Chapter 7
A House Divided: The National Park Service
and Environmental Leadership (continued)
National Park Service Culture and
Recreational Tourism
In contrast to its record in natural resource management, the Park
Service truly can claim leadership in the field of recreational
tourismthe development and management of parks for public use,
enjoyment, and education. Indeed, the Northern Pacific Railroad's
backing of the 1872 Yellowstone legislation had provided an important
clue to the destiny of the national parks. The ensuing development of
the parks for tourismwell under way by the early twentieth
centurywas affirmed in 1916 by the Organic Act's mandate to ensure
public enjoyment of the parks. From 1916 on, the Service's
"administrative interpretation" of the act has perpetuated the emphasis
on accommodating tourism. Development and construction flourished
especially during the Mather era, the New Deal, Mission 66, and the
Bicentennial program of the 1970s. Backed by Secretary of the Interior
Watt, the Park Restoration and Improvement Program of the early 1980s
funded mainly the upgrading of existing park facilities, rather than new
development. Other visitor-related programs, such as interpretation and
law enforcement, also grew over the decades. [29]
Furthermore, through its own persistent lobbying and that of various
national and local allies, the Service secured expansion of the national
park system from a handful of parks and monuments in 1916 to
approximately 370 units by the mid-1990s, including historical,
archeological, recreational, and a variety of other types of parks. In
favorable times, and under leaders like Mather, Albright, Cammerer,
Wirth, and Hartzog, the system expanded rapidlya result of both
genuine altruism and bureaucratic aggrandizement (tempered by active
resistance to many proposals for parks that the Service deemed unworthy
of inclusion in a national system). Beginning with the first state parks
conference in 1921, the Service extended its influence to nonfederal
lands, promoting the growth and development of state park systems, with
notable success during the New Deal era. The Park Service's growing
involvement in recreational demonstration areas, national parkways, and
national recreation areas in the 1930s helped place it unquestionably at
the forefront in the setting aside of recreational open space for
millions of Americansan accomplishment about which the Service has
repeatedly and justifiably expressed pride.
The loss in 1962 of Director Wirth's state and local recreational
programs to the Bureau of Outdoor Recreation was reversed in 1981, when
Secretary Watt returned those programs to the Park Service, citing the
need for more efficient government. Significantly expanded in scope
since 1962 (although with sharply decreased funding beginning under
Watt), the programs have bolstered the Service's authority and status in
the recreation field and have become part of its overall "partnership"
effort. Involving cooperation with national, state, and local entities
in parks and recreation endeavors, the partnership programs are by
congressional intent focused more on public use than on wildland
preservation, thus reinforcing the Service's interest in recreational
tourism. [30]
The long-dominant emphasis on accommodating public use in parks had
a profound impact on the National Park Service, leading to the
entrenchment of specific values and perceptions. With tourism and the
economics of tourism being fundamental to the parks' very existence, the
utilitarian, businesslike proclivities of park management (spawned in
Yellowstone and other early parks) thrived as the system grew. Striving
for ever more parks and better accommodations, the Service measured its
success by indicators such as annual visitor counts; the increasing
scope of its programs and size of the park system; and the number of new
campgrounds, visitor centers, and related developments. Recreational
tourism was, moreover, the chief impetus behind the diversification of
the Park Service's mission. Always cherishing its identification with
the large natural areas of the system, the Service nevertheless used the
recreational aspects of its mandate to justify its tremendous expansion
into reservoir, urban area, and parkway management, as well as
assistance for state and local recreational programs.
The ever-demanding construction and development programs relating to
public use of the parks ensured the ascendancy of those professions
overseeing such work and greatly influenced Park Service funding and
staffing priorities. From Mather's selection of engineers to fill
superintendencies to the present day, the developmental professions have
consistently maintained prominence within the Service's highest ranks,
whether in Washington, in other central offices, or in the parks. Of
fourteen directors, only two have been landscape architectsConrad
Wirth and William Penn Mottand one an engineerGary
Everhardt. (Even though the Service is best known worldwide for its
large natural parks, no one with a professional background in natural
science has ever been chosen director.) Dozens from the construction and
development professions have served in other key organizational
positions: as superintendents, regional directors, and associate
regional directors; and as deputy, associate, and assistant directors in
Washington. Logically, they have also headed such influential offices as
the eastern and western design and construction centers and their
successor, the Denver Service Centerwhich has been responsible for
far more of the parks' design and construction work than any other
office. As of the end of 1992, the service center alone had a work force
of 773, out of a total Park Service force of about 22,700. Service
center personnel included 123 landscape architects, 81 architects, 73
civil engineers, 51 general engineers, 11 electrical engineers, 19
mechanical engineers, 8 environmental engineers, 2 safety engineers, 22
engineering and architectural student trainees, 47 engineering and
architectural drafting technicians, and 11 construction representatives.
