[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 5]
[Senate]
[Pages 7192-7194]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                            THE GREEN SCARE

  Mr. MURKOWSKI. Mr. President, our collective national memory is still 
haunted by images from the so-called ``McCarthy Era.'' This was a time 
in the middle of the last century when ``The Red Scare'' came to 
dominate both the headlines and the national consciousness, a time when 
no stone was left unturned in the search for the Communists beneath 
them.
  Truth took a back seat during ``The Red Scare,'' with the result that 
innocent and guilty alike had their rights trampled upon, and an 
entirely proper investigation became an exercise in hysteria. During 
``The Red Scare'' we lost track of the facts and got wrapped-up in the 
emotions of the time.
  The United States is now entering into an energy crisis. Demand for 
power is up and supplies are, if not down, at least not keeping up with 
that demand. As an example, gasoline prices are over $2 a gallon, and 
the hot weather and travel season aren't even here yet, Mr. President!
  We all know there's a real power crisis in the State of California. 
How it came about is well-documented and need not occupy us here today. 
Suffice it to say, all the elements conspired to come together at the 
right time and in the right place--much like the events told in ``The 
Perfect Storm''--and this disaster is now upon us.
  How are we going to get out of it, or, at least, mitigate the worst 
of its effects? How do we get there from here? I submit we are neither 
going to exclusively drill our way out of it, nor are we going to 
exclusively conserve our way out of it. Both those options may look 
good on paper, but they are doomed to failure in the real world.
  This body is about to come to grips with designing a national energy 
policy. It will be an interesting time for us, as we work to blend 
effective conservation measures with ways to ensure that we have the 
power sources we need. It is my hope that this plan will be based on 
sound science, not on emotions or slogans. If it's not, it's eyewash, 
not worth the paper the headlines it would generate are written on.
  Mr. President, there is a five-part series entitled ``Environment 
Inc.,'' which ran between April 22 and April 26, 2001, in the 
``Sacramento Bee'' newspaper.
  This series was written by a ``Bee'' reporter named Tom Knudson. Mr. 
Knudson has won two Pulitzer Prices for his writing on environmental 
issues.
  This series examines the high-powered fund raising machine that now 
characterizes much of today's Corporate Environmental Culture, a 
machine that increasingly funds, not environmental conservation 
efforts, but an unceasing flow of litigation and a spreading spill of 
public relations efforts. Conservation organizations have, themselves, 
become big businesses, complete with fund raising consultants and 
tremendous salaries.
  Annual salaries for the heads of 9 of the 10 largest environmental 
groups now top $200,000; one makes over $300,000 a year. In 1997, and I 
quote here: ``. . . one group fired its president and awarded him a 
severance payment of $760,335.'' We don't see television ads of fat 
cats in their high-rise offices or swilling martinis in ritzy hotels. 
The article notes that some are now calling the Sierra Club, ``Club 
Sierra.'' John Muir would be appalled, I think.
  Make no mistake about it, the Corporate Environmental Culture has 
raised a lot of money. Direct mail efforts. It boggles the mind to 
think that anyone would give money to a group that sends out millions 
of paper brochures asking for money to save the rain forest. 
Telemarketing efforts. ``Send us money or the Jenkins Warbler goes 
extinct on the 27th of next month.''
  This series points out that, and I quote:

       Six national environmental groups spend so much money on 
     fund raising and overhead they don't have enough left to meet 
     the minimum benchmark for environmental spending--60 percent 
     of annual expenses--recommended by charity watchdog 
     organizations.

  Many--although, in fairness, not all--of these groups use an 
accounting loophole--and again I quote:

     to classify millions of dollars spend on direct mail and 
     telemarketing not as fund raising, but as public education 
     and environmental activism!

  If a citizen wants to give a few bucks to Club Sierra, that's not 
properly any of our business, is it? But increasingly, this series 
points out, environmental groups are inundating the courts with 
endangered species lawsuits. Such suits have become one of their basic 
tools. Even if there's no chance they'll win, they can tie up projects 
in courts for years on end.
  Every time the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service misses a deadline, a 
lawsuit follows like a hungry duckling waddling after its mother. 
Increasingly, the Service will tell you they are devoting more and more 
of their time and resources to fighting lawsuits, which leaves less and 
less time for the wildlife biology that is the Service's proper 
business.
  Why would groups suppposedly dedicated to conservation behave this 
way? Increasingly evidence suggests this onslaught of suits might well 
have its

[[Page 7193]]

roots in the Almighty Dollar and the pursuit thereof. A lawyer who wins 
one of these ``citizen suits'' is entitled to a refund of his or her 
attorney fees from the taxpayers. These attorneys typically charge $150 
to $350 an hour. The series notes that, and again I quote:

       When California water districts won a suit . . . last year, 
     they submitted a bill for $546,403.70 to the government. The 
     Justice Department was stunned.

