This is the third in a series of profiles written especially for Maven’s Notebook by Emily DeMarco. The first in the series was Melinda Terry of the North Delta Water Agency, followed by the Natural Resources Defense Council’s Kate Poole. The last profile in the series looks at Chuck Bonham, the Director of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. All profiles can be accessed in perpetuity at the Profiles page in the Resources section.
Last January, Chuck Bonham sat down in Siskiyou County with a group of residents—including ranchers, farmers, miners, water users, and conservationists—to talk about natural resources and wildlife management in the area. Right off the bat, the talk turned contentious as one resident expressed his frustration with what he saw as the California Department of Fish and Wildlife’s (CDFW) history of protecting the region’s salmon at the expense of its people.
In response, Bonham reached over, shook the man’s hand—the two had never met before—and told him a story.
During his first year as Director of CDFW, Bonham had judged a wildlife photography contest on the steps of the State Capitol. The photo that he selected showed two birds flying in opposite directions, each bird holding one end of the same fish in its talons. And Bonham identified with that fish, saying “that’s kinda what it feels like to be at the Department.” The tension in the room dissipated ever so slightly.
He followed up by acknowledging that the man had a point. An “institutional or cultural element” of the Department in the County probably had not done enough to address his complaints. But Bonham also reaffirmed his confidence in the dedication of the CDFW’s approximately 2,500 employees and his belief that “if someone tells you it’s a choice between fish or farms, between people or the environment, you tell them it’s hogwash. It’s not true. The operative word isn’t or. It’s and.”
Bonham grew up in Georgia and South Carolina—both states with reputations for their storytelling and their hospitality. As a red-headed kid, he went fishing with his grandfather and over time fell in love with rivers and moving water. He worked as a teacher and guide at the Nantahala Outdoor Center in Bryson City, North Carolina for a spell following a two-year service in Senegal with the Peace Corps. For most people, shooting rapids on the Nantahala raises questions such as: “Am I going to hit that rock?”
For Bonham, the river raised a different challenge:
Did his enjoyment of nature and the outdoors mean that he had some responsibility to help restore and protect it for the fulfillment of future generations?
It takes a stout heart to listen to that still, small voice—call it your gut or your god—that helps guide and direct us. Bonham listened to his and enrolled at Lewis & Clark Law School in Portland. Following graduation, he joined Trout Unlimited, one of the oldest trout and salmon conservation organizations in the country, and when they offered him the paddle to guide their California program in 2004, that same voice—and his love of fly fishing—convinced him to accept “before they could take away the opportunity.”
In his first two years as head of the CDFW, Bonham has spent a great deal of time, as you might expect, enmeshed in data and hashing out policy, but he has also been supporting his staff, seeking common ground with constituents, and incessantly telling stories. He sprinkles discussions on the Bay Delta Conservation Plan, lead ammunition, and salmon restoration with references to Winston Churchill, the Talking Heads, young monks, old monks, Dr. Seuss, and Einstein.
He’s trying to craft a new narrative around the Department’s work, confronting what he believes to be widespread misperceptions about its mission. “The majority of Californians haven’t put the puzzle together in their minds that the CDFW is the department caring for the resources and environment that they enjoy and want their kids to enjoy . . . We need to go out and explain ourselves better. Our constituents are each and every Californian in the state.”
Bonham has sought to do some of that explaining himself, and the Siskiyou County meeting is an example of his willingness to engage in these necessary but difficult conversations in order to build relationships between his agency and the rest of California.
He remains motivated by a dedicated staff that makes CDFW the “most effective arm for conservation” in California, and he’s spent substantial time and energy making sure they know he’s behind them. At meetings, he often asks any CDFW staff in the audience to stand up to be recognized and thanked. He directed the launch of the Department’s Science Institute, which highlights the work of the agency’s scientists and is just one piece of a multi-phase project that includes science symposiums and an online version of the California Fish and Game scientific journal.
Like rapids on a river, natural resource disputes in California are navigated with difficulty, if at all. They often implicate the core values and livelihoods of groups with seemingly irreconcilable interests: farmers, fishermen, environmentalists, water users and so on. Everyone knows that these labels miss a great deal of nuance in individuals’ preferences, and stories—rich, complex narratives—offer a path around Intractable Conflict as they locate our private interests in the constellation of the common good.
Bonham believes that the best results that he’s seen to these types of disputes “have come from unlikely allies getting tired of the status quo and getting together and working out a solution.” A firm handshake and good story go a long way towards getting those tough conversations moving in the right direction.
Emily DeMarco is pursuing a master of environmental science and management at the Bren School at the University of California, Santa Barbara. She is currently specializing in water resources management and environmental communication.
