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Power and Trust:

Should Activists Negotiate with Police?
A Case Study

Copyright 1996 by Lynna Landstreet. Please don't reproduce or redistribute this paper without asking me first. I'll probably say yes if you do ask, but I do like to know where my work is going.

If you wish to cite this paper in your own work, the following format is suggested: Landstreet, Lynna. “Power and Trust: Should Activists Negotiate with Police?” Unpublished paper, available electronically on Wild Ideas (http://www.wildideas.net).

This is better than using the specific URL of this document, because I may reorganize the directory structure of this site from time to time, causing the addresses of specific pages to change.

Dhere are probably as many different kinds of environmental negotiation and mediation as there are people who define themselves as environmentalists, if not more. Many of those that would come first to mind involve various aspects of land use planning and facility siting, and while these are of considerable importance, there are other instances of negotiation that may often be of more immediate concern to the grassroots environmental activists.

One which appears to be becoming increasingly common in today’s environmental movement is that of negotiating with police over the legal, and potentially illegal, aspects of protest actions. While it may have been at one point taken for granted, as part of the heritage of the 1960’s protest movements, that the relationship between police officers and protesters was of necessity an adversarial one, there seems now to be an increasing movement toward greater cooperation and consultation between the..

This tendency has certainly not been uncontested; I have been witness to some extremely heated arguments among activists over the desirability of cooperating, in any manner whatsoever, with the police. But nonetheless, such cooperation does seem to be happening with increasing frequency — and with very mixed results.

In this paper, I will review the issues and concerns raised by this trend, and critically examine one instance of negotiation between protest organizers and police and its results. The example I will use will be the discussions that took place between Lea Ann Mallett of Earthroots, coordinator of the Owain Lake blockade during the fall of 1996, and two representatives of the Temagami detachment of the Ontario Provincial Police. From this, I hope to draw some tentative conclusions about the challenges faced by activists who choose to negotiate with the police, and how they can best be addressed.

How necessary or desirable it is for organizers to consult with the police regarding actions they are planning varies considerably with, among other things, the type of action planned. Obviously, if one is contemplating engaging in “monkeywrenching” — undercover ecological sabotage — discussing one’s plans with law enforcement officials to any degree whatsoever is not likely to be high on the agenda.[1] Conversely, if one is planning a perfectly legal activity such as a meeting for the purpose of writing letters to politicians, there is no danger in talking with the police, but neither is there any need to do so.

Negotiating with police becomes an issue is when the activity planned is either one that can be legal or illegal, depending on the circumstances, such as street demonstrations, or, especially, is illegal but carried out with intent to submit to the legal consequences of one’s actions, as with civil disobedience. With either of these forms of protest, organizers are likely to have questions regarding the legality or illegality of specific actions, how those wishing to avoid arrest can do so, what those willing to risk arrest can expect, and so on. Police, for their part, will have questions regarding the nature, size, timing and location of the proposed event.

Each party involved also has specific interests, and while some of these interests may overlap, others are likely to oppose each other. For example, the organizers of a civil disobedience action and the police may share a common interest in keeping the day’s events non-confrontational and free from violence. However, the police also have an interest in minimizing the scale of any disruption or disturbance caused by the action, while the organizers have an interest in maximizing such disruption, particularly in the case of an action aimed at directly obstructing the activity they are protesting. Thus, while there is certainly room for cooperation, part of the negotiation is unavoidably competitive. Or, to use Lax and Sebenius’s terminology, such negotiations inevitably entail claiming value as well as creating it.[2]

But conflicting interests are common in many, perhaps even all, negotiation situations; they do not in and of themselves render activist/police negotiations especially complicated. Rather, the key issues here are the significant power differences that exist between the negotiating parties, and the relative lack of trust that is likely to be present. And to the extent that those issues are central, examining such negotiations can perhaps offer insights into other negotiation situations where significant power imbalances and/or lack of trust are concerns.

The Owain Lake forest is on the southeastern fringe of the Temagami region, east of Highway 11. When plans to allow the Sturgeon Falls-based company Goulard Lumber to log the area were announced, it became the latest staging ground for a controversy that has been ongoing for over a century.