  It gets worse. There is increasing evidence that environmental groups 
are misusing science. They are behaving the way a fellow who tries to 
sell you a used toothbrush behaves, that is, they tell the truth, but 
they don't tell the whole truth. Here's an example from the series 
relating to necessary thinning programs in national forests.

       The buildup of fuels in Western forests was a prominent 
     topic in the 1996 Sierra Nevada Ecosystem Project report, a 
     3,187-page scientific assessment of the California mountain 
     range.
       Citing a remarkable accumulation of vegetation and 
     deadwood, the $6.5 million, congressionally funded report 
     warned of a fiery future--unless overcrowded stands were 
     thinned soon.
       One suggested remedy was small-tree logging, followed by 
     prescribed fire. `Logging can serve as a tool to help reduce 
     fire hazard,' it stated.
       Environmental groups overlooked that part of the report.
       Instead, they plucked one sentence from thousands to argue 
     that all logging is bad. Here's how the National Forest 
     Protection Alliance, a consortium of activists, used the 
     report last fall in an action alert, under the heading, 
     ``What the Government's Own Scientists Say about Logging and 
     Wildfires'': ``Timber harvest, through its effects on forest 
     structure, local microclimate and fuels accumulation has 
     increased fire severity more than any other recent human 
     activity.''

  One fire scientist who helped write the report notes that the excerpt 
refers to historic logging that left Western forests littered with 
woody debris--not modern thinning designed to clean up such debris. 
Informed of this, a network coordinator for the forest alliance, said: 
``This is the most popular fact we have. It is a quote congresspeople 
have used.''
  Well, that settles that for all time, doesn't it, Mr. President?
  I submit that our national energy policy is increasingly being 
affected not by scientific fact and the best interests of the country, 
but by the same type of hysteria and misinformation we saw when truth 
took a back seat during ``The Red Scare'' of 50 years ago.
  During ``The Red Scare'' we lost track of the facts and got wrapped-
up in emotion. During ``The Green Scare,'' which we're going through 
now, we're giving ourselves over to hysteria yet again. This present-
day hysteria is fed by a bloated, inefficient environmental industry, 
absorbed by its pursuit of money and devoted to the preservation, not 
of the natural environment, but of its own high rise, martini-swilling 
corporate lifestyle. There is a sizeable body of evidence that 
Environment, Inc. is willing to abandon truth and science, even the 
very reason for its existence, in pursuit of a buck. It is a movement 
that has lost its soul.
  There's a bright side to all this. First of all, the word is getting 
out. Thanks to people like Tom Knudson, the author of the ``Environment 
Inc.'' series and to concerned people in an out of the environmental 
movement, more and more people are coming to realize they've bought 
that used toothbrush we talked about before. As our population soars 
and demands upon our eco-system accelerate, there is much real 
environmental work to be done.
  I will conclude where Mr. Knudson's series concludes, with the coming 
thing in environmentalism, a movement both new and rooted in the very 
origins of environmentalism. Everyday ``garden-variety'' 
environmentalists are bringing ``more science, entrepreneurial skill, 
accountability, teamwork, and results to a movement they say has grown 
self-righteous, inefficient, chaotic, and shrill.'' The Nature 
Conservancy, the Conservation Fund, and other groups are focusing, not 
on their offices and attorney fees, but on protecting land and on 
restoring it. These groups are making allowances for necessary 
development.
  This represents a maturing of the environmental movement, a 
realization that it is fire not smoke that counts, results, not 
headlines. It is time for America to stand up to the lies and hysteria 
of ``The Green Scare'' and say: ``No. Not again.''
  Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that excerpts from the series 
``Environment Inc.'' be printed in the Record.
  I wish to also note that the entire series may be found at: 
www.sacbee.com/news/projects/environment.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                [From the Sacramento Bee, Apr. 22, 2001]

      Fat of the Land--Movement's Prosperity Comes at a High Price

                            (By Tom Knudson)

