Here we are in the final stages of debate on management of the Missouri River. By the time this magazine is published, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers will have issued its recommendations for control of water flow in the river. Agriculture's input is critical now. Comments (in support of or in opposition to) will be accepted throughout June before final action is taken.

The corps is under extreme pressure to alter its river management strategy in favor of species engineering and recreation to the detriment of navigation and agriculture. The pressure comes from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service ("suddenly powerful bureaucrats" according to The Wall Street Journal) in conjunction with today's nature-deifying groups.

Surreally, this passion play is set against the backdrop of the bicentennial celebration of Lewis and Clark's exploration.

Modern society needs to outgrow its neurosis and new-age religion in order to come to grips with fact. The riverine corridors of the Ohio, Mississippi and Missouri rivers were altered early in the last century for good reason. Furthermore, the original reasons for river alterations are still valid today. Despite indignant howls from insulated city-bred groups, societies have the responsibility to make hard, practical decisions based on sound policy.

Rivers flood. Cities need power. Towns need water. Human structures need protection from unopposed nature. The United States needs agriculture. Early in the last century, when people still understood and accepted the natural world, government attempted to manipulate the river for the benefit of humans. No human project is perfect. But the 1940s Pick-Sloan plan for the Missouri River valley was built around four useful social objectives: navigation, hydropower, flood control and water supply. Three of these are critical to agriculture's current and future efficiency in the region.

Today's dilettantes demand water levels conducive to recreation and the Endangered Species Act. But the pallid sturgeon is a pale excuse for fundamentally altering the landscape of the Midwest.

The timing couldn't be worse. Agriculture is under severe stress: Commodity prices. County health ordinances. Consolidation. Prissy governmental mandates masquerading as environmental concerns.

The river mess signifies a larger issue. We're in the midst of a paradigm shift every bit as powerful as the Industrial Revolution or the Information Age. But no one wants to acknowledge the phenomenon. We carefully tiptoe around the issue, while preparing to move from self-sufficiency to dependency on "less enlightened" nations for a food supply.

Meanwhile, in some Orwellian fashion that would be laughable if proponents weren't so deadly earnest, Lewis and Clark get resurrected and propped at the head of the funeral dirge.

For those who won't remember, Lewis and Clark were specifically seeking a direct water route that would help the budding nation move supplies, advance civilization and establish agriculture. The ironic twist is that these very industries are viewed so disdainfully by bicentennial celebrants.

Those who claim activists want to change river management policy just to "share" with navigation and agriculture are either naive or delusional. What's occurring is a transfer of priority from an agricultural-based infrastructure to a recreation-based infrastructure designed to soothe today's city-bound work force who wants to feel smug about nature.

Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark would be thunderstruck at the disconnect. Let your senators and representatives hear or read your opinions, and participate in the comment period.