If a Plan is a Document, then Planning must be Writing

Well, its been a bit of a hiatus as I have been pretty busy working on a few projects. I doing so, I started thinking about what our plans actually represent.


If you ask planners, whether city planners, highway planners, or protected area planners, what is meant by plan and planning, you will probably receive as many definitions as there are individuals you ask. Many of the responses will likely focus on planning as the application of science and technical expertise to solving a problem—a definition derived from the early 20th century development of progressive thought in America. In the progressive era, many attempted to separate policy from implementation to reduce graft, corruption and undue influence of politics on problem solving. As a result, solutions were felt to be the domain of scientists and experts, people neutral or disinterested in the outcome of the solution.

This attempt to separate politics from planning gave rise to two fundamental illusions: (1) that problems were primarily technical rather than social and political in character; and (2) scientists and other experts were objective, unbiased and neutral investigators. The former illusion lead to planning being perceived as something totally within the domain of experts—people holding specialized, and often quantitatively derived knowledge, about the subject, whether it was urban development, highways or parks. Normal people, those impacted by plans, were implicitly assumed incapable of understanding the complex equations, technical language, and modeling inherent of many planning projects. Such normal people, could at most, provide some insights into society’s preferences, which were often ignored because the conflicted with the mathematical models planners used.

At the same time, the second illusion gave scientists in particular a pre-eminent and priviledged position in society. By definition, if one held the title of scientist or had the initials Ph. D. after their name, it was assumed that their statements were objective assessments of the situation. The general public was not aware that to become a scientist or hold a Ph.D., that certain paradigms and protocols must be followed. If one followed protocols different than what was suggested by the dominant paradigm, then it would be difficult to attain doctoral status. Thus, scientists, when it comes to indicating a preference for one action over another for a socially important problem are no more qualified than the general public. They are qualified, in their narrow range of specialty to model the relationship between causes and effects.

But the assumption of homogeneity of scientists on social problems is one that is frequently revealed in contested issues, where each side hires scientists to promote a particular perspective, to indicate the evidence suggests one course of action is “better” than another. An example of the lack of objectivity and assumption of homogeneity occurred in the now forgotten EIS for re-establishment of grizzly bears in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness lying astride the Montana-Idaho border. In the EIS process, a group of wildlife scientists became dissatisfied with the various alternatives being proposed and developed a “science” alternative, as if the other alternatives were not based in science. The science alternative made that assumption and the assumption that all scientists agree on this proposed set of actions. Finally, the presence of a science alternative broke all presumptions of neutrality, objectivity and disinterest and demonstrated that science is as vested and exclusive as other interests.

But plans fail, as noted policy analyst Aaron Wildavsky once argued, everywhere they are tried. And one reason for these failures is simply plans that were developed from an emphasis on writing versus an emphasis on understanding.

Well, what has this extensive diversion got to do with plans and planning? If a plan is a technical scientific document then it is written, and the writing becomes paramount. Now this approach to plans and planning dominated, and continues to do so, protected area stewardship in the 20th century. As such, plans reflect science and technical expertise, which are not necessarily consonant with social preferences. There are good and sound reasons for incorporating science and expertise into plans—science does provide useful knowledge, builds awareness of alternative pathways to the future, helps society evaluate which pathways may best suit its needs, and warns of hidden dangers of selecting one pathway or another. But science is not the only form of knowledge useful to society. Personal and social experience is another way of knowing, and often fills the many gaps left by scientific investigation. Spiritual beliefs are another way of knowing, and along with moral and ethical frameworks helps people make choices among competing alternatives.

A plan built solely by technicians and scientists will be devoid of these sources of knowledge yet provides an illusion that the information contained within them is objective and “true”. So planning is more than writing. It involves debate about the future and what it might be like; it involves close and intimate discussion how different futures might affect different people, how alternative pathways might affect varying groups, and which pathway best meets concerns about equity, equality and efficiency. Planning involves constructing a shared vision of the future, building the skills to navigate difficult pathways to that future, assembling the resources—human, natural, social—required for following that pathway, and erecting governance and institutional systems and structures to monitor progress, overcome unanticipated obstacles and pass on messages to the future. So this is what planning involves, and it’s a different question as to what a plan is.

