.‘. swam T E IN USE FORE sr MANAGE EN PACUC , NcmeEs a r-‘ph “'0 : .isffo’rr' the" D I eigr *Thés ,, . . . . r. K 'NERSITY was man vin «Hag MICHIGAN. .53 A e1 ,Y M 315515 This is to certify that the thesis entitled WILDERNESS LAND ALLOCATION IN A MULTIPLE USE FOREST MANAGEMENT FRAMEWORK IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST presented by Jay Melvin Hughes has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for Ph. D. degree in Forestry I/i, ' /’7 / ’ fl /’ - ' l/l .1 d ' I ,7é’éf ///' Nazi/”Lt ’17-- Major'J/péotessor Date 11/13/64 0-169 .- LIBRARY Michigan State University ABSTRACT WILDERNESS LAND ALLOCATION IN A MULTIPLE USE FOREST MANAGEMENT FRAMEWORK IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST by Jay Me1vin Hughes Since the early 1920's, public forest land managers in the United States (particularly those responsible for the administration of the National Forests) have been wrestling with a particularly intractable problem of land use decision making. This problem is contained in the question: Why and how should particular tracts of land be allocated to a particular kind of recreation use category called "wilderness?" Even though no "formula" answer has yet been found to this question, many allocation decisions have been made resulting in a wilderness system on the National Forests of the United States of over 14.5 million acres. Many of these decisions have aroused nationwide controversies. More decisions are yet to be made. Even if there were no more decisions of this kind to make, a close examination of the question yields results generally useful to public forest land managers who must choose among competing uses for particular tracts of public land. Such choices are becoming more frequent and more difficult. use definitional problem for the purposes of this study was institutionalized wilderness. solved by developing the concept of In effect, this means tflnat "wilderness" is defined by what -1- Jay Melvin Hughes society has called "wilderness" in terms of definitely bounded, named, managed, and legally identifiable tracts of public land. The study was further confined generally to observations on selected wilderness allocation cases on the National Forests of the Pacific Northwest region (Oregon and Washington). Wilderness literature, historical documentation of individual cases in Forest Service files, and selected kinds of decision making concepts-~particularly those found in economics--provided the "data" for this analysis. This historical, inductive-deductive study proceeded in three general stages: (1) an examination of wilderness and land use ideologies and concepts; (2) a detailed examination and appraisal of selected Forest Service classification cases in the Pacific Northwest region; and (3) particular considera- tion of economics analysis as a tool for measuring relevant kinds of facts and making choices among alternatives. The interdisciplinary nature of the topic of "wilderness" was clearly revealed by the first stage overview of ideologies. The second stage appraisal of particular cases in the Northwest served to reveal the general framework of allocating land to wilderne3s on the National Forests, the kinds of facts apparently called for, the nature of the choice process, and some apparent areas Where decision making guides could be more intensively employed. In this regard, the need for added explicitness and The consideration of economics con- objectivity was inferred. cepts and methodologies lprovided at least a qualitative basis -2- Jay Melvin Hughes for discussing the consequences of the allocation decision. It was argued that use of the economics methodologies at least made some of the bases for decisions explicit. The conclusions and recommendations of the study lean heavily upon a particular welfare concept which holds that viable decision making agencies such as the Forest Service represent public preferences and do in fact incorporate them in their decision making processes. The role of these agents and agencies is, however, to not only make the decisions, but to also make the bases of these decisions explicit and as objective as possible. Economics analysis is recommended as one means of improving this explicitness and objectivity. -3- WILDERNESS LAND ALLOCATION IN A MULTIPLE USE FOREST MANAGEMENT FRAMEWORK IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST by Jay Melvin Hughes A THESIS Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of Forestry 1964 PREFACE The tradition of providing the reader with a point of view of the tome which follows the "Preface" and acknowledgments of those who have contributed to its structure and content will remain unbroken here. This examination of what is called herein "institutionalized wilderness" and how we allocate land to this land use category proceeds generally in an ambling, inductive way through three stages: (1) a survey of wilderness and related ideologies; (2) observations of key allocation cases in the Pacific Northwest region; and (3) an appraisal of selected economics concepts and methodologies as decision making tools for allocating land to wilderness status. This was undertaken in response to the ongoing questions which face land managers--and particularly public forest land managers--in making decisions to allocate particular tracts of land to alternative uses. While a large number of related topics are covered in this study, it is not a definitive work on any one topic. Institu- tionalized wilderness can be entered from a multitude of direc- tions and thus presents a multitude of opportunities for definitiveness. Nevertheless, it is hoped that this document will provide the general reader, as well as the specialist, with some useful concepts and clues for further exploration and processing. It is particularly hoped that subsequent students of this and related problems will be impressed with the need to push forward in the development of: (1) methods to measure ii facts in an explicit and relevant fashion and (2) methods for using these facts in an objective and explicit way in making choices among alternative land uses. This study was undertaken more specifically as one of several studies conceived to implement a U.S. Forest Service research project dealing with alternative forest land uses in the Pacific Northwest. Even though this study is thus a product of a particular Federal agency related to a particular kind of administrative problem faced by that agency, the freedom of the author to pursue ideas and data of his own choosing was never restrained. This point is made here forcefully in view of frequent criticism that "captive" research organizations cannot do an objective job on problems brightly colored with controversy and strong policy overtones. Wilderness land allocation by the U.S. Forest Service is certainly such a topic. Lack of objectiv- ity in the present study must be attributed to the author's own biases and lack of perceptiveness rather than to agency pressures to conform. Many individuals contributed ideas and motivations for this study at critical points. I feel particularly indebted to: George W. Williams, in charge of "Special Studies" in the Region 6 Division of Recreation; J. Michael McCloskey, Northwest Conservation Representative for the Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs; Wiley D. Wenger, Jr., and William R. Burch, Jr., intrepid recreation researchers at the Pacific Northwest Forest and Range Experiment Station; Thomas C. Adams, my office neighbor, loyal — iii wdlderness enthusiast and backpacker; Carl A. Newport, "boss" and counsellor who allowed me to take bit in teeth; and Professor Lee M. James at Michigan State University who prodded, goaded , and otherwise encouraged me in the development of this study zil1d thesis. Many others were consulted and contributed their bit to whatever quality this thesis may contain. These include: Howard E. Bell, Peter E. Black, Hugh C. Davis, James P. Gilligan, Robert C. Lucas, Lawrence C. Merriam, Jr., Archie U. Mills, David Milstein, Willis Ragland, J. Herbert Stone, Robert Twiss, and John A. Zivnuska. It is also customary to acknowledge those who provided the amenities which made the task at hand more palatable. Gratitude is therefore expressed to all of my colleagues at the Pacific Northwest Forest and Range Experiment Station, Division of Forest Economics and Marketing Research, who suffered while I expounded. Without question, however, the most patient sufferers were my wife and two daughters who tolerated the usual and long-persisting nuisances which characterize the relationships existing between family and Ph. D. thesis writers. Finally, a large measure of gratitude is expressed here to Betty Bell who was burdened with the awesome task of typing this manuscript in the face of an impossible deadline. The deadline was met, and the quality of product speaks for itself. Fay Page also shares in this gratitude for having typed the L list of "Literature Cited." iv PREFACE. TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES . LIST OF FIGURES. CHAPTER I II INTRODUCTION. The Many Problems of Wilderness . Toward a Definition . The Intent of This Study. The "Decision Making Model" Approach. Rationality . Philosophical Points of View. Uncertainty, Probability, and Utility . Level of Knowledge. . . . . . . . . . . Objectivity and Explicitness. Wilderness as a Forest Service Problem in the Pacific Northwest. . . PART I IDEOLOGICAL AND LAND USE BACKGROUNDS HISTORICAL PROLOGUE AND PERSPECTIVES. Man, Nature, and Wilderness . . . . . . Man Against Nature. . . . . . . . . . . . Man With Nature . . . The Latter Day Symbolism of Wilderness. Leisure, Recreation and Wilderness. Leisure Definitions . . . . . . . xiii 12 14 l6 19 21 29 36 38 42 42 43 44 49 55 56 Play Concepts in Camping. Moral and Ethical Points of View About Leisure . . . . . . . Time Budget Measures. Quantifying Wilderness Recreation . Forestry, the Forest Service and Multiple Use. Fernow-Pinchot Forestry . Conservation and All That . Recreation as an Evolving Purpose of the Forest Reserves. . Multiple Use Forestry . Public Law 86-517: The Multiple Use—— Sustained Yield Act of 1960 . . Multiple Use Planning . Prewilderness National Forest Land Allocations to Recreation . The Motivation for Wilderness Dominant Personality Hypothesis Interagency Rivalry Hypothesis. Fortuitous Circumstance Hypothesis. Recurring Issues. Anthr0pocentricity. Public Access to Decision Making. Minority Rights Vicarious Use . vi National Forests and Their Administration . 62 66 71 76 81. 87 92 105 114 119 122 132 133 136 137 139 140 141 142 143 III Economic vs. Noneconomic Values and the Negligibility Argument. Intrarecreation Conflict. Protection by Legislation vs. Regulation. _ Multiple Use vs. Single Use . Freedom of Choice . Conservation Ethics Sanctuary, Sanity, and Health . Science and the Control—Plot Notion . Local vs. National Interests. Wilderness Use Capacity . Size, Location, and Configuration of Area . Summary . THE LAND ALLOCATION FRAMEWORK . Land, Man and Aspirations Land as a Resource. User Aspirations. User Perception . The "Highest and Best" Use Concept. Optimum Economic Use. Optimizing in Multiple Use Management . Public vs. Private Objectives The Implications of the Concept of Property . The "Bundle of Rights" Concept. Tenure and the National Forests 143 145 146 146 147 148 149 15C) 151 153 155 157 160 161 161 163 164 169 170 171 175 178 178 180 Land Use Planning and Studies in the United States. Some Overall Land Use Planning Concepts Disposal of the Public Domain . Major Planning and Study Efforts. Two Critiques Land Use Planning and Studies in the Northwest. . . . Forest Land Use Planning in the United States Pre-Twentieth Century Heritage. The First Conference of Governors The Capper Report . The Copeland Report Land Planning Committee . The Joint Congressional Committee on Forestry . The Reappraisal of 1945 . . . . . . . . . . The President's Water Resources Policy Commission . The President's Materials Policy Commission The Timber Resources Review . Timber Trends U.S.—-1962. Outdoor Recreation Land Use Planning. Planning and Land Use Planning in Retrospect. viii 186 187 190 191 195 1953 204; 204; 206 207 209 212 215 217 217 218 219 220 220 222 PART II VIILDERNESS LAND CLASSIFICATION AND THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST EXPERIENCE OF THE FOREST SERVICE IV THE SETTING, PRECEDENTS, AND REGULATIONS . The Broad Setting . Early Wilderness Dedications on the National Forests. The Trapper's Lake Precedent. The Gila Precedent. Early Northwest Wilderness. The Boundary Waters Canoe Area. Regulation L-20: Primitive Areas Regulations U-l and U-2: Wilderness and Wild Areas Background Experience . Regulation U-l. Regulation U-2. Primitive Area Reclassification . Forest Service Manual . The Classification Record Under U-l and U-2 . The National Record . The Northwest Record. Classification of Other "Near Natural" Areas. Informal or De Facto Wilderness . "Stop, Look, and Listen" Areas. Limited Areas . . . . . ix 227 227 232 2312 234% 2353 239 241 249 249 252 254 254 258 258 258 261 263 266 267 271 Unclassified Back Country and Unusual Interest Areas. CLASSIFICATION PROCEDURES AND PUBLIC ACCESS TO THE DECISION . The Formal Framework for Classification Studies . . . . Selection of the General Area Boundary Selection. Gathering the Facts The Report. The Approval Process. Hearings. Classification. Public Access to the Classification Decision. Informal Notification . The Hearings. Alternative Levels of Public Access and Communication. Public Recourse from Decisions. SELECTED NORTHWEST CASES. Eagle Cap and the Minam: Belated Controversy Three Sisters: Science vs. Logging . Glacier Peak: Capstone of the Controversy. Mount Hood: Appeal to Esthetics. Goat Rocks: To Ski or Not To Ski . Kalmiopsis: Rare Flowers and Scarce Metals waldo Lake: Ebb Tide 282 282 284 288 2913 2955 2965 299 301 301 304 305 306 310 312 313 324 349 372 379 389 400 CHAPTER. VII A SUMMING UP OF THE CLASSIFICATION EXPERIENCE AND THE APPARENT MODEL. Selection of Area Locating Boundary Alternatives. Gathering the Facts Making the Choice . How Much More Wilderness in the Northwest?. PART III ECONOMICS AND WILDERNESS VIII THE CONTRIBUTION OF ECONOMICS TO THE WILDERNESS ALLOCATION DECISION. Economics and the Logic of Choice . Economics and Economic Objectives Economic Logic in Choice. Significant Wilderness Allocation Characteristics Welfare and Natural Resources Economics The Search for "Welfare". Some Welfare Criteria . Kinds of Resources and Formal Allocation Models. Residual Comment. Outdoor Recreation Valuation Techniques Pitfalls and Detours. . . . . . Surveys of Methodologies. Location or Spatial Differentiation Analysis. Precedental valuation . xi 410 410 415 418 422 423 428 429 430 431 435 436 438 442 453 464 465 466 467 472 478 CHAIflflEIL Market Value Analysis. User Expenditures. Cost Analysis. National Income and Product Accounting . Economic Base-Type Analysis. Economics Choice Mechanisms. Benefit-Cost Analysis. Budgeting. Least-Opportunity—Cost Ranking . Joint Production Theory. A Simple Two-Valued Choice System. Economic Consequences of Wilderness Classification in the Northwest. Relevant Land Use Alternatives Timber-Based Impacts of Wilderness Classification. Timber Values and Employment . Returns from Wilderness-Associated Activities . . . . . Residual Commentary. . . . ... . . . . . IX REAPPRAISAL AND CONCLUSIONS. The Institutional Setting. . . . Objectives and Criteria. . . . . . . Wilderness Values. . . . . . . . . . . The Choice Process Recommendations. LITERATURE CITED. 484 486 490 498 499 506 510 512 522 526 526 530 534 549 552 555 555 558 562 564 566 568 TABLE 10 11 12 13 LIST OF TABLES Classified wilderness-type acreage on the National Forests of the Pacific Northwest Region as of January 1, 1964. National time budget estimates and time division of leisure, 1900, 1950, and 2000 . Employment index and average annual working hours for the United States, selected years, and projections to 1980. National Forest recreation use, U.S., 1963. Primary purpose of recreation visits to the National Forests, U.S., 1963. Tabular record of decision making for homeowner in flood plain adjusting to flood hazard . . . . . . Forest Wilderness Areas established and potential in the Northwest according to Robert Marshall's estimates for the Copeland Report . Primitive Area establishment, Region 6. Wilderness and Wild Area reclassifications in the Pacific Northwest Region, 1940-63. Classification of other "near natural" area designations on the National Forests Hypothetical budgets for alternative choices in a wilderness allocation choice situation Estimated allocation of allowable cut estimates for wilderness timber to processing alternatives Value added estimates per unit of output in primary timber products manufacturing. xiii 39 67 70 74 75 166 213 250 262 264 508 541 542 TABIJi Page 14 Estimate of value added in primary manufacturing attributable to the 77 million board-foot allowable cut of Northwest wilderness timber. . 543 15 Estimate of direct labor requirements to process foregone allowable cut from Wilderness timber . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 550 FIGHHUE 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 LIST OF FIGURES The Pacific Northwest Region, U.S. Forest Service, 1963. Generalized ends—means relationship in a problem solving or decision making context Schematic representation of knowledge system for decision making . The geometry of decision specification and level of knowledge . . . Certainty. Inaction . Forced action. Learning . Zone of satisfaction . Classified wilderness—type areas on the National Forests of Region 6 as of January 1, 1964. . Forest Service organization line officers. Typical regional office organization chart . Typical National Forest organization chart Functional staff organization of the Regional Office of the Pacific Northwest Region of the Forest Service . Line and staff organization relationships between Region 6 Regional Office, the National Forests and their Ranger Districts in the Region. 0 Sample organization chart for Region 6 National FOrests . . . . Sample organization chart for Region 6 Ranger Districts . . . . . . . . . ~ XV 17 23 31 33 33 33 33 34 40 96 97 98 100 101 102 103 FIGURE: 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Limited Areas in Region 6 as of March 1, 1957 Indian Heaven back-country area on the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, washington Map of Eagle Cap Wilderness Area. Mirror Lake and Eagle Cap Peak from the north, Eagle Cap Wilderness Area. Aneroid Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness Area . Map of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area. Hikers on Obsidian Trail, Three Sisters Wilderness Area . North, Middle and South Sister from the west. Map of Glacier Peak Wilderness Area . Aerial view of Glacier Peak from the east . Upper Agnes Creek drainage, Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. Lone trail rider looking across a fog bank toward Glacier Peak, Glacier Peak Wilderness Area . Map of Mount Hood Wild Area . Map of Goat Rocks Wild Area . The Goat Rocks, Goat Rocks Wild Area. Denizens of the Goat Rocks Wild Area. Map of Kalmiopsis Wild Area . Chrome mine and associated road network in Kalmiopsis Wild Area. Map of Waldo Lake Recreation Area . Waldo Lake looking east from Klovedahl Bay; Gerdine Butte in background xvi 314 315 316 325 326 327 350a 350b 350C 350d 373 380 381 382 391 392 402 403 FIGURJE 38 39 4O 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 Demonstration of Pareto criterion given alternative states of affairs involving two persons. . . . c n o Demonstration of Kaldor welfare criterion. Demonstration of possible indeterminancy when two utility possibility curves intersect . Social preference map demonstrating Bergson welfare criterion. . . . . . Intertemporal distribution of nonstorable flow resources Intertemporal distribution of storable flow resources . . . Intertemporal distribution of resource services, stock resources. . Intertemporal distribution of storable flow resources under two different social preference conditions. . . . . Intertemporal allocation of stock resources. Benefit-cost relationships for various scales of development. Generalized production functions for wilderness land. . . . . . . . . Generalized production functions with nonhomogeneous units of wilderness land. . . Joint production relationships between wilderness size and number of visitors . Hypothetical two—valued display of wilderness classification consequences. . 444 446 448 450 457 458 459 461 463 502 514 515 518 524 CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION What is Wilderness? Is it a barren, treeless desert, or a tangled forest or jungle harboring venemous reptiles and savage beasts, large and small? Is it a flower-studded meadow suspended among fir~bearded mountains, brightly laced here and there with pure, dancing streams? Is it above timberline or below? Is it in the nearest city park or the center of remote- ness from Conurbia? Can there be roads in wilderness? How many people can be in a wilderness at one time and still have wilderness? What is a wilderness? The above questions have a semblance of relevance due to the traditional, and logical, concern with specifying objects which are studied. It must also be conceded, however, that some "things" are studied only as ideas in the context of other ideas and thereby defined. Pioneering research on disease-producing organisms proceeds partly by the examination and classification of symptoms and with no clear idea of the 1 object sought. In fact, the definition and identification of the organism are often sufficient reasons for the research. The history of concern for malaria provides a classic example (Alvarado and Bruce-Chwat, 1962).l/ Research on wilderness is similar. Although Wilderness has inspired a surprising number l/ Names and dates in parentheses refer to Literature Cited, pp. 568-597. 2 of studies, an overwhelming deluge of authorship, a substantial tradition of land use conflict, and the coalition and schism of numerous "outdoor" groups, it has successfully evaded capture in universal definition by its numerous hunters. It still flits gracefully on wings of rhetoric just out of full view. Some zflDstract likenesses of this rare wraith have proven arbi- trary <3r, at best, like the hunter's broth made with the shadow of a passing buck. The present study was undertaken in the light of these previous attempts to bring this game to earth. In spite of the length of this report, the study does not pretend to be a com- prehensive treatment of the subject of wilderness. Better overviews of this topic have been provided by Gilligan,2/ the Wildland Research Center at the University of California (1962), and by Nash (1963). This is also not an exhaustive treatment of a single wilderness-type area like those of Lucas (1964a and 1964b), Merriam (1963), and Thompson (1963). This study is, however, the first to deal very explicitly with wilderness on a regional basis, although this is not the main point of the study. A region (the Pacific Northwest Region of the U.S. Forest Service, encompassing most of the two States of Oregon and Washington--see figure 1) was selected because the .2] Gilligan, James P. The development of policy and administration of Forest Service Primitive and Wilderness Areas in the Western United States. 402 pp., illus. 1953. (Unpublished Ph. D. diss. on file at Univ. Mich., Ann Arbor.) ' VAucouvzn ISLAND can": .L.;t.. SKAHANIA . . «do '\.,F)\ Q~ ‘o L! k I Anew \ \ Llucm. K“ Neuporl J , _ ( Madrosmifi'tcimfiuo ° 3 a ( [Jr/‘19:} a 'pWoldporJ / 4 x' ‘- u / l' r l ,\ i '7 'Junuhn r'K'lr CHY -" _ \. , Eugene‘ Onlurlo I. Voleo ( / . v . LEGEND o n - ------- STATE LINES ‘u n I v . < -—--— COUNTY LINES D + [:1 NATIONAL FORESTS " ff 1’ ' . \ IZL/IJ o . ° “JiVousy Fem o 20 ‘0 ‘° '° '°°""" |] ‘if'ff r ‘3 i] ;. Sul- uu MN" _ i-‘ygmfmo r’ {’3' f1 - - uls L—s‘é ' ‘~ 1 ' “TH Ff oilfalgéview ' L- i . ix — . ... _. NEVADA . .. 4 particular kind of Wilderness studied is perhaps best understood in a regional context. Furthermore, a region (in the lbmited sense of this study) is a broad enough geographic base to pro- vide a background of experience useful for drawing general inferences; while, at the same time, it is small enough in scope to permit more or less incisive treatment in a relatively short space of time. These points, it is hoped, will become apparent throughout this report. The Many Problems of Wilderness A strict definition of problem, in the sense that a prob- lem is that which exists between what is and what ought to be, is not implied here. What is meant is the number of discipline- oriented paths by which the subject of wilderness may be entered. Wilderness has been attractive bait for economists, ecologists, psychologists, political scientists, psychiatrists, geographers, lawyers, sociologists, and others. An entomologist, for another, may see the virgin spruce forest of a Wilderness Area and its endemic population of Dendroctonus engelmannii (Hopk.) as a distinct threat to adjacent spruce forests which are logged and managed for wood products. The 1940 outbreak in the Flat Tops Primitive Area of the White River National Forest of Colorado Stands as mute testimony to this problem (wygant and Nelson, 1949). An esthete or an ecologist may harangue against physical disturbance of particular landscape compositions by roads or logging, thus setting up a conflict situation. A lumber manufac~ turer may smell economic disaster on the breeze of efforts to 5 "preserve" a particularly productive tract of timber. Political scientists and historians are interested in observing the develop- ment and use of strategies by opposing parties in such conflicts. Psychiatrists are interested in the therapeutic values of wilder— ness. Economists are interested in the economic consequences of setting aside Wilderness Areas and how these consequences can be employed in a general logic of choice between wilderness and nonwilderness. In short, wilderness, as poorly defined as it is in an operationally objective way, is a focal point of interest for many kinds of students. Even from a relatively restricted point of view, that of land economics for example, wilderness has many faces. Wilder— ness, as a land input into our social scheme of things, readily assumes characteristics which allow it to be studied from this point of view. Wilderness land is, we are frequently told, scarce. Furthermore, it is frequently capable of fulfilling more than one land use purpose. Hence, a problem of allocating a scarce resource among alternative or competing uses appears to arise. Land economists, who are interested in this kind of allocation problem, may be expected to attack this problem within a rather expansive "threefold framework," as one authority (Barlowe, 1958) expresses it. These three frameworks are: U) the physical and biological framework which relates mainly t0 the natural environment which provides, describes, and limits the kinds, qualities, quantities, and location of resources; (2) the economic framework within which value measurements and choice mechanisms are devised; and (3) the institutional 6 framework, which is concerned with how our valuation and choice mechanisms are influenced by our cultural environment, including custom and tradition, legal arrangements, and religion. Operat- ing within all three frameworks is a state of recognizing or per- ceiving resource use alternatives and values (Firey, 1960, Rates, 1962, Lucas, 1964a), and an ability to use the resources, or level of technology. The burgeoning body of "wilderness literature" clearly provides relevant information for each of these three frameworks of land economics. Toward a Definition One of the most sagacious comments to be published, regard- ing a point of departure for wilderness definitions, is the following (Wildland Research Center, Univ. Calif., 1962, p. 3): The unqualified term "wilderness" is, for many reasons, ambiguous. Not all the factors contributing to this ambiguity can be reconciled. Further, a variety of meanings for the term results from a blurred distinc— tion between the physical reality of wilderness as real estate and the subjective values which human beings place on the stimulus of wilderness. It is apparent that many of the problems encountered in the use of wilderness areas for recreation, as well as the issues surrounding their place in federal land allocation, could be less trouble- some if this distinction were more generally recognized. Keeping separate the ideas of wilderness land and wilderness values provides some clarity in thinking about wilderness and the land allocation problem. It also begins to suggest the need to correlate the product of wilderness land and use in meaningful Ways. This in turn, however, suggests added complexities. Suppose we can classify in a consistent way the responses of users to wilderness. How can we really use these categories, and the numbers of those who respond in each category, in the original 7 allocation decision? It seems evident that the response of users would be useful in designing wilderness management programs. However, less certainty surrounds use of such results to guide the allocation decision. Such information is only tangentially useful in this latter regard where we are trying to first deter— mine whether an area should or should not be used as wilderness. Although we need to know just what is "produced" in the way of value when an area is allocated to wilderness, the allocation record suggests we need even more to know how to compare these values with values produced by not allocating it to wilderness. Even though it inadequately reflects the relative intensities of preferences (as reflected in monetary terms in the marketplace), the political problem of allocating "free" wilderness is most readily resolved by simple majority votes of "yes" or "no." This point is stressed by Downs (1961) in another context. The political paradox of apathetic majorities and intense minorities is presented by the relatively small number of wilderness users compared with the large number of all parties who have affected interests in the land. In spite of these background problems, land has been and, presumably, will be allocated to wilderness use. A fundamental POint of understanding is that these allocations have been~-and it will be the thesis of this report that they will continue to be--made on the basis of very loose and crude definitions which Were, nevertheless, politically viable and which quickly resulted in institutionalized concepts of wilderness. Management concepts, 8 tied somewhat hypothetically to intrinsic characteristics of the allocated lands, rather than sophisticated technical characteriza- tions of land, seem to have provided more important allocation guides than definitional criteria. In other words, wilderness land seems to have been defined by and after the fact of alloca— tion. No value judgment of the "goodness" or "badness" of this state of affairs is intended here. Two definitions which are reflective of the Operational environment of wilderness identifi- cation (perception) and allocation are given below to illustrate the point. First, the "Work Plan for the National Forest Recreation Survey, a Review of the Outdoor Recreation Resources of the National Forests" (U.S. Forest Service, 1959, p. 93) defines the "wilderness experience" as follows: A wilderness experience or a wilderness type of use is one which provides isolation from the masses and mechani— zation of civilization, and respite from a complex and highly regulated life through refreshment and refuge in a natural environment such as has been instrumental in mould- ing man's physical, emotional, aesthetic, and spiritual development over the ages. It offers man an opportunity to test his judgment, skills, self-reliance, and fortitude. It creates in him a perception of expansive solitude, a sense of freedom, a spirit of adventure, excitement, a physical and mental challenge, a spiritual comfort. It puts man simultaneously in struggle (conflict) and in harmony with nature. It is submitted at this point that this description does not Permit consistent visualization of the shape, color, size, etc. of land area required to produce these things. One person may realize them from a given area and another not; or two substan- tially different areas may yield all of these to the same person. It thus appears to be an ambiguous allocation vehicle at best. 9 One of the current "wilderness bills," HR 9162, may also be used (U.S. Congress, House, 1963). This, the Dingell bill, defines a wilderness in what has become the traditional manner of wilderness bills: A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain. An area of wilderness is further defined to mean in this Act an area of undevel- oped Federal land retaining its primeval character and influence, without permanent improvements or human habitation, which is protected and managed so as to preserve its natural conditions and which: (1) generally appears to have been affected primarily by the force of nature, with the imprint of man's works substantially unnoticeable; (2) has outstanding opportunities for solitude or a primitive and unconfined type of recrea- tion; (3) has at least five thousand acres of land and is...of sufficient size as to make practicable its preser- vation and use in an unimpaired condition; and (4) may also contain ecological, geological, and other features of scientific, educational, scenic, or historical value. (pp. 2 and 3) About the only concrete guide to allocation in this defini— tion is that the area should be at least 5,000 acres in size. The present study, in the face of these definitional diffi- culties, offers the concept of institutionalized wilderness as a starting point for coming to grips with wilderness as it is embodied in land use programs of organized groups of land owners or managers. This distinguishes between what we may imagine the Values of wilderness and its use to be and what we have actually identified by our past allocations, by formal designation or informal sanction, as wilderness land. A tract of institutional- ized wilderness land may generally be thought of as having some or all of the following characteristics: lO Definite designation of an area as "wilderness" or a wilderness-like term with an avowed purpose to maintain its wilderness-like character. 2. A definite name which associates it in the minds of administrators and others with a definite place or lo- cation. 3. More or less definite boundaries, usually known on the ground by local residents and visitors and capable of being identified on a map. Some direct or indirect legal authority for designation and enforcement of management provisions. 5. A more or less definite plgg or philosophy for managing the designated area. Institutionalized wilderness may be strongly associated with a particular group or agency. The most well-known are the U.S. Forest Service classified wilderness-type areas, including the Primitive, Wilderness and Wild Areas on the National Forests. If a national wilderness preservation system is enacted into law, the areas included in the system under this law would also be "institutionalized." National Park back~country areas are borderline cases under this concept, and Bureau of Land Management roadless areas are just now beginning to receive this kind of institutionalized recognition. Roadless areas on Indian lands administered by the Bureau of Indian Affairs have been designated since 1937, although there were only two of an original 15 such dGaignated areas left on BIA-administered lands in 1960 (Wildland 11 Research Center, Univ. Calif., 1962). Although some undeveloped and wilderness-type lands exist on wildlife refuges and ranges, this kind of use was not the purpose for which these areas were established under U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service custodianship. These are all considered managed areas. At least one state has given institutional wilderness status to state lands. This is New York with its New York State Forest Preserve. The practical convenience of the concept of institutional- ized wilderness is unmistakable. It avoids at the outset the immediate concern, in a vacuum as it were, with specification of land characteristics and the explicit identification of associated wilderness values. In effect it lets "society" make a vote Without forcing the observer to "outguess" society. Furthermore, because there is a substantial amount of land allocated to wilder- ness, and because there is a relatively extensive documentation of this allocation, a substantial body of information and experi- ence is available to draw upon for inferential purposes. It should be kept in mind, of course, that merely because we examine What has been done, past votes of social preference do not necessarily condone similar votes for future generations. Hence, research and future generations are free to determine or change the allocation of lands in the future, as well as to manage those lands already and potentially allocated to wilderness pur- Poses. 12 The kind of institutionalized wilderness to which this study has lieen directed is U.S. Forest Service wilderness in general and, specifically, U.S. Forest Service wilderness in the Pacific Northwest States of Oregon and washington. More specific characteristics of this kind of institutionalized wilderness are developed in a later section of this report. The Intent of This Study The broad purpose of this study was simply to become well acquainted with the matter of allocating land, National Forest land in particular, to wilderness use. This, in turn, was based upon the urgency with which a number of questions have been asked about particular aspects of this matter in recent years by National Forest administrators and others. After some casting about in the literature on wilderness and discussions with various Forest Service personnel and other individuals, it was decided that five broad questions could be asked that would help develop a useful understanding of wilderness: 1. What are some of the dominant ideas in the background of the wilderness allocation record? 2. What are some salient characteristics of land allocation and land use planning that have some relevance for wilderness land use allocation and planning? 3. What can we glean from the record of wilderness land allocation in general, and in the Northwest in particular, that will help us understand this process better? 13 To what extent does economics provide useful insights into wilderness land allocation? 5. What do the answers to the above questions tell us about how we may improve our knowledge of and decision making techniques for allocating land to wilderness? It was the intent of the study to describe and analyze only the land allocation aspect of wilderness and not the after-allocation use and management of wilderness. This has not been accomplished entirely because of the interrelatedness of use and allocation. Nevertheless, a distinction between these two segments of the "whole" problem has been maintained, and research dealing with the after-allocation phase is a clear complement to the research reported here. In order to provide a point of departure for this study, the idea of wilderness as a land allocation problem was selected. It was felt that this would provide some relatively rigorous structure to the study and would deal rather directly with the public land administrator’s questions of what kind, how much, and where, which arise when specific physical units of land are to be manipulated, managed, or dedicated to particular uses. Although wilderness land allocation does not appear to rely heavily upon economic values and choice mechanisms, economic values are invariably called for during deliberations in the allocation process. Even if they were not, public land adminis- trat°r8 and Others are aware of the fact that this kind of land allocation does have economic consequences, both positive and 14 negative, which are just as real as, say, the psychological consequences. These should be made explicit so that these rather major land use decisions can be made in the light of as much relevant fact as possible. One of the products of the study, therefore, is a better understanding of the role of economics analysis in wilderness land allocation decision making. A "spin-off" benefit of this is a better understanding of the use- fulness of economics analysis in general in the field of outdoor recreation. The "Decision Making Model" Approach Since Wbrld War II, and particularly over the past decade, a specifically identified body of literature in decision making has been springing up. Rates (1962), Halter (1963), and Simon (1959) provide excellent leads into this area, although Edwards (1954) provides a traditional listing of "decision making" literature. It is, at best, difficult to really determine where the boundaries are between decision making as a formal area of study and other analyses which certainly are concerned with decision making, but which have not chosen to underscore decision making pg; gs. This lack of clear-cut distinction seems to arise from the fact that many students in various disciplines, but particularly in psychology, mathematics, sociology, political science, and economics, have resurveyed research done under other guises and used the results to push forward in work on decision making processes themselves. It is, thus, partly a matter of old wine in new bottles. 15 Because of the vast number of sources which can be used to furnish decision making insights in this broad sense, any "general survey" of relevant literature seems presumptuous and arbitrary. This is particularly true with regard to the present study which is in a real sense a study of decision making, but which does not claim to provide more than a general description of a decision making environment and process of a particular agency with respect to a particular problem. In this study, the record of Forest Service wilderness land allocation, such as it is, has been examined against its relevant ideological background to determine what should be referred to as the general conformation of the decision making process or "model" used by the Forest Service. Prescribed allocation objectives, criteria, and legal authorities have been examined. Various influences on the process of choice have been noted insofar as these are a matter of record. This has, thus, been primarily an attempt to accurately describe what actually has happened without a priori forcing upon the subject any formal decision making model. In this respect the study is largely inductive. Some theoretical concepts served to direct the inquiry, of course, and some inferences are drawn. These inferences subsequently lead to recommendations for fact gather- ing, measurement, and choice mechanisms which, it is inferred, Will improve the decision making process. In this respect, the study becomes somewhat deductive. 16 Although a "general survey" of decision making literature would be presumptuous, it is, nevertheless, instructive to glance briefly at selected issues in this field for the conceptual underpinning they provide. These are: 1. Rationality. 2. Philosophical points of view. 3. Uncertainty, probability, and utility. 4. Level of knowledge. 5. Objectivity and explicitness. Rationality The issue under this head is related to the possibility, indeed probability, of misinterpreting choices made by decision makers simply because the particular means-ends scheme of the decision maker is not fully known to or jointly held by the observer. Figure 2 is a paradigm of the relationship of means to ends in decision making and problem solving. This represents what is probably an uneasy alliance of similar simple concepts by Heady (1952), Firey (1960), and Dewey (1939). Problem solving activity arises out of doubts, confusion, or conflict between alternative outcomes of activities. we gather facts (or obtain resources) which are manipulated by our adaptable skills and Emthodologies, conditioned by the kind of political economy framewark we live in, further modified by or reflective of our cultural heritage, and directed toward one of a set of perceived Objectives. 17 ACTIVITY ORIGIN B S PROBLEM {com-USION C NFL IcT _ -— F — — — — - I PERCEIVED ”NVERCEIVEa INPUIS Lupuicov‘ggo 1 '— Rtsounce | Rescues: /L_ __ _ ...._ _ :1- -" INPWS °‘ "“5 INN’TS _,_|-upu1's tO_C—M.L_-_‘-{ UMTLMLAit—L— 3 DATA Pnooucrwe \ '51?on UN—KNOWN -0uT or _:|- FACTORS LOCAL IQMOQANCE I A l"""'-"l\ 222-'22:." + l L l LACK o: intieL-eu‘r— J Annex-:86: L---« POLITICAL ECONOMY Econowgg Fogcg Fees Cuouce puma tuowlounusn Sstov Etc. ETC. 4 I l CULTURAL INFLUENCE s Pmuosopuv F usron 'REUGION l i l SPscTnuM as Paceweo ENDS 0R Coussoocucts iz'fi clog glzdl 3 may: I! I35; 3|§§Ia§| I 55‘. ngl‘ E - g,- E" ulé‘lzfliié? $335236 rumowu-1/J-afu.“ uuouscoveeeo SKL .’ 0:033N|ZATUON IRRt‘LEVANT // l— — — — — :1— _ - 1? Skw": SKITL ' \ 3- “r“"OWN OUT OF @3352" I ‘1 LOCAL Ieuomuca I -—————--J ¥ — - — — _ - — — — 1 UNPERCENKD on quuowu Pouncm. ECONOMY AND CULTURAL Innueuces P _ — — _ - — vuPEchcws'o tubs OR ' CONSEQUENCES L-——--—-——J Figure 2.--Generalized ends—means relationship in a problem solving or decision making context. 18 This is, of course, not a straightforward, one—way process due to "feedback" (represented by the dashed arrow lines) from one segment of the process to another. What we perceive as ends or consequences of alternative actions may in turn help us select relevant skills and resources as well as help define the problem. Adaptable skills may help determine which resources or facts are usable as well as useful. Our social and political institutions, as Well as relative economies, may help us determine which proc— esses are available. Cultural influences in turn may predetermine what strategies, for example, are permissible. The diagram illustrates the potential perpetuity (or ultimate indeterminate- ness) of the decision making process. It also illustrates the key position of problem definition and perception in systematic problem solving or decision making. The dashed line boxes on the right-hand side of the paradigm indicate the possibility of, and some reasons for, apparent lack of perception on the part of the decision maker who is observed. For example, one reason certain inputs or processes mAy not be perceived by the decision maker is because the decision maker has never experienced the use of such inputs or processes in the particular problem context in which he finds himself. Furthermore, the observer may simply be more aware or aware of a different set of inputs, processes, etc., than the decision Hmker, and what is perfectly rational (in the sense of a logical selection of inputs and processes to meet a selected objective) to the decision maker may be irrational to the observer. A large 19 part of the problem can be seen in this paradigm as a matter of knowledge: the amount and kind of knowledge available to the decision maker. This includes knowledge about how to use facts as well as the facts themselves. Unless the observer is aware of the perceived set of rela- tionships in the decision maker’s set of inputs and the value systems which influence the decision process, he will not be able to evaluate the rationality of particular decisions. While different rational decisions may be made by different decision makers, these decisions may not be considered more or less ration— al except from an explicitly defined basis of rationality. Philosophical Points of View Churchman (1961) raises the important issue of the role of the scientist in decision making. In erecting a ”science of values" (i.e., a systematic exploration and testing of hypo- theses about the existence and use of values), there are en- countered at least four points of view on the position of the scientist in relation to the decision maker: (1) the scientist 323 scientist can do no more than gather relevant facts without verifying recommendations; (2) the scientist can examine the decision maker’s past behavior and recommend on the basis of rational rules of consistency; (3) the scientist can recommend on the basis of the rules of rational decision making used in Seience itself; or (4) recommendations--what "ought to be done"—— are valid because they flow from the notion of measuring the values of the decision maker's objectives. The present study 20 leans heavily on the second of these positions identified by Churchman. This position does not, incidentally, prevent the Scientist from presenting the decision maker with facts about ethical constraints or social preferences. Alternative philosophical positions have been identified by Johnson (1960) as a warning that restriction of effort to any single position—-either as decision maker or scientist-~may cause one to unnecessarily forego insights provided by other positions. These philosophical positions are: 1. Positivism.--Positivists avoid normative positions (declaration of "good" and "bad" or the "oughts") be- cause of the difficulties of verifying normative arguments. They tend toward describing what happens vis a vis what ought to happen, or how problems ought to be solved. The only evidence of what is wanted is what is done. N Conditional normativism.-—Facts do not speak for them- selves. "Ought to" goals or theories tell the decision maker which facts are relevant and what they mean. Objectives are taken as given and values are not a matter of choice. 3. Outright normativism.--An "outright normativist" answers questions about which values should be sought-— i.e., what is good, bad, better, best, right, or wrong. 21 ‘4. Pragggtism.--Ends and means are related, sometimes to the extent that means determine ends as well as ends determine means. The value of an end may determine the value of the means; although the value of the means may stand as a measure of the end. We cannot accept ends entirely as given or else we will find cases in which means are not available and we may not make any strides toward solving problems. 5. Modern welfare economics.--This position is characterized by an unwillingness to impose on others non-Pareto better adjustments; i.e., it is not willing to let some lose a little while others gain a lot in the hope of a net gain to society. It refuses to judge uncompensated changes. It may combine with a strong attachment to individualism as a value and inhibit intelligent approach to value problems. It tends to favor what is over what ought to be if what ought to be requires non-Pareto better adjustments. The present study contains traces of all positions. Uncertainty, Probability, and Utility A major issue, perhaps a central stimulus, of decision making studies as a special field of inquiry, is uncertainty. This is suggested in the paradigm of figure 2. Traditionally, the concepts of probability and utility—-and the attempts to quantify them-—have been used to plunge into the problem of uncertainty in a more certain way. 22 Simply put, the decision maker is cast as one who has a problem to solve or must take some action. He knows a number of alternative actions to take and some possible alternative out- comes. What he does not know is which outcome will actually occur in response to particular actions. He may also not know which action to take in response to a known outcome. The choice criterion of rationality in this situation is usually expressed in words to the effect of maximizing expected utility. This, in turn, implies that the decision maker should be able to objectify the probabilities of occurrence of the perceived outcomes, as well as the value (and probabilities thereof) to him of each outcome. It is also usually implied that, even if he cannot establish these values, he should act as if he could, or think in this manner. Figure 3 is a schematic representation of the knowledge system for the decision. We choose that action that yields the highest sum of expected values (over all events possible from the given action). Halter (1963) compares the formulations of decision making Problems by Raiffa (1962) and Chernoff and Moses (1959) to illustrate the use of Bayesian statistics in problem 23 P311 Ell V11 PVll . . . . . . . PEnl En]. an Pvnl P3111]. Elm VIII] Pvlm . . . . . . . PEnm Enm Vnm Pvnm/ MW ’ .. A1 An Where, A1 = alternative action or choice E1 = alternative event resulting from Ai Vi = value attached to E1 PEi = probability of Ei Pvi = probability of Vi being correct Figure 3.~-Schematic representation of a knowledge system for decision making. 24 solving.§/ This subject is also treated in some detail by Schlaifer (1959) and Edwards, Lindman, and Savage (1963). Halter's comparison concisely states the problem of selecting appropriate actions when probabilities of possible outcomes are unknowu, thus generating the need for gathering more information about the state of nature in order to ascertain probability distributions about potential outcomes and values. Boehm (1964) states that Bayes was not a Bayesian, however. Briefly characterized, Bayesians believe that probability—~the kind used in "real life" decisions--is largely a matter of §/_ Thomas Bayes was an 18th-century cleric, who devised a mathematical theorem which deals with the probabilities of hypotheses regarding the state of nature or occurrences of particular events. His original formulation is found in "An Essay Toward Solving a Problem in the Doctrine of Chances," Philosophical Transactions, 1764, 1765. The "Bayes Formula," as derived by Uspensky (1937), is as follows: (B A) = (Bi)(A,Bi) 1’ (Bl) (A,Bl)+(32) (A,Bz)+- - .+(Bn) (A,Bn) Where, A = an event which will occur only if one of a set of other events (B1,BZ,...,Bn) occurs. Bl’BZ""’Bn = set of exhaustive and incompatible events. (Bl),(B2)a-‘-’(Bn) = probabilities of these events correspond- } ing to the total absence of knowledge as to the occurrence or nonoccurrence of A. (AlBi)3 i = 1:2,---,n = the conditional probabilities of A occurring given the occurrence of B. 25 personal conviction. Others, such as Coombs and Beardsley (1954), incorporate ideas of subjective probabilities into formal models of decision making, but are concerned with how these estimates differ from objective or real world probabilities. Bayesians, on the other hand, begin with prior ideas of probability (e.g., a bent coin may be assigned a prior probability of coming up heads 60 percent of the time); then more information is gathered in order to modify the prior judgment. If prior judgments or con- victions are strongly held, and if initial observations or test data give no reasons for denying the prior judgment, a Bayesian may accept the validity of the prior hypothesis and act accord- ingly. The "Bayes Formula" is used to modify the prior judgment. Most important, however, is the readiness with which the prior judgment approach of the Bayesians allows them to consider the once-only occurrence for which frequency distributions have no meaning. For example, expert opinions on what would happen if 100 H-bombs were to fall on the United States would be solicited and treated as statistical evidence by Bayesians.£/ Bayesian decision making can, in turn, be linked with se- Quential analysis developed by Wald (1947). This is essentially a sampling rationale which operates on the successive terms of the sequence of the observations as they are received. It is a method which enables ones to systematically proceed with samp- ling even though no prior estimates of population variance, and, M 3] This is the example used by Boehm (1964), although its applicability to other circumstances is readily apparent. 26 hence, sample size, are known. In this respect, it varies some- what from Bayesian analysis. The method is designed for testing hypotheses and involves making three decisions: (1) accept the hypothesis; (2) reject the hypothesis; (3) continue to take addi- tional observations.§/ The subject of utility (or the "worth" of something to some- one) has long occupied a central position in theory, especially in economics where utility and its measures provide criteria for the application of the economizing principle to questions of choice. Most of the concern has centered on the extent to which 2/ Hoel (1947) provides perhaps the most concise exposition of the mechanics of sequential analysis: 1. Determine probability for observed variable estimates. Probability is a function of x: f (x,9) (where probability of x variable, assuming value of x = 9) 2. Establish hypothesis. 3. Postulate an alternative hypothesis. 0 = 91 4. Form the likelihood ratio. —-—-———-——‘.——_—____ Probability of l being true = le = f(X1,91)f(X2,91)---f(Xm,91) Probability of 9 Pom f(x1,90)f(x2,90)...f(xm,90) being true where X1,x2,...,xm represent m random sample values of x. 27 utility can be quantified, and whether interpersonal utility com- parisons are valid. The Hicks-Pareto school of analysis denies interpersonal comparisons and objectification of utility except in an arbitrary way, using "indifference curves" and ordinal prefer- ence scales. Dissatisfaction with this view resulted in the now famous Friedman-Savage formulation (Friedman and Savage, 1948), which, while it did permit a kind of objectification of the indi- vidual utility function and an explanation of insuring and gambling, still did not permit valid interpersonal utility com— parisons. Welfare economists have continued to search for ways of making such interpersonal comparisons. Haring and Smith (1959) have, in turn, attempted to correct the Friedman-Savage hypothesis, and in so doing have contributed 5. Let, ‘r = probability of making error of the first kind (rejecting hypothesis when true) ’1? = probability of making error of second kind (fail to reject hypothesis when false) 6. Perform sequential probability ratio test. a. If P1111 s /3 , accept h: o = 90 Pom 1"“ b. If 1’11“ a 1-/:3, accept h: e = 91 P m ex 0 c. If a < le < l-A, take an additional 1-°¢ Pom 0‘ observation 7- Continue procedure until either 6a or 6b is satisfied. 28 additional hypotheses, in an explicit way, to the concept of utility in decision making. They point out three classes of decisions involving risk or uncertainty: (1) operational de- cisions where utility is principally a function of income; (2) marginal decisions which are influenced appreciably by fac- tors other than income but associated with the possibility of only small losses; (3) structural decisions which are characterized by possible outcomes which appreciably change the whole future course of events for the decision maker. Although they restrict their analysis to operational decisions, they develop a subjective probability approach with rather wide applicability. They pose a five-step process which gradually narrows the range of possible outcomes: (1) estimate amount of effort to expend on the choice; (2) select a "manageable" set of possible outcomes; (3) elimi- nate extreme "bad" or "not good enough" outcomes; (4) select single central value for each alternative action; (5) select that action with "best" central value. Also related to these efforts are developments in game theory, in which attemptS'are made to objectify and rationalize personal "strategies." John von Neumann and Oskar Morgenstern (1944) provide the classic treatise. Rapoport's (1962, p. 108) critique is especially descriptive, however, when he states that game theory is not really concerned with chance or psychological aspects of conflict: 29 It is concerned with the logic of conflict, that is, with the theory of strategy.... Its strength de— rives from the powerful and intricate mathematical apparatus that it can bring to bear on the strategic analysis of certain conflict situations. The limita— tions are those inherent in the range of conflicts to which this analysis can be successfully applied. At this juncture, in order to provide some temporal per— spective in the field of economics and its concern with these questions, We should call attention to the works of Knight (1921), Hardy (1923), Hart (1940, 1949), Tintner (1941), Shackle (1949), and Simon (1955), who dealt explicitly with incorporat- ing the ideas of uncertainty and expectations in economic reason- ing. We associate with these writers such concepts as risk, "true" uncertainty, potential surprise, compounded probabilities, and satisficing. "Expectation model" studies, particularly in agricultural economics, can also be pointed out as an attempt to empirically supplement economic theory with how decision makers really do account for uncertainty. Partenheimer and Bell (1961) have surveyed some of these studies as well as contributed to the Interstate Managerial Survey, which studied midwestern farmers and how they form expectations of future events. Level of Knowledge The paradigm of figure 2, the knowledge system of decision making shown in figure 3, and the preceding discussion have all identified the obvious role information, data, or "experience" Plays in making decisions. Bross (1953) also reminds us that the information we obtain is "fuel" for the decision maker and that answers obtained from even the most precise methods are no 30 better than the data that is used. "Good data," Bross tells us, have at least three characteristics: 1. They are relevant. 2. They are free of bias. 3. They can be repeatedly obtained and are useful in problem solving. we can also note here two other aspects of "good data" that must be borne in mind: 4. They are available in the right amount-~not too much or too little in view of the decision to be made. 5. They are of acceptable quality or satisfactorily error- free. We can conceptualize some decision specifications based on level-of—knowledge concepts. A summary of some of these ideas is given by Johnson and Lard (1961), and these are in turn critiqued by Halter (1963). The general concept of decision specification is shown in figure 4. In figure 4 the concepts of the cost of obtaining informa— tion, the value of the additional information in overcoming un- certainty, and providing a "sound" basis of decision making are merged. Presumably, that combination of activities which yields information in amount "A" will be chosen because it is at this Point that marginal "cost" and marginal "returns" are equal. In this case, more than dollar costs and returns are included. Normative costs, utility, personal values sacrificed, the Opportunity costs of the time of the decision maker are all COST {1‘ OR RETURN P4C: I I : MR I I I I ' :- 0 A INFORMATION Figure 4.--The geometry of decision specification and level 0f knowledge. 32 involved. Returns are related to such things as tile preserva- tion of the ability to make a decision, security3 ILove of risk, etc. This rationale for information gathering to overcome un- certainty can be employed to classify or predict the need for more information gathering activity under alternative degrees of knowledge. Figure 5, for example, indicates a "certainty" situation where information is so good that no precautions are taken against being wrong. Figure 6 represents a situation where it is too costly to gather more information, even though a decision may require more, or that there is simply too much information available already. In either case, it is an "inaction" situation so far as gathering more data is concerned. Figure 7 depicts the case where a decision is made even though insufficient evidence has been gathered. This is called the "forced action" situation. Some "outside" force causes this decision maker to act in spite of his knowledge situation. Figure 8, on the other hand, shows the situation where the decision maker is free to gather more information up to "A" amount. This is referred to as the "learning" situation. Figure 9 attempts to portray the somewhat more realistic Situation wherein the costs and returns cannot be so precisely estimated and a "band" of values for each, rather than a curvi- linear set, exists. In such a case, a broad zone of knowledge P°SSibilities "A" may prove satisfactory to the decision maker. COST 0 COST Rama» Rm»..- WX'TL O A zumnmnon A' INFORMATION Figure 5.--Certainty. Figure 6.--Inaction. COST c837 on Ramon: RETURN MC. \ l I MR 1 l i O O A' A Insomnia-mu F1gure 7.--Forced action. Figure 8.--Learning. 34 ‘ COST 1, ‘ ¢3Q l RETURN \\ l \ . ‘ \‘~ . . MC \ . ' \ .. ‘ v°\1/ o c 5 ' . .}\ o.l\.\ N . ' /r/cf'\ . o o ' .I. \\\ l ~\l MR I |\ l I ‘ 0 w Iuroananou A } Figure 9.-—Zone of satisfaction. 35 This zone is called here the "zone of satisfaction," and no more knowledge would be gathered at either A' or A". Halter (1963) raises a question about the relevance of inaction and forced action cases. He also suggests the need to more closely examine why information seeking continues even after decisions are made and actions are taken. His hypothesis is based upon Festinger's (1963) theory of cognitive dissonance. This theory is developed to accommodate and explain the observed phenomenon of persons changing their opinions. It also ex- plains why people even distort their perception of and informa- tion about the world about them. These phenomena are said to arise because of a compulsion to make things psychologically consistent with other accepted concepts. An additional comment seems appropriate here. The fore- going discussion of knowledge levels has placed little empha- sis, except implicitly, on the need to carefully evaluate the value of the decision to be made. Baumol and Quandt (1964, P- 24) provide a word of practical advice in this regard by stating, "The more refined the decision-making process, the uwre expensive it is likely to be, and therefore, especially where a deciSion is not of crucial importance no more than an aPProximate solution may be required." Rules of thumb, no matter how vexing to those who must employ explicit, precise, multivariable mathematical calculations, may provide the l'best"_method for analyzing problems and making decisions. Spurious concreteness and accuracy may be the only result of 36 carrying calculations to the fifth decimal place. Furthermore, the expense may exceed the value of information obtained by such means. Objectivity and Egplicitness Much of the above discussion could be said to relate to attempts to explicitly objectify the bases for and mechanics of decision making. A final brief point seems appropriate here. A great deal is said about the need to be "objective" in our approach to problem solving and the need to explicitly identify the bases for decisions. As we may readily observe, however, there is a great deal of subjectivity and judgment in making decisions. Sometimes (frequently), even the decision maker is consciously unaware of how or why a particular de- cision was made, attributing it simply to "feel" or "common sense," or even to reasons which really had nothing or very little to do with the decision. While the decisions that are made on these bases may lead to "right" actions, they are, nevertheless, frustrating to those who wish to understand why and how the decision was made. As Firey (1960, p. 244) has observed: Common sense can have a blighting effect upon planning. The reason for this paradox lies in the fig 322 Character of common sense statements. Their truths are contingent; they are unsystematic; and they are un— related to other truths in any specified way. The re- source planner or policy maker who would eschew theory for COmmon sense is likely to find himself relying on c°ntradiCtory precepts to guide him in his decision making. 37 In no area of planning is this more true than in the area of natural resources. "Of course we should develop idle resources for use!" "Of course we should conserve resources for posterity." In these two "self-evident" assertions there is likely to be, for the unwary at least, a real contradiction. It has been suggested that the objectivity of problem solving (and presumably its explicitness) would be enhanced if the following three—part test were kept in mind by decision makers :E/ l. The test of clarity. ‘ 2. The test of consistency. a. External. b. Internal. 3. The test of workability. A concept, action, or decision is understood and accepted more readily if it: 1 1. Can be understood and communicated between people i (clarity). l 2. Matches up with or bears a logical relationship to previously held or generally accepted concepts (in- ternal consistency), and if it also is consistent with experience (external consistency). 3. Allows the outcome of certain actions to be positively predicted by the use of the concept (workability). R 5/ Stat _U I am indebted to Professor G. L. Johnson of Michigan Hume: Diversity for these ideas which are also outlined in his graphed discusgiOn paper "Some Philosophic Thoughts About mm x (4) 3 Work," prepared for the fall 1961 meeting of NCR(4). 38 Wilderness as a Forest Service Problem in the Pacific Northwest The present study, while touching on wilderness matters in general, is mainly concerned with Forest Service classified wilderness-type areas (institutionalized wilderness) in the Pacific Northwest Region (Oregon and Washington) and potential classified wilderness-type areas. It is concerned, therefore, with how the Forest Service has made land allocation decisions in the classification process and how it will make them in the future. It is also concerned with possible means of improving the decision making process in terms of objectifying relevant facts and choice mechanisms. Table 1 shows the acreage by kind of classified wilderness- type area on the National Forests of the Pacific Northwest Region (Region 6), as of January 1, 1964. These 2,133,743 acres were spread over 9 Wild Areas, 3 Wilderness Areas, and 2 Primitive Areas (fig. 10). There is no firm figure available regarding the amount of potential classified wilderness-type areas in the Northwest, although some estimates are brought together in a later section of this report. We do know that much National Forest land is yet undeveloped for roads, that a substantial acreage of po- tential wilderness was inventoried during the National Forest Outdoor Recreation Survey of 1959 and 1960, and that several areas are currently under consideration for classification by the Forest Service. 39 Table l.--Classified wilderness-type acreage on the National Forests of the Pacific Northwest Region as of Januagy l, 1964 State Type of Area Total Oregon [Washington --------- Acresl/- - - - - - - - - - Primitive Areas 86,700 801,000 887,700 Wild Areas 249,889 125,091 374,980 Wilderness Areas 412,958 458,105 871,063 Total 749,547 1,384,196 2,133,743 1/ — Net National Forest acres, excluding a minor amount of private inholdings (5,079 acres). _ t r N ac _.._._ '0 "new" . e 1. w "Mfr °__..____,.___._.—-- 1 ' ' ' r“ “.1 -. - . . . . \_.J . '\ 5 I I, I snow-o r0 HIIMULI ‘ J ___ I ‘I . I 1 If— \ v I ammo I i I < . i 1 ‘o v. u I . / («Al 1 .__‘_‘ h _ <- i. _ . m ‘ ". I 4 . 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Con Boy I ; r r -> 99 Renew-q ‘ o _ . . . ___‘_‘ , .. v ‘ . ' I rf Q / ' >; I ' Q ‘ ‘ rs ‘| _ . . Leg—I. . I urn A0 0P10Ipcc|( \ ' n‘! -. I \ J- r": J \ "If“ stun 1‘: ml- . 5"“ ‘" G'Mfll Hush: u; D ‘\‘ loch 1‘ no . ,_ 9' mega-In...» I: mural-k?" ' “V- ,1 9'! ..vaIon ram -.I “1"“ .-’ “Medium NJ" I) ,. ‘ ‘7 , __ ’_ name". L- -~,; ‘ | 4; 'I) ~ ~./— ram ° _ - o ‘ g5“; 3;.{3_ :‘ ; anlcu ——-— 6;, V f 51”?" '0 an ant: ’70 pt” _ 't h :l . I _ . i I 0 l0 Inn-m- um In sum E LEGEND - :NATIOIAL mtm IILnuuru-Tvn Anus uIJJ --n no I L h. .. - Figure l0---Classified wilderness-type areas on the National F orests of Region 6 as of January 1: 1964‘ 41 The Northwest Region Forest Service wilderness classifi- cation decision making environment is characterized by a number of interesting highlights, land use competition and conflicts. Timber values appear to dominate the alternative use values of portions of existing or potential classified wilderness-type areas. Mineral values have historically been involved in some major wilderness land allocation decisions, notably in the Glacier Peak case. Organized outdoor groups, industrial organizations and individual firms, and other land resource managing agencies exert pressures on the decision making process. Just how all of these factors become involved in the allocation decision will be made more apparent throughout the body of this report. PART I IDEOLOGICAL AND LAND USE BACKGROUNDS 1 CHAPTER II ‘ HISTORICAL PROLOGUE AND PERSPECTIVES Again, some excellent overviews of wilderness have been ll provided by others. This study does not intend to duplicate those former efforts. Nevertheless, it is virtually impossible I to understand the decision making framework for wilderneSS with- out a brief excursion through some of the ideas which surround it. 1 1 Man, Nature, and Wilderness 1 One has only to glance at a list of titles of books and 1 articles on wilderness to sense a basic concern with the rela- 1 tionship between man and nature. With such a mixture of ambig— I uous concepts as man, nature, and wilderness, it would not be j surprising to find an equally ambiguous mixture of syllogisms ra— tionalizing the relationships between them. It is definitely not surprising, however, to find a strong affinity for that kind of transcendental spirituality associated with Emerson and Thoreau in the prowilderness rationale. There does not appear to be such a mainstream of sentiment representing those who oppose wilder- ness, presumably because there is no one who really opposes wil— derness in toto. Opposition seems, rather, to be a function of particular times and places. Furthermore, opposition in this sense is a different thing than the primitive act of wresting from undeveloped resources the wherewithal of physical survival. Perhaps a glimmer of understanding can be obtained by briefly characterizing these two contrasting concepts of man’s relation to nature and then summarizing some of the apparent symbols of latter-day wilderness. 42 43 Man Against Nature Nash (1963) cites the first chapter of Genesis, verse 28, in the Old Testament of the Christian Bible as a rationale for exploiting wilderness: "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over...every living thing that moveth upon the earth." This would have no relevance in the face of institutionalized wilderness except that institu- tionalized wilderness also has been brought into man's dominion. At any rate, from this point of view nature is a store- house of materials to which man makes access for his physical needs and desires. In this view, obstacles to this access are condemned. Verdant forests and stately trees stand in the way of the plow and highway. In view of man‘s civilized survival objectives, wilderness is inhospitable. It is not difficult to comprehend, therefore, that a visitor to the New World in the 1790's would remark that (Chinard, 1945): "...the most striking feature of America is the rugged and dreary prospect of an almost universal forest." Furthermore, wresting physical goods from an undeveloped nature with primitive tools can be a physically wearying task, even for the skilled craftsman. In such circumstances, a straight-hewn plank may give more satis- faction (and be more scarce, hence, valuable) than a shade- casting oak. 44 Man With Nature It does not seem to be a precise statement of contrast to say that the utilitarian notion of man's relationship to nature is raised in opposition to the concept of nature, as beauty and a tangible symbol of intangible values and concepts for nature have utility even in this context. It seems more precise to merely state that there are these two points of view and that, in particular times and places, a choice must be made between 1 the different utilities that nature can provide. Even this is somewhat ambiguous since a timber worker may be genuinely grateful for the opportunity to make his living falling trees in the relative seclusion and beauty of the "working" forest.Z/ Regardless of the definitiveness of contrast, the charac- terization of nature in terms of its esthetic, spiritual, and cultural productivity or utility is, and has been, widely practiced. Such characterization provides the principal force behind the arguments for deliberate allocation of land to wil— derness status. From time immemorial, presumably, man has regarded nature as more than simply a repository of the wherewithal for physi- cal Well-being. Adams (1948) traces the development of naturalism in classical philosophy. This development provided nature with a "meaning" in man's terms. The entire life cycle could be observed in nature. Value systems and ethics of 1/ "Working" forest here implies a ”managed” forest, Where timber harvest characterizes the kind of management. 45 conduct were transferred to and reinferred from various aspects of nature. Pantheism provided a set of symbols for deifying various parts of this natural reflection of man's value system. Barnett and Morse (1963, p. 22) have since observed that, 'Tmch of the literature on natural resources and social welfare, although predominantly practical, has a strong undercurrent of philosophical naturalism." It is a short step from the estab- lishment of the premises of philosophical naturalism to state— ments of ethics or prescriptions of rules of conduct for man in his dealings with his natural environment. Aldo Leopold's (1949) plea for a "land ethic" is squarely in this spirit. Murie (1953, p. 18), in an admirably succinct way, re- flects the naturalistic philosophy of the wilderness proponent when he states, "Our conscience is the primal wisdom still speaking in a low voice." He also adds to the "moral right- ness" of wilderness land allocation by citing another biblical reference, Isaiah 5:8: ”Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth." Another wilderness spokesman, Sigurd Olson (1961, p. 25), offers the following widely held attitude in the same vein: It is here that wilderness will play its greatest role, offering this age a familiar base for explorations of the soul and the universe itself. By affording op- portunities for the contemplation of beauty and natural- ness as well as further understanding of the mysteries of life in an ecologically stable environment, it will 46 inculcate reverence and love and show the way to a humanism in which man becomes at last an understanding and appreciative partner with nature in the long evolution of mind and spirit. No serious article or treatise on wilderness has that aura of ultimate completeness until the names of Ralph waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau are invoked. These two popular patri- archs of American transcendentalism provided a rich store of philosophical rationalization for the wilderness point of view. Thoreau has been a particularly significant source for wilder— ness spokesmen. This is, in turn, of some significance as an insight into the motives of wilderness enthusiasts in view of Carter's (1961) distinction between Thoreau as representative of the wilderness-as-refuge notion and Emerson, the wilderness- as-affirmation point of view. Emerson's books, "Nature" and "Society and Solitude”; his essays, "The Transcendentalist," "Compensation," "The Over-Soul," "Circles," and "Nature"; and his poems, "Good-Bye," "The Rhodora," "May-Day," "Walden," and "Self-Reliance," to name a few; all contain statements of his beliefs in the interrelatedness of man, nature, and spirit. For Emerson, nature was a perfect reflector of man's moods and a transmitter of the entire scheme of life and spirit. Thoreau's point of View is sufficiently expressed in one book, 'Whlden." When it became apparent to Thoreau that "The mass 0f men lead lives of quiet desperation," he hied himself off t0 Walden Pond to employ only the "grand necessities" of life in seeking a "lost hound," a "bay horse" and a "turtle dove," 47 attentively listening all the while to "what was in the wind." Rencreation was the justification for refuge in wildness for Thoreau. Trevelyan (1931) weaved together a rationale for the good- ness of natural beauty from esthetic principles and naturalistic philosophy. He cited three general appeals of natural beauty: 1. Esthetic: color, form, feel, smell-~"tactile value." 2. Brotherly love: people are children of earth and have a kinship with "brother" tree and "sister" brook. 3. Moral and intellectual change in civilized man: recognition of man's complete victory over the landscape, which, in turn, gives rise to a new desire to get away from the "vulgarity" of this triumph back to the "old beginnings, to nature as God made her, as she rose from the deep of time." He has also observed that this "taste for mountain scenery" seemed to have grown concurrently with the Industrial Revolution. It is also important to note that man's concern with his relationship to nature can be readily traced in his formal ex- pressions of temperament and sensibilities in literature and art. Carter (1961) and Ruth (1957 and 1961) provide illuminating discussions of this. Smith (1957) provides supplemental documen- tation of this expressiveness from the historian's point of view. Ruth (1957), for example, attributes many of the develop- ments leading to the conservation movement to changes in the F—fi I5 48 { lhnerican point of view of nature. Lament for the passing of the wilderness in the East was turned to intellectual and emotional leadership for preserving what was left in the West. The literate leaders of politics and society were reading what was written by fashionable writers and poets, such as Howells, Garland, Wbrdsworth, and Whittier, who happened to write about nature and the commonplace for a variety of reasons including the Spiritual, esthetic, and political. Painters, such as Albert Bierstadt, in the 1860's and 1870's, provided a sense of pseudorealism and romance, and this was all of the wilder- ness that the influential majority ever saw. In a similar vein, Hart (1958, p. 35), among others, has suggested that the urge or movement to preserve wild land in a wild state in modern America is really "...a creative movement of some of our aesthetically most cultivated and imaginative people." Carter (1961) points out the Whitmanesque theme of man's re-creation by contact with nature’s "primal sanities," and a productive return to "faces and streets," and "interminable eyes." Both Carter (1961) and Smith (1957) resurrect Melville's "Moby Dick" and Captain Ahab’s quest for the white Whale. This tale is interpreted as a symbol of man's refuge in the sheer mystical wildness of nature, and his ultimate frustration in his attempt to comprehend it. 49 The Latter Day Symbolism of Wilderness What wilderness seems to mean to users (and nonusers as well, presumably) is still under study, in spite of the numerous expressions of feelings about wilderness, and such studies as those of Stone and Taves (1957 and 1958), Bultena and Taves (1961), Wildland Research Center at the University of California (1962), and Lucas (1964a and 1964b). A study of wilderness users is currently underway under the title of "Wilderness Recreation Dynamics" at the Pacific Northwest Forest and Range Experiment Station and is the only U.S. Forest Service research project to deal exclusively with wilderness recreation.§/ The Stone and Taves (1957 and 1958) study established five wilderness "images" for the users of the Boundary waters Canoe Area (then known as the Quetico-Superior Roadless Area). These are: l. Wilderness as a locale for sport and play. 2. The wilderness as a fascination. 3. The wilderness as a sanctuary. 4. The wilderness as a heritage. 5. The wilderness as personal gratification. Although these categories represent a rather broad range of fi/ This project has concentrated its initial efforts on studies in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area and vicinity in Oregon. It has tested the device of unmanned registration stations located at strategic wilderness entry points as a means 0f collecting measurements of visitations. The list of users so Collected has provided a basis for follow—up interviews. The resulting data are currently being analyzed. 50 Inotivation, they are based on an extremely small sample of 36 informants. These were repeated and interpreted by Bultena and Taves (1961). Sport and play, in this scheme, are two different kinds of activity. Play includes the strictly-for-fun or -relaxation forms of activity. Sport includes hunting and fishing, even though these may be engaged in for relaxation. Wilderness as fascination was considered a response to the "call of the wild," characterized by anticipations of adventure, exploration, relief of curiosity, or the challenge of struggling with the elements. Wilderness as sanctuary was both a matter of "getting away from it all" and of exchanging one set of personal relationships for another. Wilderness as heritage was seen as providing intergenerational continuity of the wilderness experi- ence. Personal gratification imagery was based on the various personal values produced by the wilderness experience that are not generally held by all users. The University of California Wildland Research Center (1962, p. 146) also categorized the "appeal" of wilderness based on personal interviews of 367 users of three wilderness- type areas. The results led the analysts to conclude that "there is something generic in the appeals of the wilderness Which is modified only in degree by the characteristics of any Particular area." The five general categories of "appeal" resulting from this study were: 51 l. Exit—-civi1ization. 2. Esthetic--religious. 3. Health. 4. Sociability. 5. Pioneer spirit. Reasons for visiting wilderness, as recorded in each category, included: 1. Exit--civi1ization. a. To get away from the sights, sounds, and smells of civilization. b. To get away from the demands of the work-a—day world. c. To have a change of pace, do something different. d. To be far away from crowds of people. e. To be alone for awhile. 2. Esthetic—-religious. a. To observe the beauty of nature. b. To find harmony with nature. c. To breathe the fresh air and drink the pure water. d. To gain a sense of communion with God. 3. Health. a. To keep healthy through vigorous outdoor activity. b. To get rid of tension. c. To take it easy. d. To restore health. 52 4. Miti- a. To enjoy the easy-going companionship of camp life. b. To be able to spend lots of time with my family. 5. Pioneer spirit. a. To live in a primitive way by camping out. b. To explore unchartered areas of the wild. c. To use and increase my skills in woodcraft. d. To experience the feeling of being able to survive on my own. e. To have a taste of the rugged life of the early pioneers or frontiersmen. f. To experience the thrill of facing the dangers of the wild. The above categories of motives and symbols are attractive because they seem to summarize, in a convenient fashion, a number of the kinds of images and motives which are found in the litera— ture on wilderness. Yet there is a detachment, an unrealness, a lack of real content in these categories. They still seem to lack.meaning and provide little assistance to the land (and Wilderness) manager-decision maker in formulating a land use rationale. By far the most insightful and idea-articulated study of the Wilderness user and his motivations to date is that by Burch.2/ i 2/ Burch, William R., Jr. Nature as symbol and expression 11916American social life: A sociological exploration. 520 pp. 4. (Unpublished Ph. D. thesis on file at Univ. Minn.) 53 Pk: studied the responses of "remote" (wilderness) and "easy access" (developed roadside campgrounds) forest campers to ques- tions designed to test certain hypotheses about their preferences for certain camping situations. The previously cited studies were much less oriented to hypothesis testing and were basically situation analyses, useful for providing some information about camper characteristics that might in turn provide a basis for more centrally~directed probing of camper characteristics. Burch has employed concepts of reference group theory to construct hypotheses about the status grouping and status motiva— tion of campers, especially remote campers. His assumption is that those who are upwardly mobile will attempt to follow the styles of those in the status group they have newly entered or to which they aspire. The newcomers may imitate imperfectly and/or vulgarly. This may cause established members of the group to move and form a new status style—group which excludes the "vulgar." Categories of social status group employed by Burch are based on occupation categories, which in turn are strongly colored by the kind of "meritocracy," ideas of "earned" rewards devolving from the Protestant work ethic notions developed by Max weber (1958). These categories and their status rank are tabulated below: 54 Occupation category Social status Professional, technical and kindred worker High Upper, nonmanual High Middle, nonmanual Middle Middle, manual Middle Farmers Middle Lower, manual , Low Burch then develops some hypotheses or propositions about the relationship of social status to camping style for testing, which are largely substantiated by the responses of campers to structured questions. These propositions are: 1. Middle class position is significantly related to participation in the camping play system. 2. The more primitive one's camping style, the more likely one occupies a higher social status level. 3. Easy—access campers tend to be recently mobile into nonmanual occupational positions. 4. The more primitive style campers have a long family history of high social status. He summarizes the significance of this line of reasoning this way: ...one Would expect the new middle-class, other-directed persons holding a social ethic to predominate in easy access areas and the old middle—class, inner-directed persons subscribing to a work ethic to predominate in the more primitive activities. If such prediction does hold, then it is an indication that an important function of play is the opportunity to carry out roles and values Which no longer prevail widely in society. If such is 55 the case, it is an important argument that it is socially valuable to protect "playgrounds" such as wilderness areas which allow the performance of archaic roles and values, to take up the slack for those whose life cycle is caught in a social cycle. (p. 366) This leads Burch in turn to a concluding observation on what is at stake when wilderness—type areas are threatened by nonwilderness uses: I do not deny the "motivations" of wilderness lovers that they find inspiration, release, reinvigora- tion, religious feelings, etc. I am sure that their feelings are real, for I find similar "motivations" in myself. What I am suggesting is that underlying such poetry is a genuine threat to a style of life which has long been associated with a particular social status in American life. This destruction of a measurement of position and worth is an urgent threat for it is a challenge to the basis of identity for an important social segment of American society. It is as much a threat to distinctions of mind and taste as are book burnings and witch hunts conducted in the name of equality. The powerful social circles can protect their minority symbols and actions, but a minority of middle status persons who inhabit circles of higher taste are powerless to protect their symbols and actions against the masses who carry the banners of progress given them by the high and the mighty. (p. 471) Leisure, Recreation, and Wilderness It is customary to view wilderness camping and hiking as a form of "leisure" or "recreation" as was done in the monu- mental Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commissionlg/ Studies. The usual inference made in this context is that the amount of leisure time activities or recreation engaged in is directly related to the amount of leisure time available. M“— lQ/ Hereinafter referred to as ORRRC. 