Gotowa bibliografia na temat „Wilderness area users”

Protected area establishment can be a source of land-use conflicts. National parks are particularly prone to such conflicts as they tend to cover large, sometimes remote, areas, involve many stakeholders, and often constitute an important venue for both tourism and outdoor recreation. Identifying potential conflict issues at an early stage is crucial to prevent further escalation and preserve public support for conservation. This article presents the findings of a nation-wide survey focusing on the establishment of the Central Highland National Park (CHNP) in Iceland, with the aim of identifying such points of contention. The results show that while the establishment of the CHNP enjoys broad public support, concerns over access restrictions are the most common reason for opposition. The majority of respondents support limiting the number of visitors to the area, which can hardly be implemented without conflicting with public access rights, deeply embedded in local culture and uses. In this remote area, access facilitation through road and accommodation development, however, appears very divisive, either seen as providing increased opportunities for the general public to enjoy the area or as threatening the authenticity of travel experiences in a wilderness destination, and paving the way for further developments. It is argued that refraining from building up roads is the most diplomatic way to limit visitor numbers without seriously impairing travel freedom, therefore preserving the wilderness qualities of the area while meeting users’ expectations. Ultimately, this study highlights the importance of public opinion research and stakeholder consultation when planning and managing tourism and outdoor recreation in wilderness settings.

In this experiment, we operated within the novel research area of Informal Green Spaces (often called green wastelands), exploring emotional well-being with the employment of portable electroencephalography (EEG) devices. The apparatus (commercial EEG Muse headband) provided an opportunity to analyze states of calmness and alertness in n = 20 participants as they visited selected Informal Green Spaces in Warsaw, Poland. The article aims to test the hypothesis that passive recreation in Informal Green Spaces (IGSs) has a positive impact on emotional well-being and that there is a connection between the intensity of states of calmness and alertness and 1. the type of green space (IGS/GS), 2. the type of scenery and 3. the type of IGS. The preliminary experiment showed that there might be no substantial distinction in the users’ levels of emotional states when considering existing typologies. On the other hand, data-driven analysis suggests that there might be a connection between the state of alertness and some characteristics of specific areas. After carrying out the multivariate analyses of variance in the repeated measurement scheme and finding significant differences between oscillations in different areas, we conclude that there might be three possible sources of lower alertness and increased calmness in some areas. These are 1. the presence of “desirable” human intervention such as paths and urban furniture, 2. a lack of “undesirable” users and signs of their presence and 3. the presence of other “desirable” users.

Coordinating and managing teams searching for missing persons in wilderness areas is challenging. Local terrain characteristics and environmental conditions strongly influence how searchers accomplish their search tasks. When making decisions, searchers consult various maps of the area. In this paper we proposed a methodology for mapping characteristics of the area that influence user behavior when walking the area, and define a walkability model of the terrain. We define walkability as a measure of how fast a person can walk through terrain. The observed walking speed depends on factors such as the fitness and motivation of a person walking through the terrain, as well as on assistive features and the configuration of the terrain. In our method, walkability is predicted only as a feature of terrain configuration. We used singular value decomposition (SVD) to transform datasets to extract latent features of the terrain and users from multiple Global Positioning System (GPS) trails. We define the walkability measure as a latent component of walking speed, which is a function of terrain features. Finally, we use a polynomial regression algorithm to build a model for predicting terrain walkability based on remote sensing imagery from the Sentinel-2 mission. The application of the proposed model is demonstrated in the Kozjak mountain region in the Republic of Croatia.

Like many other states in south-east USA, Alabama is blessed with a high percentage of natural areas. These areas support vital nature tourism and the outdoor recreation sector. This study was undertaken at the Bankhead National Forest (BNF) and Sipsey Wilderness Area (SWA), significant hubs for outdoor recreation in northwestern Alabama. The goal of this study was to collect baseline information that could be used to develop tools and strategies for increasing the diversity of users participating in outdoor recreation at BNF/SWA. A pretested questionnaire was administered to visitors at eight outdoor recreation sites in the BNF/SWA. Adults encountered at study locations were invited, after their visit, to participate in the study. The study found that (a) the majority of visitors to the BNF/SWA were Caucasians and the least encountered race was African American; (b) the most common reason for visiting BNF/SWA was for family outings, whereas activities with friends or coworkers were the second most important reason for visiting; (c) hiking (39.6%), camping (29.1%), picnicking (23.3%), and horseback riding (22.5%) were the most popular outdoor recreation activities pursued by visitors. It was concluded that a study aimed at identifying the constraints which negatively impact the use of the BNF/SWA by minorities should be a critical step in the process of trying to diversify the BNF/SWA’s user base. Increased efforts must be made to identify the reasons for the low usage of the BNF/SWA by minorities.

Two years ago, Jon Christensen and Stamen Design began to explore social media generated every day in California parks, open spaces and natural areas, from city centers to wilderness areas. So far, they have gathered social media from more than half a million unique users of Instragram, Flickr, Twitter, and Foursquare who have shared content in one or more of the 11,826 parks in California. The project, like this photo essay, shows that parks are social—that is, people do things in parks that they do in the rest of their lives. They also show that diverse Californians will see people like themselves in parks they do. It is hoped that representing this diversity will encourage more California to use their national, state, and local parks.

Cultural heritage has become of great importance in a number of areas, including self-identity, community identity and as an economic sector through cultural tourism. Most definitions of heritage now accept that it is a perceptual construct with many meanings, both for those who identify and manage it and for those who consume it in various ways. Because heritage can be seen in many lights, the potential for conflict between users, managers and those who own heritage is high. This article examines the nature of heritage and heritage landscapes and discusses the many symbolic and economic benefits that can ensue; the changing nature of the markets for heritage is described. The various monetary and opportunity costs of heritage are discussed and the resultant conflicts outlined. The article goes on to examine the contradictions and conflicts inherent in the concept of authenticity and the issues involved in various modes of interpretation. Here the article asks that if heritage is accepted as that which ‘we’ wish to preserve, then who are ‘we’? This question is explored in the context of the impacts of tourism upon heritage in Southern New Zealand, including the impacts of recent development, perceptions of crowding and the nature of wilderness. Inter-cultural perceptions are explained through the differing perceptions of, and attitudes to, the natural world held by Maori and by others. The article concludes by noting that, while much heritage research is still based upon the product and its presentation, future studies will need to learn more on consumers, their attitudes , expectations and values.

