6
Management and Decision-Making

This report is concerned with situations in which policy-makers and resource managers must make decisions that will affect biodiversity and in which there is conflict about the appropriate course of action. The previous chapters identify some of the problems facing policy-makers and managers who must deal with such matters. They also describe the various kinds of information about biodiversity that must be considered and synthesized in policy and management decisions.

The very ideas of biodiversity and its role in sustaining natural processes are complex and diffuse over various spatial and temporal scales. The implications of the meanings of biodiversity for managing natural resources are varied and require bringing technical expertise to bear on such matters (chapter 2). Biodiversity and the processes of which it is a vital part generate a wide range of economic and social and cultural values (chapter 3). Identifying these and specifying them in scales appropriate to the kinds of decisions that confront managers are crucial parts of the decision-making process.

People view and value natural systems and processes from various perspectives, each of which has legitimacy in public discourse (chapter 4). Those perspectives add complexity to the management of natural systems, and recognizing that they exist will help managers to understand the issues that they face. The relative simplicity and appeal of any set of analytical tools is not likely to fit easily with the conflicting views of interests involved in even relatively straight-forward issues involving biodiversity. The economists' set of tools is the most complete and internally consistent available for addressing matters of value (chapter 5). Variations on the basic utilitarian accounting of value have been developed by economists to address some of the complications of dealing with natural



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6 Management and Decision-Making This report is concerned with situations in which policy-makers and resource managers must make decisions that will affect biodiversity and in which there is conflict about the appropriate course of action. The previous chapters identify some of the problems facing policy-makers and managers who must deal with such matters. They also describe the various kinds of information about biodiversity that must be considered and synthesized in policy and management decisions. The very ideas of biodiversity and its role in sustaining natural processes are complex and diffuse over various spatial and temporal scales. The implications of the meanings of biodiversity for managing natural resources are varied and require bringing technical expertise to bear on such matters (chapter 2). Biodiversity and the processes of which it is a vital part generate a wide range of economic and social and cultural values (chapter 3). Identifying these and specifying them in scales appropriate to the kinds of decisions that confront managers are crucial parts of the decision-making process. People view and value natural systems and processes from various perspectives, each of which has legitimacy in public discourse (chapter 4). Those perspectives add complexity to the management of natural systems, and recognizing that they exist will help managers to understand the issues that they face. The relative simplicity and appeal of any set of analytical tools is not likely to fit easily with the conflicting views of interests involved in even relatively straight-forward issues involving biodiversity. The economists' set of tools is the most complete and internally consistent available for addressing matters of value (chapter 5). Variations on the basic utilitarian accounting of value have been developed by economists to address some of the complications of dealing with natural

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processes. Although these are often helpful, decisions involving biodiversity must still be made with attention to matters that cannot be readily encompassed in a market-economics framework. The line of reasoning developed in the previous chapters suggests the need for a discursive process that can build confidence in decisions in the face of incomplete information and differing basic values. Such decision processes will not by themselves eliminate the need for better information or the differences in philosophies. They offer some hope, however, of gaining the support of decision-makers and the public for decisions involving natural systems. Policy and management decisions that concern biological resources commonly involve competing resource uses and conflicting value systems. Uses of land to provide goods and services with well-defined markets (for example, timber for wood products and space for development) and uses that lack well-developed markets (for example, habitat for wildlife, and maintenance of ecological functions) often compete and conflict. Those making decisions concerning biodiversity are expected to resolve the conflicts and to do so in a way that appears legitimate to the various interests affected by the decisions. Decision-makers almost never have perfect ability to resolve conflicts and satisfy their customers. One reason is that the scope of their responsibilities might not fit comfortably with the scope of the resources affected by their decisions. For example, on-the-ground managers are limited by the geographical scope of their jobs, which often does not coincide with the range of the biological resources for which they are in part responsible, as in the Camp Pendleton case study (chapter 1), where maintaining the valuable wildlife habitat on the military base was affected by what happened on the upstream portion of the watershed that fed the river flowing through the base. Policy-makers and resource managers also face limitations of knowledge and time—time for making important decisions, time for acquiring the knowledge needed for good decisions, and the knowledge to weigh short-term results against long-term effects. Like many decisions involving constraints of knowledge and time, decisions that concern biodiversity often must, and should, be made tentatively and incrementally. Resource managers often face pressures that seem to require immediate answers when none are certain, but the nature of decisions involving biodiversity suggests the need for a kind of management that expects changes in knowledge and readily accepts and adapts to them as they become available. Such changes in knowledge are almost sure to occur in the realms of both biology and the social sciences. And the values that society chooses to pursue will change over time as well. That makes biodiversity decisions especially challenging, and the task of assessing values, formidable. In this complex world, the incompleteness of information is not a valid reason for not using all the information that is available. Nor is the need for simplifying decisions to accommodate pluralistic views a reason for not considering moral values. In addition to the tools from the biological and social sci-

