Paper on Using A Cultural Values Lens as a Template for Environmental Planning and Management
Abstract
The Island of Rum stands as a type of “lightning rod” for environmental and conservation issues because of its history, ecology, and contemporary place in Scottish land management. Tensions are illustrated through a mixture of personal observation on the island during a weeklong residency, the Rum Management Plan, and environmental ethics and values texts. Rum is submitted as a potential template for effective ecological education and management decisions, in particular, in its use as a marker of cultural values.
The Island Nature Reserve Called Rum:
Tensions and Template
Dustin Kunkel
Introduction
The overall aim of managing the island can be summarised as: ‘to conserve and, where appropriate, enhance Rum’s outstanding natural and cultural heritage, whilst providing a demonstration of sustainable land use and facilitating compatible use of the island for study and enjoyment.’ (1998, p. 159).
The above words are taken from the summary within Rum: National Nature Reserve Management Plan 1998-2008 (R.N.N.R.M.P.), a document developed by Scottish Natural Heritage, the organisation responsible for managing the entire island of Rum. The management plan outlines four key areas that require attention within the management plan: Nature conservation, education, research, and recreation. Furthermore, it spells out, in over 200 pages, ten “ideal objectives” to bring these to fruition. I will explore tensions that arise from the interplay of the factors identified in the statement above through both personal observation on the island and pertinent texts [When not referenced, information is from my field notes that include observation and conversations]. It is notable that in the R.N.N.R.M.P., there is only a page dedicated to “interrelationships between features of interest” (177), despite the fact that my experience and observation shows this is where the greatest tensions and conflicts arise. We will revisit this issue in the conclusion.
As is stressed in recent literature (Heyd, 2005; Lautensach, 2005; McShane, 2004; Rohde, 2004; Ross, 2005), ethics and value judgements are in tension in many ways when people are making nature conservancy decisions. Tensions in nature conservancy decisions on Rum are not new, nor are they on the other islands of Northwest Scotland (Rohde, 2004; Slatterly, 2005). One Hundred years ago, Lord Bullough was making his own ecological choices involving introduced animals, plants, and artificial habitats (Love, 2002). Stated another way: the ecosystems, flora, and fauna of Rum no longer naturally select on their own but are dependant on the “selection” criterion that humans ascribe to them. This might even be the case worldwide, yet, issues on Rum are distilled into a potent mixture by the constricted boundaries of a government-managed island. My primary goal is to explore some values that under gird the tensions, recognising that outdoor educators need to be aware of our own values underneath the landscape (Higgins, 2000; Rohde, 2004; Slatterly, 2005). This will, in turn, inform my analysis of Rum as a template for ecological education and/or management -- with the caveat that templates are “made to be broken.”
Tensions In Four Areas
Area I. Nature Conservation
My week on the island gave me more than enough time to recognise the tensions that existed regarding nature conservation. Notes in my field journal recognise a number of discussions: a conversation with Josephine Pemberton, a long-time researcher into red deer on the island; conversations with our own lecturer; even an over-heard conversation between a student from our group and another research scientist who had recently been to two meetings on the island. It was interesting to find that the researchers did not seem to mind sharing their own opinions with university students. In fact, given the opportunity, it was something they seemed to want to do. Whatever the case may be, it became apparent through these conversations that there are many people with conflicting agendas taking part in the planning and management for the island of Rum.
The deer researcher shared her concerns with us in the hostel kitchen for approximately 30 minutes, often looking over her shoulder to deliberately check if anyone from her meeting group was passing by. It seemed rather comical to me until I understood that, to her, this was deadly serious. Years of her life were wrapped up in a project that was ultimately not in her control. She obviously felt she had opinions with which others did not agree. She was dependant upon the management group for the survival of her ongoing project. Her overall tone was mild apprehension. The other researcher sounded a different note: he was disgusted by the way the second meeting was run. He felt agendas were pushed. He seemed frustrated by the entire process.
