January 8, 2010
by Allan Casey
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Citizen Science & the Revolution, Part 2

mv Namao, Lake Winnipeg

Last post, I discussed a model of citizen science whereby lay persons can have fun and help the environmental cause at the same time by volunteering to gather data for professional scientists. Now let’s consider a much deeper citizen-science alliance, one with profound political implications for the modern democracy. The true power of citizen science may not be so much about who gathers data, but rather who controls data. Revolutionary? You decide.

A fine symbol of this brave new citizen science is pictured above — the Canadian research ship Namao is just steaming into the Saskatchewan River after a long day of science on Lake Winnipeg, the world’s tenth-largest lake and one of the most threatened aquatic ecosystems anywhere. Namao is the only dedicated lake research vessel in Canada outside the Great Lakes.

Unlike so many scientific tools, the ship is owned and operated not by government but by a citizen’s group called the Lake Winnipeg Research Consortium. To be clear: there are no volunteers or lay-persons working aboard the ship. All are professional scientists. The key is that these professionals are working directly for the people who live on the shores of the lake; some of the scientists live on the lakeshore. Collectively, they are citizens who decided to take action. No single agenda guides their work save for stewardship of the lake itself, their lake.

I first got to cruise aboard Namao nearly five years ago and wrote a story for Canadian Geographic magazine about how the people were doing what their governments could not, would not do to save a very troubled lake. An expanded, updated version of the story later formed a chapter in my Lakeland book, and I will continue to follow the story here. It is a good story, all in all.

You cannot effect environmental change without good data. Even with mountains of it (think “climate change”) politicking is tough. Despite paltry funding and many challenges, the LWRC has managed to produce compelling data about what is happening to Lake Winnipeg, quite a contrast with the 30-year data drought that came before, a period in which the federal government spent not a single research nickel on a lake nearly the size of Lake Ontario. Citizen-derived data now shapes public policy over a large piece of the biosphere. To put it another way, citizen science put Lake Winnipeg on the political map.

To glimpse the promise of citizen science, you first have to understand the shortcomings of science as it is more commonly deployed in society. To scientists reading this, understand that I am not criticizing you as individuals. On the contrary, as individuals, you are our greatest champions of nature. Rather, it is the administrative boxes we put you in that are the problem. There are three main boxes: government, universities and that amorphous catchall known as the private sector.

In most modern democracies, Canada included, the basic science of protecting the environment is a governmental duty. Whether the government does its duty is another matter. It is perennially easy to cut funding to conservation science, which by definition seeks to preserve equilibrium in nature — not a very sexy way to win votes at election time compared to job creation schemes, mega-projects. Liability is another issue. If a government department has not studied a particular problem, whether it is nutrient build-up in a lake, the impact of all-terrain-vehicle use, or what have you, it can’t be held liable for that problem. Even when it gets done, much government research is squirreled away, out of sight from the public. The influence of government environmental departments which exploded onto the scene in developed nations in the 1960s have shrunk steadily ever since.

More than anything it is the mercurial, four- or five-year mentality of elected government that interferes with good conservation science, something which demands consistency over the long term. It is hard to preserve a constant data stream while being buffeted every half decade by the sideways currents of ideology.

As Dr. Peter Kaveira, chief scientist for the Nature Conservancy puts it: “When I worked as a scientist for the federal government, I published ideas and analyses that did eventually get used, but typically only after years and years of bureaucracy and agency angst.”

Universities are equally unsuited to playing guardian to the biosphere, but for different reasons. Schools are venues for training and innovation, not stewardship. The Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council (NSERC), which funds about 40,000 university researchers in Canada, has a mandate to spawn innovation and build scientific capacity, not to save polar bears or the tall grass prairie per se. NSERC is typical of university research funding everywhere.

Nor can universities be relied upon for data continuity over the long term. There are individual researchers who care deeply about conservation, who manage to scrape together funding to study some aspect of it, and who devote enormous energy to addressing some issue or other, who become politicized in the process. Sooner or later, though, most move on to other studies. Even those who carry a torch for an entire career one day retire. Maybe some next-generation tyro will take up their mantle, find the old data and dust it off, review the conclusions in some journal back-issue and renew study. And maybe not.

University science often reveals obvious policy directions for ecosystem protection — which are systematically ignored. When I first wrote about Lake Winnipeg, its nutrient overload problem seemed like a new discovery, one that surely would be rectified. Sad to say, it was just a repeat of the same problem that had been ignored on the Great Lakes three decades earlier. Then one day I had a conversation with a retired lake scientist, Dr. Ted Hammer, who had been awarded a Ph.D in 1963 for his work on nutrient overload. Hammer’s thesis advisor in turn had worked on this problem 20 years earlier, and he had gotten curious it after reading a nineteenth century paper about pollution in ocean harbors. I am sure the science of nutrient overload has advanced with each of these iterations. But the basic solution to the problem was known — and ignored — for century.

