It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save

"It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment." — Ansel Adams

Hear these words, O guardians of the earth, and let them stir your souls like the wind that moves through ancient forests. Ansel Adams, the great seer of the natural world, spoke them not in anger alone, but in sorrow and awe — for he, who had spent his life capturing the divine majesty of mountains and rivers, saw with his own eyes the growing war between mankind and the very home that sustains him. When he said, “It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment,” he gave voice to a grief older than civilization itself: the pain of watching those entrusted with stewardship become the agents of destruction. His words are a lament — and a call to arms, not of violence, but of conscience.

To understand the meaning of his words, we must see what Adams saw. He lived in an age when the wild places of America — the Yosemite Valley, the Sierra Nevada, the deserts and forests — were being carved, mined, and drowned in the name of progress. The same government that had once established national parks to preserve these treasures was now giving them away to industry, to pipelines, to profit. For Adams, the betrayal cut deep. Governments, born to serve and protect the people, had forgotten that the earth itself is the first and greatest of all the people’s possessions. The very hand that should have shielded the natural world had instead become the hammer that broke it.

The origin of this quote springs from Adams’s lifelong struggle to awaken others to the sacredness of nature. With his camera, he captured not mere landscapes, but the soul of creation — towering peaks that whispered of eternity, valleys drenched in the tears of ancient rain. Yet his art was not enough to stay the hand of greed. He watched as forests fell and rivers were poisoned, and he saw his beloved wilderness placed on the altar of consumption. It was then that he realized the great irony: that to defend the planet, men and women would have to rise against their own rulers — to battle policies and powers that prized money above life. Thus his words were born, heavy with despair and righteous fire.

Consider the tale of the Hetch Hetchy Valley, once called the twin of Yosemite. It was a place of unimaginable beauty — granite cliffs mirrored in still waters, meadows bursting with life. Yet in 1913, the government approved its destruction, damming the valley to provide water for the city of San Francisco. Conservationists, led by John Muir, fought with all their strength to save it, but the might of politics prevailed. The valley was drowned, and a cathedral of nature was lost forever. Ansel Adams, who knew this story well, carried its lesson in his heart: that progress without wisdom is but a slower form of ruin, and that even governments can betray the sacred trust of creation.

Adams’s warning resounds far beyond his own century. For the struggle he spoke of has not ended — it has merely changed its face. In every age, there are those who destroy forests for profit, who poison the seas for convenience, who trade the breath of future generations for the wealth of a few. And too often, they do so with the blessing of law, the silence of institutions, and the indifference of the powerful. It is indeed horrifying, as Adams said, that the defenders of nature must first defend themselves from their own leaders. But it is also a truth that awakens the spirit — for every act of betrayal summons new voices of courage.

Yet let us not despair. For though governments may err, the people have power — the power to speak, to organize, to bear witness, as Adams did through his art. History shows us that when enough souls unite in defense of what is right, even the mightiest systems must yield. The Clean Air Act, the Endangered Species Act, and the rise of conservation itself were born not from government generosity, but from the will of the people who refused to be silent. The spirit of Ansel Adams burns in every activist who plants a tree, every artist who shows the beauty of the world, every citizen who demands that leaders serve not profit, but the planet that gives us life.

So, my friends, take this as a sacred charge: be defenders of creation. Question authority when it forgets the earth. Stand firm against those who would pave the mountains and silence the rivers. Remember that you are not separate from the world you inhabit — you are its guardian, its steward, its voice. Let no one tell you that the fight for the planet is hopeless; the trees have stood for millennia against storm and flame — can we not stand for them now? Ansel Adams reminds us that the greatest shame is not in the struggle, but in apathy. So rise, and let your actions speak: protect the earth, even when the hand that threatens it bears your own flag.