Saving Biological Diversity
Robert A. Askins · Glenn D. Dreyer · Gerald R. Visgilio · Diana M. Whitelaw Editors
Saving Biological Diversity Balancing Protection of Endangered Species and Ecosystems
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Editors Robert A. Askins Connecticut College 270 Mohegan Avenue New London, CT 06320-4196
Glenn D. Dreyer Connecticut College 270 Mohegan Avenue New London, CT 06320-4196
Gerald R. Visgilio Connecticut College 270 Mohegan Avenue New London, CT 06320-4196
Diana M. Whitelaw Connecticut College 270 Mohegan Avenue New London, CT 06320-4196
ISBN: 978-0-387-09566-0
e-ISBN: 978-0-387-09565-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2008928017 c 2008 Springer Science+Business Media, LLC All rights reserved. This work may not be translated or copied in whole or in part without the written permission of the publisher (Springer Science+Business Media, LLC, 233 Spring Street, New York, NY 10013, USA), except for brief excerpts in connection with reviews or scholarly analysis. Use in connection with any form of information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed is forbidden. The use in this publication of trade names, trademarks, service marks, and similar terms, even if they are not identified as such, is not to be taken as an expression of opinion as to whether or not they are subject to proprietary rights. Printed on acid-free paper springer.com
Preface
The Goodwin-Niering Center for Conservation Biology and Environmental Studies at Connecticut College is a comprehensive, interdisciplinary program that builds on one of the nation’s leading undergraduate environmental studies programs. The Center fosters research, education, and curriculum development aimed at understanding contemporary ecological challenges. One of the major goals of the Goodwin-Niering Center is to enhance the understanding of both the College community and the general public with respect to ecological, political, social, and economic factors that affect natural resource use and preservation of natural ecosystems. To this end, the Center has offered six conferences at which academicians, representatives of federal and state government, people who depend on natural resources for their living, and individuals from non-government environmental organizations were brought together for an in-depth, interdisciplinary evaluation of important environmental issues. On April 6 and 7, 2007, the Center presented the Elizabeth Babbott Conant interdisciplinary conference on Saving Biological Diversity: Weighing the Protection of Endangered Species vs. Entire Ecosystems. The Beaver Brook Foundation; Audubon Connecticut, the state office of the National Audubon Society; the Connecticut Chapter of The Nature Conservancy; Connecticut Forest and Park Association and the Connecticut Sea Grant College Program joined the Center as conference sponsors. During this two-day conference we learned about conservation and endangered species from a wide range of perspectives. Like all of the conferences sponsored by the Goodwin-Niering Center, this conference was broadly interdisciplinary, with presentations by economists, political scientists, and conservation biologists. Bryan Norton, Professor of Philosophy, Science and Technology at Georgia Institute of Technology, gave the keynote address Evaluation and Species Preservation, followed by the first session in which we examined the effectiveness and economics of endangered species protection. The second session focused on efforts to sustain biological diversity in entire ecosystems or across regional landscapes. The third session emphasized the best methods for protecting biological diversity on a global scale. The conference provided a broad overview of our current understanding of how to prevent extinction and sustain biological diversity. The audience included concerned citizens, NGO representatives and policymakers, and students and faculty from Connecticut College and other universities. This book, Saving Biological Diversity: Balancing Protection of Endangered Species and Ecosystems, is based on the papers presented at the conference. The Editors v
Acknowledgements
We greatly appreciate the financial support provided for the conference by Dr. Linda Lear (Elizabeth Babbott Conant Endowment); Audubon Connecticut, the state office of the National Audubon Society; the Connecticut Chapter of The Nature Conservancy; Connecticut Forest and Park Association; the Connecticut Sea Grant College Program; the Marjorie Dilley Fund; the Beaver Brook Foundation; the Connecticut College departments of Anthropology, Biology, Botany, Economics, Government, Philosophy; the Connecticut College Arboretum; the Environmental Studies Program; and the Office of the Dean of Faculty. Organization of this conference was only possible thanks to the ongoing support of the A.W. Mellon Foundation for the GoodwinNiering Center. We especially thank Patrick Comins, Director of Bird Conservation, Audubon Connecticut, and Adam Whelchel, Director of Conservation Science, The Nature Conservancy, for their assistance in planning and presenting the conference. We are grateful to the following faculty, staff and students of Connecticut College for their assistance in a number of ways including planning and carrying out the conference and writing, reviewing, editing and proofing chapters for this book: Robert Askins, Professor of Biology; Anne Bernhard, Assistant Professor of Biology; Jane Dawson, Professor of Government; Glenn Dreyer, Arboretum Director; Douglas Thompson, Professor of Geophysics; Derek Turner, Associate Professor of Philosophy; Gerald Visgilio, Professor of Economics; Diana Whitelaw, Associate Director of the Goodwin-Niering Center; Mary Villa, Center Assistant; and David Hecht ’07, Sara Jayanthi ’07, Christine Monahan ’07, Ceileigh Syme ’06, Jesse Taylor-Waldman ’07, Center students. During the preparation of this book, we greatly appreciate the assistance of many reviewers including: Peter Auster, Nels Barrett, MaryAnne Borrelli, Patrick Comins, John Gates, Brian Heninger, Chad Jones, Joan Trial, and John Volin. Finally, we are most grateful to all the contributing authors for their patience, understanding and professionalism during the long process of responding to comments and recommendations received during the review and editing phases of this book.
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Table of Contents
1 Saving Biological Diversity: An Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Glenn D. Dreyer
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Part I Protecting Populations of Particular Species 2 Toward a Policy-Relevant Definition of Biodiversity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Bryan G. Norton 3 Navigating for Noah: Setting New Directions for Endangered Species Protection in the 21st Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Karin P. Sheldon 4 Economics of Protecting Endangered Species . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Gardner M. Brown 5 The Center for Plant Conservation: Twenty Years of Recovering America’s Vanishing Flora . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Kathryn L. Kennedy 6 The Piping Plover as an Umbrella Species for the Barrier Beach Ecosystem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 Scott Hecker 7 Restoring Atlantic Salmon (Salmo salar) to New England . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 Stephen Gephard Part II Protecting Regional Ecosystems 8 Sea Change: Changing Management to Protect Ocean Ecosystems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Susan E. Farady
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9 Valuing Benefits from Ecosystem Improvements using Stated Preference Methods: An Example from Reducing Acidification in the Adirondacks Park . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 David A. Evans, H. Spencer Banzhaf, Dallas Burtraw, Alan J. Krupnick and Juha Siikam¨aki 10 Conserving Forest Ecosystems: Guidelines for Size, Condition and Landscape Requirements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Mark G. Anderson 11 Restoring America’s Everglades: A Lobbyist’s Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . 137 April H. G. Smith Part III The Need For Global Efforts To Save Biological Diversity 12 A Wildland and Woodland Vision for the New England Landscape: Local Conservation, Biodiversity and the Global Environment . . . . . . . . 155 David R. Foster and William G. Labich 13 Creative Approaches to Preserving Biodiversity in Brazil and the Amazon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 Kathryn Hochstetler and Margaret E. Keck 14 Anthropogenic Carbon Dioxide Emissions and Ocean Acidification: The Potential Impacts on Ocean Biodiversity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 William C. G. Burns 15 Advancing Conservation in a Globalized World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 Jonathan M. Hoekstra 16 Protecting Biodiversity, from Flagship Species to the Global Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 Robert A. Askins
Contributors
Mark G. Anderson is the Director of Conservation Science for the Eastern Region of The Nature Conservancy providing ecological analysis and developing landscape– scale assessment tools for conservation efforts across eight ecoregions. He received his Ph.D. in Ecology from the University of New Hampshire. A co-author of the National Vegetation Classification, his research interests are in ecosystem dynamics, population demographics, disturbance processes, spatial scale and landscape properties. Robert A. Askins is Professor of Biology and Harrison Director of the GoodwinNiering Center for Conservation Biology and Environmental Studies at Connecticut College. Askins received his B.S. from the University of Michigan, and his M.S. and Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota. He teaches courses in ecology, animal behavior and ornithology. He is nationally recognized for his research on the ecology and conservation of birds in North America, Japan and the West Indies. H. Spencer Banzhaf is an Associate Professor of Economics at Georgia State University. He earned his Ph.D. and B.A. in economics from Duke University. Banzhaf’s research focuses on the interactions between local environmental amenities, local real estate markets, and the demographic composition and structure of cities. He applies these and other tools of benefit-cost analysis to the evaluation and design of environmental policy and to the creation of “green” index numbers and accounts. He also studies the history of welfare economics. Gardner M. Brown is a Resources for the Future University Fellow and Professor Emeritus of Economics, University of Washington. He has his Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley and an honorary doctorate from the University of Goteborg, Sweden. His research interests encompass dynamic models of renewable resources, non-market valuation, development of the hedonic travel cost model, optimal growth models with renewable resources, and optimal use of antibiotic resistance models. William C. G. Burns is a Senior Fellow in International Environmental Law, Santa Clara University School of Law. He earned his Ph.D. from the University of WalesCardiff School of Law. His research agenda includes climate change (focusing on the impacts on small island states and potential institutional responses, and climate change litigation) and international wildlife law (with a focus on regimes for conservation and management of cetaceans). xi
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Contributors
Dallas Burtraw is a senior fellow at Resources for the Future. He has a Master in Public Policy and Ph.D. in economics from the University of Michigan. Burtraw’s research interests focus on electricity and the environment. He has concentrated on the performance of cap and trade programs in the U.S. and Europe and on integrated assessment and benefit-cost analysis of air pollution. Glenn D. Dreyer is the Charles and Sarah P. Becker ’27 Director of the Arboretum, Adjunct Associate Professor of Botany and Executive Director of the GoodwinNiering Center for Conservation Biology and Environmental Studies all at Connecticut College. Dreyer received his B.S. from the University of California-Davis, and his M.A. from Connecticut College. He specializes in vegetation management, ecology and horticulture of native plants, invasive exotic woody plants and large and historic trees. David A. Evans is an Economist in the U.S. EPA’s National Center for Environmental Economics. He holds a Ph.D. from the University of Maryland, an M.A. from the University of Illinois, and a B.A. from Hiram College. His research interests include normative and positive analyses of regulatory design and the use of stated preference methods. He also performs and evaluates economic analyses that support proposed federal air quality regulations. Susan E. Farady is the Director of the Marine Affairs Institute at the Roger Williams University School of Law, where she researches and analyzes ocean and coastal legal issues, educates and trains law students in marine law, and conducts outreach to lawyers, scientists, and policy-makers. She also serves on the Vermont Law School’s Environmental Law Center Advisory Committee. Farady received her J.D. from the Vermont Law School and her B.A. in Biology from the University of Colorado. David R. Foster is an ecologist and Director of Harvard Forest at Harvard University where he has been a faculty member in the Department of Organismic and Evolutionary Biology since 1983. He has his M.S. and Ph.D. in Ecology from the University of Minnesota and was an undergraduate major in Botany and Religious Studies at Connecticut College. Foster is the Principal Investigator for the Harvard Forest Long Term Ecological Research program funded by the National Science Foundation. Stephen Gephard oversees Connecticut’s DEP Inland Fisheries Division’s Diadromous Fish Program with more than 28 years of experience with diadromous fish species, which migrate between fresh and salt water to spawn. Gephard serves as a U.S. Commissioner for the North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization, an international fisheries management commission that regulates high seas fisheries and promotes conservation of wild Atlantic salmon. Scott Hecker is the Executive Director of the Goldenrod Foundation based in Plymouth Massachusetts. From 1987 to 2003 he directed Mass Audubon’s Coastal Waterbird Program and from 2003 to 2008 he directed National Audubon Society’s Coastal Bird Conservation Program. His work continued to focus on the conservation of endangered plovers, terns, and other threatened coastal birds throughout their breeding and non-breeding ranges in the Western Hemisphere. Hecker has his M.S. in Resource Management from Antioch University.
Contributors
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Kathryn Hochstetler is Professor of Political Science at the University of New Mexico. Her most recent book, Greening Brazil: Environmental Activism in State and Society (co-authored with Margaret Keck), was published by Duke University Press in 2007. Her previous books include Palgrave Advances in International Environmental Politics (co-edited, Palgrave, 2006). Jonathan M. Hoekstra leads The Nature Conservancy’s emerging strategies unit, providing early science leadership around issues such as climate change and ecosystem services to ensure that innovative conservation strategies are built on top-notch science. Hoekstra previously directed TNC’s Global Habitat Assessment Team, helping to define the Conservancy’s global priorities. He earned B.S. and M.S. degrees in Biological Sciences from Stanford University, and a Ph.D. in Zoology from the University of Washington. Margaret E. Keck is Professor of Political Science at the Johns Hopkins University. Her most recent book, Greening Brazil: Environmental Activism in State and Society (co-authored with Kathryn Hochstetler) was published by Duke University Press in 2007. Her previous books include Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics (co-authored, Cornell, 1998), which won several major prizes including the Grawemeyer Award for Ideas Contributing to World Order. Kathryn L. Kennedy is the President and Executive Director of the Center for Plant Conservation, which coordinates and assists development of hands-on plant conservation programs in a national network of 36 participating institutions. Kennedy has her Ph.D. from the University of Texas at Austin working in systematics and evolution, and her M.S. from New Mexico State University working in plant ecology. Her career in federal and state agencies as well as non-profit organizations has focused on the planning and implementation of restoration work for imperiled plants. Alan J. Krupnick is the Director of Research and Senior Fellow at Resources for the Future. His Ph.D. is in economics from the University of Maryland. His research interests currently lie in understanding and valuing public preferences for improvements in the environment and human health and in the design of regulatory analyses, such as the use of cost-benefit analysis in government decision making. William G. Labich is Regional Conservationist for Highstead in Redding, Connecticut, where he works to advance regional and landscape-scale forest conservation across southern New England and eastern New York by fostering collaboration among diverse stakeholders. Labich has a B.S. in Forestry with the University of Maine at Orono and a Masters in Regional Planning at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. Bryan G. Norton is Professor of Philosophy, Science and Technology in the School of Public Policy, Georgia Institute of Technology and author of several books including: Sustainability: A Philosophy of Adaptive Ecosystem Management (University of Chicago Press, 2005). His current research concentrates on sustainability theory and on spatio-temporal scaling of environmental problems. Norton has his Ph.D. from the University of Michigan.
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Contributors
Karin P. Sheldon is Executive Director of Western Resources Advocates, a non-profit environmental organization dedicated to the protection of the land, air, and water of the Rocky Mountain West. Until 2007, she was Professor of Law, Associate Dean, and Director of the Environmental Law Center at Vermont Law School. She teaches and writes in the areas of natural resources and environmental law, including federal land management, wildlife and biodiversity conservation, and protection of imperiled species. She received her AB in Political Science from Vassar College and her J.D. from the University of Washington, School of Law. Juha Siikam¨aki is a Fellow at Resources for the Future. His research concentrates on examining the benefits, costs, and cost-effectiveness of different environmental policy options and mechanisms, especially those related to preserving biodiversity and promoting other ecological public goods. He holds a Ph.D. and M.S. from the University of California at Davis, and a M.S. from the University of Helsinki. April H. G. Smith is Director of Ecosystem Restoration in Audubon’s national office, Washington, DC. She leads Audubon’s national advocacy efforts for landscape-scale ecosystem restoration, including the Mississippi River, Coastal Louisiana, and the Everglades. Smith, a member of the Florida Bar, graduated cum laude from the University of Miami, School of Law. Gerald R. Visgilio is Professor of Economics and on the faculty of the GoodwinNiering Center for Conservation Biology and Environmental Studies at Connecticut College. His research and teaching interests include an economic analysis of environmental and natural resource policy, environmental law, environmental justice, and antitrust law and policy. He earned his B.A. from Providence College and his M.S. and Ph.D. from the University of Rhode Island. Visgilio co-edited Our Backyard: A Quest for Environmental Justice, which was selected by Choice as an Outstanding Academic Title in Science and Technology in 2003, America’s Changing Coasts: Private Rights and Public Trust in 2005 and Acid in the Environment: Lessons Learned and Future Prospects in 2007. Diana M. Whitelaw is Associate Director of the Goodwin-Niering Center for Conservation Biology and Environmental Studies at Connecticut College where she coordinates the Certificate Program in Environmental Studies. Whitelaw co-edited Our Backyard: A Quest for Environmental Justice, which was selected by Choice as an Outstanding Academic Title in Science and Technology in 2003, America’s Changing Coasts: Private Rights and Public Trust in 2005 and Acid in the Environment: Lessons Learned and Future Prospects in 2007. She earned her M.S. in Environmental Science from the University of New Haven and her Ph.D. from the University of Connecticut.
List of Figures
5.1 5.2 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6 6.7 7.1 7.2 7.3 8.1 8.2 9.1 9.2 9.3 10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 11.1 11.2 12.1
Mespilus canescens (Stern’s medlar) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Robbins’ cinquefoil (Potentilla robbinsiana) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 The Piping Plover by John James Audubon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60 Range map of the Piping Plover . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62 Piping Plover chicks and egg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Piping Plover predator exclosure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Plover and tern nesting area protected with welded-wire fence . . . . . . . . . . 68 Off-road vehicles on Plymouth Beach, Massachusetts in 1989 . . . . . . . . . . . 69 Change in the number of breeding pairs of Piping Plovers in Massachusetts from 1986 to 2006 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 New England rivers that supported wild Atlantic salmon runs at the time of European contact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 Returns of adult Atlantic salmon to U.S. rivers and production of Atlantic salmon by aquaculture in Maine waters, 1965–2005 . . . . . . . . . 80 Nominal catch of Atlantic salmon in the North Atlantic Ocean, 1960–2006 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 Tanker and whales in Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary . . . . . . . 93 Referendum question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 The future with the improvement program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Demonstrating hypothetical liming program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Severe damage patch size of hurricane disturbances at Pisgah Forest, NH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Severe damage patches from downbursts in the Adirondacks . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 Synthesis of the scaling factors used for setting size thresholds for matrix-forming communities in the Northern Appalachians . . . . . . . . . . 125 Roads and other fragmenting features subdivide contiguous areas into smaller patches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 Areas over 200,000 ha with 80% or greater contiguous natural cover . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Aerial photograph of south Florida showing the Everglades . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 Great Egret . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Changes in the extent of forest cover in the New England states and the region’s human population over the past 300 years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 xv
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List of Figures
12.2 Changes in major wildlife species over the past 300 years in New England . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 12.3 The pattern of carbon dynamics in a 100-year-old New England oak forest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 12.4 Total volume of saw timber in Massachusetts from 1953 to 1998 . . . . . . . . 161 12.5 The wood foot print of Massachusetts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 12.6 The Wildland and Woodland proposal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 12.7 Maps of much of New England comparing the extent of forest cover (left) and the area of natural open space that is legally protected from future development (right) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 12.8 The diversity and extent of land trust activity across southern New England . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 12.9 Three contrasting views of the New England landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 14.1 Impacts of carbon dioxide on ocean chemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 14.2 Bicarbonate formation in the oceans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 15.1 The human footprint . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 15.2 Crisis ecoregions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
List of Tables
4.1 Different cost estimates for saving a given number of species . . . . . . . . . . . 37 4.2 Bang for the Buck Analysis: biological and economic metrics . . . . . . . . . . . 38 4.3 Bang for the Buck Analysis: biological effects of different interventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 4.4 Bang for the Buck Analysis: economic costs of different interventions . . . . 38 4.5 Bang for the Buck Analysis: added salmon population growth rate per dollar of cost . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 4.6 By catch in tons per 1,000 tons of Yellowfin tuna loaded when fishing at current convergences (logs) and at schools of dolphins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 4.7 Estimated changes in African elephant populations in different countries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 4.8 Survey of alternative possible future outcomes at different costs for reducing forest loss due to climate change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 4.9 Estimated willingness to pay for alternative amounts of ecosystem change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 5.1 Genera readily recognizable to gardeners and wildflower enthusiasts that include critically imperiled native plant species . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 10.1 Summary of tornadoes and hurricanes in the Northeast over the last century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 10.2 Quantities of some biological legacy features in old growth Northern Hardwood Forests based on six stands in the Adirondacks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 12.1 Synopsis of the Wildlands and Woodlands vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 12.2 Strategies for Achieving the Wildlands and Woodlands vision . . . . . . . . . . . 169
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Chapter 1
Saving Biological Diversity: An Overview Glenn D. Dreyer
The conservation movement in North America emerged in part due to the shock of the extinction of the passenger pigeon and the near extinction of the American bison, species that had once been considered too numerous to be depleted. By the 1960s, a broad consensus emerged in the United States that species should not be driven to extinction by human activity. Since then, however, the Endangered Species Act and major programs to restore endangered and threatened species have become controversial. Private property rights advocates claim that endangered species protection hampers economic activity and land development to an unreasonable extent. At the same time some conservationists are concerned that too much money and effort are devoted to endangered species, diverting efforts from protection of entire ecosystems that support numerous species. They argue that given the limited resources available, preventing common species from becoming rare is the most effective long-term strategy. Defenders of endangered species programs claim that protecting endangered species usually entails protecting entire ecosystems, and endangered species can serve as effective symbols to rally support for ecosystem protection. Saving Biological Diversity: Balancing the Protection of Endangered Species and Ecosystems seeks to emphasize the interplay between the science and policy of species protection. We have chosen to take a broadly interdisciplinary approach by focusing on such important topics as the effectiveness and economics of endangered species protection, efforts to sustain biological diversity in entire ecosystems or across regional landscapes, and the need to protect species diversity on a global scale. Our book is a synthesis of the views of economists, political scientists, resource managers and conservation biologists on a wide array of species protection issues. In a single book we could not hope to address the myriad species, habitats, ecosystems, conservation issues and political systems worldwide that a truly comprehensive treatment would require. Instead we present chapters illustrating a wide range of problems and solutions as they are seen by people who work in an array of disciplines and professions. Since our authors come from different academic traditions, the editors have chosen to tread lightly on preferred writing and referencing styles. While this results in some distinct stylistic differences between those authors with a legal background and those with scientific training, it does not detract from the communication of important ideas. Our goal for this book is to engage a wide audience that includes researchers, concerned citizens, regulators, conservation managers and policy analysts. Saving Biological Diversity may also serve as a book of readings for courses in conservation biology, environmental studies, or environmental policy. We believe that the juxtaposition of R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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Chapter 1
Saving Biological Diversity: An Overview Glenn D. Dreyer
The conservation movement in North America emerged in part due to the shock of the extinction of the passenger pigeon and the near extinction of the American bison, species that had once been considered too numerous to be depleted. By the 1960s, a broad consensus emerged in the United States that species should not be driven to extinction by human activity. Since then, however, the Endangered Species Act and major programs to restore endangered and threatened species have become controversial. Private property rights advocates claim that endangered species protection hampers economic activity and land development to an unreasonable extent. At the same time some conservationists are concerned that too much money and effort are devoted to endangered species, diverting efforts from protection of entire ecosystems that support numerous species. They argue that given the limited resources available, preventing common species from becoming rare is the most effective long-term strategy. Defenders of endangered species programs claim that protecting endangered species usually entails protecting entire ecosystems, and endangered species can serve as effective symbols to rally support for ecosystem protection. Saving Biological Diversity: Balancing the Protection of Endangered Species and Ecosystems seeks to emphasize the interplay between the science and policy of species protection. We have chosen to take a broadly interdisciplinary approach by focusing on such important topics as the effectiveness and economics of endangered species protection, efforts to sustain biological diversity in entire ecosystems or across regional landscapes, and the need to protect species diversity on a global scale. Our book is a synthesis of the views of economists, political scientists, resource managers and conservation biologists on a wide array of species protection issues. In a single book we could not hope to address the myriad species, habitats, ecosystems, conservation issues and political systems worldwide that a truly comprehensive treatment would require. Instead we present chapters illustrating a wide range of problems and solutions as they are seen by people who work in an array of disciplines and professions. Since our authors come from different academic traditions, the editors have chosen to tread lightly on preferred writing and referencing styles. While this results in some distinct stylistic differences between those authors with a legal background and those with scientific training, it does not detract from the communication of important ideas. Our goal for this book is to engage a wide audience that includes researchers, concerned citizens, regulators, conservation managers and policy analysts. Saving Biological Diversity may also serve as a book of readings for courses in conservation biology, environmental studies, or environmental policy. We believe that the juxtaposition of R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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views from many different disciplines will engender further discourse on how best to save biological diversity. The following questions are offered to illustrate the issues that may be addressed by groups such as faculty and students, conservationists and legislators, and scientists and policy analysts who use this book as a source: 1. How should we define the term “biodiversity?” 2. How should we characterize and measure the value of biodiversity? 3. Should we focus on the protection of individual species or entire ecosystems, or a combination of the two? 4. What are the important economic issues pertaining to endangered species protection? How do we place a value on ecosystem improvements? 5. How can we establish a biodiversity conservation system that includes all major ecosystem types? Given the global scope of the loss of biodiversity, how can we be sure that we are not overlooking ecosystems that are quickly disappearing? 6. Are large-scale, ecosystem preservation efforts effectively protecting a high proportion of North America’s imperiled plants? Or the world’s most imperiled ecoregions? 7. Can a focus on protecting the particular habitat features needed by a single species result in effective protection of other vulnerable species or entire ecosystems? 8. How can we assure protection of species that migrate between regions? How can conservation programs be coordinated across state, provincial and national boundaries? 9. How can we restore biological diversity when the genetic uniqueness of some local populations has been lost? 10. Is the most effective strategy to focus on protection of large vertebrates to gain popular support for habitat protection and restoration that also benefits many less conspicuous and well-known species? 11. What particular challenges do resource managers and legislators face when designing protection measures for marine environments? Is enough attention being focused on marine ecosystems? 12. What size should a preserve be to effectively conserve local or regional biological diversity over the long term despite anticipated changes in the climate and in regional land use? 13. What challenges are faced when ecosystem restoration is attempted at a massive scale with multiple partners and stakeholders? 14. How does local land preservation affect global problems such as climate change and loss of biodiversity? 15. How can grassroots conservation efforts in less developed countries be supported by conservationists in more prosperous places?
Part I. Protecting Populations of Particular Species In a truly interdisciplinary fashion, Part 1 includes the perspectives of a philosopher, a lawyer, an economist and three biologists. One of the common themes of these chapters is the U.S. Endangered Species Act of 1973 (ESA), which is not surprising
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given the species level focus of this section and the U.S. origin of the authors. But plants and animals do not recognize political borders, and the basic issues raised by enforcement of the ESA will also arise wherever endangered species occur. We begin with a chapter by philosophy professor Bryan Norton that explores, in the context of the ESA, what is meant by “biodiversity,” and how its value can be characterized and measured. While the ESA focuses on the protection of individual species, this is generally understood as a proxy for an attempt to slow the rapid impoverishment of the biological world in general. The ideal definition of biodiversity must function in the very different contexts of scientific research and human-value based policy, and indeed must bridge these two worlds. Norton reviews how biologists define the term diversity, and finds that some definitions are based on inventories of organisms and others on difference measures. Fortunately, he does not find that disagreements about how to define diversity necessarily hinder conservation action. He includes a discussion of the importance of effective communication between scientists and policy makers, suggesting that more general terms (such as “web of life”) might be helpful. Is the species-level protection envisioned by the U.S. Endangered Species Act adequate? Did Congress mean to include habitats and ecosystems as well as the populations of endangered species in its attempt to preserve biodiversity? In Chapter 3, environmental law professor Karin Sheldon argues that the ESA does not specify an ecosystem approach to preservation primarily due to the approach to conservation at the time it was written in the early 1970s and the lack of subsequent revision. She begins with a review of the main features of the ESA, including “the list” of mandated actions for endangered species: designation of critical habitat, conservation and recovery, consultation, a ban on “taking,” and reintroduction. At a time when habitat destruction is thought by most scientists to be the most significant threat to endangered species, one would expect regulations to rely heavily on an ecosystem approach. Sheldon argues that there are multiple benefits from using an ecosystem approach both for the agencies charged with implementing the ESA and for the species and ecosystems the Act is intended to protect. She concludes with thoughts on the need for, and possible implementation of, a national land conservation system to meet biodiversity preservation goals. How to choose lands to preserve and innovative approaches to set aside adequate acreage are further discussed in Chapters 10 and 12. In Chapter 4, Gardner Brown reminds us that economists have much to contribute to the conservation of endangered species, especially because they realize that species have significant non-market value. Although the language of the Endangered Species Act calls for the protection of all species regardless of costs, Congress annually fails to provide sufficient funds for such protection. A better approach, from an economist’s perspective, involves seeking the lowest cost way to save the most species, or maximizing the number of species saved given budget constraints. Brown goes on to discuss what he views as the most significant economic concepts for species conservation. These include “opportunity cost,” which accounts for the value of resources in their best alternative use. The concept of opportunity cost forces society to deal with the issue of costs not only in terms of their monetary value but also in terms of their forgone alternatives. In this context, the cost of alternative approaches to species conservation may be related to trade-offs involving other species. Other significant concepts are recognizing the fact of diminishing returns as more resources are applied to species protection; acknowledging that not all species can be saved; understanding
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that people act in their own interest; and the need for developing ways to quantify the public’s valuation of non-market goods, such as many biological species. Chapter 9 provides a related discussion and an example of methods to quantify the public’s willingness to pay for environmental improvements. Many plant species in the United States are severely threatened. Unfortunately, as botanist Kathryn Kennedy points out in Chapter 5, while about half of the species listed under the ESA are plants, they receive only about 5% of the funding for recovery and restoration. After summarizing the value of plant life to ecosystems and human culture, she reviews the status of plants of conservation interest and estimates that nearly 25% of the U.S. flora is vulnerable or imperiled. There are many inequities in the U.S. conservation effort, which tends to provide much more funding, research, management and other resources for animals rather than plants. The non-profit Center for Plant Conservation has created a national network of botanical institutions working in partnership with government agencies to secure and restore imperiled plants both in the field and in botanical gardens and seed banks. Next we turn to an example of a species listed as endangered in both the United States and Canada, the beach-nesting Piping Plover. Conservationist Scott Hecker explains in Chapter 6 how applying measures to protect and recover one bird species can have a very broad affect on associated species and habitats. Hecker gives the specific history of efforts in Massachusetts that involved cooperation among various federal, state and local government agencies and private organizations. As protection techniques evolved from simple fencing around nests to restricting nearly all vehicle access to beaches during breeding season, a number of other previously declining species of plants and animals also began to recover. Piping Plover preservation became an effective umbrella for saving Atlantic Coast barrier beach habitat and the Massachusetts model is becoming known as a classic conservation success story. Now the challenge has moved to protecting Piping Plover habitat during the non-breeding season, most of which is in the United States. If successful, this will provide another umbrella of protection for many other species. Arguably the best-known fish in the Northern Hemisphere, the Atlantic salmon is another migratory animal that has declined to the point of requiring federal protection in the United States. Biologist Stephen Gephard explains that concerted recovery efforts for this fish in New England, begun before the ESA, have included habitat protection and manipulation, particularly the removal of dams or the construction of “fishways” to allow migration between the Atlantic Ocean and spawning areas in gravelly headwater streams. In contrast to the previous example, conservationists have also developed captive breeding programs that now utilize increasingly sophisticated genetic fingerprinting of individuals. Unfortunately the population trends in the United States and elsewhere have been downward since the mid 1980s, and the Atlantic salmon was listed under the Endangered Species Act in 2000. Population restoration efforts in New England continue, and have evolved from single species management to programs that include all diadromous fish.
Part II. Protecting Regional Ecosystems The goal in Part I was to focus on particular rare species and the federal legislation that mandates their protection At this point it should be clear that any discussion of
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single species conservation inevitably leads to issues at larger scales. In Part II we step up from concern about populations of particular species to an emphasis on ecosystems and regional landscapes. We begin with Chapter 8 on ocean conservation in the United States from a policy and management viewpoint. Environmental advocate Susan Faraday compares marine ecosystems to terrestrial ecosystems, and finds them fundamentally different both as physical habitats and in terms of the level of environmental awareness and protection. Numerous studies point to the need for a comprehensive, ecosystem-based approach to marine conservation in place of the patchwork of legislation and regulation now in effect. Protected areas, while relatively successful for preserving ecosystems on land, have not been used nearly as often, or as successfully, in the oceans. Marine protected areas established under the National Marine Sanctuaries Act of 1972 provide illuminating examples of the tension between protection and multiple use goals in sanctuary management, as well as the potential for new and more effective conservation directions. Faraday argues for replacing the current, ad-hoc methods of determining compatible uses within marine sanctuaries by developing a clear vision of the goals of each sanctuary using transparent, standardized methods for making decisions about which activities should be restricted, an approach that is used successfully to manage terrestrial habitats. In Chapter 9, Economist David Evans and his colleagues provide an argument for placing value on “non-use” items that, in a conservation framework, may involve the existence of species or the protection of habitats that we may never “use” or even see. Society values such resources, even though many of us do not or will not actually use them. This non-use value simply reflects the benefit to society from the continued existence of environmental resources, such as an individual species or an entire ecosystem. Evans and his colleagues then detail the methodology of a stated preference approach to determine “non-use value,” which was used to estimate how much people are willing to pay for environmental improvement. They provide an example of this approach with a survey to estimate how much New York State residents would pay to improve the aquatic ecosystem of lakes in Adirondack Park, which has been damaged by acid deposition. They conclude with some thoughts as to how these methods can help conservationists select appropriate protection strategies that will be approved by policy makers. Early in any ecosystem preservation program, questions arose concerning how much habitat and what type of habitat are needed to meet goals. In Chapter 10 ecologist Mark Anderson describes a procedure for answering this question, using forest ecosystems in the northeastern United States as an example. His methodology for determining adequate preserve size is based on protecting a large enough area to accommodate natural disturbances at various scales as well as viable populations of species that require large areas of habitat. Important conditions of the land include biological legacy features and the amount of unfragmented, interior forest. He also notes that natural or semi-natural landscapes surrounding the preserves provide a buffering effect and act to interconnect multiple preserves. Anderson’s analysis indicates that very large blocks of continuous forest are critical for preserving forest biodiversity at the landscape scale, and he provides a straightforward method to estimate the habitat area and conditions needed to protect biological diversity in any forested region. Environmental lobbyist and attorney April Gromnicki uses the Everglades in Florida, USA, as an example of the political and managerial complexities that arise
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when attempts are made to restore and repair a huge, badly damaged ecosystem. Restoration in the Everglades represents an unprecedented partnership between the federal government and a state. There are also many counties, regional planning councils, and a number of Indian tribes with jurisdiction over some of the area. Add to these the multiple government agencies with interest and responsibility in the Everglades – 14 federal entities alone – and the myriad non-governmental stakeholders, and one begins to think that it is amazing that anything has actually been accomplished. Gromnicki details the history and process that began in the early 1990s and brought together so many interested entities and individuals in an effort to correct the extensive damage done by government-sponsored drainage and flood control projects since the late 1940s. The actual, on-the-ground restoration work has only recently begun but, if fully implemented, the Everglades restoration project will surely serve as a model for large ecosystem restoration worldwide.
Part III. The Need for Global Efforts to Save Biological Diversity Ecologists David Foster and William Labich make the transition to the international section of this book with an example of how a regional forest preservation scheme has the potential for not only becoming a model for saving biological diversity worldwide but also, through carbon sequestration, can help reduce global warming. They begin Chapter 12 by summarizing the history of the eastern North American forests that began to grow back about 150 years ago after two hundred years of cutting and agriculture. These forestlands now provide a second (and final) opportunity for their “natural infrastructure” to be preserved. The authors argue that these systems are actually global infrastructure, since the rapidly growing forests are actively accumulating carbon. Utilizing some of the ideas developed in Chapter 10 regarding the preservation of matrix forests surrounded by buffer lands, their “Wildlands and Woodlands” proposal for Massachusetts, USA calls for adding to currently preserved land until one-half of all land area in the Commonwealth is in permanent forest cover. Wildland, or protected natural area, would comprise 10 % of the total forest. The remainder, Woodland, would be actively managed for wood products and other resources. They go on to detail a practical approach for accomplishing these goals. Brazil’s biodiversity treasures and troubles are well known to conservationists. In Chapter 13 political scientists Kathryn Hochstetler and Margaret Keck describe policies and strategies that aim to deal with both environmental and social problems, which are often inextricably linked. One approach is a network of protected areas of two general types, one uninhabited and the other with human populations within them. Extractive reserves, as well as indigenous reserves, allow small scale, traditional uses of the land that, at least ideally, are environmentally sustainable over the long term. Another promising development in Brazil is the increasingly active role of the judiciary, with the Ministerio Publico having authority to investigate and prosecute environmental infractions arising from both the government and the private entities. Their efforts have helped ensure more effective implementation of the country’s environmental laws. Another effective environmental protection strategy has been the creation of transnational activist networks that partner with strong, locally
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based, grassroots organizations. This combination of local and international pressure has proven effective in resisting some environmentally damaging government and private development initiatives. The rapid increase in anthropogenically derived carbon dioxide in the atmosphere over the past two centuries, and the likely consequence of increased global temperatures, is a well-known scenario. In Chapter 14 William Burns explores a different and less well-understood result of increased CO2 levels, the acidification of our planet’s oceans. Increased acidity may well prove a much greater threat to marine biodiversity than climbing ocean temperatures. Calcifying organisms such as coral will be particularly impacted, as will the reefs they create. If the pH of ocean water drops as much as some scientists predict, coral reefs and the highly diverse ecosystems they support will be in danger of collapse. Even greater amounts of calcium carbonate are precipitated by planktonic organisms, and population crashes of such plankton would result in massive disruptions of marine ecosystems and the human socio-economic systems that depend on them. Crabs, mussels, oysters, sea urchins and any other calcifying organisms will also be adversely affected. Research into the consequences of ocean acidification is young and poorly funded. Burns concludes with recommendations on research agendas and with a brief discussion of international environmental policy. In Chapter 15 environmental strategist Jonathan Hoekstra provides a broad perspective on biodiversity conservation on the global stage. Using the adage “think globally, act locally,” he discusses how twenty-first century consumers are linked to people and resources throughout the world. Citizens of the wealthier countries are clearly having ever increasing impacts farther and farther from home. A leader in The Nature Conservancy’s global habitat initiatives, he goes on to examine the disconnect between the world’s most imperiled biomes and ecoregions, and the actual places that have been preserved. His map of “crisis ecoregions” (Figure 15.2) provides a fresh perspective and should be a useful tool for directing future conservation efforts to places experiencing extensive habitat loss coupled with insufficient habitat protection. Next, he theorizes about ways that rapidly expanding access to communications and information technologies could revolutionize global conservation. He concludes with thoughts on the need for bringing the valuation of ecosystem services into the economic mainstream. Our final chapter is by landscape ecologist and biology professor Robert Askins, who uses the story of a Japanese program to restore the Oriental White Stork as an analogy for some of the lessons in this book. Efforts initiated to recover a single endangered species inevitably lead to the need for preservation or restoration of appropriate habitat. Single, “flagship” species can become conservation icons, as did the Spotted Owl in the United States and the stork in Japan, focusing public attention on the importance of preserving biodiversity and fragile habitats. Educational programs, and the “umbrella effect” whereby an endangered species provides protection for the many organisms that share its habitats, are valuable spin-offs from the focus on one species. But conservation must operate at all geographic and ecological scales to be effective. Global environmental changes that affect biological diversity, like climatic warming and acidification of the oceans, require concerted international cooperation in the political and economic realms that is difficult to achieve. Perhaps because individual, attractive species are easier for people to focus their attention on, it is inevitable that many efforts begin there.
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If we are to save biological diversity, there is clearly much work to do at many levels, and plenty of room for those with varied interests, training and skills to join in. It is our hope that the interdisciplinary nature of this book will stimulate new connections and ideas in the minds of those already working to preserve biological diversity. Better yet, pass this book on to someone not yet fully engaged in this struggle with the idea that one of the chapters will resonate with their passions and induce them join the effort.
Part I
Protecting Populations of Particular Species
Chapter 2
Toward a Policy-Relevant Definition of Biodiversity1 Bryan G. Norton
Abstract Defining “Biodiversity” can be a challenge because the term functions in two arenas—scientific biology and conservation policy. First, it will be noted that there are arguments that apparently show that the term is not rigorously definable in a way that makes biodiversity an additive quantity; the consequences of this undefinability for policy will be discussed. Second, it will be argued that it is more important to develop a policy-relevant definition, a definition that reflects social value as well as scientific soundness in characterizing biodiversity, and which functions to allow communication about what to do. What is important is to have a definition that encourages shared actions and allows for the improvement of our linguistic tools. Perhaps it will be necessary to develop the concept of “biodiversity” as a scientific concept, while pairing it with a more readily understandable phrase, such as “the web of life” for use in public discussions.
The Endangered Species Act of 1973 (ESA) was a bold departure in environmental legislation; it has become perhaps the most powerful environmental statute in the United States, and it has been employed both as a weapon—to stop threatening projects—and as a tool—to bring opposed interests to a bargaining table. Commentators have noted that species endangerment is only one aspect of the biological impoverishment of the world’s ecosystems; some have suggested that references to “species” in the legislation (which includes species, subspecies, and distinct population segments of vertebrates) should be viewed as a surrogate for protecting living things and the natural systems in which they are embedded. This chapter examines these broader concerns. To do so, I focus on the term “biological diversity,” or “biodiversity,” which has come to function as a label for the broad concerns for nature, its life forms, and its processes. I address two questions: 1. How should we define the term “biodiversity?” 2. How should we characterize and measure the value of biodiversity?
1 Originally published in The Endangered Species Act at Thirty, Volume 2 by J. Michael Scott, Dale c 2006 Island Press. Reproduced by permission of D. Goble, and Frank W. Davis (Eds.). Copyright Island Press, Washington, D.C.
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These questions are important because they acknowledge that saving species serves as a proxy for a broader social goal—the interruption of a seemingly inexorable trend toward the impoverishment of the biological world. Defining biodiversity is no simple act of lexicography; biologists, for example, offer varied definitions of the term. Similarly, because this book addresses policy, we cannot avoid addressing social goals and values as well as science. Choosing a definition in a context in which concepts and arguments of science and public policy interact forces us to face a strategic dilemma: should we start with a scientifically accurate definition before identifying values that would accrue from systems that are diverse in the biologists’ sense of the term, or should we ask what we value about biological diversity and then seek a definition that captures those values? Because the Act explicitly refers to the objects of study of biological science, it is tempting to think that biology should determine the meaning of the term. But it should not be forgotten that the context of the Act is a list of social values identified in its preamble—“esthetic, ecological, educational, historical, recreational, and scientific”—so that understanding these values is essential to identifying what should be saved. Furthermore, the context set by this book’s topic dictates a definition of biodiversity that fulfills the purposes of policy discourse, even as we recognize that any definition must achieve biological respectability. When we think about apparently scientific concepts like biodiversity in a conservation context, we are forced to conclude that we cannot know what we mean until we know what we care about. By judging our definition by a dual criterion, we may ignore some things important to biologists because we seek a definition that can improve communication regarding policy goals. A definition that can fulfill these twin purposes is a bridge term, a term that links discourse about policy goals to scientific data and theory, all within a discourse about policy choices that will determine the future of life on earth. In this chapter, I explore how to articulate a policy based on reasonable conservation targets, focusing on the Endangered Species Act as a starting point. First, we must carefully define key terms such as “biodiversity.” In 1909, John Dewey delivered a lecture, “The Influence of Darwinism on Philosophy” (1910), in which he argued that the publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species (1859) undermined a foundational idea in Western thought: the assumption that our categories “correspond” to an existing, “deeper” reality. Whether referring to Platonic “forms,” Aristotelian “essences,” or Kantian “categories,” Western philosophy had argued that the world is intelligible to the human mind on the assumption that the world has a prelinguistic structure and that language functions by labeling prepackaged objects. Words, according to this traditional view, get their meaning from their connections to objective reality; sentences correspond to preexistent facts. Darwin’s discovery (implicitly) required the conclusion that the definition of a species is not an act of labeling, but a decision to draw a line across a continuum of change. This holds true for all linguistic stipulations: words do not correspond to preexisting objects or categories. Through an act (usually implicit) of choice, the development of a vocabulary to discuss observable phenomena “constitutes” the objects and categories we recognize and manipulate linguistically. This position, sometimes referred to as “conventionalism,” emphasizes the social uses of language and the role that language plays in interpreting our shared realities.
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Dewey recognized that the categories of biology (and of language more broadly) are tools that gain reality by functioning within communicative contexts, not by correspondence to prior realities. Communicative usefulness, not truth-by-correspondence, should determine our definitions. But usefulness implies we must carefully examine the shared purposes of the communication— and that leads back to the subject of social values and commitments. Dewey’s argument—and the Darwinian basis for it—are especially relevant here because they remind us that there is no “correct” biological definition to be “found,” as one might discover a gem under a rock. We are looking for a definition that is useful in deliberative discourse on how to preserve biological diversity, however defined. Dewey recognized that all of our categories, including biological categories, develop from the need to communicate and to act together.
2.1 Social Goals and Policy Objectives in Protecting Biodiversity The strategy of beginning with a biological definition before addressing the values question, although attractive, cannot do justice to the role Congress gave values in the preamble to the Endangered Species Act. An alternative starting point is the current discourse regarding the values of biodiversity and the ideas that shape discussion of endangered species. This discourse, however, is in poor shape, suffering from an excess of ideology and an associated polarization of the debate. Accordingly, debaters speak past each other. By ideology, I mean beliefs and conceptualizations based on preexperiential commitments. For example, a theory exists that environmental values are, or can be measured as, economic values. This view privileges the market, shifting the burden to those who would interfere with markets; growth is implicitly accepted as a dominating good. On the other hand, advocates for a theory that nature has “intrinsic” value call for deeply revising growth plans, citing obligations to the natural world as overriding human-oriented values. Proponents on both sides of this debate base their arguments on a theory of value rather than on attempts to use ideologically neutral language to describe and to test hypotheses about values. Commitment to a theory of value shapes the values noticed by advocates of that theory, identifies the noticed values with a type of value, and creates the categories cited in arguments to protect species and biodiversity. If we choose our biological categories because of a priori, preexperiential theory, it will be difficult to link science and values together, because the terminology, observations, and data sought will differ according to a nonempirical theory. I have argued elsewhere that this polarization results from the misleading opposition between anthropocentric economists and advocates of intrinsic value in nature (Norton 1991, 2005). Because advocates of these two theories/paradigms for expressing environmental values characterize values in incommensurable ways, discourse is characterized by disagreements about the nature of the problem, the goals to be pursued, and the nature of the social values considered worth protecting. These very different perspectives for valuing nature set the tone for a noisy, but unproductive, debate about goals for protecting species and biological diversity. I disagree with those who argue that the Endangered Species Act should be interpreted as attributing intrinsic value to species. The admission that intrinsic value
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claims are largely unresolvable by experience or empirical evidence makes them ideological—and positively unhelpful in the policy debates. It polarizes discussion by highlighting differences about why we should save species, when the real problem is the need to do something, cooperatively, to protect biodiversity, since it is widely valued for many reasons. It can be argued that the most divisive aspect of this polarization is that both sides insist they have the correct theory of value, and that all values that count must count in their accounting framework. This insistence locks both sides into a framework of analysis that expresses their ideological commitment to a theory about the “nature” of environmental value; communication and compromise become unlikely. Such theories have been characterized by Christopher Stone as “monistic”—defined as the belief that there is a “single coherent and complete set of principles capable of governing all moral quandaries” (Stone 1987, 116). We can bypass this turf war by adopting a pluralistic stance based on the observable fact that people express their valuing of nature in many ways, all of which can legitimately be called “human values.” In fact, the original authors of the Endangered Species Act listed the social values they thought would be served by protecting species without interpreting these values as fitting either of the competing, single-valued theories of value. Once we adopt this reasonable, if unranked, list of values—esthetic, ecological, educational, historical, recreational, and scientific—discussion will shift from a tug-of-war over values to a more focused discussion of goals. However that debate comes out, the point is that saving biodiversity supports a range of values. The list is not competitive from a policy standpoint; stronger biodiversity legislation would protect all of these values. In many cases, we know what should be done, even if supporters of pro-environmental policies offer different justifications based in different worldviews, and using very different language. On the nonideological, pluralistic view, values associated with protection are additive, not competitive. What is important is to motivate governments and communities to address the biodiversity crisis; we do not have to agree on an abstract characterization of “the value of biodiversity” to agree that actions to protect biodiversity are justified. The same policies—those that successfully protect the most important kinds of biodiversity— are likely to protect all or most of these values. Saving biodiversity is good policy, however it is justified. Value pluralism can be wedded to an experimental spirit (“adaptive management”) in which discussion participants are encouraged to express values in their own terms but to then explain and discuss these values with others; this process encourages creation of common concepts for expressing values (Norton and Steinemann 2003). Over time, we can assess whether the terms and definitions of value categories serve the purpose of communication. This process, in other words, opens the possibility of consciously developing more effective linguistic tools for characterizing environmental values and threats to them. Defining biodiversity thus becomes part of this ongoing quest for a definition that captures both the values of a diverse biota and the best science of the day while also encouraging an open discussion of the importance of protecting biodiversity. Since it seems impossible to save all of life’s diversity, we are faced with choices. The mandate to conserve biodiversity must be accompanied by an understanding of which aspects of diversity should be saved if we are to preserve the values that justify
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conservation policies. The dilemma: which comes first, the egg of social values or the chicken of good biological science? By using the list in the Endangered Species Act as a tentative list of social values associated with biodiversity protection, we can state a clear definition for policy contexts: biodiversity should refer to those aspects of natural variety that are socially important enough to obligate protection of those aspects for future generations. We must examine the best thinking of biologists on defining the term “biodiversity” before returning to the policy implications of our argument.
2.2 Biological Definitions of Biodiversity Diversity has long been an important term in the literature of both biology and ecology, so, from the perspective of biologists, biodiversity is simply the diversity that exists in the biological world. However, diversity has been given several meanings. For example, there is a longstanding debate about whether diversity is better captured by total species counts or whether some degree of evenness in the comparative size of populations should also be taken into account. More profoundly, biodiversity is multifaceted—it encompasses diversity at multiple, nested scales of complex systems. R. H. Whittaker referred to three types: Alpha, Beta, and Gamma diversity, which today are usually referred to as “within-habitat,” “cross-habitat,” and “total diversity” (Whittaker 1960, Norton 1987).
2.2.1 Inventory Definitions and Difference Definitions David Takacs asked twenty-one leading biologists to define biodiversity (Takacs 1996). The answers range widely, and few stress the same aspects of biologically diverse systems. One important difference is the extent to which they emphasize the dynamic aspects of biodiversity. There is a common-sense distinction, of course, between products and processes, between stocks of diverse entities and the ongoing flow of evolutionary processes. These processes generate and sustain biodiversity, so it is important to include them in a definition. The definitions can usefully be divided into two types: inventory definitions and difference definitions. E. O. Wilson, for example, provides an inventory when he defines biodiversity as “the variety of life across all levels of organization from genic diversity within populations, to species, which have to be regarded as the pivotal unit of classification, to ecosystems. Each level can be treated either independently or together to give a total picture. And each can be treated either locally or globally” (Takacs 1996, 50). Similarly, Daniel Janzen defines biodiversity as “the whole package of genes, populations, species, and the cluster of interactions that they manifest” (Takacs 1996, 48). Peter Brussard recognizes the prominence of inventory-type definitions, asserting that the “standard definition” of biodiversity is species diversity, diversity of communities or habitats that species combine into, and the genetic diversity within species (Takacs 1996, 46).
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Difference definitions, on the other hand, emphasize the complexities and interrelations among biological entities. Several of Takacs’s scientists reflect this emphasis: “I think of it as fundamentally a measure of difference,” says Donald Falk (Takacs 1996, 47); Paul Wood says simply that biodiversity is “the sum total of differences among biological entities” (Wood 1997, 2000, 41). Difference definitions link biodiversity to a “difference” function. They emphasize differences among entities rather than inventorying entities that exemplify differences. Wood captures this variation in types of definitions by noting that we can characterize diversity in terms either of “biological entities that are different from one another,” or as “differences among biological entities” (Wood 2000, 41). The former approach emphasizes the entities involved, while the latter focuses on “an environmental condition or state of affairs relative to the entities” (Wood 2000, 41). At the species level, for example, a difference definition would emphasize species that are the only one in their genus and would favor genera with no close relatives. Inventory definitions, which identify biodiversity with the sum total of entities that differ from each other, aspire to being additive—one increases biodiversity of a collection by adding elements different from that collection; the relative novelty of a species is not important to an inventory definition. Both inventory definitions and difference definitions can capture the dynamic aspects of diversity. An “inventory” of diverse entities can, in principle, include dynamic aspects. Janzen, for example, says that biodiversity is “[the] whole package of genes, populations, species, and the cluster of interactions that they manifest” (Takacs 1996, 48) thus including interactive processes as part of his inventory. Another definition simply refers to biodiversity as the sum total of the processes creating biodiversity. For example, Terry Erwin defines biodiversity as “the product of organic evolution, that is, the diversity of life in all its manifestations,” which emphasizes processes even when the focus is on the products of processes. While both inventory definitions and difference definitions can include the dynamic aspects of biodiversity, the latter focus on this aspect and thus more accurately portray the function of process in maintaining biodiversity (Takacs 1996, 47). Difference definitions help us to see what is most valuable in diversity at all levels because they reveal the role of diversity in biological creativity. R. H. Whittaker hypothesized that “diversity begets diversity,” that diverse elements undergoing diverse processes will generate more diversity (Whittaker 1960, Norton 1987). This hypothesis also suggests that losses of diversity can create further losses: species become threatened as their mutualists become endangered or extinct. Diversity provides options for further creativity—and diversity is important as a contributor to that dynamic. Consider agricultural crops: most production comes from domesticated and even genetically modified seed stock, while wild varieties produce only a tiny portion of the world’s food crops. If, however, a major disease breaks out in domestic lines, the existence of wild varieties—with their greater genetic and morphological diversity— might contain the genetic resistance needed to reestablish domestic productivity. Biological diversity is thus not a resource among other resources. That is, differences in biological entities contribute only indirectly to agricultural production. Differences among biological entities are the source of substitutions, of improved seeds, and of new adaptations (Wood 2000). This has strong implications for the ways we assign values to diverse ecosystems. For example, it calls into question the goal
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of equating the values found in nature to the concept of “ecosystem services” and to the monetary values derived from these services because, if biodiversity cannot be represented as an additive quantity, it seems unlikely that it can be represented as a quantity of dollar values. (Daily [1997, 366] acknowledges this point. See also Paul Wood’s [1997] argument that biodiversity cannot be considered a “resource” among other resources because it is in fact the “source” of biological resources.) Employing the distinction between inventory and difference definitions, I argue for two theses. First, neither type of definition can provide a comprehensive accounting of what we mean by biodiversity. Second, there are nevertheless good biological reasons to favor difference definitions over inventory definitions. However, inventory definitions may nonetheless prove important in public discourse.
2.2.2 The Impossibility of Addition Biodiversity cannot be defined in such a way as to make it a measurable quantity. That is, we cannot provide an index allowing us to rate ecosystems or collections of entities according to their degree of diversity. Wood explains this point by noting that because diversity is multidimensional and because its dimensions are not commensurable, it is difficult to define. Diversity cannot therefore be reduced to one commensurable statistic (2000, 49). To illustrate Wood’s concern, consider the following case: assume a functioning ecological system made up of n species; if one more species invades the system and establishes itself, without losing any species, there is an increment in diversity to the level n +1. Suppose instead we expand the system by adding another system—another habitat that shares some species with the original—for example, a storm opens a large clearing in a once-dense forest—but the new system has additional species and a range of relationships and functions that were not present in the original system (this would be an increase in “cross-habitat diversity” rather than “within-habitat diversity”). We might avoid double counting in an inventory-style definition by not counting the duplicative species in the added system, but the resulting list of species would not capture the real impact on biodiversity represented by additions of cross-habitat diversity. Adding cross-habitat diversity also introduces a range of genetic and behavioral functions and relationships that are important to biodiversity but not captured in the new species list. Thus, as a technical matter, inventory definitions imply a form of commensurability and ability to aggregate across collections that is impossible and thus misleading. A similar argument applies also to difference definitions. Philosopher of biology Sahotra Sarkar (2005), citing similar reasons, suggests that no satisfactory definition of biodiversity is possible. He argues that biodiversity is usually understood to include two hierarchies—a spatial hierarchy from biological molecules to communities and ecosystems, and a taxonomic hierarchy based in genetic lineages—but that the differences mapped by these hierarchies are not additive. Each hierarchy represents a significant and different form of diversity, a form that must be included in any comprehensive accounting of differences among biological entities (Sarkar 2005, 178). Again, we are forced to conclude that biodiversity—whether conceived as an inventory of differing
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objects or as a difference function applicable to groups of entities—cannot be defined as an additive index capable of ranking systems or collections of entities as more or less diverse. The conclusion that biodiversity cannot be defined as an additive quantity may initially seem disastrous. If biologists cannot provide a quantitative index of biodiversity, does it follow that their recommendation that we preserve biodiversity is meaningless? Does it mean that biologists do not have a common understanding of what we should be trying to save? Perhaps not. Biologists can often decide how to save biodiversity even when they cannot define it. For many purposes, the term “works” to guide action because we can act cooperatively on the assumption that “we know it when we see it.” To define a term, on the other hand, is to connect it to other words—not actions— that are theoretically, and often ideologically, loaded. It may be that the variation in definitions has more to do with biologists’ linguistic habits and their theoretical commitments than with their conservation activities. Furthermore, we need not be dismayed by the lack of a quantifiable definition of biodiversity, given what we learned from Dewey. We should not expect that biodiversity will denote some preexistent, biological parameter; nor should we expect biodiversity to be precisely measurable. What we are looking for is a term and attendant definition that fulfills two conditions. It must be “clear enough” to enable communication about what to do. That is, can practitioners use the term to agree upon policies that will protect biodiversity, as understood in that community? Second, it must be rich enough to capture all that we mean by, and value in, nature. These features are so diverse that they cannot be made precise and measurable. The question is not, can we precisely define it? Rather, the question is, are members of the community able to act in concert? The answer is that major conservation groups in the United States agree about many of the steps required to protect biodiversity. Although disagreements exist regarding priorities and tactics, conservation groups generally agree about the need for policies that create open space, protect riparian corridors, and so forth. The term is clear enough to usefully guide policy within the community of practitioners and advocates. The remaining question is whether the term will be politically successful in communicating the importance of biodiversity to policy makers and the public. Ideally, public discourse about biodiversity protection would suggest better ways to articulate the needs of biological conservation.
2.3 Biodiversity in Public Policy Discourse A major task of environmentalists and conservation biologists should be to develop better means of communicating biological and ecological information to policy makers and the public. When Thomas Lovejoy, a respected scientist and a policy leader, was asked by Takacs about the meaning of biodiversity, he said, “The term is really supposed to mean diversity at all levels of organization. But the way it’s most often used is basically relating to species diversity. I think for short operational purposes, that species diversity is good shorthand. . . .It’s the most easily measured, and it’s the one at which
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the measures are the least controversial. But you’re really talking about more than that. You’re talking about the way species are put together into larger entities and you’re talking about genetic diversity within a species” (Takacs 1996, 48). Here, then, we have a leading biologist and conservationist advocating a more complex definition for scientific accuracy but a simpler definition for shorthand in policy contexts. The arguments suggest that difference definitions are superior for capturing the biological understanding of biodiversity, while the interests of communication with policy makers and the public are better served by inventory definitions. It is perhaps ironic that a key biological weakness of inventory definitions— their tendency to encourage false hope of a quantified measure of biodiversity—also makes them popular with policy makers intent on tallying wins and losses in the effort to save biodiversity. Difference definitions, on the other hand, show the value of biodiversity as a source of options and opportunities— but these fare poorly in policy debates. Perhaps this highlights the importance for scientists and policy makers of talking openly about ways to improve communication. Rather than clinging to definitions that don’t work, we can investigate which terms and linguistic forms are conducive to communication and cooperative behavior within the community seeking to protect the wonders of the biologically diverse world. As noted earlier, we can use bridge terms, such as “ecological integrity,” that have both empirical and evaluative content. An alternative strategy is to pair terms; for example, “biodiversity” would be paired with another, less technical, term that would be used in discourse with the public and policy makers. Recent opinion research shows that less than 60 percent of Americans are familiar with the term “biodiversity” and some are actively hostile toward it. On the other hand, the phrase “web of life” seems to resonate better with many Americans. This empirical information suggests that “web of life” be used in place of “biodiversity” when addressing policy makers and the public. “Biodiversity” could then maintain its scientific rigor while linked to a more intuitive idea with broader public appeal.
References Daily, G. C. (1997). Nature’s services: societal dependence on natural ecosystems. Washington, DC: Island Press. Darwin, C. (1859). The origin of species by means of natural selection, or the preservation of favoured races in the struggle for life. A facsimile of the first edition. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Dewey, J. (1910). The influence of Darwin on philosophy and other essays in contemporary thought. New York: Henry Holt. Norton, B. G. (1987). Why preserve natural variety? Studies in moral, political, and legal philosophy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Norton, B. G. (1991.) Toward unity among environmentalists. New York: Oxford University Press. Norton, B. G. (2005). Sustainability: a philosophy of adaptive ecosystem management. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Norton, B. G., & A. Steinemann. (2003). Environmental values and adaptive management. In B. G. Norton (Ed.), Searching for sustainability: interdisciplinary essays on the philosophy of conservation biology (pp. 514–48). New York: Cambridge University Press. Sarkar, S. (2005). Biodiversity and environmental philosophy: an introduction. New York: Cambridge University Press.
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Stone, C. (1987). Earth and other ethics: the case for moral pluralism. New York: Harper and Row. Takacs, D. (1996). The idea of biodiversity: philosophies of paradise. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press. Whittaker, R. H. (1960). Vegetation of the Siskiyou Mountains, Oregon and California. Ecological Monographs, 30, 279–338. Wood, P. M. (1997). Biodiversity as the source of biological resources: a new look at biodiversity values. Environmental Values, 6, 251–68. Wood, P. M. (2000). Biodiversity and democracy: rethinking society and nature. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press.
Chapter 3
Navigating for Noah: Setting New Directions for Endangered Species Protection in the 21st Century Karin P. Sheldon
Abstract The Endangered Species Act (ESA) recognizes the impact of human activities on animals and plants and expresses Congress’ intent to halt extinction and restore species to their natural abundance. Although the goals of the ESA include conserving the ecosystems upon which endangered species depend, none of the statute’s implementation provisions directly address ecosystem protection. Rather, they are focused on the individual species themselves. Saving species one at a time is not a successful strategy for saving wildlife, especially in the face of climate change. Habitat loss is the primary threat to species; habitat conservation is the best way to address the problem of species extinction. Vitalizing the ecosystem goal of the ESA and creating a biological diversity land conservation system in the United States are two ways to assure long term species survival.
3.1 Introduction If you went to Scout Camp as a child, as I did, you may recall a song that included the memorable lines, “Noah he built him, he built him an ark-y ark-y, built it out of hickory bark-y bark-y. . . .The animals they came on, they came on by twosies, twosies, elephants and kangaroosies, roosies.” The song recounts the biblical story of Noah who was instructed to build an ark to save the animals when God sent a great flood to punish human beings for their sins. Like the parable of Noah, the Endangered Species Act (ESA) recognizes the often harmful effects of human activities on animals and plants. The statute declares that species extinction is “a consequence of economic growth and development untempered by adequate concern and conservation.”1 To atone for these modern-day sins, Congress determined to enact a law, aimed at both federal agencies and private citizens, that would halt extinction and restore species to their natural abundance. While Noah built an ark to shelter the animals during the flood—essentially providing them with temporary habitat—Congress chose measures for the ESA that focus on the individual members of the species to be assisted, rather than on their environments. Thus the ESA’s protections apply wherever imperiled species travel or live. This is a bit like Noah issuing water wings or scuba gear, helpful in some respects, but not a true solution to the real problem created for wildlife by human activities. The destruction and degradation of habitat by human development is the greatest cause of the decline and disappearance of wildlife and plant species. Indeed, habitat damage R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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is the principle basis for the endangerment of more than 80% of the species currently listed or proposed for listing under the ESA.2 The ESA’s focus on individual species is understandable. At the time the statute was enacted, our perception of the causes of extinction reflected our historical experience with massive over-harvesting of wildlife (everyone’s favorite example is the passenger pigeon). The unrestrained slaughter of animals and birds for food, fashion and sport during the early years of European exploration and settlement of North America prompted the enactment of state and federal wildlife laws aimed at controlling this decimation, initially to assure the availability of important sources of food and later in recognition of wildlife’s intrinsic value.3 The ESA is perhaps the ultimate expression of our sense of responsibility to protect and preserve wildlife, regardless of whether it can be eaten, worn or used in some other utilitarian manner. Although Congress adopted a species-specific emphasis in the ESA, it did acknowledge the importance of the environment to species survival. The goals of the ESA are not only to protect plant and animal species in danger of extinction, but also to provide “a means to conserve the ecosystems upon which [these species] depend.”4 The term “ecosystem” was not commonly used in 1973, and there is some debate about whether Congress actually knew what it meant. The ecosystem reference appears only once, in the preamble of the statute. After that, none of the ESA’s implementation mechanisms directly address ecosystem conservation. It is not evident that Congress equated the term “ecosystem” with “habitat” since the ESA does not provide much in the way of habitat protection either. Essentially, Congress identified an important goal for the ESA without providing any means of achieving it. The ESA’s failure to include substantive ecosystem conservation measures severely limits the statute’s reach and utility. In our unending pursuit of growth and development, we have lost far more than individual species. We have lost, indeed we continue to lose, whole ecosystems. Conservation biologists have identified 27 types of critically endangered ecosystems in the United States, among them Pacific Northwest old growth forest, tall-grass prairie, and Midwestern savannas and wetlands.5 Many of our ecosystems disappeared early in our history—so we don’t know what we had because it’s gone. Some 96% of the virgin forests of the northeastern and central states were logged by 1920. The long leaf pine forest of the Southeast has been reduced by 98% since European settlement and is the nation’s most endangered forest ecosystem.6 Yet the ESA includes no mechanisms to enable us to restore these treasures as a whole, or to prevent similar loss in the future. Ecology has taught us some valuable lessons since the ESA was enacted in 1973. When the ESA was new, ecosystems were thought to exist in a steady-state equilibrium, the so-called “balance of nature” that could be understood and maintained by human management. Many of our early environmental statutes were based on this “equilibrium paradigm.”7 We now know that the paradigm is wrong. Ecosystems do not exist in picture perfect, balanced equilibrium. They are dynamic and unpredictable, sometimes chaotic. Ecological processes, which of course include the activities and interactions of animals and plants, take place over landscapes and regions.8 Thus the old approach to species conservation exemplified by the ESA has real limitations in its methods and scientific underpinnings. The map for endangered species protection in the 21st century must acknowledge these realities and provide opportunities to adapt the law and our management regimes to the lessons we continue to learn
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about how nature works. Today, especially in the face of global climate change, our flexibility to respond to changed environmental conditions will be absolutely vital for wildlife survival.