At the same time, 41 positions were devoted in one way or another to
natural resources. [31]
In analyzing what it viewed as an "abysmal lack of response" to
repeated calls for research-based management, the 1992 National Academy
Report on science in the parks stated that the problem was "rooted in
the culture" of the National Park Service, but made no effort to
identify the cultural characteristics. The Vail Agenda, on the other
hand, did attempt to define the Service's culture. Managers who could be
"creative and embrace responsibility, not avoid accountability and play
it safe" exemplified the culture. The Agenda further identified such
positive attributes as independence, initiative, imagination, and
commitmentaltogether a definition so conventional that it provided
no clues to the substantive values, perceptions, and attitudes of the
organization and its leaders. [32]
In truth, the leadership culture of the Park Service has been
defined largely by the demands of recreational tourism management and
the desire for the public to enjoy the scenic parks. Since the
establishment of Yellowstone and other nineteenth-century parks,
managers have had to deal not only with planning, development,
construction, and maintenance of park facilities, but also with ever
more demanding political, legal, and economic matters such as concession
operations, law enforcement, visitor protection, and the influence of
national, state, and local tourism interests. Such imperatives have
driven park management. Especially since the 1960s, deeper
involvement in urban parks, greater drug and crime problems, more
development on lands adjacent to parks, and the escalating political
strength of concessionaires and other commercial interests have added to
the pressure on management. [33]
From this evolving set of circumstances, certain shared basic
assumptions began to emerge even before the Park Service was created,
gained strength under Mather and his successors, and enduredsome
to the present. Close consideration of eight decades of National Park
Service history reveals that these assumptions have long reflected the
perceptions and attitudes of the Service's leadership culture: with
public enjoyment of the parks being the overriding concern, park
management and decisionmaking could be conducted with little or no
scientific information. Appearance of the parks mattered most. Even when
dealing with vast natural areas, resource management did not seem to
require highly trained biological specialiststhe unscientifically
trained eye could judge park conditions adequately. What is more,
scientific findings could restrict managerial discretion, and park
managers needed independence of action. Each park was a superintendent's
realm, to be subjected to minimal interference, primarily that sought by
the superintendent, perhaps through the regional director. Similarly,
the Service was the recognized, right-thinking authority on national
park managementit could provide the kind of "environmental
leadership" necessary to run the parks properly with little or no
involvement from outside groups. In this regard, environmental activism
was often unwelcome; and legislation such as the Wilderness Act or the
National Environmental Policy Act should not interfere unduly with
traditional management and operations of the Service. Moreover, natural
qualities for top leadership in the Service were to be found mainly
within the ranger and superintendent ranks and the developmental
professions. [343]
Overall, then, the dominant Park Service culture developed a
strongly utilitarian and pragmatic managerial bent. It adopted a
management style that emphasized expediency and quick solutions,
resisted information gathering through long-term research, and disliked
interference from inside or outside the Service.
Primarily concerned with varied aspects of recreational tourism, the
Park Service's leadership culture has been extremely reluctant to
abandon traditional assumptions. It has long proved its persistence and
adaptability in the face of repeated criticism. Much of that criticism
has come from inside the Service, especially from biologists from the
1930s on, very often with support from naturalists and interpreters in
the parks. Some superintendents also have been openly disapproving: the
uniformed, "green blood" groups within the Park Service family have not
always been of one accord. Numerous individual superintendents, in major
parks such as Shenandoah, Sequoia, Yellowstone, and Channel Islands,
have been recognized in recent years for their contributions to various
aspects of natural resource management. [35] Nevertheless, such advances have largely
depended on the chance of a particular superintendent's attitude and
willingness to strive for ecologically informed management, rather than
on any pervasive environmental perspective within the Park Service.
