The Tragedy of the Commons?
Last Friday, with the huge help of Erica Leal from OzFish, I finished collating the signatures from our open letter and sent them on to the Premier Chris Minns. All 763 of them. While I sat at my kitchen table doing the necessary and relatively impersonal admin of writing to the Premier via his online webform, the river began to see some relief. The tide began to influence the catastrophically low levels of oxygen in the lower estuary and (hopefully) the return of rains was able to flush or dilute some of the blackwater across the estuary, since all the rotting vegetation that was going to die presumably already had from the flood event linked to Cyclone Alfred.
When I eventually limped into the weekend it took a friend with the exact same symptoms to make me realise I was, in fact, sick myself. And I had been all week, with a nasty combination of stomach bug and flu. I'd been so wrapped up in a sick river I didn't have time to realise I was depleted too. It had been my intention to take an extended break from Revive the Northern Rivers, to distance myself from the endless algorithms and attention-sapping social media, and to ease off from writing for others about the environment in order to focus on my own private matters. Then, the rivers went black.
In a world where it feels like so many decisions - even those relating to the natural world that sustains our lives - rely on the ungodly laws of a "cost/benefit analysis" it does make me wonder about the wide-ranging and far-reaching impacts of ongoing environmental degradation and the cost it imposes on our bodies and our minds. What is the financial cost of restoring wetlands? What is the benefit to the proleteriat; the workers? Surely healthy and happy workers are more productive, right? Have we still not learnt that we can't eat money?
Like so many of our greatest challenges when it comes to the environment and climate change, it becomes infinitely more troubling for those of us who know, who have known for a long time, that there are viable solutions. Not only that, if we take our favourite cost/benefit analysis and apply it to most of these problems - even in the realm of capitalist economics - these ideological battles often don't make financial sense any more either.
It was my high school economics class where I first learnt the term 'tragedy of the commons'. For those unfamiliar, it is defined as,
"a situation in which individuals with access to a public resource—also called a common—act in their own interest and, in doing so, ultimately deplete the resource"
This concept was presented to me as a fact; as the reality by which we relate to the natural world through economics. I suppose it is telling that in this sphere, the living systems around us are reduced to mere 'resources' for our taking.
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In a media statement from Jagun Alliance last week, Bundjalung Elder Ricky Cook spoke openly about his thoughts on the state of the river, having spent the previous few days out on a boat with other Elders surveying the devastation. He had this to say,
“The river is kin to us. When Maamang suffers, we all feel it. Now is the time to listen deeply to Country and come together across knowledge systems to support its healing — for all our futures.
Our Elders teach us that the river has a voice — it’s asking us to pay attention. Through listening, respect, and shared action, we can bring life back to these waters and create a healthier future for everyone.
The proximity of intensive farming to riverbanks without the use of natural filter systems is visibly contaminating the waterways with clear signs of loss of marine life and damage to the fragile ecosystem. Most notable was the prevalence of large number of dead fish of numerous species including mullet, perch, flathead, eels, jewfish and whiting. My concerns extend to the local bird life and ill effects up and along the food chain with further interspecies contamination."
The 'Tragedy of the Commons' is not a human condition. It is a behaviour we have been indoctrinated into our entire lives by an economic system that, for the most part, has led us astray from much of what makes us human. What frustrates me most about this term is the use of the word 'tragedy', as if we should all collectively be resigned to this fate. When you read the words of Uncle Ricky Cook, it isn't hard to see that he is speaking for a culture that has thrived here — without torturing our rivers or clear-felling our forests — for many thousands of years. There is a better way, he is saying. It is something that the people and cultures who were here first have been trying to tell the rest of us since our ancestors arrived as boat people themselves. And while we all succumb to the temptations of that system at times, deep down I think there's a knowing that much of what we've been sold is inherently wrong.
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In order to advocate for the solutions our rivers need to survive, it is best to first have a firm understanding of the problem. As I said in my open letter, it has taken me years to fully grasp how blackwater occurs and behaves - including as part of tertiary study in river catchment science. But I must admit that it wasn't until I watched the process play out before my eyes, across a vast floodplain, for days on end, that I could truly comprehend its devastating effects. Many across the community would have had similar experiences.
Before I go there is something I want to stress which harks back to that fantastic Tim Winton quote, "Optimism is a discipline." While our rivers may be sick they have defiantly retained much of their immense beauty. Kingfishers dive-bombing for bait in the early-morning light, mangroves swaying in the breeze, sea eagles soaring overhead. The more time we spend on our rivers, the better friends we become. As with any strong bond between two living beings, when a friend is in need you'll do what you can to help them.
That's all from me, hopefully for a fair while. In the meantime don't forget to look up.
- Tom