THE INCREDIBLES
One of the very few bright lights on the environmental scene has been success of the Coalition of Retired National Park Service Employees in combating the most environmentally destructive Presidential Administration in recent American history.
In the few short years of the Coalition's existence, it has managed to knock the wheels off the Bush Administration's apple cart of destructive environmental ideas at least as far as the National Parks are concerned. Like everyone, THUNDERBEAR is pleasantly amazed!
This is incredible!
How they were able to do it is as interesting as the fact that they did it.
Until the advent of the Coalition, the Administration's assault on the environment appeared as unstoppable as the German Blitzkrieg of 1940.
Using a revolutionary combination of armor, aircraft, and mechanized infantry coordinated by encrypted radio, the Nazis swiftly overwhelmed the traditional armies of the Allies, who literally did not know how to cope with the new tactics.
The Bush Administration used similar blitzkrieg tactics to attack the Environment and its defenders. A Congressional majority was acquired by a combination of brilliant gerrymandering and complacency on the part of the Democratic Party. Next, a fake "Mandate" from the American people to "save" the environment from "counterproductive" and "unrealistic" environmental regulations was "discovered" and promulgated. A vast armada of Trojan horse "environmental" groups was surreptitiously funded by Industry to do exactly the opposite of what their green, woodsy names implied. Biased "studies" funded by very concerned and often very shady interest groups and carried out by financially interested "scientists" were touted as the New Holy Writ. Contrary findings were dismissed as "flawed" and peer review dismissed or not performed. Funding was suddenly unavailable for environmental agencies and environmental projects, all of which could be done better by volunteers or private enterprise, according to Administration hacks.
Environmental Quislings and Fifth Columnists, many of them trained by and inserted into various agencies by James Watt, were activated. Dubious "experts" on the Environment and park practices such as Chuck Cushman and Paul Hoffman appeared center stage.
Facilitating the propaganda side of the operation was a tub of Greedhead suet named Karl Rove, who had a Dr. Goebbels-like affinity for The Big Lie and was satanically good at implementing it.
He kept it simple. "Use easily understood words and phrases that are soothing, such as "For the good of all" "Healthy Forests" "Common Sense" "Everyday, down to earth solutions for everyday down to earth people" "Non-elitists" and so on. (An elitist, for the record, was a poor citizen with an old back pack, well worn boots, patched tent and tired sleeping bag; total value of $175 at the Salvation Army thrift shop, who somehow, as an "elitist" was challenging the rights of a humble owner of a $200,000 motor home.)
Above all, according to Rove, advocate "Compromise." Most Americans are taught that compromise is a good thing that no one is totally right, that sharing is both good and necessary, and this is correct.
However, Karl Rove's and Gale Norton's version of "Compromise" is a Thieves' Bargain: A person accosts you with a pistol and says "your money or your life" A "compromise" has been made, you still have your life, but it is hardly fair. The Rove-Norton version of "Give us half of what you have and we'll negotiate the other half at a more convenient time" is no less bullying and crooked.
In addition, the Administration had two more tactics: Get your enemies to accept your rules of the game and that any changes of the rules will be made by you. Finally, demoralize your opponents. Make them feel that Administration land piracy is the Wave of the Future, that it is as "natural" and unstoppable as a volcanic eruption or a shift in tectonic plates.
Like the conventional Allied armies of 1940, the Environmental groups could not cope with the new tactics of the enemies.
They responded in their usual manner: Sending out vigorous denunciations of the Administration's action with petitions to Congress that the recipient was supposed to sign, and even, believe it or not, form letters to President Bush that were supposed to be signed by the indignant taxpayer! The farce of these letters was compounded by a begging note at the end, demanding money so they could continue the same futile tactics (and pay their directors near six figure salaries).
Needless to say, their appeals wound up unopened in the circular file of many recipients.
The conventional environmental group's efforts to influence the Media of Congress were equally unsuccessful. Their boards of Directors and professional experts were often top heavy with former Democratic Politicians and liberal to left wing scientists, whose findings were "prejudiced" (and whose youthful support for Che Guevara could be alluded to in blogs).
The Greedheads quite cleverly tapped into the broad streak of anti-intellectualism in American culture by trotting out some high school drop out who had overgrazed more "guvmint" land or chopped down more "guvmint" trees than any of them "impractical" fancy dan university professors and billing him as a "Man of the People." Ignorance was transformed into intelligence or "commonsense" in the best tradition of George Orwell.
Paul Hoffman, a small time, small town chamber of commerce apparatchik, was appointed as Assistant Secretary of the Interior for Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. He was photographed in cowboy togs at an angle that made him appear larger than John Wayne. He was supposed to be some sort of environmental guru whose "commonsense" wisdom would "reform" the "elitist" National Park Service and make it safe for industrial mechanized recreation and future privatization.
Like the Blitzkrieg of 1940, the Bush assault on the Environment seemed unstoppable. ("We are the Borg. Resistance is Futile. Prepare to be assimilated" in more modern terms.)
Then along came the Incredibles.
A handful of former NPS superintendents, Bill Wade, Rob Arnburger, Rick Smith, Art Allen and a few others decided to fight back. They formed an organization of retired NPS professionals who were beyond the reach of political retaliation.
The name of the organization was blandly self descriptive: The Coalition of Retired National Park Service Employees. It sounded harmless enough; maybe a bunch of old geezers who had banded together to get a discount on car insurance or prescription drugs or some other senior citizen project.
This was not the case. The "Coalition's" mission was not to organize golf tournaments for oldsters, but rather to defeat the Bush Administration's attack on the integrity of the National Parks.
It would be a difficult, but not impossible assignment.
The position of the NPS and the Coalition was not unlike that of England in the summer of 1940. Germany was completely triumphant on land and could not be challenged by any conventional land military effort the British could mount. It would be some time before the Soviet Union and the United States entered the war.
The Premier, Winston Churchill, remembered his youthful days in the Boer war in which the Boer "Commandos" ran circles around and through the much larger British army. Churchill believed that such guerilla warfare could be replicated in Europe.
To this end, Churchill established the Special Operations Executive (SOE) whose job it would be "Set Europe Ablaze" with Commando raids, espionage, sabotage, parachuting agents and so on.
The actual physical accomplishments of the SOE were a bit more modest than Mr. Churchill envisioned, but the effect on Allied morale was enormous. Newsreel footage of grinning Commandos marching German P.0.W.s onto landing craft after a successful raid encouraged the British public and probably averted demands for a negotiated peace with Germany. Most of all, these early efforts of resistance in Norway and France showed that the Germans were not the irresistible Wave of the Future that their propagandists had proclaimed.
