Farmers' Sense of Place and Mental Wellbeing in an Era of Rapid Climate

Farmers’ sense of place and mental wellbeing in an era of rapid climate change: a case study in the Western Australian Wheatbelt

Neville Ellis, B. Psych (Hons)

This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Sustainability)

School of Management and Governance

Murdoch University

Perth, Western Australia

2016

Declaration

I declare that this thesis is my own account of my research and contains as its main content work which has not previously been submitted for a degree at any tertiary education institution.

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Neville Raymond Ellis

Abstract ______

A positive ‘sense of place’ is vital for good mental health and wellbeing, particularly amongst people who maintain close living and working relationships with the Earth. However, environments important to peoples’ health and wellbeing are under threat from anthropogenic climate change. Shifting rainfall patterns, rising temperatures and more frequent severe weather events are desolating environments at a faster rate and on a greater scale than at any time in recorded human history. While climate-driven loss of place is understood in the academic literature to have negative emotional and psychological impacts upon Indigenous populations, this knowledge has rarely informed research examining climate change and its risks to similarly emplaced non-Indigenous people.

Over recent years, climate change and its impacts upon Australian farmers has received growing research interest. Adverse climatic/seasonal conditions (such as drought) have been shown to negatively impact agricultural regions and rural communities, as well as farmers’ mental health and wellbeing. However, little research has investigated farmers’ sense of place or its relationship to farmers’ mental health and wellbeing, particularly in the context of a changing climate. The thesis explores these connections amongst family farmers living in the Western Australian Wheatbelt, a region that has experienced some of the most severe and abrupt climatic changes in Australia. Since the 1970s, winter rainfall has decreased by 20 per cent and seasonal variability (temperature and rainfall) has intensified. Highly dependent upon favourable seasonal weather conditions and exposed to climate-driven market fluctuations, Wheatbelt farmers are argued to be uniquely vulnerable to local-to-global climate risks that threaten not only their economic base, but also their sense of place and mental wellbeing.

The research employs a qualitative case study design situated within an ‘ecohealth’ theoretical framework. Farmers’ sense of place and lived experiences of climate change were examined using a three-part interview series conducted with twenty-two farmers during the 2013-14 agricultural season. In addition, climate-change impacts upon the broader Wheatbelt region (conceived here as a large socio-ecological system) were documented by interpreting data collected from secondary sources and knowledge obtained from fifteen key informants representing various government, community and private organisations.

The thesis findings reveal that farmers’ sense of place is a powerful determinant of their mental health and wellbeing. In addition, climate change was found to undermine farmers’ place-related mental wellbeing as a consequence of its negative impacts upon farmers’ homelands and their broader regional socio-ecological contexts. The thesis offers novel insights into Australian farmers’ sense of place and its importance for their mental health and wellbeing in particular, and, more generally, contributes new theoretical and applied research understandings of people-place relationships and their relevance to mental health and wellbeing in an era of chronic and worsening climatic change.

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Table of Contents

Declaration ...... i Abstract ...... ii Table of Contents ...... iv List of Tables ...... ix List of Figures ...... x Acknowledgements ...... xi Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 1 1.1 Introduction ...... 1 1.2 Thesis purpose, aims and outcomes ...... 4 1.3 Thesis structure ...... 6 Chapter 2: Literature review ...... 8 2.1 Introduction ...... 8 2.2 Anthropogenic global warming: the state of the science ...... 9 2.3 Global climate change and human health ...... 12 2.4 Defining place ...... 14 2.4.1 Place emotions ...... 17 2.4.2 Place identity ...... 19 2.4.3 Place dependence ...... 21 2.4.4 The plurality of place ...... 22 2.5 Place and health ...... 23 2.5.1 Acute weather-related hazards ...... 24 2.5.2 Longer-term climate change ...... 27 2.5.3 New frontiers for place-health research ...... 29 2.6 Place-related health in the Australian agricultural context ...... 31 2.6.1 Australian farmers’ mental health ...... 32 2.6.2 Australian farmers’ sense of place ...... 35 2.6.3 Rationale for the present study ...... 37 2.7 Chapter summary ...... 38 Chapter 3: Theoretical considerations ...... 39 3.1 Introduction ...... 39

3.2 Confusion in the place literature ...... 40 3.3 Critical realism ...... 44 3.4 Ecohealth ...... 49 3.4.1 Principles of ecohealth research ...... 51 3.4.1.1 Systems thinking ...... 51 3.4.1.2 Transdisciplinarity ...... 52 3.4.1.3 Participation ...... 52 3.4.2 Place, ecohealth and resilience thinking ...... 54 3.5 Chapter Summary ...... 55 Chapter 4: Methodology ...... 57 4.1 Introduction ...... 57 4.2 Qualitative case study design ...... 58 4.3 Defining the case study ...... 60 4.3.1 Regional context: the Western Australian Wheatbelt ...... 60 4.3.2 Community context: Newdegate ...... 66 4.4 Methods ...... 71 4.4.1 Community member participants ...... 73 4.4.1.1 Sampling ...... 73 4.4.1.2 Demographics ...... 73 4.4.1.3 Data collection ...... 75 4.4.1.4 Ethical considerations ...... 79 4.4.2 Key Informants ...... 80 4.4.3 Additional data collection methods ...... 82 4.5 Analytical procedures ...... 83 4.6 Evaluative criteria ...... 85 4.6.1 Triangulation ...... 85 4.6.2 Prolonged engagement ...... 86 4.6.3 Positionality ...... 87 4.7 Conclusions and reflections ...... 89 Chapter 5: A resilience analysis of the Western Australian Wheatbelt ...... 91 5.1 Introduction ...... 91 5.2 Resilience theory ...... 92 5.2.1 Foundations of resilience theory ...... 93 5.2.2 The normative dimensions of resilience ...... 97

5.3 Identifying drivers and indicators of system resilience ...... 98 5.3.1 Drivers ...... 99 5.3.1.1 Climate change (rainfall, temperature and seasonal variability) ...... 99 5.3.1.2 Agricultural policy ...... 100 5.3.1.3 Farm terms of trade ...... 100 5.3.1.4 Wheat yield ...... 102 5.3.2 Social indicators of system resilience ...... 103 5.3.2.1 Farmer age ...... 103 5.3.2.2 Number of farm establishments ...... 104 5.4 Phases of the Wheatbelt socio-ecological system ...... 104 5.4.1 The rural boom: 1949-1969 ...... 106 5.4.1.1 System summary: r to K ...... 108 5.4.2 The troubled decade and a changing climate: 1970-1979 ...... 108 5.4.2.1 System summary: Ω ...... 110 5.4.3 Neoliberal agriculture: 1980-2000 ...... 111 5.4.3.1 System summary: α to early K ...... 114 5.4.4 Neoliberal agriculture in an age of increased climate risk: 2000-2013 ...... 114 5.4.4.1 System summary: middle to late K ...... 120 5.4.5 A year of crisis: the 2013-2014 season ...... 122 5.4.5.1 System summary: a tipping point averted? ...... 130 5.5 Conclusions ...... 133 Chapter 6: Farmers’ sense of place ...... 136 6.1 Introduction ...... 136 6.2 Locus of attachment ...... 137 6.3 Predictors of place attachment ...... 138 6.3.1 Length of residence ...... 139 6.3.2 Ownership ...... 141 6.3.3 Control ...... 142 6.3.4 Personal investment ...... 144 6.3.5 Summary ...... 148 6.4 Place meanings (home and work) ...... 148 6.4.1 The geography of the home-work tension ...... 149 6.4.2 The psychology of the home-work tension ...... 154 6.5 Place identity ...... 156

6.5.1 The farm: a reflection of the self ...... 157 6.5.2 The self: a reflection of the farm ...... 159 6.5.3 Summary ...... 161 6.6 Place and wellbeing ...... 162 6.7 Chapter summary and conclusions ...... 166 Chapter 7: Climate change and place-based distress ...... 168 7.1 Introduction ...... 168 7.2 Observations of a changing climate ...... 169 7.2.1 Historical baselines ...... 169 7.2.2 Observations ...... 171 7.2.2.1 Rainfall ...... 171 7.2.2.2 Temperature ...... 174 7.2.2.3 Seasonal variability ...... 176 7.2.2.4 ‘Safety’ and ‘marginality’ ...... 177 7.2.3 Reconciling observations with beliefs ...... 178 7.2.4 Summary and conclusions ...... 182 7.3 Meteoranxiety: the worry about the weather ...... 183 7.4 Solastalgia ...... 191 7.4.1 Loss of control ...... 192 7.4.2 Desolation of the home-farm ...... 197 7.4.3 Seasonal and chronic patterns of place-based distress ...... 203 7.5 Chapter summary and conclusions ...... 207 Chapter 8: Out of place in a climate-changed world ...... 211 8.1 Introduction ...... 211 8.2 The Wheatbelt in a climate-changed future ...... 212 8.2.1 Drivers of future change ...... 213 8.2.1.1 Climate change ...... 213 8.2.1.2 Agricultural production (wheat yield) ...... 215 8.2.1.3 Market conditions ...... 218 8.2.1.4 Agricultural policy ...... 219 8.2.2 A ‘business as usual’ scenario ...... 221 8.2.2.1 Implications for the Wheatbelt socio-ecological system ...... 221 8.2.2.2 Implications for ‘family farming’ ...... 223 8.2.3 Summary and conclusions ...... 225

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8.3 Sense of place: a source of resilience or vulnerability? ...... 227 8.4 A changing sense of place? ...... 232 8.5 Losing the family farm ...... 239 8.5.1 Grieving for the family farm ...... 239 8.5.2 Facilitating place-detachment ...... 244 8.6 Summary and conclusions ...... 249 Chapter 9: Discussion and conclusions ...... 251 9.1 Introduction ...... 251 9.2 Discord between people, place and society ...... 253 9.2.1 People and place ...... 253 9.2.2 People and society ...... 258 9.2.3 Fostering eco-cultural health in the Wheatbelt ...... 265 9.3 Reflections on the research approach ...... 270 9.4 Transferability of findings and directions for future research ...... 274 9.4.1 Farmers’ sense of place ...... 274 9.4.2 Place-based distress ...... 275 9.4.3 The resilience of agricultural socio-ecological systems ...... 277 9.5 Conclusions ...... 279 Appendix 1: Climate Statistics (Monthly Rainfall and Maximum Temperature) for Newdegate, Western Australia ...... 281 Appendix 2: Advertisement ...... 282 Appendix 3: Letter of Invitation ...... 283 Appendix 4: Information and Consent Forms (Community Member Participants) ...... 284 Appendix 5: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 1) ...... 289 Appendix 6: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 2) ...... 291 Appendix 7: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 3) ...... 296 Appendix 8: Information Statement and Consent Form (Key Informants) ...... 299 References ...... 307

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List of Tables Table 1. A Typology of Psychoterratic States ...... 18 Table 2. Agricultural Institutions and Rural Mental Health Organisations Represented in the Research ...... 81 Table 3. Phases of the Adaptive Cycle and their Association with Socio-Ecological Resilience ...... 95 Table 4. Phases of the Wheatbelt Socio-Ecological System: 1949 to 2013-2014 ...... 106 Table 5. A Family Farmer’s Commentary on Seasonal Weather Conditions in Newdegate (2000-2012) ...... 117 Table 6. Media Reports Depicting Agricultural Crisis in the Fortnight 27th June to 9th July, 2013 ...... 128 Table 7. Climate Projections for Southwest Western Australia into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios ...... 213 Table 8. Annual Rainfall (Millimetres) Projections for Lake Grace into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios ...... 214 Table 9. Projected Mean Annual Maximum and Minimum Temperatures (°C) for Lake Grace into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios ...... 214 Table 10. Overview of Findings from Past Research Simulating Impacts of Future Climate Change on Wheat Yields in the Wheatbelt ...... 217

List of Figures Figure 1. The Wheatbelt showing 325mm, 400mm and 750mm isohyets...... 61 Figure 2. South Newdegate fortnightly rainfall deviation (mm) for the period 2000-2012 against the 1923-1999 average ...... 67 Figure 3. Wheatbelt May-October isohyets 2000-2011 compared to 1910-1999...... 68 Figure 4. Difference in the number of September frosts between 2000s and the 1990s...... 69 Figure 5. Thesis timeline...... 72 Figure 6. Community member participant age ...... 74 Figure 7. The four-phase adaptive cycle depicting the four potential states of a complex adaptive system: exploitation (r), conservation (K), release (Ω) and reorganisation (α)...... 94 Figure 8. Percentage change in early winter rainfall (May to July) over two periods as compared with 1910-1968 mean: (a) 1969-1999; (b) 2000-2008...... 101 Figure 9. Farm terms of trade index 1946-1947 to 2012-2013...... 102 Figure 10. Western Australian wheat yield (tonnes per hectare) 1949 to 2013...... 103 Figure 11. The number of farm establishments operating in the Wheatbelt. (a) Trends in the number of farm establishments in the Wheatbelt 1970-2013. (b) Average rate of farm establishment loss per year 1970-2013...... 105 Figure 12. Farm size trend in the Wheatbelt: 1990-2013...... 119 Figure 13. Western Australian rainfall deciles June, 2013...... 127 Figure 14. Photos taken from participants’ living rooms showing the lack of physical separation between the home and the work environments on family farming properties. 153 Figure 15. Newdegate dust storm, February 2013...... 199

Acknowledgements ______

From the outside, it is difficult to grasp how transformative an experience writing a PhD is and how important supervisors are in this process. I am forever indebted to Dr. Glenn Albrecht and Dr. Martin Brueckner for their support and friendship over the last three and a half years. Glenn, your ideas on the psychoterratic continue to inspire, as does your commitment to transdisciplinarity and complexity. Under your tutelage I have been emboldened to think outside the square; to have confidence in my own judgement; and, most importantly, to reconnect with my love of nature. Martin, your keen eye for logic, structure and flow has been invaluable to the completion of this thesis, as have our many chats about bikes, political economy and beer. Your thinking on the politics of place, economics, resource development and climate change continue to shape my own political worldview as well as my thinking on sustainability.

A PhD is as much an emotional journey as it is an intellectual one. There are moments of self-doubt, frustration and confusion that threaten to knock one off course. Luckily, I have had two bulwarks who have shielded me against the worst of these waves. The first is my mum, whose unwavering belief in me continues to be a source of strength. The second is my love, Sarah, who continues to keep me grounded. Although a life of the mind is a wonderful thing, it is also dangerous as you run the risk of losing touch with what really matters. Sarah, you show me every day what really matters with your love, laughter and womanly wisdom. I also thank my auntie Charm for all her love and support, Steve for his home cooking and good wine, as well as my father, Rob, without whom this research would have been possible. Big kisses to Archie and Cleo as well.

I am overwhelmed by the warmth and generosity of the good people of Newdegate. To those of you who participated in the interview series I cannot thank you enough for your time and willingness to allow me to walk, ever so slightly, in your shoes. Your openness and honesty made this PhD possible. I am also extremely grateful to Lee and the other amazing women of the Newdegate Community Resource Centre who provided me a home away from home. I am also extremely grateful to all the key informants who participated in this research and their respective organisations for their expert knowledge and insights.

There are numerous other people to thank for their support, love, feedback, advice and care. These include Dr. Rochelle Spencer, Allan Johnston, Gwen Velge, Dr. Julia Hobson, Dr.

Cecily Scutt, members of the Oceania EcoHealth Chapter. I would also like to thank my mates, both old and new, for keeping me honest, and the other PhDers of ‘the lodge’ for their support. A big thank you to all the support staff at Murdoch University, particularly those located in the School of Management and Governance and the Graduate Research Office.

This thesis is dedicated to my grandmother, Daphne Joyce Kelly, who passed away in September 2014. She taught me that to understand people you first need to see beyond yourself. Indeed, a little bit of empathy goes a long way in this world. Gran also taught me to see the beauty in small things. From the delicate frills of an orchid to the song of a bird, to find peace and contentment in the beauty of nature is to be rich beyond measure. Gran looked upon the world with a childlike wonderment. For her, there really were fairies at the bottom of the garden! And though she is no longer here I can still feel her presence, as can the birds who continue to sing her name.

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What greater grief than the loss of one’s native land.

Euripides (431 b.c.e.)

But no time or nation will produce genius if there is a steady decline away from the integral unity of man (sic) and the earth. The break in this unity is swiftly apparent in the lack of ‘wholeness’ in the individual person. Divorced from his roots, man loses his psychic stability.

Elyne Mitchell (1946)

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Chapter 1: Introduction ______

1.1 Introduction An old colloquialism says ‘farmers live with their feet in the soil and their heads in the sky.’ Indeed, the very possibility of an ‘agri-culture’ is dependent upon ongoing relationships between people, land and climate (Pretty, 2002). From the first cultivation of the seed some 10,000 years ago, farmers have embodied these relationships, and with them, have provided the nourishment for societies to grow and advance (Diamond, 1997). Today, agriculture is a technologically sophisticated, multi-billion dollar global industry. Advances in technology, machinery, and plant genetics have radically changed the practices of farming and agriculture. However, despite these changes, relationships between people, land and climate remain fundamental to agriculture and to rural ways of life.

Agriculture emerged early within the era in the Earth’s history known as the Holocene (12,000BC), a geological period characterised by its relatively warm and stable climate (Pretty, 2002). For millennia, farmers have negotiated the particularities of their local Holocene environments in the production of crops, pastures and livestock. Today, however, the favourable climate patterns of the past are being replaced by a new era of climatic uncertainty as we transition into a new geological epoch of our own making. The ‘Anthropocene’ represents the emergence of humanity as the dominant geophysical force on Earth (Crutzen, 2002; Steffen, Crutzen, & McNeill, 2007). Through the collective actions of our global society, humanity has fundamentally altered the chemical and physical basis of all life and is now pushing Earth systems onto new and uncertain future trajectories (Steffen et al., 2015). In this new era of rapid1 and global environmental change, anthropogenic climate change has emerged as a central challenge to human society

1 The term ‘rapid’ is used throughout this thesis to refer to abrupt and/or sudden changes in regional climate conditions as a result of changes in large-scale atmospheric processes attributed to anthropogenic global warming (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2013). As will be discussed further in Chapter 4, the southwest region of Western Australia has experienced at least a 20 percent reduction in winter rainfall since the 1970s as well as a marked increased in seasonal variability (rainfall and temperature). These observed trends have intensified dramatically since 2000 (Indian Ocean Climate Initiative, 2012). Considering the observed climatic changes have occurred within the period of a single human lifetime, and that observed climate change trends (rainfall and temperature) have accelerated since 2000, describing these processes as ‘rapidly occurring’ is justified.

(Dryzek et al., 2013) and as the greatest threat to public health in the twenty-first century (Costello et al., 2009; Watts et al., 2015).

People within all societies have the potential to be detrimentally impacted by a changing climate; however, some will be affected more rapidly and to a greater extent than others (Adger, 2006; Costello et al., 2009). Agriculture, as an industry, is particularly sensitive to the vagaries of the weather, and has been identified by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) as a human activity uniquely vulnerable to climate change (Porter et al., 2014). In many regions around the world, farmers now contend with multiple forms of environmental degradation and a climate operating beyond previous human experience.

Over the last decade, a growing body of research has investigated the impact of anthropogenic climate change on global agricultural production and food security (e.g. Godfray et al., 2010; Howden et al., 2007; Lobell et al., 2008; Reynolds, 2010; Rosenzweig et al., 2014; Schmidhuber & Tubiello, 2007; Wreford, Moran, & Adger, 2010). Whilst an exceptionally important task, particularly in the context of unbridled population growth (United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 2013) and the accelerating degradation of Earth’s arable land (United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification, 2014), comparatively less research has explored climate change as a health risk to family farmers and rural communities. Considering there are 540 million family farmers worldwide (Food and Agriculture Organisation, 2014) and that agriculture is a human activity particularly exposed and vulnerable to climate change, further investigation of the health risks presented by a changing climate on rural communities and populations may deliver theoretical insights and practical strategies that improve climate-health outcomes at a global scale.

It is well understood that the health of human populations is sensitively affected by climatic change (Smith et al., 2014), the impacts of which operate through multiple and complex pathways of risk (e.g. Costello et al., 2009; McMichael, 2003; Patz, Campbell-Lendrum, Holloway, & Foley, 2005; Watts et al., 2015; Weissbecker, 2011). Some of these include health outcomes related to food and water quality and their availability; heat stress; altered/degraded ecosystem conditions and attendant impacts on local livelihoods; expanding patterns of waterborne, foodborne and vector-borne diseases; and morbidity and mortality resulting from extreme weather-related events (McMichael, Kjellstrom, & Smith, 2006; Watts et al., 2015; Weissbecker, 2011). Despite the rapid progress made into these areas of inquiry over recent years, the emerging climate-health field continues to

define ‘health’ primarily in relation to physical health outcomes (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Berry & Pell, 2015). This is problematic, as poor mental health constitutes the leading cause of infirmary worldwide (Murray, Vos, Lozano, Naghavi, & Flaxman, 2013; Whiteford et al., 2013) and has been identified as a significant obstacle in achieving Millennium Development Goals (Prince et al. 2007). Given this, and considering that the World Health Organisation (WHO) states there can be “no health without mental health” (WHO, 2005, p. 11), there is need for public health practitioners to further engage with the mental health risks posed by a changing climate.

A promising line of inquiry that addresses the mental health dimensions of climate change risk is provided by place. More than simply a material environment or a location of economic activity, places are locations that have been imbued with intrinsic meaning and emotional significance by those associated with them (Adger, Barnett, Chapin III, & Ellemore, 2011a; Hess, Malilay, & Parkinson, 2008; Proshansky, Fabian, & Kaminoff, 1983; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974). A growing body of research has found a strong and positive sense of place is important for good mental health and wellbeing, particularly for people who retain close living and working relationships with their local environments and the land (Albrecht, 2011; Albrecht et al., 2007; Anderson & Smith, 2001; Chamlee-Wright & Storr, 2009; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a; Frumkin, 2003; Hess et al., 2008; Proshansky et al., 1983; Tschakert, Tutu, & Alcaro, 2013). However, meaningful environments important for residents’ mental health and wellbeing are under threat from worsening anthropogenic climate change. As a consequence, residents living in threatened environments are increasingly vulnerable to ‘place-based distress.’

‘Place-based distress’ refers to the distress and dis-ease felt by residents living in a home environment perceived to be undergoing a negative transformation. Technological and environmental disasters, as well as chronic environmental change, are among some of the forces that have the potential to negatively impact places and to elicit place-based distress amongst affected residents (see Chapter 2). As anthropogenic global warming intensifies, however, researchers have documented place-based distress amongst a growing number of communities located in increasingly climate-changed environments. Climate-induced place-based distress is particularly evident amongst victims of weather-related disasters (e.g. Chamlee-Wright & Storr, 2009; Morrice, 2013; Proudley, 2013), Indigenous communities living in climate-sensitive environments (e.g. Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a; McNamara & Westoby, 2011), and the rural poor (e.g.

Tschakert et al., 2013). However, despite recent interest in this area of inquiry, there remains a dearth of research investigating these themes amongst non-Indigenous and relatively affluent populations similarly emplaced within environments perceived to be negatively transforming under a changing climate.

In Australia, climate change is likely to have an especially negative impact on the mental health and wellbeing of family farmers. Highly dependent upon favourable seasonal weather conditions and exposed to climate-driven market shocks, Wheatbelt farmers are argued to be uniquely vulnerable to local-to-global climate risks that threaten not only their economic base, but also their sense of place and mental wellbeing. Despite the often romanticised and idealised accounts of farmers’ relationship to nature and to ‘the land’, little research has neither systematically investigated farmers’ sense of place (Johnsen, 2003), nor the way farmers’ mental health and wellbeing are impacted if their sense of place is threatened. This thesis attempts to shed light on these issues.

1.2 Thesis purpose, aims and outcomes The purpose of this thesis is to examine how rapidly changing climatic conditions are impacting the sense of place and mental wellbeing of Australian family farmers. I contend farmers’ sense of place is a powerful driver of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing, which, if threatened or disrupted, has the potential to elicit emotional and psychological distress. ‘Sense of place’ is used here to refer to the emotional and psychological bonds people form to meaningful environments. Because places occur over various geographical scales (Altman & Low, 1992; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974), this investigation of farmers’ sense of place is limited to the meanings, emotions, and psychological connections farmers display to their own farming environments. In addition, the term ‘mental health’ is defined here in its full sense, as a “state of well-being in which every individual realises his or her own potential, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and is able to make a contribution to her or his community” (WHO, 2014).

Using a qualitative case study design located in the Western Australian Wheatbelt2, a region undergoing some of the most severe and abrupt climate change in Australia (Bates, Hope, Ryan, Smith, & Charles, 2008; CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015; IOCI, 2012), this research examines how anthropogenic climate change is impacting relationships between people and place at personal and regional scales of analysis. At a personal level, this thesis draws upon a three-part interview series conducted with family farmers during

2 Hereafter referred to as ‘the Wheatbelt’.

the 2013-14 agricultural season that explored farmers’ lived experiences of place in the midst of rapidly changing climatic conditions. At a regional scale, data provided by key informants and derived from various secondary sources are analysed to ascertain how relationships between people and place have been affected by climate change via its impact on the environmental, economic and social order of the Wheatbelt, conceived here as a large socio-ecological system (SES). The two-scale approach is informed by an ‘ecohealth’ theoretical approach to human health and wellbeing which assumes that: 1) human health and ecosystem health are interdependent, and 2) that human health issues cannot be understood in isolation from their broader environmental, economic and social contexts. More detail is given to the theoretical and methodological approach employed in this thesis in Chapters 3 and 4 respectively.

The findings from this thesis contribute novel understandings of the determinants of Australian farmers’ mental health, as well as the emotional and psychological impacts of rapid anthropogenic climate change on highly place-attached people. In addition, this thesis also contributes theoretical insights into the linkages between people, place, health and socio-ecological resilience, and informs discussions regarding the development of practical and policy strategies designed to promote human health and ecosystem health concomitantly. These outcomes are discussed further in Chapter 9.

Chapter-specific outcomes from this research include:

• a novel theoretical perspective of place as embedded within the emerging ecohealth paradigm (Chapter 3);

• an updated resilience analysis of the Wheatbelt; a region conceived as a large SES (Chapter 5);

• an extension of earlier, but largely disparate and incidental, research examining Australian farmers’ sense of place to provide the first systematic and theoretically integrated investigation of farmers’ place-related mental health and wellbeing (Chapters 6 and 7);

• a scenario-based analysis of future climate change risks to people and place in the Wheatbelt with policy-relevant findings for community and Government-based organisations (Chapter 8).

1.3 Thesis structure Chapter 2: Literature review. This chapter provides an overview of the current state of the climate science before going on to discuss place and place-related health. A former case study detailing Inuit experiences of climate-related loss of place is presented to illustrate, in a general sense, connections between climate change, sense of place and mental wellbeing. Prior research into Australian farmers’ mental health is then examined to underscore the need to attend to sense of place as a driver of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing in the context of a rapidly changing climate.

Chapter 3: Theoretical considerations. Place and sense of place lack definitional consensus and present researchers with significant theoretical and methodological challenges. The roots of these challenges are examined before articulating a theoretical approach that is consistent with the aims of this thesis and the phenomena under investigation. Critical realism and the ecohealth approach to human health and wellbeing are discussed here.

Chapter 4: Methodology. Following on in a consistent manner from the theoretical approach outlined previously, this chapter details the methodological approach employed in this thesis and provides an outline of the case study location.

Chapter 5: A resilience analysis of the Western Australian Wheatbelt. This chapter examines how farmers’ broader socio-ecological contexts have been impacted by four decades of pervasive climate change. Extending upon findings from a previous resilience analysis of the Western Australian SES conducted by Allison (2003) and later reported by Allison and Hobbs (2006), this chapter demonstrates that the Wheatbelt SES has become increasingly vulnerable to climatic and economic shocks operating across local-to-global scales. This chapter provides context for the examination of farmers’ lived experiences of place presented in the following two chapters, and is the basis for the future climate change scenario developed in Chapter 8.

Chapter 6: Farmers’ sense of place. Chapter 6 provides the first systematic investigation into Australian family farmers’ sense of place. This chapter examines conditions important for the development of a strong and positive farming sense of place, tensions between the home and work environment, farmers’ place identity, and how the farm environment contributes to farmers’ mental health and wellbeing.

Chapter 7: Climate change and place-based distress. Farmers’ observations and understandings of climate change are examined before exploring how changing climatic

conditions and enhanced seasonal variability have impacted farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental health and wellbeing. Elements of Albrecht’s ‘psychoterratic typology’ (e.g. Albrecht, 2011, 2012; Albrecht et al., 2007) are used to frame findings.

Chapter 8: Out of place in a climate-changed world. Chapter 8 considers the potential impacts of intensifying anthropogenic climate change on the future evolution of the Wheatbelt SES and its associated implications for farmers’ sense of place and mental wellbeing. Place-related themes are discussed in relation to those who remain farming and those who will be forced off their land. Recommendations are made to relevant organisations involved in the promotion of positive mental health and wellbeing in rural areas.

Chapter 9: Discussion and conclusions. Research findings are critically examined and framed as points of discord between people, place and society. Implications for practice, theory and practice are discussed.

Chapter 2: Literature review ______

2.1 Introduction Many of the challenges confronting humanity in the twenty-first century are global in origin but local in effect. Overpopulation, environmental degradation, resource scarcity, the end of cheap energy, food shortages and conflict between nations all have global origins and have the potential to cause widespread consequences. However, despite their global reach, these challenges will be felt most keenly in the specific places of everyday life (Relph, 2008a). Perhaps more so than any of these other challenges, anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change have the potential to fundamentally transform places and disrupt human relationships to them. Rising seas, shifting rainfall patterns and increasingly powerful storms are among some of the effects of a changing climate that will force individuals and entire societies to reconsider their relationships to the physical world.

As climate change intensifies, so does its potential to impact human health and wellbeing. Not all people and places will be affected equally. Rather, place-specific factors will shape how climate risks are experienced in different locations and the nature of their impacts on different people and environments (Hess et al., 2008). Places are locations that encompass a wide range of environmental, economic, social and cultural meanings and values (Adger et al., 2011a; Hess et al., 2008). To date, however, material, instrumental and utilitarian values of place have disproportionally shaped the assessment of climate change risks to public health (Adger, Barnett, Brown, Marshall, & O'Brien, 2013; Adger et al., 2011a; Fresque-Baxter & Armitage, 2012; Tschakert et al., 2013). It is perhaps for this reason that physical health outcomes operating through material or economic pathways of risk have found precedence in the climate-health research agenda (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011). However, it is increasingly understood that places are also important for peoples’ mental health and wellbeing, and that disruptions to place can have negative health consequences for highly place-attached people. While these understandings have been applied across various climate-affected populations, place-related health has yet to find systematic application in the analysis of Australian farmers contending with a changing climate. As such, I argue an understanding of farmers’ sense of place - farmers’ emotional and psychological relationships to their farming environments - provides a novel way of understanding and conceptualising the mental health risks posed by a changing climate to this highly place-attached and place-dependent population.

To begin this chapter, an overview of the current state of the climate science is presented. Warming trends and climate changes are projected to continue into the future and to pose an ever-increasing threat to human health and wellbeing. In order to conceptualise climate- related mental health risks, I introduce key place-related concepts that help to define human relationships to place. The relationship between place and individual mental health and wellbeing is then discussed, particularly in the context of acute weather-related disasters and unfolding climate change. Lessons drawn from previous research examining Inuit experiences of climate-induced environmental change are then outlined to illustrate, in a general sense, connections between climate change, sense of place and mental wellbeing, and the application of these connections for understanding the mental health risks to Australian farmers posed by a changing climate. A rationale for this thesis will then be presented and a summary provided.

2.2 Anthropogenic global warming: the state of the science Human actions since the Industrial Revolution have fundamentally altered the chemical and radiative properties of the Earth’s atmosphere. Humanity has released vast amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere through the burning of fossil fuels and extensive land clearing. Greenhouse gases prevent long-wave radiation received from the sun from radiating back out into space, thus creating an energy imbalance that drives observed global warming and attendant climate change trends (IPCC, 2013). Atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide (CO₂), the greatest contributor to observed global warming (IPCC), have risen from a pre-industrial base of 280 parts per million (ppm) to 400 ppm in 2014, the highest concentration in 800,000 years (IPCC). Although this milestone received little attention in the mainstream media of Australia, for those closely watching the trajectory of the global climate system, crossing the 400ppm threshold was a salient indicator of the degree to which humanity has altered the biogeochemical properties of the Earth.

In response to elevating atmospheric greenhouse gas concentrations, average global surface temperatures have warmed by 0.87°C relative to the 1951-1980 average (NASA/GISS, 2015). Furthermore, the rate of global warming is accelerating: nine out of the ten warmest years on record have occurred in the last 12 years (Climate Council, 2014a). As the atmosphere warms, long-term patterns of climate are being altered, resulting in ‘climate change’. The climate is a system comprising the atmosphere, hydrosphere, cryosphere, land surface and biosphere (IPCC, 2007). Because it is an interconnected system, a change in any one component has the potential to affect the entire climate

system. Over geological time, Earth’s climate has responded to various internal and external forcings, such as volcanic eruptions, meteorite impacts, variations in solar radiation, and shifts in the Earths’ orbit and tilt. Today, however, anthropogenic global warming is the primary driver of climate change (IPCC, 2013).

The climate of today is quantitatively different to that experienced by previous human generations: it is warmer, more energetic and less predictable (Dryzek et al., 2013; IPCC, 2013). Some of the key climatic and environmental changes noted by the IPCC (2013) include:

• the increased prevalence and duration of extreme weather and climate events (such as heatwaves, heavy precipitation, and the number of warm days and nights)3; • rising sea levels (sea levels have risen by 0.19m in the period 1901 to 2010 and are now rising faster than at any time observed over the previous two millennia); • oceans acidification and warming; and • diminished Arctic sea ice and snow cover in the Northern Hemisphere; glacier retreat; and the loss of mass from the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets.

Modelling assessed by the IPCC (2013) indicates global warming and climate change trends will continue into the future. In the near term (2016 to 2035) the global average temperature is projected to increase by 0.3 to 0.7°C degrees compared to 1986-2005 levels. Projections of distant future warming involve a greater level of uncertainty as warming trends become increasingly sensitive to the rate and intensity of future human- caused greenhouse gas emissions. A low emission scenario suggests average surface temperatures will increase by a further 0.3 to 1.7°C by 2081-2100. However, a high emission scenario projects a further 2.6 to 4.8°C of global warming for the same period. Modelling also indicates future anthropogenic global warming will produce further climate change. Projections suggest precipitation changes will continue in line with that already observed: wet regions will become wetter, dry regions will become drier. Natural sources of inter-annual climate variability (such as El Niño and La Niña) will also be amplified under

3 It must be noted that it is difficult to attribute any one extreme weather event to anthropogenic global warming processes. However, modelling analysed by the IPCC (2013) indicates that such events are likely to become more severe and occur with a greater frequency due to anthropogenic global warming.

high emission scenarios, rendering local-to-global climates less predictable. In addition, as average surface temperatures rise, projections indicate ice cover (sea ice, glacier cover, and extent of spring snow cover) will continue to diminish and sea levels will continue to rise.

As greenhouse gas emissions continue unabated the climate system will become increasingly subject to ‘tipping points’. Climate tipping points involve biophysical processes that, once initiated, have the potential to unleash rapid and irreversible feedback processes (Hansen, 2009; IPCC, 2013). Some of these include the loss of Arctic sea ice, melting glaciers and ice sheets, and the release of vast quantities of methane4 from the melting permafrost (Hansen, 2009; Lenton, 2011). Furthermore, climatologists have observed a lag-time between greenhouse gas emissions and atmospheric responses. According to a World Bank (2014) report, even with very ambitious global targets to reduce future emissions, warming close to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels by mid-century is already ‘locked’ into the global climate system. Rising global temperatures and worsening climate change is now unavoidable.

Given the complexities surrounding the regulation and mitigation of greenhouse gas emissions, to date there has been no legally binding international agreement on emission targets or reductions (Lazarus, 2009; Levin, Cashore, Bernstein, & Auld, 2012). Today, 35.6 gigatonnes of CO₂ are emitted annually (Pretty, 2013), contributing a 2ppm increase in atmospheric concentrations per year (IPCC, 2013). At this rate of increase, global concentrations of CO₂ will exceed 450ppm in the next three decades. Without dramatic intervention, the world is heading for the upper end of global warming projections (Christoff, 2013) and will overshoot the officially endorsed, though strongly contested (Tschakert, 2015), international target to limit warming to 2°C. As a consequence of the complex and non-linear physics driving global warming and climate change, warming and climate change trends are likely to occur with a greater degree of surprise and irreversibility into the future.

Climate change has occurred before and humankind has adapted (deMenocal, 2001). However, the rapidity and extent of anthropogenic climate change is beyond previous human experience and presents challenges that are new to the history of our species (Dryzek et al., 2013). To date, much of the discussion regarding the consequences of a changing climate has focused on risks to economic conditions, vulnerable industries, and the amenity and ‘resource stock’ of natural environments (McMichael & Lindgren, 2011).

4 Methane (CH₄) is a powerful greenhouse gas fourteen times more potent than carbon dioxide.

However, as McMichael and Lindgren also state: “these are very important social assets, but they are not as fundamentally important as are the health and survival of people” (2011, p. 401).

2.3 Global climate change and human health Human health and wellbeing are fundamentally dependent upon the continued stability and integrity of Earth’s biological and physical systems (Albrecht, Higginbotham, Connor, & Freeman, 2008; Berbes-Blazquez, Oestreicher, Mertens, & Saint-Charles, 2014; Forget & Lebel, 2001; Lebel, 2003; Millennium Ecosystem Assessment, 2005; Watts et al., 2015; Whitmee et al., 2015; WHO, 2015). “The world’s climate”, writes McMichael (2003), “is an integral part of [these] complex life-supporting processes [and is] one of many large natural systems that are now coming under pressure from the increasing weight of human numbers and economic activity” (p. 1). Humanity has radically altered the stability of this large natural system and in doing so has created “an environmental health hazard of unprecedented scale” (Frumkin & McMichael, 2008, p. 403). Such is the scale and complexity of the health-related risks posed by a changing climate that it has also been described as the single greatest public health threat in the twenty-first century (Costello et al., 2009).

Climate change produces various threats to human health and wellbeing that operate through multiple pathways of risk (IPCC, 2014; McMichael et al., 2006; Watts et al., 2015). Previous research has highlighted various climate-related threats to human physical health. These include an increased prevalence and distribution of foodborne, waterborne, and vector borne diseases; access to water and nutrition; increased heat-related stress and injury; heightened mortality and morbidity stemming from extreme weather events; ecosystem disturbance and attendant negative impacts on the material conditions required for physical wellbeing (e.g. McMichael, 2003; McMichael et al., 2003; McMichael & Lindgren, 2011; Patz et al., 2005; Smith et al., 2014; Watts et al., 2015).

Some of the health impacts stemming from a changing climate will be experienced directly (e.g. heat-related stress and increased morbidity and mortality from extreme weather events); however, it is likely that the vast majority of these health impacts will be mediated by complex economic, environmental and social factors (McMichael, 2013; McMichael & Lindgren, 2011; Watts et al., 2015). In response, ‘place’ has emerged as a useful way of thinking about localised climate risk pathways (Adger et al., 2013; Adger et al., 2011a; Hess et al., 2008; Lyth, Harwood, Hobday, & McDonald, 2015). ‘Place’, in the context of a

changing climate, is the sum total of localised factors that determine residents’ exposure, vulnerability or resilience to climate change (Hess et al., 2008). Place-based factors that shape climate risk include localised environmental, economic, social, political and cultural variables that operate in unison to produce an inequality of climate-related health risks across different populations and places. As Yohe and Tol (2002, p. 25) note, public health threats related to climate change are not homogenous; rather, they are “location specific and path-dependent.”

Identifying place-based risks can enhance public-health preparedness to a changing climate. As Hess et al. (2008) argue:

Climate change will disrupt ecologic, cultural, and economic relationships as well as nested conceptions of place. Evaluating climate change’s effects on a particular place requires anticipation of these disrupted relationships and their resulting health effects, as well as identification of strategies that may no longer be sustainable in a given place (p. 468).

However, determining risk is not straightforward, as ‘risk’ – amongst other things (see: Kunreuther et al., 2014) - is a function of what society deems to be valuable (Pachauri, 2006). To date, instrumental and material values of place have been given precedence in the determination of climate change risk (Adger et al., 2011a; Fresque-Baxter & Armitage, 2012; O'Brien & Wolf, 2010; Tschakert et al., 2013). Indeed, as Adger et al. (2011, p. 1) argue, the assumption that “climate change only becomes important to society when it affects material aspects of wellbeing, those most easily summarised in economic costs” remains implicitly situated within the science and policy of climate change adaptation. While climate change certainly has the potential to disrupt ecological and economic relationships to place, it is also important to recognise that places also encapsulate a wide range of cultural and social meanings that make them intrinsically valuable for people who are associated with them (e.g. Adger et al., 2013; Adger et al., 2011a; Quinn, Lorenzoni, & Adger, 2015; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1977). It is these intrinsic valuations of place that have historically been underrepresented in the determination of the health risks associated with a changing climate.

Over recent years, however, the intrinsic meanings and valuations of place are finding growing application in various discourses of human health and wellbeing. From the perspective of human health, places are not neutral phenomena; rather, they engender various functions that either support or undermine the mental health and wellbeing of

individuals, communities and entire cultures (Albrecht, 2005; Albrecht et al., 2007; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012b; Eyles & Williams, 2008; Frumkin, 2003; Hess et al., 2008; Tschakert et al., 2013). It is this function of place that requires further attention in the determination of the public health risks associated with a changing climate (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012; Fresque-Baxter & Armitage, 2012; Hess et al., 2008; Hulme, 2009; Tschakert et al., 2013). Before moving on to examine the relationship between place and human health in more detail, it is prudent at this point to provide a definition of place.

2.4 Defining place Place is a complex phenomenon encompassing the various ways individuals and populations relate to the physical environment. Typically, a starting point in the definition of place is to differentiate it from space. Whereas space comprises a set of mathematical qualities that give it definition (e.g. map coordinates, dimensions, distances), places are locations that are imbued with meanings and significance by those associated with them (Casey, 1997; Relph, 1976). Places have been referred to as “profound locations of human existence to which people have emotional and psychological ties” (Relph, 1976, p. 141), “active settings which are inextricably linked to the lives and activities of its inhabitants” (Teo & Huang, 1996, p. 310), and simply as spaces that have been imbued with meaning (Tuan, 1977).

According to Gieryn (2000), places consist of three attributes: location, the material environment and meaning. Location is the function of place that differentiates ‘here’ from ‘there’. Places, then, are ‘bounded’ entities (Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974, 1977). However, the boundaries of place are fluid, permeable, and commonly flow into other places of a larger and smaller scale (Milligan, 1998). In this sense, places are nested within other places (Altman & Low, 1992; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974). For instance, a home is comprised of many rooms; a city of many suburbs; a region of many cities; etcetera (Tuan, 1977). Individuals thus have the potential to form attachments to places that exist in different locations and that occur across different geographical scales (Hidalgo & Hernandez, 2001). Researchers must therefore explicitly state the scale at which their investigation of place occurs if confusion is to be avoided.5

The second defining feature of place is the material environment (Gieryn, 2000). Whether it is elements of the natural environment such as rivers, trees and mountains, or aspects of the built environment such as roads, buildings and suburbs, place is grounded in its

5 See section 6.2 for detail on the geographical limits of place employed in this research.

physicality. Cyber space and other social environments unanchored in a material environment are therefore excluded in this definition of place (Gieryn, 2000). Debate continues in the literature, however, regarding the extent to which the material environment shapes the meanings and values of place. The argument can be defined as the tension that exists between those who proclaim place to be constructed by human subjectivity, and those who suggest place to be an attribute of an objective and material environment (Lewicka, 2011). The tension between environmental determinism and cultural determinism has found expression across many areas of the social sciences, but perhaps nowhere is this tension felt more strongly than in arguments regarding the definition of place (Patterson & Williams, 2005). The way this tension is approached inherently shapes one’s methodological and theoretical decisions (Patterson & Williams), and therefore this will be a topic of further discussion in Chapter 3. For the time being, my own position with regard to this tension is consistent with Adger et al. (2011) who state:

Just as the meanings attached to a place may be transformed through changes in the social and political context, proposed changes to the physical environment may lead to the articulation of new meanings, and actual changes to the physical environment may contribute to the renegotiation of meanings […] Thus, it is not just changing social relations and context that change the meaning of places; changing environments—as is occurring due to climate change—can also change meanings (p. 3).

Place is therefore neither entirely socially constructed nor entirely environmentally determined; rather, it is a product of the complex interaction of people with an environment (Entrikin, 1991; Vanclay, 2008). From this perspective, social systems and natural systems have agency in shaping place-based meanings and values. Therefore, the subjective and objective features of place and their interaction require consideration.

Third, places are locations invested with meaning and intrinsic value by those associated with them. It is the meaning component of places that transforms spaces into meaningful places (Tuan, 1977). The manner in which places become imbued with meaning is a function of human experience (Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974, 1977). Although places that are never visited can become valuable or gain meaning for individuals (Adger et al., 2011a), in the context of this thesis it is the lived experience of a place that is of concern. Unlike some phenomenological perspectives that suggest the human experience of place is unaffected by social or cultural values (e.g. Husserlian phenomenology), I agree with Manzo (2003) who argues that an individual’s experience of place is embedded within a broader set of

societal and cultural mores. Socio-cultural values must therefore also be attended to in the investigation of an individual’s experience of place.

It is through the experience of a place and the creation of a meaningful environment that individuals develop a sense of place (Relph, 2008b). Unlike the term ‘genius loci’ which denotes a range of factors that, when taken together, define the character or local distinctiveness of a place, ‘sense of place’ refers to the way people experience, understand, and emotionally/psychologically relate to place (Convery, Corsane, & Davis, 2012). A sense of place can be thought to exist along a sliding scale of specificity; ranging from the meanings and values people derive from the unique and endemic features of a particular place (an ‘endemic’ or ‘native’ sense of place: see Albrecht, 2012), through to those that are derived from our increasingly mobile, homogenous and arguably ‘placeless’ global society (Escobar, 2001; Relph, 1976). There appears to be a gradation of endemism and ‘deepness’ in the Wheatbelt: from the Aboriginal experience of the naturally-evolved biophysical environment6, to farming families’ experience of the Wheatbelt’s semi-cleared agricultural landscapes, and now to farmers’ experiences of the Wheatbelt as a globally- connected and highly engineered landscape. The tension between an endemic and a global (placeless) sense of place is examined further in Chapter 9.

The manner in which individuals and groups emotionally, psychologically and functionally relate to their places has been a topic of inquiry for at least forty years (Lewicka, 2011). In this time, sense of place has been investigated across various disciplines, each with their own theoretical, methodological and metaphysical traditions. As a result, a plethora of place-related concepts has been developed. It is beyond the limits of this thesis to review each place-concept in detail. Instead, this discussion focuses on three particularly relevant features of sense of place: place emotions, place identity and place dependence.

6 The Noongar people have inhabited the landscapes of southwest Western Australia for at least 50,000 years. Although beyond the scope of this thesis to discuss in detail, it is important to recognise that the Wheatbelt (along with the rest of Australia) was a culturally, emotionally and psychologically significant region for human beings long before European settlement. It is perhaps one of the great tragedies of European settlement in Australia that Aboriginal connections to place were, and largely continue to be, overlooked, misunderstood, and dismissed. Indeed, the historical legal doctrine of ‘Terra Nullius’ - nobody’s land - indelibly shaped societal attitudes towards the Australian environment, giving impetus to successive State and Federal Governments to view much of the Australian continent as a vast ‘wilderness’ in need of domestication and ripe for economic exploitation. For more on Aboriginal connections to place (or ‘Country’) and Australian societies’ uneasy relationships with the Australian environment, see Gammage (2011), Lines (1991), Rose (1996), and Stanner (1979).

2.4.1 Place emotions Among the first to consider the emotionality of places was the humanistic geographer Yi Fu Tuan, who, in 1974, developed the term ‘topophilia’ to describe what is essentially the love a person feels towards a place. Tuan considered topophilia to be a ‘mild human expression’ that becomes greatly amplified when environments are imbued with personal and cultural meaning (in Albrecht, 2012). Tuan writes:

Topophilia takes many forms and varies greatly in emotional range and intensity. It is a start to describe what they are: fleeting visual pleasure; the sensual delight of physical contact; the fondness for place because it is familiar, because it is home and incarnates that past, because it evokes pride of ownership or of creation; joy in things because of animal health and vitality (1974, p. 247).

Similarly, within environmental psychology, emotional connections to place are captured by the term ‘place attachment’.7 Place attachment has been investigated quantitatively as the strength of emotional bond that exists between a person and a place, and qualitatively as a set of place meanings that give a location its intrinsic value and emotional significance (Williams, 2014a). Perhaps more so than any other location, the ‘home’ holds special significance as a place of intense emotional attachment (Blunt & Dowling, 2006; Relph, 1976). Positive place attachments to home may include feelings of security, belonging, and a deep sense of familiarity (Blunt & Dowling, 2006; Case, 1996; Moore, 2000; Relph, 1976).

More recently, a ‘psychoterratic typology’ has been developed to give expression to specific place-related emotions and psychological states (Albrecht, 2005, 2011, 2012; Albrecht et al., 2007; McManus, Albrecht, & Graham, 2014). The psychoterratic typology (psycho – mind; terratic – Earth) is an emerging set of interrelated concepts that describe the “psycho-dynamics of the human-nature relationship” (Albrecht, 2012, pp. 249-250). The typology consists of various positive and negative psychoterratic states that gain their definition in opposition to one another. The typology is presented in Table 1.

The most widely cited psychoterratic state is ‘solastalgia’. Defined in opposition to Tuan’s (1974) ‘topophilia’, solastalgia describes the sense of distress felt by those living within a

7 Some authors use ‘place attachment’ to refer to the larger body of people-place concepts. Within such frameworks, place attachment is said to encompass sense of place, place identity and place dependence. However, the term place attachment has also be used to denote emotional/affective relationships to place. To avoid confusion, in this thesis I use the terms ‘sense of place’ to refer to the body of people-place relationships and ‘place attachment’ to refer to an individuals’ emotional/affective bonds to a place. This is consistent with Cross, Keske, Lacy, Hoag, and Bastian (2011).

loved environment that is perceived to be deteriorating (Albrecht, 2007; Albrecht et al., 2007; Albrecht, 2012). Put colloquially, solastalgia is the homesickness one feels while still being at home (Albrecht, et al., 2007). Solastalgia has found growing application in major international reports detailing the potential mental health impacts of a changing climate and other forms of global environmental change (e.g. IPCC, 2014; Watts et al., 2015; Whitmee et al., 2015). Like all aspects of the psychoterratic typology, solastalgia is not a biomedical syndrome, though it may elicit or exacerbate clinically-defined psychopathologies. Instead, the psychoterratic refers to existential, emotional or even spiritual connections to place (Albrecht, 2012).

Table 1. A Typology of Psychoterratic States

A Typology of Psychoterratic States

Negative States Origin Positive States Origin Nostalgia Hofer (1688) Endemophilia Albrecht (2010)

Necrophilia Fromm (1964) Biophilia Fromm (1964)

Biophobia Kellert and Biophilia Wilson (1984) Wilson (1993)

Ecophobia Sobel (1996) Ecophilia Sobel (1996)

Solastalgia Albrecht (2003) Topophilia Tuan (1974)

Global Dread Albrecht, J. (2003) Soliphilia Albrecht (2009)

Nature Deficit Louv (2008) Ecophilia and Albrecht (2010) Disorder Eutierria

Ecoparalysis Rees (2008); Soliphilia Albrecht (2009) Albrecht (2008)

Ecoanxiety Leff (1990) and Eutierria Albrecht (2010) others Note: adapted from Albrecht (2012) Psychoterratic conditions in a scientific and technological world. In Ecopsychology: science totems and the technological species, by P. H. Kahn Jr., & P. Hasbach (Eds.) 2012, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Copyright 2012 by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Adapted with permission.

The degradation of place, or the loss of a loved place, can elicit strong feelings of distress and dis-ease amongst affected individuals. Whereas topophilia may be a ‘mild human experience’, the pain and grief of losing place can be crippling. Separation from a homeland and its subsequent impact on mental health and wellbeing was first incorporated into

medical discourse in 1688 by Johannes Hofer. Hofer, a trainee medical doctor, observed a range of bodily and psychological sequelae amongst men fighting on foreign lands. Hofer associated these symptoms with an intense desire or longing to return home. In response to his observations, Hofer created the term ‘nostalgia’ - a neologism developed from the Greek nostos (return to home or native land) and the New Latin suffix algia (suffering, pain, or sickness) from the Greek root algos (Albrecht, 2012). Nostalgia continued to find expression as a clinically-defined medical condition until the mid-twentieth century. Gradually, nostalgia was supplanted by the modern term ‘homesickness’ - the distress or ‘sickness’ one may feel when separated from a home environment. Today, nostalgia refers to a sense of melancholia felt towards a home environment (or just about anything else) that has been lost in time.

The distress and dis-ease felt from the separation from a home environment no longer constitutes a medically definable condition (Fullilove, 1996) and ‘homesickness’ and ‘nostalgia’ are no longer recognised as medical conditions in their own right (Fullilove, 1996; Vingerhoets, 1997). However, this is not to say that a separation from a home environment, or the loss of a loved place, is no less significant for the displaced and dislocated. For instance, a seminal study conducted by Marc Fried in 1963 found the grief experienced by residents forced to relocate from a working class slum in Boston’s West End was comparable to “a grief response showing most of the characteristics of grief and mourning for a lost person” (p. 167). More recently, research conducted amongst Indigenous and non-Indigenous groups alike has found similar expressions of distress and grief amongst residents living in environments subject to climate-change degradation (these studies are discussed in Section 2.3).

In this thesis, farmers’ positive place emotions are explored further in Chapter 6 and negative place emotions in Chapters 7 and 8. No attempt is made to incorporate the totality of the psychoterratic typology. Instead, only those elements considered by the researcher to accurately reflect participants’ emotional and psychological states as they occur in relation to place are included.

2.4.2 Place identity The notion that the ‘self’ is developed, maintained, and responsive to the physical environment is a common theme within literatures of place. For instance, phenomenological philosophers often consider place and self to be consubstantial (Casey, 1993, 1997, 2001a; Heidegger, 1962; Malpas, 1999). As Casey eloquently writes from a

phenomenological perspective: “there is no place without self, and no self without place” (Casey, 2001b, p. 406). This is a perspective largely shared by humanistic geographers influenced by the philosophical assumptions of existentialism and phenomenology (Relph, 1976; Seamon, 1982; Tuan, 1977).

Within environmental psychology, relationships between place and self are conceived in two ways. The first - ‘place identification’ (Uzzell, Pol, & Badenas, 2002) - refers to a process in which individuals come to define themselves in relation to a shared social group of a specific location. Individuals, by way of their membership group, then evaluate themselves positively or negatively in comparison with social groups of another location (Twigger-Ross & Uzzell, 1996; Uzzell et al., 2002). This approach, however, has been argued to reduce ‘place’ to a social process by omitting the physical environment from the analysis of self-identity (Twigger-Ross & Uzzell, 1996).

The second approach - ‘place identity’ - consists of a set of cognitions about the physical environment that come to define the self (Korpela, 1989; Proshansky, 1978; Proshansky et al., 1983). Proshansky et al. (1983) define place identity as “a sub-structure of the self- identity of the person consisting of, broadly conceived, cognitions about the physical world in which the individual lives” (p. 59). Although other people in a shared physical setting influence the development and maintenance of place identity, it is the objects, spaces and places that predominately influence the development and make-up of place identity (Antonsich, 2010).

Place identity performs various functions that serve the wellbeing of the individual. For instance, according to Fried (1963), ‘spatial identity’, a corollary of place identity, is fundamental to human functioning. Not only is one’s location important for maintaining an individual’s social bonds and group identity, Fried also contends spatial identity plays a significant role in orientating one’s own position within the world as a point of “phenomenal and ideational integration” (Fried, p. 156). It is for this reason that dislocation and displacement are often associated with a destabilisation of the self. For the residents of Boston’s West End, Fried concludes that their experiences of overwhelming grief and loss from having been forcibly removed from their home environments was, in part, due to the disruption of their spatial identity and their sense of belonging in the world. Fried’s results are corroborated in contemporary research investigating the psychological impacts of enforced relocations in other neighbourhood settings (Fullilove, 2009; Greene, Tehranifar, Hernandez-Cordero, & Fullilove, 2011).

In order to maintain wellbeing, self-identity must not only be maintained, it must also be adjusted as the person, their physical environment, and their broader contexts change both gradually over time and more rapidly as a result of a sudden or significant event (Proshansky et al., 1983). This suggests a degree of dynamism is required to maintain a stable and positive place identity in a changing world. To reflect the dynamic quality of place identity, Twigger-Ross and Uzzell (1996) integrate place identity with ‘Identity Process Theory’ (Breakwell, 1986, 1992). Breakwell conceives identity as a dynamic concept that develops through the accommodation, assimilation and evaluation of the social world. According to Identity Process Theory, information chosen to be accommodated, assimilated and evaluated is governed by four principles: 1) distinctiveness: the desire to maintain personal distinctiveness or uniqueness; 2) continuity: the desire to maintain a congruent and consistent self-concept through time; 3) self-esteem: the desire to maintain a positive concept of oneself; and 4) self-efficacy: an individual’s belief in their capabilities to meet situational demands. Twigger-Ross and Uzzell extend the application of Identity Process Theory to consider how individuals maintain their self-identity through the accommodation, assimilation and evaluation of the physical world. The authors conclude that individuals use the same four principles of distinctiveness, continuity, self-esteem and self-efficacy to maintain their sense of self-identity in a changing physical environment.

How people accommodate new environmental realities into their sense of self, or become dislocated from previous selves as significant environments are lost, are increasingly important areas of inquiry, particularly in this era of rapid climate change. These themes are examined in relation to Wheatbelt farming families in Chapters 7 and 8.

2.4.3 Place dependence Places also support various human activities vital for peoples’ livelihoods and lifestyles. ‘Place dependence’ refers to the ways in which places afford the performance and attainment of human activities and goals (Stokols & Shumaker, 1981). Stokols and Schumaker argue that when places are disrupted due to an abrupt environmental change or some other negative force, then individuals will evaluate the degree to which the place continues to support their preconceived values, goals, and/or expectations. If a current place no longer supports the goals of its residents, then residents may then evaluate the relative ‘quality’ of their current place against other comparable places. The identification and evaluation of alternative places, according to the authors, is mediated by several factors, including the residents’ level of awareness and familiarity of other comparable places, their level of mobility, the resources contained within the comparable environment

to undertake similar activities, and the number and types of needs that are required to be fulfilled by the alternative place.

Some places will be more easily substituted than others depending on the types of needs to be fulfilled. Places not easily substituted are those that contain unique biophysical and ecological characteristics supportive of endemic cultures and unique personal significance. For instance, Indigenous relationships to place usually entail deep and abiding emotional, psychological, cultural and spiritual connections that cannot be substituted without an attendant loss of culture, tradition, traditional ecological knowledge, identity and belonging (Davis, 2009). Furthermore, Indigenous peoples typically suffer relative economic and social disadvantage which further constrain relocation possibilities. As climate change trends intensify, however, there is a possibility that populations living in vulnerable environments will be forced to relocate. This is already a reality for some Indigenous communities in low- lying Pacific Atoll nations and in the high Arctic (see, for example: Mooney, 2015, February 24; Rowling, 2014, August 15). However, as this thesis will show, these same issues also apply to Australian farmers living within climate-changed environments. This theme is discussed further in Chapter 8.

2.4.4 The plurality of place Place literatures have been repeatedly criticised for lacking definitional consistency and theoretical integration (Giuliani & Feldman, 1993; Lewicka, 2011; Pretty, Chipuer, & Bramston, 2003). Given the plurality of approaches to place, it is not surprising that there is little, if any, agreement on how place emotions, place identity, and place dependency interrelate (Coles, Millman, & Flannigan, 2013; Graham, Mason, & Newman, 2009). While part of this situation can be explained by inconsistencies that arise between disciplines, (Graham et al., 2009; Patterson & Williams, 2005), it is difficult to account for why there should be such large definitional and conceptual disparities within disciplines (Lewicka, 2011). Despite the recent growth of place as a field of inquiry, such is the confusion regarding the definitional and conceptual basis of place that Lewicka (2011) concludes: “little empirical progress has been made compared to what was known 30-40 years ago” (p. 226).

The confusion surrounding place, its definition, and its conceptual foundations, presents a significant challenge for researchers trying to orientate themselves within a consistent theoretical and methodological framework. To this end, an attempt to embed place within an established theoretical framework of human health and wellbeing, and that

appropriately reflects the complexity and holism of place without adding further to the definitional and conceptual confusion already present in the place literature, is presented in Chapter 3.

2.5 Place and health The previous section highlighted key place qualities and their associated concepts. It can be concluded from this examination that place is more than its physical properties or its potential economic value. Rather, place is an holistic phenomenon embodying various environmental, social and cultural attributes that act to ground webs of human culture, experience, memories and meaning to the Earth (Relph, 2008b). Individuals have the potential to be connected emotionally, psychologically and functionally to places through the course of their everyday experiences. Therefore, events that enhance or degrade meaningful places are likely to resonate emotionally and psychologically for those bonded to them.

Many of the psychological and emotional consequences of a changing climate will stem from the manner it impacts significant places (Albrecht, 2011; Hess et al., 2008). Increasingly, people-place relationships are recognised as important determinates of human mental health and wellbeing (Albrecht, 2005; Albrecht et al., 2007; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Eyles & Williams, 2008; Frumkin, 2003; Hess et al., 2008; Johnston, Jacups, Vickery, & Bowman, 2007; Panelli & Tipa, 2007). Previous research has shown places rich in natural amenity are important for stress reduction and emotional regulation (Kaplan, 1995; Louv, 2005; Ulrich, 1984). Positive relationships to significant and meaningful places (such as home) have also been shown to promote feelings of solace and topophilia (Albrecht, 2005; Albrecht et al., 2007; Tuan, 1974, 1977), improve residents’ quality of life and social connectedness (Eyles & Williams, 2008; Fried, 1963; Manzo, 2008), and to enhance the development of an integrated and positive sense of self (Twigger-Ross & Uzzell, 1996).

While climate change can directly impact an individual’s physical health, a broader understanding of the health risks (and particularly the mental health risks) associated with a changing climate can be achieved by examining relationships between people and place (Fresque-Baxter & Armitage, 2012; Hess et al., 2008; Tschakert et al., 2013). Regarding the relationship between climate change, sense of place and health, Fresque-Baxter and Armitage (2012) argue: “these types of impacts are often gradual, cumulative and intangible, and therefore less directly observable. Yet, they are no less important for understanding the relationship between climate change and health and well-being” (p.

257). It is because of their inconspicuous qualities that the place-related health risks associated with a changing climate are often overlooked in climate-health and climate- adaptation discourses (Adger et al., 2011). However, as will be discussed below, climate change impacts to place are powerful drivers of mental health and wellbeing, particularly amongst highly place-attached residents.

The following discussion examines how climate change has undermined residents’ sense of place, mental health and wellbeing in the contexts of acute weather-related disasters and the chronic and gradual degradation of place. Research conducted in both contexts powerfully illustrate the otherwise hidden significance of place-relationships for residents’ mental health and wellbeing. However, whereas weather-related disasters often have a sudden and violent impact on the physical environment and a readily discernible impact on the mental health of affected residents, the chronic and gradual dimensions of a changing climate are more complex, both in their effect on the physical landscape and on residents’ mental health and wellbeing. This is where ‘sense of place’ finds application for revealing the often obscured and hidden risks to mental health and wellbeing posed by this global agent of change.

2.5.1 Acute weather-related hazards Acute weather-related hazards are perhaps the most conspicuous expressions of a changing climate and the most likely to suddenly alter the places of peoples’ everyday lives (Swim et al., 2009). As anthropogenic global warming intensifies, weather-related hazards such as hurricanes, typhoons, floods, droughts and extreme heat wave events are becoming increasingly frequent and widespread (IPCC, 2013). Whether the result of human actions or natural processes (a distinction that is increasingly blurred in the Anthropocene), such weather-related hazards have the potential to radically alter physical and social landscapes and, as a consequence, destabilise or sever individuals’ sense of place (see, for example: Chamlee-Wright & Storr, 2009; Cox & Perry, 2011; Proudley, 2013; Silver & Grek- Martin, 2015; Tapsell & Tunstall, 2008).

As tragic as it was for those who experienced it firsthand, Hurricane Katrina provided a number of insights into how individuals and communities respond to a sudden and major climate-related crisis. In 2005 Hurricane Katrina smashed into the Gulf coast of the United States. The resulting destruction was unprecedented in American history (Knabb, Rhome, & Brown, 2005). In New Orleans, the city worst affected, approximately 970 people died and 80 percent of the city was flooded (Brunkard, Namulanda, & Ratard, 2008). As a result, a

significant portion of the city’s residents were forced to evacuate. Recovery was slow, and today large sections of the city remain in ruin.

Morbidity and mortality rates from Hurricane Katrina were among the worst of any environmental disaster in American history (Brunkard et al., 2008). Furthermore, the psychological and emotional trauma Hurricane Katrina inflicted upon affected residents was both severe and enduring. In the months and years following Hurricane Katrina, several studies have shown post-traumatic stress symptoms and other psychological disorders to be common amongst adults and children alike (Kessler et al., 2008; Osofsky, Osofsky, Kronenberg, Brennan, & Hansel, 2009). The ensuing relocation effort saw many struggling to adjust to a new location (Hansel, Osofsky, Osofsky, & Friedrich, 2013). Alternatively, many found the process of resettling in a damaged home environment very difficult due to the material hardships faced by returning residents and their lingering memories of trauma (Morrice, 2013).

Out of the destruction and the trauma, Hurricane Katrina presented an opportunity for social scientists to investigate how residents respond to the sudden desolation of a meaningful home and neighbourhood environment. Chamlee-Wright and Storr (2009) found the resulting destruction brought hitherto unrecognised place-meanings to the forefront of residents’ consciousness. The need to recapture the unique and meaningful aspects of their particular neighbourhoods motivated some evacuees to move back to damaged neighbourhoods and take part in the reconstruction effort. For others, the evacuation experience not only entailed a separation from their home environment, but also constituted a disruption to their sense of self. The desire to reclaim their home environment and, with it, a coherent sense of self identity, also motivated some to return despite significant material hardships.

On the other hand, many residents decided not to return. For this group, Hurricane Katrina had fundamentally severed residents’ connection to their former place, and literally and metaphorically swept away characteristics that had made it meaningful to them (Chamlee- Wright & Storr, 2009; Landry, Bin, Hindsley, Whitehead, & Wilson, 2007). Morrice (2013) reported “for some evacuees, [the] overwhelming sense of loss and devastating damage is simply too emotionally distressing to bear. While these evacuees express a desire to return, their decision to relocate is motivated by the crushing loss they have experienced” (p. 38). In a similar weather-related disaster that struck Darwin in 1974, Gordon Milne, a psychologist reviewing the emotional and psychological health of displaced residents in the

aftermath of Cyclone Tracy, concluded former residents who did not return were “mourning a loss which went deeper than deprivation of house, possessions or job … [their trauma] expressed alienation from a physical and social environment which is probably unique in Australia” (cited in Reid, 1996, p. 156).

For those who return after a disaster, the process of resettling and establishing a new sense of place in a profoundly altered homeland can be difficult. For example, both Caurana (2010) and Proudley (2013) show feelings of overwhelming loss and grief were experienced by residents returning to homes ravaged by the 2009 Black Saturday fires in Victoria, Australia. Observed warming and drying trends have produced a greater risk of severe bushfire conditions across southern Australia (Climate Council, 2014b), of which the Black Saturday fires are an example. Among those residents who returned and rebuilt, Proudley encounters a sense of ‘unsettledness’ as residents try to renegotiate new relationships to a homeland desolated by fire. Losses in the material environment are reflected in resident’s sense of personal loss and dislocation. As one returned resident states:

But it’s sterile, it’s still sterile now. The worst thing about – I don’t know, everyday it’s a different worse thing, but one of the most difficult things about losing everything in a fire, and I guess people lose to house fires all the time, but it totally changed everything about our place, not just the inside, not just the house, not just our stuff, but all our history. Basically it just wiped us, for the last 14 years, off the planet (Proudley, 2013 p. 13).

Weather-related disasters, whether they are hurricanes, bushfires or any other acute expressions of a changing climate, eventually come to an end. However, their effect on people and places can be severe and enduring. As the residents in Proudley’s (2013) study demonstrate, the process of resettling entails the creation of new place-meanings, identities and attachments to a landscape that has been swept of its past meanings and memories. Even for those who have not endured a physical displacement from a meaningful and loved place, disasters and other events that radically transform the material environment have the potential to disrupt people’s attachments to place and place-based identities. Considering weather-related disasters are likely to become increasingly violent and widespread into the future as global warming intensifies, a growing number of people will be exposed to the same emotional and psychological devastation encountered by the victims of Hurricane Katrina and the Black Saturday bushfires.

2.5.2 Longer-term climate change In addition to weather-related disasters, climate change also entails various gradual and cumulative impacts on climate-sensitive environments. Rising sea levels, shifting precipitation patterns and changes in the timing of seasonal weather events are some of the unfolding features of a changing climate that have the potential to transform physical environments and destabilise or sever place-based relationships. Discerning the influence of the gradual and cumulative aspects of climate change on the sense of place and mental wellbeing of residents living in climate-sensitive environments is, perhaps, a subtler affair than doing so amongst victims of acute weather-related disasters. Whereas acute weather disasters have obvious and immediate impacts on physical and social landscapes, the gradual dimensions of a changing climate impact people and places across longer time frames and through various complex, and potentially obscured, pathways of risk.

An example of the risks posed to people and places by the gradual and cumulative dimensions of a changing climate can be found in the high North. The Arctic region is the ancestral homeland of several Indigenous groups including the Inuit. The Inuit are Indigenous peoples with a millennia-old history on the northern landscapes of present day Alaska, Canada and Greenland. They are also among the first people to witness, and be negatively affected by, unfolding climate change. Global warming is occurring at a disproportionate rate at the Poles (IPCC, 2013). The Arctic environment has experienced two to three degrees (°C) of warming over the last half century and is currently one of the fastest warming regions on Earth (Adger et al., 2011a). Having lost a significant portion of its sea ice and permafrost cover, the Arctic environment has been fundamentally transformed by anthropogenic global warming (IPCC, 2013).

Over the last decade, a growing body of research has described, in detail, the health impacts of a changing climate on Indigenous populations in the high North (e.g. Bell, Brubaker, Graves, & Berner, 2010; Cunsolo Willox, Harper, Edge, 'My Word": Storytelling and Digital Media Lab, & Rigolet Inuit Community Government, 2012b; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2013; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a; Durkalec, Furgal, Skinner, & Sheldon, 2015; Ford et al., 2014; Furgal & Seguin, 2006; Harper, Edge, Cunsolo Willox, & Rigolet Inuit Community Government, 2012; Harper et al., 2015). As a people who retain close living, working cultural and spiritual connections to the Earth, the Inuit, along with other Indigenous populations who retain these relationships, are at the frontline of climate change and its associated health risks (Albrecht, 2011; Green, King, & Morrision, 2009; IPCC, 2014). Observed warming trends and their associated impacts on terrestrial

and marine environments are producing complex socio-economic and cultural adaptive challenges for the Inuit. As the permafrost melts and the sea ice contracts, the Inuit’s ability to engage in hunting and gathering activities is restricted, thereby undermining a significant part of the Inuit’s semi-subsistence economy (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011). In addition, local infrastructure anchored in the melting permafrost is becoming increasingly unstable, and some coastal places of residence once protected from violent oceanic storms by thick layers of sea ice have become vulnerable to inundation (Albrecht, 2011).

A vital component of Inuit culture is their detailed knowledge of weather, seasons and landscape. However, rapid anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change are invalidating the Inuit’s millennia-old traditional ecological knowledge of their ancestral environment, producing feelings of confusion, disorientation and frustration (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012). In response, some Inuit communities have developed new concepts in their language to describe the unwelcomed changes they are observing in their home environment. For example, the Inuit of Baffin Island now use the term “uggianaqtuq” - a word once used to describe a friend acting strangely or unpredictably - to describe the loss of pattern and order in their local climate and the resultant feelings of dislocation and dis-ease it produces in their community (Albrecht, 2011; Fox, 2004).

