Iconic Lands: Wilderness As a Reservation Criterion for World Heritage

Home , Franklin River, Gondwana Rainforests, Lake Murchison, Murchison Highway, Nelson Falls, Scotts Peak Dam Road

ICONIC LANDS

Wilderness as a reservation criterion for World Heritage

Mario Gabriele Roberto Rimini

A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Institute of Environmental Studies University of New South Wales April 2010

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My gratitude goes to the Director of the Institute of Environmental Studies, John Merson, for the knowledge and passion he shared with me and for his trust, and to the precious advice and constant support of my co-supervisor, Stephen Fortescue.

My family, their help and faith, have made this achievement possible.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER I Introduction ………………………………………………………………………….…...…… 8 Scope and Rationale.………………………………………………………………………….…...…………. 8 Background…………………………………………………………………………………………………… 12 Methodology…………………………………………………………………………………………………. 22 Structure…………………………………………………………………………………………………….... 23

CHAPTER II The Wilderness Idea ……………………………………………………………………...... 27 Early conceptions …………………………………………………………………………………………..... 27 American Wilderness: a world model …………………………………………………….....………………. 33 The Wilderness Act: from ideal to conservation paradigm …………………………………...... …………. 43 The values of wilderness ……………………………………………………………………….…………… 48 Summary ………………………………………………………………………………………….…………. 58

CHAPTER III Wilderness as a conservation and land management category worldwide …………...... 61 The US model: wilderness legislation in Canada, New Zealand and Australia …………………………… 61 Canada: a wilderness giant ………………………………………………………………………..…...... 64 Wilderness purism in New Zealand ………………………………………………………………….……… 66 Australian wilderness: a World Heritage saga …………………………………………………….………… 68 The Wilderness Continuum: advocating wilderness protection as a management-focused policy ..………. 77 Wilderness as a global conservation paradigm……………………………………………..……...... 82 Summary …………………………………………………………………………………………….……….. 86

CHAPTER IV A genetic affinity: the wilderness idea and the “iconic” dimension of World Heritage…… 88 The cultural birthmark ………………………………………………………………………………………... 88 Nature as World Heritage …………………………………………………………………………………….. 91 The original wilderness legacy in the World Heritage Convention .……………………………....…………. 95 The criterion of integrity: the wilderness embedded ……………………………………………….……….... 101 The departure from the wilderness idea………………………………….………………………....……….... 107 The question of effectiveness ……..………………………………………………………………………….. 124 The burden of State sovereignty …………………………………………………………………....……….... 128 The World Heritage List: iconic power……….…………………………………………………....…………. 139 Summary ………………………………………………………………………………………….…………... 141

CHAPTER V The political effectiveness of the synergy between wilderness and World Heritage….……. 144 Birth of an icon: from Lake Pedder to the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area …………………… 144 3

The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area: an overview …………………………………...………… 153 The TWWHA model: influence on the national wilderness preservation politics.. …………………………. 164 Global wilderness preservation and World Heritage: opportunities and potential .………………………..... 176 The Southern Forests: the need for a World Heritage Wilderness criterion……………………………...... 182 The forest failure……………………………………………………………………………………………… 186 Summary……………………………………………………………………………………………………… 190

CHAPTER VI World Heritage wilderness as an economic development opportunity ……………………. 193 Ecotourism, wilderness and Tasmania’s brand ……………………………………………………………… 193 Tourism on Tasmania’s West Coast: a gateway to World Heritage wilderness …………………………….. 199 The Queenstown Geopark Project: World Heritage, wilderness and cultural change………………………. 208 The Tarkine: Tasmania’s up and coming wilderness mecca………………………………………………… 211 Summary …………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 215

CONCLUSIONS …………………………………………………………………………………………… 216

REFERENCES ……………………………………………………………………………………..……... 224

LIST OF FIGURES

Fig. 1 Wilderness Quality in Tasmania, Source: Parks and Wildlife Service 2004………………….…..….... 81 Fig. 2 TWWHA zoning, Source: Parks And Wildlife Service 2002 ………………………..……………..…. 160 Fig. 3 TWWHA Land Tenure, Source: Parks and Wildlife Service 2004 …………………..…………….…. 161 Fig. 4 The Tarkine region in North West Tasmania………………………………………………………….. 165 Fig 5 The reserve system in the Tarkine……………………………………………………………………… 171 Fig 6 Nelson Falls, marking the entrance to the TWWHA from Queenstown on the West Coast………….. 195 Fig. 7 The peak of Cradle Mountain seen from Lake Dove, TWWHA …………………….……………..… 196 Fig. 8 The Gordon River………………………………………………………………………………...... 199 Fig. 9 Rainforest reflected in the tannin-stained waters of the Gordon River………………………………. 200 Fig. 10 The Queenstown Moonscape………………………………………………………………………... 202 Fig. 11 The waterfront at Strahan……………………………………………………………………………. 205 Fig. 12 Lake St Clair, with Cradle Mountain in the background……………………………………………. 207 Fig. 13 Gateway towns and transport routes in the Tarkine region…………………………………………. 213 Table 1 Tasmanian Visitors Survey………………………………………………………………………….. 203

ACRONYMS / ABBREVIATIONS

CBD – Convention on Biological Diversity CITES – Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species CNPPA – Commission on National Parks and Protected Areas DAFF –Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry DEH – Department of Environment and Heritage DTSR – Department of Tourism, Sports and Recreation HEAT – Hydro Employees Action Team HEC – Hydro-Electric Commission IUCN – International Union for the Conservation of Nature TWWHA – Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area UNEP – United Nations Environmental Program UNESCO – United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization WCMC – World Conservation Monitoring Centre WCPA – World Commission on Protected Areas WHC – World Heritage Centre

ABSTRACT Wilderness is crucial for global conservation. Contemporary research established that between 33% and 52% of the Earth qualifies as wilderness. It is a fragile, threatened resource which needs a global conservation framework. This role could be successfully fulfilled by the World Heritage Convention. The founding notion of the World Heritage idea – Outstanding Universal Value – bears a striking resemblance to the attributes and characteristics of wilderness. The two notions possess an undisputable cultural and historic affinity, embodied by their “iconic” dimension. This makes the synergy between wilderness and World Heritage extraordinarily effective, as the history of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area demonstrates. The Franklin Dam dispute, solved after the World Heritage nomination of the Tasmanian wilderness, is emblematic in this respect. It gave birth to the world’s only protected area which includes close to 100% of the local wilderness resource, and which coincides entirely with World Heritage status. The classic wilderness character of the region matched and enhanced the iconic power of the World Heritage, and the outcome represented a watershed for Australia’s wilderness politics. Locally, it also paved the way for the establishment of a thriving ecotourism industry, providing the core of Tasmania’s “green” brand. Its lesson is still invoked in unresolved wilderness conflicts throughout the country, and could be applied to other similar international contexts, as a model of proactive wilderness reservation through World Heritage nomination and of economic development based on wilderness tourism. On the other hand, despite the cultural affinity wilderness was never chosen as a criterion for World Heritage identification, and therefore the Convention cannot coherently fulfill this role of wilderness protection framework before solving this paradox. The unresolved dispute over Tasmania’s wilderness forests indicates that the lack of an official endorsement of wilderness as a World Heritage criterion deprives the Convention of the conceptual tools needed to successfully address those environmental conflicts affecting existing World Heritage areas, in which the resource at stake is namely wilderness. Including wilderness as a World Heritage criterion would fill this gap and provide the global community with an effective framework for the preservation of remaining wilderness regions.

CHAPTER I

Scope and rationale

In today’s global conservation agenda, wilderness counts. According to the leading studies of the remaining wilderness resource, between 33% and 52% of the Earth is still in almost pristine condition - what can be called a wilderness (Mittermeier et al. 2003). This chunk of intact globe is crucial for the global goals of conservation. It is made of regions that possess the attributes which made wilderness relevant for centuries: a mix of anthropocentric and bio-centric values which gives it a priceless significance for humanity. In addition, some of these wilderness areas are also crucial biodiversity hotspots, and have the best chances, given their size and wholeness, to preserve biological diversity. The vast majority of the remaining wilderness, though, is unprotected and under siege. So, how to address the impellent question of preserving it? Is there a regime of preservation that would be particularly appropriate for global wilderness regions? The argument of this thesis is that such a regime already exists, and it is one of the most successful nature conservation systems at the international level. It is the World Heritage Convention. This assumption is underpinned by solid evidence on one hand, and undermined by a major challenge on the other. The World Heritage Convention is the environmental conservation regime that would be more appropriate for wilderness preservation. This is due to the cultural affinity between the idea of wilderness and the World Heritage idea. Both are cultural constructs that share a common origin – or better, the wilderness idea has provided the World Heritage with an array of conceptual, philosophical and cultural contributions that have shaped its character and scope. Wilderness and World Heritage are both cultural ideas, which have in their iconic value their strongest asset. The wilderness tradition has converged in the World Heritage birth process - and the founding notion of Outstanding Universal Value, which defines World Heritage, has a striking resemblance with the traditional characteristics of wilderness. Despite such strong philosophical and conceptual link, though, there is no such thing as an official World Heritage wilderness criterion. The cultural relation between the two ideas has failed to become an operational concept, and wilderness has not been included as an autonomous criterion for World Heritage 8

identification. The resulting paradox is that the conservation system that has more in common with wilderness, and which would be a perfect match as a regime for proactive global wilderness preservation, doesn’t recognize wilderness as an explicit, autonomous criterion that could be prioritized. In addition, given its lack of operational use of the wilderness concept, the Convention is not geared to address the issues affecting World Heritage properties in which the main feature is wilderness. And yet, the reasons for recognition of wilderness as an official World Heritage criterion are strong. To grasp them, it is useful to take a look at the history of a very particular World Heritage property: the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area (TWWHA). The TWWHA is special because it is the only region in the world that protects close to 100% of the local wilderness resource, which is entirely reserved under the World Heritage Convention. It is also one of only two World Heritage properties that fulfill the highest set of natural and cultural criteria of Outstanding Universal Value – a total of seven out of ten, among them the entire range of four criteria set by the Convention to identify the World Heritage significance of natural areas. This is not by chance. The underlying thesis here is that wilderness indeed mirrors the entire spectrum of values that define the Outstanding Universal Value which identifies World Heritage properties - the mix of bio-centric and anthropocentric values such as beauty, integrity, ecosystem resilience and naturalness. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, in other words, is the world’s best example of a complete synergy between the iconic value of wilderness and the iconic power of the World Heritage Convention. The outcome of such alliance has been extraordinary in the political and economic spheres. The Tasmanian wilderness resource was threatened by economic development, driven by extractive industries. After decades of struggle, it received long lasting protection as a World Heritage site in which wilderness represented the essence of its natural values. This occurred in the wake of Australia’s most bitter and well-known environmental dispute – the fight to save the wild Franklin River from a dam. Its effect was not only local, but national. It reshaped the environmental politics of Australia, by redefining the balance of power between the Federal Government and the States and the scope for the intervention of the former in environmental disputes that threaten the values of wilderness regions of World Heritage significance. It served as an unsurpassed model of successful environmental and conservation politics, which is still

echoing today. The lessons of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area are significant both historically, and as a contemporary model of proactive wilderness conservation. Historically, it had a major impact in some of the most successful campaigns to protect regions of significant wilderness value that have received World Heritage status in Australia - such as Kakadu in the Northern Territory and the Wet Tropics in Queensland. The lesson of the Franklin River about the power and effectiveness of the synergy between World Heritage and wilderness icons is still invoked in major environmental disputes throughout the country – from Cape York to the Kimberley, to the Tarkine in Tasmania. Internationally, the World Heritage Convention could also play a major role as a wilderness preservation system along the lines observed in Tasmania. The interest of the Tasmanian model is justified primarily by the fact that countries that share with Australia a similar cultural, social and political history and in which the historic wilderness idea has thrived, also possess crucial chunks of the remaining wilderness resource. The main study on remaining wilderness areas (Mittermeier et al. 2003), sets the benchmark of wilderness identification in the contemporary context. It locates 37 major remaining wilderness regions worldwide, which have over 70% of their historic range intact and a population density below 5 inhabitants/km2. It can be a departure point to identify regions in which the Tasmanian model of wilderness preservation through World Heritage nomination can be applied due to the affinity of social, cultural, economic and political context. First and foremost, traditional wilderness countries – the United States, Canada, and New Zealand - are natural contexts in which the Tasmanian example could be used. Such countries share with Australia the legacy of Anglo-Saxon settlers societies and their approach to nature, with wilderness being a crucial component of it. A great portion of the remaining wilderness, as Mittermeier’s (ibid) study shows, is located in these countries. Furthermore, the World Heritage Convention is already influential and successful in many other socio-cultural contexts, and this leverage could be used effectively to protect endangered wilderness. In some cases, the task could be facilitated by a cultural affinity, such as the case of Russia which alone contains a great share of the remaining wilderness areas. The country possesses a tradition of nature perception and conservation – the zapovednik model - that has a lot of similarities with the wilderness idea, and could be highly receptive to it.

More in general, the success and appeal of the World Heritage Convention makes it an obvious candidate for providing a framework for wilderness conservation at the global level. Despite this potential, a serious obstacle exists. The fact that the World Heritage Convention doesn’t possess a clear, autonomous wilderness criterion means it cannot, at present, become a proactive instrument of conservation policy aimed at securing large swaths of the remaining global wilderness. If any wilderness is protected within its system, it is currently in the frame of different reservation criteria and paradigms, as a de facto wilderness and without an ad hoc recognition. The absence of such a criterion also undermines the effectiveness of the Convention as a supranational institution in which unresolved wilderness disputes, closely affecting existing World Heritage Areas, can be positively addressed. This is proven, again, by the Tasmanian case study. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area was born “mutilated”, according to the environmentalists. Its best and most iconic forested regions were left out of the nomination to accommodate the interests of forestry. This has been the single most bitter and divisive issue for the Tasmanian society over decades. The dispute has been taken to the World Heritage Convention, on the basis that the destruction of the unprotected forests posed a threat to the wholeness of the World Heritage property. In a word, to its wilderness character. The Convention, though, failed to solve the conflict, because it could not grasp the “wilderness” nature of it. It responded with arguments that were scientific and not cultural, and by relying on the paradigm of “representation” rather than iconic value. The lack of a wilderness criterion represented a significant shortcoming in addressing this critical wilderness dispute. The potential benefits of a wilderness criterion for World Heritage are not restricted to the political sphere. They are also economic. The Tasmanian case demonstrates that coupling the two ideas can have huge development potential for local communities on the edge of World Heritage wilderness regions. The West Coast of Tasmania, which has marketed itself as a gateway to the wilderness wonders of the World Heritage area, has thrived thanks to the establishment of a successful ecotourism industry, which has reversed the decline of a typical mining region previously dominated by the boom and bust cycles of extractive industries. If anywhere in the world solid evidence can be found of the value of the World Heritage brand for tourism, this is certainly in Tasmania. But the point here is that wilderness was the key feature that determined the effectiveness of the World Heritage brand as a catalyst for tourism

development. Wilderness has ideally matched the iconic, symbolic, exceptional dimension contained in the World Heritage brand. It has been a mutual, effective nurturing relation. The above-mentioned arguments support the idea that the World Heritage Convention can be the best option for a global regime of wilderness preservation. For this aim, though, wilderness needs to be introduced as an explicit reservation criterion, so that it can be prioritized in the agenda-making and planning. This would allow the Convention to properly address those environmental conflicts in which wilderness is the crucial object at stake. In addition, the traditional excellence of wilderness as a recreational resource can meet the economic promise of the World Heritage brand, and in turn become a tool of long term, sustainable development for local communities recognized as gateways to the unique values of World Heritage wilderness regions.

Background

The Convention for the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage, better known as the World Heritage Convention, has been in existence for 38 years. Over this long period, it has never ceased to grow and to transform. It has shown an extraordinary adaptability as well as the ability to reinvent its scope and mechanisms, in order to keep pace with the development of conservation theory and practice worldwide. Nature conservation is a major goal of the Convention, and to present 176 natural sites and 25 mixed sites have been included in the conservation system of the Convention (WHC 2010). The core of the World Heritage idea is the notion of ‘Outstanding Universal Value’. The thesis underpinning this research is that there is a conceptual and cultural affinity between such notion and the oldest “cultural” paradigm of nature conservation: the idea of wilderness. This research retraces the conceptual roots of the World Heritage endeavor in the perception of nature as iconic, typical of the European Romantic movement (Nash 1982; Oelschlaeger 1991). It follows the development of this perspective on the natural world through the experience of British settlers in the United States, where the contemporary wilderness idea was born (Nash 1982; Stankey 1989; Hall 1991; Vale 2004). It highlights the key features of the traditional wilderness idea – such as the unique combination of anthropocentric and bio-centric values

attributed to it – which contribute to make the notion the most undefined, contested and yet powerful and symbolic of all conservation paradigms (Godfrey-Smith 1978; McKenry 1978; Hamilton-Smith 1978; Nash 1982; Henning 1987; Dearden 1989; Noss 1991; Hall 1991; Wright 1994; Mittermeier et al. 2003; Vale 2004). This historical reconstruction of the roots and meaning of the wilderness idea unfolds through the philosophies and intellectual sensibilities of the American wilderness heralds, such as Henry David Thoreau, Aldo Leopold, John Muir, Robert Marshall (Leopold 1921; Marshall 1930; Nash 1982). It combines notions such as wilderness experience, spiritual regeneration, aesthetic values, ecosystem integrity, remoteness, naturalness and pristineness, all tenets of the wilderness idea throughout its evolution. It highlights the intrinsic perception of a special quality of the wilderness resource, of its outstanding value. In a word, its value as an icon. It also emphasizes that wilderness has always been a contested notion, that its history is paved with misunderstandings, lack of clarity and ambiguity. That it is a cultural construct. The cultural nature of the wilderness idea is a strength, which has provided wilderness with its resilience and inspirational potential. This thesis argues that the same characteristics – an original prominence of the cultural dimension over science; a combination of anthropocentric and eco-centric values; a crucial role of aesthetic and symbolic aspects; and a problem with clear definitions and directions – define the key notion of Outstanding Universal Value which is used to identify World Heritage values. It postulates an affinity between wilderness and World Heritage, and it retraces, in the criteria set out by the Convention to define Outstanding Universal Value, the signs and hints of the philosophical link to the wilderness concept. Such affinity, for example, is evident in the criterion of integrity (UNESCO 1972), which closely recalls one of the tenets of wilderness, its supposed “wholeness” – a nature which is “untrammeled”, or undisturbed, by human interference (Nash 1982; McCloskey 1966; Foreman 2000); the very mix of anthropocentric and bio-centric values reflected in the four criteria that define the Outstanding Universal Value mirrors the essence of the wilderness idea. This research also points to a paradox: the cultural link between wilderness and World Heritage has not been translated into an operational alliance. This means that wilderness has never been chosen as a defining, autonomous World Heritage criterion. There is no such thing as a World Heritage wilderness area, and wilderness by itself is not a criterion to inscribe a property in the

World Heritage List (WHC 2008). The analysis of the reasons why this original connection has been “forgotten” highlights that the Convention has aspired to become a universal conservation system and a highly technical one. The progressive detachment from “cultural” conservation in favor of “science” is to be found in the process of growth and refinement of the World Heritage as a contemporary, global system of nature conservation. The emergence of new paradigms such as biodiversity (Wilson 1992) has profoundly modified the way conservationists “think” about nature. Science has prevailed over culture in the name of universalism, cultural relativism and specialization. The original “iconic” perception of nature has been replaced by objective, scientific principles. The perceived bias of the early conceptions of nature, which were influenced by a typically “Eurocentric” attitude and too dependent on a historical set of circumstances such as those in which the North American wilderness movement emerged (Nash 18982; Callicot and Nelson 1998), have progressively been exposed and condemned: wilderness has been criticized for being culturally biased, naively conceived, scientifically inappropriate, artificial, and even racist and genocidal (Callicot 2000; Cronon 1998; Callicot and Nelson 1998). This has sanctioned a decline in the use and accreditation of the wilderness idea within the scientific community engaged in conservation. A parallel development occurred within the World Heritage Convention. Its growth and specialization embedded the most advanced conservation theories, transforming it from an eminently cultural endeavor to a highly technical system of nature conservation. The Convention joined the range of global environmental regimes in the United Nations galaxy. It became a partner in the effort to preserve biodiversity, a player in the eradication of poverty and in the quest for sustainability, a tenet of the Millennium Development Goals. It transformed into a very technical and scientific regime, under the guidance of the World Conservation Union (IUCN 1997; IUCN 2004; IUCN 2005; IUCN 2008; IUCN 2009). It embraced biological diversity as the main goal of global conservation. In doing so, however, it lost something of its original uniqueness. This evolution meant a progressive abandonment of the “iconic”, in favor of the “representative” (Cameron 2005, Rossler 2005); a preference for scientific criteria over cultural ones (IUCN 2004); the embrace of concepts like cultural landscapes, ecosystem approach, integrated landscape/seascape policy (IUCN 2008; UNESCO 2002; UNESCO 2004; UNESCO 2007; UNESCO 2007b; UNESCO

2009). All these valuable and respected conservation concepts and strategies have signaled a sharp departure from the wilderness idea and its basic assumptions on how natural heritage is perceived. The transformation of the World Heritage idea into a specialized environmental regime has somehow altered its philosophical roots, and shifted its focus. The result has been an operational detachment from the wilderness idea and its iconic dimension, and a consequent lowering of the benchmark of what is meant by World Heritage value (Cameron 2005). The evolution which has made the Convention into one of the most successful conservation systems globally, though, is incomplete without wilderness. The Convention is the most suitable regime to tackle the question of the preservation of remaining global wilderness, but without a wilderness criterion embedded in its system, this role cannot be fulfilled. Despite its close affinity with the original wilderness idea, and its intrinsically cultural essence, of all the conservation paradigms that have guided nature preservation during the last century the only one that has not be officially retained by the Convention is wilderness, although wilderness values are considered by IUCN when it carries out an assessment of potential World Heritage sites (UNESCO 1972; IUCN 1994; IUCN 2008). Wilderness is a crucial element within many World Heritage sites, but only as a management category or de facto status, rather than an official conservation criterion (WHC 2010). But why is wilderness important for the World Heritage Convention? The answer to this question represents the core argument of this research. First, wilderness matters. The size and relative intactness of the wilderness resource still existing on Earth makes it a crucial target for conservation strategies (Mittermeier et al 2003; McCloskey and Spalding 1988; Hannah et al 1994; Sanderson et al. 2002). Second, the explicit, proactive association with the wilderness idea has an extraordinary potential to boost the effectiveness of the Word Heritage in two main spheres: politics and economics. The iconic value of the World Heritage idea can be matched an enhanced by the iconic value of wilderness. This synergy and its effects are evident particularly in one example, which constitutes the case study of this research: the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. The name is eloquent enough. Nowhere in the world there exists a clearer association between wilderness and World Heritage. The most authoritative study about remaining global wilderness regions shows that the only example worldwide of a wilderness region that is entirely protected, and coincides wholly with a World Heritage nomination, is the Tasmanian Wilderness (Mittermeier et al 2003). The history

of this region demonstrates that such alliance of two cultural notions can be a powerful tool to preserve natural areas that are contested between the reasons of conservation and the drive for natural resource exploitation. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area (TWWHA) is the most significant example of the powerful association between wilderness and World Heritage, as a tool to achieve the preservation of disputed natural areas. Its success is found both at the political and at the economic levels. The key feature of the political and economic dimensions of the TWWHA is the demonstration of the prominent role wilderness could play as a successful criterion of conservation on one hand and of sustainable development tool through tourism on the other. In Tasmania, this is evident in two ways. The first is the fact that the political conflict over the natural resources that have become part of the TWWHA has been won by environmentalists thanks to the conscious, proactive and strategic use of wilderness imagery and symbolism (Hall 1991; Lester 2007; Buckman 2008). The parallel crusade for wilderness preservation and World Heritage reservation has been a successful endeavor because the values of the former perfectly matched those of the latter. The second factor of success goes back to the values and opportunities of the ‘wilderness experience’ as the highest point of nature-based tourism, and to wilderness as an important resource with multiple economic benefits (Tisdell 1978; Morton 1998-1999; Morton 2000; Butler and Boyd 2000; Eagles and McCool 2002; Buckley 2000; Loomis 1991; Clonts 1991; Godfrey and Christy 1991; Loomis an Walsh 1991; Higham 1997; Blamey 1995; Boo 1990; Valentine 1992; Waver 1998). In Tasmania, wilderness images and suggestions have represented the key assets at the basis of the economic development of a region that has positioned itself as the gateway to the TWWHA: the West Coast. The effectiveness of the TWWHA as a tool for the protection of lands otherwise destined to be exploited by extractive industries such as mining and logging resides in this alliance between the cultural and iconic value of the wilderness idea and the World Heritage Convention. The political impact of this match has achieved an extraordinary success in a classic context of conflict over natural resources; while the success of conservation has eventually provided a concrete opportunity for sustainable development through tourism in the remote communities that live around the World Heritage wilderness region. This was achieved thanks to a brand which exploited both the wilderness values and the prestige of the World Heritage status (Matysen and Kriwoken 1997; Buckley 2002). Wilderness in Tasmania has expressed its highest

political, social and economic potential. Its iconic value has been captured by the conservation camp, and it has turned out to be the most effective drive for World Heritage reservation, as well as a useful marketing tool for tourism development. The political dimension of the question in the Tasmanian context is characterized eminently by conflict. Environmental politics in Tasmania have been extremely polarized (Hay 1988; Hay and Howard 1988; Hay 1994; Lester 2007; Buckman 2008). Conservationists have used wilderness as the single most powerful tool of mass mobilization and political confrontation. The conflict, which has focused on the two recurring, associated themes of wilderness and World Heritage, can be divided in two main stages. The first stage coincided with the clash between wilderness advocates and natural resource development in Western Tasmania between the early 1960’s to the early 1980’s. The two main issues of this period of heightened confrontation were the fate of Lake Pedder, in the Southwest region, and the fight to save the Franklin River from hydroelectric development (Davis 1974; Kirkpatrick 1979; Thompson 1981; Solman, Dombrovsky and Brown 1983; Brown 1985; Kellow 1989; Hall 1991; Gee 2001; Buckman 2008). It was during this confrontation that the wilderness idea emerged as an intentional political strategy (Lester 2007). As the analysis of the confrontation shows, the key to its resolution was the iconic value of both wilderness and World Heritage. The saga out of which the TWWHA was born in 1982 was centered on symbols. Culture was its most important feature. The second stage is represented by the ongoing fight to extend the boundaries of the World Heritage property in order to include unreserved old–growth forests that conservationists claim are an integral part of the Western wilderness. Again, the focus of this struggle is the wilderness character of the forests and their relevance for the integrity of the World Heritage wilderness. The argument that portrays the forests as an integral part of wilderness is the mantra of environmentalists, while denying this point is the strategy of the logging industry and the political establishment that backs them. To quote an example, former “Minister for Forests Tony Rundle said the existence of the so-called Tarkine wilderness was the biggest lie ever told by the conservation movement; it had ‘no more wilderness than battery Point’ (Lines 2006), where Battery Point is the colonial heart of old Hobart, the capital of the State. Such statement is a classic attempt to delegitimize the claims of the green movement on the wilderness relevance of the contested region in the North West of Tasmania. Legitimizing the wilderness or

delegitimizing its claims is the core of the conflict. The fight for the Tasmanian forest presents the classic themes of wilderness: aesthetic values, integrity of ecosystems, untouched nature, the impact of roads and human disturbance on pristine natural regions. The clearest example of this aspect is the endless dispute over the fate of the tall, old growth forests extending along the Eastern border of the World Heritage region. Their value is highly symbolic, their status iconic. The tallest flowering hardwood trees in the world are icons of nature, like the giant sequoias in the United States. Beauty and inspiration are their most effective assets. In the assessment of the World Heritage value of the TWWHA on the occasion of its extension in 1989, IUCN highlighted the fact that it represented a mostly undisturbed wilderness, and that the tall wet forests of Eucalyptus regnans represented an aesthetic value (State of the Environment 2003; DEH 2007; Buckman 2008). Two crucial differences exist between the two phases of the conflict over wilderness and World Heritage reservation in Tasmania – the Franklin River dispute and the battle for the forests. The first is the role of the World Heritage Convention itself. The first stage was a state issue which became also a national issue, and only at the last minute it acquired an international dimension. This happened with the passage of the World Heritage Properties Conservation Act in 1983, which halted the construction of the Franklin Dam. Though decisive, the role of the Convention was nonetheless only indirect. It was reflected through a legislative measure and the judicial decision which upheld it. The UNESCO itself had little direct role in the dispute. The issue of the forests, instead, is entirely a World Heritage matter. The Convention is embedded in it as a major player. In this respect, the stage of the Southern forests in Tasmania is a case study in the functioning of the World Heritage as a conservation system. The second notable difference with the Franklin River issue is the outcome of the conflict and of the World Heritage intervention. The extraordinary success of the proclamation of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area, following the Franklin Dam dispute, showed the huge potential of the synergy between wilderness and World Heritage for social mobilization and conservation. The World Heritage was the decisive element in the resolution of the conflict, but its strength derived from the inspirational, symbolic and iconic value of the wilderness resource. What the chapter of the Southern Forests shows, instead, is the impact of the lack of recognition of wilderness as a World Heritage criterion on the effectiveness of the Convention as a framework in which disputes over

the wilderness resource are addressed. The fact that UNESCO didn’t support the claims of environmentalists that the tall, old growth forests are a crucial element of the wilderness value of the TWWHA derives from the lack of acknowledgement of wilderness as a reservation criterion for World Heritage. The NGOs pointed to the crucial role of the forests for the “integrity” of the World Heritage wilderness region, while the Convention referred to the “representativeness” of such ecosystem type within the TWWHA. The gap was clear: iconic versus representative, wilderness versus scientific conservationism. The outcome was a failure to address one of the most long-standing environmental conflicts in Tasmania, which is still the leading cause of division within the Tasmanian society. The other dimension of the question of the effectiveness of the World Heritage wilderness in Tasmania is economic. Together with the political conflict, economic development opportunities have been used to make the case for the protection of Tasmania’s outstanding natural heritage, as an asset for a thriving tourism industry. The emergence of an important tourism sector within an economy traditionally dominated by natural resource exploitation – logging, mining and agriculture – has been a highlight of Tasmania’s development in the last two decades. Tourism has grown to be the State’s largest industry, contributing almost 1.5 billion dollars annually and equaling the State’s traditionally most prominent industry – forestry – as the major source of employment and revenues (Tasmanian Visitor Survey 2007, 2009). The brand on which Tasmania has thrived as a national and international tourism destination is that of a “Natural State” (Matysen and Kriwoken 1997). The State’s natural icons play a major role in the definition of the brand (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999). As a matter of fact, some of the most recognizable and celebrated of such icons are located within the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. It is impossible to establish the concrete influence of the World Heritage area in the tourism development of Tasmania without considering the power and role of such icons (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999). More than visitation statistics, the history and cultural dimension of the TWWHA should be considered first and foremost as a pillar of the appeal and mystery of Tasmania. It is obviously possible to also look at facts and figures, in order to understand the impact of the TWWHA on the economic development of local communities. For this one must look at the West Coast of Tasmania, at its evident transformation following the Franklin Dam dispute and the declaration of the World Heritage region.

The West Coast epitomizes the frontier. Remoteness and wilderness are its essence. This was historically a rugged, isolated region where the single source of income for the local communities was the mining industry. Queenstown is Australia’s quintessential mining town, the place where the nation’s longest-living and most illustrious mine – the Mt Lyell Mining and Railway Company Ltd – operated for 104 years. For many of those years, it was the Commonwealth’s biggest copper mine. Zeehan, today the second largest settlement on the West Coast, was known as ‘Silver City’, and in its heyday it was Tasmania’s third biggest town. Strahan was never big or prominent but it was, literally, the end of the world. It was a port that exported the minerals of the West Coast mines, at the very end of the highway and at the end of an audacious railway which crossed steep mountainous country to bring copper from Queenstown to the ocean. Then there was Rosebery, where zinc was the only reason for settlement. Many other towns and villages existed, which have now disappeared – Pillinger on Macquarie Harbor, once a thriving port which rivaled Strahan, and today a picturesque ensemble of ruins swallowed by the rainforest; Crotty, Linda and Gormanston, once bigger than Queenstown itself and today a barely recognizable patchwork of roads and foundations, where once stood pubs, hotels, public buildings and the houses of miners. A harsh region, where convicts had their worst memories in the Sarah Island penal colony in Macquarie Harbor, and piners created the saga of the Huon Pine, by searching the impenetrable banks of the rivers for the living gold – the prized tree. This was the West Coast of Tasmania, soaked in rain more than any other part of Australia, colder than anywhere else, more mountainous than anywhere else and more remote, isolated and challenging. An outpost in the wilderness. There always were wilderness enthusiasts who travelled all the way to Queenstown or Strahan for the wilderness experience. But it was a marginal phenomenon, and nothing which would have a visible impact on the economy and welfare of the communities. Then came the Franklin Dispute, the blockade of the Dam which started from Strahan, the national and international media attention, and the World Heritage declaration. With this came the blossoming of ecotourism worldwide, and also in Australia. Wilderness became a valuable commodity on the tourism market. The tourists that sailed on the Gordon River or rafted down the Franklin became thousands, and then tens of thousands. Soon they were hundreds of thousands. The tourism industry chose Strahan as its ideal headquarters to sell the most

recognizable product of the West: wilderness. It had an advantage: wilderness had a brand which was the most prestigious possible. It was a World Heritage wilderness. And so, the World Heritage wilderness became the cornucopia thanks to which Strahan transformed from a declining mining port in the midst of an industrial crisis to a sophisticated resort town, famous worldwide. A visit to Strahan today cannot fail to reveal the extent to which the World Heritage declaration has impacted upon the lives and welfare of the local communities. But this has happened because the World Heritage overlapped with a unique type of natural heritage: wilderness. It was the alliance between the two most iconic and symbolic conservation paradigms that made the difference. The economics of the World Heritage tourism in Tasmania cannot be understood without the unshakable connection with wilderness. The Tasmanian Wilderness saga has the potential to serve as a model for proactive wilderness preservation worldwide, using the synergy between the iconic value of wilderness and the cultural and iconic power of the World Heritage idea. The TWWHA has already influenced Australian wilderness politics and policy, with major wilderness battles being won in the name of the association between wilderness and World Heritage (Hall 1991). This banner in which the World Heritage Convention is invoked to protect outstanding wilderness regions is still carried by conservationists throughout the country, in highly contested and symbolic places such as Cape York, the Kimberley and the Tarkine region in the North West of Tasmania. But the model of the Tasmanian wilderness and its World Heritage savior can be applied also internationally. The seminal research by Mittermeier et al (2003) is a useful reference to identify target regions for proactive wilderness conservation strategies in which the World Heritage Convention could be the ideal framework. From the classic wilderness countries like Australia, to socio-cultural contexts in which there exists fertile ground for the wilderness paradigm to thrive – such as Russia and its “zapovednik” tradition – to the four corners of the globe where the Convention is respected and influential, the “best match” between wilderness values and Outstanding Universal Value with its iconic power can boost proactive efforts to protect outstanding wild regions. In turn, wilderness protection can provide the means for economic development through sustainable tourism, cementing the conservation gains and the long term support of local communities. The key to this potential is the acknowledgement of the deep relation between two cultural notions – wilderness and World Heritage – and their iconic power.

Methodology

This study is interdisciplinary and analytical. The methodology of this research draws from multiple layers of disciplines and theories. Three main levels of analysis are conducted here. The first one draws from history, sociology and political science. It retraces the social and political history of the wilderness idea, its application and its categorization as a conservation instrument. It also reviews the environmental history of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area, and it uses the tools of political analysis and cultural interpretation to identify the factors, processes and players that have shaped that history and to understand the social elaboration of the environmental conflict in Tasmania. At the same time, the research conducts a second level of analysis, which draws from the scientific literature regarding wilderness theory on one hand, and the World Heritage Convention as a global regime of nature conservation on the other. It utilizes the approaches to conservation designed by the international community – both at the United Nations level with the World Heritage Convention and its system of nature conservation, and at the NGOs level with the studies of wilderness conservation and biodiversity conducted by Conservation International and other major environmental organizations. Finally, the research tackles the issue of World Heritage wilderness also from the perspective of socio-economic development. It analyzes the impact of wilderness conservation within a World Heritage framework in terms of development opportunities and the sustainable tourism industry. This level of analysis relies on the literature on tourism and protected areas and on the World Heritage value for tourism promotion. The concept of “gateway” is adopted as the focus of the economic development of local communities through tourism in World Heritage wilderness areas, with Tasmania’s West Coast and its role as gateway to the TWWHA providing the main case study.

Structure

This research consists of six chapters and the conclusions. The first chapter is the introduction. It outlines the scope and rationale of the thesis, its background concepts and literature, its methodology. It contains a general overview of the core assumptions and ideas, and of the concepts and theories that underpin it. The second chapter outlines the history and meaning of the wilderness idea, which is the core conceptual background of the thesis. It follows the development of the wilderness notions from the ancient world to present, with a focus on the cradle of the contemporary wilderness idea: the United States. A particular attention is devoted to the intellectual legacy of the heralds of the wilderness idea in North America, and to the wilderness movement that shaped the transformation of wilderness from a philosophical notion and a Romantic ideal to a political issue and a tool of conservation policy. This transformation culminated in the adoption of the US Wilderness Act in 1964, which created the world’s most sophisticated and vast Wilderness Preservation System. The analysis of the evolution of the wilderness idea is not a mere historical recollection. It is a critical review of the issues and paradoxes intrinsic in a highly cultural notion applied to the natural environment. It highlights the relative, subjective nature of wilderness, and it introduces a crucial aspect of the wilderness theory, the discourse over the values of wilderness. This section presents the different perspective on the question of the attributes and values of the wilderness resource. The resulting picture is that of a cultural notion of nature conservation, which is characterized by an outstanding combination of anthropocentric and bio- centric values. It clarifies how according to the various historical periods, the former or the latter have been emphasized by wilderness supporters and scholars; but in the end it is in the complexity of the wilderness idea that its true meaning is to be found. Because the wilderness idea has not been a mere philosophic reflection, but it has been transformed on North American soil into a reservation category and into a legislative principle, the third chapter is devoted to the understanding of this aspect of wilderness: its use as a conservation paradigm worldwide. The American example has been followed in several countries which shared with the United States a similar colonial history and a similar cultural context. The evolution of the wilderness idea in those countries, the similarities with the

American experience and the translation of wilderness into a legislative principle for conservation purposes are all highlighted in this chapter. Wilderness is also a conservation category at the international level. The history of the reception of the notion at the level of global conservation – namely through the IUCN and the World Commission on Protected Areas – is briefly recalled here, and the place and role of wilderness as a conservation category are spelled out through the review of the categories of protected areas drafted by the IUCN itself. This review on one hand clarifies the use of wilderness as a conservation paradigm; on the other hand though, it also reflects on the confusion still surrounding this aspect of the wilderness idea, given the lack of a shared view on what the wilderness resource is about and on what place it should have among conservation theories. The fourth chapter builds on the literature review on the wilderness idea, to examine a core issue: its relation with the World Heritage Convention. It does so by reviewing the background of the Convention and its history, in order to grasp the main elements of the philosophical and cultural legacy that has determined what the World Heritage idea is, and how it works. It retraces the roots of the Convention in the Western history of conservation, underpinned by a view of nature that has a lot in common with the wilderness tradition. It highlights the principles and criteria set out by the Convention to identify the notion of Outstanding Universal Value as the defining principle of World Heritage properties, and highlights how these clearly reflect some of the typical attributes and values of wilderness. It also points out to the fact that the cultural connection between the Convention’s view of nature and the wilderness idea has not been translated into an operational use of wilderness as a reservation criterion. This has led to a progressive replacement of the philosophical legacy of wilderness with a more scientific and objective approach to nature conservation, aimed at acquiring a more universal and less contested approach to what nature is and how it is defined. The chapter introduces the question of the effectiveness of the Convention, and defines the Convention as a cultural system, in which the iconic character of the properties defined by the “outstanding universal value” represents its most powerful asset. It sheds light on an apparent paradox: that of a Convention which is weak given the predominant role of State parties within it, and yet has become one of the worlds most recognizable and respected conservation systems. The key to the apparent paradox is found in the iconic value of the World Heritage brand, which is in the end what distinguishes the World

Heritage idea from any other conservation paradigm. And again, is a sign of its affinity with the wilderness idea, which also has in the cultural dimension its crucial asset. Chapter five brings the analysis to the Tasmanian context, to then indicate the potential application of the Tasmanian case study both nationally and internationally. It is organized on two levels of analysis. The first one is historical, while the second is contemporary. The historical section tackles the political dimension of the question of the effectiveness of the wilderness criterion for the World Heritage reservation. Tasmania’s environmental history, and the sage of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, demonstrates the potential of wilderness as a reservation criterion for World Heritage. From Lake Pedder to the Franklin Dam dispute, the chapter reconstructs the milestones through which the reservation of Tasmania’s wilderness regions progressed and culminated with the World Heritage nomination. It highlights the uniqueness of this process: the effective synergy between wilderness and World Heritage. This chapter then indicates potential directions in which the model can be used to promote and ensure wilderness preservation nationally and internationally, within the World Heritage framework. It presents the case of the Tarkine region in North West Tasmania and the importance of the association between wilderness and World Heritage in its conservation campaign. It also mentions the influence the Tasmanian case has already had in major wilderness disputes in Australia. Finally, it identifies potential international contexts in which the Tasmanian model of World Heritage wilderness preservation could be applied successfully in the future – from traditional wilderness countries to Russia to the different corners of the globe where the World heritage is successfully implemented. Another crucial political question that receives a detailed attention in Chapter Five tackles the weakness undermining the potential role of the Convention as a global framework of wilderness preservation. Such major obstacle is again studied through the lenses of a Tasmanian case study. It refers to the lack of acknowledgement of wilderness as a reservation criterion within the Convention, and demonstrates how this flaw lowers the World Heritage effectiveness in addressing environmental conflicts in which the disputed resource is namely wilderness. The case study in this respect is the ongoing fight for the old-growth forests that stretch along the border of the World Heritage region, and which have been left outside of the nomination and available to forestry. This political conflict is interesting because it shows the enduring value of

the wilderness argument in the environmental conflict in Tasmania, and the failure of the Convention to act effectively to protect this natural heritage. The fight for the forests rests on the assumption of the environmentalist camp that those forests are an integral part of the surrounding World Heritage wilderness. Wilderness is still the defining element of the natural resource that is at stake. The Convention, though, does not recognize wilderness per se as a conservation principle. The consequence in this case is a failure in addressing the issue. The treatment of the forest conflict as a marginal issue of border amendment, and the focus on the concept of “representation” of protected ecosystems within the World Heritage region, missed the point of the entire conflict in the Tasmanian society. The consequence is that the conflict has not been resolved, and continues to be the most divisive issue of the environmental policy of the State. Chapter Six contains the economic aspects of the World Heritage wilderness analysis. Its focus is the other major dimension of the question of effectiveness of the Convention: the economic contribution of the World Heritage region to the Tasmanian community. The focus here is on the West Coast of Tasmania, which has developed into a major tourism destination thanks to the idea of “gateway” to the surrounding World Heritage wilderness. It stresses the transformation of Strahan into a sophisticated international tourism hub and the proof of the potential of wilderness values, associated with World Heritage brand, to provide also an economic argument in favor of the conservation of disputed wilderness areas. The case of Strahan is a striking reminder of the tourism potential of the wilderness experience coupled with the World Heritage brand. The influence of such model is evident in the nearby region of the Tarkine, located to the North-West of the World Heritage Area, where a new, ambitious economic development plan based on tourism has become the most important element to decide the fate of this wilderness region. The conclusions summarize the key findings of the research, and suggest future themes, applications and issues related to the model of wilderness preservation within the World Heritage framework, embodied by the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area’s history, accomplishments and shortcomings.

CHAPTER II

The Wilderness idea

Early conceptions

There are two major problems with the concept of wilderness. One is its history. It is, eminently, a Western history, and in particular an American one. It is a history of idealism and spirituality, of cultural myths and symbolism. This makes the wilderness idea an inconvenient paradigm, because it is sometimes perceived as culturally biased and outdated. The second problem derives from the first. The fact that wilderness bears the mark of culture, and that it was born out of religious, psychological and historical circumstances, makes it extremely difficult to grasp and define. In brief, wilderness is the most undefined, culturally constructed and controversial of all contemporary conservation paradigms (Mosley 1977; Nash 1982; Marshall 1930; Stankey 1989; Guha 1989; Oelschlaeger 1991; Noss 1991; Mackay et al. 1998; McCloskey 1998; Shultis 1999; Cole et al 2000; Foreman 2000; Callicott 2000; Vale 2005). As Nash famously puts it “Wilderness has a deceptive concreteness at first glance. The difficulty is that while the word is a noun it acts like an adjective. There is no specific material object that is wilderness. The term designates a quality (as the –ness suggests) that produces a certain mood or feeling in a given individual and, as a consequence, may be assigned by that person to a specific place. Because of this subjectivity a universally acceptable definition of wilderness is elusive. One man’s wilderness may be another’s roadside picnic ground” (Nash 1982: 1). On the other hand, though, wilderness is also the most enduring conservation concept. It is the founding principle of conservationism and it is still today in use not only as a cultural and literary notion, but as a working, functional and in many places, legislative reservation category. It is currently a legislative principle in the United Stats, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, South Africa and it is recognized formally by IUCN as a conservation category. Wilderness is the oldest concept to have shaped the history of conservation and more in general, the reflection of men upon the natural environment. It also presents linguistic, cultural, philosophical and legislative difficulties. The term only exists, in its powerful and descriptive simplicity, in the

Teutonic languages. No equivalent of wilderness is found in Latin languages such as French, Spanish or Italian, where the closest translation would be “wild nature” or “savage nature”. It also doesn’t exist in languages such as Japanese or Chinese (Callicot 2000). As a consequence, it is not surprising that wilderness as a conservation category was born in the English colonies of the New World, and that the wilderness idea is first and foremost – particularly in its application as a conservation paradigm – an American notion (Nash 1982; Hall 1991; Vale 2005; Oelschlaeger 1991; Stankey 1989; Callicot 2000). The etymology of the term is commonly derived from the Nordic languages. As Nash (1982) reports: “In the early Teutonic and Norse languages, from which the English word in large part developed, the root seems to have been “will” with a descriptive meaning of self-willed, willful, or uncontrollable. From “willed” came the adjective “wild”, used to convey the idea of being lost, unruly, disordered or confused…Applied initially to human conduct, the term was extended to other life forms. Thus the old English “dēor” (animal) was prefixed with wild to denote creatures not under the control of man. One of the earliest uses was in the eighth-century epic Beowulf where wildēor appeared in reference to savage and fantastic beasts inhabiting a dismal region of forests, crags, and cliffs. From this point, the derivation of wilderness is clear. Wildēor, contracted to “wilder”, gave rise to “wilder” and finally “wilderness”. Etymologically, the terms means “wild-dēor- ness”, the place of wild beasts” (Nash 1982: 1). Another option, as Nash explains, is that “wild” might be connected with “woeld”, the wood in Teutonic languages. This is explained by the fact that the term is restricted to the Nordic languages, belonging to regions which were thickly forested. Foreman (2000) insists on the meaning of the term wilderness as “self-willed land”. He quotes the etymological reconstruction of the term made by Vest in 1983, which goes back to Old English and Old Gothonic languages. According to this interpretation, “wil-der-ness” means “will of the land”, while “wildeor” means “will of the animal”. “A wild animal is a ‘self-willed animal’ – an undomesticated animal; similarly, wildland is ‘self-willed land” (Foreman 2000: 33). This implies that the wilderness is beyond the control of men. It is untamed, and free. The history of conservation is rooted in the peculiar perception of nature indicated with the term wilderness. It was produced by the progressive alienation from it that the Western industrial and urban society brought about. Nash (1982) points out to the “irony inherent in the fact that the civilizing process which imperils wild nature is precisely that which creates the need for it. As a

rule the nations that have wilderness do not want it, and those who want it do not have it” (Nash 1982: 343). The notion of wilderness lies at the core of the process by which a civilized society of European origin reinterpreted centuries of human relation with the environment. The British settlers that colonized the New World brought with them all the stereotypes and the emotional, cultural and spiritual archetypes that for most of the history of Western civilization defined the coexistence between humans and the natural environment. Their initial hostility towards nature, nurtured by religious and social factors, slowly gave way to a completely different attitude vis-à- vis the environment. This slow shift in the perception of nature and in the relation with it coincides with the modern history of the wilderness idea. According to Oelschlaeger (1991), though, the modern stage of the changing wilderness idea is but one limited section of the development of a notion which stretches the centuries and accompanied humanity in its evolution. He identifies four periods in the history of humankind which correspond to the major stages of evolution of the idea of wilderness: Paleolithic, ancient, modern and postmodern. This timeframe embraces the whole human experience, and it attaches to the idea of wilderness a defining role in the question of the coexistence between humans and nature. As he puts it, “a study of the idea of wilderness accordingly assumes the natural history of humankind…the history of the idea of wilderness is intimately related to the evolving character of culture as human nature has articulated itself in particular places and times” (Oelschlaeger 1991: 4-5). The fact that wilderness is indeed a human, culturally constructed idea has always been a focal point of the debates about the validity of the concept. Stankley (1989) emphasizes this connection between wilderness and human perception: “At one time, all the earth was wild…the very absence of human presence meant there was no cultural system within which the values of naturalness or the distinctiveness of the environment as a contrast to civilization could be appreciated” (Stankley 1989: 9). Namely in ancient times, the contemporary notion of wilderness would have had no meaning at all. Primitive men were part of nature and the cultural separation between man and nature didn’t exist. “Untrammeled nature was of no special significance to the world’s first human settlers. At the dawn of human society, the world was simply a miscellaneous assemblage of biological conditions” (Stankey 1989:9).

