It's clear the rural American West is in transition. Ways of life, deeply rooted in the culture of ranching, mining and logging, are challenged by new social and economic forces. Immigrants arrive with their wares stored in hard-drives rather than Conestoga wagons. People move to the region for its amenity values--wilderness, clean air, fish, wildlife and recreation as well as economic opportunity.

Unfortunately, many new residents lack an appreciation for the region's complex ecological and social forces. They build second homes in forests prone to wildfires, complain to ranchers about smelly sheep and cattle and subdivide valuable wildlife habitat and then complain about nuisance wildlife. Rural customs and values collide with urban ways.

Tragically, conflict moves people of the rural West steadily toward both resentment and confrontation. Identifying the barriers to building trust and mutual respect is key to resolving the region's conflicts.

Two weeks ago, I attended the annual meeting of the Greater Yellowstone Coalition in West Yellowstone, Montana. I expected the usual fare associated with such gatherings—a heavy emphasis on improved environmental quality through increased governmental regulation and agency reform. Instead, I witnessed a shift in the "conventional wisdom." Increasingly, policy makers, community leaders and concerned individuals are discovering that top-down regulatory control fails to restore, enhance or preserve environmental quality.

This new view is called "community-based conservation." One of its fundamental tenants is that trust is central to devising long-term solutions to environmental problems. If the "New West" is to flourish trust among neighbors, environmentalists and loggers is essential. Restored trust between federal agencies and local communities would also be welcome.

Federal land management agencies created by Progressive Era policies associated with Teddy Roosevelt are now remote bureaucracies. The organizations are normally insulated from and often insensitive to local values. Frequently they are prevented (by regulatory inflexibility and political pressures) from dealing honestly with citizens. Managers in the Forest Service, Park Service and Bureau of Land Management can't cement a deal with a handshake, help round up livestock during a driving snowstorm, or patch a leaking irrigation ditch on a Saturday.

Good neighbors have done this everywhere, but especially in the rural West. The trust and respect that stems from these acts give the region its unique feel. Unfortunately, trust and respect are scarce resources in today's federal land management process.

Environmentalists and loggers in Quincy, California, had been involved in a typically entrenched, polarized and nasty debate over managing the Plumas National Forest. Three years, ago there was a breakthrough, as timber industry representatives and enviros wanted out of their futile battle. Both sides started meeting at the community library.

A consensus plan for managing the 2.5 million acres of surrounding national forest emerged. The Quincy Library Group identified areas in need of thinning to improve wildlife habitat and reduce the risk of fire. Ecologically and aesthetically valuable areas were marked "off limits." The plan made ecological and economic sense. It was hailed as a model for resolving conflict. When the White House picked the nation's Christmas tree from the Plumas National Forest and the Department of Agriculture (the Forest Service's parent agency) promised to fund the plan. It was on the fast-track to success.

When things seem to good too be true, they usually are. In this case, the Library Group was blind-sided by the salvage logging rider attached to the 1996 budget. The salvage rider, designed to speed the harvest of dead trees, insulates salvage sales from citizen appeals and mandates the Forest Service to offer almost 5 billion board feet of "salvage" timber this year. When the salvage orders came down the pipe, the Forest Service told the group, "Sorry, all bets are off."

This example of Soviet-style centralized planning places talented and hardworking Forest Service professionals in a pressure cooker of conflicting values. Conflict and frustration are the result, making agency employees retreat from the land and communities. Teddy Roosevelt's well intentioned, but naive, idea that benevolent, centralized bureaucracies would stop the abuses of the nation's natural resources and provide a measure of social and economic stability has proven a failure. Sadly, the results are devastating both the West's communities and ecosystems.

Creating new approaches to natural resource management challenges politicians of all stripes. This alone is clear: successful reforms must support local communities and ecosystems. Sound ecology and economics must mesh with the region's shifting cultural values. The task will be complex and thankless. But the politician who crafts policies based on these principles will help usher a new era of natural resource management and earn the title of conservationist in the best tradition of TR.