We Won

We won.

The headline was buried beneath Covid-19 and the economy. Under the presidential campaign and healthcare, too.

But activists across the globe should stand and salute.

The battle for water in Snake Valley, Nevada, began 31 years ago, when Las Vegas developers decided the best use for the aquifer under the Nevada-Utah desert would be in swimming pools and casino fountains.

They planned to bury a pipeline 300 miles, more than half the length of Nevada, to deliver water to gamblers.

Las Vegas was thirsty.

Snake Valley was home to fewer residents in the entire 2000-square-mile valley than the nightly capacity of a single medium-sized Las Vegas hotel.

But those residents liked their home and liked their water, all 65 billion gallons of it.

Developers offered to buy the water for millions of dollars -- the residents could even keep the desert land.

The residents declined.

Developers increased the cash.

Residents just said no.

The water was not for sale.

Battle lines were drawn: Good versus Greed.

The water was the prize, but the lesson was in means to the end.

For 31 years, Snake Valley residents and their allies resisted the developers with respect and tenacity.

Nobody threw guts on the governor.

Nobody used social media to incite violence.

Nobody instigated terrorist acts, even when goaded.

Ranchers who owned most of the water realized they needed help.

They joined forces with environmental activist groups even when neither agreed to all of the other’s principles.

Vegetarians who wanted to protect endangered frogs worked side by side with cattle producers who had never paid attention to the frogs, never thought to wonder whether the frogs lived anywhere else in the world.

Their reasons didn’t matter because they all wanted the water to stay in Snake Valley.

After a while, the ranchers began to care about the frogs and the vegetarians began to understand how cattle nourish humans.

Each of the coalition members brought important skills to the battle.  

There was Cecil Garland, a former Montanan who worked to create the Bob Marshall Wilderness before he bought a remote ranch at the north end of Snake Valley. Cecil could spin a tale like no one else, and taught us all why we should care about water and Snake Valley

There was Dean Baker, a rancher who owned the vast majority of the Snake Valley water. Dean was a quiet man in a denim jacket who refused to lose his temper – in public, anyway – and who used skills he learned on his high school debate team to just say no.

There was JoAnne Garrett, a fiery environmental activist who once asked a cattleman why he didn’t sell all his cows and protect the desert by planting soybeans to feed protein to the world. The cattleman answered with a simplified version of soil health and plant needs and the two became lifelong friends.

Cecil, Dean and JoAnne were among the first generation who showed us that results are inevitable only if we accept that they are inevitable.

They died before Judge Robert Estes made a final decision on March 10, but the second generation carried on.

In these times of belligerent confrontation, they taught all of us how to resist with dignity and humanity.

Responsibly.

Insistently.

Respectfully.

Intelligently.

In the battle between Sampson and Goliath, this Sampson gathered allies, made friends, explained reasons and showed all of us why we should care.

They rejected the inevitable until it was no longer inevitable.

I tip my hat to you, Snake Valley Water Warriors.

You won.

For all of us.

Thanks for the lessons.