The split between men and nature, according to W.C.White (in Stankey, 1989), occurred as a consequence of the intrinsically anthropocentric message of the Bible. This thesis, which has been commonly accepted, postulates that the Judeo-Christian civilization laid the foundations for a dramatic shift in the perception of the land, from a pantheistic cult of nature typical of ancient cultures to the Genesis of the Hebrew Torah, in which man is given dominance over creation. The story of the Garden of Eden, according to Stankey (1989), is emblematic in this respect: “In the Garden of Eden, water and food were bountiful and work was unnecessary. Nor was there any fear, because all of the creatures of the Garden were peaceable and helpful, save one – the serpent. When Adam and Eve broke faith with God and ate the forbidden fruit, they were driven from the Garden to “cursed ground”, overgrown with thorns and thistles.”(Stankey 1989: 10). In addition to the clear contraposition between Heaven and wilderness, another element in the Bible that opened the door to the new attitude towards nature was the fact that every living thing, in the Genesis, is subordinate to the use and enjoyment of man. Wilderness is mentioned frequently in the Old Testament, 245 times according to Nash (1982). The connotation of wilderness there is normally negative. It is a place from which God is absent. Stankey (199) identifies three characteristics of the Biblical wilderness: the fact that it was uninhabited, its desolation and aridity, and its vastness (Stankey 1989: 10). This characterization of the wilderness already contains some of the attributes that have always been considered as crucial in its identification, including in the most advanced, contemporary legislative definitions of it: the absence of permanent human presence, and the large size. Despite the evident bias against wilderness in the Old Testament, many authors highlight that a different perception of “wilderness” was already contained there (Nash 1982; Stankey 1989; Oelschlaeger 1991). The Israelites wandered in the desert (which was one of the most common settings for the wilderness idea of the Bible,) for forty years. Moses received the Torah on Mount Sinai. In the New Testament, Jesus purified himself and escaped temptations in the desert. These facts point to a perception of wilderness as a place where man can purge himself, purify his soul, escape temptations, and find sanctity. A spiritual domain of solitude and regeneration. This dimension of the wilderness idea will be central in the rediscovery of nature as a source of inspiration, spiritual growth and healing, typical of the Romantic and transcendentalist redefinition of wilderness.

The evolution of human relationship to nature, which parted with the Paleolithic fusion between men and Mother Nature, according to Oelschlaeger resulted from the encounter between the Judeo-Christian anthropocentric message and the rational humanistic legacy of Greek and Roman civilizations. The Aristotelian investigation of nature reduced it to an object, a thing to explore and understand. The anthropocentric vision of nature triumphed in this cultural context, and when it met with the revolutionary message of the Bible, it produced a change of historic proportions. “Elements of Greek rationalism were fused with Hebrew and Early Christian thought. In that combination lays the genesis of the idea of wilderness that has ruled Western civilization for these past two millennia” (Oelschlaeger 1991: 61). Medieval approaches to wilderness can be characterized as reflecting the predominantly Judeo- Christian perception of wilderness as an alien territory to conquer and tame, according to the interpretation of the Biblical message. Medieval Europe was profoundly and predominantly shaped by the church and Christianity. The religious concept of the Earth being subjected to human control was thus paramount. It was God’s will that men work the land and tame it. “While ensconced in this valley of tears, the human lot was to toil in order to bring forth the fruits of the earth” (Oelschlaeger 1991: 70). It was in the Middle Ages that vast tracts of pristine forests in Europe were cleared, and in The British Isles this phenomenon was particularly accentuated. The dawn of the Renaissance brought about crucial socio-economic and cultural transformation, which impacted upon the meaning of wilderness in the European context. The technological and scientific revolution completed the despoliation of nature from any mystical and religious value. On the other hand, as Stankey (1989) highlights, the discovery of the universe and of the mechanisms of its harmony, brought about by science, led to an appreciation of wilderness as a reflection of God’s divinity. This proposed once again the dichotomy found in the Judeo- Christian tradition, of a wilderness as a wasteland to conquer on one hand, and as creation as a “majestic and marvelous creation…of divine source” (Nash 1982: 45). Through modernism and its complete de-sacralisation of nature (Oelschlaeger 1991), through the industrial revolution and the subjugation and despoliation of nature with means always more powerful and effective, the relation of man and nature entered its decisive stage. With the British settlers establishing a new society in America, contemporary wilderness found its incubation realm. At the beginning, the images of the wild that the new Americans held derived entirely

from the European context, from its religious and cultural inheritance. The Puritans of America regarded wilderness as an archenemy to fight and defeat. The expansion of the American frontier struggled against two “wilds”: nature, and the Indians. Both were linked, in the settlers’ perceptions, as an evil to extirpate in order for civilization to advance and settle the land. It is generally accepted in literature that the original attitude of the settlers towards wild lands was negative, exploitative and inclined to religious condemnation and hostility. Nonetheless, some critics of the wilderness idea such as Callicott (2000) reverse this interpretation. The understanding of the Western, American origin of the wilderness idea is undisputable for him as well. But unlike traditional reconstructions of the roots of the idea, such as in Nash (1982), Callicott sees namely in the Puritan theology one of the crucial seeds of the American wilderness idea. According to him, there is a fundamental distinction between early Puritans, and later ones. For the first settlers, the advancement of civilization and the taming of wilderness were paramount. But after the expansion of the frontier and the elimination of wilderness, Puritans realized that cities and civilization were tainted by sin and evil; while nature, which had been created in the image of God, was pure and immaculate. Thus, “the received wilderness idea is ultimately a legacy of Puritan theology. At the heart of that theology is a dualism of man and nature” (Callicott 2000: 29). This interpretation sees signs of Puritan religious contamination in some of the intellectual giants of the wilderness idea, such as Muir, Thoreau, Marshall, Roston and even a contemporary like Foreman. In any case, the truth that both supporters of the wilderness and critics of its “artificial” nature share is that the wilderness idea as we know it today was born in the United States, and out of two parallel circumstances. One was the same process which was destroying the wilderness: civilization and economic development. The American frontier, which had appeared endless to the first settlers, in fact was not (Nash 1982). With the progressive closing of this frontier, a resource that had been believed to be inexhaustible became scarce. This increased its marginal value. At the same time, the alienation from nature of urbanized Americans produced the dramatic shift in the perception of wilderness. Once severed from the contact with the natural environment, elites from the cities rediscovered the healing and spiritual power of nature. The intellectual revolution that had prepared the ground for such dramatic shift had already occurred in Europe, and it was Romanticism. Artists, poets, philosophers depicted nature as a newfound

heaven. Primitivism, which postulated that “man’s happiness and well-being decreased in proportion to his degree of civilization” (Nash 1982: 49) was a pillar of Romantic sensitivity. Jean Jacques-Rousseau, for example, was a champion of primitivism. Basically, Romanticism substituted the pioneers’ point of view on nature with an artistic and religious one, which found in wilderness the highest expression of the sublime. Beauty was inherent in nature, and its contemplation was a source of pure pleasure and enchantment. Obviously, Europe in the period of Romantic fervor was already devoid of true wilderness. But the new continent of America still abounded in it, and so the Romantic drive to rediscover wild nature, coupled with the abundance and uniqueness of American wilderness, became fertile ground for a new philosophy, embodied by the wilderness idea (Nash 1982; Stankey 1989; Oeschleager 1991).

American Wilderness: a world model

Romantic wilderness was the first, entirely positive representation of wild nature. Romanticism wasn’t the only philosophy that boosted the wilderness idea. Transcendentalism influenced one of the founding fathers of the wilderness: Henry David Thoreau, whose famous phrase “in wilderness is the preservation of the world” (in Nash 1982: 84) echoes in all subsequent studies and reflections on the wilderness idea. Transcendentalism was, as the name suggest, a deeply spiritual mindset. Its quest for spirituality highlights one of the typical attributes of the original American wilderness notion: its symbolic, psychological, anthropologic essence. Ecology was not around yet. The dimension in which the reflection on wilderness was placed was entirely spiritual and human. For Thoreau, wilderness was a source of spiritual life, it possessed a healing power that soothed the evils of civilization and promised hope and regeneration. The other drive of the wilderness appreciation in America was to be found in the feeling of inferiority of the new country vis-à-vis its former colonial power and in general, Old Europe (Stankey 1989; Nash 1982). America could not compete with the cultural richness of European countries. But if the inferiority in the field of culture was striking, a new America ethos identified in nature the chance for revenge. Europe didn’t possess anything like the wonders of American wilderness. Its grandeur and inspirational symbolism could give confidence to the young nation and boost its

nationalistic pride (Nash 1982). Wilderness became America’s equivalent to the treasures of European culture. In the wilderness pantheon of America, painters, writes and philosophers stand side by side. In the 19th century, painters like Thomas Cole and George Catlin, writers like John James Audubon, Charles Lanman and William Cullen Bryant, scholars like historian Francis Parkman. Jr. resounded as the champions of the spreading wilderness mantra. But above all, three philosophers are considered as the fathers of American wilderness: Henry David Thoreau, John Muir and Aldo Leopold. Their writings and activity characterize three different stages of the formation of the contemporary wilderness idea. With Thoreau, Romantic wilderness exudes and becomes mainstreamed into the American élite circles. Thoreau’s wilderness is still very much a philosophy, a literary and contemplative religion of the wild. It contains also, though, the first explicit demand for wilderness preservation. The idea of setting aside portions of territory to be kept in their wild state was part of the revolutionary message of Thoreau’s philosophy (Nash 1982; Oelschlaeger 1991). Muir added a crucial dimension to this legacy: wilderness as a political passion and cause. As Nash puts it: “As a publicizer of the American wilderness Muir had no equal” (Nash 1982: 122). With John Muir, the American wilderness climbed over the literary barriers and became a conservation program (Nash 1982). Muir’s advocacy of wilderness is inseparable from an iconic American place: Yosemite. The region that many claim to be the real first national park in the world, set aside in 1864 – 8 years before the proclamation of Yellowstone as national park – for recreational and scenic reason, Yosemite became also the prototype of the contemporary environmental battles. America’s first mass confrontation over an environmental preservation occurred over the plan to dam Hetch Hetchy Valley in the heart of Yosemite to build a reservoir that would provide San Francisco with abundant water. The struggle saw Muir and the Sierra Club – the most influential and historic wilderness conservation group in the United States – in the front line. As in the case of many “first” environmental battles, the fight to save the valley was lost to the preservationists. Many decades later, in Australia, a similar conflict – over the fate of Lake Pedder in the South-West of Tasmania - would become the cornerstone of wilderness protection in the country and mark the birth of the environmental movement down under.

Aldo Leopold completed this transformation of the wilderness idea from an inspired, religious, spiritual and aesthetic movement into a social and political agenda (Nash 1982; Oelschlaeger 1991). Leopold added a crucial dimension to the idea of wilderness: the dimension of ecology. With him, the first mention of the ecological values of wilderness and the first sign of a different understanding of its importance – from an entirely human perspective to an ecological one - emerged. Leopold also provided us with one of the earliest definitions of what wilderness is about. The cultural, spiritual, religious and subjective nature of wilderness had kept the notion undefined and vague. Recognizing wilderness was a matter of senses, inspiration, and instinct – not of science or of objective criteria. Wilderness was the place of beauty and scenic features, of recreation and regeneration, of solitude and vastness. But all the qualities of wilderness remained abstract. In Leopold’s definition, wilderness is “a continuous stretch of country preserved in its natural state, open to lawful hunting and fishing, big enough to absorb a two weeks’ pack trip, and kept devoid of roads, artificial trails, cottages, or other work of man” (Leopold 1921). Despite the apparent subjectivity of this depiction of wilderness, Leopold manages here to capture some of the key elements that have since been used to characterize wilderness regions. It is an archetypical definition of what wilderness is all about when it comes to identifying it concretely and objectively. The land must be continuous, unbroken. The idea of intactness is crucial for the wilderness value. It must be natural, and kept that way. Again naturalness is another key trait of wilderness. It is devoid of roads and means of mechanized access – this characteristic, the remoteness of wilderness, is still one of the most important criteria for its delineation. The quantification of the number of days a man should need to traverse a wilderness region is the parameter of another tenet of the wilderness concept: size. Not any protected area can be a wilderness because this needs to be big enough to preserve the attributes of naturalness and primitiveness, and its remoteness from access. What is also present in the definition of Leopold is the relation between wilderness and man. Recreation, in the early days, was the single major drive for wilderness advocacy and preservation. For early wilderness supporters, the main reason to protect wilderness was to be seen in the recreational value it possessed for the people. The original wilderness idea is entirely anthropocentric, based on the evaluation of what pleasure and advantage men can obtain from keeping land in a primitive state. Such benefit mainly coincided with recreational values. Thus, Leopold mentions activities such as hunting and

fishing, which were seen as compatible with wilderness reservation. After all, much of the history of conservation in the 19th and early 20th centuries was made by passionate hunters like Roosevelt, who was a champion of conservation not only in the United States but also in Africa, which after the exhaustion of the wilderness resource in America became the new frontier for pristine nature lovers (Adams 2004). With Leopold’s embrace of ecology, together with the anthropocentric view of wilderness a different perspective started to open up: the eco-centric notion of wilderness, which sees its value not only in what recreational benefits it can bring to men, but in itself, in its intrinsic balance and unmodified ecological mechanism. The idea of wilderness areas as places where natural processes occur undisturbed started to emerge. With the first outspoken demands for wilderness preservation, conservation the Western way was finally born. With it came the biggest conquest of nature preservation: the national park idea. The birth of the national park movement and the creation of a system of protected areas are inextricably linked to the history and influence of the wilderness idea. The first National Park, Yellowstone (1872) embodied the boldest and most typical representation of American wilderness. Its creation marked a milestone for nature conservation. Nonetheless, the first reservation of wild lands was only “incidentally” a milestone for wilderness preservation. That is, nature was preserved there for reasons other than wilderness and its perceived values. In fact, the preservation of Yellowstone at the time wasn’t explicitly linked to a clear policy of wilderness reserves. As Nash (1982) argues, two of the milestones of wilderness reservation in the United States – the declaration of the first National Park in Yellowstone in 1872 and the protection of the Adirondacks, in the State of New York, in 1885 as a Forest Preserve – had little to do with wilderness. “In both places, wilderness was preserved unintentionally” (Nash 1982: 108). In the case of Yellowstone, the concern of the supporters of conservation was to avoid the private exploitation of its extraordinary features such as geysers and hot springs. As for the Adirondack forest, the major goal was to ensure adequate water supplies from its catchment. Wilderness preservation was only a by-product; and yet, the arguments for wilderness had paved the way for this achievement, and much better results were to come. The national park has become since then the tenet of conservation worldwide. Its principles and applications have lost the direct contact with wilderness, and national parks today embrace a vast range of different conservation categories and paradigms; but its history proves

that it owed the wilderness idea and the activism and passion of the great American wilderness philosophers its existence and early success. And after Yosemite, Yellowstone and the first wilderness disputes in the United States, the path to a wilderness reservation system was open wide. In 1891 another key event was the passing of the Forest reserve Act by the US Congress. It established a new category of protected lands: the national forests. The importance of this step lies in the fact that it marks the beginning of a coherent, explicit policy of protected areas, in which wilderness would be one of the leading arguments and criteria. In fact, the Forest Service became the most active proponent of wilderness reservation, and it was the agency responsible for the declaration of the first official wilderness preserve in 1924: the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico. With the Gila, wilderness became embedded in the administrative language of nature resource management in America. It was the consecration of a concept which had gone a long way from its philosophical beginnings to a leading criterion of conservation policy. The administrative nature of the Forest Service prompted conservationists and wilderness supporters to demand that wilderness preservation be shifted from the mere administrative to the legislative realms. It is no wonder that the man who contributed most to the cause of wilderness was a forester himself. Robert Marshall was the heir to the great history of wilderness thought, from Emerson and Thoreau to Muir and Leopold. He was, though, a man of action, directly engaged in natural resource policy and management, and he translated the philosophical speculation about wilderness into a plan of action to achieve legislative measures. Marshall himself was aware of the undefined nature of the wilderness idea. Mentioning an earlier definition of the concept as “a tract of solitude and savageness” (Marshall 1930: 141), he pointed to the fact that it was “a definition more poetic than explicit” (Marshall 1930:141). The definition found in the Webster’s New International Dictionary didn’t satisfy him either, although it marked a clear progress towards a clarification of what wilderness is about. According to the dictionary, wilderness was “a tract of land, whether a forest or a wide barren plain, uncultivated and uninhabited by human beings” (in Marshall 1930: 141). In other words, land which was in a natural state and where no trace of human habitation was present. Marshall’s own definition of what a wilderness is about lays the foundations for the future understanding of wilderness as a reservation criterion, as a policy oriented concept rather than a philosophical or poetic expression. In his words, wilderness is “a region which contains no permanent

inhabitants, possesses no possibility of conveyance by any mechanical means and is sufficiently spacious that a person in crossing it must have the experience of sleeping out. The dominant attributes of such an area are: first, that it requires anyone who exists in it to depend exclusively on his own efforts for survival; and second, that it preserves as nearly as possible the primitive environment. This means that all roads, power transportation and settlements are barred. But trails and temporary shelters, which were common long before the advent of the white race, are entirely permissible” (Marshall 1930: 141). Marshall’s definition marks a watershed in the history of the wilderness idea. Here we have an intellectual effort to define a wilderness which is no longer just an idea, but a place. Such a place can be identified on the basis of certain criteria. The most important ones are the absence of people as permanent inhabitants, and the fact that man would only be a temporary guest, depending on his survival skills only; the lack of access through technology; and a sufficient size for the naturalness of the area to be preserved, what the author expresses with the term “primitive environment”. It is a definition well ahead of its time, and most contemporary criteria for wilderness identification contain more or less the same tenets, such as the absence of permanent habitation, the size which is a guarantee of the preservation of natural processes, and the lack of mechanized access. The fact that a distinction is made between the impact of “white man”, i.e. of the modern technological society introduced by European colonization, and the influence of pre-European indigenous cultures, is also crucial. It demonstrates that the wilderness concept does not have to be incompatible with the existence of indigenous people on the land. This is a key argument that underpins all critiques of what has been termed the “received wilderness idea” (Callicot 2000; Foreman 2000) – that wilderness is an ethnocentric, European concept which is incompatible with indigenous cultures. In fact, already at the time of Marshall in the early 20th century, the concern of preservationists was to keep out of wild places the modern technological society, the true threat to the primitiveness of nature. Despite his action-oriented inclination, though, Marshall was very much also a wilderness philosopher along the lines of his predecessors. This is another crucial point. As much as the wilderness idea acquires concreteness and a scientific dimension, it remains fundamentally a cultural idea. This emerges clearly from an analysis of the attributes of wilderness, according to Marshall. One thing is looking at the criteria he lays out to identify wilderness. Another is to

understand his motives for wilderness preservation. If wilderness is a primitive area with no human habitation, no access and of a sufficient size for naturalness to be reserved, why should Americans choose to preserve it? Here one can unmistakably find yet again the tenets of the wilderness philosophy as a cultural fascination of urban Americans with the big outside. Marshall recognizes three major characteristics, or better said, “values” to wilderness. The first one is physical. Wilderness is equal to health. It is a challenge for survival: “In a true wilderness, if a person is not qualified to satisfy all the requirements of existence, then he is bound to perish” (Marshall 1930: 143). It is also a realm in which those people who prefer the physical dimension to the intellectual one can find their fulfillment: “Adventure, whether physical or mental, implies breaking into unpenetrated ground, venturing beyond the boundary of normal aptitude, extending oneself to the limit of capacity, courageously facing peril. Life without the chance for such exertions would be for many persons a dreary game, scarcely bearable in its horrible banality” (Marshall 1930: 143). Thus the challenge of wilderness is not only beneficial for the health of people; to some people, it s a necessary ingredient of a fulfilling life. This leads to another intrinsic value of wilderness, the psychological relief it give to those who need adventure, to express their desire and energy in a way other than war and violence. This “psychological” benefit of wilderness also refer to two more mental advantages it provides One is intellectual strength and clarity: “One of the greatest advantages of wilderness is its incentive to independent cogitation” (Marshall 1930: 143). According to Marshall, wilderness was the source from which some of America’s “most virile minds” drew their clarity of vision and intellect. Another is the possibility to reinvigorate the mind away from the stress and the tensions of society. Wilderness is therapeutic, and represents a natural means to recover and convalesce. The last value of wilderness in the thought of Robert Marshall is its beauty. The esthetic quality of wilderness is perennial: “Of the myriad of manifestations of beauty, only natural phenomena like the wilderness are detached from all temporal relations” (Marshall 1930: 144); the size of wilderness areas gives them a type of beauty that one cannot find in any other artistic or cultural masterpiece, and furthermore the beauty of wilderness encompasses all human senses; the esthetic pleasure of wilderness is absolute and it embodies the ultimate characteristic of perfect beauty, its objectivity: “In the wilderness, with its entire freedom from the manifestations of

human will, that perfect objectivity which is essential for pure esthetic rapture can probably be achieved more readily than among any other forms of beauty” (Marshall 1930: 144). The advocacy for wilderness preservation in Marshall doesn’t ignore its cost to society at large. He acknowledges that setting aside areas of public land purely for their wilderness qualities has some disadvantages. The clearest of all is the economic loss from the lack of development and natural resource exploitation. The solution to this issue is simply reason and compromise. Marshall advances the theory that will later be known as the “worthless lands” (Runte 1973) hypothesis, by proposing that wilderness preserves be declared in those natural areas that do not possess clear economic values, being unproductive or inaccessible. Ultimately, though, it will be impossible to avoid any economic losses from wilderness reservation; society must simply recognize that the intrinsic worth of wilderness justifies the bearing of such small costs. It is also a question of fairness, according to Marshall. Despite the fact that for its very inaccessible and challenging nature, the wilderness experience is precluded to the majority of society, it should nonetheless be provided to those few who are equipped to enjoy it. Wilderness becomes, in this argument, a “natural” right of a minority of enthusiasts and nature lovers. He makes this point very clearly, with a touch of irony: “The automobilists argue that a wilderness domain precludes the huge majority of recreation-seekers from deriving any amusement whatever from it. This is almost as irrational as contending that because more people enjoy bathing than art exhibits therefore we should change our picture galleries into swimming pools” (Marshall 1930: 147). The conclusion to which Marshall arrives is that it is vital to preserve some samples of wilderness, for all its values and the benefits it can provide to modern society, which outnumber its disadvantages. He does so by highlighting another essential characteristic of wilderness: its irreplaceability. Once lost, wilderness cannot be brought back. Contemporary wilderness science contends this statement, and “reverting to wilderness” is among the most advanced trends. But not everyone is convinced of this theory. For most of its history the wilderness idea has rested upon the awareness that it is easy to ruin a wilderness, impossible to fix it. Marshall believed in “the organization of spirited people who will fight for the freedom of the wilderness” (Marshall 1930: 148). He was faithful to his wish. In 1935, he co-founded the Wilderness Society, which would play a pivotal role in fostering a public opinion movement inclined to wilderness

reservation and in forming the basis for the legislative promotion of wilderness as a conservation category. The history of wilderness preservation is paved with harsh environmental confrontations between natural resource industries and conservationists. Just as the Hetch Hetchy controversy marked a milestone in the development of an environmental awareness in the United States, another public dispute played a major role in the gathering of forces of modern conservation movements such as the one led by the Wilderness Society. The proposal to dam the Green River, in the Dinosaur National Monument on the Colorado-Utah border became the rally cry from conservationist around the country. “The controversy quickly assumed major proportions, dominating conservation politics in the 1950s. Not since Hetch Hetchy had so many Americans so thoroughly debated the wisdom of preserving wilderness” (Nash 1982: 21). Two leading conservation movements joined forces: the one represented by the already mentioned Wilderness Society, led by Howard C. Zahniser, and the Sierra Club, the other quintessentially American wilderness preservation organization which historically heralded the cause of wilderness in the country. The tactics used by these two organizations later became a well-known strategy, followed the world over, in environmental disputes. They codified the argument and strategies adopted in subsequent showdowns, many of which played a prominent role also in landmark disputes in Australia, such as in the case of the Franklin Dam in the Tasmanian wilderness. According to Nash, two sets of arguments were brought forward by conservationists. One was the cultural and philosophical underpinning of the wilderness idea: its esthetic value and the spiritual dimension people can find in wilderness areas alone. The second set of arguments was more concrete, and based on economic principles. Basically, conservationists started to defuse the opponents’ case by using their same language, that of numbers, statistics, economic data. This way, they could galvanize the supporters among public opinion, with images of beauty and holiness threatened by an ugly image of development. And at the same time, they would provide an economic rationale to oppose development, on the basis that the benefits promised by developers were in fact ill-conceived, and their economic arguments flawed. This time, conservationists prevailed. In 1956 a bill stopped the dam and the victory was hailed as America’s biggest environmental triumph. It wasn’t simply one local dispute over one particular site. The way the controversy unfolded gave it a much broader meaning: it was a choice between

two opposed visions of the future – one in which wilderness would be protected for future generations, and one in which development would have the upper hand and any reservation would always hang in the balance, with the possibility of revocation or damages inflicted on it because of economic imperatives. Wilderness was the winner. And soon after, this newly acquired status would be consecrated in the world’s first and strongest legislative protection afforded to it: the Wilderness Act. As the Echo Dam dispute highlighted, wilderness was still fragile. Lacking legislative protection and being confined to administrative policy, it faced the danger of being revoked just as easily as it was proclaimed. This concern animated the Wilderness Society and prompted them to seek statutory designation for wilderness. On the other hand, if wilderness preservation had seen some exciting victories and some milestones had been laid, in the first half of the 20th century more wilderness was consumed by development. If in 1926 the Forest Service had inventoried 79 roadless areas which totaled 55 million acres of wilderness, the same inventory in 1961 only reported only 19 such areas, with a drop in total area from 55 to 17 million acres. The average area considered for a wilderness was then lowered, from 230.000 acres to just 100.000, given the scarcity of bigger areas. The fact that wilderness areas were scattered across a number of administration – namely the US Forest Service, the National Park Service, the US Fish and Wildlife Service and the Bureau of Land Management – each with its own interpretation of the criteria to identify and protect it, was a concern for the future viability of the preservation effort. A national wilderness preservation system was formally proposed by Zahniser in 1951, at the Second Biennial Wilderness Conference of the Sierra Club (Nash 1982). The novelty of such approach, in the interpretation of Nash (1982), was striking. It signaled the fact that the American preservation movement had become proactive instead of merely defensive; it shifted the focus of conservation from single, local areas to the idea of preserving wilderness in general; and it provided wilderness with an unprecedented legal strength, given that so far it had only been an administrative reservation category, which meant a weak protection that could be revoked with a simple administrative act. In 1956 the first wilderness bill was introduced in Congress. It would take 8 long years of debates, amendments and compromises to reach a consensus that would become the Wilderness Act, promulgated in 1964. This legislative measure consecrates wilderness as a conservation category. It sets the benchmark for wilderness

definition and identification, and it is still an unsurpassed recognition of the wilderness idea not only as a philosophical concept but as a policy-oriented conservation criterion. The Act mandated the reunification of all wilderness areas administered by various bodies under the umbrella of the National Wilderness Preservation System. When it was created, the NWPS protected 9.1 million acres of wilderness. Today, this figure has grown to almost 108 million acres.

The Wilderness Act: from ideal to conservation paradigm

According to McCloskey (1966) – probably the most acknowledged interpreter and commentator of the Act – in 1964 two factors occurred together in American society, which made it possible for wilderness to become a mainstream legislative criterion of conservation. “Two conditions seem to be necessary for a consensus that wilderness is a public good that warrants preservation: 1) a society with highly educated leaders and economic surpluses; and 2) an increasing scarcity of wilderness areas. In 1964 these two conditions converged in American culture. The result was ‘The Wilderness Act’ – a landmark in the history of this ideal” (McCloskey 1966: 288). The interesting point, in the analysis McCloskey conducts of the Act, is the fact that he seems to retain the dual dimension of the concept: a cultural idea and a concrete conservation principle. He refers to wilderness as an “ideal” – that is, the product of an abstract, cultural process. But at the same time, he acknowledges that wilderness that is contained in the Act is a very concrete, real phenomenon. He does so by insisting on the fact that “the system was not set up only to provide protection to pristine areas. The entry criteria are heavily qualified” (McCloskey 1998-1999: 371). In other words, it is to the definition of wilderness that is codified in the Act that one must turn to, in order to find out what the notion of wilderness as a conservation category means. Nonetheless, even after the adoption of the world’s leading legislative recognition of wilderness as a valid guiding principle for nature conservation, the notion retains its double essence of a cultural idea and of a policy and management tool. This is why McCloskey refers to wilderness as an “ideal”, but at the same time states, with reference to the conservation regime put in place by the Act, that “the areas admitted to the system do not need to be pristine. The wilderness system is a practical, legal zoning tool to put a given area off

limits to development. It was not designed to shield areas from global influences, nor to provide a warranty of pristineness” (McCloskey 1998-1999: 371). Ultimately, this dualism remains an issue for the notion of wilderness. In fact, McCloskey’s critique of the definition contained in the Act reflects the ongoing problem with this dual nature. The confusion surrounding the concept of wilderness and the difficulty in identifying what constitutes a wilderness in reality haven’t been dispelled by the language used in the Act, as McCloskey points out. Foreman (2000) in his review of the meaning of wilderness and in response to the harsh critique that many contemporary commentators addressed to the concept and its validity as a conservation category (Callicot and Nelson 1998; Callicot 2000; Cronon 1998) identifies four different definitions of the concept, contained in the Wilderness Act. According to this subdivision, the first definition simply indicates the general object and the scope of the wilderness preservation system: “In order to assure that an increasing population, accompanied by expanding settlement and growing mechanization, does not occupy and modify all areas within the United States and its possessions, leaving no land designated for preservation and protection in their natural condition, it is hereby declared to be the policy of Congress to secure for the American people of present and future generations the benefits of an enduring resource of wilderness” (section 2(a), The Wilderness Act 1964 in Foreman 2000: 34). Here is the historical and sociological summary of the two conditions indicated by McCloskey: the scarcity of wilderness, shrinking due to the pressure of development; and the appreciation of it as a resource which provides benefits for the American people, which expresses the positive attitude towards wilderness that over the course of two centuries emerged in America. This definition of wilderness, furthermore, doesn’t refer to pristineness as a defining quality of wilderness; it simply states that wilderness areas are those that haven’ yet been reached by development, and are worthy of preservation as such. This is an important point. Detractors of wilderness often deny the validity of the notion on the basis that pristine nature is a mental construct and not a reality – but the Wilderness Act proposes a much more compromised version of the Romantic wilderness ideal, according to which the naturalness of wilderness areas is not an absolute term. The second definition contained in the Act, as Foreman highlights, actually reflects what is termed as the wilderness idea: “A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and it

community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain” (section 2(c), The Wilderness Act 1964, in Foreman 2000: 34). Three elements concur here to give meaning to the idea of wilderness. One echoes the concept of “self-willed land”, the literary meaning the word implies (Nash 1982); “wilderness means land beyond human control” (Foreman 2000: 33). The second element is enshrined in a term that has been the object of debates among scholars: “untrammeled”. Foreman interprets it in the most straightforward way, again recalling the idea of self-willed lands, because untrammeled means unhindered: without human control, “untrammeled land is the arena of evolution” (Foreman 2000: 34). McCloskey agrees with this interpretation of the term “untrammeled”: “Wilderness areas were designed to be areas removed from human dominion. They are areas where nature can work its will and surprise us. Ponds may become meadows, and meadows may become forests, and forests may burn and become meadows, and brush may invade. One kind of forest may replace another. What lives there can and will change. We should not try to stop the clock and guide nature one way or another” (McCloskey 19998-1999: 380). Aplet (1989-1999) also point out to the crucial role that freedom plays in the definition of the wilderness: “Freedom, an essential ingredient of wildness and an essential quality of wilderness, was beautifully captured by the drafter of the Wilderness Act in the word ‘untrammeled’. This obscure word, which has come to be almost synonymous with wilderness, does not mean ‘untrampled upon’, as is commonly misunderstood; instead, it means unshackled, allowed to run free” (Aplet 1998-1999: 351). The third element highlighted by this definition is the absence of permanent human settlement, which is a recurring quality of the wilderness in all its different codifications. The above-mentioned definitions, though, are still not enough to grasp the real identity of legislative wilderness and to guide its designation. Some concrete criteria are set out, for the concrete delimitation of wilderness areas. They are enumerated in what Foreman (2000) considers yet the third definition of the Act: “An area of wilderness is further defined to mean in this Act an area of undeveloped Federal Land retaining it primeval character and influence, without permanent improvements or human habitation, which is protected and managed so as to preserve its natural conditions and which 1) generally appears to have been affected primarily by the forces of nature, with the imprint of man’ work substantially unnoticeable; 2) has outstanding opportunities for solitude or a primitive and unconfined type of recreation; 3) has at

least five thousand acres of land or is of sufficient size as to make practicable its preservation and use in an unimpaired condition; and 4) may also contain ecological, geological, or other features of scientific, educational, scenic, or historical value” (section 2 (c ) The Wilderness Act 1964, in Foreman 2000: 34). The criteria for the identification of wilderness set out in this section of the Act refer to some key features of wilderness area - particularly its primeval character, the absence of human control and habitation, the recreational value of wilderness derived from solitude, and an indication of the minimum size, which guarantees the long-term preservation of the area’s naturalness. As Foreman (2000) notices, the term “pristine” does not appear at all in the Act. He argue that detractors of wilderness preservation and anti- conservationists raise the issue of “pristine” wilderness - wrongly the former, and on purpose the latter; critics of the concept accuse wilderness to be unrealistic and a creation of human mind, because there is no such thing as a pristine environment, while those who oppose conservation point out to the pristineness requirement in order to limit the potential areas that can be identified a wilderness, and thus protected. In Foreman’s words, the wilderness that come out of the Act is “the real wilderness idea”, which possesses concrete attributes and can be concretely delimited following those criteria, as opposed to the “received wilderness idea”, which is the purely cultural and imaginary vision of wilderness of philosophers and idealists, which is what critics accuse to be biased, anthropocentric, ethnocentric and a false notion (Foreman 2000; Callicot 2000; Callicot and Nelson 1998; Cronon 1998). The same consideration is made by McCloskey, who stresses the divergence between the ideal wilderness and the tool of conservation that is defined by the Wilderness Act: “It is particularly important to distinguish between the variation of the idea and its practical application in today’s National Wilderness Preservation System. What really wilderness looks like is often a far cry from what it seems in the debates” (McCloskey 1998-1999: 381). The above mentioned commentaries to the Wilderness Act highlight a few crucial points with regard to the wilderness idea and its use as a conservation criterion. The first is the fact that it is impossible to completely separate wilderness as a conservation tool form wilderness as a cultural category. Even the criteria for wilderness identification according to the Act of 1964 didn’t eliminate the uncertainty surrounding the concept, according to McCloskey (1966). Although wilderness is there transformed from a philosophical ideal to a policy tool, its undefined nature is

not clarified once and for all. This is due to the fact that the Act doesn’t further qualify the term it uses, such as “untrammeled”, “undeveloped”, “primeval”. It leaves the interpretation of such terms open to debate, and consequently, it reiterates the subjectivity of the idea. Analyzing the wording of the Act, McCloskey points out to its shortcomings: “1) the land apparently can have temporary improvements in it; 2) the land only has to appear generally to have been affected primarily by the forces of nature; and 3) the imprint of man’s work merely need appear substantially unnoticed. These qualifications would appear to vitiate the force of the preceding general characterization of wilderness”. This is confirmed by another fact: wilderness definitions abound not only in literature, but also in legislative measures around the world. The attempt to define wilderness and to set out specific rules to identify it has shown that different contexts require different criteria. One of the most common qualities which differ according to different legislation is the minimum size of an area to qualify as wilderness. The degree to which the criterion of naturalness is applied has also shifted with time and according to the context, and the National Wilderness Preservation system offers numerous proof of this variability. Basically, it is a matter of adapting a highly idealistic and philosophical concept to a reality which often doesn’t meet the strictest benchmarks for wilderness purity – and consequently, the benchmark is lowered. Another consideration arising from the definition of wilderness contained in the Act concern the values of wilderness. Foreman (2000) highlights the fact that this delineation of the idea contains the two sets of value that have been attributed to wilderness during the evolution of the notion: the anthropocentric values and the eco-centric values. The first set of values is encountered where the Act peak of “appears”, “unnoticeable”, “solitude”, “recreation”, “scenic”, “historical” - these terms refer to the human perception and link the values of wilderness to the human experience; while the eco-centric perspective is expressed in terms such as “undeveloped”, “primeval”, “forces of nature”, “ecological”, “scientific”. We have here two diverging perspective on what wilderness is about and why it is important: one takes into consideration it benefits for the human experience, such as recreation, solitude, beauty; the other considers wilderness as important per se, or its ecological value. The eco-centric value of wilderness, introduced by ecology and highlighted by the most advanced theories of conservation such as biodiversity, ecosystem theory and resilience, is a useful point of view when it comes to overcoming the objections to the wilderness idea and to support the use of

wilderness as a contemporary conservation paradigm. Overall, the question over what wilderness is about and what its values are is crucial in the conceptual development of the notion, and it is worth exploring in depth.

The values of wilderness

The debate about the values of wilderness embodies the very essence of the concept. It is an open-ended process, and it acknowledges the difficulty in grasping once and forever the true dimensions of a phenomenon that is eminently cultural, and consequently hard to clearly define. The key point in relation to the argument of this research is highlighting how wilderness values cannot be defined exclusively on scientific terms. Wilderness escapes the rigid determinism of pure science. Its origin and development have been nurtured both by psychological, subjective factors – the appreciation of beauty and the search for solitude, challenge and regeneration – and by science-oriented motivations - the desire to preserve flora and fauna and the ecological balance of nature, and to keep part of the land free from human disturbance. For this reason, wilderness has been defined on the basis of psychological and instrumental values (Godfrey- Smith 1978; Nash 1982; Hall 1991; Wright 1994; Vale 2004); of experiential categories such as the concept of wilderness experience (McKenry 1978; Hamilton-Smith 1978; Henning 1987); and of scientific and biological values (Dearden 1989; Noss 1991; Wright 1994; Mittermeier et al. 2003). The importance of the association between psychological and subjective values on one hand, and scientific values on the other, cannot be underestimated. Excluding scientific arguments for wilderness preservation means supporting a historically challenged cultural concept of conservation, and condemning it to oblivion; but an exclusively scientific use of the wilderness concept would leave out some of the strongest intellectual justification for maintaining the wilderness resource. Ride (1978) was a major player in the acquisition of land for National Parks and reserves in Australia, and his reflection on the concept of wilderness clarifies this point. In seeking a sound foundation for the idea of preserving wilderness, he points out that because wilderness is intended to be the strictest form of reservation, which excludes most human uses, “the argument in favor of conservation must be particularly well founded” (Ride 1978: 40). He

argues that many of the purely scientific arguments in favor of wilderness are not always definitive. Many broad conservation goals can be attained in reserves other than wilderness areas, and wilderness itself hasn’t been proven to be exclusively necessary for the conservation of biological diversity. This is exactly where the other values of the wilderness become crucial: “Because the wilderness concept gains no support from science in being uniquely necessary to fauna and flora preservation, or in having particular scientific values, does not mean that it cannot be supported in other terms. If the arguments are shown to be pseudo-scientific assertions, they are found to retain elements arguing purposes about which science and biotic preservation can say nothing. These elements are statements of felt personal needs that are among the rights of human individuals to experience. Chief of these are beauty, solitude, and challenge. I do not think that we should be ashamed of adopting a stated purpose for wilderness that is confined to this human benefit – a benefit for a part of the community that is particularly self-reliant and expressive. Their need for wilderness is for wilderness experience, an experience that gives them purification, much in the way that some biblical prophets used the wilderness…Yet because science is involved in selecting National Parks and Nature Reserves, we almost seem to be ashamed of letting the true argument for wilderness to stand nakedly on subjective grounds. I am certain that we could do better to do this than to pretend the support of arguments that can be demolished easily by any discerning opposition” (Ride 1978: 41). That the “true” values of wilderness are only subjective can be, and has been, debated. But the fact that the uniqueness of wilderness lays in a combination of scientific and individual values is a key conceptual pillar. Historically, culture has informed the process of defining the values of wilderness, because at different times in history wilderness has been attributed different qualities and characteristics, according to the prevailing culture of the moment. As mentioned above, there are two broad categories of values that have historically been attributed to wilderness. They correspond to two different stages of development of the wilderness idea. When the wilderness preservation movement emerged, the scientific disciplines that underpin conservation hadn’t been born yet. There was no ecological perspective, the notion of ecosystems was not in use, and science didn’t play a great role in the shaping of conservationism. Rather, as observed above, the early history of wilderness preservation was heralded by philosophers or highly cultured and inspired land management officers, who were urban individuals with a refined background. Such

people were the heirs of the Romantic wilderness vision. They showed an appreciation of the values of wilderness, in an entirely “human” perspective. The values of wilderness were, back then, entirely anthropocentric. Wilderness areas were prized not because of their “biodiversity” – a concept that would emerge a century later – nor for their ecosystem services or for other scientific reasons. Nature was appreciated for what it appeared to be. It was its scenic value, its outstanding beauty, its spiritual meaning that animated the pioneers of conservation. Wilderness areas on which environmental battles focused at the beginning were chosen because of their outstanding character, which always meant outstanding beauty and scenic features. Early wilderness preserves were iconic. Their iconic value was the best attribute to guarantee that some enlightened citizen would fight for their preservation. Although the embryo of an ecological thinking was already present in Aldo Leopold’s reflections on the wilderness values, it was still a very raw understanding of ecology. And in any case, the drive for conservation was at the beginning, and remained for a long time, more linked to beauty, aesthetics, scenic features and iconic value then to ecological or scientific representations. This is also why many scholars have come to criticize wilderness, by highlighting its artificial character, its human-based approach, its anthropocentric vision and origin. But this is exactly what wilderness was about. It was the transformation of the natural environment in something that is eminently anthropocentric: heritage. A notion that implies a legacy being left to future generations. Its value is for people, because it is people who inherit and benefit from this legacy. Nature became heritage through wilderness preservation. The proof of this anthropocentric vision is the fact that tourism was the best drive for reservation for a long time (Nash 1982; Dearden 1989; Butler and Boyd 2000; Eagles 2002). Tourism is associated with visual values. The areas that were chosen for reservation offered outstanding opportunities for tourism because of their scenic value and iconic features. Tourism – which is an entirely anthropocentric activity based on a human perception of the values of nature – provided the reason for reservation not only in economic terms, as a substitute for the exploitation of natural resources, but also from an inspirational and motivational perspective. Wilderness needed souls devoted to its cause. Tourism was a magnet for nature lovers, a reason to engage in conservation. And it also solved the issue of the economic rationale for wilderness preservation. The history of preservation is a sequence of fights for beautiful, inspiring, outstandingly iconic areas of the natural environment to which

human values were attached, which justified the effort to preserve them. The parallel development of the idea that nature too can constitute heritage mainly derived from the admiration for very specific landscapes, which were endowed with scenic features, and were normally mountainous, majestic, and forested. These characteristics seem to embody the quintessential wilderness. Deserts constitute some of the last remaining true wilderness, and yet, wilderness enthusiasts would hardly ever mention them or recognize them as wilderness, because of the lack of some fundamental “anthropocentric” values in them – such as beauty, spiritual meaning, tourism and recreation potential (Hamilton-Smith 1978). The dichotomy between anthropocentric and eco-centric or bio-centric- values of wilderness has been a focus of reflection for many scholars. Godfrey-Smith (1978) reflects upon a philosophical distinction regarding the way in which something is attributed values. According to this approach, there is an instrumental value – something being valuable for the sake of something else – and an intrinsic value – something being valued for what it is, not for what uses it can have. Historically, human beings have attributed value to the non natural world according to what benefit it could bring to them. This is the basis of the anthropocentric value of the wilderness. At the time when Godfrey-Smith was writing, the anthropocentric view of the wilderness values was basically the only one. In his classification, four instrumental values of wilderness can be identified. He starts from a definition for which “by wilderness is understood any reasonably large tract of the earth, together with its plant and animal communities, which is substantially unmodified by humans and, in particular, by human technology” (Godfrey-Smith 1978: 58). The first value he identifies is the “cathedral view”. It summarizes one of the main historical arguments for early wilderness preservation. Wilderness provides spiritual regeneration, and there is a religious and mystical dimension to it, which make it comparable to churches. The three pillars of the cathedral view value are spiritual revival, moral regeneration and aesthetic delight. This makes the cathedral view of wilderness the quintessential human-based valuation of it. Its value is referred to three crucial dimensions of human life and perception – spirituality, morality and the appreciation of beauty. Wilderness is perceived as necessary for the fulfillment of these three components of human experience, and to the wellbeing of humans. It is a fundamental aspect of the attribution of the values to wilderness. On one hand, because it inspired much of early conservationism, and the most influential advocates of wilderness were motivated first and foremost by a spiritual,

philosophical and aesthetic drive, as evident in the writings of Thoreau, Muir, Leopold and Marshall for example. It is also the dimension of wilderness which is connected to another major factor behind its success as a conservation category: recreation. Furthermore, this value has had the biggest influence in the transformation of wilderness into human heritage. As Godfrey-Smith (1978: 58) highlights, “preservation of magnificent wilderness areas for those who subscribe to this view is essential for human well-being, and its destruction is conceived as something akin to an act of vandalism, perhaps comparable to – some may regard it as more serious than – the destruction of a magnificent and moving human edifice, such as the Parthenon, the Taj Mahal, or the Palace of Versailles”. This argument is the basis of the inclusion of nature within the realm of heritage. It echoes the reflections of those who heralded the concept of natural heritage as comparable to the cultural heritage. It is, ultimately, the foundation of the original World Heritage idea, in which nature and culture are associated with the notion of outstanding universal value. A second value of wilderness is defined as the “laboratory argument” (Godfrey-Smith 1978: 59). It is a clear anticipation of more refined “scientific” argument for wilderness preservation, because it sees the wilderness as a crucial subject matter to understand the complex functioning of natural ecosystems, of “the intricate interdependencies of biological systems, their modes of change and development, their energy cycles, and the source of their stabilities” (Godfrey-Smith 1978: 59). This is, again, a recurrent argument in favor of wilderness. The intrinsic characteristics of it – it size and undisturbed nature – are considered as benchmarks on the basis of which to assess the damages inflicted by human disturbance. In this understanding, wilderness is an irreplaceable model of self-regulated nature, as opposed to human-modified ecosystems. Bordering a more scientific understanding of the wilderness, this value is considered as instrumental because it is a use of wilderness for scientific purposes, as a laboratory in which humans can refine their understanding of natural laws and mechanisms. Another instrumental value which is closely associated to science and its use of wilderness is what Godrefy-Smith (1978) refers to as the “silo” argument. Our knowledge of nature is partial and incomplete. The potential benefits that natural areas can have for humans are not fully understood nor investigated. Wilderness areas, with their size and intactness, possess a wealth of genetic resources which are preserved there for future benefit. They can become valuable assets,

and a precautionary principle suggests it is wise to maintain them as a sort of assurance for humanity. Finally, wilderness is an important resource for the physical well-being of people. This is the fourth instrumental value, the “gymnasium value”. As analyzed above, the options for physical activity and exercise abound in the wilderness, and this was an important aspect of early preservationists’ pleas for conservation. According to Godfrey-Smith, there is an intrinsic problem in the Western approach to nature and wilderness. On one hand, wilderness is appreciated for the above-mentioned values and qualities, but they are all instrumental. In other word, in the Western tradition wilderness is useful if it fulfills the human needs and well-being. This derives from the assumptions of the philosophy of Descartes, which underpins our science and technology. Nature, according to it, is separate from people, and it can be investigated and modified by human action because it can be reduced to a mechanistic model of functioning. This approach is the basis of a reductive view of the natural world, argues Godfrey-Smith (1978), which is to be blamed for the lack of an appreciation of wilderness for its intrinsic values, rather than for what it represents to humans. A shift would be needed from the reductive view to a holistic approach to nature, which considers men as a component of the natural order and understands that it is impossible to modify just one element of it, without inducing wider and deeper changes which we do not master and cannot control. In such a shift from a reductive to a holistic view of nature and from a physical to a biological paradigm of nature rests the hope for a different role of wilderness, one which is more consistent with a range of values which cannot be reduced to psychological benefits for the human community. A similar perspective is found at a later stage in Dearden (1989), who advocates a transformation of our understanding of wilderness from the subjective, psychological and anthropocentric appreciation of it to a bio-centric perspective. In retracing the origins of the definition of wilderness and of its characterization in the North American context, Dearden highlights the role of tourism and recreation as major drives for wilderness reservation. The values associated with this type of wilderness appreciation echo those mentioned above: “physical challenge, solitude, closeness to nature, freedom from restrictions, nature education, self reliance and a sense of achievement” (Dearden 1989: 207). Other values that are instrumental and psychological can be defined as therapeutic, cultural, spiritual and aesthetic. The prevalence of psychological factors

in the appreciation of wilderness is confirmed by the experiential definition of it. A landmark study, conducted by McKenry (1975) about the attitudes of wilderness visitors and the essence of the so-called “wilderness experience” reports that the values attributed to wilderness by recreational users were “inspiring, beautiful, exciting, good, natural, friendly, free and restful” (McKenry 1975). Hamilton-Smith (1978) identifies six groups of factors which explain and define the wilderness experience, based on the results of the major investigation into the use and value of wilderness for recreation, the United States Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission Study (1962b): “Aesthetic-religious…includes the sense of being one with nature, notions of heightened experience and perception, inspiration and appreciation of scenic beauty and grandeur; escapist…the desire to escape from the cities, to find freedom and spontaneity; challenge…the sense of satisfaction which derives from the development of skills which overcome challenge or threat and heighten ones sense of autonomy; historic-romantic…retrace the steps of the explorers; solitude-companionship…the solitude theme is related very closely to the aesthetic-religious an escapist notions already mentioned, but, except for the occasional lone traveler, it is usually seen as inter-related with the special strength of companionship between two or three people isolated from others in wilderness experience” (Hamilton-Smith 1978: 76). Similar values are reported by Henning (1987), who summarizes the attitudes of wilderness recreational users and the values they attribute to wilderness and mentions, among others “stress removal; personal achievement; spiritual value; social value, nature appreciation; quality recreation; creativity; historical value” (Henning 1987:290-292). Wilderness scholars have been increasingly concerned about the limitation implicit in an exclusively instrumental view of wilderness values (Godfrey-Smith 1978; Dearden 1989; Noss 1991). The evolving paradigms of conservationism shifted the attention from psychological and philosophical understanding of nature to more scientific approaches to its preservation. In wilderness theory, this shift corresponded to the emergence of an awareness of the existence of values specific to wilderness which can support stronger arguments for conservation, in line with the most advanced conservation theories. The so-called “bio-centric” or “eco-centric” values of wilderness reflect this attitudinal change. Wilderness today is no longer perceived as a historic phenomenon linked to a dated perception of nature, emerging from Romanticism and shaped in the North American context by few enlightened wilderness enthusiasts. A new group of

wilderness supporters have argued that there is more than just beauty of spiritual inspiration in what we call wilderness. “The line of argument is exploring the widely accepted distinction between psychological and biophysical qualities of wilderness” (Dearden 1989: 208). The former are the oldest motives behind wilderness preservation: “They do, however, represent some of the strongest historical arguments for wilderness designation. Many wilderness areas in the United States were set aside for these very reasons” (Dearden 1989: 208). In Wright’s analysis of wilderness qualities, the bio-centric values clearly play a major role. He mentions, for example, the “maintenance of integrity of ecological processes; opportunities for the preservation of biodiversity; mitigation of the impacts of climate change…tangible values such as provision of clean water and economic benefits”, side to side with more traditional, anthropocentric values such as “protection of landscapes that have played a significant part in shaping the values and culture of Australia’s Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities; opportunities for Aboriginal and Islander traditional knowledge to assist with ecological research and protection of biological diversity ; spiritual, aesthetic and psychological benefits; an insight into humanity’s place in nature; opportunities for recreation and research” (Wright 1994: 148). It is evident from these passages that the clear recognition of the eco-centric values of wilderness is based on the advancement of conservation theories and of the scientific understanding of how natural ecosystems work, and it reflects contemporary notions such as ecosystem theory, ecosystem services, biodiversity and climate change. Noss (1991) argues that wilderness preservation must be held in high consideration not because of its cultural or subjective values, but because it is a key component of any strategy to preserve biodiversity and assure sustainability. The first value of wilderness, in this approach, is scientific: “wilderness provides a standard of healthy, intact, relatively unmodified land” (Noss 1991: 120). This value echoes some of the most important factors that help identify wilderness areas, such as their size and their “untrammeled” nature, as stated by the American Wilderness Act (1964). Another crucial value of the wilderness is biological: “to provide habitat for species that do not get along well with humans. It is no accident that the only places in the world with healthy populations of all native carnivores are Big Wilderness” (Noss 1991: 120). Despite his focus on scientific arguments for wilderness preservation, separating entirely the bio-centric values of wilderness from its cultural dimension is difficult, which is why the third set of values identified

by Noss (1991: 121) is anthropocentric: wilderness is also “a source of humility. Wilderness represents self-imposed restraint in a society that generally seeks to dominate and control all of nature”. The importance of wilderness to nature conservation and biodiversity is stressed by Kirkpatrick (1994): “the remoteness and primitiveness of wilderness areas makes them some of the most important parts of the surface of the Earth for the conservation of biological diversity” (Kirkpatrick 1994: 164). Some of the key benefits of wilderness areas for biodiversity and science include the absence of barriers and impediments for the free movement of native animals; the size, which guarantees a higher likelihood of survival for species and an easier adaptation to climatic changes; the provision of benchmark areas for the study of healthy ecosystems and of the impacts of human disturbance on natural areas; and unique laboratories in which science can gain a better understanding of evolutionary processes (Kirkpatrick 1994). The true relation between wilderness and biodiversity conservation is a contradictory one. This is due to the fact that while on one hand the qualities of wilderness areas – remoteness, primitiveness, naturalness and size – ensure a better chance of survival for complex ecosystems and for native species, on the other hand wilderness has so far been residual; as the worthless lands hypothesis states (Runte 1973), only areas with little or no economic value to human societies have been left as wilderness, and such areas are often not the cradles of biodiversity on a global scale. Several scholars have attempted to set criteria to calculate the extent of remaining wilderness worldwide, and to assess its value of biodiversity conservation (Mittermeier et al 2003; McCloskey and Spalding 1988; Hannah et al 1994; Sanderson et al. 2002). According to the benchmarks that are adopted as minimum criteria for wilderness identification, the results of these studies vary enormously. For example, MCloskey and Spalding (1989) who conducted the first survey of global wilderness for the Sierra Club, considered only areas of at least 400,000 hectares in size, with no permanent human infrastructure, and found that approximately one third of the Earth was still in a wilderness condition. Hannah (1994) adopted a much smaller minimal area of 40.000 hectares, and consequently they concluded that 52% of the Earth would fall in the wilderness category. The most recent and comprehensive assessment of remaining wilderness has been carried out by Mittermeir et al (2003). The minimum size of inclusion in this study is 10.000 km (or 1 million hectares), with less than 5 people per km2, and a benchmark for intactness of the region set at 70% of the historical habitat extent, calculated for 500 years ago.

