By Kevin D. Williamson
Friday, January 03, 2020
For the past few months, online retailers of products
such as luxury handbags and wristwatches have been publishing a notice on their
websites: Beginning on January 1, 2020, some of their products cannot be
shipped to California.
The reason? Alligator and crocodile hide.
That’s bad news for, among others, former California
first lady Maria Shriver, who has been photographed carrying an assortment of
crocodile bags from Hermés, a collection worth a few hundred thousand dollars.
(I am reminded here of the time I witnessed National Review editor Rich
Lowry walking into a Manhattan apartment that was quite spacious, in the way a
football arena is spacious, and muttering, “Maybe we should raise taxes
on the rich.”) Other celebrity types love those exotic purses, too: Ashley Olsen,
Kim Kardashian, Jennifer Lopez (Jenny with the croc?), Kirsten Dunst, Sarah
Jessica Parker, BeyoncĂ©, Jada Pinkett-Smith — all have been photographed with
handbags that are today, as far as the powers that be in Hollywood (and
Sacramento) are concerned, contraband.
Beyond handbags, potential offenders include shoes,
wallets, and wristwatch bands.
The campaign to ban the sale of alligator and crocodile
products across state lines into California was led by People for the Ethical
Treatment of Animals, the same group responsible for the cancelation of this
year’s New Year’s Eve possum drop in Andrews, N.C. You cannot ceremonially
lower a possum in North Carolina, but you can still make a handbag out of one
and sell it in California, assuming you can find somebody to buy it. It’s a
funny old world.
The California ban is temporarily on hold thanks to a
lawsuit from Louisiana, the swamps of which are the Silicon Valley of
carnivorous-reptile hides. Louisiana regulates the skin trade intelligently: In
the wild, the majority of alligator eggs never reach maturity — either the eggs
are eaten before they hatch or the young are eaten before they reach adulthood.
(Louisiana is a tough place.) And so the state permits the harvest of
wild-alligator eggs from the swamp nests in which they are laid (it is
difficult to breed alligators in captivity) by entrepreneurs who see to it that
the eggs are hatched and that the young thrive. The portion that would have
been expected to survive in the wild is returned to the wild, and the rest
become purses and cowboy boots and kebabs.
Whether Louisiana’s lawsuit has any merit is a question
for the courts. But what is not up for debate is that the alligator business
has been the main actor in turning around the fortunes of the American
alligator, which once was an endangered species and is today a thriving one.
That is a familiar story. Earlier this year, I was a
guest on Bill Maher’s show, promoting my most recent book. Maher had two great
themes that evening: One was pissing on the grave of the recently deceased
philanthropist David Koch, and the other was demanding to know why the world’s
billionaires do not chip in and buy up land in the Amazon, which is being
deforested, cleared largely by fire for agricultural purposes, something that
the Brazilian government under President Jair Bolsonaro is either unable or
(more likely) unwilling to stop. Maher was and is on to something with that:
Creating property rights in endangered assets is an often-fruitful way of
protecting those assets. What Maher did not know was that this is an idea that
has long been supported by the very institutions bankrolled by David Koch and
his network. The Property and Environment Research Center, for example, has
provided valuable research and advocacy for the property-oriented policies that
helped to turn around the fortunes of the southern white rhinoceros, whose
numbers have gone from about 20 to about 20,000. Rhino poaching, PERC argues,
is driven by economic forces — and economic forces in the form of property
rights are what’s most effective in combating it. People will defend their own
property — and invest in it.
Say what you will about Ted Turner: When it comes to
preserving the wild places in the West, his big mouth was backed up by big
money; he bought up more than 2 million acres in seven states. His
sometime-colleague John Malone of Liberty Media has done even more.
American alligators were taken off the endangered-species
list in 1987. Today they are thriving, with millions of them in the wild,
thanks in no small part to the collaboration between the alligator industry and
the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, which monitors the
alligator population and the business practices related to it. Their efforts
represent a genuine environmental success story — not the only way to save an
endangered species, but one that works in many circumstances.
The deforestation of the Amazon is a textbook example of
the tragedy of the commons — what happens when a lack of property rights (or a
lack of effective enforcement, which amounts to the same thing) creates exactly
the wrong set of incentives for the management of a scarce and precious
commodity. The blanket prohibitions so often offered in response to that can
have the opposite of their intended effect by raising prices and encouraging
black-market production.
The command-and-control model that prevails in Sacramento
is not always the wrong one, but it is not always the right one, either.
Sometimes, coordination of interests is more effective than prohibition.
Markets do their magic when people have self-interested reasons to pursue social
ends.
You don’t have to take my word for that. Three million
wild alligators in Louisiana would offer their own testimony, if you wanted to
go ask them.
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