Matt Morris first met Bob Crowder about 1993. Morris recalls that their initial conversation took place in aisle seven of the New World supermarket in St Martins, Christchurch.
“I was 18 and worked at the supermarket while studying history at the University of Canterbury. I often saw him there.”
It didn’t occur to Morris at the time, but Crowder only used the supermarket to supplement the abundance of food pouring out of the Biological Husbandry Unit (BHU) at Lincoln University. Morris learned later that Crowder started the unit in the late 1970s, making him one of the pioneers of the modern organics movement in New Zealand.
“He left me with his card and told me that he was on the world board of IFOAM. At the time this meant nothing to me. I later found out it was the International Federation of Organic Agricultural Movements, an organisation that had been driving and supporting the development of organic production across the globe for more than two decades.”
As Morris and Crowder got to know each other better during the next few years, Morris became more inspired by his work: trying to develop a system of living that was in harmony with nature, creating beauty, joy and nourishment as he went.
“Perhaps it was inevitable that I would end up trying to write his story.”
Morris’s book Bob Crowder: A New Zealand organics pioneer is out now. Here, Morris shares three top takes from the biography.
Metamorphosis
Bob Crowder is recognised as perhaps the most important figure in New Zealand’s organic farming history. Bob exemplifies many qualities, including service, courage, determination and, often, the brutality of plain-speaking. His story demonstrates, above all, how important it is to embody one’s own sense of self. His butterfly-like metamorphosis from clean-cut young scientist in the industrial horticultural machine to radical, Morris-dancing organics proponent (after a Sabbatical in the UK) was dramatic and magnificent.
Pragmatism
While Bob was unrelenting in his passion for organics – basically a working methodology for how to heal a world – he was exceptionally pragmatic in advancing this mission. For a start, his arguments rested on science rather than folklore, and he protected his scientific credibility meticulously. But he also courted Federated Farmers and various New Zealand governments with much success. It was a stroke of genius to be able to marry the scientific establishment with government, the Feds and the organic movement into a holy alliance which propelled a nascent commercial organics industry onto the international stage. Few personalities could have achieved this.
Sacrifice
The private man behind this very public profile was, to some extent, sacrificed on this altar of organics. He faced ongoing ridicule from his colleagues and bullying from some corners of industry. As a gay man, his romantic life arguably suffered. Homosexuality was still illegal and as he was holding a high-profile role in the public sector, it was hard, if not impossible, to give this part of himself space. This is especially true given that homophobia undoubtedly played its part in the repeated ridiculing of Bob’s environmental theories, which ran counter to accepted agricultural and economic truths at this time.
One insight I gained while writing: Sense of calling
Among the many things I learned from writing this book was the astonishing way Bob’s childhood experiences shaped his entire trajectory. His very early years were spent growing up in the frequently bombed Isle of Wight. His playground over the road was literally a bomb site, but he transformed this into his first ever garden. This urge to create beauty out of chaos, to restore the world through gardening, clearly never left him. He was only 8 when he found his calling. It took him a few decades to fully embrace it, but when he did, he flourished.
Bob Crowder: A New Zealand organics pioneer by Matt Morris (Otago University Press, $45) is out on Wednesday, March 14.
