One statistic jumped out of
the morning paper and jolted my brain.
The news was that
America’s population will hit 300 million sometime during the third
week of October. But it wasn’t that landmark figure that jarred my
morning reverie. It was this: The United States population has
grown from 200 million to 300 million since 1967. That7;s the year
I was born.
In my lifetime, which seems short enough, the
United States population has grown by half. Remember the old
Coca-Cola jingles about “200 million people?” I do.
No
wonder it’s getting hard to find an uncrowded fishing spot anymore.
I live in a state known for its lack of population: Montana.
Montana has fewer than 1 million people. So in my lifetime, the
United States has grown by more than 100 Montanas. Yet it has not
gained one square inch more space.
“We are not the
wide-open spaces anymore,” said Martha Farnsworth Riche,
demographer at Cornell University. “Our choices are constrained.”
This seems increasingly obvious, whether you are stuck in
a Los Angeles freeway or seeking a quiet corner of the forest for
the open day of hunting season. Some demographers praise population
growth — calling it evidence that America remains a vibrant
and attractive nation. Being the great-great grandson of
immigrants, and having seen the urban slums and rural poverty in
Mexico, I cannot blame the people who long to become Americans. And
knowing the joy of raising a child, I would never deny it to
anyone.
But I cannot buy into the common American faith
that “more” equals “better.” I see no need to “supersize” the
U.S.A. In much of Montana, the problem with growth is there isn’t
any of it. In the Great Plains, farm towns are becoming ghost
towns. It’s downright eerie — and sad — to watch it
happen.
But in western, mountainous Montana, where I
live, the population boom is in your face, every day. Like much of
the scenic West, our traffic is getting more congested, our water
is getting dirtier, crimes are growing deadlier, and the working
farms and ranches we so appreciate are being diced, paved and
parceled. This Western phenomenon, in its way, is equally
heartbreaking to witness.
Certainly, there must be an
alternative to a mad dash over a cliff and a slow crawl to a
certain death. What is it? I don’t exactly know.
But I do
believe this: There are many things that make the American West a
wonderful place in which to exist. These include open land where
one is free to hunt, fish and roam; clean, rushing rivers; a chance
to gaze at a dazzling night sky full of stars; days spent alone or
with a few friends amid the sounds and sights of nature, not the
sounds and smells of machines and traffic; sharing the world with
big, wild creatures that evoke a deep sense of excitement. These
are the treasures that I long to pass on to my son.
And,
in just under 40 years, I have seen one place after another lose
those things. Gradually lost, but lost forever. The tradeoffs of
strip malls and sprawl seem a raw deal indeed.
I have
seen some gains too. Americans now have more grizzly bears, more
wolves and more bald eagles and more formally protected wilderness
areas in the West than the day I was born.
This is no
accident. This is the result of vision and work, dating to the days
of Theodore Roosevelt, who protected 250 million acres for all
Americans. In T.R.’s day, there were fewer than 100 million
Americans. Now that was visionary leadership.
One hundred
million human lives in the past 40 years. Mine is just one of them.
To me, we are 100 million more reasons to think of the future and
work to keep the American West a place of joy, wonder and
adventure.
Ben Long is a contributor to Writers
on the Range, a service of High Country News in
Paonia, Colorado (hcn.org). He is a writer in Kalispell,
Montana.
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