National parks in the Netherlands

Wolff en Hoeck in de Purmer: Jan van der Heijden (1678) (courtesy SKBL)

Over at Environmental History Resources, Jan Oosthoek recently posted "Cultured nature: The Nature Scenery Act of the Netherlands", based on his podcast interview with Wybren Verstegen, whose article, "The Nature Scenery Act of 1928 in the Netherlands", was published last year in Forest History Today. There's also a video. Oosthoek writes:

When thinking of national parks most people think of famous examples like Yellow Stone and Yosemite in the United States or the Serengeti in Tanzania. These parks are large in scale with an emphasis on wild life conservation and the preservation of scenic landscapes. Human activity and presence are restricted and regulated and people are visitors.

In smaller and densely populated countries like Britain or the Netherlands, the creation of large national parks is complicated. In these countries landscapes are far from natural and humans are part of the fabric of the landscape. For this reason, it is difficult to restrict human access and activities to create national parks.

In the Netherlands nature and human activity are almost inseparable because about half of the country is at or below sea level and is reclaimed or drained. Consequently, the landscape of the Netherlands is mostly the product of human intervention and can therefore be described as a cultural artefact. As a result, formal protection of landscapes and wildlife came late. One of the early attempts to create protected conservation areas came in 1928 with the Natuurschoonwet, freely translated as Nature Scenery Act. This Act was mostly about protecting country houses set in park like settings.

As Oosthoek himself notes in the video, even in the US park landscapes are far from natural. But, as anyone who has visited parks in the US and in Europe knows, there is a big difference in the degree to which parks aspire to a wild or "natural" aesthetic on the two continents, with European parks tending to distinguish far less sharply than their American counterparts between nature and culture.

Preserving Austrian Forests—and More

“Sustainability is the key principle”—that’s how Bernhard Mittermüller describes the great Austrian Forest Act of 1975 in my latest video, “Preservation Waltz.” Mittermüller teaches at the University of Natural Resources and Life Sciences in Vienna, fondly known as BOKU, and he was kind enough to speak with me for this latest addition to my series about Austrian conceptions of law and the Austrian experience of landscape (discussed previously on ELH here and here).

One of the things that intrigued me during my Fulbright stay in Austria was the way that many of its modern, progressive legal concepts grew out its monarchical past, and they bear traces of that royal origin. In Austria, the echo of monarchy is everywhere, including in jurisprudence.

That’s certainly true of the legal concept of environmental sustainability, which now is enshrined in Austrian constitutional law as a national aspiration. Ironically, the regulation of Austrian forests today grew from the efforts of early modern archdukes and prince bishops to protect the woods because of the critical role wood played in the mining industry. This form of environmental protection involved a forceful assertion of power over the local population.

Even more deeply, the regulation of forests in Austria is inextricable from the development of the modern state as a whole. Whereas in England, the first use of the term “common law” was as a contrast to the law of the forest, in Austria the growth of the national approach to law and governance was based in a meaningful degree on the regulation of  the woods, as the spirited legal historian Martin Schennach of the University of Innsbruck explains.

And so the beauty of the well-tended Austrian landscape, which today forms the life-blood of the tourist economy on which the nation depends; the restriction of private autonomy in relation not only to environmental resources but as a general matter of Austrian social life; the progressive vindication of an ideal of the public good; and the social hierarchy of the Mandarin administrative apparatus which took the place of royal authority—all were of a piece in the formation of Austrian identity. And these links can be perceived, and caught on film, shimmering and hovering about everyday Austrian life.

The video isn’t only about the protection of the forests. It’s called “Preservation Waltz,” and it also meditates on the principles of sustainability, community, and order in two other fields involving law and wood. The first area is Austrian domestic architecture, discussed by Karim Giese of the University of Salzburg, which prizes harmony and uniformity as a form of cultural sustainability. Construction law in Austria is guided by the same resistance to market liberalization present in Austrian forest law.

