Dismissal of Ecan has bruised my faith in Kiwi democracy

April 8, 2010

My faith in common sense and ultimate fairness has taken a jolt this past week, with news that the NZ government has taken extraordinary steps to get rid of pretty much all avenues for opposition to the plunder of water in Canterbury for the sake of economic growth.

I wrote about this topic a few weeks ago (incidentally, that post was read by the largest number of all my posts over the past year – thanks for the feedback from so many people) and you can read my arguments – which still stand  – here.

At the time of writing that post, I had this perhaps naive belief that, with all the concern and anger that this stitched-up process (the Creech report) and the idea of getting rid of a democratic institution for political and economic reasons, the government might back down or at least leave the better parts of Ecan’s work and other water management strategy work in the region intact.

Oh dear, how really naive of me! The National/ACT government (or Hide, Smith and Key in particular) went even further than they’d intimated. Not only did we see the Canterbury Regional Council (the proper name for Ecan) written out of existence through a late-night bill passed under urgency (I understand), but we also saw a whole lot of other new laws that close off a whole raft of democratic activities and careful policy developments related to environmental protection.

It seem that there are now no avenues left for the people of Canterbury to have a formal say in how the region’s precious water resources will be allocated, and how its special landscape, soil and water can be protected from further environmental degradation.

Even if there is no immediate massive handout of water to an unsustainably growing dairy industry, the manner in which this has been done ensures that citizens will remain distrustful of this government for many years to come. This may prove to have been a very silly strategy in the long term, Mr Key.

My arguments remain the same – that democracy is too precious and hard won to be made subservient to economic efficiency and unchecked growth; that the growth of the dairy industry in Canterbury is unsustainable and a dairy industry crash – leading to more of the infrastructure and land being sold to overseas interests – is almost certain within the next 5-10 years; and that the Canterbury environment is seriously at risk in the face of this unchecked growth and pollution.

I’ve had little time for Hide, who is more intent on personal power and influence than most other politicians. I’ve had mixed feelings about Smith, who sometimes seems sincere in his efforts to improve environmental outcomes but then sometimes flies off aggressively on a tangent. And until now I’ve held Key in cautious respect – but since his handling and control of the Ecan/water issue, and his slippery advocacy for a mining boom, he’s slid down seriously in my estimation.

So what can be done now by those of us worried about this water takeover by the government and its big dairying friends? I suspect all that’s left is to support those people who are trying to oppose the trend through whatever official channels that this now limited democracy provides. And to keep making as much noise as I can whenever the appropriate opportunities arise.


Plenty to be concerned about in Ecan takeover

March 12, 2010

I may be wrong but . . . . there are a number of worrying aspects to the moves by the New Zealand government to get rid of Ecan (formerly Environment Canterbury) and replace it with government appointed commissioners to manage demands on Canterbury’s abundant but precious water.

For those not following these developments, a rough background. Ecan is a body elected by the people of Canterbury to develop and enact policy around all sorts of environmental issues in the region, including water, air, soil, transport, rivers, etc. Most ordinary residents don’t have much to do with it, but developers, farmers and environmentalists certainly do.

For all sorts of reasons, the NZ government chose to act on complaints from mainly developers and local government mayors about Ecan’s governance and performance. It appointed an ex-politician of its own persuasion, Wyatt Creech, himself a director of a dairying firm, to investigate and report back. No one was surprised when he said Ecan should be sacked and replaced by people who would be, almost certainly, more sympathetic to development and dairy farming.

Creech said Ecan has been too much focussed on the environment at the expense of the easier use of water, particularly for dairying. Hello . . . . isn’t that what Ecan means? Environment Canterbury?

Ecan has been criticised for years for being tardy in granting consents to developments that depend on the supply of water, from dams, rivers and wells. These criticisms, of course, have always been from developers – most people concerned about the environmental impacts are glad that someone is taking time to investigate and act cautiously. The wish of developers and many farmers has been (and from Creech, still is) that Ecan should be more like a rubber stamp, simply checking that an applicant can show the water exists and giving the tick.

Dairying is now huge in Canterbury, and demands for more irrigation are building all the time. Unsurprisingly, we’re told that Ecan has to deal with many times more resource consent applications than any other similar body in New Zealand, while the resource itself, the water, remains finite – and more limited with each application approved. No wonder they’ve been finding it hard to fulfil demands placed on them.

Without some care being taken, the whole region could easily become one giant dairy farm and every drop of available water allocated for industrial dairying (plus all the new electricity to power the pumps). Someone needs to make sure a proper balance is kept.