56 Ymilderness camping, as a leisure time activity, would then be expected to increase not only as more individuals participate 'but also as all individuals obtain more leisure time. To the extent, then, that Wilderness is a leisure activity-centered land type, it becomes important in making judgments about how much Wilderness use can be anticipated to closely examine what leisure and recreation are, and just how wilderness ”demand" will be affected by changes in leisure and recreation. Even the briefest excursion through the ballooning body of "leisure literature" suggests that this field too is in the throes of organizing concepts, establishing points of view, and collecting and measuring data. In spite of the helter-skelter appearance of leisure analysis to the outsider, some noteworthy items in this area seem particularly suggestive for this study. These are briefly discussed here as: 1. Some leisure definitions. 2. Play concepts in camping. 3. Mbral and ethical points of view about leisure. 4. Time budget measures. 5. Quantifying wilderness recreation. Leisure Definitions A casual reading of leisure literature suggests a basic trilogy of related concepts: (1) leisure, (2) recreation, and (3) play. Leisure is the broadest concept and has a time measure. Bri8111213111 (1961) refers to it simply as a block of time wherein 57 ccunpulsion.is minimized. Weiss (1964, p. 21) writes that, 'ILeisure time is that portion of the day not used for meeting the exigencies of existence." Others (Neumeyer and Neumeyer, 1958, p. 14) have referred to leisure as the "free time after all duties, obligations, and other practical necessities have been attended to...." Still others note that it is the personal time which remains to be used by the individual and not sold, free from the com- pulsions of work and characterized by freedom of choice, among other things (Kaplan, 1960). De Grazia (1962), on the other hand, stresses a concept of leisure that eliminates all time in which the activities performed are not performed for their own sake. Leisure is ordinarily perceived by most writers, therefore, in a dichotomous way with work or gainful employment. We work so that we may have "free time," although some "free time" activities ready us for working again. In many instances, of course, we find individuals who live in a time context which does not distinguish between work and leisure, they are so inextricably interwoven. The cocktail party is business, and the office provides privacy for the pleasurable delights of creating new strategies. Anderson (1961) stresses this blending. Recreation is a term which denotes the action engaged in during the use of leisure time. Kaplan (1960) literally inter— Prets recreation activities as re—creative. De Grazia (1962, P~ 246) stresses the utilitarian nature of recreation by stating, I 'Recreation is activity that rests men from work, often by giving 58 tflnem a change (distraction, diversion), and restores (rercreates) them for work." Anderson (1961) points out the ccumnon conception of recreation as an activist concept——one nmist fig something to be recreating! Neumeyer and Neumeyer (1958) had earlier attempted to broaden the concept of recrea— tion to include not only the utilitarian activities, but also those activities valuable for themselves alone, thus encompass- ing most of the concept of leisure. The overall impression left by these writers is the consensus that recreation is an active use of, curiously, only a part (though perhaps a major part) of leisure time, with the utilitarian purpose of readying the individual for the continuing struggle with the "exigencies of existence." The third concept, play, refers mainly to the "role" of the recreationist, or hgy the recreation action is carried out in the use of leisure time. There is less consensus regarding the separate identity of this concept, apparently. It, never- theless, seems imminently useful to maintain it separately for discussing the kinds of things (and the reasons therefor) campers do in carrying out their leisure-consuming recreation activities. Play is the term which opens up the rules of the game for the recreating individuals. One does not just go camping for recreation,.apparently. One assumes the role (or r0158) of hiker, backpacker, climber, horseman, hunter, taxon- Omist, ecologist, artist, photographer, explorer, philosopher, frontiersmen. guide, etc. Each role requires a unique stance 59 or attitude and also may result in some peculiar modification of accouterments which "mark" the role. This, in turn, may be influenced by the stance assumed by particular group affilia- tions. For example, Sierra Club backpackers (and some others as well) are generally identified by the drinking cup carried on the waist belt. Some roles seem to have more status than others, and more than one status level may exist within a given role. These levels, in turn, may be marked by, say, a particu— lar make and model of hiking boot, or by the style and make of pack, or by the kinds of foods consumed during camping. In addition to these style differentiations in role playing, there are attitude differences. For example, one camper may buy all the "best" equipment at a single exclusive camping supply shop, while another may painstakingly shop around for the identical set of equipment looking for "bargain buys." The second camper may feel superior in status to the first because of his attitude and method differences. The overall significance of the above concepts for insight into leisure analysis for estimating wilderness demand is apparent. Some serious errors of estimate could result from basing projections of wilderness use solely on measures of "leisure time." The analyst must also be aware of shifts in participation in kinds of activities and in the style or role of recreation followed. 60 Play Concepts in Camping At least one researcher has concerned himself specifically with the types of play actions engaged in by forest campers. As a result of his observations of campers in the vicinity of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area of Oregon, Burchli/ identified six types of play action: 1. Symbolic labor--productive play action charac- terized by trophies and the quest for trophies. It is the search for tangibles which validate that the search was not in vain. Hunting, fishing, and rock collecting are examples. 2. Egpressive play--similar to what Roger Caillois calls ilinx, the "...attempt to momentarily destroy the stability of perception and inflict a kind of voluptuous panic upon an otherwise lucid mind." However, my use of "expressive" attempts to balance Caillois' individual- istic bias. It considers that ilinx always requires sympathetic others to be present, symbolically or physically, as witnesses to the induced disequilibrium. In fact, the disequilibrium requires an element of sobriety in others to complete its meaning. Dancing, water skiing, tree climbing, and rolling rocks down hill- sides are examples. 3. Subsistence play-~the ordinary demands of food, shelter, and protection are carried out under atypical conditions with a wide range of potential existences from comfort to discomfort. Due to these altered con- ditions, the ordinary is imbued with elements of play; it is made extra ordinary. 4. Unstructured play~-the creative and existential expressions of the individual as he experiments with the environment and himself. An example of these ex- pressions would be the multitude of potential forms a child can find in a pine cone. li/ Burch, William R., Jr. "The play world of camping: Research into the social meaning of outdoor recreation. Paper read at 58th annual meeting of the Amer. Sociol. Assoc. 26 pp. August 26~29, 1963. 61 5. Structured play-~play which is organized, l finite, and ruled by collective sanctions for the ( duration of its existence. It has clearly defined ‘ goals, traditionalized roles, and explicit means to the 1 goals. Games, contests, etc., are examples. This is similar to what Caillois calls agon——the contest. 6. Sociability--...the play form of human inter— action may gain in intensity when conducted in unique settings. In camping, one can have intense sociality with a small number of intimates or extensive sociality with a large number of strangers~—these levels offer different meanings. Another, and broader, set of categories is provided by Denney (1957), who also emphasizes the relationship between the interpretive media (e.g., literature, drama, art, and advertis- ing) and customs and manners. The three personal leisure "stances" seen in contemporary culture by him are: l. Participative purist-—reacts against spectatorship: "...he does things." He is a member of the group which draws the line between participation and observation. | 1 He works at drawing this line to exclude others and 1 ‘ dominates the stage of ayggglggggg leisure. l 2. Spectatorial purist~—promulgates the doctrine of the interaction between the artist and the audience; i.e., the audience is given things to do by the artist. He is a member of a group with a social identity (status) outside the Spectatorial situation itself. 3. Reality purist-~either accepts or demands the literal in leisure use. He cannot accept fantasy. He is the one who has all the tools for making things, and they all 62 turn out looking as if they had been purchased at the local department store. Denney suggests that changes in the social cycle may not articulate with changes in the individual's life cycle, so that some forms of leisure activity become obsolete to him. Group manipulation of the individual's choice of play activity becomes an important factor in the transition from one form to another. Such categories lend a certain precision to the communica— tion of ideas about camping and campers. Furthermore, play concepts provide additional insights into, for example, how the rules of the game differentiate the sexes (there are roles for men and roles for women) and provide a means for maintaining intergenerational continuity of experience. Grandfather's style of life may be outmoded in the city, but the grandson may per- form a reasonable facsimile of it in the wilderness. Moral and Ethical Points of View About Leisure Many of the leisure writers seem to be primarily concerned with telling us how we "ought to" use (or spend) leisure time. Burchlg/ calls these members of the "polemicist" school. Brightbill (1961), de Grazia (1962), and Anderson (1961), among others, are put in this category. The main point of these Writers seems to be that leisure time can be used for good or evil, and, put in these terms, the choice is obvious. Even lg/ 0p. cit., Burch, 1964. 63 stripped of moral overtones, there is an imperative to use ' we are admonished to beware of leisure time "productively.' the "threat" of leisure by numerous writers for various reasons while, at the same time, we relate more leisure time with the "good life." One early 20th—century leisure analyst in the United States (Cutton, 1926) reflects the traditional theme in later writings when he intones (p. 86), "While it is the most precious gift which the past century has bestowed upon us, it is also the most dangerous gift." Further (p. 87), "The proper use of leisure has created every civilization which has ever existed, the improper use has killed everyone in turn." Carrying this theme onward, Cutton states that leisure can result in both physical and mental degeneracy. Mbdern psychology, he says, offers the reasons why "Satan finds some mischief for idle hands to do." Hard work and restricted civilization forces "instinctive impulses" into secondary ex- pression, or sublimates them. "Morals are dependent upon sub- limation" with immorality following close on the heels of lack of repression. "It was thus that Rome fell; will not a similar course produce a similar effect in America?" (Cutton, 1926, p. 90). At the core of this dominant theme, however, is a notion termed by weber (1958) "the Protestant ethic." Max weber was a German economist, sociologist, historian, lawyer, and student of comparative religions who lived in the latter 19th and first 64 fifth of the 20th centuries. His famous essays "The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism" were first published to- gether in German as a book in 1904, which has since been pub- lished in translation frequently. weber's thesis was simply that Puritan ideas had influenced the development of capital- ism. This, in turn, propelled him into intellectual debate with the historical materialism notions of Marxism, and also led to widespread concentration of critics on the significance of the Protestant ethic to the rise of capitalism (Bendix, 1962). The paradox of this is that Weber himself stated ex- plicitly that his purpose had not been to offer a rationale for capitalism. The hard core idea of the "spirit of capitalism," as weber saw it, was that hard work was a virtue and, hence, a moral ob- ligation. He found it plausible, for several reasons, to look for its origin in the religious ideas of the Reformation. The ascetic tendencies found in the theological doctrines of Calvinism were particularly relevant. As Bendix (1962, p. 60) expresses it, quoting in part from "The Protestant Ethic...": Calvin had taught that one must find solace solely on the basis of true faith. Each man was duty—bound to consider himself chosen and to reject all doubt as a temptation of the devil, for a lack of self-confidence Was interpreted as a sign of insufficient faith. To attain that self—confidence, unceasing work in a calling was recommended. By his unceasing activity in the service of God, the believer strengthened his self- Confidence as the active tool of the divine will. This idea implied a tremendous tension: Calvinism had eliminated all magical means of attaining salvation. In the absence of such means the believer "...could not 65 hope to atone for hours of weakness or of thoughtless- ness by increased good will at other times.... There was no place for the very human Catholic cycle of sin, repentance, atonement, release, followed by renewed sin.... The moral conduct of the average man was thus deprived of its planless and unsystematic character.... Only a life guided by constant thought could achieve conquest over the state of nature. It was this ration- alization which gave the Reformed faith its peculiar ascetic tendency...." And it was this ascetic tendency that explained the affinity between Calvinism and the "spirit of capitalism." This exhortation to doing, found also in the pastoral communi- cations of the interpreters of Calvinism, lead to paradoxical consequences for as John Wesley is reported to have said (Bendix, 1962, pp. 65-66): ...I fear, wherever riches have increased, the essence of religion has decreased in the same proportion. .. For religion must necessarily produce both industry and frugality, and these cannot but produce riches. But as riches increase, so will pride, anger, and love of the world in all its branches. weber observed the affinity of the new capitalist spirit (as opposed to the "traditional" speculative mercantilism) for the ethos of work frequently in real life, and it is easy to interpret similar ethical entreaties in the writings of those Who concern themselves with the utilitarian objectives of leisure time activities. Furthermore, who among us has not felt a twinge of Puritanical guilt when engaged in recreational activities from time to time? It is, therefore, not surprising that many should embrace the therapeutic-benefit rationale of Wilderness recreation, for it offers a happy combination of Utilitarian and "pleasure" objectives. Sutherland (1957) tends to refute the therapeutic application of recreation as a 66 patent remedy for individual and social ills; although he would seem to agree with Martha Wblfenstein (1958) that our culture is beginning to supplant "goodness morality" with "fun morality." Recreation as therapy in a program of therapy for certain kinds of persons or patients can, nevertheless, be employed judicially in many instances (Rensvold, Hill, Boggs, and Meyer, 1957). Time Budget Measures The attempt to define leisure suggests the problem of identifying and measuring units of leisure time. Perhaps it is customary to divide the "average work day" into three equal parts: 8 hours for "work," 8 hours for rest or sleep, and 8 hours for "other" including leisure. Oddly, and in spite of the obvious and more subtle complexities of just what leisure time is and when it occurs, this trichotomous concept provides an apparently good, though conservative, rule of thumb for estimating total leisure timeli/ in the United States at the present time. Assuming a present population of 190 million 13ersons in the United States, 365 days a year, and an average <>f 8 hours a day for "other" time, most of which is leisure, yields an estimate of 554.8 billion hours a year. This seems tc> be close to the trend estimate of Mary Holman as presented by' Clawson (1964). This recent total time budget estimate for the: United States is presented in table 2. lé/ Defined by Clawson (1964) as "...all time beyond the existence and subsistence time." Existence time is that required to do the things we must to maintain life, including sleeping, eating, and personal hygiene. Subsistence time is that invested in Jobs or employment which yields the wherewithal to obtain eXistence, and "other," items. 67 Table 2.~-National time budget estimates and time division of leisgre, 1900, 1950, a'nfd 20001/ Use of time Total time, entire population Sleep Wbrk School Housekeeping Preschool population, nonsleeping hours Personal care Subtotal Remaining hours, largely leisure Daily leisure Weekend leisure Va cation Re tired Other, including unaccounted Year 1900 17 1950 I? 2000 - Billions of hours a year - 667 1,329 2,907 265 514 1,131 86 132 206 11 32 90 61 68 93 30 56 110 37 74 164 490 876 1,794 177 453 11113 72 189 375 50 179 483 17 35 182 6 24 56 32 26 17 lj Source: Clawson (1964), p. 10. 68 It is more than interesting to compare this rule of thumb to empirical work done in the early 1930's by Lundberg, Komarovsky, Mirra, and McInerny (1958). They collected diary- type accounts of time expenditures of 2,460 residents of Westchester County, New York, covering a period of from 1 to 7 days. At that time, and for the observed sample, the average number of leisure hours a day for all occupation groups was 7.4. "Nonleisure" activities in that study included sleep, paid work, care of household and children, care of self, trans- portation, and other items, which were instrumental or inci- dental to the other activities rather than ends in themselves. Again, it is well to keep in mind that what is measured as leisure depends upon what is defined as leisure. The above estimates are perhaps the broadest kind of estimate. Much smaller estimates of "true" or "free choice" leisure times are suggested by de Grazia (1962), Lobsenz (1962), and MacIver (1958). It is becoming a popular pastime to point to the numerous "other directed" activities into which we are led during nonworking hours by mass media, status seeking, etc., which are only illusively detractive, and which lose the element 0f free choice, which is supposed to characterize the "true" leisure. More important for visualizing "demand" for particular kinds of leisure-time activities and places than total leisure estimates are characterizations of who has how much, and how it 18 distributed throughout the day, week, month, year, and life 69 cycle itself. For example, "retired leisure" seems to be the most rapidly increasing kind of leisure (Clawson, 1964), suggesting a need to review the kinds of opportunities for rec- reation required or wanted by older people. Cybernation produces some shifts in leisure patterns that have not been fully explored, such as an increase in managerial working hours, moonlighting, efforts to further on-the-job progress, or an outlet for creativity for those whose jobs are noncreative (Michael, 1963). Three-day weekends may shift the distance perspective of the family campers. Increased length of the annual vacation might also tend to shift the distance perspec- tive of the traveler and even to suggest a change in kind of excursion. Differential leisure time adjustments among the various occupation-education groups can also influence the direction of investment of leisure time. In short, quantifi- cation of these kinds of relationships seems more fruitful than the attempt to provide better estimates of total leisure time. In spite of all that has been written and said about leisure time and working time, about the most concrete state- ment that can be made is that working hours per employee, on an average annual basis, have and presumably will continue to decline throughout the 20th century. Denison (1962) has com- piled historical employment data and projections for the United States and some of these are shown in table 3. Table 3.-—Em lo 70 ent index and avera e annual workin hours for the United States selected ears and ro'ections to 1980 Average annual hours per employee Em lo ent Year EndZ: Potentiall/ 11j1. Actual (1929 = 100) -------- Hours -------- 1910 75.0 2,700 2,705 1920 87.2 2,630 2,584 1930 95.4 2,518 2,477 1940 104.9 2,286 2,277 1950 127.1 2,138 2,131 1958 140.3 2,060 2,057 1960;/ 149.5 2,039 2,039 19652/ 161.4 1,988 1,988 19703/ 176.0 1,936 1,936 19752/ 191.5 1,885 1,885 19802/ 208.8 1,833 1,833 1! "Potential" hours is a smoothed series of data intended to measure normal or standard hours. effect of business fluctuations and wars on actual hours worked. 2/ Source: "High" employment projections. Denison (1962), p. 37. It eliminates the temporary 71 Running somewhat counter to this trend is the apparently increasing number and rate of multiple jobholders in the United States. In December 1960 there were recorded 3,012,000 persons with two or more jobs for a rateli/ of multiple job- holding of 4.6 percent. In May of 1962 comparable figures were 3,342,000 and 4.9 percent (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1963). Although this is weak evidence of the ambiguity of leisure time as a reciprocal of work time, it is suggestive enough to urge caution in interpretations of declining average annual work hours per employee. Quantifying Wilderness Recreation In spite of a surprisingly long history of concern with wilderness recreation as a kind of leisure time use, we have not yet been able to consistently and accurately measure "wil— derness use" in terms of numbers of people visiting wilderness or their length of stay. Research is currently underway at the Pacific Northwest Forest and Range Experiment Station, U.S. Forest Service, in Portland, Oregon, to test unmanned registra- tion stations as an efficient means of obtaining this kind of Ineasure of use. Estimates of length of stay of visitors have jpeerhaps been biased by the procedures used by administering aégencies; and the early attempts to sample visitors and length lfl/ Computed by the Bureau of Labor Statistics as a percent of all employed persons in industry by class of worker and group. 72 of stay have apparently not adequately accounted for the effect of the greater probability of being counted of the longer-staying visitor.l§/ Other reasons may also be cited for the difficulty en- countered in obtaining reliable use data. One of these is the simple administrative problem of maintaining contact with the users of these extensive, remote, multiple-access areas. Even when registration devices are provided, not all users register; although nonregistrants can be accounted for over time by proper calibration of the registration station. Furthermore, some wilderness units lie on two or more adjacent administrative areas, thus resulting in some double counting when registration stations are not used. Finally, it has been discovered that adding together wilderness use data from certain different administrative units, e.g., National Park and National Forest Wilderness Areas, masks some important differences. National Park wilderness users, for example, tend to be 1-day hikers, whereas National Forest wilderness users tend to be overnight campers (Univ. Calif. Wildland Research Center, 1962).l§/ In spite of these problems, it is instructive for the broad perspective it provides to glance briefly at some of the use 12! Lucas (1964b) reports this in evaluating use records for the Boundary waters Canoe Area, and this has been further substantiated by research in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area. $9/ The accuracy of this observation is open to question. Users of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area and Mountain Lakes Wild Area in Oregon tend strongly to be l-day hikers. Length of Stay is more reasonably a function of area attributes rather than administrative agency. 73 data, which have been compiled. Table 4 shows briefly the relative magnitude of use of Wilderness Areas on the National Forests of the United States in 1963. In that year, wilderness use accounted for 0.76 percent of all recreation visits on the National Forests. In terms of visitor-days this relative use increased to 2.18 percent, reflecting the overnight camping character of much of this use. In 1946 only 144,000 visits were recorded,ll/ thus suggesting a 551-percent increase in this kind of use by 1963. In comparison, total recreation visits recorded for the National Forests in 1946 were 18,240,677l§/ for a suggested 572-percent increase by 1963. Hence, it may be surmised that wilderness use has grown nationwide about as rapidly as general National Forest recrea- tion use over this 17-year period. The Forest Service has also attempted to categorize number of visits according to purpose of Visit, using informal contacts with visitors by field personnel. Table 5 summarizes this information for 1963 and reveals additional problems in characterizing and quantifying wilderness use. Table 4 has already shown that Wilderness Area use accounted for 937,000 visits in 1963. Assuming that the 460,000 "wilderness travel" visits took place in classified wilderness-type areas leaves a lZ/ U.S. Forest Service. Number of visits to the National Forests for utilization of the recreation resources, calendar year 1924 to present. Wash., D.C. 3 pp. (No date: circa, 1960). l§j Loc. cit. 74 Table 4.--Nationa1 Forest recreation use, U.S., 1963 Kind of area Number Share of . Number Share of Visits total ViSitor-days total Thousands Percent Thousands Percent Campgrounds 13,562 11.06 31,328 24.76 Picnic sites 21,575 17.60 11,862 9.38 Winter sports sites 6,678 5.45 5,279 4.17 Organization camps: Forest Service owned 78 0.07 333 0.27 Other ownership 964 0.79 3,920 3.10 Hotels or resorts: Forest Service owned 1,078 0.88 467 0.37 Other ownership 3,838 3.13 4,074 3.22 5 Recreation residences 1,348 1.10 6,230 4.92 Wilderness Areas 937 0.76 2,752 2.18 Other forest areas 72,523 59.16 60,257 47.63 Total 122,581 100.00 126,502 100.00 ‘ Source: U.S. Forest Service (1964). 75 Table 5.--Primary pugpose of recreation visits to the National Forests, U.S., 1963 Primary purpose Visits 822::10f MW Camping 9,089 7.41 Picknicking 21,612 17.63 Swimming 3,536 2.88 Winter sports 5,456 4.45 Hunting 9,938 8.11 Fishing 18,151 14.81 Hiking and riding 2,921 2.38 Canoeing 1,650 1.35 Organization camping 990 0.81 Wilderness travel 460 0.38 General enjoyment and sightseeing 44,018 35.91 Gathering forest products for pleasure 1,159 0.94 Scientific study and hobbies 514 0.42 Other activities 3,087 2.52 Total 122,581 100.00 Source: U.S. Forest Service (1964). I I —. ‘- —_,-__—a—-'_—— 76 balance of 477,000 visits distributed throughout the remainder of the categories, all of which (except organization camping) may conceivably represent purposes of wilderness visitation. Forestry, the Forest Service and Multiple Use Certainly one of the most dramatic and colorful chapters in the formation of natural resources policy in the United States has been written around the genesis and development of forest policy. Although perhaps really born in flood control and multiple purpose river development efforts, the conservation movement has also been identified strongly with forestry. In view of Hays' (1959) characterization of these related movements as outgrowths of the attempts of politically powerful individuals to implement new technologies (or "science") and efficiency con- cepts in resource management, it becomes at least interesting to examine some highlights in this backdrop to see, if we can, how such a nonutilitarian or non-"progressive" idea as wilder- ness fits into the overall picture of forestry and natural resource management in the United States. Several authors, such as Ise (1920), Cameron (1928), Dana (1956). Hays (1959), Rodgers (1951), and McGeary (1960), have chronicled the life and times of early leaders in American forestry of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. While some observations are taken from these authors in what follows, the Point is not to repeat their details, but simply to establish a POint of view. 77 Fernow-Pinchot Forestry There seems to be a common caricature of forestry (and foresters), which is more or less traceable directly to the forestry concepts of the early progenitors of "scientific forestry" in the United States. This is called here Fernow- Pinchot forestry after the two principal foresters, as such, in the United States just before and after the turn of the present century. This common caricature of the forester as the "sylvan forester," "timber beast," or tree forester seems to color the complaints of many outdoor recreationists. This kind of forester, it is argued, has little sympathy for or proficiency in outdoor recreation matters. This kind of complaint fits into the ongoing effort to define the role of forester which seems to have moved from tree and forest management to land management, although it is still strongly associated with forest land management. To a large degree, this shift in the perception of the role of forester seems to , 1 1 “ be the result of a change in administrative responsibilities of professionally trained foresters in public agencies, such as the U.S. Forest Service. It is something of a tribute to both Fernow and Pinchot that this common caricature lives on; yet it seems greatly un— fair to new members of the profession who are sympathetic with the diverse claims of diverse users of public (and private) - — -.—-——'—n w forest lands. These newer members appear caught in a transi- tional stage of professional development characterized by 78 changes in training and technology which lag behind changes in consumer demand and attitudes. Briefly, both Fernow and Pinchot attempted to infuse European forestry principles into American forestry conditions. Fernow was particularly concerned with silviculture and whole forest management, although he gave official sanction to Sudworth's pioneering dendrological investigations and Roth's timber physics research. He was also instrumental in establish— ing our first National Forest legislation for setting aside forest reserves; but his interest seemed mainly a concession to an annoying necessity to maintain a National Forest base upon which to practice forest management. Aside from his bent toward silviculture, Fernow was also interested in the "practi- cal" and economic aspects of implementing the kind of timber forestry he was trained for on a national basis in the United States. He was undoubtedly the most eminently qualified forester in the Nation to assume the head of the Division of Forestry in the Department of Agriculture in 1886; and when he left that position in 1898 to begin his career in forestry education, he left to his successor, Pinchot, in his own Words, a "well plowed field" for "effective sowing" of scientific forestry in the United States (Fernow, 1911). Gifford Pinchot, America’s first homegrown (though European educated) forester, was also well qualified for the job of Chief Forester of the United States. He, too, felt that the economic attractiveness of forest practices would have to be emphasized to make forestry Viable in America. He may be distinguished 79 from his predecessor Fernow, hOWever, by his deep concern for the political setting and consequences of American forestry. He observed early in his public forestry career that he would have to steer a course somewhere between the "denudatics" and the lumbermen (Pinchot, 1947). Although McGeary (1960) claims that Pinchot could never be a complete politician because of an inability to compromise, he was willing to accept the poli- tical support (and to incur the political displeasure of support- ers as in the later Hetch Hetchy controversy) of extra-forestry groups when it suited his purposes. He early joined the band- wagon for multiple purpose river development and flood control, stressing the technical relationships between forests and water flows. Alliances with such water "conservationists" as Chief Hydrographer Newell and WJ McGee bore fruit in his struggle to obtain transfer of the Nation’s forest reserves to the Department of Agriculture from the Department of the Interior. Furthermore, after enlisting the support of the "preservationist" or outdoor recreation groups in his battles against timber depletion, he was willing to alienate some of them, such as the Boone and Crockett Club, in order to prevent such senti- ments from going so far as to "preserve" large tracts of public forests for game breeding grounds and esthetic monuments. This Was done in order to preserve the favor of western interests, Principally irrigators and stockmen, who would support the reServes if they were open to commercial uses. 80 In retrospect, Fernow—Pinchot forestry can be caricaturized as a deliberate application of rational, scientific forestry from a utilitarian or commodity point of view. It grew naturally, as it were, out of the European forestry training of dominant individuals and also out of a fear for an apparent diminution and economic scarcity through exploitive harvest of a valuable natural resource (Barnett and Morse, 1962). It colored the early growth of a public forestry policy and formed the basis for technical forestry education in this country. In these respects it is not a likely forbearer of wilderness preservation. Nevertheless, in two important respects, it seems, it served to foster an attitude in the collective public mind and in the collective concepts of public land managers that tolerated wilderness preservation. On the one hand, the conser- vation movement itself was buoyed up in part by the rhetoric of outdoor recreation groups, and the leaders of the forestry effort required the impetus generated by this movement to further their own ends. On the other hand, the outdoor recreation groups eventually came to the realization that forest reserva- tions did not mean, to Pinchot at least, preserves. Hence, they were stimulated to develop their own organizational impetus aPart from the general melange of alliances that constituted the conservation movement. As Hays (1959) suggests, Pinchot (and American forestry) was responsible, in large measure, for bOth the coalition and schism which characterized the rise and 81 decline of the "First American Conservation Movement" at the turn of the present century. Conservation and All That Gifford Pinchot (1947) takes credit (and assigns some of it to his close associates) for coining the name "conservation" for the natural resources planning movement instituted in the Federal Government under President Theodore Roosevelt. The ' according to this view, was based partly word "conservation,' on the practice in British India of naming large organized areas of government forest land Conservancies. The implicit connotation of governmental control (and management) of this term was then to be added to the word "conservation" already in the dictionary. Pinchot gives particular credit to WU McGee for grasping the meaning of the term. E pluribus unum was to become the "fundamental fact" in dealing with natural resources, as well as in political affairs. Significantly, Pinchot also credits McGee with being the scientific brains behind the new conservation movement and with defining the new Policy which accompanied it as "the use of the natural resources for the greatest good of the greatest number for the longest time." The key role of McGee, the American patriarch of multiple purpose river development, as a source of ideas for Pinchot is further developed by Cross (1953). It was not long after the first high tide of conservation enthusiasm washed over the land that analysts began to try to make something of it. After some reflection, Ise (1921, p. 373) remarked: 82 In further extenuation of the western attitude to- ward conservation, it must be granted that conservation has been something of a fad and a hobby with some of its advocates. Pinchot once stated that one of the beauties of "conservation" was that no one could say he was opposed to it. As President Taft once said: "The subject of conservation is rather abstruse, but there are a great many people in favor of conservation, no matter what it means." Later, Hays (1959, pp. 122-123) summed up the dominant image of conservation at about its peak and coincidence with the 1908 Conference of Governors: By the time of the great crusade, the threads of resource policy had become interwoven in a single co- herent approach: the use of "foresight and restraint in the exploitation of the physical sources of wealth as necessary for the perpetuity of civilization, and the welfare of present and future generations." This, in 1908, was conservation, a concept which formerly had referred to reservoir storage of flood waters and con- trolled grazing on the western range, but had now come to denote efficiency in the development and use of all resources.... Indeed, for many the term implied the need for efficiency in social and moral affairs as well as in economic life. Like Theodore Roosevelt, they looked upon conservation as a major step in the progress of civilization; it would bring conscious fore- sight and intelligence into the direction of all human affairs. Even though conservation was soon attached to campaigns for the conservation of civic beauty, health, manhood, and hUman rights in addition to natural resources (Hays, 1959), it seems that Barnett and Morse (1963, p. 93), through the Perspective of history, have concretely characterized conserva- tion as being a particular manifestation of concern with reSource scarcity. They write that "one is tempted to conclude that the Conservation Mbvement adopted parts of the classical economic view of scarcity, and grafted onto it the ecological 83 concepts of Marsh and the revolutionary advances in their contemporary natural sciences." This viewpoint is eloquently stated in an article entitled "The Conservation Ethic," and elsewhere, by the elder statesman for wilderness, Aldo Leopold (1933). He argued that an extension of ethics to land was "actually a process in ecological evolu- tion." He distinguished between biological ethics which referred to the limitation of freedom of action in the struggle for survival and philosophical ethics referring to the differentia— tion of social and antisocial conduct. The conservation move- ment was regarded as the "embryo" of affirmation of the extension of ethics to our relationships with land. The "real end" of conservation, he claimed, "is a universal symbiosis with land, economic and esthetic, public and private." His proclamation was tied to a rationale based upon his reading of history which "revealed" that past human occupancies of land caused land to "react" and determine the nature and duration of civilization. Hence, a land or conservation ethic was required to promote the Stability of mansland ecosystems. It requires no stretch of the imagination to relate this ecological strain of conservation t0 the philosophical naturalism embodied in exhortations to maintain harmony with "mother" nature. Many more antecedent ideas, which were fruitfully employed by others in later--and prowilderness-conservation writings, can be cited. One final one will be presented here. This is What Barnett and Morse (1963, p. 69) refer to as John Stuart 84 Mill's extension of the concept of resource scarcity to living space. They quote Mill from his "Principles of Political Economy" as follows: A population may be too crowded, though all shall be amply supplied with food and raiment. It is not good for man to be kept perforce at all times in the presence of his species. A world from which solitude is extir- pated is a very poor ideal. Solitude, in the sense of being often alone, is essential to any depth of medita- tion or of character; and solitude, in the presence of natural beauty and grandeur, is the cradle of thoughts and aspirations which are not only good for the indi- vidual, but which society could ill do without. Nor is there much satisfaction in contemplating the world with nothing left to the spontaneous activity of nature; with every rood of land brought into cultivation, which is capable of growing food for human beings; every flowery waste or natural pasture ploughed up, all quadrupeds or birds which are not domesticated for man‘s use exterminated as his rivals for food, every hedge— row or superfluous tree rooted out, and scarcely a place left where a wild shrub or flower could grow without being eradicated as a weed in the name of im— proved agriculture. A decade or so after what Hays (1959) refers to as the schism and decline of the First Conservation Movement, and Coincident with the "Great Depression" and "Dust Bowl" days of the 1930's, a new surge of interest in "conservation" developed. It was during this period that broad analytical frameworks for eValuating land use alternatives and "conservation" practices began to emerge. It can also be observed that this development renewed the concern with the relative emphasis that ought to be SiVen to public conservation programs. This gave rise to part Of What Hays (1958) calls the "mythology of conservation"; in this case it meant the contrasting of "public" and "private" interests where "public" is equated with good, moral conserva~ tion and commercial development was a private goodness. The 85 attitude pervading this dichotomous distinction led to a will- ingness to juggle the symbols of moral rightness, so that the conflict between preservation and development was made to be a conflict between public good and private greed, rather than between two public goods. In forestry, Rutledge (1933) echoed the sentiments of the many who felt that public ownership (and public conservation) of the Nation's forests was necessary to maintain the forest base and its attendant social consequences. He cited Richard T. Ely's statement in his 1889 "Introduction to Political Economy" that "The state (used in its generic sense) is the cornerstone of wise conservation policies; a very sine gua non." An ex- tension of Ely’s rationale was that there were "sharp limits" to the economic sacrifices that we could ask individuals to make for conservation. Hence, society as a whole, through Government action, must shoulder the burden. Although Ise (1925) had earlier applied a particularized point of view of economics and value theory to natural resource management (arguing for high prices of commodities produced from easily exhaustible natural resources to keep consumption down), it was not until the advent of world war II and thereafter that an identifiable body of natural resource economics litera- tUre was apparent. Natural resource economics seems to be a direct outgrowth of this latter-day concern for conservation. Perhaps the earliest comprehensive work in this area is by Bunce (1940 and 1942). His work carried on the debate over public and private relative shares in conservation practices, but it 86 did attempt to provide a point of departure for rigorous analysis in this context. Bunce argued particularly strongly against differential time preference rates as bases for differences between social and private actions in conservation. There were, he suggested, three, more relevant, reasons for social action: 1. When it would be economic for the individual entrepreneur to conserve, but he does not; 2. When conservation is not economic for the individual, but is economic for society; 3. When intangible ends desired by the majority of in- dividuals in a democracy can be attained only by collective action. By far the single major American work in this area is that by S. V. Ciriacy-Wantrup (1963). The analytical frameworks, tools, language, etc. in natural resource or resource economics that have devolved from this work and from that by numerous others will be touched upon more fully below. Nevertheless, Ciriacy-Wantrup's clear statement and summary of an analytical Position with respect to conservation can be given here: ...the concept "conservation" is tied...to a particular aspect of use: its intertemporal distribution. Conser— vation is concerned with the whgg of use. More specifically, "conservation" and its logical corollary but economic opposite, "depletion," are de- fined in terms of changes in the intertemporal distribu- tion of use. In conservation, the redistribution of use is in the direction of the future; in depletion, in the direction of the present. (p. 51) 87 In retrospect it seems that conservation has come to be characterized by two distinctive aspects like two sides of a coin: (l) "efficient" natural resource development leading in turn to a doctrinal center of gravity for analysis in resource economics, and (2) protection and preservation of the qualita— tive yield of resources, partly out of fear of the inadequacy of economic optimizing for maintaining particular kinds of quality aspects, such as wilderness, and partly as a means of overcoming the uncertainties of the future. Thus it is that timbermen who wish to develop timber resources to satisfy national demands for wood products (in a profitable setting) may find themselves in heated debate with wilderness proponents who wish to preserve "the last few remaining tracts of real wilderness" for posterity. Both call themselves conservationists and each group has a legitimate historical ancestry in conservation ideology. One may quote but not rely heavily upon Galbraith's (1958, p. 92) definition of a conservationist as, "a man who concerns himself with the beauties of nature in roughly inverse proportion to the number of people who enjoy them." It seems more appropriate, however, to maintain Livermore's (1964) distinction between the I 'PrO-Servationist" and the preservationist. Recreation as an Evolving Pugpose of the Forest Reserves C- Frank Brockman (1959) provides an excellent thumbnail sketch of the history of concern, both within and outside of the Forest Service, with outdoor recreation on the National F°re3t3- Although some recreational use was made of the National 88 Forests earlier, it is convenient to look at the 15-year period from 1910 to 1925 as the basic formative period for a recreation policy on the National Forests. This is the period bridging the gap from Treadwell Cleveland's (1910) public pronouncement (as a Forest Service employee) of the great value of the National Forests for recreation to E. A. Sherman's (1925) outlining of a full-blown recreation policy for the National Forests. In certain respects, the history of the evolvement of our National Forest system can be read from our system of institu- tionalized wilderness and other recreation activity on the National Forests. To a degree, the classified wilderness-type areas are miniaturized National Forest reserves of the type which many supporters of the early forest reservation movement wanted for the entire forest reserve system. They are also Symbols of concession to a minority point of View. Furthermore, they reflect a broader and growing concern with positive manage— ment of the National Forests for recreation purposes in addition to timber, grazing, and other more utilitarian uses which seemed t0 figure prominently in the early period of the forest reserves. It can also be surmised that this early recognition of recrea- tion as a purpose of the National Forests was prompted, to an imPOrtant though unmeasurable degree, by some of the interagency rivalry between the Forest Service and Park Service which arose during the latter part of the decade before 1920. Improved high- Way access to and through the National Forests and an un- pr("Kniderlted number of motorized visitors also underscored the need for recognition of this use and planning to acconnnodate it. 89 In the 1908 "Report of the Forester" (Pinchot, p. 14), the following statement of National Forest purpose was made: The purposes of National Forest Administration by the Forest Service are (1) protection against fire and trespass; (2) the harvesting of timber when mature, under such limitations as the need of a reserve for future supplies of timber and the need of watershed protection impose; (3) the maintenance and betterment of a growing crop of timber; (4) the protection of the water supply; (5) utilization of the forage crop; (6) betterment of range conditions; and (7) equipment of the property with adequate means of communication and transportation and with necessary field quarters, in the interest of more effective protection and increased use. It is apparent, however, that the emphasis is still on tinmer. The 1913 "Report" of Chief Forester Graves is important becausse it mentions such uses as timber, water, wildlife, rec- reatxion, and grazing. It also states that the criteria for integrating these uses is the largest net total of benefit from jOiIIt use. By the 1919 "Report" of Graves, recreation had been giver1 a dominant, main-head place in the format of the report. ()ne of the most revealing statements (in terms of the present study) of this early period was provided, however, in the 1913 "Report" of Chief Forester Graves (p. 11): The fundamental aim in administering the National Forests is to develop their resources for the permanent uPbUilding of the country. The whole object of their administration would be defeated by closing the Forests to development and maintaining them as a wilderness. The ain1of administration is essentially different from that of a national park, in which economic use of mater— 1&1 resources comes second to the preservation of natural conditions on esthetic grounds. This statement was in turn bound up in the ongoing problems of land classification of the period facing the Forest Service and arising OUt of the Forest Homestead Act of 1906 (34 stat. 90 233), allowing entry to lands on the National Forests deemed primarily suitable for agriculture.lg/ In spite of the numerous instances of earlier fraud associated with entry of timberlands in the name of homesteading, homesteaders were considered valu- able occupants of the National Forests, particularly for the assistance they might be expected to render in case of forest fire. The 1923 "Report of the Forester" by Greeley (pp. 39-40) specifically raised the question of wilderness in the following manner: Special problems are constantly arising in connec— tion with the recreational and wild—life resources of the national forests. The American people are advanc— ing rapidly in appreciation of the great social value of forest spaces and their wild life. A plea is now Inade for the reservation of certain national forests, or parts of them, from the commercial use of timber and fk>rage, or even from customary forms of recreation, lijse public camp grounds, summer homes, and hotels—- iandeed, from the very building of roads which would nualce these areas accessible to considerable numbers of 'vissitors. What these people want is not parks but stxretches of untrammeled wilderness, deliberately re- selrved as such, which only a few of the more hardy and 'kalect" among the seekers of the out of doors can pelletrate, relying upon their unaided skill in wood— craft. This plea has been made particularly with reference to the Kaibab National Forest in Arizona and the Superior National Forest in Minnesota, or parts of then1. It expresses an admirable conception of the value of the forest frontier to the physical and social health.of the American people. It is a wholesome re- action from the multiplication of improved roads and automobiles. N 191 -£2/ The Agricultural Appropriations Act of August 10, 2 (37 stat. 269, 287), in recognition of fraudulent entry gessibilities, directed the Secretary of Agriculture to classi- tieiands as to their suitability for agriculture before listing . as aVailable for entry and homesteading. 91 The issue was raised explicitly again in the 1926 "Report" by Greeley. At this time, cautionary notes relating to the need for coordinating this kind of recreation and other National Forest uses were emphasized. Local community dependency was a principal factor to be weighed before any wilderness-type areas could be set aside. By 1927, Chief Forester Greeley could, in spite of "coor- dination problems" foreseen, report that the Forest Service was planning to keep "unnecessary roadbuilding" and "forms of special use of a commercial character which would impair their wilderness character" from approximately one—third to one-fourth of the entire National Forest system. These "roadless" areas were to become the basis upon which our present system of institutionalized wilderness is built. This report also pro- phesied that, As our population grows and land use becomes more intensive, there will be an increasingly felt need for wilderness areas where refreshment of body and spirit may be obtained in the surroundings of unspoiled nature, and where the choicest features of our great mountain regions may be enjoyed in all of their native beauty and grandeur. (p. 32) Although recreation was considered an example of a valuable service provided by the National Forests, Greeley’s 1925 "Report" (p. 14) established priorities of purpose as follows: The priorities followed in the use of funds and time to meet the growing and varied demands on the ForeSt Service illustrate the method of carrying out this general principle. Protection of the forests from fire and other destructive agencies holds first place, the production and use of timber second, and the Production and use of forage third. Other 92 activities, such as road and trail building, provision for recreation uses, and so on, where not essential for the protection or management of physical resources, are assigned a lower rating. In the instructions to forest officers establishing these priorities, however, latitude is necessarily given for meeting exceptional situations as reason and common sense may require. Thus, even though the Organic Act of 1897 (30 stat. ll, 34) specified that, ...no public forest reservation shall be established ex— cept to improve and protect the forest within the reser- vation for the purpose of securing favorable conditions of water flows, and to furnish a continuous supply of timber for the use and necessities of citizens of the United States, the: citizens of the United States quickly found new uses for the lands enclosed within the boundaries of these reservations. Recreation became the principal activity to expand the purpose of the National Forests. The Agricultural Appropriations Act of Mhy' 11, 1922 (42 stat. 507, 520) provided $10,000 for recreation faciJLity improvement on the National Forests. By fiscal year 1964, the specific appropriation for recreation management and facilfity improvement on the National Forests had climbed to nearlyr $25 million, second only to the appropriation for timber sales administration and management. National Forests and ..Their Administration HOW’and by whom decisions are made may be expected to be influenced by the institutional setting of decision making. In this case ’ a word must be said about Forest Service organization and the administration of the National Forests. 93 The genesis of the forest reserves, the Forest Service, the National Forest system and American forest policy have been chronicled in detail by Fernow (1911), Ise (1920), Cameron (1928), Smith (1930), Pinchot (1947), and Dana (1956). A relatively recent study by Kaufman (1960) has attempted to explain why the Forest Service operates as effectively as it does. Furthermore, the Forest Service Manual is especially explicit about the organizational policies, programs, and adnnnistrative mechanisms of the Forest Service, so that there is a rather complete picture of this aspect of the institu- tional framework for institutionalized wilderness. Some of the relevant highlights of this institutional setting, drawn out of the above sources, seem to be: 1. The farflung nature of the National Forest system and the related policy of decentralization. 2. The line and functional staff organization and allo— cation of responsibility in the Service. Career stability and esprit de cogps. 4. Professional homogeneity of attitude toward and field consistency in performance of assigned tasks. By the time of the transfer of the forest reserves to the Department of Agriculture in 1905, the administrative problem 0f maintaining long-distance control over the reserves in the WeSt fron1 washington, D.C., was already apparent. It was not until 1908, however, that Pinchot was able to solidify the pOSitiOh of the Forest Service (officially named as such in 94 the Agricultural Appropriation Act for 1906, 33 stat. 861, 872-873) and the National Forests (named as such by the Act of March 4, 1907, 34 stat. 1256, 1269) and build up the staff sufficiently to initiate the decentralized organization that has traditionally characterized Forest Service administration. The reason, expressed by numerous Forest Service officials after Pinchot, was simply the felt need to bring administration of the National Forests closer to the forests themselves and eliminate delays caused by long-distance controls. Pinchot (1909, p. 15) set the tone by stating: The arts of forest and range management are still in a formative period and can not be embodied in strict rules of procedure or handled by precedent. The per— sonal skill and initiative of local forest officers are constantly in demand, and Forest Service management Inust give these qualities all possible encouragement. A later "Report" by Greeley (1925) provides a more complmete and characteristic rationalization of Forest Service admiriistration. First, it must be accepted that the National Foresizs serve a variety of uses in their role as a public Pr0pea:ty. Because of the diversity of uses and points of view 0f users, which yield considerable uncertainty as to their ability to work together for the maximum benefit over all uses, the forests are managed by the Federal Government. The management seeks to correlate these uses to the end of maxi- nmm total public benefit. Furthermore, although the Federal Government acts as an overall arbiter of all uses of this PUblic Pr0perty, most of the problems in use coordination are local problems-—i.e., occasioned by local users. Hence, to 95 provide maximum flexibility, speed and responsiveness in meeting the local problems, this national organization is decentralized in administration. This decentralization and the lack of suitable technical correlating devices require that the correlating be accomplished by the judgment and discretion of the relevant local administrator. Wilderness land allocation decision making reflects this decentralization and reasons therefor in two respects. One is that local administrators are free to suggest areas for classifi— cation. Another is that wilderness characteristics appear llighly correlated with local conditions (i.e., wilderness re— flects local relativeness). At the same time, a counteracting trend seems apparent. Commnunications and transportation have improved to the point thzrt faraway officials are really as near as the telephone or aiJ:strip. Furthermore, wilderness is becoming recognized more and Imore as a national problem, and decision making both within and (outside the Forest Service has been escalating rapidly to regional and national levels. Figures 11, 12, and 13 depict the general line and functional staff organization of the Forest Service. Each line official is Personally responsible for his own organization's actions. Official policy for utilizing this line officer organization, according to section 1202 of the Forest Service Manual, is: "Delegate maximum responsibility to subordinate line officers conSistent with laws, Executive orders, and Departmental regu— lations . ll 96 mmwwzHmm umouomnn.HH ounwfim mama/awn. 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As in most multiple responsibility organizations, it is necessary for the principal line officers to utilize staffs of specialists in each functional area of responsibility. Although a Regional Forester, for example, cannot relieve himself of responsibility for his organization's actions, he can delegate responsibility to act in each of the staff functions to others. Thus, although staff specialists advise both their immediate superiors and successively lower orders of line officers, they may also act for their superior and transmit downward certain action instructions or guidelines. When it is apparent, as it often is, to lower orders of responsibility that the relevant staff officer has the full confidence of the higher order line officer, staff recommendations often become de facto orders. Figure 14 shows the functional staff organization of the Regional Office of the Pacific Northwest Region of the Forest Service. Figure 15 shows the line and staff organization relationships between the Region 6 Regional Office, the 19 National Forests in the Region and their 110 Ranger Districts. Figures 16 and 17, in turn, show sample organizational charts for the National Forests and Ranger Districts in Region 6. Wilderness decision making in this Northwest Region of the Forest Service may originate with a joint effort by a Particular Ranger, whose District encloses a likely wilderness- tYPe area, and the recreation staff officer of the National Forest. With the approval of the Forest Supervisor, a proposal f°r a classified area may be made. 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Q01“ ”10....(925210U ” _ _ _ ’ . _ . 2 . . m 0 A _ u h l _ h . mde_u7uam Aaul.¢1m Mun: 01.3 FZmImmZISA I. (141 A unfuw ..(QOZEL .wzamMIJuIm . {slut wwzvd warm _ dmmZC. Wmm2_w3m . . _ . . . «Om.7~.ma3m anaom 103 DISTRICT RANGER T\MBER OTHER FIRE. BUSWE SS ENGNEF'Z'NG MANAGEMENT RESOURCES CONTROL MANAGE NENT ‘55 T- Ass'T; ASST. ASS'T. ASST Figure l7.--Sample organization chart for Region 6 Ranger Districts. 104 the Regional Forester, who in turn has delegated review of such matters to a staff officer. In Region 6, the principal staff officer in the Regional Office to review such proposals is in charge of that section of the Division of Recreation entitled "Special Area Studies-~Dedicated Areas." After subsequent study and review, a final report may be submitted by the forest to the Regional Forester and, in turn, transmitted to the Chief of the Forest Service for his review and recommendations. Kaufman (1960) stresses the processes which interact to develop the "will and capacity to conform" of perhaps the key man--at least the on—the-ground-man—-in the organization, the District Ranger. The career stability provided by the Federal Civil Service for its employees helps secure organizational stability as well. Transfers from place to place within the Service also help to cement loyalty to the Forest Service. Younger men in the ranks, particularly, are subject to fre- quent transfer and the Service becomes a source of permanence. This is, in turn, aided by a systematic promotion system for those in professional grades within the Service. There is a distinct "fraternal aura," as Kaufman calls it, which develops around the Service and which is particularly impressive to new members of the organization. A number of symbols carry forward this fraternalism, including the Forest Service uniform and badge, the green color of forest vehicles and the insignia thereon, the relatively rustic ranger stations themselves, etc. Beyond these aspects is the professional kinship that seems t0 blossom among foresters. Forester training, at least at the 105 undergraduate level, is quite similar at forestry schools through- out the Nation. Furthermore, forestry seems to attract a particular kind of person as student, one who is distinctly "outdoorsy" even though not romantically inclined in this direction. This, of course, is a bald generalization that does not fit all foresters, though there are probably very few who do not allow themselves to be associated with "outdoorsy" notions. Multiple Use Forestry There is no question that the U.S. Forest Service is the principal standard bearer for a particular articulation of public forestry policy: multiple use. There is considerable good-natured, some cynical and more serious, discussion of just what multiple use really means. Trying to define it is a good deal like trying to define conservation-~or wilderness. It has become, like conservation, imbued with a moral and social impera- tive. Like conservation, however, it must be given particular interpretations in order to develop points of departure for rigorous analysis and management planning. It becomes particu- larly important to establish some point of view about multiple use forestry, since it is within the land management philosophy of multiple use that wilderness land allocation decision making rests; and it is because of this alliance, accidental though it may be, of "single use" wilderness and multiple use forestry that many question both concepts. Since the 1960 Fifth Wbrld Forestry Congress, held in Seattle and the first such congress to be held in North America, mu1tiPle use has achieved at least sloganesque stature as a 106 philosophy of forest land management abroad. Curiously enough, there are apparently few foreign words or phrases which are exactly equivalent to "multiple use"; hence, it is usually used in foreign writings as a phrase or term in its English form. The nearest German phrase, for example, seems to be thlfahrtswirkungen des Waldes,29/ which, loosely translated, implies welfare production or social productivity of the forests. A recent Russian article by Scerbakov (1963) reflects the sense of this German term by discussing the principles and problems in planning timber felling in multiple use forests, especially where there is a need for providing year—round employ- ment. Westoby (1962), however, seems to reflect the traditional attitude of foreign foresters, in the multiple use sense, by emphasizing the distinction between the wood productivity of forests and the "noncrop utilities" or "forest influences" of the forests. There are roughly three classes of influences in this sense: 1. Direct influences.-~Mechanical effect or protective action of forests in such instances as avalanche pre— vention and protection and wind protection. —_——___ 29/ This was related to the author during personal conversations with Dr. Werner Kroth, forest economist at the Institut fur Forstpolitik in Munich, Germany. 107 2. Indirect influences.—-Physicochemical influences which modify the environment so as to affect soil moisture retention and the water cycle. 3. Psychophysiological influences.-—Those influences of perhaps more immediate apparency to man, such as rest and recreation areas, green belts, pure air (dust filter), etc. Canadian foresters seem to have concerned themselves with Inultiple use forestry per se for at least a decade or more. A series of five papers in 1952 by Cowan, Hanson, Lyons, Clarke, and Fellows was published in the Forestry Chronicle. These papers dealt explicitly with the multiple use aspects of timber, grazing, water, wildlife, and recreation on Canadian forest lands. Eleven years later, a series of 12 articles on the same general subject was published in the Forestry Chronicle.2i/ Of some interest is the fact that "multiple use" was rarely used in these articles. Rather, a conscious effort seemed apparent to substitute therefor such terms as "balanced use" and "mul— tiple purpose use." This is similar to the conscious effort on the part of some agricultural economists in the United States Who are concerned with multiple-use-type problems to substitute the term "inter-use" for "multiple use" to describe the problem type. M 1 21!" All of these articles are cited separately in the iSt 0f Literature Cited" at the back of this report. 108 ’ It is the author's contention that the sense and spirit of multiple use in American forestry is a rather unique blend- ' ing of the entire American experience with conservation and public forestry. It is in this respect a function of time, circumstance, and personalities. Systematic American forestry wws born late and grew fast. Early leaders of forestry re— quired the support of numerous factions that made up the early conservation movement to support a public forest reserve system, national in extent, upon which systematic forest practices could be applied and controlled. This soon led to an acceptance of the idea of permitting, within limits, all conceivable uses of the National Forest lands. A broad "public" viewpoint was thereby established. Since these early days of acceptance of this broad purpose for the National Forests, increasing use of this relatively static land base has increased the need for determining just how best (or in ’ what proportions) these alternative uses (where they are truly alternative and competing) may be accommodated. While some may disagree, the uniquely American aspect of this de- velopment seems to be (for several reasons) a reluctance to stress absolutely the primacy of wood production from forest lands. we tend to emphasize much more strongly than our foreign counterparts the other "influences" or "noncrop Utilities" of the forests. And during the course of this POint-of-view develoPment, a name was coined, for better or for worse, to identify this kind of policy. It is important 109 to recognize at the outset that multiple use is a name and reflects a philosophy of land management; but, like conserva- l tion again, it is not an objective, operational concept. It must be interpreted. The exact family tree of the term "multiple use" is difficult to trace, although it seems plausible to root it L in the ideas of multiple purpose waterways and other resource development as expressed by Gifford Pinchot's close friend and confidant, WU MbGee (1909a and 1909b). The annual "Reports” ’ of the head of the Forest Service throughout the first three ! decades of the Service reflect increasing emphasis upon all of the major uses of the National Forests. The first use of the term "multiple use" applied to forest land management, however, seems to have occurred in the "Report v-_—~——.‘ ,. l of the Forester" (Stuart, 1933). In discussing the need for 1 , planned, rationally-coordinated land use development, for the vi Nation as a whole, Stuart (p. l) cited the experience with Planning on the National Forests: "...it is through demonstra— tion of the workability of the principle of multiple use that the national-forest experiment has perhaps had its greatest value." Silcox (1934) repeated the use of the term in the suCCeed- ing "Report 0f the Forester" and stressed it as a characteristic that distinguished the National Forests from the National Parks. Also of significance in this "Report" by Silcox is the discussion °f Primitive Areas, below, which establishes the traditional w.- u'—‘- 110 Forest Service viewpoint that wilderness-type areas on the National Forests do not contradict the idea of multiple use management: The primitive areas, of which there are now 68, with an aggregate area of over 10 million acres, are illustrations of the harmonization of recreational use with other major purposes and objectives of na- tional—forest management. Within these areas all of the basic functions of national forests are carried to full fruition, but at the same time the unique inspirational quality created by the absence of roads, communities, industrial developments, and commercial occupancy is safeguarded and preserved for the en— joyment of the visiting public. (P. 30) It is evident that by 1935 multiple use had become firmly established as the byword of National Forest management. In a supplemental report by the Land Planning Committee of the National Resources Board (1935, p. 80), the "multiple use concept" was given as the guiding principle of National Forest management, and its "central aim should be to adjust one use to another so that the greatest net public benefit will result." A lengthy list of literature using the term multiple use from this point on can be compiledhgg/ N“ 22/ The following authors represent at least a partial chronological listing of those using the term "multiple use" in a forestry context. These authors are more fully cited in the "Literature Cited" for the convenience of the reader. :' Evans (1938) 7. Connaughton (1943) 3° CiriaCY‘WantI-‘up (1938) 8. Dana (1943a and 1943b) 4- Camerer (1940) 9. Jeffers (1943) 5‘ Neuberger (1940) 10. Pearson (1944) 6. Holdsworth (1941) 11. Renne (1947) ' Chapline (1943) 12. Saunderson (1947) . Wm- 111 The "Hearings" pursuant to the Multiple Use-~Sustained Yield Act of 1960 (74 stat. 215) are also important as a literature reference. Many more writings about, and using the term, multiple use in a forestry or land management context exist, of course. However, these references may be helpful to those who are trying to get a "feel" for the subject. For purposes of simplification, the author has attempted to segregate the viewpoints about multiple use forestry in six Inore or less identifiable classes. In 1940 Neuberger (p. 94) noted that, "in the lexicon of the Interior Department multiple use is defined as 'multiple use up.’ He also presented his own concept which we classify here as the "naive" concept: National forests, so expansive the west measures them by horizons rather than acres, are operated under a policy known as "multiple use." By this the Forest Service means that trees can be used for lumber, meadows for grazing, rivers for reclamation and power, and at the same time the wilderness is open for rec— reation. (p. 92) The naive concept, therefore, implies simple recognition of the existence of many uses on a forest property. ‘5 13. McArdle (1953, 1960) 24. Pack (1961) 14. Gregory (1955) 25. Stedman (1961) 15. Adams (1956) 26. Zivnuska (1961) 16. Richards (1958) 27. Foss (1962) 17. Bolle (1960) 28. Cliff (1962) 18. Carhart (1959) 29. Rahm (1962) 19. MhConnell (1959) 30. Shanklin (1962) 20. Clawson, Held and 31. Barlowe (1963) 21 Stoddard (1960) 32. Black (1963) 2 ~ Stagner (1960) 33. Penfold (1963) 2. McCloskey (1961) 34. Sears and Hick (1963) 23. Neff (1961) 112 Penfold, speaking for the Izaak Walton League at the Multiple Use Bill Hearings (U.S. Congress, House, 1960, p. 80), had this to say, ...we believe that it might be helpful to provide language in the bill to define what is meant by "multiple use." In recent years the phrase has become a slogan used by almost anyone to mean most anything. It's been used to mean multiple abuse, multiplied use, or perhaps just "my use." The "my use" concept, noted by Penfold above, is illustrated by a statement by the NLMA at the 1960 Multiple Use Bill Hearings (U.S. Congress, House, 1960, p. 71). Multiple use of the national forests is simply a concept of management which involves a combination of uses or services of the land in such a way that full utilization is realized consistent with the managerial objectives (major or dominant use) established by Congress, and all other (minor) uses which are combined in a complementary manner should be encouraged, except that minor uses must be adjusted to exclude conflict with the major or dominant use or uses. The NLMA had in mind, of course, the 1897 Organic Act, which specified timber as a dominant use. An "ecological monism" concept can also be identified. Some writers have tended to stress the biological and physical interdependencies of resources, although not to the exclusion of economic and social values. Jeffers (1943, p. 631) was one of these and succinctly summarized the position by writing, "Multiple use is the sum total of a chain of influences." The "health of the land" and a total "land ethic" were focused on nmre recently by Rahm (1962). This position does not seem to Visualize e°°1°gical "climax" as the optimum goal, however. 113 The "sin 1e acre" conce t, closely allied to the "ecological monism" above, has been characterized by others as that concept which seeks to maximize total return over all products on the same unit of area or acre. Gregory (1955) calls this the Dana- McArdle position after the authors of two major articles re- flecting this position (Dana, 1943, and McArcle, 1953). presumes that the major or dominant use in terms of value or physical yield is defined with respect to any area. This use is then maximized with other uses permitted or subordinated to the extent that productivity of the dominant use is not impaired. A "dominant use" position is also recognized. This View Gregory (1955) refers to this as the Pearson position for the author of an article representing this position (1944). In addition to these positions, one may note a general "economic optimum" position most clearly exemplified by an early article by Ciriacy—Wantrup (1938). Here we find the application of the joint enterprise model of economics, treating the forest Property as a firm and solving for the maximum net dollar return per unit of area over all products produced. Gregory (1955) also reflects this point of view and it is noted by Zivnuska (1961). This last position, however, is generally recognized as a technique for providing only part of the insights into multiple use management and does not pretend to encompass all of the con— sequences of a multiple use management policy. _—_.——.____ __—_ r— -.— 114 Public Law 86-517: The Multiple Use-- Spptained Yield Act of 1960 On June 12, 1960, Public Law 86-517 was signed into law by President Eisenhower. This act, The Multiple Use--Sustained Yield Act (74 stat. 215), is the present basic management policy act for the National Forests of the United States. A somewhat curious fact is that this law is, to a large extent, a summary of active authorities, executive directives and legal precedence by which the Forest Service has administered the National Forests since 1905 and which, in part, were provided by the Organic Administration Act of June 4, 1897, (30 stat. 34). The act of 1960 has four relatively short sections: Section 1 sustains the 1897 Organic Act mentioned above, and specifically names, in alphabetical order, outdoor recrea— tion, range, timber, watershed, wildlife and fish uses. Section 2 authorizes and directs the Secretary of Agriculture to "develop and administer the national forests for multiple use and sustained yield of the several products and services obtained there from." This is to be done by giving "due consideration...to the relative values of the various resources in particular areas." An important feature of SeCtion 2 is that "The establishment and maintenance of areas 0f Wilderness are consistent with the purposes and provisions of this Act." Section 3 authorizes cooperation of the Secretary of Agri— Culture with others in National Forest development and management. 115 Section 4 gives the following definitions of the multiple use and sustained yield concepts used in the act. "Multiple use" means: The management of all the various renewable surface resources of the national forests so that they are utilized in the combination that will best meet the needs of the American peOple; making the most judicious use of the land for some or all of these resources or related services over areas large enough to provide sufficient latitude for periodic adjustments in use to conform to changing needs and i conditions; that some land will be used for less than all | of the resources; and harmonious and coordinated manage- ment of the various resources, each with the other, without impairment of the productivity of the land, with consideration being given to the relative values of the various resources, and not necessarily the combination of uses that will give the greatest dollar return or the greatest unit output. I 'Sustained yield of the several products and services" means the achievement and maintenance in per- petuity of a high-level annual or regular periodic out— Pllt of the various renewable resources of the national forests without impairment of the productivity of the land. Chief McArdle of the Forest Service noted during the February hearings on the bill that, The national forests have been administered for many years under the dual conservation policies of multiple use and sustained yield. There is no question as to the Department's authority to so manage the na- tional forests, and the recommendation that this bill be enacted should not so be construed. (p. 36) "Why then," McArdle continued, "is this bill needed?" Representatives of the timber industries, with some support from Water interests, denied that the act was really needed, although they supported the general idea of multiple uses of the forests. The National Lumber Manufactures Association cited the following four acts as sufficient and clear direc- tion for the administration of the National Forests: 116 1. Creative Act, March 3, 1891, 26 stat. 1103. 2. Organic Administration Act, June 4, 1897, 30 stat. 34. 3. Transfer Act, February 1, 1905, 33 stat. 628. 4. Weeks Act, March 1, 1911, 36 stat. 961. The NLMA statement stressed that in each act timber and water were the specific resources for which the acts were created to serve and protect. The statement emphasized the concept of timber as a crop and cast doubt on recreation as a renewable ‘surface resource. This industry statement also quoted passages from annual reports of two previous Chiefs, Pinchot and Graves, that emphasized timber and water and concluded "that the early administrators of forest policy understood the purposes of the national forests as set forth in the act of June 4, 1897 (16 U.S.C. 475)." (p. 70) In earlier testimony in the same hearings, Chief McArdle observed that the act of 1897 did specify timber and water, but subsequent acts specified the other renewable resources. These included the Anderson-Mansfield Reforestation and Revegetation Act of October 11, 1949, (63 stat. 762), and the Granger-Thye Act of April 24, 1950, (64 stat. 82), which provided for graz- ing; ACt for Use of Lands Adjacent to Mineral Springs of February 28, 1899, (30 stat. 908), and the Term Permit Act of March 4, 1915, which recognized recreation. .MCArdle also Pointed out that the regulation of "occupancy and use" of the National Forests under the 1897 act was interpreted to include wildlife and fish as well. He might also have added in this 117 last regard the Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act of March 10, 1934 (48 stat. 401) and the Fish and Game Sanctuaries Act of March 10, 1934 (48 stat. 400). It is of interest to note that, in the same 1913 "Report" cited by the NLMA (p. 42), Graves had noted that recreation use of forest lands was growing rapidly and that "this is a highly important form of the use of the forests by the public...." Further review of the position of industry and others per— mits the observation that the substantive Objections to the proposed bill were really two in number: 1. Original legislation providing specifically for timber and water only was preferred. 2. If the other uses are to be recognized, dominant priori- ties should be assigned to timber and water. Strong support for the bill came from such groups as the I National Wildlife Society, the Izaak Welton League of America, the American Forestry Association, General Federation of Women's Clubs and, qualifiedly, the National WOol Grower's Association. Chief MbArdle provided the Forest Service answer to his own question in these same hearings: There is no specific statutory recognition or directive to administer national forest resources on a suStained-yield basis. The references to a continuous supply of timber contained in the act of June 4, 1897, and the references to the principle of sustained yield Contained in the regulations of the Secretary of Agriculture, in the "Forest Service Manual," and in the Sustained Yield Unit Act of 1944 are directed primarily to timber production. However, all of the renewable resources of the national forests should be, and are being, administered under the sustained-yield principle. (p. 37) With regard to multiple use, he said, ...we believe it to be both timely and desirable to recognize in a single statute these multiple-use ob- jectives now found in a variety of places, and to name ' each of the five major renewable natural resources as purposes for which the national forests are established and shall be administered. Such recognition would also serve as protection against excessive advocacy of single use. With the growing value of national forest resources, their increased use and accessibility, the pressures for single use of large areas of national forest land are growing tremendously. (p. 38) | Another reason given by McArdle was the feeling that it would help implement the then newly conceived 10— to lS-year "Program for the National Forests," stepped up in 1961 to the more intensive lO~year "Development Program for the National .—_——-——__..__. Forests." -—- MCArdle also addressed himself to the two points of: (1) the order in which resources were to be listed in the bill, and (2) the relative priorities to be assigned to these re- sources. The first was handled practically by inserting the uses in alphabetical order, and both were met with the argu- ment that all uses were, legislatively, to be given equal pri- ority in point of consideration. It was strongly stated as well that no one use could consistently, in every area, have the same Priority. -‘.—~_—_- - v 119 Multiple Use Planning The multiple use planning process in the U.S. Forest Service is at one time both simple and difficult to describe. It is simple in the sense that the overall process follows the line organization of the Forest Service. Broad national policies are established for the Service as a whole. The broadest statement of objectives at this level is nothing less than "the greatest good" for the people of the Nation. National policies and broad implementing instructions are incorporated in the Forest Service Manual, title 2100, "Multiple Use Management." Each Regional Forester with his staff must then prepare "Regional Multiple Use Guidelines" which also contain equally meritorious statements of objectives, but supplemented with regional descriptions of topography, economy, vegetation, "prob- ' etc. lems,‘ The ultimate, and next, step in the planning process is the development of the Ranger District Multiple Use Plan. (There are no National Forest Multiple Use Plans as such.) This plan describes and locates on the ground on the District those zones and areas discussed as such in the Regional Multiple Use Management Guide._ It identifies those areas for which management objectives have been determined and states as precisely as possible what those objectives are. In short, the Ranger District Multiple Use Plan specifies the ”what" and "where" of management. It is the broadest kind of plan on the District. 120 Action plans, or plans which tell "how" the multiple use job is to be done, are functional plans; i.e., the timber manage- ment plan, the range management plan, etc., all specify what will be done in each activity to do the particular job. Each of these activity or functional plans is developed in the light of "coordinating requirements" and "coordinating instructions" which provide guides for coordinating functional activities. For example, in category 1 and 2 recreation lands (i.e., sites either currently or potentially developed for intensive recrea— tion use, such as picnicking, camping, swimming, resort, summer home, etc.) detailed prescriptions of timber treatment are required. Recreation specialists generally determine the timber stand appearance requirements and timber management specialists will determine the best way to cut the timber to achieve the desired effects. Furthermore, these instructions prescribe some concepts and criteria which reflect overall policy. The difficult part of describing the multiple use planning syStem is that the planning directives only prescribe Ehgg decisions are to be made. They do not tell how the decision is to be made, except by inferring that it must be the best one possible. There are no prescribed "models" of decision making, such as were considered in chapter I of this report. There is, thus, a good deal of the entire decision making proc- ess left to the local administrator. Throughout this planning process, a distinctive vocabulary has been developing. Although it is necessary to make frequent 121 reference to a glossary of multiple use terminology to maintain perspective, it will only be necessary here to note that classi— fied wilderness-type areas are officially known as "special zones" in the multiple use plan. "Management directionqgi/ is established by specific regulations or authorities, rather than the more general mandate of the Multiple Use Act. Within such a "special zone," however, "management unitsqgi/ may be designated. Such a management unit within a Wilderness Area might be one around a particular lake which is a heavily used camping ground for both hikers and riders. Special management decisions may be required in this unit for keeping pack stock out of the way of backpack campers and away from campsites. Concentration of pack stock in small open forage areas around such lakes may also require special decisions about the desirability of packing in horse feed and building corrals. Thus, even within classified wilderness—type areas there are multiple use management decisions to be made. Furthermore, it seems more and more irrelevant to question the compatibility of ’single-purpose" Wilderness Area classification and the multiple use concept. What this becomes instead is simply another multiple use coordination question. Zfi/ The statement of objectives which apply to this specially designated area. 2&/ Areas within broader units within which a specific local situation or problem has been identified and for whiCh particular management decisions may be required. 122 A good deal more might be written about the multiple use planning system in the Forest Service. Instructions about it are becoming voluminous in the Forest Service Manual and direc- tives systems. Many plans are being developed on all Ranger Districts. More people are becoming more aware of it and more people are wondering just what it all means. However, to do so yvould not add much to our understanding in view of the dynamic nature of this planning process. Even now, new instructions are being prepared for the Manual, and new directives are being issued to the field in the attempt to develop plans and procedures that are more and more responsive to the high-purposed objectives of the National Forests. In a very real sense, this is what should be expected in a dynamic world facing an uncertain future. Prewilderness National Forest Land Allocations to Recreation On December 24, 1915, Secretary of Agriculture D. F. Phiston presented the Forest Service with a unique Christmas present by signing a Land Classification Order entitled "Reservation for Recreation Purposes of Lands Within the Oregon National Forest Adjacent to Columbia River Highway." Authority for this unprecedented action on western National Forests was found in the Forest Homestead Act of June 11, 1906 (34 stat. . 123 233), and the Agricultural Appropriations Act of August 10, 1912 (37 stat. 269, 287)._2_5_/ The weight attached to recreation in the order is signifi- cant, since purpose of "nonlistability" was not required to be designated by the act. Furthermore, Chief Forester Graves had earlier rejected a similar proposal by District Forester Cecil for the Twisp River project on the Okanogan Forest in washington State on the grounds that secretarial classification and segre— gation of agricultural and nonagricultural lands was sufficient to prevent undesired alienation of lands. Management plans for the "nonlistable" lands were considered to be the proper vehicles for specifying and managing for principal values.2§/ Assistant Forester Sherman, however, felt that there should be no objec- tion to including within the order words which gave weight to tflie particular uses or considerations influencing the decisions 111 such matters.