Overall, the Service's rank and file has been more ecologically aware
than its leaders.
Through research and careful planning, ecological preservation and
recreational tourism do not have to be mutually exclusive. But in the
ebb and flow of national park history, loyalty to traditional
assumptions has prevented the Service from establishing unquestioned
credentials as a leader in scientifically based land management. [36]
Yet, it must be noted that the emphasis on recreational tourism in
the national parks has always had a statutory basis. Tourism and public
use have had explicit congressional sanction since the legislation
establishing Yellowstone and other early parks authorized accommodations
and roads and trails to facilitate public enjoyment. This authority was
strongly reaffirmed in the National Park Service Act of 1916, with its
emphasis on public use. Not only did Congress not challenge the Park
Service's interpretation of the act during the ensuing decades, but it
also encouraged development and useat times aggressively. The
Service's remarkable success in building the national park system,
developing the parks, and expanding into many new tourism-related
program areas continually depended on congressional sanction and
appropriation of funds. Furthermore, such congressional support surely
reflected widespread public support. Public enthusiasm for the parks has
been evident from the steady increase in the annual number of visits to
the parks (reaching, by one estimate, 281 million per year in
1990more than the national population) and, in recent times, the
repeated designation of the Park Service as among the most popular and
respected federal bureaus. [37]
Overall, then, national park management with its emphasis on tourism
and use has largely reflected the values and assumptions of the
Service's utilitarian-minded leadership culture. The culture has been
grounded in legislative mandates. And the legislation has derived from
public values and perceptions, principally the appreciation and
enjoyment of the parks' scenic beauty and recreational
opportunities.
In significant contrast to management for public use and enjoyment,
science as a means of informing natural resource management in the
national parks has never gained specific statutory authority. This fact
has been acknowledged again and again in the reports on park science.
For instance, the National Parks and Conservation Association's 1989
report recognized the lack of a scientific mandate, as did the National
Academy's 1992 report and the Vail Agenda, which stated plainly that the
Park Service "does not have any specific statutory language directing it
to engage in science as part of its assigned mission." [38]
Indeed, even though the Organic Act of 1916 called for the parks to
be left "unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations," it did not
mandate science as a means of meeting that goal. Seeking to preserve the
parks' majestic landscapes by preventing excessive commercialism, the
founders had lobbied for legislation to place protection and development
of the scenic areas under federal control. Scientific research was not
at all prohibited by the act; certainly by implication it could be read
into the act's principal mandate. But that was not enough to convince
Mather and Albright, two founders who became directors and saw little
need for scientific expertise to manage parks created for scenic
preservation and public enjoyment. These giants of Park Service history
deeply infused their values and assumptions into the Service. Their
developmentoriented Lane Letter of 1918 was fundamental dogma for
decades, and deemed official policy as late as the 1970s. The emergence
in the 1930s of an ecological and scientific perspective and its revival
in the 1960s threatened to make park management more costly, difficult,
and timeconsuming, thus bringing about a struggle within the Service
between the more ecologically oriented and the more traditional
factions. As heirs to the vision of Mather and Albright, the Service's
top leadership by and large has shared the founders' apathy toward
scientific resource management. Their views have prevailed; and to
public expressions of ecological concern, rhetoric has been used many
times to mask the deficiencies of the Service's response.
Focusing on recreational tourism, the Service neglected to push
science to the forefront and make it a nonnegotiable element of park
management. In an age of ecological science, the acknowledged lack of a
congressionally imposed scientific mandate for national park management
clearly means that ecological preservation still is not a primary
concern of Congress. Without such a mandate, the Service has not seized
the initiative to build sufficient science programs on its own. And the
recognition that only through scientific resource management can
ecological preservation in the parks be adequately addressed negates
rhetorical claims that preservation has been the Service's primary
goal.
In response to the National Academy's 1992 analysis of science in the
parks, a high-level committee headed by scientist Paul G. Risser (who
had chaired the 1992 report) and consisting of superintendents, a
regional director, and other authorities inside and outside the Service,
issued a report declaring that without a legislative mandate, there can
be no assurance that the Park Service will make a "genuinely lasting
commitment to science-based management." Noting that an "adequate
science and technology program and organization" had never been
established, the report added that the Service "had simply never done
so, in spite of repeated authoritative urging. There is no assurance
that it will do so now, on a longterm sustained basis, without statutory
direction." [39] Indeed, the history of the
National Park Service is the history of a bureau without a scientific
mandate and unwilling to act decisively in support of science unless
specifically directed to by Congressthe Service would have to be
told to "make a genuinely lasting commitment." Such reluctance makes it
appear that the lack of a mandate has served, in effect, as an excuse
for not being resolute in scientific matters.