I am not against development, as long as it’s sustainable and balanced. I am against development purely for the sake of it. I am against the economic prerogative outweighing the environmental prerogative.

Until recently I lived for many years near the Heathcote River in Christchurch, and I had seen year by year the decline in water levels in that river during drier months. I’ve heard and read concerns about many other Canterbury waterways, both the flow volume and the quality, but the Heathcote I know of directly. It’s a signal that all is not well, and that water use inland is affecting areas beyond the immediate places of abstraction.

My concerns about the government’s attack on Ecan are several.  In no particular order:

1.  It’s bad for democracy that a government can replace a democratically elected body with its own appointments, especially for a body which has such a vitally important role for the whole of the Canterbury community. All public bodies have flaws, inefficiencies, political infighting, just as all large corporations do. It’s part of being a democracy and a free economy.

Taking the alternative to its logical limit, all we need is one elected god to run our country and we all do as told by the people he/she subcontracts. That’s efficient – so was Nazism. I’d rather have flawed but human representative government than efficient dictatorship.

2.  The over-emphasis on dairying in New Zealand genuinely worries me. Dairy products are commodities, the prices and costs for which go up and down with world supply and demand. It suffers from booms and busts. It’s doing pretty well right now, but only a year or two ago we had dairy farmers fretting about prices dropping to the point where their operations were becoming unprofitable.

Today more than ever we need to be developing a balanced economy, where booms and busts can smooth each other out as much as possible. Some Canterbury land may not currently be kind to perhaps sheep farmers or croppers, but there will be times when the pendulum will swing. To me, it’s plain daft to rely too much on dairying. Haven’t we yet learned the lessons of the boom times and the bad times in all sorts of industries?

3.  I will believe and aver to my dying day that there is no point in making great economic gains if the environment in which we want to enjoy their benefits is spoiled. Balance is the keyword.

4.  One of Ecan’s jobs is (or should be) to try to ensure all development is sustainable. By this I don’t mean the common, sloppy use of the word “sustainable” as a synonym for “green” or “environmentally friendly”. I mean it literally – the activity or development can be sustained into at least the medium future. It can keep going, in the good times and the bad. It doesn’t depend on the latest boom or bubble (such as house trading or borrowing as a way of making us richer).

To my mind, building more and more and more bigger and bigger dairy farms across the landscape of the region leads eventually to an unsustainable economy, as well as an unsustainable environment.

For all these reasons, and for a few others that I can’t think of right now, I believe Ecan should be encouraged to continue its work and further develop its water management strategy which, from all reports, is a most promising development in itself.


Haiti – a lesson about big cities

January 24, 2010

The terrible humanitarian situation in Haiti following the big earthquake is saddening beyond measure. As for so many other outsiders I’m sure, for me there is an overwhelming feeling of helplessness that even donating significant sums of money cannot alleviate.

The disaster also offers some lessons and insights about modern living, and I’m going to discuss one. Please note, however – it is not my desire in any way to take advantage of the situation to plug some of my beliefs, but rather, hopefully, to add just a little long-term perspective. (Other lessons will doubtless be learned, especially political ones, and many will be quickly forgotten as well.)

Most of what we’re read and heard and seen in the various media has centred on what’s happening in and around the capital Port-au-Prince, a city, we’re told, of 3 million souls.

It’s easy to feel anger or disgust when reading about or watching the looting and anarchy, the stampedes for food, but try to imagine a similar situation in a quake-threatened Wellington with its population of around half a million.

With the airport essentially out of action, how would planes get in with aid? With roads damaged and buildings collapsed along major thoroughfares, how would stuff be distributed? How would you get your survival food after days, even weeks, if all the shops ran dry or were destroyed? What would you drink if the water reticulation system was broken?

How long would it take before you took matters into your own hands and grabbed what you could from wherever you could find it? Desperate shortages lead to desperate actions.

We in New Zealand started to imagine the implications of such infrastructure stress when swine flu caused alarm a year or so ago. What would you need on hand within your home if you couldn’t easily get to the supermarket or the chemist? We’ve also had civil defence analysis and advice put to us to contemplate what would happen in an earthquake or tsunami struck here. We tried to think down that path, but it’s so hard to actually picture. I think it wouldn’t be much different to events in Port au Prince, perhaps just a slightly more dignified or restrained desperation J

My point is that cities of the size of Port-au-Prince, or Sydney, or Auckland simply cannot operate for their residents without the infrastructure to enable goods and services to be traded or exchanged. In all but the most primitive of lifestyles, life depends on the exchange of products and services. You have no garden? That’s OK, you simply buy food from those who do, using money you got from selling what you do have or services you offer to others in the city who don’t have what you do.

