Bridge over the Yarra River at Banyule
This article is based on a talk given at the symposium, Care for all that exists, held at the
Carmelite Centre, Middle Park, 26-28 May 2016.
Environmental crisis and response
The environmental crisis we experience, of which global warming
is the most conspicuous indicator, did not happen by accident. It is the
consequence of a particular view of the good life. This view is one in which
the natural world and its ecosystems are seen as having no intrinsic value. They
are reduced to a set of resources for human benefit alone. This view constitutes
the ruling ideology of the day.
However, at the same time, many people around the world are
trying to come to grips with the present crisis. We now have some large and
dynamic movements and some important initiatives. For example, many people are
trying to stop or limit the further development of fossil fuels, including coal
and coal seam gas. They are trying to practice energy conservation and the
development of renewables.
A deep conversion
All of these initiatives are vital. And it is important to situate
them in a clear and articulate view of the world and of the good life—a view
that calls for a different kind of engagement with one another and with the natural
world, one that challenges the ruling view radically. As Pope Francis puts it
in Laudato-si: ‘There needs to be a
distinctive way of looking at things, a way of thinking, policies, an
educational programme, a lifestyle and a spirituality…’
It is a task for all of us to help develop this distinctive way
of looking at things. It will be a view in which there is no longer a
domination over nature, or of some people over others. It is a radical view,
though not new, in which there are dynamic relationships between human society
and the natural world, and God.
As the encyclical notes: ‘(Nature) as a whole not only manifests
God but is also a locus of his presence. The Spirit of life dwells in every
living creature and calls us to enter into relationship with him. Discovering
this presence leads us to cultivate the ecological virtues.’
So in this view, when we engage with the world reflectively we
engage in a deeply spiritual activity. The ecological virtues involve our
relationships with one another in community and our relationship with the
natural world. We recognise all creation as filled with the divine presence—with
power and meaning.
We are called then to an ecological conversion, in which we take
a stance, and bear prophetic witness, calling for a new relationship among
people and with the land.
This conversion takes us on a journey, of a kind that differs
greatly from one person to another. Generally it will start from the local,
with a strong sense of the place we live in and all that is special to it. This
is where we are meant to be.
Food production on farms
To explore this conversion, I will start with one of the most
basic things, food production. For many people today the journey towards
sustainability involves growing food and producing what they need locally.
In Australia many farmers are practising conservation on land
devoted to crop or livestock production. They know it is important to retain
remnant trees, which are generally part of a remnant woodland ecosystem. Many
have also found ways of integrating native groundstorey species into their
farming, enhancing both biodiversity and farm productivity.
An interesting example on record is a family who have a sheep
and cattle property Lana on the
northern NSW tablelands. Following a drought they began a ‘holistic management’
approach. In each paddock they graze the stock intensively for a short period
and follow up with a long rest period, so that 95% of the property is rested at
any one time.
Consider some of the outcomes. The groundcover has improved and
with it the soil structure and carbon content. Native perennial grasses are
abundant. Water in rivers and dams is clean. Streamside vegetation is
recovering. Grazing-sensitive wildflowers are turning up again. Woodland birds,
for example the brown treecreeper and speckled warbler, that are declining in
some places, are present here.
One third of the property is forested hills. Trees are important
for stock shade. And the insect and bird life present there affects everything,
including pest control.
Following all this ecological work it is important to note: Their
business profitability has improved, while they are working with nature to
enhance their farm ecosystem’s productivity and biodiversity, and improving the
natural resource base.
And in cities
Similar things are happening in the cities and there is much
food production there. In Melbourne, for example, groups of people are
developing the most diverse and productive gardens in private yards or in
community plots.
I visited one food-growing project involving a network of about ten
young families in a Melbourne suburb. The gardens are full of dense, luxuriant
vegetation. Trees, shrubs, vegetables and flowers grow close together in ways
that mimic wild ecosystems. The trees include fruit trees, other exotics and
natives, such as Black Wattle and Drooping Sheoak that fix nitrogen in the
soil.
Most of the families have chickens. One has goats. All do
composting, with layers of scraps, grassy material and manure. Adults and
children work together.
As well as constituting a key to the good life, such activities
have wide environmental implications. If we produce more of what we need close
to where it is consumed, we reduce the need for long distance transportation,
while participation in local ecological or cultural activity also reduces the
need to travel and the consequent demand for fuels. We are shifting towards an
economy based on sustainable and equitable living.
Engagement with the land: planting indigenous species
As part of my own journey I have been involved with ‘Friends’
groups that work to restore elements of the indigenous ecology and protect
animal species through planting, weeding and systematic monitoring. Through
this work we discover a great deal about the land. Consider a couple of
examples.