       As a grass-roots conservationist from Oregon, Jack Shipley 
     looked forward to his visit to Washington, D.C., to promote a 
     community-based forest management plan. But when he stepped 
     into the national headquarters of The Wilderness Society, his 
     excitement turned to unease.
       ``It was like a giant corporation,'' Shipley said, ``Floor 
     after floor after floor, just like Exxon or AT&T.''
       In San Francisco, Sierra Club board member Chad Hanson 
     experienced a similar letdown when he showed up for a soiree 
     at one of the city's finest hotels in 1997.
       ``Here I had just been elected to the largest grass-roots 
     environmental group in the world and I am having martinis in 
     the penthouse of the Westin St. Francis,'' said Hanson, an 
     environmental activist from Pasadena. ``What's wrong with 
     this picture? It was surreal.''
       Soon, Hanson was calling the Sierra Club by a new name: 
     Club Sierra.
       Extravagance is not a trait normally linked with 
     environmental groups. The movement's tradition leans toward 
     simplicity, economy and living light on the land. But today, 
     as record sums of money flow to environmental causes, 
     prosperity is pushing tradition aside, and the millions of 
     Americans who support environmental groups are footing the 
     bill.
       High-rise offices, ritzy hotels and martinis are but one 
     sign of wider change. Rising executive salaries and fat Wall 
     Street portfolios are another. So, too, is a costly reliance 
     on fund-raising consultants for financial success.
       Put the pieces together and you find a movement estranged 
     from its past, one that has come to resemble the corporate 
     world it often seeks to reform.
       Although environmental organizations have accomplished many 
     stirring and important victories over the years, today groups 
     prosper while the land does not. Competition for money and 
     members is keen, Litigation is a blood sport. Crisis, real or 
     not, is a commodity. And slogans and sound bites masquerade 
     as scientific fact.
       ``National environmental organizations, I fear, have grown 
     away from the grass roots to mirror the foxes they had been 
     chasing,'' said environmental author Michael Frome, at a 
     wilderness conference in Seattle last year. ``They seem to me 
     to have turned tame, corporate and compromising.''
       This series of articles--based on more than 200 interviews, 
     travel across 12 states and northern Mexico, and thousands of 
     state and federal records--will explore the poverty of plenty 
     that has come to characterize much of the environmental 
     movement. Some of the highlights:
       Salaries for environmental leaders have never been higher. 
     In 1999--the most recent year for which comparable figures 
     are available--chief executives at nine of the nation's 10 
     largest environmental groups earned $200,000 and up, and one 
     topped $300,000. In 1997, one group fired its president and 
     awarded him a severance payment of $760,335.
       Money is flowing to conservation in unprecedented amounts, 
     reaching $3.5 billion in 1999, up 94 percent from 1992. But 
     much of it is not actually used to protect the environment. 
     Instead, it is siphoned off to pay for bureaucratic overhead 
     and fund raising, including expensive direct-mail and 
     telemarketing consultants.
       Subsidized by federal tax dollars, environmental groups are 
     filing a blizzard of lawsuits that no longer yield 
     significant gain for the environment and sometimes infuriate 
     federal judges and the Justice Department. During the 1990s, 
     the U.S. Treasury paid $31.6 million in legal fees for 
     environmental cases filed against the government.
       Those who know the environment best--the scientists who 
     devote their careers to it--say environmental groups often 
     twist fact into fantasy to serve their agendas. That is 
     especially true in the debate over one of America's most 
     majestic landscapes: its Western evergreen forests. A 1999 
     report by the U.S. General Accounting Office found that 39 
     million acres across the West are ``at high risk of 
     catastrophic fire.'' Yet many groups use science selectively 
     to oppose thinning efforts that could reduce fire risk.
       ``A lot of environmental messages are simply not 
     accurate,'' said Jerry Franklin, a professor of forest 
     ecology and ecosystem science at the University of 
     Washington. ``But that's the way we sell messages in this