However, one problem with the SOE was that it was infiltrated to a degree by communists, whose motives were complex, if not suspect in later years.
This is not a problem with the Coalition of Retired National Park Service Employees. The vast majority of the Coalition are old time Conservatives, very much in the line of Theodore Roosevelt Bull Moose Republicans. (Though if you ask them their party affiliation, most will coyly claim "Independent." Like TR, many of them like to hunt (out side the parks, of course). Many endorse the Second Amendment, have no particular objection to the death penalty and support law enforcement. (Most of them have held Law Enforcement Commissions at one time or another and the idea of a liberal cop is a Hollywood myth.)
Over a thirty year work span, most have acquired passing skill in the hard nosed, hard handed trades of mountain rescue, fire fighting, horse wrangling, boat operations, law enforcement, wild critter management, wilderness medicine and the moral wherewithal to lead and teach others to do the same. They can, in short, out "good ol' boy" the "good ol' boys" and leave Paul Hoffman quivering in his cowboy costume.
The almost complete lack of Berkeley liberals among them is a Kevlar defense against the slings and arrows of outrageous Bush Administration hacks who would claim that the Coalition members are some kind of liberal fern feelers. Actually, there is a visceral dislike for liberal environmentalists among many of the Coalition. (Sometimes literally so, one member of the Coalition asked me not to bring up the subject of Edward Abbey as it made him physically ill!)
In addition, to their wilderness skills, the Coalition has a collective 12,000 years worth of experience in preventing hundreds of small town bullies like Hoffman in various "gateway" communities from parceling away the patrimony of the American people in favor of local cronies. This eminently qualifies them to lead the defense of the National Parks against the Big Town bullies of the Bush Administration.
So, how exactly, was the Coalition able to stop the Bush Administration's nefarious plans for the National Parks?
As Woody Allen once famously remarked "80% of any job is just showing up." The mere existence of a Coalition of determined park veterans of Yosemite granite integrity opposed to the machinations of the Bush Administration was and is important.
The simple existence of the SOE in 1940 was important as the damage inflected as German military and Gestapo had no idea where they would strike next, or the size of the organization.
Naturally, the Coalition does more than just exist. One of its most valuable contributions was to provide expertise in subject matter and also real time intelligence.
One of the great problems of environmental journalists is penetrating "The Green Curtain" of the land management agencies. Agency personnel, NPS included, are rather conservative by nature and reluctant to "squeal" on their agency -- especially to risk a career to benefit a journalist who may be perceived as a cynical mercenary. It takes a journalist a long time to cultivate a source higher than a disgruntled GS-5 seasonal.
All that has changed. Now the Christian Bureaucrat is not inferring that Coalition activists can obtain all the information they want by simply asking their friends within the NPS, but it certainly seems that way. All this is most disconcerting to the secretive Bush Administration.
The Coalition, through its sources, keeps an eye on the activities of political appointees such as former Director Fran Mainella and other environmental Quislings. The surveillance of the Manila woman was so effective that according to Bill Wade "We knew when she would go to the rest room." Indeed, the close monitoring of Mainella and her activities may have made her presence a liability to the Administration and led to the departure of the woman Wade referred to as "Probably the worst Director in the history of the NPS."
Journalists seeking sources other than official (Bush) NPS or Industrial tourism press releases now have another source in the Coalition.
Chuck "Rent a riot" Cushman, long time foe of the National Parks, often billed himself in his press releases as a descendant of a "National Park Service Family" who had been shocked, shocked, by the arrogance of the NPS and had seen the light and undergone conversion to free market Republicanism. Reporters, lazy, or pressed for a deadline, would accept this quarter truth. Actually, Chuck's father had worked as a seasonal ranger for a season or two at Yosemite and Chuck himself had been a Volunteer in the Park at the Wawona Living History Program at Yosemite. Hardly the "National Park Family" which implies long experience and permanent status (which I rather suspect was the impression Chuck wanted to convey).
Nowadays the discerning reporter need only to contact the Coalition to be put in touch with a retired park ranger or two who had observed Mr. Cushman close up and can offer yet another insight.
Paul Hoffman, the hapless Cody, Wyoming drugstore cowboy, tried to parlay his long association with Dick Cheney and other reactionaries into a bare faced attempt to change the emphasis of the 1916 NPS Organic Act from Preservation of the Parks to mechanized industrial recreation, and some say, the privatization of the parks.
Hoffman's Titanic ego ran full speed into the iceberg of 12,000 years of Coalition experience. Even the dimmest reporter could see the connection between the proposed changes and the Greedheads at the American Recreation Coalition. Thanks largely to the Coalition, Hoffman, like Mainella was soon declared redundant by the Administration.
Above all, the Coalition showed that it was possible to fight back and win; that the Administration was not a force of Nature like a lava flow or a hurricane, but simply a pack of self-interested Greedheads who could, should, and must be defeated.
From a journalist's standpoint, the Coalition members made salty good copy. In one interview (THUNDERBEAR #265) Bill Wade, the executive director, was asked about Secretary Gale Norton's controversial four "C's (Communication, Consultation, and Cooperation, in the service of Conservation), that all new GS-13's were expected to endorse. Wade growled "THE FOUR "C'S" ARE REALLY CONSPIRACY, COMPROMISE AND CONCEALMENT, ALL IN THE SERVICE OF COMMERCIALIZATION!"
Alas! Ms Norton soon rode off to join Mr. Hoffman and Ms Mainella in other pursuits.
So, at the end of the day, how effective is the Coalition of Retired National Park Service Employees?
"Very!" According to Scott Silver, who heads Wild Wilderness, a grass roots environmental organization and a long time, valiant foe of the privatization of America's public lands. (www.wildwilderness.org)
Silver is a left-liberal gadfly who is often critical of the Coalition and who conducts periodic verbal running gun fights with an exasperated (but patient) Bill Wade over strategy. Scott, however, allows "I'd suggest that the Coalition has clout to the extent that they are willing to defend moral positions. I know of no other Agency having a retiree group that is willing to do so."
Now can the Incredibles tip their Stetsons and ride slowly off into the Sunset, to a well deserved game of golf, secure in the knowledge that the citizens, plants, and animals of Ecologyville are safe from the depredations of the Bush Gang?
