I ain’t a politician but I got views by John C. Street

“This is the coalition to ban coalitions, I ain’t a politician but I got views.  Some folks want to ban cars, some want to get rid of electric guitars, why don’t you do you’re thing and I’ll do my thing too.”  Merle Haggard 

In the last five years, I’ve dropped membership in all the clubs, associations and organizations to which an outdoor writer would be expected to belong; seven in all, notably including both the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association and the Outdoor Writers Association of America. 

When asked “Why”, my response – depending on the affiliations of the inquisitor – has ranged from, “Because I don’t play well with others” to, “My personal philosophy doesn’t jibe with theirs.” As different as they sound, both responses amount to the same thing.  

Yet, while both those responses are true, they only tell half the story.  The other half would include an honest admission that I’m not as naive as I used to be and, as a consequence, I’ve become more and more averse to compromise.  In other words, I’ve become color blind to all the shades of gray I used to see. The world, or, at least my little corner of it, now appears either black or white.    

There are several problems associated with this transformation that might not be readily apparent.  Sure, there are the typical accusations that I’m “turning into a goody-two-shoe” but I don’t really consider that a problem.  The real problems arise when I am required to deal with people and organizations that have opinions that run counter to mine. 

A couple years ago, for instance, a well known gun writer opined on his web site that “assault weapons” didn’t belong in the field.  I read his argument and frankly agreed with him.  I even went so far as to write a column in his defense when he was tarred-and-feathered by pro gun advocates.   

After watching the way the antis latched onto his comments, however, I experienced an epiphany; both this gun writer and I (applying what I’m sure we both felt was logic and common sense) believed that being willing to compromise would bring a similar reaction from the anti gunners.  It didn’t. The inches we gave up turned into miles of free public relations and advertising for the anti gun movement.   

This is not a carte blanc endorsement of anyone who proposes setting up a quad-fifty in their deer stand or taking a rocket launcher to the varmint fields.  It is simple an affirmation that on issues dealing with the Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America, I shall broach no further compromise.  And that’s the long and the short – and the black and the white – of it.  

Back in the mid 1990s, a couple of the “nature” organizations I belonged to started to make less than subtle soirees into the “environmental” arena and, at the time, I tended to agree with them.  Who, after all, isn’t for clean air and water. 

I’d originally been attracted to these organizations because of their publications which dealt primarily with the natural history of the furred, finned and feathered critters that had fascinated me since I was a kid.  Little by little, however, their soirees into environmentalism turned into full blown excursions and the excursions turned into a zip-code confirmed residency.  I knew the organization’s transformation was complete when their publications began to read more like pantheistic religious literature than a wildlife text.   

Interestingly, though, the final straw came when one of these organizations sent their premier writer on a disingenuous mission to explain why gut-piles (i.e., the role of hunting in wildlife management) were no longer being discussed in their magazine. “We’re still pro hunting,” this writer parroted.  But the organization’s actions – and the remainder of their magazine’s contents - spoke louder than their premier writer’s words.  And their words were extolling the virtues of the “New World Order” being orchestrated by the United Nations.   

Back in the heady days of the late 1990s when I was working very hard to break into the profession of outdoor writing, I set my sites on becoming a member of both my state and the national outdoor writers associations.  Membership in these august entities requires an applicant to not only provide evidence that they had substantial work published, but that they have been paid for their work as well.  At the end of my first year as a freelance writer, I met their criteria and became a full-fledged, bona fide, card carrying member of both associations. 

However, my country-boy awe of the national group evaporated when the representative of an environmental organization (how did he get into a hook ‘n bullet writer’s organization?) instigated a blow-up with the National Rifle Association and irreparably fractured the membership.  And then, just a few years ago, I saw the same storm clouds forming in the state association and I didn’t have the heart to stick around and watch the process being repeated.     

Over the years I’ve talked with lots of hunters and anglers who belong to the prestigious organizations that focus on one particular species of fish, bird or animal and it always amazes me how little they know about the inner workings of the groups they belong to.  But I do – because I spend an inordinate amount of time researching them – and I’m no longer willing to compromise when their philosophy runs counter to mine. 

So maybe I’ll go start my own group and do my own thing.  After all, “I ain’t a politician but I got views.”