COLLABORATIVE CONFLICT RESOLUTION AT DEVILS TOWER NATIONAL MONUMENT.

In The Way to Rainy Mountain, N. Scott Momaday recounts the Kiowa story of seven sisters and a brother playing in the hills of what we know today as northeastern Wyoming. The brother is transformed into a raging bear that chases the sisters to the stump of a great tree. As the girls take refuge on the stump, it rises into the air, protecting them from the bear's charge. The bear rakes all sides of the stump with its claws in a futile attempt to reach the girls, and eventually they are carried into the heavens where they become the seven sisters of Pleiades.

Today, more than twenty American Indian tribes, all with their own version of this story, believe Devils Tower National Monument is a sacred site, a place where their cultural and religious roots intertwine to form the foundation for life. The region surrounding Devils Tower has been their home since time immemorial, and they come here to pray, conduct Vision Quests, Sun Dances, and other ceremonies.

Meanwhile, Devils Tower is also cherished by rock climbers as one of the world's best crack-climbing sites. Thousands of enthusiasts make pilgrimages of their own to scale the Tower's 867 foot vertical columns. The annual number of climbers has increased dramatically from the first recorded ascent in 1893 to 312 climbers in 1973 to more than 6,000 climbers in 2000.

Friction between American Indians, who view Devils Tower as their church, and rock climbers, who view Devils Tower as their own kind of sanctum, intensified during the 1990s, resulting in a series of legislative and legal disputes, with the Monument's principal caretaker, the National Park Service (NPS), occupying the uncomfortable middle position. How the NPS handled these disputes is an object lesson in collaborative conflict resolution.

A Brief History

In 1906, when President Theodore Roosevelt designated Devils Tower as the United States' first National Monument, there was little indication of trouble down the road. In his words, Devils Tower was a "natural wonder and object of great scientific interest." Formed by an "igneous intrusion into sedimentary layers above," Devils Tower is made up of molten rock cooled by the passage of time. Scientists agree that the top of the Tower never broke the Earth's surface. Its current shape is the result of millions of years of erosion of the layers above and around it.

Though American Indians have inhabited the area for a thousand years, its Western European settlement in the late 1800s corresponded to the discovery of gold in the Black Hills. The gold quickly panned out, but many prospectors stayed and their descendants still populate the small communities of northeastern Wyoming. The Monument itself was developed in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Workers built an access road to the Tower's base, trails around the Tower, and log buildings now housing the Visitor Center, Ranger Station, and Entrance Station. Still, Devils Tower was little known and little visited until the latter part of the 20th century. Its rising popularity can be attributed to the notoriety attached to Steven Spielberg's 1977 film, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," portraying Devils Tower as a landing site for friendly extraterrestrials, and a precipitous increase in the numbers of rock climbers.

The Climbing Controversy

At its peak, the animosity between American Indians and rock climbers reflected fundamental differences in their values and world views. As Julia Wondolleck, a conflict resolution specialist at The University of Michigan, characterized it:

   "Plains Indians have for centuries revered Devils Tower as a sacred site,
   seeking religious visions there and offering sage and tobacco prayer
   bundles to the Great Spirit. They have difficulty restraining their anger
   at the monolith's more recent pilgrims, those who seek the thrill of
   climbing its volcanic face, leaving climbing bolts and urine stains in
   their wake, and whose noise and disruptions make it hard for the Native
   Americans to hear the Great Spirit. The climbers, in turn, are disgusted by
   the prayer bundles scattered about the site. As one climber comments, `As
   far as I'm concerned, prayer bundles are a bunch of trash, and I'm very
   offended to have them hanging around the monument' He argues further that,
   `the Indians don't climb that rock which I own as an American citizen.'
   Francis Bacon, an Arapaho Indian advocating protection for Devils Tower and
   other sacred sites, retorts that, `all hell would break loose if I went to
   climbing the Washington Monument or the National Cathedral.'"

To ease the tension and develop a climbing management plan, the NPS convened a broad-based working group in the early 1990s. The group included American Indians, rock climbers, local community leaders, the Sierra Club, and NPS officials. Deborah Liggett, appointed Superintendent of Devils Tower in 1994, recalls that after some initial "chest thumping" by more strident members of the opposing parties, the working group set out to really try to understand one another's perspectives.

At the heart of the controversy was the fact that climbing during the month of June, the summer solstice, was particularly offensive to American Indians, because that was when they held their sacred ceremonies at the Tower. Would it possible for climbers to refrain from climbing then out of respect for their religious practices? According to Liggett, the NPS was ready to declare an outright ban on climbing in June, but tribal elders balked at the prospect. They felt that climbers choosing not to climb was a more telling sign of respect and understanding. Thus, the idea of a "voluntary ban" was born. Climbers would be informed of the religious significance of the summer solstice to the American Indian community, and they would be asked to honor those religious traditions by not climbing Devils Tower in June.

Rock climbers, according to Jim Schlinkman, the Monument's chief ranger at the time, are by and large a highly educated group of outdoor recreationists, a group sensitive to and understanding of American Indian ways. Indeed, climbers have supported the voluntary ban overwhelmingly as evidenced by NPS statistics indicating an 84% average reduction in climbing activity during June since the request went into effect in 1995.

