The Rise of the American Conservation Movement: Power, Privilege, and Environmental Protection

by Dorceta E. Taylor

In this sweeping social history Dorceta E. Taylor examines the emergence and rise of the multifaceted U.S. conservation movement from the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth century. She shows how race, class, and gender influenced every aspect of the movement, including the establishment of parks; campaigns to protect wild game, birds, and fish; forest conservation; outdoor recreation; and the movement's links to nineteenth-century ideologies. Initially led by white urban elites—whose early efforts discriminated against the lower class and were often tied up with slavery and the appropriation of Native lands—the movement benefited from contributions to policy making, knowledge about the environment, and activism by the poor and working class, people of color, women, and Native Americans. Far-ranging and nuanced, The Rise of the American Conservation Movement comprehensively documents the movement's competing motivations, conflicts, problematic practices, and achievements in new ways.

Genres: Nonfiction, Environment, History, Science, Nature, Sustainability, Ecology

496 pages, Hardcover

Published August 26, 2016

Reviews

[Josh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Academic but very readable history of conservation in America. This was highly recommended by people who are much more broadly read on the topics, and I pass that rec along here!

What Taylor does best is give a voice to all the forgotten people--for every Thoreau and Muir there are a bunch of women and BIPOC that don't live on in the cultural memory. Such as Susan Fenimore Cooper (daughter of James), who published some early naturalist writing about the rhythms of rural life that pre-dated those other guys.

Another note from my time reading this (started a few years ago and didn't entirely finish but it's time to move it off the currently-reading shelf) that stands out:

"Harriett Tubman was a boss."

[JC · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read for class. I actually really liked this book, though many in my class seemed to not like it. I think people seasoned in environmental or conservation history would not like this book. At least that’s the impression I got, but I am not one of those people. There were comments in class about this book lacking structure or an overarching argument, reading more like a reference text than a cohesive monograph. I myself enjoy that type of writing. Maybe I spent too much of my formative years reading highly interior navel-gazing show-don’t-tell CIA-funded Iowa Writers’ Workshop short story fiction. Though I’ve developed a taste for didactic fiction, I prefer non-fiction writers that don’t explicitly draw the connections, but rather juxtapose, insinuate, and allow readers to draw the connections themselves between fragmentary pieces. This is not how academic writing usually operates (possibly?), but I don’t enjoy spending my time reading segue-ways, a subtitle suffices for me. So I liked that aspect of this book. Heavy on the facts, light on the interpretation. Plus, after reading so many cis white men, it was a breath of fresh air to read this, and I wish there were more books like this on the syllabus.

There were lots of fascinating accounts of class, race, and gender in this book that gesture towards large gaps within environmental history, and this book is a good springboard for further research possibilities. An example to start with:

“A second conference was held in Yosemite National Park on October 14–16, 1912. The one hundred delegates in attendance included three women and congressional members… There were no ethnic minorities at either of the conferences even though Yosemite had had a black superintendent and black soldiers had helped with construction and management there and at other national parks. Asians, too, helped to build the main road that traverses Yosemite from 1882 to 1883. Moreover, Native Americans lived around several parks during the time of the conferences…”

There were some really interesting comments on how class and race intersected, and I think the racist elements in some class-oriented riots help illuminate contemporary issues such as the recent Convoy in Ottawa:

“The Civil War was another catalyst for violent confrontations. The Draft Riot, which lasted from July 13 to 17, 1863, began as a class riot and escalated into a race war. Rioting started when poor Irish residents protested a law exempting anyone who paid three hundred dollars from being drafted into the war. At first the mob focused their attention on the symbols of power and privilege by ransacking and burning police stations, arsenals, and the homes of the wealthy. However, as the rioting spread, the crowds began assaulting, lynching, and mutilating blacks; the homes of blacks and of institutions serving them were also destroyed. Estimates of the death toll range from 105 to 1,000”

There were also some interesting sections on Chinese labour history in the US as it relates to extractive industries and watery environments:

“The Chinese were also hired in large-scale hydraulic mining. They served on the construction crews that built the hydraulic system as well as the work crews that did the actual mining. Some of these mining operations hired as many as eight hundred Chinese in semi-skilled and unskilled positions and three hundred whites as skilled laborers (Ngai 2015: 1095).