3.2 The ESA Today: A Brief Overview Before we set sail in a new direction, it is useful to refer to the old map for a review of the ESA as it works today. In brief, in order to restore imperiled species and halt further decline, the ESA requires federal agencies and private citizens to consider the impact of development activities on those species of animals and plants that have been identified as in danger of extinction in all or a major part of their habitats. The Act prohibits those actions, whether governmental or private, that would be likely to cause a species to slip over the brink into oblivion or damage habitat identified as essential to basic life activities such as breeding and shelter. Decisions about the effect of such actions are made through “consultation” with the wildlife experts of the Department of the Interior’s Fish and Wildlife Service. The ESA also prohibits “taking” of individual members of a species, either by a direct assault, such as hunting or trapping, or an indirect assault, such as cutting down the trees in which protected species nest. There is an exception to this ban for “incidental” taking that occurs in the course of development activities conducted under an approved “habitat conservation plan.” The ESA calls for imperiled species to be recovered to the point that the protections of the Act are no longer necessary. Species that have been extirpated from their habitats may be reintroduced in an effort to restore the traditional wildlife balance to an area. To halt the exploitation of threatened and endangered species worldwide, the ESA includes an international convention banning illegal wildlife trade. Now I turn to the specifics.
3.2.1 The Endangered Species List Just as Noah marked off the names of the animals at the door of the ark, Congress decided that there must be a list of imperiled species in order for agencies and the public to know what to protect. Thus, regardless of its rarity or vulnerability to destruction from human activities, a species is not subject to the ESA until it is “listed”9 by the Secretary of the Interior as either “endangered” or “threatened” throughout all or a portion of its range.10 A species may be listed when it is in trouble in part of its habitat, even if a large population exists in another part. For example, wolves are listed as threatened in the lower 48 states, although there is still a significant wolf population in Alaska. The ESA also permits the listing of subspecies and distinct populations,11 which is extremely useful for protecting individual runs of salmon and other species that have evolved discrete characteristics at the population level. The Secretary’s decision to list is to be based “solely on the . . .best scientific and commercial information available” about the biological status of the species, without regard to economic, social or political factors.12
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3.2.2 Critical Habitat Designation Concurrent with listing, the Secretary of the Interior is required to designate as “Critical Habitat” that portion of a species’ territory considered to be essential for breeding, feeding, and shelter.13 Critics claim that Critical Habitat designation adds little substantive protection for listed species because it does not impose any specific management requirements or additional protections for listed species.14 Moreover, the Secretary of the Interior must consider the economic and “any other relevant impact” of specifying Critical Habitat.15 Such considerations affect the location and extent of the habitat that would otherwise be characterized as critical.
3.2.3 Conservation and Recovery The fundamental goal of the ESA is to bring species back from the brink and restore them to the point where they no longer need protection. Listed species must be “conserved,” which Congress defined to mean that federal agencies must do whatever is necessary to recover species so they can be safely removed from the endangered species list.16 “Recovery plans” identify the steps to accomplish this goal and are to include specific means, measures, and timetables.17
3.2.4 Consultation The ESA has sometimes been called the “pit bull of environmental statutes.” This is an unfortunate label, both for the ESA and the dog, but it does indicate a significant difference between the ESA and other environmental statutes, particularly other wildlife laws. The ESA requires all federal agencies to “consult” with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service or the National Marine Fisheries Service (if marine mammals or anadromous fish are at issue) before undertaking any actions that may “jeopardize the continued existence” of listed species or damage designated Critical Habitat. If, after consultation, the Fish and Wildlife Service concludes that jeopardy to a species may result from a proposed action, the action must be altered or stopped.18 No other federal statute includes such a hammer. The most famous example of the effect of the jeopardy provision is the Tellico Dam, a nearly completed, multi-million dollar project that was halted by a species of very small fish. The Fish and Wildlife Service concluded that the dam would wipe out the remaining habitat of the only known population of the endangered snail darter. The Supreme Court upheld the decision to stop the dam, finding that the ESA expressed Congress’ view that the value of endangered species is “incalculable.”19 I suspect that most people would agree when the species being admired is a charismatic megafauna or fuzzy and cute. But would they agree on the incalculable value of the razorback sucker or Delhi Sands flower-loving fly?
3.2.5 Ban on Taking The ESA prohibits killing or harming listed species or damaging their habitat by anyone, including private citizens.20 Taking is broadly defined as both a direct assault
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on the species and/or damage to habitat, if such damage results in species death. For example, the Supreme Court ruled that cutting the nesting trees of red cockaded woodpeckers constituted impermissible harm to the species.21 (A biologist hearing this pronouncement from the Supreme Court would likely be dumbfounded that there was even a question about the relationship between habitat damage and species harm.) The ban on the taking of listed species does not mean that a private landowner who finds himself playing host to an endangered species cannot develop his property. The ESA was amended in 1982 to add an exception allowing private landowners to develop their property, even if a few members of a listed species are killed or damaged in the process. Landowners must prepare a Habitat Conservation Plan or HCP designed to minimize and mitigate the impact of development on the species and receive a permit from the Fish and Wildlife Service that the take will be “incidental.”22 The HCP idea came from a group of citizens, environmentalists, local government officials and developers in San Bruno, California who worked together to create a plan resolving a decade-long dispute over development in privately owned endangered butterfly habitat. Congress was so impressed with the success of the HCP approach that in 1982 it incorporated it into the ESA.23 It is the only provision in the ESA that deals with protecting habitat on privately owned lands, and was added to accommodate the interests of private property while fulfilling the ESA’s basic mandate to conserve and recover threatened and endangered species.
3.2.6 Reintroduction Species extirpated from their historical habitats or ranges may be re-introduced and managed until they reoccupy their original ecological niches.24 The best known example of a successful reintroduction effort is the restoration of the gray wolf to Yellowstone Park and northern Idaho. In 1995, 32 wolves were brought to Yellowstone and northern Idaho. Today the population is estimated to be more than 1,240.25 Wolves once were common across the United States. They were wiped out with a vengeance in the 1800s and into the 1930s. It is ironic that one of the first species to be listed under the ESA was the gray wolf.
3.2.7 Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) CITES is a multi-national agreement within the ESA that attempts to stem the tide of illegal poaching and trade in endangered species around the world.26 CITES serves as the endangered species law for many countries that otherwise lack regulatory protection for imperiled wildlife.
3.3 New Directions for Noah The ESA has achieved some wonderful success but, as Noah himself may have realized, saving individual, or even pairs of, animals is not ultimately a winning strategy
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for saving wildlife, and is certainly not the way to preserve or restore the ecosystems on which wildlife depends. Some land managing agencies have made progress using indicator, keystone or umbrella species as surrogates for ecosystem protection—an example would be the northern spotted owl as a surrogate for protecting old growth forests—but the approach has significant limitations. It may help assure species composition in a particular habitat, but it does not sustain the functions and processes of the habitat that are essential to the long term viability of species. E.O. Wilson observed that there are four causes of species loss, which he termed “the mindless horsemen of the environmental apocalypse.”27 They are overkill, habitat destruction, introduction of non-native species, and diseases carried by invading species. Wilson ranked habitat destruction “foremost among these lethal forces,” followed by the invasion of non-native species, which often accompanies habitat degradation. Wilson noted that “each agent strengthens the others in a tightening net of destruction.”28 Since habitat loss is the primary factor threatening species, habitat conservation is the best way to address the problem of species extinction. And here we must expand our concept of habitat beyond the land, air and water through which a species passes as it lives its life to encompass all the functions and processes of its supporting ecosystem(s). When we refer to habitat, we must mean ecosystems. There are a number of ways to conserve ecosystems for wildlife. Two possible approaches are to vitalize the ecosystem protection goal of the ESA and/or to create a biological diversity land conservation system in the United States.
3.3.1 Vitalize the Ecosystem Protection Goal Although the word ecosystem appears only once in the ESA, it is reasonable to read an ecosystem protection mandate in the Act’s purposes and directives. Federal agencies could implement the ESA with ecosystem protection in mind at each relevant step of the ESA process, beginning with listing. The “best scientific information” on the status of a species proposed for listing could include data on the condition of the ecosystem supporting that species. The ESA already identifies “the present or threatened destruction, modification, or curtailment of [a species’] habitat or range”29 as an appropriate consideration for the decision to list. Broadening the assessment to include damage or destruction of ecosystem functions and processes would go a long way to make the connection between the health of a species and its whole environment. Critical Habitat designations would gain flesh and teeth if the Secretary identified the ecosystems essential to species’ viability and recovery. These ecosystems might well require additional management or support mechanisms in order to be sufficiently healthy to sustain species. As a consequence, Critical Habitat would have a definite independent utility. Other ESA processes lend themselves to ecosystem considerations. Consultation with the Fish and Wildlife Service on the consequences of proposed governmental actions could evaluate the potential for jeopardy resulting from ecosystem damage. Recovery and Habitat Conservation Plans could be written so that the “site-specific
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management actions,” “objective, measurable criteria,” and time frames called for by the ESA include conservation of the whole environment in which a species lives. For private lands that are part of a larger ecosystem, an HCP could address the consequences of fragmentation and interference with ecosystem functions and processes. The benefits of an ecosystem approach to ESA implementation would be even more pronounced for the protection of multiple, rather than individual species. The Fish and Wildlife Service could group its listing decisions by ecosystem and develop and implement recovery plans for communities of plants and animals. The agency could conduct its status reviews of species that may be candidates for listing on an ecosystem basis or designate ecosystems as Critical Habitat for multiple species. In the consultation process, both the Fish and Wildlife Service and the action agency could evaluate the potential for jeopardy to the ecosystems that support multiple species of concern. Such an evaluation seems particularly suited to consultations on programmatic or coordinated actions of one or more agencies. Programmatic actions are those plans, programs, and frameworks established for the purpose of guiding a number of related individual projects. As such, programmatic actions offer the opportunity to set ecosystem protection standards for multiple specific activities. Coordinated actions involve a number of federal agencies in joint efforts and are an important occasion to consider the interrelated, collective effects of these actions on endangered species and ecosystems. An example is PACFISH, an aquatic habitat and riparian management strategy developed by the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management to deal with Snake River salmon species.30 The PACFISH strategy was designed to benefit multiple anadromous fish species across five states. Such an approach is definitely a step in the right direction. Finally, Habitat Conservation Plans are a logical place to incorporate ecosystem factors. In 1996, the Fish and Wildlife Service recognized the value of habitat-based HCPs when it identified two “alternative” HCPs in the Habitat Conservation Planning Handbook issued jointly with the National Marine Fisheries Service.31 The first of these alternatives focuses on specific habitat types in order to reach a broader range of species than would be included in a typical HCP. The second is a Programmatic HCP that can be used to address a group of proposed development actions, rather than deal with them one at a time in separate HCPs.32 It is unfortunate that the agencies have not made greater use of these alternatives in the years since the Habitat Conservation Planning Handbook was published. In the future, such forward looking approaches could improve implementation of the ESA and help move toward fulfillment of the Act’s ecosystem defense goal.
3.3.2 Establish a Biodiversity Land Conservation System Regardless of whether the ESA is interpreted to promote ecosystem protection, there remains a tremendous need to establish a biodiversity land conservation system in the United States. The United States is the “most ecologically diverse nation on earth,”33 so we have much to work with, and much to save. The goal of a biodiversity conservation system is to knit together the national landscape to protect and enhance wildlife species. Such a system would involve both private and public lands strategically chosen and linked by a variety of creative legal arrangements.
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The imperative for this biodiversity knitting project grows as the effects of climate change on wildlife become more evident. In times past, according to the fossil record, species adapted to changes in the climate, not by evolving in place, but by moving to new locations. Today, habitat damage and fragmentation interfere with species’ ability to disperse to more suitable environments.34 As we design a conservation land system, we must keep in mind some basic principles of ecology. Protected areas must be sufficiently big to insure the long-term survival of all the species within them. Large, wide ranging critters, in particular, need large habitats that provide adequate food, shelter, and security. A conservation system must be a network of lands connected across habitats to allow animals to move seasonally to locations that provide food, shelter, and areas for breeding. Corridors and connectivity will become increasingly critical as climate change impacts the environmental conditions currently supporting both plants and animals. A conservation land system must maintain in-place environmental characteristics such as elevation, light angles, soil moisture, and other conditions crucial to ecosystem functions. It must also protect refugia that shelter animal and plant species of limited mobility. Examples include crevices and ravines where, hopefully, animals and plants can wait out climate alterations and at some point in the future spread out and recolonize a former territory.35
3.3.3 Federal Public Lands With these principles in mind, federal public lands are a very good place to begin building a conservation land system. The United States owns about 671.8 million acres of land—29% of the nation’s land base.36 There is federal land in every state. While a dozen states have fewer than a half-million acres of federal land within their borders, another dozen have over ten million acres.37 These federal lands support an astonishing array of wildlife and plants, both common and rare. These range from totemic American animals, such as grizzly bear, bison, wolverine, wolf, and mountain lion, to a myriad of small mammals, birds, reptiles, and fish. Nearly 25% of North American mammals are endemic—that is, they occur nowhere else.38 These homegrown species include the black-footed ferret, the pronghorn, and the mountain beaver.39 Federal lands are particularly vital to the survival of wide-ranging, large, and fierce animals. Private lands cannot provide the habitat, range size, food, and security these species require.40 Furthermore, federal lands harbor nearly half of all species listed under the ESA, and nearly 12% of listed species are found exclusively on federal lands.41 One significant way to boost the protective capacity of the federal lands would be to connect areas of protected lands. Designated conservation areas, such as wildlife refuges, national parks, and wilderness, could be combined with the roadless, undeveloped lands in national forests and Bureau of Land Management lands and managed in a coordinated way to sustain biodiversity. The combination of conservation and roadless lands would increase ecosystem representation and the size of habitat blocks necessary to support species requiring large ranges.42
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Unfortunately, federal lands alone will not suffice to sustain a biodiversity land conservation system. By virtue of our history, the most biologically productive areas of the United States are not in public ownership. From the moment Europeans arrived to “discover” the North American continent, low elevation lands with water, good soils, forage, and forest cover were transferred to private hands, through means legal and not. The lands that were left tended to be more arid, at higher elevations, and less biologically diverse. All federal and tribal lands have large gaps in their coverage of ecosystem diversity. Of the 135 major terrestrial and wetland ecosystem types in the United States, nine are not represented at all on any federal or tribal lands. A shocking fact is that more than half of all the major ecosystem types are missing from the National Wildlife Refuge System, the only component of the federal lands established explicitly for wildlife conservation.43 The refuge system was created primarily to protect migratory waterfowl along the flyways of the midwest and coastal areas of the southeast. While the scope of the refuge system has been expanded in recent years to include threatened and endangered species and other wildlife, the majority of wildlife refuges are still habitat for ducks. Furthermore, our federal land units are too small to be optimal for protecting ecosystems or wide ranging species and are not managed primarily for species or ecosystem protection.44 Yellowstone Park is a prime example. At 2.2 million acres, it is a pretty fair piece of real estate. But it is a small portion of the 14 million acre Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, which maintains a relatively intact diversity of species and ecosystem processes. Unfortunately a “Greater Ecosystem” is not yet a recognized legal designation or management regime. So we rely on Yellowstone Park to be a safe haven for wildlife. The problem is that the wildlife in question does not always know that it is supposed to stay within Park boundaries. When wolves and bears and bison wander out of the Park, they get into trouble with surrounding ranchers and state governments.
3.3.4 Private Lands Private lands must be part of any comprehensive biodiversity protection system. The most biologically productive lands in the United States are in private ownership. Private lands harbor more than 60% of all federally listed endangered species. Indeed, between one third and one half of all listed species do not spend any time on federal lands. Many endangered species are concentrated in “biodiversity hot spots” found in Hawaii and at lower elevations along the coastal areas of Alabama, Texas, and California.45 Private lands need not be acquired by government in order to play a key role in ecosystem protection. Such lands can be linked with public lands through creative arrangements such as protection partnerships, conservation easements, and corridor designations. A variety of incentives can be included in these arrangements to enhance the benefits landowners receive for their contribution to conservation. Examples include tax credits, cost sharing plans, compensation funds, and stewardship certifications. Private land arrangements work. A recent Land Trust Alliance census reports that the amount of private land protected doubled from 1999 to 2003, to more than nine million acres.46
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Habitat Conservation Plans for private lands are becoming increasingly common. As of 2006, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service had approved more than 440 HCPs, ranging in size from less than one acre to more than 10 million acres. HCPs protect from one to more than 100 species, both listed and unlisted.
3.3.5 State Lands States have considerable authority to protect wildlife and habitat.47 Indeed, wildlife has historically been regarded as a state public trust resource, subject to state management and stewardship. Although state wildlife management has traditionally focused on setting seasons and limits for hunting and fishing, many states are now engaged in efforts to support both game and non-game wildlife populations and their habitats. The State of California has been in the forefront of the effort with its Natural Communities Conservation Planning Program, an innovative strategy relying on both voluntary actions and regulatory controls to protect habitat areas that are home to multiple plant and animal communities.48 This program provides a model for sustaining numbers of rare and common species. States have become partners with federal agencies and groups such as The Nature Conservancy in habitat acquisition and wildlife programs. The Gap Analysis Project, for example, is a cooperative effort among federal and state agencies and universities. Gap analysis maps are extremely useful in identifying key areas for biodiversity protection.49 In 2001, Congress authorized new State Wildlife Grant and Wildlife Conservation and Restoration Programs to provide federal funding and assistance to states for the development and implementation of programs that benefit wildlife.50 The State Wildlife Grant Program required each state to develop a Comprehensive Wildlife Conservation Plan (also known as a Wildlife Action Plan) by 2005. The states were asked to identify and map wildlife habitats essential to the conservation of natural communities and the protection of plant and animal species at risk from human development and other threats. Many states have done an exceptional job in this effort and are now far better equipped to manage the range of wildlife species and habitats within their borders. Significant authority to address biodiversity protection also exists at the local level, although one may have to hunt to find it. Local land use laws are powerful tools for open space protection, flood plain zoning, wetland and sensitive areas protection. Forest practices acts, fish and game laws, and controls on sediment and erosion similarly provide authority for wildlife and habitat protection. Taken together, federal, state and private lands offer sufficient range and variety to endow a land system that will sustain functioning natural ecosystems and secure the future of this nation’s precious heritage of biological diversity. The idea of a national biodiversity conservation system is not an impossible dream. The costs of its establishment have been estimated at between five and eight billion dollars a year, sustained over a 30 year period.51 This may sound like a significant sum of money, even to secure a priceless heritage, but consider that it is less than one quarter of the annual cost of maintaining the national highway system, to say nothing of our spending on the military.
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3.4 Conclusion To set a new direction for Noah we must save more than the species on the brink of doom. We must protect both rare and common plant and animal species and the ecosystems that support them. Moreover, we must connect ecosystems across landscapes so that species can respond to climate changes by moving to more suitable habitat. To do this successfully we can interpret the ESA—perhaps as Congress intended when it included ecosystems in its charter—to address habitat destruction, the principle cause of species loss. We can also establish a biodiversity conservation system that includes all major ecosystem types, supports viable populations of native species in natural patterns of abundance and distribution, and sustains ecological and evolutionary processes.52 We must save some of everything, and enough of it to last. I began with the tale of Noah, but a better place may have been the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) creation story of Turtle Island. As the Haudenosaunee people recount it, when Skywoman was falling through a hole in the sky the earth was covered with water. The geese helped slow her fall, but could not support her in the air forever. They called upon the animals that lived in the water to make a place for her to land. Turtle rose out of the water and said she could settle on his back, but feared she would slide off. Beaver, Otter, and Muskrat then dove down to the bottom of the water to try to bring back mud to pile on Turtle’s shell. Muskrat succeeded and carried mud in his paws. The others patted it into place and the geese placed Skywoman gently on Turtle’s back. They all sang and Skywoman danced and the mud spread out in all directions making land to support other human beings and animals. The lesson of this story is telling. The animals and plants of this varied and lovely world worked together and provided habitat to support and sustain us. It is our turn to save them. I think Noah would agree.
Notes 1. Endangered Species Act (ESA), 16 U.S.C. §1531 (a) (1) (1973). 2. David S. Wilcove et al., Environmental Defense Fund, Rebuilding the Ark: Toward a More Effective Endangered Species Act for Private Land 2 (1996). 3. See generally Peter Mathiessen, Wildlife in America (1987), H. Borland, The History of Wildlife in America (1975). 4. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1531 (b). 5. Mark T. Bryer, Kathleen Maybury, Jonathan S. Adams & Dennis H. Grossman, More Than the Sum of the Parts, in The Nature Conservancy & Ass’n for Biodiversity Information, Precious Heritage: The Status of Biodivers ity in the United States 229 (Bruce A. Stein et al. eds., 2000) [hereafter Precious Heritage]. 6. Reed F. Noss & Allen Y. Cooperrider, Saving Nature’s Legacy: Protecting and Restoring Biodiversity 64 (1994). 7. A. Dan Tarlock, The Nonequilibrium Paradigm in Ecology and the Partial Unraveling of Environmental Law, 27 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 1121, 1122 (1994). 8. Reed F. Noss, Some Principles of Conservation Biology, As They Apply to Environmental Law, 69 Chi.-Kent L. Rev. 893 (1994). 9. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1533 (c). 10. Id. §1532 (6). 11. Id. §1532 (16). 12. Id. §1533 (b) (1) (a).
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13. Id. §1636 (b) (2). 14. Michael J. Bean & Melanie J. Rowland, The Evolution of National Wildlife Law 251 (3d ed. 1997). 15. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1533 (b) (2). 16. Id. §1532 (3). 17. Id. §1533 (f). 18. Id. § 1536. 19. Tennessee Valley Authority v. Hill, 437 U.S. 153 (1978). 20. ESA, 16 U.S.C. § 1538. 21. Babbitt v. Sweet Home Cmtys. for a Greater Ore., 515 U.S. 687 (1995). 22. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1539 (a). 23. Robert D. Thornton, Searching for Consensus and Predictability: Habitat Conservation Planning Under the Endangered Species Act of 1973, 21 Envtl. L. 605, 621 (1991); Karin P. Sheldon, Habitat Conservation Planning: Addressing the Achilles Heel of the Endangered Species Act, 6 N.Y.U. Envtl. L. J. 279, 297–299 (1998). 24. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1539 (j). 25. www.fws.gov/Midwest/wolf/population/status-map.htm. 26. ESA, 16 U.S.C. § 1537a. 27. Edward O. Wilson, The Diversity of Life 253 (1992). 28. Id. 29. ESA, 16 U.S.C. §1533 (a) (1) (A). 30. For details about the PACFISH strategy, see http://www.fs.fed.us/biology/fishecology/emp/index. html. 31. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service & National Marine Fisheries Service, Endangered Species Habitat Conservation Planning Handbook 1-1 (1996), available at 61 Fed. Reg. 63, 854 (1996). 32. Id. at 3-38-3-39. 33. Bryer et al., Precious Heritage, supra note 5, at 208. 34. Reed Noss, Climate Change Intensifies Need for Land Conservation, Cons ervation Northwes t Quarterly, 71, Fall 2007, available at http://www.conservationnw.org/library/ newsletter. 35. Id. 36. Carol Hardy Vincent, Congressional Research Service, The Library of Congress, RL32393, Federal Land Management Agencies: Background on Land and Resources Management 2 (2004), available at http://www.ncseonline.org/nle/crsreports/04Aug/RL32393.pdf. 37. Id. 38. B. Stein et al., Precious Heritage, supra note 5, at 55–92. 39. Id. at 55, 70–71. 40. Karin P. Sheldon, Upstream of Peril: The Role of Federal Lands in Addressing the Extinction Crisis, 24 Pace Envtl. L. Rev. 1, 5 (2007); J. Christopher Haney & Christopher Herbst, Lost in Space: Making Geographic Sense out of Species Imperilment, Habitat, and the Endangered Species Act 9 (Sept. 2006) (unpublished manuscript on file with the Pace Environmental Law Review). 41. B. Stein, T. Braden & R. Warner, The Significance of Federal Lands for Endangered Species, Our Living Resources—Human Influences 4, 401, http://biology.usgs.gov/s+t/noframe/ul54.html. 42. R.L. DeVelice & J.R. Martin, Assessing the Extent to which Roadless Areas Complement the Conservation of Biodiversity, 11 Ecological Applications 1008–1018 (2001); M. R. Crist, B. Wilmer and G.H. Aplet, Assessing the Value of Roadless Areas in a Conservation Reserve Strategy: Biodiversity and Landscape Connectivity in the Northern Rockies, 42 Journal of Applied Ecology 181–191 (2005). 43. D. Crumpacker, S. Hodge, D. Friedley & W. Gregg, Jr., A Preliminary Assessment of the Status of Major Terrestrial and Wetland Ecosystems on Federal and Indian Lands in the United States, 2 Cons ervation Biology 103, 113 (1988). 44. T.W. Clark & D. Zaunbrecher, The Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem: The Ecosystem Concept in Natural Resources Policy and Management, 5 Renewable Res ources Journal 8–16 (1987); Noss & Cooperrider, supra note 6, at 71–72.
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45. Noss, Some Principles of Conservation Biology, As They Apply to Environmental Law, supra note 8 at 905; A.P. Dobson, J.P. Rodriguez, W.M. Roberts & D.S. Wilcove, Geographic Distribution of Endangered Species in the United States, 275 Science 445, 551 (1997). 46. Jessica E. Jay, Third-Party Enforcement of Conservation Easements, 29 Vt. L. Rev. 757–58 (2005). 47. Environmental Law Inst., Defenders of Wildlife, Planning for Biodiversity Authorities in State Land Use Laws (2003). 48. 1991 Cal. Stat 765 (codified at Cal. Fish & Game Code §§2800–2840 1991). 49. Noss & Cooperrider, supra note 6, at 113–118. 50. For details about the State Wildlife Grant Program, see http://www.defenders.org/programs and policy/habitat conservation/state wildlife grants/index.php 51. Mark L. Shaffer, J. Michael Scott & Frank Casey, Noah’s Options: Initial Cost Estimates of a National System of Habitat Conservation Areas in the United States, 52 Bios cience 439 (2002). 52. Id. at 443.
Chapter 4
Economics of Protecting Endangered Species Gardner M. Brown
Abstract Endangered species have economic value even if there are no markets for these species. They have existence value and the value we place on future generations being able to enjoy them. Recognition of that choice involves forgoing other alternatives. In the real world budgets prevent saving all species. Even Noah would have had to make choices because his Ark was not large enough to accommodate all species. Preservation is only one of many societal values we must choose among. It is important to choose the alternative actions that provide the biggest physical bang for a buck even when the benefits of preservation options are difficult to monetize.
4.1 Economics is not Commerce “When conservation is based on economic motives, there is a basic weakness. Most members of the land community have no economic value. It is doubtful whether more than 5% of the higher plant animals native to Wisconsin can be sold, fed, eaten or otherwise put to economic use” (Leopold 1966: 246–249). I have chosen to begin this chapter with a quote from Aldo Leopold’s exceptional book, A Sand County Almanac, to make the following essential point: economics is not commerce, and much of the reason that conservationists think that economists do the devil’s work arises from confusion over what we do. Leopold goes on to say that some species of trees have been “read out of the party by economic foresters because they grow too slowly or have too low a sale value to pass as timber crops.” In this chapter, I hope to provide the reader with a compelling argument in support of my position that economists have a good deal that is useful to say about preserving endangered species. Economists have recognized that the non-commercial value of species, in some situations, may be very high and their preservation surely represents the best use of society’s resources. For approximately a half-century, environmental economists have dwelled on the importance of non-market values. Environmental economists recognize that people derive satisfaction from knowing that species exist— existence value—and they would be willing to make sacrifices in order to enhance species preservation. Environmental economists further recognize that people also are willing to contribute money, land, time and other scarce resources to make sure that their own kith and kin, indeed future generations, will get the opportunity to enjoy the species in existence today. This is called bequest value. In this regard, environmental economists have devoted a considerable amount of scholarly effort to developing R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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methods for estimating these values in money terms, contributing to several economic journals devoted to this work. An important reason that individuals should seek to measure non-market values in money terms is that they often do not get to choose the forum in which the decisions pertaining to species preservation are made. In many forums there are people with power who pray to the money metric. For example, if a person who thinks about habitat in terms of the dollar value of commercial animal-unit-months chairs a congressional committee that determines land use, then the only way to gain this person’s vote in favor of preservation of habitat for wildlife will be through his/her monetary frame of reference. In this context, it is important to acknowledge political realities: “is” is not “ought,” and economists have a comparative advantage in portraying “is” and must leave the “ought” to ethicists. A second example that I offer to illustrate the need for monetizing non-market resources involves large-scale coastal oil spills, such as the Exxon-Valdez spill that destroyed immense amounts of biota, including thousands of waterfowl and eagles, which are not traded and hence do not have a direct commercial monetary value. It is my position that most people would not vote for Exxon to pay nothing for these losses to natural resources. If individuals believe Exxon should pay something for these losses, how would society determine the amount, given that we (society) will have to tell a story compelling enough to ward off Exxon’s well-funded defense attorneys? Both Alaska and the federal government, the trustees for the lost resources, called on economists for help. Jason Shogren and a number of economists wrote a paper (Shogren and Tschirhart 2001) in which they gave ten reasons why economics is important for protecting endangered species. In this chapter, I will be selective and discuss what I perceive to be the most important economic reasons for species protection.
4.2 The Importance of Opportunity Cost The concept of opportunity cost tells us that you rarely get something for nothing, or to get something you will probably have to give up something else. In more formal economic language, an opportunity cost expresses the value of a resource in its most highly valued alternative use. I argue that it is important for society to acknowledge the existence of opportunity costs and to be concerned with what is being sacrificed. To illustrate my position, I use the following examples. The first example involves a well-intentioned paper by a number of biologists that was published in Science (Dobson et al. 1997). In their paper, Dobson and his colleagues ask what is the minimum number of counties necessary to save a given number of species. In this view species are cast as the good thing and counties as the cost – a view that I perceive to be a na¨ıve formulation of the issue. Since it is the funds for saving species that are scarce, the economic approach to the issue of species preservation involves addressing either of the following questions: What is the least expensive way of saving a given number of species? Or, what is the largest number of species that can be preserved for a given budget? I want to pause here and recognize a hidden assumption that virtually all biologists and ecologists make in public, but not private, and that no economists ever makes. It is that all species—from the black rhino to smallpox virus— have the same value. In the Dobson paper no distinction is made between the values
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Table 4.1 Different cost estimates for saving a given number of species (Ando et al. 1998) Save 453 species Min. counties Min. cost Spend $1 million on counties with greatest endemism Max. endemism for $1 million The benefit of adding economics
$76,000 $23,000 # of species saved 591 750 159
of one species and another, which from my perspective greatly simplifies the comparative story. Shortly following the publication of Dobson et al. (1997), a group of economists (Ando et al. 1998) published a reply in which they analyzed costs associated with species preservation. Table 4.1 provides the cost data associated with saving 453 species by either minimizing the number of counties or by minimizing the cost itself. Table 4.1 shows that minimizing the number of counties to save 453 species would cost $76,000, where the cost is for habitat of the endemic species in these counties. The table also shows that pursuing a minimizing cost approach saves the same number species for only $23,000. Why the difference? Although biologists implicitly assume that an acre is an acre (i.e., each acre costs the same amount), the cost of saving an acre of habitat in some counties is much more expensive than saving an acre of habitat in other counties. To illustrate this distinction in another way, suppose that you had one million dollars to preserve species, where would you spend it? Remember, we are assuming here that all species have the same value. If society spent the money on land in counties with the most unique species per county, it would save 591 species. Alternatively, if society maximized the number of species saved for one million dollars, it would save 750 species. By disregarding the economic way of thinking about species preservation society would have caused the extinction of 159 species. It is important to note that, in this example, economists did nothing more than to observe that land in different counties has a different value and that the cost of saving species is the value of land for other uses: its opportunity cost. A second example pertaining to the concept of opportunity cost is what I refer to as Better Bang for a Buck (BBB), which is presented in Tables 4.2 to 4.5. To begin the story, imagine that society wants to improve the survival chance of Chinook salmon and it has a variety of ways to accomplish this task, but is constrained by limited funds. Biologists attack the problem by estimating the improved growth rate made possible by each intervention. They call the growth rate lambda, and the improvement in growth rate is delta lambda. The options that were evaluated in this study included the following: 100% harvest reduction, 50% reduction in the Snake River steelhead hatchery releases (and subsequent reduction in steelhead harvest), 75% reduction in tern predation, and breach Snake River dams (Table 4.2). The biologists rank the alternatives from highest change to lowest change in population growth rate and recommend action in that order (Table 4.3). Unfortunately, this solution suffers from the same shortcoming as does the previous example. It omits consideration of the cost of each alternative (Table 4.4). By computing the change in
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Table 4.2 Bang for the Buck Analysis: biological and economic metrics • Biological Metric – Population growth rate (lambda, λ) • λ = 1.0 => Population is constant • λ = 1.1 => Population is growing ∼ 10% per year • λ = 0.95 => Population is decreasing ∼ 5% per year • Interventions that will increase λ for Snake River Chinook salmon: − 100% harvest reduction − 50% reduction in Snake River steelhead hatchery releases (and subsequent reduction in steelhead harvest) − 75% reduction in tern predation − Breach Snake River dams • Biological Effect: ⌬λ = λ After −λ Before • Economic Cost: $ • Bang for the Buck – ⌬λ/$millions Source: Personal Communication from Mark Plummer, NOAA, Northwest Fisheries Center, Seattle, WA 98112, 2007.
Table 4.3 Bang for the Buck Analysis: biological effects of different interventions
Action
⌬(%)
Breach Snake River dams 50% reduction in steelhead releases 75% reduction in tern predation 100% harvest reduction
7–45% 2.8% 2.3% 0.7%
Source: Personal Communication from Mark Plummer, NOAA, Northwest Fisheries Center, Seattle, WA 98112, 2007.
Table 4.4 Bang for the Buck Analysis: economic costs of different interventions
Action
Annual Cost ($ millions)
100% harvest reduction 50% reduction in steelhead releases 75% reduction in tern predation Breach Snake River dams
$ 0.2–2.8 $ 3.9 $ 0.4 ∼$ 300 million
Source: Personal Communication from Mark Plummer, NOAA, Northwest Fisheries Center, Seattle, WA 98112, 2007.
Table 4.5 Bang for the Buck Analysis: added salmon population growth rate per dollar of cost
Action
BB
75% reduction in tern predation 50% reduction in steelhead releases 100% harvest reduction Breach Snake River dams
5.75 0.72 0.25–3.82 0.023–0.150
Source: Personal Communication from Mark Plummer, NOAA, Northwest Fisheries Center, Seattle, WA 98112, 2007.
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population growth rate per dollar one is able to rank projects in terms of those that provide the biggest bang for a buck. This makes it a cost effectiveness study, in formal terms. (See Table 4.5). When cost is introduced, the best biological outcome, breaching the Snake River Dams, gives the worst bang for a buck. The best option in terms of BBB is reducing tern predation, which is ranked third out of four by the biological criterion. My final case illustrating the idea of opportunity cost involves the concern that the U.S. public had about harvesting tuna and the loss of dolphins. Since dolphins feed on tuna, tuna fishermen often use dolphins to locate the tuna, resulting in dolphins becoming a by-catch in tuna nets. The short version of this story is that as a result of consumer pressure, tuna fishermen changed their fishing strategy from following the dolphins to what is called “fishing off the logs.” What that means is that when currents come together, they produce a confluence of nutrients that support the organisms that tuna eat. Flotsam, called “logs,” also accumulates in these areas, hence “fishing off the logs.” As you can see by Table 4.6, fishing off the logs reduced the dolphin by-catch virtually completely, but look at the opportunity cost of doing this! The opportunity cost of saving the dolphins, not an endangered species, CAUSED the loss of 170 tons more of juvenile tuna, thousands more of mahi mahi and sharks, and four more sea turtles than when fishing off the dolphin. In other words, there is a very real opportunity cost associated with saving 27 non-endangered dolphins. I conclude this discussion of tuna fishing and the idea of opportunity cost by calling readers attention to two things. First, for those of you who have qualms about putting different values on species, it appears that not fishing on the dolphins is a terrible mistake. Second, I have not introduced money in this opportunity cost at all. I am simply comparing one preferred behavior to another in terms of biomass, which I take to be the ecologist’s standard. Remember, biologists maintain that it is not right to put one species above another unless one is endangered, and the dolphin isn’t—nor are any of the other species on the above list.
Table 4.6 By catch in tons per 1,000 tons of Yellowfin tuna loaded when fishing at current convergences (logs) and at schools of dolphins (Hall 1998) Dolphins Billfish Mahi mahi Sharks Sea Turtles Other small fish Rainbow Runners Other large fist Wahoo Yellowtail Trigger fish Discards of Yellowfin
Log Sets (n = 324)
Dolphins Sets (n = 764)
0.3 80.5 3,562.7 1,185.2 5.5 89.6 372.3 76.2 464.3 52.2 309.2 175.6
27.4 4.4 3.7 29.8 0.8 3.1 – – < 0.1 < 0.1 – 4.8
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4.3 Recognize Diminishing Returns A given species cannot be preserved with certainty. The most sobering reason is natural environmental shocks may wipe out one or more species. Another reason is that as society attempts to remove its human footprint on the habitat of the endangered species, it encroaches on ever more important human activities to preserve ever less productive habitat for that species. The following example, from Brown and Shogren (1998), illustrates what economists refer to as diminishing returns. One of the best endangered species recovery plans involved the northern spotted owl. Estimates by academic biologists and economists show that increasing the survival odds of recovery from the status quo to 91% would cost $33 billion (in 1990 dollars). However, if the recovery plan attempts to improve the owl’s odds of survival by an extra 4 %, the estimated cost increases by $13 billion to a total of $46 billion. The representative habitat necessary to support one owl pair is about the size of a football field of Douglas fir trees, which has a very high timber value. The important point is that, as society attempts to save more spotted owls, it is forced to preserve increasingly less productive forests for the spotted owl and increasingly more harvestable timberland. The cost of preserving to the 95% level could have been reduced by one half if some of the owl’s range were reduced (Montgomery 1995), but the Endangered Species Act (ESA) requires that endangered species be preserved throughout their spatial range.
4.4 Not All Species Can be Saved In the real world there is scarcity and we as a society have to make reasoned choices because we face budget constraints. Even Noah had to make a choice of what species to save since his Ark was not large enough to accommodate all species. (See Noah’s Choice by Mann and Plummer (1995) for an entertaining description of attempts to fit all the species into the Bible’s specified dimensions of the Ark). The unpleasant problem is that one’s ethical system is not one dimensional, so inevitably there must be trade-offs. The more society presses on with preservation, the fewer resources it has for other goods and services such as healthcare, childcare, education, defense, justice, and equity. The ESA calls for saving all species with no explicit recognition of the possibility that the benefits or costs of saving each species might diverge. Although it may appear to be a noble goal to save all species, Congress annually fails to provide sufficient funds for species protection. In fact, the funds allocated by Congress for mitigating endangered species on a per species basis are at 60% of their 1976 level. There is a mix of idealism and tragedy in the Save All goal and the current budget reality, which is rooted in the fact that people often act in their own interest. Before species are designated endangered, they must first be listed as such. Over the years thousands of species may have qualified as candidates for listing as either threatened or endangered, but current budgetary constraints allow the listing of species at a rate of only 100 per year. Not very long ago, 3600 species were expunged from the potential list because the list of potentials caused “confusion about the conservation status of these taxa [species]” (Federal Register 1996). Those who owned land that contained habitat for
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these species pushed for the excision by complaining to their congressional representatives about the economic costs of this uncertainty. In a recent year, one-third of the species actually listed had no budget to address the threat of extinction and no recovery plans. In addition, many of the existing recovery plans are irresponsible. Fifty percent of the species with recovery plans are at serious risk of extinction even if the target populations in the recovery plans are achieved. Metrick and Weitzman (1996, 1998) have analyzed what has determined public expenditures for endangered species for certain selected periods. They found the biggest explanatory factor to be the amount of conflict between preservation and development plans. How endangered a species is also matters, as does size, which Metrick and Weitzman interpret as an index of charisma. Very little money is spent on endangered species of reptiles despite the claim in the Act that there should be no favorites (Metrick and Weitzman 1998).
4.5 People Act in Their Own Interest What do you think a landowner would do if his/her land contained the habitat of a prospective candidate for endangered status? If the listing of the species as endangered prevents the landowner from gainfully using the land, he/she would have an incentive to use a “shoot, shovel and shut-up” strategy to destroy the habitat before the listing occurs. The print media routinely reports cases of habitat destruction that are triggered by the anticipation of a listing. For example, ten days before the golden-cheeked warbler was listed by the Fish and Wildlife Service, a firm owned by Ross Perot—a former presidential candidate—hired migrant workers to destroy hundreds of acres of oak and juniper warbler habitat (Mann and Plummer 1995). Wilcove et al. (1996), who are biologists, see this as a reason why “so many species are teetering on the very brink of extinction by the time they receive protection.”1 Economists would never approve of the ESA as written because they, as a profession, give a considerable amount of weight to the assumption that people act in their own interest. If society does not like the behavior that results from individuals pursuing their self-interest, then society may attempt to ward off such behavior by legislating defensive incentives in terms of penalties and prohibitions.
4.6 A Controversial Policy with Serious Conservation Implications Many years ago I was involved in an international effort to prohibit the sale of ivory, skin and other pieces of elephant. During my research I came across a stunning bit of information, which is presented in Table 4.7. The table shows the estimated elephant populations in seven different countries, which are partitioned into those countries that show dramatic declines in population over a past decade and those where populations remained constant or increased. The countries in the top category where the elephant populations are doing well are those countries such as South Africa and Zimbabwe that allow hunting and charge for hunting privileges. The funds are used for monitoring and enforcement, which are designed to reduce poaching. Moreover, poachers are competitive with hunters and as
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G.M. Brown Table 4.7 Estimated changes in African elephant populations in different countries Country
1979
1989
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Total
30, 000 2, 700 7, 800 20, 000 65, 000 4, 500 316, 300 1, 343, 000
52, 000 5, 700 7, 800 68, 000 16, 000 2, 800 61, 000 609, 000
a consequence hunters have an interest in removing poachers. For those who value the existence of elephants, it seems pretty clear that the policies of these countries, which preserve or enhance elephant populations, have much to recommend them. In contrast, countries like Kenya in the bottom category have high rates of population decline for elephants. The World Wildlife Fund contributes to Kenya wildlife management on the condition that all hunting is prohibited. If you think hunting is bad, even hunting for culling purposes to insure that the habitat is not overgrazed, then I recommend rethinking that position. These are wretchedly poor countries where the parks mainly benefit rich tourists from outside Africa. Taxing the citizens even more to provide anti-poaching enforcement has some worrisome equity implications.
4.7 Valuing Non-Market Goods Earlier in this chapter, I alluded to all the intellectual effort that economists spend valuing non-market goods. Now is an appropriate time to provide an illustration. It has to do with global warming or global climate change. Here is the background. The research arm of the electric utility industry in the United States, the Electric Policy Research Institute, naturally is concerned about global climate change (GCC). Economists have looked at the future costs of climate change in the United States and there does not appear to be lots of expected overall damage in the agricultural or industrial or municipal sectors. Some regions will experience a loss of agricultural production but these losses will be partially offset by gains elsewhere. Similarly this is expected to hold true for the forestry sector. It is hard to envision lots of loss to the information technology industry or Boeing because of global warming. You may think these views are flawed, but the point is that key people in the utility industry think that they are true. So, “Where’s the beef?” as some say. Well, maybe there will be a significant loss in ecosystems. To answer this question, my colleague, David Layton, and I designed a case study to estimate the value of ecosystem loss. GCC is expected to move the margin of forestland up to higher elevations, resulting in the replacement of lower-elevation forest by grass on the Front Range in Colorado, including the land area in the higher elevations west of Boulder. What would people be willing to pay not to experience this change in their ecosystem? The following is a simplified example of how we attempted to determine what people would be willing to pay. Imagine that the last time you went to a restaurant, you thought about purchasing scallops but they were too expensive at $14. Now suppose the waiter says that you got the wrong menu
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and gives you a new one with all prices just the same except for the price of scallops, which now are priced lower, say at $12. By now choosing the scallops, you reveal that they are worth at least $12 but not more than the $14 earlier price. After many focus groups, Layton and I paid hundreds of people around the Denver area to make choices when presented with different menus (Layton and Brown 2000). Table 4.8 illustrates one menu. The respondent can choose to do nothing and bear no money cost or he/she can opt for a program that reduces the hit of GCC but at an increasing monthly cost. The estimation technique shows that people are willing to pay increased amounts of money to avoid increasing loss of forest in terms of how far the creep up the mountain goes. Moreover, early losses hurt more than subsequent losses—the diminishing returns phenomenon, discussed earlier. These data are summarized in Table 4.9. An average person would be willing to pay about $60 per month to prevent the forest margin from creeping up the mountains 1200 feet within 60 years. Two features of this study are notable. First, this was an extremely expensive study to do because the stakes were big and enormous care went into its design. Second, there is a lot of suspicion within the economics profession about these studies. Our study was one of the very rare ones to be published in a top ten general-interest economics journal (Layton and Brown 2000).
4.8 Conclusion For close to one-half a century natural resource and environmental economists typically have argued that not enough species are being preserved because of anatomical failures in the market that result in an undervaluation of the desire to save species that, in turn, leads to excess habitat destruction. For a number of reasons, conservationists have missed our story, often because we write in obscurantist language and talk too much to ourselves. In this chapter I lay out some fundamental concepts economists use that come in handy in arguing for more and better species protection. Examples have been used to provide a bit of concreteness. First, think about what is being given up, opportunity cost, alternative options, when one advocates a particular policy, program or project. Identifying the smallest number of counties necessary to save a given number of species (Dobson et al. 1997), is not as helpful for saving species as identifying the lowest cost counties for saving the same number of species, which will leave money to save even more species as long as land values differ across counties. Similarly, of the many biological interventions to improve the growth rate of a biological population, one wants to choose the ones that provide the most bang (growth rate) for a buck, assuming one does not have an infinite budget. A very painful example of opportunity cost is the hundreds of thousands of added tons of by-catch of fish and sea turtles that occurs because yellowfin tuna fishermen shifted the way they fished in order to save relatively few dolphins that are not endangered because of our imprecise desire to save dolphins. Second, diminishing returns is another useful concept that reminds us that it can get very expensive to save all species with 100% probability. Ultimately we have to make hard choices among species and between saving species and spending money on other good things. In short, Noah’s ark had limited capacity. Third and a slightly different way to put it is that there are budget limitations. Fourth,
No reduction in greenhouse gas emissions. Forestry is used to slow the retreat of forests. Front Range forests would retreat from 5400 feet to 6600 feet in elevation over the next 150 years. Picture 3 shows what the forests would look like after 150 years Cost to your household is $10 PER MONTH in higher taxes.
No reduction in greenhouse gas emissions. Forestry is not used to slow the retreat of forests. Front Range forests would retreat from 5400 feet to 7900 feet in elevation over the next 150 years. Picture 4 shows what the forests would look like after 150 years Cost to your household is $0 PER MONTH.
Q10
Your most preferred program is (Circle one) A B C D E Your least preferred program is (Circle one) A B C D E
FORESTRY:
NO ACTION:
Q9
Program (B)
Program (A)
Reduces greenhouse gas emissions. Forestry is not used to slow the retreat of forests. Front Range forests would retreat from 5400 feet to 6000 feet in elevation over the next 150 years. Picture 2 shows what the forests would look like after 150 years Cost to your household is $30 PER MONTH in higher fuel bills, utility bills, and product prices.
LIMITED EMISSIONS REDUCTION AGREEMENT:
Program (C)
Reduces greenhouse gas emissions more. Forestry is not used to slow the retreat of forests. Front Range forests would not retreat from 5400 feet in elevation. The forests would still look like picture 1 after 150 years. Cost to your household is $60 PER MONTH in higher fuel bills, utility bills, and product prices.
The forests would still look like picture 1 after 150 years. Cost to your household is $40 PER MONTH in higher taxes, higher fuel bills, utility bills, and product prices.
VIGOROUS EMISSIONS REDUCTION AGREEMENT:
Program (E)
Reduces greenhouse gas emissions. Forestry is used to slow the retreat of forests. Front Range forests would not retreat from 5400 feet in elevation.
FORESTRY & LIMITED EMISSIONS REDUCTION AGREEMENT:
Program (D)
Table 4.8 Information provided to respondents on survey of alternative possible future outcomes at different costs for reducing forest loss due to climate change (Layton and Brown 2000). Pictures illustrating the projected landscapes produced by different choices accompanied this menu of choices
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Table 4.9 Estimated willingness to pay for alternative amounts of ecosystem change (Layton and Brown 2000) Amount of Forest Loss
60 Year Horizon Estimated Mean (95% Confidence Interval)
150 Year Horizon Estimated Mean (95% Confidence Interval)
600 Ft. Loss 1200 Ft. Loss 2500 Ft. Loss
$23.81 (13.29–42.11) $58.54 (37.12–98.68) $79.31 (47.90–135.55)
$17.90 (8.66–31.82) $40.44 (23.11–68.51) $38.44 (14.44–72.26)
Notes: The confidence intervals are based on 100,000 replications of the Krinsky-Robb (1986) method.
a further real life fact is that often people act in their own interest. So, for example, if shortfalls in the budget cause a queue in the listing of endangered species, after which they will be protected, one knows for certain and the subsequent supporting empirical evidence is overwhelming, that some people will destroy the habitat of these species to avoid use strictures on their land accompanying the expected listing. The Endangered Species Act should have defended itself against species destruction due to transparent self interest.
Notes 1. Using data from 1000 forest plots, Lueck and Michael (2003) show that the closer a timber lot was to known Red-cockaded Woodpecker habitat, the more likely that southern pine timber was harvested and at a lower age than timber harvested further away. Lueck and Michael cite many studies documenting preemptive habitat destruction. They have a choice quote from the National Homebuilders Association stating that managing property so that the Endangered Species Act won’t be put into effect is called the “scorched earth” technique.
References Ando, A., Camm, J., Polasky, S., Solow, A. (1998). Species distributions, land values, and efficient conservation. Science, 279(5359), 2126–2128. Brown, G.M., & J. F. Shogren, J. F. (1998). Economics of the Endangered Species Act. Journal of Economic Perspectives, 12(3), 3–20. Dobson, A.P., Rodriguez, J.P., Roberts, W.M., Wilcove, D.S. (1997). Geographic distribution of endangered species in the United States. Science, 275(5299), 550–553. Hall, M. A. 1998. An ecological view of the tuna-dolphin problem: impacts and trade-offs. Review of Fish Biology and Fisheries, 8(1), 1–34. Layton, D. F., & Brown, G. M. (2000). Heterogeneous preferences regarding global climate change. Review of Economics and Statistics, 82(4), 616–624. Leopold, A. (1966). Sand County almanac. With other essays on conservation from Round River. New York: Oxford University Press. Lueck, D., & Michael, J. (2003). Preemptive habitat destruction under the ESA. Journal of Law and Economics, 46(1), 27–60. Mann, C., & Plummer, M. (1995). Noah’s choice: the future of endangered species. New York: Knopf. Metrick, A., & Weitzman, M. L. (1996). Patterns of behavior in endangered species preservation. Land Economics, 72(1), 1–16. Metrick, A., & Weitzman, M. L. (1998). Conflicts and choices in biodiversity preservation. Journal of Economic Perspectives, 12(3), 21–32.
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Montgomery, C. (1995). Economic analysis of the spatial dimensions of species preservation: the distribution of northern spotted owl habitat. Forest Science, 41(1), 67–83. Shogren, J. F., & Tschirhart, J. (Eds.). (2001). Protecting endangered species in the United States: biological needs, political realities, economic choices. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Wilcove, D., Bean, M., Binnie, R., McMillan, M. (1996). Rebuilding the ark. New York: Environmental Defense Fund.
Chapter 5
The Center for Plant Conservation: Twenty Years of Recovering America’s Vanishing Flora Kathryn L. Kennedy
Abstract Nearly 25% of the United States’ 20,000 native plants are species of conservation concern, and 5% are listed or have been qualified for listing under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). U.S. plants are seriously underserved in biological diversity conservation efforts, in spite of their fundamental ecological role and significant economic value. Plants comprise about half of the species listed under the ESA, but receive only about 5% of all federal funding for recovery and restoration. Current habitat-based preserve planning approaches may also fail to capture important plant biodiversity. A review of current approaches and potential modification to incorporate both fine scale and coarse scale species may be needed to protect national plant biodiversity resources. The Center for Plant Conservation coordinates a network of botanical institutions across the United States providing local, community-based recovery and stewardship of imperiled plant populations. These approaches are effective and efficient in providing the sort of small-scale efforts often needed to restore and maintain this biodiversity, and do so cost-effectively.
5.1 Introduction Examining the benefits, services, and value native plants provide clearly demonstrates that the native flora of the United States (U.S.) is an invaluable national resource for economic, environmental and scientific enterprise. We cannot afford to lose these assets, yet an evaluation of the numbers and distribution of plant taxa at risk, the current status of our imperiled plant species, and current public policy support for protection and recovery of plants demonstrate a scenario of great urgency. Further, there is an imbalance in attention to imperiled plants within general conservation efforts that only heightens the need for more conservation and restoration attention for rare and endangered species. Reviewing the effectiveness of current approaches for protection and restoration of plant diversity, the research and applied work underway, and our areas of uncertainty can inform conservationists. Botanists must work to define national interests and needs, set conservation objectives, and develop improved planning approaches and management techniques. The mission of the non-profit Center for Plant Conservation (CPC) is to conserve and restore the rare native plants of the United States. Since 1984 we have worked to build a strong national network of community-based Participating R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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Institutions – primarily public botanical gardens and arboreta – working hands-on for recovery and stewardship of our vulnerable plants. We now have 36 institutions working collaboratively. Each dedicates expert staff time and facilities, and follows CPC’s scientific standards and protocols to ensure best conservation practices. They work in partnerships, closely coordinating with state and federal agencies. Our model uses an integrated approach to plant conservation, with a focus on vulnerable species in impaired plant communities. Over the last twenty years of effort we have learned that species-focused work directed at monitoring, increasing, and managing small populations is needed as well as habitat level work for protection, threat reduction, restoration and plant community management. Beyond research and field work, stable funding is important to sustaining partnerships and consistent progress. Fostering public understanding and engagement in conservation efforts and forging partnerships and community connections is critical to long-term success. Informed scientists must serve as trustworthy resources and ambassadors to initiate this work as well.
5.2 The Value of U.S. Native Plant Species The Endangered Species Act of 1973 (ESA) is recognized globally as an innovative and effective public policy effort to conserve and restore biodiversity. The ESA articulated that saving individual species is important. In the findings of the legislation, Congress noted very broad-based direct and indirect values of species conservation where the nation has a significant interest, including esthetic, ecological, educational, historical, recreational and scientific value (U.S. Code 2004). The declaration of purposes and policy in the act also linked species conservation to ecosystem function, noting that in part the purposes of the ESA are to provide a means to conserve the ecosystems upon which our federally endangered and threatened species depend (U.S. Code 2004). The scientific and environmental community understandably focuses on ecological and scientific value. In the conservation community there is good agreement that maintaining species in the wild as part of functional communities helps maintain clean water, clean air and other ecological services, and plants clearly have a critical role in these processes. The other values articulated in the ESA are also important to sustain in objectives for conserving biodiversity. Scientists must examine our potential role in support, documentation, and sensitivity to these species values as well. There is a strong connection between native plants and all of these values. Ethnobotanists and anthropologists have documented the uses of plants and their historical role in shaping and supporting our diverse cultures and civilization. Botanical research has shown the scientific value of unique species, restricted endemics, and vulnerable populations in understanding evolutionary adaptation, genetics, biochemistry and community ecology. Our imperiled plants provide a treasure trove of models and stories for educators to engage and inform about science, biodiversity, and resource management, and to apply general curriculum elements to real world situations for their students.
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The esthetic appeal of flowers is well established and is a powerful ambassador fostering appreciation of wild biodiversity in the general public. Forty five percent of Americans report outdoor recreational activities to view wildflowers and native vegetation (U. S. Forest Service 2001). Gardening is the number one leisure-time activity for U.S. adults, with 81% of households reporting that they have a flower garden and about 40% reporting they are vegetable gardeners (Crespo et al. 1996, Market Wire 2002, Butterfield 2006). Even a cursory review of our most highly imperiled native species reveals nearly 30 genera readily recognizable by the public as relatives of our most beloved wildflowers and horticultural plants (Table 5.1). Many less well known imperiled plants are breathtakingly beautiful as well. The ESA appropriately emphasized the value of species conservation without regard to perceived economic values. Nevertheless plants as a group have tremendous additional value. Through thousands of years of evolution they have evolved adaptations, structures, biochemical processes, and metabolic products with complex molecules that have yet to be duplicated. Considering the degree that the quality of our lives is enriched by plants and plant products for food, fiber, building materials,
Table 5.1 Genera readily recognizable to gardeners and wildflower enthusiasts that include critically imperiled native plant species Family
Genus
Common Name
Asteraceae – – – – – Ericaceae Fabaceae Iridaceae Liliaceae – Magnoliaceae Malvaceae – Melanthiaceae Myrsinaceae Onograceae Orchidaceae – – Orobanchaceae Plantaginaceae Polemoniaceae Primulaceae – Ranunculaceae – Rubiaceae
Symphyotrichum Echinacea Gaillardia Helianthus Liatris Solidago Rhododendron Lupinus Iris Allium Lilium Magnolia Callirhoe Hibiscus Trillium Cyclamen Oenothera Cypripedium Platanthera Spiranthes Castilleja Penstemon Phlox Dodecatheon Primula Clematis Delphinium Gardenia
Aster Coneflower Firewheel Sunflower Gayfeather Goldenrod Rhododendron Lupines Iris Onion True lily Magnolia Winecup Rosemallow Wakerobin Cyclamen Primrose Ladyslipper Fringed orchid Ladies’ tresses Paintbrush Beardtongue Phlox Shooting star True primrose Leather flower Larkspur Gardenia
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flowers, fragrance, fuels, oils and waxes, pharmaceuticals and other products, it is foolhardy to discount the potential usefulness of any plant species. Temperate plants, with their adaptations to seasonal and often extreme environments, have many unique properties. Wild relatives of agricultural species provide the genetic traits plant breeders use to develop disease resistance and improved agricultural varieties. Periodic infusions of wild material are considered important to maintaining the vigor of many commercial crop plants. Eighty percent of U.S. imperiled species are congeners with at least one economically important species, and two thirds are congeners of currently cultivated species (Phillips and Meilleur 1998), so they represent priceless agricultural assets. Imperiled plants that have been recognized as having great significance are often very narrowly restricted and have declined to very small populations that will require special restoration attention. One example of an endangered species that has potentially significant agricultural importance is the Okeechobee gourd (Cucurbita okeechobeensis), which has unusual resistance to many diseases of garden squashes and cucumbers, but is now known from only nine small, threatened sites in the St. John’s River Basin and along Lake Okeechobee in Florida (Maddox and Race 2001). Another example is the federally listed Pecos sunflower (Helianthus paradoxus). It remains in only a few small sites in the Pecos River Basin of New Mexico and Texas, where it is native to desert ci´enegas and ephemeral wetlands (Barrett 2001). Pecos sunflower has already been used by U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) breeders to improve irrigated sunflower crops because it has desirable disease and pest resistance and is tolerant of the higher salinities that often occur in soils under irrigation. The USDA’s Agricultural Research Service (ARS) has estimated the economic value of our wild native sunflowers’ genetic contribution to cultivated sunflowers at $384 million annually (Seiler and Gulya 2004). The pharmaceutical value of imperiled plant species must not be discounted. In the United States 25% of prescriptions are filled with plant-based drugs with a market value exceeding $8 billion, and each new plant-based drug coming to market reflects an average species value of approximately $203 million annually (Farnsworth and Soejarto 1985). Further, about 30% of plant-based drugs available today are from temperate regions, and while the U.S. flora has been relatively well evaluated, new drugs are still emerging that are developed from temperate plants (Balick et al. 1996). The esthetic values of plants also generate economic value. Flower gardening, vegetable gardening and container gardening combined accounted for $5.3 billion in retail sales in the United States (Butterfield 2006).
5.3 The Distribution and Status of U.S. Imperiled Plants A significant percentage of the flora of the United States is at risk. The flora of North America north of Mexico is estimated to contain approximately 20,000 species (Flora of North America 2008). Currently there are 883 plant species, nearly 5% of the native flora, that are either federally listed, proposed or candidates for listing (U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) 2008). Over 100 species are likely already extinct, the majority of them in Hawaii, although this figure cannot be known precisely given
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our history of early disturbance of the landscape, and the difficulty of certainty in surveying our vast land areas. Further, NatureServe conservation rankings demonstrate that 10% of our flora is imperiled or critically imperiled, and an additional 14% of species are considered vulnerable (Master et al. 2000). Thus a total of nearly 25% of the flora of the United States is considered vulnerable or imperiled, which clearly indicates an urgent need for conservation intervention. The best place to effectively conserve plant biodiversity is in the wild, through establishing and maintaining multiple robust populations. Self sustaining populations are definitely more cost effective and require lower maintenance than any ex-situ seed bank or cultivated collection. If multiple robust populations can be restored or maintained, it is possible to retain more genetic traits than in a sample in a static seed bank. If there is a reasonable distance between sites, they will be safer from chance catastrophe than in any building or man-made facility. Species will have a higher likelihood of maintaining enough genetic variation to retain the potential to adapt to changing conditions. Finally, because the species is still functioning as a part of a dynamic plant community, the biotic and abiotic processes of the habitat are maintained providing continued ecological services to other living things. Clearly the preferred alternative for sustaining biodiversity is in the context of wild populations (Balick et al. 1996). Examining what we know about the current condition of wild populations of our listed plants is sobering. In 2000, I updated and reanalyzed data from a prior study (Kennedy 1997) including federal plant recovery plans completed by the USFWS through 1998. Based on the species information given for our listed plants, 65% had fewer than ten sites remaining in the wild, and 49% had fewer than five sites remaining. Many species, like Stern’s medlar (Mespilus canescens) for example, have only a single known site remaining in the wild (Figure 5.1). Of even greater concern was the finding that 74% of the listed species with plans had fewer than 100 individuals remaining in the majority of known sites. Populations numbering 100 individuals or less are very vulnerable to decline from stochastic events and genetic erosion. They may now occur in very limited geographic areas and have disrupted co-adapted biotic
Fig. 5.1 Mespilus canescens (Stern’s medlar) is the only North American species in the genus and is known from a single site in Arkansas with only about 25 individuals. Photo by Casey Calvin. Printed with permission
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processes like pollination. While demographically stable population sizes vary with age classes and life history strategy, most population models would predict that the majority of these sites have a low probability of persistence for 100 years and may well disappear within 25 years or so (Tiffany Knight, pers. comm.). Populations in this condition are unlikely to be successfully recovered through an approach limited to conserving remaining sites in good condition with community level restoration and management. It is not surprising that 87% of recovery plans examined for listed plant species recommended that reintroduction or augmentation of populations is needed for recovery in the wild. Conservation work is needed at several different scales: intrapopulation, interpopulation, and community level restoration may all be required. In these situations a blended program using both ecosystem and species focused approaches is appropriate (Ganeshaiah et al. 2002). Both ex-situ and in-situ tools may be helpful, and the ability to produce genetically appropriate plant material can be critical to implementation of population level restoration.
5.4 A Cautionary Note About the Ability to Capture Plant Biodiversity in Broad-based Approaches to Conservation Reserves The late 1980s and early 1990s were a period of active discussion of the theory of conservation design, and the single large or several small reserves debate (SLOSS) for the most effective approach for conservation areas was memorable (Mann and Plummer 1995). In the intervening years analyses and approaches to maximize conservation effectiveness have varied from emphasis on species richness, to endemic species, to habitats of wider ranging umbrella species (under the assumption that conservation areas adequate for these taxonomic groups would adequately address the biodiversity of other taxa as well). There are not many published studies that examine the efficacy of different approaches for the conservation of plant biodiversity. The sedentary nature of plants increases the numbers of species with restricted distributions, and declining species may have lost significant populations across the landscape. There is concern that current approaches to conservation reserve design emphasizing conservation of areas where multiple species cluster, or large areas of general habitat types, may not adequately address plant diversity. Conservation designs that successfully include plant biodiversity will need to examine both coarse scale and fine scale patterns for species richness, endemism, rarity, and threats. Kerr (1997) tested the relative importance of species richness and endemism across a variety of different taxonomic groups. He found that patterns of distribution of diversity were not similar across taxa, although endemism and richness patterns tended to be similar within taxonomic groups. In particular he found that centering nature reserves around areas important for mammalian diversity as an umbrella taxonomic group led to gaps in overall biodiversity protection. In evaluating the effectiveness of using mammalian diversity to define reserve areas, he examined the extent of invertebrate diversity and found the reserves would perform no better than random plots.
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While Kerr did not examine plant groups, others have postulated that distribution patterns for invertebrates and plants may have similar underlying determinate factors. Virolainen et al. (1998) examined boreal spruce and pine mires to compare single, large reserves against several smaller ones and found several small reserves contained more species, and more vascular plant species, as well as higher diversity and more rare species. Peter White (pers. comm.), evaluating the plant biodiversity contained in the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, found the majority of the region’s rare and imperiled species are not included, and it appears that the area’s endemic plant species do not cluster with other species on spatial scales. In previous work, White (1996), has stressed that in conservation design and restoration decisions, consideration of biology and spatial patterns on a variety of scales is needed, as well as consideration of future change. Dobson et al. (1997) noted that hot spots for different species groups rarely overlap, though strategies with an emphasis on conserving endangered plant species best maximized the incidental protection for the other species groups examined. More recently, Stohlgren et al. (2005) examined patterns of plant species richness, endemism, rarity, and uniqueness to evaluate the widespread concept that hotspots of plant species diversity and endemism are likely synonymous. They found that primary areas of species richness, high endemism, and unique species assemblages for plants were not co-located on the landscape. They recommend that conservation strategies for plants may have to be modified to adequately capture native plant biodiversity. Similarly Sorrie and Weakley (2006) considered areas of high endemism in the coastal plain of North America and found many species had extremely narrow distributions. They concluded that a coastal plain reserve system focused on relatively few, large conservation areas, while providing efficiencies in long term management and sustainability of habitat, would likely fail to capture significant numbers of valuable endemics. They proposed instead a blended approach of establishing large core reserves supplemented by smaller satellite reserves to increase the coverage of endemic biodiversity.
5.5 An Imbalance in Attention, Resources, and Expertise for Imperiled Plants Most conservation biologists are aware that protection and prohibitions in the ESA are not as strong for plants as they are for animals. An imbalance exists in the regulatory, funding, planning, and staff support for plant conservation work in the United States. Imperiled plants are less than half as likely to be listed under the ESA than an animal with the same conservation rank (Roberson 2002). Consequently, plant species are in worse condition than animal species when they are federally listed, and listed plants have the smallest population sizes of any taxonomic group (Master et al. 2000). Recovery planning for plants has lagged behind that for animals (Schultz and Gerber 2002). While funding for endangered species recovery in general is inadequate to move forward consistently in recovery implementation, considering the funding that is available plants are underserved. Although more than half the species on the Endangered Species List are plants, they receive less than 5% of all federal funding spent for recovery (Roberson 2002).
