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Indian Ocean Futures
Indian Ocean Futures: Communities, Sustainability and Security Edited by
Thor Kerr and John Stephens
Indian Ocean Futures: Communities, Sustainability and Security Edited by Thor Kerr and John Stephens This book first published 2016 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2016 by Thor Kerr, John Stephens and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-9492-3 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-9492-0
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Figures and Tables ........................................................................ viii Acknowledgements .................................................................................... xi Preface ....................................................................................................... xii Indian Oceans and Seascapes: Blue Economies and Communities or Race to the Bottom of the Sea? Timothy Doyle Introduction .............................................................................................. xxi Thor Kerr and John Stephens List of Abbreviations ............................................................................ xxviii Negotiating Heritage and Identity Chapter One ................................................................................................. 2 ‘Change the World One Mind at a Time’: A School’s Vision of an Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Mark Fielding Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 15 Open Letter to the President Elect: An Example of Heritage Activism through the Media in Iran Ali Mozaffari Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 34 Nostalgia: Memories of the Past, Longing for the Future Layli Rakhsha Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 49 Australian Border Works: Representation of Coastal Places in Anzac Centenary Books Thor Kerr
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Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 67 Heritage and Protest at the Guildford Hotel John Stephens Mobilizing Technologies for Sustainable Community Chapter Six ................................................................................................ 90 Cultural Models on the Western Australian Coast: Improving Sustainability Outcomes Laura Stocker and Jenny Shaw Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 122 A Collaborative Approach to Coastal Adaptation to Sea Level Rise in the Southwest of WA Laura Stocker, Gary Burke, Svetla Petrova and Bob Pokrant Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 154 Applying a Sustainable Development Model to Informal Settlements in Addis Ababa Zafu Teferi, Peter Newman and Annie Matan Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 170 Sustainability Accounting for Natural Resource Management in Bangladesh Mahmood Hasan Khan, Amzad Hossain and Dora Marinova Change and the Discursive Frontiers of Security Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 192 Sino-Indian Strategic Competition and the New Scramble for the Indian Ocean David Brewster Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 208 Crisis amidst Abundance: Food Security in Bangladesh Asif Siddiqui, Amzad Hossain and Dora Marinova Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 229 Securing Space for Hospitality in a Settler-colonial City Robyn Creagh, Thor Kerr, Shaphan Cox and Patricia Ryder
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Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 247 Let Me Tell You a Story: Indian Ocean Regional Futures in a Planetary Civilisation Anita Sykes-Kelleher Contributors ............................................................................................. 265
LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES
Figures Figure 2.1. Figure 3.1. Figure 3.2. Figure 3.3. Figure 3.4. Figure 4.1. Figure 4.2. Figure 5.1. Figure 5.2. Figure 5.3. Figure 6.1. Figure 6.2. Figure 6.3. Figure 6.4. Figure 7.1. Figure 7.2. Figure 7.3. Figure 7.4. Figure 8.1. Figure 8.2. Figure 9.1. Figure 9.2. Figure 11.1.
Extent of Persian Civilizational Domain (marked in arrows) according to Pahlavan Hossein Vamanaesh, Shade of Green, 2009 Hossein Vamanaesh, Longing Belonging, 1997 Khadim Ali, Haunted Lotus, 2012 Khadim Ali, The Heart That Has No Love, Pain and Generosity is Not a Heart, 2012 Anzac Peace Park, Albany, Western Australia Top-shelf Australian children’s books in Dymocks, Garden City, Perth The Guildford Hotel façade after the fire The rear of the fire-damaged Guildford Hotel Sock protest outside the fire-damaged Guildford Hotel Diagram of the Leeuwin Current and its spatial relationship to WA Bioregions Digital elevation model of Rottnest Shelf and Perth Coastal Plain Present coastline of Derbal Nara (Cockburn Sound) indicated over 9,000-year-old coastscape Brightly coloured camps on one of the Islands of the Abrolhos Location of Busselton in the southwest of WA Coastal hazard mapping, Busselton Participants’ climate-change knowledge, concerns and involvement before / after workshop Activities contributing to shared knowledge development Indonesian slum dwellers and the Extended Metabolism Model Older slum settlement of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Representation of sustainability using a Venn diagram Representation of sustainability accounting principles The pillars of food security in Bangladesh
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Figure 12.1. Figure 12.2. Figure 12.3. Figure 12.4.
Figure 12.5 Figure 12.6. Figure 12.7.
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Nyoongar Tent Embassy State Library of WA. The yellow vinyl I’m Here All The Time is visible on the lower window Exhibition in the Nook, State Library of WA, during 2013 NAIDOC week Heirisson Island, Matagarup: negotiation and conflict in photojournalism and technologies of spatial classification. I’m Here All The Time [detail] Visitors read notes left by other visitors on the participatory work I’m Not Going Anywhere… Map describing an individual’s narrative affixed to I’m Not Going Anywhere…
Tables Table 7.1. Table 7.2. Table 7.3. Table 7.4. Table 7.5. Table 7.6. Table 7.7. Table 7.8. Table 8.1. Table 8.2 Table 8.3 Table 8.4. Table 8.5. Table 8.6. Table 11.1.
Sustainability Hotspots Social concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore Cultural concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore Ecological concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore Economic concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore Adaptive pathways for the Busselton jetty and foreshore Concerns about impacts of sea level rise on Vasse Wonnerup wetlands Adaptive pathways for the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands Sustainable Development Goals Summary of resource inputs to the two settlements Summary of waste outputs from the two settlements Liveability of Ciliwung Riverbank Squatter Settlement and high-rise apartment settlement Questions that were developed as basis for data collection Sustainability of Arat Kilo Slum Settlement and Ginfle High Rise Condominium Loss of soil fertility from intensified crop cultivation, Bangladesh, 1967-68 to 1997-98
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Table 13.1. Table 13.2.
List of Figures and Tables
Assertive Multilateralism, UNPO Preferred Models of Globalisation and Global Governance Indian Ocean regional futures: a layered analysis
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This edited volume was developed in the wake of an Indian Ocean Futures conference held by the Australia-Asia-Pacific Institute (AAPI) and Curtin University in 2014. The editors are grateful for the ongoing support of AAPI and Curtin University in supporting the production of this book. In particular, we would like to thank AAPI’s Director Graham Seal for initiating this project and seeing it through, as well as the ongoing administrative support from Sue Summers. We would also like to thank Curtin University’s School of Media, Culture and Creative Arts and the School of Built Environment for providing the workspaces to see this project through. In undertaking such a transdisciplinary volume, involving a wide variety of data sources and methodologies, the editors have respected variations in spellings presented by the authors. For example, ‘Nyoongar’, ‘Noongar’ and ‘Nyungar’ have been used to represent the Aboriginal people of the Southwest of Western Australia. These variations in spelling reflect the different groups that authors may be working with or the resources being referred to. The editors have also respected the diverse and sometimes controversial views of authors in the interest of an open dialogue on Indian Ocean Futures. We must thank the dedication of the authors who have contributed to this volume as writers and readers and to the external readers who have contributed feedback to this book including Courtney Babb, Linda Briskman, Mike Burbridge, George Curry, Caroline Fleay, Rod Giblett, Roy Jones, Tod Jones, Daniel Keyes, Wiryono Raharjo, Dennis Rumley, Graham Seal, Laurajane Smith, Mohammad Swapan and Yirga Woldeyes. We would also like to thank the researchers who offered abstracts and chapters for publication, but whose work does not appear in this volume. Finally, we would like to thank Matt Storer for copyediting the chapters in this volume; also, Sam Baker of Cambridge Scholars Publishing for recognizing the potential in this edited volume and to Victoria Carruthers for acting as the publisher’s liaison for this project. Thor Kerr and John Stephens May 2016
PREFACE INDIAN OCEANS AND SEASCAPES: BLUE ECONOMIES AND COMMUNITIES OR RACE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA? TIMOTHY DOYLE1
The Indian Ocean Rim (IOR) is expected to contain nearly half the world’s population by 2050. In geopolitical terms, this ocean is moving away from identification as the “Ocean of the South” to the “Ocean of the Centre”, and the “Ocean of the Future” (Doyle and Seal 2015).2 Its core position in terms of global trade, industry, labour, environment and security is expected to increasingly shape the world in the 21st Century. It is clear that the issues which inspire this volume, including issues of community formation, environmental sustainability and securitisation – in all their numerous national and regional symbolic manifestations – will have profound implications in this vast geo-oceanic space in the next decade and beyond. The Indian Ocean region is loosely defined by the ocean’s water: it includes those countries, communities and cultures which are touched by these waters in both a physical and metaphysical sense, as well as nonlittoral states which are part of the broader pan-oceanic community due to trade routes and sea-lanes of communication, many of which have been forged for millennia, long before European colonisation. At the pan-regional level, there are ongoing attempts to create projects of identity-building in an extremely ambitious bid to celebrate an “Indian Ocean Oneness,” an Indian Ocean community. At the most formal level, the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), the leading Track One regional governance organisation with its head offices in Mauritius, is an active player in this pursuit. This aim is wildly idealistic but also inspiring, as the cultural diversity within this region is profound. Here, it is useful to compare the reality of IORA’s vision and that of the European Union (EU). Although there are numerous and obvious differences, with the EU
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far more advanced in both its development and its political and economic purposes than the more nascent IORA, it is critical to note that the EU’s community and identity have always been defined by “Christian” membership.3 Indeed, as a specific example, Turkey’s inability to gain membership in the EU – though rooted in numerous factors – is partly due to its lack of a clear, national Christian identity. On the other hand we have the reality of IORA, with its cacophony of cultural and religious voices, which are as diverse as anywhere experienced on the planet. This pursuit of a “oneness” is admirable, but only if it does not prioritise one set of narratives and, in its stead, is firmly based on an increased understanding, appreciation and celebration of shared but differentiated identities. As seen in a number of chapters in this volume, these notions of dominant and alternate identities, traditions and heritage are also hotly contested within individual states. In 2016, Indonesia took over the Chair of IORA from Australia. Under the auspices of the Center for Political Studies in the Indonesian Institute of Science (LIPI), Indonesia is hosting a series of initiatives which investigate these diverse identities, communities, histories and cultural intersections across the Rim.4 These stories have too often been subordinated by later, post-colonial themes and imaginations. This exercise reveals that the oceanic frame itself may be more remincient of Northern hemispherian imaginations and scales: a grand geopolitik driven by European imperial expansion over the past few hundred years. Alternatively, using a more multifarious framework informed by the seas may provide a less homogenising and totalising conceptual vehicle: seascapes and spheres of the sea may provide us with more understandings at the micro level, allowing us to comprehend identity, community and heritage projects at the sea-neighbourhood levels, within sub-regional frameworks which are more human and less expansionist in scale. Of course, it remains important to pursue these identity-building projects in all these hierarchies of imagination. The two remaining, broad themes informing this inter-disciplinary collection are sustainability and security. Again, under the auspices of IORA, these two concepts have been brought together in recent times within an agenda of a “Blue Economy” (BE). Broadly conceptualising oceans as “shared development spaces,” BE has emerged as a powerful and contested concept in many of those 26 countries which are part of the Indian Ocean Rim Association either as Members States or Dialogue Partners.5 The October 2014 IORA “Blue Economy” Declaration signalled a commitment to encourage greater collaboration in a range of priority
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areas. Such a vision was encapsulated by principles for the peaceful, productive and sustainable use of the Indian Ocean and its resources. As the Indian Ocean Region is defined by a “maritime regionalism,” Blue Economy seems ideally suited as a concept accentuating this maritime dimension of the region, in its pursuit of regional geo-economic, geo-environmental and geo-security goals. A focus on Blue Economy draws on the increasing awareness among Indian Ocean littoral states (and islands) of the economic potential of the maritime environment. This political and economic turn to the sea is evident in plans being formulated throughout the region to better govern and secure the Indian Ocean’s vast resources. This is a global phenomenon that has partly arisen in the wake of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and partly as a new construction of sea space. As Steinberg6 has argued the sea is no longer separate from land, no longer a two dimensional space configured in terms of shipping lane security. It is now understood as a “resource-rich but fragile space requiring rational management for sustainable development.” Understandably, this move requires research which will improve our technical knowledge of the seabed, underneath the seabed, the sea column and the behaviour of those whose livelihoods are dependent on the health of the ocean. As important, however, is research that will generate knowledge on the human relationships and aforementioned communities that are forming and evolving around the emerging political economy of ocean space. Important research must also focus upon the complex architecture of governance required to construct a regional Blue Economy. It will need to concentrate on exploring the multiple strata of governing actors – state and non-state – the networks of knowledge, and ethical parameters which undergird the possibility of a sustainable and secure region. At the same time, the population of Indian Ocean Rim Countries (IORCs) are in the process of dramatic growth and change, and by 2050, the Rim will include almost half of the planet’s people, fuelled most recently by the rapid geopolitical and geo-economic rise of Africa. The Indian Ocean Rim is of high economic, strategic and environmental significance. Half of the world’s trade already traverses through this region. In addition, the Rim possesses a variety of natural resources, both marine and terrestrial, which are vital for the wellbeing of its inhabitants, trade and environmental stability as well as political security. The scope for development of such resources – including food, livelihoods, tourism, minerals resources, bio-prospecting, the mining of seabed resources and “blue energy” – is being realised especially by coastal and island developing states who are at the forefront of “Blue Economy advocacy.”7
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Regionally, IORA, as well as many of its constituent Member States, acting alone and multi-laterally, have earnestly begun to place more emphasis on growing the Indian Ocean region in a sustainable, stable and inclusive manner. These emergent definitions of Blue Economy, however, are profoundly diverse, with each state understandably seeking to shape the narrative, in some part, for their own national interests. For small island developing states (SIDS), for example, the potential of the Blue Economy was explored in the Samoa Conference of September 2014,8 with the aim “to go beyond sustainability”.9 A Blue Economy Agenda is also being developed for India.10 Its Ocean Policy Statement straddles community, environmental and security matters – proposing the sustainable use of ocean resources to benefit its society.11 Not only did the current Prime Minister of India Mr Narendra Modi in 2014 reaffirm in his swearing-in speech the strategic necessity of developing a Blue Economy, but so too have the Governments of The United Arab Emirates and Sri Lanka. Furthermore, shared maritime and security challenges that threaten aforementioned sea lanes of communication and transportation in the Indian Ocean, including piracy, rising sea levels, drug trafficking and terrorism, are on South Asian BE agendas. Other Blue Economy issues identified by the IORA Council of Ministers include sustainable development of fisheries, judicious exploitation of minerals, harnessing renewable energy and encouraging coastal tourism, as a means to “stimulate growth and improve food and energy security” as a “common source of growth, innovation and job creation.”12 Indonesia, with high level meetings and conferences taking place for the last two or three years, also has a strong inclusive growth and poverty alleviation emphasis. Indonesia, therefore, along with Mauritius, Bangladesh and Seychelles are already in the process of establishing maritime economies. Bangladesh for instance has been active in establishing the Bay of Bengal Partnership for Blue Economy and has organised workshops advancing the proposal around the UN Blue Economy Initiative, involving India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Maldives, Myanmar, Thailand and Sri Lanka. The Seychelles delegation also re-emphasised the importance of defence and security integration and securing maritime “chokepoints” – such as the Malacca and Lombok straits that remain a top priority for Australia’s security cooperation with Indonesia – alongside the task of creating regional networks that link maritime operations and facilitate coordination among regional actors including coastguards, police, customs and judicial officials.
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With varied levels of success, Malaysia has also been developing a Blue Economy since the mid 1980s.13 While, on the western shores of the Indian Ocean, the South African Development Community has for a number of years been focussed on ocean governance. In addition there are several African-based intergovernmental and NGO actors operating on the maritime sphere – the South West Indian Ocean Fisheries Commission; the Maritime Organization of West and Central Africa (MOWCA) and the more regionally focussed Indian Ocean Tuna Commission (IOTC). Most importantly, the African Union (AU) in 2012 published its 2050 Africa’s Integrated Maritime Strategy, which documents the AU’s goal to establish a Blue Economy by prioritising the establishment of a Combined Exclusive Maritime Zone of Africa (AU 2012:11). As South Africa takes over the Chair of IORA in 2017, it has already prioritised Blue Economy as its rallying regional call. In the Australian case, the government established its ocean policy in 1998 to fulfil two aims: the development of rights associated with its exclusive economic zone and to ensure an ecologically sustainable approach to wealth creation in the maritime sphere.14 Australian enthusiasm for the construction of an Indian Ocean Rim maritime economy is building quickly upon these aims and policy foundation. As well as building links between environmental diplomacy, security, prosperity and peace “dividends,” the Australian Blue Economy agenda prioritises women’s empowerment and marine science. This latter approach clearly opens up a considerable space for a contribution from the humanities and social sciences. Despite these variations, Indian Ocean Rim Countries have come to the understanding that such diverse, profound and over-arching issues cannot be adequately sorted out in isolation or even bilaterally; that there needs to be a powerful commitment to both pan-regional and sub-regional solutions, governance structures and community-building projects. For example, IORA’s sub groups – the Indian Ocean Rim Business Forum and Indian Ocean Rim Academic Group – have recently been given much stronger directives to provide expert advice to member states. Secondly, there is an evolving understanding that a secure and safe maritime domain is likely to be a profitable and prosperous one. Critically, littoral states are increasingly exercising sovereign power over coastal sea space. This is being undertaken through Maritime Spatial Planning (MSP): the introduction of three-dimensional zoning techniques, configured largely through technical and scientific innovations (urgently required to build knowledge for planning to occur) that seek to rationalize and control the use of the sea. Far more than simply lines drawn on an abstract map, MSP
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is defined by its attempt to secure multiple uses for three-dimensional space – regulating human behaviour on the seabed, the sea column and on the surface of the sea. The prevailing rationale for regulating competition for maritime space is that individual economic sectors in the sea are interdependent. These sectors include, coastal tourism, offshore oil and gas, deep sea shipping, short sea shipping, yachting and marinas, passenger ferry services, cruise tourism, fisheries, inland waterway transport, coastal protection, offshore wind farms, monitoring and surveillance activities, blue biotechnology, desalination, aggregates mining, marine aquatic products, marine mineral mining and ocean renewable energies. They rely on common skills and shared infrastructure, such as ports and electricity distribution networks. Maes15 observed a growing tendency for fixed investments such as “wind and wave energy, cables and pipelines, coastal defence, port infrastructure, aquaculture and land extension” to be vying for space in the sea with older mobile activities such as “fisheries, shipping, air transport, military use, water recreation” etc. As Smith Maes et al16 argue, static interests are generally more concerned with the use of the seabed, while mobile uses, including pelagic fish and shipping routes, utilize the water column and sea surface. Maritime planning layers ocean space so that multiple functions can be assigned simultaneously to the seabed, the column and the surface area. In addition, a strong environmentalist rationale is attached to the liberal economic model that frames maritime planning and Blue Economies.17 The need for economic growth in a global recession has doubtlessly fuelled a sudden turn to the political economy of the sea. The 1982 UNCLOS framework came into force on 16 November 1996, has given rise to “a new world geopolitical configuration.”18 In effect, the Convention offered 36 coastal states of the Indian Ocean (20 IORA Member States) over 7,000,000 square kilometres of sea space to explore and exploit, with archipelago states such as Indonesia, Maldives, Mauritius and Seychelles gaining control over expanses of sea space that far exceed their total land area.19 A survey undertaken in 2013 found that 58.42 percent of world sea space is now under national jurisdiction.20 Perhaps realising the tension that this legislation gives rise to regarding the understanding of the sea as the common heritage of mankind and the sea as a new site of sovereign jurisdiction, Article 123 of UNCLOS has been used as a legal basis for regional-based maritime spatial planning by states bordering enclosed or semi-enclosed seas.21 The legislation provides that such states should cooperate and coordinate with the management, conservation, exploration and exploitation of the sea. In addition it states that such cooperation should occur through an appropriate regional organization.22
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The Indian Ocean is a site where common but differentiated responsibilities transcend national interests – where overfishing, illegal activities, food security, coastal development, climate change and sustainable development implies that structured international cooperation underpins all aspects of a maritime economy. At the pan-oceanic level, IORA, alongside its more francophone partner, the Indian Ocean Commission (IOC), and other more single issue-oriented regional bodies such as Indian Ocean Naval Symposia (IONS), the Indian Ocean Tuna Commission (IOTC), and the Indian Ocean Tourist Organisation (IOTO) have a critical role to play. But as this book makes abundantly clear, notions of sustainability and security also need to be understood, pursued and contested within smaller frames of seascapes; ones which acknowledge that valid communities already exist at the sub-regional level, and have existed over millennia, with diverse systems of knowledge. These knowledge systems have emerged from close interactions with social and natural space and phenomena. No doubt the more recent language of sustainable development which has emerged from the affluent world has much to offer future, more globalised generations; but it must also move to respect the generations of the past, rooted in a sense of place. Although a valid and often inspiring project, not all Indian Ocean Futures can be adequately provided at the level of grand oceanic dreaming which, to a large extent, mimics the politics of predominantly land-based nation-states, and re-projects these largely Westphalian holograms of geopolitics onto the more watery canvas of the global South. The dominant narrative of the global North, with its determined connectivity between geo-economics and geo-securities, too often provides a one-sizefits-all, neo-liberal economic model for regional development. As the necessarily inter-disciplinary contributions of this volume attest to, diverse and contested narratives of community, sustainability and security must be given voice (and listened to) across the pan-region and sub-regions – without this, and with the continued rapid insurgence and deployment of the homogenising narratives of neo-liberal economics and securitisation, Indian Ocean Futures may be found to be no more than a desperate race to the bottom of the sea, with wealth only accruing to large corporations with head offices in other oceanic spheres. But, in this period of grand oceanic dreaming, hopefully, a more positive outcome will be pursued during these relatively early, agendasetting days: an Indian Ocean region with a Blue Economy, delivering equitable and sustainable wealth to all its citizens who share, draw-upon and replenish the waters of these seas.
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Notes 1
This chapter draws upon research derived from a much larger project entitled ‘Building an Indian Ocean Region,’ DP120101166, Team Leader, Prof Timothy Doyle – which is funded by the Australian Research Council (ARC) Discovery Scheme for funding 2012-2016. 2 Doyle, T. and G. Seal. 2015. “Indian Ocean Futures: New Partnerships, Alliances, and Academic Diplomacy,” Journal of the Indian Ocean Region, 11 (1). 3 The author’s assertion. 4 Doyle, T. Personal Communication with A. Elisabeth at LIPI on 8 May 2016. 5 Doyle and Seal, “Indian Ocean Futures: New Partnerships, Alliances, and Academic Diplomacy”. 6 Steinberg, Philip. 1999. “The Maritime Mystique: Sustainable Development, Capital Mobility and Nostalgia in the World Ocean,” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 17 (4): 403. 7 Doyle, T. and M. Haward. 2009, “Regulatory and Market-based Instruments in the Governance of Fisheries and Marine Protected Areas in the Indian Ocean Region: In Search of Cooperative Governance,” In Fisheries Exploitation in the Indian Ocean: Threats and Opportunities edited by D. Rumley, S. Chaturvedi and V. Sakhuja, Singapore: ISEAS, pp. 298-324. 8 United Nations Economic Commission for Africa. 2014. “Are African small islands ready to embrace the opportunities?” Accessed 7 February 2015, http://www.uneca.org/.../blue-economy-are-african-small-islands-ready-embrace. 9 Pauli, G. 2011. “From deep ecology to the blue economy.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1af08PSlaIs. 10 Sakhuja, V. 2014. “Blue Economy: An Agenda for the Indian Government,” Center for International Maritime Security. Accessed 19 September, http://www.cimsec.org. 11 Suárez del Vivero, Juan, L. and Juan C. Rodríguez Mateos. 2010. “Ocean Governance in a Competitive World: The BRIC Countries as Emerging Powers – Building New Geopolitical Scenarios,” Marine Policy 34: 967-978. 12 Sakhuja, V. 2014. “Blue Economy: An Agenda for the Indian Government,” Center for International Maritime Security. Accessed 19 September, http://www.cimsec.org. 13 Saharuddin, A. H. 2001. “National Ocean Policy – New Opportunities for Malaysian Ocean Development,” Marine Policy, 25: 427-436. 14 Westcott, G. 2000. “The Development and Initial Implementation of Australia’s ‘Integrated and Comprehensive Oceans Policy,” Ocean and Coastal Management, 43 (10-11): 853-878. 15 Maes, Frank. 2008. “The International Legal Framework for Marine Spatial Planning,” Marine Policy, 32: 797. 16 Smith, Hance, D. Frank Maes, Tim A. Stojanovic and Rhoda C. Ballinger. 2011. “The Integration of Land and Marine Spatial Planning,” Journal of Coastal Conservation, 15: 291-303.
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17 Young, O. 2010. “Institutional Dynamics: Resilience, Vulnerability and Adaptation in Environmental and Resource Regimes,” Global Environmental Change, 20: 383. 18 Steinberg, “The Maritime Mystique: Sustainable Development, Capital Mobility and Nostalgia in the World Ocean”. 19 Forbes, Vivian Louis. 1995. The Maritime Boundaries of the Indian Ocean Region. Singapore: Singapore University Press. 20 Suárez-de-Vivero, Juan, L. 2013. “The Extended Continental Shelf: A Geographical Perspective of the Implementation of Article 76 of UNCLOS,” Ocean and Coastal Management, 73: 113-126. 21 Maes, Frank. 2008. “The International Legal Framework for Marine Spatial Planning,” Marine Policy, 32: 799. 22 Maes, Frank. 2008. “The International Legal Framework for Marine Spatial Planning,” Marine Policy, 32: 797-810.
INTRODUCTION THOR KERR AND JOHN STEPHENS
In October 2011, Indian Ocean piracy was addressed by the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) in Perth, on the ocean’s western edge. The city, normally a quiet backwater of international diplomacy, became the centre of a major security program to protect the many visiting foreign heads of government and their entourages. Parts of the city came under a form of martial law, restricting people’s movement and clearing itinerants out of the city centre. Armed security personnel were visible on roof tops at strategic points of the city and precautionary raids were conducted on the homes of known social activists. Mobile phones were confiscated and people were randomly stopped and searched in the street. Clearly the Australian government was averse to any incident that could disrupt the smooth running of the summit or humiliate its guests. Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard welcomed Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth to open the meeting which was attended by delegates of 54 member states, including nineteen African and eight Asian nations. It was intended that this CHOGM be one of the finest for host and international guests alike. However during CHOGM a crisis did erupt: not piracy or social activism, but a humiliating expression of corporate power that, nevertheless, disrupted and embarrassed authorities. Australia’s national airline, Qantas, was shut down. Qantas Managing Director Alan Joyce decided to ground the fleet and lock out staff in the face of potential industrial action and protest over the threat of outsourcing their operations to Asia. This unprecedented action stranded tens of thousands of Qantas passengers around the world. In Perth, Julia Gillard had the unenviable task of informing CHOGM delegates that many needed to make alternative travel arrangements. One third of the heads of delegations had been booked to fly out on Qantas. Many of the 700 accredited media personnel attending CHOGM were also stuck without flights.1 News media, of course, had a field day. This disconcerting threat to economic and political security occurred without warning despite the mobilisation of one of Australia’s largest
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peacetime security and intelligence operations. The brinkmanship of Alan Joyce revealed the impotence of states to completely control national security. If the state could not protect the economic security of the nation and the convenience of its most important guests from a determined managing director, how could it govern other forms of national security? The disruption of travel at CHOGM illustrates that the greatest security challenges often sit outside normalized concentrations and imaginings of power. This book opens the possibility of alternative discussions around contemporary forms of community, and their technologies of sustainability and conceptions of security. It raises awareness of threats and opportunities beyond popular notions of communities and their security. Indian Ocean Futures is prefaced by a discussion of the Indian Ocean by Timothy Doyle, who provides the book with a setting for the themes pursued in subsequent chapters. Doyle outlines the present environmental, cultural and political condition of the ocean, canvasing the diverse actors and organisations engaged in the care and exploitation of this vast body of water. He analyses the effects and tensions that a multitude of interests have on the ocean and the countries that lie on its rim. Doyle voices concern that the sustainability and security of the Indian Ocean Rim communities could be under threat from global homogenising narratives, drowning out the many voices that the chapters in this book examine. The first section begins a discussion of Indian Ocean community and identity in Perth with Fielding’s examination of how the largest independent school in Western Australia (WA) engages the wider challenges and opportunities of education in the Indian Ocean region. St Stephen’s School’s international education program focusses the development of meaningful partnerships with other educational institutions in the region. As a ‘global school’ it has partners and educational projects in South Africa, Mauritius, Malaysia and China as well as in the Kimberley region of WA. This facilitates a multilateral exchange of knowledge and understanding of the Indian Ocean community at a quite different and, perhaps, more positive level than is engendered by national and international politics. The school has engaged with the region through its student service learning program, the establishment of the Indian Ocean Rim Education Network and the development of a ‘distributed digital learning platform’ to export courses into the Indian Ocean Region and China. These help provide a framework for future citizens of the region to understand and engage with other communities and their environments.
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The complex relations of communities and environments of the Indian Ocean Rim are investigated in the four subsequent chapters, beginning in Iran with the politicization of its national heritage. Ali Mozaffari maintains that, since the Islamic Revolution, successive administrations have privileged Islamic history, tradition and culture, over all other aspects of identity. Despite this, there has been a counter movement to honour the more ancient Persian identity through a contemporary heritage activism that challenges state representations of community identity. This situation illustrates the tensions and conflicts that exist elsewhere where political interpretations of history and memory are challenged. Heritage is a very political process. Surrounded by the ancient trappings of the Sassanid and other Persian heritage, some Iranians strongly identify with a celebrated past and identity. But the nascent heritage movement in Iran is not just a simple nostalgic longing for a past. It can be – as Layli Rakhsha points out in her chapter – a longing for something that is connected to the future; an important quality of the Iranian debate. In many ways the ancient Persian provides an identity rooted in homeland that the imported Islamic identity does not provide. While there are divisions between the Persian and the Islamic driven by a search for identity, Mozaffari promotes the notion of ‘homeland’ as a meta-framework in which activists for recognition of pre Islamic heritage and the official Islamic identity might converse. Ali analyses the situation using fieldwork and primary sources and he elaborates on the characteristics that define and drive the nascent Iranian nationalist heritage movement. Heritage has always been suspicious of nostalgia as an emotion that can displace and contaminate history. However it can also be a positive force as Layli Rakhsha shows in her exploration of the effect of nostalgic emotion on the work of immigrant artists. She sees the concept of nostalgia as an emotion of displacement that is explored and exploited by migrant artists working in Australia. Nostalgia is a longing for past or place that no longer exists and is, for all intents and purposes, unobtainable. Nonetheless, Rakhsha contends that nostalgia may also be connected to a desired future; which is picked up again in Stephens’ chapter on the Guildford Hotel. In this context nostalgia is a driver of both an imagined past and an imagined future. Privileging nostalgia as a product of displacement, Rakhsha examines it as an emotional response to memory and experience that can manifest a sense of intimacy with home or a place that could be home. Through an examination of the work of two Australian immigrant artists, Rakhsha considers how identity and culture shape a context in which they work. These artists use particular symbolic objects from their heritage from other places on the Indian Ocean rim so
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that culture and homeland are transformed in the new homeland environments forming fresh emotional connections between past and future. Identity and culture are often overlaid with authorized discourses, which tend to suit established interests and ignore others. Kerr explores the production of authorized discourse in publications for the centenary commemoration of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) Gallipoli conflict. Kerr examines how colonial homeland is constructed in Anzac books describing the leaving and returning of troops over the Indian Ocean. This examination of text and images of the official story draws attention to not only conflicts between nations but also the officially untold stories of conflict within and across nations. The official story tends to naturalize the colonial settler as a local hero while ignoring the enduring presence of Aboriginal heroes at home and at war – reinforcing an aboriginal absence in land and heritage. The Anzac books Kerr examines offer the coast and ocean as symbolic forces in defining Anzac representation that normalises aboriginal absence in land ownership and development rights. In a similar vein, Stephens looks beyond an authorized view of heritage offered through state and established heritage organizations that can ignore minority heritages. Stephens relates how the Guildford Hotel – a small corner establishment in a suburban hamlet – has become the rallying point for arguments about how and why communities may go to great lengths to protect their heritage environment. The continuing decay of a firedamaged hotel galvanized community into action to save this place by forcing the authorities to act and the owners to restore the local architectural and cultural icon. Stephens argues that heritage can be seen as essentially intangible and the heritage of the Guildford Hotel viewed as a product of a cultural performance of protest. Heritage is what goes on at places rather than the tangible aspects of place itself. The conflict at the hotel site is used to explore how the performance of protest shapes the way that the hotel was viewed as a heritage place in contrast to its official representation through state sanctioned discourse. The second section of Indian Ocean Futures examines different perspectives on discourses, technologies and communities of sustainability. This discussion starts with a comparative case study of community knowledge systems on the Western Australian coast by Stocker and Shaw. Using sustainability as an overarching conceptual framework they argue that their case studies demonstrate a potential for combining explicit, tacit and implicit knowledge types into a fuller understanding that can support sustainable management strategies. Stocker
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and Shaw arrive at this conclusion by examining the knowledge of the Whadjuk Nyungar community and the fisher folk of the Abrolhos Island showing how each enact and establish different cultural models to largely scientific master narratives. The chapter demonstrates that analysis of these cultural knowledge systems can provide a fuller understanding of environmental sustainability issues beyond formal scientific knowledge. Similarly, Stocker, Burke, Petrova and Pokrant examine a process of constructing knowledge socially by bringing scientific knowledge together with other ways of knowing coastal places. The chapter contends that the goal of participatory sustainability can be accomplished through the use of a deliberative mapping technology, which they employ in the City of Busselton in southwest Western Australia. Busselton is particularly vulnerable to sea level rise, storm surges and other forms of inundation, a key concern for the city and its future. In this deliberative process, scientists were engaged with non scientists in a form of democratic decision making. The authors maintain that this transdisciplinary methodology has positive effects on the community’s level of knowledge, concern and intended cultural and economic behaviour around Indian Ocean coastal adaption. Teferi, Newman and Matan argue that more indicators should be considered in models that judge the success of sustainability initiatives. They offer the Extended Metabolism Model that incorporates liveability data alongside resource efficiency data and demonstrate how this model has been applied in slum communities in Jakarta, Indonesia, and in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Their model balances out the drive for efficiency with the need for regular social interactions and general happiness. The case studies in this chapter include application of the model in a previous study of people living in the Ciliwung River slum by Alma Arief and a nearby high-rise apartment block where slum dwellers had been relocated. The chapter continues with a more recent study of the model’s applicability to the Arat Kilo slum settlement compared to the Ginfle high rise condominium in Addis Ababa that also houses relocated slum dwellers. Their approach highlights the need for integrated policy making in slum upgrades that focus on the quality of life as well as other sustainability issues. The concept of sustainability accounting, measuring the ecological, social and economic performances of organizations, is taken up by Khan, Hossain and Marinova. This social practice of reconciling human impact on the environment is rooted in traditional Bangladeshi customs that can support sustainable practices around resource conservation, simple living and eco-spirituality. They argue that the principles of kindness, modesty
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and resilience embedded in Baul mystic philosophy correspond to three key sustainability aspects, namely economic, environmental and social which can unite ecology and economic activity to enhance sustainable production and distribution. A salient feature of this study is participant observation. Data has been gathered from direct experience of village life and the work of Baul philosophers. This chapter explores how the sustainability accounting approach can be applied to natural resource management in Bangladesh, one of the most densely populated as well as economically and environmentally vulnerable countries in the world. The third section of this volume canvasses changing landscapes and seascapes of the Indian Ocean in relation to the broad concerns of food, environmental and political security. This review begins with David Brewster analysing the international political landscapes of strategic interests in the Indian Ocean region. He poses questions about strategic influence in the region and India and China’s growing ambitions for control against the backdrop of United States military power and influence. This competition relies on the development of infrastructure as a way of gaining influence in key places on the Indian Ocean rim. Infrastructure links are being developed as Chinese sponsored pathways though Myanmar and Pakistan and Indian sponsored routes to Iran, Afghanistan and elsewhere. The chapter argues that despite China’s projects to link into the Indian Ocean region, it has large geostrategic vulnerabilities in the region. Brewster closes with a review of the implications of Chinese attempts to influence states such as Myanmar, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka and what it means for the strategic interests of both China and India as the protagonists for authority in the Indian Ocean region. Emphasising that Bangladesh has the capacity to alleviate poverty and malnourishment, Siddiqui, Hossain and Marinova argue that food security is stymied by corruption, pollution and degraded waterways. Much of this occurred through globalisation and during the Green Revolution of the 1970s which, amongst other things, encouraged expensive mechanisation and the use of chemicals in soils that eventually polluted waterways and wetlands. The rise of larger farms disenfranchised many small farmers, further damaging the country’s self-reliance. Restoring the health of waterways, they argue, is integral to returning food security to the nation because the waterways act as both natural resource and food distribution network. The authors point out that food security is achievable in Bangladesh through changing a mindset to more sustainable attitudes and practices, supporting a return to self-reliance, improving the health of waterways and ensuring modest consumption of food and other resources.
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Problems of security tend to depend on the construction of knowledge around them. Creagh, Kerr, Cox and Ryder challenge the construction of knowledge around the City of Perth’s drive to evict Nyoongar activists from an island within the city, which the state also recognizes as an Aboriginal heritage site. Frustrated by an inability to disrupt popular media representation criminalizing the activists, the authors set up a space in the state library that would encourage an alternative view of the issue. Through the process of designing, implementing and observing visitors to this space, the authors describe five tactics that enabled the space to solicit hospitality to other ways of knowing the city and the rights of Aboriginal people to live within it. These tactics could be employed in other projects to alter imaginings around security crises as well as offering alternative ways to understand them – opening up hospitality to other ways of understanding the world. This book concludes with a capstone chapter that offers hope for a better future through an innovative way that Indian Ocean communities could collectively find meaning and purpose in stories about their own futures. Using Causal Layered Analysis, Anita Sykes-Kelleher suggests a way that myths and legends of the Indian Ocean could be reimagined to generate new images of futures. Storytelling is central to how people understand their worlds and take action. Understanding how stories relate to societal transitions is a key to illustrating the relationship between stories in use today and likely future action. Sykes-Kelleher explores how mythologies of the Indian Ocean region may be mobilised to promote alternative futures for Indian Ocean communities. Transmedia storytelling could be introduced as a means of reinterpreting the ancient myths of the Indian Ocean region into stories intended to engage younger generations and open their minds to a range of possible shared regional futures. These futures may offer more local opportunities for engagement with the effects of globalisation. A framework using mythology to rethink issues of community, security and sustainability may have the beneficial effect of enabling a more just, peaceful and prosperous Indian Ocean future.
Notes 1
Orr, Aleisha. 2011. “Visiting PMs Stuck in Perth,” http://www.watoday.com.au/wa-news/visiting-pms-stuck-in-perth-201110301mq2m.html.
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
ADB AFL ANZAC ASEAN AU BE CBD CC CHOGM CLA CP EU FAO ICHHTO ICHO ICOMOS ICT IMF IOC IONS IOR IORA IORC IOREN IOTC IOTO LIPI MDG MOWCA MSP MSR NAIDOC
Asian Development Bank Australian Football League Australian and New Zealand Army Corps Association of Southeast Asian Nations African Union Blue Economy Central Business District Climate Change Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting Casual Layered Analysis Coastal Planning European Union Food and Agricultural Organization Iranian Cultural Heritage, Handicrafts and Tourism Organization Iranian Cultural Heritage Organisation International Council of Monuments and Sites Information Communications Technology International Monetary Fund Indian Ocean Commission Indian Ocean Naval Symposia Indian Ocean Rim Indian Ocean Rim Association Indian Ocean Rim Country Indian Ocean Rim Educational Network Indian Ocean Tuna Commission Indian Ocean Tourist Organisation Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia – Indonesian Institute of Science Millennium Development Goals Maritime Organisation of West and Central Africa Maritime Spatial Planning Maritime Silk Route National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee
Indian Ocean Futures: Communities, Sustainability and Security
NGO PLA SGD SGHAG SIDS SNH SLOC UN UNCLOS UNESCO UNPO WA WHO
Non-Governmental Organization People’s Liberation Army Sustainable Development Goal Save the Guildford Hotel Action Group Small Island Developing States Society for National Heritage Sea Lines of Communication United Nations United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organisation Western Australia World Health Organisation
xxix
NEGOTIATING HERITAGE AND IDENTITY
CHAPTER ONE ‘CHANGE THE WORLD ONE MIND AT A TIME’: A SCHOOL’S VISION OF AN INDIAN OCEAN RIM PARTNERSHIP MARK FIELDING
The globalisation phenomenon of the last twenty-five years has reshaped much of what we do and how we relate to others. Indeed, one scholar has gone as far as to proclaim that globalisation is “a most compelling phenomenon that touches every country and every individual.”1 Similarly, Rizvi and Lingard argue that the processes of globalisation “are reshaping most aspects of our sociality” by affecting the manner “in which we both interpret and imagine the possibilities of our lives.” 2 Globalisation is having an equally profound impact on education, with teachers refashioning the way they teach and schools looking to reposition themselves in an ever-shrinking global context. Globalisation is reframing the attributes communities expect from their school graduates with an expectation that well educated students will have high levels of intercultural competencies and cosmopolitanism, which allows them to be both effective global participants and feel at ease as they move through global spaces.3 This chapter will focus on how one school has responded to these new global imperatives. Viewed through the lens of interview and document data and with the benefit of insider reflexivity, the chapter will examine how St Stephen’s School, a large independent private school in the northern suburbs of Perth, Western Australia, has engaged with the processes of globalisation in a manner that supports the arguments proffered by a number of scholars,4 who believe that such engagements need to be viewed as a complex and dynamic interaction between global, national, regional and local forces described by some as “globalisation from below.” 5 This case study provides an example of simultaneous convergence and divergence globalisation processes as local school values interact with broad and powerful global drivers to create a unique school
‘Change the World One Mind at a Time’
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response. It also shines some light on the potential capacity of a local school initiative to facilitate international cooperation for educational improvement in the Indian Ocean Rim.
Conceptual Background: Globalisation and the Internationalisation of Education Although much has been written about the processes of globalisation in the last quarter of a century, there remains considerable debate about the precise meaning and manifestation of the concept, particularly as it affects education.6 This has led to the acceptance amongst many scholars of a degree of ambiguity and intangibility around the concept of globalisation whereby its dynamic, unpredictable and pervasive characteristics position it somewhere between “an empirical reality and a rhetorical myth.”7 In the context of this contestation, Rizvi and Lingard provide a useful conceptual framework for the purpose of this discussion.8 They argue that globalisation refers not only to changes in patterns of transnational economic activity but also the manner in which “contemporary political and cultural configurations have been reshaped by major advances in information technologies.”9 Additionally, they point out that beyond these empirical manifestations, globalisation also encompasses the social imaginary of how “we both interpret and imagine the possibilities of our lives.”10 In this context then, globalisation has produced: Entrenched and enduring patterns of worldwide interconnectedness; the stretching of social relations and activities across national spaces and regions, resulting in almost all communities becoming enmeshed in worldwide systems and networks of interaction.11
The position taken here concurs with that of Steger, that while globalisation has been a feature of human society for thousands of years, recent developments in technology and communication and changes to the geopolitical configuration of the world in the last quarter of the 20th century have facilitated an increase in the speed and intensity of globalisation to an extent where questions are being raised about its impact on the very nature of sovereign nation-states. 12 The contemporary conceptualisation of globalisation embraces the discourses of neoliberalism, the marketisation of global trade, worldwide flows of goods and services and the rise of transnational corporations, but also includes a multidimensional set of processes in which “images, sound bites, metaphors, myths, symbols, and spatial arrangements of globality were just as important as economic and technological dynamics.”13 This collective consciousness or
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Chapter One
social imaginary is a significant and powerful “subjective” recognition of an ever shrinking world whereby the “global” is the main frame of reference of human thought and action. As Steger puts it: Globalisation involves both the macrostructures of community and the microstructures of personhood. It extends deep into the core of the self and its dispositions, facilitating the creation of new identities nurtured by the intensifying relations between the individual and the globe.14
It is important to emphasise, however, that globalisation does not affect all communities around the world in the same manner.15 Globalisation is an inexorable and pervasive process but its manifestations vary according to the particular circumstances of the political, economic, social and cultural setting.16 As Rizvi and Lingard argue: The globalised world is fundamentally heterogeneous, unequal and conflictive, rather than integrated and seamless. It is experienced differently by different communities, and even individuals, and is sustained and created by people and institutions with widely different histories and political interests.17
Hence, while globalisation was initially conceived as a top down process, in more recent times its meaning has shifted to emphasise the importance of local contexts. This “globalisation from below” exemplifies the complex interplay between the global and local and underscores the importance of a study such as this that examines the particular engagement of a prominent local school. Globalisation is closely interconnected to the processes of internationalisation within schools, although the precise nature of this relationship is still not fully understood. 18 While globalisation refers to super-territorial or super-national processes, internationalisation relates to interactions across borders between two or more states. 19 Although the internationalisation of education is by no means an uncontested concept, there is a general view that it refers to “the process of integrating an international, intercultural or global dimension into the purpose, function or delivery of education.” 20 It has also given rise to a range of developments that include such things as student and teacher mobility, the teaching of intercultural competencies, international curricula, international testing and the development of international schools. Although there is a lack of consensus on both the meaning of globalisation and internationalisation as well as the relationship between the two concepts, there is no doubt that they are both complex and dynamic realities influencing the trajectories of schools in the 21st
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century. This relationship is also characterised by the discourse of “change and continuities in global-local interconnectedness.”21 This theme highlights the significant relationships between globalisation through the internationalisation of education and local educational systems and school responses. A number of scholars argue that globalisation and the internationalisation of education do not have a single trajectory, but rather are mediated at the local level to produce a particular “globalisation from below” response within schools.22 Hence, it is fundamental to not only contextualise this study on the internationalisation of education in this Australian case study school in the broader and highly influential domain of globalisation but to also consider, as a major theme, the manner in which local schools engage with globalization. In doing so, new meaning is brought to how globalisation is played out in school environments. Thus, while globalisation provides the general context for this study, the main focus for this research was drilling down to the experience of a particular school in what Marginson calls “situated case studies.”23 The intention was to reveal how a particular Australian school engaged with the processes of globalisation and the internationalisation of education.
St Stephen’s School’s Strategic Intent to “Change the World One Mind at a Time” Like globalisation, the internationalisation of education does not affect all school communities in the same manner. 24 Tensions between global imperatives and local identities compete amongst the many players in education, resulting in schools positioning themselves at various points along the internationalisation of education continuum.25 Hence, internationalisation, with its reconfiguration of social relationships, is necessitating “the need for rethinking anew about what constitutes community, interaction and learning in virtual times.”26 This development was manifest in the “change the world one mind at a time” strategic intent of St Stephen’s School. St Stephen’s School is a large independent school of the Uniting Church in the northern suburbs of Perth, Western Australia. The school opened in 1984 and has since grown to comprise three distinct campuses, an enrolment of approximately 2,700 students from kindergarten to year 12 and a staff of about 450. The MySchool website indicates a relatively affluent student population with 49 percent of the enrolment located in the top twenty-five percentile of the Index of Community Socio-Economic Advantage. 27 The school used the state mandated curriculum and other than its significant size and strong reputation for quality pastoral care, was unremarkable in most other ways.
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Chapter One
In 2011 a new Principal was appointed. Tony George came from a New South Wales evangelical Christian co-educational school but also brought with him ten years of experience in the corporate sector as well as experience as senior school head. His mandate, as described by the School Council, was to lead the school more like a chief executive officer than a traditional school principal and to reset the direction of the school as a more progressive and innovative hub for learning.28 A number of senior non-educational executive staff (such as in the areas of finance, media, architecture and corporate services) were appointed as part of a major restructure and a “device agnostic” information communications technology (ICT) policy was embedded into the learning milieu of the school to enhance digital learning opportunities. Shortly after his appointment as Principal, Tony George began to speak about the advantages of the school’s strategic position adjacent to the Indian Ocean Rim and the significant educational and service opportunities that arose from this location. He referred to Perth being the “only western city on the Indian Ocean Rim” and St Stephen’s being the largest independent school in that city. 29 This, combined with the school’s very strong community service ethos epitomised by its long-held motto “serve God, serve one another,” seemed to energise the new Principal into commencing a major shift in the direction of the school towards a more global posture with a particular focus on the region of the Indian Ocean Rim. With the School Council’s endorsement, Tony George reframed the school’s strategic plan to reflect this emphasis and funding was made available to “change the world one mind at a time.”30 All faculties within the school were required to contribute to this outcome and a Director of Global Programs was appointed soon after to navigate the process as it unfolded. Without compromising any of the more traditional core business of the school, Tony George was able to both steer and inspire this large institution towards a more global footing with a clear Indian Ocean regional focus. This provides clear evidence of the potential role and influence of the Australian independent school leader in both determining local school policy and navigating it into fruition. This goes some way to answering some of the questions being raised in recent research about the drivers of internationalisation in schools, how they may be different from universities and the role the school leader plays in such developments.31
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An Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Program St Stephen’s School’s strategic intent to “change the world one mind at a time” was firmly directed towards an Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Program. This program can be broadly divided into two different but complementary parts. First, the implementation of a student service learning travel program whereby students were given the opportunity to travel to an Indian Ocean Rim country or region to interact with its people and experience its culture while conducting service related tasks. The service tasks were an essential element of this program in that they were both an extension of the school’s motto, “serve God, serve one another,” and a way of helping students feel they were making some contribution to a less privileged society. Typically, the school partnered with a local aid and development agency and worked with the homeless, poor and disadvantaged in such projects as house construction and maintenance, the development of sustainable farming techniques, conducting sporting clinics in townships, repairing facilities and helping in special needs schools. Currently, students visit Malaysia, Cambodia and remote indigenous schools in the Kimberleys with other locations such as South Africa, Nepal, India and Tanzania currently being investigated for future trips. Some scholars have been very critical of these kinds of experiences, questioning whether the intercultural tours run by most schools are of any real value. Roman refers to the dangers of “intellectual tourism,”32 while Bates argues that “engagement with other cultures is often limited and determinedly instrumental and seldom more than superficially intercultural.” 33 However, Bates’ criticism is largely directed towards international schools existing “mainly in a sort of bubble, floating free from the local context.”34 The St Stephen’s model of international tours places students within overseas local communities, working and interacting directly with them on a service project. Although the tours are usually only two weeks long, most of the time was spent with local people. Indeed, on one occasion, students spent the night with a Cambodian family in their hut after buying food and cooking a meal for their hosts. Upon returning to Australia, most of these students reported an “amazing, life changing” experience that challenged their core values and questioned their previously held views and priorities.35 Many students reported how impactful the service tours were by describing the experience as: So much more than I expected it to be and I expected a lot. It wasn’t about helping; feeling like you’d made a difference; it was about growing,
8
Chapter One learning to love, to cherish and value those around you. It’s about learning who you are and who you want to be and then beginning that journey.36
Some returned incredulous at their friends insistence, for example, of owning the latest iPhone while others have even changed their career pathways to align them more with working in developing countries.37 The “change the world one mind at a time” strategy seemed far less about the world of the less privileged and more about the world inside the hearts and minds of St Stephen’s students. The second part of the Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Program involved “building education capacity” throughout the region.38 This part of the “change the world one mind at a time” strategy was all about developing partnerships with like-minded people and organisations with the aim of improving educational opportunities throughout the Indian Ocean Rim. The motive can be found in an amalgam of the school’s motto, “serve God, serve one another,” and the motivation and engagement that came from an institution like St Stephen’s applying its resources and expertise to improve learning in countries less fortunate than Australia. An example of this initiative was the formation of the Indian Ocean Rim Educational Network (IOREN) which originated out of a conference of key Church and education leaders from Mauritius, Madagascar, South Africa, Burundi, Tanzania, Francophone Africa and Australia, sponsored by and held at St Stephen’s School in November 2014. The aim of IOREN was to engage in a “shared vision of the welfare of the region though education” and to build partnerships with governments, universities and schools to improve education in the Indian Ocean region. 39 A specific focus also included working with multinational companies to help bring integrity to their corporate social responsibility spending in the region.40 IOREN has recently been encouraged to apply for “observer status” in the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA) of government foreign ministers and agencies and has been warmly received by educational leaders and the governments of the region. Under the tutelage of St Stephen’s School, IOREN conducted its inaugural international conference in Mauritius in November 2015. St Stephen’s School has also embarked on an ambitious plan to offer a “distributed learning model” into the region of the Indian Ocean Rim.41 This entailed the development of an online, in-country suite of vocational education and training courses focusing on certificates I-IV in business, ICT, languages and education. This initiative pivots around the development of a St Stephen’s School registered training organisation which, once accredited, will offer blended (online static, interactive and face-to-face) learning experiences supported by analytics feedback and
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assessment programs that allow for potential up-scaling to cater for thousands of overseas students. The school sees potential for this development to be both a new revenue source in countries like China, where preliminary approval has already occurred, as well as providing opportunities for people around the Indian Ocean Rim to gain international qualifications while remaining in their home countries by offering them at minimal cost. The school also intends to use this distributed learning platform to enhance teacher training skills throughout Indian Ocean Rim countries, believing that by addressing this important but in some cases deficient area of education, student outcomes can be improved. This “change the world one mind at a time” initiative has already gained some national attention from media sources interested in its boldness and originality.42
Motives and Rationale The reasons behind this significant redirection of the school were fourfold. First, globalisation was undoubtedly playing a role in the general shift towards a more overt pro-internationalisation stance by the school. Underpinning this factor was the view that St Stephen’s graduates needed to be interculturally competent in the more globalised world of the 21st century. This is supported by much of the academic literature reflected by Rizvi when he argues, “never before therefore has there been a greater need of intercultural understanding and communication.”43 The literature, however, is far less confident about the precise meaning of the concept. Indeed, a number of studies have argued there is a widespread uncertainty both at the tertiary level and at the school level of what constitutes intercultural competency and how it should be measured.44 Nevertheless, Byram proposed a definition of intercultural competency that has some resonance in the St Stephen’s context as, “knowledge of others; knowledge of self; skills to interpret and relate; skills to discover and/or to interact; valuing others’ values, beliefs, and behaviours; and relativising one’s self.”45 De Ruyter and Spiecker define a culturally competent person as someone who has “cultural knowledge about cultural artefacts and cultural practice as well as the disposition to value them on their own merits.” 46 Rizvi likens it to helping students come to terms with their “situatedness” in the world and points out that this is most effectively achieved through transcultural collaborations and seeking to understand local problems comparatively in relation to global processes.47 Although St Stephen’s School made no claim to a comprehensive program of intercultural competency within the school, it seems from the student
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Chapter One
testimony evidence in particular, that its student service learning tours to developing countries around the Indian Ocean Rim were providing a rich learning environment for this quality to prosper. Associated with intercultural competency was the desire to foster cosmopolitanism amongst St Stephen’s students. In many respects, cosmopolitanism is an outcome of globalisation and the intercultural competencies that students develop in that what can be defined broadly as “feeling at home in the world.”48 This “growing global consciousness”49 involves an “interest in, or engagement with, cultural diversity” 50 and although it is not necessarily a product of an internationalisation program per se, St Stephen’s students returning from overseas service learning tours reported an emerging sense of familiarity and friendship with the people (and particularly children) of the countries visited. Many spoke fondly about the “beautiful, happy children” they spent time with and some longed to return to visit them in the future. 51 While intercultural competencies equip students to operate effectively in foreign contexts, cosmopolitanism provides an additional affective layer of capability to allow them to flourish as well. The third reason behind the Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Program was the enactment of the school motto “serve God, serve one another,” articulated in the school vision statement as “change the world one mind at a time.” 52 Most schools (as well as businesses and institutions) have a motto and a vision statement. Many of them provide real guidance and direction to an organisation while others are mere platitudes. St Stephen’s School has been trying to live out its motto ever since its inception in 1984. For most of the last thirty years this has been made manifest in an effective care environment within the school and with local charities and churches in the school’s neighbourhood. As argued previously, the “change the world one mind at a time” program was a logical extension of this motto in the more globalised world of the 21st century. In the view of principal Tony George, this was as much about the fostering of identity amongst his students as anything else. 53 By participating in the service learning and “building educational capacity,” programs in the region of the Indian Ocean Rim, students and members of the school community became more aware of their place in the world and developed a stronger self-image. A fourth factor in play was the geographic proximity of the Indian Ocean Rim to the school situated on the west coast of Australia. Principal Tony George argued on many occasions that the school’s position made it strategically placed to take advantage of a region that contained two thirds of the world’s population (in the timezone of the region) in only one
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quarter of the world’s circumference. 54 The high growth and dynamic economies of China and India combined with the forecast growth of resource development in east Africa over the next twenty years suggested an economic powerhouse region in the making. To Tony George this presented a unique opportunity for St Stephen’s School–an opportunity to internationalise the school by positioning it as an enabler of learning and an educational services hub to the Indian Ocean region.55 In his view, by leveraging the scale of the school and implementing the distributed learning model already described, St Stephen’s School could be transformed into an international education provider to the region of the Indian Ocean Rim.
A “Global-Local Nexus?” In his seminal popular work, The World is Flat, Thomas Friedman argues that the globalised world of the 21st century is more interconnected than ever before and this new paradigm is having a profound impact on all aspects of society. 56 The “flat world” metaphor is emblematic of what Friedman calls the “death of distance,” and this closer more interconnected world is also having a significant impact on education. The corollary to Friedman’s “flat world” metaphor is the reframing of what was traditionally regional or national boundaries as more porous and fluid spaces.57 This implies that these traditional geographical spaces, including the concept of the place and space defined as a school, must now be viewed in a different context “nested within regional, international, transnational and global spaces.”58 St Stephen’s School is a case in point where this new school context is reframing the school’s strategic plan to emphasise the primacy of international engagement. This emerging strategic direction includes a purposeful and directed strategy to “change the world one mind at a time” in the theatre of the Indian Ocean Rim. While these global processes have clearly influenced the strategic direction of the school, so too has its unique ethos of “serve God, serve one another.” This long held and firmly established ethos has influenced the school’s response to the processes of globalisation by shaping its strategic plan to include a clear service and “building educational capacity” orientation to its global programs. These responses are clear examples of “globalisation from below” or, as Appadurai calls it, “vernacular globalisation,” whereby local schools, with clear and wellarticulated vision statements and independent purposeful leaders, mediate the top-down effects of globalisation to generate unique locally determined versions of engagement.59 The emphasis on the geographical
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Chapter One
region of the Indian Ocean Rim is arguably an even starker case in point as the locality of the school has shaped its response to the trans-national forces of globalisation. This “global-local nexus” conceptualisation of globalisation is an acknowledgement that complex local contexts can bring new meaning to how schools respond to global pressures and how, in the case of St Stephen’s School in Western Australia, this has contributed to the creation of their Indian Ocean Rim Partnership Program.
Notes
1 Sampatkumar, R. 2007. “Global Citizenship and the Role of Human Values.” In M. Hayden, J. Levy and J. Thompson, eds. The Sage Handbook of Research in International Education. London: Sage, 71. 2 Rizvi, F. and B. Lingard. 2010. Globalizing Education Policy. London: Routledge, 23. 3 Rizvi, F. 2007. “Internationalization of Curriculum: A Critical Perspective.” In M. Hayden, J. Levy and J. Thompson eds. The Sage Handbook of Research in International Education. London: Sage. 4 Vidovich, L. 2004. “Global-National-Local Dynamics in Policy Process: A Case of Quality policy in Higher Education.” British Journal of Sociology of Education 25 (3). Also see Bottery, M. 2006. “Education and Globalization: Redefining the Role of the Professional.” Educational Review 58 (1): 95-113. Also see Fielding, M. 2013. “No Sense of Borders?: The Internationalisation of Education in Australian Schooling.” Ed.D thesis, University of Western Australia. 5 Apple, M., J. Kenway, and M. Singh. eds. 2005. Globalizing Education. New York: Peter Lang. 6 Ledger, S, L. Vidovich, and T. O’Donoghue. 2014. Global to Local Curriculum Policy Processes: The Enactment of the International Baccalaureate in Remote Schools International Schools. Dordrecht: Springer. 7 Porter, P. and L. Vidovich. 2000. “Globalization and Higher Education Policy.” Educational Theory 50 (4): 449. 8 Rizvi and Lingard, Globalizing Education Policy. 9 Ibid, 22-23. 10 Ibid, 23. 11 Ibid, 24. 12 Steger, M. 2009. Globalization: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 13 Steger, M. 2008. The Rise of the Global Imaginary: Political Ideologies from the French Revolution to the Global War on Terror. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 11. 14 Ibid, 12. 15 Bottery, “Education and Globalization: Redefining the Role of the Professional”. 16 Glenn, J. (2007). Globalization: North-South Perspectives. London: Routledge.
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Rizvi and Lingard. 2010. Globalizing Education Policy, 24. Milton-Smith, M. 2008. “A Conversation on Globalisation and Digital Art.” Ph.D thesis, University of Western Australia. 19 Ledger, S, L. Vidovich, and T. O’Donoghue. 2014. Global to Local Curriculum Policy Processes: The Enactment of the International Baccalaureate in Remote Schools International Schools. Dordrecht: Springer. 20 Knight, J. 2003. “Updated internationalisation Definition.” International Higher Education 33: 2-3. 21 Brown, L. 2005. “Virtual Spaces for Innovative Pedagogical Actions: Education, Technology and Globalization.” In M. Apple, J, Kenway and M. Singh. eds. Globalizing Education. New York: Peter Lang, 173. 22 Vidovich, L. 2004. “Global-National-Local Dynamics in Policy Process: A Case of Quality policy in Higher Education.” British Journal of Sociology of Education 25 (3) Also see Bottery, “Education and globalization: Redefining the Role of the Professional”. Also see Edwards, R. and R. Usher, 2008. Globalisation and Pedagogy. 2nd ed. Oxford: Routledge. Spring, J. 2009. Globalization of Education: An Introduction. New York: Routledge. 23 Marginson, S. 2007. “Global Position and Position Taking: The Case of Australia.” Journal of Studies in International Education 11 (1): 8. 24 Rizvi and Lingard, Globalizing Education Policy. 25 Bottery, “Education and Globalization: Redefining the Role of the Professional”. 26 Edwards and Usher, Globalisation and Pedagogy. Also see Spring, Globalization of Education: An Introduction. 27 MySchool. 2014. Australian curriculum assessment and reporting authority. Accessed 18 October www.myschool.edu.au. 28 Handley, B. 2014. Interview of Brian Handley, interview by Mark Fielding, November 14, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 29 George, T. 2014. Interview of Tony George, interview by Mark Fielding, October 29 and December 5, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 30 St Stephen’s School. 2012. Strategic Plan 2012-14. Perth, Western Australia: St Stephen’s School. 31 Yemini, M. 2012. “Internationalization Assessment in Schools: Theoretical Contributions and Practical Implications.” Journal of Research in International Education 11 (2): 152-164. 32 Roman, L. 2003. “Education and the Contested Meanings of ‘Global Citizenship’.” Journal of Educational Change 4 (3): 272. 33 Bates, R. 2011. “Introduction.” In Schooling Internationally: Globalisation, Internationalisation and the Future for International Schools, edited by R. Bates. London: Routledge, 6. 34 Ibid, 7. 35 Student A. 2014. Interview of student A, interview by Mark Fielding, November 25, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 36 Student C. 2014. Interview of student C, interview by Mark Fielding, November 25, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 37 Student A. 2014. Interview. 18
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St Stephen’s School. 2012. Strategic Plan 2012-14. Indian Ocean Rim Education Network. 2015. IOREN. Accessed April 6, http://www.ioren.education. 40 Ibid. 41 St Stephen’s School. 2012. Strategic Plan 2012-14. 42 Grigg, A. 2015. “Schools Target China’s 53b Market.” The Australian Financial Review, March 30. Also see Wearne, F. 2015. “Into the Middle Kingdom.” The West Australian, March 14. 43 Rizvi, “Internationalization of curriculum: A Critical Perspective”, 402. 44 Deardorff, D. K. 2006. “Identification and Assessment of Intercultural Competence as a Student Outcome of Internationalization.” Journal of Studies in International Education 10 (3): 241-266. Also see Rathje, S. 2007. “Intercultural Competence: The Status and Future of a Controversial concept.” Language and Intercultural Communication 7 (4): 254-266. Also see Soria, K. and J. Troisi. 2014. “Internationalization at Home Alternatives to Study Abroad: Implications for Students’ Development of Global, International, and Intercultural Competencies.” Journal of Studies in International Education 18 (3): 261-280. 45 Quoted in Deardorff, D. K. 2006. “Identification and Assessment of Intercultural Competence as a Student Outcome of Internationalization,” 247. 46 De Ruyter, D. and B. Spiecker. 2008. “The World Citizen Travels with a Different View.” In M. Peters, A. Britton and H. Blee. eds. Global Citizenship Education. Rotterdam: Sense, 355. 47 Rizvi, “Internationalization of curriculum: A critical perspective,” 399. 48 Gunesch, K. 2007. “International Education’s Internationalism: Inspirations from Cosmopolitanism.” In M. Hayden, J. Levy and J. Thompson eds. The Sage Handbook of Research in International Education. London: Sage, 92. 49 Matthews, J. 2002. “International Education and Internationalisation are not the Same as Globalisation: Emerging Issues for Secondary Schools.” Journal of Studies in International Education 6 (4): 380. 50 Gunesch, “International Education’s Internationalism: Inspirations from Cosmopolitanism,” 92. 51 Student B. 2014. Interview of student B, interview by Mark Fielding, November 25, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 52 St Stephen’s School. 2012. Strategic Plan 2012-14. 53 George, T. 2014. Interview of Tony George, interview by Mark Fielding, October 29 and December 5, notes, St Stephen’s School, Perth, Western Australia. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. 56 Friedman, T. 2005. The World is Flat: A Brief History of the Globalized World in the 21th Century. London: Penguin. 57 Castells, M. 2000. The Rise of the Network Society. Oxford: Blackwell. 58 Rizvi and Lingard. 2010. Globalizing Education Policy, 67. 59 Appadurai, A. 1996. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis: Minneapolis University Press. 39
CHAPTER TWO OPEN LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT ELECT: AN EXAMPLE OF HERITAGE ACTIVISM THROUGH THE MEDIA IN IRAN1 ALI MOZAFFARI
This chapter examines Iranian heritage activism, focussing on an example of activists’ use of mass media to bring public focus to heritage as a contested field and persuade authorities to take action. Studies of growing and increasingly vocal heritage activism in Iran are scarce, although occasionally the implications of their ideas are discussed in passing in fields such as politics and international relations.2 This paper reinforces and elaborates on some of the findings of a previous study on the terrain of heritage activism in Iran,3 providing an example of activism’s manifestation in mass media. It focuses on the analysis of an open letter to President-elect Seyyed Hassan Rouhani, which was drafted in 2013 by heritage activists and signed by more than 60 heritage NGOs. To complement this examination, I also draw on field interviews (see below) and other contextual information. Considered in its social context and history, I argue that heritage activism is a specific instance of social movements in which the cultural framing of activism and the changing structure of political opportunities largely provided by the state play a decisive part. This is particularly apparent in relation to reframing the perceptions of collective identity and homeland of both the state and the activists. By social movement, I mean “sustained, intentional efforts to foster or retard broad legal and social changes, primarily outside institutional channels endorsed by authorities.”4 Movements seem to have a number of broad characteristics. First, they involve collectives and a level of organisation.5 Second, they present a challenge to the existing institutional or cultural authority.6 Third, they include actors who claim a shared identity.7 Fourth, there is sustained activism through time,8 meaning they
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are not one-off events. Fifth, they have a measure of public visibility, which may be expressed through protest and in various media outlets. Sixth, they use space unconventionally.9 Avoiding long theories, collective identity defines individual members of the group as similar to one another and distinct to other groups. In the case of activists, it pertains to their particular interpretation of collective Iranian identity. The contextual information presented here is the result of fieldwork carried out in the second half of 2013, primarily in the capital Tehran, where many active heritage NGOs are located. The city of Shiraz was also selected as a provincial example, particularly due to its proximity to significant pre-Islamic heritage sites such as Persepolis and Pasargadae. The “informants” were chosen from among activists in these regions. The open letter was drafted by Alireza Afshari and consists of a full two-page version together with a brief, one-page executive summary.10 Afshari is a forerunner and prominent activist in the field of heritage, a journalist known in heritage circles for his organisational capacity and as one of the founders of the Afraz society (Iranic Territories Cultural Society). I contextualise the analysis of the letter in relation to my encounters with him and his other texts, mostly available on his blog, khordegiri.11 This letter is a valuable indicator of heritage activism and the existence of a movement because it shows their public agenda. It is a clear attempt to influence the state conception and management of heritage and is signed by a sizeable group of heritage activists. It also demonstrates that activists in Iran, like activists the world over, characteristically utilise the media to gain representation and recognition.12 However, Iranian activists cannot utilise the media in the same way as activists in other countries due to the top-down relationship between the Iranian state and the media. Instead they utilise it as “a key space wherein the debates about the nature of political participation and the contours of the public sphere can be articulated.”13 Having said this, various media outlets are more or less aligned with different (at times conflicting) state factions. As discussed later, this allows some room for expression of views as was the case in this letter. Personal connections of the author, Afshari, were also a factor in the letter’s circulation in the media. Today’s heritage activism has to be understood in the context of stateheritage relationships beginning in twentieth century Iran. Because of this, the following section of this chapter is dedicated to providing an overview of that relationship and the making of heritage in that country. Within this context, a close reading of some parts of the open letter help to identify a number of common characteristics of heritage movements in Iran in relation to relevant aspects of social movement theory.
