Friends with vision having a chat in the Tetons: Jane Goodall and Yvon Chouinard. Jackson Hole has become a springboard not only for the American conservation ethic that shines brightly in Greater Yellowstone, but it inspires Goodall and Chouinard to confront global environmental challenges with the best way they know—leading by example. Photo by Todd Wilkinson
by Todd Wilkinson
There’s something about the Tetons that inspires people to rise undaunted in defense of nature.
Seriously, there is.
A similar kind of benevolent instinct and pluck is present in many corners of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, but perhaps it’s the intensity and jarring visual loom of these mountains that infuses something extra into people who intersect with Jackson Hole.
I’m not talking about how the peaks inspire notions of athletic conquest or getting our amygdalas to fire with short-term adrenalin rushes. I’m writing here about the remarkable group of people in Jackson Hole who were able to pause, suspend their attitudes of self-absorption and ponder a longer timeframe.
The east side of the Tetons have played a crucial role in establishing our ecosystem as “the cradle of American wildlife conservation.” One reason is because there was so much at stake—and much more that we could lose today.
In so many ways, it was fitting and certainly of no surprise that within days of each other this past autumn, two expressions of heroic human green advocacy were demonstrated—and both possessed Jackson Hole connections.
Yvon Chouinard, cofounder of the global clothing brand Patagonia and a longtime denizen of Jackson Hole, announced a family business decision that has resounded around the world.
And then, unrelated yet totally related to what Chouinard said, one of Earth’s most recognized living conservation icons, Jane Goodall, made a pitstop in Jackson Hole to visit her close friend, Tom Mangelsen, and also receive the Murie Spirit of Conservation Award.
A quick primer here for readers who aren’t familiar with the Murie name. The honor is named after two couples who, for several decades during the 20th century, called Jackson Hole home while carrying out groundbreaking wildlife research and advocacy for wilderness and wildlife preservation in Greater Yellowstone and Alaska.
Two half sisters, Margaret E. “Mardy” and Louise, married Olaus Murie and his half brother, Adolph Murie. Both of the latter were forerunning conservation biologists and authors of reports, critiques and books on elk, coyotes, wolves and grizzlies. While Olaus made recommendations that the boundaries of Grand Teton National Park be expanded, that the Gallatin Range be protected to safeguard its high wildlife values, and pushed for creation of the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge in Montana, Adolph was also making important conservation contributions. He stepped forward into the breaches of public debate and rendered pronouncements that seemed outlandish to livestock producers yet positioned him as a thinker well ahead of his time.
Adolph Murie expounded upon and was punished by the U.S. Biological Survey for daring to assert that eradicating carnivores—bears, wolves, mountain lions, coyotes and raptors—from the West was a horrible idea, ecologically speaking.
All of the above were tenacious proponents of protecting the last, best untrammeled tracts of public land that remained and elevating them to wilderness status. God wasn't making more wild country of that caliber, they said, and it was vital to the health of wildlife and humans needing peace of mind.
For younger folk reading this piece, it’s important to note that the Murie foursome and their offspring embraced conservation as an inseparable extension of their being. They became famous for their advocacy but they did not court fame; far from it, they said things that were unpopular in their time and left them socially alienated, but what they did is one of the reasons why Greater Yellowstone is a beacon for wildlife.
They weren’t alone. Throw in the pioneering wildlife research of Frank and John Craighead, people like Ted Major who founded the Teton Science Schools, biologist Luna Leopold (son of renowned ecologist Aldo Leopold) who lived nearby, business titan John D. Rockefeller Jr. who acquired ranches that enabled Grand Teton to reach its presented protected splendor, and many others.
They have come to epitomize the very poignant truism, possible for any person to practice and achieve, that among the highest virtues is striving to become a member of the Good Ancestors Club. It’s a truly venerable group to which one can belong but does not necessarily take doing things that ripple around the world, as Chouinard and Goodall have done.
Wild bison roam a portion of Grand Teton National Park where once there were private cattle ranches. The animals, descended from bison in Yellowstone that survived near extinction, wandered into the park decades ago and found a home. Owed to conservation ancestors of a century ago and carrying forward to today with elders like Chouinard, Goodall, their contemporaries and younger generations, parts of the American West are only protected because citizens rose in defense of wild nature when it mattered most. Photo by Todd Wilkinson
Now, back to our story:
On Sept. 14, 2022, it was reported that Chouinard, his wife Malinda Pennoyer Chouinard, and their grown children, son, Fletcher, and daughter, Claire, were donating—giving away—their ownership in Patagonia (arguably the most prestigious outdoor brand today) and placing the net value of the company into a couple of nonprofits.
The net effect is that the company will continue to make its line of clothing and other products, but instead of doing so under the pervasive capitalistic paradigm of an American company measuring performance on generating profit that comes from consuming the planet, the money Patagonia generates now will go to support causes, groups and individuals who bravely step forward to save it.
That’s right, the gist of the maneuver is to make a statement; to send a shot across the bow of industries everywhere, that the 8 billion humans on Earth are not going to consume our way out of the climate change crisis, nor, by extension, grow our way out of serious and mounting land stewardship challenges in regions like Greater Yellowstone that represent rare outposts for native wildlife diversity.
