Book Review: Guardians of Aotearoa, by Johanna Knox, photos by Jess Charlton

Available in bookshops nationwide.

cv_guardians_of_aotearoa‘Sometimes it feels like our living world, our cultural knowledge, our people and communities are under siege’ reads the dust jacket of Guardians of Aotearoa: Protecting New Zealand’s Legacies. This first line cuts straight to the zeitgeist and the current cultural climate where opinion is favoured over fact, nationalism is on the rise, inaction in the face of a beleaguered natural environment continues and discussion in the public sphere is so often reductive, perhaps another symptom of the competitive nature of modern life, where all feel that their way of life is under threat.

Guardians of Aotearoa, by Johanna Knox with photography from Jess Charlton, is a timely and welcome tonic. It is part documentation, part celebration of the people whose values and efforts Knox admires, in addition to the legacies they seek to uphold. The book also speaks to a shift in the political landscape: a move from a focus on GDP and material goods to that of values and wellbeing, which is intertwined with health, environment and education.

Initially Knox was commissioned by Bateman Books to make a book about New Zealand’s environmental heroes. But, as she writes in the introduction, this didn’t sit quite right: ‘How do you divorce the natural environment from people and culture? We’re part of a whole.’ This is reflected not only in Te Ao Maori and the principles and practices of kaitiakitanga, but also in the impact of human actions, or inaction as the case may be, on the world around us.

Those profiled span a diverse range of practices but common to all is their care for what they do. Their ‘work rarely fits one tidy category’ – indeed cross disciplinary approaches are common. The legacies included traverse ecologies of all types – cultural, community, environmental – and, accordingly, people of all types to foster them: from shoemakers to the founder of Rockquest. There is Graham O’Keeffe – head of the MOTAT print shop, who is ‘not just educating, but keeping a vanishing art alive’; ecologist Catriona Gower, who by sharing her passion for bats has brought together communities; Lloyd and Joan Whittaker, who have dedicated their lives to maintaining a rich collection of heritage instruments and making these accessible.

Care and interconnection come through the book as the essential ingredients to addressing the challenges that face us and preserving the things that matter to us. Niki Harré, author and psychology lecturer, says that ‘unless we face climate change with a strong sense of love: for each other, in the broadest sense, it’s not likely to go well’. Tina Ngata, the environmental and indigenous rights advocate, affirms that we cannot talk about guardianship, or kaitiekitanga as it is known in the East Coast dialect, without looking after language, child rearing and other rights too. Thinking of these connections across time is also fundamental – put simply, as Ngata says, we need to think of how we can be good ancestors.

This is a handsome and satisfying volume, which underlines a belief in the power of individuals’ stories to inspire. By gathering them in this book, Knox also captures an ecology and community of action. The challenge in front of us is widening this sphere of influence.

As one of the guardians, freshwater ecologist Mike Joy, states: ‘Go to the people that aren’t converted. That’s the hard stuff. That’s where you’ll make the difference.’

Reviewed by Emma Johnson

Guardians of Aotearoa
by Johanna Knox, photos by Jess Charlton
Published by Bateman Books
ISBN 9781869539023

Book Review: The Journal of Urgent Writing, edited by Nicola Legat

Available now in bookshops nationwide.

cv_the_journal_of_urgent_writingThis book, or journal, is the first in a planned annual collection of long form essays from (mostly) academics and journalists, addressing “urgent” topics that they have been researching or thinking about recently. If continued as planned, these journals should give a snapshot about issues that were concerning us at that time – or that should have been concerning us more, in retrospect. In any case, this collection brings specialist writers to a more generalist audience. A fine idea that seems to be gaining in popularity, considering that Auckland University Press has also just published a collection of non-fiction stories and essays.