The breakdown of pattern and order in the home environment is also disrupting cultural activities that reaffirm bonds between people, place and culture. As Cunsolo Willox et al. (2011) and Cunsolo Willox et al. (2012) report, hunting for seals on the sea ice is a significant part of male hunters’ self-identity and self-esteem. The ability of Inuit hunters to negotiate their environment, reach traditional hunting grounds, and to engage in successful hunts, is diminishing as the sea ice melts, thereby undermining hunters’ sense of self-worth and promoting a sense of frustration, anger and despair. On land, the melting permafrost is restricting peoples’ movements across their ancestral lands, thus preventing the Inuit from reaching significant cultural sites. For a people whose daily life and cultural identity are predicated on the ability to travel their homelands, understand intimately the rhythms and patterns of their environment, and to participate in cultural activities upon the land and sea, the transformation of terrestrial environments and the loss of former seascapes undermine the Inuit’s ability to participate in a traditional way of life, to maintain a coherent social order, and to retain a positive sense of self identity.

Climate change comes on top of various other socio-cultural and economic stressors that historically have placed Inuit people at a higher risk of mental health and physical health burden in comparison to non-Indigenous Canadians (Ford, Berrand-Ford, King, & Furgal, 2010; Frohlich, Ross, & Richmond, 2006; Lehti, Niemela, Hoven, Mandel, & Sourander, 2009; Richmond & Ross, 2009). Furthermore, the Inuit are grappling with new forms of environmentally-induced distress: environmentally-induced feelings of sadness, fear, anxiety, depression, anger and distress are emerging indicators of the distress felt by those living within climate-desolated landscapes. As a result, new place-related health concepts such as ‘solastalgia’ have found application in describing and conceptualising the Inuit’s lived experience of place-based distress (Albrecht, 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al,. 2012). This speaks to the necessity of meeting new climate-produced mental health risks with new health-related understandings and concepts.

As the Inuit’s’ sense of belonging and sense of identity come increasingly under threat from anthropogenic global warming and climate change, fear of the future weighs heavily with old and young alike (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012). Displacement from traditional ancestral lands has already occurred amongst some northern Indigenous peoples (such as the Yu’ik Eskimos of southwest Alaska) and is likely to be a fate shared by others. Relocation, as an adaptive strategy, entails various complex logistical, economic, and technical considerations. However, relocation, as an adaptive strategy, when it is enforced upon residents either through the mandate of urban renewal (e.g. Fried, 1963; Fullilove, 2009; Greene et al, 2011) or necessitated by disasters (e.g. Hurricane Katrina) also entails various forms of place-based distress for relocated individuals as they grieve for lost places and struggle to reorientate themselves within new and unfamiliar surroundings. If colonial histories of Indigenous dispossession serve as an analogue of the effects of future climate- driven dislocation, pervasive climatic change will condemn Indigenous people to further socio-cultural disadvantage, exacerbate current rates of language and culture loss, and further extinguish unique expressions of the human imagination (Davis, 2009; Rapport & Maffi, 2011).

2.5.3 New frontiers for place-health research The displacement and dislocation of the Inuit and other Indigenous peoples from the high North will become more common as Arctic landscapes become increasingly unfit for human habitation. Without significant adaptation, chronic place-based distress will come to define the Inuit experience. Owing to the non-linear physics underlying climate change, even if

significant reductions in greenhouse gas emissions are immediately achieved, lag effects ensure the climate will remain “uggianaqtuq” into the foreseeable future.

As anthropogenic global warming and climate change trends continue to intensify, the Inuit experience of place-based distress is likely to be reproduced amongst others living in close relation to climate-sensitive environments. Research conducted amongst Torres Strait Islanders (McNamara & Westoby, 2011), Pacific Islanders (Adger et al., 2011a), and African rural poor (Tschakert et al., 2013) corroborate the Inuit experience of chronic climate- induced place-based distress. If we are to better understand the mental health impacts of a changing climate, and to develop measures to mitigate such impacts, then further research is required that examines connections between climate change, sense of place, health and wellbeing in place-specific contexts. As Cunsolo Willox et al. (2012) argue “it is important for health researchers and practitioners to understand the way in which individuals and communities in specific regions identify with and connect to place, and respond to [climatic and environmental] changes physically, mentally and emotionally” (p. 545).

To date, the experiences of non-Indigenous and relatively affluent populations living in close union with natural environments subject to significant climatic change have been underrepresented in climate-health discourses. However, a notable exception is provided by Tschekart et al. (2013) who examined the emotional and psychological responses of rural Ghanaians to the gradual degradation of their homelands unfolding as a result of climate change. The authors found residents’ lived experience of withered crops, drying wells, loss of beauty and deteriorating social networks produced environmentally-induced feelings of sadness and grief consistent with Albrecht’s (2005) notion of ‘solastalgia’. Similar to calls by Cunsolo Willox et al. (2012), the authors argue local, national, and international resource managers, rural educators, and policy makers must recognise the emotions of place-based distress in discussions of climate change risk and adaptation.

The question posed in this thesis is whether Australian farmers living in increasingly climate-degraded environments share a similar experience of place-based distress? Australia has emerged as a region particularly vulnerable to anthropogenic global warming and climate change. Furthermore, Australian agriculture, as an industry, is highly exposed to climate risks given the unique ecological, climatic and economic characteristics of the Australian context. A key proposition of this thesis is that Indigenous experiences of chronic climate-induced, place-based distress provide an analogue for understanding how Australian farmers are responding emotionally and psychologically to a changing climate. In

the next section I review current understandings of Australian farmers’ sense of place and argue further research is needed in this area if we are to have a fuller understanding of the mental health risks posed by a climate change amongst Australia’s farming population.

2.6 Place-related health in the Australian agricultural context Australian agricultural systems are very sensitive to long-term climatic conditions and year- to-year variability (Stokes & Howden, 2010; Sheng et al., 2011). The Australian climate is one of the most variable on Earth (Hennessy et al., 2008) and is becoming increasingly so due to anthropogenic global warming and climate change (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2014; Steffen, Hughes, & Perkins, 2014). A majority of Australia’s agricultural industries are located across the southern half of the Australian continent - a region that has experienced significant warming and drying over recent decades (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2014, 2015). Farming enterprises in this region consist predominately of rainfed broadacre systems, specialising in cereal and sheep production (Turner, 2011). Modelling suggests production of Australia’s major agricultural commodities will be adversely impacted by further warming and drying trends in some regions (Farre, Foster, & Asseng, 2009; Ludwig & Asseng, 2006).

Historically, Australian farmers have had to grapple with environmental stressors unique to the Australian context. In addition to responding to one of the most variable climates on Earth, farmers have had to contend with Australia’s nutrient deficient soils (Hopper, 2009) and, more recently, with multiple and often intractable forms of human-caused environmental degradation, such as secondary salinity, soil acidification, chemical resistant weeds, wind and water erosion, biodiversity loss and ecosystem fragmentation (Beresford, Bekle, Phillips, & Mulcock, 2001; Hopper, 2009; Young, 1996). Over time, Australian farmers have negotiated the vagaries of the Australian environment to become among the most efficient and technologically sophisticated agricultural producers in the world (Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, n.d.). However, the scale and pace at which climate change is occurring constitutes a significant adaptive challenge for Australian farmers already contending with multiple forms of environmental degradation and social disadvantage (Stokes & Howden, 2010). Agricultural experts now argue some aspects of the industry will have to undergo ‘transformational adaptation’ in order to survive impending climate change (Marshall et al., 2013a; Marshall, Park, Adger, Brown, & Howden, 2012; Rickards & Howden, 2012). This will include the relocation of established but increasingly unproductive and unviable agricultural regions to more hospital environments, and a fundamental restructuring of farmers’ relationships to their

communities and farming properties as new business and ownership models are pursued. These topics will be discussed further in Chapter 8.

2.6.1 Australian farmers’ mental health In addition to the agronomic and financial challenges of climate adaptation, concern has mounted for the mental health and wellbeing of farmers living within climate-changed environments. Australian farmers already suffer disproportionally high rates of suicide and mental health burden compared with metropolitan populations (Andersen, Hawgood, Klieve, Kolves, & De Leo, 2010; Berry, Hogan, Owen, Rickwood, & Fragar, 2011a; Miller & Burns, 2008; Page & Fragar, 2002). Furthermore, farmers are subject to various physical and mental health risks unique in Australian society. As Brumby, Chandrasekara, McCoombe, Kremer, and Lewandowski (2011) explain “rural Australians face an environment of high occupational hazards, poor access to services, higher mental health burden, vulnerability to adverse climatic conditions, socio-economic constraints, food insecurity, alcohol misuse and an increasing burden of chronic disease” (p. 89).

Part of the concern for Australian farmers living with a changing climate stems from previous research that has linked climate adversity to poor mental health outcomes. The health and wellbeing of primary producers, according to Waltner-Toews and Wall (1997) “becomes a more complex topic than it might be for their urban counterparts because of the need to include, explicitly, the non-human, ecological context in their considerations of health” (p. 1741). Although all human communities coevolve with their natural environment, farming communities are particularly dependent upon the natural environment for their social and economic sustainability. The socio-cultural impacts of adverse environmental conditions resonate strongly within farming communities and have a disproportionate effect on the health and wellbeing of rural peoples as compared with metropolitan residents (O'Brien, Berry, Coleman, & Hanigan, 2014).

In Australia, the linkages between environmental adversity and farmers’ mental health and wellbeing have been most extensively examined in the context of drought. Drought is a natural part of the Australian climate; however, as global warming trends intensify, so does the potential for longer and more severe drought events (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2014; Kiem & Austin, 2013). The ‘Millennium Drought’, the longest and most severe drought of the last century (1997 to 2009), is a contemporary example of this trend (South Eastern Australian Climate Initiative, 2011). As such, drought studies provide insights into

how Australian farmers’ mental health is likely to be impacted by worsening climate change (Berry et al., 2011a).

Multiple studies have identified drought to act as a significant mental health stressor for Australian farmers (e.g. Alston & Kent, 2008; Berry et al., 2011a; King, Lane, MacDougall, & Greenhill, 2009; Rickards, 2011; Sartore, Kelly, Stain, Albrecht, & Higginbotham, 2008; Stain et al., 2011). Drought is a complex socio-ecological stressor that detrimentally impacts farmers’ environmental, social and financial contexts (Alston & Kent, 2004, 2008; Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008). Previous research has shown farmers’ psychological distress and rates of suicide are positively correlated with drought (Edwards, Gray, & Hunter, 2008; Hanigan, Butler, Kokic, & Hutchinson, 2012; Nicholls, Butler, & Hanigan, 2006; Stain et al., 2011), as are feelings of hopelessness, despair and fears for the future (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008). Drought has also been linked with an elevated risk of clinically defined psychopathologies (e.g. anxiety and depression) amongst farmers and farming families (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Sartore et al., 2008) and has been shown to undermine family and social relationships in rural communities (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008).

In addition to drought, Australian farmers now have to contend with an elevated rate of inter-seasonal and intra-seasonal variability. The latter consists of an increased frequency of extreme weather events, such as heatwaves, heavy precipitation and drought (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2014) to which rural Australia is particularly vulnerable (Bi & Parton, 2008). The former entails greater climatic variability from season to season. For instance, a study by Rickards (2011) investigated the impact of extreme climatic variability on the health and wellbeing of farming families in northwest Victoria from 2008 through to 2010. The region had experienced crippling drought followed by flooding rains. Rickards found a majority of farming families managed to remain farming throughout the drought by depleting their physical and financial assets, only to then suffer a greater loss from flooding in the following year. As a result of multiple years of extreme climate variation, Rickards reported farmers’ emotional health and their confidence in the future had diminished significantly.

Extreme climatic variability, particularly when it occurs with various other environmental, social, and economic pressures, has been shown to constrain farmers’ decision-making which then may further exacerbate the health risks posed by climatic adversity (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Kilpatrick, Willis, Peek, & Johns, 2013). In turn,

poor physical and mental health has been shown to limit farmers’ capacity to adapt, and respond to, difficult environmental conditions (Berry, Hogan, Peng Ng, & Parkinson, 2011b). When faced with such circumstances, a pathological feedback loop may emerge in which poor mental health outcomes limits farmers’ adaptive capacity, which then further undermines farmers’ health and wellbeing. In addition, other forms of environmental degradation such as dry-land salinity (Speldewinde, Cook, Davies, & Weinstein, 2009) and ecosystem loss (Rogan, O'Connor, & Horwitz, 2005) have also been shown to adversely impact upon farmers’ emotional and psychological wellbeing. These environmental stressors are also likely to constrain farmers’ ability to cope with, and respond to, a changing climate.

The majority of prior research examining the mental health risks of drought and other forms of climatic and environmental adversity to Australian farmers has stressed socio- economic pathways to mental health risk. As Berry et al. (2011b) explains:

Climate variability contributes to socio-economic vulnerability through its impacts on productive capacity and therefore income. Stressors associated with the unpredictability of climate and income in turn contribute to mental health vulnerability (p. 4040).

Others have highlighted pre-existing forms of structural socio-economic disadvantage, such as lack of access to mental health facilities and social isolation, as factors exacerbating farmers’ mental health vulnerability to climate and environmental adversity (Brumby et al., 2011). Furthermore, various cultural mores have been identified which have also been argued to exacerbate farmers’ vulnerability to climate change risks. Some of these include ‘rural masculinity’, ‘stoicism’ and a belief in ‘rugged independence’ (Alston, 2012; Alston & Kent, 2008; Bryant & Garnham, 2014).

Taken together, previous studies into Australian farmers’ mental health and wellbeing indicate that farmers are particularly exposed and vulnerable to the mental health risks associated with a changing climate. These risks, however, are not straightforward. Rather, the degree to which farmers are exposed and vulnerable to health-related climate change risks is likely to be mediated by various environmental, social, economic and cultural factors. As such, climate change will neither impact all farmers equally nor through the same mechanisms of risk.

2.6.2 Australian farmers’ sense of place Although climatic adversity has been shown to negatively impact farmers’ mental health and wellbeing through various economic, social and cultural pathways, previous research has tended to underrepresent farmers’ sense of place as a potential pathway of climate- health risk. In fact, beyond colloquial and anecdotal accounts, little is known about Australian farmers’ valuations and perceptions of their farming environments. This is surprising considering family farming is by far the most common form of agricultural enterprise in Australia (Australian Bureau of Statistics, n.d. cited in Fragar, Henderson, Morton, & Pollock, 2008). The lack of consideration given to farmers’ sense of place is not only limited to the Australian context, but is also a concern to international geographic inquiry:

Geographers have historically emphasised the importance of place in shaping individual identity (e.g. Cresswell, 1996; Tuan, 1977) but, somewhat surprisingly, the relationship between farmers and their property has received little empirical or theoretical attention either within or beyond the discipline (Johnsen, 2004, p. 426).

Despite a lack of explicit attention, an initial impression of Australian farmers’ sense of place can be gained by piecing together a disparate literature examining various issues related to the Australian farming experience.

Previous research examining ageing in rural Australia has shown older farmers’ attachments to the farm to be an important part of their self-identity, health and wellbeing (Foskey, 2005; Gullifer & Thompson, 2006; Kilpatrick et al., 2013; Rogers, Barr, O'Callaghan, Brumby, & Warburton, 2013; Wythes & Lyons, 2006). Ageing in place is a particularly salient issue in the context of Australian family farming: the median age of Australian farmers is now 53 years (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2012a) and is expected to rise as the participation rate of younger people in the agricultural workforce further declines. As explained by Gullifer and Thompson (2006), the ability of older farmers to retire on their farming properties facilitates positive psychological and emotional health outcomes:

Attachment to place affords independence by defining a unique space that is controlled by the aged farmer. The farm is a space for the men to pursue their personal interests. It is a vital facet of self-identity that matures with age. Attachment to place helps to define the distinct culture that is valued by ageing farmers and nourishes them psychologically as they age (p. 91).

In the context of drought, sense of place has also been shown to be positively correlated with farmers’ drought-related stress (Stain et al., 2011). This led the authors to conclude “for those with a strong connection to the land, it is especially stressful due to the confrontation with the environmental degradation [caused by drought]” (Stain et al., 2011, p. 1598). Stain’s and colleague’s conclusions are supported by an earlier study by Sartore et al. (2008) in which farmers’ drought-related stress was found to be related, in part, to the physical degradation of the home environment. In addition, the authors highlight the lack of separation between the home and work environments on the farm compounded farmers’ experiences of drought-related stress.

With regard to farmers’ ability to cope with environmental adversity, farmers’ attachment to the farming property has been implicated as both a source of resilience and vulnerability. For instance, farmers’ connection to the land has been shown to enhance their emotional resilience in the face of multiple climatic and environmental stressors (Hegney et al., 2007). The authors note that some participants perceive the land as resilient, and owing to their close connection to it, perceive themselves as part of the ‘resilience cycle’. In contrast, an expert panel examining the social impacts of ‘dryness’ and the efficacy of Australia’s drought-related policies found many farmers are willing to fight to remain on the farm despite enduring significant financial and social hardship (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008). The panel concluded policies designed to assist farmers’ exit from the industry that neglect farmers’ emotional and psychological bonds to their properties are ill-conceived. As the authors explain:

There are many farmers who are psychologically attached to their property and policy measures, such as exit assistance, are largely unwanted, nor are incentives to move to another profession. Many farmers are more than willing to continue suffering varying degrees of social deprivation to maintain their generational bond to the property. Some male farmers are clearly putting the land before themselves and their families with a belief that the wellbeing of themselves and families should only be addressed once the wellbeing of the farm is attended. The Panel sense there are lessons for government on how this issue could be progressed if they sought a greater appreciation of those individuals and families who strike the balance between attachment to the land and alternative incomes (Expert Social Panel, 2008, p. 11).

In the context of climate adaptation, research conducted amongst Australian peanut producers and rangeland beef farmers operating in climate-sensitive environments

demonstrate farmers’ attachment to their properties and to their broader communities to be significant barriers to farmers’ willingness to relocate (Marshall et al., 2013a; Marshall et al., 2012; Marshall & Stokes, 2014a). In further research conducted amongst beef graziers in Northern Australia, Lankester (2013) tease out sense of place themes that both promote adaptation or vulnerability to climate change. Lankester concludes that farmers with a sense of belonging to the family farm and who were interested in the business side of the enterprise were more likely to be flexible and responsive to changing socio-ecological circumstances than farmers who had deep rooted connections to place. Given the relationships found to exist between farmers’ mental health/wellbeing and their adaptive capacity (Berry et al., 2011b), studies examining farmers’ sense of place and its impact on their adaptive capacity have potential relevance in the discussion of farmers’ climate change-related mental health vulnerabilities.

2.6.3 Rationale for the present study As evidenced by these studies, farmers’ emotional and psychological relationships to their farm environments exert considerable influence on their emotional and psychological states, as well as their decision-making and adaptive capacity. Examination of farmers’ sense of place not only helps to explain farmers’ emotional and psychological reactions to environmental adversity (e.g. Stain et al., 2011; Sartore et al., 2008), it also highlights how farmers may respond to further changes in their socio-ecological context - whether they are climate-driven or otherwise (e.g. Lankester, 2012; Marshall et al., 2012; Marshall et al., 2013). However, these studies do not come without criticism. There is no consistent use of the terms ‘sense of place’ or ‘place attachment.’ In some of the aforementioned studies, farmers’ sense of place refers to emotional and psychological attachments to the farming property (e.g. Rogers et al., 2013; Gullifer & Thompson, 2006; Lankester, 2013), while in others it refers to a sense of connectedness to the land (e.g. Stain et al., 2008; Stain et al., 2011). For others still, ‘place’ was not specified but presumably was taken to mean land under the control of the individual farmer (Marshall et al., 2012; Marshall et al., 2013). Furthermore, these studies, for the most part, forgo the complexity of place for simplified quantitative measures, and neither do they attempt to integrate their findings within broader theoretical perspectives of place and place-related health and wellbeing. It must be noted though, that these may be undue criticisms of a literature whose purpose was not to investigate farmers’ sense of place per se, but rather to examine various other issues pertinent to the Australian family farming experience. Taken together, however, the aforementioned literature provides a substantial platform from which this thesis can build.

It is likely that as climate change trends intensify across Australia’s agricultural regions, an understanding of how family farmers react and respond to a changing climate will find increasing application in rural public health and agricultural adaptation policy. It is for these reasons that further investigation of Australian family farmers’ sense of place is required.

2.7 Chapter summary This chapter has presented evidence supporting the argument that ‘sense of place’ needs to be included in the assessment of the health risks associated with a changing climate. Understanding how people are connected to place is vital for appreciating how individuals and communities respond emotionally and psychologically to climate change and transforming biophysical environments. While these issues have been investigated amongst victims of weather-related disasters, Indigenous peoples experiencing unfolding climate change, and amongst Africa’s rural poor, place-based distress has the potential to impact any population with deep and abiding relationships to a home environment undergoing a negatively perceived transformation. In Australia, family farmers are on the frontline of climate change risks. Previous research has shown family farmers’ mental health to be tightly coupled with the vagaries of the Australian climate and to the biophysical health and integrity of their farming environments. To date, however, little research has systematically investigated the relationship between climate change, sense of place, and Australian family farmers’ mental health and wellbeing. The purpose of this thesis, therefore, is to expand pre-existing understandings of Australian family farmers’ health to consider what role sense of place has in the determination of farmers’ emotional and psychological health and wellbeing in an era of rapid climate change.

Given the complexity of place and the various disputes regarding its definition and investigation, the next chapter examines the metaphysical and theoretical foundations of place and articulates a theoretical approach consistent with the aims and goals of this research.

Chapter 3: Theoretical considerations ______

3.1 Introduction Despite the rapid growth in place research over recent years, there remains a great deal of confusion surrounding the investigation of place and sense of place (Lewicka, 2011). Given the complexities inherent within both concepts, there appears to be an almost inexhaustible number of ways to theorise, conceptualise and methodologically approach relationships between people and place. Although introduced as a topic of popular inquiry some forty years ago by pioneering humanistic geographers Yi Fu Tuan (1974, 1977) and Edward Relph (1976), there are legitimate concerns that this area of inquiry has not progressed as it should. Mired in definitional disputes and fragmented research agendas, the body of place research has been described as fragmented and disjointed, and has been criticised for lacking clear purpose or direction (Lewicka, 2011; Patterson & Williams, 2005; Pretty et al., 2003; Stedman, 2002). As will be discussed in this chapter, these problems not only reflect surface level tensions between researchers arguing the finer points of methodological precision, but also reveal deeper tensions operating between competing visions of reality and theories of knowledge (Patterson & Williams, 2005).

In the context of competing visions of reality and claims to knowledge, there is a clear need to engage critically with the metaphysical and theoretical premises underlying the research process. This chapter begins by highlighting some of the methodological and paradigmatic points of tension in the place literature. From this review, I argue for a critical realist approach to place. Critical realism is argued to offer advantages over other metaphysical approaches to place due to its ability to engage concomitantly with the biophysical and social realities of place, and farmers’ sense of place. Following this, an ecohealth theoretical framework is outlined based on the principles of ‘systems thinking’, ‘transdisciplinarity’ and ‘participation’. The ecohealth approach locates human health and wellbeing at the centre of complex relationships between society and environment, and considers human health and ecosystem resilience as fundamentally interrelated (e.g. Albrecht et al., 2008; Berbes-Blazquez et al., 2014; Charron, 2012; Rapport, 2002, 2007; Rapport & Maffi, 2011; Wilcox et al., 2004). It is for these reasons that an ecohealth approach is argued to provide an appropriate theoretical framework for the purposes of this thesis. The chapter then concludes with a critical examination of previous research that has adopted an ecohealth approach to place-related health issues.

3.2 Confusion in the place literature ‘Place’ remains an enigmatic domain of inquiry. As a concept, ‘place’ displays a chameleon- like ability to be adapted to a seemingly endless array of theoretical and methodological perspectives. This is partly due to the complexity of place. More than just a locatable point on the surface of the Earth, place speaks to all the environmental qualities and values of a particular locality (Vanclay, 2008). Places are as material as they are immaterial; as personal as they are cultural; and are as much a part of everyday experience as they are held in personal and collective memory. It has been written that places underlie an inextricable part of our own self-concept (Antonsich, 2010; Casey, 1997; Devine-Wright & Clayton, 2010; Proshansky et al., 1983); give potential to human experience (Casey, 1997; Malpas, 1999); and connect our woven webs of culture to the Earth (Relph, 2008b). Due to its nebulous and complex nature, it is perhaps unsurprising to find that the definition of place requires a full five pages in the Oxford English Dictionary (Malpas, 1999), or that some scholars consider place to be “one of the trickiest words in the English language, a suitcase so overfilled that one can never shut the lid” (Hayden, 1997, p. 112).

Likewise, how personal relationships to place should be conceptualised remains a disputed area. ‘Sense of place’ is but one of myriad terms developed to describe people-place relations. Others include: place attachment (Altman & Low, 1992), sense of belonging and sense of community (Pretty et al., 2003), rootedness and insidedness (Relph, 1976), topophilia (Tuan, 1974), solastalgia (Albrecht, 2005; Albrecht et al., 2007), nostalgia (Hofer, 1934), place identity (Proshansky et al., 1983), place identification (Uzzell et al., 2002), environmental identity (Clayton, 2011; Clayton & Opotow, 2003) and place satisfaction (Stedman, 2003). Developed across various disciplines, there is little consensus regarding how these concepts should be defined, how they relate to one another, or how their experience is related to the physical environment (Gunderson & Watson, 2007; Lewicka, 2011; Stedman, 2003).

Further, as interest in people-place relations grows, so does the potential for new tensions and disagreements to emerge. Lewicka (2011) demonstrated in her voluminous review of the literature that 60 percent of all place research was published in the last decade. Place is now a key area of inquiry for numerous disciplinary areas, including humanistic geography, environmental sociology, rural sociology, social impact assessment, environmental psychology, environmental health, environmental economics, landscape management, architecture, anthropology, philosophy, forestry science, natural resource management, urban and regional planning, environmental history, and cultural studies (Vanclay, 2008).

Each discipline has contributed to the theoretical development and empirical investigation of people-place relations, expanding considerably the application of ‘place’ to various research domains and areas of inquiry. However, as the breadth of place research continues to grow, place runs the risk of becoming so inclusive that it is effectively stripped of its meaning (Relph, 2008b).

Evidence of a diversity of approaches and theoretical perspectives is not necessarily an indication of a problem in the progression of social scientific knowledge. As is often the case, new areas of inquiry have the potential to attract various competing hypotheses, methodological approaches, and theoretical perspectives that, over time, become refined as the range of conceptual and theoretical possibilities become reduced via a process of rigorous hypothesis testing and elimination (Altman & Low, 1992). However, after forty years of inquiry, it would seem systematic knowledge of place and people-place relationships has not become any clearer. In reviewing the literature, there remains a great deal of confusion regarding the definition of key constructs, the adoption of methodological approaches, and how to integrate findings within larger theoretical frameworks (see Devine-Wright & Clayton, 2010; Lewicka, 2011; Lin & Lockwood, 2013; Manzo, 2003; Patterson & Williams, 2005).

Through the 1990s and early 2000s several attempts were made at resolving some of these issues by developing constructs that were thought to fit together within a single relational framework. Underlying these attempts was the assumption that a greater level of operational specificity would provide a greater level of conceptual clarity (e.g. Jorgensen & Stedman, 2001; Kaltenborn, 1998; Lalli, 1992; Shamai, 1991; Stedman, 2002). One of the most salient examples from this era of place research is provided by Jorgensen and Stedman (2001). Using a 12-item scale, the authors attempted to construct a multidimensional model of sense of place. Using multivariate statistical procedures, the authors concluded ‘sense of place’ to be a supraordinate structure consisting of cognitive (place identity), affective (place attachment) and functional (place dependence) elements, a conclusion reiterated in a later paper (Jorgensen & Stedman, 2006).

Such approaches are useful in that, when applied consistently, specific hypotheses can be developed and tested (Stedman, 2002). However, there is little evidence to suggest that such frameworks have been adopted in a consistent manner, or that similarly quantitative approaches have been implemented with the same degree of methodological rigour. The use of single-item measures of place-concepts is not uncommon (e.g. Dallago et al., 2009;

Pretty et al., 2003; Shamai & Ilatov, 2005), and there appears to be a tendency to develop one’s own models instead of building upon the models of others (Anton & Lawrence, 2014; Lewicka, 2011). As a result, a range of conflicting positions has developed. For some, ‘place attachment’ is argued to be the overarching organising principle for all people-place concepts (e.g. Bricker & Kerstetter, 2000; Gattino, De Piccoli, Fassio, & Rollero, 2013; Ramkissoon, Smith, & Weiler, 2013; Rollero & De Piccoli, 2010; Scannell & Gifford, 2010). For others, there appeared to be little attempt to separate sense of place or place attachment (Eisenhauer, Krannich, & Blahna, 2000), nor to delineate place attachment, place identity and place dependence (e.g. Vaske & Korbin, 2001; Vorkinn & Riese, 2001; Warzecha & Lime, 2001; Williams & Vaske, 2003; Zhang, Zhang, Zhang, & Cheng, 2014).

Complicating the issue further, researchers operating in different disciplinary traditions often reject entirely the very premise that people-place relationships can be subjected to reductionist modes of inquiry. For instance, phenomenologically-orientated researchers of place, such as Relph (1976) and later Seamon (1987), disputed the capacity of reductionist procedures to engage with the complexity of place as a “psycho-social-environmental whole larger than the sum of its parts” (Seamon, 1987, p. 20). As Relph states, “[place] is not just a formal concept awaiting a precise definition […] clarification cannot be achieved by imposing precise but arbitrary definitions (1976, p. 4). More recently, Gunderson and Watson (2007) argue “the person’s whole relationship to a location cannot be dissected in a quantitative, reductionist manner and then put back together in order to understand in a holistic way the level of emotional disruption due to a disturbance event” (p. 710). For these researchers, and others (e.g. Franck, 1987; Gieryn, 2000; Malpas, 1999; Patterson & Williams, 2005), the diversity of approaches to place makes it impossible to summarise within a single relational framework.

For Patterson and Williams (2005), these sorts of methodological disputes reflect deeper tensions operating between competing research paradigms. It is largely understood that different disciplines subscribe to different normative assumptions with respect to the nature of science and the world more generally (Kuhn, 1996). These often implicitly-held assumptions shape the manner in which research problems are formulated, what research methods are deemed legitimate, and how scientific ‘progress’ is defined (Crotty, 1998; Patterson & Williams, 2005). In a thorough review of the place literature, Patterson and Williams show that many paradigmatic perspectives have shaped the conceptual and methodological development of place (particularly ‘psychometrics’ and ‘phenomenology’).

However, the authors argue that there has been a tendency for place researchers to mix divergent paradigms with the assumption that place constitutes a single ‘research program.’ Mixing incommensurable research paradigms can produce conceptual and methodological inconsistencies which then can lead to the development of intractable disputes between researchers operating within different research traditions.

In response, Patterson and Williams (2005) call for a ‘critical pluralist’ approach to place. A critical pluralist approach recognises that no one theoretical or methodological approach can fully grasp the complexity of place or all of its facets (Patterson & Williams, 2005; Williams, 2014a,b). This is a sentiment most clearly articulated by the phenomenological philosopher Jeff Malpas who states:

The fact that place possesses such a variously complex structure, and is capable of presenting itself in such differentiated and multiple ways, leads to an inevitable multiplicity in the ways in which place can be grasped and understood: place may be viewed in terms that emphasise the concrete features of the natural landscape; that give priority to certain social or cultural features; or that emphasise place purely as experienced […] no such single way of grasping place can exhaust its complexity nor can any such way entirely ignore that complexity (1999, p. 173).

Given the complexity of place and its ability to present itself in various ways, a critical pluralist perspective suggests the researcher is essentially free to pursue their own theoretical and methodological agenda. However, as Williams (2014a) warns, a critical pluralist approach does not dismiss the need for critical reflection upon the appropriateness of the methods employed for achieving the stated goals and objectives of a given research project. In the context of multiple and various methodological possibilities, the researcher must engage critically with their theoretical and methodological choices, and acknowledge at all times that different paradigmatic, theoretical, and methodological alternatives exist (Patterson & Williams, 2005; Williams, 2014). As Braun and Clarke (2008) argue, without this critical self-reflection with regard to the assumptions underlying the research process, and the appropriateness of a particular approach to engage with a specific problem domain, it is difficult to then evaluate the merit of an individual research finding or synthesise it within broader theoretical frameworks. Indeed, it is the lack of critical reflection upon one’s own paradigmatic assumptions and those of others that Patterson and Williams (2005) argue to have contributed to the methodological,

definitional and theoretical confusion in the place literature and the overall lack of progress made into this area of inquiry over the last forty years.

It is therefore vitally important that researchers of people-place relations make their paradigmatic assumptions transparent. This allows individual findings to be evaluated and subsequently synthesised within commensurate paradigmatic structures (Patterson & Williams, 2005). The remainder of this chapter provides an overview of my metaphysical and theoretical positions. This then provides the basis for my methodological decisions described in Chapter 4. At all stages I wish to demonstrate the internal consistency of my chosen metaphysical, theoretical and methodological choices and their appropriateness for addressing the aims and purposes of this thesis.

3.3 Critical realism Researchers bring with them assumptions about the world that shape the manner in which research problems are formulated and subsequently investigated (Sayer, 2000). Various assumptions relating to the nature of reality (ontology) and theory of knowledge (epistemology) have had an indelible influence on the theoretical and methodological development of place (see, for examply: Casey, 1997; Malpas, 1999; Patterson & Williams, 2005; Williams, 2014a; Williams, 2014b). For example, phenomenological traditions have emphasised the experiential qualities of place and have attended to the consubstantiality of place and human experience (e.g. Casey, 1993; Malpas, 1999; Relph, 1976; Seamon, 2014; Tuan, 1974, 1977); social constructivist discourses have informed various investigations of the meanings and values that people give to place in the social construction of their own realities (e.g. Gunderson & Watson, 2007; Speller, 2000; Stedman, 2003); and, alternatively, positivist perspectives have relied upon ‘hypothetic- deductive’ traditions to formulate operationally-definable constructs for the testing of specific causal relations between place-related variables (e.g. Jorgensen & Stedman, 2001; Jorgensen & Stedman, 2006; Shamai & Ilatov, 2005). From a critical pluralist perspective, each approach is legitimate in its own right, subject to their ability to address research questions consistent with the rules and norms of their own internal logics (Patterson & Williams, 2005). However, from my perspective, an overarching weakness of these approaches has been the inability to successfully engage with a conception of place as created in the dynamic interaction between human subjectivity and objective reality (Entrikin, 1991; Zia, Norton, Metcalf, Hirsch, & Hannon, 2014). This poses a significant problem for this research. It is in the discontinuities between human subjectivity (at an

individual level and a societal level) and biophysical reality that I argue anthropogenic environmental distress and human-related place-based distress is produced.

It has been long understood in various fields of inquiry (such as Australian environmental history) that environmental degradation is likely to occur in contexts where human goals, values and knowledge are incompatible with the biophysical environment upon which they are enacted (e.g. Bolton, 1981; Gammage, 1994; Lines, 1991). Beresford et al. (2001) offer a particularly cognisant example of this in their investigation of dryland salinity and its causes in the Wheatbelt. ‘Developmentalist’ ideals and Western notions of ‘progress’ lay implicit in governmental policies that promoted large-scale clearing practices that radically disrupted the region’s hydrological balance. As a result of these worldviews, the behaviours they motivated, and their incompatibility with the ecological processes governing the landscapes of south-west Western Australia, the Wheatbelt now has one of the worst enduring dryland salinity problems in the world.

It is my contention that place-based distress can be understood in the same way. If psychological and emotional identities, attachments, and dependencies are formed in relation to an environment on the basis of an incorrect set of ecological assumptions, or if an environment is transforming in a way that invalidates these assumptions, then psychological and emotional relationships to place may come under threat, resulting in place-based distress. In other words, as a biophysical environment undergoes change, an individuals’ sense of place may no longer be supported and may in fact become mal- adapted to new environmental conditions (Albrecht, 2011).

Support for this assertion is found amongst studies of Indigenous communities experiencing chronic climate change impacts on their ancestral lands. There is evidence to suggest that climate change has, to an extent, invalidated the traditional ecological knowledge of the Inuit of northern Canada (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012b) and the Indigenous peoples of the Torres Strait (McNamara & Westoby, 2011). In both cases, as traditional knowledge handed down from generation to generation begins to run counter to changing environmental conditions, an erosion of place-based knowledge and understandings is elicited, producing, in some instances, associated feelings of environmentally-induced distress. It is in these discontinuities between people and place that I argue place-based distress has the potential to emerge.

In light of my contention I argue for a metaphysical position that allows the subjective and objective qualities of place to be held separately, and for inconsistencies in their interaction to be identified and critically examined. Traditional approaches to place appear unable to offer an appropriate metaphysical avenue for this task. Positivist positions (based on the assumptions of naïve realism) within geography and environmental psychology tend to view ‘place’ as a set of spatial relationships. Such approaches seek to demonstrate causal relationships between aspects of the physical environment and human behaviour. However, researchers from humanist perspectives have criticised such approaches for stripping environments of their meaning and value, and for denying the agency of human subjectivity in the creation of place (see Entrikin, 1976).

On the other hand, social constructionist positions dismiss altogether the existence of a mind-independent reality and therefore can only attend to human values and meanings as they are constructed by human subjectivity (see, for example: Hannigan, 1995). As Gunderson and Watson (2007) point out with regard to social constructionist approaches to place: “how the physical environment influences sense of place is implied but not specified” (p. 706). Such a position cannot support critical inquiry into the consistency of subjective and objective worlds; for without grounding in objective reality, socially- constructed meanings and experiences are contingent upon nothing other than themselves. This is perhaps why place research couched within social constructionist frameworks has consistently failed to address the physicality of places and its agency in shaping human thought and behaviour.

Furthermore, phenomenological perspectives tend to view place and experience as indivisibly entangled within a higher-order “life-world” (Seamon, 2014). As Seamon states “phenomenologically, place is not the physical environment separate from people associated with it, but rather, the indivisible, normally unnoticed phenomenon of person- or-people-experiencing-place” (2014, p. 11). Due to its emphasis on the indivisibility between place and experience, phenomenological perspectives appear ill-equipped to attend to the dynamic relation between changing environmental conditions and attendant changes in human values, meanings and experiences, nor allow for critical examination of discrepancies that may arise between subjective understandings of place and their grounding in objective reality.

In response, my thinking towards the investigation of place has been influenced by what Entrikin (1991) terms the ‘betweenness of place’. According to Entrikin, place is neither

purely constructed by human subjectivity nor entirely embedded in an objective biophysical reality. Consequently, to attend to place as one or the other is to lose the ability to engage with complexity of place. He explains:

To understand place requires that we have access to both an objective and a subjective reality. From the decentred vantage point of the theoretical scientist, place becomes either location or a set of generic relations and thereby loses much of its significance for human action. From the centred viewpoint of the subject, place has meaning only in relation to an individual’s or a group’s goals and concerns. Place is best viewed from points in between (1991, p. 5).

Critical realism, as it is understood in relation to the work of the English philosopher of science Roy Bhaskar (e.g. Bhaskar, 1975, 1980; Bhaskar, Frank, Høyer, Næss, & Parker, 2010) is argued here to provide such a point ‘in-between’. Critical realism is founded on three premises: 1) ontological realism: reality exists independently of our conception of it; 2) epistemological relativism: all knowledge is socially-produced; and 3) judgemental rationality: the verisimilitude of truth claims can be tested (Bhaskar, 2010). Thus, from a critical realist perspective, reality is seen to exist outside of our conception of it, but our ability to know it is imperfect and therefore potentially fallible. However, this is not to say that all knowledge claims are equally fallible: a critical realist perspective maintains it is possible to evaluate the relative ‘truthfulness’ of a claim against an objective, mind- independent reality. (Carolan, 2005; Sayer, 2000). To this end, critical realism makes an important distinction between the ways things are (intransitive dimension) and our knowledge claims about them (transitive dimension). It is this distinction that provides the crux of the critical realist perspective (Carolan, 2005).

Epistemological relativism and judgemental rationality have several implications for this thesis. Epistemological relativism acknowledges there are many social constructions pertaining to the ‘truth’ of objective reality. However, the tenet of judgemental rationality allows some claims to truth to be evaluated as more or less accurately representing objective reality (Carolan, 2005; Sayer, 2000). In the context of this thesis, community residents’ experiences and understandings of a changing climate are critiqued against scientific discourses of climate change. In this regard, scientific discourses on climate change, as it is produced by trained professionals working in nationally and internationally recognised scientific institutions (e.g. Bureau of Meteorology; CSIRO; IPCC), are privileged in this thesis and are considered to have a greater claim to the ‘truth’ underlying the reality

of climate change than that which can be accessed by an individual’s personal experiences alone. This is because the findings of these scientific institutions can be replicated by other researchers in any other global context, and because these findings can also be independently verified. It is acknowledged, however, that the scientific discourses of climate change are only approximations of reality and therefore are fallible in their own right. This can be seen in the continual evolution in our knowledge of the causes and impacts of anthropogenic climate change.

Judgemental rationality also has implications for the nature of my own research practice. Conclusions presented in this thesis are argued to display verisimilitude only insofar that they meet the demands of my chosen evaluative criteria. Although through all stages of the research process I have endeavoured to minimise bias and error, I acknowledge that this research (as with all research) only serves to approximate the truth of the situation. Evaluative criteria for this research are presented in the next chapter.

A second point to note with regard to a critical realist perspective is its repudiation of reductionism. As Bhaskar (2010) explains, almost all phenomena of the world occur in open systems and are therefore “generated not by one, but by a multiplicity of causal structures, mechanisms, processes or fields” (p. 4). Explanations of complex phenomena therefore cannot be reduced to a single causal explanation, nor reduced to one level (e.g. cultural, social, economic) (Amundsen, 2013). In this regard, critical realism considers all social events to occur across interlinked scales of influence.

With regard to this thesis, farmers’ experiences of climate-driven place-based distress can neither be reduced to a single level of analysis nor to a single causal mechanism. Anthropogenic climate change operates at a planetary scale and therefore has the potential to impact directly and indirectly upon all facets of an individual’s life (Bhaskar et al., 2010; Dryzek et al., 2013; Morton, 2013). As will be demonstrated in Chapters 7 and 8 respectively, farmers’ lived experiences of climate change and the transformation of their broader socio-ecological context are both contributing to farmers’ experiences of place- based distress. Climate-driven place-based distress is therefore a highly complex phenomenon, operating through processes located across global to local scales of interaction. It is for this reason that a socio-ecological systems approach (as part of a broader ecohealth-complexity perspective) was chosen as the guiding theoretical framework for this thesis.

3.4 Ecohealth Ecosystem approaches to health (‘ecosystem health’ or ‘ecohealth’), a field pioneered by David Rapport (see, for example: Rapport, 2003; Rapport, 2007; Rapport et al., 1998b; Rapport, Gaudet, Constanza, Epstein, & Levins, 2009; Rapport & Mergler, 2004; Rapport, Regier, & Hutchinson, 1985; Rapport, Thorpe, & Regier, 1979; Rapport & Whitford, 1999) describes the operation of ecosystems and assesses their functionality with respect to human values and goals. As described by Rapport (2007):

Ecosystem health is the study of the circumstances that enables ecosystems to maintain their full functionality while providing sustainable livelihoods and conditions that favour cultural wellbeing and public health (p. 78).

From this perspective, ‘health’ is regarded as a fundamental property of life systems across all levels of organisation, from the operation of a cell through to the operation of the biosphere (Rapport, 2003; Rapport, 2007). Because human beings are seen to be part of the life systems of the Earth rather than separate from them, human health and wellbeing is considered an outcome and a driver of ecosystem health (Rapport, 2002, 2007). To understand human health and wellbeing from an ecohealth perspective thus requires an understanding of health as a dynamic and relative condition, contingent upon the complex interactions that occur between people and environment across various geographical and temporal scales (Albrecht et al., 2008; Charron, 2012; Forget & Lebel, 2001; Horwitz & Finlayson, 2011; Lebel, 2003; Rapport, 2002, 2007).

Ecosystem approaches to health are not new. For millennia, Indigenous peoples have understood the vital connections between human life and the life-support systems of the Earth, displaying their deep knowledge of these vital links through story, song and various other cultural practices (Higginbotham, Albrecht, & Connor, 2001; Kingsley, Townsend, Henderson-Wilson, & Bolam, 2013; Knudtson & Suzuki, 1992; Parkes, 2010). Even in Western thought, vital links between ecosystem health and human health have held long tenure and can be traced back to the writings of Hippocrates (Albrecht et al., 2008). However, with the development of the ‘one pathogen, one disease’ model of human health in the nineteenth century, ancient understandings of human health and wellbeing as contingent with its broader biophysical environment were largely obscured within the myopic gaze of biomedical reductionism (Capra, 1983).

By the mid-twentieth century, the dominance of the positivist scientific paradigm began to waver. New ways of conducting science based on ecological thinking, complexity, and

chaotic systems emerged, and with them a new worldview developed which embraced a vision of the world as messy, probabilistic, non-linear and emergent (Capra, 1983; Waldrop, 1992). Tied to the development of a ‘post-normal science’, ecohealth has emerged in the overlap of goals between natural resource management and public health as a paradigm that seeks to promote the health and sustainability of human populations and their environments (Albrecht et al., 2008; Forget & Lebel, 2001; Rapport, 2002, 2007; Wilcox, Aguiree, & Horwitz, 2012). The ecohealth approach to health research thus attempts to move beyond the reductionism inherent in the biomedical model to consider the broader ecological context within which human and ecosystem health arises.

The ecohealth approach to research is not so much a unified field of inquiry, but rather a transdisciplinary ‘gathering place’ of diverse research approaches and agendas that explore what Parkes terms “the fundamental interrelationships of health and ecology in ways that reflect the reciprocity among humans, all species and the non-living components of the ecosystems on which we depend” (2011, p. 138). Although the aims, intents and purposes of ecohealth projects may differ, each shares several commonalities. First, the ecohealth approach shares a common field of investigation. This is best explained by Charron below:

Ecosystem approaches to health focus on the interactions between the ecological and socio-economic dimensions of a given situation, and their influence on human health, as well as how people use or impact ecosystems, the implications for the quality of ecosystems, the provision of ecosystem services, and sustainability (2012, p. 6).

Second, ecohealth research is shaped by six guiding principles: systems thinking, transdisciplinary research, participation, sustainability, gender and social equity, and knowledge to action (Charron, 2012). Rather than constituting a ‘methodological checklist’, these six principles act more as ‘guide posts’ for the implementation of ecohealth research in differentiated and localised contexts. Whereas the latter principles (sustainability, gender and social equity, and knowledge to action) refer to the intrinsic goals of ecohealth research, the former principles (systems thinking, transdisciplinarity, and participation) refer to the process of conducting health research within an ecohealth framework (Charron, 2012). The principles of systems thinking, transdisciplinarity, and participation have had substantial influence on the way this research has been conducted and will be discussed further here.

3.4.1 Principles of ecohealth research

3.4.1.1 Systems thinking Systems thinking originated across various disciplines such as biology, mathematics, computer science, physiology, economics, philosophy, sociology and ecology as a way of understanding complex phenomena whose behaviour and evolution is comprised of various interrelated and interdependent parts (Allison & Hobbs, 2006; Gunderson & Holling, 2002; Waldrop, 1992). Systems display emergent behaviours that cannot be understood through the investigation of their individual parts. As a consequence, and in contrast to traditional forms of science that attempt to isolate causal relationships between discrete variables, systems approaches attend to relationships and principles of organisation that govern system behaviour as a whole (Allison & Hobbs, 2006; Gunderson & Holling, 2002; Walker & Salt, 2006).

Systems thinking has been incorporated into the ecohealth approach as a way of examining human health and wellbeing as phenomena arising from the complex interaction of coupled social and ecological systems (Albrecht et al., 2008; Berbes-Blazquez et al., 2014; Charron, 2012; Forget & Lebel, 2001). The implication of this perspective is that the health of human communities, animal populations and the ecosystems on which they depend are fundamentally linked through complex and dynamic webs of interaction occurring across multiple spatial and temporal scales (Berbes-Blazquez et al., 2014; Charron, 2012; Higginbotham et al., 2001). Therefore, to appreciate ‘health’ from an ecohealth perspective is to understand the internal and cross-scalar dynamics of SESs.

For the purposes of this research, systems thinking and its associated concepts have been employed in order to understand how farmers’ broader socio-ecological context is responding to a changing climate. Of particular interest to this thesis is how cross-scalar and cross-domain interactions between a changing climate, global agro-commodity markets, and a neoliberal policy context are impacting the resilience of farmers’ broader socio-ecological context in the Wheatbelt. The purpose of this line of inquiry not only serves to provide context for this thesis (see Chapter 5), but also raises important questions regarding the future of farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing in a regional context subject to intensifying climatic and economic risks (see Chapter 8). Further detail regarding the theoretical and methodological underpinnings of this line of inquiry and how it has been applied in this thesis is discussed later in Section 3.4.2 and in Chapter 5.

3.4.1.2 Transdisciplinarity Given the complexities surrounding issues of human health and wellbeing as related to the natural world, transdisciplinary perspectives are required that move beyond disciplinary boundaries to address the biophysical and socio-cultural factors that sustain human and non-human life (Aguiree & Wilcox, 2008; Albrecht, Freeman, & Higginbotham, 1998; Albrecht et al., 2008; Higginbotham et al., 2001; Rapport, 2007; Wilcox et al., 2012; WHO, 2015). Transdisciplinarity is favoured in contexts where problems display emergent properties, non-linear feedbacks, and entangled webs of interaction between various components operating across multiple scales (Higginbotham et al., 2001; Somerville & Rapport, 2000). As will be demonstrated throughout the course of this thesis, farmers’ place-related mental health and wellbeing are complex topics of investigation not readily investigable through traditional disciplinary modes of inquiry or a limited set of interdisciplinary perspectives.

Transdisciplinary research incorporates multiple scientific perspectives and provides a platform to integrate multiple stakeholder positions in the research process (Aguiree & Wilcox, 2008; Charron, 2012; Forget & Lebel, 2001; Lebel, 2003; Wilcox et al., 2004). In the face of complex health problems, transdisciplinary approaches provide opportunities for innovative solutions to emerge in context-specific situations (Wickson, 2006) and are thereby closely coupled with participatory research strategies outlined in the next section. Transdisciplinarity has also been a guiding principle of previous climate-health research incorporating place-based perspectives (e.g. Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012; Tschakert et al., 2013).

As will be demonstrated in following chapters, a transdisciplinary approach drawing on various disciplines (e.g. systems science, earth science, public health, humanistic geography, environmental psychology, agronomy, economics), multiple research methodologies and methods (interviews, photography, document analysis, ethnographic techniques), amongst various stakeholders (community members, State Government representatives, community organisations), provides the platform from which this thesis contributes new understandings of Australian farmers’ mental health and wellbeing in the context of rapid anthropogenic climate change.

3.4.1.3 Participation Participatory approaches seek to be inclusive of multiple forms of knowledge generated among various stakeholders throughout the research process (Charron, 2012). Engaging

with multiple community, governmental, and expert stakeholders at all levels of the research process is advantageous when engaging with the complexities of ecohealth research. Practically, stakeholder engagement can foster new insights and innovative methodologies that can lead to the development of more effective context-specific research tools, strategies and outcomes (Charron, 2012; Lebel, 2003). Participatory approaches also recognise that different stakeholders bring with them different values and worldviews that shape how community health problems are conceptualised, addressed, and to what extent research outcomes are considered desirable by different groups (Charron, 2012). This is particularly important when human health is recognised as being specific to different cultures and environments (Panelli & Tipa, 2007).

The levels and terms of participation vary between projects, depending on the research agenda, the stakeholders involved, and the broader socio-ecological context within which the research takes place (Lebel, 2003). In this thesis, a participatory approach directed the course of the research process in various ways. Engagement with local community members determined the timing of the interview series. Timing is a particularly important issue in farming communities given the seasonal nature of agricultural work. As a result, interviews were scheduled outside of the peak work seasons of seeding and harvest. More substantively, an iterative research design was employed which allowed research themes to emerge and develop in response to answers provided by community member participants. Although research themes were initially developed in relation to a review of the academic literature, participants’ responses shaped the direction of future interview rounds, thereby providing a platform for participants to voice their concerns regarding themes directly and indirectly related to the research project. Consequently, the research was open to ‘surprise’ as wholly unexpected research themes and outcomes emerged. Given the lack of previous research into Australian farmers’ sense of place and place- related mental wellbeing, a participatory approach was crucial for uncovering the novel place-related themes reported in Chapters 6 through 8. This research also included interviews with key informants representing various government, industry and community organisations. The participatory approach taken with key informants revealed divergent knowledge and value systems implicit within community, governmental policy, and scientific perspectives on climate change and Australian agriculture. These themes are addressed in Chapter 9.

3.4.2 Place, ecohealth and resilience thinking An ecohealth approach to place research is not without precedent (see, for example: Horwitz, Lindsay, & O'Connor, 2001; Johnston et al., 2007; McNamara & Westoby, 2011; Panelli & Tipa, 2007). Arguably the most comprehensive example of research integrating place into an ecohealth theoretical framework is provided by a Canadian transdisciplinary research team who examined climate change and its impacts on the sense of place and mental wellbeing of individuals living in an Inuit community in northern Canada (see: Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011, 2012a, 2012b, 2013; MacDonald, Harper, Cunsolo Willox, Edge, & Rigolet Inuit Community Government, 2012). Utilising an ecohealth approach with strong emphasis on transdisciplinarity and community participation, the team developed an innovative research design comprising several research methods (such as digital storytelling workshops, surveys, photovoice, and in-depth structured and semi-structured interviews) in collaboration with various academic, governmental and community stakeholders to provide an in-depth and holistic profile of climate change impacts on community members in Rigolet, Nunatsiavut. Throughout the multi-year program, research outcomes were achieved iteratively as community members, researchers, and other key stakeholders shaped the direction and implementation of research processes. In addition to gaining a comprehensive understanding of localised place-based impacts of climate change (see Section 2.5.2 for review), the research also promoted community health literacy, developed recommendations for community health programs and policy, and further advanced mental health as a topic of inquiry in the emerging climate-health field.

While not all ecohealth place-based research will follow the above format, the Canadian research program does provide an example of how an ecohealth theoretical approach can be applied to allow innovative and transdisciplinary understandings of human health to be developed in relation to environmental change and place-related health. Their commitment to transdisciplinary and participatory research strategies allowed novel understandings of human health and wellbeing to emerge that are sensitive to the Inuit’s conception of health as being vitally connected to their home environment. In doing so, the authors extended the application of an ecohealth approach to issues of emotional and psychological health, integrated ‘place’ research within a broader framework of human- environment theory, and provided theoretically and empirically-informed strategies to improve the Inuit’s mental health and wellbeing in a manner that are sensitive to their strong emotional connections to place.

Building on the work of these pioneering researchers, there is further opportunity to develop understandings of place and sense of place within an ecohealth framework. For instance, though systems thinking is a key principle of ecohealth, rarely are formal systems concepts applied to ecohealth treatments of mental health and psychosocial wellbeing. A promising recent development in this area, however, is provided by Berbes-Blazques et al. (2014) who identified various synergies between ecohealth and ‘resilience thinking.’ Resilience thinking (or socio-ecological resilience) is a branch of systems science that provides a framework for understanding processes of change and persistence in complex systems of people and nature. As issues of human physical and mental health are increasingly understood to be related to socio-ecological processes, the authors argue resilience thinking provides ecohealth practitioners a useful set of heuristics to engage with complex, multi-scalar, and so-called ‘wicked’ problems in health.

Resilience principles related to the theory of complex adaptive systems are employed in this thesis to examine climate change impacts on farmers’ broader socio-ecological contexts. This allowed the indirect pathways through which climate change impacts farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing to be examined. As Hess et al. (2008) and others (Adger et al., 2013; Adger et al., 2011a; Lyth et al., 2015) note, the ability to engage with socio-ecological risks presented by climate change is important, as a majority of climate change-health impacts are mediated by various place-specific environmental, economic, cultural and social pathways of risk and are therefore experienced indirectly by affected residents. As such, the task of understanding people’s emotional and psychological relationships to place cannot be divorced from the task of understanding how broader environmental, economic and socio-cultural drivers impact upon place and shape relationships between people and place (Manzo, 2003). In this regard, farmers’ sense of place and their personal experiences of climate-induced place- based distress are understood in this thesis to be located within a regional SES that is driving, and being driven by, anthropogenic climate change. Resilience thinking and its associated concepts are discussed in detail in Chapter 5 and a ‘resilience analysis’ of the Wheatbelt SES system is provided. Chapter 8 revisits the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES in relation to potential future climate change trends and explores possible implications for farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing.

3.5 Chapter Summary In this chapter I have argued that no one research approach can fully exhaust nor fully capture the complexity of place. In light of this complexity, as well as the various

conceptual and methodological problems inherent within the place literature, I agree with Patterson and Williams (2005) and others (Williams, 2014a,b) who argue that researchers must carefully explicate their paradigmatic, theoretical and methodological choices if they are to avoid further adding to the state of confusion in the literature. In response, my own approach to the investigation of place and place-based distress amongst Australian family farmers argues the need to attend to place as subjectively experienced, objectively constituted and socio-ecologically emplaced. It is for this reason that I adopt a critical realist metaphysical position which allows me to attend to the biophysical and experiential characteristics of place and their potential discontinuities. Furthermore, through its repudiation of reductionism, critical realism provides a metaphysical platform from which to engage with the socio-ecological complexities of climate change and its risks to human health and wellbeing. To this end, an ecohealth approach founded on the principles of systems thinking, transdisciplinarity and participation is argued to provide an appropriate theoretical framework for engaging with farmers’ experiences of climate-driven place- based distress in a manner that is also consistent with the tenets of critical realism.8 However, unlike previous ecohealth research that has investigated sense of place issues, this research examines place through the lens of the lived experience and the dynamics of socio-ecological systems. For this reason, the research presented here also adopts resilience principles in the investigation of farmers’ climate-related place-based distress. In light of these metaphysical and theoretical considerations, the next chapter outlines my methodological choices.

8 For discussion on consistencies between critical realism and ecohealth, see Albrecht et al. (2008).

Chapter 4: Methodology ______

4.1 Introduction In any research project, the methodology should be presented as the most logical choice in facilitating the investigation of the phenomenon of interest, given the researchers’ goals, metaphysical position, and stated theoretical framework (Crotty, 1998). The methodology is therefore the crux of a given research project in providing a coherent nexus between theory, practice, participants and researcher. Following on from the stated aims and goals of this research, and in light of my stated metaphysical and theoretical positions outlined in the previous chapter, a qualitative case study design is argued here to be the methodological approach best suited for the task of exploring family farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing in the context of a rapidly changing climate.

The case study was conducted across two intersecting geographical scales: the Wheatbelt (conceived as a large SES); and Newdegate, a small Wheatbelt community located 399 kilometres south-east of the Western Australian state capital, Perth. This approach allowed me to investigate climate change as a locally-experienced ‘lived’ phenomenon, and as a driver of regional socio-ecological change. A multi-point iterative research design was employed comprising, amongst other data collection strategies, a three-part interview series conducted with 22 family farmers throughout the course of the 2013-14 agricultural season, and 15 interviews with key informants representing various government, community and private organisations. The multi-point iterative research design was adopted to allow seasonal weather variation and its impacts upon farmers’ lived experiences of place and the dynamics of the broader Wheatbelt SES to be observed. Further detail regarding the case study design and the data collection methods employed in this thesis are provided in Sections 4.3 and 4.4 respectively.

This chapter begins with a brief overview of qualitative case study methodology before moving on to describe the case study location. The research design and data collection methods are then discussed, followed by an overview of the analytical procedures and the chosen evaluative criteria employed in this research. Reflections upon my methodological choices and their consistency with my metaphysical and theoretical positions conclude the chapter.

4.2 Qualitative case study design Qualitative case study designs are employed when investigating complex social phenomena as they occur within their contexts (Baxter & Jack, 2008). According to Yin (2014), case studies are appropriate research designs when ‘how’ or ‘why’ questions are being asked about a contemporary set of events over which the researcher has little or no control. Unlike quasi-experimental designs in which the researcher attempts to control key variables, or historical analyses in which the researcher cannot directly observe events or issues, case study designs allow researchers to directly engage with issues as they unfold in their real world contexts (Yin, 2014).

The term ‘case study’ can represent that which is under investigation (e.g. Stake, 2005) or a methodological approach (e.g. Denzin & Lincoln, 2005; Porteous, Higginbotham, Freeman, & Connor, 1998). I agree with Creswell who views case study research as both “an object of study, as well as a product of inquiry” (2013, p. 97). As a methodological approach, case study designs seek to engage with the complexity of a phenomenon as it emerges in its ‘real world’ context. To achieve this end, case study designs typically employ multiple data collection strategies and use various sources of evidence that, when triangulated, provide in-depth understandings of a phenomenon or issue of interest. When corroborated, the use of multiple methods and data sources ensures that an issue is explored from a variety of perspectives, thereby allowing multiple facets of complex phenomena to be revealed and understood (Baxter & Jack, 2008).

Case study research does not comprise any one methodological approach per se; however, qualitative procedures typically find application in case study methodology. Qualitative research is employed in the context of ill-defined or complex problem areas related to “the meaning individuals and groups ascribe to a social or human problem” (Creswell, 2013, p. 44) and typically involves the collection and analysis of non-numerical data (words, photographs etcetera). Although there are many types of qualitative research, each designed to address different research problems, the broad family of qualitative research methods cohere to a similar set of assumptions, which Creswell (2007) presents in some detail. For the sake of brevity, three key characteristics of qualitative research and their application to this thesis are described below.

First, qualitative research typically employs an inductive logic in which research questions, data collection strategies, and the overall research process are ‘built from the ground up’ rather than prescribed in a ‘top-down’ fashion from a particular theory or hypothesis

(Creswell, 2013). Qualitative research designs therefore develop throughout the course of the research process as research strategies are adapted and refined in relation to new understandings or changing circumstances. The ability to adapt one’s research approach in light of new information and changing circumstances is a key component of participatory and/or transdisciplinary research designs which seek to engage with complex social phenomena as they emerge within their localised contexts (see, for example: Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a).

Given the relatively uncharted area of inquiry this thesis traverses, inductive reasoning is a crucial design element of this research. Initially, research aims and purposes were held loosely as I became immersed within the farming context of the Wheatbelt. Various formal and informal discussions with farmers and key informants revealed changing climatic conditions to be a major source of personal worry and financial risk for farmers throughout the region. In response, the direction of this thesis was adapted to engage with climate change and its impacts upon family farmers and their broader environmental, economic and social contexts. An inductive approach was also taken to the development of the community member interview series and to the analytical process (see Sections 4.4.1 and 4.5 respectively). This allowed research themes to be developed organically in response to unfolding seasonal circumstances and in relation to the lived experiences of community member participants.

Second, qualitative research encompasses strategies that facilitate the investigation of phenomena as they occur within their natural settings (Creswell, 2013). In contrast to collecting data from people situated in laboratory settings or via depersonalised and decontextualised survey instruments, qualitative data collection procedures typically involve gathering information directly from participants who are situated within the context of their everyday lives (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). In this research, engaging directly with farmers through semi-structured interviews and various other formal and informal means (e.g. photography, participant observation) was preferred over survey instruments for exploring the meanings and values farmers ascribe to their farming environments and for gaining insight into their lived experiences of a changing climate. In contrast to survey instruments, which are useful for assessing the strength of connection an individual or a group may harbour towards a place, qualitative methods are preferred when investigating the meanings people ascribe to their locations (Williams, 2014a). Furthermore, this approach allowed farmers to articulate their own observations of climate change and its

impacts on people and place, thereby strengthening the participatory approach taken in this research.

Third, qualitative approaches typically employ multiple data collection methods so that a rich and detailed account of a phenomenon or issue of interest may emerge from multiple perspectives. When engaging with phenomena that display characteristics which are tightly enmeshed within their broader contexts, the use of multiple research methods allow the complexities of such phenomena to be revealed in a greater depth than can be afforded by a single research method alone (Creswell, 2013; Yin, 2014). The use of multiple methods is not only consistent with a transdisciplinary approach to research, it is an approach that also improves the validity of research findings when multiple sources of evidence are collated or ‘triangulated’ in support of the same conclusion (Creswell, 2013). As will be demonstrated later in this chapter, research claims made throughout the course of this thesis are supported by multiple and converging data sources. In addition to improving the validity of the research findings, the use of multiple methods was also useful for engaging with the complexities of farmers’ sense of place and for examining the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES. The development and application of the multiple methods employed in this thesis are discussed further in Section 4.4.

4.3 Defining the case study

4.3.1 Regional context: the Western Australian Wheatbelt The Wheatbelt is a vast agricultural landscape located in the south-western tip of the Australian continent (see Figure 1). Stretching some 400 kilometres (km) north and 700km east of the State capital, Perth, the Wheatbelt covers approximately 155,000 square kilometres. The Wheatbelt comprises approximately 13.5 million hectares of agricultural land, with just over half dedicated to cropping and the other half dedicated to sheep grazing (Trestrail, Martin, New, & Corrie, 2013). Approximately 4,300 rainfed broadacre farming enterprises operate throughout the region that together, on average, produce 10 million tonnes of cereals, oilseeds and pulses annually, worth $3 billion (AUS) to the State economy (Department of Agriculture and Food Western Australia, 2014).

Figure 1. The Wheatbelt showing 325mm, 400mm and 750mm isohyets (based on rainfall from 1990 to 1975) and agroecological zones. Newdegate is highlighted in red. Adapted from Barley Sowing Guide for Western Australia 2015 (p. 18), by P. Blakely, A. Hills, S. Gupta, S. Collins, H. Dhammu, R. Malik, & G. Trainor, 2014, Perth, Western Australia: Department of Agriculture. Copyright 2014 by Western Australian Agriculture Authority. Adapted with permission.

The Wheatbelt is situated within one of 25 globally-recognised ‘biodiversity hotspots’ (Myers, 2000).9 Defined by the authors as an area where “exceptional concentrations of endemic species are undergoing exceptional loss of habitat” (p. 853), the Wheatbelt (as part of the larger south-western region of Western Australia) is the only such biodiversity hotspot recognised in Australia (Mittermeier et al., 2004). Surrounded by deserts to the north and to the east, and oceans to the south and to the west, the region has been described as ‘island-like’ in its ecological isolation from the rest of mainland Australia (Hopper, 1979). Geologically, south-west Western Australia is extraordinarily old. In the absence of mountain building and glaciation processes over the last 300 million years, the region comprises a mosaic of highly-weathered and nutrient-deficient soils scattered across a flat, stable and highly weathered low plateau (Hopper & Gioia, 2004). Despite the poor quality of the region’s soils, south-western Western Australia has supported continual

9 The number of global biodiversity hotspots was revised upwards to 34 in 2004 (Mittermeier et al., 2004)

human occupation for at least 50,000 years (Turney et al., 2001) and is today the traditional homelands of the Noongar people: a cultural group composed of fourteen geographically- distinct dialects.

European-styled agricultural practices were introduced to the region shortly after the British colonisation of Western Australia in 1826. However, it was not until the early 1900s that the development of the Wheatbelt began in earnest. Faced with declining revenue from the waning gold rush, the expansion of agricultural lands was seen as a way to ensure the continued economic prosperity of the newly formed Western Australian State. Assisted by successive State Governments, the Wheatbelt expanded dramatically first in the period 1889 to 1929 and again in the period 1949 to 1969 (Burvill, 1979). According to Beresford et al. (2001), the scale of the clearing activities undertaken in the seventy years after its commencement make the Wheatbelt region unique. One estimate suggests 15 billion trees were cleared in the development of the Wheatbelt (Murry, 1999 as cited in Beresford et al., 2001). What exists today is a rolling landscape denuded of its native vegetation and ecological complexity; a region so vast that it can be clearly seen from space.

Broadacre agriculture is the dominant contemporary ecological, social and economic mode of organisation in the Wheatbelt region. Wheat is the primary commodity produced, with approximately 7 million tonnes produced annually across 4 million hectares of land (DAFWA, 2014). This makes the Wheatbelt an important contributor to the global supply of wheat, with 90 percent of the annual wheat harvest sold on export markets (WA Farmers., n.d.). Other major crops include barley, canola and pulses. In addition to cropping activities, the region produces approximately five million sheep and lambs for meat and export, as well as 74 million kilos of wool annually (DAFWA, 2014). The Wheatbelt is the largest agricultural region in the State and the fourth largest industry behind petroleum, iron ore and gold (DAFWA, 2014).

The Wheatbelt has a Mediterranean climate characterised by hot, dry summers and cool, wet winters. During summer, a band of high pressure known as the ‘sub-tropical ridge’ descends southwards and directs an easterly stream of dry, warm air over much of southern Australia. In winter, this ridge moves northwards and directs a westerly flow of moist air over southern Australia (Kingwell et al., 2013). It is this process that brings the region’s winter rainfall and constitutes the seasonal limits of the growing season. Between 60 and 70 percent of the region’s annual rainfall is received during the winter growing season, which runs from May through to October (Cramb, 2000). Growing season rainfall is

generally attributable to winter cold fronts that sweep across the region in a south- westerly to north-easterly fashion, with rainfall gradients highest in the south-west and easing further east (Cramb, 2000). Summer rainfall is highly variable by contrast, and is typically associated with isolated thunderstorm events.

The region’s agricultural activities are conducted mainly within the winter growing months. Seeding activities typically begin with the arrival of the first major rains of the season, known colloquially as the ‘opening break’ (Pook et al., 2009). On average, the opening break arrives between mid-April to late-May, though the timing and strength of the opening break varies considerably from season to season. ‘Follow-up rains’ are then required to sustain crop and pasture development through the growing season. The follow- up rains are typically associated with the arrival of cold frontal systems. September and October then mark a period of high frost risk as crops go into flower (Zaicou-Kunesch, Shackley, Sharma, Amjad, & Anderson, 2005). Planting decisions made during seeding influence the extent to which crops are exposed and vulnerable to frost damage at this time. ‘Finishing rains’ then arrive from mid-September through to mid-October. Like the opening break, the timing and strength of the finishing rains can vary considerably from year to year. Rainfall then tapers off towards the end of October, allowing grains to ‘dry- off’ in preparation for harvest. Harvest typically commences in early November and runs through to the end of December. Following the harvest, a majority of paddocks are left to stubble for graizing sheep and to guard against wind erosion though the dry and hot summer months.

Wheatbelt agricultural systems typically comprise mixed grain/livestock enterprises and specialised grain-only producers (Trestrail et al., 2013). Due to the rainfed nature of these broadacre systems, agricultural production and farm-business profitability are highly sensitive to climatic variation. For instance, Trestrail et al. report winter crop production in the 2012-13 season fell by 35 percent as compared with the previous season owing to drier seasonal conditions. This was associated with a 60 percent reduction in farm business profit over the same period (Australian Bureau of Agricultural and Resource Economics and Sciences, 2014). Climatic variability and extreme weather events are challenges shared by broadacre farmers throughout Australia (Howden & Crimp, 2005). However, it is the rapid rate at which anthropogenic climate change has impacted upon the Wheatbelt and its farming communities which sets it apart as an appropriate location for exploring family farmers’ experiences of climate-driven place-based distress.

According to Kingwell et al. (2015), farmers in the Wheatbelt have experienced a greater proportionate decline in seasonal rainfall than farmers in any other wheat-growing region in Australia. Winter rainfall in the Wheatbelt, once considered the most consistent and reliable anywhere in Australia (Indian Ocean Climate Initiative [IOCI], 2004), has declined 20 percent since 1970 (Cai & Cown, 2006). A major feature of this decline has been the absence of very high rainfall years which were relatively common throughout much of the last century (Bates et al., 2008). Observations from the IOCI (2012) have shown that the greatest reduction in seasonal rainfall has occurred in the early winter period (May to June). This drying trend has dramatically intensified and geographically expanded since 2000 (see Figure 8, Chapter 5). In contrast, summer rainfall, in some areas, has increased since 2000. However, this is largely the result of an increased frequency of extreme rainfall events (IOCI, 2012).