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Another problem is that botanical expertise is spread too thin in federal land management agencies. The Bureau of Land Management has only 42 botanists for 262 million acres of managed lands. The National Park Service has 28 botanists for over 84 million acres. The U.S. Forest Service has 128 botanists for 191 million acres, and the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service has 26 botanists to serve 93 million acres of managed lands as well as to administer the regulatory aspects of the ESA (Peggy Olwell, Plant Conservation Alliance (PCA) Chair, pers.comm.). Public policy at the state level is in worse shape. Of the 45 states that have some form of legislation protecting endangered species, only 29 include any provisions for imperiled plants and the majority are much weaker than ESA provisions (George et al. 1998). Similar imbalances undoubtedly exist in the number of organizations and level of effort expended for plant conservation in private organizations and funding institutions. In addition botany faculty and whole departments and herbarium collections have been lost in the last 10–15 years (Sundberg 2000, Dalton 2003, Raven 2003). These disparities arise for a number of reasons. Jim Wandersee’s work group at Louisiana State University (Wandersee and Schussler 2001, Wandersee and Clary 2006) has identified physiological differences in human visual processing of plant and animal attributes. These tend to cause plants to be perceived as background material, except for important characteristics like flower and fruit. He postulates that observation skills that allow people to discriminate among and appreciate plants must be taught and this requires mentors. This indicates a need for improved biological science education. Biologists who are concerned about biodiversity are unlikely to be consciously ignoring plant diversity. Protection and management of plant biodiversity was not mandated by the ESA until 1978. Basic information about plant species biology and ecology was not well developed and accessible to managers. There has been a relatively short time for agencies and conservation organizations to address program responsibilities for plants that did not include significant funding to address inventory, monitoring, protection, and management needs. It is reasonable to expect that it would take time for agencies to retool their planning processes, staff responsibilities, and budget allocations. Botanists are recent additions to many agency staffs with heavy workloads and, due to their small numbers, may have limited professional networks. Nevertheless, we face the risk of losing an unacceptable number of valuable plant species in the next few decades, particularly with the new challenges of global climate change. Good support for conservation action for imperiled plants from private partners, interagency cooperation, and public-private partnerships, fostered by groups like the CPC and PCA, can help address these inequities.
5.6 The Center for Plant Conservation The CPC is a non-profit organization supported by donations and grants. Our approach is the development of a network of coordinated local institutions working collaboratively through partnerships to secure and restore our imperiled plant species. We
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use both ex-situ and in-situ conservation measures and strive for integrated recovery planning and implementation. Because imperiled plant populations are generally very small and vulnerable, we prioritize activities to safeguard genetically representative samples of wild populations in secure seed banks (our National Collection). This keeps restoration options open and forestalls the continued loss of genetic variation in the wild before restoration can be undertaken. The National Collection is obviously a species-based approach to securing plant genetic resources, but our ultimate objective is restoration using an integrated process to achieve recovery and robust, sustainable populations in natural habitat and wild systems. Our work aligns very well with the Convention on Biological Diversity’s (CBD) Global Strategy for Plant Conservation adopted in 2002 by the Conference of the Parties (Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity 2002). We have already demonstrated real progress in four of the strategy’s targets: building a national network, developing science-based protocols, securing ex-situ plant material, and engaging in recovery and restoration planning and implementation. We are also engaged with adult consciousness raising which addresses another target, communication of the importance of plant diversity and conservation. We strive to communicate the importance of plant biodiversity conservation to the public, and we also have an active training program and web resources for practitioners. In addition, as a private non-profit organization, we are able to raise funds and work toward building some independent sustainable funding for our Participating Institutions to support ongoing, long-term work. Our ex-situ programs are designed from the beginning to support restoration work in the wild. CPC coordinates the only program in the United States specifically dedicated to securing genetically representative samples of our most vulnerable plant populations in seed banks or slow growth tissue culture. We currently have assumed responsibility for ex-situ work for nearly 700 taxa nationwide, representing over 13 million seeds. CPC scientists are often the first to try to grow these native plants. We learn to germinate and propagate hardy material suitable for restoration and develop protocols, as well as determining breeding systems. We are also active in restoration work in-situ. Our institutions currently monitor over 1,200 imperiled plant sites nationwide. They also assist in habitat restoration, including the control of invasive species and community rehabilitation, and are working on over 80 reintroduction and restoration projects nationwide. Restoration ecology is a new science, and work for reintroduction and restoration of imperiled plant populations is still in its infancy. We conduct restoration work in a science-based manner, designing restorations in an experimental context to test techniques and learn as we go. Because each of our Participating Institutions makes a long-term commitment to the species they work with, we are increasingly successful. One of the projects we are especially proud of is the recovery of Robbins’ cinquefoil (Potentilla robbinsiana, Figure 5.2). This endangered plant was known from only three sites with only a few hundred plants when it was listed, and is native to the rigorous environment of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The New England Wild Flower Society, a Participating Institution, has responsibility for this species. They have seed banked it and learned to propagate it, work supported in part by funding from the CPC’s plant sponsorship program. After nearly twenty years of
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Fig. 5.2 Robbins’ cinquefoil (Potentilla robbinsiana), the first plant removed from the Endangered Species List because recovery implementation actions had been accomplished. Photo by Doug Weihrauch, Appalachain Mountain Club. Printed with permission
efforts in partnership with the U.S. Forest Service, trail groups, the USFWS and many volunteers, the species has rebounded and has reached several thousand individuals. Associated projects on behalf of the species included threat abatement by discouraging over collection, rerouting a trail that aggravated trampling by hikers, as well as augmentation of an existing population, and reintroductions. Consequently, in 2002, the USFWS removed the plant from the Endangered Species list. Efforts continue to establish additional populations, although in this rigorous environment it will be some time before success can be definitively demonstrated. Robbins’ cinquefoil is the first plant removed from the list because recovery actions had been successfully implemented. This is the success story that we would like to be able to repeat for all the imperiled species in the United States. It is CPC’s premise that, by working locally through good, science-based conservation programs established in community institutions, we can collaborate with state and federal agencies and establish strong partnerships to implement recovery. We work to engage the local community through volunteers, interns, and graduate students. That community presence is one of our strengths. Our institutions have millions of visitors to their gardens each year, and if they are able to share their commitment, work, and success stories with the public, we will have the national support necessary for stronger plant restoration funding and policies. In addition, local communities will have the information and opportunities they need to appreciate and value their local plant biodiversity, which is key to providing the long-term stewardship needed to sustain these plants through the challenges of the future.
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References Balick, M.J., Elisabetsky, E., Laird, S.A. (1996). Medicinal resources of the tropical forest: biodiversity and its importance to human health. New York: Columbia University Press. Barrett, C. (2001). CPC National Collection Plant Profile: Helianthus paradoxus. Resource document. Center for Plant Conservation. http://www.centerforplantconservation.org/ASP/CPC ViewProfile.asp?CPCNum=2202 Accessed April 2007. Butterfield, B. (2006). The 2005 national gardening survey. South Burlington, VT: National Gardening Association. Crespo, C.J., Keteyian, S.J., Heath, G.W., Sempos, C.T. (1996). Leisure-time physical activity among U.S. adults. Results from the Third National Health and Nutrition Examination Study. Archives of Internal Medicine, 156(1), 93. Dalton, R. (2003). Natural history collections in crisis as funding is sliced. Nature, 423, 575. Dobson, A.P., Rodriguez, Roberts, W.M., Wilcove, D.S. (1997). Geographic distribution of endangered species in the United States. Science, 275(5299), 550–553. Farnsworth, N.R., & Soejarto, D.D. (1985). Potential consequence of plant extinction in the United States on the current and future availability of prescription drugs. Economic Botany, 39(3), 231–40. Flora of North America. (2008). Flora of North America, The Project. Resource document. http://hua.huh.harvard.edu/FNA/introduction.shtml. Accessed February 2008. Ganeshaiah, K.N., Uma Shaanker, R., Barve, N., Kiran, M.C., Bawa, K.S., Ramanata Rao, V. (2002). In situ conservation of forest genetic resource at regional level: two complementary programmes using GIS approach. In J. M. M. Engels, V. Ramanatha Rao, A. H. D. Brown, M. T. Jackson (Eds.), Managing plant genetic diversity. New York: CABA Publishing. George, S., Snape, W.J., Senatore, M. (1998). State endangered species acts: past, present and future. Washington DC: Defenders of Wildlife. Kennedy, K.L. (1997). Presentation: providing for pollinators in rare plant conservation. In Ecological restoration and regional conservation. Abstracts of the Society for Ecological Restoration 9th annual international conference, Nov. 12–15, Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Kerr, J.T. (1997). Species richness, endemism, and the choice of areas for conservation. Conservation Biology, 11(5), 1094–1100. Maddox, S.K., & Race, T. (2001). CPC national collection plant profile: Cucurbita okeechobeensis. Resource document. Center for Plant Conservation. http://www.centerforplantconservation. org/ASP/CPC ViewProfile.asp?CPCNum=1148. Accessed April 2007. Mann, C.C., & Plummer, M.L. (1995). Noah’s choice: the future of endangered species. New York: A.A. Knopf. Market Wire. (2002). House and home survey: back to Eden—gardening is top leisure activity for men and women. Resource document. Bnet business network. http://findarticles. com/p/articles/mi pwwi/is 200206/ai mark03043996. Accessed April 2007. Master, L.L., Stein, B., Kutner, L., Hammerson, G. (2000). Vanishing assets: conservation status of U.S. species. In B. Stein, L. Kutner, J. Adams (Eds.), Precious heritage (pp. 93–118). The Nature Conservancy. New York: Oxford University Press (US). Phillips, O.L, Meilleur, B.A. (1998). Usefulness and economic potential of the rare plants of the United States: a statistical survey. Economic Botany, 52(1), 57–67. Raven, P.H. (2003). Biodiversity and the future. American Scientist, 91, 382. Roberson, E.B. (2002). Barriers to native plant conservation in the United States: funding, staffing, law. Sacramento CA: Native Plant Conservation Campaign, California Native Plant Society, and Tucson, AZ: Center for Biological Diversity. Schultz, C.B., & Gerber, L.R. (2002). Are recovery plans improving with practice? Ecological Applications, 12(3), 641–647. Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity. (2002). Global strategy for plant conservation. Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity and Botanic Gardens Conservation International (http://www.bgci.org.uk/files/7/0/global strategy.pdf). Accessed March 2007. Seiler, G., & Gulya Jr., T.J. (2004). Exploration for wild Helianthus species in North America: challenges and opportunities in the search for global treasures. International Sunflower Conference Proceedings, v.1
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Sorrie, B.A., & Weakley, A.S. (2006). Conservation of the endangered Pinus palustris ecosystem based on Coastal Plain centres of plant endemism. Applied Vegetation Science, 9(1). Stohlgren, T.J., Guenther, D.A., Evangelista, P.H., Alley, N. (2005). Patterns of plant species richness, rarity, endemism, and uniqueness in an arid landscape. Ecological Applications, 15(2), 715–725. Sundberg, M.D. (2000). Plant biology at the beginning of the new millennium. Introduction. Plant Science Bulletin, 46(1), 2. U.S. Code. (2004). The Endangered Species Act of 1973 as amended. 16USC1531(a)3)16USC1531(b). http://frwebgate.access.gpo.gov/cgi bin/getdoc.cgi?dbname=browse usc&docid =Cite:+16USC1531. Accessed April 2007. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. (2008). General statistics for endangered species. Resource document. http://ecos.fws.gov/tess public/SummaryStatistics.do. Accessed Feb. 2008. U. S. Forest Service. (2001) National survey on recreation and the environment (NSRE): 2000–2001. The interagency National Survey Consortium, coordinated by the U.S. Forest Service, Recreation, Wilderness, and Demographics Trends Research Group, Athens, GA and the Human Dimensions Research Laboratory, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN. Resource document. http://www.srs.fs.usda.gov/trends/Nsre/nsre2.html. Accessed April 2007. Virolainen, K. M., Suomi, T., Suhonen, J., Kuitunen, M. (1998). Conservation of vascular plants in single large and several small mires: species richness, rarity, and taxonomic diversity. J. Applied Ecology, 35(5), 700–707. Wandersee, J.H., & Clary, R.M. (2006). Advances in research towards a theory of plant blindness. Proceedings of the 6th International Congress on Education in Botanic Gardens. Sept. 10–14, 2006. http://www.bgci.org/educationcongress/proceedings/Authors/Wandersee,%20James%20%20RP.pdf. Wandersee, J.H., & Schussler, E.E. (2001). Toward a theory of plant blindness. Plant Science Bulletin, 47(1), 2–9. White, P.S. (1996). Spatial and biological scales in reintroduction. In D.A. Falk, D.I. Millar, M. Olwell (Eds.), Restoring diversity: strategies for reintroduction of endangered plants (pp. 49–56). Washington DC: Island Press.
Chapter 6
The Piping Plover as an Umbrella Species for the Barrier Beach Ecosystem Scott Hecker
Abstract Conservation of federally threatened Piping Plovers (Charadrius melodus) on the Atlantic Coast has contributed greatly to the overall conservation of the barrier beach ecosystem. From the northernmost nesting pairs in maritime Canada to the southernmost wintering individuals in the Caribbean islands, biologists deploy above average resources and effort to locate, map, and conserve this species and its habitats. Efforts to protect Piping Plovers benefit other beach-nesting birds, migrating and wintering shorebirds, threatened and endangered species, and barrier beach fauna and flora. Over the past twenty or more years of targeted Piping Plover conservation efforts, both the target species and its associates have increased dramatically at key sites throughout its range. The history of Piping Plover and barrier beach conservation in Massachusetts and the management techniques developed there serve as a model for the National Audubon Society’s Coastal Bird Conservation Program as it promotes and develops similar conservation measures for beach-nesting birds and barrier beach habitats throughout North America. “If I were required to name a sound, the remembrance of which most perfectly revives the impression which the beach has made, it would be the . . .peep of the piping plover . . .” -Henry David Thoreau, Cape Cod, 1865
6.1 Why the Piping Plover Serves as an Umbrella Species The Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus; Figure 6.1) serves as an umbrella species for the barrier beach ecosystems of the Atlantic Coast, where much of this species’ nesting habitat is associated with barrier beaches. The Piping Plover serves a similar role as an umbrella species in the Great Lakes, where its beach and dune habitats are similar to coastal barrier beaches, as well as on the northern Great Plains where the plover’s nesting habitat is along the shorelines of lakes and rivers. The value of the Piping Plover as an umbrella species is not so much because the Atlantic Coast population of the Piping Plover requires barrier beach habitat, but more because as a federally threatened (Atlantic coastal and Great Plains populations) and endangered (Great Lakes population) species, each Piping Plover, its eggs, young, and the habitat they occupy are afforded increased levels of legal protection, extending benefits to other species of fauna and flora. The spatial distribution of Piping Plovers, their nests, R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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Fig. 6.1 The Piping Plover by John James Audubon. Printed with permission of the National Audubon Society
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and their foraging habitats further adds to the value of this umbrella effect because each plover pair may use a fairly large territory (100 meters to 1000 meters of linear beach or bay) for nesting, foraging, and rearing their highly mobile young. Thanks to twenty years of targeted conservation efforts the number of breeding and wintering sites occupied by this species has also increased significantly, expanding the total umbrella effect, particularly on the Atlantic Coast (USFWS 2007).
6.2 Introduction to Conservation Status of the Piping Plover The global breeding distribution of the Piping Plover is limited to the United States and Canada. Breeding Piping Plovers occur in three distinct populations on the Atlantic Coast, the northern Great Plains, and the Great Lakes (Figure 6.2). Most of its known population is limited to the southeastern United States in the non-breeding-season, and though the full distribution is not known, it appears that the remainder winter in the Caribbean and northern Mexico (Ferland and Haig 2002). By the 1970s conservation biologists in the United States and Canada recognized that Piping Plover populations in many of these locations had been declining since the mid-twentieth century. In 1972 when the National Audubon Society released its first “Blue List” of birds with deteriorating status, the Piping Plover was included (Arbib 1972). By the late 1970s and 1980s legal measures to protect this species were implemented throughout the Piping Plover’s breeding range. The Canadian Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada designated the Piping Plover as “Threatened” in 1978 and then elevated the plover’s status to “Endangered” in 1985 (Canadian Wildlife Service 1989). On January 10, 1986 the Piping Plover was listed under the U.S. Endangered Species Act. The Great Lakes population was designated endangered and the Great Plains and Atlantic Coast populations were designated as threatened (USFWS 1985). In Canada further legal protection for Piping Plovers was afforded in 2002 with the passage of the Species at Risk Act (Environment Canada 2007). The total population for the species in the mid-1980s, based upon averages from surveys in the early and mid1980s, was estimated at 4,000 birds with a majority occurring in the United States (Haig and Oring 1985). In 1986 the Atlantic coast population of Piping Plovers was estimated at 790 breeding pairs, of which 550 pairs were counted in the United States (USFWS 1988).
6.3 Conservation Trends for the Piping Plover The Piping Plover was first described as a species and named in 1842 by George Ord, a friend and colleague of John James Audubon. Earlier the Piping Plover was thought to be a paler race of the Semipalmated Plover (Charadrius semipalmatus). The early conservation history of the Piping Plover includes a period of near extinction at the close of the 19th Century. From the late 1800s into the early 1900s, until the passing of the Migratory Bird Act and Treaty of 1918, market gunners and sportsmen had a devastating impact on many species of coastal birds. With few regulations and even less enforcement, millions of birds representing numerous North American species were harvested. Included in the high toll on shorebirds was the then
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Fig. 6.2 Range map of the Piping Plover. Printed with permission of the National Audubon Society
rapidly declining population of the Piping Plover. In 1908 Edward Howe Forbush, then employed as the Massachusetts State Ornithologist, was convinced that the Piping Plover was near extinction and reported to the National Association of Audubon Societies that “the entire number (of Piping Plovers) seen on the Massachusetts coast in July did not exceed twenty birds” (Forbush 1925). Concern for this species in Massachusetts, as well as for its cousin, the Killdeer, led to the passing of “The Plover Bill” in 1909, which prohibited the shooting of these two species during the breeding season (Massachusetts Acts 1909). Despite this early effort, however, it was feared by bird conservationists in the fledgling Audubon movement, that it was probably too late to save the Piping Plover from extinction. Fortunately, with the passage of additional regulations and the broader movement to protect native North American bird species, the Piping Plover and others were spared and began the slow road to recovery (USFWS 1988).
6.4 The Piping Plover as an Indicator Species Widespread declines of the Piping Plover were not noted again until after World War II, when coastal development surged to unprecedented levels, and once again the Piping Plover was noted as a species showing substantial population declines. This time, however, the plover’s decline wasn’t the result of a single impact, such as the killing of adult birds by shooting, but rather, the result of cumulative impacts of multiple factors associated with coastal development and human disturbance at its nesting areas. It
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was not surprising therefore that the declining Piping Plover was also described as an indicator species of an entire ecosystem that was in trouble (USFWS 1996). Several other species of barrier-beach animals and plants were declining along with the Piping Plover, and some of these were also listed as threatened or endangered. In 1987 the Roseate Tern (Sterna dougallii), which shared some of the same beaches with the Piping Plover in Massachusetts, was listed as endangered in the northeastern United States (USFWS 1987). Also, other Atlantic Coast barrier-beach species such as the northeastern beach tiger beetle (Cincindela dorsalis dorsalis) (USFWS 1990), the loggerhead sea turtle (Caretta caretta) (USFWS 1987) and the sea beach amaranth (Amaranthus pumilus) (USFWS 1993) were designated as threatened. All of these species have threats in common with the Piping Plover, including habitat loss due to shoreline development, degradation caused by shoreline stabilization measures, and crushing by off-road vehicles (USFWS 1996). Thus, Piping Plover protection provides benefits beyond saving a single species of shorebird from extinction by also preserving the ecological health of our barrier beaches.
6.5 The Piping Plover as an Umbrella Species In describing the Piping Plover as an umbrella species, I will start by considering other species of birds that nest among or in close proximity to Piping Plovers. Of the dozens of bird species that this includes, some species are now rare or declining and, therefore, are particularly noteworthy as examples of the protective umbrella effect of the Piping Plover. Some of these bird species on the Atlantic Coast would include the Wilson’s Plover (Charadrius wilsonia), American Oystercatcher (Haematopus palliatus), Least Tern (Sternula antillarum), Common Tern (Sterna hirundo), Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisaea), Gull-billed Tern (Gelochelidon nilotica), and Black Skimmer (Rynchops niger) (USFWS 1996). Rare species of tiger beetles, sea turtles, and plants also benefit from this umbrella effect. Since the Piping Plover breeds only in the United States and Canada, where it is federally protected, its entire population is also protected throughout the full-length of its breeding season in the spring and summer. Also, because the majority of the Piping Plover’s known nonbreeding population remains in the United States during the remaining months (Ferland and Haig 2002), most of its known population is protected by federal law year-round. Today, the precise extent of the distribution of this species over these large coastal landscapes on the Atlantic Coast is well documented, almost down to the individual bird. At sites used by Piping Plovers, surprisingly large areas can be used for nesting, roosting, and foraging, and these areas include a variety of coastal barrier beach habitat types. For example, a family of Piping Plovers may forage, walk, and rest in an area covering a mile of beachfront, dunes, bayfront, inlets, and intertidal mudflats in a single day. This is important to consider when one strives to protect multiple elements of an ecosystem, such as those composing the barrier beach ecosystem. This is particularly important when other local, state, or federal regulations may not be as protective as those invoked by the occurrence of Piping Plovers or other federally listed species. The degree of legal protection available and applicable to the barrier beach ecosystem varies widely among regions, but in some locations the
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Fig. 6.3 Piping Plover chicks and egg. Photo by Scott Hecker
protective measures associated with the occurrence of Piping Plovers may be the only regulatory mechanism to avert some environmental threats. The amount of habitat that a Piping Plover extends protection to varies, but in general their large foraging territories and wide distribution on the Atlantic coast offer a significant opportunity for this species to serve as an umbrella species for a large percentage of the key Atlantic beach strand habitat. For the most part the Piping Plovers are solitary in their nesting behavior, defending individual territories that are generally more than 50 meters apart (Figure 6.3). On the Atlantic coast the Piping Plover typically breeds along oceanic coastal beaches from Newfoundland south to North Carolina (Haig 1992). It is a bird of the outer beaches, typically linked to the early stages of beach succession. Because barrier beaches are formed and regularly maintained in a dynamic relationship with coastal storms and currents, they continually offer the type of habitats sought by breeding Piping Plovers with new habitats created as others are destroyed or rendered unsuitable as a result of plant succession. Plover pairs may be found nesting alone or in well-spaced breeding territories along sections of prime habitat on beaches with broad berms, overwashes, and blowouts. The barrier beach habitat of the Piping Plover is patchy in its distribution along the several thousand miles of coastline within their nesting range, where approximately 1,743 pairs of Piping Plovers nested at several hundred beaches in 2006 (Elise Elliot-Smith personal communication 2007). The exact amount of breeding habitat used has not been determined for the species on the Atlantic coast, but it is fair to say that the majority of un-altered barrier beach habitat within its distribution is used for nesting or nonbreeding habitat, which means the Piping Plover can rightly be described as an effective umbrella species for this ecosystem.
6.6 “The Massachusetts Miracle” (Line 1996) With the advantage of hindsight and twenty years of Piping Plover conservation experience in Massachusetts and elsewhere, I will review the various aspects of the conservation history of the threatened Atlantic Coast population of the Piping Plover and its
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associated barrier beach habitats. The Piping Plover has served as an exemplary model of conservation success, both for single species-focused conservation efforts and the secondary conservation of associated barrier-beach ecosystems. After the federal listing of the Piping Plover in the United States and Canada, the conservation status of this little-known, inconspicuous species was elevated from a growing regional concern to one of targeted international concern with the increased conservation efforts that often follow such a listing. Immediate results of a federal listing generally include mandates that governmental agency staff dedicate more time and resources toward the listed species and develop conservation plans and/or endangered species recovery plans soon thereafter. Section 6.6 of the Endangered Species Act specifically coordinates the activities of federal and state agencies in the protection of listed species and allows the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) to grant funds to affected states to facilitate management actions for protection and recovery of the listed species. Additionally, this increased government funding often leads to matching resources from private sources. Following the Piping Plover’s federal listing the USFWS sought partnerships with state wildlife agencies and others on the Atlantic coast to conserve the Piping Plover and its habitat. In Massachusetts an expanded effort to upgrade the conservation focus on Piping Plovers was implemented quickly thanks to the existence of an already noteworthy statewide coastal bird conservation program coordinated by the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Complementing this effort, the Massachusetts Audubon Society had been posting and providing wardens for many of the state’s tern colonies since the early 1960s. Many of these sites included nesting Piping Plovers, which were at first protected by the umbrella effect of the Society’s Tern Program. On-the-ground actions to conserve the Piping Plover at beaches in Massachusetts increased when the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife (MDFW) added this species to its targeted statewide tern census efforts in 1984 (Blodget 1985). Federal listing of the Piping Plover and the Roseate Tern was an impetus for the Massachusetts Audubon Society to expand its Tern Program in 1987, at which time the Society hired a year-round director, added Piping Plovers to its conservation focus, and renamed this field-based effort as the Coastal Waterbird Program (CWP). In its first year the CWP played a lead role in the state’s annual census of terns and Piping Plovers, which resulted in one of the most thorough statewide census efforts for these species in the country. The 1987 census also established an accurate benchmark of 126 pairs of Piping Plovers at 49 sites for Massachusetts (Melvin 1988). It is important to add that Least Terns, the bird species most closely associated with Piping Plover habitat, were estimated at 2,109 pairs in 1987 (Melvin 1988) and provided another baseline for measuring the possible umbrella-effect associated with the Piping Plover. In explaining how the Piping Plover has functioned as an umbrella species it is worth mentioning how a culture of Piping Plover conservationists grew from many different points and converged in this example from Massachusetts. Three out of five Piping Plover recovery plan team members were based in Massachusetts and therefore it was easy for the USFWS and MDFW to work closely together. The first comprehensive conservation plan for the Piping Plover, Atlantic Coast Piping Plover Recovery Plan (USFWS 1988), was published in 1988. Several graduate students based in Massachusetts chose to conduct graduate studies on Piping Plovers at sites on Cape Cod in the late 1980s. The Piping Plover received additional legal protection
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in Massachusetts under the state’s comprehensive Wetland Protection Act (1986) and Endangered Species Act (1990), which increased the responsibility of all landowners that hosted Piping Plovers to become familiar with their obligations to this species. The convergence of all of these interests occurred through the dedicated effort of the MDFW to enlist the involvement of all possible partners in association with its annual effort to complete its comprehensive census of terns and plovers. Since the early 1970s the MDFW has organized partners to census the state’s four species of breeding terns. The Piping Plover was first included in the annual tern census in 1982. By 1987, with a trend of increasing numbers of participants, this effort was expanded to include greater emphasis on actions that could be carried out in the field to conserve these species and their habitats. Therefore, in addition to coordinating the annual census, partners began to focus on developing best practices for protecting nests and managing adverse impacts to the species and their habitats. Under the guidance and leadership of the MDFW, the conservation focus on Piping Plovers and other beach-nesting birds increased annually with expanding staffing and volunteer efforts conducted by all cooperating government agencies, nonprofit organizations, and land managers. All known plover and tern nesting sites in Massachusetts were surveyed annually, and most of these sites included annual monitoring and posting at some level. This protection effort led by a state agency was used as a template for activities in neighboring states. Although the Massachusetts Audubon Society had annually posted signs at most of the state’s large tern colonies since the 1960s, Piping Plovers were rarely noted, but probably nested in small numbers within the bounds of many of these posted colonies. Even when Piping Plovers received complementary protection within the bounds of posted tern colonies, it was not until a month or more after their typical arrival dates in March and April, as tern colonies were not posted until after the tern’s arrival in May. However, with the new focus on Piping Plovers in the late 1980s, the objectives of annual field-based protection activities for terns were redesigned to include new measures for Piping Plovers as well as to significantly expand the number of sites to census, monitor, and protect by including areas outside of tern colonies, including sites where Piping Plovers were suspected of nesting, and posting of sites wherever plovers occurred. In 1987 approximately 60 beaches in Massachusetts were surveyed for Piping Plovers, and 47 of these sites hosted breeding pairs (Melvin 1988). For the first time many of these sites were posted and thus protected at a new level owing solely to the presence of Piping Plovers. By expanding the statewide efforts to include Piping Plovers, many new protectionoriented objectives were developed and implemented. The 1988 Atlantic Coast Piping Plover Recovery Plan outlined specific objectives to reduce impacts to this species and to increase their populations. Monitoring activities were to go beyond annual population surveys and were to include research to better understand the suspected impacts of habitat alteration, predation, and human disturbance. As these impacts were better understood, field activities were to be implemented that would lead to their reduction. The Atlantic Coast Piping Plover Recovery Plan went beyond the protection of these birds and the contents of their nests. Any habitat management activities, even activities once thought to be beneficial to barrier beaches, such as beach grass planting, became identified as regulated activities and were to be reduced in habitats supporting Piping Plovers (USFWS 1988). On the other hand, habitat alterations that may benefit
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Piping Plovers, such as deposition of dredge spoils, were encouraged. From a habitat viewpoint, the early stages of barrier beach succession, in which beach habitats are relatively flat and devoid of vegetation, became elevated in importance, given their new status as critical to the Piping Plovers and its co-inhabitants. For the first time aggressive management activities aimed at stabilizing dunes and reducing erosion were to be regulated, and if necessary, reduced or eliminated when deemed likely to impact Piping Plovers. In 1986, the first year the Piping Plover was listed as threatened, little news appeared in the media about the relevance of this bird to the management of beaches. However, as signs went up around Piping Plover nesting areas landowners and the public began to ask about this bird, which few had ever heard of at the time. As the managers of town-owned public beaches learned more about the legal liabilities associated with nesting Piping Plovers, local newspapers began to run articles about this inconspicuous beach inhabitant. Starting in 1988 the Massachusetts Audubon Society’s Coastal Waterbird Program began an annual practice of sending letters to every town and every property owner where its staff found Piping Plovers or terns to inform them of the birds and to ask for their permission to carry out roping and posting activities upon the arrival of these birds at their nesting sites. Rarely was there any objection to this by property owners or managers. Within a few years the media’s interest in this species increased significantly and stories about the conservation of the Piping Plover appeared in newspapers and magazines and on television, at times it seemed weekly, culminating with a 1993 Boston Globe article reporting that, “The Piping Plover is emerging as the spotted owl of the Atlantic coast” (McLaughlin 1993). The relationship of Piping Plovers to local beaches and the public’s awareness of this conservation issue had now become well established. Starting in 1987 the focus of plover conservationists in the field started to shift from just the posting of signs and rope to the increased use of wire fence fashioned into “predator exclosures” to protect individual Piping Plover nests (Figure 6.4). Early experiments using welded wire fence, with mesh at ground level just large enough to let an adult plover walk in or out proved to be highly successful at protecting plover eggs from most predators, as well as inadvertent crushing by pedestrians or vehicles
Fig. 6.4 Piping Plover predator exclosure. Photo by Scott Hecker
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Fig. 6.5 Plover and tern nesting area protected with welded-wire, solar-powered fence. Photo by Scott Hecker
(Figure 6.5). The Coastal Waterbird Program adopted this design, as well as other provisions including the solar-powered electric fence, to increase protection for large tern and plover nesting areas of up to eight acres. Although meant to protect the eggs, young, and adults of these birds from mammalian predation and human disturbance, this new strategy incidentally added a new level of protection for everything associated with the habitats within these fenced areas. During the Piping Plover nesting season from April through July, all of the fauna and flora within the bounds of fenced and roped nesting sites were afforded additional protection from predation, human disturbance, pets, and trampling. In addition, the increasingly large fenced areas, which were intended to provide disturbance-free resting and foraging areas for Piping Plovers and their young, also provided sheltered roosting areas for large numbers of shorebirds during high tides when space on the beach was further reduced and at a premium. Following the initial success from implementing “predator exclosures” in the late 1980s and early 1990s, it became apparent that protection for hatched chicks was inadequate as soon as they ventured outside the bounds of fenced areas. Documented post-hatching impacts of off-road-vehicle use on plover chicks surfaced as another primary concern that impacted the conservation of this species. Research on Sandy Neck in Barnstable documented significantly higher numbers of breeding pairs and, more importantly, a four-fold increase in fledging rates along areas of the beach where vehicle use was prohibited (Strauss 1990). To draw attention to this issue and to examine all aspects of barrier beach management affecting coastal bird conservation, the Coastal Waterbird Program, in conjunction with the Association for the Preservation of Cape Cod, organized the state’s first Barrier Beach Symposium on Cape Cod in May 1992. The daylong symposium was attended by beach managers, park department staff, biologists, coastal geologists, and recreational stakeholders and successfully introduced the new issues of beach management associated with protecting the federally listed Piping Plover and other coastal birds. Following up on the momentum of the symposium, a state task force was formed under the chairmanship of the Massachusetts Office of Coastal Zone Management for all interested stakeholders. Although the task force examined nearly all aspects of barrier beach management and
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use, at the heart of the task force meetings were the issues concerning the protection of Piping Plovers and their habitat from the impacts of human activities. Also, several high-profile regulatory cases concerning Piping Plovers and their protection were argued during these same few years at various locations on Cape Cod, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard. Therefore, the work of the task force and deliberations in these regulatory cases were likely to converge in the process of developing consistent recommendations to address these issues. The turning point that lead to a marked reduction in vehicular use on beaches in Massachusetts stemmed from the actions of the Massachusetts Audubon Society and a resident of Orleans on Cape Cod in 1990. Prior to 1990 off-road-vehicle use on town beaches in Orleans was fairly unregulated, and therefore in the summer months hundreds of vehicles at a time were permitted on the beach (Figure 6.6). An attorney representing the Massachusetts Audubon Society and a local citizen made the case that under the provisions of the Massachusetts Wetland Protection Act, local regulators on the Orleans Conservation Commission should regulate the use of vehicles on beaches, in that their use created roads in protected wetland habitats and therefore was
Fig. 6.6 Off-road vehicles on Plymouth Beach, Massachusetts in 1989. Photo by Cary Wolinsky. Printed with permission
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a violation of the Act. After much wrangling and a 3-3 deadlock vote, the decision was appealed to the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection (DEP). The final state DEP ruling concluded that off-road-vehicles, if unregulated, were likely to impact the habitat of Piping Plovers. Consequently, for the first time a town permitting off-road-vehicle use on a beach where Piping Plovers nested was forced to restrict this use to a degree that would not harm the habitat of the Piping Plover at a level that would diminish their population. The outcomes of this convergence of policy and regulatory cases was published and summarized in February 1994, when after nearly two years of monthly meetings the state’s Barrier Beach Task Force released its comprehensive guidance manual, Guidelines for Barrier Beach Management in Massachusetts (EOEA 1994). This 266-page book provided a recipe for barrier beach management. Its appendices included two just-released (1993) guidance documents that outlined statewide performance standards specific to the protection of Piping Plovers and/or their habitats. In reference to the Massachusetts Endangered Species Act, Massachusetts Division of Fish and Wildlife issued “Guidelines for Managing Recreational Use of Beaches to Protect Piping Plovers, Terns, and their Habitats in Massachusetts” (MDFW 1993), and the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection promulgated new guidelines titled, “Recommended Conditions for Activities on Barrier Beaches” (MDEP 1993) to protect Piping Plovers and other state-listed species under the Massachusetts Wetland Protection Act. The single most important guideline affecting Piping Plovers and their co-inhabitants and their habitats stated “vehicles shall be prohibited from all dune, beach, and intertidal habitat within 100 yards of either side of a line drawn through the nest site and perpendicular to the long axis of the beach.” “The boundaries of the protected area shall be adjusted periodically to provide at least a one-hundred (100)-yard buffer between actual habitat and vehicles . . .” (MDEP 1993). This and other well-articulated measures now required property owners and site managers to increase levels of protection for these birds and their breeding habitat or face possible fines and/or other penalties. Despite the ensuing local battles in particular towns during the next several years, site after site received better protection from the impacts of off-road vehicles and erosion control practices; and the quality of Piping Plover habitat improved along with dramatically increased numbers of nesting plovers. Where hundreds of vehicles a day once drove along the thirty-nine miles of trails on Cape Cod National Seashore in the 1970s, restrictions resulting from these new levels of protection for Piping Plovers in the 1990s reduced vehicle use to as little as one-quarter mile during portions of plover’s summer breeding season. An expanding Piping Plover population then contributed to state and regional increases in the number of breeding sites occupied by Piping Plovers, which then further added acres and linear miles of habitat protected under the regulatory guidelines for Piping Plovers. To protect breeding Piping Plovers these new regulatory measures often sharply decreased the use and associated impacts of off-road-vehicles on large barrier beaches during the breeding season. Other significant impacts to Piping Plover habitats stemming from erosion control and dunebuilding practices, such as beach grass planting and snow fence installation, were also eliminated or redesigned to better accommodate plovers and terns. Beach raking, particularly the removal of wrack, which served as an important foraging habitat for plovers and other shorebirds, also fell within the regulatory measures and therefore
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was prohibited under conditions that would likely affect Piping Plovers. Ultimately the owners of beaches, typically government and private beach-managers, needed to hire additional staff and develop site-specific management plans to adequately protect Piping Plovers and their habitats to comply with the detailed requirements of these performance standards under federal and state laws. The new focus and increased protection of Piping Plovers in the early 1990s in Massachusetts contributed to dramatic and steady increases in the state breeding population for this species (Figure 6.7) as well as for some of the state’s other beachnesters often associated with these plovers, such as the Least Tern and the American Oystercatcher. The breeding population of the Piping Plover reached a high point in 2002, when 538 pairs nested in Massachusetts, a greater than four-fold increase in their state population since 1987 (Melvin and Mostello 2007). During this same period Least Terns, Common Terns, and American Oystercatchers posted major increases at sites shared by Piping Plovers. A decline in the population of breeding plover pairs since that point is largely attributed to the decreased effectiveness of “predator exclosures” resulting from experienced “smart” predators and the absence, since the early 1990s, of major coastal storms, and their associated positive effects on the habitat of beach-nesting species. Since the state’s Piping Plover population high in 2002, levels of protection for this species and its habitats from the impacts of human activities on the breeding grounds have remained relatively stable. Moreover, Piping Plover conservation work similar to that pioneered in the early 1990s in Massachusetts has increased in other parts of the breeding range. The U. S. Atlantic Coast population has nearly tripled from 550 in 1986 to 1,491 pairs in 2006 (USFWS 2007). The number of sites occupied by breeding Piping Plovers and therefore protected at enhanced levels in Massachusetts has more than doubled from 49 in 1986 to 110 in 2006 (Melvin 2007). Many species of birds use the nesting and foraging habitats of Piping Plovers associated with beaches on the Atlantic Coast breeding grounds. Much of this habitat, particularly in Massachusetts, has received significant increases in protection from human
Fig. 6.7 Change in the number of breeding pairs of Piping Plovers in Massachusetts from 1986 to 2006. Data compiled from Massachusetts Division of Fish and Wildlife Piping Plover annual summaries
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associated impacts including erosion control practices, off-road vehicle use, predation (e.g., increased predators associated with trash), and disturbance by beach-goers and pets. Biologists have noted that other threatened or endangered species, such as sea beach amaranth and northeastern beach tiger beetle, have returned to protected Piping Plover sites where they had been absent for years.
6.7 The Umbrella Effect on the Winter Grounds Due to its federal threatened or endangered species status, the Piping Plover continues to provide added attention and protection for its habitat throughout its breeding range. In 2007, in response to the threat of legal action over the protection of Piping Plovers, the Canadian government adopted new measures to increase protection for breeding Piping Plovers and their habitats. As the population of breeding Piping Plovers has appeared to plateau in some regions, the conservation focus has begun to shift to the Piping Plover’s non-breeding range. Although some Piping Plovers winter at sites beyond the reach of the U. S. Endangered Species Act in portions of the Caribbean and Mexico, the majority of its known wintering population resides in the southeastern United States (Ferland and Haig 2002). Comprehensive surveys of wintering Piping Plovers approximately every five years since 1991 have covered all known sites used by this species in the United States. In 2006 the international Piping Plover winter survey located approximately 60 % of the breeding population of this species (Elise Elliot-Smith personal communication 2007). Approximately 3,818 Piping Plovers were located at 285 wintering sites in the southeastern United States, Mexico, and the Caribbean. Of these sites, approximately 91 percent are located in the United States and therefore could receive additional protection afforded Piping Plovers under the Endangered Species Act (Elise Elliot-Smith personal communication 2007). The results of these surveys have focused new levels of conservation attention on these sites, including increased regulatory protection of their habitat under the Critical Habitat process of the federal Endangered Species Act for designated sites within the states and territories of the United States. However, in North Carolina and Texas, there have also been successful legal challenges to the designation of some areas as critical habitat. The staging and foraging habitats of the Piping Plover on its migratory and wintering grounds support countless additional species of migratory and wintering waterbirds and other fauna and flora. Increased efforts to protect the Piping Plover during its non-breeding season will add to the species’ importance as an umbrella species for barrier-beach ecosystems. Protecting foraging and roosting areas for Piping Plovers from human disturbance or other impacts would also benefit a variety of other coastal birds. Fifteen species of coastal birds listed on Audubon’s 2007 WatchList of bird species in jeopardy share wintering habitat with the Piping Plover (Audubon 2007). Among these, five species of shorebirds (Snowy Plover, Wilson’s Plover, Sanderling (Calidris alba), Western Sandpiper (Calidris mauri), and Red Knot) are often seen in significant numbers foraging with Piping Plovers in the southeastern United States. Once again, other federally-listed species, including sea turtles and beach mice, and state-listed species, such as the Snowy Plover, Wilson’s Plover, and the American
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Oystercatcher, occupy these sites and could benefit from the occurrence of Piping Plovers. Compared to protection levels for Piping Plovers and their habitats on the breeding grounds, there is less protection for this species, its habitat, and associated species at non-breeding sites. In part, this is due to the difficulty of proving “take” under the Endangered Species Act for nonbreeding Piping Plovers. However, there are other research and management efforts, including the completion of the recent 2006 International Piping Plover census coordinated by the U.S. Geological Service and the USFWS, and the identification of global and continental level Important Bird Areas (IBAs) for Piping Plovers state-by-state by Audubon and its partners and country-bycountry through BirdLife International partners. In many of these wintering locations, the difficult and time-consuming work of implementing specific management programs still remains to be completed, though progress is taking place in certain areas.
6.8 Audubon Launches the Massachusetts Model Nationwide Largely to address the need for increased protection for federally listed Piping Plovers and their habitats in their winter quarters, as well as further increase the protection of Piping Plovers and other beach-nesters throughout their ranges, the National Audubon Society’s Coastal Bird Conservation Program (CBCP) was established in 2003. Because the task at hand spans breeding locations in North America as well as wintering locations throughout the Western Hemisphere, the aim of the CBCP is to work with every possible interested partner and site manager to increase protection for Piping Plovers and other threatened beach-nesting species during their entire annual life cycle. On the breeding grounds for Piping Plovers and other beach-nesters, our work is modeled after our 15 years experience in Massachusetts. The CBCP has launched initiatives with our new partners in many other states and we have increased the accuracy and extent of baseline data necessary to assess current populations of Piping Plovers, Snowy Plovers, and Wilson’s Plovers throughout the Southeast. Our initial surveys have also resulted in the identification of additional IBAs and new levels of protection from off-road vehicles at globally important sites, such as South Padre Island in Texas. In the years ahead, the Piping Plovers and other endangered coastal birds will continue to play a vital role in the recovery of other coastal bird populations and the restoration of their shared barrier beach ecosystem.
References Arbib, R. (1972). On the art of estimating numbers. American Birds, 26(4), 706–712, 814. Audubon. (2007). The 2007 Audubon WatchList. http://web1.audubon.org/science/species/watchlist/ browsewatchlist.php. Accessed December 2007. Blodget, B. (1985). Tern inventory and survey data for 1984. Unpublished report. Westborough, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Division of Fish and Wildlife. Canadian Wildlife Service. (1989). Canadian piping plover recovery plan. Unpublished report. Ottawa, Ontario, Canada: Canadian Wildlife Service. Environment Canada. (2007). The species at risk act. http://www.sararegistry.gc.ca/the act/default e.cfm. Accessed November 2007.
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EOEA (Executive Office of Environmental Affairs). (1994). Massachusetts Barrier Beach Task Force. Guidelines for barrier beach management in Massachusetts. Boston, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Office of Coastal Zone Management. Ferland, C. L., & Haig, S. M. (2002). 2001 international piping plover census (293 pp.) Corvallis, Oregon: U.S. Geological Survey, Forest and Rangeland Ecosystem Science Center. Forbush, E. H. (1925). Birds of Massachusetts and other New England states. Part 1. Water birds, marsh birds and shore birds. Unpublished report. Boston, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Department of Agriculture. Haig, S. M. (1992). Piping plover. In A. Poole, P. Stettenheim, E. Gill (Eds.), The birds of North America (No. 2). Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: The Academy of Natural Sciences, and Washington, DC: The American Ornithologists’ Union. Haig, S. M., & Oring, L. W. (1985). The distribution and status of the piping plover throughout the annual cycle. The Journal of Field Ornithology, 56(4), 334:345. Line, L. (1996). Massachusetts miracle: piping plovers return to New England. Audubon, 98(2), 20–22 Massachusetts Acts. (1909) c. 508: An Act for the protection of shore, marsh, and beach birds. Section 6.1. In Fish and game laws of Massachusetts (1911) 144 pages. Boston, MA: Wright & Potter Printing Co. McLaughlin, J. (1993). Cape Cod off-roaders; plovers vie for a piece of the beach. The Boston Globe, May 23. MDEP. (1993). Recommended conditions for activities on barrier beaches. Unpublished report. Boston, Massachusetts. Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection. MDFW. (1993). Guidelines for managing recreational use of beaches to protect piping plovers, terns, and their habitats in Massachusetts. Unpublished report. Westborough, MA: Massachusetts Division of Fish and Wildlife. Melvin, S. M. (1988). Status of piping plovers in Massachusetts, annual summaries. Unpublished report. Westborough, MA: Massachusetts Division of Fish and Wildlife. Melvin, S. M. (2007). Summary of 2006 Massachusetts piping plover census data. Unpublished report. Westborough, MA: Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Melvin, S. M., & C. S. Mostello (2007). Summary of 2003 Massachusetts piping plover census data. Unpublished report. Westborough, MA: Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Strauss, E. (1990). Reproductive success, life history patterns, and behavioral variation in a population of piping plovers subjected to human disturbance. Ph.D. thesis, Tufts University, Medford, Massachusetts Thoreau, H. D. (1865). Cape Cod. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. USFWS. (1985). Endangered and threatened wildlife and plants: determination of endangered and threatened status for the piping plover: final rule. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Federal Register, 50 (238), 50726–50734. USFWS. (1987). Endangered and threatened wildlife and plants: determination of endangered and threatened status of the roseate tern: final rule. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Federal Register, 52 (211), 42064–42068 USFWS. (1988). Atlantic coast piping plover recovery plan. Unpublished report. Sudbury, Massachusetts: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. USFWS. (1990). Piping plover management for 1990, a compatibility determination for Trustom Pond National Wildlife Refuge. Charlestown, Rhode Island. Unpublished report. Sudbury, Massachusetts: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. USFWS. (1993). 1993 status update; US Atlantic coast piping plover. Unpublished report. Sudbury, Massachusetts: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. USFWS. (1996). Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus), Atlantic coast population, revised recovery plan. Unpublished report. Sudbury, Massachusetts: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. USFWS. (2007). 2006 status update, U.S. Atlantic coast piping plover. Unpublished report. http:// www.fws.gov/northeast/pipingplover/pdf/preliminary%20stats.06.pdf. Accessed December 2007.
Chapter 7
Restoring Atlantic Salmon (Salmo salar) to New England Stephen Gephard
Abstract The Atlantic salmon is an anadromous salmonid native to New England. Populations were decimated mostly due to barrier dams from the late 1700s to the mid-1900s. Government sponsored restoration programs began in the 1960s and continue to the present day, with the challenges and methods evolving considerably during the past 40 years. Although improving fish passage and hatchery production remain important, greater emphasis is now placed on population genetics and natural selection. Restoration programs resulted in increasing population sizes until the early 1990s, when populations uniformly declined. Oceanic conditions are considered to be a primary factor in this downturn, along with other contributing factors such as salmon aquaculture, habitat degradation, increased water temperatures, and endrocrine disruptors. One segment of the species’ U.S. population is now listed as Endangered under the U.S. Endangered Species Act. The programs began as single-species management but are slowly changing to multispecies diadromous fish restoration programs.
7.1 Introduction The Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) is an anadromous member of the fish family Salmonidae and is the only ‘salmon’ native to the Atlantic Ocean. Juvenile salmon emerge from gravel in the spring and live in freshwater streams between one and six years, depending upon latitude. In general, the higher the latitude of the river, the longer the freshwater phase of its salmon. Freshwater habitat consists of fast-flowing, upland streams with cool, clean water and substrate ranging from gravel to boulders. Young salmon are referred to as ‘fry’ (30–50 mm) and ‘parr’ (>70 mm). When they reach a critical length (115–170 mm), they undergo physiological changes that prepare them for life in the ocean. During this migratory life phase they are referred to as ‘smolts,’ which migrate downstream the following spring and enter the ocean, typically between April and July. ‘Post-smolts’ engage in long-distance marine migrations to common feeding areas in the North Atlantic Ocean. Atlantic salmon from North America congregate in the Davis Straits off Greenland during the summer to feed on fish, krill, and other invertebrates. Upon reaching another critical stage of development, the salmon migrate back to their river of origin to spawn, typically after one to two years at sea. Adults, usually between 63 and 90 cm in length, enter rivers from April to October, depending upon latitude. In general, the higher the latitude of the river, the later the date of entry. In Connecticut, spawning usually occurs in late R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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October or early November. More information on the life history of Atlantic salmon can be found in Scott and Crossman (1973). Atlantic salmon were historically found from western Russia (White Sea area), around the top of Scandinavia, through all of western Europe including the British Isles and Iceland, down to northern Portugal. Salmon were also found in the Baltic Sea. In North America, salmon ranged from the Ungava Bay in northern Quebec down to the Housatonic River in Connecticut (CT). Salmon were also found in Lake Ontario and Lake Champlain (MacCrimmon and Gots 1979). In New England, major salmon rivers included the Penobscot, Kennebec, Androscoggin, and Saco in Maine (ME), the Merrimack in Massachusetts (MA) and New Hampshire (NH), the Blackstone in Rhode Island (RI) and MA, the Pawcatuck in RI, and the Connecticut River in CT, MA, NH and Vermont (VT) (Figure 7.1). The Connecticut River hosted the longest salmon run in the hemisphere, ranging from Long Island Sound north nearly 645 km to Beechers Falls, VT (Atkins 1874). Salmon entered numerous tributaries in all four basin states (CRASC 1998). In Connecticut, salmon also entered the Thames River estuary and ascended both the Shetucket and Quinebaug rivers to reach spawning habitat (Atkins 1874, Whitworth 1996).
Fig. 7.1 New England rivers that supported wild Atlantic salmon runs at the time of European contact. Included are only streams that empty into the ocean (e.g., tributaries of streams are not shown). Selected rivers are coded: A = Connecticut, B = Thames (Shetucket-Quinebaug), C = Pawcatuck, D = Merrimack, E = Saco, F = Androscoggin, G = Kennebec, H = Penobscot, I = St. Croix
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Throughout history, Atlantic salmon was highly valued by humans as a food resource and, later, as a recreational resource. It is considered one of the top game fish in the world and has supported important fisheries wherever it was found.
7.2 The Demise of the Species Some anadromous fishes can spawn in habitat near the coast but Atlantic salmon must reach steep, gravely streams found near the headwaters. When Europeans colonized New England, small dams were immediately constructed to power local mills for grist and lumber. These dams probably had limited impact on salmon runs. However, with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, more and larger dams were built on larger streams. These dams blocked the access of salmon to the critical headwater spawning habitat and runs began to disappear in a general southwest to northeast direction (Bridgeport, CT toward Bangor, ME). Salmon were extirpated from the Housatonic River in the mid-1700s, in the Connecticut in the early 1800s, in the Thames by 1840 (Whitworth 1996), the Merrimack by 1870 (Stolte 1981) and the Penobscot by 1940 (Baum 1997). By World War II, Atlantic salmon persisted in the United States only in a handful of small coastal streams in central and eastern Maine. Subsequent to dam construction, over-harvest and additional habitat degradation, including water pollution, occurred. These factors impacted the salmon runs that remained and presented a practical obstacle to those who dreamed of restoring salmon to New England rivers.
7.3 Restoration Effort The State of Maine and the federal government worked cooperatively on salmon management and research in Maine since the late 1800s. However, modern-day restoration programs trace their genesis to the Anadromous Fisheries Conservation Act passed by the U.S. Congress in 1965, which provided federal funds to States wishing to cooperate in restoring anadromous fish to their waters (Baum 1997, CRASC 1998). The Penobscot River Restoration Program was begun in 1965 (Baum 1997), the multistate, federal Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Restoration Program was begun in 1967 (CRASC 1998), and the Merrimack River Restoration Program was begun in 1969 (Stolte 1981). The Clean Water Act of 1972 and other key environmental laws and trends have greatly improved salmon habitat in New England and improved the chances for successful restoration. In 1985, Congress authorized the Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Commission (CRASC), which manages the restoration program. Although it is the only congressionally authorized anadromous fish commission on the East Coast, its organization has become a model for fish commissions on other rivers. The commission consists of the heads of state fish and wildlife agencies and analogous staff from the federal agencies. CRASC’s Technical Committee consists of senior fish biologists from each agency (Gephard and McMenemy 2004). Each program has set recovery objectives for number of spawners and the geographical extent of the restoration program (e.g., which tributaries are targeted), and
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has decided on methods to achieve the objectives. All programs release hatchery-reared juvenile salmon into the watersheds. The Connecticut River Program initially used fish from the Penobscot River Program, which experienced early success and was able to share some eggs with the rest of New England. Juvenile salmon from federal government hatcheries migrated to sea and came back as adults. These adults have been captured and taken to fish cultural facilities for spawning to create more eggs and juveniles for subsequent release. This cycle continues to be repeated. When returning adults exceed the capacity or needs of the program, the balance of the run is allowed to continue upstream to spawn naturally. The goal of the programs is to reach a point where natural spawning can sustain the population and the operation of the hatcheries can be discontinued. A key component of the restoration programs is providing fish passage at barrier dams. Most dams cannot be removed due to hydroelectric generation, so the most common strategy is to build a fishway at the dam to allow the salmon to get above the dam. Salmon are typically counted and captured for hatchery spawning at traps in these fishways (Gephard and McMenemy 2004). Programs vary in how they use hatchery products. For example, the Connecticut River program presently prioritizes the stocking of hatchery fry over the stocking of hatchery smolts, whereas the Penobscot River program prioritizes the stocking of hatchery smolts. All programs use all life stages to some degree. Populations for most programs were founded with Penobscot River fish, however, to succeed in the long-term, it will be necessary for the new restoration populations to adapt to the ecosystems of new natal rivers. The Connecticut River program’s emphasis on fry stocking recognizes that fish that are raised in hatcheries until the smolt stage experience only artificial selection within the hatchery until they migrate to sea. Fish that are in hatcheries for only days after hatching will experience minimal artificial selection, followed by natural selection during the one to two years they live in streams. Furthermore, their migration will initiate under natural conditions instead of via a hatchery truck. Natural selection will result in fewer smolts per 100,000 eggs reaching the sea when compared to a hatchery smolt stocking program but the return rate of the smolts originating from fry stocking will be higher than the return rate of the hatchery smolts and, more importantly, the returning fish will be better fit to the Connecticut River ecosystem (Gephard and McMenemy 2004). All animal husbandry programs need to carefully consider how the genetic resources of their populations are managed. This is particularly true for salmon restoration programs in which the numbers of parents are relatively low, the need to maintain wildness over domestication is high, and there are many critical migratory traits that are genetically controlled. The objectives of the Connecticut River’s genetic management program are: (1) preserve all rare alleles, (2) maintain gene diversity within and among year classes, and (3) allow natural selection to act upon all genes. A detailed description of the genetic management of the salmon programs is beyond the scope of this chapter but a few important features of the Connecticut program can be described. First, special care is given to maintaining a minimum effective breeding population of 50 pairs (Gephard and McMenemy 2004). All surviving adults are used in the breeding program without bias against phenotypes (e.g., size, sex, appearance) in an attempt to preserve all uncommon genes within the population. The sex ratio of the spawning population is kept as close to 1:1 as possible and there is no mixing of milt
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prior to introduction into the egg bowls (Allendorf and Ryman 1987, Gephard and McMenemy 2004). To achieve the objectives it is helpful to avoid mating closely-related adults. Prior to the 1990s there was no practical way to identify closely-related spawners so mating was randomized to avoid human bias [“random-blind” per Letcher and King (1999)]. However, since the late 1990s, DNA fingerprinting of broodstock has allowed the typing of each parent prior to the spawning season. This allows the creation of a database that provides a numerical rating of relatedness between a female and all potential mates. Hatchery workers choose a mate for the female based on which male is most distantly related. This “non-random/non-blind” mating scheme reduces the risk of inbreeding, conserves rare alleles, and promotes genetic diversity (Letcher and King 1999, 2001). These practices, first implemented in the Connecticut River program, have since been incorporated into the Maine program. Stocking hatchery-reared smolts allows several methods of marking to help monitor the fish in distant fisheries and evaluate the returns and thus the program. The 160–200 mm long smolts can support dangling numbered tags, brands, tattoos, and internal tags. The fry, only 40 mm long, cannot support these marks. However, DNA fingerprinting has allowed biologists to genetically mark batches of hatchery fry using unique combinations of genes from known parentage (Letcher and King 2001). Program biologists keep track of where and how uniquely-marked genetic batches of fry are stocked. As the smolts depart the river, they can be captured and genetically characterized by snipping a small portion of a fin for DNA analysis. When adult fish return to the fishway traps, they can also have tissue removed for DNA analysis. This genetic marking program was conducted for the first time with Atlantic salmon in the Connecticut River program but is now being used in Maine and elsewhere.
7.4 Recent Developments No program has yet reached its goals. Adult returns to the rivers have been highly variable. Early fluctuations in returns were in part due to the pace of developing suitable hatchery techniques, including managing fish health. Early years were plagued by periodic outbreaks of disease, notably furunculosis (Aeromonas salmonicida) that decimated hatchery populations. The development of effective vaccines and fish health protocols has reduced outbreaks. Generally, returns to restoration rivers increased until the early 1990s, when returns began a precipitous decline (Figure 7.2). This downward trend has not been limited to restoration of U.S. rivers. Atlantic salmon populations from all nations and regions have experienced similar declines (Parrish et al. 1998). This common trend implies to biologists that the cause(s) are marine in origin because the marine environment is what all populations have in common. Research to determine the cause continues and returns to U.S. rivers remain low. A large aquaculture industry for Atlantic salmon began in Norway in the 1980s and soon spread to many other countries, including the United States. All pen-rearing of Atlantic salmon on the U.S. East Coast occurs east of the Penobscot River in Maine. Five of the eight rivers that support remnant runs of native Atlantic salmon flow into the Gulf of Maine in this area. One potential problem is genetic swamping of wild
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Fig. 7.2 Returns of adult Atlantic salmon to U.S. rivers and production of Atlantic salmon by aquaculture in Maine waters, 1965–2005 Source: Adapted from Kocik and Sheehan (2006)
populations when pen-reared salmon escape and enter nearby rivers to spawn (Hansen and Windsor 2006). The pen-reared salmon are a strain created for commercial benefits, not survival in the wild. If these fish interbreed with wild salmon in the rivers, the introgression of poorly adapted genes into the wild population can occur and reduce survival. Another concern is the spread of disease and parasites from high-density rearing pens where they can proliferate to transient wild salmon heading back to natal rivers. This may not be limited to local salmon rivers. In 2007, all salmon captured for broodstock in the Connecticut River program had to be sacrificed when some tested positive to IPN, a dangerous virus. DNA analysis of the virus indicated the strain was identical to that plaguing salmon aquaculture facilities (USASAC, in prep). The only place where Connecticut River fish would have encountered aquaculture facilities would have been in eastern Maine, over 300 km from the Connecticut River. The full impact of Maine aquaculture salmon on wild U.S. salmon is not known but production has increased during the time when wild returns have decreased (Figure 7.2). There are many factors that are known to negatively impact salmon populations including the construction of dams, mortality in hydroelectric turbines, harvest, and acid precipitation. All of these factors have contributed to the long-term decline of salmon in the United States but cannot be implicated in the recent decline since all have diminished in severity or have been mitigated in the last 40 years. Climate change including increases in water temperatures (Gephard and McMenemy 2004) and the presence of endrocrine disruptors (Lerner et al. 2007) are of concern to salmon managers but require more research to document the extent of impact. During the 1990s, the size of the runs of these eight rivers declined to the point where in 2000 the federal fisheries agencies listed the species under the federal Endangered Species Act [ESA] (Dalton and Clark 2000, USFWS 2007). Some Maine rivers have fewer than six fish returning annually and special conservation hatchery programs have been launched to save the runs. The ESA allows the agencies to list specific runs of anadromous fish species if the runs are separate, unique, and at risk. A Distinct Population Segment (DPS) of salmon consisting of runs in the eight small Maine coastal rivers was listed. The runs in the Penobscot, Merrimack, Connecticut,
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and other restoration rivers were not listed, either because genetic information linking them to the DPS were unavailable (Penobscot) or because these populations historically belonged to another DPS that has been extirpated. In the latter case, the restoration populations are based on non-native strains. The listing of the Penobscot River population is currently being re-considered.
7.5 International Efforts The restoration efforts previously described have occurred at the state and federal levels. However, Atlantic salmon migrate through the waters of other nations and international high seas and as problems in the marine environment were recognized, the need for conservation and cooperation at the international level became apparent. The nations around the North Atlantic Ocean that produce or harvest Atlantic salmon signed a treaty to create the North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization (NASCO), which held its first annual meeting in 1983 (NASCO 2007). The first task for NASCO was to negotiate conservation measures for the expanding fishery in West Greenland that intercepted Atlantic salmon from rivers in most countries. The catch at West Greenland has decreased over time (Figure 7.3) due to both a decline in pre-fishery abundance of salmon and the increasingly restrictive catch quota by NASCO. Most oceanic interceptor fisheries for Atlantic salmon have now been closed due to the direct or indirect influence of NASCO. Atlantic salmon populations have not yet recovered in spite of such closures, leading NASCO and others to conclude that other ecological factors at sea are to blame. More research is needed to identify and hopefully reverse the trends.
14000
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Fig. 7.3 Nominal catch of Atlantic salmon in the North Atlantic Ocean, 1960–2006 Source: Based on data from Table 2.1.1.1. in I.C.E.S. (2007)
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7.6 Discussion The restoration of Atlantic salmon to New England rivers began prior to the Endangered Species Act, the modern discipline of conservation biology, and the sense that existing runs of Atlantic salmon needed to be protected. Salmon restoration was an attempt to restore runs of salmon and establish new angling opportunities in large rivers where the runs had been lost. It was a good example of single-species management. Support for the program seems to have waned over time as success seems distant. Many experienced salmon anglers still support the program but other anglers may question the value of the program since a recreational fishery seems far in the future. However, the program has much greater support from conservation groups that recognize the importance of the species to the biodiversity of the region. With the listing of Maine runs in 2000, conservationists see Atlantic salmon as much more than just a sport fish. All harvest of Atlantic salmon in the United States is prohibited and this allows conservationists to focus on other factors limiting populations. Much of the focus has been on habitat that is shared by many other species. Thus, when a fishway is built or a dam removed to benefit Atlantic salmon, many other migratory species such as American shad (Alosa sapidissima) also benefit (Gephard and McMenemy 2004). Although it has long been recognized that the restoration of Atlantic salmon would benefit other species, biologists are increasingly recognizing that the restoration of other diadromous species would benefit Atlantic salmon and the restoration programs. Atlantic salmon co-evolved in the New England rivers with a rich community of diadromous fishes, including American shad, river herring (Alosa spp.), striped bass (Morone saxatilis), sturgeon (Acipenser spp.), sea lamprey (Petromyzon marinus), rainbow smelt (Osmerus mordax) and American eel (Anguilla rostrata). All of these species and others have complex inter-relationships that help define the coastal ecosystem of New England and support the fish community and other non-fish species such as osprey, marine mammals, and terrestrial mammals (Saunders et al. 2007). For example, striped bass feed on river herring and sea lamprey; sea lamprey feed on shad in the ocean; and after spawning, outgoing adult salmon feed on the incoming rainbow smelt prior to departing on their next oceanic migration. Ospreys time their arrival to New England nesting grounds to coincide with the early alewife runs. The salmon restoration programs started out as single-species management but are transforming into multi-species diadromous fish restoration programs. This strategy promises not only to better restore the fisheries resources of New England but also expedite the effort to bring back the Atlantic salmon. Salmon restoration programs and later diadromous fish restoration programs have also encouraged the development of the dam removal movement now growing in the United States. It has been critical to get these fish to upstream spawning habitat and the removal of both large (e.g., Edwards Dam in ME) and small (e.g., Zemko Dam in CT) dams have been promoted to help restore salmon and other diadromous species. Salmon restoration is occurring at a time when conditions at sea are not favorable and in the context of climate change. Re-creating strains of salmon adapted to the ‘restoration rivers’ will take time and re-creating the strains of a neo-boreal species, especially near the southern extent of its range, in the face of global warming amounts to aiming at a moving target. Atlantic salmon have adjusted to the warming and cooling of coastal waters for millennia but the climate changes have been gradual and
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the populations have been natural and genetically diverse. It remains to be seen if the current salmon populations can adapt to rapidly changing climate with anthropogenic origins and if government funds will remain available in a world of competing needs.