While most Canadians first heard of Temagami in 1989, when the blockade of Red Squirrel Road by Native residents of the area and non-Native environmentalists made headlines across the country, the debate over the fate of the region and its old-growth red and white pine forests dates back to 1883, when it was first brought to the attention of the government that the Teme-Augama Anishnabai — the Algonkian community that had resided in the area for some 5,000 years — had been left out of the Robinson-Huron treaty of 1850, which had purported to apply to all “Ojibway Indians, inhabiting and claiming the eastern and northern shores of Lake Huron... and inland to the height of land” — i.e. the division between the Great Lakes and James Bay watersheds, then the boundary between the Province of Canada and Rupert’s Land.[3]

A reserve was eventually surveyed, but rejected by the government in 1901 due to the “great quantities of pine” present within the area, which were greatly in demand by the lumber industry.[4] However, the industry was unable to cut as much as they desired due to the strong tourism industry that was also developing in the area.[5] The conflict between the Native community, logging companies and tourism operators continued unabated to the present day, with the addition, in the past few decades, of environmental activists who sought to preserve the area for its natural beauty and ecological significance as well. In 1970, the Teme-Augama Anishnabai were awarded a tiny reserve on Bear Island, in the centre of Lake Temagami,[6] and in 1983, a large area of the forest was preserved as Lady Evelyn Smoothwater Wilderness Park,[7] but a comprehensive land use plan was not developed quite recently — a draft version was released in the form of a tabloid newsletter in 1995,[8] and the final version unveiled at a public meeting in the town of Temagami in January 1996.

The version of the plan presented at the meeting identified 21 areas of old-growth forest in the region, but only proposed to protect 12 of them, which caused considerable anger among environmentalists. In Toronto, several local environmental groups banded together under the name of the Temagami Action Group, spearheaded by Earthroots, the descendant of the Temagami Wilderness Society which had coordinated the 1989 Red Squirrel Road blockades, and made plans to establish a new blockade wherever logging of old-growth first began. When the plans to log Owain Lake were announced, the TAG began planning a for a blockade of Rabbit Lake Road, the logging access road leading into the area.

In this instance, the initiative regarding negotiation was taken by the police, rather than the protest organizers. Camp coordinator Lea Ann Mallett of Earthroots received a phone call from the Temagami OPP asking for a meeting:

Two weeks before we went up there, I got a call from a constable who was trying to arrange a meeting between myself and Staff Sergeant Kim Peters and Staff Sergeant Tom Donnelly. And what they wanted was to discuss what the ground rules would be if there was some kind of civil disobedience camp in the area. And I went up there on their invitation, and we had an hour and a half long discussion. It was very friendly, and they seemed quite concerned that there be a perception that they were going to be neutral. So we set up ground rules, where we agreed that I would be the police liaison person, and that there would be no large show of police presence without prior warning, there would be no arrests without prior warning, and in fact they talked about describing how they would do arrests — they would come to me and explain to me how they were going to arrest people, so that nobody got confused or concerned. Those were the ground rules that we set up.

Initially, it seemed like a perfect example of cooperation between the police and the organizers for mutual gain. Clear lines of communication were established, and the groundwork was laid for a non-adversarial relationship. Even when the base camp for the blockade was first established, on the site of an old logging camp partway down the road toward the old-growth area where cutting was slated to take place, the initial interactions with the OPP were very positive. Staff Sergeant Kim Peters came out to the camp on Labour Day weekend, when it was first established, dressed casually in jeans and a plaid shirt, and was quite friendly with the protesters.

However, this auspicious beginning did not last long once the actual blockade was established. The first people to be intercepted by the blockade were not the loggers, who had not yet begun operations, but two local minnow fishers en route to a lake further down the road. And while the protesters had no desire to specifically hamper fishing activities in the area, the nature of the blockade that had been set up was such that it could not be easily dismantled. It had been made clear repeatedly in planning meetings that this was to be a direct action blockade, with the aim being to actually physically prevent logging from taking place, rather than the symbolic blockades used in places like Clayoquot Sound, where protesters simply sat on the road and waited to be removed by police. Thus, an actual physical blockade was constructed using heavy concrete blocks, and that meant that it was not possible to be selective about who could pass through — the road was either blocked or it wasn’t.

The minnow fishers complained to the OPP, and the next day, Mallett says, “the shit completely hit the fan in terms of dealing with the police. Suddenly there were thirteen police vehicles there, and canine units, and they arrested me that second day” — along with the majority of people at the camp, whether or not they were actively involved with the blockade. No warnings were given, and those who had come up as spectators, not intending to participate in civil disobedience, were arrested along with the others; they were given no opportunity to leave the area. The ground rules that had been agreed upon in the negotiating meeting were abandoned. And this set the tone for the remainder of the camp’s duration.