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An Overview of Heritage-state Relations in Iran My objective is not to dwell on theories of heritage, but rather to examine evidence of heritage activism. I subscribe to Tunbridge and Ashworth’s definition of heritage as “a contemporary product shaped from history.” 14 This ostensibly simple definition captures the elusive nature of heritage and identifies its critical relationship to temporality: through heritage, pastfuture trajectories are constantly being negotiated in the present. Particularly in Asian countries, this “double gaze” locates heritage at the centre of development and modernisation plans for the future or, in other words, of the nation-building project.15 In Iran at least, heritage is an area above all controlled by different arms of the state, which heavily influence the various interpretative frames of nationhood, collective identity and culture. The Iranian state thus plays a defining role in shaping the practices and processes of heritage. The role of the state – itself composed of various wings of occasionally conflicting entities and actors – is even stronger in a country such as Iran where the political system is relatively closed, and different arms of the state can utilise their resources towards controlling and contracting the public sphere. From this perspective, state influence shapes the field of heritage and controls whatever activism may occur. Historically, this influence relates to state-sanctioned perceptions of homeland and stateinitiated revisions of its sanctioned identity which are then signified and communicated through heritage. I have argued elsewhere that it is possible to examine the history of Iran over the past two hundred years in terms of shifts in the perceptions of homeland and the associated sanctioned versions of its identity.16 This is particularly important in understanding the various positions espoused by successive states (monarchical and republican) which directly relate to the transformations in the meanings and scope of heritage. In modern Iran,17 there have been three stages in the framing of homeland, all corresponding with transformations in approaches to heritage. The first stage began with the inception of the modern nationstate in the 1900s (the significant period being the Constitutional Revolution of 1905-07) when there was an attempt to resurrect a national homeland by drawing on various traditions and acknowledging and occasionally preferencing pre-Islamic history and identity. The second stage arrived with the advent of the Islamic Revolution of 1979 and lasted to the early 1990s during which “homeland” was reframed in Islamist terms and excluded pre-Islamic identity. The third stage commenced as a result of state transformations including factionalism in the early to mid-
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1990s but has been articulated fully since 1997.18 These transformations have continued up to the present although there have been fluctuations in attitudes depending on the balance of political forces at any given time. The first organised and purposive move for heritage recognition was through the Society for National Heritage (SNH, est. 1922 and presently renamed the Society for Heritage and National Treasures) which originated in the pre-revolution period.19 As the name suggests, heritage played a central role in the formation and agenda of the society. Its founders, who were some of the most prominent male members of the social and political elite of their time, were among the instigators and propellers of Iran’s modernisation. They were driven by patriotic sentiments and guided by various versions of concurrent nationalist ideologies. It is possible to summarise their objectives as: retaining Iranian sovereignty; reviving past (especially pre-Islamic) glories; locating the appropriate place of the country in a modern world of nation-states; overcoming what they saw as the country’s backward conditions; and countering the traditional and religiously dominant social forces and ideas which were, in their minds, the cause of that backwardness. To them, the good Iranian character was dormant but could be evidenced through heritage; it was awaiting renewal.20 Their ideas and programs influenced the formation of a number of modernising political parties as well as state cultural and heritage policies and the relevant institutions for their implementation.21 For example, the constitution of the SNH provisioned the establishment of libraries and museums, the restoration of handicrafts, the preservation of monuments and support for public education.22 Clearly, a broad understanding of heritage was instrumental in the framing of their approach and the solidifying of their ideals into tangible programs. Although it was linked to the state through the official positions of its members, the SNH was not simply an extension of the state. Officially, it remained independent of the state and the possible pressures exerted by the socio-economic origins and affiliations of its members.23 But, perhaps because of their privileged socio-political positions, their vision gradually evolved into establishment policies and they found a broader constituency for their ideas among the slowly growing educated, and thus ascending, sector of society. Many of their ideals, such as the preservation of handicrafts and the conservation and preservation of monuments, are still part of the mandate of the heritage establishment and are accepted by independent activists and state entities/actors alike. By the 1970s, many of SNH’s ideals formed the mainstream establishment agenda in heritage.
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A second stage came with the advent of the Islamic Revolution in 1979. The Iranian homeland was reframed in terms of an Islamist ideology which itself consisted of a number of contradictory strands.24 There was a total shift in political structure and many of the cultural policies of the deposed monarchic state were reversed. The new policies focussed on a narrow and ideological interpretation of Islamic culture and heritage. A major task of the Revolutionary establishment was to construct a new Iranian identity.25 This was also apparent in introducing a new heritage discourse intended to control emotions and engagements with heritage and the past, which then actively worked toward the legitimation of certain hegemonic identities.26 It focussed narrowly on Islamic sites and on social and intangible practices related to religion. In light of this new dominant ideology, heritage and its place in society was reframed to embrace the Islamic period at the expense of the pre-Islamic period.27 Concurrently, the Iranian Cultural Heritage Organisation (ICHO) was established. In the early days of the revolution, much of Iran’s pre-Islamic heritage was under threat of demolition by ideological zealots and profiteers.28 The argument for preserving pre-Islamic heritage was made by the Islamist founder and Head of ICHTO, Mehdi Hodjat, on the grounds that it caused no harm and could serve as symbolic confirmation that tyranny will not last. Additionally, the revolution was immediately followed by the IranIraq war (1980-88) during which the state security system heavily restricted the public sphere and various forms of political expression. Meanwhile, in its attempt to reforge Iranian identity in line with Islamist ideology,29 the state promoted and controlled sanctioned versions of Islamic heritage in both tangible and intangible forms. Other intangible practices such as the Iranian New Year (Nowrouz) and associated celebrations were highly contested and only begrudgingly accepted by the state due to their popular base.30 In this politically charged atmosphere there was little room, or indeed popular interest, for heritage activism. The third stage followed the end of the war and commenced during a period of reconstruction (1989-97) which included the relatively rapid opening up of the economic sphere accompanied by a slight relaxation of pressures on the public sphere.31 In tandem with this slight economic liberalisation, there was a very gradual redefinition of both homeland and heritage. In this period, the factional rifts within the ruling elite of the state also began to appear in the public sphere,32 opening some space for the public – especially the youth – to act in support of the various factions.33 Programs pertaining to cultural heritage with an economic slant were articulated in the country’s first Five-Year Development Plan after the revolution (1989-94). Article 3 of the strategic plan considers public
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instruction and education with a specific focus on youth. Headings 3-15 and 3-16 call for: 3-15- improvement and development of domestic and international tourism with the intention to exchange experience and knowledge and to introduce the heritage of Islam and Iran’s culture and civilization and to assist in the elevation of the national and Islamic unity and solidarity through the support, encouragement and organisation of public participation and attraction and channelling of private investments in this regard. 3-16- improvement, development, protection and reuse and introduction of the country’s cultural heritage and artefacts and cultural values of the Islamic Revolution and the Sacred Defence (war)34
This plan coincided with the presidential terms of Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani (1989-97), the first head of government to officially visit a preIslamic site, the World Heritage site of Persepolis, and to leave positive comments acknowledging its heritage in the Visitor’s Book.35 This set a trend that suggested a subtle shift in state sanctioned notions of collective identity, a reframing of the homeland concept and a corresponding shift in political opportunities for entering the heritage debate and therefore the public sphere. Since the dawn of the revolution, the state had pursued a cultural agenda of inculcating and engaging the young which was intensified with direct implications for heritage activism during the next administration, Mohammad Khatami’s so-called reformist period (1997-2005). As a result of growing factionalism within the state and even inside the reformist camp, there was a further expansion of the public sphere as different factions competed to expand their popular bases, which led to an expansion in the political opportunities available to various kinds of activism.36 Young people were encouraged to be politically active and culture, arts and heritage issues were elevated on the agenda as Khatami “allowed the space for political and social liberalization.”37 This also involved a redefinition of national identity such that the unhelpful dichotomy between pre-Islamic and Islamic identity and history was downplayed; the two would no longer be cast as mutually exclusive.38 Notes left in the Persepolis Visitor Book by Khatami and his Minister of Oil, Zangeneh serve as useful illustrative examples and were potential indicators of a shift in official culture and thus in the framing of homeland.39 Zangeneh on a visit on the first day of the New Year (21 March 1997) wrote: “I have visited Persepolis, this ancient heritage of Iranians a few times. What is always interesting and a source of pride in this complex is the
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civilization, capability, order along with art of Iranians who were once unique in their times and the Achaemenid period is one of those times. No doubt the rich Iranian culture … is a great support which alongside … Islam can build a new civilization in the modern world …”
Later, Khatami wrote (14 April 2000): “… ancient relics are in fact a nation and people’s identity cards … relying on the past and the sense of historic identity are the precursors to the efforts for constructing a better today and tomorrow. No doubt Persepolis and tens of other important historic monuments that are a reminder of the days of Iranian power and wealth are a significant treasure that must be preserved … and as much as possible researched and presented.”40
This redefinition of homeland as at once Islamic and pre-Islamic (with the former taking precedence over the latter) allowed non-Islamist citizens to enter debates over national identity, history and the significance of Iranian heritage. After Khatami, and during Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s terms in office, a similar composite vision of Iran would continue despite their strong differences over politics and other issues.41
Homeland as Frame Two things are apparent from this historical account. First, that the relatively closed state system in Iran shapes the framework in which political processes of heritage activism operate because it controls political structures, configurations of power and interaction contexts. At their core, these concern “political opportunity structures which influence the choice of protest strategies and the impact of social movements on their environment.”42 Second, conceptions of national identity figure prominently in the formation of the nation’s official discourse and the emergence of political opportunities to expand the public sphere. In this situation ‘homeland’, which emplaces various strands of collective identity and culture, refers to elements of territory that include nature, heritage and tradition and constitutes a common theme for both the state and people. In the jargon of social movements, homeland is a master frame, a concept that is “open and inclusive, flexibly oriented to a wide variety of meanings and audiences.”43 Within this master frame there may be a number of smaller frames for collective action. According to Snow, frames “focus attention by punctuating or specifying” what is relevant and may also “perform a transformative function in the sense of altering the meaning of the object(s) of attention and their relationship to the actor(s).”44
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This master frame has been developed and transformed as a result of various events and by various actors. While the war with Iraq was an existential threat to the state and people alike, the impracticality of an Islamist ideology exclusive of the idea of nation-state was being realised by state actors.45 They gradually reinterpreted homeland to include preIslamic identity and history as a means to reach “the hearts and minds of vast numbers of people.”46 Despite huge political efforts on the part of the Islamic republic to transform and cultivate a certain sanctioned Islamic identity, Iranian society remains multi-vocal and difficult to categorise with regard to its attitudes towards the past and collective identity. Although the state reframed the notion of homeland, its interpretation would remain ambiguous and contestable: for some activists the same frame would become a rationale for mobilization in their challenge against state hegemony over identity and heritage. Homeland would be constantly renegotiated between activists and state actors. The open letter represents one instance of this renegotiation.
Letter from Cultural NGOs to Dr Hassan Rouhani, President-elect (2 July 2013): an Analysis Many of the signatories of this letter began their activism in the late 1990s, during Khatami’s first term (1997-2001). They participated in the youth agenda put forward by Khatami and took advantage of the state’s reframing of homeland to express their patriotic sentiments in public and pursue their related interests in a more organised fashion. Ahmadinejad’s administration (2005-2013) expressed a different attitude toward NGOs in general and heritage activism in particular. As the state’s factional rifts became ever more public during Ahmadinejad’s term and as international tensions rose, the signatories became vocal critics of the government’s heritage policies and organised various activities, most significantly in relation to protecting examples of iconic pre-Islamic heritage. Their activities included small but well publicised demonstrations and symbolic actions such as gathering around the tomb of Cyrus the Great to protest a nearby dam construction and the writing of open letters to authorities including the Supreme Leader, Khamenei.47, 48 Consequently, many NGOs were deregistered and a few prominent activists were harassed or detained on charges that usually related to national security. Some activists endured this period hoping to regain some space for their political expression and activism after Ahmadinejad’s term. Many heritage activists decided to vote for Ahmadinejad’s opposing faction represented by Rouhani.
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Just over two weeks after the 14 June 2013 presidential election, which led to the victory of Rouhani, a letter dated 2 July was sent on behalf of over sixty heritage NGOs to the office of the president-elect. Concurrently, it was published in a number of prominent daily newspapers. The letter outlined four main “requests on behalf of the country’s cultural NGOs” in the form of an executive summary to which a longer version was attached. Broadly speaking, the requests concerned the circumstances surrounding NGOs, the examination of school curricula in history, administrative reforms in the Iranian Cultural Heritage, Handicrafts and Tourism Organization (ICHHTO), and recognising the significance of environmental protection. However, a closer reading reveals that this letter contained specific ideological, logistical, strategic and expedient practical measures and was therefore indicative of a desire for a more comprehensive movement plan to allow support and space for their activities. Such a plan is concurrently being formed by and is engaging with the political opportunities made available through the presidential elections. Given the limitation of space, I elaborate on this through a closer reading of parts of the letter, and relate the points that it contains to characteristics common to Iranian heritage movements. I specifically focus on the aspects of identity and ideology.
Contesting Ideology and Collective Identity The letter demonstrates that many activists are motivated by frustration and, perhaps, outrage at the state’s handling of history and heritage as well as the Islamist cultural policies that emphasise Islam and the Shiite religion over and above a broader Iranian identity. It reflects a consensus among the signatories over the necessity to define a shared national identity and homeland that is inclusive of various ethnicities, and which acknowledges and emphasises the territorial integrity of the nation-state while recognising the deeper historico-cultural connections between contemporary Iran and the surrounding region: “The common history and culture of the Iranian nation, which includes all various branches and ethnicities within Iran, is one of the most important factors in national identity and cohesion among Iranians, the importance of which has been neglected in recent years [and] unfortunately its ominous consequences … are apparent in efforts [of the enemies of Iran] in separating various Iranian ethnicities.”49
From this one may assume that the signatories define national identity in the context of those surrounding nations with common historico-cultural
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roots. This perception suggests that the activists believe in an Iranian zone of cultural influence that transcends the geopolitical boundaries of the country. This can be traced back to some of the intellectual strands expressed by the preceding (pre-1979) generations. In mentioning “those who have been separated”, activists seem to subscribe to the Civilizational (or Cultural) Domains thesis articulated by Changiz Pahlavan and discussed after the Revolution in the intellectual journal, Kyan (2 April 1993). According to this thesis, the world may be seen in terms of civilizational domains each consisting of a number of cultural, ethnic, religious and national subsets: the Arabic domain, the Buddhist domain and so on. It subscribes to a kind of “civilizational democracy” which accepts and respects the “existence of different civilizations” and rejects a “civilizational imperialism” which seeks to subsume other civilizations.50 Cultural inclusion as opposed to territorial annexation, religious tolerance and a rejection of racism form the backbone of this thesis. This can be seen as being at once a rejection of the aggressive pan-ideologies, such as pan-Arab nationalism that portrayed Islam as an ethnic (Arabic) reserve and the hegemonist attributes of the Iranian state. According to Pahlavan, the Persian civilizational domain started from within China and contained Central Asia and a significant part of the subcontinent. It then crossed through Iran’s geopolitical borders and encompassed the Persian Gulf and ultimately reached the Black Sea through the Caucasus (Figure 2.1).
Figure 2.1. Extent of Persian Civilizational Domain (marked in arrows) according to Pahlavan.51
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This belief in a shared culture and a civilizational domain that surrounds homeland appears to form a common ground for activists who come from a diverse range of political and intellectual affiliations and backgrounds but seems to exclude the hardliner Islamists. They implore the new administration-in-waiting to show due regard for this common history and culture which they see as exemplified in “the personalities (characters) who make up this” culture (one is particularly reminded of historic and legendary characters such as Cyrus the Great) and the “natural and cultural monuments (heritage) of the country.”52 They also call for the preservation of “the totality” of history and culture “of the people of Iran”, which is a direct critique of the discriminatory position of powerful factions within the state in the past and present.53 By avoiding a pre-Islamic-Islamic dichotomy, the letter furthers the reframing of homeland that was begun by factions within the state in the late 1990s. However, it makes a point of characterising the country as Iranian-Islamic, the reverse of the usual official characterization, to illustrate their preferred description of their homeland. They also express discontentment as the letter charges the state’s educational policies with being a contributory factor to social and national disintegration due to an imbalanced emphasis on Islamic history and identity.54 This is not a rejection of religion – many activists consider themselves Muslims – but a repositioning of the state toward secularism and a distanciation from current official expressions of religious jargon and sentiments in the service of state ideology. This is evident not only in their takes on history and heritage (Items 2 and 3) but also through direct linguistic cues such as replacing the official opening phrase “in the name of god” with a simple “greetings!” The same passage conveys a sense of alarm at the state’s management of ethnic relations by calling for “a more comprehensive understanding of Iranian ethnicities” and their connectedness to one another. This and other information gathered in the field suggest that the activists have an inclusive approach to religious and ethnic diversity and local traditions, since they come from various ethnic backgrounds, social classes and occupations themselves. Broadly speaking, most are middle class educated men and women with one or more university degrees, (Afshari, for example, is a metallurgist by training) and increasingly they subscribe to a “scientific” approach – one that values knowledge and expertise – to heritage and its affiliated fields such as tourism or history. The idea of ethnic diversity within national unity sets these heritage activists apart from previous generations of nationalists, whose ideas were at times less tolerant towards diversity and multiplicity. By mentioning “those
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[ethnicities and peoples] who have been separated from one another during the past two centuries due to colonial conspiracies”,55 the signatories seem both to make a point about cultural connectedness beyond geopolitical borders, and more importantly, warn the state that its policies may result in further disintegration of the country. One can therefore assume that the signatories were driven by powerful emotions including an emerging sense of patriotism or nationalism in which ethnic and cultural diversity is not seen to undermine the nationstate or its territorial integrity, both of which the NGOs fiercely defend. Rather, following the civilizational domains thesis, the identity advocated in the letter is at once cosmopolitan and secular. The common patriotic impulse – as one informant puts it: “utter love of Iran” – is expressed in their concern for the preservation of Iranian territorial integrity and implies an acceptance of a version of the idea of the nation-state. The rallying symbols of this nationalism are history, heritage and historic characters as well as the Persian language (itself seen as shared heritage). They are concerned with the preservation of Persian as the official and common cultural language56 (while being supportive of local languages and dialects, but not at the expense of the disintegration of the official language).
Strategic Alliances, Logistics and Practical Approach The letter indicates a measure of strategic, logistical and practical thinking on the part of these heritage activists in Iran. Their first request is a reduction of red tape in the registration and mutual cooperation on the part of authorities so that the NGO’s capacities can be put to good use.57 Second, they request government “hardware support”, meaning infrastructural and in-kind (rather than direct financial) assistance for their local and national networking activities. This in-kind support pertains to resources such as places for activity; it indicates a struggle over the independent survival of heritage NGOs.58 They are in effect asking the state to supply them with the space for activism, the indirect result of which would be the expansion of the public sphere, particularly in the cultural sphere where these activists wish to mediate and facilitate.59 The third request involves proposing the appointment of new heads for the cultural heritage organization (ICHHTO) and the Environmental Protection agency, both of whom have now been replaced.60 This in itself suggests that the NGOs are increasing their political opportunities by placing sympathetic people in key positions in the administration and that the new administration was prepared to engage with them in a dynamic
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with the potential to expand the public sphere. This is discernible from Afshari’s statement on the letter: “Now in this letter, we decided to take a step further for the environment by including a specific demand [to avoid generalities] such as ‘pay attention to the environment and cultural heritage’. We thought we had to include an individual and that this was a step forward.”61
Finally, there is an expressed alliance with the environmentalist movement.62 Environmental activists constitute a well-recognised movement in Iran63 with broad organisational and international contacts.64 This alliance increases the resources and the strategic leverage of heritage activists. This also represents an attempt to expand the meaning of heritage relative to the way it has been understood institutionally in the past but in line with the interpretation of the term by UNESCO. Additionally, two of my informants in Tehran suggested that heritage NGOs are at the very early stages of cooperation and exchange with their counterparts in, for example, Central Asia and Afghanistan. This impression is reinforced by another part of the letter which suggests their intention to establish a functioning and multi-scale national network. The signatory NGOs had managed to keep their network operating through maintaining personal contacts and the holding of a few unofficial, quasi national symposia. Even this constituted a practical challenge to the attitude of the state which, according to some of my other informants, would not permit the growth of the membership base of heritage NGOs beyond 40 or 50 members. All of these factors highlight the strategic approach being taken by these heritage activists and NGOs. To them, the state is not an impenetrable totality, but a political structure, a field for strategic action and contestation and an arena comprising multiple unstable organisations with shifting goals with which they have to engage.65 Perhaps for this reason, and for other reasons including their own safety, most activists have a reformist tendency and seek to operate within the parameters defined by the state. While many of their actions have political consequences, they emphatically characterise their activities as cultural rather than political. Therefore, strategically or intellectually, they are closer to a so-called reformist camp within the state factions and are presently within the “centrist” administration of Rouhani. As such, they generally avoid anti-systemic tendencies and do not seek to overthrow the state but rather engage with those of its wings with which they can cooperate.
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Redefining Homeland through a Heritage Movement There is a growing heritage movement in Iran, which is engaging the state and, through that engagement, is transforming public discourse and attempting to redefine the idea of homeland. It is clear that heritage has been a cause for social activism, which, I suggest, has provided the basis for a distinctive social movement, albeit explainable through a hybrid of Political Opportunity and Framing theories.66 Iranian heritage activism and the NGOs which participated in the letter seem to share the six common characteristics of social movements mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. First, they are organised collectives, which were clearly evidenced in the letter to the President-elect. Second, they present a challenge to the existing institutional or cultural authority. Third, they claim a shared identity, which in the case of the letter, was articulated through an overarching conceptual frame of a shared homeland. Heritage activism becomes an important part of their identity propelled by their basic need to attain professional or social status, to socialise, to participate in a circle of likeminded people and to define their individual identities in relation to others within a common cause. For some, this is a life pursuit that can take over their day jobs. Fourth, they have a clear sustained activism.67 Fifth, they are publicly visible both through protest and in various media outlets. Sixth, they have or intend to use space unconventionally, be it for protest at World Heritage sites (this has occurred but is not discussed in this chapter) or through demands to use some state-owned historic properties as bases for independent NGOs. The characteristics of heritage activists demonstrated in the letter are indicative of a heritage movement in its infancy, developing in response to the changing nature of the state’s attitudes towards Iranian heritage and culture. These changes have had direct repercussions for the meaning, implications and official scope of heritage and the media has become a significant arena in which this contestation is expressed.
Notes 1
The research for this project was sanctioned through an ethics approval at Curtin University (Approval number: HURGS-02-13). I am grateful to my assistant Freyja Bottrell for helping with editing various drafts of this paper. As part of a larger study of heritage movements in Iran and Asia (see http://bit.ly/1y1xKM1), this chapter is the outcome of the Heritage Movements in Asia panel co-chaired by myself and my colleague Dr Tod Jones at the Indian Ocean Futures conference
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held in March 2014 in Perth. The ideas of this paper benefited from my conversations with Heritage activists in Iran, Dr Tod Jones and Professor Jim Jasper as well as participation in a master class (February 2015) in Perth organised by Tod Jones and myself. However, I am solely responsible for any shortcomings. 2 A case in point would be references to one specific and influential group, Afraz, by Holliday as representatives of new-Iranism, or by Marcinkowski before her, as ultra-nationalists whose work is not hindered by the state and whose ideas will lead to expansionism and racism. Bound by their canons, they (Marcinkowski more so than Holliday) fail to adequately contextualise specific conditions on the ground that give rise to the collective action strategies espoused by Afraz and similar heritage activist groups or NGOs. See Holliday, Shabnam. 2011. Defining Iran: Politics of Resistance. Franham: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd. Also see Holliday, Shabnam. 2007. “The Politicisation of Culture and the Contestation of Iranian National Identity in Khatami’s Iran.” Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism 7 (1): 27–45. Also see Marcinkowski, Christoph. 2007. “Between Greater Iran and Shi’ite Crescent: Some Thoughts on the Nature of Iran’s Ambitions in the Middle East.” 3 Mozaffari, Ali. 2015. “The Heritage ‘NGO’: A Case Study on the Role of Grass Roots Heritage Societies in Iran and Their Perception of Cultural Heritage.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 21 (9): 845–61. doi:10.1080/13527258.2015.1028961. 4 Jasper, James M. 2014. Protest: A Cultural Introduction to Social Movements. Malden: Polity Press, 18. 5 Snow, David A. 2004. “Framing Processes, Ideology, and Discursive Fields.” In The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, edited by David A. Snow, Sarah Anne Soule, and Hanspeter Kriesi, 380–412. Malden: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 6 Ibid, 8. 7 Diani, Mario. 1992. “The Concept of Social Movement.” The Sociological Review, 40 (1): 13. doi:10.1111/j.1467-954X.1992.tb02943.x. 8 Jasper, James M. Protest: A Cultural Introduction to Social Movements, 5-6. 9 Ibid. 10 The document is available online and in the public domain. The full version of the letter can be found at: http://bit.ly/1E4BH4X and the short version at: http://bit.ly/1C5Ef7Q. 11 Blog available at: http://khordegiri.blogfa.com. 12 Mattoni, Alice. 2013. “Repertoires of Communication in Social Movement Processes.” In Mediation and Protest Movements, edited by Bart Cammaerts, Alice Mattoni and Patrick McCurdy, 39-56. Bristol UK: Intellect Ltd, 42. 13 Khiabany, Gholam. 2008. “The Iranian Press, State, and Civil Society.” In Media, Culture and Society in Iran: Living with Globalization and the Islamic State, edited by Mehdi Semati, 17-36. London and New York: Routledge, 17. 14 Tunbridge, J. E., and Gregory John Ashworth. 1996. Dissonant Heritage: The Management of the Past as a Resource in Conflict. J. Hoboken: Wiley, 20. 15 Ibid.
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Mozaffari, Ali. 2014. Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place. London: I.B.Tauris. 17 Here the term “modern Iran” connotes the institutionalisation of a modern political system through the Constitutional Revolution of 1905 which brought forth the establishment of a house of representatives and institutionalised the separation of powers and the subsequent formation of a public sphere. 18 A similar timeline has been used in the periodization of cultural policies. See Holliday, Shabnam. Defining Iran: Politics of Resistance. Also see Hunter, Shireen T. 2014. Iran Divided: The Historical Roots of Iranian Debates on Identity, Culture, and Governance in the Twenty-First Century. London: Rowman & Littlefield. 19 Grigor, Talinn. 2009. Building Iran: Modernism, Architecture, and National Heritage Under the Pahlavi Monarchs. New York: Periscope Publishing. 20 Mozaffari, Ali. Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place. 21 Grigor, Talinn. 2005. Cultivat(ing) Modernities: The Society for National Heritage, Political Propaganda and Public Architecture in Twentieth-Century Iran. Thesis. Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 39-52. 22 Grigor, Talinn. 2005. Cultivat(ing) Modernities: The Society for National Heritage, Political Propaganda and Public Architecture in Twentieth-Century Iran. Thesis. Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 53. 23 Ibid, 51. 24 Mozaffari, Ali. Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place. 25 Ibid. 26 Which is, in this sense, similar to Smith’s Authorised Heritage Discourse. See Smith, Laurajane. 2006. Uses of Heritage. Hoboken: Routledge, 5, 48-51. 27 For an example of how this discourse was manifested refer to Mozaffari, Ali. Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place. Also see Alireza. 2013. Interview of Alireza Afshari, interviewer Ali Mozaffari, September, Tehran. 28 Hodjat, Mehdi. 1995. “Cultural Heritage in Iran: Policies for an Islamic Country.” Thesis, University of York, 48. http://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/2460/. 29 Mozaffari, Ali. Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place. 30 Hunter, Shireen T. 2014. Iran Divided: The Historical Roots of Iranian Debates on Identity, Culture, and Governance in the Twenty-First Century. London: Rowman & Littlefield, 138-139. 31 Scholars such as Sohrab Behdad identify other issues including general economic pressures following the revolution and during the war, internal factionalism among the state elite, an investment and foreign exchange crisis, public disillusionment with revolutionary rhetoric, and the disenfranchisement of the bourgeois class and their subsequent political pressure for decentralisation as being among the reasons for this opening of the economic sphere. Accordingly,
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Behdad determines the date of this liberalisation as 1990, with the onset of the first Five-Year Plan (1989/90). See Behdad, Sohrab. 2000. “From Populism to Economic Liberalism.” In The Economy of Iran: The Dilemma of an Islamic State, edited by Parvin Alizadeh, Hassan Hakimian, and Massoud Karshenas, 100–142. London: I.B.Tauris. For another reading on the economic conditions of this period see Karshenas, Massoud, and M. Hashem Pesaran. 1995. “Economic Reform and the Reconstruction of the Iranian Economy.” Middle East Journal 49 (1): 89–111. 32 The existence of factionalism within the Islamic Republic is common knowledge and, while scholars such as Moslem and Rieffer-Flanagan trace its roots to competing ideals within the revolutionary political system or the coalition of revolutionary forces, others find deeper historical roots dating back to the Islamic invasion of Iran in the seventh century CE. See Moslem, Mehdi. 2002a. “The State and Factional Politics in the Islamic Republic of Iran.” In Twenty Years of Islamic Revolution: Political and Social Transition in Iran Since 1979, edited by Eric James Hooglund, 19–35. New York: Syracuse University Press. Also see Moslem, Mehdi. 2002b. Factional Politics in Post-Khomeini Iran. New York: Syracuse University Press. Also see Rieffer-Flanagan, Barbara Ann. 2013. Evolving Iran: An Introduction to Politics and Problems in the Islamic Republic. Washington: Georgetown University Press. Also see Hunter, Shireen T. 2014. Iran Divided: The Historical Roots of Iranian Debates on Identity, Culture, and Governance in the Twenty-First Century. London: Rowman & Littlefield. 33 Wells, Matthew C. 1999. “Thermidor in the Islamic Republic of Iran: The Rise of Muhammad Khatami.” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 26 (1): 27–39. Also see Seifzadeh, Hossein S. 2003. “The Landscape of Factional Politics and Its Future in Iran.” The Middle East Journal 57 (1): 57–75. 34 Translated from the Islamic Parliament Research Center, http://rc.majlis.ir/fa/law/show/91755 35 Abdi, Kamyar. 2001. “Nationalism, Politics, and the Development of Archaeology in Iran.” American Journal of Archaeology 105 (1): 51–76. doi:10.2307/507326. 36 Holliday, Shabnam. Defining Iran: Politics of Resistance. Also see Tazmini, Ghoncheh. 2009. Khatami’s Iran: The Islamic Republic and the Turbulent Path to Reform. London: I.B.Tauris. 37 Holliday, Shabnam. Defining Iran: Politics of Resistance, 106, 109. 38 Holliday, Shabnam. Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism. 39 Quotes obtained in 2007 from the Dignitaries’ Visitors Book at the office of the Persepolis Archaeological Site. I wish to express our gratitude to the ParsaPasargadae Research Foundation for facilitating on-site research. 40 Ibid. 41 Although state factionalism continued and intensified with the election of neoconservatives headed by Ahmadinejad, their policies (or rhetoric) toward acknowledging an Iranian homeland and pre-Islamic history remain in place. Instrumentally, Ahmadinejad’s administration introduced the idea of an Iranian School of thought, highlighting the potency of nationalism as well as the unresolved issues of collective identity. Hunter, Shireen T. 2014. Iran Divided:
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The Historical Roots of Iranian Debates on Identity, Culture, and Governance in the Twenty-First Century. London: Rowman & Littlefield, 233-237. 42 Kriesi, Hanspeter; 2004. Political Context and Opportunity. In The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, edited by David A. Snow, Sarah A. Soule, and Hanspeter Kriesi, 67–90. Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 70. 43 Williams, Rhys H. 2004. “The Cultural Contexts of Collective Action: Constraints, Opportunities, and the Symbolic Life of Social Movements.” In The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, edited by David A. Snow, Sarah A. Soule, and Hanspeter Kriesi, 91–115. Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 110. 44 Snow, David A. 2004. “Framing Processes, Ideology, and Discursive Fields.” In The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, edited by David A. Snow, Sarah Anne Soule, and Hanspeter Kriesi, 380–412. Malden: Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 384. 45 Zubaida, Sami. 1997. “Is Iran an Islamic State?” Political Islam: Essays from Middle East Report, 118. 46 Snow, David A. The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, 393. 47 Shamoradi, Elham, and Ebrahim Abdollahzadeh. 2014. “Antinomies of Development: Heritage, Media and the Sivand Dam Controversy.” In World Heritage in Iran Perspectives on Pasargadae, edited and translated by Ali Mozaffari. Surrey: Ashgate Publishing; Burlington, 225-254. 48 Iranian Students’ News Agency (ISNA). 2007. “ήϴΑΩ ϩΎ̴ϳΎ̡ ωϼρϲϧΎγέ ϱήΑ ΕΎΠϧ ϥΎϣΩΎϳϱΎϫ ϲϧΎΘγΎΑ: ϲόϤΠΗ εϮΟΩϮΧ ϱήΑ νήΘϋ ϪΑ Ώϱήϴ̳ Ϊγ ΪϧϮϴγ ϞΑΎϘϣ Εέίϭ ϭήϴϧ έΰ̳ήΑ Ϊη,” February 7. http://bit.ly/1C6Xzzj. 49 Item 2 in the long version: http://bit.ly/1E4BH4X 50 Pahlavan, Changiz. 1382. Panj Goft-o-go. Tehran: Atai Publishers, 17-19. 51 Based on File:Map of the world 1998.jpg, obtained from Wikimediacommons, available in public domain (http://bit.ly/1RCsRU0) 52 Item 2, summary letter, available at: http://bit.ly/1C5Ef7Q 53 Ibid. 54 It is noteworthy that ethnic relations are an area of concern for heritage NGOs to the extent that some, such as Afraz, have established an “ethnicities working group” which involves people–academics and activists–of various ethnic origins and from different parts of the political spectrum to discuss, formulate and at times disseminate ideas about the current state of ethnic relations in Iran. 55 Ibid. 56 For some this may turn into a dogma in expression, for example an attempt to avoid foreign terms in speech. 57 Translation of the relevant text from http://bit.ly/1E4BH4X reads “a reduction in various steps of registration, and red tape to speed up NGO registrations which particularly due to security outlooks (of officials) they have always received oneyear permits and the slightest suspicion of wrong doing on their part resulted in the withdrawal (of those permits).” 58 In the past various arms of the state, including the municipalities which owns many of the spaces that NGOs could utilise, have constructed their own cultural associations and NGOs which received financial support either directly or through
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various government contracts and thus diminished the effect and presence of the so-called independent NGOs. While heritage NGOs would like to get involved proactively and engage the government, they wish to maintain their independence by rejecting financial support which would render them an extension of the state. This kind of engagement is also provisioned in the law and in recent times (since the election of Rouhani) ICHHTO has held a number of meetings with NGO representatives to invite them for cooperation. 59 Translation of the relevant text from http://bit.ly/1E4BH4X reads: “NGOs, especially the younger ones are bases for teamwork and naturally susceptible to trial and error, it is suggested that those NGOs that are older than 3 years be granted a … permanent registration and permit … so that the change of policies and personal whims (of politicians) cannot hamper or suspend their activities.” This is indeed an attempt to protect the movement against shifts in possible factional influences upon the political structure. 60 Translated from http://bit.ly/1E4BH4X. 61 Afshari, interviewer Mozaffari. 62 Ibid. 63 Fadaee, Simin. 2012. Social Movements in Iran: Environmentalism and Civil Society. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis. Also see Abe, Satoshi. 2012. “Iranian Environmentalism: Nationhood, Alternative Natures, and the Materiality of Objects.” Nature and Culture 7 (3): 259-84. 64 My informants–heritage activists from both Tehran and the province of Shiraz– admired much about the environmentalist movement due to its scientific and often practical approach, relative organisational and mobilization capacity, effective engagement with various state institutions, and maturity in handling the Iranian context including its internal and external differences. Possibly due to these qualities, the environmental movement enjoys significantly higher membership levels compared to heritage NGOs. It is also recognised that the scientific construction of the environment by these movements operates within the frame of nationhood. See Abe, Satoshi. 2012. “Iranian Environmentalism: Nationhood, Alternative Natures, and the Materiality of Objects.” Nature and Culture 7 (3): 259-84. 65 Jasper, James M. 2015. “Introduction: Playing the Game.” In Players and Arenas: The Interactive Dynamics of Protest, edited by James M. Jasper and Jan Willem Duyvendak. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 9-12, 30. 66 Others have demonstrated the use of classic or new social movement theory in explaining activism and social upheavals in modern Iran. It has also been observed that political movements such as reformism or some other social movements such as Environmentalism, cannot be explained by a single school of social movements theory (such as Resources) but require a hybrid approach that considers the specificities of Iranian society and state. See Jalaeepour, Hamid Reza. 2010. Sociology of the Social Movements with an Emphasis on Reform Movement of the 2nd of Khordad. Tehran: Tarh-e No. Also see Fadaee, Simin. 2012. Social Movements in Iran : Environmentalism and Civil Society. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis. 67 Jasper, James. Protest: A Cultural Introduction to Social Movements, 5-6.
CHAPTER THREE NOSTALGIA: MEMORIES OF THE PAST, LONGING FOR THE FUTURE LAYLI RAKHSHA
As an Iranian migrant and artist in Australia who has experienced displacement and its impact on my life and artistic practice, I consider nostalgia to be not only an emotional response to homeland. Nostalgia is also a longing for a place that can be home or a desired place in the future. I think of Iran, where I was born and Australia, where I have spent more time. I desire to call a place home, and I feel nostalgic when I recall the good memories of being in Iran. I also feel nostalgic when I think of moving to Australia and aiming to learn and adapt to the new culture and society. Nostalgia has become part of my artistic practice, personality, memories and experiences in both Iran and Australia. Nostalgia has shaped my imagination, my creativity and desire for a place to call home. Therefore, I suggest that nostalgia evokes imagination by creating images of home that may only exist in the mind. Nostalgia is a subject of ongoing debate, discussed by many scholars in relation to longing, home, identity, memory and displacement. Svetlana Boym claims that “nostalgia is a feeling of displacement, and it is a longing for home that may have either existed in the past or will exist in the future.”1 According to this, I argue that nostalgia is not only a longing for returning to homeland, but a desire for home nourished by memories of homeland and experiences of displacement. Susanna Stewart suggests that “nostalgia is the desire for desire” that can cherish memory and cultivate imagination and longing.2 Since nostalgia is a desire, it can stimulate creative narratives about self and its connections to the past, present and future. We can read nostalgia, or echoes of nostalgia, in artworks that suggest an “intimacy that is connected to home.”3 David Lowenthal claims that “nostalgia is a memory and memory glamorizes the past.”4 Memory
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can also provoke imagination. Considering these scholarly statements and definitions regarding nostalgia, I argue that longing and imagination shaped by nostalgia manifest a sense of intimacy with home or a place that could be home. In other words, nostalgia is not only a longing for the past or homeland but also a longing for a home in the future. In this chapter, I analyse the artworks of two migrant artists in Australia, Hossein Valamanesh and Khadim Ali, to argue that nostalgia can be an emotional motivation for creativity through imagining home and narrating identity and cultural history. I examine works of these artists which are informed by their use of symbolic objects from their cultural heritage and homeland, and describe how the emotional connection to these symbolic objects are translated and transformed in a new context. I contend that Hossein Valamanesh and Khadim Ali’s artworks do not represent or depict nostalgia; rather, nostalgia plays a hidden role. Valamanesh and Ali’s artworks speak of a marriage between places and a desire that offers peace and freedom. Having a similar cultural background to Valamanesh and Ali and knowing of certain cultural symbols, I will deconstruct the work of both artists to suggest that nostalgia has an influence in their artworks, and that nostalgia as “an emotional response” to their memories and experiences in Australia remains in their artistic practices.5
Longing for the Future: Reflection of Nostalgia in the Works of Hossein Valamanesh For Hossein Valamanesh, who was born in Iran in 1949 and migrated to Australia in 1973, Persian poetry has been a major influence on his works, especially the writings of Jalal ad Din Balkhi, also known as Rumi. Rumi’s poetry provokes Valamanesh’s imagination for understanding who he is and where he comes from. A single word such as aazadi (freedom) or eshg (love), or simply a line of Rumi’s poem I Have Been Knocking from the Inside narrates Valamanesh’s personal story, expresses his longing for home, evokes an emotion or significant memory and acts as a visual and cultural source. On the Way (1990) depicts the shadow of a figure walking across the desert. A walking stick, a pair of shoes, a silk bag containing a loaf of bread and a footprint symbolize personal belongings of Valamanesh which “resonate with memories and cultural significance.”6 These objects enable Valamanesh to explore the themes of personal identity, travel, journey and displacement as well as referring to the artist’s attachment to his tradition and the poetical values of seemingly insignificant or everyday objects. In another work, Shadow of a Cloud
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(1992), a hat and shadow not only refer to the artist’s story of journey, but speak of absence, of missing something or leaving something behind as well as following the traces of the past. I interviewed Hossein Valamanesh in his studio in 2011 as part of my doctoral research. My aim was to discuss the ideas of home and homeland with him, how he visualizes home in Australia, and whether he represents the image of home in his works since migrating to this country. I looked at numerous works in his house and studio and saw that each work was not only related to a personal story, a memory of the past, or an experience linked to his homeland, but also reflected a distinctive quality of nostalgia. I felt overwhelmed with nostalgia for my time in Iran while looking at some familiar objects and poetry in Valamanesh’s works. Valamanesh and I started our conversation with the past, our days in Iran and our personal experiences in Tehran. We talked about familiar places that we both had personal and emotional connections to and their significant cultural impact on Valamanesh’s artistic practice. I became very emotional and nostalgic for my homeland, for Iran. In their book Home, Blunt and Dowling suggest “home is an idea and an imaginary that is imbued with feeling. These may be feelings of belonging, desire and intimacy. Home is: a place or site, a set of feelings and cultural meanings, and the relations between the two.”7 For Valamanesh, “the fundamental concept of home starts with the shape of a house in Iran, and the image of home is the kind of houses with big courtyards with a little blue pool in the middle”.8 The construction or physicality of this imaginary or ideal home is related to the culture and tradition of the locations where he lived in Iran. Beside the necessity of having a physical home and Valamanesh’s desire for an imaginary home, he believes that “there is an ‘other home’ that can be within ourselves and understanding of ourselves, who you are and where you are. You feel comfortable in this home and then you are metaphorically at home”.9 Home of Mad Butterflies (1996) is an example of the connection between the artist’s idea of “other home,” his identity and personality. In this work, Valamanesh uses two ladders, his own traditional Persian shoes and Rumi’s poetry about metaphysical existence in order to represent the possibility of moving upward and finding the home in which he feels comfortable. The shoes and ladders are objects that incite and narrate nostalgia that “remains behind and before the experience of metaphysical existence and other home.”10 Having this experience becomes a desire for Valamanesh, and this “other home” becomes a much more important home for the artist; it is a home where the artist has intimate moments and an understanding or acceptance of himself. Valamanesh’s desire for
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exploring himself through culture and memories that “validate his personal identity” remain in his works.11 Recalling memories and the past become “integral to the artist’s sense of Iranian identity” and the idea of home.12 In the work Open book (1993), an open book in a shape of a human figure and Recent Arrival (1988), a human shadow, the artist represents the absence of identity or the absence of something necessary to identify who you are and where you are going. The question of the absence of something shapes imaginations and evokes memories of the past and nostalgia. Susan Stewart suggests “nostalgia, like any form of narrative, is always ideological; something like a desire and longing for the desire. The past only exists as narrative and it is always absent.”13 According to this, nostalgia is about the past or a story related to the past. However, nostalgia narrates a desire that refers to not only the past, but to belonging and identity as well as a desire for something in the present or future. In Recent Arrival (1988), there is a shadow approaching an unknown place. This work is about the past and present; it is a symbol of arriving to a new place and taking a journey towards knowing it or searching for “other home.” In terms of the relationship between home and nostalgia, Valamanesh’s other home echoes “reflective nostalgia” when he expresses this home to understand who he is.14 Valamanesh’s desire for this home is reflected in most of his artworks and makes him continue searching for it as well as exploring this idea in his artistic practice. In her book The Future of Nostalgia, Svetlana Boym suggests “nostalgia is a longing for a home that no longer exists or has never existed.”15 According to this, nostalgia is reflected and shaped by memory and imagination. It also creates desire to imagine home, a place that can be called home or a place that can be defined and imagined based on physical and cultural experiences such as displacement and migration. Nostalgia is embedded in these ideas of home. Therefore nostalgia as a longing for home can only be defined as longing for a place that may exist in the future, the imagination or the stories of an individual. Nostalgia is longing for a home that may have existed in the past or will exist in the future, as well as an emotional manifestation of and response to a significant memory. In other words, the positive force of nostalgia can transform memories of the past into a longing for the future. Boym also proposes “there are two kinds of nostalgia that are associated with the past, longing and loss, collective memories, individual stories, home and dreams of another place and another time.”16 One is “restorative nostalgia,” which is about social, cultural and historical past and present, and this type “gravitates toward collective pictorial symbols and oral culture.”17 The
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other type is “reflective nostalgia,” which is about individual and cultural memory; “it is more oriented towards individual narrative that savors details and memorial signs, and cherishes shattered fragments of memory.”18 Considering “restorative nostalgia” in Khadim Ali’s artworks can give a new perspective on the artist who endeavors to settle and understand new cultural traditions and meanings as well as create new forms of traditional, cultural and emotional connections in a new place. Ali’s restorative nostalgia is more about reconstructing and longing for the lost home, whereas Valamanesh’s reflective nostalgia is more about memories or Boym’s dreams of another place and time.19 Reflective nostalgia that narrates stories of personal experiences and appreciates memories can appear or begin after restorative nostalgia. Both types of nostalgia can have positive and negative effects towards the idea of home and imagining home and different impacts on an individual’s desire and imagination. I argue that the positive force of both types of nostalgia can motivate and encourage creativity. Also, when both restorative and reflective nostalgia overlap, imagination as “a creative process of the mind used for thinking and remembering memory and creating or forming opinion” is at work.20 Boym states that “these two kinds of nostalgia are ways of giving shape and meaning to longing.”21 Therefore, I suggest that nostalgia closely associated with longing for and imagining home is a response to an experience as well as a motivation for creativity. Nostalgia arises when I speak of my memories of Iran, my new home in Australia, my attachments and experience of displacement as a continuing process of change in my social and cultural relationships in Australia. In his book, Welcoming the Stranger: Narratives of Identity and Belonging in an Iranian Diaspora, Mammad Aidani suggests that Persian music, poetry and literature are used as “cultural anchors” to access collective emotions, experiences and memories and give Iranians a sense of being ‘at home’.22 In his works, Valamanesh often employs or includes objects such as a hat, walking stick, Persian rug, ladder, bread or pair of shoes to symbolise Persian culture, tradition and history. I do not suggest that Valamanesh uses personal objects or Persian poetry to depict his attachment to his homeland or his search for home. Rather, I argue that Valamanesh uses these personal and familiarly Persian objects to both visualize a place that allows him to have a sense of belonging, freedom and independence, and create a new dialogue with both Iranian and nonIranian audiences.
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Figure 3.1. Hossein Vamanaesh, Shade of Green, 2009.23
Shade of Green in (Figure 3.1) repeats a single word, aazadi (freedom), several times. Valamanesh uses green as a symbol of unity and hope for those asking that their votes be counted or included in 2009 Iranian election. Valamanesh feels nostalgia for freedom; he feels sympathy for home and expresses the emotional part of his experiences of living far away from Iran. Sara Ahmed suggests that home is an imaginary place in which imagination is nourished by feelings such longing and nostalgia.24 Therefore, considering the conceptual construction between home and nostalgia, nostalgia is defined as an emotional response to any ideas, desire for home, reflections, memories of the past and longing for the future. What happens in the homeland becomes the influential source and theme for expressing and representing Valamanesh’s artistic motif and life in Australia. Shade of Green not only provides new vision and information to audiences in his host society but also invites the viewer into a poetic conversation about memories, home and longing for the future. The repetition of aazadi creates an abstract image of home in which the artist feels at peace and free. Looking at this work, I imagine a silent echo of aazadi in the middle of a eucalypt forest in Australia.
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Figure 3.2. Hossein Vamanaesh, Longing Belonging, 1997.25
One of his major artworks made in Australia, Longing Belonging (Figure 3.2), is an image of a fire burning on a Persian carpet. This work alludes to displacement, distinctive identity, cultural exchange and longing for home in the host society. In addition, this work represents feelings such as nostalgia, love, a passion for life and desire for home. Fire and carpet are two elements that imply dwelling, making a place comfortable and private. The fire references a life-sustaining symbol (as defined in the ancient Persian religion and philosophy, Zoroastrianism). The carpet references Persian culture and history, and refers to the temporary settlement and travelling associated with Persian nomadic tribes. Jessica Marshallsay proposes the work “refers to notions of home as a place of refuge and comfort” rather than a tangible place, suggesting that belonging is an adaptable, emotional experience.26 It reflects nostalgia and symbolizes a longing for home and a sense of intimacy with both home and the new place; for the past and the future. Valamanesh not only
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represents and acknowledges Persian culture and tradition in this work, but expresses and explores his desire for a symbolic relationship between his Iranian culture, tradition and the Australian landscape. Longing Belonging (1997) is a symbolic image of cultural connection, the artist’s image of an imaginary home and a poetic dialogue between two cultures. Rachel Kent suggests that Valmanesh’s art is not “shadowed by nostalgia for the past,” but attempts to reconcile both places and experiences; the past and present.27 Longing Belonging reveals Valamanesh’s deep desire to narrate stories about his longing for a metaphysical home as a place of refuge and comfort. By placing the Persian carpet in a clear part of the Australian bush, Valamanesh represents the idea of adopting the new place as home and creating new forms of attachment. The rapprochement between two places accompanied by Valamanesh’s stories speaks of his passion and love, his “individual time and journey” and attachment to certain memories and experiences that mostly happened to him in Iran.28 While each work is related to Valamanesh’s story, a memory of the past, or an experience linked to his homeland, nostalgia is not the subject matter of his work. Yet, when he speaks about the work and specific memories or experiences of the past, his stories and feelings toward the past generate and reflect nostalgia as well as his longing for the future.
Memories of the Past: the Reflection of Nostalgia in the Works of Khadim Ali Khadim Ali was born in Pakistan in 1978, lived in Afghanistan as a refugee, then moved to Australia in 2010. Like Valamanesh, Persian poetry is a source of inspiration in his artworks. In his recent project dOCUMENTA (13), Ali focuses on poetry and epic characters such as Rostam and Div (demon) from Shahnameh (the Book of Kings). Shahnameh is a book of epic poems about kings, kingdoms, demons, darkness and light. It was written by Persian poet Hakim Abol-Qasem Ferdowsi around 1010 AD. In Shahnameh, Div, usually translated as “demon,”29 is a mythical character with magical skills who mostly stands in the hero’s way and “against goodness and benefaction.”30 Ali uses Rostam – the hero and most celebrated champion in Persian folklore represented in one of the stories of Shahnameh called Rostam and Sohrab – to show how the Taliban has appropriated Rostam and his power to symbolize and characterize their religious belief and movement. In Rostam and Sohrab’s story they are father and son. During the war between Persia and Turan (historically a region around central Asia), Rostam stabs his son Sohrab in the heart without knowing that he was his son.
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Figure 3.3. Khadim Ali, Haunted Lotus, 2012.31
Following Ali’s his first visit to Bamiyan, central Afghanistan, in an interview with Leeza Ahmady he says “he began to see Rostam as a demon,” so began painting demons.32 One of Ali’s artworks (Figure 3.3) from The Haunted Lotus series depicts a div (demon) lounging on the dead Buddha or “dying Buddha” with his fist under his chin.33 In this painting, the demon symbolizing the Taliban or perhaps Rostam looks like a vigorous leader who is satisfied and resting after ruining the heritage and culture of a nation. I suggest that Ali paints demons to represent the Taliban, who supposedly aim to vanquish the history and culture of Afghanistan. The demon and Buddha are painted in horizontal positions with their heads in different directions in order to imply life and death, the absence and the present, past and future. Susanna Holak and William Havlea discuss nostalgia as an “emotional reaction” to an event or situation or perhaps something that has been lost.34
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They also contend there are two types of nostalgia associated with emotions: historical nostalgia which speaks of times that are now part of the culture and history, and personal nostalgia which is more related to personal experiences and the person’s memory of the past.35 Historical nostalgia can relate to the future when the idea of rebuilding a lost home becomes part of history. Simultaneously, historical nostalgia speaks of the impact of historical events on a culture, nation, society or even an individual and can be a shared experience related to the past, present and even the future. In other words, historical nostalgia speaks of nostalgia for what happened before, what happens now and what will happen in the future. Personal nostalgia reflects personal desire and memories as well as narrating stories of identity and personal experiences. Both types of nostalgia have emotional impact on home and reconstructing the lost home. The Haunted Lotus represents a time in history; it manifests a “historical nostalgia” that creates images of a cultural and historical destination in the future.36 It also represents Ali’s sympathy for people who suffer, his emotional and personal experiences of visiting Bamiyan as well as his worries about what will happen to the culture and history of Hazaras. In his interview with Leeza Ahmady, Ali suggests: “The version of the Buddha that I paint is therefore a dying Buddha. The blast that destroyed the Buddhas of Bamiyan in a matter of seconds signifies the fatal transition between presence and absence ... the Buddhas existed physically before, but after the blast, they only continued to exist metaphysically. During recent excavations, there were still fragments of the Buddhas ... the dying Buddha.”37
After the Taliban destroyed the Buddha statues in Bamiyan, Buddha has become a memory, an imaginary object, a symbol of the past and present as well as a symbol of metaphysical existence. Therefore, as a symbol of “the collective memory of a society that is wounded,” Buddha continues to exist in both the present and imagination rather than be forgotten.38 At the same time Rostam becomes a “collective pictorial symbol” of the Taliban.39 In an interview with Nicholson, Ali said "I think I'm going back, I'm bridging myself to my own dark history, to the histories of Hazaras where I'm trying to hear all those screams and shouts where they – they were unheard on those dark nights." 40 Therefore, Ali’s historical nostalgia speaks of his emotional response to the demon, who is now part of history and becoming a legend, and the dying Buddha, which symbolizes people who are shouting, yearning and dying in silent.
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Figure 3.4. Khadim Ali, The Heart That Has No Love, Pain and Generosity is Not a Heart, 2012.41
The Heart That Has No Love, Pain and Generosity is Not a Heart (Figure 3.4) offers the powerful image of the demon’s head in the centre of the painting with some words written underneath it. As a Farsi speaker, I can read the title of the artwork saying that the heart is not a heart if it has no sympathy for pain or has no desire to offer love and kindness. This refers to the demon who has no heart yet has political power. The title of this painting represents the voice of the people and makes the work a poetic declaration or statement to both the demon and the nation. Ali has stated that the story of his demons represent all “displaced and shelterless” people. Particularly the Hazaras, who endure discrimination and injustice.42 Considering Boym’s idea of “restorative nostalgia” in relation to a “means of return to national symbols and myth,” 43 Ali’s artworks manifest
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“restorative nostalgia” when he takes symbolic objects such as Buddha and Rostam to imagine and narrate the story of a trauma that has cultural, social and emotional impacts on Afghan citizens and Afghanistan, the land that has become a place of longing for the artist. In other words, his symbolic use of Buddha and Rostam reflects a type of nostalgia that “stresses home and attempts a transhistorical reconstruction of the lost home.”44 For Ali, nostalgia is about displacement, people whose hearts have been distressed, the lost home and his desire for rebuilding it. Ali’s nostalgia for his history, identity and Hazara’s culture, its national past and present, provoke his imagination to create images of home that offer him comfort. His nostalgia reflects his culture and tradition. Like Valamanesh, Ali visualizes and manifests the voices of his lost home and his desire for something cultural and momentous that could be reconstructed in future.
Imagining a Future Home For both Australian immigrant artists, Hossein Valamanesh and Khadim Ali, nostalgia has had significant impact on their artistic practice in Australia. I do not argue that both of these artists display nostalgia in their works. Rather I propose that, within these artists’ works, nostalgia is transmitted and symbolized by their use of certain objects, symbols, personal belongings, stories and collective memories in their works. Looking at their artworks, I suggest that there is a sense of longing for and understanding of home, as well as a closeness to home or an intimacy connected to home that reflects and echoes nostalgia in their works.45 Valamanesh and Ali use their imaginations and memories of the past and present to manifest their longing for and imagining of home. The artists regard home as a very personal desire connected to their respective experiences and memories. Valamanesh and Ali narrate their stories and experiences of displacement and migration in their works. Through their use of specific and symbolic objects, or even poetry that belongs to their cultures and traditions and provides them with some specific inspiration, the artists speak of identity and their attachments to their memories of homeland. In the works of Valamanesh and Ali, specific objects and symbols from Iran and Afghanistan signify and imply nostalgia as a way of manifesting longing and visualizing imagination. Nostalgia towards some memories of Iran has had positive impact on Valamanesh and his works; it reflects and narrates his own memories and his longing for understanding of self and his relation to both Iran and Australia. By contrast, nostalgia reminds Ali of a trauma, of history, time and his experience of being an Afghan refugee as well as the current situation in
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Afghanistan; it reflects his imagination for the past and a desire for rebuilding homeland in the future. Nostalgia speaks of emotional connections between the past and future; between homeland and an imaginary or desired home of the future. It simultaneously relates to memories of the past and a longing for something in future. Nostalgia can be also used to narrate, manifest and visualize memories and longing in artistic practice. Valamanesh’s artworks signify a longing for an immaterial or spiritual home in which he might experience self-understanding and freedom. His nostalgia reflects his memories and stories of Iran and Australia. They are about his longing for a place as a refuge in the future. Personal objects, poetry and Persian carpets play significant conceptual and symbolic roles in his work, which indicates and conveys nostalgia. Ali visualizes tradition and history. He uses specific cultural and historical symbols and objects to imagine home in the past, present and the future. His nostalgia reflects cultural stories and collective memories of Afghanistan. His nostalgia is about his imagination of the lost home or a home that can be rebuilt based on collective memories and stories. Nostalgia generates Ali’s desire to symbolize and explore his paradoxical feelings towards the past, a loss in the present and experiences of displacement. Personal narratives and cultures in Valamanesh and Ali’s works allow them to shape their ideas and desires within a new context in Australia. These provoke memories of the past as well as longing for a home in the future. Nostalgia is transmitted and symbolized in the artists’ works and some of their corresponding titles. These works not only reflect nostalgia, but also manifest the artists’ sense of intimacy with home and longing for home or something personal, historical and cultural in the future.
Notes 1
Boym, Svetlana. 2007. “Nostalgia and its Discontents.” Hedgehog Review (Summer): 7-18, http://www.iasc-culture.org/eNews/2007_10/9.2CBoym.pdf. 2 Stewart, Susan. 1993. On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 23. 3 Berlant, Lauren, ed. 2000. Intimacy, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 227. 4 Lowenthal, David. 1985. The Past is Foreign Country, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 28. 5 Boym, Svetlana. 2001. The Future of Nostalgia, New York: Basic Books, xiii. 6 Marshallsay, J, ed. 2011. Hossein Valamanesh: Out of Nothingness, South Australia: Wakefield Press, 86.
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Blunt, A. & Dowling, R. 2006. Home. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2. H. Valamanesh, personal communication September 24, 2011. 9 Ibid. 10 Stewart, S. 1993. On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 23. 11 Lowenthal, The Past is Foreign Country, 213. 12 Ibid, 41. 13 Stewart, On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection, 23. 14 Boym, The Future of Nostalgia, 49. 15 Ibid, xiii. 16 Ibid, 41. 17 Ibid, 49. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid, 41. 20 Perdue, Katharine. 2003. “Imagination.” The University of Chicago. http://csmt.uchicago.edu/glossary2004/imagination.htm. 21 Boym, Svetlana. The Future of Nostalgia, 41. 22 Aidani, M. 2010. Welcoming the Stranger: Narratives of Identity and Belonging in an Iranian Diaspora. Australia: Common Ground Publishing Pty Ltd, 22. 23 Hossein Vamanaesh, Shade of Green, 2009. Cotton on linen, 197 x 270 cm. Private collection, Adelaide. Photo: M. Kluvanek. Courtesy of the Artist & Greenaway Art Gallery Adelaide. 24 Ahmed, S., Castaneda, C., Fortier, A. & Sheller, M. (eds.) 2003. Uprootings/ Regroundings: Questions of Home and Migration, Oxford, UK and New York, USA: Berg, 129. 25 Hossein Vamanaesh. 1997. Longing Belonging. Colour photograph, 99 x 99 cm, Persian carpet, black velvet, 215 x 305 cm. Collection, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney. Photo: Ric Martin. Courtesy of the Artist & Greenaway Art Gallery Adelaide. 26 Marshallsay, Hossein Valamanesh: Out of Nothingness, 78. 27 Kent, R. 2012. Tracing the Shadow: Hossein Valamanesh Recent Works. Sydney: Museum of Contemporary Art, 1. 28 Boym, Svetlana. The Future of Nostalgia. 29 Bashiri, Iraj. 2003. “The People of the Shahname: Characters of Firdowsi's Shahname.” Bashiri. http://www.angelfire.com/rnb/bashiri/Farr/shahnamecharacters.html. 30 Haghshenas, S. 2012. “The Demon Myth in the Epic of Khavaran Nameh.” Life Science Journal 9 (3): 1590. 31 Khadim Ali. 2012. Haunted Lotus.Watercolour, gouache and ink on wasli paper, 75 x 56 cm. Courtesy of the Artist & Milani Gallery Brisbane. 32 From Leeza Ahmady’s interview with Khadim Ali prior to the Artist/Agent Public Talk Series event at Documenta (13) Exhibition in Kassel, Germany, in June 2012. 33 Ibid. 8
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Holak and Havlea cited in Marchegiani, C. 2009. Varying Levels of Historical Nostalgia's Effections on Emotions. Curtin University of Technology: School of Marketing, 4. 35 Marchegiani, C. and Phau, I. 2013. “Personal and Historical Nostalgia—a Comparison of Common Emotions.” Journal of Global Marketing 26 (3). 36 Ibid. 37 From Leeza Ahmady’s interview with Khadim Ali prior to the Artist/Agent Public Talk Series event at Documenta (13) Exhibition in Kassel, Germany, in June 2012. 38 Ali, K. 2011. The Force of Forgetting. NSW: Lismore Regional Gallery. 39 Boym, Svetlana. The Future of Nostalgia, 49. 40 Nicholson, A. M. 2014. “Hazara Artist Khadim Ali Goes from Exile in Pakistan to Top Sydney Art Gallery.” ABC News. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-0212/hazara-artist-khadim-ali-goes-from-pakistan-to-sydney-gallery/5255852. 41 Khadim Ali. 2012. The Heart That Has No Love, Pain and Generosity Is Not a Heart. Gouache, ink, and gold leaf on wasli paper, 35 x 27 cm. Courtesy of the Artist & Milani Gallery Brisbane. 42 Cameron, Andrew. 2014. Khadim Ali: The Haunted Lotus. Art Gallery of NSW. http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/khadim-ali/. 43 Boym, Svetlana. The Future of Nostalgia, 41. 44 Boym, Svetlana. Hedgehog Review. 45 Berlant, Lauren. Intimacy.
CHAPTER FOUR AUSTRALIAN BORDER WORKS: REPRESENTATION OF COASTAL PLACES IN ANZAC CENTENARY BOOKS1 THOR KERR
Coastal places have been a powerful symbolic resource in the representation of Australia’s borderlands. This chapter investigates how two coastal places, separated geographically by the Indian Ocean and other seas, are represented in books published in Australia in 2014 to commemorate the Anzac Centenary of World War I. Analysis of these books will follow a brief discussion of Anzac mythology, coastal places and colonization of the Aboriginal country in which the books were purchased. Through this discussion and analysis of the books, Albany at the Dawn of the ANZAC Legend and The Beach they called Gallipoli, this chapter argues that the representation of coastal places in Anzac stories help to legitimise colonial settlers as the authentic locals in Australian space while ignoring Aboriginal claims to land and heritage within the contemporary complex social divisions of this space. This chapter discusses how representation of Anzac coastal places and the apparently empty waters between them help stabilise hegemonic Australia as a legitimate nation, leading readers to forget imperial and other communities operating across national borders as well as the community divisions and tensions within Australia. After examining this representation and its implications, this chapter calls for a more ethical horizon in the representation of coastal places.