24 wilderness areas were identified, which fall into 9 terrestrial biomes: Tropical-Humid Forest (12% of the total); Tropical Dry Forest and Tropical Grassland (4% of the total); Warm Deserts/Semi-deserts and Cold-Winter Deserts (30% of the total); Mixed Mountain Systems, Temperate Rainforests and Temperate Needleaf Forests (25% of the total); Tundra Communities and Arctic deserts (30% of the total); and small Wetlands representing 1% of the total. While the historical area of such wilderness regions was 52% of the Earth, or 76 million Km2, the remaining intact wilderness covers 64 million km2, or 44% of the Earth surface. The interesting reflection on these figures is that overall, only five wilderness regions also have high biological diversity, and they cover approximately 9 million km2, or 6.1% of the planet; the remaining wilderness regions here identified are less biologically diverse, and over a third of the total is permanently covered in ice. Another interesting aspect of this study, for the scope of the present research, is that the only wilderness region identified which is entirely protected is the Tasmanian Wilderness. Its area also coincides entirely with a World Heritage designation. For the above-mentioned reasons, equating wilderness with biodiversity is not scientifically accurate, although it is certainly a valid argument that certain wilderness areas contain a wealth of biodiversity which has the highest chances of survival because it is comprised within a wilderness area. Advocating the protection of wilderness purely because of biodiversity, though, would not be appropriate, and this represents a crucial issue. As much as wilderness holds key features that make it suitable as a scientific conservation category, and fulfills some of the most advanced environmental protection paradigms, yet wilderness remains something different than any other conservation category. The importance of its bio-centric values is clear but it can be overstated. And most of all, it cannot be separated from the historical, psychological and cultural values that have shaped the concept and from which the wilderness idea has emerged. Nonetheless, a scientific argument that underpins the relevance of the potential role of wilderness in future conservation strategies derives from the most serious environmental threat the earth currently faces: climate change. Given its prominence in the environmental debate, it is worth mentioning its relation with wilderness, which has two aspects. On one hand, climate change is a factor that strengthens the claim that no real wilderness exists today, if by wilderness is meant an untouched, pristine natural area. Intangible factors such as pollution and human-induced climatic change have reached virtually every corner of the earth. On the other hand, the scientific, bio-

centric values of wilderness analyzed above suggest that wilderness possesses a comparative advantage with regard to climatic changes. The size and integrity of wilderness areas is the best asset for mitigation and adaptation to climate change. In other words, the resilience (Holling 1973) of ecosystems is strongest in large and undisturbed natural areas. If any natural region has a better chance to survive the impacts of climate change, this is surely a wilderness area. Overall, the analysis of the multiple values of wilderness highlights that the concept can and should be used as a contemporary conservation paradigm. But it cannot and should not be reduced to a scientific notion, because its strength and meaning reside in a mix of anthropocentric and bio- centric values, all of which have played a role, in any given historical moment, in the development and survival of the idea. The shift that many authors invoke – from a reductive to a holistic view of nature (Godfrey-Smith 1978); from a perceived to an objective notion of wilderness (Hamilton-Smith 1978) and finally “from monumentalism through protectionism to isolationism and eventually integration” (Dearden 1989: 209) is at the basis of the current revolution in environmental matters and in conservation theory; but on the other hand, the wilderness idea should not be entirely assimilated into the category of scientific environmental conservationism. “Monumentalism” has played a major role in the wilderness movement. The symbolic and iconic value of wilderness has been its best advocates and the best tools to mobilize public opinion in favor of threatened wilderness regions. Wilderness can and does play a crucial role in conservation, but only the awareness of what wilderness has been, as a historical and cultural idea, can ensure its appropriate use.

Summary

Wilderness was born as an entirely cultural idea, typical of Western philosophy. It developed as a positive idea out of a Romantic appreciation of nature, and through the experience first of British settlers in North America, and then of the new American identity. Because of its cultural origin, and given its emergence at a time where scientific understanding of the natural world was limited, wilderness was attributed values that were merely anthropocentric and instrumental. They were often associated with aesthetics, scenic features, and iconic values. The fact that wilderness areas were perceived as outstanding, magnificent, beautiful, inspiring and that

recreation was a major drive for reservation proves that this was a human idea of nature, a constructed, artificial, emotional perspective on what nature is and how it works. It was the transformation of nature into a human heritage. From the cultural dimension of wilderness there emerged also a legislative dimension, with a consecration in the US Wilderness Act of 1964, which marked the culmination of the efforts of wilderness preservationists and made wilderness into a major land management and conservation category in the United States. Wilderness was and remains a peculiar and unique perspective on what nature is and how it should be protected. Its uniqueness resides in a mix of anthropocentric and bio-centric values, of psychological and scientific qualities of wilderness region. The same complexity can be found in the World Heritage idea, the only conservation system which shares with wilderness a similar cultural origin and a comparable association between monumentalism and science, iconic value and ecological perspective. The conclusions of this historical analysis of the wilderness idea suggest that the best recipient of it as a conservation category is the World Heritage Convention. The World Heritage idea is the underpinning notion for the only global conservation system which retains the same complex imprint of wilderness: a mix of anthropocentric values, reflected in the notion of heritage, and bio-centric values, determined by the significance of World Heritage areas to global conservation strategies. The World Heritage Convention is founded both on monumentalism and scientific conservation; on psychological and instrumental qualities such as outstanding character, iconic value and beauty, and bio-centric criteria such as and biodiversity, resilience and ecology. Wilderness and World Heritage share a common conceptual origin, and a genetic affinity. This makes wilderness a natural conservation category for the World Heritage system. The paradox is that it is the only conservation category that hasn’t received official consecration within it. Before exploring in depth the correlation and similarity between the wilderness idea and World Heritage, it is useful to analyze how wilderness has been translated into a global conservation category, and a land management criterion. The example of the US Wilderness Act of 1964 has been followed in several countries, mostly sharing with the United States a history of British colonization and reflecting the impact of European settler’s culture on wilderness. At the global institutional level, the IUCN has also included wilderness among its protected areas categories, setting a common benchmark for wilderness designation and protection worldwide. Wilderness

is far more than an old historical and cultural vision of nature. It is a vital component of the World Conservation Strategy and a conservation paradigm which is still very much alive. A look at the use of the wilderness notion as a land management and conservation category around the world will further clarify this point.

CHAPTER III

Wilderness as a conservation and land management category worldwide

Wilderness is the single most resilient paradigm of nature conservation. Despite its historical dimension and its controversial notion, it has survived to these days as one of the major categories of land use and protection. Several countries recognize wilderness as such. Not all of them adhere to the unsurpassed wilderness model – the North American Wilderness Preservation System as mandated by the US Wilderness Act of 1964- but wilderness or equivalent notions exist in different contexts and cultures, from Japan to Scandinavia to several African countries, from Russia to the former British colonies of the Commonwealth (Kormos 2008). The focus of this chapter is on the latter, as well as on the fact that the concept is also officially part of the global architecture of conservation, as it represents one of the categories of protected areas devised by the IUCN. The use of wilderness as a conservation paradigm is strongest in countries that share with the United States a legacy of British settlement, and in which wilderness has emerged and been shaped by similar factors and through equivalent processes (Shultis 1995). Only in these countries there exists a coherent conceptual, legislative and managerial approach to the wilderness resource and a true inclusion of the notion among the main drives of land reservation, a circumstance which is coupled by the existence there of wilderness areas that match the most stringent criteria for the identification of the resource at a global level. The review of wilderness as a global conservation category highlights the intrinsic validity of it as a contemporary tool of conservation, and as one which because of its unique features possesses the flexibility and complexity necessary to respond to both the anthropocentric and the bio-centric aspects of nature preservation, and is equipped to respond to the physical and cultural challenges that the contemporary socio-economic world order poses to nature conservation.

The US model: wilderness legislation in Canada, New Zealand and Australia

It is not by chance that the most similar development of the wilderness idea to the United States model occurred in countries which were British colonies. In fact, at the global level only such

countries have embedded wilderness as an explicit conservation category and in a way that is comparable to the North American example. Other countries that do mention wilderness in their conservation legislation – like few European nations – hardly possess any relevant wilderness at all. Shultis (1995) highlights the similarities between the establishment of national parks systems and the protection of wilderness in the United States and in Canada, New Zealand and Australia. His analysis focuses on national parks in general, and it is interesting because it shows that at the beginning, the protection of wilderness was only residual. This means that there was no explicit attempt to protect wilderness as such and to acknowledge the intrinsic values of it. Rather, similar motivations such as recreational opportunities and the desire to put what were perceived as “worthless lands” to use prompted governments to establish protected areas along the lines of Yellowstone and Yosemite. Similar motivations represented the drives for the establishment of protected areas in the British colonies: the abundance of natural areas and virgin territory, the “worthless lands” factor, and the desire to derive revenue from such lands through tourism. According to this analysis, for example, the government of MacDonald in Canada declared the country’s first protected areas in the Rocky Mountains, where a hot spring had been accidentally discovered. Just like in the case of Yellowstone, the move to protect the spring and its surrounding area was dictated by the desire to avoid private exploitation and to develop tourism. Canada’s vast wilderness became accessible with the development of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and the management of the protected area in Banff was a joint venture between the latter and the Canadian government. Yellowstone, according to Shultis (1995), was an explicit reference and a model for the establishment of Canada’s parks and protected area. Before the end of the 19th century several of the country’s most notable national parks had been declared – namely Yoho and Glacier in 1886 and Waterton Lakes in 1895. The same mix of tourism development projects, outstanding natural features and worthless lands factor determined the creation of a network of national parks and protected areas in New Zealand. Again, Yellowstone was considered as an unsurpassed model and the first protected areas were centered as well on hot springs and thermal resources, with the “resort development” in mind. In the case of New Zealand, as highlighted by Shultis (1995), the fact that British settlement began relatively late favored a stronger awareness of the benefits and advantages of some degree of conservation, as well as of the potential revenues to be derived from tourism. The

fourth national park in the world – Tongariro – was declared in 1894, 7 years after Maori Chef Te Heuheu Tukino III deeded the land to the government, hoping that the declaration of a national park would save it from economic exploitation and uncontrolled settlement (Shultis 1995:39). In Australia, the perception of the land by British settlers was probably the most extreme. The land down under appeared odd and inhospitable, with its strange wildlife and uncommon features (Hall 1991). Only in the 19th century did an appreciation of the Australian environments start to appear, and with it, the push for some kind of reservation. The first protected area was declared in 1866, in the Blue Mountains region, centered on the Fish River area, better known as the Jenolah Caves. It was in 1879 though that the first area that is considered to be Australia’s equivalent of Yellowstone or Yosemite was declared. It was a 7284 ha region at the doorstep of the country’s largest urban settlement, the city of Sydney. Called simply the National Park, and late renamed as Royal National Park, it was intended to provide Sydneysiders with a pleasure ground for recreation, and to escape the pollution and stress of the urban environment. Recreation and tourism were, once again, the primary reason behind the reservation. Each State of the Federation eventually proceeded to declare some regions as reserves or national parks, with different timing and legislations, given that according to the Australian Constitution, the powers related to natural resources belong to States ad not to the Commonwealth. South Australia declared its first national park in 1891, Victoria in 1892, Western Australia in 1895, Queensland in 1908. The last State to declare a protected area in the form of a national park was the Island-State of Tasmania, in 1916 (Shultis 1995). The peculiarity of Australia’s first national parks was their closeness to major urban areas and a clear focus on tourism and recreation, on the provision of a pleasure ground to the inhabitants of Australian cities. The wilderness as such didn’t receive much attention nor did it represent a decisive argument for preservation. Overall, Shultis (1995) identifies 8 factors as crucial in the common history of protected areas and national parks designation in the British colonies. The first reason was the very identity of the countries: the fact that they had been settled by Englishmen who imported their vision of heritage and of public parks and gardens, as well as their cultural elite that appreciated nature and its recreational values. The British value of public goods and the desire to tame wilderness by opening up the country and exploiting its natural resources was also a common feature in the

above-mentioned colonies. Obviously, the corollary to this is the abundance, in the new colonies, of land and virgin territory to conquer and settle. Public ownership of most of such lands differentiated their development from that of Great Britain, and favored the typical pattern of development of national parks. The enforcement of protective measure in scenic natural areas was also prompted by the “mismanagement” attributed to private exploitation, such as the case of Niagara Falls n North America, and this “reactive” measure is a third factor in the development of the national park system. An important cultural motive, which has been highlighted particularly in the North American context (Nash 1982), was the desire to use nature and its scenic features to create a public ethos for new, young nations which lacked the cultural wonders of old Europe. Natural landscapes of great beauty and iconic value became the equivalent to European monuments, which infused the colonial governments with pride and prestige and helped shape a new national identity. The remaining factors behind the establishment of national parks in British colonies all have to do with instrumental, economic values. They are the desire to derive revenues from tourism and the parallel need for pleasure grounds and recreational opportunities for citizens; the related perception of worthless lands and the willingness to find alternative was to put them to productive us, to which tourism provided a perfect solution; and as a result of colonization and exploitation, the concern over the degradation of natural resources, the depletion of wildlife and the destruction of valuable natural heritage, deriving from the push to conquer and tame the wild frontier. Taken together, these factors shed light to the complex process of establishment of national parks in British colonies around the world in the 19th century (Shultis 1995). As historically enlightening as it may be, this analysis doesn’t clarify the role and fate of wilderness itself in this historical process. National parks, as mentioned above, were designated close to cities and in order to provide scenic recreation opportunities. More often than not, they were not proper wilderness areas, particularly in Australia, where more tame coastal regions were favored over more rugged wilderness areas, with the notable exception of Tasmania.

Canada: a wilderness giant

In Canada, for example, wilderness seems to have emerged as a strong theme of conservation of imagery only in relatively recent times. According to Nelson (1989), while Canada’s national park system was modeled on the United States accomplishments, the mythical and iconic symbolism of the wilderness idea didn’t have any equivalent for a long period. National parks were created mainly for recreational reasons, with a predominant utilitarian view of natural resources typical of the national governments and society. Canada had no fierce environmental battles like Hetch Hetchy or the Grand Canyon in the United States; it had no charismatic wilderness philosophers neither mass social organization of wilderness supporters such as the Sierra Club or the Wilderness Society. The first and most notable supporter of wilderness preservation, James Harkin – who served as first director of the national park service – was inclined to compromise in order to ensure a steady development of the protected areas system, and he saw tourism as an important resource for conservation, including accepting mechanized access and automobiles in national parks. Recreation was, indeed, a major factor in Canada’s conservation history, as witnessed by the country’s most iconic and oldest national park, Banff. Created in 1885 when it was the world’s third national park, it was designated to be “a public park and pleasure grounds for the people of Canada” (Lotian 1977). The number of visitors never ceased to increase, and went from approximately 70.000 at the beginning of the 20th century to the current 4 million a year. The park is bisected by the Trans-Canada Highway, and it hosts thousands of km of trails. Other iconic parks such as Wood Buffalo on the border between Alberta and the Northern Territories or Point Pelee in Ontario were designated to protect endangered wildlife – the bison in the former, migratory birds in the latter- and not for wilderness protection. Few notable writers and artists did contribute to the wilderness imagery in Canada – such as Charles Roberts and Ernest Thompson Seton, or painters like Tom Thompson and A.Y. Jackson. More recently, biologists such as Douglas Pimlott and John Theberge also played a role in voicing concern over the wilderness per se (Nelson 1989). Overall, though, wilderness symbolism was much more subdued in the country which occupies the second place globally for extension, and possesses a large share of the global wilderness resource. According to a survey conducted in 1992, outside of Antarctica Canada possesses 20% of the Earth’s remaining wilderness (Kormos 2008). Canada’s focus on wilderness is also more regional than national. Provinces like British Columbia and Ontario adhere more strictly to the US wilderness

model and imagery (Nelson 1989). In general, only after the 1970’s wilderness became an explicit focus of preservation policies (Kormos 2008). Given the country’s sheer size and its small population, which is highly concentrated, and despite the fact that approximately 65% of the territory has already been developed (Kormos 2008), most of the protected landscapes in Canada encompass vast wilderness areas, or coincide entirely with wilderness. In 1988, an amendment to the National Parks Act introduced explicit reference to the wilderness concept, by including the notion of ecological integrity as a priority in the conservation policy of the country. In 2000, a new National Parks Act was passed, which states that “Cabinet may declare any area of a park that exists in a natural stat or that is capable of returning to a natural state to be a wilderness area” (Kormos 2008). The embedding of wilderness in the preservation system and policy of Canada is thus evident, although it is only a recent development. Provinces with official wilderness legislation are Alberta, Ontario, Newfoundland and Saskatchewan, and over 14 million hectares of national parks in the North of the country are mostly wilderness, being roadless and of size and integrity adequate to the strictest wilderness criteria (Eidsvik 1989). The country’s first official wilderness area to be designated and legally protected, in the year 2000, is located within four national parks – Banff, Jasper, Kootenay and Yoho – and it occupies the core of the Canadian Rocky Mountain World Heritage area. This is not a mere circumstance. In the countries where wilderness has a history of recognition and protection, there is often an overlap between wilderness areas and World heritage sites. It happens in the United States, where several of the country’s most well-known World Heritage properties are also historical wilderness areas that have been icons of conservationism, and it also happens in New Zealand and Australia. In Canada major protected wilderness areas are today included within World Heritage areas as well.

Wilderness purism in New Zealand

Wilderness in New Zealand has attained a level of purism that is not found elsewhere (Shultis 1999). As noted elsewhere, the reservation of lands as national parks in New Zealand followed a usual scheme of worthless lands and intended tourism development. The close relation between recreation and tourism and natural protected areas has strengthened throughout the last two centuries. Nowadays, New Zealand’s tourism industry utilizes imagery of wilderness and scenic

natural environments to promote the country abroad, and a strong synergy exists between conservation and economic development. In fact, “economic conservation” is a term that has been used to describe the peculiar interrelation between nature protection and the tourism sector in the country (Hall and Higham 1998), with the tight collaboration between the Department of Conservation and the New Zealand Tourism Board. The system of protected areas covers almost one third of the country, and it is made up of different denomination and levels of protection, many of which encompass wilderness areas. Wilderness as a legislative category has evolved in New Zealand through different stages: the National Parks Act of 1952, its amendment in 1980, and the passing of the Wilderness Policy in 1985 (Shultis 1999). The influence of the American legislation was crucial, and according to Shultis (1999) two people played a major role in the shaping of the country’s wilderness policy. In 1939, Lance McCaskill visited the United States to discuss wilderness protection matters with champions of the wilderness movements such as Aldo Leopold; in 1949 Olaus Murie visited New Zealand and he gave a strong contribution to the acceleration of wilderness legislation. The evolution of the wilderness policy in New Zealand signals a trend towards the strengthening of conservation at the expenses of recreational values and opportunities (Shultis 1999). In the National Parks Act of 1952, wilderness did not receive a great deal of attention and detail. The legislation recognized wilderness as a state of nature, and it mandated that it be kept natural, that “no buildings of any description or ski towns or other apparatus shall be erected or constructed thereof”; that “no horses or other animals or vehicle of any description shall be allowed to be taken onto or used in the area”; and that “no roads, tracks, or trails shall be constructed on the area except such foot tracks for the use of persons entering the area on foot as for the Board deems necessary or desirable” (National Parks Act 1952: 34.2). So the original “political” wilderness – that is, the wilderness as defined legally – in New Zealand mandated an area with a natural character, no permanent human presence and no facilitated access with animals or mechanized means. In 1980, the amendment of the National Parks Act strengthened the protection of wilderness, particularly in response to growing concern for damages inflicted on the fragile resource by access. The difference with regard to the 1952 Act was the introduction of a provision for the “destruction or eradication of introduced plants or animals...” (National Parks Act 1980: 14.2).

The single biggest evolution of the wilderness concept as legislated in New Zealand was introduced by the Wilderness Policy in 1985. Published by the Department of Lands and Survey for the Wilderness Advisory Group, it aimed at promoting a more coherent management of the wilderness resource and a better conservation outcome. A more refined, detailed definition of wilderness is enshrined in this document. According to it, “wilderness areas are wild lands designated for their protection and managed to perpetuate their natural condition and which appear to have been affected only by the forces of nature, with any imprint of human interference substantially unnoticed” (Wilderness Policy 1985). Criteria that must be met by wilderness areas include size, which must be large enough “to take at least 2 days’ foot travel to traverse”; boundaries, which must provide for buffer zones that minimize human impacts; and the absence of developments of any kind; a “wide geographic distribution and contain diversity in landscape and recreational opportunity”; the goal to preserve the resource and the fact that “ideally should be managed in perpetuity”, although the same passage states that the designation may be revoked. Kormos (2008) finds that the concept of wilderness enshrined in this legislation “essentially promotes the notion that the wilderness is personal; that it embodies remoteness, discovery, challenge, solitude, freedom, and romance; and that it fosters self-reliance and empathy with wild nature” (Kormos 2008: 197). According to Shultis (1999), instead, such transformation of the wilderness notion “has created a more stringent or “purist” conception of wilderness than found in other countries. Neither recreational facilities (including recreational trails) nor commercial industrial activities are permitted…As a result, wilderness areas in New Zealand have become more strictly geared towards preservation than recreation” (Shultis 1999: 394).

Australian wilderness: a World Heritage saga

Wilderness is a pivotal element in the conservation of nature in Australia. Most Australian States possess legislations that recognize wilderness as a specific conservation category, and also at the Federal level wilderness has received an official endorsement as a paradigm for reservation (Whitehouse 1994; Johnstone 1978). Australia has also given a major intellectual contribution to the global wilderness idea, with the conceptualization of original notions such as the “wilderness

continuum” and the drafting of comprehensive and accurate wilderness inventories (Helman et al. 1976; Feller et al 1979; Russell et al. 1979; Kirkpatrick 1979; Lesslie et al. 1984; Lesslie and Taylor 1985; Mackay et al. 1998). The history and the development of the wilderness concept in Australia, though, have been full of contradictions and obstacles. The process bears resemblances to the North American model, but it also contains several crucial differences, which reflect the peculiar history of colonization of the continent and a unique relationship between British settlers and the land. Hall (1991) points to two important elements which determined the attitude of European settlers to the Australian environment. On one hand, he highlights that to the first settlers, Australia appeared indeed as a vast wilderness. Despite the fact that the continent had been inhabited for millennia by the Aborigines, and much of its natural environment was a result of this habitation, “the Aboriginal landscape was imbued with meanings that were not recognizable by the first European settlers” (Hall 1991: 74). The Europeans considered Australia as Terra Nullius, which gave them a right to claim sovereignty over it. On the other hand, the Australian landscape was different from anything British settlers were accustomed to, and this also influenced the uniqueness of the Australian attitude towards wilderness when compared to the American model. “The settlers of Australia and North America were faced by a wilderness – a land that was alien in character to their previous environmental experience. In North America there were, at least, certain similarities in season and plant and animal life to help the settlers adjust to their new setting, whereas the new inhabitants of Australia were faced with a bizarre new world which was, as a contemporary commentator described, replete with ‘antipodean perversities” (Hall 1991: 75). The commentator quoted by Hall was J. Martin, who wrote in 1838: “the appearance of light-green meadows lured settlers into swamps where their sheep contracted rot, trees retained their leaves and shed their bark instead, the more frequent the trees, the most sterile the soil, the birds did not sing, the swans were black, the eagles white, the bees were stingless, some mammals had pockets, others laid eggs, it was warmest on the hills and coolest in the valleys, even the blackberries were red, and to crown it all the greatest rogue may be converted into the most useful citizen such is Terra Australis” (in Hall 1991: 75). The alienation of settlers from the Australian environment determined their predatory and detached approach to it, although Hall

(1991) identifies a contradictory set of relations between settlers and environment: a view that he describes as “unfavorable utilitarian” and one that he terms as “picturesque” (Hall 1991: 77). The latter developed as the classic Romantic view of the landscape, which according to Powell led to an idealization of “the bush” as a garden of Eden in which to seek refuge and regeneration (Powell 1972) in the typical pattern common to Romantic visions of nature across the nation of British settlement. Whitehouse (1994) stresses this key theme of the Australian peculiarity in relation to the concept of wilderness. He identifies seven characteristics of the wilderness idea in Australia that diversify it from the American equivalent. They are the “alienation” of European settlers from the Australian environment and the consequent “lack of a philosophical basis which extolled and sanctified wilderness and natural areas”; the fact that Europeans occupied Australia in a relatively little time, and as a result they didn’t develop a myth of the frontier; the landscape to which the settlers eventually got attached and for which they found admiration and respect was not the original wilderness but rather a new “pastoral landscape” that they implanted after clearing the bush; the national park and preservation movement didn’t focus on iconic wilderness areas, but rather on the concept of “urban and civic park” in which the landscape was intentionally modified in order to transform it into a recreational ground, and reservation occurred in areas that were near the coast and closer to major urban centers; the wilderness concept was limited to the development of national parks and exclusive to that context; the Australian wilderness image was associated predominantly with mountains and forests of Eastern Australia, with an underestimation of the wilderness values of arid regions and marine areas; the origin of the wilderness idea had a recreational focus, but this has dramatically shifted today towards a focus on biological and ecosystem-based concept – that is, from a purely anthropocentric vision of wilderness values to a primarily eco-centric model (Whitehouse 1994: 94-95). Mosley (1977) argues that Australia should be acknowledged as the first place to create a national park in the world, because the reservation of Port Hacking near Sydney gave the area the title of National Park before the same applied to Yellowstone, which is normally considered as the prototype of national park. In addition, he suggests that “the movement which led to the declaration of Royal National Park was completely local and indigenous” (Mosley 1977: 27). This doesn’t mean though, that wilderness received a consecration on Australian soil back then.

In fact, the declaration of the Royal National park responded to the worthless lands model on one hand, and to the “civic” park idea on the other, rather than to the appreciation of wilderness: “Very little regard was had to the naturalness of the land in deciding to set the National Park aside for this purpose and wilderness conservation was very far from the mind of its promoters” (Mosley 1977: 27). The appearance of the wilderness theme in reservation was linked to recreational use of nature. The merit for the inclusion of wilderness as a priority in conservation policy goes to bushwalkers clubs, which were formed in the first three decades of the 20th century. The Mountain Trails Club was formed in 1914, the Sydney Bush Walkers in 1927 and the New South Wales Federation of Bush Walking Clubs in 1932. The prominence of these associations in the movement that led to wilderness preservation in Australia also explains why New South Wales has been the champion of the wilderness idea in Australia, and its legislation provided the first model of wilderness preservation in the country (Whitehouse 1994). The idea from which Australian wilderness emerged was that of “primitive areas” (Mosley 1977). The naturalness of such areas was recognized as their best asset by bushwalkers, and the demand for the preservation of roadless areas where primitive conditions of the environment could be maintained formed the basis on which wilderness conservation developed. A champion of wilderness conservation was Myles Dunphy, himself a keen bushwalker and the leader of the movement for primitive areas reservation in New South Wales. He was behind the early attempts to declare a national park in the Blue Mountains region, which in his plans had as a major goal that to protect some of the best wilderness in the State (Mosley 1977). In his project, heralded by the National Park and Primitive Areas Council which Dunphy created, the innovative idea of zoning also appeared, according to which a national park could both protect wilderness and cater to recreational users with a subdivision in a core primitive area and in zones here tourism development could occur. The first three primitive areas to be declared were the Tallowa Primitive Area (1934), the Morton Primitive Area in 1938, and the Heathcote Primitive Area in 1943. It is interesting to note, as Mosley does, that at this early stage two diverging attitudes towards the wilderness resource started to emerge. They reflect the above-mentioned dichotomy between the anthropocentric and the bio-centric perception of the values of wilderness. Scientists started to demand that wilderness areas be reserved for the purpose of scientific investigation,

while bushwalkers wanted access to the wilderness resource for recreational purposes to be assured. The first legislative recognition of wilderness was contained in the National Parks and Wildlife Act (New South Wales) of 1967, which considered “the setting apart of the whole or part of a national park or state park as a wilderness area” (Whitehouse 1994). This was still a very general provision, and the amended National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974 (NSW) elaborated on the matter, and “enabled the specific declaration of lands within a national park and nature reserve as a wilderness area” (Whitehouse 1994: 95). The Act gives specification in regard to the management of wilderness areas eventually declared: “the area shall be kept and maintained in a wilderness condition; no structures shall be erected or constructed within the area” (National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974, section 61). Exceptions to this rule could be declared by the Director of the Park, in order to provide facilities for scientific study or for safety of visitors. The importance of this legislation resides in the recognition of wilderness as an official land use category, and the fact that it mandates the preservation of the wilderness character of the area. The development of both national parks and wilderness legislation occurred also in the other Australian States. A first National Park was proclaimed in every State, with Tasmania being the last to declare a National Park, in 1916. Whitehouse (1994) identifies three models of wilderness preservation in Australia. The first one, championed by New South Wales, is defined as the “comprehensive legislative model”. It gives wilderness a specific role as a conservation category and provides separate legislation for it, mandating also the guidelines and rules for wilderness management. This model is also represented in Victoria and South Australia. The second scheme is termed “minimal legislative model”, which recognizes the wilderness but it limits the declaration of wilderness areas to sections of national parks or reserves and only offers some guidelines for management. Such approach is present is Queensland, the Northern Territory, Western Australia, the Australian Capital Territory and at the Commonwealth level. The third approach to the wilderness resource is defined as “non-existent legislative model”. Represented by Tasmania, it lacks any official mention of wilderness per se, and leaves to the administrative discretion the identification and management of wilderness. The second half of the 20th century marked the transformation of wilderness into a major conservation issue and into a defining concept for the Australian reserve system. A pivotal

moment was the release of the Helman Report in 1976, which assessed the wilderness resource in Eastern Australia and reviewed concepts, definitions, values and management guidelines (Helman et al. 1976). Wilderness received there a detailed, scientific definition, according to which the criteria for a wilderness area include (Helman et al. 1976): - a minimum core area of 25,000 hectares; - a core area free of major indentations; - a core area of at least 10 km in width; - a management zone surrounding the core area, of about 25,000 hectares or more. According to Whitehouse (1994), the influence of the Helman Report was extraordinary. The Wollemi National Park, which today forms the wilderness core of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area, was declared only four years after the release of the report. The movement for the reservation of precious rainforests in Northern New South Wales also received a boost in the first years of the 1980s, and those areas were later included as well into a World Heritage Area (named first as Central Eastern Rainforests World Heritage Area, and recently renamed Gondwana Rainforests of Australia World Heritage Area). The beginning of the 1980s was a turning point for wilderness reservation also for another reason. It was in those years that Australia’s most fierce wilderness battle was fought. Ironically, this occurred in the only State which did not recognize wilderness as a separate conservation category: Tasmania. The paradox of the Tasmanian wilderness is the most outstanding example of the contradictions, but also of the strength, of wilderness as a catalyst for conservationism and as a paradigm for nature preservation. The Tasmanian Wilderness embodied the very essence of the wilderness resource in the continent: forested mountainous country, with spectacular landscapes, scenic feature, iconic sites and the most rugged, harsh and isolated environment of the country. The importance of the wilderness battle in Tasmania cannot be underestimated. It has set the benchmark for wilderness preservation around the country, it has given wilderness a prominence that was unknown until then and has influenced the fate of other iconic wilderness regions in Australia; and what is more important, it has created the precedent for an official link between wilderness an World Heritage. The Tasmanian wilderness has since then coincided entirely with the World Heritage brand, and the legislation that protected it constitutes the first implementation of the World Heritage Convention in Australia, creating an inseparable relation

between the two notions – wilderness and World Heritage – that has no equivalent in the world. The proclamation of protected areas in Tasmania started in 1916 with the passage of the Scenery Preservation Act, which created the first National Park in the area of Mount Field, to the West of the capital city of Hobart. No explicit desire to protect wilderness was expressed in that legislation, and the lack of an official wilderness designation persisted in Tasmania also after the approval of the National Parks and Wildlife Act in 1970. Mendel (2002) reviews the development of wilderness preservation in Tasmania, based on a subdivision in three historical periods: 1916-1937, 1938-1970, and 1971-1992. This study is based on the definition of wilderness according to the major inventories conducted in Tasmania. The first of such inventories was realized by Russell (Russell et al. 1979), along the lines of the previous inventories that took place in other States, notable New South Wales and Victoria (Helman et al 1976). Kirkpatrick (1979) criticized these studies and provided a different method to identify wilderness in Tasmania. He used the classic criteria of remoteness from mechanized access, naturalness as lack of human disturbance and minimum size of the wilderness area. He proposed a core area that should be at least 5 km from the closest mechanized access and with a buffer zone extending from the core to the point of access (boats were excluded from the mechanized means of access). The distance of 5 km was calculated according to the criterion of walking distance and time. On the basis of wilderness identification criteria and the maps produced for the starting dates of the historical period that are here considered, wilderness areas n Tasmania occupied a total of 6,833,110 ha at the time of European arrival in Tasmania. This is the equivalent of the entire area of Tasmania. By 1916, a loss of 57% of the wilderness resource was recorded, and total wilderness was calculated at a core of 2,941, 200 ha. Already at this stage, the geographical predominance of the South West and Western Tasmania regions emerged clearly. Between 1916 and 1937 – or the first historical period considered in this study - there occurred little attrition on wilderness, with a loss of approximately 7%, down to 2,733,400 ha. The completion of the Lyell Highway, linking Hobart and Queenstown in the State West Coast, split the geographical region of Western Tasmania between the South-West and the Central-Western region. A dramatic decrease of the wilderness resource occurred over the second period, between 1937 and 1970. About 30% of the remaining wilderness was lost, with 28% of pre-European wilderness still existing, equal to 1,924,000 ha. It must be noted that in this calculation, it is

assumed that disturbed or lost wilderness areas can “return” to their pristine condition once disturbance ceases, and such areas on the West Coast are included in this figure, due to the abandonment of old mines and their transport routes. This concept of “restoration” of wilderness is not shared by all scholars. The last period considered, 1970-1992, witnessed a critical blow to the extent of the wilderness resource. It is namely over this time slice that the battle for the Tasmanian wilderness peaked. The heart of the wilderness in Tasmania – the South West – was encroached by hydro-industrial projects, of which the flooding of Lake Pedder and the creation of Lake Gordon constituted the most dramatic development. Overall, a further 43% of wilderness was lost, and the total wilderness area decreased to 1,098,000 ha, which was a mere 16% of the pre-European wilderness (Mendel 2002). The striking feature of the Tasmanian wilderness history, though, is its relation with preservation. The loss of wilderness went hand in hand with an intensification of the efforts to preserve what was left of this vanishing resource. In this respect, it was a very successful endeavor. By the end of the last historical period, in 1992, 90,4% of remaining wilderness was included in formal reserves. Almost 1 million hectares of core wilderness was by then protected, most of it within Tasmania’s biggest and most famous World Heritage area: the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area. The fact that most of Tasmania’s remaining wilderness received protection after 1970 is significant also because it is the result of a change in attitudes with regard to wilderness reservation in Australia (Mosley 1966). If wilderness was a residual argument for the creation of national parks and reserves for a long time, after 1970 the explicit aim of wilderness protection became a predominant theme of reservation. This process culminated namely in Tasmania, where wilderness represented the most important and consistent leitmotif of conservation battles and where there emerged a clear, explicit and strategic synergy between two key concepts: wilderness on one hand, and World Heritage values on the other. Such link was strongest during the fight for the preservation of the Franklin River from hydroelectric developments. In that occasion, World Heritage images and wilderness mythology were associated and resulted in the biggest success in the conservation history of Australia. The success of the campaign against the Franklin Dam had also repercussions on the chances of the environmental movement to influence wilderness legislation on the country. Whitehouse (1994) reports that following the triumph in South-West Tasmania, the Wilderness Society stepped up its lobbying efforts in Sydney and New South Wales for an

advancement of the wilderness preservation agenda. This resulted in the creation of a Wilderness Working Group on 1985, with the task of making recommendation to the Government on the future of wilderness legislation and policy. In 1987, the New South Wales Wilderness Act was approved. The address of the then Minister for Planning and Environment, Mr Bob Carr, to the Legislative Assembly is symbolic of the changed perception of wilderness and the status that it acquired over the years and through the major environmental disputes such as the Tasmanian saga. As reported in Whitehouse (1994: 100): “Today I offer this Parliament, this community, a historic choice. Will we as a nation, on the eve of the 200t year of European settlement, continue to destroy, piece by piece, the great natural areas f this country? Will we continue to be unmoved by the fact that many of this nation’s plants and animals are threatened with oblivion? Or do we resolve that the very fiber of this continent should be treated with greater respect, that our much diminished wilderness should be protected, and that our country should earn a reputation for excellence in its approach to conservation? ...if we fail in the task now before us, if we do not accept the responsibility to protect some of what remains, then we must surely and rightly expect the condemnation of this and future generations. The matter of wilderness protection strikes at the heart of this conundrum because wilderness is the total and absolute embodiment of the Australian environment. Still in a largely natural state it offers no concession, no compromises. Unlike many of our fine national parks with their bitumen roads, camping grounds, amenities, walking tracks, recreational facilities an the like, wilderness stands as a stark reminder of what once was. It reminds us of the ancient life of this continent...our commitment to protecting our wilderness is a measure of our maturity as nation and pride in our identity”. The Wilderness Act of 1987 has three main goals: “to provide for the permanent protection of wilderness areas; to provide for the proper management of wilderness areas; to promote the education of the public in the appreciation, protection and management of wilderness” (Whitehouse 1994:103-104). Section 6 of the Act provides the criteria for the identification of wilderness areas. The main requirements are that the area “has not been substantially modified by humans and their works”; that it is of sufficient size to maintain its naturalness; that it can offer solitude and self-reliant recreation opportunities (Wilderness Act 1987, sec. 6). As evident from the criteria, wilderness is defined on the basis of its natural qualities but also on the value to people, who are recreational users of the resource.

In Victoria, following an investigation by the specially created Land Conservation Council in 1988, a National Parks (Amendment) Act (Victoria) 1989 was passed, while in 1992 a National Parks (Wilderness) Act was adopted, and wilderness obtained a framework similar to that introduced in New South Wales. South Australia adopted a Wilderness Protection Act in 1992, which gives wilderness areas and reserves a distinct identity. In the same year, Queensland passed the Queensland Nature Conservation Act, which identifies 14 types of protected areas, one of which is constituted by wilderness areas. Wilderness is also recognized in the Northern Territory and Western Australia as a special zone within National Parks. Wilderness is considered as a zone within a National Park also according to the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act (1975) adopted at the Federal level. In Tasmania, wilderness is, paradoxically, absent from the official legislation and left to administrative measures to identify and protect. On the other hand, the fact that most of Tasmania’s wilderness is included in the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, which has a comprehensive Management Plan (1999), ensures its protection and management standards.

The Wilderness Continuum: advocating wilderness protection as a management-focused Policy

On the conceptual level, the most relevant contribution of the Australian wilderness theorization is the notion of wilderness continuum (Lesslie and Taylor 1985). The notion arose from a reflection on the shortcomings of the previously devised mechanisms to conduct wilderness inventories in Australia. Such inventories (Helman et al 1976; Feller 1979; Kirkpatrick 1979; Russell et al. 1979) were deemed inadequate on several levels: their criteria for wilderness identification were considered too narrow, their applicability restricted to the mountainous and forested country of Eastern Australia, and their notion of wilderness too strictly adherent to an ideal absolute which was difficult to find on one hand, and which left out of the map most of the real Australian wilderness – this being the arid land of the interior rather that the forested mountains of New South Wales, Queensland, Victoria and Tasmania (Lesslie and Taylor 1985). “The use of a single fixed set of wilderness identification establishes a wilderness threshold which may only be applicable to a narrow range of environmental conditions. For example, the

wilderness identification criteria of Australian inventories conducted in the comparatively high rainfall environments of the Eastern States and Tasmania are inappropriate for the arid environments comprising most of the Australian continent. This is especially unfortunate if t is accepted that the quintessential Australian wilderness is a range of barren hills rising from an arid sea of dune fields, sand plains, gibber, and salt flats” (Lesslie and Taylor 1985: 314). The solution advocated by the authors is to consider wilderness in relative terms, rather than as an absolute concept. Wilderness, this mean, is referred to the quality of primitiveness and remoteness of lands, in a continuum that goes from totally undeveloped and remote lands at one end to settled land at the other end. Wilderness quality varies from very high to nil, with different shades of wilderness quality in between. Still, for practical reasons, the authors concede that some thresholds must be applied in order to calculate the wilderness quality of a geographical area, but in their view such limitation – which would consider only lands with high wilderness quality – does not invalidate the continuum concept, because the key contribution of it is the notion that wilderness is regarded in a relative rather than in an absolute manner. The wilderness continuum concept was tested with an inventory of wilderness in South Australia. Its novelty consists in the use of the notion itself, and in its application to a range of lands that had previously been left out of the classic inventories conducted in the 1970’ in the Eastern States and Tasmania, which focused n mountainous and forested country. The definition applied to the South Australian inventory regards wilderness as “any undeveloped land which is relatively remote from, and relatively undisturbed by, the presence and influence of settled people” (Lesslie and Taylor 1985). Because of the complexity of the qualities of remoteness and primitiveness, further specifications of the criteria were introduced. According to them, the following subdivision was devised for the criterion of remoteness (Lesslie and Taylor 1985: 318): - remoteness from access: remoteness from constructed vehicular access routes (roads or railways) or points (airstrips). Roads were distinguished from vehicular tracks formed and maintained solely by the occasional passage of vehicles. Such tracks were treated as a form of aesthetic disturbance; - remoteness from settlement: remoteness from points of permanent human occupation (for arid environments) or from settled land for semi-arid and moderate rainfall environments).

As for primitiveness, the notion was split between the anthropocentric and the bio-centric dimensions: - Aesthetic primitiveness: the wilderness attribute compromised by aesthetic disturbance of otherwise natural settings due to evidence of a permanent human presence in the landscape. This evidence includes vehicular tracks and permanent structures such as bores, dam, stock yards, pumps, fence lines, shelter hubs, pipe lines, lighthouses, research stations, ruins, disused mines, telegraph and power lines etc. - Biophysical Primitiveness: The wilderness attribute compromised by biophysical disturbance of natural ecosystems due to the influence of settled people. The fact that the South Australian wilderness resource consisted of semi-arid and arid lands required a new method to provide measurement of remoteness and primitiveness. Aesthetic remoteness was calculated by travel-time-distance length, while primitiveness was calculated by the amount if aesthetic disturbance per square unit of wilderness travel time-distance. The reflection underpinning such measurement was that travel times depend on two factors: the terrain and vegetation – which differ if one considers mountainous and forested country rather than deserts and semi-arid environments – and the preferred mode of travel – in this case, mainly bushwalking and four-wheel-drive. As for biophysical primitiveness, the level of disturbance of native vegetation was chosen as indicator of the overall level of biophysical disturbance. Such disturbance was mapped by Laut et al (1977), and it identified four types of disturbance to naïve vegetation (Lesslie et al. 1985: 320): - Undisturbed natural: native vegetation in its natural state - Disturbed Natural: native vegetation used for low intensity timber harvesting, pastoralism etc, but original composition and structure basically intact and likely to recover in a short period should disturbance cease; - Degraded natural: native vegetation intensely used, but no direct or deliberate attempt to create a human-induced vegetation: basic structure altered and unlikely to recover over a short period, if at all, should disturbance cease; - Cultural: native vegetation largely or completely replaced by a human-induced vegetation. Three wilderness quality levels resulted from these combined criteria: very high, moderate high, and high, with several subclasses showing for each broader wilderness quality class the different

combinations of indicators. The implications of the wilderness continuum concept go beyond the mere search for flexible criteria for wilderness. The aim of the notion is to provide policy makers with a tool to evaluate the type of wilderness protection that is best suited to Australian wilderness. The wilderness continuum concept acknowledges that it is impossible to determine a fixed set of criteria for wilderness identification, because wilderness is a relative concept rather than absolute one. Consequently, rather than legislating wilderness preservation along the lines of the US wilderness preservation system, according to the authors the protection of wilderness should focus on the management of it. Australian wilderness legislation often recognizes wilderness as a management category rather than as an official and separate reservation category. And a management-oriented wilderness policy, which considers wilderness as a varying quality of undeveloped lands, is more effective than a traditional reservation of portions of territory identified as absolute wilderness. The concept of wilderness continuum has served as the basis for the creation of the National Wilderness Inventory Handbook (Lesslie et al. 1993). It measures the variations of wilderness quality according to four indicators, two for each of the key attributes of wilderness: remoteness and naturalness. Wilderness quality is the extent to which a site is remote from and undisturbed by the influence of modern technological society. The four indicators are remoteness from settlement, remoteness from access, apparent naturalness and biophysical naturalness. The map of Tasmania’s wilderness quality (Fig. 1) is based on the parameters of the National Wilderness Inventory:

Fig.1: Wilderness Quality in Tasmania, Parks and Wildlife Service 2004.