Well, no.
If you remember that interesting animated film THE INCREDIBLES, you will recall that the Evil Genius developed a weapon so clever that every time it was "defeated", it would reconstitute itself and confront The Incredibles with more sophisticated threats and be even more difficult to defeat.
The anti-environmental apple cart has simply had a wheel or two knocked off. They will be replaced and it will be back.
Looks like we're going to need the Coalition in town for the foreseeable future.
WORST PRESIDENT NATIONAL HISTORIC SITE
Now neighbors, it is never too early to start planning. In two short (or long) years, we will have to say farewell and adieu to the Bush Administration. (Unless of course, the Great Decider has his own plans for the Constitution and country to which we are not privy.)
The National Park Service as the Guardian, promulgator and interpreter of the Nation's history will be charged with the planning, preservation of the Bush legacy.
This will be complicated. Historical and budgetary questions must be asked.
The question is, can the NPS guarantee taxpayers that "Dubya" is the worst president in American history and can hold that position for the foreseeable future?
You see, the American people like superlatives in their National Parks and Monuments. We like extremes; the biggest, the tallest, the best or the worst.
For example, we don't commemorate just any flood; we commemorate our most deadly flood at Johnstown Flood National Historic Site. The Worst President Historic Site must commemorate a similar disaster.
This would be a remarkable achievement on the part of George Bush Junior as he would be running against such world class failures as Warren Harding and James Buchanan. As the duty of History is to record and instruct rather than praise or condemn, it is essential that the NPS obtain a definitive answer on whether "Dubya" is the Ultimate Loser.
THUNDERBEAR put that question to a respected retired NPS historical park planner: That is, Can George Bush Junior beat out such contenders as James Buchanan and Warren Harding as Worst President of the United States?
The Aged Sage responded: "Buchanan's claim to worst comes from pretending that disunion was not a problem and hoping it would go away -- leaving an inevitable disaster for his successor, Abraham Lincoln. Perhaps Bush's counterpart to this is pretending global warming is not real and hoping it will go away. Bush, however, clearly trumps Buchanan by deliberately creating unnecessary disasters in foreign policy and domestic comity.
We should also consider Warren G. Harding, but about all Harding did was to drink, play cards and screw the household help while his smarter cronies looted the public estate. Bush trumps Harding in two ways. Harding understood that he was not qualified to be President, whereas Bush thinks God chose him. (Handy, since the voters did not): and second, Harding at least got some fun out of the whiskey and women, while Bush has been stuck with what he thinks is a "good Christian."
Well, there you have it, neighbors! The voice of some 30 years of experience! When in doubt, ask a ranger!
We therefore can proceed at full speed in acquiring The Bush National Historic Site, a treasure for the American people!
The next question would be the geographical location of the Bush Site.
For reasons of economy, the NPS might consider a modern day version of Adams National Historic Site in Massachusetts, which celebrates our first political dynasty, the Adams Family. In the case of the Bush Dynasty, this would mean acquiring the Bush Compound at Kennebunkport, Maine. This acquisition would allow us to celebrate the Presidency of George Senior and George Junior, as well as the founder of the Dynasty, Prescott Bush.
It might be argued that the members of the Bush clan are still very much alive. That is true, but so are the primary members of the Carter family, which has not prevented us from having Jimmy Carter NHS. (Indeed, one of the charms of the Carter Site, is having Jimmy read the Service at the local Baptist church and perform other interpretive duties.) We should be able to get a guided tour through the compound on a daily or even twice daily basis with minimal interference from the Bush Clan.
Although the Kennebunkport Site is the preferred THUNDERBEAR location, NPS historians might prefer the Crawford Ranch for a really in-depth study of "Dubya" and his presidency (historical trivia question: "What, exactly, does "Dubya"s brand look like? It is, after all, a Texas ranch; it must have a brand!").
Finally, there is the haunting question of "Can the NPS really guarantee that "Dubya's" presidency will be the absolute, God-awful worst for the foreseeable future?"
Well, no. A quick look at the candidates of both parties in the very near future should disabuse us of that idea.
LIFE AMONG THE KIWIS
"I wonder why they drive on the left side?" My wife asked absently.
"It's a mental health program" I replied through gritted teeth. It was rush hour traffic in Wellington, the Capitol of New Zealand, a warren of one way streets and vertical hills, very much like San Francisco; possibly not the best time and place to relearn the driving habits of half a century.
"Mental health program?" Joan inquired.
"It prevents Alzheimer's Disease in aging American tourists" I said, swerving back into the left lane to avoid a head- on after making a right hand turn.
"WANKER!" Shouted the opposing driver. (I didn't know it at the time, but "wanker" is a Kiwi term of endearment for those who practice the Sin of Onan while driving an automobile.)
"No, I'm curious." said Joan, ever the anthropologist "I realize that the British drive on the left and this is a former British colony, but why do the British drive on the left and we drive on the right? Why doesn't everyone drive on the same side?
At the moment, that seemed to be an eminently sensible idea. I was concentrating with all the focus of Richard Petty Junior at the NASCAR finals. Why didn't some international body decide which side of the road the world should drive on? No other local "custom" has quite the immediate impact (sometimes literally) as the "correct" side of the road. One can after all, co-exist with metric measurements. A liter is a cup or so more than a quart, a meter is a bit more than a yard; multiply by 3 and toss on a few feet and you'll be close enough for government work. A kilometer is comfortably much less than a mile, so it is reassuring to see a distance sign and know that 50 km is not going to be nearly as hard to do as 50 miles. Temperatures are a bit more problematic; you really don't want to drink your coffee at 100 degree Celsius, even though it would be a bit tepid using our measurement.
Ah, but "correct" side of the road requires constant involvement and rapt attention!
"Remember!" said Joan cheerily "Drive left! Look right!"
"Drive left! Look right!" I repeated with all the fervor of a Moslem claiming "There is no God but God!" Matters were complicated by the understandable fact that all the steering wheel controls were reversed; thus Kiwi drivers were undoubtedly surprised that I was signaling turns by activating the windshield wipers. Joan had wisely vetoed my money saving plan to get a stick shift. "Left hand driving in a vertical city should be sufficient challenge for the moment" she observed sagely.
But why get a car in the first place? Is not New Zealand the backpacking/hiking capitol of the world? Are not the Kiwis one of the most environmentally conscious peoples of the world?