Some editorial decisions have probably been made about the order in which these essays are presented, but I could not pick up any logic in the placement. In some cases essays that touch on similar subjects are placed far apart, making me wonder whether they would have given the reader a different impression if read sequentially. I only wondered this after reading two essays that did seem to segue: historian Peter Meihana writes on how the concept of “Māori privilege” may be part of New Zealand’s national creation myth, used by colonial governments to both claim egalitarianism and to sanction Māori dispossession. This is followed by Krushil Watene’s piece on water, law and philosophical concepts of ownership. Watene argues that indigenous perspectives on humans’ connection to and responsibility to nature are among the philosophical forces that can lead us away from recent (environmentally disastrous) ideologies that privilege exploitation of natural sources for individual gain.

I suspect that, as with a magazine, these pieces should be picked up in whatever order the reader cares. No more energy for new arguments? Flick to the sole pictorial essay and marvel at diatoms! I just wasn’t feeling it when I turned to an essay about why children can’t read, so came back to it later only to realise that it wasn’t the subject that had left me cold, but the fact that the essay had none of the conversational qualities that made some of the others so engaging. Nothing wrong with a list of well-argued refutations of myths on this topic, and I’m sure the piece could have formed the basis of a good lecture, but there was no illustrative anecdote, no insertion of the authors’ voices into the narrative along the lines of “when we first looked at this issue we expected X, but here’s what happened…”.

Other readers may well differ, but the most successful essays for me were the ones that gave the feeling of a good sit-down chat with someone who knows way more than you on a particular topic and would just love to tell you about how they discovered it. The first piece – Dan Salmon on the problem of sustainable tuna fisheries and so much more – is a fantastic example of this. The next piece is a complete change of tune: an address to graduates about how to live a good life which, although containing plenty of warm and worthwhile advice, did not strike me as especially “urgent” or new. Paul McDonald’s address does, however, incorporate advice which could be a commissioning brief for this kind of collection: “Tell stories, too, especially those that exemplify our humanity. Constructive change is most likely to result from a combination of logical data and a compelling story”.

To that end, Jarrod Gilbert makes riveting use of statistics combined with shocking examples of how those stats are or are not addressed, in his essay on crime and justice. He writes like a guy who could talk your ear off about any number of maddening stories on these topics without getting at all boring.

Mike Joy is angry about the state of our rivers, and this is hardly news, but it is perhaps fitting that his subject and angle was the one I could most easily predict from looking at the author list. His essay charts his personal and professional journey to becoming “that scientist who campaigns about freshwater”, and the dramas along the way.

Teena Brown Pulu tells an intensely emotional family story to illustrate the irrelevance of rules that force people to nominate only one ethnicity to identify with. Paula Morris and David Slack also do lovely work weaving wider themes into their reflections about life stages and parents. Slack’s final essay ends the collection beautifully on a poignant and hopeful note.

Richard Shaw addresses arguments for why young people disengage from democracy and what should be done about it, in a topical and indeed urgent piece that is hard to read now without thinking ”ah, this was written right before THAT THING happened in the USA…”
Speaking of which, it’s only fair that a collection of urgent 2016 writing should allude to the political news in the USA. In the one essay that genuinely irritated me, Paul Thomas started off with what seemed like a “damn kids get off my lawn” invective against the “cult of self-esteem”, politically correct outrage and social media narcissism. He then annoyed me further by seguing into what may be a fair point, arguing that Trump’s rise to power is linked to his embodiment of extreme narcissism which is only now seen as normal. Frankly that’s an argument I was just not ready to read about, even if it contains a grain of truth. 2016, everyone.

To sum up, a quote from another highly topical essay reminds us what this compilation is aiming for. David Hall’s fair-minded discussion about the meaning of environmental politics buzzwords such as “green growth” concludes: “By taking seriously other ideas, even those we disagree with, we force ourselves to think better about our own.”

With that in mind, bring on the 2017 round of thought-provoking rants.

Reviewed by Rebecca Gray

The Journal of Urgent Writing
edited by Nicola Legat
Massey University Press
ISBN 9780994130068