R.J.
Hudson
University of Alberta
Like
democracy and national parks, wildlife policy in
Ours is a reactive policy; reactive to the European aristocratic tradition, and
reactive to the commercially-motivated depletion of wildlife at the close of
the last century and the antithesis of the supposedly aristocratic and
artificial systems of Europe. We have, it seems, learned slowly but well from
past mistakes. This is the thrust of our familiar but stirring story of
conservation.
This
view seems reasonable enough. We live in a Malthusian world of compounding
demographic and technological pressures which place ourselves on a collision
course with nature. Human populations passed 5 billion last summer and will
reach 8 billion early in the next century. This, along with rising
technological capacity and personal expectations, has placed enormous stress on
the earth's life-support systems. The current rate of extinction of one species
per day may well increase to several per hour by the turn of the century.

But, we apparently also consider that Man, besides becoming more populous, is
evolving culturally, morally, and intellectually. The crucial question, we
muse, is whether we can become wise enough and moral enough fast enough. We may
see this as re-capturing the ecological respect of aboriginal societies, or
perhaps developing a new age of ecological enlightenment which builds on
accumulated cultural wisdom.
If this model were appropriate and if we could win this race against time, we
could take pride in offering the world a refreshing alternative to
"conservation by utilization". But what if we are wrong and fail to capitalise on the most reliable of
human motivations; namely, self- interest?
There are dangers in managing the way we think the world should be rather than
how it really is. There is more to it than working towards some personal vision
that others do not necessarily share. Billed as eternal pessimists, wildlife
professionals might be considered naively optimistic about human nature.
Environmentalism based on moral gratification will be about as effective in
protecting nature as organized religions are in ensuring world peace. Ethics
may be defined as rules of behaviour that protect longterm interests, immediate or local trade-offs to the
contrary. However, ethics may be perceived as devices for people who benefit
from conservation to control the lives of those who do not.
I consider the prevailing environmental paradigm vain and particularly
inappropriate where land is in private hands. Foolish pride has robbed us of
the flexibility required to meet future challenges. In an attempt to
appropriately humble our noble profession, I offer three generalizations.
First, this is not the first time that societies have faced an
environmental crisis nor devised institutions to deal with it. Secondly,
"modern" attitudes towards nature were well differentiated in the
ancient world. They reflected largely how people lived and appear to be more of
a sympton than a solution to environmental problems.
Thirdly, North American Wildlife policy, far from being a brave new experiment,
is remarkably similar to that of 9th Century Europe. Perhaps for good reason,
European policies (which we view with some disdain) have evolved beyond simple state
ownership to a complex triangular relationship among the state, landowners, and
the public.
Although
global populations have increased exponentially from perhaps 200 million at the
time of Christ (Goudie 1986), Europeans have
surpassed carrying capacity several times in recorded history, experiencing
major demographic crashes in the 5th and 14th Centuries.
Although
local pressures undoubtedly mounted much earlier, the first references to
environmental degradation date to 500 BC in the Mediterranean city states
(Hughes 1980). Farmers found it increasingly difficult to extract a living from
the land. There was widespread belief in the passing of a Golden Age because of
the natural senility of Mother Earth. In de Rerum Naturae (The Nature of Things), the Epicurean philosopher, Lucretius (95-55 BC) wrote:
She herself [earth] produced sweet fruits and fertile
pastures, which now can scarce grow anything, for all our toil. And we exhaust
our oxen and our farmers' strength, we wear out plowshares in the fields that
barely feed us, so much do they begrudge their fruits and increase our labor.
... The gloomy grower of the old and withered vines sadly curses the times he
lives in, and wearies heaven, not realizing that all is gradually decaying,
nearing the end, worn out by the long span of years. (from
Herlihy 1980)
Others from Plato (427-347 BC) to Columella (65 AD)
countered this environmental fatalism, decrying soil erosion due to poor land
management. Columella questions the conventional
analogy of Mother Earth and a human mother:
For it is a sin to suppose that Nature, endowed with perennial fertility by
the creator of the universe, is affected with barrenness as though with some
disease ... has grown old in mortal fashion. (from Glacken 1967)
Populations pressures mounted most seriously in cities
which faced the familiar problems of traffic congestion, smoke pollution, poor
sanitation, incessant noise, and increasing vandalism and crime. Family
planning was sanctioned. Polybius (ca 122 BC)
indicated that Greek women married late and had small families to minimize
subdivision of inheritances. The Roman poet Ovid added "rare is the
woman in this age who wishes to become a mother". Infanticide and
non-reproductive sex were widely practiced without inciting indignation.