One winter day members of Friends of French Island and Landcare
got together for their annual tree planting along the coast at Long Point,
French Island. It was a bright sunny day. I jotted down my impressions:
‘Warm, clear sky; low tide. The bay is a blue-grey mirror. Rocky
exposed sea floor with clumps of mangroves; grassy fields above. Many swallows
are wheeling. Did we stir up the insects? Goldfinches call. Cisticola and Flame
Robin show themselves. Many textures, shades of green in the planting field. The
workers are at home in this. Quiet voices, mutual aid, the way to
sustainability.’
Monitoring at Banyule Swamp
Monitoring of animal and plant species and of
ecosystems—observing changes and keeping records—is just as important as this
physical work.
I often go for walks along the Yarra River. One place I visit,
to observe and reflect, is Banyule Swamp, Heidelberg.
A long time ago the swamp was drained but in the 1990s the local
council restored it and Friends groups have replanted some of the indigenous
vegetation. The southern portion of the swamp consists of open water, with
patches of floating vegetation. There is a line of dead gum trees in the water
and some healthy mature red gum specimens on dry land. One March day I was
sitting on the east side of the swamp and I noted:
‘The swamp is full of water. It is mid afternoon. The sky has cleared.
There is a lush band of tussock-grasses and mat-rush between me and the water. Three
white ibises are perched in the big dead trees over the water, preening their
feathers. Two swans swim idly, separate. Then one speeds up, gliding gracefully
over to some floating vegetation and stops to feed there. It is quiet. The
breeze whispers. A few birds call. I can hear occasional shouts from a far
cricket oval. A wagtail alights on a branch of a young tree, then flits off
towards the water. If we like, we can learn from these creatures. They are in
no hurry to go anywhere—just here in the present, in our local place.’
On every visit the swamp is different. Well into the dry summer,
in late February, it had only a little water. I noted: ‘Five red-kneed
dotterels feed at the edge of the mud—a rare species in such an urban setting.
There are a few Latham’s snipe; most have left on their annual migration to
Japan. A great egret and a yellow-billed spoonbill sometimes perch in a dead
tree and then go foraging in the water—the egret slowly stalking, the spoonbill
swishing its bill from side to side.’
Truly we experience a wildness here—even in the midst of the
suburbs. There is something majestic, even primeval, about these creatures and
their movements—a sight that would have been witnessed again and again over the
millennia of human habitation.
Land systems
From my activities of revegetation and especially monitoring I
have become familiar with the patterns in the land. The landscape is structured.
It is everywhere different; its ecosystems were shaped by topography, the rock
types, the rainfall and the history of human management.
In exploring the spatial patterns in the landscape I have built
on the work of others. Beginning in 1953 the Soil Conservation Authority
initiated a series of land system
studies of various regions, generally coinciding with a river catchment. A land
system is an element in the landscape based on a particular pattern of topography,
rock, soils and vegetation.
These studies were directed towards soil conservation and land
use planning. However, we can put them to wider use. By throwing light on the
structure of the landscape, and the connections between the parts, the studies
enable us to understand and appreciate the land more deeply and so to develop
approaches to living sustainably on it.
The Yarra floodplain that contains Banyule Flats is an example
of a land system. It features deep, alluvial soils and a woodland dominated by
River Red Gum and Silver Wattle. The ground is grassy in places, with
tussock-grasses dominating. Elsewhere, there is thick shrubbery, especially of
tree violet and, along the bank, river bottlebrush.
The ecological matrix:
The land systems define the elements of the landscape. And these
are all interconnected. For example, they are linked up through the network of
rivers and creeks, or in hilly country through ridge lines, and also through the
vegetation along roadsides and railway reserves. Many of these links form
corridors rich in remnants of the original vegetation, retaining much of their
biodiversity.
The whole countryside is criss-crossed by such corridors. They make
possible the daily foraging and migratory movements of mammal and bird species.
The old trees are of special importance in these remnants. They provide a
protective environment for the small plants and for animals.
I will call this network of remnant indigenous ecosystems the
ecological matrix. It is the fount of biodiversity. It is also necessary for
human health; it is the matrix in which sustainable production can take place,
on farm, garden or factory.
Friends groups and Landcare have directed their efforts towards
enhancing and developing habitat corridors that link up separate major
conservation reserves. Such projects involve both protecting remnant vegetation
and planting trees to fill up the gaps in the corridor.
So rich sites like Banyule Flats are not isolated. They are
linked to many other sites through the Yarra River and its band of streamside
vegetation. If we follow the Yarra upstream the terrain varies and the river
flows through both gorges and floodplains. The vegetation corridor varies also,
with sparse woodland on farmland and rich forest in the parklands and water catchments.
