[07] Thus the mere growth of society involves danger of the gradual conversion of government into something independent of and beyond the people, and the gradual seizure of its powers by a ruling class — though not necessarily a class marked off by personal titles and a hereditary status, for, as history shows, personal titles and hereditary status do not accompany the concentration of power, but follow it. The same methods which, in a little town where each knows his neighbor and matters of common interest are under the common eye, enable the citizens freely to govern themselves, may, in a great city, as we have in many cases seen, enable an organized ring of plunderers to gain and hold the government. So, too, as we see in Congress, and even in our State legislatures, the growth of the country and the greater number of interests make the proportion of the votes of a representative, of which his constituents know or care to know, less and less. And so, too, the executive and judicial departments tend constantly to pass beyond the scrutiny of the people.
[08] But to the changes produced by growth are, with us, added the changes brought about by improved industrial methods. The tendency of steam and of machinery is to the division of labor, to the concentration of wealth and power. Workmen are becoming massed by hundreds and thousands in the employ of single individuals and firms; small storekeepers and merchants are becoming the clerks and salesmen of great business houses; we have already corporations whose revenues and pay-rolls belittle those of the greatest States. And with this concentration grows the facility of combination among these great business interests. How readily the railroad companies, the coal operators, the steel producers, even the match manufacturers, combine, either to regulate prices or to use the powers of government! The tendency in all branches of industry is to the formation of rings against which the individual is helpless, and which exert their power upon government whenever their interests may thus be served. ... read the entire essay
Trebah Garden is a spectacular piece of paradise in Cornwall, England, a
ravine with a huge variety of trees and shrubs that winds its way down to
a beach on the Helford River. Several years ago I visited this garden to
enjoy its beauty. I soon learned that its history and governance are as interesting
as its flora.
The property is first recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086 as belonging
to the Bishop of Exeter. It passed through the hands of many squires and
farmers until it was acquired in 1831 by a wealthy Quaker family, which developed
the extraordinary garden. In the twentieth century the property changed hands
several more times and the garden gradually deteriorated. The last private
owners sank a small fortune into restoring the garden, then donated it to
the Trebah Garden Trust, so it could be opened to the public and preserved
for future generations.
Today, anyone can become a lifetime member of this trust by making a donation
of £250. Members get free access to the garden (other visitors pay
an admission fee) and elect a council to manage the property. They receive
an annual report, audited accounts, and notices of meetings at which they
may vote and submit resolutions. At present, there are about a thousand voting
members of the trust.
As I wandered through the acres of ferns and rhododendrons, it struck me
that Trebah is a microcosm for the ideas in this book. It has passed from
private ownership to a form of common ownership that enables it to be shared
and preserved. If we think of the world as an assemblage of gardens — that
is, of ecosystems in which humans play active roles — the Trebah model
becomes extremely interesting. It illuminates both a process by which natural
gifts can shift from private to common ownership, and an institutional model — the
trust — for managing such gifts as permanent parts of the commons.
Trusts are centuries-old institutions devised to hold and manage property
for beneficiaries. The essence of a trust is a fiduciary relationship. Neither
trusts nor their trustees may ever act in their own self-interest; they’re
legally obligated to act solely on behalf of beneficiaries.
Trusts are bound by numerous rules, including the following:
* Managers must act with undivided loyalty to beneficiaries.
* Unless authorized to act otherwise, managers must preserve the corpus of
the trust. It’s okay to spend income, but not to diminish principal.
* Managers must ensure transparency by making timely financial information
available to beneficiaries.
These rules are enforceable. The basic enforcement mechanism is that an
aggrieved beneficiary or a state attorney general can bring suit against
a trustee. When that happens, the trustee must prove she acted prudently;
if there’s any doubt, the trustee is fined or fired. As Supreme Court
Justice Benjamin Cardozo once put it: “A trustee is held to something
stricter than the morals of the marketplace. Not honesty alone, but the punctilio
of an honor the most sensitive, is the standard of behavior.”
A trustee isn’t the same thing as a steward. Stewards care for an
asset, but their obligations are voluntary and vague. By contrast, trustees’ obligations
are mandatory and quite specific. Trusteeship is thus a more formal and rigorous
responsibility than stewardship.