No slouch when it comes to Murie-esque activism on behalf of protecting native species like wolves, grizzlies, bison and public lands, Malinda Chouinard eschews public attention but is deserving of mention.
Climate change as an existential issue, as interpreted by Chouinard, is the subject of the final chapter in my book, “Ripple Effects: How to Save Yellowstone and America’s Most Iconic Wildlife Ecosystem.” Chouinard is a blunt-talking pragmatist; he believes the jury of future generations is still out on whether they will look back and say we did enough for them and living non-human beings.
We are long past the point, Chouinard says, of giving businesses which profit off nature a pass when it comes to the moral and ethical responsibility of protecting what remains of wild earth. Chouinard is not only calling them out, but he has positioned Patagonia to lead by example of what a company can do. And his message is remarkably similar to that of Goodall who, by the way, has become an outspoken advocate for protecting Jackson Hole Grizzly 399, her cubs, and other wildlife in Greater Yellowstone.
Before a jam-packed crowd at the Jackson Hole Center for the Arts on the night she received the Murie Spirit of Conservation Award, which is administered by the Teton Science Schools that oversee the Murie Center, Goodall gently derided the selfish, self-focused, me-me-me attitude of thinking about nature only in terms of what we can extract from it.
Indeed, she said, the survival of species and landscapes that offer them home face many mounting challenges. It’s easy to get discouraged or feel depressed. But hope resides in the spirit of trying to make positive contributions to things larger than ourselves and personal egos.
Hope was a word mentioned prominently when Goodall shared stories about her evolution, from being the daughter of a mother barely eking out a living in the wake of World War II in England, and how economic hardship prevented Goodall from being able to attend college. Circumstances, she said, might otherwise have destined her to become a secretary. She was, after all, not the product of English blue bloods.
The kind of hope practiced by Chouinard and Goodall—and other conservationists—does not emerge from focus groups or remaining stubbornly entrenched in the zone of comfort and convenience. It does not float on the efforts of fair-weather activists who view advocacy as a game played to win popularity or curry favor with drinking buddies; very often, it is the opposite of that.
Instead, an invitation from a friend led her to Kenya and then a circumstantial meeting with Dr. Richard Leakey. Leakey, legendary for his contributions to human evolution, hired her on a short-term assignment: to make field observations about wild chimpanzees living in a stretch of rainforest known as Gombe.
Goodall documented that chimps, whose DNA is 98 percent similar to ours, could use tools. The discovery was featured in National Geographic magazine.
Grunt field work for less pay, also known as “paying one’s dues” in order to gain experience, opened doors for Goodall. Thanks to Leakey, who helped her with money she didn’t have, she was accepted to study at the University of Cambridge and received a Bachelor of Arts degree in natural sciences, while at the same time earning a PhD in ethology from the new Darwin College.
In Jackson Hole, Goodall spoke of hope as a motivating wellspring for people who feel powerless in challenging times. Chouinard, too, subscribes to a similar kind of thinking. It comes down to taking personal responsibility and not waiting for friends or other businesses to take the lead.
The kind of hope practiced by Chouinard and Goodall—and other conservationists—does not emerge from focus groups or remaining stubbornly entrenched in the zone of comfort and convenience. It does not float on the efforts of fair-weather activists who view advocacy as a game played to win popularity or curry favor with drinking buddies; very often, it is the opposite of that.
Today, we are beneficiaries of those who came before us; where would we be if they had capitulated to developers and natural resource plunderers?
The most meaningful kind of hope, Goodall and the Chouinards believe, is that which does not promise an immediate return or reward but involves striving to overcome adversity sometimes when the odds seem stacked against us.
This kind of hope is radical, audacious and risky, but it is the only kind, as personified by the Muries, the Chouinards and Goodall, that has given us a magnificent fabric of wildlife-rich lands like Greater Yellowstone.
Tom Mangelsen, who is counted among the finest nature photographers in the world and, like Chouinard and Goodall has been profiled on "60 Minutes," says his friends Chouinard, Goodall and Mardy and Weezy Murie inspired him to be more outspoken. He is best known today for ardent advocacy for Jackson Hole Grizzly 399 and other bears. Photo courtesy of Tom Mangelsen
Had the creation of Yellowstone National Park 150 years ago been left up to politicians in our region, who despised the federal government and regulation, America’s first park would not exist as it does today, nor would Grand Teton, nor healthy populations of bison, grizzly bears, wolves, elk, trumpeter swans, dam-free rivers and a multibillion-dollar nature tourism economy.
There would be homes and residential subdivisions lining the Yellowstone, Snake, Gallatin, Madison and other rivers as well as the shores of Yellowstone and Jackson lakes inside the national parks. The last 23 bison in Yellowstone would likely have been slaughtered by poachers, grizzlies would never have been recovered, and bears like 399 might not exist. Wolves would not have been brought back, the unfragmented public lands and diversity of wildlife that sets Greater Yellowstone apart would also have been steamrolled by the still-ongoing force of Manifest Destiny, which is to say total domination of nature in order to appease human desires.