Our culture abhors the world.Yet Quicksand is swallowing the duellists; the river is threatening the fighter: earth, waters and climate, the mute world, the voiceless things once placed as a decor surrounding the usual spectacles, all those things that never interested anyone, from now on thrust themselves brutally and without warning into our schemes and manoeuvres (Michel Serres, The Natural Contract, p 3). When Michel Serres describes culture's abhorrence of the world in the opening pages of The Natural Contract he draws our attention to the sidelining of nature in histories and theories that have sought to describe Western culture. As Serres argues, cultural histories are quite often built on the debates and struggles of humanity, which are largely held apart from their natural surroundings, as if on a stage, "purified of things" (3). But, as he is at pains to point out, human activity and conflict always take place within a natural milieu, a space of quicksand, swelling rivers, shifting earth, and atmospheric turbulence. Recently, via the potential for vast environmental change, what was once thought of as a staid “nature” has reasserted itself within culture. In this paper I explore how Serres’s positioning of nature can be understood amid new communication systems, which, via the apparent dematerialization of messages, seems to have further removed culture from nature. From here, I focus on a set of artworks that work against this division, reformulating the connection between information, a topic usually considered in relation to media and anthropic communication (and something about which Serres too has a great deal to say), and nature, an entity commonly considered beyond human contrivance. In particular, I explore how information visualisation and sonification has been used to give a new sense of materiality to the atmosphere, repotentialising the air as a natural and informational entity. The Natural Contract argues for the legal legitimacy of nature, a natural contract similar in standing to Rousseau’s social contract. Serres’ss book explores the history and notion of a “legal person”, arguing for a linking of the scientific view of the world and the legal visions of social life, where inert objects and living beings are considered within the same legal framework. As such The Natural Contract does not deal with ecology per-se, but instead focuses on an argument for the inclusion of nature within law (Serres, “A Return” 131). In a drastic reconfiguring of the subject/object relationship, Serres explains how the space that once existed as a backdrop for human endeavour now seems to thrust itself directly into history. "They (natural events) burst in on our culture, which had never formed anything but a local, vague, and cosmetic idea of them: nature" (Serres, The Natural Contract 3). In this movement, nature does not simply take on the role of a new object to be included within a world still dominated by human subjects. Instead, human beings are understood as intertwined with a global system of turbulence that is both manipulated by them and manipulates them. Taking my lead from Serres’s book, in this paper I begin to explore the disconnections and reconnections that have been established between information and the natural environment. While I acknowledge that there is nothing natural about the term “nature” (Harman 251), I use the term to designate an environment constituted by the systematic processes of the collection of entities that are neither human beings nor human crafted artefacts. As the formation of cultural systems becomes demarcated from these natural objects, the scene is set for the development of culturally mediated concepts such as “nature” and “wilderness,” as entities untouched and unspoilt by cultural process (Morton). On one side of the divide the complex of communication systems is situated, on the other is situated “nature”. The restructuring of information flows due to developments in electronic communication has ostensibly removed messages from the medium of nature. Media is now considered within its own ecology (see Fuller; Strate) quite separate from nature, except when it is developed as media content (see Cubitt; Murray; Heumann). A separation between the structures of media ecologies and the structures of natural ecologies has emerged over the history of electronic communication. For instance, since the synoptic media theory of McLuhan it has been generally acknowledged that the shift from script to print, from stone to parchment, and from the printing press to more recent developments such as the radio, telephone, television, and Web2.0, have fundamentally altered the structure and effects of human relationships. However, these developments – “the extensions of man” (McLuhan)— also changed the relationship between society and nature. Changes in communications technology have allowed people to remain dispersed, as ideas, in the form of electric currents or pulses of light travel vast distances and in diverse directions, with communication no longer requiring human movement across geographic space. Technologies such as the telegraph and the radio, with their ability to seemingly dematerialize the media of messages, reformulated the concept of communication into a “quasi-physical connection” across the obstacles of time and space (Clarke, “Communication” 132). Prior to this, the natural world itself was the medium through which information was passed. Rather than messages transmitted via wires, communication was associated with the transport of messages through the world via human movement, with the materiality of the medium measured in the time it took to cover geographic space. The flow of messages followed trade flows (Briggs and Burke 20). Messages moved along trails, on rail, over bridges, down canals, and along shipping channels, arriving at their destination as information. More recently however, information, due to its instantaneous distribution and multiplication across space, seems to have no need for nature as a medium. Nature has become merely a topic for information, as media content, rather than as something that takes part within the information system itself. The above example illustrates a separation between information exchange and the natural environment brought about by a set of technological developments. As Serres points out, the word “media” is etymologically related to the word “milieu”. Hence, a theory of media should be always related to an understanding of the environment (Crocker). But humans no longer need to physically move through the natural world to communicate, ideas can move freely from region to region, from air-conditioned room to air-conditioned room, relatively unimpeded by natural forces or geographic distance. For a long time now, information exchange has not necessitated human movement through the natural environment and this has consequences for how the formation of culture and its location in (or dislocation from) the natural world is viewed. A number of artists have begun questioning the separation between media and nature, particularly concerning the materiality of air, and using information to provide new points of contact between media and the atmosphere (for a discussion of the history of ecoart see Wallen). In Eclipse (2009) (fig. 1) for instance, an internet based work undertaken by the collective EcoArtTech, environmental sensing technology and online media is used experimentally to visualize air pollution. EcoArtTech is made up of the artist duo Cary Peppermint and Leila Nadir and since 2005 they have been inquiring into the relationship between digital technology and the natural environment, particularly regarding concepts such as “wilderness”. In Eclipse, EcoArtTech garner photographs of American national parks from social media and photo sharing sites. Air quality data gathered from the nearest capital city is then inputted into an algorithm that visibly distorts the image based on the levels of particle pollution detected in the atmosphere. The photographs that circulate on photo sharing sites such as Flickr—photographs that are usually rather banal in their adherence to a history of wilderness photography—are augmented by the environmental pollution circulating in nearby capital cities. Figure 1: EcoArtTech, Eclipse (detail of screenshot), 2009 (Internet-based work available at:http://turbulence.org/Works/eclipse/) The digital is often associated with the clean transmission of information, as packets of data move from a server, over fibre optic cables, to be unpacked and re-presented on a computer's screen. Likewise, the photographs displayed in Eclipse are quite often of an unspoilt nature, containing no errors in their exposure or focus (most probably because these wilderness photographs were taken with digital cameras). As the photographs are overlaid with information garnered from air quality levels, the “unspoilt” photograph is directly related to pollution in the natural environment. In Eclipse the background noise of “wilderness,” the pollution in the air, is reframed as foreground. “We breathe background noise…Background noise is the ground of our perception, absolutely uninterrupted, it is our perennial sustenance, the element of the software of all our logic” (Serres, Genesis 7). Noise is activated in Eclipse in a similar way to Serres’s description, as an indication of the wider milieu in which communication takes place (Crocker). Noise links the photograph and its transmission not only to the medium of the internet and the glitches that arise as information is circulated, but also to the air in the originally photographed location. In addition to noise, there are parallels between the original photographs of nature gleaned from photo sharing sites and Serres’s concept of a history that somehow stands itself apart from the effects of ongoing environmental processes. By compartmentalising the natural and cultural worlds, both the historiography that Serres argues against and the wilderness photograph produces a concept of nature that is somehow outside, behind, or above human activities and the associated matter of noise. Eclipse, by altering photographs using real-time data, puts the still image into contact with the processes and informational outputs of nature. Air quality sensors detect pollution in the atmosphere and code these atmospheric processes into computer readable information. The photograph is no longer static but is now open to continual recreation and degeneration, dependent on the coded value of the atmosphere in a given location. A similar materiality is given to air in a public work undertaken by Preemptive Media, titled Areas Immediate Reading (AIR) (fig. 2). In this project, Preemptive Media, made up of Beatriz da Costa, Jamie Schulte and Brooke Singer, equip participants with instruments for measuring air quality as they walked around New York City. The devices monitor the carbon monoxide (CO), nitrogen oxides (NOx) or ground level ozone (O3) levels that are being breathed in by the carrier. As Michael Dieter has pointed out in his reading of the work, the application of sensing technology by Preemptive Media is in distinct contrast to the conventional application of air quality monitoring, which usually takes the form of extremely high resolution located devices spread over great distances. These larger air monitoring networks tend to present the value garnered from a large expanse of the atmosphere that covers individual cities or states. The AIR project, in contrast, by using small mobile sensors, attempts to put people in informational contact with the air that they are breathing in their local and