The Nature Conservancy’s Dr. Peter Kaveira again: “When I was an academic scientist, I routinely published articles that ended by claiming that ‘this result could be useful…’ In fact, my findings and ideas rarely were used.”

In the last scientific box, the private sector, we have the science of corporate profit, of innovation in a competitive marketplace, of proprietary technology and patents. There is little room for basic stewardship in that milieu.

But not so fast . . . The private sector box also contains a host of non-profits with a naturalist, conservationist mandate. The Nature Conservancy, whose chief scientist I have quoted twice, is a household brand, along with the World Wildlife Fund. Here in North America, Ducks Unlimited and the Sierra Club are other well known examples. Many such groups put science at the top of their spending priority list, employ many scientists directly, and strive to link scientific discovery with immediate action.

Such organizations are our highest-profile examples of citizen science, and I am glad they exist. But their unwieldy size and ambitious reach are problematic. The Nature Conservancy is the largest non-profit in America, with annual revenues over a billion dollars, assets of five-billion plus. WWF is likewise a sprawling worldwide bureaucracy. Even so, the challenges they tackle are orders of magnitude larger. These big green titans are spread thin, fighting campaigns in scores of countries simultaneously. They champion the most difficult cases. They can’t afford to fight small battles.

In the final installment, I want to step off into the unknown, to hypothesize about a much broader, back-yard citizen science network that could exist, that must exist if we are to achieve a sustainable role in the biosphere.

Links

Learn about the Lake Winnipeg Research Consortium and the issues confronting the world’s tenth-largest lake:

http://www.lakewinnipegresearch.org/

For the full text of Dr. Peter Kaveira’s piece on the role of science at the Nature Conservancy:

Conservation Science at The Nature Conservancy – Leading with Science

December 29, 2009
by Allan Casey
1 Comment

Welcome to the new site

alternate text

One thing leads to another, they say, and nowhere is that more true than on the internet. I no sooner set up my humble shop on blogger.com than I outgrew the space and moved here. This place isn’t fully furnished yet, but I think it is time to call it officially “Open for Business.”

With the new elbow room, I’ve got a venue to develop a couple of new projects that need a place to grow. One, a little thing called Citizen Science, has already been introduced in the previous post. Part 2 is coming soon, I hope within hours.

Let me tease you with a partial glimpse of the other one. It is called Small Red Cabin. I can’t give away too much about it right now, except to say that it is a new program promoting responsible use of private resort property. Across Canada, people are concerned about development pressure on wild and semi-wild areas accessible from cities — cabins turning into mansions, bush turning to gravel and gravel to pavement, water turning green with algae. If you are one of those concerned but don’t know quite what to do about it, Small Red Cabin will offer options. I am just fleshing out the program now in partnership with a group called the Boreal Forest Learning Centre. If you’ve been to the Ness Creek Music Festival here in Saskatchewan, then you’ve seen the BFLC’s own beautiful forest home on the edge of the wild. We’ve got a bit more discussion to do at our end before things are unveiled, but I hope the Small Red Cabin logo — as yet still imaginary — will soon be spreading around the country like wildfire. (I don’t need to point out that wildfire is a rejuvenating force in healthy ecosystems, right?) In the days ahead, there will be plenty more on this, and I will be asking for your input.

December 26, 2009
by Allan Casey
Comments Off on Citizen Science & the Revolution, Part 1