[[Page 7194]]

     society. We use hype. And we use those pieces of information 
     that sustain our position. I guess all large organizations do 
     that.''
       And sometimes when nature needs help the most, 
     environmental groups are busy with other things.
       As the tiny Fresno kangaroo rat struggled for survival in 
     the industrialized farmland of California's San Joaquin 
     Valley in the 1990s, for example, the environmental movement 
     did not seem to notice.
       As a fisheries conservationist tried to save rare trout 
     species across remote parts of Oregon and Nevada, he found no 
     safety net in major environmental groups.
       As sea turtles washed up dead and dying on Texas beaches in 
     1993, no groups made the turtles their mascot.
       ``I contacted everybody and nobody listened,'' said Carole 
     Allen, who rehabilitates turtles injured in fishing nets. 
     ``Everybody wants to save dolphins. Turtles aren't popular. 
     It really gets frustrating.''
       Yet look closely at environmentalism today and you also see 
     promise and prosperity coming together to form a new style of 
     environmentalism--one that is sprouting quietly, community by 
     community, across the United States and is rooted in results, 
     not rhetoric.
       ``I'm so frustrated with the opportunism and impulsiveness 
     of how groups are going about things,'' said Steve McCormick, 
     president of The Nature Conservancy, which uses science to 
     target and solve environmental problems. ``What's the plan? 
     What are the milestones by which we can measure our 
     success?''
       Today's challenges are more subtle and serious than those 
     of the past. Stopping a dam is child's play compared to 
     halting the spread of destructive, non-native species. 
     Protecting old-growth forests from logging is simple; saving 
     them from fire and disease is more difficult.
       But as the Bush administration takes control in Washington, 
     many groups are again tuning up sound bites--not drawing up 
     solutions.
       There is no clearinghouse for information about 
     environmental groups, no oversight body watching for abuse 
     and assessing job performance. What information exists is 
     scattered among many sources, including the Internal Revenue 
     Service, philanthropic watchdogs, the U.S. Department of 
     Justice and nonprofit trade associations.
       Sift through their material and here is what you find:
       Donations are at flood stage. In 1999, individuals, 
     companies and foundations gave an average of $9.6 million a 
     day to environmental groups, according to the National Center 
     for Charitable Statistics, which monitors nonprofit fund 
     raising.
       The dollars do not enrich equally. The nation's 20 largest 
     groups--a tiny slice of the more than 8,000 environmental 
     organizations--took in 29 percent of contributions in 1999, 
     according to IRS Form 990 tax records. The top 10 earned 
     spots on the Chronicle of Philanthropy's list of America's 
     wealthiest charities.
       The richest is The Nature Conservancy, an Arlington, Va., 
     group that focuses on purchasing land to protect the 
     diversity of species. In 1999, The Nature Conservancy 
     received $403 million, as much as its six nearest rivals 
     combined: Trust for Public Land, Ducks Unlimited, World 
     Wildlife Fund, Conservation International, National Wildlife 
     Federation and Natural Resources Defense Council.
       Forty years ago, the environmental movement was a national 
     policy sideshow. Today, it is a strong, vocal lobby that 
     weighs in on everything from highway transportation to global 
     trade. Some groups, such as the National Audubon Society and 
     Environmental Defense, are generalists, dabbling in many 
     things. Others, such as Ducks Unlimited and Conservation 
     International, have found success in specialization.