Anzac Centenary, Coastal Places and Nyoongar Boodja Approaching the 2014 centenary of World War I, public debates over the extent of frontier conflict and the exploitation of Aboriginal peoples in Australia focussed on the politics of memorialising warfare.2 This was
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partly in response to more than $300 million in state and federal funds and corporate donations being injected into public commemoration of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corp (Anzac) projects, not to mention associated media products such as Gallipoli, an epic seven part series “in which every Australian seems a boy soldier of fifteen.”3 These jingoistic, yet apparently solemn, projects and products about diggers (Australian soldiers) and Anzac traditions have been problematised for distorting public knowledge about soldiering4 and for “defending the indefensible and perpetuating a legacy of national immaturity” through the nonrecognition of the Aboriginal people who fought invading colonial settlers of the British Empire.5 Aboriginal historian Henry Reynolds has demonstrated that frontier warfare was underway in Australia before and after World War I as colonial settlers extended their control over Aboriginal resources from the presumed coastal borderlands of Australia to noncolonised regions of the continent.6 These frontier wars are not mentioned in the Australian War Memorial, despite the institution’s principal historian arguing for their inclusion decades ago.7 While ignoring wars within the colonial space of Australia, the national memorial lists many instances of Australian troops engaging in warfare on the other side of the Indian Ocean rim, beginning with New South Wales forces fighting in 1885 as colonial troops in Sudan before the Australian federation in 1901.8 Australia’s coastal borders have also dictated what has been excluded from the Australian War Memorial, which constructs the official history of Australian warfare. Graham Seal has provided an extensive analysis of how Anzac and its diggers became the supreme national story of Australia through memorials, populist publishing, World War I history, the Returned Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Imperial League of Australia and the development of Anzac day as the dominant national observance.9 Seal argues that Australia’s establishment elites have supported the construction of a nationalist mythology serving their own interests. From the outset in 1915 this mythology seems to have relied on the representation of coastal places as dangerous borderlands of which Australians should be wary: The letter ‘B’ stood for being bombed on the beach in publications offering an Anzac alphabet for folks back home.10 Suvendrini Perera has demonstrated how Australian imagination has been limited and insulated through media representation of a community girt by sea.11 More recently, Perera has shown just how adaptable the fabrication of Australian territory can be in supporting morally ambivalent and culturally hostile, if not deadly state action towards people identified out of place in Australian waters.12 While the Australian state maintains a flexible and moving territorial border, it also fixes and fixates over the
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nation’s creation narrative in relation to engagement in overseas warfare. It is the emotionally invested embarkation, charge, death and return of the Australian soldier that is used by the government and its cultural contractors to render Australia real. However, for this story to work, the Australian soldier and his home community must be neatly divided from spaces or rationalities that could disrupt the reproduction of community frontiers around the emotion-laden references offered with Anzac commemoration. This is where the beach and waterfront come in as powerful symbolic places around which the borders of Australian identity have been constructed. Narrating stories of Australians on beaches and in coastal towns suggests both the sea and interior to be empty, uncontested and free for the taking. Rendering the sea mare nullius and the land terra nullius is integral to the policies of white Australia.13 This is the line in the sand by which Australia’s settler government divided Indian Ocean communities into citizens, natives and foreigners. Once the coastal edges were apparent, clearings could be constructed to support the Australian government’s claim of sovereignty over the continent and its vast undersea continental shelf. Arguably, this is why the beach has been constructed as the ultimate border for Australians.14 Besides being a place of pleasure,15 the beach is an invasion scene, a place of exclusion, racial division, vigilance and fear in Australian identity.16 In examining the apparent ease by which Anglo-settler homeland overwrites Aboriginal place, Rob Garbutt argues that the Australian sense of being local “depends on selectively forgetting settler migration while, paradoxically, maintaining a memory of first settlement.”17 This representation of places and people’s relation to them influenced the ways in which settlers came to see themselves as locals and Aboriginal people as “unwelcome guests.”18 In a study of concepts informing the processes through which settlers install themselves as local, Garbutt linked land clearing in heritage representation with a clearing of Aboriginal people from the discourse of Australian identity.19 Although Aboriginal people remain present, they cannot be seen in the clearing because they have been left outside or forgotten. It seems more fitting for “Dead Indians”20 to haunt settler colonial clearings than for “Live Indians”21 to make Aboriginal sovereignty claims within them.22 These clearings could be thought of as popular discourses policed and stabilised by colonial institutions making representations in Australian-place-linked public spheres, sometimes spooned – as this chapter argues – by the reflective sheen of an ocean. The centre-and-periphery form of these clearings has been profoundly shaped by the media technologies of print and wire that
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supported the expansion of the British Empire as well as the terrestrial broadcast technologies that have legitimised and stabilised nation states.23 The two Anzac books analysed by close reading below were purchased from bookshops in Perth and Albany, the two largest cities in the Aboriginal country of Nyoongar Boodja, known in Australian space as the southwestern region of Western Australia. British appropriation of Nyoongar Boodja began discursively with the naming of “King George the Third’s Sound” in 1791.24 Once presumed British, a naval outpost and residency was established there followed by construction of the town of Albany. However, the overwriting of Nyoongar country did not begin in earnest until 1828, when naval officer James Stirling lead a speculative group of capitalists seeking grants to coastal land in and around the towns he named “Fremantle” on the mouth of the Swan River and “Perth” further upstream.25 The eviction of Nyoongar people from the area commenced discursively through exploration cartography in London and continued as Stirling sailed across the Indian Ocean with his surveyors and the first batch of settlers. The British settlers ignored the land-occupation regulation and spatial organization of the invaded Aboriginal people, whose resistance to this social, economic and cultural disruption was met by extraordinary violence. The Colonial Office provided sufficient military resources for Stirling’s vast speculative property development project to proceed. In his settlement proclamation, Stirling asserted that he could grant British men of capital the occupation rights to all “unoccupied land” in the area.26 This assertion was problematised by Aboriginal people not recognising their own absence in the space being granted, so “wasteland” was adopted in the colony’s regulatory texts, legitimising land grants. Stirling’s assertion was also constrained by the Colonial Office in London, which wanted the capitalists to share coastal and riverfront access amongst themselves. The Colonial Office even overruled the allocation of coastal land that Stirling had arranged for himself at Fremantle (Walyalup in Nyoongar space) so that this land would be reserved for the “security, health or general convenience of the Public at large”.27 Heated arguments over what land should be granted for capitalist enterprise and what land should become public reserve tended to reinforce settler control of land by marginalising Nyoongar discussions of spatial organization.28 The constructed absence of Aboriginal country has been, and continues to be, legitimised by colonial-settler discourse and accompanying regulations that render Aboriginal people outside of settler colonial places and publics.29 This construction has been resisted by Aboriginal people negotiating a way around the clearings of Australian public spheres30 and
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finding ways to break through them with hard-to-ignore expressions such as the Aboriginal Tent Embassy or long and difficult court victories.31 In 2006, the Federal Court found that the land and waters in Nyoongar Boodja (including those in and around Perth and Albany) were subject to the native title of Noongar people.32 Upon appeal by the Western Australian government arguing successful genocide, the Southwest Aboriginal Land and Sea Council agreed to negotiate an out-of-court settlement.33 The government’s aim was “to recognise Nyoongah people as the traditional custodians and owners of the land, over which native title would, by agreement, be extinguished”.34 As media audiences watched the spectacle of police attempting to clear out Aboriginal resistance to the extinguishment of native title,35 Albany’s waterfront was being transformed (Figure 4.1) to place it at the forefront of the Anzac centenary project.36
Figure 4.1. Anzac Peace Park, Albany, Western Australia.37
Forging Australian Identity: Leaving and Coming Home to Albany In late 2014, Albany’s waterfront was centre stage in the opening act of the Anzac Centenary cultural project commemorating Word War I, the “crucible that forged our nation” according to then Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott.38 This was an expensive commemoration project lead by the national government and supported by major corporations. In launching the Anzac Centenary Public Fund, Abbott associated Australian war commemoration with big business, tax deduction and public education:
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I want to commend and congratulate and thank the businesses which have already pledged large amounts of money towards this fund: BHP Billiton, Woodside, the National Australia Bank, the Commonwealth Bank, the ANZ, Telstra, the AFL, Crown, Aurizon, Newscorp, Leightons, James Packer and LinFox. Lindsay, you have deployed your charisma in your own inimitable way to ensure that the Centenary of Anzac is not just supported by government to the tune of $150 million, but is supported by those big businesses which are the pillars of our economy. The beauty of this fund is that it enables everyone to contribute. It enables every Australian to make a contribution which everyone will be pleased to note is fully tax deductible. We want this to be not just a celebration by government. We want this to be a peoples’ celebration. We want the Australian people to own this in every sense. We want them to feel that they can make a contribution and as of today, they can. And thanks to the efforts of Lindsay Fox, there is already a substantial quantum of money there which will help to ensure that we do learn the right lessons over these next four years…39
Thanks to a massive government subsidy and corporate donations brought in by logistics magnate Lindsay Fox, Australians have started to “learn the right lessons.” beginning with representation of the Albany Convoy Commemorative Event held in Albany on the first weekend of November 2014.40 The event commemorated the 100th anniversary of the departure of the first convoy of ships that carried the Australian Imperial Force and the New Zealand Expeditionary Force from Albany across the Indian Ocean to join a larger British force for the failed invasion of Gallipoli in Ottoman territory. In Albany, at the edge of the Indian Ocean, an inversion can be identified in Australia’s celebration of national independence through the memory of being distinguished within an imperial invasion force41 rather than through the more typical memory – among neighbouring Indian Ocean nations – of a people’s struggle against forces of imperial domination. In preparing for the opening act in the Anzac centenary project, substantial projects were carried out to frame and enshrine a landscape of waterfront commemoration in Albany. Stephens argues that a business agenda helped drive these place-sacralising activities as the town aimed “to be the first port of call on any future seaborne pilgrimage to Gallipoli”.42 These activities included the publication and local sale of Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend,43 a coffee-table book compiled by a Perth-based company providing “creative solutions to branding, marketing communications and corporate design challenges”.44 Acknowledging Stephen’s conclusion that sacralising Albany’s waterfront
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suggests leaving Australia could be as important to the contemporary Anzac narrative as arriving on the shores of Gallipoli, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend is analysed below.45 To better understand how this book may deliver lessons, it is subject to close reading alongside an illustrated children’s book, The Beach They Called Gallipoli.46 The Gallipoli book seemed most similar to the Albany book among the Australian children’s books on sale around Anzac Day 2015 (Figure 4.2).
Figure 4.2. Top-shelf Australian children’s books in Dymocks, Garden City, Perth.47
The author of The Beach They Called Gallipoli, Jackie French, has been called “Australia's most popular children's writer”.48 French and the book’s illustrator, Bruce Whatley, have worked together on a dozen other popular picture books for children. The Gallipoli book is positioned as an educational text and its publisher HarperCollins, a multinational Englishbook-publishing subsidiary of News Corp, has provided corresponding Teacher’s Notes. The notes for teaching this book as part of a school curriculum include Whatley describing how he approached the dramatization work as if it were “a documentary in the form of a picture book”.49 Such blurring of the boundaries between documentary and dramatization may make representation of Australian borderlands more entertaining and commercially successful, but also supports a diversionary function of avoiding “any discussion or analysis of the structural contexts (including the political context) of the issues it presents.”50 These recent books on two different coastal places in the Anzac story offer similar images along a shared narrative structure. To better understand this
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imagery and narrative, every facing page of the Gallipoli book was compared and contrasted with the opening facing pages of corresponding sections in the longer Albany book. The covers of these books show soldiers and waterfronts. The front cover of The Beach They Called Gallipoli is an illustration of a young soldier with a bayonet rifle behind barbed wire at a beach cove, with sea in the middle ground and headland in the background. The soldier’s expression offers a determined fatalism or resignation. The back cover offers the same beach cove background and wire foreground, but the soldier has been replaced by a worn note surrounded in Anzac memorabilia. The note offers a blurb of the book highlighting “an almost forgotten aspect of Gallipoli: the land itself.” The central statement of the blurb offers “the story of Gallipoli as seen from the cove: The story of that beach where thousands died and legends were born.” The cover and contents of the book solicit a variety of emotional responses while rendering and naming the places it represents for Australian cultural memory. The cover of Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend is less emotionally appealing while fulfilling the same process. The front and back covers of the Albany book display two black-and-white photographs with soldiers in the foreground, ships and coast in the middle ground and the Indian Ocean beyond headland in the background. A third photograph on the back cover shows a waterfront with a long jetty in the foreground, a ship inside the headland in the middle ground and the Indian Ocean in the background. On the front cover of Albany, apparently healthy and happy soldiers march unarmed. Bagpipes, not bayonets, are on display for Albany. The opening pages of Gallipoli contain serene illustrations and blackand-white postcards suggesting fishing spots and a coastal community. The pages offer a tourist perspective of serene beaches and coastal activities on the Gallipoli Peninsular, not far from Constantinople. Of this beautiful day on April 23, 1915, the reader is told “seagulls swooped, the fish flapped silver in the nets.”51 Similarly, the Albany book opens with images of calm coastal places and a waterfront community illustrating “Albany Before the War–An Idyllic Australian Town.”52 From the ocean, the first British colonists sail into a royal empty space, apparently by God’s design. There are no Aboriginal place names in pre-war history or mention that Aboriginal people witnessed their arrival. Albany represents British space, a history of British settlers arriving as original inhabitants. From ocean to land, settler places are naturalised through a capitalist rationality of resource exploitation:
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Albany’s naturally formed deep and wide harbour, King George Sound, was the ideal location for the steady flow of interstate shipping and the whaling industry in the early settlement years. The town grew from the waterfront and prospered with the opening of the Great Southern Railway from Beverly to Albany in 1889, the expanding coal and timber industries, and the gold rush of the 1890s. At the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Albany had a population of approximately 4,500, surrounded by a large and productive rural area.53
The next facing pages of the Gallipoli book54 and Albany book section55 focus on the arrival of a fleet of battleships in 1915 and 1908 respectively. In the Gallipoli book, “the ships came” because Germany had surged across their borders creating a world war that “snatched and battered many places”. In the Albany book, a “Great White Fleet… chose to visit Albany to stock up on coal supplies” while steaming around the world “to impress the Japanese with America’s naval strength and keep any potential enemy at bay.” The arrival of “Sixteen United States battleships carrying 14,000 sailors” is represented as an important and memorable occasion for Albany through contribution to British involvement in the fleet.56 The visiting fleets appear, unopposed in these sections of both books, to secure Albany’s and Gallipoli’s places in Australian history. The next facing pages of Gallipoli show robust-looking Australian soldiers disembarking from a ship, landing in boats, calling friends to enlist and hiking along a coastal hilltop above red poppies on the sand.57 Without army uniforms, these images could suggest health and recreation: boating, beaching, friendship and hiking. Yet, on the far right of the facing pages, Ottoman soldiers appear fit and ready for war, both in a trench and disembarking from a boat. These images are accompanied by disturbing textual juxtaposition and a strained simile about flowers naturalising the human violence: Grey waves lapped bloodstained foam. The first feet touched the shore. Red flowers bloomed on the white sand, like spring blossoms on the hills above. One by one men scaled the heights… They fought, too scattered to be an army now.58
The sensual experience of coastal recreation and war has become part and parcel of the Anzac legend. The corresponding section in Albany, titled “An Alluring Health Resort,” shows visiting warships, a marching military band and beach recreation.59 The juxtaposed images and text create the historical truth of Albany not just as a reputable “health resort” but as a
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sensually experienced coastal place–a real place–within settler empire. Caption text about US Marines marching down Stirling Terrace from the Great White Fleet in 1908 sits beside body text on the healthy seaside resort: Offering fresh coastal air, cooler temperatures and healthy living, Albany welcomed visitors in the English tradition of trips to the seaside for rest convalescence and recreation… Local hotels offered a range of accommodation for visitors to the town. Other attractions included Merrick’s Empire Theatre…60
The next pages of Gallipoli show men working and huddling from mortar blasts that leave corpses in their wake.61 Besides horrific images, the page contains the photograph of a soldier astride a camel by the pyramids and a Gallipoli souvenir post card. Similarly, the text mixes the thud of mortars tearing “through cold earth and men” with rockets “like fireworks ripping up the night” that turn violence into spectacle. The pages offer fine lines between pain and pleasure in this story. In the next section of Albany, “War is Declared” and two propaganda posters are shown.62 Soldiers do their “bit,”63 heading into the inferno of war on one poster while an athletic man enjoys the sensation of surfing a wave on the other poster with the text: “But what about the men in the trenches”.64 Next to the surfer poster, the outbreak of war is described and popular Australian engagement in the war is reported to have emerged from a desire to overcome a lack of national esteem and community as well as from a drive to join an exciting, imperial adventure. The next pages of Gallipoli offer images of first-aid and suggestions of courage and compassion growing “in ragged dirt” as more ships brought men and “took back crumpled bodies, soldiers who sobbed in pain.”65 The next section of the Albany book titled “The Anzac Legend Begins,” focuses on the fun and comradeship of being a soldier in Albany while preparing to depart to Egypt for training before deployment in Gallipoli.66 This section shows ships coming and going from the Indian Ocean through King George’s sound and at harbour while working to humanise soldiers and celebrate their “Larrikin Spirit” – the joy of being in an unruly gang.67 The next pages of Gallipoli offer grim details of life in the trenches: a prone man with a rifle peering through wire; a blood red explosion; heavy guns being moved; bullets and shells; determined Ottomans soldiers looking over a trench wall and troops huddled while bandaging a wounded comrade.68 The next section of the Albany book shows a close up of Private Herbert Vincent Reynolds and extracts of his diary description of going to war and likely death for the chance of returning home to the
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“freedom of our own land”.69 Death and destruction are linked to the security of homeland in the narrative that describes Reynolds being hurt but not killed in the war, where he witnessed a “never-ceasing stream of severely wounded soldiers the ambulance corps carried day and night through heavy shellfire, severe cold and frequent gas attacks”.70 Extracts from the diary of Private Herbert Reynolds solicit emotional engagement with the Anzac story of leaving home to secure home: Albany viewed from the Harbour is a very pretty looking place… it was not very long before the coastline was disappearing from view below the horizon… We have bade ‘Good Bye’ to our homeland… and if any return it will be to enjoy the liberties and freedom of our own land in full security.71
Besides presenting colonial settlement as homeland to be defended from foreign tyranny, the diary extract offers support for Tony Abbott’s suggestion that Australia would be less of a nation if its soldiers had not sailed across the Indian Ocean for World War I.72 This representation of the Anzac legend is not merely about Australian involvement in war because, as demonstrated by Henry Reynolds, warfare was already ongoing in Australia as colonial settlers extended their control over Aboriginal peoples’ resources.73 Therefore, these texts suggest that it is not the act of imperial warfare so much as the act of engaging in imperial conflict outside of Australian space that provides “the right lessons” for Anzac centenary audiences.74 The dead-centre of the Gallipoli book is literally and figuratively just that. There are images of swollen corpses, grave markers, a shot-through canteen and a man peering up from the mud as he seems to dig a grave.75 The corresponding text describes a bleached land under a “gun-stained sky”. The Albany book contains a corresponding photographic section with black and white images of bleached, bleak landscapes and ships passing through the headland out into to the Indian Ocean.76 Both books offer readers a bleak silence, a lifeless moment. Humanity emerges in the following pages in both books. In Albany, humanity is represented by pictures of soldiers marching through the town, then the close up image and life story of the decorated Major Eric Samuel Everett, “one of Albany’s heroes”.77 These pages represent Albany as a place of heroes. In Gallipoli, humanity emerges in the form of heroes among the invading and invaded soldiers. But these heroes and their decorations are not linked to Ottoman or Turkish places, they are only explicitly linked to the British force’s places: “A land with few names had new names now: Anzac Cove… Apex Farm, and Lone Pine, forged by
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men who kept on going”.78 Ottoman heroes are included in the imagery but only English places are included in the text. The next pages of Gallipoli describe a deadly stalemate, while “men far away made decisions, altered lives”.79 The story is told by images of death, trench warfare and a massive gun while “men far away” are represented by men in suits, including an image of British Prime Minister David Lloyd George and Winston Churchill. This mix suggests disdain with the enduring imperial war while confirming that the war was foundational in the Australian nation building project. The Albany book does not offer a corresponding titled section, but its continuing photographic narrative offers a similar story of the war machine churning on without a local decision maker and ships carrying troops in and out of Albany for war.80 The next section of the Albany book announces “The War is over” below the photograph of a worn ship pulling into dock opposite an image of the “people of Albany” gathering at the town hall.81 The text describes the human losses and “a time to remember the ultimate sacrifice of those who gave their lives”82. In Gallipoli, the battle’s end is signified by the heading “RETREAT” and images of men leaving trenches for boats amid rocket fire and darkness.83 The next pages of Gallipoli solicit contemplation: “The beach lay empty, but for bones and blood and boxes... The dead rested underneath the sand”.84 This text is accompanied by portrait photographs of soldiers, presumably dead, and deserted earth with worn war paraphernalia, overlooked from a distant hill by Ottoman officers. The next section of the Albany book, titled “Padre White and the ANZAC Day Dawn Service”, features a Reverend on a hill looking across King George Sound, across from the image of a British-flag-waving crowd celebrating Armistice Day in Perth.85 The “Local Reverend” returns to Albany and begins to hold church services with annual war memorial acts at dawn annually from 25 April 1930. After the 1931 dawn service, Padre White “walked to the top of Mt Clarence to watch a boatman toss a wreath into King George Sound”.86 The text provides a reason for his behaviour: Having been to war, Padre White understood the need to honour the sacrifices made by the Anzacs and this is why he instigated Albany’s tradition of a dawn service to commemorate the storming of the beaches at Gallipoli on 25th April 1915.87
Having secured the town’s place in the Gallipoli story, Albany jumps forward 80 years and the photographs become colour in its following section, titled “Albany Today–A Tourist’s Delight”.88 The pages’ offering
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of deep blue sea, sound and civilisation is matched in Gallipoli by a blue sea and surrounding cove overlaid with a colour painting (or postcard) of the cove amid seagulls soaring and images of sailors, soldiers and civilians coming to graves to pay their respects to the dead. There do not seem to be any Ottoman people visiting graves over the decades: “1920… 1960… 2000…”.89 Offering a lesson in Anzac pilgrimage, people are described coming to this place “to weep, salute, to turn wood crosses into stone”.90 On its subsequent pages, Gallipoli’s pilgrimage on Anzac Day 2015 numbers ten thousand: “They stood on grassy hills or the sand, and they remembered…”91 Many are shown sitting around a lone pine. Images on these pages also include a soldier (similar to the one on the front cover), “The Trumpet Calls” propaganda poster (that also appears in Albany on page 31), war grave stones and other stone memorial objects. One sandstone wall bears a Turkish word and associates it with the place of Australian and New Zealand imperial troops: “Anzak Koyu” and “Anzac Cove”. Similar sandstone objects memorialising World War I also feature on page 59 of the Albany book, appearing as interesting tourist places. Amid this confidence in Albany at the tail end of the story, Aboriginal place names appear in the book. But rather than being associated with Nyoongar people, they appear as places for adventurous tourists coming from the settler place of Albany: Adventurous visitors will enjoy walking the Bibbulmun Track… the Munda Biddi Track… and the Porongurup Range… all offer visitors wonderful excursion opportunities from their base in Albany–a true tourist’s delight.92
Images of Albany as a “tourist’s delight” continue to be displayed until the last facing pages of the book where two people, one with two dogs, walk along the shore of today’s “peaceful and serene” King George Sound, backed by the Indian Ocean.93 The final facing pages of Gallipoli also display a beach.94 However, this illustration offers Anzac Cove as a place for visiting not just to find beach pebbles and shells but also, perhaps, to find soldiers’ graves and war memorabilia. The final pages of both books solicit memory of beach experience, perhaps associating a memory of pleasure with the story just told. Throughout Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend the Indian Ocean is a background sheen. Ships come and go into the ocean through King George Sound, but there are no Anzac interactions within the ocean, no mention of this fleet being provisioned in Ceylon, today’s Sri Lanka, or the Ceylon Planters Rifle Corps joining the Anzacs for the Gallipoli campaign.95 This elision may have something to do with World War I
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stimulating the Sri Lankan national independence movement which gained further momentum after British colonial authorities put down local unrest there in 1915 “with excessive zeal and brutality”.96 The Anzac story and its connection to Australian nationalism are less muddied without mention of a nationalist independence movement struggling against domestic violence within the British Empire during World War I. For readers of the Albany and Gallipoli books, the soldiers simply depart King George Sound – visit Egypt – then land heroically on a Gallipoli beach, engage in warfare then die in battle or come home to a secured home after the war experience. The Indian Ocean functions as a mare nullius backdrop that supports settler claims over terra nullius as an almost empty space awaiting the naturalised emergence of the settlers’ local places.
Reflecting On the Borderlands of Australian Space Coastal borderlands are a powerful symbolic resource in Australian cultural production. By analysing how the coast is represented in Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend alongside a popular children’s book apparently offering “the right lessons” in Australian memory,97 we can begin to see how the Indian Ocean is used to reflect a narrow inversion of what could otherwise be a more upright and inclusive picture of the history and structure of settler colonialism in Australia. First, the Indian Ocean background suggests a natural boundary to community, helping audiences to forget imperial and other communities operating across national borders as well as the community divisions within them. Disembarking across the Indian Ocean helps audiences to know that overseas warfare is locally relevant, which may also help them to forget local warfare. Anzac ships come and go from settler places, rendering settlers the authentic locals while forgetting Aboriginal peoples and their place relations. The oceanbacked Anzac story naturalises settler places, enabling Aboriginal places to appear after settlement and in relation to the people of settler places. Fighting to death for your side on the coast is naturalised and sacralised in Anzac representation despite the self-serving opportunities – through various geographies of investment – in reproducing a celebration of national independence by memorialising dependency through distinguished imperial service. By normalising Aboriginal absence in the clearings of settler colonial Australia, voices of Aboriginal people on land ownership and development rights tend to be neglected. Addressing this inadequacy in popular texts would, arguably, support an ethical horizon in the representation of coastal places that is hospitable to communities preceding, inhabiting and exceeding the mare nullius borderlands of the
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terra nullius space of settler-colonial Australia. Such a representation could enable the locals of colonial clearings to become more hospitable to the geographically coexisting spaces, places and people of other Indian Ocean communities.
Notes 1
This chapter was developed within a broader project, supported by a One-off Small Grant from Curtin University’s Humanities Research Support Program, with inspiration and advice from Associate Professor Daniel Keyes from the University of British Columbia. 2 Cochrane, Peter. 2015. “The Past is not Sacred: A Dangerous Obsession with Anzac,” Griffith Review 48: 13-24. 3 Brown, James. 2015. “Anzac Instincts: The Missing Modern Military Voice,” Griffith Review 48: 275. 4 Ibid., 272-281. 5 Wright, Clare. 2015. “Forgetting to Remember: Time to be Brave.” Griffith Review 48: 149-157. 6 Reynolds, Henry. 2013. Forgotten War. Chicago: University of New South Wales Press. 7 Wright, Clare. 2015. “Forgetting to Remember: Time to be Brave.” Griffith Review 48: 149-157. 8 Reynolds, Forgotten War. 9 Seal, Graham. 2004. Inventing Anzac: The Digger and National Mythology. St Lucia, QLD: University of Queensland Press. 10 Ibid., 25-26. 11 Perera, Suvendrini. 2009. Australia and the Insular Imagination: Beaches, Borders, Boats, and Bodies. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. 12 Perera, Suvendrini, 2015. “In Flight: Castaways and the Poetics of Survival.” Griffith Review 47. 288-298. 13 Balint, R. 2007. “Mare Nullius and the Making of a White Ocean Policy.” In Our Patch: Enacting Australian Sovereignty Post-2001, edited by Suvendrini Perera, 23-43. Perth: Network Books. 14 Perera, Australia and the Insular Imagination: Beaches, Borders, Boats, and Bodies. 15 Kerr, Thor. 2015. To the Beach: Community Conservation and its Role in ‘Sustainable Development’. Perth: UWA Publishing. 16 Perera, Australia and the Insular Imagination: Beaches, Borders, Boats, and Bodies. 17 Garbutt, Rob. 2011. Locals: Identity, Place and Belonging in Australia and Beyond. Oxford: Peter Lang, 5. 18 Rigoll, Mike. 2012. “6 Weeks Ago, Some Unwelcome Guests Arrived… In Our Ceiling.” The West Australian, March 24-25.
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Garbutt, Locals: Identity, Place and Belonging in Australia and Beyond. King, Thomas. 2013. The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America. Toronto: Anchor Canada, 53. 21 Ibid., 61. 22 Watson, I. 2007. “Aboriginal Sovereignties: Past, Present and Future (Im)Possibilities.” In Our Patch: Enacting Australian Sovereignty Post-2001, edited by Suvendrini Perera, 23-43. Perth: Network Books. 23 Volkmer, Ingrid. 2014. The Global Public Sphere: Public Communication in the Age of Reflective Interdependence. Cambridge: Polity Press. 24 Landgate. 2015. “Town names.” Accessed 3 March 2016, http://www0.landgate.wa.gov.au/maps-and-imagery/wa-geographic-names/namehistory/historical-town-names. 25 Statham-Drew, Pamela. 2003. James Stirling: Admiral and Founding Governor of Western Australia. Crawley, WA: University of Western Australia Press, 110140. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid., 424. 28 Kerr, To the Beach: Community Conservation and its Role in ‘Sustainable Development’. 29 Kerr, Thor and Shaphan Cox. 2013. Setting up the Nyoongar Tent Embassy: A Report on Perth Media. Perth: Ctrl-Z Press. 30 Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. 2011. “Virtuous Racial States: The Possessive Logic of Patriarchal White Sovereignty and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.” Griffith Law Review 20 (3): 641-658. 31 Foley, Gary, Schaap, Andrew and Edwina Howell, eds. 2014. The Aboriginal Tent Embassy: Sovereignty, Black Power, Land Rights and the State. Abingdon: Routledge. 32 Bennell v Western Australia (2006) FCA 1243. The spelling “Noongar” was used by the court in its ruling. 33 Kelly, Glen. 2012. “Offer from the State of WA to Settle Native Title Claims in the SW.” South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council. http://www.noongar.org.au/images/pdf/forms/LettertoallSWALSCmembers.pdf. 34 Hansard. 2012. “Native Title Offer”. South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council. http://www.parliament.wa.gov.au/Hansard%5Chansard.nsf/0/cbf047d5815da5d54 8257af70020092d/$FILE/A38 S1 20120221 p8c-10a.pdf. 35 Kerr and Cox, Setting Up the Nyoongar Tent Embassy: A Report on Perth Media. 36 Stephens, John R. 2014. “Sacred Landscapes: Albany and Anzac Pilgrimage.” Landscape Research 39 (1): 21-39. 37 Photograph by author on 15 July 2015. 38 Abbott, Tony, 2013. “Address at the Anzac Centenary Public Fund Launch.” Prime Minister of Australia The Hon Tony Abbott MP. Accessed 15 April 2015, http://www.pm.gov.au/media/2013-12-12/address-anzac-centenary-public-fundlaunch. 39 Ibid. 20
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40 Department of Veterans’ Affairs. n.d. “Albany Convoy Commemorative Event: 31 October - 2 November, 2014.” Anzac Centenary. http://www.anzaccentenary.gov.au/program/acce.htm. 41 Abbott, Tony, 2013. “Address at the Anzac Centenary Public Fund Launch”. 42 Stephens, “Sacred Landscapes: Albany and Anzac Pilgrimage”, 24. 43 Bonser, Phil. 2014. Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend. Subiaco, WA: Churchill Press. 44 Bonser Design, n.d.. “Who We Are.” http://www.bonserdesign.com.au/. 45 Stephens, “Sacred Landscapes: Albany and Anzac Pilgrimage”. 46 French, Jackie and Bruce Whately. 2014. The Beach They Called Gallipoli. Sydney: HarperCollins. 47 Photograph by author on 26 April 2015. 48 Wells, Kathryn. 2013. “Australian Children’s Books.” Australian Government. http://www.australia.gov.au/about-australia/australian-story/austn-childrens-books. 49 Sheahan-Bright, Robyn. 2014. “Teacher’s Notes.” Sydney: HarperCollins. Accessed 4 June 2015. 50 Hughes, Peter. 2010. “Governmentality, Blurred Boundaries, and Pleasure in the Docusoap Border Security,” Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 24 (3): 443. 51 French, and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 1-2. 52 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend. , 4-5. 53 Ibid. 54 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 3-4. 55 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 22-23. 56 Ibid. 57 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 5-6. 58 Ibid. 59 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 24-25. 60 Ibid. 61 French and Whately The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 7-8. 62 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 28-29. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid. 65 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 9-10. 66 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend. Subiaco, 32-33. 67 Ibid. 68 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 11-12. 69 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 36-37. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Abbott, Tony, 2013. “Address at the Anzac Centenary Public Fund Launch”. 73 Reynolds, Forgotten War. 74 Abbott, Tony, 2013. “Address at the Anzac Centenary Public Fund Launch”. 75 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 13-14. 76 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend. , 38-39.
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Ibid., 42-43. French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 15-16. 79 Ibid., 17-18. 80 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 44-47. 81 Ibid., 48-49. 82 Ibid. 83 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 19-20. 84 Ibid., 21-22. 85 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 50-51. 86 Ibid. 87 Ibid. 88 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 52-53. 89 French and Whately, The Beach they Called Gallipoli, 23-24. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid., 25-26. 92 Bonser, Albany at the Dawn of the Anzac Legend, 56. 93 Ibid., 60-61. 94 French and Whately, The Beach They Called Gallipoli, 27-28. 95 Smith, Neil. 2014. The Empire’s Other Anzacs: The Ceylon Planters Rifle Corps. Brighton, Victoria: Mostly Unsung Military History Research and Publications. 96 U.S. Library of Congress. n.d. “World War I.” http://countrystudies.us/srilanka/18.htm. 97 Abbott, Tony, 2013. “Address at the Anzac Centenary Public Fund Launch”. 78
CHAPTER FIVE HERITAGE AND PROTEST AT THE GUILDFORD HOTEL JOHN STEPHENS
This chapter explores the political and heritage issues surrounding the ruin of a well-known hotel in the Guildford community in Western Australia. In the early hours of 1 September 2008 a fire broke out in the heritagelisted Guildford Hotel (built in 1886), extensively damaging the building and destroying an iconic belvedere that marked a busy traffic corner. Next day the hotel’s co-owner, businessman Dominic Martino, declared that he would “get it back up and running again” and indicated that the hotel would re-open with “everything back together.”1 The fire brigade officers attending the blaze indicated that the police arson squad would be on site to determine the cause. Reinforcing community expectations that the building would be restored, Premier Alan Carpenter reiterated the importance of the place as Western Australian heritage and said that the government would consider supporting its restoration.2 However community expectations were not matched by what transpired. Five years elapsed before any repairs were started on the hotel. During this time the damaged hotel was exposed to weather, and deterioration of the remaining fabric motivated protest from a community anxious that the owners and government – for various reasons – were provocatively delaying conservation works and that the place might eventually be lost to demolition and new development. As discussed in this chapter, heritage can be seen as essentially intangible and the heritage of the Guildford Hotel viewed as a product of a cultural performance of protest. Heritage is what goes on at places rather than the tangible aspects of place itself. As Larajane Smith argues, heritage places are not inherently “heritage” and do not carry fundamental meanings.3 In her view a building such as the Guildford Hotel is “just a building” and not inherently valuable. What makes a place such as the Guildford Hotel treasured heritage are the “present day cultural processes
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and activities that are undertaken at and around them and of which they become a part.”4 Only then does physical material become symbolic of specific cultural and social events that give it meaning. This view is contrary to a popular interpretation of heritage that privileges the physical and aesthetic aspects of a site leading to the conservation of a place as a “thing” rather than a place that is the product of a cultural and social process “that work to create ways to understand and engage with the present.”5 The community’s campaign to ensure that the severely damaged hotel was returned to them in the face of stiff resistance from developers raises questions about why and how communities go to great lengths to protect their cultural environment. This chapter examines the hotel and the situation surrounding its predicament as a beloved place that engendered emotions of loss and nostalgia. Forms of protest action at the site from 2008 to 2014 were liminal acts of rebellion driven by reflective nostalgia that empowered the community in the face of apparently powerless heritage laws and a seemingly indifferent political process. This chapter argues that the performance of protest at the hotel (as a cultural process) has shaped the way that the place is seen as heritage outside its authorised value as a state heritage place. To understand the context in which the above takes place, this chapter will first discuss the idea of heritage and community, canvasing current thinking which forms a critique of the way popular heritage is understood and offering possible ways that heritage and community interact. Following this is an exploration of how the Guildford community came to protest the dereliction of the place and how their forms of protest defined the heritage meaning of the hotel in an alternative way to state sanctioned meanings as determined by heritage professionals.
Heritage and Community Isar et. al. see heritage as part of the triad “heritage, memory and identity” which unite to emphasise cultures and “ways of life”:6 As different human groups define certain objects and practices as ‘heritage’; as they envisage heritage to reflect some form of collective memory, either lived or imagined; and as they combine both to construct composite cultural identities, the potency of the triad become evident.7
This is an embracing view of heritage that points out the complexities and difficulties of its definition and practice. In recognition of complexity
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Stuart Hall considers that “we should think of The Heritage as a discursive practice” where “The Heritage” is an overarching understanding of heritage as something more than just a cultural history.8 Waterton and Watson describe the present politics of heritage as broadly split into two camps. One focuses on the physical and material aspects of heritage and is concerned with “what conventionally constitutes heritage.” Another is intent on understanding the cultural processes that drive heritage, using the methodologies of “critical social science” to analyse heritage matters. 9 Regular definitions of heritage are often simplified into “what we inherit from the past and value enough today to leave for future generations.” 10 This has led to a situation where the material aspects of a heritage object are considered of prime importance at the expense of intangible aspects, which are “grafted” onto the physical if considered at all. Conventional understanding of heritage in Australia is embedded in practice championed by the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) and the Burra Charter, which outlines heritage practice – primarily how places are to be assessed and conserved according to a statement of cultural significance defined by values such as aesthetic, historic, scientific, social, rarity, integrity, authenticity and representativeness.11 A statement of significance addresses the issue of why a place is important and deserves to be conserved. Further development at the place must take heed not to damage that significance. Most often, heritage professionals devise statements of significance. Waterton and Watson and others have critiqued this process, arguing that the current profession driven heritage practice is problematic. Experts have the power and authorisation to interpret heritage places, which are “shorn of anything other than professional or aesthetic meanings” – a process that could marginalise communities in the identification and interpretation of their heritage.12 Currently, heritage is mediated through professional discourse in powerful organizations, the state “and by culturally conditioned deference to professional expertise.”13 Intangible heritage is another casualty of the current focus on materiality in heritage and has struggled to find a foothold in the conventional. Often intangible heritage is seen as “stories” that somehow attach to or inhabit places.14 However this interpretation is problematic. As Isar et. al. advance “intangible heritage is essentially repertoire embodied, manifested and transmitted in performance; it is not documented in an archive.”15 Stories documented are not (in this view) intangible heritage but a representation, a “materialization of the immaterial.”16 It is this performance aspect of heritage (rather than just the material) that is interesting as a key feature of how the saga of the Guildford Hotel
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played out – especially in protest. Smith sees heritage as essentially “intangible,” although she is at pains to say that there are strong associations between the cultural process of heritage and the physical place and that materiality also plays a role.17 Weerasinghe further clarifies this by describing heritage as a living thing and “the way or manner that people think about and communicate with a place … is signified as heritage.”18 Elizabeth Crooke perceives community and heritage as vague and elusive concepts that are conjoined in particular ways. Heritage provides the structures “to define a community by its customs, language, landscape, history, artefacts and monuments.”19 In this context heritage and community are in constant negotiation to reconceptualise each other. While a popular definition of community may mean a group of people with a shared set of values or beliefs – usually as relatively homogeneous communities of interest – a more robust and critical idea regards communities as far more heterogeneous and full of “disruptive energies.” 20 Communities are not consensual and are constantly reconstructed through power, engagement and experience. Present notions of community as homogeneous dominate the heritage sector – a dangerous situation where difference is denied and homogeneity assimilates the marginal, legitimising some heritages and denying others.21 Crooke’s conceptualisation of heritage and community entwine each into a “lived experience and expression of community.”22 “The community group is defined and justified because of its heritage and that heritage is fostered and sustained by the creation of community.” 23 In this view equilibrium between need and gain supports the construction and experience of community. Furthermore, meanings are emotive, dynamic and diverse and can be interpreted and valued in many ways. As Crooke also points out, heritage matters in communities are usually championed by an active elite “who assume leadership and defend cultural markers.” 24 These then draw other members together and manage narratives in an attempt to control the identity of the community, as caring of their heritage, and as a “community.” In this case it was the Save the Guildford Hotel Action Group (SGHAG) that controlled “community” narratives. Primarily this was through two salient mechanisms: the ephemeral spaces of a Facebook page and the continuous physical presence of graffiti, banners and socks (Figure 5.3). When discussing the Guildford community it is difficult to separate those who lived in the district from other protagonists who also laid claim to protest about the hotel or indicated support through direct action or mere comment. Nor are reliable figures available for how many people
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were actually engaged in protest. It was the small elite cluster of the SGHAG that provided a central and effective leadership for the protest. In this context “community” is taken to mean the wider community of people (not necessarily from Guildford) who protested with banners, socks and graffiti and those who commented on Facebook or through petition or on radio and television. Jenny Gregory shows that Facebook communities are legitimate “emotional” communities that “can be utilised to generate the social capital needed to mobilise against the destruction of heritage buildings and places.”25 Discussion of the Facebook page run by the SGHAG and its part in protest is covered later in the chapter. However, there are sometimes ethical concerns relating to “consent, traceability and the loss of confidentiality” when using Facebook data, although the Save the Guildford Hotel page is “open” to global public comment and – as Gregory observes – Facebook content aligns with Letters to the Editor and other in-print media content already established in academic research as an open and legitimate resource.26 However, because this community may not understand the nature of public comment and to avoid potential ethical hurdles, codes have been used instead of names.
Guildford Guildford was originally established as market town in 1830 at a significant bend in the Swan River that flows from the Darling Ranges through the City of Perth to the port of Fremantle on the coast. The Swan was significant for the survival of the early Swan River colony in providing a ready transport route for goods and people to and from Fremantle. Guildford (planned in 1829) developed from a need for a port and administrative centre close to up-river farming that would have direct river transport to Perth and thence to Fremantle and markets beyond. Guildford was planned as an English village with a “green” as a central organising feature around which public facilities were placed. The nineteenth century townscape origin of Guildford is significant as this is an aspect of the place that has helped to define its patterns of development and cultural identity – unique among towns in Western Australia. As a rural settlement Guildford prospered. Initially it was a market town where farmers’ produce could be gathered and sent downriver, avoiding the arduous journey by track through the bush to Perth. Later it became a key place in the Yilgarn gold boom of the late nineteenth century. Guildford was on the direct traffic route to the goldfields to the east and flourished because of the trade bought by travellers to and from
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the goldfields. Built in 1885 and sited on the corner of James and Johnson Streets, the Guildford Hotel was a simple two-storey construction of brick with a verandah facing James Street. The second phase of the Guildford Hotel development came in 1915 when the front of the hotel was remodeled in a late version of the flamboyant gold boom architectural style, featuring frontage to both streets and a conspicuous and elaborate belvedere on the corner. Guildford’s period of great prosperity continued until the advent of war in 1914-1918 and the Great Depression that followed. Most of the town’s historic fabric was constructed prior to 1930 after which the town went into economic decline as a rural centre while many farms and rural industries failed.27 The fortunes of Guildford did not recover and it largely remained an economic backwater ignored by the housing and commercial development of Perth. Consequently the current housing and commercial building stock retains a character essentially unchanged from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The pattern of development in Guildford has been of sole houses on single lots giving the place a distinctly domestic and “historic” character. It is this quiet, almost genteel character that has attracted many to settle in the numerous large houses and simple cottages that line the river and streets of the town. People move into the place as an older suburb that offers the joys of house restoration.
Community A recent survey of Guildford residents in 2015 shows that Guildford’s population has a median age of 42 which is higher than the Western Australian average of 36.28 Most people in this Anglo-centric community are employed in professions or as managers and administrative workers. Most own their own home denoting that a great majority have put down roots and possibly have a stake in the future of the area. About half have a tertiary education, pointing to a population with greater tools and propensity for activism. The survey found that up to 90 percent of the population supported the preservation of heritage buildings as public places and were upset that private building owners were unwilling or unable to maintain buildings in a fit condition. However, the survey also showed that only half of the population was willing to become active in the preservation of the town’s heritage and that the historic character of the area was a most highly valued aspect of the town.29 Many people in the district or from out of town had memories or connections with the Guildford Hotel. David Ravine’s father was a railway worker and his family had many associations with the place. The place
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was important to Guildford people as significant family events such as weddings were often held there.30 Others such as “A” from outside the area knew the hotel as a good spot for a drink or a meal.31 Truck driver “B” also frequented the hotel for a drink: “I used 2 enjoy a beer in the Guilford pub when I was running darwin to perth I was disappointed earlier this year when I saw it…it is a lovely old pub a.nd should b restored 2 its full glory” [sic].32
Figure 5.1. The Guildford Hotel façade after the fire.33
Some people posted on the Facebook page about family connections to Guildford and the pub: “My great grandfather used to go there. My father was born in Guildford in 1906, I lived in Guildford as an adult and loved just being in such an amazing old building…”34 Previous owners were devastated at its condition after the fire (Figure 5.1): “An absolutely tragedy to watch this beautiful building crumble before our eyes. My family owned this icon for 20 years but didn't consider ourselves ‘Owners’ merely caretakers for future generations to marvel at the architecture of our early pioneers. Such a damn shame.”35 For others there were intimate connections: “It's the pub that saw my beautiful wife and I confess our love to each other. Please save the Guildford!”36
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The Fire After the fire, the Heritage Council was notified because the building was on the State Heritage Register and protected under the Heritage of Western Australia Act 1990. Five months later, sections of the Guildford community became concerned that winter rains could further damage the place. The co-owner responded that they were seeking advice on how to proceed with the building and at a public meeting in March tried to allay their fears, though suggested that demolition was still an option. Concerned about this, community leaders met with the Heritage Council who agreed to commission an independent structural assessment. However, the resulting report by the engineers Wood and Grieve was not released to the community who requested it on two separate occasions.37 Amid growing public disquiet over the possible damage that a second winter might bring to the remaining structure and fittings, Heritage Minister John Castrilli publicly bemoaned the lack of progress at the hotel site and hoped that a roof would be forthcoming by the end of the 20092010 summer.38 In the same newspaper report, the owner claimed that a dispute with his insurance company over compensation for the fire had been almost resolved and that plans would be drawn up in the following months – a promise that dragged on over most of 2010 with various delays to do with “safety work” and “red tape.” By this time the SGHAG had growing concern that the delays were deliberate. Further suspicions were aroused when the owners requested their own structural report from Structerre Engineers who apparently advised that the place did not need a roof for another two years. Under further public pressure, Minister Castrilli met with the hotel owners to outline his concerns but declared that he could not compel them to re-roof the building under the present law. Soon after, the community obtained a copy of the original structural report on the hotel through the Freedom of Information (FOI) laws and noted with alarm that the original 2009 report had said that a roof was essential to prevent deterioration of the structure (Figure 5.2). By this time the phrase “demolition by neglect” had gained strong currency in the debates that raged over the hotel’s fate. This term had been coined to describe situations where owners of heritage properties would neglect the maintenance of buildings with the eventual outcome that the structure was impossible to restore and they could be demolished under certain sections of the Heritage of Western Australia Act 1990.39
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Figure 5.2. The rear of the fire-damaged Guildford Hotel.40
Protests At this point in time, community disquiet turned to overt action. In this context, the community was represented by SGHAG, which emerged soon after the fire, led by a small group of active community members. The group also ran a long lasting Facebook page,41 which kept the community at large up to date with developments and actions as well as providing a forum to discuss and vent their anxieties and frustrations. SGHAG was able to mobilise considerable public pressure and was joined by another local and influential interest group, the Guildford Association, in ventures such as lobbying the Minister for Heritage. However, they were at odds over whether it was preferable to adapt the place for the future as guided by the ICOMOS Burra Charter (championed by SGHAG) or to return the hotel to its exact condition before the fire (promoted by the Guildford Association). Concerned that the owners were unnecessarily delaying protection for the hotel, SGHAG called for a public protest rally on 14 August 2010. Reportedly over 1,000 people attended from the local and adjacent districts and 900 signatures were gathered for a petition to Parliament for
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action on the restoration of the hotel. The rally was attended by the Opposition Heritage Spokesperson Michelle Roberts, a Heritage Minister in a previous government, who promised that a Labor government would consider taking action. The temporary wire mesh safety fence that surrounded the hotel became a billboard with signs proclaiming the hotel’s significance to the community and its predicament. Old socks also began to appear on the fence (Figure 5.3). The fence bordered the hotel boundary on James and Johnson Streets, both major traffic arteries, and as the signs and growing number of socks were seen by thousands of motorists each day the protest was very effective and never out of the public eye.
Figure 5.3. Sock protest outside the fire-damaged Guildford Hotel.42
A second rally was held three months after the first at which a petition with 5,986 signatures was presented to the Shadow Minister for Heritage, John Hyde, who tabled it in Parliament soon after. The co-owner was also at the rally with his press secretary and spoke to the crowd reiterating his previous commitment to restoring the hotel. Tellingly, Hyde indicated that the laws relating to heritage and neglect needed to be strengthened – a situation that has apparently been addressed in the current proposed new state heritage legislation.43 Over 2011-2015 period the community kept pressure on the owners and government. Progress to protect and restore the hotel moved glacially
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and the “Guildford Hotel Redevelopment Project” was beset by problems relating to planning and approvals as well as stalled development applications. The community judged that the owners were dragging their feet unnecessarily and “banner fairies” continued to place banners on the fence which expressed their displeasure. A third rally in February 2013 further cemented community sentiment that the hotel should be roofed and restored to use. At this rally a local politician was heckled over government inaction and it was suggested that the government buy the site and develop it itself. Finally in late 2014 the community met with the Heritage Minister (now Albert Jacob) to satisfy themselves that the building was at last receiving attention and was to be reused as a hotel. By this time, however, much material that the fire had left untouched was destroyed by weather exposure. From November 2010 the SGHAG moderated a Facebook page devoted to the hotel and its predicament advocating direct action though the use of banners and socks as a form of protest. The page proved a rallying point for many in the community to vent their feelings regarding the lack of action over the hotel and as a platform for SGHAG to drive a well orchestrated campaign. A prominent member of the group, David Ravine, indicates that the page had to be closely watched for “inflammatory articles and opinion.” At one time those posting comments had to be reminded about the laws regarding libel when conversation became heated and libellous.44 Vituperation against the building’s owners and the Minister for Heritage was particularly vigorous. Over the five years of the Facebook page’s life there were approximately 1,700 postings on various topics – particularly from people with past association with the hotel, or topics discussing who had started the mysterious fire, the state of the building and the need for reroofing, perceived government and owner inaction in protecting the building, alleged greed of the owners, fears that it would be bulldozed, graffiti and protest through banners and socks. Usefully, the Facebook page shows how politics and community interest in the hotel gradually built from 2010 to a crescendo in 2014 when development finally started at the site. Activity follows an upward trend – 70 posts in 2011, 214 posts in 2012, 512 posts in 2013 and 858 posts in 2014. Approximately 1 percent of all posts were from SGHAG and the group initiated most topics discussed. Very few comments favoured the destruction of the hotel, possibly because they were moderated out of the page. As discussed earlier, Facebook places can be “emotional communities” with shared values and it is clear that most participants did feel that the situation was an outrage, felt loss in some instances and held opinions that they wanted to be heard. 45 While the population of those
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engaged with the Facebook site were more or less homogeneous in terms of the essential aim of saving the hotel, the “community” was split between those who wanted the hotel preserved and returned to its original state without any additional development and those who had more moderate views and would welcome some adaption and interpretation of the building. 46 However, there was a widespread fear that any inappropriate development would signal the end of historic Guildford, as it would possibly open the floodgates for multi-story development in the district at the cost of heritage buildings and/or their settings.
Nostalgia, Heritage and Protest Many posts on the Facebook page objected to the dereliction of the building as a symbol of powerlessness and loss and sometimes anger at officialdom or the owners of the building. For some it left a hole in the landscape and identity of Guildford: “This hurts my eyes and it breaks my heart every time I have to go past the beautiful old dame!!!”47 “I so miss having this beautiful landmark in my neighbourhood! I just hate walking past or driving past it everyday now – it makes me so sad! Praying for a miracle!![sic]”48 “What a beautiful looking pub it was, its sad to drive past & see it as it stands now!”49 For ‘I’ it “was one of my watering holes in my younger days. Shame to see it in such a state”50 Visitors to Guildford also commented on the loss: “I really miss seeing this when I go to visit my Nanna.”51 Nostalgia arises from the destruction of environments and is allied to the image that people carried with them of “the place that was.” 52 Considered in past times as a type of disease – a pain from being away from home – nostalgia is now often theorised as a positive rather than regressive force. Pickering and Keightley describe the popular notion of nostalgia as a composite of “loss, lack and longing” and the conceptual opposite of progress – a yearning for the past as a foil to progress’s enthusiastic longing for the future.53 Modernists saw nostalgia as affective response to rapid change, resistance to progress and the enemy of the idea of a rational society. However, there is growing literature arguing that the concept of nostalgia has been trivialised and should be elevated to a more positive role, reconfigured from a simple desire to return to an idealised past to a recognition of “aspects of the past as the basis for renewal and satisfaction in the future.”54 Idealised longing may be productive and garner valuable dialogue with the past. Nostalgia can also be positive as viewed through a fear of social amnesia, which drives an interest in the past. Considering
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nostalgia as a feature of an amnesiac culture is to miss the point of it as a stimulus to memory. Recognition of “the existence of multiple nostalgias– some productive and socially useful and others less so” provokes a more complex understanding of the past.55 Bonnet also sees value in treating nostalgia as a positive force. Emphasising the emotional aspects of nostalgia, he considers it to be a positive resistance and challenge to “political transformation.”56 In other studies, the term “productive nostalgia” has emerged as a lived form of nostalgia rather than one purely of imagination. Alison Blunt describes this through the complex interplay of memory and identity in attempts by Anglo Indians to create a “home” in the Indian state of Bihar. 57 Reinforcing nostalgia’s relationship to narrative, Susan Stewart locates nostalgia as “a loss” where nostalgia is a form of repetitive narrative that has a utopian origin that is “always absent.” Nostalgia is an ideal that has a lack of “fixity and closure: nostalgia is the desire for desire.”58 Nostalgia is allied to the emotion of loss where it is “a sentiment of loss and displacement.”59 In the case of the Guildford Hotel, its loss and the displacement that resulted from its destruction invoked an image of a beloved object that was at once injured and an object of longing. Boym argues that nostalgia does not always have to be about the past; it can be prospective as well as retrospective where “fantasies of the past determined by the needs of the present have a direct impact on the realities of the future.”60 Boym proposes that retrospective nostalgia may lead to a reactionary effect that cuts off attempts to reconcile the past and the future. She cites the case of nationalist cultural forms that ape the past in an attempt to recover past glory as an example. In contrast, prospective nostalgia is more positive as it embraces the past through present and future use – adaptive reuse of cultural heritage places is advanced as an example of the use of this type of nostalgia. Bonnet believes that this sort of partitioning of nostalgia into “acceptable, progressive forms and unacceptable conservative forms” is dangerous.61 While open to active efforts to provide an understanding of nostalgia he sees hazards in trying to deal with the affecting aspects of a place or object in such an instrumental way and he advances his own view of nostalgia as a more general “inevitable, and constitutive presence within modernity.”62 There is no doubt that emotion is one area that may defy instrumental understandings. However, in Boym’s hypothesis above there is no actual division – merely a scale of possibilities for a reactionary or prospective view of a particular nostalgia. Emotion is not excluded from this understanding and indeed underpins it as stimuli for action at any point in the spectrum that Boym suggests.63 This, in my view, makes sense
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of conflicting sentiments of nostalgia for the hotel and its possible future as a place restored to public use. In the above context nostalgia is an agency for the restoration of the hotel and its reuse in the present. It was clear all along that most in the community felt complete restoration was never an economic option and that there would always be a compromise in adaption, especially since so much fabric was destroyed in the fire. In accordance with the authorised view of heritage, any future development or adaption would still need to maintain as much fabric as possible regardless of the form of development. However, if heritage can be conceived as something performed, then this cultural act was encased in a narrative about the future of the hotel and its future use in the community. In this case the nostalgic agencies that drove the protest were reflective and prospective and they advocated a conflation of the past and the future. In this context nostalgia was an agent through which the cultural performance of protest was enacted.
Banners and Socks The public was encouraged to place banners and socks to signify that the state of the place was unacceptable: “…the socks are the community's way of telling the owners and the Government that the situation ‘stinks’ or, more politely, ‘is on the nose’.64 When the authorities removed the socks, a banner went up the next day proclaiming, “Missing 5000 socks, 1 Roof – Reward 4 return of roof. [sic]” 65 The socks were soon clandestinely replaced. Each day, thousands of residents and travellers (by road and train) were treated to a constant array of banners placed illegally by the SGHG and sympathisers. These were displayed on the security fence and scaffolding and announced to the public at large the condition of the building and other salient aspects of the struggle to save the building and were reproduced on the Facebook page to inspire comment. Common themes were that the owners had not attempted to secure the site from the elements and were waiting for the building to be too ruined to conserve or that the government was dragging its feet. Some simply read “Rain = Ruin”66 or “another winter of our discontent.”67 Others aligned the banner message with particular events such as Easter or Mother’s Day: “Carpenter needed for Easter miracle”; 68 “Mothers Day wishlist, flowers, chockies, ROOF”;69 “Australia Day 2014 – nothing to be proud of at the Guildford Hotel.” At times banners made direct reference to the owners and government with “please stop playing Humpty Dumpty with our heritage”70 and “2000 days and too many excuses.”71 Some, such as the
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Humpty Dumpty themed banner, also contained rudimentary drawings that punctuated the message. Others attempted humour with one sign aping an official security sign on the fence saying “Danger Falling Material” with “Danger Falling Morale.”72 Alongside this was a sophisticated sign saying “Security warning, this area is under 24 hour public surveillance, procrastinators will be prosecuted.” 73 In 2013 a banner appeared with reference to the birth of Prince George to Prince William and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge with “To the Royal Baby – May there always be a roof over your head – Love from the Guildford Hotel xxx.”74 Despite the crudeness of many of the banners the campaign was very sophisticated and was constantly reviewed in media of all kinds over the 2010-2014 period. As a form of cultural performance the act of displaying the banners demonstrated that the community valued the place and that it should have a viable future. Another aspect of the protest for the restoration and reuse of the hotel was the cultural performance of tying the socks to the fence. The wire mesh safety fence that enclosed the whole site marked the boundary between the everyday public world and the deteriorating world of the injured building. Passage beyond the fence was trespass, although few took notice of this and vandals were free to wander and vandalise, adding to community distress. Permeable or not, the fence was emblematic of community disempowerment and a key element in an act of protest with multi layered symbolic functions. Screens such as the wire mesh fence have functions other than preventing trespass. Sturken describes a screen as “…a surface that is projected upon; it is also an object that hides something from view, that shelters or protects. Freud’s screen memory functions to hide highly emotional material, which the screen memory conceals while offering itself as a substitute.”75 In this light, the fence became a place to project narratives of community sentiment. It was more than just a convenient space to hang the accoutrements of protest; it offered the opportunity to neutralise its role as a symbol of disempowerment by layering it with narratives in the form of banners and socks through acts that were liminal and rebellious. Eisenstadt notes that amongst other things, culture can be understood as a “set of expressive symbols of ethos – a world view constructed through human interaction.”76 In this idea of culture there is a relationship between the “order-maintaining” processes; including mechanisms for legitimising and consensus, and “order-transforming” processes that seek to transform and innovate. The boundary between the two is fluid and arbitrary with constant feedback between each, which shifts the
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relationship between these two processes having transformative effects on the status quo. Order-transforming functions of culture are often associated with rebellion, “anti-structure” and communitas, which is manifest in ritual and protest. However, through a feedback loop this rebellious behavior is as much a culturally constructed behavior as the social and cultural patterns against which people are rebelling. Eisenstadt maintains that this fluid boundary defines the symbolic boundaries of “personal and collective identity” and that rebellious patterns of behaviour develop to push those boundaries. Rebellion, manifest in the rituals of protest, is liminal.77 Turner and Turner conceived bonding in a ritual as a luminal state amongst a group of people to be “communitas.”78 Places that are the focus for community ritual and ceremony must support and evoke communitas amongst participants to be successful.79 Taking note of the Turners’ work on communitas,80 Eisenstadt defines liminality as “seemingly unstructured situations ‘in between’ more structured ones, and symbols of anti-structure and communitas” – often associated with unruly behaviour.81 Regardless of discontent and unruly behaviour these are structured and socially and culturally regulated although they may seem spontaneous. They are often the result of an ambivalence and anxiety that cannot be overridden by the prevailing social order. In the context of the sock fence the liminal aspects of performance was not only an act of protest and emotion but also of ritual and transformation. In this case the “transformation” was one that helped to build and enhance the “emotional community” that formed in the protest community.
Heritage as an Emotional Community of Place It is clear that the Guildford community had an emotional investment in the hotel that can be measured by their reaction to the dereliction of the hotel and the prospect of loss through “demolition by neglect” and apparent political inaction. The response to the threat of the loss of a beloved object was also played out in the wider population that either knew the hotel from previous association or at least passed by its burnt out shell in their daily travels over five years, witnessing the changing parade of banners and graffiti that proclaimed the hotel’s ongoing predicament. Nostalgia plays a significant part in the protest for the retention of the hotel. As shown, nostalgia is “not confined to trivialised mass representations or sentimentalised expressions of regret and yearning for times past” but is more composite “and covers a range of ways of orienting to and engaging the past.” 82 In this context, and if we think of heritage as a discursive
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practice, the performance of protest forms one aspect of a collective meaning for the hotel. It pushed the boundaries of heritage understanding as an authorised state sanctioned discourse and creates a different understanding of heritage as defined by an emotional community of protest – heritage re-energised and re-enchanted. The heritage of the hotel was defined in an emotional and reflective nostalgic way, quite different to the professional assessments formulated under Burra Charter guidance and by Heritage Council registration. This was a dynamic and lived heritage that was defined by protest and liminal acts. The banners and the socks were part of a ritual and emotional engagement creating a social-spatial place where the processes of protest could identify the hotel as valuable and give it value and meaning. Here the cultural performance of protest makes legible the intangible aspects of nostalgia, longing and desire inherent in heritage. The community that sprang to the defense of the hotel was not contingent on just saving the Guildford Hotel. As the work began on repairing the hotel and adapting its spaces for a modern audience in November 2014, the developers revealed that the site to the rear of the hotel, which was also within the State Heritage Council Register curtilage, would need to be developed as residential apartments in order to offset the costs of the restoration of the hotel and make the project “economically viable.”83 Images of this proposed four-story block of apartments sparked immediate protest and fears that if this project was allowed to proceed it would serve as a precedent for future development in the town. At the time of writing this chapter, negotiations were underway between the developer, Heritage Council and the City of Swan on the form of the development on the hotel site. While this aspect of the hotel saga is an extension of community concern for the place and Guildford at large, the prime purpose of this chapter has been to examine how protest has shaped the way that this place can be seen as heritage outside its authorised value as a state heritage place. Here, heritage is discursive and signified as a performance in which people actively correspond and engage with a place.
Notes
1
Thompson, Chris. 2008. “Guildford Hotel gutted by fire.” WA Today. Accessed June 30 2015. http://www.watoday.com.au/wa-news/guildford-hotel-gutted-byfire-20080831-46ij.html.
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2
ABC News. 2008. “Inquiries Continue Into Guildford Hotel Fire.” ABC News. Accessed June 30, 2015. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2008-09-01/inquiries-continueinto-guildford-hotel-fire/496004. 3 Smith, Laurajane. 2006. The Uses of Heritage. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. 4 Ibid, 3. 5 Ibid, 2. 6 Isar, Yudhishthir Raj, Dacia Viejo-Rose and Helmut Anheier. 2011. “Introduction.” In Heritage, Memory and Identity, edited by Helmut Anheier and Yudhishthir Raj Isar, 1 - 20. London: Sage, 2. 7 Ibid. 8 Hall, Stuart. 2005. “Whose Heritage? Un-Settling ‘The Heritage’, Reimagining the Post-Nation.” In The Politics of Heritage: The Legacies of ‘Race’, edited by Jo Littler and Roshi Naidoo. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 25. 9 Waterton, Emma and Steve Watson. 2011. “Heritage and Community Engagement: Finding a New Agenda.” In Heritage and community Engagement: Collaboration of Contestation? edited by Emma Waterton and Steve Watson. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 3. 10 “State Cultural Heritage Policy.” 2011. Government of Western Australia. Accessed January 4, 2016. http://www.stateheritage.wa.gov.au/docs/generalpublications/state-cultural-heritage-policy.pdf?sfvrsn=8 11 Australia ICOMOS. 2013. “The Burra Charter: The Australia ICOMOS Charter for Places of Cultural Significance.” Australia ICOMOS. Accessed March 3, 2016. http://australia.icomos.org/wp-content/uploads/The-Burra-Charter-2013-Adopted31.10.2013.pdf 12 Waterton, Emma and Steve Watson. 2011. “Heritage and Community Engagement: Finding a New Agenda.” In Heritage and Community Engagement: Collaboration of Contestation? edited by Emma Waterton and Steve Watson. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 3. Also see Waterton, Emma., Smith, Larajane, and Campbell G. 2006. “The Utility of Discourse Analysis to Heritage Studies: The Burra Charter and Social Inclusion.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 12 (4): 349. 13 Ibid. 14 “State Cultural Heritage Policy.”. Government of Western Australia. 15 Isar, Yudhishthir Raj, Viejo-Rose, Dacia and Helmut Anheier. “Introduction,” 4. 16 Ibid. 17 Smith, The Uses of Heritage, 3. 18 Weerasinghe, Jagath. 2011. “Living Sacred Heritage and ‘Authenticity’ in South East Asia.” In Heritage, Memory and Identity, edited by Helmut Anheier and Yudhishthir Raj Isar, 142 – 147. London: Sage, 143. 19 Crooke, Elizabeth. 2010. “The Politics of Community Heritage: Motivations, Authority and Control.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 16 (1-2): 25. 20 Waterton and Watson, “Heritage and Community Engagement: Finding a New Agenda,” 17. 21 Ibid.
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22
Crooke, “The Politics of Community Heritage: Motivations, Authority and Control,” 17. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid, 19. 25 Gregory, Jenny. 2015. “Connecting with the Past Through Social Media: The ‘Beautiful Buildings and Cool Places Perth Has Lost’ Facebook Group.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 21 (1): 19. 26 Ibid, 23. 27 TPG. 2014. Guildford Hotel Heritage Impact Statement. Town Planning Urban Design and Heritage: Perth, 5. 28 Curtin University. 2015. “Planning Project. Patrick Bryce, Grace Davies, Giles Graham, Nathan Maas, Belle Smithies, Aaron Sta Maria.” Department of Planning and Geography. October. 29 Ibid. 30 Ravine, David. 2014. Personal Comment. November 16. Guildford, Western Australia. 31 ‘A’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 32 ‘B’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 33 Photograph by author. 34 ‘C’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 35 ‘D’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 36 ‘E’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 37 Ravine, Personal Comment. 38 Cann, Linda. 2009. “Guildford Hotel Risks ‘Demolition By Neglect’.” The Advertiser, December 21. Accessed June 30, 2015. 39 Ibid. 40 Photograph by author. 41 Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 27, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 42 ABC News. 2011. “Hundreds of Socks Have Been Added to the Fencing to Show Locals' Displeasure at the Delay in Rebuilding.” ABC News. Accessed February 25, 2016. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2010-11-09/hundreds-of-sockshave-been-added-to-the-fencing/2329970 43 Thomas, Beatrice. 2010. “Hundreds Turn Out for Hotel Rally.” The West Australian, November 21. Accessed July 1, 2015. https://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/8361226/hundreds-turn-out-for-hotel-rally/. 44 Ravine, Personal Comment. 45 Gregory, “Connecting with the Past Through Social Media: The ‘Beautiful Buildings and Cool Places Perth Has Lost’ Facebook Group,” 42. 46 Ravine, David. 2014. Personal Comment.
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47 ‘F’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 48 ‘G’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 49 ‘H’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 50 ‘I’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 51 ‘J’. Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 28, 2015. https://www.facebook.com/savetheguildfordhotel/. 52 Fullilove, Mindy Thompson. 2014. “The Frayed Knot: What Happens to Place Attachment in the Context of Serial Forced Displacement.” In Place Attachment: Advances in Theory, Methods and Applications, edited by Lynne Manzo and Patrick Devine-Wright, 142-153. London: Routledge, 149. 53 Pickering, M and Keightley, E. 2006. “The Modalities of Nostalgia.” Current Sociology 54 (6): 920-921. 54 Ibid. Also see Bonnet, Alistair. 2010. “Radicalism, Anti-Racism and Nostalgia: The Burden of Loss in The Search for a Convivial Culture.” Environment and Planning A 42 (10): 2351-2369. Also see Boym, Svetlana. 2001. The Future of Nostalgia. New York: Basic Books. 55 Ibid, 924 and 926. 56 Bonnet, “Radicalism, Anti-Racism and Nostalgia: The Burden of Loss in The Search for a Convivial Culture,” 2355. 57 Blunt, Alison. 2003. “Collective Memory and Productive Nostalgia: Anglo Indian Homemaking at McCluskieganj.” Environment and Planning D 21 (6): 718. 58 Stewart, Susan. 2007. On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham NC: Duke University Press, 23. 59 Boym, The Future of Nostalgia, xvii. 60 Ibid, xviii. 61 Bonnet, “Radicalism, Anti-Racism and Nostalgia: The Burden of Loss in The Search for a Convivial Culture,” 2345. 62 Ibid, 2354. 63 Boym, The Future of Nostalgia, 49. 64 Save the Guildford Hotel’s Facebook page. Accessed December 27, 2015. 65 Ibid. 66 Ibid. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid. 75 Sturken, Marita. 1991. “The Wall the Screen, and the Image: the Vietnam
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Veterans Memorial.” Representations 35: 118. 76 Eisenstadt, Shmuel. 1992. “The Order-Maintaining and Order-Transforming Dimensions of Culture.” In Theory of Culture, edited by Richard Munch and Neil Smelser, 64-87. Berkley: University of California Press, 64. 77 Ibid, 68. 78 Turner, Victor and Edith Turner. 1978. Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture. Columbia University Press: New York. 79 Reader, Ian & Walter, Tony, eds. 1993. Pilgrimage in Popular Culture. Basingstoke: Macmillan. 80 Turner and Turner, Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture. 81 Eisenstadt, “The Order-Maintaining and Order-Transforming Dimensions of Culture,” 67. 82 Pickering and Keightley, “The Modalities of Nostalgia,” 925. 83 Fratelle Group. 2014. Guildford Hotel Redevelopment. Accessed July 2, 2015, http://fratellegroup.com.au/portfolio/guildford-hotel-redevelopment/.