Plenty River corridor
I hope to explore further the land systems around Melbourne.
Right now I have begun to explore the Plenty River from its junction with the
Yarra near Heidelberg to its source at Mount Disappointment.
As we travel north along the Plenty we pass through a number of
different land systems. In parts of its lower and middle reaches the Plenty is
bordered in places by River Red Gum, like the Yarra, and by Manna Gum in the
steeper parts.
On higher ground on the old Silurian sedimentary rock, away from
the river bank on the east side, the land system contains remnants of a Grassy
Dry Forest, dominated by Red Stringybark, Red Box, Long-leaved Box, and a whole
variety of shrubs, grasses and beautiful wildflowers.
However, it varies. On the same rocky bedrock plateau at Plenty
Gorge, north of Greensborough, we encounter a woodland of Yellow Gum. This
often flowers profusely in the autumn, attracting lots of lorikeets and
honeyeaters.
Further north along the river we pass through other land
systems. Eventually we come to the forested ranges at Mt Disappointment and in
Kinglake National Park. This was the scene of devastation in the 2009 bushfires
but the land is slowly recovering.
All these remnants of the original landscape are a great
treasure. They constitute the ecological matrix. A greater range of plant and
animal species once flourished. But the remnants contain the potential for
healing and recovery. This landscape is full of power and meaning, if we care
to encounter it and appreciate it. Every bit of it is worth exploring and
reflecting on.
Sustainable economy
I would like to consider now the economic implications of what I
have been saying. Some people regard the kind of sustainable farming and revegetation
activities I have just described as being marginal to the real economy. On the
contrary, I see them as central to our sustainability and well-being.
For our culture and economy to be sustainable all our productive
processes, all our urban planning and activity, must take place within the
limits of the ecological matrix, in harmony with the cycles of the ecosystems.
We have already seen, in the case of the farming family in
northern NSW, that a sustainable approach to farming brings economic as well as
ecological benefits.
Some people use the term ‘ecosystem services’ to describe the
economic benefits we obtain from natural ecosystems.
Forests are a good example. The economic value of a forest is
much more than the timber and fuel provided by its trees. It includes services
such as control of the climate through absorption of carbon dioxide, protection
of freshwater sources, and recreation. Our Mountain Ash forests have much
greater economic value when they are left standing to produce water resources
rather than cut down for wood products.
Wetlands are particularly diverse and productive ecosystems.
They mitigate floods. They do this by storing water, delaying and reducing peak
flows. They capture and cycle nutrients from upstream. They convert energy,
nutrients, water and gases into living biomass.
Wetlands store carbon. They develop rich ecosystems with a lot
of vegetation. They support a large amount of biodiversity, including fish and
flocks of waterbirds. Banyule Swamp is a fine example.
Wetlands benefit agriculture, for example through biological
pest control. The flocks of waterbirds, such as Ibis, consume great quantities
of insects.
The Dreaming
Engagement with the land will be at the core of our response to
the environmental crisis. In becoming familiar with the land, in its complex
diversity and connections, we are living out our conversion. At the same time,
we discover the way to live sustainability on the earth.
How do these insights into the land systems and the ecological matrix
relate to other ways of understanding the land? Let us consider first Aboriginal
culture and religion.
In Aboriginal culture the central concept is commonly expressed
as the Dreaming. As anthropologist Stanner explains, this has a complex of
meanings. A central meaning is that of a sacred, heroic time when people and
nature came to be as they are. However, we cannot fix the Dreaming in time; it is also, in a sense, still part of the
present. It is a narrative of things that once happened; a charter of things
that still happen and ‘a kind of logos
or principle of order transcending everything significant for Aboriginal man’.
It is tempting for people in the cities to regard the Dreaming
as something of the past, with relevance only for those Indigenous people who
are still living out their traditional culture. On the contrary, this is a
living tradition that has relevance and urgency far beyond these communities.
It brings an inspiration and a message for all of us—calling us to a sense of
Country in all its uniqueness. And the Dreaming, with its songlines, is surely
relevant to our own efforts to explore and define the patterns in the land—and
the ecological matrix.
Science and art
There have also been some important developments over the past
200 years of Western history where the Christian tradition and secular trends
overlap. The dominant materialist view that reduces nature to a set of
resources for human benefit is strident but it is by no means the only
tradition in the west. Let us explore some developments, especially in science
and the arts.
The great scientist Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859) was a key
figure. He is considered as the forerunner of Darwin, whom he inspired. He
recognised in nature an underlying unity informed by the laws governing the
universe; all aspects of the natural world are interrelated.