immediate time and place, and allows them to monitor the small parcels of atmosphere that surround other users in other locations (Dieter). It thus presents many small and mobile spheres of atmosphere, inhabited by individuals as they move through the city. In AIR we see the experimental application of an already developed technology in order to put people on the street in contact with the atmospheres that they are moving through. It gives a new informational form to the “vast but invisible ocean of air that surrounds us and permeates us” (Ihde 3), which in this case is given voice by a technological apparatus that converts the air into information. The atmosphere as information becomes less of a vague background and more of a measurable entity that ingresses into the lives and movements of human users. The air is conditioned by information; the turbulent and noisy atmosphere has been converted via technology into readable information (Connor 186-88). Figure 2: Preemptive Media, Areas Immediate Reading (AIR) (close up of device), 2011 Throughout his career Serres has developed a philosophy of information and communication that may help us to reframe the relationship between the natural and cultural worlds (see Brown). Conventionally, the natural world is understood as made up of energy and matter, with exchanges of energy and the flows of biomass through food webs binding ecosystems together (DeLanda 120-1). However, the tendencies and structures of natural systems, like cultural systems, are also dependent on the communication of information. It is here that Serres provides us with a way to view natural and cultural systems as connected by a flow of energy and information. He points out that in the wake of Claude Shannon’s famous Mathematical Theory of Communication it has been possible to consider the relationship between information and thermodynamics, at least in Shannon’s explanation of noise as entropy (Serres, Hermes74). For Serres, an ecosystem can be conceptualised as an informational and energetic system: “it receives, stores, exchanges, and gives off both energy and information in all forms, from the light of the sun to the flow of matter which passes through it (food, oxygen, heat, signals)” (Serres, Hermes 74). Just as we are related to the natural world based on flows of energy— as sunlight is converted into energy by plants, which we in turn convert into food— we are also bound together by flows of information. The task is to find new ways to sense this information, to actualise the information, and imagine nature as more than a welter of data and the air as more than background. If we think of information in broad ranging terms as “coded values of the output of a process” (Losee 254), then we see that information and the environment—as a setting that is produced by continual and energetic processes—are in constant contact. After all, humans sense information from the environment all the time; we constantly decode the coded values of environmental processes transmitted via the atmosphere. I smell a flower, I hear bird songs, and I see the red glow of a sunset. The process of the singing bird is coded as vibrations of air particles that knock against my ear drum. The flower is coded as molecules in the atmosphere enter my nose and bind to cilia. The red glow is coded as wavelengths from the sun are dispersed in the Earth’s atmosphere and arrive at my eye. Information, of course, does not actually exist as information until some observing system constructs it (Clarke, “Information” 157-159). This observing system as we see the sunset, hear the birds, or smell the flower involves the atmosphere as a medium, along with our sense organs and cognitive and non-cognitive processes. The molecules in the atmosphere exist independently of our sense of them, but they do not actualise as information until they are operationalised by the observational system. Prior to this, information can be thought of as noise circulating within the atmosphere. Heinz Von Foester, one of the key figures of cybernetics, states “The environment contains no information. The environment is as it is” (Von Foester in Clarke, “Information” 157). Information, in this model, actualises only when something in the world causes a change to the observational system, as a difference that makes a difference (Bateson 448-466). Air expelled from a bird’s lungs and out its beak causes air molecules to vibrate, introducing difference into the atmosphere, which is then picked up by my ear and registered as sound, informing me that a bird is nearby. One bird song is picked up as information amid the swirling noise of nature and a difference in the air makes a difference to the observational system. It may be useful to think of the purpose of information as to control action and that this is necessary “whenever the people concerned, controllers as well as controlled, belong to an organised social group whose collective purpose is to survive and prosper” (Scarrott 262). Information in this sense operates the organisation of groups. Using this definition rooted in cybernetics, we see that information allows groups, which are dependent on certain control structures based on the sending and receiving of messages through media, to thrive and defines the boundaries of these groups. We see this in a flock of birds, for instance, which forms based on the information that one bird garners from the movements of the other birds in proximity. Extrapolating from this, if we are to live included in an ecological system capable of survival, the transmission of information is vital. But the form of the information is also important. To communicate, for example, one entity first needs to recognise that the other is speaking and differentiate this information from the noise in the air. Following Clarke and Von Foester, an observing system needs to be operational. An art project that gives aesthetic form to environmental processes in this vein—and one that is particularly concerned with the co-agentive relation between humans and nature—is Reiko Goto and Tim Collin’s Plein Air (2010) (fig. 3), an element in their ongoing Eden 3 project. In this work a technological apparatus is wired to a tree. This apparatus, which references the box easels most famously used by the Impressionists to paint ‘en plein air’, uses sensing technology to detect the tree’s responses to the varying CO2 levels in the atmosphere. An algorithm then translates this into real time piano compositions. The tree’s biological processes are coded into the voice of a piano and sensed by listeners as aesthetic information. What is at stake in this work is a new understanding of atmospheres as a site for the exchange of information, and an attempt to resituate the interdependence of human and non-human entities within an experimental aesthetic system. As we breathe out carbon dioxide—both through our physiological process of breathing and our cultural processes of polluting—trees breath it in. By translating these biological processes into a musical form, Collins and Gotto’s work signals a movement from a process of atmospheric exchange to a digital process of sensing and coding, the output of which is then transmitted through the atmosphere as sound. It must be mentioned that within this movement from atmospheric gas to atmospheric music we are not listening to the tree alone. We are listening to a much more complex polyphony involving the components of the digital sensing technology, the tree, the gases in the atmosphere, and the biological (breathing) and cultural processes (cars, factories and coal fired power stations) that produce these gases. Figure 3: Reiko Goto and Tim Collins, Plein Air, 2010 As both Don Ihde and Steven Connor have pointed out, the air that we breathe is not neutral. It is, on the contrary, given its significance in technology, sound, and voice. Taking this further, we might understand sensing technology as conditioning the air with information. This type of air conditioning—as information alters the condition of air—occurs as technology picks up, detects, and makes sensible phenomena in the atmosphere. While communication media such as the telegraph and other electronic information distribution systems may have distanced information from nature, the sensing technology experimentally applied by EcoArtTech, Preeemptive Media, and Goto and Collins, may remind us of the materiality of air. These technologies allow us to connect to the atmosphere; they reformulate it, converting it to information, giving new form to the coded processes in nature.AcknowledgmentAll images reproduced with the kind permission of the artists. References Bateson, Gregory. Steps to an Ecology of Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972. Briggs, Asa, and Peter Burke. A Social History of the Media: From Gutenberg to the Internet. Maden: Polity Press, 2009. Brown, Steve. “Michel Serres: Science, Translation and the Logic of the Parasite.” Theory, Culture and Society 19.1 (2002): 1-27. Clarke, Bruce. “Communication.” Critical Terms for Media Studies. Eds. Mark B. N. Hansen and W. J. T. Mitchell. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010. 131-45 -----. “Information.” Critical Terms for Media Studies. Eds. Mark B. N. Hansen and W. J. T. Mitchell. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010. 157-71 Crocker, Stephen. “Noise and Exceptions: Pure Mediality in Serres and Agamben.” CTheory: 1000 Days of Theory. (2007). 7 June 2012 ‹http://www.ctheory.net/articles.aspx?id=574› Connor, Stephen. The Matter of Air: Science and the Art of the Etheral. London: Reaktion, 2010. Cubitt, Sean. EcoMedia. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2005 Deiter, Michael. “Processes, Issues, AIR: Toward Reticular Politics.” Australian Humanities Review 46 (2009). 9 June 2012 ‹http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-May-2009/dieter.htm› DeLanda, Manuel. Intensive Science and Virtual Philosophy. London and New York: Continuum, 2002. Fuller, Matthew. Media Ecologies: Materialist Energies in Art and Technoculture. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2005 Harman, Graham. Guerilla Metaphysics. Illinois: Open Court, 2005. Ihde, Don. Listening and Voice: Phenomenologies of Sound. Albany: State University of New York, 2007. Innis, Harold. Empire and Communication. Toronto: Voyageur Classics, 1950/2007. Losee, Robert M. “A Discipline Independent Definition of Information.” Journal of the American Society for Information Science 48.3 (1997): 254–69. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. London: Sphere Books, 1964/1967. Morton, Timothy. Ecology Without Nature: Rethinking Environmental Aesthetics. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007. Murray, Robin, and Heumann, Joseph. Ecology and Popular Film: Cinema on the Edge. Albany: State University of New York, 2009 Scarrott, G.C. “The Nature of Information.” The Computer Journal 32.3 (1989): 261-66 Serres, Michel. Hermes: Literature, Science Philosophy. Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press, 1982. -----. The Natural Contract. Trans. Elizabeth MacArthur and William Paulson. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1992/1995. -----. Genesis. Trans. Genevieve James and James Nielson. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1982/1995. -----. “A Return to the Natural Contract.” Making Peace with the Earth. Ed. Jerome Binde. Oxford: UNESCO and Berghahn Books, 2007. Strate, Lance. Echoes and Reflections: On Media Ecology as a Field of Study. New York: Hampton Press, 2006 Wallen, Ruth. “Ecological Art: A Call for Intervention in a Time of Crisis.” Leonardo 45.3 (2012): 234-42.

