Phoenix Gazette (PG) - SUNDAY, August 14, 1994
By: ALEXANDER COCKBURN / Creators Syndicate
Edition: Final Section: Editorial/Opinion Page: G2
The fires that have been devouring forests from Colorado to the Pacific Northwest this summer coincide with the 50th birthday of Smokey the Bear.
The Forest Service's famous mascot with his ursine injunction "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires" has been a public-relations triumph but a biological disaster.
The timber companies pushed the Forest Service - and thus Smokey - into big-time fire suppression half a century ago because they didn't want their standing assets - trees - to go up in flames. The result is that we now have over-fueled forests that periodically erupt in lethal infernos.
Long before Smokey ever raised his priggish paw, these forests knew a history of burning and intentional manipulation through fire. American Indians were expert at it.
The Forest Service's fire-suppression program - a big subsidy to the timber industry - promulgated the idea that forest fires are bad. They're not. Many western species such as ponderosa pine are dependent on fire for germination of their seeds.
Suppress the fires, and the ponderosa get out-competed by trees such as spruce, which are far more susceptible to insects and disease. Net result: dying forests, as on the eastern slopes of the Cascades, overstocked with fuel and waiting for the first lightning strike or faulty muffler to set them off.
Forests do well with intermittent small fires, which have a cleansing effect and create patches of different-age forests, enhancing diversity of habitat. Such fires also clear out pests and brush and make nutrients available. The big blazes that result from long-term fire suppression have the reverse effect, consuming everything and reducing diversity.
Having successfully endangered the forests' long-term health by zealous fire suppression, the Forest Service then kills off the stricken patient with what are called "salvage sales," putting logging roads into roadless areas and hauling out the post-fire timber in the name of recuperation. Aside from the notorious uses of "salvage" to evade regulatory procedures, the trees that survive a fire, standing or downed, are the nutrient capital of the new forest. After the eruption of Mount Saint Helens in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest in Washington in 1980, the half that was subject to salvaging is coming back at a far slower rate than the half that was left alone.
The present bout of fires set the stage for a salvaging onslaught by the Forest Service, under its disappointing new chief, Jack Ward Thomas, a Clinton appointee. In the name of "ecosystem management," a good notion that can be perverted to any fell purpose, Thomas and his minions are now poised for the attack, using salvage as the excuse for their onslaught.
"From the crest of the Cascades to the crest of the Rockies, the whole western interior is going to be sacrificed to these ecosystem-management salvage sales," says Jeff St. Clair, editor of the Wild Forest Review, based in Portland, Ore. What we're talking about here are 10 million roadless acres of forest, salmon streams and grizzly habitat.
When Jack Ward Thomas was put in charge of the Forest Service, many environmentalists cheered, reckoning that Thomas' background as a biologist augured a more preservation-oriented approach.
But Thomas has moved swiftly against whistle blowers who raised the alarm about the Forest Service's sanctioning of over-logging and give-away sales.
Ominously, he's put the vast Columbia Basin in the hands of someone notorious for manipulating salvage-sale emergency provisions in order to enter roadless areas.
These onslaughts on what remain of authentic national forests are being resisted at two levels. In the front lines are demonstrators in such areas as Cove/Mallard, in the Nez Perce National Forest in Idaho, sitting down in front of the logging trucks.
And in the U.S. Congress, support is growing for the Northern Rockies Ecosystem Protection Act, sponsored by the Alliance for the Wild Rockies. This would permanently protect the remaining roadless areas in the northern Rockies, thus putting a stake through Smokey's heart not a second too soon.
Copyright © 1994, Phoenix Newspapers Inc.
Philadelphia Inquirer (PI) - SATURDAY August 13, 1994
By: ALEXANDER COCKBURN
Edition: FINAL Section: EDITORIAL Page: A07
Alexander Cockburn, a columnist for the Nation, lives in Eureka, Calif.
The fires that have been devouring forests from Colorado to the Pacific Northwest coincide with the 50th birthday of Smokey the Bear.
The Forest Service's famous mascot with his ursine injunction "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires" has been a public-relations triumph but a biological disaster.
The timber companies pushed the Forest Service - and thus Smokey - into big-time fire suppression half a century ago because they didn't want their standing assets - trees - to go up in flames. The result is that we now have over-fueled forests that periodically erupt in lethal, catastrophic infernos. By fuel, I mean the dead trees, fallen limbs, and underbrush that would have been burned away by more frequent, but much smaller and less damaging, fires.
Long before Smokey ever raised his priggish paw, these forests knew a history of burning and intentional manipulation through fire. American Indians were expert at it.
The Forest Service's fire-suppression program - a big subsidy to the timber industry - promulgated the idea that forest fires are bad. They're not. Many western species such as ponderosa pine are dependent on fire for germination of their seeds.
Suppress the fires, and the ponderosa get out-competed by trees such as spruce, which are far more susceptible to insects and disease. Net result: dying forests, as on the eastern slopes of the Cascades, overstocked with fuel and waiting for the first lightning strike or faulty, sparking muffler to set them off.
Forests do well with intermittent small fires, which have a cleansing effect and create patches of different-age forests, enhancing diversity of habitat. Such fires also clear out pests and brush and make nutrients available. The big blazes that result from long-term fire suppression have the reverse effect, consuming everything and reducing diversity.
Having successfully endangered the forests' long-term health by zealous fire suppression, the Forest Service then kills off the stricken patient with what are called "salvage sales," putting logging roads into roadless areas and hauling out the post-fire timber in the name of recuperation.
Aside from the notorious uses of "salvage" to evade regulatory procedures, the trees that survive a fire, standing or downed, are the nutrient capital of the new forest. After the eruption of Mount Saint Helens in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest in Oregon in 1980, the half that was subject to salvaging is coming back at a far slower rate than the half that was left alone.
