It sounds like a paradox, but
a congressional designation of wilderness can actually harm what is
wild. I believe that will come true if Idaho Republican Rep. Mike
Simpson’s bill, the Central Idaho Economic Development and
Recreation Act, becomes law.
Whether we like it or not,
once that law is passed, the law of unintended consequences will
kick in. A White Cloud-Boulder Mountains Wilderness brings with it
giveaways of federal land to municipal and county governments and
the granting of improved routes for ORVs, motorcycles and mountain
bikes. While the Simpson bill is touted as a model of collaboration
for landuse in the West, its precedent is the delivery of federal
pork to political interest groups, a process that hasn’t
always benefited either the ethics or aims of the recipients.
For example, the White Clouds and the Boulder ranges are
currently wild due to rugged terrain, surrounding roadless zones
and distance from large population centers. But Simpson’s
bill will create common areas for specific segregated groups that
will draw in so many people the result is sure to be overuse. The
status quo is therefore more protective of wilderness than a
congressional imprimatur.
In many parts of the West,
wilderness has created sacrifice areas out of bordering land, as
trophy homes, real estate offices, and baby horse ranches –the
stigmata of the New West — appear near the trailheads. We
have all seen people come West for the solitude and romance and
wildness of the region, and then see these same people ruin what
they came for by re-creating the cultural and physical landscape
they’ve escaped. Wilderness designation is part of an urban
dream: It bureaucratizes land and creates an entity that is tied to
legal and commercial interests. It is also heavily policed, even as
it looks natural and free.
Another way to put the
cultural change is to say that cowboys become houseboys.
The impoverished municipalities that think to gain from the
bill’s gift of federal land will also see unintended
consequences in the kind of people attracted to that gift. For
example, the plan in Stanley, Idaho, is to sell the newly acquired
land for luxury homesites. The stronger tax base these homes bring
is supposed to bring solvency to local governments and schools. I
have two words for Rep. Simpson: Teapot Dome. If the congressman
wants to forever tie his name to questionable privatization of
federal assets, he should keep this aspect of his bill intact. The
sudden conversion of federal land into luxury real estate for
private gain is liable to infuriate taxpayers elsewhere.
Hundreds of little starve-acre communities are scattered across the
American West, and most of them are conservative and Republican.
Conservative or not, they’re going to want their share. And
they’re not going to be happy with chunks of Nevada salt
flats; they’re going to want federal land they can sell for
huge sums.
Watching the scramble will not be for the
squeamish. The potential for corruption is high. Someone will have
to decide what unspoiled places to give away — along with lot
boundaries and asking prices — and who gets to buy in.
Neighbors who bought property thinking that their views and privacy
were protected by bordering national forest will hire lawyers. The
rich will want to make sure that no affordable housing depresses
their property values.
One group of people sure to be
watching the whole process of federal land transfer is the
West’s Native Americans. Up to now, the land that the tribes
lost in treaty violations hasn’t been monetized. But the
Simpson bill will comodify the resource base in the language of
economics, and then the tribes will have a dollar figure to give to
their lawyers when the courts begin to scrutinize 19th century
treaties. That’s when the true expense of this bad bill will
become apparent.
There are other unintended consequences,
but these should be enough to question the wisdom of going ahead
with the act. Right now, Challis and nearby towns are benefiting
because of a spike in molybdenum prices, so the necessity for an
economic development act for them isn’t as dire as it once
was. The mines commodify the resource base, too, though they
don’t commodify so much of it.
If there’s a
worldwide depression and the moly mine closes again, I hope Rep.
Simpson forgets the peculiar bundle of compromises that has become
his bill and just gives every man, woman, and child in central
Idaho a check for a hundred thousand dollars. Financially,
culturally and spiritually, it will be cheaper.
John Rember is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a
service of High Country News (hcn.org). A
wilderness ranger in Idaho’s Sawtooth Wilderness for seven
years, he now lives and writes in Idaho’s Sawtooth
Valley.
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