“This table breeds idleness!” read the text of a handwritten message placed prominently on the table I shared with 5 of my friends many years ago in secondary school. Ours was one of several tables positioned to the side of the main teaching area of the classroom where we would gather on arrival, decant our bags to tables, gossip with our ‘group’ and then begin our school day. It was also a space where we could sit or study quietly between classes and during free periods. The note about our idleness was left only on ‘our’ table. Recognising the handwriting of our classroom teacher, Sister Celestine, we greeted her note with restrained laughter and a sense of teenage pride. Her reprimand was stern, but she had also acknowledged our specialness. We were seen as we might have wanted to be seen, recalcitrant, not too hardworking, slightly roguish, and a bit improper.That note, and its words, stayed with me for a long time. There was something wonderfully urgent about this call to reflexivity; and something pleasantly disturbing about the panicky tone of its message. It seemed a peculiar expression of both crisis and care. ‘Idleness’ was a word we rarely encountered. In fact, it seemed such an old fashioned utterance, belonging more to a past era of our nun and the vernacular of her time. What was it that moved this nun to construe our mischief and our youthful conviviality as idleness? We considered ourselves spirited and boisterous, certainly not inert, as the word seemed to imply. This was curious, but it was the word ‘breeds’ that captured me more. What precisely is the generative or reproductive power of the conjunction of our bodies and this table? The concern was clearly not just about our idleness, but also about the breeding power of this table.Idleness here speaks to us of what happens when proper things are not happening. When the table and our bodies converge in this space of idleness we are in the terrain of waste: wasting time (that could be spent on studying), wasting potential (that could advance our life prospects), wasting space (that could be used productively). The breeding of idleness is a judgement about how we are occupying this time and space. The table is a wasted space, and in turn it produces us as a waste of space. It is regulated by a circular logic. We are wasting time, which is wasting space; this in turn produces us as the wasters of that space. The space of the table might be used more purposefully, but not while it is breeding us. The nun’s note to us might have read, “You are a waste of space because you are wasting time.” Time is thus spatialised. The ‘table of idleness’ has returned to me in recent times as a partial metaphor for the paradigm of urban renewal. Contemporary urban renewal and regeneration programs in places like the UK, Europe, North America and Australia are inspired to use space more productively, and to design and develop urban space in ways that enable the production of vibrant, clean, safer places where cultural diversity might be experienced as cosmopolitan chic. Tethering modern urban design to property development and the trend to ‘lifestyle’ based local economies, urban renewal is a strategy sweeping most postindustrial economies. Suburbs ripe for these renewal, regeneration or revitalisation projects are identified in part through the presence of dormant, derelict spaces, in other words, wasted spaces from bygone eras. Typically these suburbs show the signs of neglect associated with economic change. They have become dormant as large-scale deindustrialisation and the development of large shopping malls away from urban centres sees people exiting the suburbs to work and shop. Street life diminishes and local businesses struggle or close, leaving landscapes of decaying infrastructure and urban decline. Urban renewal apprehends such idle spaces as wasted opportunities that can be designed and developed into a usefulness that provides lifestyles of comfort, vitality and urban safety. But these wasted spaces also produce shadow wastes. Much like our table of indolence and time wasting, these spaces are considered breeding grounds, not just for a sense of urban dullness and decay but, more worryingly, for generating urban sloth and danger. They become the breeding grounds for what is now commonly referred to as ‘antisocial behaviour’ or ‘urban incivility’. That is, those who ‘unproductively’ and ‘dangerously’ occupy particular urban public spaces. In the inner western Melbourne suburb of Footscray, which is currently undergoing renewal, these bodies are identified as the unruly public drinkers and drug users, black African men who have created a street café culture, and people with mental health difficulties who occupy the streets and who at times display anomalous bodily comportment and atypical civil demeanours. Many of these people are poor and sometimes engage in unconventional modalities of conviviality. A contemporary urban version of the idle schoolgirls in many ways, they sit at tables, on footpaths, in stairwells, on seats, in parks and often linger around railways stations. They are the unproductive, idle, culturally defunct bodies of the present day. It is useful to hold these bodies in mind when considering the waste products, and waste producers, of present time In the discourse of urban renewal, Footscray is depicted as a once thriving regional hub that has been ‘in decline’ since the 1980s. Decline here is code for the loss of industry and retail business alongside rising levels of poverty, cultural diversity, and public crime (predominantly drug related and property crime). A suburb in the grip of uneven gentrifying change, its dominant image of danger and diversity still sabotages its ‘lifestyle potential’. It remains a wasted space.The nexus of urban renewal and wasted space reveals a double obligation of renewal programs. The need to remove the waste, to ‘clean up’ the debris and decay of a bygone industrial and suburban era and to ‘clean out’ its progeny, the bodies borne of, and now further wasting, this wasted space. In this sense idle space as waste entails a bio-politics that produces particular bodies as a ‘waste of space’. Urban Dictionary defines waste of space thus: 1. A person devoid of any redeeming characteristics; 2. Someone who consumes valuable resources without contributing anything to society. A bum. A drain on the economy. 3. A person or occasionally an object which nobody is fond of. In fact, most people hate this person/thing and find it completely useless. 4. Completely useless people. 5. Waste of room, usually on computer hard drives, that could be used for better things. It is therefore worth considering the conceptual and historical trajectory of the link between waste and idleness as a prelude to considering in more detail some of the anxieties associated with the disorderly urban effects of idle bodies in wasted spaces. Waste as Improper UseAt its most elemental, waste is a judgment. Waste as profligate or excess consumption, or as leftover material, or as something that has deteriorated through neglect or lack of effort, is a moral reckoning. Judgments about waste signal a moral economy far more than they do a fiscal one. In his book On Garbage, John Scanlan notes that ‘waste’ in its old and middle English modes referred to a land or an environment that was unsuitable to human habitation. This reference was gradually replaced by the corresponding terms ‘wilderness’ or ‘desert’, thus marking the beginning of waste as reprimand. Bringing together modern and pre-modern language usage, Scanlan suggests that waste at its most general refers to an imbalance (22). Whether it is rubbish, junk, clutter or other extravagance excess, and squander, waste is too much, but also too little in the sense of ‘not making the best use of something’ (time, resources, opportunities). Pared right down waste refers to the proper use of something. Scanlan again: “‘waste’ carries force because of the way in which it symbolises an idea of improper use, and therefore operates within a more or less moral economy of the right, the good, the proper, their opposites and all values in between” (22 my emphasis). In the contemporary urban domain this might refer to the overuse of vast tracts of land exhausted or wrecked by industry, the abandonment or underutilisation of shops and commons, or the improper and uncivil use of the space that lingers. Scanlan traces this idea of waste as improper use back to the relation between self and natural space that inheres in seventeenth century English political philosophy. Referring to the work of John Locke in particular, waste is conceived as the original condition of the chaos of nature. For Locke selfhood became linked to freedom from this chaos and entailed the virtue, indeed the necessity, of human labour and intervention to ward off the potential ruin that nature may inflict. Locke outlines a philosophical and ethical basis for claims to property over land and natural resources such that “claims to property ownership rest on an idea of the proper use of land which entails the appropriation (through the use of one’s labour) of its previously unused potential” (Scanlan 24). Hence, “Land that is left wholly to nature, that hath no improvement of pasturage, tillage, or planting, is called, as indeed it is, waste; and we shall see the benefit of it amount to little more than nothing.” (Locke quoted in Scanlan 24). This Lockean understanding of waste has come to be associated with his theories of property rights, but, as Scanlan points out, it was also driven by the idea that any benefits derived from property were “dependent on a duty to a higher power” (26).Nature is construed as useless and chaotic (waste) in the absence of human intervention. Property and ‘land use’ were not just about use by humans, but use for humans in order to defend them against the unruliness of nature and the disorder and ruin it might issue. The danger of going to rack and ruin through the disorder of untamed waste is crucial to this understanding. To neglect nature through idleness or lack of intervention is to invite ruin. Idleness thus breeds waste. There is a link here between land and character, for doing nothing or not doing things properly corresponds with improper character. Scanlan advances that waste can best be understood here as an indeterminacy signaling the need for form and discipline. He notes that Montaigne in his essay On Idleness compares wasted land with the idle mind, which when undisciplined allows wildness of character and purpose. Reminiscent of schoolgirls at their table of idleness, the defunct bodies of urban life are seen