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ences discussed in previous chapters, there are processes that help managers to make the best possible decisions even in the face of difficult constraints (Dietz and Stern 1998). Most of the processes discussed in the literature are concerned with public decisions. These vary in scale and include legislative processes (such as, congressional hearings leading to legislation), to federal or state decision that have major effects (such as those requiring environmental impact statements), to decisions that are judged to have more limited impacts (such as decisions that require only environmental assessments). The specifics of the decision processes vary, but all have generally the same elements: definition of the problem and problem focus, analysis of the alternatives based on available facts, fair representation of the range of viewpoints concerned, and a structure for deliberation. Congress has decreed that decisions regarding publicly owned resources must be open to public review and comment. Under the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), federal resource managers are required first to identify the kind of decision to be made and its potential ramifications. On the basis of the range of alternatives available, all germane issues must be presented to the public in a "scoping process" wherein key issues are identified and public input is recorded to ensure that relevant topics that concern participants are addressed. The record of public input and resulting analysis of potential effects must be made available in a draft document for a second round of public review before preparation of a final document that identifies the decision to be made, potential effects, and a range of reasonable alternatives (including an alternative of "no action") for review before the decision. Most of the laws and regulations that shape the actions of managers of public and natural resources call for some form of public involvement in decision-making. Nearly all decisions about federal public lands fall under the requirements of NEPA or other broad laws (such as the Administrative Procedures Act) that mandate public input into decisions. But most researchers and practitioners acknowledge that the standard methods for public participation to meet these requirements (for example, hearings and letters commenting on draft plans or environmental impact statements) yield a great deal of heat and perhaps not much light (Chess and Purcell 1997; Cvetkovich and Earle 1994; Proctor 1998; Shannon 1991; Tuler 1995; Tuler and Webler 1995) In the discussion that follows, a generic process known as analytic deliberation is discussed in some detail. It has grown out of frustration with the standard methods for public involvement and an awareness that the public trust is essential to good public policy and management decisions. That trust can come only when the public believes that it is engaged in the decision-making process in a meaningful, rather than pro forma, way. The point of analytic deliberation processes is that there are mechanisms to engage the public, respect the best available scientific analysis, find better solutions, build understanding, and nurture trust among all involved parties. An analytic deliberative process is iterative. Analysis informs deliberation

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which in turn, directs further analysis as the basis for additional deliberation. Thus, science, in the form of analysis, is brought into full play in the deliberation process, which also informs the science. The Problems Facing Managers Scientific Uncertainty Managing ecosystems to preserve or enhance biodiversity is a complex task. Complexity is added when a manager must consider competing goals, such as recreation or resource extraction. The basic science, while providing essential guidance to ecosystem managers, usually provides results that include some uncertainty. And, the research needed to provide contextual data that allow the application of general scientific principles to local situations is generally weak. As a result, managers must proceed with a limited and uncertain scientific basis for their decisions. In practical terms, although the accessible science can give managers some understanding of the likely consequences of alternative policies and management regimes, they will also be aware that the consequences are not known with certainty. Indeed, managers are often faced with "meta-uncertainty" (Dietz and others 1993) in that they do not know how much uncertainty exists—they are uncertain about the extent of the uncertainty. Uncertainty about the biological and physical consequences of management alternatives affects benefit-cost analysis (BCA) and other policy-analysis tools. The results of those analyses are at least as uncertain as the ecological analyses on which they are based. Because BCA and related tools are still developing and because the amount of context-specific information is sparse for most decisions, uncertainty is added. As noted in chapter 5, there is still some controversy about the use of methods intended to estimate the nonmarket value of biodiversity, which increases uncertainty still further. In the face of scientific uncertainty, BCA and related valuation tools can sometimes eliminate some options as unrealistic or inferior. But rarely will there be enough information to pick a course of action that is unambiguously superior to all other options. The limited amount of information needed for such analyses constitutes one measure of the need for research. For example, improvements in the techniques of contingent valuation (CV) in recent years have occurred as a result of research. Additional research on CV techniques, as well as on BCA, are likely to improve future estimates of the values of natural systems. Value Complexity and Uncertainty Even if the science involved no uncertainty, there would be value-based sources of conflict. Different members of the public assign different values to biodiversity, to the benefits to be gained when biodiversity is preserved or lost,

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and to the costs required to preserve biodiversity. Indeed, the problem is not simply that people assign different weights to the various outcomes of biodiversity-related policies. As noted in chapter 4, people also think in different ways about how to consider biodiversity: some are willing to accept tradeoffs of the sort examined in a BCA, and others that some threats to biodiversity invoke moral imperatives that outweigh efficiency calculations and preclude tradeoffs. Even with perfect scientific information, managers would face controversy because of different values and different ways of thinking about them. Better science and better policy analysis might help to reduce controversy by clarifying options, and social-science research can improve the understanding of the diversity of value positions held by stakeholders. But research and analysis will not make conflict disappear. Why Deliberate? We believe that the best strategy for managers of biodiversity faced with difficult decisions, scientific uncertainty, and public conflict is to make use of deliberation with interested parties (Dietz and Stern 1998). Ultimately, decisions in the public realm must be made by managers who hold statutory responsibility for the resources that they manage. But their decisions can be informed by skillful use of deliberation. Deliberation cannot eliminate conflict, but it can clarify the bases of conflict, build trust among those who disagree, and provide for a learning process that leads to better and more-informed decisions. Fiorino (1990) has suggested three reasons for involving the public in environmental policy: normative, substantive, and instrumental. The normative reason is based on US democratic traditions. A manager must act in a way consistent with public intent as expressed in both statutory mandates and in public expressions of concern over policy and management decisions. Structured and focused deliberation grounds valuation of biodiversity and policy decisions about biodiversity in democratic process and scientific analysis. The substantive reason for public participation is that citizens carry knowledge that is a critical supplement to scientific analysis. This rationale is especially important for valuation problems because even the best available valuation tools are limited and uncertain and might rest on philosophical assumptions that some stakeholders reject. A structured discussion is an effective way to allow people to express their preferences, to reflect on their own values and those of others, to weigh evidence from biological and social-science analyses, to modify their views, and ultimately to provide decision-makers with information on values and value tradeoffs that supplements information from other methods. The instrumental reason for public participation is that, in the face of conflict, participation allows for the development of compromise, trust, and engagement by those who might otherwise prove implacable foes of a proposed policy. Conventional public participation processes, however, usually do not

