Outdoor Recreation or Colonization?
By Lilli Y. Garza
Outdoor recreators fall under many categories: rock climbers, hikers, mountain bikers, etc. Most are driven by a passion for the outdoors, while many are also in pursuit of the adrenaline rush and bragging rights of attaining first ascents and “discovering” new places. This urge to conquer is descendent from the colonizers of the Americas and beyond, who practiced violent imperialism, refused to compromise, and massacred and enslaved entire civilizations. The colonizer mindset lives on within the culture of outdoor recreation, resulting in the degradation of Indigenous lands and limited access for Indigenous groups, hindering their self-sufficiency and ability to practice cultural traditions. For far too long, the outdoor recreation community has slid by with little to no accountability for their impact on the land and its Indigenous peoples. There is a desperate need for reevaluation and change within this community using an intersectional approach to environmentalism with a focus on social justice.
While Indigenous folks have valued connecting and spending time with the earth for centuries, only in the last century has there been a spark in outdoor appreciation in white communities. As priorities around nature shifted from something to plow through to something to appreciate, those with the time and resources to invest in recreation have more readily pursued outdoor adventures. This has been intensified by the COVID-19 Pandemic limiting international travel and making us appreciate the freedom of the outdoors, resulting in overrun national parks across the country. In 1872, Yellowstone became the first US National Park, followed by the declaration of monuments and parks across the country. While the declaration of these lands as protected from private ownership or destructive resource extraction is a positive step, the management of these so-called ‘public’ lands has a more complex story. What isn’t taken into consideration is that many of the landscapes that became national parks had been shaped by Native peoples for millennia. Despite this, historically, there was no consideration for the Indigenous peoples on the land the government intended to “preserve.” Snowbowl, Spiders Rock, Ship Rock, and Bear Lodge are just a few spaces whose status as an area for outdoor recreation has harmed people indigenous to the area. Whether it is recreating on a sacred landmark, restricting access to Indigenous folks for hunting and gathering, or using chemicals that harm indigenous plants, the activities that occur on land sanctioned for recreation can have harsh impacts on the environment and the people who call the land home.
There have been 158 monuments declared since the establishment of the Antiquities Act in 1906 by President Theodore Roosevelt. While the exact language of the act does not explicitly highlight culture as an aspect to preserve, today the National Park Service describes the act with an intent to preserve the “historic, scientific, commemorative, and cultural values of the historic sites and structures on these lands.” The intention of the Act is clear–to preserve what remains of these beautiful places–but it does not distinguish between differing perspectives of what is deemed ‘valuable’ and how it should best be ‘preserved’. In addition, there is a severe lack of Indigenous representation in decision making settings, resulting in what is of ‘value’ being determined by majority white groups of bureaucrats and outdoor recreators. When oversight of the land is formally passed to these groups, the desires of the outdoor recreation community are prioritized over those of Indigenous communities as a result of their political and economic power.
Once established as a protected area, the lands are maintained and regulated by the National Park Service which is funded by the Department of the Interior. The Department is run by the Secretary who is nominated by the sitting President. This position is currently held by Secretary Deb Haaland, the first Indigenous woman to ever head the Department of the Interior. Before Secretary Haaland, Ryan Zinke held the position. Zinke frequently abused his power, encouraged by former President Donald Trump, to reverse preservative actions taken during former President Obama’s administration. Zinke’s tenure in the position was haunted by continual scandals, from his ties to Halliburton, to blatant misuse of government funds, ultimately resulting in his resignation.
A primary example of the impact of outdoor recreation on Indigenous groups is at Bear Lodge in Wyoming, the first ever National Monument declared. Bear Lodge is a unique land spire that stretches 1,267 feet above the valley it lives in. Hundreds of thousands of tourists make their way to the landmark each year to admire its unique beauty. Of those hundreds of thousands per year, almost 5,000 are there to climb the monument colloquially known as Devil’s Tower. In addition to the tourists that visit the park, there are 24 tribes indigenous to the area for whom the monument is culturally significant. While these Indigenous groups have cherished the site since time immemorial, the other thousands of visitors only started coming in the last century as the spire gained fame and recognition as a climbing destination. This recognition brought climbers from far and wide to the site for a chance to summit the tower.