to be without purpose or goal and to be wasteful of life itself. As a consequence they are deemed to be inviting havoc and all its destructive tendencies. This fear of the indeterminacy of waste, says Scanlan, portends the social and cultural links between “waste, imperfection, disorder and ruin” (25). While concepts of properness and proper use have multiple histories, it is not difficult to see how these seventeenth century Enlightenment associations of proper use and rights to property underpinned the period of new imperialism of the nineteenth century. We might say then that waste features prominently in the imperialist imaginary. Codes of properness, as in the proper use of things, are time and place specific, hence interrogating the meanings of ‘proper use’ entails a prior enquiry into the framing of time. It is linear time, that is, time as progress which frames imperial and colonial history. Progress is movement away from scarcity, disorder and deficiency towards enlightened reason, discipline and mastery. However, this notion of progress, which is central to ideologies of both Enlightenment and imperialism, is always dependent on a shadow other: backwardness. Anne McClintock emphasises a corresponding need to always travel backwards in time in order to apprehend the colonised spaces and people as existing in an eternally prior time, as obsolete historical subjects. According to McClintock, imperialist discourse relies on two principal tropes: panoptical time and anachronistic space. She explains that the eighteenth century historians and empiricists required “a visual paradigm […] to display evolutionary progress as a measurable spectacle.” Progress is fundamentally a visually driven process and narrative. Panoptical time is depicted as “the image of global history consumed—at a glance—in a single spectacle from the point of privileged invisibility” (37). Marginal groups are placed outside of history in the sense that they can be seen by the bourgeoisie, who itself remains unseen. In this spectacle of progress, history appears static and fixed, but this is countered through the invention of the trope of anachronistic space. This space denies the agency of the archaic subjects that exist outside and therefore threaten history as progress. McClintock explains: “the agency of women, the colonised and the industrial working class are disavowed and projected onto anachronistic space: prehistoric, atavistic and irrational, inherently out of place in the historical time of modernity” (40). If imperial panoptical time produces inferior subjects who are “hemmed in” (Fanon 29) by anterior time and anachronistic space, contemporary urban renewal projects prompt questions about their time, the time of now. How might we conceptualise the time/space of now, and are these regulatory technologies of panoptical time and anachronistic space at work in the time/space of now? In what way is urban renewal a contemporary “measurable spectacle of progress” in an age of postindustrial neoliberalism?Urban Space, Proper Use and Idle BodiesIn a recent article on sexual politics and torture, Judith Butler argues that the ways in which debates of this nature are framed “are already imbued with the problem of time, of progress in particular, and in certain notions of what it means to unfold a future of freedom in time” (1). Butler reminds us that hegemonic conceptions of progress endure, and continue to define themselves over and against a pre-modern temporality produced for self-legitimation. This narrative of progressive modernity continues to spatialise time. For her it is the framing of modernity as sexual freedom that apprehends others as outmoded and stuck in anachronistic space. The time of now in the urban setting is the time of neoliberal modernity, a time that is also driven by spectacle. The vision of freedom through lifestyle consumption similarly identifies others who are outside this time and who threaten it. Neoliberalism as the ideology of a radically free market that institutes economic deregulation, tariff reduction, public financial support for business and its shareholders, and the reduced role of government in areas of welfare and social expenditure, the effects of which are discernable at the urban scale. For Neil Brenner and Nik Theodore, “actually existing neoliberalism” is witnessed in what they call the “creative destruction” that inheres in the urbanisation of neoliberalism. In this materialisation of neoliberal time, modernity and progress continue to be driven visually. Thus this neoliberal/urban nexus depends on further sub-units of time, nominated by Brenner and Theodore as moments of (visual) “destruction and creation.” A series of examples of such creative destruction are offered by Brenner and Theodore and include the destruction of rights through the creation policing and social exclusion agendas. They argue that the mechanism of “re-regulating urban civility” entails moments of destroying notions of the liberal city in which all inhabitants are entitled to social services and political rights, and moments of creating zero tolerance policing, new forms of social surveillance and new policies to prevent social exclusion. The destructive moment of “re-representing the city” recasts the postwar image of the working class through visions of urban disorder, dangerous classes of people and of economic decline, involves the creative moment of entrepreneurial discourses about the need for revitalisation, renewal and reinvestment in urban areas (372). The ‘proper use’ of neoliberal urban space depends on the dynamic of destruction/creation through a new consumer-driven urban entrepreneurialism. Urban renewal as proper neoliberal usage is a re-ordering of space to make it fit for purpose. Proper use here follows the Lockean impulse of human intervention through planning, design and redevelopment, is now apprehended not as service to God, but capitulation to the dictates of the neoliberal agendas implemented by the combined forces of the state and capital. The moral economy of waste is at work in the moral economy of urban renewal, As Sharon Zukin elaborates: “the look and feel of cities reflect decisions about what and who should be visible and what should not, concepts of order and disorder, and on uses of aesthetic power” (7). At the crux of waste, and of urban renewal, is an anxiety about visibility, therefore the persistently visible presence of waste as idleness, has become an acute focus of contemporary urban governance and police ‘law and order’ campaigns. Modernity and progress must materialise as an urban aesthetic that is purposeful and vibrant, not idle and wasteful.The indeterminacy of waste thus becomes determined by its attribution as ‘garbage’ to be disposed of, banished, evicted, cast out. Waste converted to garbage is made into an object disconnected from the process of its production. Garbage is a noun rather than a verb, and as such, it conceals process. Creative destruction is again at play; waste is destroyed (as process) and garbage (as object) is produced. In the suburbs this conversion from process to object is narrated through the objectifying language of anti social behavior and incivility. I recently attended Maribyrnong council meeting (Maribyrnong being the local government authority for Footscray), where a discussion about cleaning up the central activity district quickly became a discussion about “those antisocial people.” This was not the terminology of council officers, but of a number of ratepayers. This anxiety about the image of the area is reflected also in the minutes of a further council meeting where differences between the stigmatised image of Footscray was compared with the changing images of other inner municipalities: “The visibility of these antisocial behaviours and the associated negative impact has significantly diminished in these [other] areas due to the gentrification of the inner-city, and the associated revitalisation of street activities. [Our municipality] is on the cusp of a similar transformation. In the meantime the social issues … continue to remain more visible” (71). These bodies are the garbage to be removed from the urban landscape so it might be made anew.The bodies at the imaginative centre of this cleansing impulse are those bodies that one might see as the waste products of neoliberalism. Loic Wacquant suggests that today’s urban policies focus on “making the dangerous and dirty classes invisible.” This, he argues is “leading to a cleansing of the urban environment and the streets from the physical and human detritus wrought by economic deregulation and welfare retrenchment” (198). Consequently, waste in urban renewal both conceals and reveals the shadow side of contemporary cultural politics. Public policy is increasingly concerned with the detritus, yet the failed and wasted bodies that litter the streets and stations, these bodies and their predicaments, as with other garbage objects, are steadfastly disconnected from the policies and processes that produced and continue to ‘breed’ them. The moral economy of urban renewal targets a cluster of wastes—idle bodies, wasted time, and improper uses of space—all fused in an endless reproduction of uselessness. This coalescence of wastes and wasters forms the spectacle of contemporary urban decay and failure. Neoliberal urban renewal begins to mimic Locke’s taming of nature, making it useful as a defense against ruin and disorder. The uncultivated bodies of urban waste are contemporary versions of Lockean wildness. Being of such poor character they have no right to occupy the property in which they idle. Through the panoptical time of neoliberalism they are cast as remarkable spectacles of failure, out of place in this time and space. They are wasting time, and are themselves a waste of space. References Brenner, Neil and Nik Theodore. “Cities and the Geographies of ‘Actually Existing Neoliberalism’.” Antipode 34.3 (July 2002): 349-79.Butler, Judith. “Sexual Politics, Torture and Secular Time.” The British Journal of Sociology 59.1 (2008): 1-23.Fanon, Frantz. Wretched of the Earth. London: Penguin, 1963.Maribyrnong City Council. Ordinary Meeting Minutes, File no: HEA-60-014, 29 April. 2010.McClintock, Anne. Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest. London: Routledge, 1995.Scanlan, John. On Garbage. London: Reaktion, 2005.Wacquant, Loic. “Relocating Gentrification: The Working Class, Science and the State in Recent Urban Research.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 32.1 (2008): 198-205.Zukin, Sharon. The Culture of Cities. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell, 1995.