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produce this desirable outcome; they often, lead to hostility, mistrust, and entrenchment. Processes that allow deliberation over time can gradually build the kind of public trust that provides a solid basis of public actions. Concern over and resulting responses to deteriorating conditions in Seattle's Lake Washington are a case in point (see case study below). Deliberation, debate, and a role for scientific understanding were common themes at all stages, from recognition that a problem existed through taking action to monitoring to ensure that lake conditions do not again deteriorate. Although it was not a concern for enhancing biodiversity that initially led to action, the results have done just that. The lake is now managed by a number of agencies, and numerous municipalities are involved. Case Study: Lake Washington Community reaction to ameliorate perceived environmental change has a long history, beginning at least in the 1600s, long before the general term biodiversity had been coined. We encapsulate here details on Lake Washington as an example with generalizable implications for many urban lakes. Intervention (management) was motivated by developing health issues and a state of the lake that was increasingly intolerable to the public (the stakeholders). Scientific information played a major role in guiding the management decisions, in diverting first untreated sewage (a health issue) and eventually the treated waste fluids (a plant-nutrient issue). The lake is now scientifically managed at an acceptable water quality for the combined benefit of many categories of users. The development of Seattle, from its founding in 1851 as a small coastal village to its current status as a major West Coast port and metropolitan area, has been accompanied by typical growing pains and associated costs. The city is essentially squeezed between two major bodies of water: Puget Sound to the west and Lake Washington to the east. The latter is a relatively young post-Pleistocene lake, formed about 12,000 years ago; it is 28 km long and 65 m deep at its deepest and has a surface area of 86.5 km2. By 1860, lake-side land development and deforestation had begun; by 1900, the lowland conifer forest had been cut, and raw sewage had begun to enter the lake (Edmondson 1991). In its pristine form, the lake was connected to Puget Sound and in its deeper portions was mildly brackish, as indicated by diatom remains in the lake's sediments. The diatom assemblage suggests little effect by a small American Indian population on the lake's biota before to the arrival of European settlers (Bagley 1916). Seattle's increasing importance as a port prompted major changes in the lake's architecture in 1916. The level was lowered by 3 m, and the lake was connected to Puget Sound through a new, locked ship canal, which both increased commercial ship traffic to and from the lake and, by reducing the influx of seawater, influenced lake water chemistry. Furthermore, a major river, the Cedar, was

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redirected to flush ships through the locks. By 1922, 30 storm drains and sewage outfalls served about 50,000 people discharging into the lake. During the period of unrestricted growth, there was no dearth of concern about public-health issues. Between 1889 and 1948, numerous reports recommended control of pollutants, including human sewage, because the lake was a drinking-water source. In 1907, an outbreak of typhoid resulted in 570 cases. By 1936, raw sewage, but not the treated effluent, was being directed into Puget Sound. In 1958, residents of Seattle approved a $125 million bond issue to divert all the secondary effluent to Puget Sound and thus eliminate the major source of nutrient contamination (predominantly phosphorus) and its undesirable effects on lake chemistry and biological structure. Edmondson (1991) estimated the cost at $2.80/month per household, to be financed by revenue bonds. Diversion was completed by 1965; by the summer of 1971, the lake's transparency, one measure of phytoplankton density, was comparable with that of 1950, and recovery was deemed to be well under way. The Decision-Making Process Three natural features visibly dominate Seattle's geographic setting: Puget Sound, snow-capped mountains, and Lake Washington. Actions focused on deterioration of the lake date to 1889 and a series of reports commissioned by state and city agencies. In 1956, the mayor of Seattle empowered the Metropolitan Problems Advisory Committee; by 1958, it had generated a detailed assessment of the expanding water-quality problems and their potential solutions. Because remedial action would extend well beyond the political boundaries of Seattle—that is, require a regional response involving cooperation with adjacent municipalities—the Metro Enabling Act was drafted, calling for public involvement by the affected communities. The act eventually received legislative approval despite the objection that ''Metro'' was a disguised form of socialistic, "big brother" government (Edmondson 1991). The pros and cons were broadly aired in the mass media and civic clubs. Basic science played an essential role, both in identifying the causes of lake deterioration and in predicting (successfully) the benefits of an expensive remediation to be underwritten by increased local taxation. The initial vote, in March 1958, failed to pass the bond issue. A simplified version was submitted 6 months later and passed, receiving 59% of the vote. Restriction of the basic issues, increased public awareness and education, and a sense of ecological urgency all seem to have contributed. Edmondson (1991:54) has discussed the ingredients of aggressive public action: "In general the pro-Metro propaganda was accurate. The leaflets issued by state agencies presented clear, concise descriptions of the problems, and were objective, even when urging a vote for Metro. The debate gave a good chance for arguments against Metro to be pre-

