Letting Mother Nature Reign

From the very beginning, the legal mission of the National Park Service has suffered from an inherent conflict. The service was charged by Congress with preserving the parks in their natural state for the appreciation of future generations of Americans. At the same time, the service was to make the parks accessible for the enjoyment of Americans here and now.

Underlying legality, though, was a basic logic: If the parks are despoiled through injudicious use now, they cannot be preserved in their natural state for the future. Until recently, the Park Service and its parent, the Department of Interior, followed this logic to the benefit of both the people and the parks. If a use was incompatible with park appreciation, it was not allowed.

Some years back, the Park Service quit the traditional nightly firefall from Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park. At dark the embers of a bonfire would be sent cascading thousands of feet down the rock face in a sparkling counterpoint to Yosemite Falls across the valley. While the firefall was extremely popular, the service properly decided that it was inconsistent with the proper enjoyment and preservation of Yosemite’s natural wonders.

Today, however, the Interior Department has retreated from that view. Emphasis appears to be placed on the greatest pleasure for the greatest number of people. Interpretation of the parks’ natural features by expert rangers has been deemphasized.

This shift has caused considerable alarm among veteran park officials, but when they dared to voice their alarm in public they were punished or muzzled. Interior officials try to pretend that there is no dispute, or treat the fuss as nothing more than bureaucratic whining. But the words of Interior Secretary Donald P. Hodel reveal the extent of the official shift in park philosophy.

For example, Hodel defends the growing number of sightseeing flights in the Grand Canyon and rejects the complaints about aircraft noise as the selfish babbling of “elitists.” He asks rhetorically if the gripes of 30 or 40 backpackers deep in the canyon should be given more weight than the right of thousands to buzz the canyon at an eagle’s-eye level from airplanes and helicopters. To Hodel the answer clearly is no.

But he ignores the fact that thousands of visitors viewing a canyon sunset from the rim might find the noise offensive, or that the mere idea of airplanes flying at or below the rim violates absolutely the reason Grand Canyon is a park at all. Hodel argues there cannot be a “meat-ax approach” to what one can and cannot do in the parks, to what activities are and are not allowed. Demands must be balanced, he says.

Rubbish. Like it or not, there must be a meat-ax approach. The lines have to be drawn somewhere. Those who want to stand in awe of America’s natural wonders, and to gain knowledge and strength and humility from the experience, must do so in a way that respectfully preserves these special places for their children and their grandchildren. Those who want manufactured entertainment and high-speed thrills should try the nearest amusement park.