Then as now, imbalances of populations and resources were resolved by
imperialism. Alexander the Great (before his death in 323 BC) extended
Hellenistic influence through Asia Minor to Egypt and India. Roman emperors
expanded their empires into Gaul and Britain in 58-51 BC. With these new
resources, a period of relative stability and economic prosperity followed.
However, the problem with imperialism is that it only buys time. As the
centuries passed, civilisation filled the known world
leading Tertullian (ca 200 AD) to express the
thoroughly modern sentiment that:
Everything has been visited, everything known, everything exploited. Now
pleasant estates obliterate the famous wilderness areas of the past. Plowed
fields have suppressed the forests; domesticated animals have dispersed wild
life. Beaches are plowed, mountains smoothed, and swamps cleaned. There are as
many cities as in former years there were dwellings ... Everywhere there are
buildings, everywhere people, everywhere communities, everywhere life. ... We
weigh heavily upon the world; its resources hardly suffice to support us. As
our needs grow larger, so do our protests that already nature does not sustain
us. In truth, plague, famine, wars and earthquakes must be regarded as a
blessing to civilization since they prune away the luxuriant growth of the
human race. (from Herlihy
1980)
Tertullian's
words were prophetical. All this was dismantled with the fall of Rome and the
subsequent Barbarian Migrations (375-568). Rural landscapes were depopulated
from plague, war, disruption of trade, and loss of economic opportunity.
Although the breakdown of order and renewed subsistence dependence on wildlife
might have increased harvests, natural regeneration of forests in the ensuing
centuries presumably allowed some recovery.
In the 8th Century, the Frankish Kings consolidated an empire of crowded but
isolated settlements in a sylvan sea. Aided by climatic warming from the
8th-12th Centuries and the restoration of order, agriculture pushed back the
forest fringe. The pace quickened with growing demands for iron smelting,
glassworks, timber, fuelwood, and grazing. Human
populations tripled in the 12-13th Centuries.
This set the stage for an unprecedented ecological crisis. Forest clearance
created shortages of the many products upon which communities depended. In
1315-17, cold summers precipitated famine and warned of what was to follow.
Environmental pressures were summarily relieved not by sound management but by
the Black Death in 1348 which claimed 1 out of 4 lives.
Recovery
from this 14th Century hiatus was slow. In some parts of Europe, populations
did not recover to Medieval levels until the middle of
the 19th Century. But by 1600, declining standards of living and grim economic
prospects encouraged aggressive international trade and ultimately colonial
expansion.
This wave of imperialism allowed relatively sustained prosperity in the western
world and unprecedented population growth which persists today depite interruptions by an economic depression, global
conflict, and widespread famine in developing nations. Our fortunes seem to be
changing and we face prospects not unlike those of the 5th and 14th Centuries.
Not surprisingly, our attitudes recapitulate those of the past although
telescoped by rapid demographic and technological change.
We
may find it hard to accept that our view of nature simply reflects how we live
rather than careful intellectual analysis of accumulated knowlege.
But almost every contemporary conservation issue has been argued in about the
same way throughout recorded history (Glacken 1967,
Hughes 1980, Herlihy 1980). Chic attitudes such as
sustainable development and deep ecology, supposedly the way out of our present
mess, are reincarnations of ancient natural philosophies.
Although
labelled slightly differently, Hughes (1980) discerns
4 dominant attitudes towards nature in Antiquity:
The religious tradition had its origins in a pantheon of
classical Greek/Roman deities such as Gaea/Tellus
(earth goddess), Demeter/Ceres (goddess of agriculture), and particularly
Artemis/Diana (protectress of wildlife). Fear of
divine reprisal provided an incentive for conservation. Artemis, in classical
mythology, punished hunters who took sacred animals, killed too many, or hunted
in sacred places. She exacted the most severe punishment on Actaeon
who, for "viewing her nakedness" (asking too many questions?),
was turned into a stag and torn apart by his own hounds.