The use of wilderness rangers to educate visitors on Without-A-Trace camping and wilderness ethics at trailheads is a common management practice, but little is known about how such contacts affect the visitors' wilderness experiences. The purpose of this study was to determine whether Shining Rock Wilderness visitors perceived trailhead contacts as light-handed or heavy-handed and the factors which caused them to perceive the contact the way they did. It also determined whether or not the visitors felt that site conditions in the wilderness were getting better or worse. On-site questionnaires were administered to visitors as they left the area. A majority felt the trailhead contact was a light-handed way to manage wilderness use. The visitors felt that the contact did not take away their freedom to choose how, when or where to recreate. The rangers were perceived as friendly, knowledgeable, and non-authoritarian. The condition of Shining Rock Wilderness was perceived to be relatively free of site impacts. There were no significant differences in the visitors' perceptions of the ranger or the contact due to the sex or experience of the ranger or the sex, age, or experience of the visitors. Implications for wilderness management and research are discussed.
M.S.

Thesis (M.S.) -- University of Montana, 2008.
Title from author supplied metadata. Description based on contents viewed on June 15, 2009. ETD number: etd-11122008-113833. Includes bibliographical references.

Charon's Garden Wilderness Area within the Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge in Oklahoma is a landscape that is granted federal protection through the Wilderness Act of 1964. The discourse of wilderness management is influenced by governmental policies and practice which organize knowledge surrounding the natural landscape, like with the formation and semantics of the Wilderness Act. The Wilderness Act establishes characteristics that are designed to monitor and control the landscape and serve as a baseline and criterion for further wilderness preservation. These characteristics render the wilderness space as governable. Conservation management alternatives are identified which bypass the duality of nature from western society suggested by the discourse of environmental policy. These alternatives are understood under two notions of behaviors and perceptions. The project's goal is to uncover wilderness users' recreation behaviors and perceptions of wilderness as a designated space. Through understanding and assessing user's behaviors and perception of wilderness, alternative policies and practices that offer sustainable management practices and recreation opportunities can be developed.