MOBILIZING TECHNOLOGIES FOR SUSTAINABLE COMMUNITY
CHAPTER SIX CULTURAL MODELS ON THE WESTERN AUSTRALIAN COAST: IMPROVING SUSTAINABILITY OUTCOMES LAURA STOCKER AND JENNY SHAW1
The coastal zone of the Indian Ocean has been subject to dramatic anthropogenic and natural changes over millennia, both over short and long time frames. These changes, including climate change, have been understood from diverse human perspectives which are highly influenced by culture.2 Quinn and Holland use the term “cultural models” to suggest “presupposed, taken-for-granted models of the world that are widely shared (although not necessarily to the exclusion of other, alternative models) by members of a society and that play an enormous role in their understanding of that world and their behavior in it.”3 Cultural models of the coast in Australia include Indigenous, productivity, community and sustainability, among others.4 The Indigenous “model” begins by recognising the cultural diversity of perspectives that exists among the multiplicity of Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in the conduct of their cultural practices.5 Nevertheless, there are also some common perspectives among Indigenous coastal groups, including: use of marine resources for subsistence, culture and exchange; an understanding of the land and ocean as continuous sea country; the weaving together of features of sea country, place names and sacred sites into cultural stories; and group identity closely related to the sea.6 Coastal groups manage their estates through cultural ceremonies such as song and dance and can also restrict access to the sea according to season, status of group member, totem and presence of sacred sites.7 A community model characterises the coast as a place for social interaction, for the development of a sense of place8 and for group activity according to social norms of the day.9 We take “community” to mean “that
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web of personal relationships, group networks, traditions and patterns of behaviour that develop against a backdrop of the physical neighbourhood and its socio-economic situation”, although the term is highly contested.10 A productivity model of the coast is about putting coastal resources to use for the betterment of society;11 it is the secular union of industry and science.12 It constructs the coast as a standing stock of resources to be owned and used with explicit technological control and is represented prominently in the marine environment by fisheries.13 It is central to public policy and is often the dominant model or “master narrative” in relation to the coast, while the other models are typically alternative or counter narratives.14 A sustainability model15 seeks to integrate community, ecological and economic aspects.16 It also reflects critically on itself and other models17 and explores synergies among them.18 Sustainability is the overarching conceptual framework within which our study resides. We also explore bioregionalism19 as a framework within which sustainability can and has been applied.20 For management purposes, a bioregion can be considered a regional landscape that is an integration of human governance with ecological systems.21 Giblett22 uses the term bioregion slightly differently to mean a “geomorphological and biological area…. where or on which humans live and work, and which sustains our life.”23 Climate change is now a key agent of change in all coastal bioregions:24 it has affected and will continue to affect the sustainability of bioregions over multiple time frames.25 Examples include changes to sea temperature, sea levels and the movement of currents.26 We argue below that key to the enactment of a sustainability model is the development of knowledge partnerships27 among stakeholders who hold and enact divergent cultural models. Knowledge partnerships have been defined as “associations and networks of individuals or organizations that share a purpose or goal and whose members contribute knowledge, experience, resources, and connections, and participate in two-way communications.”28 In this chapter we present two Western Australian (WA) case studies, one on Derbal Nara (also known as Cockburn Sound) and the other on the Abrolhos Islands. The case studies are both located in the southwest of Western Australia, in the ‘West Coast Bioregion’ as described by Fletcher (Figure 6.1).29 The West Coast Bioregion is strongly influenced by the Leeuwin Current, a southward flowing, warm, low nutrient current.30 This current affects the marine flora and fauna of the west coast of Western Australia as well as the weather patterns of the adjacent terrestrial region. The West Coast Bioregion (Figure 6.1) is also considered a global marine
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climate channge hotspot31 with sea lev vels rising by more than do ouble the global averaage and sea tem mperatures in ncreasing by ppoint six to one degrees 3 over the passt fifty years.32 A recent maarine heat wavve has increassed water temperatures between fouur and five degrees d higherr than normall in some places.33
Figure 6.1. D Diagram of thee Leeuwin Currrent and its sp atial relationsh hip to WA Bioregions.34
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In the first case study of Derbal Nara/Cockburn Sound, we compare a Whadjuk Nyungar account with a geomorphological scientific account about origins of that coastscape over time and a changing climate. Both accounts span the ending of the last ice age and the inundation of the coastal lands with water. In the second case study of the Abrolhos Islands, we compare fisheries scientists’ account with the rock lobster fishers’ account of recent changes to the rock lobster fishery,35 the environment, climate and community. We compare these accounts by exploring the respective stories, perceptions of the significance of the environment and people, and knowledge systems deployed. Each account relates to a different cultural model of the coast. A comparative analysis of the cases is developed in the Discussion section below. We aim to show that while the cultural models of the coast are divergent in each case study, a sustainability model could be better enacted if a bioregional framework was used as a space for creating collaborative knowledge partnerships and the consequent synergising of community, economic and environmental values of the bioregion.
Case Studies The present chapter draws on two separate social research projects. The original two studies are reported more fully elsewhere.36 Both original studies are ethnographic, drawing on insider knowledge, new and existing images and in depth interviews. The Derbal Nara/Cockburn Sound research project generated a public website,37 while the Abrolhos Islands research project generated a community exhibition of photographic images and comments by the fishers woven together with research data and comments by fisheries scientists.38 The case studies are set out below. Each case study follows the same structure: we first compare the stories as told by two different cultural subgroups. We then detail the contrasting perspectives on the environment and people as seen by these subgroups. Finally we present an account of the contrasting knowledge systems. Our use of the structure “environment, people and knowledge” is designed to parallel the Nyungar trilogy of belief: “boodjar (country), moort (family) and katitjin (knowledge).”39
Case One: Derbal Nara/Cockburn Sound, Western Australia The first case study is of the ancient history of Derbal Nara or Cockburn Sound. Two accounts are presented: a Whadjuk Nyungar account and a
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geomorphological scientific account. The nature of the stories, the understanding of the environment, the perception of people and the knowledge systems are set out below.
The Stories Nyungar Cockburn Sound is known to the traditional owners, the Whadjuk Nyungar, as Derbal Nara. The Whadjuk Nyungar word for the “coast” is wardan boodjar which literally means “sea country”: wardan means “the sea” and boodjar means “country.” As related by Trevor Walley, the coast is of great practical and spiritual significance to the Whadjuk Nyungar. The Walyalup (Fremantle) Dreaming story tells of Yondock, an ancestral crocodile that travelled down from the north, causing floods and disturbances, creating Wadjemup (Rottnest Island), Ngooloormayaup (Carnac Island), Derbal Nara (Cockburn Sound), and flooding the Derbal Yaragan (Swan River) with salt water. The Waagle or Rainbow Serpent, guardian of the fresh water, smells the salt and travels down Derbal Yaragan to see what’s happening. With advice from Woorriji (a lizard) in a cave in North Fremantle and strength gained from a freshwater spring at the East Street Jetty, the Waagle fights the crocodile, bites off his tail and places the tail across the mouth of the river to prevent salt water coming up stream. The tail is secured with hair from the armpits of the Waagle on the southern side of the river, and with toenails from the crocodile on the north side of the river. The rest of the crocodile’s body remains as Meeandip (or Garden Island…) and dingoes watch from Cantonment Hill to make sure the body of the crocodile is not reunited with its tail.40
The inundation of coastal lands by the sea, as described in the above story, impacted on Nyungar ability to access their traditional sites including the island of Wadjemup or Rottnest which was a “high point and used for ceremonial and spiritual purposes.”41 In particular, Nyungar were concerned about the buried dead whose spirits were trapped beneath the sea. Dr Noel Nannup, pre-eminent Nyungar story-teller provides an account of “When the Sea Levels Rose”42 and the spirits of people were trapped under the rapidly rising sea.43 It is said that whenever a whale calf is born, one of these spirits attaches itself to the whale calf. After 80 or 90 years swimming around the ocean, Mamong returns to this coast. Mamong the whale beaches itself to return the spirit being carried by the whale back into the land where it belongs.44
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Figure 6.3. P Present coastlinne of Derbal Nara N (Cockburnn Sound) indiccated over 9,000-year-olld coastscape.455
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Geomorphological Science Around 120,000 to 12,000 years ago, during the Pleistocene epoch, the sea level in the East Indian Ocean was much lower than today due to an ice age. At 10,000 years ago, the sea level was still around twenty metres lower than today’s level.46,47 A coastal plain with dunes lay exposed between Perth and Rottnest, and the Swan River at that time discharged into a wide bay about eight kilometers east-north-east of Rottnest.48 However, following the last glacial minimum around 18,000 years ago, sea levels had begun to rise.49 The sea flooded and drowned the Rottnest Shelf and the coastal plain situated between Perth and Rottnest,50 reaching its current level around 6,500 years ago.51 The sea also inundated the Cockburn-Warnbro Depression, a low-lying swale or interdunal lake52 that had formed between the Garden Island and Spearwood Ridges in the Late Pleistocene.53 Garden Island became separated from the mainland. In the current Cockburn Sound area, a series of subtidal ridges parallel to the coast and submerged reefs mark this lower sea level.54 Cockburn Sound now contains a variety of terrestrial and marine deposits as well as the Pleistocene dune ridges.55 Digital elevation models illustrate the existence of former coastlines beneath the coastal sea including the current line of remnant islands and submerged reefs that extend from Point Peron to Rottnest Island (Figure 6.2).56, 57 Since sea level became relatively stable in the middle Holocene 6,500 years ago, large volumes of sediment have been transported across the shallow shelf and thick sand accumulations such as Success and Parmelia Banks have begun to develop (Figure 6.2).58 Figure 6.3 shows schematically the relationship between today’s coastline and that of 9,000 years ago when the area now known as Fremantle was connected to Rottnest Island by a broad land bridge.
Environment/Boodjar Nyungar For Nyungar, the environment or “boodjar,” the people or “moort,” and their knowledge systems or “katitjin,” are an interconnected seamless web, a trilogy of belief that underpins their entire worldview.59 In Nyungar cosmology, the “Waagle” is the pre-eminent creative ancestral spirit who made the trilogy.60 For Nyungar, the environment or boodjar is the mother.61 It is not an empty environment: it is full of human culture. There is another dimension that invests the land with meaning and significance–
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that transforms the land and environment into landscape and “country”. That other dimension is “culture”. “Country” is an Australian Aboriginal term that has come to be used widely to convey this sense of a fully cultural-spiritual landscape. In a Nyungar worldview, relationship to country is primary.62 Whadjuk Nyungar refer to the coast as “wardan boodjar” or “sea country”.63 Traditionally, the Whadjuk exercise rights and have responsibilities over wardan boodjar; using resources for subsistence, culture and exchange. Throughout the entire Boodjar, the sea, rivers, wetlands, hills, stars, coastal lakes and other features of the landscape are the “Dreaming tracks” made by the Waagle and other ancestral spirits who travelled across country having encounters with each other.64 The Dreaming tracks are held to be sacred by Nyungar.65 Cultural stories describe these ancestral encounters, the consequent features of country and the placenames that reflect them. In the story told by Trevor Walley, it was the interaction between Yondock and Waagle that created Derbal Nara.
Geomorphological Science The scientific account of the Cockburn environment during the Pleistocene and its evolution during the Holocene, as presented above, is a geomorphological account.66 Under this account, the environment is understood through a detailed study of the physical features of the area, their relation to its geology and oceanography, and the impact of long term climatic change on these. In this sense the study is interdisciplinary, though only within the physical sciences rather than fully holistic across a wider range of human understandings and experience. The biological environment is considered only with respect to the contribution of shells to sediment67 or in some cases the fossil remains of plants and pollen.68 Although beyond the scope of their study, Skene et al. highlight the need to compare the distributions of trace metals in the surface sediments with maps of changes in the extent of benthic habitats in Cockburn Sound “to help identify any long-term ecological impacts of the sediment contamination, as well as their impacts on benthic habitat composition.” 69
Moort/People Nyungar Nyungar understanding of the role of people in the environment is highly relational. Traditionally, kinship systems are determined by relationship to
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various aspects of country, and these in turn determine the obligations that people have to each other.70 Environmental care can be practiced through the system of totems which are the ancestral forms of animals, plants or other objects: a person or family has an obligation to care for that totem.71 Relationships between people and the greater-than-human world are reciprocal. In the above story about Derbal Nara told by Dr Noel Nannup, humans were trapped by rapidly rising sea levels and the spirits were helped ashore by “mamong” or whales. Humans then help release the spirits. The Nyungar men knew when the whales were coming and would prepare a ceremonial knife called a Daap. When the whale washed ashore, the Daap was used to cut open the whale and when the blood from the whale ran into the land, the people would be satisfied that the spirit had returned.72
Geomorphological Science There is no reference to the Aboriginal culture of the Pleistocene nor the Holocene, nor is there any reference to the numinous dimension of the coast in Skene et al.73 Place names describe the physical features of the environment – ridge, bank, shelf – in combination with significant European references: Success, Rottnest. There is, however, considerable reference to recent anthropogenic change or the “human alteration of Cockburn Sound that has occurred since European settlement of the area during the 1800s.”74 Humans thus become relevant to the scientific account when they are seen to have influenced its physical development. Their experience of it, and the meaning they make from it, is not the content of conventional science.
Knowledge system Nyungar In Nyungar, “katitjin” means knowledge, understanding or information.75 Nyungar katitjin is holistic. “Yarn” is a common term for a story in Nyungar discourse and it is the foundation of katitjin.76 Over the long history of the Nyungar, yarns were transmitted orally and were also performed through song and dance. Yarning is a powerful social means of reinforcing knowledge.77 The data of the stories are qualitative. Cultural memories of the origin of Derbal Nara have been handed down without writing for thousands of years.
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The word “nyitting” means cold times. Nyitting yarn is a term used to mean cosmological or “Dreaming stories.” Its use suggests that a climatic epoch, probably the ice age, was a cosmological turning point in Nyungar history.78 Nyitting yarns or Dreaming stories account for significant events lying within and beyond the living memories of the Nyungar people.79 As mentioned above, Dreaming stories relate to tracks made by the Waagle and other creative spirits as they interacted. Placenames refer to phenomena depicted in these stories. Thus places, names, stories and creative ancestors form a single integrated cultural whole. In the case of Trevor Walley’s story of Derbal Nara, it is clear how the storyline matches the activities of the creative spirits, Waagle and Yondock; both places and placenames reflect these stories. For example, the body of Yondock the crocodile has become Meeandip or Garden Island, meaning wounded or bloodied, referring to the beating he got from the Waagle.80 Other features of the Nyungar knowledge system include the importance of talking to Elders to verify information, as Trevor Walley did in researching the Derbal Nara story.81 While yarning about yarning,82 Trevor Walley reflects extensively on the role he has taken on in cultural development, highlighting the reflexivity found in the Nyungar knowledge system.83
Geomorphological Science The scientific geomorphological account of the history of Cockburn Sound is also empirical. The geomorphological account is based on sediment samples grabbed from the surface of the seafloor and 3–6 m long cores taken by drilling beneath the seafloor.84 The samples were then described lithologically and subsampled for measurements of grain size and calcium carbonate in the laboratory.85 Geochemical analysis was also conducted.86 The account is largely quantitative though qualitative and highly visual representations of Cockburn Sound are also provided (Figure 6.2). The nature of the modern scientific endeavour, and indeed broader Western culture, is that it tends to be reductionist rather than holistic. In the present case the primarily geomorphological account represents one, albeit large, discipline. Nevertheless, the scientific geomorphological account of Skene et al. is in some ways a social enterprise in that it draws together the knowledge of a wide range authors, a common feature of scientific teamwork.87 Naturally there are other scientific accounts from other disciplines. Taken together they provide a broader understanding of Cockburn Sound, but they do not provide an integrated whole that links human experience with the evolution of landscape and fauna.
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Case Two: Abrolhos Islands, Western Australia In this second case study of the Abrolhos Islands, we compare fisheries scientists’ account with the rock lobster fishers’ account of recent changes to the fishery.
The stories Fisheries Science The 122 low-lying islands of the Abrolhos Islands, seventy kilometres off the Midwest coast of Western Australia with a diverse mixture of tropical and temperate marine species88 are in a transition zone between warmer waters from the north and cooler waters from the south.89 They are home to a number of fisheries, notably the highly productive and valuable rock lobster fishery.90 Over sixty years of monitoring, a strong correlation has been found between the numbers of rock lobster larvae (puerulus) settling along the coast and the strength of the warm, low nutrient, southward flowing Leeuwin Current.91 There is also extensive research data that reliably predicts the catch of adult rock lobsters four years in advance by counting the number of puerulus settling along the coast.92 In 2006 the number of puerulus declined significantly. The initial concern was that the fishery was being overfished. To protect the breeding stock, the Western Australian Department of Fisheries intervened rapidly by reducing the State catch by about one half.93 Around this time the style of fisheries management also changed from input control to output controls, generally referred to as quota management.94 This gave fishers an individual unit entitlement and increased the fishing season over time to the current twelve months.95 As a result, the fishery is now close to maximum economic yield with the number of lobsters per pot increasing from approximately 2 kilos per pot lift to around 6 kilos per pot lift.96 The price of rock lobsters has gone from an average of $28.50 per kilo in 2006 to $48.02 per kilo in 2014.97 Research since 2006 has investigated a number of explanations of the reduction of puerulus numbers along the coast. Given the record high breeding stock numbers, the overfishing explanation has been dismissed. Rather it appears to be an environmental issue possibly linked to the increased water temperatures bringing on an earlier spawning and causing them to be “out of sync” with other necessary environmental parameters.98 As the larvae can move up to up to 1,500 kilometres offshore,99 the well-
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documented reduction in storms and associated south-westerly winds in south-west WA may inhibit the return of larvae to the coast.100 The increased sea water temperatures101 and decreased rain-bearing winter lows are consistent with climate change predictions.102
Fishers The rock lobster fishers of the Abrolhos Islands have a long history of fishing the waters around this archipelago, sometimes three and four generations. The fishers set up thriving communities on four main groups of islands, comprising brightly coloured camps or small houses, schools and community halls (Figure 6.4).103 These communities were active during the three and a half month rock lobster fishing season; whole families lived, worked and played on the Islands.104 People strongly identified as being from the Abrolhos Islands. Even though they were not there the whole year, they had a strong sense of belonging place.105 When the fishery scientists reported the decline in puerulus larvae and the fishery managers responded by halving the catch, many of the fishers were concerned that the Department of Fisheries had their science and analyses wrong, thinking perhaps the larvae had settled in deeper waters or elsewhere. Alternatively, the fishers concluded, the decline was a small aberration that would self-correct; the system would to return to “normal.” At the Abrolhos Islands the catch reductions were halved and as a consequence, the number of fishers on the Islands was also halved.106 Many fishers exited the industry, selling or leasing their licences, while others amalgamated or bought additional units.107 The actions described above, the introduction of quota management and the extended fishing season had a number of impacts including on the way people fish. A longer fishing season means that fishers only fish when the price is high; they have become “price-makers” rather than “price-takers.” The decline of their community is of great significance to the fishers. As fishers now come and go throughout the whole year, families no longer live on the Islands, schools are closed, sporting events no longer occur and community halls and clubs are no longer viable. On some of the Islands the community has collapsed completely.108
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Environment Fisheries Science From the perspective of fisheries science, the marine environment has traditionally been viewed as a standing stock of resources.109 In the nineteenth century, a secular and productivist union of science and industry formed the basis of fisheries science and management with which we are familiar today.110 The fishery stock and its environment must be managed in order to keep the fishery productive. In relation to the present case study, this means that when puerulus numbers dropped in 2006, the primary concern was the protection of breeding stock and understanding the drivers of that change. The “environment” of the rock lobster is considered very broadly by fisheries scientists. It includes the seasonal Leeuwin Current flowing the entire length of WA and the extensive eddies (Figure 6.1). It includes the impacts of climate on the oceanic currents and the environmental changes which affect the biological community on which the rock lobster depends throughout its whole life cycle. This environment has also been monitored over a long time scale (sixty years). During this time, there has been a strong association between the numbers of settling rock lobster larvae and the strength of the Leeuwin Current.111 This correlation weakened in 2006 and it appeared that some other long term environmental factor or factors was implicated in the reduction of puerulus. Further research about the impact of environmental factors on the lobster life cycle points to a number of environmental changes consistent with long-term climate change predictions.112 Fisheries management has been successful on its own terms, with evidence that the breeding stock is protected and puerulus settlement increasing.113
Fishers Fishers spend much of their working life on the ocean and are keenly tuned to changes in it. They are observant of the marine environment and weather because their catches and safety depend upon it. When asked in interviews if they have observed any changes to the marine environment, fishers had no hesitation in talking about the increases in water temperature, decreases in storm frequency and swell height, combined with increases in storm intensity. They have also noticed changes in marine plant and animal species, namely more tropical species frequenting
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the Abrolhos Islands, some coral species growing faster and others disappearing.114 In 2011 there was a “marine heat wave” and the first coral bleaching at the Abrolhos islands was noticed.115 Fishers observed the unusually warm water temperatures: …The water temperature on the 10th March last year [2011] was two degrees warmer than it was on the 10th March this year [2012]…116
There were also comments on the large number of lobster, fishes and other invertebrate deaths during this period. Some islands have disappeared and a number of jetties are covered in water during high tides: …I’ve noticed two Islands gone, from what I can remember... The Second Sister and Sandy Island. There used to be camps on Sandy Island which are not there anymore. The actual Island’s disappeared. And Second Sister’s been washed away…117
Although 71 percent of surveyed fishers observed changes to the marine environment, fewer (57 percent) were initially prepared to link these to a changing climate. One fisher echoed a common sentiment: “I don’t believe in global warming, no. I think it’s more of a natural thing.”118 However, after participating in the research project and community exhibition, the proportion of fishers who believed the climate was changing increased to 90 percent.119 A number of fishers commented that seeing their photos and quotes in a formal setting alongside scientific accounts of climate change made them reconsider their attitude to climate change: …it opened the fisherman up to listening [and] being engaged in the [climate change] conversation... now they are more aware and they are more open...120
Within the fishing community the action-research project also promoted talk about climate change: [Initially when you]… asked me about climate change I said it was a load of cobblers, whereas now you talk to people and I get different… aspects of what other people think, so it’s brought my thinking [around] too, that there is… global warming…121 …Climate change, yeah… [seeing the photos] opens your eyes up a little bit more… we experience it over [at the Abrolhos]… all the time, but we never really let it sink in and have a good think about it… [seeing our photos in a formal exhibition]… it was like a light going on…122
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People Fisheries Science As described above, the basis of fisheries science and management developed from a productivity model. Fisheries management theory has shifted since the advent of Ecologically Sustainable Development and Ecosystem Based Fisheries Management123 which consider the environmental, economic and social outcomes of fisheries. This substantial shift for most fisheries management agencies and Ecosystem Based Fisheries Management has had varying levels of implementation success.124 However, the concern of fisheries science and management has remained focused largely on the fish stocks and not on fishers’ experiences or on the impacts of management at an individual or community level. Indeed in the current context, the fisheries science and management approach showed little consideration of the social implications of decision making.125 Although it could be argued that the changes successfully protected the breeding stocks and consequently the fishery, there appeared little understanding or concern that the changes would lead to significant community decline and, on some Islands, community collapse. In a recent paper, Shaw, Stocker and Noble argue that the lack of management focus on social outcomes and subsequent community impacts may be related to the well documented “invisibility” of women in the fishing industry.126
Fishers The Abrolhos Islands are significant to fishers in many ways. It is the source of their livelihood and until recently was where their families lived, went to school and socialised. The sense of community is at the heart of fishers’ perspectives of the Abrolhos story. Before recent changes, the fishing was intense and whole families lived on the Abrolhos during the fishing season. ... one of the enduring memories of living at the Abrolhos for me was the strength of the community and the “one in all in” support mentality… The community supported each other, the school and many fundraising events were held at the [community] hall…127 … well I started in the North Island and it was just full on social community up there. Every camp was full–wives, kids, schools, bloody volley ball every afternoon, piano, social club going every night, there was
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dart tournaments, pool comps, just out of control stuff, it was like living in a town…128
There was a strong sense of community and environmental stewardship, particularly in more recent years. … I’m very proud of what the fishing community have achieved out there, we’ve done clean up days, there’s a lot of community events that happen there that don’t happen in … larger regional town[s] for fisherman. That sense of pride...129
Families have fished the Islands for three and four generations, catching both rock lobsters and fish. One fisher who had fished at the islands for over 30 years described himself as “one of the newcomers here.”130 The fishers identify strongly as “Abrolhos fishers” and have a strong attachment to place: Love it. [I’m] born and bred [at the Abrolhos]. Couldn’t give it up for the world, nor would my kids, nor would my wife…131
Many talked about the changes to the way people lived on the islands in their lifetime and also the hardships their parents endured: … back then … water was really hard to get. If it didn't rain, that was it, we didn't have any water ... It was hard, it was a hard life and that’s from what I remember … And Dad’s stories, if he was alive, he used to tell me the stories [of] how hard he had it … they didn't have these fancy jetties; they use to have to get out there... in little boats and get to the pontoons and it’d be slippery at night to load trays. It was very, very hard the way they did it.132
Knowledge System Fisheries Science The Fisheries Department of WA has a long history of fisheries management, underpinned by extensive knowledge in fisheries research, stock assessment and associated modelling. Scientists from the Department of Fisheries and CSIRO have been collecting extensive data for the past sixty years on the settlement of rock lobster larvae (puerulus) and ocean currents along the WA coast.133 The length of this data set is unusual and underpins the extensive knowledge of this species and subsequent management measures for the fishery. WA rock lobsters were
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protected as early as 1887 with a minimum size, initially a weight and later a carapace length. In 1899 spawning (egg carrying) females were protected. Closed seasons were introduced in 1962 and entry was limited to the fishery in 1963.134 In 2000 the WA rock lobster fishery was the first fishery in the world to obtain Marine Stewardship Council accreditation for ecological sustainability. It has since been re-certified twice, giving it fifteen years of continuous certification. This achievement was recently recognised internationally (Brussels, April 2015).135 The fishery remains Australia’s most valuable single species fishery.136 The science that formed the basis of the policy and management decisions sustaining this fishery has been systematic, objective and quantitative. Numerous written reports are available from the Department of Fisheries137 explaining the science, predicting the catch and setting out the management plans and regulations for the fishery. Every year a team of research scientists and managers travel to coastal fishing towns to present the latest data and talk about any changes to the management of the fishery. More recently this has included changes to the climate and environment including: water temperature, storm patterns and ocean currents that are likely impacting on the larval settlement. However, as with most fisheries science, it is designed to be an objective inquiry into the state of the fishery and its biophysical context. It occurs without explicit reference to the scientists’ relationship to the environment or to the fishers themselves. Communication with fishers generally focuses on updating them with the latest relevant fisheries information, following a deficit model which assumes that fishers have little or no knowledge.
Fishers Fishers’ ability to operate in the marine environment is based largely on tacit knowledge derived from experience, observations and often intergenerational exchange. Some families at the Abrolhos have fished for four generations with a fifth still at school but working on the boats during their school holidays. There are no formal qualifications or training available for commercial fishing, although the Technical and Further Education (TAFE) system offers courses for maritime operations. Technology on fishing boats has changed significantly over the past 20 years with the advent of Global Positioning Systems (GPS), marine navigating systems, radio and satellite communications, and highresolution echo sounders. Most fishing boats have on-board computers that can transmit real time information on sea temperatures, weather conditions as well as recording fishing catch data including the marking of fishing
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spots, catch history etc. This computerised technological change is a shift in the way people fish but the tacit, often oral exchanges of fishing knowledge are still important: … [fishers] learn on the ground from their fathers, their mates and other skippers… Fishers talk, especially [the] young guys, so where the crays [lobsters] are is known quickly.138 A lot of people write fishermen off, but a lot of them are pretty switched on… Because they live in the environment, they are out there all day, they notice when things are changing.139
Fishers see themselves as adaptable: responding to changes in the weather, fisheries management, technology and the movement of fish. However, they seem resistant to the uptake of climate change knowledge.140 It may be that the formal or explicit system of this knowledge is at odds with fishers’ own local knowledge system. Many also refer to a cyclical nature of change and historical environmental changes that their father or grandfathers experienced and passed down orally, such as extreme temperatures “back in the 1800s–all [these] cycles happened before”.141
Discussion Two case studies were presented in the West Coast Bioregion to illustrate how several differing cultural models are enacted on the coast by comparing the stories, the people, their perceptions of the environment and their knowledge systems. The first case study focuses on long term natural climatic and geomorphological change. It demonstrates a radical difference between the scientific and indigenous accounts of the creation of Derbal Nara/Cockburn Sound, consistent with an indigenous model of sustainability.142 Certainly, the weaving together of features of sea country, place names and sacred phenomena into coherent, integrated cultural accounts is clearly visible in Trevor Walley’s story of the struggle between Yondock and the Waagle and the consequent creation of Derbal Nara and the barrier islands such as Meeandip meaning wounded or bloodied. The management of coastal estates through cultural ceremonies is demonstrated by Noel Nannup’s account of the cutting open of beached whales to release human spirits trapped under the floodwaters. Humans and greater-than-human life forms have a close relationship in the management of sea country. Knowledge is based on a holistic understanding of country and its relationship to people. Information is stored and passed down orally through stories or yarns.
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Dreaming stories occur during Nyitting or the cold times, and the Derbal Nara stories clearly span an era of dramatic and culturally profound coastal inundation. Putting these facets together we infer that the account is consistent with the geomorphological account of rising sea levels at the end of the last ice age.143 The geomorphological account144 corresponds to a productivity model of the coast:145 it is the scientific basis for better understanding the use of Cockburn Sound for shipping, fishing and other industry. It is underpinned by the written dissemination of knowledge. This is the dominant or “master narrative”.146 Clearly the cause-and-effect relationships of the two worldviews147 are divergent,148 although the symbolism of Yondock the crocodile swimming from the north arguably relates to a flow of warmer waters from the north, possibly a more southward movement of the Leeuwin current (Figure 6.1). We suggest that both accounts show an understanding of changing climate and sea levels over the long course of history, even if the account of proximal causation and the cultural meanings made are different. We argue here that while the radically different accounts would seem to derive from different worldviews, when taken together they form a fascinating and far more complete understanding of the Pleistocene/Holocene/Nyitting times. A third space opens up in which the two cultural accounts can coexist, creating opportunities to underpin managing for coastal sustainability in the present time.149 We suggest that by considering the Indigenous and productivity models together we move towards a cultural model of sustainability that should be underpinned by a respectful sharing of knowledge and an integrated understanding of community, economic and environmental values of the Sound.150 Examples of working principles for sustainable coastal management in the third space have been developed by Stocker, Collard and Rooney.151 The context of the second case study is contemporary anthropogenic change. We compare scientific accounts with fishers’ accounts of recent changes to the rock lobster fishery at the Abrolhos Islands. The two accounts are more similar than are the Indigenous and scientific accounts in the first case study; however there are still many differences. The scientists’ account of the changes at the Abrolhos can be described fully by a productivity model of the coast, in which industry and science unite in order to utilise coastal resources for the betterment of society.152 The betterment of society over the long term is primarily served, in the view of fisheries managers and scientists, by maintaining stock numbers. In our case, stock numbers were maintained through prompt action by fisheries management, and the productivity model enacted. Under this
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logic, the long-term interests of both the fishery and broader society would be met. Although the management actions were arguably protecting the rock lobster fishing community by ensuring that the rock lobster population did not become commercially extinct, these actions certainly had serious ramifications for the livelihoods of individual fishers who had to exit the industry. The fishers’ account can be described by a mixed cultural model of coastal use which includes both community and productivity aspects.153 The community aspect is demonstrated by the significance given to social interaction in the Abrolhos Island clubs, schools and sporting events; and the cultural development that occurs as the fishers make and express meaning together through their shared sense of place.154 However, the fishers are there to fish. Their livelihoods depend on catching rock lobster. Thus their stories also talk of the economic impact of the changes at the Abrolhos. This aspect points to the productivity model of the coast. A tension exists, however, between attempts to enact the community and productivity models. The government’s productivist management action impacted on the ability of fishers to enact the community model and devastated Island community life. We suggest that had knowledge been shared in such a way that both models could have been considered together, both productivity and community values may have been protected. After all, through the hindsight offered by the exhibition,155 taking the two accounts of scientists and fishers together shows that they represent different facets of the same story. The scientists’ story tells us more about the biophysical and management changes while the fishers’ story tells us more about the community and economic impacts. The scientists’ story is based on data collected through technology and creates a big picture of the impacts of changing climate on the fishery. The fishers’ knowledge is based on direct daily observation and experience. These forms of knowledge are also complementary. The exhibition provided a third space in which a framework was provided for considering both knowledge systems and information sets together. A sustainability model requires the interaction of community, economic and environmental dimensions of the coast.156 This is also recognised by state government strategy157 and by fisheries managers.158 However the extent to which the three aspects are allowed to synergise is limited in practice. This limitation and its impacts on sustainability can be seen in our case studies above. All activity occurs in a place and a bioregion is often a suitable scale for considering how to enhance sustainability. Both case studies occur in
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the West Coast Bioregion as defined for current fisheries management purposes.159 This management area was modified from a large-scale Commonwealth technical study grouping purely biophysical areas of similarity, including geomorphology, marine habitat, marine flora and fauna. However, it is important to remember that bioregions are social constructs so government agency boundaries do not always align exactly with each other, with Aboriginal understandings or even ecological boundaries which tend to be dynamic and fuzzy. The West Coast Bioregion for example does not align neatly with all fisheries zones and boundaries nor with Aboriginal country borders; Perth lies within Whadjuk Nyungar country while the Abrolhos and Geraldton lie just inside Yamatji country. Notwithstanding this non alignment, Giblett remarks that “indigenous peoples … have actually shaped and produced the bioregion,” presumably through their active management processes.160 In contemporary times Aboriginal people, fishing communities and fisheries scientists all continue to shape and be shaped by the bioregion. The bioregion sustains these groups. Each type of group has a relationship with the marine and coastal environment which has provided different types of livelihood and sustenance including, in some cases, spiritual and cultural connectedness experienced as a deep sense of belonging to place. Giblett argues that this is especially true for Aboriginal people.161 However, while some relationships between people and place are mutually favourable, others can be damaging; many are both. Both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people can interact complexly with a place;162 neither are essentially carers of the land, and the Aboriginal commentator Mick Dodson has warned us against romanticising Aboriginal relationships to the land.163 Nevertheless, a bioregional perspective on the coast helps us to plan and manage it better with respect to key impacts such as coastal adaptation to climate change and fishing.164 The coast in particular needs to be considered at this scale since the sea and its margins are strongly influenced by currents that disperse sediment and marine life and alter water temperatures. Significantly, a bioregion represents an explicit area within which communities, government, industry and Aboriginal owners can come together and build shared knowledge and understandings about how to manage the coast sustainably. Both case studies in this chapter raise the possibility, but also the challenges, of bringing together different knowledge types for the purposes of sustainability. Both point to the possibility of knowledge partnerships.165 Knowledge that can be used in developing a knowledge partnership for sustainable management includes: explicit (formal,
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codified), tacit (an understanding of how to do things) and implicit (values and cultural considerations that shape perceptions of knowledge holders).166 Often scientific information is considered formal, being written and abstract, whilst community and Aboriginal knowledge is often seen as tacit, being oral and practical. However, Aboriginal knowledge can also be formally codified in cultural stories, performance and art. Knowledge in the fishing community is largely considered tacit because of the oral traditions of intergeneration learning and sharing among fishers. All groups bring implicit knowledge to the table; that is, all groups have values and cultures that frame their knowledge formation. Where there are mixed levels of explicit knowledge and divergent tacit and implicit knowledges, as represented by different cultural models, the exchange of knowledge is best achieved through direct engagement, for example among scientists, community, Traditional Owners, managers and governance bodies such as through community exhibitions, and website production.167 We suggest that the development of knowledge partnerships would enable a fuller model of sustainability to be enacted and management to be improved. Importantly, it is the process of engagement that is as important as the knowledge itself, as demonstrated in our second case study. Science communication and knowledge sharing does not occur automatically but needs to be enabled through careful, deliberate design.168 On a warning note, it is important that Aboriginal people are not overrun by a western sustainability model.169 Critically, diverse Aboriginal knowledges should not be seen as inferior epistemologically but as equal to scientific knowledge in a knowledge partnership170 even if this is a political and epistemological challenge for managers.171
Towards a Fuller Understanding Three issues draw our two cases together and also demonstrate points of differentiation. Both cases belong in a shared bioregion which has maintained and sustained livelihoods of all groups. Both case studies occur in the context of a changing climate and the consequences to immediate environmental and social change, though the time frame of change differs between the cases. Both case studies demonstrate the potential of combining explicit, tacit and implicit knowledge types together to create a fuller understanding of the nearshore social ecological coastal system and better support sustainable management. The case studies illustrate how different cultural models are enacted on the coast. We contend that in both case studies, the “master narrative” is underpinned by a productivity model of the coast.172 However, we argue
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that the “counter-stories” represented by the Whadjuk Nyungar and fishing community respectively help to create a fuller understanding of the case and support the development of a sustainability model. We conclude that a bioregional scale may be appropriate for the sustainable management of coasts. We also conclude that the development of knowledge partnerships can bring together community, economic and environmental values and dimensions of the coast and support the development of a sustainability model. It is important, however, that the process of engagement and communication in building a knowledge partnership is equitable, deliberate and well designed.
Notes 1
Funding for the first case study came from Coastwest– a State Government initiative aimed at providing opportunities for Western Australians to learn about, conserve and protect our coast. Additional funding came from CSIRO’s Flagship program via the Coastal Collaboration Cluster. The City of Cockburn also contributed funds and in-kind support. Thank you to Gary Burke for critical insights, and to Sam Blight and Declan Burke for the figures. Funding and support for the second case study came from a number of organisations and agencies including: Curtin University Sustainability Policy Institute, Coastwest in partnership with Caring for our Country, Western Australian Marine Science Institution, Department of Fisheries Government of WA, Fisheries Research and Development Corporation, Western Australian Museum Geraldton. The authors would particularly like to thank the following for their personal involvement and contribution to the second case study: Leonie Noble (Abrolhos fisher), Greg Finlay (Abrolhos Manager Department of Fisheries), Catherine Belcher (Director, WA Museum). Special acknowledgement and thanks to the rock lobster fishers and the Abrolhos Islands community who participated in the case study. As a requirement of Curtin University’s research ethics approval (RGS-01-11), written project information was given out prior to all interviews being undertaken and written research consents obtained from participants. 2 Stocker, L., and D. Kennedy. 2009. “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability.” Coastal Management 37 (5): 37-41. Also see Thompson, R. 2007. “Cultural Models and Shoreline Social Conflict.” Coastal Management 35 (2): 211-237. 3 Quinn, N., and D. Holland. 1987. “Culture and Cognition.” In Cultural Models in Language and Thought, edited by N. Quinn and D. Holland, 3-42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 4. 4 Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. 5 Kinnane, S. 2005. “Indigenous Sustainability: Rights, Obligations and a Collective Commitment to Country.” In International Law and Indigenous Peoples, edited by Castellino J. and Walsh N., 195-224. Leiden/Boston: Martinus
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Nijoff Publishers. Also see National Oceans Office. 2004. Living on Saltwater Country: Review of Literature about Aboriginal Rights, Use, Management and Interests in Northern Australian Marine Environments. Background Paper. Hobart: Commonwealth of Australia. 6 Smyth, D. 1997. Sociocultural Considerations: Saltwater Country. Canberra: Department of the Environment. 7 Ibid. 8 Relph, E. 2001. “Sense of Place.” In Ten Geographic Ideas that Changed the World, edited by S. Hanson, 205-226. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Also see Stocker, L.J. , and K. Netherwood. 2006. “Children Caring for the Coast: A Values Education Project on Sustainability in Place.” In Community Voices: Creating Sustainable Space, edited by S. Paulin. Perth: UWA Press. 9 Thompson, “Cultural Models and Shoreline Social Conflict”. 10 Flecknoe, C., and N. McLellan. 1994. The What, How and Why of Neighbourhood Community Development. London: Community Matters, 8. 11 Thompson, “Cultural Models and Shoreline Social Conflict”. 12 Schabas, Margaret. 2005. The Natural Origins of Economics. London: University of Chicago Press, 35-40. 13 Kennedy, Deborah. 2007. “Ocean Views.” PhD, Murdoch University, 144-171. 14 Escobar, P. 1998. “Whose Knowledge, Whose Nature? Biodiversity, Conservation, and the Political Ecology of Social Movements.” Journal of Political Ecology 5 (1): 53-82. 15 Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. 16 Kane, M. 1999. “Sustainability Concepts: From Theory to Practice.” In Sustainability in Question: The Search for a Conceptual Framework, edited by J. Kohn, F. Gowdy, F. Hinterberger and J. van der Straaten, 15-30. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. 17 Meppem, T., and S. Bourke. 1999. “Different Ways of Knowing: a Communicative Turn Toward Sustainability.” Ecological Economics 30 (3): 389-404. 18 Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. 19 Brunckhorst, David J. 2000. Bioregional Planning: Resource Management beyond the New Millennium. Amsterdam: Harwood Academic, and Abingdon: Marston. Also see Giblett, Rod. 2011. People and Places of Nature and Culture. Bristol: Intellect. 20 “Integrated Marine and Coastal Regionalisation of Australia.” Australian Government, https://www.environment.gov.au/node/18075. 21 Brunckhorst, David. Bioregional Planning: Resource Management beyond the New Millennium. 22 Giblett, People and Places of Nature and Culture, 242. 23 Ibid., 239. 24 Clarke, Beverley, Laura Stocker, Brian Coffey, Peat Leith, Nick Harvey, Claudia Baldwin, Tom Baxter, Gonni Bruekers, Chiara Danese Galano, Meg Good, Marcus Haward, Carolyn Hofmeester, Debora Martins De Freitas, Taryn Mumford, Melissa Nursey-Bray, Lorne Kriwoken, Jenny Shaw, Janette Shaw, Tim Smith, Dana Thomsen, David Wood, and Toni Cannard. 2013. “Enhancing the
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Knowledge-governance Interface: Coasts, Climate and Collaboration.” Ocean & Coastal Management 86 (0): 88-99. doi: 10.1016/j.ocecoaman.2013.02.009. Also see Stocker, L., R. Kenchington, D. Kennedy, and A. Steven. 2012. “Introduction to Australian Coasts and Human Influences.” In Sustainable Coastal Management and Climate Adaptation, edited by R. Kenchington, L. Stocker and D. Wood, 1-27. Collingwood: CSIRO Publishing. 25 Stocker, et. al. “Introduction to Australian Coasts and Human Influences”. 26 Feng, Ming, Michael J McPhaden, Shang-Ping Xie, and Jan Hafner. 2013. “La Niña Forces Unprecedented Leeuwin Current Warming in 2011.” Scientific Reports 3 (9). doi: 10.1038/srep01277. 27 ADB. 2011. Guidelines for Knowledge Partnerships. Manila: Asian Development Bank. 28 Ibid. 29 Fletcher, W. J., J. Shaw, S. J. Metcalf, and D. J. Gaughan. 2010. “An Ecosystem Based Fisheries Management Framework: the Efficient, Regional-level Planning Tool for Management Agencies.” Marine Policy 34 (6):1226-1238. doi: 10.1016/j.marpol.2010.04.007. 30 Feng, et. al. “La Niña Forces Unprecedented Leeuwin Current Warming in 2011”. 31 Hobday, Alistair J. and Gretta T. Pecl. 2014. “Identification of Global Marine Hotspots: Sentinels for Change and Vanguards for Adaptation Action.” Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries 24: 415- 425. doi: 10.1007/s11160-013-9326-6. 32 Pearce, A, and M Feng. 2007. “Observations of Warming on the Western Australian Continental Shelf.” Marine and Freshwater Research 58 (10): 914-920. doi: 10.1071/MF07082. 33 Feng, et. al. “La Niña Forces Unprecedented Leeuwin Current Warming in 2011”. 34 Department of Fisheries. 2013. “Guidance Statement on Undertaking Seismic Surveys in Western Australian Waters.” Fisheries Occasional Publication No. 112, Government of Western Australia. http://www.fish.wa.gov.au/Documents/occasional_publications/fop112.pdf. Also see Bureau of Meterology. “Forecast Help.” Government of Western Australia. http://www.bom.gov.au/oceanography/forecasts/forecast-help.shtml, Accessed 2 May 2016. 35 We take “fishery” to mean to the whole combination of: species taken, people involved, area of water, means of fishing, type of boat and aim of the activities . 36 Shaw, Jenny. 2014. Climate Change Adaptation: Building Community and Industry Knowledge. Perth: FRDC. Also see Stocker, L., L. Collard, and A. Rooney. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability.” Local Environment (forthcoming). 37 “Kaya … Welcome!” Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. http://www.derbalnara.org.au, Accessed 1 May 2015. 38 Shaw, Jenny. 2013. Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers. Geraldton, Northern Agriculture Catchments Council.
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Collard, L. Harben, S. and R. van den Berg. 2004. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University. Perth: Murdoch University. Also see Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 40 “Historical Knowledge and Understanding–Year 2: The Past in the Present.” National Trust of Australia (WA). http://www.valuingheritage.com.au/samson_yr2/Year2ResourcesPreEuropeansettlementstories.pdf, Accessed 2 May 2016. Also see Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. “Katitjin | Stories.” http://www.derbalnara.org.au/origin-of-derbal-nara-1. Accessed 1 May 2015. 41 Karen Jacobs, personal communication. Also see Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. “Nyungar Boodjar | Country.” http://www.derbalnara.org.au/boodjar-a-changing-coastline, Accessed 1 May 2015. 42 Nannup, Noel. Interpretive signage. Rottnest Island. 43 This account suggests that sea level rise was experienced as a sudden flood(s), perhaps a storm surge(s), rather than gradual inundation. This interpretation is consistent with extreme events being important expressions of climate change. 44 Nannup, Interpretive signage. 45 Churchill, D. M. 1959. “Late Quaternary Eustatic Changes in the Swan River District.” Journal of the Royal Society of Western Australia (42): 53-55. 46 Ibid. 47 Colder sea temperatures result in lower sea levels because more water is locked up in ice sheets and glaciers, and also because water occupies a smaller volume when it is colder. 48 Churchill, “Late Quaternary Eustatic Changes in the Swan River District”. 49 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 50 Churchill, “Late Quaternary Eustatic Changes in the Swan River District”. 51 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 52 Churchill, “Late Quaternary Eustatic Changes in the Swan River District”. 53 Collins, L. 1988. “Sediments and History of the Rottnest Shelf, Southwest Australia: a Swell Dominated, Non-tropical Carbonate Margin.” Sedimentary Geology (60): 15-49. Also see Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 54 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 55 Ibid. Also see Collins, “Sediments and History of the Rottnest Shelf, Southwest Australia: a Swell Dominated, Non-tropical Carbonate Margin”. 56 Ibid. 57 Skene, Darren, David Ryan, Brendan Brooke, Jodie Smith, and Lynda Radke. 2005. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. Canberra: Geoscience Australia. 58 Ibid. 59 Collard, et. al. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch
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University. Also see Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 60 Collard, et. al. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University. 61 “Kaya … Welcome!” Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. 62 Graham, M. 1999. “Some Thoughts about the Philosophical Underpinnings of Aboriginal Worldviews.” Worldviews: Global Religions, Culture, and Ecology 3 (2): 105-118. 63 Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. “Nyungar Boodjar | Country.” 64 Collard, L. Harben, S. and R. van den Berg. 2004. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the use of Boodjar (country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University, Perth Western Australia. Murdoch University. Also see Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 65 Ibid. 66 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 67 Ibid. 68 Churchill, “Late Quaternary Eustatic Changes in the Swan River District”. 69 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 70 Collard, et. al. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University. Also see Graham, “Some Thoughts about the Philosophical Underpinnings of Aboriginal Worldviews”. 71 Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. “Moort | Family.” http://www.derbalnara.org.au/moort-totems. Accessed 1 May 2015. 72 Nannup, Interpretive signage. 73 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 74 Ibid. 75 Collard, et. al. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University. 76 Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 77 Ibid. 78 Bates, Daisy. 1985. The Native Tribes of Western Australia. Canberra: National Library of Australia, 51. 79 Collard, et. al. Nidja Beeliar Boodjar Noonokurt Nyininy: a Nyungar Interpretive History of the Use of Boodjar (Country) in the Vicinity of Murdoch University. 80 Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 81 Ibid.
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Bessarab, D. and B. Ng’andu. 2010. “Yarning about Yarning as a Legitimate Method in Indigenous Research.” International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies 3 (1): 37-50. 83 Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 84 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid. 87 Ibid. 88 Hatcher, B., G. H. Kirkman, and W. F. Wood. 1987. “Growth of the kelp Ecklonia Radiata Near the Northern Limit of its Range in Western Australia.” Marine Biology 95 (1): 63-73. doi: 10.1007/bf00447486. 89 Harris, Peter T., Andrew D. Heap, Tanya Whiteway and Alix Post. 2008. “Application of Biophysical Information to Support Australia's Representative Marine Protected Area Program.” Ocean & Coastal Management 51 (10): 701711. doi:10.1016/j.ocecoaman.2008.07.007. 90 Fletcher, W. J., and K. Santoro. 2014. “Status Reports of the Fisheries and Aquatic Resources of Western Australia 2013/14: The State of the Fisheries.” In The State of the Fisheries, edited by W. J. Fletcher and K. Santoro. Western Australia: Department of Fisheries. 91 Caputi, Nick. 2008. “Impact of the Leeuwin Current on the Spatial Distribution of the Puerulus Settlement of the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) and Implications for the Fishery of Western Australia.” Fisheries Oceanography 17 (2):147-152. doi: 10.1111/j.1365-2419.2008.00471.x. Also see Caputi, N., S. De Lestang, M. Feng and A. Pearce. 2009. “Seasonal Variation in the Long-term Warming Trend in Water Temperature off the Western Australian Coast.” Marine and Freshwater Research 60 (2):129-139. Also see Phillips, B F 1986. “Prediction of Commercial Catches of the Western Rock Lobster Panulirus cygnus.” Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences 43 (11):2126-2130. doi: 10.1139/f86261. Also see Phillips, B. F., P. A. Brown, D. W. Rimmer and D. D. Reid. 1979. “Distribution and Dispersal of the Phyllosoma Larvae of the Western Rock Lobster, Panulirus cygnus, in the South-eastern Indian Ocean.” Marine and Freshwater Research 30 (6):773-783. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.1071/MF9790773. 92 Caputi, “Impact of the Leeuwin Current on the Spatial Distribution of the Puerulus Settlement of the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) and Implications for the Fishery of Western Australia”. 93 De Lestang, S., M. Rossbach, G. Baudains and F. Trimme. 2014. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report.” In The State of the Fisheries, edited by Rick Fletcher and K. Santoro. Perth, WA: Department of Fisheries. Also see Fletcher, W. J., and K. Santoro. 2008. State of the Fisheries Report 2007/08. In State of the Fisheries. Perth, WA. 94 De Lestang, et. al. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 95 “Industry Notice Board”. Department of Fisheries, Western Australia http://www.fish.wa.gov.au/Fishing-and-Aquaculture/CommercialFishing/Commercial-Fishing-Management/Pages/Industry-Notice-Board.aspx.
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Reid, Chris. 2009. “An Analysis of Maximum Economic Yield in the Western Rock Lobster Fishery.” In Fisheries Occasional Publication No.60. Perth: Department of Fisheries. 97 De Lestang, Rossbach, Baudains and Trimme, “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 98 Caputi, Nick, Roy Melville-Smith, Simon de Lestang, Alan Pearce, and Ming Feng. 2010. “The Effect of Climate change on the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) Fishery of Western Australia.” Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences 67 (1): 85-96. doi: 10.1139/f09-167. Also see Caputi, N, A Pearce, and R Lenanton. 2010. “Fisheries-dependent Indicators of Climate Change in Western Australia.” In Fisheries Research Report No. 213, edited by Rick Fletcher. WA: WA Fisheries and Marine Research Laboratories. Also see De Lestang, et. al. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 99 Phillips, et. al. “Distribution and Dispersal of the Phyllosoma Larvae of the Western Rock Lobster, Panulirus cygnus, in the South-eastern Indian Ocean”. 100 De Lestang, et. al. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 101 Pearce and Feng, “Observations of Warming on the Western Australian Continental Shelf”. 102 Caputi, et. al. “The Effect of Climate change on the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) Fishery of Western Australia”. 103 Photo: L. Noble. 104 Shaw, Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers. 105 Shaw, Climate Change Adaptation: Building Community and Industry Knowledge. 106 G. Finlay. Personal Communication. 107 Shaw, Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers. 108 Shaw, Jenny, Laura Stocker, and Leonie Noble. 2015. “Climate Change and Social Impacts: Women's Perspectives from a Fishing Community in Western Australia.” Australian Journal of Maritime & Ocean Affairs 7 (01): 38-51. doi: 10.1080/18366503.2015.1014016. 109 Kennedy, “Ocean Views,” 144-171. 110 Schabas, The Natural Origins of Economics, 35- 40. 111 Caputi, “Impact of the Leeuwin Current on the Spatial Distribution of the Puerulus Settlement of the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) and Implications for the Fishery of Western Australia”. Also see Phillips, “Prediction of Commercial Catches of the Western Rock Lobster Panulirus cygnus”. 112 Caputi, et. al. “The Effect of Climate change on the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) Fishery of Western Australia”. Also see Caputi, et. al. “Fisheries-dependent Indicators of Climate Change in Western Australia.”. Also see De Lestang, et. al. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 113 De Lestang, S., N. Caputi, J. How, R. Melville-Smith, A. Thomson and P. Stephenson. 2012. “Stock Assessment for the West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery.” WA Fisheries and Marine Research Laboratories: Fisheries Research Division. 114 Shaw, Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers.
Cultural Models on the Western Australian Coast 115
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Feng, et. al. “La Niña Forces Unprecedented Leeuwin Current Warming in 2011”. 116 Name withheld. April 3 2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 117 Name withheld. May 1 2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 118 Name withheld. May 2 2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 119 Shaw, Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers. 120 Name withheld. August 10 2013. Geraldton, WA 121 Name withheld. August 9 2013. Geraldton, WA 122 Name withheld. August 10 2013. Geraldton, WA 123 Fletcher, W, and K Santoro. 2010. State of the Fisheries and Aquatic Resources Report 2009/10. In State of the Fisheries and Aquatic Resources Report, edited by W. Fletcher and K. Santoro. Perth: Fisheries Research Division. 124 Fletcher, W. J., D. J. Gaughan, S. J. Metcalf and J. Shaw. 2012. “Using a Regional Level, Risk-Based Framework to Cost Effectively Implement Ecosystem-Based Fisheries.” In Global Progress in EBFM. Alaska Sea Grant, edited by G. H. Kruse et al., 129-146. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Fairbanks. 125 Shaw, Stocker and Noble, “Climate Change and Social Impacts: Women's Perspectives from a Fishing Community in Western Australia”. 126 Ibid. 127 Name withheld 1.5.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 128 Name withheld 1.5.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 129 Name withheld 10.8.2013. Geraldton, WA 130 Name withheld 1.5.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 131 Name withheld 9.8.2013. Geraldton, WA 132 Name withheld 30.4.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 133 Caputi, “Impact of the Leeuwin Current on the Spatial Distribution of the Puerulus Settlement of the Western Rock Lobster (Panulirus cygnus) and Implications for the Fishery of Western Australia”. 134 De Lestang, et. al. “West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery Status Report”. 135 Department of Fisheries. "West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery.” Government of Western Australia. http://www.fish.wa.gov.au/Fishing-andAquaculture/Commercial-Fishing/Commercial-Fishing-Management/Pages/WestCoast-Rock-Lobster-Fishery.aspx, Accessed 2 May 2016. 136 De Lestang, et. al. “Stock Assessment for the West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery”. 137 Department of Fisheries. "West Coast Rock Lobster Fishery”. 138 Name withheld 10.2.2014. Abrolhos Islands, WA 139 Name withheld 4.4.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 140 Shaw, Climate Change Adaptation: Building Community and Industry Knowledge. 141 Name withheld 2.5.2012. Abrolhos Islands, WA 142 Smyth, “Sociocultural Considerations: Saltwater Country”. Department of the Environment. Also see Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”.
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This interpretation is confirmed by Elder Fred Collard in his account at Nyungar Wardan Katitjin Bidi–Derbal Nara. “Nyungar Boodjar | Country.” 144 Skene, et. al. The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound. 145 Thompson, “Cultural Models and Shoreline Social Conflict”. Also see Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. 146 Escobar, “Whose Knowledge, Whose Nature? Biodiversity, Conservation, and the Political Ecology of Social Movements”. 147 Hedlund-de Witt, Annick, Joop de Boer, and Jan J. Boersema. 2014. “Exploring inner and outer worlds: A quantitative study of worldviews, environmental attitudes, and sustainable lifestyles.” Journal of Environmental Psychology 37 (0):40-54. doi: /10.1016/j.jenvp.2013.11.005. 148 Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 149 Bhabha, Homi. 1994. The Location of Culture, The Location of Culture. London: Routledge. 150 Dodson, M. 1995. “Indigenous Peoples, Social Justice and Rights to the Environment.” Ecopolitics IX Conference Proceedings, Northern Territory University, Darwin. 151 Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 152 Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. Also see Thompson, “Cultural Models and Shoreline Social Conflict”. 153 Ibid. 154 Relph, “Sense of place”. 155 Shaw, Seeing Change: A Photographic Story from Abrolhos Fishers. 156 Kane, “Sustainability Concepts: From Theory to Practice”. Also see Robinson, J. 2004. “Squaring the Circle? Some Thoughts on the Idea of Sustainable Development.” Ecological Economics 48 (4): 369-384. Also see Stocker and Kennedy, “Cultural Models of the Coast: Towards Sustainability”. Also see Stocker, Laura, Gary Burke, Deborah Kennedy, and David Wood. 2012. “Sustainability and Climate Adaptation: Using Google Earth to Engage Stakeholders.” Ecological Economics 80 (0):15-24. doi: 10.1016/j.ecolecon.2012.04.024. 157 Newman, Peter. 2003. Hope for the Future: The Western Australian State Sustainability Strategy. Edited by Department of the Premier & Cabinet. Perth: Government of Western Australia. 158 Fletcher, W. J., and Western Australia Fisheries Dept. 2002. Policy for the Implementation of Ecologically Sustainable Development for Fisheries and Aquaculture within Western Australia. Perth: Depatment of Fisheries. Also see Fletcher, et. al., “An Ecosystem Based Fisheries Management Framework: the Efficient, Regional-level Planning Tool for Management Agencies”. 159 Fletcher, et. al., “An Ecosystem Based Fisheries Management Framework: the Efficient, Regional-level Planning Tool for Management Agencies”. 160 Giblett, People and Places of Nature and Culture, 242. 161 Ibid, 229.
Figure 6.2. Digital elevationn model of Rottn nest Shelf and P erth Coastal Plain.1
Figure 6.4. Brrightly colouredd camps on onee of the Islands of the Abrolhos.
m Bussellton. Figure 7.2. Cooastal hazard mapping,
Cultural Models on the Western Australian Coast 162
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Stocker and Netherwood, “Children Caring for the Coast: A Values Education Project on Sustainability in Place”. 163 Dodson, “Indigenous Peoples, Social Justice and Rights to the Environment”. 164 Brunckhorst, David. Bioregional Planning: Resource Management beyond the New Millennium. 165 Dodson, “Indigenous Peoples, Social Justice and Rights to the Environment”. Also see ADB. Guidelines for Knowledge Partnerships. 166 ADB. Guidelines for Knowledge Partnerships. 167 Ibid. Also see Clarke, et. al. “Enhancing the Knowledge-governance Interface: Coasts, Climate and Collaboration”. Also see Shaw, Jenny, Laura Stocker, and Chiara Danese Galano. 2013. “Spanning the Boundary between Climate Science and Coastal Communities: Opportunities and Challenges.” Ocean & Coastal Management 86: 80-87. doi: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.ocecoaman.2012.11.008. Stocker, et. al. “Sustainability and Climate Adaptation: Using Google Earth to Engage Stakeholders”. Stocker, L., D. Kennedy, S. Metcalf, J. Dambacher, G. Middle and D. Wood. 2012. “Modelling Coastal Planning in Southwest Western Australia: Complexity, Collaboration and Climate Adaptation.” In MODSIM 2011: 19th International Congress on Modelling and Simulation, edited by F. Chan, D. Marinova and R. Anderssen, 2996-3002. Perth: Modelling and Simulation Society of Australia and New Zealand. 168 Cash, David W, Jonathan C. Borck, and Anthony G. Patt. 2006. “Countering the Loading-dock Approach to Linking Science and Decision Making Comparative Analysis of El Niño/Southern Oscillation (ENSO) Forecasting Systems.” Science,Technology, & Human Values 31 (4): 465-494. Clarke, et. al. “Enhancing the knowledge–governance interface: Coasts, climate and collaboration.” Also see Shaw, et. al. “Spanning the Boundary between Climate Science and Coastal Communities: Opportunities and Challenges”. Also see Shaw, Climate Change Adaptation: Building Community and Industry Knowledge. 169 Kinnane, “Indigenous Sustainability: Rights, Obligations and a Collective Commitment to Country. 170 Dodson, “Indigenous Peoples, Social Justice and Rights to the Environment”. Also see Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 171 For principles of working collaboratively and equitably in coastal management see Stocker, et. al. “Aboriginal World views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability”. 172 Escobar, “Whose Knowledge, Whose Nature? Biodiversity, Conservation, and the Political Ecology of Social Movements”.
CHAPTER SEVEN A COLLABORATIVE APPROACH TO COASTAL ADAPTATION TO SEA LEVEL RISE IN THE SOUTHWEST OF WA LAURA STOCKER, GARY BURKE, SVETLA PETROVA AND BOB POKRANT1
We argue in this chapter that an important key to climate adaptation on the coast is the development of a collaborative, learning based approach among scientists, professionals, stakeholders, the government and the community. This can be enacted through a deliberative, participatory mapping methodology which can result in the critical co-production of knowledge about coastal adaptation. Conceptually, our work is framed by the notions of reflexive governance and a transdisciplinary approach to decision-making. We introduce our chapter with a review of the likely impacts of sea level rise on the southwest coast of Western Australia (WA) and the key theoretical literatures on which we draw. Next we present a detailed geographical context and methodology for the action-research workshop we developed in the City of Busselton, which is highly vulnerable to storm surge and inundation from sea level rise. Our findings are both substantive and methodological. Using before and after surveys, we find that our workshop methodology produced a positive effect on participants’ levels of knowledge, concern and intended behaviour about coastal adaptation. Participants reported high levels of concern about a range of social, cultural and economic impacts, especially in relation to the loss of the foreshore, jetty and central business district (CBD) of Busselton although ecological concerns were lower and ecological literacy was not well developed. Overall our mapping workshop showed the value of engaging scientists, local government, stakeholders and the community on issues of climate science and governance. The workshop described in this
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chapter was the first event in what will be a long term communication process by the City of Busselton.
Coast of WA and Sea Level Rise The southwest coast of WA lies on the eastern Indian Ocean. Geomorphologists2 and Indigenous sources3 provide accounts of sea level changes along the coast of WA during the Quaternary period. The southwest coast of WA is a globally significant biodiversity hotspot and contains some of the fastest growing local government areas in Australia. These offer great sea change appeal because of their long white beaches and easy lifestyle.4 However, pressure on the coastal zone is mounting from population growth, urban and industrial development, a loss of ecosystems and pollution. Climate change is already intensifying these pressures.5 Sea levels will likely rise on the coast of Western Australia by up to 0.9 metres by the end of the century, causing marine inundation, storm surges, raised water tables and increased coastal erosion.6 Ongoing impacts are expected on coastal ecosystems, public beaches, infrastructure, housing, land tenure and commercial and recreational sites. Coastal decision-makers are struggling to deal with existing coastal issues, and climate change has added a new level of urgency and complexity.7 Coastal adaptation to sea level rise is an issue of significance for coastal planners in southwest WA. It has been formally addressed in the State Coastal Planning Policy (SPP2.6). 8 While this Policy and its guidelines represent a governance framework for coastal adaptation, there remains considerable social, policy and sustainability learning for communities, local governments and scientists. 9 The uncertainty and complexity of climate impacts on the coast means we need a governance system that is capable of “working deliberatively within imperfections.”10
Reflexive Governance, Deliberation and Transdisciplinarity Voß and Kemp characterise the process of “reflexive governance” as open, experimental and learning oriented.11 Interaction among different perspectives is fostered and uncertainties explored. This sort of interaction is well supported by deliberation and transdisciplinarity. A deliberative space allows for learning whereby different actors are exposed to each other’s perceptions, criteria and strategies.12 It is more
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than engagement, emphasising cooperation and “discourse characterised by reason-giving.”13 The deliberative space provides an opportunity to engage in transdisciplinary practice whereby scientists and non-scientists address a common issue and work towards innovative pathways that transcend standard responses. Transdisciplinarity recognises that on their own, many existing academic, state and civil institutions are inadequate to deal with policy issues and that administrative boundaries do not coincide across institutions, much less with ecosystem boundaries. 14 Transdisciplinarity therefore provides for: an overarching framework; interdisciplinary research; collaboration beyond academia; and expression of multiple values and interests.15 Thus, deliberation and transdisciplinarity can together move beyond single-discipline, expert-led, linear problem solving approaches. These attributes enable reflexive governance to account for interlinked socialecological system dynamics 16 and adopt a collaborative, learning based approach.17
Co-Production and Boundary Spanning A collaborative, learning based approach can result in the co-production of knowledge for planning.18 Boundary organisations provide a means of coproducing knowledge in challenging social spaces such as climate adaptation. Boundary organisations are social and organisational arrangements that play an enabling role at the interface between knowledge production and decision-making processes with the view of achieving a shared objective. 19 Successful boundary organisations have credibility with all parties and are able to maintain a bridging position irrespective of external pressures encountered while also meeting the requirements of the various parties at the interface.20 Boundary organisations can contribute to creating effective coproduction through enabling four institutional processes: convening (bringing stakeholders together face-to-face), translation (across ‘cultural’ and language boundaries), mediation (of conflict through procedural fairness) and collaboration. 21 These processes help ensure the salience, credibility and legitimacy of outcomes. It should be highlighted that these processes are analytical categories and in reality they intersect with each other at all times. In this project, the Curtin University Sustainability Policy Institute sought to function as the boundary organisation, enabling the four
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institutional processes described above and supporting a move towards reflexive coastal governance.
Aims To illustrate the value of a transdisciplinary and deliberative approach to climate change adaptation, this chapter reports on an action research workshop using Google Earth to engage community and stakeholders about coastal adaptation to climate change in the City of Busselton in southwest Western Australia. The workshop was the first phase in a larger and ongoing process of communication about coastal adaptation in the area and had both an “action” intent and a “research” intent. The first action aim was to develop shared and critical understandings among scientists, government, professionals and the community about coastal impacts of climate change. The second action aim was to develop participants’ literacy and social learning around coastal adaptation options. The third action aim was to support the City of Busselton in their decisionmaking and policy learning. The first research aim of the workshop was to illustrate a reflexive governance and transdisciplinary approach to decision-making using a deliberative, participatory mapping methodology. The second research aim was to assess the effects of the workshop on participants’ levels of knowledge, concern and intended behaviour about coastal adaptation. The third research aim was to document some of the key substantive values, concerns and pathways forward identified by workshop participants. The workshop results contributed to ongoing climate change and adaptation planning by the City of Busselton and the Peron Naturaliste Partnership and to the research findings of Curtin University and the CSIRO Coastal Collaboration Cluster.