£l/ He consequently, and successfully, 22/ In this case, the acts were used to classify as "non— listable" (i.e., either not suitable, or not desirable from the public point of view, as agricultural land) or unavailable for homestead entry certain National Forest lands which were adja- cent to the newly constructed Columbia Gorge highway. gé/ Letter of July 10, 1915, from Henry S. Graves, Chief Forester, U.S. Forest Service, to District Forester Cecil. ReSion 6, U.S. Forest Service files, Portland. Oreg. ZZ/ Memorandum for Div. of Lands, U.S. Forest Service, from E. A. Sherman. Region 6 files, Portland, Oreg. 124 recommended that the recreation purposes which precipitated the classification be included in the order. This action reserving nearly 14,000 acres (another 14,695 acres were added in 1938) of National Forest land expressly for recreation purposes was the first such action taken in the North Pacific Districtgg/ of the Forest Service. It was prompted by a massive campaign on the part of the Portland Chamber of Commerce to construct a 66-mile-long scenic highway east from Portland through the Columbia River Gorge to the town of Hood Zé/ In 1906 the Forester, Gifford Pinchot, grouped the Nation’s forest reserves into three Districts: Northern District: Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Minnesota. Southern District: Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma. Western District: Washington, Oregon, California, Alaska. A district officer was selected to administer each District and all three were stationed in Washington, D.C. A section of inspection was also organized and considerable autonomy was granted to local forest officers for implementing national policies. In 1907 there were six Districts, with District 6 comprised 2f Whahington, Oregon, and Alaska. On May 1, 1929, the name District" was changed to "Region." At this time there were nine Regions and the North Pacific Region (Region 6) was now made up of Oregon and most of Washington. Alaska became a Separate Region. The forests in the northeastern corner of thhington were placed in the Northern Region for reasons of administrative feasibility. There are now 10 Regions. Region $9233 been officially named the Pacific Northwest Region since 125 River, Oregon.22/ National advertising referred to it as "America's Most Wonderful Scenic Drive" and "A Combination of the Alps, the Rhine and Southern Italy." This was "the land of H II Thanatopsis, where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound save its own dashings." Other reasons also existed for this classification. Dis— trict Forester Cecil saw it as a means to capture a National 22! A letter dated July 3, 1915, signed by C. C. Colt, president of the Portland Chamber, was sent to "The Forester, Forest Service, washington, D.C.," summarizing the interest of the Chamber in the proposed classification. This is quoted in part below: This movement was inaugurated by the Portland Cham- ber of Commerce which is composed of 4,500 business men. We are deeply interested in the withdrawal of this public land lying parallel and adjacent to the South bank of the Columbia River, between Portland and Hood River, for we are Sparing neither money, labor nor talent to make this Highway one of the most scenic in the world. The length of the Highway from Portland to the town of Hood River is 66 miles. In the past 18 months we have spent $725,000.00 in the construction of the Highway, which at no point exceeds a grade of 5%. The roadway throughout is 24 feet wide, and twelve rein- forced concrete bridges have been built at a cost of $150,000.00, making a total expenditure to date of $875,000.00. We are now hardsurfacing the Highway at a cost of $16,000.00 per mile. 43 miles of it will be paved by December lst, 1915. You can, therefore, appreciate our deep concern in the matter of having the greatest possi- ble area of public land adjacent to the Highway forever set aside and dedicated to the Public for Recreation. ”#4 126 Park-like opportunity for the Forest Serviceég/ and to forestall or prevent "monopolistic" appropriation of choice homestead sites near the highway for the financial advantage of a few and lessen the ability of adjacent private lands to also reap "monopolistic" or windfall profits for their owners. Concern over burgeoning National Park sentiment, and all it portended for certain National Forest areas, was also revealed in the attempt to select a name for the area. Originally referred to in the local press as the "Columbia River Highway National Park," it was eventually classified as the Columbia Gorge Park Division of the Oregon National Forest (later Mount Hood National Forest). This designation was used to associate strongly this park-like area with the Forest Service and avoid confusion with the National Parks, which were administered by the Department of the A strip of public land 3 miles wide and approximately 23 miles long would embrace an area valuable chiefly for its matchless scenery. It is composed largely of gigantic rocky palisades, canyons and mountain peaks. Its per- pendicular cliffs rise in many places two to three thousand feet sheer from the Columbia River's edge. c a a v we wish to further call your attention to the fact that this Highway is now being advertised by us nation- ally, and that, in addition to its local use and enjoy- ment, it will be sought by automobile tourists from coast to coast. QQ/ Memorandum of July 2, 1915, to the Forester, Region 6, files, Portland, Oreg. 127 Interior.§l/ Furthermore, homestead entry to National Forest lands had been, for nearly a decade, a constant thorn in the side of the Forest Service because it had been badly abused as a means of obtaining timber in the Northwest in particular.§3/ According to the Forest Service in l9l4,§§/ In the heavily timbered districts of the Northwest alone fraudulent timber claims asserted under the home- stead law which carry 391,318,000 feet of timber, worth not less than $700,000, are now under protest by the Forest Service. Of the 12,330 acres comprised in these claims, the total area actually cultivated by the claimants at the time of the protest to the General Land Office and request by the Forest Service that they be canceled was 47 acres, or less than four-tenths of l per cent. a The problem extends far beyond the claims now under contest. There are hundreds of old abandoned locations, with their little cabins on unsurveyed land, to which éi/ See memo of C. H. Flory, Assistant District Forester, Portland, to the Forester, Washington, D.C., July 31, 1915, and replies of August 10, 1915, and November 11, 1915, by Acting Forester Potter and Forester Graves, respectively, Region 6 files. E2/ The "Report of the Forester" for 1913 and for 1914 paid particular attention to this matter, noting the previous history of fraudulent entry to public forest lands under earlier legislation (e.g., the Timber and Stone Act of 1878, and the lieu-land provision of the Sundry Civil Appropriations Act of 1897-~0therwise known as the "Forest Reserve Act") and specific instances of fraud under more recent forest homestead law. .32/ Ibid, 1914, p. 3. 128 claim will be asserted as soon as the land is surveyed. Locations of this kind are actually known to the Forest Service which involve between three and four million dollars' worth of timber; and there are many more. Numerous instances of homesteads passing to lumber com- panies after being brought to patent were cited. As noted in a later "Report of the Forester" (U.S. Forest Service, 1914), it was not until 1913, however, that funds were provided for a systematic classification of National Forest lands as to their suitability for agriculture. Also in this backdrop was Forester Grave's 1912 address to the Fourth National Conservation Congress in which he hit strongly at the fraudulent entry of the National Forests in the name of homesteading (Dana, 1956). In short, the Columbia Gorge Park Division of the Oregon National Forest was a result of a propitious combination of circumstances. Not only does this 1915 action stand as a land- mark land use decision in Forest Service history in the Northwest, it illustrates some of the important characteristics of the atmosphere within which the Forest Service has operated as a public agency making decisions to allocate relatively large areas of National Forests to recreation uses. It also embodies the general spirit of land classification that has pervaded land use legislation and administration in the United States. The Precedent that it established led to other similar allocations of National Forest lands to recreation purposes. Evan though this kind of allocation implied relatively easy-access outdoor recreation-~thus not exactly consistent 129 with roadless wilderness-—it was, nevertheless, a kind of "vast area" dedication to outdoor recreation, and this was a signifi- cant departure from the original kinds of uses (i.e., timber production, watershed protection, and grazing), which were featured as the overriding purposes of the National Forests. It is also significant that this kind of land use decision should occur in a Region which was fast gaining its present reputation as a major timber basket for the world's temperate zone. Subsequent prewilderness—type allocations of Region 6 National Forest lands to recreation purposes were four in number: 1. Quinault Lake Recreation Area (April 5, 1922) This contains a net area of 2,520 acres of land adjacent to the east side of Quinault Lake on the Olympic National Forest. Rain forest type is featured, including the "Big Acre" containing the largest volume of timber on 1 acre in the United States. This was established by Administrative Order by District Forester Cecil. It is currently being considered for reclassification under Regulation U-3(a). 2. Mount Hood Recreatigg Area (April 28, 19262 This 83,73l-acre area on the Mount Hood National Forest in Oregon surrounds the highest peak, Mount Hood, in the Oregon Cascades. It is also one of the most well-known areas of its kind as a result of studies by two special Mount Hood Committees in the later 1920's, ~.-——_____ the subsequent development of Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood as a skiing center and its accessibility to the Portland metropolitan area, as well as to inter- state highway travelers. 3. Mount Baker Recreation Area (September 24, 1926) This area, first established by Secretary of Agri- culture Jardine as the Mount Baker Park Division of the Mount Baker National Forest, is 74,859 acres in size and surrounds photogenic Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan in northwest washington. 4. Mather Memorial Parkway (March 24, 1931} The dedication of 24,300 acres of virgin Douglas-fir forest in a l/2-mile strip on each side of the Naches Pass highway leading to the east entrance of Rainier National Park was, and still is, a unique form of land classification on the National Forests. This was es- tablished as a memorial to Stephen T. Mather, first Director of the National Park Service, and was noted as a signal act of mutual respect between the Park Service and the Forest Service. At the time of their dedication, these areas (excepting the Mather Parkway) were the principal locations for the de- velOPment of public campgrounds and provision of facilities for related outdoor recreation activities. Again, in view of the Principal purposes of the National Forests in that earlier 131 era, this kind of dedication of National Forest land was a note— worthy accomplishment. Today, however, these areas have diminished in relative significance for three principal reasons: (1) more National Forest land of outstanding scenic character has been made available by additional road and highway development; (2) developed, easy-access recreation sites have been established by the Forest Service throughout the National Forests; and (3) outdoor recreation activities and related facilities are codominant elements in management planning on the National Forests, with timber production, grazing and other major purposes. The Landscape Management Areaéé/ concept of Region 6 management policy (U.S. Forest Service, 1962a and 1962b), for example, is producing many éfl/ Landscape Management Areas have been defined and characterized in "Basic Objectives and Policy to Guide Multiple Use Management, Region 6" (see "Literature Cited") as follows: Within the management associations...exist areas called "Landscape Management Areas," which are of special Significance because of their recreation value. These are areas which now receive heavy public use or which Will be heavily used in the future. They are areas ad- jacent to water, and routes of travel, and they occur mainly in the Upper Forest, Principal Forest, and Grass- Shrub Associations. These areas require a special type of management differing from that applied to the specific associations in which they occur. For this reason these areas are recognized as separate management areas. The Landscape Management Area will contain one or more of the following elements: . 1. Recreationally important routes of travel; fish-producing streams; rivers, lakes, springs, and Water impoundments, plus a strip of land (known as the 132 miles of memorial-parkway-like roadside strips in Region 6 as roads and highways push deeper into virgin forests and as timber reproduction on adjacent cutover lands grows into maturity. The Motivation for Wilderness It now seems relevant to directly confront the question: How and for what reasons did the Forest Service get involved in the wilderness business? The record reviewed during the course of this study seems only inferential and fragmentary at best. The most complete documentation of the rise of a definite wil- derness policy for the National Forests is that provided by roadside, streamside or lakeside zone) next to the water or route of travel. This zone is maintained to provide, as far as possible, attractive environment in the area immediately adjacent to the recreation attraction. In this zone, few permanent land occupancies, including recreation occupancies, are allowed. 2. An area adjacent to the roadside, streamside, or lakeside zone where permanent recreation occupancies and other public service developments are allowed. This area is called the occupancy portion of the Landscape Management Area. 3. The primary foreground area, which is of impor— tance in the scenery visible from roads, streams, and lakes and from the occupancy area. The degree of need for natural qualities in this foreground area will vary with the particular resource association and will be de- termined by the management objectives and recreation policies for that association. The Landscape Management Area varies in size, depend- ing on such factors as topography, timber type, and quality of the recreational attraction--for example, a narrow strip just wide enough to provide natural beauty ‘c ’._.—— -- 133 Gilligan.§§/ At this point, it does not seem possible to pinpoint the exact motivation, but some hypotheses are suggested. These are called here: 1. The dominant personality hypothesis. 2. The interagency rivalry hypothesis. 3. The fortuitous circumstance hypothesis. Adequate testing of these hypotheses would require exten- sive content analysis of wilderness literature and pertinent correspondence, as well as personal interviews with surviving participants in these matters. Dominant Personalityxgypothesis Throughout the history of concern with wilderness and outdoor recreation, strong personalities have studded the forum and become associated with particular viewpoints. Two of these luminaries seem particularly important. They are Aldo Leopold and Robert Marshall.§§/ A statement of the hypothesis might thus be: along small streams. 0n the other hand, a primary fore- ground area may extend for a considerable distance back from a heavy public use area, with various graduations in modification of resource uses. 22/ Up. cit., 1953. £9! Gilligan (1953) sketches in the relevant biographies of these two men, and the wilderness literature abounds in their own writings and references thereto. fi—n- —-—._._____ ._ p 'v— 134 if there had been no dominant preachers of the wilderness doctrine like Leopold and Marshall, Ehgg there would be no wilderness (in the institutional sense) on the National Forests. we can state at the outset that this hypothesis can neither be rejected nor accepted on the basis of the record which has been reviewed in this study. A line of reasoning, which tends toward rejection, is that the record of classification of in- stitutionalized wilderness on National Forest lands during the periods in which both men were most actively and directly engaged in promoting wilderness (Leopold, in the 1920's, and Marshall, in the 1930's) is not impressive. Aldo Leopold can be credited directly only with the setting aside of the Gila Wilderness in 1924. Furthermore, Leopold's idea had been to set aside at least one large (500,000 acres or more) area in every western state. This idea was never realized except in five states. Marshall's personal campaign, both from within and outside of the Forest Service, was conducted on a much larger scale than Leopold's. His early development of a classification SCheme for forest recreation lands in the Copeland Report (U.S. Congress, Senate, 1933) was a major milestone in establishing Criteria for different kinds of recreational lands on the National Forests, especially the "vast area" wilderness-type lands. By the time of his death in 1939, there was probably no sizeable roadless area on any National Forest that had not ~— 135 been visited and recommended for special wilderness-type status (preferably "Primitive" under Regulation L-20) by Marshall. Yet, in spite of his ambitious undertakings, less than one—third of the acreage proposed for such designation by Marshall was actually classified by the Forest Service' and much of this was done in the shadow of possible National Park acquisition of such lands. Also of importance is the virtual nonexistence of a direct relationship between these individuals and the actual formula- tion of the major regulations or authorities for formally classifying wilderness-type areas on National Forests.§l/ The argument which tends toward acceptance of the dominant personality hypothesis is equally compelling. Even though the concrete and direct impacts of Leopold and Marshall are obscure, there seems little reason to doubt their importance. The fundamental philosophical parallels of thought between their statements and public pronouncements surrounding official policies belies, to some extent, their influence. For various ‘reasons, it seems, neither Leopold nor Marshall were given a significant amount of official recognition for their efforts in behalf of wilderness. L. F. Kneipp seems to have been more propitiously placed in time and circumstance to effectively implement wilderness policies and programs in the Forest Service; and, significantly, he built upon Marshall's ideas. él/ These regulations are discussed more fully in chapter IV. 136 Furthermore, Leopold and Marshall had much to do with organizing public support for wilderness ideology outside the Forest Service. Both were principal organizers of the Wilderness Society in 1935, one of the most effective and respected voices for wilderness in the United States. Today, it is not uncommon to note in wilderness writings the referatory phrase "As Bob Marshall was in the habit of saying..." or "As Aldo Leopold would put it...," etc. These two men, perhaps more than any others, symbolize wilderness leadership for wilderness proponents. Thus, their impact may be reckoned as considerable; although it may not have been both necessary and sufficient. Interagency Rivalry flypothesis Perhaps the strongest hypothesis to be formed from Gilligan'séé/ analysis is the interagency rivalry hypothesis. The broad outline of this hypothesis runs something as follows. It is a matter of record that some highly placed Forest Service officers feared National Park acquisition of scenic National Forest lands in the west. It is a matter of record that some National Forest lands were placed under National Park Service jurisdiction as in the case of the National Monuments. It is also a matter of record that there was top~level rivalry for jurisdiction over public lands in the West between the Departments of Agriculture and Interior. Also, the use of the Primitive fl/ Op. cit., 1953. 137 Area policy and program, as a means to maintain preservationist support for the National Forests and thwart National Park Service expansion plans based on National Forest lands, was listed as one of several reasons for maintaining this policy and program during a 1932 Forest Service staff meeting in washington, D.C. Finally, the period of most active development of a wilderness policy and program for the National Forests coincided with this period of interagency rivalry. Peffer (1951) and Hays (1959) also provide documentation which lends support to this hypothesis. The weakness of this hypothesis stems partly from the apparent genesis of a general recreation policy for the National Forests, apart from wilderness recreation per se, during these formative decades of the Forest Service. Admittedly, it may be that the wilderness-park-preserve complex of issues served as midwife to this birth; yet it seems more of an adjunct to the larger issue of recreation in general as a purpose of the National Forests. Furthermore, the individuals who formed the phrases embodying the wilderness philosophy did not invest their time and effort in the National Park vs. National Forest controversy. They occupied themselves rather completely in support of a cause that did not, basically, distinguish between administrative agencies. Fortuitous Circumstance Hypothesis Of all hypotheses advanced to explain the accomplishment of an institutionalized wilderness policy and program on the National Forests, the one of fortuitous circumstance seems """ _“—" u-—- __- 138 generally most acceptable. Of course, it can be said that anything that happens is the result of fortuitous circumstances in the large. And in this sense this hypothesis is not too meaningful. Nevertheless, what is intended here is a change in emphasis. It is not helpful to rely heavily on either of the two preceding hypotheses alone, for neither one provides a sufficient and necessary condition for the rise and maintenance of the institu- tionalized wilderness system of the National Forests. If there had been no park vs. forest controversy, it still seems likely that the wilderness idea would have acquired enough political vitality through its organized supporters to bring substantial pressure to bear on public forest land managers. It is diffi- cult to imagine a lack of leadership for a concept like wilder- ness. If there had been no Aldo Leopold or Robert Marshall, then, presumably, it would have been a Tom Smith or a Robert Jones or a Mary Green. In any event, in the unlikely absence of leadership, it seems that some similar concept would, never- theless, have been generated out of the park vs. forest con- troversy. The point of emphasis, thus, seems to be that these two major hypotheses should be merged to form one which stresses their mutually supportive roles. The wilderness idea was a useful bait to attract the preservationists’ support to the Forest Service in the National Forest-National Park debate. 139 At the same time, this debate served as an almost perfect vehicle for implementing the wilderness idea in an on—the—ground program. To phrase this concept in a more general and suggestive way, we may observe in retrospect the rather neat dichotomous relationship between firm and client, viewed principally from the firm's vantage point. we have in mutually supporting roles the interests of the firm and the interests of its clientele. The firm seeks to maximize its stability, both with respect to its clients and its competitors. It can maximize its stability with both competitors and clients by seeking and serving best the client's demands. In so doing, it has not only served its own interest, but also supplied a service to the client. The "social efficiency" with which this is done is another question. Recurring Issues To complete, and, in a sense, summarize this background information, there are at least 15 recurring issues or themes in the wilderness dialogue that should be recognized in order to grasp the sense of the arguments. These are labeled here: 1. Anthr0pocentricity. 2. Public access to decision making. 3. Minority rights. 4. Vicarious use. 5. Economic vs. noneconomic values and the negligibility argument. 140 6. Intrarecreation conflict. 7. Protection by legislation vs. regulation. . 8. Multiple use vs. single use. A 9. Freedom of choice. 10. Conservation ethics. ] ll. Sanctuary, sanity, and health. 12. Science and the "control-plot" notion. 13. Local vs. national interests. 14. Wilderness use capacity. 15. Size, location, and configuration of area. A few brief comments on each of these issues are given below. As might be expected, individual pieces of wilderness litera- ture contain more than one of these themes. Many of these have already been cited. A few more citations are provided below, however, not as necessarily the "best" or exclusive statements of these points, but because they are at least illustrative of them. Anthropocentricity Spurr (1963) provides a concise definition of wilderness as an "anthropocentric" concept: "It is a concept conceived by man, centered in man and having meaning only with relation— ship to man." This leads to identifying the values that man Wants from wilderness and then creating the kind of "wilderness" that provides them by the use of judicious timber management or other practices. 141 This argument is usually supported by the assertion that, biologically, there is nothing static about wilderness. we must, therefore, control this dynamic environment to make certain that what eventually results is what man wants. Errington (1963) also suggests "creation" of certain kinds of environmental wilderness, although "man management" may be a better approach to wilderness objectives. One might easily claim, of course, that this merely offers a rationale for logging in wilderness-type areas and thus misses much of the point of the wilderness idea--i.e., an environment which is truly "natural" and reflective only of the nonman power of nature. Public Access to Decision Making Reich (1962) provides a modern classic statement of this idea. This is essentially that the bureaucratic machinations 0f public land management agencies tend to trammel the "rights" of the public to voice an opinion on major public land use decisions. Such a decision, affecting all "public" interests, exists when one alternative action is to "irreversibly" commit undeveloped forest areas to the bulldozer or chainsaw. "Mul- tiple use hearings" have been urged by the Sierra Club (Anonymous, 1960), for example, in all such cases. Those who argue for more access to public land use de- cisions are aware of the hearings procedure in wilderness classification cases, but suggest that public opinion is sought 142 at the wrong time in the decision making process--i.e., after most of the decisions have been made; or, if sought, it is not heeded. Minority Rights The political problem of recognition of "minority rights" was raised early in the wilderness context. Gilliganég/ cites three 1928 articles in the old Forest Service house organ, the "Forest Service Bulletin," by Manly Thompson, Aldo Leopold, and Robert Marshall, which outline the idea. Thompson's leadoff article in this debate accused wilderness enthusiasts of being a selfish minority who wanted their own private hunt— ing and fishing preserves at little or no cost. Leopold replied, caustically questioning whether the value of human needs must always be measured quantitatively and suggesting wilderness as a challenge to show by our actions whether we thought human minorities were worth bothering about. Marshall fired the parting volley by relating wilderness to the public function of defending minorities "such as is done with public monies for museums, art galleries, universities, swimming pools and the patent office." This rationale seems to have suffered somewhat by lack of extension to include some broader public benefits of protecting minority rights. For example, the protected minority may be among the most productive or gifted members of the citizenry. h.— 191 Ibid. 143 Hence, this protection in the form of wilderness reservation may be among the most acceptable kinds of investment for all to make to maintain this kind of social productivity. Vicarious Use One has only to glance at a sample of correspondence from eastern seaboard residents to the Regional Forester of Region 6 pursuant to the classification of the Glacier Peak or Three Sisters Wilderness Areas to realize the importance of vicarious "use" of wilderness-type areas by nonusers. Their sentiments are captured by this quote from Stephen Leacock's "Funny Pieces" in Ely and wehrwein (1940, p. 315): To all of us here, the vast unknown country of the North, reaching away to the polar seas, supplies a peculiar mental background. I like to think that in a few short hours in a train or a car I can be in the primeval wilderness of the North; that if I like, from my summer home, an hour or two of flight will take me over the divide and down the mournful shores of the James Bay, untenanted till yesterday, now haunted with its flock of airplanes hunting gold in the wilderness. I never have gone to James Bay; I never go to it; I never shall. But somehow I'd feel lonely without it. This is an often-repeated theme used also in conjunction with the mental~health idea. Economic vs. Noneconomic Values and the Negligibility Argument Perhaps the most belabored point in this listing is that which places in opposition economic and noneconomic values in Wilderness matters. In the author's view, the emphasis of this sort of comparison is mistaken for two reasons: (1) eco- nomic values simply are not comparable to noneconomic values, v' " L 144 and (2) relevant alternatives each ordinarily require objecti- fication of both the economic and the noneconomic consequences which are used together to compare with like consequences attendant upon other alternatives. Nevertheless, the theme is a dominant one and thus becomes a fact with which to contend. Leopold (1921 and 1925) frequently stressed this idea, and persuasively argued for qualitative rather than quantitative analysis of wilderness. Our "cultural heritage" is one of these noneconomic values that many, including Leopold (1925), Brower (1957), and Swift (1963), elaborate upon. Perhaps one of the strongest elements of this idea, however, is what may be called the "negligibility argument" of the wilderness enthusiast. In essence, the point is to show how really small the economic values are which are at stake. Dustin's (1964, pp. 6 and 7) statement sums up this point: It seems a desperate situation that we should be pleading that less than one percent of our nation's land area be permitted to exist without benefit of our improving hands. we are a nation of over 2,200,000,000 acres of lands and waters. If we cannot achieve our destiny on up to 99.5 percent of this, then we are damned; and the wreckage of the last flyspecks in the name of progress and profit cannot save us. 0 a o u e u 0 Such lands are the heritage of us all, and we hold that they should be set aside and protected entire; we believe that their microscopic removal from commercial availability will not impede economic development, but on the contrary their destruction would cost our nation a price it cannot afford and should not be asked to pay. 145 An unfortunate and ironic consequence of this, as some will argue, is that "In case after case 'wilderness' has come to mean the absence of exploitable economic values." (Simons, 1960). Intrarecreation Conflict Although timber harvest and mining operations have been prominently billed as coantagonists to wilderness, one of the knottiest problems of wilderness allocation and management rests entirely within the general area of outdoor recreation. Some fragments of a likely wilderness may represent ideal loca— tions for intensive development sites for camping, picnicking, or boating. Furthermore, different kinds of users use wilder- ness. In many of these cases, a choice must be made: Who or what activity shall be excluded or limited? Snyder (1960 and 1963) underscores the intrarecreation problem of pack animals vs. backpack hikers on wilderness trails and the physical deterioration of heavily used areas; Lucas (1964a and 1964b) has provided an excellent characterization of the conflict between paddling canoeists and motor boaters in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area; and Cliff (1964) speaks for all National Forest recreation planners when he cites the various kinds of intrarecreation use competition developing throughout the National Forest System. Finally, academic observers, such as Zivnuska (1963) and vaux (1959) suggest that the intrarecreation relationships of wilderness use will, if they do not already, constitute major 146 problems to be solved, as well as sources of local community economic impact in the future. Protection by Legislation vs. Regulation Since Senator Humphrey of Minnesota introduced the first of many proposed wilderness bills in the Senate on June 7, 1956, (S-4013), up to the present, a continuous stream of pressure for such legislation has been maintained by wilderness proponents. Four early articles, by Zahniser (1957a and 1957b), Humphrey (1957), and Saylor (1957), about this proposed legislation clarified the felt need for legislation as opposed to existing administrative regulations and informal "management" of wilderness-type areas. Two reasons were generally given: (1) a need to provide in specific legislation a clearcut national policy for wilderness-type areas, and (2) a desire to obtain maximum assurance of permanence. It was usually expressed that, although public land management agencies--notably the Forest Service and the Park Service-~were doing a good job of preserv— ing such areas, there was no assurance that they would be able to continue to fend off commercial encroachment unless supported by specific legislation. Multiple Use vs. Single Use It seems improbable that during the course of discussion of any wilderness area, the issue of multiple use vs. single use would not arise. The vantage point of the participant influences strongly his interpretation of both terms. 147 The likely interpretations of multiple use made by wilder— ness proponents are illustrated by some of the literature cited earlier. Multiple use may be referred to as the absence of policy (McConnel, 1959), or multiple abuse (Cammerer, 1940), or as sounding the death knell for wilderness (Anonymous, 1960). Albright (1960) makes the contrast more pointed by declaring multiple use a deliberate attempt to characterize National Parks as single use. These proponents deny the singleness of use for their preference by ticking off the multiple recreation uses of National Parks and the several products and services such as water, grazing, and recreation, which flow from Wilderness Areas. Those who inveigh against such "exclusive" or "single" use designations as National Parks or Wilderness Areas may, like Chapman (1937), oppose them because they represent urban—spawned emotion and sentiment to forego the true concept of wise-use conservation and initiate no—use preservation. Others, on the other hand, may oppose such "single use" designations because their use--e.g., timber cutting-~is not among the remaining permitted multiple uses. Pomeroy (1957) has contrasted these two positions, and by asking the question "Should exclusive or multiple-use policies prevail on this area?" has inferred single use as the synonym for wilderness. Freedom of Choice Somewhat related to the notions of mental health and vicarious "use" is the theme that Wilderness Areas are required, because they provide a broader spectrum of fulfillment for society as a whole. Without wilderness, so the argument runs, we would be that much poorer by losing the opportunity to ex- ercise those talents and insights which are called forth from some individuals by the wilderness experience. Presumably there is no substitute for this. It has been expressed alternatively as follows (University of California Wildland Research Center, 1962, p. 28): Of the many experiences open to people, apparently the most highly valued are those rooted deeply in emotion. There are many opportunities for spiritual and esthetic experience in the landscape. Each one is an alternative resting in the back of the mind, an unconscious reminder of a freedom of choice. When an alternative is threatened, it is brought up before the mind's eye and its potential loss becomes a direct threat to personal freedom. The deeper the attachment to a place, whatever its cause, the more ominous the threat appears, whether it is a threat to Walden Pond, a national monument, a wilderness area, or the Taj Mahal. Conservation Ethics Conservation ethics have been discussed at some length above. A somewhat special emphasis is suggested here however: the moral constraint or ethical compulsion to p25 disenfranchise succeeding generations by destroying such cultural resources as Wilderness today. If the cultural heritage embodied in wilder- ness today has value in the present generation, we have no reason to presume that it will be valueless to future generations. In fact, the presumption becomes that our present wilderness base, in the face of increasing populations, will become relatively more scarce, hence, more valuable rather than less. 149 What this emphasis seems to neglect, of course, is the relativeness of value. While future wilderness may truly be more valuable than today's wilderness, we must yet guess about its value relative to other land use and cultural alternatives. The relative "price" of wilderness may increase or decline and lead to results quite different than those based on the present and future values of wilderness only. SanctuagyI Sanity, and Health The therapeutic benefits of recreation have been discussed above. This, too, seems to represent a very strong undercurrent in wilderness ideology. Perhaps the best summary Statement of this view has been presented by Dr. Donald McKinley (1963, p. 16), a Portland, Oregon, psychiatrist and inveterate wilderness hiker and backpacker: The true wilderness experience is a distinct and unique emotional phenomenon having the depth of impact and renewal capacity of a religious experience. Not all people experience it, but for those who do it is a most important ingredient to their individual adaptation to life's stresses and strains. Opportunities to know it can be a real necessity. Knowing it even just once in a lifetime can have a lasting rejuvenating capacity, simply from remembering it. Some sense of satisfaction can be obtained by those who have never personally known it through reading about it as experienced by others and believing that it could be possible for themselves. The circumstances that make possible the true wil— derness experience in the fullest sense are quite specific. The individual concerned must spend his own physical energy walking or climbing into a place with Wilderness characteristics. Riding in a car, airplane or motorbike is fine in itself, but robs the person of one of the elements that makes the experience most Enjoyable. His own output of energy enhances the value 0f the experience in proportion to the difficulties of 150 the enterprise. Another essential element is that the wilderness traveler must not be in a state of tension or conflict with other people with whom he travels. There must be companionability. Covert friction most effectively dampens the outcome. Thirdly there must be minimal evidence of man in the present as well as in the past. Signs of civiliza— tion such as old machinery, dwellings, logging opera- tions and so forth must be only faintly in the background or not present at all. Even the white streak of a high flying jet can detract from the joy of the moment. Lastly there is needed a visual scene that is impressive because of its physical size, and which may provide reminders of the vastness of time or the effects of weather and other natural forces. It ought to contain evidences of animal and plant life with both favorable and unfavorable circumstances as demonstra- tions of the adaptability and versatility of nature, its vagaries and intricacies. Given all these conditions a man can gain a new perspective about himself and all that is about him. He can see nothing but vastness and complexity in an overwhelming proportion in comparisons to which he himself is transient and small. He can see that all the things that have been his concern in civilized life, in the long run don't really count for much. For the moment he can forget everything except the beauty and awe that surrounds him. He can relax, no struggle is needed. A peace settles upon him and even in his littleness of the moment he is at the same time very important because he is the center of all that he can perceive about him. Deevey (1961) has created a masterfully humorous inference along the same line in his examination of the impact of popula— tion numbers on physiological responses of certain small mammals. §Cxience and the Control-Plot Notion One idea that has led to both confusion about and clarifi— cation of the purpose of wilderness is that Wilderness Areas Offer opportunities for scientific study of physical and bio— lOgical phenomena over long periods of time. In this sense, 151 wilderness is seen as an ecological island or museum which can be used as a standard plane of reference, against which non- wilderness environments can be measured. Pearson (1922) early recognized the possibility for re- search uses of Aldo Leopold's Wilderness Areas; although he urged smaller supplemental areas to provide a wider sample of types of conditions. Shelford (1933) also wrote in behalf of "nature sanctuaries" for scientific study. Kezer (1958), Taylor (1959), and Errington (1963), among others, have made pointed reference to Wilderness Areas as suitable research environments. Some relatively unique observations in this vein, however, are those made by Fisher (1960). Rather than use wilderness as a biological science laboratory in the usual sense, Fisher Suggests we use it as a social science laboratory, relying also on the skills of natural scientists where they help answer questions concerning such things as wilderness use capacity and the impact of use on the physical environment, and the related impact on wilderness use satisfactions. LPCal vs. National Interests A traditional conundrum in the wilderness debate is whether Wilderness, or particular wilderness-type areas, should be evaluated as local or national resources in a mutually exclusive sense. Wilderness proponents usually argue for the national viewpoint for several reasons. One of these is that wilderness SuPPort--the organized groups and individuals, who provide 152 money and write letters to congressmen--is widely scattered geographically. There is, thus, always the presumption that local prowilderness supporters will be outnumbered by local nonwilderness advocates in local instances. Yet, curiously, prowilderness supporters seem to gather in force at public hearings at the local level on wilderness matters in the Northwest at least. It has also been related to the author that it is tactically expedient for wilderness supporters to escalate the wilderness debate to national prominence, since they seem to find more sympathetic ears at strategic places at the national level. National congressmen and agency heads are frequently characterized as more willing to concede points to organized outdoor groups than local officials. The attempt to obtain specific national legislation for Wilderness is also related to this point. There is little doubt that supporters of wilderness legislation see it as a vehicle for strengthening the national-level perspective of wilderness as a resource. This, in turn, has inestimable value in enhanc— ing the bargaining position on wilderness of the nationally dispersed wilderness enthusiasts. The so—called "commodity interests" tend to stress local cOmmunity economic impacts or consequences of classification as if the potential resources to be foregone were actually being used. National impacts are also invoked, though less forcefully, 153 and national organizations of such interests frequently offer at least token opposition in particular cases. Wilderness Use Capacity It is usually assumed that before we can estimate land requirements we must know what the land-~appropriately strati- fied-~is capable of producing. From such knowledge and some information about "demand" for the product or uses of land, we estimate land requirements. In this context, the question of wilderness use capacity has some meaning. Unfortunately, we seem to know very little about the productivity of land in terms of wilderness products and values although there are strong hypotheses. Individuals vary in terms of their abilities to gain satisfaction from a given aspect. Furthermore, we are not certain that we can satisfactorily quantify this satisfaction to the extent that We can in the "ordinary" marketplace where consumers buy measurable quantities of goods and express relative values through a medium of exchange. This argument, at any rate, is contained in the apparent Contradiction of "pure" wilderness and use. Flint (1926, p. 407) early expressed this view by declaring, Perhaps if one closely analyzes the arguments of the true "wilderness" advocate, it will become apparent that it is not roads but people he objects to. Perhaps he wants "wilderness" to himself and the elect few, and objects to roads because they inevitably bring other People. He seems to say, "There should be wilderness areas preserved for the use of the great American Pub- lic," and in the same breath, "they can‘t be wilderness if more than a few of the people enjoy them." 154 Arnold (1961) also brings out the incompatibility of use and "pure" wilderness, using instances of it in the High Sierras to justify wilderness management. wagar (1964) has done some interesting speculating about recreation land carrying capacity in general. He has objecti- fied in an ordinal geometric way the impact of crowding on the recreationist's satisfactions for various recreation objectives. Thus, maximizing satisfactions per unit of wilderness land is also a function of the collective and individual objectives of wilderness users. The study by Lucas (1964b) of users of the Boundary waters Canoe Area is also interesting in this regard, since he con— firmed suspicions with empirical research that the perception of wilderness begins for many before they enter the classified area. By the same token, some consider only the most remote heartland of such institutionalized Wilderness Areas "true wilderness." In some respects, concern with finding out more about Wilderness use capacity as a means of estimating wilderness land requirements seems futile. The subject is quite complex and confounded and there seems to be relatively little land left to classify. Yet it is undoubtedly an important kind of fact to discover for the insights it will offer into managing what wilderness-~and other undeveloped wild land-~we now have. It should also represent an approach to better management of other areas used for recreation. 155 Size, Location, and Configuration of Area Finally, there is always the matter of getting dOWn to cases and bringing the various wilderness criteria and arguments to bear on particular land areas. This means deciding upon the location, size, and configuration or shape of area to be classi- fied or claimed by institutionalized wilderness. Likely locations for wilderness are usually not as heatedly § debated as are size and shape. Roadlessness, scenic attractive— ness, and some other apparently "obvious" characteristics suggest the location. Size of area is mainly a matter of principle now, although it is also confounded with the matter of shape. Wilderness supporters generally argue for maximum size in any given case. Leopold's and Marshall's insistence on large areas is well known Of course; yet, smaller and smaller areas have been classified. Show (1933) gave a reason why small areas were being classified under Regulation L—ZO in spite of the original wilderness con— , Cept of large areas. He stated that the main reason was to give local people a short-trip opportunity in wilderness near their homes. This, of course, seemed a weak argument in view of the location of most of these small areas with respect to Population centers. Gilligan (1954) later made the point that there seemed to be too few actual large wildernesses and perhaps too many small ones. 156 By far the major point at which wilderness and nonwilderness proponents come to loggerheads is the matter of shape. Wilder— ness Areas usually exist in conjunction with mountainous terrain and watersheds. Hence, topography and biotic associates exist in irregular patterns on the ground. Commercial timber fills in the streamsides and valleys; commercial mineral deposits fleck the fingered ridges at the base of the mountains; logical road access is also up the valleys between the ridges, and developed recreation sites follow the roads. Were it possible to exclude all such alternative uses by drawing a boundary which wound its way in and out of valleys, cutting out ridges here and there, and still avoid conflict, this would be done. However, it is rare that wilderness proponents will stand still for such dismemberment of an otherwise wilderness environment. Hence, the attempt to compromise erupts into "border war" or "boundary conflict." Hence, too, disputed acreages in wilder— ness contests tend to be relatively minor in terms of the total area of wilderness. Brower (1959) and others (Anonymous, 1960) have commented on this aspect of wilderness controversies with the Glacier Peak case used as the classic example. Marshall (1963) reflects both the size and shape problems when he refers t0 the "splinterization" of wilderness in the Selway-Bitterroot reClaSSification case in Mbntana and Idaho in which some 418,000 acres of former Prbmitive Area (22 percent of the Original) were not reclassified as a Wilderness Area. 157 Summary This excursion through the ideological and institutional background of wilderness has been essential for grasping the spirit of the concept of institutionalized wilderness. His- torical concepts of the relationship between man and nature are woven consciously and unconsciously into the warp and woof of wilderness writings and arguments. In a sense, these ideas help us understand the productivity of wilderness, and the "rightness" of allocating land to this purpose. Without these concepts we cannot really understand what the fuss is all about or why decisions are made the way they are with so little apparent tie to a rational ideological base. In short, this material is "data" which helps articulate notions of what we do when we allocate land to wilderness. Leisure concepts must also be understood if we are to have any real insight into "effective demand" for wilderness. Such "data" complement the philosophical "data" referred to above. Wilderness recreation can now be viewed as a very Special recreative activity and as a role—playing outlet for a Particular societal group. It is also important to our understanding to know that Wilderness-~and some other forms of outdoor recreation in the United States--have grown up with the Forest Service. They are, in fact, a permanent fixture in and characterization of the role of the Forest Service as a public land managing agency. It is frequently difficult to discern this, however, in the F VV‘" 158 rhetoric about wilderness—-especially that produced by critics of the Forest Service. Multiple use as a policy for land management, although nebulous as an operational concept (which it was never intended to be), appears to be admirably suited for accommodating wilderness. Finally, it is helpful to be able to place both the Forest Service and wilderness in con- text as elements in our national conservation history. Of particular importance in this overview is the point of View that is permissible after reviewing these parts of our national resource record. To understand institutionalized wilderness it is necessary to understand the mutually supporting roles played by several historical circumstances, including the National Park-National Forest rivalry, the appearance of l dominant personalities espousing the wilderness cause, the rising tide of recreation use on the National Forests and a developing policy to accommodate it, and other related happenstances. Finally, fifteen "recurring themes" in the wilderness argument have been noted which underscore the interdisciplinary nature of the "whole" problem. Economic consequences of allocating otherwise commercially valuable resources to wilder- ness do arise, of course. Also important--perhaps more so—- are the political, psychological, moral and ethical, and cultural consequences. An important, though short, point to be made is that the allocation problem of wilderness Should not be seen as a matter of choosing between economic and noneconomic values. Rather, the choice that is to be made is between land use al— ternatives, each of which has both economic and noneconomic consequences. Thus, the economic and noneconomic consequences must be used together as measures of the relative desirability of alternative land uses. CHAPTER III THE LAND ALLOCATION FRAMEWORK It is too much to ask that this chapter in this report review the entire field of land economics and extract all of those insights which are relevant for this study. Since i this is nevertheless basically a land use study, its kinship with the field seems to require some emphasis. This is attempted here by means of a relatively short survey of some ideas which may have some relevance in the matter of allocating land to a use called here "institutionalized wilderness." Some of the questions which directed this portion of this study were: 1. What point of view can we take of man's formulation of objectives and alternative choices for using land? 2. How may we characterize the criteria of use? 3. What seems to be the relationship between allocating land to institutionalized wilderness and the conse- quences of such allocation in terms of the concept of property in land? 4. What point of View can we take about planning in land use studies? 5. What has been our experience in general with land use planning in the United States? 6. What has been the general Northwest experience in land use planning? 160 7. How might we characterize forest land use planning in the United States? 8. What can we draw out of our national experience with recreation land use planning that seems helpful? 9. What can we conclude about land use planning in general that relates to wilderness land use planning? LandI Man and Aspirations Basically, what man does with land is what man wants to do with land. Yet there are, obviously, more SOphisticated ways of explaining the relationship of man to land, so that we may better understand why it is he does what he does with land. Land as a Resource we can start this sophistication by giving land some characteristics which make it amenable to plugging in to the social production process. First of all, land is such an obvious entity as "ground" that it does not seem worthwhile to expend time and energy describing it. Yet land needs to be Characterized in more detail than this since we do not "use" juSt "ground," but rather we occupy sites with factories and homes; thus, land has space attributes. We employ land to nOurish and support crops and refer to this surface layer of land as soil. Land is minerals too. It also represents Wealth. It is a "place" and it is other things besides. For mOSt purposes desiring a broad characterization, as in this instance, Barlowe's (1958, p. 7) "economic concept of land" can be employed, wherein land is "the sum total of the natural and man-made resources over which possession of the earth's surface gives control." Thus, water, buildings, location, animals, etc. all may come under the name ”land." It is in these respects-—i.e., the characteristics and attributes of land-~that land is considered a resource. In the usual scheme of things, land is one of the major productive resources in combination with the other classes of resources, such as labor, capital and, sometimes included, management. Yet it is one thing to characterize land and another to explain its use. Such explanation involves the use of the threefold framework described in chapter I: (l) the physical and biological framework, (2) the institutional framework, and (3) the economic framework. One will discover that certain kinds of soil are more productive than others for certain crops. One may soon find his liberty to use land restricted by the law because the uses he selects may impinge upon certain rights in all land held jointly with him by his neighbors. Ultimately, too, one will be impressed with the economic con- straints or costs of putting land of particular kinds in particular places to particular uses. Any respectable textbook in land economics stresses these kinds of things about land and its use. However, the point that will be made here relates to the concepts of: (1) user aspirations and (2) user perceptions. These are embodied in the paradigm of figure 2. User Aspirations What one wgpgg to do with resources may be said to be determined by what one imagines or knows the product of such use to be and how much he values this outcome over all others. This is almost axiomatic, but it needs to be stressed in the wilderness context. Keeping this in mind helps eliminate some irrelevancies. For example, no one has ever stated or written, apparently, that a certain amount of land was allocated to wilderness to maximize dollar profit or to reduce opportunity costs to zero. Hence, economic consequences of wilderness land allocation do not make up the usual objective function of wilderness land allocation. Nevertheless, we may still imagine that minimum economic consequences (or costs) may be sought while attaining the objective of allocation. Aspirations or objectives are seldom (if ever) "hatched out of thin air." The Forest Service aspirations for wilder- ness seem to have developed uniquely out of: (l) a sincere desire to determine the uses to which undeveloped back country on the National Forests could be put; (2) the offering of a concept of wilderness by creative individuals such as Aldo Leopold and Robert Marshall; (3) an expression of acceptance (in varying degrees) of recreation, and wilderness, by Forest Service clientele as a purpose of the National Forests; and (4) a political and institutional environment in the form of a recreation land use jurisdictional dispute which provided a means of assigning high value to the wilderness land allo— cation alternative for scenic, undeveloped National Forest back country. User aspirations for wilderness also seem to be related to a certain unique blending of awareness and desires. Some users seek a particular kind of status while others seek the re-creation that only aloneness in a wilderness environment can bring. Other aspirations are mentioned earlier. Where do such aspirations arise? This question is not subject to simple answers. However, the medium for attaining the aspira- tion and its accomplishment is called here "perception." User Perception Some recent literature is beginning to show how the rela- tively obvious concept of perception can be used to systemati- cally understand, anticipate, and therefore manage resource uses. This concept is also related to the paradigm of rationality in figure 2 and also to the discussion of knowledge systems and decision making in chapter I. White (1961) has paid particular attention to flood plain management policies with asides for other resources, such as forests and multiple use management. Resources, he states, are culturally defined and "delimited by human assessment of possible use." He points out that a manager is faced with both a "theoretical" and a "practical" range of choice of alternative actions (or resource processes involving alternative combina- tions of resources). Access to some of the theoretical choices 165 is usually blocked by lack of awareness of some of the alternatives and/or by social restraints which prevent the use of some of them. Lack of awareness (perception) is the result of such things as illiteracy, low educational attain- ment, time lag in the diffusion of new technologies, or lack of precedent in local use of some alternatives. Social re- straints include such things as formal laws and regulations, attitudes, customs, and religious beliefs. White suggests further four major "elements" in the decision making process (evaluation process) used either explicitly or implicitly by resource managers: 1. The quantity and quality of the physical resource. 2. The present value of the gains and losses accruing from future use of the resource. 3. The technological change which might affect future demand, future production, and compatible use com- binations. 4. The relation of any given use to another in contiguous or functionally linked areas. He then suggests that examinations of how the analysis of each <>f these elements is carried forward by the manager reveals "tflne facts, perception, aims, and values upon which...decision is based ." White then proposes a simple two-way tabular display (teable 6) to record the alternative actions and elements of <flnoice in particular decision making cases. It does not .H0¢H «H .02 .Ho> “Humanoh moonsommm Hmuaumz .uemfimmmsmfi mousomou mm mm: mo oofioto oeH .manB “ea Hm .m .H manna Scam kumwv< \w .udo Hoxwa sowmwoov Hemp wHUoB meHuu oaansm uwmu woempwweoo new sweats Hmoflwoaoanomu unonm waHHomm odfismsmm m Scum Baum ou Ho>aomno an canoe mus m>auweamuHm meta mo soauomnwu .m .02 Sues Mama ou mason e .02 smsosuH< "ouoz wouomnoa n m moaoao ou oHano>MMGD n I mowotu some n o topmooom n < moaomo op manmuo>mm n + wowoto voxooan n N < + + + + + o moHHos oaansm .w M . . . . . N soauoouonm pooam .n m . . . . . x udmfioumnm wooam .o < . + + x + o sowuom hoamwumam .m m . + + I + o mwdwso Hausuodaum .q M . u I I + o coauw>mam mama .m m . . . . . x mosmHSmGH .N m . + t + x o mmOH map Hmom .H wagono museuo MMMMMMM mmmflwmwwwo Hwoammwwmwoua oumWMumm HWMHMWMMM musoaumsnwm mo Hmsuo< uwdwu Hmoauouommfi moaotu aw mudoEmHm \H Huang pooam ou o0 MHDNH. explain why the decision was made or how the values were assigned to the elements of choice for each alternative. These are presumably known to the observer. It does, however, pro- vide a record of which alternatives were considered and which elements of choice entered into the decision making process-- no mean accomplishment in any case. Another writer, Firey (1960), describes a threefold framework of criteria for resource perception and use: (1) the ecological, which defines the physically possible resource complex and optimal use occurs at biotic or anthropogenic climax; (2) the ethnological, which defines the culturally adoptable resource complex whose processes are consistent with the outstanding themes of all activities making up a people's culture; and (3) the economic, which defines the gainful resource complex in which optimal resource use is where marginal cost equals marginal revenue. These three frameworks working to- gether circumscribe the actual range of choice of resources and processes open and available to the manager. Firey also raised the issue which faces resource managers (as in the case where wilderness is an alternative) from time to time: Some alterna- tives and processes simply cannot be compared consistently since different value scales are required to measure their respective values. Rates (1962), as White's student, employed the concepts illucidated by White (above) and applied them in empirical research on the decisions made by flood-plain inhabitants in 168 La Follette, Tennessee, and five other cities. Decision making systems used in other natural resource studies are summarized by Rates in terms of: (l) the rationality assumption; (2) the choice process--i.e., whether it was conscious, habitual, or unconscious; (3) the conditions of knowledge; and (4) the evaluation criteria used. These studies supported Kates' preference for an assumption of rationality termed "bounded rationality" which means simply that, for various reasons, one's range of choice is bounded by his perception of alternative actions. The studies--and Kates'—-showed a wide range of knowledge conditions as well as evaluation criteria. The most descriptive term for most actual evaluation criteria, however, appeared to be "satisficing." One most interesting observation devolving from Kates’ study is his characterization of "the prison of experience" which seems to block consideration of the full range of alternative choices. If experience has shown that rags and flour sacks keep the water out, they will suffice again. It is only in areas of great certainty, where elaborate adjustments have evolved by repeated experiences, that one feels that experience has been not a prison, but a teacher. (p. 132) ' Lucas (1964a) has employed the concept of perception in empirical research on the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. He traces Out the development of managers’ perception of the wilderness idea with respect to the Boundary waters Canoe Area, the percep- tiOn of size of area, and the perception of management problems and policies. However, the most interesting application of the 169 concept deals with the perception of wilderness by the user himself. This was noted previously and reflects the wide varia- tion of wilderness perception among classes of users and between the users and the official boundaries of the Wilderness Area. This, of course, is no surprising revelation; but it is virtually the only time this hypothesis has been tested empirically. Elsewhere in forestry, the matter of perception has been explicitly employed. This is particularly noticeable in studies dealing with the so—called "small ownership problem." Quinney (1964) has probably best related this problem to the concept of perception. Essentially, this problem has been one of: (l) per- ceiving the national, regional, and local requirements for wood production from the Nation's commercial forest lands; (2) per- ceiving a role in meeting these requirements for the owner of small-sized tracts of commercial forest (e.g., the farm woodlot); (3) perceiving the owner's management objectives; and (4) per- ceiving alternative programs to motivate these small owners to "fit" themselves into the role perceived for them by others. The "Highest and Best" Use Concept A concise discussion of the "highest and best" use concept is given by Barlowe (1958). This is simply a matter of formula— ting a point of view about phgp one has achieved his land use 0bjectives. It thus implies the development of criteria, Presumably implying also optimum attainment of objectives. Barlowe (1958, p. 13) writes that "Land resources are at their highest and best use when they are used in such a manner as to ! I l70 provide an optimum return to their operators or to society." Criteria for optimum thus becomes the object of inquiry. Castle (1964, p. 285) has observed that An optimum may be defined as a state of affairs that re- sults in the most favorable degree, condition, or amount of some desirable magnitude, property, or attribute. The definition, as such, says nothing about what the desirable "magnitude, property, or attribute" might be. Nor does it suggest how these are to be specified or achieved. We find, in this context then, that the admonition to manage National Forest lands for "the greatest good to the greatest number in the long run" defines an optimum; but, like Castle's definition, it does not specify the criteria. This is not meant to be derogatory for as Barlowe (1958, p. 15) states as well as anyone, ..the concept of highest and best use is at most a relative concept. It provides a worthy objective in land use. But it is a goal that man must continually strive toward and one that he has little hope of ever attaining in an absolute sense. Optimum Economic Use Optimum economic use of land resources may be defined variously. One criterion is to use land in those amounts that result in marginal cost equal to marginal revenue in the rele— vant range of product output. At this point in resource use and product output, net return (the surplus of revenue over cOsts) is maximized. Another criterion is to employ those amounts of land up to that point at which marginal factor cost jUSt equals marginal value product. This, too, maximizes the net return or "profit." Another criterion might be to use 171 just enough land to produce a specified output of product at the least cost. Other economic criteria may be envisioned. Each of these criteria for optimum economic use of land resources carries with it a whole host of assumptions about resource productivity at various levels of combination with other resources, price and value relationships to quantities of product or productive factors consumed, tastes and preferences of consumers, the state of the productive arts and technologies, legal institutions, level of knowledge of markets for inputs and products by con- sumers and producers, motivations of consumers and producers, etc. Just what these criteria really mean, how they are developed, what kind of data might be required to plug into the various models which may be devised-~these are the subjects of economics textbooks. Just how these concepts apply to land resources is the subject of land economics. The point of this short section, however, is to simply point out that economics does provide one set of criteria that guide land uses toward some optimum. Optimizing in Multiple Use Management In 1938, Dr. Siegfried von Ciriacy—Wantrup published an article entitled ”Multiple and Optimum Use of Wild Land Under Different Economic Conditions" in the Journal of Forestry (Ciriacy4Wantrup, 1938). This is a landmark attempt to expli- Citly apply joint production economic concepts to the concept of multiple use in forestry. In this cursory analysis, Ciriacy- Wantrup distinguished between two concepts of multiple use: 172 "first, the administration or management of several uses of wild land by a single agency, and, second, the use of a single unit (acre) of wild land for several purposes." With regard to the first concept, he felt that this was where the strength of the multiple use concept lay. There could be, he reasoned, significant ”overhead cost" savings in main— taining one—agency administration of several uses on Wildland. With regard to the second concept of multiple use, it was his judgment that multiple use as a policy might prove to be inappropriate. What suited the case better, he argued, was the concept of optimum use. The objective of optimum use would be to maximize "social production.”&9/ Because of the relationships between uses (i.e., complementarity, supplementarity, and competi— tiveness), total social production might be less when all or many uses were permitted than when only one or a few were allowed. Thus, optimum use may call for only one or few of many possible uses on an acre. Furthermore, due to changes in prices and other expressions of social value, these relationships and use ranking and proportioning must change over time. Although the article by Ciriacy-Wantrup appears to be the fiI‘St of its kind, the most concise economic treatment of joint PrOduction theory and multiple use explicitly to date is that \_—__ £9] Presumably, maximum net dollar return might be only one meaSure of social product although the rationale remains the same. t is this economic logic of choice stemming from joint produc- t1°n theory, whether dollar values are used or not--and they are not in this exPlanation of the rationale by Ciriacy-Wantrup, that gives this article its landmark position. 173 by Gregory (1955). Gregory begins by broadly defining multiple use as "using a particular land area to produce more than one good or service." Wildland is considered analogous to the firm and the analysis proceeds as if it were a multiproduct firm. He illustrates the problem geometrically with a two—product case-- forage and timber yields——using traditional isocost and isorevenue curves to define the expansion path (or path of least cost com- binations in the joint production of forage and timber). He then demonstrates the determination of the high profit point geometrically. Subsequently, he shows how the method is expanded mathematically to handle more than one product. While this is not new to agricultural production economists, he suggests that it might be to foresters. Gregory also suggests using the slope of the isorevenue line at its point of tangency with an isocost line (marking the cost situation of a particular combination of uses deemed to be "about right”) to derive the economic value (opportunity cost really) of a particular "intangible” resource or use such as wildlife or recreation. Black (1963) later applied joint production analysis to determine optimum economic levels of timber production and water Production empirically. His study area consisted of a portion 0f the Denver, Colorado, watershed. Calculations were made for a number of alternative timber rotations and cutting cycles showing the estimated water and timber yields for each. Discount- ing was employed to obtain present values. The result led to 174 recommendations for a particular rotation (130 years) with a particular cutting cycle depending upon rate of discount used (13 years with 3 percent and 9 years with 6 percent). Black's empirical work is also important for the insights it yields not only into the applicability of traditional eco- nomic theory, but also into the problems that are encountered in isolating relevant data to plug into the model. For example, "price" water in a manner equivalent to timber stumpage how can we values in such a study? Furthermore, what about the other values that are affected by the alternative management schemes-- especially the intangibles such as recreation? How can these be accounted for? Finally, what do you do when there are no readily available cost, yield, and revenue data to work with? Do we forestall decisions until such data are collected; or can we extrapolate from experience elsewhere to provide at least a beginning judgment for management planning? Although this discussion has stressed economic optimizing, it is readily apparent that values other than the economic values become involved in land use decisions. A city may maintain a closed watershed in the belief that to do otherwise would create more problems than would be solved, even though judicious timber and recreation use could provide timber revenues, increase water yields, provide another service for its citizenry, and have a negligible impact on water quality. Timberland owners may value their timber for its esthetic yield rather than finan— Cial yield. Etc. 175 With a backward glance, then, at the concept of multiple use, the rationality discussion of chapter I, the definition of op- timum and any number of "real life” cases of decision making, multiple use optimizing ceases to have meaning without more of a context than itself. Objectives of multiple use management must be precisely stated, criteria supplied, and data needs and analytical devices carefully evaluated if effective, objective, and explicit multiple use planning is to be accomplished. Public vs. Private Objectives One issue that is customarily raised is the degree to which optimum allocation of land resources might be different under public and private sets of optimizing criteria. Broadly charac- terized, these two sets of criteria are: (1) private criteria for the optimum specify maximizing net "benefits" to the indivi- dual; and (2) public criteria for the optimum specify maximiz- ing net "social" benefits to the public as an aggregation of all individuals. Two formal conceptual bodies of thought and research accOmmodate this presumed dichotomy: (1) the concept of property and (2) welfare economics. Both of these are discussed below. At this juncture, a few more general observations are offered. It is possible by simple intuition and casual observation t0 presume that there really is a difference between complete individual liberty and maximum social welfare. Human experi- ence thus far does not suggest that maximum welfare results by adding up all individual welfares under conditions of complete 176 individual liberty. In fact, we may observe that complete in- dividual liberty, in the sense of absence of constraints on individual actions, has probably never existed anyway. Economic and social control is simply not uniformly distributed. It tends to cluster around individuals and groups with propitious combinations of talents and circumstances. For various reasons units of ”welfare” (goods, services, amenities) are not so abundant that they are free goods. Hence, individuals and groups compete between and among themselves for them. In this struggle some individuals and groups must come off ”second best." The extent to which such "losers" are allowed to lose becomes a (if not the) central issue in identifying criteria for public welfare. Minimum welfare standards thus become formally or informally formulated. Because individual "winners,” so this rationale might run, have no mandate to enforce these Standards, the public as a whole must assume this responsibility. Hence, public agencies for administering and reformulating such Starldards "in the public interest” arise. This does not mean, however, as Penn (1961) has pointed out, that public agency actions are the only ones which yield net public benefits. On the contrary, it can be demonstrated in various instances that private enterprise and initiative is the appropriate agent for welfare production. Ostrom (1961), among Others, suggests the criteria of: (l) packageability and (2) aPPropriability to judge whether a good is amenable to private, E 177 market allocationhfll/ Together these make up the requirements of the "exclusion principle" which makes a market economy meaningful. If the exclusion criterion applies, then a private firm may feasibly be considered an alternative agent for manag— ing or allocating resources. To the extent that private manage- ment yields maximum net public benefits (perhaps performing a prescribed service at prescribed levels of quality at the lowest possible cost) compared with other alternatives, including the least cost Government alternative, then such an alternative should seem to be employed. The exclusion principle may also make certain Government activities feasible as well. More specific distinctions between public and private roles in resource management and development can be developed, of course. However, just what the actual "menu," as Rolph and Break (1961) call it, of Government services will be depends on certain principles held by the electorate on what constitutes "the good life." Certain activities, such as national defense, Public schools, hospitals, police forces, monetary systems, art museums, etc. are undertaken as joint public ventures be— cause it is presumed that benefits accrue to all and too few could afford to pay the whole bill. Having these services Prommtes "the good life." -————__________ él/ "Packageability" infers differentiation as a commodity or service so that it can be readily purchased or sold in a market economy. "Appropriability" means that a commodity or Service is subject to the legal claim of a property right which Vests control in the owner vis a vis other possible claimants and users. 178 The never-ending search for that combination of social inputs into the social welfare production function that describes the optimum point on the social welfare expansion path underscores the dynamic nature of social planning. Land policy history in the United States, embodied in the changing attitudes and programs for the disposal of the public domain, show this dynamic characteristic. The evolving purposes of the National Forests also reflect it. The exact line between public and private development and management of resources may also be expected to shift its position from time to time. The Implications of the Concept of Property One concept, which provides a structure for thinking about the various interests—-and interpersonal relationships-~of people in land, is ”property." Institutional activities, such as classifying land as wilderness, influence these relation- ships by readjusting access to certain rights in landed 13roperty. This is briefly discussed below. Tflne "Bundle of Rights" Concept Walton and Till (1933, p. 528) elegantly write of property that it "is a euphonious collocation of letters which serves as a general term for the miscellany of equities that persons hold in the commonwealth.” In further explanation it is related that it is not the thing that matters, but rather what 179 society lets the owner extract from it. An entertaining but concise history of the origin of the concept is also provided by these authors. Ely (1914) explained that property meant distribution of rights and thus signified the distinction between thine and mine. The ”essence" of this concept was to be found in "the relations among men arising out of their relations to things." Property, Ely held, was control over the rights in things or "an exclusive right to control an economic good...;” hence, free goods could not be relevant to the property concept and .the thing itself was not really relevant--only the rights which extend over it. Furthermore, as property has come to be recognized, so Ely and the history of its evolution tell us, it implies the assent of the state and has two sides: the individual and the social. Noyes (1936) refers to all of the interests that may be held by individuals in property as a "bundle of rights," and liarris (1958) refers to land tenure as the concept which (iefines the ”bundle" actually held by any individual. ”Tenure System," as defined by Harris (p. 278), "is concerned with all Of the relationships established among men regarding their Varying rights in the control and use of the land." These include the standard forms of right-holding (or estate) in land as fee simple ownership, easements, "homesteads," mortgages, leases, etc. 180 In the case of public ownership of landed property, i.e. Federal "ownership," as in the case of the National Forests, almost absolute rights are vested in the agency which acts in the name of all the people. However, as Barlowe (1958, p. 340) points out, "The rights they hold...are definitely limited by public opinion and by various reservations of pub- lic economic and social policy." Superimposed on these concepts is the matter of access. This in turn raises the question of the purpose of acquiring control over property. To illustrate, we can cite Berle's (1959) study of the separation of economic power from property in large corporations. Stockholders own stock and control property; but corporate managers and minority blocs of stockholders may actually have greater access to the fruits of the property than the majority of stockholders. Raup (1956) argues that what tenure policy really should be concerned with, therefore, is not so much access to control of property in the usual sense, but access to the fruits of labor and land--i.e., control over the product of land. Tenure and the National Forests The broad bundle of rights vested in the public lands, such as the National Forests, are theoretically equally shared by all citizens of the Nation. Yet, in order to secure these rights for all, the administering agency is compelled to employ certain restrictions of individual liberties in the use of these public properties. These restrictions--tenure 181 arrangements——are outlined in each of the numerous laws by which the National Forests are administered. Some of these are reviewed below and are found in section 1020 of the Forest Service Manual.£3/ General administration.—-The Creative Act of March 3, 1891 (26 stat. 1103; 16 U.S.C. 471), authorized the President of the United States to establish National Forests on land reserved to the Federal Government. The act, as amended (Sec. 24), gave to the Secretary of Agriculture the authority to manage these reser- vations under "such rules and regulations...for the use and occupancy" of such lands as may be deemed appropriate. Viola- tion of such rules and regulations are considered misdemeanors and can incur fines up to $500 and/or imprisonment of not more than 1 year. The Organic Administration Act of June 4, 1897 (30 stat. 34), as amended (16 U.S.C. 473, 474-482, 551; 76 stat. 1157) SCmnewhat clarified the purposes for which the National Forests collld be created; provided authority to the President to alter bOundaries or vacate already established National Forests; autflnorized the Secretary of Agriculture to permit under his own regulationséé/ the use of timber and stone found on the National Forests free of charge to "bonafide" settlers, prospectors, x».— 53/ U.S. Forest Service. Forest Service Manual. Dept. Agn, Wash., D.C. 1958. éfi/ These Secretary‘s regulations are discussed in the following chapter. 182 miners, or residents; gave "actual" settlers within the bound— aries of these Forests rights of ingress and egress; allowed any person to enter and use the National Forests "for all proper and lawful purposes, including that of prospecting, locating, and developing the mineral resources thereof" subject to the rules and regulations governing the use of the National Forests; schoolhouses and churches of settlers resid- ing within the Forest boundaries were permitted; the states were allowed to retain their jurisdiction in certain unspecified respects; waters of the National Forests were permitted to be used for domestic, agricultural, and industrial uses subject to state laws; authorized the Secretary of Agriculture to "...make such rules and regulations and establish such service as will insure the objects of such reservations, namely, to regulate their occupancy and use and to preserve the forests thereon from destruction...." The Transfer Act of February 1, 1905 (33 stat. 628; 16 U.S.C. 472), transferred jurisdiction of the National Forests from the Department of the Interior to the Department of Agriculture, with the gxgeption of those laws and acts pertain- ing thereto which affect the surveying, prospecting, locating, appropriating, entering, relinquishing, reconveying, certifying, 0r patenting any such lands. It is this separation of juris— diction that has prevented complete closure of Wilderness Areas on the National Forests to commercial activities. 183 One other early general act which influences the access of the "public" to the product of National Forest land is the act of May 23, 1908 (35 stat. 260), as amended (16 U.S.C. 500). This, the "Receipts to States" Act, provides that 25 percent of all moneys received from the sale of National Forest products and services during every fiscal year shall be paid to the state within which such lands lie. These funds are to be expended by the state legislature for public schools and public roads in the counties in which the National Forest lands are located. Minerals.--The acceSS of the public to minerals on the National Forests has preSented a particular problem to the Forest Service in its administration of Wilderness Areas, and, as will be shown later, has influenced the classification decisions themselves. This stems from the retention of general mineral rights administration on National Forest lands by the Department of the Interior as provided by the Transfer Act of 1905. This jurisdictional division is generally maintained by succeeding acts pertaining to mining on the National Forests.éfl/ The fl/ The Act of March 4, 1917 (39 stat. 1150; 16 U.S.C. 520), gives jurisdiction of mineral rights on acquired or pur‘ chased National Forest lands to the Secretary of the Interior. The Mineral Leasing Act of February 5, 1920 (41 stat. 437), as amended (30 U.S.C. 181), included National Forests in its release of coal, phosphate, sodium, potassium, oil, oil shale, or gas to public prospecting and claim under the general min- ing laws. The act of July 31, 1947 (61 stat. 681; 30 U.S.C. 601-603), provided that the Secretary of Agriculture could sell 184 Materials Disposal Act of July 23, 1955 (69 stat. 367), as amended (30 U.S.C. 601, 603, 611-615; 76 stat. 652), otherwise known as the "Multiple Use Mining Law," provided that "No de- posit of common varieties of sand, stone, gravel, pumice, pumi- cite, or cinders, and no deposit of petrified wood shall be deemed a valuable mineral deposit within the meaning of the mining laws of the United States...." This, with other pro- visions of the act, gave the Department of Agriculture substan- tially strengthened jurisdiction over surface resources of the National Forests. However, "valuable mineral deposits" such as gold, silver, copper, etc. are still subject to exploration and claim under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Interior. Hunting and fishing.—-Hunting and fishing are two activities carried on extensively in wilderness-type areas on the National Forests. These activities are generally permitted under the Organic Administration Act of June 4, 1897 (cited above), sub- ject to state laws and regulations governing the taking of game and fish, and subject to such other rules and regulations for the occupancy and use of such lands as prescribed by the Secretary of Agriculture. The Enforcement of Laws Act of May 23, 1908 (35 stat. 259; 16 U.S.C. 553), provides that officials M or otherwise "dispose of" such common minerals found on the National Forests as sand, stone, gravel, pumice, cinders, and clay_ The Mineral Leasing Act for Acquired Lands of August 7, 1947 (61 stat. 913; 30 U.S.C. 351—359), extended the "mineral leaSing laws" to all lands acquired by the United States. 185 of the Forest Service, who are so designated by the Secretary of Agriculture, will aid in the enforcement of state and territorial law which deals with the protection of fish and game. The Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act of March 10, 1934 (48 stat. 401), as amended (16 U.S.C. 661-664), is principally concerned with any water resource development program with fish and wildlife impacts, such as major stream diversions and impoundments; and it authorizes the Secretary of the Interior to cooperate with all Federal, state, and private agencies effecting such projects - in the interest of conserving fish and wildlife resources. The Fish and Game Sanctuaries Act of March 10, 1934 (48 stat. 400), as amended (16 U.S.C. 694, 694a-b), provides that the Secretary of Agriculture may recommend certain designated areas on the National Forests as fish and game sanctuaries or refuges. Hunt- ing, fishing, trapping, etc. are not permitted in such areas. Wild horse and burrow hunting or killing on all public lands, by means of aircraft or motor vehicle, is expressly prohibited by the act of September 8, 1959 (73 stat. 470; 18 U.S.C. 47). Finally, the Multiple Use—~Sustained Yield Act of June 12, 1960 (74 stat. 215; 16 U.S.C. 528-531), declares broadly that the National Forests are to be administered for wildlife and fish, among other purposes. Land Use Planning and Studies in the United States "Wébster's New Collegiate Dictionary" (Merriam, 1961) tells us that a plan is a "Method or scheme of action, procedure or arrangement; project, program, outline or schedule." Within this definition lies a world of interpretation. A plan might be as simple as realizing on a trek in the wilderness that one is tired and, on the basis of this information, selecting a comfortable trailside Spot and sitting dOWn. 0n the other hand, a year of "planning" may have been required for this adventure. During this time the area was selected, time of year was decided upon, equipment and supplies were tested and procured, and physical conditioning of the hikers was implemented. As a matter of fact, it is difficult to imagine any action that is not planned, although it is not customary to regard unconscious reaction to such stimuli as pain as planned action. Yet, it can be argued that this, too, is really planned as a kind of programed response of the body requiring learning and, hence, planning. If there is one consistent threat in the concept of planning, it must be that planning implies some rational relationship between objectives and actions taken to meet these objectives. In view of the wide range of possibilities in the face of real-life cases, the value of broad abstract definitions 0f plans and planning seems relatively limited. What seems more valuable is to approach each case or class of cases individually. 