Since the 1964 Wilderness Act was signed into law,
the debate over America’s last remaining wild
places hasn’t simmered down. In fact, it’s
boiled over as more people want more things from
the pieces of public land that remain.
The rocky desert surrounding
Idaho’s Owyhee River, where some NOLS students
learn paddling skills, is front-and-center in today’s tough battles over
land use in the West. But in this 9 million-acre stretch of sagebrush, canyons
and mountains, groups that haven’t always seen eye-to-eye are using a
surprising word in the heated debate over public land use: compromise. Ranchers,
conservation groups, county officials and recreationists are discovering that
if they don’t work together in the Owyhee, they might lose everything.
For the past 30 years, the fiercest battle in the
Owyhee has centered around cattle grazing. Environmentalists
have stood on one side of the fence, fighting to
protect public rangelands from overgrazing, while
ranchers have taken a stand on the other side of
the issue, struggling to keep the land that’s
been their livelihood for generations. Meanwhile, neither group has gotten
what they want. Environmental groups have been unable to successfully designate
part of the Owyhee as official wilderness, and ranchers have waited in limbo
to secure their grazing leases. The result was multiple-use madness.
But two years ago, all of these parties sat down
together and formed a joint group called the Owyhee
Initiative. What they’ve done has angered hard-liners
on either side of the debate, but it has provided an example of one way to
settle today’s complicated land use disputes. In April, the group announced
its proposal for the Owyhee region, which they claim will protect wilderness,
economic viability and a rural way of life. Sen. Mike Crapo, R-Idaho, has offered
to carry this citizen proposal to Congress.
The plan calls for a
510,000-acre wilderness proposal and 392 miles of
river protections. A proposed conservation and research
center will undertake new projects on wildlife habitat
protection, invasive species and water quality throughout
the region. On the other hand, the proposal also
recommends the designation of certain areas where
motorized travel is allowed, and the conversion of
some wilderness study areas into non-wilderness
to allow for multiple uses like grazing.
What the Owyhee Initiative has attempted is a tall
order, especially for people who feel passionate
about maintaining the integrity of the 1964 Wilderness
Act. Many are asking, “Is wilderness too valuable to compromise for?” What
complicates matters more is that today the U.S. is a very different place than
it was in 1964 — there’s less public land available, but more people
with more ideas on how to manage it. This dilemma is especially true with areas
like the Owyhee that aren’t hard-to-access mountain environments, but
rather low-elevation lands in high demand for all kinds of purposes.
Another obstacle facing today’s would-be wilderness areas is in Washington,
D.C., where the Interior Department has eliminated protection for many proposed
wilderness areas in Utah and other Western states. Previously, areas that have “wilderness
qualities” have been granted some temporary protection until their status
can be determined. But that policy has been kicked out, and that means areas
like the Owyhee that are on hold for wilderness designation are vulnerable.
It’s no surprise that the fate of our public lands is an uneasy dispute
to settle. After all, there are 280 million Americans who own wild places such
as the Owyhee. What conservation organizations are essentially trying to do
is save what’s left, which is a very different mission than what the
signers of the Wilderness Act had in mind. As more of these battles are waged
across the country, we must ask ourselves if it takes more courage to take
a stand, or to compromise.