Protected Areas and Dynamic Complexity

Our house remodel is almost done. We have redone the dining room, kitchen and family room as well as the deck outside. Its been a major project, but it has fixed up our long-ignored house. That process has reinforced the notion of dynamic complexity, a characteristic of many systems we deal with on a day to day basis.


An example: the countertop fabricator forgets to drill a hole in the countertop for a code-required vent, a small mistake indeed, one that involves only about 15 minutes of time out of several hundred hours of work involved in the remodel. However, that forgetfulness leads to the plumber not being able to finish his job under the sink, and as a result, the electrician cannot complete the wiring needed for the garbage disposal. So, rather than come out for just the completion of the garbage disposal, the electrician waits, meaning that other electrical needs go unfinished. This in turn leads to further delays in completion of other jobs.

While a house remodel may indeed represent a dynamically complex system, it’s at a scale we can easily relate to. But think about a protected area, potentially comprising tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of hectares, rivers, forests, grasslands, animals, birds, insects, mountains, valleys, cliffs, lakes and swamps. That system most likely includes visitors, in some cases, hundreds of thousands, roads, trails, perhaps visitor centers, accommodation, a restaurant, or several, bathrooms, water supplies, administrative facilities, sewage disposal and so on. Many protected areas may also have farmers, pastoralists, vendors and people living within them. These are indeed complex systems, and changes in any one of these attributes may have tremendous, and unpredictable impacts throughout the system.

My friend and colleague Charles Breen has argued that the complexity of the systems we deal with today have grow dramatically, and non-linearly, from what we had to deal with in the past—the growing interconnectedness represented by geopolitics, economic globalization, international travel, climate change. However, many of our solutions come from the past, solutions that were both socially acceptable and effective in solving problems. These solutions while once working are neither acceptable nor effective for the complexity we live in today. One of the challenges, Charles has noted, is that we may not be willing to tackle the complexity of today with solutions that are effective—that is as complexity grows, so must our willingness to engage it.

So, the simple solutions required in the past to address visitor problems, carrying capacity for example, simply are not going to be effective in a much more complex system, where the relationship between causes and effects, largely unknown, are not linearly related. And, the notion of “solutions” may not be appropriate. Solutions imply answers—but answers only come about if we (1) understand the question and (2) understand the system. Our systems are simply too complex in many cases for a complete understanding.

Perhaps what we come up with are resolutions—which is agreement—on how to address a particular issue. Agreements imply that things can change, indeed will in a complex system, so a problem, as Russell Ackoff argued, never stays solved. So perhaps we engage people with a diversity of backgrounds, expertise, interest and experience in developing the resolutions to complex protected area challenges.

What can we do to secure sustainable sources of funding for protected area stewardship?

In my last blog, I began by discussing the impossible expectations now being thrust on protected areas—they are growing in size and diversity. I ended up by suggesting that depending upon tourism to finance protected area stewardship was unrealistic on both philosophical and practical grounds. Expecting one use to support the stewardship of areas that provide a diversity of services and benefits leads to unrealistically high entrance and user fees, empowers one economic use and limits a sense of ownership of the citizens who ultimately benefit from protected areas.


In one sense, this issue can be partly resolved through more comprehensive programs of conservation that extend beyond the boundaries of protected areas. Broader conservation efforts lead to greater citizen involvement and awareness of the importance of conservation, more equitable access to ecosystem services and benefits and a higher quality of life. This all means that we decrease our reliance on protected areas as the source of ecosystem services and benefits.

Of course, this is a long term strategy. What can we do in the short term to develop sustainable financing mechanisms. Well, one way is for governments to market services and benefits that flow from protected areas. Such services as production of clean water, for example, could be sold in a marketplace so that those who benefit from this service would pay for it. By taxing transactions in the marketplace, governments could secure funding that would help pay for stewardship. This might work, but for a large number of protected areas, the flow of services and benefits might be too small to generate significant revenue.

