The complexity of Harvey Manning
Editor's note: The following thoughtful letter arrived from Paul Manning, son of Harvey Manning, who was for many years a leading advocate of wilderness protection in the Northwest. Paul Manning is taking issue with the characterization of his father as an advocate of "wilderness celibacy," which was in the blog item by Pete Jackson a few days ago, called "Climate change comes to our National Parks."
I actually have no complaint about the substance of the article. The argument is sound, and the dilemmas very real. My complaint is that you attribute a very simplistic view of the wilderness to my late father, and I would respectfully like to set the record straight.
You attribute a kind of "wilderness celibacy" to my father, and it is true, anyone who is honest will have to admit to themselves that this is the unachievable ideal, because it is the very definition of "wilderness": true wilderness, by definition of what we mean when we say "wild," would be the sort of thing that the moment humans go there, would cease to exist. So, anyone who wants to protect wilderness will have that sort of idea lurking at the back of their head, because otherwise they really don't know what the word means, in English, it seems to me.
But this is an unachievable daydream, a utopia. But utopias are very necessary for practical politics, too. Daydreams which help create real changes. But humans are ambivalent, and my father no less so. Any political program must be divided into its utopian moment, the ideal case which you cannot achieve, but which serves as the measurement of the practical program, what you can achieve. Call it a negotiating position.
The position of [historian] William Cronon is in fact my father's position; it formed the raison d'etre of writing trail guides as a form of political action. He always said that every new hiker that was brought into the mountains by his trail guides was a potential voter. Boots on trails leads to votes in the polling box. Every last stage of his writing was aimed at this goal, to bring them into the wilderness, starting with edge wildernesses, with day hikers and campers, to places where they could see the true wilderness from afar, and then get them in deeper and deeper.
It is true, as more hikers hit the wilderness, the other ideal, of saving the wilderness from those who love it too much, becomes a goal that all who love the wilderness must regretfully embrace. The practical way to do this, my father argued, was to provide alternative wildernesses, closer to home, to diffuse the impact away from those, like Mount Rainier, that were being loved too much.
It's not like it is possible to set up straw men who embrace either position completely, because this ambivalence is the only intellectual honest position. The other two positions [Pete Jackson} sets up are both half right, and therefore all wrong. If I had to ask which was worse as a position, I would have to conclude that they are both worse.
If you want to see this ambivalent, and to my mind, deeply honest struggle of a man who committed his life to steering between these two mutually contradictory, and yet equally valid, positions, see the documentary recently made about my father's thinking about wilderness "The Irate Birdwatcher," for news about which see this website..
While [Jackson's] article is useful and valuable, it sets up straw man oppositions which are too narrow to capture the real ambivalence of my father's thinking, and I would submit, anyone's thinking who has confronted the fact that with respect to the wilderness, we have met the enemy, he is us. We who love the wilderness are also those who are most dangerous to it. That's just being honest. Anyone who has been in the wilderness would admit that there is no sense that wilderness, as wilderness, is improved by human presence. The human presence there is what produces votes here that help protect it to some extent, so there is a trade off. But let's face it, if we were all to die tomorrow it wouldn't need our protection anymore. That's pretty straightforward home truth. After all, we are the agents of global warming.
The real problem is that we can no longer accept a paradigm of wilderness that it can be protected locally, with parks and wilderness areas. I think your article draws attention to that, and it is an important thing, which is that wilderness conservation needs to be part of a broad, global environmental program that includes pristine wilderness and the most sullied of all possible cityscapes, as part of a single thing we need to protect, Earth.









Comments:
Posted Sat, Jun 6, 4:40 p.m. inappropriate
Professor Manning,
Thank you for your very thoughtful response. I'm guilty of taking the intellectually lazy route of framing a complex argument as an either/or proposition (and straw men serve that purpose). In the process, I used your father as shorthand for the "keep out" school which, as you rightly point out, simplifies the rich legacy of a complicated man. Harvey Manning was not only the consummate conservationist, but the consummate Northwesterner as well. In terms of connecting hikers and families to the wilds of the Northwest, he stands unrivaled.
You've also held up a mirror to my own ambivalence. Last week Superintendent Jenkins observed that it's the same distance from the Pike Place Market to Paradise at Mt. Rainier as it is from the market to North Cascades National Park. I consciously chose not to trumpet this little fact because, well, the North Cascades are my equivalent of a secret fishing hole. I'd much rather have tourists overrun Paradise (no pun intended) than the pristine and extraordinary North Cascades--a national park, by the way, that would not exist without the leadership and tireless elbowing of Harvey Manning.