Nevertheless, the Mountain States Legal Foundation filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court in March 1996 on behalf of factions within the climbing community. It charged that the voluntary ban violated the establishment clause of the first amendment to the U.S. Constitution separating church and state. The plaintiffs' attorneys argued that the voluntary ban favored a particular religion. After extensive litigation, the lawsuit failed in the District Court and in the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals, with the U. S. Supreme Court finally putting the matter to rest by deciding not to hear the plaintiffs' appeal. The courts concluded that the voluntary ban was neither a direct conflict between church and state, nor did it favor one religion over another. It was merely a reasonable accommodation on the part of the NPS.

Widening the Circle of Consideration

The NPS response to the climbing controversy at Devils Tower is instructive. First, it is important to note that contemporary outdoor recreation conflicts are often complex, and solutions defy easy prescriptions. In the Devils Tower case, what seems to have been particularly important was the process employed by the working group in reaching a compromise. American Indians would have preferred that climbing Devils Tower be banned outright. Climbers would have preferred no restrictions whatsoever on scaling the Tower. Neither position was tenable.

The solution was to be found somewhere in between. The working group represented a form of collaborative conflict resolution whereby all stakeholders were given the opportunity for meaningful involvement in the planning process. The various sides had a chance to be heard, their positions were considered seriously, and those holding opposing views listened carefully, even if they ultimately ended up in respectful disagreement. The collaborative process counted as much as, perhaps even more than, the outcome. It befit a democracy.

It is also fair to say that the NPS widened its circle of consideration regarding cross-cultural perspectives on recreation resource management. Since the United States' usurpation of tribal lands, American Indians have not been given a significant voice in natural resource planning processes. In this instance, local Western European stakeholders had taken great pride in Devils Tower being designated the United States' first National Monument. Acknowledging the American Indian history predating the United States itself, and honoring their associated claims as the Tower's First People, was an important step for the NPS.

Moreover, despite the legal challenge to the constitutionality of the voluntary ban, the willingness of both the NPS and the vast majority of rock climbers to respect the inseparable nature of American Indian cultural and religious practices is laudable. Such tolerance, if not acceptance, of differing values and world views is critical to the responsible stewardship of recreation areas and the healthy functioning of an increasingly multi-cultural society.

Policy Implications

The questions ,are are left to ponder are whether it is inherently preferable for outdoor recreationists to manage their own behavior rather than being coerced into desired actions, and whether the voluntary ban at Devils Tower can serve as a model for conflict resolution in other settings. The answer to the first question is unequivocally "Yes" if the self-regulation is effective. Recreation at its core is about freedom of choice and volition. Self-regulation, whenever possible, is preferable to coercion.

The answer to the second question is less clear. Former Superintendent Liggett believes the voluntary ban's effectiveness may be the result of a unique combination of circumstances, chief among them being the particular mix of people making up the climbing management plan's working group. These individuals were willing to put aside their personal agendas for the sake of the larger good. This may not always be the case.

The rock climbing community also deserves credit for the success of the voluntary ban. Though the litigation against the NPS was brought on behalf of a small number of recreational climbers, one commercial climber, and a few other local businesses, the vast majority of rock climbers have complied graciously with the appeal for restraint. Indeed, the climbing community's leading advocacy group, the Access Fund, was instrumental in developing the idea of a voluntary ban in the first place.

It is also clear that American Indian activists were influential in shaping and honing the final climbing management plan. They challenged the status quo and called for more meaningful representation and participation in the planning process. To its credit, the NPS responded to this call for inclusion. The voluntary ban also conformed to President Clinton's 1996 Executive Order requiring federal agencies "to the extent practicable, permitted by law, and not clearly inconsistent with essential agency functions," to "(1) accommodate access to and ceremonial use of Indian sacred sites by Indian religious practitioners and (2) avoid adversely affecting the physical integrity of such sacred sites."

Current Devils Tower Superintendent, Chas Cartwright, believes the climbing management plan now in place accomplishes these goals as well as restricting climbing on certain parts of the Tower during the raptor nesting season each spring. The plan also makes provisions for increased multicultural education so that people of differing world views have an opportunity to better understand each other's perspectives regarding their relationship with the natural world.

Parting Thought

Increasingly, public agencies charged with safeguarding the nation's natural and cultural resources are required to give an accounting of the rationale underlying their management actions. The more confident they can be that all stakeholders have had a voice in the planning process and that all claims on the public estate have been considered, the more confident they can be that their management practices serve the best interests of the public at large. To that end, the way the NPS has managed the climbing controversy at Devils Tower National Monument is a good example of the promise of collaborative conflict resolution.

References for this article are available upon request from Dr. Dan Dustin, Department of Health, Physical Education and Recreation, 247A Ziff Education Building, Florida International University, Miami, Florida, 33199.

Daniel L. Dustin, Ph.D., is a professor in Florida International University's Department of Health, Physical Education and Recreation. Ingrid E. Schneider, Ph.D., is a research associate with the Department of Forest Resources at The University of Minnesota. Check out "Collaborative Conflict Resolution at Devils Towers National Monument" on page 80.