Trusts can be in charge of financial as well as physical assets. In this
chapter, my concern is natural assets — gifts we inherit from creation.
One of my premises is that each generation has a contract to pass on such
gifts, undiminished, to those not yet born. If we are to keep this contract,
someone must act as trustee of nature’s gifts, or at least of the most
endangered of them. The question is, who?
The candidates are government, corporations, and trusts. I argued earlier
that neither corporations nor government can fulfill this function; they’re
both too bound to short-term private interests. That leaves trusts. ...
A trustee isn’t the same thing as a steward. Stewards care for an
asset, but their obligations are voluntary and vague. By contrast, trustees’ obligations
are mandatory and quite specific. Trusteeship is thus a more formal and rigorous
responsibility than stewardship.
Trusts can be in charge of financial as well as physical assets. In this
chapter, my concern is natural assets — gifts we inherit from creation.
One of my premises is that each generation has a contract to pass on such
gifts, undiminished, to those not yet born. If we are to keep this contract,
someone must act as trustee of nature’s gifts, or at least of the most
endangered of them. The question is, who?
The candidates are government, corporations, and trusts. I argued earlier
that neither corporations nor government can fulfill this function; they’re
both too bound to short-term private interests. That leaves trusts.
Common Property Trusts
The Trebah Garden Trust isn’t a rarity. Across Britain, the National
Trust — a nongovernmental charity founded in 1895 — owns over
six hundred thousand acres of countryside, six hundred miles of coastline,
and two hundred historic buildings and gardens. It has over three million
members who elect half of its fifty-two-person governing council (the other
half are appointed by nonprofit organizations that share the trust’s
goals). In the United States, there are now over fifteen hundred Trebah-like
trusts, protecting over nine million acres. On top of that, the fifty-five-year-old
Nature Conservancy protects more than fifteen million acres.
Let’s posit, then, a generic institution, the common property trust.
It’s a special kind of trust that manages assets that come from the
commons and are meant to be preserved as commons. Common property trusts
manage these assets first and foremost on behalf of future generations. They
may have secondary beneficiaries, such as public education or residents of
a particular locale, but such living beneficiaries take backseats to the
yet-to-be-born. These trusts carry out their missions by owning and managing
bundles of property rights. Here are two examples from my own backyard: the
Marin Agricultural Land Trust (MALT) and the Pacific Forest Trust (PFT).
The demise of family farms and the loss of open space around cities are seemingly
unstoppable trends. Yet in Marin County, just north of San Francisco, family-owned
dairy, sheep, and cattle ranches have survived. A big reason is that ranchers
there have an option: selling conservation easements to MALT.
A conservation easement is a voluntary agreement between a landowner and
a trust that permanently limits uses of the land. The owner continues to
own and use the land and may sell it or pass it on to her heirs. However,
the owner gives up some of the rights associated with the land — for
example, the right to build additional houses on it or to clear-cut trees.
The trust that acquires the easement makes sure its terms are followed by
the current as well as future owners.
In Marin County, MALT has preserved nearly forty thousand
acres of farmland by buying conservation easements
from ranchers. This represents
about
a third of the land currently farmed. The
ranchers receive the difference between
what the land would be worth if developed
and what
it’s worth as a
working farm. In effect, they’re
paid to be land stewards and to forgo
future capital
gains.
Most of MALT’s money comes from public sources. What the public receives
isn’t an old-fashioned commons of shared pasturage, but a lasting pastoral
landscape and a viable agricultural economy. That’s not a bad alternative
to suburban sprawl.
In much the same way, the Pacific Forest Trust acquires what it calls working
forest conservation easements from private woodlands owners. Some of the
easements are purchased, others are donated by owners in exchange for tax
benefits. Here again, owners keep their land but agree to forgo nonforest
development and to harvest trees sustainably.
PFT’s goal is to protect not only forests themselves but the many
species that live in them, as well as the ecosystem services — such
as clean water and carbon absorption — that forests provide. As with
MALT, some of PFT’s money comes from public sources. In return, the
public gets healthy forests for considerably less than it would cost to buy
and manage them outright. read
the whole chapter