SURFERMAG.COM CURRENT ISSUE VOL. 44 #5

The phenomena of surf localism and surf rage were recently exposed in The Swell Life, a 20-minute video documentary on surfing's dark side. Rather than produce a standard surf video showing pro surfers ripping cliche fantasy waves, director Darren McInerney, a former CNN cameraman, offered an unblinking, gritty portrayal of modern urban surfing. Using a balanced documentary approach McInerney was able to infiltrate such notorious bastions of localism as Lunada Bay and Oxnard's Silver Strand. The interviews put a revealing-sometimes frightening, sometimes ludicrous-face on some of surfing's most infamous locals.

The Swell Life opened last year to enthusiastic reviews. Like McInerney, audiences found surfing localism to cover vast gray areas. "I had people say, ‘I never really thought about where these guys are coming from, and that some of the things that go on in the water are not about geography, but about etiquette and safety,'" he says McInerney.

There has been a lot of talk of creating a universal surfing code-a sort of surfing Ten Commandments to be posted at surf spots and taught at surf schools and long-term surfers. While many surfers chafe at the idea, if the current situation doesn't improve the alternative could be Big Brother: cameras and cops on PWCs patrolling the line-up.

Greg James, a surfer-turned-Australian state supreme court justice, spoke at a recent "Law of the Surf" conference in Sydney. "We don't want to be like the queue in the Soup Nazi's kitchen," he said. "But on the other hand, if people are going to commit acts of violence, the law is going to intervene."

"Naivete has allowed surfers to overlook the respect they should have before they go out and take what they can. The transition from land to water is very important. Surfers should make an offer, a gesture, before they take from the water. Surfers should not be like their white ancestors. It is not all conquer and take."- Mati Waiya, Chumash elder and shaman, consecrating the waves at the annual Rincon Clean Water Classic.

Alexis De Tocqueville, in writing Democracy in America in 1835, feared the American virtues he so revered-creativity, freedom and individuality-would be carried to extremes and eventually subverted by the cult of the individual. He foresaw Americans retreating into xenophobic enclaves based on religion or common interests, existing with apparent disregard, or contempt, for their surrounding communities.

In word he envisioned, say, the Ranch, a private development north of Santa Barbara and host to arguably California's best waves. Insular, often smug little surf communities such as this have erected physical, cultural and economic chokepoints, restricting surf access to premier waves on a decidedly undemocratic pay-to-play basis.

But the sad, bald truth is localism-like the threat of a mutually assured destruction pact-works to enforce an effective, if decidedly meanspirited, sense of environmentalism to keep a surf spot from being overrun by the tyranny of the mob. Humans, despite our pious regard for the sanctity of freewill, tend to behave in the most socially responsibly manner when there's a gun barrel pressed firmly to our collective temple.

And for as much as the surfing populist in us may rail against the elitist nature of buying a $100,000 parking sticker to access public tidelands, the reality is that a set of strictly enforced development codes have preserved some of the last coastal wildlands left in Southern California.

A 1974 SURFER "Our Mother Ocean" editorial, written shortly after the Ranch was subdivided for low-density development, outlined the paradox that in order to save a surf break, the majority of surfers need to be denied a way to get to it.

"The present concept under which the Ranch is being developed is ecologically and environmentally, if not sociologically, sound. It in essence restricts land ownership and use to the rich and their guests-an unfortunate reality. But since the state doesn't have the money to buy such large tracts of land, I am only glad it will not be raped like other areas."

Yet along most of the developed coastlines of the world surf spots are under threat from pollution and development. Unless locals are willing to protect their heirloom breaks from the bigger threat of corporate and governmental development, then all the rancorous headbutting for top kob status is so much futile, pretentious posing.

Increasingly, many surfers are looking at ways to transform neurotic doggy-style localism into evolved stewardship of our shared coastal legacy. Waves and beaches, it's been discovered, are as much part of our environmental and cultural heritage as the Black Hills are to the Cheyenne or the Ganges is to the Hindus. They underpin an entire lifestyle and industry. So then what truly makes a local these days? Zip code? Line-up time? Inside knowledge? Membership fees? And if you claim to be preserving a surf spot what indeed are you saving, and who are you saving it for? A time will come when a surfer, no matter his line-up status, will be decrepit to surf. So who then, is looking out for the seventh-generation surfer?

Surfrider Foundation, now approaching its 20th anniversary, was founded on the precept that surfers were the most likely caretakers of the coast since they were passionate about their lifestyle and spent the most time on the beach observing any adverse changes. As "canaries in a coal mine," surfers are often used as indicator species by researchers to gauge the health of coastal waters. Its latest projects are the "Special Places" programs, which set aside unique coastal habitats by establishing "wild parks", designated for protection and restoration. By working with existing government agencies and other environmental groups such as the Audubon Society, Surfrider is hoping to preserve special ocean places for future generations of ocean users.

"Often the most difficult work is not that which creates something, but that which keeps something from destroyed," says Joe Mozdzen, editor of Making Waves, Surfrider's newsletter. "Being a good ancestor involves making all of our choices based on the long term. After all, conservation is not about convenience, it's about sacrifice-and often a great deal of it."

Besides Surfrider, surfer-led groups and individuals like Surfer's Environmental Alliance (SEA) also work to promote a sense of true localism among surfers and their coast. Recently a coalition between SEA and Surfrider made a successful lobby to save The Hook, a firing right point at Sandy Hook, NJ, from being buried under tons of sand to maintain a National Parks access road. Donna Frye, wife of Skip Frye and San Diego City councilwoman, has worked tirelessly to re-route storm drains through the city's sewage-treatment plant. Hillary Hauser of Heal the Ocean in Santa Barbara spearheaded the campaign to have the Rincon Homeowners Association hook up their antiquated leaky septic tanks to the county sewage lines to stop contaminating Rincon Creek (which flows directly into the Indicators line-up).

Never underestimate the amount of influence a small group of passionate locals can have. With a bit of luck and determination surfers may evolve to last as long as the waves they ride.

"Every species comes equipped with its own Judgment Day when changing environments demand a balance sheet of total assets and total liabilities," wrote Robert Ardrey in 1966. "Man's uniqueness among species rests on his capacity to perfect the arrangements for his own Judgment Day, instead of waiting for nature to do it for him."