The present bout of fires set the stage for a salvaging onslaught by the Forest Service, under its disappointing new chief, Jack Ward Thomas, a Clinton appointee.
In the name of "ecosystem management," a good notion that can be perverted to any low purpose, Thomas and his minions are now poised for the attack, using salvage as the excuse for their onslaught.
"From the crest of the Cascades to the crest of the Rockies, the whole western interior is going to be sacrificed to these ecosystem-management salvage sales," says Jeff St. Clair, editor of the Wild Forest Review, a magazine based in Portland, Ore.
What we're talking about here are 10 million roadless acres of forest, salmon streams and grizzly habitat. And as St. Clair stresses, "the main excuse for unleashing one of the biggest chain-saw blitzes in the nation's history is 'forest health.' In other words, we must destroy the forest in order to save it."
When Jack Ward Thomas was put in charge of the Forest Service, many environmentalists cheered, reckoning that Thomas' background as a biologist augured a more preservation-oriented approach.
But Thomas has moved swiftly against whistle blowers who raised the alarm about the Forest Service's sanctioning of over-logging and give-away sales.
Ominously, he's put the vast Columbia Basin in the hands of someone notorious for manipulating salvage-sale emergency provisions in order to enter roadless areas.
These onslaughts on what remain of authentic national forests are being resisted at two levels.
In the front lines are demonstrators in such areas as Cove/Mallard, in the Nez Perce National Forest in Idaho, sitting down in front of the logging trucks.
And in Congress, support is growing for the Northern Rockies Ecosystem Protection Act, sponsored by the Alliance for the Wild Rockies. This would permanently protect the remaining roadless areas in the northern Rockies, thus putting a stake through Smokey's heart not a second too soon.
Copyright © 1994 Philadelphia Newspapers Inc.
Cockburn, Alexander
New Statesman & Society, v7, n317, p14(2)
August 26, 1994
ABSTRACT: [...] The economic causes of the forest fires in the West are also discussed.
[...]
The fires that have been devouring forests from Colorado to the
Pacific north-west coincide with the 50th birthday of Smoky the Bear, whose
ursine countenance and forest ranger's hat is on billboards in every
national forest.
The Forest Service's famous mascot with his injunction "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires" has been a PR triumph but a biological disaster. Under the excuse of national security--defence of the Free World's trees--the timber companies pushed the Forest Service--and thus Smokey--into big-time fire suppression half a century ago because they didn't want their standing assets--trees--to go up in flames. The result is that we now have over-fuelled forests that periodically erupt in lethal infernos.
Long before Smokey ever raised his priggish paw, the history of these forests had been about burning and intentional manipulation through fire. American Indians were expert at it. The Forest Service's fire suppression programme--a big subsidy to the timber industry--promulgated the idea that forest fires are bad. They're not. Many western species such as ponderosa pine are dependent on fire for germination of their seeds.
Suppress the fires, and the ponderosa get out-competed by trees such as spruce, which are far more susceptible to insects and disease. Net result: dying forests, as on the eastern slopes of the Cascades in the Pacific north-west overstocked with fuel and waiting for the first lightning strike or faulty muffler to set them off.
Forests do well with intermittent small fires, which have a cleansing effect and create patches of different-age forests that enhance diversity of habitat. Such fires also clear out pests and brush, and make nutrients available. The big blazes that result from long-term fire suppression have the reverse effect, consuming everything and reducing diversity.
Having successfully endangered the forests' long-term health by zealous fire suppression, the Forest Service then kills off the stricken patient with what are called "salvage sales", putting logging roads into roadless areas and hauling out the post-fire timber in the name of recuperation.
Aside from the notorious uses of "salvage" to evade regulatory procedures and inhibitions on logging, the trees that survive a fire, standing or downed, are the nutrient capital of the new forest. After the eruption of Mount Saint Helens in the Gifford Pinchot national forest in Oregon in 1980, the half that was salvaged is coming back at a far slower rate than the half that was left alone.
The present bout of fires set the stage for a salvaging onslaught by the Forest Service, under its disappointing new chief, Jack Ward Thomas, a Clinton appointee. In the name of "ecosystem management", a good notion that can be perverted to any fell purpose, Thomas and his minions are now poised for the attack, using salvage as the excuse for their onslaught.
"From the crest of the Cascades to the crest of the Rockies, the whole western interior is going to be sacrificed to these ecosystem management salvage sales," says Jeff St Clair, editor of the Wild Forest Review, the invaluable monthly based in Portland, Oregon.
What we're talking about here are ten million roadless acres of forest, salmon streams and grizzly habitat. And as St Clair stresses: "The main excuse for unleashing one of the biggest chain-saw blitzes in the nation's history is 'forest health.' In other word, we must destroy the forest in order to save it."
When Jack Ward Thomas was made Forest Service chief, many environmentalists cheered, reckoning that Thomas's background as a biologist augured a more preservation-oriented approach. But Thomas has moved swiftly against whistle-blowers who raised the alarm about the Forest Service's sanctioning of over-logging and give-away sales. Ominously, he's put the vast Columbia basin in the north-west in the hands of a notorious manipulator of the salvage sale emergency provision in order to enter roadless areas.
These onslaughts on what remain of authentic national forests are being resisted at two levels. In the front lines are demonstrators in such areas as Cove/Mallard, in the Nez Perce national forest in Idaho, sitting down in front of the logging trucks. And in the US Congress support is growing for the Northern Rockies Ecosystem Protection Act, sponsored by the Alliance for the Wild Rockies. This would permanently protect the remaining roadless areas in the northern Rockies, thus putting a stake through Smokey's heart. And not a second too soon.
Copyright © 1994 Statesman and Nation Publishing Company Ltd. (UK)