Friday, 9 Jul 1999

WASHINGTON, D.C.

This has been fun, writing these daily diary entries. I haven’t kept a journal in years and don’t expect to begin one now. Being the CEO of an environmental group is pretty time-consuming, or at least the way I approach the job, it is. But it has been nice to take some time each morning to ask myself, “What am I thinking about today?” and share the answer with an unknown audience. This morning, I’m thinking about the future, my own and the future of the conservation movement.

Grounded by weather at Boston’s Logan Airport last Thursday night (on the way back from witnessing the freeing of the Kennebec River), I picked up a book I’ve been seeing everywhere I turn recently — Jimmy Buffett’s A Pirate Looks at Fifty. I picked it up because I’m getting pretty close to that magic number myself and thought I might find some useful advice. I also picked it up because one of the best people I know, author Tom McGuane, is a friend and relation of Buffett’s and I figured I might find a little bit of him in there (I did).

I’m about halfway through the book today (almost missed my Metro stop this morning because it’s such a good read), so maybe it’s premature to draw any conclusions. But this is the wide-open web, so I will. On one level, Buffett’s philosophy about life could be summed up as “don’t worry, be happy.” Not bad advice. But there are deeper facets. One is his “worst case scenario” approach to preparing for adventure — thinking through what might happen if something goes wrong and being ready wit
h the right supplies and training in case it does. Another is his clear sense of purpose and the enthusiasm and energy with which he does the things that are important to him. Taken together, this seems like good advice for life and for the conservation movement.

What will the conservation movement be like in Y2K+20? I’m confident there will be a strong conservation movement in 2020 and I hope to be around to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. I think following Buffett’s advice could improve the odds on both.

“Don’t worry, be happy.” For most of my adult life, I’ve made worrying an art form, both as an executive in conservation organizations and as a mother. As an executive, I’ve made a commitment to stop worrying (about whether we’ll make budget, win the “floor” vote, etc.) and instead, focus on making my organization a great place to work, a place that attracts and retains talented and dedicated people who want to spend their time saving rivers, and then let them go at it. As a mother of two teenagers, I’m interested in hearing any suggestions on how to implement the “don’t worry” prescription.

I think the conservation movement is often perceived as the “doom and gloom” folks, as people who are never satisfied (aka “happy”) and always critical, negative, even uncaring. That’s why the Earth Day celebrations are so important. And why we must spend as much time recognizing environmental successes and their sponsors as we spend identifying environmental problems and their causes. This ability to see some progress, even in the face of seemingly impossible environmental issues, is critical to sustaining the movement in the future. At some point, after too many negative messages, people turn off. We need to provide reasons to be hopeful and ways for people to be involved.

Spinning “worst case scenarios” might appear completely inconsistent with the “don’t worry, be happy” prescription for life. But, used as a planning tool that helps one be prepared for what might happen, it gives the “be happy” approach a realistic foundation. On a personal level, for a natural worrier like me, naming the worries, visualizing the worst that could happen, and then making a survival plan really lightens the load.

The same goes for the conservation movement. It’s been our job, since the beginning of the movement, to identify and name the consequences (often unintended) of society’s choices and then to gather the right supplies and training to avoid or at least minimize the worst case (the Alaska pipeline being a case in point where environmentalists forced industry to face up to the possibility of a disaster and redesign the pipeline to minimize the chances of a major failure). As we enter the 21st century and make the transition from the Industrial Age to the Information Age, we will need to be very open to changing our mix of supplies and training so that we have approaches that will work in a rapidly evolving world.

Finally, there’s the importance of having a clear sense of purpose and bringing enthusiasm and energy to it. This is a gift that most of us in the conservation movement bring to our work and I think it’s why the movement has been so incredibly successful in its first 30 years. And yet, it can be too much of a good thing. The most serious occupational hazard we face in the conservation movement is burnout. Too many of us run as fast as we can until we drop (dead or out, take your choice). We need to take time to take care of ourselves. And those of us in the movement today need to invest in those who will inherit our jobs. We need to be mentors and friends to the next generation of conservationists, to share what we’ve learned and ensure that what we hand over is a vibrant, diverse, and well-connected community.

It’s an incredible privilege to serve as a leader in this community. When I’m done, my hope is that America’s rivers will be a little bit healthier and a whole lot better appreciated for what they bring to the quality of our lives. I also hope to have contributed to making the movement stronger and better prepared for the challenges it will face in the years to come.