187 In this study, an attempt is made to characterize rural land use planning in the United States. It was hoped that this encounter with the mainstreams of rural land use planning would yield insights for the special kind of land use planning repre- sented by wilderness. However, the record of such planning becomes so vast upon even casual inspection, and the inferences about planning so broad, that a complete exhumation of the field has little merit. Therefore, only a few trends, programs, and studies are noted. Some Overall Land Use Planning Concepts One report concludes, after an examination of planning for land use in the United States during the forepart of the 20th century (Joint Committee on Bases of Sound Land Policy, 1929, p. 136), that, "Land-planning consists of substituting intelli- gently directed utilization in place of haphazard development and use." Anticipation of needs and objectives for planning is important in this view. The monumental study of land utilization in northern Minnesota during the 1930's by Jessness and Nowell (1935) echoed the needs-anticipation of the "Delano Report" (cited above). It emphasized that land classification is a preventive measure in the sense of preventing past "mistakes" from reoccurring. Barnes (1936) stressed the idea of "use—capabilities" of land as the basis for land classification and planning. This in 188 turn implied that lands should be studied and classified accord- ing to specific purposes or objectives of use. A number of concepts in land use planning were mulled over by the First National Conference on Land Classification (Hammar, 1940). Kelso (1940) offered several comments on land classifi- cation in general and the role of the economist in particular. Again, purpose of classification must be specified. Classifica- tion was considered, therefore, "exclusively pragmatic” and only pragmatic tests can be used in evaluating it." The role of the economist, argued Kelso, was principally to "indicate lines of change in patterns of land use and related institutions" based upon specified criteria for maximizing "total social net returns." His criteria, or "stipulations," were in turn based upon those of Weeks and Josephson (1939) which were related to (1) operating costs, (2) maintenance of resources for future generations, (3) the pattern of income distribution in the local area, (4) ability to match costs with income, (5) reduction of damages to resources and property outside the area as a result of resource misuse inside the area, and (6) stability of community institu- tions. At about this same period Kepner (1940) described land use Planning as a process with essentially four parts: 1. Problem analysis. Systematically and cooperatively analyze those problems which have land use implications. 189 2. Establish objectives. Determine the adjustments that should be made and goals to be attained. 3. Select means. 4. Take action. Later, John D. Black (1955, p. 5) suggested, after much experience in the planning movements prior to World War II, that there were really two basic principles of land use planning. The first of these principles was, "the real and final objective is the optimum use of the human resources on the land, in optimum balance with the other human resources of the nation." The second basic principle offered by Black (p. 6) was, "all planning is for some kind of operating unit, and to furnish a basis for a decision by the operators of the unit." The idea of the operating unit became embodied in a series of Harvard seminars in Land Use and Conservation.&§/ This concept implies essentially to approach resource problems as a problem of the firm operating within a defined institutional, biological, and economic setting. Finally, Barlowe's (1958) discussion of these concepts can be consulted, for it adds the ingredient of property which provides 52/ The planning unit and operating unit concepts are elaborated upon in a series of "Planning Unit Papers" edited by H- Ayers Brinser, processed as a product of the Harvard Seminar in Conservation and Land Use in 1958. They are also found in a Doctor of Public Administration thesis at Harvard by Arnold W. Belle, 1959, entitled "The Basis of Multiple Use Management of Public Lands in the North Fork of the Flathead River, Montana." filso see the mimeographed paper by H. Ayers Brinser, circa 1960, A Systematic Approach to the Analysis of Natural Resource Policy," 17 pp. 190 a rationale for public land use planning. He points out that property rights of owners are exclusive, not absolute (even though alodial), and that society at large has a strong vested interest in the manner in which land resources are used. Disposal of the Public Domain National policies and programs for the disposition of the public domain lands are often referred to as indicators of the dynamic nature of land policies. They are thus useful for illustrating changes in land use planning objectives. Smith (1913) pointed out that our early land laws for promoting the settlement and development of the public domain required "segregation of the lands into classes according to their character." The principle usually stated was that each tract of public land was to be allocated to the purpose for which it was best suited. Land laws required the distinction between "mineral" and "nonmineral" lands, and the Enlarged Homestead Act of February 19, 1909 (35 stat. 639), for example, required that several such classes of land (mineral, forest, and irrigable) be recognized and excluded before selected lands could be entered and homesteaded. Donaldson's (1884) earlier review of public domain history provides a compendium of similar examples. Hill's (1910) monograph deals with the manner in which objectives of our laws for disposal of the public domain re- flected the political philosophy of the Nation, requiring possession and cultivation of the vast reaches of the western frontier by the citizens. What once had been regarded as a source of revenue became instead a source of national expansion and political strength; and by 1909 a new trend was apparent: the reservation of land to the public as an outgrowth of the Conservation Movement. Hibbard (1939, pp. 548-549) comments thus, As one goes over the history of the public domain legis— lation for the first half century, say prior to 1841, the question will no doubt be brought up concerning the basis of action. was it the result of any recognizable plan, or did the separate acts result from the sheer necessity of compromise on the part of contending forces on each separate occasion? ' a o u o ' While...there were many individuals with interesting, even excellent, ideas on how the public domain should be administered, it cannot be said that a conscious policy worthy of the name existed. It was rather a series of expedient actions put into practice from time to time which must perforce be gathered together, classified as best they may be, and called the public policies, not forgetting that from 1784 to 1900 there was a strong popular belief that the land ought to be free to the settler. This was strengthened by the still more popular belief within the confines of all new states and territories that settlement was to be desired above and beyond all other considerations. Major Planning and Study Efforts Barlowe (1958) provides a concise reference to the major land use planning "movements" and programs in the United States during the present century. Salter's (1948) critique of land use studies in the United States is also a valuable source of characterization for the purposes of this study. These two sources and some supplemental references provide the framework for this discussion. 192 Broadly speaking, the Conservation Movement and the de- velopment of agricultural and land economics research programs at the agricultural colleges and experiment stations carried the brunt of pioneering in rural land use and classification studies during the first two decades of 20th-century America. Changes in homestead laws reflected changes in the perception of classes of farming lands; new and vigorous Government agencies implemented conservation ideologies in land use pro- grams; and the rise of a gifted few to leadership in a subbranch of economics, coupled with concern over past land use practices (e.g., the cutover lands of Michigan), led to new land use research programs. Salter (1948) remarks on the "tremendous about-face in attitudes regarding land and farm production needs" following World War I. A major report in the 1924 "Yearbook of Agriculture" reflected this turning away from a land-shortage hypothesis to a sort of cautious optimism with the estimate that we had enough land to support a population of 350 million by "assuming extreme economies in land use and consumption" (Gray, 25 El: 1924). Presumably, this changing attitude meant that land development at any cost was no longer necessary. We could now afford to more prudently consider alternatives. The postwar recession coupled with earlier failures of western irrigation projects strengthened the appreciation for the need to more carefully evaluate and plan land uses. A key venture during this period was the establishment in 1922 of the 193 Michigan Land Economic Survey which endured for 11 years. What to do with sometime farmland in the pine choppings which was reverting to the public domain for tax delinquency posed a puzzler to Michiganders. Titus (1945) and Barlowe (1951) vividly describe the genesis of this concern and the develop— ment of technical and institutional programs for coping with the problem. Throughout this period, the emphasis was upon fact and data gathering as an adjunct to classifying land with the eventual purpose of recommending desirable land uses. As late as 1929, however, Weeks (1929) was complaining that land use planning and research was still "a 'no man's land' and everybody's ambition." Although many county and regional planning groups were springing up prior to the "New Deal" administration (Cole and Crowe, 1937), the period from 1932 to the advent of Wbrld war II is particularly notable for the county, regional, and national land use planning and programs which arose. This era is the subject of much debate and has been fully described and critiqued elsewhere (Gross, 1943; Lilienthal, 1944; Banfield, 1952; Hardin, 1952; McKinley, 1952; Schlesinger, 1958; and McConnell, 1959). These insightful references make it possible to understand the origins, problems, and failures of particular programs. A relatively small sample of 75 of the various land classi- fication efforts of the period was summarized by a 1941 report of the Land Committee of the National Resources Planning Board 194 (Land Committee, 1941). Of these 75, 68 employed a single one of five types of categories established by the summary to charac- terize land classification. The dominating category was "Type 1: Land Classification in Terms of Inherent Characteristics." The natural or inherent characteristics most intensively treated were soils and topography. Such classification efforts were viewed as valuable because they helped prescribe the physical limits of use. The 75 projects summarized in this report generally included elements of more than one class of classification studies, however. Fifty—three projects included type II classification—- "Land Classification in Terms of Present Use." Type III classi~ fication, "Land Classification in Terms of Use Capabilities," was also incorporated in 53 projects. "Land Classification in ' or type IV classification, was found Terms of Recommended Use,‘ in only 25 projects, while only 11 projects contained type V classification—-"Land Classification in Terms of Program Effectu- ation." The latter category referred to planning that had gone so far as to specify "when" and "how" land use recommendations were to be put into effect. Typical projects in this last cate- gory were those conducted by the National Park Service and the U.S. Forest Service on the National Parks and National Forests. Following Wbrld War II, interest in regional analyses has intensified and spatial or locational studies have been resur‘ rected. River basin studies and interindustry relations studies have proven particularly popular. Essentially, what seems to be 195 happening is that analysts are attempting to become more ana- lytical rather than merely descriptive. The attempt is being made more and more to employ explicit and sophisticated models of rationality (e.g., input-output analysis and economic base studies) to bridge the gap from resource description to recommended resource uses. In some respects, wilderness land use planning may be likened to the descriptive land use studies of the 1920's and 1930's. Some objectives of wilderness land classification are known and objectives are conceded to be important in the classification process. Furthermore, physical characteristics of potential Wilderness Areas can be described. Still missing, however, are sophisticated and explicit tools of decision making which one can follow to transcend simple description. Decisions are nevertheless made as they were in earlier land classification studies; however, the bridge from description to action is difficult to discern for many. Two Critiques Leonard A. Salter, Jr.'s critique of research in land economics up to World war II (Salter, 1948) is an excellent starting point for forming a point of view about our national experience with land use studies. His heroic analysis of approximately 500 separate research publications covering a 40-year span of experience in land economics research yielded many insightful implications for social science research on landed property and its use. Essentially, Salter finds most of these studies devoid of coherent scientific method. Recommenda- tions for adjustments in land uses were only tenuously, if at all, explicitly related to the descriptive materials in the reports on the studies. A particularly glaring deficiency was the apparent inability of those conducting the studies to formulate hypotheses for testing--the critical mark of well- directed scientific methodology for Salter. An addendum to Salter’s critique has been provided by Kelso (1962). In his review of the period critiqued by Salter, Kelso (p. 24) observes: Much of this early research was descriptive in character. It rarely was explanatory in the sense that it uncovered functional relationships making it possible to predict the course of change. It was frequently concerned with recommendations as to "ac- tions" to correct "problems" but, characteristically, such recommendations usually were based on ad hoc normative assumptions. Recommendations for land use and tenure changes were arrived at by comparing what the description showed to be the actual course of events with what the normative assumption showed to be an ideal or appropriate course; recommended actions were those that would (or might) bring the actual more into keeping with the norms. Research into whether these norms were those which the actors rather than the observers held were noticeably absent. Kelso's summary of land economics research following World war II suggests that great strides have been made in research on the spatial aspects of land use. Most studies, he suggests, are really concerned with utilization of l particular "space units.“fl§/ Kelso distinguishes between those studies dealing with: (l) utilization in space with time implicit and (2) utilization in time with space implicit. In the first case we find: 1. Spatial equilibrium models. 2. Land utilization inventories. 3. Interuse competition within given space units. 4. Interspace competitions of the same use. Category 3 above would incorporate some of the kind of conflict represented in wilderness classification cases. Dealing with utilization in time, space implicit, also i suggests four classes of studies: 1. Rotational uses of resources. 2. Economics of conservation. 3. Public vs. private development. 4. Economics of resource development. One of Kelso's more relevant observations is that, "So far, no study has been made in which conservational decision-making has been central to the explanation of the existing pattern of uses in an area." (p. 33) éé/ According to Kelso, "...‘1and' is 'space' with whatever resource content, altered or unaltered, it contains." Capital becomes land for the purposes of land economics analysis when it is incorporated in the "space unit." Time is also an aspect of the three-dimensional space unit. Resource content of these space units may be transient in nature or by virtue of man's actions. Land Use Planning and Studies in the Northwest The Pacific Northwest has shared in national planning efforts; but it has also acquired unique experiences in planning, largely as the result of resource development acti- vities whose center of gravity is the Columbia River. A number of Federal, state, and local agencies are or have participated in these planning efforts. Largely because of the influence of the Columbia Basin, however, efforts have tended to be regionally oriented and have also been marked by the promotion of interagency coordination within the region. These characteristics have been nurtured by the TVA-spawned appeal of comprehensive river basin development, but without going so far as a single development and planning "authority." Two major studies of this Northwest planning experience are those of McKinley (1952) and Bessey (1963). Much of the following discussion is based on these studies. Prior to the New Deal era of planning, major land use studies in the Pacific Northwest were concerned with the development of the water resources of the Columbia and its tributaries, such as the Willamette, for irrigated agriculture and power production. Navigation of the mainstem of the Columbia and proposed lateral canals also influenced land planning studies. Forest land use planning was also well underway largely because of the existence of the National Forests in the region. .. . ...asqnnq 199 In 1934 the Pacific Northwest Regional Planning Commission was formed. Represented on the commission were the planning boards of the States of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana. This was a venture endorsed by the National Planning Board to initiate a series of planning projects. This group assisted in implementing the 1932 "308" report of the Corps of Engineers on the Columbia River which recommended a lO-dam system for the mainstem. The relationship of the Northwest to other sections of the country during this period is clearly seen in the series of studies by the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Resettlement Administration. The severe drought and dust storms of the 1930‘s in the Plains States resulted in strong in-migration in the west coast and Northwest States. The PENN Regional Planning Council, at the request of the President through the National Resources Committee, also undertook a study of migration and associated land problems in the Northwest. These studies had as general objectives the preparation of county-by~county guidelines to direct the settlement and use of rural lands. The Curry County, Oregon, report (Resettlement Administration, 1936) is representative of these studies. The purpose of the study was to formulate a plan upon which to base future expansion and rural settlement. Land was divided into three classes: (1) agriculture, (2) range, and (3) forest. Extensive criteria were given for each class; but the most important seemed to be: 200 l. Agriculture—-land must be flat, near markets, and capable of producing crops. 2. Grazing-~land that is not agricultural land and will support grazing. 3. Forest-—all lands left over from previous classifi— cation. Lands which contained merchantable tracts of timber were not classed as grazing land, and all lands with natural beauty or recreation values which would be significantly damaged by grazing were also excluded from this category. The study then mapped the designated classes of land and attempted to estimate the impact on the county of carrying out these land uses. In the final paragraph of the report, the need for comparing the economic returns from uses alternative to those already imposed by classification on the county lands is suggested. Two studies of particular relevance during this period were undertaken by the Washington State Planning Council (1936 and 1940). One study attempted to evaluate the proposed Mount Olympus National Park and tended to favor park establish- ment with some minor adjustments in boundaries based on rather vague reasons. The second study also attempted to evaluate a proposed National Park—-this time in the Cascade Mountains. In this instance, the Council built upon an earlier citizen's study sponsored jointly by the Departments of Agriculture and Interior. The Council recommended strongly that these lands 201 be managed under the principles of multiple use (most of the area proposed for the park was National Forest land) and not designated as a National Park. The Pacific Northwest Regional Planning Council was abandoned with the demise of the National Resources Planning Board in 1943. Bessey (1963) attributes the collapse of these programs to a number of factors, but chiefly to "the traditional American separation of powers doctrine and Congressional- ' The significant contribution of this Executive rivalry.‘ experience seems to have been a predilection, in the face of no absolute authority in such matters, to rely upon interagency cooperation through such groups as the old Northwest Regional Council which existed from 1938 to 1944 solely for the purpose of providing an information clearinghouse. This agency was, interestingly enough, an independent and unofficial body incorporated under the State laws of Oregon, financed by a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation, and staffed with a Wide variety of discipline-oriented personnel. The overall planning concept spearheaded by national programs was broken following 1943 and resulted in what Bessey calls "fragmented and autonomous" cooperation in regional planning. During this period, action and construction agen- cies carried through on their own, cooperating informally and then more formally after the 1946 formation of the Columbia Basin Inter-Agency Committee. This Committee was authorized by the Federal Inter-Agency River Basin Committee, "Firebrick," 202 1 a loose interagency alliance of the Departments of war, Agriculture, Interior, and the Federal Power Commission, in order to coordinate river basin investigations and planning. Since its inception, the Columbia Basin Inter-Agency Committee has served as a clearinghouse for information and planning of Basin agencies. It seems to have served well in this capacity in spite of being strictly a voluntary organization without an independent head, staff, or review powers. The period of Northwest regional planning from 1953 to 1963 has been characterized by Bessey as one of countervailing trends. For example, the abolishment of the Program Staff of the Department of the Interior and its replacement with the Technical Review Staff was interpreted as a significant philosophical recasting of viewpoint: from a broad concern for the future to a primary concern with selected aspects of accomplished action. This, according to Bessey again, had a striking impact on the work of the Bonneville Power Administration, the regional planning and marketing agency for power produced at Federal hydropower plants in the Columbia Basin. The dampen- ing of this agency’s work was attributed principally to the so—called "partnership policy" of the new administration, which favored expansion of power production and marketing using private utilities wherever it could be accomplished by these means. The implications of Bessey's review suggest a resurgence of overall integrated planning and resource development with 203 the change in administrations in 1961. The creation of the Resources Program Staff in the Department of the Interior presaged a return to primary concern with long-range goals and objectives for development. The Bonneville Power Administration also embarked on new long-range analyses of power markets in the Northwest with this change, and, in a sense, revitalized the spirit of interagency cooperation by negotiating studies in this new program with other agencies, such as the U.S. Forest Service. Of added interest is the renewed activity in comprehensive river basin development exemplified by the activities of the Willamette Basin Task Force. Of even more relevant interest is the joint Agriculture-Interior Department study of the North Cascade Mountains in washington State, which was announced March 5, 1963. This broad-gaged land use study was hailed as a conservation land mark and a "hatchet burying" act of mutual accord between these two Departments. The objective of this study is to determine the apparent best uses of all Federal lands in 11 Washington counties which range themselves on both sides of the Cascade Mountains north from Mount Rainier National Park to the Canadian border. With the exception of Mount Rainier National Park and some very minor acreages of other Federal lands, the area is National Forest land. ——7——_'7 204 Forest Land Use Planning in the United States The history of forestry in the United States is more than a history of tree utilization. It is a distinct history of concern for the use of land to produce trees for a variety of ‘ purposes and the use of forested land for an imposing array of other-than-timber uses. Nevertheless, the major question attacked by major policy studies of forestry in the United States has been: How much forest land should or can we have based on the apparent relative need to utilize the Nation's land for the production of timber and wood products? National planning for the multiple uses of the Nation's lands thus assumes the "dominant use" character of multiple use as characterized above. This is in effect "extensive margin" planning when so many acres of the total national land base are allocated to agriculture or crop production, so many to grazing, so many to forests, so many to urban areas, etc., with no duplication of use reflected in these mutually exclu— sive categories. As briefly as possible, a few of the major observations on and studies of forest land use in the United States are reviewed below. Dana (1954) and some of the original sources provide the "data" for this review. Pre-Twentieth Century Heritage The forest reserve legislation of the 1890's and early 1900's is an example of forest land use planning at its dramatic 205 best in the history of United States forestry. This legislation also marked the culmination of a long-term shift in perception of the size and purpose of our national timber resource. In spite of Fernow-Pinchot forestry in which planned regeneration (or "cropping") of cutover forest lands was an important in- gredient, decisions on forest use were essentially decisions to "mine" timber, with regeneration either not wanted at all (timber and stumps were often unwelcome nuisances in the use of "agricultural" land) or viewed ambivalently as a happenstance. Prior to Fernow-Pinchot forestry, so the old refrain goes, the forests were literally standing in the way of colonization. Trees greeted the colonists and clearings had to be made for community living space, gardens and fields for food production, and the wherewithal for building construction. Timber was "inherited" capital. It cost nothing to grow it, and all of the value it would bring when converted to usable products could be credited to the sweat of the brow of him who trans- formed it. It was thus a source of immediate cash value. Eventually, the cash vaults became less accessible through distance and depletion and, hence, certain measures were taken to safeguard the supply. Colonists as groups began to require that individuals obtain community approval for the export of timber; fines were imposed for careless burning in the woods and general fire protection laws were enacted; specific kinds of timber, such as that used for shipmasts, became subject to licensed cutting only; and, 206 eventually, the question of ownership of these increasingly valuable forest lands contributed to the movement for American independence from England. As the Nation began its inexorable march to the Pacific Ocean through the "filling—in" process, forests and timber again provided economic handholds for expansion by furnishing timber, fur, and food to the pioneers. Over three—quarters of the Nation's lands had to be acquired by various means follow- ing independence, and forests stretched here and there across all of this vast territory. This public domain appeared to represent an illimitable national cornucopia. In the shadow of this attitude, national policies for the disposition and use of this area were formed. 'Even though several acts were passed to reserve timber for naval stores and to inhibit timber trespass on the public domain, there was little enthusiasm for restraining utiliza— tion of the forests for timber. Eventually, however, with the passing of the frontier and the advent of the Conservation Movement building upon the prophecies of Marsh and Hough, a different attitude began to prevail. The First Conference of Governors Perhaps the "finest hour" of many in the Conservation Movement in America was represented by the First Conference of Governors of the White House in Washington, D.C., May l3~15, 1908. It was indeed a tribute to the political prestige of that nebulous concept, conservation. The "Proceedings" of 207 this conference (McGee, 1909) summed up the land use--and forest land use-~situation of the United States at that time as well as some attitudes about it. The notion of an impending national timber shortage was a clear theme. One conferee (R. A. Long) estimated that our known timber supply would last only another 41 years, plus or minus 5. President Roosevelt himself warned of the possibility of a "woodless ' and declared that the Nation was already "over the age,‘ verge of a timber famine." "Conservation" measures proposed to alleviate the "alarming” forestry situation included more complete utilization of trees, tax relief to forest-land owners, appointment of state forestry commissions, and Federal regulation of timber cutting on all lands. A real landmark accomplishment of the conference was the formation of a National Conservation CommiSSion in June of the same year, chaired by Pinchot, whose task was to inventory the natural resources of the Nation—~the first time that such a job had been undertaken. The Capper Report During the early 1920's, attempts were repeatedly made by Senator Arthur Capper of Kansas to secure legislation which would impose strict Federal controls over timber cutting on private lands. One of his moves to obtain support was to request through the Congress a report from the Forest Service on important forestry matters of the day, such as timber depletion and lumber exports. This report (U.S. Forest Service, t" 208 1920), it was correctly anticipated, would contain the oft- repeated Forest Service support of greater Federal control of timber cutting. Because of his part in obtaining this first of several reports by the Forest Service on timber depletion, Senator Capper's name is commonly used in reference to it. The Capper Report pointed with alarm to a number of estimates of past, present, and future forest resource and use statistics. The original area of magnificent forest, estimated at 822 million acres, was now reduced to 463 million acres, less than 30 percent of which was still virgin forest. Instead of the original 5,200 billion board feet of sawtimber, the Nation was down to 2,215 billion board feet of sawtimber inventory. About 70 percent of this timber was in private ownership and about 22 percent in National Forest custodian— ship. The problem with this was not that timber was being utilized, but that it was apparently being utilized four times faster than it was being replaced. One wonders about this estimate of disparity when it is shown that most of this cut- growth deficit was based upon comparing the volume cut in virgin stands with the growth of the virgin stand before cutting. Furthermore, lack of optimum stocking in second— growth stands undoubtedly contributed to the cut-growth deficit estimated for these stands. Nevertheless, these estimates (and others relating these factors to ownership, lumber prices, etc.) were sufficient to recommend that a "national policy of reforestation" be 209 implemented. State and Federal cooperation in fire control and reforestation on cutover lands was urged as was enlarge- ment of the National Forest system. This latter suggestion was one which seemed to promise more certain and immediate relief. It seems certain that this report provided much of the factual basis for important forestry legislation——e.g., the Clarke-McNary Act of June 7, 1924 (43 stat. 653), providing for cooperative efforts in fire control, reforestation, and additions to the National Forests—-of the 1920's. The Copeland Report In response to a Senate resolution sponsored by Senator Copeland of New York in 1932, the Forest Service issued on March 27, 1933, a massive (for the day) volume entitled "A National Plan for American Forestry" (U.S. Congress, Senate, 1933). This report is the most comprehensive analysis of forestry conditions up to its date. This document was intended, as its name implies, to be not merely a compendium of facts and figures, but 3 national plpp for American forestry. Notably, it included sections dealing with water- shed protection, forest recreation, forest wildlife, forest ranges and research. The new estimates of forest land in the Copeland Report show 495 million acres of commercial forest and 120 million acres of noncommercial forest which included 11 million acres of forest land withdrawn from timber utilization in such areas as National Parks. Total forest land area was thus 615 million 210 acres. These new estimates compared with Capper Report estimates and, coupled with the depression in agriculture, led to the conclusion that more agricultural land would revert to forests than vice versa. However, it was felt that effective timber producing area might persistently re- main at less than half a billion acres because of further withdrawals for such nontimber purposes as recreation. Altogether, there seemed to be enough land for forest products production. The rub was, according to the estimates, that our forest lands, especially cutover lands, simply weren't being made to produce at full capacity. There was an overall 3 to 1 ratio of cut to growth and most of the blame was attributed to lack of control of private forest—land owners who owned the bulk (80 percent) of the commercial forest land in the Nation. Lack of concern for the future on the part of private owners was seen as the cause of most ills, such as the creation of a new public domain from private cutover timberlands reverting to the public for nonpayment of taxes. The point of view was summed up by the statement that, The cause lies in the public policy of passing ex- cessive areas to private ownership, in the cut-out— and—get-out policy which has wrecked the productivity of the land, and in the resulting inability of owners to pay taxes on nonproductive lands. (p. 14) A more than doubled effort in fire protection and the public acquisition of 155 million acres of private forest land, mostly in the east, were major recommendations for improving the national forestry picture. 211 The section of this report dealing with recreation was prepared by Robert Marshall who was acting in the capacity of special consultant to the Forest Service for this report. Marshall developed an activity—centered scheme of classifying recreation areas. The seven kinds of areas were: (1) superla- tive, (2) primeval, (3) wilderness, (4) roadside, (5) campsite, (6) residence, and (7) outing. Superlative areas were essen- synonymous with "natural areas." Outing areas were intermediatefll/ areas suitable for short nature walks. Residence and campsite areas were what their names implied. Marshall's definition of wilderness may be quoted here: "Wilderness Areas" are regions which contain no per- manent inhabitants, possess no means of mechanical conveyance, and are sufficiently spacious that a person may spend at least a week or two of travel in them without crossing his own tracks. The dominant attri— butes of such areas are: first, that visitors to them . have to depend exclusively on their own efforts for survival; and second, that they preserve as nearly as possible the essential features of the primitive en- vironment. This means that all roads, settlements, and power transportation are barred. But trails and temporary shelters, features such as were common ' long before the advent of the white race, are en— tirely permissible. (p. 474) tially National Parks. Primeval areas were, as he noted, I l He suggested that Wilderness Areas would have to be the high mountain country in the main, containing the least productive timberlands, because so much of the lower lands suitable for wilderness had already been laced with roads. EZ/ Presumably a wildness somewhere between commercial timber harvesting areas and the virgin conditions of a primeval area. 212 Marshall's report also contained estimates of the acreages "required" to be withdrawn from forested lands for each of these kinds of areas: Millions of EEEEE Superlative areas 3 Primeval areas 9% Wilderness areas 10 Roadside areas 4 Campsite areas 1% Residence areas 6 Outing areas _11_ Total 45 Actually, about 20 million acres of forested land would be included in Wilderness Areas, but nearly 11 million had already been withdrawn and the remainder was considered "potential." In total, Marshall noted 38 tracts in the United States-— including "established," "partly established," and "potential"-— of 200,000 acres or more in size which were suitable for wilderness dedication. Only five of these were in the Northwest (table 7). Land Planning Committee The next major report on forestry in the United States arose out of the activities of the National Resources Board and its Land Planning Committee (Land Planning Committee, 1935). This was a comprehensive report which attempted to fit all L, 213 Table 7.--Forest Wilderness Areas established and potential in the Northwest according to Robert Marshall's estimates for the Copeland Report 4&- 4.... 611:2.m2-43m‘1mn: .... a} 'l Area State Acreage Ownership Status North Cascade Washington 1,025,000 National Forest Pl] Snoqualmie Washington 800,000 National Forest Bl/ Olympic washington 725,000 National Forest PEQ/ Goat Rocks Washington 250,000 National Forest PEQ/ Eagle Cap Oregon 225,000 National Forest Ei/ 'Total 3,025,000 1] Potential. El Part established. 2/ Established. 214 pieces of the national land use jigsaw puzzle together and relate the result to estimates of needed land use adjustments. The overall recommendations of the Committee were six in number: 1. Replace crop farming by less intensive types of use where crop farming is proving undesirable. 2. Institute constructive use and management of forest and cutover lands, with heavy assistance by tax reforms. 3. Increase the size of farms in order to provide adequate family living and permit soil maintenance. 4. Change cropping systems where feasible to reduce erosion without increasing size of farms. 5. Make more judicious use of the range. 6. Improve drainage, flood control, or water supplies to enhance or maintain economic agriculture on existing farms. The forest land use section of this report was, as might be expected, based upon the preceding Copeland Report. It reemphasized the concern for public control of private forest lands to "protect the public interests in private forests" by such means as zoning, the establishment of "Federal protection forests," controlling mill output, tax reforms, public acquisi- tion of private forest lands, and an increased research program. One of the largest, most colorful, and best illustrated sections of this supplementary report by the Land Planning Committee was that on recreational land uses prepared by the 215 National Park Service. Part of the program recommended by the Park Service for accommodating future recreation needs consisted of park additions of lands then administered by the Forest Service. The number one acquisition on the list was part of the Olympic National Forest for addition to Olympic National Monument and thereafter to be designated as a National Park. The Diamond Lake Area adjacent to Greater Lake National Park in Oregon was also included as a possible acquisition. Further- more, it was recommended that some of the volcanic cones of the Cascade Range, such as Mount Adams and Mount Hood with their intervening virgin forests, be studied for designation as National Parks. -' Marshall's Copeland Report material was employed to describe National Forest recreation areas (i.e., the seven activity-centered categories of recreation land) and a brief survey of use and management of National Forest lands for recreation was provided. This report pointed out that the actual classes of lands used in a recreational sense in prac- tice were termed by the Forest Service "Natural Areas," "Primi~ H tive Areas, and "Recreation Areas." The Joint Congressional Committee on Forestry President Roosevelt, in a special message to Congress in March of 1938, asked for consideration of several points repeatedly raised in the Copeland and other reports of the period on American forestry. Chief among these was the alleged need for more governmental control of timber cutting 216 on private forest lands. A lO-member Committee (5 Congressmen and 5 Senators) was subsequently formed in June 1938 and chaired by Senator Bankhead of Alabama. The report of this Committee was entitled ”Forest Lands of the United States" (Joint Committee on Forestry, 1941). During the 3-year tenure of the Committee, a series of eight public hearings was held in the major timber producing regions of the Nation. The Committee concluded and concurred with the Copeland Report that the Nation had enough timberland, but that "the general practice with few exceptions has been destructive exploitation of these resources without effort to maintain their productivity" (p. 11). It was also concluded ' was "commercial forest that the Nation's "major forest problem lands in private ownership.” This report also provided esti- mates of acreages of poorly stocked areas which could be used as an indictment of forestry practices on private lands. The report concluded with a list of 16 recommendations including increased appropriations for cooperative fire protection pro- grams, legislation enabling the establishment of cooperative sustained-yield units, provision of low cost credit to private forest-land owners and operators, intensified protection and management programs on the National Forests, increased appro- priations for the nationwide Forest Survey, and proposed legis- lation authorizing an investigation of the impacts of pulpwood purchasing practices by pulp and paper mills. 217 Several of these recommendations were implemented over the next few years, presumably because of this report. No sweeping legislation for public control of cutting on private lands was forthcoming, however. The Reappraisal of 1945 A new look at the American forestry situation was under- taken by the U.S. Forest Service in 1945 and 1946, resulting in a report entitled "Forests and National Prosperity"(U.S. Forest Service, 1948). The theme of this report was generally in harmony with preceding ones and stressed three major action areas: (1) public aids and services to private forest-land owners, (2) public control of cutting and other forest practices on private forest lands, and (3) expansion and intensified if management of the National Forests. Concern for sawtimber growth and quality was, however, emphasized more strongly. Other-than-timber uses were summarily considered. The President's Water Resources Policy Commission In 1949 a special Water Resources Policy Commission was convened, at the request of President Truman, to take a com- prehensive view of water development problems in the United States. This study reemphasized the total planning concept in— herent in river basin development. Water use and development was viewed as inextricably tied to institutions, land use practices, and the gamut of demand for all goods and services called for by society (President's Water Resources Policy Commission, 1950). 218 Forestry planning and recreation planning were thus seen as part of the job of river basin planning. Timber processing provides jobs and jobs mean people and income which stimulate other businesses, influencing such things as the consumption of electric power and recreation opportunities. Logging and recreation on watersheds may also influence water quality and quantity. In accord with this broad view, this Commission's recommen— dations dealt largely with such matters as interagency coordina- tion in basin planning and development (with special reference to intra—Agriculture Department coordination of watershed management activities) and with data needs for comprehensive basin planning. With regard to forestry and this latter point, it was noted that initial forest surveys were still lacking on over 200 million acres of forest and that much forest land required resurvey. It was thus recommended that the Forest Survey be intensified. The President's Materials Policy Commission The Paley Commission, another presidential commission, was called together in 1951 to take a comprehensive view of the availability of natural resources in the Nation and their adequacy to meet future needs. Again, with regard to forestry, familiar themes were struck: intensification of the protection effort was needed, more research was in order, technical assistance to small forest owners, more intensive management of the National Forests, forest credit and tax reforms, and a 219 modified public control of private cutting. The Timber Resources Review The next major Forest Service review of the national timber ' ' situation was initiated in 1952 and culminated in the publica- tion in 1958 of ”Timber Resources for America's Future" (U.S. ' Forest Service, 1958). This massive timber resources review l is to date the most sophisticated published analysis of timber- land and productivity in the venerable series of such studies. Some 22 major highlights were featured in the summary of this study and included a forecast of a strikingly upward expansion of the demand for forest products, a potential downward trend in available commercial forest land, a generally declining quality of timber, and a significant deficit in growth. The plight of the small forest ownerships was heavily underscored by this study which noted that 60 percent of our commercial forest lands were held by relatively small, nonindus- trial owners. This point was forcefully made with the summary statement, ...unquestionably the key to adequate future timber supplies lies mainly with the 3.4 million farm owners and the miscellaneous group of 1.1 million "other" private ownerships. Although they own mainly very small tracts of forest land, and their principal interests usually are not timber growing, in the aggregate they control well over half of the Nation's commercial timberland and they must continue to supply a substan— tial portion of the raw materials for forest industry. Industrial and public ownerships do not have the capacity to sustain future timber demands. (p. 107) Because of these forecasts of demand increases and the apparent inability to use every acre of commercial forest land to capacity, it was not strange that this study should break with the tradition established by the Copeland Report and declare that it was no longer clearly apparent that the Nation had enough forest land to meet these demands for wood products. Contributing to this conclusion were the anticipations of further expansions of agriculture, additional dedications of forest land to recreation, and encroachments of urbanization, roads, reser— voirs, and powerlines. Interestingly enough, estimated total forest land area in 1953 was 648 million acres, or 23.8 million more than in 1945. This increase (nearly all of which was "commercial") was attributed to changes in classifications, changes in land uses and improved accuracy in estimating area. Timber Trends U.S.-~1962 The latest review of the Nation's timber situation by the Forest Service is currently in progress and will reflect timber inventories, land use changes and changes in such other variables as population growth rates that have become known since the timber resources review of a decade ago. Outdoor Recreation Land Use Planning Planning for outdoor recreation land uses also has a substantial history, as a result of land management agency planning and as a result of recurring waves of heightened interest in outdoor recreation, which led to the organization of conferences, committees, and special study groups. A tele- scoped view of this field is presented merely to point out the persistent existence of wilderness-type ideas. Brockman (1959) provides perhaps the best summary of concern for outdoor recreation. New Forest in England, as an early example, can be traced directly to William the Conqueror's de- sire in the llth century for a hunting preserve. In the United States the Yosemite Grant (1864), Yellowstone National Park (1872), and the Niagara Falls Preserve (1885) are old stories. Yet, even before these, many significant milestones were passed. Included were a series of early colonial game laws; the Great Ponds Act of 1641 in Massachusetts Bay Colony to reserve selected ponds and adjacent tracts of land for fishing and hunting; the Hot Springs Reservation of 1832; and the artist—author Catlin's proposals for' 'a nation's park” in the 1830's and 1840's. The spirit of wilderness in the sense of preserving from population or commercial encroachment upon essentially beneficial pristine environments permeates all of these early activities. The relationships of outdoor recreation to the First American Conservation Movement and the National Forests and National Parks have been developed elsewhere in this report. Other noteworthy activities, however, include the National Conferences on State Parks which began in 1921 (Torrey, 1926); the National Conferences on Outdoor Recreation which were initiated in 1924 (National Conference on Outdoor Recreation, 1924, 1926, 1928); the study of outdoor recreation by the Land Planning Committee of the National Resources Board (Land Plan— ning Committee, 1935); and the monumental series of studies by the Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission (1962), culminating in the formation of the Bureau of Outdoor Recreation in the Department of the Interior in 1962. Wilderness was dealt with explicitly by the 1926 and 1928 National Conferences on Outdoor Recreation, the report by the Joint Committee on Recreational Survey of Federal Lands (1928), and the Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission (University of California Wildland Research Center, 1962). Wilderness-type themes were expressed in all of them, however. Planning and Land Use Planning in Retrospect This survey of ideas about and experience with land use planning has not been abundantly insightful. The materials reviewed above, as well as the large number of specific land use studies that were examined but not reported upon herein, nevertheless seem to suggest the following conclusions: 1. Planning for any purpose is a matter of emphasis. The first question for planning seems to be: planning for what? A plan implies an objective or objectives and these in turn may be extremely broad, such as the " greatest good” or extremely narrow. It is also realistic to think in terms of objectives which lead in turn to the identification of other objectives. Much land use research seems to have been of this kind--situation analyses, whose objec- tives were to suggest problems such as low income, instable tenure conditions, etc. and suggest possible objectives for future research and action programs. Salter's criticism of land economics research appears to ignore this kind of objective as a legitimate and fruitful outlet for ”scientific” endeavor. Two major restraints in planning and action programs are percgptions and possibilities. The paradigm of figure 2 and several of the above literature citations (e.g., White, 1961; Kates, 1962; Firey, 1960; Quinney, 1963; Lucas, 1964b) deal explicitly . with the two problems which invariably confront a planning situation: (a) the ability or willingness of the planner to perceive or see both the problem i | and alternative means of attempting to solve it; (b) the existence of physical, biological, institutional, economic, etc. restraints or ”conditioners" which in- fluence both the number and quality of alternative means for achieving objectives. Land with permanent roads presents both institutional and physical obstacles to classification as wilderness. Furthermore, the land use study for a particular wilderness-type classifica- tion may be made without benefit of all facts which may influence the final decision. An example might be a sudden shift of interest to the local scene by organized outdoor groups as a result of a change in leadership or perception of new tactics by the leadership. 224 Three major decision areas arise in planning. Once the problems are tentatively identified, objectives selected, and alternatives assembled, the planner has three major areas in which decisions must be made in order to assess the relative merits of the alternatives and make a choice: a. He must decide which facts are relevant. This is an area that appears to depend upon concise and perceptive problem identification as much as upon anything else. It is a matter of deciding just what kind of problem--or which aspect of the total problem—-is being considered. It is appropriate to ask the question, for example, what kind of problem is wilderness land allocation? The correct answer to this one, of course, is that it is an interdisciplinary one in the sense of requir- ing the insights which can be constructed from various kinds of facts: e.g., the political ones, the economic ones, the psychological ones, etc. Another important aspect of this area of decision making is deciding which kinds of facts are most important. Our experience with land use studies has not been too helpful in constructing tests of relative importance, since a wide variety of facts were usually collected, and the decisions made were frequently unrelated in any explicit way to the facts collected. This does not mean the facts were, indeed, not related, but merely that the choice process bridging the gap from facts to decision was not made apparent. He must decide how to measure the relevant facts, how much fact to gather, and in what detail. Again, our experience with land use studies does not seem to suggest many helpful guides here. As a general rule, of course, one may fall back upon the rather axiomatic presentation in chapter I, which specified that enough (in both kind and quality) facts had been gathered when the cost just equaled the gain in value of one more unit of fact to the decision that had to be made. It remains to be tested on a case-by-case basis just how this rule might be applied. He must choose among the alternatives in the face of diverse values and choice criteria. Here, again, definition and perception are important. In this case, it is necessary to pre- cisely specify both the problem (is it only an economic "problem" or is it a multidisciplinary "problem?") and the alternatives (what is it that we are really choosing between?). With regard to wilderness land allocation, there seems to be an exceptionally good opportunity to confuse -..-—--.o—"- 226 alternatives with the multidisciplinary conse- quences of the alternatives. This point has been made elsewhere in this report. There seems to be a proclivity to suggest that the choice is to be made between economic values and noneconomic values when, in fact, the choice must be made between alternative land uses (or combinations thereof) which have both economic and noneconomic conse— quences. PART II WILDERNESS LAND CLASSIFICATION AND THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST EXPERIENCE OF THE FOREST SERVICE CHAPTER IV THE SETTING, PRECEDENTS, AND REGULATIONS The Broad Setting The landmark dedications of certain lands in the Northwest National Forests to recreation purposes have been touched upon above. It is important to recall some features of the "Conservation Movement," for this rather amorphous but color- ful activity contained elements which were later to emerge and coalesce in the wilderness movement. The record of this emer- gence is not clearcut; but several chroniclers, such as James (1941), Gilligan,&§/ Rakestraw (1953, 1955), Hays (1959), and Ise (1961) have compiled enough evidence to suggest some salient characteristics. First, in the early stages of the forest reservation period, and even though the National Park idea had resulted in setting aside four National Parks by l890,£2/ the reservation éé/ 02. cit., 1953. figf These were: Yellowstone--l872--act of March 1 (l7 stat. 32); Big Tree (Sequoia)-—1890r-act of September 25 (26 stat. 478); Yosemite--l890—-act of October 1 (26 stat. 650); General Grant--1890--(same act as Yosemite). ”Hot Springs National Reservation was the first 'national reservation' to be set aside, in 1832, but it was not a 'park' in the strict sense of the word...” because of its lack of scenic importance and because it was reserved to the Government rather than the people in order to preserve the presumably therapeutic aspects of the hot springs (Ise, 1961). 227 228 idea served several purposes including the preservation of natural beauty and the reservation of commercial resources for future use. The lack of clear distinction between parks and forests as we now know them is reflected in the fact that the California parks were originally called ”forest reserves." John Muir (1901), perhaps the major source of inspiration of both early and latter day ”preservationists," expressed his discontent by castigating "destroyers” of our timberlands such as timber cutters, railroads, and sheepmen. Although he con- sidered the forest reservations a step in the right direction and felt that a managed forest could indefinitely sustain both wealth and beauty, he was disenchanted by abuses perpetrated in the unguarded and largely unmanaged forest reserves of the day. Only those preserves which were to be called National Parks, preferably guarded by the army, seemed to offer the kind of protection needed. It was not until after the first tumultous decade of the 20th-century Conservation Movement that wilderness preservation became an issue in its own right. What was required was the notion that forest reserves and wilderness too were not necessarily coexistent. During the earlier period, Gifford Pinchot served on a special Committee formed by Secretary of the Interior Smith to recommend on a National Forest policy. The work of this Committee (National Academy of Sciences Committee, 1897) was the first major attempt to formulate a policy and program for the administration and use of the 229 Nation's forest reserves. Significantly, it did not concern itself with the matter of wilderness--or even forest recreation in the large; but it did propose that two National Parks (Mount Rainier and Grand Canyon) be set aside from the Rainier Forest Reserve in Washington and the Grand Canyon Forest Reserve in Arizona, respectively. The recommendations of this Committee served as the basis for a part of the Sundry Civil Appropriations Bill of June 4, 1897 (30 stat. 11, 34), which defined the pur- poses for which forest reserves might be established and provided for their protection and administration. Pinchot later made it abundantly clear in his fight to transfer the forest reserves to the Department of Agriculture, and in the battle to establish a separate Federal park agency, that forested reserves for game refuges or untrammeled natural beauty were not purposes for which forest reserves were or should be established. With this clearer realization of the purposes of the National Forests at that time, and the expanded factionalization and consequent weakening of the Conservation Movement in its earlier form, came the definite schism characterized by Hays (1959) as "Preservation versus Conservation." One early major result of this schism was the American Antiquities Act of June 8, 1906 (34 stat. 225). Out of the same heritage came the act of August 26, 1916 (39 stat. 535), which established the National Park Service in the Department of the Interior. Early National Park sentiment also spilled over into the Northwest, resulting in the creation of Mount Rainier National 230 Park in 1899 (30 stat. 993) and Crater Lake National Park in 1902 (32 stat. 202).§Q/ However, Rakestraw (1953 and 1955) points out in some detail that the other reservations, the National Forest reserves, also had considerable support from the recreation segment of the public which supported National Park reservations. Much of this support was local in nature in the West as was support for the parks. Reasons for support of the forest reservations in the West were several and included not only the national sentiment bound up in the politics and philosophy of the Conservation Movement, but also strong local views tied directly to protection of domestic and irrigation water sources, scenic beauty protection, and some antiuse sentiment directed at sheep grazing, home- steading practices, and the poor utilization practices of timber cutters. The influence of urban dwellers in the West seemed particularly vigorous. Rakestraw (1955, p. 112) quantifies this somewhat by stating that of the more than 17,500,000 acres of forest reserves in 1896: ...at least 1,483,360, and possibly 1,794,400, acres of federal forests were created primarily to protect city watersheds. Between 8,588,800 acres and 11,808,000 acres were created primarily by action of city recrea- tion groups. Of the remainder, motives were mixed, but urban influences were strong in all of them. 'Although in California and in Colorado irrigation was one of the factors in creation of the reserves, in no case can it 29! Crater Lake Park, like Yosemite, was first established after several years of effort by the May 22, 1902, act as a state park and was not formally ceded to the United States by the State of Oregon until June 25, 1935 (49 stat. 422). 231 be clearly shown to be the strongest, and in no case did irrigators as a group play a dominant role in creation of a reserve. One final preparatory remark must be made here. Gilliganél/ observed that, Since large undeveloped areas of land which could possibly be designated as national parks were almost all in national forests under the Department of Agriculture, it was inevitable that a problem of bureaucratic competition should arise and focus attention on roadless areas of the west.... In 1916, the same year the National Park Service was created, there were 176,088,608 acres of land included within the boundaries of the National Forests of the United States, including Alaska and Puerto Rico (U.S. Forest Service, 1917). Over 155 million acres were publicly owned with the remainder alienated to private and other public ownerships. There were parts or all of 17 National Forests in Oregon, 11 in Washington, containing 15,442,587 and 11,624,374 acres (gross area), respectively. This amounted to over 15 percent of all area nationwide in the National Forest System.§g/ On June 30, 1963, the gross area within National Forest boundaries was 220,226,544 acres (U.S. Forest Service, 1963). There were, at this later date, all or parts of 15 National Forests in Oregon, 9 in Washington, containing 17,188,720 and 10,742,045 21! Op. cit., 1953, p. 72. 22! This included 299,370 acres on the Olympic National Forest in Washington which was classified as the Mount Olympus National Monument, and 480 acres on the Siskiyou National Forest in Oregon classified as the Oregon Caves National Monument. , 1” a, 1.... 232 acres, respectively. The major reasons for changes in acreage over this 47-year period were: in Washington, the creation of Olympic National Park (889,000 acres eventually) from Olympic National Forest lands and Mount Olympus National Monument; and in Oregon, the creation of the Winema National Forest in 1961 by purchase of Klamath Indian lands, and other additions of adjacent lands to existing National Forests. Early Wilderness Dedications on the National Forests From this background emerged what we now may call the "quest for wilderness.” National Park creation from National Forest lands as an expression of a desire to preserve and protect scenic grandeur, among other purposes, presented a formidable and frustrating challenge. A different form of reservation was about to suggest itself, however, and it would, interestingly enough, be molded into shape by Forest Service personnel them- selves. The Trapper's Lake Precedent The Agricultural Appropriations Act of March 4, 1915 (38 Stat. 1086, 1101), enabled the Secretary of Agriculture to issue permits for summer home occupancy in the National Forests in.tracts not to exceed 5 acres and for periods of not more tllan 30 years. Summer homes, stores, hotels, and other struc- tures required for recreation or public convenience could be constructed under permit. Although the Secretary had authority to make rules governing the use of the forests under the 1897 Organic Act--rules for regulating recreation as we11-—a formal 233 permit with a guaranteed length of tenure eliminated a major item of uncertainty which could have blocked private investment in costly facilities for public use on the National Forests. By 1919 a backlog of applications for summer home permits on Trapper's Lake in the White River National Forest in Colorado had accumulated, and a brand new "Recreation Engineer" (the first in the Forest Service) named Arthur H. Carhart was given the job of surveying sites in preparation for granting the permits (Carhart, 1962). Carhart relates that, after two weeks of surveying, he was ”cornered" by two other guests of the resort at which he was staying who had finally perceived what he was up to. One was an Oklahoma oil man named McFadden and the other was Paul Rainey, the man who brought back the first motion pictures of Africa's wildlife. Both were ardent out- doorsmen. They vigorously protested the idea of circling every lake with a road and otherwise encouraging the invasion of every sanctuary, such as Trapper's Lake, by the sounds and sights of the growing mob of auto tourists. As a result of this protest and some personal reevaluation, Carhart recommended against development of the area, gaining approval from Assistant District Forester Stahl. Then, "without fanfare,” plans for development were cancelled, the road was terminated three-eighths of a mile from the lake, and a foot trail to the lake was con- structed instead. Thus was applied, apparently, the first application of the "wilderness concept" on the National Forests. 234 In December of the same year another singular event, with perhaps more far-reaching consequences, occurred. Stahl re- marked to Carhart one day that a number of Forest Service people were beginning to be concerned about the way the back country was disappearing as roads were pushed deeper into the forests. One of those concerned, an assistant district forester in Albuquerque, New Mexico, was consequently coming to Denver to talk to Carhart about the Trapper's Lake policy. Soon thereafter, Carhart "closed a day of memorable discussion” about this kind of policy with this assistant district forester named Aldo Leopold, called by Gilliganéi/ ”Father of the National Forest Wilderness System." Several of the fundamental tenets of the "wilderness creed" were pioneered in the memorandum prepared by Carhart summarizing this discussion. Included was the idea that wilderness once destroyed can never be re- stored. The Gila Precedent Perhaps the first published appeal for Wilderness Areas on the National Forests appeared in the Journal of Forestry 1 in November of 1921 (Leopold, 1921). It was, at any rate, Aldo Leopold's opening shot in what was to become a lifelong volley. Gilliganéfl/ and Carhart (1962) stress Leopold's fear of the consequences of an expanded forest road and highway program ———__________. 22! Op. cit. 5 -£! Ibid. 7 . .7» _.__,,_’_,_:z 235 which was supported by a 1921 appropriation of $13,900,000. Leopold's purpose in writing this early article was, as he expressed it, "to give definite form to the issue of wil- derness conservation, and to suggest certain policies for meet— ing it..." (p. 719). To illustrate his message, he used the headwaters area of the Gila River on the Gila National Forest in New Mexico. This half-million acre area, isolated by mountain ranges and box canyons, was yet virtually undeveloped and Leopold meant to keep it that way. He laid great stress on the qualita- tive, as opposed to the quantitative, "exhaustion" of such wilderness—type recreation resources. Two other important ideas that have been maintained in the wilderness debate were also articulated. One of these was that, even though a relative few wanted and would use this kind of area, there was the proposition that, "inasmuch as we have plenty of room and plenty of time, it is our duty to vary our recreational development policy, in some places, to meet the needs and desires of the minority also" (p. 719). Furthermore (p. 720), "It will be much easier to keep wilderness areas than to create them. In fact, the latter alternative may be dismissed as impossible. Right here is the whole reason for forehandedness in the proposed wilderness area policy." Leopold also studded this article with some classic criteria-- and thereby a definition—~for wilderness. His kind of wilderness did not consist of the "small patches" of undeveloped rough back country that would probably always be left behind in the 236 wake of development. These would satisfy some camping needs, he conceded, but they simply were not expansive enough to permit an accumulation of the experience of a "real wilderness trip." This kind of experience was possible "only in a trip through a big stretch of wild country." By this he meant, "a continuous stretch of country preserved in its natural state, open to law- ful hunting and fishing, big enough to absorb a two week's pack trip, and kept devoid of roads, artificial trails, cottages, or other works of man" (p. 719). Some practical administrative criteria, or "assumptions" as he called them, also were allowed, such as: (1) only a small fraction of the total National Forest area should be so re— served--perhaps only one such area in each state; (2) "only areas naturally difficult of industrial development should be chosen;" and (3) the area selected should be distinctive or representative of areas that offered this kind of recreation experience and that would otherwise disappear under develop- ment. Although there was apparently little direct response to this article, Leopold's plans for the Gila area progressed and on June 3, 1924, a Gila Wilderness of 695,296 acres was set aside under a recreational plan for the area by the district forester. By 1925 five other areas of similar nature had been set aside in other forest districts in the West. 0f considerable interest is Tinker's (1929) short article in the 1929 "Yearbook of Agriculture," which gave widespread 237 recognition to Wilderness Areas on the National Forests. He related that at the time of writing, "Forty-two wilderness areas have recently been established by the Forest Service in the national forests of Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota and Minnesota..." (p. 610). The total area so dedicated in that district was 2,551,020 acres. Three classes of Wilderness Areas were recognized: Class I: Areas for scientific study and use, comprising "natural areas" ranging in size from a few acres to over a section, set aside for observa- tion and study in future years, and protected from every form of use including grazing. Class II: Rugged tracts, whose scenic beauty depended on preservation in a ”primeval state," with all commercial uses prohibited, and providing as much as possible for big game needs. Class III: The largest of the classes in terms of area, with no cultural development such as roads and summer homes permitted, but economic resource utilization would be permitted and correlated with recreation use. Tinker stated that certain types of recreationists required pioneer-like and primitive conditions demanding woodcraft skills and ability to withstand hardship in a marked degree of isolation. Wilderness classes I and II, above, were established in recogni— tion Of these requirements. He referred to this (p. 612) as, 238 ...an innovation in land economics and represents an attempt to set up barriers against the inroads of civilization and the usual type of recreational development, and to satisfy a demand for natural scientific laboratories and for recreational oppor— tunities under pioneer conditions. Early Northwest Wilderness During the early 1920's, recreation plans were being pre— pared for individual National Forests within the Northwest District. As a result of the March 4, 1915, Agricultural Appropriations Act (38 stat. 1086, 1101), which permitted summer homes, etc., most of these recreation plans dealt with specific site layouts or "unit" developments. However, as the plans were revised and approved during the decade of the 1920's, the explicit designation of "Wilderness" areas began to appear.§2/ The record of relationship between this occurrence and the Gila precedent is not clear. Neverthe- less, we may infer a rather direct relationship. On July 23 and 24, 1927, for example, "Recreation Examiner" Fred Cleator Inade a horseback trip through the Ice Lake and Aneroid Lake basins on the wallowa National Forest.§§/ His conclusion was tflnat this and adjacent areas "in large measure should be Vfithheld as a Wilderness Area." The area sketched out on maps b3? Cleator is now part of the Eagle Cap Wilderness Area. As a “— §9/ The atlas-sized maps and recreation plans for individual National Forests in Region 6 were consulted and are on file in the Region 6 Division of Recreation, Portland, Oreg. éfli/ Memorandum from Cleator for Lands Division, L--Recreation, Wallowa, Wilderness Area, Forest Recreation Plan, August 1, 1927. 239 result of several such examinations by Cleator during this period, "Wilderness" areas were delimited on the maps of several forests as units in the forest recreation plans. Several of these plans were approved in 1928 and included the Jefferson Wilderness Area on the Willamette National Forest, the Diamond Peak Wilderness Area on the Deschutes and Willamette National Forests, and the Olympic Wilderness Area on the Olympic National Forest. Management proposed for these Wilderness Areas was very similar to that proposed later for the Primitive Areas which were to be classified under later regulations. It envisioned some signing, some primitive sanitation and shelter facilities, and, presumably, would permit some additional transportation development and commercial resource use. The Boundary Waters Canoe Area Although the 1,034,852-acre Boundary waters Canoe Area of the Superior National Forest in Minnesotaél/ is a good bit different than western wilderness, it was born out of the same heritage at about the same time as western wilderness; :it has endured somewhat similar kinds of growing pains; and it :is the largest formally dedicated National Forest wilderness— type area east of the Great Plains. 21/ The entire canoe area also extends into Quetico Provincial Park, Ontario Province, Canada. The acreage reported here is that administered by the U.S. and carried as formally classified area. 240 Lucas,§§/ Scheffey,§2/ and Andrews (1954) have described in detail the genesis of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area from the separate "Roadless Areas" of the 1920's, the Shipstead-Nolan Act (46 stat. 1020) of 1930 which blocked commercial entry of the roadless areas, Executive Order 10092 of 1948 prohibit- ing air travel, and subsequent appropriations to acquire in- holdings of private land and consolidate the wilderness. The relationship to western wilderness, however, is made clearer through the account and activities of Arthur Carhart (1962). In May of 1921, Carhart began field study of the Superior National Forest and immediately came to grips with plans for intensive road and resort development around the lakes of the forest. However, the Trapper's Lake precedent was influential in thwarting these plans and causing the subsequent VWithdrawal of $53,000 of road funds from the intended project. 13115 action was abetted by another precedent as well: the Morris A&:t of June 27, 1902 (32 stat. 400), which, among other things, haxi reserved several sections of timber from cutting on the i (Hiippewa Indian Reservation in Minnesota in order to protect ‘ ' scenic byways viewed from canoe routes and campgrounds. §§j Lucas, Robert C. The Quetico-Superior area: Recrea- tional use in relation to capacity. Ph. D. thesis, Univ. Minn. 377 pp., illus. 1962. £2] Scheffey, Alice W. The origin of recreation policy in the National Forests; a case study of the Superior National Forest. M.S. thesis, Univ. Mich. 1958. 241 Regulation L-ZO: Primitive Areas Gilliganég/ reports the gathering public support of the wilderness reservation idea during the latter 1920's. The 1926 Joint Committee on Recreational Survey of Federal Lands queried the Forest Service about its wilderness reservation policy. The Sierra Club; the Tucson, Arizona, Natural History Society; and the Izaak Walton League favored wilderness in particular places. In 1926 Chief Forester Greeley surveyed the scene, found wilderness useful, and implemented a program on the National Forests to apply a general wilderness policy.§l/ fl/ Op. cit., 1953. 94/ In a letter to district foresters dated December 30, 1926, Greeley laid out the underlying philosophy and criteria to be applied in setting aside Wilderness Areas. This was the first real statement of servicewide policy on wilderness. "Reasonable provision" for "the wilderness idea will have been Inade" he stated when (1) it was made sure that roads would not rleedlessly invade areas adapted to wilderness purposes, and (2) these areas were safeguarded "specifically against permits fCfir summer homes, hotels and other structures." Wilderness Area criteria and other rationales mentioned in ttlis letter included: (1) the size of area was not subject to Stlandardization and would be determined by "natural factors aIId the location of roads needed for protection"; (2) projections 013 economic needs and development of resources in the future was I1C>t considered necessary and those needs "which will develop léiter for timber or water should be dealt with at the time in a<=cordance with our best judgment of the highest use or best I[leans of correlating different uses of the land"; (3) "modes CNE travel" should be the only limitation on use of Wilderness lKlfeas by people; (4) some development, such as campgrounds where needed for fire prevention, shelter cabins, and "any other common Sense needs..." might be permitted. Significantly enough, this letter stated that there would 13e several of these areas, both large and small, on practically Ellery National Forest. This is a departure from the large-area idea of Leopold . 242 The wilderness reservations in the Northwest in 1928 followed from this activity. The year 1928 proved to be an important year in the genesis of institutionalized wilderness. In that year the National Conference on Outdoor Recreation called forth the report from the Joint Committee on Recreation Survey of Federal Lands, which has been outlined above (National Conference on Outdoor Recreation, 1928). Twenty~one National Forest Wilderness Areas ranging in size from 30,000 (in spite of a recommended minimum size of 100,000 acres) to 2 million acres were recommended, four of which (Clackamas, Goat Rocks, North Cascade, and Olympic) were in Oregon and Washington. Furthermore, spirited articulation of m opposing points of view was occurring in the pages of the house Organ of the Forest Service, the Forest Service Bulletin. Finally, during the summer of 1928, a lOO-day trip through the 'Western forest regions convinced L. F. Kneipp, Assistant Forester 111 charge of the Forest Service, Washington Office Division of Rficreation and Lands, that a more distinctive designation was nfieded for Forest Service Wilderness Areas. To meet this need, Baleipp fashioned an official regulation which would provide for eStablishment of primitive recreation areas and natural research Eireas.§2/ This proposed regulation was discussed with the ég/ Gilligan (0p. cit., 1953) provides this history and I>oints out that in 1926 Chief Forester Greeley had instructed Ffineipp to assemble data on suitable roadless areas existing VVithin the National Forests. Kneipp decided that 360 square Uuiles (230,400 acres) was an appropriate minimum size for a 243 Regions,subsequently modified and finally effected on July 12, 1929. Authority for Regulation L-20 was found in that section of the Organic Act of June 4, 1897 (30 stat. ll, 34), which reads in part: ...and he [the Secretary of Agriculture] may make such rules and regulations and establish such services as will insure the objects of such reservations, namely, to regulate their occupancy and use and to preserve the forests thereon from destruction.... It became one of a series of "L" Regulations dealing with National Forest land classification and use and established under the same authority.§§/ roadless wilderness and found 74 such tracts, most of which were in the Western States. Greeley's letter of December 30, 1926 (supra), reflects his disagreement with such an inflexible size limitation in the face of an embryonic and yet evolving policy for wilderness. 92/ The "Secretary's National Forest Regulations" are compiled in the Forest Service Manual, section 1023.2, and re- late to "the protection, occupancy, use and administration of the National Forests." Authority for these regulations is provided by the act of February 1, 1905 (33 stat. 628), amenda- tory of the act of June 4, 1897 (30 stat. 11, 34). These include the "A" or Administrative Regulations pertaining to such things as uniforms, property, cooperative agreements, and appeals procedures; the "E" or Engineering Regulations, pertain— ing to electric power transmission line rights—of—way; the "G" or Grazing Regulations pertaining to such matters as management (Df ranges, fees, range improvements, and advisory boards; the "S" or Timber Management Regulations dealing with timber cutting 811d contracts; the "T" Regulations dealing with trespass; the 'HN" Regulations concerned with wildlife matters; and the "L" and "IT'or Lands Regulations dealing generally with land classifica- tion and use on the National Forests, including the Wilderness, Vtild, and Primitive Area classifications of land use. 244 The reasons for using the name "Primitive" rather than the established name "Wilderness" have also been reviewed by Gilligan.§i/ An article by Kneipp (1929) in American Planning and Civic Annual pointed out that the so-called "Wilderness Areas" name had been given to a number of areas which had been penetrated for a number of years with roads and commercial resource exploration and development. It was therefore diffi- cult to accept these areas as the "natural" or "virgin" areas implied by the name "wilderness." Furthermore, a 1929 draft of a memorandum from Chief Forester Stuartéé/ to district foresters interpreted the desire of Wilderness Area supporters to be principally for 'primitive conditions of travel, habitation, , subsistence, and environment." This was possible, he felt, without undue subordination of other purposes of the forests and with the variability of the primitive quality kept in mind. That portion of Regulation L-20 which covered Primitive Areaséé/ is quoted below (Forest Service, 1930): The Forester shall determine, define and permanently record...a series of areas of national forest lands to be known as primitive areas, within which, to the extent of %/ Op. cit., 1953. éi/ Chief Forester Greeley resigned from the Service in quril 1928 and was succeeded by Major Robert Y. Stuart. 29/ This regulation also established authority for wilderness-type areas for scientific research and educational purposes. Experimental forests and natural areas were estab- lished under this regulation. 245 the Department's authority, will be maintained primi- tive conditions of environment, transportation, habitation and subsistence, with a view to conserving the value of such areas for public education, inspira- tion and recreation, and within areas so designated no occupancy under special use permit shall be allowed, or the construction of permanent improvements by any public agency concurred in, except as authorized or contemplated by plans previously approved by the Forester. The regulation was amended August 7, 1930, in two minor ways with respect to Primitive Areas: 1. The phrase, "to the extent of the Department's authority" was deleted. 2. The phrase, "except for permanent improvements needed in Experimental Forests and Ranges" was added after "within any areas so designated...." This regulation remained in this form until revoked on September 19, 1939, and replaced by the more restrictive Regulations U-l and U-2. Equally or more important was a mimeographed set of "Instructions Regarding Regulation L-20 Sent to District Foresters and Forest Supervisors." This was in the form of a supplement to the Forest Service Manual and was dated June 29, 1929, thus preceding the effective date of the new Regulation L-20. The lead sentence in these instructions sets the stage for controversy over the allocation decision: "No hard and fast rules, principles or standards can be generally and uniformly established to govern the use and development of I primitive areas.’ Each case was to be handled on its own 246 merits. However, in recognition of the irreplaceability of lost wilderness, doubts were to be resolved in favor of classi- fication of the area as Primitive. According to these "instructions," the purpose of Primitive Areas was: To prevent the unnecessary elimination or impair— ment of unique natural values, and to conserve, so far as controlling economic considerations will permit, the opportunity to the public to observe the conditions which existed in the pioneer phases of the Nation's development, and to engage in the forms of outdoor recreation characteristic of that period, thus aiding to preserve national traditions, ideals and character- istics, and promoting a truer understanding of the historical phases of national progress. A significant clause is that which reads "so far as controlling economic considerations will permit...." It is Gilligan's thesis that these instructions were deliberately ambivalent, appealing to the preservationist's and economic interests at the same time, to win support for the National Forest System at a time when National Park enthusiasm and leadership posed serious threats to certain scenic National Forest lands. "Relative public need" was to be the criterion for deter— mining the number and size of Primitive Areas. No "guidelines" for measuring this need were provided. Again, however, where doubt existed as to "the highest form of use," the decision was to be made in favor of "primitive conditions." These instructions explicitly stated that commercial uses 0f resources within Primitive Areas would or could be permitted ll - H Unless specral circumstances warranted restriction of use of 247 resources. Subsequent reports and interpretations of Regulation L-20 outside the Service indicated widespread misunderstanding on this point. Fire prevention facilities such as roads, trails, telephone lines, and lookout towers were to be maintained to provide adequate protection. The fire protection argument was main- tained in later years and was the principal line of resistance used by many within the Forest Service against expansion of the "system" of roadless wilderness. The wording of the regulation with regard to occupancy under special use permit (for such purposes as summer homes) was subject to misinterpretation, but was further interpreted n in the instructions. A general rule provided that "no hotels, resorts, permanent commercial camps, summer home communities," etc. would be permitted within classified areas. However, some leeway was granted to local forest officers to determine which special use occupancies would be permitted in particular places. In all cases, such occupancy was to be held to a ”minimum." The administrative procedure for classifying Primitive Areas was also outlined in these instructions. These were generally: 1. Determination and recommendation of areas to be designated as Primitive Areas will be made by the district forester. 248 2. A detailed report for each such area will be sub— mitted, relating: a. Reasons for the proposed designation. b. Specified data relating to the forest values in- volved. c. Proposed plan of management showing: (1) Resource utilization practices permitted and limitations thereto. (2) Improvements permitted. (3) Kind and amount of special use occupancy to be permitted. 3. Approval of the report and plan by the Forester. 4. Departures from approved report and plan made only ‘ upon approval by the Forester. Because of the prior concern with locating suitable "Wilderness" Areas on the National Forests, and because the Primitive Area concept was virtually the same, action was prompt in establishing Primitive Areas. Region 6, significantly enough, claims the distinction of making the first approved classifications under Regulation L-20. On October 30, 1930, three Primitive Areas were approved by the Forester: Eagle Cap, on the wallowa and Whitman National Forests; Mount Jefferson,67/ £1/ The southern portion of the present Mbunt Jefferson Primitive Area, including the Seven Lakes Basin Area and Three- Fingered Jack Mountain, was added later and formally approved on June 8, 1933. 249 on the Willamette, Deschutes, and Mount Hood National Forests; and Mountain Lakes, on the Old Crater (now the Winema) National Forest. On December 22, 1930, still ahead of other Regions' classifications, the Olympic Primitive Area on the Olympic National Forest was finally approved by the Forester. The record of Primitive Area classification in the Pacific Northwest Region is shown in table 8. About 1.7 million acres of National Forest lands were at one time or another classified as Primitive Areas. Only a little more than 1.4 million re- mained in 1939 when new Regulations U-l and U-2 were put into effect. Gilliganég/ describes and cites numerous references to the colorful background surrounding the change of the Olympic Primitive Area to National Park status. This action alone was responsible for reducing the acreage of Northwest Primitive Areas prior to 1939. Through the final year of life for Regulation L-20 (1939), 73 Primitive Areas and 2 Canoe Areas, which encompassed 14,235,414 acres nationwide, had been established under this authority. Regulations U-l and U-2: Wilderness and Wild Areas Background Experience With the advent of institutionalized wilderness as Primitive Areas on the National Forests and redoubled efforts in behalf of —§-___—— fl/ Op. cit., 1953. Vfl‘ 250 Table 8.