After the initial blockade arrests, there was no more negotiation. There was no negotiation at all. The police just decided what was going to be happening. And when I came back to camp, Staff Sergeant Kim Peters just never came around again to contact me, other than to come in and warn us one day that people weren’t allowed to be near moving equipment. I think the biggest dent in terms of negotiation was that they removed the police negotiation person first. I was supposed to be the negotiator! And we had a police negotiator identified to us — it was going to be Staff Sergeant Tom Donnelly, and he had told me that he was going to be available 24 hours a day as a negotiating person. And then we never saw him again after the first day of the blockade — he just vanished. So that made it pretty apparent that ongoing negotiation wasn’t going to be possible.

The initial arrests, Mallett feels, were intended to eliminate the camp altogether; she recalls that in a media interview at the time, the superintendent above Peters and Donnelly stated that he had thought that if they removed the “leader” — Mallett herself — that the others would pack up and go home — “which shows that they don’t have a really strong understanding of the environmental movement.”

The camp continued, with new people coming up to replace those who remained in jail to protest the restrictive bail conditions they were initially given. Others stepped in to carry out Mallett’s coordinating duties while she was in custody. The police presence at the site also continued, at times reaching near-military levels.

There was an enormous amount of resources invested in watching us, even when there wasn’t anything happening. They estimated that the first week the expense was between $80-100,000. But of course, there were precedents set for this — there was Ipperwash, there was the OPSEU strike here at Queen’s Park, but overall, when we were speculating about the different ways that the police could respond, even I didn’t realize how bad it could be. Emergency Task Force individuals, ATVs with people in flat grey fatigues zooming through the camp, infrared night vision, and the whole nine yards.

So what went wrong? How did an initially very amicable negotiation that seemed like a model of cooperation fall apart so badly? There are a number of possibilities.

One, obviously, is that the police were simply not negotiating in good faith to begin with, and simply called the meeting in an attempt to find out as much as they could about the action. If this was indeed the case, their willingness to agree to a whole slate of ground rules might be able to be explained on the basis that there was no harm in agreeing to virtually anything the organizers asked if they had no intention of honouring any agreements that were made to begin with.

Another possible explanation, and one that Mallett feels is quite likely, is that the officers she dealt with were in fact sincere, but were later subject to pressure from above. She notes that the arrests took place immediately following the first media statements from Queen’s Park about the blockade:

I think that overall what we experienced was just an example of the Tory government using the OPP as a political enforcement body. I think that’s all it was. They said “Get those damn protesters out of there,” and when the initial attempt failed, they just kept attempting to do so. And I think it was political pressure. I don’t think any of the police officers involved were necessarily bad people, or had evil intent. I think that they received political pressure, and in a hierarchy, the pressure received goes on down the line.

A third possibility, and one that raises some interesting questions for the negotiation process, is that there may have been a misunderstanding concerning the nature of the blockade. As noted earlier, Owain Lake was conceived of as a direct action blockade, as opposed to the purely symbolic blockades that have taken place elsewhere. And that distinction was not, apparently, discussed during the negotiating meeting.

They may actually not have had any idea of what the blockade was going to look like. Perhaps they had in their mind more of a Clayoquot Sound style, people-sitting-on-the-road-and-singing-type-thing, not as direct action oriented. So it may have been that what they were expecting was something where they were just going to come and lift a few people off the road and that was going to be the end of it. And when they saw that it was a more serious blockade than that, it may have been that they decided to change the playing field because it wasn’t what they were expecting.

This is interesting, because it raises the question of just how much information should be shared in a negotiation. Giving away too much can obviously put one at a disadvantage, particularly in a direct action situation, where giving the police too much information about a proposed action can easily result in that action being impossible to carry out. But conversely, sharing too little information can be equally dangerous if it results in the other party feeling that they have been misled or taken advantage of. This is of particular importance in a situation such as this one, where a blockade and base camp are intended to be in place for months. Fisher and Brown note that in negotiations that take place within ongoing working relationships, it is vital to be “wholly trustworthy, but not wholly trusting.”[9] It is unwise to risk sacrificing the long-term stability of the relationship for short-term strategic gain.