Wilderness as a global conservation paradigm: IUCN and categories of protected areas

The key feature of the role of wilderness in the global system of protected areas is ambiguity. The elements of this ambiguity are the fact that wilderness isn’t a category of land use recognized by all countries; the uncertain definition of the term and the vague criteria set out for its identification; the variability of perception with regard to what wilderness value really are, and the historical bias that is attached to the concept; the fact that de-facto wilderness often does not correspond to legislated wilderness; and finally the lack of a “common language” (Bishop et al, 2004) with regard to the definition of a protected area. These are the reasons of the undefined role of wilderness as a conservation paradigm. A clear indication of the confusion that still surrounds the role of wilderness can be grasped in the analysis of the meaning and scope of protected areas according to IUCN (2008). The first scope that is indicated is biodiversity conservation. Despite the importance of certain wilderness area for biodiversity conservation, the concept of biological diversity is much more recent than that of wilderness (Wilson 1992) and biodiversity has never been clearly stated among the values of wilderness. It can be an incidentally important contribution of wilderness, but not its primary scope. The other goals of protected areas that the IUCN promote have several of the attributes of wilderness. Protected areas are necessary “to maintain functioning natural ecosystems; to act as refuges for species and to maintain ecological processes that cannot survive in most intensely managed landscapes and seascapes; to act as benchmarks against which we understand human interactions with the natural world”. As previously analyzed, the idea of wilderness areas as “benchmarks” of natural, healthy ecosystems has been present in wilderness theory since the times of Aldo Leopold, as well as the bio-centric values of wilderness such as maintaining ecological processes and intact ecosystems. In this respect, wilderness areas should be seen as the category of protected areas which embodies some of the most important functions of conservation. This is also confirmed by the following statement: “Larger and more natural protected areas also provide space for evolution and future ecological adaptation and restoration, both increasingly important under conditions of rapid climate change” (IUCN 2008: 2). The largest of protected areas are traditionally wilderness areas, where size is considered as one of the tenets of identification; while naturalness is also one of the key features that every definition of wilderness implies. The

IUCN also recognizes the “cultural” dimension of protected areas though the mention of the iconic character of some of them – a role that wilderness areas have played for example in the North American context: “Protecting iconic landscapes and seascapes is seen as being important from a wider cultural perspective as well, and flagship protected areas are as important to a country’s heritage as, for example, famous buildings such as Notre Dame Cathedral or the Taj Mahal, or national football teams or work of arts” (IUCN 2008: 2). This passage highlights the recurring theme of the iconic value of certain natural areas, which has historically often been associated to spectacular wilderness areas and, later on, to places of World Heritage value. The American wilderness movement, as already highlighted, has been the first to express the importance of iconic wilderness as a tool of national identity and pride (Nash 1982). Within the global system of environmental governance, a crucial role is played by the World Commission on Protected Areas (WCPA), which inherited from previous similar institutions the responsibility for coordinating the international policy on protected areas. Created in the frame of the IUCN in 1962 with the name Commission on National Parks and Protected Areas (CNPPA), it endeavored a major task: clarifying the terminology referred to protected areas in use in the different countries at the national level, and thus providing nations with a clear reference and benchmark against which to plan and assess protected area policy an denomination (IUCN 2008). The impetuous growth of protected areas in the 20th century proved to be both an opportunity and a great challenge. As IUCN reports, the size of land reserved for conservation worldwide grew over the last four decades “from an area the size of the United Kingdom to an area the size of South America” (IUCN 2008: 2). Protected areas vary enormously in size, scope, land tenure and use and terminology. IUCN specialists and scientists drafted a first classification of protected areas terminology in 1978. The categories were later criticized for their lack of clarity, and another review was carried out, which resulted in the new guidelines, published in 1994 (IUCN 1994). With regard to the wilderness category of protected areas, the history of the protected areas classification confirms the ambiguity. The term does not appear at all among the ten categories indicated in the study of 1978 (IUCN 1978). Such categories were divided into three groups (IUCN 2008: 4):

Group A: Categories for which CNPPA will take special responsibility: I. Scientific reserve II. National Park III. Natural Monument/national landmark IV. Nature conservation reserve V. Protected landscape Group B: Other categories of importance to IUCN, but not exclusively in the scope of CNPPA: VI. Resource reserve VII. Anthropological reserve Group C: Categories that are part of international programs: VIII. Biosphere reserves IX. World Heritage site (natural) The absence of wilderness obviously doesn’t imply that the category or the type of reserve which satisfies the wilderness criteria didn’t exist globally. Rather, de-facto wilderness was the concept retained by the international community, with wilderness areas existing within protected areas at large without an official recognition in the legislation or terminology. The review of the protected areas classification, initiated by the CNPPA in 1984, produced new guidelines which define protected areas according to their scope and management objectives, which responds to few key principles: that the system is international, that it is acknowledged that terminology at the national level will probably not reflect these guidelines faithfully, and that the classification system is based on a gradation of human intervention in the protected area. Wilderness has now been included as an official conservation category in the new guidelines published in 1994, as a subcategory of the first type of protected areas identified (IUCN 1994): I. Strict protection [Ia) Strict nature reserve and Ib) Wilderness area] II. Ecosystem conservation and protection (i.e., national park) III. Conservation of natural features (i.e, Natural Monument) IV. Conservation though active management (i.e, Habitat/species management area) V. Landscape/seascape conservation and recreation (i.e, Protected Landscape/seascape) VI. Sustainable use of natural resources (i.e., Managed resource protected area)

IUCN (1994) further clarifies that Category Ib (Wilderness areas) are “usually large unmodified or slightly modified areas, retaining their natural character and influence, without permanent or significant human habitation, which are protected and managed so as to preserve their natural condition”. The definition of wilderness adopted internationally through the IUCN classification of protected areas reflects the most classic criteria to identify wilderness: size, naturalness, lack of human disturbance and settlement, with the management goal of preserving the naturalness. There is no mention of remoteness, or specification of criteria with regard to mechanized access. The definition retains the most general and flexible approach to wilderness identification. The anthropocentric value of wilderness – particularly the wilderness experience – is also taken into consideration when IUCN clarifies the objective of such a category of reservation: “To protect the long-term ecological integrity of natural areas that are undisturbed by significant human activity, free of modern infrastructure and where natural forces and processes predominate, so that current and future generations have the opportunity to experience such areas”. The last passage is crucial, because the experiential value of wilderness is explicitly mentioned as a goal of the wilderness type of protected area. This balances the predominantly bio-centric view of wilderness, with a crucial element of its anthropocentric value. The problem with wilderness, however, hasn’t been solved by its inclusion as an official global category of conservation. As already mentioned, one of the assumptions at the base of the IUCN classification is that considerable discrepancy with the national terminology persists. Countries that do not recognize wilderness as a legislative category of conservation will have de-facto wilderness within other denominations, such as national parks. One clear example of this confusion is namely Tasmania. As previously mentioned, the State doesn’t have wilderness as an official land reservation category. Nonetheless, according to the Management Plan of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, a great portion of the latter is zoned as wilderness for management purposes (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999). The official denomination of the protected areas that compose the World Heritage site, though, is that of National Parks. Even the South-West region, which embodies the quintessential wilderness and which has become famous as a threatened wilderness region during the Franklin Dam dispute, is officially protected as a National Park and not a wilderness area. According to IUCN (2008), the difference between category Ib (wilderness areas) and category II (National Parks) is often very small indeed. It

refers mainly to the type of visitation that is allowed in the area. National parks and wilderness areas “are often similar in size and in their aim to protect functioning ecosystems”; in National Parks, visitation is normally included and “supporting infrastructure” may be provided, whereas in wilderness areas the type of allowed recreation – in line with the classical wilderness experience – is generally self-reliant and limited to “those with the skills and equipment to survive unaided” (IUCN 2008: 15).

Summary

Wilderness exists today as an official paradigm of conservation and as a management category both at the national level, and internationally through the classification of protected areas drafted by the IUCN. The ambiguity surrounding the notion hasn’t been eliminated by its inclusion among the categories of protected areas indicated by the World Commission on Protected Areas. This is due to the lack of a coherent, universal acceptance of wilderness, and by the fact that national denominations of protected areas vary enormously and often do not reflect the IUCN system of classification. Nonetheless, wilderness has a stronghold as a conservation paradigm in many parts of the world, and its clearest and strongest recognition occurs in countries which have adopted the model of wilderness protection that first appeared in the cradle of the contemporary wilderness movement: the United States. Such countries shared a similar historical and socio- economic legacy, being former British colonies and typical examples of settlers’ societies which came into contact with a vast continental wilderness. The pattern of development of the wilderness idea there has also shown many similarities – such as the notion of worthless lands, the role of tourism as a major drive for reservation, the myth of the wild frontier, the role of wilderness a an iconic “cultural” tool that shaped the national ethos and provided symbols of identity and pride, and the embedding of wilderness in the legislation concerning protected areas. In Australia with its peculiar characteristics deriving from the country’s unique environment and fauna, and from the pattern of colonization of the continent, wilderness has played a major role in shaping the conservation system and in fostering the creation of an environmental consciousness which has also become a powerful political force. The single most influential issue was the fierce environmental battle to save the Franklin River, in the wilderness frontier of

Western Tasmania, from hydro-electric development. The Franklin dispute was a landmark of the environmental history of Australia and brought the idea of wilderness at the forefront of the socio-political sphere both in Tasmania and in the country at large. It also sanctioned for the first time a powerful alliance between the wilderness idea and the World Heritage Convention, and highlighted the extraordinary compatibility of the two notions of wilderness and World Heritage values. It produced a dramatic shift in the constitutional balance of the country, with the legislation implementing the World Heritage Convention allowing the Federal Government to claim sovereignty over environmental affairs which historically had been one of the traditional spheres of exclusive State governance. This provided an example and a benchmark for subsequent wilderness battles around the country, with many of the regions involved ending up on the UNESCO World Heritage List. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area was born out of the most controversial wilderness preservation dispute in Australia’s history. Its importance is easy to grasp already in its name: the mighty alliance between two cultural notions of nature conservation – wilderness and World Heritage – which share a common origin, a similar vision of nature and its values, and the crucial element of the iconic and symbolic status, which represents their best asset and their mark of uniqueness. The affinity between the two concepts is analyzed in the following chapter.

CHAPTER IV

A genetic affinity: the wilderness idea and the “iconic” dimension of World Heritage

The cultural birthmark

The World Heritage Convention is the most “undefined” of all global systems of environmental governance. Every review of the effectiveness of the Convention, since its coming into force in 1975, has emphasized the difficulty to define the Convention univocally, its cultural imprint, and the vagueness and inadequacy of the principles on which the identification of World Heritage properties is conducted, namely the notion of Outstanding Universal Value (Titchen 1996; Pressouyre 1996; UNESCO 2003; Thorsell 2003; UNESCO 2007). Because of this uncertain identity, the Convention has never ceased to re-define its scopes and principles, demonstrating extraordinary resilience and adaptability. The reason for the uncertainty surrounding the true nature of the World Heritage Convention is due to the fact that its role as a technical, specialized conservation tool doesn’t entirely fit its original vocation - that of a culturally constructed, iconic “List” in which outstanding regions of the world are protected as heritage objects. It also derives from the peculiar history of the Convention. Such history lacked a proper scientific background or motive. It was propelled, instead, by a noble ideal: the post-war desire to rebuild a global community in which the collaboration for heritage preservation would contribute to the eradication of war and to the promotion of peace. On October 24, 1945 the Charter of the United Nations was agreed upon by fifty countries gathered in San Francisco. In the intention of the signatories, this represented the beginning of a new era, after the most devastating global conflict humanity had witnessed. The new world order would rest upon the ideal of peace and collaboration between nations. A few months later, in November 1946, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) was created in London, its Constitution mandating “the conservation and protection of the world’s inheritance of books, works of art and monuments of history and science” (UNESCO 1946). So tightly linked was the mission of the new institution to the experience of war and destruction, that this inescapable relation is expressed in the preamble to its

Constitution, when it affirms that “since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defenses of peace must be constructed” (UNESCO 1946). Education, science and culture were to become the pillars of the social engineering of future generations that would avoid history repeating itself. By acknowledging the universal loss caused by war, and by giving equal dignity to the different cultures of the world, the international community was laying the foundations of the concept of the common heritage of humanity (Baslar 1998). This shared heritage would be left for future generations, in an unbroken chain of cultural growth and enhanced human experience, and with no geographic, linguistic, ethnic, or cultural borders. A legacy for all humankind - local for birth, global in purpose and nature. Such legacy was made of more than just ideas, ideals, principles, laws and customs. It was made, first and foremost, of things. The visible, tangible witnesses to the cultural dimension of peoples and nations: monuments, artifacts, objects that men created and that people recognized as expressions of culture. It was in their fate in times of conflict, where invaluable pieces of art and architecture were irreparably damaged or destroyed, that the international community, with the UNESCO at its forefront, saw the cause for an effort of preservation of an innovative kind: an effort that would have to be global, because related to a heritage of universal value. The same idea of a legacy belonging to humanity as a whole, independently from its actual location and from which state had sovereignty on it, was a revolutionary principle and was to be translated into a creative, innovative approach to conservation. It is the background to the World Heritage Convention. The first occasion for testing how responsive the international community would be to such idea had arrived back in 1959, when the Egypt of Colonel Nasser contemplated the construction of a giant dam on the Nile, in the locality known as Aswan, for the production of hydro-electric power. The collateral damage would be the flooding of vast expanses of lands to become the artificial lake basin. But it was the quality of those lands slated for flooding that raised the elbows of the international community. For on the golden sands in the heart of ancient Nubia, in the 13th century BC one of the great, lost civilizations of the world had built the majestic Abu Simbel temples, a crucial part of the revered legacy of ancient Egypt. Lake Nasser, the manmade basin the Aswan dam was to create, threatened to swallow the temples, erasing an invaluable archaeological and historical treasure. The occasion was unique. Famous worldwide, the temples could themselves embody the idea of a “common heritage of humanity” to be preserved by

annihilation. The UNESCO didn’t fail to seize this chance to foster its mission, and it launched an international campaign aimed at rescuing the architectural complex from the flooding. The operation was massive. And successful. Between 1964 and 1968, the temples were dismantled, cut into blocks and relocated on safe grounds. International contributions helped fund the rescue, and the heritage of Abu Simbel wasn’t lost to the world. The media coverage of the operation demonstrated that the grounds for the idea of a common heritage of mankind, which the whole of humanity could perceive as universal and mobilize to preserve, appeared to be sound. In 1964, the “Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites”, known as the “Venice Charter” was adopted during the Second International Congress of Architects and Technicians of Historic Monuments. A milestone in the development of the intellectual backbone of cultural heritage preservation, it then gave birth to ICOMOS, which serves as the technical body of the World Heritage Convention for what concerns cultural heritage. In 1966 a second test for the concept of shared legacy of humanity confirmed the responsiveness of the international community to the idea. Another large-scale international operation was carried out, this time to come to the aid of a European treasure: the city of Florence. On the night between the 3 and the 4 of November 1966, the river Arno inundated the city, ravaging its invaluable monuments, art collections, libraries. Again the response of the international community and the echo the flooding had internationally, demonstrated the appeal the idea of a “common heritage” could have on the citizens of the world. Soon after, the UNESCO started to explore the possibility of establishing some kind of institutional structure that would have the mission to identify and protect the components of this global cultural legacy. The creation of a draft convention for the protection of the world’s cultural heritage became the goal of this process. The scope of the Convention would be to introduce an international regime that had its raison d’etre in that principle of common heritage of humanity, brought to a new height - the concept of World Heritage. A heritage that, because of its outstanding and universal value, is shared by all humanity, and must be the responsibility of the international community as a whole. At the Stockholm “Conference on the Human Environment”, in 1972, the various proposals for the creation of a convention addressing the issue of conservation of the common heritage of mankind were presented. Negotiations culminated in the signature of a text which soon after was adopted in Paris, at the General

Conference of UNESCO, in the same year. Only three years passed before the Convention came into force, after the required number of ratifications was attained in 1975.

Nature as World Heritage

Despite the fact that half the scope of the World Heritage Convention is the protection of natural heritage, such task only appeared on the agenda at a late stage. Only in 1965 nature had been recognized as a crucial dimension to be included in the concept of common legacy of humanity, and in the corresponding global conservation effort. At a conference hosted by the White House in Washington, the protection of cultural heritage was officially linked to that of nature. The “Committee for the Conservation and Development of Natural Resources” proposed the establishment of a “World Heritage Trust” which would link the protection of cultural heritage to that of natural heritage, by calling for the protection of the world’s “superb natural scenic areas and historic sites”. Behind the idea of World Heritage Trust was Russell Train, who believed that areas of outstanding value needed to belong to every man on Earth, irrespectively of the country in which the site was located (Nash 1982). This was the embryo of the notion of World Heritage, applied to nature. But behind this idea was a long, complex history: the history of Western conservationism. Its precise formulation had taken decades, since the idea of “international parks” had circulated at different times and in different ways at least since 1834, when Andrew Reed and James Natheson had stated that Niagara Falls, due to its magnificence, “does not belong to Canada or America. Such spots should be deemed the property of civilized mankind” (Nash 1982: 374). And indeed, when one looks at the Convention as a tool of global environmental governance, then it is on American soil that one must seek its roots, because the American tradition of conservation heralded by the wilderness idea influenced the vision of nature embraced by the Convention. The Western approach to conservation, initiated by the wilderness idea, through the historical process converged into the World Heritage Convention and its system of nature conservation. As analyzed in Chapter I, the contemporary wilderness idea is an American invention. In America the wilderness idea found its highest expression, and became an icon of nature conservation. It was born in the civilized American cities, at a time when the consumption of wilderness itself

had reached its peak and was transforming an abundant resource into an endangered domain. The closure of the American frontier signaled the opening of the wilderness preservation era. The transformation of wilderness from a philosophic category to a conservation paradigm culminated with the invention of the national park, officially in 1872 (Nash 1982). Yellowstone was both a much praised wilderness and the archetype of the national park model. Other milestones of conservation followed, such as Yosemite (1890), the passing of the National Park Service Act of 1910; and much later, the consecration of wilderness as a major conservation category with the passing of the Wilderness Act, in 1964. All these developments took place on American soil, and they reflected an idea of nature that was typically Western, imbued of religious, philosophical, spiritual and psychological elements that can be traced back to the pillars of Western civilization (Oelschlaeger 1991; Nash 1982; Stankey 1989). They paved the way to what became a global movement of nature conservation, heralded by the national park model which spread throughout the globe. Nash (1982) retraces the emergence of an international framework for nature conservation, and points out to its eminently American origin (Nash 1982). In parallel with the establishment of a system of nature protection in the United States, the country led the process of internationalization of such conquests, followed by European nations. It was Theodore Roosevelt, as far back as 1908, to host a conference at the White House which gave resonance to nature protection worldwide. The following year, a North American Conservation Conference was held, and its legacy was collected and expanded by a Swiss initiative in 1911. In that year, the International Conference for the Protection of Nature was convened in Basel, with 16 nations attending the event. World War I interrupted the effort aimed at creating a global framework of nature preservation, but it didn’t disrupt it entirely. In 1928 an International Office for the Protection of Nature was established in Brussels, under the impulse of P.G. Van Tienhoven. Nash (1982) identifies in the “London Conference for the Protection of African Fauna and Flora”, held in 1933 in London and attended by all colonial powers, the climax of this global process (Hayden 1942). The most salient feature of such conference, according to him, was the introduction of a less anthropocentric vision of nature conservation, with the proposal to declare strict nature reserves in which all human presence would be banned except for scientific purposes. Given the prominence that tourism and recreation had historically had in the drive for reservation and game protection this new approach was a real philosophical evolution.

After World War II, the newly established UNESCO took the lead also in the field of global nature conservation. A prominent role in this was played by the first Director-General of UNESCO: Julian Huxley. Huxley was a well-known evolutionary biologist, and an internationalist. On his initiative, in 1948 the embryo of what after 1956 became the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) was established. The international body had been born with a bias towards the Western perception of nature in which aesthetic consideration and appreciation were paramount as drives of conservation. It was the culmination of the typically Western conservation history which was deeply imbued with spiritual meaning, philosophy, and a mixture of scientific and recreation motives. Among the IUCN’s main tasks was the fight against species extinction and the diffusion of parks and reserves throughout the globe. It is in the same period that the World Wildlife Found (WWF) was created, with the specific aim of tackling extinction. Nash (1982) identifies the four main elements that represented the drive for conservation of both IUCN and WWF. One was evidently the economic benefits of tourism, deriving from setting aside protected areas. The other elements were the aesthetic qualities of protected areas, the ethical implications of conservation, and the scientific arguments backing the efforts to save the dwindling natural realm (Nash 1982). Such classification of the aims and roots of conservation, as exemplified in its leading institutions, is crucial to the understanding of the cultural and conceptual roots of the nature conservation regime put in place by the World Heritage Convention. Its main characteristic is the inheritance of the Western idea of nature and its motives to preserve it. This bias towards a Western approach to the environment is genetically inscribed in the Convention, and it is an issue with which the regime has been struggling since its coming into force. The Director-General of UNESCO, Julian Huxley, provides us with a highly symbolic reflection on the association between wildlife preservation, the international community and an idea of heritage that was acquiring the traits of what would be the idea of a common heritage of humanity, which represents the foundation of the World Heritage endeavor (Huxley 1961) It is symbolic in two ways. First because it explicitly links nature conservation with the general concept of heritage preservation, by drawing a parallel between the value of the African wildlife to the world, and the preservation of the irreplaceable treasures of cultural heritage. As Nash (1982) points out in his analysis of the thought of Huxley, in the view of the British scientist “to

destroy Africa’s wildlife would be comparable...to tearing down the Sistine Chapel or burning the Mona Lisa” (Nash 1982: 367). Secondly, the symbolism of Huxley’s thought derives from the association between Africa on one hand, and a British scientist on the other. Africa was the last frontier of wilderness, after a comparable amount of wild lands and wildlife had been wiped out of the American continent and of Europe before that. But it was a Westerner, a Briton, to advocate for the protection of the dwindling African natural wealth, because the appreciation of wilderness and nature had been born in the cities of Europe and North America, where the wilderness had been lost forever. In Huxley’s remarks one finds also the conceptual pillars of what would be the World Heritage regime. He points out to the prestige that for the post-colonial African nations would derive from possessing something that the rest of the world no longer has: outstanding wilderness and pristine lands, teaming with wildlife and protected for future generations. The system of protected areas of Africa would provide not only prestige but also currency, thanks to international tourism coming from developed countries which, to use an expression found in Nash (1982), had become net “importers” of wilderness. On the other hand, it would be shameful to destroy such heritage, and unforgivable in the eyes of the international community. Basically, in this mechanism of prestige and shame on finds an anticipation of the strongest tool at the disposal of the World Heritage Convention to enforce compliance on the part of State Parties. The push on the part of the developed world to ensure the preservation of nature in Africa was expressed also in 1961 at the Arusha Conference (Watterson 1963). The Arusha Manifesto, signed by the President of Tanganyka Nyerere, shows how African countries were open to the idea of conservation because they realized its advantage: the economic benefits of tourism. Then came the already mentioned idea of a World Natural Trust, and the official linkage of nature conservation to the notion of World Heritage. The connection between natural and cultural heritage was a milestone in the history of the World Heritage idea, as it recognized the deep relation between man and lands, societies and places, cultural creation and its natural context. After the first linkage between the cultural and the natural aspects of the common heritage was established, it was then reinforced and completed by the work of another international body, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN) - the umbrella organization which today regroups more than 1000 agencies concerned with nature conservation,

and which was created in 1948 by initiative of the UNESCO and the French Government – which started to develop a proposal of its own for the section of the future convention that would deal with the protection of natural heritage. The proposal formed the basis for the creation of the World Natural Heritage List, and since its inception, the Convention has relied on the IUCN as its advisory body for nature conservation.

The original wilderness legacy in the World Heritage Convention

As witnessed by the history of the natural heritage component of the Convention presented above, the notion of nature that converged into the World Heritage idea derived from Western conservationism. The founding principle of such tradition is wilderness. Wilderness, after all, has embodied all the grandest ideals of nature that Western – namely American – culture has produced. The myths surrounding American wilderness were imbued with notions of superlative beauty, scenic features, iconic value, and outstanding character. Wilderness icons inspired and drove conservation and their sponsors. This is the idea of natural heritage on which the Word Heritage idea is based. The original aspiration of the Convention was to protect the most iconic natural sites on Earth. The same notion of “World Heritage” is inextricably linked to a sense of grandeur, of uniqueness, which bears resemblance to the attributes of American wilderness. The relation between World Heritage and wilderness, though, is controversial and contradictory. On one hand, in the actual texts and principles of the Convention it is possible to identify several elements that clearly reflect a cultural link to the main traits of the wilderness idea. On the other hand, though, wilderness itself was never adopted explicitly as a criterion of World Heritage value. This creates a confusion that has never been resolved, because the World Heritage notion owes to the wilderness idea its essence and its philosophical view of nature, but the World Heritage conservation system does not recognize wilderness as a reservation criterion, and it has actually progressively abandoned the cultural link with the Western tradition embodied by wilderness to specialize and embrace contemporary, scientific conservation. The proof of the original, cultural connection between wilderness and World Heritage idea is scattered in the principles that found the Convention’s scope and essence. It emerges form the characteristics of the idea of Outstanding Universal Value; it is reflected in the importance

attributed to the notion of integrity for natural World Heritage areas; it is contained in management principles. It also appears clearly from the analysis of the “iconic” properties that have been inscribed in the World Heritage List over time, their relative importance and the progressive evolution of the List from an “iconic” to a “representative” heritage. The first element to be considered here in order to highlight the original cultural connection between wilderness and World Heritage is the definition and declination of the notion of Outstanding Universal Value, which defines and identifies sites of World Heritage character. The Outstanding Universal Value is the defining characteristic of what constitutes a World Heritage value. This notion has been highly controversial throughout the existence of the Convention (Titchen 1995, 1996). It is the clearest example of the artificial character of the idea of World Heritage, particularly when applied to nature conservation. Just like the wilderness idea, it is an eminently cultural construct. Its meaning has been redefined constantly, from the first vague definition contained in the original Convention text to the most recent reviews of the Operational Guidelines for the Implementation of the World Heritage Convention. The first idea of Outstanding Universal Value appeared within the official Convention in 1972. In its preamble is engraved its founding principle, that of a common heritage of humanity, together with the two main attributes of the World Heritage idea. The first is found in these few lines: “The deterioration or disappearance of any item of the cultural or natural heritage constitutes a harmful impoverishment of the heritage of all the nations of the world” (UNESCO 1972). These words refer to the main feature of World Heritage properties: universality. The first attribute of the World Heritage idea is the universal value of its message and of the items it protects. The other main feature of World Heritage properties is also highlighted in the preamble of the Convention, where it states that “parts of the cultural or natural heritage are of outstanding interest and therefore need to be preserved as par of the world heritage of mankind as a whole”. This is actually where the domain of the World Heritage convention is defined: the global heritage is vast, and it is all worth preserving; but not all of it fits in the idea of World Heritage as it is artificially elaborated by the Convention. Its target is just a part of this heritage, one that for its characteristics is perceived as outstanding. The best of the best. This is what can become part of the World Heritage system of protection - outstanding universal properties, that are part of a common heritage of humanity, but deserve a particular attention because of their

unique attributes. As mentioned above, the notion of Outstanding Universal Value has been interpreted in different ways and has been the issue of intense debate and modifications over the years. The first question is: what gives a property its outstanding and universal value? What defines what is outstanding and what is universal? These dilemmas have received a lot of attention in the literature, and have constituted a recurrent topic of reflection in the studies that the Convention itself has carried out periodically (Titchen 1995; Titchen 1996; Pressouyre 1996; UNESCO 2003; IUCN 2006; UNESCO 2007). The first answer to these questions can be found in the definition of “Outstanding Universal Value” that the original text of the Convention provides: “Outstanding Universal Value means cultural and/or natural significance which is so exceptional as to transcend national boundaries and to be of common importance for present and future generations of all humanity”. (UNESCO 1972). This definition indicates clearly the preference for sites of “iconic” value, given its emphasis on expressions such as “so exceptional” and “to transcend national boundaries” (Cameron 2005). If such emphasis is applied to the perception of nature, it is not hard to find echoes of the attributes of wilderness in the American tradition. The problem with this initial definition, though, is that it was hardly a definition at all. It was an inspirational statement, which could only be applied in very general and absolute terms, making the task of coherently identifying suitable properties a difficult one. It was also a very subjective criterion, and consequently one that was very difficult to be translated into operational guidelines. In order to provide a more detailed framework for the identification of World Heritage values, the Convention has then specified a number of criteria which reflect the notion of outstanding universal value. Given the double soul of the Convention – as a regime of conservation of cultural and natural heritage - it maintains the distinction between the two domains when it comes to the criteria by which to assess the World Heritage value of a property. According to the text of the Convention (UNESCO 1972, art 1), a cultural property can consist of: 1. monuments: architectural works, works of monumental sculpture and painting, elements or structures of an archaeological nature, inscriptions, cave dwellings and combinations of features, which are of outstanding universal value from the point of view of history, art or science;

2. groups of buildings: group of separate or connected buildings which, because of their architecture, their homogeneity or their place in the landscape, are of outstanding universal value from the point of view of history, art of science; 3. Sites: works of man or the combined works of nature and man, and areas including archaeological sites which are of outstanding universal value from the historical, aesthetic, ethnological or anthropological point of view.

While the criteria to identify natural World Heritage value are (UNESCO 1972, art 2): 1. Natural features consisting of physical and biological formations or groups of such formations which are of outstanding universal value from the aesthetic or scientific point of view; 2. geological and physiographical formations and precisely delineated areas which constitute the habitat of threatened species of animals and plants of outstanding universal value from the point of view of science or conservation; 3. Natural sites or precisely delineated natural areas of outstanding universal value from the point of view of science, conservation or natural beauty. These were still very general indications. They are interesting though, because of the combination of elements such as “beauty” and “scientific” values. To use the words of the wilderness tradition, the peculiar mix of anthropocentric and bio-centric values. Such indistinct definitions also highlight another interesting element: originally, the World Heritage idea lacked any scientific background. The rudimental use of ideas such as “naturalness” and the interaction within the natural realm – what would become the basis of notions such as ecosystem theory, complexity and resilience – reflects the fact that many of the concepts on which conservationism is founded today hadn’t appeared yet at the time the Convention was drafted. This is, basically, a cultural definition of what constitutes Outstanding Universal Value; as such, it has a lot in common with the cultural nature typical of the wilderness idea. More precise and better-defined criteria have subsequently been developed, in order to identify properties with World Heritage values. The “Operational Guidelines for the Implementation of the World Heritage Convention” contain the notions, rules and procedures that govern the Convention. This document has evolved over time and it has been modified on several occasions,

the last being in 2008. The constant update witnesses the complexity of the issue of identity for the Convention and its principles. The Operational Guidelines (2008) identify ten criteria, of which six apply to cultural properties and four to natural ones. These criteria mark an evolution that has gone through stages during the three decades of implementation of the Convention. For natural criteria, the evolution of the Operational Guidelines clearly shows the adaptive nature of the Convention, which has absorbed the new trends in conservation theories, its new paradigms, and has become a more specialized and scientific instrument of conservation. Section II.D of the Operational Guidelines (2008) specifies the criteria for the interpretation of outstanding universal value. Cultural properties possess Outstanding Universal Value when they: i. represent a masterpiece of human creative genius ii. exhibit an important interchange of human values, over a span of time or within a cultural area of the world, on developments in architecture or technology, monumental arts, town planning or landscape design; iii. bear a unique or at least exceptional testimony to a cultural tradition or to a civilization which is living or which has disappeared; iv. be an outstanding example of a type of building, architectural or technological ensemble or landscape which illustrates (a) significant stage(s) in human history; v. be an outstanding example of a traditional human settlement, land-use, or sea-use which is representative of a culture (or cultures), or human interaction with the environment especially when it has become vulnerable under the impact of irreversible change; vi. be directly or tangibly associated with events or living traditions, with ideas, or with beliefs, with artistic and literary works of outstanding universal significance.

Natural areas are of outstanding universal value on the basis of the following four criteria, according to which properties: vii. contain superlative natural phenomena or areas of exceptional natural beauty and aesthetic importance; viii. are outstanding examples representing major stages of earth's history, including the record of life, significant on-going geological processes in the development of landforms, or significant geomorphic or physiographic features;

ix. are outstanding examples representing significant on-going ecological and biological processes in the evolution and development of terrestrial, fresh water, coastal and marine ecosystems and communities of plants and animals; x. contain the most important and significant natural habitats for in-situ conservation of biological diversity, including those containing threatened species of outstanding universal value from the point of view of science or conservation. Today the cultural and natural criteria mentioned above constitute a single list of ten criteria. In the early stages of the life of the Convention, they were strictly separated in the categories of natural and cultural. Only in 2003 the original proposal made in 1996 to unify the criteria was adopted, with the aim of implementing an idea of integrated heritage, a holistic approach to heritage preservation (UNESCO 2007). These four last criteria - referred to natural areas - can be summarized by the attribute they suggest: aesthetic value, geological value, biological value, and biodiversity. Here are represented notions such as biodiversity and ecosystems, which have re-shaped conservation theory and practice. Nonetheless, such advanced scientific approaches to conservation still coexist with the original “anthropocentric” value of nature: beauty, grandness. The aesthetic value of nature has been retained by the Convention, although it appears subdued among the prevalence of more technical criteria to identify World heritage properties. This reflects and symbolizes the evolution of the Convention over its three decades of implementation. From its beginnings as a cultural construct based on a Western idea of nature, which had a philosophical and conceptual link with the wilderness idea, it has redefined its object, by embedding new paradigms such as ecosystem theory, biodiversity, and resilience. By doing so, it has transformed itself. It has progressively abandoned its “iconic” dimension in favor of the “representative” principle. It has downplayed the original wilderness imprint, in favor of the contemporary scientific conservationism. But this very process testifies the debt the Convention has with the original wilderness idea, and the fact hat its main issue has been, over the years, to detach itself from representing a cultural idea of nature and to embrace a more universal, less philosophic, less ethnocentric and more technical view of it. The question is whether this evolution has been entirely positive, or whether it has somehow betrayed the original vocation of the Convention. In particular, as it will be analyzed, the

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question is whether the new paradigms are better suited to the spirit and nature of the Convention. Or if wilderness, which has been progressively forgotten and abandoned and doesn’t figure in the criteria to identify outstanding universal value, can still play a role and has still something to offer to the World Heritage ideal.

The criterion of integrity: the wilderness embedded

In addition to the similar mix of anthropocentric and bio-centric values that define both wilderness and Outstanding Universal Value, there are more hints in the Convention texts of the original, cultural link between World Heritage and wilderness tradition. A crucial criterion for the identification of World Heritage values in natural property is that of integrity. It is a criterion which is clearly and directly connected to the notion of iconic value and uniqueness. It is also a criterion with a deep and evident link to the wilderness idea. The Operational Guidelines (2008) define the concept of “integrity” (section II.E): “Integrity is a measure of the wholeness and intactness of the natural...heritage and its attributes”. This definition is a clear reference to attributes that historically were attached to wilderness: naturalness, intactness. A nature that is not modified by humans, “untrammeled” to echo the wording of the US Wilderness Act (1964). The Convention goes further in defining what it means by “integrity” of potential World Heritage areas, by tailoring the notion to each one of the criteria which define outstanding universal value. It starts with an explanation of what “integrity” refers to (section II.E, 88):“Examining the conditions of integrity, therefore requires assessing the extent to which the property: A) includes all elements necessary to express its outstanding universal value; B) is of adequate size to ensure the complete representation of the features and processes which convey the property’s significance; C) suffers from adverse effects of development and/or neglect.” Again, this definition recalls the elements that traditionally identified wilderness, as a virtually intact, untamed natural world that has escaped the destruction or the alteration brought about by the contact with humans and civilization, and is worth preserving because of its pristine state. The mention of size also recalls one of the tenets of wilderness identification. The notion of

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intact nature mirrors the core idea of wilderness. The way the notion of integrity is further laid down in the Operational Guidelines (2008, section II.E, 91-94) reinforces, if anything, the connection with the founding principle of wilderness. The criterion of integrity is applied and adapted to each one of the criteria vii-x which define natural heritage. - For criterion vii, which defines World Heritage value according to aesthetic qualities, it states that “properties proposed under criterion (vii) should be of outstanding universal value and include areas that are essential for maintaining the beauty of the property”. Beauty and aesthetic considerations were paramount in the emergence of the Romantic wilderness and in the enduring strength of the wilderness idea, as a source of inspiration, spiritual rejuvenation; and in the American case, also national pride to rival the monument and cultural treasures of old Europe (Nash 1982). Aesthetic values are among the most prominent features of those sites that are considered “iconic” and that matched the requirements for “the best of the best”, to which the early Convention was more inclined to. - “Properties proposed under criterion (viii) should contain all or most of the key interrelated and interdependent elements in their natural relationship”. Again, this refers to the “biological” integrity of a natural area. Integrity means intactness, and it echoes the attribute of ‘naturalness” that is one of the cornerstones of the identification of wilderness. - “Properties proposed under criterion (ix) should have sufficient size and contain the necessary elements to demonstrate the key aspects of processes that are essential for the long term conservation of the ecosystems and the biological diversity they contain”. In the wilderness tradition, size matters. The idea of wilderness depended on areas large enough to be perceived as whole and untouched. Size satisfied both the psychological, anthropocentric aspects of the wilderness – the awe at the grandness of the landscapes, the possibility to find solitude and escape civilization, the recreational values of the wilderness experience – as well as the ecologic, eco-centric aspects of the notion – the unchanged functioning of nature by its own laws, undisturbed by man and unmodified. In legislations that define wilderness as a conservation category, size is normally an explicit criterion that potential wilderness areas must satisfy. This goes from the mention of a “sufficient size” in the definition of wilderness as a conservation category for the IUCN (2008) and in that codified by the New South Wales Wilderness Act (1974), to the “at least 5000 acres” in size demanded by the US Wilderness Act (1964), to the

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“20000 ha” of minimum core area mandated in the definition prepared by Helman et al (1976) for the Australian context. - “Properties proposed under criterion (x) should be the most important properties for the conservation of biological diversity. Only those properties which are the most biologically diverse and/or representative are likely to meet this criterion. Properties should contain habitats for maintaining the most diverse fauna and flora characteristics of the bio-geographic province and ecosystems under consideration”(UNESCO 2008). This particular criterion derived from the evolution of conservation theory and the emergence of the notion of biodiversity. Biological diversity, at the time when most of the wilderness science developed, didn’t exist as a scientific category. Despite the consequent absent of a direct link between biodiversity as a coherent conservation principle and wilderness, the conservation of most of the diversity of flora and fauna within a protected area was implicit in the demand for the naturalness of wilderness regions. The successive discoveries and progress of ecology only added clarity and focus to the understanding of biological diversity, but the core idea of an ecosystem which functions unaltered and preserves the richness of life within it was certainly contained in the perception of wilderness as a unique type of natural domain. This relation between the notion of integrity as a requirement for potential World Heritage sites and the wilderness idea has been the issue of recurring debates among the scholars of the Convention, and it has been seen as one of the obstacles to an expansion of the domain of the Convention, and to the fulfillment of its universalistic aspiration. For example, Pressouyre (1996) finds that the idea of integrity is the source of one of the most enduring difficulties the Convention has encountered since it came into effect, which derives from the adoption of a vision of nature that is typically European, influenced by Romanticism, and opposed to any “humanization” of nature. The author notices that such a notion was enshrined in this criterion in the early 1970’s by “a group of scientist concerned with designating a series of natural zones where the greatest number of geological, climatic and biological characteristics would be preserved from all human endeavor destructive of ecological balance: creation of routes or other transportation networks, deforestation and agriculture, hunting or herding, and of course, mining and industry” (Pressouyre 1996). The author concludes that the criterion of integrity is biased towards the protection of vast areas that only large and rich countries can afford, and that

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this idea of intact nature becomes highly problematic in instances in which local populations live in protected areas and have considerable impact on them, as is the case in many developing countries and in several traditional and indigenous societies. The degree to which wilderness is the reference for this criterion hasn’t escaped the successive attention of the Convention. It is assumed by the Operational Guidelines in the section that deals with the requirement of integrity. When applying the concept of integrity to the natural heritage, the Operational Guidelines (2008, section II.E, 90) explain that “for all properties nominated under criteria (vii) – (x), biophysical processes and landform features should be relatively intact. However, it is recognized that no area is totally pristine and that all natural areas are in a dynamic state, and to some extent involve contact with people. Human activities, including those of traditional societies and local communities, often occur in natural areas. These activities may be consistent with the outstanding universal value of the area where they are ecologically sustainable”. This passage contains a crucial statement which points out, again, to an evolution of the World Heritage Convention, a departure from the idea of pure wilderness to a more contemporary notion of sustainability. One finds here once again the conflict between the original idea of iconic nature to the aspiration of a modern, scientific and credible conservation system with global aspirations. It contains the acknowledgment that there is more myth than reality in the idea of pure wilderness, and that the new frontier of conservation must come to terms with the inevitable contact and interaction between the human and the natural spheres. “Sustainability” has replaced wilderness as the new paradigm, and the World Heritage Convention – so strongly linked, in its philosophical roots, to the “National Park” idea and its underlying wilderness ideology - demonstrates with this evolution the acknowledgement of its origin, and the resolve to address the issue of conservation with modern analytical and scientific approaches. Sustainability in the framework of the Convention also means ‘sustainable use’. This is explicitly acknowledged by the Operational Guidelines (section II.F, 119): “World Heritage properties may support a variety of ongoing and proposed uses that are ecologically and culturally sustainable. The State Party and partners must ensure that such sustainable use does not adversely impact the outstanding universal value, integrity and/or authenticity of the property. Furthermore, any uses should be ecologically and culturally sustainable. For some properties, human use would not be appropriate”. Significantly, this paragraph concludes that

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“use” is not always compatible with World Heritage value. This leaves the door open to both aspects of the wilderness idea: the human use of wilderness for a variety of benefits, but also the strict protection that core wilderness is granted in legislation worldwide, and which can sometimes preclude any use at all. In general, human interaction with World Heritage areas goes from recreational use to permanent settlement. A paper published in 1998 addresses namely the issue of human presence within World Heritage areas and of the uses of areas protected within the Convention. World Heritage properties not only are open to a variety of human uses, but often contain resident population, in variable numbers that range from a few individuals to the tens of thousands (Thorsell and Sigaty 1998). This paper is interesting also because it contains a first assessment of tourism in World Heritage properties. According to its data, which take into account 116 natural sites, the total visitation was 63 million people per year. Only 15 properties recorded over 1 million visits per year, and 8 of them were located in the United States. The most interesting data, though, is probably the fact that World Heritage visitation in the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand accounted for 84% of the world total, numbering over 52 M a year. This can be interpreted in two different ways. One is the obvious fact that the above mentioned countries are better geared for tourism, have the needed infrastructure and a population base that explains the high numbers. After all, the study doesn’t distinguish between recreation – intended as visitation by locals or national tourists – and tourism – intended as international visitation. Another perspective on the raw data, though, takes us back to the point of the Convention’s background. The countries above are also four out of five countries in the world that recognize wilderness as a valid nature conservation paradigm. They are the nations in which the wilderness idea has emerged and thrived. Their World Heritage properties rate among the most iconic and scenically beautiful in the world, all attributes that recall the wilderness notion. The fact that tourism in World Heritage sites is strongest in places which offer iconic sites, most of which contain criterion vii – aesthetic beauty – as a reason for inscription, and many of which have been identified historically with wilderness battles and the wilderness brand, is indicative of a natural “match” between wilderness as a criterion for World Heritage reservation and the success and appeal of World Heritage areas as desirable tourism destinations. Furthermore, this is reinforced by the fact that tourism and recreation have always been tightly

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linked to the wilderness idea and have been among the most powerful drives for the preservation of wilderness and the creation of early national parks. Another reflection regarding the notion of sustainability mitigating the criterion of integrity and its wilderness underpinning is that the same tension between the two notions characterizes not only the evolution of the World Heritage Convention, but that of the wilderness idea itself. As already recalled, many scholars have highlighted the fact that wilderness doesn’t mean pristine or untouched, that it is not an absolute concept as it seemed to be at the dawn of its use; there is rather a “continuum” between human landscapes and wilderness (Lesslie and Taylor 1985), and wilderness scientists and supporters have long ago acknowledged that there exists a more flexible interpretation of the “pristine” element in the wilderness identification. Wilderness science has come to term with the realization that the effects of civilization and human encroachment on the environment have left little, if any, “pure” wilderness. But it has also highlighted that the idea of wilderness still represents the best of what is left. This makes the reference to sustainability in the Operational Guidelines compatible with an ongoing relation to the wilderness concept. The Operational Guidelines mandate two more conditions that must be fulfilled in order for the nomination of a property to be accepted by the World Heritage Committee and inscribed on the World Heritage List. These are the criteria of protection and management (Operational Guidelines 2008, section II.F, 96-118). It must be noted that managing the wilderness is not the oxymoron it seems to be. Scholars have long recognized the need for wilderness areas to be “managed” by humans in order for them to retain their unique features (Cole and Hammitt 2000; Starling 1980). The requirement for comprehensive management plans to operate in World Heritage areas is consequently not at odds with the possible wilderness nature of the site. The Convention’s principle is that it is not enough for a property to possess outstanding universal value, in order for it to be inscribed on the World Heritage List. Given that the goal of the Convention is the ultimate protection of the site, and that the duty and obligation of preserving it belong to the State, the submission of a candidature by the latter must show proof of a protection system already in place, both at the legislative level, and at the management level. This will be an assurance that the outstanding and universal value of the property will be maintained, or enhanced, in the future. As a general indication, these criteria require an adequate “legislative,

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regulatory, institutional and/or traditional protection and management” (UNESCO 2008). The legal protection of the property must not just be ink on the paper: it must be concretely and effectively implemented. Another requirement for these criteria to be met is the delineation of boundaries (UNESCO 2008). This is a particularly sensitive issue for the natural World Heritage. While the general principle is that boundaries must be drawn in a way that ensures “the full expression of the outstanding universal value and the integrity and/or authenticity of the property”, its importance especially in the natural area is stressed by the addition of further provisions to be applied to the criteria defining the natural World Heritage. As stated in the Operational Guidelines, “for properties nominated under criteria (vii)-(x), boundaries should reflect the spatial requirements of habitat, species, processes or phenomena that provide the basis for their inscription on the World Heritage List…should include sufficient areas immediately adjacent to the area of outstanding universal value in order to protect the property’s heritage values from direct effect of human encroachments and impacts of resource use outside the nominated area”. To this end, the inclusion of buffer zones is required. Buffer zones themselves become, after the nomination of the property and its inscription on the World Heritage List, part of the protected area, so much so that any modification to them must subsequently be approved by the World Heritage Committee. The mention of protection from human encroachment echoes one of the long-lasting themes of wilderness zoning and reservation: the protection of the areas’ primitive status and of its naturalness, as opposed to environments modified by human encroachment and impacts.