In addition to human tensions, I have chosen three other areas. The first is the red deer research. As mentioned previously, the study has been ongoing for thirty years, and for the last twenty years the deer on the north quadrant have not been culled. In Dr. Pemberton’s words, they have reached “carrying capacity.” Her opinion was that the deer posed no real risk to vegetation since the females are “hefted” (i.e. territorial) within the north quadrant. However, on a walk at night around the east side of the island, in particular amongst the tree plantings around Bagh na h-Uamha, there was much evidence that deer had been eating the saplings. I and two other PGDip students were readily able to see the eaten branches even at night. The deer enclosure around this area is in disrepair, and the damage seemed more than what two or three wandering stags could do. Fundamentally, the issue is how to balance deer habitat with ongoing efforts to replant the island with a forest reminiscent of pre-sheep, pre-clearance days. Or, stated another way, ideal objective 2.2 is in conflict with ideal objective 3 (R.N.N.R.M.P., p. 159). The deeper issues are all too human: people who have conducted 30 years of research are vested in it on every level. Value questions that arise from these tensions include these: Who decides how this is balanced? What kind of research can only be done on red deer on this island? This might give one rationale for continued research.
The second area that I have chosen to highlight conservation tensions is the existence and habitat of the Manx Shearwaters who live in burrows high on the hillsides. Despite these being the only areas the birds are relatively safe from predators (my own experience being that they are, for lack of a better term, “sitting ducks” on land), there are many encroachments on their habitat. People are allowed on the island to walk and climb the hills at any time of year. There are rats on the island, and there is some question whether they are good for the shearwaters because they clean out their burrows, or bad for them because they might be predatory. Our lecturer made mention that there is evidence that numbers are in decline. What are the reasons? At the moment, no one knows.
The third area is one that I heard very little about. Whilst mentioning golden eagles, white-tailed sea eagles, red deer, seabird colonies, and common birds inhabiting the island; very few people mentioned the fish living within any of the multiple lakes on the island. What range of factors leads conservation managers, researchers, and policy-makers to overlook certain species or ecosystems? The answers to the questions raised in this section are not simple, nor are they easy to come by. Yet, putting a description to amorphous tensions could be a helpful step towards illuminating the next three areas of focus highlighted by the R.N.N.R.M.P.
Areas II. & III: Education & Recreation
There were two groups on the island being “formally educated.” There were also children, “stuck” in a schoolhouse on a warm, sunny day. S.N.H. has some signs up on the island giving short identifications to animals, as well as interpretive maps. The castle has a “reading room” with more educational information. Are hill walkers considered a group that needs “education?” Behind the scenes, our educational group was shunted into different rooms and pressed into sharing multiple spaces with other occupants of the castle and island. It seemed readily apparent this is more than a “first come first served” approach. Furthermore, the lab was in disrepair upon arrival and the community, itself, was ill-prepared to proactively support formal education. Overall, the effect seemed to be to allow “survival of the fittest” in this contest for the resources on Rum.
Who gets “first priority” in these matters? Hillwalkers up from the mainland? Students from the University? Is it a choice between formal and informal education, or is there potential for other options? Part of the ambiguity might be that underlying issues noted in the previous topic, “Nature Conservation,” have not been addressed clearly enough, leading to an even more confusing tangle in the human-focused areas of education and recreation.
Area IV. Research
These are simply my observations from a week in Rum. There are certainly unseen factors of which I am unaware. However, the conversation with Dr. Pemberton remains luminary: the issue—very simplistically--is framed as deciding between deer and the vegetation. It seems that “research,” the fourth area, is the debate hall for the other three areas (nature conservancy, education, recreation). As policy-makers and managers begin to debate what gets researched, many tensions are highlighted: The first is how the issues, themselves, are framed. Examples, besides deer vs. vegetation, include topics as “simple” as who gets priority in booking accommodation in the limited space? Or, who should be on the slopes of Hallival – hillwalkers, shearwaters, feral goats, red deer, rats, students watching shearwaters, or some or all of them?
