Critical Response to Geoff Park's "Theatre Country"

Geoff Park is primarily an ecological historian.  His interests lie in conserving areas of indigenous ecosystems, especially lowland forest, and striving to understand the colonial attitudes of our country that led to the plights he describes. He was a member of the DOC and DSIR until 1996 when he established the Geoff Park Landscape History and Ecology consultancy.

Under the Seddon government of the 1890’s, the role of the natural landscape of Aotearoa filled a purpose related to visual beauty. Isolated areas of this country were kept unaltered in order to “make the countryside more beautiful to travel through and be a source of pleasure.”[1] and was presented as both policy and reason. This, ‘pillar of British Imperialism’ allowed these legislations under his administration to embellish his ‘Britain of the South Pacific’, as an act that would have brought more revenue for the country, not through tourism, but through immigration and the British travelling class. However the effect is the same as a tourist operator from the United States selling New Zealand as a country with an integrated culture and natural environment. It portrays the country in an idealized manner, to suit and appeal to tourists who wish to experience this supposed integration, but in doing so, weaken it. Park assumes the position that it is not a country that is integrated; rather, a country with a heightened lack of ability to integrate and “no framework for living with the indigenous”. [2] due to these protected areas that have merely been left from extreme urban planning and advanced human activity.

I particularly find it interesting the gradual shift of importance from visually impressive land to endemic fauna, as the main reasons for protection, especially in regard to the dual translation of whenua.
The impetus for the legislation of landscape laws was informed by perception, yet those laws set in motion the ability for us to continue a different concern of today. In the 1890’s, the landscape was to be merely enjoyed, but “only when the needs of the settlement..have been amply met and provided for.” [3] Their approach is telling of the needs and concerns of their generation, where the default land type of New Zealand was wild, un-farmable and (therefore) dangerous. Deciding which areas were protected under the Seddon government was as simple as choosing the most beautiful views. These areas seem isolated only now, as civilization has engulfed these pocketed areas, surrounding them with a sea of humanity. Less beautiful areas, like swamps and wetlands, were easily transformed into farm land, and their significant part of the ecosystem, unrespected.

Another example of total shift in impetus for conservation are the principles of Gifford Pinchot. His three principles of conservation, within the context of a wild, immense country, (U.S.A., 1700’s) would have seemed sensible and necessary. However, like Seddon’s concepts, they conflict with the current concepts of conservation.
Of his three principles, one is that “the fullest use of [our natural resources] for the present generation is the first duty of this generation”[4] , which seems to contradict the contemporary concern for future generations. The last principle, “The natural resources must be developed and preserved for the benefit of the many, and not merely for the profit of a few”, brings up the theme of the Tragedy of the Commons, by Hardin, in that “...ruin is the destination toward which all men rush, each pursuing his own best interest in a society that believes in the freedom of the commons. Freedom in the commons brings ruin to all.”[5] These two concepts from two very different generations, shows both a change in the idea of conservation, but more importantly, the importance of human life. While Pinochot aims to assist ‘the many’, Hardin warns us of the impact of the resources being used by many. Hardin continues his warnings in not only taking resources, but a huge population creating waste: “ ‘Flowing water purifies itself every ten miles’ my grandfather used to say, and the myth was near enough to the truth when he was a boy, for there were not too many people. But as population becomes denser, the natural chemical and biological recycling processes became overloaded, calling for a redefinition of property rights.”[6]
Throughout his writings, Hardin makes strong cases for the interrelation between property rights and human rights, that Pinchot’s generation would have no-doubt found controversial. It is a redefinition that I believe is required of various land protection laws in New Zealand, to include more requirements for the fauna to survive, such as taking pollination (of distant flora) and insect populations (from nearby yet different ecosystems) into consideration.

I find that visually unimpressive art, such as contemporary conceptual, CAN be arguably admired as beautiful if we are to appreciate the inner-workings; to fathom it’s existence.
So too, I believe, that less “beautiful” areas (instructed by the Western European sensibilities of Wordsworth and Claude) can likewise to found to be beautiful if we are to appreciate their equation with the other parts of the natural landscape. One major concern in Finland at present is the lack of decaying woods within their highly managed and manicured forests, (furniture industry). Though traditionally ‘un-beautiful’ they contain most of the diverse areas and animals.

The major shift is that from beauty to saving fauna from extinction.
Less traditional beautiful areas of Aotearoa must be reassesed for their own protection, as the impetus for these laws have also evolved, so too have we evolved from an agricultural colony bent on export.

Our landscape should strive to become the “shockingly...wild”[7] land that McCahon suggests tourists to steer away from: a land with heart and other organ ties, such as the placenta.
When considered in terms of whenua, the land adopts not an objectifying position, but one that cradles the current crisis: the fauna within it. Our generation has centered our mission of conservation squarely at the ‘child’ that the placenta feeds: the native animals. In this refreshing metaphor, the land is reassesed not as the object to be saved, but instead as an integral organ of life-nourishment for those that rely upon it. It becomes beautiful, both the swamp and the forest; newly reassessed as part of the equation for native life.

[1] Park, Geoff “Theatre Country: Essays on Landscape and Whenua”, Wellington: 2006 (pg 197)
[2] ibid, (pg 202)
[3] ibid, (pg 197)
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/giffordpinchot
[5] Hardin, Garrett, “The Tragedy of the Commons”, New York: Science, 1968 (pg1245)
[6] ibid, (pg 1247)
[7] Park, Geoff “Theatre Country: Essays on Landscape and Whenua”, Wellington: 2006 (pg 203)