The departure from the wilderness idea

The above-mentioned contradictory nature of the relation between wilderness and World Heritage derives from the fact that despite the clear cultural and philosophical connection, wilderness has never been included as an official criterion for World Heritage value. The role of wilderness has remained an underlying conceptual legacy, which in the first years of the Convention exerted a powerful influence over its life, and then was gradually replaced with a more scientific, technical approach to conservation. As Cameron (2005) points out, the very first version of the World Heritage Convention focused on the notion of protection of “the best of the

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best”. In other words, the original imprint of the Convention was that of an “iconic” List, which aimed at protecting those cultural and natural sites which were perceived as unique. The iconic value of a site was its ticket to the World Heritage List. Because of this, Cameron (2005) recalls that in the first 5 years of existence of the World Heritage List, up to 30% of the sites that were inscribed were “iconic”. In other words, the best examples of the natural heritage of the world made it into the List at the early stage of the Convention’s life. The interesting fact here is that such 30% of “iconic” sites inscribed in the List in the first 5 years of its existence, is mostly represented by wilderness areas. Here is a summary of the sites that have been inscribed in the World Heritage List over the first five years, and the percentage of wilderness areas among them: 1978

- Galápagos Islands (Ecuador)

- Nahanni National Park (Canada)

- Simien National Park (Ethiopia)

- Yellowstone National Park (United States of America)

1979

- Belovezhskaya Pushcha / Białowieża Forest (Belarus)

- Dinosaur Provincial Park (Canada)

- Everglades National Park (United States of America)

- Grand Canyon National Park (United States of America)

- Kluane / Wrangell-St Elias / Glacier Bay / Tatshenshini-Alsek (Canada)

- Ngorongoro Conservation Area (Tanzan)

- Sagarmatha National Park (Nepal)

- Virunga National Park (Democratic Republic of the Congo)

1980

- Durmitor National Park (Montenegro) 108

- Garamba National Park (Democratic Republic of the Congo)

- Ichkeul National Park (Tunisia)

- Kahuzi-Biega National Park (Democratic Republic of the Congo)

- Redwood National Park (United States of America)

1981

- Darien National Park (Panama)

- Djoudj National Bird Sanctuary (Senegal)

- Great Barrier Reef (Australia)

- Los Glaciares (Argentina)

- Mammoth Cave National Park (United States of America)

- Mount Nimba Strict Nature Reserve (Côte d'Ivoire)

- Niokolo-Koba National Park (Senegal)

- Olympic National Park (United States of America)

- Serengeti National Park (Tanzania, United Republic of )

1982 - Tassili n’Ajjer (Algeria) - Lord Howe Island (Australia) - Tasmanian Wilderness (Australia) - Tai National Park (Cote D’Ivoire) - Rio Platano Biosphere Reserve (Honduras) - Aldabra Atoll (Seychelles) - Selous Gam Reserve (Tanzania)

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If one sticks to the strictest definition of wilderness, among these 32 regions at least 9 are classic wilderness areas. They include icons such as Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, the Tasmanian Wilderness, and several portions of famous Canadian wilderness. This proportion alone corresponds to almost 30% of the properties inscribed in the List, and many of the icons of global conservation belong to this group. If more flexible definitions of wilderness are taken into account, then several more areas among the ones mentioned above fall into this category - such as the big African parks, located in some of the remaining high biodiversity wilderness regions of the world, and conservation icons in their own right (Mittermeier et al 2003). The extent to which the analysis of the type of properties inscribed in its list over time can shed light on the question here debated is obviously limited. This is due to the fact that a number of variables influenced the nomination process, such as the fact that not all State Parties were immediately ready to make nominations and go through the process of World Heritage inscription, that many still have more difficulties than others in this process, that political circumstances favor some regions over others, and that the List ultimately reflects a complex system of political, social, economic and bureaucratic factors. Not all the properties that could be on the List have actually been inscribed. Nonetheless, it is still evident that for those countries that had the capacity to nominate World Heritage areas, between the late 1970’s and the early 1980’s it was the time for the family jewels to join the prestigious List. Yellowstone, the world’s first national park, made it into the List in 1979. As the summary above shows, the Grand Canyon, an icon of American conservation, joined the List in the same year. Yosemite, the first scenic area to be set aside for conservation purposes, was added in 1984. Canada’s wilderness jewels – the Nahanni National Park, Wood Buffalo National Park, and the Canadian Rocky Mountains Parks were inscribed in the World Heritage list between 1978 and 1983. In Australia, the continent’s natural icons were declared World Heritage sites early on – the Great Barrier Reef in 1981 like Kakadu National Park, and the Tasmanian Wilderness in 1982. The fact that almost 40% of the natural sites inscribed in the first five years of the Convention’s implementation were located in traditional “wilderness’ countries – United States, Canada, Australia - is emblematic in itself. These are the countries were the wilderness idea was either born or had been imported and thrived, becoming embedded in the national conservation approach. Many such areas were wilderness icons for which fierce environmental battles had

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been fought, like the Tasmanian Wilderness, which represented Australia’s biggest environmental confrontation and a watershed in the country’s history of conservation. The coincidence between early World Heritage reservation and wilderness areas in countries which recognized wilderness as a valid conservation paradigm adds strength to the argument that the original interpretation of the Convention reflected its Western legacy. This trend is confirmed by IUCN: “During the first decade of the Convention, many of the most iconic, well-known and outstanding natural properties were nominated and immediately inscribed in the List” (IUCN 2006: 8). From this trend, though, an “imbalance” resulted for the World Heritage Lists. A majority of the first World Heritage sites were located in Western countries, namely Europe and North America. This mirrors the argument by which the Convention was, at least at its birth, the product of a Western idea of heritage, which corresponded to the European type of built heritage on one hand, and on the idea of wilderness in the natural sphere, on the other. The consequence of this imbalance and of the efforts to correct it has been the continuous redefinition of the World Heritage criteria and the evolution of the List towards a more universal vocation. Cameron (2005) identifies this evolution in the progressive shift from the above mentioned criterion of “the best of the best” to that of “representative of the best” when it comes to World Heritage nomination. For Rössler (2005), this meant a neat “anthropological turn” of the Convention work, meaning the departure from the absolute idea of iconic heritage to that more relativistic approach aimed at encouraging nominations from diverse cultures and regions of the world. This has transformed the World Heritage List, which as come to protect almost 1000 objects, between cultural and natural properties. New categories and criteria have emerged. Concepts like biodiversity, cultural landscapes, ecosystem approach, resilience and adaptive management have become tenets of the World Natural heritage system. Paradoxically, though, the only paradigm that has been left out from the official codification of the reservation criteria of the Convention is wilderness. It is symbolic that in the Operational Guidelines (2008) which set out the principles, notions and paradigms of the World Heritage idea and system, the term “wilderness” is not mentioned a single time. The paradigm that bears more resemblance to the original World Heritage idea, and the one that is reflected in the most important features of the Convention – first and foremost the notion of outstanding universal value and some of its criteria like integrity

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– has not been recognized as a guiding principle to identify potential World Heritage properties. This corresponds to the shift from the principle of iconic value, to that of representative list that has dominated the evolution of the World Heritage system, at least from the Global Strategy (1994) and the related Natural Strategy (1996) onwards. The further departure from the clear-cut vision of natural heritage as mirroring the wilderness paradigm started in 1988, when the UNESCO commissioned a Global Study to review the parameters of outstanding universal value. This marked the beginning of a shift towards a representative List, rather than a List only containing the iconic sites that were unique and world- famous. This process continued in 1992 with the drafting of a World Heritage Strategic Plan (UNESCO 1992). As Cameron (2005) recalls, the debate started to focus then on the question of the World Heritage standard. The dilemma implicit in the criteria for the identification of World Heritage properties can be summarized as the contradiction in terms in the notion of outstanding and universal value. An emphasis on outstanding, typical of the early life of the Conventions, carried a bias towards a certain heritage, namely European in the realm of culture and Western in the realm of nature, with the focus on the attributes of the wilderness idea. “Outstanding” meant iconic. And iconic was a subjective, hard to define concept, which was derived by a specific area of the world’s culture – the West. So, emphasis started to be shifted to the “universality” of the Convention. This implied diluting its original, strong link to iconic nature, and its re-definition on the basis of criteria that would open its list to contributions from different cultures and regions of the world. The World Heritage value started to become less outstanding, and more universal. This is the core of the shift from “the best of the best” to “representative of the best” that is pointed put by several authors (Cameron 2005; Rössler 2005). The consequence of this turn has been a source of debate, because it fuelled the perception that somehow the standard was being lowered to allow more sites to be inscribed in its list. This is, again, an eternal dilemma for the Convention: whether to privilege a representative list which might be bigger but less outstanding, or to prioritize the high standard of World Heritage properties, thus potentially shutting the door to many aspiring candidates. The choice of the World Heritage Committee has clearly and steadily favored the first option. A milestone of this process was, in 1994, the adoption of the “Global Strategy for a Balanced, Representative and Credible World Heritage List” (UNESCO 1994). The effort to draft a coherent document which would indicate the priorities and the action

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of the Convention was prompted by the realization that the application of the criteria for the identification of Outstanding Universal Value, and their interpretation, had led to the over- representation of a type of heritage – namely Western and European – and the under- representation of large areas of the world. In order to correct this situation, the concepts of balance, representativeness and credibility have been introduced as pillars of the World Heritage strategic action for the future. Obviously, there is a natural attrition between these notions. A balanced list assumes the effort to increase the presence of under-represented sites and themes, although this might clash with the requirement of outstanding value. The idea of a representative list implies the same conceptual problem, because a fair representation of the world’s regions and cultures was not the original mission of the Convention, which focused on the notion of exceptional value instead. This leads to the question of credibility. How low can the threshold of the World heritage Convention be taken, without affecting its credibility and, ultimately, its cachet, its “brand”? To find an answer to this question with regard to natural heritage, one must look at the work conducted by IUCN. While the Global Strategy had an exclusive focus on cultural properties, the gap was filled two years later with the adoption by IUCN of a “Natural Heritage Strategy” which has become the cornerstone of the Convention’s activity in the domain of nature preservation (IUCN 2006). The guiding principle in the interpretation the IUCN has made over the years of the outstanding universal value is derived from the text of the Convention itself. According to IUCN (2008), the Convention was never meant to protect all natural heritage, “but only those parts that are outstanding” (IUCN 2008: 2). By this, IUCN recognized the aspiration of the Convention to protect only the iconic places of the world. As Thorsell (1997) notes, “the World Heritage Convention set out to define the geography of superlative – the most outstanding natural and cultural places on Earth” (Thorsell 1997). With this in view, the IUCN has always claimed to apply the notion of Outstanding Universal Value in a rather restrictive way. The consequence of this, for natural properties, is that the concept of “representative World Heritage List” is limited, according to the IUCN (2006), which stated: “Although the Committee is on record as seeking to establish a representative, balanced and credible World Heritage List...IUCN considers that it is not intended that the List should be completely representative of the Earth’s entire natural and cultural heritage as this would be contrary to the concept of outstanding universal value” (IUCN

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2006, p. 30). Outstanding Universal Value, then, for IUCN means that a “representative” World Heritage List, as indicated by the Global Strategy, cannot be interpreted as a mandate to include properties from every country or every region of the world, because this would conflict with the basic requirement of properties to be exceptional. From this consideration derives the choice of the IUCN not to refer to the idea of representativeness, and to focus exclusively on the other attributes of balance and credibility (IUCN 2006). Overall, it can be noted that the definition of what constitutes Outstanding Universal Value remains the single most confronting philosophical dilemma for the World Heritage Convention, and that this occurs namely because of the original tension between iconic value and universal aspiration, between outstanding character and representativeness. And for natural properties in particular, between an original link to the Western legacy of nature conservation and the suggestions of the wilderness, and the later adaptation to the new trends and paradigms that have reshaped conservationism to present. The direction in which the Convention has been taken by the evolving and adaptive interpretation of its role as a conservation regime is controversial. It is made of two conflicting trends. On one hand the IUCN, which is responsible for the advice on natural sites, has interpreted the criteria restrictively. It has highlighted the fact that the Convention was created to protect the most outstanding, unique sites of the world. And thus, this was not intended to cover the entire representativeness of the global environment, and it was not meant to be perfectly balanced according to geographic or national parameters, because the distribution of outstanding natural sites is uneven across the globe. Another consequence, as stated by IUCN, is that the World Heritage List cannot be considered as being open-ended. Sooner or later, the world will run out of new outstanding universal sites to add to the List. If the principle of uniqueness and outstanding value must have any meaning, it can only be restrictive, selective, and elitist. By choosing to stick to the notion of Outstanding Universal Value, the IUCN has indicated its deep understanding of the Convention as a cultural mechanism of conservation, which serves an idea that is not “technical” or scientific, but anthropocentric and constructed culturally: the idea of iconic value. On the other hand, though, it should be noted that the practice has somehow differed from the theory, in the case of natural heritage. If one looks at the Strategies adopted by the IUCN to implement the directives of the Global Strategy for a Balanced, Representative and Credible

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World Heritage List (1994) and move forward with the completion of the World Natural Heritage List, one cannot fail to grasp the fact that IUCN has operated eminently as a “conservation” institution, which it is after all. It has, in other words, turned the World Heritage Convention into another instrument of global environmental governance, together with the “sister conventions” such as the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Ramsar Convention, CITES and so on. Although commendable, this use of the Convention has also produced side effects. In some way, it has contradicted the pledge to operate, in the case of the World Heritage Convention, exclusively on the basis of the core principle of that regime, which is the iconic value expressed in the notion of Outstanding Universal Value. Three key paradigms of conservation – like cultural landscapes, biodiversity, ecosystem theory and resilience - have been embedded and given priority within the Convention. They all mark a detachment from wilderness as a valid conservation reference. The notion of “human coexistence with the land” (Cameron 2005) has brought about the emergence of the concept of cultural landscapes (Jacques 1995), which has become an important strategy for the World Heritage regime. A relatively new concept in the early 1990’s, it is reflected in several properties of the World Heritage List. According to the official definition, cultural landscapes are “cultural properties which represent the “combined works of nature and of man” designated in Article 1 of the Convention. They are illustrative of the evolution of human society and settlement over time, under the influence of the physical constraints and/or opportunities presented by their natural environment and of successive social, economic and cultural forces, both external and internal” (Operational Guidelines 2008, section II.A, 47). Cultural landscapes represent a crucial stage of evolution of the World Heritage idea. They embody the other end of the “wilderness continuum”, where the coexistence of man and nature is complete and nature itself is the product of the human settlement and modification. It considers the role of people in the shaping of natural ecosystems, the interaction and sometimes synergy between natural and human dimension, and the acknowledgement of the cultural origin of the dichotomy nature/people, a product of a specifically Judeo-Christian, Western tradition that contrasts with many other traditions that see people as a part of nature. Cultural landscapes and mixed heritage are the response of the World Heritage Convention to this new intellectual frontier in the perception of the relation between man and nature. The notion has been adopted for the first time in 1992, at

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the 16th meeting of the World Heritage Committee. Three categories have been identified that exemplify the concept of cultural landscapes, and they are: clearly defined landscapes; organically evolved landscapes, divided in the subcategories of relic (or fossil) landscapes and continuing landscapes; and associative cultural landscapes (Rössler 2002). Cultural landscapes can be inscribed in the List as cultural properties or as mixed properties, according to the criteria on the basis of which they are identified. A particularly interesting dimension of cultural landscapes, for the purpose of this research, is the aboriginal cultural landscape, which forms the cultural basis of nominations of some of the most outstanding mixed properties currently on the World Heritage List. Parks Canada (2000) provides the following definition: “An Aboriginal cultural landscape is a place valued by an aboriginal group (or groups) because of their long and complex relationship with that land. It expresses their unity with the natural and spiritual environment. It embodies their traditional knowledge of spirits, places, land uses, and ecology”(quoted in Fowler, 2005). It is namely in cultural landscapes such the ones which are the product of Aboriginal culture that the clash between the wilderness idea and the human presence in the land has historically reached its apex. Indeed, Aboriginal landscapes have been hailed by the critics of the wilderness idea as the living confutation of its validity. The importance that cultural landscapes play within the Convention today is another proof of the distance with the former paradigm of wilderness, although as the history of the wilderness idea reveals, the role and presence of indigenous societies within wilderness areas is not incompatible with the qualification of those same areas as wilderness. The real incompatibility is between modern, technological impacts and the naturalness of the perceived wilderness. The concept of biodiversity (Wilson 1992) did not exist at the time when the Convention was drafted, and had to be imported later and transformed into one of the pillars of the identification of new properties. The early conservation movement was mainly inspired by two driving forces: one was the preservation of wilderness; the other one was a desire to save the iconic wildlife that was being pushed to the brink of extinction by encroaching human exploitation – in brief, it was the concept of wildlife preservation (Adams 2004). The latter is the forerunner of the idea of biodiversity. In the late 19th Century and throughout the 20th, single iconic species have often been the source of inspiration for conservationism. Mountain Gorillas, discovered in 1892 by Captain Oscar von Beringe during an expedition in the mountains that lie between the current

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states of Rwanda and Uganda, were the reason for the creation in 1925 of the first national park in Africa, the Parc Nationale Albert in the Belgian colony of Congo (Adams 2004). The declaration of this reserve embodies the process by which national parks were exported from the United Sates to the world. Despite the park declaration being a Belgian initiative, the American influence on such development was paramount. The inspiration for the first African park came first and foremost from the United States, where King Albert of Belgium visited the West in 1919, with the accompanying knowledge of scientists of the caliber of John C. Merriam an Henry Fairfield Osborn, Sr. Few years later, American scientist Carl Akeley embarked on a journey of discovery and study of African wildlife, particularly the mountain gorillas. His realization of the extreme danger faced by this iconic species prompted him to lobby the Belgian authorities for the establishment of a reserve to protect the few remaining primates. Aided by the support of John C. Merriam, his effort was crowned in 1925 by the declaration of the Parc Nationale Albert (Nash 1982). Already at the turn of the 19h century, the plight of big game in Africa started to act as a catalyst for preservation efforts within the British Empire. As early as 1890 British conservationists proposed a series of legislative interventions aimed at ensuring the survival of game in the African colonies. In 1900, under British initiative, seven colonial powers adopted a conservation agenda for Africa (Nash 1982). This effort ultimately proved unsuccessful, due to its excessive rigidity, but soon after the American idea of the national park was exported on a large scale to the African continent, with much more tangible results. In general, the pressure of hunting and the corresponding desire to save iconic species from extinction was the drive behind preservation efforts in Africa, although at this early stage conservationists still held a view – later abandoned by ecologists – which divided wildlife between iconic species to be saved and noxious animals to be exterminated (Nash 1982). Another iconic example of wildlife-focused conservation is a species that gained worldwide attention and which prompted the first international collaboration on a grand scale to rescue it from the threat of extinction: the Arabian Oryx, which gave the name to a famous operation involving several countries and successful captivity breeding attempts (Adams 2004). Until then, the effort of conservationism was mainly influenced by the “icon” value of nature. Be it grand landscapes and majestic wilderness, or fascinating specimens of wildlife, the aesthetic, emotional and spiritual dimension of nature was predominant as a drive for conservation. From the 1970’s,

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though, remarkable changes occurred in the scientific perception of ecological systems and nature. The evolution and sophistication of the scientific knowledge of disciplines such as biology and ecology added a different perspective to conservation: one that was less anthropocentric and more eco-centric. A point of view that was less irrational, and more scientific. The understanding of the complexity of ecosystems highlighted the limitations of the concept of wildlife, and the complexity of natural life. This is how the new paradigm of biological diversity – shortened to biodiversity – saw the light. Officially, it only came into use after a conference organized in 1986 by the US National Academy of Sciences and the Smithsonian Institute. The proceedings of the Conference were edited by Edward Wilson, who then gave the term biodiversity its notoriety with his book “The Diversity of Life” (Wilson 1992). Biodiversity was a more appropriate term than wildlife to describe the variety and richness of life on Earth, and a better focus for conservation efforts. As it is officially defined, biodiversity indicates “the variability among living organisms from all sources including, inter alia, terrestrial, marine and other aquatic ecosystems and the ecological complexes of which they are part; this includes diversity within species, between species and of ecosystems” (CBD 1992, art. 2). Other key concepts that have been absorbed by the World Heritage Convention and have become guiding principles include the most advanced conservation paradigms based on science and ecology, such as conservation biology (Soulé 1986; Caughley and Gunn 1995; Burgam and Lindenmayer 1998; Hedrick et al 1996), ecosystem theory (Forman 1983) and ecosystem resilience (Holling 1973). It is worth nothing that already in the work of wilderness philosophers such as Aldo Leopold the idea of ecosystem, though not scientifically expressed, started to emerge. In fact, far from detracting value from the concept of wilderness, ecological theory adds strength to the case for wilderness reservation, because the core idea of intact, natural landscapes which preserve all the elements of the ecosystem reflects the crucial features of the wilderness idea, worded in a contemporary scientific manner. A whole tradition of wilderness conservation theory, as already recalled, rather than focusing on the anthropocentric values of the wilderness – such as recreation, spiritual and social values – stresses the importance of its eco-centric values – the scientific arguments about preserving intact, natural areas, which are articulated by ecology

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and the above mentioned contemporary paradigms (Frankel 1977; Wright 1994; Kirkpatrick 1993; Dearden 1989; Henning 1987; Mittermeier et al 2003; Noss 1991). The trend towards a technical and scientific use of the Convention as a tool of global conservation is also evident in the way the IUCN has proceeded with the schematization of the World Natural Heritage agenda. In 2004, IUCN has published the most detailed and complex study of the system of natural and mixed sites within the World Heritage List (IUCN 2004). It is a highly technical document, which incorporates the most advanced and recognized methods of environmental classification and evaluation at the disposal of conservationism today. The scope of such scientific approach was to draft a strategy for the future, to guide the further enlargement of the World Heritage List by incorporating properties that would satisfy the principles of representativeness and balance, but only relatively to criteria ix and x for the identification of natural heritage. According to the paper, the scope of such review was to “provide a comprehensive assessment of the coverage of al the major global habitat types within the World Heritage network through analysis of global habitat mapping and biodiversity prioritization schemes; develop comprehensive maps combining World Heritage sites with major habitats and other natural features; report on the findings, including the identification of significant gaps in the World Heritage network where nominations can be encouraged provide that they are of OUV and meet conditions of integrity (IUCN 2004, p. 3). The classification of the world for the purpose of identifying suitable World Heritage values areas is divided per concepts: 1. Biogeography: - Udvardy biogeographic system; - World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) Global 200 Ecoregions WWF's Global 200 ecoregions are subsets derived from outstanding examples of 14 defined terrestrial, freshwater, and marine major habitat types and seven biogeographic realms. They are also comprised of varying combinations of the 867 ecoregions identified overall by WWF. In terms of World Heritage analysis the system offers a potential alternative or complementary approach to the Udvardy system since it is not only biogeographically based but also prioritized on the basis of conservation values; 2. Habitats

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- IUCN/Species Survival Commission (SSC) Global Habitat Classification This scheme is under development, mainly to provide a standard tool for characterizing habitat preferences and habitat occupancy of species on the IUCN Red List. There is a close interlinkage between this system and the Global Land Cover Characterization; - Global Land Cover Characterization (GLCC) This classification system was developed by Olson (1994a, 1994b) for the purpose of formulating a global ecosystem framework, which uses 94 ecosystem classes. 3. Biodiversity - Conservation International (CI) Biodiversity Hotspots Conservation International has identified 25 biodiversity hotspots around the world, based principally on a combination of high plant endemism and significant human impact. In order to qualify as a hotspot a region must contain 1,500 endemic plant species – 0.5% of the global total. However, hotspots also hold an enormous number of the planet’s endemic fauna. - BirdLife International Endemic Bird Areas (EBAs) BirdLife International has designated approximately 2% of the world’s land surface as Endemic Bird Areas or EBAs. Globally 218 different EBAs have been identified, covering the ranges of 93% of restricted range birds (2,451 species or roughly 25% of all known bird species). - IUCN/WWF Centers of Plant Diversity This scheme identifies 250 major sites of botanical diversity around the globe. The principle criteria are high species diversity or large numbers of endemic species, or both. Other factors related to CPDs include: importance as gene pools for plants with value to humans; sites with a diverse range of habitat types; and (similar to CI hotspots) those that are threatened or under imminent threat. Except for the Udvardy and the GLCC systems all of these priority identification and classification systems have in common an origin or focus on high conservation values and threats. Together they provide a bio-geographic mapping framework based on ‘first principles’ (Udvardy) as well as high conservation value (WWF Global 200 Eco-regions), habitat mapping at different resolutions of the ‘real world’ based on remote sensing analysis, and thematically derived priority conservation systems (hotspots, EBAs and CPDs). Theoretically, all of these

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approaches provide both an evaluation framework and prioritization for the existing WH network and potential additions to that network” (IUCN 2005: 4). What is interesting to highlight about this report is namely its approach. It is entirely “scientific”. Its focus on criteria ix and x – biological value and biodiversity conservation value - is highly symbolic. It reflects a trend in World Heritage reservation, which has come to favor sites of Outstanding Universal Value for the above mentioned criteria. This highlights the existence of at least two stages in the life of the Convention. A first stage, as already recalled, corresponded to the early years of the Convention, when iconic properties were inscribed, most of which included criterion vii – aesthetic beauty – which is the most “cultural” of all criteria and the one that preserves a direct link to the wilderness idea. A second stage, more recently, has instead focused on the Convention as a technical tool of conservation. Its work has been guided by more stringent and scientific principles, corresponding to the new paradigms such as biodiversity that have replaced wilderness as reservation principles. The only time the IUCN mentions wilderness in the studies devoted the World Heritage Convention role in protecting nature is with regard to a review of the average size of World Heritage properties, where it notes that “Natural World Heritage Sites contain amongst their number a significant number of large protected areas. Such larger areas have particular importance in relation to the extinction crisis being experienced by global biodiversity as they include large tracts of the last remaining wilderness areas of the world and areas that provide large-scale connectivity between protected and unprotected areas” (IUCN 2008: 13). Wilderness, it is acknowledged here, can play a crucial role also for biodiversity preservation and in the face of threats like climate change. The side effect of this process has been the dilution of the “iconic” requirement of World Heritage properties. Further proof of this is in the strategies of progressive enlargement of the World Natural Heritage list. They have focused on specialized sectors, with the identification and the promotion of under-represented bioregions and biomes, habitats and biodiversity hotspots; studies have been carried out on thematic areas, such as World Heritage Caves and Karsts (IUCN 2008c), World Heritage Volcanoes (2009), Geological World Heritage (IUCN 2005), World Heritage Wetlands and Marine areas (IUCN 1997), World Heritage Mountains (IUCN 2002), World Heritage Forests (IUCN 1997) and so on. The paradox of this specialization, though, is that the only paradigm of conservation which is not officially

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contemplated in any study, review or strategic paper is the one that bears the uttermost resemblance to the original World Heritage idea: wilderness. Although recognized as a conservation paradigm by IUCN, which considers wilderness as a subcategory I(b) within the strictest level for nature protection (IUCN 1994), the notion hasn’t been included in the strategy for the future of the World Natural Heritage List. If wilderness is contained within new sites, it is not explicitly recognized as a criterion itself. This is the major issue for a regime which is cultural at its core, but has been taken down a path of specialization and scientific transformation. The intention was good, but the result contentious. The Convention’s biggest asset is cultural. It is still the iconic value of the idea, of the brand. That was its original vocation, and that remains the trait that differentiates it from any other tool of environmental governance. Such outcome might be, after all, unimportant to many observers. But the question it raises is how it ultimately affects the effectiveness of the Convention. It is, here, a crucial philosophical dilemma. The trouble is that the Convention is not, per se, a particularly “hard” law system. It isn’t a very powerful international regime. In fact, it is extremely weak on three crucial dimensions in which the strength of a regime could be expressed” legal, economic, and scientific. The scientific weakness of the Convention has already been highlighted through the review of its history. It lies in the origin of the Convention as an ideal, rather than a scientific endeavor. And if on one hand the undefined nature of the Convention has been an asset that has granted it a high degree of flexibility and adaptability, on the other hand it is also the source of its enduring lack of a clear identity. The history of the Convention, recalled above, has demonstrated the lack of scientific foundations to the World Heritage idea, its cultural birthmark and the fact that such undefined nature has allowed, on the other hand, a high degree of specialization. Such specialization, though, has embedded and applied tools and theories that have been produced elsewhere, in the ranks of conservation institutions. The Convention has been successful in adopting and adapting them, but it has done so by relying on the expertise of an external body, IUCN. The Convention itself hasn’t produced science, and it wasn’t born out of it in the first place. Financially, the World Heritage Convention is not well endowed: its direct economic contribution to conservation is limited to very specific cases of international assistance that draws from a modest World Heritage Fund. As for its legal system, the Convention is founded on the principle of State sovereignty. It lacks any notable enforcement power. It rests on

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the good will and compliance of State Parties. The legal weakness of the Convention appears clearly from an analysis of the structure and functioning of its system. What also appears clearly is the fact that in the end, the iconic value of the World Heritage idea is the only real source of strength of the Convention. It constitutes the real asset the Convention possesses to enforce compliance on the part of member States, thus solving the issues deriving form the lack of legal strength. And it is also an added economic asset, because despite the inadequacy of direct financial contribution, what the Convention provides is a powerful brand, which can generate significant revenues in the form of tourism. Both these aspects – the compliance by member States and the economic benefits of the World Heritage tourism brand – are inextricably linked to the iconic value of the World Heritage Convention. The iconic value represents the cultural dimension of it. It is the strongest surviving link to the original idea of wilderness, and it is expressed particularly in criterion vii – the natural exceptionality of World Heritage sites and their aesthetic beauty. For this reason, a dilution of the iconic value of the Convention in the name of science and universality poses the danger of a dilution of the overall effectiveness of the system. On the other hand, it is possible to prove that the strengthening of the iconic value leads to a higher chance of success, to a formidable strengthening of the effectiveness of the Convention. The case study from Tasmania is crucial in this respect. It shows that when a World Heritage site maintains its clear and immediate link to the iconic value, it has higher chances to make a real difference both for conservation purposes and for economic development through tourism. What is more significant, the Tasmanian Wilderness case demonstrates clearly that the iconic value is stronger when the World Heritage values are associated to the only “cultural” paradigm for conservation: wilderness. Such is the genetic affinity between the wilderness idea and the World Heritage idea, and their common origin in a cultural view of nature, that their combination proves to be the strongest assurance for the iconic value to express its potential, in a more compelling way than the case in which the World Heritage is associated to any other conservation paradigm, be it biodiversity or ecosystem theory or cultural landscapes. Tasmania also shows the other side of the question: that an exclusively scientific and technical approach to conservation marks a substantial difference between the two identified stages of the life of the Convention, and weakens its effectiveness in tackling wilderness disputes. This reflection brings us to the specific question of the effectiveness of the Convention as a system of nature

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conservation, with regard to wilderness contexts, and of the role of the iconic dimension - which is the strongest link to wilderness – in it.

The question of effectiveness

Talking about the effectiveness of the World Heritage Convention, as for any other regime, needs a clarification. What is meant by effectiveness? Scholars have debated the meaning of effectiveness of regimes at the international level, characterized by the absence of State power and arranged around institutions and organizations (Young 1994; Hempel 1996; Young 1999; Helm and Sprinz 2000; Young 2003). The stateless international society is a challenge for environmental governance (Young 1994). A large chunk of the rules and covenants that regulate the international community pertain to the domain of soft rather than hard law. Hard law “includes legally binding obligations that are precise (or can be made precise through adjudication or the issuance of detailed regulations) and that delegate authority for interpreting and implementing the law”, while soft law “begins once legal arrangements are weakened along one or more of the dimensions of obligation, precision and delegation” (Abbott and Snidal 2000). The degree to which a regime of soft law nature translates into a system that is perceived as being closer to the domain of hard law can be an indication of its effectiveness. This is very appropriate for the World heritage Convention, which presents serious structural weaknesses, and yet is a thriving regime that enjoys influence and prestige. From the point of view of delegation, for example, the sacrifice of State sovereignty within the Convention’s system is nil, which poses the dilemma of sovereignty versus responsibility (Pressouyre 1996). The question of effectiveness is multifaceted because the social and political systems on which international regimes act are complex (Young 1999). “The concept of effectiveness as applied to international institutions defines a continuous variable. Regimes can range along a continuum from ineffectual arrangements, which wind up as dead letters, to highly effective arrangements, which produce quick and decisive solutions to the problem at hand” (Young 1999: 1). The problem with international regimes is that there are different levels of effectiveness that can be taken into consideration. The first step is to choose which parameter should be considered as the

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most suitable to assess on which end of the above-mentioned continuum a particular regime sits in a given case. As a general consideration, an institution is effective if it gives a positive contribution to the problem which determined its creation. In the evaluation of the different approaches that Young (1999) offers with regard to the effectiveness of international regimes, this particular approach is referred to as “problem-solving”. But its shortcoming is that it is too simplistic, given the above recalled complexity of social systems. It is very hard to ascribe to a single regime the solution of a problem, given the interrelated net of variables found in social systems. The most relevant approaches identified by Young are legal, economic, and political. The strictly legal perspective is crucial for the World Heritage regime, but overall insufficient. According to it, a regime can be considered effective if it manages to obtain compliance. Given the issue of state sovereignty, which represents the legal weakness of the Convention, compliance is crucial. A World Heritage system can only be a national World Heritage system. In Australia, for example, the Convention has been translated into a strong national legal framework, first through the World Heritage Properties Conservation Act in 1983 - as a result of the fight over the Tasmanian wilderness - and then through the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 – which has re-organized the principles, rules and procedures for the implementation of the Convention in the country. The legal aspect of the question though is not enough. It doesn’t say anything about the actual effect on the problem the regime addresses. In the domain of natural resource policy and conservation, this is particularly relevant. A regime that works perfectly from the legal point of view, but that doesn’t deliver results in terms of protecting a natural area or a threatened species, cannot be regarded as effective. The same problem concerns the economic approach to the effectiveness question, which postulates that in addition to the compliance element, the effectiveness of a regime is calculated also on the basis of a criterion of efficiency: the lower the cost to achieve compliance, the more effective it is. Again, this doesn’t tackle the question of outcomes. As for the political approach, the crucial dimension is behavioral. It implies that the ‘effective regimes cause changes in the behavior of actors, in the interests of actors, or in the policies and performance of institutions in ways that contribute to positive management of the targeted problem” (Young 1999: 5). Young also distinguishes between direct and indirect effectiveness,

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with the first being an immediate impact upon the issue, and the latter having effects in the future, or producing consequences of different order that might have an impact on similar situations in other circumstances. The question of effectiveness here considered in relation to the World Heritage Convention is eminently political. The issue that it tackles is not the management of natural areas but rather the political question of natural resource policy and the conflicting interests between conservation and economic exploitation. In this context, the Convention is considered as effective if it influences the behavior of State parties over the question of resources allocation and conservation. The Tasmanian case study is emblematic in this respect, because the State is a classic example of conflict over natural resource use. The crucial role of the Convention has been the behavioral modification of the actors, although it has had both direct and indirect effectiveness. Direct, in the immediate circumstance of a socio- economic conflict that has found a resolution with the introduction of the World Heritage variable. And indirect, for the seeds of change that it has planted in the Tasmanian society and for the influence that it has had in similar circumstances in other Australian context, hence having an influence later in time. The other side of the question of effectiveness that this research considers – the economic benefit derived from the World Heritage brand for tourism development – is just a complementary element of the political question. The economic success is another factor that feeds back into the modification of the behaviors, interests and policies of actors, orientating them in favor of the Convention’s goals of natural heritage conservation. Once identified the level of effectiveness that is considered, the key question is to understand to what factor or factors the political effectiveness can be ascribed. The problem is the apparent paradox of the “Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage”. It is legally weak, scientifically undefined, and economically under-funded. And yet, it is the most most-widely ratified Convention of its genre (Hunter et al. 1998). The ratification of the World Heritage Convention is almost universal, with 183 States out of a total of 191 being member Parties to it. The number of properties inscribed in its Lists has also never ceased to grow, and as of 2009 they comprise 890 properties, located in 145 of the 183 State parties. Of these World Heritage sites scattered at the four corners of the globe, 689 are cultural, 176 are natural and 25 are mixed. The World Heritage Convention has become one of the major players of the global conservation strategy. It is a cornerstone of biodiversity preservation, which has

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taken the lead of the conservation agenda. The notion of biodiversity has become one of the key guiding principles for the Convention’s natural heritage strategy, given its network of protected areas represent some of the best preserved and most biologically diverse ecosystems on Earth. In the United Nations framework, which represents the highest expression of the international community’s effort to address environmental issues and nature preservation, few other regimes share with the World Heritage Convention the responsibility for environmental governance. The most important and relevant to the purpose of the World Heritage Convention are: - Man and the Biosphere (MAB) Program - Convention on Wetlands of International Importance especially as Waterfowl Habitat (Ramsar) (1971) - Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) (1973) - Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (CMS) (1979) - United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) (1982) - Convention on Biological Diversity (1992) United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (New York, 1992) The Convention for Biological Diversity (CBD), the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES), the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands (Ramsar Convention), and the Convention on Migratory Species (Bonn Convention) are formally allied with the World Heritage Convention within the so-called “Biodiversity Liaison Group”, which aims at achieving the “2010 Biodiversity target as defined by the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD 2009; Pisupati B. Et al. 2004). In addition, these treaties collaborate towards the achievement of the Millennium Development Goals. They directly contribute to Goal 7 – defined as environmental sustainability - and indirectly to Goal 1 – defined as poverty eradication (United Nations 2000). The raw data on the success of the World Heritage Convention in terms of ratification and growth would suggest that it possesses an extraordinary strength. Its recognition, prestige, ratification rate and engagement worldwide are often mentioned as proofs of its effectiveness and success (Bandarin 2003, 2007). In reality, the Convention is rather weak under many crucial aspects.

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The burden of State sovereignty and the Convention’s powers

As mentioned above, from the legal point of view, its foundations are shaky. This is due to an “original sin”, embedded in one of the founding principles of the Convention: the recognition of the State sovereignty as absolute, and predominant in the life of the regime. Member States play the most important role in the implementation and enforcement of the World Heritage. This appears with striking evidence from the Convention’s text itself. To an accurate reading, the first principle engraved in the text of the World Heritage Convention reveals the issue of responsibility, and its relation to the question of sovereignty. It is a crucial passage, in that it shapes the whole functioning of the international system the Convention creates. The question of responsibility, and the consequent problem of enforcement, lay at the heart of every instrument of international law. The lack of a supranational authority possessing the tools necessary to the enforcement of the regulations contained in most Conventions, treaties and agreements, is what poses the dilemma of effectiveness at the stage of implementation and compliance for those legal instruments. In the case of the World Heritage, it can be said that, at least originally, the Convention wasn’t born with a particular strength. This derives from the provision contained in article 4 of the Convention (UNESCO 1972), which clearly attributes to the States the responsibility regarding the implementation, the monitoring, and the enforcement of the World Heritage regime. By stating that “each State Party recognizes that the duty of ensuring the identification, protection, conservation, presentation and transmission to future generations of the cultural and natural heritage…situated on its territory belongs primarily to the State”, the Convention makes a clear statement about its nature. The full prerogatives regarding the basic goal of its regime – the preservation of natural and cultural heritage – are attributed to State parties. This embraces the whole process by which cultural and natural heritage is ultimately preserved. According to Pressouyre (1996), the question of sovereignty determined also the main obstacles, in the first two decades of implementation of the Convention, to its functioning. The weakness of the Convention, notices the author, derives from an inherent contradiction: that between the concept of universal heritage, and the idea of sovereignty, which in the specific case is articulated as recognition of the ownership of World Heritage properties by the States that host

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them in their territory. The evidence of such weakness emerges, in the author’s analysis, particularly in three cases: the impingement of sovereignty, particularly with regard to federal states where conflicts over World Heritage implementation arise between the single States and the Federal level, as was often the case in Australia in landmark disputes such as the Kakadu and the Tasmanian Wilderness; the question of transfer of sovereignty, when new States emerge as a result of the fusion or the collapse of pre-existing entities; and the case of internal conflicts – for example in the former Yugoslavia – which according to this critique highlighted the “unsuitability of the Convention” in such scenarios (Pressouyre 1996). As far as the Convention’s text is concerned, the duties of States begin with the “identification” of World Heritage properties: only a State party in the territory of which a potential cultural, natural or mixed World Heritage property is located, can acknowledge this potential and carry out the steps needed in order for that potential to be recognized internationally. No interference from other State parties, neither from agencies or international bodies – unless with the explicit consent of the State concerned – can be admitted, as deriving from the text of the Convention. As article 11 of the Convention state: “The inclusion of a property in the World Heritage List requires the consent of the State concerned”. The second stage of the inclusion of a site as possessing World Heritage values in the realm of the World Heritage regime is the official submission of its candidature to the UNESCO’s World Heritage Committee. Again, it is only the faculty of a State party to proceed with the submission of candidature. Although the technical “advisory bodies” - namely IUCN for natural properties, ICOMOS and ICCROM for cultural properties - are also involved in this process, and their role in it is actually crucial, it does not change the nature of the question. The starting point is always the will of a State party to proceed with a nomination, and only its consent to the activities required to this end can activate the process. The “presentation”, “preservation” and “transmission” of a World Heritage property - again the prerogative and the duty of State parties - complete the process through which the Convention reaches its ultimate goal of conserving heritage for future generations, and it stresses once more how intact and absolute the prerogative of States is in the design of the Convention. A further look at the other source of rules and procedure that govern the World Heritage regime, the Operational Guidelines (2008), reveals that the place and role of State parties in the overall

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life of the Convention is solidly reaffirmed. The Guidelines devote their first section to the roles, duties, responsibilities and prerogatives of the State Parties. Comma 15 of section I.C of the Guidelines clearly states the integrity of the States’ sovereignty, while addressing the issue of their responsibility for the purposes of the Convention: “While fully respecting the sovereignty of the States on whose territories the cultural and natural heritage is situated, State Parties to the Convention recognize the collective interest of the international community to cooperate in the protection of this heritage”. It then identifies fifteen domains of actions for the States in their fulfillment of the Convention’s goals: from those already mentioned of “identification, nomination, protection, conservation, presentation and transmissions of cultural and natural heritage”, to the policy measures aimed at integrating heritage in the life of the community, the planning, management, researching, reporting activities related to World Heritage properties located in their territory, and to the funding duties and the educational information initiatives. Reporting deserves a special consideration, because it represents one of the cornerstones of the process of effective preservation of World Heritage properties. The Convention demands that State parties submit a periodic reporting concerning the state of conservation of the World Heritage properties in its jurisdiction. The recognition of the importance of monitoring and reporting for the effective conservation of properties has been the issue of a long process of codification of rules and principles for these activities. In 1993 The World Heritage Centre, together with the advisory bodies, created a framework for the activities of monitoring and reporting, and in 1994 the World Heritage Committee reaffirmed the principle that these crucial activities are the responsibility of State parties. In 1998, a comprehensive document containing the aims and rules of Periodic Reporting has been drafted (UNESCO 2007). According to this framework, four aims are identified as crucial to the activity of reporting: to assess the application of the Convention by State Parties; to assess whether the World Heritage values of the sites inscribed on the List are being maintained over time; to provide up-to-date information about World Heritage sites that records their changing circumstances and state of conservation; to be a mechanism for regional cooperation and exchange of information and experiences between State Parties concerning the implementation of the Convention and World Heritage conservation (UNESCO 2007: 46). The place, role and responsibility of State Parties thus represent the driving force of the World Heritage system. This is a weakness that the Convention

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has so far been able to balance and manage. With one exception, which exemplifies the dilemma of the effectiveness for a conservation regime ultimately founded on the principle of the good will of the State Parties. In June 2007, the World Heritage Committee, gathered in Christchurch in New Zealand, took an unprecedented measure. For the first time since the adoption of the World Heritage Convention in 1972, it deleted a property from its list. The property is the Arabian Oryx Sanctuary, located in Oman. It was the country’s only natural World Heritage area, and quite a symbolic place for one of the most debated and pivotal conservation activities endeavored in the XXth Century: the reintroduction in the wild of captive populations of an endangered species. The peculiar story of the Oryx of the Arabian Peninsula is emblematic in this respect, with Operation Oryx – the attempt by the Fauna Preservation Society in the 1960’s to capture wild Arabian Oryx to breed them in captivity – being one of the best examples of the attention devoted by conservationists to the rescue of single iconic species. The international character of the effort to save the Arabian Oryx from extinction, the amount of resources, time and planning devoted to the issue, make the disappearance of the World Heritage area dedicated for the sake of this species particularly symbolic. The campaign to save the Arabian Oryx made the species into one of the iconic flagships of conservationism. Herds of Arabian Oryx were bred in captivity in zoos around the world, with the aim of releasing them to recreate wild population, had the circumstances for this presented themselves. The breeding program began way before the last herd was exterminated in the wild, which occurred in 1972 (Chatty 1999). First started in Phoenix, Arizona, with Oryx captured during the Operation Oryx and others donated by Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, the breeding program proved very successful. By 1979, there were 159 males and 163 females in captivity, and that year alone 48 calves had been born (Adams 2004). In the Arabian Peninsula other herds were kept, such as the ones in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Abu Dhabi and Dubai. The number of captive Oryx held in zoos around the world received a very emblematic name: the World Herd (Adams 2004). After a few Oryx were transported to Israel and Jordan for a reintroduction project, the main focus of the reintroduction of the species in the wild became Oman. The plateau of Jiddat al Harasi was identified as being the most suitable for the attempt. In 1980 the release of captive

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herds from international zoos began. After 25 years, the Oryx sanctuary of Oman counted 280 animals in the wild (Adams 2004). The area in which the reintroduction project was carried out was nominated for World Heritage inscription in 1994. By 1996, the Oryx Sanctuary World Heritage area in Oman had an Oryx population of 450 (WHC 2007). But when the Arabian Oryx seemed to be out of the wood, its plight unfolded again. In a matter of years poaching reduced the wild herd to approximately 65 individuals, with only four breeding couples remaining. In addition, the Government of Oman took the unilateral step of reducing the size of the World Heritage area by 90%. The World Heritage Committee was left with the only choice to remove the property form the List, noting that “after extensive consultation with the State Party, the Committee felt that the unilateral reduction in the size of the Sanctuary and plans to proceed with hydrocarbon prospection would destroy the value and integrity of the property” (WHC 2007). The abrupt end of the Oryx Sanctuary of Oman poses with even more force the question of the effectiveness of the World Heritage Convention, in light of the impotence of the Committee to redress the threat to a natural World Heritage property, and it highlights one of the most controversial aspects of the question: the enforcement powers at the disposal of the Convention, and the role of the State Parties in the overall balance of the regime. It is the issue, in other words, of the balance between sovereignty and responsibility, which is a recurring theme in the reflections about the effectiveness of the Convention, and about its limits. Although the Convention's texts set out rules, regulations and mechanisms aimed at ensuring the preservation of its cultural and natural properties, it is in substance an extremely decentralized regime with very limited enforcement powers. By recognizing the absolute sovereignty of national states over their heritage, and by leaving them the entire responsibility to preserve and present them for future generations, the Convention has in theory a very limited range of action in term of enforcement. Its only concrete power, as highlighted, is to express its concern in case of a threat affecting a property, and to invite the Stat Party to intervene or remove it, while the only sanction at its disposal is to place the property in the list of World Heritage in danger – a mechanism that has surely proved successful in many instances, because of the consequences in terms of prestige, image, and political pressure, but that by itself is rather a psychological means of pressure than a truly legal enforcement power. Furthermore, the World Heritage Convention

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itself does not possess a precise set of management rules and policies. In this respect, as mentioned above, the Convention only has preventive rules, in the sense that it demands that properties that are nominated for World Heritage inclusion already enjoy some kind of protection, and have a detailed management plan already in place. But the choice of the management strategies is left to the national dimension, with only general management indications on the part of the Convention and the sole, general requirement that management choices guarantee the preservation of the outstanding universal value of the property. The other side of the coin of State sovereignty is represented by the powers, functions and attributions of the Intergovernmental Committee, called the “World Heritage Committee”. It is elected by the General Assembly of State Parties and it composed of 21 members. The main principle that governs the election is that the ensuing Committee should be the expression of “balanced representation” of the world’s main geographical and cultural regions. For this reason, although the normal term of office is 6 years, the General Assembly usually invites State parties to step down voluntarily after four years in order to let other countries sit in the Committee, and not to seek consecutive re-election. Currently, one seat within the Committee is reserved for State Parties that do not have any property listed as World Heritage. Article 11 of the Convention states that the Director-General of the UNESCO prepares the Committee’s documentation, its agenda, and has the responsibility for the implementation of its decisions (UNESCO 1972). In this capacity, he is supported by three main advisory bodies: the ICCROM (International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and the Restoration of Cultural property) and the ICOMOS (International Council of Monuments and Sites) for the cultural World Heritage, and the IUCN (World Conservation Union) for the World natural Heritage. The functions of the World Heritage Committee balance the question of State sovereignty and international responsibility. Although the Committee is composed of representatives of member States, its main working principle is to make decisions based on “objective and scientific methods”, and not on the basis of political agendas. In this perspective, the Committee is the executive organ of the Convention, and has considerable power within the World Heritage regime. Section III of the Convention, which contains articles 8 to 14, is devoted to the functions and powers of the World Heritage Committee. In addition, section I.E of the Operational Guidelines

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completes and defines the attributions contained in the text of the Convention. The main functions of the Committee, according to the Conventions’ Chart, are: - to establish and keep the World Heritage Lists; - to deliberate on the admissibility of candidatures to the World Heritage submitted by State parties; as noted above, though, it can only proceed to the inclusion after obtaining the consent from the State concerned; - to define the criteria of inclusion of cultural and natural properties in the World Heritage Lists; - to encourages studies and researches needed for the drawing up of World Heritage Lists. These duties still don’t say much about the actual powers of enforcement at the disposal of the Committee. Article 11, comma 4 of the Convention is the highlight that can best indicate what the main power, in terms of enforcement, the Committee possesses with regard to State parties: “The Committee Shall establish, keep up to date and publish, whenever circumstances shall so require, under the title of “list of World Heritage in Danger”, a list of the properties appearing in the World Heritage List for the conservation of which major operations are necessary and for which assistance has been requested under this Convention. This list shall contain an estimate of the cost of such operations. The list may include only such property forming part of the cultural and natural heritage as is threatened by serious and specific dangers, such as the threat of disappearance caused by accelerated deterioration, large-scale public or private projects or rapid urban or tourist development projects; destruction caused by changes in the use or ownership of the land; major alterations due to unknown causes; abandonment for any reason whatsoever; the outbreak or the threat of an armed conflict; calamities and cataclysms; serious fires, earthquakes, landslides; volcanic eruptions; changes in water level, floods and tidal waves; The Committee may at any time, in case of urgent need, make a new entry in the List of World Heritage in Danger and publicize such entry immediately”. As already mentioned, the World Heritage is an international regime that explicitly leaves the State parties’ sovereignty intact under all circumstances. And yet, despite its apparent lack of power in the domain of enforcement, in many instances it has shown the ability to influence public opinion, governments, and in the end, State politics and policies. The “World Heritage in Danger” List is probably the most important tool in this context. The reason why the List of the World Heritage in Danger has become a crucial power for the Convention is to be found more in