Another mechanism might be to tax natural resource consumption—say wood, fiber, minerals—and to place the revenues in a trust or fund for stewardship purposes. Stewardship would emphasize conservation and use of renewable resource commodities, reducing pressures on protected areas.

A third mechanism might be to charge fees directly to users, but this would probably end up being a fee on tourism and visitation, as it is the most significant economic activity taking place within most protected areas. Another approach to taxing touristic activity would be to place a sales tax on certain purchases—lodging, food, transportation—near the protected area. Revenues would go to stewardship. In Montana, where I live, there is no statewide sales tax, but tourism dependent communities are allowed under state law to tax “luxury” items. The revenues from these taxes go to improve community infrastructure or to property tax relief.

A fourth mechanism is to fund management from the government’s general fund, monies raised from taxes, fees and duties. This is the way funding now occurs in many places, but changes in priorities have tended to reduce this funding source over time.

As I write this, it seems to me that there is no easy way, no silver bullet, no magic pill for sustainable funding of protected areas. Now, I am sure that thousands of reports, studies, queries and audits have been written about this issue. But they seem to have been ineffective, as we are still confronted with this issue? Why? Why can’t we come up with some good alternatives for sustainable funding? Is it a matter of our own creativity? Is it a matter of not understanding the consequences? Or is it a matter of political will?

Growing and diversifying expectations for protected areas: Are they too high?

If there is one trend that has typified the relationship between society and its protected areas it is the growing demands and broadening expectations for the services and benefits based on the natural capital preserved within them. Originally established on a foundation of scenery protection, recovery of wildlife populations and preservation of landscapes from human development, the world’s storehouse of parks and other similar areas have experienced diversifying demands:


• they have become sources of genetic resources, potentially providing useful and effective medicines for human health,

• they are increasingly recognized as buffers against climate change,

• poverty stricken areas increasingly view them as engines of economic development and as ways of enhancing their quality of life,

• they are to serve as models of democratic governance, and

• they should provide opportunities to learn about the natural world and our impact upon it.

This partial list is quite significant. But are we up to meeting these expectations? The diversification of expectations has grown rapidly, far outpacing our ability—in terms of technical aspects and in terms of institutions—to competently address them. Government budgets for protection are generally declining; in the U.S., agencies such as the Forest Service, have lost a lot of their staffs as the federal government has changed its priorities for funding. This loss of staff has reduced the agency’s capabilities to manage publicly administered lands for these growing purposes.

In response to diversifying and growing demands in combination with declining funding, agencies have increasingly turned to tourism as a method of financing management. Tourism is probably the dominant economic use of protected areas. Revenues from visitors, such as fees, charges and taxes, can become sources of revenue directed toward management. Indirect revenue from taxes and fees on visitor expenditures outside of protected areas can also contribute to management. For example, in the state of Montana in the U.S., a portion of the taxes on use of overnight accommodations regardless of their location goes to fund management of state parks and to the state Historical Society for maintenance of local signs.

Now, I believe tourism should pay its way: the increased costs of management of a protected area for visitation, particularly for recreational purposes, should be borne by those inducing those costs. But many agencies are looking for tourism to pay for all management costs. This orientation is problematic for several reasons.

First, protected areas are designed to benefit all of society, not just particular segments. When only segment finances the management for all of society two things happen: (1) that segment will exercise more and more power over management decisions; and (2) the remaining components of society may lose a sense of “ownership” or responsibility for the area. The second consequence is dangerous in the long run as it will eventually lead to, I fear, a disassociation of society and environmental protection.

Second, as fees are raised to generate revenue to cover management costs, those unable to pay cannot visit the park. This is not an unfounded fear. In South Africa, entrance fees (termed a “conservation fee) to Kruger National Park range up to $20 US per day for international visitors, and average about $5 US per day per person for South African citizens. This fee structure has a tremendous influence on visitation patterns: the vast majority of visitors to Kruger are international visitors who can afford the entrance fee. The revenues from tourism, including profits from accommodation and food pay for the entire management costs of Kruger.

