Environmentalists on the Fringe

What liberals and their allies in the environmentalist wacko movement fail to understand is: their message has gotten out. Their anti-capitalist, socialist, gloom-and-doom, fear-based, lunatic ravings have been amplified -- and Americans understand exactly who they are, and what they're about. As the "Mr. Big" of the vast right-wing conspiracy, I am proud, ladies and gentlemen, to play a major part in the exposé leading to their depression.

- Rush Limbaugh April 25, 2005

Currently, about 20 million people tune in to Rush Limbaugh every week. His lingo is now conservative lingua franca. Limbaugh figured out that if you repeat your best lines -- e.g., "environmentalist wackos" -- often enough, they become more than just funny catchphrases; they become a reconfiguration of reality and a call to arms. In his world (and it's a world in which a lot of people live), you can't be an environmentalist and escape wacko-ism.

In Limbaugh, a large group of Americans who felt their country was being taken away from them found an emotional outlet. If his facts didn't always ring true, his anger did. Limbaugh proved that someone with a quick wit and a microphone could wield tremendous power, and his success spawned a legion of copycat shows across the country.

One of them is hosted by John Stokes of KGEZ in Montana's Flathead Valley. Stokes is featured in the new PBS film The Fire Next Time, which premiered on July 12. The documentary was made by Patrice O'Neill and The Working Group, a film company that also works with communities to overcome intolerance. The film follows several groups in Kalispell, Mont., over a two-year period in which their community goes up in flames -- figuratively and literally -- over conflicts about environmental preservation.

Everybody in Kalispell cares about trees. Trees feed the timber industry, help drain the land, attract tourists, and provide habitat for wildlife; and they also catch fire and endanger homes and lives during the annual forest-fire season. Talking about trees in Kalispell means talking about livelihoods and lifestyles, and the valley's different interest groups are like sticks dangerously rubbing together in its drought-plagued forests.

Enter Stokes, radio host and human blowtorch. On environmentalists, Stokes has this to say: "Eradicate 'em. Their message stinks. They're destroying America. And it all came out of the Third Reich. You know, the Third Reich was born out of the environmental community. I don't make it up. It's there." Stokes attends town meetings, holds rallies, and burns green swastikas to protest what he sees as the tyranny of liberals, the U.S. Forest Service, immigrants, the government, and, of course, the people he refers to as "eco-Nazis" and "green Nazis."

"John Stokes came to this valley and all of the sudden the people had a way of telling the truth," says one timber worker featured in the film.

Clearly, Stokes and his listeners are angry. They're angry at the Forest Service and the more uncompromising environmentalists for not letting loggers thin the forests in a way that will (they think) boost the flagging Montana economy and prevent fires. They're angry about losing their timber-industry jobs. They're angry about watching property values soar as millionaires buy weekend ranches in the valley.

During forest-fire season, when the valley's residents are at their most vulnerable, Stokes' provocations are strongest. "Anybody who's ever written a check to the Sierra Club, the Nature Conservancy, Audubon, Citizens for a Better Planet," he says, "hope you're happy with yourself, 'cause we blame you." Stokes warns his listeners to be careful, because "there are eco-arsonist terrorists out there." He holds up a copy of an Earth Liberation Front manual and tells the camera, "They just had a terror training camp in Missoula in June."