--Primitive Area establishment, Region 6 Year Primitive Area established Acres Eagle Cap 1930 218,200 Mount Jefferson 1930 52,200 1933 34,500 (added) Mountain Lakes 1930 13,445 Olympic 1930 128,240 1936 110,690 (added) (.11) ~- Mount Hood 1931 14,800 Goat Rocks 1931 50,100 1935 22,340 (added) North Cascade 1935 801,000 Three Sisters 1937 246,728 Total 6,692,243 Source: U.S. Forest Service, Region 6 files, Portland, Oreg. l/ In 1938, 206,146 acres were transferred to Olympic National Park; remaining acreage dropped as not suitable for classified sta tus. 251 the liational Parks and the Department of the Interior, came a flooci of discourse on wilderness within and outside the pro- fession of forestry. It was also a matter for modifying on the anvi.1 of debate within the Forest Service itself. Into this baclcgground must be mixed the depression, the increased interest in. leand use planning stimulated by new programs to overcome or mitiqgate the effects of the depression, increased emphasis upon recareation land use planning, and a new champion of wilderness named Robert Marshall. Again, Gilliganég/ has recorded this period and salient literrature in detail. Briefly, however, some of the highlights consisted of Forest Service staff meetings in the early 1930's, which.eventually led to a more restrictive View of permissible kinds and degrees of use of wilderness-type areas; the Copeland Report of 1933 which included recommendations for specific additional Primitive Areas; the formation of the Wilderness Society in 1935 by Robert Marshall and others; increased National Park support in the Roosevelt Administration which led to trans- fer of the National Monuments on the National Forests to the Park Service in 1933 and the cession of most of the Olympic Primitive Area to the new Olympic National Park in 1938; pro— posals for and some adoption of 48 specific additional roadless areas on the National Forests made by Marshall in 1936; increased $591 0p. cit., 1953. 252 interest in defining the character of Wilderness Areas and the differences between National Parks and National Forests, exempli- fied by a report of the Natural Resources Committee of the NRB; the development of roads into some Primitive Areas or potential classified areas with Civilian Conservation Corps programs in the later 1930's; recreation land inventory by the Forest Service in the late 1930's; and reclassification and new establishment of Primitive Areas with those over 100,000 acres to be called "Wilderness" and those under 100,000 acres to be called "Wild" Areas. Of some interest is the fact that most of the Primitive Area classifications were made during the first 4 years after Regulation L-20 was effected. Sixty-three of the 73 areas eventually classified were classified by 1933, as well as about two-thirds of the acreage which would be set aside in Primitive Areas. Regulation U—l At any rate, out of the attempt to come to grips with the intent and implementation of Regulation L-20 came an apparent desire for a regulation or authority that would more clearly distinguish the wilderness—type areas from other National Forest areas. Apparently the most feasible way to do this was to create a new regulation which would be more restrictive, especially in terms of roads and motorized travel in the classified area. Hence, on September 19, 1939, the Secretary 253 of Agriculture revoked Regulation L-20 and approved Regulations U—l and U-2. Regulation U-l (36 CFR 251.20), which classified Wilderness Areas, consisted and still is made up of three paragraphs dealing successively with: (1) name, kind of area, permitted uses and access; (2) limitations on use and access; and (3) general establishment rules and hearings requirements. By this regulation "Wilderness Area" became the official name of National Forest land in a single tract of 100,000 acres or more which was designated as such by the Secretary of Agriculture. Roads, "other provision for motorized transportation," commer- cial timber cutting, and special use permits for such uses 3 as summer homes and resorts were specifically prohibited. However, where private property was enclosed within the desig— nated area, ingress and egress would be permitted and controlled by the Forest Supervisor. Regulation U-l permits domestic livestock grazing, water storage project development which does not require road con— struction, and some facilities for protection of the forest subject to appropriate restrictions imposed by the Chief of the Forest Service. The use of airplanes and motorboats was expressly prohibited except in the case of emergency landings, or "unless such use by airplanes or motorboats has already become well established...." In September of 1963, the use of 254 all other motorized equipment, including such things as gasoline- powered generators and chain saws, was expressly prohibited by an amendment to the regulation. This regulation also provided that only an order of the Secretary of Agriculture would be sufficient for establishment of Wilderness Areas. It also provided that notice of establish- ment or boundary changes should be given to the public for a period of at least 90 days prior to the contemplated action. If, during that time, a demand for a public hearing should develop, the Regional Forester was ordered to hold such a hearing and submit the results to the Chief of the Forest Service, who in turn would submit them with his recommendations to the Secretary. Regulation U-2 Regulation U-2 (36 CFR 251.21) was established as the authority for classifying areas to be called "Wild Areas," which were less than 100,000 acres but more than 5,000 acres in size. These were to be administered exactly like Wilderness Areas, but would require approval only by the Chief of the Forest Service rather than the Secretary. Primitive Area Reclassification Neither Regulation U-l or U-2 dealt explicitly with the status of the existing system of Primitive Areas. Hence, on January 2, 1940, Circular U~l was issued by the washington Office of the Forest Service to the field. This circular pro- vided the procedure for reclassifying Primitive Areas on the National Forests. _ ___7 __A 255 The circular pointed out that each Primitive Area was to retain its Primitive Area status until or unless it was revoked by the Chief. It also pointed out the more restrictive nature of U—l and U-2 areas and that some, but not all, of the Primitive Areas were already managed under U-l and U—2 type restrictions. Then, each Region was directed to "review" its Primitive Area situation, determine which areas met classification re- quirements of the new regulations, adjust boundaries as needed, and develop a new report and management plan for those parts of the old Primitive Areas (and any new areas which might qualify). A significant statement was, "...those areas needed for commer- , cial timber cutting or where recent developments have indicated mineral development is imminent, should be eliminated." The reports were then to receive preliminary approval by the Chief's office, after which public notice would be given and hearings conducted if necessary as required under the new regulations. In all cases where commercial timber cutting had been permitted in the Primitive Area, public notice was to be given of the prospective classification, since classification under the new, more restrictive, regulation was considered a major change. Only where n2 boundary or use limitation changes would occur in changing from Primitive to U-l or U-2 status, would it be per- missible to forego public notice. However, Regional Foresters could, at their own discretion in such cases, still give public notice of the impending classification change. 256 Another circular, Circular U-8, was issued on March 30, 1940, which further clarified or defined the status of Primitive Areas. In order that faith might not be broken with outdoor groups who expected Primitive Areas to be eventually subsumed under the new policy toward wilderness-type areas, the Regions were requested to "consult with this {the Chief'sl office if you plan any development in any existing primitive area, which would not be allowed under Regulation U-l or U-2 even though the present management plan for the area may permit it." In effect then, Primitive Areas were to be handled as if they were in fact Wilderness Areas. Similar instructions exist in the present Forest Service Manual. In lieu of a specific regulation for managing Primitive Areas, the Forest Service relied, until September 1963, upon Regulation U-6 which reads as follows: Occupancy and use of National Forest Lands shall be permitted only upon compliance with reasonable condi— tions looking to the promotion of public welfare, safety or convenience. Public notices shall be posted by the Forest Supervisor, setting forth such conditions with respect to any areas on which special restrictions should be imposed. This is a general administrative regulation which serves the general situation well, but poses administrative headaches for such special areas as Primitive Areas. In order to comply with this regulation the Forest Supervisors had to post Primitive Areas with wilderness-area—type restrictions. Large, unfenced, multitrailed Primitive Areas presented obvious problems. 257 Furthermore, prosecution of trespass was a tenuous matter. Legally, these areas were not really different than ordinary National Forest lands and thus the reasonableness of restriction—- the only limitation implied in Regulation U—6—-was at issue. Before trespass could be charged, it was necessary for a court to determine whether the posted restrictions were reasonable. In September 1963, Regulation U-2A was effected to help alleviate the status problem of Primitive Areas. This regula- tion, amending U-2, deals explicitly with Primitive Area manage— ment and reads as follows: Those areas of National Forest land classified by the Chief, Forest Service, as "primitive areas" prior to September 20, 1939, shall be administered in the same manner as wilderness and with the same regulations on their use. The procedure for modifying or eliminating primitive areas shall be the same as for wilderness areas, except that the final action in each case will be the Chief. No new primitive areas will be estab- lished. Thus, reasonableness of restriction must no longer be deter- mined. It is sufficient to show violation of any of the specific regulations governing the occupancy, use, and protec- tion of Wild and Wilderness Areas. On April 27, 1961, Secretary of Agriculture Freeman issued a policy statement on wilderness-type classified areas on the National Forests. In this statement, Primitive Areas were given special attention as "potential parts of the National-Forest Wilderness System...." The Chief of the Forest Service was then directed to complete the job of restudying and evaluating existing Primitive Areas for inclusion in the wilderness system by 1976. h—— 258 Forest Service Manual Chapter 2320 of the Forest Service Manual, as amended, provides current objectives, policies, and guidelines for imple- menting these policies relating to wilderness-type areas. Section 2321 of this chapter discusses in some detail criteria and procedures for establishing or changing wilderness-type areas on the National Forests. These details will be drawn upon in discussion below. The Classification Record Under U-l and U-2 The National Record Briefly, we can note that 1940 was the year of greatest activity for reclassification. Moving with alacrity, the Forest Service restudied 12 Primitive Areas, reclassifying all of them into 4 Wilderness Areas and 6 Wild Areas. Three Primitive Areas in Montana (South Fork, Sun River, and Pentagon) were reclassified and combined as the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area in memory of Robert Marshall, who had died in November of 1939. The net acreage result was a loss of 18,241 acres. Through 1963 the number of Primitive Areas had been reduced to 36 through reclassification studies. During this period, only two Primitive Areas, Mount Shavano and Olympic, were entirely abandoned; one because of extensive road construction and the other because most of it had been transferred to the new Olympic National Park. Overall, from 1939 through 1963 there was a reduction of 7,418,093 acres of National Forest lands in Primitive Areas, 259 leaving a balance of Primitive Area acreage for reevaluation of 6,017,409 acres. During the same period, 7,555,111 acres of National Forest lands were classified under Regulations U—l and U-2 for a net gain of classified wilderness-type areas (excluding the Boundary waters Canoe Area) of 137,017 acres. The area now known as the Boundary waters Canoe Area was increased from 799,911 acres to 886,673 acres. The net gain in acreage was accounted for principally by classification of new areas like the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area in washington State which was never a classified Primitive Area. What is not revealed by these data is what George Marshall (1963) has called the "splinterization" of wilderness-- referring to the reduction in size and reclassification of only parts of formerly larger Primitive Areas-~and which has also been cited as wilderness "dismemberment" by warmer (1962) with special reference to the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico. Marshall illustrated the point with the statement (p. 11), A rather recent, shocking example of this pastime is the January 11, 1963, order of Secretary of Agriculture Orville L. Freeman which resulted in a net loss of 418,506 acres to classified wilderness through the reclassification of the 1,875,306 acre Selway-Bitterroot Primitive Area in Idaho and Montana: This is a 22% reduction of this previously largest unit of the national forest wilderness system. He also cited other losses or "splinterizations" such as 23 percent of the Three Sisters Primitive Area in 1957, and 50 percent o:f an area that had been recommended for classification by "conservationists" as a result of the Glacier Peak classification in 1960. This so-called "splinterization" has provided a major focal point for attacks on Forest Service wilderness classifica- tion efforts in the recent past and, presumably, will continue to occupy a prominent position in the future. One reason will be that remaining Primitive Areas will no doubt be found to contain some portions which do not readily lend themselves to wilderness classification. Another reason seems likely to be that large tracts over 100,000 acres in size suitable for wilderness classification, and which have never been classified or singled out for wilderness-type consideration previously, are rare indeed. Hence, more and more attention will be directed to smaller tracts suitable for Wild Area classifica— tion, but which are less likely to satisfy wilderness pro- ponents' preferences for larger areas. It is significant to note that since 1940 only one Wilderness Area, the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area in 1960, has been brought into the National Forest wilderness system from lands which were for- merly unclassified by regulation. The 13 other "new" areas classified under the new regulations have all been Wild Areas. To complete the national summary, it can be noted that 16 Wilderness Areas and 19 Wild Areas were created from former Primitive Areas during the 1940-63 period. The amount of area yet unclassified by either L-20 or U-l and UPZ, but which may nevertheless meet the apparent criteria for c lassification on the National Forests, is still an open question. One report (Univ. Calif. Wildland Research Center, 1962) suggested . _ 7,4, giant; aszzaézeza~i ._ A 261 that as of 1960 there were over 7 million acres of such land in unclassified tracts over 100,000 acres in size on the National Forests. Over 1.4 million acres of this area were in the States of Oregon and washington. The Northwest Record The Mount Hood Wild Area was the first classification in the Northwest Region under the new "U-" regulations, on June 30, 1940. This was a reclassification of the former Mbunt Hood Primitive Area and followed close on the heels of three reclassifications in Arizona. The Northwest Region scored first, however, in classifying "new" areas with the Strawberry Mountain Wild Area in Oregon on February 9, 1942, and the Mount Adams Wild Area in Washington on September 2, 1942. Table 9 provides a thumbnail sketch of classifications in the Northwest under Regulations U-l and U—2 through 1963. This classification record left only two Primitive Areas still to be reevaluated. These were the Mount Jefferson Primitive Area of 86,700 acres in Oregon, and the 801,000-acre North Cascade Primitive Area in Washington. As of the forepart of 1964, both areas had been restudied by the Forest Service with a Wild Area proposal for the Mount Jefferson area scheduled for a public hearing on June 2, 1964, and a proposal completed for a North Cascade Wilderness Area. The latter proposal has been held up pending the results of the joint Interior-Agriculture departmental study of the North Cascade Mountains area of Washington State which was initiated in the last half of 1963. 262 Table 9.--Wi1derness and Wild Area classifications in the Pacific Northwest Region, 1940-63 0.. 1:33:31 “23:35:33?“ claSSLfication area "Arefi or new area m Wild Areas: Mount Hood 1940 14,160 Reclassification Goat Rocks 1940 82,680 Reclassification Mountain Lakes 1940 23,071 Reclassification Strawberry Mountain 1942 33,004 New Mount Adams 1942 42,411 New Gearhart Mountain 1943 18,709 New Kalmiopsis 1946 78,850 New Diamond Peak 1957 35,440 New Mount washington 1957 46,655 New Wilderness Areas: Eagle Cap 1940 216,250 Reclassification Three Sisters 1957 196,708 Reclassification Glacier Peak 1960 458,105 New Source: U.S. Forest Service files. 263 Additional proposals for classification, based upon the Region 6 Limited Areas (to be discussed below), have been pre- pared and new studies initiated. Classification of Other ”Near Natural” Areas There has been a tradition of confusion in the public mind regarding the purpose and naming of the several kinds of classi- fied areas on the National Forests. This problem, on a wider scale, was also evident in the early attempts at classification of wilderness-type lands by the National Conference on Outdoor Recreation of 1928 and the 1933 Copeland Report, among others. In addition to the classified Wilderness, Wild, Primitive, and Canoe Areas, there are several other related kinds of areas classified by regulation on the National Forests. As a group they are referred to as "near natural” areas. Table 10 summarizes the official designation, purpose, and authorities for these areas. An additional kind of area sometimes designated under Regulation U—3 is what has been called a ”Botanical Area." There was, as of the forepart of 1964, no official definition of this area although one can be inferred from a letterzg/ to the Regional Forester, Region 6, dealing with this matter in which it is stated: "Management can be provided (in these areas) which will give adequate protection to the unusual botanical features." There were, as of November 1, 1962, four Geological 19! Letter from John Sieker, Washington Office Forest Service, dated June 5, 1962. 264 Table 10.-—C1assification of other ”near natural” area designations on the National Forests Area General character Regulation . . General management . deSLgnation and purpose authority Roadless Similar to wilder- Preserve wilder— U—3(a) ness except certain ness, permit timber economic values co- harvest, permit dominant with temporary roads. recreation. Virgin 5,000 acres or Public access en— U—3(a) more of virtually couraged but in undisturbed area such a way as to for study and en— prevent damage. joyment of pristine No permanent oc- environments. cupancy or com- mercial use permitted. Scenic Area of outstand- Maintain as nearly U-3 ing beauty re- as possible in un- quiring special disturbed condition. management to preserve its beauty for pub- lic enjoyment. .eological Area with out- Maintain in undis— U-3 standing forma- turbed condition tions or as nearly as historical possible. features of earth' s develop- ment. Caves Similar to Geo- Special precautions U-3 logical Areas. taken for public safety. Archeo- Contains signifi- Special precautions U-3 logical cant evidence of taken to prevent use by aboriginal damage or removal people. of remnants. Historical Areas such as Preserve and re- U-3 battlegrounds, mining camps, cemeteries con- taining interest- ing details of life of early settlers. construct in visitor’s mind original atmosphere 1 which gave interest to the area. 265 Areas, four Scenic Areas, and one "Botanical Area" in Region 6. They contained a total of 42,890 acres of National Forest lands.Zl/ There is also an official designation called "Natural Area” which is classified under Regulation U-4. Under this regulation, the Chief of the Forest Service may designate a series of areas known as ”experimental forests" to be used for experimental work. These areas are dedicated to and used for research. Experimental ranges may also be designated. In addition, the Chief may designate a series to be known as "Natural Areas," "sufficient in number and extent adequately to illustrate or typify virgin conditions of forest or range growth in each Forest or Range Region, to be retained in a virgin or unmodified condition for the purposes of science, research and education." No special use occupancies are per- mitted on Natural Areas, and no permanent improvements may be made except those required for experimental use. As of February 1963, there were eighteen U-4 "Natural Areas” in Region 6, comprising a total of 19,096 gross acres.ZZ/ Some of the early appeals for a wilderness-type or natural area reservation for scientific purposes, such as those by Pearson (1922) and Shelford (1933) who were principally ecologists, became submerged in the general wilderness debate. Zl/ U.S. Forest Service. Special designated recreation areas in Region Six. Portland, Oreg., 3 pp., mimeo. November 1, 1962. ZE/ U.S. Forest Service. Natural Areas, Region Six. Portland, Oreg., mimeo. February 1963. _-___. . . _ 4 266 The attachment of the scientific argument to the efforts of supporters of a larger area than eventually classified in the 1957 Three Sisters classification is a case in point. A con- siderably broader view, emphasizing large Wilderness Areas as suitable "laboratories" for social science research on people, has more recently been put forth by Joseph Fisher (1960). Informal or De Facto Wilderness On April 14 and 15, 1962, the Federation of Western Outdoor CluszE/ conducted its Fourth Biennial Northwest Wilderness Conference around "De Facto Wilderness” and its disappearance (Sawyer, 1962). This conference served to articulate a body of opinion which had been developing among wilderness proponents for over a decade in the Northwest. De facto wilderness can be defined as area which is in fact, but not in name, wilderness. David Brower, Executive Secretary of the Sierra Club, defined it at this conference as wilderness "God has set aside but the Forest Service has not yet created." Concern with de facto wilderness in the Northwest has been considerably enhanced by the former existence of specially designated, though not officially classified, areas on the National Forests called "Limited Areas." The wilderness pro- ponents conveyed to these areas an exalted wilderness status not 23! An organization composed of 38 hiking, climbing, and other western outdoor groups, including the powerful Sierra Club, and organized in 1932 "for Mutual Service and for the promotion of the Proper Use, Enjoyment and Protection of America's Scenic, Wilderness and Outdoor Recreation Resources.” 267 enjoyed by other undeveloped but nonclassified National Forest lands. Programs to promote the classification of these informal or de facto Wilderness Areas have been as vigorous as those urging the reclassification of Primitive Areas. Because of the relative uniqueness of this concept and its importance to Northwest wilderness, some of the history of de facto wilder- ness in the Northwest Region is given below. "Stopz Look and Listen” Areas On August 11, 1936, a memorandumZi/summarizing the attempt to develop uniform terminology for wilderness-type reservations on Federal lands by the Land Planning Committee of the National Resources Committee was sent to all Forest Service Regions. This occurred in the midst of concern by the Forest Service with the aptness of its own Primitive Area designations and policies. Regional Foresters were asked to ”try out" the system of classification recommended by the Land Planning Committee and advised as to general procedures to follow.Z§/ In addition, however, the Regional Foresters were advised of a separate memorandum (also dated August 11, 1936), which was being forwarded, asking for special consideration for "Roadless Areas" as such. They were reminded that a temporary Zi/ To Regional Foresters, all Regions, by L. F. Kneipp, Acting Chief of the Forest Service, Region 6 files, Portland. 22! Four classes of recreation areas were recommended: Developed class . Modified class Primitive class . Roadless class waH 268 ”embargo" upon roadbuilding in tentatively designated roadless areas would be required in order to make a permanent classifi- cation as a roadless area. In this second memorandum of August 11, 1936, Regional Foresters were informed that Mr. Robert Marshall, "at his own expense," had analyzed and prepared maps of all remaining roadless areas on the National Forests of the United States and that the relevant maps for each Region were enclosed for the Region's consideration. The Regional Foresters were told that it was not expected that each and all of every area would be acceptable, but, It will be appreciated if you will give the areas as roughly shown on the maps, careful consideration with the idea of recommending for classification as "Roadless” those areas of 100,000 acres or over which you believe should be so classified and managed. After warnings that transportation development needs would re- quire careful consideration in the face of such classifications, they were requested to undertake no new road projects within these suggested areas until they had considered the merits of the suggested areas for roadless classification and had reported their determinations to the Chief's office. Even though the classification record of Region 6 under Regulation L-ZO (and under U-l and U-2 later) had been little short of exemplary, the Region resisted the broadcast proposals for additional, large roadless areas. On February 4, 1937, Regional Forester Buck replied to the Chief's August 11, 1936, memorandum. Based on replies from Forest Supervisors and 269 Regional Office staff meetings relating to the proposed road- less areas, Mr. Buck came out strongly against the proposals, principally because of an expressed need for roads to support adequate fire prevention and suppression activities. Another memorandum of April 10, 1937, from Regional Forester Buck to the Chief, relating to timber matters was perhaps more revealing of the stiffening attitude on roadless areas of regional forest officers. In this memorandum Mr. Buck expressed his displeasure at the apparent pressure being put on his staff for designating "vast roadless areas” in the Region. He stated his concern that there was too much planning "based on scattered activity pressure" and too little on ‘ ”master planning" for all uses. He recommended a master plan for the "high mountain zone" along the upper slopes of the Cascade Mountains running through Oregon and Washington which would stress, ...soil conservation, watershed protection, flood control, recreation and wildlife as well as the economics of grazing and timber production, minerals and water power and irrigation developments. With all of these resources brought into the picture in analysis for land use planning, we would, I believe, have considerable areas with little timber utilization, few roads, ade- quate fire protection, and with the development of management policies it would contribute the maximum to human use. It was not until 1962, however, 25 years later, that such a high mountain zone master plan was finally accomplished in Region 6 (U.S. Forest Service, 1962), and it was a series of wilderness and recreation-related problems which eventually precipitated it. 270 Nevertheless, some of the suggested roadless areas were transferred to Region 6 maps and provided a nucleus of areas for consideration in later classification studies. Needless to say, wilderness proponents also became knowledgeable about the proposed roadless areas and sought means to hasten studies and classification. Moreover, in spite of this initial reluctance to identify additional roadless areas, apparently they were informally established during the late 1930's and early 1940's on most of the National Forests in the Region. On February 28, 1943, Ira J. Mason, then in the Region 6 Division of Recreation and Lands, sent a memorandum to the Supervisor of the Olympic National Forest relating to the Supervisor's contemplated plans to abandon the remnants of the old Olympic Primitive Area in order to add to the timber supply of the forest. Some concern for release of timber from "roadless” status was noted. In his discussion of this latter kind of area, Mason stated, "These roadless zones were set up without detailed information, largely on a 'Stop, look and listen' basis, and because of the insistent demands of park interests.” Only two weeks earlier, 0. F. Ericson of the Region 6 Division of Timber Management had written a memorandum to the Lands Division making specific mention of the "Stop, Look and Listen" roadless zones on the Olympic National Forest. These two and subsequent memoranda indicate the general use of the name "Stop, Look and Listen'I applied to the roadless zones resulting from the August 11, 1936, request from the Chief's office for roadless zone consideration. 271 As indicated in Mason's memorandum, ”Stop, Look and Listen" connoted the rather loose criteria used in identifying tentative roadless areas which were set up for further study. Generally, little more than an attempt to literally outline on maps areas which were roadless and yet rugged enough to possibly qualify for some kind of wilderness classification was made. No detailed study accompanied these delimitations. Limited Areas On September 16, 1944, H. J. Andrews, Regional Forester of Region 6, sent a memorandum to the Divisions of Lands, Engineering, and Operations, which designated a committee composed of several Regional Office staff members to: (l) devise a new name for ”roadless zones," (2) review boundaries of existing ”roadless ' and zones," (3) determine the need for new ”roadless zones} (4) correct all maps when the review was completed. This action reflected some discontent within the Forest Service with the rather awkward ”roadless zone" status and also inquiries from outside groups who were aware of some roads, both in and threatening some "roadless zones." A December 5, 1944, memorandum from the Region 6 Division of Recreation and Lands to the Chelan, Malheur, Mount Baker, Ochoco, and Wenatchee National Forests apprised these forests of the roadless zone review committee and its purposes. This memorandum also reviewed the reason for roadless zones, Several years ago, at the request of the Chief, and in order to exercise some overall control of road construc- tion during the C.C.C. program, a number of so-called 272 "Roadless Zones" were set up on the Forests of Region 6. Admittedly, the boundaries of these areas were hurriedly drawn and a considerable amount of territory which did not merit roadless treatment was included within the tentative boundaries. It is also recognized that the term "Roadless Zone” was a misnomer and has resulted in confusion, both within and without the Service. This December 5, 1944, memorandum also contained some guide- lines for reviewing the tentative "roadless zones": In regard to final boundaries, it should be remembered that there is always a possibility that at some future time they may be frozen and assume the status of wilder- ness or wild areas, within which no road construction is permitted, except under unusual circumstances, and then only with approval of the Chief. With this in mind, there appears to be no object in retaining within these areas any blocks of commercial timber which are now operable or soon will be operable. To reach this timber we know that roads will be required, and there appears no particular point in including lands which are certain to require roads within a comparatively few years. Similarly, if there are any checkerboard areas included involving alternate sections of 0&C, Northern Pacific, or other private lands, unless we plan their acquisition, these lands can well be dropped, since in their present status we would be unable to exert any overall control on road construction. On the other hand, the fact that we may in the future wish to build one or two cross roads traversing a large ”Stop, Look and Listen Zone” would not necessarily preclude continuation of the zone in its present lo- cation. Thus far these zones are still subject to direct control of the Regional Forester, and he may authorize construction of a road within one of them if he feels this is necessary for forest protection or administration. The forests were also told that they could suggest a new name although "Stop, Look and Listen" was favored by the com- mittee. In addition, the forests, in making their boundary judgments, were reminded to confer with representatives of outdoor groups and report adverse as well as favorable condi- tions. 273 By December 14, 9 of the 19 National Forests in the Region at that time had been reviewed, 4 had no "Stop, Look and Listen" zone possibilities, and 6 forests were yet to be considered. However, in his progress report of this date on the work of the review committee, A. J. Nelson of the Region 6 Engineering staff expressed a great deal of discontent with the name ”Stop, Look and Listen," referring to it as a "bland and meaningless term.” This memorandum then made the rounds of other Region 6 staff members, including Regional Forester Andrews who asked for suggestions. In a penciled scrawl at the bottom of this memorandum was a note by Frankland of Engineering: ”I say call 1 'em 'Limited Areas.'” On January 4, 1945, suggested substitutes for "roadless zone" were listed in a short memorandum by Grefe of the Division of Engineering. These were: 1. Limited Roads Area 2. Limited Roads Zone 3. Area of Limited Roads 4. Zone of Limited Roads His recommendation was: Recommend omitting the word "roads'and calling them simply "Limited Areas." This will be easy to use, is distinct from other terminology now in use, and is indefinite enough so that anyone not acquainted with its meaning will have to look it up, rather than to jump to erroneous conclusions. A memorandum to the files of June 19, 1945, by Emmett Blanchfield of the Division of Recreation and Land relates two 274 meetings (April 2 and June 18) with members of the Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs to discuss the newly named Limited Areas on the National Forests of Region 6. It was noted that these representatives of the outdoor groups approved a proposed map showing these areas. On February 7, 1946, copies of this outdoor-group—approved map of Limited Areas were sent to the forests asking for their review, comments, and approval. On June 18, 1946, the forests were advised that the Limited Area map had been approved by the Regional Forester and that Limited Areas was now an official Region 6 designation, and the former "roadless zone” designa- tions were cancelled. As of March 1, 1957, 14 Limited Areas were tentatively established on the Region's National Forests, and comprised a total of 1,342,953 acres.Zé/ Figure 18 shows the Limited Areas as of that date. 29] See map entitled "Dedicated Areas of Region 6,” U.S. Forest Service, Portland, Oreg., revised March 1, 1957. Two other Limited Areas, Diamond Peak and Mount Washington, had already been classified as Wild Areas. The gross acreage "dedicated” to special purposes on Region 6 National Forests as of this date was distributed as follows: Type Number Acres Wilderness Areas (incl. Primitive) 3 1,217,988 Wild Areas (incl. Primitive) 10 426,766 Limited Areas 14 1,342,953 Geological Areas 1 5,629 Natural Areas 18 19,716 Park Divisions 3 172,998 Memorial Parkways 1 23,300 Experimental Forests and Ranges _1_ 89,533 Total 57 3,298,883 275 PI a T.llomooll 0 Albany adunchon Cuy Eugenno ‘\ _,/' \ _'(/A\ ”ILL N013 _ j N “06/- 3L3iv$$w€o 1'70 VANCO‘IVI' I C mnlillo , ,f ’SNAKE onu I,“ R'VEIB D ("’qu Pundlslono \/ Q M' E “ in° “ht. oPomund ' v PREEK Fl? hfiHom ummuomv 316 'I 1- 317 for a safe road terminus and space for associated developed recreation use in Hurricane Valley. Earlier, the road proposal had been made to provide access to homesteaders and other local residents in the area, and this had aroused some opposition from local packers, notably a Mr. J. A. Hopkins, who complained that the proposed road extension would open up the area to competing packers. Pressure for additional road development in the Hurricane Creek drainage continued up through 1940. Other management problems, notably those dealing with maintaining an adequate balance between the supply of forage and the number of packer's and recreation user's stock, characterized the Eagle Cap case up until the mid-1950's. During the 1950's, the current controversy over road con- struction in the lower Minam Valley adjacent to the northwest side of the Wilderness Area was formed. The Minam River Valley within the National Forest boundary may be divided roughly into two parts: the upper Minam which is included within the Wilderness Area boundary; and the lower Minam which is not in the Wilderness Area but is nevertheless undeveloped. The lower Minam is considered by many to be prime wilderness-type area and is used as such by wilderness proponents. Sometime during the 1950's, the Forest Service dusted off some older plans to construct a road into the lower Minam in order to develop the timber resource and also provide easy- access recreation developments. The proposed road was to be 22 miles long, stretching from the forest boundary to a point near 318 the wilderness boundary and would generally follow the Minam River.§§/ The road was planned to serve a total of about 80,000 acres of land within the National Forest boundary. Included were 63,000 acres of commercial timberland with an estimated commercial volume of more than 350 million board feet.§fl/ Additional incentive for road construction was provided by Izaak Walton League criticism of the Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management for not providing hunter access to certain public lands in eastern Oregon such as the Minam Valley. This criticism was strengthened by Oregon State Game Commission comments on lack of hunter access to public lands in Wallowa County.§§/ On April 20, 1960, the action was joined by the Sierra Club which urged on the Chief of the Forest Service a hearing on the proposed road since permitting the road would, it was believed, constitute an irreversible decision, changing the area from de facto wilderness to an area of commodity use.§§/ This urging was at first rebuffed with the statement,87/ §§f See letter from J. Herbert Stone, R-6 Regional Forester, November 19, 1958, to Mr. Leslie Simpson of the Sportsmen Protective Association. §flj Letter from Chief of the Forest Service to Oregon Congressman Al Ullman, dated September 10, 1959. §§/ Ibid. §§f Letter of April 20, 1960, from David Brower, Executive Secretary, Sierra Club, to Chief, Forest Service. §Z/ Letter of July 1, 1960, from Chief of the Forest Service to David Brower, Sierra Club. 319 ...we cannot agree to hold hearings as an ordinary across-the-board matter whenever we propose to develop national forest areas.... This conceivably might result in innumerable hearings which could completely hamper, forestall, and delay actions which we must take in discharging the responsibilities assigned to us by the Congress and the Secretary. A hearing was eventually scheduled, however, for May 23, 1961, at La Grande, Oregon, by the Regional Forester. Even though the intent of the hearing was to discuss the road proposal, it was evident by this time that sentiment in favor of the addition of the lower Minam to the Wilderness Area had developed. The Regional Forester conceded that he expected to hear such pro- posals, and correspondence from outside groups indicated they expected the hearing to relate to expansion of the Wilderness Area. The Forest Service position prior to the La Grande hearing was summed up as follows:§§/ Since there are so many more people who make use of campgrounds accessible by road than there are people who wish to hike or ride in the wilderness areas, it would not be beneficial to the public as a whole to increase the size of the relatively unused existing wilderness area. I believe our proposed road will be beneficial to both types of users by providing additional camp- ground fishing and hunting use in the lower portion of the drainage, and by making the present large wilderness area more accessible to those who wish to use it. §§/ Letter from Mr. Frank Folsom, Regional Office, Region 6, to Mr. Gerald Paul Marsello, What Cheer, Iowa, August 1, 1960. 320 Immediately following the La Grande hearing (on the same night, in fact), a new organization named "Save the Minam, Inc." was formed by a group dissatisfied with the apparent disinclination of the Forest Service to open the hearings to discussion of including the Minam within the Eagle Cap Wilderness Area. This organization capitalized on portions of Associate Supreme Court Justice William 0. Douglas' book "My Wilderness" (1960), which dealt in part with the Minam Valley in the vicinity of a well- known resort, Red's Horse Ranch. A summary of the La Grande hearing§2/ enumerated 36 people and organizations opposed to the road proposal, and 11 individuals and organizations in favor. Organizations opposing the road were: 1. Sierra Club 2. National Parks Association 3. Young Democratic Club of Oregon 4. Mountaineers 5. Union County Chapter, Izaac Walton League 6. Mazamas 7. Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs 8. Powder River Sportsmen Club 9. Powder River Sportsmen Magazine 10. Oregon Wildlife Federation §2/ Memorandum of May 25, 1961, from Assistant Regional Forester W. W. Gano to the Regional Forester, Region 6. 11. 12. 321 Cove Sportsmen Club Wallowa Grange Lumber companies, timber trade associations, and chambers of commerce favored the Forest Service proposal. Leading opposition arguments were: 1. The Minam is definitely wilderness in character and should be maintained in that condition. Oregon does not have enough wilderness. This is an available wilderness and it has not been shown that other areas are not available for mass recreation development. Development of the drainage will destroy unique fishing values as well as damage the elk herds. Logging will yield serious adverse effects on water quality. The annual value of $50,000 stumpage receipts is insufficient to offset the capital investment and annual maintenance costs for developing the available timber resources. Moreover, it has not been shown that timber needs cannot be met from other areas. The Forest Service should spend its money in the improvement of roads and other areas subject to heavy use. Because logging technologies are changing, we should withhold development pending the perfection of such methods as helicopter logging, which would have a lesser adverse effect on the area. 322 Leading arguments of those in favor of the road plan were: 1. The area is ideally adapted to multiple use, which can be achieved only by development of a suitable road system. The 4-1/2 million board-foot sustained yield capacity of the area was estimated to have a value to the local economy of $675,000 annually, including: (1) $200,000, payrolls; (2) $100,000, railroad freight; (3) $375,000, sawmill equipment, depreciation, stumpage, profit. Annual stumpage of $60,000 to $90,000 yields significant contributions to receiving counties in the form of the 25 percent in-lieu road and school fund payment. Road development would permit from 30,000 to 50,000 annual recreation visits compared with current 2,000 to 3,000. Current inaccessibility imposed continuous threat of fire fighting problems. I The attention this area was receiving forced Forest Service and other interested parties to give extra- ordinary effort to the highest and best integration of logging and recreation. Increased accessibility would permit more intensive management of big game populations and thereby relieve watershed damage being experienced and attributed to excessive wildlife numbers. 323 8. Accessibility of area was more than a local issue since increased accessibility would provide for greater benefits to a larger number of people. 9. The proposed road development would in no way injure the classified Wilderness Area. During the succeeding month, increased pressure was applied to the Forest Service via local Congressmen and Senators, acting in behalf of queries from constituents, to reconsider the road plan. Finally, on June 7, 1961, Secretary of Agriculture Freeman announcedggf that due to the prolonged and increasing public interest in the management of certain Forest Service lands (including the Minam Valley) in the Northwest, he had asked the Forest Service to "make a careful analysis of these high mountain areas and to prepare a statement of long-range management policy and objectives." The result of this study was issued in April of 1962 as "Management Objectives and_ Policies for the High Mountain Areas of the National Forests of the Pacific Northwest Region" (Forest Service, 1962). On June 21 and July 17, 1963, public meetings on a modified plan for the Minam were held by the Forest Service in Portland and La Grande, Oregon. At that time, an ll,OOO-acre addition to the Wilderness Area, a new location for a shorter road, a 23,000-acre recreation area adjacent to the river where 29! Letter from Secretary Freeman to Senators Morse and Neuberger of Oregon and Jackson and Magnuson of Washington, dated June 7, 1961. 324 logging would be modified to protect scenic values, and the remaining 45,000 acres or so developed principally for logging were proposed. This proposal was also attacked by the outdoor groups as representing little basic change from the original proposal. This area has now been restudied and a new proposal has been prepared by the Forest Service. Three Sisters: Science vs. Logging Figures 23, 24, and 25 show the boundaries and prominent landmarks of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area. On May 28, 1937, a 191,108-acre Three Sisters Primitive Area was established by the Chief of the Forest Service under the authority of Regulation L-20. This area features some of the most spectacular mountain peaks, composed of extinct volcanoes, of the central Oregon Cascades and is located on the Deschutes and Willamette National Forests. The Three Sisters are three of these adjacent peaks. In 1938 a "western addition" of some 56,000 acres was made, increasing the size of the Primitive Area to approximately 247,000 acres. The Three Sisters Primitive Area establishment report (which was, interestingly enough, signed and approved by a Mr. Alfred T. Kelley, chairman of the Recreation Committee of the IPortland Chamber of Commerce) stated that although considerable timber was included in the area, none of the forest types had any commercial value at that time and it had been placed in a l'nonoperable zone" status. This forest cover was hence deemed 325 D THREE SISTERS WILDERNESS AREA Duchutu a Vlluamllu Noun-I nun" Molar. 6 U. s. For“! 50"ch "WI Q Ell. W LEGEND — Illluvnu Ann Ion-«n lulu I' I If all» “I! MONO Figure 23.--Map of Three Sisters Wilderness Area. 326 (Forest Service photo) Figure 24.-~Hikers on the Obsidian Trail at the Lava Beds pause to view North (left) and South Sisters, Three Sisters Wilderness Area. 327 -~.. ...an. . 48356| (Forest Service photo 7 7 Figure 25.-~The Three Sisters, Three Sisters Wilderness Area. 1 328 most valuable for watershed protection and recreation. Mineral values were considered to be nonexistent and strong public sentiment in favor of Primitive Area classification was re- ported. Field work for the original Primitive Area study was initiated in the summer of 1933.2l/ The final report dated October 24, 1935, was reviewed by various outdoor groups before it was finally approved a year and a half later. The 1938 "western addition" of 55,620 acres arose apparently out of the attention that was given to the nationwide recrea- tion survey of the 1930's, especially the roadless zones, one of which this was in part, proposed by Robert Marshall. This addition was noted to be roadless and the timber contained therein was mostly young growth and consequently of little value at the time. Later, however, it was felt by the Forest Service and others that the ”western addition" should not have been made because it appeared to contain substantial volumes of merchantable timber which could yield significant support to the local economy in the light of more recent circumstances. In August of 1950 a field trip through the area of looming controversy was sponsored by the Forest Service in order to acquaint various factions, principally wilderness proponents, with the timber and other features of the area. It was also 2i] Much of the following is based upon an unpublished report in Region 6 files, Portland, entitled ”Brief on Three Sisters Wilderness Area (Proposed)," dated August 7, 1953. 329 looked upon as an opportunity to sample public opinion. The consensus of this group was that the boundary of the Three Sisters Area should be changed to eliminate the "western addition" and that the remaining Primitive Area should be reclassified as a Wilderness Area under Regulation U-l. It was also the consensus of the group that the adjacent Diamond Peak, Waldo Lake, and Mount Washington Limited Areas should be classified as Wild Areas. 0n Labor Day, 1950, the Federation ‘ of Western Outdoor Clubs unanimously approved these proposals at its annual meeting. I In July 1951, however, another field trip was conducted through this ”western addition" by the Forest Service in response to the demand from a group of people with scientific interests, including faculty from the University of Oregon and Oregon State University. The so-called "science enthusiastV had always opposed exclusion of this 55,000+-acre area on the grounds that it represented a unique ecological community, where both northern and southern plant and animal species were found at the limits of their ranges. The range of elevation in the area is from about 2,000 feet in the Horse Creek River valley to over 10,000 feet at the summits of the Three Sisters. This represents one of the greatest altitudinal ranges in the Cascade Mountain Range and includes biological life zones ranging from upper human to arctic alpine. It was the feeling of members of this group that the entire Horse Creek drainage would need to be retained to protect the native fauna which ¥ 330 tend to utilize entire drainage basins. Consequently, the group favored the Horsepasture Mountain-Olallie Mountain ridge west of Horse Creek as the western boundary. About 12,000 acres were contained in the unit between Horse Creek and the Horsepasture Mountain-Olallie Mountain ridge to the west. Three major articles on this issue were published by Dr. Ruth Hopson, a biology professor at Portland State College, stressing the suitability of this area as a unique outdoor laboratory (Hopson, 1951a, 1951b, 1954). As a result of the field trip, the science group unani- mously passed a resolution accepting the boundary along Horse Creek with the proviso that the Forest Service make a joint study with scientific groups of the area west of Horse Creek to determine if it should or should not be included in the classified area. The reasons advanced for eliminating the area west of Horse Creek were: 1. It does not meet the standards of wilderness classi- fication. 2. It unnecessarily ties up timber which might well be harvested systematically and still not interfere with the recreation use of the area. 3. It provides better access to the remaining Wilderness Area which has been restricted because no ready access is available. I In spite of this accord, the Labor Day 1952 annual meeting of the Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs witnessed the passage 331 of a resolution favoring the western ridge boundary rather than Horse Creek. This created a minor schism in the organization inasmuch as the Trails Club of Portland favored the Horse Creek boundary with the proviso for a joint study. In December of 1954 an insightful statement on the expand- ing Three Sisters problem was prepared by G. E. Cannon, Portland insurance executive and Trails Club member.2g/ Cannon mentions the point that many "conservative" persons felt that so much land was being tied up in wilderness that it would handicap the economy of the region. He paid particular attention, however, to "boundary considerations”: The boundary of any given wilderness area again is a matter of judgment. Final boundaries are fixed by the Forest Service (and approved by the Secretary of Agriculture) usually after careful consideration and listening to all sides. It seems logical that the following factors should be of great importance in arriving at a decision: 1. The natural features of the area should be included. This seems almost obvious and examples are found in well—known areas in Region 6, such as Eagle Cap, Goat Rocks, Mt. Jefferson, Three Sisters, Mt. Adams, etc. 2. Natural boundaries should be used where feasible. Ridges and streams are examples of such boundaries. Both of these have been used to good advantage for boundaries between countries, e.g., France and Spain (Pyrenees), United States and Mexico (Rio Grande River). Although not a natural boundary, a section line is also an acceptable boundary in some cases, as it can be readily defined and located. h... 23/ G. E. Cannon. The Three Sisters Wilderness Area, uh- Published report, Region 6 files, Portland. December 27, 1954. 332 3. Boundaries should be placed at defensible positions. Under a system of multiple-use management an area must have high priority to be set aside for wilderness classification where timber operations, recreational developments, etc., are denied. Before setting the boundaries, care should be taken to see that the area included is definitely of the character which will be recognized and used as wilderness country. If it does not so measure up then other uses should be permitted. To set aside as wilderness country ordinary forested land merely because no roads or other develop- ments are now in the area is merely asking for future trouble. As pressures develop, as they most surely will, reconsiderations are demanded and the boundary question is again forced open. .In this way some real high caliber wilderness country could be lost. Therefore great care should be exercised in fixing a boundary which is defensible giving proper consideration to all factors involved whenever the question of the boundary is under consideration. The third point above was closely related to another made by Cannon. He emphasized the problem of calling into question the integrity of particular areas and the classifying agency by surrendering any Wilderness Area or portion thereof that has previously been set aside. During this formative period of the conflict, a new or— ganization named "Friends of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area" was formed in Eugene, Oregon. A strongly worded attack on the Forest Service proposal for excluding the area west of Horse Creek was published in the Mountaineer in January 1955 and was entitled "How Much of Your Three Sisters Wilderness Area Do You Want to Give Away?" This was aimed at enlisting support at the hearings on the proposed classification which were scheduled at Eugene on February 16 and 17, 1955, by the Regional Forester. .x‘ 333 The opening day of the Three Sisters proposed classifi- cation hearings in Eugene was marked by the attendance of over 200 prospective witnesses.2§/ By the time the record was closed on March 16, 1955, 512 pages of testimony had been taken. 1 This was the first substantial public hearing of its kind in Northwest Forest Service history. Eighty-six oral statements were made and 68 exhibits were filed during the course of the hearings. Additional letters and statements filed during and after the hearings comprised the bulk of the record of testi- mony. A total of 683 statements from 566 individuals and 117 groups, with national as well as local affiliations, was re— ceived. The bulk of testimony pertained to the proposed loca- tion of the western boundary. There were essentially four alternatives discussed; (1) the original Primitive Area Boundary west of Horsepasture Mountain-Olallie Mountain ridge; (2) Horsepasture Mountain—Olallie Mountain ridge; (3) Horse Creek; (4) Separation Ridge east of Horse Creek. Reasons given in support of the first two alternatives were summarized by the presiding officer at the hearings as follows: 1. Increased population and shorter workweeks will re- quire larger, not smaller areas for people to enjoy. 2. Scientific, geologic, ecologic, and botanical ‘22! See "Presiding Officers Report; Three Sisters Wilderness Area Hearing; February 16-17, 1955; Eugene, Oregon; C. C. Carlson, Attorney in Charge." Region 6 files, Portland. fi—n-_ ‘;-h.-. 334 features are not duplicated elsewhere in the area. Due to close proximity to the University of Oregon and to Oregon State College, the area would con- stitute an outdoor scientific laboratory for study of flora and fauna not found in higher elevations. This area is outstanding in its scenic attractions which would be changed or destroyed if opened to logging. Area should be preserved because of intangible or spiritual values which inure to those who would use the area in the future. "Small amount" of timber involved is not of sufficient worth to sacrifice intangible values. Destroying these areas will create a "kind of poverty." Preserving the area will better afford protection to watershed and from fire hazard. Reduction of size of present area will create a precedent which will carry over into other similar areas. Area should be preserved for future generations and let them decide what should be done. It was pointed out by some that a ridge constitutes a better boundary for administrative purposes. Area could be preserved if there were proper utiliza- tion of present available timber supplies through the building of additional access roads, better ...1 - .-.an—“H .. ll. 13. 14. 335 conservation practices on the part of timber operators and forest research to eliminate "present waste." Multiple use practices need not be applied to all areas since many uses cannot be combined. This area should be preserved as a wilderness. Some expressed the fear that if the Forest Service proposal were adopted, it would result in Separation Ridge being the ultimate boundary. Some testimony indicated that economic considerations favor retention of the present boundary; that while approximately 75 families may be benefited by making available additional timber resources, many families with presently established businesses along the McKenzie River would be adversely and materially affected, since logging in the area would have a detrimental effect on the river and many of its tributaries for fishing and recreation. It would be more practicable to have management of timber cutting on an entire watershed basis as compared to only half a watershed as proposed by the Forest Service. The suggestion was made that national policy with regard to Wilderness Areas should be established by law and not left to administrative discretion. A general summation of arguments in favor of the two easternmost boundaries was also provided: 336 The economic future of an entire community will be affected if additional timber is not made available. The ”greatest good for the greatest number in the long run" tells that the area should be opened to logging. Some witnesses indicated that in their opinion all merchantable timber in the Wilderness Area should be available for cutting. Scientific values of the area proposed to be withdrawn are generally duplicated elsewhere in the remainder of the area. Further, the "ecologic formation" will not be disturbed or the area devastated. Only ”selected" trees will be cut. The area proposed to be withdrawn should be opened up to logging as a conservation and preservation meaSure-—timber is a crop which must be harvested as it matures or it becomes disease-infected and dies. Presently there are more Wilderness Areas than we need, and only a comparative few are benefited by these areas. The proposed Horse Creek boundary is most logical and defensible and blends all interests. Further, it will best resist future pressures for additional and more drastic changes. The Forest Service representatives are specialists who have made a detailed study of the entire matter, 337 and the final decision should be left up to the specialists. 8. The proposed area to be withdrawn should be opened up to logging because of intangible and spiritual values whidh would accrue to many now, and because of what it would mean to future generations; that is, more schools, better educations, and the necessities of life. It was stated that while children have souls which need nourishing, they also have stomachs which . must be fed. 9. Timber operators are working on the problem of better utilization, and considerable progress has been made. 10. By opening up the area, more people would be able to enjoy it because of roads and access. 11. A suggestion was made to establish the boundary along Separation Ridge and then appoint a committee of "scientific men and women" to study how much of the area west of Separation Ridge is needed for scientific study and research; then set these special areas aside. A Region 6 summary analysis of the voting" is given in an unpublished office report.2fl/ In this analysis a cross- tabulation of the four boundary alternatives with major classes of reasons supporting the alternatives is made. The report noted that, ”This tabulation has, perhaps, little value except 23! Region 6 files, Portland, Oreg., dated June 10, 1955. ¥A -)\ 338 as a summary of the popularity of the respective boundary proposals. It does not, we believe, have any value in determin- ing which boundary proposal is most suitable." The five broad categories of reasons which were offered in support of the four boundary proposals were: (1) "economics," (2) "protection," (3) "recreation," (4) "science," and (5) "watershed." One of the problems of such a tabulation, of course, is that not all of the statements in support of the boundary which is favored give reasons to support this favoring. In addition, some of the statements or letters listed several reasons which supported the boundary which the writers favor; so there is a tendency toward double counting. A third problem in this method is that sometimes the specific boundary that is favored is not mentioned, so the letter or testimony can't be tabulated in support of any particular boundary proposal. This method does have some utility, nevertheless, in weighing the reasons in support of the alternative boundary recommenda- tions. For example, the boundary recommendation of "no change" relies most heavily on the "recreation" reason which received a total count of 220 out of the total 415 for no change. The Olallie Ridge proposal, on the other hand, also received a relatively heavy vote on the recreation reason, drawing a count of 85 out of 160 that supported this proposal. The clear-cut distinction between these two western boundaries and the two eastern boundaries is also shown in the tabulation of the count for Horse Creek and Separation Ridge. In the case of the Horse .. a ,.m--—- _ 339 Creek boundary, 202 of the total 244 in favor of this alterna— tive were based on the "economic" reason. The same thing was true generally for the Separation Ridge alternative where a count of 49 out of 69 total was recorded on an economic reason. What these counts amount to, of course, is simply the number of times that they were mentioned in support of the particular alternative by these individuals or groups. " in favor of the In spite of the heavy recorded "vote western boundaries (2 to 1 over the "vote" for the eastern boundaries), the Forest Service decided in favor of the Horse Creek boundary. Reasons which weighed heavily in this decision were: (1) the economic values of the timber supply, (2) the fact that Natural Area classification was the means by which scientific study areas were set aside and further attention would be given to the Olallie Ridge area to determine its suitability for Natural Area classification, (3) the distinc- tiveness and general "defensibility" of Horse Creek as a boundary. During the period of the hearings and thereafter until the Three Sisters Wilderness Area was finally classified in 1957, many of the recurring themes in the wilderness debate were rediscovered or polished. One of these was expressed as .4.’¢-~— . . follows:2§/ summers; and I have known, and still have close friends, among persons in high positions in state and national Forest Service administrative jobs and, excepting for Lyle Watts, I have yet to find one trained forester who genuinely loved the woods and the wilderness; they have an "intellectual" acceptance of that value, but mighty little feeling to back it up--perhaps that is why every time a logger wants some timber the Forest Service is seemingly only too willing to take his side. 1 w When I went through college I worked in the forests 1 Another, Professor Storm of Oregon State College, stated,2§/ "It seems to me that the dedication of 100 square miles of primitive forest as a permanent laboratory for research may very well result in knowledge that will mean savings amounting to many times the present lumber worth of this area 300, 400, or even 1,000 years." A statement by Mr. John D. Scottglj underscores the im- portance of the shape of the area as opposed to mere size in acres, "The shape of the area also matters. Obviously, a strip 1 mile wide and 225 miles long could not be as effective as a block 15 miles square. Yet, both would contain the same acreage." A statement by G. Edward Graves2§/ contains a quote from 22! Letter from A. Weston Niemela to Dr. Richard E. McArdle, Chief, Forest Service, dated February 23, 1955, Region 6 files, Portland. Mr Niemela's letter contains one of the clearest statements of a particular point of view that is not often published but frequently occurs in private conversations. 29f Hearings on the Three Sisters Wilderness Area. 21! Ibid. 2§j Ibid. 341 a 1946 article by Sigurd Olson in National Parks Magazine entitled, ”We Need Wilderness." Graves quotes Olson as follows: "Wilderness to the people of America is a spiritual necessity, an anecdote to the high pressure of modern life, a means of regaining serenity and equilibrium." There are many other ideas in this article that Graves quotes. It seems to represent one of the most complete and clear state— ments presented by wilderness enthusiasts. Some of the things mentioned are: l. Perspective is the most important thing that people go to wilderness for. 2. People go to wilderness for the good of their souls. 3. In wilderness people become "in tune" with sun and stars and all natural things, and thereby become happy and content. 4. The inherent urge for naturalness and simplicity is revealed in a way of life different from the one we know. 5. A reservation of wilderness is a sign of national cultural maturity. 6. Wilderness Areas are investments in national character. The statement ofPatrickB. Goldsworthy,22/ chairman of the Pacific Northwest Chapter of the Sierra Club, presents the Concept called "wilderness unit." Quoting Goldsworthy: -———— 22! Ibid. 342 If any single geographical feature can be defined as a "unit of wilderness" it is a valley, with its water courses being the dominating feature in the centers of ecological population. For many small animals, a single valley is large enough to supply its natural wants of food and living space. Other larger fauna require many such "wilderness units" as they forage from one valley to the next. Invasion by man of one slope of a valley would certainly result in the retreat of much of the animal population from the opposite valley slope into an adjacent valley. The ridge behind which the animal now seeks seclusion now becomes the wilderness boundary. In a country where less than one percent of the land has been set aside as wilderness, we cannot afford to reduce the area by just one more ridge. Because portions of the rest of his testimony are also clear statements of this concept and are repeated frequently in statements by wilderness enthusiasts they, too, are quoted below: The valley as a "wilderness unit" is applicable to man as well. As long as he is surrounded by ridges which shut out the sight and sound of "developments" of his fellows he can capture the sensation of being in a wilderness. If he can see a road and logged off areas, or hear trucks and machinery on the opposite valley slopes, he will have to follow the animals in search of wilderness. It is an all or none proposition for a valley to be a wilderness for either man or the native flora and fauna. There can be no compromise, since a "wil- derness unit" immediately ceases to be a wilderness as soon as there is any exploitation of even the smallest fraction of the area. A rather standard retort issued by some timber interests is reflected in the statement of W. 0. Kelsay,l99/ of Roseburg, Oregon, representing the Paul B. Hult Lumber Company. Mr. 199! Ibid. 343 Kelsay rode the opportunity cost concept to the limit. He made calculations of the opportunity costs of "locking up" the timber in the 55,000-acre Horse Creek area. He estimated that the allowable cut of 16 million board feet a year on these 55,000 acres would yield about $260,000 in stumpage returns and $60,000 of in-lieu payments to the counties. In these terms, the 100 people or so using the area annually for wilder- ness and recreation purposes would cost over $1,000 apiece for that use. If payroll is considered, then this would amount to an estimated $400,000 a year and the cost per person for each wilderness user from $10,000 to $12,000 apiece. By counting the multiplier effects and all the other jobs and services and dependent payrolls, each wilderness user would cost the community from $25,000 to $50,000 a year according to his estimates. The statement by Ted Barnes, Roseburg, Oregon,l9l/ takes exception to the negligibility argument of the wilderness enthusiasts and contains a number of homely little comparisons. One of these is, "And to draw another comparison, as we look at the cow's tail, we don't figure that this is very important in the production of milk and butterfat, but ladies and gentle- men, it is very important to the cow." Another statement, that of Professor J. R. Dilworth,l9§/ 191! Ibid. 192! Ibid. i 1 1. 344 Oregon State College, Department of Forestry, supported the easternmost proposal--Separation Ridge. He stated: "As foresters we feel that the basic requirements of a wilderness area have been provided for by the Separation Ridge boundary, and that neither Lane County nor the State of Oregon can afford a large area of productive forest land removed from production." Dilworth also made estimates of the opportunity costs of in- cluding the area in the wilderness boundaries. The increased allowable cut of 24 million board feet (that is, everything west of Separation Ridge), assuming $20 a thousand board feet for stumpage, amounts to $480,000 per year. Twenty-five percent of this amount for lieu—of-taxes payments would amount to $120,000 ‘. per year. He estimated that the income to Lane County and its people from this timber would amount to more than $1 million a year. He also mentioned some investment data. For example, the Federal Government, he said, had in excess of $60 million of investment in timber within the boundaries of the Primitive Area. In addition, Lane County had a $15 million interest in this timber. The statement of Charles Peck,l§§/ sawmill operator, con- tained some of the lighter comments of the hearing, such as: It seems that you have kind of ranged on two sides and somebody forgot the one in the middle, the moral standpoint. I haven't seen a clergyman up here yet. And believe me, you folks need one sometimes. 103 “’j Ibid. 345 You're dealing with men's souls and their kids and you're getting dollars mixed up in it and it doesn't work. Howard Zahniser of the Wilderness Society also stressed a recurring themelgflj by suggesting that the timber economy of Lane County was going downhill in the sense that excess capacity existed, and it was shortly going to have to be brought into line with the yield capacity of the forest. Logging the now Primitive Area would delay for only a short time an "inevitable" reduction in the size of the local industry. Hence, why destroy the wilderness? Why not begin now, with this classification, to make the necessary adjustments? During this same period (and stimulated in part by the Three Sisters case) a letterlgij from David Brower, Executive Director of the Sierra Club, was written to Secretary of Agriculture Ezra Taft Benson suggesting a multiple resource review to complement the Timber Resource Review (U.S. Forest Service, 1958). Brower was particularly concerned with wilderness and recreation resources. Chief McArdle of the Forest Service replied to Brower's letter on February 16, 1956. In his letter McArdle had the following to say: We are very much interested in your suggestion that a study be made of outdoor recreation resources and HE Ibid. $92! Dated January 25, 1956; Region 6 files, Portland, Oreg. 346 requirements which would be comparable in scope to the Timber Resources Review. We agree that such a study is desirable. This matter was discussed at some length at a small dinner given by Resources for the Future last week. Connie Worth, Horace Albright, Harleen James, Howard Zahniser, Joe Prendergrass, Pink Gutermuth, and Fred Packard, were among the guests. There seems to be general agreement that a survey of future recreation needs and lands suitable for and available to meet those needs was desirable. Sentiment was also expressed that no one public agency could undertake such a study since the steadily increasing public demand for recreation opportunities would require state, municipal, Federal, and private lands for its fulfillment. Anything less than a study on a national scale would not give adequate data. We may infer that the Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission had part of its heritage in this meeting. Brower replied to McArdle on March 14, 1956. One of his comments is quoted below: I know that for the most part these paragraphs are a matter of carrying coals to Newcastle—~pleas for wilderness preservation to the agency which set up the idea of wilderness preservation in the first place. I guess we carry these coals now because we feel remiss in not...having worked harder a few years ago in the Three Sisters controversy, and in its clash between board feet and wilderness. The board- foot advocates have all the material that has gone into your Timber Resource Review to help them out. The wilderness advocates, on the other hand, have nothing like a TRR to turn to. Like you, they only know that such a study as a wilderness resource re- view is desirable. Another paragraph from this letter is also important for its statement of a point of View and is as follows: Lacking a WRR, then, we must do what we can with persuasion and faith, hoping that the people who recommend and make the decisions will appreciate the actual handicap under which we all operate--hoping that they are as anxious as we to preserve something besides commodity world, with some place to go where people won't be elbow to elbow everywhere. The 225-million people we hear constantly predicted for 347 1975 will have to do some rationing to get by with what wilderness we have now. And if we modify what we have now, the people of the year 2000 are going to be hard put to have a creek to be up. For more than a year following the Eugene hearings the Forest Service deliberated on the proposed classifications. Senator Richard Neuberger of Oregon, among others, chided the Department and Forest Service officials for this delay.49§/ Finally, on February 6, 1957, the reclassification under Regulation U-l was accomplished.lQZ/ A portion of this rather lengthy statement is reproduced below and reflects substantial concessions to the pleas of the wilderness proponents and the "science enthusiasts:" The entire record of the public hearing, and all other pertinent facts have been carefully evaluated and it is my conclusion that the area west of Horse Creek should not be classified as wilderness. In arriving at this conclusion it was felt that the Wilderness and Wild areas in the Central Cascades in Oregon, including the revised Three Sisters area and the new Diamond Peak and Mt. Washington Wild Areas established by the Chief of the Forest Service under Regulation U-2, would satisfy the wilderness needs in that locality. Such scientific, recreation and scenic values as exist in the area west of Horse Creek can be protected and preserved without materially interfering with other uses under a speci- fic multiple-use management plan. A road up the west side of Horse Creek would provide more generally accessible take-off points from the west to the Wilderness area, the high Three Sisters peaks and high lakes and streams of the Cascades. It would also lgé/ Letter from Senator Richard Neuberger to Secretary of Agriculture Ezra Taft Benson, dated July 2, 1956. £21/ See "Decision of the Secretary of Agriculture Establishing the Three Sisters Wilderness Area, Willamette and Deschutes National Forests, Oregon." 348 afford access, now generally absent from the western side of the Wilderness, for such protection as it may subsequently require from fire, insect and disease penetrations. It is therefore determined and decided that the western boundary of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area be established on Horse Creek and that approximately 197,000 acres lying east of Horse Creek shall be re— classified as a Wilderness area in accordance with Regulation U-l. A detailed description of land included in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area is attached. The 53,000 acres, more or less, west of Horse Creek which were formerly a part of the Three Sisters Primitive Area will be managed hereafter as a multiple— use area. The Forest Service is directed to prepare a multiple-use management plan for this area. This plan will provide for full protection to the adjacent Wilderness area for the purposes for which it has been established. Within the 53,000 acres management prac— tices will be modified where necessary to preserve areas of special botanical and geological significance. The plan also will provide for development of public camping and picnicking for family-type recreation on sites suitable for those purposes. The design of the trans- portation system will take into consideration the access needs for recreational purposes as well as other re— sources. In line with established policy, water—front and roadside zones and observation points will be set aside as needed for protection and enjoyment of scenic values. Timber harvest will proceed in an orderly manner and in accordance with sound silvicultural practices. Special care will be taken to preserve soil values and to obtain prompt regeneration of areas from which timber is removed. Thinning and other timber stand im- provement work will be practiced in areas of special need to maintain health and vigorous stands where such work does not detract from other values of the immediate area. Any areas of extraordinary botanical significance disclosed as existing in the area will be established as Natural areas under Regulation U-4 (36 CFR 251.23). No development or timber cutting will occur in the 53,000 acres west of Horse Creek until the manage- ment plan has been prepared as directed. 349 The Forest Service will also give careful attention, in its multiple-use management plans for all national- forest lands along the exterior boundaries of the areas provided for herein, to protection of the values sought to be preserved. Such attention shall be evidenced in management plans for each and all working circles which have boundaries contiguous with those of the Wilderness area subject to this decision. The Forest Service should also give similar attention in multiple-use plans for all lands under its jurisdiction bounding established Wild and Wilderness areas. Glacier Peak: Capstone of the Controversy No other case in the Northwest, or perhaps in the Nation, elicited the fervor and range of arguments on both sides of the wilderness classification issue nationwide as did the Glacier Peak case. It is particularly notable as a Northwest case, since it aptly illustrated key concepts in the legacy of wilderness-type land use designations in the Region and pro- vided a propitious opportunity for expression of the entire spectrum of recurring themes in the debate. Furthermore, the land use study which was carried out by the Forest Service in its classification analysis was the pilot effort in developing a method for making multiple use land management plans on Region 6 National Forests. Finally, the case occurred at a time when the concept of multiple use forestry per se was being both severely criticized and highly praised. It seems certain that much of the support for, and some opposition to, the Multiple Use--Sustained Yield Act of 1960 could be traced to the Glacier Peak case through the role it played in precipitat- ing the political atmosphere surrounding the passage of the act. 350 The present 458,505-acre Glacier Peak Wilderness Area in Washington State's Cascade Range (figs. 26, 27, 28, and 29) was classified September 6, 1960, by Assistant Secretary of Agriculture E. L. Peterson.l9§/ While this area was never a classified area until 1960, it was one of the original roadless— type areas considered early for wilderness suitability. The Glacier Peak area has traditionally been in the heart of areas proposed in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State for National Park dedication. History of interest in the area's National Park and scenic and wilderness qualities begins at least as early as 1906 with a Mazama Club proposal for a park or "preserve" (McCloskey, 1963). In 1926, A Glacier Peak Association met in Wenatchee, Washington, to consider a National Park in this area, but dropped the proposal in favor of action by the Forest Service.192/ In 1931, the Acting Regional Forester for Region 6 established a Glacier Peak-Cascades Recreation Unit of some 234,000 acres in the vicinity of Glacier Peak. This was, however, to be a "developed” recreation area, com- plete with chalets and park-type trails, rather than entirely wilderness. In 1936, a Forest Service proposal for a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area was made.ll9/ It was tentatively withdrawn 19§/ See "Decision of the Secretary of Agriculture Establishing the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area, Mount Baker and Wenatchee National Forests, Washington." 192] A short history of National Park interests in this area is given in a preliminary office report by Region 6, "Analysis of National Forest Lands Included in a Proposal for a Northern Cascades National Park," Region 6 files, Portland. Dec. 1962. $19] Cleator, F. W. Report on Glacier Peak Wilderness 350a GLACIER PEAK WILDERNESS AREA' Mt. Baker 8: Wonatchu National Forum Region 6 U.S. Fomt Suvlco LEGEND -— Wildemou Am: Boundary 504‘“ "'57: "Ma G.w.w. 8/18/60 L, - . . .. Figure 26.-_-Map of Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. _*'—!—‘ 350b - 3‘3 ,4/ ,4.“ a...» 1: g ._ 4ass45 (Forest Service photo) Figure 27.——Aerial view of Glacier Peak from the east. 1...,- . 350C (Forest Service photo) Figure 28.-~Upper Agnes Creek drainage, Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. 350d Figure 29.—-Lone trail rider looking across fog bank toward Glacier Peak, Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. 351 due to road intrusions, existence of presumably commercial mineral values and the already classified North Cascades Primitive Area just north of the proposed area. During the period 1937-40, the subject of a potential National Park in this area was often mentioned, and the area was studied by a joint Interior-Agriculture Department-sponsored committee of.local citizens, the Washington State Planning Council and restudied by the Forest Service. In all cases, although scenic values were considered superb, National Park dedication was rejected. The Forest Service proposal in 1957 for a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area prompted the subsequent formation of a citizens group known as the North Cascades Conservation Council, which in turn submitted a new proposal in 1958 for a study of National Park establishment in this Glacier Peak area. This advocacy by local and national outdoor groups persisted through the Glacier Peak classification and was reemphasized in 1963 by another proposal for a North Cascades National Park (McCloskey, 1963). The early history of the attempt to establish a Glacier IPeak Wilderness Area is documented in Region 6 files and pro- vides a fascinating record. The 1936 report by CleatorlllJ proposed an area of 794,440 acres which, with the 801,000-acre Area, Washington State. Unpublished report, Region 6 files, Portland. June 14, 1936. 111/ Ibid. 352 North Cascade Primitive Area, would have made up a gigantic contiguous block of classified wild country. This report illustrated the continuing attempt to define the purpose of such classified areas and the appropriate form of management. Known mineral values were noted, but the more than 3 billion board feet of timber estimated to be within the proposed boundaries were considered of little or no value because, principally, of high logging and transportation costs. The plan of management proposed was quite permissive, by today's standards, in terms of resource use, occupancy, and potential road development. .A Suiattle River road was particularly stressed for the access it would provide for recreation, timber development, and mineral transportation. Other roads, such as the Hart's Pass road, were mentioned because of county and state highway construction proposals through the area, includ- ing and north of Cascade Pass. The Forest Service Washington Office's reaction to the proposal was cool, however, because of the liberal develop— mental plans proposed.llg/ Finally, on December 11, 1936, the proposal for a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area was dropped indefinitely.ll§/ However, it was suggested that the matter might be reopened later. 112! See letters of July 15, 1936, and September 9, 1936, from L. F. Kneipp, Assistant Chief in charge of Recreation and Lands in the Forest Service washington Office, to Regional Forester, Region 6. Gilligan, 0p. cit., 1953, has chronicled Kneipp's almost singlehanded campaign to obtain more restrictive regulations for Primitive Areas. llé/ Memorandum of December 11, 1936, from C. M. Granger, 353 In 1937 some local pressure in the vicinity of Cashmere, Washington, had developed in support of a recreation road into the Buck Creek Pass area of the one-time proposed Wilderness Area.llfl/ However, a major controversy over road construction was to occur a year later, revolving around the so-called "Hart's Pass double cross." This was perhaps one of the most dramatic instances underscoring the need for maintaining adequate communications between the Forest Service and all likely participants in the matter of wilderness classification. In July of 1938 the Wilderness Society petitioned the Forest Service for a southern addition to the North Cascades Primitive Area.ll§/ A reply from the Chiefllé/promised that this request would be given careful consideration. Some months later, however, Mr. Yard of the Wilderness Society was informed by his associates of plans to construct a road to the Granite Creek mining district in the old proposed Wilderness Area. He subsequently queried the Forest Service Assistant Chief, Forest Service, to the files. This memorandum related a discussion of Granger's with C. J. Buck, Northwest Regional Forester. Buck had persuaded Granger that there seemed to be strong reasons for not classifying the area at that time. llfl/ Article, Cashmere Washington Valley Record, March 18, 1937. The article noted that the road proposal was not favored by the Forest Service. llé/ Letter from Robert Sterling Yard to Chief of the Forest Service, July 22, 1938, Region 6 files, Portland. fig! Letter from Chief, Forest Service, to Robert Sterling Yard, July 26, 1938, Region 6 files, Portland. 354 about this breach of the implied promise contained in previous correspondence to give everyone a chance to be heard before the area was opened to development.lll/ This action was apparently unknown to the Chief, and he requested a full report from the Regional Forester, officially reopened the question of a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area, and imposed a moratorium on road construction in the area proposed in Cleator's 1936 report (excluding the Hart's Pass road which was conceded to have gone so far that stopping it was not feasible).ll§/ In his letter to the Regional Forester, Chief Silcox stated that Mr. Yard had implied the Forest Service had "double-crossed” the Wilderness Society in this matter. The Regional Forester's quick replyllgf setting forth the facts in the case stated that the proposed road would not connect with Hart's Pass or the Granite Creek mining district except by trail and tractor roads. Furthermore, all roads planned for construc- tion were due to be flooded by the new Ruby Lake, and they were not open for public use. A year later, the Mount Baker National Forest notified the Regional Forester that plans were under way to resume con- struction of the Ruby Creek road in the Skagit Ranger ill! Letter from Robert Sterling Yard to Chief, Forest Service, February 23, 1939, Region 6 files, Portland. ll§f Letter from Chief, Forest Service, to Regional Forester, Region 6, March 22, 1939, Region 6 files, Portland. llgj Letter from Region 6 Regional Forester to Chief, Forest Service, March 29, 1939, Region 6 files, Portland. 355 District.l£9/ However, these plans of the Whatcom County commissioners (and concurred in by cooperative agreement with the Mount Baker Forest) required starting from the Hart's Pass end of the road, since there had been changes in the availability of lift facilities over the newly constructed Ross Dam at the west end. This news was received with more than a little concern by the Regional Office and the forest was advised in no uncertain terms to build no more roads in this area.lgl/ It was not long until mining interests were apprised of this new moratorium on road construction.133/ Now the shoe was on the other foot (or perhaps both feet). One critic, a Mr. John Pierce, chairman of the Bellingham Chamber of Commerce Mining Committee, stated1123/ They [the Forest Servicé] have doublecrossed every min- ing man in the state and every man who might have been able to find work by the opening up of this section.... The Portland office has always been antagonistic towards us up here. They have spent all kinds of money at Timberline Lodge in Oregon and have failed to build even rest rooms for the thousands who annually visit Mt. Baker. This was even alluded to as another "park threat." Another interesting comment was,l§é/ 139] Memorandum from Charles Flory, Forest Supervisor, Mount Baker National Forest, to Region 6 Regional Forester, April 12, 1940. Region 6 files, Portland. l2}! Memorandum from Regional Forester by Horton to Mount Baker National Forest, April 25, 1940. Region 6 files, Portland. $22! Article, Bellingham Herald, May 7, 1940, "Ruby Creek Road Plans Hit Snag." 132! Ibid. 135! Editorial, Bellingham Herald, May 8, 1940, "Keep Faith." 