A typical South African family of 5 would thus pay $25 per day for entrance into the park in comparison to the U.S. average of about $20 per week per vehicle.

Third, structuring fees so that visitors subsidize management reflects a philosophy that only individuals benefit from the protected areas not society as a whole. Yet, the fundamental purpose of protection is to ensure a continuing, sustainable flow of services and benefits is provided to society.

So, finding money is a big problem, and finding it in a way that does not conflict with the goals of protection is also a big problem, one that is value laden in character. What is needed is a framework to structure our thinking about how we can solve these problems. More on this later.

A Couple of Common Systems Underlying Protected Area Problems

Its been a couple of weeks since I have been able to post, as we have started on a significant remodel of our home. Basically, the family and dining rooms and kitchen have been gutted and will be replaced with a totally new design and interior. Our main outside deck is also being replaced. That work, and living upstairs has kept me occupied.


But last time, I spoke about systems thinking, and mentioned the idea of a ‘fixes that fail’ system. This is one of the systems that characterizes protected area planning and management. Basically, in a fixes that fails system, an action is implemented that has side effects occurring after a delay that were unintended. These side effects counterbalance the primary effect of the original “fix”. I had mentioned campsite closures in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness as an example, which is graphically represented here. Such closures, based on an event-oriented perspective, resulted in more impact, not less. Another example, is the long established Forest Service fire suppression policy. That policy viewed each naturally occurring fire as an event, and not part of a larger, and dynamic, ecosystem process. As a result, fire suppression led to accumulated fuels, which in a drought increased risk of fire and thus led to larger, more intense fires, just the opposite of what was intended. Now that policy has been changed, but the fact remains that it took nearly 75 years for the delay between fire suppression and fuel accumulation to be recognized.

Another common system plaguing protected areas is a ‘shifting the burden’ system. In this system, a problem has several potential solutions. Decision makers select a symptomatic solution because it appears to be effective and has an apparent time frame advantage over a more fundamental solution. Upon implementation, the solution turns out to have a number of unintended side effects, one of which is to solve only symptoms, not the problem itself. One could say that problem displacement represents a shifting the burden solution—see figure. Numerous examples of this occur in protected areas, such as limiting visitor use (one group or type of visitor always is discriminated against, and thus shoulders the burden).

The lesson here is understanding that there is a system underlying the problem that one sees. Knee jerk reactive management can make things worse or lead to consequences neither intended nor desired.

More on Systems Thinking and Protected Areas

A couple of weeks ago, I noted the importance of thinking differently about the challenges and opportunities confronting protected areas. I noted that we address many park and protected area problems in a way that suppresses them in one place, but results in them moving somewhere else. This problem displacement process may lead to problems being moved from one park, protected area or wilderness to another which has less capacity—financial, legal, technical—to deal with the problem. In essence, the problem has not been solved, only moved around, much like the children’s game of Whac a Mole that I mentioned a while back. In some cases, the problem is made worse when it is moved.


The Whac a Mole approach to management and planning represents a view of the world driven primarily by responding to events, without diving deeper to better understand what drives those problems. Understanding where problems come from, our paradigms of the world, the structures and processes that result from them means that we need to look first at our organization. I was involved a number of years ago in a workshop on wilderness character, specifically what the phrase “primitive and unconfined character” could mean. This phrase, as many of you know, identifies a principal characteristic of wilderness visitor experiences. During the workshop, we went through an exercise to determine what factors in the managerial, social and biophysical setting would serve to reduce opportunities for visitors to experience these characteristics—things such as high use densities, regulations on visitors, presence of incompatible uses. Nearly all of the factors identified were a function of management! The conclusion was that if federal wilderness management agencies wanted to improve the quality of visitor experiences, they first needed to look at what management actions and policies they employed.