The colonization of Bear Lodge stretches back to the early 1900s when it was first declared a National Monument under the Antiquities Act. There has always been a clash over the title of the monument, since before any Europeans arrived, the spire was deemed Malo Tipila, which translates to “Bear Lodge”. The spire was known as Bear Lodge because it was told that the scores in the rock were from the claws of a bear. Colonizers called the monument Devils Tower and when the monument was declared, the Indigenous name was erased from the dominant narrative. In 1996, the tribes formally expressed that the colonized name, Devils Tower, was offensive and that calling it Devils Tower was “like calling the Vatican the House of the Devil”. Recreators and other stakeholders wanted the name to stay Devils Tower because of the pop culture name recognition, widely known from the iconic film Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Deborah Liggett, the superintendent of the monument at the time of the decision, ultimately ruled that the monument’s name would remain unchanged. Compromise was unsuccessful in this case, and the decision of one woman shaped history and erased the Indigenous narrative. The colonized name, Devils Tower is how people all over now know Bear Lodge.
The monument has particular significance to the Indigenous communities during the month of June due to religious ceremonies that take place at this time. The tribes in the area believe the energy of the spire to be sacred, elevating its need for protection. In an attempt to appease both groups, a team of stakeholders that included climbers, non-Indigenous locals, and very few tribal members, was gathered to determine a Final Climbing Management Plan. Initially, this resulted in little to no protection at all, let alone in June, but a reference to the American Indian Religious Freedom Act forced decision makers to reconsider. As a result, they enacted a voluntary ban against climbing the tower during the month of June. A voluntary ban means that should you choose to observe it, there is a ban from climbing the monument in June. The ban was relatively effective in the first few years, but it’s impact has since tapered off. Over 20 years after the implementation of the ban, climbers regularly ascend the monument in June. While these climbers may not have negative intentions, their actions are disrespectful towards Indigenous tradition. For many climbers, their drive and passion for the sport blinds them from the historical, political and cultural context of the spaces they temporarily inhabit. This is why we must actively engage with Indigenous histories and culture and challenge the colonizer mentality within outdoor recreation communities.
Bear Lodge is just one example of how outdoor recreation has impacted Indigenous communities. Across the United States, there are hundreds of cases that are similar to that of Bear Lodge, an inevitability considering only one monument has ever been established in direct agreement with the tribes. Bears Ears National Monument, declared in December of 2016 by former President Obama, was the first and only monument to be declared in collaboration with the local tribes. In a recent Atlantic article by David Treuer, an Ojibwe author and historian, he explains that more commonly, these parks “were founded on land that once belonged to [Indigenous peoples], and many were created only after [they] were removed, forcibly, sometimes by an invading army and other times following a treaty [they’d] signed under duress.”
While establishing these areas with the consent and collaboration of Indigenous folks is a possible solution, another would be to return the land to these groups so they can manage them as they did for centuries before the Antiquities Act was declared and colonizers first came to the United States. Treuer proposes returning all 85 million acres of national park sites to a consortium of federally recognized tribes in the United States. The tribes would tend to the land as they had before the US government stole it, and would share access with all. The land is rightfully theirs. It is time we take accountability for our past and present harm and provide restitution.
I share these words with you as an avid and imperfect outdoor recreator myself, existing on lands that were stolen from their original caretakers. I recognize that this journey is complex and long, but I ask that you consider your impact before your next trip. Some ways to engage and think critically about your role in this as an individual are listed below.
Go to Native Lands (https://native-land.ca/) and find out whose land you are on. In some areas, like so-called Seattle, there are opportunities to pay reparations or “real rent” to the folks whose stolen land you occupy.
Before going to a place, research its history. There are numerous places where you must go through the tribe and pay for permit fees to use the area, like at Havasupai falls in Arizona (currently shut down to tourists due to COVID-19). While you may have found a location through an instagram geotag, it is harmful to ignore the local regulations and can actively hurt the local economy and Indigenous livelihoods. This leads me to...
Stop geotagging your hikes on instagram. This can lead to an overload of foot traffic which not only inherently changes a place, but can have devastating environmental impacts.
Think and engage critically with who you were taught to believe were so-called pioneers of nature. John Muir was a racist and yet his quotes are still printed on National Park T-shirts or engraved into their steps. We must accept that there are many problematic figures that have been presented as heroes in the mainstream historical narrative. We need to educate ourselves and hold these figures accountable. Another example of this is in the birding community, where they are also starting to confront their racist histories.
Support the movement to return these lands to Indigenous groups. That can look like donating to Indigenous organizations or calling your representatives. There are numerous petitions already calling for this, like this one by Utah’s Dine Bikeyah.
Share what you have learned about erased Indigenous history with others! We were all taught a fabricated history of this nation in schools. Understanding the history of the land will foster care and respect one person at a time.
Recognize that some spaces are just not meant for you, and that is alright.