It all works as long as there are places of exchange, the means for buyers and sellers to travel to those places, accessible producers of all goods and services regarded as necessary or desirable for life (including transportation to ship in goods not produced locally), and willing buyers and sellers.

But what happens when the market infrastructure breaks down physically? If sellers cannot get goods to market, or cannot even produce the goods, and/or if buyers cannot get to market or cannot afford to pay for purchasers, then it all turns to custard. In a big city, that is.

In smaller communities, people can exchange without the need for the intermediary marketplaces, and distance and access to market is not a problem.

Four months ago I moved from a city of 400,000 people to Motueka, a town of around 10,000. Now everything I need to live comfortably and productively is within walking or cycling distance. The surrounding countryside is capable of supporting the living needs (in particular, the food) of all the residents. The water is sourced locally so, if push came to shove, I could walk to the river to fill a few pots.

If a major disaster hit Motueka, many people’s livelihoods would be severely affected, but we would mostly get by with locally grown food that is accessible via barter trades from walkable sources. We could get clean water (although a tsunami may limit that for a while if lots of seawater got in). With a town built of discrete houses rather that built in top of and hard up against each other, it would be relatively easy to gather enough materials to built adequate temporary shelters.

Sure, there are some nice things that are not readily available in this town, such as big-box retail outlets, concerts by overseas entertainers, tertiary learning institutions, and a full range of eateries (though we do pretty well here on these). For these we do need to drive to Nelson, the nearest city, or Wellington or Christchurch. But most of us know that these consumer items are elective add-ons, not necessities of life.

I wrote about the reasons I moved to Motueka here. Those reasons are based on concepts of community, physical size, and healthy sustainability. The news of yet another humanitarian tragedy in Port-au-Prince, which has been made far worse than many other earthquakes because it was centred near a large, populous, overcrowded and already-stressed city, reinforces for me the unsustainable nature of living cheek-by-jowl in large cities.

I’m not saying that therefore all large cities should be broken up and the population moved to smaller towns and communities, but by encouraging the growth of larger cities – by centralising markets in order to build further material wealth – we are making ever bigger problems for ourselves into the future (as well as enlarging the potential for natural disasters to lead to greater humanitarian tragedies).

I may be wrong but . . . . I believe we should stop fostering ever-larger cities and population centres by encouraging decentralised economies, and by de-emphasising market-driven consumer economics.


Jacob galvanises my resolve on the environment and climate change

December 7, 2009

I’ve had a week off, returning to Christchurch to meet my brand new grandson Jacob, the first (and my daughter swears, my only) on my side of the family.

Like any new granddad, it was a delight to see this extension of the family, and a wonder to be reminded how small and defenceless we all started out.

But it also drew me to think again about what sort of environment Jacob will experience as he grows and becomes an adult, a parent and grandparent himself. The present Copenhagen conference on climate change takes on a new importance for me.

I’ve always taken the view that humankind should be taking better care of our world and its finite resources. I’m basically a greenie, although I like to think a practical and realistic one. But sometimes, as the world grinds on inexorably toward an ever more unsustainable future, I feel a weariness of care, like an old age pensioner who’s run out of puff.

I’m 66 now, and in my more resigned moments I find myself thinking that I won’t be around if and when the oceans rise enough to threaten the location of my present home. I won’t be caring much if other parts of New Zealand suffer environmental degradation, because I’ll be reading books in my grannie flat and walking around the block for exercise.

I can only do so much, or even less, so why not just leave the energetic work to the next generation? Peak oil won’t come until after I no longer want to drive the length of the country or fly overseas. Serious climate change effects hopefully won’t be too drastic for another 20 years or so. By then I’ll be past caring.

And then I cradled Jacob. He’s fresh to the world and has a good chance of seeing the 22nd century. He won’t be able to ignore the problems our Western civilisation is lining up for itself; he’ll have to live with those problems. For perhaps 80, perhaps 100 years. The prediction of 1.5 metres of sea level rising before the end of the century is meaningless to me, but crucial for Jacob, because before half his life is done he’ll see the results of water shortages, water wars and other global unrest, environmental degradation even here in Godzone, and the collapse of the consumer society.

Jacob didn’t ask to be born into this world. And we who rejoice his arrival must also accept our responsibility to do whatever we can to make his life as good as ours has been. So I’ll keep advocating for less consumerism, better environmental awareness, and for national and business leaders to show more far-sightedness than just the pursuit of tomorrow’s dollar.

The Copenhagen conference must be a catalyst for some real change in attitudes, some real leadership, and some real care and concern for the future of Jacob and other babes born last week and next.


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