Meteorological observations have also revealed that the temperature profile of the Wheatbelt has shifted over the last half century. Consistent with national and global trends, average temperatures throughout the region have increased by 0.8°C over the last century, with a majority of the warming trend occurring after 1950 (IOCI, 2012). In addition, there is evidence to suggest that the region’s temperature extremes have become more pronounced. The IOCI (2012) report an increase in the frequency of heatwave events throughout the period 1958 to 2010; although the duration and intensity of heatwave events has diminished over the same period. In contrast, and somewhat paradoxically, Stephens et al. (2011) has also shown September frost risk has increased throughout central Wheatbelt areas in the 2000s as compared with the 1990s (see Figure 4). Furthermore, a recent study by the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation [CSIRO] found the major frost risk period now occurs three weeks later in the season as compared with the 1960s (Crimp et al., 2013).

In addition to the observed warming and drying trends, inter and intra seasonal variability have also dramatically increased through the 2000s. As explained by Stephens et al. (2011), the 2000s saw a sudden shift away from the favourable seasonal conditions of the 1990s towards seasons characterised by late opening breaks, short growing seasons, high frost risk, quick and dry finishes, high springtime temperatures and wet harvests. As will be shown in the following chapter, though each of these trends have the potential to undermine agricultural production and farm profitability in their own right, their impacts

on the people and places of the Wheatbelt has been amplified by their co-occurrence in the 2000s.

Climatic changes observed in the Wheatbelt region are consistent with anthropogenic global warming trends (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015; IOCI, 2012). Changes in large scale atmospheric processes attributable to anthropogenic greenhouse gas forcings have significantly altered the synoptic profile of the Wheatbelt region. As explained by Department of Food and Agriculture Western Australia (DAFWA) climatologist and senior research officer Ian Foster, the expansion of the Hadley Cell10, coupled with a weakening of the Southern Annular Mode11, have contributed to an increased prevalence of high pressure systems moving over the Wheatbelt region. As a result, cold frontal systems have shifted southward, thereby reducing the regions’ winter rainfall. It is these same processes that are thought to be responsible for the increase in seasonal frost risk observed in the 2000s. Although the wide-scale removal of the region’s native vegetation certainly contributes to observed climate trends (Andrich & Imberger, 2013), evidence suggests anthropogenic global warming is the primary driver of observed climatic changes in the Wheatbelt region. This further suggests that future climatic conditions in the Wheatbelt will be tightly coupled with future anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2007, 2015; Hennessy et al., 2008; IOCI, 2012). Climate projections and their potential impacts on agricultural production, farm business profitability, and the sense of place and mental health of family farmers are discussed in Chapter 8.

For reasons that will be explored in the next chapter, the sudden shift to an increasingly drier and variable climate in the 2000s exposed frailties in the Wheatbelt SES and undermined the resilience of individual family farming enterprises. These are issues that came to a head in during the 2013-14 season. Extreme seasonal variability and market volatility, sparked by global climatic and socio-political shocks, will be shown to have driven the Wheatbelt SES towards a near ‘tipping point’ which, if crossed, may have elicited

10 The Hadley Cell is a large scale atmospheric circulation in which air rises at the equator and sinks at medium latitudes. There is evidence to suggest that the Hadley Cell is expanding as a result of anthropogenic climate change, causing areas around 30 degrees (such as the Western Australian Wheatbelt) to become drier (e.g. Johanson & Fu, 2009; Seidel, Fu, Randel, & Reichler, 2007). 11 The Southern Annular Mode (SAM) describes the north-south movement of the westerly wind belt that encircles Antarctica. The position of this wind belt influences the strength and position of cold fronts and storm systems across the mid-latitudes, and is an important driver of rainfall variability across southern Australia. As explained by BoM: “[i]n a positive SAM event, the belt of strong westerly winds contracts towards Antarctica. This results in weaker than normal westerly winds and higher pressures over southern Australia, restricting the penetration of cold fronts inland.” Recent analysis suggests the SAM index is now at its highest positive value for at least the last 1,000 years, driven by anthropogenic greenhouse gas forcings (Abram et al., 2014).

significant changes in the social and economic structure of the Wheatbelt. The Wheatbelt therefore warrants inclusion in this thesis as an example of a large scale agricultural SES increasingly subject to the transformative impacts of anthropogenic global warming and attendant regional climate change.

4.3.2 Community context: Newdegate Newdegate is a small Wheatbelt community located 399km south-east of Perth and 52km east of Lake Grace in an area known colloquially as the Lakes District (see Figure 1). Once the traditional homelands of the Nyaki Nyaki people (a dialect group of the larger Noongar cultural group of southwest Western Australia), Newdegate today is an important wheat- producing area. Newdegate was founded in 1923 and quickly became known as an ideal wheat and sheep producing area due to its reliable winter climate (Good, 1964). Assisted by State-backed settlement schemes, agricultural loans, and infrastructure projects, agricultural production in the Newdegate region increased rapidly (Good, 1964). Initial clearing efforts were limited to low-lying country due to the poor quality of the region’s higher soils. However, through the 1950s and 1960s, as phosphates and synthetic fertilisers became increasingly available, the region’s ‘lighter soils’ became viable for agricultural production. This drove further land-clearing activities and exacerbated the loss of the native vegetative cover. Clearing continued in the Newdegate district until the cessation of the ‘Conditional Purchase’ programs in the late 1980s.

The economic and social order of the Newdegate district (as part of the broader Lake Grace Local Government Area) continues to be dominated by rainfed broadacre agriculture. Agriculture and its associated industries account for two-thirds of the area’s total economic activity and today employs approximately half of the area’s population (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2012b). Although canola, barley and legumes have been introduced to the Newdegate region over recent decades, wheat and sheep continue to be the regions’ primary agricultural products.

Like the broader Wheatbelt region, Newdegate receives most of its annual rainfall between May and October, with a majority falling in the mid-winter months of June and July. Owing to Newdegate’s location in the eastern region of the Wheatbelt, annual rainfall is more variable from year to year than in areas located further to the west. A majority of the growing season rainfall is received from cold fronts that sweep across the south-west landmass. In summer, isolated storm systems deliver rain to the region, though their occurrence and geographical range is highly variable. Frost is a persistent risk in the

Newdegate area, particularly during spring. Average rainfall and temperature data for the Newdegate area are provided in Appendix 1.

Consistent with observed regional climate trends, the Newdegate area has experienced significant climatic change over recent years. Analysis of annual rainfall trends conducted by David Gray of DAFWA reveals a significant winter drying trend in the period 2000 to 2012 as compared with the long term historical average 1923 to 1999. Figure 2 below depicts deviation in fortnightly rainfall totals (mm) from the historical average (marked along the ‘0’ line). The greatest reductions in annual rainfall through this period have occurred during the autumn and early winter periods. This is consistent with region-wide observations of rainfall decline presented by the IOCI (2012). The figure also depicts an increase in non-season (summer) rainfall over the same period, both during the beginning of the year (January) and at the end of the year (November and December). Although the IOCI reports no discernible summer rainfall trend in the broader Wheatbelt, an increased prevalence of extreme rainfall events has contributed to an increase in summer rainfall totals in some areas. This may explain the increased summer rainfall observed in the Newdegate district in this period.

-2 02-Jul-13 16-Jul-13 30-Jul-13 01-Jan-13 15-Jan-13 29-Jan-13 04-Jun-13 18-Jun-13 08-Oct-13 22-Oct-13 09-Apr-13 23-Apr-13 12-Feb-13 26-Feb-13 10-Sep-13 24-Sep-13 03-Dec-13 17-Dec-13 13-Aug-13 27-Aug-13 05-Nov-13 19-Nov-13 12-Mar-13 26-Mar-13 07-May-13 21-May-13 -4 Millimetres of rainfall

-6

-8

Fortnight

Figure 2. South Newdegate fortnightly rainfall deviation (mm) for the period 2000-2012 against the 1923-1999 average (NOTE: dates are shown for 2013). Analysis conducted by D. Gray, Department of Agriculture and Food Western Australia. Reprinted with permission.

Analysis of changes in regional winter isohyets is also of particular interest to the Newdegate case study site. Isohyets are geographical regions that receive a similar amount of rainfall. Figure 3 below depicts growing season isohyets (May to October) in the Wheatbelt. Moving from left to right, the green lines represent the historical boundaries of the 450mm, 225mm and 175mm growing season isohyets respectively for the period 1910 to 1999. Historically, Newdegate has been approximately located on the boundary of the 225mm growing season isohyet. However, in the period 2000 to 2011, the region’s growing season isohyets shifted in a south-westerly direction. This shift has been particularly dramatic in the Lakes District, where the 225mm isohyet has receded between 100km to 150km to the southwest. Farmers in the Newdegate region, along with other communities located adjacent to the 225mm isohyet, have therefore been subject to a drier growing season since 2000 as compared with the period 1910 to 1999. It is important to note that regional isohyets vary naturally in conjunction with annual climate variation. However, as indicated in Figure 3, growing season isohyets are responding to long-term drying trends in the region’s climate profile, which is consistent with local-scale observations presented in Figure 2.

Figure 3. Wheatbelt May-October isohyets 2000-2011 compared to 1910-1999. Reprinted from The Evolution of Drought Policy in Western Australia (p. 10), by the Rural Business Development Unit, 2014, Perth, Western Australia: Department of Food and Agriculture Western Australia. Copyright 2013 by the Western Australian Agricultural Authority. Reprinted with permission.

The Newdegate region has also become more susceptible to September frost risk over the same period. In Figure 4 below, areas marked in red represent locations that have experienced an increased number of September frost events in the 2000s as compared with the 1990s. Given the high geographical specificity of frost, and the lack of longitudinal temperature data at local weather stations, temperature trends cannot be specified at a community level of analysis. However, as shown in Figure 4, it is clear that the Newdegate area is on the front line of frost risk both at a regional and a continental scale.

Figure 4. Difference in the number of September frosts between 2000s and the 1990s. Frost events occur when minimum temperatures fall below -2°C. Reprinted from GRDC Strategic Planning for Investment Based on Agro- Ecological Zones - Second Phase. Draft Report, by D. Stephens et al., 2011, Perth, WA: Department of Agriculture and Food Western Australia. Copyright 2011 by the Western Australian Agriculture Authority. Reprinted with permission.

Increased seasonal variability has also significantly impacted farm production and profitability in the Newdegate district throughout the 2000s. Trends in seasonal variability and its impact on farm business profitability can be ascertained by examining regional wheat yields. Wheat yields are sensitively affected by seasonal weather conditions and are the primary source of farmers’ revenue. It is for these reasons that wheat yield trends are reflective of agricultural production and profitability trends (Kingwell et al., 2013). Wheat yields in the Lake Grace local government area fell below 50 percent of the historical average seven out of ten years in the period 2002 to 2012, and in three of these years (2002, 2004 and 2010) wheat yields fell below 10 percent of the historical average

(Kingwell et al). A report to the Grain Research and Development Corporation by Stephens et al., (2011) reveals further problems. Inter-seasonal wheat yield variability (the primary driver of farm income variability) increased 60 to 80 percent in the period 1994-2009 as compared with 1982-2000. Similarly, Kingwell (2011) shows yield variability in the Lake Grace district ‘hugely increased’ in the period 1974-2009 as compared with 1940-1975. Stephens et al. (2011) also revealed that only modest wheat yield gains (0 to 12 kilograms per hectare) were made in the Lake Grace local government area in the period 1990-2009. This is problematic, as yield increases are required to combat declining terms of trade and worsening environmental conditions (Allison & Hobbs, 2004).

These trends are resulting in poor business outcomes for farm enterprises in the Newdegate area. In a study of farm business performance in the period 2002 to 2011, Kingwell et al. (2013) found the central Wheatbelt region (as denoted by the M2, M3, M4 & M5 agro-ecological zones: see Figure 1) had the highest proportion of ‘less secure farms’12 in the Wheatbelt. However, more telling for the Newdegate district specifically, the study identified the M4 agro-ecological zone as the region with the smallest proportion of farm businesses classified as ‘growing’ or ‘strong.’ The authors attribute this result to the persistent run of poor yields attributable to high climatic variability, poor opening season rainfall and high frost risk.

Given the economic reliance of Newdegate and other Wheatbelt communities on the agricultural sector, adverse climatic conditions not only have the potential to undermine the viability of individual farm enterprises, but also the viability of farming communities and entire agricultural districts (e.g. Marshall et al., 2013a; Rickards & Howden, 2012). As will be discussed in the next chapter, Australia’s agricultural communities are subject to multiple environmental, social and economic pressures that are exacerbated by anthropogenic climate change. Newdegate is one of many small agricultural communities throughout Australia facing these same challenges. However, given the high level of climatic variability endured by farmers in the Newdegate district, and its impact on wheat

12According to Kingwell et al., (2013, p. 58): “A business which achieved a profit at least seven years in ten and showed an increase in equity from 2002 to 2011 was classified as a growing business. The distinction between a growing and strong business was that the strong business only maintained equity and achieved a profit in six of the ten years. Secure businesses could pay for their personal expenses, finance costs and depreciation but they made minimal profit and their equity was either maintained at a constant level or decreased over the period. Less secure businesses failed to achieve a profit after allowing for their finance cost, depreciation and unpaid family labour; and their equity declined as a consequence.”

yields and farm business performance in this area, Newdegate deserves recognition as a community on the front line of climate change risk.

Although the chronic effects of a changing climate are perhaps not as obvious as those associated with weather-related disasters such as flood or drought, throughout this thesis I demonstrate their impacts are no less devastating for people whose deeply rooted sense of place is anchored in a home environment subject to the vagaries of an increasingly variable and drier climate. As a district that has undergone a rapid transition from an historically reliable agricultural area to a region characterised by high climate uncertainty, Newdegate offers a salient location for the exploration of farmers’ sense of place and place-based distress in the context of a rapidly changing climate.

4.4 Methods The research employed various qualitative methods as part of the overarching case study design. Core data regarding farmers’ sense of place and experiences of climate-driven place-based distress were obtained via a three-part semi-structured interview series conducted with 22 farmers from the Newdegate district. The three interview rounds were conducted throughout the 2013-14 agricultural season (see timeline: Figure 6). Additional data regarding farmers’ sense of place and emotional/psychological responses to observed climatic changes were sourced from interviews with key informants representing community and governmental mental health organisations. Other data collection methods and sources were also employed in this research, including participant observation, photography, and academic literature. Data regarding climate change and its impact on the Wheatbelt SES were acquired from various primary and secondary sources. Primary sources included semi-structured interviews with key informants representing governmental agencies, peak agricultural bodies, and private agricultural consultants. Key informants were sought through internet searches and snowball sampling techniques. Secondary sources included governmental/industry reports and statistics, news articles, archival data provided by the Newdegate Historical Society and academic literature.

The various qualitative methods employed in this study are described below. Because community member participants and key informants provided the majority of data used in this research, the following methods section is split accordingly to reflect the different methodological procedures employed for these two groups of participants. Following this discussion, additional data collection methods are then outlined.

Figure 5. Thesis timeline showing year and season (red), timing of data collection activities (blue) and significant climate events across Australia (orange) and the Wheatbelt (khaki) during the data collection period.

4.4.1 Community member participants

4.4.1.1 Sampling Twenty-two family farmers from the Newdegate area participated in the research. A purposive recruitment strategy (Teddlie & Yu, 2007) was employed. Individuals from farming families who owned, managed, and lived upon their farming properties at the time of the research and who were over 18 years of age were invited to participate. Farm managers, farm hands and/or others who did not own, manage, or live upon their farming properties were excluded from this research.

Participant recruitment ran from December 2012 to February 2013. In the December of 2012, a media release was placed in the local community newsletter (Appendix 2) and fliers placed in residents’ post boxes along with an introductory letter with the permission of the Newdegate Post Office manager (Appendix 3). Also at this time, I delivered a presentation to the Newdegate Community Development Association detailing the aims and purposes of the research project. Approximately half of all community member participants were recruited from this meeting. Prospective participants who contacted the researcher were provided with an Information and Consent form (Appendix 4). Once prospective participants had agreed to take part in the research, interview arrangements were made for the following March (2013). Participants were also asked to promote the study via word of mouth around the community. Several community members provided contact details for friends, family and neighbours. In such instances, potential participants were contacted via telephone with the permission of those who had given their contact details.

4.4.1.2 Demographics An equal number of men and women participated in the research (M: 11; F: 11). A majority of participants fell in the 50-59 and 60-69 age range (see Figure 6 next page). This is consistent with the average age of Australian farmers more generally (National Farmers Federation, 2012). Where possible, members from the same family were recruited. In total, nine farming families are represented in this study. In three instances, two generations of the same family are represented, thus facilitating cross-generational comparisons of farmers’ sense of place. In addition, of the participants recruited, 20 were married couples. This allowed the family dynamics and the gendered experiences of place-based distress to be observed.

4 No. of participants 3

0 20-29 30-39 40-49 50-59 60-69 70-79

Age (years)

Figure 6. Community member participant age (years).

All family farming enterprises represented in this study owned and managed rainfed broadacre farming systems. Eight were mixed (cropping and livestock) and one cropping- specialist. Wheat was the principal crop across all enterprises and provided the main source of farm income. Other common crops included canola, barley and, to a lesser extent, legumes. This is typical for family farming enterprises across the Wheatbelt (Kingwell et al., 2013). Mixed enterprises also produced sheep and, in one instance, beef. The area owned and leased varied considerably between family farmers, ranging from a minimum of 5,300 hectares (ha) through to 17,000ha. Again, this is consistent with farm size variability in the district.

Four groups of participants emerged from the recruitment process. These are termed ‘generational’, ‘new-land’, ‘established’ and ‘marital’. Generational farmers refer to those participants that have either succeeded, or are in the process of succeeding, their fathers/parents for the ownership and control of the family farming enterprise. In this study, all generational farmers were male, reflecting the patriarchal lineage of farm succession in the Wheatbelt and in Australian agriculture more generally (Alston, 2004). Two sub-groups of generational farmers emerged: ‘mature’ and ‘young’. Mature generational farmers were those who had inherited the family farm from their fathers but at the time of the study had handed over operational and financial responsibilities to their sons. ‘Young’ generational farmers refer to the sons of ‘mature’ generational farmers. In all instances, young generational farmers had assumed primary responsibility for farm management decisions. In each case, however, mature generational farmers were still somewhat involved with farm management decisions.

The second group, ‘new-land farmers’, had relocated from their traditional family farming homelands to take up ‘Conditional Purchase’ blocks around the Newdegate district. Conditional purchase agreements were pursued by the State Government to encourage the expansion of agricultural districts and involved the provision of land at discounted prices in return for farm development activities (Beresford et al., 2001). In this study, all new-land farmers had undertaken extensive clearing operations in the first few years of their solo farming careers.

‘Established’ farmers represent those who had bought existing farming enterprises. Established farmers had no prior family connection to the current farming property, nor had they engaged in extensive clearing practices. Only one ‘established’ farming family was represented in this study.

‘Marital’ farmers represent those who have become associated with the farming property by way of marriage. This was representative of all but one female participant recruited in this study. The majority of female participants were from farming families located either within the Newdegate district or elsewhere in the Wheatbelt. In most cases, female farmers had no business-related association with their former family farming properties, having married into a pre-existing or developing farming enterprises associated with their husband’s family. Only two female farmers retained business relationships to their former family farming properties. In no cases were female farmers living upon their original family farms.

4.4.1.3 Data collection Before conducting the interviews, participants were invited to read an Information Statement outlining the details of the research project. After agreeing to participate, community members were asked to sign a Consent Form (see Appendix 4) detailing their role in the research and their rights as participants. Participants were informed that they would remain anonymous and that any information they provided would remain confidential. Participants were also advised of their right to withdraw from the research project at any time with no consequence to themselves. Permission to record interviews using a small digital audio device was sought at this time. All community member participants were informed that the research project had been granted ethics approval by Murdoch University (ethics approval number 2012/220).

The timing of the subsequent interview rounds was negotiated with community members during recruitment. Timing is an important concern when conducting research amongst

farming communities given the seasonality of agricultural work. As a result, interviews were conducted between or leading up to key agricultural periods throughout the 2013-14 season. This also afforded an opportunity to observe the impact of weather variability on community sentiment and farmers’ place-related mental wellbeing throughout the course of an agricultural season.

Round 1

The first interview round was in-depth and exploratory, and consisted of five research themes drawn from the academic literature. These included:

• participant and farm enterprise information;

• observations and experiences of environmental (land and climate) change and/or degradation;

• sense of place (place emotions, place identity, place dependence);

• personal impacts of landscape and/or seasonal changes; and

• expectations of future environmental conditions and the future of Newdegate as an agricultural community.

Each interview round in the three-part series followed a semi-structured format. However, the structure of the first interview round was kept to a minimum to allow novel research themes to emerge. The interview schedule used during the first interview round is presented in Appendix 5. Eighteen of the first-round interviews were conducted in the Newdegate Community Resource Centre. This location was chosen so that trust and rapport could be developed with participants in a neutral site in preparation for future interview rounds to be conducted at the participants’ home-farms. The remaining six interviews were conducted at the participants’ home-farms by their request. Participants from the same farming family were interviewed separately to allow participants greater freedom to express their own views with regard to potentially sensitive issues. All first- round interviews lasted between 30 to 90 minutes.

With the signed permission of the participants, all interviews throughout the course of the three-part series were recorded with the aid of two small audio recording devices. Hand written notes were also taken throughout the course of the interviews. All interviews were transcribed verbatim. The resulting transcripts were then entered into NVivo 10 and coded

for emergent themes commensurate with the procedures of Applied Thematic Analysis outlined by Guest, MacQueen, and Namey (2012). Analytical procedures are discussed in greater depth in Section 4.5. Themes developed in the first round of interviews focused the line of questioning pursued in the second interview round.

Round 2

Climate change emerged as a central theme in the first interview round. Building upon this theme, the second interview round contained a series of questions regarding the timing, extent and impact of observed climatic changes. In conjunction, other climate-related themes were pursued, which included:

• farmers’ sources of weather/climate information;

• farmers’ confidence in the accuracy and reliability of weather forecasts;

• the influence of the weather on decision-making and farm management; and

• relationships between seasonal conditions and personal wellbeing.

The second interview round also provided an opportunity to further explore sense of place themes that arose in the first interview round. This included additional questions focused on farmers’ place identity, place attachment, place dependence, place-based distress, and follow-up questions regarding home-work tensions operating on the family farming property. The interview schedule used in the second interview round is provided in Appendix 6.

All 22 participants were available for the second interview round. As with each of the three interview rounds, all participants were contacted a fortnight prior to my arrival in Newdegate to arrange a convenient interview time. A majority of the interviews were conducted in early September; however two families were away at that time, necessitating a second visit to Newdegate in early November to complete the interview round. All second round interviews were conducted with participants on their home-farms. Interviewing participants in their respective homes was employed as a strategy to facilitate their reflections on their sense of place. This follows recommendations made by Elwood and Martin (2000) who argue careful consideration should be given to the interview location, particularly when a location, and human relations to it, are the main focus of the research inquiry.

The second interview round followed a more targeted and less exploratory structure than in round one. However, emergent themes could still be developed given the semi- structured interview format. All interviews lasted between 60 to 150 minutes. Participants were offered a break half way through and were presented with a small bag of chocolates as a token of appreciation for their time.

Following the completion of the interviews, participants were invited to take me on a guided tour of their farming properties. Given the length of the second-round interviews I was conscious of participant fatigue and was careful not to unfavourably impose myself on the participants’ time. Farm tours were negotiated informally and were only pursued with the approval and willingness of the participating farming families. Given time constraints, only four out of the nine farming families were available to conduct farm tours. The tours were pursued as informal means to further facilitate participants’ reflections upon their sense of place. During the farm tours, photographs and journal notes were developed as evidence to support emerging themes resulting from participants interviews. In addition to these purposes, farm tours provided me an opportunity to become better accustomed to agricultural practices and a farming way of life. Coming from a non-farming background, part of my research process was to become familiar enough with agricultural terminology and farming practices to engage farmers in conversation about key environmental, social, economic and political issues that may be impacting their sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing.

Data from the second interview round were then coded for emergent themes. Themes emerging from this process informed the line of questioning pursued in the third interview round.

Round 3

The third interview round was conducted after the completion of the 2013-14 season. This gave participants an opportunity to reflect on what would be a tumultuous agricultural season for Newdegate and the broader Wheatbelt region (see Chapter 5). Following on from the second round of interviews in which farmers’ observations of the climate and sense of place were examined in depth, the third round of interviews framed these two issues in the context of climate-adaptation/resilience. Specific themes included:

• on-farm adaptation strategies to climatic variability and their motivation;

• sense of place and its influence on personal resilience;

• perceptions of climate change risk and its potential future impacts on their own farming futures and the future of the Newdegate community;

• generational shifts in place-related values; and

• expectations and confidence in the future of family farming.

Due to personal commitments, only 18 of the 22 participants were available for the third interview round. Approximately half of the interviews were conducted in participants’ homes, while the other half were conducted at the Newdegate Community Resource Centre. Interview locations were chosen on the basis that they were convenient for the participants. As with the previous two interviews, the third round of interviews followed a semi-structured format to allow emergent themes to develop (see Appendix 7). Interviews lasted between 30 to 60 minutes. After completion, participants were thanked for their support of the project over the previous eighteen months and were offered a copy of their interview transcripts for comment.

4.4.1.4 Ethical considerations A particularly pressing ethical issue in the context of this research was ensuring the anonymity and confidentiality of community member participants. In a small tightknit community like Newdegate, it is difficult to achieve anonymity due to the content within the quoted sections, as participants may be recognised even when personal identifiers are removed. Participants demonstrated a high level of trust in the researcher, discussing at times highly personal and emotionally sensitive topics. Therefore, it was crucial that individual statements could not be attributed to a particular individual. To achieve this, participants’ names and other potential identifiers (age, place names, names of friends or relatives) were removed from the quoted sections and replaced with pseudonyms. During the member checking process, participants were asked to review the interview transcripts for sensitive content. In some cases, information deemed to be particularly sensitive by the researcher was highlighted and sent to the participant for review. Throughout this process participants had the opportunity to amend content or decline permission for the content to be included in the research. Permission was also sought from participants before taking photographs on private property. Participants had the opportunity to review all photographs and were informed of their right to request their deletion.

Another point of ethical consideration is my personal relationship to the community. My father is a resident of the Newdegate community. In order to avoid potential conflicts of interest and to ensure participant confidentiality and anonymity, my father was not included in this research nor were matters regarding participants discussed with him. Furthermore, my father was not involved in participant recruitment and neither did I reveal the identity of community member participants to him (although several participants made it known to my father that they were part of the research project). At all times, efforts were made to ensure the confidentiality of participants and my father to prevent potential disruptions to pre-existing social and workplace relationships. I acknowledge that my relationship to my father likely afforded me a greater level of acceptance and trust among community member participants than would have been otherwise possible. It is for this reason issues of participant confidentiality were strictly observed.

4.4.2 Key Informants A total of fifteen key informants representing ten different organisations were interviewed between November 2013 and April 2014. Key informants were identified on the basis that they had expert knowledge/experience with agricultural or rural mental health issues in the Wheatbelt. A list of key informants and the organisations they represent is presented on the next page in Table 1. Agricultural key informants consisted of a range of specialists, including economists, agronomists, advocacy groups, local farmers, financial advisors, and climatologists. Rural mental health key informants represented various community health educators, counsellors, registered psychologists, and local GPs. Where possible, local and regional representatives were sought from the same organisation so that issues identified at a local level could be assessed as being specific to a particular location or relevant to the Wheatbelt region more generally (and vice versa).

A surprising amount of overlap was noted in the expertise of the two groups. Agricultural key informants were sensitive to issues of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing and, conversely, rural mental health experts were knowledgeable of the broader agricultural, economic and social issues impacting their clientele. Not only is this indicative of the success community health groups have had in highlighting mental health as an area of concern for agricultural specialists, it also speaks to an understanding of farmers’ health and wellbeing as being sensitively connected to the broader socio-ecological context of agriculture as an industry and as a way of life.

Table 2. Agricultural Institutions and Rural Mental Health Organisations Represented in this Research

Agricultural Institutions and Rural Mental Health Organisations Represented in the Research Sector Organisation No. of participants Department of Food and Agriculture Western 1 Australia (DAFWA)

Australian Export Grains Innovation Centre 2 (AEGIC) Agriculture WA Farmers Federation 2

Combined Agronomic Service 1

Rural Financial Counselling Service of Western 2 Australia (RFCSWA)

Farming and Beyond 1

Regional Men’s Health Initiative 3 Rural and community Southern Ag Care 1 mental health General Practitioner (Lake Grace area) 1

Wheatbelt Mental Health Service 1

Key informants were identified through an internet search of local government websites and region-wide service providers. In some cases, key informant participants provided contact details of colleagues who they thought could contribute important insights regarding the aims and goals of the research. Prospective key informants were contacted via email or by telephone and sent an information and consent form detailing the aims and purposes of the research project (Appendix 8). As a courtesy, a draft interview schedule was also sent to key informants before the interview. Key informants were advised to seek permission from a superior before agreeing to take part in the research project where applicable.

All interviews followed a semi-structured format, the content of which was tailored to the specific area of expertise of the individual key informant. Ten of the fifteen key informant interviews were conducted in person at a time and location convenient for the key

informant participant. The remainder of the interviews were conducted via telephone due to logistical/time constraints. All interviews lasted between 30 to 90 minutes. Interviews were recorded with the use of two digital audio recording devices with permission from the participant. The resulting audio was transcribed verbatim and analysed for emergent themes in line with the procedures of applied thematic analysis outlined in Section 4.5.

4.4.3 Additional data collection methods In addition to the community member and key informant interviews previously outlined, various other qualitative data collection methods were employed throughout the course of this research. Archival data documenting the development of the Newdegate Township and the surrounding farmland was provided by the Newdegate Historical Society to inform the historical context of this case study. Personal photographs documenting clearing practices, extreme weather events, and farming practices were provided by several farming families and used to gain a deeper understanding of participants’ lived experiences of climate and place. In addition, over 800 news stories (print, online, radio and television) were collected from mid-2012 through to the completion of this research in mid-2015. News articles pertaining to social, economic and environmental issues impacting the Wheatbelt and the broader Australian agricultural sector were collected from various sources, including Farm Weekly, the West Australian and the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). A formal media analysis was beyond the scope of this thesis. Instead, the various types of media collected in this research facilitated the development of context-specific questions for community member and key informant participants and afforded a longitudinal perspective to the various environmental, economic and social trends that impacted the Wheatbelt SES throughout the course of the research.

Another substantial element of the data collection process included ethnographic fieldwork techniques, such as attending community meetings and participating in community-based activities. For instance, I attended two agricultural crisis meetings held in response to mounting community concern regarding spiralling rural debt, persistent drought, and a perceived lack of response by the State Government. Meetings held in Kulin (Feb, 2013) and Merredin (April, 2013) were graphic expressions of the distress felt by family farmers and rural community members at that time. I also attended the 2013 Newdegate Field Days, one of the largest agricultural field days in the State. This provided me an opportunity to speak with farmers and others associated with the agricultural industry in an informal setting.

As with any community in rural Australia, sport is a primary source of social interaction in Newdegate. Throughout the course of the data collection period I participated in various formal and informal lawn bowl tournaments, representing Newdegate on one occasion. I also took part in informal bar work and food preparation for community events. These actions, though not premeditated, helped to build rapport with community members and perhaps facilitated a greater level of openness during the interview process than otherwise may have been the case.

4.5 Analytical procedures All community member and key informant interviews were transcribed verbatim (77 interviews comprising 75 hours of audio). The resulting transcripts yielded approximately 800,000 words of data which then formed the basis of the analysis. All transcripts were checked for accuracy. This provided an opportunity to become immersed in the data, a key process in qualitative analysis (Silverman, 2005).

Before conducting the analysis, community member participants were contacted via telephone and invited to comment on the interview transcripts. Participants were asked to review transcripts for accuracy and to highlight sensitive data they may wish to have removed. Approximately half of the community member participants engaged with the member checking exercise. For those who wished to participate in this process, transcripts were sent electronically to participants’ email accounts. Participants were given three weeks to comment after which time it would be assumed no further corrections or comments would be necessary. Because key informant interviews did not include personal or potentially sensitive content, these interviews were not subject to a member checking process.

Once comments were received, all community participant and key informant interview data were entered into QSR NVivo 10 and analysed following the analytical procedures of applied thematic analysis (ATA) described by Guest et al. (2012). ATA is a form of thematic analysis comprising an inductive set of procedures used to identify patterns of meaning from textual data (Guest et al. 2012). Community member interview data were initially grouped following structural coding procedures. Structural coding uses the interview schedule as a framework for coding and organising textual data. The data were segmented based on the questions and/or prompts used in the interview schedules together with the responses given by the research participants. Each interview question and related response therefore translated directly into a structured code. In instances where participants’

responses corresponded to two or more questions, the response was coded accordingly into its subsequent codes.

Codes were then aggregated into higher order themes on the basis of the analytical objectives of this research. The five higher order themes included:

1. Sense of place

2. Farm management (practices and decision making)

3. Climate (observations and understandings)

4. Lived experiences of the 2013-14 agricultural season

5. Future perspectives

Once grouped, the data were re-read and examined for emergent themes which were then coded for content. In NVivo, this represented a process of creating ‘sub nodes’ derived from the higher order themes (coded as ‘tree nodes’). For example, several sub nodes were derived from the ‘farm management’ theme, including: ‘farm practices’, ‘decision making’, ‘weather’, and ‘place identity’. In many cases, however, the sub nodes were found to overlap. For instance, participants’ farm practices were informed by decision-making processes that, in turn, were found to be influenced by the weather and their place identity. Furthermore, ‘weather’ and ‘place identity’ were equally strong themes to emerge within the ‘sense of place’ tree node. The interconnectedness of the themes demonstrates the complexity inherent within qualitative data analysis and highlights the need for researchers to attend concomitantly to the specific and broad themes that emerge from the data analysis process.

Structural coding procedures could not be applied to the analysis of key informant interview data given the differentiated content discussed in each interview. Instead, key informant data were coded in relation to themes emerging from the community member participant interviews. These coding procedures allowed consistencies and discrepancies to be identified between key informant and community member participant interview data. This was a vital process for discerning tensions and inconsistencies between farmers’ lived experiences of place, the biophysical realities of climate change (as discerned from meteorological data and analysis provided by professional climatologists), and broader societal valuations of place contained within agricultural policies. These tensions are discussed further in Chapter 9.

Statements from community members and key informants are used to illustrate key points and to support the arguments made in the thesis. Quotes taken from interview material are italicised. Personal identifiers (full names and initials) have been replaced with pseudonyms or omitted where appropriate. News stories, archival data, and photographs are included to clarify or support themes arising from the analysis of the interview material.

4.6 Evaluative criteria Due to the differentiated and variegated nature of qualitative methodology, it is generally agreed that no single set of evaluative criteria can be employed to assess the quality and rigour of all qualitative research (Whittemore, Chase, & Mandle, 2001). In response, Creswell (2013) recommends evaluative criteria to be chosen on the basis that they are applicable to the aims and methods of a particular research project. This is not to say each research project should outline its own esoteric criteria for establishing rigour and quality; instead, established evaluative criteria should be applied in a manner that is sensitive to the idiosyncrasies of the particular research project (Whittemore et al. 2001).

Four strategies were employed in the thesis to address issues of researcher bias and to improve methodological and analytical rigour: member checks, triangulation, prolonged engagement and positionality. Member checking has already been discussed earlier in this chapter; the latter three strategies are discussed here.

4.6.1 Triangulation Triangulation is a process that involves corroborating multiple streams of evidence for the purpose of enhancing the confidence with which research findings can be said to reflect the characteristics of a phenomenon or issue of interest (Creswell, 2013). As an evaluative criterion, triangulation is an important strategy for ensuring the quality and rigour of case study research and provides a methodological avenue for the investigation of multi-faceted research problems that display complex qualities (Yin, 2014).

Two forms of triangulation were employed in this thesis. The first refers to ‘data triangulation’, a process that involves collating data gathered from various sources and at different times (Denzin, 1970). In this research, data triangulation was achieved by collating interview material generated by the three-part interview series and by corroborating data derived from various sources (e.g. community members, key informants, news articles, academic literature). Where applicable, research findings were supported by data gathered from various sources or at different times, thereby strengthening the reliability of the findings.

The second form of triangulation employed in the thesis refers to ‘methodological triangulation.’ This a process that involves corroborating data sourced from multiple data collection methods. Data collection methods are subject to biases that have the potential to undermine the validity and reliability of the data. By employing multiple methods, individual sources of bias are thought to be lessened and the overall quality of the data improved. As discussed previously in this chapter, various qualitative data collection methods were employed in this thesis in an effort to enhance the legitimacy of the research findings.

Not only was the use of multiple data collection methods important for issues of quality and rigour, it was also important for engaging with the complexities of farmers’ sense of place and the dynamics of the Wheatbelt SES. Both phenomena have various biophysical and subjective attributes that cannot be fully attended to through any one methodological strategy. As such, and consistent with a critical realist perspective, multiple methods are required to illuminate different facets of the same complex phenomenon, particularly when that phenomenon transects biophysical and social realities (Yeung, 1997).

4.6.2 Prolonged engagement A second validation strategy employed in this thesis is prolonged engagement. According to Creswell, this strategy involves “building trust with participants, learning the culture, and checking for misinformation that stems from distortions introduced by the researcher or informants” (2013, p. 251). The longitudinal design employed in this research afforded me the opportunity to engage with community member participants and with issues confronting the Wheatbelt region in a prolonged manner. Contact was maintained with community member participants throughout an eighteen-month period (November 2012 to April 2014) in which I conducted ten field work trips and spent seven weeks living in the community. In addition, I collected over 800 news articles throughout this period so that I could keep abreast with issues relevant to farming families and the broader Wheatbelt agricultural industry as they emerged.

Prolonged engagement offered several advantages for this thesis. First, the complexities surrounding farmers’ sense of place and place-based distress, particularly as they relate to changing seasonal conditions, could be investigated more thoroughly than otherwise afforded by a cross-sectional research design. Because farmers’ lifestyles and livelihoods are sensitively coupled with ever changing environmental, economic, social and cultural conditions, the longitudinal design employed in this thesis allowed me to examine climate-

driven place-based distress as a highly dynamic phenomenon arising from complex interactions between people, place and society through time. Furthermore, this allowed me to identify the seasonally-dependent nature of climate-driven place based distress and to track community sentiment over the course of an agricultural season.

Prolonged engagement was also crucial for developing my research practice. Research questions and themes were developed iteratively, thereby allowing me to more sensitively attend to the research themes as they developed and changed through time. In addition, continued engagement with participants and the research context allowed me to build rapport and trust with participants and provided me with crucial insights into an agricultural way of life. Coming from a non-farming background, this was particularly important for my ability to engage with participants in an empathetic and meaningful way. As a result, I believe this sustained engagement enhanced by ability to faithfully represent farmers’ sense of place and their lived experiences of climate-driven place-based distress.

4.6.3 Positionality A final validation strategy, and one particularly important in the context of place-related research, is to make explicit potential biases held by the researcher that may influence methodological decisions and the interpretation of findings (Creswell, 2013). This is a crucial task from a critical realist perspective, as the production of knowledge is assumed to be socially-contingent and therefore necessarily shaped by the values and worldviews of the researcher. Throughout the current and previous chapters, I have tried to make as explicit as possible my metaphysical, theoretical and methodological choices and my reasons behind them. The purpose for doing so is to ensure the findings presented in this thesis are evaluated against the internal consistency of the metaphysical, theoretical and methodological approaches taken here and their appropriateness in achieving the stated aims and goals of the research.

However, three further potential sources of bias also need to be highlighted. First, from my perspective, scientists and scholars have a moral obligation to engage with the politics of climate change and have the right to challenge prevailing worldviews that permeate our societal, economic and cultural institutions. With regard to mitigating anthropogenic climate change, I agree with a growing body of scholars that it is not enough for scientists and researchers to present ‘facts’ denuded of their political context (see, for example: Ehrlich, 2014; Miklkoreit, Moore, Schoon, & Meek, 2015; Recher, 2015; Reynolds, Smith, & Farmer, 2014). Indeed, presenting ‘facts’ has done little to curb global greenhouse gas

emissions, stem species loss, reduce environmental degradation, or to promote the health of global ecosystems and the endemic and intrinsic value of places as worthy causes for political action (Klein, 2014). Instead, researchers must step outside of their disciplinary bounds to recognise the political forces and vested interests that perpetuate climate denialism and inaction.

To this end, the thesis is designed not only to highlight farmers’ intrinsic place-based values, but also to challenge the normative political and economic tenets of economic rationalism (or ‘neoliberalism’) which I view as an increasingly maladaptive set of values for addressing anthropogenic climate change, ecosystem health, and human health and wellbeing. This is supported by my critical realist position: although knowledge of nature is scientifically-constructed, socially-medicated, and therefore only ever incomplete, this does not mean we should do away with an objective biophysical reality. Once we accept the existence of a mind-independent biophysical reality, pluralist value and ethical positions can be evaluated for their compatibility with sustaining the planetary ecological web upon which we all depend. There are mounting arguments against the compatibility of the neoliberal socio-political paradigm with the long-term sustainability of human societies and ecological resilience (Francis, 2015; Klein, 2014; Plumwood, 2002; Steffen et al., 2011). As such, while my views towards economic rationalism have undoubtedly shaped my interpretation and approach to this thesis, given economic rationalism’s privileged status as a normative discourse in many areas of Australian political and economic thinking (Cheshire & Lawrence, 2005; Nevile, 1997; Plumwood, 2002; Stratton, 2009; Tonts & McKenzie, 2005), and its damaging impact on planetary life-support systems, I believe critical reflection upon its tenets is justified.

Second, it is important to recognise that being a white Australian male most likely afforded me a greater level of access to community participants, and perhaps allowed me a greater capacity to achieve an ‘insider’ status within rural community settings than women or others from different ethnic backgrounds. Indeed, rural Australia continues to be largely dominated by cultural scripts associated with (white) male privilege (e.g. Alston, 2004), and this is particularly evident in farming communities where males largely continue to be the primary owners and managers of family farming establishments. Furthermore, the archetypal farming identity continues to be dominated by rural masculinities (e.g. Alston & Kent, 2008; Bryant & Garnham, 2008). Therefore, although it was beyond the scope of this thesis to explicitly engage with gendered experiences of place and climate change, I

acknowledge that such gendered experiences do exist; that future research should attend to them; and that my own position of white male privilege undoubtedly flavoured my position within the community, my relationships with participants, and the manner in which the research was conducted.

Last, it must also be acknowledged that my father is a resident of Newdegate and that he has worked as a farm-hand for several family farming establishments throughout the region. Again, this elevated my position within the community and eased my transition into ‘insider’ status. Being the son of a local resident presented several ethical challenges that required explicit attention during the data collection phase of the study. For further detail, please refer back to Section 4.4.1.4.

4.7 Conclusions and reflections Throughout the course of this and the preceding chapter, I have made my metaphysical, theoretical and methodological choices explicit and highlighted potential biases and conflicts of interest that may have influenced my findings and their interpretation. Given the openness of place to various paradigmatic perspectives, critical reflection upon my theoretical and methodological choices is important for situating this research so that it may be evaluated within the parameters of its own internal logic rather than against competing research paradigms. As demonstrated in the previous chapter, many of the methodological and conceptual conflicts present in the place literature today result from attempts to evaluate research findings or integrate methodologies within incommensurate paradigms (Patterson & Williams, 2005). To avoid exacerbating this situation, I have presented a methodology that is consistent with the aims and goals of the research project, the characteristics of the phenomena under investigation, and the internal logic underlying critical realism and the ecohealth theoretical framework.

The qualitative case study design described throughout this chapter has been argued to provide the most appropriate methodological approach for the investigation of farmers’ sense of place and place-based distress in the context of a rapidly changing climate. Given that this research investigates complex phenomena that cannot be divorced from their contexts, a case study design is justified. The use of multiple qualitative methods, the inductive research design, and engagement with various stakeholders allows the complexities of farmers’ sense of place to be articulated in a systematic manner and speaks to the advantages of the participatory and transdisciplinary approach taken in this thesis. Further, the methodology outlined here is consistent with the tenets of critical realism in

situating the voices of farmers and key informants within their broader socio-ecological contexts, and by drawing on meteorological evidence to allow these voices to be interrogated against a biophysical environment that is objectively transforming due to human pressures.

Following on from the metaphysical, theoretical and methodological approach now described, the next chapter examines how anthropogenic climate change has shaped the evolution and resilience of the Wheatbelt SES. The discussion presented in Chapter 5 provides context for the examination of family farmers’ sense of place and climate-induced place-based distress presented in Chapters 6 and 7 respectively, and provides a platform from which to consider future climate change impacts on family farmers’ sense of place and the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES discussed in Chapter 8.

Chapter 5: A resilience analysis of the Western Australian Wheatbelt ______

5.1 Introduction From an ecohealth perspective, issues of human health and wellbeing cannot be divorced from their broader environmental, economic and social contexts. Contextual forces operating across various geographical and temporal scales shape the environments in which human health and wellbeing are situated. Similarly, in resource dependent communities operating within market economies, vital connections between people and place are intimately linked to local and global drivers of change. An individual’s sense of place, in such circumstances, is tied to global market forces, national and international economic policy frameworks, and environmental factors that impact upon the natural resource base and its productive capacity. It is in this context that questions regarding an individual’s sense of place and place-related wellbeing require us to expand our field of analysis to consider the broader environmental, economic and social forces that have to potential to maintain or break apart the potential for individuals, groups and entire populations to retain their livelihoods and lifestyles within a particular location (Tanner et al., 2015).

By critically applying the heuristics of complex adaptive systems and resilience theory, the purpose of this chapter is to identify how vital connections between people and place are being altered in the Wheatbelt by a changing climate via local-to-global socio-ecological processes. Specifically, the chapter aims to identify the factors that have shaped family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to a changing climate, and to what extent climate change can be implicated in the pervasive decline of farm establishment numbers in the Wheatbelt since 1970.

It is argued that family farmers’ ability to navigate the risks associated with a changing climate is related, in part, to the resilience of the broader Wheatbelt SES. Drawing upon multiple streams of evidence, it is shown that climate change, via a confluence of internal and external environmental, economic and social drivers, pushed the Wheatbelt SES to a point of extremely low resilience through the 2000s, thus leaving many family farmers highly exposed and vulnerable to climatic and economic risks. From this discussion, it is concluded that the current configuration of the Wheatbelt SES ensures that climate

change, in the short-term, poses a significant risk to the continued viability of a substantial percentage of the region’s family farmers. However, as will be discussed in Chapter 8, without significant intervention, climate change may pose an existential threat to the very possibility of family farming into the future and thus place at risk the possibility of an endemic farming-based sense of place in the Wheatbelt.

The chapter provides a brief overview of resilience theory before moving on to discuss the drivers of change operating within and upon the Wheatbelt SES. An outline of the historical interaction of these drivers is then presented as well as their influence upon family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to climate risks. This discussion is made in relation to the four- phase adaptive cycle first developed by Holling (1995) and later refined by Holling and Gunderson (2002), which details the movement of natural, social and coupled SESs through periods of high and low resilience. The Wheatbelt SES will be shown to have been pushed towards the cusp of a ‘tipping point’ in the 2013-14 season by a confluence of environmental, economic and social drivers operating across various spatial and temporal scales. Findings from this chapter situate farmers’ lived experiences of place and climate change (discussed in Chapters 6 and 7 respectively) and provide a platform from which to interrogate possible future climate change impacts on the evolution of the Wheatbelt SES in Chapter 8.

5.2 Resilience theory ‘Resilience’, in formal academic theory, refers to the capacity of natural, social or coupled SESs to retain their normal functions despite enduring temporary shocks or disturbances (Holling, 1973; Holling, Gunderson, & Ludwig, 2002a; Walker, 2006; Walker, Holling, Carpenter, & Kinzig, 2004). Originally developed by ecologists in the 1970s as a framework for understanding how ecosystems respond to stress (Folke, 2006), today it is understood that ecological and social systems are interlinked, and their resilience interdependent (e.g. Adger, 2000; Brown, 2014; Rapport & Maffi, 2011).13 Resilience has become an important point of consideration in the analysis of how communities and social institutions respond and adapt to environmental change (Arctic Council., 2013; Lankester, 2013; Marshall, 2010; Marshall & Stokes, 2014b) and for assessing the risks imposed on people and places by a changing climate (IPCC, 2014).

13It is important to note that the ‘resilience’ framework does not capture the full literature on ecosystem/socio-ecological system disturbance, change and adaptation. For example, see Rapport and Reigier (1995) and Rapport and Whitford (1999) for how ecosystems respond to chronic anthropogenic stressors.

5.2.1 Foundations of resilience theory Resilience theory is predicated on the assumption that SESs have the potential to evolve towards multiple ‘steady states’ (Holling et al., 2002a; Walker & Salt, 2006). Each steady state consists of various feedbacks and patterns of order operating among a handful of variables or ‘drivers’ that maintain the stability of a system. In SESs, drivers include aspects of the natural environment (e.g. climate, geology, biodiversity) and the social environment (e.g. social relationships, economic processes, cultural heritage, political systems and societal values). It is the complex and non-linear interaction of environmental and social drivers across space and time that defines the ‘identity’ of a SES and its capacity to be resilient against external shocks and disturbances (Allison & Hobbs, 2006; Holling & Gunderson, 2002; Walker & Salt, 2006).

A system displaying high resilience is flexible, adaptable and able to retain its normal structure despite enduring temporary setbacks; in contrast, systems low in resilience are rigid and brittle, and are therefore vulnerable to external sources of variability (Adger, 2006; Folke, 2006; Holling & Gunderson, 2002; Walker, 2006; Walker & Salt, 2006). Vulnerability describes a situation in which people and environments have become susceptible to harm (Adger, 2006). It is for this reason that vulnerability, in contrast to resilience, is typically portrayed in negative terms (Adger, 2006).

Processes operating internally and externally to the system govern the resilience or vulnerability of an SES. These processes are described by complex adaptive systems theory (see: Gunderson & Holling, 2002). Most SESs are open complex adaptive systems; that is, most SESs are able to adapt and self-organise in response to changing environmental, economic or social conditions (Walker & Salt, 2006). However, the ability of an SES to self- organise and adapt to changing circumstances expands and contracts in response to its position within the adaptive cycle (see Figure 7).

The adaptive cycle describes a process in which the slow accumulation of natural and/or social capital is punctuated by phases of rapid reorganisation. It is in these phases of creative destruction that new patterns of system order emerge (Allison & Hobbs, 2006). As the phases of the adaptive cycle unfold, the resilience of a SES expands and contracts (Holling & Gunderson, 2002). Resilience is at its highest during the reorganisation (α) and exploitation (r) phases, and at its lowest during the release (Ω) and conservation phases (K). The characteristics of each phase of the adaptive cycle and its relationship to resilience are described further in Table 3.

Figure 7. The four-phase adaptive cycle depicting the four potential states of a complex adaptive system: exploitation (r), conservation (K), release (Ω) and reorganisation (α). Adapted from Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems (p. 34), by L. H. Gunderson & C. S. Holling, 2002, Washington: Island Press. Copyright 2002 by Island Press. Reprinted with permission

When an SES has reached a point of low resilience or, conversely, high vulnerability, small disturbances or shocks that would have otherwise had an inconsequential impact on the system may suddenly elicit system-wide changes. In such instances, an SES may ‘flip’ into a new ‘regime’ (Adger, 2006; Holling, 1973, 1995). A ‘regime shift’ describes the movement of an SES from one configuration of interacting variables to another (Walker & Salt, 2006). Regime shifts occur once a ‘critical threshold’ or ‘tipping point’ has been breached, during which time previous patterns of system order are swept away allowing new patterns of organisation to emerge (Cumming & Collier, 2005; Holling & Gunderson, 2002).

Regime shifts can occur gradually and smoothly, or suddenly and jarringly (Kinzig, 2006). The latter often entails the sudden collapse and reorganisation of systems of high certainty, complexity and productivity, to systems of uncertainty, simplicity and low productivity. In natural systems, anthropogenic stressors can produce irreversible declines in ecosystem resilience which then have the potential to lock-in feedbacks that further degrade the state of the environment (Folke et al., 2004; Rapport & Whitford, 1999). In social systems, a sudden crash in commodity markets or violent political revolutions can displace communities, erode livelihoods and undermine the health and security of those affected. Conversely, some social revolutions sweep away oppressive and destructive regimes and a new and more stable and ‘healthy’ order takes its place. However, given the inherent uncertainty involved, dramatic regime shifts are considered undesirable and, if possible, are to be avoided (Berbes-Blazquez et al., 2014).

Table 3. Phases of the Adaptive Cycle and their Association to Socio-Ecological Resilience

Phases of the Adaptive Cycle and their Association with Socio-Ecological Resilience Phase Description Resilience

Exploitation (r) A period of rapid growth in which species, people and/or institutions exploit new opportunities. System conditions High are highly uncertain and connections between variables loosely defined, thereby favouring highly adaptable and short-lived entities (e.g. weeds, start-up companies).

Conservation Capital accumulates and connections between variables (K) increase, thereby favouring the emergence of specialists who manage their exposure and vulnerability to variability Low through their own mutually reinforcing relationships. Competition ensures non-adaptive entities are squeezed out. Entities control external variability by optimising resource use and seeking efficiencies. The system become increasingly rigid as diversity, flexibility and innovation is lost and connections between variables heighten.

Release (Ω) A disturbance event pushes the system beyond a critical tipping point, eliciting rapid system-wide change. Previous Low patterns of system order are undone as the system moves from a state of high certainty and predictability to a state of chaotic disorder. The system moves into a phase of ‘creative destruction’, giving the opportunity for new patterns of system order to formulate.

Reorganisation New patterns of order emerge, shaped by the surviving (α) remnants of the previous system. Novelty and surprise High dominate the evolutionary direction of the system. Eventually, new system dynamics emerge and a new system ‘identity’ develops, heralding the transition into a new system regime.

Sources: Allison & Hobbs (2004); Walker & Salt (2006), Holling & Gunderson (2002).

Regime shifts are most likely to occur when a system has entered the late stages of the conservation phase. This is a period characterised by high connectedness between variables, low potential for innovation, low flexibility and low system stability (Holling & Gunderson, 2002). It is at this point that an SES becomes an “accident waiting to happen” (Holling & Gunderson, 2002, p. 45). Evidence that a system has reached the late stages of the conservation phase can be ascertained by some key indicators which, according to Walker and Salt (2006) and Adger (2000), include:

• increases in efficiency being achieved at the expense of diversity and redundancies;

• the introduction of subsidies that attempt to sustain the continuation of the system, rather than facilitating change (perverse resilience);

• more sunk costs and diminishing law of returns;

• increased command and control (increasing rigidity);

• suppression of innovation and novelty;

• rising costs associated with ‘business as usual’;

• population decline and/or displacement;

• high dependency on a small number of resources;

• economic insecurity; and

• high concentrations of output and capital.

In addition to internal system dynamics, cross-scalar forces can also impact upon the resilience of an SES. According to Holling, Gunderson, and Peterson (2002b), complex adaptive systems are nested within ‘panarchies.’ A panarchy describes the interactions of complex adaptive systems across local to global scales. Due to its multi-scalarity, the notion of ‘panarchy’ provides a useful heuristic by which to analyse the effects of global environmental, economic and social systems on regional SESs.

Changes that occur within one level of the panarchy can drive changes at an adjacent scale (Holling, 2001; Holling et al., 2002b). One example of this process is when a level in the panarchy cycles from a late conservation phase to a release phase and experiences a collapse. If an adjoining level is also poised at the late stages of the conservation phase and is therefore highly exposed and vulnerable to risk, a collapse in one level of the panarchy may drive a collapse at another (Holling, 2001; Holling et al., 2002b). This is the risk associated with anthropogenic global warming: because it is a planetary-scale driver of change, global warming and its attendant impacts on regional climates have the potential to create, expose, or exacerbate vulnerabilities in SESs poised at moments of low resilience. Systems already highly exposed and vulnerable to environmental, economic or social risks can be driven into a new regime by climate instability. Indeed, this can happen with

devastating effect on vulnerable ecosystems (e.g. the Great Barrier Reef) and vulnerable people (e.g. the Syrian civil war).

The aforementioned scenario is also relevant to the discussion of the Wheatbelt SES. As will be demonstrated later in this chapter, the Wheatbelt SES is now firmly entrenched within a global warming panarchy. Forces operating within, and externally to, the Wheatbelt SES have pushed the system to the late stages of the conservation phases and, as a result, the fate of family farmers in the Wheatbelt has become tightly connected to local to global climate risks stemming from anthropogenic global warming. The movement of the Wheatbelt SES through the phases of the adaptive cycle and the forces that have pushed the SES to the late stages of the conservation phase will be addressed in detail in Section 5.3.

5.2.2 The normative dimensions of resilience Before detailing the drivers that have shaped the evolutionary trajectory of the Wheatbelt SES as well as family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to climate risk, it is important to note that resilience, in the social context, is a social construct and, as such, is reflective of the norms and values of the people who give it definition (Brown, 2014; Cote & Nightingale, 2012). Resilience, therefore, can be conceived in various ways. Indeed, an SES that is considered desirable by some may be considered undesirable by others (Walker & Salt, 2006) and maintaining the ‘resilience’ of a system may serve to benefit some at the expense of others. In any analysis of socio-ecological resilience, it is therefore prudent to address ‘the resilience of what and for whom’ (Cote & Nightingale, 2012, p. 475) to avoid ‘normalising’ resilience as a desirable outcome for all people and places.

For the sake of clarity, the term ‘resilience’ is used in this research to refer to the capacity of the Wheatbelt SES to support and maintain healthy farming landscapes, profitable family farming, and healthy family farmers. The assumption underlying this definition of resilience is that family farming and healthy farmland contribute to the development of a strong and positive endemic sense of place amongst family farmers, which then constitutes a vital part of their mental health and wellbeing. In turn, farmers’ endemic sense of place and positive mental health and wellbeing is considered to be important for the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES in two ways. First, as Berry et al. (2011b) demonstrate, farmers’ capacity to remain resilient in the face of adversity is, in part, contingent upon their positive mental health and wellbeing. If we consider the behaviour of individual family farmers, when aggregated at a geographical scale of analysis, to be an important driver of agricultural

SESs, then farmers’ mental health and wellbeing has direct bearing on the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES. Second, farmers’ ‘endemic sense of place’ is also considered here to be important for the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES. This is because particular adaptive responses that are in tune with the unique and specific features of place are considered here to be better able to promote the sustainable and ‘healthy’ operation of agricultural SESs than those adaptive responses informed by the globalising and homogenising forces of global capitalism. Therefore, in the context of this research, SES resilience, farmers' endemic sense of place, and their mental health and wellbeing are considered reciprocally related.

5.3 Identifying drivers and indicators of system resilience In most complex adaptive systems, order arises through the interaction of a limited number of variables (Folke, 2006). These same variables are also responsible for shaping the resilience/vulnerability of a SES as it drives the system through the stages of the adaptive cycle. Typically, the organisation of a regional resource system emerges from the interaction of three to six variables (Gunderson, Holling, Pritchard, & Peterson, 2002). A starting point for identifying the historical drivers that have shaped the evolution of the Wheatbelt SES is provided by Allison (2003) who examined drivers of environmental degradation in the Wheatbelt. 14 At the time of their publication, dryland salinity had been identified as a major ecological problem in the Wheatbelt, affecting an estimated one million hectares of agricultural land (Beresford et al., 2001). 15 Though climate change was not included in Allison’s analysis, her research nevertheless provides important insights into the drivers of change that have shaped the historical development of the Wheatbelt SES and family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to contemporary environmental, economic and social risks. Drivers identified by Allison (2003) included:

1. land use change;

2. number of agricultural establishments;

3. farmer age;

14 Also see Allison and Hobbs (2006) 15 Dryland salinity refers to the build-up of salts in the soil surface. Though dryland salinity occurs naturally throughout the Wheatbelt, the area affected by salinity expanded dramatically throughout the twentieth century due to extensive clearing activities which disrupted the hydrological balance of the landscape. Removal of deep-rooted native vegetation has allowed the water table to rise to the surface in some locations, bringing with it dissolved salts and minerals. Over time, as the water evaporates, the salts and minerals become concentrated on the surface, rendering areas unable to support agricultural production or the vast majority of the region’s native vegetation (Beresford et al., 2001).

4. farmer terms of trade; and

5. wheat yield.

Allison’s list of drivers has been modified to match the aims and goals of this research. First, ‘land use change’ has been replaced with ‘climate change.’ This is because changes in the regional climate of the Wheatbelt are argued here to be prominent drivers of instability in the Wheatbelt SES. ‘Climate change’ encompasses changes in rainfall, temperature and seasonal variability. Second, ‘agricultural policy’ has been identified as an additional driver in this study. It will be shown that Australian agricultural policy has had a marked impact on the evolutionary trajectory of the Wheatbelt SES as well as family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to climatic and economic risks. Third, in contrast to Allison (2003), the variables ‘number of agricultural establishments’ and ‘farmer age’ are repositioned in this analysis as social ‘indicators’ of system resilience rather than ‘drivers’ of system resilience. While declining farm numbers and the rising age of family farmers certainly have the potential to impact overall system resilience, these trends are argued here to be the result of other drivers operating within and upon the Wheatbelt SES. The drivers and indicators of socio-ecological resilience identified in this analysis are listed below and are described further in the ensuing sections.

System drivers:

1. climate change (rainfall, temperature, and seasonal variability);

2. agricultural policy;

3. farmer terms of trade;

4. wheat yield.

Social indicators of system resilience:

1. farmer age;

2. number of agricultural establishments.

5.3.1 Drivers

5.3.1.1 Climate change (rainfall, temperature and seasonal variability) With the introduction of soil trace elements in the 1950s, climate, rather than soil, became the primary limiting factor affecting agricultural production in the Wheatbelt (Passioura,

2002). Historically, the Wheatbelt was renowned for having the most consistent winter rainfall in Australia (IOCI, 2004). However, since the late 1960s, growing season rainfall in the south-west of Western Australia decreased over two step-wise periods. As shown on the next page in Figures 8a and 8b produced by the IOCI (2012), early winter rainfall (May to June) in the period 1969-1999 fell by 10-20 percent against the historical long-term mean (1910-1968). Early winter drying trends then intensified and geographically expanded in the period 2000 to 2008, falling a further 20-50 percent against the long term historical mean (Figure 8b). Inter and intra seasonal variability (rainfall, temperature, extreme weather events) also dramatically increased through the 2000s. These latter climatic changes and their impacts are discussed further in Section 5.4.4.

5.3.1.2 Agricultural policy Social and economic policies enacted by successive State and Federal Governments have historically shaped family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to environmental and economic risks. Up until the 1970s, the State played a significant role in the development of the Wheatbelt and its rural communities through the provision of cheap land, finance, settlement schemes, and a range of communication, transport, health and education infrastructures and services (see: Allison, 2003; Allison & Hobbs, 2006; Beresford et al., 2001; Burvill, 1979; Tonts & Jones, 1997). However, from the 1970s onwards, Australian agricultural policy shifted from what Tonts and Jones (1997) term ‘state paternalism’ to ‘neoliberalism’. This transition represented a paradigm shift in relations between farmers, the market and Australian society. Deregulation, efficiency and self-reliance would become the three pillars of Australian agricultural policy (Smith & Pritchard, 2015). As a result of this shift, tensions would mount between farmers and the State as agricultural productivity soared while rural communities declined (Alston, 2004; Lawrence, 1987). Furthermore, with the abrupt shift to a dryer and more variable climate in the 2000s, vulnerabilities latent within the structure of ‘neoliberal agriculture’ would become realised, thus exposing family farmers to a heightened degree of climatic and economic risk. Neoliberalism and its impact on the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES is explored from section 5.4.3 onwards.

5.3.1.3 Farm terms of trade The farm terms of trade index is a measure of the ratio between the prices farmers receive for their produce and the prices they pay for the inputs required to create that produce (Barr, 2014). The historical trend in farmers’ terms of trade is shown in Figure 9. Though a national aggregate, this data is taken to be representative of the Western Australian

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115E 120E 125E 130E

(b) 2000-2008

Figure 8. Percentage change in early winter rainfall (May to July) over two periods as compared with 1910-1968 mean: (a) 1969-1999; (b) 2000-2008. Average rainfall in the south-west Western Australian region is south-west of the diagonal line. Reprinted from Western Australia’s Weather and Climate: A Synthesis of Indian Ocean Climate Initiative Stage 3 Research, by B. Bates, C. Frederiksen, & J. Wormworth, 2012, Australia. CSIRO & BoM. Copyright 2012 Commonwealth of Australia. Reprinted with permission.

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context (Allison, 2003). The farm terms of trade index has fallen 70 percent since the 1950s (Barr, 2014). The pervasive decline in the farm terms of trade is typically attributed to the tendency of agricultural producers to increase supply faster than the growth in the market (Barr, 2014). In a contradictory sense, the same forces that have promoted productivity gains (such as increased global competition) have also driven downwards the prices for agricultural goods which, in turn, have further motivated farmers to increase their productivity (Barr, 2014; Lawrence, 1987). The decline in farmers’ terms of trade and the productivity gains it produces therefore constitute a perverse feedback loop of rising production and falling prices. As Barr writes: “from the point of view of a farmer, the solution is part of the problem” (2014, p. 11).

For farmers, the trend of decreasing prices and increasing costs represents a ‘cost-price squeeze.’ As the economic margins of agricultural production and profitability contract, so does the viability of smaller and more marginal farm enterprises. Unable to increase their productivity at a rate fast enough to counteract the declining terms of trade, many smaller, marginal and less efficient operators have been forced out of the industry (Barr, 2014; Barr, Karunaratne, & Wilkinson, 2005; Tonts & Black, 2002). The cost-price squeeze has eased somewhat over the last decade and productivity growth has slowed (Barr, 2014). However, it is likely that farm families will need to continue to improve their productivity, albeit the pressure to do so will be less so into the future (Barr, 2014).

600

500

400

300

200

100 Farm terms of trade index 0 1946/1947 1956/1957 1966/1967 1976/1977 1986/1987 1996/1997 2006/2007

Figure 9. Farm terms of trade index 1946-1947 to 2012-2013. Data sourced from ABARES.

5.3.1.4 Wheat yield Wheat is the primary commodity produced in the Wheatbelt and provides the main source of revenue for most farm establishments (Kingwell, 2011). Despite the drying climate, wheat yields improved substantially through the 1980s and 1990s (Figure 10).

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Improvements were driven by a raft of new agronomic, technological and mechanical developments (Turner, 2011). However, since 2000 wheat yield variance has increased substantially and, in some cases, wheat yield gains have stalled or reversed. As a result, farm productivity gains have also decreased over this period (Che, Kompas, Cook, Feldman, & Xayavong, 2012, February). Stalling wheat yield gains present a significant challenge to farmers contending with declining terms of trade (Kingwell & Pannell, 2005), a degrading resource base (Allison, 2003; Allison & Hobbs, 2006), and worsening climate change (Pettit et al., 2015). Due to the sensitivity of wheat yields to growing season conditions and their importance for generating farm income, wheat yield trends provide a clear indication of the extent to which climatic conditions have impacted agricultural production and farm revenue in the Wheatbelt.

2.5

1.5

0.5 Tonne per hectare (t/ha) 0 1949 1955 1958 1961 1967 1979 1985 1988 1991 1997 2009 1952 1964 1970 1973 1976 1982 1994 2000 2003 2006 2012 Figure 10. Western Australian wheat yield (tonnes per hectare), 1949 to 2013. Data 1949-2010 sourced from ABS (2012) Historical Selected Agricultural Commodities (1861 to Present). Data 2010-2013 sourced from Agricultural Commodity Statistics (ABS, 2012, 2013 & 2014).

5.3.2 Social indicators of system resilience

5.3.2.1 Farmer age The median age of farmers in the Wheatbelt and across the vast majority of Australia’s broadacre agricultural regions has increased over recent decades. According to findings from Barr (2014), the median age of farmers in the Wheatbelt in 1987, for most statistical regions, was 45 years or below. In contrast, by 2011 the median age of farmers had risen to between 50 and 60 years. Further analysis by Barr (2014) reveal farm amalgamation to be the primary driver of the rising median age of farmers across Australia. Farm amalgamation refers to the consolidation of farming enterprises into larger business units. Typically, this process is driven by the need to secure scale efficiencies in response to the pervasive decline in farmers’ terms of trade. Farm amalgamation inevitably leads to a breakdown in

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the intergenerational transfer of family farms and prevents new entrants entering the market. As a consequence, the percentage of young farmers falls, as does the total farming population. Farm amalgamation has been a pervasive trend in the Wheatbelt and is discussed further in Section 5.4.4.

5.3.2.2 Number of farm establishments Farm numbers in the Wheatbelt have experienced a threefold decline over the previous four decades. Between 1970 and 2013, the number of farms operating throughout the Wheatbelt fell from 13,106 to 4,941 (Figure 11a). It is unknown what percentage of historical and present day farm establishments are family owned in the Wheatbelt. However, considering 99 percent of Australian farms are family owned (Productivity Commission, 2005), it is likely that a vast majority of farms throughout the Wheatbelt are also family owned and operated.

The rate of farm loss has varied significantly over the previous four decades. As shown in Figure 11b, the highest rate of loss occurred in the 1970s, before halving in the 1980s and having again in the 1990s. However, the rate of farm loss then doubled in the 2000s, coinciding with the second stepwise shift in the regional climate. Farm establishment trends then recovered somewhat in the period 2010-2013. For reasons that will be explained in Chapter 8, however, the recent recovery in farm numbers is viewed as a temporary deviation against what is projected to be a continuing declining trend.

The declining number of farms in the Wheatbelt over the last four decades suggests that pervasive forces have undermined farmers’ capacity to retain their financial viability or their willingness to remain in the agricultural sector. The extent to which a changing climate is responsible for the pervasive decline in farm establishment numbers in the Wheatbelt, and the doubling of this trend in the 2000s, is considered in section 5.4.

5.4 Phases of the Wheatbelt socio-ecological system In addition to providing insight into the drivers underlying the evolution of the Wheatbelt SES, Allison (2003) also provides a detailed historical account of the Wheatbelt SES and its movement through the adaptive cycle. Despite analysing different system drivers, Allison’s analysis is relevant to this research for understanding how the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES has expanded and contracted through time. At the time of writing in 2003, Allison concluded that the Wheatbelt SES had moved through two iterations of the adaptive cycle:

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Cycle 1: 1889 to 1949

Cycle 2: 1949 to 2003

Extending upon Allison’s analysis, I argue that the second cycle persists up to the time of writing in 2014-15. Considering this thesis is primarily concerned with climate change and that the first observable shift in the regional climate did not occur until the 1970s, emphasis will be given to the second iteration of the adaptive cycle. Detail of the first adaptive cycle can be found in Allison (2003) and Allison and Hobbs (2006).

14000 12000 10000 8000 6000 4000

No. farm establishments 2000 0 1970 1975 1980 1985 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 (a)

100 38 50 0 -50 1970-79 1980-89 1990-99 2000-09 2010-13 -100 -150 -93.2 -200 Farm Loss -181.5 -250 -196.9 -300 -350 (avg loss per year per decade) -400 -352.3

(b)

Figure 11. The number of farm establishments operating in the Wheatbelt. (a) Trends in the number of farm establishments in the Wheatbelt 1970-2013. Gaps indicate lack of data. (b) Average rate of farm establishment loss per year 1970-2013. Data 1970-1989 sourced from respective Western Australia Year Books. Farm numbers derived from the total number of establishments operating in the ‘Lower Great Southern, Upper Great Southern and Midlands statistical divisions. Data 1990-2013 sourced from ABARES (AgSurf: http://apps.daff.gov.au/AGSURF/). Farm numbers derived from the total number of farming establishments operating in the ‘Central and South West Wheatbelt’ and ‘North and East Wheatbelt’ statistical regions.

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The following section describes three phases of the adaptive cycle: ‘release to conservation’ (1949-1969), ‘release’ (1970-1979), and ‘reorganisation to conservation’ (1980 to 2013). To facilitate a greater depth of discussion into system drivers and their impact on system resilience, I have disaggregated the conservation phase (K) into three components: ‘release to early K’ (1980-2000), ‘middle to late K’ (2000-2012), and ‘tipping point’ (2013-14). These phases and their relationship to socio-ecological resilience are shown in Table 4 below.

Table 4. Phases of the Wheatbelt Socio-Ecological System: 1949-2013-14

Phases of the Wheatbelt Socio-Ecological System: 1949 to 2013-2014 Period Title System phase Component Resilience phase

1949-1969 The rural boom r to K N/A High

1970-1979 The troubled decade and a Ω N/A Low changing climate

1980-2000 Neoliberal agriculture α to early K High

2000-2013 Neoliberal agriculture in an K middle to Low age of increased climate risk late K

2013-2014 A year of crisis tipping Very low point? Note: Titles for periods 1949-1969 and 1970-1979 were adapted from Burvill (1979) and Allison (2003).