References Atkins, C.G. (1874). On the salmon of eastern North America, and its artificial culture. In Report of the Commissioner, for 1872 and 1873, Part II, (pp. 226–335). Washington, DC: U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries, GPO. Allendorf, F.W., & Ryman, N. (1987). Genetic management of hatchery stocks. In N. Ryman & F. Utter (Ed.), Population genetics and fishery management (pp. 141–159). London and Seattle: Washington Sea Grant, Univ. Washington Press. Baum, E.T. (1997). Maine Atlantic salmon- a national treasure. Hermon, Maine: Atlantic Salmon Unlimited. CRASC (Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Commission). (1998). Strategic plan for the restoration of Atlantic salmon to the Connecticut River. Sunderland, Massachusetts: Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Commission. Dalton, P.D. & Clark, J.R. (2000). Endangered and threatened species; final endangered status for a distinct population segment of anadromous Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) in the Gulf of Maine. Final Rule. Federal Register, vol. 65, no. 223. pages 69459–69483. Washington, DC. Gephard, S. & McMenemy, J. (2004). An overview of the program to restore Atlantic salmon and other diadromous fishes to the Connecticut River with notes on the current status of these species in the river. In P.M. Jacobson, D.A. Dixon, W.C. Leggett, B.C. Marcy, Jr., & R.R. Massengill, (Eds.), The Connecticut River ecological study (1965–1973) revisited: ecology of the lower Connecticut River 1973–2003. Monograph 9 (p. 287–317). Bethesda, Maryland: American Fisheries Society. Hansen, L.P. & Windsor, M. (2006). Interactions between aquaculture and wild stocks of Atlantic salmon and other diadromous fish species: science and management, challenges and solutions. Trondheim, Norway. NINA Special Report 34. I.C.E.S. (2007). Extract of the report of the Advisory Committee on Fishery Management, North Atlantic Salmon Stocks, to the North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization (77 pp.). Copenhagen, Denmark: International Council for the Exploration of the Sea. Kocik, J.F. & Sheehan, T.F. (2006). Status of fishery resources off the Northeastern U.S.:Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar). NEFSC- Resource and Assessment Division. www.nefsc.noaa.gov/ sos/spsyn/af/salmon/. Accessed February 25, 2008. Lerner, D.T, Bjornsson, B.T., McCormick, S.D. (2007). Effects of aqueous exposure to polychlorinated biphenyls (Aroclor 1254) on physiology and behavior of smolt development of Atlantic salmon. Aquatic Toxicology, 81, 329–336. Letcher, B.H. & King, T.L. (1999). Targeted stock identification using multilocus genotype ‘familyprinting’. Fisheries Research, 43, 99–111. Letcher, B.H. & King T.L. (2001). Parentage and grandparentage assignment with known and unknown matings: application to Connecticut River Atlantic salmon restoration. Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences, 58, 1812–1821. MacCrimmon, H.R. and Gots B.L. (1979). World distribution of Atlantic salmon, Salmo salar. Journal of the Fisheries Research Board of Canada, 36, 422–257. NASCO. (2007). “About NASCO.” North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization. http://www.nasco. int. Accessed February 25, 2008. Parrish, D. L., Benke, R.J., Gephard S.R., McCormick S.D., Reeves G.H. (1998). Why aren’t there more Atlantic salmon. Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences, 55 (suppl.1), 281–287. Saunders, R., Hachey, M.A., Fay, C.W. (2007). Maine’s diadromous fish community: past, present, and implications for Atlantic salmon recovery. Fisheries, 31, 537–547.
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Scott, W.E. & Crossman, E.J. (1973). Freshwater fishes of Canada. Fisheries Research Board of Canada bulletin 184. Stolte, Lawrence. (1981). The forgotten salmon of the Merrimack. Department of the Interior, Northeast Region. USASAC. (in prep). Annual report of the U.S. Atlantic Salmon Assessment Committee. Report no. 202007 activities. Gloucester, MA: NOAA-Fisheries. USFWS (2007). Endangered species program: Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar). U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service. http://ecos.fws/speciesProfile/speciesReport.do?spcode=E07L. Accessed February 25, 2008. Whitworth, W.R. (1996). Freshwater fishes of Connecticut. Bulletin 114 (second edition). Hartford, Connecticut: CTDEP/State Geological and Natural History Survey of Connecticut.
Part II
Protecting Regional Ecosystems
Chapter 8
Sea Change: Changing Management to Protect Ocean Ecosystems Susan E. Farady
Abstract Ocean ecosystems are increasingly at risk of degradation. Calls have gone out for significant changes to ocean management at the national level by the Pew Oceans Commission and the U.S. Commission on Ocean Policy, and in coastal states such as Massachusetts, California, New York and Washington. The role of marine protected areas within a reformed system of ocean management is a particularly active issue for consideration. An examination of how a current system of marine protected areas, our National Marine Sanctuaries, functions, reveals that these sites may not function effectively to protect marine ecosystems. The Sanctuary Act contains apparently contradictory language regarding sanctuaries as highly protected areas versus areas open to multiple human uses. One part of the Act regarding “compatibility determination” provides a mechanism that sanctuaries could use to better implement ecosystem protection while allowing appropriate levels of human use. The Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary Compatibility Determination Working Group examined this concept and proposed a methodology for potential application within that sanctuary. This methodology provides a way that all sanctuaries could use to establish a clear identity within the evolving new system of management to better protect ocean ecosystems. “The human race is challenged more than ever before to demonstrate our mastery - not over nature but of ourselves.” – Rachel Carson, Silent Spring, 1962.
8.1 Introduction In many ways, ocean management is the last canary in the coal mine of U.S. environmental issues. Terrestrial environmental awareness has become part of our modern culture throughout the 20th century beginning with leaders such as John Muir and Gifford Pinchot. Laws such as the Clean Air Act and the Wilderness Act were passed in 1963 and 1964, respectively, and a full-blown public awareness of environmental issues emerged in the 1970s, producing not only a federal and state framework of laws relating to water quality, endangered species and hazardous waste but also a broad general understanding of the need for terrestrial environmental protection. In contrast, awareness of the need for ocean protection has arisen in piecemeal fashion over this same period of time. The Stratton Commission in 1969 laid out a thorough plan for comprehensive ocean and coastal management, but implementation was selective and R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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limited. Since then, a disparate and fractured assemblage of law and policy pertaining to specific issues such as marine mammal protection or commercial fishery management have been enacted, without a comprehensive focus on oceans as ecosystems. We are in a remarkable situation at the turn of the century as ocean ecosystems have been identified as at risk, and efforts are underway to articulate the appropriate laws and policies to protect them. Ocean ecosystems present a uniquely challenging set of characteristics related to management as compared to terrestrial ecosystems. Oceans are public resources, and one cannot readily “own” a piece of the ocean as one can terrestrial property. Marine environments are remote three-dimensional environments, hostile to human habitation, with resources as well as degradation largely removed from our view and understanding compared to terrestrial environments. There is no common public understanding about ocean environments. Whereas we all live on land and learn some consistent information about terrestrial environments and sites such as national parks in school, many people do not have access to the ocean and oceans are not necessarily part of a general ecology curriculum. In fact, one’s understanding of and relationship to the ocean environment tends to be quite personal. An individual may never have seen the ocean or, alternatively, may vacation there regularly. Experiences vary whether one is a beachgoer, fisherman, surfer, boater, or tanker captain, and emotional reactions range from perceiving the ocean as a place of romantic tranquility to one of fearsome threats akin to “Jaws” or “The Perfect Storm.” Regardless of our individual values, understanding of or interest in marine ecosystems, it has become unambiguously clear that our oceans are in trouble; we have much to lose and we need to act. In 2003, the Pew Oceans Commission, formed by the Environment Group of the Pew Charitable Trusts, released its report, and the U.S. Commission on Ocean Policy, formed by Congress as a result of the passage of the Oceans Act, followed suit in 2004; the Joint Ocean Commission Initiative was formed in 2005 to continue to promote implementation of these two reports.1 These two Commissions examined American ocean policy for the first time since the Stratton Commission’s work in 1969 and despite their different origins, reached similar conclusions.2 Specifically: our oceans are showing increasing signs of degradation such as reduced fish landings, habitat loss, and poor water quality; our human imprint is ever increasing as more and more of us live on the coast, our interest in offshore industries increases, and our technological ability grows; and our ocean governance system is fragmented and piecemeal, incapable of responding effectively to current and future management challenges, and needs to become more comprehensive and ecosystem-based. In response to these calls for changes in ocean management, there are several initiatives at the state and federal level that could affect the future framework of ocean management. Congress is currently considering “Oceans 21,” a bill designed to implement many of the U.S. Commission’s recommendations, introduced by Congressman Sam Farr and sponsored by other members of the House Oceans Caucus, and the “NOAA Organic Act” to establish the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s authority in legislation.3 The California Ocean Protection Act, passed in 2004, established California’s Ocean Protection Council to “help coordinate and improve the protection and management of California’s ocean and coastal resources and implement the Governor’s ‘Ocean Action Plan’ released in October 2004.”4 In 2006, New York
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passed the New York Ocean and Great Lakes Ecosystem Conservation Act, which authorizes the formation of a nine-member council with members from different state agencies to develop a state oceans policy by 2008.5 The Massachusetts Oceans Act was first introduced in 2004 following the work of the Massachusetts Ocean Management Task Force, and was enacted in 2008; this law requires the development of a comprehensive plan by 2009 to guide management decisions in state waters.6 Maine state agencies completed a two-year study of their nearshore waters in 2007, with recommendations for increased agency coordination and integrated management; the legislature passed a resolution and the governor signed an Executive Order supporting implementation of the recommendations of this study.7
8.2 The Role of Marine Protected Areas in Better Ocean Management When considering how a new system of ocean governance should work, it is important to examine how the present system functions and could fit into a new regime. One active area of consideration for improved ocean management is the role of marine protected areas or “MPAs.” The role of MPAs in improved ocean management was raised by the Pew Oceans Commission in 2003, the U.S. Commission on Ocean Policy in 2004, the Massachusetts Ocean Management Task Force in 2004 and the California Ocean Protection Council.8 Additionally, MPAs were the focus of an Executive Order issued by President Clinton in 2000, the California Marine Life Protection Act passed in 1999, and recent initiatives by regional, national and international nonprofit organizations.9 MPAs are part of the current ocean management discussion because in comparison to terrestrial protected areas, the use of MPAs is less accepted, and MPAs are not consistently utilized by managers to achieve clearly-defined conservation objectives. Americans are accustomed to the idea that certain natural areas on land are more restrictively managed than other areas in order to protect unique habitat, wildlife, or natural features. Terrestrial protected areas such as parks and refuges that restrict human activity were established in the United States during the last century to protect ecosystems, natural beauty, and native species in large part because of concerns regarding the rapid loss of terrestrial wilderness as the country expanded. The public generally accepts these terrestrial protected areas and accompanying restrictions on human activities within them.10 In comparison, despite growing concerns about the state of ocean ecosystems, the use of protected areas has not translated well to the marine environment, and we have a less sophisticated regime of protected areas in the ocean than on land.11 Marine protected areas (“MPAs”) in the United States tend to be established in an ad hoc fashion in response to various resource issues, such as fishery stock declines or proposed industrial uses, and are administered by various agencies with different, and sometimes contradictory or conflicting, management goals.12 The range of protections available within MPAs varies widely and is often quite controversial; many areas of the ocean lack protection of any kind.13 The act of drawing a boundary around an area and designating it as a particular kind of protected area, a wildlife refuge, for example, implies a heightened level of protec-
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tion for that area because it is a unique location for wildlife. A key threshold question regarding management of such areas is what activities are allowed within them. Restrictions on human activities generally reflect larger management goals regarding necessary resource protection and appropriate levels of human access for different types of protected areas. For example, a national park with paved roads, parking lots and campsites allows a wider range of human activities and impact upon resources compared to a remote wilderness area with sensitive habitat where all motor vehicles are prohibited and only primitive camping is allowed. In the marine environment, this question of what kinds of activities are allowed in protected areas often prompts vigorous debate. Within one type of MPA, National Marine Sanctuaries, this question emerges as a central part of how these sites are managed.
8.3 An Example of an MPA Program: National Marine Sanctuaries Since 1972, the National Marine Sanctuaries Act has provided the basis for designating discrete areas of the ocean as National Marine Sanctuaries.14 The name “sanctuary” colloquially connotes an area of high protection, yet the Sanctuaries Act does not require strict protection and in fact contains conflicting language about whether sanctuaries are intended to be highly protective of all resources or multiple use areas.15 In application, the Act has frequently been used as a prophylactic measure to halt activities deemed undesirable such as oil drilling or gravel mining, or to protect particular features such as shipwrecks while expressly not limiting activities that could harm the ecosystem surrounding that feature. The end result is that sanctuaries often do not provide high levels of resource protection and are not necessarily expected to. However in the post-Pew and U.S. Ocean Commission era, National Marine Sanctuaries could function as an important example of a comprehensive ecosystem-based management approach. The Sanctuaries Act is currently the only ocean-related law that encompasses all aspects of the marine ecosystem as opposed to other laws that deal with particular parts of the ecosystem or certain activities. As we grapple with how to better manage the marine environment, the role of Sanctuaries within a comprehensive ocean management scheme will become increasingly important. It is worth considering how these sites function when contemplating the bigger question of how ocean ecosystem management should change. An initial examination of the Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act16 is necessary in order to understand why “sanctuary” in name does not always mean “sanctuary” in application. The Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act was passed in 1972 to prevent “unregulated dumping of material into ocean waters” that endanger “human health, welfare, and amenities, and the marine environment, ecological systems, and economic potentialities.” 17 This Act also included Title III, which later became the National Marine Sanctuaries Act (hereinafter the “Sanctuaries Act” or “Act”). Both the Secretary of the Department of Commerce and the U.S. Congress have the authority under the Sanctuaries Act to set aside discrete areas of the marine environment as national marine sanctuaries to promote comprehensive management of their special conservation, recreational, ecological, historical, research, educational, or aesthetic resources.18 In 1975, the nation’s first marine sanctuary was created to preserve the wreckage of the USS Monitor, a Civil War vessel off the coast of North Carolina.19
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Over the past thirty-one years, twelve additional marine sanctuaries and a national monument have been added to form the National Marine Sanctuary System, which encompasses more than 150,000 square miles of marine and Great Lakes waters, and spans from Washington State to the Florida Keys, and from Lake Huron to American Samoa.20 The name “sanctuary” suggests that these sites are highly protected and that human activities within them are limited. In fact, the dictionary defines “sanctuary” as “a consecrated place . . .for worship” and also as “a place of refuge and protection; a refuge for wildlife where predators are controlled and hunting is illegal.”21 However, the Sanctuaries Act contains two other broad purposes in addition to protection: one, enhancing public awareness, understanding, appreciation, and wise use of the marine environment, and two, encouraging multiple human uses of sanctuary resources.22 According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the main goal of a sanctuary is “to protect its natural and cultural features while allowing people to use and enjoy the ocean in a sustainable way.”23 This objective is contradictory in calling for resource protection while simultaneously allowing sustainable uses of those same resources, and one may question how it is possible to always do both. In fact, the conservation effectiveness of sanctuaries is seriously in question. A recent report analyzing MPAs in the U.S. Gulf of Maine region found that current closed areas (where the use of fishing gear capable of catching certain overfished species is prohibited) implemented to aid struggling groundfish stocks under fishery management authority were providing more overall protection to the marine environment than the region’s only national marine sanctuary site, which arguably has a broader protective purpose.24 Yet sanctuary sites around the country are demonstrating their ability to implement innovative comprehensive management approaches, despite much controversy, particularly regarding the specific question of how fisheries should be regulated within sanctuaries.25 For example, in the past decade, the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary has established marine protected areas with different levels of protection including no-take reserves, and the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary off southern California is working to establish a network of no-take reserves.26 In New England, Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary responded to public concerns about the sanctuary’s biodiversity and resources by convening stakeholder “working groups” to examine and define “ecosystem-based management” within the sanctuary and study the use of various types of zones to implement ecosystem-based sanctuary management.27 The results of these efforts could significantly change how the sanctuary is managed by implementing different management techniques, including highly-restricted or no-take zones.
8.4 Tension Between Use and Protection: What Can You Do in a Sanctuary? As individual sanctuary sites consider their use of different types of closed areas or zoning schemes to increase ecosystem protection and whether human activities should be limited or even prohibited within any part of a sanctuary boundary, a broader question emerges regarding the inherent identity of sanctuaries. Are
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sanctuaries intended to be highly protected areas allowing few human activities? Are they intended to be open multiple use areas with few restrictions? Or are they something in between? The lengthy legislative history of the Sanctuaries Act illustrates years of debate over whether the Act’s purpose is protective or multiple use, and the plain language of the statute itself illustrates the tension between these purposes.28 Statements including both conservation and use are found in the “findings” section of the Act, such as “national marine sanctuaries . . .will . . .improve the conservation, understanding, management and wise and sustainable use of marine resources” and will “maintain for future generations the habitat, and ecological services of the natural assemblage of living resources that inhabit the area.”29 The Act’s “purposes and policies” section similarly contains statements of sanctuary purposes as both protection of natural resources and human access to those resources, such as “ . . to maintain the natural biological communities in the national marine sanctuaries, and to protect, and, where appropriate, restore and enhance natural habitats, populations and ecological processes” and “to enhance public awareness . . .and wise and sustainable use of the marine environment.”30 One provision of the “purposes and policies” section of the Sanctuaries Act succinctly captures the tension between a preservation mandate and a multiple use purpose: “[T]o facilitate to the extent compatible with the primary objective of resource protection, all public and private uses of the resources of these marine areas not prohibited pursuant to other authorities.”31 This statement is unambiguous in articulating a sanctuary’s ‘primary purpose’ is resource protection. Yet coupled with the requirement that all public and private uses be facilitated in ways that are compatible with that purpose, the statute now appears somewhat contradictory.32 This “compatibility” language raises a range of management questions that go to the heart of how sanctuary resources are to be simultaneously protected and used. Sanctuary managers must consider how to determine if a human activity is part of ‘wise and sustainable use of the marine environment’ or if it threatens a sanctuary’s habitat and ecological processes and is thus, incompatible with the ‘primary purpose’ of resource protection. Management decisions include how to determine whether a proposed new use is ‘compatible;’ when an increased level of current use becomes ‘incompatible;’ how to limit uses in response to declining resource conditions; and in any given determination, how to make these decisions in a credible, informed, and transparent way that managers and the public can clearly understand.
8.5 Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary Examines ‘Compatibility Determination’ One sanctuary recently undertook an examination of how the compatibility language in the Sanctuaries Act could be interpreted and applied in management decisions in the course of reviewing its management plan (such reviews of each sanctuary’s entire management plan are required by the Sanctuaries Act every five years).33 The Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary (hereinafter “SBNMS”), located off the Massachusetts coast, solicited public comments on management issues and used these comments to develop recommendations for changes in site management (Figure 8.1). In addition to marine mammal protection, ecosystem alteration and water quality, the
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Fig. 8.1 Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary. Source: NOAA
public commented on the compatibility determination language in the Sanctuaries Act and how it applies to SBNMS’s management. Many comments stated that the sanctuary’s primary objective is resource protection, that human uses must be conducted within the context of that objective, and raised issues regarding human use impacts on sanctuary resources. Commenters also stated that the sanctuary needed some method to assess the risks to resources caused by “human uses and their cumulative impacts,” and that such a method should be in accord with the sanctuary’s vision and mission.34 The SBNMS citizen Sanctuary Advisory Council then formed several working groups, chaired by Advisory Council members and consisting of representative stakeholders from the SBNMS community, to provide the sanctuary with advice on how to address the issues raised by the public regarding future management. The Compatibility Determination Working Group (hereinafter “CDWG”) was comprised of representatives from shipping, fishing, and whale watching industries, conservation organizations, and federal agencies, as well as academic experts on marine policy, law, and economics (Figure 8.2). The CDWG met five times over the course of four months in 2005, and worked to achieve all decisions by consensus. As with all other SBNMS stakeholder working groups, the CDWG’s final recommendations were submitted to the entire Sanctuary Advisory Council for its review and vote, and then
Fig. 8.2 Tanker and whales in Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary Source: SBNMS (taken under NOAA Fisheries Permit #981-1707-0)
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submitted to the sanctuary superintendent for his consideration in drafting the new management plan. In consultation with sanctuary staff, the CDWG first determined that the scope of its work should not include any determination of whether a specific use, current or future, was or was not ‘compatible’ in the sanctuary. Rather, what was most needed was a method for the sanctuary to use to make such determinations. Thus, at the first meeting, the CDWG adopted this goal statement: “To develop a framework to assess and evaluate whether existing or proposed human uses are compatible with the sanctuary’s primary objective of resource protection[.]”35 The CDWG then reviewed the current status of compatibility determinations within the National Marine Sanctuary Program (hereinafter “NMSP”) and other types of protected area programs. Currently in the NMSP, there are “no system-wide standards or framework to determine whether or not a use should be allowed if it has not already been categorically prohibited or restricted.”36 The compatibility of uses at sanctuaries is determined on a case-by-case basis, using mechanisms such as Congress’s prohibition of activities during site designation or by other ruling; a site’s Designation Document; site-specific regulations; and the ability of a site with NMSP oversight to issue permits for specific activities.37 In contrast, other types of protected areas utilize more fully developed methodologies for determining compatible activities within their boundaries. One process used by many agencies such as the U.S. National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and the Saba Conservation Foundation, is called “Limits of Acceptable Change” (hereinafter “LAC”). LAC was developed in the 1980 by the U.S. Forest Service as a tool to manage recreational uses and set standards for acceptable resource and social conditions in recreational areas, as opposed to methods of determining “carrying capacity” by deciding “how many is too many.”38 The carrying capacity approach proved cumbersome for managers because natural resources are rarely impacted through straightforward cause-and-effect relationships, and attempting to determine a single number delineating an appropriate level of use out of the context of overall desired conditions proved difficult.39 The LAC concept is based on accepting the fact that change is an inevitable result of use; instead of asking “how much use is too much,” a manager using an LAC approach asks “how much change in conditions is acceptable.”40 The LAC process works to resolve competing or conflicting management goals, such as recreational access and resource protection, by first determining what the “acceptable” conditions are in a site, then analyzing how management actions can be used to achieve or maintain those conditions. For example, in a terrestrial site such as a national wilderness area, the ideal conditions could be maintaining sufficient natural resource protection while accommodating wilderness recreational activities. Related management actions could be adjusting the number of campsites based upon the sensitivity of habitats and the proximity of campsites to each other.41 In a tropical MPA, such as Saba Marine Park in the Caribbean, the desired conditions could be maintaining healthy coral reefs while providing recreational diver access. Concerns about coral damage caused by divers could then lead to management actions regarding diver buoyancy control.42 The CDWG also examined specifically how one federal agency makes compatibility determinations. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has a well-established compatibility determination procedure to determine appropriate uses and levels of use
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within National Wildlife Refuges. This procedure is grounded in the Refuge System’s governing laws and regulations, which states that wildlife protection comes first and defines which wildlife-dependent public uses are allowed (other uses are generally prohibited unless specifically permitted by the refuge manager). The Refuge System’s laws and regulations also define compatible use as ‘a proposed or existing wildlifedependent recreational use or any other use of a national wildlife refuge that, based on sound professional judgment, will not materially interfere with or detract from the fulfillment of the [Refuge System’s] mission or the purpose of the national wildlife refuge.’43 When a use is proposed for a particular refuge, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service uses a series of dichotomous steps to arrive at a compatibility determination by asking questions such as, “[d]oes the use conflict with any refuge goal or objective? [If] yes – use is denied; [if] no – go to [next] step.”44 The CDWG then considered the applicability of both the LAC concept and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s approach to sanctuary management. The group found that LAC provided a broad, conceptual means to develop a clear, justifiable process for making compatible use decisions. The group noted, however, that some of LAC’s assumptions regarding the inevitability of impact from use may not apply to SBNMS where the management goal to protect or restore resources or ecological systems could require a strict limitation on use, such that no impacts from use are experienced.45 Similarly, the group found that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s compatibility determination process provided a more formulaic approach than LAC, and the question-answer screening tool could be useful to SBNMS, but noted significant differences between the Refuge System and national marine sanctuaries. For example, the Refuge System compatibility determination protocol was developed based on specific legislative language, regulatory definitions, and court decisions that clarified the purpose of refuges, the types of appropriate uses contemplated, and articulated a compatibility determination process to follow. Refuges are presumed “closed to uses, unless specifically opened,” and are terrestrial sites owned in fee simple by the government.46 In contrast, there is little guidance in the Sanctuaries Act, regulations, or other applicable authority, to clarify the protection-use tension inherent in that law’s compatibility language. Sanctuaries are presumed open to use unless activities are specifically limited by regulations or a site’s designation document, and are held by the government as trustee of these public trust resources comprised of submerged public lands and the water column above.47 The CDWG then reviewed the relevant legal authority that could provide information on how to construct a “compatibility determination framework” for SBNMS.48 After examining both the LAC concept and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service process, it became clear to the group that any methodology for SBNMS needed to be based on the guidance provided by existing legal authority regarding SBNMS’s purpose and the types of uses contemplated within its boundaries.49 The group reviewed the Sanctuaries Act, “implementing regulations applicable to all sanctuaries as well as [regulations] specific to [SBNMS], the SBNMS designation document, and the current 1993 Management Plan.”50 These sources revealed numerous references to resource protection as well as use; certain uses that are considered per se ‘incompatible’51 in the sanctuary such as industrial extraction of materials such as gravel or oil and gas; and certain uses that are currently not listed as subject to sanctuary regulation, such as fishing, and hence not limited.52
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8.6 Conclusions of the Stellwagen Compatibility Determination Working Group The CDWG developed and approved by consensus an Action Plan which documented its deliberations and included its proposal for a framework that could be used at SBNMS, calling it ‘S-CAP’ (Sanctuary Compatibility Analysis Process).53 The group found that the sanctuary needs a hierarchal process to determine compatible uses similar to applications of LAC theory by different agencies or the method used by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, i.e., a process where the site’s overarching ‘vision’ or ‘mission’ flows down into more specific management goals and objectives.54 Such a hierarchal structure provides a firm basis for managers to analyze and determine whether a use is compatible with the site’s vision, mission, and management goals and objectives.55 The CDWG also noted that S-CAP should be grounded in existing authority, and should clearly state the roles of management and the public as well as provide opportunities for public participation.56 To illustrate how S-CAP would assist the sanctuary in determining compatible uses, a hypothetical new use in the sanctuary (jet ski operation) and its effect on the sanctuary’s marine mammal populations was considered: Issue: Do jet skis in the sanctuary harm whales? Is it a use compatible with site’s purpose? Vision: Healthy animal populations Mission: Resource protection Goal: Protect assemblages of marine mammals Objective: To strengthen the protection of marine mammals by assessing and minimizing behavioral disturbance including vessel strikes to marine mammals, and by fostering cooperation with cross-jurisdictional partners that affects marine mammals. Standard: Marine mammal behavior is not altered nor are they struck by vessels Indicators that standard is being achieved:
r r r r
No marine mammals are struck by jet skis No change in marine mammal distribution due to jet skis Surface-to-dive time ratio for marine mammals is within normal range and unaffected by jet skis Marine mammal communication is unimpeded by jet ski noise.57
By utilizing clearly articulated vision, mission and goal statements and accompanying indicators to assess the impact of jet skis on marine mammals, the sanctuary could make a decision about this use in a transparent and defensible manner. The public could then readily understand the sanctuary’s basis for their decision, whether the end result is banning jet skis altogether, limiting numbers of jet skis, restricting their use to certain times or locations, or allowing unlimited use. The CDWG concluded that in order to effectively develop S-CAP, “it is critical that SBNMS’s overarching vision be clearly defined as soon as possible” and included in the draft management plan so the public has an opportunity to comment on it.58 To enable stakeholder acceptance of the compatibility process, the CDWG called on both sanctuary managers and stakeholders to participate in developing a vision.59 No public discussion of the sanctuary’s vision has been held since the initial hearings for the
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site’s designation in 1991, which focused primarily on preventing proposed offshore gravel mining and casino activities. The CDWG’s Action Plan was unanimously approved by the Stellwagen Sanctuary Advisory Council and then passed on to the sanctuary for inclusion in the Draft Management Plan (released in spring, 2008 for public comment). One month after the acceptance of the action plan, the Advisory Council held a daylong facilitated meeting in July 2005 to determine a vision statement for the sanctuary. This statement, unanimously approved by the Council, will be included in the Draft Management Plan for public comment: The Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary is teeming with a great diversity and abundance of marine plants and animals supported by diverse, healthy habitats in clean ocean waters. The ecological integrity of the Sanctuary is protected and fully restored for current and future generations. Human uses are diverse and compatible with maintaining natural and cultural resources.60
8.7 Conclusions The future health of marine ecosystems is at a crossroads as we scramble to make our fractured, inadequate management systems more responsive to increasing human impacts within a complex environment. There is little question that better management of our ocean and coastal resources will remain an urgent concern in the foreseeable future. As our interest in using ocean resources and our access to them increases, management needs correspondingly increase both in number and complexity. From state to regional to federal initiatives, there is broad agreement that a shift towards ecosystembased management is needed for the long-term health of our oceans, although how to implement such a management approach is yet to be determined. MPAs such as our national marine sanctuaries have an important role in improved, sustainable management of coastal and marine resources, but incorporating sanctuaries in the larger move towards ecosystem-based management of coastal and ocean ecosystems will remain difficult as long as the essential identity of these sites is not clearly defined and generally understood. The identity of a protected area is for many stakeholders encapsulated in the basic questions triggered by a protected area boundary. For the public, the question is, what can I do there? For the manager, the question is, what should be allowed and how much of it? The Sanctuaries Act is one of many federal statutes that establish MPAs. While other laws focus on specific activities or species, such as commercial fishing or marine mammals, the Sanctuaries Act is the only one mandating protection of all resources within its boundaries. However, the Act contains many features that have made it difficult to apply; such difficulties will only continue in movements toward a revised system of ecosystem-based management. The Act’s conflicting language regarding simultaneous protection and use of sanctuary resources reflects its contentious legislative history. The Act itself may never be amended to state more definitively the legislative purpose of these sites. Yet the “compatibility” language of the Act provides an immediate means to clarify what can take place in sanctuaries and establish a firmer identity for these ocean places. The Stellwagen CDWG’s work examining this language and how it should be
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applied illustrates key techniques for future management of national marine sanctuaries and other types of marine protected areas. First, the current ad hoc means of compatibility determination used by sanctuaries only reinforces the lack of a clear vision and understanding by the public regarding what a sanctuary is supposed to be. Second, well-established methods utilized by other agencies (such as LAC or the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Refuge System) to make compatibility determinations can be considered for their applicability to the marine environment and sanctuaries. Third, a clear articulation of the purpose or “vision” of a sanctuary grounded in legal authority is a required component in any method to determine compatible uses. Additionally, the process of determining a sanctuary’s vision is an excellent means to engage stakeholders in sanctuary management outside of sectarian debates. Finally, the sanctuary system should consider developing system-wide guidance for compatibility determination at all sites or, alternatively, a protocol that individual sites can utilize in developing their own compatibility determination methods so the role of sanctuaries is consistent among marine protected areas and within evolving management of ocean resources. It is broadly acknowledged that effective management of MPAs is an important key to their success in a natural resource management regime. Sanctuaries can be more effectively managed, and public acceptance and understanding of these sites enhanced, by focused utilization of the “compatibility” portion of the Sanctuaries Act to clearly articulate appropriate public uses of sanctuary resources. How we revise management will continue to evolve, via existing schemes such as the National Sanctuary System or through new federal and state initiatives. The overarching challenge of ocean management before us is as Rachel Carson presciently noted decades earlier, not in our ability to master ocean resources, but rather to master ourselves.
Notes 1. Pew Oceans Comm’n, America’s Living Oceans: Charting a Course for Sea Change, (2003) http://www.pewoceans.org/; U.S. Comm’n on Ocean Policy, An Ocean Blueprint for the 21st Century, (2004) http://www.oceancommission.gov/; http://www.jointoceancommission.org/ 2. http://www.lib.noaa.gov/edocs/stratton/contents.html 3. http://www.ens-newswire.com/ens/jan2007/2007-01-04-04.asp; http://www.publicaffairs.noaa. gov/releases2005/apr05/noaa05-037.html; http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c109:H.R.5450: 4. http://resources.ca.gov/copc/ 5. http://www.nrdc.org/media/pressreleases/060623.asp 6. http://www.mass.gov/czm/oceanmanagement/oceans act/index.htm 7. http://www.maine.gov/dmr/baystudy/baystudy.htm; http://www.maine.gov/tools/whatsnew/index. php?topic=Gov Executive Orders&id=35856&v=Article 8. See generally Pew Oceans Comm’n, America’s Living Oceans: Charting a Course for Sea Change, (2003); U.S. Comm’n on Ocean Policy, An Ocean Blueprint for the 21st Century, (2004); Mass. Ocean Mgmt. Task Force, Waves of Change (2004); California Ocean Protection Council, http://resources.ca.gov/copc/ (last visited Nov. 12, 2007). 9. See generally Exec. Order 13,158, 65 Fed. Reg. 34,909 (May 26, 2000); California Marine Life Protection Act Initiative, http://www.dfg.ca.gov/MRD/mlpa/ (last visited Sept.12, 2006); Recchia & Farady et al., supra note 4; Atkinson et al., supra note 3; Conservation Law Foundation & World Wildlife Fund-Canada, Marine Ecosystem Conservation for New England and Maritime Canada: A Science-Based Approach to the Identification of Priority Areas for Conservation (2006), available at http://www.clf.org/oceanconservation.
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10. See Ocean Studies Board, National Research Council, Marine Protected Areas: Tools for Sustaining Ocean Ecosystems 11 (2001). 11. Id. 12. See Jennifer Atkinson et al., Conservation Law Foundation, The Wild Sea: Saving Our Marine Heritage, 57–58 (2000). 13. Ocean Studies Board, supra note 1, at 151–52; Cheri Recchia & Susan Farady et al., The Ocean Conservancy, Marine and Coastal Protected Areas in the United States Gulf of Maine Region 9 (2001). 14. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, About Your National Marine Sanctuaries: History, http://www.sanctuaries.nos.noaa.gov/about/history/welcome.html 15. “Sanctuary: a consecrated place . . .for worship . . .a place of refuge and protection; a refuge for wildlife where predators are controlled and hunting is illegal.” Merriam-Webs ter Online Dictionary, http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/sanctuary; Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act, 16 U.S.C. §1401–1445 (1972). 16. Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act, 33 U.S.C. §§1401–1445 (1972). 17. Id. at §1401(a) (1972). 18. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, About Your National Marine Sanctuaries: History, http://www.sanctuaries.nos.noaa.gov/about/history/welcome.html, (last visited Sept. 15, 2006). 19. Id. 20. Id. 21. Merriam-Webs ter Online Dictionary, http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/sanctuary (last visited Nov. 12, 2007). 22. Center for Economy and the Environment, Protecting Our National Marine Sanctuaries, 9 (2000). 23. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, About Your National Marine Sanctuaries, Frequently Asked Questions, http://www.sanctuaries.nos.noaa.gov/about/faqs/welcome.html (last visited Sept. 22, 2006). 24. Recchia & Farady et al., supra note 4, at 68. 25. See Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary, Tortugas Ecological Reserve, http://floridakeys. noaa.gov/tortugas/welcome.html (last visited Nov. 12, 2007); Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, Marine Reserves, http://channelislands.noaa.gov/marineres/main.html (last visited Nov. 12, 2007); Jeffrey Zinn and Eugene H. Buck, Marine Protected Areas: An Overview, CRS Report for Congres s (Feb. 8, 2001), http://ncseonline.org/NLE/CRSreports/Marine/mar39.cfm?&CFID=5609203&CFTOKEN=46106595 (last visited Nov. 12, 2007). 26. http://floridakeys.noaa.gov/resource protection/welcome.html#zoning; http://channelislands. noaa.gov/marineres/main.html 27. “Ecosystem-Based Sanctuary Management (EBSM) integrates knowledge of ecological interrelationships to manage impacts within sanctuary boundaries. The general goal of EBSM is to protect the ecological integrity of the SBNMS while recognizing that the sanctuary is nested within GOM large marine ecosystem. Effective implementation of EBSM should: (1) consider ecological processes that operate both inside and outside sanctuary boundaries, (2) recognize the importance of species and habitat diversity, and (3) accommodate human uses and associated benefits within the context of conservation requirements.” http://stellwagen.noaa.gov/management/workinggroups/zoningwg.html 28. William Chandler & Hannah Gillelan, The History and Evolution of the National Marine Sanctuaries Act, 34 ELR 10505, 10509 (2004). 29. 16 U.S.C. §1431(a) (2006) (emphasis added). 30. Id. at §1431(b) (emphasis added). 31. Id. at §1431(b)(6) (emphasis added). 32. Chandler and Gillelan, supra note 17, at 10506. 33. Sanctuaries Act, supra note 16, §1434(e). 34. Gerry E. Studds Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, Compatibility Determination Action Plan, CD-1, (June 9, 2005), available at http://www.sbnms.nos.noaa.gov/management/ workinggroups/wgpdf/CD AP 06 01 2005.pdf. Note: The work of this Working Group and the resultant Action Plan will be incorporated throughout this Article, primarily derived from the
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35. 36. 37. 38. 39.
40. 41. 42.
43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.
S. E. Farady Author’s participation chairing the group and drafting the Action Plan. Citations to the Plan are not utilized for the author’s first-hand account of the Group’s process. The Plan is cited when referring to specific content and to credit other work incorporated within the Plan. Id. at CD-2. Id., Appendix 1 at CD-12. Id. at CD-12-14. Id. at CD-15-16. George H. Stankey, Stephen F. McCool & Gerald L. Stokes, Limits of Acceptable Change: A New Framework for Managing the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex (1984), available at http://www.cfc.umt.edu/academics/Courses/Capstone/Syllabi/RECM%20485/stankey%20 and%20others.doc. Id. at 24. Gerry E. Studds Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, supra note 23 at CD-24 to -25. Assessing the Carrying Capacity of MPAs: How Many Visitors Can Your MPA Hold?, 6 MPA News (2004), http://depts.washington.edu/mpanews/MPA55.htm (last visited Nov. 12, 2007). Gerry E. Studds Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, supra note 23, at CD-17 (citing 65 Fed. Reg. 62486. Oct. 18, 2000). Id. at CD-18. Id. at CD-3. Id. at CD-3 to -4. Id. Id. at CD-4. Id. Id. Id Id. at Appendix III, CD-27 to -29. Id. at CD-5. Id. at CD-4 to -5. Id. at CD-5. Id. Id. at CD-8. Id. at CD-5. Id. SBNMS 16th Sanctuary Advisory Council. Meeting Minutes, 18 (July 11, 2005), available at http://stellwagen.noaa.gov/management/sac/16th SAC Meeting.pdf.
Chapter 9
Valuing Benefits from Ecosystem Improvements using Stated Preference Methods: An Example from Reducing Acidification in the Adirondacks Park David A. Evans, H. Spencer Banzhaf, Dallas Burtraw, Alan J. Krupnick and Juha Siikam¨aki†
Abstract Economists often use people’s actions and choices to identify priorities for managing and protecting nature and for determining whether the benefit of a particular activity is greater than its cost. However, the desire to protect and improve ecological resources is not entirely revealed by people’s actions, but also reflects an intrinsic value that people place on the resource. This problem has given rise to the development of stated preference survey methods for eliciting monetized values for improving or protecting nature. We provide an introduction to stated preference methods and explain why economists feel that they are useful for government decision making. To provide context for this discussion, we describe a stated preference survey application that estimated the value of reducing acidification in the Adirondacks Park.
9.1 Introduction The economic approach to the evaluation of policies that affect the quality of ecological resources involves an analysis of the monetized benefits and cost of these policies. However, the benefits that ecological resources provide are not always revealed by the behavior of the general public through the use or direct enjoyment of resources. We use the term “nonuse value” to describe the value that the general public places on the existence of resources even when they do not plan to directly use or experience the resources now or in the future. When such nonuse values for protecting the environment are present they will not be revealed through observed behavior (revealed preference), so economists use stated preference methods to estimate these additional benefits of protecting the environment. In this chapter we introduce two common stated preference techniques and we describe some complications and controversies associated with stated preference methods. In the later half of the chapter we describe an application of stated preference methods to the valuation of ecological improvements from reduced acid deposition in the Adirondacks Park in New York State. We conclude with a discussion of some extensions to the Adirondacks study and some lessons learned from this study for the main issues addressed in this book. R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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9.2 An Introduction to Stated Preference Methods 9.2.1 The Benefit-Cost Paradigm Economists suppose that people and firms spend resources on items whose prices are less than the benefits that they receive. Even for goods generally not purchased through markets, like outdoor recreational activities, expenditures of time and money reveal a component of the value of these goods to the individuals who enjoy them. Similarly, producers provide goods or services whose prices are greater than the expenses required to produce them. Taking all of these decisions by suppliers and demanders into account, market prices implicitly reveal how much buyers and sellers collectively value the last unit of each good or service provided. In the exchange of any commodity, the market’s valuation of the last unit of the good is equal to the cost of providing that unit. As a consequence, prices reveal information about the desirability of individual goods, their scarcity, and the availability of resources and technologies to produce them. The economic benefit to producers of goods and services equals the difference between the price they receive for the goods (i.e., revenues) and their production expenses. This benefit is called profit or producer surplus. For consumers, the analogue of producer surplus is consumer surplus, which is the difference between what an individual would be willing to pay for the amount of the good she consumes and the price she actually pays. Total surplus is the sum of consumer and producer surplus. The total surplus yielded by a particular amount of a good produced is thus equal to the difference between the consumers’ total willingness to pay for that amount and the cost to produce that amount. Total surplus equals the net benefits to society of the market’s level of production as long as the consumption or production of the marketed good does not cause benefits or harms that are not accounted for in prices.1 Under these conditions, the total willingness to pay for the amount of the good produced equals the social benefit of that amount while the cost of producing that amount equals the social cost. The social net benefit equals the social benefit minus the social cost. The market maximizes the social net benefits from the production of the good as the willingness to pay for each unit produced exceeds the cost to produce it but for the last unit produced, where the willingness to pay for it equals its production cost.
9.2.2 Extending the Benefit-Cost Paradigm to Government Decision Making The paradigm of benefit-cost analysis recommends that governments should make decisions that affect the allocation of resources based on the criterion that something is only worth doing if its benefits are greater than its costs.2 Relative to an individual deciding whether to purchase a particular good or service, analyzing whether the benefits of a government action are worth the costs is more challenging because often a policy will change the prices of some goods or services. Therefore, when evaluating how a policy changes the social net benefits that are realized from a marketed good, the government analyzes how total surplus changes. This means that the government needs to know how much buyers are willing to pay at each price, i.e., total
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willingness to pay, and how much sellers are willing to produce at each price to properly analyze the policy. This way of thinking about the worthiness of a policy is easily understood when the goods whose quantities or qualities are affected by the policy are exchanged in markets. But what about the case where society values a good or service that will be affected by a particular policy, but where the good or service does not have a price? In order to fully account for the changes in the net benefits to society from a policy, changes in the quality or quantity of these goods must also be considered. First, one has to understand why some goods do not have prices, or why some observed prices are considered unreliable for cost-benefit analysis. It is frequently because, somewhat perversely, all members of society may simultaneously benefit from the good regardless of who provided it or who assures its protection. Such goods are called public goods. Often, the enjoyment that comes from public goods is called “nonuse,” “passive use” or “existence” value.3 Nonuse values are just that; they are values that do not come from actively partaking in a good, but simply from knowing that it exists. Classic examples of goods that provide nonuse value are the protection of species and ecosystems for their own sake.4 Many members of society hold nonuse values for the protection of species and ecosystems, so if an ecosystem were protected many would benefit. However, markets provide an insufficient amount of species or ecosystem protection because individuals have insufficient incentive or ability to provide these goods on their own. Furthermore, even if an individual tried to provide these goods on her own, it would be hard for her to make sure that others who benefit from the protection she is providing compensate her for her effort. Other members of society would take comfort in knowing that the species was protected, but have no incentive to pay for it to be protected.5 Even when some protection is privately provided, there is reason to believe that some are getting a benefit without paying for it, and therefore the optimal level of protection from the standpoint of society is not being provided.6 So, whatever price is revealed for protecting a species or ecosystem by independent, private and altruistic actions, it does not provide a complete representation of the benefit of protecting the species for a benefit-cost analysis. Unsurprisingly, deciding on the right level of environmental quality is a situation where governments, acting on behalf of the collective of society, often step in to make sure that enough of the good is provided. The economic approach to environmental policy would recognize a role for government to assure that the air and water is cleaner and that more species and ecosystems are protected than they otherwise would be, but it would also seek to strike a balance between competing uses of these resources. We are back to the question, are the benefits of the different competing uses worth their costs? It is often relatively easy to use prices to measure the costs but not all of the benefits of environmental protection, but this does not mean that somehow the consideration of costs should carry the day. To account for the entire social benefit of protecting the environment, economists turn to stated preference methods to include the measurement of nonuse benefits.
9.2.3 Stated Preference Methods and Nonuse Values Benefit-cost analysis relies on stated preference methods to estimate the nonuse value associated with a particular environmental resource, and to come up with a demand
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for the services that resource provides. Stated preference methods involve administering surveys to individuals or households to solicit their willingness to pay (WTP) for improvements to environmental amenities.7 At its core, the survey presents the respondent with a hypothetical scenario and choice question asking the respondent how much she would pay, or whether she would be willing to pay a certain amount, in exchange for an improvement in the quality of an environmental amenity. The survey typically describes some intervention or program that would lead to the improvement in the environmental amenity and that would be funded in part by the respondent’s payment. Although stated preference studies were adopted to estimate nonuse values, they simultaneously capture the use values associated with the improvement described in the survey. When responding to the choice question, respondents presumably take into account all sources of benefits they would receive from that improvement. Unless the researcher has very good information on all of the possible use values associated with the improvement described in the survey, it would be impossible to decompose the portions of estimated WTP into its use and nonuse components. There are two common varieties of stated preference surveys.8 With a contingent valuation survey, respondents are asked whether they would be willing to pay a specific amount to see a particular environmental improvement, or they are asked how much they would be willing to pay. In a contingent valuation survey the environmental improvement and the method of providing it are typically described in some detail. The stated preference study described later in this chapter is an example of a contingent valuation survey. Conjoint surveys, which are also called choice experiment or attribute-based surveys, are the other common form of stated preference surveys. With these methods, a list of attributes is used to describe usually two or three different scenarios to respondents and they are asked which scenario they prefer. Each respondent is usually asked a series of these questions with the levels of the attributes in the choices changing from question to question. The attributes are mostly qualities of the environmental good (so each scenario has different levels of the qualities of the environmental good). However, one of the attributes is how much it will cost the respondent if that particular scenario is adopted. The conjoint approach allows the researcher to estimate the benefits of a number of different scenarios to determine which scenario is most preferred. Examining respondents’ preferences over several scenarios and a wide variety of environmental and cost attributes also provides information on how respondents’ value changes in individual attributes of the environmental good. The end of this chapter describes the development and administration of conjoint surveys to value changes similar to those found in the Adirondacks contingent valuation survey.
9.2.4 Desirable Qualities of Stated Preference Studies While the primary objective of conducting a stated preference survey is to estimate the willingness of respondents to pay for a particular environmental amenity, the validity of this estimate is dependent on a number of survey design decisions. For example, the survey must clearly and accurately describe the environmental resource
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change. Accomplishing this task requires understanding how respondents perceive the resource and describing the resource in a way that is salient to them. It also requires translating the changes expected by the natural science fields to changes in the resource qualities that respondents care most about. Furthermore, for the estimates to be valid, the respondent should accept that the intervention that they are potentially paying for would actually achieve the ecological improvements that are described. Similarly, respondents should find the system for paying for the environmental improvements, the “payment vehicle,” credible. A common payment vehicle includes an increase in property or income taxes.9 This payment vehicle is typically coupled with a referendum-style voting question in the stated preference survey. The referendum format asks whether the respondent would vote for or against a program that would increase their taxes in exchange for the environmental improvement described in the survey. The referendum has an important advantage in that most respondents are familiar with referenda-voting type mechanisms from state and local elections. This enhances the credibility of the survey and also helps provide an incentive for respondents to truthfully reveal their actual WTP. Reliable stated preference studies usually have been subject to rigorous focus group testing and include carefully considered debriefing questions to assure that the payment vehicle is credible and that the resource change perceived by respondents coincides with the change the researcher is trying to describe in the survey.
9.2.5 Concerns About using Stated-Preference Methods The use of stated preference techniques is somewhat controversial. Those outside the discipline often object to assigning values in currency to particular resources. Reasonable minds may disagree about the ethical implications of assigning monetary values to resources that may be considered “invaluable.” But, by observing the policy process, we see that society makes tradeoffs between goods that have market prices and those that do not. Furthermore, one fear that critics seem to have is that WTP estimates from a stated preference survey will somehow be low. However, there is no a priori reason to believe this. A stated preference survey may confirm that the WTP for a particular good, say increasing the population of a particular species, is quite high and thus even more should be done than current efforts. Even economists debate the reliability of stated preference studies. Some object to the idea that useful information on the tradeoffs that individuals are willing to make to protect the environment can be gathered from a survey. Unlike the expenditure of one’s income, one’s response to a survey is usually inconsequential.10 The debate amongst economists came to a head with the use of stated preference methods in estimating the damages from the Exxon Valdez oil spill (Carson et al. 2003, Portney 1994, Hanemann 1994, Diamond and Hausman 1994). Faced with this debate, the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) commissioned a panel of leading economists and survey practitioners for guidance on the validity and appropriate use of stated preference techniques (Arrow et al. 1993). The NOAA panel suggested that stated preference techniques could be used for estimating nonuse values, conditional on relatively strict guidelines for their implementation.
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9.2.6 Stated Preference: Current Practice Government agencies such as the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency are still evaluating when and how best to use stated preference methods, particularly as it relates to measuring the value of changes to the services that ecosystems provide (U.S.EPA 2002). Contemporary concerns mirror those raised by the NOAA panel. For example, stated-preference studies are coming under increased scrutiny as to whether the people who decide to complete the survey are representative of the target population (Krupnick and Evans 2008). The next section of this chapter describes an application of a contingent valuation survey to estimating the benefits of reduced acidification in the Adirondacks Park. This description should make some of the issues touched on in the preceding discussion more concrete. For a more detailed and generic description of the philosophy and practice of stated preference methods see Mitchell and Carson (1989), Freeman (2003) or Champ et al. (2003). For a contemporary users guide see Kanninen (2007) or Bateman et al. (2002). Carson et al. (1995) and Carson (2008) provide exhaustive lists of stated preference studies that had been conducted to date. The Environmental Valuation Reference Inventory is an on-line database of studies, including stated preference studies, which estimate the economic value of changes to environmental quality and human health (EVRI 2008). Appendix C of Krupnick and Evans (2008) provides investigator-authored descriptions of recent and ongoing highprofile stated preference studies that have informing policy analysis as a primary objective.11
9.3 An Example: Ecosystem Improvements in the Adirondacks The Adirondack Park is the name given to the large collection of public and private lands in central New York that is protected from development. The park covers 20 percent of New York State and is nearly three times the size of Yellowstone National Park. It is primarily mountainous, encompasses six major river basins, contains almost 3,000 lakes, and holds the largest assemblage of old-growth forests east of the Mississippi. The park has featured prominently in air quality policy debates over the past few decades. The watersheds in the park are sensitive to the deposition of sulfur and nitrogen, which make the ecosystem more acidic. The source of these pollutants is typically the combustion of fossil fuels. About one-half of the park’s lakes are affected by acid deposition, which reduces the ability of these lakes to support plant and animal life. Forest health, particularly at high elevations, and bird populations may also be compromised by acid deposition. Federal and state initiatives to reduce air pollution, including the 1990 Clean Air Act Amendments and the recently promulgated Clean Air Interstate Rule that takes effect in 2010, have cited reduced acid deposition as a benefit of reductions in sulfur and nitrogen emissions. But these policies have proceeded despite a missing link between the ecological science and the social science necessary to enable economic valuation of the benefits of these emissions reductions. In particular, no one knows how much people value the Adirondacks ecosystem improvements that may result
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from these policies. This knowledge is required for a full accounting of the benefits and costs of reducing these pollutants. Our study is the first to examine the total (use and nonuse) value people place on broad ecosystem improvements expected from further reductions in air pollution in the park. Previous studies only examined values for changes in recreation opportunities affected by acid deposition (Englin et al. 1991, Morey and Shaw 1990, Mullen and Menz 1985).12 While only a relatively small fraction of New Yorkers actually visits the park, the political saliency of the Adirondacks in air pollution debates suggests that nonusers may value the park highly. Furthermore, the benefit estimates from these other studies do not necessarily correspond to an ecological outcome that would be reasonably expected from forthcoming emissions reductions. In the following description of our study, particular attention is paid to how the survey characterizes broad ecosystem improvements. The study is described in greater detail in Banzhaf et al. (2004, 2006). We found that New Yorkers—both users and nonusers alike—place significant value on rectifying damages from acid rain in the park. Our preferred estimates of mean WTP vary from $80 to $154 per household each year (2004 $).13,14
9.3.1 Details of the Study The study targeted households living in New York State in part because they likely would hold a large share of the benefits of any park improvements. We estimated societal WTP for improvements to the park using a contingent valuation survey, which asked whether households are willing to pay for a specific hypothetical program or intervention that, in this case, would lead to ecosystem improvements in the Adirondacks. Specifically, respondents were asked if they would vote for a program to improve the park’s ecosystem if it would increase their state income taxes each year for the next 10 years, given that if the majority of voters agree, the program would be adopted. Four possible tax payments were randomly assigned: $25, $90, $150, and $250. The first hypothetical referendum question was followed up by a second referendum question with either a higher or lower tax payment depending on the respondent’s response to the first referendum. Figure 9.1 provides the text of a hypothetical referendum question where the tax payment is $50 per year. To assure that the ecosystem changes being valued mapped closely to the current and expected future condition of the park, we performed a detailed survey of the natural science literature (Cook et al. 2002). Armed with this information, we conducted numerous focus groups to identify ways to accurately and meaningfully distill this complex information in the survey. Understandably, there is considerable scientific uncertainty as to how the ecosystem may change with further emissions reductions.15 In response, we developed two versions of the survey to span the range of scientific opinion about the future status of the park both with and without further emissions reductions. These two versions also permitted a “scope” test to verify whether greater improvements to the resource generate a higher WTP, which is considered to be an important validation of the study design. The “base case” version of the survey depicted the future status of the park’s ecosystem as unchanging absent any intervention and as improving with an
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Please Vote: The government is considering a program to improve lakes in the Adirondacks. This program will increase the populations of fish and improve the ecosystem of 600 lakes of concern in the Park. Without this program, the number of lakes of concern will remain the same; and their quality will not improve or worsen. If the majority of voters support this program your household’s share of its cost would be $500 in total, or $50 per year, paid as an additional tax over the next ten years. If a vote were held today, would you vote FOR the program or AGAINST it? VOTE FOR IT
VOTE AGAINST IT
Fig. 9.1 Referendum question
intervention. In this version, the intervention yields the improvement of 600 lakes (of about 1,500 currently damaged) over a 10-year period, along with small increases in the populations of two bird and one tree species. The “scope case” version depicts the ecosystem as worsening without any intervention; with intervention, 900 lakes improve with significant increases in the population of four bird and three tree species over the same 10-year time period. We convened 31 focus groups and conducted two major pretests to develop and extensively assess alternative text, debriefing questions, and graphics. For example, in explaining the harm to the lakes, we needed language that would convey that environmental consequences, not human health, are at issue. To do this, we likened the acidity of the affected lakes to that of orange juice—possibly affecting wildlife relying on the lakes, but harmless to humans. Another challenge in constructing the survey was to describe the particular components of the ecosystem that are damaged and that would improve as a result of the intervention being proposed. The natural science literature does not explicitly identify, much less quantify, all of the harms associated with acidification (Cook et al. 2002). When describing the damages to the aquatic ecosystem we indicate the number of adversely affected lakes, which the survey refers to as “lakes of concern.” A lake of concern is one with reduced or eliminated populations of six particular fish species that are otherwise common in the park’s waters. While other aquatic species have been adversely affected by acid deposition, the survey does not explicitly name these species. Rather, the survey states: “As you may know, fish are not the only organisms that depend on healthy lakes. A more complicated but accurate description of the problem is that pollution is damaging a lake’s ecosystem. A lake ecosystem is defined as all of the living things that are directly connected to and depend on the lake. . . . Along with fish, the ecosystem of an Adirondack lake includes such organisms as snails, frogs, insects, and tiny organisms that live in the water, called plankton. These organisms have been reduced or eliminated by previous pollution in the lakes of concern. Fish survival depends on many creatures and plants that live in the lakes. Thus fish populations are indicators of overall ecosystem health.”
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Around 2014
Today
Improved Lakes (20% lakes)
Healthy Lakes (50%)
600
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1,500 900 With Program
1,500
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1,500 Without Program
Healthy Lakes (50% lakes)
1,500
Healthy Lakes (50%)
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Lakes of Concern (50%)
Fig. 9.2 The future with the improvement program (base case survey)
Although this is an accurate description of the damages from acidification, it is admittedly imprecise as to the commodity being valued. Figure 9.2 was used in the survey to show how the status of the lakes would change over time with and without a program designed to improve the park’s ecosystem. The initial strategy in the survey design was to describe acidification damages and effects on aquatic species only, about which there is greater scientific consensus, and not to discuss terrestrial species (trees and birds). However, from the focus group testing, we found some respondents assumed an overly expansive interpretation of the resources affected by acidification. If the survey did not mention broad ecosystem effects, we learned that many respondents assumed that terrestrial resources were harmed and assumed that the intervention would actually improve these resources.16 This is a case of “embedding” on behalf of the survey respondents as they were ascribing improvements far beyond what is described in the survey. When respondents embed additional improvements to the resource that were not described in the survey, the WTP for the improvement described in the survey will be overestimated. It may even be the case that the WTP estimate for the survey that described smaller improvements to the lakes would have been higher or indistinguishable than the WTP estimate from the survey that described terrestrial improvements in addition to aquatic improvements. This would have raised questions as to the validity of the WTP estimates. To address this, the base case survey explicitly describes terrestrial damages. We essentially validate the strong priors of some respondents that terrestrial resources must be harmed at some level, but then indicate that these resources would only see minor improvements as a result of the intervention being proposed. The focus group testing suggested that once respondents found their strong intuition about ecological relationships validated in the survey, the survey’s characterization of limited improvements outside the aquatic ecosystem became credible.
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In proposing improvements, we needed to ensure that the intervention was plausible and understandable to respondents. Respondents also needed to be reasonably convinced that they would have to pay for the intervention if the majority of voters agreed to it. This was a major challenge as the way the park is likely to be improved— through a national policy for emissions reductions at eastern and midwestern power plants—would not impose costs primarily on New York State residents. Our solution was to introduce a hypothetical intervention in which New York State would run a taxfinanced program to drop lime from airplanes onto lakes and affected forests to neutralize the acidity. Respondents generally accepted this necessary ruse.17 Figure 9.3 presents a graphic used in the survey to show how the liming program would work. The survey was administered through multiple mode and sampling frame combinations from August 2003 through February 2004. One sample was drawn from a probability-based panel maintained by the firm that administered the survey. The panelists take surveys (primarily for marketing of commercial products) on a regular basis in exchange for Internet access. Another sample had been on the panel in the past but was no longer on it for a variety of reasons. Both of these samples were administered the survey on a computer and took an average of about 30 minutes to complete it. A third sample was recruited through random-digit dialing. This sample was mailed a paper copy of the survey, which was 35 pages long. While there are some differences in the respondent characteristics across the samples (for example, the mail sample had the oldest average age), in general they display fairly similar average income, political attitudes, and other characteristics. More importantly, once these observable differences were controlled for, the WTP for the improvement described in the survey did not vary significantly across the three groups of respondents.
9.3.2 Interpreting the Responses As discussed above, a common criticism of contingent valuation studies is that because of the hypothetical nature of the exercise, respondents may not consider whether they would be better off if the intervention were adopted and their taxes rose accordingly. Typically the concern is that the WTP estimates generated from the survey overstate true WTP for the described improvements.18 The hypothesis underlying this concern
Fig. 9.3 Depicting hypothetical liming program
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is that respondents may vote for the program in a pro forma way, perhaps out of a desire to please the survey administrator, be generous, or support environmental causes, rather than out of desire for the specific improvements to the park that would require the expenditure of actual resources. For this reason we followed a cautious approach in designing the survey and applying statistical methods so that our estimates of social WTP may be less than the true WTP for the improvements described. For example, we frequently reminded respondents of the costs involved, used black-andwhite photographs, and otherwise sought to avoid emotional triggers. Another potential challenge to measuring WTP is those respondents who vote against the program for reasons extraneous to its benefits and costs—for example, because they are reflexively opposed to raising taxes or distrust the government on principle. In the literature these are referred to as protest votes in that the respondent rejects the choice scenario. This does not mean, however, that the respondent would not realize benefits greater than their tax payment for the environmental improvement. We used questions about respondents’ feelings toward the government and taxes to econometrically control for respondent behavior of this type.19 We performed similar adjustments to the estimates for respondents who felt the environment was worth protecting at any cost or that the intervention would somehow improve human health.20 So who tended to value the environmental improvements most highly? Households with the highest WTP included those with the highest incomes, those that expected their future income to increase over the next 10 years, and those with children. Measures of personal stake were also important, with households that frequently visited the park (23 percent of our sample) willing to pay 70 percent more than those that visited less frequently or not at all. Those living farther from the park were willing to pay less, with WTP falling by about $.08 per kilometer from the household’s closest vehicle entrance to the park. Self-classified environmentalists were more likely to vote for the intervention, just as self-proclaimed conservatives and those who think taxes are too high were more likely to vote against. Other important tests of construct validity include whether respondents are sensitive to the tax level and the extent or scope of the improvements. We found that indeed respondents who faced a higher tax payment were less likely to vote for the program. We also found that at each of the possible tax levels the percentage of respondents who voted for the improvement program was higher for the survey that described greater improvements (i.e., the scope survey) than for the survey that described smaller improvements (i.e., the base survey). Also, estimated mean WTP was higher for the survey that described greater improvements (when a statistical distribution of WTP was assumed). Interestingly, we also found that 24 percent of the respondents to the base case survey that described the situation in the park as stable in the absence of intervention actually felt that the situation in the park was probably worse than described in the survey. However, for the scope case survey that described a worsening situation in the absence of any intervention, this percentage fell to 6 percent. This finding suggests that respondents were both familiar with acidification and were sensitive to the description of the resource and its condition. To calculate the annual benefits of these improvements, we must discount both the future benefits and costs of this intervention.21 Recall that the payment vehicle involves an annual tax increase every year for 10 years. To convert these values to an
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annual value we assume a 5 percent discount rate.22 The mean annual household WTP estimate from the responses to the base case survey that described smaller ecosystem improvements is about $80 or $107, depending on the statistical method used. The estimated mean WTP for the scope case that described greater improvements is $90 or $154. Multiplied by the 7 million households in the state, the total annual benefit of the improvements described in the surveys to the state’s residents is between $560 million and $1.1 billion annually. The benefit estimates this study yielded can be compared to abatement cost estimates to help decide if further emissions reductions are worthwhile. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has estimated the costs of its Clean Air Interstate Rule to be $1.91–$2.14 billion in 2010, rising to $2.56–$3.07 billion by 2015 (1999 $) (U.S.EPA 2005).23 Given that we excluded populations outside of New York State and estimated benefits conservatively, our results suggest that the ecosystem benefits from the improvements in the Adirondacks offset a sizable fraction of the national costs of the new rule.
9.4 Comparing Stated Preference Methods and Expanding the Region of Interest Our analysis of the total, both use and nonuse, value effects of reducing acid deposition precursors in the Adirondacks has provided the foundation for other areas of research. We are currently developing both contingent valuation and conjoint surveys to estimate the value of reducing acid rain precursors in the Southern Appalachian Mountain region. These surveys will be used to answer multiple research questions (Krupnick et al. 2004). Our intention is also that these studies will inform benefit-cost analysis of policies regarding air quality and ecological resources. By simultaneously administering contingent valuation and conjoint surveys we can determine whether these different stated preference approaches yield similar estimates of the benefits of reducing acid deposition. The advantage of the conjoint method relative to a contingent valuation study is that a conjoint study can provide WTP estimates not just for one particular change in the resource, but provide for a range of improvements to the environmental resource and estimates of how changes in the levels of different attributes of that resource may be substituted for each other and make the average respondent no worse off. For example, the conjoint surveys will describe changes to the aquatic (e.g., lakes or streams of concern) and terrestrial (e.g., forest cover) amenities as separate attributes (with the tax payment that the respondent would bear being a third attribute). Participants in focus groups have found separating the ecological effects into aquatic and terrestrial effects reasonable.24 One way in which the conjoint approach is more limiting is that it provides less room in the survey for the information treatment, which is the description of the environmental improvement and the program that would achieve it, or it lengthens the time it takes to complete the survey. The two stated preference methods will also be compared for their suitability for performing benefits transfer. Benefits transfer is the use of valuation estimates provided in one context, say the value of ecosystem improvements to New Yorkers
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from reduced acidification in the Adirondacks, to another context, like the value of ecosystem improvements to Virginians from reduced acidification in the Shenandoah National Park. In addition to evaluating the suitability of the different stated preference methods to benefits transfer (along with evaluating benefits transfer methods themselves), our ongoing research includes an integrated assessment component that will allow us to simultaneously evaluate the benefits and costs of reducing precursors to acid rain. We will use a model of the electricity sector market to estimate the cost of reducing acidification precursors and link the emissions predicted by the market model to an atmospheric deposition and an ecological effect model. The results from the stated preference studies will provide estimates of the monetized benefits of the resource changes predicted by the ecological effect model. One unique aspect of this exercise is that we will be able to evaluate whether the current mix of sulfur and nitrogen oxides abatement levels achieves the current level of ecological benefits at least cost. Viewed another way, we will ask whether the current cost of controlling sulfur and nitrogen oxides could be better distributed across these pollutants to achieve greater ecosystem benefits.
9.5 Concluding Thoughts Benefit-cost analysis is a decision-making tool for determining whether or not a particular activity is worthwhile. For government policies a benefit-cost analysis requires measuring social benefits and costs. In a market setting these are respectively equivalent to total WTP and to the expenditures paid to produce goods. For public goods that have nonuse values, stated preference methods are used to measure the entire social benefits (total value) from protecting or providing these resources. The two common types of stated preference surveys are contingent valuation and conjoint analysis. We described a contingent valuation survey measuring the benefits of reducing acidification damages in the Adirondack Park to highlight the usefulness and challenges of this technique. Further strategies to reduce emissions are being justified, in part, by how they will improve this unique resource. For the first time, results have been produced that show the total value people place on ecological improvements to the park expected from further reductions in acid deposition. The estimated benefit of these improvements is large and offsets to an important degree the costs of achieving further reductions. These benefits come in addition to expected improvements in human health that also would result from reducing the pollutants that cause acid rain. Conjoint surveys can also be used to estimate the benefits of reduced acidification as seen in our ongoing research in the Southern Appalachian Mountains region. The purpose of this book is to explore whether it is generally better to focus protection on a single threatened species or on ecosystems as a whole. Underlying this question is which resource management approach, protecting a species or an ecosystem, yields the greatest benefits to society. As economists we feel our discipline is well suited to helping to weigh the options of how (and whether) to protect a resource using either of these approaches. A few lessons from our research speak specifically to this question. First, we found that respondents were fairly sophisticated in understanding ecological function and the
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effects of acid deposition. Presumably in weighing the benefits and costs of protecting a single species, respondents will recognize that protecting the species will yield joint products (e.g., protecting the brook trout leads to protection of other species). For this reason, researchers using stated-preference studies to weigh the desirability of protecting a single species or the ecosystem in which it resides will find it challenging to describe the expected resource change and interpret the WTP estimates from the survey. Second, it is important to keep in mind that we did not value the entire Adirondack Park. Rather, we measured the benefits of improvements to the ecological health of the park expected from reduced acid deposition. Indeed, to the casual observer very little would visibly change as a result of the improvements the survey describes. Even if one is considering the protection of an ecosystem, the alternative to protection is typically not elimination of the ecosystem. One implication of this is that describing the conditions absent a particular preservation program are equally important and perhaps as difficult as describing the expected conditions with the program. An even more critical implication is in properly interpreting our findings as only applying to the particular changes described in the survey. In fact, the economics literature describes important reasons why one should be reluctant to try to value such a unique resource as the Adirondacks in its entirety. It is a happy coincidence that small changes to the quality of a resource are easier for respondents to conceive, easier to estimate, and the relevant measure for policy analysis.