Charon's Garden Wilderness Area within the Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge in Oklahoma is a landscape that is granted federal protection through the Wilderness Act of 1964. The discourse of wilderness management is influenced by governmental policies and practice which organize knowledge surrounding the natural landscape, like with the formation and semantics of the Wilderness Act. The Wilderness Act establishes characteristics that are designed to monitor and control the landscape and serve as a baseline and criterion for further wilderness preservation. These characteristics render the wilderness space as governable. Conservation management alternatives are identified which bypass the duality of nature from western society suggested by the discourse of environmental policy. These alternatives are understood under two notions of behaviors and perceptions. The project's goal is to uncover wilderness users' recreation behaviors and perceptions of wilderness as a designated space. Through understanding and assessing user's behaviors and perception of wilderness, alternative policies and practices that offer sustainable management practices and recreation opportunities can be developed.

Over the last thirty years the meaning of the word 'wilderness' has changed in Australia, and it has come under sustained attack on philosophical, cultural, political and ‘justice’ grounds. This thesis investigates the 'Wilderness Knot’ – the confusion and tangled meanings around ‘wilderness’. In the literature this ‘knot’ is comprised of at least five strands; philosophical, political, cultural, justice and exploitation. Normally people focus only on the last of these strands, its economic exploitation. The methodology is qualitative, involving participatory action research (PAR) and hermeneutic phenomenology. The PAR was done with the Blue Mountains Wilderness Network near Sydney, which investigated the confusion around ‘wilderness’, and sought to reduce this by entering into dialogue with supporters, critics and community members interested in wilderness issues, notably the local Aboriginal Traditional Owners (TOs). Eleven in-depth interviews with scholars (including critics) of wilderness were carried out to feed into this PAR. The hermeneutic phenomenology made use of the wilderness journals of five of the Network, and sought to gain a deeper understanding of the experience of wilderness itself, and also the lived experience of encountering the wilderness knot. The PAR provided many insights into the knot, especially regarding the need for dialogue to reduce the confusion. It demonstrated the delicacy needed to gain meaningful dialogue over an issue which raises real passions about social and environmental justice. It took three years to develop meaningful dialogue between TOs and conservationists. The spectra of issues entangled in ‘the land’ and ‘wilderness’ are presented textually and diagrammatically, as are the ways forward to untangle meanings and reduce confusion. The political naivety of academia is discussed in regard to ‘wilderness as lanai’ (considering increasing threats). There is a need for greater rigour in identifying which meaning of ‘wilderness’ is actually being referred to. There is also merit in promoting recognition that ‘wilderness’ is in fact a tribute to past indigenous land practices, not a disregard of indigenous history. The idea of shared ‘custodianship’ or stewardship is suggested as a way forward. The wilderness knot can indeed be loosened, as this thesis demonstrates. However, it will be an ongoing project for all those involved. The art to keeping ‘wilderness as lanai’ is not just ‘eternal vigilance’ it is an eternal ongoing dialogue about its meaning and values.
Doctor of Philosophy (PhD)

Are wilderness areas more than just a recreational opportunity, tourist destination or objects of scientific curiosity? People may well be attracted to wild nature in pursuit of deeper meanings other than by these examples of visitor motivations. Representing a benchmark in Australia, if not internationally, the aim of this exploratory research was to develop a greater understanding of the spiritual values of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, and their relevance to wilderness management processes. The work has a pragmatic intent, with results intended to assist future management planning and operational decisions in Tasmania, and inform wilderness management practices in other wilderness areas and jurisdictions more generally. The aim was achieved by a questionnaire survey sent to random samples of the general public and members of The Wilderness Society in Tasmania, and to staff of the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service involved with management of the Tasmanian wilderness. A variety of statistical analyses, including Pearson product-moment correlation, stepwise regression, and factor analysis were conducted on the data to examine and test the relationships between all of respondents' underlying general spirituality, wilderness spirituality, attitudes to solitude, and answers to various management related questions. Content analysis of the meanings of wilderness spirituality and scene analysis of wilderness photographs complemented the quantitative techniques. The results show wilderness spirituality to be different to spirituality in general, and unequivocally demonstrate for the first time, the existence and importance of the spiritual value of the Tasmanian wilderness. The research also identifies the landscape elements contributing to a spiritual experience, describes the defining characteristics of wilderness spirituality, confirms the important role that solitude and peace and quiet plays in the wilderness experience, and suggests that conservationists are more disposed to wilderness spirituality than the general public and wilderness managers. Respondents' disposition to spirituality in general was found to be the main determinant of their wilderness spirituality. In the absence of an established literature on the operationalisation of spiritual values of wilderness into field management frameworks and management plans, recommendations are presented for consideration by the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service to maintain and improve the spiritual values of the Tasmanian wilderness. The research will assist managers to take better account of spiritual values through the preservation of wilderness and maintaining the wilderness character that contribute to spiritual experiences. While the results and recommendations are derived from the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, they can also be used to inform wilderness management elsewhere. Theoretical and methodological contributions include the assignment of wilderness spirituality among forms of spirituality, identification of the defining characteristics of wilderness spirituality, measurement of wilderness spirituality, and advancing the use of photo-elicitation.

In 1979 the National Park Service (NPS) approved a Colorado River Management Plan (CRMP) based on the Grand Canyon Wilderness Recommendation and findings from a comprehensive research program. An amendment to an Interior Appropriations Bill in 1981 prohibited the implementation of this plan and resulted in increased public use levels and continued motorized use in proposed wilderness. In the last 20 years, the demand for Whitewater experiences has increased, especially for the self-outfitted public. Today, the NPS is challenged by users and preservationists to provide accessibility while maintaining wilderness integrity. Whitewater trips along the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon National Park are an excellent example of how increasing human use is impacting a sensitive, dynamic ecosystem and threatening to degrade the quality of experience for human visitors. Although visitation of the Colorado River has remained relatively constant since the 1989 CRMP—at 20,000 to 22,000 visitors and another 3,700 guides, researchers, and park staff traveling through the Grand Canyon each year—figure 1 shows the rapid rise in visitation since 1955. Visitors travel on over 600 commercial or privately organized river trips on a variety of watercraft powered by oars, paddles, or motors for varying duration. Most of the recreational use is concentrated in the summer months, resulting in high encounter rates and congestion at riverside attraction sites. Commercially guided operations account for over 80% of the total recreational use, of which 85% is on motorized rafts. The remaining proportion of recreational river trips are undertaken by noncommercial, self-outfitted public. Nearly 60% of the self-outfitted trips occur in the summer months, with an even proportion on use in the spring and fall. Less than 1% of these trips are motorized. Major drainages and side canyons along the 277-mile river corridor in Grand Canyon National Park provide recreational activities including white water rapids, sightseeing, hiking, and swimming. Well-known attractions and destinations are regular stops for nearly every river trip that passes through the canyon. Crowding and congestion along the river at attraction sites is often extreme and has been shown to affect the character and quality of visitor experience (e.g., Shelby et a]. ).