Well, yes, but you sort of have to get to the trailheads and get around the country. New Zealand has a remarkable resemblance to California in its love for, and dependency on, automobiles. While the Hummer and its British equivalent, the Range Rover, are regarded as a bit over the top and are pretty scarce on New Zealand roads, the Kiwis really do love their Japanese cars. Of course, it is a guilty love affair New Zealanders are just like Californians in their sunny belief that "Someday, yes, someday, we'll just have to put together a public transport system that will be fast reliable and cheap." Hopefully such a system will be up and running in time to transport the populace to the Second Coming of Christ.
This does not mean that there is no bus or rail transport. There definitely is an adequate bus system, not as good as Mexico's , but adequate for the purpose which is to transport backpackers, the young, the elderly retired, people with credit and cash flow problems and people for whom the State has reason to believe, possession of a driver's license would constitute a deadly weapon. In short, amiable, gregarious people with all the time in the world to get from point A to point B. However if for any reason you are in a hurry and want to cover distance in a reasonable amount of time and arrive at a destination at your convenience rather than someone else's then you had better get a car.
This is not difficult as New Zealand has a fully developed car culture. If you are in the country for just 3 or 4 weeks, you will probably want to rent a car.
On the other hand, if you are going to be in Kiwiland for more than 6 weeks, you probably want to buy or lease a car.
Buying or leasing will depend on how comfortable you are with buying and selling a car, particularly in a country that is not your own. Now there are some folks for whom such transactions are the most fun part of a day; others, myself included, regard buying or selling a car as not far removed from having root canals as a hobby,
However, daunting as it may seem, the government simplifies the process if you want to go the ownership route.
The New Zealand government encourages car ownership, particularly good car ownership. Each car must have a certificate of mechanical viability, much more stringent than anything in the U.S.
Thus there are no junkers on New Zealand roads, no mechanical versions of the Living Dead that you see on American roads. These rules mean that you can buy a pretty good used Japanese car for around $3,000 Kiwi and be assured that it will last through your stay in Kiwiland. Used cars are sold at car fairs which have a government licensed mechanic on hand, who will, for $100.00 examine your prospective purchase and provide you with a biblical prophecy on what is likely to fail on the car and when. With the Prophecy in hand, you conduct your final negotiation with the seller.
Joan and I elected for the more expensive route of leasing. The older you get, the less you like surprises and challenges. Suppose you buy a car and park it at a trailhead. Some of the village lads, needing beer or crack money, toss a rock though the windscreen to pop the trunk in the fond hope that you too might have a stash of dope or are transporting the family silver. Finding nothing, they elect to at least take the battery. You are now the proud owner of something you can't eat, drink, or drive, 20 kilometers from nowhere. If you lease the car from Smiling Al, you get on the cell phone and, a bit later, (OK, quite a bit later) Smiling Al (grin a bit forced) drives up in a replacement car. The peace of mind might be worth the cost.
Joan did the navigating, I did the driving; neither of us was quite sure who had the right of way in a rotary or roundabout or whatever they call a traffic circle. It seemed perilously long way, but Wellington is not really that big of a city and soon we were at our new home at 75 Salamanca Road, only a block from Victoria University, where Joan would be teaching.
It was a nice 4 story apartment house, built in 1929 of reinforced concrete and specially designed to resist earthquakes, which was a good idea as Wellington had a 4.5 that night, but we were so tired we slept through it.
The next day dawned bright and sunny on our five month stay in New Zealand.
So how big is New Zealand? Not as big as some folks think. It has been grandly described as "A country as big as California, but with only one eighth the population!"
This is only half true. At 269,000 square hectares, New Zealand is a bit larger than Oregon (251,419 sq ha) and a bit smaller than Arizona (295, 260 sq ha).
The population part is correct, though: at only 4, 127,000 Kiwis as compared to 36,132,147 Californians, or 5,939292 Arizonans, or the rest of us swarming, seething cauldron of 300 million gringos, the Kiwis are positively lonely out here in the South Pacific.
Not really, of course. Like their neighbor, Australia, New Zealand is one of the most highly urbanized countries on earth. Most New Zealanders live contentedly cheek by jowl in a few large cities Auckland 1,500,000, Wellington, 532,765, Christchurch 450,000, Rodney-North shore 289,000 and Dunedin 214,000.
If you do the mental arithmetic, you will see that there are not too many Kiwis left over to fit the sturdy rural myth that is so beloved and believed in by Kiwis and foreigners alike.
The truth is that Kiwis gravitate to metropolitan centers. Edward Abbey would not like this as he regarded cities as "human termitariums." (I believe Ed wanted us to be nomadic cattle herdsmen who had disinvented the plow.)
Actually, cities are a great place to stack and stash human beings while you are busy saving the environment. While New Zealanders are famous for their agriculture, they do cities even better. This is great, because compact, joyously livable cities will be the hope of the environment.
Wellington is one such city. The nation's capitol is a pleasant little gem that rests on the slopes of green hills that run down to a magnificent bowl shaped bay. It bears a superficial resemblance to San Francisco in having a maritime climate, steep hills, cable cars, a gold rush in its history, an active earthquake fault, and a cosmopolitan population with some 700 restaurants, most of them pretty good.
The nickname Wellington is "The Windy City". This is a bit like calling Phoenix "The Sunny City".
"The Roaring Gale City" would be more appropriate. I have never experienced wind conditions that were regarded as "normal" by normal people that in any other part of the world would be regarded as a natural disaster.
Shortly after arrival, Joan and I were invited on a hike by members of the Victoria University Faculty. The wind and rain were incredible. The Kiwis believe in stiff upper lip "tramping" as they call hiking. No complaints permitted. "There's no such thing as bad weather, just bad equipment etc.etc."
It was an exhausting hike, not so much the elevation gain, but rather the force of the wind. I found that when one tired, you could lean against the wind, an eerie experience!
It was a "Potluck tea" in which everyone brought a beverage, exotic food item and "sweets" The unflappable Kiwis managed to keep the entire food service and tea thermos on the picnic table without losing their sangfroid. Tea was poured (carefully lest it become horizontal) and scones served. The Kiwis gave no evidence that anything was a bit unusual or surreal at having a picnic under these conditions.
One of the professors had a wind speed indicator and began calculating the gusts.
"Jolly good, that one! He exclaimed happily "150 kilometers per hour!
My eyes were hurting from the wind pressure when I turned into it I did the calculation into Christian measurements JESUS H. CHRIST! I exclaimed "THAT'S 90 MILES AN HOUR! CATEGORY I HURRICANE STRENGTH! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE A PICNIC UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!
