Rethinking One of America’s Most Beloved Environmental Agencies

C+S 2020 students are blogging about topics that interest them for Applications in Climate and Society, a core spring class.

Most environmentalists, tourists, American citizens, and indigenous communities likely agree on one thing: the ecological value of undeveloped land. But recently, I started to wonder, who these “protected areas” truly benefit, how their territorial boundaries are defined, and at what cost? As I dove deeper into the historical context of the National Park Service, I found myself thinking more about the colonial legacy of acquiring these lands for “public use.”

Although several of my past trips to parks involved whitewater rafting in Yellowstone and sightseeing in the Rocky Mountains, these questions never occurred to me. I only began to critically assess these world-renowned landmarks during my recent cross-country trip to visit a few national parks and other sites out West. I found that land use is dominated by powerful political and economic interests. This became strikingly clear to me at Monument Valley, a tribal park under Navajo Nation governance. On a guided tour of all the notable Hollywood film spots, I started to become increasingly aware of the fact that recreation and conservation have different meanings to different groups. A viewscape that I might recognize as a unique geological formation is someone else's ancestral homeland or place of worship.

The National Park Service was founded in 1916, with the intention of protecting natural landscapes under its purview like Yellowstone and Yosemite for “public use, resort and recreation.” These parks quickly became a symbol of national heritage and pride for many Americans, a sentiment that remains attached to parks for many to this day. Early national parks were non-utilitarian in the sense that they were set aside, not for industrial purposes, but rather for entertainment and preservation for future generations. Designated nature sanctuaries allow a channel for people to escape densely populated cities or suburbs and reconnect with nature.

Although boundaries were drawn around select landscapes to conserve them, there were financial motives as well. The U.S. federal government saw profitability through a “practical interest in recreational tourism” to America’s grand scenic areas. There is this widespread notion that these protected areas display our national commitment to conservation, and that NPS land management tactics are a positive step in the right direction towards sustainability initiatives.

Although this establishment marked a huge achievement for the environmental movement, the shadow of human rights violations committed by those who are largely considered “heroes” of this cause hovers over it. When people celebrate all Teddy Roosevelt did for conservation, they don’t talk about his rampant hunting habits and hateful remarks towards American Indians. And when John Muir is held up for his contributions to natural science literature, many seem to forget that Yosemite was stolen from the Ahwahneechee Tribe via bloody imperial conquest. State expropriation leading to forced and oftentimes violent displacement of indigenous communities is a recurring theme throughout American history and westward expansion, including national parks.

Conflicting views of “recreation” has in turn led to preferential treatment of western culture, which usually ends up undermining long held Native American traditions. The outcome of the dispute over Devils Tower in Wyoming provides a palpable example of this. Controversy arose in 2017 between tourists and a local indigenous community over usage of a sacred Native American site, which doubles as a federally recognized monument. Mountaineers refused to abide by a temporary climbing ban during seasonal tribal ceremonies. In short, tourism took priority over spiritual purposes.

The debate over how to best address climate change has society re-evaluating land use and natural resource management. Both actions on behalf of local communities and indigenous knowledge are crucial components to successfully restore ecosystems. Yet the voices of tribal members are largely absent in policymaking.

After spending a few days at “Goulding's Lodge”—a former white settler owned trading post turned Monument Valley tourist resort—I realized the dire need for a paradigm shift. As land resource management evolves with climate variability and change, we need to look at shared governance of protected areas as well as reparations for past atrocities. The process of reconciliation and implementing holistic land management practices will be long and challenging, as it entails acknowledging and reversing centuries of oppression, all while attempting to build trust.

Through transparent education about this country’s historical brutality towards indigenous populations, we could better address the current social and environmental inequities while simultaneously improving community resilience. Climate justice should be at the forefront of policy-making to ensure that human rights are not compromised as conditions worsen globally.