Tony Ruckel in the Alaska Range, Denali National Park. Photo by Nancy Olmstead.
By Tony Ruckel
So, Pat and I got to talking…. A thought arose: Maybe, as the “old guy” around here, I could lend some perspective to our current predicament; that there may be helpful lessons my years of experiences have taught me (and that I may remember them!) sufficient to my purpose here. If so, maybe I could pass some observations along to you younger guys, the players in today’s environmental law struggles. Maybe I could provide some historical perspective. And after all, if firsthand lessons and experiences of yore are to be offered and appraised, you pretty much have to rely upon some old guys.
So I agreed to take a crack at it.
We developed the conversation: the Trump administration and the trouble we expect. How many steps backward might be taken as the regime turns its back on science, on common sense, on the condition of the planet. How are we environmental lawyers going to cope; or more to the point, how are we going to be in the forefront of the struggle, helping lead the way ahead, while maintaining our vaunted morale—ours and our clients’—as we fight daily in the trenches?
At first I groped about, trying to organize my thoughts. What was important for me to say? What was less important and could be postponed? What reminiscences, what observations, would have value to you, and how would I avoid the appearance of an old guy telling today’s players what to do—particularly since the time has passed when this old guy has the energy and stamina to step up to the plate, hit the ball, and run the bases? Well, let’s see….
First off, while it may seem prosaic to say things will get better, that the pendulum will again swing our way, it is nonetheless true. We survived the environmental hostility of the Reagan administration in the early 1980s. Again and again through the last 50+ years, we activists have protected Grand Canyon National Park and the land around it, and the threats there do not really wax and wane—they proceed pretty much continuously at full throttle. And one can say the same for many of our parks, wilderness areas, and forests—our public lands.
Our air and water are cleaner now than they were in 1970, when meaningful pollution control statutes were first enacted, but the number of times we have had to carry the fight back to Congress, and daily, doggedly advance the agenda in the courts, are beyond counting. We have learned that our wildlife is only as safe as our advocacy is unrelenting. “Alternative energy” solutions have grown and spread because we press this agenda relentlessly and because we reliably, determinedly rebound from setbacks.
The list goes on.
We do all this well for many reasons, but one is absolutely critical and blesses us with singular strength: that ornery, opinionated, loud, quarrelsome, occasionally outrageous entity, the client, the citizen activist, and the individual members of Sierra Club. This is where it starts for us as lawyers.
Reflect for a moment: Who do you want beside you in the trenches? Erudite drawing-room companions versed in the nuances of fine chardonnays, or fearless, committed, pertinacious, bruised and bloodied survivors—a collection of fighters whose ability to bounce back from adversity again and again is the stuff of legend? We know the answer. Furthermore, these folks are counting on us lawyers; they feel they can’t do without us—and they’re right. And hard as it may be to grasp much of the time, they love you guys—truly! So, the client thing, with 50+ years of history through good times and bad, is set. Draw strength for them as they draw strength from you.
We environmental lawyers are a critical part of a process; a continuum; an ethic which may be more real to someone who has been doing it for half a century. This is worth emphasizing. Take a starting point, any starting point, in the 1960s, and ask yourself: Are we not better off today? Do we not now have a better environmental ethic across our society and our political and judicial systems (the aberrant current occupant of the White House and his henchmen aside)?
This “environmental presence” has not survived adversity and challenging, difficult times by stepping back from the periodic excesses and abuses of the political world. Quite the contrary: We have protected the Grand Canyon, Redwood National Park, more than a hundred million acres of wilderness, our air and water, and endangered critters by the score. We have enacted fine laws protecting and advancing the quality of our environment precisely because we have been there. We have not broken the thread of advocacy—our heritage of environmental jurisprudence—nor have we permitted it to grow weak and frayed from disuse and half-hearted effort. Because of this we enjoy renewed success when times change and possibilities again become auspicious.
Finally—and this is important—our professional pride, even our honor, is invoked. The system is counting on us precisely because we are ideally positioned to preserve the “thread” in difficult times. Using time-tested legal procedures and the rules of evidence, we are uniquely positioned to probe for and reveal facts and consequences regardless of the noise and mindless clamor around us.
And maybe, just maybe, the stands we take and the cases we argue become most significant when times are darkest. Is this not also part of the tradition of the law? I’m actually envious of you younger guys carrying on the fight boldly, aggressively, and competently in the current hostile political environment.
Go get em!
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H. Anthony “Tony” Ruckel began practicing environmental law in 1967. He served as a Regional Director and staff attorney for the Sierra Club Legal Defense Fund from 1972 to 1986, and on the Club’s Board of Directors from 1990-1993 and 1996-1998. He currently serves on the volunteer committee of lawyers advising the Sierra Club’s legal program. Ruckel continues to explore and photograph the country’s parks, monuments, and wilderness areas, particularly those in the American West. The author of Voices for the Earth, an inside account of how citizens preserved national treasures across the West, he has climbed all 54 of Colorado's 14,000-foot summits.