The case of the sinister dam

The Hetch Hetchy decision was the beginning, not the end. Curiously, many of the great wilderness struggles since Hetch Hetchy have had the same general outline: the argument is often about a dam proposed for a site in a national park or protected area. "In the view of the conservationists, there is something special about dams," wrote author John McPhee, "Something ... metaphysically sinister." David Brower, longtime head of the Sierra Club put it succinctly: "I hate all dams, large and small. If you are against a dam, you are for a river."

In 1913, the time of the Hetch Hetchy decision, only a handful of conservation organizations existed; 40 years later the number was over 300. And in 1954 they all mobilized for war.

This time the dam was proposed for Echo Park - part of the Dinosaur National Monument on the colorado-Utah border. Again the integrity of the National Park system was at stake. Again the dam's opponents, led by David Brower of the Sierra Club, took their case directly to the public. The wilderness advocates saturated the presss with anti-dam advertisements, produced a cautionary film (Two Yosemites), and a book This is Dinosaur . The public- relations campaign was massive and the public response unparalleled - mail to members of Congress ran 80-1 against the dam.

This time the preservationists won. After five years of public pressure, the project's backers caved in. Ironically, it was the well-honed political skills of the environmentalists - in theory the group without political clout that carried the day. A member of the House Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs said the proponents of the dam had "neither the money nor the organization to cope with the resources and mailing lists" of the preservationists.

The Dinosaur debate had many familiar elements. Congressmen constantly expressed ambivalence, citing the difficulty of choosing between two Goods. The wild canyon was undoubtedly a good thing; but so were water, light and food for the desolate southwest. Similarly, preservationists were reluctant to denigrate dams in general, or dismiss the whole of progress. What had come to the surface again was a characteristically American duality. Paired contradictions such as Beauty and Utility, or Religion and Science can often occupy twin places of honor in the American pantheon. One pair that has much affected wilderness in the 20th century is the will to master the wild yoked to the desire to worship it; progress and preservation. As author and environmentalist Wallace Stegner wrote, "No other nation on Earth so swiftly wasted its birthright; no other, in time, made such an effort to save what was left."

After Dinosaur, preservationists began to press for an umbrella bill that would create a national system of wilderness protection. The Wilderness Act had a rough passage, with Congress spending eight years debating and revising the measure. The final enactment was largely the result of one man's tireless devotion: Howard Zahniser of the Wilderness Society plugged the initial idea, wrote the original draft, saw the bill through no fewer than 66 rewrites, spoke to all 18 hearings only to die four months before his beloved brainchild became law.