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the domain of culture and psychology than in the realm of law. World Heritage status has become a source of international pride for nations. In its successful evolution into a highly regarded symbolic and cultural factor we can identify the main strength of the entire regime and the willingness of the States to fulfill its requirements. The “downgrading” of a property forming part of the cultural or natural World Heritage to this particular List of World Heritage in Danger can be for this reason a humiliating blow to the national pride and damage the national image. As Pressouyre (1996: 56) notices, “it remains that the World Heritage List is – erroneously – considered as some sort of Honor Roll and inclusion in the List of Heritage in Danger as being placed on the dock of dishonor”. On its part, UNESCO (2007) instead stresses that the List of Heritage in Danger wasn’t meant as a punitive measure, but rather as an encouragement for the State Party to take measures to redress the situation conducive to the downgrading of the property: “The listing of a site as World Heritage in Danger should in any case not be considered as a sanction, but as a mechanism that triggers international solidarity” (UNESCO 2007:45). But the reality is that the symbolic value of the World Heritage regime has become the best asset for its conservation purpose, and the Heritage in Danger List the main tool for this power to produce its effect. Which is something the same UNESCO recognizes, though implicitly: “The mere prospect of inscribing a site on the Danger List may also encourage State Parties to take urgent conservation measures” (UNESCO 2007: 45). In fact, in several occasions the prospect of a World Heritage property being inscribed in the “in danger” list has been enough for the concerned State to take the necessary measures for the threats to the site to be averted, when it was in its power. Because of the significance of this mechanism, a more detailed analysis of the List of the Heritage in Danger, its rules and requirements, is offered in the section that outlines the principles and characteristics of the World Heritage List. An example of the influence that the Convention can exert on a state Party through this prestige/shame mechanism can be found in the saga of a well-known Russian property, Lake Bajkal. Lake Baikal holds a special place in the history of Russia. Its name has resounded powerfully and evocatively for many years in the most crucial period for the formation of a contemporary Russian national ethos, in the last decades of Soviet rule. It has animated the most enduring struggle for environmental conservation in the history of the country, and has reawakened themes and passions that had seemed to have disappeared under the Communist regime but

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reemerged from the innermost core of the Russian identity. Lake Baikal, after all, is indeed a unique place. Its natural characteristics distinguish it among the major freshwater bodies of the world. It is the deepest and the most ancient lake. It is estimated that all the major rivers of the world would take one year to fill it. It holds 20% of the world’s reserves of freshwater, and presents the highest endemism of any freshwater body. The only species of freshwater seal in the world lives on its shores, and the purity of the lake’s water is legendary. Besides its scientific and ecological values, Lake Baikal is a spiritual, cultural and popular icon. After a prolonged environmental struggle, from the 1960’s onward, to protect the Lake from a destructive pulp and paper mill the soviets decided to build on its shore, Lake Bajkal made it into the World Heritage List in 1996, five years after Russia had gained its independence. Lake Bajkal was inscribed in the World Heritage List on the basis of all the four criteria that identify the outstanding universal value of a natural property. After being spared the threat of annihilation at the end of the Soviet military-industrial complex, though, the Lake now faced the assault of the new forces driving the Russian transition: the international geopolitics of natural resources. Russia’s quest for development and to occupy again a privileged place on the international arena was based on the country’s vast natural resources. In this perspective, an ambitious plan unveiled by President Putin was to build a pipeline that would carry the country’s oil east, to the shores of the Pacific Ocean, for the international export market. The Trans-Siberian pipeline would be the responsibility of the Russian oil company Transneft. According to the plan, its route would bring it almost on the shore of Lake Baikal, in one point at a mere 800 meters from it (UNESCO 2006). In 2004, the World Heritage Centre and IUCN were informed of the pipeline, and the threats associated with it. The region in which Lake Baikal sits is a highly seismic area, and the risk of a major earthquake damaging the pipeline and contaminating the Lake irreversibly with the oil runoff was serious (UNESCO 2006). Studies suggested that in case of an accident, up to 4000 tons of oil could have reached the Lake, and the leak would have reached the shores in as little time as 20 minutes. This would have made it impossible to intervene in case of an accident to avert a catastrophe. Furthermore, the statistics of accidents on other pipelines belonging to Transneft suggested a risk of one accident every two years, on average. In total, the pipeline

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would cross the Lake Baikal basin for 323 km, and of these, 123 km would be directly on the territory of the World Heritage nomination. (UNESCO 2006). The World Heritage Committee requested that a “reactive monitoring” mission be conducted in Russia, and at the invitation of the State party a joint UNESCO/IUCN delegation went on a fact- finding journey to Russia, in October 2005. In addition to a series of other issues concerning the management and effective protection of the Baikal World Heritage area – such as the adoption and the implementation of a Baikal law which would set the frame for the management of the World Heritage area; the issue of pollution originating from the pulp mill still operating at the site of Baikalsk since the Soviet times and of pollution originating from the Selenga River; the question of effective monitoring to be funded and carried out regularly in the World Heritage property; and the issue of tourism development and management; the main issue on the agenda of World Heritage Committee mission was the Siberian Pipeline. The conclusion of the Committee left no doubt about that. It was decided that if the construction of the pipeline according to the route crossing the Lake Baikal basin and posing an irreversible threat to its outstanding universal value and integrity was carried out, it would result in the inscription of the World Heritage property in the List of World Heritage in Danger. The Director General of UNESCO would contact the President of the Russian Federation to inform him of the matter and to appeal to the State party not to approve the planned route for the pipeline (UNESCO 2006). The determination of the oil company Transneft to go ahead with the construction of the pipeline according to the contested route was galvanized with the approval of the project by the Rostekhnadzor, the environmental watchdog of the Russia Federation (Radio Free Europe, March 6 2006). The threat the new Russia posed to Lake Baikal, more than 30 years after the fist spate of controversy over its future erupted in the Soviet Union, seemed to outweigh even the worst Soviet practices. On March 9, 2006 the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation rejected an appeal by environmental groups, concerned about the risk the pipeline posed to the Lake and demanding its rerouting (Radio Free Europe, 9 March 2006). The fate of Baikal appeared sealed. But on April 26, 2006 the unexpected happened. President Vladimir Putin, speaking at a conference in Tomsk, Siberia, in front of the cameras declared that the pipeline would have to be moved away from the shores of the Lake. In a highly theatrical way, Putin marked with a pen on a map an alternative route, passing some 40 km north of Lake Baikal. “If there is even the

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smallest, the tiniest chance of polluting Baikal, then we must think of future generations and we must do everything to make sure this danger is not just minimized, but eliminated”, he commented (Radio Free Europe, 26 April 2006). Lake Baikal had been saved, again. It is difficult to evaluate the direct influence of the UNESCO stance on the matter, and whether Putin acted more on the awareness of the Russian obligations under the World Heritage Convention, or because of the popular protests that accompanied the issue of the pipeline until few days before his coup de theatre in Tomsk (Radio Free Europe, 18 March 2006). If one can assume that at least some influence on the resolution of the dispute was exerted by the UNESCO intervention, Lake Baikal provides yet another insight into the question of effectiveness of the World Heritage Convention, and on the actual mechanisms it possesses to enforce the obligations of the State parties towards the requirements of conservation. The case of Lake Baikal provides an opportunity to reflect on the List of World Heritage in Danger and its effectiveness as a means of pressure and a tool to push State parties to compliance. It also highlights once again the power of symbols and icons in the modern environmental disputes, and how icons, and symbols, transform local disputes into international controversies, which put at stake the credibility, the accountability, and the prestige of institutions, bureaucracies, and in the end, of a country. National prestige, the symbolic value of World Heritage status and at the same time the difficulty to assess the real influence of the Convention are recurring topics of the “dilemma of effectiveness”. Other important functions of the World Heritage Committee are indicated in the Operational Guidelines (UNESCO 2008): - to identify, on the basis of the Tentative Lists and nominations submitted by State Parties, cultural and natural properties of outstanding universal value which are to be protected under the Convention, and to inscribe those properties on the World Heritage List; - to examine the state of conservation of properties inscribed on the World Heritage List through processes of Reactive Monitoring and Periodic Reporting; - to decide which properties inscribed on the World Heritage List are to be inscribed on, or removed from, the List of World Heritage in Danger; - to decide whether a property should be deleted from the World Heritage List; - to define the procedure by which requests for International Assistance are to be considered;

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- to determine how resources of the World Heritage Fund can be used most advantageously to assist State Parties; - to seek ways to increase the World Heritage Fund; - to submit a report every two years to the General Assembly of State Parties and to the UNESCO General Conference; - to review and evaluate periodically the implementation of the Convention; - to revise and adopt the Operational Guidelines. From this overview, the central role of the Committee appears clearly. It is the Convention’s main decisional organ and, despite being a “political” body in that it is composed of representatives of State Parties, it has acquired a highly technical profile, and it has managed to maintain the pre-requisites of “objectivity and scientific methods” the Convention foresaw.

The World Heritage List: iconic power

In reality, the “List” comprises four different lists; the main criterion for the creation of the different lists was the divide between cultural and natural heritage, which in the early stages of the life of the Convention was particularly significant. Nonetheless, the reason why the final Lists are four is the inclusion, in addition to a cultural heritage list and a natural heritage list, of a List for “mixed heritage”, and a List for the World Heritage in Danger. The criteria that shape the cultural and the natural World Heritage have already been exposed. As far as the “mixed heritage” is concerned, the Operational Guidelines (2008) indicate that properties can be inscribed as mixed heritage if “they satisfy part or the whole of the definitions of both cultural and natural heritage laid out in Articles 1 and 2 of the Convention”. The fourth List is the List of the “World Heritage in Danger”. As already mentioned, placing a World Heritage property in the List of endangered sites is not just a technical matter, but it can have significant “political” value, as the life of the Convention has so far demonstrated. It is the World Heritage Committee to be responsible for decisions concerning the “World Heritage in Danger” List. For this purpose, it has clear rules and procedures to follow, and certain conditions must be met for a property to be inscribed in this List. As specified in the Operational Guidelines (2008, section IV.B):

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- the property under consideration is on the World Heritage List; - the property is threatened by serious and specific danger; - major operations are necessary for the conservation of the property; - assistance under the Convention has been requested for the property; the Committee is of the view that its assistance in certain cases may most effectively be limited to messages of its concern, including the message sent by inscription of a property on the List of World Heritage in Danger and that such assistance may be requested by any Committee member or the Secretariat. This last condition has far-reaching meaning and consequences. There we find the “political” dimension of the List of the World heritage in Danger. As recognized by the Committee, in some cases the “message” that a property may be inscribed in this List can be an effective tool to address the threats to it. It is especially the case of threats caused by the State or by local policies, which can contradict the international responsibility demanding the State’s commitment to the protection of its World Heritage properties. The power of any member of the Committee, or of the Secretariat itself, to demand this kind of intervention, is the single most significant tool of pressure that the international community can use in order to push State Parties to comply with the Convention’s requirements, and to fulfill its goals. It is also the only significant case of external interference in the State sovereignty that the Convention allows. While in all other matters regarding properties located on their territories, State parties have full responsibility and only their will can activate the Convention’s mechanism, in this case the Committee can be asked to intervene vis-à-vis a State Party by a different member, or by its own impulse. There is yet another type of “List” we have not mentioned, but which plays an important role in the overall functioning of the World Heritage regime. It is what the Convention calls “Tentative List” (Operational Guidelines 2008, section II.C). The tentative lists are basically planning tools. They contain those properties that a State party considers potentially of World Heritage value. Such properties will be assessed and eventually submitted to the World Heritage Committee for inclusion in the World Heritage List. Given the time frame of the Convention, the slow process by which the Committee examines a submission, evaluates its foundation and then issues a decision, as well as the growing number of States realizing the potential of the Convention and willing to have places of their own declared as World Heritage, the Tentative List can also be seen as a useful inventory of the places that one day might well increase the World Heritage

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endowment of a State. The State parties have the obligation to periodically review the Tentative List, in light of progresses in the scientific tools for the evaluation of World Heritage values or of changes in its criteria. According to IUCN (2006), the main issues affecting tentative lists are the poor technical quality of many of them and the bias towards cultural properties, and it is important that these issues be addressed because tentative list are regarded as an important element in the process that identifies the outstanding universal value and ultimately ensures the representativeness, balance and credibility of the World Heritage List. As it emerges clearly from this overview, the powers at the disposal of the Convention are fairly limited. The mechanism of the List of World Heritage in Danger doesn't represent per se a substantial power of enforcement, being limited to a psychological pressure on the State Parties and on the responsiveness of the latter to the challenge of the downgrading of its property or of its removal, in the most extreme cases, from the World Heritage List. This leads to an important conclusion. The Convention’s strength cannot be found in its legal powers, which are not uniquely compelling, nor particularly significant. What represents the real asset of the World Heritage conservation system is its iconic value, its psychological and cultural influence. The true dimension in which the effectiveness of the Convention resides is culture. It is a cultural regime of conservation. For this reason, the only cultural paradigm of conservation – wilderness – can still play a relevant role within the system. Its iconic value and cultural strength are excellent matches for the nature of the World Heritage idea, and for its regime.

Summary

The notion of Outstanding Universal Value, which defines World Heritage, is a cultural idea that has a strong original link to the wilderness idea. The Western tradition of conservation, which had in wilderness its oldest and most ‘cultural’ principle, converged in the notion of World Heritage and shaped its character. The iconic dimension of World Heritage value is the clearest witness to this history. The combination of anthropocentric and bio-centric criteria and the mention of integrity as a crucial requirement for World Heritage value are also clear legacies of the wilderness tradition. The development of the Convention into a scientific and technical

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conservation system, though, favored the notion of representative heritage over that of iconic places, and the universal aspiration over the original notion of outstanding character. This meant that wilderness was never adopted by the Convention as a reservation criterion, and that even the cultural link to the wilderness idea was progressively abandonment with the evolution of the Convention into a more technical system of conservation. The stigma attached by the international conservation community to the wilderness idea, and the adoption of contemporary paradigms such as biodiversity, transformed the Convention into a highly specialized pillar of the global architecture of nature preservation, removed from the wilderness legacy. This introduces the question of the effectiveness. The argument here is that the Convention’s biggest asset is its iconic and cultural dimension. The predominance of State Parties within its system highlights a structural weakness, which is only partially balanced by the role of the World Heritage Committee. The absolute principle of State sovereignty clashes with the principle of responsibility. It also determines a situation where the real dimension of the World Heritage Convention is the national one. The Convention is what the implementation of its principles makes it inside the national borders. In some cases, by translating the Convention’s goals into compelling national laws, countries have made it into a highly effective conservation system. This is the case, notably, of Australia. In other cases this hasn’t happened, and the fate of World Heritage properties remains dependant on the steady good will of the national government. This has led in two cases – the Arabian Oryx Sanctuary in Oman and the Elbe cultural landscape in Germany – to the extreme measure of the deletion of the properties from the List, the biggest failure for the Convention. The real strength of the regime is found in psychological and cultural factors, such as the mechanism of the List of World Heritage in Danger. Because the cultural and iconic sphere is still crucial to the success of the World Heritage, the missing link with wilderness represents a loss for the system. The fact that the cultural dimension is predominant in the question of the effectiveness of the Convention suggests that wilderness as a reservation criterion could still play a crucial role in strengthening the case for the success of the Convention. Wilderness is the most cultural of all conservation paradigms. To the idea of wilderness is linked that perception of nature as grand, outstanding, unique. It is the notion that has inspired nature conservation for over a century, and it is still very much a valid, current reservation category, which in several countries has an official status or an unofficial influence.

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It is also acknowledged internationally, through the IUCN classification system of protected areas, ad as such it is present in many different cultural contexts. In one case in particular, the association between wilderness and World Heritage has proved this case beyond any doubt. Tasmania is a model case study for the effective linkage between the World Heritage conservation system and the category of wilderness as a reservation paradigm. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area is probably the world’s most successful example of a complete symbiosis between the two ideas - wilderness and World Heritage – and it demonstrates how in the reinforcement of the iconic element the two concepts can achieve the highest degree of effectiveness, in two crucial spheres in which the World Heritage alone has been revealed as originally weak: the political and policy-related outcome of reservation; and the financial contribution to it. By being associated with the wilderness values and myths, the Tasmanian World Heritage saga has displayed the powerful alliance between two cultural ideas in all its potential. It has achieved the goal of preserving disputed lands, to which primary industries had a long-standing and well-backed claim. It has reshaped the political map of Australian conservation and it has paved the way for the Convention to play a major role in it. It has conquered the sympathy and support of a vast public opinion. It has, also, created a concrete opportunity for the economic profitability of conservation, thanks to a tourism appeal which has contributed in a decade to the transformation of Tasmania into one of Australia’s premier tourism destinations, and into one of the world’s most recognizable wilderness tourism meccas. This success has overturned all the weaknesses and dilemmas that have been exposed and analyzed above. It has done so by the simple association of a cultural system of conservation – he World Heritage Convention – to a cultural paradigm of reservation – the wilderness idea - from which the same Convention had emerged and with which it shared many principles and goals. The iconic value – identified here as the Convention’s major asset – within this association has been able to operate at its best. The lessons from this case study give wilderness another chance to be considered as a suitable criterion for World Heritage reservation. Actually, as the single criterion with which the Convention has the clearest genetic affinity. In turn, such synergy can transform the convention into the world’s main framework to address the preservation of remaining wilderness areas.

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CHAPTER V

The political effectiveness of the synergy between Wilderness and World Heritage

The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area has been the most contested of Australia’s World Heritage sites (Hall 1991; Kellow 1989; Boer 1992). Its history coincides with the history of wilderness preservation, and it represents one of the world’s greatest case study of environmental politics, so much so that “the complete and continuous dominance of the political agenda by the ‘environment’ probably makes Tasmanian politics unique in the world in this respect, and sustained disputation over wilderness preservation has had a dramatic impact upon the customary political cleavages, both ideologically and sociologically” (Hay and Haward 1988: 435) . Its contemporary mythology was born on the pink quartzite shores of a glacial lake, deep in the heart of the South West wilderness region, where a National Park existed since 1955 to protect what was considered as the jewel of the wilderness: Lake Pedder. Its consecration occurred later on the shores of the Franklin River, flowing “untrammeled” through the heart of Western Tasmania, in the last stronghold of a threatened, wild country.

Birth of an icon: from Lake Pedder to the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area

The Franklin River is a cause célèbre. Hailed in the environmental mythology and in the popular culture as the last ‘wild river’ of Tasmania, it has been at the centre of the most important, fierce and long lasting environmental dispute in the history of Australia, a dispute that has also produced the most enduring consequences both in political and legal terms (Hall 1991). As Hay puts it “this was a uniquely divisive issue. It clove the politically unsophisticated community, setting parent against offspring, sibling against sibling. And the saving of ‘the last wild river’ was only made possible by Australia’s signature upon the World Heritage Convention, for this provided the Commonwealth with the (disputed) constitutional authority to overrule the State of Tasmania” (Hay 1994: 6). The clash between conservationists and developers officially erupted in October 1979, when the HEC – the Hydro-Electric Commission of Tasmania – unveiled its plans to dam the Franklin

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River, to implement the Stage II of a massive project of hydro-electric development. The Stage I of the project had already been carried out in 1972, with the construction of the Gordon Dam and the flooding of Lake Pedder. This event represented the first environmental battle that shook the foundations of the Australian environmental and development politics and policy. In order to understand the interests, the passions, and the principles at stake in the fight for the Franklin, it is useful to recall briefly what the controversy about Lake Pedder had been about. The roots of the bitter confrontation between the reasons of conservation and the drive for development in Tasmania date back to the beginning of last century. A marginal State with the weaker economy among Australian States, Tasmania adopted then a policy which received the name of hydro-industrialization (Thompson 1981). It involved the creation of the foundations for a growing industrial economy, thanks to the generation of cheap hydro-electric power, which would attract manufacturers to the State and provide jobs and growth, not only in the industry itself, but also through the process of infrastructure building, such as the construction of dams and power schemes (Kellow 1989). The body responsible for the implementation of the policy was the Hydro-Electric Commission, or HEC. Soon enough, the interests of the HEC focused on a part of the State that had escaped settlement, colonization, and development: the South West. Regarded as a compact, true wilderness region (Waterman 1981), the South-West was known principally for its rugged beauty and scenic features. At the heart of the region was a lake of extraordinary beauty, Lake Pedder, celebrated by many for its almost mystical and spiritual value and transformed into an inspiring icon by the work of photographers like Oleg Truchanas. Such qualities of Lake Pedder were the reason for its inclusion in a national park in 1955, which bore the name Lake Pedder National Park and had an extension of 23.880 hectares. The potential for recreation was high: “There was little doubt that the lake was one of the principal scenic assets of Australia” (Davis 1974: 43-44). In 1963, the Tasmanian Government funded the construction of a road deep into the preserved area. It was the beginning of the end for the Lake. The road was the access point for the implementation of the hydro-industrialization project in the South-West, of which the Stage I involved the damming of the Gordon River and the flooding of Lake Pedder. While it was to become the source of a huge regional, national and international controversy, the Stage I of the hydro-industrialization project also clearly implied in its name that in the future there would be

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more to come (Kellow 1989). Conservationists in Tasmania challenged the plan, and what is perceived as the first Green Party in the world – the United Tasmania Group – was formed to this end. Pressures for an enlargement of the area protected in a national park led in 1968 to the proclamation of a South-West National Park. But it was only an apparent success. In May 1967 the HEC’s Report on the ‘Gordon River Power Development Stage One’ had been presented to the Parliament. It outlined that Lake Pedder would be flooded in the frame of the hydro-development project. The “Save Lake Pedder National Park Action Committee” was formed in response, and engaged in a militant campaign which prompted the Parliament to create a Select Committee of Inquiry. Then in 1972 the Committee brought the fight to the mainland, on the occasion of the federal elections (Hall 1991). The elected Labor Government tried to intervene in the Pedder controversy. The unique characteristics of Tasmania’s environmental disputes were already emerging in this first clash over conservation valued and development needs which revolved around the fate of Lake Pedder. Such characteristics are a political convergence between the Tasmanian Labor and Liberal parties, which in Tasmania do not reflect the traditional divisions that are present elsewhere, particularly in terms of environmental awareness. In Tasmania, as a socio-economic reality dominated by primary industries and by Unions, the reasons of development, industrial interests and corporative pressures are predominant. The other critical feature of the political and social background to environmental disputes in the Island State is the iconic and symbolic image of the places that are disputed – in a word, the crucial theme of wilderness and its values. In the case of Lake Pedder, this mystical status was created though writings and photographic works by well-known activists and intellectuals: “The subtle and mysterious beauty of the place held an attraction which transcended the sum of its scientific values” (Gee 2001). Also, two opposed weltanschauungen confronted each other, from Lake Pedder on: the vision of a human society in harmony with the environment, and consequently a more just, righteous and worthy society; and a vision more pragmatic and concrete, in which symbols and icons were less important than growth, development, and industrial interests. A classic theme of environmentalism all over the world, which in Tasmania became quintessential. In the words of Richard Flanagan, a prominent Tasmanian intellectual: “From the beginning Lake Pedder was much more than a shallow sheet of water with a sandy rind. To fight for Pedder un-flooded was the symbol of what Tasmania

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could be: free, unfettered, a celebration of intrinsic beauty. Pedder flooded was the symbol of what Tasmania was in reality: unfree, imprisoned, entombed...the idea of Pedder as metaphor for a free Tasmania was a consistent theme” (Flanagan 1990: 196). A third crucial characteristic is the division of powers in the Australian Constitution, according to which the States possess most powers in matters of resources use and environment – with Tasmanian governments being traditionally inclined to defend this power at any cost. Such political dynamics served conservationists a painful defeat. The Tasmanian Government refused the offer of compensation made by the Commonwealth if it agreed to put the hydroelectric scheme on hold. Lake Pedder started disappearing under the waters of the new manmade impoundment. “In the end, it was not economic rationality or aesthetic qualities that counted, but the narrow perceptions of a bureaucratic juggernaut and the obstinacy of a politician whose pride had been hurt. No clearer example exists of the manner in which technocratic decision-making and political expediency outweighs long-tem considerations in Australia’s natural resources management” (Davis quoted by Hall, 1991). To conservationists around the world, the loss of Pedder was a tragedy of great proportions. Contrary to the claims of the HEC that the ‘enlarged’ Lake would still be a beautiful place, for those who fought for the original Pedder to be preserved this was a catastrophic development, which reflected the prophetic words of one of the people that had more contributed to the making of Pedder into an international icon, Oleg Truchanas: “When it is ‘modified’, as it is called, into a big inland sea, it will not be a more beautiful lake. It will be an artificial man-made pond in the middle of the natural wilderness area. It will affect, in my thinking, the entire atmosphere, the entre make-up of the South West” (Truchanas 1971, quoted in Brown 1985: 16). The same consideration, with a different wording, was echoed in the milieu of wilderness science. The inundation of Lake Pedder dealt a serious blow to wilderness quality and preservation in Western Tasmania. According to Kirkpatrick, it caused the single biggest loss of wilderness areas in the region, which was threatened with annihilation. According to him, the combined impacts of the proposed hydro-electric in the Western wilderness of Tasmania and of the activity of the forestry industry would have resulted in the loss of more than 60% of the entire wilderness area of the South-West (Kirkpatrick 1979).

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What the loss of Lake Pedder did achieve for the cause of nature conservation, though, was the awakening of a new generation of conservationists, more willing than ever to avoid in the future similar outcomes. Hall (1991) compared the significance of the controversy over Lake Pedder to the Hetch Hetchy dispute in the United States. He also commented: “Despite the eventual flooding of Lake Pedder and environs, the campaign was in many ways a victory for conservation...the issues raised in the campaign to save the lake placed wilderness preservation in the national political agenda as never before...the need to construct environmental policy on a national basis was one of the critical points to emerge from this period....Although Lake Pedder was lost, the campaign marked the turning point in Australian wilderness preservation” (Hall 1991: 149-150). The Lake Pedder controversy was the background to yet another fierce environmental dispute that soon after was to be fought in Tasmania: the battle for the Franklin River. Some aspects of the latter recall the experience of Lake Pedder: the convergence of politics and policy between the Tasmanian Labor and Liberal parties in matters of development and environmental preservation, with the reasons of development being privileged; the transformation, through an eminently cultural process, of the disputed places into icons, symbolic spaces where a human made perception of nature dominates, with the attribution to it of spiritual, mystical and aesthetic values. What changed, with respect to the Pedder controversy, was the introduction of a variable that in the end produced a totally different result. This variable was the World Heritage Convention, which Australia was one of the first states in the world to ratify after the adoption of the Convention – interestingly enough, on the same year that Lake Pedder was destroyed, in 1972. In 1975, in the wake of the Lake Pedder defeat for conservationists, the Tasmanian Wilderness Society was formed. Only one year later, the scene for another confrontation with developers was set. The HEC presented a report on the Gordon, Franklin and King rivers catchments, and outlined its strategic view of combined hydro-electric development in the region. The plan offered two options: the first one involved the damming of the Franklin River just below the Gordon, and came to be known as Franklin-below-Gordon scheme, or Franklin Dam. The second option called for the construction of a dam on the Gordon River above the Olga River, and was called Gordon-above-Olga Dam. Then in October the HEC 1979 handed in the ‘Report on the

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Gordon River Power Development, Stage Two’. The report recommended the adoption of the first option, the Franklin-below-Gordon scheme. It was an ambitious and highly intrusive development, based on the construction of a dam on the lower Gordon river below its confluence with the Franklin, followed by the damming of the middle Franklin river and the diversion of the waters of the King river in it. Years of political and social confrontation ensued. The dispute sent shockwaves through all the levels of Tasmanian politics and society. The emblematic referendum of December 1981, in which Tasmanians were presented with the choice between the Franklin-below-Gordon dam and the Gordon-above-Olga dam, but were denied a third choice of “No Dam”, saw one third of voters write “No Dams” on their ballot papers. The polarization of the camps was absolute, with the Wilderness Society and its charismatic leader, Dr. Bob Brown, on one hand, and the HEC, the Tasmanian Government and the newly formed Hydro Employees Action Team (HEAT) on the other, pushing for the Gordon-below-Franklin option to be implemented. Several authors have described and analyzed in detail the highly publicized Franklin Dam controversy (Hall 1991; Kellow 1989; Davis 1980; Derrick Sewell et al.1989; Boer 1992; Thompson 1981;). The significance of the association between wilderness idea and World Heritage symbolism is crucial to the scope of this research. The introduction of the World Heritage variable in the conflict proved decisive in overturning the outcomes of the dispute. In 1981, in the midst of the heated confrontation between conservationists and supporters of the Franklin Dam, the Commonwealth of Australia proceeded with its intention to place the region in which the dam was to be built on the World Heritage List (Hall 1991). The nomination for World Heritage, which was accepted by the UNESCO in 1982, comprised three national parks: the Southwest National Park, the Franklin-Lower Gordon Wild Rivers National Park, and the Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair National Park, for a total area of 769,355 hectares. The Commonwealth Government then offered the Tasmanian Government $500 million as a compensation to halt the implementation of the hydroelectric scheme. But as in the case of Lake Pedder, the Tasmanian Premier hastily refused, resenting the meddling of the Commonwealth in what it perceived as an internal affair. The apex of the confrontation was reached in the summer of 1983, with the conservationists staging a blockade of the site of construction of the dam on the Franklin River. The action was highly symbolic and received a huge media attention, involving 4000 protesters, many of which were arrested - among them the same Bob Brown and a botanist

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of international fame, Professor David Bellamy, as well as several members of the Parliament (Hall 1991). “The Franklin blockade was inevitable. It was a confrontation in a wilderness under assault, a clash of attitudes – the culmination of two centuries of both intense loathing and love for Tasmania’s wild lands” (The Wilderness Society 1983). Then the federal election gave conservationists the chance to influence the vote, with an open campaign for the Labor Party which had committed to intervening to save the Franklin River. The victory of Labor gave way to the intervention, on the basis of the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act of 1975 but especially of the passing of the ad hoc legislation “World Heritage Properties Conservation Act”, in 1983. This law changed the constitutional balance of power in Australia, giving the Commonwealth Government the power to intervene in environmental matters when they concern the fulfillment of the international obligations of Australia, such as those under the World Heritage Convention. Unlike the Pedder case, in which all the Commonwealth Government could do was trying to persuade the Tasmanian Government to put on hold the controversial scheme and accept compensation, the Franklin Dam controversy saw the federal government resort to a legal measure, the adoption of the World Heritage Properties Conservation Act in 1983, on the basis of which it intervened directly to halt the construction of the dam on the Franklin River. The decision was challenged by the Tasmanian Government in court. But On July 1, 1983 the High Court upheld the intervention of the federal government, on the basis of the constitutional validity of the World Heritage Properties Conservation Act (High Court of Australia 1983). It was a historic ruling not only for the fate of Australia environmental disputes then and in the future; but also for the history of the World Heritage Convention, because the Franklin Dam case represented the first tangible success of the conservation regime created by the Convention, in which its influence penetrated so deep into the sphere of national politics. The crucial element of this success was the character of the disputed region: it was an iconic wilderness. Such a result had been possible, first and foremost, on the basis of an exquisitely cultural process: the transformation of the Franklin River into an icon. Through the writings of Bob Brown, the photographs of Peter Dombrovsky (Solman, Dombrovsky, Brown 1983), the media relevance of the case, the numerous films ad books and pamphlets distributed nationally and internationally, and the emotionally charged and dramatic actions such as the Franklin Dam

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blockade, all aimed at raising the awareness about the lethal threat hanging over a region of unique beauty and ecological significance, the Franklin acquired the status of a symbol. It was the birth of another icon, which embodied the same values, projections and perceptions that for decades had substantiated conservationism throughout the world, and had given strength and power to the “idea of wilderness” as a place of extraordinary symbolic importance. In the words of a Tasmanian writer who took part in the blockade: “It seems to me now that the river – the River – is not just the Franklin, not just a river. For those of us who have been drawn, often despite ourselves, to its defense, it has become far more than the sum of its parts. For me it is the epitome of all the forests, all the submerged lakes, all the tamed rivers, all the extinguished species” (McQueen, 1983: 2). This cultural process of creation of an outstanding nature, which is perceived as such because of its “naturalness” and wild character, a nature untamed by men and separated by the effects of human exploitation, is a cultural product which is nourished by symbols, icons, values and emotions. It is as irrational as it pretends to be scientific, as human as it affirms its naturalness, as artificial as it proclaims to be authentic. It is the essence, too, of the original idea of wilderness, imbued with Romantic ideals and deeply rooted in the history of European settler’s societies, in which the frontier occupies a central place and is the starting point for the creation of wilderness as the place on the other side of the fence, where man hasn’t arrived yet and nature dominates and rules since the beginning of times. To this vision, which is cultural, icons ad symbols are pivotal. And it is this vision that explained the mobilization in favor of the Franklin – after it had been sanctified and transformed into an icon. In this respect, the inscription on the World Heritage List had been the last step in the sanctification of the Franklin River and its region. The icon was born and had received the official international stamp of “outstanding universal value”. The values of the wilderness and the World Heritage values coincided. Each of the two concepts found its perfect match. The consequent power in terms of images, symbolism and iconic vale was extraordinary. The case for wilderness protection, which in the saga of Lake Pedder was shifted from the regional level to the national arena, with the Franklin jumped to the international dimension. The legal, and the conceptual, instrument of this transformation was the Convention for the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage. It saved the Franklin River, where the

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designation as National Park failed to save Lake Pedder, a few years earlier. The Franklin River gave the World Heritage a prominent profile among conservation systems. What a national park could not achieve – the protection of Lake Pedder – the World Heritage obtained in the case of the Franklin River. And the echoes of the Franklin would resound, from then on, many times in other parts of Australia, where the conflict between conservation and development would trigger the same processes of polarization, myth-creation, and mobilization. The Franklin Dam dispute influenced many other wilderness and World Heritage battles around Australia. “The issue represented the first instance where wilderness became truly a national concern politically, legally and socially...The Franklin Dam decision was a landmark in the evolution of the Australian wilderness preservation. It is not an end but a beginning. The High Court decision opened the way for the Commonwealth government to preserve that part of Australia’s wilderness heritage which is of international, and hence national, significance and which therefore comes under its jurisdiction” (Hall 1991: 154). The adoption of the World Heritage Property Act in 1983, which halted the construction of the Franklin Dam and transformed a disputed wilderness into a nature conservation sanctuary with World Heritage status, represented the first coherent implementation of the World Heritage Convention in Australia. It determined a constitutional revolution in Australia. Until then, States had the power to legislate on environmental matters, which were their exclusive competence. But with the passage of the World Heritage legislation, things changed. A significant portion of competencies related to environmental matters were alienated from State control and the possibility of Federal intervention was sanctioned, because of the obligations of Australia under the World Heritage Convention. This represented the first and biggest political success determined by the declaration of the World Heritage area in Tasmania (Hall 1991; Boer 1992; Kellow 1989; Derrick Sewell 1989). But the political impact of the nomination went beyond the strictly legal sphere. During the Franklin dispute, the wilderness theme emerged as the most significant focus for the conservation movement (Lester 2007). It was an unshakable association between the wilderness idea and the imagery linked to the World Heritage brand which was used by the environmental movement to foster its political agenda and mobilize society. Lester (2007) examines the use of the term wilderness as a political weapon from the time of the Lake Pedder controversy to present. His findings suggest that environmentalists realized the symbolic and

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iconic potential of the wilderness term, and used them intentionally to advance the cause of conservation of what was a typically threatened, disputed wilderness resource. The State media, particularly the biggest newspaper, The Mercury, throughout the Franklin dispute resisted the attempts to make wilderness a mainstream concept. Other national newspapers such as The Age instead favored this development, until eventually the message of the wilderness passed. Its iconic value proved to be an invaluable asset. It was helped by images of wild places, such as the famous Rock Island Bend picture of Dombrovsky, which became the internationally-recognized symbol of the threatened Franklin River (Lester 2007). Another striking feature of the World Heritage conservation outcome in Tasmania is the resilience of the protection afforded by the Convention. The intervention of the federal Government in the matter of the Franklin Dam signaled that World Heritage properties were an exception: the history of revocation in Tasmania’s national parks is very eloquent in this respect. The development of forestry into a major industry over the course of the 20th century saw many occasions in which national park status was revoked to accommodate industry interests. It happened three times in the Hartz National Park, between 1939 and 1943 – twice for mining and once with the excision of 1214 hectares for logging; twice in the Cradle-Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park, for mining and hydroelectric developments; it occurred again in Mt Field National park in 1949, where almost 1600 hectares of the best forests of the park were excised (Buckman 2008); it happened again with the flooding of Lake Pedder, which in theory was a National park itself since 1955; it was contemplated in the Franklin Dam development, which would have flooded huge areas within the Wild Rivers National Park. Nothing such has happened or could happen in the World Heritage Area. The halting of the construction of the Franklin Dam is a proof of the fact that World Heritage, in Tasmania, has become the highest standard of protection.

The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area: an overview

The World Heritage area that was declared following the Franklin Dispute was much smaller than what it is today. In 1982, the nomination of the “Western Tasmania Wilderness National Parks” included three National Parks: Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park; The

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Franklin-Lower Gordon Wild Rivers National Park; and the Southwest National Park. Together, these areas covered 769,355 hectares. The nomination for World Heritage described it as “one of the last remaining temperate wilderness areas in the world” (Australian Heritage Commission 1981:2). The region satisfied all the four criteria set out by the Convention to identify outstanding universal value of natural properties. According to the nomination (Australian Heritage Commission 1981: 15-18), criterion i was satisfied because the property “is representative of a major stage of the earth’s evolutionary history and contains the most glaciated area in Australia”. For criterion ii, “the nominated region is an outstanding example of one of the few remaining temperate areas which is of sufficient size for natural processes to continue. The geology and climate of the three Parks have resulted in a unique environment which contains 83% of Tasmania’s wilderness area”. Criterion ii was enhanced also by the particular mosaic vegetation of the region, with the main vegetation types being identified as temperate rainforests, sedgelands, and alpine heaths. “An impressive tract of Nothofagus cunninghamii lowland rainforest occurs along the Lower Franklin and Lower Gordon Rivers...Tasmania has custodial responsibility for maintaining Australia’s last remaining large areas of cool temperate rainforest”. As for criterion iii, it is probably the single most defining element that characterizes the history, the perception and the image of the Tasmanian wilderness. It is the aesthetic value of the site. “The region contains unique, rare and superb natural features and areas of exceptional natural beauty. Virtually all other areas in the temperate zone have been so substantially modified by man that their pristine wilderness characteristics have been destroyed...It is a region so diverse, wild, distinctive and spectacular it would b an arbitrary exercise to list particular landscapes as outstanding”. This description is the quintessential embodiment of the anthropocentric values of the most classic wilderness idea. Finally, criterion iv refers to the biodiversity value of the region, which is recognized as hosting “a diversity of habitats where populations of rare and endangered species of plants and animals still survive”. The Tasmanian Wilderness received World Heritage status also on the basis of cultural values, particularly Aboriginal cultural and archaeological sites in caves on the Franklin and Gordon rivers, together with historic remains of European colonization. It is consequently a mixed property, possessing both natural and cultural outstanding universal value, and fulfilling cultural criteria iii, iv and v (UNEP-WCMC 2009).

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In 1989, the environmental movement in Tasmania achieved a landmark victory. Following a Green Independent-Labor Accord, the Field Government agreed to a major expansion of the World Heritage area, which was renamed as Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. Its size more than doubled, to 1,38 million hectares. It now represented 20% of the landmass of Tasmania – a relative extension that has no match anywhere else in the world. The new World Heritage Area was much closer the ideal wilderness that environmentalists has in mind in their fight for the reservation of World Heritage value lands in the State. Furthermore, the essence of the World Heritage area was confirmed to be its wilderness character. In the assessment of the values of the region in 1989, IUCN noted its undisturbed wilderness character and the importance of the extensive tract of tall eucalypt forest contained within it. In 1999, a comprehensive management plan was adopted for the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999). Following the 1989 extension and the outcome of the Regional Forest Agreement of 1997 (DAFF 1997), the new composition of the World Heritage region comprises: State Reserves/Game Reserves: Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park, with an area of 161,000 hectares; Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park, with an area of 440,105 hectares; South-West National Park, with an area of 605,000 hectares; Walls of Jerusalem National Park, with an area of 51,800 hectares; Hartz Mountains National Parks, with an area of 7,140 hectares; Mole Creek Karst National Park (part), with an area of 790 hectares; Devils Gullet State Reserve, with an area of 806 hectares; Liffey Falls State Reserve, with an area of 20 hectares; Macquarie Harbor Historic Site, with an area of 15,300 hectares; Farm Cove Game Reserve, with an area of 1720 hectares. Conservation Areas: Central Plateau Conservation Area, with an area of 89,070 hectares; Adamsfield Conservation Area, with an area of 5,400 hectares; Marble Hill Conservation Area, with an area of 77 hectares; Maatsuyker Island, with an area of 180 hectares;

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St Clair Lagoon (includes 14 ha vested in HEC), with an area of 254 hectares; Southwest Conservation Area (two parcels at Scotts Peak, vested in HEC), with an area of 616 hectares; Meander Forest Reserve, with an area of 1,660 hectares; Liffey Forest Reserve, with an area of 1,055 hectares; Drys Bluff Forest Reserve, with an area of 680 hectares. Aboriginal Land Wargata Mina Cave, with an area of 155 hectares; Central Plateau 5 blocks, with an area of 330 hectares; Lake Murchison (vested in HEC), with an area of 32 hectares. The total area of the TWWHA is approximately 1,383,865 hectares. In addition, 21 areas have been included in the Management Plan, because the resulted from the Regional Forest Agreement of 1997and the related Regional Forest Agreement (Land Classification) Act 1998. Such areas are not part of the World Heritage nomination but the goal is to include them in the future within the UNESCO designation. To present, this inclusion hasn’t been implemented. The additional areas are:

National Parks additions: Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park Dove River, with an area of 320 hectares; Mersey Valley, with an area of 108 hectares. Franlklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park Beech Creek and Navarre Plains, with an area of 841 hectares; Counsel River, with an area of 141 hectares; Beech Creek-Counsel River, with an area of 3,927 hectares; Tiger Range, with an area of 1,140 hectares; Nelson Falls, with an area of 325 hectares. Southwest National Park Hartz ‘hole’ and southeast of Cockle Creek, with an area of 3,298 hectares;

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Little Florentine River, with an area of 821 hectares; Styx River, with an area of 1,008 hectares; Blakes Opening, with an area of 3,715 hectares; Cook Rivulet, with an area of 335 hectares; Farmhouse Creek, with an area of 334 hectares; East Picton, with an area 405 hectares; Hastings Caves, with an area of 1,254 hectares; D’Entrecasteaux River, with an area of 1,446 hectares; Catamaran River, with an area of 394 hectares. The total for these areas is 20,114 hectares, of which 19,165 hectares were added as a result of the Regional Forest Agreement of 1997. The wilderness character of the TWWHA has been strengthened by the progressive extension of its area. The integrity of wilderness has been enhanced. The zoning principles (Fig. 2) for the TWWHA take into consideration the following elements: “World Heritage and other natural and cultural values, wilderness quality, drainage catchments, sensitive environments, tourism and recreational attractions, existing patterns of use, access and pre-existing authorized uses. The major zones reflect the two broad management objectives of protection/conservation of values and presentation to visitors. Zone names have been chosen to indicate the appropriate level and type of management input for recreation and tourism rather than the environmental, wilderness or cultural qualities of the zones. Application of the zoning scheme to the WHA has in certain places resulted in a gradual progression of zones from more developed through less developed to undeveloped, but in other areas (such as where a walking track passes through an otherwise undisturbed area and it is not considered appropriate to develop side tracks in the future) a juxtaposition of disparate zones occurs (e.g. Wilderness Zone beside Recreation Zone). In these cases the application of a gradual progression of zones has been deliberately avoided in the interests of maintaining the wilderness quality of the WHA. In more remote parts of the WHA application of the zoning scheme largely reflects maintenance of the status quo. This is in keeping with the objectives to maintain natural processes and wilderness quality. However, more accessible locations in the WHA have been zoned to enable future expansion of appropriate recreation and tourism activities” (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999: 54-55).

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Wilderness is acknowledged as a crucial pillar of the identity of the World Heritage property in many ways. One is obviously the name itself, which highlights the wilderness element and its association with the World Heritage concept. The description contained in the Management Plan of the natural landscape also stresses the typical attributes – both anthropocentric and bio-centric – of the wilderness idea: “Tasmania’s magnificent natural scenery has long been a source of inspiration for visitors and today it remains the principal motivation and source of enjoyment for visitors to the WHA. Much of the area retains its pre-European settlement character. The geological and glacial events that have shaped the land, the climatic patterns and the results of Aboriginal occupation have combined to produce a varied and outstanding landscape. The significance of this is recognized by the area being accepted against the world heritage criterion for ‘superlative natural phenomena, formations or features’. Sheer quartzite or dolerite capped mountains are prominent features. Deep lakes, created by glacial action, are perched amongst many of the mountain ranges. On the Central Plateau thousands of lakes, tarns and pools contribute to an alpine environment unique in Australia. Rivers have cut deep gorges through mountain ranges while in the South West, extensive lowland plains extend between mountain ranges. The south and southwest coasts consist of bold headlands interspersed with sandy beaches and rocky coves. The forms, textures, colors and juxtaposition of vegetation types within the area contribute significantly to landscape diversity. The vegetation of the area consists of a mosaic of communities including towering eucalypt forests, tracts of rainforest, button grass plains and alpine meadows. The natural beauty of the area is largely derived from the naturalness, diversity and spatial relationships of landform and vegetation” (Parks and Widlife Service 1999: 91). The definition of wilderness adopted for the TWWHA considers three classic elements of wilderness identification: size, naturalness and remoteness. In recognition of the Aboriginal presence and role in Australia, the naturalness requirement is referred only to the lack of disturbance from “colonial and technological society”. In addition, the naturalness of the area is not considered as an absolute vale. The definition of wilderness takes into account the fact that virtually no wilderness exists in a totally pristine state, and that factors such as pollution or climate change impact upon wilderness areas worldwide. A wilderness area within the TWWHA must be (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999: 92):

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- Of sufficient size to enable the long term protection of its natural systems and biological diversity; - Substantially undisturbed by colonial and modern technological society; - Remote at its core from points of mechanized access and other evidence of colonial and modern technological society. The importance of the wilderness element in the overall composition and perception of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area is also evident in the new zoning of the TWWHA that has been introduced by the revised Management Plan (2002). As the map shows, the zoning identifies most of the property as being wilderness (source: Parks and Wildlife Service 2002):

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Fig.2: TWWHA Zoning, Parks and Wildlife Service 2002

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As indicated in the Management Plan, three goals guide the management objectives of the wilderness zone (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999: 57): - To allow natural processes to operate with minimal interference. - To retain a challenging unmodified natural setting that suitably experienced and equipped people can visit for wilderness recreation and scientific purposes. - To use wilderness as a primary means of managing, protecting and conserving World Heritage and other natural and cultural values. The progressive enlargement of the TWWHA has also simplified and consolidated the land tenure (Fig. 3), as shown below. The map also sows the extension stages of the property, and the location of the above-mentioned 21 areas that are part of the management plan but still not included officially in the World Heritage property:

Fig. 3: Land Tenure in the TWWHA, Parks and Wildlife Service 2004

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The natural values of the present day TWWHA are summarized effectively in the Management Plan (1999): “The outstanding natural values of the Tasmanian Wilderness WHA include glacially-formed landscapes of exceptional beauty such as Cradle Mountain, Frenchmans Cap and the Arthur Ranges; an impressive assemblage of karst and erosional features; pristine catchments where natural processes continue; living evidence of the previous existence of the supercontinent Gondwana; a profusion of threatened, rare and endemic plants including the native conifers, Huon pine (Lagarostrobus franklinii) and King Billy pine (Athrotaxis selaginoides); a complex mosaic of vegetation, including moorland, rainforest, alpine, eucalypt and riparian communities; undisturbed stands of the world’s tallest flowering plant (Eucalyptus regnans); an assemblage of the world’s largest carnivorous marsupials, the Tasmanian devil (Sarcophilusharrisii), the spotted-tailed quoll (Dasyurusmaculatus), eastern quoll (D.viverrinus); two of the only three surviving species of monotremes — the most primitive group of mammals in the world — the platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus) and the shortbeaked echidna (Tachyglossus aculeatus), and rare and threatened species such as the Lake Pedder galaxias (Galaxias pedderensis), Pedra Branca skink (Niveoscincus palfreymani) and orange bellied parrot (Neophema chrysogaster). The Tasmanian Wilderness WHA is of immense importance to native species as an undisturbed natural ecosystem where biological, ecological and evolutionary processes can occur largely free from interference by humans. Not only are the natural values of the Tasmanian Wilderness WHA of scientific, educational and recreational importance to the world community but many believe they are also of intrinsic value in themselves. The area is therefore of significance at all levels as a place where the rights of nature are recognized and respected. In a national context the WHA is significant as one of the largest conservation reserves in Australia. It is noted for intrusions of Jurassic dolerite not found in Australia outside of Tasmania; the most extensive glacially-formed landscapes in Australia; important karsts features such as caves that are amongst the longest, deepest and best decorated in the nation; it contains a significant proportion of Australia’s cool temperate rainforest and snow country; and is the stronghold of many animals that are extinct, rare or threatened on the mainland of Australia, including the pandemelon (Thylogale billarderii), eastern quoll (Dasyurus viverrinus), broad–toothed mouse (Mastacomys fuscus), and ground parrot

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(Pezoporus wallicus). In the Tasmanian context the WHA is significant because it contains most of the state’s pristine high-rainfall environment; alpine and sub-alpine environment; glaciated landscapes and karstic rocks; extensive unmodified coastal formations; around 20% of thestate’s rainforest; approximately 240 out of a total of 320 Tasmanian endemic higher plant species — of which about half have most of their distribution within the WHA; stands of tall eucalypt forest and secure habitat for many species of animals” (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999: 23/24). The World Heritage area is a treasure trove of some of Tasmania’s most iconic plants. It contains 42% of all King Billy forests, 73% of the rare and rather famous Huon Pine forest, and 70% of deciduous beech communities. Another important feature of the World Heritage area is its Eucalypt forest and woodland, which covers 401.000 hectares and of which more than two-thirds is old-growth forest. The tall old-growth forest, which is the object of most disputes between conservationists and logging industry, is contained within the World Heritage property in a percentage that according to environmental NGO’s represents only 8% of the original extent in 1996 (WHC 2008). If the four types of tall Eucalypt species are considered together, out of a total extent in Tasmania of 237,000 ha (RFA 1997), 90,900 ha or 38% is contained in the TWWHA (WHC 2008). The biodiversity value of the TWWHA is high in terms of representation of flora and fauna, although it is recognized as being relatively low in numbers. The rugged and impervious wilderness regions have traditionally hosted a limited number of animals compared to other areas of Tasmania (Parks and Wildlife Service 2004). The TWWHA is managed jointly between the Commonwealth of Australia and the State of Tasmania, according to an agreement dating back to 1985. A Tasmanian World Heritage Area Ministerial Council was then created to advice on matters related to the management plan and requirements, the financial aspects of it and the scientific studies to be conducted on issues related to the cultural and natural values of the property. A consultative committee was also put in place with “members from the scientific community, Aboriginal community, recreational interests, local government, conservation interests, industry and tourism” (Parks and Wildlife service 1999). The TWWHA is one of the largest World Heritage properties of Australia. Declared in 1982, when the Convention had been in existence for only 7 years, it shows that in this first stage the

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World Heritage regime carried a strong iconic vocation. Its connection to an idea of nature that mirrors the typical approach of the wilderness idea was then evident. This allowed the symbolism of wilderness to become one with the inspirational and iconic power of the World Heritage idea, delivering the miracle of the Tasmanian Wilderness protection. Such symbolic, iconic power has since then influenced Australian wilderness conservation politics and policy, and it still does, as the dispute over the Tarkine region in the North-West of Tasmania demonstrates.