Chinese miners made only a small profit, but that was enough to incur the wrath of white miners. Consequently, legal means were used to drive the Chinese out of gold and quartz mining. In 1852, a Foreign Miner’s Tax was passed and many districts passed ordinances to expel Chinese miners from their jurisdictions. Violence was also used to expel Chinese workers from mining areas. White miners robbed, beat, and threatened them, and burned their property”

“In addition, the California delta of the Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers was transformed by levees, drainage ditches, and irrigation systems built by the Chinese. Although the Chinese were excluded from salmon fishing by restrictive legislation, by 1880 they fished for sturgeon, shrimp, and abalone. By the end of that decade, Chinese shrimp camps were common on the shores of San Francisco Bay”

While on the theme of water, it was fascinating to see that it was already recognized at the beginning of the 18th century the impact dams had on fish populations, but the fact they were still built in so many places outside of New England (such as Ontario) without fish passages is remarkable to me. Some notes I took down: in 1709 Massachusetts banned construction of dams blocking passage of fish, 1740s sluiceways required to be built to allow passage for fish around dams.

Also some interesting activism by women to retain the names of Indigenous places:

“Also like Helen Hunt Jackson and Harriet Vaille in Colorado, [Mary Roberts] Rinehart urged the government to retain the use of Native American place-names in the national parks rather than having “obscure Government officials” and “unimportant people . . . memorialize them- selves on government maps.”

The little section on the history of public parks was also really interesting:

“American aristocrats also cloistered themselves around public open space such as Bowling Green and Battery Park in New York and the Common in Boston. When these spaces grew scarce, affluent urbanites built private parks such as St. Johns and Gramercy in New York and Louisburg Square in Boston (the latter two are still private today) (Taylor 2009: 231–235). American elites did not invent this form of urban living. From the late seventeenth century to the mid-nineteenth, European aristocrats began greening the squares in the most prestigious neighborhoods.”

The comments on Audubon as a slave owner and trader was also a very necessary part of the American conservation story that Taylor ensures is underscored. This is still an issue that comes up in birding talks I attend. Audubon also decapitated the bodies of dead Mexican soldiers to give the skulls to a white supremacist phrenologist, something that I don’t recall Taylor mentioning, but Audubon was not a good dude, and it sucks his name is so prevalent both in the naming of naturalist societies and in the taxonomy of fauna.

The sections on Harriet Tubman and Phyllis Wheatley (as an important figure in Romanticism whose influence on American environmentalism is often neglected) were likely my favourite. I’ll finish with some excerpts on Tubman (who is one of my greatest heroes):

“Tubman, if read from an ecological perspective, are as remarkable as any in the field and worthy of greater attention… One of John Muir’s more popular books, A Thousand Mile Walk to the Gulf (1916), details his journey from Indiana to Florida in 1867. Readers marvel at his feat—walking an estimated one thousand miles with only the clothing on his back, a plant press, a satchel containing a few books, and a few dollars in his pocket.

However, conservationists and preservationists have not similarly recognized and celebrated the journeys of Harriet Tubman, York, Biddy Mason, Sacagawea, Sara Winnemucca, or other people of color who undertook feats similar to or exceeding that of Muir’s...

Tubman was sent to work on the Cook plantation, where she waded through frigid waters to check the muskrat traps. She was later placed under her father’s tutelage in the fields. Tubman’s father was considered a “trusted slave” and was placed in charge of the timber-harvesting operations on the plantation. In the fields, Tubman felled trees, hauled and split logs, milked cows, drove oxen, and worked with the plow.

Despite the harshness of fieldwork, Tubman began to learn about and from the environment. While in the fields, she watched the sky and learned to predict the weather. She learned from her father how to find the North Star and use it to navigate through the woods. Her father also taught her how to move silently though the forest, imitate bird calls, and use bird sounds to communicate to others. He also taught her how to feel the barks of trees for moss—the moss grew more heavily on the north side of the trees and thus pointed the way north. Armed with that knowledge, she later used the trees to help her navigate on dark, starless nights. Her dad taught her about edible fruits and berries, and her mother taught her how to collect plants and boil them to make medicines.