He argued that art and science were parallel and complementary
disciplines. In particular he proposed that a painter, like a scientist, should
be committed to the detailed and accurate observation of natural phenomena.
Also he urged landscape painters to go out from Europe and paint the landscapes
of the new world.
Eugene von Guerard was one who responded. His painting was based
on the close and scientifically informed observation of nature.
His picture (a lithograph), Track
over the Otway Ranges, looks out across a clearing in the forest of giant Mountain
Ash. In the foreground are graceful tree-ferns, and a man on horseback dwarfed
by the trees. The steep slopes below are covered with the dense forest, in
strong sunlight on one side of the ridge and in shadow on the other. In the
distance is the sea beneath a cloudy sky.
In this picture, along with the accurate detail, we gain a sense
of the timeless mystery of the land. Von Guerard was profoundly influenced by
the German Romantic painters. In the romantic perspective, through
contemplation of the landscape we can enter deeply into the cosmos and so find
God. Von Guerard saw no contradiction between the sublime aspect of his work
and the scientific documentary aspect.
In the words of Ruth Pullin, curator of the exhibition Nature revealed: ‘Von Guerard’s great
imaginative feat as an artist was to resolve the details of the natural world,
nature’s “diversity”, into the uplifting, sublime “unity” of his compositions.’
Nature writers
Poets and nature writers have also evoked the power and mystery
of the land. Among nature writers, one I am fond of is Jean Galbraith
(1906-1999), the botanist and gardener who lived in the Latrobe Valley. She was
self-taught while keeping in touch and comparing notes with some of the
prominent botanists in Victoria. She propagated native plants and encouraged
people to grow them in their gardens, and also took part in the conservation
struggles in Gippsland. She published a much-used book, Wildflowers of Victoria.
Jean once wrote a series of articles on wattles for the journal The Victorian Naturalist. The series
inspired other botanists to write for general readers. Consider, for example,
her simple description of the familiar Silver Wattle:
‘The spring raiment is wattle bloom, especially the bloom of
Silver Wattle, touching the stream-side trees with gold in July, cascading over
them in August and September, and in October reaching the mountain gullies
where the wattle grows into tall trees…
‘Silver Wattle belongs to the group with feathery or bipinnate
leaves… In blossom time the leaves are hidden by clouds of living gold… Every
golden ball is a cluster of minute yellow flowers, each with a halo of stamens
tipped with their sacs of pollen…
‘Silver Wattles are… 20, 30 or 40 feet in the lowlands but may
be 100 feet high in the mountain gullies.’
There are common threads that run through these various
reflections on the natural world. There are connections among the different
traditions: the Dreaming, the insights of scientists, artists and nature
writers, and the Judeo-Christian tradition. They all draw us into an ever
deeper relationship with the land.
The sustainable city
In the spirit of ecological conversion, we grow in familiarity
with the natural environment around us. We know that the Indigenous people
understood everything in Country in terms of the Dreaming and traced its
patterns in their songlines. So it is important now for many of us to become
more familiar with the ecological matrix with its corridors of biodiversity.
We need to re-connect and extend the corridors of biodiversity
throughout the countryside and to integrate the farms, towns and cities into
this matrix. I envisage a gentle overlapping, without definite boundaries,
between city and farm and bushland—an organic harmony between city and
countryside, between the natural and the built environment.
The outcome of all our efforts is not something we can predict.
Yet it is important to be constant in our stance, to bear witness, to
articulate the different ecological vision—in the hope that others may listen. We
must awaken a will to conserve the treasures of creation and heal the damage
done to it.
In our ecological conversion, the active, reflective and
mystical dimensions of our lives come together. As Pope Francis reminds us: ‘The
universe unfolds in God, who fills it completely. Hence, there is a mystical
meaning to be found in a leaf, in a mountain trail, in a dewdrop, in a poor
person’s face…’
Notes on sources
Food production on farms.
D. Norton & N. Reid, Nature and
farming (CSIRO Publishing, 2013, pp. 172-7).
Sustainable economy. Millennium
Ecosystem Assessment, Living beyond our
means: natural assets and human well-being (published on-line, 2005). D. Lindenmayer
et al., Mountain Ash, (CSIRO
Publishing, 2015). S. Wratten et al., Ecosystem
services in agricultural and urban landscapes (Wiley, 2013).
The Dreaming. W.E.H. Stanner, White man got no dreaming (ANU Press,
1979, pp. 23-24).
Science and art. Ruth
Pullin, Eugene von Guerard: nature
revealed (National Gallery of Victoria, 2011).
Nature writers. Jean Galbraith,
Silver Wattle: Acacia dealbata, Victorian
Naturalist 76:11 (1959).
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