In the following discussion, I draw upon multiple streams of evidence to demonstrate the expansion and contraction of socio-ecological resilience in the Wheatbelt SES as well as the evolution of family farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to climatic and economic risk. For the most part, historical data sets and secondary sources are used to support claims made in reference to the period 1949 to 2013. System drivers and indicators are referenced where applicable. Data sourced from contemporary news articles and interviews with key informants are used to support claims made in reference to the 2013-14 season.

5.4.1 The rural boom: 1949-1969 The twenty year period 1949-69 saw a period of agricultural development and prosperity not rivalled since. The area of native vegetation cleared for agricultural production doubled, sheep numbers trebled, as did wheat production (Burvill, 1979). In addition, the

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number of farms operating throughout the south-west region peaked at 23,00016 (Allison, 2003). Several factors gave potential to the rural boom. First, the ten years 1958 to 1968 saw consistent and favourable rainfall throughout the region, building confidence amongst farmers and planners alike that the drought years of 1930s and the early 1940s were not the rule, but rather the exception (Morgan, 2014). Second, wheat and wool demand soared in response to the Korean War, thereby driving up the price for agricultural commodities across international markets (Burvill, 1979). And third, scientific breakthroughs, technological advances and improved agronomic practices allowed for the profitable development of the region’s second and third class soils.

Primed with potential, the State Government introduced various policies that drove the rapid expansion of the Wheatbelt. For instance, the ‘Million Acres a Year’ program was part of an assortment of State policies designed to open up vast tracts of the south-west region to agricultural development. The scale of development was unsurpassed in Australia. Between 1959 and 1960 just over 6.5 million acres of Crown land was allocated for development in south-west WA, whereas only 2 million acres were allocated in all other states combined (Beresford et al., 2001). As a result, the area sown to wheat trebled between 1949 and 1969, as did overall wheat production (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2010). Also during this period, the War Service Settlement Scheme merged into the New Farm Lands Scheme, bringing another 5,000 leases covering some 3.5 million hectares into production (Beresford et al. 2001).

The State also invested heavily in rural communities during this period, providing schools, hospitals and police stations, together with comprehensive transport and communications infrastructures (Tonts & Jones, 1997). Relationships between farmers and the State in the Wheatbelt at this time were reflective of broader international trends which saw governments around the world take a leading role in ensuring the economic and social welfare of agriculture regions in the post-war period (Tonts & Jones, 1997). Rural communities and farmers in particular also enjoyed strong political representation (Lawrence, 1987) and held a privileged moral position within Australian society (Brett, 2007). As a consequence of these technological, economic and social factors, the rural population swelled as people from around the country came to the Wheatbelt on the promise of cheap land, reliable rainfall and a good life. For these reasons, the Wheatbelt

16 This number represents the total number of farm establishments operating across the south west land division and not necessarily the Wheatbelt statistical division.

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became quickly known as a veritable ‘Holy Land’ for agriculture (Oliver, 1983, 44 as cited in Beresford et al., 2001).

5.4.1.1 System summary: r to K The ‘rural boom’ was driven by a combination of reinforcing drivers operating across global to local scales. Favourable regional climatic conditions, coupled with high world prices for agricultural commodities, technological innovation, and the adoption of a ‘paternalistic’ worldview by the current-day State Government acted to reinforce and amplify the positive effect of each individual driver, thereby propelling the Wheatbelt SES through a period of rapid agricultural expansion and into a new conservation phase. However, periods of exploitation and conservation, no matter how strong or enduring they may be, always produce latent vulnerabilities that become exposed when confronted with unexpected shocks and disturbances (Adger, 2006). As discussed in the next section, the in-built vulnerabilities of the ‘rural boom’ became exposed by a confluence of environmental, economic and social shocks which together defined the ‘troubled decade’ of the 1970s.

5.4.2 The troubled decade and a changing climate: 1970-1979 The turn of the decade brought various challenges to the Wheatbelt. The ‘great rural expansion’ of the previous two decades came to a sudden halt when in 1968 it became apparent that domestic and international wheat markets were supplied beyond demand (Burvill, 1979). In an attempt to prevent further declines in the price of wheat, in 1969 delivery quotas were introduced across Australia. As a result of the quota system, wheat production in the Wheatbelt fell by a third by 1971 (Burvill, 1979). Limits on wheat production, coupled with falling prices, had an especially detrimental impact on the financial viability of farmers in the Wheatbelt, particularly as wheat was the primary crop grown on newly established farm land (Burvill, 1979).

Compounding farmers’ problems were other economic and environmental challenges. Between 1970 and 1972 the price of wool tumbled and, on the other side of the equation, global inflationary pressures drove the cost of labour, fuel, freight and fertiliser upwards (Burvill, 1979). In response, the farm terms of trade index almost halved from 234 in 1974 to 133 in 1978 (Figure 9). Drought conditions returned to the Wheatbelt in the 1970s, with most areas declared drought-affected in 1969 and again in the period 1976 to 1979 (Burvill, 1979). So severe was the drought of 1969 that it threw into question farmers’ preconceived notions regarding the consistency and reliability of the region’s climate (Morgan, 2014). Citing a news article that appeared at the time, Morgan writes:

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Across the southwest, farmers generally believed that “things like that [1969 drought] should not happen here.” […] Farmers’ expectations of the region’s climate and their sense of “normal” or “abnormal” weather conditions reflected, therefore, the strong influence of individual and collective experiences and memories (p. 163).

Operating under a false belief in the reliability of the region’s rainfall, many farmers failed to increase their fodder and water supplies despite increasing their stock levels through the 1950s and 1960s (Morgan, 2014). Many also did not take advantage of Public Works Department and Department of Agriculture initiatives to improve the physical resilience of their farming enterprises in times of severe drought (Morgan, 2014). Therefore, in a sense, climatic conditions that inspired confidence during the years of rural boom also shaped farmers’ exposure and vulnerability to climate risk during the drought years of the 1970s.

In the confluence of worsening economic and climatic conditions, the wisdom of expanding agricultural production into land known as ‘marginal’ was questioned. Both local geographer, Joseph Gentilli, and Bureau of Meteorology researcher, Michael Coughlan, intimated that large swathes of newly developed land would be rendered unviable if previous patterns of rainfall did not return (Morgan, 2014). What could not have been known at the time was that the regional climate was indeed drying. As discussed previously, the 1970s saw the beginnings of a step-wise shift in the climate of south-west Western Australia (Figure 8). Observations of climate change in this part of Australia were among many others which contributed to a growing level of international concern regarding the possibility of anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change. In 1979, the World Climate Conference of the World Meteorological Organisation remarked:

[…] it appears plausible than an increased amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere can contribute to a gradual warming of the lower atmosphere, especially at higher latitudes […] It is possible that some effects on a regional and global scale may be detectable before the end of this century and become significant before the middle of the next century (World Meteorological Organisation, 1979, p. 2).

The extent to which anthropogenic climate change can be implicated as a key driver of the ‘troubled decade’ is uncertain. As is the case in complex adaptive systems, it is the confluence of various drivers and the emergent properties of their interaction that ultimately drive the expansion and contraction of resilience in a given SES. Although not the sole cause of the ‘troubled decade’, human-enhanced drought, in combination with the

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sudden reduction in farmers’ terms of trade and other environmental problems such as dryland salinity and soil erosion, exposed vulnerabilities in the family farmer model of economic enterprise in the Wheatbelt during this period.

A 1975 Commonwealth Government Inquiry into the War Service and New Farm Schemes concluded that the release of farmland in the south-eastern Wheatbelt was ill conceived and poorly managed (Morgan, 2014). The inquiry found that little attention had been given to applicants’ prospects for success (many applicants had no prior farming experience) and that the State Government knowingly released land unproven for agricultural cultivation (Morgan, 2014; Beresford, et al., 2001). Furthermore, the inquiry also found that little provision was made for the financial needs of settlers on marginal lands. As a result, many farmers were unable to cope with the climatic and economic stresses imposed upon them and were subsequently forced out of the industry. The number of farm establishments dropped from 13,106 in 1970 to 9,439 by the end of the decade (Figure 11a), bringing with it the collapse of the rural boom.

5.4.2.1 System summary: Ω The troubled decade of the 1970s saw the Wheatbelt SES move from the conservation to the release phase of the adaptive cycle. Under the strain of global market pressures, declining rainfall and reactionary agricultural policies, vulnerabilities that had remained latent in the Wheatbelt SES during the rural boom were exposed and exacerbated, pushing the system from a period of steady growth into a period of instability and, eventually, collapse. Though production potential remained strong and relatively high wheat yields were achieved in some years (Figure 10), the social structure of the Wheatbelt was dramatically altered, as evidenced by the rapid decline of the number of farms operating in the Wheatbelt at that time (Figure 11b).

It is a property of complex adaptive systems that when one level in a panarchy undergoes a collapse, processes operating at a higher level have the potential to shape the manner in which the collapsed system will reorganise (Holling et al., 2002b). As demonstrated in the next section, the international emergence of neoliberalism in the 1970s and 1980s had a significant impact on the reorganisation of the Wheatbelt SES. The reorganisation of Australian agriculture along neoliberal lines would inadvertently produce a new set of latent vulnerabilities that would later become reified with the abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate in the 2000s.

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5.4.3 Neoliberal agriculture: 1980-2000 In the 1960s, a new economic theory was being developed that would reshape relationships between people, place and society on a global scale. The Chicago School of Economics, then headed by Milton Friedman, would advocate a new political-economic paradigm based on the belief that ‘free markets’ unfettered from the distorting influence of government intervention would best serve the efficient distribution of global capital for the betterment of human prosperity and wellbeing (Harvey, 2005; Klein, 2007). Privatisation, deregulation, and the removal of ‘market distorting’ State protections would form the basis of a new era of economic and political thinking that would eventually fall under the rubric of ‘neoliberalism’17 (Harvey, 2005, 2007). In Australia, neoliberalism provided the ‘intellectual wellspring’ from which a new era of domestic agricultural policy would emerge (Lawrence, 1987; Pritchard, 2005a, 2005b; Smith & Pritchard, 2015).

From the late 1970s onwards, relationships between Australian farmers, the State and global commodity markets were renegotiated through the lens of neoliberalism. Deregulation of the agricultural sector was pursued as a key policy agenda throughout the 1980s and 1990s, supported all the while by the newly established National Farmers Federation (Lawrence, 1987; Smith & Pritchard, 2015). Statutory marketing boards were also dismantled, as were collective agricultural bargaining agreements during this period (Pritchard, 2005a; Smith & Pritchard, 2015). While Australia pursued an aggressive neoliberal agro-economic agenda, other key producers such at the EU and the US retained their trade protections. This would prove detrimental to Australian farmers exposed to the vagaries of increasingly globalised, yet uneven, commodity markets (Dibden, Potter, & Cocklin, 2009; Lawrence, 1987).

The political uptake of neoliberal ideals also led to the reorientation of farmers’ position within Australian society. Up until the rural boom of the 1950s and 1960s, agriculture played a central role in Australia’s economic prosperity and cultural identity (Brett, 2007). However, as the neoliberal project came to pervade all aspects of Australian political, economic and social thinking, the notion that farmers were somehow a “distinctive social and political category warranting special support from the State” became replaced by a more “hard-edged” notion of farmers as “business people whose fate rested on their ability to survive within the market economy” (Smith & Pritchard, 2015, p. 60). In the emerging era of ‘neoliberal agriculture’, farmers could no longer could rely upon the State to provide

17 Neoliberalism is known as ‘economic rationalism’ in Australia (Nevile, 1997).

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them special concessions if they were to encounter environmental and/or economic adversity (Alston, 2004; Pritchard, 2005a, 2005b; Smith & Pritchard, 2015). This would have significant implications for Australia’s drought policy.

The 1980s saw a continuation of the dry conditions encountered in the 1970s, particularly in the north-eastern Wheatbelt and along the south coast (Morgan, 2014). Although the State Government undertook provisions to connect farmers in the northeast to existing regional water infrastructure (because there were no other options to prevent the industry from experiencing significant decline), only limited support was offered to drought-affected farmers in other parts of the Wheatbelt (Morgan, 2014). By the end of the decade, Australia’s national drought policy had moved away from direct State intervention towards the promotion of “self-reliance and risk management” (Morgan, 2014, p. 170). The shift in Australia’s drought policy also reflected the new ‘hard-edged’ conception of farmers in the neoliberal era. Suddenly, drought-affected farmers were no longer “heroic victims of fickle nature” but rather “merely bad risk managers” (Brett, 2011, pp. 49-50). In this new paradigm, individual farmers would shoulder the blame for their failures, not the socio- political system that had promoted the expansion of agriculture into marginal land.

In the push to become more self-reliant in the face of environmental shocks and more competitive in an increasingly globalised market place, farmers were encouraged to improve their productivity and efficiency (Smith & Pritchard, 2015). Farmers’ capacity to improve their productivity was aided by the development of a new range of technologies and agronomic packages which included minimum tillage, summer spraying, pre-emergent herbicides, ‘dwarf’ cultivars, the introduction of canola into crop rotations, and the more efficient and effective application of fertilisers (Turner, 2011). As a result, from the early 1980s through to the 2000, water use efficiency doubled (Turner, 2011), broadacre farm productivity increased by 3.5 percent per annum (Kingwell & Pannell, 2005), and average wheat yields rose from 1t/ha to almost 2t/ha (see Figure 10).

In addition to adopting new technologies and more productive management practices, Australian farmers were also encouraged to ‘get big or get out.’ This was part of an international movement to encourage the growth of industrial agriculture through various mechanisms to reward scale efficiencies (Reynolds et al., 2014). With a limited amount of new land to expand into, many farmers in the Wheatbelt expanded their operations by buying smaller and less competitive farm businesses. Although efficiency and total productivity soared as a result of ‘farm amalgamation’, this process also drove further farm

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losses throughout the Wheatbelt. Between 1980 and 2000, the number of farms operating in the Wheatbelt fell from 9439 to 6879 (Figure 11a). In addition, as farm sizes grew and capital requirements increased, the structural requirements of this new era of ‘efficient farming’ started to prevent new farmers from entering into the industry. As reported by Barr (2014), the mean age for farmers in the Wheatbelt increased from 48 to 52 years between 1990 and 2000.

It is interesting to note, however, that in this period of neoliberal agriculture the rate of farm loss halved in the 1980s and then halved again in the 1990s in comparison to the rate of farm loss experienced in the 1970s (Figure 11b). Whilst stabilising farm numbers could be read as indicative of the improved capacity of family farmers to navigate the risks presented by neoliberal agriculture (and the stabilisation of the Wheatbelt SES more generally), at a national level, despite increased production and productivity, the 1980s and 1990s were periods of considerable ‘belt tightening’ for many farming families. Not only did rural poverty increase (Gray, Lawrence, & Dunn, 1993), a study by Garnaut et al. (1997, as cited in Alston, 2004) also revealed that many farm families reduced their expenditure on basic food items during this period. As the pervasive cost-price squeeze continued, falling from 162 in 1980 to 92 in 2000 (Figure, 9), farm families resorted to off-farm employment to support their failing farm businesses. However, as demand for off-farm work grew, State supports for rural communities were cut in the name of ‘rational’ economic reform. As a consequence, employment opportunities in rural areas diminished, exacerbating rural poverty and farm loss (Alston, 2004). The roll-back of State supports also saw access to healthcare, education and welfare services diminish across Australia’s rural areas, further entrenching rural disadvantage (Alston, 2004; Lawrence, 1987; Tonts & Jones, 1997).

In response to increasing socio-economic disadvantage in Australia’s rural areas, social scientists became increasingly critical of ‘neoliberal agriculture’ and criticised its perceived exploitative and destructive impacts on family farmers, rural communities and farming landscapes (Alston, 2004; Fraser et al., 2005a; Gray & Lawrence, 2001; Pritchard & McManus, 2000; Vanclay, 2003). The argument against neoliberal agriculture is perhaps best exemplified by Alston (2004) who wrote:

[the] narrow focus on economic efficiency has led to a lack of attention to the human, institutional, and social capital needs of rural Australians engaged in agriculture and those rural communities dependent on agriculture. As a consequence, the interests of a reified “efficient agriculture” are being served by exploitation of the people

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and resources engaged in the industry. If this continues […] family farming as the dominant form of social relations in agricultural production and the rural communities dependent on agriculture face an uncertain future (p. 37).

5.4.3.1 System summary: α to early K By the end of the 1990s it was clear that Australian agriculture had embarked on a significantly different evolutionary trajectory than was the case before the ‘troubled decade’ of the 1970s. The era of ‘state paternalism’ had given way to a new era of ‘neoliberalism’ and, as a result, a new ‘hard-edged’ conception of farming had emerged emphasising the instrumental value of people and places. Deregulation, efficiency and self- reliance had eroded farmers’ privileged position within Australian society and exposed farmers to environmental and economic risks once shouldered primarily by the State. While the new era of ‘efficient’ and ‘rational’ agriculture saw production and efficiency dramatically improve, it came at the expense of a significant percentage of family farmers who were forced out of the industry by contracting environmental and economic thresholds to production. For those farmers who remained, pressures to become ever more efficient and self-reliant in the face of mounting climatic and economic risks, coupled with declining investments in rural communities, saw many become entrenched in socio- economic disadvantage. While the decline in the rate of farm establishment loss would indicate that farmers had become increasingly resilient in the era of neoliberal agriculture, closer examination of the social trends of the time reveals that farm business resilience may have been achieved at the expense of farmers’ standard of living and overall health and wellbeing. This situation would be further exacerbated by an abrupt shift in the regional climate in the 2000s.

5.4.4 Neoliberal agriculture in an age of increased climate risk: 2000-2013 With the arrival of the new millennium came a second stepwise shift in the regional climate, bringing with it a new era of climate risk for farmers across the Wheatbelt. As shown earlier in Figure 8, early winter rainfall suddenly fell between 20 to 50 percent against the historical average 1910 to 1968. The early winter drying trend was also accompanied by various other climatic changes that would prove inimical to agricultural production in the Wheatbelt. Some of these climatic changes included:

• an increased prevalence of sowing season ‘false starts’;

• later and weaker opening breaks to the season;

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• reductions in follow-up rains, particularly in the May to July period;

• heightened frost risk during the flowering window;

• hot, dry conditions during the grain-fill period;

• and, in some regions, an increased frequency of storm events during harvest.

Commentary provided by a long-term Newdegate community member provides insight into the degree of climatic variability encountered by Wheatbelt farmers throughout this period (see Table 5). The commentary provides a striking description of the multiple forms of climate adversity encountered by farmers both within and across seasons. For instance, 2005 included a particularly dry summer, a good start to the season, a very dry July, and significant frost damage. This was followed in 2006 by an early season flood, a false start to the season, a late opening break, a grasshopper plague and then drought. Further analysis conducted by the community member also revealed that in 86 years of rainfall records taken by the Newdegate Post Office, the period 2000 to 2012 included the three driest growing seasons on record (2000, 2010 and 2012).

Wheat yield trends provide insight into the effects of climatic variability and growing season dryness on agricultural production and profitability during this time. As shown previously in Figure 10, regional wheat yields increased in a relatively linear fashion in the 1980s and 1990s, before becoming highly variable in the 2000s. Analysis by Stephens et al. (2011) revealed that wheat yield variance more than doubled in the 2000s as compared with the 1990s, and that in some areas wheat yield variance increased by over 120 percent.18 Furthermore, the rate of wheat yield gains fell significantly from a height of 3.2 percent per annum in the 1980s and 1990s (the highest in Australia) to only 0.9 percent per annum between 1991 and 2010 (Stephens et al., 2011).

The impact of increased wheat yield variance on the financial security of family farmers was exacerbated by the structure of crop-dominant farm systems. After the price for wool crashed in the mid-1990s, many farmers switched to crop-dominant farm systems in the 2000s (Kingwell, 2002). In the switch to a crop-dominant system, wheat constituted an even greater percentage of farmers’ revenue. As a result, farm revenue became tightly coupled with wheat yield, meaning that as yield variance increased so did farm revenue

18 A recent study found climatic variability explained over 60 percent of the annual variance in wheat yield in the Western Australian Wheatbelt, one of the highest rates in the world (Ray, Gerber, MacDonald, & West, 2015).

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volatility (Kingwell, 2011). The shift to an increasingly crop-dominant farm system also meant that broadacre farm enterprises became more capital intensive and reliant on high- cost inputs (e.g. fertiliser, herbicides, fungicides, pesticides). Due to their high cost/high input structures, crop-dominant enterprises are not well positioned to recover quickly from poor production years, usually taking several years to regain full farm equity (Lawes & Kingwell, 2012). As a consequence, a few poor seasons have the potential to rapidly cripple a farm business, particularly if poor production years are coupled with poor prices (Kingwell, 2002).

Unfortunately for farmers struggling with poor production years, the 2000s were also characterised by high volatility in the price for agricultural commodities. Kingwell et al. (2013) report very large changes in the price of grain both within and across years during this period. For instance, 2008 saw the cash price for wheat peak at $430 per tonne in March, only to fall to $285 per tonne by the end of the year: a one third drop. Alternatively, in 2012, the cash price for wheat rose 42 percent over a six month period from $250 per tonne in May to a peak of $355 per tonne by November. Variance in the cash price of grains is driven by global supply and demand forces which are increasingly destabilised by global warming and attendant regional climate change. For instance, extreme drought conditions in the US in 2012 severely reduced global supplies of agricultural commodities which, in turn, drove up the cash price of wheat (Nierenberg & Spoden, 2013). While this was a positive outcome for WA farmers contending with the 2012 drought, this also meant that farmers had become increasingly connected to global climate shocks through world agro-commodity markets. Therefore, through the 2000s, Wheatbelt farmers had not only become exposed to regional climate risks manifesting as increased wheat yield variance, but also to global climate risks manifest in global price fluctuations.

Compounding farmers’ exposure to these risks was the continued push towards neoliberal agriculture and its three pillars of deregulation, self-reliance and efficiency. After the deregulation of the Australian Wheat Board in 2008, the Australian agricultural sector had become the second least government-supported in the world (OECD, 2013).19 Australia would also go on to become a leading international proponent for agricultural trade liberalisation (Dibden et al., 2009). It is perhaps no surprise that Australia would adopt such a vociferous stance on this issue, as it is the assumption of neoliberal policy that the

19 New Zealand remains the least government-protected agriculture sector at time of writing (OECD, 2013).

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Table 5. Commentary on Newdegate Seasonal Weather Conditions (2000-2012)

A Family Farmer’s Commentary on Seasonal Weather Conditions in Newdegate (2000-2012) Year Commentary

2000 Slow start, no finishing rain. Rain came during harvest. Low returns and much downgraded grain.

2001 Started with the worst drought ever. Rained in July. The rain kept coming with good result, but a lot of grain downgraded.

2002 Drought: 76 millimetres to the end of June. Full blown drought by September. Recorded the worst rainfall since 1926: not the worst growing season rainfall by a fraction. The lack of moisture in the ground before the growing season commenced obviously had a marked effect on the overall season as crops did not get away. Unfortunately those that did had frost. Farm averages dropped to 0.7 to 0.8 t/ha, a figure we thought we would never see again. Strong destructive winds recorded here: 106 kilometres per hour. Paddocks lifting, water and feed shortage. Australia-wide drought. Also, stripe, rust, powdery mildew on wheat and frost. Grain, sheep and wool prices high. Huge numbers of sheep sold.

2003 Nice rain in March and then a dry spell. Concern was eased by a decent rain in May. Good rains continued. Great finish, excellent year. Quality and quantity records in many areas. Record yields on Group Wheat (3.94 t/ha) and Barley (4.92 t/ha). Some rust leaf, stem, stripe.

2004 Season started well. No finishing rain and frost. High cost year; low prices for all grains. Sheep and wool prices low. Cattle prices ok.

2005 Dry January. Good rains giving an excellent start to the season then dry July spoiling a fantastic year. Frost affected most farmers. Disease-free. Low prices for all grain except oats. Terrible hail in Lake Grace: some 100 percent damage.

2006 Early flood, particularly Lake Grace. False start and late rain for seeding. Grasshopper plague. Drought. Australian Wheat Board Iraq dramas with not paying for wheat.

2007 Good start, poor finish. Some had a little extra rain to finish. Mostly a dud year.

2008- *missing commentary 2009 2010 Good start to season, then driest growing season recorded. Some crops died off. Bastard of a year.

2011 Great start to season. Late rains caused a lot of wheat to go to feed. Good price for feed.

2012 Started with great promised. Bastard of a middle season. Drought topped off with frost. Growing season rainfall 15 millimetres more rain than worst season since 1926. Source: reproduced with permission from Helen MacDonald

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economic benefits of trade liberalisation can only come to fruition if the ‘market distorting’ protections put in place by other major producers (e.g. the US and the EU) are removed (Smith & Pritchard, 2015).Despite pressure to the contrary, the US and the EU retained their agricultural protections throughout this period to the disadvantage of Australian producers.

Australian farmers were also urged to become even more self-reliant in the face of climate- enhanced droughts during this period. The Exceptional Circumstances scheme (EC), which provided subsidies to the interest payable on commercial borrowings and family support packages to drought-stricken farmers, was abolished in 2012 as a result of mounting costs associated with the Millennium Drought (Botterill, 2014, February 5). In its place, a drought pilot scheme designed to move Australia’s drought policy from “a crisis management approach to risk management” was trialled in Western Australia in 2011-12 (Department of Agriculture and Food Western Australia, n.d.). The pilot included a range of programs designed to further enhance farmers’ production and financial management skills, with allocations also made to fund the development of better coordinated social supports and ‘stronger rural communities’ (Rural Business Development Unit, 2014). Though viewed favourably by farmers and industry groups, such as the National Farmers Federation (Crombe, 2010, May 6), the Drought Pilot made it clear that farmers, not the State, would be responsible for shouldering a majority of the risks imposed by a changing climate.

Confronted with mounting climatic, production and price risks, as well as a need to become increasingly self-reliant in the face of climatic adversity, farmers undertook further productivity-enhancing measures in the attempt to retain their viability. Studies by Lawes and Kingwell (2012) and Kingwell et al. (2013) reveal that many farmers made efforts to improve their technical and scale efficiencies during the 2000s. However, both strategies proved problematic. With regard to technical efficiencies, many farmers improved their productivity by investing in existing technologies rather than investing in new technologies that may have expanded their production horizons (Lawes & Kingwell, 2012; Kingwell et al., 2013). While beneficial in the short term, in the medium to long-term further advances in farm machinery, management, and agronomy are likely to be required to overcome contracting environmental and economic thresholds to production (Allison, 2003).

With regard to scale efficiencies, the trend towards farm amalgamation that commenced in the 1970s and 1980s continued in the 2000s. As demonstrated in Figure12 below, the average size of Wheatbelt farms continued to grow throughout the 1990s and 2000s, both

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in the central-south and north-east Wheatbelt regions. By 2011, the average size of farms in the Wheatbelt with grain as part of their overall enterprise mix were twice the size of comparable farms in South Australia and New South Wales, and four time as large as comparable farms in Victoria and Queensland (Land Commodities, n.d.).

8000

7000

6000

5000 north and east

4000 central and south

3000 Linear (north and east) Avg farm size (ha) 2000 Linear (central and south) 1000

0 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010

Figure 12. Farm size trend in the Wheatbelt: 1990-2013. Data sourced from: ABARES

During this period many farmers were forced to take on debt in order to expand their operations. By 2013, Western Australian Liberal backbencher Nigel Hallett stated that average debt per farm enterprise in the Wheatbelt had reached $2.5 million (Thompson, 2013, August 9). While in many parts of Australia farmers borrowed to keep afloat during the Millennium drought, in the broadacre sector almost half of total borrowings went towards land purchases and about one third to working capital (Keogh, Tomlinson, & Potard, 2013). Much of this was driven by very good farm returns in the early 2000s and low interest rates which encouraged farmers to borrow to expand their operations and to convert to a crop-dominant farm system (Keogh et al. 2013). However, poor seasonal conditions throughout the 2000s constrained farmers’ ability to service their debts. As a result, from 2000 to 2012, the average farm debt-to-income ratio in the Wheatbelt increased from 1.0 to 1.68 and average farm equity dropped from 85 percent in 1998 to approximately 72.520 percent in 2013 (Planfarm & Bankwest, 2013). In light of these results,

20 Average equity increases to 76.6 percent if liquid assets are included (Planfarm & Bankwest, 2013).

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it is perhaps not surprising that a study of broadacre farms in the Wheatbelt revealed 15 percent were in a ‘less secure’ financial position by 2013 (Kingwell et al., 2013).21

As a result of mounting structural vulnerabilities in the Wheatbelt SES, there was a dramatic decline in farm numbers through the 2000s. Between 2000 and 2013, the number of farms operating in the Wheatbelt fell from 6879 to 4941 (Figure 11a). In addition, the average rate of farm loss doubled from 93.2 per year in the 1990s to 196.9 per year in the 2000s (Figure 11b). The median age of farmers also rose from 45 years and below in 1987 to between 50 and 60 years by 2011 (Barr, 2014), suggesting the rate of intergenerational transfer within farming families had also declined in this period.

5.4.4.1 System summary: middle to late K The environmental, economic and social trends that occurred throughout the 2000s are indicative of a breakdown of socio-ecological resilience. The Wheatbelt SES had become ‘doubly exposed’ (O’Brien & Leichenko, 2000) to sources of climatic and economic variability operating at global to local scales and, as a result, family farmers had also become increasingly exposed and vulnerable to their associated risks. Although the Wheatbelt SES had endured higher rates of farm loss in the 1970s and a comparable rate of farm loss in the 1980s, the cause of these losses were largely rooted in transformational changes that had occurred in the structure of Australian agriculture as a result of the shift towards the neoliberal socio-political paradigm. However, in the 2000s, structural vulnerabilities within neoliberal agriculture became apparent with the abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate. The push towards ‘efficient’ agriculture had eliminated sources of diversity as farmers reorientated their enterprises towards larger, more capital intensive and increasingly crop-dominant farming systems. In addition, the policy push towards ‘deregulation’ and ‘self-reliance’ also increased farmers’ exposure to production and market risks stemming from a heightened level of climatic variability and market volatility. As a result of these risks, farmers’ financial security was eroded and the farming population fell, both of which are key indicators of a loss of social resilience (Adger, 2000).

21 Commenting on the data set used to derive this figure, Islam et al. (2013) noted that “since the data come from farms sufficiently viable to afford agricultural consultants, they may not necessarily be truly representative of the wider farming community in each zone. The data may be upwardly biased if only above average farmers use consulting firms” (p. 7). In other words, due to sampling constraints, the 15 percent figure may have underrepresented the number of Wheatbelt farms in a ‘less secure’ position by 2013.

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By the beginning of the second decade of the 2000s, there were various indicators that would suggest the Wheatbelt SES had entered the late stage of the conservation phase of the adaptive cycle. Some of these include:

• efficiency gains stalled despite rising ‘sunk costs’ associated with the transition to large crop-dominant farm systems;

• farmers’ exposure to price and production risks rose as a result of structural changes in individual farm businesses, the deregulation of the agricultural sector, and the policy push towards ‘self-reliance’;

• despite an ‘impressive’ raft of technological advances that aided wheat production, revenue variability still significantly increased (Kingwell, 2011);

• business recovery slowed and indebtedness grew as farm businesses became geared towards specialist crop production;

• farm business health became contingent upon ephemeral sources of apparent ‘stability’ (interest rates, land values, commodity prices, input costs);

• farm capital and output became increasingly concentrated in fewer larger farm enterprises;

• economic insecurity grew as operating conditions became more variable and risky; and

• the rate of farm loss doubled, indicating that the combination of stressors encountered in the 2000s severely undermined the capacity of farmers to retain the viability of their farm businesses.

As discussed previously in this chapter, systems that have entered the late stages of the conservation phase are less resilient to shocks and disturbances and are therefore more prone to encounter critical ‘tipping points’ and ‘regime shifts.’ It is argued here that the Wheatbelt SES was poised at such a point before entering the 2013-14 season: it had become unstable and, as a result, exposed and vulnerable to risk. In the words of Holling and Gunderson (2002), the Wheatbelt SES had become an “accident waiting to happen”. A crisis point was taking shape.

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5.4.5 A year of crisis: the 2013-2014 season By the end of 2012 it was evident that Wheatbelt farmers faced mounting problems. Drought, coupled with frost and unseasonal rainfall during harvest, had resulted in another below average production year (Grain Industry Association of Western Australia, 2013a). While high prices for grain, driven by a severe drought in the US, helped to offset the financial losses associated with the poor production year, it did little to reverse the deteriorating financial position of the Wheatbelt broadacre sector. Towards the end of 2012, industry analysts reported sectorial debt was 30 percent above safe operating limits and that farmers were likely to experience difficulties securing finance for the upcoming 2013-14 season as lending institutions made movements to insulate themselves from mounting risks (Cattle, 2012, December, 7).

Fears of a difficult year ahead arose early in 2013 as Australia sweltered through its hottest summer on record. Termed the ‘angry summer’ by the then Australian Climate Commission, maximum and monthly average temperature records were broken across the country (Steffen, 2013). In the Wheatbelt, the record-breaking heatwave was punctuated by extreme storm events that caused significant damage to homes and infrastructure in the central Wheatbelt towns of Corrigin and Karlgarin (Orr, 2013, January 3, 2013, January 16). Subsequent storms also produced large dust storm events in Lake Grace and Newdegate.22

As the hot weather continued, reports emerged of farmers walking off their land throughout the central and eastern Wheatbelt, with hundreds of other properties up for sale but unable to sell. In early March 2013, an article in The Australian reported:

Four years of extreme drought, frost and unseasonal rain variability, plus the high dollar and world grain price volatility, have created havoc in the sprawling eastern rim of WA's rich grain belt, which in a good year can grow half of Australia's wheat crop. Land prices have crashed, farms sit unsold and banks are applying pressure to growers close to financial collapse (Neales, 2013, March 5).

There was concern that a significant proportion of the Wheatbelt farming community would be in a dire financial situation by the end of the 2013-14 season if climatic and economic pressures continued. The State Government estimated that 10 percent of Wheatbelt farmers would be unable to secure ongoing finance from their lending institutions for the 2013-14 season (King, 2013, March 9). In the north-eastern Wheatbelt

22 The impacts of wind erosion and dust storms on the mental health and wellbeing of family farmers are discussed further in Chapter 7.

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town of Muntadgin, local grower group representative Jeff Hooper told reporters that the 2013-14 season was the “last roll of the dice for 50 percent of the guys I know” (Neales, 2013, March 5). WA Farmers president Dale Park stated the agricultural sector was ‘brushing close’ to Great Depression conditions (Tallier, 2013, March 12) and later reported that at least 15 percent of farm businesses were ‘on the brink’ (Dowler, 2013, April 16). Mr Park also reported that he feared that for the first time in eighty years large swathes of farming land once considered ‘safe’ and ‘reliable’ for agricultural production would sit idle, neither sown to crop nor pasture (Neales, 2013, March 5). In Newdegate, some local farmers indicated that the future viability of the region may be threatened if adverse seasonal conditions continued into the near future:

I think it would be close to being an unviable farming area if it carries on the way it has been. People are just surviving on a bit of stored funds and stuff like that and just treading water. But if it doesn’t … if things don’t come good, it’s going to be looking like it might be an area that is just not viable (WY, R1).

Concern was also mounting in the state’s Department of Agriculture and Food. The then Minister for Agriculture, Terry Redman, took the ‘unusual’ step of writing to Premier Colin Barnett, as well as his ministerial colleagues, outlining the various risks facing farmers and many rural communities ahead of the state election (Neales 2013, March 5). Various meetings were also held between government representatives and lending institutions at the time to assess what could be done to address these problems (Neales, 2013, March 5).

In response to growing community concerns, multiple agricultural crisis meetings were held in the first half of 2013, attracting record-breaking attendance from farmers and rural community members. Meetings at Kulin, Merredin and Muntadgin gave farmers an opportunity to voice their concerns about the future viability of their industry to government representatives, lending institutions and grower groups. Having attended the Kulin and Merredin meetings, this researcher can state that there was very little discussion of climate change or its role in shaping the emerging crisis. Instead, the economics of farming in the Wheatbelt came under intense scrutiny as soaring debt levels and the persistent cost-price squeeze remained front and centre in people’s minds.

The meetings revealed clear tensions between farmers and the State with regard to what both groups saw as appropriate governmental responses to the unfolding crisis. Farmers, grower groups and rural community members demanded the State take steps to insulate

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farmers from mounting financial risks. For instance, resolutions passed by 950 attendees at the ‘Agriculture in Crisis’ meeting held in Merredin demanded the Federal Government abandon its proposed drought reform packages and restore financial assistance packages to drought-affected farmers. Amongst other proposals, there were calls for the establishment of a minimum $300 a tonne floor price for wheat; to provide affordable Risk Mitigation Insurance to give effective cover against natural disasters; to commit to an assistance scheme entailing Exceptional Circumstance provisions, low interest rate loans and drought assistance; and to enact a moratorium on forced farm sales until effective actions to restore industry stability were taken (Beef Central, 2013, April 18). Calls were also made by grower groups for the government to re-establish a ‘rural bank’ (Dowler, 2013, April 16) and to intervene with a $100 million low interest loan package for vulnerable farm businesses ("WA farmers fail to secure premier's help," 2013, April 23).

These proposals were dismissed by the State Government. After more than three decades of neoliberal agriculture, the State sought to impose minimal intervention in the affairs of the market. Instead, the State would allow the market to ‘rationalise’. The position of the State Government was perhaps best articulated by Peter Metcalfe, the then DAFWA grains industry director, who told reporters in response to farmers’ calls for government assistance:

We can make some silly policy decisions around supporting growers and supporting businesses through payments, but when we have done it previously, it hasn't actually helped those businesses. They have stayed in for a couple of years, they have lost their equity, their mental health is not good and so we are of the position based on those previous case studies that letting the industry rationalise is the way to go (Cattle, 2013, March 1).

The Premier of Western Australia relayed an even stricter economically ‘rational’ position to reporters in response to the resolutions passed at the Merredin crisis meeting:

I think most farmers realistically know that the State is not going to start interest rate subsidies across the board or it's not going to start taking over the risks or debts of farmers; that's not going to happen […] We will do all that we can to see that farmers can place a crop in but it’s got to be farmers who are viable […] And it sounds a cruel and hard thing to say, but some farmers probably need to leave

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("Barnett tells farmers some need to walk away," 2013, April 17).23

Acting in concert with three decades of neoliberal agricultural policy, the State Government took measures to ensure that only those farmers who could prove their continued viability would receive State support. However, due to mounting political pressures, two weeks after the Merredin crisis meeting the State Government offered a $7.8 million assistance package for up to 100 farms in the eastern Wheatbelt. Farmers could apply for a one-off financial support payment of up to $25,000 and those wanting to leave the industry could apply for grants of up to $20,000 to help with living and transition expenses. A further $1.8 million were allocated for counselling and social support services, including funds to support community events in the hardest hit shires (Thompson, 2013, April 25). Only those who had secured on-going farm finance would be eligible for the financial support payment; a clause that was criticised by grower groups who argued that those in the direst financial positions would be unable to access assistance ("WA Government payment scheme for struggling farmers oversubscribed," 2013, July 16). Andrew Clark, the head of agribusiness at the National Australia Bank (WA division), commented that the package would only help a small group of farmers and that ultimately it would take a run of good years to solve the debt problem and restore confidence in the Western Australian broadacre sector (Thompson, 2013, April 25). A fortnight later, in response to the assistance package, the Rural Action Movement took the extraordinary step of dumping seven tonnes of wheat outside the Premier’s office in West Perth. The movement’s leader, Greg Kenney, told reporters Western Australian farmers were against the government’s assistance offer, stating: “We’re protesting because of its inadequacy and we’re protesting because really it’s an insult to the bush” (Powell, 2013, May 14).

Tensions between farmers and the State eased somewhat as seasonal rains brought a ‘near perfect start to the growing season’ (Vandenberghe, 2013, May 16). A series of heavy rainfall events in March, followed by an early opening break in April and further widespread rains in May boosted farmers’ confidence and rural community sentiment. Commenting upon the May rains, BusinessAg director, David Falconer, said their importance could not be overstated:

23 The Premier made moves to clarify these comments in a later interview, stating these comments were made in reference to farmers who had reached retirement age and wanted to sell (Thompson, 2013, April 20).

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Rain changes attitudes. It even changes bank attitudes because the banks say ‘hang on, we don’t want this farm sitting vacant, we will allow something to happen.’ Mentally, financially and physically rain is it (Thompson, 2013, May 11).

As a result of the favourable seasonal rains, seeding got underway earlier than usual throughout most of the Wheatbelt, and by late May there was evidence to suggest the crisis was not as bad as previously thought. The then State Agriculture and Food Minister, Ken Baston, revealed there were fewer than forty farm businesses that had not received carry-on finance for the 2013-14 season (Cattle, 2013, May 23). A fortnight later, an online survey conducted by DAFWA found only 6 out of 399 broadacre farmers surveyed would not plant a crop, thereby alleviating fears that large tracts of the Wheatbelt would remain idle in the 2013-14 season (Thompson, 2013, June 7).

Despite the positive results, however, the survey also revealed that 40 percent of respondents were not confident about their futures and that one third of participants perceived that they would face foreclosure by the end of the year if they had another poor harvest (Thompson, 2013, June 7). In review of the survey, DAFWA Director General Rob Delane said the results were not as negative as he had expected. However, Mr Delane also observed that farm numbers had been declining consistently year-on-year for quite some time and that there was evidence of “inexorable pressure” on farming families throughout the region (Thompson, 2013, June 7). Although only a small minority of farmers were unable to secure finance or to plant a crop in the 2013-14 season, the continued viability of a significant proportion of farming enterprises beyond the 2013-14 season appeared reliant upon a good production year.

Despite enjoying the best start to a season in over a decade (Thompson, 2013, June 7) the confidence was short lived. Many areas throughout the central and north-eastern Wheatbelt then experienced their driest June on record (Figure 13). Crop development stalled and in some areas was irreparably damaged. Images emerged in the north-eastern Wheatbelt of a dry, dusty landscape extending to the horizon at a time when the landscape should have been green with germinating crops (Henning, 2013, June 27).

By early July fears of a failed season began to emerge. As shown in Table 6, terms such as ‘desperation’ and ‘crisis’ became prevalent in media reporting describing the deteriorating situation faced by Wheatbelt farmers. In their July crop report, the Grains Industry of Western Australia stated:

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In contrast to the June report, the Western Australian crop is now in a precarious state after a record dry June for rainfall. Yield potential across almost all districts has fallen to just average and for many below average. Extremely favourable sowing conditions, which gave rise to above average yield potential, have given away to despair following very dry conditions throughout June (Grain Industry Association of Western Australia, 2013b).

Fears of a large displacement event by the end of the year began to circulate through the eastern Wheatbelt as some farmers sold off-farm assets to support their failing farm businesses (Wilson, 2013, June 27). As the dry conditions persisted into July, the mental toll on rural communities escalated, resulting in a surge of phone calls to the Regional Men’s Health Initiative by desperate farming families seeking assistance (O. Catto, personal communication, 17th April, 2014).

Figure 13. Western Australian rainfall deciles June, 2013. Reprinted from Monthly Rainfall Declines for Western Australia, by BoM, Retrieved September 27, 2013, from http://www.bom.gov.au/jsp/awap/rain/archive.jsp?colour=colour&map=decile&year=2013&month=6&period= month&area=wa. Copyright 2013 by Commonwealth of Australia. Reprinted with permission.

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By the end of the first week of July, 36,000 sheep had been sent to the Muchea saleyard - 12,000 more than the previous record - thus reflecting the deteriorating state of the central and north-eastern Wheatbelt (Dalzell, 2013, July 9). The coldest overnight minimum temperature in over half a century then hit many areas through the central and upper great southern Wheatbelt regions, threatening moisture-deprived crops (Westcott, 2013, July 8). Bruce Rock Shire president, Stephen Strange, told reporters many farmers would incur irreparable damage to crops if rain did not arrive within the week. For others north of the Great Eastern Highway, Mr Strange said the situation was very serious and that every day without rainfall had significant implications for the health of the crops ("Central Wheatbelt farmers desperate for downpour," 2013, July 9).

Table 6. Media Reports Depicting Agricultural Crisis in the Fortnight 27th June to 9th July, 2013 Media Reports Depicting Agricultural Crisis in the Fortnight 27th June to 9th July, 2013 Date Article Title Publication

27th June Hanging out for rain. Farm Weekly

27th June Dry Wheatbelt facing desperation stages. ABC online

1st July Record dry June leaves Wheatbelt on knife edge. ABC online

1st July Parched eastern Wheatbelt farmers face grim ABC online conditions.

3rd July Farming crisis. 720 ABC Radio, Perth

4th July Crop crisis looms for Wheatbelt farmers. The West Australian

9th July Central Wheatbelt farmers desperate for downpour. ABC online

On the 11th of July, fears of a failed season were alleviated by the arrival of a broad- sweeping cold front which brought desperately needed rain to struggling farmers throughout a majority of the central and north-eastern Wheatbelt. Favourable rains continued to fall throughout July, and by the beginning of August DAFWA industry director, David Bowran, estimated that 85 percent of the Wheatbelt appeared to be in a ‘reasonable position’ (Thompson, 2013, August 1). Additional rainfall events throughout August saw farmers across the great southern and central Wheatbelt regions on track for their best ever production year. Estimates by Plum Grove founder, Tony Smith, indicated that the July and August rains added $600 million to the Wheatbelt sector (Thompson, 2013, August 29). Rain continued to fall throughout September and into October, bringing an extremely favourable finish to the season. Uncomplicated by frost or late rains, by the end of harvest

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it was evident that the Wheatbelt had experienced a remarkable turnaround. Favourable late-season conditions not only brought many farmers back from the brink, it also delivered a 17 million tonne harvest, the largest in the State’s history (Grain Industry Association of Western Australia, 2014a).

The record-breaking harvest of 2013-14 coincided with a year of low volatility in the market price for wheat, thus helping farmers to secure favourable returns. Agvise consultant, Shane Sander, told the media that WA farmers had avoided the “whiplash-inducing wheat market volatility of recent years in the 2013 season” and that the price of wheat only had a trading range of $60. This came in stark contrast to the extreme market volatility seen in previous years throughout the 2000s (Hayes, 2013, November 18). Wheat prices held around the $300/t mark for much of the year which, according to Rabobank acting state manager Stephen Kelly, provided some farmers with a “once in a lifetime season from an income perspective” (Hayes, 2013, November 18). By the end of the year, some farmers had been able to improve their business equity by up to 10 percentage points, prompting an influx of buyers and sellers into the Wheatbelt real estate market (Thompson, 2013, December 17).

While a majority of the Wheatbelt celebrated record harvests, farmers in the northeast encountered another poor production year. Rains that had delivered the remarkable turnaround in the season failed to reach properties in the region’s far north-east. Various farmers located across the north-east reported that the 2013 season was one of their worst on record (de Landgrafft, 2014, January 30). Growing concerns for the continued viability of the region prompted some farmers to defend the viability of their region and the legitimacy of their requests for government assistance through what they saw as a temporary ‘dry period.’ As Southern Cross farmer, Clint Della Bosca, told reporters in February the following year: “We’re being treated like it’s never going to rain again but we all know it will. Why not give the farmers out here the support they need to deal with this dry period and help get them through it? […] Things will turn around; they have done so before” (Bettles, 2014, February 25). It is unclear at the time of writing how many farm establishments were lost in the far north-eastern Wheatbelt as a result of the 2013-14 season. However, as will be discussed in Chapter 8, as climate change trends intensify, it is likely that the favourable rains will not come as they did before to the north-eastern Wheatbelt, thus placing at risk the structure of family farming as it currently exists today.

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5.4.5.1 System summary: a tipping point averted? How close did the Wheatbelt come to experiencing a socio-ecological tipping point in the 2013-14 season? Upon reflection of media reports, it is evident that the 2013-14 season was a precarious year for Wheatbelt family farmers and the broader agricultural industry in general. Mired in debt and highly exposed to unprecedented levels of climatic variability, the future viability of family farming was thrown into question. Reports that between 500 to 1000 famers would have been forced to leave their properties if another poor season was suffered may have been an exaggeration to propel government action. On the other hand, the record breaking attendance of farmers at agricultural crisis meetings across the Wheatbelt would suggest that the situation was serious enough to warrant significant community concern. Certainly the language used by farmers and rural reporters alike to describe the outcome of the 2013-14 season - ‘lucky’, ‘get out of jail’, ‘Houdini rains’, ‘rollercoaster ride’, ‘white knuckle ride’ (e.g. Hayes, 2013, October 24; Wilson & Bartlett, 2013, August 15) alludes to the precarious nature of the 2013-14 season, as do the multiple reports employing the word ‘crisis’ and ‘desperation’ to describe various points throughout the season (see Table 5).

When asked whether 2013-14 was a crucial season for family farmers, most key informants stated that it was extremely important for restoring a degree of confidence in the industry and in farmers’ belief in their own ability to alleviate some of their debt pressures.

[For] those who did well, it was quite important because it’s given them breathing space (counsellor, RFCSWA).

[…] in terms of mental health and guys’ confidence and just going around the traps this year, we’ve been at a number of talks where it was vital to give people the confidence to go again and even a bit of a spring in their step still given the underlying debt issues (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

Several key informants, however, were quick to point out that one season would do little to address the overarching debt problem in the Wheatbelt family farming sector. As CEO of WA Farmers, Dale Park, indicated, despite the record-breaking harvest, the 2013-14 season only paid off $1 billion of the sector’s estimated $14 billion debt (personal communication, 27 March, 2014). Several key informants and community member participants stated that it would take several years of good production and high prices to fully reinstate farmers’ financial security and confidence in the future.

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With regard to declining farm numbers, key informant responses suggest that the record- breaking harvest of 2013-14 would do little to halt the loss of farms across the Wheatbelt. In the short term, the positive result may have actually contributed to a spike of farm establishment loss by allowing farmers who could not previously find buyers to sell. As explained by a financial counsellor servicing the central Wheatbelt:

[…] some of the families I’ve been working with have been on the market for three years and haven’t sold. So it may not have the effect of improving viability of those businesses with very low equity, but what it may do is allow them to exit (counsellor, RFCSWA).

While a positive outcome for those farmers wishing to sell, for others heavily indebted to their lending institutions, the positive harvest result may have only hastened their forced exit from the industry as banks looked to sell properties off the back of a good season (Hayes, 2014, March 22).

For others, the favourable year was thought to delay an inevitable exit from the industry. As one key informant commented, the capacity of family farmers to improve their financial security on the basis of the 2013-14 season would critically depend on their financial management decisions into the future:

For a fair few of them [the 2013-14 season was] very important, and if they dealt with it appropriately it’ll set them up to actually be very viable for a long time. Unfortunately for another quite significant number of them - and I don’t know how many this is, but I reckon about twenty percent - it’s just delaying the inevitable because they will say “that’s good, we’ll get another good season in 2014.” The odds of that happening are not real high. It might be a good season, but it’s got equally as much chance of being a bad one. So if they haven’t used some of the money that they made last year to actually shore up their financial situation going forward then it can be devastating for them (former representative of Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

What the 2013-14 season may have prevented, however, was a sudden mass exit of farmers from the industry. Given that the 2013-14 season was ultimately ‘saved’ by the arrival of lucky rains and stable wheat prices, one has to question what would have happened if conditions remained dry and prices low? To suppose that this alternative scenario could have played out is not idle conjecture as recent history clearly demonstrates that favourable seasonal conditions and stable wheat prices are now the exception rather

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than the norm. A representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative said he would “shudder to think” what would have happened if the 2013-14 season was another poor production year, stating that he believed the rate of farm loss would have been double or triple the historical norm.

From a systems perspective, insight into what may have transpired if another poor production year had eventuated was provided by a representative of the Australian Export Grains Innovation Centre. According to the key informant, another poor season would have significantly undermined the economic position of many family farmers and the Wheatbelt region as a whole. He states:

I think what would have happened is that a higher proportion of the businesses would [have been] forced by their lenders to exit. I think land prices would have crashed because so much land would be forced onto the market and there would be few willing buyers. There would be buyers: there would be people who would buy that land, but the prices offered for that land would not be attractive to farmers who owned that land. I think a lot of land would have not been sold but would have been leased. So I think what would have happened, and probably banks would have allowed this, is that vast tracts of the land would be available for leasing with the farm families not allowed to own or operate that land so that they would, in effect, they might be forced off their farms. So it would be a really stressful socially irksome sequence that would unfold. The towns would really feel under financial duress. The psychological pain would be immense. The political pressure to do something would be immense. So I suspect what would happen is that concessional finance would be made available to those farming families so that they could remain for a few more years. But I think you would just find there would be forced adjustment (representative of AEGIC).

Though stating that forced structural adjustment would have been a likely outcome if another drought year were to occur, when asked whether the Wheatbelt had avoided crossing a socio-ecological tipping point during the 2013-14 season, the same key informant responded:

I don’t think 2013, if it was dry, would have been a tipping point. It crucially depends on the severity: if it was a really severe drought then a lot of structural adjustment would have been forced to occur in 2014. If it was just a dry year a lot of businesses would just have hung in. So I wouldn’t like to say that we dodged 2013 being a tipping point.

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Despite the expert opinion documented above, it remains difficult to assess with confidence how close the Wheatbelt SES travelled towards a socio-ecological tipping point in the 2013-14 season. While there is evidence to suggest that complex adaptive systems begin to ‘stutter’ or show signs of increased variance before undergoing a regime shift (see: Carpenter & Brock, 2006), it is also difficult to assess to what degree the variance on display within the Wheatbelt (e.g. wheat yield, price, farm revenue) is indicative of an impending regime shift or simply a reflection of the Wheatbelt’s response to global sources of variability and instability (e.g. market volatility and anthropogenic climate change). Despite this uncertainty, the evidence presented in this chapter does support the claim that the Wheatbelt SES had cycled to the very late stages of the conservation phase and therefore to a point of extremely low resilience during the 2013-14 season. The system had become extremely vulnerable to external shocks and disturbances, and its continued normative functioning tightly coupled to ephemeral sources of stability (e.g. rainfall, prices, land values, interest rates). It is in this ‘precarious’ state (Walker et al., 2004) of high exposure and vulnerability to risk that a tipping point may very well have been a plausible outcome of the 2013-14 season if ‘luck’ had run the other way.

Fortunately for farmers in the Wheatbelt, the 2014-15 season proved to be another year of favourable climatic and market conditions. However, despite improving the financial position of many farmers, the 2013-14 and 2014-15 seasons are argued here to have done little to remedy the systemic vulnerabilities inherent within the Wheatbelt SES. Considering the Wheatbelt SES remains within a panarchical system increasingly destabilised by anthropogenic climate change and high market volatility, it is likely that the non-linear and emergent nature of climate change will continue to expose and exacerbate latent vulnerabilities within the structure of the Wheatbelt SES to the detriment of family farmers into the future.

5.5 Conclusions There are several conclusions to take away from this resilience analysis. First, the crisis point that emerged in the 2013-14 season cannot be attributed to any one cause; rather, the Wheatbelt SES was driven towards a point of crisis by various environmental, economic and social drivers operating both within and external to the system. While climate change certainly eroded the financial viability of family farmers, particularly in the 2000s, the climate risks encountered by farmers were amplified by an SES already exposed and vulnerable to external sources of disturbance. The structure of the family farm had become highly sensitive to fluctuations in wheat yield with the shift to a crop-dominant farm

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system, and these risks were amplified by neoliberal socio-economic policies that exposed farmers to fluctuations in global commodity markets. Furthermore, the influence of neoliberal doctrine on Australia’s drought policies also ensured that farmers would shoulder environmental risks latent within the structure of the Wheatbelt SES. So while it cannot be stated with certainty the exact extent to which climate change has eroded the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES or contributed to farm loss throughout the region, it can be concluded that the stepwise shifts in the regional climate exacerbated vulnerabilities already present within the structure of the Wheatbelt SES and created new risks for Wheatbelt family farmers highly dependent on consistent and predictable seasonal conditions.

The second conclusion to be derived from this resilience analysis is that the risk of encountering another crisis point in the future persists despite Wheatbelt farmers enjoying high production years in the 2013-14 and 2014-15 seasons. As previously discussed, the record-breaking harvest did little to address the structural vulnerabilities operating within the Wheatbelt SES. Without significant technological, economic or policy intervention, it is possible that crisis points, such as the one encountered in the 2013-14 season, will be encountered again as climate change impacts intensify across all levels of the panarchy. Chapter 8 addresses these issues further and explores what may become of farmers’ endemic sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing in a future climate-changed world.

Third, this resilience analysis highlights farmers’ exposure to local-to-global climatic, economic and social forces that have the potential to rupture relationships between people and place. The deterioration of farmers’ economic security, the breakdown of historical climatic norms, and the loss of farm establishments are not merely economic, social or environmental facts without meaning or emotional significance. Rather, as will be demonstrated in following chapters, they are forces that frame farmers’ lived experiences of place, shape their emotional and psychological connections to their places, and that have the potential to threaten their place-related mental health and wellbeing. From an ecohealth perspective, understanding the context within which human health issues arise is just as important a task as understanding human health itself, for human health is inextricably tied to the health of the environment and the socio-ecological forces that shape relationships between people and place through time. To this end, this chapter has shown that rapidly changing climatic conditions are driving transformations within the

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Wheatbelt SES that undermine the productivity and profitability of family farming and the ability of Wheatbelt farming families to remain in their chosen places. It is from this position that this research now turns to examine the characteristics of farmers’ sense of place (Chapter 6) and their lived experiences of climate-driven place-based distress (Chapter 7).

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Chapter 6: Farmers’ sense of place ______

6.1 Introduction It is clear from the evidence presented in the previous chapter that changing climatic conditions are causing disruptions to the social and ecological order of the Wheatbelt. Through its interactions with other environmental, economic and social drivers of change, changing climatic conditions have undermined the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES and, in doing so, have forced many family farmers out of the sector. While it can be concluded that anthropogenic climate change has put at risk the socio-ecological conditions that sustain family farming, it remains unclear how changing climatic conditions are impacting the mental health and wellbeing of Wheatbelt family farmers. The contention put forward in this thesis is that a better understanding of climate-related mental health risks to farmers can be gained by exploring how climate change undermines relationships between people and place. However, before this can be done, it is first necessary to examine the characteristics of farmers’ ‘sense of place.’

The purpose of this chapter is to examine the conditions that create and/or sustain a strong and positive sense of place amongst family farmers, and the ways in which ‘place’ is important for farmers’ mental health and wellbeing. The following discussion centres upon five themes: 1) locus of attachment, 2) predictors of place attachment, 3) place meanings, 4) place identity, and 5) place and wellbeing. The discussion is informed by interviews conducted with farming families who live and work upon their own broadacre farming properties as well as key informants representing a range of community, governmental and private organisations in operation across the Wheatbelt region.

Articulating place-related meanings and emotions can be difficult for residents who have long associations with a place, for places are often rendered invisible by residents’ familiarity with them (Tuan, 1974). It is for this reason that community member participants were asked to reflect upon their sense of place and that of their partners and/or children. Interviews with key informants also proved to be particularly useful for illuminating aspects of farmers’ sense of place that may have otherwise been overlooked by family farmer participants. What follows is the first systematic investigation specifically examining Australian farmers’ sense of place. The findings presented in this chapter

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provide the basis for examining farmers’ experiences of climate-induced place-based distress in Chapter 7.

6.2 Locus of attachment A prudent place to start this discussion is to examine where family farmers feel their strongest sense of place. This is an important task, as previous research has shown individuals have the capacity to form emotional and psychological relationships to a range of different places whose meanings often overlap, merge and conflate (see Lewicka, 2011). Thus, if location is left undifferentiated or undefined, it then becomes difficult to ascertain exactly what is meant by a ‘sense of place.’ As discussed in Chapter 2, this is a problem in some previous studies that have, to limited extent, engaged with Australian farmers’ sense of place (e.g. Lankester, 2013; Marshall, Park, Howden, Dowd, & Jakku, 2013b; Marshall et al., 2012).

For the purpose of this line of inquiry, participants were asked to consider to which location they felt the strongest emotional and/or psychological connection. In the first round of interviews, questions addressing participants’ sense of place were left undefined with regard to a specific spatial scale. This was done to allow the locus of farmers’ sense of place to emerge unfettered by the influence of prior assumptions. While it was evident that most participants felt an emotional connection to the community and to the broader Wheatbelt region, an overwhelming majority of farmers’ responses to questions regarding their sense of place were directed towards their farming properties.

To clarify this point, participants were asked in the second interview round whether they felt a stronger sense of connection to the community or to their own farm properties. Of the 20 participants asked this question, 15 indicated that they felt a stronger emotional bond to their farming properties than to the community of Newdegate, while another four participants indicated that they had difficulty separating their feelings for the farm from their feelings for the community.24 Only one participant indicated that they felt a stronger sense of connection to the community than to their farm. In several instances, participants regarded the farm as primary reason for why they continued to live in Newdegate:

I’m more connected to my farm than I am to Newdegate as a township. If something happens and I couldn’t remain farming I doubt I would want to move into Newdegate and

24Not all interviews conformed exactly to the interview schedules due to their semi-structured format. While care was taken to ask participants the same questions, some questions were omitted to maintain interview flow and to allow further probing into emergent themes.

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want to live in this community. I like the community; it’s a strong community and I contribute to it where I can, but it’s my farm that’s got me here, not the little town of Newdegate (CS, R1).

It’d be the farm, this is my home. Newdegate is the town. If the farm were to be in Williams it’d be the same. You make the town to work for you (SM, R2).

Well, I don’t think we would live here if there was no town because there is nothing for you so they probably go hand in hand. I’d probably have to say ‘farm’ because I don’t think Daniel would live here without the farm because I suppose there is nothing else for him here. There is not enough industry and there is not enough outside farming work here. So yeah, if we weren’t on the farm we wouldn’t be here. So we’re tied more to the farm than to the town I suppose you’d have to say. But they do go hand in hand a lot of the time as well (TM, R2).

Consistent with the participants quoted above, all but two participants indicated that they would not continue to live in Newdegate if forced to give up the farm. This is a significant finding as it suggests that farmers are likely to relocate from their rural communities if they are no longer able to remain on their farming properties. While perhaps not an unsurprising finding amongst younger participants given their greater mobility, it was unforeseen that older participants, particularly those that had spent a vast majority of their lives living in the community of Newdegate, would offer a similar response. Whether such a result holds for farmers living in larger rural centres is unclear, as larger communities tend to offer a greater range of off-farm employment opportunities as well as a greater level of access to social and cultural amenity, both of which are likely to influence farmers’ decisions to remain in a community. Further research is therefore required to examine what social and economic factors may influence farmers to stay in their communities if they were to lose the farm, and to what extent a critical mass of people and economic activity is required to prevent rural communities from collapsing if family farming was rendered unviable by climatic and/or economic forces.

6.3 Predictors of place attachment Much has been written on the factors that promote strong emotional attachments to place. In her comprehensive review of place literature, Lewicka (2011) shows that socio- demographic, social, and physical-environmental factors act as predictors of place attachment amongst various groups and populations. However, little is known about what

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factors influence the development of strong emotional bonds to the farm amongst Australian farming families. In order to understand what other factors are likely to promote a strong sense of place attachment amongst farming families, a novel approach was adopted here that required participants to reflect on what ‘type’ of farmer they perceived to have the stronger emotional connection to their farming properties.

Participants were asked to consider which of the following four types of farmer were likely to have the strongest emotional and psychological bonds to their farming properties:

1. generational farmers: those who had inherited the family farm from their parents and/or grandparents;

2. new-land farmers: those who had cleared their own blocks and established their own farmland;

3. enterprise farmers: those who own and manage their own farms but had bought an existing farm enterprise;

4. farm managers: those who manage the land on behalf of someone else.

The purpose of this task was to ascertain what sort of experiences participants thought would confer the strongest sense of place amongst broadacre farmers. Although farm managers were not interviewed as part of this research, it is argued here that family farmers’ perceptions of them serve as a mirror for reflecting what conditions or experiences they consider as important for promoting a strong sense of emotional and psychological attachment to the farm. It is important to note that many of the participants interviewed as part of this research fell into several of these categories concomitantly, with their farm enterprises comprising a mix of new land, inherited land, and purchased land. A mixture of these predictors may therefore promote a strong sense of place attachment amongst family farmers.

6.3.1 Length of residence Previous research has consistently shown ‘length of residence’ to be a strong predictor of place attachment (e.g. Brown & Raymond, 2007; Hernandez, Hidalgo, Salazar-Laplace, & Hess, 2007; Jorgensen & Stedman, 2006; Knez, 2005; Lewicka, 2010). Amongst the participants interviewed in this study, length of residence on the farm at time of interview (2013) ranged from 5 to 62 years, with over half of all participants having lived on their farming properties for 30 years or more. In most cases, each participant had spent a

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majority of their lives living and working upon their farming property. Four male farmers were born and raised on the property which they owned and operated. In addition, most of the male farmers who participated in this research continued to live and work upon land that was once owned and managed by their fathers, grandfathers, and in some cases, their great grandfathers. This is not unusual in the Wheatbelt, where the average length of family history on any given farming property is approximately 70 years (personal communication, representative of Farming and Beyond, May 1, 2014).

Leaving issues of family history and family heritage aside for the moment, it is important to note that unlike most urban dwellers whose place of work and home tend to be separate, the ‘farm’ is both a living and a working environment (Rogers et al., 2013). As such, the majority of farmers’ daily experiences take place within the boundaries of the farming property. Without the need to venture into town for business, several male farmers indicated that it was not uncommon for them to spend months at a time within the boundaries of their respective properties, leaving only occasionally for sporting or social club commitments. Also, while a majority of the female interviewees participated in part- time off-farm work, they too indicated that a majority of their time was spent within the boundaries of their farming properties. The farming property, therefore, is central to farmers’ life histories and daily experiences, and it is this constant exposure and immersion in the farm environment that may explain why family farmers in this research felt a stronger connection to their farming properties than to the Newdegate community.

Because this research employed qualitative methodologies, it could not be ascertained whether farmers with a longer history living and working on their properties had a stronger emotional attachment to the farm than those with a shorter history, and neither could it be ascertained whether those who spend a greater percentage of their time on the farm have a stronger sense of emotional attachment as compared with those who engage in a greater amount of off-farm activities. A quantitative research design may be of some use in resolving these questions. For example, Lankester (2013), in a study examining place attachment amongst Australian beef producers, found length of residence positively correlated with strength of place attachment. It is unclear whether such findings would find application amongst broadacre family farmers. However, given the various studies that have reported similar findings in other populations, it is likely that length of residence would also be a strong predictor of broadacre family farmers’ strength of place attachment.

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6.3.2 Ownership ‘Farm ownership’ was considered by participants to be a vital prerequisite for the development of strong emotional attachments to the farm. This was evident in participants’ discussion of their feelings towards leased land and their perceptions of farm managers’ sense of place. Starting with the former, several participants indicated that they did not have the same sense of emotional attachment to leased farmland as compared with land that they owned as part of the family farm enterprise. Leased land was viewed predominately as an economic unit incorporated into the farm enterprise as a means of generating additional income. As such, participants openly admitted to not feeling as much of a sense of responsibility to its upkeep:

[…] leased blocks are a mine. You’re there to get as much money as you can. You don’t want to trash it or leave it looking worse, but you’re not going to treat it like a Rolls Royce.

(interviewer) Because it’s not yours?

That’s it. All you’re doing is adding value to it for when you try and buy it later! (Laughs) (QY, R3).

Ownership was often thought by participants to confer a sense of responsibility and care for the land. This is evident in farmers’ discussions below in reference to whether they would feel the same emotional attachment and sense of responsibility towards the land if they did not own it:

It wouldn’t be as strong by any means, no. Even a leased block I don’t think … it’s different if you own it and you’ve got the responsibility for managing it (CS, R1).

Well, ownership brings with it a bit of pride and a bit of responsibility; whereas if you’re leasing, those things are not there. Not that I’ve really been involved in leasing, but certainly the ownership thing is important in my mind (CY, R2).

A similar sentiment could be seen in participants’ perceptions of farm managers’ feelings towards their farmland. Of the ‘types’ of farmers discussed here, participants consistently perceived farm managers to have the weakest emotional bonds to the farm. For participants, it was farm managers’ non-ownership of the land that was thought to underlie their perceived lack of emotional involvement in the farm:

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Yeah, well you think about the way I talk about lease farms - and that’s all that it is: farm managers are just lease farmers. And even then if you try and tie up their pay to their production they’ll just cut the margin more (QY, R3).

[…] because it’s not theirs. That’s it. It’s a bit like if you’ve got a rental car: do you treat it just the same as your own car? (CS, R3).

From participants’ discussions about their feelings towards leased land and their perceptions of farm managers’ sense of place, it is evident that ‘ownership’ is a significant component of their own personal relationships to the farm. In particular, ownership was seen to confer a sense of care and responsibility to the farm land; without which, a sense of care was perceived to be lost. However, it may also be the case that farm ownership is a vital prerequisite for forming strong emotional bonds to the farm:

You fall in love with your land. You fall in love with your paddocks and everything about them. And if it’s not yours it’s pretty hard to get that bond I suppose and that passion for it (DY, R3).

In similar work conducted in other contexts, ‘home ownership’ has been demonstrated to elicit strong feelings of place attachment (e.g. Bolan, 1997; Brown, Perkins, & Brown, 2003), though it is rarely stated why this should be the case. One theory for why ownership should promote strong feelings of place attachment can be derived from an argument put forward by Malpas (2008) who contends private ownership of land tends to confer a strong sense of place because of the centrality of private property rights in Western economic and political thought. If this is the case, then perhaps it is unsurprising that ownership would feature so heavily in a farm family’s sense of place, and that farm managers would be perceived to have a lesser emotional connection to the land than those who own the land upon which they live and work.

Farmers’ ability to retain ownership over their farmland may become increasingly difficult as climate change impacts intensify into the future. These themes are examined further in Chapter 8.

6.3.3 Control Another consistent predictor of place attachment is one’s level of perceived control over a location (e.g. Harlan et al., 2005, August; Terkenli, 1995). The ability to control or exert influence over a location has been shown to influence the scale at which emotional

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attachments to place are likely to form (Lewicka, 2010), as well as residents’ willingness to engage in actions to defend or promote places that they consider to be important (Proshansky et al., 1983). In this research, ownership and control were perceived by participants to be tightly related in the development of a strong sense of place, as ownership was perceived to give farmers the opportunity to introduce changes into their environment. Farm managers were perceived to have little control over the manner in which they manage their farming properties, with all major decisions assumed to be deferred to an off-site managerial team or owner. The perceived lack of opportunity afforded to farm managers to engage with daily and strategic management decisions was also seen by participants to limit their opportunity to be intimately connected to the land:

[…] a lot of farm managers I know are being told how to farm that piece of land […] and I think because you’re making those decisions about what you’re doing every day of the week, that that brings you closer to the land and [makes you] feel more responsible because you’re responsible for the land. Whereas I think if you were just managing it you wouldn’t feel that same responsibility (BS, R3).

Participants also considered farm managers to be financially and emotionally insulated from the consequences of their management decisions. As one participant explained, the guarantee of a fixed income was considered to lessen the personal significance of management decisions undertaken by farm managers and to guard them against the consequences of adverse seasonal conditions. In other words, farm managers’ dependence on the land was perceived to be less than that for family farmers:

[…] a farm manager has an income that they’re going to get no matter what. So if it doesn’t rain - yeah it sucks, he might miss out, [but] a lot of managers are on a salary and then get a bit of a bonus, a percentage above and beyond if it is a good year or something. They still have money in their pocket at the end of the day. Whereas if it doesn’t rain we don’t get money […] If we don’t have money we can’t live and we can’t give our kids what they need, and we can’t send them to the better school (TM, R3).

Control and its relationship to farmers’ emotional connections to the farm is also demonstrated in participants’ discussions of generational farmers’ sense of place. Participants generally perceived generational farmers to have strong emotional connections to their respective farming properties owing to their family history on the land. However, there was also a sense that it may be difficult for some younger generational

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farmers to form close emotional bonds to the farm if there is little opportunity for them to put one’s ‘stamp’ upon the land:

I think for those who inherit [the farm] there seems to be … there is not quite that attachment to start with. I’m not saying that it doesn’t develop in time, but because they’ve inherited it there hasn’t been … I look at Aaron, he’d like it if there was still land to be developed so he’d have what is involved with that blood, sweat and tears and originally fencing it and stuff like that. I guess putting your first stamp on everything […] And this is where this inherited one is very tricky because so much has already been done … which is very hard because that is where so much is already there - so much infrastructure and stuff is already there. It is having the work for them to do when it isn’t seeding, harvest or shearing (DS, R2).