Slaves were cognizant that the wilderness offered a type of freedom that couldn’t be realized on the plantation, hence they sang:

I found free grace in de wilderness,
In de wilderness, in the wilderness,
I found free grace in de wilderness
For I’m a-going home. (Butterworth 1887: 242)

The wetlands were also an integral part of subterfuge used to undermine slavery. The wetlands also served as sanctuaries, spaces for religious freedom, and sites for connecting blacks to nature.”

[Samantha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mixed review for this tome. I am sure many are reading it for a course, I read it because it was cited in a really interesting paper I came across on how the North American model of conservation was shaped by wealthy white hunters, and how the end result is a very single sided, exclusionary approach -something I have been feeling/dealing with throughout my career. I found the first few chapters to be (sorry!) boring, recitals of information that most of Taylor's readers probably already know. The other major issue with the book was the incredible amount of detail on individuals that were only brief specks in the broader history of conservation. I wish Taylor had focused more on the issues of race/class and how policy was actually shaped by these factors (the last few chapters) and less on, IMO, needless biographical details. I also wanted more from the conclusion - the author's perspective, and interpretation of meaning, a vision for the future.... Not a fast read by any means, but adds rich context for those working in the field.

[Emma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Required reading for anyone interested in the intersections of environmental and racial justice. Dr. Taylor is rad.

[Jessie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pretty dry but also very interesting and important.

[Haley Carlton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Opened my mind to so many different aspects of environmental racism and the history behind it that I hadn't even considered before. A great read and a must to truly understand the history and issues with environmentalism in the US. The story of Hetch Hetchy still sticks out in my mind.

[N. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book by sociologist Dorceta Taylor examines the intersections of class, race, and gender in the formation of the conservation movement, from about the mid nineteenth century to the 1930s. It is the second part of a trilogy, with the third book focusing on environmental justice in the 20th century. While this book is intended as a corrective to the existing literature on conservationism, the emphasis on power makes it valuable as a go-to history of this period. The writing is dry, and much of the content is broken out into sections separated by headings with no transition. This format, however, makes for a comprehensive look at the conservation movement. Environmental histories, even academic ones, can often fall into triumphalist narratives that overemphasize the philosophies and ideals of practitioners. This book grounds its history in the bargaining and trade-offs that came with the preservation of wild places and critiques the blind spots or outright bigotry of those within the movement. The result is an invaluable single volume about this portion of US environmental history.

[Bradley · Rating 3 out of 5]

As I often encounter with academic-led histories, this was at times extremely interesting, with fascinating nuggets of detail (Harriett Tubman re-imagined— rightly— as a wilderness expert, for instance) but at other times it could also feel like a list of facts without a lot of unifying synthesis or deeper dives into characters and narratives in the history that might help the reader better feel and experience the world Taylor imagines.

[Gregory · Rating 3 out of 5]

There have been many books about the motivations of the conservation leaders in the late 19th and early 20th century. In this book, Taylor explains the role of the city on the elites who led the conservation movement.

[Graise · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anyone and everyone who has even the most remote interest in conservation should read this book.

[Linda · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good overview of the origins and history of the American conservation movement.

[Peter Szabo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Perhaps the most important book about the conservation movement in many years. Taylor is the first to widen the frame around the movement, expanding the oft-told legends of the establishment of Yellowstone, John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, etc., to encompass the roles and links of communities of color to conservation, and critical perspectives on the "establishment" view of history. Your mind will be broadened by this book. You may feel saddened and even ashamed in parts. But you will also come away incredibly inspired, by the courage of the author and by the stories she tells.

I gave this four stars instead of five because in parts the writing stretches a little too broadly. But the impact is fully felt by the end of the book.

[Ietrio · Rating 2 out of 5]

A terribly long, wordy, dry, scholastic text. It can be mostly used as a reference for more dry, scholastic texts.