On a more concrete and practical level, one of the biggest problems was that there was no documentation of agreements that were reached with the police, which Mallett readily concedes was a big mistake. “We went in in good faith, and they weren’t recording, so neither did I,” she says, cringing somewhat at the recollection. Thus, when the ground rules were abandoned, the protesters were left essentially helpless, since they could not prove that any rules had every been agreed on in the first place.

They couldn’t deny that we had the meeting, so they denied that we talked about civil disobedience. And it was like — well, why else would you have been concerned? If people were not going to be engaged in civil disobedience, and were just going to be holding up a few signs, why would you care?

After the initial mass arrests, the people at the camp became much more careful about documenting any discussions with the police. Mallett, on the advice of her lawyer, carried a tape recorder with her at all times, and at one point, when Sergeant Peters issued a verbal warning to the protesters but refused to commit it to writing, they videotaped him speaking.

Another major problem, and one not likely to appear as obvious to anyone who has not done at least some reading in the field of negotiation, is that during the initial negotiations, no thought was given by the organizers to what alternatives they might have to a negotiated agreement with the OPP — in short, they were not aware, in Getting To Yes terminology, of their BATNA (Best Alternative To a Negotiated Agreement). And as that book says, “If you have not thought carefully about what you will do if you fail to reach an agreement, you are negotiating with your eyes closed.”[10] Mallett says that the informal, friendly tone of the initial meeting led her to feel at the time that alternatives were not necessary. And by the time she realized that this was a mistake, it was too late:

In the initial meeting, everything was really low-key. It was very casual, and what they were saying in the meeting was that they just wanted to get to know me, so that they would have somebody to talk to, and they just wanted to inform me of their neutrality, and their desire to keep things very calm and controlled, and so on and so forth, so there didn’t seem to be the need for any kind of alternative scenario. And after the initial blockade arrests, there was no more negotiation. There was no negotiation at all. The police had just decided what was going to be happening....

So initially it seemed like there was no need for an alternative strategy, and then by the time there was there was no ability to create one, because the police never came to us again and said “Well, let’s talk about this.” They basically set up an armed camp and started patrolling us, and that’s how it stayed. And certainly, from our end, it didn’t feel like there was any way we could approach them, because we didn’t really feel that we had the power...

The initially friendly tone also served to distract from the very real power imbalance between the parties. There is no escaping the fact that in a negotiation where one party is an armed wing of the state with the ability to forcibly apprehend and jail the other, we are not dealing with a level playing field. The standard answer found in Getting To Yes and other similar works is for the weaker side to develop their BATNA, but it is difficult to see at first glance how the protesters’ BATNA could be strengthened enough to outweigh the full coercive force of the state. Ben Hoffman acknowledges the problematic role of “raw power” in negotiation:

In extreme case, however, such as when the police take action against someone on behalf of the state or when someone uses physical force against you, raw power is being exercised and will prevail. In the case of police or state action, the “raw” power may be said to be “refined” since we who live in democracies “give” the state that power, mainly for our own protection.... But this is not negotiation. It is managing conflict with violence.[11]

Another concern that arose at Owain Lake, and one that definitely has the potential to adversely affect future negotiations of this kind, is the singling out of negotiators as “leaders” who are therefore targets for harassment and intimidation. Mallett, who had never intended to risk arrest by participating actively in the blockade, was arrested twice, the second time when she was nowhere near the action site.

Because I was the person who went up and discussed things with them, they had it out for me from the beginning. I became a target. And that’s one thing that we’ve learned, is that if there is a liaison person, we won’t be naive enough to think that the police will just go “Oh, good, now we have someone that we can contact with.” Because instead what the police were looking at it as was a purely hierarchal situation where it was “OK, good, that’s the person we get first.”

Obviously, this has serious implications for future talks — it is difficult to enter into negotiations with any degree of trust whatsoever if you have reason to suspect that simply by doing so, you may be opening yourself up to abuse.

And one final factor that may have come into play was the chance occurrence of other events in the area that may have skewed police perceptions of the TAG protesters. Over the same general period of time as the blockade, there were two bridges firebombed elsewhere in the Temagami area. Neither was anywhere near Owain Lake; they were both situated well within the traditional lands of the Teme-Augama Anishnabai, whose century-old land claim is still before the courts, and most media reports at the time suggested that Native activists were probably responsible. But local pro-logging advocates were quick to blame “southern environmentalists”, and it may be that this influenced police perceptions and actions.

