Bushy Park, a pristine lowland forest near Whanganui, is home to a wide diversity of native species that deserve protection in their own right.
Bushy Park, a pristine lowland forest near Whanganui, is home to a wide diversity of native species that deserve protection in their own right.
Why should we conserve biodiversity?
Why do we protect native biodiversity and natural areas? In medieval times, lands were set aside, with or without common consent, to safeguard certain rights of those in power.
Access to and activities in such areas were restricted so that only nobles or their associatescould hunt or fish in them. Preserving the species in these areas was usually not the aim but an outcome, and not an assured one either, as the eventual extinction of some hunted species shows.
Later, mostly between the 16th and 19th centuries, whole forests were protected to safeguard the trees needed for ship building and construction. Again, conservation was guided by economic imperatives, rather than by a desire to protect nature more broadly. In brief, with its focus on human benefit and economic interest, it emphasised the utilitarian value of nature.
Today, that notion is extended to encompass other economic benefits, such as those arising from tourism or outdoor recreation.
Only in the late 19th century did the concept of protecting nature in its own right fully emerge. That movement was rooted in the idea of nature having intrinsic value, in contrast to the utilitarian viewpoint. The concept itself embodies two different perspectives. One sees intrinsic value as being subjective, rooted in human judgment of nature's qualities, often perceived in aesthetic terms: scenic and specific beauty; picturesque; grand; majestic. The other considers species, and the ecosystems of which they are part, as having value in themselves, stemming from their evolutionary history and potential, an inherent worth that can neither be assigned nor withdrawn. This viewpoint underpins many modern conservation initiatives to protect biodiversity.
Peter Frost
These contrasting value systems -- utilitarian and intrinsic -- can clash when we try to define the purpose of a particular protected area. Take Bushy Park, for example. When the land around Kai Iwi was being cleared in the late 1800s, one block of land was protected: Bushy Park. Apparently, in the 1880s, James Moore, the father of Frank Moore, who bequeathed Bushy Park to the Royal New Zealand Forest and Bird Society in 1962, kept this patch of forest intact because of its pristine nature. This seems to have been an aesthetic judgment.
Bushy Park remains pristine today. It is well protected, clear of non-native mammalian predators, except mice, and is now home to various threatened species. Volunteers work tirelessly to eradicate or control invasive plants and uphold the infrastructure. It has a well-maintained network of public walking tracks that serve a growing education programme for schools and attract a range of tourists. By all measures, it is a conservation success, with no evidence that any of these activities currently compromise the future of the species living there.
But what of the future? Conservation is not without cost, so who will pay to continue conserving Bushy Park, and why? Should we expand the facilities and, if so, in what ways, to what extent and what ends? Would creating more recreational opportunities attract more tourists and generate more revenue? Would this benefit or detract from the biodiversity values of the forest and, if so, by how much? How many tourists can the area sustain? We don't know the answers to these questions, just as we don't know them for most of New Zealand's conservation estate.
Much of this thinking reflects a somewhat people-centred view of the forest and its inhabitants, that it exists primarily for human benefit, principally recreation. Shouldn't we refocus on the idea of Bushy Park being primarily a place for other species, one where a light human footprint leaves them space to live? The challenge is, however: who will pay?