Notes †
1. 2.
3.
4.
Evans is an Economist in the National Center for Environmental Economics at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the corresponding author (
[email protected]). Banzhaf is an Associate Professor in the Department of Economics at Georgia State University. Burtraw and Krupnick are Senior Fellows and Siikam¨aki is a Fellow at Resources for the Future. The views expressed in this chapter are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency or Resources for the Future. In addition, although the research described in this paper may have been funded entirely or in part by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, it has not been subjected to the Agency’s peer and policy review. No official Agency endorsement should be inferred. The surveys and data analysis described in this chapter were supported by the U.S.EPA (CX 826562-01-2 and R832422). We thank Brian Heninger for many helpful comments on an early draft of this chapter. These benefits and harms that are unaccounted by the market are called externalities. The damage caused by unregulated pollution is an example. The question of who should pay the costs or receive the benefits of a policy or activity is an issue separate from the benefit-cost criterion. However, benefit-cost analysis can tell us who will receive the benefits of a policy and who will bear its costs. Furthermore, if the benefit of a particular policy is greater than its cost, the policy’s distributional consequences could be shifted around so as to make the policy politically acceptable, with society as a whole still benefiting from its adoption. The government could arrange for the costs and the benefits to be shared in a way that is politically palatable through elements of the policy’s design or through mandatory payments between and among beneficiaries and those bearing the cost. Technically, the presence of nonuse values for a good makes it a public good. However, not all public goods have nonuse values. For a technical definition of a public good see Baumol and Oates (1988). The recreational enjoyment of an ecological resource would not capture the nonuse value associated with that resource. Recreation is an example of a “use” value. The term use does not
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6. 7.
8. 9. 10.
11. 12.
13.
14. 15.
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18. 19. 20.
21.
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necessarily imply transformation or manipulation of the resource. The recreational value of ecological resources can be estimated using information on the expenditures (travel costs, housing prices, etc.) paid to enjoy those resources. Nonuse values are in addition to any recreational values. For those that could use an example to make this discussion a little less esoteric, consider the case of the owner of prairie land who is deciding on how she wants to use that land. She could leave the prairie as it is and provide habitat for a species, and get some personal benefit from doing so. However, she will find it hard to be compensated by anyone else that will benefit from her efforts. Alternatively, she could convert the prairie to farmland, where the benefits of doing so are market prices. In one case only some of the benefit goes to her, and in the other she gets all of the benefit. This makes it more likely that she will choose to farm her land. For this reason donations to environmental groups cannot be used to measure nonuse values. Stated preference techniques have been used in circumstances other than valuing changes in environmental amenities for the purposes of government decision making. For an example of the application of stated preference techniques to valuing changes in human health see Alberini et al. (2004). Stated preference methods are also frequently used for ecological damage assessment (e.g., Carson et al. 2003). See Siikam¨aki and Layton (2007) for a description and an empirical comparison of alternative stated preference methods. Other common payment vehicles used in stated preference surveys include fees on utility bills and increases in the prices of certain goods. This is a fair concern and subject of active research seeking to improve the validity of stated preference valuation studies. However, one should not be lulled into believing that somehow market data is therefore superior or that economists do not frequently use voluntary survey data to inform policies and allocate budgets. As opposed to improving stated preference methodology. The absence of a study that reliably estimated changes in nonuse values associated with changes in acid deposition was identified as an important hole in our understanding of the effects of acidification in the 1990 National Acid Precipitation Assessment Program (National Acid Precipitation Assessment Program, 1991). Gardner Brown, the author of chapter 4 of this volume, was a lead author of the ecological benefits valuation section of the NAPAP report. Dr. Brown was also an early developer and practitioner of stated preference methods. These estimates are preferred because in our view they are the most defensible treatment of certain types of responses in estimating WTP. Our treatment of these responses (protest votes) is briefly described in Section 9.3.2. All of the dollar values in this chapter are in 2004 dollars except where indicated otherwise. The overall improvements described in these surveys can be taken as a reasonable approximation of the improvements expected by the recently adopted Clean Air Interstate Rule. For a detailed discussion of how the benefits described in these surveys map to expected improvements under this rule, see Krupnick et al. (2007). Some respondents may have also had some familiarity with the effects of acidification and thought that the scientific consensus regarding terrestrial effects is stronger than it actually is. We did not try to determine which of these two possibilities more frequently explained the tendency of respondents to hold this more expansive view of the damages from acidification. At the end of the survey we told the respondents that the liming program is not being considered by the New York State government and that achieving the improvements would require reductions in pollution. Whether this concern is empirically valid is debatable. Mitchell and Carson (1989) argue that it is overblown. See Banzhaf et al. (2004, 2006) for alternative WTP estimates based on samples that omit these respondents. Recall that the purpose of the survey is to measure the known benefits of reducing acidification in the park ecosystem. There is no scientific evidence that reducing the effects of acidification in remote lakes and forests in the Adirondacks directly improves human health. Given a particular dollar amount of a benefit or cost, that dollar amount has a higher benefit or cost if it is realized now than if it is realized in the future. This is because people are generally
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impatient and value current benefits and costs more than future benefits and costs, and because current benefits are more valuable given that they can be invested and yield a higher benefit in the future. Discounting is the process of converting future benefits and costs to current benefits and costs. An introductory economics textbook can be consulted for a more detailed description of discounting. 22. We assume that the respondents believe that the improvements will phase in linearly over the 10 years of the program and after 10 years continue indefinitely. A lower discount rate would yield a lower estimate of the annual benefit of the ecological improvements. To understand why this is the case, please see Banzhaf et al. 2006. 23. These amounts reflect resource costs in the form of increased pollution control and fuel expenditures and not welfare costs as an economist would measure them. Palmer et al. (2007) find that the reduction in consumer and producer surplus from the Clean Air Interstate Rule totals $5.2 billion (2004 $) in 2020. 24. It is also a sensible interpretation as, roughly speaking, sulfur deposition has a larger effect on aquatic resources and nitrogen deposition has a larger effect on terrestrial resources. In fact, the U.S.EPA is currently simultaneously considering updating ambient air quality standards for sulfur and nitrogen oxides in recognition of the similar, but not identical, effects caused by these pollutants on ecosystems. This is the first time that the U.S.EPA is jointly considering updating these standards for two different pollutants (U.S.EPA 2007). Stated preference studies such as those described here can inform the setting of those standards.
References Alberini, A., Cropper, M., Krupnick, A., Simon, N.B. (2004). Does the value of a statistical life vary with age and health status? Evidence from the US and Canada. Journal of Environmental Economics and Management, 48(1), 769–792. Arrow, K., Solow, R., Portney, P.R., Leamer, E.E., Radner, R., Schuman, H. (1993). Report of the NOAA panel on contingent valuation. Federal Register, 58(10), 4601–4614. Banzhaf, H.S., Burtraw, D., Evans, D., Krupnick, A. (2006). Valuation of natural resource improvements in the Adirondacks. Land Economics, 82(3), 445–464. Banzhaf, S., D. Burtraw, D. Evans, A. Krupnick. (2004). Valuation of natural resource improvements in the Adirondacks. RFF report. September 2004. Washington DC: Resources for the Future. Bateman, I., Carson, R.T., Day, B., Hanemann, W.M., Hanley, N., Hett, T., Jones-Lee, M., Loomes, ¨ G., Mourato, S., Ozdemiroglu, E., Pearce, D., Sugden, R., Swanson, J. (2002). Economic valuation with stated preference techniques. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Baumol, W.J. & Oates, W.E. (1988). The theory of environmental policy. New York: Cambridge University Press. Carson, R.T. (2008). Contingent valuation: a comprehensive bibliography and history. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Carson, R.T., Mitchell, R.C., Hanemann, W.M., Kopp, R. J., Presser, S., Ruud, P. A. (2003). Contingent valuation and lost passive use: damages from the Exxon Valdez oil spill. Environmental and Resource Economics, 25(3), 257–286. Carson, R.T., Wright, J., Carson, N., Alberini, A., Flores, N. (1995). A bibliography of contingent valuation studies and papers. La Jolla, CA: Natural Resource Damage Assessment, Inc. Champ, P.A., Boyle, K.J., Brown, T.C. (2003). A primer on nonmarket valuation. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Cook, J., Paul, A., Stoessell, T., Burtraw, D., Krupnick, A. (2002). Summary of the science of acidification in the Adirondack Park. Unpublished manuscript. Washington, DC: Resources for the Future. Diamond, P.A., & Hausman, J.A. (1994). Contingent valuation: is some number better than no number? Journal of Economic Perspectives, 8(4), 45–64. Englin, J.E., Cameron, T.A., Mendelsohn, R.E., Parsons, G.A., Shankle, S.A. (1991). Valuation of damages to recreational trout fishing in the Upper Northeast due to acidic deposition. PNL-7683. Report to the National Acid Precipitation Assessment Program. Seattle, WA: Pacific Northwest Laboratory.
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Environmental Valuation Reference Inventory (EVRI). (2008). http://www.evri.ca/english/ default.htm. Accessed 16 January 2008. Freeman, A.M. (2003). The measurement of environmental and resource values. 2nd ed. Washington, DC: Resources for the Future. Hanemann, W.M. (1994). Valuing the environment through contingent valuation. Journal of Economic Perspectives, 8(4), 19–43. Kanninen, B.J. (2007). Valuing environmental amenities using stated choice studies. Dordrecht: Springer. Krupnick, A.J., Banzhaf, S., Burtraw, D., Cosby, B., Driscoll, C.T., Evans, D., Siikamaki, J. (2004). Valuation of regional ecological response to acidification and techniques for transferring estimates. http://cfpub.epa.gov/ncer abstracts/index.cfm/fuseaction/display.abstractDetail/ abstract/7726/report/0. Accessed 16 January 2008. Krupnick, A., Evans, D., Mische John, A., Burtraw, D. (2007). Applicability of RFF research on the total value of natural resource improvements in the Adirondacks to the second prospective ecological benefits case study. In: Assessing the effects of the Clean Air Act Amendments of 1990 on ecological resources: updated literature review and terrestrial case study approach. U.S.EPA. http://www.epa.gov/oar/sect812/mar07/eco assessment.pdf. Accessed 25 February 2008. Krupnick, A., & Evans, D.A. (2008). Sample representativeness: implications for administering and testing stated preference surveys. October 2, 2006 Washington, DC: Resources for the Future. http://www.rff.org/rff/Events/Sample-Representativeness.cfm. Accessed 23 January 2008. Mitchell, R.C., & Carson, R.T. (1989). Using surveys to value public goods: the contingent valuation method. Washington, DC: Resources for the Future. Morey, E.R., & Shaw, W.D. (1990). An economic model to assess the impact of acid rain. Advances in Applied Microeconomics, 5, V. Kerry Smith (Ed.), Greenwich, Conn.: JAI. Mullen, J.K, & Menz, F.C. (1985). The effect of acidification damages on the economic value of the Adirondack fishery to New York anglers. American Journal of Agricultural Economics, 67(1), 112–119. National Acid Precipitation Assessment Program (NAPAP). (1991). 1990 Integrated assessment report. Silver Spring, MD: NAPAP. Palmer, K., Burtraw, D., Shih, J.-S. (2007). The benefits and costs of reducing emissions from the electricity sector. Journal of Environmental Management, 83(1), 115–130. Portney, P. (1994). The contingent valuation debate: why economists should care. Journal of Economic Perspectives, 8(4), 3–17. Siikam¨aki, J. & Layton, D.F. (2007). Discrete choice survey experiments: a comparison using flexible methods. Journal of Environmental Economics and Management, 53, 127–139. U.S.EPA. (2002). A framework for the economic assessment of ecological benefits. Washington, DC: U.S.EPA. U.S. EPA. (2005). Rule to reduce interstate transport of fine particulate matter and ozone (Clean Air Interstate Rule); Revisions to acid rain program; Revisions to the NOX SIP call. Federal Register, 70(91), 25162–25405. U.S.EPA. (2007). Integrated review plan for the secondary national ambient air quality standards for nitrogen dioxide and sulfur dioxide. Washington, DC: U.S.EPA. http://www.epa.gov/ ttn/naaqs/standards/no2so2sec/cr pd.html. Accessed 16 January 2008.
Chapter 10
Conserving Forest Ecosystems: Guidelines for Size, Condition and Landscape Requirements Mark G. Anderson
Abstract A forest ecosystem consists of thousands of species. Conserving forest biodiversity depends on protecting complete ecosystems that contain the full complement of their associated flora and fauna. Here I present an explicit framework and a set of guidelines for selecting and conserving forest sites as coarse-filters for forest biodiversity. The framework focuses on: 1) Size; defined as the area needed to accommodate natural dynamics and provide sufficient breeding area for multiple pairs of forest interior species, 2) Condition; defined as the quantity of biological legacies, and the amount of non-fragmented interior forest needed to ensure resilience, and 3) Landscape context; defined as the amount and configuration of managed forest cover to maintain regional scale properties, and to buffer and connect key reserve areas. I use a case study from the Northern Appalachians ecoregion to illustrate the development of quantitative thresholds and measurable goals for these characteristics.
10.1 Introduction A complete forest ecosystem consists of thousands of species. Surprisingly, plants and vertebrates account for less than 20% of the individual species, while the small but overwhelmingly numerous invertebrates, fungi, and bacteria make up the bulk of the diversity (Steele and Welch 1973, Falinski 1986, Wilson 1987). Conserving every species depends on protecting complete ecosystems that contain the full complement of their associated flora and fauna (Noss 1987, Hunter 1991). This “coarse filter” approach to conservation is arguably the only way to conserve all biodiversity (Franklin 1993), but the strategy could fail if applied uncritically. Here I present an explicit framework and a set of guidelines for applying the coarse-filter approach to the selection and conservation of forest sites. For a forest ecosystem to maintain its biodiversity it must be able to absorb small perturbations and to prevent them from amplifying into large disturbances (resistance), and to return to the original level of productivity and species composition following disturbance (resilience; Holling 1973). The resistance and resilience of ecosystems are dependent on their size, condition and landscape context. How large, and in what condition, must a forest reserve be to contribute effectively to the conservation of all biodiversity and remain resilient in a changing world? The problem is one of scale, and depends on the extent of the forest type under consideration. My focus is on dominant forests that are semi-contiguous across areas of 10,000 R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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to 1,000,000 hectares, termed here “matrix-forming forest” (Anderson 1999), to distinguish them from unique, “patch-forming” forest types such as a talus slope forest or hardwood swamp that occur at much smaller scales in atypical settings (Poiani et al. 2000). Forest ecosystems are also continuous across time, during which they accumulate residual characteristics, such as seed banks, soil humus, nutrient pools, and coarse woody debris, which increase the stability of the whole ecosystem even as the species fluctuate in abundance and relative importance (Orians 1975). Effective forest reserves must be places where diverse and structurally complex forest ecosystems can be restored; where interior forest species like barred owls, woodland hawks, forest songbirds and pine marten continue to thrive; where cool headwater streams remain in natural conditions, and where deep soils, old fallen logs and rich seed banks still stabilize the system.
10.2 Background Northeastern forests are the center of distribution for temperate trees such as red spruce (Picea rubens) and striped maple (Acer pensylvanicum) as well as a myriad of shrubs, ferns, herbs and forest dwelling animals. Most of the historically forested land in the Northeastern United States was cleared for agriculture and pasture during the 19th century. Although much of this area is now reverting to forest, the forest cover is both young and simplified (Foster and O’Keefe 2000). Moreover, during reforestation the human population increased exponentially, road densities increased over a thousand-fold and logging broadened from selective cutting of large pines to complete harvesting of multiple hardwood and softwood species (Regier and Baskerville 1986). A growing array of pests and pathogens, soil acidification, fragmentation, and a changing climate are increasingly threatening forest stability. Literature on managing forests for conservation largely focuses on stand composition and successional processes. My approach concentrates on 1) the area needed to accommodate natural dynamics, 2) the condition of the soil and other forest structures, and 3) the intactness of the surrounding landscape. These three topics, the size, condition and landscape context of a forest ecosystem, are treated below.
10.3 Size Two sets of criteria must be used to define the area needed to ensure that a forest ecosystem remains viable and provides coarse-filter conservation for all species. The first set uses the scale and frequency of natural disturbances – particularly large infrequent catastrophic disturbances – to estimate the minimum dynamic area needed to encompass natural processes. The second set estimates the area needed for a forest to contain multiple breeding pairs of associated birds and mammals.
10.3.1 Disturbance Dynamics The area encompassing a forest’s natural disturbance dynamics is a function of the size of expected disturbances, their frequency and their spatial overlap (Peterson and
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Pickett 1995). This relationship simplifies if we assume that frequency is a constant, e.g., that disturbances of the last century will repeat a minimum of once over the next few centuries (the natural life span of the dominant trees) and that there will be no overlap among the severe-disturbance patches. Factoring out frequency and overlap reduces the central question to how large of an area is affected by a single disturbance event and, specifically, how large is the maximum severe-damage patch (defined as the area of total canopy destruction) for a given type of disturbance? Focusing on the severe damage patch size is necessary because the pattern and extent of severe damage is often markedly different than the extent of the entire disturbance event (Figure 10.1 and 10.2). We can then frame the question as how much larger than the severe-damage patch does a forest ecosystem need to be to remain resilient? The maximum size of a severe-damage patch may be determined from literature and maps depicting the types and spatial patterning of historic disturbances. Each disturbance type has its own diagnostic pattern, scale, frequency and range of severity, although the documented historic events are unlikely to represent the true historic extremes or future maximums, as disturbances are on a trend of increased severity (Millennium Ecosystem Assessment 2005). The size of the severe-damage patch in relation to the size of a forest surrounding it has a profound influence on how the ecosystem accommodates and recovers from a disturbance event (Connell and Slatyer 1977). In particular, the probability that an ecosystem persists at a specific location depends upon the ability of certain features to escape destruction. Thus, providing sufficient area within a forest reserve allows disturbances to rejuvenate the ecosystem by releasing and redistributing resources as opposed to destroying their occurrence. The required area is termed the minimum dynamic area (Pickett and Thompson 1978). A straightforward way to estimate the minimum dynamic area for each disturbance type is by multiplying the maximum size of the severe-damage patch times a constant based on the relative proportion of recently disturbed forest to older forest found under natural conditions (Anderson 1999). Under presettlement conditions
Severe Damage Patch
Fig. 10.1 Severe damage patch size of hurricane disturbances at Pisgah Forest, NH. Severe damage patches are shown in grey; darker patches indicate waterbodies (from Foster 1988). Used with permission
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Severe Damage Patch
Fig. 10.2 Severe damage patches from downbursts in the Adirondacks. Severe damage patches are shown in darkest color, lighter colors indicates less severe damage (adapted from Robinson, G. and J. Zappieri, 1999). Used with permission
about 16–35% of northeast forests were disturbed or recovering from severe disturbances (Lorimer 1977, Canham and Louks 1984, Foster and Boose 1992), suggesting 25%, or a minimum of four times the severe disturbance patch size, as a guideline for scaling the occurrence size relative to the severe damage patch. This assumes that for any given area, and point in time, we would expect a quarter of the forest to be recovering from severe disturbance, and that this proportion approximates the historic pattern of disturbed to undisturbed forests in the Northeast. I illustrate the concept with an example from the forests of the northeastern United States. These forests are adapted to disturbances ranging from small and continuous (single tree-fall gap replacement) to huge and infrequent, the latter with periodic cycles of 100 years or greater (Lorimer 1977, Bormann and Likens 1979). A 300year disturbance history reconstructed for Pisgah forest in southern New Hampshire indicated that the site was subjected to four hurricanes, seven severe windstorms, 15 small fires, as well as chestnut blight, Armilleria root disease and porcupine damage (Foster 1988). Windstorms are the primary disturbance affecting Northeast forests with hurricanes having the broadest geographic extent. Since 1858, 28 major hurricanes of varying severity have swept the region (Table 10.1 HURDAT 2006). The devastating “Great New England” hurricane of 1938 extended from Long Island to Vermont cutting a 100 km by 300 km path of destruction (Foster and Boose 1992). Severe damage patches from hurricanes are much smaller than total extent. Within Pisgah forest
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Table 10.1 Summary of tornadoes and hurricanes in the Northeast over the last century State (1950–1992) Tornados by Fujita Scale
CT Total DW Total MA Total MD Total ME Total NH Total NJ Total NY Total OH Total PA Total RI Total VA Total VT Total WV Total Grand Total
F?
F0
F1
F2
F3
8 2
30 18 24 46 9 15 37 88 60 79 3 58 6 23 474
22 36 79 96 56 44 63 120 122 235 4 163 25 41 1114
5 14 32 26 18 16 24 39 57 149 1 72 3 17 490
2 1 10 4
1 3
F4
F5
2
2 4 23 23 27
2 9 19
27
6
7 133
40
1 1
2
Year
Hurricanes by Saffir-Simpson Scale SS1 SS2 SS3 SS4 States
Name
1858–1896
3
Various
1903 1916 1933 1938 1944 1953 1954 1954 1954 1955 1960 1969 1972 1976 1985 1991 2003
1 1
3
4
0
1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
NY,CT,RI,MA, VA,MD,DE,NJ,PA NJ,DE MA VA NY,CT,RI,MA GNE VA,NY,CT,RI,MA ME NY,CT,RI Carol MA,ME MD VA NY,CT,RI,MA,NH,ME ME NY,CT NY NY,CT,NH,ME RI,MA,NY,CT VA
Grand Total 67 71 147 172 83 77 128 272 272 510 8 326 35 88 2256
Carol Edna Hazel Connie Donna Gerda Agnes Belle Gloria Bob Isabel
Source: Tornado Project online 1999- ongoing, HURDAT: Atlantic basin hurricane database 2006.
damage from the 1938 hurricane left severe damage patches up to 3.25 km2 , although most were less than 10 ha (Figure 10.1; Foster 1988). Tornado damage ranges from single tree-gaps to areas of complete blow-down. The severe-damage patch size is larger than for hurricanes but destruction patterns are less correlated with local topography. Since the turn of the century, at least 2,256 tornadoes have occurred in the northeast (Table 10.1 Tornado Project 1999-ongoing). One of the worst, the tornado outbreak of 1985 in Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York, and Ontario, included 41 separate tornadoes resulting in 800 km2 of damage. Severe damage patches (tornado swaths) had an average width of 500 m and a range from
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200 m–2750 m. The largest areas of severe damage in Tionesta scenic area in Pennsylvania was 19 km by 1 km (1900 ha; Peterson and Pickett 1995). Downbursts are strong downdrafts from a thunderstorm that have a tornado-like effect. In 1995, New York’s Adirondack Park was subject to intense downbursts creating widespread blow-downs in a straight-line pattern (Robinson and Zappieri 1999; Figure 10.2). Severe damage area accounted for 7% of the 400,000 ha affected and severe damage patches ranged up to 1,388 ha in area. Fire plays a relatively minor role in Northeast forests (Heinselman 1981), and its effects are diffuse with respect to the canopy and understory. Return intervals for catastrophic forest fires in this region are long, 530–5780 years for spruce-fir, and 450–4970 years for northern hardwoods (Lorimer 1977, Fahey and Reiners 1981). Historically, total burn sizes of catastrophic fires ranged up to 32,000 ha (Lorimer 1977). Severe damage patches were much smaller; the largest reported for northern hardwoods was only 23 ha (Bormann and Likens 1979). For mixed deciduous-coniferous forest, the average sizes of severe fires in the northern regions were 20 to 61 ha (Fahey and Reiners 1981). Large conifer fires typical of boreal regions may have occurred in northern Maine and New Brunswick in areas that are now heavily cut-over, but these are not well documented and I have not included them here. Ice storm damage in Northeast forests can produce widespread breakage of limbs and trunks (Millward and Kraft 2004). However, it is rarely fatal to entire stands of trees and evidence is lacking for severe damage patches greater than a few hectares (Stoyenoff et al. 1998). Although insect pests and pathogens reach periodic outbreak levels, I could not identify a severe-damage patch size for insect damage as the effects are species-specific and vary idiosyncratically. Applying the “four-times-the-severe-damage-patch” guideline to the patch sizes given above provides minimum dynamic area estimates of 1300 ha for hurricanes, 5,665 ha for downbursts and 7,669 ha for tornadoes. Fires in northern hardwoods scaled at 92 ha. The results provide estimates of minimum dynamic area for northeastern forests relative to expected disturbances (Figure 10.3; upper half).
10.3.2 Species Requirements To estimate area requirements of forest breeding species, it is necessary to identify the set of species typical of, or restricted to, a forest type in a specific ecoregion. Published breeding territory sizes, home ranges and resource needs for characteristic species are available from several sources. Birds of North America (Poole and Gill 1992-ongoing) and New England Wildlife (DeGraff and Yamasaki 2000) are especially complete compilations that include ample references to primary sources. To address the actual size needed for an occurrence to contain multiple populations and potentially function as a source area for breeding species, I multiplied the average female territory size by 25, reflecting the so-called “50/500 rule” (Franklin 1980, Soule 1980). This guideline (developed for zoological gardens) suggests that, as a reasonable order-of-magnitude estimate, at least 50 genetically-effective individuals are necessary to conserve genetic diversity within a metapopulation over several generations (Lande 1988). In using this guideline, I assumed that the entire available habitat
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was suitable for breeding, that there was more than one protected forest occurrence and that additional breeding takes place outside of the identified forest areas. Thus, I was approximating the area needed to accommodate 25 breeding females within a single patch of a forest ecosystem rather than advocating an actual population size of 50 individuals. The ecosystem occurrences most likely to contain the full complement of their associated flora and fauna are those that provide sufficient area and resources. For instance, a 100-hectare patch of matrix-forming northern hardwood forest cannot contain viable breeding populations of all the species associated with northern hardwood forests because the patch cannot meet the simultaneous space and resource needs of each population, and that is ignoring other issues such as edge effects and predator access. I present an example for one ecoregion, the Northern Appalachians (northern sections of ME, NH, VT and the NY Adirondacks) because the analysis process is ecoregion-specific. I used information collected from within the region whenever possible but made use of data from other regions when no reliable data for the Northern Appalachians were available. Although the region contains an estimated 3,844 species of plants, vertebrates and macro-invertebrates (NatureServe 2000-ongoing) I emphasized vertebrate needs (especially birds and mammals) as they are the most spacedemanding and wide-ranging components of the forest ecosystems and presumably would include the space requirements of smaller species. Additionally, I focused on species associated with forest interior habitat as these species have the most restrictive requirements with regard to forest size (Martin and Finch 1995).
DISTURBANCE FACTORS tornadoes downbursts ice storms, hardwood fires
hurricanes
10,000 ha
FOREST OCCURRENCE SIZE
5,000 ha 1,000 ha
Northern flying squirrel amphibians Saw-whet owl inverts. Sharp-shinned plants hawk
Area sensitive songbirds, Northern goshawk
Broadwinged hawk
Pine martin
BREEDING SPECIES AREA REQUIREMENTS Fig. 10.3 Synthesis of the scaling factors used for setting size thresholds for matrix-forming communities in the Northern Appalachians
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Bird species preferring large tracts of old forests and cavity nesting, non-migratory species are particularly sensitive to habitat loss (Helle 1985, Hunter 1992). In the Northern Appalachians this includes Barred Owls (Strix varia: average breeding territory 662 ha), Northern Goshawk (Accipiter gentiles: average breeding territory 170 ha), Broad-winged Hawk (Buteo platypterus: average breeding territory 230 ha), Northern Saw-whet owl (Aegolius acadicus: average breeding territory 100 ha) and Spruce Grouse (Falcipennis canadensis: average breeding territory 84 ha). Area-sensitive songbirds that breed in this region’s forests include Black-throated Blue Warbler (Dendroica caerulescens), Blackburnian Warbler (Dendroica fusca), Canada Warbler (Wilsonia canadensis) and 12 other species (Freemark and Collins 1992). Songbirds have smaller individual territories than most owls and buteos but many prefer to nest near others of their species. To account for this, Robbins et al., (1989) developed an estimate of 3000 ha as a minimum for maintaining all forest songbirds in the Mid Atlantic region. Southern Connecticut and likely much of New England shows a similar pattern (Askins et al. 1987). Of the 51 mammals typical of the ecoregion, nine are associated with interior forest; several prefer remote, extensive tracts of mature forest; and many such as the northern flying squirrel (Glaucomys sabrinus) require mature trees or standing dead snags and cavities (DeGraff and Yamasaki 2000). One species, the American marten (Martes americana), thrives in old forests as it benefits from the presence of downed wood and coarse woody debris (Bissonette et al. 1991, Buskirk 1992).
10.3.3 Synthesis of Disturbances and Species requirements Plotting of the area requirements based on species together with the minimum dynamic areas estimates based on disturbances, illustrates the conservation implications of various sized forest patches (Figure 10.3). For instance, a 2,000 ha occurrence provides adequate space for 25 breeding pairs of northern flying squirrel, wood turtle and presumably small invertebrates but not for all area-sensitive songbirds. Additionally this size provides adequate space for disturbances caused by hurricanes or ice storms but is smaller than the severe-disturbance patches left by tornados. A 4,000 ha occurrence overcomes some of these limits but is still small relative to the patch size of larger disturbances. A forest patch must be at least 10,000 ha to: 1) absorb all types of expected severe wind and fire disturbances, 2) contain multiple breeding populations of all forest interior songbirds, and 3) contain 25 average-sized female territories of Barred Owl, Spruce Grouse, and Northern Goshawk and about 20 territories of Marten. For the Northern Appalachians, a 10,000 ha reserve covers the bulk of the forest-interior species needs and all the expected disturbances. The scaling factors reveal important order-of-magnitude relationships but must be interpreted broadly. One would not expect a sufficiently sized forest block to have exactly one-quarter of its area in recently disturbed forest nor to contain exactly 25 pairs of each characteristic species. Thus refining the precision of the two dimensions developed here (disturbance and species area requirements) might not be as useful as adding additional dimensions to the model.
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My intent was to estimate minimum sizes. Ideally, a matrix forest reserve would be larger than the minimum to accommodate increasing disturbance sizes correlated with climate change or increasing area requirements correlated with degrading forest conditions. Moreover, other values, such as habitat complexity, correlate with increased size (Simberloff 1988). Even on protected land, species loss over time correlates with the size of the area (Newmark 1987, Drayton and Primack 1996, Rooney and Dress 1997), suggesting that conservation efforts should aim higher than the minimums. Lastly, I applied the methodology presented here to huge matrix-forming forests, the largest ecosystems in the Northeast. The approach is equally applicable to smaller patchforming ecosystems such as bogs, fens or dunes. For these ecosystems, the results suggest much smaller sizes, often ranging from 5 to 500 ha. Not every conservation target requires large areas to be resilient.
10.4 Condition Size is not the only consideration in determining the resilience of a forest ecosystem and its contribution to maintaining forest biodiversity. Source habitat and thriving populations are functions of habitat quality as well as area (Thompson 2004). Thriving populations exhibit high reproductive rates and juvenile survivorship resulting in an export of juveniles to the surrounding forested landscape (i.e., source habitat, Pulliam 1988). As this process is largely dependent on available resources, smaller forest reserves can be effective in conserving forest biodiversity if they provide abundant food and shelter. Measuring the condition of a forest patch refers to an assessment of both positive and negative elements. Positive factors include well-developed soils, seed banks and forest structure. These features, collectively referred to as biological legacies, develop over centuries and reflect site continuity. Negative factors include fragmentation, alteration of natural disturbance regimes, selective species removal, and the introduction of pest species. In the Northeast, fragmentation and the resultant loss of interior habitat is perhaps the most damaging of these. The presence of biological legacies is a critical factor to assess, and one of the most difficult to restore. Perry (1994) defines legacies as anything of biological origin that persists and through its persistence helps maintain ecosystems and landscapes on a given trajectory. In forests, legacies include the presence of large fallen logs, multiple vegetation layers, a well-developed herbaceous understory and a deep reservoir of soil organic matter storing nutrients and seeds (Harmon et al. 1986, Duffy and Meier 1992). Decaying logs, for example, provide preferential establishment sites for balsam fir (Abies balsamea), yellow birch (Betula alleghaniensis), eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) and woodfern (Dryopteris intermedia) (McGee 2001). Their importance in providing moist germination beds may be extremely disproportional to their abundance (Christy and Mack 1984). Legacy features take generations to accrue but they may persist through disturbances and thus be as equally present in a young stand recovering from a recent disturbance as in a grove of ancient forest. By providing in situ resources, the presence
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of legacies following disturbance directs and facilitates the recovery of the ecosystem towards a condition resembling the pre-disturbance state. Further, legacies impart stability through time, ensuring that places accumulate soil and structure resources that increase resilience even as the forest fluctuates in the details of species composition and abundance (Perry 1994). Some legacies, such as large coarse woody debris, are the defining feature that separate forests managed for extraction from naturally disturbed stands where debris accumulates (Hansen et al. 1991). Thus, conservation strategies that promote site continuity and replenish biological legacies offer a way to ensure resilience and mitigate against future uncertainties. Biological legacies increase diversity in addition to bolstering resilience. For instance, large moisture-storing logs both reduce the severity of fires and provide refuges for salamanders, fungi and other organisms. Insects such as the ant-like litter beetles (family Pselaphidae) are more abundant and species-rich in old forests with rotting logs and deep leaf litter (Chandler 1987). Breeding bird densities are significantly higher in old forests with abundant large snags and multiple vegetation layers than in similar forest types managed for timber production (Haney and Schaadt 1996). Epiphitic lichen flora, are richer and denser on old trees with rough irregular bark (Selva 1996). In the Northeast where forests are recovering from regional scale deforestation, followed by a century of selective harvesting, the lack of legacies is notable. Thus, there is a need for reserves focused on ecosystem restoration. The typical forest stands exhibit a simplified forest structure, an absence of coarse woody debris, poor understory development, thin depleted soils and a homogenized composition. Restoring legacy features to their natural quantities may put conservation needs in conflict with harvest levels required by the economics of working forests. Large reserves however, by operating as source habitat for interior species, can enhance the biodiversity of the surrounding landscape even in regions intensively managed for timber. In addition, current research is investigating ways to increase or retain legacy features such as leaving old trees and dead snags while harvesting or adding logs to forest streams (Kohm and Franklin 1997, Nislow et al., in press). Given the historic situation it is difficult to prescribe the quantities needed for any given legacy feature to maintain a resilient forest. One approach is to use the amounts found in existing old growth forest stands as an estimate of quantities expected under unmanaged condition. In old-growth Northern Hardwood forests the quantities of standing snags (60 per ha) or decaying logs (138 per ha) are striking (McGee et al. 1999, Table 10.2). Studies for other forest types in the Northeast are needed, as is more descriptive information on basic processes such as log decomposition rates, turnover time and the transformation losses of coarse debris into soil organic matter. Besides simplification, the fragmentation of contiguous forest into smaller units is perhaps the most pervasive and severe stress leading to lower diversity and poor regeneration although reduced productivity and other symptoms of stress are widespread (Rapport et al. 1985). Fragmenting features like roads, powerlines and trails create linear “edge” corridors that subdivide homogenous areas into smaller units even though they do not constitute large areas of contrasting habitat (Figure 10.4). Even small dirt roads can facilitate the movement of ground predators and invasive pests (Getz et al. 1978, Wilcox and Murphy 1989, Panetta and Hopkins 1992). Larger roads may be channels for dust, chemical pollutants, salt, and noise (Ferris 1979).
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Table 10.2 Quantities of some biological legacy features in old growth Northern Hardwood Forests based on six stands in the Adirondacks Structural Attributes
Structural Feature
Density #/ha
Range #/ha 345–470
Large Diameter trees DBH > 50 CM Trees with special features (cavities etc)
392 +/− 46 55 ?
Large (> 50 cm DBH) Medium (25–50 cm DBH) Small (0–25 cm DBH)
60 +/− 22 18 +/− 7 19 +/− 12 22 +/− 23
35–80 10–25 10–40 0–50
Large (> 50 cm DBH) Medium (25–50 cm DBH) Small (10–25 cm DBH) Very small (1–9 cm DBH)
138 +/− 22 23 +/−11 70 +/− 18 30 +/−7 14 +/− 4
120–179 5–34 48–96 23–39 10–22
Live trees
Standing snags
Logs
(Source: McGee et al. 1999)
CONDUITS / ACCESS Exotics
Interior Core Area
Predators Pathogens Logging Salt/dust Noise Growth Development Wind
Fig. 10.4 Roads and other fragmenting features subdivide contiguous areas into smaller patches allowing access into regions that were formerly interior habitat. The result is a decrease in the total amount of interior habitat
As conduits, fragmenting features allow access of noise, predators and pests into the forest interior, decreasing the amount of true interior habitat. The small patch sizes resulting from fragmentation correlates with reduced pairing success (Gibbs and Faaborg 1990, Villard et al. 1993), inadequate foraging sites (Burke and Nol 1998), increased resource competition (Ambuel and Temple 1983), and increased nest vulnerability (reviews in Brittingham and Temple 1983, Paton 1994, Hartley and Hunter 1997). Roads also act as a barrier between patches, the degree being a function of their width, surface, and traffic volume. The tendency of a species to cross a road increases with body size as beetles and spiders rarely cross 2-lane roads, while 15–30 m roadways inhibit small mammals and amphibian movements (Hodson 1966, Oxley et al. 1974, Forman and Alexander 1998). Mid-size mammals will cross roads up to 30 m wide but rarely ones over 100 m (Oxley et al. 1974). The cumulative effect of
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fragmenting features is a selective filter against species that are naturally rare, have low reproductive rates, are poor dispersers, or that are wide ranging and dependent on patchy resources (Meffe and Carroll 1994). Thus, increased fragmentation reduces the effective size of a forest patch and reduces the ability of the patch to maintain biodiversity. With these factors in mind, plans for the desired future condition of forest reserves should include goals for restoring legacy features and minimizing internal fragmentation.
10.5 Landscape Context The previous sections have focused on the individual forest patch or a forest ecosystem occurrence at the scale of 1000 to 100,000 hectares highlighting the need for forest reserves that conserve entire forest ecosystems with all their structure and biodiversity. Maintaining forest cover at the regional scale of 10 million to 100 million hectares is also crucial to sustaining disturbance processes and large-scale functions. Fundamental ecological properties such as solar reflectance, evapo-transpiration rates, and hydrologic attributes like snow-melt cycles, flood intervals and stream temperatures, are determined by the degree of canopy cover across the region. Thus, considering the size and condition of individual forest patches is not sufficient. Research addressing the role of natural land-cover in facilitating species movements between habitat patches is considerable but the results have not been univocal (reviews in Hobbs 1992, Rosenburg et al. 1997, Beier and Noss 1998, Harrison and Bruna 1999). On one hand, mathematical models predict that a small amount of linking corridors between isolated habitat patches might prevent the extinction of many species by allowing immigration and recolonization to continue (Harrison 1994, McCullough 1996). This point is supported by some controlled experiments where connected habitats maintain a greater diversity of insects and plants (Quinn and Robinson 1987, Gilbert et al. 1998, Holt et al. 1995), but how the experimental results transfer to real landscapes is still a question. Although evidence indicates that large and small mammals as well as birds and butterflies will use corridors (Beier 1995, Differdorfer et al. 1995, Dunning et al. 1995, Schmiegelow et al. 1997, Dooley and Bowers 1998, Haddad 2000, Sweanor et al. 2000), these species move across non-corridor areas as well. It is uncertain if species use corridors more than non-corridors, and if the movements actually contribute to maintaining viable populations. Some scientists argue that threat abatement, such as limiting hunting in conservation zones between habitats, might be more effective in facilitating dispersal than trying to channelize the movement itself (Harrison and Bruna 1999). The effects of connectivity are confounded with habitat loss. In general, connected reserves do show improved ecological functions, but small, connected habitats are not equivalent to larger contiguous habitats due to the compounding effects of isolation and fragmentation on forest ecosystems. A forest island in a sea of development and agriculture is subject to increased windstorms, higher temperatures, and easy predator access resulting in soil dessication, resource depletion and higher mortality rates (Ambuel and Temple 1983). Moreover, while the effects of connectivity and spatial
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configuration are subtle and difficult to interpret, those of decreased habitat are large, direct and consistent (Fahrig 1998, Summerville and Crist 2001), and there is incontrovertible evidence for local biodiversity declines in isolated reserves (Drayton and Primack 1996). In spite of uncertainties about species movements, the value of forest cover with respect to isolation, and large scale ecological functions at the landscape scale suggest that, at this scale, the quantity, not quality, of forest cover is the essential property to maintain. From this perspective, well-executed timber harvests are compatible with the long-term maintenance of forest cover at regional scales. Moreover, economically viable timber harvesting may be the best strategy for maintaining cover at this scale, and management practices that preserve more of the biodiversity value of forested lands without decreasing economic value are emerging (Kohm and Franklin 1997, Ginn 2005; see also Foster and Labich, Chapter 12 in this volume). There are several remaining regions in the Northeast where contiguous forest cover over 80% extends across areas of 200,000 ha areas or more (Figure 10.5). These landscapes are areas where forest conservation could be implemented at the subregional scale, working with people and industry to prevent fragmentation and to maintain critical connections. A reasonable goal would be to maintain these areas at 80% or more forest cover through timber management while securing them against conver-
Fig. 10.5 Areas over 200,000 ha with 80% or greater contiguous natural cover. This map was created by overlaying 10,000 ha hexagon-shaped cells on a compiled land cover map of the United States and Canada. Adjacent cells with 80% of higher natural land cover were aggregated to form the contiguous blocks. The blocks are dominated by forest cover except Block 3 which is dominated by coastal salt-marsh
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sion to development using permanent easements. Currently about 18% of the area is secured against conversion with most of that being owned by federal, provincial or state governments.
10.6 Final Summary Combating the problems that accompany increased isolation and sorting out the tradeoffs between maintaining forest cover and restoring forest ecosystems in large reserves is a key to conserving all forest biodiversity. The twin strategies of 1) large reserves, focused on restoring full ecosystems of sufficient size and condition to maintain their inherent biodiversity and 2) the maintenance of forest cover at the landscape scale through management that allows regional-scale processes to continue, are complementary. Both are critical to biodiversity conservation and one does not substitute for the other (Lindenmayer and Franklin 2002). The framework presented here offers a clear and transparent approach for assessing the implications of reserve size, condition and landscape context. In practice, conservation organizations emphasize each of the three criteria at slightly different stages of a forest conservation plan. In The Nature Conservancy’s Eastern Region, the size minimums are used extensively in selecting key areas for forest conservation and restoration. When a forest reserve area is identified, or purchased, measurable goals for the desired future condition are based on restoring legacy features and minimizing internal fragmentation. Landscape context criteria are incorporated into forest easements and standards for best management practices applied to land adjacent to the reserve. The use of these criteria has highlighted the need to monitor large forest ownerships to track change over time to verify or refute the assumptions developed here and adjust strategies appropriately. For further information on the method and The Nature Conservancy’s ecoregional assessments go to
[email protected]/ECS. Acknowledgments All, or parts, of this document benefited from review and comment from the following people: Jean Andersen, Kim Babbitt, Rodney Bartgis, Ashton Berdine, Frank Biasi, Patrick Bourgeron, Steve Buttrick, Connie Carpenter, Pat Comer, Frank Davis, Tony Davis, Bob Eckert, Don Faber-Langendoen, Jean Fike, Sue Gawler, Denny Grossman, Craig Groves, Tina Hall, David Hunt, Mac Hunter, Deborah Jensen, Tom Lee, Frank Lowenstein, Julie Lundgren, Karen Poiani, Dave Mehlmen, Mike Merrill, Ken Metzler, Reed Noss, Cathy Regan, Marian Reid, Carol Reschke, John Roe, Mike Schafale, Rick Schneider, Loring Schwarz, Mark Shaffer, Marie-Lousie Smith, Lesley Sneddon, Eric Sorenson, Dan Sperduto, Mike Stevens, Pat Swain, Jim Taylor, Elizabeth Thompson, Jim Thorn, Jeff Wagner, Dean Walton, Barbara Vickery, and Alan Weakley. Special thanks to John Wiens for his critique of an early draft and an anonymous reviewer for insightful comments on the initial manuscript.
References Ambuel, B., & Temple, S.A. (1983). Area dependent changes in the bird communities and vegetation of southern Wisconsin forests. Ecology, 64, 1057–1068. Anderson, M.G. (1999). Viability and spatial assessment of ecological communities in the Northern Appalachian ecoregion. Dissertation, Durham, NH: University of New Hampshire.
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Askins, R.A., Philbrick, M.J., Sugeno, D.S. (1987). Relationship between the regional abundance of forest and the composition of forest bird communities. Biology Conservation, 39, 129–152. Beier, P. (1995). Dispersal of juvenile cougars in fragmented habitat. Journal of Wildlife Management, 59, 228–237. Beier, P., & Noss, R.F. (1998). Do habitat corridors provide connectivity? Conservation Biology, 12, 1241–1252. Bissonette, J.A., Fredrickson, R.J., Tucker, B.J. (1991). American marten: a case for landscape-level management. In J.E. Rodiek & E.G. Bolen (Eds.), Wildlife and habitats in managed landscapes. Washington, DC: Island Press. Bormann, F.H., & Likens, G.E. (1979). Pattern and process in a forested ecosystem. New York: Springer-Verlag. Brittingham, M.C., & Temple, S.A. (1983). Have cowbirds caused forest songbirds to decline? BioScience, 33, 31–35. Burke, D.M., & Nol, E. (1998). Influence of food abundance, nest-site habitat, and forest fragmentation on breeding ovenbirds. Auk, 115(1), 96–104. Buskirk, S.W. (1992). Conserving circumboreal forests for martens and fishers. Conservation Biology, 6, 318–320. Canham, C.D., & Louks, O.L. (1984). Catastrophic windthrow in the presettlement forests of Wisconsin. Ecology, 65, 803–809. Chandler, D.S. (1987). Species richness and abundance of Pselaphidae (Coleoptera) in old-growth and 40-year-old forests in New Hampshire. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 65, 608–615. Christy, E.J., & Mack, R.N. (1984). Variation in demography of juvenile Tsuga heterophylla across the substratum mosaic. Journal of Ecology, 72, 75–91. Connell, J.H., & Slatyer, R.O. (1977). Mechanisms of succession in natural communities and their role in community stability and organization. American Naturalist, 111, 1119–1144. DeGraff, R.M., & Yamasaki, M. (2000). New England wildlife: habitat, natural history and distribution. New England Press. Diffendorfer, J.E., Gaines,M.S., and Holt, R.D. (1995). Habitat fragmentation and movements of three small mammals (Sigmodon, Microtus and Peromyscus). Ecology, 76, 822–839. Dooley, J.L., & Bowers, M.A. (1998). Demographic responses to habitat fragmentation: experimental tests at the landscape and patch scale. Ecology, 79, 969–980. Drayton, B., & Primack, R.B. (1996). Plant species lost in an isolated conservation area in metropolitan Boston from 1894 to 1993. Conservation Biology, 10, 30–39. Duffy, D.C., & Meier, A.J. (1992). Do Appalachian herbaceous understories ever recover from clearcutting? Conservation Biology, 6, 196–201. Dunning, J.B., Borgella, R., Clements, K., Meffe, G.K. (1995). Patch isolation, corridor effects and colonization by a resident sparrow in a managed pine woodland. Conservation Biology, 9, 542–550. Fahey, T.J., & Reiners, W.A. (1981). Fire in the forests of Maine and New Hampshire. Bulletin of the Torrey Botanical Club, 8(3), 362–373. Fahrig, L. (1998). When does fragmentation of breeding habitat affect population survival? Ecol. Model, 105, 273–292. Falinski, J.B. (1986). Vegetation dynamics in temperate lowland primeval forests: ecological studies in Bialowieza Forest. Dordrecht: W. Junk Publishers. Ferris, C.R. (1979). Effects of Interstate 95 on breeding birds in northern Maine. Journal of Wildlife Management, 43, 421–427. Forman, R.T.T., & Alexander, L.E. (1998). Roads and their major ecological effects. Annual Review Ecol. Syst., 29, 207–231. Foster, D.R. (1988) Disturbance history, community organization and vegetation dynamics of the old-growth Pisgah forest, southwest New Hampshire, U.S.A. Journal of Ecology, 76, 105–143. Foster, D.R., & Boose, E.R. (1992). Patterns of forest damage resulting from catastrophic wind in central New England. Journal of Ecology, 1980, 79–98. Foster, D.R., & O’Keefe, J. (2000). New England forests through time: insights from the Harvard Forest dioramas. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.
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Franklin, J.F. (1980). Evolutionary change in small populations. M.E. Soule & D.A. Wilcox (Eds.), Conservation biology: an ecological-evolutionary perspective. Sunderland, Massachusetts: Sinauer Association. Franklin, J.F. (1993). Preserving biodiversity: species, ecosystems, or landscapes? Ecological Applications, 3, 202–205. Freemark, K., & Collins, B. (1992). Landscape ecology of birds breeding in temperate forest fragments. J.M. Hagen & D.W. Johnston (Eds.), Ecology and conservation of Neotropical migrant landbirds. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Getz, L.L., Cole, F.R., Gates, D.L. (1978). Interstates roadsides as dispersal routes for Microtus pennsylvanicus. Journal of Mammalogy, 59, 208–212. Gibbs, J.P., & Faaborg, J. (1990). Estimating the viability of Ovenbird and Kentucky Warbler populations in forest fragments. Conservation Biology, 4(2), 193–196. Gilbert, F., Gonzales, A., Evans-Freke, I. (1998). Corridors maintain species richness in the fragmented landscapes of a microecosystem. Proc. R. Soc. Lond. B., 265, 577–582. Ginn,W.J. (2005). Investing in nature: case studies of land conservation in collaboration with business. Washington, DC: Island Press. Haddad, N. (2000). Corridor length and patch colonization by a butterfly, Junonia coenia. Conservation Biology, 14(3), 738–745. Haney, J.C., & Schaadt, C.P. (1996). Functional role of eastern old-growth in promoting forest bird diversity. In M.B. Davis (Ed.), Eastern old-growth forests: prospects for rediscovery and recovery. Washington, DC: Island Press. Hansen, A.J., Spies, T.A., Swanson, F.J., Ohman, J.L. (1991). Conserving biodiversity in managed forests. Bioscience, 41(6), 382–392. Harmon, M.E., Franklin, J.F., Sanson, F.J. et al. (1986). Ecology of coarse woody debris in temperate ecosystems. Advanced Ecology Resources, 15, 133–302. Harrison, S. (1994). Metapopulations and conservation. In P.J. Edwards, N.R. Webb, R.M. May, (Eds.), Large-scale ecology and conservation biology (pp. 111–128). Blackwell. Harrison, S., & Bruna, E. (1999). Habitat fragmentation and large scale conservation: what do we know for sure? Ecograph., 22, 225–232. Hartley, M.J., & M.L. Hunter, Jr. (1997). A meta-analysis of forest cover, edge effects, and artificial nest predation rates. Conservation Biology, 12(2), 465–469. Heinselman, M.L. (1981). Fire and the distribution and structure of northern ecosystems. In H. Mooney, J.W. Bonnicksen, N.L. Christensen, J.E. Lotan, W.A. Reiners (Eds.), Fire regimes and ecosystem properties. General tech. report. Washington DC: USDA Forest Service. Helle, P. (1985). Effects of forest fragmentation on bird densities in northern boreal forests. Ornis, Fenn., 62, 35–41. Hobbs, R.J. (1992). The role of corridors in conservation: solution or bandwagon? Trends Ecol. Evol., 7(11), 389–391. Hodson, N.L. (1966). A survey of road mortality in mammals (and including data for the grass snake and common frog). Journal of Zoology (London), 148, 576–579. Holling, C.S. (1973). Resilience and stability of ecological systems. Annual Review of Ecol. and Syst., 4, 1–23. Holt, R.D., Robinson, G., Gaines, M.S. (1995). Vegetation dynamics in an experimentally fragmented landscape. Ecology, 76, 1610–1624. HURDAT: Atlantic basin hurricane database. (2006). Chronological list of all hurricanes which affected the Continental United States: 1851–2006. http://www.aoml.noaa.gov/ hrd/hurdat/ushurrlist.htm. Hunter Jr., M.L. (1991). Coping with ignorance: the coarse filter strategy for maintaining biodiversity. In L.A. Kohm (Ed.), Balancing on the brink of extinction. Washington, DC: Island Press. Hunter Jr., M.L. (1992). Paleoecology, landscape ecology, and the conservation of neotropical migrant passerines in boreal forests. J. Hagan & D. Johnson (Eds.), Ecology and conservation of neotropical migrant landbirds (pp. 608) Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Kohm, K.A., & Franklin, J.F. (Eds.) (1997). Creating a forestry for the 21st Century: the science of ecosystem management. Washington, DC: Island Press. Lande, R. (1988). Genetics and demography in biological conservation. Science, 241, 1455–1460.
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Lindenmayer, D.B., & Franklin, J.F. (2002). Conserving forest biodiversity: a comprehensive multiscaled approach. Washington, DC: Island Press. Lorimer, C.G. (1977). The presettlement forest and natural disturbance cycle of northeastern Maine. Ecology, 58, 139–148. Martin, T.E., & Finch, D.M. (Eds.) (1995). Ecology and management of neotropical migratory birds: a synthesis and review of critical issues. New York: Oxford Press. McCullough, D.R. (1996). Metapopulations and wildlife conservation. Washington, DC: Island Press. McGee, G.G. (2001). Stand-level effects on the role of decaying logs as vascular plant habitat in Adirondack northern hardwood forests. Journal of Torr Bot Soc., 128, 4 (370–380). McGee, G.G., Leopold, D.J., Nyland, R.D. (1999). Structural characteristics of old-growth, maturing, and partially cut northern hardwood forests. Eco Appl., 9(4), 1316–1329. Meffe, G.K., & Carroll, C.R. (1994). Principles of conservation biology. Sunderland, MA: Sinauer Associates. Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (2005). Ecosystems and human well-being: biodiversity synthesis. Washington, DC: World Resources Institute. Millward, A.W., & Kraft, C.E. (2004). Physical influences of landscape on a large-extent ecological disturbance: the northeastern North American ice storm of 1998. Landscape Ecol., 19, 99–111. NatureServe Explorer 2000-ongoing. Online encyclopedia of plants, animals and ecosystems of the U.S. and Canada. http://www.natureserve.org/explorer. Newmark, W.D. (1987). A land-bridge island perspective on mammalian extinctions in western North American parks. Nature, 325, 430–432. Nislow, K., Roy, S., Folt, C. In press. Effects of large wood additions in Northeast U.S. streams. Northeast Forest Experiment Station, US Forest Service, Univ. of Massachusetts, Amherst. Noss, R.F. (1987). From plant communities to landscapes in conservation inventories: a look at The Nature Conservancy (USA). Biological Conservation, 41, 11–37. Orians, G.H. (1975). Diversity, stability and maturity in natural ecosystems. In V.H. von Dobben & R.H. Lowe-McConnell (Eds.), Unifying concepts in ecology (pp. 139–150). The Hague, Netherlands: W. Junk Publishers. Oxley, D.J., Fenton, M.B., Carmody, G.R. (1974). The effects of roads on populations of small mammals. J. Appl. Ecol., 11, 51–59. Panetta, F.D., & Hopkins, A.J.M. (1992). Weeds in corridors: invasion and management. In D.A. Saunders & R.J. Hobbs, (Eds.), Nature conservation 2: the role of corridors. Chipping Norton, Australia. Paton, P.W.C. (1994). The effect of edge on avian nest success: how strong is the evidence? Conservation Biology, 8, 17–26. Perry, D.A. (1994). Forest Ecosystems. Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins University Press. Peterson, C.J., & Pickett, S.T.A. (1995). Forest reorganization: a case study in an old growth forest catastrophic blowdown. Ecology, 76, 763–774. Pickett, S.T.A., & Thompson, J.N. (1978). Patch dynamics and the size of nature reserves. Biological Conservation, 13, 27–37. Poiani, K.A., Richter, B.D., Anderson, M.G., Richter, H.E. (2000). Biodiversity conservation at multiple scales. BioScience, 50(2), 133–146. Poole, A., Gill, F. (Eds.) (1992-ongoing). Birds of North America No 1–600. Philadelphia: The American Ornithologist’s Union; Washington, DC: The Academy of Natural Sciences. Pulliam, H.R. (1988). Sources, sinks, and population regulation. American Naturalist, 132, 652–661. Quinn, J.F., & Robinson, G.R. (1987). The effects of experimental subdivision on flowering plant diversity in a California annual grasslands. J. Ecol., 75, 837–856. Rapport, D.J., Regier, H.A., Hutchinson, T.C. (1985). Ecosystem behavior under stress. Am. Nat., 125, 617:640. Regier, H.A., & Baskerville, G.L. (1986). Sustainable redevelopment of regional ecosystems degraded by exploitative development. In W.C. Clark & R.E. Munn (Eds.), Sustainable development of the biosphere (pp. 76–100). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Robbins, C.S., Dawson, D.K., Dowell, B.A. (1989). Habitat area requirements of breeding forest birds of the Middle Atlantic states. Wildlife Monographs, 103, 1–34.
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Robinson, G.R., & Zappieri, J. (1999). Biodiversity policy in time and space: lessons from divergent approaches to salvage logging on public lands. Conservation Ecology, Volume 3, on line (URL: http://www.consecol.org/Journal/vol3/iss1/art3). Rooney, T.P., & Dress, W.J. (1997). Species loss over sixty-six years in the ground layer vegetation of Heart’s Content, an old-growth forest in Pennsylvania, USA. Natural Areas Journal, 17, 297–305. Rosenberg, D.K., Noon, B.R. Meslow, E.C. (1997). Biological corridors: form, function and efficacy. Bioscience, 47, 677–687. Schmiegelow, F.K.A., Machtans, C.S., Hannon, S.J. (1997). Are boreal birds resilient to forest fragmentation? An experimental study on short-term community responses. Ecology, 78, 1914–1932. Selva, S. (1996). Using lichens to assess ecological continuity in northeastern forests. In M.B. Davis (Ed.), Eastern old-growth forests, prospects for rediscovery and recovery (pp. 383). Washington DC: Island Press. Simberloff, D.S. (1988). The contribution of population and community biology to conservation science. Annual Review Ecol. Syst., 19, 473–511. Soule, M.E. (1980). Thresholds for survival: maintaining fitness and evolutionary potential. In M.E. Soule & D.A. Wilcox (Eds.), Conservation biology: an ecological-evolutionary perspective. Sunderland, Massachusetts: Sinauer Association. Steele, R.C., & Welch, R.C. (Eds.). (1973). Monks Wood: a nature reserve record. Huntingdon: Natural Environment Research Council. Stoyenoff, J., Witter, J., Leutscher, B. (1998). Forest health in the New England States and New York. Unnumbered publication. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan, School of Natural Resources and Environment. Summerville, K.S., & Crist, T.O. (2001). Effects of experimental habitat fragmentation on patch use by butterflies and skippers (Lepidotera). Ecology, 82(5), 1369–1370. Sweanor, L.L., Logan, K.A. Hornocker, M.G. (2000). Cougar dispersal patterns, metapopulation dynamics and conservation. Conservation Biology, 14(3), 798–808. Thompson, I.D. (2004). The importance of superior quality wildlife habitats. The Forestry Chronicle, 80(1), 75–81. Tornado Project Online. (1999-ongoing). St. Johnsbury, VT. http://www.tornadoproject.com/ Villard, M., Martin, P.R., Drummond, C.G. (1993). Habitat fragmentation and pairing success in the Ovenbird (Seiurus aurocapillus). Auk., 110(4), 759–768. Wilcox, B.A., & Murphy, D.D. (1989). Migration and control of purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria L.) along highway corridors. Environmental Management, 13, 365–370. Wilson, E.O. (1987). The little things that run the world (the importance and conservation of invertebrates). Conservation Biology, 1(4), 344–346.
Chapter 11
Restoring America’s Everglades: A Lobbyist’s Perspective April H. G. Smith
Abstract The Greater Everglades Ecosystem is one of the most ecologically significant wetlands on earth, and is one of the most biologically diverse areas in the world. It is also an international center for business, agriculture, and tourism, with a rapidly growing population of varied ethnic, economic, and social values – all dependent on a fully functioning Everglades ecosystem for an adequate freshwater supply, a healthy and sustainable economy, and overall quality of life. Due to the combined effects of water mismanagement and urban and agricultural pollution, the Everglades ecosystem is among the most endangered ecosystems in the world. Everglades restoration will repair much of the damage from drainage and development, bringing back the wading birds that once filled the South Florida landscape and restoring hundreds of thousands of acres of wetlands and estuarine habitat. Restoring America’s Everglades is one of Audubon’s highest priorities. Audubon public policy experts are at the forefront of changing political will in favor of restoration of our natural ecosystems. “Perhaps even in this last hour, in a new relation of usefulness and beauty, the vast, magnificent, subtle and unique region of the Everglades may not be utterly lost.”– Marjory Stoneman Douglas1
11.1 Introduction: What Restoration of the Everglades Means The greater Everglades, an 18,000 square mile subtropical ecosystem, has the highest biological diversity value of any similarly sized area in the continental United States (Figure 11.1). Recognized as a wetland of international significance, the Everglades2 is home to some of the world’s most distinctive plants and animals. It is also a flyway for millions of migratory songbirds. The decline of the once widespread flocks of wading birds was the first sign that the Everglades ecosystem was threatened. Birdlife still serves as an indicator of ecological health. A principal indicator of success for Everglades restoration will be the return of abundant bird populations.3 If successful, Everglades restoration will repair much of the ecological damage that resulted from drainage and development, restoring hundreds of thousands of acres of wetland and estuarine habitat, and bringing back the wading birds that once filled the South Florida landscape (Figure 11.2). Restoration projects will benefit federal and Florida conservation lands totaling nearly three and a half million acres and contribute to South Florida’s ecosystem-based economy. R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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Fig. 11.1 Aerial photograph of south Florida showing the Everglades. The boundary line indicates the South Florida Water Management District Source: South Florida Water Management District
Restoration efforts will attempt to recreate, maximize, and protect a healthy, selfsustaining mosaic of ecological communities that mirrors the unique diversity of the historic Everglades ecosystem. This involves protecting and expanding the current spatial extent of South Florida’s natural areas, restoring lost habitat types, reestablishing connections among ecological communities to reduce fragmentation, and creating buffer zones between developed and natural areas. Restoration of land to more natural conditions will be accomplished by reestablishing sustainable populations of native plants and animals; maximizing the connections among ecological communities; removing invasive, non-native plants and animals (e.g., Burmese python); and reducing nuisance native species (e.g., cattails) to the extent that they do not affect the Everglades ecosystem.4
11.2 Background: The Case for Restoring the Everglades The Everglades is a world-renowned ecosystem and America’s premiere wetland wilderness. The Everglades ecosystem begins in the Kissimmee River Valley and continues through Lake Okeechobee, the Everglades Protection Area, and finally to
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Fig. 11.2 Great Egret. Photograph by Charles Lee. Printed with permission
Florida Bay and the Keys.5 It is a Ramsar Wetland of International Importance6 , an International Biosphere Reserve7 , and a World Heritage Site8 . “There is no other place else like [it] in the world. But the Everglades [is] dying.”9 “We must act now, and act aggressively, if we are to save this special place.”10 [T]he Everglades . . .provide[s] not only habitat for a rich abundance of animal life but also serve[s] other important functions. Inland fresh water marshes reduce the danger of floods by collecting rainwater runoff, storing it, and releasing it over long periods of time. The effects of droughts are often offset by the quantity of water that is stored as groundwater or in shallow marshes during the normal wet seasons. Wetlands clean water by removing organic and inorganic nutrients and toxic materials from water that flows across them. Fresh water wetlands release water into aquifers for storage. The Everglades wetlands play key roles in forming rich soils for agriculture, in maintaining major commercial and sport fisheries, and in supporting the state’s all-important tourism industry.11
Beginning in the early 1900s, the Everglades was ditched and diked to drain wetlands for agricultural and urban development. A massive civil works project known as the Central and Southern Florida Flood Control Project (C&SF Project)12 was initiated following massive loss of life from devastating hurricanes in the late 1940s.13 The C&SF Project had the unintended consequence of nearly destroying South Florida’s natural infrastructure. The spatial extent of the Everglades has been reduced by 50 percent, and water flows to the remaining Everglades have been reduced by 70 percent.14 The degradation of the Everglades is evidenced by the 69 endangered and threatened species and 19 candidate species that call it home.15 As a result of the recognition of this extreme degradation, Congress initiated the C&SF Project Comprehensive Review Study (C&SF Project Restudy) for the purpose of restoring the Everglades.16 This study resulted in the Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP).17 The plan’s primary objectives are to establish the proper
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quantity, quality, timing, and distribution of water throughout the Everglades system.18 The three keys to Everglades restoration are storing water to increase the amount available, reducing water pollution from agricultural and urban runoff, and reconnecting this segmented ecosystem. It is important to note, however, “the restored Everglades of the future – made possible by the recommended plan – will be different from any former version of the Everglades.”19 Everglades restoration is arguably the largest ecosystem restoration project in history.20 It will cost at least $15.4 billion, and take more than 40 years.21 “[T]his [$15.4 billion]22 investment is overshadowed by the benefits to Florida and to our nation of a restored ecosystem and a sustainable economy.”23 South Florida’s sole source of drinking water, the Biscayne Aquifer, is fed by the Everglades, making this ecosystem essential to a healthy, sustainable economy and overall quality of life.24 Additionally, the Everglades is a top tourist destination, helping to fuel a $20 billion tourism industry.25 The CERP has broad-based support. Plans are underway to implement this massive public works project and tremendous effort has already been invested. Federal, tribal, state, and local partners worked together for more than three years to develop the CERP. According to the multi-agency CERP Implementation Principles and Guidelines, “We recognize that this is an ecosystem in peril, and time is of the essence. Implementation of the restoration, as scheduled, will provide substantial hydrologic, water quality, and ecological benefits to the ecosystem by the year 2010. Throughout the implementation phase we will improve and expedite projects whenever possible.”26
11.3 Multi-Jurisdictional Governance: Unprecedented Partnership Required The Everglades ecosystem is governed by the federal government, the State of Florida, the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida, and the Seminole Tribe of Florida. Federal conservation areas include Everglades National Park, Biscayne National Park, Big Cypress National Preserve, Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary, and 16 units of the National Wildlife Refuge System.27 State conservation areas include numerous state parks, preserves, and wildlife refuges. Additionally, the Everglades eco-region includes all or part of 16 counties,28 five regional planning councils, and the South Florida Water Management District (SFWMD).29 Implementation of the CERP is a partnership between the State of Florida and the United States of America, including a 50/50 cost share agreement authorized through the Water Resources Development Act (WRDA) of 1996.30 The 50/50 partnership between the federal government and the State of Florida for all aspects of Everglades restoration is unprecedented. The Everglades is a model for future environmental restoration projects and for reversing the unforeseen consequences of a decades-old U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Corps) project, as equal partners with the state. To reiterate the insightful words of former Senator Bob Graham, “Everglades restoration depends on a strong federal-state partnership in which each partner needs to have trust and respect for the other.”31
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11.3.1 The Process and the Players: Governmental Cooperation and Consensus-Building 11.3.1.1 Water Resources Development Act (WRDA) and the C&SF Project Restudy Everglades restoration began in earnest with WRDA 1992, when Congress directed the Corps to conduct the C&SF Project Restudy.32 The C&SF Project was originally constructed in 1948.33 The C&SF Project’s original objectives of drainage and flood control were accomplished, but the system is outgrown and outdated, as it was designed to accommodate less than a third of the current population of South Florida.34 Tragically, the project also had the unintended and detrimental consequence of destroying the Everglades ecosystem.35 Congress authorized the Corps to begin the process of reversing the damage caused by the C&SF Project by developing a comprehensive plan. The purpose of the comprehensive plan as stated in WRDA 1996 was as follows: “The Secretary [of the Army] shall develop, as expeditiously as practicable, a proposed comprehensive plan for the purpose of restoring, preserving, and protecting the South Florida ecosystem.”36 11.3.1.2 The South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force In 1993, the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force (Task Force) was created by interagency agreement, to serve as a coordinating body for the 14 federal entities involved in the restoration.37 The Task Force is chaired by the Secretary of the Interior. In WRDA 1996, the Task Force was expanded to include state, local, and tribal representatives and was charged with, inter alia, providing recommendations to the Secretary of the Army during the development of the CERP and coordinating the development of consistent policies, strategies, plans, programs, projects, activities, and priorities for addressing the restoration, preservation, and protection of the South Florida ecosystem.38 11.3.1.3 The Governor’s Commission for a Sustainable South Florida The Governor’s Commission for a Sustainable South Florida (Commission) was created by executive order on March 3rd , 1994 by the late Governor Lawton Chiles to serve as a voice for the many state agencies and stakeholders.39 The Commission was a broad-based stakeholder body charged with developing recommendations, through a consensus-building process, aimed at balancing environmental, social, and economic interests for a sustainable South Florida.40 Critical to the success of the Commission was the use of professional facilitation through the Florida Conflict Resolution Consortium to guide an intensive process to reach unanimous consensus. The process established an unprecedented sense of reciprocal trust and common commitment. One of the Commission’s first findings was that South Florida, on its present course, is not sustainable.41 Additionally, the Commission recognized that the environment, the economy, and society were intrinsically interconnected and interdependent.42 As a result of these findings, the import and urgency of Everglades restoration became apparent to the Commission.