The TWWHA model: influence on the national wilderness preservation politics

The success of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area (TWWHA) has already influenced the course of environmental politics and policy in Australia. Some of the country’s most famous wilderness disputes have been won by environmentalists after the watershed represented by the halting of the Franklin Dam and the creation of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. According to Hall (1991), the implementation of the World Heritage Convention in Australia from the turning point of the Franklin Dam case represents an evident proof of deep transformation of the scope and power of intervention of the Federal Government for the protection of internationally significant wilderness regions. This has been the case in historic environmental conflicts such as the Stage 2 of the World Heritage nomination of the Kakadu National Park region, which saw the adoption of special legislation to overcome the opposition from mining interests to the nomination; and the fight for the protection of the Wet Tropics region in Queensland, which holds most of the State’s remaining tropical rainforest including the Greater Daintree area - the last expanse of virgin tropical rainforest in the continent. Hall (1991) points out that the introduction of the World Heritage variable in Australia has given the Commonwealth government the power to intervene to protect areas included in the Convention system. As a consequence even wilderness areas that are considered as having potential World Heritage value would fall within the sphere of action of the Federal Government, that can override State legislation whenever this posed a threat to the World Heritage quality of a significant wilderness area.

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The impact of the Franklin Dam issue and the World Heritage nomination is not just a matter of history. Its significance and the opportunities it provides are still very much an unfolding story. Wilderness conservation is still a contemporary issue in Australia. The wilderness-World Heritage tandem, in this context, is a model currently in use in the politics of conservation. One notable case of proactive conservation campaign targeting an unprotected wilderness region and using the association between wilderness symbolism and World Heritage brand is the Tarkine, in the North-West of Tasmania (Fig. 4).

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Fig. 4: The Tarkine region in North West Tasmania (Cradle Coast Authority 2008)

A vast wilderness region, the Tarkine has been the object of a prolonged, bitter dispute between natural resource industries and conservationists for decades. Over the last years, the reasons of conservation seem to have prevailed, and approximately 80% of the area has been placed in formal or informal reserves particularly following the outcome of the Regional Forest Agreement (DAFF 1997). The main feature of the region, invoked by conservationists as the reason for its protection, is wilderness. And the instrument sought to ensure an effective and long-lasting preservation of the region is its inclusion in the World Heritage List. In fact, the arguments put forward by the environmental camp echo those in the saga of the Franklin River: the wilderness character of the area, and its associated World Heritage value. It is not an easy task to define the Tarkine. Not only are its boundaries contested and vary according to the criteria chosen to define them; even its name has been unclear for decades and a reason for strong disagreement. For the local grass-root environmental organization devoted to the cause of this wilderness area, the Tarkine National Coalition (TNC), the region occupies over 447,00 hectares of wilderness. The overview this organization gives of the Tarkine also clearly emphasizes the link between wilderness and World Heritage values: “The Tarkine is one of the world’s great wild places. It is an expansive 447,000 hectares wilderness area of recognized World Heritage significance” (TNC 2010). Although with different figures, the World Heritage value of the Tarkine is also emphasized by the Australian Conservation Foundation: “The Tarkine is an approximately 377,000 hectare region in NW Tasmania, bound roughly by the Arthur River to the North, the Pieman River to the South, the Murchison Highway to the East, and the Southern Ocean to the West. The Tarkine is Tasmania's largest unprotected wilderness area. The Tarkine satisfies the entire cultural and natural heritage criterion which makes a property suitable for inclusion on the world heritage list. The Tarkine was first put forward for listing on UNESCO's world heritage list by IUCN (international union for the conservation of nature) in the early 1990s. This was followed by a formal proposal by The Wilderness Society (TWS) in the early 1990s also. Groups that support World Heritage listing for the Tarkine include: IUCN, Australian Conservation Foundation, World Wildlife Fund, Tasmanian

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Conservation Trust, Launceston Environment centre and Tarkine National Coalition. Locals and conservationists have campaigned for protection of the Tarkine since the 1960s. The first formal proposal was put forward by the then Circular Head Mayor Horace (Jim) Lane, who proposed a Norfolk Range National Park…The current proposed Tarkine World Heritage area is 377,000 hectares. The boundaries of a proposed Tarkine National Park are currently being reviewed. Of these 377,000 hectares, 177,000 hectares is rainforest. This equates to 42% of the entire Tarkine area, some 70% of the Tarkine's total forest cover” (ACF 2010). The wilderness character of the Tarkine is also highlighted by Tasmania’s prominent conservation organization, The Wilderness Society, according to which the Tarkine is “Australia’s largest wilderness rainforest” (The Wilderness Society 2010). More in detail, it is “a large wilderness area in the far north-west of Tasmania. It is a special place with large tracts of rainforest, numerous wild rivers, big bare mountains, vast coastal heathlands, and extensive sand dunes and Aboriginal middens fronting Tasmania's wild West Coast. This wilderness covers some 450,000 hectares. Most of this wilderness faces threats from logging, mining and grazing. The Tarkine is bounded roughly by the West Coast, the Arthur River to the north, the Pieman River to the south, and the Murchison Highway to the east. The area takes its name from the Tarkiner people who inhabited the region between 175 and about 30 000 years ago” (The Wilderness Society 2010). The World Wildlife Foundation (WWF) states that “the stunning 370,000-hectare Tarkine region in north-western Tasmania is Australia's largest temperate rainforest area and contains one of the world's last remaining Gondwanic old-growth rainforests. Home to numerous threatened or endangered plant and animal species and with almost no introduced predators, the Tarkine has long held a special significance for Indigenous communities, said to have inhabited the area up to 10,000 years ago. Its lichen-encrusted rainforests, spectacular coastal dunes and heathland, marshes and wild rivers make it a jewel in the crown of the Tasmanian forests, one of WWF's Global 200 priority ecoregions” (WWF 2010). In the now defunct Register of the National Estate, the Tarkine is heritage-listed since 2002. The listing contains a detailed description of the physical and cultural values of the region. Again, the figures on its extension are different than those provided by every other source, but the essence of the area is captured within the same arguments. The Register states that the region encompasses 350,000 hectares, and its main feature is indeed wilderness: “The area contains the largest tract of pristine rainforest in

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Australia and together with the rainforests of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area represents the greatest range in floristic and structural variation of these forests in cool temperate Australia...Most of the Tarkine is in very good condition as is attested to by its wilderness value…The condition and integrity of this place was assessed using the biophysical naturalness scheme adopted in the Tasmanian comprehensive regional assessment. Biophysical naturalness is an indicator of the level of disturbance to the functioning of natural systems on a scale of 0 (high disturbance) to 5 (low disturbance)…97,6% of the area has a biophysical naturalness rating (BN) of 5, 0,7% has a BN of 4, 0,6% has a BN of 3, 0,6% has a BN o 2, and 0,4% has a BN of 1” (DEWHA 2010). Pristine forests, intact ecosystems, and a vast uninhabited territory – the Tarkine embodies a quintessential wilderness. Despite the great variety of definitions and the diverging delineation of the area’s boundaries, all the above-mentioned description agree on this point, the Tarkine is first and foremost a wilderness, and that its values are outstanding and can aspire to be recognized as possessing World Heritage significance. So strong is the wilderness theme here that the Tarkine has been often compared to other great, iconic wilderness reserves in the country - such as the Kakadu or the Wet Tropics (Cradle Coast 2008). For many decades the Tarkine was virtually non-existent. It was a “forgotten wilderness”, an unnamed place on the physical map of Tasmania, for which extractive industries had plans – but so did the conservation movement. It was indeed the latter who “named” the Tarkine. After the Franklin Dam saga, it became clear how names and identities had an enormous importance for the cause of nature preservation. According to Lester (2007), the Green movement attached the uttermost importance to naming places, and demonstrated an uncommon mastery in doing so: “Before and during the Franklin campaign, the environment movement had reassembled the meanings and resonance that surrounded ‘wilderness’, and by the end of the campaign…it was clear the movement’s strategy had succeeded. The strategy remains in use. In the decades following the Franklin blockade, naming and renaming to capitalize on pre-existing cultural resonance or to mould developing symbols and meanings have remained important for the Tasmanian environment movement…the Tasmanian environment movement, from its earliest days, became aware that it needed to harness the symbolic qualities of contested places and it often did so by naming or renaming them. The Franklin campaign pioneered the early use of the strategy” (Lester 2007, p. 90). This

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proved to be a milestone for the Tarkine. As Lester recalls “Brown also pushed for a consolidating name for an unnamed area in the north-west of the State, which included an archaeologically rich coastal area known as the Arthur-Pieman after the rivers that bounded it, an inland rainforest threatened by logging and road building. No name had been applied to the 377,000 hectares area before as a whole” (Lester 2007, p. 92). The Wilderness Society chose a highly evocative and mysteriously enticing name, with clear aboriginal connotations. Its pre- European resonance reconnected the area to a longer history, stretching thousands of years – and even more, to the times of Gondwana, when the stunning endemic vegetation took shape. It sealed the claim to the uniqueness of the region, its coherent identity, its wholeness, and its relevance for conservation. The name was a success, and no one disputes “The Tarkine” as a consistent, evocative and appropriate name for Tasmania’s last unprotected wilderness anymore. What is still disputed, instead, is the use of the region. At least three episodes have put the Takine in the spotlight, over the last decades. The recurring theme is the threat logging poses to the rainforest. This was a particularly heated topic when Forestry Tasmania announced in 2002 plans to lift a 20-year logging moratorium on the “deep red myrtle” rainforest in the heart of the Tarkine. Known as the Savage River Pipeline rainforest corridor – from a mining pipeline which crosses the rainforest and transports ore from a mine in the Savage River area – and with an extension of about 20,000 hectares, the deep red myrtle rainforest represents the best example of tall temperate rainforest in Australia (The Age, 30/11/2003; ABC 22/11/2003). The threat to the most valuable forest within the Tarkine marked a climax in the conflict over this piece of wilderness in the north west of the State. Related to the forestry debate, the other main issue was road building. It has twice attracted the attention of the public opinion. The first time, a plan was drafted to bulldoze a road through the then intact area. Dubbed “the road to nowhere”, and fiercely opposed by conservationists, the road started to be built in 1985. Suspended under the Labor-Green accord of 1989, construction was then resumed in 1995 and completed in 1996 (TNC 2010). While these threatening events unfolded, the movement to preserve the region gained momentum. In 1990, proposals for the World Heritage listing of the area were put forward, with the support of the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), which renewed calls for a World Heritage nomination of the Tarkine in 1994. The appeal for World Heritage

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listing has always been the centerpiece of the campaign for the long-term protection of the area, along the lines of the history of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, to which the Tarkine was seen as a necessary addition. In 2002, the Tarkine was listed in the Register of the National Estate, and in 2005 Federal Premier John Howard delivered on his electoral promises by placing an additional 70,000 hectares of rainforest under protection in formal and informal reserves (TNC 2010). Although this move reassured the public over the threatened logging of the rainforest corridor, the conflict over the Tarkine was far from over. Few crucial issues remained. First, the level of protection afforded to the rainforest was weak and inconsistent. No National Park was created there, but instead a network of disconnected formal and informal reserves, around which logging was to continue, degrading wilderness values and compromising the integrity of the area (Fig. 5).

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Fig. 5: The reserve system in the Tarkine (Cradle Coast Authority 2008)

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In addition, another major dimension emerged and influenced in a decisive way the Tarkine saga: tourism. The Franklin Dam and the nomination of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area in the 1980’s produced a phenomenal development of ecotourism in the West of the State that became the gateway to the World Heritage region. The fortune of Strahan as a wilderness gateway was a lesson that Tasmania learned quickly. Tourism soon turned into the new mantra for the Tarkine. With this in mind, at the beginning of 2009 the Tasmanian Labor Government announced a controversial and costly project: the completion of a “loop road” that would allow visitors to drive self-sufficiently through the Tarkine. A budget of 23 million dollars was allocated to the road, and the Government forecast a “tourism bonanza” brought about by the new transport route (The Advocate 1003/2009). What was proposed as a backbone of tourism development, though, to the ears of conservationists was a subtle attempt driven by forestry to open up unlogged public forests that are inaccessible as yet. The interesting element here is that the Tarkine Loop Road divided the Tasmanian society along unusual cleavages. It no longer was the usual barrage from the Wilderness Society, the Greens and their supporters. Many tourism operators, and some councils of the region, joined in the opposition to the road. In favor were the Circular Head Council, which encompasses many of the towns bound to become the tourism gateways along the Loop Road, and the Waratah/Wynyard Council, in the territory of which other potential gateways sit close to the boundaries of the Tarkine. The latter, though, in the end voted against the loop road, signaling a changing attitude of the local communities towards the issue. Many in the already established business community in the Tarkine voiced deep concerns, because their businesses relied on the wilderness brand of the region and a road didn’t fit in it (ABC 22/05/2009; The Australian 15/11/2008). Ecotourism, rather than mass tourism on four wheels, was the formula for success, according to tourism operators (ABC 4/02/2009). The position of the Tourism Industry was also dubious of the benefits of the road. The Tasmanian Tourism Industry Council didn’t support the road, and the Cradle Coast Authority, which oversees the development of the North West and includes the representation of Tourism Tasmania for the region, chose to oppose the project, on the ground that a Tarkine National Park would bring bigger revenues - a tourism plan drafted by the same Authority promised to deliver over $58 M extra tourism dollars (ABC 22/05/2009; Cradle Coast Authority 2008; The Australian 15/11/2008). The West Coast Council, which historically is certainly the least inclined

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to side with the Greens on an issue concerning natural resource industries, surprisingly rejected the road proposal and started lobbying against it, on the grounds that the proposed road bypassed the West Coast towns and deprived them of tourism revenues. The divisions and concerns over the effects of the road on the environment and on the ecotourism business ended up leaving the State Government basically alone in its push to bulldoze further rainforest to complete the Loop road. Its main ally, Forestry Tasmania, didn’t have the credentials to be seen as a genuine tourism supporter and was suspected to have a hidden logging agenda. The approaching of State elections, scheduled in March 2010, determined a major divergence in the agenda of the major parties in Tasmania with regard to the road. To differentiate themselves from the Labor Government, the Liberals announced their opposition to the Loop Road. The Greens, obviously, had always fought against the plan. The Government was isolated, and to complicate things further, the Federal Government intervened. The pressure coming from public opinion and political forces alike had eventually reached Canberra, and once again in the history of environmental controversies in Tasmania, the Federal Government meddled in the State affairs. The tool to achieve the intervention of the Federal Government was the strategic focus put on one particular issue, which was an underlying circumstance in the Tasmanian environmental policy debate. One of the State’s most iconic animal species, the Tasmanian Devil, over the last two decades suffered a major setback that pushed it to the brink of extinction. A deadly Facial Tumor Disease decimated the wild population, wiping out over 70% of its state-wide and up to 90% in the Eastern half of the State, where the diseases made its first appearance. The wilderness character of the Tarkine, through its isolation and intactness, protected the local devil population from the disease. The North West region, in fact, possesses the only devil population that is free of the disease. Environmentalists pointed out that the Loop Road would be the death sentence for the Tasmanian Devil, because by opening up pristine wilderness regions it would spread the disease to the last healthy devil population in Tasmania. Thanks to its wilderness character, the Tarkine turned into the last refuge for the biggest Tasmanian draw card in terms of brand, tourism, and worldwide fame – its iconic wildlife. These concerns prompted the Federal Government to fast-track the process of nomination of the region to the National Heritage List, started in 2007. On the 11th of December 2009, the Environment Minister announced it would use its emergency powers to list the area as

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National Heritage. This has profound implications. Although on one hand it does not automatically stop the road from being built, it represents a symbolic victory for the environmental camp. It also makes it more difficult for the state Government to proceed with the construction, because the emergency listing means that the road will be assessed against the criteria and regulations contained under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation (EPBC) Act 1999. By September 2010, the Australian Heritage Council will assess the impact of the proposed road on the region, based on the requirements of the EPBC Act. In the meantime, the State elections of March 2010 have dealt another major blow to the project, by depriving the Labor Government of the majority it held for 12 consecutive years (The Mercury 22/03/2010). All these developments have signaled a possible new era for the Tarkine. On the agenda now are the proposed Tarkine National Park, put forward by the Greens and the Tarkine National Coalition, and encompassing 447,000 hectares; the National Heritage Listing of the region, accelerated through the intervention of the Federal Government which used its emergency powers; and the underlying campaign to have the Tarkine listed as a World Heritage area – in favor of which the Senate passed a motion acknowledging the World Heritage significance of the Tarkine (ABC 14/09/2007). The motion of the Australia Senate was unanimously approved on September 13th, 2007. It stated the following (The Senate, 13/09/2007): The Senate: (a) acknowledges the World Heritage significance of the Tarkine wilderness in the north-west of Tasmania; (b) notes that a nomination for the Tarkine to be listed on Australia’s National Heritage list was submitted in 2004; (c) notes the Government has: (i) placed the Tarkine National Heritage nomination on the Australian Heritage Council’s 2007- 08 priority assessment program, (ii) indicated it will thoroughly and carefully assess this complex nomination, including the public consultation required by the provisions of the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999, and

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(iii) asked the Australian Heritage Council also to examine, identify and advise the Minister for the Environment and Water Resources (Mr. Turnbull) of any World Heritage values contained in the areas proposed; and (d) supports: (i) subject to listing, the development of strategic and conservation management plans for any listed areas, and (ii) the development of sensitive and appropriate eco-tourism infrastructure only after thorough assessment of potential impacts on any National Heritage-listed areas under the Act. A nomination to the iconic List of UNESCO is still seen as the culmination of the process to ensure the everlasting protection of the Tarkine, and to multiply the iconic value of its wilderness. A nomination to the iconic List of UNESCO is still seen as the culmination of the process to ensure the everlasting protection of the Tarkine, and to multiply the iconic value of its wilderness. This is witnessed by yet another Senate submission concerning the Tarkine. In March 2008, following a catastrophic fire that ravaged the Tarkine rainforest and was lit on purpose by a motorist crossing the “road to nowhere” or Western Explorer Road, the Greens Senator Christine Milne submitted the following motion (Senate 18/03/2008): Senator MILNE (Tasmania) (3.48 pm)—I move: That the Senate— (a) notes: (i) a bushfire in the magnificent Tarkine wilderness area in North West Tasmania had burnt 1800 hectares by 17 March 2008, (ii) that the fire was started in conjunction with a car accident on the ‘Road to Nowhere’ known as the Western Explorer Road, and (iii) the high risk of fire from opening the inaccessible area to vehicle access was identified by conservationists as a major threat and reason for objection when the road was proposed and approved by the Tasmanian Liberal Government in 1994; and (b) calls on the Government to: (i) urge the Tasmanian Government to close the road and convert it to a world-class cycling and walking track, and (ii) advance the world heritage nomination of the area to secure its permanent protection.

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This motion is a clear indication of how conservationists identify in the wilderness character of the Tarkine its core essence and value, and in the World Heritage the best possible match in terms of preservation framework. The last point b(ii) is emblematic in this respect, in that it calls for the World Heritage nomination as the ultimate guarantee for the protection of such outstanding wilderness.

Global wilderness preservation and World Heritage: opportunities and potential

The Tasmanian case study offers a model to apply to the global politics of wilderness preservation. Its effectiveness can be a reference for the use of the Convention as a tool for this aim. Crucial wilderness regions till exist today, which should be the target of proactive conservation policy. The most comprehensive study of the amount of wilderness remaining globally is the benchmark proposed here in order to grasp the importance of the Tasmanian model in this context. Such study identifies 37 wilderness regions worldwide (Mittermeier et al 2003). The values of wilderness that underpin it refer to the most traditional attributes of the resource, and also add “new” functions that wilderness serves. According to the authors, wilderness regions are crucial for the following functions:

1. As “major storehouses for biodiversity” (Mittermeier et al 2003: 20);

2. In maintaining “globally and regionally significant ecological or ecosystem services” (Mittermeier et al 2003: 21);

3. To “serve as carbon sinks”, a major function that reflects the contemporary issue of greenhouses gases and climate change (Mittermeier et al 2003: 21);

4. As benchmark areas, or “controls against which our progress (or lack thereof) with conservation in hotspots can be measured” (Mittermeier et al 2003, p. 21);

5. As last refuges for tribal people living their traditional lifestyle. This role of wilderness areas is highly symbolic, because it emphasizes that the old contradiction between the wilderness idea and indigenous people has been overcome, and wilderness is in fact an ally of tribal cultures because it provides them with a shelter against the inexorable advance of the technological society; 176

6. As opportunities for economic development through recreational use, embodied by the “wilderness experience”;

7. As places in which people can find aesthetic and spiritual nourishment. This is once again one of the most enduring values of wilderness since the idea was born.

8. As a test for our species to understand and accept the responsibility for maintaining the planet, its riches and balance. In this sense, wilderness preservation is a “moral imperative” (Mittermeier et al. 2003: 24).

The wilderness areas are here organized according to the biome to which each of them belongs. This study acknowledges the difficulty of finding a universal definition of wilderness, given the historical dilemmas that have accompanied the birth and development of the idea. It then sets the criteria used to identify the remaining wilderness regions. The main criteria used hereby are the following (Mittermeier et al. 2003, pp. 39-47):

1. Size. A wilderness area must be “a distinct bio-geographic unit, or a series of units within a biome type that share certain ecological features”. The minimum size of such areas considered here is 10,000 km2, or 1 million hectares.

2. Intactness. This criterion refers to a classic wilderness attribute, and it sets the benchmark to qualify as wilderness at 70% or more of natural remaining vegetation – “meaning that no more than 30% of the region could be destroyed or significantly degraded by human activity”. An added requirement of the integrity criterion is that wilderness areas maintain an “intact faunal assemblage”, with emphasis on large predators and other key species that indicate a lack of hunting impact.

3. Human population density. The maximum density considered for wilderness areas is 5 inhabitants/km2 for the whole region. Urban areas are subtracted from the total. Some regions contain higher densities of indigenous populations, but they are still included as wilderness region and this criterion is not considered to be affected.

4. Biodiversity. This criterion distinguishes, within this research, two types of wilderness areas, the distinction residing in the biological diversity they contain. The cutoff point for

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biodiversity identification is “0,5% of global vascular plant diversity (300,000 species) endemic to the region, or 1500 endemic vascular plant species”.

The following wilderness regions are identified:

Tropical Rainforest (3 areas);

Tropical Woodlands and Savannas (7);

Wetlands (6);

Deserts (11);

Temperate Grasslands (1);

Temperate Rainforest (6);

Boreal Forests (1);

Arctic Tundra (1);

Antarctica (1).

This classification is extremely useful to understand how and where the outlined Tasmanian model of World Heritage wilderness preservation can be applied. At the national level, significant wilderness areas still exist which are unreserved and threatened by economic development in the form of extractive industries such as logging and mining, by agricultural projects and in general by the classic pattern of unsustainable natural resource exploitation. The most notable are the Kimberley region in Western Australia, Cape York in Northern Queensland and Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory – the latter being adjacent to the already existing World Heritage area which encompasses the Kakadu. The Australian Deserts are also identified in this study as a key wilderness region. For some of these regions, such as Cape York Peninsula, ongoing environmental campaigns are being conducted, in which the conservation strategy that was successful in Tasmania – the association between wilderness and World Heritage symbolism – is being proposed (The Wilderness Society 2010).

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At the international level, the above-mentioned study by Mittermerier et al (2003) shows that traditional “wilderness countries” hold a significant portion of the world’s remaining wilderness. Examples of this are the following regions: - Pacific Northwest (Canada/United States); - The Northern Rocky Mountains (Canada/United States); - The Colorado Plateau (United States); - The Appalachians (United States/Canada); - The Mojave Desert (United States); - The Boreal Forests (Canada/United States, together with Scandinavia and the Russian Federation). If the European countries are taken into consideration as contexts in which the wilderness concept can find support and have a similar cultural influence as in traditional wilderness countries, the European Mountains region should be added to the list. Furthermore, despite the Western imprint of the wilderness idea and its explicit development and use being typical of the above-mentioned countries, ideas similar to wilderness have appeared, and thrived in other socio-cultural contexts, for example in the case of Russia. Russia is interesting first and foremost because of its relevance in terms of natural heritage. It is the largest country in the world and it possesses a large chunk of the Wilderness resource, in many cases still intact. It has also a long and distinguished tradition of nature conservation, which dates back to the Russian Empire and has been perfected in the Soviet era. Within this tradition, the single most important concept, which has shaped the entire history of conservation in the Empire and later in the Soviet Union, bears a striking resemblance to the Western idea of wilderness. Such backbone of the Russian network of protected areas is the denomination of “Zapovedniki”. It corresponds to the strictest IUCN category of protected areas: category I. Currently there are 101 zapovedniki, with a global area of 33.5 million hectares. This system of Category I protected areas is unique in the world. The concept of zapovednik has a long and illustrious history. Its origin and development has accompanied the entire history of nature protection in the country (Shtilmark 2003; Weiner 1988; Weiner 2002). The relevance of the zapovednik concept to this research is its similarity, in many respects, to the wilderness idea. There are some crucial differences, too. The main element that distinguishes the zapovednik from wilderness is the absence of any recreation and tourism

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related factor in its development and conceptual underpinning. In fact, zapovedniki do not correspond to category I(b) of the IUCN classification, which refers to wilderness areas. They are category I(a) protected areas: strict scientific reserves. This means that historically, any human use of the zapovednik, other than for scientific research purposes, has been prohibited. Nonetheless, except for the recreational element, the zapovednik is actually a hybrid between category I(a) and category I(b). In the guidelines prepared by IUCN (2008), it is explained that the main difference between the two sub-categories is the fact that scientific reserves are normally small compared to wilderness areas, and have a different focus as already mentioned. But this is not the case with Russian zapovedniki, some of which extend over millions of hectares of what represents wilderness according to the strictest criteria for its identification. A comparison between wilderness and the zapovednik concept has pointed out that despite different origins and philosophical underpinnings, in recent times there has been an evident convergence between the two notions (Ostergren and Hollenhorts 1998). This is also due to the progressive relaxation of the tourism anathema in the conceptualization of zapovedniki, partly because the Russian post-soviet economic reality is not able to provide an adequate level of funding that can support the institution as a pure scientific and conservation endeavor. The debate, in the Russian scientific community, about the benefits and the evils of nature-based tourism in zapovedniki is a core issue of the current direction of Russian conservation policy (Danilina 2001; Stepanizky et al 2003; Stepanizky 2005; Rhodes 2009; Nikitina 2009). On the other hand, nature-based tourism in other denominations of protected areas has a long tradition in Russia and it is a growing trend. Russia possesses today eight properties that are included, as natural or mixed sites, on the World Heritage List. Most of these World Heritage sites are de facto wilderness areas, and their national denomination is that of zapovednik. The potential for the World Heritage wilderness model observed in Tasmania to be applied to a country like Russia is outstanding. There are interesting similarities between the two cases. One is the already highlighted wilderness quality of their natural environment. The other is the strength of interests that compete with conservation goals, namely extractive industries such as forestry, mining and hydroelectricity. Traditionally, the Russian economy was based on natural resources exploitation. In Soviet times, two ministerial giants dominated the Russian economic sphere: Minlesprom, or Forestry, and Minvodkhoz, a

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relative equivalent of the Hydro Electric Commission of Tasmania. Russian wilderness, very much like the Tasmanian counterpart, is caught in the conflicting agendas of conservation and economic exploitation. The symbolic potential of the alliance between wilderness and World Heritage reservation could play a great role in the Russian context. The country has a tradition of symbolism in the perception and interpretation of nature. Just like the United States or Australia, Russia has its national wilderness icons and it has had its Hetch Hetchy and Franklin Dam disputes. Soviet Russia is an outstanding example of this. The longest, fiercest and most controversial social conflict in the former Soviet Union has focused on the classic confrontation between economic development drive and conservation. Two cases stand out in this history: the fight to save Lake Bajkal in the 1970’s, and the famous dispute over the so-called “Perebroska” – the project to divert the Siberian and Northern Russian rivers to provide water to the disappearing Aral Sea between the late 1970’s and the early 1980’s (Zalygin 1987). Termed as “the Project of the Century” (Josephon P. 1985), the river diversion acted as a catalyst for the dissatisfaction of the Russian public opinion with the Soviet rule, and it re-ignited a typically Russian nationalism that identified the national character with the threatened natural heritage – the mighty Siberian rivers, the forests, and the cultural heritage that was slated to be flooded by the artificial canals planned for the water diversion. The contemporary Russian nationalism was born out of this environmental fight. All the usual symbols and icons that have been observed in highly cultural environmental conflicts around the world have been displayed also in the Russian context. Nature has shown its cultural power. And the nature that was at stake was eminently wilderness. Some of those wilderness icons have made it today in the World Heritage List, as Lake Bajkal, discussed in Chapter III. In genera, declared World Heritage wilderness areas as well as unprotected wilderness regions are faced with threats that go from logging to mining to hydroelectric development. It is a challenge but also an opportunity to put to test the usefulness and effectiveness of the combined notions of World Heritage and wilderness, in order for the Convention to be proactive as a tool of conflict resolution and nature conservation. The “proactive” use of wilderness as a reservation criterion for World Heritage properties has also an outstanding potential with regard to the crucial issue of biodiversity. This research has clarified the intrinsic difference between the two notions of wilderness and biodiversity. It has also highlighted that the qualities of wilderness can

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include biodiversity, but that this is often not the case. Russian wilderness, for example, is iconic but not biologically diverse. The country possesses 20% of the world “closed forests” – but most of it is taiga, among the least biologically diverse forest regions. Nonetheless, the above mentioned study on remaining wilderness in the world (Mittermeier et at 2003) identifies 5 areas of the world that in addition to being wilderness regions are also some of the most crucial cradles of biodiversity. These are the Amazon region in South America, the forests of Congo in Central Africa, the Miombo-Mopane woodlands in Southern Africa, New Guinea in South-East Asia and the North American deserts. 76% of the area covered by these eco-regions – with an extension of almost 9 million km2 - is intact. It is also the most vulnerable wilderness on earth, threatened by human encroachment and destructive economic exploitation, particularly logging. The prioritization of such areas in conservation strategies could achieve the double purpose of preserving wilderness and at the same time a crucial part of the world’s biodiversity.

The Southern Forests: the need for a World Heritage wilderness criterion

Wilderness has been crucial in shaping the most intense and successful battle for nature conservation in Australia, which gave birth to the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, but the lack of acknowledgement of wilderness as an official World Heritage criterion on the part of the Convention has also determined a major shortcoming in regard to the question of the effectiveness of the World Heritage conservation system. Because wilderness has been the defining element of Tasmania’s environmental conflict, only a clear, direct reference to wilderness and to its unique characteristics can help the Convention address the remaining disputes that keep such conflict alive to this day. The most instructive example of this is the struggle for the Southern Forests. Despite the TWWHA being one of the largest and most intact World Heritage wilderness areas in Australia, its borders are considered inadequate by many. The protected area, environmentalists argue, is incomplete. Environmental NGO’s claim that a crucial element of the wilderness character of the World Heritage region is missing, and is threatened by logging: the ancient tall forests that border the TWWHA. The Tasmanian forests have always been a key focus of environmental conflict in Tasmania (Buckman 2008; Gee 2001; Routley 1975; Lines

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2006; Hutton and Connors 1999; Ajani 2007). Only briefly, during the disputes over hydroelectric development, did the forest conflict become a secondary matter. But in fact, throughout the 20th century the forests were the core of the environmental conflict in the State. Compared to its size, Tasmania is the most heavily forested of all Australian States. Of approximately 4 million hectares of forests estate, about 2 million hectares are managed as production forests by Forestry Tasmania, the government forestry industry; 1 million ha is comprised of private forests, and approximately 1 million ha is protected in formal and informal reserves (State of the Environment 2003). Tasmania’s forests are diverse. They include dry schlerophyl forests, wet forests dominated by Eucalypt species, and the largest extent of temperate rainforest of Australia. The wet schlerophyl forests and the temperate rainforests are particularly disputed because in addition to their biodiversity value they possess particular aesthetic qualities, hosting the tallest flowering hardwoods on Earth and prized timbers such as the endemic myrtle, which dominates the rainforests as is the case in similar temperate wilderness areas in the Southern Hemisphere – namely in New Zealand and Chile. These forests represent the core issue in the current dispute over forestry activity and the impact on the World Heritage value of Tasmania. The peculiarity of the conflict over the forests since the declaration of the World Heritage area in 1982 has been the fact that it has become an internal dynamic of the World Heritage implementation in Tasmania. The World Heritage Committee has turned into the place where the dispute is assessed and managed. In a pattern that is typical of the confrontational strategy adopted by Tasmanian conservationists, the World Heritage Convention has been invocated as the reason for a review of forest practices and interests and for a better protection of the forests. The main motivation for this is the wilderness character of the World Heritage region: the forests represent a crucial element of the broader wilderness region, and their destruction by logging is a threat to wilderness and World Heritage values (DEH 2007). The crucial point this struggle highlights is the fact that the Convention didn’t grasp the wilderness argument about the protection of the tall forests. It acted as a very scientific, technical conservation regime, which assessed the dispute in terms of figures, statistics and empirical data. The Convention didn’t speak the language of icons and symbols, and this determined the difference in outcomes when compared to the Franklin Dam issue.

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The World Heritage focus of the battle for Tasmanian forests appeared clearly in the second half of the 1980’s, soon after the declaration of the World Heritage area following the Franklin Dam dispute. Buckman (2008) notes that despite the huge increase of the World Heritage area with its extension in 1989, “the expansion did not save all the contentious forests around the State’s southwest wilderness area. At least two-thirds of the southern forests that formed the southeastern flank of the south-west were left unprotected, as were most of the forests that run down the northern escarpment of the Central Plateau” (Buckman 2008: 107). This circumstance soon reignited the fight for the old-growth forests of the Tasmanian wilderness. Of all Tasmanian forests, those that held an extraordinary significance for conservationists were the so-called National Estate Forests. Apart from some forested areas in the North East of the State and along the Western Tiers, the bulk of these forests were the contentious timbered areas adjoining the World Heritage borders, particularly the Lemonthyme forests near Cradle Mountain along the northern border, and the southern forests, along the eastern border of the World Heritage region. In 1985 the Hawke government had renewed the contentious woodchip license, and these forests came to the frontline. No clause for their protection was included in the license (Buckman 2008). Protests turned violent. The symbol of the forest conflict became Farmhouse Creek, an area slated for logging that was blockaded by environmentalists along the example of the Franklin blockade. The confrontations for the Lemonthyme and the southern forests eventually resulted in the establishment of a “Lemonthyme and Southern Forests Commission of Enquiry” (Buckman 2008). It was a crucial moment for the forest campaigns in Tasmania. The importance of the inquiry, known as the “Helsham Inquiry” resided in the fact that the focus of the forest conflict was considerably narrowed down. The disputed forests in this matter were only those adjacent to the World Heritage area. The object of the Inquiry was to evaluate the values of these forests and establish which of them possessed World Heritage value, as a pre-requisite to protect them from logging. The conclusions of the Commission disappointed the environmentalists, since it was ruled that a mere 10% of the forests had World Heritage values. The findings were contested vehemently, including by Graham Richardson, a politician of the Hawke government who sided with the conservationists throughout this period of heightened confrontation over the fate of the forests. Richardson had become federal environmental minister, a position that he used to influence the federal policy on Tasmanian

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contested forests. Eventually, the Helsham Inquiry, its findings and their rejection by the environmental movement became the basis on which the expansion of the World Heritage area materialized in 1989 (Gee 2001; Buckman 2008; Ajani 2007). As noted above, though, the extension of 1989 didn’t appease the environmental movement. It is at this point that the theme of wilderness and World Heritage value re-emerges. The reason why the struggle for the forests didn’t subdue despite conspicuous victories for conservationists is wilderness, in that the unprotected forests that were excluded from the World Heritage nomination are perceived as an integral part of the wilderness value of the World Heritage region. This perception is enhanced by the quality of these forested areas that matches the most typical wilderness image: the presence of Eucalyptus regnans, the tallest flowering hardwood tree on earth. It is a classic example of aesthetic value that becomes the leitmotif for environmental action. Within the Southern forests, some places have a high symbolic value for this reason: the Florentine Valley was known as the cradle of the forest giants, together with the Weld and Picton valleys, and the Styx Valley – the latter being hailed as the last stronghold of the endangered Eucalyptus regnans (Buckman 2009). Indeed, the tall forests of Mountain Ash have been decimated since the European occupation of Tasmania. Of an original cover of 100,000 hectares, only about 13,000 hectares remain. Of these, less than half is formally reserved, the rest being available for logging (State of the Environment 2003). In addition to the already mentioned Lemonthyme forests and Southern forests, the third area on which the conflict has often focused is a remote region that has risen to fame as the Tarkine – a mostly inaccessible region of more than 400,000 hectares located in the North West corner of the State. Despite the significance of the dispute for this remote area of ancient rainforests, its fate hasn’t been part of the World Heritage debate about the forests. The usual theme of the wilderness values and the corresponding World Heritage values of these forests has been predominant also in the case of the Tarkine, but because the region is not contiguous to the World Heritage border, the dossier about the threat that forestry poses to the World Heritage values has been limited to the Southern forests, adjoining the World Heritage region. The complaint about the boundaries of the World Heritage region has accompanied its establishment and it subsequent transformation. The claim rests on the fact that despite the huge size of the region, less than 30% of its area contains forests (Parks and Wildlife Service 2004). If

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on one hand the principal argument is that the wilderness value of the region is mutilated without the forests, what is truly interesting in this issue is the fact that NGO’s like the Wilderness Society have turned to the World Heritage Committee to challenge the logging industry on the basis of the perceived threat of logging to the outstanding universal value – i.e. to the World Heritage value – of the Tasmanian Wilderness. The conflict has been embedded in the functioning of the World Heritage as a conservation system. It has been, in this respect, a World Heritage internal conflict.

The forest failure

The claims of environmentalists about the threat that logging poses to the values of the World Heritage area have been assessed twice by the World Heritage Committee. The first time, in 2006 on the occasion of a meeting in Vilnius, the Committee adopted a decision in which it asked the Australian government to prepare a detailed report addressing the claims against the logging industry, and demonstrating how the policy and management of forest operations in the vicinity of the World Heritage Area were compatible with the preservation of its outstanding universal value (WHC-06/30.COM/7B). It is significant that the focus of the conflict concerned the question of the integrity of the TWWHA. As already noted, integrity is the closest notion within the World Heritage system to the idea of wilderness as whole and intact. Point 3 of the decision of the World Heritage Committee “notes the concerns expressed by NGOs in relation to the impacts of logging adjacent to the World Heritage property and the potential for this activity to compromise options for future extensions to the World Heritage property”. In response to this decision, the Australian Government issued a detailed report on the crucial issues of forestry in areas adjacent to the World Heritage (DPWE 2007). The government report contains a summary of the claims of NGOs with regard to forestry operations (DPWE 2007, appendix A). The main complaints concerned the location of the additional reserves identified by the Regional Forest Agreement in 1997. Most of these reserves, according to the NGOs, are not adjacent to the World Heritage border. On the other hand, significant forests possessing World Heritage value are open to logging operation, particularly in “the Beech/Counsel River area, the Wylds Craig/Lower Florentine area, the Gordon and Tiger Ranges, the Upper Florentine, the upper

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Styx, the Middle Weld, the middle Huon, the Picton Valley, Southeast Cape, the Navarre Plains/Mt Rufus area, part of the Great Western Tiers and the Upper Mersey”. The mentioned areas “are all part of one of the world’s greatest temperate wilderness areas and should be treated as a unified whole with the TWWHA”. Other sources of concerns were the supposed intensification of logging in these significant forests, the practice of regeneration burning which carried the risk of fire escapes into the World Heritage property, the road construction operations, the closeness of several coupes to icons of the World Heritage region (such as new logging coupes 2/3 km from Lake St Clair), the threat to important karsts systems and other Aboriginal cultural heritage, the threat to the tall trees and the inadequate assessment of the impacts on endangered and threatened species. Finally, the complaint about the promised extensions of the area of protected forests in two iconic areas of southern forests – the Florentine and the Styx valleys - made by the Government in 2004 (18,700 ha) only 25% was delivered (4,730 ha). The newly reserved areas, furthermore, were small and scattered and had a weak level of protection as informal reserves. The Report of the Australian government denies such claims, on the basis of the various stages through which a Comprehensive, Adequate and Representative system of protected areas (CAR) as mandated by the Regional Forest Agreement of 1997 has been established, and of the Forest Practices Code in force in Tasmania, which supposedly ensures best practices and the sustainability of the industry. The conflict was far from over at this stage. The claims of several environmental groups – the Wilderness Society, the Tasmanian Conservation Trust, the Tasmanian National Parks Association, the Huon Valley Environment Centre, Camp Florentine, the Australian Conservation Foundation and Environment Tasmania – continued. The UNESCO went on a fact-finding mission to Tasmania, which took place on 15-20th March 2008. It was led by Kishore Rao from the World Heritage Centre, Nikita Lopoukhine from IUCN-WCPA, and Kevin Jones from ICOMOS (WHC 2008). According to the mission background document, the main claims of NGOs concerned three factors: the under-representation in reserves and more general threats to old growth, tall wet Eucalypt forests; the build-up of road networks and logging in proximity to the property; and the risk posed by fire use in regeneration treatments of logged areas adjoining the property” (WHC 2008: 3-4).

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The summary of the reasons of the environmental camp is a clear indication of a further narrowing of the dispute, now confined to the threat posed by logging to the wilderness values of the World Heritage region. The focus on tall wet eucalypt forest, as already noted, is motivated by the integrity of the wilderness region and by the aesthetic values of such forests, which are crucial for the iconic value of the site; the roads destroy the wilderness value by providing mechanized access and by damaging the visual qualities of the whole region; and fire is the main threat to the ecological integrity of the area. The mission report highlights the fact that the conflict is not over the management of the TWWHA itself, but rather “Australian and Tasmanian non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have repeatedly raised concerns over the management objectives and logging practices of adjoining areas, as being detrimental to the heritage values within and outside the property” (WHC 2008: 7). More specifically, the report goes on, “the boundaries of the TWWHA, particularly to the north and the east, have been a contentious issue ever since the inscription of the property in 1982 and its further extension in 1989, as has been the management of old growth forests which occur outside the property in these areas...The NGO groups’ views are that these forests, which are characterized by old growth tall stands of Eucalyptus regnans, E. Delegatensis, E obliqua and E. Nitida, are of World Heritage value...The NGOs have long held the view that the areas where they occur adjacent to the boundary in the east and the north should be added to the World Heritage Area, because these forests communities have outstanding universal value and are inadequately represented inside the property” (WHC 2008: 13). It is interesting to note that as the report mentions, “Tall Eucalyptus forests were identified as an aesthetic value (natural criterion – iii) in the IUCN evaluation of the property on its extension in 1989” (WHC 2008: 15). The mission report considers the issue of the boundaries of the TWWHA as a measure of it ecological integrity, considering also new knowledge and concerns such as climate change, invasive species, connectivity and the integrity of ecological processes. The scientific focus of the UNESCO mission is evident, and it represents a proof of the argument discussed in Chapter III about the two different stages in the life of the Convention. The first was marked by an iconic vocation, which fully reflected the World Heritage concept and its original link to the wilderness idea. In this stage, the Franklin Dam issue was solved in the name of symbols and icons. It was the period in which the cultural dimension of the Convention was

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predominant. The second stage saw the abandonment of wilderness and a prevalence of scientific conservationism over the cultural and iconic dimension. The outcome was an inappropriate response to highly politicized and cultural disputes, such as the one over the Tasmanian forests. The conclusions of the UNESCO mission were disappointing for the conservationists. In its recommendations, the mission report concluded that the state of conservation of the property was overall satisfactory; that no extension was necessary in order to protect the cultural or natural outstanding universal value of the TWWHA; that enough tall forests were “represented” within the TWWHA; that the logging practices in areas adjoining the boundaries of the TWWHA are sustainable enough. The only concession the UNESCO mission made to the conservation reasons was the request to proceed with the inclusion in the TWWHA of the 21 areas covered by the Management Plan of 1999 but not officially added to the World Heritage property. The result was disappointing even when compared to the previous decisions adopted by the World Heritage Committee itself on the issue of the forest conflict in Tasmania. In 2006, the already recalled Committee decision noted “the concerns expressed by NGOs in relation to the impacts of logging adjacent to the World Heritage property and the potential for this activity to compromise options for future extension to the World Heritage property” (WHC 2006, point 3). In 2007, another Committee decision noted “with concern” the issues raised by NGOs” (WHC 2007b, point 3). The mission of March 2008 was a defeat for the supporters of further extension of the World Heritage boundaries. The significance of the mission lies in the circumstance by which the entire process of conflict resolution rested within the World Heritage Convention mechanisms. On the other hand, it confirms the leitmotif of the fight for the tall forests of Western Tasmania - their wilderness value, which is invoked as the perfect match for World Heritage recognition – and the failure of the Convention to address namely this aspect of the conflict. In this respect, it demonstrates the key point of this research: the loss of the link with the wilderness idea determined a weakness and the ineffectiveness of the Convention in a context where wilderness is the defining character of the natural heritage at stake. The focus on the “representation” of tall forests in the World Heritage area is the sign that the Convention failed to grasp what the issue was about: it was about wilderness, not representation. Wilderness was to be whole, or otherwise it would be mutilated. There appears to be a gap between the reasons of the conservation camp and the

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approach of the Convention. It highlights an impoverishment of the cultural dimension of the latter, due to the abandonment of wilderness and its underpinning notions. The replacement of the “iconic” with the “representative”, indicated in Chapter IV as a rejection of the original wilderness imprint, has led to a failure in addressing a crucial conservation issue in a context where only the Convention had the power and status to put an end to a long-standing environmental conflict over iconic natural heritage.