Geographical Context and Methodological Approach City of Busselton The local government area of the City of Busselton lies on Geographe Bay in southwest WA. The City of Busselton is one member of the Peron Naturaliste Partnership, a regional grouping of local governments that have combined resources to respond to coastal climate change.22 The City of Busselton includes the settlements of Busselton, Dunsborough and Yallingup. Figure 7.1 shows the main settlement of Busselton which is the most vulnerable to sea level rise and the main focus of the results
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presented inn this chapter. The City of Busselton B has a population of o around 24 34,00023 witth a rapid average annual growth g rate off around four percent. p The populattion includes many m retireess and commutters for whom m the area has significaant sea changge appeal. Th he region has a Mediterran nean style climate, with warm sum mmer months and mild winter rainfaall. Main industries inn the area incclude winemaaking, dairy aand beef cattlle, sheep, mining, tourrism, timber, fishing f and vaarious creativee industries.
Figure 7.1. Loocation of Bussselton in the sou uthwest of WA..
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The limpid waters of Geographe Bay make the area a popular holiday destination and coastal playground with safe swimming, boating and fishing. Tourists use the extensive accommodation that has developed along the coast, from low budget camping options to high-end hotels. The area is also home to diverse ecosystems, enjoyed by residents and tourists but under pressure from urbanization, agriculture and climate change. The City of Busselton has a highly erosive coastline. It is also exposed to sea level rise, the effects of which include increasing coastal erosion and inundation from storm high tides. 25 Although rainfall is likely to decline in the area as a result of climate change, intense storm events could lead to a coincidence of flooding of the catchment and storm high tides, causing more extreme events. The question for the City is whether coastal adaption should focus on: managed retreat from the coast; in situ accommodation to sea level rise; construction of hard defences; and/or some combination of the three. These are complex and not purely technical issues and therefore the governance process needs to be more broadly consultative. Consequently, a “Community Awareness of Coastal Adaptation to Climate Change” workshop was designed and organised collectively by the City of Busselton, Peron Naturaliste Partnership, Curtin University and CSIRO Coastal Collaboration Cluster. In total, forty-eight people participated in the workshop. The recruitment of participants was carried out by the City of Busselton and Peron Naturaliste Partnership aiming to secure representation of various stakeholders including community groups, businesses, landowners, experts, government officials, youth (under 25 year olds) and the broader community. Invitations were sent out to 209 organisations and individuals in the Busselton area.
Workshop Stages and Participatory Google Earth Mapping There were six key stages of the workshop: 1. Welcoming participants and framing the workshop, including Aboriginal, local government and community perspectives. 2. Mapping coastal places of significance. 3. Identifying and mapping sustainability hotspots. 4. Providing information on science and governance by specialists. 5. Discussing and mapping the concerns of experts and publics about the sustainability hotspots.
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6. Discussing and mapping adaptive pathways for the hotspots. At the core of the workshop was participatory mapping. This brought together a wide range of stakeholders from state and local government and non-government sectors. Participants also included residents of the area with business, nature conservation, community and householder interests. Mapping was used to document participants’ views and enable focused deliberation. Mapping was both physical and digital. Participants were provided with a full colour A1 map of the City of Busselton coast, transparent overlays and coloured pens to record the outputs of each mapping activity. Participants were encouraged to draw and write on the overlays. Google Earth (GE) was used as a digital mapping tool for summarising and capturing the information during the three mapping sessions. A GE scribe was responsible for the GE mapping at each table. Each table was equipped with a laptop and a large screen, so that participants were able to see and interact with the GE mapping process. Instructions to participants were provided verbally prior to each of the mapping exercises. Additionally, a set of written instructions was available at each table. There were six tables, with eight people seated at each table: a facilitator, the GE scribe and approximately six participants. Participants were encouraged to share and discuss their views on the issues. The aim was to capture the diversity of views rather than reach consensus. It was the role of the facilitators at the tables to ensure that discussion occurred equitably and at a pace that enabled the scribe to document the discussion accurately, using direct quotes where possible. Facilitators and scribes were trained and experienced to varying degrees.
1. Welcoming and Framing The first stage of the workshop included several speakers who welcomed participants and helped frame the workshop, emphasising their own perspectives. These included: x x x x
Workshop introduction and explanation: Curtin University. Indigenous perspective: Wardandi Community representative. City of Busselton Council perspective: City Councillor. Community perspective on environmental and social attributes: South West Catchment Council Officer. x Overview of City of Busselton’s coastal management and adaptation: Director of Planning and Development Services.
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2. Identifying Places of Significance After the initial framing, participants were asked to discuss and map places that they considered important to them and the community in the foreshore area within four pre-determined layers of sustainability: social, cultural, ecological and economic. The four layers of sustainability were defined as follows. Social Layer The social layer comprises the places where people get together, “belong”, or organise to meet their needs. It may include the hospital, police station, library, pub, bike racks, bus system, ferry jetty, accommodation, boating, fishing, picnicking and other recreational sites. Cultural Layer The cultural layer comprises the special places where people make and share meaning, including Indigenous and other heritage sites, historical sites, performance areas, museums, galleries, pubs and interpretive signage. Ecological Layer The ecological layer comprises the places that have natural ecosystem values or that protect ecosystems, including beaches, bushland, recycling plant or renewable energy plant. Economic Layer The economic layer comprises the places where people earn or spend money and includes all phases of the life cycle of production/consumption/ waste disposal: critical infrastructure (sewerage, water, electricity, waste management, transport), shops, ferry terminal, bus tours, farms and tourism destinations/operations.
3. Identifying Sustainability Hotspots After mapping the four layers of sustainability, participants were asked to identify sustainability hotspots. Sustainability hotspots were defined as places that show significance in three or more layers. Hotspots were
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“placemarked” separately in Google Earth. These hotspots formed the focus for the second and third part of the mapping exercise, which involved identifying concerns and adaptive pathways. Each group discussed and documented their sustainability hotspots on the transparency map layer, and the scribe put the information in Google Earth using a designated icon within the relevant layer. Participants thus identified the key places for coastal management on which they further concentrated their deliberations regarding concerns and adaptation pathways.
4. Provision of Information At this stage of the workshop, several speakers presented specialist and largely technical information which included the governance framework, coastal science and an economic assessment of possible pathways. The specific topics were: x State Coastal Planning Policy SPP2.6: WA Planning Commission. x Science of climate hazards and impacts of sea level rise: Department of Transport. x Technical hazard maps: Peron Naturaliste Partnership. x Coastal adaptation options: Curtin University. x Costings of coastal adaptation pathways: Peron Naturaliste Partnership.
5. Identifying Concerns about Climate Change on Sustainability Hotspots Having mapped the sustainability hotspots and received specialist information, participants deliberated on their concerns about the impact of climate change and sea level rise on the hotspots. Drawing on the information presented, each group discussed and documented their concerns about the “hotspots” resulting from climate change or other related pressures on the transparency map layer and the scribe put the information into Google Earth using a distinctive icon. In the Findings section below, concerns are grouped by theme in the left hand column with specific examples of concerns listed across the table.
6. Identifying Adaptation Pathways for the Busselton Coast Having received specialist information, and after discussing the concerns related to climate change and sea level rise along the coast, participants
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deliberated about possible adaptive pathways for the coast to address the concerns raised about the hotspots previously identified and to capture their views about possible solutions and management mechanisms. Each group discussed and documented their proposed adaptive pathways for each of the hotspots on the transparency map layer and the scribe put this information into Google Earth using a distinctive icon. In the Findings section below, adaptive pathways are grouped by theme in the left hand column with specific examples of adaptations listed across the table.
Findings Workshop attendance Representatives of all stakeholder groups attended the workshop. Age percentiles were skewed towards over-fifties, with almost negligible participation by under-thirties and under-twenties. This reflects the high percentage of retirees with more “free time” to attend a workshop which was held in normal work hours. There was a female/male ratio of 30/70.
Impact of Sea Level Rise The specialist information presented at the workshop showed the likely impacts of sea level rise on the City of Busselton. It is projected that sea level rise will continue to accelerate over time under “business-as-usual” scenarios, resulting in up to 0.9 metre sea level rise over the next century. Notwithstanding some uncertainty around the rate of rise due to system indeterminacy, the trends are very clear. Soft shorelines will move inland. There will be an increase in the frequency and extent of storm inundation and some low-lying areas will become permanently flooded. The maps presented by the Peron Naturaliste Partnership (Figure 7.2)26 showed that erosion (blue lines at 2030 and 2070) could affect a 200m wide strip along the length of the coast. Inundation from storm surges could affect a larger area, covering most of the residential area seaward of the Vasse Estuary and landward of it in some areas (yellow line at 2030, red line at 2070). The mapping does not cover the whole City of Busselton but is indicative of the scale and severity of the likely impacts.
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Places of Significance The participants in the six groups identified 313 places of significance along the City of Busselton’s coastline. There were 93 places of significance in the economic layer, 84 places in the cultural layer, and 69 and 67 in the social and ecological layers respectively. Within the economic layer, marked places were predominantly linked to the tourism and wine industries as well as to property and business development in key areas such as the CBDs of both Busselton and Dunsborough and the Light Industrial Areas. The cultural layer represented mainly places linked to the beach and wine cultures as well as to European, Indigenous and environmental heritage more generally. The places with social significance represented mainly the social infrastructure of the area, including the jetty, beach, sports grounds, hospital, camping, cycling and recreational areas. The ecological layer covered places of particular importance for the iconic value of the area, including the beaches, wetlands and specific flora and fauna such as possums, quenda and peppermint trees.
Sustainability Hotspots 1.
Busselton CBD
2.
Busselton Foreshore and Jetty
3.
Ludlow Tuart Forest
4.
Vasse Wonnerup Wetland
5.
Port Geographe and Marina
6.
The Resort Strip Area
7.
Quindalup
8.
Road Link
9.
Dunsborough town
10. Dunsborough Foreshore 11. Meelup Regional Park 12. Toby’s Inlet
Table 7.1. Sustainability Hotspots.
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Hotspots Twelve hotspots emerged as of central importance to the participants through the mapping process (Table 7.1). Below we focus on two key hotspots, first the Busselton Jetty and Foreshore and second the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands, in order to demonstrate how people responded to climate threats. We chose these two example hotspots to represent a central built up area and a more natural area; together they include a diverse range of participant responses. Other hotspots reflected findings similar to these two. For each hotspot we describe its key features. We then present the participants’ concerns, grouped by emergent theme (left hand column) (Tables 7.1-7.4 and 7.6). Finally, we present the participants’ proposed adaptive pathways (Tables 7.6 and 7.8). It is notable that there is less data for the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands hotspot as participants spent less time on this hotspot, reflecting a lower level of interest. Busselton Jetty and Foreshore The Busselton jetty and foreshore are the main attractions of the City of Busselton for both tourists and locals. At 1.8 kilometres long it is the longest timber-piled jetty in the Southern Hemisphere. Construction of the Busselton Jetty began in 1865 and its length was extended sporadically for 90 years. It was used as a port until 1973, having serviced over 5,000 vessels. Once it closed to shipping, government maintenance ceased. The jetty’s recent renovation was achieved through a major community campaign and fresh local and state government funding. The Busselton Jetty is managed for recreational amenity by a community-run, not-forprofit association. A train runs out to the end of the jetty where there is an underwater observatory. Coastal inundation and erosion would impact strongly on the jetty and foreshore. Concerns As with most jetties in regional WA, the Busselton Jetty is seen as the beating heart of the community. Participants underscored the sense of place that has developed around the jetty and foreshore: “If we don’t have a jetty, we don’t have a town!” However, it is not just the jetty but the entire foreshore that is used by locals and visitors as a safe swimming beach and recreational destination. Comments reflected a wide range of concerns about possible losses (Tables 7.1-7.4).
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Adaptive Pathways The participants identified adaptive pathways for the Busselton jetty and foreshore (Table 7.5). In terms of how to adapt to sea level rise including inundation from storm surges and coastal erosion, there were two key lines of thought. The first was simply to build hard defences in the form of a seawall. One comment by a participant summarised this idea: “Build a defence line, protect it with a sea wall. From the jetty heading west, to beyond the hospital... including flood structure/mitigation gates.”
The second line of thought was to approach the issue a little more creatively with combinations of retreat, accommodation and protection. Comments included: “Innovative thinking.” “Manage impact of natural processes… pop in an artificial reef.” “Take different approaches to development… more hi-rise…no more coastal sprawl.” Social concerns Overall social loss
Loss of social access
Concern 1 Loss of sun, sand and holiday opportunities Limited beach access due to inundation
Loss of social experience
Loss of places where people socialise
Loss of specific social assets, events and amenities
Impact on the observatory, walkway, cycle way and other assets
Concern 2
Concern 3
Concern 4
Disruption to activities around the area Loss of Sea Rescue community facility for safety and education
Will make Busselton less attractive to live in Loss of Iron Man – an international event
Views impacted
Impact on the way people live in Busselton Loss of playing fields and outdoor recreational areas
Table 7.2. Social concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore.
Coastal Adaptation to Sea Level Rise in the Southwest of WA Cultural concerns Overall cultural loss
Loss of specific cultural sites
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Concern 1
Concern 2
Concern 3
Concern 4
Change culture of Busselton
Loss of heritage including buildings
Loss of cultural amenity
Loss of connection to sense of place
Loss of Pioneer Cemetery
Loss of historical flood gates
Historic Aboriginal fishing grounds inundated
Barnard Park historic site lost
Table 7.3. Cultural concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore. Ecological concerns General and specific losses
Concern 1
Concern 2
Concern 3
Concern 4
Loss of coastline
Loss of native vegetation, endangered flora, fauna, biodiversity and coral
Sea grass area will decrease in extent
Possible loss of peppermint trees habitat for possums, deep rooted protection
Table 7.4. Ecological concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore. Economic concerns Overall economic loss
Loss of infrastructure
Loss of industries
Concern 1 Economic uncertainty and disruption Loss of foreshore and jetty infrastructure Loss of tourism
Concern 2
Concern 3
Concern 4
Loss of stormwater infrastructure
Loss of Sea Rescue infrastructure
Loss of caravan park infrastructure
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Economic loss from loss of cultural amenity
Loss of financial assets Economic implications of adaptation
Investment value Big cost to save this area
Loss of revenue from the jetty
Loss of revenue from caravan parks
Cost for protecting assets
Subsequent loss of agricultural land by erosion and relocated residential areas
Sporting associations affected financially by loss of playing fields
Table 7.5. Economic concerns about impacts of sea level rise on the Busselton jetty and foreshore. Participants were asked to consider the costs and benefits of allowing nature to take its course. On the benefit side, this approach was perceived to be financially cheaper in the short term. On the costs side, all the losses discussed under Concerns were re-affirmed. Participants were asked to consider who would be the principal beneficiaries if we choose to protect the coast with engineered responses such as seawalls and groynes. In general the perception was that Busselton is the “cultural and economic centre for the region, all the stakeholders within the region benefit to some degree.” All local residents, tourists, holiday makers and coastal dwellers benefit from the protection of major infrastructure. The most wealthy, who live along the millionaire’s mile, will benefit as will businesses and residents at the west end, the high school, major sporting events and Coastcare volunteers. Benefits vary depending on levels of commercial or residential investment in properties and businesses. Participants were asked to consider who should pay for coastal adaptation and several models were suggested. One model was that all taxpayers bear the cost equally. This model could be enacted for example through Commonwealth funds flowing directly to the City of Busselton.
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A second model was based on mixed contribution. The most common suggestion was that the Commonwealth, State and local governments could share the costs and demarcate roles. The Commonwealth was seen as the government with the most funds and the local government with the least. Suggestions for the State’s role included that: “The State Government’s role may be to help manage the institutional arrangements for the whole of the adaptation process and oversee what happens in the local Governments around the State.”
The role of the City of Busselton was seen as problematic. On one hand, it is normally the local government’s role to implement coastal management but on the other hand the City may not have the necessary funds for it. One solution offered was that the City could charge a special area levy to fund any defensive works for those residents and businesses located closest to the sea, given that they would derive the most immediate benefit from any defensive works. Another option considered was to establish a future fund with a levy for ongoing works. Participants considered that obtaining funds was urgent and should be continual. Vasse Wonnerup Wetlands The Vasse Wonnerup wetlands have been heavily used by the traditional owners, the Wardandi people of the area. The Sabina and Abba27 Rivers of the system contain Wardandi cultural heritage sites. Wonnerup means “place of the women’s digging or fighting stick.”28 Prior to the 1950's the wetlands were saline. Floodgates were installed to protect the area and it became fresher. The wetlands are a ramifying system with a very narrow connection to the sea. The system incorporates a coastal brackish lagoon with seasonal pools and irregularly flowing creeks as well as freshwater, treedominated wetlands with some freshwater swamps and bushland. 29 More than 20,000 waterbirds use the Ramsar-listed site each year, including Rednecked Avocets and Black-winged Stilts, Wood Sandpiper, Sharp-tailed Sandpiper, Long-toed Stint, Curlew Sandpiper and Common Greenshank. It also supports the largest breeding colony of Black Swan in Western Australia. Parts of the wetland are used for summer grazing by cattle. Other items of heritage value include the 1927 floodgates on the Vasse and Wonnerup Estuaries outlet channels.30 The urban area of Busselton, including a large canal estate residential subdivision, Port Geographe, currently surrounds much of the Vasse Estuary. The area is used mostly for conservation, nature-based activities, residential areas, farming and tourism.
Introduce planning mechanism and development concepts for adaptation Retreat: Relocation after policies on avoidance put in place
Innovative strategic thinking about urban design and building approaches
Avoid: Avoid putting infrastructure and concentration of amenities in harm’s way
Adaptation 2
Adaptation 1
Accommodate: Optional development concepts such as floating/stilt houses; shorter term lease-hold
Develop adaptation plan
Adaptation 3
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Table 7.6. Adaptive pathways for the Busselton jetty and foreshore.
hierarchy
adaptation
Coastal
Adaptive pathways Overall strategies
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Protect / Defend: Soft protection Beach renourishment and revegetation at Bernard park; work with the existing East Foreshore Management Plan. Hard defence Build a sea wall along foreshore Defend main infrastructure Include flood structure/mitigation gates Change drainage to protect urban areas
Adaptation 4
Loss of tourism, including international bird tourism
Concern 1 Impact of loss of wetlands on people's sense of place Loss of cultural value for local and Wadandi people Wetland may become more saline
Negative impact on adjoining farmland
Change of species configurations with loss of habitats and vegetation
Concern 2 Health issues related to mosquitoes
Loss of habitat for important local endemic species, some threatened, e.g. possums and skinks Negative impact on role of drains in flood control
Concern 3 Linking road will be destroyed
Highly important for migratory birds: can affect ecology at a global scale
Concern 4 Loss of recreational amenity as environmental values decline
Table 7.7. Concerns about impacts of sea level rise on Vasse Wonnerup wetlands.
Economic
Ecological
Cultural
Concerns Social
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Concern 5 Residential values heavily impacted
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Concerns Concerns were expressed about the likely decline of the ecology of the wetlands (Table 7.6). For some participants the wetlands have intrinsic value. However, for other participants, the wetlands have amenity value. Their concerns were derivative as many social, cultural and economic values depend on the ecological health of the area. Comments included: “It’s a recreational area because of its environmental values;” and, “People don’t like to live and recreate around smelly, deteriorated ecological systems.” Cultural impacts, such as on the Wadandi people, were mentioned. Economic and social concerns also included impacts on the road, drains and farmland in the area, independent of the wetlands. Adaptive Pathways The adaptive pathways identified for the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands indicated that participants were much more willing to allow the coastline to retreat and let nature take its course (Table 7.7) than for the Busselton Foreshore and Jetty. This would mean allowing the wetlands returning to their pre-1950s saline state. Comments included: “No defence–let it go back to saline, let nature take its course.” Adaptive pathways Overall strategies
Adaptation 1 Needs a coordinated approach and integrated framework to ensure all of the values are considered
Adaptation 2 Engineering solutions don't work on environmental assets
Adaptation 3
Adaptation 4
Need to build resilience in ecological communities
Let nature take its course
Costs and benefits of allowing nature to take its course
New ecological communities may evolve
May attract different types of birds visiting
RAMSAR wetlands would be changed and could lose its status
Table 7.8. Adaptive pathways for the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands.
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For some participants there was a philosophical appeal to letting nature take its course; however for others this was about the cost and unfeasibility of attempting engineering solutions (Table 7.8). It was clearly recognised that the wetlands ecosystem would change substantially, including losses and gains of species. This may lead to the wetlands losing its Ramsar status. Effectiveness of the Workshop In pre and post workshop surveys, participants self-assessed their own levels of knowledge, concern and intended/active involvement in climate change (CC) and coastal planning (CP) adaptation. ͷͲ Ͷͷ ͶͲ ͵ͷ ͵Ͳ ʹͷ ʹͲ ͳͷ ͳͲ ͷ Ͳ
ǦǦ
Ǧ Ǧ
Figure 7.3. Participants’ climate-change knowledge, concerns and involvement before / after workshop.
Figure 7.3 illustrates respondents’ self-assessment on their levels of knowledge, concern and involvement in climate change and coastal adaptation before and after the workshop. The results indicate improved knowledge of climate change implications to coastal planning after the workshop, shifting from average to high. After the workshop the level of concern about climate change had also increased. Respondents reported a higher level of intended involvement in issues related to the problems discussed at the workshop. The shape of the graph sharpens around the “high” level, an indication that many of those participants with lower
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levels of kknowledge, aw wareness and d intended beehaviour join ned those participants with existing high levels. In the ppost workshopp survey, partticipants idenntified which activities helped furthher develop their shared understandinng of the im mpacts of climate channge on the coaast. The threee main activitties of the wo orkshop – speaakers and pan nel, group discussions and the Gooogle Earth mapping m helpeed participantts almost equally to develop a shhared understtanding of thhe impacts off climate change on thhe coast (Figuure 7.4). 31
ͳͺ
ͳ
ͳͶ
Ͳ
ͷ
ͳͲ
ͳͷ
ʹͲ
Figure 7.4. A Activities contribbuting to shared d knowledge deevelopment
Colllaborative Approach to Coastall Adaptatio on Adaptation to climate change c in co oastal Australlia is an inccreasingly important reesearch and poolicy goal. Th his chapter hass argued that achieving a these goals can be imprroved by ado opting a refleexive governance and transdiscipliinary approacch to decision-making, w which makes use of a deliberative,, participatoryy mapping meethodology. Thhe City of Busselton in southwest A Australia wass appropriate to illustrate the value off such an approach duue to the cityy’s vulnerability to sea levvel rise. The approach seeks to moove beyond traditional t sciientific practiice based on applying science throough an experrt-driven, lineear, problem-ssolving frameework. In contrast, wee brought toggether diversee disciplinaryy experts, gov vernment, business annd the widerr community y in a collab aborative, opeen-ended, experimentaal and learningg oriented process.32 The prooject drew onn a workshop p format to encourage in nteraction among diffeerent perspectiives and explo ore uncertaintiies. The work kshop was
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framed using reflexive governance, transdisciplinarity and deliberation; it used participatory mapping as a method. The transdisciplinary approach brought together not just the physical sciences but a range of academic disciplines including social, cultural, ecological and economic research.33 In addition, the project engaged a diverse range of non-specialist stakeholders, including decision-makers, NGOs, Indigenous people, specific interest groups and the broad community in a shared learning process that drew on multiple knowledges and value systems in the deliberative process.34 The principles of deliberation35 are widely recognised as an important facet of participatory sustainability36 including high order learning in the coastal adaptation space. 37 This process of constructing knowledge socially, of bringing together science with other knowledge and value systems, does not happen effectively by chance. In our work, the Curtin University Sustainability Policy Institute took on the role of boundary organisation in order to enable the coproduction of value sets, issues and adaptive pathways. This role required designing a workshop in which the institutional processes of convening, translating, mediating and coproducing were likely to occur. 38 Deliberation can support either consensual or pluralist outcomes, that is, either where consensus is sought as the basis for a binding decision, or where plural values are represented.39 In our own workshop process, no consensus was required and a plurality of views was recorded. The idea of defending built up areas and letting natural areas recede was broadly supported by the participants. Dissenting views about the logistic, equity-based and financial challenges to this approach were also documented. Spatially explicit participatory processes are well documented means of effectively sharing information.40 Participatory mapping conceptualises maps as fields of power relations and exploratory environments in which knowledge is socially constructed, not as stable, objective information sets.41 We used a combination of both physical maps and Google Earth42 as a readily accessible mixed platform for participants.43 All participants were in principle equally empowered to map their values and ideas onto the maps. Trained scribes and facilitators managed conflict and enhanced the space for “quiet voices.” These roles were highly challenging. Training of facilitators and scribes, together with the clear articulation of rules of engagement at the start of the workshop, encouraged participants to behave respectfully. An important research aim was to assess the effects of the workshop on participants’ levels of knowledge, concern and intended behaviour about coastal adaptation. To determine this, before and after surveys and
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independent observer assessments were done. Results showed an improved understanding of climate science, the likely impacts of climate change and proposals to ameliorate such impacts. Results also captured a wide range of local concerns. However, despite earnest attempts to attract diverse participants, the workshop demographic was biased towards older Anglo-Australian men. Future research will require a more representative sample of the local demographic profile. Also, no participant expressed denial or disbelief or challenged the climate science underlying the modelling and mapping that were presented, which may have reflected a degree of self-selection among workshop participants and the framing of the workshop by expert participants in terms of acceptance of the science and the likely consequences of climate change. No explicit attempt was made to include climate change deniers and the workshop did not create opportunities for participants to express disbelief or doubts about the science. It has been argued that: “Most people prefer denial and self-deception to an unvarnished vision of the truth when intractable problems such as peak energy and climate change are at stake. In such cases, scientists are in a double bind: they are damned if they do and doomed if they do not engage in post-normal science.”44
Our results question this claim. Indeed, our project showed the value of engaging stakeholders and the community with issues of climate science and governance – albeit within a limited demographic group. However, we argue that one reason for denial or self-deception is that the problem is often framed in abstract, even apocalyptic, terms and that what we attempted to do was re-frame the issue in local and concrete terms to draw on the community’s own personal and social experiences as well as the more general science of climate. Engaging non-scientists with scientists provided a forum not only to recognise the complexity of finding pathways through climate change and sustainability issues but also allowed a more open and non-threatening form of deliberation in which science was one among several epistemologies and bases for action. Pathways to sustainability involve not only addressing complex issues in scientific terms but also a commitment to a wider social agenda in which scientists are fully engaged with decision-makers and the public. In relation to the role of this workshop in influencing ongoing decision-making, the City of Busselton have begun to set out a process to develop an overall adaptation plan with specific officer recommendations to Council, drawing on our workshop findings amongst other studies. The
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Council currently favours a pathway that is mostly about the hard protection of the coast in the major areas of settlement, but not in the relatively undeveloped areas between Quindalup and Abbey, and east from Wonnerup. A managed realignment approach will likely be applied in those areas whereby buildings and infrastructure will be removed ahead of coastal erosion. The Council has allocated funds for a twenty-five year coastal protection plan for the north and south of Busselton, is exploring putting notification on titles of at-risk houses, advising future buyers of the coastal hazard and will require coastal risk issues to be considered in local coastal planning policy. It also plans to establish a coastal adaptation reserve. A key issue in assessing the value of locally based forms of deliberative governance is their relation to wider political and economic structures and ongoing funding and responsibility. Many parts of the coast of WA are vulnerable to storm surge and inundation from sea level rise. While local governments have direct responsibility, their actual ability to fund implementation of measures endorsed by local communities and their governments will be limited without state or federal government support. Workshop participants, including state and local government representatives, actively discussed and clearly recognised that a collaborative approach to planning with a shared funding model is most likely to succeed. Such an approach represented a compromise between local autonomy and topdown direction. However, there remains the continuing problem of the power that wider political structures retain over the allocation and direction of funding, something that the local government and its constituent communities have less control over. Thinking about improvements to governance, including policies, plans and decisionmaking processes, is at the heart of reflexive governance. The importance of more reflexive and collaborative approaches to coastal governance has been recognised by academics for at least a decade. 45 The present workshop supports this case. However, collaborative approaches to decision-making still face constraints within a liberal democratic society, much less an authoritarian society. The project also aimed to document some of the key substantive values, concerns and pathways forward identified by workshop participants. It became clear that the participants in the workshop were more than rational problem solvers in which workshop activity was merely a tool to achieve particular outcomes. In documenting sense of place,46 we found participatory mapping was effective in evoking “the lived experience of social, cultural, and political issues related to place.”47 This at times led some participants to express a corresponding sense of
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overwhelming loss, to the point that they struggled to concentrate enough to analyse the projected impacts systematically. Dealing with what might be seen as a threat to people’s “ontological security,” it is important that workshop participants and facilitators use their emotional intelligence with those affected to refocus them sensitively on the task at hand.48 There is a broader issue of the emotional impacts of climate change: governments and the third sector will need to respond actively to such impacts arising from climate change. 49 These impacts may include the loss of trust in existing systems caused by climate change.50 Trust can be rebuilt to some extent by creating dialogical relationships with divergent publics.51 Participants reported high levels of concern about social, cultural and economic impacts. Ecological concerns were lower, except with regard to the Vasse Wonnerup wetlands. Even here, ecological literacy was low with few specific biota being named except for the charismatic species such as possums, quenda and peppermint trees. These results suggest that many participants were anthropocentric, prioritising their own livelihoods and lifestyles with ecological systems being important only in so far as they support these proximal human needs. In general, workshop participants expressed little understanding of the ultimate dependence of human survival on healthy ecosystems, and still less that non-human life has an ethical value in itself.52 However, a few participants took a more ecocentric approach and were strongly in favour of ecological protection for its intrinsic value. Initially, a key concern expressed was the loss of foreshore as this was considered to affect all aspects of sustainability. The adaptive pathway favoured by the majority of participants in residential and commercial areas was an infrastructural solution through building a sea wall along that portion of the coast. Further discussion revealed that this option would result in loss of beach, as the sea would inevitably reach up to the seawall. This led to a proposal that sand from offshore be brought in to renourish the beach. However, a coastal engineer from the Department of Transport highlighted that there was not enough sand in Geographe Bay to fulfill this proposal, as the layer of sand over the limestone bed is very shallow. This dialogue led to some willingness to think about more innovative options and/or retreat into areas of low building density, including ecological habitats. This thinking was also supported by the presence of a senior decision maker in the WA Planning Commission who outlined the relevant elements of the State Coastal Planning Policy in his talk and emphasised the importance of examining options such as retreat from the coast before resorting to hard defenses. The growing recognition of the complexity of the issue and the possibilities of alternative solutions led
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participants to want more information and ongoing communication and engagement with the adaptation process in Busselton. A final key issue raised by the workshop was how to fund coastal adaption and whose responsibility it was. While participants supported a shared funding model for social, cultural and ecological assets, there was less agreement on the extent to which the government(s) or the broader community should fund the protection of the private property of wealthy “front-row” residents or commercial activities. This suggests that participants were aware of the unequal levels of socio-economic vulnerability in the community and that some residents were in a better position to fund their own adaptation. However, as noted earlier, the City of Busselton opted for a response-to-physical hazard solution based on hard engineering strategies rather than looking at the wider relationship between socio-economic vulnerability and adaptation pathways.
Notes 1
This research was undertaken through a partnership between the Coastal Collaboration Cluster and the Peron Naturaliste Partnership. Funding came from the CSIRO Flagship Collaboration Fund and Coastwest–a state government initiative aimed at providing opportunities for Western Australians to learn about, conserve and protect our coast. Resources also came from the City of Busselton. 2 Brooke, B, J Creasey, and M Sexton. “Geomorphology of the Perth Coast and Rottnest Shelf - A Regional Analysis of Palaeoshoreline Features.” Geoscience Australia. Also see Sanderson, PG, I Eliot, B Hegge, and S Maxwell. 2000. “Regional Variation of Coastal Morphology in Southwestern Australia: A Synthesis.” Geomorphology 34 (1-2):73-88. Also see Skene, Darren, David Ryan, Brendan Brooke, Jodie Smith, and Lynda Radke. 2005. “The Geomorphology and Sediments of Cockburn Sound.” Geoscience Australia. 3 Stocker, L., L . Collard, and A. Rooney. 2015. “Aboriginal World Views and Colonisation: Implications for Coastal Sustainability.” Local Environment. DOI: 10.1080/13549839.2015.1036414. Also see Nannup, Noel. 2006. When the Sea Levels Rose. Perth: Swan Catchment Council. Audio compact disk. 4 Harvey, Nick, Dianne Rudd, and Beverley Clarke. 2008. “The ‘Sea Change’ Phenomenon in South Australia.” South Australian Geographical Journal 107: 69 - 85. 5 Stocker, L., D. Kennedy, S. Metcalf, J. Dambacher, G. Middle, and D. Wood. 2012. “Modelling Coastal Planning In Southwest Western Australia: Complexity, Collaboration and Climate Adaptation.” In MODSIM 2011: 19th International Congress on Modelling and Simulation, edited by F. Chan, D. Marinova and R. Anderssen, 2996-3002. Perth: Modelling and Simulation Society of Australia and New Zealand.
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Pattiaratchi, Charitha, and Matthew Eliot. 2005. “How Our Regional Sea Level Has Changed.” Climate Note. August 2. Also see Church, J.A, J.R Hunter, K.L McInnes, and N.J White. 2006. “Sea-Level Rise Around The Australian Coastline and The Changing Frequency of Extreme Sea-Level Events.” Australian Meterological Magazine 55 (4): 253 - 260. Also see Harvey, Nick, and Beverley Clarke. 2007. “Policy Implications for Australian Coastal Communities Affected by Sea-Level Rise.” Just Policy 46: 52 - 59. Also see Church, J. 2007. “Sea levels: Past, Present and Future.” Climate Change and the Coast, Mandurah. Also see Church, J.A, N.J White, J.R Hunter, K.L McInnes, P.J Cowell, and S.P O’Farrell. 2008. “Sea-Level Rise and The Vulnerability of Coastal Environments.” In Transitions: Transitioning to a Resilient City, edited by P Newman, 191- 210. Melbourne: CSIRO Publishing. Also see Hunter, J. R. 2008. “Estimating SeaLevel Extremes in a World of Uncertain Sea-Level Rise.” Climatic Change 99 (3 4): 331 - 350. doi: 10.1007/s10584-009-9671-6. Also see Church, J.A., P.L. Woodworth, T. Aarup, and W.S. Wilson. 2010. Understanding Sea-level Rise and Variability. Singapore: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Also see Bicknell, C. 2010. Sea Level Change in Western Australia. Perth: W.A. Department of Transport. 7 Stocker, L., D. Kennedy, R. Kenchington, and K Merrick. 2012. “Sustainable Coastal Management?” In Sustainable Coastal Management and Climate Adaptation, edited by R. Kenchington, L. Stocker and D. Wood, 29 - 50. Collingwood, Victoria: CSIRO Publishing. Also see Stocker, L., D. Kennedy, S. Metcalf, J. Dambacher, G. Middle, and D. Wood. 2012. “Modelling Coastal Planning in Southwest Western Australia: Complexity, Collaboration And Climate Adaptation.” In MODSIM 2011: 19th International Congress on Modelling and Simulation, edited by F. Chan, D. Marinova and R. Anderssen, 2996-3002. Perth: Modelling and Simulation Society of Australia and New Zealand. Also see Hofmeester, Carolyn, Brian Bishop, Laura Stocker, and Geoff Syme. 2012. “Social Cultural Influences on Current and Future Coastal Governance.” Futures 44 (8): 719-729. doi: 10.1016/j.futures.2012.04.002. Also see Harvey, N., Clarke, B., Pelton, N., Mumford, T. 2012. “Evolution of Sustainable Coastal Management and Coastal Adaptation to Climate Change in Australia.” In Sustainable Coastal Management and Climate Adaptation: Lessons From Regional Australia, edited by R. Kenchington, Stocker, L., Wood, D., 75 - 96. Collingwood, Victoria: CSIRO Publishing. 8 The Policy was amended in 2013 to allow for erosion caused by future sea level rise on a sandy coast at 100 times the adopted sea level rise value of 0.9m over a 100-year timeframe, or 90 metres. 9 Harvey, N., B. Clarke, and M. Nursey-Bray. 2012. “Australian Coastal Management and Climate Change.” Geographical Research. Also see NurseyBray, M., N. Harvey, and T. Smith. 2015. “Learning and Local Government in Coastal South Australia: Towards a Community Of Practice “Regional Environmental Change 15 (4). doi: 10.1007/s10113-015-0779-0. 10 Van der Sluijs, Jeroen. 2005. “Uncertainty as a Monster in the Science–Policy Interface: Four Coping Strategies.” Water Science & Technology 52 (6): 87 -92.
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Voß, Jan-Peter, and René Kemp. 2006. “Sustainability and Reflexive Governance.” In Reflexive Governance for Sustainable Development edited by JanPeter Voß and René Kemp, 3 - 28. Cheltenham, Glos and Northampton, MA: Edward Elgar Publishing Ltd. 12 Hartz-Karp, J., and L. Stocker. 2013. “Deliberative Democracy, a Collaborative Action Oriented Learning Process for a More Sustainable Future.” In Engaged Scholarship: The Politics of Engagement and Disengagement, edited by L. Shultz, Kajner, T., 121-138. Boston: Sense Publishers. 13 Hartz-Karp, J., and M. Briand. 2009. “Institutionalizing Deliberative Democracy.” Journal of Public Affairs 10 (1): 4. 14 Visser, Leontine E. 2004. “Reflections On Transdisciplinarity, Integrated Coastal Development and Governance.” In Challenging Coasts: Transdisciplinary Excursions into Integrated Coastal Zone Development, edited by Leontine E. Visser, 23-43. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. 15 Pereira, G., and SO Funtowicz. 2006. “Knowledge Representation and Mediation for Transdisciplinary Frameworks: Tools to Inform Debates, Dialogues & Deliberations.” International Journal of Transdisciplinary Research 1 (1): 3450. Also see Hirsch Hadorn, Gertrude, David Bradley, Christian Pohl, Stephan Rist, and Urs Wiesmann. 2006. “Implications of Transdisciplinarity for Sustainability Research.” Ecological Economics 60 (1):119-128. doi: 10.1016/j.ecolecon.2005.12.002. 16 Folke, Carl , Thomas Hahn, Per Olsson, and Jon Norberg. 2005. “Adaptive Governance of Social-Ecological Systems.” Annual Reviews: Environmental Resources 30 (1): 441 - 473. 17 Van de Kerkhof, Marleen, and Anna J Wieczorek. 2005. “Learning and Stakeholder Participation in Transition Processes Towards Sustainability: Methodological Considerations.” Technological Forecasting & Social Change 72 (6): 733 - 747. 18 Watson, Vanessa. 2014. “Co-Production and Collaboration in Planning – The Difference.” Planning Theory & Practice 15 (1):62-76. doi: 10.1080/14649357.2013.866266. Also see Cash, David W. , Jonathan C. Borck, and Anthony G. Patt. 2006. “Countering the Loading-Dock Approach to Linking Science and Decision Making Comparative Analysis of El Niño/Southern Oscillation (ENSO) Forecasting Systems.” Science, Technology & Human Values 31 (4): 465 - 494. 19 Lorenzoni, I., M. Jones, and J. R. Turnpenny. 2007. “Climate Change, Human Genetics, and Post-Normality in the U.K.” Futures 39 (1): 65-82. Also see Agrawala, S, K Broad, and D.H Guston. 2001. “Integrating Climate Forecasts and Societal Decision Making: Challenges to an Emergent Boundary Organization.” Science, Technology & Human Values 26 (4):454-477. Also see Cash, D., Adger, N., Berkes, F., Garden, P., Lebel, L., Olsson, P., Pritchard, L., Young, O., 2004. 2004. “Scale and Cross-Scale Dynamics: Governance and Information in a MultiLevel World.” Millennium Ecosystem Assessment Bridging Scales and Epistemologies Conference, Alexandria, 17—20 March 2004.
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20 Agrawala, S, K Broad, and D.H Guston. 2001. “Integrating Climate Forecasts and Societal Decision Making: Challenges to an Emergent Boundary Organization.” Science, Technology & Human Values 26 (4): 454-477. 21 Cash, David W. , Jonathan C. Borck, and Anthony G. Patt. 2006. “Countering the Loading-Dock Approach to Linking Science and Decision Making Comparative Analysis of El Niño/Southern Oscillation (ENSO) Forecasting Systems.” Science, Technology & Human Values 31 (4): 469 - 470. 22 Peron Naturaliste Partnership. 2013. “Coastal adaptation – a cooperative regional approach.” http://peronnaturaliste.org.au/, Accessed 2 May 2016. 23 Australian Bureau of Statistics. 2011. “2011 Census Community Profiles, Busselton (S).” Australian Government. http://www.censusdata.abs.gov.au/census_services/getproduct/census/2011/commu nityprofile/510151260?opendocument&navpos=220. Accessed 2 May 2016. 24 City of Busselton. 2014. “Live.” http://www.busselton.wa.gov.au/DevelopingBusselton/Why-Busselton/Live. Accessed 2 May 2016. 25 Damara. 2012. “Peron-Naturaliste Coastal Adaptation Study 2012 – Regional and Local-scale Erosion and Coastal Flooding Hazard Assessments. Adaptation Studies to Support Development of Economic-based Assessment.” PeronNaturaliste Partnership. http://peronnaturaliste.org.au/?page_id=452, Accessed 2 May 2016. 26 Ibid. 27 Meaning “Hello!” in the Wardandi Nyungar language. 28 Collard, L. “Boodjar: Nyungar Placenames in the South-West of Western Australia.” University of Western Australia. http://www.boodjar.sis.uwa.edu.au/boodjar-placenames/Wonnerup. Accessed 2 May 2016. 29 Department of the Environment. 2016. “Vasse-Wonnerup System” Australian Government. http://www.environment.gov.au/cgi-bin/wetlands/ramsardetails.pl? refcode=38. Accessed 2 May 2016. 30 Department of Parks and Wildlife. 2014. “Information Sheet on Ramsar Wetlands.” Government of Western Australia. http://www.environment.gov.au/water/topics/wetlands/database/pubs/38-ris.pdf. Accessed 2 May 2016. 31 An independent review team from ACCARN also assessed the workshop and rated it very highly, commenting on good design, the visual nature of the mapping process, positive attitudes among participants and good facilitation. See “Development of a Pilot Coastal Community Adaptation Awareness Plan For City Of Busselton - October 2013.” Prepared by Philip Booth and Ron Cox, Australian Climate Change Adaptation Research Network for Settlements and Infrastructure (ACCARNSI). 32 Voßand Kemp. ““Sustainability and Reflexive Governance.”“ 33 Brandt, Patric, Anna Ernst, Fabienne Gralla, Christopher Luederitz, Daniel J. Lang, Jens Newig, Florian Reinert, David J. Abson and Henrik von Wehrden. 2013. “A Review of Transdisciplinary Research in Sustainability Science.” Ecological Economics 92: 1-15. doi: 10.1016/j.ecolecon.2013.04.008. Also see
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Dovers, Stephen 2005. “Clarifying the Imperative of Integration Research for Sustainable Environmental Management.” Journal of Research Practice 1 (2). Also see Kandiko, C. B. and P. Blackmore. 2008. “Institutionalising Interdisciplinary Work in Australia and the UK “ Journal of Institutional Research 14 (1): 87-95. 34 Smith, T. F, R.W. Carter, D. C. Thomsen, G. Mayes, M. Nursey-Bray, G. Whisson, R. Jones, S. Dovers and K. O’Toole. 2009. “Enhancing Science Impact in the Coastal Zone through Adaptive Learning.” Journal of Coastal Research 56 (2):1306-1310. Also see Kenchington, R., L. Stocker, and D. Wood. 2012. “Lessons from Regional Approaches to Coastal Management in Australia: a Synthesis.” In Sustainable Coastal Management and Climate Adaptation: Lessons from regional Australia, edited by R. Kenchington, L. Stocker and D. Wood. Collingwood: CSIRO Publishing. Also see Leith, P., Coffey, B., Haward, M., O’Toole, K., and S. Allen. 2012. “Improving science uptake in coastal zone management: principles for science engagement and their application in South East Tasmania.” In Sustainable Coastal Management and Climate Adaptation: Lessons from Regional Australia, edited by R. Kenchington, L. Stocker and D. Wood. Collingwood: CSIRO Publishing. 35 Hartz-Karp, Janette 2007. “Understanding Deliberativeness: Bridging Theory and Practice.” The International Journal of Public Participation, 1 (2). 36 Hartz-Karp, J., and L. Stocker. 2013. “Deliberative democracy, a Collaborative Action Oriented Learning Process for a More Sustainable Future.” In Engaged Scholarship: The Politics of Engagement and Disengagement, edited by L. Shultz, Kajner, T. , 121-138. Boston: Sense Publishers. 37 Kenchington, et. al. “Lessons from Regional Approaches to Coastal Management in Australia: a Synthesis”.” 38 Cash, David W. , Jonathan C. Borck, and Anthony G. Patt. 2006. “Countering the Loading-Dock Approach to Linking Science and Decision Making Comparative Analysis of El Niño/Southern Oscillation (ENSO) Forecasting Systems.” Science, Technology & Human Values 31 (4): 465 - 494. 39 Van Der Merwe, Rean, and Anthony Meehan. 2012. “Direct Deliberative Governance Online: Consensual Problem Solving or Accommodated Pluralism?” Journal of Information Technology & Politics 9 (1): 46-63. doi: 10.1080/19331681.2012.635963. 40 Stocker, Laura, Gary Burke, Deborah Kennedy, and David Wood. 2012. “Sustainability and Climate Adaptation: Using Google Earth to Engage Stakeholders.” Ecological Economics 80 (0): 15-24. doi: 10.1016/j.ecolecon.2012.04.024. Also see McCall, Michael K. 2003. “Seeking Good Governance in Participatory-GIS: A Review of Processes and Governance Dimensions in Applying GIS to Participatory Spatial Planning.” Habitat International 27 (4): 549-573. Also see McCall, Michael K. 2004. Can Participatory-GIS Strengthen Local-level Spatial Planning? Suggestions for Better Practice. Edited by Department of Urban & Regional Planning and GeoInformation Management, Enschede, The Netherlands.
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41 Crampton, J. W. 2001. “Maps as Social Constructions: Power, Communication and Visualization.” Progress in Human Geography 25 (2): 235-252. 42 Patterson, T. C. 2007. “Google Earth as a (not just) Geography Education Tool.” Journal of geography 106 (4): 145-152. 43 Stocker, et. al. “Sustainability and climate adaptation: Using Google Earth to Engage Stakeholders.” 44 Friedrichs, Jörg. 2011. “Peak Energy and Climate Change: the Double Bind of PostǦ Normal Science.” Futures 43 (4): 469Ǧ477. 45 Bainbridge, John Michael, Tavis Potts, and Tim Gerard O'Higgins. 2011. “Rapid Policy Network Mapping: A New Method for Understanding Governance Structures for Implementation of Marine Environmental Policy.” PLoS ONE 6 (10):e26149. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0026149. Also see Stocker, L., Kennedy, D., Metcalf, S., Dambacher, J., Middle, G., Wood, D. 2011. “Modelling Coastal Governance in the South West of Western Australia: Complexity, Collaboration And Climate Adaptation.” MODSIM2011: 19th International Congress on Modelling and Simulation, Modelling and Simulation Society of Australia and New Zealand. Perth, Western Australia, 12—16 Dec 2011. Also see Lazarow, N, R Fearon, R Souter, and S Dovers, eds. 2006. Coastal Management in Australia: Key Institutional and Governance Issues for Coastal Natural Resource Management and Planning. Indooroopilly: CRC for Coastal Zone, Estuary and Waterway Management. Also see Ehler, C.N. 2005. “Integrating Management of Marine Protected Areas with Coastal and Ocean Governance: Principles and Practices.” Ocean & Coastal Management 48: 843-846. Also see O’Riordan, Tim, Andrew R Watkinson, and Jessica Milligan. 2006. “Living with a Changing Coastline: Exploring New Forms of Governance for Sustainable Coastal Futures.” In Tyndall Centre Technical Report. Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research. Also see Abel, Nick, Russell Gorddard, Ben Harman, Anne Leitch, Jennifer Langridge, Anthony Ryan, and Sonja Heyenga. 2011. “Sea Level Rise, Coastal Development and Planned Retreat: Analytical Framework, Governance Principles and an Australian Case Study.” Environmental Science and Policy 14 (3):279-288. doi: 10.1016/j.envsci.2010.12.002. Also see Hofmeester, Carolyn, Brian Bishop, Laura Stocker, and Geoff Syme. 2012. “Social Cultural Influences on Current and Future Coastal Governance.” Futures 44 (8):719-729. doi: 10.1016/j.futures.2012.04.002. Also see Clarke, Beverley, Laura Stocker, Brian Coffey, Peat Leith, Nick Harvey, Claudia Baldwin, Tom Baxter, Gonni Bruekers, Chiara Danese Galano, Meg Good, Marcus Haward, Carolyn Hofmeester, Debora Martins De Freitas, Taryn Mumford, Melissa Nursey-Bray, Lorne Kriwoken, Jenny Shaw, Janette Shaw, Tim Smith, Dana Thomsen, David Wood, and Toni Cannard. 2013. “Enhancing the Knowledge–Governance Interface: Coasts, Climate and Collaboration.” Ocean & Coastal Management 86 (0):88-99. doi: 10.1016/j.ocecoaman.2013.02.009. 46 Relph, E., 2001. “Sense of Place.” In Ten Geographic Ideas that Changed the World, edited by S. Hanson, 205-226. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Also see Relph, E. 2008. “A Pragmatic Sense of Place.” In Making Sense of Place, edited by Vanclay, F. Higgins, M. & Blackshaw, A., 311-323. Canberra: National Museum of Australia Press.
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47 Powell, K. 2010. “Making Sense of Place: Mapping as a Multisensory Research Method.” Qualitative Inquiry 16 (7): 539. 48 Giddens, Anthony. 1991. Modernity and Self-Identity: Self and Society in the Late Modern Age. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 53. 49 Spickett, J., Brown, H. & Katscherian, D. 2008. Health Impacts of Climate Change: Adaptation Strategies for Western Australia. Environmental Health Directorate. WA Department of Health. Also see Curtis, S. E., and K. J. Oven. 2012. “Geographies of Health and Climate Change.” Progress in Human Geography 36 (5): 654-666. doi: 10.1177/0309132511423350. Also see EveryPalmer, Susanna, Sam McBride, Helen Berry, and David B Menkes. 2016. “Climate Change and Psychiatry.” Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 50 (1): 16-18. doi: 10.1177/0004867415615946. 50 Lucas, Chloe, Peat Leith, and Aidan Davison. 2015. How Climate Change Research Undermines Trust in Everyday Life: A Review. Hoboken, USA. 51 Ibid. 52 Devall, B., and G. Sessions. 1985. Deep Ecology: Living as if Nature Mattered. Salt Lake City: Peregrine Smith Books, 11-21. Also see Kortenkamp, Katherine V., and Colleen F. Moore. 2001. “Ecocentrism and Anthropocentrism: Moral Reasoning About Ecological Commons Dilemmas.” Journal of Environmental Psychology 21 (3): 261-272. doi: 10.1006/jevp.2001.0205.
CHAPTER EIGHT APPLYING A SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT MODEL TO INFORMAL SETTLEMENTS IN ADDIS ABABA ZAFU TEFERI, PETER NEWMAN AND ANNIE MATAN
The Indian Ocean region is facing unprecedented urbanisation. According to the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs' Population Division,1 cities in Asia are predicted to be home to more than 54 percent of the world’s urban dwellers by 2050. The cities in Africa, whilst predicted to accommodate less than 25 percent of the world’s urban dwellers by 2050, are growing rapidly. Informal housing is a feature of the cities in developing countries around the Indian Ocean Rim, and for many people these informal settlements are the first step towards a new life. By 2030 it is estimated that about two billion people will live in slums, primarily in Africa and Asia.2 These urban areas have many physical problems, particularly the lack of adequate housing, sanitation and access to clean water. They are often, however, still preferred to living in rural areas due to the opportunities provided in the city. In these rapidly growing urban settlements, whole communities can develop, evolving their own economies, community life and social capital.3 How to upgrade the physical environments of these informal settlements without damaging the existing economic, social and community life of these places is an ongoing policy debate.4 This chapter examines the utilization of sustainable technologies or frameworks focused on increasing the liveability of informal settlements in an urban slum in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The chapter tries to resolve the ongoing issue of how to manage the physical, economic and social development needs of these areas using a sustainable development framework. The chapter first provides the context of the slum in Addis
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Ababa then discusses a sustainability framework developed from Newman and Kenworthy’s Extended Metabolism Model alongside the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals.5 Then, application of the Extended Metabolism Model to a slum development in Indonesia is described and reflected on in the development of a sustainability model that enables analysis of these sites along with an integrated approach to policy-making. It is then argued that this model could be applied to other similar sites throughout the Indian Ocean Region.
Background to Slums in Ethiopia Slums are becoming an inevitable phenomenon of urban fabric in the developing world. An estimated five billion of the world’s 8.1 billion people will live in cities by 2030.6 Though it is an undeniable fact that urbanisation is an integral part of development processes and brings in opportunities and new potentials, there are acute and complex problems facing residents in informal settlements.7 Slums are mainly characterised by a lack of access to safe water and sanitation, poor quality housing, overcrowded living environments and insecure tenure status.8 Increasing urban poverty and income inequality, rapid rural to urban migration and lack of affordable housing contribute to the creation and proliferation of slums.9 Accommodating 30 percent of the urban population of Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia and the diplomatic centre of Africa, is one of the fastest growing cities on the continent. Like many cities in the developing world, Addis Ababa has experienced a rapid rate of urban growth in recent times. The population of the city increased from 0.44 million to 2.93 million between 1961 and 2010. The growth rate of Addis Ababa is expected to continue at a rate of 2.1 percent during 2011-2025 with the total population of the city expected to increase to four million in 2025. About two-thirds of the city residents are living in slums, with an approximate 28 percent of residents in Addis Ababa engaged in life below the minimum threshold (poverty line) in terms of both calorie intake and cost of basic needs in relation to their housing situation. While Addis Ababa offers many opportunities for residents to benefit from education, health and social services to improve their health and quality of life, its urban slums are creating economic, social and environmental problems that must be addressed. The fast rate of urbanisation without corresponding expansion in basic services creates pressure that is manifested in poverty and unemployment. The social consequence of such rapid growth has been alarming. In one of
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Addis Ababa’s oldest slums, Addis-Ketema, approximately 270,000 people share just over seven square kilometres. Here, 28 percent of people live below the poverty line, 45 percent of residents have no access to public health care, 53 percent have “informal” employment, 80 percent live in a single room house and there is a severe lack of access to water and sanitation.10 The majority of housing is fifty years old and in bad condition despite being government-owned; people still find themselves in poor living conditions, forced to make-do with what resources are locally available to tend to repairs. Similarly, while 80 percent of residents have access to electricity, it is unreliable, inadequate and often comes from local “power-brokers” who charge a higher fee than the government. While there are many pressing issues facing the population of AddisKetema, it is important to note that it is a place of great human energy and community spirit and home to many hard-working and inventive residents.11 In Ethiopia, the impact of inadequate sanitation and poor hygienic conditions are the biggest cause of deaths in children under five, due to related disease (such as malnutrition, diarrhoea, endemic cholera and respiratory infections).12 Practical actions to improve the standard of living in informal settlements are clearly needed. Cities across the world are increasingly attempting to improve conditions in urban slums and some have implemented adaptive and proactive approaches to this complex issue.13 Government efforts in Addis Ababa have focussed on urban renewal – which involves total demolition and rebuilding of houses – as well as eco-city planning from the principles of living with the environment and upgrading physical, social, economic and environmental aspects of the city. However, these approaches have achieved little. This chapter will outline an alternate approach being currently undertaken to determine how to upgrade the slums of Addis Ababa, utilising the Extended Metabolism Model to analyse the area and then integrate the approach to policy-making.
Sustainable Development Model Sustainable development is an approach created through global negotiation to enable development that facilitates economic productivity and wealth, ensures social equity and social capital is maintained or improved while reducing environmental footprints.14 The next global step in this journey will be the application of the United Nations’ post-2015 goals, known as the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).15 These goals are listed in Table 8.1.
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Sustainable Development Goals Goal 1 No Poverty: End poverty in all its forms. Goal 2 Zero Hunger: End hunger, achieve food security and improved nutrition and promote sustainable agriculture. Goal 3 Good Health and Well-Being: Ensure healthy lives and promote wellbeing for all. Goal 4 Quality Education: Ensure inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all. Goal 5 Gender Equality: Achieve gender equality and empower all women and girls. Goal 6 Clean Water and Sanitation: Ensure availability and sustainable management of water and sanitation for all. Goal 7 Affordable and Clean Energy: Ensure access to affordable, reliable, sustainable and modern energy for all. Goal 8 Decent Work and Economic Growth: Promote sustained, inclusive and sustainable economic growth, full and productive employment and decent work for all. Goal 9 Industry, Innovation and Infrastructure: Build resilient infrastructure, promote inclusive and sustainable industrialization and foster innovation. Goal 10 Reduced Inequalities: Reduce inequality within and among countries. Goal 11 Sustainable Cities and Communities: Make cities and human settlements inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable. Goal 12 Responsible Consumption and Production: Ensure sustainable consumption and production patterns. Goal 13 Climate Action: Take urgent action to combat climate change and its impacts. Goal 14 Life Below Water: Conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas and marine resources for sustainable development. Goal 15 Life on Land: Protect, restore and promote sustainable use of terrestrial ecosystems, sustainably manage forests, combat desertification, halt and reverse land degradation and halt biodiversity loss. Goal 16 Peace, Justice and Strong Institutions: Promote peaceful and inclusive societies for sustainable development, provide access to justice for all and build effective, accountable and inclusive institutions at all levels. Goals 17 Partnerships for the Goals: Strengthen the means of implementation and revitalise the global partnership for sustainable development.
Table 8.1. Sustainable Development Goals. A research project being undertaken at the Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute is investigating how a Sustainable Development Goals framework might enable the remediation of slum housing. All of the SDGs have some potential to be applied to this set of
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issues in Indian Ocean Region slums. This project explores case study data from present and improved slum settlements in Addis Ababa and the application of the SDGs to slum housing, looking at the economic, social and environmental aspects of slums and assessing how they can be integrated into a set of policies. The broad range of the SDGs can enable a more holistic approach in policy formation if looked at from a universal, integrated outlook. The goals can inspire policy-makers to make better, more inclusive and creative planning decisions by providing a holistic, internationally recognised platform. Creating better policies for management of slums and better planning to avoid the formation of slum conditions is touched on in most of the SDGs, for example, aside from the cities specific goal (goal 11), goals 1 and 3 relate to ending poverty and creating healthy lives for all. This, in extension, is integral to reducing inequality (goal 10) and to improving sanitation and access to water for all (goal 6). In addition, building strong policy foundations and recommendations help promote strong institutions along with a peaceful, inclusive and sustainable society (goal 16). These all relate to policy-making and slum upgrading decisions. Slums are associated with poverty, poor living conditions and a lack of basic services. In both social and economic terms slums are underperforming and are representations of the world’s inequalities. The rapid pace of urbanisation, especially of unplanned, informal settlements, has a large environmental footprint and while people are attracted to the opportunities associated with the city, often the city offers little but struggle for slum dwellers. Previously, remediation attempts have often simply focused on engineering solutions such as upgrading the structure of houses or gentrification resulting in displacement of the population rather than actually remediating the living conditions of slums for their inhabitants.16 This research looks at the conditions in slums and by applying the SDGs in the policy framework it hopefully ensures sustainability is integrated into the fabric of the policy practice. The recommendations will be based on the results of two case studies of current and remediated slums in Addis Ababa and a review of the best global practices and lessons learned in slum improvement approaches. As a guide to evaluating the ability of the Sustainable Development Goals to provide an integrated framework model, the Extended Metabolism Model17 has been used. This model has been applied previously to integrate economic, social and environmental goals in slum upgrading in Indonesia.
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Extended Metabolism Model for Analysing Sustainable Development in Slums Newman and Kenworthy developed a model for assessing sustainable development in cities they called the Extended Metabolism Model.18 This model, set out in Figure 8.1, demonstrates how many of the SDGs can be integrated into an assessment of how effective different approaches are for upgrading slums. Its application to the slums of Addis Ababa will be outlined as a framework for the data collection necessary for effectively upgrading these settlements consistent with the SDGs. The model demonstrates how the metabolism of a city is related to the throughput of resources and their inevitable flow on into wastes as they are consumed and used to create liveability. The list of resources, wastes and liveability can be expanded and focussed into a series of indicators as suggested by Newman and Kenworthy.19 These are outlined in Figure 8.1.
Figure 8.1. Indonesian slum dwellers and the Extended Metabolism Model.20
This model was used as a framework in a study of slum dwellers living along the Ciliwung River in Jakarta by Alma Arief, who surveyed the
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residents of this area and compared them to residents of a nearby high-rise apartment block who had previously been slum dwellers but were moved out into a modern high rise complex.21 Arief asked whether the shifting of squatters was more sustainable in terms of their impact on the environment, their economic opportunities and their community health. The indicators surveyed by Arief along with the results of the study are set out in three tables (Tables 8.2, 8.3 and 8.4). Inputs 1.Water 2. Energy -Electricity -Kerosene -Charcoal -Gasoline -Diesel Total 3. Land 4. Building material 5. Food
Ciliwung riverbank squatters 248 litre/household/day
High rise apartments dwellers 188 litre/household/day
2.30 MJ/household/day 60.80 MJ/household/day 0.90 MJ/household/day 3.99 MJ/household/day 3.27 MJ/household/day 71.26 MJ/household/day 4.57 m2/person Bricks, wood and bamboo frame with tiles or tin roofs (very poor quality) Inadequate protection
1.20MJ/household/day 57.00 MJ/household/day 0.15 MJ/day 7.05 MJ/day 2.35 MJ/day 67.75 MJ/household/day 0.91 m2/person Bricks, ceramic floors tile roofs (good quality) More balanced but minimal intake
Table 8.2 Summary of resource inputs to the two settlements. Waste outputs 1.Solid waste
2. Liquid waste
3. Air waste (CO2 -Electricity - Kerosene -Charcoal -Gasoline -Diesel Total
Ciliwung riverbank squatters 2.16/kg/household/day (82 percent solid waste in to Ciliwung) 248 litre/household/day (directly in to Ciliwung)
High rise apartments dwellers 1.66 kg/household/day (100 percent solid waste collected) 188 litre/household/day
626 g CO2 4,487 g CO2 85 g CO2 284 g CO2 241 g CO2 5,723 g CO2
326 g CO2 4,206 g CO2 14 g CO2 502 g CO2 173 g CO2 5,221 g CO2
Table 8.3 Summary of waste outputs from the two settlements.
Applying a Sustainable Development Model to Informal Settlements Unit of Analysis 1. Health
2. Employment
3. Income (average)
4. Housing
5. Education
6. Community
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Ciliwung riverbank squatter - Environmental health situation very poor. - 42 were ill in three month period
High rise apartment - Environmental health situation relatively good. - 34 were ill in three month period
- 55 percent street traders - 19 percent employed in private business - 0 percent home industries - Mostly participate in informal economy
- 6 percent street traders - 40 percent employed in private business - 2 percent freelance workers - Mostly participate in informal economy
- Rp 151,000 - Poor quality - 82 percent want to move to a different, better quality house
- Rp 252, 000 - Relatively good quality - Assumed do not want to move to a different house
- 94 percent primary school and below - High level of community - 92 percent knew > 20 percent by first name - 90 percent happy to live there - 100 percent trust neighbours - 100 percent felt secure - 100 percent borrow tools - 100 percent borrow money from neighbours
- 44 percent primary school and below - Low level of community - 44 percent knew >20 percent by first name - 76 percent happy to live there - 52 percent trust neighbours - 4 percent felt secure - 70 percent borrow tools - 22 percent borrow money from neighbours
Table 8.4. Liveability of Ciliwung Riverbank Squatter Settlement and high-rise apartment settlement.
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In this study, Arief found that the apartment dwellers used a little less energy and water than the slum dwellers and that their waste management was considerably better, particularly since the slum dwellers put all waste directly into the river.22 In human terms, the apartment dwellers had improved incomes and employment (they were better able to enter the formal economy) and had similar levels of accessibility and health compared to those that lived in the slum; but in terms of community parameters, the slum development was far superior because the layout of housing encouraged people to know and trust their neighbours. Over 80 percent of people were able to trust their neighbours and lend them things while this was less than 20 percent in the high rise development. The lack of community orientation in the high-rise design questions the fundamentals of its development ethos. Arief points to alternatives like the Kampung Improvement Scheme that is a more organic way of rebuilding slums using the community structure in the area.23 It is possible to see from these results how at least seven goals of the SDG are integrated into this assessment study in Indonesian slums and although most were positive, the community-based goals are not being achieved.
Application of the Extended Metabolism Model to Slums of Addis Ababa Using the Extended Metabolism Model for the study of the slum in Addis Ababa, the service facilities will be evaluated in terms of: dwelling place, source of drinking water, sewerage system, electrification, latrine facilities, drainage system, garbage disposal and access to health facilities. Findings from this analysis will enable the development of a policy framework to improve slum settlements in developing countries. Table 8.5 provides the set of parameters and questions that were developed as a basis for data collection.
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Questions that were developed as basis of data collection What rights do you have over the land? Did you do any improvement to whatever was on the land when you settled here? How often does the dwelling unit get maintained since your occupancy? If the City Authority wants to renew your neighbourhood, and relocation becomes necessary, would you be willing to relocate? Do you feel satisfied in this settlement? Do you want to move to another settlement? How do you classify the condition of a house you had in old neighbourhood/places? If the government offered you to move to another settlement (like the settlement at Senga Tera), will you accept this offer? Since you settled in this village, what changes have happened to your quality of life?
Table 8.5. Questions that were developed as basis for data collection.
Findings of Sustainability of Addis Ababa Slums The focus of the research is to provide policy recommendations for better practice and outcomes in remediating and preventing slums. Rather than focusing on a single solution such as simply upgrading house structure and displacing the families that may no longer be able to afford to stay, the research aims to develop a holistic policy framework that works for sustainable transformation of slums into liveable, healthy urban areas. People-centred urban development is at the core of the research, and it is not difficult to see that this means that displacement is not a viable and sustainable solution, as it was not in Indonesia despite improvements to the physical environment. The residents in the slum studied in Addis Ababa appear unwilling to move away from their tight knit community as it is a very old slum (Figure 8.2). Solutions and policies must aim towards transforming slums by taking into consideration not just the physical environment but life quality, health, access to water and sanitation along with opportunities for income-generation, and most of all community.24
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Figure 8.2. Older slum settlement of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.25
Table 8.6 outlines the findings from field research looking at the Arat Kilo slum settlement and the Ginfle high rise condominium development in Addis Ababa. Primary data was collected from the residents of Arat Kilo slum settlement and Ginfle condominium apartments which housed residents relocated from Arat Kilo slums. Questionnaires were administered to these inhabitants to understand their perspectives and perceptions regarding the condition of the settlements based on the basic principles of SDG’s. In addition, personal observations were recorded assessing the environmental condition of the settlements.
