“By logging what little there is left?” The voice was deep, low, and rumbling with menace. The camera swung over to a man I recognized as Diamond from his pictures. He was sitting in the first row.
“Some remedy,” he growled.
Desrochers cleared his voice and responded in a calm, quiet voice.
“We don’t go in and clear-cut any more, if that’s what you’re saying. We are practising sustainable development now. Razing the area is not environmentally sound. We’ve discovered that. We admit we were wrong. So we don’t clear-cut any more. We cut selectively and we replant when we’re through. We leave buffer zones around the water. We leave any trees that hawks and other endangered species might be nesting in. We leave them standing with a buffer zone around them and we don’t cut down trees near bear dens and habitats like that.”
When Diamond didn’t respond Desrochers continued.
“Loggers are people too, they care about the wildlife the same as you do.”
The film panned to the loggers, who began to whistle and clap.
“I’ve been really impressed with how they phone up and tell me they’ve got an eagle’s nest, or ask us to come out and help them with a bear den. These guys care, not just about their jobs, but about the animals too.”
There was more applause from the left side, and the forester turned back to his chair as the applause died down. Into the ensuing quiet, clear and strong, Diamond said, “How can you claim to be a forester and advocate this baloney? I’m ashamed to admit you and I went through biology together before you sold out.” The camera swung jerkily over to Diamond, who pushed back his chair and stood up, the scraping of metal against the floor sounding ominous in the sudden quiet of the auditorium.
“Sustainable development, bullshit,” he said, spitting out the words. “You’ve twisted the concept to mean anything goes as long as everyone gets a chunk of the pie. Oh sure, you leave trees around the hawk nest, but those trees are vulnerable to wind. Ever heard of the ‘edge effect,’ or were you asleep during that lecture? I can jog your memory. It’s the little problem where wind screaming in from over the clear-cut areas hits the edge of your buffer and knocks the trees down. And you make it sound as though all loggers spend their days and nights nursing abandoned fawns and baby eaglets. That’s bullshit and you know it. Once in a blue moon, maybe. There’s a far sight more loggers out there who swerve in their big bulldozers, not to avoid the hawk’s nest or the bear’s den, but to flatten them.
“And what about the trees themselves? All you see in these trees are dollar bills, but what about their value as trees and as habitat for all those animals? For God’s sake, Ray, we’re losing maybe two hundred and fifty acres of trees every frigging hour in this country. Our wilderness is shrinking faster than plastic in fire, and you’re willing to leave a couple of trees for the hawks? Well bravo! What a thoughtful man.”
I could see Shannon lean over and try to pull Diamond back into this seat. She was whispering furiously, but Diamond shook her off and glared at Desrochers.
When the camera panned back to Desrochers his face had flushed a lively red colour and he gripped both hands around the mike, knuckles white. His voice was low and even when he spoke, but he recited his words as though they were a set speech.
“I don’t want to get into another fight here, Diamond. It doesn’t get us anywhere. All I can say is we are practising good forestry techniques now and the animals and trees will benefit from that. We’ll keep erosion down and manage the fish and other wildlife like that. You know as much as anyone that when we cut down the trees, new growth moves in and the forest regenerates. It’s healthy, and the moose and deer and lots of other plants and animals thrive on it.”
Diamond leapt to his feet again.
“Why the hell do we need to manage the forest and the animals? They’ve managed on their own quite well for millions of years. Isn’t it rather presumptuous of us to say we can do that? It’s like asking us to manage our own circulatory system. It can’t be done without irreparable damage. Why the hell can’t you leave them alone to manage themselves?”
“As I said before, the forest has to be managed. Old trees need to be cut before they die or cause massive forest fires that destroy valuable timber and kill wildlife.”
“You dirty, rotten quisling. You sold out to your own profession, Ray. You know that? Why the hell did you do it? How much are they paying you? Trees need to be cut before they die. Hallelujah. Euthanasia. Killing the trees for their own good. A really dignified death. Don’t let them suffer or cause others to suffer. Don’t be such a coward, Ray. Say what you mean. You’ve got to cut down the old tree before it falls and rots and becomes worthless.”
Ray moved closer to Diamond, anger suffusing his face. The hate between the two men was palpable, even in the film.
“You bastard. You call me a quisling after what you did to me? You got it. If the tree’s going to die anyway, or choke the life out of trees around it, then why the hell shouldn’t we take it? We’re not talking human lives here. This isn’t a debate on euthanasia. We’re doing the forest a good service by renewing it and making a buck as well. What the hell’s wrong with that?”
“Damn fuckin’ right,” came a call from the left side of the auditorium. The camera swung around and focused on a big behemoth of a logger. Cameron, I thought.
Cameron had leapt to his feet and was waving his arms around as he said, “I’ve been a logger a long time and I’ve walked through old growth forest, and you know what? They’re just a bunch of big tall trees that cut the sun out. There’s nothing growing there, nothing living, and it’s been a bloody grave for a hundred years. What’ll happen to it if we leave it another hundred years? You got it. The bloody trees will die and fall down and rot and that is a bloody sacrilege. It’s a frigging useless forest until we cut it.”
“Jesus, are you really that stupid?” The camera caught Diamond’s eyes glinting in the light as he shifted his attention to the logger. Shannon tugged on his arm again, but Diamond ignored her. It was like a barroom brawl. Diamond was looking for a fight. Cameron’s face turned crimson with anger.
“Who you calling stupid?” Cameron took a deep breath as though trying to control his rising anger. “We let the forest go along on its own and we waste it. You hear? Now that’s stupid. It’s like letting a field of corn go to seed. All that energy that went into making it wasted, if we don’t harvest at the right time.”
“Attaboy, Cameron. You tell the bastard.”
Cameron turned and looked at his colleagues. Encouraged by their support, he turned his back on Diamond, raised his arms, and addressed them.
“We loggers like to think of the areas we log as one big happy family farm, and that’s how we should run it, like a farm. Old growth is like an old cow. Farmers get rid of old cows that can’t produce milk anymore. If he kept all his old cows he’d have no milk. You have to keep regenerating, and that means cutting.”
“All right,” someone yelled and the men and women around Cameron applauded and whistled.
“The problem is,” yelled Diamond above the din, “it’s like selling rubies for a song. You’re selling out your grandkids’ future for a lousy buck. You just want to keep your own bloody job and to hell with the real cost to the country.”
“Damn right I do,” yelled Cameron as he faced Diamond. “And you’re telling me you’re not trying to do the same? I know all about you, Doctor Jake Diamond,” he said with a sneer. “We loggers aren’t as dumb as everyone tries to paint us. We log the area and you lose your goddamned study site. All that work, poof, gone up in smoke, and maybe you lose tenure too, eh? Who gives a good goddamn about your fuckin’ study animals when hundreds of jobs are at stake here?”
Cameron paused as applause broke out and whistles and stamping of feet filled the room.
Diamond