Research: Ignored Topics
There is even greater tension if we admit the potential for ignored issues. For example, as a class, we studied the human history of the island up until the present. Yet, if the entire island is a nature and cultural reserve, why aren’t researchers studying human inhabitants of the island now? Where are the ethnographers on Rum? This is not as divergent a question as one might think. As Grove relates, the history of British colonial expansion is tied up with an environmental concern that pays attention to select or exotic species whilst simultaneously denigrating or destroying human and other “unnecessary” animal and plant populations (1995). We study the common birds, the stream life, the pond life. If there were a continuance of this cultural blind spot, as Grove suggests, then we might find “ecologically disenfranchised” organisms and/or ecosystems on Rum.
We know there are goats on the island, but we also know they are called “feral.” There are no researchers fighting for the rights of the goats, as Pemberton was so vehemently doing for the red deer. One might argue that the red deer are a different matter altogether, since they represent a gene pool that is unmixed as opposed to mainland deer, and “the Rum population might be required for re-establishing genetically pure stocks on the mainland” (Crowther, 2001). However, if our only argument for research and conservation is one of utility, then there are many species that could be removed without issue from the island.
A Cultural Lens
It is of interest that this issue of utility is presently disputed in both values and ethics journals on the environment. McShane claims that health must be measured, on some level, by what a hypothetical carer wants for the environment for its own sake (2004). Followed through, this argument might lead to the conclusion that red deer aren’t as important in Rum as some think they are. However, even deciding what is good for something for its own sake remains fraught with value judgements (Lautensach, 2005; Pepper, 1984). Ross claims that views, perspectives, filters, narratives, construals, and theories all function in the same way for ecologists -- as metaphors for perceiving (2005). Yet, environmental thinkers are embattled – at least philosophically – over which of these “metaphors” are more important. Kidner claims fictional forms (i.e. narratives and stories) will be more and more important in helping us make value judgements in a world “dominated by technological and economic viewpoints” (2005, p. 391).
Yet, his claims seem feeble in view that I found a distinct lack of such “fictional forms” in environmental and ecological journals I surveyed (for “technological and economic” examples, see Dodds, 2005 & Lautensach, 2005). Either they exist “underground” or they are rare.
Even more of a divide is found in the ongoing debate among environmentalists over issues of poverty and the environment/wilderness. Some believe there is a sharp division between the two, and if a choice must be made, it should be to preserve wilderness (Rolston,1996; Hardin, 1974). More recently, others challenge this view as a simplistic dichotomy, based in an elitist land-use ethic – remember Grove’s assertion? -- that ties poverty to population growth and misses, in its analyses, entire systems and holarchies that contribute to poverty and the degradation of the environment (Attfield, 1998; Brennan, 1998; Carter, 2004; Greenbaum, 2005). One might ask what this ongoing conflict has to do with Rum; after all, there are few permanent human residents on Rum. However, if we push past the swirling arguments, we find the vortex of this debate is how we view the landscape. Kidner was, in his own way, trying to put his finger on a critical issue: People involved in nature conservancy have inherited, at least in part, a cultural values lens for making decisions. In this sense, as Heyd claims, the conservation of natural heritage “is a fundamentally cultural matter” (2005). I suggest – at risk of sounding callow -- it might be important to research not only red deer and golden eagles, but also beer-swilling locals, brown rats, and the very process of managing the island, itself. [Of interest is the fact that the only research highlighted in the “statement of intent” (R.N.N.R.M.P., 1998, p. 6) is on the volcanic complex and the red deer].