The second area is the preservation of books (made from paper, derived from wood). The video indeed is structured around a conversation with Renate Schönmayr, director of the University of Salzburg’s law library, which I hope playfully links its look at forest and construction law with larger cultural themes about what it means to conserve, safeguard, and study the past.

Want to learn more about Austrian forests and forest law? Here a link to an English-language section of the Austrian forest ministry. Here is the English translation of the Austrian forest report of 2015. And here is the contemporary, amended forest legislation in German. And here is the video:

ELI interviews of environmental law pioneers

The Environmental Law Institute (where years ago I spent a great summer internship as a law student) recently uploaded interviews with 24 people involved in creating the legal framework for modern environmental law in the US, along with short biographies of the interviewees. Scott Fulton, ELI's President, explains:

Nearly 50 years ago, thousands of Americans rallied in the spring of 1970 to celebrate the first Earth Day, an event that marked the beginning of the modern environmental movement. As we approach the 50-year milestone, the Environmental Law Institute has interviewed and recorded the stories of 24 of the men and women who inspired, created, and implemented U.S. framework laws to protect public health and the environment. We asked them why they chose to work on environmental problems and what caused the rise in public concern and support for new environmental laws in the early days. We learned how sweeping new laws like the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act came to be created and carried out by able leaders from both political parties, what innovations in those laws made environmental law work well, and where they fell short of expectations.

[Sorry I've been lax in blogging lately. As always, I'm happy for others to pitch in with posts!]

A River Runs Through It

[A new post from Mark Weiner. His previous post on this blog about Austrian law and landscape is here.]

My new video is about water, water law, Austrian identity, legal philosophy, concepts of the state, ideas of the public, approaches to time and tradition, metaphor, and some great old books. Plus, there’s a cameo appearance by a sweet Alpine cow:

The film is divided into two parts, held together within a single narrative frame: a day spent driving around beautiful Salzburg with a charismatic young legal scholar, Florian Lehne, who was eager to show off his country’s watery environment.

The first part of the film considers some of the ways Austrian law regulates water in a characteristically Austrian way—which is to say by vindicating the public interest and resisting market liberalization through strong assertions of state administrative authority. This part is centered around my trip with Florian.

The second part of the film meditates on Hans Kelsen’s pure theory of law, which in its strict formalism seeks to divorce conceptions of law and the state from politics. This part includes footage of Florian and a group of both young and well-established legal scholars from the University of Salzburg, the University of Vienna, and the University of Graz.

The division of the film into two parts serves a conceptual and methodological purpose, as well as a substantive one. Conceptually, it’s meant to underscore that different and sometimes divergent aspects of the same legal system can be connected by an underlying symbolic structure whose study is essential for understanding both the legal system’s details and larger issues of legal-cultural identity. Influenced by the work of Clifford Geertz in anthropology, I’ve explored this idea in a variety of ways since my first book, Black Trials, which sought to put that theory into practice through the techniques of literary-historical narrative. Film provides another method for pursuing this goal.

The film isn’t an illustrated lecture, and its purpose isn’t to make an analytic argument. Film makes its meaning through visual gestures and accompanying music and sound. But I’d like to note something about the origin of the film’s main idea: that post-war Austrian identity rests on an ideal of the public interest embodied in elite managerial institutions, and that this ideal represents a curious echo of monarchy within a modern social democratic state.

It isn’t surprising that this structure of thinking and identity should be reflected in water law. The beauty of the Austrian environment is one of the essential foundations of the modern Austrian sense of national self—the Austrian “brand,” both internally and externally, is as the land of mountains and Mozart. Austrians constructed this national self-understanding in significant part after World War II as part of an effort to differentiate their country from Germany. And since the 1970s it has been essential to the country’s economic health, which rests significantly on tourism.

Austrians have protected this cultural resource by nurturing the view that strong government authority is integral to their political community. It’s for this reason that environmental law, the individual experience of water, constitutional jurisprudence, and the individual experience of government all share a common symbolic structure—and that this structure can be captured in film.

