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In Book Takes, authors share three things that readers will gain from their books as well as an insight into what they learnt during the researching and writing. This week, David Young talks about Force of Nature, which he co-wrote with Naomi Arnold.
Since the 1960s, when he was a young journalist, former Listener writer David Young has had an active interest in environmentalism. Now a conservation historian and daily inspired by regeneration efforts in coastal Tasman, he has written several books on conservation and, more recently, climate change.
His latest, Force of Nature Te aumangea o te Ao Tūroa: A conservation history of Forest & Bird (1923–2023), is cowritten with Naomi Arnold and tells the story of the independent environmental charity.
Given that Forest & Bird members and supporters have been present at nearly every major environmental campaign during the past 100 years – fighting to protect many of our most precious landscapes, plants and animals – there’s a fair few stories to tell.
Force of Nature brings them together in one place and illustrates them with archive and modern-day images of the wild places and wildlife that conservationists have helped preserve during the past 100 years.
Here, David shares three things readers will enjoy about the book – and something he learnt from writing it.
Forest & Bird’s Pérrine Moncrieff was a force of nature
As well as winning the hearts and minds of New Zealanders, conservationists also need to be politically adroit to achieve big environmental wins. During World War II, Forest & Bird’s Pérrine Moncrieff pulled off a remarkable win when she led a successful campaign to establish Abel Tasman National Park.
Moncrieff, a leading ornithologist, was determined to protect the bird-filled (but fast-vanishing) wild landscapes of lush, forested hillsides, secluded white sandy coves, sculptured granite cliffs and turquoise waters. It was hard to get the attention of a post-Depression Labour government engaged in fighting a budget-sapping world war, so Moncrieff decided to leverage the park’s designation off the upcoming 300th anniversary of Dutch explorer Abel Tasman’s bloody skirmish off her hometown of Nelson.
She also involved the glamour of Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands to help persuade politicians to establish the country’s first lowland national park. In November 1942, Prime Minister Peter Fraser announced the government’s decision to set aside nearly 38,000 acres. A month later, marking the tricentenary exactly, Abel Tasman National Park was officially opened, a remarkable testament to Moncrieff’s vision and determination.
Another intriguing character
Another intriguing character in the book is Ernest Corbett, a Forest & Bird member who became a prototype “Minister of Conservation” from 1949-1957 during the post-war National government under PM Sidney Holland. His portfolios were Lands, Forestry and Māori Affairs. He was born to this. Raised on a farm on the Parihaka coast under Mt Taranaki, educated as a Pākehā pupil at a then Native School, he became fluent in te reo. He was a Christian of deep principle.
What eventually became Te Urewera National Park in 1960 was then advanced with, for the times, considerable Tiriti awareness, consistent with the urging of Forest & Bird’s leadership. As a tramper, committed Forest & Birder and local native forest protector, Corbett argued explicitly for protection provisions for Ngāi Tūhoe interests in step with the society’s conservation advocacy concerns. It was this national park that 60 years later was returned to Ngāi Tūhoe under the 2014 Treaty settlement that recognised its forests, lakes and waters with “legal personhood” status.
An insight into personal race relations
From the start of Forest & Bird in 1923, its founder, Captain Val Sanderson, was acutely aware how important it was for his society to genuinely engage with iwi Māori. In 1924, as part of a campaign to encourage more Māori support for Forest & Bird’s aims, he created and distributed a pānuitanga notice in te reo, calling on both Māori and Pākehā to stop more native birds, such as the moa, going extinct.
Sanderson’s early posters and Forest & Bird magazine articles always included the te reo names for native birds, and he actively encouraged Māori to join. The first known member was Hokianga chief Nopere Otene, who sent in his first sub in 1923 and wanted help protecting birds in local kauri forests. Sanderson visited him in Northland to help support his campaign.
Through articles in the society’s magazine, Sanderson commissioned experts to educate Pākehā on topics such as “Māori as conservationists”, and the concept of kaitiakitanga guardianship, a way of managing the environment in te ao Māori.
In 1933, one of Forest & Bird’s vice presidents, Cecilia O’Rorke, wrote to Sanderson pointing out there were no Māori names among the society’s leadership. She said this was a major omission and Māori should be formally represented. Two years later, Māori bishop of Aotearoa Frederick Augustus Bennett (Ngāti Whakaūe) became the first “Representative of the Māori Race”, and later a patron. At the same time, some of Forest & Bird’s ideas for nature protection, such as bird sanctuaries on land where Māori customarily hunted birds, challenged the birthright of tangata whenua. Outstanding among 1950s efforts to bring mātauranga Māori into the reach of Forest & Bird membership started in Whakatāne.
Here the enduring friendship between “Bessie” Jaram (Taranaki and Ngāti Pukeko) and Violet Rucroft became a catalyst for bicultural education, which led to a Forest & Bird family camp being held on a local marae in a bid to gain Māori support for stopping logging in parts of Te Urewera.
What I learnt from writing this book
He aha te mea nui o te ao? He tāngata he tāngata he tāngata!
Writing about Forest & Bird’s first five decades, I was reminded of the importance of “people power” in winning over the hearts and minds of ordinary New Zealanders for any environmental campaign to be successful. Much can be achieved by having a clear vision, working together, and never giving up. This is what happened in 1970 when the society’s volunteers galvanised 264,000 people, nearly one in 10 New Zealanders, to sign to a record-breaking petition to save Lake Manapōuri from being destroyed by a huge hydro-electric power scheme. The petition was the culmination of a 15-year campaign that nearly bankrupted Forest & Bird, who paid for lawyers to argue against the proposed scheme as well as taking on the cost of organising the petition.
The Save Manapōuri campaign resulted in a national outpouring of environmental awareness and a powerful conservation movement was born. Forest & Bird’s membership jumped to 60,000 and many of these new members went on to become lifelong conservationists and achieve many wins for nature.
Today, conservation is expressed in many ways – by volunteers trapping or planting in local nature reserves, by restoring a wetland or coastal area, by making submissions for or against government policy, and by donating to Forest & Bird’s climate, freshwater, terrestrial or marine campaigns.
The book is full of stories I didn’t know about before embarking on the writing. The Force of Nature researcher Michael Pringle unearthed lots of fascinating archives, including letters, photographs, posters and other society memorabilia. All shine a light on colourful characters, what motivated them to act and what they achieved. History may be another country, but inspiring stories like theirs demonstrate how central te taio nature is to being a New Zealander and why we all need to be kaitiaki guardians of our country’s precious natural world.
