David Young is one of New Zealand’s most respected environmental authors, who has published widely in essays, articles, magazines and books. He draws upon decades of discussion with indigenous elders, environmentalists scholars, scientists and knowledge of the conservation movement.
Drawing upon extensive historical research and interviews with the many dedicated Forest and Bird officers and field workers driving the preservation of indigenous forests, birds and other fauna of Aotearoa - New Zealand. It is part of an inspiring story. It is about deeply committed groups of people, connected to their environment, working to ensure greater protection of natural habitats, including their soils and freshwater conservation. In Force of Nature David explores the first half of the history of the long struggle of the conservation movement from the early 1920s. From this period Forest & Bird would emerge as a vital player in modern conservation.
What drives the heroes of conservation?
The heroes of this conservation history are often motivated initially by a deep sense of caring for place and for natural life: be it whenua (land), ngahere (forest), wai (freshwater) or moana (ocean). This is often from a local perspective, it may involve protecting a species. Sometimes they are scientifically well-informed, some may come from a spiritual perspective (to David’s mind these are not mutually exclusive). Inevitably they are public-spirited.
Campaigning aside, much of this work is physical. The volunteers are often out in all weathers, because planting is essentially a winter activity while trapping never stops and for many, new seed stock must go on. For professional botanists and ornithologists, often working alone, their observations require ingenuity and time to make informed conclusions. Such work is sometimes strenuous if not physically dangerous.
Whether it’s a piece of threatened forest, a river’s integrity, an endangered species, a compromised shoreline or a potential marine or island reserve, our history suggests that a sense of public good, of what we might call ‘natural justice’, drives conservationists. Their commitment and their often real sacrifices become life-long and, over time, as diverse in their concerns as the ecology they serve. This book charts a growth over lives and generations into deeper, evolving ecological knowledge. For many Pakeha this becomes a connection with place. Conservation under wise leadership enriches community, can generate a greater sense of shared mātauranga – evident from the society’s very foundations forward – and the sense of what it is to belong to these motu. Without these shared values, in my opinion, we are lost as a nation.
Did your research and writing for this book further confirm for you why conservation is so important?
More than ever. The big question for advocates is, “how do we connect with not only our support base, but to those many others who could be ‘won over’ ”. Even when people regularly go into nature for recreation as boaties, skiers, trekkers, fishers, there’s not necessarily a willingness to make even small sacrifices for nature. Back in 1975 I was reporting on plans to make Queenstown, then a beautiful small town, into a tourism mecca and on helicopter traffic into South Island wilderness. Tramper-conservationists were already concerned at chopper tourism. A fast-food chain is currently pushing that deeply invasive idea in its television advertising. It’s worse than the larrikan ute ads that show driving across pristine river beds or mountain sides. Technology makes so much possible, but is it really desirable or even necessary to parade it in our best landscapes? The future of humanity rests on keeping the discipline of deep respect for place, for planet and for life in its myriad forms.
In my nearly 55 years in this field we have never faced anything so inimical to the environment, the people and democracy itself than what is being presented by this current government.
If ever an administration was defiant about truth-telling and evidence, not least on matters environmental, it is this one.
Are we doing enough to protect our natural heritage?
I’m afraid there’s so much under threat right now, from individuals who blindly advocate for infinite growth, for whom invasiveness of the pristine needs no restraint – so long as it rewards investors – and anthropogenic Climate Change is a half-baked bagatelle.
We are still losing biodiversity, the Hauraki Gulf needed to reach near-collapse before anything like a moratorium on worst fishing techniques has been realised. Many of our rivers are dark shadows of their former selves. The Department of Conservation, that doesn’t always gets a fair shake from National, is currently unable to fulfil so many of its fundamental duties due to underfunding and tourism (aka mammon) seems to have the upper hand.
How could we do better?