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Parameters
Resource Consumption and Environmental Footprint
Liveability Economic
Liveability Housing
Liveability Education
Arat Kilo slum settlement - 60 percent solid waste collected - 210 litre liquid waste/household/day (65 percent release waste water directly to river) - 22 percent use fuel wood - 30 percent use kerosene - 37 percent use electricity - Environmental health very poor
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Ginfle high rise condominium - 90 percent solid waste collected - 175 litre liquid waste /household/day - 3 percent use fuel wood - 10 percent use kerosene - 80 percent use electricity - Environmental health relatively good
- 30 percent employed in private, government, and NGOs - 30 percent self-employed (informal activities) - 29 percent unemployed - 3 percent pensioners - Average income Br10,560
- 45 percent employed in private, government and NGOs - 43 percent self-employed (informal activities) - 7 percent unemployed - 5 percent pensioners - Average income Br17,600
- Constructed from wood and mud - Cooking and sleeping take place in the same room - 70 percent owned by government - No bathroom - Pit latrines and communal electricity meters - 43 percent wish to live there with minor improvement - 30 percent need everything unchanged
- Houses are constructed from concrete blocks - Bed and kitchen rooms are separately available - 100 percent privately owned - Privately owned bathroom and electricity meters
- 67 percent primary school and below
- 30 percent primary school and below
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Chapter Eight - High level of community - 80 percent happy to live there - 95 percent felt secure - 93 percent enjoyed access to at least one informal borrowing or lending network - 97 percent trust their neighbours
- Low level of community - 50 percent happy to live there - 60 percent have social tie with the previous communities - 7 percent felt secure - 42 percent enjoyed access to at least one informal borrowing or lending network - 34 percent trust their neighbours
Table 8.6. Sustainability of Arat Kilo Slum Settlement and Ginfle High Rise Condominium.26 In Arat Kilo only 60 percent of the solid waste was collected while the remaining 40 percent was dumped into the streets, river, and open space. Whereas in the condominium apartments, 90 percent of the solid waste was collected. Neither settlement had a practice of reuse, recycling or composting of wastes. In the slum settlement of Arat Kilo, 65 percent of liquid waste is released directly into the drainage lines and into the river. The environmental surroundings of the Ginfle condominium were healthier than the environmental surroundings of the Arat Kilo slums. Therefore, a rise in the health status of the condominium residents could be expected. Diseases like tuberculosis, typhoid and diarrhoea, which are most of the time the result of either poor sanitation, poor living conditions or both, dictate the list of major health issues in the study area. These diseases account for more than three quarters of the incidences of disease in the slum settlement. The field research also reveals that the average income of the residents in the high rise apartments (Br17,600) was higher than that of the slum settlements (Br10,560). Even though the residents of the high rise apartments have almost twice the income of the slum settlements, most of high rise residents’ income was spent on paying for their mortgages. In the Arat Kilo slum settlement, homes were small and did not protect residents from the weather conditions. The condominium apartment residents had relief from this threat because the new houses could keep out cold temperatures, wind, rain and heat. Regarding the toilet, the condominium apartments were equipped with safe toilet facilities whereas
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the slums had pit latrines. All of the condominium residents had tap water in their house or within a ten minute round-trip by foot. In the Arat Kilo slum, 60 percent of the households had tap water in their houses or were within walking distance from it. The remaining 33 percent of households had to travel further and queue up for long periods, while 7 percent of them fetched drinking water from rivers. While 93 percent of the slum residents enjoyed access to at least one informal borrowing or lending network, only 40 percent of the condominium residents reported the same. More inhabitants of Arat Kilo than Genfle had met someone at a public place or coffee shop over the earlier month, received visitors at home, or paid a visit to someone else’s home. Clearly, residents of the slum depend on family, neighbours and friends, interacting in enclaves of similar residents and enjoying a strong community life. Residents of the Genfle settlement are less aware of close neighbourly ties. This is such a strong emotion that despite the quality of their homes, they feel highly attached to their old areas of community life. People in the slums do not want to be relocated from their original place of residence regardless of their location in the future, though they do not want a better house. About 60 percent of the condominium residents have social ties with previous communities in the slum. Generally, relocating people from slum areas is essential in providing better housing quality and a clean, healthy living environment where people are less prone to diseases resulting from poor sanitation. However, it has also been found that a large number of the studied communities have been directly affected by the loss of traditional institutional and social networks. Due to a loss of social cohesion, the condominium residents are more vulnerable to personal and economic shocks than the slum inhabitants.
Liveability and Resource Efficiency There is global concern about improving liveability whilst reducing resource use. Liveability is about access to essential services, such as health, clean water and sanitation, but it is also about a sense of community and belonging. The utilisation of the sustainability framework presented above, developed from Newman and Kenworthy’s Extended Metabolism Model, has enabled the analysis and decision making around slum upgrades to go beyond purely physical development to include economic and social concerns.27 The two examples presented, one in Indonesia and one in Ethiopia, illustrate how this framework can be used and how the SDGs could provide a guide for decision making. The
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utilisation of the Extended Metabolism Model helps facilitate the integration of these goals. The results from Ethiopia mirror the results from Indonesia. A healthier and more formal settlement is clearly better on all the environmental and footprint factors and creates a more liveable place from the perspective of housing and economic development. However, the social aspects of new developments do not induce the same quality of trust and depth of social networking found in the traditional slum settlements. Even though the condominium high rise settlement is more liveable than the Arat Kilo slum settlement on the vast majority of parameters, the sense of community evident in the slum settlement is seen by residents as imperative for happiness and social cohesiveness. The approach outlined would enable integrated policy-making for slum upgrades which focus on quality of life, which can be applied to other areas with similar issues. In particular it suggests that much greater attention needs to be given to rehabilitating houses in situ, or to developing household designs that reflect the organic interactions of community life.
Notes 1
United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division. 2015. World Population Prospects: The 2015 Revision. New York: United Nations. 2 Evas, E. 2013. “Two Billion Slum Dwellers.” Forbes. Accessed on September 26, 2013. http://www.forbes.com/2007/06/11/third-world-slums-biz-cx_21cities_ee_ 011slums.html. 3 Carpenter J.P., A.G. Daniere, and L. M. Takahashi. 2004. “Cooperation, Trust, and Social Capital in Southeast Asian Urban Slums.” Journal of Economic Behavior and Organization 55 (4): 533–551. 4 Woolcock, M. 1998. “Social Capital and Economic Development: Toward a Theoretical Synthesis and Policy Framework.” Theory and Society 27: 151-208. 5 Newman P., and J. Kenworthy. 1999. Sustainability and Cities. Washington: Island Press. 6 Majale, M. 2002. Towards Pro-Poor Regulatory Guidelines for Urban Upgrading: Regulatory Guidelines for Urban Upgrading. May 17-18. BourtonOn-Dunsmore. 7 Hadush, E. 2011. Factors Influencing Affected Group Participation in Urban Redevelopment in Addis Ababa: The Case of Senga Tera-Fird Bet I Project. Rotterdam: The Netherlands. 8 UN Habitat. 2003. The Challenge of Slums; Global Report on Human Settlements 2003, United Nations Human Settlements Programme, 2003. London: Earth Scan Publication Ltd.
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Ibid. Teferi, Z., and P. Newman. 2014. “Older Slums in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia: How do they work?” Sixth International Conference on Responsive Urbanism in Informal Areas, UN Habitat and Cairo University. November 25-28. 514-525. 11 Ibid. 12 Ethiopia Ministry of Health. 2011. National Hygiene & Sanitation Strategic Action Plan for Rural, Peri-Urban & Informal Settlements in Ethiopia. Addis Ababa. Also see RiPPLE. 2009. Improving WASH Information for Better Service Delivery in Ethiopia: A Summary Working Paper under the Long-term Action Research Theme on Access to WASH services. Addis Ababa. 13 Coplák J and P. Rakšányi. 2003. Planning Sustainable Settlements. Bratislava: Slovak University of Technology. http://www.ecocity.szm.com/framework.html#overall. 14 Newman and Kenworthy, Sustainability and Cities. 15 United Nations. 2015. Resolution adopted by the General Assembly on 25 September 2015, 17th session. Agenda Items 15 and 116. Accessed January 5, http://www.un.org/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=A/RES/70/1&Lang=E. 16 Majale, Towards Pro-Poor Regulatory Guidelines for Urban Upgrading: Regulatory Guidelines for Urban Upgrading. 17 Newman and Kenworthy, Sustainability and Cities. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Ibid. 21 Arief, A. 1998. “A Sustainability Assessment of Squatter Redevelopment in Jakarta.” Master’s Thesis, Murdoch University. 22 Ibid. 23 Silas, J. 1993. Surabaya 1293-1993: A City of Partnership. Municipal Government of Surabaya. 24 See Results in Teferi and Newman, 2014. 25 Authors’s field survey. 2015. 26 Author’s field survey. 2015. 27 Newman and Kenworthy, Sustainability and Cities. 10
CHAPTER NINE SUSTAINABILITY ACCOUNTING FOR NATURAL RESOURCE MANAGEMENT IN BANGLADESH MAHMOOD HASAN KHAN, AMZAD HOSSAIN AND DORA MARINOVA1
Accounting is considered a contemporary academic discipline with two main branches: managerial accounting, which allows those who direct an organisation to assess its economic performance; and financial accounting, which aims to provide information for stakeholders and other interested bodies as to how the organisation functions in terms of its commercial transactions.2 This kind of accounting reports on a particular aspect of human activity, mainly from a financial, business or economic perspective. More recently, efforts have been made to broaden this reporting to include activities that relate to the social and ecological environments where businesses operate. This has given rise to concepts such as corporate social responsibility and sustainability accounting as new ways of disclosing non-financial information about the ecological, social and economic performance of an organization.3 Ultimately, irrespective of what economic indicators say, people and nature have physical characteristics about which we want to be informed and which need to be maintained for supporting life on Earth. This new type of activity assessment is also referred to as green or environmental accounting,4 and its intention is to capture any ecological and social externalities of human activity.5 Unless the purpose of the business is specifically to restore ecological or community health, these externalities are usually negative. Thus sustainability reporting is in essence a way of informing the rest of society as to how responsible human actions are in relation not only to economic wellbeing but also towards the environment and society as a whole. Perhaps the most commonly used representation of sustainable development, and hence sustainability reporting, is a Venn diagram (Figure 9.1) showing the three overlapping circles of economic, social and
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environmental priorities where the intersection represents sustainability.6 This diagram conveys some of the complexities involved in pursuing a balanced development and creating awareness about “current, and potentially future, economic disparities, environmental degradation, and social ailments.”7 Nevertheless, it does not provide an indication as to what the underlying ethical values behind human activities are. Leading institutional values often claimed in the corporate world are rarely at the core of its business activities and are “added” to gain competitive advantage.8 A recent analysis of the local tradition, knowledge and wisdom of spiritual leaders in Bangladesh revealed a new perspective for understanding the synergies between economic, environmental and social performance as they relate to three principles of sustainability reporting: namely modesty, kindness and resilience (Figure 9.2).9 These correspond to the three sustainability (economic, environmental and social) aspects which are transformed into modesty in consumption, kindness towards the nonhuman world and resilience to cope and withstand unforeseen changes, shocks and calamities. This chapter explores further how these three principles apply to natural resource management in Bangladesh, one of the most densely populated countries in the world.
Economic aspects
Partial integration
Environment aspects
FULL INTEGRATION Partial integration
Partial integration
Social aspects
Figure 9.1. Representation of sustainability using a Venn diagram.
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Modesty (Economic development)
Kindness (Environmental protection and improvement) SUSTAINABILITY
Just
Possible
Enduring
Resilience (Social development)
Figure 9.2. Representation of sustainability accounting principles.
The majority of the Bangladeshi population (estimated at 71 percent),10 lives in 86,500 villages and many people are considered to be poor by western standards (estimated at 43 percent).11 The livelihoods of most rural people rely on the numerous natural resources of Bangladesh – from fertile soils and myriad waterways to lush vegetation. They live largely on agriculture, fishing and craftsmanship related activities. Forty years ago Maloney12 described village Bangladesh as the nest of nature: Once off the main roads and on the winding mud paths, one would soon begin to pass homestead after homestead, surrounded by clusters of various fruit and timber trees including bamboo plants, and inter-sparsed almost randomly among stretches of crop (largely rice crop) fields. One would also see men caring for their lands/crops, and women caring for household affairs, homestead gardening and harvest management. There would be no end to the scene of homesteads, ponds and ditches, rivers and canals, rice fields, and people.
Little has changed since and the country’s villages continue to provide livelihood to the millions of rural people. Bangladesh’s overall literacy rate is 58 percent and the majority of rural people are formally uneducated.13 Nevertheless, the practice of oral education for sustainability accounting remains an ongoing dynamic tradition for addressing the diverse challenges related to agricultural productivity, poverty management and ecological stability.
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Rural people have a close relationship with and dependence on natural resources for their livelihoods, which requires them to have skills and practices to look after those resources in a careful manner. Martinez-Alier describes this as environmentalism of livelihood triggered by the need to manage natural resources in a sustainable way to preserve their existence.14 Sustainable natural resource management is described as strong sustainability15 because it is based on the understanding that there are certain functions that the environment performs, such as providing food, water or aesthetic pleasure, which cannot be replaced through other means.16 In this sense, rural Bangladesh needs to embrace strong sustainability as its population depends on the environment. We argue that sustainable natural resource management and use of natural resources for consumption purposes should be integrally linked through sustainability accounting and its underlying value principles. By using examples from folk tradition, we convey how the principles of kindness, modesty and resilience are being communicated and displayed in Bangladesh where accounting for sustainability is essential for survival, endurance and joy of life. We use participant observation17 as well as analysis of talk and texts18 to collect the data for this study. The first two authors of the chapter have direct experiences over the last five years in participating in the natural settings and activities in village Bangladesh as well as observing and collecting evidence about the work of the Baul philosophers and their impact on the lifestyle and livelihoods in rural Bangladesh.
Kindness In our modern lives, kindness generally refers to “enacting kind behaviour towards other people” and is rarely seen as being kind to other non-human beings or the natural world which the principle of sustainability accounting requires people to do.19 As a human value (shared between the living faiths), kindness is expressed by the motivation to be kind and the ability to recognise the kind deeds of others and, as a virtue, is manifested by the actual enacting of kind actions. Bangladesh is an example of a topographically and culturally rich country where kindness to others, including the natural world, is at the core of the spirituality of many of its people. Topographically, Bangladesh is largely a country of plain land. The floodplain areas are comprised of river floodplains (55 percent) and coastal floodplains (25 percent). The country also has terraces (8 percent) which include the Barind, and tracts (12 percent) such as the Hill Tracts.20
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Bangladesh is criss-crossed by a network of several major rivers, their numerous tributaries and canals forming a lace of interconnecting channels. There are 230 rivers including numerous tributaries totalling 38,600 km in length. Rivers throughout the country are prone to flooding caused by the Himalayan ice melt and heavy monsoonal rains resulting in erosion, alluvium and silt deposition within the floodplain area. People see this as nature helping them towards a healthy crop and soil management. For rural people, this is nature’s sustainability accounting for its own resource management. Nature re-creates and embodies the landscape of Bangladesh, as a tapestry of green renewables.21 According to Aziz and Maloney, there is probably no other society in the world in which such a large population can subsist on land of these dimensions and still sustain its natural resource base.22 However, not many natural resources are unaffected by human activities, with the possible exception of sunshine. Most resources can be depleted and lose their natural regenerative capacity because of excessive extraction and consumption. The Club of Rome was first to raise the alarm about the expanding human population and the limits of the planet.23 This was followed by many other studies24 and the creation of indicators to monitor the state of natural resources such as fresh air, forests, grasslands and marine resources.25 This data continues to raise concerns about our ability to safeguard the foundations of human life. It is now widely accepted that human activities have generated excessive greenhouse gas emissions, impacting the planet’s climate; that industrialisation has caused pollution of air, land and water with environmentally unfriendly chemicals; that biodiversity has been severely affected.26 We are reaching and exceeding the planet’s limits in all essential indicators such as biodiversity, nitrogen cycle, climate change.27 Technological solutions are continuingly failing to address the created problems and even when innovation proves to provide a more sustainable way in developed economies, technology transfer to the Third World is consistently unsuccessful.28 According to Bendul et al., “empirical findings suggest that donor organisations often entail hidden agendas while the corruption, multiple layers of influence and decision-making mark local agencies with diverging objectives within.”29 Consequently, technological solutions more often than not are unavailable to the poor.30 Technology experts time and again observe that wisdom, not machines, helps the world move forward.31 Bangladesh is a disaster-prone country where floods and cyclones are a regular occurrence.32 Over the centuries people in Bengal have also changed their environments through destroying forest, extending agriculture, altering
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river courses and over-fishing many areas. It has always been a story of survival and adaptation with people living in “vulnerable areas either because they are confident that they can face the inevitable consequences, or in the knowledge that eventually they may be driven out by natural forces.”33 Their traditional and intrinsic response has been to face the natural calamities with indigenous wisdom.34 This traditional wisdom has long advised the Bangladeshi people to accept the annual processes of inundation and erosion but also to care about the natural environment in order to continue to rely on it. A major role in guiding people in their behaviour in the rural villages of the country is played by the Baul mystics. These mystic minstrels are recognised by UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage of humanity.35 The Bauls come from Hindu, Muslim, Christian and Buddhist backgrounds.36 Without identifying with any formal religion or caste system, they play a very important role in Bangladesh, which is a predominantly Muslim society. Through their songs and oral teachings they provide syncretic views derived from Sufism and Vasinavism. Although in urban environments their importance has somehow paled in the 20th century because of strong western influences, they are still very popular and revered by the rural populace. With the spread of telecommunications and social media in this century, the Bauls’ influence is now stronger, penetrating both the urban and rural fabric of Bangladeshi society. This is manifested through their participation in many TV shows and live performances, as well as the increasingly popular pilgrimage tourism to temples, shrines and sacred places of worship. People are exposed to the Bauls’ teaching, philosophical messages and spiritual values. Their songs are continuously modernised giving them contemporary relevance.37 For example, Baul Bijoy Sarkar38 exclaims in one of his songs: “How beautifully the Creator has created the Earth providing things appropriate for their respective places!” In another he calls: “We are obliged to leave this beautiful earth, keeping the Earth as it is.” These songs articulate the obligation people have to preserve the planet’s natural resources for future generations – a concept very much aligned with the notion of strong sustainability calling for the environment to be physically and aesthetically unchanged. The Baul philosophers influence the practices of rural people – irrespective of their religion or cultural background – in relation to the management of water,39 biodiversity40 and many practices of Bengali culture.41 They also encourage sustainability accounting in rural Bangladesh as livelihood practices without violence towards nature so that its physical regenerating
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capacity is not negatively affected; as Baul Bijov Sarkar advocates: leave this beautiful earth beautiful.42 With Bangladesh being a highly densely populated country (1,222 people per square kilometre), sustainability accounting practices must also consider the ecological footprint so that less land area is used to produce the resources that people need to consume. According to the Global Footprint Network, Bangladesh’s ecological footprint was only 0.7 hectares per person compared to 1.8 for Asia, 2.65 for the world and 8.3 for Australia.43 Joshi describes this human obligation to keep the planet within its sustainability integrity as adopting development without destruction.44 Bangladesh is increasingly being known as the country of regular floods, droughts and river erosion, particularly as climate change brings more extreme weather events.45 Some outsiders might see only the negative consequences from these natural phenomena, while the Baul philosophers and the locals understand them as the renewal tools of nature which revitalise its resource base and nurture people’s spirituality.46 People observe that timely floods wash away dirt and germs, and that timely droughts energise the soils with nitrogen fixation. Although untimely floods and droughts can cause temporary inconveniences for the affected people, the more frequent ones bring benefits that outweigh the losses. There may be cases when some communities are affected beyond recovery. However, the rural people accept the fact that they may have to migrate to a new place or become landless.47 River erosion breaks riverbanks and shoals, but also makes new ones. This gives new vitality to the soil and renews the spirituality of the people of the shoals.48 Weather calamities obviously have negative effects by disrupting the normal course of events; though they are not for the sake of hardship but for managing the regenerative capacity of renewable resources.49 However, rather than kind, people can be destructive and utterly unsustainable towards nature. This was the case with the application of the technological systems of the Green Revolution in Bangladesh and the Indian subcontinent, including mechanical irrigation by extracting underground water, using chemical inputs for food production and processing, mono-cropping and genetically modified high yielding varieties of crops.50 These technological factors have caused unsustainability, accelerated poverty, widened the gap between rich and poor, degenerated cultural values and lead to water crises and soil fertility degradation. Kindness towards nature and its resources is needed to allow replenishment and healing. People should be aware that “[t]echnological progress can help as well as harm the natural environment” and
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sustainability accounting provides the framework to make this most important distinction.51 Sustainability accounting at the village level teaches that it is a human obligation to care for the regenerative aspects of natural resources while harvesting or disturbing them. The message about kindness to nature can be summarised by the popular saying attributed to Swami Vibekananda: “One who loves all creatures serves God.”52 The religious leaders (Ulama) transmit scriptural sermons orally to the audience at home ceremonies, mosque congregations and organised lectures at schools and other educational institutions. Baul gurus sing spontaneous songs about this before crowds of people. Storytellers reveal episodes to children. The Shamans prescribe locally available curatives (medicinal plants, herbs and substances) for fighting various diseases. It is a common perception that the greater the guru, the simpler the technique of teaching and reflecting. Jalil maintains that folk tales and traditional educational customs are more effective education about the villagers’ day-to-day life management than written instructions.53 It is almost impossible to manage problematic village poverty and environment effectively without the restoration of sustainability accounting related folk tales and other traditional customs. Local knowledge in Bangladesh has its own accounting standards which look after nature. A lot of destruction of the natural environment is done out of ignorance, particularly when people are disconnected from nature in urban environments54 or engaged in pursuing economic activities where markets, “efficiency and competition decide everything.”55 By comparison, rural people have always been directly exposed to the fragility of the natural world and its finite capacity to restore itself. This realisation that nature is vulnerable requires people to be kind to it as well as behave responsibly. Baul guru Darvish Aziz Shah Fakir56 in his discourse to devotees about the obligations to care for natural resources says that ten per cent of any crops including fruit on the trees must be left as Zakat,57 the Islamic term for “charity,” so that landless poor people and birds can eat them and broadcast the seeds elsewhere. According to him, the fingerlings and the mother fish must be spared; when a tree needs to be cut, few young trees must be planted as the demand for wood is rising with the increase of human population. The Fakir explains that as soil, water, air and biodiversity are rapidly being degraded due to human unethical intervention and exploitation, the ideology of Zakat must be widely taught and practised in order to regulate sustainability accounting for natural resource management.58
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How to use Zakat wisely extends to the entire Muslim community; pertinent rulings from the Hanafi School of Islam apply in Bangladesh. It is a sustainable way to use resources that applies particularly to the produce of crops and vegetation when grown for agricultural purposes. Zakat is not only a charitable act to assist the poor, but an act of kindness to both other human beings and nature.
Modesty Similar to kindness, modesty is a sphere of core-shared values that refers to freedom from conceit and vanity.59 Although in the West it is often perceived as a lack of capacities and social skills, and thus confidence in one’s potential for accomplishment, it has a completely different meaning in the area of sustainability accounting – that of a virtue. It encompasses all aspects of human spending and consumption habits, expressing the quality of being moderate and fair and resenting arrogance and achievements that boost consumerism. Gandhi’s philosophy synthesises modesty well: “The more I have, the less I am.”60 El Guindi notes that people should not be wasteful in spending their money, nor should they be miserable by hoarding their wealth.61 Modesty prevails when people walk on earth with humility. In our interlinked planet with limited resources, Skolimowski explains that immodest are the people who live in affluence and consume too much without considering others.62 Bangladesh is a country of secular spiritual Islam, which is an admixture of medieval Sufism with native Animism, Hinduism and Buddhism. According to Hossain, simplicity and a poverty-like, selfreliant lifestyle are pre-dominant and this observation is shared by the authors’ personal experience.63 This lifestyle encourages low consumption and respects all in nature including fellow human beings. Living simply is a major factor for retaining the country’s holistic sustainability account keeping, and this is evident in the practices of the rural populations. Gandhi’s philosophy of sustainable living is to “live simply so others can simply live,”64 because “Earth… provides enough to satisfy every man’s need but not for every man’s greed.”65 This philosophy is popular in Bangladesh. Traditional life in rural villages is simple with subsistence farmers living together with fishers, handicraft workers, carpenters, smiths, weavers and other craft-people using tools mostly made of local materials. The “pro-poor” oriented economic growth of the country in the last few decades has delivered better rural infrastructure, faster improving basic education and better primary and preventative health care in village areas.66 Nevertheless, the Bangladeshi rural people continue to depend on
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the land for food67 and on finite renewable ecological resources to meet other basic needs such as housing, clothing and working gear for pursuing agricultural or non-agricultural economic activities.68 Their homesteads prior to the emergence of the Green Revolution were neither cottages nor houses as the West knows them. Sleeping, living and cooking quarters and reception rooms were built under separate roofs.69 The houses were made of mud and bamboo matting, with roofing of local fibre.70 There were only a few tin-roofed houses belonging to villagers with money, and brick houses were very rare.71 Most homesteads had fruit trees, bamboos and useful non-fruiting timber trees.72 The large portion of homesteads were covered with forests, maintaining ecological sustainability. Although the idea that nature exists solely to serve human needs is an old one and extensively used through the colonial era, in more recent times the tradition of modesty started to suffer significantly since urbanisation and brick-based development commenced in the 1960s.73 Brick makers required wood fuel from the villages and many big timber and fruit trees were cleared.74 As most trees take a long time to grow and mature, people considered them a long-term ecological asset and did not immediately recognise the negative future impact of these practices. After the 1974 famine caused by flooding and the mismanagement of foodgrain stocks distribution, the situation changed with NGOs introducing micro-credit schemes that allowed the poor to build tin-roofed homes. To maintain their social status, the villagers with money started to build brick homes and toilets. Nevertheless, rural people continued to live a modest lifestyle with low to moderate consumption. An example of this is the low meat diet. With only 4.1 kilograms of meat per person per year, Bangladesh has one of the lowest consumption levels in the world;75 mainly thanks to rural areas as city dwellers are actively exposed to the global marketing of Western consumerism, including that of animal-based proteins.76 The Baul philosophers consider meat eating to be sinful, a moral violence and expression of greed.77 They utterly encourage others to avoid meat eating and have millions of followers. Rural people continue to be influenced and guided by the stock of traditional oral teaching material in the form of folklore, including proverbs.78 Many comprise sustainability accounting messages for modest living such as: eat less to live longer; to desire too much is damaging; a sustainable house needs a pond, bamboo and banana plants and open space in the south; share a neighbourhood with relatives and also with others. Harun Baul sang: “Simple living is the pathway to sustainable development.”79 Most of the discourses on sustainability accounting including moderate consumption, strong family ties, being happy with
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fewer possessions etc., come from a communitarian perspective in the search for accountability “to the Other,” including other species, future generations and the community looking after the public sphere.80 The Baul philosophers are a Bangladeshi expression of this communitarian approach.81 People follow their discourses which encourage them to live naturally and modestly. Orality continues to be an essential way of knowledge transmission and helps the rural people of Bangladesh to reconcile their simple livelihood impacts on the environment including natural resources. It is a social practice that touches them every day.
Resilience Resilience is the best way to adapt to environmental and social change including hazardous events characterised by surprise and unknown risk.82 Traditionally the rural people of Bangladesh are religiously nature abiding. In the past, they believed that nature itself was the best teacher for those who want to learn capacities for renewal, reorganisation, learning, adaptation and development.83 This is what made rural people strong and resilient to calamities. The technology of nature was the source for their sustainability. As nature’s technology is specific to the site, the season and the geography, it needs guidance by naturalist Gurus such as the Baul philosophers.84 However, the Green Revolution technologies led to a decline in the country’s natural resource base as well as traditional customs and cultural values.85 Initially it appeared to raise agricultural output but then it became clear that there were many negative consequences.86 Land productivity, yet with diminishing returns, depended on the ever-increasing use of chemical and mechanised inputs which gradually became unaffordable. Rivers silted up and became dry, many fish and other aquatic species vanished. There are hardly any grazing fields for cows, fewer fruit trees and fewer insect-eating birds. Crops and vegetables that are grown using chemical inputs are less nutritious and not tasty. The consequences of the shrinking of grazing lands and reduction in water areas forced many poor and marginal farmers to clear forests for crops and grazing. The Green Revolution destroyed subsistence agricultural practices and created dependence on foreign aid and technologies.87 Fishers had to flee elsewhere – to West Bengal in India, the coastal areas for sea fishing or to urban areas for alternative employment. The rest of the farmers and fishers became under-employed and poorer. The mechanised irrigation system supplanted labourers. Some of them started to clear forests to sell wood fuel in the cities. In response to this
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demand, the forest department, agricultural department and various NGOs in Bangladesh promoted the fast-growing Eucalypts and Shishu trees instead of native big trees. People planted those species widely but they are now considered to be injuriously inappropriate for the Bangladesh environment.88 International organisations began to pour aid into Bangladesh from 1972, after the war for independence in 1971, to help rebuild the warstricken economy and infrastructure. The country experienced a devastating famine in 1974.89 The aid work intensified with national and international NGOs disseminating aid commodities and Green Revolution technologies, including a micro-credit instrument for alleviating poverty.90 Since its independence, development in Bangladesh has brought huge economic, cultural and environmental changes in its rural areas. It has negatively impacted the traditional economic balance of self-reliance, cultural fulfilment, social morality, people’s happiness, and environmental aesthetics. Finally, Bangladesh became an aid-dependent country assuming the label “Bangladesh – The Test Case for Development” until the 1990s.91 The country’s natural resources, including ground and rainwater, biomass, cropland, water bodies, forest resources and rural labour force have significantly shrunk to meet all the needs of villages in Bangladesh.92 The resource base is insufficient, many have to migrate in search of work and livelihood. Ground water is over-exploited and often wasted.93 The poor of the country have been pushed increasingly to marginal and fragile areas of the environment, and they have lost traditional rights as the protectors and preservers of the forests, fields and water resources.94 Consequently, new types of poverty have emerged among the peasantry.95 They often have more children to counter the situation, contributing to the existing population explosion.96 Village social and cultural cohesion began to crumble: with the growth of large-scale industries in and around the big cities, migration from rural to urban areas started to create socio-political problems.97 This is also confirmed by the authors’ experience. Many traditional sustainability accounting practices were forgotten. People now need to ask their elders about what sustainable practices existed in the pre-1970 development eras. Under the guidance of their spiritual gurus, the rural people of Bangladesh are rediscovering their resilience by retreating back to the age-long tradition of natural resource management by way of sustainability accounting practices. They are now regaining traditional knowledge about nature management from this diverse oral tradition. Being a deltaic and floodplain country greatly enriched with renewable natural resources and cultural heritage, the tradition of sustainability
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accounting is of utmost significance for the resilience of the Bangladeshi people in order to maintain a harmonious and synergistic relationship with nature. The cultural underpinning for maintaining social sustainability induces the rural people to think about a type of economic progress for achieving self-reliance through self-employment. The Bauls stress that without sustainability accounting, the people of Bangladesh and of any country with growing consumption of finite renewable natural resources will suffer from insecurity, even in the midst of enough provisions. This is why Baul Fakir Lalon Shah (1774-1890) grieves: “Lalon suffers from thirst while the river Meghna is at hand.” Building resilience is important for achieving sustainability.
A different economy – with kindness, modesty and resilience While the practice of sustainability accounting is an age-long tradition in Bangladesh, it was only recently discovered as a way to provide information relating to social and environmental responsibilities. It appears that because of sustainability accounting practices, the rural people of Bangladesh have the capacity and ability to create a remarkably different economy, one that can restore ecosystems and protect the environment while bringing forth innovation, prosperity, meaningful work and true security. The country is yet to find ways to measure the extent to which local practices have transitioned to align better with sustainability accounting as well as the impact the Baul mystics have on this. Nevertheless, there is already strong evidence that village Bangladesh is being transformed by the Baul philosophy. Based on the value principles of kindness (using without destruction), modesty (consuming less to save for others) and resilience (being selfreliant and strong to overcome adversities), sustainability accounting for restorative development processes in Bangladesh can unite ecology and economic activities into one sustainable act of production and distribution that mimics and enhances natural processes. Our world is now an integrated global community within which traditional societies, such as rural Bangladesh and its Baul leaders who promote sustainable development, are a source of important wisdom in practising sustainability accounting for natural resource management.
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Notes 1
We want to thank the editors of the book and the two anonymous referees whose constructive comments helped improve the quality of the manuscript. 2 Garrison, Ray, Eric Noreen, and Peter Brewer. 2011. Managerial Accounting. 14th ed. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill/Irwin. Also see Hermanson, Roger, James Don Edwards, and Michael Maher. 2011. Accounting Principles: A Business Perspective. Volume 1: Financial Accounting. First global text ed. http://www.saylor.org/site/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/BUS103-TEXTBOOK.pdf 3 Tilt, Carol. 2009. “Corporate Responsibility, Accounting and Accountants.” In Professionals' Perspectives of Corporate Social Responsibility, edited by Samuel Idowu and Walter Leal Filho, 11-32. Berlin: Springer. 4 Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP). 1993. Energy, Environment and Sustainable Development. Energy Resources Development Series No. 34. New York: United Nations. Also see Rogers, Peter, Kazi Jalal, and John Boyd. 2008. An Introduction to Sustainable Development. London: Earthscan. 5 May, Steven, George Cheney, and Juliet Roper. 2007. The Debate over Corporate Social Responsibility. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. 6 Lozano, Rodrigo. 2008. “Envisioning Sustainability Three-Dimensionally.” Journal of Cleaner Production 16: 1838-1846. 7 Ibid, 1845. 8 Roth, Steffen. 2013. “Common Values? Fifty-two Cases of Value Semantics Copying on Corporate Websites.” Human Systems Management 32: 249–265. 9 Khan, Mahmood, Amzad Hossain, and Dora Marinova. 2015. “Traditional Sustainability Accounting Principles in Bangladesh.” World Journal of Social Sciences 5: 201-210. http://www.wjsspapers.com/static/documents/April/2015/17.%20Dora.pdf. 10 United Nations Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF). 2013. “Bangladesh: Statistics”. http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/bangladesh_bangladesh_statistics.html. 11 Ibid. 12 Maloney, Clarence. 1974. South Asia: Seven Community Profiles. London: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 82. 13 UNICEF. 2013. “Bangladesh: Statistics”. 14 Martinez-Alier, Joan. 2002. The Environmentalism of the Poor: A Study of Ecological Conflicts and Valuation. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. 15 Many distinguish between strong and weak sustainability. See Ekins, Paul, Sandrine Simon, Lisa Deutsch, Carl Folke, and Rudolf De Groot. 2003. “A Framework for the Practical Application of the Concepts of Critical Natural Capital and Strong Sustainability.” Ecological Economics 44: 165–185. Also see Neumayer, Eric. 2012. “Human Development and Sustainability.” Journal of Human Development and Capabilities 13 (4): 561-579. Also see Neumayer, Eric. 2013. Weak versus Strong Sustainability: Exploring the Limits of Two Opposing Paradigms. 4th ed. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar. Also see Dietz, Simon, and Eric Neumayer. 2007. “Weak and Strong Sustainability in the SEEA: Concepts
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and Measurement.” Ecological Economics 61: 617-626. Also see Brand, Fridolin. 2009. “Critical Natural Capital Revisited: Ecological Resilience and Sustainable Development.” Ecological Economics 68: 605-612. Also see Dedeurwaerdere, Tom. 2014. Sustainability Science for Strong Sustainability. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar. The concept of strong sustainability implies preservation of critical elements of the natural environment without loosing vital physical features described as natural capital. Under weak sustainability it is possible to substitute natural capital with other forms of capital, such as financial, social, manufactured or human built. What matters is the total aggregated value of capital in all of its forms that needs to be preserved or increased for the wellbeing of future generations 16 Daly, Herman. 1991. “Elements of Environmental Macroeconomics.” In Ecological Economics: The Science and Management of Sustainability, edited by Robert Costanza, 32-46. New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Also see Ekins, et. al. “A Framework for the Practical Application of the Concepts of Critical Natural Capital and Strong Sustainability”. 17 Kawulich, Barbara. 2005. “Participant Observation as a Data Collection Method.” Forum: Qualitative Social Research 6 (2): 43. http://www.qualitativeresearch.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/466/996. 18 Peräkylä, Anssi, and Johanna Ruusuvuori. 2011. “Analysing Talk and Text.” In The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research, edited by Norman Denzin, and Yvonna Lincoln, 4th ed., 529-544. Los Angeles: Sage. 19 Otake, Keiko, Satoshi Shimai, Junko Tanaka-Matsumi, Kanako Otsui, and Narnara Fredrickson. 2006. “Happy People Become Happier through Kindness: A Counting Kindnesses Intervention.” Journal of Happiness Studies 7: 362. 20 Brammer, Hugh. 1997. Agricultural Development Possibilities in Bangladesh. Dhaka: University Press Limited, 78. 21 Rashid, Haroun. 1991. Geography of Bangladesh. Dhaka: University Press Limited. 22 Aziz, Ashraful, and Clarence Maloney. 1988. Life Stages, Gender, and Fertility in Bangladesh. Dhaka: International Centre for Diarrhoeal Disease Research. 23 Meadows, Donella, Dennis Meadows, Jørgen Randers, and William Behrens III. 1972. The Limits to Growth. New York: Universe Books. Also see Meadows, Donella, Jørgen Randers, and Dennis Meadows. 2004. The Limits to Growth: The 30-year Update. White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing Company. 24 Ehrlich, Paul. 1989. “The Limits to Substitution: Meta-Resource Depletion and a New Economic-Ecological Paradigm.” Ecological Economics 1 (1): 9-16. Also see Daily Gretchen, and Paul Ehrlich. 1992. “Population, Sustainability, and Earth's Carrying Capacity: A Framework for Estimating Population Sizes and Lifestyles That Could Be Sustained without Undermining Future Generations.” Bioscience 42 (10): 761-771. Also see Daily Gretchen, Ehrlich Anne, and Paul Ehrlich. 1994. “Optimum Human Population Size.” Population and Environment 15: 469-475. Also see De Graaf, John, David Wann, and Thomas Naylor. 2002. Affluenza: The All-Consuming Epidemic. San Francisco: Berrett–Koehler Publishers. Also see Ehrlich Paul, and Anne Ehrlich. 2009. “The Population Bomb Revisited.” The Electronic Journal of Sustainable Development 1 (3): 73–97. .
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http://www.populationmedia.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/Population-BombRevisited-Paul-Ehrlich-20096.pdf. Also see Brown, Lester. 2011. World on the Edge: How to Prevent Environmental and Economic Collapse. New York: Norton. Also see Pearce, Fred. 2012. The Landgrabbers: The New Fight Over Who Owns the Earth. Boston: Beacon Press. 25 Global Footprint Network. 2015. “Footprint of Nations.” Global Footprint Network. http://www.footprintnetwork.org/en/index.php/GFN/page/footprint_for_nations/. Also see World Bank. 2015. “World Development Indicators: Environment.” World Bank. http://data.worldbank.org/topic/environment. 26 Millennium Ecosystem Assessment. 2005. Ecosystems and Human Well-being: Biodiversity Synthesis. Washington: World Resources Institute. http://www.unep.org/maweb/documents/document.354.aspx.pdf. Also see Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) 2014. “Climate Change 2014: Synthesis Report.” IPCC. http://www.ipcc.ch/report/ar5/syr/. 27 Pearce, Fred. 2010. “Earth's Nine Lives.” New Scientist 205 (2749): 30-35. 28 El Guindi, Fadwa. 1999. Veil: Modesty, Privacy and Resistance. Oxford, UK: Berg. Also see Huesemann, Michael. 2003. “The Limits of Technological Solutions to Sustainable Development.” Clean Technologies and Environmental Policy 5: 21-34. Also see Roosa, Stephen. 2010. Sustainable Development Handbook. 2nd ed. Lilburn, GA: The Fairmont Press. 29 Bendul, Julia, Eugenia Rosca, and Thomas Hoffmann. 2015. “Sustainable Technology Transfer for Poverty Alleviation: A Unified Framework for Challenges and Transdisciplinary Solution Approaches.” WIT Transactions on Ecology and The Environment 193: 832. doi:10.2495/SDP150691. 30 James, Jeffrey. 2002. Technology, Globalisation and Poverty. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar. Also see Davis, Susan. 2013. “Can Technology End Poverty?.” Harvard Business Review, March 23. https://hbr.org/2013/03/can-technology-endpoverty?goback=.gde_3209639_member_226221237. 31 Toyama, Kentaro. 2015. Geek Heresy: Rescuing Social Change from the Cult of Technology. New York: Public Affairs. 32 Freestone David, Mohiuddin Farooque, and Salma Jahan. 2012. “Legal Implications of Global Climate Change for Bangladesh.” In The Implications of Climate and Sea-level Change for Bangladesh, edited by Richard Warrick and Qazi Kholiquzzaman Ahmad, 289-334. Dordrecht, Germany: Kluwer Academic. 33 Ibid, 294. 34 Ibid. 35 United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). 2008. “Baul Songs.” UNESCO. http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/en/RL/baulsongs-00107. 36 The many mystics come from different religions and they lead people on a spiritual path – “Rabia and Rumi in Islam; Hildegard of Bingen, Teresa of Avila, Meister Eckhart, and Thomas Marton in Christianity; Mirabai and Ramakrishna in Hinduism; the Buddha and many of his followers, like Thich Nhat and the Dalai Lama today.” See King, Ursula. 2008. The Search for Spirituality: Our Global Quest for a Spiritual Life. New York: Blue Bridge, 27.
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UNESCO,“Baul Songs”. Baul Bijoy Sarkar (born in Dumdi village in Jessore District 1903, died 1985) was a Bangladeshi mystic poet, singer, lyricist and composer. 39 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2012. “Grassroots Cultural Policy for Water Management in Bangladesh.” Water Practice & Technology 7 (1). doi: 10.2166/wpt.2012.023. 40 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2009. “Biosystems Management: Muslim/Hindu Applications in Bangladesh.” Man in India 89 (4): 557-566. 41 Hossain, Amazad. 1991. “Religion of Songs: The Beliefs and Practices of the Bauls of Bangladesh.” Master’s thesis. Geelong: Deakin University. Also see UNESCO, “Baul Songs”. 42 Khan, Mahmood, Amzad Hossain, and Dora Marinova. 2015. “Traditional Sustainability Accounting Principles in Bangladesh.” World Journal of Social Sciences 5: 201-210. 43 Global Footprint Network, “Footprint of Nations”. 44 Joshi, Nandini 1993. Development Without Destruction: Economics of the Spinning Wheel. Ahmedabad, India: Navajiban Mudranalaya. 45 Hossain Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2011. “Climate Change Rhetoric in Bangladesh: A Curse or a Blessing?” Rajshahi University Journal of Environmental Science 1: 1-12. 46 Freestone David, Mohiuddin Farooque, and Salma Jahan. 2012. “Legal Implications of Global Climate Change for Bangladesh.” In The Implications of Climate and Sea-level Change for Bangladesh, edited by Richard Warrick and Qazi Kholiquzzaman Ahmad, 289-334. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic. 47 Ibid. 48 Hossain and Marinova, “Grassroots Cultural Policy for Water Management in Bangladesh.” 49 Fluehr-Lobban, Carolyn. 2004. Islamic Societies in Practice. Gainesville, FL: University of Florida Press. 50 Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab. New Delhi: Zed Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics. Lexington: Kentucky University Press. Also see Siddiqui, A., Amzad Hossain, and Dora Marinova. 2016. “Crisis amidst Abundance: Food Security in Bangladesh.” This volume. 51 Newton, Lisa. 2005. Business Ethics and the Natural Environment. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing, xiii. 52 “Jibe prem kore je jon, se jon shebise Ishwar,” http://helpfulhub.com/1894/jibeprem-kore-je-jon-se-jon-sobchce-ishwor-kar-kotha-eti 53 Jalil, Abdul. 1993. Loka Sahitter Nanan Dik (Diverse Aspects of Folk Literature). Dhaka: Bangla Academy. 54 Hill, Brennan. 1998. Christian Faith and the Environment: Making Vital Connections. London: Orbis Books. 55 Newton, Lisa. 2005. Business Ethics and the Natural Environment. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing, xii. 38
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56 Aziz Shah Fakir (believed to be 104 years old) lives in Charaikole village of Kushtia district in Bangladesh. He has hundreds of disciples all over Bangladesh who visit the guru regularly to receive his reflective teachings on doing good deeds, supporting good people, opposing and countering bad deeds and people, and spirituality, naturalism and longevity management. 57 Some also describe Zakat as a religious tax. See Mannan, Manzurul. 2015. BRAC, Global Policy Language, and Women in Bangladesh: Transformation and Manipulation. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 58 Hossain, Amzad, and Bryan Jenkins. 2002. “Sustainability Education and Practices: A Key to Sustainable Development in Rural Bangladesh.” In Bangladesh Environment 2002, Volume 2, edited by M. Feroze Ahmed, Saleh Tanveer, and Borhan Badruzzaman, 1090-1106. Dhaka: Bangladesh Poribesh Andolon (BAPA). 59 Merriam-Webster Dictionary. 2016. “Modesty.” www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/modesty. 60 Joshi, Nandini 1993. Development without Destruction: Economics of the Spinning Wheel. Ahmedabad, India: Navajiban Mudranalaya, 53. 61 El Guindi, Fadwa. 1999. Veil: Modesty, Privacy and Resistance. Oxford: Berg, 155. 62 Skolimowski, Henryk. 1993. A Sacred Place to Do Well: Living with Reverence upon the Earth. London: Element Book Ltd, 35. 63 Hossain, Amzad. 2001. “Renewing Self-Reliance for Rural Bangladesh through Renewable Energy Technology System.” PhD thesis. Perth: Murdoch University. 64 Cummings, Charles. 1991. Eco-spirituality: Toward a Reverent Life. New York: Paulist Press, 130. 65 Anand, Y. P., and Mark Lindley. N.d. Gandhi on Providence and Greed. Academia. https://www.academia.edu/303042/Gandhi_on_providence_and_greed. 66 Sen, Binayak, Mustafa Mujeri, Quazi Shahabuddin. 2007. “Explaining Pro-Poor Growth in Bangladesh: Puzzles, Evidence, and Implications.” In Delivering on the Promise of Pro-Poor Growth: Insights and Lessons from Country Experiences, edited by Timothy Besley, and Louise Cord, 79-118. Washington: Palgrave Macmilland and the World Bank. 67 Mannan, Manzurul. 2015. BRAC, Global Policy Language, and Women in Bangladesh: Transformation and Manipulation. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 68 Authors’ observations. 69 Spate, Oskar, and Andrew Learmonth. 1973. India and Pakistan: A General and Regional Geography. London: Methuen and Co. 70 Jack, James. 2013. The Economic Life of a Bengali District: A Study. London: Forgotten Books. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. Also see Spate, Oskar, and Andrew Learmonth. 1973. India and Pakistan: A General and Regional Geography. London: Methuen and Co. 73 Hossain, Amzad. 2001. “Renewing Self-Reliance for Rural Bangladesh through Renewable Energy Technology System.” PhD thesis. Perth, Australia: Murdoch University.
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74 Morse, Richard, Anisur Rahman, and Kersten Johnson, eds. 1995. Grassroots Horizons. Connecting Participatory Development Initiatives East and West. London: Intermediate Technology Publications. 75 Hossain, Amzad. 2016. “Sustainable Food Consumption: A Mission Almost Impossible because of the West.” In Impact of Meat Consumption on Health and Environmental Sustainability, edited by Talia Raphaely and Dora Marinova, 255263. Hershey, PA: IGI Global. 76 Murphy, Patrick, and Gene Laczniak. 2006. Marketing Ethics: Cases and Readings. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall. 77 Hossain, Amzad. 2016. “Sustainable Food Consumption: A Mission Almost Impossible because of the West.” In Impact of Meat Consumption on Health and Environmental Sustainability, edited by Talia Raphaely and Dora Marinova, 255263. Hershey, PA: IGI Global. 78 Rahman, Atiur. 1999. Ecofile: Periodical on Life and Nature. Dhaka: Unnayan Shannaya. 79 This song of Harun Baul (1940–2014), transliterated as “Sorol jibin japon, dishari hoy teksoi unnayon”, is very popular in Bangladesh and its verses are commonly known, including by the authors. 80 Lawrence, Stewart. 2007. “Toward Accounting for Sustainability: a New Zealand View.” In The Debate over Corporate Social Responsibility, edited by Steven May, George Cheney, and Juliet Roper, 232-240. New York: Oxford University Press, 237. 81 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2012. “Grassroots Cultural Policy for Water Management in Bangladesh.” Water Practice & Technology 7 (1). doi: 10.2166/wpt.2012.023. 82 Xu, Li, Dora Marinova, and Xiumei Guo. 2015. “Resilience Thinking: A Renewed System Approach for Sustainability Science.” Sustainability Science 10: 123-138. 83 Ibid. 84 Hossain, “Renewing Self-Reliance for Rural Bangladesh through Renewable Energy Technology System”, 112. 85 Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab. New Delhi: Zed Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics. Lexington, KY: Kentucky University Press. 86 Bhardwaj, Ashmita 2010. “From the Green Revolution to the Gene Revolution in India: Understanding the Risks and Benefits of Genetically Modified Crops.” In Environment and Social Justice: An International Perspective, edited by Dorceta Taylor, 241-259. Research in Social Problems and Public Policy, Volume 18. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. 87 Schumacher, Ernst Friedrich 1974. Small is Beautiful: A Study of Economics as if People Mattered. London: Abacus. Also see Willoughby, Kelvin. 1990. Technology Choice: A Critique of the Appropriate Technology Movement. London: Westview Press. 88 Morse, Rahman and Johnson, Grassroots Horizons. Connecting Participatory Development Initiatives East and West.
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Sen, Amartya. 1983. Poverty and Famines: An essay on Entitlement and Deprivation. New York: Oxford University Press. 90 Lewis, David. 1997. “NGOs, Donors, and the State in Bangladesh.” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 554, 33. 91 Faaland, Just, and Jeck Parkinson. 2003. Bangladesh: The Test Case for Development. London: C. Hurst & Company. 92 Khan, Niaz Ahmed, and A. Z. M. Manzoor Rashid. 2006. “A Study on the Indigenous Medicinal Plants and Healing Practices in Chittagong Hill Tracts (Bangladesh).” African Journal of Traditional, Complementary and Alternative Medicines 3 (3): 37-47. Also see Ecological Footprint Network. 2016. “Country Trends: Bangladesh.” Ecological Footprint Network. http://www.footprintnetwork.org/en/index.php/GFN/page/trends/bangladesh/. 93 Qureshi, Asad, Zia Ahmed, and Timothy Krupnik. 2015. Groundwater Management in Bangladesh: An Analysis of Problems and Opportunities. Cereal Systems Initiative for South Asia Mechanization and Irrigation Project, Research Report No. 2. Dhaka: USAid. http://csisa.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2014/01 /Groundwater-management-in-Bangladesh-An-analysis-of-problems-andopportunities.pdf. 94 Freestone David, Mohiuddin Farooque, and Salma Jahan. 2012. “Legal Implications of Global Climate Change for Bangladesh.” In The Implications of Climate and Sea-level Change for Bangladesh, edited by Richard Warrick and Qazi Kholiquzzaman Ahmad, 289-334. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic. 95 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2006. “Self-Reliance: A Sustainability Solution for Indigenous Communities.” Global Poverty: Sustainable Solutions Conference. Perth, Australia, http://www.sustainability.murdoch.edu.au/. 96 Khan, Abdullah, and Robert Raeside. 1997. “Factors Affecting the Most Recent Fertility Rates in Urban-Rural Bangladesh.” Social Science & Medicine 44 (3): 279-289. 97 Mannan, BRAC, Global Policy Language, and Women in Bangladesh: Transformation and Manipulation.
CHANGE AND THE DISCURSIVE FRONTIERS OF SECURITY
CHAPTER TEN SINO-INDIAN STRATEGIC COMPETITION AND THE NEW SCRAMBLE FOR THE INDIAN OCEAN DAVID BREWSTER
On January 27, 2014, a Chinese naval action group including China’s largest amphibious landing ship, the Changbaishan, and two modern destroyers, Wuhan and Haikou, steamed south through the Sunda Strait into the Indian Ocean. The Chinese vessels conducted a brief series of exercises in international waters between the Indonesian island of Java and Australia’s Christmas Island, almost certainly within the Indonesian or Australian exclusive economic zones, and then returned to the Pacific via the Lombok Strait.1 This unannounced exercise was the first of its kind by China’s People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLA Navy) in the eastern Indian Ocean, and was intended to demonstrate China’s capabilities against a sophisticated naval adversary. As official Chinese media later suggested, it involved “quick response training for electronic war in the Indian Ocean.”2 The Chinese exercise was followed only a few days later by a large multinational naval exercise hosted by the Indian Navy in the neighbouring Bay of Bengal. India’s Exercise Milan 2014, involved vessels from sixteen guest navies and coastguards from across the IndoPacific, including representatives from South Asia (Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Maldives); Southeast Asia (Myanmar, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Cambodia and the Philippines); Australasia (Australia and New Zealand), and even a strong representation from the western Indian Ocean (Kenya, Mauritius, Seychelles and Tanzania). Exercise Milan is held biennially and is primarily an exercise in Indian maritime diplomacy, focusing on building relationships and confidence among the military maritime community of participating states. This chapter uses these two naval exercises as a starting point to consider the key strategic dilemma faced by China in the Indian Ocean within the context of growing Sino-Indian rivalry. The balance of power in
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the Indian Ocean is changing, driven by the erosion of the longstanding US strategic predominance and the rise of China and India as major powers. However, at least at present, strategic competition in this region appears to be much more pronounced between China and India than between either of those countries and the United States. The United States has been the predominant power in the Indian Ocean for decades and might well be seen as a better known quantity. Indeed, many analysts see significant danger in an increasing strategic contest between China and India in the Indian Ocean as they jostle for influence and position in a way reminiscent of US-Soviet rivalry during the Cold War.3 The chapter makes two basic arguments: first, that China faces considerable geostrategic disadvantages in the Indian Ocean as compared with India; and second, that China may face difficulties in mitigating this either by itself or through developing reliable security partnerships with Indian Ocean states. These propositions differ from a more common narrative, under which a Chinese juggernaut is expanding its economic and political influence as a precursor to developing a security presence in the region that could threaten India. This chapter argues that, on the contrary, China faces a strategic dilemma across much of the Indian Ocean that it will find difficult to resolve in the foreseeable future. This strategic vulnerability is likely to have a significant impact on the security dynamics of the Indian Ocean region.
China’s Geostrategic Vulnerability in the Indian Ocean China faces profound strategic challenges in the Indian Ocean region that it cannot easily overcome, and this will have a significant effect on the strategic dynamic between China and India. China’s overwhelming strategic imperative in the Indian Ocean is the protection of its sea lines of communication (SLOCs) across the Indian Ocean, particularly the transport of energy.4 The most important of these SLOCs extends from the Strait of Hormuz at the mouth of the Persian Gulf, around the Indian subcontinent into the Bay of Bengal and through the Straits of Malacca. Other SLOCs extend across the Indian Ocean from Suez and from southern Africa. China is probably most vulnerable in the Malacca Strait, through which around 82% of China’s oil imports pass.5 According to Chinese President Hu Jiantao this chokepoint represents China’s “Malacca Dilemma”.6 China also faces the so-called “Hormuz Dilemma” in the Persian Gulf, where some 40% of China’s oil imports transit the Strait of Hormuz. Indeed, as will be discussed in this chapter, China faces a
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dilemma across the entire Indian Ocean, where its SLOCs are highly vulnerable to threats from state and non-state actors. China’s strategic vulnerability in the Indian Ocean is principally a function of geography. The Indian Ocean is a largely enclosed ocean, with few entry points and vast distances between. The east-west sea lanes across the ocean, over which much of the world’s energy is carried, are highly vulnerable to interdiction. This creates a strategic premium for those powers that are able to control the so-called “chokepoints” and deny their rivals access to key ports. For more than 500 years, since Portuguese adventurer and imperialist Afonso de Albuquerque transformed the Indian Ocean into a mare clausum (or “closed sea”) over which Portugal had exclusive jurisdiction, competing powers have jostled over control of the Indian Ocean chokepoints and the ports in between. The Indian Navy’s 2007 Maritime Military Strategy expressly invokes Albuquerque’s name to justify India’s strategy of seeking control over the key entry and exit points to the Indian Ocean.7 In contrast to India’s position, China currently has no ability to exert control over any of these chokepoints, nor does it yet have anything but nascent naval facilities in any Indian Ocean ports.8 China’s strategic vulnerability is reinforced by the scarcity of overland transport connections between it and the Indian Ocean. Formidable geographic barriers created by the mountain ranges, deserts and jungles along the southern edge of the Eurasian continent make the development of such links very difficult. Indeed, until well into the twentieth century, there were no major transport routes – roads, railways or rivers – connecting China with the Indian Ocean.9 Even today, there are only a handful of tenuous north-south links across the southern Asian littoral. This disconnect has limited China’s presence and influence in the region and further narrows China’s strategic options. Virtually all of China’s trade with Europe and the Middle East must cross the Indian Ocean, from west to east it must skirt the Indian subcontinent and transit Southeast Asia before landing at China’s Pacific Ocean ports.10 A combination of these factors means that in strategic jargon the Indian Ocean represents “exterior lines” for China and “interior lines” for India. The great triangle of the Indian subcontinent that juts south from Eurasia dominates the entire northern Indian Ocean, giving India a natural centrality to the region. Geography provides India with considerable military advantages in the Indian Ocean, including short lines of communication to its own bases and resources. China has corresponding disadvantages, including the need to deploy its naval forces to the Indian Ocean through narrow and dangerous chokepoints and then cope with very uncertain logistical support when it arrives.11 As a result, unlike other
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dimensions of strategic competition between India and China, the Indian Ocean is one area where India holds a clear military advantage over China. While there may be debate about the ultimate utility of India’s ability to dominate Indian Ocean SLOCs, it is nevertheless still seen as a key bargaining chip. As former Indian Chief of Naval Staff Admiral Mehta once commented: “The weak area for China today is the Indian Navy. We sit in the Indian Ocean and that is a concern for China and they are not happy as it is not so easy for them to come inside.”12 Indeed, the relative rarity of the PLA Navy actually “coming inside” the Indian Ocean is demonstrated by reactions to the foray of the Chinese surface action group into the Indian Ocean in January 2014. Some analysts breathlessly claimed that the voyage demonstrated the PLA Navy’s ability to “break through” the first island chain–as if the Chinese vessels had broken some maritime blockade.13 Indeed, the voyage was a useful exercise for the PLA Navy in familiarising itself with conditions in the eastern Indian Ocean. But one could also see the voyage as unremarkable: the ability of three Chinese ships to travel several thousand kilometers through international waters in the 21st century, just as ships have been doing for hundreds or thousands of years, should not be seen as an achievement of particular note. Indeed, the Chinese exercise only served to emphasise that the PLA Navy can only deploy to the Indian Ocean through a handful of narrow straits through the Indonesian archipelago–Malacca, Sunda, Lombok or Wetar–where its naval vessels can be tracked with relative ease and are highly vulnerable to interdiction.14 China is trying to mitigate its vulnerabilities in the Indian Ocean through building capabilities to project limited naval and air power into the Indian Ocean and through gaining greater access for its naval vessels to ports in the Indian Ocean.15 It is also developing limited overland transportation links to the Indian Ocean through Myanmar and potentially also Pakistan. But despite some of the rhetoric surrounding China’s growing presence in the Indian Ocean, these do little to mitigate China’s fundamental strategic disadvantages.
Building China’s Naval Capabilities In recent years, China has embarked on a major naval expansion program that has the potential to change the naval balance of power in the Western Pacific.16 China’s overall naval capabilities now exceed India’s in quantitative and qualitative terms and this differential is likely to expand in the coming years. But significantly, China’s power projection capabilities in the Indian Ocean are limited and are likely to remain so in
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the foreseeable future.17 The PLA Navy has little experience in projecting power beyond coastal waters. Although it has made relatively small antipiracy deployments in the Arabian Sea since 2008, these deployments have not transformed the PLA Navy into a true blue water navy. Despite its naval expansion program, it has a limited number of blue water naval combatants and limited long-range air strike capabilities. Even if it builds those capabilities, China’s ability to project power into the Indian Ocean will be highly constrained by the long distance from Chinese ports and air bases. The closest Chinese naval base to the Indian Ocean is at Hainan Island in the north of the South China Sea. Its air bases in southern China are at long distances from the Indian Ocean and the People’s Liberation Army Air Force has limited mid air refuelling capabilities.18 These constraints are compounded by the lack of guaranteed logistical support facilities available to the PLA Navy in the Indian Ocean, and the need for Chinese naval vessels to deploy to the Indian Ocean through narrow chokepoints in the Indonesian archipelago. For these and other reasons, many analysts argue that for the foreseeable future, China’s core naval objective will be on sea-denial in the Western Pacific.19
China’s String of Pearls Some believe that China is seeking to mitigate its lack of naval bases or logistic support facilities in the Indian Ocean through what has been called the “String of Pearls” strategy in which the PLA Navy will develop bases or have access to facilities across the northern Indian Ocean. Over the last decade or so, Chinese companies have been involved in the funding and construction of commercial port facilities at Gwadar (in Pakistan), Hambantota (in Sri Lanka) and Kyaukpyu (in Myanmar). Many Indian commentators in particular claim or assume that China has negotiated secret rights to allow the PLA Navy to develop a permanent presence in these ports when needed.20 Since the term was coined in 2005, the String of Pearls narrative in its various forms has been a prominent factor in Indian public debate about China and its intentions in the Indian Ocean.21 But there are considerable doubts about whether this strategy makes sense or whether China is pursuing it, at least in the sense of wanting to acquire a string of permanent naval bases. According to some analysts, converting the ports of Gwadar and Hambantota into naval bases would require billions of investment dollars in order to ensure their viability in wartime, and their exposed position would make them difficult to defend, especially against an enemy equipped with long-range precision strike capability.22
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Importantly, the interdiction of Chinese energy supplies by a major state actor would not be prevented by a permanent Chinese naval presence at these isolated ports (unless it was a massive presence). Indeed, to properly mitigate its vulnerabilities in the Indian Ocean, China would need to be able to defend the entire length of its SLOCs that run from inside the Persian Gulf around the Indian subcontinent and through the Malacca Straits. Further, while any Chinese naval presence might have some defensive value, it would have limited offensive value for China, as any offensive actions would immediately expose China’s long and vulnerable SLOCs to retaliatory measures. A report by the US Institute for National Strategic Studies concludes that although China has significant need for military basing facilities in the Indian Ocean region it is unlikely to construct military facilities in the Indian Ocean for the purpose of supporting major combat operations there.23 Although China intends to construct facilities in Djibouti to support its anti-piracy operations, these would not be suitable to support major combat operations in opposition to the United States or its allies – not least because of the number of other navies that have operational bases in Djibouti.24 Others argue that instead of trying to build its own naval bases, China will instead principally pursue a “places not bases” strategy in the Indian Ocean.25 This term refers to the post-Cold War strategy of the United States of seeking to avoid the political and economic costs associated with establishing permanent US bases in other countries in favour of more flexible arrangements that guarantee the US military access to critical infrastructure in times of crisis. In some ways this may make considerable sense for China, in that it would give China access to facilities for limited purposes, while avoiding the high political costs that would likely be associated with establishing a permanent naval presence in the Indian Ocean. However, the practical value of such arrangements would be very much dependent on the quality and reliability of China’s security relationships in the region. Such a strategy would require China to enter into agreements with host countries that allow for PLA Navy vessels to obtain logistical support when required. Indeed, Chinese vessels regularly use the ports of Djibouti, Salalah (in Oman) and Port Victoria (Seychelles) for logistical support of their anti-piracy deployment in the Arabian Sea.26 But a “places not bases” strategy would likely only be useful for limited purposes and in any event would require a reasonable degree of certainty that facilities would be available to the PLA Navy in the event of an acute crisis or conflict. The question therefore becomes: what countries in the
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Indian Ocean region would be willing to host Chinese vessels in an acute crisis, including one that involved India or the United States? In contrast to these debates, Beijing argues that the various port projects in the Indian Ocean region are purely commercial in nature. Indeed, although the PLA Navy has been deployed on anti-piracy duties in the Arabian Sea since 2008, Beijing has been generally cautious about an overt military presence in the Indian Ocean. Since late 2013, Beijing has also promoted its “Maritime Silk Route” (MSR) initiative as an alternative narrative to the String of Pearls. The proposal envisages a China-centric system of ports, infrastructure projects and special economic zones in Southeast Asia and the northern Indian Ocean. While much of public discussion to date has focused on ports and infrastructure, probably of greater significance is the development of new production and distribution chains across the region, with China at its centre. If implemented, the initiative would no doubt bind countries in the northern Indian Ocean much closer to the Chinese economy. The implications of the initiative for Indian Ocean security are not yet clear.
The Development of Overland Connections to the Indian Ocean China is also seeking to mitigate its strategic vulnerability in the Indian Ocean through developing new overland connections to the Indian Ocean through Myanmar and Pakistan as part of the One Belt One Road initiative. Through these projects, Yunnan and Xinjiang provinces would be turned into gateways for economic engagement with the Indian Ocean.27 China has had most success in developing connections through Myanmar, including recently completed oil and gas pipelines between the new deepwater port of Kyaukpyu in Myanmar and China’s southern Yunnan province. The decision to build the oil pipeline, in particular, was heavily influenced by Beijing’s concerns over the Malacca Dilemma, although when examined in detail, some of these arguments seem questionable.28 But the strategic value of Kyaukpyu port is also limited by the lack of road and rail links to China. The Kyaukpyu corridor was intended to include a 1,200 km railway to the Chinese city of Kunming at a cost of US$20 billion but this may have been delayed. There are also growing reservations in China about proceeding with such a major project in the “China-unfriendly” environment in Myanmar.29 China has also mooted plans to improve transport connectivity between its western Xinjian province and the Arabian Sea through Pakistan by developing a so-called China-Pakistan Economic Corridor
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between Gwadar and Kashgar in the western Chinese province of Xinjiang, at an expected cost of $46 billion.30 This would include improved road/rail links to Karachi and a proposed oil pipeline and road/rail link to Gwadar. But these links would traverse regions of Pakistan where there are significant security risks, which makes it difficult to envisage that a dependable large-scale corridor could be established to Gwadar, at least in the current security environment. Moreover, the extent to which these new connections may ultimately mitigate China’s strategic vulnerability in the Indian Ocean can be overstated. The Kyaukpyu-Kunming oil pipeline, for example, may only account for some 6.7% of China’s total oil imports in 2015 and 3.4% by 2030.31 China’s ability to rely on the Kyaukpyu and Gwadar pipelines as an alternative to shipping oil through the Malacca Strait would be moot if Chinese tankers were intercepted in the Persian Gulf or the Arabian Sea for example, and the pipelines themselves would be highly vulnerable to being cut by precision strikes or attack by local actors.