However, it is also important to ask what went right with the Owain Lake negotiations. Because — perhaps surprisingly — Mallett does not consider the negotiation process to have been a total failure, and says that, in a similar situation, she would do it again, albeit with a lot of changes.

Probably the single most important accomplishment of the negotiation process was the establishment of a less adversarial relationship than might otherwise have been the case:

I had seen other civil disobedience actions, like in Clayoquot [Sound], where there was extensive negotiation with the police, and often that is a very good way to have personal relations with the police. Because then they don’t look at you as “oh, that protester” — instead, they’re looking at you as a person. So sometimes that can decrease the potential of police being violent with people, or miscommunication in terms of their perception of what protesters are like.

So in that way, it was beneficial whether they actually followed the ground rules or not. Because they knew, for example, that we were nonviolent. They knew that it was peaceful civil disobedience. They knew that from the beginning. So there was no way they could go into this situation and behave, for example, in a violent manner with the protesters, and then say “Well, we had no idea they were nonviolent.” And from our perspective, it was good to get a sense, from the beginning, of what they were expecting.

Of course, as we have seen, the police may well not have been as confident of the protesters’ nonviolence as were the protesters themselves, negotiations or no negotiations. It is relatively easy, when you know your own intentions, to assume that others know them too. But the lack of trust the TAG protesters had in the police may well have been a two-way street. It is important in any negotiation to realize, not only that the other party may not be being fully truthful, but also that they have no reason to be sure that you are.

Additionally, even though conscious attention had not been given to the development of a stronger BATNA by using the media as a tool, the fact that the negotiations had taken place provided the protesters with some very useful ammunition when it came to dealing with the media. Having documented the agreements that they had would undoubtedly have strengthened their position with the media, but even as it was, there enough media willing to at least report their side of the story that it was possible to obtain some positive results:

When the police threw out those ground rules, we were able to hammer them with the media. And I thought that was really beneficial, because if we hadn’t had that meeting, the police could have said “Oh, well, we didn’t know what was going to happen out there, we didn’t know what kind of people they were, so we just stormed in there and did what we had to do.” But instead, because there was that initial meeting, when we talked to the media about the treatment, for example, of the spectators that were arrested, we were really able to beat them over the head with their behaviour, because we had those agreements... And what we did find after the initial blockade was that the police did start warning people before arrests, because they got such a clubbing in the press.

So what conclusions can be drawn from the Owain Lake experience to assist activists who may find themselves in similar situations?

Probably the first, and most important, is that no matter how casual and friendly the police may be, it is vitally important to document any negotiated agreement, because that friendliness, whether or not is genuine, may not last. In any situation where the power imbalance is as pronounced as it is here, it is essential for the weaker party to pay as much attention as possible to ensuring that whatever agreement is reached is actually enforceable in some way. While a lack of trust can seriously hamper negotiations, excessive trust can be very dangerous:

While the protesters in this instance were able to effectively use the media to shame the police to some extent after the negotiated ground rules were broken, being able to show them proof of the agreement would have helped immeasurably. There are very few things that grassroots activists can effectively threaten police with, but a public scandal is undoubtedly one of them.

Of course, improving the documentation, and therefore the enforceability, of a negotiated agreement may also have the unintended side-effect of making it more difficult to obtain such an agreement in the first place. It is easy to agree to a set of rules one knows one cannot be held to, but an agreement that actually has some force may be harder to settle on. Thus, it may be that insisting on documenting any agreements may act not so much to reduce the overall stressfulness of the situation as to mover the locus of the stress from the period after the agreement is reached to the actual negotiation itself.

As stated earlier, to improve one’s BATNA enough to counterbalance the level of power enjoyed by the state is a daunting prospect, but this is all the more reason to pay very careful attention to it before setting foot in the meeting room. The media, as we have seen, can be a key tool allowing otherwise marginalized groups to strengthen their BATNAs, so a well-planned media strategy is essential.

Another key strategy is try and assess what it is that the police want from you, and ensure that they are aware that cooperating with you is the best way to get it. For example, if a major concern of the police is that a planned action proceed in an orderly, peaceful manner, it might not be amiss to let them know that, as an organizer, you will undoubtedly find it much easier to keep participants in the action calm and well-behaved if they are not angry about broken promises. Of course, this particular strategy is not without its potential pitfalls, as it amounts to playing good cop/bad cop with one’s own constituency, and could potentially undermine one’s efforts to be perceived as nonviolent, and thereby damage trust.