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sented to a wide audience. . . . The important thing is that the voters were provided with information as well as informed opinion to use in making their decision." Results Benefits began to accrue almost immediately. At the peak of eutrophication in 1964, the lake was a "nuisance lake": it smelled because entangled masses of the cyanobacterium Oscillatoria were rotting on the shore (local newspapers renamed it "Lake Stinko"), and public swimming was discouraged by advertising the presence of pollution. The lake is now clean, and the odor is gone. Although data on Lake Washington itself are unavailable, studies on 543 lakefront properties in Maine showed that average value increased by $7,395 for each 1-m increase in water transparency. Perceived water quality clearly translates into enhanced property values (EOS 1996 77:102). The 1916 lowering of the lake's level exposed about 5 km2 or 8% of the lake's bottom area. About 64% of the 115-km shoreline is occupied by residential property of enhanced value, so both owners and the city, through property tax increases, benefited. The locks themselves permitted commercial barge and recreational boat traffic to commute between Lake Washington and Puget Sound. Seattle has long boasted that it is the small-boat capital of the world. The economic benefit is unknown but must be substantial. In 1935, sockeye salmon were stocked in the Cedar River; but they attracted little public interest before 1960. Regular abundance estimates, beginning in 1967, suggested a population of 189,400 fish, and the economic benefit is unknown but must be substantial in 1970. Edmondson (1991) suggests a minimal annual value of the fishing, both recreational and commercial, in excess of $6 million since 1964. Benefits will continue to accrue as long as sockeye salmon return in adequate numbers. Accelerated urbanization of the lake's east side and associated land development activities in portions of the lake's watershed have also generated subtle effects. The data support the obvious fact that effective lake management requires understanding of substantially greater spatial domains, including entire watersheds, farmlands, and even aquifers. To control flooding and associated massive landslides in the Cedar River, large rocks were piled along the banks. This "rip-rap", or revetment, controlled erosion successfully and enhanced spawning conditions for at least two fish species. Edmondson (1991) suggests that the $3.5 million expense would be substantially less than the combined value of an enhanced fishery and the cost, if revetment had not been constructed, of flood damage and reduced property values. Taxpayers in metropolitan Seattle appear knowledgeable about water-quality issues, are increasingly active through habitat-restoration projects (such as adopt-a-stream initiatives), and willing to commit effort and public funds.

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Biodiversity Changes Lake Washington before 1851 was a largish lake of low productivity surrounded by a dense conifer forest. Its biota was probably little different from that of many other such lakes, except that the riverine connection to Puget Sound allowed anadromous salmon, sea-run trout, and sturgeon to enter. All that began to change when people of European ancestry populated the region, and their ensuing increase in numbers, alteration of the watershed through deforestation, and sewage-based phosphorus enrichment of the lake induced pronounced ecological shifts. Most, if not all, species that are present have probably always been present, even if only represented by spores or resting stages buried in the sediment (for example, Hairston and others 1996). There probably have been few local extinctions, and certainly the eutrophication of Lake Washington contributed to no global ones. The avifauna has been modified: breeding loons and dippers have disappeared, and hybrid ducks, "urban" Canada geese, and coot now abound. Changes in fish diversity are perhaps more relevant. Sturgeon are potentially long-lived; the occasional Lake Washington corpse might well be a relic from days (1916) when there was unrestricted passage to Puget Sound. They could well be locally extinct. But rainbow trout have been stocked annually since 1977, and sockeye salmon were introduced in 1935. Eric Warner (Muckelshoot Indian Nation, pers. comm.) has assembled records dating to the late 1800s: of 30 native fishes, only two species of salmon (pink and chum) are confirmed as extinct; 22 exotic or introduced species have been added, of which only four have disappeared. The rooted aquatic plants bordering the lake have also changed. A European invader, Myriophyllum (milfoil), was found in the eastern United States before 1900, in Minnesota by 1970, and in Lake Washington in 1973. By 1976, it had become a nuisance species, clogging waterways and fouling swimmers and sailboat hulls. The invader has displaced stands of native pond weeds in these shallow waters, not eliminated them. On the positive side, it provides food for fish and birds and habitat and shelter for lake organisms, and, in Edmondson's words (1991:48), the extensive marsh and wetlands "are a most unusual amenity for a densely populated city area." The greatest biological shifts characterized the phytoplankton and zooplankton assemblages. Excessive nutrient in the form of phosphorus led to eutrophication beginning about 1900 and substantial blooms of the cyanobacterium Oscillatoria by the early 1960s. Public action led to reduced phosphorus input, the associated general disappearance of Oscillatoria, and eventually the reappearance of the zooplankter Daphnia. Daphnia reduced the density of "normal" lake phytoplankton still further, and as a consequence lake transparency doubled. All those species are normal inhabitants of lakes: Oscillatoria was identified in 1933. However, lake alkalinity has been increasing gradually since 1960, perhaps because of changes in water chemistry in streams and rivers flowing through

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agricultural or urbanized lands, and this in turn is linked to increases in another cyanobacterium, Aphanizomenon. The latter genus had been present sporadically; in August 1988, it accounted for about 80% of the lake's phytoplankton volume (Edmondson 1997). Conclusions Visible changes in urban lakes have a proven ability to alter public perception of water quality, to underlie health issues (swimmer's itch and typhoid in severe situations), and to be expensive to remedy. In the Lake Washington case, scientific understanding focused on medical issues and water chemistry played the major role in a publicly funded restoration project that had uncertain, although surely positive, biodiversity consequences. Public and scientific appreciation of regional ecological linkages has generated concern about watershed use, land-use practices, (including clear-cutting and increasing urbanization), and subsurface hydrology. Stakeholders and users include the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the forest industry, commercial and recreational fishes, a wide range of water-sports enthusiasts, and float plane operators. Lakeside property owners enjoy special benefits and pay higher taxes. Management decisions involving primarily state agencies and a regional metropolitan council appear committed to maintenance of "system" quality above some threshold. Biodiversity issues play a minor role in this multiuser lake governance, but regular monitoring of lake chemistry and biology, concern about the ecological consequences of species introductions, and maintenance of water quality probably ensure that this large urban lake will retain most of its original biota in the presence of intense and varied human use. Analytic Deliberation Processes: A Useful Tool Analytic deliberation is a class of discursive processes for dealing with conflicts that draws on the best features of both analysis and deliberation. These processes incorporate input from traditional public participation, from normal political processes, and from science in several ways. It also relies on sound analysis grounded in the best available science. It is a structured process tailored to match local circumstance and to fit the needs of managers to make decisions. Analytic deliberation processes are based on continuity and repetition involving a stable group of participants who are committed to the success of the endeavor. In a sense, this mirrors the operation of ordinary markets, in which prices are set in a continuing series of negotiations among buyers and sellers. Each market decision provides additional information for agreeing on the price in the next situation. Analysis and deliberation are complementary processes. Sound analysis grounded in the best available science is essential for making good decisions