Hunters often spared animals of specific ages and sexes in religious deference.
The state also proclaimed sacred precincts (temene/templa)
which served as nature reserves. Like contemporary national parks, these were
not beyond commercial influence. Xenophon (ca 300 BC)
indicated that temene could be leased near Athens for
specific purposes, and Juvenal lamented that many in the vicinity of Rome were
being rented by foreigners. Nevertheless, religious sanctions particularly when
reinforced with legal ones provided an important instrument for nature
conservation.
The
Orphic tradition, originating in the 7th century BC, takes its name from
Orpheus, its presumed founder. This philosophy was expoused
by nature mystics such as Pythagorus (ca 530 BC) and
Empedocles (493-433 BC). They taught that all life was sacred and that Man did
not hold any particular position in the hierarchy of nature. Like practitioners
of the great eastern religions, they were strict vegetarians, believing in the
sanctity of life and transmigration of souls.
The
collaborative tradition builds upon Aristotle's pyramidal
("aristocratic") view of nature. Lower animals served those above
them in a pyramid topped by Man. By extension, nature became the raw material
for man's handiwork, a view which predominates western
attitudes and religions and is presumed to be the root of today's ecological
crisis (White 1967).
However, this anthrocentric view did imply
stewardship. Zeno's (335- 263 BC) widely-accepted stoic philosophy taught that
nature was controlled by divine reason and that man's reason was a spark of
that divine force. Therefore, the practical goals of men should be, in the
words of Posidonius, to "work jointly with
nature in the actual formation and ordering of the Cosmos". Stoics also
believed in the universal brotherhood of man and the ideal of living
harmoniously under one polity. One people, one earth.
This provided moral justification for the campaigns of Alexander and Caesar.
The
ancient world was not without its environmental activists. Plato was among
these, expressing his alarm about the effects of deforestation. Columella
admonished Roman citizens for plying their "hands in the circuses and
theatres rather than in the grainfields and
vineyards" and for failing to carefully husband the soil. But the
loudest protests were of urban ills. Public works projects precipitated a
thoroughly modern range of objections.
Herlihy
(1980) finds a progression of four cultural attitudes during the next millenium:
The
religious tradition of the 3-5th Centuries was largely eschatological,
concerned with the ultimate destiny of man. In the formative years of the
Christian church, nature was as source of inspiration. But in later years,
preoccupation with Judgement Day robbed people of joy
on earth. Whereas the Ancients accepted that the earth was growing old, those
in the Middle Ages interpreted famine and hardship as
divine retribution. Such fatalistic attitudes gave little encouragement for
creative conservation effort. Attention turned to burning witches.
The
adversarial tradition of the 6-10th Centuries is captured in the epic Anglo
Saxon poem Beowulf which pitches Man in a heroic struggle with Nature. Forests,
the antithesis of civilized life, were dark forboding
places full of dangerous wild animals, theives, and
demonic forces.
The
lifting of religious fatalism in the 11-14th Centuries brought a more positive
collaborative attitude, not unlike that guiding Stoics
in the Ancient World. This was a period of renewed commerce and optimism
although increasingly frequent famines and the Black Death brought a return to
patristic views of a senile world and divine retribution.
The
contemplative tradition, based on similar optimism, developed in parallel.
People from the crowded cities of Europe found solace in unspoiled nature and
wrote with rapture of its spiritual and recreational value. Even the church
seems to have lightened its view of the stage for man's earthly audition. St.
Bernard (1091-1153) wrote:
I have discovered that you will find far more in the forest than in the
books; trees and stones will teach you what no teacher permits you to hear. (from Glacken 1967)
Imperialism
by western powers created an affluence which allowed people to appreciate the
intrinsic as well as instrumental value of nature. The 19th Century is
considered the heyday of natural history (Barker 1980). Linnaeus' Sytema Naturae (1758/9) had given
new respectability to nature study and created a fascination with biological
diversity and the new dominions offered many new species to be discovered. A centruy later, Darwin's theory of natural selection
cultivated intense interest in species as parts of a larger puzzle. Marsh's Man
and Nature (1864) introduced the ecological theme of interconnectedness,
castigating American views of progress. This wave of environmentalism was
translated into political action at the turn of this century. But it lost
momentum during two world wars and the intervening economic depression.