This introductory chapter presents the case study of the Point Reyes National Seashore (PRNS), which was embroiled in a controversy in 2012. The issue was not the usual industry-versus-nature debate: on the one hand, national environmental organizations sought official designation of a marine wilderness; on the other, oyster farm operators and local foods advocates insisted that their historic operation was doing no harm and should be allowed to continue. This case example reveals a great deal about parks management in the United States. As the chapter shows, such controversies highlight much larger questions about what parks are for, what they are meant to protect and provide to the public, and how to make choices between competing uses or management priorities for park resources.

<em>Abstract</em>.—Native fish conservation areas (NFCAs) are watersheds where management emphasizes proactive conservation and restoration for long-term persistence of native fish assemblages while allowing for compatible uses. Native fish conservation areas are intended to complement traditional fisheries management approaches that are often reactive to population stressors and focused on single-species conservation efforts rather than complete assemblages. We identified potential NFCAs in the upper Snake River basin above Hells Canyon Dam using a process that ranked all subwatersheds (Hydrologic Unit Code 12) and used empirical data on distribution, abundance, and genetics for three native trout species (Bull Trout <em>Salvelinus confluentus</em>, Columbia River Redband Trout <em>Oncorhynchus mykiss gairdneri</em>, and Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout <em>O. clarkii bouvieri</em>, including the fine-spotted form) and both known occurrences and modeled potential distributions of native nongame fishes. Rankings also incorporated drainage network connectivity and land-protection status (e.g., national park, wilderness). Clusters of high-ranking subwatersheds were identified as potential NFCAs that were then classified according to the presence of nongame fishes identified as species of greatest conservation need in state wildlife action plans. The Pacific Creek and Goose Creek watersheds ranked high in the upper basin (above Shoshone Falls), and Little Jacks Creek and Squaw Creek ranked high in the lower basin. We then contrasted characteristics of a select few potential NFCAs, discuss the practical implementation and benefits of NFCAs for both fishes and other aquatic species in the upper Snake River basin, examined how the NFCA approach could enhance existing conservation partnerships, and discuss how designating select watersheds as NFCAs can create higher public awareness of the value of native fishes and other aquatic species and their habitats.

Poisoned towns and rivers, species extinctions, and now climate change have confirmed many times over how modern dreams of limitless growth combined with relentless technological exploitation have compromised planetary life at every level. In response to such degradation, the integrity of local place has been a major orientation for environmental ethics and criticism. The origins of localism are conventionally traced to late-eighteenth-and nineteenth-century critiques of urban industrialization, and Romanticism’s corresponding veneration for rural authenticity and wilderness spaces. Mid-twentieth-century environmentalism revived this ‘ethic of proximity’ in denouncing the release of pollutants and carcinogens into local soils, waters, and atmospheres by civil offshoots of military manufacturing and industrial agriculture. Those releases did not stay local, but soon penetrated regional water systems and wind patterns to become worldwide problems. Such networks of devastation continue to grow, especially in developing countries eager to mimic the worst aspects of Western consumer culture. In response to these developments, ecotheorists have partially revised locally focused models of environmental protection. Planetary threats such as rising global temperatures, melting polar ice sheets, and more intense storms have made it imperative to update the famous Sierra Club slogan and to act globally as well as locally. Localism has also been reshaped by conservation biology’s new recognition that geophysical disturbances and organic change are structural features of all healthy ecosystems. Within these more complicated ecological paradigms, the cultivation of relatively balanced and genuinely sustainable local relationships nonetheless remains an important conservationist worldview. In early modern England it was the leading life experience out of which responses to new environmental dangers were conceived. In this chapter I shall discuss Shakespeare’s representations of one of the three most significant of these threats—deforestation—in The Merry Wives of Windsor. (The other two, exploitative land-uses and gunpowder militarization, will be the subjects of Chapters 2 and 3 respectively). Early modern English writers and governments treated deforestation as a national problem, even though its impacts were concentrated mainly in the Midlands and the south-east.

The purpose of the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) is to ensure that all federally administered or assisted programs are conducted so as to take the environmental impact of their activity into consideration. The scope of NEPA includes privately financed and conducted projects for which federal licensing is required. The law also establishes a presidential advisory group called the Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ). The crucial section of the act (U.S. Code, Title 102, Pt. 2c), which concerns the environmental impact statement (EIS), states, in part, that The Congress authorizes and directs that, to the fullest extent possible . . . all agencies of the Federal Government shall . . . include in every recommendation or report on proposal for legislation and other major Federal actions significantly affecting the quality of the human environment, a detailed statement by the responsible official on: •The environmental impact of the proposed action, • Any adverse environmental effects which cannot be avoided should the proposal be implemented, • Alternatives to the proposed action, • The relationship between local, short-term uses of man’s environment and maintenance and enhancement of long-term productivity, and • Any irreversible and irretrievable commitments of resources which would be involved in the proposed action should it be implemented. Environment in this context refers not only to wilderness, water, air, and other natural resources. It has a broader meaning that includes health, aesthetics, and pleasing surroundings. Although the law requires an EIS, it does not say anything about what conditions would be required in order to carry out the project. Moreover, NEPA does not give more weight to environmental considerations than it gives to other national goals. Thus the decision about implementation of a program is left to the courts. In practice, few projects have ever been halted by a court decision under NEPA. However, some projects have been abandoned or modified, before being challenged in court, because of NEPA. Figure 15.1 shows the framework of the federal environmental regulatory structure. Four federal agencies cover the environmental aspects of the national policy.

The accompanying database is a compilation of geochemical analytical data from Mineral Land Assessments (MLAs) prepared by the U.S. Bureau of Mines. These mineral assessments cover Wilderness Study Areas in Utah and were prepared from 1982 through 1992. The analytical data is primarily from rock samples, but the database also includes some stream sediment and pan concentrate samples. The database includes over 4200 analytical records. Users of this database should be aware that the quality of the analyses may be variable. The data are presented “as is”; potential low-quality data were not filtered out. The database is in spreadsheet (Microsoft Excel and csv) and geodatabase formats. The geodatabase version has fewer records (~3840) than the spreadsheet version because some of the analytical data had no associated location information. Figure 1 shows Wilderness Study Areas in Utah and locations of samples in the geodatabase.