President's Corner (continued)
I offer my sincere thanks and appreciation to Erika Lyon, who is completing her three-year leadership commitment and rolling off the Executive Committee. Erika and our awesome executive secretary Dean Solomon patiently coached me through a lot of things this year. I also give a big thanks to Andrea Lazzari whose time as our secretary is concluding. Andrea’s meticulous note taking kept us on track and provides an important record of the activities of our association. Please join me in welcoming our incoming secretary, Ashley Kulhanek from Ohio State University and our incoming president-elect Holly Abeels from the University of Florida. Our newly elected western regional representative ended up not being able to serve, so our current western rep Dan Stark from Oregon State University has graciously agreed to take another spin with us. Thank you, Dan!
Every year brings about challenge and change. Some years seem more pronounced than others in that regard, and I think 2025 is among them. We have seen major sociopolitical shifts and dramatic events on a global scale. At the smaller scale of our Extension programs, many of us, me included, are facing severe funding cuts at all levels, and our local offices have lost staff. I have had to adapt to new circumstances and change the way I do things, as has ANREP as an organization. Sometimes change is good, and sometimes change is not so good. To use language that I use with the forest landowners I work with, it all depends on your objectives. Judging by the general mood of the world right now, it would seem that people at large are not perceiving positive progress toward personal, professional, and social objectives.
When change shifts us further from where we want to be, there is a tendency to look backward and wish for past conditions. In other words, there is a desire for restoration. This is a familiar theme in natural resource management. With the ubiquity of environmental degradation on the landscape, we often talk about forests, grasslands, waterways, and wildlife habitat in terms of restoration needs. Restoration plans, restoration crews, and restoration activities are common in our vernacular when we talk about things like cleaning up contaminants, controlling invasive species, reducing fuel loads, planting native species, and similar efforts.
Merriam-Webster defines restoration as “a bringing back to a former position or condition,” and indeed we think of environmental restoration in terms of recreating conditions that reflect some sort of historical benchmark. Here in the Pacific Northwest, terms like “old growth forest,” “pre-settlement conditions,” and “free-flowing rivers” allude to those types of benchmarks, which can be characterized by certain ecological conditions, functions, or both.
A desire for restoration can stem from a variety of noble sentiments. Restoration advocates may feel a sense of responsibility for repairing ecosystem damage that resulted from human activities. Others may see it as a recovery avenue for threatened and endangered species or biodiversity as a whole. In the Intermountain West, restoring forests to historically low fuel loads is associated with lower risk of catastrophic wildfires.
A desire for restoration may also reflect our general interest in the past. History is fascinating, and we restore all sorts of things from old cars to old buildings to ancient artifacts as a way to experience history firsthand and better understand and appreciate the way things were. I remember as a child having little interest in museums, but as an adult I have a great appreciation for curated collections of restored artifacts as a real-life form of time travel that allows tangible interaction with bygone eras.
While the past-focused nature of restoration has value, it can also be problematic. If we focus too much on the past, we can lose sight of the present and the future. From a practical standpoint, the things of yesteryear may not fit the modern world. A restored crank telephone or antique appliance, for instance, may not work with today’s technology infrastructure. Similarly, the natural landscapes of hundreds of years ago may not thrive in our highly altered environment. Climate change alone means that the forests, grasslands, waterways, and wildlife populations of tomorrow are not going to be able to look the same as those of yesteryear. Development, fragmentation, population growth, and climate change have indelibly changed the landscape context in which natural systems must now exist. Invasive pests, pathogens, and vegetation add further constraints.
This is not to say that the environmental landscapes and systems of old are irrelevant or that we should not work to preserve our remnants of these ecosystems where they still exist and function. On the contrary, historical conditions and the areas that still reflect them are highly instructive for current and future natural resource managers, not to mention functional, adaptable, inspiring, and full of intrinsic ecological and cultural value. This is also not to say that we should not strive to foster characteristics of historic, undegraded systems. Rather, the point is that we should not simply establish replicas of what existed in the past. Ecosystems are not museum pieces; they are dynamic, living systems.
Lands and waters that provide key ecological functions while being appropriate for new and ever-changing conditions may be a more desirable and realistic target. This target is, by nature, a moving target, and it brings up all sorts of questions, conundrums, and conflicting viewpoints. Humility, a willingness to keep learning and adapting, and a tolerance for not always getting it right the first time are some of the most essential natural resource management tools. As Aldo Leopold noted in his Land Ethic essay, there is a lot that scientists do not understand and may never fully understand about complex biotic systems.
I wonder if redemption is a more appropriate paradigm in which to approach sustainable natural resource management. Redemption does not imply a simple reversion to a past condition. Rather, redemption implies that an exchange of some sort takes place. When we redeem a coupon, voucher, or gift certificate, for instance, we exchange it for something of greater value and that which we ultimately desire from the transaction. Back to Merriam-Webster for comparison, the definitions of redemption include freeing from harm as well as changing something for the better. In other words, whereas restoration is inherently tethered to the past, redemption is rooted in a new and better future. It is not a reset but a transformation. It is also more than simply leaving things better than we find them; it is a profound shift in how we conceptualize the environment.
Redemption has long been a common theme throughout cultural expressions of literature, scriptures, and film. What is it that draws us to redemption stories? Maybe it is that redemption is the seemingly impossible made possible. Redemption stories illustrate inspiring transformations of people or situations that seem beyond help or hope. Redemption is not simply the nullification of a past ill as restoration would imply, but an active force against present, and future ills.
Sometimes the applicability of redemption as opposed to restoration is obvious. Those of us who are foster and adoptive parents have an acute awareness that the last thing victims of childhood trauma need is a reversion to the way things were, and I am not sure it is possible to ever truly restore innocence. The lives of these children can certainly be redeemed, though, for a better future in which they thrive. Similarly, people looking to turn from a past characterized by major mistakes would never want to go back to the way they were but rather embrace a new and better version of themselves.
Oftentimes, though, there is a fallacy of restoration that is not so obvious, and we must consider it more carefully. The past has a strong pull. Nostalgia is not a bad thing, and there are many losses of people, things, and conditions past that are worthy of grief. However, rosy retrospection is a powerful psychological force that leaves our thinking biased toward the past over the present or even the future if we are feeling particularly pessimistic. In reality, though, the past may not have been so great as we remember it while the possibilities of the future exceed what we can currently imagine.
The pursuit of restoration can be particularly tempting when it comes to the mistakes we make in life. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could simply erase the mistake and go back to exactly how things were before things went off the rails? At worst we can try to cover up the mistake and pretend it didn’t happen. At best we try to make amends, and such amends may be quite necessary and appropriate. Life’s big mistakes usually involve damage to relationships, however, and it is not realistic to think a relationship can be restored to exactly the way it was. Even with the sincerest forgiveness and reconciliation, the relational dynamic is forever altered. This is not to say that the alteration is for the worse. On the contrary, forgiveness and reconciliation can have an even greater impact than the transgression, working to strengthen a relationship and bring about a new and better chapter.
It is in these dynamic, living systems that form our lives, relationships, ecosystems, and society where restoration, in the strictest sense, struggles to be fully applicable. In terms of natural resource management, the everyday stewardship work that we teach our clientele can transform degraded systems into a resilient, thriving, diverse natural landscape. While some may argue that it is only a difference of semantics, I see this not as the work of restoration but as the work of redemption where the future is even better than the past. As we move into 2026, think of the possibilities for redemption, remember that it is a long process, and don’t lose your hope in a better future.
My best to you all in the new year,
Kevin W. Zobrist
2025 ANREP president