1 .wuur‘fi" ‘_ ‘ 356 It will be extremely unfortunate for the National Forestry Service if, through failure to keep its word, it gains in the Northwest a reputation as low as that held by the National Park Service under the guidance of Harold Ickes. During this entire period, letters and telegrams filled with misinformed protests were flowing fast and furiously to Washington State Congressmen and Forest Service officials. I | l I Throughout, it was apparent that mining interests were convinced that a Wilderness Area, if not a park, was virtually an accom- plished fact. Stopping of road construction was called a "terrible blow" based on a "promise secretly made" with wilder- g ness enthusiasts. In view of the mounting attack by the mining industry and other facts of the case, Regional Forester Watts assented to the requests of proponents of road construction, since it was felt that known mineral deposits would be developed anyway and result in nonwilderness conditions. This plan was subsequently approved by the Chieflgéf and also resulted in some added interpretation of policy. In a reply to an inquiry from Congressman Wallgren of Washington State, Acting Chief Granger stated that, "It is not the policy to include areas of high economic value in wilderness areas." Apologies and notice of this action were then sent to Mr. Yard of the Wilderness Society by the Chief, and the Region 6 125/ See letter from Regional Forester to Chief, May 11, 1940, and telegram from Sieker, Washington Office, to Regional Forester, May 14, 1940. 357 Regional Forester was reprimanded for letting the situation get out of hand and not keeping the public better informed. The rationale for the resolution of this particular problem was neatly summed up, however, by a letter dated May 17, 1940, from John Sieker, Acting Chief of the Washington Office Division of Recreation and Lands, to Mr. Irving Clark of Belleview, Washington. Mr. Clark was a persistent inquirer and supporter of the proposed Glacier Peak area from the days of the Cleator report until his death in the 1950's. In this letter Mr. Sieker stated, Bob Yard and I had a conference about the road from Ruby Reservoir to Hart's Pass and came to the conclusion that it would be detrimental to our whole wilderness program to object to it. I came to the same conclusion from a Forest Service standpoint, and in conference with Mr. Granger, agreed that there was no choice but _ to approve the road, which was done. It was our belief that it would have been unwise as well as futile to ignore the well—established mineral values in this area. It is not the policy of the Forest Service to include in the wilderness areas of high economic value; and even if it did so, the mining interests could force the issue under the laws which guarantee ingress and egress to miners, prospectors, and other people owning land or claims in the National Forests. Furthermore, in view of the local public sentiment in the West, particularly in the Cascade region, it would not further the interests of the wilderness to propose an area which included appreciable and "ready to be operated" mineral resources. Although the major furor had quieted, Forest Service personnel actively sought out additional public opinion, es- pecially from outdoor groups, and proceeded to restudy and reshape plans for the disputed territory. Soon, the 17- to ZO-mile-wide "corridor" from Cascade Pass north to the North 358 Cascade Primitive Area reverted to "ordinary National Forest status"; whereas the area south of Cascade Pass was shaded in on maps in blue color and reserved for further study. A tight moratorium on road construction in the "blue area" was thence- forth imposed. The exclusion of the 300,000-acre Cascade Pass- Ruby Creek Corridor of course called for some justification to the outdoor group.lZ§/ The last word on this particular matter was had by Acting Chief Granger in a letter to Yard, and it summarizes the experience and resulting policy interpretation which is quoted at length below:l§l/ The Forest Service has long recognized the impor- tance of wilderness and wild areas as a part of the Forest recreation program and that interest is evidenced by the fact that there are at present 74 areas, totaling over 14 million acres, which have been designated as primitive, wilderness, or wild areas. Naturally, the first areas to be established were the ones which were considered most valuable and suitable for wilderness type of recreation. Additional areas in some cases are going to be harder to justify because they will include other values to a larger degree than were found in the areas first established. In coming to a decision on an area proposed for wilderness classification, Forest officers endeavor to put into practice sound principles of land—use planning. They attempt to determine whether the net public benefit will be greater by dedicating the area to wilderness use or by managing it as ordinary National Forest lands. This process of determining net public benefit naturally includes the views of the 126/ as are replies from the Regional Forester and the Chief. 421/ Letter from C. M. Granger, Acting Chief, Forest Service, to Robert Sterling Yard, November 12, 1930. Region 6 files, Portland. Several letters from Irving Clark and Robert Yard are on file in the Region 6 Portland office relating to this matter, 359 general public and of special interest groups, of which you recognize, of course, the Wilderness Society is one. It is further complicated by the United States' mining laws and the Act of Congress authorizing the creation of National Forests. The Congress has expressly provided that mineral lands within the National Forests shall be subject to entry under the existing mining laws and nowhere restrict this right because minerals may be available in other places. Citizens have the right to file on National Forest lands if they contain minerals in such quantities as to justify a prudent man to further exploring and developing the property. The Act of Congress providing for the administra— tion of the National Forests guarantees ingress and egress to prospectors and miners through National Forest lands. We could not evade this law if we were inclined to, nor can the designation of a Wilderness Area by the Secretary of Agriculture prevent the claimant of a valid mining claim from building a road to that claim. Whether or not, there- fore, our land-use plans determine that a wilderness was the highest use for a certain area, the owner of a valid mining claim could, subject to Departmental regulations, put a road in to it and to that extent destroy its wilder- ness character. It is in recognition of these facts that our policy contemplates leaving out of wilderness areas substantially mineralized zones in which development is probable. It is my belief that our wilderness program would lose more in the long run by having frequent eliminations made from established areas than by excluding in advance mineralized zones from such areas. The last sentence in the last paragraph quoted above is par- ticularly worthy of note. The advent of World War II brought with it inevitable pressures to penetrate the "blue area" in order to tap the known mineral deposits. Principal concern centered on the Suiattle drainage and the Glacier Peak mine.128/ The Forest Service eVentually granted permission for necessary road construction in the face of the national emergency, but not without request- ing assurances that the subject minerals were indeed required ——.__________.__ 128/ Letter from U.S. Bureau of Mines to Region 6 Regional Forester, September 16, 1942. Region 6 files, Portland. 360 for the war effort.l§2/ Fortunately, the proposed Glacier Peak mining development was ultimately not required for the war effort, and the area escaped with only minor improvements to the Suiattle access road. The postwar period brought new inquiries about the status of Wilderness Areas in the Northwest Region, and by 1948 attention of outdoor groups had shifted heavily in the direction of the "new" Limited Area concept. It was even suggested that an article on Northwest Limited Areas should appear in Living Wilderness.l§9/ This was finally accomplished exactly 10 years later (Onthank, 1958). During the 1950's, the question of a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area was actively reopened by the Forest Service. By 1956 a plan of study had been devisedlél/ and by 1958 much of the land use analysis had been completed so that definite boundaries were identifiable.l§g/ The study itself was partly a matter of a detailed ex— clusion of existing roads and likely locations for high priority cross-state highways. This procedure, coupled with the already $22! Letter from Chief, Forest Service, to Director, Bureau of Mines, September 23, 1942. Region 6 files, Portland. 130/ Letter from Irving Clark to Howard Zahniser of the Wilderness Society, October 22, 1948. Region 6 files, Portland. $21] See "Outline for Land Management Plan," April 24, 1956, prepared by Melvin H. Burke, Region 6 Division of Recrea- tion and Lands. Region 6 files, Portland. lggj See the mimeographed report ”Glacier Peak Land Management Study," March 1958. Region 6 files, Portland. 361 identified "blue area," roughly defined the major portions of the boundaries. Superimposed on this analysis was a set of overlay maps showing commercial and operable timber zones; unstable or critical soil zones which would presumably not permit timber harvest without severe erosion problems; transportation routes including trails; present and potential recreation zones of various kinds; other vegetative cover types; mineralized and water areas; and such things as powerline rights-of-way. These overlays reflected the serious consideration given to the existing and estimated potential use of the area as well as some tentative management decisions based on available facts. Knowledge of anticipated public reaction to alternative pro- posals was also considered. The analysis was heavily influenced by concern for timber production and recreation development in some of the major stream drainages leading away from the area, such as those of the Agnes, Suiattle, and Whitechuck Rivers. The original proposal contained several deep intrusions, or "corridors," along these streams as a result of the attempt to exclude those drainages which would lend themselves to both timber and recreation development. The overall effect was a "spidery" shape to the proposed classified wilderness. This led to the major issue in the Glacier Peak case which may be called the "corridor problem." Of some interest is the fact that during the early stages of the Glacier Peak land management study, there was some pressure for an interagency study of the entire North Cascade ‘_F,,_. .. . 362 area in Washington State.l§§/ The Forest Service reaction to this pressure was to declare that management of the land within the National Forests was entirely the responsibility of the Forest Service; and, hence, an interagency study by others who did not have this responsibility was not advisable.l§é/ On February 16, 1959, public notice was given that a Glacier Peak Wilderness Area of some 422,000 acres was being proposed by the Forest Service.l§§/ Public interest in the matter was high, of course, and public advisory hearings were consequently scheduled at Bellingham, Washington, on October 13, 1959, and Wenatchee, Washington, on October 16, 1959. These hearings were well attended. A total of 112 statements was taken during the hearings and 858 additional telegrams and letters were made a part of the record before it closed on October 30, 1959. An analysis of the record of statements, similar to the analysis made in the Three Sisters case, was subsequently made by the Regional Forester and his staff.l§§/ The statements were remarkably evenly divided into "friendly" and "critical" l2§f Letter from David Simons to Washington State Senator Kuchel, November 13, 1956. Region 6 files, Portland. 134/ Letter to Senator Kuchel from Chief, Forest Service, December 12, 1956. Region 6 files, Portland. léé/ See "Public Notice, Proposed Establishment of Glacier Peak Wilderness Area," J. Herbert Stone, Regional Forester. February 16, 1959. 136/ Memorandum from J. Herbert Stone, Regional Forester, to Chief, Forest Service, February 10, 1960. Region 6 files, Portland. 363 categories with respect to the original Forest Service proposal. However, only 13 percent of these statements were in complete agreement with the specific proposal. About an equal proportion wanted the original Cleator proposal area classified. A very small number of statements favored no classification at all, while the largest single number of advocates supported adding the Agnes, Whitechuck, and Suiattle River corridors to the proposed area, and most others were related somewhat to this position. Some (57) still favored National Park status. As a result of this analysis, the Regional Forester rec- ommended some modification of the corridors with Regulation U-3a Scenic Area classification. It was felt that this decision would draw maximum support, although it would obviously not satisfy any extreme View. Five months later, the Chief's Office replied to the Regional Forester with the following recommendationszlél/ 1. All of the Suiattle corridor was placed in U-l class, since it was felt "that a U—3a Scenic Area would not yield any appreciable resource value" in this case. Four reasons were given for this decision:' a. Timber outweighed by wilderness values. b. Poor fishing in this glacial stream because the stream was milky in color which is characteristic of glacial streams. lél/ Memorandum from Chief, Forest Service, to Regional Forester, Region 6, July 29, 1960. Region 6 files, Portland. 364 c. No real need for motor access for general public. d. Forest Service should not refuse to dedicate areas because of the potential acts of people (in this case mining interests) outside the control of the Forest Service. 2. All of the Agnes corridor was included in wilderness. The four reasons given were: a. Negligible timber volumes. b. Great distance from existing plant location. c. Good places for starting trips into the wilderness exist near the outside edge. d. The limited roadside recreation opportunities of the Agnes outweighed by the advantage of having one or two low valley floors on the east side of the area within the boundaries. The final decisionl§§j of September 6, 1960, contained these changes. The Bellingham hearingslégj give a fair sample of the kinds of ideas which were presented in this case. Some of these are summarized below: l§§j See ”Decision of the Secretary of Agriculture Establishing the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area, Mt. Baker and Wenatchee National Forests, Washington," September 6, 1960, by E. L. Peterson, Assistant Secretary of Agriculture. 422! See "Hearings, in the Matter of: The Proposed Establishment of Glacier Peak Wilderness Area," October 13, 1959. Region 6 files, Portland. 365 An area like a river valley is wilderness when the alpine region alone can't benefit those who want wilderness but can't make it physically to the alpine. Therefore, include easier terrain in flatter country for those people. Statement by John Osseward, President, Olympic Park Associates, Inc. Wilderness quality is a product of complimentary relationships between lowland forests and highland alpine areas. A hypothesis when planning for land use in the case of wilderness suggested by the testimony: It makes a difference in boundary determination if the planner is thinking mainly in terms of timber values foregone (this is a negative sort of objective) or wilderness values produced. (This, on the other hand, is a positive sort of objective.) Local economy impacts noted were: a. The payroll produced by the allowable cut both direct and indirect. b. The in-lieu-of-taxes payment of 25 percent for schools and roads. Statement of Richard K. Fox, Washington State Department of Commerce and Economic Development. Fox provided some estimates of employment, payroll, etc. based on timber production and used these in an 366 opportunity—cost argument supporting the "locked up" argument of the antiwilderness proponents. The factors he developed are listed below. For each 1 I million board feet of timber "locked up" there results: a. Loss of direct employment, 13.3 persons. b. Loss of payroll, $58,750. c. Loss of direct support employment, 45 persons. d. Loss of forest products values, $180,000. e. Loss of stumpage, $20,000. f. Loss to county of in-lieu payments, $5,000. g. Loss of roads and trails funds, $2,000. h. Loss to U.S. Treasury, $13,000. One of the arguments was reflected also in the Three Sisters testimony: that there were many more sawmills and much more sawmill capacity than could use the full allowable cut anyway; therefore, holding some timber in a wilderness would hardly make what will happen anyway happen faster or more seriously. Statement by L. A. Nelson, Portland. The virgin forest itself is unique. It is irreplaceable. "The forest is God's Gothic cathedral, and France would not tear down her Gothic cathedrals for any of her office buildings." Nelson's theme was: Prevent the destruction of the economy but pre- serve the cultural resources like wilderness. Some of his statement is quoted below: 10. ll. 12. 367 Natural resources are of two distinct types which may be classified as commodity resources and cultural resources. Cultural resources are measured in the scale of production of knowledge, health, happiness and physical well-being derived from their use. Cultural resources must also be conserved by wise use--treated as economic problems also—- but this becomes more of a preservation problem. A criterion for National Park status was that an area should be "superlatively beautiful." Timbered access valleys were considered the "cream" of the areas with the remainder cast as the "skim milk." The protection angle was a prominent aspect of the testimony as well. Commercial-sized timber was considered the key to the protection problem. Sanitation cutting would not be able to reduce losses anticipated from insect, disease, and fire attack. Statement of Gerry Worthen. Wilderness "is like a woman; once she loses her virginity she is never quite the same." The analogy is also drawn with "church going." Churches "are open to everyone, but more people stay away than attend. In spite of that, churches have a pretty good attendance." Statement of Henry Kral: "Can you have a wilderness in the forest without including the forest?" 13. 14. 15. 368 A strong point made was that wilderness is a national resource and should be evaluated as such. Olaus Murie suggested "there 'should be a minister at this hearing' to plead for those values which we are reaching for." (He was quoting from a statement at the Three Sisters hearing.) ”I look upon this desire for wilderness as a most promising sign of progress, comparable to our reaching for higher levels in religion, in art, literature, music." Statement of Patrick J. Goldsworthy, president of the North Cascade Conservation Council. Goldsworthy made a bitter attack on the Forest Service: The characteristic blindness with which the Forest Service has administered the unique Glacier Peak Region has not changed. a a o v o O o The untimely death of Silcox and Marshall in 1940 marked the start of an accelerated progress backward in wilderness preservation. a 0 o c v a 0 We have watched the drama of the wilderness bill with a clear eye and have seen the Forest Service denounce, hedge, and build little backfires here and there. We consequently can have little faith in added wilderness protection from this source. The use by Region 6 of the Forest Service of overlay land management for evaluating the area under consideration has one serious defect. ~_.. l6. 17. 18. 369 This technical overlay procedure does not portray either qualitatively or quantitatively all the cogent features that should be con- sidered. It is inadequate in its portrayal of the scenic features of recreation. Goldsworthy questions the competence of forestry college graduates to make such studies in the first place, but mainly because the colleges don't offer the necessary training for these kinds of studies. Statement of David Brower, executive director of the Sierra Club: "we are attempting to compare Beethoven with Elvis Presley and prove with last year's record sales which is better." Statement of George Marshall, editor of Living Wilderness. Marshall cynically interpreted Forest Service classification criteria as follows: a. Wilderness should be the area above timberline, because the Forest Service believes that trees should be converted to dollars. b. Wilderness should have as few trees as possible, and it should be the area left over after the Forest Service has classified it for material purposes. Statement of Virlis Fischer. He cites "acre—by-acre" study by the Forest Service of the Glacier Peak area. He refers to it as 370 "complete"; "durable"; "weight all the values"; "professional study"; "not the whim of one man, but the composite judgment of many minds"; ”an honest study." Letters, telegrams, newspaper and magazine articles cir- culated nationwide following the hearings. A somewhat typical letter regarding the corridors was written to Assistant Chief Cliff of the Forest Service and is quoted in part belowzlflg/ Nevertheless to attempt timber production on such relatively narrow valleys of limited area, particularly some as remote as Agnes Creek at the head of Lake Chelan, is like attempting to intrude long fingers of industrial zoning up the streams of the residential areas of Chevy Chase on the theory that such relatively flat areas are of higher dollar value as factory sites. Forest Service was the leader, Ed, in early recog- nition and adequate provision for protection of the wilderness values of the forests. Aldo Leopold, Bob Marshall, and Chief Silcox never considered wilderness areas were to be only the left—overs after other uses had been satisfied. If you will review in your own mind the early primitive areas as established by those men, each of the areas constituted a significant whole. An article in Frontier magazine by Samuel Markham (1960) supported George Marshall's interpretation of Forest Service classification criteria: The Service has merely selected the mountaintops, most inaccessible and rugged country and omitted gorges, timber—rich valleys, with their cascading streams and boulder—strewn rivers, the lower elevations that com- prise an integral part of the scenic whole. 1&9/ Letter from Richard M. Leonard to Edward P. Cliff, November 16, 1959. Region 6 files, Portland. 371 When the classification was finally made including the substantial Suiattle and Whitechuck corridors timber interests were particularly incensed. An illustrative telegram from industry was that from C. W. Richen, president of the Industrial Forestry Association, Portland, dated September 23, 1960. This telegram began: "Our membership shocked." Bronson, of the Western Pine Association, sent a telegram very similar to that sent by Richen. It was dated September 16, 1960, and began: ”Our people are dismayed." Garrett Eddy, president of the Washington Forestry Protection Association, sent a bitter letter on October 24, 1960, to Secretary of Agriculture Benson. This accused the Forest Service of compromising its technical competency. This technical competency was reflected in the land use study which was used as a base for the original boundary proposal. By giving in to "emotional attacks” on the deep Suiattle and Agnes corridors the Forest Service capitulated. Eddy said that his organization believed land use decisions should be based on "technical" considerations onlyl However, some praise was also forthcoming. A statement in at least two widely separated letters signified the popularity of the idea that "we are not so poor in timber and pulp that w need to log such places, nor so rich in natural beauty that (D we can afford to." 372 Mount Hood: AAppeal to Esthetics The Mount Hood Wild Area is the smallest Wild Area (14,106 acres) in the Northwest. It was first established as the Mount Hood Primitive Area on January 13, 1931, and was one of the first three Primitive Areas to be reclassified as Wild Areas under Regulations U-l and U—2, in 1940. This Wild Area is only one class of recreation area included within the several kinds of recreational areas found in the well known Mount Hood recrea- tion area. It occupies the high elevation area to the north and west of, but not touching, the summit of Mount Hood (fig. 30). The Primitive Area establishment reportlél/ points out that on April 28, 1926, the Secretary of Agriculture formally dedicated Mount Hood and its environs, amounting to 83,731 acres, to recreation usage. The proposed Primitive Area was within this dedicated area. Various items of scenic beauty within the area were pointed out, such as flower-carpeted alpine meadows, intervening edges of timberline types of timber, cascading streams of pure water, many unnamed leaping waterfalls, and the view of various snowpeaks to the north, such as Mount Adams, Mount Rainier, and Mount St. Helens. léi/ Cleator, F. W. Report on Mt. Hood Primitive Area. Region 6 files, Portland. January 10, 1931. 373 MT. HOOD WILD AREA m. Mud Mellon-I For"! Melon 6 U.S. For." unle- IMICIW. * LEGEND — HIM Ann um." In“: l'- 5% lull" Figure 30.--Map of Mt. Hood Wild Area. ll! IIIUOO 374 Impending commercialization of the Mount Hood area is pointed out as one of the reasons for designating this as a Primitive Area inasmuch as a private party had proposed build- ing a tramway from the Columbia River Gorge up the slopes of Mount Hood in this general vicinity. This designation was thus considered the "safest and most forward step while there is still an opportunity to set aside a considerable area of that which still remains in a natural condition as a primitive area." The report goes further and states ”this will preserve the desirable recreation balance." The report mentions also that this area had the official sanction of the "Mt. Hood Committee," a committee which was appointed February 2, 1929, by the Secretary of Agriculture. This committee recommended that the area be examined in detail and "definitely bounded by local Forest officers" (U.S. Congress, 1930). The Mount Hood Committee was a unique effort to study a particular area with the purpose of recommending on the form of recreation development. It was made up of three experts (Frederick L. Olmstead, John C. Merriam, and Frank A. Waugh) in the field of landscape architecture and outdoor recreation whose lofty eminence was exceeded only by the magnificence of Oregon's most famous peak itself. The objective of this study was, ...to identify and interpret the features or qualities of major public importance, to develop the fundamental principles which should govern this department in their management, and to determine whether certain pending or proposed projects, as for example, the a 1 a A 1 375 cableway to the summit of Mt. Hood, the use of lakes for water storage, the proposed trail system, etc., are compatible or incompatible with the highest and best permanent realization of the potential public values of the areas. The report of the Mount Hood Committee exposed some important ideas for discussion. In this respect, it was a pioneering effort. Considerable space was devoted to the ideas of estimating and comparing values attributable to such diverse activities as timber harvest and recreation. The committee expressed the notion that even though much of the value attributable to recreation escaped expression in the marketplace, the economic consequences and values nevertheless did exist. They distinguished between "social" economics and ”commercial" economics. In the first sense they referred to valuing a resource and its use at the level which users would pay if confronted with the opportunity in excess of its value in alternative uses. In the ”commercial” sense it was suggested that value should be set equal to at least the "full economic cost" of what the beneficiaries receive to the extent that these beneficiaries can be practically confronted with the option of paying. They did not implement these ideas with data, however. The committee also made a distinction between "primary” and "service” uses. It was implied that primary uses were those direct participation activities, such as hiking or driving through the particular scenic area. Service ”uses" were illus- trated as those activities which enhanced or made the primary use possible, such as the supplying of gasoline, food, and a..- eA-‘fl‘flwr‘u 376 lodging to the primary users. The committee was also aware of the problem of attributing costs incurred for recreation pur- poses to particular places, when such purposes might be only part of the reasons for particular expenditures. The committee offered its wholehearted support of the proposed Primitive Area on the northwest slopes of Mount Hood, recommending for inclusion those major parts on both sides of Cathedral Ridge which are now within the boundaries of the Wild Area. As far as the proposed cableway was concerned-~and perhaps the major purpose for which the committee was convened-- the committee split. While all agreed that there was need for development of public recreation facilities around the mountain, and that the possible means of development included the tramway, it was not agreed as to the seriousness of the certain detrac- tion of the tramway from the view of Mount Hood. The committee pointed out that there was a strong public expression in support of the tramway, based on several reasons, and that refusal to permit the tramway could lead to a general reaction against the Forest Service that would seriously hamper any development of plans for recreation in the Mount Hood area. Overall, however, the chief orientation of this study and an important ingredient of succeeding ones was toward the esthetic attributes of Mount Hood itself and its ecological associations. The proposed Primitive Area was generally de- signed to cut across the entire spectrum of ecological associa- tion and the most appealing view of the summit itself. Of some 377 interest is that one of the best known views of Mount Hood is that from the northwest shore of Lost Lake, some 5 miles northwest of and directly into the Wild Area. In the Senate document (U.S. Congress, 1930), which con— tained the Mount Hood Committee report, is also a report on a public meeting of April 15, 1927, called by the Portland Chamber of Commerce and the Chief of the Forest Service, Colonel W. B. Greeley, to obtain the views of the public on the proposed tramway to the top of Mount Hood. Some interesting phraseology was used by Greeley in relating the discussion to the then- current movement for Wilderness Areas on the National Forests and his reluctance to favor the proposed development of a tramway on Mount Hood. He stated, "It seems to me there is an element there that will make us stop, look, and listen, and be cautious." By this he implied what was later implied in the ”Stop, Look and Listen" designation given to certain unclassified roadless areas in the Northwest Region: Stop, and carefully consider alternative values and especially public reaction to proposals to develop such areas with roads and commercial use of resources. In spite of the apparent preponderance of local support for the tramway (opposed principally by the Mazamas), Greeley denied the petition for the project and, hence, succeeding studies by a group of local businessmen in 1928 (at the request of the Secretary of Agriculture) and the Mount Hood Committee resulted. Of more than incidental interest, then, is the appointment in April 378 of 1964 of a new citizens advisory committee by Region 6 Regional Forester Stone to consider the matter of a 1963 pro- posal to construct a tramway along the scenic Columbia Gorge on the Mount Hood National Forest. At any rate, at the time of the Primitive Area classifi- cation in 1931, the 30 million board feet of otherwise merchant- able timber in the area was not considered to have any "present market value." Other values were also considered of lesser value than the value of the area for wilderness-type classifica— tion, although exact rationales were not given in the establish- ment report. "5 04ka... On June 21, 1940, the Mount Hood Primitive Area was reclassified under Regulation U-2 as a Wild Area. Even though one full section of subalpine timber type was eliminated, thus reducing the area 640 acres, the reclassification caused no stir and necessitated no hearings. One small notice did appear in the Sunday Oregonian on April 7, 1940, however. This was a classified ad that read: Mt. Hood tavern for sale or lease. In new proposed wild area at the junction of Mt. Hood Loop and Cooper Spur Roads. Winter and summer business. Adjoins ski area. Cottages, spring water. Address 808 Cascade Avenue, Hood River, Oregon. Some concern was also expressed by the group which had attempted over several years to promote a cableway to the top of Mount Hood from the north side. Subsequent issues have most recently revolved around con- cern for obtaining formal classification for the old Eagle Creek Limited Area which is adjacent to and northwest of the 379 Wild Area. A letter by Mr. G. Edward Graves illustrates this concernzlég/ I have just spent a week in the Eden Park section of Mt. Hood, which I was responsible for first exploring and naming in 1922. I was shocked at the extent to which clear-cutting has been proceeding in the forests to the west and north. I suppose that the Mt. Hood Wild Area is safe, but what about the Eagle Creek Limited Area? This, I understand, was set aside as a study area, part of which, at least, was eventually to become a wild or wilderness area. Can you send me maps and information that will clear up this question for me? The Regional Forester's replylflé/ to Mr. Graves indicated that the Eagle Creek area was to be retained in its primitive state until further studies of its best use were concluded. By the forepart of 1964, Region 6 was in the process of pre- paring a proposal for Wild Area status of a portion of the old Eagle Creek Limited Area. Goat Rocks: To Ski or Not To Ski This 82,680-acre Wild Area (figs. 31, 32, and 33) is the largest Wild Area in Region 6. It was first established as a 50,100—acre Primitive Area on February 13, 1931. It is characterized by the typically precipitous Cascade crest peaks, glaciers, large lakes, and mountain flora. It was twice enlarged from its original 50,100 acres to its present 432/ Letter from C. Edward Graves to Region 6 Regional Forester, September 5, 1960. Region 6 files, Portland. léé/ Letter, Region 6 Regional Forester to C. Edward Graves, September 12, 1960. Region 6 files, Portland. con ROCKS WILD . . "L ' AREA 6mm Hanna: 3 Smuolmlo National Fore"; 1 - Melon 6 U.S. For." Suvlco tau-4 v at. w LEGEND . -— Um Alo- land-q Sum l'-a+ In".- t .. .._.. -.l. JILJWM“ Figure 31.--Map of Goat Rocks Wild Area. (Forest Service photo) Figure 32.--The Goat Rocks, Goat Rocks Wild Area. 382 (Forest Service photo) Figure 33.-~Denizens of the Goat Rocks Wild Area. 383 82,680 acres. In fact, proposed additions constituted the major portion of the history of any controversy involving the Goat Rocks. More recently, controversy has centered about the entry of a portion of a proposed White Pass ski develop- ment into part of the area. Of somewhat minor importance has been the use of helicopters by U.S. Geological Survey teams for survey triangulation within the Goat Rocks Area. Actually, no substantial reasons were given for the proposed designation.l££/ The only justification statement is the following: "It is believed that the Goat Rocks should remain a wild spot in the Cascades between Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams." It was pointed out that Mount Rainier National Park, which is only a few miles to the northwest, overshadows all other recreation assets in the vicinity of this (then, Rainier) National Forest. It was estimated at the time that the proposed 50,100-acre area contained about 225 million board feet of timber. It was stated that the volume of merchantable timber within the area was negligible, however, and that it was so remote frOm transportation and in such a scattered condition as to make it unprofitable for logging. Grazing was the only other value that was given any con— sideration in the proposal of establishment. It was noted that 3,600 head of sheep were then grazed under permit and lflfl/ See the "Establishment Report, Goat Rocks Primitive Area," February 13, 1931. Region 6 files, Portland. I I I I 384 that the season was quite satisfactory from July 1 to September 30, and that although the range was fully stocked it was not overgrazed. It was noted also that although tree growth would likely curtail the carrying capacity of the ranges in the future, grazing use would be continued as it was when the area was proposed for classification. A most interesting observation in the "Establishment Report" is the following: There has been no particular public sentiment to set this area aside, but the Forest Service will have partially satisfied a very definite urge on the part of the general public for adequate primitive area reservation; and if approved, will have added one more desirable unit to that class of recreation asset. One may speculate about the relationship of this classification to persistent demands for more National Parks in the Cascade Mountains and especially to additions to Mount Rainier National Park. As in the case of the other Primitive Area proposals, timber cutting was not to be withheld indefinitely. It was noted that fringes of timber on the outskirts of the area might in the future be found feasible for commercial use with adjoining timber outside the area. However, it was not to be utilized in such a way that the primitive effect would be appreciably disturbed. It was suggested that the timber in the area would be chiefly valuable for watershed protection, not only at that time but also in the future. On September 10, 1934, four members of the Regional 385 Office staff in Portland, including the Regional Forester and the president of the Mazamas, as well as one other member of that organization, met together and agreed to a recommendation of an addition of about 26 sections of area to the west side of the Goat Rocks Primitive Area.l£§/ Subsequently, the Mazamas prepared a descriptive report of this area which was proposed for addition, and the Forest Service made new resource studies of the area. On March 22, 1935, Cleator of the Forest Service sub- mitted the revised report to the Regional Forester. The revised report was finally approved by the Regional Forester on October 14, 1935, and subsequently approved by the Chief of the Forest Service, Silcox, on October 19, 1935. It seems clear the principal decision rule was that timber was the most significant resource to be considered, and if timber values were low or harvest seemed infeasible the area could be considered suitable for Wild Area classification. One interesting statement is provided by F. H. Brundage, Assistant Regional Forester, in a memorandum of December 3, 1934zlflé/ £32] Memorandum to Supervisor, Rainier National Forest, (now Snoqualmie and Gifford Pinchot National Forests) from F. V. Horton, Recreation and Lands, Regional Office, Portland, September 11, 1934. Region 6 files, Portland. lflé/ Region 6 files, Portland. 386 It occurs to me that this is an area which is particu- larly adapted to the principle of multiple use and that the commitment which has, apparently, been agreed upon should not have been consummated until opportunity had been given for full consideration of all values concerned. The above statement is interesting since it is an early use of the term "multiple use" applied to forest land manage— ment in the wilderness context. It was also interesting because Mr. Brundage was primarily concerned with the fact that the proposed west-side addition contained a lot of timber and he felt this timber had not been given full consideration in the agreement between the Mazama Club and the Forest Service. After the enlargement of 1935, the Goat Rocks Primitive Area contained 72,440 acres. On October 19, 1937, F. W. Cleator, recreation examiner for Region 6, proposed the addition of 10 sections to the east side and 10 sections to the west side of the Primitive Area. At this time, Cleator had the benefit of new maps which revealed that the area which he proposed for addition was all very high, most of it above the 4,500-foot level. He noted that the forest type maps of these areas showed that the timber values were mediocre or less. In fact, he suggested, a large portion of this area was sub- alpine or bare ground. As a result of further discussion, and in spite of a request from the Wilderness Society to expand the area so that it would be large enough to merit the title Wilderness Area rather than Wild Area, the final determination was made and on July 30, 1940, the area was officially designated as the Goat 387 Rocks Wild Area and contained 82,680 acres. One of the principal reasons for not making the area larger (so that it could qualify as a Wilderness Area) was that about 12,000 acres of the lands proposed for addition by the Wilderness Society were privately owned.l£1/ It was the opinion of the Forest Service that if these lands were included it would result in an impractical and mechanical boundary and add so little of real interest to the Wild Area that an addi- tion was not really recommended. It was suggested that this would be straining too much to add area in order to approach the 100,000—acre requirement for wilderness. It was pointed out further that there was a state highway on the north, private lands on the east, the Yakima Indian Reservation on the south, and Forest Service roads and heavy timber on the west, and these all together effectively blocked consideration of any additions to the area. Subsequently, in October 1957 the North Cascades Conservation Council passed the following resolution:lé§/ "The North Cascade Conservation Council opposes any reduction of the present boundaries of the Goat Rocks Wild Area." It was indicated that this resolution was forthcoming because of efforts to expand the White Pass ski area to the north into lfll/ See memorandum from Regional Forester to Chief, Forest Service, July 7, 1939; and letter from Regional Forester to Robert Sterling Yard, Wilderness Society, July 15, 1939; Region 6 files, Portland. lé§j Letter frmn Philip H. Zalesky to Region 6 Regibn 6 Regional Forester, October 30, 1957. Region 6 files, Portland. 388 portions of the Goat Rocks Wild Area. This organization was, however, opposed to expansion of the White Pass ski area, only if portions of the Goat Rocks Wild Area were involved. Subsequent Forest Service correspondencelflg/ indicated that a meeting had been held at the White Pass ski area on August 28-29, 1957, for the purpose of explaining the ultimate potential for this area for both summer and winter recreation, and with the intent particularly to review the expansion of the ski area in terms of its relationship to the Goat Rocks Wild Area. This meeting was attended by Forest Service personnel from the Gifford Pinchot and Snoqualmie National Forests and members of the White Pass Corporation, The Mountaineers, and the Seattle Chamber of Commerce Ski Committee. There was quite a flurry of correspondence regarding this proposed White Pass ski addition which would slop over into the Goat Rocks Wild Area. It even reached the Washington Office in the form of a request from Associate Justice Douglas to the Forest Service to meet with him and discuss the proposed White Pass ski development and its relationship to the Goat Rocks Wild Area. Up until 1961, the decision of the Forest Service was: (1) no change in the boundary, and (2) study the proposal of the White Pass Ski Company to extend their ski facilities into a portion of the Goat Rocks Wild Area. 132] Memorandum from S. B. Olson to the files, dated July 11, 1957. Region 6 files, Portland. 389 In 1961, the Regional Forester's staff met with members of the staff of the Snoqualmie National Forest following a Forest Advisory Board meeting of the Snoqualmie and agreed that perhaps a modification of the boundary would be appropriate. However, the forest was advised to inform outdoor groups of the nature of the proposal and various aspects bearing on the case. This issue eventually became dormant. A subsequent minor issue was the matter of allowing U.S. Geological Survey survey teams into the area. The request by the U.S. Geological Survey for the use of helicopters in certain spots was eventually permitted on the basis of prece- dents set in other regions. Kalmiopsis: Rare Flowers and Scarce Metals On June 14, 1930, Mr. and Mrs. John R. Leach, of Portland, Oregon, discovered one of the rarest shrubs in North America, kalmiopsis leachiana, on Horse-Sign Butte at an elevation somewhat above 2,000 feet in Curry County, Oregon. Kalmiopsis is a monotypic genus, a relic of the tertiary age and one of the three oldest genera in the heath family. In this same general area, no fewer than 17 species of coniferous trees are found as well as a great variety of hardwood shrubs and other trees which result from the merging of the Oregon coast flora with the northern California flora. The above facts underscore the heavy emphasis on the botanical characteristics of the Kalmiopsis Wild Area. It is presumably because of these botanical characteristics that this Wild Area was originally considered for classification. However, 390 this area of rough, broken topography is also highly mineralized. Some of these deposits contain gold, chrome, and other minerals which have led to mining exploration and development. The principal issues concerning the Kalmiopsis Wild Area in recent years have centered on mining problems within the area. It is also interesting at least to note that the Kalmiopsis Wild Area (figs. 34 and 35) is the only tract of National Forest land near the coast in the Northwest which is set aside as wilderness. This area is only 16 airline miles from the ocean. One other point that sets the Kalmiopsis Wild Area apart from previous Wild Area cases is that this area, like the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area, was never first established as a Primitive Area. It was, however, part of the Siskiyou Mountains Roadless Area proposed by Robert Marshall in 1936. It was first proposed as a Wild Area under Regulation U—2 on November 3, 1941, by the Forest Supervisor of the Siskiyou National Forest, Edward P. Cliff.l§9/ The area was never formally designated as a Wild Area until September 10, 1946, for reasons connected with the advent of World War II. There are 78,850 acres of National Forest land in this Wild Area. At the time the classification was proposed, 320 acres of this area were alienated for private owuership. This lég/ See ”Report on Kalmiopsis Wild Area,” November 3, 1941. Region 6 files, Portland. Figure 391 KALMIOPSIS WILD AREA Slluyou Nnuonol For"! Melon 6 U.S. For"! Suvlu "annual.“ LEGEND _wm Aron m-«u sum l'-I+ nun ll! III W04 34.--Map of Kalmiopsis Wild Area. 392 Figure 35.--Chrome mine and associated road network in Kalmiopsis Wild Area. (Photo by G.W. Williams) 393 parcel of 320 acres was acquired in land exchange in October of 1960. As noted above, the botanical characteristics of this Wild Area are the outstanding characteristics. Also noted above, however, is the fact that its geological charac- teristics, that is, its high mineralization, have provided the basis for most of the controversy in recent years. At the time of the 1941 report, it was noted that about 16 prospectors and miners were residing in the area on a more or less permanent basis. Most of the mining activity was con- centrated on the east side of the area. Most of the mining operations appeared to be the "bare subsistence" variety. Mention was consequently made of mineral deposits which "might" develop into worthwhile commercial operations. It was not anticipated that there would be a demand for the 299 million board feet of timber within the area for at least several generations. It was felt that even if the demand arose, the rough topography would make logging costs high and consequently would result in low economic losses resulting from holding the timber. No grazing values at all were con- sidered. It was then stated in the Establishment Report that with the possible exception of mineral deposits, ...this area has greater value for primitive recrea- tion uses than for commercial exploitation. It lies in the heart of one of the wildest sections of the Coast Range. The flora is of great botanical interest, and should be preserved in order to offer an opportunity for nature lovers and recreationists to see the various cover types and rare species of southwestern Oregon in their natural state. 394 In 1942, F. H. Brundage, Associate Regional Forester, Region 6, referred to the report on the Kalmiopsis Wild Area and had the following observations to makezlél/ I assume that the location of chrome deposits and the possibility in the dim and distant future of construct- ing a road from Pearsoll Peak to the Big Craggies along the divide between the Illinois and Chetco are the reasons for selecting this area instead of the area immediately to the north between the Rogue and the Chetco. This latter area, it seems to me, is much more interesting and if the Big Craggies were included would be desirable from a botanical standpoint. On February 10, 1942, the Regional Forester of Region 6 sent a memorandum to the Chief of the Forest Service accompanied by two copies of the report on the Kalmiopsis Wild Area. In the covering memorandum it was statedzlégl :3 You will remember that a wilderness or wild area for the Siskiyou back country has been under consideration for some years. From a recreation standpoint, the country just north between the Big Craggies and the Rogue River is more attractive, but owing to present uncertainties as to needed road construction for chrome, mineral, or otherwise under war conditions, it does not seem wise at this time to set aside a very large area. John Sieker replied for the Chief of the Forest Service February 26, 1942, and stated the following:l§§/ Your report has been reviewed by the National Forest Administration Division Chiefs and it is the general feeling, that since the area probably includes lél/ Memorandum from Brundage to E. P. Cliff, Supervisor, Siskiyou National Forest, January 23, 1962. Region 6 files, Portland. léfi/ Memorandum from Region 6 Regional Forester to Chief, Forest Service, February 10, 1942. Region 6 files, Portland. Egg! Memorandum, Region 6 files, Portland. 395 important chrome deposits in which O.P.A. has evidenced considerable interest, it would be poor timing to set up a wild area now. Mineral values involved are the only objection which anyone has for setting up this area. Whereas our classification as a wild area would not affect location and entry under the mining laws, yet it might be interpreted by the public as an effort to obstruct mining strategic minerals. On February 28, 1946, the Supervisor of the Siskiyou National Forest reminded the Regional Forester in Portland that the setting up of this Wild Area had been postponed because of war conditions.l§£/ He then called the matter to the Regional Forester's attention with the thought that he might take steps to have this area set aside. This was eventually accomplished. No requests for hearings were forthcoming during the 90-day notification period. On March 22, 1962, Senator Maurine Neuberger from Oregon wrote a letterlééj to J. R. Philbrick, Supervisor of the Siskiyou National Forest, asking for detailed information about the extent of placer operations within the Kalmiopsis Wild Area. Senator Neuberger had been advised of this situation by Mrs. Richard M. Noyes of Eugene. Philbrick replied on March 30, 1962, directly to Senator Neuberger and pointed out the following facts of the case:i§§/ 154/ Memorandum, Region 6 files, Portland. léé/ Letter, Region 6 files, Portland. lééf Letter, Region 6 files, Portland. 396 During the summer and fall of 1960, Mr. Darrell Brown, president of the M & B Logging Company of Canyonville, Oregon, did extensive exploration and prospecting work along the Chetco River within the Wild Area. As the result of this prospecting, Mr. Brown filed 17 claims covering a total of 2,115 acres. These pre- sumably covered the entire gold-bearing portion of the Chetco River. During the winter of 1960 and the spring of 1961, Mr. Brown intensified and enlarged the scale of his prospecting and exploratory work. The results were encouraging to the point of taking heavy equipment into the area and preparing for placer mining. He began full-scale operation for 4 days in early March of 1962. This was by way of a test run. At that time it was reported that Mr. Brown had spent over $120,000 on his development work, and his plans called for setting up a family-owned corporation to conduct operations over a long period of years. The claims were examined by Forest Service mining engineers. Preliminary examinations concluded that sufficient gold values were present to sustain a valid discovery on at least some of the claims. In view of these findings by the Forest Service mining engineers, Mr. Brown's operations were considered to fall well within the intent of the mining laws. 397 On May 2, 1962, Mr. J. Michael McCloskey, Northwest Conservation representative for the Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs, visited the Siskiyou National Forest Supervisor's office inquiring about mining activity in the Kalmiopsis Wild Area (McCloskey, 1962). During the course of his investigation, Mr. McCloskey discovered that the only legal recourse the public seemed to have in this case was to approach the Oregon State Sanitary Engineer and ask for an injunction on the basis of pollution and/or esthetic defilement. It was subsequently pointed out that since the river was not considered a high quality fishing stream by the Oregon State Game and Fish Department that the pollution problem could not be alleged to exist and used as a basis for injunction; therefore, it was necessary to take the rather unusual tack of declaring the operation a nuisance on the basis of esthetic defilement. An article entitled ”The Death of a Wild Area" by Mr. William Oberteuffer, which appeared in the May-June issue of the Oregon Cascades, related also to the mining situation in the Kalmiopsis Wild Area (Oberteuffer, 1962). This article contains a number of rhetorical statements characteristic of the extreme outdoor enthusiast. For example, ”The Kalmiopsis Wild Area lies mortally wounded in the heart of the Siskiyou National Forest.” Oberteuffer’s description of the mining activity is somewhat less than dispassionate: After a swim in the clear, cold water, we viewed the damage now being done to the tributary of the Chetco. Huge pumps are being used to force great quantities of water at high speed through large nozzles which are m. .. n ...an-aq- 398 directed at washing the banks of the stream downstream through sluice boxes. Here, presumably, gold is recovered. The plan is to follow the main stem of the Chetco for several miles with this practice. The result will be skinned banks, destroyed gravel bars, and complete disruption of the streamside and the streambed flora and fauna. A beautiful stream will vanish. The Forest Service could act against this. Possibly the State could act against this. As yet, neither has. I wonder if the fishermen on the lower Chetco know what is happening to the spawning grounds on the upper Chetco. One man, for personal gains through mining and nonstrategic metal, is ruining a little- known and really wild area. We are letting him do it. This is happening right now in the dedicated wild area. We were there. J. Herbert Stone, Regional Forester, Region 6, replied to Mr. Oberteuffer's article on June 28, 1962.l§1/ He simply pointed out to Mr. Oberteuffer that the mining claims referred to in the article were valid claims, and: ”Under the provisions of the mining laws, the claimant may develop and mine such claims. Also, under the Act of June 4, 1897, 30 Statute 36, 16 U.S.C. 473, the claimant has the right of ingress and egress." An article by The Oregon Journal Outdoor Editor, Tom McAllister, appeared at about this time and cited the mining situation in the Kalmiopsis again. McAllister referred to this as an "agonizing situation” and presumed that "the stage is set for destruction of a wonderful salmon-steelhead fishery." He also noted that a 9-mile road was thrust into the area in March, 1962. 121! Letter, Region 6 files, Portland. 399 The article by McAllister was sent to the Chief in Washington and on August 13, 1962, an airmail letter signed by John Sieker was sent to the Regional Forester of Region 6 referring to the article by McAllister.l§§/ Sieker requested a report on this, and if the road had been built into the Wild Area he wanted to know what authority had been used to permit this to be done. On October 3, 1962, the Regional Forester replied to Sieker's inquiry.l§2/ The Regional Forester provided a copy of the memorandum from the Siskiyou Supervisor that had been sent to Senator Neuberger. In addition he had the following comments: 1. An application for a special-use permit to build a road to the mining claims near the Chetco River and Baby-Foot Creek junction was received by Mr. Darrell Brown on January 3, 1961. It was agreed at that time that mining engineers would have to review the test results of the claims before the special-use permit could be issued. 2. Through an apparent misunderstanding on Mr. Brown's part, he proceeded with the construction of about 9 miles of low—standard road in the spring of 1961, l§§/ Letter, Region 6 files, Portland. 422/ Memorandum to Chief, Forest Service, Region 6 files, Portland. i 5 1 i - u~un 400 without authority of the Forest Service. Following the discovery of this work in May of 1961, claims were examined by a Forest Service engineer and found to be sufficiently productive to be valid. 3. The permit for construction of the road was then issued on April 10, 1962. 4. The road that was constructed was closed by a gate to the public so that mechanized travel could be limited to the mining operation. On November 26, 1963, a Forest Service news release was given to news media which was an attempt to fully explain the regulations under which Wild Areas are established and ad— ministered, particularly with regard to such occupancy uses as mining, and to give a better impresSion of the desire of the Forest Service to maintain the wild and wilderness character of such areas by pointing out the exclusions. The future status of this highly mineralized area appears to be something of a question mark even so. Waldo Lake: Ebb Tide Another case of large significance in the Northwest is the Waldo Lake case. Circumstances surrounding this case were similar in many respects to those associated with the fore— going classification cases. It was one in which there was sentiment for classification, and it involved an area formerly designated as a Limited Area. However, the result was to forego classification in favor of multiple use and recreation _-9--—' 401 area plans which stress a mixture of developed and semiprimitive recreation activities. Also of significance is the fact that this is the only such case to be appealed under Regulation A-lO in the Northwest. Waldo Lake itself (figs. 36 and 37) is the second largest natural lake in the State of Oregon containing over 6,000 acres of surface area, ranging to 400 feet in depth with a deep cobalt color. It was formerly included within the 54,000-acre Waldo Lake Limited Area, but now is surrounded by a 26,600-acre Recreation Area (32,600 including the lake area) (U.S. Forest Service, 1963). Plans for the east side of the lake include 50 family units of developed campgrounds, boat launching sites, a resort site, and a two-lane forest road with lakeside access arteries. Primitive camping facilities and no roads will be permitted on the heavily wooded and many-laked (nearly 300 small lakes) area to the north and west of the lake. Trail and boat access only will be per— mitted. This recreation plan is the end product of a rather tumultuous history of which only some highlights of recent vintage are sketched below. In the latter part of 1958 Region 6 prepared a Multiple Use Plan for the Waldo Lake area proposing the abandonment of Limited Area status and a mixture of recreation and timber deve10pment.l§9/ This was the first such multiple use plan to 199] Memorandum from E. P. Cliff, Assistant Chief, Forest Service, to Region 6, January 8, 1959. Region 6 files, Portland. This memorandum provides some of the background for the proposed T-fi-var—v \ _ WALDO LAKE RECREATION AREA Ouehuvn a Willow-om Nufloncl 7mm Roclon 0 DJ. For." 30"". nun-mm L E 0 E N D -—- Mun".- Anc Inuit] '0'” [‘0 ltd” All. “0’04 Figure 36.--Map of Waldo Lake Recreation Area. it. .' :3;,.::. w . , " f... ¢ nm‘v- $3231 403 . 495I6 (Forest Service photo) Figure 37.-~Waldo Lake looking east from Klovedahl Bay; Gerdine Butte in background. w 404 be attempted by the Forest Service following a Service-wide meeting on such plans earlier at Fresno, California. From the beginning it was planned that recreation would be strongly emphasized in the area, with timber harvesting practiced to remove some timber products and enhance the scenic and other recreation attributes of the area. Reaction to this "declassification" was not long in coming. The proposed multiple use plan was reviewed by Washington Office and Regional Office staffs and drew considerable dis- cussion on the matter of the apparent lack of definitiveness with respect to timber management and its coordination with recreation. This point was to persist throughout the sub- sequent revisions of the plan and was reflected in the reac- tion of various reviewers, including legislators on the local and national level. During 1959, a proposal was made to put part of the area into Wild Area status.l§l/ This was reinforced by a resolution to the same effect for the north and west sides of the lake passed by the Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs at its annual meeting on September 7, 1959.l§3/ It soon became apparent, plan and reflects views of the Forest Service at that time on multiple use planning in general. lél/ Letter from U.S. Congressman Charles 0. Porter to R. F. McArdle, Chief, Forest Service, June 8, 1959. Region 6 files, Portland. 192! Letter from Arthur B. Johnson, President, Federation of Western Outdoor Clubs, to J. Herbert Stone, Regional Forester, Portland, September 28, 1959, Region 6 files, Portland; attached "Resolution No. 4--Wa1do Lake Limited Area." 405 however, that there was insufficient local support for the Wild Area proposal. It was not until February 6, 1961, that approval for final revision and announcement of the adoption of the plan was given to the Regional Forester by the Chief's Office.l§§/ On February 27, 1961, public notice was given of the abandon- ment of the Limited Area designation for Waldo Lake. The public notice inspired a flood of letters and telegrams to Forest Service officials, legislators, and the Secretary of Agriculture. Outdoor groups roundly criticized the action, whereas local Chambers of Commerce and timber interests praised it. Perhaps the crest of the flood was reached with a letter and accompanying statement of March 22, 1961, to Secretary of Agriculture Freeman.l§fl/ This was an appeal of the Regional Forester's decision of the previous month implementing the multiple use plan for Waldo Lake. The appeal was made to the Secretary in View of the participation of the Chief of the Forest Service in the Regional Forester's decision. It was subsequently remanded to the Chief for decision. The appellants claimed that the decision was contrary to the léé/ Memorandum from Assistant Chief Cliff to Region 6 Regional Forester, February 6, 1961. Region 6 files, Portland. léfl/ Letter from J. Michael McCloskey and Karl W. Onthank to Orville L. Freeman, March 22, 1961. Region 6 files, Portland. 406 Multiple Use--Sustained Yield Act of 1960 in several respects. These were all essentially a matter of interpreting the act and the adequacy with which the recreation, fish and wildlife provisions of the act were recognized by the plan. In short, i “ the appeal became a counterproposal. Within 4 months of this appeal, Secretary Freeman prompted the study of long-range management goals of the Forest Service in the Northwest (a direct consequence of the Waldo Lake, Minam River, and other controversies) and the result was the High Mountain Management Policy for the National Forests of- the Northwest Region (Forest Service, 1962). Considerable misinterpretation and apprehensions were raised by the Secretary's actions at this point. Essentially what had happened was that the Secretary of Agriculture asked the Forest Service to withhold surveys contingent upon development of the Waldo Lake area until the larger policy statement was developed. This was protested by those who felt additional ”study" was required in order to provide a sound basis for Waldo Lake's ultimate management program. Requests urging a similar kind of moratorium on such developmental activities pending "further study" also reached the Office of the President.l§§/ léé/ ”Stop orders" were urged $92! Letter to John F. Kennedy, President of the United States, from Dr. Edgar Wayburn, Sierra Club, June 9, 1961. Region 6 files, Portland. 199/ Letter to the President from David Brower, Sierra Club, May 18, 1961. Region 6 files, Portland. 407 for such areas as the North Cascades in Washington State, Minam River, and the remaining "Limited Areas" in Region 6 in- cluding Waldo Lake. Such requests were viewed as contrary to the laws giving the Secretary of Agriculture certain powers to manage, through the Forest Service, the National Forests.l§1/ This appeal was finally decided on April 13, 1962, by the Chief of the Forest Service against the appellants.l§§/ This decision was based upon a somewhat different interpretation of the adequacy with which the Waldo Lake plan gave recognition to recreation values. A counterproposal was also put forth by the Lane County Parks and Recreation Commission on July 10, 1958, and finally adopted September 25, 1961, by the Lane County commissioners.l§2/ On April 10, 1962, a new and revised multiple use plan was prepared,l19/ which was promptly appealed on April 13 to the Secretary of Agriculture as a decision of the Chief of the 491/ Memorandum from W. S. Swingler, Forest Service, to Rodney D. Leonard, assistant to the Secretary of Agriculture, August 1, 1961. Region 6 files, Portland. l§§f Cliff, Edward P. Decision on appeal of J. Michael McCloskey and others to the Chief of the Forest Service from a decision of Regional Forester J. Herbert Stone to place the Waldo Lake Area of the Willamette National Forest under multiple use management. U.S. Forest Service, April 13, 1962. $92/ ”Waldo Lake Statement" July 10, 1958; adopted and approved September 25, 1961. E/ ”Management Plan Waldo Lake Area," April 10, 1962, Region 6 files, Portland. 14 pp. (typewritten). 408 Forest Service. This was denied January 23, l963.lZl/ During the period of this second appeal, Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon requested that the Forest Service set up a "Waldo Lake Recreational Planning Advisory Group."lzgj Senator Morse persistently complained of the vagueness of the various versions of the multiple use plan, even though the Forest Service endeavored to assure him and others that the multiple use plan itself was really nothing more than a broad statement of principles and management decisions which would require detailed functional plans for implementation. The proposed advisory committee was, in the Senator's view, a major means of making the plans for the area understandable and known to laymen. The Senator's suggestion was accepted and on June 22, 1962, a public notice was issued by the Regional Forester to the effect that a lO—man advisory committee had been appointed to advise the Forest Service in its attempt to develop plans for the Waldo Lake area.lZ§/ With the assistance of the Waldo Lake Advisory Committee, the present Waldo Lake Recreation Area Plan was eventually 414/ Freeman, Orville L. Decision on appeal of J. Michael McCloskey, agent, to the Secretary of Agriculture from a decision of the Chief, Forest Service. U.S. Forest Service, January 23, 1963. 412/ Letter from Senator Morse to Edward P. Cliff, May 4, 1962. Region 6 files, Portland. 112/ News release, Pacific Northwest Region, Portland, June 22, 1962. 409 approved September 13, 1963. The abandonment of most of the original area to multiple use plans and the focus of discussion on the smaller recreation area around the lake was a rather unhurried process reflecting the fact that the basic issues were really related to the method of timber harvest proposed in the highly valued recreation area close to the lake. The advisory committee also was revealed to be a particularly valuable device for obtaining an accepted consensus of support for the multiple use and recreation area plans. Finally, it may be inferred that the existence of three already classified wilderness-type areas within 50 miles (Diamond Peak Wild Area to the south and the Three Sisters Wilderness Area and Mount Washington Wild Area to the north) with a combined acreage of 278,803 acres forestalled some demand for additional classi- fied area in this vicinity. , CHAPTER VII A SUMMING UP OF THE CLASSIFICATION EXPERIENCE AND THE APPARENT MODEL This discussion must at the outset admit that the existing record on wilderness classification decision making is not en- tirely revealing for various reasons. Furthermore, the portrayal of this record up to this point has not employed any sophisti— cated "tests" of the significance of particular kinds of fact in the decision making process. There is, therefore, considerable room for speculation about the precise decision rules that have been used in particular cases for allocating this drainage or that patch of timber to wilderness status. Nevertheless, some broad inferences seem possible. Some of these are noted below. Selection of Area One of the most apparent criteria for wilderness classifi- cation from the beginning has been roadlessness. Deny it as we may, if an area is roaded it has little chance of becoming classified as wilderness. Roads have traditionally been viewed as the most blatantly obtrusive intruder of and greatest threat to wilderness. Aldo Leopold and Robert Marshall both were moved to action by their perception of the threats to back— country wilderness presented by vigorous Federal and state road and highway programs. Locally, the Glacier Peak case outstandingly illustrates the impact of road intrusions on classification decisions. "Primitive" modes of transportation, such as foot and horse travel, lend an element of "wilderness atmosphere" 410 411 as well as provide a large measure of control over the number of users. Obviously, roadlessness is not the only criterion for classification of an area as wilderness. We could look forward to a great deal more wilderness, presumably, if this were so. Judging by the record, an added criterion must be related to roughness or brokenness of topography. The wilderness-type areas in the Northwest are, without exception, mountainous areas. This does not mean at all that they are devoid of flat lands or deep soiled, verdant sites. Apparently implicit in this broken—topography criterion is a sense of remoteness. Even though crow-flight distance from a mountain cirque to a standard metropolitan area may be measured in mere minutes, the sharded ridges enfolding the valley may effectively bar all sights and sounds of a mobile population. A feeling akin to nakedness seems to pervade the flat, vast desert scene. This, of course, is a topic of some fascination for the amateur as well as the professional psychiatrist. Another element, perhaps the most important, is the public interest attached to a particular area over time. Although we may be able to chart the trend of wilderness use over time and call this a measure of "demand" for wilderness, clear and present effective demand for a Wilderness Area is revealed only by active requests from the public. A revealing characteristic of the Northwest Region cases described above is the attachment of this public interest to formally or informally designated 412 areas, such as Marshall's roadless zones and the Region 6 Limited Areas. Once named and identified, apparently, the area is marked for "life" in the minds of outdoor enthusiasts. Traditionally, any attempt to modify or "declassify" these areas meets with stiff resistance. Some other criteria yet seem required. The record is less clear about these, although some may be surmised. A certain relative uniqueness attribute seems to cling to most classified areas. The Kalmiopsis Wild Area, for example, is not spectacu- larly scenic in comparison with the North Cascades. Even Kalmiopsis leachiana is relatively abundant in an adjacent drainage. However, the Chetco River basin (in which this area is located) and adjacent area are relatively outstanding by Siskiyou Mountain standards. Relative roadlessness and the rare Kalmiopsis combine with its other attributes to make the Kalmiopsis Wild Area worthy of such designation. Associated with the above criterion of relative uniqueness is one which may be called "center of attraction." Each of the classification cases studied contained a central feature to which attention is attracted. Sometimes an entire range of mountains may be featured, such as the Picketts of the North Cascade Primitive Area. More frequently it is a small group, such as the Three Sisters, or a single mountain, such as Mount Hood or Glacier Peak. Sometimes a single lake (e.g., waldo Lake) or a group of fishing lakes, such as found in the Mountain Lakes Wild Area, may be featured. Such central features are 413 rarely, if ever, a matter of debate. The problems arise with regard to the location of boundaries around the area surrounding the central feature. "Compositeness" or "range" of attributes might be another criterion worth identifying. Eagle Cap Wilderness Area, for another example, is rather ordinary by Rocky Mountain standards. However, it is a relatively unique mountain area by eastern Oregon standards. Eagle Cap peak itself is the highest peak within the area, but it is not spectacularly attractive in comparison with its associates. The lakes and mountain meadows of the Eagle Cap area are also not outstandingly prepossessing. Individually, such attributes are hardly enough to make one take a second look. Nevertheless, when all such attributes are combined in one large area which seems to stand out as a unit from adjacent lands, then it becomes a definite candidate for classification. Presumably, too, a criterion related to lack of such obvious signs of "use" as clear-cut areas of timber harvest; large dwellings; motorized transport facilities, such as airstrips; service areas, such as powerline right-of-way clearings; and hydropower impoundments should be mentioned. Natural "disturbance" such as fire or windthrow may be condoned. Even such things as fires set by early settlers or aboriginals, including the domiciles of these precursors, may be tolerated. What really seems to be required is the absence of signs of "use" by the contemporaries of the user. 414 Perhaps one may refer to this as "contemporaneous virginity. ijre complex criteria may be envisioned, but it is the hypothesis of the present writer that the above loose set of criteria encompasses most of the present operationally viable decision making concepts for initial identification of potential institutionalized wilderness. A supplemental hypothesis is that many of the incantations of the wilderness enthusiast, as well as Forest Service Manual instructions, are really hypotheses or subOptima relating to the kind of product anticipated from wilderness use which have little or nothing to do with identify- ing particular land features for classification. The relation- ship between the criteria mentioned above and the usual statements regarding what a wilderness looks like or does is frequently difficult, at best, to determine. This reflects the truly dynamic nature of the problem of wilderness. The response of the individual to particular inputs of land features must yet be considered hypothetical, since these have not been directly correlated in a meaningful way. Even if we could relate physi- cal land types to emotional response, we would still have the unresolved problem of placing a relative "goodness" value on both the response and the use of the land type to produce this response. The role of economics analysis in this initial phase of area identification is small, although some rough evaluations of alternative uses are implicit. If, for example, the area were known to be highly mineralized, have considerable potential 415 for economic extraction, contain more than a representative fragment of present and prospective high-valued timber, and have a history of interest in and imminent planning for a road or highway, it would undoubtedly be considered marginal as a potential wilderness—type area. The precise utility of other disciplines in this identifi- cation is also an open question but nevertheless obviously exists. Political science would seem particularly useful in view of the hypothesis propounded by Gilligan (1954) that wilderness classification has been used as a political maneuver to thwart National Park expansion in certain areas. We are free to speculate about the relevance of the Goat Rocks classi— fication to this hypothesis. Political science provides some insights into systematic ways to assess public consensus, a particularly pressing need of public land management agencies. Social psychology seems to offer some assistance in objectify— ing some of the more complex criteria for classification. Locating Boundary Alternatives Perhaps the most difficult job in the classification procedure is to locate suitable boundaries. Again, criteria that have some operational viability are not clear—cut. Per- haps the one boundary objective which is most difficult to meet consistently and objectively prior to some expression of consensus in a public hearing is that in the Forest Service Manual which states, "Boundaries should be extended as necessary to include a buffer zone adequate to protect wilderness values." ...— - ---I 416 we may ask, How much is adequate? What are these things called "wilderness values"? Are sight and sound the yardsticks of adequate buffering? Are we concerned here with shielding the eyes and ears of the beholder from all evidence of timber harvesting as he hikes up the trail into the wilderness or surveys the sylvan scene outside the boundaries from the highest snow-shrouded peak within the Wilderness Area? The record of classification is somewhat ambiguous about boundary criteria. Primitive Area boundaries were generally established along rectangular survey (e.g., section and township) lines where they were known. Early reclassifications also reflect this. Eagle Cap, Three Sisters, and the North Cascades Primitive Areas were largely delimited this way. The Eagle Cap Wilderness Area is still rectangularly bounded, even though irregularly, due to exclusions of certain areas such as the Lostine River drainage. Rectangular survey lines of course provide more definitive legal descriptions. Rigid adherence to such boundaries has degenerated somewhat over time and is particularly noticeable in the Glacier Peak and Kalmiopsis boundaries where topographic features, such as ridgelines and knolls standing opposite one another across drainages, were heavily used. The Horse Creek boundary of the Three Sisters area is perhaps the most well—known example of the use of a stream as a boundary. Such topographic features at least fulfill the objective of being readily identifiable on the ground. 417 With the advent of a more certain and restrictive policy for management of wilderness has developed the realistic view that those areas, such as highly mineralized areas which cannot be protected by classification, should not be included within potential classified areas. This was particularly stressed during the early Glacier Peak case. Even so, some classifica— tions, notably the Kalmiopsis Wild Area, were made including well-known deposits of valuable minerals, presumably because the values realized from classification would be sufficient to offset the negative impact of mineral development. The matter of mining access to classified wilderness has been covered in some detail in ORRRC Report 3 (University of California Wildland Research Center, 1962). Suffice it to say that the several existing laws relating to mining and prospecting do not allow the Forest Service to permanently exclude this kind of development. Whether such development actually permanently damages the wilderness site is an irrele- vant matter. It is enough that this activity is not in keeping with present concepts of the wilderness environment. It may thus become tactically expedient, in some cases, to exclude mineral deposits in acknowledgment of the inevitable; while in others there may be something to be gained by including mineralized areas in wilderness and letting the mining in~ terests shoulder the responsibility for "breaking and entering" the wilderness sanctuary. The existence of any previous boundaries, no mater how poorly they may "fit" wilderness concepts today, also is a 418 matter to be reckoned with. Again, once an area has been identified, it "sticks" in the public consciousness and becomes difficult to erase, particularly when the proposed erasure means a reduction of "classified" area. Avoidance of conflict with existing use, ready recogniza- bility, the ability to bar motor vehicle traffic (mere roadless- ness may do this), and provision of buffering may all, as boundary objectives, be subsumed under one: defensibility. There is nothing profound or new about this objective; but it does connote more accurately the kind of problem dealt with. Boundary alternative selection, after all is said and done, may be more of an "art” than a "science" because of the personal expertise in particular places that must be applied. Further- more, it is broad enough to permit the use of several more or less precise rationales devolving from several relevant disciplines, such as political science and economics. Defensi- bility becomes a crude kind of single value scale for ranking alternatives in a "better than" order. Gathering the Facts The classification record reveals that there is usually a strikingly small number of alternative enclosures to be evaluated and for which more detailed facts may be gathered. This may be attributed again to the personal expertise of the land manager. On the other hand, it may also be partly attributed to the possibility that there are in fact few alternatives and these in turn are dependent on the ability of the land 419 manager, rather than the public, to perceive them. It also seems reflective of the apparent fact that before any boundaries are proposed, the land manager has consulted widely with various groups who would be importantly concerned with the decisions. Alternative boundaries may in fact reflect differences between these groups rather than differences perceived by the land manager. At any rate, one "most defensible" boundary, based on the preliminary broad asseSSment of alternatives, is selected. Then facts about this area are gathered in some detail. These include economic facts, physical inventory facts, "public opinion" facts, esthetics facts, and others. These facts provide a basis for discussion of this proposal with others. Broadly speaking, the degree of refinement or depth of analysis required to develop the kinds of facts used has been relatively low. Nevertheless, these rather raw data have been adequate as a point of departure for discussion and eventual consummation of important land use decisions. This serves also to characterize the kind of decision that is made as well as the nature of the data available. It is not at all clear or certain that ”better" decisions would be forthcoming from "better" data. The record does suggest, however, that better or more detailed information might have frequently served to obtain a more pointed expression of public opinion and a foreshortened decision period. The process by which facts are obtained is relatively straightforward, involving a summary of existing resource 420 inventory and use data for the area under study. This is usually provided by the Ranger Districts. Very little supple- mental study to provide support for statements about such things as need for wilderness or relative economic values has been conducted. Of some interest is the fact that many of the early reclassification reports followed Primitive Area establishment reports almost verbatim, with only a modest amount of data updating to accommodate those areas which had, as a matter of course during management activities, new land and/or timber surveys made in them. Very little sophisticated analysis of future values, needs, and supplies of alternative goods and services provided by wilderness is employed. Again, there is no assurance that a better decision would be made with the results of such fore- casting before us. Nevertheless, the absence of such analysis is conspicuous for such long—range decisions as committing thousands of acres of public land to wilderness status. Even though our methods of forecasting may be crude, it is by no means obvious that the future is of as little importance as the lack of their use suggests. Economic facts are always called for in these cases, although the relative importance of economic facts is also an open question. Usually, timber stumpage values are estimated based on current prices; grazing receipts to the agency may be estimated; perhaps some mineral prices will be indicated; and some general statement of the relative local and regional importance of these values will be made. 421 We may speculate about why economic facts have not been more intensively developed in these cases, although it seems certain that one reason is that classification studies are made in a period of time too short to develop the kinds of economic facts which seem to be most sought after. The kinds of economic facts that are alluded to in reports on the proposed areas and frequently measured and entered into the hearings records are those "impact" measures of expenditures, income, and employment (primary and secondary) foregone (or created) by the classifi- cation of all or parts of the proposed area. These are the kinds of facts which result from detailed interindustry rela- tions studies, although some can be obtained from crude ratio estimates using existing data, such as that from the Census of Manufactures, 1958. To date, this area has not been adequately covered by research in spite of a rather obvious currency and perhaps because it is expensive, time consuming, and somewhat static in nature. This will be discussed below. Formal benefit-cost analyses have not been attempted although "benefit- cost ratio thinking" is implicit in the decisions. Another reason economics analysis and economic facts have seemed to have been slighted in wilderness classification cases is that the line-staff officers who make the studies and de- cisions have little if any training in economics. There are, in addition, no staff economists to turn to at the National Forest or Regional Office level. Hence, economics advice must come from those in research or academic positions, and to date l 422 these sources have been utilized on a very informal and less than full—fledged basis. In summary, the data selected for discussion are usually the simplest ones, available for the here and now, that will fill in the blanks of the required report on the proposed area. These are in turn supplemented with judgments that, while precise, may not explicitly identify their rationale. Some of the most important facts are those that occur after the report is prepared, but before the decision is made. These are re- lated to how well the public likes the proposal and are expressed in the hearings, among other places. Making the Choice If the land managers who write the report on the proposed classified area have done a "good" job, there presumably will be no need for a hearing. They will of course have done an equally "good" job if they can determine that the area should not be classified because of potential, exceptionally violent, adverse reaction to classification. In reality, the choice of which alternative area should and will be classified is a mutual or complementary choice made by the land manager and the public. If the public does not like the proposal it can (and does) suggest changes. And even if the public land manager does not like the suggested changes, he can rarely, if ever, completely ignore them in spite of certain critics to the contrary. The basis of choice varies from case to case as illustrated by the various cases 423 described above. Frequently this is not made explicit. It would seem that considerable strides forward in public under- standing could be made if additional choice mechanisms and criteria, such as those which may be provided by economics, were more liberally employed. The "model" for wilderness classification, then, is both simple in structure, complex in content. An area is selected, boundaries are proposed, and a choice is made. Selection of the area is perhaps the simplest task of all in the institution- alized wilderness context. It seems that application of con- siderable personal expertise is required to implement the second part of the model. More explicitness would certainly contribute to public understanding of the decision to be made. The pro- posed area is then presented to the public as a package to be accepted, rejected, or modified. Again, the criteria for evaluating public reaction are not made explicit, and this too is an area in which systematic evaluation yardsticks would aid in public understanding of the issues. How Much More Wilderness in the Northwest? The 1959 National Forest Recreation Survey was alluded to above. This was the most recent attempt to make a physical inventory of the amount of various kinds of existing and poten— tial recreation sites on the National Forests. Wilderness, Wild, and Roadless Areas were also inventoried. The results of this survey are currently being modified and incorporated in ‘ *- ~ “2.“.- \ I ~_. .. 