I realized immediately that I was coming across as a flappable Yank as it was obvious that we WERE having our tea under these conditions, so what could be the problem?
I quickly added that I had never picnicked under such exhilarating and invigorating conditions; and hoped to do it again, shortly. Our reputation was saved!
The wind was soon blessedly at our backs, pushing us along on the return leg, I saw how our Cro-Magnon ancestors got the idea for sails from the wind on their posteriors ("Arok! I gotta tell ya, this idea will replace the wheel!")
The reason for this wind is that New Zealand or a good portion of it is located in the "Roaring 40"s, that belt of latitude in the Southern oceans that is famously rough as there are no great continental land masses to dampen the force of the wind. When you throw in the Equinocal Gales, which occur in this part of the world at the beginning and end of winter, then you have a truly memorable force of nature.
The wind is almost always there in Wellington, sometimes a gentle breeze, but usually something to be noticed.
Unlike San Francisco, Wellington is neat and tidy, almost to a fault. A city ordinance forbids dogs in downtown Wellington. Wellington apparently also forbids deranged or deviant Kiwis. You don't see what in the US are euphemistically called "Street people" in Wellington. You can walk for block after block without being confronted by the end result of a lifetime of alcohol or drug abuse. Obviously, since the laws of human nature not have been repealed down under, there have to be some citizens who can't cope with the stress of being alive. Apparently, when a Kiwi starts lurching out of doorways, babbling obscenities, and being generally untidy, a Social Services van pulls up and he/she is whisked away to the Tidy Kiwi Reeducation Center.
This does not mean that New Zealanders are boring bible thumpers.
The drinking age is 18 and the Kiwis don't spare the hops or the grapes. Binge drinking among the young, particularly women, is a definite problem. Much of the violent crime is alcohol related, and there is a movement to raise the drinking age.
This is not the case with whoring. It is legal for a girl (or a guy for that matter) to be a prostitute if they are 18. Prostitution and brothel keeping were made legal in 2003.
Joan and I passed one building calling itself "The Bordello" in 8 inch tall letters. I thought this to be a rather gross name for what I assumed to be a trendy restaurant or nightclub. I assumed wrong. The building was exactly what the sign said it was.
The jury is still out, morality aside, on whether or not this is a good idea.
Although legalized prostitution may be more convenient for the police, international sex tourists and Kiwi gentlemen with poor powers of persuasion, having sex with 15 or 20 strangers a day may not be exactly the road to mental health for the young women.
"It's their choice!" is the classic rebuttal.
That is not exactly true. Studies have shown that many of these women were raped by their father or other male relative at an early age and that many are also dependent on some chemical to get them through the day. Thus in many cases, the customer is essentially taking advantage of a mentally traumatized person; what the law might refer to as a "weak vessel". It may be legal, but it is not very nice.
Speaking of Bible thumping, the Kiwi's don't do much of it. Christianity may not be entirely dying out, but it is certainly damped down. Christmas came and went with very little celebration and no discernable decoration. I suspect that Tokyo or Beijing does a better job of Christmas than any New Zealand city. It seems the most prominent "religions" in New Zealand are Rugby, Cricket and The Environment
Marriage also appears to be on the decline in New Zealand. It seems that fewer and fewer couples are seeking benefit of clergy. I discussed this with one young lady who had been living in sin with her Significant Other for three years. "I still want that white dress" she sighed nostalgically. When I ask why she didn't pursue the issue with her boyfriend, it seems that the lad's parents had never married and thus he saw no need of it. Indeed, unlike the US, marriage confers no unusual rights or protections.
Everyone has "partners" instead of a wife or husband. This is done so as not to offend the folks who are normally stoned to death in Saudi Arabia for having "partners."
At first with everyone introducing their "partner", I was tempted to ask what sort of business venture they were embarking on, but this was simply the kindly Kiwi way of not hurting anyone's feelings. The Kiwi image of themselves is someone who is kind, cheerful, useful and helpful. (It is somewhat like living among people who are striving for the Eagle Scout badge)
Above all, New Zealanders stress "fairness". One must wait one's turn in line and wait for your turn to talk (New Yorkers in NZ have a particularly rough time with these two!)
For a quick recon on things to see and do, we drove over the Tararua range on highway 2 up the east side of the North Island for a windshield tour of Te Urewera National Park, Lake Taupo, and Tongariro National Park.
We stayed the night in the sea resort of Napier, the World's Only Art Deco Town. Now I suspect that other towns throughout the world have Art Deco buildings, even probably more than Napier has, but Napier is the only town that brags about the somewhat depressing signature architecture of the Depression 1930's.
It is a classic case of "When given lemons make lemonade". Napier was almost leveled by a 7.9 earthquake in 1931 that killed 258 and was one of New Zealand's greatest natural disasters. Napier was rebuilt in the Art Deco style and now uses the style as a tourist attraction.
Next morning at breakfast at the Bakery Café we had the pleasure of meeting two genial Kiwi farmers who were tying into a heart stopping New Zealand farm breakfast of broad, thick bacon and all the eggs three hens could lay in a week.
Hearing our gringo accents, Trevor, the larger of the two, asked how we found New Zealand.
This is a frequently asked question for Americans, and so far I have resisted the temptation to say "Well, if you look at a map of the world, it is sort of katy-corner southeast of Australia."
This is really a double decker rhetorical question, as in (A) "Do you agree that New Zealand is the most beautiful country on earth?" and (B) Do you agree that Kiwis are kind, generous, and hospitable?" In the interest of Yank-Kiwi friendship, you should answer in the affirmative, and be able to trot out examples of beauty and heartwarming hospitality to satisfy your questioner. This should not be too difficult.
We agreed on the beauty of New Zealand and the kindness of its people, and introduced ourselves all around.
Trevor and Grahame were quite literally Kiwi farmers as they grew the brown, hairy, green fleshed fruit that most of the world knows as "Kiwi fruit".
Having met a couple of genuine New Zealand farmers, I was able to ask a question that had always puzzled me.
"How do you run an agricultural country without Mexicans?"