Issues of succession play heavily into the continued success of farming family enterprises (Crosby, 1998; Honey & Evans, 2007), and it is likely that the manner in which the succession process unfolds within a given family unit will also influence the strength of emotional attachment generational farmers feel towards the farm. Each generational farmer who participated in this research had been given the opportunity to make considerable changes to the physical structure of the farming property as well as to the economic structure of the farming enterprise. It is perhaps for this reason that most of the generational farmers interviewed here displayed a strong sense of attachment to their farming properties.

In this discussion it is evident that having a sense of control over one’s farming environment is perceived by participants not only to promote a sense of responsibility and intimacy towards the farm, but also to heighten the significance of farm management decisions for the farming family. Previous studies have shown that a lack of perceived control over one’s environment, especially if it is changing in ways that are perceived to be negative, has the potential to elicit negative emotional and psychological outcomes amongst residents with a strong sense of place attachment (Albrecht, 2005; Fried, 1963; Sartore et al., 2008). A perceived loss of control over the farm environment also appears to be a core driver of farmers’ place-based distress. This is considered further with regard to a changing climate in the next chapter.

6.3.4 Personal investment The degree to which a farmer was seen to have invested personal time and effort into the development or maintenance of the farm was also perceived by participants to promote

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strong emotional connections to the farm. This is evident in participants’ discussion of generational and new land farmers’ sense of place. Starting with the former, there was a perception shared amongst several participants that inheritance of the family farm had the potential to breed a sense of entitlement amongst those in line to inherit the farm from their parents. In turn, inheriting the family farm was seen to diminish one’s emotional attachment and sense of responsibility towards it. As one participant described, inheritance was like a ‘catch twenty-two’ in that some generational farmers are ‘massively proud’ to have inherited the family farm, whereas others who have been ‘silver spooned’ the farm may not have a similar sense of attachment or personal commitment to it (JM, R2). This would suggest that hard work and dedication are required for the development of strong emotional and psychological connections to the farm. Other participants also shared this sentiment:

You do see that the farmers who inherit farms, especially after generations, it tends to get too easy I think. Sometimes they get a bit careless, I suppose (HS, R2).

Yeah…they always say traditionally the first generation does it, the second generation helps it, and the third wastes it. If it’s too easy you need a goal. Jeff has other goals, he’s good like that. But generally in history that’s what happens - the third or fourth [generation] gets it too easy and they don’t want to do it (TY, R2).

The assertion that personal investment in the farm, particularly through hard work and sacrifice, is required for the development of a strong place attachment is also supported by participants’ perceptions of new land farmers. Of the four types of farmers discussed here, new land farmers were perceived by all of the participants to have the strongest emotional and psychological attachments to their farming properties. New land farmers were thought to have shed ‘blood, sweat and tears’ on their farming properties, a term used to denote the hardships, both physical and financial, new land farmers were assumed to have encountered in developing their land. It is for this reason that participants perceived new land farmers to have stronger emotional and psychological attachments to their farm properties than the other ‘types’ of farmers discussed here:

I don’t think it [emotional attachments to the farm] could ever be as strong as someone that has cleared their own land. You know, those blokes obviously did it pretty tough in those days. Coming out here in those days, especially some of the real older generation with limited gear and stuff and clearing and getting it all started […] I can

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definitely understand how they’d have such a strong sense of ownership I suppose and achievement. They’ve made it a farm whereas before it was just a piece of bush (JM, R1).

The new land farmers interviewed as part of this research had indeed all endured rudimentary living conditions, the uncertainty that comes when developing unknown and unproven land, as well as the sheer hard work required to transform areas of native vegetation into productive farmland. However, it was difficult to ascertain whether new land farmers shared a similar image of themselves as those imaged by other farmers. There was a tendency amongst all participants, and particularly the older ones amongst them, to downplay their achievements and whatever hardships they may have experienced. Nevertheless, such perceptions, whether real or imagined, are presumed to elevate the notion of new land farmers in the minds of those who have not cleared their own land, giving new land farmers a certain status as the ‘prototypical farmer’ within rural communities.

Participants also perceived new land farmers as having particularly detailed and intimate knowledge of their farmlands. This knowledge was also thought to underlie new land farmers’ perceived strong personal attachments to the farm. While undertaking clearing activities, new land farmers were required to invest much time and effort traversing their land removing ‘poison bush’ (a type of Gastrolobium), Mallee roots25 and rocks. In doing so, new land farmers were perceived to know ‘every square inch’ of their land. The following comments from a new land farmer who had engaged in clearing activities in the 1960s would seem to confirm such a presumption:

We’d rip up with ploughs and pull all these Mallee roots out, so we had to go pick them all […] Me and the workmen would leave and go with the truck, and when Mary had finished her breakfast and cleaned up she would come sit in the truck and we’d run alongside the truck - wouldn’t walk, we’d run alongside the truck. […] We’d do that for … two weeks? And then you’d take your boots off because your boots would fill up full of sand, so you’d do it in bare feet. And it was funny - the funny thing about it was you could feel what the year was like. Because if the ground was warm - because in winter it gets pretty cold - you could feel that the ground was warm and so it’s good (TY, R2).

25 The term ‘Mallee’ describes both a type of habitat and various types of Eucalyptus trees consisting of multiple stems. As a type of tree, some Mallees produce bulbous woody roots containing water which allow them to regenerate quickly after fire. Mallee roots are difficult to extract from farmland and, due to their pointed features, present a hazard to farm machinery. Such was their ubiquity throughout the region, the Wheatbelt was once known as the ‘Mallee Belt’ (Beresford et al., 2001).

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New land farmers and those who had engaged in clearing activities are likely to have experienced a degree of bodily connection with their farmland unknown to non-new land farmers. For phenomenologists of place, the movement of the living body through a landscape is a fundamental requirement for the development of a sense of place (Seamon, 2013). As the phenomenologically-orientated humanistic geographer Yi FuTuan (1974) wrote of farmers’ topophilia:

The small farmer or peasant’s attachment to the land is deep. Nature is known through the need to gain a living. French workers, when their bodies ache with fatigue, say that ‘their trades have entered into them.’ For the labouring farmer, nature has entered […] Muscles and scars bear witness to the physical intimacy of the contact. The farmers’ topophilia is compounded of this physical intimacy, of material dependence and the fact that the land is a repository of memory and sustains hope (p. 97).

Although Tuan’s comments are directed at ‘small farmers’, the work of large scale broadacre farmers still requires a degree of physical contact with the land, either through the removal of remnant Mallee roots, rocks and tree branches, or by aiding livestock from fences or silted dams. While farmers’ physical intimacy with the land has almost certainly declined over recent decades as machinery has come to replace human labour and restrictions were passed on land clearing, there are still opportunities for the land to enter into the bodies of farmers through cuts and scars, aches and strains. However, as farm sizes grow and farm labour is further replaced or insulated from the biophysical environment by smart technologies, opportunities for farmers to ‘know’ their land in a corporeal manner may further decline into the future.

Personal investment, then, can be thought of as the degree to which farmers have undertaken hard work and suffered material deprivation in the course of developing, maintaining or improving their farmland. Participating in such activities was perceived to foster a sense of pride and accomplishment amongst farmers which, in turn, was thought to contribute to the development of a strong sense of attachment towards the farm. Participating in clearing activities seems to be central to this, and for providing farmers the opportunity to gain an intimate understanding and knowledge of the land. While there may always be opportunities for family farmers to financially invest in the farm, the degree to which they can emotionally invest in the farm - particularly through hard physical labour - may only diminish into the future with the increased use of smart machinery and other labour-saving technologies. Furthermore, it is important to note that personal investment

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in a place is contingent upon the degree to which an individual is free to make decisions and carry out actions that shape the physical structure of the location. Personal investment in a place requires that an individual has the ability to exert control over a location, which also usually involves owning the land in question. If the intergenerational transfer of the family farm were to breakdown, or if ownership of the land and the control that it infers were removed, it is difficult to envisage how farmers could invest personal meaning and significance into their farmland in the creation of a strong endemic sense of place. These themes are discussed further in Chapter 8.

6.3.5 Summary The above discussion by no means provides a comprehensive list of all the factors that are likely to contribute to farmers’ place attachment, and neither do these factors stand in isolation. Length of residence, farm ownership, a sense of control and one’s personal investment in the farm are all likely to combine in the formation of farmers’ sense of place, with some elements being stronger or weaker for individuals depending upon their personal preferences, personality traits and life experiences. However, from this discussion we can begin to get a sense of the factors that are important in the development and maintenance of a strong endemic sense of place amongst broadacre farming families. Such an understanding, in turn, provides direction for examining the way in which a changing climate may undermine, either directly or indirectly, the conditions important for the continuation of farmers’ endemic sense of place and their place-related mental health and wellbeing (see Chapters 7 and 8).

In exploring an individual’s or a group’s sense of place, it is important not only to attend to the factors that promote or diminish the strength of one’s place attachment, but also to the place-meanings that give locations their emotional and psychological significance. The meanings with which farmers imbue their farm properties are examined in the next section.

6.4 Place meanings (home and work) Meaning is central to the definition of place (Gieryn, 2000; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974; Williams, 2014a). It is the meaningful dimensions of place that delineate place from space (Tuan, 1977) and that give locations their power to influence human mental health and wellbeing (Adger et al., 2011a). In the context of Australian family farmers, previous research has shown the farm finds meaning both as a living and a working environment (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Rogers et al., 2013). However, it is not

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well understood how family farmers negotiate the meanings of ‘home’ and ‘work’ on their farming properties, or how potential tensions or overlaps between these two environments impact upon farmers’ lived experiences of place and their place-related mental health and wellbeing.

Broadly, it was found that the instrumentalities of the farming enterprise and the more intrinsically and emotionally significant aspects of the home-farm do not sit in isolation from one another, and that neither do they always sit comfortably side by side. This tension, termed the ‘home-work tension,’ is examined here.

6.4.1 The geography of the home-work tension Previous research has found that family farmers tend not to regard the act of farming solely in economic terms. Indeed, as the Expert Social Panel on Dryness (see: Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008) conclude: “there is an intrinsic value to farming as a way of life and some are unwilling to accept, or simply operate within, a business-framed model” (p. 11). Consistent with these findings, participants interviewed in this research considered farming to be a livelihood and a lifestyle:

Well I think it’s both. I’ve heard people have the opinion that it’s nothing to do with the lifestyle - ‘it’s straight business’. Well I don’t agree with that. I think it’s definitely lifestyle. But it’s not just lifestyle because it’s got to be a business and you’ve got to be viable. So the figures are very important, no doubt about that (CS, R2).

I’ve always tried to make it a job, but it definitely has a lifestyle aspect to it (CY, R2).

I think it is probably a lifestyle and a job I suppose (FO, R2).

Well we’ve been discussing this with people over the last period of time - it’s a lifestyle way of making a living. That’s what it is. Maybe that isn’t quite the phraseology, but that’s how I put it. That’s the only way I can put it (TY, R2).

One of the reasons why the act of farming is regarded in this way by family farmers is perhaps related to their perceptions of the farm as both a place of home and work. Understanding the farm as a place of home is important for understanding the significance of the farm property for family farmers’ emotional and psychological wellbeing. ‘Home’ is consistently regarded as the most complex and emotionally significant geographical location in peoples’ lives (Albrecht, 2011; Blunt, 2005; Blunt & Dowling, 2006; Lewicka,

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2011; Relph, 1976). More than simply a house or location, home is imbued with rich personal meanings, memories, life experiences, and family relationships, all of which give the home environment its deep intrinsic meaning and value (see Easthope, 2004; Mallett, 2004). Because of this, scholars have considered home to be “an irreplaceable centre of significance” (Relph, 1976, p. 39), the “prototypical place” (Lewicka, 2011, p. 211), and a “major fixed reference point for the structuring of reality” (Porteous, 1976, p. 386). Psychologically, the home serves various functions by providing residents a sense of security (Dovey, 1985; Porteous, 1976), belonging (Mallett, 2004), and privacy (Saunders & Williams, 1988). More profoundly, however, the home is also viewed as a vital component in the development of the self-concept (Blunt, 2014; Dupuis & Thorns, 1998; Proshansky et al., 1983). Emotionally, psychologically and existentially, it is the home that provides for most people the central reference point of their lives (Relph, 1976).

In urban areas, home is typically associated with “basic dwelling units” such as the house or the apartment (Lewicka, 2011, p. 212). However, for farming families who live and work on their own properties, locating the site of home was not so straightforward. For many participants, the geographical boundaries of home were difficult to define. It was not uncommon for participants to offer contradictory accounts when asked where they felt home was located. For some, the entire farm was home; and yet, the house, gardens and sheds in isolation from the paddocks were also regarded as a home. For example, one participant indicated that home is ‘where the house is - that’s obviously your little nucleus: that’s home’, before going on to state in the same response: ‘but generally speaking, if you say ‘go home’ you refer to the whole farm I think’ (CS, R1). For others, home was relative to their location. When in Perth, several participants regarded the entire farm as home; however, when on the farm, the house and surrounding gardens were home:

If you’re going home you’re going to your house, I think. But if you’re in Perth the whole farm is your home. When you’re talking to other people you tell them about the whole lot, you don’t just say you’re going back to your house (DY, R1).

For others still, the boundaries of home were relative to what activities were being carried out on the farm. For one female participant, though not directly stated, her notion of home seemed to contract during seeding and harvest and expand during the non-peak times of the year (i.e. summer and mid-winter). These features would suggest that farmers’ notions

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of home are not fixed to any one geographical scale and that, for some, the geographical boundaries of home are dynamic and seasonally-contingent.

Further complicating farmers’ definition of home, a strong theme to emerge amongst participants was the blurring of the home and work environments. As the following quotes attest, participants generally found it difficult to separate ‘home’ from ‘work’, thereby suggesting that both environments are somewhat consubstantiated:

[…] this is our work environment, but it’s also our home environment, so it’s a bit of a mixture (CS, R2).

I think I have difficulty with that one. I suppose living on the farm you’re immersed in what is going on all the time, so it’s a bit hard to split it (NL, R2).

They blur. Home and work is one thing and it’s just called ‘the farm’ [Laughs] (SY, R2).

There is zero definition between work and home on a farm - it’s all merged which is good and bad (TM, R2).

Why should it be that the home and work environments blur together on the family farm? One reason offered by participants was the lack of physical separation between these environments. Meanings of work were typically given to the sheds and paddocks; however, in most instances the sheds and the paddocks were clearly visible from inside the house (see Figure 14 next page). As a consequence, many felt themselves to be immersed within the farm environment:

[…] when you’re on a farm you get up in the morning, have a stretch and you walk around and you can see it: it’s there - it’s with you. If you lived in town it wouldn’t be with you; you would have to drive to the place of work. But if you live there, it is there all the time. Not that you want to, but you can’t get away from it. It’s there. You open the door and you can see the sheep which is a marvellous thing to see - to see sheep walking around. Couldn’t imagine a farm without sheep or livestock. It’s there […] It’s in your face (TY, R1).

Another reason offered by participants was the tendency for the home environment to enter into the work environment via family interactions. Meanings of ‘family’ and ‘home’ tend to be closely associated, so much so that some have considered the terms

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interchangeable.26 Due to the farm being both a living and working environment, participants highlighted the tendency for family and work activities to intersect. In doing so, as one participant explained, the home environment effectively ‘enters into’ the work environment and vice versa:

In our current set up I will send the kids out with Dave or Sam to go chase sheep: so that’s home life going into work life. Where if, say for instance, Dave was a manager on a farm, that wouldn’t be appropriate: you shouldn’t send your kids into the work place. We cook meals to take over to workers, mulesers, to crutchers: its stuff that comes from in the home out onto the farm. So there is that big blur. Stuff that you wouldn’t do anywhere else you tend to do because it’s a bit of both (SY, R2).

It is interesting to consider to what extent this blurring of the home and work environments contributes to family farmers’ sense of place, and to what degree these types of experiences would be possible if the farming property was solely a place of work. The blurring of the home and work environments may be a unique characteristic of the family farmer mode of economic enterprise and one that contributes uniquely to the development of family farmers’ endemic sense of place. It is difficult to forecast, however, whether or not the family farm will remain a place of home and work into the future, particularly in an environment subject to mounting climatic and economic risks. The changing nature of family farming and its impact on farmers’ sense of place is discussed further in Chapter 8.

26 See Mallett (2004) for a comprehensive review of the literature detailing relationships between ‘family’ and ‘home.’

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Figure 14. Photos taken from participants’ living rooms showing the lack of physical separation between the home and the work environments on family farming properties. Source: Neville Ellis

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6.4.2 The psychology of the home-work tension It is perhaps an inevitable consequence of the blurring of the home and work environments that some participants found it difficult, if not impossible, to ‘switch off’ from the farm. Just as there tended to be very little physical separation between the home and work environments, participants also tended to experience very little psychological separation between them. As a consequence, particularly for male farmers, there was little opportunity to stop thinking about the farm:

Because you live and work on the farm there is no sort of … Half the time what we’re talking about at night has got to do with what’s happening out in the paddock or with the sheep or a business decision. There’s not that cut and dry ‘right, it’s five o’ clock or it’s six o’ clock, it’s knock-off - we’re in the house, forget about what’s happening out there or whatever’. It just doesn’t happen (JM, R2).

No, no, you never stop. I can be sitting here watching TV at night time, something will come and I’ll think ‘oh gee, I didn’t shut that gate out on such and such’ or ‘I’ve got to go and change the oil on the header in the morning so I’d better go to bed now.’ So you never switch off (CM, R2).

Due to the small sample size it is difficult to say with certainty why male participants tended to find it more difficult than female farmers to ‘switch off’ from the farm. However, it is likely that the difference between male and female farmers in this regard is probably attributable to differences in their perceived roles. Male farmers, without exception, identified themselves as ‘farmers’ and in all cases were primarily responsible for making farm management decisions. As a consequence, by living on the farm, there were very few opportunities for male farmers to disengage from this role. Female participants, on the other hand, tended to identify themselves in relation to their off-farm work or in relation to their role as a ‘farmer’s wife’. As a result, most regarded the home environment (and the family in particular) as their primary field of concern. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that the inability of male farmers to switch off from the farm had the potential to promote conflict between couples. As demonstrated below, the lack of physical separation between the home and work environments clearly fed into family tensions:

[…] when we moved here this was all big bush, and from the kitchen window you couldn’t see anything at all. The first thing we did was rip it out because we wanted to be able to see it. So, it’s funny that you say there is no separation because there is no separation, but we really wanted to be able to see. But, having said that, I also get

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very angry, because when Daniel is home he’s thinking about work and there is no time where he just comes home and can just be home, because he’s looking out the window - the shed’s just there - there is no time where he’s just being at home. So that does just frustrate me as well.

(Interviewer) That’s different for you?

Um, yeah, definitely. Because I’m probably focused more on what’s happening in the house and with the kids and wanting family time, whereas he’s constantly looking out thinking ‘I should be out doing something, I feel guilty being home not doing something’ (TM, R1).

Generally, there was a high degree of awareness amongst participants that a lack of physical separation between the house, sheds and paddocks could result in them or their partners not being able to mentally disengage from the farm. In response, this prompted some participants to adopt strategies to avoid the work environment from becoming ‘all- consuming’. For some, this involved mentally bracketing home and work roles. For instance, QY quoted below attempted to maintain a degree of separation between home and work by maintaining a clear work schedule. For him there was a clear difference between ‘home’ and ‘work’ activities on the farm which, unlike his father, allowed him to segment his days accordingly:

I don’t do any home jobs during 8am to 6pm […] I might grab some wheat or something for the chooks, but I don’t do any home jobs. Terry will spend an hour after lunch doing something in his yard not realising that he’s doing personal stuff and not farm stuff because he sees no difference (QY, R2).

Interestingly, QY’s father, when interviewed, not only acknowledged the potential for the work environment to overwhelm the home environment, he also took active steps during the construction of his house to avoid it from happening. For him, an important strategy that continues to allow him to disengage from farm work was to build the farm sheds in a position where they could not be seen from the house:

That’s the one thing we’ve done to keep the farm life separate from the house. Because you don’t want to […] its’ got to be separate from your sheds. Because if you’re working here and you’re working there and you come down here and talk to people […] he’s not distracted by: ‘shit, there is the bloody tractor, I had better fix it up’ you know?

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So you’re away from it: your mind might only be half here, but you can’t see it (TY, R2).

Other participants had also attempted to create a visual barrier between the home and work environments by building a garden or leaving patches of remnant bushland around the house. This would suggest different strategies can be employed to lessen the degree to which the work environment enters into the home environment. For farmers wishing to be able to ‘switch off’ from the farm, it may be that mentally segmenting the day into ‘home’ and ‘work’ times and ensuring that there is a degree of physical separation between both environments (either by building key infrastructure away from the house, or by planting a garden that obscures the sheds and paddocks from the living environment), will provide the most successful outcome. However, even with these strategies in place, given the all- hours nature of farm work, creating a clear separation may prove impossible. As one farmer explains:

At times I have considered building an office so that you’d walk out of home go to work, leave, come home, but it’s not very practical because it almost seems to be dealt with at all hours of the day and night. So, the phone’s going to be ringing or someone will be on the two-way or, you know … (CY, R1)

For the most part, participants considered the ability to see the farm from inside the home an important and desirable part of family farming. The lack of separation between the home and work environments was generally accepted as part of the farming way of life; and though strategies were employed by some to create a sense of separation, such strategies only ever seemed to achieve partial success. The lack of separation between these environments was also found to be important for understanding how climate change is impacting the mental health and wellbeing of family farmers who live and work on their own properties. The lack of the separation of the home-work environments will be considered further in the next chapter.

6.5 Place identity Place identity has been a central area of inquiry for environmental psychologists and humanistic geographers for at least the last forty years (Proshansky, 1978; Proshansky et al., 1983; Relph, 1976; Tuan, 1974). Though approaching this area of inquiry in substantially different ways, there is a sense amongst these scholars that place and identity are fundamentally related: place is thought to reflect the self, and the self is thought to encompass place. While there has been much research examining the relationship between

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place and identity in other contexts, little research has focused on this area of inquiry with regard to Australian family farmers. Of the limited research that has engaged with issues of identity in this context, place is rarely (if ever) regarded as a factor that may reflect, or contribute to, farmers’ sense of self (see, for example: Bryant, 1999; Bryant & Garnham, 2014). In response, this section examines how place and identity are conjoined for family farmers.

6.5.1 The farm: a reflection of the self Personal intentions, meanings, values and personality have the potential to become imbued within an environment through human actions that transform its physical appearance or its functions (Marcus, 2006; Proshansky et al., 1983). In this research, a similar conclusion can be drawn with regard to the relationship between family farmers and their farm environments. Several participants indicated that they had ‘put themselves’ into the farm, a term used typically by older male participants who had engaged in clearing activities to express what they felt to be an important aspect of their sense of place. For one new land farmer, there was evidence to suggest that the physical structure of his farming property reflected not only an aesthetic preference for natural bushland, but also his personal values regarding what farming is and should be:

I wanted to leave the bush [on the farm] because for me it aesthetically pleased me; that gives me a sense of wellbeing. I like the natural bush and I want it to be a part of our farm because it’s where we live and operate our business from. The bloke who’s just chasing money would just clear it fence to fence, because all he’s seeing is that he can make more money. So I just think it’s a bigger picture than just dollars in the bank (CS, R2).

In making decisions that impact upon the physical appearance of the farm, the farming property was perceived by participants to convey information about the personality or character of the individual farmer. In this way, the farming property may also serve to establish ones’ identity within the broader community. Participants often discussed the virtue of having a neat and tidy farm, which in turn was seen to reflect desirable personality traits within the farming family, such as hard work, dedication and care. In contrast, however, messy or run-down farms were seen to be a reflection of laziness, financial hardship, mental distress or an uncaring attitude:

Well you go on some farms and there’s rubbish everywhere and they’re untidy … you can see things aren’t in order; there’s no maintenance there. And other farms are just ...

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everything’s very t’s crossed and i’s dotted. And I think the person’s who’s really pretty casual in the way they approach anything is not going to have everything in place out in the farm (CS, R2).

If your paddocks are messy and the rocks aren’t picked up and the fences are down it shows that they’re either not managing to keep up with their farming or they’re depressed or, you know, there is something going on there (DY, R2).

[…] the way they portray themselves around their house and their shed is generally the way they farm. You can see if they’re an organised person or not an organised person I suppose (JM, R2).

Untidy, messy farm would reflect someone that doesn’t really care and doesn’t have much pride in themselves or something (VY, R2).

It is important to note that how farmers ultimately judge a farm to reflect positively or negatively upon the individual is, in part, constructed through a shared understanding of what ‘good’ farming is and what a ‘tidy’ farm should look like. This was made evident in discussion with a participant who was pursuing an entirely different farming system from that typically employed within the community and the broader region:

I’ve actually chucked aesthetics out because my neighbour who likes to have his paddocks squeaky clean could drive past my place and go ‘they’re not very good farmers because it doesn’t look like my paddock’ and get the completely wrong idea about it. When in my view, the paddock that’s bare with nothing growing on it to me looks like an absolute disaster: it looks like an environmental disaster. I look at it go ‘ugh I feel sorry for those microbes, they’re dying or they’re dormant’ […] So some people look at a ploughed paddock and go ‘that’s beautiful’. I look at that as a catastrophic event. Complete polar opposites (ML, R2).

Within the community there was a degree of scepticism, if not mistrust, levelled at this farmer and his controversial farming system which, when verbalised, often rested upon the appearance of the participant’s farming property. The appearance of weeds throughout the paddocks as well as the growth of crops in summer (a time when cropped land is typically covered by crop stubble) was appropriated by some community members as grounds to question the ability - and even the sanity - of the farmer in question. In contrast, as ML

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clearly illustrates above, physical indicators that typically denote ‘good farming’ can come to signify its opposite when viewed through the lens of a different farming philosophy. The physical appearance of the farm, and the way in which individuals appropriate it to make value judgements about the character of the individual farmer, therefore reflects conformity to a particular way of farming and its associated cultural scripts which are then drawn upon by individuals to determine who has ‘insider’ or ‘outsider’ status within the farming community. This is similar to the notion of ‘place identification’ described by Uzzell et al. (2002) in which individuals identify themselves or others in relation to social groups of a particular location. However, instead of defining one’s self and others in relation to a shared location, it appears that family farmers define themselves and others in relation to how the farming property is being managed and its appearance.

6.5.2 The self: a reflection of the farm In addition to being an outward expression of the self, places can also become integrated within the self-concept. It is useful at this point to reflect on an argument put forward by Malpas (1999; 2008) who suggests that place is both humanised and humanising.27 By this, Malpas argues places are not simply reflective of identity; they are also constitutive of it. The incorporation of place into one’s self is evident amongst various Indigenous cultures in which specific sites, topographical features, or plant and animal species endemic to a region are incorporated into the self-concept through totemic relationships, spiritual beliefs, or cultural obligations (Davis, 2009; Gammage, 2011; Myers, 1991; Rose, 1996). Rarely, however, have relationships between place and identity been regarded in this manner amongst non-Indigenous peoples.

In discussion with community members and key informants, there is evidence to suggest that the farm does indeed constitute an integral part of the self for some family farmers. For some older male participants who had either participated in land clearing activities and/or had generational ties to the farm, the farming property appeared to be an important, if not a central, component of their sense of self:

(interviewer) Is your sense of identity connected with the farm?

Absolutely. Because yeah, I’ve designed the clearing of this farm, I’ve created this farm from a block of bush from day one. So yeah I’m directly connected to it for that, for sure (CS, R2).

27 This term was first presented by poet Seamus Heaney (1984).

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Yeah. Well I’ve spent a majority of my life here, so yeah. It’s definitely a part of who you are (CY, R2).

I suppose it is us and it’s what we are and what we do … (CM, R2).

Oh yeah I guess it would be - that’s what we live for (CO, R2).

Phrases such as this ‘is what we live for’ and ‘it’s what we are’ would seem to confirm Malpas’ (1999; 2008) assertion that places do indeed have the potential to humanise, and that their power to do so is not limited to Indigenous peoples. If anything, some community members and key informants considered the relationship between farmers and their land to be similar to the emotional, psychological and spiritual connections Australian Aboriginals display towards Country:28

It’s almost an Aboriginal context: that the land owns them, not them own the land - and people haven’t disagreed with that. And even farmers haven’t disagreed with that (representative of Farming and Beyond).

Yeah, there is an emotional link. It’s like, I can sort of understand the Aboriginal sense of place eh? I kind of get it; I’m starting to understand their attachment to the land and the power that is in that. I mean I only understand a glimmer because I’m not Aboriginal. But even just being in Hopetoun, and there was a massacre of Aboriginals and horrible stuff like that, and I start to think about what was it like, and their emotional attachment that they had to that place and what it was like to have it taken away from them and stuff like that, which I don’t think I’d understand unless I was a farmer or married to a farmer (ML, R2).

[…] when you touch that attachment to land it’s not dissimilar, I guess, in the Aboriginal context with their connection (representative of Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

It may well be that Indigenous conceptions of land, Country and place have greater application to the understanding of some family farmers’ sense of place than concepts offered in Western thought. Western conceptions of belonging often imply ownership

28 The following description of Country is provided by Rose (1996, p. 7): “Country is not a generalised or undifferentiated type of place, such as one might indicate with terms like ‘spending the day in the country’ or ‘going up the country’. Rather, country is a living entity with a yesterday, today and tomorrow, with a consciousness, and a will toward life. Because of this richness, country is home, and peace; nourishment for body, mind and spirit; heart’s ease”.

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and/or control over place; when in fact it may be that an endemic sense of place can only develop when an individual feels it is they who belong to place (Malpas, 2008). Furthermore, scholars have lamented the lack of concepts in the English language that adequately reflect the emotional and psychological significance of place in the lives of those who maintain close connections to the Earth (Albrecht, 2012; MacFarlane, 2015). For this reason, the incorporation of Indigenous understandings of place and identity may aid future investigations of family farmers’ sense of place and the importance of the farm to farmers’ sense of self.

It is important to note, however, that not all participants felt as though the farm was a strong part of their sense of self identity. Even within the same family unit, the degree to which the farm could be said to be part of one’s identity was shown to vary significantly between family members:

I think it [the farm] is a strong part of who Gary is; I think it’s just about all of who Jeff is; Dot, I think it’s a small part of her, I think she has a strong identity as a nurse and as something external to the farm rather than the farm itself (SY, R2).

It is beyond the capacity of this research to provide a conclusive explanation for why this should be the case. However, it is likely that childhood experiences, perceived roles, and personal investment in a location (amongst other factors) influence the degree to which the farm shapes the personal identity of the individual family farmer. Researchers examining place identity and its development may also provide useful directions for researchers wishing to explore the reasons behind these differences (Antonsich, 2010; Dixon & Durrheim, 2000; Proshansky, 1978; Proshansky et al., 1983).

6.5.3 Summary From this discussion it is evident that, for some participants, the farm is tightly connected to their sense of self. In addition to being an outward representation of the self, the farm also appears to be a significant component of the self-concept for some family farmers. Interestingly, the manner in which some family farmers are connected mentally and emotionally to their farm prompted some participants to draw analogies with an Aboriginal sense of place. Western understandings of place and identity seem ill-equipped to handle the profound manner in which ‘farm’ and ‘farmer’ is consubstantiated for some family farmers, thereby requiring us to look towards other conceptual and cultural frameworks to aid understanding in this area. Following on from this discussion, and given that farmers’

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sense of self is informed by their farming properties, then, by way of argument, the degradation or loss of the farm must also undermine farmers’ sense of self. The degradation or loss of place and its impacts on farmers’ sense of self are explored further in Chapters 7 and 8.

6.6 Place and wellbeing So far in this chapter I have discussed some of the conditions that may be required for farmers to develop a strong endemic sense of place, how farmers’ negotiate the geography and psychology of the home-work tension, and how the farm is both an outward and inward reflection of the self. This discussion now considers what aspects of place influence farmers’ emotional and psychological states as well as their mental health and wellbeing. As discussed in Chapter 2, a growing body of research attests to the importance of a positive sense of place for the mental health and wellbeing of people who continue to live in a way that is dependent upon, and tightly connected to, their local environments. To ascertain whether participants derived a sense of wellbeing or health from their locality, participants were asked if there were any specific locations or sites on their farming properties that, for them, promoted positive emotions or a sense of wellbeing. Locations that invoked fond memories or were perceived to be aesthetically pleasing were cited as places that promoted desirable emotional states or feelings of wellness:

Well the sunsets are amazing up here. We’ve got the incredible views. Just spots with good memories I suppose. There is a nice break away that we often go to and just places that have good memories for me and the kids I suppose (DY, R1).

Well Daniel and I got engaged in a paddock when we were trying to burn it down (laughs). So every time we go to that paddock I always think about that. And we used to live on the other farm over there and I used to walk up the side of the paddock, and as I walked home I would look over this Lake and over this farm. So that was always really nice calming sort of feeling if I was stressed, just to go out and look over the Lake. So yeah, definitely spots like that everywhere. And on the old farm we used to have a favourite hill that we still go to now […] It’s all our favourite places (TM, R1).

[…] there’s one patch of salmon gums on the main farm; it’s just nice to go and drive through and to look at. We’ve got a picture of them at sunset at home and it’s just a nice tranquil spot within it all […] it’s just a place that gives you an outward smile or an inner smile (SY, R1).

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For the most part, however, when asked this question, participants would not identify a particular site, identifying instead the whole farm environment as a location that could promote a sense of wellbeing:

I do sit on the farm sometimes and feel really happy, just looking at the paddocks, the crops and the farm - just feel really content. It’s just a nice thing, I think, to just enjoy your farm. I like the bush on the farm, but I’d rather go out camping in the bush. I do certainly have a sense sometimes of being satisfied on the farm (WY, R1).

Just the whole area makes you feel good (TY, R1).

It’s that [good] feeling which usually comes when things are going right: having a good season, or having a good crop, which, you know, could be in any place on the farm, in any point of course. So it’s not … its’ the satisfaction that comes when things work (CY, R1).

Participants’ descriptions of the sense of wellness, contentment and solace they derive from the farm correspond closely to Tuan’s notion of topophilia. As discussed in Chapter 2, topophilia describes a ‘love of place’ which is expressed through feelings of joy, fondness, and wellness. Rather than a singular emotional experience, Tuan considered topophilia to encompass a range of positive emotions and feelings that vary in strength and that arise in relation to the memories and meanings a particular place invokes, or the aesthetic beauty it displays:

It is important to note, however, that farming environments are not static; rather, they are highly dynamic and subject to significant season change. From the brown of summer to the green of winter, broadacre farming landscapes throughout the Wheatbelt change in their appearance and their consistency in manner that is lock-step with the seasons. As described by DL below, the changing seasons and the transformation it brings to the farming landscapes of the Wheatbelt is a part of her aesthetic appreciation of place, and one that her father missed dearly when separated from his homelands:

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[…] very beautiful with changing seasons and changing times of day; [the] change from brown to green … My father was in the one of the islands during the war whose name escapes me, and he said when he came home he just loved brown paddocks. He said he just got tired of it being green all year round (DL, R3).

The seasonality of place and its relationship to personal mental health and wellbeing is an area of inquiry not well developed, though it is one that has particular relevance to farmers’ experience of place and their place-related mental health and wellbeing. Tuan (1974) considered farmers’ lives to be “harnessed to the great cycles of nature” (p. 26), implying that farmers’ daily experiences and life histories are not only embedded within place, they are also embedded within the daily, seasonal and longer-term rhythms and patterns of a place. Writing on the importance of place and its seasonal rhythms for human health and wellbeing, Albrecht (2011) extends Tuan’s account, writing: “[the] phenology of place has its correlates in the phenology of culture and the mind. Pattern and regularity in nature are reflected in pattern and regularity in all human activity. Our endemic sense of place, belonging and our existential well-being are vitally connected to the rhythms and patterns of our home environment” (p. 45-46).

Phenology is a branch of biological and ecological science that examines the seasonality and cyclicality of plant and animal life. Much in the same way that plant and animal flourishing is dependent upon stable seasonal weather conditions, a productive and profitable agriculture is also contingent upon the predictable unfolding of the seasons. As part of this phenology, it is also evident that farmers’ emotional states, as well as their wellbeing, are embedded within and contingent upon the seasonal unfolding of place. For instance, from discussions with farmers below, it is apparent that farmers’ experiences of topophilia are seasonally-dependent and experienced most strongly in relation to the arrival of seasonal rains:

At the right time, you feel so good. Fantastic! Beautiful! And you don’t mind going out in it and getting soaking wet and all the inconveniences that come with it [laughs]. You don’t want anybody complaining about a bit of rain! (BS, R2).

[…] if the sun is shining at the right time and the temperature is the right temperature for the right time life is much happier. If it’s a nice spring day, that mild low 20s with the sun shining, that’s lovely. If it’s winter time and it’s meant to be raining, that’s lovely. I don’t mind putting the

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washing through the drier and having the Chinese laundry- looking house if it’s weather appropriate for the season, then I run much happier (SY, R2).

You should see the pub rocking when it rains in April. In April, people stopped work and went to the pub to celebrate! They’ll all be staring out the windows saying ‘Wow! Look at that!’ It’s a really good feeling, that first rain and the smell. You can’t not be happy! (DY, R2).

In a profound sense, the coming of the rains, particularly after an extended period of dryness, not only has the potential to elicit positive emotional states in family farmers, but also to significantly benefit farmers’ physical and mental health and wellbeing. This is clear in examples offered by participants below who had observed the healing and regenerative effects of seasonal rainfall on farmers’ physical/mental health:

And you see, because Lisa is a nurse, she said to the doctor ‘it’s getting a bit dry, you’ll get a few farmers in. It’s a long dry spell, you’ll get a few farmers in because they’re all … their aches and pains are worse’ or whatever. And it’ll rain and they’ll say to the doctor ‘there is nothing wrong with me.’ It is a health issue I think (TY, R2).

[…] Bruce is always really positive and he started to get quite depressed. He wouldn’t admit that - he doesn’t believe in getting depressed, but he was. He wasn’t sleeping at night and really shocking he was: short tempered and … And then it rains and it’s just incredible! The whole town - you can just about see them bouncing along the street! All the businesses, everyone is happy and … it just gives everyone a whole lift (DY, R2).

According to Tuan (1974), topophilia is partly produced from the sense of joy that comes from a place displaying “animal health and vitality”. In a similar sense, seasonal rainfall can be thought of as bringing health and vitality to the entirety of the farming landscape - its’ people, plants, animals and ecology. As described by participants below, seasonal rainfall brings ‘life’ and ‘abundance’ to the farming landscape:

It’s like the release; it’s like the rain breaks something. I don’t know if there is a strong hold here or - I’m getting all spiritual again- but you know? What makes it rain? What doesn’t make it rain, you know? Is there a curse? Is there a blessing? How can we maintain the rain and just the blessing of the place? Because ultimately people come to a place that’s fruitful and abundant. We’re all for that aren’t

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we, farmers? We want to see abundance and great crops (ML, R2)

It’s awesome if it rains - rain is wonderful. It gets everyone excited. Everyone is excited by rain. It’s life isn’t it? Bringing life, or helping life (TY, R2).

It is important to note that the economic benefits of seasonal rain were rarely cited in this context. Whilst certainly the economic gains associated with seasonal rainfall have bearing on farmers’ positive emotional states and their broader sense of wellbeing, it is clear from participants’ statements in this section that, for the most part, the benefits of seasonal rainfall are perceived in relation to its impact on their own emotional and psychological states, community sentiment, and the health and vitality of their farmland. The relationship between place and wellbeing for farmers, then, goes beyond that which can be associated with purely economic outcomes, but extends to something deeper that connects the health of the landscape and the seasonality of place to the total health and wellbeing of farming families and their farm environments. These interconnections are explored further in the next chapter in relation to a changing climate and its impact on the health and vitality of family farmers and their farm environments.

6.7 Chapter summary and conclusions It is evident from the findings presented within this chapter that the farm is a complex geographical location imbued with various meanings and memories important for farmers’ sense of place and mental wellbeing. Findings indicate that the farm gains its emotional and psychological significance through the time farmers spend within its boundaries, the control they exert over the property, their private ownership of the land, and the degree to which they have personally invested hard work and time in developing or maintaining the farm. As a geographical entity, the farm defies simple conception as either a ‘home’ or a ‘work’ environment; instead, these environments blur physically and psychologically, contributing to farmers’ inability to ‘switch off’ from the farm when at home. The farm was also shown to be an important part of farmers’ identity, both as an outward extension of the self and as an inward-facing part of farmers’ personal identity. Moreover, the health and wellbeing of farming families was found to be connected to the total health and vitality of the farming environment, inclusive of the farming landscape and the seasonal rhythms and patterns of place.

These findings highlight the non-economic value as well as the emotional and psychological significance of the farm for farming families in the Wheatbelt. As a place of home, a source

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of identity, and a wellspring of personal health and wellbeing, the farm contains value that transcends that which can be captured by economic metrics of worth. While these findings are important at an individual-level of analysis, given the relatively homogenous socio- ecological structure of the Wheatbelt, the findings presented here are argued to have relevance beyond their localised contexts. Family farmers currently own and operate approximately nine million hectares throughout the Wheatbelt. When considered at a regional scale of analysis, these findings suggest that the Wheatbelt is more than simply an economic region, but rather a mosaic of places important for family farmers’ emotional and psychological wellbeing. It is because of this I consider the Wheatbelt to be an eco-cultural landscape (Rapport & Maffi, 2011) consisting of people and places whose total health and vitality is contingent upon the predictable and stable patterning of the local climate and the ‘health’ of its landscapes.

Drawing on themes developed here, the next chapter examines farmers’ lived experiences of climate change. Specifically, I explore farmers’ observations and understandings of climate change in their local places, and examine how the climate-driven degradation of their homelands is impacting their sense of place and their place-related mental health and wellbeing.

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Chapter 7: Climate change and place- based distress ______

7.1 Introduction From the findings presented in the previous chapter, it is clear that family farmers who continue to own and live upon the land they work have a strong sense of place towards their respective farms. While it may be that all of us possess an innate capacity to love the places in which we live and grow (Sampson, 2012), family farmers display particularly strong emotional and psychological relationships to their farmlands. This is most likely due to their personal, familial and cultural embeddedness within their farmlands and their dependence upon them for their lifestyles and livelihoods. In addition, unlike urban dwellers who may harbour deep attachments to built environments, farmers’ relationships to place are fundamentally tied to the agricultural landscape, the natural environment, and the seasonal rhythms of weather and place.

Seasonal patterns of weather are vital for the development of an agri-culture. Indeed, it is the ability to match the phenology of crops, pastures and animals to local characteristics of rain, sun, land and soil that determine the success of the individual farmer and the prosperity of entire agricultural regions. At a personal level, however, it is also clear from findings presented in the previous chapter that seasonal conditions strongly influence the health and wellbeing of family farmers. Topophilia and feelings of wellness were shown to be derived from the arrival of seasonal rains and the health and vitality it brings to farmers’ homelands. In addition, it was demonstrated that farmers’ sense of personal identity is, to a degree, ontologically rooted in the farm environment and therefore, by way of argument, vitally connected to the condition of the farm and to seasonal patterns of weather and place. On the basis of these findings, it was concluded that the health and wellbeing of family farmers is inherently connected to the total health of the farming environment, inclusive of its landscapes, animals, weather and climate.

In an era of rapid and worsening anthropogenic global warming, however, historical patterns of climate are eroding and being replaced by a new era of seasonal uncertainty. While this phenomenon is well established as meteorological fact in the Wheatbelt, little is known about farmers’ lived experiences of climate change, or the way it may be impacting personal relationships between people and place. In response, this chapter examines these

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themes with the specific aim of understanding how recent climatic changes are impacting farmers’ place-related mental health and wellbeing.

The chapter begins by documenting farmers’ observations and understandings of climate change, before proceeding to explore how farmers’ relationships to place have been affected by these perceived climatic changes. The latter aim involves exploring how farmers’ emotional and psychological relationships to the weather and to the farm environment have been altered by recent climate change, and to what extent climate change is producing ‘place-based distress’ amongst impacted family farmers. Elements of Albrecht’s psychoterratic typology (Albrecht, 2005, 2011, 2012; Albrecht et al., 2007) are employed here to help conceptualise farmers’ experiences and emotional/psychological responses to a climate-changed environment (also see Table 1). As discussed previously in Chapter 2, the psychoterratic typology was developed to give expression to psychological and emotional responses to perceived positive and negative changes in one’s home environment (Albrecht, 2011). The typology is argued here to have synergies with more established place-related concepts such as place attachment, place identity and place dependence, which are also employed here where appropriate. As with the previous chapter, the following discussion is informed primarily by data gathered from interviews conducted with community member participants. Data collected from key informants and various secondary sources are also used to support findings where appropriate.

7.2 Observations of a changing climate Climate change is likely to most strongly impact upon the mental health and wellbeing of the individual if it is also observed by the individual. It is for this reason that examining participants’ observations of a changing climate is a necessary prerequisite for understanding how it may be impacting their emotional and psychological wellbeing. This section examines participants’ understandings of historical climate baselines for their local region, before moving on to explore how local climatic conditions have deviated from such baselines for over recent years. This section then concludes by exploring how farmers reconcile their observations of a changing climate with their beliefs regarding the operation of the local climate system.

7.2.1 Historical baselines To understand farmers’ experiences of a changing climate, it is first necessary to examine what sort of seasonal conditions farmers consider to be representative of the historical climate baseline for their own localities. Such a baseline provides a reference point from

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which recent climate observations can be compared and contrasted. It is in this process that climate change may be discerned. Participants were asked to describe the type and timing of seasonal weather conditions they considered to be historically normal for the Newdegate region. Interestingly, there was hesitancy to provide such an account. Participants tended to foreshadow their responses by stating that a degree of seasonal variability was to be expected in Newdegate. Given Newdegate’s location some 400 kilometres inland from the western coastline, seasonal variability (both within and across years) was seen as a fact of life and one that had to be accommodated into farmers’ management plans. As such, participants’ accounts of what constituted a ‘normal’ season were tentative and, for some, the idea of a ‘normal season’ was said not to exist.

Because many participants took issue with the notion of a ‘normal’ season, participants were asked instead to reflect upon the sorts of conditions they considered to be representative of an historically ‘average’ season for the Newdegate region. When reframed in this way, participants’ responses were highly consistent and can be described as follows.

• The first rains of the season (known as the ‘opening break’) would arrive in mid-to- late May. Several participants cited the 18th to the 23rd of May as the historical ‘start date’ for the agricultural season. Though this was the historical average, participants also recalled a degree of variability in the start date, with opening breaks sometimes arriving as late as June.

• Follow-up rains would then arrive frequently throughout the winter months. Cold fronts would bring rain every ten to fourteen days throughout the winter growing season, delivering, on average, an inch (25mm) of rain during each event. Rainfall would be geographically widespread, ensuring farmers throughout the Newdegate area and the adjacent regions would receive a similar amount of rainfall.

• Spring (particularly September and early October) would be a fickle time of year, with frost and dryness seen as potential though not persistent sources of risk to crop development. A ‘finishing rain’ would arrive more often than not in the first week of October, ensuring adequate soil moisture for the ‘grain-fill’ period.

• Rainfall would then ease in late October before diminishing almost entirely over the summer months. Isolated thunderstorms were not uncommon throughout the summer, particularly after the New Year. Because of the region’s propensity to

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receive summer thunderstorms, Newdegate was said to be slightly wetter over summer than areas to the north and west.

On the basis of these historical averages, it was generally agreed that Newdegate was an historically ‘safe’ and ‘reliable’ agriculture region. In this context, ‘safe’ is equated to the consistency and predictability of seasonal weather conditions: the more predictable and consistent the weather, the safer the region. Although not considered as safe as regions located further to the west, participants nevertheless regarded Newdegate as an area historically conducive to consistent and profitable agricultural production.

7.2.2 Observations All participants agreed that recent seasonal conditions had deviated from the perceived historical average. Most considered the changes to have begun sometime during the late 1990s or early 2000s. After disastrous frost events in 1998 and 1999, participants were then confronted with a string of poor seasons in the early 2000s. Frosts, droughts, late opening breaks, reduced winter precipitation, a lack of finishing rains and storms during harvest punctuated the period 2000-2003. Such problems, amongst others, would become pervasive throughout the decade.29 The following section details participants’ observations of changing climatic conditions grouped in four themes: rainfall, temperature, seasonal variability and regional ‘safety’.

7.2.2.1 Rainfall The majority of participants’ observations of recent climate change concerned changes in the timing and distribution of seasonal rainfall. It is perhaps unsurprising that rainfall would feature so heavily in farmers’ observations of climate change, given its importance for the productivity and profitability of rainfed agricultural systems and the degree to which winter rainfall has diminished throughout the Wheatbelt region. There was unanimous agreement amongst participants that the local climate had become drier through the 2000s and that winter rainfall was less consistent than it had been in previous decades. Participants also observed various other changes to seasonal rainfall patterns, which included:

• an increased frequency of ‘false breaks’;

• a weakening of the ‘opening break’;

• a reduction in the amount and consistency of winter follow-up rains;

29 For an overview of seasonal conditions in Newdegate throughout the 2000s, see seasonal commentary provided by a Newdegate resident in Table 5, Chapter 5.

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• drier spring conditions and reductions in the amount and likelihood of finishing rains; and

• an increased prevalence of thunderstorm activity throughout summer, with a greater likelihood of rainfall during harvest.

When taken together, participants spoke of the last ten to fifteen agricultural seasons as being both ‘drier’ and ‘tighter’ than those experienced in previous decades. Such was the extent to which growing season rainfall had been observed to diminish over recent years, participants indicated that it would no longer be possible to grow crops using traditional agronomic techniques:

You see the thing is if we were still farming like we were in the 1970s a lot of these years you wouldn’t have even got a crop in the ground (HS, R2).

Participants generally attributed observed changes in winter rainfall to a weakening of winter storm fronts. Cold fronts are bands of low pressure that move in an easterly direction, bringing rainfall to the region throughout the growing season months (May to October). As described previously, cold fronts deliver a majority of the regions’ growing season winter rainfall. Although continuing to arrive at the same time of year, there was a sense amongst participants that winter frontal systems had weakened significantly through the 2000s:

You’d get a nice season break and you’d go and rip up and work back and then seed and it would seem to stay wet the whole time, whereas now we don’t seem to have that reliable general season break, really. We get these sort of ... we rely on cyclones to get anything and we just haven’t been getting the normal frontal systems. Whenever they say it is a ‘strong front’ we get strong wind and no rain with it so … Definitely seems to be a weather change for sure, and it just isn’t as predictable and reliable as what it was growing up (TM, R1).

We expect rain, but we’re not getting the rain, we’re getting showers. One time you’d get good rains; and when I say good rains [I mean] an inch of rain, and just about every ten days. But now it’s only a matter of millimetres. And some cases it’s only 3, 4, 5 mls. Every now and then you’ll get a 15 or a 20 [millimetre rain] but it doesn’t rain like it used to back in the 60’s and 70’s or even the 80’s. We had a good run from about 1986 to about 1998 where all we did was put the crop in and come back and harvest it. It

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just rained and we grew a crop. And after we got the frost in 98, things have gone a little bit haywire. It’s definitely changed (CM, R2).

As a result of weakening cold frontal systems, several participants also noted that winter rainfall had become more ‘patchy’ through the 2000s. Whereas cold fronts were said to have once delivered consistent rain throughout the region, participants observed that rainfall now occurred as a series of ‘isolated showers’. As result, participants stated that there was now potential for large rainfall discrepancies to occur over a relatively small geographical area:

Since the year 2000, probably prior to that, the season … When there’s a rain in the district now it doesn’t appear to be as broad a rain as it once was. Once upon a time, I’d get a rain and a guy thirty kilometres north of town they’d have a similar amount of rain - but not anymore. It can vary radically from farm to farm, and within a kilometre or five kilometres it can be quite different (CS, R1).

Well just that when I was a kid you saw those fronts would come in, and then as you got older … even being here, the fronts would come in and they would come right across the State sort of thing. But they don’t seem to come in like that now […] Probably when we first married, if Dad at Badgingarra got rain we knew sort of within ‘x’ amount of hours or half a day the rain would come through - we’d all get it. Now just pockets sort of keep getting it. It’s not like a proper front, and even patchy to the point where one person on one farm will get it and someone over the road doesn’t get it, which is not really like a proper front coming through, really. It’s more thunderstorm stuff […] Well I don’t know, when I grew up I didn’t think thunderstorms were necessarily part of the winter pattern (DS, R1).

When compared against meteorological records, participants’ observations are highly consistent with observed regional and local trends. First, there is clear evidence of a pervasive autumn and winter drying trend both regionally across southwest Western Australia and locally within the Newdegate region. Appendix 9 depicts seasonal rainfall trends at a regional scale for the period 1970/71 to 2014/15. In line with IOCI (2012) reports, there has been a clear decrease in total rainfall across autumn, winter and spring months, with the greatest reduction in total rainfall occurring in the winter period. Summer rainfall has increased slightly across most of the Wheatbelt region, though some summer drying has occurred in central and central-south areas. These regional changes in total rainfall are mirrored at a local scale as shown in Appendix 10 which depicts a winter drying

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trend and a slight increase in summer rainfall in the Newdegate region in the period 1981- 2010 as compared with the period 1961-1990.

As discussed previously in Chapter 5, the early winter drying trend has not occurred linearly, but rather as a stepwise function. Figure 8 as presented by the IOCI (2012) shows the early winter drying trend both dramatically intensified and expanded in the period 2000-2008 as compared with the period 1969-1999. The stepwise nature of the winter drying trend is reinforced by Perth stream flow data presented in Appendix 11 which clearly demonstrates a non-linear drying trend. Again, this regional trend is mirrored at a local level in Figure 2, which demonstrates an attendant decrease in winter rainfall (particularly in the early winter months) in the period 2000-2012 as compared with the 1923-1999 average. It is this abrupt reduction in early winter rainfall in this period that most likely explains participants’ observations of a reduction in seasonal rainfall at this time.

Participants’ observations of a weakening in winter storm fronts, particularly from 2000 onwards, is supported by findings from the IOCI (2012) which show the relative strength of regional cold fronts have diminished over the same period. The IOCI attribute this trend to the south-ward shift of the Hadley Cell and the amplification of the Southern Annular mode (see Chapter 5 for details). However, of particular interest is participants’ account of the shift from ‘general rains’ to ‘isolated showers’. Although not described within formal meteorological records, the increased spatial heterogeneity of seasonal rainfall is a phenomenon likely to have occurred as a consequence of the weakening of winter frontal systems. As such, participants’ observations of recent rainfall trends shed new light on how climate change is disrupting seasonal weather patterns in the Wheatbelt at a highly localised scale.

7.2.2.2 Temperature Participants’ observations of temperature change mostly related to the prevalence and timing of frosts. Participants indicated that frost risk had increased during the 2000s; however, many participants were confused as to whether or not frost conditions had actually become more common, or if simply their sensitivity to frost had increased as a consequence of the different agricultural practices being employed to mitigate risks associated with the drying winter growing season:

Some of the people claimed that frost does not necessarily [result] so much from the weather but more from the fact

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that people get anxious. They’re planting their crops earlier, so they are maturing earlier when the frosts are still around. Whereas, one time you would never be planting that early, but then you didn’t need to because you seemed to have better seasons with good finishes (HS, R2).

Meteorological evidence clearly demonstrates an increased prevalence of September frosts in the central Wheatbelt (see Chapter 4), and it was for this reason that participants’ confusion with regard to their observations were initially surprising. However, upon closer inspection, there are several reasons why such confusion should exist. First, unlike rainfall which is readily measurable by farmers, frost is difficult to measure without specialised equipment. Second, unless confronted with a ‘stem frost’ (a type of frost that freezes the stem, thereby killing the plant), frost events are often imperceptible and therefore go unnoticed. Third, changing agronomic practices have inadvertently placed crops at higher frost risk.30 And fourth, advances in machinery have seen dramatic declines in the time taken to sow crops, thereby placing a larger percentage of the total crop at risk of frost during their spring flowering. Participants’ experiences of frost are therefore mediated through various mechanisms (i.e. agronomy, technology, machinery and the nature of frost) which serve to obscure their perceptions of the frost risk trend.

Despite the persistent warming trend and the increasingly intense nature of regional heatwave events (see IOCI, 2012), very few of participants’ observations of climate change related to warming temperatures. Only two older male participants suggested temperatures had warmed over recent years:

I think the sun’s warmer, it definitely burns. It’s not unbearable; I can get out of it. During the summer, I get up in the morning go and do a bit and when it gets too hot I knock off and go back after later in the day just to stay out of the sun. You know, if you work in a shed you don’t notice it; but if you’ve got a job outside, well … and the flies - give you the whoops (CM, R2).

30 As explained by a representative of Australian Export Grains Innovation Centre, throughout the 2000s, many farmers had taken to sowing their crops earlier in the season in order to counteract the detrimental impact of dry winter conditions. However, in the push to sow crops earlier in the season, the ‘flowering window’ came to coincide with the September frost risk period. Crops are particularly vulnerable to frost risk when in flower, and to avoid having their crops come into flower during this period of high frost risk, farmers took to planting even longer-duration cultivars. However, this strategy was undermined by warming winter temperatures which sped up crop development, thereby bringing the flowering window back in line with the September frost risk period. It is with a sense of irony that warmer temperatures have contributed to farmers’ heightened exposure and vulnerability to frost risk.

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Yeah, it feels to me … and even the climate around is warmer and all that stuff. A little bit warmer, because it used to be very cold here once […] everyone used to have those Russian hats on and gloves on. And even walking around, everyone had those Russian hats on. And, you know, we wear beanies these days. The Russian hats were warmer than a beanie (TW, R2).

Since the 1950s, average temperatures throughout the Wheatbelt have risen by 0.8°C (IOCI, 2012). Although climatologically significant, this is hardly a perceptible difference, particularly as farmers’ understandings of long-term climate averages were found in this research to be informed by personal experience more so than by meteorological records. It is perhaps for this same reason that participants did not discuss heatwave trends, despite meteorological evidence showing an increased intensity and frequency of heatwave events over inland south-west Western Australia over the last half century (IOCI, 2012).

7.2.2.3 Seasonal variability In combination with, or as a result of, observations of changing rainfall patterns and increased frost risk, participants also remarked that they had observed an increase in seasonal variability. In contrast to the 1990s, which were remembered as a decade of consistent and favourable seasons, conditions throughout the 2000s were observed to be less predictable during all parts of the year and less consistent from one year to the next:

I think that when you’re looking at the 1990s and you had your good and bad years but it’s fairly consistent, you think … you feel quite confident. But yes, I would have thought that more recently it’s becoming more variable, like we just don’t know one year to the next what we’re going to get (BS, R2).

Participants’ observations of increased seasonal variability are corroborated by a dramatic increase in wheat yield variability throughout the same period. As discussed in Chapter 4, seasonal conditions are the primary determinant of wheat yield, and therefore yield trends provide a good indication of previous growing season conditions. In the period 1994-2009 as compared with the period 1982-2000, wheat yield variance increased by 120 percent or more in some areas, with the Newdegate region experiencing a 60 to 80 percent increase in wheat yield variability at this time (Stephens et al., 2011). Participants’ experiences of heightened season variance are therefore justified when assessed against regional wheat yield trends.

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7.2.2.4 ‘Safety’ and ‘marginality’ Considering that seasonal weather conditions are tightly coupled with agricultural productivity and profitability, it is perhaps not surprising to find that some participants had lost confidence in Newdegate as a ‘safe’ agricultural region. Some considered Newdegate to have become a less ‘safe’ and more ‘marginal’ agricultural region throughout the 2000s:

[…] during the 1990s, you know, everyone was [safe] … there were very good cropping years around here, so big broadacres were making lots of money you know? And so for the cost of the land and that sort of business, the return on invested capital here was pretty good relative to a lot of other places in the State. But since the year 2000 that’s probably changed again. So I would say now it would be considered, you know, not marginal like the north-eastern Wheatbelt, but not as safe and secure (CS, R2).

Oh I think everyone has been feeling very threatened by the drier years and by frost, and it’s just been exacerbated by low prices and high input costs and the squeeze - the financial pressure we’re under (DL, R2).

I think it has [become less ‘safe’]. I’m not sure whether the local farmers would agree with that; I think they still feel that it’s supposed to be a safe area. But when you start with a bit of the literature, they’re certainly looking at the eastern fringes, so perhaps we might be looking more at Lake King and Varley, but it’s coming a bit more close to home … (BS, R2).

Again, looking at historical wheat yield trends for the region, there is justification for these concerns. As discussed in Chapter 4, in the period 2002 to 2012 only three out of twelve seasons delivered wheat yields above the historical average (Kingwell et al., 2013). Negatively impacted by frost and extreme seasonal variability, wheat yield trends in the Newdegate-Lake Grace region stalled through the same period. Although the 2013-14 and 2014-15 seasons delivered average to above-average yields, these seasons have occurred against a backdrop of sustained poor production years. This suggests that the relative safety of Newdegate, as a favourable and consistent wheat producing area, declined in the 2000s relative to previous decades. It is important to note that despite these trends, some participants continued to believe Newdegate was a safe agricultural area at the time of the interview series, and believed that Newdegate would continue to be a safe agricultural region into the future. As such, not all community members felt as though recent patterns of observed climate change had altered the relative safety or marginality of Newdegate.

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However, this did not preclude these participants from experiencing feelings of climate- induced place-based distress described later in the chapter.

As will be discussed further in Chapter 8, regional climate models predict that seasonal conditions will become increasingly inimical for broadacre agriculture production into the future. Therefore, there is a clear discrepancy between some farmers’ predictions of future weather and those produced by climate models. To explain why there might be such a discrepancy, participants’ climate beliefs are examined in the next section.

7.2.3 Reconciling observations with beliefs Overall, there seemed to be little consensus amongst participants regarding the cause of the changes they had observed in their local climate. As one participant explained, everyone seemed to have a different opinion:

I don’t think that there’s much community justification for what has happened. I don’t think there is a strong section of society saying it’s God’s will or God’s way, or another strong section saying it’s el Niño or la Niña, like a weather/climate change. My take on it is a general consensus - ‘it is what it is’ - and rather than necessarily try to read too much into it one way or the other, it’s just surviving it and hoping you can do it again next year and get a better result. That would be my take on it.

(interviewer) So you’re saying there is no community consensus […]?

There are some farmers out here who do have a strong religious basis. And it’s not just farming or weather that they put their hand in, or their faith in God. But then, there is no one strong section out here either saying it’s all climate change and it’s all this. There is that mix of flavours and everyone I suppose has their own reason for whatever (SY, R2).

It is interesting from SY’s comments above that individuals may simply accept that the climate has changed without need to find an explanation. For her, farmers and local community members alike tended to focus on simply ‘surviving’ and hoping that conditions remained in a state that afforded profitable farming. In this, there appears to be a sense of fatalism: ‘what will be, will be’.

Though individuals may hold their own climate beliefs, after speaking with a range of farmers it became clear that two theories of climate change were commonly held. First,

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many believed recent climatic changes to be the result of land clearing activities. Large scale land clearing activities conducted east of Newdegate throughout the 1970s and 1980s are thought by some to have caused reductions in winter rainfall over recent years. As the following participant explains, trees are thought to attract rain-bearing cold fronts; and by clearing the landscape of its trees, the landscape is thought to have lost its ability to draw frontal systems from the coast further inland:

[…] my favourite of the crazy theories is during say the 70s and 80s Newdegate was a very cruisy area to farm and more land was released east of us still, and it was cleared. Trees are high percentage water and it’s like a rubber band theory […] the fronts hitting the west coast would still be attracted to or drawn through the Wheatbelt by the State forest out east. And the further the State forest got back it’s like stretching the rubber band - the draw wasn’t as strong. And it finally got to not quite the breaking point - because a strong front still travels through quite well - but those weaker 5mil fronts … you know, that’s what people say. We still get the big 20mil fronts, we just don’t get as many of the 5mil and 10mil fronts. Everyone will talk about ‘they [cold fronts] drop off and they don’t even push over Albany Highway as strong as they used to.’ And areas that we always considered quite safe - areas like Narrogin and that - have started to experience variability, and that’s why they were strong areas because they never had variability: it was either wet or too wet (QY, R2).

Although QY describes the land clearing hypothesis as a ‘crazy theory’, it is one that has some basis in meteorological theory and observation. Various studies have examined how different types of land cover impact micro-climatic processes in the Wheatbelt (e.g. Andrich & Imberger, 2013; Kala, Lyons, & Nair, 2010; Nair, Wu, Lyons, Pielke Sr., & Hacker, 2011). Broadly summarised, these studies suggest that the removal of native vegetation and its replacement with shallow-rooted annual crops also remove the conditions required for localised cloud formation, and may therefore contribute to the observed decline in winter- season rainfall. However, how the clearing hypothesis accounts for the intensification and expansion of the winter drying trend over the last ten to fifteen years, particularly as a moratorium on land clearing was introduced in the late 1980s, is not clear.

Second, recent climatic changes were also explained as part of a natural cycle. Participants who understood the climate to operate in this manner believed the climate naturally cycled through periods of sustained dryness and wetness. Recent observations of dryness and increased variability were assumed to be temporary and naturally produced:

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(interviewer) Do you think there is any reason why the weather in the last four or five years has been a bit different to how it has been previously?

Not really, I think it’s just going through a cycle. That’s what I really think (NL, R2).

The theory of ‘natural cycles’ is prominent amongst the Australian public. As Connor and Higginbotham (2013) found in a large survey exploring climate beliefs amongst residents of the Hunter Valley in New South Wales, Australia, just over 18 percent professed a belief in the notion of natural cycles. Commenting on this finding, the authors remarked “the resilience of natural cycles thinking in the Hunter Valley can be seen historically as an adaptive response to the vicissitudes and extremes of the weather in settler descendant communities that were largely rural food producers until the middle of the twentieth century” (p. 7). This observation is likely to hold a degree of truth in relation to the participants in this study who, in their time living and working in the Newdegate region, have also experienced seasonal variability as well as various extreme weather events. Similarly, a recent study by Kuehne (2014) found similar climate beliefs amongst farmers in the South Australian Riverland, suggesting the theory of natural cycles may be particularly prevalent in Australia’s farming regions.

In contrast to participants in Connor and Higginbotham’s (2014) study who held the theory of natural cycles very strongly, there was evidence to suggest that the highly variable and mostly adverse climatic conditions experienced by participants over the last ten to fifteen years had undermined their confidence in the theory of natural cycles. As the quotes below depict, there was a sense that the current period of dryness had gone on too long to constitute a ‘normal’ cycle:

Yeah, it’s doesn’t seem to rain as much as it used to. It’s dry … we keep saying that it’s a cycle but I’m beginning to think the cycle is going on a bit long now. They used to say you get a ten year cycle - you get ten wet years and ten dry years. But since about 1998 it’s been a bit higgledy piggledy trying to predict what it is. I do think it is getting drier unfortunately (CM, R1).

I think that a lot of it probably does go in cycles - but it’s feeling like a fairly long cycle. And I even actually think that probably the last couple of years we’ve just always remained fairly positive, but probably in the last twelve months to two years that perhaps hasn’t seemed … it is a concern (DS, R1).

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Despite some losing faith in this theory, anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions were rarely cited by participants as a possible cause of observed climate change trends. Indeed, there is evidence to suggest that Australian farmers tend to be more sceptical and uncertain about the notion of anthropogenic climate change than the broader Australian public (Evans, Storer, & Wardell-Johnson, 2011; Wheeler, Zuo, & Bjornlund, 2013). However, in this study, participants expressed uncertainty more so than scepticism about anthropogenic climate change and its relationship to their observations of changed seasonal conditions. Many openly admitted to not knowing enough about the subject to have an informed opinion, whereas others felt confused by what they had heard in the media. However, it may also be that the idea of continuing climate change is (for some) a notion too distressing to accept. As WY explains below, the notion that poor seasonal conditions would continue into the future is cause for great personal concern and anguish. It is for this reason that WY chooses not to believe in human-caused climate change:

I’d like to think that we’re just in a bit of a dry period at the moment but I’ve got no idea what’s in store really. You listen to all the critics and then you listen to the people that reckon that the environmental hasn’t changed and that … I’d like to think we’re just in a bit of a cycle at the moment and we’re going to move out of that and start getting back to normal years again. But um ... if it carries on the way it has been in the last, say, five years, I think that really Newdegate is probably going to be a, well, I don’t know - I think it would be close to being an unviable farming area if it carries on the way it has been. People are just surviving on a bit of stored funds and stuff like that and just treading water. But if it doesn’t - if things don’t come good it’s going to be looking like it might be an area that is just not viable.

(interviewer) That’s a pretty serious state of affairs?

Yeah, it is. That’s why I can’t believe the environmental changes are just here and this is how it’s going to be because I don’t think, I don’t think it is. I think we’re just in a dry phase and it’s going to come out of it hopefully (WY, R1).

For WY, adherence to the theory of natural cycles provided both a degree of reassurance and hope for the future. Previous research conducted amongst farmers and non-farmers alike has shown individuals may actively choose to deny the possibility of anthropogenic climate change for the purposes of protecting themselves from emotional damage or to

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retain a sense of hope for the future (Kuehne, 2014; Norgaard, 2006).31 Messages about future climate change therefore need to be framed carefully. If not communicated in a way that is sensitive to farmers’ fears and concerns, or in a manner that leaves little room for hope for a better tomorrow, there is a risk that farmers will either become dogmatic in their disbelief in human-caused climate change, or that an overwhelming sense of despair may ensue.

7.2.4 Summary and conclusions It is evident from this discussion that participants situated in the Newdegate region have witnessed significant changes in their local climate over the last ten to fifteen years. Dryness, increased frost risk, and heightened seasonal variance underpinned participants’ observations of climate change. As a result of these changes, some felt that Newdegate has become less ‘safe’ and more ‘marginal’ over recent years. Although participants’ observations are mostly commensurate with meteorological records of regional climate change, participants expressed a range of beliefs about the driving forces behind these changes. Amongst the range of climate beliefs professed by participants ‘land clearing’ and ‘natural cycles’ were the two most commonly cited theories thought to underlie their observations of recent climate change. Though many seemed to draw upon the theory of natural cycles to inform their view of future climate trends, it was also evident that prolonged exposure to chronic winter dryness and extreme seasonal variability had undermined the faith some participants placed in this theory. Despite this, farmers’ belief in future climate patterns continued to be informed by this belief system, though in an uncertain manner.

From the findings presented here it is clear that anthropogenic climate change and its current and future impacts on the Wheatbelt need to be better communicated to farmers. Such a task is of particular importance if individual family farmers, and family farming more generally, are to remain resilient in the face of future climate change. There is evidence to suggest that climate beliefs influence farmers’ preparedness to engage in adaptive strategies to mitigate climate-change risks (Buys, Miller, & van Megen, 2012; Kuehne, 2014). Though farmers in the Wheatbelt have been adapting, either consciously or unconsciously, in an incremental fashion to recent patterns of climate change (e.g. Kingwell

31 Though beyond the limits of this discussion, it is important to note that research has demonstrated personal climate beliefs also tend to be mediated by various political and psychological factors (e.g. Clayton et al., 2015; Leviston, Price, & Bishop, 2014; McCright & Dunlap, 2011). The desire to protect oneself from emotional trauma is therefore one among many possible reasons that may explain participants’ beliefs about the climate.

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et al., 2013), there is a possibility that future climate change risks will exceed that which can be mitigated by incremental adaptation alone. Indeed, there is an emerging consensus amongst agricultural experts that some agricultural regions will have to undergo ‘transformational adaptation’32 in order to navigate the risks imposed by future climate change (e.g. Marshall et al., 2013a; Marshall et al., 2012; Rickards & Howden, 2012). Farmers, along with industry and government, will therefore be required to develop strategic long-term approaches to the task of adapting agriculture to a rapidly changing climate. However, farmers’ uncertainty and/or scepticism regarding the science of anthropogenic climate change may undermine such efforts. As such, participants’ current belief systems - though internally coherent and understandable given their previous experiences - are likely to be maladaptive in the face of future climate change. Recent psychological reviews have concluded that an understanding of individual psychology, as well as group values, hopes and aspirations, may aid the communication of climate change risks to vulnerable populations (Berry & Peel, 2015; Clayton et al., 2015). Evidently, efforts to communicate the risks associated with a changing climate to Australian farmers could benefit from such an approach.

