The headline “Plum Creek told: Take it or leave it”(BDN, Oct. 2) gives the feel of a plucky ultimatum that puts a massive corporation in its place. But the content of the article, in contrast, exudes capitulation. Despite changes to the proposal to develop enormous swaths in the Moosehead region, the “most contentious” aspects remain. “We’re pleased at this juncture,” says Plum Creek’s project manager. However, nobody should be.

To see why, ask yourself a simple question: What is the most responsible way to take care of our vanishing areas of natural beauty? Well, you might say, the answer is easy: to really take care of them. Unfortunately, respectful stewardship of beautiful natural areas requires discipline and fortitude. It means fostering the health, biota and innate wonder of a place, whether or not it boasts big dollar signs.

For the vast majority of us, since we are spiritual, this means nurturing the wilderness, respecting the majesty of billions of years of flourishing, the splendor that existed before the Industrial Revolution. Honorable behavior entails a duty: to keep alive and advance the last vestiges of Mother Nature’s exquisite living tapestry of miracles.

In short, the high-minded road of noble care does not involve a massive intrusion, which gouges out space for almost a thousand houses and two resorts. Not only that, Plum Creek’s plan locks in timber harvesting in hundreds of thousands of surrounding acres.

In our frustrating world of dwindling awe, no one who is spiritual and broad of conscience could be pleased about this project. And, indeed, the public voice, evidenced by copious outcry, is hugely against it. Yet the Land Use Regulation Commission is going down the gray road of many such agencies before, putting the monetary hunger of the powerful before the spectacular gift given to us for free. One can imagine the Deity saying, “What are you doing to my Creation!”

As for the supposed economic benefits, the same could be generated in more nature-friendly ways; for instance, by enacting an agency like Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civil Conservation Corps. Hire people to restore the environment, not degrade it for short-term gain. At no time since the Great Depression has it been more obvious that reckless growth, rammed through by the titanic force of the profiteers, mutates into a disaster of plummeting woe. Create green jobs with good benefits instead of low-paying service jobs with no higher purpose, unfulfilling dead-ends just begging to be cut in the next recession.

Some would say that at least Plum Creek is a step toward dignity. The company boastfully proclaims that its proposal “includes the second largest conservation easement ever offered in the United States’ history.” And it is true the deal involves the permanent conservation of 400,000 acres.

“Permanent conservation” is indeed a lovely sound byte, an aural analgesic that brings a sigh of relief, something we’re all eager to take. But there are two serious problems here: the meaning of “permanent” and the meaning of “conservation.”

“Conversation” is one of those tricky slippery words that give politicians a bad name. In this case it means freedom to timber. Plum Creek states this in their executive summary on donated easements: “The easement will … ensure that sustainable forestry is practiced.” And also on purchased easements: “A guarantee of … the continuation of commercial forestry practices that meet sustainability standards.” Translation: even if you want to stop logging these hundreds of thousands of acres, no dice: the practice is legally protected, in perpetuity.

But the harvest is guaranteed sustainable, you might say. Welcome to the world of semantic confusion and dissimulation. No standards are more subject to debate, debacle, and outright violation than those that stand between a little profit for a corporation and a lot of profit, including standards of sustainability.

A quick look at history verifies the point: money has trumped the Creation for hundreds of years. This hard truth countermands the notion of “permanent” protection. There is no such thing. When our ancestors first came here, they marveled at the sylvan riches, wholeheartedly believing such bounty could never be squandered away. Each generation after has seen the landscape it cherished wither. How could it have happened?

It’s happening right now before our eyes. What’s permanent is not the protection but the loss: once it’s gone it’s adios forever.

The best defense is continuous vigilance and virtue, reinforced by green jobs, not LURC’s compromise, the rewriting of details in a complex contract riddled by legalese. As the saying goes, the devil is in the details.

Chris Crittenden of Lubec teaches environmental ethics at the University of Maine at Machias.