That brings us to another trust-related issue, touched on earlier: the costs and benefits of sharing or withholding information. We have already seen that being too circumspect can lead to adverse consequences by providing unpleasant surprises to police officers who thought they knew what a particular protest action was going to entail. But conversely, providing too much information might result in no action being able to take place at all. It may be that this dilemma in fact provides another opportunity for protest organizers to strengthen their BATNA, because the simple fact of knowing what’s going to happen can be a source of negotiating power. It may be possible in some instances to trade information about a planned action for a commitment to non-interference, although as usual one would have to be very sure to have the agreement documented.

One unpleasant reality that organizers of direct action events, as opposed to symbolic protests, may face, is that there is a fundamental tension between the desire to have a peaceful and non-adversarial relationship with the police and the desire to spring heavily disruptive actions on them by surprise. Direct action, by definition, is action aimed at directly disrupting or interfering with the activities one is protesting, as opposed to merely calling attention to them. And as such, it necessarily increases the potential for conflict between protesters and police, and decreases the potential for cooperation. To use Lax and Sebenius’s terms again, it shifts the balance of the negotiator’s dilemma toward claiming value rather than creating it.

Many people are strongly attached to the direct action philosophy for political reasons, and on a practical level the sense of being able to “really make a difference” may encourage more people to participate. These are very valid concerns. But at the same time, it is important to be aware that the nature of this type of action does make negotiating with police more problematic than it might otherwise be. This is not an argument against direct action; merely a reminder that action organizers who choose this particular route need to be aware of the additional challenges it is likely to entail.

In conclusion, it seems clear that the negotiations surrounding the Owain Lake blockade, disastrous though they may have appeared at the time, were not a complete failure. Not so much because they helped to establish a somewhat less adversarial relationship with the police than might otherwise be the case, or even because they provided a means of using the media effectively, but above all because they were a learning experience:

If there were a camp in the future, I would meet with the police again. But this time what I would do is I would record the meeting. Which is one mistake that we made, because of course we went in in good faith, and they weren’t recording, so neither did I. And I would never do that again! And we would make sure that there was some sort of signed agreement. But I would negotiate with them again; I would just make sure that it was airtight this time. So that if the rules were broken, then people could be held accountable.

Perhaps the most important thing of all for organizers to remember is the value of principled negotiation. As Fisher, Ury and Patton note, “If the other side has big guns, you do not want to turn a negotiation into a gunfight.”[12] Activists enter into the political arena on the basis of principle, and that may yet prove to be their strongest asset.


  1. For a discussion of monkeywrenching, see Foreman, Dave, and Bill Haywood (eds.), Ecodefence: A Field Guide to Monkeywrenching. Tucson, AZ: Ned Ludd Books, 1985. Return to text.

  2. Lax, D., and J. Sebenius. “The Negotiator’s Dilemma: Creating and Claiming Value.” In The Manager As Negotiator: Bargaining for Cooperative and Competitive Gain. New York: The Free Press, 1986, pp. 29-45. Return to text.

  3. Hodgins, Bruce W., and Jamie Benedickson (eds.), The Temagami Experience: Recreation, Resources and Aboriginal Rights in the Northern Ontario Wilderness. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989, pp. 32-33. Return to text.

  4. Ibid, p. 87. Return to text.

  5. Ibid, 108-135. Return to text.

  6. Teme-Augama Anishnabai, “The Native Dimension: Key Dates,” in Bray, Matt and Ashley Thomson (eds.), Temagami: A Debate on Wilderness. Toronto: Dundurn Press, 1990, p. 149. Return to text.

  7. Killan, Gerald, “A Wilderness Park System,” in Bray & Thomson (eds.), Temagami: A Debate on Wilderness, pp. 86-89. Return to text.

  8. Temagami Comprehensive Planning Committee (CPC), tabloid newsletter, June 1995. Return to text.

  9. Fisher, Roger, and Scott Brown. Getting Together: Building a Relationship That Gets to Yes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1991, p. 107. Return to text.

  10. Fisher, Roger, William Ury and Bruce Patton. Getting To Yes: Negotiating Agreement Without Giving In, Second Edition. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1991, p. 100. Return to text.

  11. Hoffman, Ben. Conflict, Power, Persuasion: Negotiating Effectively. North York, Ontario: Captus Press, 1990, pp. 43-44. Return to text.

  12. Fisher, Ury and Patton, Getting To Yes, p. 106. Return to text.


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