Now that farmers’ observations and understandings of regional climate change have been documented, the remainder of this chapter examines farmers’ emotional and psychological responses to a changing climate and its negative effects on their sense of place and mental wellbeing.

7.3 Meteoranxiety: the worry about the weather As the pace and scale of human-caused environmental degradation intensifies in the twenty-first century, scholars have noted an attendant increase in individuals’ worry about the environment (Clayton, Manning, & Hodge, 2014). In response, the term ‘ecoanxiety’ was developed by Albrecht (2011; 2012) and others (e.g. Leff, 1990, August 5) to describe the anxiety felt by some people with regard to the environment and its degradation, as well as the sheer scale and complexity of the environmental challenges faced in the twenty-first century. Over recent years, ecoanxiety has gained increasingly widespread media attention (see, for example Dickinson, 2008, April 20; Miller, 2013, January 29; Ropeik, 2012, February 26). In the scholarly literature, however, ecoanxiety remains a concept in need of further development and empirical scrutiny.

32 See Section 8.3 for more on ‘transformational adaptation’ and its applicability to this case study.

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As it stands, ecoanxiety is a broad term that encompasses a range of anxieties and worries stemming from various ‘types’ of environmental problems. Just as there is a family of phobias, each produced by a specific object or situation, it is my contention that there exists a family of ‘ecoanxieties’, each elicited by a different form of negatively perceived environmental change. In this research, participants reported experiencing what could be termed ‘meteoranxiety’: a specific form of ecoanxiety that describes a state of persistent worry about the weather. Meteoranxiety, as a specific emotional condition, is described by Albrecht (2015) as “the anxiety that is felt in the face of the threat of increasing frequency and severity of extreme weather events […] Such ‘meteoranxiety’ is exacerbated now that we have 24/7 ‘weather channels’ that deliver repeated, graphic warnings about every type of weather event possible” (n.p.).

In this research, meteoranxiety was present amongst participants in two ways. First, participants reported having lost confidence in the consistency of local seasonal weather patterns. After experiencing over a decade of highly variable seasonal conditions, persistent dryness and multiple heatwaves and frost events, participants felt less confident in the regularity of seasonal weather patterns and the sort of seasonal conditions they could expect to occur from one year to the next:

[…] no I don’t think I’m nearly as confident now about what’s going to happen next year, you just have to hope for the best (BS, R2).

I’m less confident that you know what’s going to happen year to year. I think it’s more variable on an annual basis; not so much seasonal - like when you’re in a dry winter or a wet winter … but as to what will happen next year, who knows (CS, R2).

[…] you can’t guarantee that you’re going to get the rain. So I think you do lack a bit of confidence in the seasons (DS, R2).

Yeah I suppose we’ve all completely lost confidence. And this year hopefully will increase confidence a little bit (TM, R2).

An addition, there was a sense that the weather was less predictable than it once was:

One time you could just feel it in your bones. Your back was aching or your knees were aching or something and you sort of said ‘we must be going to get some rain next couple

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of days’. But sometimes all we get is a bit of wind. So, now it’s got very hard to predict it. I mean, I was never real good at predicting, I suppose, because it nearly always came. But now it doesn’t always front up. And you think ‘well why?’ (CM, R2).

Participants’ loss of confidence in the predictability and consistency of the seasonal weather patterns mirror the experiences of Inuit community members in Nunavut, Canada. As documented by Fox (2004), increased seasonal variance in wind, snow and rainfall had left many Inuit residents feeling uncertain about seasonal conditions and their ability to predict future weather. As a result, residents had taken to labelling their local climate uggianaqtuq: ‘a friend acting strangely.’ Similar feelings have been documented amongst the Inuit of Rigolet, Nunatsiavut (Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012b), rural Ghanaians (Tschakert et al., 2013), as well as Torres Strait Islanders of Northern Australia (McNamara & Westoby, 2011). In this way, Newdegate residents join a growing number of peoples and cultures from around the world who feel as though they have lost the ability to know, and feel secure within, the seasonal rhythms of their home environments.

The second way meteoranxiety presented amongst participants in this research was in relation to their weather-forecast checking behaviours. Weather forecasts are an invaluable tool for farmers, and checking weather forecasts is a routine part of farmers’ daily activities. Many begin their days by listening to the four-day weather forecast on the radio or by browsing various weather websites. Throughout the day, many would then listen to follow-up forecasts or check additional websites:

[…] the radio comes on at six in the morning, we listen to the weather then, and then we listen to it about 6.30am - that Country Hour - and then we listen to it about 7am. And then on the news at night you always turn the telly on to watch the weather. You know, your life just revolves around the weather (DY, R2).

Daily. And that’s more because the laptop is normally in the office, but it’s out at the moment. Its emails, weather … it’s just part of that general looking to see what’s going on (SY, R2).

During poor seasons characterised by dryness or inconsistent rainfall, some participants’ weather-checking behaviours appeared to take on pathological characteristics. Many participants reported an increase in their weather-checking behaviours during poor

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seasons. As PW describes below, his weather-checking behaviours increase when needing rain:

I’ll check it hourly sometimes in tough seasons. Because say if you’re looking and say on the Friday you haven’t had any rain and you’re really hanging out for rain and there’s 10mil coming on Friday you’ll check it - you’ll check it every morning and every afternoon at least because it’s updated every six hours. And you just want to see what all the models are all saying (QY, R2).

Another participant reported checking weather forecasts up to 20 times a day during poor seasons. Though not necessarily problematic in itself, increased checking behaviours may indicate increased sensitivity to the weather. Indeed, there was evidence to suggest amongst older participants that their sensitivity to rainfall had increased over recent years in relation to recent drying trends. As DS describes below, farmers’ notion of what constitutes a ‘good rain’ has shifted dramatically in recent times, reflecting the drying conditions:

Once upon a time we didn’t even worry if it was 1 or 2 mls. Now they record everything. You didn’t worry about something if it was under 10mil sort of thing, but 10 mils [is] like a brilliant rain (DS, R1).

Coupled with this increased sensitivity, farmers now have an unprecedented ability to observe the weather in advance of its arrival. Unlike previous generations of farmers who relied upon their own observations or intuitions to predict future weather, the current generation has access, and are exposed to, a plethora of weather-related information instantly accessible via computer and/or smart phone devices. While such technologies are invaluable in allowing farmers to be more responsive to daily and seasonal fluctuations in the weather, participants also reported that these same technologies had the potential to amplify the stresses of a poor season. Particularly distressing for some participants was the way in which such technologies allowed them to ‘watch’ rain-bearing storm systems dissipate before their arrival in Newdegate. For instance, farmers can draw upon imagery provided by weather radars to track the movement of storm systems as they pass through the region. As the comments provided by JM below demonstrate, access to such information can produce a sense of anticipation which motivates further weather-checking:

Certainly, definitely it can. You’re looking at the radar fifteen times before it gets here and you think ‘c’mon, that’s a good system’ and then ‘hasn’t happened, hasn’t

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happened’ and you look and it’s all broken up and gone - ‘Jesus’ (JM, R2).

Rainfall often offers an immediate (albeit temporary) reprieve from many of the stresses encountered during the course of a difficult season. Therefore, it is important to recognise that the promise of a storm system offers farmers a sense of hope and consolation during times of need. When considered in this way, radar technologies and other rainfall indicators have emotional significance, for they allow family farmers to sustain hope in desperate times.

In instances where there is little prospect for rain in the near future, farmers will turn their attention to forecasts from further afield. As the following participant describes, in such situations farmers may take to looking at longer-term forecasts, some of which may extend all the way to the horn of Africa. Though not at all confident in their accuracy, some farmers may begin to place their hopes on these increasingly tenuous predictions of rain:

(TM) We look at more long range ones when you’ve got no rain and you hope to hell … and they’re never accurate!

(interviewer) What range?

(TM) Oh probably ten days out to two weeks.

(interviewer) Being able to access your smart phone, having it with you all the time and having those constant updates in a bad season where you’re checking all the time, can that sort of perpetuate stress?

(TM) Oh yeah! Absolutely. And yeah you do, you look at it and you try and make something out of it that’s not really there. And looking at forecasts that far ahead is … you might as well write your own forecast with no knowledge. And really we only trust something that’s probably only four days out. A week out is still too far away really. And you start looking at what is happening in Africa because that weather pattern is going to come our way and you know … Like, you go to the pub and someone says “oh, something good is happening over Africa! We’re going to be alright in ten days’ time!” And you start hanging your hope on that (R2).

The emotional toll on farmers when the storm systems they have been tracking in real time via satellite imagery and global weather radar systems break up and dissipate before reaching them can be devastating. A representative from the Regional Men’s Health

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Initiative described the non-arrival of growing season rainfall as one of the biggest let downs to farmers, and suggested it contributed to a spike in mid-season calls by distressed farmers to his organisation. In Newdegate, one older participant described the cycle of hope and despair caused by the incessant checking of the weather as an ‘emotional rollercoaster ride’ - one made all the worse by farmers’ access to weather forecasting and radar technologies:

(KY) I hate that technology has made us privy to so much information - I hate it. Its better when we just looked over the horizon and went “oh, that looks like a rain cloud. It might rain.”

(Interviewer) So the technology you’re talking about is smart phone apps and those sorts of things?

(KY) Yep, all these - everything. Elders weather, US Navy weather … You can find one that says you’re going to have a good rain. And when it doesn’t happen … And they say “there is a ninety percent chance of ten-to-twenty mls” and you get nothing […] that emotional rollercoaster I hate - I hate that one. And last year was fantastic because you didn’t need to look because we’ve had rain so we weren’t needing another one. So you didn’t have that emotional rollercoaster of having expectation and having it dashed (KY, R3).

After enduring many iterations of this emotional rollercoaster, or when confronted with no prospects of rain, farmers may stop checking weather forecasts altogether. As indicated by participants’ comments below, there comes a point where checking for rain in the midst of sustained dryness either becomes a task too pointless or depressing to maintain:

Sometimes if there is nothing on there you just stop looking because all you’ve done is depressed yourself (JM, R2).

Looking, looking, looking, there’s nothing there - just turn it off (CM, R2).

Well I stop looking. […] I totally stop looking at the weather because that wasn’t a good … I’m not into negative stuff […] I don’t want to know! They always get it wrong! [laughs] (DY, R2).

Though such behaviours may outwardly confer apathy, such detachment would seem to constitute a form of ‘ecoparalysis’. Ecoparalysis is a psychoterratic condition in which the outward appearance of apathy, complacency or disengagement is motivated by an inward

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feeling of anxiety, fear or powerlessness that is rooted in the degradation of a loved environment (Albrecht, 2011, 2012; Lertzman, 2008, June 19; Lertzman, 2012). Ecoparalysis can therefore be described as the conscious or unconscious attempt to disassociate or ‘switch off’ from a distressing environmental situation. The relationship between ecoanxiety and ecoparalysis is unclear, though it may be that in some cases ecoanxiety morphs into ecoparalysis once an emotional threshold has been breached and the victim feels powerless to act as a change agent.

It is important to note, however, that farmers’ anxieties regarding the weather are likely to naturally increase and decrease throughout the course of any given season. Seeding and harvest are times when farmers naturally become more attuned to the weather; whereas the non-growing season (summer) and the middle of winter are periods where farmers will maintain only a cursory eye on the weather. In this way, farmers’ emotional sensitivity to the weather naturally expands and contracts throughout the course of a given season (this is discussed further in Section 7.4.3). Even during poor seasons in which meteoranxiety and ecoparalysis are likely to be encountered, the impact of such conditions on the total wellbeing of the individual farmer will be a function of the individual’s capacity to accommodate uncertainty into their lives. As CY describes below, it is best not to get ‘too involved’ in the vagaries of the weather. Maintaining a degree of emotional distance from the weather is thereby likely to be an appropriate emotional response in allowing farmers to maintain their mental health and wellbeing in the midst of seasonal adversity:

Well you probably go through periods of both where you’re searching, searching, searching - you know, hoping there’s going to be some rain on the horizon - and then you go through periods where it’s also a waste of time. But yeah, you can’t get too involved or stressed over that, because it doesn’t make it rain, it’s just giving you a prediction (CY, R2).

However, the ability to emotionally dissociate from the weather or to appreciate good times when they occur may be undermined by constant exposure to seasonal adversity. There was evidence to suggest that constant exposure to inconsistent and generally poor seasonal conditions over the past ten years had had such an impact upon some participants. The quotes below were taken from farmers during the spring of 2013. Like most places throughout the Wheatbelt during the course of this season, Newdegate had experienced an extremely favourable start to the season only to then endure one of their driest Junes on record. Despite this, favourable rains returned, placing farmers in a very

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strong position by September. Although these late season rains instilled a degree of confidence within participants; for some, a sense of meteoranxiety remained:

And even in a good year, like this year, we’re still constantly listening to the weather reports. I know that people are optimistic but I’m feeling that we’ve got a long way to go before harvest and we’ve got the frost risk to get through yet and we’re not getting quite as much rain as other people. So if we have a few dry windy days that subsurface moisture’s got to dry out really quickly, so we’re still reliant on some finishing rains in October. So I’m … yeah, I’ll believe it when we harvest it and put it in the [storage] bin, and then I’ll relax [laughs] (BS, R2).

[…] I’ve got to the point where now if it starts raining too much it starts making me feel edgy. I mean that’s weird, isn’t it? We’re so used to no rain, or not much, that if we start to get some heavy rain, you know, I start to get a bit edgy! (CS, R2).

Mid-August, I thought we had very good soil moisture. All the crops were looking pretty cruisy and now I’m just fucking nervous. I’m really nervous about frost. Every year where we’ve had a pretty heavy crop we’ve got some frost and we’ve had big harvest rain. I’m not a pessimist, but I’m just psyching myself up for these things to happen (SY, R2).

Barring a frost I’m confident that we’ve got it basically. The nervousness now is that is it going to stop come harvest time? Because the last three big crops we’ve had we’ve had wet harvests. And [in] 2011 we had really big crops and really big quality and a lot of it got downgraded and that was a massive cost. It probably wiped over $100,000 of value off what we grew (JM, R2).

[…] we’re just always so scared. Like, now we’re scared of frost. Yeah, I suppose we’re just very cautious. But as the year has gone on we’ve got more confident I suppose because the weather patterns have been doing what they’ve … Normally in the last few years they’ve been forecasting something and they might forecast 4mil or 6mil or something and we get 2mil or 3mil. Whereas this year they forecast 6mil and we’ve been getting 8mil or 10mil. So our confidence has grown and just progressed throughout the year […] and if this year does pull off and its okay, we’ll start next year probably very cautious again because we know that this is just exceptional and it’s not the norm (TM, R2).

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For these participants, there was genuine concern, fear and anxiety that their crop potential would be decimated by a sudden inimical weather event. Previous experiences of inconsistent seasonal weather conditions over the last decade had taught them to expect the worst, particularly when crop potential was high. Though a degree of anxiety during key times of year is to be expected in farming communities, it is likely that weather-related feelings of anxiety have intensified as a result of the abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate in the 2000s. Writing with regard to the personal impacts of unfolding climate change, Albrecht (2011) notes “instead of regularity and the ability to plan ahead, people are now anxious about an unreliable future and what it might hold for them, even in the relatively short term” (p. 47). It would seem this such a sentiment rings true amongst the participants quoted above and on the previous page.

It is important to acknowledge that the participants interviewed in this research displayed a remarkable degree of emotional and psychological resilience in the face of climatic and economic uncertainty. Participants acknowledged the weather-related risks involved in farming, and consider themselves to be the biggest ‘gamblers’ around. In the face of such uncertainty, many participants repeated the mantra: ‘it’s not over until it’s in the bin’, meaning that it is best not to raise expectations or hopes until the harvest is finished, stored and sold. However, while stoicism in the face of adversity is a cultural icon of the ‘Australian farmer’, this discussion clearly demonstrates that contemporary Wheatbelt farmers harbour anxieties over the weather; and while it is likely that farmers throughout history worried about the weather to some extent, it is difficult not to think that the current generation - faced with a rapidly changing climate, contracting socio-ecological thresholds to production and an enhanced ability to ‘see’ the weather in advance - experience a degree and a ‘type’ of meteoranxiety unknown to previous generations.

7.4 Solastalgia For people with deep personal, familial or cultural connections to place, losing place can be highly traumatic. Indeed, both homesickness and nostalgia, though no longer recognised as medically defined psychopathologies, have the potential to inflict a deep sense of trauma and grief upon afflicted individuals (Fried, 1963; Fullilove, 1996; van Tilburg & Vingerhoets, 1997). In most cases, place-based distress is usually the result of a forced separation from a home environment or a consequence of its sudden destruction. However, in the age of the Anthropocene (Crutzen, 2002; Steffen et al., 2007), place-based distress also has the potential to happen in reverse, as home environments that have supported human

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endeavours for generations change and/or degrade in the face of overwhelming anthropogenic pressures.

In contrast to the trauma felt by those who have endured a separation from a home environment, solastalgia describes the sense of distress felt by those living in a home environment that is perceived to be undergoing a negative transformation. As Albrecht (2005) explains:

[Solastalgia] is the pain experienced when there is recognition that the place where one resides and that one loves is under immediate assault (physical desolation). It is manifest in an attack on one’s sense of place, in the erosion of the sense of belonging (identity) to a particular place and a feeling of distress (psychological desolation about its transformation) […] It is the ‘lived experience’ of the loss of the present as manifest in a feeling of dislocation; of being undermined by forces that destroy the potential for solace to be derived from the present. In short, solastalgia is a form of homesickness one gets when one it still at ‘home’ (p. 45).

Solastalgia has the potential to emerge in any situation where residents feel as though a meaningful place is threatened by forces outside of their control. In this regard, solastalgia can be the result of human actions or natural phenomena that undermine the integrity of a place or an individual’s connection to a place. While solastalgia may be most evident in the aftermath of sudden catastrophic events (e.g. fire, flood, cyclones, war), it is also present among strongly place-attached people living in environments perceived to be negatively transforming as a result of chronic anthropogenic climate change (e.g. Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a; McNamara & Westoby, 2011; Tschakert et al., 2013). As will be demonstrated in this section, much in the same way that the chronic and gradual impacts of a changing climate is disrupting some Indigenous groups’ connections to place, the abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate in the Wheatbelt is producing similar feelings of place-based distress amongst family farmers. This section examines farmers’ experiences of climate-induced solastalgia in relation to three themes: 1) loss of control, 2) desolation of the home-farm, and 3) seasonal patterns of place-based distress.

7.4.1 Loss of control The ability to exert control over one’s environment has been considered by some scholars to be vital for the maintenance of human mental health and wellbeing (Albrecht, 2005; Proshansky et al., 1983). In the case of farming families, however, control over one’s

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environment is only ever partial, as much depends on the vagaries of the weather. While market prices and other such factors undoubtedly influence the level of control farmers can exert over their farming properties, participants intimated that weather, more so than any other factor, influences their perceived level of control over their farm environment:

You haven’t got complete control. You can make choices at times but you don’t have complete control. Sometimes you are a price taker, and you haven’t got control over the weather which is the main factor of it all (SY, R3).

Um, not a lot [of control] really. It’s, uh, there is the economic business - I mean, selling and buying and selling - but, I think the weather - the rainfall - is pretty much the key. So, you can say that you haven’t got a lot of control in that way (NL, R3).

There is only ever a degree of control because we can put enough out to get something, but without rain you don’t get anything (TM, R3).

Perhaps unsurprisingly, participants cited seasonal rainfall as a key factor that determined the level of control they felt they could exert over their farm environment at any given time. In this, there was a stark contrast between wet and dry seasons. For instance, consistent seasonal rainfall was said by some participants to provide them with ‘options’ and ‘flexibility’ with regard to their management decisions (BS, R2). Participants also remarked that consistent seasonal rainfall allowed them to make management decisions with a greater degree of confidence, both in the short term and looking further ahead:

That earlier rain allowed stock feed [to grow], which gave greater choices to which paddocks to put stock in, to which paddocks to keep for cropping, [and] which paddocks to spray out pastures to make it better for next year. It has made it easier - much easier (SY, R2).

Yeah, you can have the confidence to be thinking for twelve months ahead. You’re setting stuff up, which we do anyway, but a lot of the risk is taken out of it because you’ve got a good base underneath your pastures so you can take your grasses out, take your broad-leaf out, and get your clover established and not be scared of it getting blown away at this time of year. Basically we’ve pretty much set things up so we can start relatively early next year, granted we get a [opening] break (JM, R2).

Well, assuming it’s not too wet and you can still get crop in and everything, it’s usually better in the wet because even

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if it’s a bit wet for cropping we still get better results for sheep. I think somebody said it is ‘better farming mud than dust.’ Definitely you feel you have more control over a wet season than a dry (BS, R3).

In poor seasons characterised by persistent dryness, however, participants felt less confident in their ability to make the right management decisions. This appeared partly due to the complexities of managing finite financial resources in a context of increased environmental constraints and uncertainty. As CS’s example below clearly demonstrates, when juggling limited financial resources with little guarantee of a good production year, farmers have to engage in management decisions that require the negotiation of various interconnected and complex trade-offs. In his example, the decision to continue a liming program is weighted against the costs associated with family expenses, labour, machinery, and the uncertainty of the seasons:

Four years ago I started a liming program because I thought we have to start putting some lime out, and we spent $35,000 in that first year. And the next year was a poor year - we had two kids in private schools, and I had to can that. And nothing has got better since. The [soil] pH levels have declined. So now we’ve got to start again this year, and maybe we should be liming rather than repaying capital debt structure. And we might have to make that decision. As I said, I am in the process of budgeting now, but just based on what I want to do this year it would take $45,000 to put this lime on. We need to be doing that every year and probably just ongoing, and when we’ve done a cycle come again from where we started. Probably over a five year cycle we need to be doing that, spending that forty to fifty thousand dollars on lime. Now, to bring money into it, we’re using a contractor to spread it. Now if we’re going to be spending that money on lime and spreading - we also use a contractor to spread urea - it makes common sense to go and buy a spreader. So you’ve got to go and spend another fifty grand on capital equipment. And the tractor we’ve got to pull a spreader is not really adequate, so we probably need to do an upgrade. So it’s all a compromise of how much do you spend; because it’s justifiable as a paper exercise, and you’ll get the money back, but you have to spend it first, which means you have to borrow it first. And if things go wrong, that sort of thing can bring you down […] So management is what we have control over, and if you’ve got a better season, I think that helps because then you’ve got more confidence that you’re going to get more result - you’ve got more cash flow, and then it’s easier to decide whether $50,000 is going here or

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whether $50,000 is going there. But if there is no $50,000 it can’t go either place can it? (CS, R2).

During the course of a dry season, the ‘tone’ of farmers’ management decisions was found to dramatically shift: whereas ‘good’ seasons offer participants opportunities to improve their farming properties and to grow their farm businesses, dry years impose risks on crops, land and animals, and create limitations and restrictions on the types of management options afforded to them. As a result, the entire modus operandi of farmers’ decision- making changes from one of hope, optimism and value-adding, to cutting back, circumventing damage and minimising loss:

[Rain] takes the stress off: crops grow good, everything’s going good, sheep’s’ going good, and any decision you’re making is just to make it better. Whereas when you don’t get the rain any decision you make is trying to negate the negativity (KY, R2).

A dry year you look at what costs you can cut out straight away and a wet year you go ‘how much can I get into this plant before it’s too late?’ […] I remember it must have been our first meeting and when we had some really good rains, I was as happy as a person could be because everything can happen. You can go and do any job you want. When there is no rain the list of jobs is just shit. When it’s drought you can cart water, cart food, go stand sheep up, go to sell sheep, go shoot sheep, go and watch your crop die, spray your crop for any bugs that are trying to suck that tiny bit of moisture out of them, and diseases. When your crop is growing happily it just seems to go past a lot of those problems (QY, R2).

As dry conditions persist and the necessity to limit losses intensifies, farmers come under increased pressure to find ways to ‘make it work.’ As SY describes below, good seasons afford farmers the time and resources to engage in creative ways of thinking that contribute to the growth and betterment of their farms. In contrast, in poor seasons farmers are forced to think creatively just to minimise damage and losses:

There is that capacity to think slightly more outside the square I suppose without feeling as though you’re forced to think outside the square to how to make it work (SY, R2).

Faced with an increasingly complex set of circumstances with fewer resources and increasing constraints, a point may eventually arise in which farmers feel as though they no

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longer have control over their situation. When confronted with such circumstances, a sense of powerlessness may take hold:

And that sense of powerlessness … you are ... you don’t … you work as hard as you can to prevent all the bad stuff. You try and stop your land from eroding; you try and stop all your water from running out; you try to keep all your livestock in optimum condition all the time - you only make money out of sheep when they’re fat and healthy (QY, R2).

As QY’s comment above highlights, persistent dryness can create a situation in which farmers feel as though they cannot prevent losses from accumulating, no matter what they do or how hard they work. When faced with such conditions over the course of multiple seasons, farmers’ emotional wellbeing may begin to spiral downwards. As a representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative explains below, uncertainties created by adverse seasonal conditions can cumulate over time, driving farmers’ mental wellbeing towards increasingly negative psychoterratic, and, perhaps, pathological states:

So it hasn’t rained: do I try and put a crop in or do I wait until it rains? If it doesn’t rain what will I do then? So constantly for those major periods of the year - seeding and harvesting - the climatic stress is really quite enormous, but it’s usually probably those periods or situations that create the biggest stress. If that becomes continuous - so they don’t get a crop in - their wellbeing starts to become […] severe because they move into ‘despair’ because nothing is coming in. You can’t get the crop in - is it worth putting the crop in? So then there are expenses: they put the crop in and it doesn’t rain; so they’ve spent eighty thousand dollars putting that crop in and they’re not going to get it back. So you do that year, after year, after year, after year - because of the climate, they’re becoming more and more depressed because it turns into despair, and despair turns into that depression (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

It is important to note that feelings of powerlessness were not commonly articulated amongst the participants in this study. Even during the most difficult seasons, participants, for the most part, felt they could maintain a degree of control over their environments and their situations through the choices that they made, while at the same time being able to accept their lack of total control over their situation. As stated by ML previously, farmers have to learn to hold their farms ‘loosely’ if they are to avoid being emotionally damaged by climate adversity (ML, R3). Indeed, it may be that the ability to partially dissociate emotionally from the farm during times of adversity contributes to farmers’ personal

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resilience in the face of uncertainty. However, further research is required to confirm this contention.

On an aside, it must also be noted that, despite the apparent emotional resilience of the farmers interviewed in this study, a local GP expressed significant concerns for the mental health and wellbeing of farmers throughout the Newdegate-Lake Grace region towards the end of the 2012-13 season. Severe depression and suicide risk were reported as major concerns during this time, which were then alleviated by the return of favourable seasonal conditions in the latter half of the 2013-14 season:

Previous year, 2012, we certainly had a lot more depressed farmers - seriously depressed. Some of them even I thought may have been suicidal. Whereas last year with a very good season and a good crop I haven’t seen any people come in complaining about any depression signs as such (General Practitioner, Lake Grace region).

Whether participants in this study were particularly resilient or unwilling to discuss the true extent of their emotional states is unknown. It is also unknown to what degree favourable conditions during the interview series alleviated participants’ fears and concerns. Either way, it is evident from the GP’s comments on the previous page that prolonged exposure to seasonal adversity had pushed some farmers toward a state of high emotional and psychological vulnerability. The seasonal and chronic dimensions of farmers’ place-based distress are discussed further in Section 7.4.3.

7.4.2 Desolation of the home-farm It is in the context of a chronically desolated home environment that solastalgia is most likely to emerge (Albrecht, 2005, 2011; Albrecht et al., 2007). Although the Newdegate region has not been subject to the same severe drought conditions that have desiccated the north-eastern parts of the Wheatbelt, or those that at time of writing have ravaged inland Queensland and New South Wales (Mark, 2015, June 5; Robertson, 2015, May 13), the landscape in and around the Newdegate area has nevertheless been negatively impacted by years of persistent dryness.

Chronic dryness can impact farmland in various ways (e.g. drying rivers, wilting or dying vegetation, and distressed animals). However, most pertinent to this discussion is its potential to elicit wind erosion. Wind erosion occurs when soil particles are lifted from the land surface and transported by the wind (Office of Environment and Heritage, 2014). Though naturally occurring in areas where soil is exposed to the wind, in broadacre farming

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systems wind erosion is usually a symptom of climatic and economic stress. Chronic dryness not only degrades pastures, it also limits management options. Wind erosion may occur in situations where farmers have little pasture cover and/or little opportunity to off- load livestock.

Though seemingly benign, wind erosion is associated with various negative outcomes to farmers, farm businesses and farmland. Some of these include:

• impacts to human health: reduction in air quality and associated impacts on respiratory conditions (e.g. asthma);

• loss of agricultural production;

• degradation of the environment;

• loss of property and aesthetic value; and

• loss of economic production (OEH, 2014).

When taken together, wind erosion is a complex environmental stressor that has the potential to undermine farmers’ physical health, their financial position, and the health of their farmland. In addition to these impacts, wind erosion was also found in this research to undermine family farmers’ emotional and psychological wellbeing.

Participants spoke of wind erosion in a particularly emotive tone. To witness wind erosion was ‘horrible’, ‘terrible’, ‘heart-wrenching’ and ‘depressing.’ CM’s comments below capture some of the emotions felt by farmers when seeing their farm ‘blow’:

There’s probably nothing worse than seeing your farm go in a dust storm. I reckon it’s probably one of the worst feelings; or the next worse thing would be if it was burnt, and if it’s burnt it’s going to blow anyway […] I find that one of the most depressing things of the lot, seeing the farm blow away in a dust storm. That really gets up my nose, and a long way up it too. If it’s blowing dust I just come inside here. I can’t stand to watch it. It’s just annoying (CM, R1).

For one participant, wind erosion even produced a psycho-somatic response:

If you put it into physical terms, to see a paddock that’s been over-grazed and is blowing away, I can almost - it sounds a bit funny- it almost physically hurts to see

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someone’s top soil … it might belong to someone else, it might be a neighbour, I look at it and I cringe (OL, R1).

As noted by the OEH (2014), wind erosion can significantly degrade the aesthetic value of the affected landscape. Wind drifts leave farmland barren and scarred, and the broader environment a dusty brown as blown topsoil comes to settle upon gardens, fences, machinery and homes. As one participant described: ‘it’s just a horrible looking desolate mess afterwards’ (WY, R1). During large wind erosion events, dust storms can smother entire regions. For example, as shown in Figure 15 on the next page, the main street of Newdegate partially disappeared during a dust storm event in February 2013. After a dry growing season in 2012 and a record-breaking hot summer in 2013, large swathes of the Wheatbelt were left bare and at risk of wind erosion. In such circumstances, even relatively light winds can cause significant damage to farmland.

Figure 15. Newdegate dust storm, February 2013. Source: Neville Ellis.

Due to its degrading impact upon the landscape, wind erosion presents a significant economic problem to farmers who depend upon the health and vigour of their farming properties for their own financial security. As such, aesthetic impacts of wind erosion are also connected to concerns about the financial wellbeing of the farming family:

And I’m not saying it is all money by any stretch of the imagination; I think it’s the emotional part of your life, too. You want to look out that window every morning and see a lovely landscape with birds and soil all lovely. You don’t

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want to look out and it’s all degraded and horrible. And it’s also connected to your anxiety about having to make money to pay for food and clothing and your kids’ school fees (BS, R1).

However, even more damaging to farmers’ wellbeing than the economic impact of wind erosion is its symbolic meaning. Wind erosion was found to embody meanings that reflected negatively upon farmers’ sense of self. For instance, participants tended to perceive wind erosion as a ‘management issue.’ Although participants acknowledged that wind erosion was much more difficult to prevent during periods of sustained dryness, wind erosion was nevertheless regarded as a preventable problem and as something that ‘should not happen.’ As a result, wind erosion, particularly if it occurred upon an isolated farm rather than throughout an entire region, was perceived to outwardly reflect a farmer’s greed or failure as a land manager:

[…] you do take it to heart if you’ve got paddocks blowing and you’ve got dust coming off them because you know that’s - well, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place […] So it’s something that shouldn’t happen, and so you need to take on board why it did happen (CY, R2).

Wind erosion is huge. On a windy day, if you see your paddocks blow that is bad farming basically. Yeah, so that’s all the top soil just blowing off your land - that’s terrible. That’s criminal (DY, R2).

When you see the farm bare and desolate and dry it’s pretty upsetting, almost. I’m quite positive about farming all the time except when I see the farm blow dust. It’s just heart wrenching. It’s terrible to know that soil has been there forever, since the beginning of the Earth, and your greed and mismanagement makes it blow. It’s a really horrible thing to see, and I hate seeing it on other people’s farm. We go to every extent not to let it happen (WY, R2).

Further compounding the negative emotional and psychological impact of wind erosion on family farmers was the way in which it seemingly contradicted their sense of self as ‘responsible land stewards.’ Many of the farmers interviewed in this research reported feeling a strong sense of responsibility towards the land and felt charged with its upkeep. Consequently, ‘letting the land blow’ was viewed as antithetic to what it meant to be a responsible ‘land carer’:

[…] say if your paddocks are blowing away, it just looks like shit. There is nothing worse than just seeing a big dust

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bowl. And so you try and manage your stock or your cover so you don’t get that erosion. It’s partly an emotional attachment to it because you know that it is not good for the land, that sort of ‘caretaker’ type of thing where you think ‘I’m not leaving it better than it was if I let it happen all the time like that’ (QY, R3).

When the self-concept is heavily entwined with the environment, its degradation may inevitably lead to the desolation of the self. For example, amongst Australian Aboriginal groups, personal identity is ontologically rooted in Country. Therefore, if Country becomes ‘sick’, then sickness may befall the individual (Albrecht & Ellis, 2014; Anderson, 1995; Kingsley, Townsend, Phillips, & Aldous, 2009; Rigby, Rosen, Berry, & Hart, 2011). As discussed in the previous chapter, it is perhaps in this same manner that some family farmers’ self-identity is also connected to the vigour of their farming properties, and it is perhaps also for this reason that wind erosion has the potential to have such a powerful and devastating impact on farmers’ sense of self. Wind erosion and its associated impacts on farmers’ mental health and wellbeing are discussed by KY below:

Farmers hate dust, dust storms, because they more or less see their farms lifting […] Years ago we had a really bad dust storm. Had a guy come in for an x-ray at the hospital and he was stressed out of his mind - and it was just the wind, it really bothered him. Farmers just hate seeing their farm lift; it somehow says to them ‘I’m a bad farmer’. And I think all farmers are good farmers. They all try their hardest to be. They all love their land. It’s misconstrued that farmers are degrading the land deliberately. I think they try their hardest, they always have. You might get the odd one, but the majority of them they’ve been there for many years and have the expectation that it will be there for many more years (KY, R1).

Further adding to the distress caused by wind erosion is the lack of separation between the home and work environments on the farm. As shown in the previous chapter, participants’ houses tended to overlook paddocks and other aspects of the farming property. By living upon the land they work, there is little opportunity for farmers to escape problems that may arise within the landscape. The effect of this lack of separation on participants’ lived experience of place is powerfully illustrated below. When confronted with wind erosion, several participants reported shutting themselves and their partners inside and behind closed curtains in the attempt to block out the outside world:

[…] there have been a few days where you can’t help - we’ve had a dry season and then we get the wind coming in

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at the beginning of the season. There’s no cover and you get all the dust and I think we all pull the curtains and hide because it is depressing. It’s awful looking out there and seeing paddocks blowing (CS, R1).

That’s the worst. I actually pull the blinds. Dave will come inside because you almost get stung with it. I’ll pull the blinds and put a movie on so that Dave’s not watching it (DY, R2).

A real windy day I’ll say ‘Jim, sit in the lounge room and pull the curtains’. It’s really funny, if you’re in Perth and you’re not here and someone says there is a dust storm it just doesn’t seem to affect them. But if they’re here during it, it’s just, you know … (KY, R2).

One participant even reported trying to hide under her bed covers to prevent herself from seeing her land blow:

There’s nothing [that] makes me more depressed than to see the place - dust blowing off the place. It’s really terrible […] I can’t stand the place blowing away. Dust! I get in bed and pull the rugs over my head so I can’t see it (FO, R2).

From participants’ comments above, it is apparent that the lack of separation between the home and work environments compounds the distress caused by wind erosion. By living upon the land that they own and work, family farmers are afforded little reprieve from the stresses of a degraded farm environment. It is in this context that behaviours such as closing curtains or hiding under bed covers can be understood as a means of last resort to shield themselves from a home environment that has become so degraded that it is too distressing to watch. These findings are similar to those reported by Rogan, O’Connor and Horwitz (2005) and Sartore et al. (2008) who found comparable feelings of distress amongst farming families living in the southern Wheatbelt as well as the drought-stricken central-western region of New South Wales respectively. In their studies, the degradation of the environment (and wind erosion in particular) was found to be a significant emotional and psychological stressor affecting farming families, the impact of which was compounded by the lack of separation between the home and work environments. It is in these moments and spaces that feelings of solastalgia are severe and inescapable. Once the landscape dries out and wind erosion takes hold there is very little that farmers can do to alleviate the problem except to wait for rains that may or may not come.

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While dust storms and periods of dryness may appear as stand-alone events, it is important to recognise these environmental threats are acute expressions of an underlying pattern of chronic environmental distress. With the breakdown of historical seasonal patterns and the abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate profile, there appears to be a seasonal pattern to farmers’ place-based distress. These patterns of seasonal place-based distress are examined further in the next section.

7.4.3 Seasonal and chronic patterns of place-based distress Throughout the history of broadacre farming in the Wheatbelt (and throughout the history of agriculture more generally) natural climatic variability would have produced temporary periods of climatic and environmental adversity. These periods would have most likely elicited temporary bouts of place-based distress amongst affected individuals. However, such periods of climatic adversity would have been infrequent and relatively benign in the Wheatbelt, as farmers enjoyed the security that came with being located in a region considered to have Australia’s most consistent and reliable winter climes (IOCI, 2004). As climate change trends intensify, however, and historical patterns of seasonal stability are replaced with seasonal volatility and pervasive dryness, there is evidence to suggest that farmers are now experiencing seasonal patterns of chronic place-based distress.

Evidence of the seasonal patterning of farmers’ place-based distress is provided by a representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative who reported seasonal ‘spikes’ in the number of phone calls received by the organisation by distressed farmers. Reflecting upon previous years, the informant indicated that seasonal spikes occurred nearly every year during the April/May and September periods:

[…] the two real stress spikes are obviously the seeding spikes - so our phone runs hot late April into May - and then that September time with the final rain needed to finish the crop off. So that is always a stressful time around the field days going into September (representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

Both times are crucial in the agricultural season, as both periods are highly dependent upon rainfall and important for the productivity, profitability and overall health of broadacre farming landscapes. A similar patterning of place-based distress was observed by a local general practitioner servicing the Lake Grace district. While farmers’ anxiety levels were said to vary from month to month, they followed a pattern similar to that observed above:

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The biggest time is when it gets to seeding time. Probably late April to end of May everybody is anxiously waiting for the crops for a rain so they can seed. And then again as you go through towards the end of the season, it is always the anxiety of “are we going to get a big frost that is going to wipe out the crop.” So, there is a lot of seasonal … you could say ‘seasonal affective disorders’: ‘SADs’ (General Practitioner, Lake Grace region).

‘Seasonal affective disorder’ (SAD) is a clinically described form of major depressive disorder that occurs at a specific time of year. It usually occurs in the Northern Hemisphere during the short, dark days of the winter months and is believed to be caused by a reduced exposure to sunlight and its attendant impacts on body hormones, such as serotonin and melatonin (Partonen & Lonnqvist, 1998). In contrast, the interpretation of SAD described above appears to be caused by the non-arrival or unpredictability of seasonal weather events. Therefore, unlike traditional forms of SAD that are triggered by biological responses to the changing of the seasons, this form of SAD may be considered a personal or cultural response to a changing climate.

Describing seasonal patterns of place-based distress as a form of SAD makes for an interesting new line of inquiry that ties in with the notion of ‘place phenology’ presented in the previous chapter. Just as the predictable and consistent arrival of the seasonal rains was shown to promote farmers’ topophilia and associated feelings of wellness in the previous chapter, here we can see that the breakdown of seasonal regularity elicits attendant seasonal patterns of distress and dis-ease amongst some family farmers. The disintegration of a place phenology, therefore, does appear to find correlates in residents’ emotional and psychological state of mind. Further research is required to establish the conceptual basis of ‘place phenology’ and its relationship to human health and wellbeing, both at an individual and a community level of analysis.

It is important to note at this point that seasonal patterns of distress are likely to have always been a part of farming. Seasonal patterns of rainfall have always been integral to productive and profitable farming in the Wheatbelt; and given the inherent uncertainty associated with the weather, many farmers are likely to have naturally experienced elevated levels of stress or anxiety during key periods of the year. However, as the findings regarding farmers’ experiences of meteoranxiety clearly show, many farmers no longer feel confident in the consistency or predictability of the weather and there is evidence to suggest that older farmers now worry about the weather more than what they used to.

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In addition, and perhaps more worryingly for the longer-term wellbeing of farmers, the frequency with which adverse climatic conditions now arrive may be eroding farmers’ emotional and psychological resilience. Previous studies have demonstrated that farmers’ personal resilience to adversity (environmental, economic and social) is dependent upon the health and resilience of their farming environments. For example, in a study examining factors that contribute to personal resilience amongst farming families in rural Queensland, Hegney et al. (2007) note:

Without exception, all of the participants mentioned how connection with the land enhances resilience for many people. Some participants note that the land itself is resilient and people who have a close tie to it become part this resilience cycle (p. 9).

Confirming this sentiment, Rickards (2011), in a study exploring farmers’ lived experiences of drought and climatic variability in rural Victoria, observed “many people’s demeanour and optimism bounced back rapidly as landscapes and livelihoods were revived with the rain” (p. 48). Similarly, participants in this research also observed a remarkable turnaround in personal and community sentiment with the arrival of seasonal rains during the 2013-14 season:

I think you can stay positive for so long, but then when you see farmers selling up that have been here for years it is hard to stay positive […] And then it rains and it’s just incredible! The whole town - you can just about see then bouncing along the street! All the businesses, everyone is happy and it just gives everyone a whole lift (DY, R2).

From DY’s comments, it is clear that personal and community wellbeing are tightly connected to seasonal patterns of rainfall, and that farmers display a remarkable capacity to ‘bounce back’ after enduring temporary periods of climatic adversity. Indeed, just as farming landscapes are resilient to a certain range of climatic variability, so too are the people that inhabit them. However, it is also evident from CW’s comments that farmers’ ability to ‘bounce back’ is predicated on the return of positive seasonal conditions which, in an era of rapid climate change, is not guaranteed. Whereas, historically, periods of drought were inevitably broken by the return of seasonal rains, periods of climatic adversity now last longer, occur more frequently, and are more severe than they used to be. Consequently, there is less opportunity for farmers and farming landscapes to recover before the next period of climatic adversity strikes. A particularly vivid illustration of this was provided by a key informant specialising in the mental health and wellbeing of rural

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children. As MW of the Wheatbelt Mental Health Service explains below, the negative impact of a poor season or a prolonged drought upon the health and wellbeing of farming families can take multiple years to recuperate. Although a good agricultural year certainly benefits the family, a single good year does not reset the family unit back to a ‘normal’ level of functioning:

(interviewer) Well in terms of those farmers that did have a good season last year, how important was it for them to have a good season last year?

[…]

Well the family structure is a little bit saner and less stress in that sense - it filters down. But when I say it filters down, I mean a positive filter. Saying all that, it is easier to have … a negative stream affects quicker than a positive stream. So if dad has a negative experience, it gets passed down to the kid, it impacts the kid greater compared to a dad that has a positive experience and flows down to the kid. I’m losing myself here a bit, but what I’m saying is once, from a family perspective, you have a bad year it is hard to recuperate back the positive experience to affect the children more - to compound it out to a normal level. So imagine if you have got three years of drought and you know that this is your first good year - it doesn’t mean everything goes back to square one. [The child] has still a lot of memories of those bad years. And a lot of kids - I have one kid in particular who is quite worried, he was anxious: ‘I’m not too sure if we will get our farm again. Yes, we’ve had a good year but what happens if next year is not like this?’ And that was his actual words; and this was an eight year old kid. So what I’m trying to say is all you need is a very bad experience and you need several good experiences to build it up (MW, Wheatbelt Mental Health Service).

In addition, with reference to farmers’ experiences of SAD, the local general practitioner also indicated that seasonal patterns of distress appear to be amplified by sustained exposure to poor seasonal conditions and below-average agricultural production years. Instead of resetting at the end of a poor agricultural season, seasonal patterns of distress may be accumulating from one season to the next:

You have rain now and you’re getting anxious to see when we’re going to have the follow-up rain. So after the follow up rain you feel good again, and then if it goes a little bit long without rain again then they’re getting a bit anxious

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again. I think it’s all to do with the prolonged period of bad years or suboptimal yields: incomes have dropped, the banks seem to be constantly on their necks, and, you know, it is becoming a very big problem (General Practitioner, Lake Grace region).

This points to a chronic breakdown in the relationship between people and place in the Wheatbelt. Though farmers may experience each drought, frost and wind storm as an individual event, they are in fact part of the same chronic trend towards an enduring ‘place pathology’33 (Casey, 1993) characterised by worsening patterns of seasonal place-based distress and the chronic erosion of farmers’ emotional and psychological resilience. Even though farmers in the Newdegate area are used to coping with uncertain seasonal conditions, it would seem that pervasive dryness and increasing seasonal variability are pushing some farmers to the limits of their coping ability. Indeed, as Head (2015) notes, “contexts where people are well used to coping with fluctuating and uncertain conditions will come under increasing pressure [by future climate change], and it will not necessarily be clear where the thresholds of coping might be” (p. 5). From a population health perspective, elevated rates of non-clinical and clinically-defined mental health burden may indicate these thresholds are being crossed. Given the level of community anxiety felt throughout the Wheatbelt during the data collection phase of this research, it is likely that the 2013-14 season edged close to such a point.

7.5 Chapter summary and conclusions This chapter examined farmers’ observations and understandings of climate change, as well as the impact of a changing climate on the place-related mental health and wellbeing of family farmers. In the first section, it was shown that farmers in the Newdegate region have experienced significant changes in their local climate over the last ten to fifteen years. However, there is much confusion amongst farmers as to why these changes have taken place and to what extent anthropogenic climate change could be implicated as a causal factor. Considering that climate beliefs influence farmers’ willingness to engage in adaptive strategies to mitigate climate-change risks, further work is required to communicate the issue of anthropogenic climate change and its impacts in a way that connects with family farmers’ personal experiences of climate change and in manner that is sensitive to farmers’ hopes, fears and aspirations.

33 The term ‘place pathology’ is not used here in a medical/clinical sense, but rather to express a kind of abnormal or maladaptive relationship between people and place that enhances the likely occurrence of human and ecosystem distress.

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The second part of the chapter then examined the emotional and psychological impacts of recent climate change on family farmers living in the Newdegate region. Findings indicate that some farmers had lost confidence in the consistency of seasonal weather patterns to the extent that they had begun to question the relative ‘safety’ of Newdegate as an agricultural region. It was also found that weather-forecast and weather-tracking technologies, though invaluable for farmers’ decision making, had had the unforeseen effect of amplifying farmers’ worries about the weather. Consequently, farmers displayed a form of ecoanxiety that adds to Albrecht’s (2014) conceptualisation of meteoranxiety, defined as the anxiety felt regarding the possibility of present and future extreme weather events as mediated by forecasting technology. The meteoranxiety exhibited by participants in this research, however, was also shown to relate to the sense of anxiety experienced in the relation to the breakdown of historical season norms and the newfound inconsistency and unpredictability of seasonal weather patterns. This suggests that the content of meteoranxiety can be in relation to extreme weather events and the chronic breakdown of historical climate patterns.

The analysis then examined family farmers’ experiences of climate-induced solastalgia. Chronic dryness was found to undermine farmers’ sense of control over their farming properties which, in the context of prolonged seasonal adversity, had the potential to elicit feelings of powerlessness and hopelessness. Over time, such feelings were reported to produce negative psychoterratic conditions, depression, and even suicide ideation amongst some farmers. Chronic dryness was also found to significantly affect farmers’ emotional and psychological states through its impact on the farming landscape. Wind erosion, in particular, was demonstrated to undermine farmers’ emotional and psychological wellbeing through the degradation of the farming environment; the subversion of the self; and by being an environmental stressor that, due to the lack of separation between the home and work environments, was impossible for farmers to escape.

From the findings presented here, as well as those presented by Sartore et al. (2008), it is clear that the desolation of the farming environment has the potential to negatively impact farmers’ emotional and psychological states, as well as their overall health and wellbeing. Indeed, in comparison to farmers’ experiences of topophilia discussed in the last chapter, the difference in farmers’ emotional states and psychological wellbeing between good and poor seasons is as dramatic as the transformations that occur in the farming landscape itself. Just as farming landscapes devoid of rainfall become barren and unproductive, so too

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the interior emotional and psychological landscapes of the individual family farmer becomes degraded and distressed when emplaced within such environmental conditions. In this sense, solastalgia (like topophilia) cannot be understood in a manner that is divorced from the environment that produced it; for diametrically opposed to topophilia, solastalgia is a symptom of a breakdown in the total health of an environment and the people, ecology and animals within it.

While a majority of the findings presented in this chapter could be read in relation to stand- alone dust storms or periods of dryness, it must be understood that anthropogenic global warming is increasing the frequency, severity and duration of such events in the Wheatbelt. There is evidence to suggest that there is less opportunity for people to recover from the last poor season or extreme weather event before being confronted with the next. Unlike previous generations of Australian farmers who suffered through drought and flooding rains only to eventually return to ‘normal’ or ‘average’ seasonal conditions, farmers in the Wheatbelt are emplaced within an environment that will not return to normal and that will continue to change in unforeseen and unexpected ways.34 Therefore, it is likely that the cumulative and chronic impacts of a changing climate change are of greater concern to the long-term emotional and psychological wellbeing of family farmers than the impacts of a stand-alone weather disaster or those stemming from a single poor season.

In addition, it is also important to note that the psychoterratic themes discussed here do not occur in isolation, but rather interact in ways that are likely to compound farmers’ experiences of place-based distress. For instance, feelings of meteoranxiety are likely to be amplified in the context of a degraded farming landscape, just as it is likely that feelings of powerlessness are amplified when there is little left to do but wait upon the weather. Farmers’ experiences of climate-induced place-based distress are also likely to be exacerbated by social, political, and economic stressors that impose further pressures on farmers’ decision-making, social relationships and their capacity to retain their valued connections to place. In response to this complexity, the Regional Men’s Health Initiative use the term ‘situational distress’ to describe the manner in which environmental, economic, cultural, social, and personal factors combine to undermine the health and wellbeing of Australian family farmers. As explained by a former representative the Regional Men’s Health Initiative:

34 See Chapter 8 for regional climate projections.

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Situational distress is the way I explain what farmers are going through because it’s too easy to jump to the conclusion that people have got depression/anxiety. But if you put someone in a tight situation - doesn’t matter whether it’s a farmer or whether it’s a bloke that has just lost his girlfriend - that’s a situation that’s very distressful. The symptoms of that are exactly the same as the symptoms for mental health or anxiety. And so when we understand the context in which a person is working, it helps us to understand what symptoms they may exhibit (my emphasis added).

Although the economic, social and cultural contexts of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing have found growing acknowledgement the academic literatures of rural health over recent years, farmers’ sense of place remains underrepresented and mostly overlooked as a mental health risk factor. However, as shown in this chapter, once we appreciate the deep emotional and psychological relationships farmers hold towards their farming properties, as well as the manner in which climatic change degrades the total health and vitality of farming landscapes, we can begin to better understand the full range of emotional and psychological risks posed by a rapidly changing climate. It is for this reason that concepts such as solastalgia, ecoanxiety and meteoranxiety are of use here, as they provide the conceptual tools for giving voice to the often overlooked consequences of the degradation of a home environment and its attendant negative impacts on the mental health and wellbeing of highly place-attached people. Though such negative psychoterratic states may not themselves constitute clinically-definable psychopathologies, such experiences are nevertheless detrimental to human wellbeing; and constant exposure to these negative emotional and psychological states (as part of a broader exposure to the breakdown in the health and vitality of the total farm environment) are likely to contribute to the development of more severe and clinically-understood psychological conditions (e.g. depression). It is for this reason that farmers’ sense of place cannot be ignored when addressing family farmers’ mental health and wellbeing, particularly in the context of chronic and negative environmental change.

Finally, in addition to eliciting forms of place-based distress such as those considered here, climate change may also interact with other socio-ecological drivers to undermine the very possibility of farming families developing and maintaining an endemic sense of place in the Wheatbelt. The next chapter considers how future climate change may impact upon the future evolutionary trajectory of the Wheatbelt SES and what implications this may have for farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing.

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Chapter 8: Out of place in a climate- changed world ______

8.1 Introduction It is perhaps axiomatic that people who harbour strong emotional and psychological attachments to place wish to remain in the places that they love and cherish (Adams, 2015). However, in the midst of intensifying anthropogenic climate change, places that are important for the sense of place of an individual or a group may lose their ecological vitality and economic viability and become increasingly inimical to human health wellbeing. Already, the Wheatbelt region harbours various forms of environmental degradation that are detrimental to the long-term environmental and economic sustainability of the region as well as to the mental health and wellbeing of its residents. Dryland salinity, wind erosion and generalised forms of environmental degradation are widespread ecological problems that negatively impact upon the socio-ecological resilience of the Wheatbelt region and the mental health and wellbeing of its residents (Rogan, O’Connor & Horwitz, 2005; Speldewinde et al., 2009). The looming prospect of worsening climate change (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015; IOCI, 2012; IPCC, 2014) therefore raises serious concerns regarding the continuing health and wellbeing of family farmers, their farmland, and the economic viability of ‘family farming’ in an already stressed socio-ecological system.

To this end, an important task for understanding future climate-health impacts is to investigate likely future system trajectories under intensifying climate change. Given the complexities and uncertainties of future climate change and its interconnected impacts on the health and vitality of people and places, health practitioners have increasingly recognised that ‘systems approaches’ to health offer a greater range of possibilities for the development and implementation of health interventions than traditional clinical approaches alone (Berry & Peel, 2015; Frumkin & McMichael, 2008). As discussed previously in this thesis, transdisciplinary systems approaches may offer richer and more effective insight into human-ecosystem health issues than those delivered by conventional disciplinary approaches due to their ability to engage with the cross-scale and cross-domain complexities of health.

In response, this chapter explores how future climate change trends are likely to drive the future evolutionary trajectory of the Wheatbelt SES and what implications this will have for

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farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing. To do so, the chapter begins by presenting a likely future evolutionary trajectory for the Wheatbelt SES under current policy settings in which personal and governmental responses to mounting climatic and economic risks continue to be informed by the logic of ‘neoliberal agriculture’. The implications of such a scenario for the future resilience of the Wheatbelt SES and the structure of family farming are considered. The following section then considers how farmers’ sense of place may help or hinder farmers’ ability to remain in their chosen places in the midst of intensifying climatic and economic risks, and how the very character of farmers’ sense of place may be shaped by changing socio-ecological conditions. The chapter then ends by exploring how family farmers cope (or do not cope) when confronted with the prospect of losing the family farm, and what financial and mental health counsellors can do to help ease farmers’ transition off the family farm.

The findings presented in this chapter offer insight into the socio-ecological complexities of future climate change and its impact on relationships between people and places in the Wheatbelt. In addition, this chapter also raises important questions regarding the logic of neoliberal agriculture and its ability to sustain human and ecosystem health into the future. These questions are discussed further in the next chapter.

8.2 The Wheatbelt in a climate-changed future A year can be a long time in agriculture. After skirting disaster during the 2013-14 season, a majority of Wheatbelt farmers went on to enjoy an average to above-average production year in the 2014-15 season (Andrews, 2015, January 8). Spurred on by two good production years and a growing awareness of emerging opportunities associated with the growth of Asian and middle-eastern markets, both the State Premier, Colin Barnett, and the State Agriculture Minister, Ken Baston, declared ‘a golden future’ lay ahead for Western Australian farmers (Andrews, 2014; Paddenburg, 2014, July 12). However, beyond the rhetoric, there appears to have been little attention given to how the Wheatbelt region will evolve, or how family farmers will be impacted, by future climate change. In response, and building on findings reported in Chapter 5, this section considers how the Wheatbelt SES is likely to be impacted by future climate change under current policy settings and to what extent family farming will continue as the region’s dominant mode of economic and social organisation.

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8.2.1 Drivers of future change

8.2.1.1 Climate change Climate models indicate that south-west Western Australia will become hotter, drier and increasingly prone to extreme weather events into the future (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015; IOCI, 2012). There is uncertainty about the degree to which these trends will play out into the future due to their contingency on future greenhouse gas emission scenarios. In response, reports such as CSIRO and BoM’s (2015) Climate Change in Australia and the IOCI’s (2012) Western Australia’s Weather and Climate use internationally-recognised greenhouse gas concentration scenarios35 to inform their projections of future climate change. When taken together, these reports provide valuable insights into climate change and its likely impacts on the Wheatbelt.

Projected winter rainfall and annual temperature trends under different greenhouse gas emission scenarios produced by CSIRO and BoM (2015) are reported below in Table 7. Projections for 2030 are derived from a composite of concentration scenarios, whereas projections for 2090 are derived from medium (RCP 4.5) and high (RCP 8.5) greenhouse gas scenarios respectively. All figures are relative to the simulated regional climate for the period 1986-2005. From these projections, it is evident that warming and drying trends are likely to intensify into the twenty-first century. Furthermore, models also predict that rainfall and temperature change will become increasingly contingent upon atmospheric greenhouse gas concentrations into the future.

Table 7. Climate Projections for Southwest Western Australia into the twenty-first Century under Different Emission Scenarios Climate Projections for Southwest Western Australia into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios Year (scenario) 2030 2090 (medium) 2090 (high)

Rainfall (winter) -15 % -30% -45%

Temperature (°C) +0.5 – +1.2 +1.1 – +2.1 +2.6 – +4.2

Source: CSIRO (2015). Data retrieved from: http://www.climatechangeinaustralia.gov.au/en/

Modelling conducted by the IOCI (2012) indicates that similar patterns of rainfall and temperature change are likely to occur throughout the region. Using downscaled climate models, the IOCI developed future climate change projections for specific locations throughout south-west Western Australia. Tables 8 and 9 below show projected changes in

35 Further information about emission scenarios can be found in the respective reports.

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annual rainfall and temperature respectively for Lake Grace, a rural community located 60 kilometres west of Newdegate. Given the close proximity of the two communities, these projections are assumed to be representative of Newdegate’s future climate under different emission scenarios. Projections indicate annual rainfall will decrease and temperatures (minimum and maximum) will increase throughout the twenty-first century in line with emission scenarios.

Table 8. Annual Rainfall (Millimetres) Projections for Lake Grace into the twenty-first Century under Different Emission Scenarios Annual Rainfall (Millimetres) Projections for Lake Grace into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios Emission Scenario Present Mid-Century End of Century (1962-1999) (2047-2064) (2082-2099) Low 300-330 270-320 Middle 360-380 250-340 200-290 High 270-320 210-280 Source: IOCI (2012, p. 46)

Table 9. Projected Mean Annual Maximum and Minimum Temperatures (°C) for Lake Grace into the twenty-first Century under Different Emission Scenarios Projected Mean Annual Maximum and Minimum Temperatures (°C) for Lake Grace into the Twenty-First Century under Different Emission Scenarios Emission Scenario Present Mid Century (high) End of Century (1962-1999) (2047-2064) (high) (2082-2099) Minimum 10.4 12.0 - 12.7 13.5 – 14.6 Maximum 23.1 24.4 – 25.7 25.4 – 27.5 Source: IOCI (2012, p. 53)

Projections indicate changes in seasonal rainfall and temperatures are likely to be modest in the short term (2030) but will be amplified significantly by the end of the century (2090), particularly under high greenhouse emission scenarios. In the short term, variability around the average rather than trends in the average will most likely present a greater concern to agricultural producers throughout most of southern Australia. According to CSIRO and BoM (2015), sources of climate variability will include:

• increased time spent in drought and a greater prevalence of ‘extreme’ drought conditions (high confidence);

• substantial increases in the temperature reached on hot days, the frequency of hot days, and the duration of warm spells (high confidence);

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• a decrease in the number of frost risk days (high confidence);

• increased evaporation (high confidence), increased winter solar radiation (high confidence) and decreased humidity (high confidence).36

It is important to note, however, that declining winter rainfall trends are projected to be particularly pronounced in the near term in south-west Western Australia (CSIRO & BoM, 2015). In an earlier report, Hennessy et al. (2008) projected that exceptionally low rainfall (in the period 2010 to 2040) and exceptionally low soil moisture levels37 (by 2030) will occur twice as often in most regions in Australia, and four times as often in south-west Western Australia under high emission scenarios. Therefore, without significant global action to mitigate greenhouse gas emissions, farmers throughout the Wheatbelt region are likely to encounter projected climate change trends sooner and at a faster rate than farmers in other areas in Australia.

8.2.1.2 Agricultural production (wheat yield) Climate change and amplified climatic variability presents complex risks for agricultural production in Australia’s broadacre regions. Considering that wheat is likely to continue as the region’s dominant crop into the foreseeable future, this discussion centres on wheat yields trends under changing climatic conditions. Table 10 on the next page presents findings from various studies that have simulated wheat yield trends under different climate change scenarios in the Wheatbelt. Broadly, the results of these simulations suggest:

• rising CO₂ concentrations will benefit future yields;38

• rising temperatures will either produce yield gains or significant yield declines depending on the sowing date as well as the timing and severity of extreme heatwave events;

• rainfall deficiencies will produce significant yield declines in dry areas but may produce yield improvements in wet areas;

36 “Confidence in a climate projection,” as explained by CSIRO & BoM (2015), “represents the authors’ assessment of its reliability. Confidence comes from multiple lines of evidence including physical theory, past climate changes and climate model simulations” (p. 88). 37 A 1 in 25 year event. Hennessey et al.’s (2008) modelling contributed to the abolition of the former Exceptional Circumstances (EC) Framework used to determine drought assistance. 38 Despite the potential for rising atmospheric concentrations of CO₂ to increase agricultural yields, a recent meta-analysis (Myers et al., 2014) reveals increased CO₂ levels diminishes the nutritional content of C₃ grains and legumes (wheat, rice, soybeans and field peas), thus presenting a major challenge to global public health.

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• complex interactions exist between CO₂, temperature, rainfall and soil type;

• yields will become increasingly variable; and

• future climate change will produce yield losses, some of which may be extremely severe.

It is clear from studies contained in Table 10 that it is difficult to predict with any degree of exactitude how changing climatic conditions will impact wheat production in the Wheatbelt. Changing rainfall patterns, temperature differences and rising atmospheric concentrations of CO₂ both individually and in combination have the potential to impact wheat yields in different ways and in a highly location-specific manner (Howden, Gifford, & Meinke, 2010). These same uncertainties are present in global projections of future wheat yield/production trends under climate change (Asseng et al., 2013). Furthermore, a major limitation of these models is their inability to factor in risks associated with future climate variability. As demonstrated in Chapter 5, extant variability around the mean (rainfall and temperature) and its associated impact on regional wheat yields has significantly undermined the financial positions of individual family farming enterprises as well as the resilience of the broader Wheatbelt SES. Amplified seasonal variability is likely to exacerbate negative impacts associated with changing average climate conditions.

Looking further forward, a significant question that remains to be answered is whether or not future climate change is likely to exceed biophysical thresholds for wheat production. As it currently stands, even during the 2010/11 season (the driest year on record) a majority of farmers were able to produce a crop despite some producers only receiving 100 millimetres of growing season rainfall. With advances in cultivar breeding and improved agronomic practices, there may be opportunities to further extend the biophysical thresholds for wheat production (Ghahramani et al., 2015; Ludwig & Asseng, 2010). However, if emission scenarios continue to track towards the higher end of projections, climate risks may emerge at a faster rate than the sector’s ability to develop new technologies or agronomic practices to mitigate them. If this occurs, broadacre agricultural production will no longer be viable in the affected regions. Already there is concern that areas along the north-eastern fringes are beginning to encounter limits to production as a result of drying and warming seasonal conditions (Bettles, 2014, February 25). It would therefore appear that climate change and its associated impacts on the biophysical limits to broadacre agricultural production are not a risk set in the distant future, but rather

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Table 10. Overview of Findings from Past Research Simulating Impacts of Future Climate Change on Wheat Yields in the Wheatbelt Overview of Findings from Past Research Simulating Impacts of Future Climate Change on Wheat Yields in the Wheatbelt Author/s Variables Findings (year) van Rainfall, CO₂ and temperature increases of up to 3°C will have Ittersum, temperature, CO₂, positive impact on yields. However, simulated yields Howden, soil type fell dramatically with decreased precipitation, and Asseng particularly on clay soils (up to 50 percent (2003) reductions).

Asseng et al. Rainfall and Simulated late sowing combined with late season (2004) temperature rainfall deficits and high temperatures reduced yields to less than 0.5 tonnes hectare (t/ha) in two locations in the Wheatbelt.

Ludwig and Rainfall, Heavy losses in yield potential are to be expected by Asseng temperature, CO₂, the end of the century in the north and north-eastern (2006) soil type Wheatbelt, particularly on clay soils. In the southwest, however, yield potential is expected to rise dramatically (particularly on lighter soils) as areas that were formerly too wet become ideal for wheat production.

Farre and Rainfall, Heavy yield losses (>20 percent) on clay soils in Foster temperature, CO₂, northern and north-eastern regions by mid-century. (2010) soil type Medium losses on clay soils over the same period through central regions (5 to 15 percent decreases). Yield gains in central-western regions (0 to 5 percent increase).

Asseng, Temperature Wheat yield is extremely sensitive to temperature Foster, and variations. Each additional day of temperatures above Turner 34°C during the grain-fill period will on average (2011) reduce grain yields by 5 percent. Extreme daily temperatures have the potential to reduce grain yields by up to 50 percent.

Potgieter et Rainfall and Negligible change in modelled yield relative to al. (2013) temperature baseline climate by 2020. However, for the 2050 high emission scenario, models revealed -5 percent to +6 percent change in yield from baseline throughout most of Western Australia.

Asseng and CO₂ 15-30 percent increase in yields by mid-century, with Pannell the greatest gains to occur in drier areas. (2013)

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constitute a clear and present danger for those farmers already located on the ‘margins of the good earth’ (Meinig, 1970).

8.2.1.3 Market conditions As foreshowed in the introduction to this section, the prospect of future market growth has led some in the agricultural community and Western Australia’s political ranks to declare that a ‘golden future’ awaits Western Australian farmers. Such claims are presumably informed by projections of market growth. Modelling conducted by Alexandratos and Bruinsma (2012) on behalf of the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) predicts a 60 percent growth in demand for agricultural products by 2050 relative to 2005-07 levels, with most of the growth in demand to come from the Asian region. A recent report by the Grains Industry of Western Australia (2014b) also indicates that demand for grains may increase by as much as 30 percent over the next decade to 2025. In the longer term, some estimates predict wheat prices may double by 2050, even without taking into account supply-side pressures associated with a changing climate (Nelson et al., 2009).

When looking at demand figures alone it would seem that Wheatbelt farmers are indeed well positioned to capitalise on the booming Middle Eastern and Asian markets. However, those who predict that a golden age for agriculture awaits not only tend to disregard future climate risks, they also tend to downplay three other major sources of market risk that have the potential to undermine the financial viability of Wheatbelt family farmers into the future. First, as demand for agricultural goods increase, farmers in the Wheatbelt will face increasing levels of competition from low-cost producers such as Brazil, Russia, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan (Future Directions International, 2013; Grain Industry Association of Western Australia, 2014b; Rabobank, 2015). Over recent years, these producers have been able to rapidly expand production and improve the quality of their products. This has led the Grain Industry of Western Australia to recognise that “participants in the Western Australian grains industry will need to focus on innovative ways to achieve a competitive edge if it is to take an increased share of global grain trade in the face of this intense competition” (2014 p. 10).39 Second, despite achieving significant efficiency gains over the last three decades (see Turner, 2011), Wheatbelt farming systems remain energy and input intensive relative to systems used in other parts of the world (Caper, 2014, February). Of

39 A recent report by the Australia Export Grains Innovation Centre (see White, Carter, & Kingwell, 2015) has shown historical trading competitor, Canada, has been able to improve grain productivity and supply chain efficiencies quicker and to a greater extent than Australia. Canada can now deliver grain into Asian markets at almost the same cost as Australia. Australia therefore currently gains little to no competitive advantage despite being geographically situated within the Asian region.

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particular concern is the sector’s continuing reliance on fossil fuels and non-renewable inputs, such as phosphorous. Although price increases are unlikely in the short-term (discounting rapid price spikes), growing demand and dwindling supplies of these resources may drive prices upwards over the longer term (Eadie & Stone, 2012), thereby weakening Wheatbelt farmers’ comparative advantage in global markets. Third, agricultural commodity markets are likely to become even more volatile into the future as extreme weather events and oil price volatility (amongst other factors) amplify global supply/demand imbalances (OECD/FAO, 2011). Considering 80 to 90 percent of the regions’ produce is sold on export markets (PricewaterhouseCoopers Australia, 2011), Wheatbelt farmers are likely to continue to be sensitively impacted by future market volatility.

In light of these trends, Eadie and Stone (2012) conclude that “higher prices for food and the escalating costs for farm inputs mean that countries with less fossil-fuel intensive agriculture will be better placed to gain from export opportunities. Greater food price volatility means that countries with more reliable agricultural production will benefit from the upside of high prices, while minimising the downside of low production due to poor weather.” (p. 14). Again, the core of this problem is whether Wheatbelt family farmers will be able to respond to changing market conditions fast enough to mitigate mounting market risks. Unless family farmers are able to transition to less energy and input intensive farm systems and become better able to guard against yield variability stemming from future climate change, market conditions are likely to become more adverse for Wheatbelt family producers into the future.

8.2.1.4 Agricultural policy It is uncertain how Australian agricultural policies will evolve into the future, particularly in light of changing climatic and economic conditions. However, in the short-term at least, there is very little evidence to suggest that Australia will forgo the tenets of neoliberal agriculture (i.e. deregulation, efficiency and self-reliance). For instance, recent support schemes introduced by the Federal Government to help family farmers endure economic and climatic adversity (such as the Farm Finance Concessional Loans Scheme and the Drought Concessional Loans Scheme) largely function to provide means for family farmers to find their own way back to financial health while doing little to address systemic risks associated with globalised free markets and the spectre of future climate change.40 In

40 It is particularly telling that only those farm businesses that can prove their ongoing ‘viability’ are eligible for such assistance schemes. This suggests that only those farmers who are able to demonstrate their competitive advantage will retain a legitimate call for government assistance and

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addition, pathways to future economic growth in the agricultural sector continue to be expressed in terms of efficiency improvement, cutting regulatory ‘red-tape’, and securing new trade agreements. This is clearly demonstrated in the recent Grains Industry of Western Australia (2014) report to the Western Australian State Government outlining various policy directives aimed at doubling the value of the agricultural industry by 2025, as well as the recent Agricultural Competitiveness White Paper (Commonwealth of Australia, 2015) which seeks to secure the competitiveness of Australia’s agricultural sector largely through measures that promote agricultural efficiencies and market capture. Furthermore, there is also evidence to suggest that farmers and grower groups will have to become increasingly self-reliant and globally competitive as State and Federal Governments continue to cut funding to agricultural departments41 and open-up agricultural lands to foreign investment (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2014, June 19).

For insight into how Australia’s agricultural policy may evolve into the future, it may be revealing to note how State and Federal Governments respond to the drought crisis currently gripping inland Queensland and New South Wales (see Mark, 2015, June 5; Robertson, 2015, May 13). After three consecutive years of drought, the socio-economic basis of the region has come under threat as rural businesses and farming enterprises have downscaled and destocked to prevent further losses. In response, $330 million dollars (Aus) was allocated in the 2015 Federal Budget to a drought relief package that included an extra $250 million in concessional loans to drought-stricken farmers, $35 million for ‘shovel- ready’ local infrastructure and employment projects, $26 million for the control of weeds and pests such as wild dogs, and an extra $20 million for social and community programs targeting mental health (Maher, 2015, May 9-10). The allocation of these funds were said to be “in the national interest” by the former Prime Minister, Tony Abbott, who went on to tell reporters that “it is critical these communities remain viable and that people stay in jobs so that they can take advantage of conditions when the drought breaks” (Maher, 2015, May 9-10). This would suggest that farmers and rural communities continue to be valued for more than their economic contribution to Australian society, and that family farmers - as a specific cultural group - have legitimate claim for government assistance. However, days after the announcement, the Bureau of Meteorology announced the

ultimately a place within Australian agriculture. Details of the respective schemes can be found at the Department of Agriculture website (www.agriculture.gov.au). 41 Over the previous decade, the Department of Agriculture and Food of Western Australia (DAFWA) has cut approximately 600 jobs and is looking to shed another 100 positions by the end of the 2015 financial year (Bolsenbroek, 2015, March 26).