We had seen very little evidence of Mexicans or Central American Indians in New Zealand. We had passed by one of the colorful roadside shrines of crosses, plastic flowers and statues that indicates that a Mexican had been killed there is a traffic accident. At lunch in Greytown, we spotted an unmistakable Mayan face among the wait staff. Joan spoke to him in Spanish and a relieved torrent of Spanish flowed forth in return; as he was glad to speak to a compadre. He was originally from Honduras and was an accidental Kiwi. He had entered the U.S. and obtained a job at Disneyworld in Florida. There he met and fell in love with a Kiwi also working at Disneyworld. They married and she imported him into New Zealand. He allowed as how he was unaware of the existence of New Zealand when he started his long, dangerous trek across Mexico and the deserts to the U.S and destiny. Travel, as they say, is broadening. He is now very content, has just bought a house and he and spouse are busily producing Mayan Kiwis. Aside from that and a couple of Tex-Mex restaurants in Wellington, that was about all we saw, Hispanic-wise.
"How do we do it without Mexicans? Good question!' Laughed Grahame, the lanky one.
"Don't tell the United Nations, but we exploit the Maori!" said Trevor in a stage whisper.
"Actually, we have two main sources of labor, domestic student labor and foreigners on work holidays. They're usually students or graduates, doing the 'round the world thing. So far, this does the trick!"
Now neighbors, when you think about it, the Kiwi solution is positively brilliant! It solves a labor shortage without creating a permanent underclass! A working holiday! How fun!
Why haven't we Yanks thought of that! A working holiday! George Bush should immediately confer with NPS Director Mary Bomar. Tourist visas would be issued to Mexican Holiday workers, along with those National Park Passport books. The Holiday Maker would be required as part of his/her holiday to visit ten national parks a year in addition to doing all the work that you and I don't want to do (fruit picking, construction, house cleaning, and so on) Every time he/she visited a national park, the holiday maker would get his NPS passport stamped. After they had visited all the National Parks and gotten all the stamps, they would be deported. This would solve both the shortage of labor AND declining visitation in the National Parks! Brilliant!
Wouldn't work in the US? Possibly not, neighbors, but it does seem to work in New Zealand.
Indeed, there can be no greater satisfaction in doing hard, hot, low paying work than the sheer joy of knowing that shortly you will not have to do it anymore.
A Kiwi college kid, picking wine grapes on a vineyard near Martinsbourough has the satisfaction of knowing that in a few years he will have his law degree and be able to afford the vintage wine made from the grapes he/she is picking.
Compare and contrast that with the guy picking grapes in the Central Valley of California. Being a lawyer or doctor is not in the cards for him. He will be picking grapes the rest of his life unless he gets "lucky" and lands a construction job.
The Kiwis arrange their labor much, much better than we do.
Grahame asked if we had encountered any anti-American sentiment. I replied that it was a bit early in the game, but everyone had been friendly and helpful.
Trevor allowed as how we would encounter some anti-Yank sentiment, but "not to take it personally", as it would be directed at your President and/or the destructive American life style and our inordinate contribution to global warming.
Indeed, a number of American friends have e mailed us asking "What do New Zealanders think of America and George Bush?"
The answer is "Not much."
I mean this quite literally. New Zealand is a very self contained, insular country. They are not interested overmuch in the rest of the world. To them, a world event (and one of great national debate) was whether the "All Blacks" (The national Rugby team )should have performed its "haka" (don't ask, it's too involved) in public at the Rugby championship meet in Wales. The death of President Ford was far overshadowed by the collapse of the mast on the Kiwi entry in the Sydney to Hobart sailboat race which injured five crewmen ("Blood drenched the cockpit!") We Yanks, the Center of God's Universe, are simply ignored in Kiwiland.
Trevor himself was distinctly pro-American, having married one of us, and having spent considerable time in the States on business.
As it soon became apparent, Trevor and Grahame were not country bumpkins. Like most successful farmers, they were international agro businessmen, attuned to world markets, and technology and the latest trends.
"Did you notice the fields as you came into Napier?" asked Grahame. I had, and noticed a strange thing; there was a six foot high cloth fence extending the length of every 6th row.
"Those are our Kiwi fields. The cloth fences are windbreaks. They are very expensive and putting them up and maintaining them is very labor intensive. The truth of the matter is that New Zealand may not be the best place to grow Kiwi fruit.
Coming from a Kiwi, this is quite shocking! Where else can you grow Kiwi fruit?
Actually, quite a few places.
Italy, surprisingly enough, leads the world in Kiwi fruit production, with California not far behind.
Kiwi fruit are not even native to New Zealand, though if exotic sheep are the animal symbol of New Zealand, then the exotic Chinese Gooseberries or Kiwi fruit is the signature fruit of New Zealand.
Grahame and Trevor had spent considerable time and effort at searching the world for the best place to grow Kiwi Fruit. The obvious place would be the place of origin, Southwest China, but due to land ownership problems and even climatic problems; South China did not seem to be the answer. (Oddly enough, California's Monterrey Pine and Monterrey Cypress do much better in New Zealand than in California.
After a global search for the Kiwi fruit garden of Eden, Grahame and Trevor found their Nirvana in of, all places, central Alabama, With a combination of the right climate, soils, cheap land and cheap American (or rather Mexican) labor, they found that the heart of Dixie was just the ticket. They had bought land in Alabama and would soon begin planting.
"Will you export Kiwi fruit to New Zealand? I asked.
"That will be a distinct possibility! Laughed Trevor.
A HEADQUARTERS ON THE MALL
The question has been raised as to what, exactly, can Mary Bomar accomplish as Director of the National Park Service in the two short years before the 2008 presidential election?
Actually, as pointed out in issue #270, Ms Bomar has a comfortable ten years in which to accomplish her goals as the Democrats, being Democrats, can be counted upon to field a candidate who is unelectable.
Even given a worst case scenario, a two year term, there are many things Mary can accomplish.
One of them would be the acquisition of a permanent home for the National Park Service. This is something that none of the Uber Directors of the NPS; Steven Mather, Horace Albright, or George Hartzog, had been able to accomplish. This would be quite an achievement; a feather in her Stetson, so to speak.
Granted that a home for the NPS does not have quite the urgency of a homeland for the Palestinians or the Kurds, it is still important. If you have your own digs in Washington, DC, people tend to notice you particularly if you make an effort to stand out.
At present, the NPS is a likable agency located at an unlikable address.
Unlikable address?
Well yes, neighbors. You see the NPS shares part of a building at 12th and "I" streets NW, with one of the more paranoid Department of Homeland Security agencies; the kind that wake up in the morning, narrow their eyes grimly and say "Today's the Day they're coming to get us, Maude!".