Summary

The extraordinary saga of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area demonstrates the potential effectiveness of the World Heritage Convention as an instrument of wilderness preservation. It shows the affinity between the iconic power of the ideas of wilderness and World Heritage, and the extraordinary success a synergy between the two can achieve. Tasmania’s disputed lands were quintessential wilderness regions: scenic, rugged, beautiful and inspiring. Their anthropocentric values are matched by the outstanding character of the eco-centric qualities – naturalness, ecosystem integrity, biodiversity value, unmodified ecology. The intrinsic and perceived value of Tasmania’s wilderness found in the World Heritage a perfect match. World Heritage values coincided entirely with wilderness values, ad enhanced each other. This alliance produced, against all odds, one of Australia’s most well-known and admired World Heritage properties. It also created a model and a benchmark for successive struggles for wilderness preservation, both at the national and international levels. The case of the Tasmanian wilderness and its preservation as a World Heritage property has important ramifications. It can serve as a model for the use of the Convention as a proactive tool of wilderness preservation on a global scale. Nationally, the model is already being used throughout Australia, in regions like the Tarkine in Tasmania, Cape York in Queensland and the Kimberley in Western Australia. At the international level, fertile ground exists in other traditional wilderness countries such as the United States, Canada, and New Zealand, given the similarity of ideas, processes, factors and actors to those observed in Tasmania. It also possess outstanding potential to be applied to contexts which have an a social, cultural, economic and political affinity with the traditional wilderness countries – such as European nations, former British colonies worldwide and places

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where the wilderness idea has not had an official history, but corresponds to “local” views of nature and environmental conservation paradigms. An outstanding example of the latter is Russia, with its “zapovednik” model of nature conservation. The World Heritage Convention is also best suited to influence wilderness protection in most countries and cultures of the world, where it is already successfully present and implemented and held in high consideration for its cultural appeal and prestige. The Convention can be the global tool for the prioritization of wilderness as a conservation criterion, and of wilderness regions as crucial “target areas” for proactive conservation strategies. The Tasmanian case study has also provided an opportunity to highlight the consequences of the fact that wilderness has not been included as a reservation criterion for World Heritage, through the lenses of the State’s most enduring environmental conflict: the battle for the Southern Forests. The Convention has had such an impact in Tasmania that historic disputes such as the forest conflicts have now been embedded within its overarching mechanism. The World Heritage Committee has become a key player in some of Tasmania’s most sensitive environmental issues. On the other hand, the Convention has failed to solve the forest conflict precisely because it did not treat it as a wilderness conflict. It focused on scientific notions and paradigms, while the issue raised by the NGO’s was about the inclusion of what was perceived as a crucial element of the wilderness character of the TWWHA – the tall forests that possess an iconic value and are essential for the integrity of Tasmania’s wilderness region. This makes Tasmania the most striking example of the natural power of the association between wilderness and World Heritage, but also of the ineffectiveness that is determined by the lack of official acknowledgement of this potential on the part of the Convention. Without recognizing wilderness as a reservation criterion, the World Heritage system fails in those contexts where no better criterion than wilderness can represent and embody the natural values of a disputed region, as the forest conflict shows. Another proof of the importance of the wilderness match for World Heritage reservation comes from the economic sphere. What remains to be analyzed is hence the economic consequence of the creation of a unique World Heritage wilderness property in Tasmania. Because one of the key arguments in the confrontation between environmentalist and industrial interests has been the economy – development versus conservation – an overview of the impact and of the

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effectiveness of the World Heritage declaration would not be complete without a look at the economic side of the question. In this respect, the highlight is the role of the wilderness values, enhanced by the World Heritage brand, in the tourism development in Tasmania. The best place to assess this role is the region that has positioned itself as “the gateway to Tasmania’s wilderness”: the West Coast.

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CHAPTER VI

World Heritage wilderness as an economic development opportunity

Ecotourism, wilderness and Tasmania’s brand

Ecotourism is a sub-sector of the world’s largest industry, and it is worth between $US 10 billion and $US 200 billion per year, depending on the exact definition of ecotourism that is employed in order to quantify its contribution to the global tourism industry (Borgerhoff Mulder, Coppolillo 2005). This is the first issue when it comes to understanding the scope and features of ecotourism: a broad consensus on a definition doesn’t exist. Fennell (2003) suggests that as a practice, ecotourism is certainly older than conservation itself. For many centuries people have travelled to natural areas for inspiration, curiosity, spiritual quest or education. Conservationism has grown side by side with human use of natural resources, including access to them for visitation and leisure (Fennell 2003; Adams 2004; Vale 2005). Roughly 10% of the earth surface is today part of the global system of protected areas (IUCN 2008). Of this, up to 85% is open to human use of some kind (Naughton-Treves et al 2005). Ecotourism as a branch of an industry and the object of research has emerged from the 1970’s, with some authors attributing the term to Ceballos-Lascuráin, in the early 1980’s (Fennell 2003; Thompson 1995). Contemporary scholars tend to agree in differentiating between the general concept of nature-based tourism, which encompasses any form of tourism relying on visitation and enjoyment of underdeveloped natural resources, and eco-tourism, which is defined by some key characteristics: an educative purpose (learning about nature and conservation through visitation), a minimal impact on the natural areas that are visited (the sustainability component of ecotourism) that implies the crucial factor of management, and a direct or indirect contribution to the wealth of local communities and consequently to the conservation of their natural resources as a source of sustainable development (Dowling 1995; Filion et al 1994; Harvey and Hoare 1995; Laarman and Durst 1993; Weaver 1998; Page and Dowling 2002; Fennell 2003; Weaver 2006). According to the Ecotourism Association of Australia, nature-based tourism is “ecologically sustainable tourism with a primary focus on experiencing natural areas”, while ecotourism is “ecologically

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sustainable tourism with a primary focus on experiencing natural areas that foster environmental and cultural understanding, appreciation and conservation” (EEA 2000:4). Ecotourism has been the fastest growing sector of the tourism industry in Australia, and Tasmania traditionally receives twice the average amount of nature-based tourism (approximately 30%) than the rest of Australia (Matysek and Kriwoken 1997). Tourism has grown exponentially in Tasmania over the last decades. Surveys conducted soon after the Franklin Dam dispute show a visitation rate of approximately 315,000 tourists in 1984 (Fig. 9, Department of Tourism, Sport and Recreation 1984). Today, according to the figures provided by Tourism Tasmania, the State’s tourism industry has tripled. In 2008 almost 900,000 tourists visited the State. They spent 7.45 million nights, and their financial contribution to the economy of Tasmania was of $1.43 billion dollars (Tasmanian Visitor Survey 2009). Tourism has been the only industry, in 2009, to defy the global economic downturn (Tourism Tasmania 2009). The size and importance of tourism within the Tasmanian economy is now a stabilized factor. In the year from September 2006 to September 2007, for example, 815.200 tourists visited Tasmania, and they spent $1.3 billion dollars (Tasmanian Visitor Survey 2007). Traditionally, the State largest industry has been logging. Forestry contributes to the Tasmanian economy about $1.3 billion dollars – an amount that is now comparable to that of the tourism industry. Tasmania’s brand is that of “a natural state” (Matysek and Kriwoken 1997). Almost 40% of the area of the Island is comprised within national parks and other reserves. The States natural assets are a key component of its tourism brand and image. This is particularly true for the World Heritage area. The Management Plan (1999) acknowledges the predominant role of the Tasmanian Wilderness in the tourism appeal of the State: “The WHA is a lynchpin of the Tasmanian tourism industry. In 1995–96 the WHA was visited by two out of five interstate and overseas visitors to the State. The proportion visiting the WHA varies according to which market segment is being considered; in fact two thirds of the sightseeing and touring segment visit at least one site within the WHA. Comparable information is not available on Tasmanian visitors to the WHA since they are not covered by any routine survey equivalent to the Tasmanian Visitor Survey. Qualitative research conducted amongst Tasmania’s top three market segments in Adelaide, Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne identified, for those who have travelled to Tasmania,

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that the purity of the air, water and natural environment were important strengths which differentiated this State from other Australian States. Furthermore, these people did not expect, and were pleasantly surprised by, the extent and diversity of the beauty of Tasmania. Even for those people who had never visited the State, three of the four symbols by which they identified Tasmania were WHA-related: Cradle Mountain, the Gordon and Franklin Rivers and the rainforests. Clearly, Tasmania’s special qualities are embodied by the WHA” (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999: 121). Indeed, most of the icons of Tasmanian natural environment are contained within its World Heritage Area (Fig. 6).

Fig. 6: Nelson Falls, marking the entrance to the TWWHA from Queenstown on the West Coast

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They have become some of the most popular images of Tasmania and of its tourism brand, relying on the association with nature, pristine environment, unique ecosystems and breathtaking natural beauty. Cradle Mountain (Fig. 7) is the very symbol of nature in Tasmania.

Fig. 7: Cradle Mountain as seen from Dove Lake, TWWHA It sits in Tasmania’s most famous national park, and it is a pillar of the TWWHA. Australia’s most celebrated bushwalking route is the Overland Track. It is a track 70 km long, which leads from Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair, Australia’s deepest natural freshwater lake. The Overland Track rates among the world’s great wilderness bushwalks, and it is situated within the TWWHA. Then there is the Franklin River, which is itself an icon, the fate of which led to Australia’s most significant and influential environmental battle. The Franklin has acquired mythical features in the imagery of wilderness supporters and in the public opinion around the world. Its crucial quality is wilderness – it is a wild river. The Gordon is another wild river and

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despite the impact of the dam which flooded Lake Pedder, and altered the Gordon River by creating Lake Gordon, this river is Tasmania’s largest, and its banks are famous for the dark reflections of the magnificent temperate rainforest on the tannin-stained waters. The Gordon River is an example of the symbolic power of wilderness. It is heavily visited by recreational users, and it is the tenet of the fortunes of Strahan as an ecotourism destination. But its mythology, the beauty of the forests, the role of natural icons such as the Huon Pine ( one of the worlds rarest and longest living trees ) and the history associated with them, are all factors that make the Gordon River one of the most popular tourism destinations in Tasmania. If it is not wilderness itself, it lives off the wilderness character of the surrounding World Heritage region. If the Gordon is a pale but successful reflection of wilderness values, then the South West is quintessential wilderness. It is Tasmania’s wilderness at it best, a place where the true wilderness experience is still possible and where the highest criteria for the identification of wilderness are met. It is a frontier and an icon. It is yet another natural treasure of the World Heritage region, and one of the most powerful symbols that convey the message of Tasmania as a “natural state”. The effectiveness of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area is due to the combination of the tourism appeal of wilderness, and of the advantage of World Heritage areas with regard to tourism potential. A vast literature exists on the economic benefits of wilderness, and one of the major direct contribution of wilderness to the economy is through its recreational value, and associated tourism activity (Tisdell 1978; Morton 1998-1999; Morton 2000; Butler and Boyd 2000; Eagles and McCool 2002; Buckley 2000; Loomis 1991; Clonts 1991; Godfrey and Christy 1991; Loomis an Walsh 1991; Higham 1997; Blamey 1995; Boo 1990; Valentine 1992; Waver 1998). The importance of the wilderness experience and of recreation in the emergence, development and success of wilderness as an idea and a paradigm for conservation has already been analyzed. As for the World Heritage side of the question, the prominence of tourism in World Heritage sites is today acknowledged by the Convention itself, which has developed a framework for tourism management and planning in World Heritage properties (Pedersen 2002), and a corresponding literature is emerging (Buckely 2002; Tisdell 2002; Harrison and Hitchock 2005; Boyd and Timothy 2006; Cochrane and Tapper 2006; Fyall and Rakic 2006). It highlights the link between eco-tourism and conservation in terms of economic development, but also of education, awareness and cultural outcomes, and tackles the management issues for tourism in

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World Heritage sites. What is still being debated is the role of the World Heritage as a tourism brand itself. Buckley (2002) for example analyzes the direct growth of visitation and visitor expenditure at World Heritage sites pre and post listing, and he compares these figures with visitation in other natural areas that are not World Heritage site. The comparison tries to assess how much the World Heritage factor is decisive in the increase of tourism, and how much it is instead just to be attributed to natural tourism growth trends. The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area is one of the case studies considered. One of the major obstacles for this approach is the gap in the available data on visitation. For example, in the case of the TWWHA such data exist since the 1970’s, but they are scattered, they are often only collected at sub-sites and not for the entire property, they lack coherence and the methods utilized for the data collection vary with time. Despite major increases in visitation to the World Heritage area, the author concludes that it is not possible to determine the role of the World Heritage listing (Buckley 2002). Nonetheless, an argument that must be take into consideration when evaluating the role of the World Heritage in the development of tourism is the symbolic value of the brand, and the contribution it can give to the general brand of the place in question. Tasmania is a striking example in this respect. As highlighted above, the influence of the TWWHA on the overall perception of Tasmania should not be underestimated, even though it is hard to find quantitative proofs of it within the scattered data available on visitation of the World Heritage area itself. The fact is that tourism images and symbols do not always correspond to the actual visitation. With wilderness, for example, there is the argument for the enjoyment of its values by proxy. Publications, pictures, documentaries – these are means that convey the wilderness values to people who never actually visit the wilderness. How to ascertain, though, the influence that this sort of indirect fruition has on the decision of people to actually visit a place like Tasmania? The fact that most Tasmanian natural icons are located within the World Heritage area, and that the State tourism image is inextricably linked to its natural heritage, is a hint that a clear link between wilderness, World Heritage status and tourism exists. “The development of nature-based tourism is integral to the future growth of the tourism industry. Tasmania’s Wilderness World heritage Area is the centerpiece of Tasmania’s natural area” (Parks and Wildlife Service 1999). If deriving certainties about the influence of the World Heritage wilderness on the overall

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tourism visitation of Tasmania is not an easy task, there is still one place where such connection is evident. This is the West Coast of Tasmania.

Tourism on Tasmania’s West Coast: a gateway to World Heritage wilderness

If one looks on the internet today for information about the West Coast of Tasmania, one will stumble upon the website of the local government, the West Coast Council. On the backdrop of rivers and rainforests, the very first thing to be visible on the homepage is a banner with the slogan: “The West Coast – Gateway to Tasmania’s Wilderness” (West Coast Council 2009). In a way, this contains the very essence of the topic of the relation between wilderness, World Heritage, and economic development opportunities for local communities. In many respects, the rugged and remote West Coast epitomizes the wild frontier. We are talking about a relatively large region, measuring approximately 10.000 sq/km. A large chunk of it is composed of protected areas, most of which are part of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, particularly the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park, the area of Macquarie Harbor and the Southwest Conservation Area. The natural boundaries of the region are the two mighty rivers: the Gordon (Fig. 8), Tasmania’s largest, and the Pieman.

Fig. 8: The Gordon River 199

Both rivers are famous for their rainforest-covered banks and their dark, tannin stained waters (Fig. 9).

Fig. 9: Rainforest reflected in the tannin-stained waters of the Gordon River

The Franklin River is the background to the East of the West Coast. The region is sparsely populated. Today only about 5500 people live there, scattered in five towns. The biggest and oldest of these is Queenstown. It sits at the western end of the Lyell Highway, which links it to the State capital Hobart, 257 km away. Two thirds of the West Coast population resides there. 40 km further West, on a narrow, windy road that crosses rainforests and button grass plains is the port of Strahan. Less than 800 people are permanent residents of this village. In the tourist season, Strahan’s population more than doubles, and by the end of it the town will have seen on

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average over 100.000 visitors, flocking to Macquarie Harbor in search of the Western Wilderness. To the North-West lies Zeehan, with a population slightly over 1,000. Rosebery is nearby, while towards Cradle Mountain and at the doorstep of the Tarkine wilderness sits Tullah, a tiny settlement that was built to accommodate the workers on the many hydroelectric schemes that dot the Pieman catchment, and is today a sleepy village with a couple of hundred souls and a certain tourism appeal. Finally, on the bank of the Pieman lies Corinna. A former mining town, it is today an ecotourism resort, offering an immersion in some of the most picturesque rainforest of the State. The formula of Corinna as an ecotourism destination is that of a gateway to forested wilderness, away from civilization: there is no phone coverage, and no television. The other feature of the West Coast is its geology - the tallest and most rugged mountains in Tasmania, glacial moraines, valleys and quartzite peaks – and one of the last great stretches of temperate rainforest in the world. The relatively harsh climate, battered by ghastly winds, averages a yearly rainfall of up to 3 meters – second only to tropical Queensland. This is Australia’s wilderness frontier. Even for Tasmanian standards, the West Coast is remote, and mostly wild. The fact that the West Coast Council markets itself as the gateway to Tasmania’s wilderness contains more information than mere geography and natural history. “Gateway” implies access. Access means visitation. Visitation translates as tourism. Underlying the idea of “gateway to the wilderness” is a particular relation between human communities and nature. The latter is a commodity on which the West Coast communities have built a reputation of recreational opportunities and wilderness experience. This hasn’t always been the case. For most of its history of settlement, the West Coast wilderness has represented a mere physical reality. The West Coast of Tasmania has been a place of quintessential clash between man and nature, a place where wilderness has been perceived as alien, and treacherous enemy to subjugate. Settled at first as the ultimate convict site by British colonists, the region was later to become one of the most important mining regions of Australia. Miners and piners – timber getters looking for the precious and legendary Huon Pine - have made most of the history of the region. The mountains of the West Coast revealed a wealth of minerals on the exploitation of which the entire saga of the region’s towns has been founded. Mining has been, for most of the region’s history, the sole occupation of these settlements. It has been their blood and their

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struggle, their fortune and their curse. Many times over a century the fate of these towns seemed doomed, because of the apparent exhaustion of minerals, or because of the volatility of the world’s markets. Several former mining towns such as Gormanston, Linda and Pillinger have disappeared, quickly turning into ghost towns, and stand witness to a tale of pioneer spirit, extreme life conditions, hope and desperation. The backdrop to this saga was always the rugged nature of the West Coast, a nature that has been fought and tamed by means of brute force, in a struggle that has been often extreme and has sometimes produced extreme consequences. Probably the best example of this is the so-called “moonscape” of Queenstown (Fig 10).

Fig. 10: The Queenstown ‘moonscape’

The biggest and most important of the settlements of the West Coast, and one of the most illustrious Australian mining towns, home to the Mount Lyell Railway and Mining Company with over a century of continuous history. Queenstown has paid a high price to development in

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terms of environmental degradation and has come to symbolize the destruction of the environment in the country, the embodiment of environmental disaster in Australia. A copper mining paradise, for much of its history it was also an urban nightmare. In the heart of one of the world’s great rainforest areas, the town has seen trees around it only at the very beginning of its mining history, and then some time after the end of it. The mine’s smelters were fuelled with the wood of the surrounding rainforest, leading to an intense deforestation of the once lush valley in which the town sits; the fumes coming from the smelters’ furnaces produced acid rains which completed the annihilation of the vegetation; the heavy rains typical of this rainforest region of Tasmania washed away the soil, leaving the hills bare, an odd combination of rocks of colors from yellow to orange and red, which replaced the once homogeneous green tone of the rainforest. Millions of tons of tailings from the mine killed the Queen River, which meanders through the town. The Queen River, in turn, proved deadly for the King River which it joins. “By the 1970’s, the barren landscape and the grey river of Queenstown were becoming two of the most photographed symbols of pollution in Australia” (Blainey 1993). What had been created by man’s careless exploitation of natural resources became known as the “moonscape”. And the moonscape of Queenstown witnessed better than any other visual reminder the peculiar mining history of the region. A far cry from wilderness, and pristine nature. Nonetheless, the “gateway to Tasmania’s Wilderness” has been transformed into one of the State’s major tourism hubs. In 2007, for example, out of 815,200 tourists who visited Tasmania, 372.000 visited the West Coast and North-West of the State (Tasmanian Visitor Survey 2007). Strahan is the region’s tourism base. Federal Hotels, Tasmania’s biggest tourism corporation, has chosen the town as the headquarters of its tourism operations, and this has made the fortune of Strahan. Data on visitation to Strahan over the years lack coherence and they are not always available. According to the visitation surveys conducted by Tourism Tasmania, over the period between the year 2001 and this year, the following numbers have been recorded in Strahan (Table 1):

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Table 1 : Visitors to Strahan (Those who stayed at least one night, and those who stopped and looked around but did not stay overnight) 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008

Visitors to Tasmania (age 14+) 530,800 575,600 682,000 760,700 788,000 810,400 824,100 897,000

PLACES STAYED OVERNIGHT ON THIS TRIP

Strahan 96,500 108,300 126,400 112,900 109,500 116,300 118,100 131,200

PLACES STOPPED BUT DID NOT STAY OVERNIGHT ON THIS TRIP

Strahan 24,900 35,100 42,100 49,100 49,600 39,800 29,400 29,600

PLACES STOPPED OR STAYED OVERNIGHT ON THIS TRIP

Strahan 121,500 143,500 168,500 162,000 159,100 156,000 147,500 160,800 SOURCE: TASMANIAN VISITORS SURVEY - JULY 2000 - MARCH 2009

From Earlier Surveys* which may not be comparable, due to changes in methodology:

Visitors to Visitors to Strahan (age Tasmania 15+) (age 15+) 1984 77,600 315,500 1986 91,300 329,500 1988 87,500 406,600 1993 101,900 421,000 *Surveys conducted by Department of Tourism, Sport and Recreation

Table 1: Tasmanian Visitors Survey July 2000-March 2009, Tourism Tasmania 2009

The key tourism product in Strahan (Fig. 11) is wilderness. And the crucial attribute of it is the World Heritage value. The main tourism activities are the cruises on the Gordon River, scenic flights over the World Heritage area - either at the Cradle Mountain end or the Gordon river catchment – and mechanized access to the rainforest around the Macquarie Harbor basin.

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Fig. 11: The waterfront of Strahan

A centerpiece of the tourism experience in Strahan is the Visitor Centre. It is an eloquent introduction to the World Heritage wilderness focus of the region. The Centre itself is an attraction. Created in 1992, since its founding it has been a major asset for the management of tourists in Strahan and to offer visitors an interpretation of the place, the region, its history and values. It is managed by a board which includes the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service, Forestry Tasmania and key stakeholders (Fallon L.D., Kriwoken L.K. 2002). A majority of the interpretative panel about the region’s history, significance and value makes reference to the World Heritage saga, and to the wilderness character of its natural setting. Another proof of the connection between wilderness, brand and tourism on the West Coast is the marketing strategy of Tourism Tasmania. The region has been named for marketing purposes as “The Western Wilderness” (www.westernwilderness.com.au). The background strategy

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document prepared to support the branding process stresses the wilderness elements of the experience. The first point that qualifies the significance of the region is its World Heritage Value. Among the factors that make the uniqueness of the experience, again the first mentioned point is the World Heritage value (First Point 2008). The prosperity of Strahan witnesses the inspirational and iconic power of a synergy between wilderness and World Heritage. The thriving tourism industry draws from the symbolism of both wilderness and World Heritage its strength and appeal. Those who seek a wilderness experience have in Strahan an access point, a gateway. On their way to Strahan, more authentic wilderness experiences can be found, for example at Cradle Mountain or Lake St Clair (Fig. 12), where tourists stop to walk the famous “Overland Track”. This is yet another symbol of Tasmania’s World Heritage wilderness experience. The Overland Track is a 65 km walk through pristine country. In the words of the Parks and Wildlife Service, “The Overland Track from Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair is a true wilderness walk which travels through spectacular dolerite mountains, near beautiful waterfalls, through a variety of fascinating ecosystems and close to Tasmania's highest mountain, before finishing at Australia's deepest lake, Lake St Clair. The stunning scenery and the physical challenges of this mountain walk have ensured that the Overland Track has built a national and international reputation as one of the great wilderness bushwalks” (Parks and Wildlife Service 2010). So popular has the walk been over the years that in 2006 the Parks and Wildlife Service adopted a “Vision for the Overland Track”(2006) which acknowledges the fame and value of the walk, but also considers the dangers it poses to the wilderness values of the region due to the excessive number of bushwalkers tackling it every year. The outcome has been the introduction of a cap to the number of yearly visitors, a booking system to ensure the maximum number of visitors allowed is monitored, and higher fees that are re-invested in the management of the National Park which forms part of the World Heritage property.

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Fig. 12: Lake St Clair, with Cradle Mountain in the background

Strahan is the final destination for tourists visiting the World Heritage region. Its strength is the access it provides to it, as highlighted by the strategic background to the “Western Wilderness” brand of Tourism Tasmania (First Point 2008), which highlights the features of the wilderness experience together with its accessibility and the comfort that the tourism infrastructure can offer: “Only in Tasmania’s Western Wilderness can you experience some of the world’s most beautiful and unforgettable natural wonders and still enjoy the finest of Tasmania’s quality accommodation and fine dining. Take a guided walk along a winding, wooded track to the snow- capped peak of Cradle Mountain. Drink in the stunning natural silence as you take in breathtaking views that sweep through valleys to the distant Southern ocean. Hike through deep, towering rainforests, secluded and majestic, to reach the cascading white waters of the wild Franklin River and Gordon Lake. Cruise the blue waters of Macquarie Harbor through heritage

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listed conservation areas. Finish a day of exploration, adventure and self discovery at the historical bayside outpost of Strahan, gazing out over shimmering waters as the sun set over the old wooden fishing boats” (First Point 2008). The tourism model of Strahan is one in which the iconic value of wilderness merges with the international prestige of the World Heritage brand. Such model has inspired other local communities in the region, particularly the town that has historically embodied the opposite values to those that have made Strahan into a World Heritage wilderness gateway: Queenstown, the capital of the West.

The Queenstown Geopark project: World Heritage, wilderness and cultural change

The wilderness tourism bonanza in the West Coast of Tasmania has largely been concentrated in the port of Strahan. This has had two major consequences. The first is a regional imbalance, by which the bulk of the population, which resides in the other settlements, has only indirectly benefited from the ecotourism development. Towns like Queenstown, Zeehan and Rosebery have remained essentially mining towns, despite a significant “residual” tourism, driven by the new brand of a World Heritage wilderness region. The second consequence of the transformation of Strahan into one of the State’s most sophisticated tourism destination and of the relative disadvantage of the other settlements is the fact that local communities have realized how conservation can have economic benefits, and how a global brand can put “gateway” towns on the national and international tourism map. The polarization between Strahan and the rest of the region is not new. It possesses historical roots as well - particularly the contraposition with Queenstown, the biggest and oldest settlement on the West Coast. At the time of the Franklin dispute, the divide between Strahan and Queenstown had acquired a symbolic dimension. In a period where politics embodied a clash of contradictory philosophies – development versus conservation, spirituality versus materialism, innovation versus conservatism – such dichotomy appeared in all its evidence and it became “topographic” on the West Coast of Tasmania. The activists who staged the Franklin River blockade chose Strahan as their headquarter. It was the turning point for the port on Macquarie Harbour. The sleepy fishing village became the set for an epic clash between different views of

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civilization, with heavy involvement of media of national and international significance. Queenstown, only 41 km away on the Lyell Highway, was as far as it could get psychologically. Sentiments in town were strongly anti-environmentalist. The mining town was the classic example of a working class which had only known one form of income, associate with resource extraction. The promise of more jobs from hydro-electricity was a chimera for a population which had known its share of decline and gloom, particularly at a tough time for the mining industry. If Strahan was the headquarters of the “greenies”, Queenstown was the stronghold of the fiercest traditional economic order – based on exploitation of natural resources and harshly opposed to any form of limitation on its opportunities. In the words of an activist who participated in the actions to save the Franklin River this rift could not be more evident: “Queenstown is a town of rain, a damp, gloomy, dirty town; water seems to run in its veins…It’s an anomaly, Queenstown, a town that has lived too long, a temporary shelter that has taken root. There is a natural expectation when you go living in a mining town that it will not – by its nature it cannot – last forever; one day you will leave. But Queenstown has been there since last century, it has bred its own generations in isolation and rain, and it has created its own tiny ingrown culture…It is the ugliest mining town – and so the ugliest town – that I know. And it has forged an ugly culture. It is mean and small-souled, and I will be happy if I never see the place again…Early in January this year I picked up two hitchhikers, a boy and a girl, at the top of the hill, leaving Queenstown. They had big cardboard notices on their packs “We are NOT Greenies”. They had made them in self-protection after they had been abused, cursed, spat on, forced off their road by cars. That is the kind of town it is. Carloads of hooligans from Queenstown cruise the night streets of Strahan looking for greenies to beat up…That is the kind of town it is” (McQueen 1983: 32). The reason the author finds for the anti-green violence in Queenstown was in the propaganda of the government in favor of the dams: “The answer, a part of it, lies in the bumbling giant, Mt Lyell. It was for too long the big mine, the great mine. Time passed it by, it grew old, too lazy, too unprofitable, too cumbersome, to inefficient…It is a white elephant, a millstone, but it is all that Queenstown has. If it closes, the town will die. So people are frightened. They were told that the HEC would bring jobs to Queenstown, that the greenies were trying to stop the HEC, and that they must stop the greenies” (McQueen 1983: 32-33). The cultural and socio-economic divide between Queenstown and Strahan began in those years of the

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Franklin dispute, and it partly persists today, given the success of Strahan’s association with the World Heritage wilderness and the missed opportunity in Queenstown. Yet, since the declaration of the Tasmanian Wilderness World heritage Area and the successful establishment of a thriving ecotourism industry on the West Coast, things have changed significantly also in Queenstown. The ecotourism fortune of Strahan has served as a reference for the Queenstown community to develop its own ecotourism brand, based on the same elements that substantiate the Strahan model: the concept of “gateway” to the an internationally recognized wilderness region; and the utilization of a global brand as a crucial marketing tool. A proposal to establish a UNESCO “Global Geopark” in Queenstown (Rimini 2009) has been embraced by the local community and it has become a locally driven, national political agenda. The Geopark concept is that of a “colonized wilderness” (Rimini 2009), which offers a complex heritage made of four elements which are interlinked historically, culturally and geographically: the wilderness nature of the West Coast and its World Heritage values; the industrial landscape known as “the moonscape”, a legacy of Australia’s most illustrious mining company, the Mt Lyell Mining and railway Company which operated without interruption for 104 years; the network of hydroelectric complexes such as the Lake Margaret Power Station, near Queenstown, which is among the best preserved in the country; and the transport routes that give access to most of such multifaceted heritage. The organization which represents the local community, Project Queenstown, has embedded the Geopark as its major project, with the official endorsement of the West Coast Council. The three major political Parties in Tasmania – ALP, Liberal Party and the Greens – have all expressed their support for the Geopark idea and they have included it in the respective platforms for the political elections of March 2010. The major opponent of the Project is, significantly, the mining industry. The UNESCO patronage of Geoparks has aroused the suspicion that the too familiar history of the World Heritage nomination would repeat itself, with important mining resources being potentially locked up by conservationists. Although this fear is not supported by the facts, because Geoparks unlike World Heritage areas are not legislative conservation regimes but a simple tourism brand, the concern expressed by the Mineral Council of Tasmania is an interesting indication of the perceived effectiveness of the World Heritage Convention and of the long-lasting consequences of its implementation in Tasmania. It is as interesting as the cultural shift that is observed in the Queenstown community – no longer stuck

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in the ideological divide between conservation and development, industry and environment, and willing to follow in the footsteps of Strahan’s ecotourism venture. The influence of the Strahan model goes beyond the boundaries of the West Coast. It is an exportable model, which can contribute to the conservation of threatened wilderness on the basis of the economic benefits that ecotourism can provide to the local communities. An enlightening example of the appeal of such economic development strategy can be found not far from Strahan and the West Coast, in the already mentioned Tarkine region. The Cradle Coast Authority, which drafts and coordinates tourism strategies for the North West and West of Tasmania, has produced a detailed study of the potential of the Tarkine communities to follow in the footpath of Strahan, and benefit from a tourism that reflects the “Western Wilderness” brand and the associated World Heritage values.

The Tarkine – Tasmania’s up and coming wilderness mecca

In October 2008, a lengthy tourism strategy for the Tarkine region has been published by the Cradle Coast Authority. The “Tarkine Tourism Development Strategy”(TTDS 2008) is an interesting document because it represents something of a revolution in Tasmania. The North West was traditionally a natural resources industries driven economy, and the local communities have long represented the staunchest supporters of extractive economic activities such as large scale logging and mining. Until a few years ago, the Tarkine was, for the region, an unnamed reservoir of timber, minerals and land to clear for agriculture or forestry plantations. The long fight for the recognition of the natural and cultural values of the area, and for the official acknowledgement of the name “Tarkine” to give an identity to this perceived wasteland, together with the success of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area in heralding change and prosperity for the West Coast communities, has dramatically changed the attitude of the local public opinion. The Tourism Strategy produced by the Cradle Coast Authority is the proof. The brand that is proposed for the region is based on the typical attributes of wilderness. Its “essence” is indicated as a “powerful connection with wild places”; among its “core values”, the first place is occupied by “wilderness”; of the five mentioned “flagship attributes”, four directly relate to wilderness values: “globally significant temperate rainforest; dramatic diverse places

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(wild rivers, rugged coastline, mountains, expansive views); accessible wilderness; rare and threatened species” (TTDS 2008 p. 9). The Strategy highlights the compatibility of the tourism brand with the “Western Wilderness” brand, which covers the West and is centered on the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area and Strahan, and in general with the brand of Tasmania, which relies on the green image of a “natural State”. So strong has been the cultural change brought about by the success of the World Heritage region that praise for the potential of the Tarkine as a premier wilderness destination was expressed even by Forestry Tasmania, the archenemy of conservationists. According to Forestry Tasmania, “the Tarkine’s unique mix of rainforest, river and coastal wilderness, outstanding cultural heritage and proximity to established icons like Cradle Mountain, Strahan and Stanley could see the project develop into Australia’s premier, nature-based travel destination” (Forestry Tasmania submission to CCA, May 2008, in TTDS 2008, p. 10). The economic yield predicted from tourism development in the Tarkine region is $58,2 M, by 2017. What is relevant is that almost half of this income is expected to be generated by the segment of visitors that flock to the area for its natural values, i.e. for its wilderness experience. The value of such niche market of “Nature Enthusiasts” is estimated at $22.3M, and the growth forecast is of up to 35% over the next decade. A total of 1100 jobs would be created by this growth scenario (TTDS 208). Emphasis throughout the document is placed on the appropriate development of “entry points”, and this echoes the “wilderness gateway” model of Strahan. Three gateway towns – Arthur River in the North, Corinna in the South and Waratah in the East – are considered as the most promising gateway communities of the Tarkine (Fig. 13).

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Fig. 13: Gateway towns and transport routes in the Tarkine region (Cradle Coast Authority 2008)

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The region is not a World Heritage Area at present, but the National Heritage listing of the region has always been seen as the first step towards a World Heritage nomination. The political and economic developments in the Tarkine demonstrate that the lessons drawn from the effectiveness of the World Heritage wilderness model in Tasmania hold promise for other similar regions locally, nationally, and internationally. The appetite for ecotourism and wilderness experience development in the Tarkine would not have been aroused without the watershed represented by the declaration of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, its resolution of Australia’s most bitter environmental conflict over wilderness, and the opportunities it opened up to local communities. Since the Franklin River was spared the consequences of unsustainable exploitation, and its wilderness values were preserved and enhanced with a World Heritage acknowledgement, a virtuous cycle has been triggered and its effects are still at work in what is Australia’s quintessential wilderness State.

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Summary

The Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area has provided an outstanding opportunity for sustainable and long-term development. Tasmania has seen the emergence and consolidation of a thriving tourism sector, which has used the iconic appeal of wilderness together with the prestige of the World Heritage status as the tenets for its tourism brand. Nature-based tourism represents a pillar of Tasmania’s tourism industry, and most of the State’s iconic natural sites are located within the World Heritage area. The contribution of the World Heritage brand to tourism is an issue to which scholars have failed to give a certain answer; in the case of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, though, this role is clear. The uniqueness of this case derives from the explicit association with the imagery and symbolic value of wilderness. Tasmania’s natural attraction is, first and foremost, the wilderness character of its environment, which corresponds to the classic idea of wilderness – remote, natural areas with an outstanding scenic and aesthetic value. The impact of tourism is most visible is the region that has positioned itself as the gateway to the World Heritage wilderness: the West Coast. Strahan, a port that exported the minerals from the region’s mines, has become one of Tasmania’s finest and most popular tourism destinations, and its tourism offer consists of wilderness with a World Heritage recognition. The example of Strahan has served as a model for yet another large scale project to develop sustainable tourism in a wilderness destination which aspires to be recognized as a World Heritage area: the Tarkine. Economic factors linked to the potential for tourism development represent the major drive for the preservation of this region, and a unanimous consensus of the local communities indicates that the TWWHA model has also changed the minds of people, educating them about conservation and its opportunities. .

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Conclusions

This research analyses the cultural link between the wilderness idea and the World Heritage Convention, and the potential of such affinity to transform the Convention into the main global framework for the protection of remaining wilderness regions. This could happen with the inclusion of wilderness as a World Heritage criterion for the identification of natural properties. The political and economic spheres are here analyzed as the two main levels in which the synergy between wilderness and World Heritage is more effective. On the other hand, the absence of a wilderness criterion within the World Heritage system - which determines a weakness and the inability of the Convention to address key environmental conflicts over the wilderness resource affecting World Heritage properties – is also emphasized through the lenses of the Tasmanian case study. Few crucial points have been established here. Wilderness is an eminently cultural concept. Its controversial, debated history is witness to a constant struggle to define its essence and overcome its derivation from a peculiar socio-cultural context: that of Anglo-Saxon settlers communities. This research acknowledges the controversy surrounding the wilderness idea, but it also demonstrates that wilderness is nowadays a crucial component of conservation strategies and goals and that its cultural nature is actually its strongest asset, because it produces the “iconic” value which makes wilderness an appealing, successful conservation paradigm. Wilderness is currently a major land use category, with international recognition. It is a legislated principle for reservation in several countries, with a stronger tradition and focus in countries that share with the original wilderness champion – the United States – a similar colonial history. The traditional wilderness countries are former British settlers societies, which have come into contact with vast continental expanses of supposedly wild territory - such as Australia, New Zealand, and Canada in addition to the United States. Wilderness also exists as a de facto reservation category in many other parts of the world. It is one of the protected areas categories acknowledged by the World Commission on Protected Areas of the World Conservation Union (IUCN), and as such, it possesses global recognition. The cultural dimension of wilderness is reflected in a unique combination of anthropocentric and bio-centric values. They comprise attributes such as beauty and aesthetic qualities, scenic

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features, recreational opportunities and spiritual values on one hand; and ecosystem integrity, undisturbed ecological processes, naturalness and resilience on the other. The two aspects of the wilderness values – human-based and ecologically founded – are inseparable, and their fusion makes wilderness an exception among conservation paradigms. It remains a cultural notion, although it possesses undisputable scientific underpinnings as well. The World Heritage notion owes to the idea of wilderness a great deal of its philosophical and conceptual roots. These can be traced back to the peculiar conception of nature that supported the emergence and development of wilderness as a philosophy first and as a conservation principle later. The key component of the World Heritage idea – the notion of Outstanding Universal Value – is a cultural construct itself. Just like the wilderness idea, it is based on criteria that combine anthropocentric and bio-centric values. The criteria that have been devised in order to objectively identify it in fact show its inalienable cultural dimension. Of these criteria, the notion of “integrity” of natural World Heritage areas is probably the most evident reminder of the original link between the World Heritage concept and the wilderness idea. The belief that in order to be outstanding and universal in character a natural area must be “whole” recalls one of the typical attributes of wilderness: its naturalness and wholeness. In addition, the World Heritage natural criteria comprise a combination of anthropocentric values – such as aesthetic beauty – and scientific principles – such as biodiversity. This mix is again a sign that the same cultural imprint of wilderness is present in the World Heritage notion of Outstanding Universal Value. This represents the cultural dimension of the Convention. It is the strongest asset at its disposal to be an effective tool of conservation. The Convention is not particularly endowed in terms of financial resources, legal power or scientific knowledge. But it is incredibly successful due to its iconic value and symbolic capital. Just as the wilderness idea, World Heritage nature is a hybrid creature, which draws its strength from culture although it also possesses scientific and more “objective” values. Despite the close cultural link between World Heritage and wilderness idea, the latter has never been included within the Convention’s criteria that define natural World Heritage. In addition, the progressive development of the World Heritage Convention into a pillar of the global conservation system has forfeited some of its traditional vocation of a cultural system of nature preservation. In particular, it has determined a departure from the “iconic” dimension, in order to

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embrace scientific objectivity, which is found in the notion of representative heritage rather than iconic heritage, as well as in the aspiration to universalism. The original, philosophical connection with the wilderness concept has remained in the background, an inheritance that has progressively been forgotten. Nonetheless, wilderness areas within the World Heritage list matter. They are contained within many World Heritage sites, and some of the List’s most iconic properties are in fact wilderness areas, wholly or at least partially. De facto wilderness exists and is also recognized by the IUCN in the assessment of the Outstanding Universal Value of natural areas. Wilderness per se, though, is not a World Heritage category and hence it is not a guiding principle of reservation. This ignores the fact that wilderness is today a crucial element of the global strategy of conservation. A huge proportion of the Earth is still considered to be in almost pristine condition. Intact ecosystems occupy between 33% and 52% of the Globe. This means that such wilderness regions are an important priority of global conservation, and the cultural affinity between the World Heritage Convention and the wilderness idea makes the former the best possible framework for the global protection of wilderness. This is strengthened by the fact that the synergy between the two notions can prove to be extremely effective in resolving environmental conflicts in which wilderness regions are disputed between natural resource industries and conservation reasons. The world’s best example of this “best match” , and of the successful overlapping between wilderness and World Heritage, is the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. The link is evident in the name, but there is much more to it. Among the remaining wilderness areas identified by the most conservative research – in terms of benchmark criteria such as minimum core size - on the identification of wilderness areas that still exist (Mittermeier et al 2003), the Tasmanian Wilderness is the only region which is almost entirely protected – up to 97% of it is reserved – and which is also almost entirely contained within a World Heritage site. The TWWHA comprises 1.4 million hectares of protected lands, and most of it rates as high quality wilderness according to the National Wilderness Inventory (Lesslie et al 1984) and is zoned as wilderness according to the management Plan (Parks and Wildlife Service 2002). The significance of the TWWHA for the purposes of this research is that it demonstrates the potential effectiveness of wilderness as a criterion for World Heritage, as well as the need for the

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current World Heritage system to rediscover and embed wilderness as such, in order to be effective in those contexts of environmental conflict where the disputed natural resource is wilderness. These two findings emerge from the political dimension of the Tasmanian Wilderness case study. The history of the World Heritage area shows the power of icons and symbols in the environmental struggles over disputed natural areas. Tasmania has witnessed the most bitter and prolonged conflict over natural resources development versus conservation in the history of Australia. The Franklin Dam issue has been its culmination, and it has also been the background to the creation of the World Heritage area. It has been a fight for wilderness, and it has been solved when the wilderness resource has been associated to its ideal match: the World Heritage Convention. An iconic, cultural notion has been recognized through the inclusion within an iconic, cultural system of nature conservation. The encounter between the iconic and the cultural dimension of both concepts has had an enormous influence. The World Heritage reservation has achieved what all other types of protection – including the national park status, the highest protection for natural areas in Tasmania – have failed to: the long term, secure conservation of natural assets. The most controversial losses of such heritage in Tasmania have occurred while the resource was formally protected in a national park. This was the case of Lake Pedder when it was flooded. It was the case on many occasions of iconic forests in places like Mt Field – Tasmania’s first national park – and Hartz Mountain national park, which have a long history of excisions for forestry. It was almost the case with Frenchmans Cap and the Franklin River, which were protected in the Wild Rivers National Park at the time of the hydroelectric scheme known as the Franklin Dam. Within the World Heritage, though, Tasmania’s wilderness has not only found a quintessential match to its iconic value - it has also found secure protection. The successful resolution of the bitter environmental conflict over the proposed damming of the Franklin River has done more than producing one of Australia’s finest World Heritage areas. It has reshaped the entire wilderness politics and policy of the country. It has changed the constitutional balance of power between Federal Government and States. The external affairs power, used by the Commonwealth to halt the construction of the Dam in order to comply with the requirements mandated by the World Heritage Convention, became the tool through which the Federal Government sanctioned its right to intervene in State matters related to the environment, when the World Heritage values of a region were threatened by State policies.

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Such interference occurred several times after the Franklin Dam case, particularly in World Heritage disputes over regions with significant wilderness value, such as the Kakadu or the Wet Tropics. In addition, the victorious formula of the World Heritage wilderness became the most common strategy of the environmental camp in a number of wilderness conflicts – such as the campaign to list Cape York as a wilderness within the World Heritage List, and the long fight for the protection of Tasmania’s last unprotected wilderness: the Tarkine. Australia still possesses large areas of unreserved wilderness, which has international significance and for which the World Heritage Convention would represent the best guarantee of protection. The Tasmanian example holds promise, though, also at the international level. Targeting crucial unreserved wilderness regions throughout the world can become a key goal of the World Heritage Convention. The model of Tasmania could be useful first and foremost in countries that share with Australia a common history and have a socio-political affinity – notably the traditional wilderness countries. The fact that large swaths of remaining wilderness regions are located in such countries makes this affinity a precious resource. But the potential of World Heritage to play a major role as an instrument of wilderness preservation is not limited to Anglo- Saxon countries. A large chunk of the wilderness resource is found in Russia. The country possesses an illustrious tradition of nature conservation, embodied by the zapovednik model. The idea of zapovednik has a lot in common with the wilderness idea. The similarities create fertile ground for the proactive targeting of wilderness areas for conservation through the Word Heritage Convention. Beyond the above mentioned countries, the success, prestige and appeal of the World Heritage idea, which has established itself in all continent and cultures, can become an essential instruments for the prioritization of wilderness areas for conservation purposes. On the other hand the Tasmanian case study highlights a shortcoming in this respect. The more recent environmental conflict over wilderness in Tasmania – the fight for the old-growth, tall forests bordering the World Heritage property – has shown the obstacles the system faces for not recognizing wilderness as an official conservation criterion. The influence of the World Heritage concept in Tasmania has given the Convention an exceptional power and the opportunity to be the place where natural heritage disputes are successfully addressed. The major unresolved environmental battles in the State have continued along the lines of the World Heritage model – by invocating the wilderness value of the resource at stake, and the need for World Heritage

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recognition on the other. This has been particularly the case with the wilderness forests that border the World Heritage area. The World Heritage system has provided an institutional, supranational framework in which to address and potentially solve this socio-economic and political conflict. What the UNESCO mission has shown, though, was an approach to the forest conflict that rested on an inappropriate conceptual background. The Convention tackled the forest dispute in a scientific, technical way, and didn’t grasp the spirit of it: the fact that just like the Franklin Dam, this was a wilderness battle. The forests have been treated as a technical matter, instead of an iconic element that is crucial to the perceived wilderness values of the World Heritage region. This confirms the assumption at the core of this research: that the loss of the cultural link with wilderness and the abandonment of the iconic vocation in favor of an exclusively scientific approach to conservation impoverishes the Convention and determines a weakness in addressing issues that relate first and foremost to wilderness values and concepts. Because of this weakness, the Convention is not able to fulfill the role of a proactive wilderness conservation regime, unless wilderness sis embedded and recognized as a reservation criterion. This has not only political benefits, but it also provides important economic opportunities. The other dimension in which the potential usefulness of wilderness as a World Heritage match appears clearly from the Tasmanian case is the economic sphere. The Tasmanian economy has diversified from its traditional natural resource base, and it has embraced tourism, which has quickly become the State’s biggest industry, rivaling and surpassing forestry. The brand on which Tasmania has thrived as a national and international tourism destination is that of a “natural State”. Such evolution received its biggest boost from the World Heritage nomination of the Tasmanian wilderness. The most well-known and recognizable icons of Tasmania’s environment are contained within its World Heritage area. These icons have become famous all over the world during the disputes that culminated with the World Heritage declaration. If there is a region in which the impact of the World Heritage brand on tourism development appears to be undisputable, this is the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area. The proof is the transformation of the State’s most remote region – the West Coast – from an isolated outpost of mining settlements to one of the leading tourism destination of Tasmania. Its fortune is the association with wilderness and the World Heritage brand, to which the West Coast prides itself of being the gateway. The contribution of the wilderness values and of the World Heritage brand

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goes beyond the actual “wilderness experience” and related tourism. It is an inspirational, iconic, cultural factor, which strengthens the appeal of the destination, even if the actual tourism experience only occurs at the fringe of wilderness and as a proxy of a true wilderness experience, as is the case in Strahan. Because of this, though, the model of Strahan on the West Coast can be easily replicated where two similar pre- conditions are met: the vicinity to a wilderness of actual or potential World Heritage value, and a concept, a brand which can capture this essence. This is happening in the nearby Tarkine region, where the Strahan model promises a tourism bonanza which has once again secured the future of a threatened wilderness region, for which World Heritage status is invoked. The above-mentioned findings lead to the core scope of this research. Why is it important to establish an explicit link between the World Heritage conservation system and wilderness? The answer is the future. The strategies that have been drafted by IUCN (2006) for the future growth and goals of the Convention identify priority regions of the globe which need protection and for which the World Heritage can be used proactively as a conservation tool. Wilderness, though, is not a guiding principle in this search. Under- represented biomes and eco-regions, as well as biodiversity hotspots, are the key notions behind this endeavor. And yet, according to the most conservative estimates, at least 33% of the earth is still wilderness. This represents an opportunity and a challenge, because wilderness is a fast disappearing resource and some of the wilderness regions that still exist are also crucial cradles of biodiversity. Prioritizing wilderness as a reservation category can have a decisive impact on conservation outcomes in the future. This argument is strengthened by the lessons learnt from the Tasmanian case study. Not only wilderness is crucial to preserve the world’s natural heritage. It is also incredibly effective, both politically and economically, as an underpinning concept for World Heritage reservation. A category of World Heritage areas that is reserved explicitly because of wilderness values can be a tremendous addition to the effectiveness of the Convention as a global mechanism of nature conservation. It can also fill the gap that has opened between the key vocation of the World Heritage idea – that of a cultural and iconic system of reservation – and its current trend towards an exclusively scientific and technical conservation regime. In this respect, Tasmania has a lesson to tell the world, about this iconic power. Its political, social and economic history represents a model that holds promises for the future, if its meaning

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and influence are understood, and embedded in the intended direction of the World Heritage system of tomorrow. This is the still actual and deep message of the iconic lands of the world.

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