Paper prepared for the "Cultural Aspects of Caring/Cultural Constructions of Nature" session of the 8^th ISSRM, "Transcending Boundaries: Natural Resource Management from Summit to Sea,"

Bellingham, June 17-22

Hidden assumptions about culture are embedded in our cultural discourses and resource management institutions. Such assumptions are like lenses – they shape how we perceive social reality. As scholars and managers who are trying to understand conflicts in resource use, it is important to make these lenses visible, i.e., to look at a society’s cultural lenses rather than through them, to acknowledge, understand, and question the assumptions we have about our cultural milieu.

Such lenses are relatively easy to see in relation to gender (as has been described so well by Sandra Bem in her seminal work, The Lenses of Gender, 1993). In this paper, I expand the discussion to natural resource-related issues using some of Bem's principles.

Central to this discussion is an understanding of the lenses of culturocentrism, i.e., taking the dominant culture’s experience as the norm, and other culture’s experiences as deviations or "other." Also informative are ideas concerning culture polarization, i.e., the insidious use of perceived differences in culture as an organizing principle for social life and resource management, for example, subsistence management in Alaska or processes such as the way in which knowledge is transferred (oral vs. written traditions) or depicted (in mapping) and indeed many other aspects of human experience.

What I am talking about is not (in geographer David Livingstone's words) a "crude reductionism that sees ideas as nothing but the epiphenomena of social prejudices" (1992: 27), i.e., a mere difference in beliefs, perspectives, or ideas. I am getting at something much more noxious -- the lenses that shape not only perceptions of social and environmental reality but also the more material things -- like creation of national parks and salmon policy -- that constitute social reality itself.

An illustration of how fundamental and pervasive are such lenses can be seen with the following exercise. It serves as an excellent example of the culturocentrist lens in operation.

For heterogeneous groups in the United States, answers follow a typical pattern: privileged individuals usually respond with what they do for a living (rather than saying "I am white, male, and heterosexual"); less privileged/dominant individuals may respond with "I am black, gay, a woman, an Indian, or a mother." The lens of the dominant group takes its own life/physical characteristics as the norm.

Given the intrinsic and pervasive nature of such lenses, it is important for "otherized" groups to look at the lenses of the dominant culture rather than through them to understand more about themselves and their status in society.

This draft is meant to serve as a discussion paper and draws heavily from the work of a few authors: Sandra Bem, applying her ideas on "the lenses of gender" to "the lenses of culture," the work of geographer David Livingstone, sociologist Will Wright, activist Marilyn Waring, and community college teacher Sandra Campbell. A main objective of the paper is to suggest ideas for testing cultural assumptions and, ipso facto, reconstructing cultural identities. For specific examples I will refer to cultural constructions that use hidden assumptions behind, for example, social instruments and theories and economic measures of development, as well as various natural resources management practices -- the focus of this conference.

Examples of cultural constructions abound (some are itemized below). The implications of each are profound, in terms of the role they play in constructing social and environmental reality, and contributing to inequalities within both.

• varying cultural worldviews -- For example, a cross-culture comparison between Alaska Native and Modern Western European views shows the Alaska Native to be comfortable with silence, have slower-paced speech, show public restraint, live in an Elder-oriented society, and have a strong commitment to the future. This is in contrast to the western European view that dislikes silence, admires rapid verbal exchange, needs public recognition, lives in a youth-oriented society, and has no commitment to the future (LaPointe, 1995, cited in Ashton, 1996). As Kawagley (1995, cited in Ashton, 1996: 3) states in reference to concerns about planning and village design/construction, "The Yupiaq worldview of harmony with one's surroundings was reinforced by the construction of houses and storage shelters made of natural materials, so as to be one with and of nature...This value of being with and of nature gave a social identity to the Yupiaq, which is in contrast to the geometric detachment reflected in the design of villages today."
• different cultural values ascribed to (different kinds of) time -- In modern, capitalistic cultures, the only time which has "value" is time spent in producing and contributing to the Gross National Product. Leisure time, or time spent in housework or child care has no value; it is not worth anything (also see, "justification for dominant economic systems," below). This is not necessarily the case for Indian or Alaska Native cultures in which there may be little distinction between work and leisure activities (also see Berger's Village Journey: The Report of the Alaska Native Review Commission, 1985).