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emergence of an El Niño event (Sturmer & Gribbin, 2015, May 13).42 If severe, El Niño is likely to push an already stressed SES further towards irreversible tipping points; and if such points are reached, the resulting crisis will reveal the extent to which Australian tax payers are willing to fund family farmers and rural communities located within in regions that may no longer be biophysically and economically tenable for agricultural production.

Considering it was the costs associated with the Millennium Drought that caused the ‘Exceptional Circumstances’ framework to be dismantled (Botterill, 2014, February 5), it is likely that current and future drought events will continue to shape Australia’s agricultural policies. However, it is also important to recognise that such policy responses are framed against the backdrop of broader global trends in economic and political thought. For as long as neoliberalism continues as the dominant paradigm for the organisation of global relations and economic trade (Harvey, 2005), neoliberalism will likely continue as the lens through which Australian economic and political leaders engage with the task of adapting Australia’s rural and regional areas to a changing climate. Therefore, despite the Australian Federal and State Governments adopting a “somewhat softer version of neoliberalism that recognises some of the limitations of the free-market” over the last decade (Tonts & McKenzie, 2005, p. 21), it is likely that deregulation, efficiency and self-reliance will continue to underpin Australian agricultural policy into the future.

8.2.2 A ‘business as usual’ scenario

8.2.2.1 Implications for the Wheatbelt socio-ecological system This brief discussion shows it is likely that the Wheatbelt SES will face persistent, if not mounting, external sources of environmental and economic stress. Intensifying anthropogenic climate change will continue to undermine the productivity and profitability of Wheatbelt family farmers both directly and indirectly via reductions in agricultural yields and interconnected market shocks. Uncertain energy markets and declining reserves of non-renewable inputs (e.g. phosphorous) will also pose unique challenges to agricultural producers who continue to be highly dependent on fossil fuels and other non-renewable resources (Eadie & Stone, 2012). Despite the forecast growth in demand for agricultural

42 El Niño is the warm phase of the El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO), a naturally-occurring climate cycle that operates in the Pacific Ocean. El Niño (and its counterpart La Nina) cause major shifts in weather patterns across the Pacific. In eastern Australia, El Niño is associated with a higher prevalence of drought, warm temperatures, and bushfire weather (Bureau of Meteorology, 2011). Recent modelling suggests the frequency of extreme El Niño events may double into the future (Cai et al., 2014). The authors conclude: “With a projected large increase in extreme El Niño occurrences, we should expect more occurrences of devastating weather events, which will have pronounced implications for twenty-first century climate” (p. 115).

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goods, expanding global competition will also place substantial stress on those individual farmers and agricultural regions that cannot retain their relative competitiveness. Faced with these conditions, it will be the manner in which the Wheatbelt SES responds to mounting environmental and economic risks that will influence its future resilience as well as the resilience of individual family farming enterprises.

Currently, the improvement of agricultural efficiency is employed by farmers and promoted by government and industry groups as the predominant strategy for mitigating mounting climatic and economic risks. The pursuit of agricultural efficiencies has been the cornerstone of Australian agricultural policy since the 1980s (Pritchard, 2005a, 2005b; Smith & Pritchard, 2015) and there is very little evidence to suggest that an alternative course of action will usurp the ‘efficiency mantra’ any time soon. As discussed in Chapter 5, in response to this policy environment, farmers have attempted to mitigate climate and market risks over the last couple of decades by improving their technical and scale efficiencies. While agricultural production boomed as a result, these investments also exposed many family farming enterprises to a heightened degree of risk as capital requirements rose, debt levels soared, and production volatility (and therefore revenue volatility) skyrocketed. An overarching concern with efficiency improvement can be dangerous from the perspective of sustaining socio-ecological resilience, as it usually entails stripping the system’s capacity for self-organisation, innovation, and flexibility (Walker & Salt, 2006). Indeed, it was the removal of these capacities that contributed to the near-crisis of the 2013-14 season.

In the future, if biophysical and economic thresholds to production contract further, it is likely that family farmers will be compelled by market forces to become even more efficient. A majority of family farmers in the Wheatbelt have already moved towards higher-efficiency machinery and agronomic packages in response to the heightened climatic and market risks experienced in the 2000s (Kingwell et al., 2013). However, a continuing reliance upon efficiency improvement as the primary means to mitigate environmental and economic risk is likely to deliver diminishing rates of return if external sources of risk escalate, internal sources of resilience are removed, and the natural resource base further degrades (Walker & Salt, 2006).

As these trends play out, an increasing number of family farmers may begin to encounter limits to broadacre production. It is at this point, where there are no more efficiency gains to be made, costs to be cut, or methods for extending one’s profitability, that the

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Wheatbelt SES becomes highly susceptible to critical tipping points. Given the projected volatility of future climate and market conditions, these points may be encountered suddenly and unexpectedly, forcing abrupt structural changes to occur within the Wheatbelt SES.

In the language of complex adaptive systems, it is likely that the Wheatbelt SES will remain in the very late stages of the conservation phase of the adaptive cycle. Therefore, the system will remain in a state of precarious state (Walker et al., 2004), susceptible to being ‘pushed’ beyond critical thresholds and into uncertain and unknown future trajectories.43 Although favourable climatic and market conditions may temporarily move the system away from the brink of such critical tipping points, without significant transformation it is perhaps inevitable that the Wheatbelt SES will eventually cross a critical threshold and transition into an uncertain future.

8.2.2.2 Implications for ‘family farming’ How will a ‘business as usual’ scenario impact family farming in the Wheatbelt? In the pursuit of further scale and technical efficiencies, farm sizes are likely to increase and agricultural production even more capital intensive as smart technologies become further embedded within agronomic and management practices (R. Kingwell, personal communication, 2014, March 19). As a result, managerial complexity will rise as will overhead costs. Given the growing costs and complexities associated with broadacre farming, this may further prevent new family farmers from entering the market. The intergenerational transfer of family farms may also be further disrupted into the future as family farming struggles to maintain its image as an attractive career option for the next generation (Barr, 2014).

With regard to the changing structure of family farming, representatives from both AEGIC and WA Farmers envisioned a future in which there would be greater separation between farmers’ place of residence and the farming property. As smaller rural communities

43 Not all areas within the Wheatbelt SES will be affected equally. From the perspective of agricultural production, if future climate trends unfold without a great deal of seasonal variability then it will be the low-rainfall areas of the north and north-eastern Wheatbelt that will first bear the brunt of the pressures associated with contracting biophysical and economic thresholds to production. As regional isohyets shift towards the south-west, it will be these regions that will be engulfed by the deserts on their borders. In contrast, areas currently too wet will become increasingly suitable for wheat production and, assuming the continued profitability of wheat, more profitable. However, if the level of seasonal variability seen in the 2000s continues or escalates, producers throughout the region will continue to be at risk, as untimely rainfall, drought, temperature variability and extreme weather events undermine even the best efforts of farmers to curtail climate risks.

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experience further decline, families may opt to relocate to larger rural centres and to commute to the farm, thus becoming so-called ‘drive in-drive out farmers.’ From informal conversations with rural community members, it would appear that a growing number of family farmers have already taken this step. Looking forward, key informants also hypothesised the emergence of ‘fly in-fly out’ farming communities. However, whether the economic returns from broadacre farming could ever sustain such a model of family farming is highly questionable, particularly in the near term.

A continuing focus on efficiency improvement may also transform the very structure of traditional ‘family farming’ and lessen its position as the dominant mode of economic and social order in the region. Key informants spoke of the emergence of ‘family corporates.’44 In such arrangements, a single family may own several farms, which are then consolidated under the umbrella of a single family farming enterprise. Owing to its large size, the family farm, though still owned and operated by a single farming family, takes on corporate characteristics as managerial tasks become delegated, outsourced expertise is sought, machinery leased and farm work tendered out to hired labour. Again, there are already various examples of family corporates operating throughout the Wheatbelt and, given the likelihood of expanding farm sizes and growing capital requirements for profitable broadacre agriculture, ‘family corporates’ are likely to become more prevalent into the future.45

In addition to these possibilities, key informants also predicted that there will be a greater degree of separation between the land ownership and land management components of family farming enterprises into the future. As explained by an AEGIC representative, as the capital requirements for broadacre farming rise and the complexities accompanying scale efficiencies increase, family farmers may seek third party investment to sustain their operations. In such cases, the land would be owned by a third-party investor (most likely a

44 Dale Park of WA Farmers on ‘family corporates’: “So now we've got a situation within the industry where we've got what I call ‘family corporates’, almost. They are pretty big enterprises, but they are family-owned. They will probably only have anything up to three or four permanent employees and that includes a couple of the owners. But they will bring staff in for the peak times, so seeding and harvest will be a big influx, so they might employ five permanents and they will bring another 10 to 15 in those really peak periods, so it's a real change of how country WA is structured, which is going through a hell of a change at the moment” (Murphy, 2014, April 5). 45 The number of ‘family-corporates’ and ‘corporate-corporates’ operating in Australia grew by 55 percent between 2001 and 2006 (Clark, 2008 as cited in Greijdanus & Kragt, 2014) and by another 44 percent between 2006 and 2011 (Greijdanus & Kragt, 2014). Corporate farms now make up 1.8 percent of all Australian farms (Muenstermann, 2013). According to Greijdanus and Kragt “it is expected that the number of corporate enterprises will continue to increase in the future, mainly in the cropping industry” (p. 48).

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superannuation company seeking low but stable returns) and leased to the family farmer who then effectively assumes the role of ‘farm manager’.

At this end of the farm ownership spectrum, in which there is complete separation between the land ownership and land management enterprises, and in which the farm manager has no family ties to the land they work, the farm may become part of a traditional corporate enterprise. Although not as structurally efficient as traditional family farming enterprises (D. Park, personal communication, 2014, March 27), corporates have natural advantages over traditional family farming arrangements due to their ability to raise greater amounts of capital to invest in technical and scale efficiencies. Again, as farm sizes expand and capital requirements increase, this leaves these so-called ‘corporate- corporates’ well positioned to expand their holdings into the future.46

8.2.3 Summary and conclusions It can be concluded from this discussion that the Wheatbelt SES will continue to be transformed by anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change into the future. In this ‘business as usual scenario,’ unfolding climate change trends will continue to erode the environmental, economic and social basis of family farming in the Wheatbelt. From a systems perspective, the resilience of the Wheatbelt SES may degrade further into the future as sources of novelty and redundancy are removed in the attempt to further ‘improve’ agricultural efficiencies. Moreover, as a consequence of contracting environmental and economic thresholds to production and mounting sources of instability (e.g. intensifying seasonal variability and increased market volatility), the Wheatbelt SES is likely to be driven towards another near crisis point such as the one seen in the 2013-14 season. However, due to the Wheatbelts’ increasing exposure and vulnerability to climatic and economic risks, as well as the intensifying nature of these risks, emerging ‘tipping points’ within the Wheatbelt SES are likely to be encountered more frequently in the future. Thus, without intervention, it is perhaps inevitable that the Wheatbelt SES will be driven beyond a critical threshold and into a new and uncertain future.

46 While the current amount of land run by corporate farmers is a tiny fraction of the total (D. Park, personal communication), it is perhaps revealing of future trends that corporate purchases accounted for more than 50 percent of the total farm land value traded between late 2014 and early 2015 (Henderson, 2015, Jan 2). In the same article, Henderson also presents evidence to suggest that corporates have been looking to consolidate their holdings in areas of high rainfall. If land prices continue to rise and rainfall patterns continue to shift towards the south-west, it is not outside the realm of possibility to envisage a future in which corporate or family-corporate farms come to dominate the remaining areas of high rainfall, thereby pushing traditional family farming enterprises into more marginal areas.

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With regard to the future of family farming, farm amalgamation trends are set to continue as farmers look to further capitalise on scale and technical efficiencies in the attempt to mitigate mounting climatic and economic risks. As a result, it is likely that a growing number of family farmers will be forced out of the sector as the very structure of family farming, along with economic and social order of the Wheatbelt, is transformed. Findings indicate that family farming will become increasingly ‘corporate’ in the future as family farmers are faced with an operating environment that will force a growing separation between the home and work environments as well as a greater separation between the farm-management and land-ownership aspects of the family farming enterprise. In addition, these same conditions will also lead to a greater prevalence of ‘corporate- corporates’ entering into the Wheatbelt market. As a result, the rural population will continue to diminish as family farmers are replaced by farm managers and labour substituted for smart technologies. This will place further strain on already stressed rural communities struggling to retain enough residents to sustain vital services.

Observing similar trends in the Wheatbelt, Gaynor (2015) states that a central question for Wheatbelt communities is whether they have “sufficient capacity to transition to more sustainable production models and develop the social sustainability required to address the challenges ahead” (p. 180). As it currently stands, there is little evidence to indicate that they do. Furthermore, given the government’s continuing proclivity for ‘neoliberal agriculture’, it may well be that rural communities and family farming (as they are currently structured) will be ‘rationalised’ out of existence. So while some may declare that a golden future lies ahead for the Wheatbelt, it is important to ask to whom this applies, as it would appear from this analysis that the future for many family farmers looks anything but ‘golden’.

Given the non-linear dynamics of anthropogenic climatic change, however, and the unexpected and surprising ways it will interact with other socio-ecological drivers, it is also important to recognise that the scenario described above is one among many that may unfold. As such, the scenario presented here should not be thought of as a definitive or conclusive account of the future, but rather as a tool that facilitates critical reflection upon the potential risks to people and places associated with future climate change; the normative assumptions guiding adaptation; and the type of future we, as a society, want for family farmers and our Wheatbelt region. These themes are addressed further from a policy perspective in Chapter 9.

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The remainder of this chapter examines three themes related to the future scenario previously described. The first theme explores how farmers’ sense of place may impact their resilience or vulnerability to future climate change risks, with particular emphasis on their mental health and wellbeing. The second theme considers how family farmers’ sense of place may evolve in response to the anticipated changes in the structure of the Wheatbelt SES. The third theme examines the potential mental health risks to farmers who lose their farms and what rural health workers and counsellors can do to ease farmers’ transitions off the family farm.

8.3 Sense of place: a source of resilience or vulnerability? There remains a desire within Australian society “to keep families on the farm as the cornerstone of agriculture” (Commonwealth of Australia, 2015, p. 1). To do so, however, there is a pressing need to understand the factors that promote or diminish farmers’ individual capacities to adapt to changing environmental, economic and social circumstances. Climate change adaptation is a complex process, contingent upon various global-to-local environmental, social and economic factors. However, more than simply being an economic or technical issue, climate change adaptation is increasingly understood as a process that is contingent upon subjective meanings and values, particularly as they relate to place (Adger et al., 2013; Adger et al., 2011a; Adger et al., 2009; O'Brien, 2010; O'Brien & Wolf, 2010). This discussion examines how farmers’ emotional and psychological relationships to place may inform their adaptive capacity and mental wellbeing when faced with future climatic and economic adversity.

In speaking with community members and key informant participants, it appears that farmers’ sense of place is perceived to enhance their adaptive capacity and personal resilience to adversity. However, and somewhat paradoxically, participants also indicated that farmers’ emotional and psychological connectedness to their land may also constrain their ability to adequately respond to climate and economic adversity, and to exacerbate their vulnerability to climate-related mental health risks. Beginning with the former sentiment, farmers with a strong sense of place were perceived to be prepared to endure a greater degree of hardship than those without such connections to place for the purpose of remaining on the family farm:

I think if you just saw your land and your farm just from a business perspective and you didn’t have that attachment to it, then you might be more inclined to go ‘let’s just get out of here’ and go somewhere better - go somewhere else.

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Whereas if you really had that sense of connection and place and you were there and you understood you were there for a reason more than just for business, you might be more inclined to really hang in there - it might cause you to be more resilient (OL, R3).

Willingness to endure hardship! If you’re not connected to it, or you don’t own it, you get out; and it is a lot easier to get out, which is often the more sensible thing to do [laughs]. There wouldn’t be farmers around if they didn’t have that though because, I mean, a hard year you just get out and you would have done it years ago (TM, R3).

With the people that don’t have an emotional connection with their farm, it comes down to finance at bit too doesn’t it? I suppose they get to a point where there’s no money in it so they’re out. Whereas someone with an emotional connection, they can put up with a bit of financial pressure because they know it will come good in a few years or whatever. It’s not so much of a business decision; it’s more of a sense of place decision or something like that I suppose. For example, these corporate farms, if they’re not getting a return on their money, they’ll be out because the money might be better off somewhere else. Whereas a family farm will probably be more likely to stick it out for a couple of years and see how things go (WY, R3).

We can also infer from the comments above that farmers’ sense of place provides them an alternative system of valuation other than that captured by economic rationalism and its adherence to instrumental values to form judgements and make decisions. Values other than those related to profit maximisation have been recognised by others as powerful determinants of family farmers’ decision-making (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Hansen & Greve, 2014; Kuehne & Bjornlund, 2011; Vanclay, 2004). It is because family farmers are motivated to retain their intrinsically valuable relationships to place that some are willing to make decisions to remain on their properties that, from a purely economic rationalist perspective, would seem irrational or counter-intuitive. Indeed, from the perspective of the Expert Social Panel Inquiry into Dryness (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008), there is a clear tension between the economic rationalist assumptions guiding Australian agricultural policy and the decision-making of some family farmers:

Recent agricultural adjustment policy has largely assumed that if farmers and their families are not making an adequate living from farming, their rational, ‘business-like’ course of action is to pursue alternative livelihoods. This

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means rural people are often seen to be battling on despite what appears to be good business judgement. One of the revelations for the Panel was that for many who identified themselves as third and fourth generation farmers at public forums, there is an intrinsic value to farming as a way of life and some are unwilling to accept, or simply to operate within, a business-framed model (p. 11).

Navigating the instrumental and intrinsic values of place is a vexed issue for family farmers who wish to retain their valued connections to the family farming property but find themselves in an untenable financial position. On the one hand, as will be demonstrated later in this chapter, leaving the family farm can be a deeply traumatic experience for deeply place-attached farmers, as leaving or losing the farm is seen to be the epitome of personal failure. However, on the other hand, staying on the farm when there is no hope of financial recovery is perhaps, equally, if not more, detrimental to farmers’ personal mental health and their family relationships in the longer term.

It is because the farm is valued as more than simply a ‘business’ that some farmers are willing to put themselves in positions of extreme emotional and financial distress in the attempt to retain their valued connections to place (Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008). This was an observation made by several key informants whose dealings with family farmers facing extreme financial hardship led them to believe that farmers’ emotional and psychological connections to their land inhibited their capacity to make ‘rational’ business decisions, particularly if exiting the farm was the only option afforded to them:

I suspect if you had a balance sheet and the history of reducing equity and it was maybe a deli or some place that was completely disconnected from where you lived, I suspect some of the decisions around the time to exit or the time to have a significant restructure wouldn’t be clouded by emotion. Where that land is attached to sense of place/sense of family history/place in community - those decisions seem to be very much avoided because the pain of making those decisions is so great […] And in some ways, in some families you see almost a shutting down emotionally, where to face up to that decision is almost more than what people can bear (financial counsellor, RFCSWA).

But that’s made the adjustment all the harder because you’ve got that attachment. It’s not purely attachment to the land, but it is a big part of it. The other part of it is that

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if you’re seen to have to sell up it’s a sign of failure, especially if that farm has been in the family for generations. But then they’ve got a real attachment to the land, but that attachment to the land really does cloud their view on probably when they should make some pretty serious financial decisions - as in selling up (representative of WA Farmers).

Consistent with, and in addition to, the Expert Social Panel’s findings, QY also observed that family farmers’ deep emotional and psychological attachments to their farming properties may also exacerbate their vulnerability to the mental health risks associated with climatic and economic adversity. As QY describes below (and as discussed in Chapters 6 and 7), the degradation of the farming environment may elicit detrimental mental health outcomes for family farmers whose identities are tightly bound to the physical and financial performance of their farm properties. In addition, the desire to maintain a sense of place may also cause some farmers to put the needs of the farm in front of concerns for their own personal wellbeing and family relationships, often with deleterious results:

(interviewer) Do you think farmers with strong emotional connections are more or less resilient in the face of seasonal adversity than farmers who don’t have those?

(QY) Less resilient I’d say because it’s gets them down so much. If you’ve got that real strong emotional connection with [the farm], part of your wellbeing is tied up to how good your farm looks. And then when you’re having a shit run your farm looks bad, so your emotional wellbeing is already falling quite fast. You can sort of see what I mean: the people in Perth who have that beautiful front yard and that is part of … their persona is ‘I’m a nice front yard person’. And say if they got sick for a week and their front yard died, you could imagine that they’d walk out: ‘fuck - got to start from scratch again.’ And it’s just makes everything uphill. Well, that’s my thought. And when you’re emotionally connected it’s just harder to make good business decisions because you’re sort of getting that negative mindset. That’s, what do you call it? State- dependent memory? Where if you’re feeling negative you can only remember bad things and all that sort of stuff? And all the bad things seem actually worse than what they were.

(interviewer) Do you think these farmers with strong emotional connections are more willing to endure hardship than those who don’t?

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(QY) Yeah. They’ll stay there for longer.

(Interviewer) Do you see it where sometimes these strong attachments or connections are actually barriers to making decisions that would have actually been better for their wellbeing?

(QY) Oh definitely. Easily. There is times where people should have, for their family’s good or their own wellbeing, they should have just sold or they should have bit back their management style - change something majorly to give themselves more time or just let them get in front.

From QY’s comments we can see how farmers’ sense of place, place identity, adaptive capacity and decision-making may interact during times of severe adversity to elicit negative health outcomes for individual farmers and the broader farming family. When faced with such conditions, farmers’ sense of place may undermine their ability to take the necessary steps to address their situation. Furthermore, farmers’ wellbeing and familial relationships may also suffer as farmers seek to hold onto the farming property ‘at any cost.’

Essentially, we are left contemplating a dichotomy in which farmers’ sense of place may promote personal resilience or vulnerability depending on the scale and severity of the adversity faced47. Representatives of the Rural Financial Counselling Service of Western Australia and the Australian Export Grains Innovation Centre expressed the nature of this dichotomy succinctly:

It depends how large the wave is that is coming at them. So they’re more resilient because they can ride out a significant storm, but they are actually weaker if the storm is going to swamp the boat. In a sense, they’ll stay there and they’ll hang out and they’ll battle it … But if the actual storm is too big and they should have retreated and restructured and refocused - set the business up somewhere else - they’re often too late to do that I would think (representative of the RFCSWA).

It [farmers’ sense of place] can either be a millstone or a blessing. A blessing in the sense that it gives huge motivation for people to work hard and do their best; so people invest more time and energy than they otherwise

47 Further research is likely to uncover additional complexities regarding relationships between an individual’s sense of place and their adaptive capacity. Indeed, the simple dichotomy presented here is only a start to describe how place-relationships influence adaptive capacity, as well as personal resilience and vulnerability.

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would if they didn’t have that connection. The flipside, however, is that sometimes that energy and that emotion would be better spent elsewhere and it comes at a huge psychological or financial cost. So they become blinded by guilt or emotion and they make business decisions that they regret or should not make because they are driven by guilt or emotion (representative of AEGIC).

These latter comments are concerning, as there is an increasing amount of speculation within the research community that some of Australia’s farming regions will not be viable under a warmer, drier and more variable climate. In these cases, there is discussion to how best engage in the ‘transformational adaptation’ of the agricultural sector (Marshall et al., 2013a; Marshall et al., 2012; Rickards & Howden, 2012). Transformational adaptation speaks to the notion of fundamentally altering the structure of an agricultural SES so it is better able to evolve with a changing set of external circumstances (Adger, Brown, & Waters, 2011b). One of the ways this may be achieved is by relocating agricultural activities to more conducive environments (Rickards & Howden, 2012). However, in several studies exploring Australian peanut farmers’ transformational capacity, results suggest place attachment is likely to inhibit farmers’ willingness or capacity to engage in transformational adaptation, particularly if relocation is a required part of the adaptation process (Marshall et al., 2012; Marshall et al., 2013). The degree to which such findings can be extrapolated to family farmers in other agricultural sectors is unknown. However, given that in coming years there is potential for environmental and economic thresholds to production to contract faster than farmers’ ability to counteract them, there is a ‘significant’ likelihood that planned resettlement and migration will be part of the Australian agricultural experience (Marshall et al., 2012). The challenge will be for planners to accommodate the necessities of socio-ecological transformation while also being careful not to cause great emotional and psychological distress amongst those who wish to retain their valued connections to their places.

8.4 A changing sense of place? From the findings presented in the last section, it is likely that farmers’ sense of place will continue to be a source of personal resilience and vulnerability for farmers confronted with a climate-changed future. However, it is also important to recognise that a sense of place is not a fixed entity. Just as places change over time, so too an individual’s or a group’s sense of place may evolve in response to changing personal circumstances and shifting environmental, economic and social contexts. This section considers how farmers’ sense of place may change in the future as farmers seek to adapt to a climate-changed future.

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While neoliberalism continues to be the dominant ideological platform for Australia’s agricultural policy, farmers will continue to be urged to mitigate future environmental and economic risks by improving their agricultural efficiencies and thus bettering their competitiveness in a globalised market-place. Though this may seem to be simply a technical or economic task, it is also important to recognise that this policy directive is driving a particular set of values and assumptions. It is argued here that the current neoliberal-informed policy context champions market-based economic valuations over all other systems of value (Giroux, 2014; Harvey, 2005). Values such as those related to the intrinsic, symbolic and emotional values of place are omitted or disregarded entirely in the current policy paradigm (see Adger et al., 2011a). The market-related values encapsulated in Australian agricultural policy are by no means shared globally. For instance, while competitors such as the European Union have recognised the ‘multifunctionality’ of agriculture48, Australia continues to hold onto a ‘hyper-productivist’ (Dibden & Cocklin, 2005, p. 136) conception of agriculture in which it is assumed that “family farming should persist only to the extent that it is sustained by the market” (Pritchard, 2005b, p. 5).

In the future, assuming the validity of the ‘business as usual’ scenario presented in this chapter, if Wheatbelt family farmers are to continue living and working upon their own properties, then it is likely they will be required to adapt their farms, their farming practices, and the way they relate to the farm to be better able to meet the demands associated with a climate-changed, hyper-productivist agriculture. There is evidence to suggest the culture of family farming has already started to respond to these pressures.

From the mid-2000s onwards, a high percentage of family farmers have adopted new technological, management and finance tools to mitigate heightened levels of climatic and economic risk (Kingwell et al., 2013). While such strategies are evidence of technological and economic adaptation to changing conditions, they are also representative of a shift towards a more ‘business-centred’ approach to family farming. As described in comments provided by SY below, contracting climatic and economic margins to production over

48 Multifunctional agriculture is a term used to indicate, in a general sense, that agriculture can produce various non-commodity outputs in addition to food. According to the OECD (2001), multifunctional agriculture recognises “(i) the existence of multiple commodity and non-commodity outputs that are jointly produced by agriculture; and that (ii) some of the non-commodity outputs may exhibit the characteristics of externalities or public goods, such that markets for these goods function poorly or are non-existent.” As a policy directive, Dibden et al. (2009) writes “the term ‘multifunctionality’ has become a form of international shorthand for those contesting the political and spatial rationalities of the neoliberal project for agriculture, bringing together a number of complex assumptions concerning the role of agriculture beyond the production of food and fibre, and the responsibility of governments in underpinning this role” (p. 300).

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recent years have fundamentally changed the way in which some family farmers approach their on-farm decision-making:

(interviewer) […] do you think your view of the farm is more or less business orientated than previous generations?

(SY) Yep.

(interviewer) And what’s promoted this?

(SY) Necessity. A run of tight years without those buffering average to above average years in between. There’s less flexibility in making decisions based purely on emotion. There needs to be a dollar driver. […] So whether we go bigger or stay smaller, it’s dollar-driven - business-driven. It’s what makes good business sense at the end of the day.

(interviewer) And so with [the previous] generation, was it the softer seasons that afforded more of an emotional or less business orientated …

(SY) Yep […] Softer seasons, but different market dynamics at the time as well. So it is that whole picture and time frame. I don’t think you could do what they did now, and I don’t think you could do what we do now then. Even though you’re dealing with the same enterprise you are still kind of comparing apples and pears rather than apples and apples (R3).

A similar perspective was offered by QY:

(QY) There was always an opportunity for it to be just a business. But yeah, it is getting more and more that way.

(interviewer) What is driving that?

(QY) Margins. As margins tighten up … you can run it like a ‘hippy-ville’ if you had heaps of money. […] Say we were getting $500 a tonne for wheat; we’d all be rich. It’s just that easy. It wouldn’t matter about the rain or anything - unproductive land is profitable at that margin.

Driven by economic necessity, farmers’ decision-making has arguably become more ‘dollar driven’ as farmers struggle to maintain their financial viability amid an operating environment increasingly inimical to family farming modes of agricultural and social organisation. This is similar to the results published by Bryant (1999) who found farmers’ identities had become ‘detraditionalised’ by the forces unleashed by the neoliberal-

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inspired reconstruction of rural Australia. By this, Bryant notes that farmers increasingly saw themselves as ‘business managers’ rather than ‘traditional family farmers.’ However, it is unclear in Bryant’s study whether this also resulted in any changes in the strength or character of farmers’ sense of place.

As biophysical and economic margins to production continue to contract into the future and the policy/market environments require farmers become ever more efficient, further cultural changes may be required of family farmers if they are to survive the challenges of the twenty-first century. As discussed previously in this chapter, family farmers may have to consider introducing a greater amount of separation between the home and work environments, as well as a greater separation between the land ownership and land management aspects of the family farming enterprise. Both courses of action pose challenges to those family farmers whose sense of place is deeply rooted in living and working upon the land that they own, and for whom the consubstantiation of the home and work environments is a vital part of the endemic sense of place.

Insight into how some family farmers have been able to negotiate these issues is provided by Cheshire, Meurk, and Woods (2013) who examined how a group of highly mobile and business-orientated farmers (termed ‘globally-engaged’ farmers by the authors) negotiated tensions between attachment to the farm and the mobility demands of modern agriculture. Findings from their study indicate that globally-engaged farmers are able to decouple their attachments to the farm as a place, an occupation and as a business, and recombine them in ways that allow them to maintain an emotional closeness to the farm in different contexts and under different circumstances. For example, the authors reveal the family farming property continues to resonate emotionally for globally-engaged farmers, even in situations where the family farm comprises only a small part of the total farming enterprise, and in cases where the farming family no longer lives upon the farm property. As the authors observe: “Indeed, even more powerful than physical presence were genealogical ties that connected even the most mobile and urban-orientated farmers back to a place that was intricately tied up with family history” (Cheshire et al., 2013 p. 70). This was a sentiment echoed by a representative of AEGIC who predicted that family farmers will continue to feel a ‘huge emotional legacy, so that there will still be that commitment to certain parcels of land because of the historic intergenerational legacy’ despite there being a ‘greater separation of the family life to the farm life.’ It is likely that even within family-

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corporate enterprises, these parcels of land will be retained by family farmers as the centre of their enterprise structures:

[…] I suspect there may always be a home block that is almost religiously retained for family heritage reasons - that is almost sacrosanct. But there will be other parts of the businesses that are managed, bought, and sold and whatever. But I think for reasons of generational history and admiration that there will always be a strong connection to certain parcels of land (representative of AEGIC).

Despite growing pressures to become more ‘business-like’ in their approach to the farm, farmers are likely to retain some sense of emotional connection to the land they own and operate, particularly if part or all of the land contained within the expanded enterprise was formally part of the original family farming property. However, it is not clear in Cheshire et al.’s (2013) study how the separation of the home and work environment impacts farmers’ feelings about their farming properties or the strength of their emotional attachment to their land. As demonstrated in Chapter 6, family farmers in this research perceived the farm environment to be a place of home and work, the boundaries of which blur and overlap as part of the total farm property. By living on the farm, individuals also naturally spend more time within its boundaries than otherwise would be case if the living environment was located somewhere other than the farm. If the living environment were to become separated from the farm environment, it is difficult to envisage how the farm could be regarded as ‘home’ or how individuals could spend as much time within its boundaries. So while farmers involved in family-corporate enterprises may retain a strong connection to the farm due to their sense of family heritage, if the home environment is separated from the farm environment, then individuals participating in family-corporate enterprises may have a weaker and less complex sense of place than the farmers interviewed in this study. Further research is needed to test this contention.

In addition, the future evolution of the Wheatbelt SES is also likely to drive a greater amount of separation between the ‘land ownership’ and the ‘land management’ aspects of the family farming enterprise. As a result, it is likely that a growing percentage of family farmers will become ‘farm managers’ who manage the land on the behalf of someone else. Though farm managers were not interviewed as part of this research, it is clear from findings presented in Chapter 6 that current family farmers perceive farm managers to feel little emotional connection to the land they work. Participants generally assumed this to be

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the case because farm managers do not own their land and were perceived to have little control over their management decisions. Indeed, ownership of the land was viewed by some to be a vital prerequisite for allowing farmers to develop strong emotional bonds to the farm and, ultimately, to allow them to ‘fall in love with their land’ (DY, R3).

Interestingly, there appears to be an implicit assumption within the broader agricultural community that family farmers who have lost their farming properties will be able to transition comfortably into a farm manager role. However, as discussed by a representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative, the remnant attachments farmers feel towards their lost properties may inhibit their successful transition from ‘family farmer’ to ‘farming manager’:

Then if they’re off the farm where do they go? Another example of that is a bloke who had to get off his farm. He’s got six boys and he was forced to move off his property. He owed thirteen million. So he went and he now lives in [name omitted] just going up the hill. Hates it. And he started to work for a farmer as a farm hand, but he couldn’t hack it because it wasn’t his farm. He just couldn’t work it because he was spreading super [phosphate] on this other farmer’s property that he knows, but he used to do the same thing when it was his farm. He found it really difficult to suddenly not be spreading super on his place and working for someone else spreading super on their place […] So that was a huge change for him and he’s gone away from that. And I was interested because I would have thought that that would be … for a farmer to do a similar job as he was doing would be better than not farming. So when he told me that I was quite interested, because I can see that someone who is so in touch with his property and his farm and what he has been doing there for years, to suddenly have to work for someone else and he has no attachment to that land … I was surprised for him to say that he couldn’t do it.

[…]

(interviewer) I wonder if by being on someone else’s land either it made it meaningless, or if it was reaffirmation of his sense of failure?

Both. And, as I said, I found that really interesting because I would have thought most farmers would like to continue to do what they’re doing. But I think really when they have had such attachment to their farm - they’ve done all of their improvements; they’ve gone through the hardships;

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they’ve gone through the good times and all the bad things - that it must be really hard to go and work for someone else. There is no attachment anymore. Sure there is a lifestyle component, but I wonder whether is it the lifestyle or is it that you’re actually working towards something on your place and that’s been your whole life, and then you go and work on someone else’s place who they’re enjoying that - that person you’re working for- but you’ve just become insignificant really other than the fact you’re a farmhand doing it to help them to get to where they want to be. And I think that must be a big come down. So a good question to ask: what would be the majority that would be happy to go work on a farm for the lifestyle, or would you be unhappy knowing that you’re not contributing to something that you’ve contributed your whole life to now you’re working for someone else (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative)

From the example provided above it would seem that for some ex-family farmers the inability to farm their own land renders the act of farming for someone else too difficult to bear. In such instances, it is not so much the ‘farming lifestyle’ that is important for family farmers; rather, it is the farming property and the way it is integrated into the individual’s personal aspirations that gives farming its meaning and significance. For this particular individual, without their land, farming had lost its significance and value. In addition, it is also clear that becoming a ‘farmhand’ only served to reinforce their sense of personal failure and loss. The transition from ‘family farmer’ to ‘farm manager’, therefore, may not be as straightforward as it is assumed to be for those family farmers who have lost their own properties.

In a personal sense, if the evolution of the Wheatbelt SES continues to follow a ‘hyper- productivist’ trajectory, then the longer-term fate of family farmers and their continuing involvement in the agricultural sector will depend upon their ability to renegotiate their sense of place and self-identity in relation to changing management structures that promote the instrumentalities of place at the expense of deep and endemic emotional, psychological connections to place. However, as this research and others have shown (e.g. Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Vanclay, 2004), family farmers rarely regard the act of farming and the farm property purely from a business perspective. It is likely that many family farmers will find it difficult to become the pure ‘economic rationalists’ that the current neoliberal policy setting seems to demand of them.

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At a societal level, this also raises questions regarding what values we wish to promote in our agricultural regions, and whether or not there is a need to maintain or promote an endemic farming-based sense of place in the Wheatbelt. This is considered further in the next chapter.

8.5 Losing the family farm Family farmers will continue to lose their farms in a climate-changed world. Whether related to climate change risks, economic shocks, changes in policy, the death of a loved one, or problems encountered during the succession process, there are many factors and situations in which family farmers will be forcibly separated from their farming properties. Despite the high rate of farm loss over the last decade in the Wheatbelt and Australia more broadly, little research that has examined how family farmers cope (or do not cope) with such a transition or where they eventually come to settle.49 Though it was beyond the remit of this thesis to examine the experiences of those who voluntarily chose leave their farming properties or those who were forced to do so, discussions with key informants representing several rural mental health organisations and financial counselling services provide insight into these issue. This section examines the experiences of key informants who have worked with family farmers forced off their land, and farmers who (at the time of the interview series) were close to losing their farm, and some of the strategies that may be employed to ease family farmers’ transition off their farming properties.

8.5.1 Grieving for the family farm In speaking with representatives from community health groups and financial advisory services it is clear that losing the farm, whether by active decision or external circumstances, is an emotionally tumultuous process for family farmers. Because the farming family is likely to have already endured significant emotional and financial hardship for months (if not years) before deciding to leave or being forced off their land, feelings of relief and grief may be present in equal measure. For instance, a representative of RFCSWA spoke of her experiences counselling family farmers who had gone bankrupt. For these farmers, going bankrupt was met with an overwhelming sense of relief as the financial pressures to which they had been subject suddenly disappeared:

So I’ve dealt with some families that have gone bankrupt. And one particular family when I rang them up they said just the sense of relief was almost overwhelming because

49 A notable exception is provided by Kuehne (2012) who provides an auto-ethnographic account of his leaving the family farm.

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you have all of this pressure … The day that you decide to go bankrupt and lodge the forms none of your creditors can actually contact you anymore - they have to then go through the bankruptcy trustee. And they just both went and got jobs. They are incredibly happy because the pressure just overnight disappear[ed], and they had that pressure for maybe five or six years. So I think they made that choice and it was a really good decision for them (financial counsellor, RFCSWA).

When faced with sustained emotional and financial stress, farmers’ emotional and psychological attachments to the farm may unravel. As described by a rural mental health counsellor below, this then may allow family farmers to leave their land in a positive frame of mind:

There will be some farmers who could think of nothing better because they don’t have to worry about all this stress they’ve had all this time. That’s been taken over a number of years, so they’ve just got to the end of their tether now so they may have foregone all of that sense of ownership and belonging and whatever because it’s taken its toll and they’re happy to just go and manage a farm just for the lifestyle (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

However, this is not to say that feelings of grief and failure are not involved, or that all farmers will react in a similar way. In the example provided above, the family first had to come to grips with losing the land before they could feel comfortable with the decision to go bankrupt. This process occurred over a two year period, in which time the family lost their land and endured ‘as strong a grieving process [as] for a friend’ (financial counsellor, RFCSWA). It was only after going ‘through the physical and emotional tear of leaving that property [that] they could start thinking about what bankruptcy meant and how they would be seen in their community.’

Grieving for a lost home may be a natural part of transitioning from the family farm. Indeed, it appears that grief is present wherever highly place-attached people are forced from their lands (e.g. Fried, 1963). It is important to recognise that the grief experienced by those who are dislocated and displaced occurs not only because a loved environment is lost; rather, it is the grief that comes with the loss of a coherent and stable set of meanings that provide orientation and grounding in the world. This was evident in comments made by a member of a farming family who, at the time of the interview series, were very close to losing their property. Though stoic and apparently emotionally resilient in the face of

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such adversity, the family had had to give serious consideration to what it would be like to lose the family farm. When asked what it would mean for the family to lose the farm, it was evident that grief and sadness would only be part of the process. Rather, as seen in ML’s comments below, losing the farm would also remove the central reference point to their lives, their family and their identity:

[…] it would be like a death. Yeah, there would be a grieving process because the farm embodies everything that the family is. Like I know I was saying that you’ve got to be emotionally detached from it and stuff like that … well, you can kind of say that, and it sounds alright, but I think it goes deeper than that. And I think if we were to lose it, it would be like losing a person … but it would be sadder than losing a person … I don’t know. But it would be hard, definitely. So if you took the family out I don’t think the family would make sense, you know? It’s like it’s lost its context, it’s lost its niche, it’s lost its power. Because we’re fighting for our farm and we’re not giving up and we know this is where we’re meant to be, I think if you took us out of that it would be like … it wouldn’t make sense. Like, it would - you’d get used to it - but it would be such a jump, like a quantum leap from that to this: from the family in the farm to the family out of the farm. It’s like making sense of a whole new map (ML, R3).

‘Making sense of a whole new map’ is a powerful metaphor that conveys the feeling of dislocation and disorientation that ML anticipates to feel if she and the family are forced to relocate from their farm. Because places are where the woven webs of culture and meaning connect with the Earth (Relph, 2008b), if a loved place is lost, then these webs of meaning have the potential to become untethered and the ‘map’ of one’s life undone. Similarly, in previous research examining how people cope with a forced dislocation from a home environment, Fullilove (2009) found the sense of loss experienced by uprooted residents not only related to the loss of the physical place, but also the meanings, memories and symbols that contribute to an individual’s broader ‘emotional ecosystem’ (p. 11).

Often, both in a literal and a metaphorical sense, the loss of a loved place engenders losing many of the personal, familial, social, and cultural meanings and connections that, together, help individuals make sense of their lives and provide both grounding and direction for their futures. Indeed, an entire way of life may be lost with the loss of a significant place. As part of this process, and perhaps in a more tangible sense, farmers may also come to grieve the part of their identity that is lost with the farm. Given the

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importance of the farm, both as an outward reflection and as an inward extension of farmers’ sense of personal identity (see Chapter 6), it is perhaps unsurprising that several mental health professionals with experience working with dislocated family farmers observed the loss of the farming property often elicited an attendant loss of self-identity:

I think they grieve for everything. They grieve for that loss of sense of place and their sense of identity because that is a really … it’s almost like a mythological sense of identity: ‘I’m a farmer; I’m part of this community’ (representative, Farming and Beyond).

It [the farming property] validates … that’s how they validate who they are. Going right back to that guy in Geraldton, to come off the farm he is completely lost. He has no perception that he has all these other skills […] that was who he was - a really good farmer - and now he doesn’t know who he is (clinical psychologist, Southern Ag Care).

[…] without their land they don’t have anything when that goes. They’ve made their life out of that. So what do they have then? […] Their farms are their home. Without that, who are they if they’ve just got to go suddenly and rent or try and survive? (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

From a mental health perspective, the loss of a coherent sense of self can have severe consequences. Among Indigenous communities, separation from place or the loss of land has been found to erode personal and collective identities, which in turn is highlighted as a reason why Indigenous groups suffer elevated rates of mental illness, social disturbance, and suicide (e.g. Cunsolo Willox et al., 2011; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012b; Vicary & Bishop, 2005). This same situation may also occur for Australian family farmers. For some, losing the family farming property can undermine a coherent and positive sense of self. In these moments, individual farmers may lose sight of what factors had contributed to their situation and become overwhelmed with feelings of self-blame and failure (Vanclay, 2004). This can leave farmers (males especially) in a very vulnerable emotional and psychological position. On the next page is an account provided by a representative of the Regional Men’s Health Initiative that details their experiences working with farmers who stand to lose their land. In their account, some farmers have become suicidal at the prospect of losing their properties as feelings of personal failure, hopelessness, and the loss of a positive and stable sense of self overwhelmed their capacity to cope:

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(Interviewer) So does their identity get thrown into question - who they are?

Absolutely. I’m very sure of that. And they question their ability as well: ‘what could I have done different?’ So that sort of questioning and blaming themselves. So they get … the easiest way out sometimes is that they don’t want to be here. So I’ve had a few of those who - touch wood I haven’t lost anyone yet - but they’ve been in such a situation that they can’t see any way out. So they choose to take their lives because they have no identity anymore. ‘It’s all my fault. If I’d done this that might have happened’ - that sort of thing. ‘What if that? What if that?’ And when you get right down to the bottom: ‘Well, it’s all me. I did it.’ And they lose sight of the fact that really it’s the climate that’s got them into that situation more so than bad decisions (counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

Risk factors underlying suicide in rural and remote areas is an area of inquiry that has received much attention in Australia over the last fifteen years (e.g. Alston, 2012; Hanigan et al., 2012; Judd, 2006; Judd et al., 2006; Miller & Burns, 2008; Nicholls et al., 2006; Page & Fragar, 2002). Although it remains unclear whether Australian farmers do indeed incur a higher rate of suicide than the general population, there is evidence to suggest that farmers have a higher degree of exposure to a greater number of personal and environmental mental health risk factors than urban dwellers (Fraser, Smith, Humphreys, Fragar, & Henderson, 2005b; Judd, 2006). Despite the various investigations into this area of inquiry, and the various personal, cultural and socio-economic suicide risk factors identified, farmers’ place identity has not been formally regarded as a risk factor of farmer suicide in Australia. However, it is clear from the example above that rural mental health counsellors have witnessed suicide ideation amongst farmers whose sense of self is devastated by the prospect of losing their land. Not only does this speak to the power of the farming property to shape farmers’ sense of identity and mental wellbeing, the lack of regard given to place identity as a risk factor of farmer suicide also further highlights the underrepresentation of sense of place in Western conceptions of mental health and wellbeing (Albrecht et al., 2007; Fullilove, 1996). Evidently there is need for further research into this area of inquiry.

In the longer term, it is unclear how farmers cope with losing the farm. Indeed, for all the attention given to farmers’ mental health and wellbeing over recent years, there has been a surprising lack of research in this area of inquiry. Just as some key informants were able to provide examples of farmers who have been able to manage the transition well, there

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seemed to be just as many examples of those who could not move beyond the feelings of failure they felt as a result of losing the family farm. In response, the next section examines some possible avenues for improving farmers’ capacity to successfully transition off the family farming property.

8.5.2 Facilitating place-detachment It is clear from the previous discussion that the process of losing the family farm can be devastating for the emotional and psychological health and wellbeing of affected family farmers. Understanding how to better facilitate farmers’ transition off their farmland is therefore an important task, particularly in the midst of intensifying climatic and economic risks. This task also fits within a broader global need to understand the mechanisms by which to better facilitate the ‘managed relocation’ of people from environments rendered unliveable or unviable by worsening climate change. Among the first to recognise the psychological dimensions of forced relocations in the context of a changing climate were Agyeman, Devine-Wright, and Prange (2009) who noted the psychological literature had little to say about the process of ‘place detachment’. According to the authors, place detachment entails a process in which “individuals and groups anticipate and negotiate the negative future consequences of remaining in a place by intentionally loosening existing attachments and forming new ones elsewhere” (p. 512). Due to a lack of understanding in this area of inquiry, the authors argue that further research is required to understand the process of detachment and how practitioners and decision-makers can foster detachment without inducing resistance to change.

Insight into how place detachment unfolds amongst family farmers and how it can be better facilitated to promote positive health outcomes is provided by representatives from financial counselling and rural mental health services in operation throughout the Wheatbelt. In discussion with these key informants, it was clear that a vital first step in the place detachment process is to recognise, and make explicit, farmers’ values, and particularly those values that pertain to their sense of place. As a former counsellor with the Regional Men’s Health Alliance contends, a major driver of farmers’ distress, especially when confronted with the prospect of losing the farm, is their ‘ignorance’ of their place- based attachments and the way in which these attachments influence their emotional states and decision making:

I think their ignorance about understanding it is the major driver. I think their ignorance of it, of what they’re actually talking about, is the main driver. Because when they

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actually face up to it, when they actually talk about it, they’re hanging onto emotional things that really they’d be better off to leave (former counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

It may be that simply recognising farmers’ place-based attachments, and helping farmers to recognise these attachments within themselves, is a fundamental part of the place- detachment process. When made explicit, this allows individuals to identify what it is that they are attached to, what they consider important to retain (even if it is elsewhere), and what aspects of place they are willing to let go. Again, as explained by the same key informant below, the explicit identification of these values may allow farmers to ‘separate’ out what it is that they really want to hold onto:

And when you actually ascertain what it is you actually want to hold onto, it helps them to understand it’s not the land so much as it’s the memories, and it’s the things that you learned there and so forth. That always gets wrapped up in money, because land is worth money - it’s the only thing that’s worth any money, really. So, there is confusion in people’s thinking about what they’re trying to hold onto, I think (former counsellor, Regional Men’s Health Initiative).

Once made explicit, recognition of a sense of place may also allow farmers to be able to make better informed, balanced, and holistic farm-management decisions. As argued by a financial counsellor representing the RFCSWA below, emotional connections to the farm will continue to have a place in family farming into the future. Place-based emotions and values therefore need to be part of the decision-making process, albeit in a manner that is balanced with the financial realities of modern family farming:

A part of the complete decision making process also needs to be acknowledging that sense of place and how that affects your decision making. I’m not saying, I don’t think for a minute it should be disregarded and that emotion should be disregarded. I think it needs to be a part of it, but we need to have very solid financial data as well and very good solid long term planning so that all of those things can be brought into context […] So in context of decision making, all of those things need to be brought into the room; but it’s just that you can’t have one of those overbalancing the rest of it. And that’s the danger of having emotion driving all of the decision making. Conversely, that would be the danger of just having finance driving the decision making (counsellor, RFCSWA).

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The ability of individual family farmers to recognise the emotional and economic realities of their situation is likely to be a very important skill-set in making tough decisions about staying or leaving the family farming property. In supporting family farmers faced with such situations, it is also vitally important that mental health workers and financial counsellors recognise the power of farmers’ place-based attachments to exert influence over their decision-making, and the value of these attachments to the individual family farmer. Indeed, as the example below illustrates, counsellors who are ignorant or dismissive of farmers’ sense of place may inadvertently exacerbate farmers’ emotional distress:

During the Farm Business Resilience Pilot we picked up a lot of psychological distress as well as financial distress and the call went out that we needed counsellors. So the government sent up city counsellors; and [name omitted] who was in charge of Regional Men’s Health at the time sent a message back within three weeks and said ‘Get them the hell out of there - they are doing more harm than good!’ Because these counsellors were sitting there and saying ‘well, what’s your problem? Sell the farm and get a job on the mines!’ (representative, Farming and Beyond).

Once farmers and counsellors alike have insight into the power, importance and the workings of farmers’ sense of place, strategies may be developed that allow family farmers to emotionally and psychologically disentangle themselves from their farming properties and to translate these feelings and values to another location. In describing the detachment-reattachment process amongst people who voluntarily relocate, Brown and Perkins (1992) observed people who transition well “work at creating stability within the change and prepare both for leaving and for beginning new individual and communal aspects of identity'' (p. 282). Described on the next page is a process in which farmers are guided to undertake similar steps. Particularly important to this process is ensuring that place-detachment and place-reattachment occur simultaneously, so that individuals are not left ‘placeless’. It may be the inanity of placelessness - a state in which farmers have lost a sense of place - that the alienation, dispossession and anomie experienced by other dislocated peoples may be felt by family farmers (e.g. Fried, 1963; Fullilove, 2009). Indeed, as described below by a representative of the RFCSWA, the inability to negotiate the bridge between place-detachment and place-reattachment may have life-long consequences:

And then it’s actually about identifying how those values can be represented in a different future; an alternative future. If you do that well people can leave quite well and they’ll get a sense of relief. If you do it very poorly, if you

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don’t succeed in doing it and people are forced out without ever having what I would call ‘coming to terms with it’ which is that sense of ‘okay, this is what needs to happen,’- sort of an emotional understanding- they will walk around with hunched shoulders for probably the rest of their life. It’s very, very significant, and it is about during the time they’re going through the process being able to look at it and actually understand what is going on against the framework, understand what those emotions are, in a sense what they’re experiencing in a context, and then chase it forward so they can translate that which is good. And I would almost say the sense of place they have to a new place, how they can identify in a new space, keeping some of those very important connections we’d describe as sense of place. Your sense of place isn’t only from the physical environment, but that’s how [George] Seddon says it of course, but it is in a sense also in my mind how you fit in, your importance in the community, your significance to others, a role, a place, a space where you fit, a place to live.

(interviewer) So I guess it’s almost a dual process of being able to facilitate emotionally a detachment process from the farm and then being able to identify those emotions to be able to reattach to another location, perhaps?

If you think about what you just said, you would have someone in a space, in a metaphor, someone in a space of actually having no attachments for a little while, and I think we’d be much better off to do that process by assisting them to identify where they are going and develop some new attachments as they let go of the previous ones. I like it, and I think it’s very useful metaphor, and I think that sense of place needs to be, you need to adjust and expand it and allow it to incorporate where they are going to.

(interviewer) So there isn’t this vacuum space between?

Absolutely. I think you’ve probably hit on a very significant issue […] (representative of RFCSWA).

Understanding the place-detachment/place-reattachment process and its relation to farming families’ mental health and wellbeing also has implications for policy development regarding climate change adaptation. In Australia, some farming communities may be required to relocate as some regions become inimical to agricultural production (Marshall et al., 2012; Rickards & Howden, 2012). In these cases, an explicit understanding of farmers’ sense of place will be required to be able to engage communities with the prospect of relocation. In communicating what is likely to be an unpopular course of action,

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simply acknowledging farmers’ sense of place and the meaning and value it holds for individual farmers and rural communities may be an integral first step in bridging the gap between desired policy and community outcomes. Indeed, given farmers’ strong personal and cultural connections to their farming properties and to their rural communities, government policies that have promoted the voluntary relocation of farmers have proven extremely unpopular with Australian farmers (Bettles, 2014, February 25; Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008). Instead, by acknowledging farmers’ place-based attachments, new courses of action may be developed that allow farmers and government to achieve desirable outcomes. This may be achieved with greater community consultation and the promotion of local-scale decision-making (Adger et al., 2013). As Gross (2012, June) notes, addressing the so-called ‘rural-urban divide’ may go a long way in establishing a shared vision for a sustainable rural Australian into the future. However, Ensor and Berger (2010) also warn that community-based adaptations face challenges in that their deep connections to place may inhibit their capacity to change. In these cases, intermediaries who sit between government and communities may be of use in communicating the desires and values of both parties in the development of successful adaptive strategies.

At the same time, however, situations are likely to arise where remaining in place is not an option. In these cases, governments will have to expect that a proportion of the affected community members will wish to remain in their chosen places regardless of their tenability. In addition, affected community members need to be cognisant of the limits to which governments are willing to support communities deemed to have become ‘economically unviable.’50 This is where skilled community health/financial counsellors versed in the cultural values of rural Australia are likely to be a great assets to those who find themselves trapped between the desire to remain in their chosen place but confronted with the economically or environmentally untenable nature of their location. Rural financial counsellors and community mental health workers already function in this role, and further financial support to organisations such as the RFCSWA and Regional Men’s Health Initiative

50 In Western Australia, this is an issue that has recently been brought into stark relief as the State Government makes moves to close up to 150 remote Indigenous communities following the withdrawal of federal funding for essential community services (Weber, 2015, May 8). In a comment that neatly summaries the government’s position, the ex-Prime Minister, Tony Abbott, stated in the defence of the State Government’s decision: “What we can’t do is endlessly subsidise lifestyle choices if those lifestyle choices are not conducive to the kind of full participation in Australian society that everyone should have” (Medhora, 2015, March 10). It is clear from this statement that non-market valuations of place, community and culture hold little sway in the current political environment (nor does Australia’s brutal history of Indigenous dispossession, dislocation and forced assimilation).

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may prove a cost-effective route through which to promote positive outcomes for people faced with such circumstances.

Because little is known about where family farmers end up after leaving their land, further research is also required to understand how farmers navigate the transition away from the family farming property in the longer term. From this discussion, it would appear that community health workers and financial counsellors can provide valuable insights into how family farmers manage (or do not manage) life after leaving their land. Again, further conversations amongst these stakeholders may reveal additional strategies for facilitating farmers’ transitions from the family farm in a manner that delivers positive mental health outcomes. These conversations may also provide insight into how policy frameworks can be developed and implemented in way that are sensitive and supportive of peoples’ sense of place in the context of climate change adaptation.

Ultimately though, in the context of managed relocations and forced disruptions to place, there is no single ‘blueprint’ for how place-based cultural and personal values should be incorporated into decision-making (Adger et al., 2013). Inclusiveness, sensitivity to other perspectives, and participatory approaches to decision making, though good practice, do not automatically result in good outcomes. Furthermore, just because people have a strong sense of place does not automatically validate their choice to remain in their desired place. Navigating the emotional and economic terrains of forced relocations requires a capaciousness of mind and sensitivity of heart that is rarely present amongst stakeholders and decision makers. However, simply by giving recognition to farmers’ sense of place, we can perhaps begin to better negotiate a shared vision for rural Australia that promotes the emotional and psychological wellbeing of deeply place-attached family farmers in this era of rapid climate change.

8.6 Summary and conclusions This chapter has explored possible climate change impacts upon the future evolution of the Wheatbelt SES and what implications this may hold for family farmers’ sense of place and mental wellbeing. In exploring the most likely evolutionary trajectory for the Wheatbelt SES under current policy settings, it is evident that without significant intervention or innovation, the Wheatbelt region and the people within it are heading towards an uncertain future. Mounting climatic and economic risks, coupled with a continuing adherence to a neoliberal agriculture, put family farmers directly in the path of global agents of socio-ecological change. Under current thinking, farmers will have to continually

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improve their agricultural efficiencies in order to remain in front of contracting biophysical and economic thresholds to production. The necessity to do so will not only test the technical and financial skill of family farmers, but may also test their capacity to adapt their sense of place to ‘fit’ within the structures of a climate-changed ‘hyper-productivist’ agriculture.

At an individual level of analysis, limits to adaptation are likely to be encountered in the future as family farmers are confronted with heightened climatic adversity, market volatility, and thinning margins to production. It is in such situations, where farmers are faced with seemingly insurmountable pressures that threaten their ability to remain on the farm, that the emotional and psychological significance of farmers’ sense of place and its importance for their mental health and wellbeing will become clear. As we continue on a path where many family farmers are unlikely to be able to cope with mounting climatic and economic risks, and where the relocation of agricultural activities may be required, planners, health workers, financial counsellors, and family farmers themselves will benefit from recognising place-based values and the manner in which they guide farmers’ decision- making and impact their emotional and psychological wellbeing. Whilst acknowledgement of farmers’ sense of place will not be the panacea to all the challenges likely to be faced by family farmers into the future, recognition of these values, at the very least, may aid the development and implementation of individual, community and policy-level strategies to help mitigate some of the human costs associated with worsening climate change.

At a broader scale of analysis, however, this discussion also raises questions regarding the evolutionary trajectory of the Wheatbelt SES and the assumptions underlying a neoliberal hyper-productivist agriculture. If the current dynamics are translated forward, not only is the Wheatbelt SES likely to be pushed beyond irreversible tipping points by mounting climatic and economic risks, but the very existence of the ‘family farmer’ mode of agricultural enterprise, along with the endemic sense of place family farmers currently embody, may disappear from the region. The next chapter discusses these themes and the potential risks they pose to broader society, as well as the contributions of this thesis to practice, theory and policy.

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Chapter 9: Discussion and conclusions ______

9.1 Introduction For at least the past 10,000 years, relationships between people, place and climate have been central to the very possibility of an ‘agri-culture’ (Pretty, 2002). Despite the extraordinary changes that have occurred within farming over this vast period of time, we have seen in this thesis that these vital relationships persist amongst some of the most technologically sophisticated and globally connected farmers in the world. Notwithstanding the encroaching forces of anthropogenic climate change, neoliberal globalisation and the erosion of traditional rural ways of living, it is clear that family farmers in the Wheatbelt retain strong emotional and psychological connections to their farming properties, and that these relationships to place continue to be important for farmers’ mental health and wellbeing. Furthermore, this thesis has shown family farmers remain sensitively attuned to the weather, with seasonal patterns of wind, rainfall and temperature shaping farmers’ lived experiences of place and impacting their emotional and psychological states. Indeed, just as their parents and their grandparents before them, the lives of family farmers remain “harnessed to the great cycles of nature” (Tuan, 1974, p. 98).

However, this thesis has also demonstrated that farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing are under threat by pressures unknown to previous generations of farmers. Human actions are eroding the relative stability of the Holocene epoch and pushing Earth systems into new and uncertain trajectories (Steffen et al., 2015). Anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change now threaten agricultural production and food security at a global scale (IPCC, 2014). In addition, the world is connected in ways never seen before. Globalised networks of trade, capital, and finance connect all of us together. Shocks and disturbances remote to our location ripple through these panarchical networks, disrupting local economies, individual livelihoods and endemic connections to place.

As discussed previously in Chapter 2, Relph (2008b) observes that many of the challenges faced by humanity in the twenty-first century are global in origin but most keenly felt in the places of our everyday lives. This appears to be particularly true for Wheatbelt farming families. The family farmers interviewed as part of this research are emplaced within a bioregion that has experienced some of the most severe and abrupt climate change in

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Australia. The erosion of historical seasonal weather patterns, coupled with chronic winter dryness, super-seasonal variability and pre-existing forms of environmental degradation, have undermined the socio-ecological resilience of the Wheatbelt region, eroded the economic and social viability of ‘family farming’, and negatively impacted farmers’ lived experiences of, and personal connections to, their farming environments. In addition to this, due to their embeddedness within globalised markets and a neoliberal policy environment, Wheatbelt family farmers not only have little control over their economic situation, they are also expected to shoulder the risks associated with the failings of the economic and political system that promoted agriculture development on marginal land and left Australian farmers exposed to the fair, but mostly unfair, winds of global trade.

In response to these findings, it is clear that family farmers in the Wheatbelt are exposed to local-to-global environmental, economic and social drivers of change in ways not often experienced by other groups in society. Unlike for many people in Australian society, anthropogenic global warming, attendant regional climate change, global economic shocks and changing policy directives are not theoretical abstractions for family farmers; rather, they are lived phenomena that have very real and immediate implications for their sense of place and mental wellbeing. Farmers worry about the rain when it does not arrive as it should; they feel distressed when their land is distressed; their decision-making is a constant balancing act between short term profit and long term sustainability; and their lifestyles and livelihoods hinge on volatile market conditions and ever thinning economic and environmental margins to production.

It is evident that threats to farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental wellbeing in this era of abrupt climate change are exceedingly complex. In the midst of this complexity, the challenge is to understand how these complex drivers of change are ultimately driving divisions between farmers and their land in the Wheatbelt to the detriment of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing. From the findings presented in this thesis, it can be concluded that climate change, both at its local and global scales, threatens farmers’ sense of place and place-related wellbeing via the discord it creates between people, place and society. This chapter discusses these points of discord individually, before offering some policy-level directions for sustaining the health and wellbeing of Wheatbelt family farmers and their farming landscapes in the context of future climate change. These directions are framed within an eco-cultural complexity framework which argues eco-cultural systems must be allowed to retain their diversity, complexity and capacity for self-organisation and renewal

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if people and places are to retain their ‘health’. Following this discussion, reflections are offered on the theoretical and methodological approach taken in this thesis. The transferability of the thesis findings, along with directions for future research, are then discussed and thesis conclusions offered.

9.2 Discord between people, place and society

9.2.1 People and place The discord between people and place refers to the mismatch that climate change is creating between farmers’ sense of place (as historically and culturally experienced and understood) and the scientific assessment and consensus of the state of the biophysical environment. As anthropogenic climate change comes increasingly to bear upon farmers’ environment (unseasonal rainfall, temperature extremes, seasonal super-variability), farmers’ endemic knowledge and understanding of their farm environment are becoming invalidated. As discussed in Chapter 7, many of the family farmers who participated in this research felt they no longer had confidence in the consistency of seasonal weather patterns, or in their ability to accurately predict future weather. Furthermore, farmers’ emotional, psychological and functional relationships to their farming properties have also become undermined as pervasive dryness and seasonal super-variability inhibit farmers’ ability to exert control over their environment and to prevent their land from falling into a state of disrepair.

In both instances, changes in the biophysical environment are running counter to farmers’ subjective understandings of place and undermining farmers’ emotional/psychological connections to their farm environments. It is in these moments and spaces where farmers’ homelands become degraded and seasonal weather patterns no longer make sense that negative psychoterratic emotional and psychological states have the potential to arise. Solastalgia, meteoranxiety, and environmentally-produced forms of depression were some of the negative emotional and psychological states observed amongst farmers resulting from recent climate change and its impacts on farmers’ homelands. Alternatively, when relationships between people and place are in harmony, then desirable place-based experiences and positive emotional states are likely to arise. As discussed in Chapter 6, lush, green farmland, and the arrival of seasonal rains in particular, were found to promote feelings of topophilia, personal contentment and wellness.

These findings support the claim made by ecohealth practitioners that human health and wellbeing are vitally interconnected with the health and vitality of local to global

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ecosystems. However, unlike much of the research previously conducted in this area of inquiry to date, the thesis findings clearly demonstrated that positive human mental health and wellbeing in addition to physical health are contingent upon healthy ecosystem functioning. This is because, in a very direct sense, farmers are not only connected emotionally and psychologically to their farm environments, they are emplaced within them. Indeed, farmers’ lived experiences, their identity, and their health and wellbeing are tied to, and wrapped up in, the farm environment. Therefore, while all people, to some extent, have the potential to be emotionally and psychologically impacted by a changing climate, family farmers in the Wheatbelt are uniquely exposed and vulnerable to climate change risks to their mental health due to their emplacement within, and dependence, upon, farming environments that are also uniquely exposed and vulnerable to worsening climate change impacts.

The family farmers who took part in this research are by no means alone in their experiences. As discussed in Chapter 2, previous research has demonstrated some Indigenous groups and African rural communities are now experiencing various forms of climate-induced, place-based distress. In addition, in Australia, previous research has shown that family farmers across various agricultural industries now have to contend with home environments rendered increasingly inimical to agricultural production by adverse chronic climatic change (Alston & Kent, 2004, 2008; Drought Policy Review Expert Social Panel, 2008; Rickards, 2011). The difference, however, in the Australian context at least, is that climatic changes are occurring at a faster rate in the Wheatbelt than in other Australian agricultural region (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015). The way in which farmers, professional groups and the government respond to the challenges associated with a changing climate in the Wheatbelt may therefore guide climate-change responses throughout Australia.

To date, the vast majority of the research effort to address the challenges of adapting Australian agriculture to a changing climate has focused on agronomic and economic factors (Howden, Schroeter, & Crimp, 2013; Stokes & Howden, 2010). However, as Berry et al. (2011b) demonstrate, farmers’ capacity to adapt to a changing climate is not only contingent upon technical or economic factors, it is also contingent upon farmers’ mental and physical health. Part of the challenge of adapting Australia’s agricultural industries to a climate-changed future, therefore, is to promote positive mental and physical health outcomes amongst farmers and their families.

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In Indigenous health contexts, understanding the relationships between mental health and ecosystem health has promoted new ways for public health practitioners to conceive and address the determinants of community health and wellbeing. Instead of considering these issues separately, it is now understood that Indigenous conceptions of health are as entwined with the physical environment as they are with relationships to family, culture and socio-economic conditions (Kingsley et al., 2013; Kingsley et al., 2009; Parkes, 2010). In response, these understandings have led scholars to advocate for ‘place-sensitive’ approaches to Indigenous wellbeing that explicitly recognise “the significance of local interconnections that frame the lives of local populations and their experience of (and relationships with) environments and sociocultural values attached to these locations” (Panelli & Tipa, 2007, p. 456).

Given the similar way that Australian family farmers’ mental health and wellbeing are also rooted in place and contingent upon the climate, it is argued here that similar place- sensitive perspectives could yield mental health benefits for farmers contending with the abrupt and cumulative impacts of a changing climate. In relation to their findings amongst the Inuit of Rigolet, Cunsolo Willox et al. (2012b) argue health service provision could be made more effective by recognising sense of place as an important determinant of Inuit mental health and wellbeing. Specifically, the authors suggest knowledge of the Inuit’s sense of place should be incorporated into community-targeted mental health programs that facilitate discussion amongst community members of the emotions they may be experiencing in relation to climatic and/or environmental changes. On the basis of the findings presented in this thesis, I too argue that rural mental health workers, general practitioners, and other professionals who have direct dealings with family farmers need to be aware of farmers’ sense of place and its importance for their mental health and wellbeing. As shown in Chapter 8, ignoring, dismissing or overlooking sense of place as a determinant of farmers’ health and wellbeing can lead to health professionals being unable to locate the cause of farmers’ distress, and to cause counsellors to offer advice that inadvertently exacerbates the distress felt by those family farmers already contending with multiple environmental, economic, and social pressures.

After speaking with agricultural and rural mental health key informants, it is my impression that rural health professionals and financial counsellors do recognise sense of place as a powerful driver of farmers’ emotional and psychological states, decision-making and behaviour. Moreover, it appears that many practitioners are already actively incorporating

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this knowledge into their own practice. However, this recognition only seems to come after years of experience working with family farmers, and only after having become accustomed with the culture of farming in the Wheatbelt. Furthermore, as is often the case when engaging with the emotions and psychology of place, professionals’ understandings of farmers’ sense of place appeared to be a tacit feature of their professional knowledge, and one that was not readily communicable.

In response, it is recommended that professionals from non-rural backgrounds (and those employed in the health sector in particular) undergo cultural sensitivity training that outlines farmers’ sense of place as a powerful determinant of their mental health and wellbeing. Such training would demonstrate linkages between farmers’ emotional and psychological states with the condition of the physical environment and outline the potential for poor seasonal conditions to exacerbate negative mental health outcomes in rural communities. This would allow practitioners to be more sensitively attuned to the seasonal drivers of farmers’ mental health and wellbeing, and to respond accordingly when their region is subjected to climatic adversity. Given the limited way in which the English language and Western conceptions of human health engage with people-place relationships and their relevance to our wellbeing, it may be of use to draw upon Indigenous understandings of health to frame these understandings for a non-Indigenous audience. Furthermore, because it has been recently recognised that naming emotions may help individuals identify and cope with the stresses associated with environmental change (Clayton et al., 2014), the emerging language of place-based distress (e.g. solastalgia, meteoranxiety, ecoparalysis) may aid health professionals to identify the source of farmers’ distress, to communicate to their clients what it is that they are experiencing, and to offer solutions that ease their patients’ distress.

In addition, given the findings presented in this thesis regarding the connectedness of ecosystem health and farmers’ mental health and wellbeing, co-benefits to farmers and their farmland are likely to be gained by encouraging farmers to undertake activities that improve the health and vitality of their farmland. Intriguingly, and in support of this contention, there is evidence that suggests ‘natural resource management’ (NRM) projects can deliver mental health benefits to Australian farmers. Broadly, NRM projects seek to address environmental degradation through various practical, educational and policy means. In a meta-analysis of studies examining the social dimensions of NRM in Australia, Schirmer, Berry, and O'Brien (2013) demonstrate NRM programmes (particularly those that

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allow farmers to address environmental degradation through actions such as revegetation or altering their farm management practices) positively influence several important determinants of farmer wellbeing, including social capital, self-efficacy, social identity, and their physical and mental health and wellbeing. By reducing environmental degradation in a given place, the authors contend exposure to environmental health risks is reduced and an individual’s sense of self-efficacy and self-identity is improved as people re-establish a sense of mastery and control over their environments.