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about biodiversity. But science alone will not be sufficient to assess value tradeoffs and indicate the best decision. Scientific uncertainty, value uncertainty, and conflict about values will always accompany decisions about biodiversity. To help to overcome those problems, managers will benefit from carefully structured, scientifically informed deliberation among interested parties. Such deliberation can clarify value positions, identify points of agreement and disagreement, suggest lines of compromise, and build mutual understanding among potentially antagonistic groups. Analytic deliberation processes aid managers in understanding the positions of interested parties and in formulating a position that integrates information about values with scientific analysis. Problem Focus The analytic deliberative process is focused on a problem. It is an aid to decision-making, just as are BCA, impact assessment, risk analysis, and other tools. The process is not an open-ended discussion. Rather, it is intended to provide guidance to managers about specific problems and decisions. Grounding in Facts and Values Analytic deliberation processes are grounded in careful consideration of both available scientific understanding and the diversity of value positions relevant to a decision. A recent Research Council report (NRC 1996:214) defines analysis as "the systematic application of specific theories and methods, including those from natural science, social science, engineering, decision science, logic, mathematics and law, for the purpose of collecting and interpreting data and drawing conclusions about phenomena. It might be qualitative or quantitative. Its competence is typically judged by criteria developed within the fields of expertise from which the theories and methods come." The discursive analytic deliberation processes test the biological, economic, and social information brought to bear on issues involving "systems". The continuity of these discursive processes provides the opportunity to obtain new information, to replace or add to what is questionable, and to legitimize what is used in decisions. The information relevant to such decisions informs analytic deliberation processes, and the processes bring to light uncertainties about the information and provide a forum for reaching agreement. Structure and Fair Representation Analytic deliberation processes are structured. Although much like a committee meeting, it usually involves a gathering of interested individuals, the process must be carefully structured to achieve its goals. The design must be tailored to match local circumstances, the problem being considered, the nature of interested

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parties, and the time and resource constraints on making the decision. Concentrating on specific questions provides a basis for reminding participants of the intent of the deliberation, and the structure of the process ensures that participants stay on target during discussions. The discussion can be structured so that there is continuing emphasis on linking deliberation to available scientific analysis. Care must be taken to ensure that voices representing all relevant positions are heard. The process should not be dominated by the side that turns out the most supporters or that has the most aggressive advocates, as can happen with public hearings and unstructured group processes. In cases involving federal agencies, special care must be taken to satisfy the requirements of the Federal Advisory Committee Act, which spells out procedures for meetings that solicit advice from members of the public. A critical problem in analytic deliberation processes is identifying the parties that should participate. Chess and Hance suggest that managers can identify stakeholders by asking the following questions (Chess and Hance 1994): Who has information and expertise that might be helpful? Who has been involved in similar decisions before? Who has wanted to be involved in similar decisions before? Who might be affected by the decision? Who might be affected but not know it? Who might reasonably be angered if not included? Managers must keep in mind at least two dimensions of concern about biodiversity decisions. One dimension reflects the difference between concern about use value of biodiversity resources and concern about existence values. Some parties will be concerned about the management of a tract of land (or water) to produce income, jobs, and other immediate goods. Others will value the biodiversity of a tract of land for its very existence or for its actual or potential role as habitat for threatened or endangered species. Another dimension reflects the distinction between local interests of those who live and work on or near the habitat being managed and the interests of those who are distant from it but as citizens have an interest in it; this is a local or national dimension. Conflicts about biodiversity management are often conflicts between people at different places along these dimensions. A successful deliberative process must involve people from distant points along both the use-existence dimension and the local-national continuum. If attention is not paid to both dimensions in selecting participants, key interested parties will not be represented. The Deliberative Process The National Research Council (1996:215) defined deliberation as "Any process for communication and for raising and collectively considering issues. . . .