There exists a historical example to develop this point regarding our cultural lens: Lord Bullough bought the island over a hundred years ago mainly as a sporting estate (Cameron, 1988; Love, 2002; SNH, 1998). His own inherited cultural perspective was that this piece of land was a place for him – the rich landowner -- to enjoy the popular pursuits of the “Great White Hunter.” He paid attention to deer, trout, planting trees (some non-native), and the strange menagerie he brought with him. Also, his castle. There are no accounts of any attention to the Manx Shearwaters. He valued some animals; the rest went unnoticed. His rubric for valuation was based on their use to him as a sportsman, or their exoticness. The same could be said about the rubric used for research choices on the island. Many of the researched animals could be seen as eccentric, or exotic, or of some kind of particular value to “science.” I suggest managers and institutions may not have come that far from Lord Bullough in underlying attitude, only switched animals and hired a more skilful labour pool. Remove the reams of data and competing loyalties over funding and research by the “skilled labourers” and what is left is the central issue in making decisions: a cultural valuation of the landscape that places great importance on certain species, habitats, and buildings whilst overlooking others. It seems as if the management group values -- for example -- replanting the forest, the white-tailed sea eagle, possibly the deer. Also, the castle.
Ironically, as I wrote this paper, HRH Prince Charles visited the Island for the purpose of giving money from his Phoenix Foundation to refurbish Kinloch Castle (“Royals,” 2006). I am not debating the merits or ethics of such a choice. That is not in the scope of this paper. Refurbishing Kinloch castle certainly falls within the R.N.N.R.M.P.’s statement of intent. Neither am I disparaging other theoretical models for balancing conservancy choices. I am trying, through a variety of personal observations and current literature, to point out nature conservancy decisions are not “made in a vacuum.” They can be clouded by the sheer weight of intentions, by the multitudinous demands from seemingly competing sectors. In the midst of these details, decisions may too easily rise from knee-jerk cultural reactions. Just because we no longer allow excessive killing of deer, and keep better lists of all the animals than the island’s former owner, doesn’t mean we left Victorian – or deeper cultural values – behind.
A Template for Education and Management
In summary, the point of this paper is simple, but not simplistic. Managers, researchers, and educators -- in the midst of tensions between competing issues -- might find it helpful to recognise choices can be value judgements from a particular cultural perspective. That is certainly the lesson I take from Rum as an educator – mainly because I believe it has traction anywhere on the globe. I do not think I’m belabouring the point. The sheer size of the statement of intent (Nine major elements identified as important in the R.N.N.R.M.P.) means that stating what may seem obvious, or “getting back to basics,” could be the most helpful “intent” of all. If we acknowledge we are operating from within a cultural lens, then two successive lines of action become important:
1. Defining exactly what this cultural perspective is, and,
2. Using it as an explicit lens in decision-making for the island.
In this way, at least, the reasons for choices – the “Why?” question -- in the four areas could be clearer. Regardless of whether or not people and organisations agree with them.
Take the following hypothetical case as an example: An educator on Rum shares with students that a list of ten animals and 5 habitats have been designated “culturally significant,” falling within the major cultural ecological values for the stewardship of the island. They proceed to study everything related to ecology, but they also study the “why?” question: why were these animals considered thus, and why are they being managed thus. They have conversations with researchers on the island who, instead of fighting for their particular niche, are able to elucidate the reasons – whether they agree or not -- for the decisions being made. Some might argue that the Rum: National Nature Reserve Management Plan 1998-2008 does exactly this. It spells out the variety of species, habitats, human players, and factors influencing management, and rests its action plan on nine elements in the statement of intent. However, it skirts the “why” issue by simply providing a list of the factors that make Rum special. This is critically helpful, but not complete.
We return to my observation at the start of this paper – a single page in the R.N.N.R.M.P. covers the interrelationships between the areas of intent. Yet, it is precisely the interrelationships between these areas that create the most tension in both management and education on the island. Rum could be a template for management and education in other parts of the world, not because of its many wonders or decades of research and conservancy, but because it pays explicit attention to the culture from which it comes. This would highlight what makes Rum special whilst validating decisions as culturally formed. Most importantly, it could provide a template for decision-makers and educators in other cultures who are wrestling similarly with how to balance seeming competing conservancy needs.
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