A Contest for Influence The overall strategic relationship between India and China is somewhat difficult and unstable and some observers believe that there has been a material deterioration in the Sino-Indian strategic relationship in recent years, propelling the countries towards a wider strategic rivalry. As Mohan Malik describes it: “Just as the Indian sub-continental plate has a tendency to constantly rub and push against the Eurasian tectonic plate, causing friction and volatility in the entire Himalayan mountain range, India’s bilateral relationship with China also remains volatile, friction and tensionridden.”32 There are numerous unresolved strategic issues between them, including a major border dispute in the Himalayas, Tibetan autonomy, China’s de facto alliance with Pakistan and its relationships elsewhere in South Asia. But unlike other dimensions, where India is generally at a major disadvantage to China, the Indian Ocean is the theatre in which China may be strategically vulnerable, and this may give the Indian Ocean theatre particular importance from India’s perspective. This author has previously argued that no security dilemma exists between India and China in respect of the naval balance in the Indian Ocean within the meaning of international relations theory.33 A “security dilemma,” as posited by theorists such as Robert Jervis, would require both India and China to be realistically concerned that the other is taking actions that may give a strategic advantage over it so as to create a threat (and not for example, merely seeking to mitigate an existing strategic
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disadvantage).34 As discussed above, there is little evidence that China could realistically gain a strategic advantage over India in the Indian Ocean in the foreseeable future, at least in the maritime realm. But while the concept of a “security dilemma” may not be entirely useful in understanding the dynamics of competition between India and China in the Indian Ocean, it does not mean that there is not a very keen contest for influence between India and China in the Indian Ocean: for India to maintain its considerable geostrategic advantage, and for China to partially mitigate its disadvantage. This is currently being played out in a jostle for influence between India and China throughout the region. As discussed above, the PLA Navy exercise in January 2014 highlighted not only China’s geographic isolation from the Indian Ocean but perhaps also the shallowness of its security relationships. Although China’s relationships in the region are undoubtedly growing, there are few countries in the Indian Ocean region that would realistically consider China as a key security provider to it. Indeed, the contrast between the Milan naval exercise conducted by India in February 2014 and the unnamed Chinese naval exercise conducted a few days earlier could not have been greater in terms of regional relationships. The Chinese deployment was unilateral and the PLA Navy vessels received no support from any neighbouring states. In contrast, India’s Exercise Milan involved vessels from sixteen guest navies and coastguards from across the IndoPacific. The exercise series is not primarily intended for practising technical skills, but rather for building confidence and relationships among the military maritime community of participating states. The exercise was an expression of India’s success in demonstrating strategic leadership as it grows as a credible power. The symbolism of Milan was reinforced a few weeks later with announcement by India’s National Security Advisor, Shiv Shankar Menon, that the Indian Ocean island states of Seychelles and Mauritius would be joining India's existing naval arrangement with Sri Lanka and the Maldives in a new Indian Ocean security grouping that some Indian officials have called the “IO-5”.35 India has held joint naval exercises with Sri Lanka for some years which have been expanded to trilateral exercises with the Maldives Coast Guard. It is not yet clear whether the proposed IO-5 arrangement would go much beyond meetings of respective national security advisors, but such an arrangement would nevertheless be the first time that India has explicitly taken a security leadership role in the Indian Ocean beyond South Asia. These developments are a manifestation of the 2013 announcement by Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh that henceforth India should be
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seen as a “net security provider to the region”.36 But while there may be a growing acceptance of India’s role as a regional security provider, its role in different parts of the Indian Ocean region is uneven. India has long had close security relationships with the Indian Ocean island states. In the eastern Indian Ocean, India has growing security relationships with Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) and Australia37 and the Bay of Bengal has now become a particular area of focus.38 In the western Indian Ocean, India also has growing security relationships with some smaller Arab states such as Oman and the United Arab Emirates, but its overall security role in the Persian Gulf remains somewhat constrained.39 Overall, the United States remains the most important security partner for most states in the Indian Ocean region and is likely to remain so for some time to come, although Washington is generally happy to see India further develop its role as a regional security provider. China’s economic influence is also growing throughout the Indian Ocean region in line with its rise as a world economic power. China is now the biggest trading partner for many states in the Indian Ocean region and is a major source of investment, especially in infrastructure. Several countries also seek to use China as a partial balance or hedge in their political and economic relations with bigger powers such as the United States and India.40 While many if not all states in the region are eager for more Chinese trade and investment, China has not had great success as yet in translating these economic relations into substantive security or defence relationships, particularly in the maritime realm. Smaller states, including Indian Ocean islands such as Sri Lanka, Maldives and Seychelles from time to time seek to play the “China card” in an effort to extract more concessions or economic assistance from India. For some, such as Myanmar, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, China is also a major source of arms. This is driven by several factors including the relative price of Chinese defence technology (a very important factor for most Indian Ocean states), the existence of international arms embargos (which at times have affected Myanmar and Sri Lanka) and balancing considerations (which at times have been important considerations for states such as Myanmar and Bangladesh). But concerns that arms supply relationships will be translated into substantive defence relationships are yet to be proved. Until recently, there were widespread concerns that the apparently close economic, political and arms supply relationship between China and the Myanmar military regime would be translated into a de facto alliance. Through the 1990s, Chinese companies were involved in the development or upgrading of several ports in Myanmar and the construction of a signals intelligence
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facility in the Bay of Bengal, which many analysts claimed were part of China’s String of Pearls strategy.41 But while Myanmar was happy to accept Chinese arms and investment it apparently had no intention of strategically subordinating itself to Beijing.42 Indeed, the Indian Navy publicly conceded in 2005 that there were no Chinese naval bases anywhere in Myanmar.43 Beginning in 2011, Myanmar has partly distanced itself from China. The cancellation of the huge Myitsone dam project which had been sponsored by China and was intended to be a major source of electricity to southern China, “fundamentally shook Chinese leaders’ trust and confidence in Myanmar as a partner.”44 This was followed soon after by Myanmar’s political opening towards the United States and India and the partial liberalisation of its political system, all of which has substantially reduced China’s influence in the country. These developments may have been the result of an overestimation by China of its political and economic influence. In any event, the deterioration of its relationship with Myanmar probably represents a significant set-back for China in the Indian Ocean region. Similarly, despite concerns about China’s role as the major supplier of weapons and training to the Bangladesh armed forces,45 there is no real indication that this has been translated into a substantive defence relationship. There is no operational coordination between the Bangladeshi and Chinese armed forces, they hold no substantive bilateral military exercises nor is there any indication that Bangladesh would be willing to host any Chinese naval or other military presence.46 The recent award of a contract to build a new port near Chittagong to Japanese interests and the decision not to proceed with a Chinese built port at Sonadia demonstrates some of the limitations on China’s influence. Concerns about China’s strategic influence in Sri Lanka have also been misplaced. In recent years, Colombo has been keen to cultivate Beijing as an economic partner to drive development and as a diplomatic partner to help fend off international pressure over human rights issues. Sri Lanka has now cast itself as China’s primary partner in the MSR initiative. Under the former Rajapaksa government there were some indications of Sri Lanka’s willingness to give China access to military-related facilities. Concerns about a possible Chinese military presence in Sri Lanka have been heightened by visits in September and October 2014 of Chinese submarines to a new Chinese-built port in Colombo.47 The previous government also proposed to establish a Chinese-run facility in northern Sri Lanka to support the Sri Lankan Air Force. But these developments were reversed following the ouster of President Rajapaksa in early 2015, with the new regime committed to placing Sri Lanka’s relationship with
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Beijing on a more “balanced” footing. While Sri Lanka may yet find a partnership with China as providing useful economic and political benefits, it is difficult to envisage it changing India’s historical geostrategic domination of that island. But China’s influence is growing elsewhere. Pakistan is China’s principal partner and de facto ally in the region, and the relationship is growing closer. Since the 1960s, China has established itself as a major supplier of arms to Pakistan and provided it with significant strategic support against India. The so-called “all weather friendship” with Pakistan (alongside its relationship with North Korea) is the closest China has come to a long-term alliance. The China factor has played a significant role in limiting India’s strategic options with Pakistan, largely through perceived threats on the Sino-Indian border in the Himalayas and through facilitating the proliferation of nuclear weapons and missiles to Pakistan. As noted above, in recent years Pakistan has indicated its readiness to host Chinese naval facilities at the port of Gwadar, although Beijing has responded cautiously to these suggestions. China may have good reasons to be cautious about the parameters of its relationship with Pakistan. While the United States is able to maintain freedom of navigation in the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz, China may as yet have little reason to establish a military presence at Gwadar.
China’s Strategic Dilemma in the Indian Ocean China suffers from fundamental strategic vulnerability in the Indian Ocean and its ability to mitigate that vulnerability is limited. For the foreseeable future, China is likely to have only a limited ability to project power into the Indian Ocean. The development of China’s putative “Pearls” and tenuous overland transport links would do little to mitigate these vulnerabilities. Indeed, it is difficult to conceive how China could ultimately be able to protect the entirety of its Indian Ocean SLOCs from India in the event of conflict between the two. Although India’s overall military capabilities are considerably less than China’s, the geographic centrality of the Indian subcontinent, which sits astride the key sea lanes that cross the northern Indian Ocean give it considerable natural advantages. China’s disadvantages in the Indian Ocean are only further reinforced by the strategic alignments of the Indian Ocean states, which largely tend towards the United States and/or India. After decades of avoiding security alignments in the Indian Ocean region, partly on ideological grounds,
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India is now in the process of building regional alignments in which it takes a leadership role. China’s economic influence in the region is undoubtedly growing, but it would be a mistake to assume that this directly translates into a substantial military presence. While there is considerable jostling among China, India and the United States to develop influence in the Indian Ocean region, no Indian Ocean state (with the exception of Pakistan) would currently see China as a security provider to it. Most Indian Ocean states are more or less following the experiences of other Asian states in developing their economic relationships with China while hedging their bets in terms of security. No doubt China’s strategic role will continue to develop in the Indian Ocean, but it is as yet difficult to envisage China overcoming its geostrategic vulnerabilities in the region.
Notes 1
Medcalf, Rory. 2014. “China Makes Statement as it Sends Naval Ships off Australia's Maritime Approaches.” Lowy Interpreter, February 7. http://www.lowyinterpreter.org/post/2014/02/07/China-makes-statement-as-itsends-naval-ships-off-Australias-maritime-approaches.aspx, accessed March 6, 2014. 2 China Central Television. “Combat Vessels training for Quick Response in Electronic War.” 2014. CCTV. Available at http://english.cntv.cn/program/newsupdate/20140202/100068.shtml, accessed March 6, 2014. 3 Kaplan, Robert D. 2009. “Center Stage for the Twenty-First Century.” Foreign Affairs: 16-29. Also see Mohan, C. Raja. 2012. Samudra Manthan: Sino-Indian Rivalry in the Indo-Pacific. Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. 4 Brewster, David. 2015. “An Indian Ocean Dilemma: Sino-Indian rivalry and China’s Strategic Vulnerability in the Indian Ocean.” Journal of the Indian Ocean Region 11 (1): 48-59. 5 US Department of Defense. 2012. Annual Report to Congress: Military and Security Developments Involving the People’s Republic of China, 42. 6 Storey, Ian. 2006. “China’s Malacca Dilemma.” Jamestown Foundation China Brief 6 (8). 7 Indian Navy. 2007. Freedom to Use the Seas: India’s Maritime Military Strategy, 59. 8 However, China’s announcement in December 2015 that it intends to build naval logistics facilities in Djibouti to support its anti-piracy operations is a first step in creating such as presence.
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9 Brewster, David. 2015. “Silk Roads and Strings of Pearls: the Strategic Geography of China’s New Pathways to the Indian Ocean.” Paper presented at 1st International Conference on Security in the Eurasia Blue Belt and Sea Power. Tokyo, Japan. December. 10 Ibid. 11 Holmes, James, R. 2012. “Inside, Outside: India's ‘Exterior Lines’ in the South China Sea.” Strategic Analysis 36 (30): 358-363. 12 Zeenews. 2009. "China afraid of India's naval presence in the Ocean." http://zeenews.india.com/news/nation/china-afraid-of-indias-naval-presence-inthe-ocean_555196.html. 13 See, also to similar effect, Chinese media reports quoted in US-China Economic and Security Review Commission Staff Report, 2014. The First and Second Island Chains are notional strings of islands running from Japan through the western Pacific and Southeast Asia that could be used to “cut off” China’s access to the ocean. Indonesia actually sits in the notional Second Island Chain. See Wroe, David. 2014. “China’s Military Might is Australia’s New Defence Reality.” Sydney Morning Herald, February 15. 14 By sea, air and potentially land-based anti-ship cruise missiles deployed at the choke points, see Wroe, David. 2014. “China, Myanmar: Stop that Train.” Asia Times, August 14. Also see US-China Economic and Security Review Commission Staff Report. 2014. “China’s Navy Extends its Combat Reach to the Indian Ocean.” March 14. http://www.uscc.gov/Research/china%E2%80%99s-navyextends-its-combat-reach-indian-ocean. Accessed 30 August 2014. 15 Kostecka, Daniel J. 2010. “The Chinese Navy’s Emerging Support Network in the Indian Ocean.” China Brief 10 (15): 3-5. 16 US Congressional Research Service. 2014. China Naval Modernization: Implications for U.S. Navy Capabilities—Background and Issues for Congress, August 5. 17 Yung, Christopher D. et al. 2010. China’s Out of Area Naval Operations: Case Studies, Trajectories, Obstacles, and Potential Solutions. Washington: National Defense University Press, December. 18 Perrett, Bradley. 2011. “China Expands its Military Reach.” Aviation Week & Space Technology, October 14. 19 Singh, Zorawar Daulet. 2013. “China Deterrence cannot come from Navy.” The Hindu, August 7. 20 Kostecka, “The Chinese Navy’s Emerging Support Network in the Indian Ocean.”. 21 Maitra, Ramtanu. 2005. “India Bids to Rule the Waves.” Asia Times, October 19. Also see Ramachandran, Sudha. 2007. “China Moves Into India's Back Yard.” Asia Times, March 13. 22 Kostecka, “The Chinese Navy’s Emerging Support Network in the Indian Ocean”. Also see Holmes, James R. and Toshi Yoshihara. 2008. “China’s Naval Ambitions in the Indian Ocean.” Journal of Strategic Studies 31 (3): 379-80.
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23 Yung, Christopher D, and Ross Rustici. 2014. “Not An Idea We Have to Shun”: Chinese Overseas Basing Requirements in the 21st Century. Washington D.C.: National Defense University Press. 24 Collins, Gabriel B. and Andrew Erickson. 2015. “Djibouti Likely to Become China’s First Indian Ocean Outpost.” China Signpost, July 11. 25 Kostecka, “The Chinese Navy’s Emerging Support Network in the Indian Ocean”. Also see Holmes and Toshi Yoshihara, “China’s Naval Ambitions in the Indian Ocean”. 26 Ibid. 27 Liu Jinxen. 2013. “China’s Bridgehead Strategy and Yunnan Province.” East by Southeast, 16 November. http://www.eastbysoutheast.com/chinas-bridgeheadstrategy-yunnan-province/#comments 28 Kong, Bo. 2010. “The Geopolitics of the Myanmar-China Oil and Gas Pipelines.” In Pipeline Politics in Asia: Energy Nationalism and Energy Markets edited by Mikkal E. Herberg, NPB Special Report No.2, September. 29 Sun, Yun. 2012. “China’s Strategic Misjudgement in Myanmar.” Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 31 (1): 73-96. 30 “Corridor of Power: Xi Jinping arrives, bearing gifts,” The Economist. 20 April 2015. http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21648918-xi-jinping-arrives-bearinggifts-corridor-power. 31 Erickson, Andrew S. and Gabriel B. Collins. 2010. “China’s Oil Security Pipe Dream.” Naval War College Review 63 (2): 91-2. 32 Malik, Mohan. 2011. China and India: Great Power Rivals. Boulder: FirstForumPress, 9. 33 Brewster, David. 2014. “Beyond the String of Pearls: Is there really a SinoIndian Security Dilemma in the Indian Ocean?” Journal of the Indian Ocean Region 10 (2): 133-149. 34 Jervis, R. 1978. “Cooperation under the Security Dilemma.” World Politics 30 (2): 186–214. 35 Sandeep Dikshit. “Seychelles, Mauritius join Indian Ocean Maritime Security Group.” The Hindu, 7 March 2014. http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/seychelles-mauritius-join-indian-oceanmaritime-security-group/article5758402.ece. 36 Vinay Kumar. “India well-positioned to become net security provider in our region and beyond: Manmohan Singh.” The Hindu, 23 May 2013. http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/india-well-positioned-to-become-a-netprovider-of-security-manmohan-singh/article4742337.ece. 37 Brewster, David. 2013. “India’s Defence Strategy and the India-ASEAN Relationship.” In India-ASEAN Defence Relations RSIS Monograph No.28, edited by Ajaya Kumar Das. Singapore: S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies. 38 Kabir Taneja. “India to Reset Strategic Policy for Region.” Sunday Guardian (Delhi), 8 November 2014. http://www.sunday-guardian.com/news/india-to-resetstrategic-policy-for-indian-ocean. 39 Brewster, David. 2014. India’s Ocean: The Story Of India’s Bid for Regional Leadership. London: Routledge.
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40 Kaplan, Robert D. 2009. “Center Stage for the Twenty-First Century.” Foreign Affairs: 16-29. Also see Mohan, C. Raja. 2012. Samudra Manthan: Sino-Indian Rivalry in the Indo-Pacific. Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Also see Mohan, C. Raja. 2012. Samudra Manthan: SinoIndian Rivalry in the Indo-Pacific. Washington: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. 41 Malik, Mohan. 2011. China and India: Great Power Rivals. 42 Myint-U, Thant. 2011. Where China Meets India: Burma and the New Crossroads of Asia. London: Faber and Faber. 43 Asian Defence Journal. 2005. “Interview with Admiral Arun Prakash, Chief of Naval Staff, Indian Navy.” October 22. 44 Sun, Yun. 2012. “China’s Strategic Misjudgement in Myanmar.” Journal of Current Southeast Asian Affairs 31 (1): 73-96. 45 Sitaraman, Srini. 2013. “Is South Asia Moving into the Chinese Orbit and Setting Off Alarm Bells in New Delhi?” Foreign Policy Journal, July 19. 46 Smaranayake, Nilanthi. 2012. “The Long Littoral Project: Bay of Bengal.” Center for Naval Analyses, September. Also see Kabir, Arafat. 2014. “China making a play at Bangladesh?” Forbes, January 3. 47 Brewster, David. 2014c. “Sri Lanka Tilts to China.” East Asia Forum, November 26. http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2014/11/26/sri-lanka-tilts-to-beijing/.
CHAPTER ELEVEN CRISIS AMIDST ABUNDANCE: FOOD SECURITY IN BANGLADESH ASIF SIDDIQUI, AMZAD HOSSAIN AND DORA MARINOVA1
Although eating is the most basic biological human requirement, food security is an extremely complex issue. In addition to nutritional aspects, a myriad of other factors impact and determine the way food is produced, distributed and consumed. Water quality and availability are also closely linked to food security.2 The most commonly used definition of food security originated from the 1996 World Food Summit and was then expanded to include social elements: “Food security exists when all people, at all times, have physical, social and economic access to sufficient, safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.”3 When these conditions are not met, the situation is described as food insecurity. To achieve food security, the World Health Organisation (WHO) refers to three pillars: availability (sufficient quantities on a consistent basis), access (being able to obtain sufficient quantities) and use (appropriate levels of nutrient intake and care related to water, preparation and sanitation).4 Food security varies across countries with many of them experiencing different sets of challenges in providing sufficient and safe food to their populations. These challenges relate to domestic production and imports; physical, social, cultural, economic, political and legal arrangements concerning food; resilience to environmental or economic shocks and stability in supply, including seasonal variability as well as adequate sanitation, health care, food storage and processing, clean water and adequate diets.5 Globally, food is still a privilege rather than a basic human right, with 21,000 people around the world dying from hunger daily and many more suffering from malnutrition, especially women, children and the elderly.6 At an international level, the Food and Agricultural
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Organization (FAO) of the United Nations (UN) monitors food security, or the lack thereof, across the globe. The importance of food was further highlighted in the UN Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), the first of which referred to the eradication of hunger. Adopted by the UN in 2015, one of the Sustainable Development Goals (Goal 2: Zero Hunger) also refers to food security.7 Food insecurity is recurrent among South Asian nations.8 The 2013 FAO Food Insecurity Report,9 however, reports significant progress achieved by Bangladesh in long-term commitment to food security. The Report states: Food security in Bangladesh is challenged by a host of factors ranging from the country’s ever-increasing population density, climate change, scarce natural resources (with nearly no agricultural land left untilled), vulnerability to price shocks and persistent poverty. In spite of these constraints, Bangladesh has already met the MDG hunger target... This remarkable feat was achieved in the context of rapid economic growth in the 1990s spurred by significant growth in agricultural productivity and driven by a combination of factors including macroeconomic stability, liberalisation of input markets and opening up of the economy.10
This significant progress was driven by major socio-economic and technological changes that occurred in the country since the 1970s. Despite rapid improvement in food security in Bangladesh during the mid 1990s, much more needs to be done to alleviate poverty and malnourishment and provide stable access to food for its entire population as well as avoid the pitfalls that many developed countries have made. We argue that Bangladesh still faces food insecurity despite the presence of many important resources and opportunities, a phenomenon which we describe as crisis amidst abundance. Nevertheless, this chapter argues that food security is achievable in Bangladesh with important changes related to making its population selfreliant, improving the health of the country’s waterways and maintaining a lifestyle of modest consumption which among other things limits the amount of animal proteins. The chapter is structured as follows. We adopt WHO’s three pillars model for food security (namely food availability, access to food and use of food)11 and explore its meaning specifically for Bangladesh (Figure 11.1). The foundation of each pillar in Figure 11.1 represents the current dominant problems that have the potential to undermine realization of food security in Bangladesh. These are the impacts of the Green Revolution in relation to availability, corruption in relation to access to food and pollution in relation to food use. These
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problems are discussed at the start of each section drawing on existing previous evidence and first-hand observations. The upper part of the three pillars represents the approach this paper puts forward to improving the availability, access and use of food by adopting self-reliance (for availability), restoring the health of waterways for food distribution and irrigation (for access) and espousing a modest lifestyle with moderate food consumption as promoted by the country’s spiritual leaders (for use). These are discussed in the second half of each section drawing on secondary evidence as well as the teachings of the Baul philosophers– Bangladesh’s most respected spiritual leaders. The conclusion of the chapter summarises the new approach and aligns it with the traditional blueprint for food security.
Figure 11.1. The pillars of food security in Bangladesh.12
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Food Availability In the 16th century and during the Mughal period (1575-1757) Bangladesh was known as “Golden Bengal,” “the Paradise of Nations” and “the land of wealth,” where there were regular surpluses of agricultural produce, including fruit, vegetables, fish and forestry products. The Dutch, Portuguese, British and French were trading food with the population. The country’s village elders believe that the “golden age” of Bangladesh lasted, though with gradual depletion, until the early part of the 20th century.13 Only fifty years ago the food supply situation in Bangladesh was more like a subsistence economy. There were much fewer people – only 60 million in 1960 compared to the 160 million now.14 They were mainly self-reliant and consumed fresh food such as rice, pulses, vegetables, fruits, milk, eggs and fish. Meat consumption was minimal and generally occurred on the days of Islamic animal sacrifice and wedding feasts.15 Rivers were running full and water was in abundance for the traditional agricultural system, yet the farmers only took a fraction of what is being used now. The pressure people inflicted on the environment for food production was lower, food availability was good, people consumed fewer calories, ate less meat16 and diets were sustainable.17
Green Revolution Since the 1970s, the issue of food security has become a paradox for Bangladesh since historically the country had been able to feed its population with goods and services available in the vicinity of village households. People used to sell and buy foodstuff from the village market.18 The intrusion of globalisation, including the Green Revolution technology systems, under the banner of foreign aid, triggered corruption and consumerism and started to cause food insecurity in many Indian Ocean countries, including Bangladesh.19 Evidence of the real impact of the Green Revolution on food security has been widely discussed since the 1990s.20 According to Rosset et al.,21 the dominant western technology linked with the Green Revolution destroys the very basis for future production, by degrading the soil and generating pest and weed problems, thus becoming increasingly difficult and costly to sustain yields for food security. Table 11.1 shows that although yields increased with the Green Revolution technologies, soil fertility deteriorated.22
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According to Uphoff,23 even yield in some cases where Green Revolution technologies were deployed has been stagnating. Combined with population growth, this means that productivity now depends on ever-increasing use of chemical and mechanised inputs, including increasing irrigation.24 Initially those inputs were affordable but now they are too dear to buy. The mechanised tillers encouraged the farmers to extend agricultural land by clearing grassland and forests and filling wetlands. As a result, there are hardly any grazing fields for cows, fewer fruit trees and fewer insect eating birds. Crops and vegetables that are grown using chemical inputs are perceived to be less tasty and less nutritious; people refer to them as saktihin – lacking of force, strength and energy. The mechanised cultivation and land clearing have also caused the rivers to be silted and dried with the runoff of topsoil. Consequently, many fish and other aquatic species have vanished. Increased crop intensity [%] 100 100 100
Soil fertility losses [%] 25-45 10-35 10-40
100
25-65
100
20-45
100
15-40
100
20-40
High land
100
20-70
High land High land High land
100 100 100
10-30 30-60 40-65
Zone
Types of land
Old Himalayan Piedmont Tista Floodplain Tista Meander Floodplain Old Brahmaputra Floodplain High Ganges River Floodplain Middle Meghna River Floodplain Surma Kushiyara Floodplian North Eastern Piedmont Plain Chittagong Coastal Plain Barind Tract Madhupur Tract
High land High land High land Medium high land High land Medium low land Medium low land
Table 11.1. Loss of soil fertility from intensified crop cultivation, Bangladesh, 1967-68 to 1997-98.25 The Green Revolution technology system redirected traditional rural productivity to a new route devoid of sustainability considerations, requiring integration of social, economic and environmental values.
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People’s practices have been further impaired by the donor-driven development framework which emerged in Bangladesh since the 1970s and promotes western values, cultural and technological attitudes. The Green Revolution created a wide range of problems – from pollution of water bodies by farm chemicals, accelerated land degradation and increased pressure on water supplies to a loss of genetic variability and enhanced vulnerability of crops to pests and diseases. Through the intricate interconnections and continuity between the earth and the human body, environmental deterioration also produced serious health problems creating “separation between production and reproduction, between innovation and regeneration.”26 The increasing price of agricultural inputs brought a series of social and cultural problems, including allowing a few rich people to benefit from the many poor, widening the economic gap between affluent and poor farmers, and politico-cultural crises due to the erosion of moral values.27 Furthermore, globalisation promoted western consumerism in Bangladesh and the desire for wealth, which contributed to corruption and political crisis. The combined consequences of the Green Revolution severely affected sustainable food production and distribution systems, making food security an enduring problem. Shiva describes the Green Revolution as generating conflict, creating violence, disrupting cultural and social balance and producing “ecological and political vulnerability and insecurity.”28 The resilience of Bangladesh’s main resource base, including land and water body ecosystems, changed and many of its original natural features have been lost. Since 1980, the post-Green Revolution development model has encouraged the construction of flood control dams instead of reexcavating the silting water bodies; land and crop management with chemical inputs instead of organic agriculture; and, mono-cropping and genetically modified varieties of food crops in place of multi-cropping with local varieties.29 Ahmad explains that at the time of building, high dams and other large water resource development programs encountered severe criticism and opposition because of technical, social, and environmental considerations – from concerns for seismic hazards, submergence, population displacements to downstream physical impacts to loss of farmland, forests and biodiversity.30
Self-Reliance A most crucial aspect of the Green Revolution is that it created dependencies on western types of technology and farming methods and
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rejected the capacity of non-western communities to find sustainable ways for maintaining their food security. Western culture through modernisation and marketisation started to gradually overshadow the traditional economic and environmental management in Bangladesh, bringing practices and values that are foreign to the country’s particular cultural and geoenvironmental context. However, there are claims that Bangladesh can achieve self-sufficiency in food production, especially in years with favourable weather.31 Climatic features and mud deposition on the inundated landmass have made Bangladesh one of the world's most fertile countries. Chemical fertilisers are unnecessary, since the natural cycle of silt deposition amounting to 2 billion tonnes per annum ensures continuing productivity. Most of the sediment load passes through the country to the Bay of Bengal, but part of it is deposited on the floodplain during over-bank spilling. The country’s resources constitute mostly of food crops, vegetables, fish, trees and fruits which village farmers conceive of as “renewables” because they can grow them repeatedly. Bangladesh is now making considerable progress towards replenishing the fertility of degraded land through the revival of ecological agriculture. A culture of self-reliance is re-emerging which guides people to live with the flexible provisions from the physical environment and not to put pressure on the country’s renewable land and other resources, upholding spiritual living in peace and happiness with nature.32 Growing all required food within the country, including denoting imports from the world market when the prices there are cheaper, would give Bangladesh long-term security and comparative advantage.33 Self-reliance based on the principles of simplicity, responsibility, respect, commitment and responsibility should direct technological choices in relation to land use, crop selection and community organization.34 It is essential to achieve food security in terms of production and availability and avoid the traps of harmful and unsustainable technologies.
Food Access Access to food should be understood not only as distribution systems and economic affordability but also as availability of land, water and other resources to generate nutrients. The situation with accessibility of food in present Bangladesh is a crucial issue because of two major factors – the compromised waterways which are important for food production and transport, and the highly corrupted and unsustainable distribution of land and land access rights. There is also the long-lasting water dispute between
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India and Bangladesh that impacts the livelihood of thousands of people, including their food access.
Corruption Geographically, Bangladesh occupies an area of 147,000 square kilometres with 230 rivers covering 24,000 kilometres of water length, innumerable natural lakes and canals and millions of artificial ponds.35 This amazing network provides not only water for plant irrigation but is also the transport system for food distribution. Climate change phenomena such as untimely floods, droughts and cyclones as well as vegetation clearing in the catchments are increasingly impacting Bangladesh’s waterways.36 A unilateral withdrawal of water by India from the large shared river (named Ganges in India and its main tributary Padma in Bangladesh) during the dry months of November to May has further caused severe and long-term ecological shock on the rivers flowing across the northern region of Bangladesh – about forty-four of them are at the point of dying and another ninety-five are on the way to disappearing.37 Consecutive corrupt and weak Bangladeshi governments have failed to make India comply with the agreement of water sharing signed at the time of the construction of the Farakka barrage in 1974 and renewed afterwards in 1996. India requires a certain level of water flow to maintain navigability in the Kolkata port and the functioning of the National Thermal Power Corp.38 Soon after signing the water agreement, it was discovered that the flow of the Ganges at Farraka was far less than anticipated.39 Bangladesh claims that it has never received the negotiated amounts because of its neighbour drawing water excessively and unilaterally in the upper riparian areas of the Ganges.40 Despite this, neither Bangladesh nor India has called for a revision of the bilateral water treaty which has a clause allowing for this.41 The situation is left unresolved with serious ecological and social consequences and conflicting claims about the level of water in the Ganges. What is clear is that the increased salinity, erosion rates and sedimentation, desertification of parts of the riverbed, decline of soil quality and decreased crop yields are seriously affecting food security in Bangladesh, impacting people’s livelihoods and causing them to migrate to other parts of the country. Ahmad et al. explain that the waterways largely constituted of the Ganges-Brahmaputra-Megna (GBM) river systems42 and their principal tributaries had served as major arteries of trade and commerce for centuries.43 Their importance, however, diminished in more recent times because of the construction of roads and highways, flood control dams and over-withdrawal of water upstream by India. The reduced water flow in
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the tributaries causes the traffic for food distribution to move to road and railway nodes. Yet, even today, the lower part of the GBM region depends upon waterways for transport, especially in Bangladesh. In addition to this long-lasting unresolved international water dispute, corruption in food management is rife. Hasan explains that a rapid private accumulation of financial resources imported from both local and foreign sources took place in the aftermath of independence.44 Two methods were used to distribute resources: “one by directly selling distribution licenses gained through political connections; and, second, through siphoning off marginal differences between ex-factory and market clearing prices.”45 This resulted in the gradual deterioration of access to essential nourishment, making Bangladesh a food insecure nation in the Indian Ocean region. Only since the 1990s has this trend started to reverse with a gradual improvement in food access. Until the 1980s, there were no embankment dams for flood control. According to Jones and Hollier, the gradual depletion of the wetland ecosystems associated with the Green Revolution flood control program pushed the country’s water resources almost to the point of unsustainability.46 A report by Das reveals the serious condition of water bodies in Bangladesh: “Once a life-giving component to the largely agrarian economy, the rivers nowadays present a sorrowful spectacle–very lean flow during the dry season and frequent floods during monsoon.… With the recession of water flow, saline water intrudes into the south-western rivers posing threats to the overall ecology, agriculture, forestry, fishery and the source of drinking water.”47 Further deterioration occurred with the clearance of mangroves to cultivate shrimp for the lucrative western markets. Indiscriminate construction of mud roads in and around wetlands also adversely impacted the health of their ecosystem. Rural development schemes caused various disruptions, including obstructing, dividing and filling wetlands,48 which affected water quantity and quality, biodiversity, fisheries, wildlife, land and soil stability. Many poor farmers have been pushed to marginal and fragile areas of the environment and lost their traditional rights as the protectors and preservers of wetland resources. Shiva asserts that this is the case in most developing countries,49 but because of the geography of Bangladesh, restoring and maintaining the health of wetland ecosystems is becoming an issue of greatest importance. Political instability coupled with pervasive corruption at all levels of governance has been the main reason behind the lack of revitalisation of the dying water transport system of the country vital for food access. Public service officials have been inefficient or negligent in looking after
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common interests. In some cases they have defied financial rules in tender processes, including for major development projects such as irrigation, river dredging or re-excavation and construction of flood control dams. The 2007 Anti-Corruption Commission found serious irregularities in different projects run by the Ministry of Water Resources amounting to approximately US$1.5 billion during 2001-06.50 The Green Revolution has been a major agent of mal-governance in Bangladesh effecting politics of favouritism and corrupting political processes. Government policies in the 1970s favoured large farmers when it came to access better seeds, fertilisers, irrigation water, roads and communal storehouses. A good example of this type of favouritism is the case of diesel fuel, which became unaffordable for poor farmers. Consequently, they could not achieve farming efficiency and the benefitcost ratio of their lands remained the same as under rain-fed conditions. During the Green Revolution, the income gap between the rich and poor actually increased, even though the total production of food crops increased.51 According to Rogers et al., the program produced more food but in the process also increased the numbers of landless labourers: “small farmers became agricultural workers for the large farmers who bought up their lands.”52 Many small farmers lost self-reliant food security and their ability to produce their own food while those still cultivating their own land or rented or shared lands increasingly suffered from food insecurity. The increase in population also affected land access, the size of landholdings and land distribution patterns. After the 1974 famine, foreign investors started to pour aid into Bangladesh in the name of hunger elimination and economic development, tying its new governing institutions to the Western market-based model of democracy.53 The new country attracted extensive foreign aid from organisations such as the World Bank, International Monetary Fund (IMF) and Asian Development Bank (ADB), and even today remains heavily dependent on it. For example, Bangladesh is one of the top ten recipients of the World Bank’s International Development Association’s gross disbursements reserved for the world’s poorest nations.54 The price of this is very high – in the early 2000s for every dollar in foreign aid received, the Government of Bangladesh was paying back 1.5 dollars in external debt repayments55 and, although relatively low compared to other developing countries, debt repayment remained at a high 20 percent of the country’s gross national income in 2015.56 It has long been known that foreign aid capital exerts significant negative effects on the recipient countries because it substitutes (rather than complements) domestic resources, helps import inappropriate technology, distorts domestic
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income distribution, and is biased toward a larger, inefficient and corrupt government in those countries.57 Mal-governance, including corruption, in Bangladesh is gradually pushing the country towards intellectual bankruptcy, making it vulnerable and exposed to severe environmental, social and economic setbacks such as food insecurity.58 The people of Bangladesh usually emotionally trust and support political parties and their representatives. This allows many politicians to become corrupt; especially when they receive accountabilityfree foreign aid for relief work, infrastructure development and import of goods and services from the donor counties.59 Each year the Bangladesh government accepts foreign aid to initiate projects, such as (re)excavation of water bodies but the allocated funds are stolen by politicians, bureaucrats, technocrats and implementing contractors. In this way corruption was widespread in the 1970s, 1980s60 and 1990s,61 and continues in the 2000s. In 2004 Bangladesh was the “champion” in the field of corruption according to Transparency International’s corruption perception index which ranks countries around the world according to the perceived level of public-sector corruption.62 In 2014 Bangladesh improved its comparative ranking to 145th out of 175 countries but still remains in the bottom part of the list of countries where corruption is perceived to be greatest.63 According to Hasan,64 corruption has become “all-pervasive”, extending from petty corruption to project corruption and food scandals. Faruqi stated: “most of the staff at the big ten water companies are anything but honest.”65
Healthy Waterways Restoring sustainable governance in Bangladesh in relation to food security is a big but not impossible task.66 Self-reliant living in village Bangladesh requires availability of agricultural land and reliable distribution systems in the vicinity of households. It relates also to healthy waterways which are both essential for food transportation and as a natural resource and fish habitat. Bangladesh is a wetland extensive country. Its wetlands function as the kidneys of the landscape, stabilising water supplies and cleansing pollution. They also protect the shorelines, recharge the groundwater aquifers and provide unique habitats for a wide variety of flora and fauna. The biodiversity supported by wetlands is essential for the natural food chain. These multiple functionalities of the wetlands are globally recognised and some refer to them as “biological supermarkets.”67 Understanding and managing wetland sustainability is of utmost importance not only from a
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sustainability point of view, but also from cultural and spiritual perspectives, particularly for a country like Bangladesh. Being a riverine country with surplus workforce, an efficient and sustainable food distribution system means that the country’s dying waterways and traditional muscle-driven water and land transport systems can be revitalised. This would affirm national level food security, facilitating accessibility for needy people under any circumstance and without interruption. This would also be highly complementary to Bangladesh’s depleting water, water resources including fish, ecologically sustainable agriculture and local employment for rural people.68 The concept of fully integrated water resource management, which emerged from Agenda 21 in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, implies that there should be an integrated approach in water resources planning among cobasin and co-riparian countries. The water resources planner of a region must ignore political boundaries to harness and explore resources in a sustainable manner, making sure that it strikes a balance between the drinking, agricultural, fisheries, navigational and environmental needs, not only for one nation, but most optimally for the sustainable development of the region. Finally, it should be said that at the time of the country’s liberation in 1970, the navigable waterways measured about 12,000 kilometres. Today there exist only 6,000 kilometres of classified waterways, which have further dwindled to 3,800 kilometres during the low water seasons. This means that 50 percent of the classified waterways have been lost within 50 years. Despite the prevailing critical conditions, the Inland Waterways Department has continued to serve its users who overwhelmingly belong to the underprivileged and poorer strata of society.69 The huge development potential of Bangladesh’s water resources can sustainably remove the region’s socio-economic deprivation, especially availability and access to food. A sustainable framework for water utilisation has long been needed and it involves the active cooperation of Indian Ocean countries.70
Food Use Food is affected by the health of the land and waterways used to grow it. On the other hand, high consumption levels, including waste, affect the availability of food, particularly when some people can afford to have more of it while others starve.
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Pollution Pollution is a big problem in Bangladesh with both marine and freshwater sources being severely affected by urbanisation, industrialisation, climate change and increased CO2 emissions, untreated waste, brickfield development, dying factories and tanneries.71 Farmers are using some rivers to rot jute plants, a process which diminishes the amount of available oxygen in the water and affects riparian life.72 Large parts of “the agricultural lands are [so] contaminated that they have lost their crop growing capacity and hence remain unused all the year round.”73 The Green Revolution also created chemical pollution of the land and waterways of the country. It created additional arsenic problems with the overuse of water resources. Gilbert estimates that “75 million people are exposed to arsenic-laden drinking water” with sharp increases of deaths from cancer expected in the future.74 Water containing poison impedes food security and the clean-up is slow because of the complexity of the problem and limited funding available. The chemical inputs from the Green Revolution impaired the topsoil which slips into the wetlands polluting and silting them during the lean seasons when water level shrinks. The waters become non-useable, species diversity declines, people dependent on wetland resources suffer and their eco-spiritual value deteriorates. However, with the fading away of traditional sustainable development practices for food production and distribution, the people of Bangladesh came to realise the deteriorating situation as a threat to their existence. The village elders, including the religious leaders and the Baul-philosophers, are coming forward to recoup the traditional ethos for self-reliant practices including reviving the waterways through re-excavation of the silting water bodies. Bangladesh is now making considerable progress towards the replenishment of the degraded land fertility through the revival of ecological agriculture and providing safe food.
Modesty The messages from influential spiritual leaders are stronger than those of the government. They call for the resurgence of traditional practices in regard to water management. Aziz Shah Fakir explains that rivers are deep enough to hold water throughout the year; boatmen used bamboo poles to push their boats from one place to another. The push and pull of the bamboo poles caused the release of silt from the riverbed which was then carried away by the river current to the Bay of Bengal. This made the
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rivers deeper. In contrast, the present use of boat engines facilitates silt accumulation rather than dispersing it. Local elders reveal bio-remedial means, the Bauls promote ecospirituality, NGOs conduct education and training, and government agencies engage villagers to re-excavate the silting wetlands in order to sustain healthy soil-base and biodiversity, including small fish and water plants as natural remedial agents to pollution. The Bauls also emphasise ecofriendly modernisation. Most importantly however, they emphasise modesty in consumption and a diet full of fruit, vegetables and nuts, distinctively different from the excessively meat-based western dietary preferences. They encourage sustainability through social acceptance of modesty and voluntary simplicity.75 Modesty in food consumption does not mean undernourishment or hunger. On the contrary, it implies levels of consumption that are good for human health and provision of important nutrients. Modesty discourages gluttony and helps prevents non-communicable and chronic diseases associated with high levels of meat consumption.76 From a sustainability point of view, modesty in food use calls for a balanced, predominantly plant-based diet which provides the most efficient way for calorie intake and conversion, increases human wellbeing and helps maintain the health of the natural environment on which millions of Bangladeshi people depend.77
Food Security through Availability, Access and Use The definition of food security by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation shows that the three pillars of food – availability, access and use – are the foundations for food security. Only when these conditions are put in place can a country claim to be “food secure.”78 The traditional blueprint for food security in Bangladesh is much easier to communicate, and is cited widely in the media, school textbooks, Baul songs, folk stories and proverbs: Nadi vora jol math vora sashay pukur vora maas gohal vora garu bari vora gaas pakhir kolotan shisur koahol bauler o majheer gaan Rathe banya jantu O vuther voy.
Waters in river, fields full of crops, ponds full of fish, cows in the cowshed, homesteads with trees, melodious tune of the birds, uproar of children, songs of Bauls and boatmen, fear of wild animals and ghosts at night.
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Bangladesh’s resource-bases, such as soil, waters and culture, are not the same as any other nation and it would be impossible to develop this country to resemble Australia, America or Europe. Bangladesh's future food security and related infrastructure need not be radically different from what it has been to date. If future Bangladesh can be shaped by the past, it can be argued that the country will be sustained in a better condition and resemble the Golden Bengal. Despite significant increases, the population of Bangladesh is likely to stabilise as its current fertility rates (at 2.2 births per woman in 2013)79 are much lower now and just above the replacement level. Bangladesh needs to follow a scenario that leaves nature in its pristine state, or help it to return to its pristine state, so that development does not overwhelm the carrying capacity of the ecosystem and disadvantage future generations.80 The country’s waterways are essential for its food security. People’s care about the sustainability of wetlands is informed by their survival needs as well as by their spirituality and concern for future generations. Sustainable rural development by way of reviving the country’s dying inland waterways through re-excavation, traditional rural education for sustainable rural living, and restoration of good governance are crucial for re-achieving food security for the country. A food secure society needs to be self-reliant. Amid the presence of abundant and sustainable provisions for food security, Bangladesh currently cannot achieve this. This chapter made the argument that building food security is dependent on important changes in its three pillars of availability, access and use. A self-reliant Bangladesh with healthy waterways and modesty in food consumption holds the promise of a sustainable and happy future. According to the Baul guru Aziz Shah Fakir, food security lies in the land and water resources as well as in a culture of self-reliance with basic essential provisions.
Notes 1
We want to thank the editors of the book and the two anonymous referees whose constructive comments helped improve the quality of the manuscript. 2 Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations. 2003. The State of the Food Insecurity in the World 2003: Monitoring Progress Towards the World Food Summit and Millennium Development Goals. Rome: FAO. ftp://ftp.fao.org/docrep/fao/006/j0083e/j0083e00.pdf. 3 World Summit on Food Security. 2009. Declaration of the World Summit on Food Security. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organisation, 1.
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http://www.fao.org/fileadmin/templates/wsfs/Summit/Docs/Final_Declaration/WS FS09_Declaration.pdf. 4 World Health Organization (WHO). 2015. “Trade, Foreign Policy, Diplomacy and Health: Food Security.” http://www.who.int/trade/glossary/story028/en/ 5 Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations. 2006. Food Security. Policy Brief, Issue 2. Rome: FAO. http://www.fao.org/forestry/131280e6f36f27e0091055bec28ebe830f46b3.pdf. 6 Al-Hameli, Asmaa. 2012. “How Many People Die Each Minute from Starvation?” Factchecking Injustice Facts. https://factcheckinginjusticefacts.wordpress.com/2012/01/16/asmaa-al-hameli/. 7 United Nations. 2016. “Sustainable Development Goals: 17 Goals to Transform Our World.” http://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/sustainable-developmentgoals/. 8 Siraj, Fatima. 2012. “Bangladesh – Striving for Food Security.” South Asia Global Affairs, October. http://www.saglobalaffairs.com/back -issues/1319-bangladesh-striving-for-food-security.html. 9 Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations. 2013. “Food Security Dimensions at the National Level.” http://www.fao.org/docrep/018/i3434e/i3434e03.pdf. 10 Ibid, 29. 11 World Health Organization (WHO). 2015. “Trade, Foreign Policy, Diplomacy and Health: Food Security.” 12 Ibid. 13 Novak, James. 1993. Bangladesh: Reflections on the Water. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 57. 14 Worldometers. 2015. “Bangladesh Population.” http://www.worldometers.info/world-population/bangladesh-population/. 15 Hossain, Amzad. 2016. “Sustainable Food Consumption: A Mission Almost Impossible because of the West.” In Impact of Meat Consumption on Health and Environmental Sustainability, edited by Talia Raphaely and Dora Marinova, 255263. Hershey, PA: IGI Global. 16 Comprehensive Assessment of Water Management in Agriculture. 2007. Water for Food, Water for Life: A Comprehensive Assessment of Water Management in Agriculture. London: Earthscan, and Colombo: International Water Management Institute. 17 Hossain, “Sustainable Food Consumption: A Mission Almost Impossible because of the West”. 18 Novak, James. 1993. Bangladesh: Reflections on the Water. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 57. 19 Hasan, Zoya, ed. 2007. Democracy in Muslim Societies: The Asian Experience. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Also see Veltmeyer, Henry, ed. 2008. New Perspective on Globalisation and Antiglobalisation: Prospects for a New World Order? Aldershot, UK: Ashgate. Also see Wheeler, Stephen. 2013. Planning for Sustainability: Creating Livable, Equitable and Ecological Communities. 2nd ed. London: Routledge.
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Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab. New Delhi: Zed Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics. Lexington, KY: Kentucky University Press. Also see Khan, Akbar Ali. 1996. Discovery of Bangladesh: Explorations into Dynamics of a Hidden Nation. Dhaka: The University Press. Also see Rosset, Peter, Joseph Collins, and Frances Moore Lappé. 2000. “Lessons from the Green Revolution.” Tikkun Magazine, March/April. http://www.soulrebels.org/ital/Pesticides_tA.pdf. Also see Bowers, C.A. 2006. Revitalizing the Commons: Cultural and Educational Sites Of Resistance and Affirmation. Oxford, UK: Lexington Books. 21 Rosset, Peter, Joseph Collins, and Frances Moore Lappé. 2000. “Lessons from the Green Revolution.” Tikkun Magazine, March/April. http://www.soulrebels.org/ital/Pesticides_tA.pdf. 22 Dauvergne, Peter. 2009. The A to Z of Environmentalism. Lanham, MD: The Scarecrow Press. 23 Uphoff, Norman, ed. 2002. “Introduction.” In Agroecological Innovations: Increasing Food Production with Participatory Development, edited by Norman Uphoff, xv-xviii. London: Earthscan. 24 Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab. New Delhi: Zed Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics. Also see Wuebbles, Donald, Atul Jain, and Robert Watts. 2002. “Concerns about Climate Change and Global Warming.” In Innovative Energy Strategies for CO2 Stabilization, edited by Robert Watts, 1-26. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. 25 Rahman, Sanzidur. 2008. “Environmental Consequences of Agricultural Development in Bangladesh: Empirical Evidence, Farmers‘ Perceptions and Their Determinants.” In Handbook of Environmental Policy, edited by Johannes Meijer and Arjan der Berg, 227-244. New York: Nova Science Publishers. 26 Shiva, Vandana. 2014. “Women, Ecology and Health: Rebuilding Connections.” In Close to Home: Women Reconnect Ecology, Health and Development, edited by Vandana Shiva, 1-9. Oxon, UK: Earthscan from Routledge, 5. 27 Basalla, George. 1988. The Evolution of Technology. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab. New Delhi: Zed Press. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics. Lexington, KY: Kentucky University Press. 28 Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics, 15. 29 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2012. “Changing Sustainability Scenarios in Bangladesh: The Synergies of Physical and Non-Physical World.” Rajshahi University Journal of Environmental Science 2: 75-86.
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30 Ahmad, Zahir Uddin. 2003. “Forgetting Political Boundaries in Identifying Water Development Potentials in the Basin-Wide Approach: The GangesBrahmaputra-Meghna Issues.” In Rethinking Water Management: Innovative Approaches to Contemporary Issues, edited by Caroline Figuères, Johan Rockström, and Cecilia Tortajada, 180-198. London: Routledge. 31 Asaduzzaman, M., Claudia Ringler, James Thurlow, and Shafiqul Alam. 2010. Investing in Crop Agriculture in Bangladesh for Higher Growth and Productivity, and Adaptation to Climate Change. Bangladesh Food Security Investment Forum, May. Dhaka. http://bids.org.bd/ifpri/investing6.pdf. 32 Hossain, Amzad. 2001. “Renewing Self-Reliance for Rural Bangladesh through Renewable Energy Technology System.” PhD thesis, Murdoch University. 33 Deb, Uttam, Mahabub Hossain, and Steve Jones. 2009. Rethinking Food Security Strategy: Self- Sufficiency or Self-reliance. Dhaka: UK Department for International Development. http://www.brac.net/sites/default/files/(g)%20Rethinking%20Food%20Security%2 0Strategy.pdf 34 Marinova, Dora, Amzad Hossain, and Popie Hossain-Rhaman. 2006. “Sustaining Local Lifestyle through Self-Reliance: Core Principles.” In Sharing Wisdom for Our Future: Environmental Education in Action, edited by Sandra Wooltorton and Dora Marinova, 373-380. Sydney, Australia: Australian Association for Environmental Education. 35 Brammer, Hugh. 1997. Agricultural Development Possibilities in Bangladesh. Dhaka: University Press. 36 Rogaly, Ben, Barbara Harriss-White, and Sugata Bose. 1999. Sonar Bangla? Agricultural Growth and Agrarian Change in West Bengal and Bangladesh. New York, NY: Sage Publications. 37 Khan, Abdur Rahman. 2008. “Bangladesh Drying up as India Withdrawing Ganges Water.” The News from Bangladesh. http://pkpolitics.com/discuss/topic/bangladesh-drying-up-as-india-withdrawingganges-water. 38 Ramachandran, Sudha. 2006. “India, Bangladesh Fight against the Current.” Asia Times, June 8. http://www.atimes.com/atimes/South_Asia/HF08Df04.html. 39 Kolås, Åshild, Katherine Edelen, Farzana Jahan, Line Barkved, Kristian Hoelscher, Hari Bansh Jha, Joyeeta Bhattacharjee, Silje Holen, and Jason Miklian. 2013. Water Scarcity in Bangladesh: Transboundary Rivers, Conflict and Cooperation. Oslo: Peace Research Institute. http://file.prio.no/publication_files/prio/PRIO%20Report%20%20Water%20Scarcity%20in%20Bangladesh.pdf. 40 Ramachandran, Sudha. 2006. “India, Bangladesh Fight against the Current.” 41 Kolås, Åshild, Katherine Edelen, Farzana Jahan, Line Barkved, Kristian Hoelscher, Hari Bansh Jha, Joyeeta Bhattacharjee, Silje Holen, and Jason Miklian. 2013. Water Scarcity in Bangladesh: Transboundary Rivers, Conflict and Cooperation. 42 “The GBM region river systems constitute the second largest hydrologic region in the world. The total drainage area is about 1.75 million square kilometres,
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stretching across five countries: Bangladesh, Bhutan, China, India and Nepal. While Bangladesh and India share all three rivers, China shares the Brahmaputra and the Ganges, Nepal only the Ganges, and Bhutan the Brahmaputra.” See Tortajada, Cecilia, Johan Rockström, and Caroline Figuères. 2003. ”Introduction.” In Rethinking Water Management: Innovative Approaches to Contemporary Issues, edited by Caroline Figuères, Johan Rockström, and Cecilia Tortajada, 1-7. London: Routledge, 6. 43 Ahmad, Zahir Uddin. 2003. “Forgetting Political Boundaries in Identifying Water Development Potentials in the Basin-Wide Approach: The GangesBrahmaputra-Meghna Issues.” In Rethinking Water Management: Innovative Approaches to Contemporary Issues, edited by Caroline Figuères, Johan Rockström, and Cecilia Tortajada, 180-198. London: Routledge, 195. 44 Hasan, Zoya, ed. 2007. Democracy in Muslim Societies: The Asian Experience. New Delhi: Sage Publications. 45 Ibid, 47. 46 Jones, Gareth, and Graham Hollier. 1997. Resources, Society and Environmental Management. London: Paul Chapman Publishing. 47 Das, T. K. 2005. “Naturalist: Dried Rivers, Scorched Hopes.” New Age, March. www.newagebd.com/2005/mar/09/nature.html. 48 Nakashima, Steven, and Mamunul Khan. 1995. A Basic Guide to Understanding the Environmental Impacts of Rural Roads on the Wetlands of Bangladesh. Dhaka: CARE International Bangladesh. 49 Shiva, Vandana. 1993. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Ecological Degradation and Political Conflict in Punjab.. Also see Shiva, Vandana. 2016. The Violence of the Green Revolution: Third World Agriculture, Ecology and Politics.. Also see Shiva V., Noeberg-Hodge H., Goldsmith E., Khor M. 1994. The Future Of Progress: Reflections on Environment and Development. Dehra Dun, India: Natraj Publishers. 50 Zaman, Iftekhar, and Tanvir Mahmud. 2008. “Bangladesh.” In Global Corruption Report 2008: Corruption in the Water Sector, 181-186. Cambridge, UK: Transparency International and Cambridge University Press. 51 Rogers, Peter, Kazi Jalal, and John Boyd. 2008. An Introduction to Sustainable Development. London: Earthscan, 74. 52 Ibid. 53 Sen, Amartya. 1983. Poverty and Famines: An Essay on Entitlement and Deprivation. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. 54 World Bank. 2012. Global Development Finance: External Debt of Developing Countries. Washington, DC: World Bank. http://data.worldbank.org/sites/default/files/gdf_2012.pdf. 55 Sushasoner Jonny Procharavizan (SUPRO). 2008. “External Debt, MDGs & Essential Services in Bangladesh.” http://www.jubileenederland.nl/db/upload/documents/External_Debt_MDGs__Ess ential_Services_in_Bangladesh.pdf 56 World Bank Group. 2015. International Debt Statistics: 2015. Washington, DC: World Bank. http://data.worldbank.org/sites/default/files/ids2015.pdf.
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Islam, Anisul. 1999. “Foreign Assistance and Development in Bangladesh.” In Foreign Aid: New Perspectives, edited by Kanhaya Gupta, 211-232. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic, 223-224. 58 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2005. “Poverty Alleviation – A Push towards Unsustainability in Bangladesh?.” Proceedings of the International Conference on Engaging Communities, Queensland Department of Main Roads. https://publications.qld.gov.au/storage/f/2014-0130T06%3A43%3A46.456Z/hossain-amzad-final.pdf 59 Cassen, Robert, and Associates. 1994. Does Aid Work? Report to an Intergovernmental Task Force. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. 60 De Vylder, Stefan. 1982. Agriculture in Chains. Bangladesh: A Case Study in Contradictions and Constraints. London: Zed Press. 61 Cassen, Robert, and Associates. 1994. Does Aid Work? Report to an Intergovernmental Task Force. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 62 Transparency International. 2004. “Corruption Perceptions Index 2004.” http://www.transparency.org/research/cpi/cpi_2004/0/. 63 Transparency International. 2014. “Corruption by Country/Territory: Bangladesh.” http://www.transparency.org/country#BGD). 64 Hasan, Zoya, ed. 2007. Democracy in Muslim Societies: The Asian Experience. New Delhi: Sage Publications, 49. 65 Faruqi, Naser. 2003. “Balancing Between the Eternal yesterday and the Eternal Tomorrow: Economic Globalisation, Water and Equity.” In Rethinking Water Management: Innovative Approaches to Contemporary Issues, edited by Caroline Figuères, Johan Rockström, and Cecilia Tortajada, 41-69. London: Routledge, 52. 66 Hossain, Amzad, and Dora Marinova. 2015. “Restoring Sustainable Governance in Bangladesh.” In Corruption, Good Governance and Economic Development: Contemporary Analysis and Case Studies, edited by Robin Ghosh and Md. Abu Bakar Siddique, 101-122. Singapore: World Scientific Publishing. 67 Mitsch, William, and James Gosselink. 2000. Wetlands. 3rd ed. New York, NY: Wiley and Sons, 3. 68 Islam, Mohammad 2012. “The Politics of Food Security in Bangladesh.” PhD Thesis, University of New South Wales, 103. http://www.unsworks.unsw.edu.au/primo_library/libweb/action/dlDisplay.do?vid= UNSWORKS&docId=unsworks_11039. 69 Khan, Parvez Ali Anwar. 2013. “Potentials of Inland Water Transport in Bangladesh.” The Guardian, November 6. http://www.theguardianbd.com/potentials-inland-water-transport-bangladesh/2/. 70 Figuères, Caroline, Johan Rockström, and Cecilia Tortajada, eds. 2003. Rethinking Water Management: Innovative Approaches to Contemporary Issues. London: Routledge. 71 Amin, Fahima. 2015. “Water Pollution of Most of the Water Sources in Bangladesh.” Foreign Affairs Insights & Reviews, March 24. http://fairbd.net/water-pollution-of-most-of-the-water-sources-in-bangladesh/. 72 Ibid. 73 Ibid.
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Gilbert, Steven. 2014. “Arsenic.” Toxipedia. http://www.toxipedia.org/display/toxipedia/Arsenic. 75 Lorenzen, Janet. 2014. “Green Consumption and Social Change: Debates over Responsibility, Private Action, and Access.” Sociology Compass 8 (8): 1063-1081. 76 Marsh, Kate Angela Saunders, and Carol Zeuschner. 2016. “Red Meat and Health: Evidence Regarding Red Meat and Chronic Disease Risk.” In Impact of Meat Consumption on Health and Environmental Sustainability, edited by Talia Raphaely and Dora Marinova, 131-177. Hershey, PA: IGI Global. 77 Raphaely, Talia, and Dora Marinova, eds. 2016. Impact of Meat Consumption on Health and Environmental Sustainability. Hershey, PA: IGI Global. 78 Koc, Mustafa, Rod MacRae, Luc Mougeot, and Jennifer Welsh. 1999. “Introduction: Food Security is a Global Concern.” In For Hunger-proof Cities: Sustainable Urban Food Systems, edited by Mustafa Koc, Rod MacRae, Luc Mougeot, and Jennifer Welsh, 1-10. Ottawa, ON: International Development Research Centre, 1. 79 World Bank. 2016. “Fertility Rate, Total (Births per Woman).” http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.DYN.TFRT.IN. 80 Rogers, Peter, Kazi Jalal, and John Boyd. 2008. An Introduction to Sustainable Development. London: Earthscan, 23.
CHAPTER TWELVE SECURING SPACE FOR HOSPITALITY IN A SETTLER-COLONIAL CITY1 ROBYN CREAGH, THOR KERR, SHAPHAN COX AND PATRICIA RYDER
Securing space for the ethics of hospitality to Aboriginal habitation in a city dominated by settler colonization is a challenging task. Through critical reflection on a modest exhibition in Perth, Western Australia, the authors identify five design tactics for securing de-colonised openings in settler-colonial space. The exhibition project was directed at disrupting ongoing criminalisation of Aboriginal people in the city, particularly members of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy, who had been raising awareness about a pending extinguishment of native title to land and waters in Perth and the Southwest of Western Australia. This heightened context of criminalization was marked by a series of increasingly violent police raids on the embassy, the general omission of Aboriginal occupancy rights in popular news reports and extraordinarily-high rates of Aboriginal incarceration, eviction and child-removal.2 The exhibition at the entrance to the state library included three works: one challenging popular media construction of tent embassy members as law-breaking outsiders; another presenting a counter-narrative to marginalisation of Aboriginal inhabitation in the city; and another soliciting engagement in telling stories of ongoing colonial violence aimed at excluding Aboriginal people from the city. Securing a space that will welcome people into an ethical relationship with otherness is a significant challenge given the ubiquitous structure of settler colonization 3 dominating Australian cities. Although Rowse has argued that settler colonization is contradicted by the existence of Indigenous agency and heterogeneity, 4 Coulthard has shown how it produces various contemporary forms of alienation among Indigenous peoples and how critical awareness of settler colonization can potentially
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disrupt its reproduction. 5 The implementation of settler-colonial spatial patterns continues to this day, as does Aboriginal resistance to its imposition. In a recent book, Pieris has examined architectural responses to the problem of articulating Aboriginal place-making in cities where: Centre and periphery, urban and remote are settler categories. The colonial period introduced organizational grids and produced a periphery but, prior to this space was configured around different templates and networks that persist to this day.6
Australian cities, therefore, remain locked in a permanent state of colonization and decolonization. 7 This chapter and the exhibition that preceded it seek a way through this deadlock by describing five tactics of spatial production that can open spaces of hospitality in a contested landscape: specifically to welcome people into an ethical relationship with otherness. In this chapter we draw on two theoretical concepts: “hospitality” and “habitability.”8 The notion of hospitality is tied into Derrida’s conception of a feminine welcome, which he describes as an openness to encounters with others through which the self is defined. This ethical openness offers a potential for seeing through the ethical masquerade of imposing “just” solutions over vast territories 9 such as the apparent neutrality of the contemporary settler-colonial city. In other words, an ethical horizon that embraces encounters with uncertainty can potentially disrupt the significant problem of racism normalised through discourses, institutions and practices of settler-colonial governance. Hospitality then as we are using it here is interwoven with uncertainty and subjectivity in an ethics of the feminine sublime. 10 For de Certeau, to inhabit an urban setting, the “lived city,” is to wilfully appropriate the systems and physical space of representation, commerce, and so on in a constant process of interrupting and infiltrating the “concept city.”11 A habitable space then is a place with entries and exits: a place that can not only be physically moved into but in which a gap in the field of control is opened which gives room for other narrative.
Nyoongar Tent Embassy Marking the 40th anniversary of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy’s enduring disruption of settler-colonial space in Australia’s capital city,12 the Nyoongar Tent Embassy was established on February 11, 2012 at Matagarup, the Heirisson Island Aboriginal heritage site (ID. 3589)13 around which the south-eastern boundary of Perth city is drawn. Concerned Aboriginal
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people gathered at the embassy to discern how to respond to the public announcement of a plan to extinguish native title to all but a fraction of Nyoongar boodjar (country), a unique cultural block in anthropological perspectives in the southwest corner of Western Australia.14 In return for Nyoongar people accepting this radical extinguishment of native title, the Western Australian government offered to pay A$700 million to Nyoongar corporations in annual instalments over twenty years, 15 arguably for ordinary government services.
Figure 12.1. Nyoongar Tent Embassy.16
The Nyoongar Tent Embassy was a peaceful place under the shady trees of Matagarup (Figure 12.1). Participants practiced traditions, made music, danced, laughed and discussed the complexities of Aboriginal social order. The Nyoongar Tent Embassy welcomed visitors who were respectful of the place, but there was a conceptual shift asked of visitors: that they accept to be other-ed, that is, to be a guest at the embassy on Matagurup. This necessitated recognising the validity of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy’s inhabitation. It was one of the few formal places in Perth where tourists and locals could visit to hear Aboriginal people talk about their lives in the city and their struggles for institutional recognition of
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their ordinary citizen rights – let alone some kind of colonial recognition of Aboriginal sovereignty. The peace of Matagarup – as a site of Indigenous place-making – was broken intermittently in February and March 2012. 17 First by City of Perth’s Chief Executive Officer delivering an eviction notice to the tent embassy, then by increasingly aggressive police raids, invasive practices by media workers and abuse shouted by strangers driving over the causeway bridge and cruising up the river. The presence of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy on Matagarup and the visibility of the violence against the embassy members could have worked to problematise the everyday racism within the settler city. However, this potential was constrained by the framing of media coverage and reactions of city officials, demanding the preservation of naturalised settler-colonial spatial practices. The counter narrative to settler space presented by the Nyoongar Tent Embassy was a performance of Aboriginal sovereignty. This performance included living, fishing, and holding meetings and gatherings around the sacred fire at Matagarup. Not seeking permission from the settler-colonial state was an important part of this. Instead, evidence of a bill of sale was sought from the Western Australian state government to demonstrate that Aboriginal rights over the land were continuing. Although initial news reports on the embassy did focus on land and justice claims, the media’s framing of news stories quickly shifted to an alleged illegality of camping on the island and the participant’s potential for violence, following an enduring pattern of popular media representation of the Nyoongar community. News reports associating tent embassy members with threats, crime scenes and responsibility for the police action directed against them supported narratives of criminality. The media frequently represented the Aboriginal volunteers giving their time at the embassy in negative or problematic ways by reducing them to illegal protesters or silencing them and excluding them from ordinary rights. Media reports also framed Nyoongar Tent Embassy members as lawbreakers through sensationalist news narrative and visual composition techniques that implicitly encouraged viewer identification with police and state authorities. The Nyoongar Tent Embassy can be understood as habitable, and hospitable. Yet the criminalising media representations and state violence indicate just how difficult it is for Indigenous place-making to disrupt what Hage describes as the enduring problem of the “unfished western colonial project… in a land of permanent de-colonisation.”18 In between violent interruptions, the Nyoongar Tent Embassy was successful in extending Aboriginal hospitality, opening up a space within the everyday, introducing a counter-narrative about urban Aboriginality, problematising
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the naturalisation of colonisation, and inviting participation within the place. The temporal physical presence of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy highlighted approaches and possibilities for further collaborative decolonisation efforts.
Working in the Library Producing this chapter has likewise involved a struggle for de-colonisation within a settler-colonial institutional setting. After being invited to make an exhibition about the Nyoongar Tent Embassy for the National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee (NAIDOC) week in July 2013, our approach was to develop a space to invite discussions about the tent embassy and indigenous rights, as well as being Aboriginal in the city. The NAIDOC week exhibition I’m Not Going Anywhere. I’m Here All The Time sought to mirror the tent embassy by offering a place to encounter alternative narratives while quietly interrupting and appropriating the power of the State library of Western Australia as a centre of colonial knowledge. The exhibition came about at the invitation of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy after the less-successful work that three non-Aboriginal authors (Creagh, Kerr and Cox) had initiated for the academic Reading Public Spaces symposium19 in latent consultation with the embassy based on Cox and Kerr’s work with the Nyoongar Tent Embassy investigating media representation. The invitation to develop work for NAIDOC week included an experienced local Aboriginal heritage worker (Ryder) joining the authorial team from the outset in conceptualising, planning and implementing a public exhibition for NAIDOC Week 2013: shifting the project back into alignment with AIATSIS guidelines and Samia Mehrez’s argument that decolonisation can only be achieved by both the coloniser and the colonised working together.20 The challenge for the authorial team in both the development of the exhibition and this chapter has been to open up an institutional space in processes dominated by settler colonisation for recognition of the contributions of its decolonising other. The non-aboriginal authors of this chapter (Creagh, Kerr and Cox) benefited from the contribution of Ryder in both calling out colonial slips in this text as well as from her expertise as an Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Worker and experience as an Aboriginal person in Perth.
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Figure 12.2. State Library of WA. The yellow vinyl I’m Here All The Time is visible on the lower window.21
The authors approached the State Library of Western Australia about hosting the installation as part of the NAIDOC Week calendar of events. Damien Webb, the library’s Indigenous Engagement Officer, was an important advocate for the installation in institutional conversations and was key in securing space for the exhibition. The resulting installation of works was in place for seven days and consisted of three parts, located in the ground floor foyer space of the library adjacent to the main entry from within Perth’s cultural centre (Figure 12.2). The installation I’m Not Going Anywhere. I’m Here All the Time opened up a habitable space within the fixed colonial narrative laid over Perth’s urban environment. In this way it reflected the provocation of the presence of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy on Heirisson Island in early 2012, and the quiet space for reflection and conversation that the embassy opened within itself. Likewise McGaw, Piers and Potter identify the broader need for designers to explore how to de-colonise the settlercolonial city in support of Indigenous right to the “centre” and “ground.”22 Continuing this discussion, this section reflects on five tactics used in the production of the exhibition to open a plural and hospitable discursive space for visitors to have a welcome encounter with their others.