Sincerely, Pete Jackson
Posted Sun, Jun 7, 6:31 a.m. inappropriate
Actually, I think you were right to rhetorically frame the opposition as a logical 'either'/'or', because logically it is a classic antinomy, a situation where you have two arguments which are logically contradictory and yet both seem on their own to be reasonable or even necessary. This is the sort of thing that if you tell them to a Robot, you get first a 'logic bomb' effect (does not compute, does not compute, illogical...) and then a classic 'explosive circuitry' effect (robot head explodes). But we humans are immune to logic bombs, we are capable of believing all manner of contradictory things. This either means we are very stupid, very wise, or at least gives us a secret weapon when our robotic servants revolt. The point wasn't that the logical or rhetorical opposition, the dilemma it states, wasn't very real, the criticism is more that my father was immune to logic bombs. It's convenient to represent arguments by pinning them on people, but usually people will believe A and also not A, at different times or even the same time. The younger Harvey Manning, I think, could not grasp the tragedy that so transfixed the older Harvey Manning, that wilderness lovers could, in the process of loving the wilderness, hurt it as much as miners, loggers, ATVers and whatnot. It's sad when you realize you are hurting the one you love. So, while he admitted that maybe abstinence, as you say, was really the right move, he instead found us new objects of desire, closer to home, incidentally creating new parks along the way. And yes, he too had his secret spots. But where those were, is a secret! Thanks for the article, which I really enjoyed, and also for the generous comment.
Best,
Paul Manning
Posted Sun, Jun 7, 7:42 a.m. inappropriate
How refreshing and delightful to read the thoughts of two thoughtful and intelligent men whose logic and discussion is worthy of remembering. Thank you Paul Manning, Pete Jackson and David Brewster for raising the bar of Crosscut commentary.
Posted Wed, Jun 17, 10:47 p.m. inappropriate
I never met Harvey Manning, but I am in his debt. I was born in the 50's, and although my parents loved the outdoors, they were very much a part of the culture of the automobile. We saw lots of "windshield wilderness" when I was a kid, whether it was at a campground on the Stillaguamish or pulling the trailer on our annual pilgrimage to Yosemite or Yellowstone or Grand Canyon. I'm very thankful that my childhood is full of such memories, but it was Harvey (and Ira Spring) who made me see the car as a means to an end, not the end itself.
His guidebooks put my boots on the trail and introduced me to places I fell in love with. His commentaries made me realize I had a responsibility to those places and to future generations. I've tried to live up to that, writing letters, going to hearings, talking to friends, joining groups like Defenders of Wildlife, Sierra Club and Washington Trails Association. Just inches away from me now, next to my monitor, are a half dozen Mountaineers books, including two by Harvey, and several more are in the bookcase nearby. I'm currently reading his book "Wilderness Alps" about the struggle to preserve the North Cascades, and I'm in awe of how much he (and the Zalesky's, Polly Dyer, Grant McConnell and a few others) have left as a legacy to us.
It's possible to love wilderness and to leave it alone. I go hiking almost every weekend (my Facebook page resembles one of Mr. Manning's "100 hikes" books), but I avoid the overused, crowded trails, especially in fragile high mountain meadows. That restraint is just one of the many lessons that Harvey taught that I've taken to heart.
We need to keep trails open to keep crowds dispersed, we need crowds dispersed to protect the wilderness, and we need to add more wilderness to make up for what was left out of wilderness and park designation due to political pressures from the timber industry in decades past. One of those new additions should be named the Harvey Manning Wilderness!
Posted Thu, Jun 18, 10:18 p.m. inappropriate
Nice stuff here. Thinking about Harvey and ambivalence, this quote came to mind (from "Walking the Beach to Bellingham"). One of my favorites, not sure why.
"I turned up Oyster Creek, the incongruously small dribble that issues from the disproportionately grand cleft that separates Blanchard Hill from Chuckanut Mountain. Its little delta was a pig farm. The swine rushed out snuffling and oinking, restrained by the electric wire from offering me a warmer welcome. I wondered how it would be to eat our dogs . . . and take our pigs walking."
Posted Mon, Jul 6, 4:16 p.m. inappropriate
It seems to me that staying out of wilderness is only achievable when nature presents a degree of fear in mankind sufficient to keep mankind out.
Do you need to love wilderness to save it? Not sure. Do you need to understand it? Yes. How can you understand if you stay out of it or don’t feel the pleasure or wrath of it?
It is the type of under-the-skin question—similar to Norman Maclean’s self-identity question in “Young Men and Fire”—that should haunt us until our final breath, to paraphrase the late author, and when it ceases to haunt us it tells us we are dead.
We will never know what to do about wilderness in the sense of saving it. Natural forces and our human nature of ambivalence are too omnipotent. They negate any model or formula our aptitude could muster. Could it be said that this is a prime example of the unending secular nature of wilderness and man? Or could it be said that our effort, unbeknownst to us, is actually part of nature’s grand formula that ultimately saves or destroys the wild in this world? The latter question ultimately poses itself penultimate to another perennial question: Is man part of nature?
Thank you immensely, Crosscut, Mr. Jackson and the Mannings for evoking such a thoughtful and self-examining discourse on the matter of wilderness.