Seeing the forest for the trees - Mitch Friedman, director of the Northwest Ecosystem Alliance
Animals, May-June, 1997 by Bill Donahue
In the Pacific Northwest, the logging of timber is a ritual, a multi-step process that involves thousands of people. The drama usually starts with a Forest Service pronouncement. Then come the lawsuits, then the activitists howling and locking themselves to the trees, and then, finally, the revving of chainsaws.
The ordeal is often predictable and, to conservationists, very frustrating. So last winter, Mitch Friedman, director of the Bellingham, Washington-based Northwest Ecosystem Alliance (NWEA), decided to thrust a stick in the spokes. He proposed that environmentalists be allowed to make bids at Forest Service timber auctions and leave purchased trees standing for a century.
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Friedman's idea challenged the ancient Forest Service practice of selling timber only to logging companies. The agency was not swayed--spokesperson Christopher Holmes argues that "prescribed logging rids the forest of disease and dying trees." Still, Friedman's "unlogging" proposal was a publicity coup. The New York Times, National Public Radio, and CNN covered it, and the Associated Press delivered a memorable quote from
Friedman: "The Forest Service is running our public lands like an exclusive club. And a checkbook won't get you in. You need a chainsaw." Congressman Sid Yates responded by asking the Forest Service to change the way it runs timber sales.
Friedman, once again, proved himself a deft advocate for the Northwest forest and for its creatures, which live in one of the nation's last unspoiled places. Over the past decade, Friedman has helped push through a reauthorization of the Endangered Species Act, eloquently championed conservation biology, and helped curtail cruel hunting practices in Washington State. "Mitch," says former Oregon Natural Resources Director Andy Kerr, "is a great conservation leader because he's a pragmatist. Some environmentalists think tree-sitting is the answer to everything. Others invariably file a lawsuit, but Mitch is versatile. He can survey a situation and decide what works best."
Pragmatism might not be what you'd expect from the 33-year-old Friedman: he started out in 1985 with the radical environmental group Earth First! Then a zoology major at the University of Washington, he sabotaged logging equipment and blocked logging trucks as they rumbled into the forest. But, he says now, he never felt entirely comfortable monkey-wrenching. "The anger," he laments, "was all so unnecessary. Our demand, `Stop Cutting Old Growth,' was scientifically justifiable, and it meshed with the hopes of many average Americans."
Allied with what he calls a leaderless "disorganization," he taught himself how to decipher environmental-impact statements, and spout TV-ready quotes on the wolf and the cougar. And in 1988, he applied his accumulated knowledge to writing Forever Wild: Conserving the Greater North Cascades Ecosystem.
An early expression of conservation biology, the book argued that humans cannot sustain the Cascades' fauna merely by preserving large chunks of untrammeled wilderness. Environmentalists were impressed by the book's impassioned science, and Friedman decided to form a group of activists who shared his outlook. The plan was to meet casually in friends' living rooms, but gradually, with homegrown aplomb, NWEA blossomed. In 1989 it grabbed headlines when Friedman drove a flatbed truck through 28 states, lugging a 730-year-old Douglas Fir. Thousands of Americans got a firsthand look at an imperiled national treasure.
Since its inaugural journey, NWEA has grown. It has 2,000 members now and commands the respect of inside-the-Beltway ecotitans such as Defenders of Wildlife and The Wilderness Society. Nevertheless, Friedman still pursues a visionary agenda with ever-increasing political savvy. Last fall, for instance, he joined with Washington animal advocates to campaign for a triumphant ballot initiative. Measure 655 banned all bear hunting and the hound-hunting of bobcat, cougar, and lynx.
Lisa Wathne, program coordinator for the Seattle-based Progressive Animal Welfare Society, comments, "Mitch is one of the few environmentalists to see the connection between the environment and animal rights." Since the election, Friedman has focused on defending Washington's Loomis State Forest, a rich old-growth haven slated for logging. NWEA has sued the state of Washington--which, Friedman argues, is poised to rob habitat from the endangered grizzly--and implored the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to list the lynx, which needs the Loomis' roadless expanses, as threatened. Such projects now keep Friedman at his computer 60 hours a week, but most of this time he's yearning to get out of the office for his annual backpacking trip. He usually goes for a few weeks each summer, and the hike always deepens his awe of wild creatures. "There is nothing like seeing a grizzly hair on a tree," he explains. "It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You're aware of a wholeness that just isn't present in a fragmented ecosystem. You know that you're visiting a vital place--and that you need to visit on the terms of the animals who live there."
COPYRIGHT 1997 Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