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Five Tactics 1. Aboriginal Hospitality Enables the Project Engaging with the Nyoongar Tent Embassy hinged on recognising the embassy members as hosts. Ryder’s contribution was essential to the project’s success because it meant that Aboriginal perspective was central in the conception and production. Ryder hoped the development and exhibition of the works would communicate to a broad audience the idea that practicing indigenous rights is normal, as is recognising these rights and respecting these practices. All four authors feel that these ideals were not fully achieved, but that the lessons gained in this collaboration suggest the potential for further works with greater impact. For Creagh, Kerr and Cox, the opportunity to work with Ryder in the development of the three works was invaluable. Having a shared project opened up an opportunity for listening and conversation. Ryder brought with her valuable experience and knowledge – cultural capital – outside the experience of Creagh, Kerr and Cox. From the background of her work in Aboriginal heritage, and as an Aboriginal person in Perth, Ryder advised on the appropriateness of visual language for the target audience of local Nyoongar people, veteran Aboriginal activists and broader population. The organisers of NAIDOC week also extended their hospitality in accepting the exhibition as part of the country-wide indigenous program of events. The Indigenous Engagement Officer of the State Library, Damien Webb, was then hospitable in identifying suitable space for the exhibition and facilitating its integration into the institution. Finally, the exhibition relied on Aboriginal people accepting the works and contributing their experiences. Without all this hospitality, the exhibition would have lacked impact and authenticity.
2. Opening up Everyday Space (Habitability) Makes Room for Hospitality In the Western Australian State Library, the Nook is used by people for study, rest, quiet conversation and to charge their devices when it is not otherwise occupied by an art installation. The works collected in I’m Not Going Anywhere. I’m Here All The Time did not disrupt this habitual use of the space (Figure 12.3). Perhaps as a result of fitting into everyday habits, people visiting the exhibition were able to have a slower encounter with the works than typically observed in art exhibitions where a walk-by or short pause encounter is common. It is also possible that the Library, as
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a place for reading, invited a slower, more readerly encounter. From the observed pace and focus of visitors it seemed the entirety of the works were taken in, rather than just the didactic panels. The works sat at home within the norms of the Perth community, quietly upturning the media representations of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy participants, and Aboriginal people more generally, as outsiders in Perth. Many of the habitual activities of people visiting the Nook continued during the exhibition. People charged phones, discussed homework and sat and watched their children stand at the glass window watching the seagulls in the shallow pool outside the window. This was a space where it was possible to step for a moment into other narratives whether in a daydream, through an interaction with a friend or in accepting the invitation of the installation to consider Nyoongar hospitality.
Figure 12.3. Exhibition in the Nook, State Library of WA, during 2013 NAIDOC week.23
3. Problematising Colonial Naturalisation Opens up Concept Space (Field of Control) The work Matagarup/Heirisson Island provides context to the events of February and March 2012 in and around the Nyoongar Tent Embassy. In this work, the violence witnessed by people watching the local news is presented as an outcome of the seemingly benign classification of a public space as a parkland and recreation reserve in contradiction to state, national and international understandings of the cultural significance and use of this community place. This context enabled the actions by local politicians, media and police to be seen as illegitimate in the face of traditional and legal understanding. This problematisation of the colonial de-centring of Aboriginal voices and rights opens up a gap in the field of settler-colonial control. Documents describing the island, Aboriginal heritage at Matagarup and indigenous rights are juxtaposed with News-media photographs of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy on Heirisson Island in early 2012. The
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documents (under glass) were sourced from the United Nations, the Federal Court of Australia, the Site File for Matagarup within the Department of Aboriginal Affairs library and the City of Perth Urban Design Framework.24 The media images (on the wall behind) were from news articles published by the ABC and Perth Now.25
Figure 12.4. Heirisson Island, Matagarup: negotiation and conflict in photojournalism and technologies of spatial classification.
The four photographs negotiate two conflicting readings of this place. On the one hand they document continued practice of cultural relationship to the land and, on the other, they record the violent outcomes of overlooking this right. The first image shows a group of women joining hands around a sacred fire with onlookers in the foreground. The second image shows a group of men, joined by footballer and advocate Scott Chisolm, standing behind a fire. Activist Herbet Bropho is pointing and addressing the media. A news cameraman is also visible with the group. The third image depicts a group of women sitting and standing next to a statue of Yagan, draped with Aboriginal flags, on the western end of Heirisson Island. The final image shows a Nyoongar man held to the ground with his arms twisted and held behind his back by two police officers. A mobile phone sits on his back, perhaps recording what is said during this violent encounter. In the background, people are running towards the camera. In the realm of popular discourse, the media has an advantage over the supposedly more powerful legal documents. However, in this work through the juxtaposition of photojournalism and archival documents this installation invites the viewer to explore tensions between the media images and legal classifications of places. The work contextualises the violent consequences of a seemingly benign classification of a public
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space as parkland and recreation reserve which necessarily relies on an elision of state, national and international authorisations. Under national and state law, Matagarup is registered and recognised as a site of continuing significance to Nyoongar people. It is only at the local level that Matagarup is not recognised. Heirisson Island is listed by the City of Perth as a recreational reserve, where camping is not permitted. This highlights the disparity between opposing views in regards to Aboriginal Cultural Heritage. This is an important point that was commonly overlooked despite the state government undertaking a review of the Aboriginal Heritage Act 1972 at that time. 26 Contradictions like these further evidence the lack of cultural understanding or cross-cultural education within the local government area. The only aspect of the site understood to be of significance to Aboriginal people by the local council is the statue of Yagan at the west end of the island. The whitewashing of history and current cultural practice is evident in the master plan proposing the transformation of Heirisson Island into a sculpture park27 – the final document included under glass. As the physical conflict between police and community members recorded in media images also suggests, this designer fantasy is not the only outcome of overlooking Aboriginal people’s continued cultural relationship with the area.
4. Introducing Counter-Narrative Offers Hospitality The work I’m Here All The Time offered a narrative countering the Cartesian division of the city. I’m Here All The Time visually presented the truth of Aboriginal people’s presence in the city, in the past, present and future despite physical changes to land form and the abstract division and re-division of city space. The work makes a claim on place “here,” which is not fixed in terms of space but instead fixed by presence in time. The text that traces the river in both contemporary and pre-colonial time periods repeats the same phrase: “I’M HERE ALL THE TIME. I’M HERE. ALL THE TIME I’M HERE. ALL THE TIME. I’M. HERE ALL THE TIME.” (Figure 12.5) “I’m here all the time,” is a phrase picked up from a media bite during one of the police raids on the Nyoongar Tent Embassy that echoes in the authors’ minds like the demonstration chant “always was, always will be, Aboriginal land.” Extended news video footage (by PerthNow) of the police raid shows Aboriginal people standing their ground as a police column marches through Matagarup to remove a vehicle. After police officers repeatedly say “move back,” a man responds: “What are you telling us to move on for? You move, you move. Don’t tell me to move. I live. I’m here all the time. I’m here all the time.”
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The legitimacy of this and other statements around spatial injustice voiced by tent embassy members in the face of columns of armed police was lost on the News Limited reporter, who called this expression “abuse” hurled at police.
Figure 12.5 I’m Here All The Time [detail].28
To give space for such comments to be heard for what they were, the vinyl work in the exhibition’s window was designed to disrupt the dominant discourse naturalising spatial privilege, and to support a feminine welcome in the ethics of responsibility and hospitality29 to the demands of Australia’s strangers within. 30 Like the walking maps of Collard and Jones,31 the ethical masquerade of imposing naturalisations of “just” solutions over vast urban territory32 is exposed through an openness to the aesthetics of subjectivity-making encounters where the outcome is uncertain.33 In responding to the media deauthorisation of contemporary Aboriginal presence and cultural practice in the City of Perth during the Nyoongar Tent Embassy’s gathering at Matagarup, this work reflects the counter-story presented by the embassy that Aboriginal people are in Perth just as they have been for years and will continue to be. The contrasting, and at times overlapping, lines of the vinyl installation on the window of the Nook therefore functioned as a metaphor for the ongoing competing claims to place, suggesting a multiplicity of claims while seeking to
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disrupt technologies of colonial cartography fixing space in slices of time. Locating the work in the window of the Nook so that it was visible from the outside of the library, day and night, was a move to speak to passers-by and people hanging around outside the buildings in the Perth Cultural Centre. This visual disruption enables the viewer to recognise that there is more than one system of spatial governance at work. This opportunity to recognise an other and their hospitality is a key tactic of this installation.
5. Inviting Participation Creates Habitability The final work, I’m Not Going Anywhere, draws a connection between move-on notices issued by police in central Perth and the continuing cultural significance of this area to Aboriginal people. The number of move-on notices issued annually to Aboriginal people more than doubled from 4,643 in 2008 to 9,978 in 2012 according to police,34 which suggests policy of increasing opposition to Aboriginal people in the city. Move-on notices are legitimised by representation of urban Aboriginality as criminality. A 1.06 metre by 1.57 metre map of central Perth was foam mounted and hung vertically. Alongside this tags, pins and pens were prepared for visitors to the exhibition to add to the work if they chose. Visitors to the exhibition were invited to record narratives which described places of Aboriginal significance, and to mark the location of any move-on notices they had received in central Perth. A second but no less important mode of interaction with this work was to read messages left by others (Figure 12.6). Other traces seemed to have been left by children: scribbles, mentions of ice cream, I heart Perth, and so on. Many places of cultural significance were pinned on the map including the location of a Waygul resting point, a recent smoking ceremony, and Miller’s cave. Other notes referred to incidences of police harassment, and described aspects of the conflict between police and members of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy on Matagarup. Several move-on notices were also recorded during the exhibition and a printed map was added outlining an area in Northbridge in which a man claimed to have been told by police that he was excluded from. The map enumerated the 105 move-on notices the man had received in and around this area (Figure 12.7). Through the parallel mapping of move-on notices and narratives of Aboriginal significance, this work invites the visitor to think about the further marginalisation of already marginalised people and the relationship between Aboriginal cultural significance and exclusion from space.
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Figure 12.6. Visitors read notes left by other visitors on the participatory work I’m Not Going Anywhere…
This work offered hospitality to the visitors by inviting active contributions to the map. This invitation was accepted by some Aboriginal people, and non-aboriginal people, in recording move-on notices and places of Aboriginal cultural significance. The changeable and tactile nature of this work attracted people to engage more actively with this work than the other works. People would stand in front of the work lifting and reading annotated tags one after the other (Figure 12.7). This affective participation invited passers-by and visitors to engage with the exhibition works within the protection of the appropriated institutional space. The opportunity to make an observable contribution to the work invites visitors into a sense of shared-authorship of the work and the exhibition place.35
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Figure 12.7. Map describing an individual’s narrative affixed to I’m Not Going Anywhere…
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Challenging the Discourse of Control In making this installation the authors attempted to secure a space for welcoming people into an ethical relationship with otherness. This was an act of de-colonisation. The exhibition represented the continuing presence of Aboriginal people in the city; recognised that Aboriginal people practicing rights is normal; recognised the normality and validity of these rights; and recognised that being Aboriginal in the city takes place in a continuing field of settler colonisation. This was an attempt to create an opening in an institutional space of the settler-colonial city to recognise the contribution of its decolonising other. Visitor interactions with the works during NAIDOC week suggest that these five tactics could be applied more broadly and with greater impact by designers of urban spaces in Australia and elsewhere. The modest exhibition is nevertheless a provocation. It works to disrupt the colonial narratives of Aboriginality confined to the dreamtime before settler-colonial arrival. It also disrupts the idea that colonial processes are in the past and unproblematically resolved. The works introduce and juxtapose counter stories: Aboriginal people are continuingly present in the urban realm; public spaces have Aboriginal significance and are sites of continued Aboriginal cultural practice; and settler-colonisation continues and is contested. This provocation and challenge to the discourse of control is necessary to open up space for the possibility of multiple place identities. Design works can play a role in this through an approach to ethical place-making practices. Although a far from complete project, the authors’ participatory installation invited visitors to the exhibition into a place which might be described as “habitable”36 and “hospitable.” 37 The exhibition challenged the impossibility of Aboriginal sovereignty. 38 The installation of these works and the participatory and thoughtful interactions of visitors to the exhibition opened a place for discussions – about the tent embassy, indigenous rights, and being Aboriginal in the city – into the (not unproblematic) protection of appropriated institutional space. Such ethical and hospitable openings are needed in urban settings where “place-making cultures of the Australian settler-colonial city continue to… disrupt Indigenous place-making.”39 Here we suggest a starting point for designers of de-colonised spaces: to recognise that Aboriginal hospitality is essential to the project; that de-colonisation needs to occur within everyday spaces; that narratives of benign colonial control must be problematised; counternarratives must be offered; and an invitation extended for participation in securing de-colonised places.
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Notes 1
The authors acknowledge the land upon which we stand, recognising it as a sacred place in its entirety to the “old people” and those that are custodians today. The authors would like to acknowledge the collaboration and support of the Nyoongar Tent Embassy in the making, reviewing and showing of I’m Not Going Anywhere. I’m Here All the Time as part of 2013 NAIDOC week. The authors would like to thank Damien Webb and the State Library of Western Australia for their collaboration and the opportunity to show their work in an appropriate public setting. 2 Kerr, Thor and Cox, Shaphan. 2016. “Media, Machines and Might: Reproducing Western Australia’s Violent State of Aboriginal Protection.” Somatechnics 6 (1): 89–105. DOI: 10.3366/soma.2016.0176. 3 Wolfe, Patrick. 2001. “Land, Labor, and Difference: Elementary Structures of Race.” The American Historical Review 106 (3): 866-905. 4 Rowse, Tim. 2014. “Indigenous Heterogeneity.” Australian Historical Studies 45 (3): 297-310. DOI: 10.1080/1031461X.2014.946523. 5 Coulthard, Glen Sean. 2014. Red Skin, White Masks: Rejecting the Colonial Politics of Recognition. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. 6 McGaw, Janet and Anoma Pieris. 2015. Assembling the Centre: Architecture for Indigenous Culture: Australia and Beyond. UK: Routledge, 43. 7 Hage, Ghassan. 2003. Against Paranoid Nationalism: Searching for Hope in a Shrinking Society. Annandale: Pluto Press Australia. 8 Derrida, Jacques. 1999. Adieu to Emmanuel Levinas. Translated by P. Brault & M. Naas. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Also see de Certeau, Michel. 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life. Translated by Steven Rendall. London: University of California Press. 9 Copjec, Joan. 2004. Imagine There's No Woman: Ethics and Sublimation. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. Also see Foley, G. & T. Anderson. 2006. “Land Rights and Aboriginal Voices.” Australian Journal of Human Rights 12 (1): 83-108. http://www.austlii.edu.au. 10 Zylinska, Joanna. 1998. “The Feminine Sublime: Between Aesthetics and Ethics.” Women: A Cultural Review 9 (1): 97-105. DOI: 10.1080/09574049808578336. 11 de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life. 12 Foley, Gary, Schaap, Andrew & Howell, Edwina. 2014. Eds. The Aboriginal Tent Embassy: Sovereignty, Black Power, Land Rights and the State. Abingdon. 13 Aboriginal Heritage Inquiry System. 2012. Site 3589. Perth: Government of Western Australia’s Department of Indigenous Affairs. http://www.dia.wa.gov.au/AHIS/default.aspx. 14 Host, John and Owen, Chris. 2009. ‘It's Still In My. Heart, This Is My Country’: The Single Noongar Claim History. Crawley, WA: UWA Press. 15 South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council. 2012. “The Facts. Perth.” Accessed 31 October 2014. http://www.noongar.org.au/images/pdf/forms/The%20Facts%20on%20propsed%2 0native%20title%20settlement%20of%20the%20SW.pdf .
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Photograph by Prapti Widinugraheni on 3 March 2012. Kerr, Thor & Cox, Shaphan. 2013. Setting Up the Nyoongar Tent Embassy: A Report on Perth Media. R. Briggs, N. Lucy & S. Mickler eds. Perth: Ctrl-Z Press. 18 Hage, Ghassan. 2003. Against Paranoid Nationalism: Searching for Hope in a Shrinking Society. Annandale: Pluto Press Australia. 19 Creagh, Robyn, Kerr, Thor and Shaphan Cox. 2013. Heirisson Island, Matagarup: Negotiation and Conflict in Photojournalism and Technologies of Spatial classification. Reading Public Spaces: East Perth. 20 Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. 2012. Guidelines for Ethical Research in Australian Indigenous Studies 2012. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. http://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/research-and-guides/ethics/gerais.pdf. Also see Hooks, Bell. 1992. Black Looks: Race and Representation. Boston: South End Press. 21 Photograph by author 2013. 22 McGaw, Janet., Anoma Pieris and Emily Potter. 2011. “Indigenous PlaceMaking in the City: Dispossessions, Occupations and Implications for Cultural Architecture.” Architectural Theory Review 16 (3): 309. DOI: 10.1080/13264826.2011.621544. 23 Photograph by author 2013. 24 City of Perth. 2010. An Urban Design Framework: A Vision for Perth 2029. Perth: City of Perth. 25 Photograph by Kerris Berrington. 2012. Galleries: Tent embassy shutdown. http://www.perthnow.com.au/gallery-e6frg1vc-1226275014477?page=3. Also see Photograph by Justin Benson-Cooper. 2012. Galleries: Heirisson Island. http://www.perthnow.com.au/gallery-e6frg1vc-1226307476414?page=12. Also see Photograph by Justin Benson-Cooper. 2012. Galleries: Heirisson Island. http://www.perthnow.com.au/gallery-e6frg1vc-1226307476414?page=29. Also see photograph by Justin Benson-Cooper. 2012. Galleries: Heirisson Island. http://www.perthnow.com.au/gallery-e6frg1vc-1226307476414?page=7. 26 Kerr and Cox, “Media, Machines and Might: Reproducing Western Australia’s Violent State of Aboriginal Protection”. 27 Urbis. 2008. Heirisson Island Sculpture Park: Master Plan Report June 2008. Perth: City of Perth. 28 Photo by author 2013. 29 Derrida, Adieu to Emmanuel Levinas. Also see Levinas, Emmanuel. 1985. Ethics and infinity: Conversations with Philippe Nemo. Translated by R. A. Cohen. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 95-101. 30 Ahmed, Sara. 2012. On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 3. 31 Leonard Collard and Tod Jones have highlighted the way in which settler space has been imposed over Nyoongar space in a pair of maps locating Aboriginal history in the Perth CBD. These maps take the form of heritage trail walking maps, as if for tourists or young families looking for an outing. The first of the two maps highlights points within the grid of the city streets to describe landscapes and 17
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activities that have no currently visible trace. See http://www.perth.wa.gov.au/ourcapital-city/things-see-and-do/karla-yarning-stories-home-fires. 32 Copjec, Imagine There's No Woman: Ethics and Sublimation. 33 Zylinska, “The Feminine Sublime: Between Aesthetics and Ethics”. 34 Parliament of Western Australia. 2013. “Parliamentary Question 442: Ethnicity of the Recipients of the MoveǦOn Notices 2008Ǧ13." http://www.parliament.wa.gov.au/publications/tabledpapers.nsf/displaypaper/3910 486a6ae8ae68ccd54ced48257bbf005228a1/$file/486.pdf. 35 Creagh R. 2014. Memory and Urban Place: A Visual Enquiry. Unpublished PhD Thesis. Curtin University. 36 de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life. 37 Derrida, Adieu to Emmanuel Levinas. Also see Levinas, Ethics and infinity: Conversations with Philippe Nemo. 38 Watson, Irene. 2007. “Aboriginal Sovereignties: Past, Present and Future (Im)possibilities.” In S. Perera ed. Our Patch: Enacting Australian Sovereignty Post-2001. Perth: Network Books, 24. 39 McGaw and Pieris, Assembling the Centre: Architecture for Indigenous Culture: Australia and Beyond.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN LET ME TELL YOU A STORY: INDIAN OCEAN REGIONAL FUTURES IN A PLANETARY CIVILISATION ANITA SYKES-KELLEHER
Storytelling is central to societal evolution and organising. It is common to all cultures and has been used for communication since humans first painted on cave walls. In this chapter, the role of story in societal transitions is briefly explored before considering some of the ways in which story is used today to shape thought and action. My central argument is that storytelling in the form of myth drives societal evolution and is therefore key to the exploration of possible futures for an Indian Ocean regional entity and identity in an emerging planetary civilisation. Focusing then on globalisation, I will illustrate how stories as symbols of the future have been used to express different views of societal evolution to the planetary civilisation and how myths and metaphors can be used to understand and create new futures. Finally, I will explore myths and metaphors for Indian Ocean regional futures, reimagine two ancient myths from China and India, and propose transmedia storytelling as a contemporary means of co-creating and communicating multiple narratives that would engage younger generations in shaping the region’s future. As governments in the region begin to commit to the United Nations 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, the engagement of youth in Narrative Foresight and social activism is critical to the intergenerational ethos of sustainability and the achievement of the 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).
Storytelling Aside from my love of books as a child, and the pleasure of reading to my children and grandchildren, I had no particular interest in stories until
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fifteen years ago when I entered into formal studies. As a mature-aged student with a business management background, I began researching methods that supported transformational leadership. One of the methods that captured my interest for its flexibility and use in leadership and strategy was scenario planning. I began crafting scenarios for different purposes using a range of methods discovered in the Futures Studies literature and realised that all had something in common: the scenario was better understood and acted upon when relayed in narrative form. Searching then for a research approach that blended scenarios with story I discovered Causal Layered Analysis (CLA), a method – described below – that enabled me to weave statistics, systems thinking, stakeholder worldviews and story into multiple layers of analysis and use the power of stories about the future to transform thought and action in the present. In 2007 when I started reading for my doctorate, storytelling became central to the research design as a means of both collecting empirical materials from different nations and then communicating the findings back to people with different cultural and civilisational backgrounds. This chapter builds on my interests in storytelling, futures and intercultural relations by introducing transmedia storytelling as a means through which younger generations could reinterpret the ancient myths of the Indian Ocean region into stories of possible shared regional futures. My hope is that by encouraging intercultural dialogue and a playful approach to Narrative Foresight and participatory cultural expression, the creation of multiple shared regional future stories will foster conditions for peaceful sustainable development in the region. As Thomas Berry writes: The historical mission of our times is to reinvent the human at the species level, with critical reflection, within the community of life systems, in a time-developmental context, by means of story and shared dream experience.1
The Roles of Image and Story in Societal Transitions In his seminal work, The Image of the Future, Fred Polak linked images of the future with the dynamics of culture, concluding that the image a society holds of its future determines the rise or descent of that society’s culture. A positive, quality image leads to a vibrant, healthy culture and society whereas a negative image will lead to its demise.2 His studies showed that new images of human potential precede and accompany significant periods of social transformation. One Western view is that human societies have undergone three major transitions in the past and that a fourth is underway, a possible scenario of
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“The Great Transition” that sees a Planetary Civilisation emerge by the end of this century.3 Relating these transitions to social organising, story and myths, as early humans formed larger social groupings they developed a shamanistic symbolic universe in which myth became the primary form of expression.4 Myths associated with the sky and featuring the Great Goddess as a hunter emerged during the late Stone Age, crafted by huntergatherer societies. In the transition to Early Civilisation, characterised by small settlements and agricultural societies, creation myths helped people to make sense of their world. The transition to the Modern Era saw social organising in the form of cities, an additional layer of identity of citizen, and myths and legends becoming politically motivated, written specifically for city rulers linking them to the gods and reinforcing their command over social order. If we accept that a Planetary Civilisation is emerging, what stories and images are we currently promoting globally and for Indian Ocean regional futures? For Riane Eisler “our most urgent need is to provide the human mind with the wherewithal to image and thereby create a better world.”5 The repurposing of stories and images for societal transformation has engaged many writers in the past thirty years.6 Ricoeur describes stories as “models for the redescription of the world.”7 Psychologists and neuroscientists have studied the human attachment to storytelling and how the emotional and cognitive effects of story influence our beliefs and decisions.8 Their studies reveal that storytelling is one of the few human traits that are universal across cultures and throughout history, hence stories provide common ground for people to exchange information about the past and create new worlds for the future.9 In the Indian Ocean region, with culturally diverse littoral states already undergoing significant transformation through population growth and development initiatives, the co-creation of visionary future stories could catalyse peaceful, inclusive sustainable development in the region as envisaged in the United Nations 2030 Sustainable Development Goals.10 As other writers in this book discuss identity, I will not do so in detail here. Suffice to say that, if we enter the planetary phase of societal evolution, planetary considerations will increasingly be asked of humanity. Laszlo regards the notion of humans assuming a planetary identity as plausible given current common threats, such as climate change, to human lineage as well as the proven adaptive and generative capacities of humans.11 Scientists tell us that as humans, we must shift our thought and behaviour inside a generation if we are to avert the worst impacts of human-induced climate change.12 For me this suggests the need for strong, positive images and transformational stories that assist the transition to a
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planetary civilisation, the adoption of a planetary identity, and a form of global governance system that makes wise decisions on the human family’s common affairs.
New Stories for the Future: Uncovering Myths and Metaphors through Layered Analysis Narrative Foresight is a theoretical framework and practice that delves into deep narratives of past, present and futures with the aim of creating desirable futures. It works to collaboratively create multiple stories of futures, generate a shared preferred future, and foster social activism through practical action agendas.13 Narrative Foresight is the approach taken here. Adopting a critical research lens, which assumes that language encodes and embodies power relationships, I have analysed the discourses of various actor groups including their social and historical origins and power bases, aiming to expose the fundamental role of language in the formation of power relations.14 I used a form of Critical Discourse Analysis based on the works of Foucault where critique, power and ideology are emphasised to a greater degree than in other forms of discourse analysis.15 I then developed a matrix to map the patterns in language and discourses, and located them in relation to ideologies, power bases and institutions within the four layers of the Futures Research method: Causal Layered Analysis (CLA).16 CLA is briefly described below, together with the images I have assigned to each layer. This layered method is one way of surfacing and creating deep narratives within a Narrative Foresight framework and is used twice in this chapter. First, to compare two models of globalisation and global governance futures from a synthesis of stories about a planetary civilisation from the Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organisation (UNPO) and second, to analyse current Indian Ocean discourses in relation to ancient myths.
Layer 1: The Litany on the Digital Screen The litany level of CLA generally comprises quantitative trends and issues, statistical measures and official histories. At this level, information is often presented in news media and websites as problems, such as “the ageing population.” According to Inayatullah, little analytic capability is required and data are rarely questioned.17
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Layer 2: A Kaleidoscope of Systems and Social Causes As the kaleidoscope produces a different pattern with each turn of the tube, so the systems and social analyses produce a different pattern of insights according to the dynamics of the interplay between social, technological, environmental, economic and political domains, hence multiple patterns are discernible at this level producing alternative maps of the interconnected systems under review. Confucian knowing supports this networked thinking, seeking: a comprehensive and unobstructed awareness of interdependent conditions and their latent, vague possibilities where the meaning and value of each element is a function of its own particular network of relationships.18
Vertical Layer 3: The Prism of Worldviews and Discourses As human cultures have evolved in different environments, like the many colours revealed when a beam of white light passes through a prism, each has unique socially constructed realities that form integral parts of its worldview. At this level of analysis the worldviews might be ideological positions, “civilisational worldviews, epistemic commitments, stakeholder interests and multiple and/or contesting worldviews” of the same topic.19 The discourses entailed with worldviews typically verbalise deep ideological or cultural allegiances, such as values and beliefs, which underpin the worldview.
Vertical Layer 4: The Cultural DNA of Metaphor and Myth The fourth and deepest layer is concerned with myth and metaphor, focusing on “the deep stories, the collective archetypes, and the unconscious and often emotive dimensions of the problem or the paradox.” At this level “the language used is less specific, more concerned with evoking visual images, with touching the heart instead of reading the head.”20 The intent is to draw out and deconstruct deeply ingrained myths and metaphors, articulate alternative stories, and bring the subconscious and the mythic to futures research.21 For Ervin Laszlo, myth creation offers a means to disturb current social realities and introduce more desirable patterns into societies.22 Hence, myths can serve both social and political functions; create, sustain, challenge or strengthen values, beliefs, ideologies and power bases; and shape communication and evolutionary direction. My aim is to disturb existing myths and propose new versions of old stories about the Indian
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Ocean that might contribute to the necessary societal transformation.
Globalisation, a Planetary Civilisation and the Shift of Power from West to East As Vedaprajinananda writes, “it is not a question about whether there will be a global society in the twenty-first century. It is a question of what kind of global society will emerge.”23 Globalisation is one of the most contested phenomena of our time, yet it is not a new phenomenon. When viewed from the societal evolutionary perspective, globalisation is part of a long historical process that began with human biological evolution that enabled our ancestors to leave Africa and explore the world.24 Over many millennia, globalisation has contributed to the development of human societies “through travel, trade, migration, the spread of cultural influences and the dissemination of knowledge and understanding.”25 Globalisation, experienced as travel, also enabled military conquests and empire building initially by land and later by sea as European explorers sought new lands to exploit. What has changed since our ancestors’ time is the nature of globalisation, which has transitioned from travel to the highly contested neoliberal form that has stimulated concerned debate amongst nongovernment actors, including “environmentalists and polluters, indigenous peoples and corporations, feminists and male chauvinists, human rights activists and authoritarian rulers, nationalists and multi-lateralists, the ‘North’ and ‘South.’”26 The neoliberal focus on globalisation as a politicaleconomic phenomenon produces a narrowly constructed discourse that misses the diversity Friedman envisages in his discussion on Globalisation 3.0.27 Here he sees a future globalisation driven by “a much more diverse non-Western, non-white group of individuals,”28 a form of globalisation that would incorporate a much wider range of worldviews, adding richness to the globalisation debates. The shift in political and economic influence from the West to the East creates the possibility of an Indian Ocean regional alliance becoming a driver for Globalisation 3.0 and leading a more inclusive form of globalisation as proposed by De Sousa Santos and as envisaged by the United Nations in their adoption of inclusivity as a key theme running through the 2030 sustainable development agenda.29 This would counter the distinct cultural hegemony that is being exerted through the storytelling platforms of the media and driven by neoliberal philosophy: empire building through cultural domination rather than military, as in the past.30 Placing neoliberal globalisation within the context of a specific time
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and space enables us to view it as a unique product of that era. It also enables us to more fully appreciate that this seemingly dominant form of globalisation might not resemble the international relations discourses that preceded it nor the intercultural dialogues currently in progress that will shape globalisation for the future.31 The uncertainty inherent in the future opens up the space for alternative views of globalisation that are representations of the discourses of international actors and NGOs jostling for positions of influence. In turn these multiple globalisations, competing ideologies and emerging political landscapes suggest a range of possible global governance futures, one of which proposes a transition to regionalisation as the preferred move towards a Planetary Civilisation and a global system for managing the common affairs of the human family.32 Proponents of this particular regionalisation model are the UNPO.33 Using the layered methodology outlined previously I have compared the UNPO preferred model of the future with the Assertive Multilateralism model favoured by the Commission on Global Governance in Table 13.1, considering who holds and exercises global power in the future, what are the ideologies underpinning their use of power, what stories are emerging to influence the transition and who is creating them.34 The “UNPO Preferred” future is based on the stories of twenty-five representatives attending the Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organisation General Assembly in Rome, Italy, in 2010.35 It is a future predicated on Ubuntuism, an ideological position named after the African philosophy of Ubuntu that rejects Descarte’s individualistic position “I think therefore I am” for the collectivist, humanist position promoted by Archbishop Desmond Tutu of “I am because we are.” The UNPO General Assembly delegates are in favour of regionalisation before globalisation and support the European Union and African Union approaches.36 For the Indian Ocean rim states, and from the UNPO perspectives, will a shared regional identity be the first step towards effectively participating in the emerging Planetary Civilisation?
254 Future/ CLA The Litany Measures of Progress Issues and History
Systems and Social Causes
Structures and Agency Basis of Power
Worldviews Ideologies Epistemes Globalisation Time
Discourses
Metaphors and Myths
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UNPO Preferred
Trade balances, GDP., stock exchanges, transnational corporation listings. Issues: security and development. Seventeenth – twenty-first century. Westphalia, League of Nations, Bretton Woods, UN.
Genuine Progress Indicators, indices of democracy, freedom and planetary wellbeing. Issues: security, social justice, environment, inequalities, identity, exclusion, neo-liberal globalisation. Cultural genocide. Wars, twentieth century decolonisation.
Economic, political. Counter to Keynesian economics that had led to stagnation of economies. Reformed UN State-base extended to include non-State actors. Hierarchical structure. Decisions by “world citizens” yet States remain dominant in a global governance system. Coercive, economic and institutional power.
Interconnected systems. Dominator societies.
Neoliberalism. Epistemology of positivist scientific thinking. Globalisation as economic agent. Linear time. Consumption; nature as commodity; progress is industrialism; materialism; competition; growth; we have the tools to fix the problems. The world is a machine. “Survival of the fittest.”
Ubuntuism. Epistemology of many ways of knowing. Globalisation as unity of the world’s people. Sync time. Self-determination; solidarity; non-violence; equality; indigenous knowledges; love of nature; progress is peace; unity of the human family; recognition of 2000 nations. The world is a village. Symbiosis. “One World.”
Reformed UN Symbiosis of nations. Heterarchy structure. Democratic; egalitarian; power sharing. Decentralised authority to the local level articulating to regional governance. Power is in moral authority.
Table 13.1. Assertive Multilateralism, UNPO Preferred Models of Globalisation and Global Governance.37
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The Indian Ocean States and Territories The period to 2030 is expected to be a time of transformation globally and throughout the region. An analysis of the strategic issues undertaken in Western Australia identifies seven key areas as significant influences on the region’s future: “the interrelations between the region’s three major powers, China, India and the United States; competition for influence and resources; failed and failing states; piracy; population growth and migration; increasing militarisation; and proliferation of militant Islamist movements.”38 The potential conflicts, the monetary value of the Indian Ocean littoral states as their populations grow and prosper, multiple ethnoreligious tensions, and the challenges of climate change are discussed elsewhere in this publication. It is clear we need to take the advice of Berry, Eisler and Polak39 in co-creating new stories and positive images to shape our regional future. Using a similar approach to the comparative analysis presented in Table 13.1 above, I will now analyse some of the current discourses of the Indian Ocean and expose the underlying myths that can provide the foundation of stories of alternative futures.
Myths and Legends of the Indian Ocean Region There are many myths, legends and stories about the Indian Ocean told by those who live on its shores. For the purposes of exploring alternative futures for the region, I have reimagined two ancient myths from China and India, nations that analysts believe to be key influencers of the region’s future.40 I have also included the Western myth of “survival of the fittest” to reflect the increasing strength of the political, military and security discourses that, alongside the industrial and economic exploitation discourses, are dominating social, cultural and ecological considerations. The Churning of the Milky Ocean is a well-known creation myth in Asia that originates from India’s ancient Hindu mythology as related in the Mahabharata. Whilst the Chinese myths of The Dragon King and water dragons are not specifically about the Indian Ocean the knowledge and wisdom embedded in these myths have much to teach us. As Abhyankar writes: The time has come to perform the Amritmanthan (symbolic churning of the Milky Ocean of knowledge) once again to recover gems of knowledge from the ancient texts.41
In Indian mythology, The Churning of the Milky Ocean is a story of rivalry between gods and demons for the control of destiny played out in
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the Indian Ocean. The gods alone were not powerful enough to churn the ocean to secure the treasures they needed to defeat the demons and become immortal, so they enlisted the demons help in exchange for the promise of a share of the wealth that would arise from the ocean depths. The Churning produced many valuable items including the elixir of eternal life, the poison of the cobras, Lakshmi goddess of wealth, and the tree of knowledge. However, Vishnu the all-powerful tricked the demons and shared the elixir only with the gods, ensuring their immortality.42 Current international interests in the Indian Ocean region appear to be twofold: a desire for a modern-day Churning of the Milky Ocean to generate economic wealth from exploiting the developing nations; and the perceived security issues that might arise from competition for natural resources as populations grow and climate change impacts the water, food and energy nexus. I have summarised these two interests as Current Stories in Table 13.2 below. In Chinese mythology the ancient myth and worship of The Dragon Kings appears to have persisted throughout the twentieth century despite attempts at secular reform.43 Originally deities and guardians of Buddhist teachings, in Chinese cosmology they are also the deities and guardians of water and rulers of water-related weather events.44 Each of the four Dragon Kings rules a sea to the North, South, East and West; the latter includes the Indian Ocean. Ao Run is the Dragon King of the West Sea and rides blue water dragons. Water Dragons can accept defeat, get along with all people, and possess the knowledge required to rebuild. I have used this myth to underpin a proposed future story in Table 13.2 where sociocultural interests dominate, the collectivist worldview of the African philosophy of Ubuntuism speaks to a redistribution and sharing of resources that are sustainably managed throughout the region, cultural diplomacy builds harmonious relationships, and the success of this approach is measured by progress made without economic growth and reduction in the income gap between rich and poor. In this story, changes in taxation policies would encourage accountability through a quadruple bottom line measurement system of impacts on social, environmental, economic and future generations.
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CLA
Current Story
Current Story
Future Story
The Litany Measures of Progress
Potential conflicts over water, food, energy, ocean. Ethno-religious tensions. Piracy. Risk ratings.
Population growth statistics. Region valued for economic growth potential. GDP.
Indian Ocean Region valued for non-violent progress without economic growth. Quadruple bottom line.
The System
Political. Control of borders and designated areas of ocean.
Economic. Natural resources extraction and shipping.
Socio-cultural. Redistribution of wealth.
Worldview and Discourses
Military. Are we under threat from the other? Security, increasing personnel and presence.
Exploitation. Profit making comes first; we need to recover from the GFC. Industrial. Colonial.
Ubuntuism. Interconnectedness of humanity; valuing of differences. Cultural exchanges and diplomacy. Multifaith and intercultural dialogues.
Metaphor and Myth
Metaphor: The ocean is a battlefield. Western Myth: Survival of the fittest.
Metaphor: The ocean is a treasure trove. Indian Myth: The Churning of the Milky Ocean.
Metaphor: The ocean is a harp waiting to be played in an orchestra of regional harmony. Chinese Myth: The Dragon King of the West Sea.
Table 13.2. Indian Ocean regional futures: a layered analysis.
Futures Generation for Future Generations: Here be Dragons Both current stories relate to the Assertive Multilateralism model provided in Table 13.1 as neoliberal views of the ocean rooted in political and economic considerations of interest to the dominant countries in international affairs. The central interests of this book of regional security,
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culture and sustainability would appear to be well served if policy options guided by the third column, the Future Story, are embraced. Here I propose the adoption of the African spirit of Ubuntu, extensive engagement in intercultural dialogue and cultural exchanges, and the creation of language to support the metaphor of the ocean as a harp waiting to be played harmoniously by all who live around it. The future Churning can be reimagined, as Abhyankar has said, to produce knowledge, wisdom and new ideas.45 We can learn too from the Chinese myth of the Dragon King of the West Sea and the Blue Dragons that get along with all people. The policy story can be communicated in engaging ways using transmedia storytelling.
Transmedia Storytelling Other forms of cultural expression that generate images and tell our stories include art, music, dance, and film. Generally these stories are less influenced by third party commercial interests and reflect contemporary culture and perspectives. Films such as Avatar and the Harry Potter series, for example, show that two realities can co-exist with most people in each reality being unaware of the other. These films provide a rich source of metaphors for Australia and its position on the Indian Ocean rim: a wealthy nation state close to countries suffering chronic poverty and conflicting ethnic and religious identities, with precarious political systems. How aware are Australians of this other reality? Both of these well-known films are part of transmedia storytelling universes and are influencing young people’s perceptions and actions towards environmental and social issues.46 Transmedia storytelling has emerged as a new form of storytelling that enables the core narrative to be told through different forms of media such as animation, user generated interactive fiction, films, comics, shorts and games. Like the CLA method used in this chapter, it delves deeply into the mythical aspects of the narrative with multiple stories being produced from the story world and story universes being created from multiple story worlds.47 The original storyline may be determined by a visionary, who has a leading role in the transmedia storytelling production team, but as more users engage with the story through interactive narratives, augmented reality games, digital media and other forms of communication these users can make choices and influence the final outcome of stories.48 Digital storytelling has been identified as a means for young people to construct their identities and reimagine their futures whilst providing a new performative social space.49 The approach could be used to entertain
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whilst young people learn about issues affecting Indian Ocean regional futures, co-create visionary stories of alternative futures for the region, and catalyse societal transformation through practical, local projects. Von Stackelberg and Jones provide an example of young people engaging in this way: The Harry Potter Alliance (www.thehpalliance.org), built on the storyworld created in J.K. Rowling’s bestselling Harry Potter books, used live streaming to play a new genre of music called “Wizard Rock,” posted action alerts on MySpace, and developed fan sites and other media to create and move a community to action. In partnership with nongovernment organisations, the Alliance acts as a catalyst for social action on issues like climate change, poverty, genocide, and human rights.50
In the Harry Potter storyworld users join one of the Hogwarts Houses, assuming an identity, relating with other characters, and effectively becoming one of the “tribe.”51 A possibility for the Indian Ocean Future Story outlined in Table 13.2 could be a story about dragons. The blue dragon-like creatures in Avatar could become the central characters in an animation production for younger children. For adults a Dragon King film might focus on the King’s story underpinned by a theme of intercultural dialogue that works through conflict to achieve lasting peace. Young adults might engage in an interactive computer game that enables them to make choices that affect the long-term future of the natural environment, and so forth. Creativity with this level of depth can stimulate wide popular debate whilst delivering educational and societal change outcomes.
Cultural Path to a Planetary Civilization For much of recorded history societies evolved in relative isolation from one another. Language and symbolic representation developed with culture and social organisation as the most efficient means to ensure common understanding between members of the same family or society.52 The shared norms, values and knowledge needed to survive were handed down from generation to generation, in symbolic cave paintings, then orally by means of myths in the stories told to children and shared between adults, and then in written form as history.53 As our means of social organising grew in complexity from nomadic clans, to village settlements, cities, states, nations and civilisations, we assumed additional layers of identity and new allegiances. Language, culture, social organising, technology and story co-evolved to make us who and what we are today:
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Homo Narrans, the storytelling ape.54 Societal evolution has not been the smooth linear or expansionist path implied by much of the literature. Our present is the product of many societal descents and emergences, regress and progress, environmental catastrophes, wars and legends of courage and exploration, millennia of peace and astounding works of art.55 Paths to a possible Planetary Civilisation and an Indian Ocean regional presence in international affairs are likely to be equally eventful. Nonetheless the literature suggests that the next stage of social organisation will involve human societies converging in a new form of globalisation, informed by a planetary consciousness with an innate planetary identity.56 This convergence will play out during the twenty-first century preceded by images and stories of different futures. Like Ervin Laszlo I believe the cultural path to a Planetary Civilisation is our best option for peaceful transition, particularly in the diverse Indian Ocean region. My work with governments, universities and NGOs in the region facilitates intercultural dialogue and the co-creating of multiple images and stories of futures in many domains of interest. Images of futures in the form of visionary stories represent knowledge generated about alternative futures that can be communicated to all people shaping popular perceptions of the future and encouraging positive social activism. However, as von Stackelberg and Jones discovered, “foresight professionals wield less influence than science fiction writers when it comes to shaping those perceptions… the disproportionate influence of science fiction is a testament to the power of storytelling.”57 Transmedia storytelling is emerging as an entertaining, participative and action oriented platform for young people in particular to explore their world. In my view, it is an ideal form of cultural expression for the co-creation of a desirable, sustainable and peaceful regional future. As the saying goes – the shortest distance between two people is a story.
Notes 1
Laszlo, E. 2001. Macroshift: Navigating the Transformation to a Sustainable World. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 152. 2 Polak, F. 1973. The Image of the Future. Amsterdam: Elsevier Scientific Publishing Company. 3 Raskin, P and T Banuri, G Gallopin, A Hammond, R Swart, R Kates and P Gutman. 2002. “Great Transition: The Promise and Lure of the Times Ahead.” Tellus Institute and Stockholm Environment Centre. Accessed April 12, 2008. www.tellus.org/tellus/publication/great-transition-the-promise-and-lure-of-thetime-ahead.
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Mickunas, A. 1997. “An Introduction to the Philosophy of Jean Gebser.” Integrative Explorations, Journal of Culture and Consciousness, the Journal of the Jean Gebser Society 4 (1):8-21. 5 Eisler, R. 2008. The Real Wealth of Nations: Creating a Caring Economics. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers Inc, 187. 6 Armstrong, K. 2005. A Short History of Myth. Melbourne: The Text Publishing Company. Also see Bettelheim, B. 1976. The Uses of Enchantment. London: Penguin Books. Also see Bruner, J, 1986. Actual Minds Possible Worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard College. Also see Campbell, J, and B Moyers. 1988. The Power of Myth. New York: Anchor Books. Also see Eisler, R. 1995. The Chalice and the Blade. New York: Harper Collins. Also see Hsu, J, 2008. “The Secrets of Storytelling.” Scientific American Mind 19 (4):46-51. Also see Inayatullah, S. 2004. “Causal Layered Analysis: Theory, Historical Context and Case Studies.” In The Causal Layered Analysis Reader, edited by Sohail Inayatullah. Taipei: Tamkang University. Also see Kelleher, A. 2012. “Transforming Global Governance: Contesting Images of the Future from People on the Edge of the Periphery.” PhD diss., University of the Sunshine Coast. Also see KohlerReissman, C. 2008. Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publishing. Also see Martin, JL. 2008. “Imagining New Futures: The Simple Power of Story.” Journal of Futures Studies 13 (1):113-123. Also see Snowden, DJ. 2004. “Narrative Patterns: the Perils and Possibilities of Using Story in Organisations.” Creating Value with Knowledge, edited by E. Lesser and L. Prusak. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Also see Snowden, DJ. 2008. “Now, Everything is Fragmented.” Knowledge Management 17 (5):np. www.kmworld.com/Articles/News/News-Analysis/Now-everything-isfragmented-48949.aspx. Accessed April 14, 2010. Also see Yoffee, N. 2005. Myths of the Archaic State: Evolution of the Earth’s Cities, States and Civilisations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 7 BrunerActual Minds Possible Worlds, 7. 8 Hsu, “The Secrets of Storytelling”. 9 Campbell, J, 1991. Primitive Mythology: the Masks of God. New York: The Penguin Group. Also see Campbell, J, 2003. Myths of Light: Eastern Metaphors of the Eternal. Novato: New World Library. Also see Hsu, “The Secrets of Storytelling”. 10 United Nations, 2015. “Transforming Our World – the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development.” Accessed October 5, 2015. https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/topics. 11 Laszlo, E. 2006. “Paths to Planetary Civilisation.” Kosmos 5 (2):12-15. 12 Berry, T. 1999. The Great Work: Our Way into the Future. New York: Bell Tower. Also see Laszlo, “Paths to Planetary Civilisation”. Also see Stern, N. 2007. The Economics of Climate Change: The Stern Review. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 13 Milojevic, I and Inayatullah, S. 2015. “Narrative Foresight.” Futures (forthcoming) D-15-00024, Elsevier.
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14 Kincheloe, JL and PL McLaren. 2000. “Rethinking Critical Theory and Qualitative Research.” In Handbook of Qualitative Research, edited by N. K. Denzin and Y. S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks: Sage. 15 Flick, U. 2009. An Introduction to Qualitative Research. 4th Ed. London: Sage Publications Ltd, 340. 16 Ibid. 17 Inayatullah, S. ed 2004b. The Causal Layered Analysis Reader. Taipei: Tamkang University Press. Also see Inayatullah, S, and I Milojevic eds. 2015. CLA 2.0: Transformative Research in Theory and Practice. Taipei: Tamkang University Press. 18 Ames, RT. 1991. Meaning as Imaging: Prolegemena to a Confucian Epistemology. In Culture and Modernity: East-West Philosophic Perspectives, edited by E. Deutsch. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 231. 19 Inayatullah, S. 2004. “Causal Layered Analysis: Theory, Historical Context and Case Studies.” In The Causal Layered Analysis Reader, ed. Sohail Inayatullah. Taipei: Tamkang University, 541. 20 Ibid, 13. 21 Inayatullah, S, and I Milojevic eds. 2015. CLA 2.0: Transformative Research in Theory and Practice. Taipei: Tamkang University Press. 22 Laszlo, “Paths to Planetary Civilisation”. 23 Vedaprajinananda, A. 2006. “Neohumanism, Globalisation and World Futures.” In Neohumanist Educational Futures: Liberating the Pedagogical Intellect, edited by S. Inayatullah, M. Bussey and I. Milojevic. Taipei: Tamkang University Press in association with Gurukula Press and Metafuture.org, 34. 24 Applebaum, P, and W Robinson eds. 2005. Critical Globalisation Studies. New York: Routledge. Also see Connor, S. 2008. “Did Life Begin with a Meteorite?” The Independent, June 18. Also see Gidley, J. 2007. “The Evolution of Consciousness as a Planetary Imperative: An Integration of Integral Views.” Integral Review 5. Also see Kelleher, A. 2012. “Transforming Global Governance: Contesting Images of the Future from People on the Edge of the Periphery.” PhD diss., University of the Sunshine Coast, Australia. Also see Kohn, M. 2006. “Made in Savannah.” New Scientist (2558):34-39. Also see Steffen, W., J. Grinevald, P. Crutzen and J. McNeill. 2011. “The Anthropocene: Conceptual and Historical Perspectives.” In Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society. http://rsta.royalsocietypublishing.org. Accessed January 20, 2012. 25 Sen, A., 2006. Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny. London: Penguin Allen Lane, 126. 26 Applebaum, P, and W Robinson eds. 2005. Critical Globalisation Studies. New York: Routledge. Also see De Sousa Santos, B. 2007. Another Knowledge is Possible: Beyond Northern Epistemologies. London: Verso. Also see Held, D., McGrew, A. and J. Perraton. 1999. Global Transformations: Politics, Economics and Culture. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Also see Koenig-Archibugi, M. 2003. "Introduction: Globalisation and the Challenge to Governance." In Taming Globalisation: Frontiers of Governance, edited by D. Held and M. KoenigArchibugi. Cambridge: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Also see Steans, J. 2003.
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"Gender Inequalities and Feminist Politics in a Global Perspective." In Globalisation: Theory and Practice, edited by E. Kofman and G. Youngs. London: Continuum. 27 Friedman, T. L. 2005. The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux 28 Ibid, 10. 29 De Sousa Santos, B. 2003. “The World Social Forum: Toward a CounterHegemonic Globalisation (Part 1).” In XXIV International Congress of the Latin American Studies Association. Dallas. Also see United Nations, 2015. “Transforming Our World – the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development.” Accessed October 5, 2015. https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/topics. 30 De Sousa Santos, B. 2007. Another Knowledge is Possible: Beyond Northern Epistemologies. London: Verso. 31 Applebaum, P., and W. Robinson eds. 2005. Critical Globalisation Studies. New York: Routledge. 32 Sykes-Kelleher, A. 2015b. “Transforming Global Governance.” In CLA 2.0: Transformative Research in Theory and Practice, eds S Inayatullah and I Milojevic. Taipei: Tamkang University Press. 33 Kelleher, A. 2012. “Transforming Global Governance: Contesting Images of the Future from People on the Edge of the Periphery.” PhD diss., University of the Sunshine Coast. 34 Ibid. 35 Kelleher, A. 2012. “Transforming Global Governance: Contesting Images of the Future from People on the Edge of the Periphery.” PhD diss., University of the Sunshine Coast, Australia 36 Ibid. 37 Sykes-Kelleher, A. 2015. “Transforming Global Governance: Images of Futures from People on the Periphery.” Foresight 17 (2):117. 38 Luke, L and T Luttrell. 2012. Indian Ocean: A Sea of Uncertainty. Perth: Future Directions International. 39 Berry, The Great Work: Our Way into the Future. See Eisler, The Real Wealth of Nations: Creating a Caring Economics. Also see Polak, The Image of the Future. 40 Mohan, CR. 2014. “Samura Manthan: Sino-Indian Rivalry in the Indo-Pacific.” Australian Journal of Maritime and Ocean Affairs 6 (2):111-115. 41 Abhyankar, R, 2015. “Psychiatric Thoughts in Ancient India.” Mens Sana Monographs 13 (1): 67. 42 Australian Museum. 2011. “Milky Ocean Creation Story: How Gods Defeated Demons.” Accessed April 22, 2015. http://australianmuseum.net.au/milky-oceancreation-story. Also see Sykes, E, revised by A Kendall. 2002. Who’s Who in NonClassical Mythology. Abingdon: Routledge, 52, 113, 153, 207. 43 Courtney, C. 2015. “The Dragon King and the 1931 Wuhan Flood: Religious Rumors and Environmental Disasters in Republican China.” Journal of TwentiethCentury China 40 (2):83-104. http://www.maneyonline.com/doi/abs/10.1179/1521538515Z.00000000059. 44 Zhao, Q. 1992. A Study of Dragons, East and West. New York: Peter Lang.
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45 Abhyankar, R, 2015. “Psychiatric Thoughts in Ancient India.” Mens Sana Monographs 13 (1): 59-69. 46 Kelly, P. 2015. “Avatar: Higher Education and Sustainability.” In CLA 2.0: Transformative Research in Theory and Practice, eds S Inayatullah and I Milojevic. Taipei: Tamkang University Press. Also see Von Stackelberg, P and R E Jones. 2014. “Tales of Our Tomorrows: Transmedia Storytelling and Communicating About the Future.” Journal of Futures Studies 18 (3):57-76. 47 Gomez, J. 2013 and 2014. Transmedia Storytelling MasterClass. Personal conversation with Anita Sykes-Kelleher. 48 Ibid. 49 Murakami, Kyoko, 2008. “Re-Imaging the Future: Young People’s Construction of Identities Through Digital Storytelling.” Beyond Current Horizons. Accessed October 7, 2015. http://www.beyondcurrenthorizons.org.uk/re-imagining-thefuture-youngpeoples-construction-of- identities-through-digital-storytelling/. 50 Von Stackelberg, P and R E Jones. 2014. “Tales of Our Tomorrows: Transmedia Storytelling and Communicating About the Future.” Journal of Futures Studies 18 (3): 60. 51 Ibid. 52 Rose, S. 2005. The 21st Century Brain: Explaining, Mending and Manipulating the Mind. London: Vintage Books. 53 Armstrong, K. 2005. A Short History of Myth. Melbourne: The Text Publishing Company. Also see Campbell, J, 1991. Primitive Mythology: the Masks of God. New York: The Penguin Group. Also see Cocks, D, 2003. Deep Futures: Our Prospects for Survival. Sydney: UNSW Press. Also see Wallerstein, I. 2004. World Systems Analysis: An Introduction. Durham and London: Duke University Press. 54 Snowden, D. J. 2008. “Now, Everything is Fragmented.” Knowledge Management 17 (5):np. www.kmworld.com/Articles/News/News-Analysis/Noweverything-is-fragmented-48949.aspx. Accessed April 14, 2010. 55 Kelleher, “Transforming Global Governance: Contesting Images of the Future from People on the Edge of the Periphery”. 56 Ibid. 57 Von Stackelberg and Jones, “Tales of Our Tomorrows: Transmedia Storytelling and Communicating About the Future,” 58.
CONTRIBUTORS
Editors Thor Kerr is a Lecturer in the Department of Communication and Cultural Studies in Curtin University’s School of Media, Culture and Creative Arts. His research focusses on media and public representation in negotiations of urban space, particularly in relation to green built environments and Aboriginal heritage. Dr Kerr’s latest book, To the Beach (2015), examines public controversy and policy making around ‘sustainable’ coastal property development. His previous book, coauthored with Dr Shaphan Cox, examines media production criminalizing Aboriginal activists. Setting up the Nyoongar Tent Embassy: a Report on Perth Media, investigates the systemic shaping of popular news reports, suggesting that Aboriginal people threaten public order in the city. Dr Kerr has made scholarly contributions to Somatechnics, Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, International Journal of Heritage Studies, Spaces and Flows: An International Journal of Urban and ExtraUrban Studies and Borderlands e-journal. He is a Member of the Australia-AsiaPacific Institute, a co-founder of FuturArc magazine and founding editor of BCI Asia’s Architecture@ almanac of imminent transformative buildings. He spent a decade directing the development of architectural media services for markets on the Indian Ocean’s eastern rim. His articles have been published in The Jakarta Post¸ The Conversation, The Times, Law Institute Journal, The Age and Sydney Morning Herald. John Stephens is a professor who teaches and researches in the School of Built Environment at Curtin University. His major research interests include architectural history, culture and place making with specific focus on war commemoration and cultural heritage. John has published extensively. His publications include “‘Fifty-two doors’: identifying cultural significance through narrative and nostalgia in Lakhnu village” in the International Journal of Heritage Studies, which offers an alternative way of assessing the significance of heritage places, and "Sacred Landscapes: Albany and Anzac Pilgrimage" in Landscape Research, which examines a how a small Western Australian town is attempting to embed itself into the national meta-narrative of Anzac. More recently he has
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published “Concepts of Sacrifice and Trauma in Australian War Commemoration” in Landscape Review and a book co-authored with Graham Seal Remembering the Wars: Commemoration in Western Australian Communities published by Black Swan Press. He is a member of the Australia Asia Pacific Institute at Curtin University and chair of the Institute’s Global Heritage Futures stream. John is very active in state heritage matters and is a councillor of the National Trust of Australia (WA) and the Heritage Council of Western Australia – both statutory appointments.
Authors (by order of appearance) Timothy Doyle is a professor at Adelaide, Curtin and Keele Universities. He is Immediate-Past-Chair of the Indian Ocean Rim Academic Group based in Ebene, Mauritius, and has been appointed as a Distinguished Research Fellow in the Australia-Asia-Pacific Institute at Curtin University. He also serves as the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFAT) academic Focal Point for the Indian Ocean Rim. His core interests are in the areas of Indian Ocean Studies, global political economy, politics and international relations of the environment, social and political movements, and political fiction. Professor Doyle has taught and contributed to university courses in the United Kingdom, the United States, Malaysia, India and Australia. He is Editor-in-Chief of the new international Journal of the Indian Ocean Region and serves on the editorial boards of the international journals Social Movement Studies and Global Faultlines. Mark Fielding has taught in government and private secondary schools in both city and country for thirty years. Dr Fielding has a passion for helping students learn how to be informed global citizens, which inspired his doctoral research on the internationalisation of education in Australian schooling. He currently teaches in the Graduate School of Education at the University of Western Australia and is Director of Global Programs at St Stephen’s School where his focus is on developing St Stephen’s Global into an enabler for international understanding and educational opportunity in the region of the Indian Ocean. Ali Mozaffari is a Research Fellow at the Alfred Deakin Institute within the Faculty of Arts and Education, Deakin University and Adjunct Research Fellow with Australia Asia Pacific Institute, Curtin University. Dr Mozaffari obtained his Master of Architecture from Tehran University and his PhD from the University of Western Australia, working across the
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fields of architecture, anthropology and heritage studies. His current research projects include heritage movements in Asia and the world heritage site of Pasargadae, where he is also introducing a digital humanities aspect to the research. Mozaffari's recent publications include Forming National Identity in Iran: The Idea of Homeland Derived from Ancient Persian and Islamic Imaginations of Place (I.B. Tauris 2014) and 'Islamism and Iran's Islamic Period Museum' in International Journal of Heritage Studies (19:3, 2013). Layli Rakhsha is a PhD candidate at Curtin University. Her research focusses on the cultural influence of the Iranian diaspora on Australian contemporary art. Rakhsha investigates how the idea of home is embedded in Iranian diasporic art in Australia with theory based on Avtar Brah’s idea of diaspora and home. Rakhsha’s art project is based on exploring the idea of home in photography and printmaking of both Australian landscape and domestic places. She exhibits in Australia and Iran, her birthplace. Rakhsha’s papers include ‘The silent dialogue: an exploration and creative experience of printmaking’ in ACUADS Conference, University of New South Wales (2013), ‘A journey toward home’ in Migration, Memory and Place Conference, University of Copenhagen (2012) and ‘Visual expression: Persian calligraphy in contemporary art’ in Subjectivity, Creativity and the Institution Conference, Curtin University (2009). Laura Stocker researches and teaches in the area of coastal sustainability, regional sustainability, climate change policy, sustainability education, participatory mapping and cultural models of the coast. Associate Professor Stocker’s conceptual work focuses on interactions among social, cultural, ecological and economic domains. Her PhD research at the University of Sydney in the 1980s was on the ecology of sub-tidal marine invertebrates. She was employed at Murdoch University in 1989 where she shortly established Australia’s first course in sustainability. In 2008 she was employed by Curtin University, along with several other colleagues to form the new Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute. Here she coordinates the Masters course in Sustainability and Climate Policy. From 2009-2013 she was deputy leader of a nationwide project, the Coastal Collaboration Cluster, researching the uptake of climate change knowledge into coastal governance. She is a founding member of the Ocean Sciences Council of Australia.
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Jenny Shaw is a Phd Candidate at the Curtin University Sustainable Policy Institute. Jenny has worked in fisheries and marine related areas in Western Australia and abroad for over 30 years in both government and private sectors. She has held senior roles in fisheries policy, management and research. Most recently she has been investigating understanding and knowledge development in coastal fishing communities around Australia in relation to climate change and adaptation. Gary Burke is a lecturer at Curtin University Sustainability Policy Institute. Dr Burke studied economics at the University of Western Australia, then science and technology policy at Murdoch University. His PhD, ‘Making Viability Sustainable’ described the need for a sustainability-informed approach to economics in which sustainability parameters, principles and processes provide the framework in which economic policy is formulated. His thesis demonstrated that a robust sustainability-informed cultural narrative was integral to effective implementation of economic policy. He has previously worked as a multimedia consultant, specialising in the dissemination of innovative ideas, and he was a professional musician for many years. Svetla Petrova is a lecturer at Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute. She holds a Master degree in Sociology from Sofia University, Bulgaria and a PhD awarded by Curtin University. Dr Petrova’s professional experience and research interests are in the area of social sustainability, including collaborative and deliberative methodologies for community and stakeholder engagement, planning and decision-making. Bob Pokrant is Adjunct Professor of Anthropology in the Department of Social Sciences and International Studies at Curtin. He has researched in Bangladesh and India for 20 years and his major research interests are aquaculture and fisheries, climate change and development, and community adaptation to climate change. He has published widely. Recent publications include Mokhlesur Rahman and Pokrant’s ‘Changing local weather and adaptation in two coastal villages in Bangladesh’ in the Journal of the Indian Ocean Region (2015), ‘Brackish water shrimp farming and the growth of aquatic monocultures in coastal Bangladesh’ in Historical perspectives of fisheries exploitation in the Indo-Pacific, edited by Joseph Christensen and Malcolm Tull (Springer, 2014); and ‘Reflections on working with communities and community-based projects in Bangladesh’ by Rahman, Mokhlesur and Bob Pokrant in M² Models and
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Methodologies for Community Engagement, edited by Reena Tiwari, Marina Lommerse and Dianne Smith (Springer, 2014). Zafu Teferi is a town planner and a PhD student at Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute, where his research explores informal settlements and how they can become better places to live. He has worked in the public sector for a range of high growth regional and local authorities for a decade. During this time, he led and managed large multidisciplinary teams across a range of programs including development assessment and environmental planning. Peter Newman is the Professor of Sustainability at CUSP, Curtin University. He has written 16 books and over 300 papers. His books include ‘The End of Automobile Dependence’ (2015), ‘Green Urbanism in Asia’ (2013) and 'Sustainability and Cities: Overcoming Automobile Dependence' which was launched in the White House in 1999. Peter was a Fulbright Senior Scholar at the University of Virginia Charlottesville and was on the IPCC for their 5th Assessment Report. In 2014 he was awarded an Order of Australia for his contributions to urban design and sustainable transport. He is a Fellow of the Academy of Technological and Engineering Sciences Australia. Peter has worked in local government as an elected councillor, in state government as an advisor to three Premiers and in the Australian Government on the Board of Infrastructure Australia. Anne Matan is a researcher and lecturer at CUSP Institute at Curtin University, Western Australia. Dr Matan is interested in creating sustainable, vibrant and people-focused urban places. She has a background in urban geography and sustainable transport and a PhD in sustainable development, 2011. Her research is on active transport, particularly walking and cycling, pedestrian planning and urban design, focusing on how people interact with the built environment. She is an honorary sustainability advisor for Bicycling Western Australia. Her publications include Green Urbanism in Asia (2013) with Peter Newman, ‘Urban Transport and Sustainable Development,’ (forthcoming with Peter Newman and James McIntosh, Routledge International Handbook of Sustainable Development), and ‘Human Health and Human Mobility’ (2012 in Current Opinion in Environmental Sustainability, with Peter Newman). Mahmood (Pitu) Hasan Khan is pursuing a PhD in Sustainability Accounting at Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute
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with a research topic on ‘Traditional Sustainability Accounting Principles and Practices in Rural Bangladesh’. The thesis builds on the traditional lifestyle experiences and the teachings of Baul philosophers. It emphasises the social, cultural and environmental importance of sustainability accounting. Pitu holds a Bachelor of Commerce with Honours and Master of Commerce from the Department of Finance and Banking at the University of Rajshahi, Bangladesh. After migrating to Western Australia, he completed a Master of Professional Accounting degree at Edith Cowan University. Pitu’s research interests also include cost-benefit analysis of contemporary politics in Bangladesh and Australian economic issues. Amzad Hossain is an Adjunct Research Fellow at Curtin University. Dr Hossain is an action researcher and sustainability scholar whose interests cover simple lifestyle, appropriate technology, ecotourism and values relevant to social, technological and environmental sustainability. With more than 100 refereed publications and many presentations at prestigious international conferences, he divides his time, as researcher and activist, between Australia and Bangladesh. Dora Marinova is Professor of Sustainability and Director of the Curtin University Sustainability Policy (CUSP) Institute. She has more than 400 publications and has supervised to successful completion 45 PhD students. Her research interests cover innovation models, self-reliance and the newly emerging area of sustainometrics related to the modelling and measuring of sustainability. David Brewster is a Senior Research Fellow with the National Security College at the Australian National University, where he specializes in Indo Pacific maritime security and South Asian and Indian Ocean strategic affairs. Dr Brewster is also a Distinguished Research Fellow with the Australia India Institute and a Fellow with the Royal Australian Navy Sea Power Centre. Dr Brewster is the author of many articles exploring maritime security issues in the Indian Ocean as well as India’s security relationships throughout the region. Major reports and books include India as an Asia Pacific power, The India-Australia Security Engagement: Challenges and Opportunities and India’s Ocean: The Story of India’s Bid for Regional Leadership. Asif Siddiqui has two decades of experience with NGOs, academia, thinktanks and corporations. He specialises in corporate sustainability, sustainable development and policy. He graduated with honours in
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economics from Delhi University and obtained an MSS from National University of Singapore and an MBA from Murdoch University. From an early career with NGOs including an environmental economist role at the IUCN’s Global Green Accounting Initiative, he went on to lecture in economics at Nanyang Technological University and Sydney University. He obtained a Ford Foundation Fellowship to conduct policy research at the Institute of South East Asian Studies and a LKY School of Public Policy research fellowship to conduct research on economic governance and policy process in Singapore. He manages a consulting firm specialising in corporate sustainability reporting while pursuing doctoral research at the Curtin University Sustainability Policy Institute. Robyn Creagh is an architectural researcher and creative practitioner. Dr Creagh trained as an architect before undertaking a PhD in the history and theory of the built environment. Her research explores the relationship between mobility and sense of place in the urban realm. Dr Creagh is a Research Fellow in the Faculty of Humanities, Curtin University associated with the Centre for Sport and Recreation Research (CSRR). In this role she has collaborated with interdisciplinary researchers and industry partners to explore the relationship between building design and occupant movement. Dr Creagh has taught and supervised in the fields of architecture, planning, geography and art. Shaphan Cox is a human geographer in the Department of Planning and Geography at Curtin University. His research explores contestations of space and place through representation. Recent publications include the book Setting up the Nyoongar Tent Embassy co-authored with Dr Thor Kerr and the paper Negotiating the civic-heart of Fremantle: Past, present and critical perspectives of Kings Square. Patricia Ryder’s Aboriginality is derived from her matrilineal line. Her “connections to country” are the Murchison region and the Great Southern region of Western Australia. Her career began in Education over 20 years ago, however she has gathered multiple-disciplinary skills from various industries. The main focus of her career more recently has been in history/heritage and genealogy. Currently, she is working as a Family History Researcher at Yorgum Aboriginal Corporation. Ms Ryder is undertaking a history degree at Curtin University. Anita Sykes-Kelleher graduated in 2012 with a PhD from the Faculty of Arts and Business, University of the Sunshine Coast, Australia. Dr Sykes-
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Kelleher is a Co-Founder of the Centre for Australian Foresight and Chair of the Millennium Project Australia (Global Research and Futures Studies). She has over 20 years of experience in executive leadership development and transformational foresight.