A final word for the technically-oriented readers of this blog. The film was shot on a Panasonic Lumix GH4 at 25 fps—that’s to keep images under European PAL lights from flickering—a hard lesson learned a couple years back after I shot 24 fps under fluorescent bulbs in university offices). The audio was recorded internally with a small, expensive Senheiser shotgun mic and a rudimentary lav. A few clips also were shot with my iPhone, in NTSC rates. Most of the shots are hand-held, including the pans, and were steadied in post, though the interviews use a tripod. I edited with a MacBook Pro using Adobe Premier Pro, After Effects, and a smattering of Audition. When the film comes together, I’ll be relying on Audition and Speedgrade for the finishing touches.  As with the video I posted back in January, this is do-it-yourself, micro-budget filmmaking, which I hope gives it a distinctive feel and perspective.

Guest Post: A Video Project about Austrian Law and Landscape

David Schorr recently invited me to share a few words about my latest video project with the readers of this blog. The video will be called “Wood, Water, Stone, Sky, Milk: Law and Landscape in Austria.” It will run about ninety minutes once it’s complete, but in the meantime I’ve been releasing short draft segments, one of which was cross-posted here a few weeks back.

The latest segment is called “Alexander and Iris Talk About Stone (without meeting),” and it explores an Austrian legal method beguilingly named after one of the most prominent elements of the Austrian landscape:

Both Alexander and Iris were great sports, and their enthusiasm for video as a medium enabled this segment to address a serious subject with a light touch and to reach viewers well outside university circles. That’s a tone and openness I’d like to achieve throughout the film.

The project grows out seven months I spent as a Fulbright Scholar at the University of Salzburg in 2015, but its roots lie a bit further back. In 2012, I began an extended, unpaid leave of absence from Rutgers-Newark School of Law, where I had taught constitutional law and legal history for ten years. The reasons for the change were personal: my wife is a professor of English at Wesleyan University, and the burdens of my commute from New Haven came to outweigh the benefits of an academic career. We value our lives together.

The decision came with some significant material costs, but it has given me the time and freedom to strike out in new directions, and that’s been ever-inspiring. I had already published three books, and I wanted to jump well outside my comfort zone and explore modes of historical expression that were entirely new to me. I wanted to engage with radically different forms and styles of telling stories about the legal past. As it happened, two of the forms that came to interest me—two new directions I took—were visual.

The first new direction led me into the world of museum exhibitions. Most important, I began collaborating with my friend Mike Widener, Rare Book Librarian at Yale Law School, on an exhibition for the Grolier Club in New York about illustrated law books. Called “Law’s Picture Books,” the exhibition will feature a number of works that are sure to interest readers of this blog, like this eighteenth-century book about Dutch water law, or this great edition of Bartolus. Do come join us when the exhibition opens in February 2018—it’s going to be exciting.

The second new direction led me into the world of video production and editing, which has become one of the most profound humanistic experiences of my life—it forced me to wrestle with basic questions about our knowledge of the world. I’ll find another occasion to reflect on the challenges involved when a university scholar tries to learn digital video from scratch. But I can say here that, to my relief, it struck me immediately that the storytelling foundations of documentary work and my own academic writing were basically the same. And, happily, after a couple of years of trial-and-error learning, I’ve become familiar enough with Adobe’s suite of post-production products—storytelling tools of jaw-dropping power for historians—to create work that’s significantly better than the first film I made on my Flip Video camera. Plus, the great thing about being a beginner again is there’s so much opportunity to learn so much more.