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In deliberation, people discuss, ponder, exchange observations and views, reflect upon information and judgments concerning matters of mutual interest, and attempt to persuade each other." After careful scientific analysis and the application of tools to inform valuation, such as BCA, a manager still faces considerable uncertainty about what will happen and incomplete information about benefits and costs. In addition, some stakeholders will not agree with the valuations produced by formal methods of analysis, nor even with the idea that such analyses are the appropriate way to make decisions. It is then an appropriate time to deliberate. Questions that a manager might ask of the deliberative process include Given the available information, resource constraints, and multiple goals that must be considered, what are the advantages and disadvantages of various options? What are the tradeoffs among options, and how do interested parties differ in their views of those tradeoffs? Is there a way to craft a strategy that is broadly acceptable to most affected parties? Are there conflicts that might be resolved with more information or more resources? The goal of such deliberation is not primarily to pick an option; that is the manager's responsibility. The goal of the deliberation is to ensure that the views of affected parties are known and that managers are aware of the diversity of views among those parties. But successful deliberation goes further and allows participants to educate each other about both facts and values, develop a better understanding of each other's concerns, and sometimes find compromises. Even if some parties remain unsatisfied with any option except the one that they most prefer, the manager and other participants will have a better understanding of the sources of conflict. It is best that such deliberation begin early in the decision process, before all analyses are completed or even identified. That gives the participants a sense that their input is of consequence. It also might identify for the managers the key issues around which conflict arises so that special attention can be paid to them in analysis. The rules of a deliberation are designed to ensure that all participants have a fair opportunity to express their views and be heard, that discussion remains focused on the questions at hand, that relevant analyses can inform the deliberation, and that agreements and disagreements can be identified. The exact process to be used must be designed with attention to the problem under consideration. Varied group processes can be used with success, including those suggested by Dietz and Pfund (1988), Renn and others (1993), and NRC (1996:199–206). Each method uses the social-science literature on small-group processes and on

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communication to design a set of rules that maximize the benefits and minimize the difficulties of small-group interactions. Norton and others (1998) have suggested a two-tiered process for environmental policy analysis that is consistent with our analysis. The two-tiered process notes that preferences for environmental goods and services cannot be taken as static except in the very short term. They propose that some analysis must proceed in a "reflective" tier that is highly deliberative and in which values are juxtaposed with scientific understanding of long-term processes. In this tier, one would expect some evolution of public preferences. More routine analysis lies in a second, "action" tier that attempts to prescribe specific actions and makes use of both conventional economic analysis and dispute-resolution methods, with both conditioned on understandings and consensus developed in the ''reflective" tier. We do not specifically advocate a two-tiered process, because of our emphasis on linking analysis to the circumstances of the manager. A two-tiered process can be useful if the manager, or the larger agency for which the manager works can find the time and resources for periodic reflective analysis regarding goals and vision. Analytic deliberation processes are grounded in an understanding that values and preferences for environmental goods and services change over time, in part as a response to public conservation. Indeed, this is one theoretical justification for the deliberative approach (Dietz 1987). Valuation methods must be attentive to the emergent character of environmental values (Dietz and Stern 1995; Fischhoff 1991; Fischhoff and others 1980), and analytic deliberation is one way to take account of this fact. Thus, the process that we advocate captures the key insights of the proposal by Norton but also attends to the limited resources that most managers can allocate to analysis. Several of the case studies in this report provide some guidance for analytic deliberation approaches involving biodiversity issues, although none of them was specifically designed as an analytic deliberation approach. The case study in the next section, "Deer and the Quabbin Reservoir", is an example of a successful deliberative process. It provided multiple opportunities for the public, including hunters and other interested groups, to interact with land managers and scientists over some period to develop a consensus on actions to reduce the deer herd at the reservoir. It also relied to a degree on analysis of likely results of alternative ways of reducing the deer herd. The Pacific Northwest forests case study (chapter 5) and the Grand Canyon flush case study (chapter 4) were much more elaborate; each stretched over several years. Both used analyses of some possible economic effects of alternative approaches to inform deliberations. Over the life of the two cases, the deliberation processes fed on the analyses and provided new insights that led to further analyses. It is clear that the analyses and the deliberations both improved the ultimate decisions in both cases. The Camp Pendleton case study (chapter 1) also relied on both analyses and

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deliberations. Although biodiversity values were of great importance, no explicit attempts were made to estimate economic values of aspects of biodiversity or of the costs of implementing various strategies for protecting biodiversity. The Everglades case study (chapter 2) was not structured as an analytic deliberative process, but, like the Camp Pendleton case study, it involved both analyses and deliberation. The western rangelands case study (chapter 1), at first glance and because of its far-flung nature, seems to offer little opportunity for a structured analytic deliberative process. However, such approaches are being tried at the local level throughout much of the West. It remains to be determined just how much common ground exists between environmentalists and livestock growers; given the history of acrimony among the constituencies, these efforts clearly are worthy. The various analyses that have been made of the federal rangelands issues have been piecemeal and have not played a major role in the legislative debates over rangelands policies. But the failure to accommodate the historical federal range policies to more recent environmental concerns begs for a new approach. The elements of a structured analytic deliberative process carried out over the broad geographic scope of the federal rangelands issue might offer some hope of success. Case Study: Deer and The Quabbin Reservoir The Quabbin Reservoir, an impoundment about 100 mi west of Boston, is the main source of municipal drinking water for the Boston metropolitan area. It provides pure potable water that requires no treatment other than disinfection to some 40% of the Massachusetts population. Construction of the 39.4-mi2 reservoir during the 1930s and early 1940s required the physical and legal elimination of four towns with long settled village centers. The state-owned reserve surrounding the reservoir includes 60% of the 186 mi2 (about 120,000 acres) of largely forested watershed of the reservoir (Platt 1995). Farmland was allowed to revert to forest, and fields were planted to trees. Access to the reservation around the reservoir was closely regulated and hunting was prohibited, both to protect the purity of the water. With a mosaic of former fields and young vegetation, the deer herd grew rapidly. It peaked in the 1950s at about 60 deer/mi2, much higher than in the surrounding area and well above what wildlife managers consider optimal (Dizard 1994). The increase in the size of the deer herd in the absence of hunting and major nonhuman predators destroyed much of the vegetation that protected the watershed, and this led to a drop in the deer population. A long drought in the 1960s led the reservoir's managers to try clear-cutting some of the forest and thinning other parts to increase runoff into the reservoir. One effect of that strategy was to improve browse, the lack of which was becoming a problem because of the high deer population. The number of deer, which