The most recent wave of environmental awareness is said to have been conceived
with Rachel Carson's Silent Spring in 1962 and symbolically born on Earth Day,
22 April 1970. Chase (1986) searches for the origins of the
movement in a variety of off-beat philosophies and religions. But
stripped of their detail, modern attitudes differ little from those of the past
in character or impact. Far from developing a new natural philosophy, the
struggle among alternative paradigms simply continues. Contemporary
environmentalists wishing to impose moral sanctions on the use of the earth's
resources draw on the ancient Orphic tradition. Those preaching stewardship and
sustainable development express the environmental optimism of the Stoics. A
3000-year old debate continues.

That
the future of wildlife rests in shaping human attitudes is an article of faith.
This has always troubled me since I don't see evidence that prevailing notions
of the correct relation between Man and Nature have ever been very powerful
instruments. They may be more of a symptom than a solution. More important are
specific policies and practices.
With
the rise of democracy in the ancient world, hunting became the right of free
citizens. It was considered a good way to develop military skills and therefore
officially encouraged although some, such as the Greek archon Solon (ca 594 BC), felt that passion for hunting caused young men to neglect
their trades. According to Roman law, game was considered res
nullius, literally things unowned (Whittuck 1904). We like to think this legal status limited
private ownership, but it simply described natural circumstances, placing
wildlife in the same category as things abandoned or discarded. Things found
could be owned by possession. Wildlife could be possessed once killed or
captured.
Private game reserves gained popularity in ancient times. The Greek term theriotrophia describes mammal feeding grounds.
Aristotle canvassed owners of these private reserves to obtain information for
his biological writings. Aristotle also speaks of a mountain in Asia Minor
where deer carried ear marks presumably denoting ownership. In the Roman
Empire, wildlife was raised for recreational and commercial purposes in vivaria or leporia (literally
rabbit-raising areas but also used for wild boar, deer, mouflon,
and exotic game). Pliny credits Quintus Fulvius Lippinus with introducing game husbandry. Varro (116-27 BC) explains that it gained popularity in the
previous generation (i.e. 200 BC) in response to declining game populations:
Your father, Axius, never saw any better game than
a paltry hare. For in his day there was no great preserve, whereas nowadays
people enclose many acres within walls so as to keep numbers of wild boars and
roes ...(from Anderson 1985)
The technology of game husbandry in the ancient world is described in great
detail in Columella's de Rustica,
written about 65 AD (Forster and Heffner 1968). Pliny comments on the
therapeutic value of venison and, of particular interest, antlers:
People say the stag's right horn, which is endowed with some sort of healing
drug, is never found; and this must be confessed to be the more surprising in
view of the fact that even stags kept in parks change their horns every year;
it is thought that they bury them. The smell of either horn when burnt arrests
attacks of epilepsy.
The animal is not liable to feverish diseases - indeed it even supplies a
prophylactic against their attack; .... though it is thought that this only holds good if the stag
has been killed by a single wound.
Recreational
hunting, including the raising of deer in parks, remained popular through the Mediaeval period. The rise of the royal prerogative and the
entrenchment of the aristocratic hunting tradition is the part we conveniently
remember. The story, of course, is much more richer
(Kirby 1931, Kirby and Kirby 1933, Wolfe 1970, Cantor 1988).
Charlemagne
(768-814 AD) is credited with introducing the Forest Laws. He responded to the
need for more careful management by allocating land on the principle of
"highest and best use". He encouraged forest clearing on arable lands
but protected production forests (sylva), and wildlands (foresta), managing
them much like our crown/public lands.
By asserting state ownership, pressures could be controlled, sustainability
ensured, and the royal treasury could be filled with fees from leases and
permits. Although the right to hunt some game species was reserved for the
monarch through an extended interpretation of res
nullius, the prime motivation of the Forest Laws was as much sustainable utilisation as royal recreation. Cutting trees without
authorization, in many jurisdictions, was a more serious crime than poaching.