“Wood, Water, Stone, Sky, Milk”—or, when I’m feeling less ambitious, “Stone, Water, and Wood”—began as a very different video project. When I put together my Fulbright proposal, I intended to make a film about the Austrian legal philosopher Hans Kelsen and his pure theory of law. This seemed like a project just quixotic enough to be interesting to me. But after spending a series of afternoons meditating on Kelsen along the banks of the beautiful Salzach river, it became clear that any filmic treatment of Kelsen would after all have to be a film.  That is, it would require exploring his highly abstract thought in a way that would be grounded in—indeed, that would proceed from—worldly, visual metaphors. It also became clear that the project was too narrowly conceived.

Natural resource law in Salzburg

Mark Weiner's recently posted his video, "Anna in the Mine", which, among other things, has some interesting talk about historical legal rights to natural resources in the Salzburg region. Archaeologist Anna Holzner explains that the Austrian administrative court has ruled that workers on the Dürrnberg still retain their medieval right to mine (salt) on the mountain.

The environmental amendment to the Pennsylvania Constitution

The Environmental Law and Sustainability Center at Widener University recently hosted a talk by Franklin Kury on “The Environmental Amendment to the Pennsylvania Constitution: How It Came to Be and Where It is Going”. You can view the lecture here. The website explains:

Kury was elected to the Pennsylvania House of Representatives for three terms (1966–1972), where he was the author and lead advocate for the environmental rights amendment to the state constitution (Article I, Section 27).  In 1972, he was elected to the first of two terms in the Pennsylvania State Senate, where he became a leader in government reform. 

Nicholas A. Tonelli, Meander (Susquehanna River, Asylum Township)

Imperial free trade and the environment on flim

The relationship between trade and the environment is a fraught one; most recently it has been prominent in debates over the proposed Trans-Pacific Partnership.

"Empire Trade", a 1934 British propaganda film, provides some historical context (you can view it at the excellent Colonial Film website; I got to it through a University of Exeter online course on the British Empire). Here low tariffs within the British Empire are touted in terms of the jobs brought to the home country by exports to the colonies and dominions, and the the raw materials from around the empire that feed British industry.

Visually, prosperity at home is represented by belching smokestacks, white-hot furnaces, and smoking locomotives.

"The size, rather than the position of England, governs our greatest national problem today.
We are not a self-supporting country. We depend for our existence on the exchange of our
manufactured commodities for the food and raw materials that we cannot produce ourselves,
and for these we must rely largely upon our Empire and our merchant navy."

And the video tour around the empire is a celebration of exploitation of nature and colonial labor. (Please read the captions, but trigger warning: some of the text is distasteful.)

Rubber plantation in Malaya. "The amount of rubber produced here alone
is nearly twice as much as the rest of the world's output, and so
forms a tremendously important addition to our Empire resources."

Coconut plantation in Malaya. "This chap doesn't have to wait for the fair
and the coconut shies to come to town; he can have 'em for breakfast every morning."

Floating logs in Canada. "The watermen, who see to it that these logs float downstream without
jamming, have an exciting time." A few frames later, some of them fall in the water.

South Africa. "Her most important industries are diamond and gold mining,
both developed by British engineers, equipped with British machinery."

It seems that circa 1934 environmental degradation and exploitation of less developed countries were clearly seen to result from free trade. One might be charitable and say that they were seen as the price that needed to be paid for economic prosperity, but watching this film, one gets the sense that its makers weren't troubled at all by these costs.

Early modern water law treatises

Mark Weiner's Worlds of Law has a new video, Water, Paper, Law, in which some early modern treatises on water law held by Yale Law Library, especially Giuseppe Carmagnola's Trattato Delle Alluvioni (Turin, 1793) spur meditations on law, books, and water. I'd love to hear more about these works!

(courtesy Yale Law Library)

Wild horses, environmental history, and law

The New York Times website has a new video, "Wild Horses: No Home on the Range", which explores the unintended environmental consequences of the US Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act of 1971. The so-called wild (actually feral) horses or mustangs are a classic example of the culture/nature hybrid that Paul Sutter writes about in his essay discussed here a few days ago, as is the western range in which they compete with livestock for resources.

This environmental history has a rich legal history as well.