By RON DAINES
Freelance Writer

(March 1, 2010)  When a logger from Montana receives a standing ovation from sheep producers in Nashville, you know they must have something in common.

“We all share a heritage, a heritage of stewardship and conservation, which is why it makes sense to have a logger in front of you,” logger Bruce Vincent told member of the American Sheep Industry Association (ASI) during its national conference.

That sense of stewardship, he said, runs deep through all of agriculture, through generations of families.

Vincent, a third-generation logger and international speaker, presented his view of rural America in a speech to the ASI Board of Directors titled, “With Vision, There Is Hope.”

Vincent grew up in a logging family in Libby, Mont., where his father built a business that supported 65 families, including his own. After high school, encouraged by his father who didn’t want him to be a logger, Vincent went to school at Gonzaga in Spokane. He earned a bachelor of science in civil engineering and a master’s degree in business administration, preparing himself for a job in the construction industry “on our way to Yuppie-dom.”

But he recalls one drive home to Libby, rolling down his window about 80 miles from home, and realized he could literally smell home. So he made a quality-of-life decision to move home where he could “do what I want to do when I want to do it.”
“We live in stunningly beautiful places,” he told his audience. “We have a deep sense of place, so deep we know what it smells like.”

Vincent has been a champion of rural America since the time of the spotted owl.
“I was the guy with the megaphone. We fought hard, but we lost our social license to operate. But now our license is being renewed,” he said, after long, determined efforts by the timber industry. “I want to offer you one guy’s version of where we are based on our history and see if the sheep industry can learn from it.”

He said rural America is in a collision of visions with the rest of the country.
“The rest of the country is falling in love with the place we call home. They call our home the ‘last best place.’ They also fall in love with our cultural environment, but with a stereotypical view of it. They visit, then they leave with a desire to protect the ‘last best parts’ of our country,” said Vincent. “But there’s a fatal flaw: There’s no place in it for the ‘last best people.’”

In recalling his own experience, Vincent said the timber industry recognized that its activities were degrading streams. In response, the industry created a riparian management system that would become a model used around the world. Still, their critics persisted. So Vincent asked one environmentalist how much pollution he thought logging was causing, and the critic acknowledged it was less than 1 percent. When Vincent asked the critic why he continued to fan the controversy in the media, the critic replied, “You’re visible and you’re easy.”

From that, Vincent learned two lessons: that Libby was perceived as politically impotent, and that rural populations are seen as disposable.

“We are not easy and we’re not disposable,” he said. “In this nation of 300 million voracious people, they would be well advised to pay attention to us.”

Vincent observed that environmental laws put on the books 40 to 50 years ago are showing their age.

“The Environment Species Act was designed to save the species, not bludgeon the resource users,” he said. “The leadership we empowered back then found they could make a lot of money on fear, and thus was born the conflict industry.”

The conflict industry’s product, he said, is not environmental stewardship, it’s cash. They make money showing the worst examples they can. It’s a movement turned into a business.

“Their ignorance is now our problem,” he said. “They know nothing about conservation. We must address the enemy’s ignorance. We just need to tell the truth, warts, pimples and all.”

As a timber industry proponent, he realized he was helping the conflict industry drive its story to the front page. What he learned is that you can fight long and hard, but that you’ll lose if you don’t lead.

The rural resource industry has stories to tell, he said, and they need to tell the public who is going to manage their environment, where Vincent said the greatest enemy is not profit, but poverty.

 “The American public should want to buy its boards from Libby, not the Amazon. It should want its sheep from America, not Argentina,” he said. “If you want to make the green choice, pick us.”

In his sojourn to leadership, Vincent has learned at least three truths, and he shared them with the sheep industry.

Democracy works, but it’s not a spectator sport. America’s rural population is only 20 percent, but together it comprises a serious voting block.

When people lead, people follow. We’re often presented with false choices, for example, between animal abuse or animal agriculture, between dirty water or pristine water. “We can have well-cared-for animals and animal agriculture.”

The world is run by those who show up. “We’ve got to make showing up part of our life. You are an expert – don’t let a piano tuner tell your story about sheep. Show up at the planning meeting. Write a letter to the editor. Show up in your schools.”

Vincent cited a story about a teacher who invited a woman into the classroom who wanted the children to adopt a wolf. When Vincent learned of it, he called the teacher and asked if she’d like to adopt a logger. There was dead silence on the phone, and then the teacher said okay.

Today, this program has evolved into Provider Pals, a program run by Rick Kuntz in Libby. It links urban schools, rural schools and the people who get their hands dirty every day, like ranchers, farmers, loggers and miners to answer the question, “Where does my stuff come from?” (www.providerpals.com).

“The non-profit nation is starving for information,” said Vincent. “These kids don’t have political questions. They ask questions like, ‘How big is your truck?’ and ‘Have you ever been chased by a bear?’”

Vincent said the environmental movement was important, but it never matured beyond “stop doing that,” and people are tired of hearing their half truths.

He said that a few years ago the University of Illinois wanted a logger on Earth Day. When Vincent finished his presentation, the students stood and applauded. Surprised, he asked them why. Their response: he gave them a message of hope. He’s gotten the same reaction at universities like Brown, Dartmouth and more.

In concluding his remarks, Vincent offered the sheep industry a cultural plea.

“If I was fighting for my industry, I would have quit,” he said. “I’m fighting for my culture. There’s a way to save the ‘last best place.’ Just add activism as a line item to your business.”