As Chouinard and Goodall say, what good is capitalism, individual liberty and freedom that puts individuals above the good of society and results in a wrecked planet?
Some revisionists today have tried to portray the Muries and those who followed them as shrinking violets. They were not. They held their ground unyielding, guarding places that served as the last refuges of wildlife.
For her part, Goodall gently shamed the research laboratories in academia and private industry that used chimps as guinea pigs for cruel and inhumane experiments; she’s pressed governments and conservation organizations to help local people in Africa and elsewhere better make a living than cutting down forests, trading wildlife in the black market or selling chimps as pets or bushmeat.
Of local interest, Goodall, too, has condemned the practice of sport hunting grizzlies and wolves as trophies, likening it to hunters who once targeted animals like chimps and gorillas. Highly social and sentient, it is crude and abhorrent thinking, Goodall says, to take the lives of grizzlies and wolves in order to sate human egos, earn bragging rights in a saloon or turn them into head mounts on the wall or floor rugs.
While Goodall is a U.N. Ambassador of Peace, she is not beyond calling out people who forsake their duty to care about the plight of beings (human and nonhuman). Chouinard has laid down the same kind of criticism on companies and politicians who pander to shareholders and influential campaign contributors who put self-interest ahead of the well-being of society and nature.
The Tetons in Jackson Hole and Grand Teton National Park, fronted by the Oxbow Bend of the Snake River. The Oxbow is known as one of the best places for diverse wildlife watching in America. We should never forget, however, that had conservation efforts failed in the 1930s and 1940s, very likely stretches of the river today would be girded by trophy homes and resorts with motorboats plying the water. Some old guard Jackson Hole families claimed that creating Grand Teton Park and expanding its boundaries would destroy the Jackson Hole economy. Not only were the opponents of conservation wrong but fortunately they were overruled. Photo by Todd Wilkinson
“Yvon, Malinda and Jane have way above-average courage, stamina and passion,” Jackson Hole nature photographer Tom Mangelsen told me. “Jane went to Gombe as a young woman, spent long stretches out in the bush on her own, and from then until now has given her voice to protecting chimps and the ecosystems they inhabit. Yvon had the courage to climb mountains. Patagonia was really born because Yvon, as a blacksmith, realized climbing equipment was not as safe as it could be. But each of them—Jane from her foundation of being a scientist and Yvon as the consummate funhog and businessman—evolved in their thinking and became advocates. From humble beginnings, they both have changed the way we think about the world. Their message is that all of us can make a difference.”
If I have one quibble with the Murie Spirit of Conservation Award, it is this: shouldn't need to be a celebrity in order to qualify for receiving the honor. I can give the Murie Award’s nominating committee a long list of local people, living and posthumous, who have made major contributions to safeguarding Jackson Hole and the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.
Not to diminish the virtues of other Murie award recipients, but in Jackson Hole and Greater Yellowstone, many unsung advocates have been in the trenches, helping to bring forth a new path of ecological thinking. They too have been giants of courage in defending the earth. They never gave into cynicism; they had hope that we could do better and they've shown how it can be done.
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Previous Winners of the Murie Spirit of Conservation Award
Rose Marcario, Board Member, Advisor, and Former CEO of Patagonia, Inc.
Robert Stanton, first African American to be appointed as Director of the National Park Service, serving from 1997-2001.
Jimmy Chin, Academy Award-winning filmmaker, National Geographic photographer and mountain sports athlete.
Bert Raynes, local conservation and wildlife advocate.
Sally Jewell, Former US Secretary of the Interior under the Obama Administration.
Harrison Ford, Actor and Vice-Chair of Conservation International, a global nonprofit dedicated to building a healthier, more prosperous and more productive planet.
John Turner, a Jackson Hole native. Notably, former President of the Wyoming State Senate, Director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Oceans and International Environmental and Scientific Affairs.
Luther Propst, Founder of The Sonoran Institute, conservation leader in policy and projects focused on core issues (sustainable water, land use, community development) that define how the West is growing and changing.
Gretchen Long, founding board member of The Murie Center of Teton Science Schools, current board member of The National Park Advisory Board (among many others, former and current), and committed advocate for conserving America’s treasured parks and wilderness areas.
Dr. George Schaller and Dr. Robert Krear, esteemed field biologists and global conservationists who traveled with the Muries on their 1956 Sheenjek Expedition that set in motion the effort to protect what is now the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
Addie Donnan, community leader in Jackson Hole and founding chair of The Murie Center and Teton Science Schools emeritus board member.
About Todd Wilkinson
Todd Wilkinson, founder of Mountain Journal, is author of the book Ripple Effects: How to Save Yellowstone and American's Most Iconic Wildlife Ecosystem. Wilkinson has been writing about Greater Yellowstone for 35 years and is a correspondent to publications ranging from National Geographic to The Guardian. He is author of several books on topics as diverse as scientific whistleblowers and Ted Turner, and a book about the harrowing story of Jackson Hole grizzly mother 399, the most famous bear in the world which features photographs by Thomas Mangelsen. For more information on Wilkinson, click here. (Photo by David J Swift).