424 recreation management plans for each of the National Forests. For this and other reasons this data will not be made public, although when the management plans are completed they will be available for public inspection. Some broad comparisons and inferences are nevertheless possible, based on the National Forest Recreation Survey data. One of these is that the amount of "potential" (and unclassified) wilderness-type areas yet remaining on Region 6 National Forests is perhaps somewhat less than a million acres or somewhat less than half again as much as was classified by the end of 1960. This estimate underscores the fact that roadlessness is an insufficient criterion of institutionalized wilderness, since a 1962 estimate revealed that 9-1/4 million acres of undevel- opedlli/ National Forest lands outside classified wilderness- type areas existed in Region 6 (Forest Service, 1962). This was 40 percent of all National Forest lands in the Region. These data also reveal some apparent shortages of wilderness-type area in some locales and surpluses in others based on estimates of future use and available acreage for such use. This suggests that new classifications and management programs may be faced with the problem of distributing use to the surplus areas and restricting use in deficit areas. llfl/ "Undeveloped areas" are defined as areas of 5,000 acres or more at least one-quarter mile or more from an exist- ing road. 425 Also suggested by the National Forest Recreation Survey data is the apparent fact that prospective classifications of wilderness—type areas in Region 6 will, in total, be somewhat less than the estimated potential acreage of such areas. It is also striking that the apparent acreage of potential wil- derness is nearly the same as the Limited Area acreage as of 1957, less Glacier Peak. It may be surmised that much of this potential wilderness is found in the old Limited Area locations. In general, it seems safe to state that, given present practices and criteria for classifying wilderness-type areas on the National Forests of Region 6, virtually all potential classified wilderness has been identified. Most of these areas have been long identified and treated as predominantly valuable for recreation use. Most of those under consideration for classification are in or adjacent to the old Limited Areas. This statement does not mean that all areas with certain wilderness-type characteristics such as roadlessness, solitude, and esthetic splendor have been set aside for imminent classi- fication. It simply means that we seem to have located most of the institutionalized wilderness of the variety that has been featured in Forest Service programs since the late 1920's. Should wilderness by legislation eventually succeed in the Congress, it will probably not result in any significant changes in acreage that is or will be in the National Wilderness Preservation System from National Forest lands in Region 6. It will, of course, have some influence on what we officially 426 designate wilderness on National Park and other agency lands. What seems most likely in the future is an informal desig- nation of much of the undeveloped back country of the National Forests, outside classified areas, for primitive recreation activities. The movement in this direction by Region 6 in recreation management planning has already been noted above. In many respects this positive approach seems to be an admirable way to bridge the gap between classification and the need to maintain a flexible scheme of management in the face of changing resource demands. It is a frank admission of the impossibili- ties of measuring with certainty the relative needs for these in—between lands. Whether such a policy can withstand the certain pressures from outdoor groups who will insist on the greater assurances of protection given by classification is an open question. Should such pressures force more classifications, however, it seems certain that the concept of wilderness will be tightly stretched to accommodate some relatively second—rate areas. A new classification designation would seem a better way to protect existing quality concepts of wilderness, as well as permit protection of new areas which will absorb some of the primitive-type recreation uses that are less demanding in terms of wilderness characteristics. Finally, it must be pointed out, that merely because the last of classified wilderness as we know it today is apparently in sight, the interuse conflicts that have characterized the wilderness debate are not at an end. There will always be a 427 need for careful consideration of the kind and level of alterna- tive uses of particular land areas in the face of changing needs and resource perceptions of users. Hence, there is no escape from the need to press forward in the development of analytical tools for land use planning. PART III - ECONOMICS AND WILDERNESS CHAPTER‘VIII THE CONTRIBUTION OF ECONOMICS TO THE WILDERNESS ALLOCATION DECISION A backward glance at the preceding two parts of this thesis reveals that three main things have been accomplished: (1) a general rationale for decision making has been outlined; (2) the ideology of wilderness and related concepts has been characterized; and (3) some of the history of wilderness land allocation in the Northwest has been set down, and some inferences have been drawn from this experience about wilderness land allocation decision making. The purpose of this section of the thesis is to explore some aspects of one decision making discipline-—economics-—and determine how it might be employed in making wilderness land allocation decisions. This will be done in several stages: 1. A quick sketch of what it is that economics offers in general as a decision making tool. 2. A general survey of some subfields of economics in which the economic aspects of wilderness fall. 3. A brief critique of economic valuation techniques which have been proposed for related kinds of problems. 4. A brief critique of selected economics choice mechanisms. 5. The selection of apparently relevant economic techniques for accommodating the economic aspects of wilderness. 6. Demonstration of the selected techniques. 428 429 Advanced students of economics will find this portion of the thesis disappointingly (certainly disproportionately) short. Such readers are referred to the several literature citations and the footnotes therein for more complete discussions. This foreshortened analysis nevertheless reflects the author's judgment of the relative importance of what he has to say about economics in this thesis about institutionalized wilderness. Major work was accomplished in the attempt to portray the ideological backgrounds and the actual decision making processes insofar as they were a matter of record. It will be the responsi- bility of other students to belabor economics analysis in an institutionalized wilderness context. Economics and the Logic of Choice Ise (1962, p. 105) has written that "The ordinary laws of the market place are of little use in determining whether wilderness areas can be economically justified." Kelso (1962) generally agreed with this, although he disagreed with Ise's use of discounted present values as the basis for discarding economic criteria for allocating lands to wilderness. Both seem to agree that such allocation is largely a political process and that conservationists have to "sleep in their armor" in order to maintain the fight for wilderness. In the same dialogue, Kelso (1962, P. 112) concludes that, "Better choice concerning wilderness will come from more research into the processes of social action than from the determination of economic normative maxima." —7—| 430 Economics and Economic Objectives Aside from its role in wilderness decision making, the discipline of economics and its role in human affairs at large have elicited a well-known variety of responses. A traditional definition of economics supplied by Stigler (1947) is that, "Economics is the study of the principles governing the alloca- tion of scarce means among competing ends when the objective of ' Samuelson the allocation is to maximize attainment of the ends.‘ (1961) uses the same general choice framework, but specifies the processes of production, distribution, and consumption, and allows economists to be concerned even when money is not in- volved. Boulding (1948) has tried to draw the boundaries tighter with an explicit listing of those topics with which an economist is and is not concerned. Essentially, says Boulding, the economist must concentrate his attention on those areas where values are measured in numerical terms. As an economist, he cannot handle such questions as the necessity for large armaments or the efficaciousness of a marriage or the importance of a mellow sunset viewed from a mountaintop by a wilderness backpacker. Somehow, these definitional niceties become gamelike, leaving a frustrated reader asking the author to put his cre— dentials away and get on with the job. Furthermore, such efforts seem to lead to an overbearing concentration of priority on economics. Another eminent economist (Galbraith, 1964) has urged an escape from economic priorities in order that we can 431 more effectively attack the problem of the quality of living in the face of affluence—-an aspect of which is, apparently, wil— derness. Because his statement underlies the author's own bias in this matter, a portion is quoted below (Galbraith, 1964, p. 122): But we can have...social planning that erases grime and squalor and which preserves and enhances beauty. A price in industrial efficiency may be necessary. Indeed it should be assumed. Economic development enables us to pay the price; it is why we have development. We do not have development in order to make our surroundings more hideous, our culture more meritricious or our lives less complete. In other words, we should decide what we want from life first, then decide whether we can afford it. Many economists, it would seem, become burdened with the normative edict: we ought to like something because it maximizes net return or minimizes the ad- verse economic consequences. Mbre importantly, this expression of rationality as an assumption in economics analysis is a favorite target for critics who mistake it (the assumption) for an overruling, immutable, and diabolical bent which characterizes all of economics (and all economists). Economic Logic in Choice Nevertheless, the essence of economics as a decision making discipline that is most important here is its inherent logic of choice. Milstein (1961), among others, has laid great stress on this. This becomes simply a matter of rationality (relating means to ends) in an economizing context. When there are alternative means of achieving objectives and each alternative yields consequences to be avoided if possible, then one should '—-:.-_‘.}':=§_. w 432 be expected to choose the alternative action which avoids as much of the consequences as possible while still attaining specified objectives. From a purely economic point of view in this context, if we are really indifferent to two or more alternative boundary proposals for a Wilderness Area (both yield the same "satisfaction"), ll then we might choose the one which "costs least. Or, if two or more alternative boundary proposals incur the same "cost," we would be likely to choose the one which yielded greatest "satisfaction." A third case would be if one alternative boundary yielded lower "satisfactions" but lower costs as well compared with another alternative. The choice is not apparent in this case. A fourth, "no-contest," case is that in which one alterna- tive yields both higher "satisfactions" and lower "costs” than other alternatives. What is required to resolve the third case is some kind of preference or value scale by which we can measure satisfactions and costs and compare them. Assuming such a scale exists, we must formulate a criterion (or criteria) which will tell us when we have reached our objective. Static production economics theory suggests two classes of decisions to be made by producers: (l) the amounts and combina- tions thereof, of resources to employ, and (2) the amount of product to produce. It is customary to assume that the decision maker wishes to maximize net dollar return (or the positive revenue difference between revenue and cost). With such an 433 objective, two "model" analyses are available: (1) an 33225 mgdgl, wherein resources are used in their least cost combina- tion up to that point where the increment to total factor cost is just equal to the increment to total value received for the product produced attributable to the added resource use; and (2) an output model, wherein products are produced up to that level at which the increment to total revenue is equal to the increment to total cost attributable to the production of one more unit of product. With this objective, the use of either model will yield the same resource use and product output. Demand or consumption analysis deals with how consumers do or should choose among the goods and services produced. It is also concerned with the allocation (or distribution) of these goods and services among consumers. Two general approaches are found: (1) the so-called "classical utility" approach and (2) indifference curve analysis. The first approach relies upon conceptual quantification of consumer utility or satis- faction derived from consumed goods and services so that units thereof may be manipulated mathematically in conjunction with the prices of these goods and services. The logic of choice developed using marginal analysis of these quantities is directed toward maximizing consumer satisfactions given a fixed income. This occurs when the consumer spends his income on the alterna- tive goods and services in such amounts that the increments to total satisfaction for the last dollar spent on every item are exactly equal. 434 Somewhat similar reasoning is used to demonstrate the attainment of maximum satisfaction when two or more goods are to be allocated among two or more consumers. The logic of choice is that total satisfactions (the sum of all individual satisfactions) will be maximized when the marginal rates of substitution of each commodity for all others are the same for all consumers. If the situation exists where this condition does not prevail, consumers would find it advantageous to trade goods. For example, if one unit of x is worth 1.5 units of y to consumer A; but it is worth 2 units of y to consumer B, and if A were then to give B one—half unit of x in exchange for 1 unit of y, A would "better" off by .25 units of y and B would remain as "satisfied" as he was. Although this illustrates a recognition of differences among consumers and their satisfac- ' it avoids a crucial issue: the amount of tion "intensities,' income that consumers should have. Indifference curve analysis of demand attempts to circum- vent the difficulties involved in visualizing units of utility or satisfaction. It does this by presenting the consumer with a range of alternative combinations of goods and asking him to choose those combinations: (1) to which he is indifferent, i.e., satisfactions are equal; and (2) which yield lesser or greater satisfactions. The logic of choice here is simply that the consumer will simply select that combination which yields highest satisfactions at the limit of his income or budget for such purchases. —I .5 435 In static, perfect competition, equilibrium analysis, it can be demonstrated that consumption and production will become "optimized" in the sense that resources will be optimally allo- cated to produce the right kinds and amounts of goods and services, consumers will maximize satisfactions and, presumably, will have just the "right" amount of income. This latter point provides the kernel of debate in distribution theory, for it is one thing to measure the marginal value productivity of a worker in a factory and another to say just how much income he should have. The above statements do not, of course, expose much of the substance of economics analysis. Nevertheless, it is felt that they represent core concepts and reveal in a basic way the logic of choice which commends economics to our attention. Significant Wilderness '; Allocation Characteristics 1 Although much effort has been expended above describing various ideas about wilderness, it seems helpful at this juncture to summarize a few characteristics of the wilderness allocation process that seem particularly relevant for economics analysis. 1. There does not appear to be a meaningful homogeneous unit of measurement for wilderness land. 2. Wilderness land is unevenly distributed geographically. 3. There are both economic and noneconomic consequences of allocating land to wilderness. Hence, several value 436 scales are called upon to measure the value produc- tivity of alternatives. 4. In spite of these problems, the general amenability of wilderness to an allocation process employing the gen— eral logic of choice of economics seems recommended by: a. The apparent need to choose among alternative land uses for all or parts of particular wilderness-type areas. b. The obvious demand for and benefits of wilderness. c. The costs of wilderness. Welfare and Natural Resources Economics When an economist approaches a problem such as wilderness land allocation, he will do well to consider his subject from the broad, sometimes indefinable, perspective of total "welfare." If he does not, the game is surely lost. Once this transition is made, however, he should be able to accept the assertion of this thesis that the objective of maximum net dollar return is really only one criterion of welfare, and that the logic of choice of economics can be applied (Professor Boulding notwith» standing) to matters ordinarily left to noneconomists--e.g., the allocation of land to wilderness. A strong hypothesis that suggests itself at this point is that most economists would agree with this notion, but that they prefer to define the field of economics more narrowly in terms of what most economists "do." The author professes no special competence in either wel- fare or natural resources economics. Nevertheless, these two 437 areas represent theoretical and applied fields which appear relevant to the "economics of wilderness." Without attempting to fence off these two respective areas, some central charac— teristics of each are outlined.below. This outlining should be considered reflective of a point of view taken by the author rather than a well—balanced synopsis of the subjects. While all economists are concerned with "welfare," some have devoted an uncommon amount of ardor to the task of defin- ing welfare in a rigorous way and developing facilitating con- cepts and techniques for its analysis. Only a few of these will be referred to during this short discussion. The books by Hla Myint (1948), Arrow (1951), Little (1957), and Rothenberg (1961) were particularly insightful. Mishan's (1960) review is probably the most concisely comprehensive survey of rela- tively recent developments. Not all economists are concerned with natural resources as such. Yet some have made the economics of natural resource use a trademark of their work. .The most notable contemporary is probably Professor 8. V. Ciriacy—Wantrup of the Giannini Foundation at the University of California whose studies and writings in this field are now legion. Numerous others are developing expertise in special aspects, such as minerals and water development, grazing, commercial and sport fisheries, and outdoor recreation. Only a few observations of some of these students are reviewed below. 438 The Search for "Welfare" "Science is measurement," or so reads the seal which is imprinted on publications sponsored by the Cowles Commission for Research in Economics. One must therefore be impressed with the zealous quest for scientific stature which seems to mark welfare economics studies. This quest has, in the main, been for a way to supply or derive a "community preference" scale which "resolves" or aggregates all values held by the community. Such a scale is required in order to answer the central question with which welfare economics is concerned: Are we as individuals and/or groups better or worse off as a result of alternative actions? Furthermore, this question leads to speculation about the alternative action which will maximize welfare, however it may be defined. welfare economics is further characterized in large measure by ethical questions of goodness and badness since relative "betterness" may be viewed as a compromise between "goods" (e.g., dollar revenue and spiritual satisfaction) and "bads" (e.g., dollar costs and moral degradation). The relevance to wilderness allocation is clear. By allocating a heavily timbered river valley to wilderness we may enhance the solid configuration of the entire wilderness and provide protection fOr scenic trail routes to the higher back country. At the same time, the timber volumes foregone from.commercial utilization may result in a reduction of the allowable cut with all of its attendant economic and other 439 social consequences. A local sawmill may suddenly find part of its supply of timber no longer within the bounds of economic feasibility because of the withdrawal of an easily accessible portion. The loss of the local mill may mean the loss of local payroll, employment, and induced community effects. While adjustments can occur (e.g., migration of the displaced labor, public relief payments, relocation of the plant, etc.), we nevertheless have the problem of deciding whether "we" (all of "us") are better off or not by acceding to the demands of wilderness proponents for classification. Is it better that wilderness proponents are satisfied and local economies are disrupted (even if only temporarily); or is it better that wilderness proponents be dissatisfied and the local economy remain in its present state, which may be less than optimum from an economic point of view? Is it better for some members of society to be made better off at the expense of others? Can or should the "winners" compensate the ”losers"? How far are the benefits and losses from the alternatives dispersed and who should compensate whom? In these questions are classic issues of welfare economics. Obviously, welfare broadly defined is more than economic welfare narrowly defined in terms of monetary income, goods, and services.lZ§/ Although economics provides a cogent means llé/ Little (1957) suggests that "happiness" can be sub- stituted for "welfare" and that as economic happiness is virtually meaningless, so also is economic welfare. Hence, he suggests it 440 of measuring some aspects of welfare, it is not a sufficient tool to use in allocating land to wilderness if our record of allocation is any indicator of community preferences in the matter. Hence, other aspects of welfare must also be measured, coupled with the economic aspects, and subjected to the economizing principle or logic of choice that characterizes the broad concept of economics used herein. Whether "welfare" or "happiness" can be measured in a universally acceptable manner is still an open question. Mbst analysts apparently agree with Pigou (1912) that welfare is an attitude of mind taken by the individual and that it is a moot point whether the individual attitude represents the "social" attitude. Still most welfare economists also agree with the Pigovian notion that we will have taken significant strides forward in analysis by bringing what aspects of welfare we can into relation with the measuring rod of money. Wfithout belaboring the history of development of what passes for welfare economics, it can be noted that the welfare implications of the marginal utility analysis provided by Jevons, Marshall, Pigou, and others have been extensively is more accurate to refer to the economic factors such as money income, goods, and services, which contribute to happiness, as "causes" of changes in happiness. "Happiness" in this context may be construed broadly as the coincidence of personal and public norms. That is, what one wants to do is what one ought to do in view of community prefer- ences. Community norms and preferences are presumed to be known to all and represent a consensus of individual norms and preferences. 441 examined. The marginal analysis with all of the elaborate trappings of assumptions and mathematical manipulations charac- teristic of static equilibrium analysis seemed to provide an objective mechanism for choosing among alternative states. Little (1957, p. 10) sums up the relationship of utilitarian economics to welfare economics this way: An essential feature of the Pigovian type of welfare economics is the assumption that each individual tries to maximize his own satisfaction. One could never say with much confidence that any change would increase the sum total of satisfaction if individuals were liable to let one down by suddenly trying to make themselves miserable. This assumption fitted in very well with the Marshallian theory of consumer's demand. It was thought that little could be said about the behaviour of prices if demand was not determined by the behaviour of rational individuals, and a rational man, i.e., the "economic man," was one who tried to maximize his satis- faction. On this assumption the individual spends his money in such a way that the marginal unit of money is expected to yield the same amount of satisfaction on whatever it is spent. From this it can be deduced that he makes the marginal utilities of every pair of things he consumes proportional to their prices. Then, given the prices of everything, and given the principle of diminishing marginal utility, the way in which each individual spends his money is determined. Thus the theory of value, or price, and the theory of economic welfare were hand in glove, both being based on the utility theory of consumer behaviour. However, this alliance was uneasy for it raised such questions as that pertaining to the marginal utility of money itself which might vary among people in different income levels. Furthermore, many argued that the "happiness" of indi- viduals was not susceptible to addition to obtain a "social" happiness, and that any individual's happiness was really not comparable to another's. 442 The attempt to abandon cardinal utility welfare analysis led welfare analysts to ordinal analysis based on Edgeworth's indifference curve concepts. This, as noted above, required only that individuals be able to determine whether one alterna- tive is "better than" another and be guided in the selection of the "best” by income restraints. The substantial body of literature subsequently in welfare economics attests to the problems faced by both kinds of analysis. Some of these arguments and ideas will be raised as wilderness land allocation is discussed in more detail below. In spite of the ongoing debate, a number of what may be called empirical welfare economics studies have been made, notably in the fields of public services and natural resources (McKean, 1958; Eckstein, 1958; Krutilla and Eckstein, 1958; Mass, 1962; and Wollman, 1962). In these studies, the evalua- tions of alternative programs carry with them both implicit and explicit value judgments about welfare. These studies, too, illustrate the channels into which applied welfare economics is being diverted. Operations research, systems analysis, applied benefit-cost analyses and linear programing are frameworks and techniques used in these areas of applica- tion of welfare concepts. Some Welfare Criteria During the expansion of exPlicit welfare doctrines, several sets of criteria for judging "betterness," in at least an explicit if not "objective” way, have been proposed. Four 443 of these have been neatly summarized by Baumol (1961), and we shall add here those advanced by Little (1957) and Rothenberg (1961). l. The Pareto criterion.--This criterion is attributed to the Italian economist, Vilfredo Pareto, who somewhat modified Edgeworth's indifference curve analysis shortly after the turn of the present century. The essence of the argument is simply that society as a whole is better off, by some measure of "better,” if a change from one state of affairs to another betters at least one person without harming any other. Figure 38 is used to demonstrate this. Uy and UX represent some undefined measures of welfare applicable to two persons, X and Y. Assume the beginning state of affairs is point A with 01y and 01x also undefined. If a change in programs results in a new state of affairs, B, then we surmise that both X and Y have benefited for their welfares have each increased an undefined amount from 1 to 2 on their respective "betterness” scales. A new change of program to C, however, does not increase X's welfare, but does increase welfare for Y. We may say, nevertheless, that overall there has been an increase in total welfare. Let us now imagine a new program change which moves from C to state of affairs D. There has certainly been an increase in 444 .25y ————— -——TC l I 47123 ————— _—T—-_”-1D l _-—— A I l >’ “T I I : I | l l' i m- 4 0 IX :5): 4x UX X Figure 38.--Demonstration of Pareto criterion given alternative states of affairs involving two persons. 445 welfare for X, but a decrease in welfare for Y in this change. At this point, our Pareto criterion fails us. We have not provided more than undefined betterness scales to work with and, hence, we have no way of knowing whether X's gain made up for Y's loss in the move from C to D. The Kaldor criterion.--Nicholas Kaldor (1939), was perhaps the first to formally suggest that "winners" (like X in the move from C to D in figure 38) should at least be able to compensate the losers (like Y) out of the proceeds of the change from one state of affairs to another. Rothenberg (1961) refers to the centering of attention of welfare economists on this "Compensation Principle” as the "New Welfare Economics." Generally, the criterion proposes that if the value to the winner of the move is worth more to the winner than the value of the loss to the loser, then the winner could compensate the loser and still retain part of the gain. In this case, welfare is presumed to have been increased by the change. Using figure 39 we can demonstrate this criterion. The northeast quadrant bounded by WAW' represents the area within which all states of affairs are "better than” A. Curve RR' represents a utility possibility curve which is the locus of all combinations of Uy and Ux which can be attained by a simple redistribution 446 Figure 39.--Demonstration of Kaldor welfare criterion. 447 of wealth between the two individuals--and by no other means. Thus a move from.A to D would represent an increase in welfare by this criterion because X could, by paying compensation to Y, put himself either, in effect, at C or B and still be better off than he was at A; and both of these positions represent total welfare positions superior to A. By this criterion, the compensation must only be potentially payable and not actually paid. If it is actually paid, of course, the Pareto criterion is sufficient. The Scitovsky double criterion.--Tibor Scitovsky (1941), a short time later, commented on Kaldor's criterion pointing out that when there are in effect two intersecting utility possibility curves like QQ' and RR' in figure 40, the return to the old position, A, can be as rewarding as the change to the new position, B. Should this odd situation occur (wherein the terms of compensation change with a change in states of affairs), Scitovsky suggests using the Kaldor criterion twice: a. Once to determine if the move from the starting state of affairs is an improvement. b. And again to ascertain that a return to the original state of affairs would 22E be an improve- ment. 448 Figure 40.--Demonstration of possible indeterminancy when two utility possibility curves intersect. 449 The change must pass both tests to warrant the judgment that welfare would be improved by it. Baumol is critical of both the Kaldor and Scitovsky criteria because both apparently ignore a presumed possibility for the diminishing marginal utility of money. What would be a small gain to the winner might be a large loss to the loser. Both criteria ignore this kind of interpersonal comparison and concomitant questions about welfare (income) distribution. Finally, in criticism of these two criteria, Baumol points out that where a move is made from B to C in figure 40 and utility possibility curve TT' results, neither criterion helps for we are not certain that a state of affairs exists for which X would be willing to compensate Y sufficiently along this new utility possibility curve. 4. The Bergson criterion.-—Rothenberg as well as Baumol is more satisfied with the criterion proposed earlier by Abram Bergson (1938). Baumol proposes a figure like figure 41 to demonstrate this criterion. Lines I1 - I4 are community indifference curves representing respec- tively higher levels of community welfare. Each curve represents the locus of all combinations of X's and Y's welfares to which the community assigns the same value. A move from A to B is judged an improvement in community welfare, for the community as a whole has attained a higher level of welfare. The same judgment is made for the move to C from A for the same reason, D I4 A 13 I2 I, _ Ux Figure 4l.--Social preference map demonstrating Bergson welfare criterion. 451 although C is no better than B in the community's eyes, and X has lost considerably compared with both A and B. The catch with the Bergson criterion is in defining the social preference map. The Rothenberg criterion.--Rothenberg (1961) employs the Bergson criterion heavily in his analysis of alternative welfare concepts. His conclusions relate principally to the necessity to find a socially acceptable welfare decision making process. He suggests such processes are found in viable, stable, decision making institu- tions, e.g., the family, the group, the government 3; agency. Because they are viable, he argues, they must ; reflect a consensus of social values and make decisions ordering social states accordingly. The social welfare ‘5. function thus becomes an institutionalized decision making process. His concluding remarks are quoted below (pp. 334, 335): It is certainly true that a decision—making process subject to heavy popular disapproval could not be usefully considered a Social Wel- fare Function. But this is exactly the point. The decision-making process which can be con- sidered a Social Welfare Function, and it is of this that contemporary social science speaks, ii so highly institutionalized, so pervasively and deeply accepted, that this acceptance involves individuals interiorizing it as a personal value. Acceptance or rejection of basic institutional decision functions is actually part of the 452 gradual process by which each individual is socialized into his society. It is within this same process, moreover, that the individual develops all his values, his whole orientation for future behavior. Within any stable social system (and the economic system is a part of this social system) the stability is given only by such widespread interiorization of the values implicit in accepting the major social decision-making processes. These values, this acceptance, persists for the most part inde- pendently of rational calculation. One could say, in fact, that it is they that provide the goals for each individual which define the direction rational calculation must take. 6. The Little criterion.—-The Little (1957) criterion is modeled somewhat along the lines of the Kaldor criterion, but with more emphasis upon income distribution. He expresses it as follows (p. 123): A change is economically desirable if it results in a good redistribution of welfare, and if a policy of redistributing money by lump—sum transfers could not make everyone as well off as they would be if the change were made. He then qualifies it with the statement, "so long as it is judged that still better‘changes are not thereby prejudiced." Thus, a change which increased economic welfare but would prejudice a still better position attainable through simple income redistribution would not be permitted. The above criteria still do not reveal many of the relevant concepts of welfare economics. For example, the need for account— ing for external economies and diseconomies given a change in states of affairs is not explicitly dealt with. Nevertheless, it is 453 felt that they provide an adequate point of departure for reflecting upon the welfare aspects of wilderness land alloca— tion. Kinds of Resources and Formal Allocation Models From time to time, special emphasis upon "natural resource economics” and/or "conservation economics” is found in economics literature. The work by Bunce (1940) has been cited above. Two earlier works of classic stature are articles by Ise (1925) and Hotelling (1931). Two major and more recent books on the subject(s) are those by Anthony Scott (1955) and S. V. Ciriacy— Wantrup (1952). The present discussion will rely mainly on the book by Ciriacy-Wantrup and the concise treatment of the same topics provided by Heady (1952) in chapter 26 of his book, ”Economics of Agricultural Production and Resource Use." It has been hinted at above that the distinction between a ”natural” and an "unnatural" resource (whatever that may be) may not be too useful. Wilderness in a sense may be regarded as a natural resource, yet it has required men to perceive it as such. Milliman (1962), among others, chooses to avoid this kind of definitional exercise and to concentrate on certain characteristics of resources that suggest relevant analytical techniques. Nevertheless, in passing, we may note two common distinctions that have become established. 1. Exhaustible and inexhaustible resources.--This distinc- tion seems to have pervaded early conservation thinking. no (NW-on..." Kai-.74 nix. ' 454 Essentially, the broad distinction is made between resources which can and cannot (or will not) be "used up.” This was mainly a physical concept which might broadly classify diamonds, oil, and coal as "exhaustible," and water, soil, and air as inexhaustible. Timber seems to have been considered ambivalently since its renewable characteristics were known, but the procliv- ity to "use” forests faster than they were replaced suggested exhaustibility. Upon further reflection, and the addition of the concept of economic depletion, both concepts within a relevant range of resource use seem to express degrees of the same thing and do not provide much of a basis for analysis. 2. Stock and flow resources.--Both Ciriacy—Wantrup and Heady have had some success in categorizing resource problems using "stock" and ”flow'l resource categories. Both categories require some special assumptions, nevertheless, to avoid the same criticism that has been applied to the distinction between exhaustible and inexhaustible resources. Stock resources, as defined by Ciriacy—Wantrup, are those whose total quantity (given, level of quality) does not increase significantly over time--significantly, in the sense that, like the formation of oil and coal, the economist could not consider such increase in a practical way. Thus, each rate of use is assumed to diminish some future use. Zero-use rate is considered 455 an economic problem and a function of the relative cost and revenue levels for the resource at various times. Two classes of stock resources are also recognized: (1) those like most metal ores which do not decrease without use, and (2) those like processed uranium, plant nutrients in agricultural soil and others which either by natural or technological progress deteriorate without use. Flow resources are those which are more or less contin- uously available; i.e., different units of this kind of resource become available in succeeding time intervals. Present flow does not reduce future flow. It is possible that perpetual use can be sustained. The critical point is the level of use which will stop the flow. Some flow resources such as water can be stored and the stored portion may or may not be treated as a stock resource. ”Critical zone" is a concept coined to signify that range of use rates for flow resources "below which a decrease in flow cannot be reversed economically under presently forseeable conditions" (Ciriacy-Wantrup, 1952). With these general ideas in mind, we may now glance at some economic choice concepts which deal with the allocation of such resources. Basically, it would seem that the "ordinary” techniques of production economics would suffice to analyze resource use, even natural resource use in a ”conservation" context. The same basic facts must be known: physical input- output relationships (production or transformation functions) 456 must be discovered; relevant cost and price data must be developed; and the economizing principle or logic of choice relevant to the ends sought must be applied to the physical and value relationships to determine resource use and product output levels. It is even possible to account for intertemporal physical and value responses to alternative actions using these analyses through estimates and discounting procedures. However, Ciriacy4Wantrup and Heady both lay special emphasis upon the intertemporal aspects of conservation and Heady offers a uniquely concise demonstration of some of the characteristics of dealing with this aSpect. His treatment is followed below. Figures 42 and 43 demonstrate the relationships between two time periods and the services available from nonstorable and storable flow resources and stock resources. In figure 42, if ON of resource services are produced in the present time period (T1) and cannot be stored, then only 0F (OF = ON) of resource services will be available in the future time period (T2). However, if resource services produced in the present can be stored, then they will (to the extent they do not deteriorate in storage) be available for use in the future. In figure 43 ON = OFl = FlFZ' ON amount of services are stored as F1F2 and used with OFl, the amount produced in T2 for a total service use possibility of OF2 in T2. Figure 44, on the other hand, demonstrates the general possibility for substituting resource use between time periods 457 N_i___ A J C) m____ N—i V Figure 42.--Intertemporal distribution of nonstorable flow resources . 458 N ~- ~———— A I\ I I I I I F. Figure 43.--Intertemporal distribution of storable flow resources . 459 Figure 44.-—Intertemporal distribution of resource services, stock resources. 460 with stock resources. ON = OF for expository purposes and the line NF is the locus of all points representing combinations of resource use in time periods T1 and T2. If OX were used in T1, then only OY would be left for use in T2, etc. At this point we may observe that wilderness once classi- fied takes on the characteristics of a flow resource. However, before classification and during the allocation process, it is customary to think of potential wilderness as a stock resource. This strongly reflects the prevailing concept of wilderness as land that once "developed” is lost forever. It is now necessary to impose value or consumption concepts on the production relationships in order to bring the two parts of the allocation process together. Heady uses the idea of a social indifference map to accomplish optimum intertemporal welfare allocation. In the case of nonstorable flow resources and products therefrom, there is little problem: The resources must be used as they become available or we simply forego their use. Inter- temporal preferences of society have no relevance here where the only remaining economic problem is simply the usual one of deciding how much to use in the current time period (equating marginal factor cost and marginal value product). Storable flow resources may be intertemporally allocated as demonstrated in figure 45. If the social preference curve is like IlYl (i.e., slope at point of tangency 45° or less) it will always specify use of the resource (all of it) as it 461 Figure 45.--Intertemporal distribution of storable flow resources under two different social preference conditions. 462 becomes available in the present time period. However, a point like P may be specified on the production possibility curve NAFl if the social preference curve has a slope at point of tangency of more than 45°. This social preference curve then merely expresses the rate at which society is willing to sub- stitute future for present use. Hence, if the future is dis- counted at all (no future unit of resource or consumption is worth as much as a unit of present resource used or consumed), no storage will be called for by this model. Intertemporal allocation of stock resources is demonstrated in figure 46. NF is again the intertemporal production possi- bility curve and 11:1 and I212 represent two alternative states of social preference. Again, if a social preference curve has a slope of 45° or less at the point of tangency, all of the stock resource must be used in the present time period (unless it can be demonstrated that the production possibility curve is concave toward the origin of the diagram). An interesting extension of this analysis is given by Heady, who notes that in some cases the attempt may be made to substitute flow resources for stock resources in current time periods in order to conserve the stock resource. However, his analysis suggests that unless a new community preference curve somehow arises after the attempted substitution, the same quantity of stock resources will be allocated to current produc- tion as before the change. 463 Figure 46.-«Intertemporal allocation of stock resources. Residual Comment This hurried excursion through some resource and welfare economics concepts has helped set the analytical stage for economics analysis in wilderness land allocation. Some students of these two areas may wonder if it has really helped very much, however. The reasons can be summed up by concluding statements and prescriptions offered by both Heady and Ciriacy-Wantrup. . Ciriacy-Wantrup (1952) has written that the "optimum state of conservation" is "that time distribution of use rates that maximizes the present value of the flow of (expected) net reve- nues." Yet, the practical matter of arriving at such a state moves him to strongly urge a "safe minimum level of use" as the more viable objective of resource policy. The "critical zone," if we know it, becomes a no-pass border. If we don't know it, lb: then we may build our uncertainty into conservative "maximum use" levels such as the sustained yield, annual allowable timber cut concept in forestry. Heady's concluding remarks also seem somewhat pessimistic (pp. 778-779): What, then, is the optimum level of conservation for an intergeneration society? Existing scientific logic can only state this: The optimum level of conservation is what each succeeding generation thinks it to be (includ- ing the relative value placed by the current generation on consumption for future generations). The values of discrete generations cannot be linked together ex ante into a single index for all time to give one level of conservation into eternity. In this vein, the level of conservation which is ideal or optimum changes with the values of each succeeding generation. If today's genera- tion chooses to be spendthrift and squander resources at the expense of consumption by future generations, the .~ - 2:5. x” "' l":'— ' 465 level of conservation expressed is the optimum at the time and through eternity as far as can be determined by existing tools of science. If tomorrow's generation chooses to be miserly, merely subsiste, and hoard re- sources which are then used for luxury consumption by a succeeding generation, existing economic tools would specify that the level of conservation is optimum and that welfare has been maximized. Heady (and Ciriacy-Wantrup) would seem to agree neverthe- less with Rothenberg's plea for shredding the curtain of community ignorance regarding the consequences of alternative allocation decisions. While it may be true that we cannot systematically describe the decision making processes of our welfare allocating institutions, it is plausible to assume that both the decision makers and the "community" can better assess possible impacts of potential changes with more complete knowl- edge. It also seems plausible to assume that the employment of explicit welfare criteria and systematic analytical procedures, such as those explored above, will enhance general understanding of difficult decision making processes. Outdoor Recreation Valuation Technigues With the foregoing ideas in mind, we may now turn a more critical eye toward two areas of applied economics with a View toward extracting useful methodologies for objectifying relevant aspects of wilderness allocation decision making. In this section we will examine some economic valuation methodologies proposed for outdoor recreation analysis. This will be followed by an examination of economics choice mechanisms which might employ such values. 466 Pitfalls and Detours It will help in assessing the usefulness of proposed quantifying techniques to recognize some "usefulness criteria": 1. Commensurability.——This refers to the comparability of measured facts. Forest economists are particularly sensitive to the insensitivity of some analysts in this regard. Far too frequently calculations are made comparing timber stumpage values with the expenditures of tourists in particular areas on the assumption that somehow these are comparable values and suitable for cost-benefit analysis. This is, in effect, like comparing the value of a finished house with the stumpage value of the wood that went into the house. A general criterion that is suggested, therefore, is that values compared should be taken from as near the same point in the distribution process as possible (e.g., on the watershed or at the end product consumer level). Accuracy.--This is somewhat related to the above concept of commensurability. However, the emphasis here is on the avoidance of spurious accuracy and the avoidance of costly data gathering techniques when they are really not necessary. A full-fledged interindustry relations study may yield the most precision about community impacts of alternative resource development programs. However, this is a relatively costly approach and the answers obtained from some rough basic-nonbasic ratios 467 based upon published census data may be adequate for the decisions that are to be made. 3. Relevance.-—This refers to the need to specify objec- tives or purposes of quantifying consequences of alterna- tive programs. An economist has not gone full circle in his calling if he has never had the distinct at-sea feeling which follows a request to provide the "boss" with a picture of the economic importance of the butter tub industry in Smithville. Furthermore, he is asked, what would be the ”impact" on Smithville if a new ski resort were established at Thunder Mountain? Most such measures (e.g., employment, value added, payrolls, etc.) need to be qualified in terms of incidence. It is one thing to measure the full economic impact of alternative programs; but it is another to specify who benefits where and who incurs costs. It is important in this regard to keep in mind the distinction between mere distributive effects and the economic growth effects of alternative programs with respect to par— ticular areas. Even in a local economy characterized by less than full employment, new industry is no assurance of economic growth. Surveys of Methodologies Outdoor recreation has proven a particular challenge to economists because the allocation problems associated with it require some consideration in an explicit way of so-called 468 "extra-market" or "intangible" values. The challenge has been answered by various attempts to bring these intangibles into relation, somehow, with the measuring rod of money. Several methods for doing this have been proposed and these have been duly examined by critics. Some of these surveys over the past decade or so are reviewed here for the insights they give in categorizing the several methodologies which will be examined below. / ‘ ” Some general sources are in the growing number of bibliog- raphies dealing wholly or in part with outdoor recreation economics. Included are those by Kipp (1959), Crampon (1960), ORRRC Study Report 27 (Librarian of Congress, 1962), and a preliminary listing of references dealing with outdoor recrea- tion demand compiled by the Bureau of Outdoor Recreationallé/ The Prewitt (1949) report of an attempt to discover a method for evaluating National Park recreation is a modern landmark, not so much for its conclusions, but for the comments elicited from leading economists throughout the Nation. Out- standing in this regard was the proposal by Professor Harold Hotelling for using the concentric travel zone-consumer surplus method. This has since become the core concept for major em- pirical studies in outdoor recreation economics. Professor 419/ "References Pertinent to Demand for Recreation," preliminary list, May 15, 1964. 10 pp., typewritten. 7 _‘~.‘;.__....‘ ‘ "WI ‘2;4;;.»"‘ 1.,— 315‘ E“:?“" m " L ”73‘“. 469 Howard Ellis suggested at the same time another important technique: discriminating monopolist pricing. 'Marion Clawson's (1959) review of economic methodologies in outdoor recreation is now a modern classic. His statement also offered the customary rationale for attempting economic evaluation of outdoor recreation: (1) such values would be immeasurably useful in resource allocation problems; (2) the mere existence of important intangible values associated with recreation should not preclude the attempt to find the economic ones since all goods and services yield intangible values; (3) theoretical reasons suggest it is possible to bring some part of these values into relation with the measuring rod of money. He critiqued four alternative methodologies: (1) gross volume of business approach; (2) the value-added approach; (3) economic demand analysis in the strict sense of schedules of users and alternative prices; and (4) the use of the concept of consumer's surplus as a measure of value. He subsequently recommended use of estimates of visitors per unit of population density grouped by travel distance-cost zones as a basis for estimating economic demand schedules and potential fee schedules for particular sites. A different kind of review was given by Milstein (1961) who emphasized the need for more purposiveness and more coordi- nated attacks by economists on outdoor recreation. He noted that most research in this area up to the time of writing had been "almost entirely problem-oriented, empirical, and largely 470 under the auspices of land economists and government or uni- versity market researchers." He argued for more rigorous analysis and the testing of formal models of economic behavior in outdoor recreation. Regan (1961) tried to classify and pull together all extant methodologies for the Soil Conservation Service and listed eight: (1) user expenditures, (2) production alternatives of leisure time, (3) admittance fees and user charges, (4) estimated demand schedules, (5) alternative costs, (6) comparative appraisals, (7) administrative determination of recreational values, and (8) partial measures of recreation values. His general observation was that none appeared too satisfactory, although the user-fee base and demand schedule approach were the most promising. Lerner (1962) has listed seven measures of estimated recreation values: (1) expenditures, (2) gross national product, (3) consumer’s surplus, (4) cost of providing facility, (5) market values or fees, (6) monopoly revenue, and (7) dis- criminating monopoly revenue. He favors the values derived using discriminating monopoly concepts. A recent Ph. D. thesis by Carey may also be citedhlll/ His lZZ/ Carey, Omer L. The application of economic criteria for Government investment in National Parks--the Dinosaur National Monument controversy. 226 pp., illus. 1962. (Un- published Ph. D. diss., on file at Univ. Ind., Bloomington.) 471 review and categorization generally parallels Clawson’s (supra) and concludes that Clawson's approach to demand curve construc- tion does not satisfactorily handle the problem of nonhomogeneity of visitors. Hence, he proposes that we simply do the best we can in evaluating opportunity costs. Another recent Ph. D. thesis by DavisylZ§/ should also be noted. He identifies three general methods, one of which may be called the "spatial-differentiation-of-market" methodlzgl which includes the Hotelling and Clawson methods noted above, as well as two variants of the same general procedure. These are described as the Trice—WOOd and Evans—Van Doren procedures after the authors of articles describing them (Trice and wood, 1958; and Evans and Van Doren, 1960). Two other major methods noted by Davis are termed: (1) Bureau of the Budget consultant's method, a multivariate simulation of the market for recreation areas; and (2) alternative cost method, or the cost of providing the same service by the cheapest alternative means. He finds all of these unsatisfactory and attempts a frontal assault on the recreationist himself by means of a questionnaire-type bidding game to approximately a "true" or "free" market value. llg/ Davis, Robert Kenneth. The value of outdoor recrea- tion: An economic study of the Maine woods. 152 pp., illus. 1963. (Unpublished Ph. D. thesis, on file at Harvard Univ., Cambridge.) 112/ My terminology. 472 Other surveys, such as those by Crutchfield (1962), ORRRC Study Report 3, and Merriam (1963), may be found of course, but the above seem to span most of the range of methodologies thus far proposed for valuing outdoor recreation. The author's own scheme of categorizing methodologies is still somewhat different. The categories which will be briefly discussed below are termed: 1. Location or spatial differentiation models. 2. Precedental valuation. 3. Market value analysis. 4. User expenditures. 5. Cost analysis. 6. National income and product accounting. 7. Economic base-type analyses. Location or Spatial Differentiation Analysis As Ullman and Volk (1962) point out, this method has antecedents stretching back as far as von Thunen in 1826. The several variants of it in outdoor recreation economics may be termed (l) Hotelling, (2) Clawson, (3) Trice-Wood, (4) Evans- Van Doren, and (5) Ullman-Volk, after the authors cited above. Only three of these—-the Trice-Wood, the Clawson, and the Ullman-Volk—-will be dealt with here. Trice—Wood.——This procedure is the least sophisticated of the three. Its objective is to measure the "primary" benefit of a proposed recreation site to the user-~a value which will represent the intangible value of the enjoyment to the user. .—- ‘54-.— \ ._ 473 It is the author's contention that this objective gets this method started with at least two strikes against it. There is probably no good or service which is really valued at its "intangible worth” to the consumer. A more appropriate objec- tive would seem to be an economic value which (1) allows similar alternatives to be ranked and/or (2) which is comparable to values attached to alternative kinds of proposals. This procedure begins by identifying concentric round-trip travel cost zones about the proposed recreation site. The maximum cost perimeter or "bulk-line market value" is then de- termined, based on the maximum travel cost incurred by expected visitors (presumably those farthest away). On the assumption that all visitors derive approximately similar satisfactions "market price" estimate. from the experience, this becomes the Average travel cost, as well as the expected number of visitors, is then estimated for each zone. An estimate of average consumer‘s surplus for the zone is then obtained by subtracting the average zone cost from the market price. A total consumer surplus is then obtained by multiplying each zone's average consumer surplus by expected visitors and summing these products for all zones. This is then divided by the total number of visitor days to get an average visitor-day value which is used in evaluating both the feasibility of the site and determining priorities among sites. The actual study procedure used by the authors differed somewhat, but not in principle. It should also be noted that the authors use only that amount of round—trip cost which is 474 proportional to the time actually spent on the study area. Clawson.--Even though the Trice-Wbod method has been used in principle in a major planning effort in the State of California, the Clawson method represents a more or less composite standard for this idea. Its objective is twofold: (1) develop a basis for estimating visitations to potential facilities, (2) develop some estimate of an economic demand function, which can be used for various purposes. This procedure is conducted in two stages. The first stage requires compiling data for the "total recreation experience" from records of visitation and cost of visitation for sites similar to the proposed site. Distance zones are established based on the origins of the visitors. Average one-way distance for each zone is then estimated. The important data, however, are number of visitors per 100,000 population,l§9/ number of days per visit, and an estimated cost per visit.l§l/ Average data for each distance zone are then tabulated. Graphical dis- play of this data is also helpful, plotting cost per visit over number of visits per 100,000 population. The second stage of this method is to use the results of l§9/ This is simply a procedure to reflect population density of potential visitor supply areas. Presumably, the size of the denominator in this ratio should be of a size to facilitate calculations for the area studied. l§l/ Computed in Clawson's (1959) example as $9.00 per day (which was reported cost, less transportation of $8.47); plus 10 cents per mile for a car for double one-way distance, divided by 4, assuming 4 passengers per car. __ l 475 the first stage to estimate an economic demand curve. By assuming that first stage data really represent the willingness to pay of the potential visitors to the new site, simple arithmetical estimates from this original data allow us to estimate visitation response to a fee schedule or, in turn, to determine an appropriate site revenue figure which can be capitalized to obtain a site value. Clawson himself notes the difficulties of the method (e.g., the static nature of the estimates; the confounded effect of distance, time and cost; the need to account for the influ- ence of substitute or alternative sites; income variability; etc.), and these are in turn noted by Knetsch (1963), who makes recommendations for their explicit incorporation in functional analyses. Ullman-Volk.--This variant was developed as a tool for estimating attendance at a potential multiple purpose reservoir as well as economic benefits therefrom south of St. Louis. From records of attendance at impoundments within the influence zone of St. Louis, and in the same general territory as the proposed development (with some thought also given to comparable experi- ence qualities), regressions of an attendance indexlgg/ on l§2/ Number of visitors to a studied site were recorded according to county of origin, and the total was divided by the average county population for the 1950-60 period. These were adjusted to reflect length of stay. The ultimate unit of measurement or "index" was visitor-days per capita per year. 476 distance were computed. The sharp decline in attendance as distance increased was considered reflective of the alternative choices open to visitors in the area. This study also made separate regressions for high income urban counties, low income rural counties, and for the St. Louis area itself. The results of this analysis allow estimates to be made for attendance at the proposed reservoir by stratifying population around the site into distance zones and multiplying the population of each zone by appropriate per capita visitation factors. Benefit calculations were based on travel cost savings accruing to estimates of the proportion of St. Louis visitors who would be diverted to the new facility from more remote facilities. As the authors point out, this is probably a conservative measure, It does not account for generated traffic or measure what consumers would actually spend to visit the site. Nor does it attempt to reflect any loss of revenue at competing impoundments in the first few years after construction of the new facility. Alternative estimates of annual benefits are then capitalized as an estimate of the value of the proposed reservoir for recreation. Critigue.--This method-~or general method c1ass--represents a step forward in the measurement of the economic consequences, in a benefit sense, of outdoor recreation. It has much to recommend it, namely, its relatively simple approach and its ability to use relatively easy to obtain data. With some judg- ment used in its application, it should be useful in many instances. 477 Some problems are evident, of course. A major one is acceptance of the rather rough and ready nature of its assump- tions. Can we really infer a demand function in the strict economic sense from the visitation and cost data compiled by this method? We seem to lack a good deal of the homogeneity of product required due to the uniqueness of each potential site evaluated. Furthermore, we do not generally have available very accurate visitation or cost data. More important, for the present kind of problem—-wilderness allocation—-this kind of approach seems questionable. One reason is that the kind of value which results is not strictly comparable to the kinds of values which are relevant in the wilderness context. These are largely timber stumpage values and all secondary values associated with the harvesting, processing, and distribution of timber products. Furthermore, the relative uniqueness of each Wilderness Area would militate even more against accepting the assumptions underlying the data gathering mechanism. Another reason is that until fees are charged for wilderness use, we are not likely to be too interested in maximizing total revenues or predicting the impact on use of alternative entrance fees. Finally, and perhaps most crucial, is the fact that these methods wash together in a broad, almost meaningless average the values attached to a polyglot of wilderness activities;p i.e., those for fishing, hunting, hiking, etc. There is no single homogeneous product which represents the wilderness experience. 478 In all fairness, of course, the countervailing argument to the last point is as Crutchfield (1962) points out, if We only want such an average, then perhaps this method is meritorious. Precedental Valuation Dana (1957), among others, has cited another method pro— posed earlier by Atkinson and Vaux of the University of California. This procedure relies upon measures of opportunity cost. The measured unit is the "value" of a man-day of recreational use. This is computed by dividing the value of a given forest property used for timber production by its recrea- tional use in man-days per year. A number of these calcula- tions are made in areas which are currently devoted to timber production and in areas currently devoted to recreation; e.g., classified Wilderness Areas. The assumption is made that the areas for which these values are computed are devoted to their highest and best use. These values are then viewed as the value of timber production foregone if each of the areas had been used exclusively for recreation. The range of values which were calculated for those areas devoted to recreation use would be presumed to indicate the permissible values which society would forego in timber production in order to have exclusive recreation areas. Any potential site that fell within these values would be a likely candidate for designa- tion for recreation purposes. This method also presents severe problems. For one thing, the presumption must be that the recreation-area range of values 479 must be lower than the timber—area range. Yet this is fre- quently not the case for high—valued timber sites have been allocated to recreation. Another aspect of the method that makes it difficult to accept is its general ignorance of uniqueness of sites, es- pecially with respect to wilderness. It would be a mistake to use a method which merely sanctifies past choice in the face of the new set of circumstances surrounding a new classification case. Yet, such past choice may provide some guidance in assessing differences between cases. Market Value Analysis Even though Clawson's method attempts to arrive at an approximation of a kind of market value, three significantly different methods can be noted. Market survey.--Carey,l§§/ Clawson (1959), and others have made note of this procedure which is simply to survey the market and discover what others are charging for this kind of service. This, of course, is fine when a market for this kind of service exists. However, and especially in the case of wilder- ness, this kind of market does not usually exist. Experimental analysis.--Dana (1957) has cited a proposal by the Wildland Use Committee of the Michigan Lower Peninsula Forest Research Council. The objective is to derive empirically l§§/ Op. cit. 480 an economic demand schedule through experimentation with a schedule of alternative fee levels in a particular place for a particular activity; e.g., fishing on a selected trout stream. This too suggests problems, such as maintaining a particular fishing quality in terms, perhaps, of probability of catching so many fish by an average fisherman. Another would be to "insulate" the experiment from competing attractions long enough to obtain a fair appraisal of the economic conformation of the tested opportunity. While this too has merit in determining possible fee schedules and estimating visitation at alternative fees, it seems to have little relevance in the current wilderness context. Artificial preference expression.—-Davis,l§£/ as noted above, used personal interview techniques to obtain an expression from recreationists of their willingness to pay. The crux of the interview consisted of having the users indicate how their decisions would be affected if their costs associated with using the area increased by selected amounts. He was concerned only with whether the change in use would be +, -, or 0. Additional probing to obtain increments of change was considered potentially harmful to the entire interview. A high degree of recreationist rationality and knowledge of preferences was assumed. It was also assumed that consumers had already gone through a series of choices among alternative léfl/ 0p. cit. 481 expenditures just to get to the site; hence, they were ready for continuing their resource allocation decision making. A discontinuous demand curve was imputed to the individual householder. This meant simply that over a broad price range from zero to some specified amount, the quantity of recreation experience consumed would be constant. Above the specified price or cost the particular experience would-be foregone. By identifying this cutoff point for all users for the particu— lar site, an aggregate demand curve was computed. For various reasons, wilderness is not allocated even.g§ if ;p_were a free market good. It is a collective good to which all are granted free access and from.which all may take some benefit even though they may not consume the "good." Thus, no market price in the strict sense encountered in these methods seems appropriate. Furthermore, such values do not seem exactly comparable with the values with which they must be compared. User Expenditures This brings us to perhaps one of the most maligned, but yet one of the most trail weary methods used in objectifying the economic aspects of outdoor recreation. It is an open question whether there really is glmethod for measuring user costs or expenditures. However, the basic idea seems to be that these measures of the expenditures of recreationists provide at least a minimum value in the market economy of the worth of the recreation activity. The number of such studies measuring this worth is legion. 482 A word must be said in defense of such measures. These data do have considerable political attraction and are useful in many ways to those who know how to use them. Furthermore, they do reflect economic activity and may serve as some sort of economic index to knowledgeable persons. They are useful indi- cators of patterns of expenditures as well and provide the raw data for more specialized kinds of analyses such as those deal— ing with regional product and income. The real problem with such gross expenditure data lies in their interpretation. What do they really mean? There are many points which must be covered to provide a framework for answer- ing this question. Only a few of these are discussed here. First, gross expenditures of recreationists do not mean the value which may be attributable to, say, recreation. In one sense they are incomplete for they will generally not measure the full cost of providing the experience if "free" public lands or services have been employed. Even license fees gen- erally understate the cost of Government services in this area. Of course, were it possible to allocate a "fair" share of the recreationist's tax dollar to his recreation expenditure a closer measure of "attributable to” might result. Furthermore, the total expenditure for goods and services used by the recreationist may or may not be fairly attributed to the recreation experience, depending upon the evaluative frame of reference. If one is merely measuring the impact of what has happened, then he may say that because the recreationist 483 spent so many dollars on these goods and services he must have desired this experience more than some others on which he could have expended the same amount of money. By inference, then, we may attribute that expenditure and all of its concomitant measures, such as income and employment, to recreation in this instance. However, if it is inferred that this expenditure and its concomitant measures would disappear in the absence of the recreation opportunity, then a technical blunder has been committed. The same resources presumably would have been turned in another direction and their use attributed to something else again. This, at least, is the proper view to take in a fully employed, closed economy. If, however, we are concerned only with these expenditures in a local, open, less-than-full-employment economy, another view is appropriate. Again, we may account for all recreation expenditures in the local area. However, the "impact" attribut- able to these recreation expenditures will very likely be less than that which could be measured in a closed economy since some of these expenditures will be "exported" to producers of the goods and services purchased who are located elsewhere. The degree of openness and the pattern of interindustry relation— ships within the local economy and between the local economy and elsewhere will determine this impact and the amount of these expenditures "capturable" locally. Another problem with such data, of course, is that they will reflect values which will also be "attributable" to other 484 sectors of the economy. How, for example, will it be practically possible without detailed surveys to separate expenditures at motels, drugstores, grocery stores, gasoline stations, etc., of tourists, local residents, traveling salesmen, general travelers, etc.? The local or regional timber industry, for example, might also claim part of these local expenditures. Perhaps the "best" measure which can be derived from such data is the net increment attributable to any activity, such as recreation, when this is a new or "just lost" activity. To the extent that no other major changes occur, it may be precise to attribute measured changes in payrolls, employment, retail and wholesale sales, etc. to the readjustment of the economy to this change. This in turn begins to have real welfare implications. This kind of measure, properly interpreted, begins also to have meaning for the wilderness allocation process. Cost Analysis Several have proposed that the costs of providing the par- ticular experience be used as an index of the value of the experience. This theme is inherent in two of the above classes of methodologies. As another example, Lerner (1962, p. 65) quotes the former National Park Service method: The Service holds that, provided a proposed reservoir would not destroy more important conservational and recreational values, expected benefits resulting from (1) the construction of a reservoir and (2) from full development of the needed recreational facilities would be greater than specific costs of developing, operating, and maintaining these facilities. A reasonable esti- mate of the benefits arising from the reservoir itself 485 may be normally considered as an amount equal to the specific costs of developing, operating, and maintain- ing the recommended facilities. This procedure, of course, offers no guide whatsoever. A method called the "alternative cost" method is cited by Lerner (1962) and Davisléé/ and is essentially what was termed the "market survey" method above. This values recreation at the cost of providing comparable output by the least cost al- ternative. Net user benefits turn out to be approximated by the savings in travel cost to the next nearest closely similar alternative and thus like those in the Ullman-Volk method. Merriam's (1963) benefit—cost analysis for the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area in Montana reflects this thinking as well, since it is assumed that annual benefits to the wilderness users were worth at least the annual Forest Service and Montana Fish and Game Department administrative costs. Benefits to users were also assumed to be as great again as "associated user costs" (supplies, packer services, etc.). This, of course, will always give a B-C ratio of more than 1. Measurement of opportunity cost, as in the "precedental valuation" method above is often recommended as a measure of minimum economic value for recreation. Such costs need to be measured, of course; but they are only part of the costs to be considered. In the case of wilderness, two kinds of costs do seem rele— vant: (l) opportunity costs in terms of commercial values l§§/ Op. cit. 486 (e.g., timber, recreation, etc.), if any, foregone; and (2) ad- ministrative and maintenance costs of the Forest Service and other agencies with administrative duties. To a degree, of course, these costs will be offset by some commercial values attributable to such areas, such as those attributable to various recreation activities, mining, grazing, and perhaps to reduction in water treatment costs downstream if it could be shown that water quality would be impaired by development. In any event, it seems inappropriate, or at least not helpful, to allow such net costs (if indeed such is the case) to repre- sent wilderness recreation value in this allocation process. National Income and Product Accounting At this point, it may be well to recall that the previous methodologies have all been seeking a kind of personalized expression of demand on the part of the recreationist. These, with the exception of the gross expenditures method, have in essence been seeking a "price" which would be paid by the recreationist for Specific opportunities if he were given an opportunity to pay. Two other methods which attempt the same thing but which were not mentioned above are the "monopolist method" and the ”discriminating monopolist method." In the first instance, a single price is sought which maximizes the net revenue of a hypothetical monopolist and this becomes a measure of the recreation benefit. The discriminating monopolist, on the other hand, charges what the traffic will bear by setting a separate 487 profit maximizing price in every market. In effect, for a given recreation site, this means measuring total consumer's surplus and counting this as benefits. These were not considered sufficiently distinct or useful in this study to warrant ex— panded discussion. It is agreed that such measures are certainly useful for setting fee schedules, estimating volume of use in a static sense, and, to a degree, making comparisons with other resource uses. However, it is argued here that such measures invite enough questions and suffer enough defect-~principally arti- ficiality and an insecure relationship to welfare-—to suggest a need to explore other methodologies. Furthermore, the history of wilderness allocation suggests that other kinds of economic values have more relevance for the particular decision making process that is employed in such cases. One way, somewhat similar to but more analytical than the gross expenditures method, of measuring the economic con- sequences of alternative activities is by means of income measurement. This method was recommended in general by Prewitt (1949), but it has not received much favor since from those concerned with recreation evaluation because it is not directly related to the consumer of the recreation experience and is thus not a ”direct" indicator of the benefit received. It does, however, measure the overall economic consequences of what has actually taken place as a reSult of consumer expendi- tures and does seem to lend itself in limited respects to welfare judgments. 488 National, regional, and more local product and income accounting is the subject of considerable literature~-and confusion--in its own right. Its explicit use in forestry seems to have been limited to a small number of studies by James and Duerr (1951), James and Yoho (1953), Paley,l§§/ Kearns,l§1/ and Hughes and James (1963). The basic concept is relatively simple and is taken from the double-entry notion of accounting that what is an expenditure to one person is mainly a receipt or income to another. By making certain deductions (principally indirect taxes and capital consumption allowances) from the total value of all goods and services sold in a given time period (usually annually), we can arrive at an estimate of total wages, interests, rents, and profits (hence, income pay- ments to individuals eventually) attributable to these expendi— tures. These are generally understandable concepts, and, to the extent that expenditures—-and their derived income measures-- from alternative resource activities are separable and attributable, such measures provide means of comparing resource uses. It has been argued that this concept is devoid of any welfare idea and that it could not be used to determine project l§§j Paley, Marshall N. A proposed technique for measuring and comparing the economic importance of timber and wildland recreation in Michigan. 118 pp., illus. 1956. (Unpublished Ph. D. thesis on file at Michigan State Univ., East Lansing.) l§1j Kearns, Frank. An economic appraisal of the state forests of Michigan. 191 pp., illus. 1961. (Unpublished Ph. D. thesis on file at Michigan State Univ., East Lansing.) 489 ranking or desirable levels of investment (Forecasts and Economics Group, 1962). It can be argued, nevertheless, that for any locale or economy in which an income increase in this sense is noted, an increase in welfare may also be inferred. This would follow from the application of a kind of Kaldor- Bergson welfare criterion. While there may have been some "losers” as a result of the change which occurred, there has been a net gain insofar as we can determine. Society at large has been more than compensated for any losses sustained in the new resource combination circumstances which have resulted in the new income levels. It is true, of course, that this is a rather blind pronouncement since it does not consider hgy_the income has been distributed. Nevertheless, it seems plausible to use, as one welfare measure, changes in net income attribu- table to alternative programs of resource use, on the assumption that within rather wide limits the resulting possible income distribution is one that is permitted and encouraged in various ways by society. As with exPenditures, accounting for and interpreting income measures present problems. Isard (1960) provides a relevant discussion of these. One of these relates to whether we are concerned only with income produced as a result of the specified activity in the local area, or with the incidence of the income produced. Depending upon the openness of the economy, the income attributable to the activity may travel widely. 'Without detailed study of the structure of the local 490 or regional economy and its relationship to other areas, this may be impossible to determine. Other data problems are also suggested in dealing with less than national or state levels of economies. Yet, the report by Kearns, James, Smith, and Pfeiffer (1962), based on Kearns' thesis,l§§/ illustrates how such problems, at least on the state level, may be overcome. Assuming appropriate data can be obtained, this method seems to have at least two features that recommend it for wilderness analysis: (1) alternative land use activities are placed on comparable dollar value scales, and (2) this kind of measure approaches the kind of data which seems to have great currency in wilderness discussions. Economic Base-Type Analysis Economic base-type analysis here means essentially that kind of study (like input-output or interindustry relations studies) which seeks to reveal in rather precise or explicit ways the "economic physiology" of a given area. This is taken to mean, among other things, the measurement of income and em- ployment "multipliers" which characterize the local economy. In view of the emphasis of wilderness argument upon such "impact" measures as direct and indirect job and payroll effects of changes in resource programs, this kind of analysis seems highly relevant. l§§f Ibid. 491 Economic base studies.--The simplest kind of economic base study is just that: an economic base study. Tiebout's (1962) discussion summarizes the salient characteristics.l§2/ In his words (p. 13): An economic base study identifies the key economic activities of the community. Base studies begin by defining the community to be studied: a municipality, county, metropolitan area, marketing area, or some other geographic unit. Next...economic base studies divide the local economy into two segments: (1) firms and individuals serving markets outside the community; and (2) firms and individuals serving markets within the community. Exports are those goods and services produced for sale outside the studied area, and imports those sold within the area. Because export production is considered the "prime mover" (in the sense that measures of local economic activity tend to rise and fall with changes in export sales) of the local economy, export activities are called "basic.” Local market-servicing activity is thus called "nonbasic.” When a firm sells to both local and outside markets, its employment may be divided on some basis between basic and nonbasic categories. It is usually assumed that the ratio of basic-nonbasic measures, such as employment, remains fairly stable, a facilitating but often disquieting assumption for projection purposes. Determination of the size of local area for analysis and appropriate subdivisions of the basic and nonbasic sectors of l§2/ The bibliographies and footnotes in Isard (1960), Palmer (1958), and Gray (1962) seem to cover much of this literature. 492 the local economy are two important preliminary decisions to make. Economic base studies, like interindustry relations studies, can cost a great deal of money and this varies directly with size of area and sectoral detail of analysis. A realistic view of the range of impact both geographically and intra- sectorally should thus be taken in such cases as those involving wilderness land use alternatives. A survey of available data on the local economy and the apparent value of the need for precise data will help determine the size of job in prOSpect. Tiebout (1962) suggests a number of alternative procedural approaches which vary in detail and cost and which help deter- mine how large a study is necessary. In addition to the basic-nonbasic distinctions, an economic base study can reveal, within each sector, the "direct" and ”indirect" impacts of changes in the economic life of a community. Direct linkages to the export or basic sector refer to those measures directly associated with the export distribution; e.g., the production of plywood for sale to a nationwide market. Log production, electric power, and all other locally (or nonlocally) procured supplies and services for the plywood mill would be indirect. It can be noted that should the effect of wilderness classification be to remove some or all of the plywood mill's potential source of logs, impact measurement will still require the data developed in an economic base study. However, analysis will be complicated since it will be necessary to determine the impact of increased (presumably) log procurement 493 costs on the mill and the resultant impacts this might have on the community should mill operating rates change, as well as the direct and indirect impacts of a potential reduction in log production employment. Perhaps one of the most revealing (and attractive) aspects of economic base studies is that dealing with the so—called "multiplier effects” in the local consumption sector. Suppose income accruing to local residents (e.g., wages, salaries, profits, rents) is the selected impact measure. A ”first round" of community income is obtained from sales in the export sector. This income to local residents is then ”respent" or reallocated to (l) purchases within the local economy, (2) purchases outside the local economy, and (3) perhaps ”saved," allocated to taxes, or at any rate not respent in the usual sense.129/ It is customary to assume for expository purposes that about 50 cents out of the dollar of first round income is respent locally, with the other 50 cents "leaking” out of local consumption channels. We may also assume that all residents of the community have this same local consumption propensity of 50 cents out of every dollar of income. It is then of interest to see the extent to which this original 50 cents circulates in the local economy as income to local residents. This 50 cents becomes receipts 429] This point has considerable relevance for longrun analyses in which the propensity to save becomes the basis for investment, greater income multipliers, and economic growth. 494 for sales by local merchants, etc. At this level,lgl/ a large share of this 50 cents must be respent by the businessman receiv- ing it for his expenses (e.g., the importing of the material sold, utilities, etc.) and only a portion, let us assume 40 percent or 20 cents, is allocated directly to income (e.g., his own salary and profit as well as wages of employees). We may also aSSume for illustrative purposes that the 40 percent ”income propensity of the local sales dollar" is also stable. At this stage in the continuing round of respending, the original dollar of income has now been credited with an additional 20 cents of local income. As this 20 cents of local income is respent, 10 cents leaks out and 4 cents remains as local income within the local economy, etc. To the extent that these pro- pensities to consume locally are stable, a multiplier formula based on an infinite geometric progressionlgg/ gives us a total income increase of $1.25 for every dollar of "new“ income in- troduced into the local economy. Tiebout expresses the formula this way: 421] It is at this level of measuring interindustry rela- tionships that the input-output or interindustry relations study departs for deeper waters than the customary economic base study. A key characteristic of the I-0 study is its development of the pattern of expenditures by each industry to other industries and purposes, such as wages and salaries. 123] l + r + r2 + r3 + ... + rn + ... = _1_, where r in this 1-r case is (.5 x.4) or .2 Total income increase = $1.00 x 1 1—(.5 x .4) = §1 = $1.25 .8 495 l l-(pr0pensity to increase in (export consume locally Total income increase = plus local x x income created investment income) per dollar of local consumption sales.) Longer-run analyses should strive to make changes in the amount of local savings or investment explicit. This is done by incorporating local investment propensities and measures of the income created by local investment sales in the denominator of the progression formula so that the total income multiplier formula might be expressed as follows: 1 (propensity to consume locally x income created per dollar of local increase in consumption sales) + Total income increase = x export income (propensity to invest locally x income created per dollar of local investment sales) In fact, a number of different propensities may be introduced in the same manner to more precisely account for longrun changes. 496 Interindustry relations study.