Despite long-standing recognition of its deficient science programs,
the Park Service has remained highly popular with the public. In a 1991
study entitled A Race Against Time, the National Parks and
Conservation Association cited polls by the Roper Organization, which
indicated that the Park Service "continues to enjoy the highest public
approval rating of all government agencies." Nonetheless, the
association concluded by castigating the public for "ignorance and
complacency" and for "acting like recreational tourists at a theme
park," oblivious to the responsibility to ensure preservation of the
parks. [40] Although such environmental
organizations may wish that it were not so, national park management, in
refusing to come to grips fully with science and ecological concerns,
tends to reflect the attitudes of a public that values the parks mainly
for their scenery and for the enjoyment and recreation they provide.
For many, spectacular scenery may create an impression of biological
health and provide such satisfaction that little consideration is given
to the parks as segments of great ecological complexes under stress.
Living almost entirely in extensively manipulated and altered
landscapes, the public may take for granted that unimpaired natural
conditions exist, especially in the larger parks. To the untrained eye,
unoccupied lands can mean unimpaired lands, even where
scientists might quickly recognize that human activity has caused
substantial biological change. The loss of ecological integrity may have
little or no effect on the aesthetics or the general appearance of an
area. Even when ecological degradation is pointed out to park visitors,
the new conditions may be thought of as merely "another change in the
scenery."
Even though it admits to a deficiency in scientific management, the
Park Serviceas host to the millions of tourists who come to the
parks to enjoy nature and majestic sceneryhas sought to inspire
the public to a deeper understanding and appreciation of the
complexities of natural history. In so doing, the Service has helped
build an environmental ethic, fostering greater knowledge and concern
about ecological issues nationwide. This influence has been evolving
since campfire talks, nature walks, and museum displays spread
throughout the park system in the 1920s and 1930s. The effort expanded
over the years to include a huge and varied array of museum and visitor
center exhibits, interpretive talks, guided hikes, and trailside
exhibits, augmented by brochures, films, books, and other means of
enlightening the public. Begun in the 1960s, Director Hartzog's
environmental education programs reached out to thousands of
schoolchildren, many of them underprivileged and without access to parks
outside urban areas. Through its involvement with state and local parks
and the more recent partnership programs, the Service has effectively
advanced nature appreciation and understanding. Furthermore, the Service
has extended its influence worldwide through assistance to foreign
countries in the development, interpretation, and operation of parks.
[41] Thus, despite limitations in
ecological management, the national parks, the National Park Service,
and the uniformed ranger have become symbols of a conservation and
environmental ethic.
Such constructive efforts have no doubt moved the public toward a
greater comprehension of environmental matters. For many in the Park
Service, scenic preservation and accommodation of tourists remained the
focus of their careers, even after science and ecology gained favor
during the environmental movement. Yet, in an important way, their work
served broad environmental purposes. For many visitors drawn to the
national parks partly by their very accessibility and convenience,
contemplation of the natural beauty displayed and interpreted in the
parks surely has nurtured a deeper realization of the complexities of
natureaesthetic appreciation thus serving as a threshold to
ecological awareness. It may be that few people develop a concern for
ecology without having first acquired a heightened sense of the beauty
in nature, as is fostered in the national parks.