The system was practical and humane at the time and it bears a remarkable
resemblance to our own. Policies were defended with familiar conservation
rhetoric. Besides being essential for conservation and indeed the economic
future of the realm, the Forest Laws ensured that common folk didn't neglect
their trades, and prevented local insurrection by limiting the distribution of
weapons.
But as time passed and pressures mounted, tougher measures were needed.
Charlemagne's successor, Louis the Pious, felt justified in requiring his
subjects to provide, without compensation, services in maintaining royal game
parks. This trend hastened as the Frankish Empire fragmented and provincial
sovereigns became increasingly independent. Local princes sometimes applied the
Forest Laws capriciously and harshly but, they claimed, in the common good.
William
of Normandy, of Viking ancestry, was one of these princes. Following the Battle
of Hastings in 1066, William I and his successors established a large network
of royal forests, evicting many of his subjects by right of conquest. By 1200,
this network covered perhaps 20% of the area of
Abuse of power was finally curbed with the signing of the Magna Charta (main
charter) by King John. Two years later, the child king Henry III, endorsed a
subsidiary charter dealing specifically with forest laws, the Charta di Foresta, which provided that:
God created man, giving him power over fish, fowl and all wild animals.
Therefore, we have the commandment from God that no man shall lose his health
or life on account of these things.
This provision generally has been respected in countries basing their legal
systems on British law. The notable exceptions have been
Pressures
on forests to meet agricultural and commercial needs continued to increase,
although depopulation of
James
I (crowned 1603) of the House of Stuart and his successor, Charles I, attempted
to reassert the royal hunting prerogative and revive a delapitated
game management system. James I reclaimed royal game throughout the realm,
banned commercial sale of wildlife, and insisted that local gentlemen remedy
scarcity of game in some counties. He administered this system with an army of
officials, including foresters, warreners, warders,
parkers, gamekeepers, and others. James also appointed gentlemen as regional
superintendents, rewarding them with hunting privileges. However, this
aggressive conservation program came to an abrupt end with the civil war of
1642-48.
When Charles II was restored to the throne in 1660, he restocked forests and
parks with large numbers of deer imported from
With
industrialization, political influence shifted from the landed gentry to the
urban entrepreneurial class. In 1831, all property qualifications were finally
removed although rights of access remained. This democratized hunting but
essentially left management of wildlife in the hands of landowners.
Although country gentlemen now had to share the hunt with all citizens,
democratization opened new economic opportunities at a time when wool and
mutton prices and consequently revenues from their estates were falling.
Particularly in the Scottish Highlands, hunting became so profitable and
popular that deer forests increased from 1,975,209 acres in 1884 to 2,878,342
by 1911, creating considerable hardship for the crofters employed by the sheep
industry (Orr 1982). At some social cost, landscape conservation was achieved.
Whereas democratization came in steps in
The right to hunt on alien property and compulsory services connected with
the chase are abolished without compensation. Henceforth, the right to hunt
shall be that of the landowner on his own property.
The German Revolution in 1848 lead to similar provisions (Wolfe 1970).
In the absence of land reform, hunting in
Wildlife
management in
I prefer to think that, in the long run, wildlife policy is an adaptive
response to particular problems. Democratization of hunting following
revolutions or colonization has repeatedly lead to
profound depletion. The initial response is for the state to claim ownership.
This was adaptive in the time of the God-Kings in
But another force in the evolution of wildlife policy almost certainly has been
the configuration of political power. The foundations of wildlife policy in
Why policies evolve, of course, is less important than whether they work. I see
our centralized system as being too inflexible to meet the challenge of
landscape conservation on private lands. I see the trend towards franchizing responsibilities for wildlife management to
public groups and landowners as a natural and adaptive response. Centralized
systems have always devolved in this way for the same reasons; namely,
difficulty curbing poaching on a vast public domain and difficulty diverting
royal appropriations from problems with a shorter fuse. In some circumstances,
wildlife conservation needs Adam Smith's invisible hand.
Debating privatisation is rather like debating the
use of drugs. Some forms of franchising help control markets, some provide
badly needed incentives to land owners, but others can be as deadly as cocaine.
In wildlife management as in medicine, to count on divine intervention is
negligent. In Islam, there is a saying: "trust in God, but tie your camel".
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