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had fallen to about 20–30/mi2 in the early 1970s, again started to rise (Dizard 1994). By the late 1980s, it was evident that the deer were eliminating practically all vegetation below the browse line. Although seen as a problem by some people, the growing deer population was valued by others as a visible sign of some remaining degree of wildness in the environment and by hunters. Taking action to reduce deer herds and their effects on their habitat was a frustrating experience for the state agency that manages the watershed and is charged with providing clean water. The conflicts were over understandings of the biological facts of deer, their relationships to their habitat, and the effects of management, but mostly over personal differences in values. Those differences were identified in a series of meetings with the public. Alternatives for controlling the number of deer, some suggested by the public and others by the management agency, were considered. In the end, it was decided that shooting deer was the only practical way to reduce the herd to levels that would allow ordinary vegetation to do its job in protecting the watershed. Once the decision was made, the problem was to decide whether public hunting would be allowed as a management technique and how the part of the public that liked the idea of the reservoir as a no-hunting reservation could be convinced that shooting deer was the appropriate approach (Dizard 1994). The state agency responsible for management of the reservoir initially favored using sharpshooters instead of sport hunters to do the shooting, but the hunter lobby and the state Division of Fisheries and Wildlife objected. After many meetings with the public, the managers decided that a strictly controlled hunt by hunters chosen by lottery and given special instructions would work. The managers wanted to use the hunt as a management device, not to give hunters a chance to satisfy "primal urges" or to embody "some abstract notion of a sporting ethos" (Dizard 1994). The "hunt" was carried out in 1991 and, with careful orientation sessions for the selected hunters, appears to have been successful; and the provisions that had been made to maintain the purity of the water supply seem to have been effective. It was not easy to carry out this kind of a management program in the face of conflicts over values involving nature. The issues over management of the deer herd around the reservoir are fairly typical of the issues of how to manage the growing deer population in the eastern United States generally. The human population is increasingly suburban and semirural in its location, but is increasingly removed from rural agricultural America in its views. The deer compete with gardeners and landscapers for space and vegetation. Sporthunters compete with animal-rights activists and nature lovers. To the extent that management agencies are involved, they compete with each other and seek to maintain influence by responding to the competing interests of those who support them in their quest for power and funds. Resolving these conflicts does not rest on a clearly defined and agreed-on set of values. In most cases, the processes for bringing

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parties together in attempts to resolve such conflicts are not nearly as well developed as in the Quabbin Reservoir case. As Stout and others (1994) observe, agencies with responsibility for deer management ''need to be inquisitive, consensus building, and proactive by including multiple stakeholders" in their decisions. In doing this, they must also avoid blurring distinctions between values and scientific judgments and must make clear to the public that its input in management decisions must be balanced with biological and technical information. Other Uses Guiding a decision will be the most common application of deliberation, but it can be useful in other ways. Chess and others (1998) provide further guidance on when and how managers can use deliberative processes. Generally, managers and scientists are in the best position to identify research that will assist decision-making. But in some cases, broader deliberation with interested parties is helpful because it can identify the kinds of information that will reduce conflict and build consensus. Such a deliberative process can help to reduce conflicts that are based in differing understandings among stakeholders of what will happen under various options and to suggest lines of research that will reduce differences about the facts. And deliberation at the start of a research effort will help interested parties to become stakeholders in the research and thus aid in making the research results influential with those who might otherwise be skeptical. In these circumstances, the analytic base for deliberation comes from scientists and other experts who can outline what kinds of questions might be answered by research and with what degree of certainty. We do not suggest such deliberation when the resources for analysis are inadequate and the studies to be conducted are routine, because there might be little to gain in such circumstances. But when a substantial and novel research effort is to be undertaken and it is necessary to decide what analyses to conduct, consultation with interested parties can be helpful. Determining the value of aspects of biodiversity that are not reflected in market prices is a central problem in biodiversity policy, as we have noted in chapter 5. One common but controversial approach to this problem is the CV method. But the CV method is based on surveys, and responses are given rather quickly, without the deliberation, reflection, and conversation that occur in market transactions that produce market prices (Dietz and Stern 1997). That has led to the suggestion that the value of biodiversity might be assessed better through a deliberative social process than through a process based on individual survey responses. It is an intriguing argument, but too little work has been done in exploring this approach to recommend it as a substitute for CV methods. We suggest that further effort be devoted to examining ways of improving CV and developing complements to it, including deliberative methods.