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As an advisory body to the Task Force, the Commission was asked to consider the C&SF Project Restudy and provide consensus-based recommendations. The Conceptual Plan for the C&SF Project Restudy was the result of approximately 16 months of intensive work by the Commission. It was passed by unanimous consensus, became the framework for the Comprehensive Plan, and was codified in WRDA 1996.43 Subsequently, the Commission completed more that a dozen consensus works, the majority dealing with Everglades restoration.44 Restoration of the Everglades is essential to achieving a sustainable future for South Florida.
11.3.1.4 The Restudy Team: State, Federal, and Tribal Partners for Progress In 1995, an interdisciplinary, multi-agency team was assembled to address the complex issues involved in restoring the Everglades. The team included engineers, planners, biologists, ecologists, economists, geographic information systems specialists, hydrologists, real estate specialists, and public involvement specialists from six federal agencies, four state agencies, the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida, and the Seminole Tribe.45 In addition, several public interest groups, private industry, and other stakeholders participated throughout the development of the CERP. To facilitate effective team work and open communication, the team members made a formal commitment to cooperation through the Partnership Agreement: “We, the members of the Central & Southern Florida Project Restudy Team, have been empowered by our agencies to expeditiously advance the restoration of the Everglades and the South Florida Ecosystem and to assure the prudent use of water resources. We pledge to make this effort our highest work priority and to set the needs of the team above individual goals.”46
This pledge of team work and commitment to the Everglades restoration effort was critical to the success of the project and continued throughout the development of the restoration plan. In WRDA 1996, Congress set an extremely expedited deadline for the completion of the Everglades Restoration Plan, requiring that the plan be delivered to Congress by July 1, 1999.47 As an illustration of the magnitude of the challenge, the team had motivational buttons printed that read, “COMPREHENSIVE PLAN – JULY 1, 1999, YES WE CAN!!” The challenge was met, and on July 1, 1999, the comprehensive plan [CERP] was delivered to Congress.
11.3.2 Problems of Process: Trust and Responsibility While much was accomplished through this period of unprecedented trust and cooperation, unfortunately, Governor Chiles’ Commission was dissolved in May 1999 during the transition to Governor Jeb Bush’s Administration. Although Governor Bush created a successor in the form of the Governor’s Commission for the Everglades, via Executive Order 99–144,48 there were a number of delays in getting the Commission appointed and under way.49 In the meantime, the process began to break down, with no broad-based, consensus-building process available for publicly resolving the
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difficult issues involved with the approval, authorization, and implementation of the restoration plan. There was concern on the part of the federal government that the State had not shown a sufficiently strong commitment to ensuring the restoration of the natural system, including Everglades National Park, whereby the federal commitment of such substantial national resources would be justified by the benefit to federally protect lands.50 Concerns were raised when the 1998 Florida Legislature passed the “Restudy Bill.”51 The bill had included a provision that the Florida Legislature would have the final review and essentially veto power over all Everglades restoration projects. Several members of Florida’s congressional delegation and the U.S. House Appropriations Committee52 urged Governor Lawton Chiles to veto the legislation, as the bill would have “a significant negative impact on the state/federal partnership for Everglades restoration . . .”53 The bill was subsequently vetoed by Governor Chiles54 after federal and public outcry.55 “Chiles said requiring project-by-project approval would cast doubt on the state’s commitment.”56 According to the late Governor Chiles, “You have to treat your partner fairly, and in both of these bills we were stepping on their toes.”57 The Restudy Bill58 was re-filed and passed by the 1999 Florida Legislature and signed by Governor Jeb Bush in record time.59 This subsequent bill was only slightly less contentious in that it gave state oversight authority to the Florida Department of Environmental Protection, rather than the Florida Legislature. Additionally, concern may have been grounded in the perception that Florida has been slow to implement its own state laws to protect environmental water supplies, such as establishing minimum flows and levels for the ecosystem, to protect both the natural system and state water supply sources.
11.3.3 Renewed Efforts of Cooperation 11.3.3.1 The Water Resources Advisory Commission In March 2001, the SFWMD established the Water Resources Advisory Commission (WRAC).60 The WRAC is an advisory body to the SFWMD Governing Board and the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force, and is a forum for improving public participation and decision-making on water resource issues in South Florida. The WRAC is charged with building consensus amongst stakeholders in both the private and public sectors on policies, programs, and projects related to water resource management and Everglades restoration. 11.3.3.2 The Everglades Coalition In 1968, the National Audubon Society and the National Parks Conservation Association brought together major national and Florida-based environmental organizations in New York City to create a national coalition to support restoration of the Everglades. The Everglades Coalition is an alliance of 45 local, state, and national conservation and environmental non-profit organizations dedicated to full restoration of the greater Everglades ecosystem, from the Kissimmee Chain of Lakes into Lake
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Okeechobee, through the “River of Grass,” out to Florida Bay and the Keys.”61 In 2008, the Everglades Coalition hosted its 23rd annual conference, which continues to serve as the most important annual forum for the discussion of Everglades restoration policy, bringing together top level agency leadership at the federal, state, tribal, and local levels with grassroots and grasstops in the non-profit community, as well as the private business sector.
11.4 The Implementation Process Implementation of the Everglades restoration plan is a massive public works project that requires authorization (e.g., WRDA); annual appropriations of federal, state, and some local funding; significant land acquisition; and construction. Restoration has begun with the initiation of several projects, including the acquisition of hundreds of thousands of acres of land. Unfortunately, delays in project authorizations through the WRDA bill and a lack of sufficient federal funding have resulted in significant delays to restoration and continued degradation of the ecosystem.
11.4.1 Securing Lands Needed for Restoration The integrity of the Everglades restoration plan rests in part on the ability to acquire the land necessary to implement project components. Congress has appropriated nearly $300 million for Everglades lands and the State of Florida and the SFWMD have already expended more than $1 billion to secure restoration lands, resulting in the acquisition of more than 200,000 acres of land for restoration projects. While significant progress has been made, conversion of open space to development has jeopardized the ability of the natural system to provide important ecological services like clean air and water. Restoration projects designed to replace lost ecological functions require large, undeveloped, contiguous tracts of land. Encroachment of urban and suburban development is the single greatest threat to ecological restoration. Securing the lands necessary for restoration is often a race with development. Due to extreme development pressure in South Florida, restoration options are being foreclosed and potential benefits are being lost. The pressures of price escalation and development increase every day, causing restoration footprints to shrink and result in the loss of ecosystem function. Shrinking restoration footprints are already compromising Everglades restoration. Criteria other than science are clouding land-buying decisions. Rising property values can out-pace restoration land funding. Land use decisions resulting from inadequate coordination among restoration partners, including federal, state, tribal, and local governments, and other stakeholders, can result in incompatible development that further hinders restoration. Timing is crucial, and early acquisition could help safeguard the integrity of project footprints. Collaboration among federal, state, tribal, and local governments and private partners is essential to securing the early funding needed to acquire real estate required for restoration. The burden of both funding and decision-making must be fairly distributed, and should not fall on the shoulders of just one agency or
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stakeholder. Environmental infrastructure provides essential services including water supply, clean air, and improved economic opportunities for resource-dependent industries. Education and outreach programs can help the public understand environmental restoration as another form of infrastructure, such as roads and airports. Ecosystem restoration requires aggressive land acquisition early on. Until all lands needed for restoration have been acquired, development will continue to threaten success. In the interim, the various stakeholders must work together to protect project footprints and protect adjacent lands from incompatible land uses.
11.4.2 Authorization On December 11, 2000, President Clinton signed WRDA 2000 directing the Corps to restore the South Florida ecosystem62 using the CERP as the framework.63 Actual construction of restoration projects requires individual authorizations in subsequent WRDA bills, which are supposed to be enacted every two years. Six years later, however, Congress had failed to enact another WRDA bill. In 2006, the House and the Senate had each passed versions of the WRDA in the same Congress for the first time in six years, rather than two. The bill would have authorized the first major CERP projects, Indian River Lagoon and Picayune Strand, to restore more than 160,000 acres of wetlands and significant estuarine habitat and improve water quality for the Everglades, Florida Bay, 10,000 Islands, St. Lucie Estuary, and Lake Okeechobee. In the final days of the 109th Congress, however, conference negotiations failed and the WRDA bill died. The process began anew early in 2007. On November 8, 2007, more than five years in the making, WRDA 2007 was enacted into law by a staggering margin in Congress, overriding President Bush’s veto. 64 This was the first veto override of the Bush presidency and only the 106th in U.S. history. In total, the $23 billion piece of legislation authorizes funding for navigation, flood protection, and $6 billion in ecosystem restoration. The level of ecosystem restoration funding authority is unprecedented. The law authorizes funding for the projects, and the funding must be approved, beginning with the 2009 appropriations process. To advance Everglades restoration, Congress authorized the Indian River Lagoon, Picayune Strand, and Site 1 Impoundment, all components of the CERP. Congress also instructed the Corps to expedite completion of Modified Water Deliveries to Everglades National Park Project, authorized in 1989, including modifications to Tamiami Trail, which has been identified as critical as Florida Bay faces impending estuarine collapse as a result of this project’s delay. The projects mitigate harmful federal drainage projects, help the Everglades by restoring more than 160,000 acres of wetlands and significant estuarine habitat, and help secure Florida’s tourism and outdoor recreation economy. The projects also improve water quality for the Everglades, Florida Bay, 10,000 Islands, St. Lucie Estuary, and Lake Okeechobee.
11.4.3 Construction: Restoration Has Already Begun Both the federal and state partners have already demonstrated commitment to restoring the Indian River Lagoon and Picayune Strand. On October 16, 2003, former Governor
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Jeb Bush, joined by federal, tribal, and environmental partners, broke ground on an initial phase of Picayune Strand Restoration, which included removing roads and exotic plants, and backfilling seven miles of Prairie Canal. As part of a joint commitment to restore the River of Grass, the state and federal governments invested nearly $100 million to acquire more than 19,000 lots in the abandoned subdivision. On November 7, 2003, the Corps, along with other federal, state, and local officials and environmental partners, broke ground on the Ten Mile Creek Water Preserve Area Critical Restoration Project, which was authorized in WRDA 1996, marking the beginning of the restoration of the Indian River Lagoon Basin. In 2004, the SFWMD initiated “Acceler8” in an effort to reaffirm the local sponsor’s commitment to restoration by accelerating the implementation of eight restoration projects. The “Acceler8” program includes reservoirs, stormwater treatment areas, and wetland restoration throughout the 16-county region. To accomplish this goal, the SFWMD issued Certificates of Participation to finance construction of projects.65 Pilot projects were authorized in WRDA 1999 and 2000 for several components of the CERP that are to be implemented on a very large scale. The components of the CERP had sufficient detail for plan selection but were not sufficiently detailed for traditional Corps feasibility studies. The pilot projects will provide the technical detail for additional plan formulation and development. Although there has been significant support for accelerating completion of the pilot projects, because much of the restoration is dependant on the results of these pilots, the projects have instead slipped by more than five years.
11.5 Assurances for the Everglades Once restored, the Everglades must be protected from the potentially devastating demands of growing urban populations. We must maintain a balance, and share in adversity.66 There must be assurances that, once restored, the Everglades will not be sacrificed to shortsighted, short-term solutions to the foreseeable problems of competing water needs and inequitable allocation.67 The CERP recognized the need for assurances for the natural system, but stopped short of identifying a mechanism for establishing such. The CERP allows for the capture of an additional 1.1 million acre-feet68 of water. Of this “new” water, 80 percent was estimated to be allocated by the plan for the natural environment.69 This is a recommendation of the plan, but is by no means an allocation of the water resources expected from the implementation of the CERP. In approving the CERP through WRDA 2000, Congress recognized that provisions were necessary to protect the federal interest by ensuring that the anticipated restoration benefits are actually realized. Congress required assurances that the Everglades will be restored, and that, once restored, the Everglades will not again be harmed. To this end, Congress required the Secretary of the Army to create federal rules to govern the Everglades restoration program that ensure the permanent protection of this national treasure. Federal law requires these federal rules to (1) set forth the various steps and mechanisms involved in the Everglades restoration plan so as to ensure achievement of the plan’s objectives, (2) ensure science-driven Everglades restoration
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and continued improvement of the Plan, and (3) ensure the restoration and permanent protection of the Everglades.70 The primary and overarching purpose of the CERP is to restore the South Florida ecosystem. The CERP centers on providing the proper quantity, quality, timing, and distribution of water to the natural system. For Everglades restoration to be successful, these natural system benefits must be guaranteed. “The promise of the Comprehensive Plan depends on effective assurances to ensure that the natural system benefits are achieved in a timely manner and maintained for the long-term.”71
11.6 Restoration Success Ecological integrity, social sustainability, and flexibility are essential elements of ecosystem restoration success. Ecological integrity requires the recovery and protection of an ecosystem so it once again embodies and sustains essential physical components, biodiversity, and ecosystem processes. Social sustainability requires an understanding of the role ecosystem health plays in our quality of life and a commitment to protecting it. The inherent uncertainty of ecological responses to restoration projects requires flexibility – the use of adaptive management to address project shortcomings and unanticipated effects. The overarching goals of most large-scale ecosystem restoration initiatives are the result of a sociopolitical process rather than a purely scientific one. The goals, broadly stated, are to enhance ecological values, economic values, and social wellbeing throughout the ecosystem. Some aspects of these goals conflict and require compromise. A vision for success: Priority ecosystems support thriving communities and flourishing populations of birds, fish, and other wildlife. Ecosystems, such as the Everglades, are broadly recognized as nationally significant. All levels of society have a shared understanding of how ecosystems function and what is needed to restore and maintain their ecological integrity and are engaged in activities to restore and conserve these natural resources.
An important measure of success for Everglades restoration is the return of abundant and sustainable wildlife populations and habitat. Economic prosperity and quality of life depend on sustainable ecosystems. Partnerships between branches of government and the inclusion of stakeholders are necessary for success. “The Everglades Restoration plan is a bipartisan solution to a nonpartisan problem.”72 Bipartisan, state/federal cooperation marks the success of the effort to restore the Everglades. Setbacks are distinguished by partisanship and a lack of state/federal cooperation. In a Presidential election year, partisan politics are creeping back into Everglades restoration – each party seeming to vie for credit and assign blame. To reiterate the insightful words of Senator Graham, “ . . .Everglades restoration depends on a strong federal-state partnership in which each partner needs to have trust and respect for the other.”73 The CERP is an excellent opportunity for the Corps to repair damage from previous water resource projects while functioning in a manner that is responsive, accountable, and fiscally responsible. The Corps has set about to undo the damage wrought by a
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half-century of civil works projects that diked and drained the Everglades, and each day continue to divert up to two billion gallons of life-giving water away from the Everglades and out to sea. In Everglades restoration, the Corps has demonstrated public accountability by conducting extensive public outreach and should remain extremely open and accessible throughout the process. If the effort is successful, the restored Everglades will serve as a model for future ecosystem restoration projects throughout our nation and the world.
Notes 1. Marjory Stoneman Douglas authored “The Everglades: River of Grass” and was a pioneer activist for the Everglades. 2. Everglades is singular. “My decision to treat the Everglades as singular because it is the name of one physiographic region . . .([Marjory Stoneman Douglas] now agrees that singular is appropriate.)]” Thomas Lodge, The Everglades Handbook 9–10 (1998). 3. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and South Florida Water Management District, Overview— Central and Southern Florida Project Comprehensive Review Study 28 (October 1998)[hereinafter Overview], at 18. 4. Hearing on Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan – The First Major Projects, before the Subcomm. on Water Resources & Environment of the House Comm. on Trans. and Infrastructure, 108th Cong. (2004) (Statement of April H. Gromnicki, Esq., Everglades Policy Director, Audubon of Florida). 5. Gov’s Comm’n for a Sustainable South Fla., Initial Report page 14 (Oct. 1995) [hereinafter Initial Report]. 6. The Convention on Wetlands, signed in Ramsar, Iran, in 1971, is an intergovernmental treaty that provides the framework for national action and international cooperation for the conservation and wise use of wetlands and their resources. There are presently 116 parties to the convention, with 1005 wetland sites, designated for inclusion in the Ramsar list of Wetlands of International Importance. The Everglades was designated on June 4, 1987. Everglades Nat’l Park, A Park for the World (visited November 20, 2007)
. 7. International Biosphere Reserves are a project of the Man and the Biosphere program of the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). Reserves are protected samples of the world’s major ecosystem types. These sites are standards against which we can measure human impact on our environment and predict its probable effects. There are now ever 190 reserves in 50 countries. Established for its biological values, Everglades National Park was added to this world list on October 26, 1976. Id. 8. Convention on World Heritage, Nov. 23, 1972, 27 UST 37. World Heritage Sites are also designated by UNESCO under the Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage. By the World Heritage Convention’s 25th anniversary in 1997, nearly 150 nations had ratified the agreement and placed more than 500 sites on the World Heritage List. Everglades National Park became a World Heritage Site on October 26, 1979. Id. 9. Letter from Joseph W. Westphal, Assistant Secretary of the Army (Civil Works), to Vice President Albert Gore (July 1, 1999). 10. Hearing on Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem, before the Subcomm. on Water Resources & Environment of the House Comm. on Trans. and Infrastructure, 106th Cong. (2000) (Statement of Dr. Joseph W. Westphal, Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works). 11. Overview, supra note 3, at 6. 12. Although some localized drainage projects began earlier in the century, the comprehensive federal drainage project began in 1948. 13. Overview, supra note 3, at 8.
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14. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Why Restore the Everglades? 15. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2007. 16. Public Law No. 104–303, 104th Cong. (1996) (enacted) (Water Resources Development Act of 1996) [hereinafter WRDA 1996]. 17. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Central and Southern Florida Comprehensive Review Study 10.2.9 (April 1999) [hereinafter Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP)]. 18. The CERP recommends the following modifications to the C&SF Project: (1) developing surface water storage reservoirs, (2) creating water preserve areas, (3) managing Lake Okeechobee as an ecological resource, (4) improving water deliveries to the estuaries, (5) developing underground water storage, (6) developing treatment wetlands, (7) sending water to the Everglades in a way that mimics mature, (8) removing barriers to sheetflow, (9) storing water in quarries, (10) reusing wastewater, (11) improving water deliveries to Biscayne Bay, and (12) improving fresh water deliveries to Florida Bay. Overview, supra note 3, at 16–17. 19. Overview, supra note 3, at 18. 20. Supra note 8. 21. U.S. Government Accountability Office, South Florida Ecosystem Restoration is Moving Forward but is Facing Significant Delays, Implementation Challenges, and Rising Costs, at 1. 22. Id. 23. Greater Miami Chamber of Commerce and Environmental Economics Council, In South Florida, the Environment is the Economy 3 (June 1999) (on file with Audubon of Florida). 24. Id. 25. Id. at 4. 26. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and South Florida Water Management District, The Plan to Restore America’s Everglades, CERP: The Plan in Depth – Part 5 Implementation Principles and Guidelines (visited Nov. 20, 2007) http://www.evergladesplan.org/about/rest plan pt 05.aspx 27. Hearing on Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem, supra note 9 (Statement of Mary Doyle, Counselor to the Secretary, Department of the Interior). 28. Miami-Dade, Monroe, Broward, Palm Beach, Martine, St. Lucie, Collier, Lee, Hendry, and Glades Counties, as well as parts of Charlotte, Highlands, Okeechobee, Polk, Osceola, and Orange Counties. 29. The South Florida Water Management District is the only entity whose boundaries coincide with those of the entire Everglades ecosystem. 30. Supra note 16. 31. Conference Rep. on H.R. 2466, Dept. of Interior and Related Agencies Appropriations Act, 2000 (October 20, 1999). 32. Public Law No. 102–580, 104th Cong. (1992) (enacted) (Water Resources Development Act of 1992). 33. Flood Control Act of 1948, 62 Stat. 1175 (1948). 34. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and South Florida Water Management District, Rescuing an Endangered Ecosystem: The Plan to Restore America’s Everglades 7 (July 1999). 35. Id. 36. WRDA 1996, supra note 16. 37. Id. 38. Id. 39. Fla. Exec. Order No. 94-54 (March 3, 1994). 40. The Commission defined “sustainability” as the state of having met the needs of the present without endangering the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. Initial Report, supra note 5, at 178. 41. Initial Report, supra note 5, at 17. 42. Id. at 17. “The inextricable link between the human community and the natural system is obvious. The natural system is the basis for our public health, safety, recreation, welfare, and aesthetic activities.” 43. “The comprehensive plan shall consider the conceptual framework specified in the report entitled the ‘Conceptual Plan for the Central and Southern Florida Project Restudy’, published by the Commission and approved by the Governor.” WRDA 1996, supra note 16.
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44. The works of the Governor’s Commission for a Sustainable South Florida include, Initial Report, 1995; Everglades Water Budget, 1995; Conceptual Plan for the C&SF Project Restudy, 1996; Aquifer Storage and Recovery, 1996; Ranking of Farm Bill Land Acquisition Projects, 1996; Seepage Management Report, 1997; Ranking for Critical Restoration Projects, 1997; Energy Report, 1997; Interim Report on the C&SF Project Restudy, 1998; Report on Full Cost Accounting, 1998; Restudy Implementation Plan Report, 1999; Funding of the C&SF Project Restudy, 1999; and Planning for 2050, 1999. 45. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, National Park Service, National Marine Fisheries Service, Natural Resources Conservation Service of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, Florida Department of Environmental Protection, Florida Game and Fresh Water Fish Commission, and the South Florida Water Management District. 46. Partnership Agreement (1995). 47. WRDA 1996, supra note 16. 48. “The Commission will serve as an advisory body to the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task force, as a forum for improving decision-making and public participation in Everglades restoration and South Florida economic and community sustainability, evaluate and make recommendations on the funding and implementation of the C&SF Project Restudy, consider the needs of rural and low income communities as Everglades restoration progresses, and, recommend action to better integrate land, water and transportation planning for the South Florida region.” Fla. Exec. Order No. 99–144 (June 24, 1999). 49. Significantly, the Commission for the Everglades did not follow the unanimous consensusbuilding precedent to the Governor’s Commission for a Sustainable South Florida, but worked from a simple majority. 50. According to then David B. Struhs, Secretary, Florida Department of Environmental Protection, “[W]e recognize that our federal partners must view the Everglades as one project competing with many others around the country. To that end, you seek solid evidence that Florida’s historic resolve and commitment will continue. Frankly, with all due respect, as a state government, we have the same concerns about the federal government.” Hearing on Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem, supra note 9 (Statement of David B. Struhs, Secretary, Florida Department of Environmental Protection). 51. Fla. HB 4141 (1998). 52. E. Clay Shaw, Jr., Porter Goss, Dan Miller, Zach Wamp, Michael Bilirakis, Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, and Peter Deutsch. 53. Letter from E. Clay Shaw, Jr., at al., United States Congress, to Governor Lawton Chiles, State of Florida (May 14, 1998). “[B]ecause we believe the Restudy Bill will impede efforts to restore Florida’s Everglades, and may directly result in a diminution of federal funding for the Everglades, we strongly urge you to consider these factors before signing HB 4141.” 54. Veto of Fla. HB 4141 (1998) (letter from Gov. Chiles, to Sec’y of State Sandra B. Mortham, May 28, 1998, on file with Sec’y of State, The Capitol, Tallahassee, Fla.). 55. According to U.S. EPA Administrator Carol Browner, “We were concerned that some of the people that fund the issue in Congress . . .would simply say look, if the state’s going to do this, this isn’t good faith, why should we, the federal government, continue to fund.” Bill Bergstrom, Fla. Gov. Scraps Everglades Bills, As s ociated Pres s , May 29, 1998. Referring to the Governor’s vetoes, Vice President Al Gore stated, “Today’s actions preserve the valuable partnership we have forged so we can move forward and complete the largest ecosystem restoration ever undertaken.” Bill Bergstrom, U.S. EPA head speaks as governor mulls Glades Bills, As s ociated Pres s , May 28, 1998. “By the power of his pen the governor has shown that Florida is serious about restoring our Everglades,” Said Mary Barley, chairwoman of Save Our Everglades. Id. 56. Id. 57. Id. 58. Fla. SB 1672 (1999). 59. This was thought to be calculated to prevent an organized effort for a veto of the bill. 60. Resolution 2004-1246, South Florida Water Management District (March 2001). 61. The Everglades Coalition, www.evergladescoalition.org (visited November 20, 2007).
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62. Congress defined “South Florida Ecosystem” as “consisting of the land and water within the boundary of the South Florida Water Management District” and “the contiguous near-shore coastal water of South Florida.” 63. Public Law No. 106–541, 106th Cong. (2000), Title VI, (Water Resources Development Act of 2000) [hereinafter WRDA 2000]. 64. Public Law No. 110–114, 119th Cong. (2007) (enacted) (Water Resources Development Act of 2007) [hereinafter WRDA 2007]. 65. South Florida Water Management District, www.evergladesnow.org (2007). 66. “In the event that there is a shortage or excess in water for existing storage, all systems should share in the adversity resulting from the imbalance in storage. However, the Restudy should provide sufficient facilities that protect natural systems such that natural systems will not have to accept a water storage adversity in either wet or dry periods that would cause significant harm to native vegetative or faunal communities, nor should water user groups have to accept adversity that significantly impacts human health and safety.” Gov’s Comm’n for a Sustainable South Fla., Interim Report 7 (August 11, 1998). See also, Initial Report, supra note 3, at 60. 67. There are three primary legal systems governing water allocation in America; riparian rights, prior appropriation, and hybrid systems. Under riparian rights systems, landowners bordering waterways, or riparians, are permitted to use water in a reasonable way relative to all other users – new and old – proportionally. The riparian doctrine is most prevalent in eastern states. Western states are dominated by the prior appropriation doctrine, which is dependent on water usage, rather than land ownership. Under this doctrine, a water right is established by putting water to beneficial use and continuing that use, as well as complying with statutory requirements. Hybrid systems were established in states that originally followed riparian rights, but later converted to a system of appropriation combined with existing riparian rights. Florida is such a riparian hybrid state. 68. An acre-foot of water the amount of water covering an acre (a football field) one foot deep, which is equivalent to 325,861 gallons. 69. Rescuing an Endangered Ecosystem: The Plan to Restore America’s Everglades, supra note 33, at 16. 70. WRDA 2000, supra note 63. 71. Hearing on Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem, supra note 9 (Statement of Mary Doyle, Counsel to the Secretary of the Interior). 72. Hearing on Restoration of the Everglades and South Florida Ecosystem, supra note 9 (Statement of Stuart Strahl, President/CEO of Audubon of Florida). 73. Conference Rep. on H.R. 2466, Dept. of Interior and Related Agencies Appropriations Act, 2000 (October 20, 1999).
Part III
The Need For Global Efforts To Save Biological Diversity
Chapter 12
A Wildland and Woodland Vision for the New England Landscape: Local Conservation, Biodiversity and the Global Environment David R. Foster and William G. Labich
Abstract Most arguments that start “think globally/act locally” struggle to forge a convincing connection between these two scales of action. However, for New England and most of the eastern United States there is a direct link between effective forest protection and management and the global environment. As a consequence of sub-continental reforestation and growth since the 19th Century, residents across this region have a second chance to determine the fate of their natural landscape. The forests that blanket this region are young and growing rapidly, storing globally important amounts of carbon and thereby thwarting global climate change. Protecting these forests and managing them to generate products and store additional carbon will bring immense benefits to local communities and the world. The Wildlands and Woodlands proposal to protect and manage 50% of southern New England in forests provides a mechanism for achieving such ambitious local and global goals.
12.1 Introduction Think Globally and Act Locally. For New England and most of the eastern United States this well-worn adage has striking relevance in an era when global environmental change is driven by rising atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide, a major greenhouse gas. There are few areas of the globe where an accelerated conservation effort focused on protecting natural ecosystems and biodiversity can provide greater benefits to local communities and regional economies while also conveying huge rewards for the global environment. This opportunity for local action in the eastern United States to provide global benefits is the consequence of a regional history that in itself yields ecological and conservation insights from which all can profit. Preeminent among these lessons is recognition that efforts to protect biodiversity locally and globally will only succeed if they combine the preservation of wildland areas with the conservation of actively managed landscapes. The background for New England’s conservation and environmental opportunity is rooted in the region’s remarkable historical transformation. Over a 300-year period the forested landscape was first cleared for agriculture and then abandoned from extensive farming and allowed to recover naturally back to expansive forest. New England and most states east of the Mississippi are now among the most heavily wooded regions of the United States. Forests blanket vast regions and, as they grow, they store immense quantities of carbon dioxide that significantly offset the increase of this greenhouse gas R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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in the atmosphere. These expansive forests, along with remaining farmland, provide many more direct and indirect benefits to people and nature. These benefits range from habitat for the large diversity of plant and animal species to providing myriad aesthetic, recreational and economic benefits including the provision of clean water, fresh air and wood products. Currently, however, the natural infrastructure of New England and the eastern United States is threatened by a second and permanent wave of deforestation, fueled by sprawling home construction and commercial development. With the land and its many natural ecosystems poised in the balance, local residents, landowners and policymakers have an opportunity to guide the region’s future in directions that can retain the forests and their diverse organisms, maintain the local quality of life, and yield immense environmental benefits at local to global scales. In many ways, history has provided New England and the eastern United States with a quite unusual opportunity: a second chance to determine the fate of its landscape. The first time around, through the 17th to 19th centuries, European settlers viewed the forests as an impediment to progress and cleared them regionally. Despite its environmental severity, this episode was a “soft” deforestation as the resulting pastures and fields readily reforested when farming declined. Now, however, we are promoting a “hard” deforestation in which forests are converted into roads, subdivisions, parking lots, and immense residential and commercial structures. Barring cataclysm, or a quantum increase in the rate of forest protection, the current wave of forest destruction will be relentless and permanent. To understand how this vast region came to be balanced on an environmental tipping point, where it is faced with such opportunities and threats, we need to delve into both ecological history and science.
12.2 The Re-Greening of the East: Lessons from a Great Environmental Story Writing in the Atlantic Monthly in 1995, author Bill McKibben characterized the process of reforestation and recovery of the rural eastern landscape as “the great environmental story of the United States, and in some ways of the whole world.” After all, from the ruins of wholesale forest destruction, environmental degradation and onslaught on biodiversity in the 19th century emerged a thriving and remarkably intact range of modern natural forest ecosystems that support the vast majority of native species and processes. While this tale varies in important details from the cotton fields of the Carolinas to the rolling pastures of New England, the broad sweep of changes that occurred over the past four centuries is strikingly similar for most of the eastern United States (Foster and Aber 2004). Following European arrival, waves of settlers and their offspring spread across the landscape clearing forest to live closely off the land in small communities based largely on agriculture. As the population increased, forest cover declined progressively; more people meant more needs to be met by additional farm land (Fig. 12.1). The peak of this lifestyle and corresponding nadir of forest cover occurred in the mid to late 19th century when, rather abruptly, the relationships between human
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Fig. 12.1 Changes in the extent of forest cover in the New England states and the region’s human population over the past 300 years. For the first half of the region’s history deforestation was driven by the need of an expanding population to clear land for agriculture. Over the past century and a half the population has grown in concentrated urban and suburban settings, farming has declined, and farmland has reverted to forest cover. Note the second wave of deforestation in most states over the past few decades
population, cleared land, and forests reversed completely (Hall et al. 2002). Since that time, while the New England and eastern population has continued to expand at increasing rates, forest cover has also increased. This counter-intuitive and quite remarkable pattern, in which a growing human population accommodates increasing natural forest cover, provides an important lesson. Many more people can inhabit a region if they are willing to alter their fundamental relationship with the land (Foster 2001, Berlik et al. 2002). Of course, it matters how they accomplish this. For the first half of U.S. history the eastern population spread rather evenly across the landscape in a fairly homogeneous and dispersed pattern in small villages and towns. These people worked the land and derived their food, materials and most of their living directly from it. In the second half of this history major economic, technological and sociological changes transformed this relationship. Railroads and canals allowed farm and other products to be imported cheaply and abundantly from the expanding mid-western and western regions. Meanwhile, the industrial revolution drew the eastern rural population and newly arriving immigrants into urban centers and industrial towns. As farm populations declined and people concentrated in rapidly growing industrial centers along the major rivers and coast, farms and farmland were abandoned wholesale and trees began to spread across fields and pastures. Forest cover expanded greatly, but the size, age and maturity of the forests also increased. Coal,
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additional sources of fuel, and distant wood products became widely available, and the human dependency on local forests declined (Foster 1998). Many lessons emerge from this history. One important observation is the striking similarity in the history and pattern of changes across quite different states and landscapes, from the rocky slopes of Vermont to the rolling hills of Connecticut to the piedmont of North Carolina. Parallel histories across such different climates, lands, forests, crops and cultures confirms that these trends were not driven by changes in the quality of the land or the local populations, but by extraregional, national and international economic and social forces. While individual landowners made their own decisions to clear, and cultivate or abandon their land, they were influenced by, and ultimately part of, broad societal processes. Ecologically, this story provides numerous insights (Foster 1999, 2001). The first is one of resilience and recovery. From an individual farmer’s fields to the broad sweep of the subcontinent, the process of reforestation led towards a restoration of natural conditions, processes and species. Quite inadvertently, the region’s residents conducted an immense and unintentional experiment that confirmed the remarkable ability of forests and native plants and wildlife to recover after abusive treatment and environmental degradation (Foster 1999). Nature’s resilience is declared in every beautiful New England scene in which remnant stonewall boundaries of ancient fields wind through mature forests of oak, maple and pine. Resilience is also heralded in the phenomenal recovery of native animals over the past 300 years (Fig. 12.2). Deforestation and depredation were accompanied by a dramatic decline and extirpation of most of the larger mammals and native woodland and aquatic birds in the region. By the 1850s Henry Thoreau lamented that the muskrat was the largest native animal around Concord, Massachusetts. Thoreau openly despaired for the survival of forests and woodland plants. Remarkably, forest re-growth was accompanied by the
Fig. 12.2 Changes in major wildlife species over the past 400 years in New England as landscape conditions and human attitudes have changed. The species represent major categories of response: a few species were extirpated (e.g., wolf) or driven extinct (e.g., passenger pigeon), many were reduced to very low population densities and have rebounded naturally (e.g., deer, bear) or by active reintroduction (e.g., beaver, turkey) in the 20th century, and others have expanded from distant areas due to habitat change, reduced predation or environmental change (e.g., coyote, turkey vulture). Meanwhile, many animals and plants thrive in the open and highly disturbed conditions generated by land-use activity (e.g., bobolink and meadowlark)
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immigration and reintroduction of many species that Thoreau never saw in southern New England. Although wolves and cougar are still missing, New England has witnessed a major resurgence of deer, bear, fisher, beaver, otter, and moose as well as the arrival of species like opossum and coyote (Faison 2006). Although less apparent, woodland plant species have also thrived while the plants and animals of open fields, shrublands, and heavily cut woodlands have declined (Foster et al. 2002). Finally, there is a lesson rooted in social science that has immense importance for conservation and the ecological integrity of eastern forests and human communities. As people became less dependent on their local landscape over the past 150 years, the land did become wilder. However, the value of this landscape also diminished in the eyes of most landowners and local residents as their livelihoods were no longer directly connected to it. Unfortunately, when people no longer get their food, fiber, and fuel from their local surroundings, when they no longer live and depend directly on the land, it is easy for them to ignore it. It is also easy to overlook and take for granted the less tangible but equally critical resources that come from an intact forested landscape, such as water, clean air, and a healthy life. While for centuries our plant, animal, and human populations have responded to local and regional changes driven by national and global forces, we easily overlook the fact that our local surroundings are, indeed, connected to the global environment (Anonymous 2007a, Berlik et al. 2002).
12.3 Forests as Natural Infrastructure The expansion and growth of the eastern forests was accompanied by a return of most natural forest characteristics and processes (Foster et al. 2002). The big trees in these new woods are surrounded by a diversity of native understory plants and animals. Together these organisms and habitats comprise ecosystems that absorb carbon dioxide, release oxygen, filter the air, deliver water to streams and groundwater, and grow and change over time in the face of seasonal dynamics, climate change, and natural and human disturbances like windstorms, ice storms, insects, fire and timber harvesting. While there are many ways to characterize the large number of human and natural benefits that these forests deliver, including the popular term “ecosystems services,” an alternative term that may be more easily grasped is “natural infrastructure.” Forests, and other ecosystems, provide the basic infrastructure that supports all life (cf. Foster et al. 2005). One rationale for the use of this term is that, in large measure, society and its taxpayers value infrastructure. After all, we regularly invest in community infrastructure to provide water, electricity, sewage treatment, transportation and roadways necessary to move easily around town and across the land. We also make major investments in facilities that simply provide an attractive backdrop to our lives and entertain us in our leisure. Nature provides even more complex and beneficial infrastructure, quite freely and incessantly. But to retain this natural infrastructure, forests for example, we must recognize it, value it, and invest in it by first protecting it and then caring for it. While good examples of nature as recreational, environmental, or resource infrastructure are abundant, one compelling example comes from the western Massachusetts backyard of the Harvard Forest. Here, the Quabbin Reservoir and its surrounding
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tens of thousands of acres of forestland and streams provide drinking water for all of metropolitan Boston and its surrounding communities, altogether 40% of the state’s population (Anonymous 2007b). In the creation of the Quabbin Reservoir, planners had the foresight to purchase and protect about 75% of the largely forested watershed (Golodetz and Foster 1997, Barten et al. 1998). Subsequently, private landowners worked with State conservation agencies and non-profit land trusts to protect additional lands from development, thereby extending the conservation values associated with the publicly-owned watershed forests. Today, with the Quabbin Reservation as a center piece, the North Quabbin region of Massachusetts is one of the most densely forested and well protected areas. More than 45% of the land in the 168,283-ha area has been protected from development through the concerted efforts of more than 30 groups and hundreds of landowners in southern New England. Meanwhile, these Quabbin forests form one of the most intensively harvested landscapes in the region, providing wood products, jobs, and income while supporting a growing diversity of native plant and animal life. The state lands are largely open to public use and provide among the most interesting hiking, birding, fishing and hunting opportunities in southern New England. The effectiveness of Quabbin’s forested watershed at filtering and purifying the water has allowed the state to receive an EPA waiver from the construction of a costly water treatment and filtration plant. In construction costs alone this represents a savings of more than $500 million, not to mention the avoided costs of personnel and maintenance. By protecting forestland to provide these critical services, Massachusetts taxpayers and ratepayers can forgo the expenses associated with trying to emulate natural processes while deriving many additional benefits. Clearly, the Quabbin watershed forest is natural infrastructure that supports critical functions like water filtration, and that sustains not only animal and plant species, but the well-being of a significant portion of the state’s population (Anonymous 2007b).
12.4 Local Woodlands and Eastern Forests as Global Infrastructure There are many places worldwide that support much greater expanses of forest than the eastern United States, including the tropics and the northern boreal region. However, most of these regions are dominated by mature forests that are growing slowly and are being rapidly degraded or deforested. While it is critical to reverse and hopefully end this environmental deterioration, these forests are not accumulating carbon at rates comparable to those by temperate forests. In contrast to the tropics, the vast forests of eastern North America are young and rapidly growing stands newly established on former fields or recovering from past logging or fires. As a consequence of their age and history, these forests are aggressively absorbing carbon dioxide and storing it, in growing trees, in dead wood and material on the ground, and in soils that have been depleted of carbon through decades of intensive human activity (Fig. 12.3) (Barford et al. 2001, Wofsy 2004, Hadley et al. 2008). This carbon accumulation occurs daily in individual forests as the trees grow in diameter and height and as ancient dead trees fall and molder on the ground. Carbon storage also occurs on a massive scale throughout
Forest Storage of Carbon (Cumulative Net Ecosystem Productivity) –1 (metric tons-Carbon per ha )
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Fig. 12.3 The pattern of carbon dynamics in a 100-year-old New England oak forest shows a longterm trend of storage of carbon dioxide (upward trend) due to greater photosynthesis than respiration, but seasonal variation due to changes in the environment and tree biology. During the summer months the deciduous trees have leaves and take up carbon dioxide rapidly whereas during the fall and winter, when the trees are leafless, the forests release carbon dioxide through decomposition and respiration. The data come from a measurement tower located in the Harvard Forest. Note that over the past six years that the rate of carbon storage has actually gone up. Data from Bill Munger, Harvard University
Massachusetts and surrounding states because forests are the dominant land cover and their growth greatly exceeds the rate at which they are currently being harvested (Fig. 12.4; Berlik et al. 2002). Across all of New England and the eastern United States carbon is being accumulated relentlessly by forests at rates that are dependent on the growing season, rainfall, temperature, species of trees, and the local history of the land.
Total Volume of Saw Timber (Boardfeet per Acre)
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Fig. 12.4 Total volume of saw timber in Massachusetts from 1953 to 1998. Over the past fifty years the growth of forests has outstripped the rate of logging and has led to a progressive increase in the volume of timber across Massachusetts and the rest of the New England states
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The estimates vary, but this continual absorption and storage of carbon by what are termed “mid-latitude forests” in the eastern, mid-western and even western United States is reducing the global increase in carbon dioxide by approximately 10–15% (Steven Wofsy personal communication). Annually, the amount varies with climatic fluctuations, but the cumulative effect of all of the rapidly growing forests like those in New England, is that the observed increase in CO2 in the atmosphere is substantially lower than the amount being injected by fossil fuels and other sources (Wofsy 2001, 2004).
12.5 A Second Chance – The Opportunity and Need for Forest Conservation The history of the eastern forest is not over, however. A potentially catastrophic trend appears towards the end of the timeline of forest recovery in New England. For the last few decades, and for the first time in over 150 years, New England and the eastern United States have launched a second wave of deforestation. Estimates vary from 30 to 50 acres of forest destroyed daily across the southern New England states, but the cause is clear and broadly known as “sprawl” (cf., MAS 2003, McDonald et al. 2006). Across the eastern United States and indeed much of the country, suburbs are growing and rural landscapes are increasingly attractive as destinations for primary residences, second homes and industry. The consequence is that forestland and farmland is being progressively converted to housing, commercial and industrial developments and supporting roadways. In a region dominated by private landowners and a long tradition of home-rule seasoned by uneven zoning regulations, land use decisions are loosely coordinated geographically, even when well-regulated at the local scale (Kittredge 2004). The results of forest conversion based on a pattern of sprawl are striking: parcelization of ownerships (i.e., individual forest parcels are declining in size), fragmentation of large blocks of forestland into smaller areas, and perforation of individual forest blocks by scattered development. These processes have many consequences: they reduce the overall extent of forest, they decrease the continuity among existing protected lands and among areas of natural vegetation, and they reduce the effectiveness of natural processes and the easy movement of materials and organisms (McDonald et al. 2006). Relative to the grand challenge of global climate change, deforestation and sprawl have major and enduring effects (Anonymous 2007a, Sampson et al. 2006). Conversion of forest areas to other land uses has the immediate consequence of releasing vast quantities of carbon dioxide as trees are cut, organic matter decomposes in the open environment and soils are bulldozed and removed. Over the long term however, this conversion forever cripples or even eliminates the potential for the forest to continue to store carbon. And, sprawl which forces people to travel great distances between locations where they live, shop, and work, increases energy consumption and greenhouse gas emissions. In contrast, communities that concentrate development and surround their villages with farms for food and forests for clean air and water, wood and wildlife, recreation and respite, can thrive in multiple ways.
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Thus this region is faced by a challenge and an opportunity. The challenge for landowners and residents of New England and other eastern states is to thwart the unplanned loss of forest cover, halting the conversion of forest as a basis for their future survival and that of the environment, locally and globally (Kittredge 2005). The opportunity is to recognize the many values that forests provide human and natural communities and use this awareness to engage landowners, communities and society more actively in the conservation of the forest landscapes that have been neglected over the past century and a half (Finley and Kittredge 2006).
12.6 A Global Environmental Argument for the Management of New England Forests Beyond the rather straightforward argument that it is important for nature and for humans to protect eastern forests, there is a compelling environmental argument that most of these forests should be managed sustainably (Berlik et al. 2002). This may
Fig. 12.5 The wood foot print of Massachusetts. Although the state supports 3 million acres of forest it utilizes an amount of wood produced annually by approximately 15 million acres of forest. Meanwhile, the equivalent of wood growth on 300,000 acres is harvested annually
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seem counterintuitive: protect forests and log them? Why? Because we are a resource consuming society, wood is a highly renewable resource (and also a carbon sink); the eastern United States currently imports most of its wood products and yet it could obtain many more locally. Moreover, environmental controls over forestry are much more stringent locally than in most source areas. Finally, there is the possibility that obtaining resources from our own backyard may make all of us more conscious of how they are obtained and how they are used. Currently, in a state like Massachusetts only approximately 5% of wood products are generated locally; the rest come from places such as British Columbia, Malaysia, other tropical areas, Russia, and other parts of the United States (Fig. 12.5). Many come from old or virgin forests and sites that are much more vulnerable to degradation from logging than temperate forests that have been logged repeatedly. In addition, few of these source regions have the regulatory structure and oversight by agencies, conservation organizations and landowners available in states like Massachusetts. One study concluded that with increased recycling of materials, reduced consumption levels like those of Europe or Japan and increased management of local forests, that Massachusetts could meet more than 40% of its wood resource needs (Berlik et al. 2002). Increased focus on local sources of wood might make local consumers focus more on their value and management and on their own levels of resource use. And, it could reduce the pressure on wood production from distant lands where it can exert negative impacts that are unfelt at home. Management of our forests provides yet another way to act locally and exert a positive impact on the global environment.
12.7 The Wildlands and Woodlands Vision for New England Forests In response to the challenges and opportunities outlined above, scientists associated with the Harvard Forest and its Long Term Ecological Research (LTER) program proposed a vision for the future of the Massachusetts forest as a model for the rest of New England and much of the eastern United States (Foster et al. 2005, www.wildlandsandwoodlands.org). The Wildlands and Woodlands (W&W) proposal argues for a major new initiative of forest protection, preservation and management that is motivated by the importance of forests to local, regional and global environments, species and human populations. Specifically, W&W proposes the permanent protection of half of the entire state of Massachusetts in forest by adding 1.5 million acres to the State’s existing protected land base of 1 million acres, for a total of 2.5 million acres (Table 12.1). It further proposes that 250,000 of these acres, or 10% of the protected forest area, should be large Wildland reserves embedded within 2.25 million acres (90% of protected forests) of managed Woodlands (Fig. 12.6). Together, the Wildland reserves and managed Woodlands will maintain and enhance the region’s biodiversity while offering future generations many environmental services (natural infrastructure), recreational opportunities and economic benefits in a securely forested landscape. W&W recognizes that this framework for conservation will rely on a major
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Table 12.1 Synopsis of the Wildlands and Woodlands vision Goal: To conserve 50% of the land in forest permanently protected from development Wildland Reserves: 10% of the Protected Forest Wildland reserves will be large unmanaged lands (5,000 to 50,000 acres) situated largely on public land. Wildlands would be selected to accomplish five objectives:
r r r r r
to promote natural landscape-level processes, ecological patterns, and biodiversity across the region’s range of forest and environmental conditions to protect water for water supply to protect, connect, and enhance existing old-growth forests to provide opportunities for scientific study of natural processes and reference for the changes occurring in the larger area of managed forest, the Woodlands to afford special educational, recreational, aesthetic, and spiritual benefits
Managed Woodlands: 90% of the Protected Forest Woodlands will comprise most of the existing public forests and conservation land and most of the protected private forest land. Woodlands will accomplish four objectives
r r r r
to support biodiversity, reinforcing the Wildlands and providing habitat variation and supporting species assemblages not occurring on the reserves to enable sustainable resource production such as timber, wildlife, and clean water to provide the infrastructure or ecosystem services that sustain life and generate many direct and indirect economic benefits including productive soils, clean air and clean water to provide extensive recreational, educational, aesthetic, and spiritual experiences
Overall Objective
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to ensure that substantial areas of managed forest and reserves are protected in perpetuity to provide environmental, recreational, educational, economic and aesthetic benefits that the region and its citizens need to provide for statewide distribution of forest conservation lands to accommodate the range of forest ecosystems, species, and values to encourage leadership and involvement by local communities and landowners to enable flexibility in the design of forest conservation areas to complement other initiatives to focus and promote development and economic growth
expansion of the mutually reinforcing public/private collaborations that have been engaged in land conservation, landowner outreach, education and management for decades. Fortunately, in Massachusetts and most of the eastern United States, there is no need for extensive new research or mapping to identify the important forest parcels to acquire. Thanks to the work of state agencies, organizations like The Nature Conservancy, Massachusetts Audubon Society and The Trustees of Reservations, and many dozens of land trusts and other conservation groups most of that necessary planning is complete.
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Fig. 12.6 The Wildland and Woodland proposal: change the rate of land protection and in the course of 25 years protect a full 50% of the landscape in forest cover that is largely managed as woodlands, with approximately 10% of the forest maintained in large Wildland reserves
12.8 Wildlands, Woodlands and Biodiversity in the Context of New England History Although the Wildlands and Woodlands vision is not focused on biodiversity, the history and ecology of the region make the W&W approach an effective way to sustain and enhance the viability of native species. The history of New England and most of the globe requires that a combined approach, involving the preservation of wildlands and the conservation of well managed woodlands and other habitats, is employed for the protection of biodiversity. The argument for preservation, the protection and management of expansive natural areas with a hands-off approach, is rather straightforward (Fig. 12.7). Allowing natural processes to dominate over large tracts of land, albeit influenced by the indirect consequences of past and ongoing human activity, will enable the development of a range of site conditions and habitats that were once common across the landscape but are now exceedingly rare. Due to three centuries of intense land use in the eastern United States, most forests are young and maturing, and few areas support immense oldgrowth trees and such structural characteristics as standing dead snags, large amounts of coarse woody debris, and uproot mounds (McLachlan et al. 2000). Most of our forests present the appearance of having been intensely managed. Forests left to grow under prevailing conditions will be dynamic due to natural aging and disturbances. Consequently, substantial landscape-level variation in forest conditions would develop across a large wildland reserve (cf. Foster et al. 2003). While there is little evidence that a large number of species are restricted to old-growth or wildland forests, there is no doubt that many native species do utilize such areas extensively and are well adapted to their natural dynamics. The added diversity of the sites and landscapes that would develop under a wildland scenario would thereby augment the region’s species diversity. Reserves will also provide a critical “control” for assessing the consequences of the active management that occurs in woodlands across the region.
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Fig. 12.7 Maps of much of New England comparing the extent of forest cover (left) and the area of natural open space that is legally protected from future development (right)
Managed forests and landscapes are also critical for biodiversity. The history of intensive land use across the region has favored a large number of species that thrive in open and shrubby habitats, young successional forests, and a heterogeneous and patchy landscape. Much of the wildlife and flora that people enjoy and are focused on maintaining would actually decline if the bulk of the protected forests were allowed to mature as wildland reserves (Foster and Motzkin 2003). Active management, including mowing of fields to prevent reforestation, harvesting to generate young and open woods and a patchy landscape structure, and burning of woodland and open habitats, is necessary to maintain the existing biodiversity of the region. Thus the conservation management of woodlands and other habitats serves many purposes, for both humans and nature (Foster 2002). The wildland and woodland approach combines the two major thrusts of the environmental movement, preservation and conservation. This melded approach involves management activities that are complementary and mutually supportive. It also promises to generate habitat conditions across the landscape that will be best suited to maintain and encourage the highest number of species and greatest diversity of habitats, ecosystems and conditions. Promotion of biodiversity thereby is one of the many benefits of this expansive effort to protect our forests and manage them well.
12.9 Woodland Councils: Resource and Catalyst There are substantial logistical and practical challenges confronting the execution of this vision. Given the fact that most land in the eastern United States lies in small private ownerships, one initial challenge is making thousands of individuals passionate
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about land protection and then engaging them in conservation deals (Kittredge 2005). Private landowners are an independent minded and diverse group who largely want to continue to own their land, which is often their major asset. Consequently, there is a need to protect considerable land from development through the purchase of development rights (establishment of conservation easements) on private holdings while meeting the financial needs of this group (Finley and Kittredge 2006). The Wildlands and Woodlands vision assumes that the majority of landowners will be sympathetic to the notion of protecting their land from development if they can receive fair compensation in return. It also assumes that effective outreach to this vast group of individuals and successful completion of the vision will only be possible through grassroots activity in which local communities and private landowners support the concept and effort. From this conviction and considerable experience supporting it, comes the notion of Woodland Councils or regional conservation partnerships. Protecting and managing sustainably 50% of the region’s woodlands in thousands of intermingled ownerships is a daunting proposition. This goal cannot be accomplished by sweeping public acquisition or regulatory fiat. What is needed is a collaborative, bottom-up, and voluntary approach that provides structure and guidance for those who aspire to conserve and manage their forests as part of a coherent program (Table 12.2). Consequently, the W&W vision proposes that in regions lacking effective regional conservation collaborations that regional Woodland Councils be established to lend new energy and focus to this effort. Most regional planning agencies provide communities with technical assistance in comprehensive land use planning and zoning, whereas watershed councils or associations help address water quality and quantity issues that relate to community development and non-point source pollution; neither focuses on the long-term conservation of forests. The importance of forests to our quality of life warrants the formation of regional groups devoted to forest protection and stewardship. While current programs such as Tree Farm, current-use tax programs and government underwritten free or cost-shared management activities have for decades reached out to a small segment of landowners, a much larger portion of the landowner population has been disinterested in these approaches (Finley and Kittredge 2006). Moreover, with hundreds of land trusts across a region like southern New England (Fig. 12.8), an improved structure could facilitate communication and coordination among the many groups already protecting and managing forests at the local level. Woodland Councils would help meet these needs by serving as an information resource and a project catalyst. As an information resource, Woodland Councils might gather thorough information on a region’s forests, compile maps and natural resource inventories, and provide landowners with access to current forest information in order to assist them with land protection and management in an ecologically coherent way. As project catalysts, Woodland Councils could work with individuals and organizations to identify lands for conservation, advance sustainable forestry practices and help interested individuals and organizations locate financial assistance to conserve and manage woodlands. In the long-term, they would provide timely assistance and up-to-date information to landowners and local communities, and help monitor the growing Woodland base.
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Table 12.2 Strategies for achieving the Wildlands and Woodlands vision State and Local Government
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Evaluate existing public lands to designate a substantial portion as large Wildland reserves by altering their management objectives Propose and adopt statutory language for the establishment, monitoring and preservation of large reserves on public lands Establish a secure, dedicated and substantial source of state land protection funds to acquire land or buy conservation easements on priority forestlands Support a functional current-use property tax program to provide annual tax relief to private landowners, in return for maintaining land as open space Pass regulatory and funding initiatives to encourage smart growth, historic preservation and clustered development to slow forest loss and fragmentation
Non-profit Sector & Conservation Organizations
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Advocate for the funding and activities described above Purchase, hold, and/or monitor protected land and conservation easements Promote the vision of protecting half of the land base in a region Adopt the inter-connected approach of Wildlands and Woodlands Organize or join a regional partnership to connect with landowners and to identify land protection opportunities at the landscape scale Match the public investment with funds from private individuals and foundations to protect and manage Wildlands and Woodlands in perpetuity Work to improve, communicate and collaborate between diverse conservation and forest products organizations
Landowners & Other Interested Citizens
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Donate land to a land trust to protect as either Wildlands of Woodlands Donate a conservation easement to protect your land in perpetuity Learn about land management options and develop a plan for the sustained management and permanent protection of your land, whether for biodiversity, aesthetics, natural process, or natural resources Join or create a local Woodland Council Take an active role in land protection policy and funding
Woodland Councils would be structured to involve local people and, like some existing partnerships, could include representatives of conservation organizations, land trusts, other non-profits, town conservation commissions, state agencies, private land owners, forest industries, and interested citizens. The Councils might be housed within a watershed association, land trust, or conservation organization depending on the circumstances in each region. They could be organized geographically according to ecological divisions such as ecoregions or major watersheds. Eventually, Councils could cover a large region in an ecologically coherent fashion at a practical scale for working on woodland issues. Several organizations across New England and North America are currently involved in the types of activities that are envisioned for Woodland Councils (see: www.wildlandsandwoodlands.org). This call to form Woodland Councils is not necessarily intended to create more organizations, rather it is meant to help more of these activities to flourish, and more informed forestry and land protection to occur in woodlands.
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Fig. 12.8 The diversity and extent of land trust activity across southern New England. Each dot represents a local, town-based land trust whereas the shading indicates regional land trusts. Note: the map does not depict statewide conservation organizations such as the Massachusetts Audubon Society and the Trustees of Reservations, national groups such as The Nature Conservancy, or state and federal agencies. These and land trusts represent a huge resource in the effort to protect and conserve forests and other natural areas
12.10 Wildlands and Woodlands and the Outlook for Eastern Forests When the first draft of the Wildlands and Woodlands report was completed in 2005, it was sent out for review to scientists, conservationists, and forest professionals regionally and nationally. Along with many positive and helpful comments came variations on a few pessimistic responses along with some pointed questions. One observation was that the timing for release of such a paper was atrocious: the Romney administration in Massachusetts was completely disinterested in conservation and had gutted state funding for land protection, while national political support for a new vision on land protection was deemed non-existent. Meanwhile, two major questions arose from the ranks of the already overworked conservation community: who would lead this unfunded effort and where would the money come from? From many quarters came skepticism that an adequate number of landowners were truly interested in protecting their land. And, perhaps most interesting and unexpected for the scientist authors, the strongest voice of concern regarding the entire effort came from their scientist peers. Many colleagues wrote to suggest that it was inappropriate for scientists to advocate for a particular conservation agenda, especially one as bold as protecting 50% of the landscape in perpetuity. The role of the scientist, many argued, was to hand
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off objective scientific results to policy makers, government leaders and conservation advocates who would then apply it as they best saw fit. The authors incorporated the helpful and critical comments into the manuscript, responded to many questions and concerns as best as they could and published the paper. Over time, the response by individuals, organizations, agencies and local communities have helped them to address the skeptics and offer hope for the future.1 The authors’ response to the comment that the timing for release of the paper was atrocious was straightforward. Wildlands and Woodlands is not written for any specific political moment: it is a vision for the future and forever. If this proposal is compelling – that 50% of the land cover of Massachusetts and much of the eastern United States should be permanently protected in woodlands managed for multiple values and large wildlands set aside as reserves – then the W&W vision should be circulated regardless of political or financial climate. Politicians come and go, and the fiscal setting for funding conservation projects waxes and wanes. A time will certainly come when new ideas are needed. Meanwhile, regarding leadership, the authors observed that W&W will succeed only to the extent that it motivates individual land owners, local communities, small to large organizations, and public agencies. W&W calls for more than simple forest protection; it requires a major shift in public thinking about conservation, stewardship and land ethics. W&W cannot be a top-down or prescriptive effort, it must emerge from the grassroots and engage communities, people and organizations that care for the land, for nature and for quality of life. While success will require that this occurs, only time will tell if the vision resonates with these groups (Fig. 12.9). The response and activities since the release of the W&W vision have underscored what a difference that three years and the efforts of many individuals and groups can make. On a state and even national level, outdated thinking on conservation’s place in public policy and its role in our state’s economic well-being are on their way out. Meanwhile, support for land protection, forest stewardship and improving local and global environments is rebounding. In Massachusetts, the administration of Governor Duval Patrick is promoting a major bond bill to increase land protection and a joint House-Senate committee is supporting the establishment of a Study Commission that would explore new alternatives for financing forest conservation. The study commission was prompted by the leadership of two individuals – James Levitt of the Harvard Kennedy School and Harvard Program on Conservation Innovation and Kathy Lambert of Ecologic – in spearheading a conference convened to discuss innovative sources of financing for large conservation programs like W&W. The roundtable, which was convened at the Harvard Center for the Environment and included national experts in conservation finance, produced a white paper setting out numerous options that the study commission plans to examine in further detail (Levitt and Fallon Lambert 2006). Meanwhile, other local and regional support for W&W efforts has been diverse and strong. Surveys confirm that the majority of landowners are indeed interested
1 The response to release and discussion of the Wildlands and Woodlands Report has been overwhelmingly positive from the public, conservation organizations, government agencies and the media. See Media at http://www.wildlandsandwoodlands.org/
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(b)
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Fig. 12.9 Three contrasting views of the New England landscape. (a) The town of Petersham in the late 1890s; (b) the same view in the late 1990s; and (c) a view of a landscape of forest and farmland that has been fragmented and perforated by housing development. The history of reforestation provides an opportunity and a need to prevent further widespread development
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in protecting their land (Kittredge 2005). In Massachusetts, hundreds of private landowners have declared the desire to protect their forest lands in perpetuity from development and nearly 100 are currently engaged in a novel aggregation project to protect more than 20,000 acres, led by Keith Ross of LandVest and the New England Natural Resources Center. Funding to explore innovative efforts such as aggregation, new financing for land protection, Woodland Councils and other regional partnerships, as well as outreach to landowners and small communities, has come from private foundations and individuals as well as state and federal sources. This support has enabled many land trusts and conservation organizations to add staff. This, in turn has provided one answer to the concern over exactly who would provide the capacity to promote W&W. Substantial additional capacity has developed as a coalition of nearly 50 organizations has come together in Massachusetts to form the Wildlands and Woodlands Partnership. Convened initially by Ted Smith at the Kendall Foundation and Wayne Klockner, director of The Massachusetts Nature Conservancy, the partnership meets quarterly to exchange information and coordinate efforts in support of the W&W vision. Meanwhile, Highstead, a Connecticut conservation organization and forest reserve, has hired a Regional Conservationist, Bill Labich, to promote W&W associated efforts across southern New England and to coordinate the Partnership. The intent of this new position is to research and distribute effective approaches to landscapelevel land protection and conservation and to assist the efforts of emerging regional partnerships and Woodland Councils. Finally, the scientist authors of W&W are comfortable in their role of releasing the W&W vision and discussing it broadly with fellow scientists, conservation professionals, policy makers, and local audiences. The vision is built on a historical and ecological understanding of the landscape of New England and the eastern United States and uses this to frame one possible outcome for its future. However, it does, quite arguably, represent personal opinion and take a subjective stance. But this group of scientists can no more sit back watching the forested landscape disappear than they can ignore and fail to speak out about global environmental problems. While it is not appropriate for scientists to lead the W&W effort, the authors can continue to advance conservation research, ecological studies, and educational efforts that will enhance and utilize the protected wildlands and woodlands emerging across the region.
12.11 Local and Global in Perspective The W&W vision for the forest’s future, like the concrete that covers newly developed landscapes, is forever. If this vision prompts substantial forest protection and conservation it will only be as a result of individuals and communities recognizing the benefits that natural ecosystems, including forests, yield to daily life. But, the larger benefit could come to local residents and the global community alike as the cumulative impact of forest stands and individual actions plays out across the world stage. There is hope that Massachusetts, New England and the eastern United States will seize the second chance that history has provided and treat their forests differently this time around.
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References Anonymous. (2007a). A policy framework for including avoided deforestation and active forest management practices as forest offset types in the RGGI Model Rule. Environment East, Manomet, Maine Forest Service and Department of Conservation. Anonymous. (2007b). Quabbin Reservoir watershed system: land management plan 2007–2017. Boston, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Department of Conservation and Recreation. Division of Water Supply Protection. Office of Watershed Management. Barford, C. C., Wofsy, S. C., Goulden, M. L., Munger, J. W., Hammond-Pyle, E., Urbanski, S. P., (2001). Factors controlling long- and short-term sequestration of atmospheric CO2 in a midlatitude forest. Science, 294, 1688–1691. Barten, P. K., Kyker-Snowman, T., Lyons, P. J., Mahlstedt, T., O’Connor, R., & Spencer, B. A. (1998). Managing a watershed protection forest. Journal of Forestry, 96(8), 10–15. Berlik, M. M., Kittredge, D. B., & Foster, D. R. (2002). The illusion of preservation: a global environmental argument for the local production of natural resources. Journal of Biogeography, 29, 1557–1568. Faison, E. (2006). Moose foraging in the temperate forests of Central Massachusetts: a natural rewilding experiment. Master’s of Forestry Science Thesis, Harvard University. Finley, A. O., & Kittredge, D. B. (2006). Thoreau, Muir, and Jane Doe: different types of private forest owners need different kinds of forest management. Northern Journal of Applied Forestry, 23, 27–34. Foster, C. H. W. (Ed.) (1998). Stepping back to look forward – a history of the Massachusetts forest. Petersham and Cambridge, MA: Harvard Forest and Harvard University Press. Foster, D. R. (1999). Thoreau’s country: journey through a transformed landscape. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Foster, D. R. (2001). Conservation lessons and challenges from ecological history. Forest History Today, Fall 2000, 2–11. Foster, D. R. (2002). Thoreau’s country: a historical-ecological perspective to conservation in the New England landscape. Journal of Biogeography, 29, 1537–1555. Foster, D. R., & Aber, J. D. (2004). Forests in time: the environmental consequences of 1000 years of change in New England. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Foster, D. R., & Motzkin, G. (2003). Interpreting and conserving the openland habitats of coastal New England: insights from landscape history. Forest Ecology and Management, 185, 127–150. Foster, D. R., Motzkin, G., Bernardos, G., Cardoza, J. (2002). Historical wildlife dynamics in Massachusetts: Responses to land cover and land-use changes. Journal of Biogeography, 29, 1337–1357. Foster, D. R., Swanson, F., Aber, J. D., Burke, I., Brokaw, N., Tilman, D., Knapp. A. (2003). The importance of land-use legacies to ecology and conservation. BioScience, 53, 77–88. Foster, D. R., Kittredge, D., Donahue, B., Motzkin, G., Orwig, D., Ellison, A. (2005). Wildlands and Woodlands: a vision for the forests of New England. http://www.wildlandsandwoodlands.org. Golodetz, A., & Foster, D. R. (1997). History and importance of land use and protection in the North Quabbin Region of Massachusetts. Conservation Biology, 11, 227–235. Hadley, J. L., Kuzeja, P. S., Daley, M. J., Phillips N. G., Mulcahy, T., Singh, S. (2008). Water use and carbon exchange of red oak and eastern hemlock dominated forests in the northeastern USA: implications for ecosystem-level effects of hemlock woolly adelgid. Tree Physiology, 28, 615–627. Hall, B., Motzkin, G., Foster, D. R., Syfert, M., Burk, J. (2002). Three hundred years of forest and land-use change in Massachusetts, USA. Journal of Biogeography, 29, 1319–1335. Kittredge, D. B. (2004). Extension/outreach implications for America’s family forests owners. Journal of Forestry, 102, 15–18. Kittredge, D. B. (2005). The cooperation of private forest owners on scales larger than one individual property: international examples and potential application in the United States. Forest Policy and Economics, 7, 671–688. Levitt, J. N., & Fallon Lambert, K. (2006). Report on the Woodlands and Wildlands conservation finance roundtable. Research publication. The program on conservation innovation at the Harvard Forest, Harvard University. http://harvardforest.fas.harvard.edu/ research/pci/WWCFR Report publication.pdf. Accessed 19 February 2008.