That agency's fears may be well founded, but the friendly old National Park Service is dragged along on the Paranoia Trail to the extent that it is very, very difficult to access the Washington Offices of the NPS unless you have "clear and specific business with a staff member who knows you are coming." A simple interest in and curiosity about national parks is not sufficient even if one is a taxpayer.
Compare and contrast this situation with that of the Congressional Office buildings where, if one is sober and reasonably presentable, one can wander about all day long, nodding pleasantly to Barack Obama, John McCain, or Nancy Pelosi.
The reason for this access is that the congressionals are politicians not bureaucrats. Meeting and greeting their constituents is the life blood of political existence for these naturally extroverted and gregarious people.
Indeed, if it ever got nosed about that a politicians' constituents could not at least visit the Washington office of their congressperson because that Congressperson was doing something "secret", that Congressperson would soon be out of office on his/her "secret" ear.
We bureaucrats, on the other hand, sort of relish secrecy and security. It makes us feel important. The security rigmarole deters the average taxpayer from bothering us and on a practical level, the more paranoid the security, the less likely a street person is likely to slip into the building and steal your purse or rifle your desk while you are on coffee break. There are advantages to paranoia.
I suspect that if you were to ask the present denizens of WASO at 12th& "I" if they would like less paranoia and greater public access, they would vote overwhelmingly for paranoia.
This would be unfortunate.
Why? Because Karl Rove and Grover Norquest believe that it would be nice if the American public ended their love affair with the National Parks and the National Park Service: the better to privatize it.
One of the best ways for that to happen is to have the National Parks become very expensive and for the staff of the National Park Service to become remote, invisible and inaccessible to the American people. The environmental gadfly, Edward Abbey once observed that "The National Parks are one of the very few nice things that a remote and suspicious government actually does for its people"
Karl and Grover do not like that concept.
Karl and Grover would very much like to see the NPS regarded by the American people as a "remote and suspicious" agency, not worthy of funding.
One way to stop Karl and Grover is to make the Washington headquarters of the National Park Service an international tourist attraction.
The Washington headquarters a TOURIST attraction! What a terrible idea!
J. Edgar Hoover didn't think so.
Now neighbors, at first glance one would think that the national headquarters of the FBI would be the most secure and heavily fortified buildings in Washington.
Not at all! You see J. Edgar Hoover might have been a devious old scoundrel, but he was also one of the greatest bureaucratic showman and impresarios in the history of the federal government. He wanted his agency to be admired (and well funded) by the American people. He wanted every kid to become a junior G-Man! How to do this? Showmanship! Interpretation! The stuff that the NPS is supposed to be good at!
The public, particularly impressionable kids are invited to come visit the FBI building, See an FBI agent fire a submachine gun! View the crime lab and watch forensic technicians solve baffling crimes with microscopic evidence! See how fingerprints are matched. Hear the FBI version of how they eliminated John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd and other threats to public safety.
Compare and contrast the tourist oriented J. Edgar Hoover Building with the paranoid CIA headquarters, The George Bush Center for Intelligence (Now THERE'S an oxymoron!) The Bush Center is located in a remote, densely forested area accessed by a winding road. If you have the temerity to take this winding road, you will be met by an armed response and turned around. Needless to say, there is no CIA visitor center.
Now it might be just coincidence, but who has the better public image, the showman-like FBI or the secretive CIA?
You would be correct if you had selected the FBI, which always ranks right up there in the popularity polls along with the Coast Guard and the National Park Service as "America's most trusted agency."
Like the FBI building, the proposed NPS building would be interactive with the taxpaying public, demonstrating many of the interesting tasks that America's "most beloved and respected Agency " performs on a daily basis.
Now does this mean that Mary Bomar will have to do daily rappelling demonstrations from the roof of the building for the edification of tourists? (No, neighbors, J. Edgar delegated the daily demonstration of the Tommy gun to someone else.)
Interactive displays could instruct the visitor on planning a park, the logistics of search & rescue, the economics of exotic species eradication, choices to be made in fighting a wildfire, how to propose a national park and how to fund it, the politics of park creation, and a host of the everyday decisions park managers make on a local regional and national basis. (The general public does not realize that NPS rangers have more physical contact with dangerous criminals than do FBI agents, therefore firearms demonstrations and unarmed combat demos would certainly be justified.)
The building would have an auditorium for presentations and yes, a garden with benches and a campfire circle, where on occasion, the Director of the NPS or Division Chiefs could host campfire programs on park policy and answer questions.
Would Karl and Grover like this idea? Screw Karl and Grover and their likes and dislikes!
Now where should the NPS headquarters building be located?
Obviously, it would be in the District of Columbia and should be where the action is; that is, on the Mall or near Congress. (The General Services Administration would like to unload the partially abandoned St. Elizabeth's Mental Hospital, but that institution is located in a remote, somewhat dangerous part of the district, plus there are the rather sad connotations.)
Naturally, a new, purpose built structure would be more efficient, but it would probably cost more than renovating an existing, perhaps historic structure.
One historic structure that has been suggested for NPS headquarters is the South Interior Building, located on Constitution Avenue, not far from Main Interior Building...
Built in 1932 as the Public Health Building, it is a 3 story "E" shaped marble edifice, designed by the notable architect J.H. de Sibour. In those days, the Bureaucrat in charge had a great deal to say in the construction of a new headquarters building. In this case, it was the Surgeon General, Hugh S. Cummings. Dr. Cummings was something of a character who believed that central air conditioning was" deleterious to the health of employees exposed to it in a muggy, sub-tropical climate."
The money saved in protecting the employees from air conditioning was channeled into the construction of Dr. Cummings office, octagonal in shape, paneled in pecan wood, with parquet floor and marble fireplace. It was the largest office in DC, larger even than the Oval office in the White House. (Mary might prefer to house herself in a side office, modestly using this bureaucratic triumph for official functions.)
Public Health moved in in 1933 and all went swimmingly until the WWII came along and the building was requisitioned for use by the Combined Chiefs of Staff of the British and American Military. In these offices, the strategy for the Anglo-American War effort was thrashed out.
In addition, a top secret wooden story was added to the building. It housed the design team who did the engineering for the assembly of the atom bomb. (The components were developed at Los Alamos.)
In 1947, the war won, the Combined Chiefs disbanded and the building was given to the new Atomic Energy Commission. (The historic 4th floor was torn down, over the objections of some historians.) In 1958, the building became the home of the National Science Foundation.
