Environmentalism and Gennargentu National Park

“Transnational NGOs now have increasing authority in the interpretation and administration of environmental governance worldwide (Chapin 2004; Campbell 2005; Goldman 2005; West et al. 2006). The World Wide Fund for Nature has become a principle partner mediating the environmentalist visions and policies of the European Union. Involved in a series of projects associated with parks and conservation across Italy and Sardinia, the WWF produces visual narratives of environmentalism on the web, for example, which profoundly affect how nature and culture come to be viewed in a global dreamtime of environmental futures. More importantly, they have taken on a role in mediating the cultural identities of Sardinians and others who are seen as obstacles to the realization of environmentalist goals. These cultures are often see as too rooted in the local to perceive the promise of an ecologically minded global village. These negative stereotypes provide justification for attempts at the ‘public education’ of local residents who stand opposed to the conservation frameworks championed by powerful outsiders” (Heatherington 2010: 137-8)

In the highlands of Sardinia, the establishment of Gennargentu National Park created waves of dissent among local villagers who believed it would hinder their “free continuation of hunting, woodcutting, tourism development, and pastoral herding” (Heatherington 2010: 4). In response, those advocating for the park found it easy to market local inhabitants as ‘backwards’ and thus unable to understand the benefits of such a park. Tracey Heatherington’s book “Wild Sardinia: Indigeneity and the Global Dreamtimes of Environmentalsim” finds itself at the nexus of these contrasting viewpoints and the inherent power dynamics.

Heatherington’s book asks us to be wary of a global environmentalist narrative. As the quote above suggests, images of beautiful mountains, or island atolls surrounded by crystal clear waters advertise these environments as untouched, and ask us to keep them that way. With a fortress conservation strategy (i.e., this area must be protected, nobody can enter), those who have traditionally had access to these ‘untouched’ (read: carefully managed by humans for generations) areas are shut out. Of course, this is a complicated issues that never pans out in the simple terms I am using now. Heatherington’s book gives us a case in which locals are fighting desperately to combat the images WWF displays about their land and about themselves.

I’m sure the organization Survival International would love to tell you all about the wrongs of WWF and fortress conservation. If WWF is the champion of wildlife, Survival International is a champion of humanity and locals similar to the Sardinians in Heatherington’s book. Unfortunately, Survival and WWF have been at each others throats for awhile now, even when what the world needs most is a collaboration between the two.

FYI: Gennargentu National Park is now an established park. The efforts of locals to combat its creation fell through in the end. If you have ever visited, or wish to visit, please keep in mind the contested history of the place.

References:

Heatherington, T. 2010. Wild Sardinia: Indigeneity & the Global Dreamtimes of Environmentalism. Seattle, WA: Univ. of Washington Press.

Campbell, B. 2005. Introduction: Changing policies and ethnographies of environmental engagement. Conservation and Society 3 (2): 280-322.

Chapin, M. 2004. A challenge to conservationists. WorldWatch, November/December 2004, 17-31.

Goldman, M. 1998. Privatizing nature: Political struggles for global commons. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.

West, P., Igoe, J., Brockington, D. 2006. Parks and peoples: The social impact of protected areas. Annual Review of Anthropology 3 5:2 51-77.

Reflections on Gaelic Culture in the Hebrides

“The Hebrides had won a central place in European culture, but one tightly circumscribed by the defining characteristic of loss. The vitality of its Gaelic culture was subject to ignorance, indifference and prejudice. Its understanding of the relationship with land and place, and its culture of community, represented a profoundly different world view, and was pushed aside – or was actively suppressed – in a painful process of loss and conflict” (Bunting 2016: 128)

Madeline Bunting’s travel narrative set in the Hebrides (islands off of Scotland’s west coast, pronounced heb-rid-ees) explores not only the natural beauty of these seemingly remote islands, but also the intense romanticization, imperialism and cultural appropriation that has shaped the perception of them over the years. Bunting mixes history with her own feelings to understand her place and the place of her country within these Scottish isles in her book Love of Country.

This book is not an anthropological text, but rather more historical, philosophical and reflective. This does not mean that it is not useful to anthropologists. Travel narratives have been used by many anthropologists to contemplate perception. A good example of this is Julie Cruikshank’s Do Glaciers Listen, where she contrasts colonial explorers’ narratives to indigenous ones, emphasizing the different ways in which nature is perceived.

The quote above is placed among a larger discussion of 18th century Scotland and its relationship to Britain as a whole. What happened to the Gaels in Scotland mirrors what happened to many groups of people worldwide. At worst, Gaels were suppressed, seen as barbaric, evicted from their land, and at times killed because of the culture they followed. At best they were ignored. However, while the rest of Britain looked down on their northern compatriots, they deeply admired the landscapes in which they lived. Today, Bunting explains, Scotland continues to be romantically marketed to tourists as a sublime travel destination, wild and uninhabited. This perception of Scotland is reminiscent of the 18th century ignorance of the people who live in these places: “The Romanitc tourist’s gaze represented a cultural disruption; it ignored or averted its eyes form the impoverished inhabitants to celebrate the beauty of the natural forms” (Bunting 2016: 125).

In fact, today many of these islands are largely uninhabited, or at least hold very scarce populations, but only seeing the beauty of the landscape and ignoring the harsh history that has rendered them uninhabited is a sure mark of an ignorant tourist. In her chapter on the island Rum, Bunting explains what has become known as ‘the Clearances,’ or the forceful evictions of the Hebridean inhabitants in the early 1800’s.

Bunting does a great job at portraying both the beautiful and the ugly dimensions of travel in the Hebrides. She contemplates her own role in visiting these islands: “I recognize Romanticism’s erasure of the Gaelic past, but find myself caught still within its tradition. I appreciate how it has inspired me to begin the search for place, but increasingly acknowledge that it is a deceptive guide” (Bunting 2016: 129). Although not a text inspired by anthropological theory and thought, it definitely reminisces on important anthropological ideas.

A bleary yet lovely morning in Kinloch Rannoch, a small town in the Highlands of Scotland.

References:

Bunting, M. 2016. Love of Country: A Hebridean Journey. London, UK: Granta.

Cruikshank, J. 2005. Do Glaciers Listen? Local Knowledge, Colonial Encounters, and Social Imagination. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press