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Kittredge, D. B., Finley, A. O., Foster, D. R. (2003). Timber harvesting as ongoing disturbance in a landscape of diverse ownership. Forest Ecology and Management, 180, 425–442. MAS. (2003). Losing ground at what cost? Lincoln, MA: Massachusetts Audubon Society. McDonald, R. I., Motzkin, G., Bank, M. S., Kittredge, D. B., Burk, J., Foster, D. R. (2006). Forest harvesting and deforestation relationships over two decades in Massachusetts. Forest & Ecology Management, 227, 31–41. McLachlan, J., Foster, D. R., Menalled, F. (2000). Anthropogenic ties to late-successional structure and composition in four New England hemlock stands. Ecology, 81, 717–733. McKibben, W. (1995). An explosion of green. Atlantic Monthly, April, pages 61–83. Sampson, R. N., Grimland, S., Brown, S. (2006). Part 3C. Opportunities for sequestering carbon and offsetting emissions through production of biomass energy. In Terrestrial carbon sequestration in the Northeast: quantities and costs. Winrock International, The Nature Conservancy, and The Sampson Group. Report to US DOE-NETL Cooperative Agreement DE-FC26-01NT41151. Wofsy, S. C. (2001). Where has all the carbon gone? Science, 292, 2261–2263. Wofsy, S. C. (2004). The Harvard Forest and understanding the global carbon budget. In D. Foster & J. Aber (Eds.), Forests in time: the environmental consequences of 1000 years of change in New England (pp. 380–393). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Chapter 13
Creative Approaches to Preserving Biodiversity in Brazil and the Amazon Kathryn Hochstetler and Margaret E. Keck
Abstract Brazil is a country with substantial biodiversity, despite well-documented failures of environmental management. Its creative approaches to preserving biodiversity are less well known and will be covered in this chapter. These include the concepts of extractive reserves and multi-scaled environmental protection networks. International actors have often been crucial supports for these efforts, but their success depends on strong domestic partners, including an increasingly important judicial system.
Brazil is one of the world’s most “mega-diverse” countries, with its Amazon and Atlantic forests and the Pantanal wetlands playing host to as many as 10–20% of the world’s species. At the same time, Brazil is world famous as a degrader of its immense eco systems, with areas the size of Maryland or Vermont being cleared annually through the 1990s. These two opposed observations are typical of Brazilian environmental politics, which are a complex tangle of steps forward and backward in many respects (Hochstetler 2002, Hochstetler and Keck 2007). This chapter will focus on some of the more positive initiatives of modern Brazilian environmental politics, which have allowed environmentalists there not just to block or delay some degrading projects, but also to create new projects that actively preserve biodiversity. In general, environmental protection efforts tend to fall in one of two broad categories. Single species initiatives – “Save the whale,” the Bengal tiger, the Golden lion tamarin, and so on – spotlight a particular species and focus on what it needs for preservation. The contrasting approach of habitat conservation focuses on larger ecosystems that support the multiple plant and animal species within them. Habitat approaches are more likely to include the human species as one of those whose needs are considered in balance with those of other species. A focus on habitats also extends more easily to thinking about environmental needs in habitats that are primarily human habitats, such as urban and industrial (workplace) habitats. In the Brazilian context, most successful efforts to save biological diversity will focus on habitat rather than on single species initiatives and must find room to integrate human needs into the equation. In a country that continues to be among the most economically unequal in the world, tens of millions of Brazilians live in deep poverty. Many of them live in the rural areas where much of Brazil’s wealth of biodiversity is found. That biodiversity cannot be conserved without attention to human needs. Brazilian environmentalists have tried a variety of formulations to show they R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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understand the intersection of social and environmental problems in their country, from the Green Party’s talk of poliseria (pollution plus misery) in campaigns in the 1980s to new environmental justice networks with the turn of the millennium (Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 224). This conclusion is supported by public opinion results: while 45% of Brazilians recognized deforestation as an environmental problem in 1997, more than any other environmental problem,1 there is little evidence that many of them respond to more narrowly cast single species initiatives.2 Thus this chapter will reflect many Brazilians’ conviction that environmental strategies work only when they consider a broad web of both human and non-human needs. The problem has been how to construct policies that reflect these concerns. We begin by surveying Brazilian policies that specifically address conservation aims through various kinds of protected areas. The following sections then discuss two developments in Brazil that not only are not specifically focused on conserving biodiversity, they are not even government policies. The first of these is the strengthening of the Minist´erio P´ublico (Public Ministry) institution, which is like a public prosecutor’s office. In the 1980s, the Minist´erio P´ublico was given new authority to defend collective interests like environmental and consumer protection – these involve public goods that, like clean air, are provided to everyone if they are provided to anyone. The Minist´erio P´ublico has the ability to challenge both government and private actors inside and outside of the court system for environmental degradation, among other things. The second development involves what we call multi-scale environmental protection networks. These are coalitions of actors that may be either public or private, who are found at different political levels, e.g., Brazilian actors working with international supporters, or actors in one of Brazil’s better-organized states supporting grassroots activists in another state as they try to protect their local environments.
13.1 Protected Areas in Brazil Can ecosystems be protected with people living and working in them, or do they need to be isolated from human influence? This long-standing question of ecosystem management (e.g., Brandon et al. 1998, Peres and Zimmerman 2001, Gareau 2007) recently flared into controversy – again – when anthropologist Mac Chapin of the Center for Native Lands issued a “Challenge to Conservationists” in World Watch magazine. In this article, he accuses major U.S. conservationist organizations of having backed away from a commitment to work with local indigenous peoples in the Americas (Chapin 2004). The ensuing heated discussion in the magazine and many other places has not resolved the issue. Brazil has experimented with a number of models for trying to protect its collectively owned ecosystems, in the Amazon and beyond (Mittermeier et al. 2005). Initially, policy makers saw their options as polarized between a model which limited acceptable uses to science and research and a model of large scale forest products extraction (Foresta 1991). In the years since, environmentalists and associated forest peoples have collaborated with governments at federal and state levels in promoting additional models that allow extraction, but on a smaller scale. Indigenous lands are one version of these, as are the extractive reserves discussed in more detail below. They join forest reserves in what Brazilian environmental agencies call sustainable use
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protected areas (as opposed to holistic protected areas, meaning those with no human occupation except for scientific purposes).3 As of 2006, about 67,500,000 hectares of land were in 277 federal conservation units of all varieties and over 30,000,000 hectares under state conservation (Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 2), with indigenous reserves adding another 105,700,000 hectares in 488 units in 2007.4 The total, stated in a different unit of measurement, was over 1,160,000 km2 in 2005 (calculated from Mittermeier et al. 2005: 602–3) and continues to rise. This massive patchwork of collectively owned conservation units is joined with extensive regulation of the use of private lands, which dates back to the Forest Code of 1965 and even before. In addition, Brazilians have been legislating since 1981 on the need to undertake comprehensive national ecological and economic analyses that would create a country-wide map of where different kinds of land use can be sustainably practiced (Law 6938/81, Article 9). This process, known in Brazil as ecologicaleconomic zoning (ZEE), was finally regulated in July 2002 (Decree 4297/02), in ways that allow political units at any geographic level to undertake such zoning using a common set of tools and methodologies. The ZEE data as well as final development plans must be available to the general public and the resulting zoning cannot be altered for ten years, except to increase the strictness of environmental protections. As even the most casual observer of the Brazilian environment knows, the creation of conservation units and the writing of conservation laws have not prevented equally massive rates of deforestation and forest and land degradation (Nepstad et al. 1999, Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 2). Overall, though, official protection does make a difference in conservation outcomes in Brazil. A satellite-based comparison of deforestation rates in Brazil’s various protected areas in the Amazon region concluded that all the kinds of protected areas show more deforestation in the areas outside the reserves than inside them. The most protection (or what the authors call inhibition of deforestation) was apparent for the parks without inhabitants (Nepstad et al. 2006: 69). The clear advantage for unoccupied protected areas disappears when the researchers take levels of immediate pressure for deforestation into account. Most of the unoccupied parks are far from the agricultural and extraction frontiers, while occupied and especially indigenous protected areas are in the thick of development pressures. Once the level of threat is included, both occupied and unoccupied protected areas do about the same in inhibiting deforestation (Nepstad et al. 2006: 69–70). Rates of deforestation vary quite a bit within each type of protected area; when occupied areas do well at inhibiting deforestation, it is because those occupants actively protect their own livelihoods and forms of resource use from more intensively degrading uses (Nepstad et al. 2006, Campos and Nepstad 2006). Others have noted that protected areas may actually have higher rates of deforestation than neighboring unprotected areas if they try to exclude traditional users of resources (Hodge et al. 1997, Slater 1995). All of these observations support the conviction of many Brazilian environmentalists that their conservation menu must have at least some options that include human occupants. These options must provide occupants with the incentives and support necessary for pursuing their livelihoods within conservation areas. These are probably especially necessary in the areas of high development pressure (Peres and Zimmerman 2001). One of the earliest and most innovative models Brazilians developed for integrating environment and community development concerns came to be called the extractive
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reserve. A conservation unit oriented to promote sustainable use of forest resources, the extractive reserve model has recently been extended to marine ecosystems as well. In 2007, 75 extractive reserves existed, at varying levels of institutionalization and success. All of them share a focus on traditional extractive populations (not necessarily indigenous), whose small-scale agriculture, animal husbandry, and resource gathering activities do not – at least ideally – undermine long-term ecosystem sustainability. Rubber tapper Chico Mendes, assassinated in 1988, helped develop the prototype, which reflected his multiple concerns: “We accepted that the Amazon could not be turned into some kind of sanctuary that nobody could touch. On the other hand, we knew it was important to stop the deforestation that is threatening the Amazon and all human life on the planet. We felt our alternative should involve preserving the forest, but it should also include a plan to develop the economy” (Mendes 1989: 41). Thus the extractive reserves are not against development and use of ecosystems, but they are an alternative to particularly unsustainable forms of development. Some of the extractive reserves’ lessons about working with local populations to incorporate their knowledge into conservation practices have been replicated in other aspects of Amazonian planning, such as participatory mapping projects (Wood and Porro 2002). The extractive reserves build on local populations’ ecological knowledge and control over collectively owned land to achieve conservation. As with other kinds of protected areas with human occupation, their ability to inhibit degradation depends both on their own practices and on the ways that their presence can deter activities that would be even more destructive. These two dimensions are somewhat opposed in that their own impact is likely to be lower when their population density is lower, while their ability to deter outsiders rises with their population. On balance, the extractive reserves seem to have deterred deforestation (Schwartzman et al. 2000; Nepstad et al. 2006). Their protective capacity is lower than that of all other kinds of protected areas, however, and the difference between levels of degradation inside and outside these reserves was not statistically significant (Nepstad et al. 2006). Others have argued that local extinction or near-depletion of wildlife has occurred in both indigenous and extractive reserves (Peres and Zimmerman 2001: 795). There is also some tension between the extraction rules set up to try to conserve biodiversity and the ability of these reserves to be truly economically sustainable (Goeschl and Igliori 2007). Still, they have played important roles in protecting smallholders and their generally less-harmful economic practices. The ability of extractive reserves to play their intended role depends on a number of external forces (Hall 1997) – from government agencies that help to legally create, demarcate, and protect reserve boundaries to NGOs and alternative marketing networks that provide critical political and economic supports. The activities of these may either enhance or block the success of the reserves in their multiple dimensions. Even with a historic rubber tapper, Marina Silva, as Minister of the Environment since 2003, all these conservation forces together face extremely high levels of violent conflict over land rights in the Amazon, with control over the natural resources on those lands elevating the stakes of the land struggles. When Sister Dorothy Stang was yet another victim of assassination over land issues at the end of 2005, the government responded by creating new extractive reserves (Campos and Nepstad 2006). Yet while extractive reserves are a promising resolution of some environmental issues, they clearly cannot resolve the broader problems of the Amazon on their own.
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´ 13.2 The Minist´erio Publico in Environmental Conservation Many of Brazil’s environmental protection activities are increasingly backed up by the Brazilian judicial system. While this is routine in the United States, it is uncommon in other parts of the developed world and virtually unheard of in the developing world. Even in Brazil, the larger legal culture has been one where the law is applied quite unevenly by class and political connections, and impunity for the powerful is common. Many laws – as just noted in the discussion of conservation areas and regulation of private deforestation – fail to lead to their intended outcomes: “the passage of an environmental law or issuance of a regulation is but the opening move of the political struggle required to make it meaningful. The implementation struggle is at least as important as the effort made to get it passed in the first place” (Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 52). Thus the emergence of a legal dimension to environmental protection in Brazil needs to be explained, rather than assumed. The key actor in this development is the Ministerio P´ublico, literally Public Ministry, which has been developing in strength and importance since the 1970s. (Its closest equivalent in the U.S. legal system would be the district attorney’s office, but it is sufficiently distinct that we use its Portuguese name here.) Perhaps the most important developments were its reorientation from criminal prosecution to civil suits and then the passage of a law in 1985 (Law of Public Action Suits, Law 7437/85) that greatly expanded its role in defending diffuse public interests (Arantes 2002, Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 52–53). After 1985, the Minist´erio P´ublico could take on both governmental and private actors to protect diffuse interests like the interest of environmental protection.5 The Minist´erio P´ublico’s prosecutors may initiate investigations on their own – perhaps after reading a news story on a topic – and are actually obligated to initiate and complete investigations if they receive a complaint (McAllister 2004: 132). Environmental and community organizations can thus set the investigative process in motion at very little cost and without needing to have a great deal of information about alleged environmental infractions. One of the Minist´erio P´ublico’s most powerful tools is that all actors, including government agencies and powerful economic actors, are required to respond to its requests for information. The prosecutors of the Minist´erio P´ublico can back up these demands with their extensive powers to pursue court cases or offer settlement agreements known as Conduct Adjustment Agreements, whose implementation is then monitored. This set of capacities has in turn made serious inroads against the traditional impunity of environmental law-breakers in Brazil. To give some sense of the extent of the Minist´erio P´ublico’s activities, the S˜ao Paulo state Minist´erio P´ublico (there are both federal and state versions) carried out more than 21,000 investigations there between 1985 and 2001 (McAllister 2004: 136). There is no breakdown of these numbers by issue, but environmental and consumer complaints are among the most common. The S˜ao Paulo office filed an average of 176 environmental public interest suits each year between 1984 and 2001, while the number of Conduct Adjustment Agreements reached 1000 in the year 2000 (McAllister 2004:151–152). Each of these actions represents one more step toward ensuring Brazil’s environmental laws – themselves extensive and fairly modern (Hochstetler 2002) – get implemented. The Minist´erio P´ublico’s actions often serve at least to slow or block a potentially degrading project or activity until it can be
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further discussed and evaluated. Due to the importance of environmental cases in the Minist´erio P´ublico’s workload, prosecutors increasingly specialize in those kinds of cases, with more than 2000 such specialists in 2002, including about 200 who worked only on environmental cases (McAllister 2004: 123–124). Raising what will be a recurrent theme in this chapter, the Minist´erio P´ublico is weaker in the Amazon than in the south of Brazil. None of Brazil’s other 26 subnational units comes anywhere close to the level of action of S˜ao Paulo’s Minist´erio P´ublico. In Par´a, an Amazonian state that has had some of the worst environmental degradation and associated rural violence, the state Minist´erio P´ublico hardly functions (McAllister 2004). It lacks the political independence, resources, and initiative of its southern counterpart. Instead, the federal Minist´erio P´ublico has played a lead role there, but it also is not nearly as active as the S˜ao Paulo branch and is hampered by its outsider status. Even in Par´a and other parts of the Amazon, however, the existence of the Minist´erio P´ublico means that there is one more actor present in the local politics of the environment, and the Minist´erio P´ublico itself is virtually always supportive of greater levels of environmental protection.
13.3 Multi-scale Environmental Protection Networks A third strategy that has been used by Brazilians to protect the environment is what we call multi-scale environmental protection networks. This is a fancy label for a simple observation: because the challenges to effective resource conservation come from many kinds of actors at local to global geographic levels, conservation strategies cannot rely on just one kind of actor and action, such as governmental conservation policy. Both state and private actors will frequently need to coordinate their activities through networks, and they will need to meet the scale of the challenges, be they local, national, or global. Some of the best-known of these networks have included actors from outside Brazil, including governments, scientists, and environmental activists. Brazilian environmentalists have sought and found a remarkable array of international allies for their efforts. The contacts are dense enough that it can be difficult to sort out just who is a “foreigner” and who is “Brazilian” (Hochstetler and Keck 2007). In the 1970s and 1980s, Brazil was one of the fulcrums of what became a key strategy of the global environmental movement. Chico Mendes and his rubber tappers linked with U.S.based multi-lateral bank campaigners to form one of the most prominent transnational activist networks for environmental protection. They successfully used their network to pressure the banks into beginning a long process of reformulating their procedures for considering environmental and local considerations, including in Brazil (Keck and Sikkink 1998). In these internationalized networks, there have been international and Brazilian actors on both sides of the conservation versus development debate. Local landowners and cattle ranchers strongly supported state and federal administrations that sought international loans and private investments to develop roads and expand the cattle and lumber industries in the Amazon. Local grassroots activists seeking to protect traditional extractive activities and land claims joined in turn with mostly extraregional environmental activists and agencies within Brazil (these have been weak
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in the Amazon region itself) and then international environmentalists and scientists, as well as some governments from around the world. International financing for road and development projects was successfully blocked a number of times in the 1980s and 1990s, although projects often continued after reformulation (Kolk 1996, Keck and Sikkink 1998). Despite the presence of all these actors, the necessary linchpin seems to have been the strength of local organizations responsive to sustainability concerns. When they were present and strong, as in Acre state, they were able to articulate an alternative development strategy that undermined the blanket opposition of environment and development – an opposition that virtually always tipped to the development side in local and state politics. When local grassroots conservation supporters were absent, as in Rondˆonia state, sub-national politicians could resist international pressures for conservation much more readily (Keck 1998). This kind of “boomerang” strategy, which draws in foreign actors to support Brazilian domestic environmentalists in resisting government and private development initiatives (Keck and Sikkink 1998: 12–13), has been successful enough in Brazil to regularly trigger nationalist backlashes against “internationalization of the Amazon” and other claims that Brazilians have lost control of their national territory (Kolk 1996). The National Congress regularly holds hearings, for example, on whether international NGOs and scientists are undermining Brazilian sovereignty and the military publicly shares the Congress’s worries. The military through its air force now controls one of the most important sources of environmental data in the Amazon, the System for Vigilance of the Amazon (SIVAM) program, which uses satellite technology to regularly scan the Amazon for evidence of contraband smuggling, drug-related activities, border crossing – and deforestation. In one early response to the charges of internationalization, popular and scientific groups from all over Brazil, but especially the Amazon, created the Amazon Working Group (Grupo de Trabalho Amazˆonico – GTA) in 1992, as Brazil was preparing to host the United Nations’s Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro. The GTA’s slogan on its webpage still reads “Instead of internationalizing the Amazon, let’s amazonize the world.”6 The hundreds of member organizations, in 16 regional collectives, take as their starting point that local communities are the best guardians of biodiversity and the future of the Amazon. They are small farmers, rubber tappers, indigenous peoples, babac¸u coconut cultivators, fisherfolk, river and quilombola7 dwellers, as well as environmentalists and other organizations that assist with technical matters, communications, and human rights issues. Since 2003, they have made a special point of working against a model that would conceive of conservation as islands of protected public areas surrounded by devastated private lands where any kind of development is allowed. In its place, the GTA wants more integration of environment and development concerns on all lands, rather than this bifurcated model. The GTA, itself a network of networks, lists 57 partners on its website, about half of which are themselves also networks of activists or networks of networks of activists. Just a few of these partners include FBOMS (Brazilian Forum of NGOs and Social Movements for the Environment and Development), a Brazil-wide network also formed during preparations for the 1992 United Nations conference; the World Social Forum; the Pilot Program of the world’s seven richest countries and a number of Brazilian state and non-state partners for Amazon conservation; Inter-Redes, a Brazilian network of networks originally created to challenge the economic policies
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of the International Monetary Fund in Brazil; and the Brazilian Environmental Justice Network. The recently-created (2001) Brazilian Environmental Justice Network has begun to try to replicate the boomerang strategy more systematically within Brazil itself (Hochstetler and Keck 2007: 216–221). This strategy is necessary because Brazil’s 26 states and the federal district have vastly different levels of environmental capacity. The strength of environmental laws, agencies, and social movements vary dramatically from one part of Brazil to another, and the three tend to be present or absent together. All are strong in S˜ao Paulo and southern regions of Brazil, but usually weak in the Amazon region. The Environmental Justice Network tries to coordinate action across Brazil that will prevent the geographic relocation of environmental hazards and risk from more to less regulated areas. For example, it can identify connections between the mercury contamination caused by gold miners in the Amazon and that caused by multinational corporations in S˜ao Paulo, and create activist links between the two sets of victims. As coordinator Juliana Malerba remarked, the Network grew from the recognition that the environment would not be protected unless everyone’s “backyard” was protected, as opposed to the “not in my backyard” (NIMBY) critique sometimes leveled at environmental activists.8 The Network is also yet another effort to try to bridge the frequent gap between those concerned with environmental protection and those seeking development, and it has been successful in reaching a set of unionists not previously associated with environmental ideas in Brazil. In short, Brazilian conservation and environmental proponents have frequently used networking strategies to promote their agendas. At times they work toward government policies of the kind outlined in the section on protected areas, but at other times they are more concerned with blocking certain governmental policies and/or the funding for them. Some of their networks aim directly at influencing private economic actors, bypassing the government sector altogether – or including policy makers and bureaucrats as part of their alliances. Activists have found that they need these kinds of multi-scale environmental protection networks because of the ways that environmental and development outcomes are shaped at all political levels, from local to national to regional to global.
13.4 Conclusion This chapter has outlined some of the strategies used by Brazilians to try to protect their country’s extensive ecological patrimony. These strategies begin with legal provisions such as conservation regulations and the creation of different kinds of protected areas. Such government-based policy strategies have received an important support from the development of the Minist´erio P´ublico, whose investigative and judicial powers have helped to enforce laws in a country with a weak legal culture. Finally, networks of activists at many geographic levels, including both state and non-state participants, have stepped in to further push Brazil toward true environmental protection. In this chapter, we have focused on the positive achievements of these initiatives and actors, but ongoing high rates of deforestation and environmental degradation indicate that there is still considerable room for improvement.
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A major theme of the chapter is that Brazilians will need to continue to consider both conservation and development needs as they seek to deepen environmental protection. Many of the success stories include local grassroots participants, whose moderate resource extraction presents a middle way between untouched reserves and unlimited extractive activities for the Brazilian and global marketplaces. The politics of the environment in Brazil and the very meager living standards of many Brazilians require ongoing efforts to try to capture the essence of the concept of sustainable development, even though it is not as fashionable or eagerly anticipated as it was when Brazil hosted the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development in 1992.
Notes 1. This survey, “O Que o Brasil Pensa Sobre o Meio Ambiente, Desenvolvimento e Sustentabilidade,” was conducted by the Museu de Astronomia (MAST) and the non-governmental organization ISER (Institute for the Study of Religion) in 1992 and 1997, with support from Brazilian national environmental agencies. 2. There are just a few exceptions, such as the campaign to protect the Golden lion tamarin, which was important in early conservation politics. See Mittermeier et al. 2005: 605. 3. This presentation greatly over-simplifies the various models currently in use. The Ministry of the Environment oversees five different kinds of holistic protection and seven of sustainable use. Indigenous reserves, which are part of the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), are in addition to these, and would fall in the sustainable use category. 4. www.funai.gov.br. 5. Diffuse interests are “meta-individual” interests, meaning they do not require a direct impact on individuals to be recognized in a court. Related terms are collective interests or homogenous/group interests (McAllister 2004: 91 n. 139). 6. www.gta.org.br. 7. The quilombola communities once were hideaways for runaway slaves and now have many of their descendants as inhabitants. 8. Interview with Julianna Malerba, Official, Projeto Brasil Sustent´avel e Democr´atico, FASE, and administrator of Environmental Justice Network (Rio de Janeiro, 5 August 2005).
References Arantes, R. B. (2002). Minist´erio p´ublico e pol´ıtica no Brasil. S˜ao Paulo: EDUC/Sumar´e/FAPESP. Brandon, K., Redford, K.H., Sanderson, S.E. (Eds.). (1998). Parks in peril: people, politics, and protected areas. Washington, DC: Island Press. Campos, M., Nepstad, D.C. (2006). Smallholders, the Amazon’s new conservationists. Conservation Biology, 20(5), 1553–1556. Chapin, M. (2004). A challenge to conservationists. World Watch, November/December, 17–31. Foresta, R. A. (1991). Amazon conservation in the age of development: the limits of providence. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Gareau, B. J. (2007). Ecological values amid local interests: natural resource conservation, social differentiation, and human survival in Honduras. Rural Sociology, 72(2), 244–268. Goeschl, T., Igliori, D. C. (2007). Property rights for biodiversity conservation and development: extractive reserves in the Brazilian Amazon. Development and Change, 37(2), 427–451. Hall, A. (1997). Sustaining Amazonia: grassroots action for productive conservation. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Hochstetler, K. (2002). Brazil. In H Weidner & M. J¨anicke (Eds.), Capacity building in national environmental policy: a comparative study of 17 countries (pp. 69–95). Berlin: Springer-Verlag.
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Hochstetler, K., & Keck, M.E. (2007). Greening Brazil: environmental activism in state and society. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hodge, S.S., Hering de Queiroz, M., Reis, A. (1997). Brazil’s national Atlantic forest policy: a challenge for state-level environmental planning. The case of Santa Catarina, Brazil. Journal of Environmental Planning and Management, 40(3), 335–348. Keck, M. E. (1998). Planafloro in Rondˆonia: the limits of leverage. In J.A. Fox & L. D. Brown (Eds.), The search for accountability: the World Bank, NGOs, and grassroots movements. Cambridge: MIT Press. Keck, M.E., & Sikkink, K. (1998). Activists beyond borders: advocacy networks in international politics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Kolk, A. (1996). Forests in international environmental politics: international organisations, NGOs, and the Brazilian Amazon. Utrecht, Netherlands: International Books. McAllister, L. (2004). Environmental enforcement and the rule of law in Brazil. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, Department of Energy and Resources. Mendes, C., with Gross, T. (1989). Fight for the forest: Chico Mendes in his own words. London: Latin America Bureau. Mittermeier, R. A., Fonseca, G. A. B., Rylands, A. B., Brandon, K. (2005). A brief history of biodiversity conservation in Brazil. Conservation Biology, 19(3), 601–607. Nepstad, D., Schwartzmann, S., Bamberger, B., Santilli, M., Ray, D., Schlesinger, P., Lefebvre, P., Alencar, A., Prinz, E., Fiske, G., Rolla, A. (2006). Inhibition of Amazon deforestation and fire by parks and indigenous lands. Conservation Biology, 20(1), 65–73. Nepstad, D. C., Ver´ıssimo, A., Alencar, A., Nobre, C., Lima, E., Lefebvre, P., Schlesinger, P., Potter, C., Moutinho, P., Mendoza, E., Cochrane, M., Brooks, V. (1999). Large-scale impoverishment of Amazonian forests by logging and fire. Nature, 398(6727), 505–508. Peres, C. A., Zimmerman, B. (2001). Perils in parks or parks in peril? Reconciling conservation in Amazonian reserves with and without use. Conservation Biology, 15(3), 793–797. Schwartzman, S., Nepstad, D., Moreira, A. (2000). Rethinking tropical forest conservation: perils in parks. Conservation Biology, 14(5), 1351–1357. Slater, C. (1995). Amazonia as edenic narrative. In W. Cronon (Ed.), Uncommon ground: toward reinventing nature. New York: Norton. Wood, C. H., & R. Porro (Eds.). (2002). Deforestation and land use in the Amazon. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.
Chapter 14
Anthropogenic Carbon Dioxide Emissions and Ocean Acidification: The Potential Impacts on Ocean Biodiversity William C. G. Burns
Ocean acidification has the potential to cause large-scale changes in the structure of ecosystems and may pose a greater threat to ocean ecosystems than the effects of global warming or local effects of fishing.1
Abstract Most of the focus in recent years on the potential impacts of rising levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere linked to anthropogenic activities has been on the ramifications of atmospheric warming for ecosystems and human institutions. However, there is growing evidence that the gravest peril for ocean species may be acidification of the world’s oceans as a consequence of the influx of carbon dioxide absorbed in oceans as carbon dioxide emissions. This chapter assesses the likely impacts of ocean acidification on marine species, including calcifying species and fish. Ocean acidification may dictate changes in institutional strategies in the context of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change and the Kyoto Protocol and may spur litigation in other international flora. However, a critical foundational agenda is a robust research program to comprehensively assess potential ocean acidification impacts and adaptation strategies.
14.1 Introduction As the Executive Secretary of the Convention on Biological Diversity, Ahmed Djoghlaf, recently observed, “[c]limate change has become one of the greatest drivers of biodiversity loss.”2 Indeed, the latest assessment by the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) concluded that 20–30% of species would likely face an increased risk of extinction if globally averaged temperatures rise 1.5–2.5◦ C above 1980–1999 levels, and that 40–70% of species could be rendered extinct should temperature increases exceed 3.5◦ C,3 a temperature scenario that is becoming increasingly possible by the end of this century.4 A large portion of the species that are imperiled inhabit the world’s oceans, including many species of fish,5 marine mammals,6 coral reef organisms,7 and plankton.8 The vast majority of oceanic climate research in recent years has focused on the potential impacts of increasing temperatures on ocean ecosystems as a consequence of rising levels of anthropogenically-generated carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases, including methane, nitrous oxide and chlorofluorocarbons. However, there is R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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growing evidence that the gravest peril for ocean species may be posed by what Fabry has termed “the other CO2 problem,”9 acidification of the world’s oceans as a consequence of the influx of carbon dioxide generated by human activities. This chapter assesses the threat posed by ocean acidification during this century and beyond. In this pursuit it: 1) outlines the science associated with ocean acidification; 2) assesses the likely impacts of ocean acidification on species and ecosystems over a horizon of the next three hundred years; and 3) lays out an agenda for future research.
14.2 Ocean Acidification: Overview Prior to the Industrial Revolution, atmospheric concentrations of naturally occurring greenhouse gases, including water vapor or moisture, carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide and ozone,10 had been relatively stable for ten thousand years.11 As a consequence, the net incoming solar radiation at the top of the atmosphere was roughly balanced by net outgoing infrared radiation.12 However, with the advent of fossil fuel burning plants to support industry, automobiles, and the energy demands of modern consumers, as well as the substantial expansion of other human activities, including agricultural production, “humans began to interfere seriously in the composition of the atmosphere”13 by emitting large amounts of additional greenhouse gases. The human-driven buildup of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere has resulted in “radiative forcing.” That is, increased levels of greenhouse gases result in greater absorption of outgoing infrared radiation and ultimately an increase in temperatures when a portion of this radiation is re-radiated to the Earth’s surface.14 The most important anthropogenic greenhouse gas over the past two centuries has been carbon dioxide, which is primarily attributable to fossil fuel combustion,15 cement production, and land-use change.16 Since 1751, over 297 billion metric tons of carbon has been released into the atmosphere from anthropogenic sources, with half of the emissions occurring since 1978.17 Atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide were approximately 280 parts per million (ppm) at the start of the Industrial Revolution in the 1780s. It took a century and a half to reach atmospheric concentrations of 315 ppm. The trend accelerated in the 20th Century, reaching 360 ppm by the 1990s, and 384 ppm currently,18 which exceeds atmospheric levels for at least the last 650,000 years,19 and most likely the past 20 million years.20 Approximately 7.1 gigatons of carbon are currently emitted annually by human activities.21 However, about 2.0 gigatons of carbon, or approximately 25–30% of annual anthropogenic emissions, are absorbed by oceans,22 with 3.3 gigatons accumulating continuously in the atmosphere.23 The oceans have absorbed approximately 525 gigatons of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere over the past 200 years,24 a rate ten times the natural historical rate.25 Over the next millennium, it is estimated that the world’s oceans will absorb 90% of anthropogenic carbon dioxide currently being released into the atmosphere.26 While chemically neutral in the atmosphere, carbon dioxide in the ocean is chemically active.27 As carbon dioxide dissolves in seawater, it reacts with water molecules
14 Anthropogenic Carbon Dioxide Emissions and Ocean Acidification Fig. 14.1 Impacts of carbon dioxide on ocean chemistry
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CO2 + H2O ↔ H2CO3 H2CO3 ↔ H++ HCO3– + CO32–
(H2 O) to form a weak acid, carbonic acid (H2 CO3 ), the same weak acid found in carbonated beverages. Like all acids, carbonic acid then releases hydrogen ions (H+ ) into solution;28 leaving both bicarbonate ions (HCO− 3 ) and, to a lesser extent, carbonate 29 ) in the solution (Fig. 14.1). The acidity of ocean waters is determined ions (CO2− 3 by the concentration of hydrogen ions, which is measured on the pH scale. The higher the level of hydrogen ions in a solution, the lower the pH.30 The increase of atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide since the advent of the Industrial Revolution has decreased surface pH values by 0.12 units.31 While this may not sound like a substantial change, the pH scale is logarithmic.32 Thus, a 0.1 unit change in pH translates into a 30% increase in hydrogen ions.33 The pH of the world’s oceans now stands at approximately 8.2, with a variation of about ±0.3 units because of local, regional and seasonal variations.34 The pH unit change over the past 150 years is probably the greatest seen over the past several million years.35 While increases in ocean acidification have been substantial to date,36 far more dramatic changes are likely to occur during this century and beyond as a substantial portion of burgeoning levels of anthropogenic carbon dioxide emissions enter the world’s oceans. Under a “business as usual” scenario, carbon dioxide emissions are projected to grow at 2% annually during the remainder of this century,37 although emissions have grown far more substantially in the past six years,38 exceeding even the upper range of the projections of the IPCC.39 The IPCC in its Special Report on Emissions Scenarios projected that carbon dioxide emissions could be as high as 37 gigatons of carbon annually by 2100, with the median and mean of all scenarios being 15.5 and 17 GtC, respectively.40 Atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide may reach twice pre-industrial levels by as early as 2050,41 and could triple or quadruple by 2100.42 The “business as usual” scenario for carbon dioxide emissions during this century, in turn, is projected to result in a tripling of dissolved carbon dioxide in seawater by 2100, producing an additional decline in ocean pH by approximately 0.3–0.4 units.43 Moreover, continued oceanic absorption of carbon dioxide may result in a further decline of pH levels of 0.77 units by 2300, reaching levels not seen for the past 300 million years, with the possible exception of rare, extreme events.44 These levels will persist for thousands of years even after oceanic concentrations of carbon dioxide begin to decline.45 As the United Kingdom’s Royal Society recently observed, “seawater pH is a critical variable in marine systems; even small changes will have a large impact on ocean chemistry.”46 As discussed in the next section, the changes in ocean chemistry precipitated by acidification are likely to exert profound and highly adverse impacts on ocean species and ecosystems.
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14.3 Potential Impacts of Ocean Acidification 14.3.1 Impacts on Calcifying Species 14.3.1.1 Overview As indicated above, rising levels of carbon dioxide result in a substantial increase in the release of hydrogen ions, which lowers oceanic pH levels. One important consequence of the release of hydrogen ions is that they combine with any carbonate ions in the water to form bicarbonate, thus removing substantial amounts of carbonate ions from solution (Fig. 14.2).47 The uptake of anthropogenic carbon dioxide by the oceans has already resulted in a 10% decline (∼30 mol kg−1 ) in carbonate concentrations compared to pre-industrial levels,48 and is likely to precipitate a 50% decline by 2100.49 The saturation of seawater with carbonate ions is extremely important for marine species that construct their shells or skeletons with limestone (calcium carbonate, CaCO3 ) in a process known as calcification. These species include most corals, mollusks, echinoderms, foraminifera and calcareous algae.50 The shells and skeletons of such species do not dissolve because the upper layers of the ocean are supersaturated with calcium (Ca2+ ) and carbonate ions.51 However, as the pH of the oceans drops as a consequence of rising levels of carbon dioxide, carbonate levels begin to drop, ultimately resulting in an undersaturation of carbonate ions, which in turn impairs the calcification process.52 Calcium carbonate occurs primarily in two forms in marine organisms, aragonite and calcite. Aragonite more easily dissolves when oceanic carbonate concentrations fall; thus, organisms with aragonite structures will be most severely impacted by ocean acidification.53 14.3.1.2 Coral Reefs Among the most imperiled species may be coral reef building organisms, which must deposit aragonitic calcium carbonate in excess of physical, biological and chemical erosion to facilitate the building of a scaffolding or framework for coral reefs.54 Studies have documented that coral organisms produce calcium carbonate more slowly as the extent of carbonate ion supersaturation decreases.55 Continued declines in pH levels, as a consequence of the rising uptake of carbon dioxide in the oceans, may ultimately imperil the very existence of coral reefs in many parts of the world. A recent study by Hoegh-Guldberg, et al., concluded that oceanic carbonate concentrations will drop below 200 mol kg−1 when atmospheric carbon dioxide concentrations reach 450–550 ppm, a scenario that may occur by the middle of this century.56 At that point, the rates of calcification by coral polyps will be exceeded by reef erosion, which in conjunction with the impacts of increasing temperatures,57 may “reduce coral reef ecosystems to crumbling frameworks with few calcareous corals.”58 By the end of
Fig. 14.2 Bicarbonate formation in the oceans
H+ + CO32– ↔ HCO 3–
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the century, Caldeira concludes that “there is no place left with the kind of chemistry where corals grow today.”59 The diminution of reefs could also result in half or more of coral-associated fauna becoming rare or extinct.60 Massive declines in coral reefs could have grave environmental and socio-economic implications. Coral reefs are among the most diverse ecosystems in the world. While covering only 0.17% of the ocean floor, coral provide habitat for one quarter of all marine species.61 In the Pacific region, reefs serve as habitat for fish and other marine species that provide 90% of the protein needs of inhabitants of Pacific Island Developing Countries62 “and represent almost the sole opportunity for substantial economic development for many small island nations.”63 A World Bank study estimated that 50% of the subsistence and artisanal fisheries will be lost in regions of high coral reef loss.64 Moreover, coastal peoples rely on the marine life found on corals for many medicinal needs, including venom from tropical cone snails that serve as a substitute for morphine, and coral skeletons that can replace bone grafts.65 Overall, it has been estimated that the food, tourism revenue, coastal protection and new medications that reefs provide are worth about $375 billion annually,66 with nearly 500 million people dependent on healthy coral reefs for their services.67 14.3.1.3 Potential Impacts on Other Calcifying Species While corals are the most prominent calcifying organisms in the world’s oceans, they account for only 10% of global calcium carbonate production.68 Seventy percent of global calcium carbonate precipitation is contributed by several groups of planktonic organisms, including coccolithophores, foraminifera, and pteropods,69 many of which are extremely important components of ocean ecosystems.70 Coccolithophores are one-celled marine phytoplankton that inhabit the upper layers of coastal waters and the open ocean.71 Coccolithophores are the primary calcite producers in the ocean,72 constructing elaborate calcite plates or liths.73 Recent studies indicate that rising pH levels associated with increased oceanic carbon dioxide uptake may imperil coccolithophore species in the future. One study concluded that a doubling of present-day concentrations of carbon dioxide could result in a 20–40% reduction in biogenic calcification of coccolithophores, resulting in malformed calcareous plates and layers of plates,74 while another concluded that coccolithophores exposed to carbon dioxide levels triple those of the present day could lose half their protective coatings.75 The particulate organic material of coccolithophores sinks and contributes substantially to carbon mineralization deep in the water column.76 A reduction in the transport of organic carbon to the deep ocean would diminish the flux of food to benthic organisms.77 Additionally, the decline of coccolithophores in an ecosystem can result in a shift to a diatom-dominated phytoplankton community, which can restructure an ecosystem at all trophic levels.78 Diminution of coccolithophores could also amplify global warming trends for several reasons. Chalky coccolithophore blooms can extend over hundreds of thousands of square kilometers,79 and when blooming, lighten the surface of the ocean and reflect substantial amounts of sunlight back towards space.80 Substantial reductions in their numbers might thus accelerate warming because more incoming solar radiation would
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be absorbed by the oceans.81 Moreover, coccolithophores produce substantial amounts of dimethylsulphide, which account for substantial portions of atmospheric sulphate particles around which cloud droplets grow. Reductions in cloud development might ultimately result in additional warming, as some clouds reflect incoming solar radiation back to space.82 Finally, calcium carbonate is very dense, and acts as ballast, which serves to accelerate the deposition of particulate carbon in the deep ocean. A reduction in calcium carbonate production thus could ultimately imperil a mechanism that helps remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, potentially intensifying the greenhouse effect.83 Aragonite-producing pteropods, sometimes called sea butterflies, are a group of 32 species of planktonic snails.84 While the species have a global distribution, population densities are highest in polar and subpolar regions, and they are the primary calcifiers in the Southern Ocean.85 Pteropods are particularly threatened by ocean acidification both because of the high solubility of aragonite and the fact that the calcite saturation state is lowest in near-polar regions.86 Under a business as usual scenario for growth of carbon dioxide emissions, the aragonite saturation horizon may rise to the surface of the oceans before 2100, rendering the skeletons of pteropods unstable throughout the water column of the Southern Ocean.87 Pteropods incapable of growing stable shells are not likely to survive in waters that become undersaturated with aragonite.88 Moreover, the weakening of the pteropods’ health would most likely allow competing species to assert dominance.89 Pteropods play an extremely important role in many ocean ecosystems. In the Ross Sea, the subpolar-polar pteropod Limacina helicina sometimes replaces krill as the dominant zooplankton species in the ecosystem.90 In many polar and subpolar regions, pteropods are an important food source for a wide range of species, including North Pacific salmon, mackerel, herring, cod, and large whales.91 Planktonic foraminifera are single-celled organisms related to amoeba, some of which form shells from the calcite form of calcium carbonate.92 Recent research in the Southern Ocean revealed that foraminifera have thinner shells with considerably more porosity than fossilized foraminifera that lived in the ocean thousands of years ago.93 A doubling in atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide from current levels is projected to reduce the calcification rates of foraminifera by an additional 20–40%.94 Changes in the distribution and abundance of this group could have significant impacts on the global carbon cycle.95 Echinoderms, a phylum that includes starfish, sea urchins and brittle stars, are especially threatened by ocean acidification because their calcite structures contain larger amounts of magnesium and thus dissolve far more readily than even aragonite under increased carbon dioxide conditions.96 Recent research, albeit limited, indicates that echinoderms can be seriously impacted by declines in pH of as little as 0.3 units.97 Diminution of echinoderms could have serious implications for many ocean ecosystems as some are keystone predators which are very important grazers.98 Other calcifying species that may be adversely affected by ocean acidification include mussels,99 oysters,100 copepods,101 and crabs.102 Finally, it should be emphasized that the historical record associated with previous incidents of ocean acidification and calcifying species may be a foreboding portent. The mass extinction of huge numbers of calcifying marine species 55 million years ago (the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum) may have been largely attributable
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to ocean acidification and associated carbonate undersaturation.103 Moreover, it took over 110,000 years for calcium carbonate levels to return to previous levels.104 Because the release of carbon was more gradual during this era, facilitating some buffering by deep-sea carbonate dissolution, it is likely that contemporary acidification will be more “rapid and intense.”105
14.3.2 Toxic Effects on Ocean Organisms While we know far less about the potential direct toxic effects of carbon dioxide or acidification on marine species than potential impacts on calcification processes in marine species,106 there is some evidence that such impacts will occur. For example, some fish species may be threatened by declining pH through a process called acidosis, which is a build up of carbonic acid in body fluids that can lead to death.107 Hypercapnia, or excessive carbon dioxide in the blood, may also threaten fish species in the future. For example, a recent study concluded that elevated levels of carbon dioxide can result in high levels of mortality for Japanese amberjack and bastard halibut.108 A recent study concluded that decreases in ocean pH by 0.5 units or more may severely disrupt the internal acid-base balance of sea urchins, which can ultimately result in their death.109 Cephalopods such as squid might be particularly affected by increases in oceanic carbon dioxide because they require very high amounts of oxygen in the blood to sustain their energy-demanding method of swimming. Lower pH can impair oxygen supplies in these species,110 reducing oxygen capacity by about 50% with a pH decrease of 0.25 units.111
14.4 Future Research Needs and Translating Research into Policy Many in the climate community now believe that ocean acidification may prove to be one of the most serious manifestations of burgeoning anthropogenic carbon dioxide emissions.112 Yet the current research agenda in this context is egregiously inadequate, marked by insufficient funding for conducting pertinent experiments, monitoring and modeling and the absence of a coherent framework for assessment.113 As Kurihara, et al., recently observed, “the investigation of the biological impacts of future ocean acidification is still in its infancy.”114 In the final section of this chapter, I will outline some of the critical components of a viable research program during the next decade and beyond. A core priority must be to expand substantially the scope of marine species that are assessed for potential acidification impacts. For example, while many calcifying plankton species are at the base of marine ecosystems,115 to date only 2% of these species have been studied in terms of potential ocean acidification impacts.116 The highest priority should be accorded to assessing potential impacts on shelled pteropods and deep-sea scleractinian corals, two aragonite-secreting species that may be the first to experience carbonate undersaturation within their current geographic rates.117 A broader assessment will help to facilitate the timely development of precautionary measures and potential adaptation responses, as well as to establish priorities necessitated by resource constraints.
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One severe limitation of acidification research to date is that the vast majority of studies have been conducted in the laboratory. This is problematic for several reasons: 1) the experiments are usually not run long enough to assess whether the species threatened by acidification can adapt to their changing environment, either through physiological adjustments or migration;118 2) laboratory studies usually focus on one species rather than an assemblage, and thus cannot assess the possibility of replacement of acid-sensitive by more acid-tolerant or acid-insensitive species that could help maintain ecosystem integrity; and 3) the absence of an ecosystem makes it impossible to assess trophic effects of acidification, a critical proposition given the key role of many calcifying species in the marine ecosystem.119 While an expensive proposition, assessments should focus on large-scale marine field experiments that mirror land-based Free Air Carbon Dioxide Enhancement (FACE) experiments. FACE experiments consist of towers on a small plot of land that send measured amounts of carbon dioxide into the air to determine the potential impacts of rising levels of carbon dioxide on terrestrial species.120 Engineers have begun to develop robotic submersibles to facilitate the study of deep-sea organisms;121 but it is far from clear that adequate funding will be forthcoming to develop a robust field program. Field experiments must also seek to assess the synergistic impacts that rising open water temperatures associated with climate change and carbon dioxide accumulation might exert on marine species.122 Other potential synergistic factors, such as pollution and harvesting of species should also be incorporated into such studies.123 Finally, acidification experiments must include assessments of potential impact of acidification on the early development of marine calcifying organisms since: 1) early life stages are usually more sensitive to environmental impacts; and 2) most benthic organisms possess planktonic larval stages and fluctuations in these stages exert a profound impact on population size.124 For example, a recent study concluded that reproduction rates and larval development of copepods were sensitive to increased carbon dioxide concentration in seawater, while adult female survival was not affected at this concentration.125 Should additional research confirm the extremely serious ramifications that ocean acidification may pose for marine ecosystems, there may be far-ranging implications for policymaking under the two primary mechanisms at the international level to control carbon dioxide emissions: the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC)126 and the Kyoto Protocol127 established under the UNFCCC.128 The Parties to both instruments may fulfill their obligations by reducing emissions among a “basket” of “greenhouse gases,” i.e., atmospheric gases that absorb and reemit infrared radiation.129 Carbon dioxide is one of these gases, but the basket also includes methane, nitrous oxide, hydrofluorocarbons, perflourocarbons and sulphur hexafluoride,130 all of which have much higher “global warming potential” than carbon dioxide, i.e., absorption of radiation per molecule.131 The basket approach reflects the overarching objective of both treaty instruments to reduce emissions of anthropogenically-generated gases that can trap infrared radiation in the stratosphere, and thus contribute to climate change. Additionally, it affords the Parties the flexibility to focus their efforts on reducing emissions of those greenhouse gases that pose the least cost for their respective economies.132
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However, if carbon dioxide poses a unique risk to marine ecosystems by leading to acidification, then the Parties to the UNFCCC and the Kyoto Protocol might consider amending their respective instruments to focus more attention on reducing emissions of this gas. On the other hand, should the Parties conclude that their mandate is, and should be, limited to combating climate change, then other international fora might be more germane for addressing this issue. For example, under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea133 Parties are required “to prevent, reduce and control pollution of the marine environment from any source,”134 including “the release of toxic, harmful or noxious substances, especially those that are persistent135 . . . from land-based sources, [or] from or through the atmosphere . . .”136 Anthropogenic carbon dioxide emissions appear to clearly fall under the rubric of this mandate since they are a “harmful” substance when introduced into the marine environment, and are released “from or through the atmosphere.”137
14.5 Conclusion As the Royal Society of the United Kingdom concluded in its study of ocean acidification, “without significant action to reduce CO2 emissions into the atmosphere, this may mean that there will be no place in the future oceans for many of the species and ecosystems that we know today.”138 While warming associated with rising levels of carbon dioxide certainly warrants the steadfast commitment of the world’s major emitters to reverse this trend, the “other CO2 problem” may provide an equal or even more compelling rationale. One can only hope that the world’s policymakers will mobilize more quickly to address this issue than was the case with climate change.
Notes 1. Simon Wright & Andrew Davidson, Ocean Acidification: A Newly Recognised Threat, 10 Aus tralian Antarctic Magazine 27 (2007), , site visited on Jan. 2, 2008. 2. Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity, Executive Secretary Welcomes the Announcement of the Nobel Peace Prize to the IPCC and Al Gore (2007), , site visited on October 27, 2007. 3. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Climate Change 2007: Synthesis Report, Summary for Policymakers, Fourth Assessment Report 13 (2007), , site visited on Dec. 17, 2007. See also Craig D. Thomas, et al., Extinction Risk from Climate Change, 427 Nature 145, 146 & 147 (2004). 4. The latest assessment by the IPCC projects that doubling atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide from pre-industrial levels is likely to result in temperature increases of 2◦ –4.5◦ C, with a best estimate of 3◦ C. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Climate Change 2007: The Physical Science Basis (2007), at 12, , site visited on Dec. 18, 2007. However, based on a “shocking” increase in energy demand over the past few years, the International Energy Agency recently projected that atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide could rise to levels that would produce a 6 ◦ C increase in global temperatures by 2030. IEA Predicts ‘Shocking’ Rise in Global Energy Demand, Environmental Finance Online
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8. 9. 10. 11.
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13. 14. 15.
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17. 18. 19. 20.
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W.C.G. Burns News, Nov. 8, 2007, , site visited on Dec. 16, 2007. William C.G. Burns, Potential Causes of Action for Climate Change Impacts under the United Nations Fish Stocks Agreement, 7(2) Sus tainable Development L. & Pol’y 34, 35 (2007); Martin J. Attrill & Michael Power, Climatic Influence on a Marine Fish Assemblage, 417 Nature 275, 278 (2002). Colin D. Macleod, et al., Linking Sandeel Consumption and the Likelihood of Starvation in Harbour Porpoises in the Scottish North Sea: Could Climate Change Mean More Starving Porpoises?, 3(2) Bio. Letters 185–88 (2007); William C.G. Burns, From the Harpoon to the Heat: Climate Change and the International Whaling Commission in the 21st Century, 13(4) Geo. Int’l L. Rev. 335, 348 (2001). Timothy R. McClanahan, et al., Effects of Climate and Seawater Temperature Variation on Coral Bleaching and Mortality, 88(4) Eco. Monographs 503–525 (2007); Simon D. Donner, et al., Global Assessment of Coral Bleaching and Required Rates of Adaptation under Climate Change, 11 Global Change Bio. 2251–2265 (2005). Graeme C. Hays, Anthony J. Richardson & Carol Robinson, Climate Change and Marine Plankton, 20(6) TRENDS in Ecology & Evolution 337–344 (2005). Caspar Henderson, Paradise Lost, New Sci., Aug. 5, 2006, at 29. Encyclopedia of the Atmospheric Environment, Greenhouse Gases, , site visited on Dec. 18, 2007. Haroon S. Kheshgi, Steven J. Smith & James A. Edmonds, Emissions and Atmospheric CO2 Stabilization, 10 Mitigation & Adaptation Strategies for Global Change 213, 214 (2005). John R. Justus & Susan R. Fletcher, Global Climate Change, CRS Issue Brief for Congress, Aug. 13, 2001, at 3, , site visited on Apr. 25, 2004. Fred Pearce, World Lays Odds On Global Catastrophe, New Sci., Apr. 8, 1995, at 4. UNEP, Vital Climate Change Graphics 10 (2005). Consumption of crude oil and coal account for almost 77% of fossil fuel carbon dioxide emissions. Climate Change Science Program & the Subcommittee on Global Change Research, Our Changing Planet: The U.S. Climate Change Science Program for Fiscal 2007 (2007), at 117. Energy-related carbon dioxide emissions have risen 130-fold since 1850. Pew Center on Global Climate Change, Climate Change 101: Understanding and Responding to Global Climate Change 34 (2006), , site visited on Apr. 24, 2007. “The additional release in recent years from deforestation and land-use change, mainly in tropical regions, has been estimated variously at between 0.7 GtC/year and 3.0 GtC/year in CO2 . . . a mid-range value of 1.5 GtC/year is often cited.” Rosina Bierbaum, et al., Confronting Climate Change: Avoiding the Unmanageable and Managing the Unavoidable, Scientific Expert Group Report on Climate Change and Sustainable Development (2006), at 12–13, , site visited on Dec. 16, 2007. Climate Change Science Program & Subcommittee on Global Change Research, Our Changing Planet: The U.S. Climate Change Science Program for Fiscal Year 2007 (2006), at 117. Eric Steig, The Lag between Temperature and CO2 , RealClimate, Apr. 27, 2007, , site visited on Dec. 7, 2007. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Climate Change 2007: The Physical Science Basis (2007), at 4, , site visited on Dec. 7, 2007. CNA Corporation, National Security and the Threat of Climate Change 56 (2007), , site visited June 8, 2007. NASA Earth Observatory, The Carbon Cycle, , site visited on Dec. 19, 2007. “When atmospheric CO2 partial pressures rise, the quantities of CO2 dissolved in water increase in accordance with Henry’s law, leading to levels similar to those in air due to the great solubility of the gas in the water . . .” Hans O. P¨ortner, Martina Langenbuch & Anke Reipschl¨ager,
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Biological Impact of Elevated Ocean CO2 Concentrations: Lessons from Animal Physiology and Earth History, 60 J. Oceanography 705, 707 (2004). Haruko Kurihara, Shinji Shimode & Yoshihisa Shirayama, Sub-Lethal Effects of Elevated Concentration of CO2 on Planktonic Copepods and Sea Urchins, 60 J. Oceanography 743, 743 (2004); Richard A. Feely, et al., Impact of Anthropogenic CO2 on the CaCO3 System in the Oceans, 305 Sci. 362, 362 (2004). The terrestrial biosphere absorbs approximately 20% of carbon dioxide emissions. Id. Richard A. Feely, Christopher L. Sabine & Victoria J. Fabry, Carbon Dioxide and Our Ocean Legacy, NOAA, Pacific Marine Environmental Laboratory (2006), at 1, , site visited on Dec. 18, 2007. The oceans currently store approximately 50 times more carbon dioxide than the atmosphere and 20 times more than the terrestrial biosphere and soils. R. Schubert, et al., The Future Oceans – Warming Up, Rising High, Turning Sour, German Advisory Council on Global Change (2006), , site visited on Dec. 25, 2007, at 4. Usha Lee McFarling, A Chemical Imbalance, L.A. Times , Aug. 3, 2006, , site visited on Dec. 19, 2007. J.A. Kleypas, et al., Impacts of Ocean Acidification on Coral Reefs and Other Marine Calcifiers, Report of a Workshop Sponsored by the NSF/NOAA/UGSG (2006), at 3. R. Schubert, et al., supra note 24, at 66. Haruko Kurihara, Shoji Kato & Atsushi Ishimatsu, Effects of Increased Seawater pCO2 on Early Development of the Oyster Crassostrea Gigas, 1 Aquatic Bio. 91, 91 (2007). Scott C. Doney, The Dangers of Ocean Acidification, Sci. Am., Mar. 2006, at 60. The Royal Society, Ocean Acidification Due to Increasing Atmospheric Carbon Dioxide, Policy Doc. 12/05 (2005), at 4, , site visited on Dec. 25, 2007. Ulf Riebesell, Effects of CO2 Enrichment on Marine Phytoplankton, 60 J. Oceanography 719, 719–20 (2004). Henderson, supra note 9, at 30. Schubert, et al., supra note 27, at 66. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 1. C. Turley, et al., Reviewing the Impact of Increased Atmospheric CO2 on Oceanic pH and the Marine Ecosystems, Avoiding Dangerous Climate Change 67 (Hans Joachim Schellnhuber ed., 2006). The term “ocean acidification” was coined in 2003 by climate scientists Ken Caldeira and Michael Wickett. Elizabeth Kolbert, The Darkening Sea, The New Yorker, Nov. 20, 2006, at 67, , site visited on Dec. 25, 2007. However, it should be emphasized that this term is a bit of a misnomer since seawater is naturally alkaline, and a neutral pH is 7. Thus, it is highly unlikely that surface ocean seawater will ever actually become acidic. Y. Shirayama & H. Thornton, Effect of Increased Atmospheric CO2 on Shallow Water Marine Benthos, 110 J. Geophys ical Res . 1, 1 (2005). James Hansen et al., Climate Change and Trace Gases, Phil. Trans . R. Soc. A, 1925, 1937 (2007). Fossil fuel and cement emissions of carbon dioxide increased at a rate of 3.3% annually from 2000–2006, a dramatic acceleration from the rate of 1.3% annually from 1990–1999. Josep G. Canadell, et al., Contributions to Accelerating Atmospheric CO2 Growth from Economic Activity, Carbon Intensity, and Efficiency of Natural Sinks, PNAS Early Edition, 10.1073 (2007), at 5. The increasing growth rate of carbon dioxide emissions is attributable to increased economic growth, an increase in carbon dioxide emissions required to produce each additional unit of economic activity, and decreasing efficiency of carbon sinks on land and the oceans. Id. at 3. Michael R. Raupach, et al., Global and Regional Drivers of Accelerating CO2 Emissions, 104(24) Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci 10288, 10289 (2007). IPCC, Nebojsa Nakicenovic, et al., Special Report on Emissions Scenarios (2000), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007.
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41. James E. Hansen, Dangerous Human-Made Interference with Climate, Testimony to the Select Committee on Energy Independence and Global Warming, U.S. House of Representatives, Apr. 26, 2007, , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007, at 4. 42. David Talbot, The Dirty Secret, Tech. Rev. (July/Aug. 2006), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007; Feely, supra note 24, at 362; Stephen F. Lincoln, Fossil Fuels in the 21st Century, 34(8) Ambio 621, 621 (2005). 43. G.A. Meehl, et al., Global Climate Projections, Climate Change 2007: The Physical Science Basis. Contribution of Working Group I to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change 750 (2007), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007; Bj¨orn Rost & Ulf Riebesell, Coccolithophores and the Biological Pump: Responses to Environmental Changes, in Coccolithophores: From Molecular Processes to Global Impacts 116 (Hans R. Thierstein & Jeremy R. Young eds., 2004), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007; Henry Elderfield, Carbonate Mysteries, 296 Sci. 1618, 1619 (2002). 44. Ben I. McNeil & Richard J. Matear, Climate Change Feedbacks on Future Oceanic Acidification, 59(B) Tellus 191, 191 (2007). See also J.C. Blackford & F.J. Gilbert, pH Variability and CO2 Induced Acidification in the North Sea, 64 J. Marine Sys tems 229, 229 (2007). 45. The Acid Ocean – The Other Problem with CO2 Emission, RealClimate, July 2, 2005, , site visited on Dec. 25, 2007. 46. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 39. 47. Ultimately, carbon dioxide and carbonate levels in the ocean are very nearly inversely related to each other. The Acid Ocean – The Other Problem with CO2 Emission, supra note 45. 48. R. Schubert, et al., supra note 27, at 66; O. Hoegh-Guldberg, et al., Coral Reefs Under Rapid Climate Change and Ocean Acidification, 318 Sci. 1737, 1737 (2007). 49. Rost & Riebesell, supra note 43, at 116. 50. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 20. 51. Henderson, supra note 9, at 30. 52. Long Cao, Ken Caldeira & Atul K. Jain, Effects of Carbon Dioxide and Climate Change on Ocean Acidification and Carbonate Mineral Saturation, 34 Geophys ical Res . Letters L05607 (2007), at 1. “[S]tudies have consistently found a significant linear or curvilinear response between calcification and CO2− 3 .” Chris Langdon, Review of Experimental Evidence for Effects of CO2 on Calcification of Reef Builders, Proc. 9th Int’l Coral Reef Sympos ium 1991, 1093 (2000). 53. Hayley Miles, et al., Effects of Anthropogenic Seawater Acidification on Acid-Base Balance in the Sea Urchin Psammechinus Miliaris, 54 Marine Pollution Bulletin 89, 90 (2007). 54. Joan A. Kleypas, et al., Geochemical Consequences of Increased Atmospheric Carbon Dioxide on Coral Reefs, 284 Sci. 118, 119 (1999). Reef-building (or hermatypic) corals are of the order Scleractinia, in the class Anthozoa, of the phylum Cnidaria. Approximately 6,000 species of Anthozoans exist, all of them marine. J.A. Pechenik, Biology of the Invertebrates 91–2 (1991). 55. Testimony of Richard A. Feely, Hearing on the Effects of Climate Change and Ocean Acidification on Living Marine Resources, Senate Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation, Subcommittee on Oceans, Atmosphere, Fisheries and Coast Guard, May 10, 2007, at 2, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008; The Acid Ocean – The Other Problem with CO2 Emission, supra note 45. 56. See supra note 41 and accompanying text. 57. Coral reefs have extremely narrow temperature tolerances of between 25–29◦ C, with many currently living near their threshold of thermal tolerance in tropical and sub-tropical waters. William C.G. Burns, The Possible Impacts of Climate Change on Pacific Island State Ecosystems, Occasional Paper of the Pacific Institute for Studies in Development, Mar. 2000, at 4. Projected increases in sea temperatures in the same regions over the next century are likely to result in a “catastrophic decline” in coral cover. Brian C. O’Neill & Michael Oppenheimer,
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59. 60. 61. 62.
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Climate Change Impacts are Sensitive to the Concentration Stabilization Path, 101(47) Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci. 16411, 16414 (2004). Hoegh-Guldberg, supra note 48, at 1740–41. See also Langdon, supra note 52, at 1096 (drop in carbonate levels under scenario of atmospheric carbon dioxide levels doubling over preindustrial levels results in a 49% drop in calcification for coral organisms); James C. Orr, et al., Anthropogenic Ocean Acidification Over the Twenty-First Century and its Impact on Calcifying Organisms, 437 Nature 681, 682 (2005) (aragonite undersaturation in some polar and subpolar surface waters under scenario of atmospheric carbon dioxide levels doubling over pre-industrial levels). Henderson, supra note 9, at 31. Hoegh-Guldberg, supra note 48, at 1741. Peter K. Weber, Saving the Coral Reefs, 27(4) The Futuris t 43, 44 (1993). At least three million fish species live on or near coral reefs. Kolbert, supra note 36, at 66. Ismail Serageldin, Coral Reef Conservation: Science, Economics, and Law, in Coral Reefs : Challenges & Opportunities for Sus tainable Management 5 (Marea E. Hatziolos, Anthony J. Hooten & Martin Fodor eds., 1998). John E. Hay, et al., Climate Variability and Change and Sea-Level Rise in the Pacific Island Region 53, South Pacific Regional Environment Programme (2003), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007. O. Hoegh-Guldberg, et al., Pacific in Peril, Greenpeace, Oct. 2000, at 54. Dafna Hopenstand, Global Warming and its Impact on Near-Shore Communities: Protection Regimes for Fish and Coastal People Affected by Coral Reef Damage, 8 Wis . Envtl. L.J. 85, 91 (2002). Reef Relief, All About the Coral Reef, , site visited on Dec. 31, 2007. The Ocean Acidification Network, How Will Ecosystems Be Affected?, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. Ingrid Zondervan, et al., Decreasing Marine Biogenic Calcification: A Negative Feedback on Rising Atmospheric pCO2 , 15(2) Global Biogeochemical Cycles 507, 507 (2001). Id. at 507–08. “Tens of thousands of species—representing the first critical link or two on the food chain— use calcium carbonate to construct shells.” Dan Shapley, Acidic Oceans Affecting Food Fish, The Daily Green, May 5, 2007, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. NASA Earth Observatory, What is a Coccolithophore?, , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007; Jean-Pierre Gattuso & Robert W. Buddemeier, Calcification and CO2 , 407 Nature 311, 311 (2000). NASA Earth Observatory, supra note 71. Henderson, supra note 9, at 32. Riebesell, supra note 31, at 722. See also R. Schubert, et al., supra note 24, at 70; Alfred Wegener-Institut f¨ur Polar and Meeresforschung, Calcification of Coccolithophores, , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007. Jacqueline Ruttimann, Sick Seas, 442 Nature 978, 978 (2006). Gill Malin & Michael Steinke, Dimethyl Sulfide Production: What is the Contribution of Coccolithophores?, in Thierstein & Young, supra note 43, at 149. European Science Foundation, EuroCLIMATE Workshop on Atmospheric CO2 , and Ecological Changes in Planktonic Organisms, at 4, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 29. Id. at 28; Luc Beaufort, et al., Effects of Acidification and Primary Production on Coccolith Weight: Implications for Carbonate Transfer from the Surface to the Deep Ocean, 8(8) Geochemis try Geophys ics Geos ys tems 1, 2 (2007), , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007.