• two divergent realities regarding traditional hunting grounds in historic and contemporary northeastern British Columbia as given with maps -- the cannibalistic dreams and plans of the dominant culture, and the maps the Indians made to show the tenacity and perhaps evolution, of a viable hunting and trapping economy (see Brody's excellent work, Maps and Dreams (1981)).

• varying definitions of wilderness -- Wilderness, in U.S. policy circles, had been defined by the Wilderness Act of 1964 as "...an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.. [It is] without human habitation." When the Alaskan National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA) was passed, the definition/construction/conceptualization had to be changed to accommodate and include Natives living on the land and traditional subsistence uses. Herein is the conflict, with as Dear calls it (2000, 1) "social-psychological conceptions of [wilderness] experiences" and "the complexity of interpretation and enforcement of statutorily-defined Wilderness."

• construction of eugenics, sterilization, superior race -- held that there would be a decrease in the intelligence of a race if certain people were allowed to reproduce, begging questions re: the construction of intelligence. Discussed further in Bem (1993, Chapter 2).
• construction of IQ tests -- IQ tests, which were considered by some to be a measure of inborn intelligence, is a good example of bio-cultural theorizing. This is indicated by the accolade delivered by Carl Brigham from Princeton, the designer of the Scholastic Aptitude Test: The results (of the test) indicate the "genuine intellectual superiority of the Nordic group." Discussed further in Bem (1993, Chapter 2).

• construction of conservation of energy -- the first law of thermodynamics (holding that the total amount of energy in a system remains constant) was used to naturalize a number of nineteenth century beliefs including that people should not indulge immoderately in any one activity or else one wouldn't have enough energy for anything else. Discussed further in Bem (1993, Chapter 2).
• construction of higher education -- by which it was once believed that higher education was not suitable for women because it took away energy from the development of reproductive organs to the development of the brain (advanced by Edward Clarke in Sex in Education in 1873). This was in fact a reaction to two related social changes -- the increasing number of colleges opening its doors to women and women having fewer children. Discussed further in Bem (1993, Chapter 2).
• construction of the second law of thermodynamics -- also has an interesting popular interpretation, namely, imparting social and moral meaning and direction to evolution. This view holds that evolution eventually produces women nurturers and men competitors, so that, for example, women should not vote because they would want to give aid to people who should not receive it (who would be unable to survive in the struggle for existence). Discussed further in Bem (1993, Chapter 2).
• seminal work from geography on the genderizing of soil science -- in Central Europe in the 1930s, highlighting the development of ideas about productivity and reproduction using a gender lens.

• work on the regional geography of ethnic character -- exposed and developed by David Livingstone, translated into racial policies (on the topic of acclimatization, and how to survive in the tropics) and exposing a moral topography (as Livingstone discusses (1992), citing the work of Joseph Thomson, explorer and geographer, in his travels in East Africa, "It is a fact worthy of our attention that, as the traveler passes up the river [Niger] and finds a continually improving climate...he coincidentally observes a higher type of humanity -- better-ordered communities, more comfort, with more industry."

• construction of productivity or work that counts -- as given by Marilyn Waring in her eloquent treatise on how the economic landscape is indeed a battlefield in terms of interpretation, writing in the prologue to her book, Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth (1999:1), "During my terms as a Member of the New Zealand Parliament from 1975 to 1984...I learned that, in the UNSNA (United Nations System of National Accounts], the things that I valued about life in my country -- its pollution-free environment; its mountain streams with safe drinking water; the accessibility of national parks, walkways, beaches, lakes, kauri and beech forests; the absence of nuclear power and nuclear energy -- all counted for nothing...Since the environment effectively counted for nothing there could be no "value" on policy measures that would ensure its preservation [similarly for...] housewives, mothers who are "inactive" and "unoccupied" cannot, apparently be in need...They can certainly have no expectation that they will be visible in the distribution of benefits that flow from production."

In terms of natural resources management, a body of work exists looking at the cultural lens being used in constructing myths in the battle for public sentiment surrounding resource-extractive communities (Berger and Luckmann, 1966; Tuchman, 1968). Such myths or narratives are used to affirm the legitimacy of certain groups in having rights of access to a natural resource (woods for harvest or spotted owl nesting sites) (Berardi, 1993:159). Resulting from such activities are ideas concerning "moral exclusion" suggesting the powerful emotional and cognitive meaning of such myths (Mazur and Lee, 1991; Szasz, 1992). The environment in which this takes place, the ancient forest, is itself a great element of mythology (seen as a primordial, pristine landscape vs. a successional community resulting from the last devastating burn).

