LANDER, Col. -- In December 2000, the Nature Conservancy's Colorado science director was asked to sign documents certifying that certain cattle ranches were environmentally sound.
The director, Jerry Freilich, refused. He knew from his own study that the pounding hooves of cattle could harm the fragile ecologies of the arid West. And he had never visited the ranches in question.
His boss wasn't pleased. "He grabbed me roughly by the arms and threw me around the room," Freilich recalled. The supervisor, Dave Neary, then allegedly ordered: "You're going to sign right this minute or you're out."
Freilich signed, left and complained to the police. He and the Conservancy reached a settlement in July 2001; Freilich said he cannot discuss the terms, but said the incident showed that the Conservancy cared more about donors than science. Neary declined to comment through a Conservancy spokesman.
Conservancy officials said that Freilich's refusal to sign sparked an altercation. They said the "pushing" had nothing to do with any desire to placate ranchers who donated to the Conservancy. The officials also said Freilich had submitted his resignation three months earlier, and they claimed he said the task was not among his remaining responsibilities.
Freilich and other Conservancy scientists have questioned the organization's stated commitment to science. Some complain that science is trumped by other concerns, including a focus on fundraising, according to a 2001 study commissioned by the Conservancy to review its science.
The study -- "Report of the External Science Review Committee" -- included results of a poll of Conservancy scientists and an accompanying analysis. The document, obtained by The Washington Post, cited low morale, a "disturbing level of concern and frustration" and worries that the Conservancy "may have drifted from its original foundation in strong science."
"The role of scientists . . . is insufficiently valued in TNC and much less valued than that of fundraisers," said one scientist who was not identified in the report, referring to the Conservancy by its initials. The study includes these unattributed comments:
"There is no long-term career path for scientists in TNC. All focuses are [on] fundraising."
"There are a lot of TNC folks like me out there who do work on the ground that would not pass academic [or] scientific muster."
The Conservancy's literature states that its decisions are based on "the best available science." Over the last 30 years, its researchers inventoried the nation's plants and animals for a widely used guide, and painstakingly identified 64 U.S. "eco-regions."
But its scientific efforts have faced turmoil and change in recent years.
In February 2001, 65 of the 95 scientists based at the organization's Arlington headquarters were reassigned to a new spin-off, the Association for Biodiversity Information. Incoming Conservancy President Steven J. McCormick then sent the others out to state chapters, leaving three "lead scientists." Since renamed NatureServe, the free-standing science nonprofit attempts to sell the Conservancy's biological data. The new group is subsidized by a seven-year, $40 million Conservancy loan.
In the 2001 poll, some scientists described the reorganization as a mistake. "The Conservancy divested itself of most of its technical expertise and personnel in biodiversity information management," one unidentified staffer said.
Scientists also blasted their own administrators for being unsympathetic to science.
"There is less financial support for science . . . now than in [the] past," one scientist said.
"My team is pushed so hard to meet TNC-mandated deadlines that they don't have time for robust science," said another.
In an interview, McCormick praised the report as "terrific" and said he was "just going to enact those recommendations." Shortly after becoming president, he hired the report's primary author, John A. Wiens, as one of his lead scientists.
McCormick defended the decision to dismantle the Conservancy's central science division and disperse its more than 100 scientists to NatureServe or chapter offices. "We weren't doing applied science," he said. "It was too theoretical and not being conveyed out to the field."
But Freilich says his situation shows that the problems go deeper.
"I'm living proof that [scientific] oversight is minimal," he said. "We did three years of research on the impact of ranching but didn't publish anything. They never did support it. Why? Because they want to get along with the ranchers."
Jim Patterson, a Conservancy spokesman, said Freilich's research may be published in the future and that the data are available for use by the Conservancy.
"It's not stifled," Patterson said.
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