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80. NASA Earth Observatory, What Do Coccolithophores Do in the Environment?, , site visited on Dec. 30, 2007. 81. Ruttimann, supra note 75, at 980. 82. Id. See also P.S. Liss, G. Malin & S.M. Turner, Production of DMS by Marine Phytoplankton, in Dimethylsulphide: Oceans, Atmosphere & Climate, European Commission, Proceedings of the International Symposium held in Belgirate, Italy, 13–15 Oct. 1992, at 10, , site visited on Dec. 31, 2007; National Research Council, Understanding Climate Change Impacts 29 (2003), , site visited on Dec. 31, 2007. 83. Wright & Davidson, supra note 1, at 26. 84. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 29. 85. Orr, et al., supra note 58, at 685. 86. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 2. 87. Id. See also Henderson, supra note 9, at 31 (researchers in shipboard experiments found that shells of pteropods begin dissolving under atmospheric carbon dioxide levels likely in 2050). 88. Orr, et al., supra note 58, at 685. 89. Feely, supra note 24, at 3. 90. Orr, et al., supra note 58, at 685. 91. Feely, supra note 24, at 3. See also Shapley, supra note 70. 92. Doney, supra note 29, at 62; GNS Science, Foraminifera, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. 93. Graham Phillips, Ocean Time Bomb, Sydney Morning Herald, Sept. 12, 2007, , site visited Jan. 1, 2008. 94. Riebesell, supra note 31, at 722. 95. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 29. 96. R. Schubert, et al., supra note 24, at 69–70. The skeletons of species such as sea urchins and mollusks consist of magnesium-bearing calcite that is 30 times more soluble than calcite without magnesium. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 21. 97. H. Kurihara & Y. Shirayama, Effects of Increased Atmospheric CO2 on Sea Urchin Early Development, 274 Marine Eco. Progres s Series 161, 167 (2004). 98. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 21. 99. Ocean Acidification Predicted to Harm Shellfish, Aquaculture, Science Daily, Mar. 19, 2007, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008; Hans O. P¨ortner & Martina Langenbuch, Synergistic Effects of Temperature Extremes, Hypoxia, and Increases in CO2 on Marine Animals: From Earth History to Global Change, 110 J. Geophys ical Res . 1, 14 (2005). 100. Kurihara, et al., supra note 28, at 95–97. 101. Kurihara, et al., supra note 23, at 721–727. 102. Testimony of Gordon H. Kruse, Hearing on the Effects of Climate Change and Ocean Acidification on Living Marine Resources, Senate Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation, Subcommittee on Oceans, Atmosphere, Fisheries and Coast Guard, May 10, 2007, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. 103. Feely, supra note 55, at 3; James C. Zachos, et al., Rapid Acidification of the Ocean During the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum, 308 Sci. 1611, 1613 (2005). 30–40% of foraminifera species were rendered extinct during this period. Bruce Lieberman, Changing Ocean Chemistry Threatens to Harm Marine Life, San Diego Union Tribune, Sept. 14, 2006, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. 104. Zachos, supra note 103, at 1613. 105. European Science Foundation, supra note 77, at 5.
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106. Testimony of David O. Conover, Effects of Climate Change on Fisheries, Hearing on the Effects of Climate Change and Ocean Acidification on Living Marine Resources, Senate Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation, Subcommittee on Oceans, Atmosphere, Fisheries and Coast Guard, May 10, 2007, at 2, , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. 107. Feely, supra note 24, at 3. 108. Atsushi Ishimatsu, et al., Effects of CO2 on Marine Fish: Larvae and Adults, 60 J. Oceanography 731, 737 (2004). 109. Miles, supra note 53, at 94. 110. The Ocean Acidification Network, supra note 67. 111. Turley, et al., supra note 35, at 68. See also P¨ortner, et al., supra note 22, at 712. 112. Feely, supra note 55, at 4. Thomas Lovejoy, the Executive Director of the H. John Heinz Center for Science, Economics and the Environment recently concluded that ocean acidification is “shaking the biological underpinnings of civilization” and is “the most profound environmental change I’ve encountered in my professional career.” Shapley, supra note 70. 113. Testimony of James D. Watkins, Hearing on the Effects of Climate Change and Ocean Acidification on Living Marine Resources, Senate Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation, Subcommittee on Oceans, Atmosphere, Fisheries and Coast Guard, May 10, 2007 , site visited on Jan. 1, 2008. 114. Kurihara, et al., supra note 28, at 92. 115. See supra note 70 and accompanying text. 116. Ruttimann, supra note 81, at 980. 117. Kleypas, supra note 26, at 36. 118. For example, recent research indicates that at least one coccolithophore species, Calcidiscus leptoporus, has adapted to current carbon dioxide levels. Kleypas, et al., supra note 26, at 31. Conversely, long-term exposure to carbon dioxide may reveal more adverse impacts on species than laboratory experiments that are frequently conducted over periods of a few hours to a few weeks. Id. 119. European Science Foundation, supra note 77, at 4. 120. Nerissa Hannink, Climate Change has new FACE, 1(10) The Univers ity of Melbourne Voice, , site visited on Jan. 2, 2008; New Agriculturalist on-line, About FACE on CO2 , ,site visited on Jan. 2, 2008. 121. Ruttimann, supra note 81, at 980. 122. P¨ortner, et al., supra note 22, at 715. 123. For example as Roy and Pandolfi observe, “the possible synergism between local habitat degradation and predicted global change may push marine ecosystems into uncharted territory where even small perturbations could trigger large, deleterious effects.” Kaustuv Roy & John M. Pandolfi, Responses of Marine Species and Ecosystems to Past Climate Change, in Climate Change & Biodiversity 170 (Thomas E. Lovejoy & Lee Hannah eds., 2005). See also Zelinda M.A.N. Le˜ao & Ruy K.P. Kikuchi, A Relic Coral Reef Threatened by Global Changes and Human Activities, Eastern Brazil, 51 Mar. Pollution Bull. 599–611 (2005). 124. Kurihara, et al., supra note 28, at 92. 125. Haruko Kurihara, Shinji Shimode & Yoshihisa Shirayama, Effects of Raising CO2 Concentration on the Egg Production Rate and Early Development of Two Marine Copepods (Acartia Steueri and Acartia Erythraea), 49 Marine Pollution Bulletin 721, 724 (2004). See also Turley, et al., supra note 35, at 68 (“Juvenile forms of shellfish may be less tolerant to changes in pH than adults”). 126. United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, May 9, 1992, 31 I.L.M. 849 (hereinafter UNFCCC). 127. Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Dec. 10, 1997, FCCC/CP/1997/L.7/Add. 1, 37 I.L.M. 22. 128. Article 17 of the UNFCCC, supra note 126, permits its Parties to adopt protocols to the Convention.
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129. UNFCCC, supra note 126, at art. 1(5); Kyoto Protocol, supra note 127, at Annex A. 130. Id. 131. Energy Information Agency, U.S. Department of Energy, Comparison of Global Warming Potentials from the Second and Third Assessment Reports of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), , site visited on Jan. 2, 2008. For example, the global warming potential of methane is 21 times that of carbon dioxide, while sulfur hexaflouoride has a global warming potential of a whopping 23,900 times that of carbon dioxide. Id. 132. James E. Hansen & Makiko Sato, Trends of Measured Climate Forcing Agents, 98(26) Proc. Nat’l Academy Sci. 14776, 14782 (2001). 133. U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea, 10 Dec. 1982, U.N. Doc. A/Conf. 62/121, 21 I.L.M. 1261 [hereinafter UNCLOS]. 134. Id. at art. 191(1). 135. Id. at art. 191(3). 136. Id. at art. 194(3)(a). 137. William C.G. Burns, Potential Causes of Action for Climate Change Damages in International Fora: The Law of the Sea Convention, 2(1) J. Sus tainable Development L. & Pol’y 27, 43–44 (2006). 138. The Royal Society, supra note 30, at 23.
Chapter 15
Advancing Conservation in a Globalized World Jonathan M. Hoekstra
Abstract In an increasingly globalized world, the impacts of industrial agriculture, forestry, fisheries, and natural resource extraction have become faraway notions that are out of sight, out of mind for too many consumers. To stimulate awareness and fresh thinking about nature conservation, this chapter begins by examining people’s expansive ecological footprint – cumulatively through population density, land use and infrastructure, and individually through the products people purchase. A global analysis juxtaposing maps of habitat loss and habitat protection reveals a “biome crisis” in the world’s temperate grasslands and Mediterranean habitats, and in 305 “crisis ecoregions” where the extent of habitat loss has outpaced habitat protection by at least a factor of two. This disparity threatens species and puts the sustainability of entire ecosystems in peril. Rising to this and other challenges to conservation in a globalized world depends on harnessing information technologies like Google Earth to raise awareness of problems and solutions around the world. It also depends on valuing nature for the essential benefits it provides to people – benefits such as clean water for cities and climate-moderating carbon sequestration. Establishing these values promises to make conservation a more integrated part of both local and global economies.
15.1 Introduction We live in an increasingly globalized world. Corner markets sell fresh fruit from thousands of miles away. Retail stores sell clothing and electronics manufactured halfway around the world. Cell phones and the internet enable people to talk to almost anyone, anytime, anywhere around the world. This is all possible because of globalization. And it seems to be accelerating as government policies promoting free trade, multilateral institutions like the World Trade Organization, and technology allow more goods and services to be exchanged more rapidly over longer distances. People are connected to one another, and economies are integrated as never before. At the same time, people seem to be more disconnected from their natural environment. For the first time in human history, more people live in cities than in rural areas (United Nations 2006). With so many goods and services transported from other places, the impacts of industrial agriculture, forestry, fisheries, and natural resource extraction have become faraway notions that are out of sight, out of mind. The impacts are tangible only where urban development encroaches on natural habitats. Even then, R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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more and more people seem uninterested. A recent study of downward trends in visits to U.S. National Parks found that people are instead watching movies, playing video games, and surfing the internet (Pergams and Zaradic 2005). Apparently, Pergams and Zaradic note, “biophilia,” or appreciation for the aesthetic and utilitarian value of nature, is being replaced by “videophilia.” The rise of globalization and the decline in people’s perceived connections to nature come at a pivotal time for conservation. In many ways, they compound the challenge of saving species and protecting natural habitats. At the same time, though, they create new opportunities to reconnect people with the natural world, and to mobilize the creative and collective efforts that are needed to protect it. The specter of global climate change has reminded the world that the fate of natural ecosystems and our own well-being are tied together, and that conservation of nature can play an important role in counteracting that threat. For example, the most recent reports of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimated that nearly 20% of global greenhouse gas emissions come from deforestation (IPCC 2007). This suggests that conservation of intact forests and improved management of secondary forests could make a significant contribution toward counteracting climate change. In this chapter, I aim to change your perceptions about what it means to “think globally, act locally,” and to suggest ways that we can advance conservation in a globalized world. I begin by examining how our individual ecological footprints have extended far beyond our geographic backyards. I then illustrate “crisis ecoregions” as a case study of how global perspectives can reveal fresh insights about local conservation needs. I conclude with some ideas about information technology and ecosystem services that promise to globalize conservation.
15.2 Ecological Footprints Far and Wide “Think globally, act locally.” This familiar adage is a favorite in the conservation community. It helps us feel part of something larger by making our respective, small contributions. Thanks to globalization, though, we’re playing a more global and less local role than we might appreciate. Our “local” actions have impacts that extend to the far corners of the world through the goods we buy and consume. As a result, “acting locally” requires far more than simply taking care of our immediate backyards. We share a responsibility for addressing the very real impacts that follow from our actions, wherever they occur. That’s where “thinking globally” takes on more substantive meaning. It is no longer just a feel-good notion about our shared concern for fur seals, rainforests, or other people and places in faraway lands. It now challenges us to understand the full scope and character of our impact on the world, and to seek ways to make a positive difference. The growth of the human population and the even larger escalation in our consumption of natural resources are having planetary impacts. More than 22% of the world’s land area has been converted from natural habitat to agriculture and settlements (Hoekstra et al. 2005). Barely 20% of original forests remain intact (Bryant et al. 1997). Ocean fish stocks are being harvested at such a rate that they could be depleted within 40 years (Worm et al. 2006). In all, humans consume nearly 40% of the
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world’s primary productivity (Vitousek et al. 1986). On top of that, we are devouring fossil fuels which are now contributing to global climate change (IPCC 2007). The globalization of our impacts can be visualized in terms of the human footprint (Fig. 15.1). By combining maps and data about human populations, settlements, agriculture, roads, and other infrastructure, Eric Sanderson and colleagues from the Wildlife Conservation Society and Columbia University were able to estimate the human footprint at any spot around the world (Sanderson et al. 2002). While not a direct measure of impacts, the human footprint analysis is a good predictor of where people and our activities are changing the planet. Several striking observations are immediately apparent. The human footprint is truly global, extending to nearly every corner of the world. It is most intense where human populations are greatest and where agricultural and industrial development is most extensive – places such as Europe, China, India, and the Midwestern United States. Even in seemingly remote places like Alaska or Siberia, road networks linking small settlements and developments associated with mining and other natural resource industries extend our indelible footprint. Still, there are many places that remain untrammeled. These have been identified by the Wildlife Conservation Society as the “last of the wild” areas where the human footprint is yet to reach (Sanderson et al. 2002). They include some of the largest wildernesses on the planet – places like the boreal forests of Canada, the Sahara Desert in Africa, and the rainforests of the Amazon. The human footprint represents the cumulative impact of all people. But what parts of that footprint are you or I individually responsible for? What sort of trail have our ecological footsteps left around the world? It is difficult to ascertain precisely, but you can begin to get an idea of your personal ecological footprint by examining where the food you eat and the various goods and services you buy come from. During the summer, many of the fresh fruits and vegetables I eat are grown in Washington where I live. But during the winter, fresh food is shipped in from farms in California, Mexico and
Fig. 15.1 The human footprint Higher score and darker shading indicate a greater human footprint due to the cumulative pressures of human population density, settlements, agriculture, roads, and other infrastructure. Based on data compiled by Sanderson et al. (2002). Map prepared by Tim Boucher
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beyond. My morning coffee might have been grown in Central America, Uganda, or Kenya. When I enjoy a bottle of wine with dinner, it can come from France, Argentina, or South Africa as easily as from California. The guilty pleasure of chocolate depends on cocoa grown in places like Cote d’Ivorie, Ghana and Indonesia. Many of my clothes were sewed in Southeast Asia and Central America. The computer and cell phone I use every day were made in China, as are so many other manufactured goods. In all, an unscientific survey of my cupboards and closet found products that originated in more than 40 different countries spanning every continent except Antarctica. Our individual ecological footsteps undoubtedly extend even further when one considers where the raw materials used to make various products originated. Much of the coal, oil and natural gas that power most industries and transportation networks come from the United States, Canada, China, the Middle East and Russia. But where was the wheat in your bread or cotton in your shirt grown? Where were the mineral ores mined and turned into wires and other parts for our electronic gadgets? Where was the fiber for this book harvested? Answering these questions requires digging deep into the industrial pathways of different products. Pietra Rivoli did just this in her book “The Travels of a T-shirt in the global economy” when she investigated where a $6 T-shirt from a Florida drugstore came from (Rivoli 2005). It turns out that the industrial life-cycle of a mundane T-shirt is more complex and globalized than one might expect. Her particular shirt was made in China from cotton grown in Texas before being sold by a Miami company. Other T-shirts might be sewn in Bangladesh or El Salvador using cotton grown in India or Pakistan. T-shirts even have a second life after they are discarded in the United States – many are donated to impoverished people in East Africa or recycled into rags. All of this is meant to underscore how expansive our individual ecological footprints have become in this globalized world. As a result of our consumerism, we each contribute to the overall human footprint, and we do so both close and far from home. Growing the food we eat, and manufacturing and shipping the goods we buy have real impacts in terms of habitat loss, environmental pollution and degradation of natural ecosystems that people depend on. In our globalized world we now share in the responsibility, regardless of whether these impacts occur close to home or in faraway places, for minimizing and mitigating these impacts. As we become more aware of our personal globalization, “think globally, act locally” takes on new meaning as a challenge to support and contribute to local conservation actions around the world.
15.3 Crisis Ecoregions Thinking globally can also reveal new insights into where local conservation action is most needed. A recent analysis designed to identify “crisis ecoregions” around the world illustrates how global thinking can stimulate fresh scientific ideas and inform conservation priorities. In 2003, The Nature Conservancy was challenged to think globally about its conservation work. The Conservancy is an organization proudly rooted in local action. Since buying their first preserve more than 50 years ago, The Nature Conservancy has
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remained committed to working closely with landowners and communities to protect ecologically important places. In the early 1990s, the Conservancy began to appreciate that conservation could not succeed in isolation from the surrounding landscape. Local stewardship had to be done within a larger context that accounted for both ecological processes and socio-economic factors. This spurred the Conservancy to develop ecoregional assessments. These comprehensive plans evaluated both the biological features the organization was interested in conserving and the human aspects of the landscape that it had to work with, and prioritized conservation areas where mutual interests could best be satisfied. These ecoregional assessments have been a hallmark of the Conservancy and also an influential strategy that other organizations have adopted. By 2003, the Conservancy had programs in all 50 U.S. states and in 27 other countries, and organizational ambitions to have positive impacts on a truly global scale. The Conservancy wanted to define global priorities for the organization, and also chart a strategic vision for achieving its mission – to conserve plants, animals and natural communities that represent the diversity of life on earth. To inform the Conservancy’s thinking, I was charged with leading a series of global assessments designed to document what is known – and not known – about the distribution of biodiversity, the condition of natural habitats, stresses that put biodiversity at risk, and conservation progress across the world’s terrestrial, freshwater and marine environments. One of our first analyses was a “habitat gap analysis” to determine whether any habitat types were falling between the gaps in the world’s protected area network. International efforts to expand the global protected area network have placed more than 12% of the world’s land area under some degree of protection (Chape et al. 2004), but were those areas distributed to protect the habitats most at risk? As reported in a paper in the science journal Ecology Letters (Hoekstra et al. 2005), we juxtaposed global land cover data (ECJRC 2002) and the World Database on Protected Areas (WDPA Consortium 2006). The former classified land cover at 1 km resolution and enabled us to estimate the extent of gross habitat loss. The latter catalogs the size and location of more than 100,000 designated protected areas, and enabled us to estimate the extent of habitat protection. We evaluated the extent of habitat loss and habitat protection among the world’s thirteen terrestrial biomes, and among the 825 terrestrial ecoregions. Ecoregions are areas of land or water that contain geographically distinctive assemblages of species and ecosystems. Biomes represent global-scale patterns of habitat structure and biodiversity, grouping ecoregions that share similar environmental conditions, ecosystem types, and patterns of biological complexity. We discovered that habitat loss was most extensive in four biomes: temperate grasslands, Mediterranean forests and woodlands, temperate broadleaf forests, and tropical dry forests. But habitat protection was most extensive in temperate conifer forests, montane grasslands, and tundra. In other words, we have not protected the same habitats that we are losing. This global disparity between habitat loss and protection is most acute in temperate grassland and Mediterranean ecosystems where we have lost more than eight acres of habitat for every acre we have protected. The potential consequences are severe – not only could individual species go extinct because of inadequate habitat protection, but extensive habitat loss could put the sustainability of entire ecosystems in peril. This would impact human communities as well as natural ones. We called this risk the “biome crisis.”
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Viewed at the scale of individual ecoregions, we found even greater disparity of habitat loss and protection. Some ecoregions are still largely intact, but a surprising number have been almost completely converted. At the same time, seven ecoregions are 100% protected but many others have almost no protection at all. We classified ecoregions as “vulnerable,” “endangered” or “critically endangered” based on how much habitat had been lost and protected in each:
r r r
Vulnerable: >20% habitat loss and ratio of loss:protection > 2 : 1 Endangered: >40% habitat loss and ratio of loss:protection > 10 : 1 Critically endangered: >50% habitat loss and ratio of loss:protection > 25 : 1
The resulting map of “crisis ecoregions” identifies specific places where the problem of insufficient habitat protection in the face of extensive habitat loss is most severe (Fig. 15.2). In the end, some of these ecoregions may be too far gone for meaningful large-scale conservation. But in others, there is still opportunity to achieve a more sustainable balance of habitat loss and protection. By thinking globally about patterns of habitat loss and habitat protection, we brought a fresh perspective to the science of conservation priority-setting and discovered that the world’s temperate grasslands and Mediterranean ecosystems are more at risk than the tropical rainforests that have drawn so much attention. Conservationists have been inexorably drawn to those rainforests because of their exceptionally high species richness, but our analysis revealed that they were not necessarily the places facing the greatest conservation problems. Instead of prioritizing places based on perceptions of their biological importance (e.g., Olson and Dinerstein 2002, Mittermeier et al. 2003), we identified places where a specific conservation problem was most severe – insufficient habitat protection in the face of extensive habitat loss. Since then, other analyses have examined other conservation problems such as the risk of species loss due to climate change (Jetz et al. 2007, Lee and Jetz 2008).
Fig. 15.2 Crisis ecoregions. Vulnerable, endangered and critically endangered ecoregions identify specific places where the problem of insufficient habitat protection in the face of extensive habitat loss is most severe. Based on global analyses reported by Hoekstra et al. (2005). Map prepared by Tim Boucher
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In addition to raising public awareness of the biome crisis looming across the world’s temperate grasslands and Mediterranean ecosystems, crisis ecoregions have helped The Nature Conservancy identify organizational priorities and take important steps towards achieving its goals for more global impact. The Conservancy initiated new conservation programs focused on grasslands in North America, Argentina, and Mongolia, and brought together a network of people and organizations dedicated to conservation of the world’s Mediterranean regions. More generally, thinking about crisis ecoregions has helped the Conservancy set priorities for other terrestrial, marine and freshwater habitats where the most significant biodiversity losses can be averted, and the most substantial conservation gains achieved.
15.4 Globalizing Conservation As the world becomes more globalized, conservation is challenged to do the same. Local on-the-ground action will remain the foundation for conservation, but independent actions by individual actors will no longer be sufficient. To be successful, conservation needs to globalize in ways that leverage the same degree of influence that other economic and socio-political forces exert. Many conservation organizations are already pursuing strategies that aim to leverage global influence by coordinating demonstrative on-the-ground projects with efforts to influence national and international policies. A promising example emerged from the 2007 United Nations climate conference in Bali, Indonesia, where avoided deforestation was recognized as a legitimate vehicle for reducing greenhouse gas emissions under the expected successor agreement to the Kyoto Protocol (COP-13 2007). Support for this significant policy change was bolstered by tangible local evidence from carbon sequestration demonstration projects such as the Noel Kempff Climate Action Project in Bolivia (Winrock International 2002), and by an international commitment for finance incentives through the World Bank (Mariani 2007). More intriguing, though, are ways by which some of the same forces that have driven economic globalization could drive an equally dramatic globalization of conservation. Two ideas have transformative potential. One harnesses the communications revolution to renew connections between people and the natural world in the same way that it has enabled people to connect with one another. The other seeks to perpetuate conservation by making the costs and benefits of conserving nature more explicitly integrated into economic decision-making. The extraordinary proliferation of information technologies has enabled people to talk to one another and to share information via the internet and cell phones almost instantaneously. Already ubiquitous in most cities, cell phones and internet access are rapidly expanding into rural areas and even reaching the world’s poorest people. As described in Nicholas Sullivan’s book “You Can Hear Me Now,” the Grameen Foundation’s Village Phone program expanded cell phone access and stimulated rural economic development in Bangladesh by creating entrepreneurial opportunities for “phone ladies” to acquire cell phones and then sell minutes to others in their local communities (Sullivan 2007). The One Laptop Per Child initiative led by Nicholas Negroponte is seeking to revolutionize education for children in the developing world
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by providing computers that can connect children to their classmates and to the wider world via the internet (http://laptop.org). In an era of disconnection from the natural world, information technologies could reconnect people in ways that better match our globalized ecological footprints. Consider a product like Google Earth that enables anyone with an internet connection to virtually explore any place on the planet using interactive maps and high resolution satellite images. Users can also link to more detailed information about places and people around the world. Google Earth already includes locations and linked information about hundreds of conservation projects from organizations like the World Wildlife Fund and the Jane Goodall Institute. As conservationists make more and more information available through these sorts of technologies, it creates exciting new opportunities for people to learn about the state of the natural world and to connect with on-the-ground conservation projects that they can support regardless of whether it is near or far away. In this way, information technologies can help globalize conservation by strengthening new connections between people and faraway places, and raising awareness of needs and opportunities to contribute to local solutions. Another transformative idea that can help globalize conservation is the valuation of ecosystem services. Ecosystem services are the benefits that nature provides to us for free. They include fisheries that provide food, clean water supplies from healthy watersheds, erosion control by vegetation on steep slopes, and the sequestration of carbon in forests and soils that can help buffer against climate change. The total worldwide value of these services has been estimated at $16–54 trillion U.S. annually, equal to or greater than the global total gross national product (Costanza et al. 1997). While ecosystem services freely benefit communities and countries around the world, the recently completed Millennium Ecosystem Assessment has documented their widespread decline because of environmental degradation (Hassan et al. 2005). Putting values on ecosystem services promises to bring the benefits of conservation into the economic mainstream. For too long, conservation has relied on emotional appeals to save nature for nature’s sake. At the same time, development proponents touted social and economic benefits but largely ignored the essential values of ecosystem services, and the costs of losing them. Now, as growing populations and burgeoning resource consumption strain the ability of natural ecosystems to provide essential services, the consequences of further environmental degradation are harder to ignore. In some instances, the costs and benefits are even making conservation an economically superior choice over development alternatives. For example, New York City, Seattle, and Quito have all chosen to protect watersheds from which city water supplies are drawn because conservation is more cost-effective than substituting expensive water treatment facilities that would otherwise be required. Valuation of ecosystem services can also help stimulate new investment in conservation. As international momentum builds to curb greenhouse gas emissions, some countries are considering cap-and-trade programs for carbon emissions. As emitters look to purchase credits in these new carbon markets, they are creating a novel demand for forest conservation and restoration because of their value for sequestering carbon from the atmosphere. By bringing the costs and benefits of ecosystem services into economic analyses – internalizing them in economics parlance – conservation becomes a more competitive choice for how people use and manage their lands and waters.
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As our world becomes more and more interconnected, conservation must also globalize. By examining our expansive ecological footprints, taking a fresh global perspective on crisis ecoregions, and considering the transformative potential of information technologies and the valuation of ecosystem services, I hope I have expanded your appreciation for what it means to “think globally, act locally.” Our challenge is now to seek ways to use global thinking and our interconnectedness to reinvigorate conservation around the world.
References Bryant, D., Nielsen, D., Tangley, L. (1997). The last frontier forests: ecosystems and economies on the edge. Washington, DC: World Resources Institute. [COP-13] Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. (2007). Bali action plan. United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. http://unfccc.int/files/meetings/cop 13/application/pdf/cp bali action.pdf Accessed 28 December 2007. Chape, S., Harrison, J., Spalding, M., Lysenko, I. (2004). Measuring the extent and effectiveness of protected areas as an indicator for meeting global biodiversity targets. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B, 360, 443–455. Costanza, R., d’Arge, R., de Groot, R., Farberk, S., Grasso, M., Hannon, B., Limburg, K., Naeem, S., O’Neill, R. V., Paruelo, J., Raskin, R. G., Sutton, P., van den Belt, M. (1997). The value of the world’s ecosystem services and natural capital. Nature, 387, 256–260. [ECJRC] European Commission Joint Research Centre, Institute for Environment and Sustainability. (2002). GLC 2000: global land cover mapping for the year 2000. http://www-gvm.jrc.it/glc2000/. Accessed 31 December 2007. Hassan, R., Scholes, R., Ash, N. (Eds.). (2005). Ecosystems and human well-being: current state and trends, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Island Press. Hoekstra, J. M., Boucher, T. M., Ricketts, T. H., Roberts, C. (2005). Confronting a biome crisis: global disparities of habitat loss and protection. Ecology Letters, 8, 23–29. [IPCC] Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. (2007). Climate change 2007: synthesis report. http://www.ipcc.ch. Accessed 28 December 2007. Jetz, W., Wilcove, D. S., Dobson, A. P. (2007). Projected impacts of climate and land-use change on the global diversity of birds. PLoS Biology, 5(6), e157. Lee, T. M., Jetz, W. (2008). Future battlegrounds for conservation under global change. Proceedings of the Royal Society B, doi:10.1098/rspb.2007.1732. Mariani, E. (2007). WB launches financing for forest-saving scheme. Jakarta Post, 12(225), 12 December 2007. Mittermeier, R. A., Mittermeier, C. G., Brooks, T. M., Pilgrim, J. D., Konstant, W. R., daFonseca, G. A. B., Kormos, C. (2003). Wilderness and biodiversity conservation. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 100, 10309–10313. Olson, D. M. & Dinerstein E. (2002). The global 200: priority ecoregions for global conservation. Annals of the Missouri Botanical Garden, 89, 199–224. Pergams, O. R. W., & Zaradic, P. A. (2005). Is love of nature in the US becoming love of electronic media? 16-year downtrend in national park visits explained by watching movies, playing video games, internet use, and oil prices. Journal of Environmental Management, 80, 387–393. Rivoli, P. (2005). The travels of a T-shirt in the global economy. New Jersey: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Sanderson, E. W., Jaiteh, M., Levy, M. A., Redford, K. H., Wannebo, A. V., Woolmer, G. (2002). The human footprint and the last of the wild. Bioscience, 52(10), 891–904. Sullivan, N. P. (2007). You can hear me now. How microfinance and cell phones are connecting the world’s poor to the global economy. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. United Nations. (2006). World urbanization prospects: the 2005 revisions. United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division. http://www.un.org/esa/population/ publications/WUP2005/2005wup.htm. Accessed 28 December 2007.
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Vitousek, P. M., Ehrlich, P. R., Ehrlich, A. H., Matson, P. A. (1986). Human appropriation of the products of photosynthesis. BioScience, 36, 368–373. WDPA Consortium. (2006). 2006 world database on protected areas. http://maps.geog.umd.edu/ WDPA/index.html. Accessed 31 December 2007. Winrock International. (2002). 2001 analysis of leakage, baselines, and carbon benefits for the Noel Kempff Climate Action Project. The Nature Conservancy. http://conserveonline.org/ docs/2003/01/Noel Kempff report.doc. Accessed 28 December 2007. Worm, B., Barbier, E. B., Beaumont, N., Duffy, J. E., Folke, C., Halpern, B. S., Jackson, J. B. C., Lotze, H. K., Micheli, F., Palumbi, S. R., Sala, E., Selkoe, K., Stachowicz, J. J., Watson, R. (2006). Impacts of biodiversity loss on ocean ecosystem services. Science, 314, 787–790.
Chapter 16
Protecting Biodiversity, from Flagship Species to the Global Environment Robert A. Askins
16.1 Flagship Species While living in Japan in 2001, I visited the Hyogo Prefecture Homeland for the Oriental White Stork, a remarkable facility in the town of Toyooka that is devoted to returning storks to the wild in Japan. Once common and widespread, Oriental White Storks (Ciconia boyciana) had dwindled to only 11 individuals in the farmland near Toyooka by 1964 (Hyogo Prefectural Homeland for the Oriental White Stork, 2001). These survivors were captured with the goal of breeding them in captivity. The captive population was later supplemented with Oriental White Storks from Russia. After the first successful breeding in 1989, the captive population grew steadily, reaching 82 in 2001. Storks were first released into the wild in 2005, and in 2007 the first chick was produced by a pair of released adults (Hyogo International Association, 2008). Successful captive breeding and release of these storks was neither easy nor inexpensive. The breeding pairs were housed in large flight cages, and were supported by a research center with molecular biology labs and veterinary surgical rooms. The young storks learned to feed on their own in even larger flight cages with pools of water stocked with live fish. A large staff of scientists, veterinarians and keepers worked on this project. One’s first impression might be that this is an excessively large investment of time and money to reintroduce a single species. Entire ecosystems, such as marshes and other freshwater wetlands, are disappearing from Japan, along with numerous species and ecological processes associated with these ecosystems. Wouldn’t it be more effective to invest the money and talent devoted to the Stork Homeland to preservation and restoration of entire ecosystems? Actually, the captive breeding program for storks led to exactly this type of outcome. Captive breeding is only the first step; the next step is releasing captive-bred birds into the wild. But a successful release program requires restoration of the pools and traditional rice paddies and protection of woodland nesting sites that originally supported storks. The Stork Homeland must work with local farmers to reverse some of the agricultural changes that doomed the original stork population. The result is general habitat restoration that benefits many species. The Stork Homeland also has a museum with exhibits on general ecology and environmental stewardship as well as stork biology, and numerous environmental education programs for both children and adults. The stork has become a potent symbol for focusing attention on the fragility of the natural environment, and the importance R.A. Askins et al. (eds.), Saving Biological Diversity, C Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2008
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of protecting natural environments and biological diversity. The beauty and cultural significance of storks attracted funds and devotion that could not have been easily redirected to projects focusing on ecosystems or abstract ideas such as biodiversity. Successful propagation of storks inevitably led to concern about stork habitat, however, which led to research, public education and restoration directed at wetlands. Much of the distinction between single-species protection and ecosystem protection eventually disappeared. In other regions of Japan, conservation groups have successfully worked to restore traditional rural landscapes (called satoyama) to protect biological diversity (Takeuchi et al. 2003), so a “flagship species” is not always necessary for conservation efforts, but it can be tremendously helpful. Using a single flagship species as a symbol and focus for conservation has also been successful on several islands in the West Indies, where an organization called Rare has developed effective conservation programs (Rare 2008). This group focuses on species that are endemic to a particular island country, highlighting the distinctive natural beauty and biological diversity of each locality. Most of these endemic species are parrots, which are colorful, conspicuous and intrinsically interesting to most people. Saving parrots means saving forests, and saving forests protects watersheds and coral reefs and the fish that depend on coral reefs. Parrots are the beginning point in public education campaigns that reach every school and radio station on an island, but the final goal is appreciation and protection of complete natural ecosystems.
16.2 Focus on Endangered Species The early conservation movement in North America was largely inspired by the extinction and near extinction of once common species. For many people extinction was a much greater cause for alarm than the leveling of forests or the loss of natural prairies because extinction is irrevocable. A forest can grow again, and indeed forests have grown back on much of the formerly cleared land of eastern North America, but the passenger pigeon and Carolina parakeet cannot be restored (barring the questionable potential for a Jurassic Park-like resurrection through genetic engineering). Modern restoration ecology strives to restore the diversity and functions of natural ecosystems, but this is difficult when key components (species) are missing. Aldo Leopold (1966) described the management of natural ecosystems as a trial and error process (what we now call adaptive management) that is analogous to tinkering in order to fix a complex machine. He crystallizes the importance of preventing extinction in a typically pithy sentence: “To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.” The focus on species as the irreplaceable parts of an ecosystem comes from the biological concept of species. In his thought-provoking discussion of how we define biodiversity, Bryan Norton (Chapter 2, this volume) correctly argues that most measures of biological diversity do not reflect prior realities (true features of the natural world) but are based on arbitrary definitions, so it is appropriate to define them in a way that reflects our social values and conservation goals. For sexually reproducing organisms, however, biologists try to define species in terms of a prior reality: a species is a population of individuals that can breed only with one another, and consequently
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they have a separate trajectory of genetic change (evolution) from other species. This definition is difficult to apply in some situations: in the fossil record; in regions where two apparently different species have overlapping ranges and hybridize frequently; or for populations of similar organisms that live in isolation from one another and have no opportunity to interbreed. In a particular local ecosystem, however, species are usually distinct and easy to recognize and in fact are typically classified the same way independently by different cultures (Mayr 1963:17). For example, the five species of woodpeckers that live in a forest behind my house in Connecticut have never been recorded breeding with one another. They are genetically separate populations that have evolved separately over tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of years, and they differ distinctly in size, structure and behavior. Each woodpecker species affects other organisms in the forest ecosystem through its feeding behavior and cavity construction, and these effects differ from the ecological effects of the other four woodpecker species. For example, the permanent disappearance of pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) would result in the loss of an important ecological component, a “cog or wheel,” from the forest ecosystem. Pileated woodpeckers are not only a major predator of carpenter ants, but they also construct much larger nest and roost cavities than do other woodpeckers, providing a valuable resource for barred owls [Strix varia], wood ducks [Aix sponsa], raccoons (Procyon lotor] and other large species that need cavities for breeding or shelter (Bull and Jackson 1995). Because most biologists perceive species as a basic building block of ecosystems, they would be averse to defining biological diversity in such a way that it didn’t incorporate the “prior reality” of genetically distinct, interbreeding populations. For the same reason, biologists see the logic of an Endangered Species Act that focuses on protecting species from extinction (as described by Sheldon in Chapter 3 of this volume), and they will not lightly accept the triage approach of deciding which species are more practical to save given limited resources (although, as described by Brown in Chapter 4, in some cases we may need to make these choices). Saving species from extinction ultimately means saving their habitats, however, and this rapidly leads to an emphasis on ecosystem protection. As Sheldon (Chapter 3) explains, the difficulty of taking this necessary step is a major limitation of the Endangered Species Act (ESA). In many cases the ESA effectively protects individual animals and plants and their immediate environments, but not the larger ecosystem and regional complex of natural areas upon which they ultimately depend.
16.3 Expanding Protection from Species to Ecosystems Hecker’s case study of conservation of Piping Plovers (Charadrius melodus) nicely illustrates how a precise goal to increase the numbers of a single endangered species leads to a broader focus on the integrity of ecosystems (Hecker, Chapter 6). Early efforts to restore Piping Plover populations focused on their sand dune nesting sites. When these were protected from vehicles, pedestrians and pets, it not only increased the reproductive success of plovers, but also benefited a number of other beachnesting bird species and dune-dwelling plants and insects (such as tiger beetles). The beneficial effects on barrier beach ecosystems were even greater when the intertidal
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feeding areas of plovers were protected. Similarly, a single-species focus on Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) resulted in habitat improvements (from fish ladders to dam removal) that benefited seven other species of diadromous fish, and led to an assessment of the conditions in the non-breeding marine habitat of salmon (Gephard, Chapter 7). As Sheldon explains in her description of the Endangered Species Act, ultimately only protection of entire ecosystems, including ecosystem functions and processes, will save endangered species. However, shifting the focus from a single species to an entire ecosystem makes the goals and priorities for conservation much less clear. For example, Gromnicki (Chapter 11) demonstrates the challenges of restoring the Everglades ecosystem in southern Florida. This effort is not only politically complicated because of the multitude of landowners and political jurisdictions, but also ecologically complicated because of the large number of species involved (including 69 federally endangered and threatened species, and 19 species that are candidates for listing). While an endangered species management plan can include a precise objective that is based on population viability modeling (e.g., a certain number of breeding pairs of Piping Plovers at a certain number of separate sites), the goals for ecosystem restoration are much more complex. Crafting such plans requires input from people with expertise in economics, policy, law and philosophy as well as biology. Several contributors to this volume demonstrate how perspectives from fields outside of biology can improve ecological planning. Bryan Norton (Chapter 2) argues that we should determine what we value about biological diversity, then define and protect what is valuable. This will be determined by social values (including esthetic, educational and recreational values) as well as scientific evidence about the importance of genetic diversity and species interactions. A standard scientific measure such as species richness or a species diversity index will not convey these concerns adequately, and a much more general term (Norton recommends “web of life”) may communicate the overall conservation goal to a much broader range of people (including policy makers). Economists show us more effective ways to plan our conservation strategies to have the maximum effect on preserving biological diversity. Brown (Chapter 4) provides a clear summary of how methods from economics can be applied to conservation. A key component of a realistic economic analysis includes a consideration of “opportunity costs,” the economic value of resources that one must forgo to pursue a particular conservation strategy. In conservation planning, the monetary costs of particular strategies can be compared with their ecological benefits (such as acres saved or populations boosted) to determine which strategy gives the best outcome (“bang for buck”). Economists also argue that increasingly stringent conservation restrictions may reach a point of rapidly diminishing returns, when massive additional monetary investments or opportunity costs result in only minor conservation benefits. In addition, values that are normally considered non-monetary (such as the “existence value” of a population or ecosystem to current generations or its “bequest value” to future generations) can be estimated in monetary terms by surveying people to find out how much they would pay to preserve this value (Brown, Chapter 4). Evans et al. (Chapter 9) explore in more detail how non-use values of natural resources, which are not reflected by market transactions or other observable behavior, can be estimated. They measured the stated preferences of people who were asked to decide
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how much they would pay to reduce ecological degradation of lakes in the Adirondacks Park. Their survey revealed that people were willing to personally pay to protect the natural environment. Economic perspectives of this type provide ecologists with the information they need to develop effective conservation policies and to convince policy makers and the public that these proposed policies are worthwhile and achievable. The difficulties of creating effective policies for protecting biological diversity are compounded in marine systems, where numerous competing interests contend for a shared resource. Faraday (Chapter 8) argues that effective resource management within marine protected areas can only be achieved if there is a clear vision of the goal of sustaining a healthy marine ecosystem. It should then be possible to evaluate various human uses in terms of whether they are compatible with this goal. A similar approach has worked with land management in national forests and national wildlife refuges, but it will be more difficult to apply to marine environments that have traditionally been considered shared resources that are freely used by the public. Faraday suggests that a system for judging whether activities are compatible with ecosystem management should be developed with public participation to gain broad support. A similar challenge faces conservationists working in Brazil (Hochstetler and Keck, Chapter 13), where environmental protection must be closely integrated with community development. According to Hochstetler and Keck, Brazilians are more concerned about deforestation than preventing extinction, and they tend to focus on environmental justice. Successful conservation may depend largely on establishment of “extractive reserves” (forest reserves and indigenous reserves that permit smallscale agriculture and harvesting of forest products) more than establishment of completely protected nature reserves. Even when consensus is reached about the goals for an ecosystem, restoration and protection efforts may require complex decisions about how to achieve these goals. As Anderson (Chapter 10) demonstrates, protecting forest ecosystems involves much more than saving a certain number of acres of forest. To preserve ecological functions in forests over the long term, the forests must be extensive enough to sustain species with large home ranges as well as bird species that require a minimum area of forest-interior habitat to breed successfully. They must also be large enough so that predictable natural disturbances create habitat diversity rather than uniform, catastrophic change. For example, a tornado may enhance biological diversity in an extensive forest by creating patches of early successional habitat, but may reduce biological diversity in a small forest by destroying the entire mature-forest canopy. With information on these various factors, conservation groups and agencies can determine a minimum goal for the area of forest reserves in a particular region. In dramatic contrast to Anderson’s discussion of the importance of large nature reserves for conservation, Kennedy (Chapter 5) explains how numerous species of threatened and endangered plants can only be saved by preserving small patches of specialized habitat. This approach also undoubtedly involves ecosystem protection, but at a much finer scale, where the focus is on ancient dunes, calcareous ridges, bogs and other restricted ecosystems. The association of many plants and invertebrates with precise habitats or microhabitats has been largely ignored as conservationists focused on the minimum areas for dominant ecosystems.
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16.4 Expanding Protection from Ecosystems to the Biosphere Just as the effort to protect single species quickly leads to efforts to protect an entire habitat, the effort to protect particular ecosystems leads to concern about global processes in the atmosphere and oceans. A superbly managed marine protected area will not remain effective for very long if acidification of the ocean leads to declines and extinctions among major groups of marine organisms such as corals, sea urchins and phytoplankton (a possibility described by Burns in Chapter 14). Similarly, even if forests are large enough to sustain species that need large areas of habitat and to absorb natural disturbances without losing mature-forest species, they may still suffer declines in biological diversity and ecological functioning because of global climate change. This global context leads to the superficially counterintuitive recommendation by Foster and Labich (Chapter 12) that more areas should be logged in Massachusetts to contribute to long-term ecological sustainability. Sustainable logging in Massachusetts would have much less severe environmental impacts than harvesting old-growth tropical hardwoods and shipping them to Massachusetts. Harvesting of forests in New England would insure that the residents obtain a greater proportion of their resources locally and perhaps would engender a better appreciation among residents of the importance of natural ecosystems for human well being. Forests would grow back after logging and would continue to sequester carbon. Like Foster and Labich, Hoekstra (Chapter 15) also asks us to consider the environment of the entire planet when we make decisions. At the personal level, this involves carefully considering the ecological impact of the products we buy. In terms of conservation policy, it entails identifying ecosystems at risk on a global scale and planning for the potential impact of climate change. Hoekstra describes an analysis that reveals which ecosystems are at greatest risk (based on total habitat loss and amount of habitat protected) throughout the world. This Nature Conservancy study identified temperate grasslands, Mediterranean woodlands and tropical dry forests as particularly vulnerable. These ecosystems should be a high priority for global conservation efforts along with more traditional targets such as the Amazon rainforest. The debate about whether conservation should focus primarily on single species, ecosystems, or the entire global environment is ultimately sterile because these approaches are interdependent and mutually supporting. We cannot preserve or restore intact ecosystems if we allow their component species to disappear, and the health of the biosphere cannot be sustained without healthy ecosystems. Also, interest and commitment to conservation often begin with a specific species or local population that is at risk. Because this population depends on a healthy habitat, and a healthy habitat ultimately depends on a healthy global environment, the initial concern tends to expand outward to encompass larger and larger perspectives. When the Hyogo Prefecture Homeland for the Oriental White Stork was first developed, it is doubtful that the “limited resources” used for a stork breeding program could have been redirected to marsh restoration in Hyogo Prefecture, much less to restoration of marshes in faraway Hokkaido or for protection of rainforests in Indonesia. The stork program has already led to marsh ecosystem restoration, and has planted the seeds for concern about more distant ecosystems and the global environment.
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References Bull, E. L., & Jackson, J. A. (1995). Pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus). In A. Poole (Ed.), The birds of North America online. Ithaca, New York: Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Retrieved from the Birds of North America Online: http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/148. Accessed April 15, 2008. Hyogo International Association. (2008). Hyogo International Association Blog. http://hyogoia.blogspot.com/2007 06 01 archive.html. Accessed March 30, 2008. Hyogo Prefectural Homeland for the Oriental White Stork. (2001). Annual Bulletin. Hyogo Prefectural Homeland for the Oriental White Stork: Toyooka City, Hyogo. Leopold, A. (1966). A Sand County almanac with other essays on conservation from Round River. New York: Oxford University Press. Mayr, E. (1963). Animal species and evolution. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Rare. (2008). Rare homepage. http://www.rareconservation.org/. Accessed April 5, 2008. Takeuchi, K., Brown, R. D., Washitani, I., Tsunekawa, A., Yokohari, M. (2003). Satoyama. The traditional rural landscape of Japan. New York: Springer.
Index
Note: The letter t and f in the index locators refer to tables and figures respectively A Acceler8, 146 Acidification, ocean CO2 on ocean chemistry, impacts of, 189f CO2 problem, 188 coral reef organisms, 187 Special Report on Emissions Scenarios, 189 Adirondacks contingent valuation survey, 104 ecosystem improvements “base case” version, 107 hypothetical liming program, demonstrating, 110f improvement program, future with, 109f interpreting responses, 110–112 “lakes of concern,” 108 from reduced acid deposition, 101 referendum question, 108f “scope case” version, 108 severe damage patches from downbursts, 122f African elephant populations in different countries, estimated changes in, 42t Amazon Working Group (Grupo de Trabalho Amazˆonico – GTA), 183 Anadromous Fisheries Conservation Act, 77 Anthropogenic CO2 emissions and ocean acidification acidification research, problems in, 194 ocean acidification, 188–189 potential impacts of ocean acidification, 190–193 acidosis, 193 calcifying species, 190–193 toxic effects on ocean organisms, 193 See also Calcifying species, impacts on research, needs/into policy, 193–195 basket approach, 194 FACE, 194
Kyoto Protocol, 195 UNFCCC, 194 See also Acidification, ocean Aragonite-producing pteropods, 192 Armilleria root disease, 122 Atlantic Coast Piping Plover Recovery Plan (1988), 66 Atlantic Monthly, 156 Atlantic salmon, 75, 216 demise of species, 77 developments, 79–81 international efforts, 81 life cycle, 75 New England rivers supporting, 76f nominal catch, North Atlantic Ocean (1960–2006), 81f “non-random/non-blind” mating, 79 restoration efforts, 77–79 restoring to New England, 75–77, 82–33 returns of/production by aquaculture in Maine waters (1965–2005), 80f B “Balance of nature,” 22 Bang for Buck Analysis, 38t Barrier beach management, 68, 69 Base case survey, 109, 111, 112 Better Bang for a Buck (BBB), 37 biological/economic metrics, 38t salmon population growth rate, 38t Big Cypress National Preserve, 140 Biodiversity definitions, 12, 14 biological, 15 difference, 16 inventory, 15, 16 for policy contexts, 15 “standard definition,” 15 Terry Erwin, 16 221
222 Biodiversity (cont.) Thomas Lovejoy, 18 flowers, aesthetic appeal, 49 land conservation system, 27–28 See also Federal public lands protecting, 213–214 ecosystems to biosphere, 218 endangered species, focus on, 214–215 species to ecosystems, 215–217 public policy discourse, 18–19 Biodiversity in Brazil and Amazon, approaches to preservation Minist´erio P´ublico in environmental conservation, 181–182 Conduct Adjustment Agreements, 181 multi-scale environmental protection networks, 182–184 protected areas in Brazil, 178–180 “boomerang” strategy, 183 “Challenge to Conservationists,” 178 deforestation, 179 external forces from government agencies, 180 extractive reserve, 179–180 “internationalization of Amazon,” 183 participatory mapping projects, 180 SIVAM program, 183 See also Deforestation, Brazil Biological legacies, 127 Biome crisis, 207 Biophilia, 204 Biscayne Aquifer, drinking water, 140 “Blue List” of birds, 61 Boomerang strategy, 183, 184 Brazilian judicial system, 181 Bridge term, 12 “Business as usual,” 189 C Calcification, 190 Calcifying species, impacts on calcium carbonate, forms of, 190 coral reefs, 190–191 Bicarbonate formation in the oceans, 190f potential impacts on other calcifying species, 191–193 aragonite-producing pteropods (sea butterflies), 192 coccolithophores, 191 deep-sea carbonate dissolution, 193 echinoderms, 192 phytoplankton, 191 planktonic foraminifera, 192 saturation of seawater, 190 California Marine Life Protection Act, 89
Index California Ocean Protection Act, 88–89 Carbon dynamics, pattern of, 161f CDWG, see Compatibility Determination Working Group (CDWG) Center for Plant Conservation (CPC), 54–56 mission, 47–48 Robbins’ cinquefoil, recovery of, 55–56 vanishing flora approaches to conservation reserves, 52–53 distribution and status of imperiled plants, 50–52 imperiled plants, imbalance in attention/resources/expertise, 53–54 value of native plant species, 48–50 Central and Southern Florida Flood Control Project (C&SF Project), 139 CERP, see Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP) “Challenge to Conservationists,” 178 Chestnut blight, 121 Choice experiment/attribute-based surveys, 104 Choice experiment or attribute-based surveys, see Conjoint surveys CITES, see Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) Clean Air Interstate Rule, 106 Clean Water Act (1972), 77 Compatibility determination, SBNMS, 92–95 Compatibility Determination Working Group (CDWG), 93 action plan, 97 tanker and whales in SBNMS, 93f Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP), 139 Comprehensive Wildlife Conservation Plan, 30 Conceptual Plan for the C&SF Project Restudy, 142 Conduct Adjustment Agreements, 181 Congress authorized Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Commission (CRASC), 77 Conjoint surveys, 104, 112, 113 advantages, 112 Connecticut River Program, 78 deserting, 80 goal, 78 provision of fish passage, 78 vs. Penobscot River Restoration Program, 78 Connecticut River’s genetic management program, 78 Conservation based on economic motives, 35 biome crisis, 203 biophilia, 204 crisis ecoregions, 204–205 biomes, 207
Index classification, 208, 208f habitat gap analysis, 207 ecological footprints, 204–205 globalizing ecosystem services, valuation of, 210 information technologies, 209 Noel Kempff Climate Action Project, 209 One Laptop per Child, 209 Village Phone program, 209 human footprint, 205f imbalance in regulatory/ funding/planning/staff support for plant, 53–54 opportunity cost, 36–39 cost estimates for saving species, 37t of piping plover, 61–62 plant biodiversity, 51 success, exemplary model of, 65 value, 49 Contingent valuation survey, 104, 106, 112 Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES), 25 CO2 on ocean chemistry, impacts of, 189 Cost effectiveness study, 39 Crisis ecoregions, 7, 203, 204–205, 206, 208, 208f biomes, 207 classification, 208, 208f habitat gap analysis, 207 “Critical Habitat,” 24 Current-use tax programs, 168 D Deforestation, Brazil border crossing and, 183 deterred, 180 inhibition of, 179 rates of, 179 Deterred deforestation, 180 Disturbance dynamics, forest ecosystems, 125f downbursts, 124 fire, 124 four-times-the-severe-damage-patch guideline , 124 ice storm damage, 124 porcupine damage, 122 tornado damage ranges, 123 Windstorms, primary disturbance, 122 See also Forest ecosystems, guidelines for conservation Diversity, 15, 17 E Echinoderms, 190, 192 Ecological economic zoning (ZEE), 178, 179
223 Ecology Letters, 207 Ecosystem, valuing benefits from benefit-cost paradigm, see Stated preference methods comparing stated preference methods and expanding region of interest, 112–113 improvements in adirondacks details, 107–110 interpreting responses, 110–112 nonuse value, 101 services, 17, 159 valuation of, 210 Ecosystem-based management, 91 Elephant populations in seven different countries, estimated, 41 Endangered ecosystems, 22 Endangered species economics of protecting conservation, based on economic motives, 35–36 controversial policy, 41–42 cost estimates for saving species, 37t diminishing returns, 40 opportunity cost, importance of, 36–39 people’s reaction, 41 saving all species, possibilities, 40–41 valuing non-market goods, 42–43 examples, 50 focus on, 214–215 list, 23 people’s reaction, 41 value of, 24 Endangered Species Act (ESA) CITES, 25 conservation and recovery, 24 consultation, 24 critical habitat designation, 24 endangered species list, 23 focus on individual species, 22 goals of, 22, 24 limits, 22 new directions, 25–26 biodiversity land conservation system, 27–28 ecosystem protection goal, 26–27 federal public lands, 28–29 private lands, 29–30 state lands, 30 reintroduction, 25 species conservation value, 49 taking, ban on, 24–25 Environmental Valuation Reference Inventory, 106 Equilibrium paradigm, 22 ESA, see Endangered Species Act (ESA)
224
Index
Everglades, restoration, 138f assurances, 146–147 case for restoring Everglades, 138–140 CERP, 140 governance, multi-jurisdictional, 140–144 implementation process, 144–146 Acceler8, 146 authorization, 145 construction, 145–146 Picayune Strand Restoration, 146 securing lands for restoration, 144–145 Ten Mile Creek Water Preserve Area Critical Restoration Project, 146 keys to, 140 meaning, 137–138 problems of process, trust and responsibility, 142–143 “Restudy Bill,” 143 process and players, governmental cooperation/consensus-building governor’s commission for sustainable South Florida, 141–142 restudy team, state/federal/tribal partners for progress, 142 South Florida ecosystem restoration task force, 141 WRDA and C&SF project restudy, 141 renewed efforts of cooperation Everglades coalition, 143–144 WRAC, 143 restoration success, 147–148 social sustainability, 148 Everglades coalition, 143–144 Existence value, 103 Ex-situ conservation, 55 Extractive reserve, 179–180
negative factors, 127 roads, 129–130, 129f hurricane disturbances at Pisgah forest, 121f landscape context, 130–132, 131f connectivity, effects of, 130 size, 121 area of total canopy destruction, 121 disturbance dynamics, 120–124 minimum dynamic area, estimation, 121 species requirements, 124–126 synthesis, disturbances/species requirements, 126–127 See also Disturbance dynamics, forest ecosystems twin strategies, 132 Free Air Carbon Dioxide Enhancement (FACE), 194 Fry (young salmon), 75 See also Atlantic salmon
F FACE, see Free Air Carbon Dioxide Enhancement (FACE) FBOMS, Brazilian Forum of NGOs and Social Movements for the Environment and Development, 183 Federal public lands, 28–29 Fishing off the logs, 39 Flagship species, 7, 214 Florida Conflict Resolution Consortium, 141 Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary, 140 Flotsam, see Logs Forest ecosystems, guidelines for conservation condition, 127–130 biological legacies, 128 biological legacy features in old growth northern hardwood forests, 129t decaying logs, 127 forest patch, 127
H Habitat approaches, 177 Habitat Conservation Plan (HCP), 27 Habitat Conservation Planning Handbook, 27 “Hard” deforestation, 156 HCP, see Habitat Conservation Plan (HCP) Human footprint, 205f Human values, 14 Hurricanes disturbances at Pisgah forest, 121f and tornadoes in Northeast over last century, 123t Hypercapnia, 193 Hypothetical Liming Program, 110
G GCC, see Global climate change (GCC) Global climate change (GCC), 42 Globalizing conservation, 209–211 ecosystem services, valuation of, 210 information technologies, 209 Noel Kempff Climate Action Project, 209 One Laptop Per Child, 209 Village Phone program, 209 Global warming potential, 194 Google Earth, 203, 210 Great New England, hurricane of 1938, 122 Greenhouse gases, 194 Grupo de Trabalho Amazˆonico (GTA), 183 GTA, see Grupo de Trabalho Amazˆonico (GTA)
I Ice storm damage, 124 Imperiled native plant species, genera readily recognizable, 49t
Index Industrial revolution, 157 Information technologies, 209 In-situ conservation, 55 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), 187 IPCC, see Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) J Jet ski operation, 96 Joint Ocean Commission, 88 K Keith Ross of LandVest, 173 L LAC, see “Limits of Acceptable Change” (LAC) Lakes ecosystem, improvement program, 109f Lakes of concern, 108 “Last of the wild,” 205 Limits of Acceptable Change (LAC), 94, 96 Logs, 39 Long Term Ecological Research (LTER), 164 LTER, see Long Term Ecological Research (LTER) M Maps of New England comparing extent of forest cover (left)/area of natural open space legally protected from future development, 167f Marine ecosystems, 88 Marine protected areas (MPA), 5 role of, 89–90 Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act, 90 Marine sanctuary (1975, nation’s first), 90 Massachusetts Audubon Society, 165 The Massachusetts Miracle (Line 1996), 64–72 Massachusetts Nature Conservancy, 173 Massachusetts Oceans Act, 89 Mega-diverse countries, 177 Minimum dynamic area, 121 See also Forest ecosystems, guidelines for conservation “Monistic,” definition, 14 MPA, see Marine protected areas (MPA) N NASCO, see North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization (NASCO) National Marine Sanctuaries Act, see Sanctuaries Act National Marine Sanctuary Program (NMSP), 94 purposes, 91
225 National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), 105 National Wildlife Refuge System, 29 laws and regulations, 95 Nature Conservancy, 165, 206–207 The Nature Conservancy’s Eastern Region, 132 New England Natural Resources Center, 173 NIMBY, see “Not in my backyard” (NIMBY) NMSP, see National Marine Sanctuary Program (NMSP) NOAA, see National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) NOAA Organic Act, 88 Noah’s Choice, 40 Noel Kempff Climate Action Project, 209 Non-random/non-blind mating, 79 Nonuse values, 103 North Atlantic Salmon Conservation Organization (NASCO), 81 Northern hardwood forests, biological legacy features, 129t “Not in my backyard” (NIMBY), 184 O Ocean Action Plan, 89 Ocean ecosystems, 88 “Oceans 21,” 88 Okeechobee gourd, 50 One Laptop Per Child, 209 Oriental White Storks, 213 Origin of Species (1859), 12 P PACFISH, 27 Parks Adirondack, 5, 106, 113, 114, 124 Biscayne National Park, 140 Everglades National Park, 140, 143, 145 Great Smokey Mountains National Park, 53 Saba Marine Park, 94 Shenandoah National Park, 113 Yellowstone, 25, 29, 106 ‘Parr’ (young salmon), 75 See also Atlantic salmon Passive use value, 103 “Payment vehicle,” 105 Penobscot River Restoration Program, 77 vs. Connecticut River program, 78 Pew Oceans Commission, 88, 89 “Phone ladies,” 209 Picayune Strand Restoration, 146 Piping Plover, 60f, 61, 215–216 Audubon Launches Massachusetts Model Nationwide, 73 chicks and egg, 64f
226 Piping Plover (cont.) conservation trends for, 61–62 as indicator species, 62–63 in Massachusetts, change in number of breeding pairs (1986-2006), 71f “The Massachusetts Miracle” (Line 1996), 64–72 Plymouth Beach, impact of off-road vehicles on, 69–70, 69f predator exclosure, 67f range map of, 62f recognition as species, 61 and tern nesting area protected with welded-wire fence, 68f umbrella effect on winter grounds, 72–73 as umbrella species, 59–61, 63–64 Pisgah Forest, hurricane disturbances, 121f “Pit bull of environmental statutes,” see Endangered Species Act (ESA) Plankton, definition, 108 Planktonic foraminifera, 192 The Plover Bill, 62 Policy-relevant definition of biodiversity, 11–13 biological definitions, 15 biodiversity in public policy discourse, 18–19 impossibility of addition, 17–18 inventory/difference definitions, 15–17 social goals/policy objectives, 13–15 theory of value, 13 Poliseria (pollution plus misery), 178 Porcupine damage, 122 Profit/producer surplus, 102 Project catalyst, 168 Pteropods role of, 192 See also Calcifying species, impacts on Public goods, 103 Q Quabbin Reservoir, 159 R “Radiative forcing,” 188 Ramsar wetland of international importance, 139 Rare (organization), 214 Red spruce, 120 Referenda-voting type mechanisms, 105 Robbins’ cinquefoil, 55, 56f 50/500 rule, 124 See also Forest ecosystems, guidelines for conservation
Index S Sanctuaries Act, 5, 90 compatibility language in, 92 “findings” section, 92 “purposes and policies” section, 92 Sanctuary Compatibility Analysis Process (S-CAP), 96 jet ski operation, 96 “Save the whale,” 177 Saw timber in Massachusetts, total volume of (1953-1998), 161f SBNMS, see Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary (SBNMS) S-CAP, see Sanctuary Compatibility Analysis Process (S-CAP) Scope case survey, 111 “Scorched earth” technique, 45 Sea butterflies, see Aragonite-producing pteropods; Calcifying species, impacts on Sea change, management to protect ocean ecosystems, 87–89 marine protected areas, role of, 89–90 MPA program, National Marine Sanctuaries, 90–91 SBNMS, compatibility determination, 92–95 Stellwagen CDWG, conclusions, 96–97 use and protection, 91–92 SFWMD, see South Florida Water Management District (SFWMD) Shenandoah National Park, reduced acidification, 113 ‘Smolts,’ 75 See also Atlantic salmon “Soft” deforestation, 156 South Florida Ecosystem, 151 restoration task force, 141 South Florida Water Management District (SFWMD), 140 Species biological concept of, 214 definitions, 12, 214–215 in legislation, 11 reintroduction, 25 requirements, conserving forest ecosystems, 124–126 area-sensitive songbirds, 126 bird species, 126 breeding species area requirements, 125 forest patch, requirements, 126 scaling factors, setting size thresholds for matrix forming communities, Northern Appalachians, 125f
Index Sprawl and deforestation, effects of, 162 pattern of, 162 fragmentation of large blocks, 162 parcelization of ownerships, 162 perforation of individual forest blocks, 162 Stated preference methods benefit-cost paradigm, 102 concerns about using, 105 current practice, 106 desirable qualities of, 104–105 payment vehicle, 105 referendum-style voting question, 105 extending to government decision making, 102–103 goods, changes in quality/quantity, 103 and nonuse values, 103–104 conjoint/contingent valuation, 104 surveys, common varieties, 104 Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary (SBNMS), 92, 93f, 95, 96 CDWG, tanker and whales in SBNMS, 93f compatibility, determination, 92–95 draft management plan, 97 Stern’s medlar, 51f Stork Homeland, 213 Stratton Commission (1969), 88 Striped maple, 120 “Sustainability,” 149 System for Vigilance of the Amazon (SIVAM) program, 183
T “Taking,” ban on, 24–25 Ten Mile Creek Water Preserve Area Critical Restoration Project, 146 “Think globally, act locally,” 7, 204, 206, 211 Tornado damage ranges, 123 The Travels of a T-shirt in the global economy, 206 Tree Farm, 168 Trustees of Reservations, The, 165
U Umbrella species, Piping Plovers, 59–73 UNFCCC, see United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) United Kingdom’s Royal Society, 189 United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), 194 United Nation’s Earth Summit, 183
227 U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), 50, 56, 61, 63 USFWS, see U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) V Value pluralism, 14 Valuing non-market goods, 42–43 costs for reducing forest loss due to climate change, 44t ecosystem change, willingness to pay, 45t “Videophilia,” 204 Village Phone program, 209 W Water Resources Development Act (WRDA), 140 Wetland Protection Act (1986), 66, 69, 70 Wildlands and Woodlands (W&W), 164–166, 171, 173 Wildlands and Woodlands report, 170 Wildlife Action Plan, see Comprehensive Wildlife Conservation Plan Willingness to pay (WTP), 1–4, 104 Windstorms, primary disturbance, 122 World Database on Protected Areas (WDPA Consortium 2006), 207 World Watch, 178 WRDA, see Water Resources Development Act (WRDA) WRDA and C&SF project restudy, 141 WTP, see Willingness to pay (WTP) W&W, see Wildlands and Woodlands (W&W) W&W vision for new England landscape and biodiversity, context of new England history, 166–167 and eastern forests, 170–173 New England landscape, contrasting views, 172f forest cover in New England states/human population over past 300 years, 157f forests, 164–166, 164t–165t forests as natural infrastructure, 159–160 global environment, management of new England forests, 163–164 Massachusetts, wood foot print of, 163f history of US eastern population, 157–158 local/global in perspective, 173 local woodlands and eastern forests, 160–162 carbon dynamics, pattern of, 161f carbon storage, 160–161 “mid-latitude forests,” 162 re-greening of east, 156–159 second chance, opportunity/need for forest conservation, 162–163 “sprawl,” 162–163
228 W&W vision for new England landscape (cont.) synopsis of, 164t–165t Wildland and Woodland proposal, 166f wildlife species over past 300 years and human attitudes, 158f, 166–167 woodland councils, resource/catalyst, 167–170 diversity/land trust activity, southern New England, 170f
Index strategies for achieving W&W vision, 169t structure of, 169 Y “You Can Hear Me Now,” 209 Z ZEE, see Ecological economic zoning (ZEE)