Lee (1992) argues that Northwest timber conflicts can now be seen in fact in terms of a struggle over legitimization of competing moral communities, a wood production coalition vs. an environmental coalition. These moral communities use many assumptions, or lenses, some of which are not so hidden.

Lenses are indeed powerful. They represent not a mere difference of opinion or perspective but pervasive belief systems that allow a very limited interpretation of the social and environmental landscape. They result not from some carefully weighed views, considerations, and information gathering but from a deep-seated socialization process.

Further, the lens are hidden. We see through them rather then at them. They, in effect, form the base of a belief system that can be represented by yet another metaphor -- the base of an iceberg. This base is submerged yet critical to the perspective -- it forms the foundation on which all else rests.

I contend that we can recognize our lenses only through little epiphanies, cases that seem to hit a nerve, to prompt what Howard Gardner (1983) and others who study creativity call, the "ah-ha." One such "ah-ha" occurred recently when I was publicizing a student work-program for this conference to a group of juniors and graduating seniors in geography. The publicity for the program highlights the $250-value (the price of registration) students receive who work 16 hours at the conference. Dinners are provided, including a salmon dinner. Upon mentioning that, a student commented, "What a joke -- having a salmon dinner here [in the Pacific Northwest]. Last year, we had a huge salmon dinner and I thought it was really ironic." The class smiled and nodded their heads; they concurred.

I couldn't quite understand what the students were concerned about. Did they think that all salmon were threatened? Did they not know that eating salmon is critical to the survival of Indian nations co-inhabiting this land, and that those nations have stockpiles of salmon, frozen, for weekly community dinners? Traditional Native groups and tribes in fact consume salmon in this same region all the time. Salmon is synonymous with survival and practices of resource management have evolved over time to ensure the survival of traditional practices. Yet nothing I could say would dissuade the students from their concern regarding a salmon dinner at a natural resources conference in the Pacific Northwest. Clearly, both the students and myself have internalized assumptions or lenses and have built myths consistent with them -- from childhood. Cultural values result.

The transmission of information is accomplished every time the pattern-seeking child is exposed to a culturally significant social practice (Bem, 1993: 141) and tries to generalize from it. Bem, for example, writes about the child observing others wearing a wristwatch that tells the time precisely to the nearest minute. Messages regarding the importance of time, keeping time, and making time, result. The value of time, to the minute, is what is being communicated to the young child. Other cultures may have a different method of organizing the day, and into entirely different units. Differing resource consumption patterns, based on highly varying beliefs of the value of time, may result.

Another cultural value worth looking at is the strong individualism typical of white, middle-class society in the United States, which is, in fact, linked to differing perspectives on time (among other things). This cultural value is so strong that communal ownership of, say, even a lawn mower would be unthinkable for many, in part, because it might compromise the availability of time (Bem, 1993: 143). And thus, private ownership as a cultural trait is commonplace, inherent, and embedded. The dominant culture is a highly individualistic one, and a greedy one at that. Time is money, literally. Energy substitutes for time, also resulting in differing resource consumption patterns as well as the production of wastes and contaminants.

Such assumptions or lenses help to propagate societal ways of being and behaving (time-saving, individualistic) that seem so normal and natural that alternative ways of being and behaving rarely even emerge (Bem, 1993: 152). People take these ways of being and living for granted. It easily becomes part of the culture that we do not question.

The burden of proof is on each individual minority, conservationist, or independent thinker to prove otherwise, to demonstrate to the dominant culture why the other system is more socially or environmentally inherent or deserving. Not to do so is hazardous to our social and environmental health for, as Bem points out, when these myths and values are institutionalized by the dominant culture, they "can have extraordinary political power both for cultural oppression and for the resistance to cultural oppression." (Bem, 1993: 175)

Cultural redefinitions are threatening to the dominant culture, primarily because they may involve relinquishing power and privilege in a social community that will result in, say, less powerful cash economies and more powerful (protected?) subsistence ones (p. 167). Anyone who reverses such components of the cultural script is a renegade. For example, by choosing a lifestyle of voluntary simplicity vs. unbridled consumerism in a capitalistic culture, people in effect, "challenge the presumed naturalness of the link between" (167) how people use the environment and the ecological health status of the system. In so doing, such renegades must find a way to construct a cultural identity, a viable identity in a society that routinely denies them any legitimacy whatsoever. Such cultural nonconformists are often pathologized.