In 1965, the building was transferred to the Department of Interior and became the home of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. In 1972, Indians took over the building and held it for seven days, with teepees pitched on the lawn and plenty of press coverage. They also broke into locked files and discovered all sorts of interesting things.
In 1977, the building became home to its present tenant, The Office of Surface Mining.
Will it be difficult to evict the Office of Surface Mining?
Probably not, as the Office of Surface Mining has something of an image problem.
You see, they are in charge of overseeing and "restoring" what is known as Mountain Top Removal Mining.
MTR is basically the disassembly and destruction of the Southern Appalachian Mountains.
Why?
Well, how about Money.
You see, God, or possibly The Great Bear, screwed up in providing energy resources in the Eastern US. Unlike the high plains of Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and the Dakotas, where bituminous coal lies in a nice thick layer, under a thin overburden, in flat, rather uninteresting, and easily reclaimed country, the Eastern coal lies between layers of sandstone in some of the most biologically diverse and beautiful mountain scenery in North America, the Southern Appalachians.
What's the most economical way of getting at the Appalachian coal? Well, you tear the tops off the mountains and pile everything that is not coal into the valleys, smothering creeks, and farms into one god-awful pile.
It is the unenviable task of the Office of Surface Mining to "oversee" the destruction of the Southern Appalachians and see that the mountains are "reclaimed."
Now neighbors "restoration" after Mountain top Removal mining is sort of like unfrying an egg.
In fact, the task is so difficult and the reality so severe, that the lads and lassies of the Office of Surface Mining decided to tell the truth and shame the devil.
They have produced one of the frankest home pages I have seen issued by a Federal Agency. Here are a few excerpts from the "Frequently asked questions" section). (As Dave Barry would say, I am not making this up!)
WHAT IS MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL MINING?
A. Mountaintop removal mining is mining where the land is not returned to its original contour to achieve conditions following mining equal or better than pre-mining use.WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS OF MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL COMPARED TO DEEP MINING?' A. The Office of Surface Mining doesn't have information comparing the two mining techniques. For information on mining economics, we suggest you direct your questions to a mining company or a mining association.
ARE THE BENEFITS OF MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL MINING WORTH THE IMPACT ON THE ENVIRONMENT? A. While that is certainly a valid question for debate, it doesn't fall within the office of Surface Mining's ability to address. Congress considered the issue in 1977 and expressed the nation's policy then by enacting the Surface Mining Act. The Office of Surface Mining is charged by Congress through the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act, section 102, with overseeing state regulation of surface mining and reclamation to balance protection with providing coal for the nation's energy needs.
UNDERGROUND COAL MINING SEEMS TO HAVE LESS ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT THAN MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL MINING, SO WHY ISN'T IT BEING USED INSTEAD? A. The decision to mine a particular coal deposit and the technique by which it is mined are made by those who have acquired the right to mine the coal. The Office of Surface Mining doesn't govern these rights or decisions on mining methods, provided that the mining be conducted in compliance with the Congressional mandates in the Surface Mining Reclamation Act and the implementing regulations. This question is best answered by the mining industry or mining association.
Well now, neighbors, while it may look like the Office of Surface Mining is doing the Pontius Pilate routine of washing its hands of any responsibility, there are some mitigating factors. First of all, the Office of Surface Mining has been under the gimlet eye of J.Steven Griles, who has not exactly sounded the tocsin for environmentally sound energy extraction. The 600 or so employees of the Office have done the best they can under an almost impossible mandate (re: the fried egg analogy) and some land HAS actually been reclaimed, albeit in the more level parts of the nation.
Due to the practices of the Greedhead industry that the Office of Surface Mining is forced to serve, the Office of Surface Mining has a bit of an image problem.
Photos of areas subjected to Mountaintop Removal Mining resemble photos sent back to NASA by the Mars Rover. There is nothing on earth that looks quite so desolate.
Since the Office of Surface Mining is not exactly the Mother Teresa of environmental agencies, it could raise few valid objections to an office swap with the NPS, The OSM would have a secure, well fortified location free of the public or prying reporters.
The NPS would acquire a magnificent historic structure located on the Mall and easily accessible to the public.
The Director of the National Park Service need only murmur to the new chairperson of the House subcommittee on the Interior that such a move might be in the interests of both agencies for it to happen.
Naturally, Karl Rove, jowls shaking, would rise to demand "Do you know how much it would cost to move two federal agencies?"
Well, yes, you fat anal aperture, it would cost about three minutes of the Iraq War.
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
Readers of TB # 270 will recall that last June, God or the National Park Service (take your pick) nearly killed President Bush. You will remember that a historic American elm in front of the White House suddenly crashed down on the driveway. Had anyone been standing there, they would have been killed instantly.
Your choice of culprits, God or the NPS, is important, neighbors. America is a famously litigious society; we will sue at the drop of a tree; it is our modern form of dueling.
THUNDERBEAR noted that one Western park's 500 + year old trees had decided to call it a day and toppled over. Normally, this is not a problem. "Does a falling tree make a sound if there is no one to hear it?" goes the famous Zen question. The answer is "Yes!" if there is a lawyer within 500 miles!
It seems that the tree fell late at night across one of the park roads. A logging truck happened along and ran into the tree. The driver was not injured but the logging truck was destroyed (A bit of ironic Karma there, neighbors!)
Naturally, the owners of the logging truck are suing the NPS because we negligently let one of "our" trees fall across the road.
Now friends, one need not be entirely paranoid to consider the possibility of lawsuits, successful or not, as a means of defunding a government agency to the point where it may be conveniently "drowned in the bathtub" to use Grover Norquist's felicitous phrase. The method is not quite as swift and efficient as inadequate funding, but it does have the heartwarming advantage of providing incidental loot.
Can such a fate be avoided?
Yes it can! Fortunately, we have a Faith based administration in Washington. The answer, therefore, is a Faith based Safety Program. That is, Mary Bomar would announce that she was ceding all the NPS rocks, trees, waterfalls, lakes, lightning, snow, ice, bears, poison ivy, cougars, ticks, wind, and all the rest of God's stuff back to God. The NPS would be responsible for the stuff that we built, such as roads, trails and non historic buildings. If you have any problems with God's stuff, then you talk to God about it, not us.
In keeping with a Faith based Adminstration, Ms Bomar would reassert the wide spread American belief that lawyers are Agents of the Devil and are not to be allowed into National Parks, which by definition, are samples of paradise.
That should solve most of the litigation problems in the National Parks.