Lake Waikaremoana, Te Urewera National Park. (Photo: RNZ, Robert Harding)
The government’s overhaul of nature protection laws is a chance to move away from “fortress conservation”, write Elizabeth Macpherson and David Jefferson.
Fierce opposition from environmental organisations and the outdoor recreation sector has forced the government to backflip on one of the most contentious proposed changes in its reform plan for conservation management.
Earlier this month, Minister for Conservation Tama Potaka told a conference he would remove a controversial clause from the Conservation Amendment Bill that would have allowed more conservation land to be sold.
But the bill contains other, no less concerning changes. This includes the proposal of a new “economic opportunity” function for the Department of Conservation (DOC), requiring it to:
recognise the economic opportunities that arise from the use and development of land and other resources managed by the department, and to enable this use and development to the greatest extent practicable.
The reforms would also relegate the New Zealand Conservation Authority and regional conservation boards to mere advisory bodies and give the minister broad powers to make policies to deliver on the government’s development agenda.
We argue that reform of the conservation system in a settler-colonial country such as Aotearoa New Zealand raises inevitable questions about who gets to decide where and how conservation lands are protected, and whose values guide the process.
Values in conservation
Many New Zealanders share a deep connection to conservation lands. Public mobilisation in opposition to the conservation reform reflects widely held concerns that their next hike or hunt will be less than idyllic.
But this connection is underpinned by European conservation values, including the concept of “fortress conservation”. This model of conservation prioritises the preservation of pristine natural landscapes and native species, “protecting” them from people’s activities which are assumed to be inherently harmful.
Ironically, fortress conservation has enabled lands not classified as protected to be over-exploited.
Such “preservationist” approaches to conservation have also created protected areas by removing Indigenous peoples from their ancestral territories or by restricting customary resource use, sometimes through violent means.
The harm caused to Māori by separating them from the use and governance of their ancestral lands in the name of conservation has been acknowledged in multiple Waitangi Tribunal reports and Treaty settlements.
Significant tracts of conservation land remain subject to unresolved legal claims by Māori. Some iwi and hapū have attempted to collaborate with DOC to practice their rangatiratanga (legal and political authority) and kaitiakitanga (caretaking or guardianship) over ancestral lands. Others have shown leadership in conservation institutions such as the New Zealand Conservation Authority and UNESCO.
Aotearoa leads in environmental governance
It is not without irony that New Zealand’s most progressive environmental governance models have emerged from Treaty settlements that interact with conservation lands. This includes the legal personhood granted to the Whanganui River, Te Urewera and Taranaki Mounga.
These models have captured global attention as a gold standard for environmental governance. They signal a different way to value nature, grounded in relatedness and reciprocity between people and natural features, in which the land provides food, employment and identity for people and they care for it in return.
Such models also open new spaces for iwi and hapū to govern ancestral landscapes according to their own legal systems and worldviews, and for local governments, community members and industry groups to reconsider their relationship with nature.
As such, they enable people to move beyond a binary approach of preserving pristine landscapes and developing everything else. Other countries have been inspired by legal innovations in Aotearoa to reevaluate their relationships to nature, including the United Kingdom’s Rights of Nature Bill which passed its second reading in parliament.
Despite the broad acclaim these legal personhood models have received, New Zealand’s government is unravelling protections for the environment. It has disestablished the Ministry for the Environment, attempted to weaken environmental protections in fisheries laws, and plans to reform the Resource Management Act to enable more widespread “fast-track” development.
The proposed conservation reforms place further strain on the government’s already uneasy relationship with Treaty partners, with concerns it will infringe both settled and unsettled Treaty rights.
Although the bill would require some consultation with iwi and hapū, the final decision would rest with the same minister who wants to shift DOC’s functions away from conservation and towards development.
Unsurprisingly, Māori are once again using various means to challenge the Crown’s conduct as a Treaty partner.
Conservation reform fit for Aotearoa
The government argued Aotearoa’s conservation regime needed to be “modernised”. This is uncontroversial. It is an argument the conservation sector and iwi and hapū have made for decades.
Until now, policymakers have struggled to reconcile the competing values attached to Aotearoa’s conservation estate, and the extent to which it should be preserved or developed.
The government should learn from what Aotearoa has done well in the past and take up this opportunity to design lasting and equitable conservation reforms that uphold the rights and values of people with interests in conservation lands.
Only then can we move towards a conservation system that reflects Aotearoa’s local context and the value of partnership embodied in Te Tiriti o Waitangi.
It is time to abandon a European-style “lock it or lose it” approach to conservation. Aotearoa’s nature is diverse, as are the human values attached to it.
A relational approach that reflects the complex entanglement of human connections and livelihoods with natural features offers greater potential to rally New Zealanders towards a more sustainable conservation system, for people and nature alike.
This piece was first published by The Conversation.
Dr Elizabeth Macpherson is Pākehā and a Professor and Rutherford Discovery Fellow at Te Kaupeka Ture (Faculty of Law) at the University of Canterbury. Her research interests are in comparative environmental and natural resources law, human rights and Indigenous rights in Australasia and Latin America. She is the author of the award-winning book Indigenous Water Rights in Law and Regulation: Lessons from Comparative Experience (2019, Cambridge University Press) and leads the Rutherford Discovery Fellowship programme Blue Carbon Futures in Aotearoa New Zealand: Law, Climate, Resilience.
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I’ve read the article and get the picture: ‘Fortress conservation’ (mildly pejorative at the outset) suggests that conservation philosophy is an anachronistic and colonial concept that has had its day in the preservation sunshine. Now it is time for ‘plurality conservation’. I’m sure indigenous ecosystems will be delighted. As a conservation employee I’m biased of course, but let me defend that bias. Traditionally, there have been three parts to the conservation Venn diagram: Utilitarian Conservation (e.g. high-country stations, burning scrub, grazing and generally ‘improving’ the ‘forsaken’ land), Arcadian Conservation (the romantic, but utterly erroneous Garden of Eden notion. Read: Herds of special interest etc.) and, last, Deep Conservation (thick with tree-huggers, detached academics and hypocritical hippies). But this article sweeps away these hackneyed conservation hobby horses with the stiff yard broom of indigeneity and human rights. And I agree, we do need to broaden our ideas and do better for conservation (whatever that is), through wider cultural inclusion. To me, however, the issue is a persistently nagging anthropocentrism in all the previous models, including those in the article. I think it’s a philosophical sleight of hand to use another human-centred device to again winkle out the nuggets and eyes of natural history for human benefit, in this case elevating the dis-enfranchised. Meanwhile, as the Lorax said, “who will speak for the trees?” What actually is the crime of setting aside parts of the planet that have had minimal human modification? Isolated systems offer us so much to learn about how things work in our absence (the ‘experimental control’ if you will). Similarly, uninterrupted natural systems tell us more about ourselves (as an organism) than even the oldest ‘indigenous human ecosystems’ (Australia comes to mind). Where has our recent disdain of the non-human world emerged from? And if we need to broaden cultural inclusion for ‘better’ conservation, is the Antarctic Treaty not a working example? It’s all opinion driven – until the next irreversible ecological issue emerges through hubris.
The same argument is made in the late Geoff Park’s book Theatre Country, 2006. He passionately details how the colonial British attitudes to ‘Nature’ dictated that tracts of native forest be protected and controlled in order to preserve them, museum like, for future generations.
The rest of the country would be sold off for commercial purposes including agriculture, in the process being transformed into a ‘Britain of the South’ reflecting the extreme capitalist views that land was a commodity that could not be ‘wasted’ as forests and swamps.
The indigenous humans, flora and fauna, were expendable.