Citizen Science & the Revolution, Part 1

Citizen science? Now where have I heard that expression before? Well, it appears a number of times in my book. In fact, when I wrote “Lakeland,” I thought I had invented the term. At least I did not find it in use at the time of writing the early drafts, back in 2005.
Whatever the origin of the term, the important thing is that citizen science is sprouting all over the place, and I believe it is a great ray of hope for our Noah’s Ark of a planet. I vowed to myself that, when I was finished writing “Lakeland,” I would do what I could to promote the concept. So here goes.
In its most practical sense, citizen science refers to a working partnership between professional scientists and lay people who want to participate in science at some level. Probably the most famous example is the annual Christmas Bird Count, a census of winter bird populations conducted by volunteers across the Americas and the Caribbean. The data has been collected for about a century now, and is fundamental to many branches of ornithology and bird conservation science. (Links on this and more at the end.) Dr. Heather Hinam, a friend from Manitoba, depended upon hundreds of volunteers in her study of saw-whet owls and the impact of habitat fragmentation. The study of variable stars, which is fundamental to our understanding of all stars, likewise depends on nightly observations by thousands of amateur astronomers worldwide. My friend Richard Huziak is one of these. Since 1976 he has personally logged 170,000 observations of variable stars in addition to his numerous other contributions to astronomical citizen science.
Obviously, a standing army of volunteers is potentially of great benefit to scientist. So what do citizens get out of the partnership?
Science is fun. It is a state of mind, a mode of engaging the world which, at its purest level, takes us back to the curiosity of childhood. Like creative writing, acting, painting, or music, science is one of those things that society allows us to dabble in as school kids. Yet in the world of adults, such fields become the exclusive domain of trained specialists. It’s a good thing that science was still wide open to amateurs in the days of Leonardo Da Vinci, Margaret Cavendish, or even Charles Darwin.
Citizens are especially drawn to science as a form of environmental activism. Attending meetings, helping out with public awareness campaigns, making donations to conservation organizations — as vital as such things are to the environmental cause, they happen at some remove from the natural world itself. Many people, myself included, are hungry to help defend a vibrant biosphere in a way that also serves to bring them closer to it.
Here in Saskatchewan, the provincial water authority used to run a program of lake water testing in which a scientist from the department would be sent out to collect samples wherever local people were willing to provide a boat and some helpers. I once spent a beautiful October day aboard such a boat with young scientist named Lorelei Ford (pictured in the photo) and two retired farmers from the area who were serving as her crew. It was delightful to watch the older fellows vie with each other over who got to hold the GPS unit, to hear the reverence with which they called out the pH and temperature readings coming from the submerged sensors, to observe the care with which they recorded the numbers. The pair had a lifetime knowledge of their home waters — its fish and bird populations, its degree of shoreline damage caused by cattle, etc. — going back decades. Now they had a way of using their expertise, and the excitement was written on their faces. The young scientist had a great working rapport with her two amateur colleagues, and it seemed to me that stewardship of that lake was in the very best of hands.
Sadly, the government of Premier Brad Wall cancelled the program.
However, it just may be that citizens don’t need governments at all in creating a better kind of conservation science, one that will be reliably carried on from year to year, generation to generation, one that can help steward the biosphere indefinitely into the future. Sound like a dream?
There is a political component to citizen science that is changing the world right now. I believe it might just save the planet, and I will explore that idea in the next installment.
Happy Holidays.



To learn more about the Christmas Bird Count, including ways to participate, you can try here:
Or, if you are in Canada, start here:
If you have done some astronomy and want to give your observing more purpose, explore the world of variable stars here:
Here is a link from the same site where you can learn more about the citizen scientist I mentioned, Richard Huziak:
Water quality monitoring is a form of citizen science gathering momentum. Try this link:

December 7, 2009
by Allan Casey
3 Comments

Greetings from a Late Bloomer?


This blog begins where my first book ends. Now that Lakeland: Journeys into the Soul of Canada has moved off my desk and into the world, like a child who has grown and gone, I am freer to roam. I am unsure where this new leg of the Great Journey will end, but it feels good to be moving. The course of this data river we call the internet remains blessedly uncharted, and it goes like hell.

In part, the title of this first entry refers to me. I am reluctant to admit that. Rueful, even. But facts are facts. At 45, I was what you might call a veteran journalist before I finally rolled up sleeves and started writing a book. Oh well. Charles Bukowski was even slower out of the gate, and look what fun he had. Anyway, why give in to regret? When I was younger, I just wasn’t ready to say anything that didn’t fit into a 3,000 word magazine article. Besides, I was busy. Busy watching my kids grow from seed, learning to paddle a canoe really elegantly, daydreaming along trails with my dog, Shadow . . . . Then Lakeland came along and everything changed. I don’t know if I really wrote my first book, or it wrote me. It swept into my life like a force of nature and took me along.
More prosaically, the title also reflects the slow arrival of this blog itself. As a professional writer, one feels pressure to participate in this venue. I get asked a lot if I have a blog. Most recently I was coming out of the bathroom down at the Saskatchewan Book Awards and ran into my old high school friend, Keith Fortowsky. He wanted to know if I had a blog like his other naturalist-writer friend, Trevor Herriot. I think very highly of Trevor’s work and am pleased if someone compares me to him. If he was blogging, then I better get started too. I owe both of them a thanks for the inspiration to start, come what may.
For you technologues, I wish to state that I have often been an early adopter of technology. In the mid-eighties I had a first-generation laptop that cost nearly $3,000, weighed as many grams, and a Compuserve account that brought me the world at 2400 baud. When desktop publishing bashed in the doors of design orthodoxy, I was there with my Apple MacIntosh and QuarkXPress, version 3.0. Oh yes, I’ve watched c-beams glitter in dark near the Tannhauser Gate . . . .

This will be my place to gather many threads and see if we can braid them into strong rope. In the course of researching Lakeland I have met many fascinating people doing a lot of good work for the biosphere — more than I could fit in one book. Though far flung from one another, these folks are often working toward very similar kinds of ecological stewardship goals. My main task will be to highlight their work here, and I hope this will serve to connect them to each other, to you and to me.
I’m also wish to explore further an idea which I call citizen-science in the book. Look for more on that very soon. There will be some news about Lakeland, the book, and about Lakeland, the beleaguered-but-still-beautiful rural municipality in Saskatchewan from which I borrowed the book’s title. In both cases, I hope there will be good news. And, very occasionally, probably late at night or early in the morning, I might address the role of the writer in society.
I confess I am a little afraid to hit that orange “Publish Post” button below, to zing this out into the world without the sober-second-thought machinery of an editorial core. But anyway . . .
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