Themes, entangled simplicity, confounded.

Challenging the received paradigm of environmental management is the dominant theme weaving through these paired issues of Environments. In the first issue--Managerial Ecology: Contestation and Critique (2002) (1)--the challenge is primarily expressed through philosophical argument. In this second issue--Counterproposals (2003)--the challenge is primarily expressed by proposing and describing alternatives. To infer that these issues outline 'the problem(s)' and 'the solution(s)' of environmental management, however, would be in error. Each issue--even each paper--illustrates entanglements among arguments and counter-arguments, exposing the reader to the various interconnected complexities and conundrums that lie within attempts to address social and environmental concerns.

Most readers of Environments will not be surprised by arguments and examples that challenge the current management paradigm. Many critiques have been directed at mechanistic, utilitarian, 'progress'-oriented management; many questions have been raised regarding the degree of control we can and/or should hold over nature and natural systems; and many alternatives have been proposed that emphasize learning, adaptation and broader participation. What may be a surprise is that some of these papers include such recent shifts as the subject of critique. Those of us--and I include myself here--who value our contemporary efforts to encourage adaptive management, or who turn to the idea of managing human behaviour rather than 'nature', would do well to take note of both critiques and counterproposals.

In this commentary, I want to show how the complexities and arguments come together--not into a neat package that outlines principles and processes or that sets broad guidelines, but into a complex messy bundle of practice and paradox; one that renders simple answers, suspicious and clear directions, doubtful. In particular, I follow a continuous thread relating to control--of whom, of what; by whom, by what--through some of its myriad guises, most especially subtle ones.

In the first issue, Bavington (2002) directs attention to the shift from managing nature to managing human behaviour--establishing the shift in target as a concern. He questions the suggestion that we might manage humans with any greater degree of certainty than we can manage 'nature' or--more importantly--that we might do this with ethical processes and outcomes. Others reinforce the latter concern. Szabo (2002) does so most damningly with a simple metaphor--management as gardening--and an extreme example--the Holocaust. The notion of a gardener carefully nurturing the growth of ecosystems and humans conjures a peaceful vision--yet a gardener must also define and destroy weeds. Szabo points to the atrocities of the Holocaust as a logical--albeit extreme--extension of 'weeding'. The questions that ensue are critical but difficult to respond to in any situation: Where is the line that distinguishes fair and just 'weeding' from the unfair and unjust? And who controls the decision?

In contrast to these critiques of management-as-control, Hudson (2002) and Berkes (2003), suggest reframing the notion of management. Hudson distinguishes between the idea of management--as the regulation of human/non-human interactions--and the capitalist form of management. He claims the latter as problematic, suggesting that a different form of management could involve a "rationally regulated, restitutive process of co-production between humans and nature" (2002: 34). In a complimentary manner, Berkes (2003) describes a need to replace managing for products and commodities with managing for the resilience of interconnected social-ecological systems. Further, Berkes conceives management as governing, learning and adapting, rather than controlling. "Weeding" may be less of a concern if control is attenuated by devolving management to local levels and participatory processes such as Berkes describes with respect to small-scale fisheries.

Yet these reframings of management simply shift the locus of control. They do not preclude the presence and possibility of negative outcomes, which often manifest as unintended consequences. In some cases, consequences result from management intentions that 'back-fire', such as the scientific management of fisheries described by Bavington (2002) and Berkes (2003), where achieving 'sustained yield' has led to depleted and exhausted stocks. In other cases, unintended consequences arise from seemingly benign actions that belie their 'controlling' nature. Davidson-Hunt, for example, depicts cultural landscapes--"expression[s] of societies writing their history upon the land" (2003: 22). He describes changes in Northwestern Ontario over the past few centuries that represent a shift away from management by the Anishinaabe First Nation toward that of managerial ecology.

In still other cases, negative consequences arise from a lack of fit between context and practice. McCarthy (2003), for example, contrasts the call for strategies encouraging smaller, decentralized, participatory processes with the opposing current trends toward increasingly global, corporate-driven, competitive, market economies and associated 'leaner' governments. Blakney (2003) illustrates the conundrums and disasters that can arise. She tells the story of a group who struggled with traditional aboriginal constructions of human-nature relations while operating within a contradictory context. Caught within the dominant 'white' political-economic culture, contemporary aboriginals were 'forced' into decisions contrary to their preferences. This example reveals the multi-faceted nature of control: While the First Nations group had 'control' over forest harvesting rights and practices, they lacked 'control' over the outcomes from these rights and practices.

Expressed through a different medium, Tucs catches the ambiguity of control in the split-face human on the cover of the previous issue: Is this person controlling or controlled? Or perhaps caught in the realization that his belief in control is a mirage?

Revealing another subtle form of control, Garside (2002) highlights the 'pre-political' nature of decisions relating to social-ecological environments: "Calls for increased participation obscure the fact that the decision made that decisions must be made in particular cases is totally absent from public input" (2002: 51). What value is there in participatory processes if the targets of management--or even the very notion of management itself--have already been decided?

Dakin (2003) supports this question from a complimentary direction by highlighting the unequal--and implicit--validity given to particular types of knowledge. Most notably, participatory processes often include 'education'--"understood as a one-way process of information transmission, whereby experts impart their (legitimate) knowledge to citizens" (2003: 97). There is an unexamined asymmetry here: "The flow of 'information'--the local knowledge, perceptions, and opinions of citizens, the non-experts--back to the planners, managers and political decision makers is not seen to be education. It is regarded as merely 'input' or 'feedback'" (2003: 97).

Reversing--rather than cancelling--this asymmetry is seen as counter-productive by several authors as well as Dakin. Davidson-Hunt (2003), for example, in closing his paper, seeks the creative potential of mixing different knowledges. He suggests that we might "expect, and look forward to, indigenous knowledge experts and scientists to guide a renaissance in novel resource and environmental technologies and management practices." However this statement is preceded by a caveat that echoes points made above: "if indigenous peoples are provided with the developmental context to restore land management institutions and organizations" (36-7, my emphasis). Blakney's paper, more than any other, supports Davidson-Hunt's comment by exemplifying results from such dissonance.

Kendrick (2003), in discussing an attempt to address the asymmetries, focuses on the development of trust--not only among participants of a process, but among the knowledges they hold. Dakin illustrates the importance of trust in a more indirect way. She notes the respect that citizens of Wakerton had for the Justice who headed the inquiry into the community's tainted water supply because he came to live in their community and conduct the Inquiry locally. In effect, he crossed a boundary from 'other' to 'us.' However, trying to eliminate such distinctions by homogenizing differences is also seen as problematic by most authors. Kendrick (2003) and Berkes (2003), for example, discuss co-management, which has the role of "develop[ing] mechanisms to bridge, not dissipate, the divide between aboriginal and Canadian governance systems" (Kendrick 2003: 47).