Thus, we, as managers, academics, even activists, are often the source of problems, challenges, as well as important and innovative opportunities. But we will never be able to successfully address these with an event-driven approach, an approach that excludes self-critical examination, or approaches that put the burden on others without understanding the underlying system, the important elements of it, the reinforcing or balancing nature of the relationships between these elements or the delays between causes and effects.

This was graphically illustrated for me when I prepared a presentation for a regional wilderness management workshop several years ago. In that workshop illustrated the negative consequences of event-oriented thinking at the basis for a common backcountry management technique. Wilderness and backcountry managers are frequently confronted with unacceptable levels of biophysical impacts at campsites. A commonly used response is to close campsites. This is exactly the strategy Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness managers used during the 1970s to control impacts in the Big Creek Lake basin. After several years of monitoring, researchers found an increase in impacts rather than the decrease they expected. Why?

The increase resulted from new campsites created by visitors obeying the closure and by other visitors continuing to use the closed campsites. This process is known as a “fixes that fail” type of system-management actions that result in unanticipated consequences leading to exactly the opposite effect than intended. Fixes that fail typify much our action, and occur because we don’t understand the system that is functioning in the particular situation. They are often the result of good faith, but event-oriented responses.

So, to implement systems thinking, and improve the efficacy of our management, we need to think at larger scales, to avoid moving problems around and implementing actions that make the situation worse. We need start thinking about what is the system operating, about the holism and about integrating different disciplines and forms of knowledge.

We will take this up next week.

Is conservation entering a new era?

I had planned this week to discuss in additional depth application of systems thinking to protected area management. But planning is simply a set of actions we intend to implement given certain assumptions, often only implicit in our plans.


Late last week came news that the British Columbia government had suspended all potential mining activities in the Flathead River Basin north of the Canada-US border. The Flathead River serves as the western boundary of Glacier National Park, along with Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada a World Heritage Site and an early international peace park. The North Fork basin—which it is termed on the US side—is a remote region, contains stunning scenery, harbors populations of grizzly bear and wolf, and has exceedingly high water quality (see map). Mining—both hard rock minerals and coal—would potentially threaten water quality and the outstanding universal value of the Waterton-Glacier World Heritage Site according to a recent monitoring mission sponsored by UNESCOs World Heritage Committee. An article summarizing these actions can be found here: http://www.missoulian.com/news/local/article_c3255648-191a-11df-9f5e-001cc4c03286.html.

The British Columbia moratorium is significant on several fronts. First, it protects watersheds and values that lie primarily on the US side of the border, signifying an altruistic transboundary action. This action places the BC government firmly in the forefront of effective regional action to protect national and internationally recognized resources and values. The cost to the people of BC, in terms of lost jobs and tax revenues must be significant, while the benefits to people living in Montana will also be significant. Second, this action has now triggered protectionist legislation on the US side—both at the federal level (the feds manage much of the land in the North Fork watershed) and the state level, with the Montana’s governor Brian Schweitzer proposing limits and prohibitions on mining on state administered land in the watershed. So, rather than the action being led by the federal government, that level is now a follower, moving along only after it sees the popular support for the BC action. Third, these actions signify the need for action at all social-organizational scales. Only with such cooperative, coordinated and collaborative action can the values at risk in this watershed be sufficiently protected and maintained for the future.

These actions may represent a new era in large, landscape level conservation, at least in North America. This era will be characterized by citizen and locally led action followed by larger scale governments when they see that there are little political risks. Other precursors exist, most notably, the Steens Mountains in Oregon, where local citizens got together and proposed wilderness designation and other conservation land uses to help resolve some conflicts and protect the ranching culture during the Clinton administration.

Are there other regions in North America where these conditions exist? What implications might such actions hold for management once places are designated? Who pays the costs in terms of lost immediate revenue and jobs? To what extent are losses in these two areas viewed as legitimate concerns? What kind of oversight is needed once suspensions and moratoriums are implemented? These questions are important for those of us interested in management, but also for groups who are pressuring for similar actions.