Currently, there are various Federal Government provisions available to Australian farmers to help ‘drought proof’ their properties, along with a complex array of other initiatives designed to help farmers remedy or improve the health and vigour of their land. However, there are still various questions to be addressed with regard to what types of NRM programmes produce the best health outcomes for farmers, and what policy instruments could be developed to secure the best co-benefits for people and places (Schirmer et al., 2013). In addition, the authors also note that it remains unclear whether other types of intervention may provide better health outcomes than those provided through NRM pathways. Despite this, NRM presents a potential avenue to promote the health and wellbeing of people and place concurrently in the climate-changed landscapes of the Wheatbelt that is consistent with the theoretical perspectives offered by the ecohealth/ecocultural approach to human health and wellbeing. Such an approach is also consistent with ‘ecosystem-based adaptation’ strategies to health improvement outlined in recent major reports commissioned by The Lancet (see: Watts et al., 2015; Whitmee et al., 2015) which have shown NRM-styled projects to be effective in reducing climate change vulnerabilities and enhancing human health outcomes, especially amongst those living in poor or vulnerable settings.

It is important to recognise, however, that NRM projects (and many aspects of environmental public policy) are only ever likely to deliver stop-gap solutions to what are essentially ongoing and systemic ‘eco-cultural health’ problems (Rapport & Maffi, 2011). Indeed, discord between people and place is likely to deepen as intensifying patterns of climatic change increasingly come to impact the health and vitality of Wheatbelt landscapes and the people, animals, plants and ecological communities within them. A greater challenge than developing and implementing solutions to stand-alone environmental or human health problems, therefore, is to transform the very systems that

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give rise to eco-cultural health problems in the first place. The next section addresses this issue.

9.2.2 People and society The second way climate change is producing place-based distress amongst farmers is via the tensions it exacerbates between people and society. In this case, ‘society’ refers to governmental and other key decision-making institutions that act on behalf of the public to make agricultural and climate change policy. When a place becomes threatened, differences may emerge between communities and governments regarding the manner in which risks are appraised and the types of responses are that deemed to be appropriate in addressing these perceived risks. As Adger et al. (2013) notes with regard to climate change adaptation and resource development more generally: “differences in values may create tensions or discrepancies between adaptations that are deemed rational and effective by governments and planners, and those that are considered important and desirable by individuals and communities” (p. 114).

In situations where adaptations are forced upon communities, interventions may inadvertently undermine aspects of place considered important and meaningful to emplaced residents (Adger et al., 2013). However, in the Wheatbelt, adaptations that embody values that run counter to family farmers’ intrinsic and emotional valuations of place are not so much ‘forced’ upon Wheatbelt communities as they are engrained within normative political and policy thinking. For instance, as discussed in Chapter 5, economic and political assumptions associated with neoliberalism have come to dominate agricultural policy in Australia. Rising to influence after the global economic shocks of the early 1970s, neoliberalism has reconstructed relationships between people, place and society in Australia’s rural regions along market-based lines (Lawrence, 1987; Pritchard, 2005a, 2005b; Smith & Pritchard, 2015). Despite its negative impacts on rural areas and farming communities, individual farmers and their peak representative bodies have offered little resistance to neoliberal agriculture. Instead, many throughout the sector have internalised its logic; and, by doing so, have perpetuated its predominance over Australian political and policy thinking (Lawrence, 1987).

Today, adherence to neoliberal assumptions has brought forth a type of agriculture in Australia that has among its central concerns the improvement of agricultural productivity and efficiency, the enhanced competitiveness of the Australian agricultural sector within global markets, and the self-reliance of family farmers. As a result, neoliberal ‘hyper-

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productivist’ agriculture (Dibden et al., 2009) has created conditions in which ‘non- competitive’ family farmers are ‘rationalised’ out of the market, thus driving population decline, the erosion of the socio-economic base of rural communities, and, in some cases, the sense of place and mental wellbeing of family farmers. In extolling market-based values, neoliberal agriculture has been criticised for underrepresenting or ignoring entirely the negative social and environmental realities it creates for rural Australians (Alston, 2004; Brett, 2011; Pritchard, 2005a; Smith & Pritchard, 2015). In addition, from findings presented in Chapter 8, we also begin to get a sense that this policy environment is also driving a subtle yet profound cultural change in the Wheatbelt. While the family farmers interviewed in this research displayed a strongly developed and nuanced sense of place towards their farming properties, the neoliberal lens through which mounting climatic and economic risks are being addressed is driving family farmers to become ever more ‘business-like’ in their approach to the land and to the practice of farming. As the pressures to become increasingly efficient and productive mount, it is hard to envisage farmers will able to retain the intrinsically valuable and emotionally significant dimensions of their sense of place if the farming family becomes spatially and financially dissociated from the farm property and its ownership.

In effect, current policy thinking is driving discontinuities between people and place as the economic instrumentalities of agriculture come to dominate and usurp all other ethical and value frameworks. While the family farm is certainly a business and must be treated as such, it is also clear from the findings presented in Chapter 6 that the farm is imbued with meanings and memories that, for family farmers, give it intrinsic value as place of home and family, and also as a wellspring of personal identity and wellbeing. However, these latter values are rarely (if ever) represented in Australia’s agricultural policies or in reports outlining strategic directions for Australia’s agricultural future (see, for example: Commonwealth of Australia, 2015). Moreover, as commented upon by former Western Australian State Premier, Carmen Lawrence, this apparent myopia to the non-market value of place extends beyond the agricultural policy context and into the broader Western Australian political zeitgeist:

Conversations about our places and landscapes and why we should protect them are difficult to have here [Western Australia]. Governments typically underestimate the importance of place to our wellbeing, and ideas that might improve the quality of our lives

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are buried under the fixation with quantity, ignoring the reality that our shared sense of belonging is rooted in those places to which we are attached (Lawrence, 2015, p. 42).

In the short term, and at a personal level, the inability of policy thinkers, agricultural bodies, and even farmers themselves to give credence to the intrinsic values of place are forcing family farmers to submit to the logic of a neoliberal hyper-productivist agriculture and to respond to climatic and economic risks in a manner that further perpetuates its hegemony. Those who cannot or will not submit to its logic will mostly likely be forced from their farming properties by the ‘rationalising’ forces of the market - a likelihood further exacerbated by intensifying anthropogenic global warming and attendant regional climate change. In addition to driving population loss and the socio-economic decline of rural communities, these forces are also eliciting negative mental health outcomes for family farmers by eroding relationships between people and place. As shown in the previous chapter, losing the family farm can be a devastating experience for those with strong personal and familial connections to place, eliciting severe grief reactions and an attendant rupture in farmers’ sense of self and sense of belonging in the world. In addition, for those who remain, contracting environmental and economic margins to production are likely to amplify farmers’ experiences of place-based distress as farmers’ lifestyles, livelihoods and their sense of place become increasingly exposed to local-to-global sources of climatic and economic risk.

In the longer term, and at a regional scale of analysis, adherence to a neoliberal hyper- productivist agriculture may also impose significant costs to broader society. For instance, as the instrumentalities of agriculture come to dominate the Wheatbelt landscape, it could be argued that the Wheatbelt SES is being driven towards a state of ‘placelessness.’ According to Relph (1976) placelessness signifies “an environment without significant places and the underlying attitude which does not acknowledge significance in place” (1976, p. 143). Placeless environments are standardised and uniform spaces lacking in distinctive features, and are argued to be inimical to the creation of ‘authentic’ human experiences and to the development of deep and abiding relationships to place. Such homogenous environments are usually the product of a ‘placeless attitude’ which fails to perceive the intrinsic value of places and “confers an overriding concern with economic efficiency as an end in itself” (Relph, 1976, p. 81). A placeless attitude, as explained further by Relph, assumes:

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[…] sense of place and attachment to place are not merely unimportant, but their very absence is an economic virtue and placelessness is to be sought after for it makes possible the attainment of greater levels of spatial efficiency (1976, p. 117).

While ‘placelessness’ is perhaps an abstract concept, its impact on socio-ecological resilience is not. In her influential essay Monocultures of the Mind, Shiva (1993) clearly demonstrates how dominant ‘rationalist’ and essentially ‘placeless’ scientific and economic approaches to forestry and agriculture tend to destroy the conditions required for the long- term sustainability of ecosystems and the health of human cultures. From such perspectives, the value of any given ‘eco-cultural’ system (Rapport & Maffi, 2011) is reduced to its monetary worth. In the attempt to maximise production efficiencies, the logic of a globalised ‘commercial capitalism’ requires eco-cultural system complexity to be reduced to its component parts, with only those parts deemed to have ‘market value’ allowed to be sustained. Not only does this inevitably lead to an erosion of ecosystem resilience as the conditions required for self-renewal and regeneration are destroyed, but such approaches to agriculture and forestry may also delegitimise and eventually disappear endemic customs, cultures and knowledge. When such perspectives are realised in human actions and thought, what manifests is a monoculture of mind and landscape. As Shiva (1993) explains:

Dominant [scientific and economic] knowledge thus breeds a monoculture of the mind by making spaces for local alternatives disappear, very much like the monocultures of introduced plant varieties leading to the displacement and destruction of local diversity. Dominant knowledge also destroys the very conditions for alternatives to exist, very much like the introduction of monocultures destroying the very conditions for diverse species to exist (p. 12).

The Wheatbelt now faces this very same reality. As climatic and economic pressures mount and socio-ecological resilience is eroded, ecosystem and cultural diversity are further eliminated as the inherently ‘placeless’ neoliberal hyper-productivist agriculture demands the region’s people and ecology conform to the homogenising logic of market efficiency. For instance, even remnant ecological diversity is being lost as financial pressures force farmers to abandon diverse mixed farm systems for specialised cropping-systems reliant upon a handful of cash crops (particularly wheat); economic diversity is lost as farm systems are increasingly reorientated to supply demand for a narrowing range of agricultural markets; and cultural diversity is lost as family farmers are forced out of the

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sector, and as the very conditions required for the development and maintenance of a strong endemic sense of place are replaced by increasingly ‘corporate’ modes of farming.

From the perspective of socio-ecological resilience, the loss of ecosystem and cultural diversity is highly problematic. Biological diversity is fundamental for ecosystem health which, in turn, is essential for the maintenance of sustainable livelihoods, the promotion of human health, and the achievement of societal goals (Pretty et al., 2009; WHO, 2015). Similarly, cultural diversity is recognised as being vital for the capacity of human systems to adapt to environmental change (Pretty, 2011; Pretty et al., 2009; Rapport & Maffi, 2011).

In addition, a purely ‘economic rationalist’ way of thinking has been criticised for its inability to engage with the non-market risks produced from its own logic. In maximising economic outcomes, social, ecological, cultural and psychological risks or losses are rarely considered; and neither can they be, for such risks and losses are not amenable to monetary valuation (Adger et al., 2011a). Hence, the loss of farmers’ sense of place, along with the many emotional and psychological risks to farmers’ mental health canvassed in this thesis, are costs that exist outside of that which can be recognised by the dominant ‘rationalist’ and essentially ‘placeless’ value system that reside at the centre of the neoliberal hyper-productivist paradigm. Moreover, the loss of farmers’ endemic sense of place may pose a risk to socio-ecological resilience as the values that motivate farmers to ensure the long-term health of the land are replaced with values that motivate the maximisation of short-term profits and ceaseless economic growth.

Patterns of placelessness and attendant cultural and biodiversity loss are by no means limited to the Wheatbelt; rather, these patterns also have consequences for the health and sustainability of global eco-cultural systems. The current ecological crisis has been argued to have its roots in our shared inability to perceive the intrinsic value of nature and its importance for human health, happiness and flourishing (Plumwood, 2002). In addition, others have argued the dysfunctionality of economic-rationalist worldviews and their incompatibility with the continuing health and resilience of ecosystems across all scales (Berry, 1995; Klein, 2014; McMichael, 2013; Norton & Toman, 1997; Steffen et al., 2011).

As we enter the age of planetary environmental decline, it is increasingly recognised that SESs at global-to-local scales need to shift from ‘a spiral of degradation towards a more sustainable trajectory’ if humanity is going to retain or improve current levels of wellbeing (Chapin III, Mark, Mitchell, & Dickinson, 2012, p. 2). Leading environmental thinkers have

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also recognised that such a task cannot be addressed with economic or technological fixes alone. Instead, what is required is a fundamental reorientation of human values towards those that promote ecosystem and human health concomitantly (Klein, 2014; Plumwood, 2002; Rapport et al., 1998b; Rapport & Maffi, 2011; Steffen et al., 2011). The inability to do so may have devastating consequences for human societies. As Steffen et al. (2011) writes drawing upon Diamond, (2005):

[…] societies collapse if core values become dysfunctional as the external world changes and they are unable to recognise emerging problems. Such societies are locked into obsolete values hindering, for example, the transition to new values that support a reconnection to the biosphere. A core value of post-World War II contemporary society is ever-increasing material wealth generated by a growth-oriented economy based on neo-liberal economic principles and assumptions, a value that has driven the Great Acceleration but that climate change and other global changes are calling into question (n.p.).

In response, it is argued here that fostering an endemic sense of place, one that specifically connects the health and wellbeing (physical, mental, cultural, spiritual, social and economic) of the individual to the health and vitality of their local environments, is vital for restoring the health and resilience of local-to-global eco-cultural systems. According to Chapin et al. (2012), a strong and positive sense of place can motivate people to invest in sustainable solutions to environmental problems despite the often significant ‘transaction costs’, and increase the likelihood that long-term solutions will be prioritised over short- term benefits because people are less likely to discount the value of long-term benefits (p. 16). A similar sentiment is articulated by Horwitz et al. (2001) who reasons that residents become motivated to undertake conservation behaviours if they recognise their sense of self and personal wellbeing as being connected to the land upon which they live and work. Pretty (2013) also argues the need to actively foster place attachment so that individuals and communities are motivated to take care of their local environments. In this regard, there are now numerous studies showing place attachment has the potential to motivate pro-environmental behaviour amongst various populations located within diverse settings (Clayton & Opotow, 2003; Stedman, 2002; Vaske & Korbin, 2001; Zhang et al., 2014), and it is for this reason that Chapin III and Knapp (2015) argue “well-recognised actions that build

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place attachment [or sense of place] could create a reservoir of potential stewardship” (p. 1.).51

This is not to say that fostering an endemic sense of place is a panacea for overcoming ecosystem and human ill health, or that stewardship should be its end goal. Sense of place remains a contested concept, both in theory and in practice, and has been shown to motivate parochialism and exclusionary practices in some instances (Gieryn, 2000; Relph, 2008a). Furthermore, there are significant problems associated with stewardship discourses for ensuring long-term ecosystem resilience and human wellbeing (Albrecht & Ellis, 2014). Instead, an endemic sense of place is argued to be essential for the development (or re-imagination) of a value/ethical position that recognises the co- dependency of people and places in their local contexts for the pursuit of global sustainability. This is not simply a matter of becoming better environmental ‘stewards’52, but a project to once again become ‘native to our own places’ (Jackson, 1994). To become native to our own places is to harbour strong and endemic eco-cultural connections that celebrate our embeddedness within ecological communities and recognise the interconnectivity of our own health and wellbeing with the health and vitality of place (Beery, Jonsson, & Elmberg, 2015).

As shown in this thesis, family farmers in the Wheatbelt harbour these endemic eco- cultural connections. It is farmers’ strong endemic sense of place that connects them body and mind to their land and to the local climate. The farm is both an inward and an outward extension of the self, a material symbol of personal and familial achievement, and a powerful driver of positive and negative psychoterratic and other emotional and psychological states. It is because the farm is representative of these meanings that farmers fight for their land when it is threatened, they hurt when it is damaged, and grieve when it is lost. Therefore, if the goal of Australian agricultural policy were to promote the long term sustainability of Australian agricultural regions instead of purported agricultural efficiencies, farmers’ endemic sense of place may constitute a resource to achieve this end.

51 Research has revealed the relationship between place attachment/place identity and pro- environmental behaviour is neither straightforward nor consistent. For a detailed overview of this issue, refer to the Special Issue of the Journal of Environmental Psychology Identity, Place and Environmental Behaviour (2010, vol 30, iss. 3). 52 Stewardship is a contentious environmental ethic that has been criticised for perpetuating the myth that humanity is somehow separate from, and has control over, nature (see, for example, various authors in Berry, 2006). As it would appear that many of the environmental problems encountered by contemporary society stem from the belief that nature is a resource to be managed like any other, I contend that the stewardship ethic is of little use if we are to transition towards a truly sustainable future.

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As it currently stands, however, the long-term sustainability of rural communities and farm land rarely enters into Australian agricultural policy discourse. Instead, as argued throughout the thesis, farmers are encouraged to be ever more ‘efficient’, ‘business-like’, and effective ‘risk managers’. They are also encouraged to be ‘globally engaged’ actors: dis- emplaced, economically-rational, and utility-maximising in their approach to the land and to the practice of farming (Cheshire et al., 2013).

As climate change intensifies, however, dangers are being exposed in the logic of the neoliberal hyper-productivist paradigm. The abrupt shift to a drier and more variable climate in the Wheatbelt is not only exposing ‘frailties in our cropping systems’ as evidenced by stalling yield gains and rampant production volatility (Stephens, 2011), it also bringing to light systemic vulnerabilities implicit within the very structure of agriculture in the Wheatbelt and the thinking used to create it. As Gaynor (2015) argues on the future of the Wheatbelt:

Now the industrial paradigm is facing a bleak future. Utterly dependent upon fossil fuels and agrochemical inputs to grow crops and conserve the soil, while demanding ever greater economies of scale that whittle away at its social sustainability, it is not clear that the industrialised Wheatbelt as a social and economic unit will survive the next century (p. 170).

Despite the known risks, there seems to be an inability to step outside of this increasingly perverse logic to envisage a different future for broadacre farming in the Wheatbelt that sustains food production whilst also protecting, or even enhancing, environmental and cultural values of place, and the mental health and wellbeing of family farmers.

9.2.3 Fostering eco-cultural health in the Wheatbelt In the midst of pervasive ecosystem decline and loss of cultural diversity, a central question that must be addressed, from a policy perspective, is how human and ecosystem health can be promoted concomitantly. It may be that various policy directives could achieve this end; however, to imagine such directives, it is first necessary to foster an alternative way of thinking. This will involve offering an alternative set of agri-cultural values and a different type of knowledge (epistemology) that challenge the assumptions underlying the neoliberal hyper-productivist agricultural paradigm.

It is clear that an alternative set of agricultural values needs to be articulated that communicates the non-market values of agriculture for broader society. As it currently

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stands, however, this task is exceedingly difficult. As was articulated previously by Lawrence (2015), conversations about our places and landscapes and why we should protect them are difficult to have here (Western Australia). Part of the reason why it is difficult is because of how entrenched ‘developmentalist’ and ‘economic rationalist’ notions of ‘progress’ have become in political and policy thinking. Indeed, as Shiva (1993) contends, dominant systems of knowledge and value (such as those on display in Western Australian political thinking) not only tend to silence alternative discourses, they also eradicate the conditions that allow different discourses and value positions to emerge.

Though perhaps difficult to recognise, there are alternative agricultural values to those applied in Australian agricultural policy discourse. Insight into an alternative set of agricultural values can be discerned from those nations that argue the ‘multifunctionality’ of agriculture. As discussed briefly in the previous chapter, in other parts of the world, agriculture (or, more aptly, ‘agri-culture’) is recognised to provide the society within which it is emplaced benefits beyond that which can be measured by economic value alone. For instance, as discussed by Dibden et al. (2009), throughout Europe “the idea that the activity of farming is somehow constitutive of rural space and society is sunk deep in European policy circles” (p. 303). This is perhaps especially so in the wine producing regions of France, where the notion of ‘terroir’ - the endemic environmental and cultural features of a rural place - are seen to be vital in the co-production of agricultural goods, farming landscapes and rural cultures (Dibden et al., 2009). It is partly for these reasons, and the concern that further trade liberalisation and the withdrawal of State-supports would undermine the non-market values of Europe’s rural landscapes, that some EU policy makers have tended to contest the neoliberal project for agri-culture (Dibden et al., 2009).

This is not to say that the industrial landscapes of the Wheatbelt can be directly compared to the smaller-scaled farms and villages of rural Europe. As Gaynor (2015) argues, there is an historical argument to be made that the ‘rural idyll’ espoused by nineteenth and early twentieth century Western Australian leaders could never be realised due to the limitations of the Wheatbelt environment:

No amount of optimism, investment or technology would enable the vision of bountiful fields dotted with smiling homesteads and bustling villages to be realised in a low- nutrient environment, so far from large markets: only large-scale industrialised farming would make the Wheatbelt a viable economic proposition (p. 170).

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European modes of agriculture have never sat comfortably upon the Australian landscape, and it seems Australian farmers have only ever been successful in the extent to which they have been able to overcome the limitations of climate and soil through the use of energy- intensive inputs and ever increasing efficiencies of scale. The vulnerabilities and challenges associated with the contemporary neoliberal hyper-productivist project for agriculture in the Wheatbelt, therefore, are likely to have their roots in this foundational schism between the values guiding European settler society and the Australian environment.

Though the rural landscapes of Europe may not provide a direct corollary for how agriculture should be reimagined in the Wheatbelt, European examples of a multifunctional agriculture, and the cultural mores of ‘terroir’ in particular, nevertheless provide insight into an alternative agricultural paradigm which, at its core, centres on sustaining endemic relationship between farmers, land and climate in the production of food, farming landscapes, and rural cultures. By sustaining and celebrating endemic agri-cultures, eco- cultural complexity is retained and, arguably, so is the resilience of rural landscapes and cultures.

However, even when the multifunctionality of agriculture is recognised, it is still a difficult task to communicate the intrinsic and endemic values of place. Part of the problem when communicating such values has to do with our increasingly ‘placeless’ language. As MacFarlane notes in a recent essay (MacFarlane, 2015, Feb 27), many of the words and concepts that provide nuance to our experience of place have been lost:

[…] it is clear that we increasingly make do with an impoverished language for landscape. A place literacy is leaving us. A language in common, a language of the commons, is declining. Nuance is evaporating from everyday usage, burned off by capital and apathy.

The loss of place-specific words and concepts has implications beyond the diminishment of the lexicon. As MacFarlane (2015) argues, because language directs our attention to, and shapes our relationships with, the non-human world, the loss of a ‘place language’ also threatens to diminish the manner in which people relate to them. Indeed, if the language used to describe a place, or the emotional and psychological states it instils within its residents, is dulled, becomes homogenous, or is altogether lost, then people-place relationships are also likely to lose their significance. This may also lessen peoples’ motivation to defend what they consider unique and intrinsically valuable about their places. As the farmer-poet, Wendell Berry, contends:

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People exploit what they have merely concluded to be of value, but they defend what they love, and to defend what we love we need a particularising language, for we love what we particularly know (Berry, 2000 as cited in MacFarlane, 2015).

When compared with other languages, English contains a relative dearth of words and concepts that give expression to the intrinsic value of place-based relationships and their importance for our emotional and psychological health and wellbeing (Albrecht, 2012; MacFarlane, 2015). In response, I view the psychoterratic typology as an important new development for giving voice to the hitherto underrepresented and overlooked emotional, psychological significance, and intrinsic value of, an endemic sense of place. Whilst the more commonly used place-related terms such as ‘place attachment’, ‘place identity’ and ‘place dependence’ represent a step in this direction, I see such terms as representative of a blunted scientific language which largely quantifies peoples’ relationships to place rather than giving voice to their emotional significance and intrinsic value. This is not to say that the psychoterratic typology is to be regarded in isolation from, or in opposition to, existing people-place concepts. Rather, I consider the psychoterratic typology an opportunity to further develop our awareness and understandings of people-place relationships, and to develop the ‘particularising’ language of place required for the fostering of endemic place- related values both at an individual and societal scale.

Elements of the psychoterratic typology have recently found application in major reports that outline potential risks to people and places resulting from worsening climate change (IPCC, 2014; Watts et al., 2015), and in legal proceedings examining the social impacts of the extractive industries (see McManus et al., 2014). Further recognition and inclusion of such concepts in policy discourses of climate change adaptation and human health may constitute a vital step in countering the monocultural and essentially ‘placeless’ policy thinking that threaten the health, integrity and long term sustainability of regional-to- global eco-cultural systems. Though perhaps an abstract conclusion to reach, values are powerful drivers of individual and collective behaviour (O'Brien & Wolf, 2010). Indeed, as Rapport (2002) observes: “It can be argued, however, that as humans are integral to the ecosystem, so are human values” (p. 206). Therefore, the recognition of values other than those related to a homogenous and globalising free-market economy, and particularly those that are bound to the endemic features of place and consistent with scientific understandings of biophysical reality, are important for giving rise to new patterns of

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personal behaviour and collective thinking that may stem, and eventually reverse, the tide of environmental and cultural degradation on display in the Wheatbelt.

In addition to the challenge of recognising alternative, or articulating new, agri-cultural values, agricultural and human health policy perspectives also need to be able to engage with the complexity of eco-cultural systems and the interdependency of human and ecosystem health across scales. This is because, according to Rapport and Maffi (2011), in managing for positive public health outcomes, as it is for managing for healthy and resilient ecosystems: “strategies that focus on single issues - be they economic, public health, or ecological - in isolation of others are bound to fail” (p. 1045). More than just a technical task, engaging with the complexities of eco-cultural systems at a policy level therefore requires a shift in epistemological perspectives. Rather than considering problems of economic growth, environmental sustainability and human health and wellbeing independently of each other, in farming contexts especially, these problems must be considered together as part of a broader systems analysis (El-Fattal & Sanchez, 2012).

While over the last two decades or more there has been a shift in ecological and public health sciences towards integration (e.g. Albrecht et al., 1998; Albrecht et al., 2008; Berbes- Blazquez et al., 2014; Forget & Lebel, 2001; Lebel, 2003; Rapport, 2002, 2007), it seems to be the case that policy treatments of these areas have remained isolated within their respective silos. Furthermore, and particularly relevant to this thesis, though research investigating Australian farmers’ mental health does, to an extent, engage with environmental, economic and social drivers of ill-health, further work is required to understand the socio-ecological complexities underlying farmers’ mental health, and to translate these understandings into clear policy directives.

In addressing the mental health of family farmers and the health and resilience of Wheatbelt landscapes, policy directives might be informed by, and attend to, the complexity of eco-cultural systems and the different value positions that inform what a desirable state of affairs might look like. To this end, just as an ecohealth approach has been instrumental in this research for uncovering the complexities associated with climate change and its impact on farmers’ sense of place and mental wellbeing, so too an ecohealth approach to policy formation may be useful in promoting the health and resilience of the Wheatbelt eco-cultural system.

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Based on the three principles of systems thinking, transdisciplinarity and participation, an ecohealth approach to policy formation could provide the conceptual and epistemological tools required to engage with ecosystem and cultural complexities and to attend to the various value positions that drive stakeholder behaviour. Systems thinking and its associated concepts (e.g. resilience and panarchy) allow cross-scale and cross-domain system dynamics to be identified, while transdisciplinarity and participatory approaches give provision for different values and types of expert and community knowledge to be included in policy discussions. When taken together, an ecohealth approach to agricultural policy formation may deliver a broader and more comprehensive approach to the management of agricultural regions than what is currently encompassed within normative hyper-productivist policy thinking.

It is possible that policies that foster eco-cultural health may not directly attend to farmers’ sense of place and place-related mental health and wellbeing. However, because farmers’ sense of place and mental health are part of the broader eco-cultural system of the Wheatbelt, enhancing the health and resilience of the system will ipso facto improve the ‘health’ of all system components. In this way, just as the health and wellbeing of family farmers is contingent on the total health of their farming environments, so too the health and resilience of the Wheatbelt eco-cultural system is contingent upon the continuing health and wellbeing of family farmers and their rural communities. While there are examples of ‘enlightened governance’ promoting positive health outcomes for people and ecosystems concomitantly, as Rapport and Maffi (2011) state “such examples of good governance must be multiplied and strengthened if there is to be hope to stem further degradation of the Earth’s eco-cultural systems” (p. 1045). In the era of planetary environmental decline, such lessons are not only applicable in the Wheatbelt, but rather for the health and wellbeing of all people and for our shared home, the Earth.

9.3 Reflections on the research approach Due to the scale and complexity of the public health risks associated with a changing climate, health practitioners have recognised the need to rethink the manner in which human health and wellbeing are conceptualised and theoretically construed (Albrecht, 2011; Berry & Peel, 2015; Cunsolo Willox et al., 2012a; Frumkin & McMichael, 2008). In response, this thesis has attempted to provide a novel way of engaging with the mental health risks associated with a changing climate through the investigation of place and individuals’ sense of place. As the importance of place for residents’ mental health wellbeing becomes better known, and the place-related impacts of a changing climate

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come further to the fore in assessments of climate change risk, it is likely that place will receive growing attention as a means to frame climate-health research. As discussed in Chapter 3, however, academic literatures of place remain rife with theoretical, methodological and conceptual inconsistencies stemming largely from the inability of researchers to identify, and critical engage with, the deeper paradigmatic assumptions guiding their own research practice and that of others. To avoid many of these problems, efforts were undertaken in this thesis to outline a research framework that made explicit the paradigmatic assumptions guiding this research and to highlight consistencies between these and my chosen theoretical and methodological approaches. The research employed an exploratory case study design founded on the metaphysical tenets of critical realism, the theoretical assumptions of ecohealth (with emphasis on systems thinking, transdisciplinarity and participation) and the suppositions of qualitative methodology. This allowed me to engage with place as biophysically constituted, subjectively experienced, and socio-ecologically emplaced, and to explore points of discord arising between people, place and society.

While the approach taken here was useful for addressing the particular aims and goals of the research, it is by no means prescriptive. Given the vast complexity of place, no one approach can possibly engage with all of its facets (Malpas, 1999). Because its complexity, and the failure of reductionist approaches to place to deliver conceptual clarity or theoretical integration (Patterson & Williams, 2005), researchers should be free to choose a research approach that is appropriate for the aims and goals of their particular study. However, future researchers who intend to engage with place also need to be cognisant of the paradigmatic assumptions guiding their own practice if they are to avoid becoming mired in intractable methodological and theoretical disputes. Furthermore, researchers must also take care that their metaphysical, theoretical and methodological choices are consistent with the aims of the research, the phenomena under investigation, and the internal logic of their approach. To do otherwise is to negate the legitimacy, validity and verisimilitude of the research and its findings.

In saying this, I would urge future researchers who are interested in exploring linkages between place, mental health and climate change (or any form of environmental change for that matter) to consider employing the research approach taken here. Critical realism has been instrumental in this research for allowing me to engage with the biophysical and subjective qualities of place concomitantly (the so-called ‘betweenness of place’). In turn,

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such ‘positionality’ has allowed me to avoid treading the slippery slope towards environmental/cultural determinism and extreme social relativism (Carolan, 2005). Additionally, through its repudiation of reductionism and its embrace of complexity, critical realism has provided an appropriate metaphysical position for the investigation of the broader contexts of farmers’ sense of place and the socio-ecological drivers of farmers’ place-related mental wellbeing. Moreover, critical realism, with its commitments to ‘epistemological relativism’ and ‘judgemental rationality’ (see Chapter 3) has also allowed me to interrogate farmers’ understandings of the climate system and the assumptions informing neoliberal hyper-productivist agriculture against the biophysical realities of climate and place in the Wheatbelt. Because some social constructions of the environment are fundamentally at odds with the health of eco-cultural systems and the workings of nature more generally, critical interrogation of our systems of knowledge and values are essential in this age of global environmental change. Critical realism thus provides an important metaphysical foundation for this task.

The ecohealth theoretical framework has also proven valuable for exploring farmers’ sense of place, their mental health, and the socio-ecological complexities of a changing climate. With its commitments to systems thinking, transdisciplinarity, and participation, ecohealth provides an exciting (albeit evolving) direction in health research due to its ability to engage with the biophysical, social and cultural determinants of human health across scales. Furthermore, by conceptualising human health as part of the health of the life-support systems of the Earth, the ecohealth approach allows us to consider human health and wellbeing as contingent upon, and emplaced within, the health and vitality of all living and non-living systems. However, further research is required to fully appreciate what an ecohealth approach can deliver for our understanding of human mental health and wellbeing. As part of this task, there is also a need to further examine synergies between ecohealth and resilience approaches to issues of population mental health and wellbeing, and to issues of eco-cultural health more broadly. While it has been recognised that ecohealth and resilience theoretical frameworks share common epistemological roots, and that these frameworks are indeed ‘dovetailing’ (Berbes-Blazquez et al., 2014), it remains unclear how the dynamics of complex SESs shape mental health vulnerabilities across individual, community and societal scales. Given that mental illness is the leading cause of disability burden worldwide (Murray et al., 2013; Whiteford et al., 2013) and that the mental health impacts of global environmental change remain relatively unexamined (Berry

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& Peel, 2015; Clayton et al., 2015), there is much opportunity for future researchers to aid our understanding in this area.

I also encourage future researchers interested in the place-related mental health impacts of a changing climate to consider employing a qualitative case study design in their research. Case study designs are beneficial when investigating the impacts of a changing climate on a given community or population; for though climate change is a global stressor, its impacts are most strongly experienced in the local contexts of peoples’ everyday lives. The qualitative component of the case study design was particularly important for allowing me to attend to the meanings and emotional significance family farmers derive from their farming environments, and for engaging with their lived experiences of a changing climate. In light of this, it is surprising to me that so much place-related research has tended to employ quantitative research methodologies. Though quantitative approaches certainly have a role in place-related research, such methods, for the most part, tend to deliver results stripped of human context and present places devoid of their meaning. Meaning and context are vital components of place; and by not attending to them, the intrinsic significance and eco-cultural complexity of place for those who inhabit them can be lost in translation. The dominance of quantitative research methods in the ‘place sciences’ is perhaps a reflection of engrained disciplinary practices; or perhaps, more simply, an outcome shaped by researchers’ financial and time constraints. Either way, there is much to be gained from the use of qualitative case study designs in the investigation of place as a locus of meaning and experience, particularly as the meanings and qualities of place people hold dear come under threat by intensifying anthropogenic climate change.

Again, it is important to note that the research approach adopted in this thesis and advocated here is neither prescriptive nor the only means by which to conduct research into such problem areas. As with all research designs, the approach taken here had limitations which future researchers would be prudent to attend. For example, there are inherent procedural difficulties in pursuing in-depth case study designs, as they are often extremely time-intensive, both in the data collection and data analysis phases. Indeed, transcription of the interview data alone took approximately four to five months, with the analysis taking an additional six months. At a broader methodological level, transdisciplinary research, particularly when it is situated within relatively novel theoretical and metaphysical frameworks, presents researchers with unforseen complexities and uncertainties that perhaps disciplinary-based research programs are able to avoid. Though

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transdisciplinary research has increasing value, particularly as health-related problem areas become ever more complex, transdisciplinary research practice is difficult, time-intensive and emotionally draining. This is said not to discourage would-be transdisciplinary researchers, but rather to highlight the point that disciplinary-based approaches to research that is grounded in well-proven theoretical and conceptual frameworks perhaps present less challenges to would-be health researchers. In saying this, research approaches open to novelty and surprise, as difficult as they may be, often have potential to deliver radical new insights into problem areas. Therefore, the positives to be derived from transdisciplinary research, in many instances, outweigh the challenges and difficulties encountered along the way. Additional limitations and directions for future research are discussed in the next Section.

9.4 Transferability of findings, limitations and directions for future research

9.4.1 Farmers’ sense of place With regard to the thesis findings, further research is required to ascertain the transferability53 of these results to other agricultural and non-agricultural populations. Findings regarding family farmers’ sense of place are likely to find application across Australia’s agricultural regions owing to the continued dominance of the ‘family farmer’ mode of agricultural enterprise. Though specific details may differ, the characteristics of Wheatbelt farmers’ sense of place described in Chapter 6 are likely to underpin family farmers’ emotional and psychological connections to place across Australia. It must be said, however, that the findings reported in Chapter 6 by no means offer an exhaustive review of farmers’ sense of place. For instance, it remains unclear how family farmers relate to the natural versus built aspects of the farm environment, what differences may exist between female and male family farmers’ sense of place, the relative importance of ‘sense of place’ and ‘sense of community’ to farmers’ sense of belonging and personal identity, or the strength and type of attachments to place felt by different types of family farmers and non- family farmers living in rural communities. However, despite these questions, by providing the first systematic investigation of Australian farmers’ sense of place, this thesis provides a comprehensive platform of understanding from which future research can build.

In the international context, these findings also contribute to a small yet growing body of literature regarding farmers’ emotional and psychological relationships with their farm

53 The term ‘transferability’ is used instead of ‘generalisability’ in keeping with the tenets of qualitative research (Creswell, 2013).

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environments. To what extent the sense of place of family farmers in the Wheatbelt is comparable to the sense of place of family farmers in other parts of the world is unknown; however, there are tantalising threads of evidence that suggest there may be considerable overlaps. For instance, for family farmers in the United Kingdom, Burton (2004) shows the farm to be an important part of their personal identity, providing both as an outward extension and inward reflection of the self. Similar findings are reported by Dominy (2001) amongst sheep farmers located in the New Zealand highlands. Gray (1998; 1999) notes the consubstantiality of ‘farm’ and ‘family’ in research conducted amongst sheep farmers in the Scottish highlands, and discusses the interplay of farmland, home and identity. More recently, an intriguing study by Ngo and Brklacich (2014) shows that the sense of place of so-called ‘new farmers’ (farmers with five years or less agricultural experience) located in southern Ontario, Canada, shares many similarities with the sense of place of Wheatbelt family farmers described in this thesis. Specifically, the authors report new farmers experience an aesthetic appreciation of their farmland, harbour a strong sense of place- identity, and have an awareness that their own health and wellbeing is connected to the health and vitality of their farmland that is similar to the family farmers who took part in this research.

Despite the international research outlined above, farmers’ sense of place and its relationship to farmers’ mental health and wellbeing remain areas of inquiry in need of further research. A particularly salient direction for future research is how different modes of agricultural enterprise may shape identity formation and emotional attachments to place among farmers both within and across different locations. Indeed, in light of the mounting problems associated with the industrial/neoliberal agricultural paradigm, there is a need to consider new and alternate ways of farming and to reflect on how rural cultures and identities may be shaped by different modes of agro-economic organisation. In addition, cross-cultural studies would also be useful to ascertain the relative importance of broader cultural/societal mores or endemic farming experiences in shaping a farming- based sense of place.

9.4.2 Place-based distress The findings presented in this thesis regarding farmers’ lived experiences of a changing climate and their place-based distress are likely to find growing application as agricultural regions across Australia (and across the world) become subject to intensifying climate change impacts. Because the Wheatbelt is on the leading edge of climate change in Australia (CSIRO & Bureau of Meteorology, 2015), Wheatbelt farmers’ lived experiences of

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chronic climatic change and seasonal patterns of place-based distress are likely to be particularly pronounced. Therefore, the Wheatbelt case study presented in this thesis provides particularly salient insights into family farmers’ lived experiences of unfolding climate change and its impacts on farmers’ sense of place and mental health that may become increasingly relevant to farmers located in other Australian regions as climate change trends intensify.

It is important to note, however, that climate change impacts are highly place-specific; meaning that climate change may be experienced very differently even within the same geographical region (Hess et al., 2008). In turn, peoples’ lived experiences of climate change and notions of resilience are highly situated phenomena (Tschakert & Tuana, 2013). For instance, within the geographically large Wheatbelt, climate change is likely to be experienced differently by farmers living in the north-eastern and south-western limits of the region. This is because climate change is impacting differently upon these areas: whereas the south-west region has become more conducive for profitable wheat production, the north-east region has become increasingly marginal. Already, there have been reports referring to the ‘tale of two wheatbelts’ to describe the differentiated ways in which stand-alone seasons play out in the northeast and southwest regions (Wilson, 2013, Aug 1). However, as climate change impacts intensify, it is likely that the tale of the two wheatbelts will become a more permanent distinction. Future research investigating the impacts of a changing climate on family farmers in the Wheatbelt is likely to find large differences between these two geographical areas. Therefore, these geographical sensitivities also need to be observed in future research conducted in the Wheatbelt and in other large agricultural regions across Australia.

Internationally, very few studies have investigated place-based distress (climate-induced or otherwise) amongst farming populations. As discussed previously in Chapter 2, a notable exception is provided by Tschakert et al. (2013) who investigated solastalgia and the other forms of environmentally-produced distress felt by family farmers living northern Ghana - another region located on the leading edge of a changing climate. Given family farmers’ high level of dependence upon the climate and their local environments for their lifestyle, livelihoods, and culture, it may be that the place-based distress experienced by farmers in the Wheatbelt has correlates in the experiences of farmers situated in other environments increasingly susceptible to mounting climate change risks. Again, due to the lack of research into this field, there are ample opportunities for researchers to significantly

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contribute to this area of understanding. International studies with cross-cultural elements will be particularly important to ascertain whether farmers’ emotional and psychological health and wellbeing are being similarly affected by the risks imposed on people and places by a changing climate.

As part of this task, there is also an opportunity for researchers to contribute conceptually to the investigation of place-based distress. Though the ‘particularising language of place’ advocated by Wendell Berry remains in its formative stages, Albrecht’s psychoterratic typology offers an intriguing pathway to its future development. Just as this thesis has contributed novel insights into meteoranxiety, ecoparalysis, solastalgia and topophilia, so too there is a need for these concepts to be validated in other research contexts and for their content to be further refined. Investigative research is required to catalogue specific emotional and psychological states arising from ‘healthy’ and ‘sick’ places, and to integrate these understandings within existing theoretical frameworks of place and mental health.

Finally, there is also opportunity for researchers to consider different modes of inquiry to further investigate relationships between climate change, place-based distress and mental health outcomes. For example, follow-up research may consider drawing upon public health data to investigate associations between climate stress/climatic change and quantifiable changes in indicators of farmers’ psychological and emotional health. In such a research scenario, ‘sense of place’ could be investigated as a potential mediating factor. In addition, future research may consider examining similarities and/or differences in the qualitative findings for Newdegate in comparison with other communities in the Wheatbelt or across Australia’s other broadacre regions.

9.4.3 The resilience of agricultural socio-ecological systems Thesis findings regarding the resilience of the broader socio-ecological context of family farming in the Wheatbelt is likely to find application throughout Australia. Many of the drivers that impact the Wheatbelt SES operate across national and international scales. For instance, trends such as anthropogenic climate change, the cost-price squeeze, rising market volatility, the rise of neoliberal agriculture and the decline in the economic and social sustainability of rural communities are pervasive throughout Australia’s agricultural regions. The continuation of these trends, therefore, is likely to erode the socio-ecological resilience of other Australian agricultural regions into the future.

It is also important to recognise that many of these same drivers are impacting rural communities and agricultural regions across the world. Climate change threatens to

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undermine agricultural production and food security at a global scale (IPCC, 2014); neoliberalism (whilst an increasingly contested project) continues to shape relationships between farmers, the State and the market globally (Dibden et al., 2009; Johnsen, 2003, 2004; Pechlaner & Otero, 2008; Potter & Tilzey, 2005); increasing market volatility also affects those farmers unshielded from its vagaries (Food and Agriculture Organisation, 2012); and most developed nations have experienced farm amalgamation, declining farm numbers and a rise in the average age of the farming population.54 The Wheatbelt case study therefore represents a localised expression of a globalised agricultural panarchy being driven by anthropogenic climate change and neoliberal socio-political forces. Because of this, there are opportunities for researchers to engage with issues related to agricultural sustainability and the resilience of agro-ecological systems across all scales, from the individual through to global systems, and across most domains of inquiry, from the ecological sciences through to the political sciences.

While there is potentially an unlimited number of ways future researchers can engage with the socio-ecological complexities of adapting agriculture to a changing climate, two streams of research appear to me to be particularly important. The first relates to the development of reliable indicators that provide information about the dynamics and the state of a given agricultural SES. This is a task that has been pioneered by David Rapport in the assessment of ecosystem health (see, for example: Rapport, Costanza, & McMichael, 1998a; Rapport & Friend, 1979; Rapport, 1992, 1995; Rapport & Hildén, 2013; Rapport & Singh, 2006). More than monitoring its biophysical attributes, Rapport (2003) notes that:

Clearly the great challenge ahead in applying ecosystem health to environmental management is to make use of new methods that allow continuous monitoring (particularly from remote sensing) of biophysical conditions of large-scale ecosystems and to integrate these findings with socioeconomic, cultural, and human health trends (p. 9).

Such information could provide policy makers and other relevant groups novel insight into the drivers of environmental-human health issues and identify the most appropriate pathways and opportunities for intervention. However, as noted by Rapport and Hildén (2013), the development of such indicators and their implementation in policy settings are

54 See for USA (United States Department of Agriculture, 2012); Canada (Beaulieu, 2015); EU (European Federation of Food Agriculture and Tourism Trade Unions, 2014).

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exceedingly complex tasks with many technical, political and legal questions yet to be answered.

The second pertinent direction for future research relates to the identification and inclusion of human values in systems research. While it is important to recognise the ‘scale’ and the ‘dynamics’ of socio-ecological problems, it is also important to recognise its ‘depth’; that is, the manner in which many of the intractable environmental and human health problems faced today are the product of human values that are seemingly incompatible with the ‘healthy’ operation of the natural world (Plumwood, 2002; Steffen et al., 2011). Values, therefore, should be an important, if not a central, consideration in the investigation and promotion of resilient agricultural SESs. To this end, participatory and transdisciplinary research approaches are required that attend to multiple stakeholder perspectives and to various expert and non-expert forms of knowledge (Charron, 2012; Funtowicz & Ravetz, 1991; Somerville & Rapport, 2000). By adopting such an epistemological perspective, potential conflicts between different stakeholders may be minimised and new adaptive responses developed. However, as noted by Adger et al. (2013), it remains “difficult in practice to incorporate multiple and marginalised voices and plural values into robust and replicable decision-making” (p. 115). Nevertheless, this is an important task if we are to avoid the dangers associated with monocultures of mind and place (Shiva, 1993).

9.5 Conclusions As anthropogenic global warming and other forms of global environmental change intensify in the Anthropocene, relationships between people and place the world over are increasingly at risk of breakdown. Presently, people who live in ecologically sensitive environments, or who are dependent upon their local environments and the regularity of the seasons for their lifestyles, livelihoods and cultures, are on the frontline of climate change risks to their sense of place and mental wellbeing. As this thesis has demonstrated, Wheatbelt farmers join a growing number of Indigenous communities and poor rural populations whose endemic connections to place have become threatened, and their mental health damaged, as a result of the new climate abnormal.

It is likely, however, that as the scale and pace of these changes accelerate no amount of wealth or technology will insulate people from the dangers of the ensuing climate chaos. Just as Rachael Carson’s seminal book Silent Spring demonstrated that none of us are immune from the dangers associated with the growing toxicity of the global environment,

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so too the farming families of the Wheatbelt, the Inuit of Rigolet, the Indigenous people of the Torres Strait, the victims of Hurricane Katrina, and the disadvantaged farmers of rural Ghana show that the mental health and wellbeing of all people may be at risk if anthropogenic global warming and attendant climate change trends are allowed to continue unabated.

As we come to grips with this brave new world of global environmental decline and globally interconnected elevated risk, the way in which practitioners and theorists engage with issues of human health and wellbeing will have to be adapted to reflect our growing understanding of the complex socio-ecological drivers that underlie health, and the contingency of human health and wellbeing on the life-support systems of the Earth. Perched at this extraordinary moment in time, we would be wise to heed to lessons from the Indigenous people of the world, prescient scholars, ecologically-minded artists and writers, and those who continue to live in close communion with the natural world, who demonstrate, in their own ways, the vital connections that exist between people and places, and the importance of these relationships for our total health, inclusive of our personal wellbeing (physical and mental), the health of our communities, and the vitality of the Earth as an integrated whole. To ignore such lessons is to perpetuate two of the most entrenched and potentially dangerous myths within contemporary society: that humanity is somehow separate from, or beyond, nature; and that our health and wellbeing stands in isolation from the ecological web upon which all life depends (Berry, 1995).

There remains much to be done to promote an ecological vision of health. However, it is hoped that this thesis contributes to such an understanding, particularly with respect to the health and seasonal regularity of place and its importance for human mental health and wellbeing. Ultimately, if we are to improve the mental health of those adversely impacted by a changing climate, the most successful health interventions will be those that reduce greenhouse gas emissions and halt global temperature rise. To this end I look forward to the Paris climate talks later this year (2015) with both optimism and trepidation; for if we miss this opportunity to act, place-based distress may, unfortunately, become a common human experience.

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Appendix 1: Climate Statistics (Monthly Rainfall and Maximum Temperature) for Newdegate, Western Australia

*Mean rainfall (mm) for years 1954 to 2015 ** Mean temperature (°C) for years 1996 to 2015 Source: BoM (2015) (

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Appendix 2: Advertisement

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Appendix 3: Letter of Invitation Dear Community Member,

Across the Wheatbelt farmers have to contend with a number of environmental challenges such as dry land salinity, increasing climate variability, and reduced rainfall.

While much is known about the financial and ecological costs of these and other environmental challenges, the resulting impact upon farmers’ overall health (their wellbeing) and relationships to homelands (their sense of place) is mostly overlooked within academic circles and governmental departments.

I am conducting a research study investigating these themes in and around the Newdegate area as part of my Doctoral studies at Murdoch University, Perth, Western Australia. Specifically, I am exploring:

• Farmers’ positive and negative relationships to the land (sense of place), • Environmental challenges experienced by farmers in and around the Newdegate area, • And whether (or not) environmental challenges are impacting on farmers’ sense of place and feelings of well-being.

I would like to extend an invitation to Newdegate community members (men and women) to participant in an interview series who:

• Are local farmers or part of a local farming family. • Are currently working and/or living upon a farming property. • Have significant experience of and connection to the land in the Newdegate area. • And are over the age of 18.

If you are interested in participating or simply want to find out more please feel free to contact me via email or telephone (contact details on next page). I will be in Newdegate from Monday 11th to Thursday 14th of February. I will be staying at my father’s place and would be happy to meet in person if would like to discuss the project further. Alternatively you can contact my supervisor Professor Glenn Albrecht (details next page).

Your interest and participation in this research study would be very much appreciated. Findings from this study will inform relevant community and governmental bodies of the impact landscape and climatic challenges have not only on farm businesses, but also on farmers and farm families themselves. Results will be relevant to farmers throughout the Wheatbelt, and other agricultural regions both within and beyond Australia.

Yours sincerely,

Neville Ellis

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Appendix 4: Information and Consent Forms (Community Member Participants)

The Project Across the Wheatbelt farmers have to contend with a number of environmental challenges such as dry land salinity, increasing climate variability, and reduced rainfall. While much is known about the financial and environmental costs of these challenges, the resulting impacts on farmers’ lifestyles, wellbeing, and relationships to their homelands (sense of place) is mostly overlooked within academic circles and governmental departments.

• Farmers’ positive and negative relationships to the land (sense of place) • Environmental challenges experienced by farmers in and around the Newdegate area • And whether (or not) environmental challenges are impacting farmers’ sense of place and/or sense of wellbeing.

Why is the research being done? In recent years there has been growing recognition that peoples’ relationships to home environments (known as ‘sense of place’) can dramatically impact individuals’ wellbeing. However, the home environments of many rural and farming peoples are being impacted upon by a range of landscape and climatic challenges that are making life on the land increasingly difficult to maintain. While the financial strain of environmental challenges on farmers is relatively well known (e.g. the financial burdens associated with drought), the manner in which environmental challenges impact farmers’ sense of place and wellbeing has received considerably less attention.

This research project sets out to address these gaps. Findings from the research project will be used to inform relevant community and governmental bodies of your lived experiences of life on the land, the landscape and climatic challenges you must contend with, and the way in which these challenges impact your feelings towards the place in which you live and your sense of wellbeing. Given the many and various environmental challenges being faced by farmers across Australia, your participation in this research project will be of great interest and importance to farmers, agricultural departments and rural community organisations throughout the Wheatbelt and across Australia.

Who can participate in the research? I am interested in the views of both men and women living and working on the land. Specifically, I am seeking the views of Newdegate residents who:

• Are over the age of 18 • Are rural producers, farm workers, belong to farming families, or are property owners. • Have long-term experiences and connections to the land in the Newdegate area (e.g. have been engaged in farm work and the farming lifestyle for a number of years).

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• Are currently working and/or living upon a farming property.

What choice do you have? Participation in this research is entirely your choice. Whether or not you decide to participate, your decision will not disadvantage you. If you do decide to participate, you may withdraw from the project at any time without giving a reason and have the option of withdrawing any data which identifies you.

What would you be asked to do? Interview series: You are asked to take part in a maximum of four interviews throughout the course of the 2013-2014 agricultural season. An initial interview will take place in February-March 2013 with follow up interviews to be conducted both before and after key times throughout the season (approximately August and October this year and February the following year). Interviews will be conducted at a time and a place convenient for you. It is expected that each interview will take about 45 minutes. With your permission interviews will be recorded using a small audio recording device. The interviews will be conducted using a prepared guide focusing on topics such as:

• Your family history in the region • Your positive and negative relationships to your homelands (sense of place) • Your experiences of local landscape/climatic conditions and how they affect (or do not affect) your sense of place and wellbeing. • Your views on the future of Newdegate and the wider wheat-belt region.

Community Blog: In addition, you will be asked to contribute to an online Newdegate Community Blog relating to the aforementioned research themes. You will be able to post your comments anonymously on the blog if you wish. The blog will be moderated by me and only contributions in reference to the research themes will be permitted. Further information pertaining to the blog can be found on the blog homepage (to be advised).

Photography: Photographs of the community and of the surrounding landscape will be taken to aid the research project. With your permission photographs may be taken of your property to aid the description and analysis of farming practices and environmental conditions in the region. If individual persons appear in a photograph it will be incidental to the photographing of the landscape. You will have the opportunity to review all photos taken on your property and to request they be deleted/omitted from further use if you so wish.

What are the risks and benefits? This study offers you the opportunity to share your experiences and views about an issue of considerable interest throughout the Wheatbelt and across Australia. Your participation will contribute to a growing body of work examining the lived experiences and adaptive capacities of rural producers living in an area of widespread landscape change and increasing seasonal variation. Findings from this research will inform local and regional responses to landscape and climatic changes in regards to farmers’ wellbeing throughout the Wheatbelt and across Australia.

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How will your privacy be protected? All information will be confidential to myself and my supervisors, and will be stored securely at the School of Management and Governance at Murdoch University. You will have the opportunity to request to be referred to via a pseudonym during interview. In addition, all identifiers will be removed in future publications and presentations. Research data will be retained for a minimum of five years at a secured location in the School of Management and Governance at Murdoch University as required by legislation.

How will information be collected and used? A summary of information from this study will be made available to interested individuals and groups, local media organisations, and relevant governmental departments. Results will be published as part of the researcher’s PhD thesis and in academic journals and conference presentations. If individuals from the region contact and request information, they will be given a prepared summary sheet of the research findings. The Newdegate community will be presented with a copy of the PhD thesis once completed. No identifying material of community member participants will be used except by prior agreement.

What do you need to do to participate? Please read this Information Statement and be sure you understand its contents before you consent to participate. If there is anything you do not understand, or have questions about, please do not hesitate to ask either myself or my supervisors. My phone number, along with those of my supervisors, is provided below.

What we are asking you to do: Step 1: Fill out the consent form and return it to the researcher at the time of the interview After reading this Information Statement, if you wish to take part in the study, please fill in the Consent Form. The form can then be handed to the researcher just before the interview takes place. Contact phone numbers are provided below if you wish to know more about the project. Step 2: Interview series If you agree to participate, you will be asked to participate in up to four interviews throughout the 2013-14 agricultural season. An initial interview will be conducted in February-March 2013, with follow-up interviews taking place before and after agriculturally significant times throughout the season (approximately August and October of this year and February the following year). The interviews will take approximately 45 minutes each and will be digitally recorded with your permission. You will be able to review, edit or erase the recording if you so wish and will have the opportunity to request a copy of the audio recording for further comment. At the end of the study you will be sent a letter thanking you for your participation and providing you with a summary of results.

Further Information Further information about this research can be obtained from:

Neville Ellis (B. Psych Hons) PhD Candidate Murdoch University

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Sustainability Division of the School of Management and Governance Mob: 0424 936 708 [email protected]

Professor Glenn Albrecht Murdoch University Sustainability Division of the School of Management and Governance Telephone (08) 9360 6103 [email protected]

Complaints This project has been approved by the University’s Human Research Ethics Committee (No. 2012/220). Should you have concerns about your rights as a participant in this research, or you have a complaint about the manner in which the research is conducted, it may be given to the researcher, or, if an independent person is preferred, to the Human Research Ethics Officer, Research Office, The Chancellery, Murdoch University. South St, Murdoch, WA, 6150, Australia, telephone (08) 9360 6677, email [email protected].

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Consent Form (Return) for the Research Project:

(Community Members)

Participant

I have read the participant information sheet, which explains the nature of the research and the possible risks. The information has been explained to me and all my questions have been satisfactorily answered. I have been given a copy of the information sheet to keep.

I am happy to participate in an interview series to be conducted throughout the course of the 2013-14 agricultural season. Additionally, I am happy for the interviews to be audio recorded as part of this research. I understand that I do not have to answer particular questions if I do not want to and that I can withdraw at any time without consequences to myself.

In addition, I am happy for photographs to be taken of my property. I understand I will have an opportunity to review the photographs taken on my property and will be able to request to have them deleted or omitted from further use in the research project.

I agree that research data gathered from the results of the study may be published provided my name or any identifying data is not used. I have also been informed that I may not receive any direct benefits from participating in this study.

I understand that all information provided by me is treated as confidential and will not be released by the researcher to a third party unless required to do so by law.

______Signature of Participant Date

Investigator

I have fully explained to ______the nature and purpose of the research, the procedures to be employed, and the possible risks involved. I have provided the participant with a copy of the Information Sheet.

______Signature of Investigator Date

______Print Name Position

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Appendix 5: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 1)

(Introduction; thanks for agreeing to participate; explain right to stop or withdraw the interview at any time; go over consent statement; any questions?)

1. Participant information

Demographics: name and age.

What is your family connection to the region? (Prompts: extended family, parents/grandparents)

How long have you been living/working in the Newdegate area?

2. Farm business information

What is the nature of your farm business? (Prompts: acreage, wheat, sheep, barely, canola, mixed)

What is your line of work?

3. Environment

In your experience, have landscape and/or seasonal conditions stayed the same or changed since you or your family started farming here? (Prompt: conditions consistent with historical patterns?)

What are the greatest landscape/seasonal challenges for your farm? (Prompts: past, present, future)

4. Sense of place

How important is it for you to be a farmer? (Prompt: could you imagine yourself doing something else?)

How strong is your connection to this place?

Can you describe your feelings towards the place where you live? (Prompts: could you imagine living anywhere else? Why? Positive/negative?)

Are there places or sites on your property or places in the region that, for you, promote a special sense of well-being? (Prompts: remnant bushland, architecture, waterways, vistas etc.)

How important is this place for your sense of who you are? (Prompt: not at all, a little, a lot)

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What aspect of the farm do you consider to be home? (Prompt: house/homestead, paddocks, bush reserves, the entire property)

5. The impacts of landscape and/or seasonal change

Reflecting for a moment on the landscape/seasonal changes we were discussing previously, have any of these changes affected your relationship or feelings towards this place? (Prompts: past, present, future)

Do landscape/seasonal conditions affect your mental well-being? How? (Prompts: past, present, future) (Specific mental well-being prompts: stress, anxiety, insomnia, worry, doubt, etc).

What are the most stressful times of year for you? (Prompts: seeding, lambing, harvest etc.)

If/when times are tough, do you seek informal or formal means of support to help you cope? (Prompts: talking to other farmers, rural counsellors, spouse, etc.)

6. Maintaining place bonds

Is it important for you to maintain your connection to this place? Why? (Prompts: sense of identity, family tradition, lifestyle etc).

7. Future

What will be the major issues facing your farm in the future? (Prompts: landscape, seasonal, financial, social etc.)

Will future landscape and/or seasonal conditions be more or less favourable for farming in the district and the wider wheat-belt region?

What is the future for the next generations in Newdegate?

8. Other

Are there any other experiences related to this topic that you would like to share?

Any questions that you would like to ask me?

Thank the participant for their time. Offer the participant a copy of the interview audio for further comment.

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Appendix 6: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 2)

Participant information

Can you tell me briefly of your history on this farm? (Prompts:

• years living on current farm • years living on a farm • years living in Newdegate • what was it like when you first arrived here (or growing up here?) • Living arrangements- build own house?

How many hours do you spend working on the farm per week?

**see spread sheets for other demographics

Climate (long-term) and weather (short-term) observations

Can you describe the normal long-term climate patterns for the region? (prompts: timing and amount of rainfall, prevailing winds, frosts)

• Opening, • follow-up, • finishing, • harvest

Have seasonal conditions over the past few years been consistent with these long term climate patterns? (prompt: if change-when did they begin to notice changes?)

Have growing season conditions this year been normal or abnormal? (prompt: in what sense?)

Has Newdegate historically been considered a ‘safe’ region? Has that sentiment changed for you over recent years?

Will Newdegate, as an agricultural region, become more or less ‘safe’ into the future?

You mentioned before that seasonal weather conditions over the past X number of years have been X, Y, and Z:

• What do you think caused (or has been causing) this? (prompt: natural variability, climate change?) • What climate trends or patterns do you expect in the future? • Will farmers need to adapt to future climate conditions?

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Sources and confidence in weather information

What source of information is most important for your knowledge of long-term historical climate patterns in the region? Rank:

• Personal experience • Personal experiences of older farmers • BOM • Agronomists or other ag experts • Other

What source of information is most important for your day-to-day knowledge of the weather?

• BOM forecasts • Elders forecasts • Radio forecasts • TV forecasts • Environmental signs or cues • Personal judgements • Mobile phone weather apps

How much confidence do you have in:

• daily forecasts; • seasonal forecasts; • long-term regional climate projections

How often do you check weather forecasts? (prompt: more/less in bad seasons? )

Farm Management sensitivity to weather

What were your expectations for this season at the beginning of the year? (prompt: in for a good, normal, bad season?)

Has your confidence in this season changed since the beginning of the year?

In your opinion, to what extent are the decisions you make on your farm influenced by the weather? (prompt: more or less than it used to be?)

With regard to the weather, has it been easier or harder to make farm management decisions this year as compared to previous years?

Do you take historical weather patterns into consideration when making farm management decisions? (prompt: do you look back through weather records, identify trends and make decisions on the basis of these trends?)

Do you take climate forecasts into consideration when making farm management decisions? (prompts:

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• daily weather forecasts • seasonal weather forecasts • long-term climate models

On your farm, who has the responsibility for making farm management decisions? (prompt: What is your partner’s role on the farm?)

Without sounding too quaint, to what degree are farm management decisions made with your head or with your heart? (prompt: is there a clear separation?)

Is there a sense of ‘family heritage’ or consideration of the next generation that weighs into your decision making on the farm?

Environmental conditions and wellbeing

In a personal sense, has your sensitivity to the weather changed in your time here? (prompt: do you notice the weather more than you used to?

Do rainfall events impact your mood or thinking? (Prompt: if so, how? More or less intensely than they used to?)

Has your confidence in the consistency of seasonal weather patterns changed in any way in your time farming here?

(BREAK) Place identity

Is your mood or sense of wellbeing is connected to the physical condition of the farm? (prompt: are you stressed if your farm appears to be stressed?)

• What about your partner’s mood?

Do you think the ‘look’ or appearance of the farm reflects the farmer’s personality or character? (prompt: what can you infer about a farmer by the ‘look’ of a farm or the management practices they employ?)

Is your sense of identity connected or tied to the farm? (prompt: is the farm part of how you define yourself?)

• Is your partner’s identity tied to the farm?

In the previous round of interviews some people indicated that certain environmental or climatic conditions (such as wind erosion) can make them feel as though they are ‘bad farmers’. For you, are there any environmental conditions make you (or your partner) lose confidence in yourself? (prompt: or doubt your abilities as a farmer?)

Is there a difference in the way you see yourself as a farmer between good seasons and bad seasons? (Prompt: confidence, ability, or how ‘good’ you think you are as a farmer)

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Succession

Is it important to you for the farm to remain in the family?

If the farm was to end up outside the family, would you have a preference for the farm to be owned and managed by:

• another farming family, or • a company or corporation? Why?

Place Attachment

Are you more strongly attached to your farm or to Newdegate?

If you were not farming, would you continue to live in Newdegate?

Could you farm anywhere else?

Is it important for you to own your own farm? (prompt: is it important for the farm to be owned by your family?)

If you did not own it, do you think it would change your relationship or feelings towards the land?

Who do you think has a stronger attachment to the farm (rank)

o Farmers who inherited the family farm o New land farmers who cleared their own blocks o Farmers who own and manage their own farms (not inherited and did not clear their land) o Farm managers (not owners)

Do you think the decision to move year 7’s into high school impacts the children’s attachment to, or their want to farm?

Home-work relationships

On the farm, are work and home environments clearly defined? (prompt: why do you think that is?)

Can you switch off from the farm when at home? (Prompts:

• Easier/harder to do in difficult seasons? • easier/harder to do during particular times of year?

Can your partner switch off from the farm while at home? (Prompts:

• if no: how does this impact you or the family?

Do you have a work-life balance on the farm? (prompts;

• if yes: how do you manage to maintain it?

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• If no: does this impact you in any way?

Does the work-life balance become strained during:

• particular times of year, and • during bad seasons?

Do you think the work-life balance is easier or harder to maintain than it used to be? (prompt: why?)

For you, is farming a job or a lifestyle? What are the:

• Positive aspects • Negative aspects.

Is the farming lifestyle (or job) unique? If so, how?

Finishing questions:

For you personally, how important is it for you to have a good season this year? (prompt: emotionally, psychologically, confidence)

How important is it for the community to have a good season this year?

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Appendix 7: Community Member Interview Schedule (Round 3)

2013 season review

How was the 2013 season for you?

(prompts: financially; emotionally; broader community)

Was 2013 a normal season?

Was 2013 a ‘crucial’ season for you, or the broader community?

(prompts: financially; emotionally)

How will the 2013 season impact your farm management decision making this year and into the future?

(prompts: confidence; decision-making time frames)

Adaptation and its motivation

Have you changed your farming practices or management style over the last decade? If so, what has motivated you to adopt new farming practices?

(Prompts: climate conditions; economic conditions; social conditions)

Do you think Newdegate farmers have a more progressive attitude towards the adoption of new farming technologies and practices than farmers in other areas of the Wheatbelt? If so, why?

(Prompts: isolation; marginal rainfall region)

Do your emotional feelings for this place, your sense of place, enter into your farm management decision making? If so, how?

Are emotional connections to the farm necessary to be a ‘good farmer’?

If you were faced with a situation in which conditions became too difficult to remain profitable, are you more likely to:

• change your occupation, • change your location or • change the way you manage your farming business?

Do you think your emotional connections to your farm motivate you to try new and innovative farming practices?

(Prompt: your want to remain on your home-farm motivates you to try new farming practices?)

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What factor/s would make you consider leaving the farm?

(Prompt: financial; social/community; lifestyle; health)

Resilience

Do you think farmers in Newdegate are more or less (mentally) resilient to adverse seasonal conditions than farmers in others areas of the Wheatbelt? Why?

Do you think farmers with strong emotional connections to their farms are more or less resilient in the face of adversity than those who may not have those emotional connections?

(Prompt: e.g. willingness to ensure hardship)

Perceptions of climate change risk and impact

How much control do you have over your circumstances from season to season?

Do you currently consider climate change to be a major threat to your business/lifestyle?

Do you think climate change will be a major threat to your business/lifestyle into the future?

(prompt: if so, do you think you will be able to meet these challenges?)

Sense of place

Do you feel sentimentally/emotionally connected to your farm? If so, do you think the strength of this emotion is as strong as those in previous generations?

(Prompt: if a family farm: your grandparents; your parents?)

Do you think your view of the farm is more or less business-orientated than previous generations?

(Prompt: if ‘more’, why?)

In the last round of interviews several people suggested farm managers would not have the same emotional connections to the farm or the land as farmers who own and manage their own farms. Do you agree with this and, if so, why?

How much of your emotional tie to your farm is centred around family or to the farm property itself?

(Prompt: Can you separate the two or are they intertwined?)

Future

Will ‘normal’ seasonal conditions ever return to Newdegate?

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(Prompt: when? If no, why not? What do you think the ‘new normal’ will look like?)

How confident are you for the future for farming families in Newdegate?

(prompt: what are the major issues or challenges facing Wheatbelt farmers into the future?)

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Appendix 8: Information Statement and Consent Form (Key Informants)

This research project sets out to address these gaps. Findings from the research project will be used to inform relevant community and governmental bodies of the environmental challenges being faced by farmers in Newdegate, and the way in which these challenges impact farmers’ sense of place and wellbeing. Given the many and various environmental challenges being faced by farmers across Australia, your participation in this research project will be of great interest and importance to farmers, agricultural departments and rural community organisations throughout the Wheatbelt and across Australia.

Who can participate in the research? I am seeking the views of key informants who can offer specialised insight into the environmental, social, political, and economic contexts of the Newdegate community and the Wheatbelt region. I am also seeking persons with intimate historical knowledge of the town and the wider Wheatbelt.

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What would you be asked to do? You are asked to take part in an interview of about 45 minutes in duration. The interview will be conducted at a time and a place of your convenience. The interview will consist of semi-structured questions pertaining to your role within the community/organisation, your opinion on the significant environmental, social, political, and/or economic issues facing the Newdegate community and the wider Wheatbelt region, and your views on the future of the Newdegate community and the Wheatbelt.

What are the risks and benefits? This study offers you the opportunity to share your experiences and views about an issue of considerable community and regional interest throughout the Wheatbelt and across Australia. Although there may be no immediate benefits to individuals or groups, your participation will contribute to a better understanding of the environmental challenges facing Australian farmers and the way in which these challenges may impact their daily experiences and wellbeing. Findings from this research will be provided to relevant community organisations and governmental departments.

How will your privacy be protected? All information will be confidential to myself and my supervisors and will be stored securely at the School of Management and Governance at Murdoch University. You will have the opportunity to request to be referred to via a pseudonym during interview. In addition, all identifiers will be removed in future publications and presentations. Research data will be retained for a minimum of five years at a secured location in the School of Management and Governance at Murdoch University as required by legislation.

How will information be collected and used? A summary of information from this study will be made available to interested individuals and groups, local media organisations, and governmental departments throughout the Wheatbelt. Results will be published as part of the researcher’s own PhD thesis and in future academic journal articles and conference presentations. If individuals contact and request information, they will be given a prepared summary sheet of the research findings. The Newdegate community will be presented with a copy of the PhD thesis once completed. No identifying material will be used except by prior agreement.

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Step 2: Interview If you agree to participate, the interview will be conducted at a time and a place of your choosing. The interview will take about 45 minutes and will be digitally recorded with your permission. You will be able to review, edit or erase the recording if you so wish and will have opportunity to request a copy of the audio recording for further comment. At the end of the study you will be sent a letter thanking you for your participation and providing you with a summary of the research findings.

Further Information Further information about this research can be obtained from:

Neville Ellis (B. Psych Hons.) PhD Candidate Murdoch University Sustainability Division of the School of Management and Governance Mob: 0424936708 [email protected]

Professor Glenn Albrecht Murdoch University Sustainability Division of the School of Management and Governance Telephone (08) 9360 6103 [email protected]

Associate Professor Jan Gothard Murdoch University School of Arts Telephone: (08) 9360 2998 [email protected]

Complaints This project has been approved by the University’s Human Research Ethics Committee (application No. 2012/220). Should you have concerns about your rights as a participant in this research, or you have a complaint about the manner in which the research is conducted, it may be given to the researcher, or, if an independent person is preferred, to the Human Research Ethics Officer, Research Office, The Chancellery, Murdoch University. South St, Murdoch, WA, 6150, Australia, telephone (08) 9360 6677, email [email protected].

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Consent Form (Return) for the Research Project:

(Key Informants)

Participant

I am happy to be interviewed and for it to be audio recorded as part of this research project. I understand that I do not have to answer particular questions if I do not want to and that I can withdraw at any time without consequences to myself.

I understand that all information provided by me is treated as confidential and will not be released by the researcher to a third party unless required to do so by law.

______Signature of Participant Date

Investigator

______Signature of Investigator Date

______Print Name Position

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Appendix 9: Seasonal Rainfall Trends (mm/10yr) in Western Australia for the Period 1970/71 to 2014/15

a. Autumn

b. Winter

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c. Spring

d. Summer

Source: BoM (2016)

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Appendix 10: Monthly Rainfall Change Newdegate 1981-2010 as Compared with 1961-1990

Source: BoM (2016)

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Appendix 11: Historical Annual Stream-flows into Perth Dams (GL/year)

Source: Water Corporation as cited in NCCARF (2013)

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