A 1993 merger of biological research functions within the Department
of the Interior and a sweeping reorganization of the National Park
Service in 1995 brought substantial changes for the Service. On October
1, 1993, Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt officially established
the National Biological Survey (later "Service"), including scientists
and support staff drawn primarily from the department's three public
land-managing bureaus the National Park Service, the U.S. Fish and
Wildlife Service, and the Bureau of Land Management. (As a Department of
Agriculture bureau, the Forest Service was not involved.) The Park
Service's contribution to the new bureau was the equivalent of 168
full-time positions (scientists and support personnel) and approximately
$20 million in base funds. Created by administrative order and thus
without congressional sanction, the bureau was to foster an ecosystem
management approach through coordinating biological and ecological
research to address land management issues on a national, regional, and
local scale. It was to be a nonadvocacy research bureau, with no
responsibilities for actual land management or regulation. [42]
Although different in purpose and scope from Secretary Harold Ickes'
1940 administrative transfer of the Park Service's wildlife biologists
to the Bureau of Biological Survey, the 1993 merger had a similar
effect, in that it suddenly withdrew from the Park Service virtually all
of its biological research capability. Science had at last achieved
independencebut it was through removal, rather than by remaining
in the Service and gaining independence from "operational management,"
as advocated beginning in the 1960s and realized to some extent until
Director Hartzog suddenly placed the biologists under the regional
directors in 1971. However, in the political climate of the mid-1990s
the National Biological Service was weakened by funding and staffing
cutbacks, which helped bring about its merger with its geological
counterpart, the U.S. Geological Survey. The uncertain, changing
situation increased the doubts that already existed within the Park
Service about the future of its biological research.
Soon after the Service lost its research biologists, it undertook a
major reorganization in response to the goals of the administration of
President Bill Clinton to reduce the size of the federal bureaucracy and
improve efficiency. The 1995 reorganization substantially modified the
hierarchical system in place since 1937, in which parks reported to
regional offices, which in turn reported to Washington. In the new
arrangement the parks gained much greater autonomy: the regional offices
were abolished and replaced by smaller central offices with less
capability to oversee park operations; and the Washington office was
sharply reduced, diminishing its oversight capabilities as well. [43]
Remaining in the Park Service after creation of the Biological
Service was a sizable force of well-trained natural resource managers,
their support staff, and many others of like persuasion. Still, the loss
of the research biologists surely diminished the ecological and
scientific perspective within national park management. Furthermore, the
emancipation of the parks from the leadership and oversight of
well-staffed central offices reduced the park superintendents'
accountability to higher authority and to national standards of park
management. Acknowledging the strong traditions of the Park Service, the
Vail Agenda had noted that the Service would "not be transformed quickly
or easily." [44] Indeed, although the
organizational structure was quickly changed, the reorganization left
the central cultural assumptions of the Service fully intact, and has
even created a situation where, with less oversight and fewer
constraints, traditional attitudes may be reinforced and flourish.
The organization's most deeply imbedded assumptions are far more
difficult and slower to change than the organizational structure. Given
the strength and persistence of ancestral attitudes within the Service,
its core values are likely to outlast any one director, even one who is
stubbornly determined to change them. And succeeding directors may well
rescind prior modifications and reaffirm old attitudes. Even a whole
generation of leaders may not succeed in changing the core values of the
Park Service to establish what the Vail Agenda termed a "strong
ecosystem management culture." [45] Such
changes are not impossiblebut they are improbable.
Beginning with the construction of Yellowstone's roads and lodges,
the history of development and use of the parks for tourism extends for
more than a century and reflects an entrenched perception of the purpose
of national parks. Backed by the Organic Act's mandate for public use
and enjoyment, early attitudes and actions of the Service created a
powerful, virtually irresistible trend in national park management. But
in time, the dignity and nobility of the parks, once seen largely in
terms of majestic landscapes, came also to be understood in more precise
scientific and ecological termsa new and challenging perception
arose within the Service, never to be fully integrated into park
operations. In both philosophy and management, the National Park Service
remains a house divided pressured from within and without to
become a more scientifically informed and ecologically aware manager of
public lands, yet remaining profoundly loyal to its traditions.
In this era of heightened environmental concern, it is essential that
scientific knowledge form the foundation for any meaningful effort to
preserve ecological resources. If the National Park Service is to fully
shoulder this complex, challenging responsibility at last, it must
conduct scientifically informed management that insists on ecological
preservation as the highest of many worthy priorities. This priority
must spring not merely from the concerns of specific individuals or
groups within the Service, but from an institutionalized ethic that is
reflected in full-faith support of all environmental laws, in
appropriate natural resource policies and practices, in budget and
staffing allocations, and in the organizational structures of parks and
central offices. Whenand only whenthe National Park Service
thoroughly attunes its own land management and organizational attitudes
to ecological principles can it lay serious claim to leadership in the
preservation of the natural environment.
|