Interestingly, a not uncommon response by the privileged is to normalize the apparently deviant behavior so that, for example, all resource extraction becomes "sustainable." This is also a good example of one of the many ways in which privileged social institutions transform cultural difference into cultural disadvantage.(177)

Two examples of published work that provide a look at deconstructing current cultural mythologies and ideologies are Marilyn Waring’s Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth (1999)(mentioned earlier in this paper) focused on the lenses used in the current system of calculating worth and wealth and work, and Will Wright’s Wild Knowledge (1992) which explores the movement from the language of ecology to the ecology of language and how to challenge the legitimacy of established cultural institutions (with "wild" vs. "tame" language) (1992: 194). To do this, Wright argues that language must impose a necessary formal structure upon knowledge and social life, rather than magical cultural "truths." Language is powerful since language both reflects and structures human experience, and this knowledge and reason must be issues of language, issues that refer to the necessary formal conditions for human life (1992: 196-198).

This is a debate not only, then, on markets, profit, and social justice, but also on critical access, rationality, and ecological legitimization (Wright, 1992: 216). A "wild," ecological rationality then results from the reflexive necessity of legitimating critical differences of identity, values, and perspectives. It is only through a commitment to wild knowledge that sustainable social institutions can be legitimated (1992: 218-219).

We also can intellectualize this activity, and search for historical roots, as Bem urges, in her work on the historical development of certain cultural practices and identity. Such study helps the otherized to look at the lenses of the dominant culture, rather than through them, by simply asking the questions -- at what point in time was this simply not so, to help develop what Bem calls, "an oppositional consciousness" (1993: 169). It is critical for other groups and other systems to challenge the meaning assigned to them by the dominant culture, challenging in effect the very neutrality of the dominant perspective.

Drawing from my experience in working with tribes in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska Native communities, I understand that there are words which do not make sense in at least some tribal cultures – "natural," "resource," and "management." Other words, such as "subsistence," seem to have been derived from Native cultures yet are, also, a dominant construction. In Alaska, for example, there is no word meaning "subsistence." The closest word is "survival."

As an exercise, then, I suggest that managers substitute the word, "survival" for "subsistence," to highlight the absurdity or meaninglessness of the word -- "survival hunting," "survival fishing," "survival activities." Using "survival" underscores the singular importance of the term and the need for Native control and management.

Yet another simple exercise is to practice changing the name of our National Science Foundation-funded program -- from the Tribal Environmental and Natural Resources Management program (TENRM) and learning community in which I teach, to simply "ENRM." Why use the descriptor "tribal?" Using the descriptor highlights the culturocentrism, i.e., taking the dominant culture’s experience as the norm, and other culture’s experiences as deviations or "other" at play. Why differentiate between "tribal" and "non-tribal" management? Who wins and who loses with such a designation?

Practically speaking, what are some checks or exercises for recognizing our cultural lens?

• by spending many hours with each other, in conversation (as we have done with a tribal

natural resources management program, discussed elsewhere at this conference, also see Robbins at al, 1999)

• by hearing each other's stories, engaging in dialogue, and affirming what we are

truly hearing from other cultures

• by then deactivating bad dendrites as discussed in Rita Smilkstein's excellent work, "How the

Brain Learns: Research, Theory, and Classroom Application" (1999). In this paper, Smilkstein discusses: the physiological process of learning and how best to grow the neural networks that are both the prerequisite and result of successful learning; how we learn what we practice in terms of new ways of seeing, and that this takes time; and that our emotions affect the brain's ability to learn, think, and remember different ideas and different perspectives.

According to English as a Second Language teacher Sandy Campbell of Lake Washington Technical College (from whom some of the material in this paper is derived), perhaps one of the main challenges for scholars, managers, and educators is not to understand other cultures so much as to understand ourselves. Ideally perhaps, we may reach the point when the distinction between wage and subsistence labor and life styles, between tribal and nontribal resource management, and between varying listening and learning styles no longer exists. Mine is thus a rather humanistic concern, and allows for diverse ways of relating to the world at large.

What I am suggesting is not merely a social revolution but, as Bem describes, a profoundly psychological one in rearranging social institutions and reconstructing cultural discourses. It reaches much further than a consideration of mere differences of opinion or bias. It is the psychological revolution so necessary to truly change our personal sense of who we are, where we are, and what we can become.

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