                           *   *   *   *   *

       David Brower, the legendary former Sierra Club leader who 
     led successful battles to keep dams out of Dinosaur National 
     Monument and the Grand Canyon in the 1950s and '60s, said 
     success springs from deeds, not dollars.
       ``We were getting members because we were doing things,'' 
     Brower said before he died last year. ``Out (strength) came 
     from outings and trips--getting people out. If came from 
     full-page ads and books.''
       Today, there is a new approach--junk mail and scare 
     tactics.
       ``Dear Friend, If you've visited a national park recently, 
     then some of the things you're about to read may not surprise 
     you!
       ``America's National Park System--the first and finest in 
     the world--is in real trouble right now.
       ``Yellowstone . . . Great Smoky Mountains . . . Grand 
     Canyon . . . Everglades. Wilderness, wildlife, air and water 
     in all these magnificent parks are being compromised by 
     adjacent mining activities, noise pollution, commercial 
     development and other dangerous threats . . .''
       So begins a recent fund-raising letter from the National 
     Parks Conservation Association, a 400,000-plus-member 
     organization. The letter goes on to tell of the group's 
     accomplishments, warn of continued threats, ask for money--
     ``$15 or more''--and offer something special for signing up. 
     ``Free as our welcome-aboard gift . . . The NPCA bean bag 
     bear!''
       Let's say you did send in $15. What would become of it?
       According to the group's 1998-99 federal tax form, much of 
     your money would have been routed not to parks but to more 
     fund raising and overhead. Just $7.62 (51 percent) would have 
     been spent on parks, less than the minimum 60 percent 
     recommended by the American Institute of Philanthropy, a 
     nonprofit charity watchdog group.
       And the parks association is not alone.
       Five other major groups--including household names such as 
     Greenpeace and the Sierra Club--spend so much on fund 
     raising, membership and overhead they don't meet standards 
     set by philathropic watchdog groups.
       It's not just the cost of raising money that catches 
     attention these days. It is the nature of the fund-raising 
     pitches themselves.
       ``What works with direct mail? The answer is crisis. 
     Threats and crisis,'' said Beard, the Audubon Society chief 
     operating officer.
       ``So what you get in your mailbox is a never-ending stream 
     of crisis-related shrill material designed to evoke emotions 
     so you will sit down and write a check. I think it's a slow 
     walk down a dead-end road. You reach the point where people 
     get turned off.'' Then he hesitated, adding:
       ``But I don't want to say direct mail is bad because, 
     frankly, it works.''
       Even some of those who sign the appeals are uncomfortable 
     with them.
       ``Candidly, I am tired of The Wilderness Society and other 
     organizations--and we are a culprit here--constantly 
     preaching gloom and doom,'' said William Meadows, the 
     society's president, whose signature appears on millions of 
     crisis-related solicitations. ``We do have positive things to 
     say.''
       Many environmental groups, The Wilderness Society included, 
     also use a legal accounting loophole to call much of what 
     they spend on fund raising ``public education.''
       In 1999, for instance, The Wilderness Society spend $1.46 
     million on a major membership campaign consisting of 6.2 
     million letters. But when it came time to disclose that bill 
     in its annual report, the society shifted 87 percent--$1.27 
     million--to public education. The group also shrank a $94,411 
     telemarketing bill by deciding that 71 percent was public 
     education.''
       The Wilderness Society's spokesman, Ben Beach, said that 
     kind of accounting is appropriate because fund-raising 
     solicitations are educational.
       ``No one is trying to do anything that isn't right by the 
     rule book here,'' he said. ``A lot of us don't particularly 
     like getting (telemarketing) calls. But that's not to say you 
     don't learn something.''
       Still, the accounting practice is controversial. Nine of 
     the nation's 20 largest groups don't use it. ``Playing games 
     with numbers is not worth the effort or questions that would 
     come from it,'' said Stephen Howell, chief operating officer 
     at The Nature Conservancy.
       ``It should be called what it is,'' said Noonan, the 
     Conservation Fund leader. ``As we become larger and more 
     successful, I worry about the ethics of our movement. We need 
     to think about self-regulation and standards. If not, the 
     ones who make mistakes are going to hurt it for all of us.''
       Dollars can disappear in other ways, of course.

                           *   *   *   *   *

       Comfortable office digs and sumptuous fund-raising banquets 
     are another drain on donor dollars. The Sierra Club spends 
     $59,473 a month for its office lease in San Francisco. In 
     Washington, Greenpeace pays around $45,000 a month.
       In June 1998, The Nature Conservancy spent more than $1 
     million on a single fund-raising bash in New York City's 
     Central Park. Carly Simon and Jimmy Buffett played. Masters 
     of ceremonies included Dan Rather, Peter Jennings, Mike 
     Wallace and Leslie Stahl. Variety magazine reported that the 
     1,100 guests were treated to a martini bar and a rolling 
     cigar station.
       ``The goal was to raise (our) profile among high-dollar 
     donors,'' Conservancy spokesman Mike Horak said in a 
     statement. And it paid off: $1.8 million was raised.

                           *   *   *   *   *

       Salaries gobble up money raised, too. In 1999, top salaries 
     at the 10 largest environmental groups averaged $235,918, 
     according to IRS tax forms. By contrast, the president of 
     Habitat for Humanity, International--which builds homes for 
     the poor--earned $62,843. At Mothers Against Drunk Driving, 
     the president made $69,570.
       Among environmental groups, Ducks Unlimited paid its leader 
     the most: $346,882.
       ``Those salaries are obscene,'' said Martin Litton, a 
     former Sierra Club board member, who worked tirelessly over a 
     half-century to help bring about the creation of Redwoods 
     National Park in 1968 and Sequoia National Monument last 
     year. Litton did it for free.
       ``There should be sacrifice in serving the environment,'' 
     he said.

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