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Deliberation, Learning, and the Decision Process As a society, we are learning how to value and manage biodiversity. The tools we use in valuation and management must reflect and facilitate the continuing learning process. We urge that managers view their efforts as experiments. This requires humility because outcomes are uncertain. And it requires flexibility because policies might have to altered midstream as science develops better understanding, as societal values evolve, and as the biophysical environment changes. It requires mechanisms for monitoring and evaluating. Analytic deliberation processes are a flexible tool that can aid in such learning. They allow for reflection on what has been done, on what has resulted, on how values and science have changed, and on courses for the future. As though the scientific complexities were not daunting enough, managers' work is further taxed because it is clear that there is no single "public interest" when it comes to biodiversity. In chapter 4, we note the diversity of philosophical positions that can be used to understand the value of biodiversity. The public partakes of all these views and others as well. Thus, some conflict and diversity of opinion are inevitable. The variety and conflict that result will always arise in public management of biodiversity. Nor can managers ignore the conflict. Biodiversity management takes place under public scrutiny. Government decision-makers are required by such laws as NEPA to allow the public to participate in the decision-making process concerning publicly owned resources. How can information on the values of resources effectively inform decision-makers in a way that allows them to incorporate the wide range of public viewpoints expressed? The nation's legal system imposes additional constraints on proposals: they must comply with federal and state laws, they must objectively present socially ethical proposals, access to opportunities or resources must be equitable, and decisions must fall within the missions and legal mandates of the agencies charged with implementing them. A decision that fails to comply with any of those requirements, no matter how positive the social benefits, can be quickly overturned on appeal to the legal system. That leaves a relatively small decision space within which decision-makers must operate, and it is within this decision space that one must try to draw conclusions that are fair, competent, and efficient. Analytical techniques, such as those described in chapter 5, can be a great aid in making decisions. But ultimately such techniques are not sufficient. The analytic deliberative process described here is an important aid to understanding conflicts, resolving them when possible, and building trust. But it too is not a panacea. The analytic deliberative approach is justified on normative, substantive, and instrumental grounds (Fiorino 1990). It is normatively appropriate in that it allows all parties affected by a decision to have a say in it. It is substan-

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tively appropriate in that it provides a broader range of expertise than would be available if decisions were made with input only from scientists and managers. The perspectives of scientists and managers are essential, but other interested parties can offer additional information needed for good decisions, particularly about values. Finally, analytic deliberation processes are instrumentally appropriate in that such a process can help to build trust and understanding and, even when disagreement persists, clarifies the basis of disagreement. References Bagley CB 1916. History of Seattle from earliest settlement to the present time. Chicago IL: SJ Clarke. Chess C, Dietz T, Shannon M. 1998. Who should deliberate when? Hum Ecol Rev 5:45–8. Chess C, Hance BJ. 1994. Communicating with the public: ten questions environmental managers should ask. New Brunswick NJ: Center for Environmental Communication, Rutgers University. Chess C, Purcell K. 1997. Public participation and the environment: do we know what works? New Brunswick NJ: The Center for Environmental Communication, Rutgers Univ. Cvetkovich G, Earle TC. 1994. The construction of justice: a case study of public participation in land management. J Social Iss 50:161–78. Dietz T. 1987. Theory and method in social impact assessment. Sociolog Inq 57:54–69. Dietz T, Frey RS, and others. 1993. Risk, technology and society? In: Dunlap RE, Michelson W. Handbook of environmental sociology. Westport CT: Greenwood Pr. Dietz T, Pfund A. 1988. An impact identification method for development program evaluation. Policy Stud Rev 8:137–45. Dietz T, Stern PC. 1995. Toward realistic models of individual choice. J Socio-Econ 24:261–79. Dietz T, Stern PC. 1998. Science, values and biodiversity. BioScience 48:441–4. Dizard JE. 1994. Going wild. Amherst MA: Univ Massachusetts Pr. 182 p. Edmonson T. 1991. The uses of ecology: Lake Washington and beyond. Seattle WA: Univ of Washington Pr. Edmonson T. 1997. Aphaizomenon in Lake Washington. Arch Hydrobiol Suppl 107:449–46. Fiorino D. 1990. Citizen participation and environmental risk: a survey of institutional mechanisms. Sci Tech Hum Val 15:226–243. Fischhoff B, Slovic P, Lichtenstein. S. 1980. Knowing what you want: measuring labile values. In: Wallsten T (ed). Cognitive processes in choice and decision behavior. Hillsdale NJ: Erlbaum. Fischhoff B. 1991. Value elicitation: is there anything in there? Amer Psych 46:835–47. Hairston NG Jr, Kearns CM, Ellner SP. 1996. Phenotypic variation in a zooplankton egg bank. Ecology 77:2382–92. Norton B, Costanza R, Bishop RC. 1998. The evolution of preferences: Why sovereign preferences may not lead to sustainable policies and what to do about it. Ecol Econ 24:193–211. NRC [National Research Council]. 1996. Understanding risk: informing decisions in a democratic society. Stern PC, Fineberg H (eds). Washington DC: National Acad Pr. Platt RH. 1995. The 2020 water supply study for Metropolitan Boston. J Amer Plan Asso 61(2):185–97. Proctor JD. 1998. Environmental values and popular conflict over environmental management: comparative analysis of public comments on the Clinton forest plan. Envir Mgmt 22:347–58. Renn O, Webler T, and others. 1993. A three-step procedure for public participation in decision-making. Policy Sciences 26:189–214. Shannon MA. 1991. Building public decisions: learning through planning. Washington DC: OTA.

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Stout RJ, Decker DJ, Knuth BA. 1994. Public involvement in deer management decision-making: comparison of three approaches for setting deer population objectives. HDRU Series 94-2. Ithaca NY: Department of Natural Resources, Cornell University. 211 p. Tuler S, Webler T. 1995. Process evaluation for discursive decision-making in environmental and risk policy. Hum Ecol Rev 2:62–71. Tuler S. 1995. Development of mutual understanding among stakeholders in environmental policy disputes. In: Wright SD, Meeker DE, Griffore R, Borden R, Bubolz M, Hens L, Taylor J, Webler T. Human ecology: progress through integrative perspectives. Bar Harbor ME: Soc for Human Ecology. p 280–4.