Since National’s Holyoake government created the Commission for the Environment in 1969 (with the impressive Duncan McIntyre as Minister) there has been over time a creative tension between the two main parties on building conservation. Just as until now there has been pretty much a consensus on Te Tiriti since 1987. I believe that the majority of New Zealanders understand this. These agreements come out an enlargement of, among other motivations, our historic ‘fair go’. It would seem that neither can any longer be taken as a given. Is there an opportunity for ‘our better selves’ here?
Major impediments to protecting our environment?
Whether it is off-shore mining, digging into conservation land, putting rare indigenous species at risk or flouting the urgent findings of climate change the defence of indigenous rights and nature’s rights can create a true coalition of citizen concern. Unless we are prepared to do this, in defiance of a roughshod riding government, Aotearoa/New Zealand will become a benefactor of the already wealthy and a much diminished place for most of us. Conservation and human rights seem to me world-wide to be rooted in respect and awe for the whenua. Unless that ethos is shared and upheld by committed political leadership, then we will continue to witness further decline in ecological health, our public health and further loss of native species.
Our National parks - how do you rate them?
Internationally some of our finest have world heritage status.
Most stack up internationally really well, but I am concerned at how much the nuts and bolts of protecting what’s in them is in prospect of being sacrificed to the demands of tourism. Legally, they stand for protection of native flora and fauna and for recreation. If predator control is not to be reliably funded then what visitors experience is not the life of our unique ecosystems but, as Jared Diamond once said, ‘the wreckage of them’.
What was one of the most surprising things you discovered during your research [and a conservation story from the past 100 years] ?
Right from the very start of Forest and Bird there was a sensitivity from its founding President, Val Sanderson as to the importance of engaging Māori with the Society’s plans. In 1923 tangata whenua were still a good half century from anything like the beginnings of a renaissance. Some of the Society’s ideas for protection, be it for reserves/parks or for customarily hunted birds such as the kereru, challenged the birthright of tangata whenua. Very early attempts were made to set up a Māori branch, and to engage in targeted poster campaigns; Bishop Frederick Bennett (Ngāti Whakaūe) became a patron in 1936. By the early 50s, the magazine carried articles detailing te reo names for native birds. Annual camps were held deliberately in Māori districts in which the cross-cultural friendships formed enabled a deeper understanding of manaakitanga, kaitaki (tanga) and mātauranga Māori.
The society’s desire to create Te Urewera National Park from the 1950s was rooted in two fundamental principles: protection of water and soil conservation through forestry preservation and the notion that Ngāi Tūhoe should fully engaged in the process and must not be disadvantaged by the decisions taken.
Favourite wilderness destination in New Zealand?
Punakaiki has long been one of my favourite places, with its limestone formations, blow-holes, amazing mixed nīkau forests, tumbling kiekie cliffs and wildlife, kororā [penguins] of course, just down the road, the endangered West Coast black petrel. Although its horizons are immense, the actual visitor site is a small landscape, and the new building erected there looms so large, it seems very out of place. Let’s be more conscious about how we treat these beautiful islands – in Aotearoa small will always be beautiful.
Tongariro National Park has to be my turangawae, where in the early 60s the Whanganui High School, tramping club, led by science teacher Roy Lupton, began. We roamed and climbed over much of this beautiful volcanic zone. In my work I have been involved in cases and books on the Whanganui River, which is sourced in the park and whio (blue duck).
What’s for me now?
At this stage I need to live more deliberately attentive to the Earth. I’m delighting in a focus that frames the myriad life forms of the coastal forest remnant our property abuts. I love propagating local plants for my ephemeral wetland. I delight in the native visitors who choose to turn up there, among the less obvious being ghost moths, native bees, and a variety of bugs and beetles. Perhaps less surprising but also welcome are the cicada, crickets, the odd dragonfly and the joy of unexpected fungi, not least of the basket weave variety. I’ve been keeping a kind of journal which is becoming an exercise in, among other things, relations between we cliff dwellers and this place. I’m still engaged in community projects that focus on regeneration of forests, wetlands and te mana o te wai.
Potton & Burton