--Perhaps the ultimate conceptual and empirical framework for presenting an instan- taneous picture of the relationships between industries, sectors, and regions is the interindustry relations study, sometimes called the input-output study. This kind of study is an empirical descendant of attempts in the 1870's to depict the structure of an economy and has been employed with increasing frequency since World War II. Evans and Hoffenberg (1952) describe the massive interindustry relations study of the U.S. economy conducted by the Bureau of Labor Statistics in the late 1940's. Isard (1960), among others, provides numerous relevant references. A series of studies by the University of Wyoming (Lund, 1962a and 1962b; Harmston, 1962; and Harmston and Lund, 1963) pro— vides recent examples of this kind of work. The University of Wyoming work was also recently applied in a study of the pro- posed Canyonlands National Park in Utah (Edminster and Harline, 1962). The 1956 master's report by McKenzielgl/ appears to be the only attempt to impose such a framework upon the forestry field. The interindustry relations study is characterized by a series of tabular displays of data showing: (1) sales to and purchases from each sector and/or industry, including exports, 122] McKenzie, Thomas Allen. An input—output classifica- tion of forest production. 65 pp., illus. 1956. (Unpublished M. F. report on file at N.Y. State Col. of Forestry, Syracuse.) 497 of the studied economy; (2) coefficients describing these relationships; and (3) by mathematical inversion of the previous set of coefficients, coefficients describing the total amount of economic activity in each sector (industry) to sustain a dollar's worth of final demand or export. The construction of these tables and coefficients is described in detail elsewhere. Some of the results of this analysis are similar to those obtained from the use of economic base studies, e.g., income and business multipliers. However, this kind of study tends to be much more detailed in terms of disaggregated industrial segments of the economy so that impacts of changes may be more clearly understood. This framework has many critics, nevertheless. One princi- pal criticism is its dependence upon fixed production or tech- nological coefficients in the endogenous or local sector of transactions analysis. This is, of course, a necessary condi- tion for the particular instantaneous type model dealt with. However, forecasting changes in such coefficients, frequent updating of data, and the development of explicit exogenous sectors (e.g. capital consumption, households, exports, etc.) to account for major changes in final demand can help alleviate this problem. Another troublesome item is gathering data for the initial transactions table. This can be both time consuming and costly if detailed questionnaire surveys of the studied area are required. 498 Although it may not be possible—-or warranted--in many cases to perform detailed interindustry relations studies, such a study framework provides a basic qualitative way to discuss potential economic impacts in the face of alternative resource programs. It is this that particularly recommends this method to a discussion of wilderness allocation. Again, however, when we deal with resource supply impacts, as in the wilderness issue, our analysis is made somewhat more difficult than if we were concerned solely with final demand impacts. Economics Choice Mechanisms The above discussion of valuation techniques might be referred to as an economics smorgasbord to which the land manager may come and choose at his discretion. Up to this point, it has not been possible to make any definite recommenda- tions, for no solid measurement criteria have been provided either by the land managers or the interested public in the matter of wilderness land allocation. We are tempted to guess that the ”impact” measures represented by the income, economic base, and interindustry relations analyses would be most rele- vant. However, such guesses may not be warranted. It seems helpful at this point to demonstrate to the land manager some alternative economics choice mechanisms that employ some of the values that might be measured. These will show how the general logic of choice of economics operates in some explicit ways and perhaps give a better idea which valuation 499 techniques might be chosen. Because there is a great deal of literature pertaining to each method discussed, the brief out- lining below may not do justice to many fine points. However, the brevity should not prevent some understanding of what is portrayed. Benefit-Cost Analysis It can be argued that most economics analysis is really benefit-cost analysis subject to alternative objectives. Nevertheless, a specific kind of analysis termed benefit—cost analysis, largely American in origin (Hammond, 1959), has grown up principally in the area of water resource project evalua- tion. In principle, it is a simple ratio expression with no built-in criteria for optimum allocation of resources. Its simplest expression is, .3. C where B is benefits, however measured, usually on an annual basis; and C is costs, also on an annual basis. Questions immediately arise as to just what measures are appropriate for benefits and costs. Furthermore, what does such a ratio mean or how may it be used to choose among alternative resource programs? No one would ordinarily be expected to quarrel with the notion that, somehow, the benefits expected ought to be at least great enough to compensate for the costs expended. Hence, we usually think of a minimum B-C ratio of 1:1 as necessary to open the gate for further consideration of the project at hand. 500 Immediately, however, we are faced with the problem of distinguishing between two alternative choice criteria: (1) maximization of rate of return and (2) maximization of net return. For example, two projects, each of which has an annual capital charge of $20,000, have different annual revenues and operating costs: Annual Annual operating Annual revenue costs capital charge Project A $30,000 $2,000 $20,000 Project B $90,000 $60,000 $20,000 Project A thus has net annual benefits of $8,000 and a B-C ratio by the above formula of $30,000:$22,000 or 1.36:1. Project B, on the other hand, has net annual benefits of $10,000, but a B-C ratio of $90,000:$80,000 or 1.12:1. An alternative expression of the B-C ratio which attempts to accommodate this problem is, B-C I where B is annual benefits, C is annual operating costs and I is annual capital cost. In the above case by this formula project B not only has maximum net annual benefits but also the most favorable B-C ratio. Commenting on both of these kinds of expressions, Bain (1960) offers the following criteria: 501 1. When dealing only with current investment budget, K, maximize B-C K where B = present value of benefit stream C = present value of operating cost stream. 2. When current investment budget, K, is being used to pay full capital costs, maximize E C where, C = present value of stream of all costs. A third expression deals with marginal B-C ratios, i.e., AB AC where AB signifies a change in benefits andAClsignifies a change in costs, both changes occurring with, say, a unit change in scale of project. It happens that wheretlB/AC = 1:1, maximum net benefits are achieved for the project. Where AB/AC = B/C, B/C is at a maximum. The relationship of B/C, B-C, and AB/AC to each other is illustrated in figure 47. This figure, which is taken from Sewell, Davis, Scott, and Ross (1962), can be used to point out the relevant range of such measures for determining optimum project size. Optimum EEELE occurs at Y where B—C is maximized by the familiar production principle of equating marginal cost and marginal revenue. At this point, B/C is less than maximum and AB/AC = 1:1. Point X is the scale at which B/C is maximized. This also marks the familiar beginning of the rational ”stage II” zone of production 502 Ioo " z 90 '- ao " g 70 " I. j y 8 so ‘ I \ z ’ l COSTS EQUAL BENEFITS m 5° | ,_ . E I In x ' z I m ,. - m I l . l | x MAXIMUM BENEFIT—COST RATIO ' i Y MAXIMUM NET BENEFITS ! . z UNITY BENEFIT- COST RATIO I l l | I . 20 30, 40 so so 70 o -o In | I COSTS IN DOLLARS . u «I 6 u I " I l l l 5 Z l — ' ' E I ! < I 3 m 42 I - ! .' I; i I o . ' I 0 3 Q ' " I ’1 l h 2: I P E, I In , ' I. I N AB/Ac I I I: I I I I l I I I0 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 [00 COSTSINDOLLARS ‘ SCALE OF PROJECT Figure 47.-~Benefit-cost relationships for various scales of development. Source: Sewell, Davis, Scott and Ross (1962), p. 11. 503 in production economics. Although the greatest rate of return per dollar of cost occurs at X, we have not taken full advantage of the economic productivity of the particular project until we have reached point Y. This ideal analysis assumes away a number of troubling complications, principally one dealing with limited budgets which may not allow a scale large enough to reach point Y. In such a case, we presumably would move back to point X and find another investment opportunity for the "leftovers." However, this too may present problems since some projects which would just absorb the leftover capital might be so far down the scale of desirability that the combined B/C ratio of two intermediate- sized projects would be greater than the combined large and small one. At this point, the quality of the arguments about B—C analysis should be more apparent. Our simple little notion has become quite complex when we attempt to use it, for a whole host of measurement objectives and criteria must be sifted and sorted through before any good can come of it. The works by McKean (1958), Eckstein (1959 and 1961), Krutilla (1961), Krugilla and Eckstein (1958), and many others review these problems and suggest ways of handling special aspects (e.g., the discounting procedures in the face of budgetary constraints, H H I accounting for "primary, secondary,' and "induced" effects, etc.). Nevertheless, by deve10ping an awareness of all of the ramifications of a classification decision, benefit—cost ____—-—‘_ 504 thinking coupled with, perhaps, ad hoc criteria of welfare seems to provide some judgment guide to decision making in wilderness land allocation. In this case, the benefit—cost rationale might work something like this, considering both economic and non— economic values: 1. Identify the units of land for which decisions must be made and the alternative uses for each. 2. Identify in both physical units and economic values the "tangible" benefits and costs for each alternative in each unit. Annual ”income" (broadly but relevantly defined) may be used as the benefit measure and public agency investment, and annual operating costs may be used for costs. Presumably present values of these annual data will be sought, discounting the stream of private income at an appropriate "private rate", and a lower discount rate may be used for discounting the streams of public revenues and costs. 3. Select that alternative in each area with the greatest benefit-cost ratio of the form, B-C I as discussed above. 4. Make a careful appraisal of the "intangibles" in each case by perhaps incorporating some B-C reasoning on an "intangible" level. This will be qualitative rather than quantitative. 505 5. Having thus made all relevant facts explicit, make a judgment, and specify the bases thereof, about the relative categories of use into which these areas should be placed. While the above procedures seem rather lame, leaving as they do the final decision up to judgment, they will serve to objectify a surprisingly wide range of issues and surely make the decision maker more aware of the consequences of the decision. It will also provide a point of departure for more enlightened discussion by participants in the debate. As a closing comment, we can note at least three interest- ing ideas upon which more light would be shed by B-C analysis. First, although economic values stemming from timber production always seem overpowering in the Northwest, the actual demand and supply relationships for that timber in potential Wilderness Areas have never been satisfactorily developed. Zalesky and Butler (1959) empirically express the negligibility arguments of the wilderness proponents which contain some hypotheses to be tested. There is also a disembodied assertion that states that it would be "cheaper" in the "long run" to invest more management effort in second-growth stands on already-cutover lands than to increase the transportation costs and road invest— ment costs required in obtaining the more remote timber (which is probably on lower productivity sites anyway) in potential Wilderness Areas. Furthermore, it should be noted that much of the timberland in potential classified areas has been in- cluded within the old Limited Areas in the Northwest. When 506 timberland was included within the Limited Areas it was removed from allowable cut estimates. Hence, it was never really an effective part of the timber supply for local industry. A second point which should be clarified by such analysis is the magnitude of relationship between investment costs, operating costs, and income stemming from the use of developed recreation areas. The study by Amidon and Gould (1962) of three California National Forests underscores the fact that capital investment in developed recreation areas is high and probably the limiting factor in such development. In their study area, for every dollar of timber production foregone, an estimated $25 of new capital was required to improve camp and picnic areas. We tend to estimate rather large expenditures and income figures for recreation use; yet these kinds of data have never been satisfactorily put into a B-C relationship with investment costs in the Northwest. A final point which should be revealed in a better light also by B-C analysis is the B-C ratio for wilderness use. There are definite investment costs in trails, signing, and limited facilities in Wilderness Areas as well as annual administration costs. There are also definite income values attributable to wilderness use. A B-C analysis of such values might yield more favorable ratios than commonly supposed. Budgeting A rather simple device for objectifying or making explicit the set of relevant facts is the familiar budget analysis. This 507 is used as an "artificial allocation decision procedure" for wilderness classification in ORRRC Report 3. Table 11 duplicates table 160 in ORRRC Report 3 and is discussed below. Three subareas, 1, 2, and 3, are being considered for reclassification from primitive to wilderness status. Physi— cal and economic value consequences of three alternatives (classification of (l) 1 + 2 + 3, (2) l + 2, (3) 1 only) are enumerated. Note that the three alternatives considered are "forced" on the problem by virtue of their assumed concentric zone nature. However, the same approach could be used were there a central core area and several marginal "chunks" or areas to be considered for addition to the central core. In this latter case there would be as many alternatives as there are combinations of the core with each marginal area by itself and with each possible combination of marginal areasckgi/ It is of some special interest to observe the declining per-unit value of a man-day's wilderness use in this example. The underlying rationale used by Professor Hoch for this phenomenon is (Univ. Calif., Wildland Research Center, 1962, p. 252): ...that value of a wilderness recreation man-day decreases as the total area is reduced in size, that is, there is a reduction in days of use and there is also a 125! If the number of such alternative budgets were to become large, it would be feasible to consider the possibility for more SOphisticated techniques such as linear programing. Table ll.-—Hypothetical budgets for alternative choices in a wilderness allocation choice situation Land allocation alternatives for areas in wilderness Statistic (A) (B) (C) Subareas l, 2, Subareas Subarea and 3 (all) 1 and 2 1 only Physical values: Man-days of wilderness recreation 4,000 2,000 1,000 Man-days of developed recreation 0 10,000 12,000 Commercial utilization (in appropriate units) 0 10,000 (in 3) 10,000 (in 3) 5,000 (in 2) Net return per unit: Man—days of wilderness recreation $3.00 $2.00 $1.00 Man—days of developed recreation -— $0.50 $0.50 } Commercial utilization -- $1.00 $1.00 (in 3) $0.50 (in 2) - Returns (total value): i Man—days of wilderne " I ' .‘ ~' A.. 1 ss recreation $12,000 _ $4,000, $1,000 :5 ‘ Man~days Of developed recreation 0' $5 000 $6 000. ’ a I , Commercial utilization 0 $10 000 $12 500 Subtotal $12,000 $19,000 $19,500 Other wilderness values (net benefits) $4,000 $2 000 $1 000 Total returns (in dollars) $16,000 $21 000 $20 500 Source: University of California Wildland Research Center (1962), p. 253. 80S o 509 reduction in the "value" of each day's use. It is assumed that the utility of an area to the wilderness recreation- ist decreases as (l) the area is reduced in size and (2) as certain land types (forests, for example) are re- duced in area. Put more generally, it is argued here that reduction in size of the area affects not only supply but that demand shifts can occur as well so that both quantity and price are reduced. It is not assumed that a zero price policy will be followed; if such a policy is followed, of course, the value figures will have to be assigned by the agency. In brief, it is argued here that, if a concessionnaire were selling wilderness recreation activity, as the total area is reduced he might be faced with both quantity and price reductions. While we may not agree with the rationale, we must welcome the fact that it has been "put out on the table" for all to see. A similar rationale is offered for the declining value per unit of commercial activity, but based upon higher operating costs and, hence, lower values. The rationale of the table seems clear. We have three alternatives expressed in terms of total values (assuming all relevant values are quantifiable). The choice rule is: Maximize total returns. Alternative B satisfies this decision rule. It is important to note a principle built into the table and data, however. Although the reclassification of subarea 1 only (alternative C) classifies the smallest amount of area and accumulates the largest value from commercial use, it does not, surprisingly, maximize total values. The reason, obviously is the declining realizable value of wilderness recreation. While this may seem an obscure point, it is an important one in view of the notion that the best wilderness is the smallest wilderness from a strictly economic point of view. This demonstrates that 510 this need not follow if economic values can be measured for wilderness use. We are thus free to discuss the relative merits of alternative measures of economic value. In this case, again, some income measure that accounts for a relevant range of "impact" might well be used as the value measure. Least—Qpportunity:Cost Ranking A not unique, but certainly a prominent result of allocating land to wilderness use is the amount of benefit foregone from using the land in an alternative way. To use the well-worn situation, if otherwise commercial timber is enclosed within the boundary of a Wilderness Area, society foregoes the products and values which could be realized fgom that particular timber. Conversely, deve10pment of the area with roads and timber production causes society to forego the wilderness values which otherwise might have been realized. In both cases, the values foregone in the alternative uses are part of the cost of the selected use. If one use is selected over several competing uses, the value of the highest-valued competing use is the appropriate measure of opportunity cost. In a full employment economy, marginal factor costs for all inputs into the productive process must be at least equal to the marginal value product of the input in some other process. In production theory the high profit point of resource use occurs where the difference between marginal value product and marginal factor cost is zero. Then, it follows in this scheme of analysis that resources should not be shifted from.one use to another unless the marginal 511 value product of the resource used in the new use at least equals the marginal value product of the resource in the next most valuable use. This rationale is used for imputing input values to resources for which no input price is available. This results in some confusion, of course, for we are tempted to say then that the otherwise commercial forest land used as wilderness must be worth its value as commercial forest. However, this is not correct. The value is still a gp§E.and must be used as such. This is the input price paid or marginal factor cost and not its output value or marginal value product in wilderness use. This distinction should be kept in mind. The relevance of Opportunity cost can perhaps be seen in a cost minimization context. .A relatively unrealistic case might be if a certain wilderness acreage goal were set in a region. One decision rule would be to minimize resource opportunity costs in achieving this goal. All potential addi- tions to the regional wilderness system would then be arrayed in ascending order in terms of opportunity cost. The first addition to the system would be the unit with the least oppor- tunity cost, the second addition the next least opportunity cost, etc. This seems unrealistic, however, because of the goal—setting feature. This procedure would work, however, in the artificial allocation process discussed above where concentric zones were delimited around a core area. It would, of course, work in 512 any case where least cost was the acceptable criterion and economic values could be assigned to wilderness use so we would know what the value of wilderness (marginal value product in wilderness use) was when it was foregone. It is not a correct method in the absence of such a value. The reason becomes more apparent, perhaps, when it is realized that if timber and wilder- ness are the only alternatives, there is no way of choosing when we allow timber values as opportunity costs to represent wilderness marginal value productivity. They are equal values. Joint Production Theory As a general framework of natural resource allocation, joint production theory has much to recommend it. Much of natural resource management (especially that called here mul— tiple use management) is characterized by various kinds of joint or interrelated characteristics. Even if it does no more, joint production theory provides an excellent qualitative way of thinking about natural resource allocation. It provides a notion of productivity and value response; it provides a vocabulary and analytical apparatus for describing supplementarity, competition, complementarity, and substitutability; and it can at least suggest how to use resources in view of certain ob— jectives. However, as all of its students, journeyman, and critics are quick to point out, in its present static state of development it labors under some severe restraints in terms 513 of assumptions.l§§/ These are: (l) assumptions which make the system static by fixing the production functions, the utility functions and the institutional arrangements of the economy; (2) assumptions which eliminate random elements by assuming perfect knowledge, foresight, and rationality; and (3) assump~ tions which establish motives of maximizing (a) money profits by firms, and (b) satisfactions derivable from real incomes by consumers. In spite of these assumptions, the theory has been used with considerable success in analyzing various problems. Per— haps the greatest difficulty one has in applying it is becoming sufficiently knowledgeable about particular resource allocation problems to know just how to use the theory. This seems to be a particular stumbling block in the case of wilderness. The first problem in this regard is conceptualizing produc- tion (or transformation) functions for wilderness. Figures 48 and 49 may be used to illustrate the problem. In figure 48, for example, an attempt is made to conceptualize a produc— tion function for wilderness land, X1, other inputs into the process being held constant. The first problem is tO define units for the ordinate. As far as is known, there is no unit for the wilderness product, which is what we wish to depict on $22/ These have been neatly summarized by Professor G. L. Johnson of Michigan State University in his course entitled "Agricultural Production Economics." These are merely outlined here. \_/ 514 ...-‘E O B x, Ixz,...,x,, Figure 48.--Generalized production functions for wilderness land. 515 ¥ x! IXZ)"'JXn Figure 49.--Genera1ized production functions with nonhomogeneous units of wilderness land. 516 this axis. Hence, an undefined scale of, say, satisfaction, U, is used. In general, curve 0A may be said to represent a characterization of U productivity given successively larger amounts of wilderness. As we customarily think of wilderness, it has to be moderately large in size before the wilderness proponent gains much satisfaction from it. we may infer (perhaps erroneously) that most U productivity occurs within a relatively short size range after the initial surge of U responsiveness. It would then seem to flatten out sharply implying no real significant increase in satisfaction pro- ductivity over a rather wide range of size. we may also infer eventual dissatisfaction. If the area gets too large it may take in inferior land and actually become a bore if not a burden to many users. Some users, of course, maintain that their production function is more like OBC; the vicarious "user" may have a curve like ODE; and those who look for more than mere expansiveness or solitude, such as amateur botanists with portable plant presses, may have a curve like OF. Unfortunately, wilderness land does not come in uniform increments. Figure 49 illustrates what may be the more typical cases. Curve 0A might represent rather ordinary scenery incre- ments where size is controlling. OB, however, might be repre- sentative Of the productivity of adding, first, successive increments of spectacular scenery and then simply adding buffer zones of ordinary scenery to make up the area. 0C might repre- sent additive effects of size and scenic grandeur. OQR, however, 517 suggests an initial increment of something like Glacier Peak followed by intervening lower lands, then another especially desirable unit, followed by intervening ordinary area, etc., all the while building into a huge and varied area. It has been argued that the visitor-day or visitor is a satisfactory representation of product. However, in the author's view this is a mistaken notion. What seems more reasonable is to consider visit, visitor, and visitor-day as inputs since the product is certainly something that the visitor receives, although it may be measured by the satisfaction re- ceived by the visitor. Furthermore, this conforms more with the kind of conceptualizing demonstrated by wagar (1964) concerning the impact of crowding on the satisfaction received by the recreation visitor. Figure 50 is a two variable input model showing alternative formulations of the combined produc- tivity of area and visitors. This kind of relationship would seem to warrant thoughtful consideration by wilderness land managers. In this tentative formulation, it is seen that visitors and wilderness size are substitutable and that it is hypothesized that the marginal rate Of substitution of visitors for land is less than one (i.e., in order to remain on the same productivity level, more than one acre of land must be substi- tuted for one visitor). Isoquant lines 1-9 represent increasingly higher isoproduct (satisfaction) levels. Assuming that the above functional relationships exist, how might we use them to allocate our resources (inputs)? This 518 VISITS VISITORS VISITOR'DAYé A ( X2) 21 3 O LAND'ZXI) Figure 50.--Joint production relationships between wilderness size and number of visitors. 519 presents some difficulties. Looking at the problem as if we were the visitor and we were purchasing both visits (thus necessitating perhaps some shift in our view of the shape of the functional relationships) and wilderness land, we might visualize as prices: (1) for land, its value in an alternative use, e.g., timber production;l2§/ and (2) for a visit, its cost per visit. At given income levels (discretionary income allo- cated for this purpose), then, the visitor could use this func- tional relationship, these prices and determine optimum combinations of visits (or visitor-days) and land. At income (or budget) level I4, for example, the visitor could purchase m units of "visits" or p units of wilderness, or some combination. At A29/ The "price" for land might well be its annual earning rate in the alternative use apportioned to the time which the visitor actually used. For example, if the annual earning rate in timber production is $10 per acre and the visitor planned a one-week visit, the basic price would be 19 cents per acre. Presumably, if this were allocated by the market some other charges would be added for policing, administration, maintenance, some fixed investment charges, and a cushion to cover times of nonuse so that full opportunity costs over a year would be covered. Presumably also, this annual earning charge would be only for that portion of the area which had alternative uses. Thus, a 200,000-acre Wilderness Area with 30,000 acres of other— wise commercial forest land which could earn, producing timber, $10 per acre annually, would warrant a basic charge of $1.50 per acre per year. This would be about 3 cents per acre per week. If only 2,000 visitors used the area, however, the "average" visitor would have to incur a minimum charge of $150 in order for the operator to cover his annual costs. These charges may seem high, but they may be at about the right order of magnitude for a completely unsubsidized market allocation of wilderness. 520 this income level, however, and with the given preference func- tions (isosatisfaction curves) he would maximize satisfaction by purchasing Oz "visits" and 0d wilderness land by the usual tangency rule in such analysis. This, of course, is quite generalized and highly specula— tive. However, it does present some suggestive concepts. For example, it demonstrates the usefulness of determining the functional relationship between measures of use and characteris- tics of wilderness-type areas. It also clarifies some of the economic consequences of wilderness use. In this regard, it demonstrates the need to consider opportunity costs of land use as well as direct cash outlay for the visit in order to sense the fpll impact of this kind of recreation. This cost is what the visitor would have to pay (visit cost + land use cost) if it were to be provided as a market function. Some discussion has been made about fees for the use of Wilderness Areas.l§1/ It might be argued that such fees would give us a better idea of the value of wilderness. However, this seems a vain, and pointless, hope. It seems unlikely that such lgl/ The December 5 and 6, 1963, meeting in washington, D.C., of the Secretary of Agriculture's Advisory Committee on multiple use of the National Forests included discussion of charges for wilderness use. The Committee wholeheartedly supported the idea of "reasonable" charges for such use. "Reasonable" was not precisely interpreted, but one criterion of fee level offered was that charges should be at least high enough to offset the costs of collection. Forest Service Chief Cliff stated, "Charging to go into a wilderness is justified on the basis that it has to be improved or managed for recrea- tion purposes, or special service provided. 'Facilities' or 'services' are the key words there." 521 fees will (or should) be high enough to cover opportunity costs in the sense discussed above or that they will have any direct relationship at the outset with demand (in the sense of being constructed from Clawson~type demand curves). Charges for such use seem likely to be token charges for the psychological impact this may have on users (e.g., it may improve camper courtesy and sanitation--or it may not) and for some assistance in the maintenance and management programs for wilderness. It seems likely, therefore, that the "true" value of wilderness will (and perhaps should) remain in the shadow of our traditional social preference for providing this kind of service at public expense. Finally, this kind of analysis points up the problem of using the results of demand analysis such as Clawson's demand curves or other methods to determine what price people would pay for such an experience if they were confronted with the opportunity. Although these results might give us an idea of the number of visits at alternative fee levels, these are only very tentative guides for public resource allocation. They seem especially incomplete for wilderness allocation. The principal reason, of course, is that they are unrelated to costs and to use such values we need to put them in juxtaposition with costs. In the case of wilderness, we have not yet adequately defined wilderness product so that we can estimate its cost of production in a way comparable to a schedule of prices. Such a schedule of costs to supply the product needed for the alternative 522 levels of ”consumers" at the alternative levels of "prices" is required. In the absence of such cost schedules we must rely on some other restraint, e.g., a guess as to the number of visitors that ppghp to be allowed. Then we could charge the corresponding price and let it be our use regulator. In short, this kind of economics choice mechanism also provides a qualitative way of assessing the consequences of wilderness allocation. Its full application to this problem requires additional development, however. A Simple Two-Valued Choice System After all of the complexities of the above valuation and choice schemes are considered, one wonders if there might not be a more simple scheme that can be used in rule—of-thumb fashion, but which still represents a sound integration of welfare notions and the logic of choice of economics. A simple scheme does suggest itself, although it may not be considered a Sub- stitute for the rigorous analysis of above methodologies wherever they can be applied. Let us assume four alternative boundary proposals for a possible classified Wilderness Area. we will assume a core area of unquestionable acceptability as wilderness with two marginal areas, both of which apparently have alternative uses. We will designate the core area A and the two marginal areas B and C. The boundary alternatives are: 523 Alternative Combination (l) A alone (2) A + B (3) A + C (4) A+B+C The general model proposes that the "best" alternative be chosen with the criterion: Maximize economic values where noneconomic values are equal, if possible; maximize noneconomic values where economic values are equal, if possible. Figure 51 illustrates the portrayal of one set of the consequences of a hypothetical potential wilderness classifi- cation. This crude decision making aid is relatively self— explanatory. Dollar value productivity (however comparably measured) of each alternative is depicted on the left. Only those economic consequences which actually occur explicitly in the market are shown. These include wilderness and de- veloped recreation values. The right side of the diagram is provided for an expression of nonwilderness values to be used wiph, in an additive fashion and ppp compared to, the economic values. The scale is both indeterminate (in the sense of having no maximum) and undefined (or without a measurable unit). As odd as this may appear, it seems to correspond with our judgment process by allowing us to still make "better than" comparisons. we might envision several rounds of unidimensional better-than comparisons on such a scale, each round based upon some judgmental criterion, such as the 524 3W2 1::I I” E//////// :1: l a (3) §———u—___T <3) __—.____, <4) I: _ j (4) f=1 , ...‘._,_= __ .. __ __ __ _p}-_ gfl—“L ’--‘ o UWJQ...JN I=,_ _I“PECRENHON M”TIMBER I_‘——‘ __:j—- NONECONOMIC VALUES Figure 51.—-Hypothetical two-valued display of wilderness classification consequences. 525 "goodness" of an alternative for wilderness using alternative (1) as a basis for comparison, or the political "goodness" of the alternative, etc. It would be hoped that after several rounds, a clear idea of a "best" choice alternative would be obtained. Note alternatives (2) and (3) in the diagram. Both yield the same value in wilderness, yet (2) yields substantially more economic value. At this stage of decision making, (2) would be chosen over (3). However, no other choices are clearcut at this stage. Successive rounds of betterness judgment on other criteria will be required to know whether (4) will always be better than the others in terms of noneconomic values, etc. Eventually, it may be necessary to judge that noneconomic values (or yigg versa) outweigh economic values—~i.e., make a direct comparison. However, this should be avoided until there is no other recourse, for then even the simple objectivity of the device depicted in figure 51 is lost. While the simplicity of this scheme may appear to verge on the ludicrous, it is recommended for three reasons: (1) it forces the decision maker to become explicit about the process of his decision making; (2) it forces a quantification of quanti- fiable facts and a qualitative appraisal of the nonquantifiable; and (3) it seems to correspond with the implicit model used in making such decisions. 526 Economic Consequences of Wilderness Classification in the Northwest Attempts to quantify the economic consequences of particular wilderness classifications have been noted in the above descrip- tions of Northwest cases and in the literature. The overall economic consequences of such classifications nationwide have been cursorily alluded to in the general negligibility argument of the prowilderness rationale. The overall Northwest regional impacts of wilderness classification have not been quantified however. While the above discussion of economics methodologies and, indeed, the entire discourse on wilderness ideology and allocation methods may raise questions about the purpose of such quantification, it seems useful to at least speculate qualitatively about the economic consequences of wilderness classification in the Northwest. Relevant Land Use Alternatives First, what are the relevant land use alternatives for Northwest Wilderness Areas? Mineral prospecting and develop— ment in Forest Service classified areas is not prohibited by law, although we may speculate that prospecting and development in Wilderness Areas may incur slightly greater unit costs be— cause of: (1) lack of existing transportation and service facilities, and (2) some extra effort to hold visible site disturbance to a minimum. Costs of administrative agencies may also be increased in order to maintain surveillance of the opera- tions. Yet, it may be argued that general protection costs of t 527 the administrative agency may be lowered due to enhanced accessi- bility of the mineral development site and adjacent areas and the existence of a local fire suppression crew at the site in the form of the mining or prospecting crew. In any event, none of these relationships have been made explicit for this region as a whole. Nevertheless, because this land use is not fore- gone and because the residual economic impact of classification on this use would appear to be slight, it is not considered a particularly relevant alternative. Another alternative is the use of potential classified land as a water resource development site. This would include water storage dam and impoundment sites for irrigation, domestic and hydropower purposes; irrigation canals; and stock watering ponds and diversion structures. The Secretary of Agriculture's Regulations U—l and U—2 state that such facilities, insofar as they require roads, are not permitted. However, such facilities, even though they require roads, may be permitted--even against petition for withdrawal by the Secretary of Agriculture—-if they are on sites previously designated as waterpower sites by the U.S. Geological Survey. As important as such alternatives may be in the economic life of dependent communities, they have not figured significantly in Northwest classification history, presumably because of the general abundance of water resources and number of alternative sites. Ross Lake behind Ross Dam, bisecting the North Cascade Primitive Area, is the major excep- tion to this. However, this lake strikes many as a supplement 528 to, rather than a detraction from, this classified area. As a general rule, therefore, this use of potential wilderness land has not been a particularly relevant alternative in the Northwest. Enhancement of water flows by vegetative manipulation of wilderness watershed vegetation, snow catchment structures, or other "nonwilderness" alternatives, have not been fully evaluated in terms of physical or economic response in such areas. Furthermore, the impacts of such increased or otherwise "regu- lated" flows on water quality and attendant water treatment costs could be substantial and tend to offset any gains realizable. Because this alternative is so vaguely defined at present and because it has also not been importantly considered in classifica- tion history in this region, it does not appear to be highly relevant. The grazing of domestic livestock and the use of classi- fied Wilderness Areas for hunting and fishing are not prohibited by classification and, hence, do not constitute relevant alterna— tives. However, this is not to say that the same vegetative management practices to favor livestock or game would be chosen regardless of the land use. Browsing game, such as deer, might be favored in nonwilderness management programs which would tolerate more drastic vegetative treatment measures such as timber harvesting. Grazers, such as cattle and elk, might be favored by management of open alpine meadows in wilderness status . 529 So-called "easy access" recreation development appears to be a highly relevant land use alternative to some portions of potential institutionalized Wilderness Areas. Yet, although this alternative to wilderness classification is frequently mentioned, it has rarely been quantified. This may be con— sidered more a tribute to the quality of decision making than might be supposed. The reason appears to be simple recognition of the difficult and unresolved problem of making a betterness comparison between two apparently mutually exclusive kinds of recreation with somewhat the following form: (VW X Uw) SE (Vd x Ud) where, Vw = social value of one wilderness man—day visit Uw = number of wilderness man-days Vd = social value of one developed recreation man—day visit Ud = number of developed recreation man—days and where, Vw :> Vd The problem is that we have not yet learned to measure social values satisfactorily. The "solution" has thus been to make some broad pd hpg dominant—use value judgments and decisions allocating certain areas to developed recreation use. In the Three Sisters case and especially in the Glacier Peak case the developed or easy—access recreation alternative was ex- plicitly identified but not rigorously quantified, signifying the apparent token consideration given to it in the decision- making context here described. The lack of quantification of 530 this alternative prevents (for this study) estimation of the economic consequences of foregoing such opportunities. While existing economic measures of recreation visitation may not be ideal, they do exist and could be applied to visitation conse- quences of the classification decisions and the results used in the choice mechanisms discussed above. In any event, despite its general relevance, the regional economic consequences of foregoing this alternative cannot be evaluated in this study. By far the major alternative considered for potential classified wilderness has been the use of some of these lands for timber production. Estimates of the economic impact of "locked up" timber are characteristic of antiwilderness broadsides, and are characteristically met by the negligibility argument of the wilderness enthusiast. This becomes, in a broad sense, even more relevant in the Northwest region where the timber resource provides a base for an important amount of economic activity regionally and nationally. Furthermore, a limited amount of quantification of foregone timber production opportunities resulting from wilderness classification is possible, since estimates of timber volumes in classified areas are available. These are briefly explored below. Timber-Based Impacts of Wilderness Classification Timber inventory.-—The tabulation below shows the esti— mates, by classified area, of the otherwise commercial timber volume enclosed within Forest Service classified wilderness-type 531 Apgg Net volume of commercial timber (thousand board feet) Wild Areas: Diamond Peak 61,100 Gearhart Mountain 32,465 Kalmiopsis 299,400 Mount Hood 30,000 Mount washington 147,546 Mountain Lakes 346,065 Strawberry Mountain 17,555 Goat Rocks 1,124,671 Mount Adams 187,370 Wilderness Areas: Eagle Cap 193,550 Three Sisters 2,477,930 Glacier Peak 3,328,550 Primitive Areas: Mount Jefferson 256,230 North Cascade 4,001,000 Total 12,503,432 These volumes were considered merchantable because they were contained in trees which were as large (generally sawtimber- sized) as timber elsewhere which was being bought and sold in a market. However, whether this timber was or is in fact "worth" anything at market prices is something else again, since it was 532 and is relatively inaccessible, on relatively precipitous and high logging cost terrain, and on generally low productivity sites. An attempt to account for "operability" was made in the Glacier Peak case where "operable" and "inoperable" volumes in the "commercial" category were recognized. "Operable" timber was that which would have been available for sale if not in- cluded within the Wilderness Area. This amounted to 62 percent of the total commercial volume or 2.08 billion board feet. "Inoperable" timber was "not available because of steep country, unstable soil, avalanche areas, or excessive development costs." Were an annual allowable cut to be calculated for this otherwise commercial volume of timber, various kinds of produc- tivity constraints would have to be recognized; e.g., site, species, and management policies. A crude guess suggests the following orders Of magnitude of assumptions and data: 1. Sixty percent of the volume is from site IV or worse. A rotation of 150 years might be assumed for this site. 2. Thirty percent of the volume is site III for which a conservative rotation of 100 years is assumed. 3. The remaining 10 percent of the volume is assumed to come from site class II with a rotation of 80 years. 4. Assume 25 percent of the total "commercial" volume would be "inoperable" for various reasons. These rotations are longer than those found in management plans in this region and used in other studies (U.S. Forest Service, a;_z~';':‘ My). -9=—__ 533 1963). However, they reflect a general consensus of the relative productivity of wilderness timberlands compared with generally more favorable sites. Assuming that growth and mortality estimates are accounted for by the assumed rotations, a rough weighted average annual allowable cut (assuming also even volume flow is the desirable safe maximum level of cut), would be somewhat more than 77 million board feet.l2§/ For comparison, the annual allowable cut for the National Forests in Region 6 is approximately 4.2 billion board feet. The annual allowable cut possible from wilderness timber as estimated roughly above is thus about 1.8 percent of the current Region 6 allowable cut for the National Forests. At these orders of magnitude, and assuming that another million acres or so of potential classified wilderness exists in the Northwest, a maximum potential annual allowable cut Of 100 million board feet affected by such classification seems reasonable. lflé/ Calculated as follows: 1. "Operable" volume = .75 x 12.5 billion board feet = 9.4 billion board feet 2. a. .60 x 9.4 = 37.3 million board feet 150 b. .30 x 9.4 = 28.0 million board feet 100 c. .10 x 9.4 = 11.8 million board feet 80 3. Total: 77.1 million board feet per year 534 Timber Values and Employpent Assuming that the timber volume data above are "accurate" enough, we can now try to interpret them in terms of dollar value measures and employment. The following dollar values will be employed: 1. Stumpage. 2. Capital value. 3. Value added. 4. National income. Stumpage.~-Net stumpage returnslgg/ for the timber enclosed within Wilderness Areas are difficult to determine for such analysis presupposes information about the market and costs of procurement for this timber. Such information does not exist. Nevertheless, an index of the possibilities is provided by recent timber sales made in areas adjacent to the timber in 422/ Forest Service standing timber (stumpage) appraisal methods are generally well-known following the "residual-value theory" concept quoted below from the Forest Service Manual, section 2423.21: Forest Service analytical appraisals use returns, costs, and profits to determine stumpage values. Forest Service appraisals are based on the proposition that timber is worth the selling value of the products manufactured from it, minus cost of production and margin of profit and risk to the purchaser. Selling value minus cost of production is termed conversion return. The division of conversion return between a profit to the purchaser and a stumpage fee to the seller is another way to express the basic appraisal procedure. Stumpage under this theory is a residual which develops after cost and profit have been deducted from estimated selling value returns. 535 classified areas. In this case, 16 National Forest timber sales made between April 1 and June 30, 1964, near the boundaries of the Glacier Peak and Three Sisters Wilderness Areas were examined. The weighted average appraised value for the 26.2 million board feet of timber involved in these sales was $19.44 per thousand board feet. However, the average price paid by purchasers after bidding was $24.12 a thousand board feet. In order to account for anticipated increases in logging and development costs, were logging to move into the more rugged and roadless terrain of wilderness timberland, and to reflect the increasing preponderance of lower valued upper—slope species, a conservative appraised price of $12 per thousand seems reasonable. A reasonable though conservative estimate of actual bid price is $15 a thousand board feet. At these prices, the annual stumpage returns to the public from operable, commercial wilderness timber might be about $1.2 million. This figure is boosted to over $1.5 million by the addition of the "potential" wilderness timber to the "foregone" category. These values are, in effect, opportunity costs to the public to be balanced against other, less easily quantifiable, public returns which are bound up in the various prowilderness ration- ales outlined above. Capital value.~—If desired, these annual returns could be capitalized into a resource value dependent upon timber as a capital asset. In this case, recent trends in stumpage returns are ambiguous, suggesting that for purposes of gross estimation, A II. 536 current stumpage prices can be used for an infinite series of annual returns capitalized at an appropriate rate. Selection of an "appropriate" rate presents added problems. Although recent Federal guidelines recommend using the low interest payable on long term Federal securities (U.S. Congress, Senate, 1962), it seems rational to many that the higher rate obtainable on long term private investment is more appropriate-~ as if the opportunity existed to convert such timber-dependent assets to other kinds of assets. To accommodate most vieWpoints, three interest rates are used below to estimate a range of capital value: 1. $1,200,000 = $60,000,000 .02 2. $14200p000 = $30,000,000 .04 3. $1,2094000 = $20,000,000 .06 Value added.--One approach that has some merit as a means of extending the value attributable to a particular lot of timber into the economy at alternative levels of product dis- tribution is what is called here the "value-added" approach. It relies heavily upon the concept Of value added by manufac- ture as defined and used by the U.S. Department of Commerce so as to obtain a measure of the swelling in value which occurs as a given unit of resource is processed through successive 537 l stages of the distribution process.292/ In this sense such values are additive "vertically" for any given resource, and "horizontally” for all resources when a tight control is maintained on accountable and attributable values. A multistage value—added analysis for timber for the year 1958 (the most recent year for which detailed data of this type are generally available) has been made by Hair (1963). The processing stages and values used by him are the basis for the following estimates. 1. Processing stages and rationale. The general model used in making these rough estimates is developed below around the following levels of timber utilization activity at which values are measured: a. Timber management. b. Timber harvesting. c. Primary product manufacturing. d. Secondary product manufacturing. e. Construction use. f. Transportation and marketing. The end-product purchases made with tourist 299/ Value added by manufacture is obtained from the value of shipments for products manufactured (plus receipts for services rendered and other receipts such as the sale of scrap) from which has been subtracted the cost of materials, supplies and con- tainers, fuel, purchased electric energy, and contract work. Added to this result is the value added by merchandising Opera- tions and the change in finished goods and work-in-process inventories between the beginning and end of the year. 538 expenditures may also be conceived to have a similar, many-layered genesis. For example, the curio purchased in a novelty shop has a value which is the summation of values added to the basic materials, from raw materials to the end product. Looked at from another point of view, the price paid for the curio represents what the buyer is willing to pay and this price in turn sets a value on all the sublevels of activities. A house also may be viewed as a final demand product with all of its components at various sublevels valued by such derived demand (i.e., final demand price less costs of each sublevel of production). Some interesting chicken-egg questions can occur, of course, such as who claims the value of the tourist curio if it is made from local timber? If we take the wood away, do we have a dangling demand? Or, if we take the expenditure away, do we have a worthless wooden Indian? The answer is that to the extent this happens, comparisons cause them to cancel out, for the curio is only worth what is spent for it. Hence, it is only the difference between the paired alternatives that is of significance and both may claim the value of the wooden curio. Timber management value. The first level of value measurement, timber management, presumably can claim that the value added by it is measured by stumpage. Average stumpage value for 539 wilderness timber in the Northwest was estimated above 'l to be about $15 per thousand board feet. Hence, anti- cipated stumpage value expenditure or the value added by ”timber management" to the above estimate of allow- able cut for this timber is $1.2 million, or $1.5 million if "potential" wilderness timber is included. Timber harvesting values. The values added by harvesting and by the other levels of producing a final demand product are more difficult to conceive. However, for the purposes of this rough analysis the value added is assumed to be i the same as it was in 1958, although in fact it seems more likely that value added per unit of wood processed will increase substantially in the future. This obser- vation is based on the upward trend of value added from 1950 to 1958 and on anticipated increases in price levels in the future. New capital expenditures in wood processing activities might also be claimed, but will be ignored for present estimates. Timber harvesting activities include all those re— quired to harvest and transport logs and related products from forests to local points of delivery. Average value added per cubic foot of timber harvested, considering all processing alternatives, in Washington and Oregon in 1958 was 16.9 cents. This is 3.0 cents a board foot, based on local conversion factors, or $30,000 per million 540 board feet. Value added for harvesting 77 million board feet of wilderness timber would thus be $2.3 million, or $3.0 million for 100 million board feet. 4. Primary product manufacturing values. Primary product manufacturing activities include all those required to convert logs into such basic or primary products as lumber, veneer, plywood, paper, turpentine, and rosin. Estimates at this stage re- quire a breakdown of log flow to alternative process- ing opportunities. Log flow shares have been estimated in table 12 for the National Forests of the Northwest. Value added per unit of output in the Western U.S. has been estimated for each of the major primary processing alternatives. These are shown in table 13. These value-added factors have been converted to value added per unit of input using local conversion factors so that the value added per million board feet of logs processed can be determined. These input value-added factors and total value added in primary processing for the possible allowable cut of Northwest Wilderness Area timber are shown in table 14. Total estimated value added by primary processing would thus be $3.4 million annually. Using the alterna- tive estimate of 100 million board feet of allowable cut yields an estimate of $4.2 million or about a 23-percent 541 Table 12.--Estimated allocation of allowable cut estimates for wilderness timber to processiggralternativesl/ Allocated P i alter ative Pro ortionate share rocess ng n p allowable cut Percent Million board feet Sawmills 60 46.1 Veneer 10 7.7 Pulp 15 11.6 All other (including export) 15 11.6 Total 100 77.0 l/ Based generally on log flow patterns estimated in the unpublished office report by Walter J. Mead. Log flow and use from Region 6 National Forests. 20 pp. (On file at Pacific NW. Forest & Range Expt. Sta., Div. Forest Econ. and Marketing Res.) January 30, 1963. 542 Table 13.~-Value added estimatesgper unit of output in primary timber products manufacturing Total value Total Value added Processing added in Western U.S. per unit of alternative Western U.S., output, output, 1958 1958 1958 Thousand dollars Sawmills, planing 19,629 $25,911 per mills 508,600 million bd. ft. million bd. ft. Veneer and 6,487 $39,024 per plywood mills 253,150 million sq. ft. million sq. ft. (3/8-inch basis) Pulp and 4,000 paperboard mills 344,550 thousand tonsl/ $86 per ton Other 18,050 200,850 $90 per thousand cu. ft. thousand cu. ft. l/ Estimated average weight, pulp, paper and board mills combined. l 543 Table 14.-~Estimate of value added in primagy manufacturing attributable to the 77 million board-foot allowable cut of Northwest wilderness timber Value added Total value Processing per million Volume of logs added alternative board feet of processed by primary logs processed processing Dollars Million bd. ft. Dollars Sawmills and planing mills 31,637 46.1 1,458,466 1 Veneer and plywood l mills 93,655 7.7 721,144 Pulp and ‘ paperboard mills 86,138 11.6 999,200 Other 16,350 11.6 189,660 Total —- 77.0 3,368,470 Note: Basic rough conversion factors used were: (1) Log volume = .819 of lumber volume reported. (2) 1 board foot log volume = 2.4 square feet of 3/8-inch plywood. (3) (a) 2 rough cords of pulpwood = 1 dry ton of pulp, paper and board. (b) 500 board feet of logs = l rough cord. (c) 1,000 board feet of logs = 1 dry ton of pulp, paper and board. (4) 5.5 board feet = 1 cubic foot. —__J 544 increase commensurate with the "potential" 23-percent increase in possible foregone allowable cut. Secondary manufacturing values. Secondary manufacturing activities include those required for products which require a portion of the primary output of lumber, plywood, paper, and other products. These include furniture, containers, toys, and wearing apparel. Ratios of value added attributable to timber between levels of processing activity for the Western U.S. have been used for estimating value added by secondary manufacturing as well as in con- struction, transportation, and marketing. This procedure carries with it the two assumptions: (1) timber from the Northwest reaches into adjacent western (and national) markets; and (2) the value added figures for the Western U.S., which reflect only that amount of the timber harvested which is actually used in secondary manufacturing in the Western U.S., are representative of the proportion of timber from the Northwest actually used in secondary manufac- ture. Were ratios used which applied to a particular unit of timber processed through all levels of manu- facture and remanufacture, the resulting value-added figure probably would be much higher. However, it should be recognized that the primary products pro- duced in the West do not, on the whole, go through 545 the high value-added secondary processing that characterizes eastern and southern manufacturing. The ratio of value added in secondary manufactur- ing attributable to timber in the Western U.S. to value added in primary processing in the Western U.S. is 0.4646:l.0000. Applying this multiplier of .4646 to the $3.4 million estimated as value added in primary processing of the 77 million board feet yields an esti- mate of $1.6 million of value added to this same timber by secondary manufacture. Based on the alterna- tive estimate of 100 million board feet, this figure becomes $2.0 million. 6. Construction values. Construction activities include all those involved in fabricating primary and secondary products into buildings and other fixed structures. The ratio of value added by construction attributable to timber to value added by primary manufacture in the Western U.S. has been used. This is 6.5318:1.0000. Thus, $3.4 million, the value added by primary manufacture of the 77 million board feet of foregone allowable cut, times 6.5318 yields an estimate of $22.2 million of value added to that part of the original volume used in construction. Again, based on the alternative estimate of allowable cut foregone, this figure can be increased to a possible $27.3 million. 546 7. Transportation and marketing values. The last set or level of analysis is that of transportation and marketing activities which include all those involved in the transportation of logs from local points of delivery to manufacturing plants or consumers; transportation of primary and secondary products from points of manufacture to final consumers; and the marketing of these products through wholesale and retail channels. In this case, a national data ratio of value added in transportation and marketing attributed to timber to value added in primary manu— facturing was used. This ratio, l.2224:1.0000, yields, when applied to the $3.4 million of value added by primary manufacture of 77 million board feet, an esti— mate of $4.2 million of foregone value added attributable to timber in transportation and marketing. Again, increasing the foregone allowable cut estimates to 100 million board feet increases this figure to $5.2 million. The total-Va1ue—added-foregone figure for all levels of activity involving the 77 million board feet of timber is thus estimated as follows: 547 Wall—new (millions of dollars) Timber management 1.2 Timber harvesting 2.3 Primary processing 3.4 Secondary processing 1.6 Construction 22.2 Transportation and marketing _4;2 Total 34.9 This represents consumer expenditures which (in a social vacuum sense) have "disappeared“ because access to utilization of this volume of timber has been blocked. These values are comparable (assuming they are accurate) to total expenditures, regardless of where they occur, of wilderness visitors, to the extent that these expenditures represent only what is actually attributable to the visits to Northwest Wilderness Areas. These total expenditures for timber are appropriate to compare with total expenditures for visitations for whatever meaning they may have. Capturing and comparing appropriate portions of these total expenditures within particular geo- graphic areas presents added problems. In order to do this satisfactorily, more complete knowledge of interindustry rela- tions in the Northwest would be required. Wages and national income estimates.--Based on fragmentary estimates, the directly-created wages attributable to expenditures 548 for timber products may range from 23 to 42 percent of expendituresZQl/ and could perhaps average 30 percent, a pro— portion of total costs not much different than that for recrea- tion expenditures. Presumably, then, about $10.5 million of directly-created wages may be attributed to the 77 million board feet of allowable timber cut which may be foregone as a result of wilderness classification. A comparable figure for the 100 million board—foot estimate is $12.9 million. These, however, are directly-created wages wherever timber expenditures are made and not just within the Northwest region, since the total expenditures above occur everywhere that this timber finds itself. Perhaps as much as 50 percent of this would occur within the Northwest region. However, much of this would be incurred outside the region, particularly in the construction, transportation, and marketing stages in western and national markets. Perhaps a better comparison basis for broad policy purposes is the national income measure noted above without regard for incidence except for the whole national economy. assuming national income continues to maintain its steady share of Gross National Product at about 82 percent, national income attributable to this 77 million board-foot increment of timber would be about $28.6 million, or $35.2 million based on 100 million board feet. 291/ Unpublished report by Arthur D. Little, Inc. The economic growth of the Puget Sound region: A forecast of future levels of economic activity and industrial space and location requirements. 1962. 549 Employment opportunities.--Employment opportunities which might be foregone also need to be estimated. Employment factors (i.e., employees per unit of wood processed) have been estimated elsewhereggg/ and are used in table 15 to estimate total direct labor requirements to process the allowable cut from foregone wilderness timber. This suggests that about nine direct employ- ment opportunities per million board feet of timber foregone are part of the consequences of such classification decisions in the Northwest. It was recently estimated that 2.4 employees are required in "nonbasic” industries for every one in such "basic" industries as the timber industries.29§/ Hence, induced additional employ- ment would be about 16,536 persons per year for the 77 million board—foot estimate of wilderness timber foregone. This implies a total employment of 17,225 directly and indirectly attributable to this foregone allowable cut now. Returns from Wilderness- Associated Activities The consequences of Northwest regional wilderness classi- fications estimated above present an incomplete picture, for 202/ Data on file at Pacific NW. Forest & Range Expt. Sta., Div. Forest Econ. & Marketing Res., Portland. 292/ Flora, Donald F. Tentative economic evaluation of potential European pine shoot moth damage in the ponderosa pine region. 13 pp., 1963. (Unpublished office report on file at Pacific NW. Forest & Range Expt. Sta., Div. Forest Econ. & Marketing Res., Portland, Oreg.) 550 Table 15.--Estimate of direct labor requirements to process foregone allowable cut from wilderness timber Employees per Processing million board feet Log Direct labor alternative use requirements of logs processed Million bd. ft. Logging 2 77.0 154.0 Sawmills and planing mills 6 46.1 276.6 Veneer and plywood mills 14 7.7 107.8 Pulp, paper, and allied products 7 11.6 81.2 Other 6 11.6 69.6 Total -- —— 689.2 551 some positive economic returns do accrue in the form of the expenditures of wilderness users. In contrast with the studies of wilderness users in other regions, wilderness studies in the Northwest have not sought to obtain much in the way of economic facts from and about wilderness users. Hence, we have no direct index of wilderness user expenditures in the Northwest. An order of magnitude guess, however, based on estimates pre- sented for other areas and outdoor recreation in the National Forests in general, suggests a figure of $10 a day per visitor. In calendar year 1963, 87,800 visits were estimated for Wilderness, Wild, and Primitive Areas in Region 6.293/ At 1.5 visitor-days per visit and at the $10 expenditure-per-day rate, visitor expenditures on wilderness trips in Region 6 are estimated at $1.3 million for 1963. These visitation expenditure estimates are startingly close to the $1.2 million of wilderness timber stumpage re- ceipts presumably foregone. However, they are conceptually comparable only with the $34.9 million of total value-added measures for timber, assuming the estimating data are comparably accurate. A number of questions have not been dealt with in these gross estimates, of course. One of these is the matter of 293/ U.S. Forest Service. Use of recreation resources on the National Forests, calendar year 1963. 1 pp. Washington Office multigraphed tabulation. Amended May 1, 1964. 552 1 incidence of expenditure and the extent to which these ex- penditures might have occurred anyway without the wilderness-— or without the timber. It seems fair to ask, for example, whether or not consumer’s (and producer's) demands for raw materials were or were not better supplied for having foregone the wilderness timber. There does not seem to be a readily apparent way to answer this question or other similar ones, since this would require the construction of a number of tools (e.g., demand and supply curves for timber and wood products, measures of the cross elasticities of demand for wood and wood substitute products, etc.) which do not exist. Residual Commentary No attempt is made here to sum up the thoughts contained in this lengthy chapter. Each unit of the chapter is in effect a summary of a broad range of ideas. However, in a few words, a point of view regarding the use of economics in this and related problems is expressed in part by repeating statements made above and in part by some introspection on the part of the author. First, the amount of ingenuity expended in devising eco- nomic valuation procedures for outdoor recreation is impressive. However, the development of explicit choice mechanisms for using these values has not kept equal pace. We are thus forced to speculate further about the utility of economic values as we can measure them for making outdoor recreation decisions. 553 Second, at our present stage of development of economics choice mechanisms, we must be rather circumspect about just how far these mechanisms go in providing a complete basis for decision making. What seems to be a good compromise is to make explicit the economic consequences of alternative decisions and attempt to develop objective techniques for using both economic and noneconomic consequences in decision making. A \ limited attempt of this kind was made in figure 51. Furthermore, the utility of particular valuation schemes cannot be fairly appraised in the absence of evaluation ob- jectives. This is again the problem of being provided an optimum, but without having criteria specified. This is a particular problem with wilderness allocation. While some of the valuation techniques outlined above are useful for the answers they provide about expected visitation and expenditure levels, they provide little more than an added means of measur— ing economic consequences. Finally, we must be impressed with the large number of questions whose answers would facilitate both the measurement of economic consequences and the making of decisions. Many of these have been explicitly or implicitly identified above. The fact that most of these questions have not been answered lends support to the need for additional research. With respect to the major question raised by the title of this chapter--Does economics have a contribution to make to the allocation of wilderness?--the answer is affirmative in a 554 negative sort of way. The above discussions of economics concepts and methodologies should provide a rigorous structure for at least qualitative analysis of wilderness and other wildland resource allocation problems. It has also served to point out the glaring inadequacies in our data base which might be used to measure the consequences of such decisions as well as implement choice mechanisms. It is particularly hoped, however, that the need for more precisely defined objectives and criteria for land allocation decisions is heavily under— scored. CHAPTER IX REAPPRAISAL AND CONCLUSIONS This chapter provides a capsulized point of view about the matter of wilderness land allocation against the background of concepts presented above. Some inferences about the relevance of these concepts and decision making processes are also drawn. The discussion is built around the following topics: 1. The institutional setting for wilderness land alloca- tion. Institutionalized wilderness allocation objectives and criteria. Wilderness values—-economic and noneconomic. The choice process. Recommendations. The Institutional Setting Four new studies dealing with the quality of the Federal Government and its staff were recently reviewed by Stover (1964). The results of these studies prompted him to quote Plato's suggestion for adequate staffing of Government (p. 113): Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and these commoner natures who pursue either to the exclu— sion of the other are compelled to stand aside, elites will never have rest from their evils--no, nor the whole human race. Although these studies were concerned largely with Federal ”executives" (i.e., agency heads, such as the Chief of the Forest Service), the commentary is particularly appropriate 555 556 for the institutionalized wilderness decision maker. The world of this decision maker is one of cross—currents of reality. He is a public servant who must heed the call of the whole public; yet he must be forthright and decisive. He is enmeshed in an organizational hierarchy requiring dependency, obedience and loyalty; while at the same time he must exercise individual initiative, creativity, and personal responsibility. Finally, he is expected to "keep in touch” with and be a part of the human world; and yet he must not allow personal involve- ment to influence the conduct of his office. While these characteristics may not uniquely differentiate the environment of the Federal agency and wilderness decision makers from that of those in private industry, they make up a powerful set of facts to be considered in assessing the performance of these "philosopher kings.” Briefly, and to the point of wilderness land allocation, the institutional framework which generates cross—currents of reality for wilderness decision makers can be considered complex enough for any of Plato's "elite.” The Forest Service itself is a fascinating mosaic of historical circumstances, public responsiveness, organizational loyalties, professional comraderie, and romantic nostalgia in the eyes of much of the public which it serves. Literally surrounding the Forest Service is a heterogenous public. Institutionalized and con- flicting points of view become entrenched and associated with particular segments of this public. Laws and regulations 557 dealing with wilderness have been, with few exceptions, general or vague, leaving the decision maker at the mercy of his own wit and public pressure. Because of these factors, the wilderness decision maker is placed in a position to confront some of the most basic issues of public administration almost barehanded. He must make decisions which capture the maximum "public good” from the diverse "goods" held by the public. Neither the law nor the nimble intellects of academicians have provided him with a sure guide for selecting all of the relevant alternatives, foreseeing all of the possible consequences of each, and choosing the "best" one. Agency objectives, prevailing political philosophies, the relative effective strengths of organized segments of the public, personal commitments to particular philosophical views on the part of the decision maker—-all influence the decision. At the same time, however, the institutional framework is not so inflexible or does not create so indeterminate an environment as to stifle decision making. Institutionalized wilderness once identified has been blotted out. Undiscovered wilderness has been discovered. Coalitions and schisms of separate groups occur over particular issues. Political ex- pertise has been acquired over time by the agency, and its key decision makers, which has enabled it to alter its rules and become more efficient in making stable and acceptable \ decisions. 558 Objectives and Criteria Faced with these complexities, one searches for the "rules of the game." In the case of wilderness land allocation, one must search carefully, for the rules, such as they are, may easily be overlooked. To review, the stated Forest Service objective as contained in the Forest Service Manual is "to pro- vide wilderness and wild areas, within the multiple-use concept of management, sufficient in number and size to accommodate present and future needs." Here is an optimum. We now require some criteria for determining present and future pgggg and the size and number of such areas which will be sufficient to fulfill these needs. Let us review the criteria provided for Forest Service institutionalized wilderness allocation decision making. In general, forest officers are given the task—-a suboptimum really--of analyzing p11 "public values" and determining the highest public value. They are told that the appraisal must be carefully made and that if the area studied is "predominantly valuable for wilderness and needed for that purpose" it should be allocated to wilderness. One decision rule that is somewhat more concrete is to withhold development in case of doubt as to the relative values of the alternatives. Questions raised by these general rules are: (1) How are we to define "public"? and (2) How do we measure the values of the wilderness alterna- tives and the alternatives to wilderness so that all alterna— tives can be compared? 559 "Criteria" are specifically set forth in the Forest Service Manual as if in response to the above questions. The "criteria" are: l. "Inherent qualities" of wilderness must be present. 2. Clear evidence of present and future "need" for wilderness must exist. 3. Highest and best public use over a long period of time must be represented by wilderness. 4. The values of the alternatives to wilderness must be fully offset by values attributable to wilderness. These include the "intangible" as well as the "tangible" values. These "criteria" are, however, also suboptima. Questions begged include: 1. What are inherent wilderness characteristics? 2. How do we measure need for wilderness? 3. How do we judge highest and best public use? 4. How long is a long period of time? 5. How do we measure and compare tangible and intangible values? Because these "criteria" raise difficult questions which have apparently escaped explicit and universally acceptable answers, the entire decision making process is often called into question. Critics complain that too much personal discretion (with the implicit complaint of "bias") is used in these decisions. They question the integrity of the agency as well as that of the individual decision maker. 560 A search of the record of the allocation cases themselves reveals few explicit wilderness criteria. Rather, decisions have been made and the criteria must be inferred from them. The arguments of the prowilderness rationale contain more evidence of criteria, but these also turn out to be suboptima rather than operational criteria. Perhaps the most important of these-~and they seem to have been accepted by administrators-—are four contained in the listing of wilderness issues in chapter II: 1. Minority rights. 2. Vicarious use. 3. Freedom of choice. 4. Sanctuary, sanity and health. A fifth might be another from the same listing labeled "Science and the Control-Plot Notion." In all of these arguments, a process of choice is implied. Too frequently, however, the decision that is requested poses the issue as a choice between different values (e.g., economic vs. noneconomic) rather than a choice between land use alternatives, each of which yields varying levels of various values. While it may seem in some cases that the relevant alternatives may reduce the issue largely to a choice between an alternative yielding mainly economic values and one yielding noneconomic values, this is not a useful generalization. Objectives and criteria for choice must be open enough to accept all kinds of values and maintain the focus on land use alternatives and not value alternatives. The question thus arises, Are there any explicit, opera- tional objectives and criteria for institutionalized wilderness 561 which can be used? The answer is both "yes" and "no." It is "yes” in terms of suboptima (witness, for example, the several economics methodologies and welfare concepts outlined above). It is "no" in the sense that we can pin down in a neat, schematic way criteria which are weighted average objectifications of all "public" values so that we may weigh all alternatives on the same value scale. It is the opinion of the author that there is no substitute for the judgment of the wilderness allocation decision maker in filling the role of the "grand criterion." Society has allowed, and encouraged, the development of such decision making agencies as the Forest Service. The individuals Within the agency have been given a mandate by society through the agency to make certain decisions. These decisions are the job of the individual and he must execute them. If his decisions are "bad," pressures will be exerted to change them. Countervail- ing pressures may also be generated. In short, the Rothenberg welfare criterion is employed here. In this scheme, the rules of conduct of the decision maker are to clearly identify the relevant alternatives and to objectify all relevant suboptima and choice criteria. If his decision is a "good" one, his role will remain flexible and viable. If it is not, changes in decisions will be sought, and the role may become circumscribed by an increasing number of inflexible rules. 562 Wilderness Values A few final impressions of wilderness values are offered here. A distinction that can be made is that between "values received" by the wilderness user and the value placed on these values by the allocation decision maker. This distinction is a necessary consequence of the position of the decision maker who must consider the "values" received by all users 53d those who derive values from alternative uses of these lands. He must decide on the relative importance of these values in those cases where the alternatives force such comparisons. A good deal has been written about the noneconomic benefits and values of wilderness. Those who write about and discuss the cultural, esthetic, moral, etc. values of wilderness gen- erally do so as if those who had the allocation decision to make were entirely unaware of them; or, if not unaware, inclined to treat such values lightly. This attitude is particularly evident in the characterizations of professional foresters who have these kinds of allocation decisions to make as only "sawlog" foresters or "woods butchers." It is also evident in the arguments illustrated by Goldsworthy's statement at the Glacier Peak hearings that forestry schools simply don't offer the kind of training required as background for such decisions. A brief rejoinder to these arguments is in order here. First, the author does not know foresters who are unaware of these values or who treat them lightly. 0n the contrary, most foresters seem to be strongly attracted to them. The problem arises in making these values operationally demonstrable. 563 Critical wilderness proponents have yet to provide the land use decision maker with more than a ballot box and a bundle of exhortations and rhetoric. Perhaps nothing more is required, but this is yet to be demonstrated. As far as the proper font of learning is concerned, it is submitted that there are op- portunities during the forester's undergraduate, graduate and postgraduate days to explore philosophy and the arts. Yet, one may wonder if there really is a formal curriculum which teaches one how to make such decisions. The situation becomes somewhat like that posed by Ryle (1958) who observed that while "virtue" is a universal "good," there are no courses in "virtue" in college. In spite of these problems, and deficiencies on the part of the forester-decision maker, a considerable amount of land has been allocated to wilderness against the arguments of the so-called commercial interests. Furthermore, a greater amount of land has not been developed, even though not formally dedicated to wilderness, partly out of the regard held by these decision makers for the ideas characterizing wilderness. A wide range of economic values can be measured which stem from wilderness use activities and are consequences of the allocation decision. Methods of measurement and use of such values have been outlined above. The author chose to be mainly descriptive of the alternatives and offered no strong endorse- ment of any method for the reason that all methods might be employed depending upon the purpose of the economic analysis, the availability of data and the relative importance of the 564 kinds of answers possible in view of the particular case at hand. As noted above, then, the methodologies are like a smorgasbord to which the decision maker may come and choose. In spite of the attempt to be mainly descriptive, the author's bias in favor of those methods like the national income, value- added, and interindustry relations studies may be apparent. This bias is based upon the belief that these methodologies offer explicit means for exploring most of the relevant economic consequences of such allocation decisions which are characterized by externalities (i.e., the impacts outside the bounded area) and with strong national as well as local consequences. With some assumptions about distributive effects, these measures can be used in making judgments about resource allocation efficiency from a rather broad viewpoint. The Choice Process Chapter I contained a rather lengthy outlining of the mainstream of "decision making" theory. It's mathematical and statistical bias was strongly underscored. This was presented to Suggest the quality of the topic and was not rigorously pursued in the body of the analysis for two reasons: (1) much of the technique of decision making analysis escapes the author's competence in this area, and (2) it was felt that too little was known about the actual wilderness allocation process to select useful or relevant models for application at the outset of this evaluation. 565 The process for allocating land to wilderness, especially in the Pacific Northwest, is now generally apparent. Areas are selected, alternative boundaries are chosen, facts are gathered and a choice is made. However, we are still left with the question asked in chapter I which is, in effect: Has this inductive study provided a better basis for making wilderness land allocation decisions? The author again prefers an ambivalent ' and "no." First of all, the actual mental answer of "ye§ processes of the decision makers in such cases have not been demonstrated. Only weak inferences are possible. However, whether this kind of demonstration would be particularly worth- while is a debatable matter. Apparently "good" decisions have been made even when the ”best" of data were unavailable, and it does not require knowledge of the precise mental processes to develop apparently useful data. Furthermore, this study has not discovered the existence of a choice mechanism, crude or refined, which will objectively and explicitly handle simul- taneously the various kinds of data generated for the wilder- ness allocation decision. In these two respects, the answer to the question is "no." Nevertheless, an examination of several allocation cases reveals that improvements can be made in data gathering and objectifying the choice mechanism. It is inferred that these improvements will certainly not harm the decision making process, and, in fact, may improve it even though the amount of improvement is not demonstrable. Use of explicit economic 566 valuation and choice techniques is one area in which substantial improvement can be made. A simple, two-valued choice system was presented in figure 51 to illustrate the emphasis that seems appropriate for this kind of allocation problem. Economic and noneconomic values are used together to compare land use alternatives. 0f more importance, however, is the use of this device to express in an explicit way the relative importance, as seen by the decision maker, of the various aspects of the problem. It is inferred that this will more clearly reveal the relative desirabilities of alternatives and provide a more concrete basis for discussion. Recommendations Recommendations devolving from this study have been implicitly and explicitly noted throughout the report. Any simple listing of recommendations at this stage would thus be anticlimactic. Nevertheless, two points will be stressed here. First, wilderness is probably best thought of as a dynamic concept giving rise to many values which vary in intensity or level according to the individual involved. As such, it does not lend itself to ready recognition except through institu— tionalized objectification of all these values in bounded units of topography which are given the name "wilderness." The problems which arise as a result of the dichotomous relationship of concept and areal perceptiveness appear highly related to a proclivity to ignore the dichotomy on the part of the administrator 567 as well as the nonadministrator. Hence, a general recommenda- tion for all parties to the wilderness issue is to keep in mind that the relevance of their arguments lies not so much in the polish of their rhetoric, but in its demonstrable translation into areal consequences. There are few recommendations that can be given to adminis— trators that would not represent something already known or suspected. However, one point seems to stand out. This is that in the absence of a "grand criterion" for making decisions, the administrator must rely upon his own judgment and all of the relevant tools at his command for weighing facts. Since there is in fact no such " grand criterion" for making wilderness land allocations, the decision maker must deliberately weigh facts and just as deliberately make a leap of faith into the decision. Welfare criteria suggest that the viable decision making agent and agency is a manifestation of social preference. The history of wilderness allocation suggests that social preferences have indeed been built into the way in which decisions have been made for allocating land to wilderness. This is not to say that the preferences are static, for they are not. Such changing preferences are forcing more difficult choices on the decision makers. Hence, there should be a continuing search for new tools for measuring facts. Both the old and new tools of economics could be used more they have been in the past. Anonymous. 1960. 1960. 1960. Adams, G. 1948. Adams, K. 1956. Albright, 1960. Alvarado, 1962. LITERATURE CITED New Glacier Peak Wilderness brings both commendation and criticism. Sierra Club Bul. 45(7): 3-5, illus. Operation multiple use: What's happening to forest wilderness? Sierra Club Bul. 45(5): 10-11, illus. Wilderness needs a multiple use hearing. Sierra Club Bul. 45(5): 2, illus. P. Man and metaphysics. 162 pp. New York: Columbia Univ. Press. A. Multiple use on private lands. Amer. 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