Futures of Past Geographies – Historical Geographies From Aotearoa New Zealand

Introduction

The editors’ invitation to be part of this special issue suggested that the essays would ‘resemble “passion pieces” from contributors’ writing about their ‘respective fields, how they have seen them evolve and what the roads ahead will look like in the context of [multitudinous contemporary] challenges.’ The timing seemed good, coming two years into formal retirement from Massey University and my having completed some long-delayed pieces of writing, making it now possible to reflect on various experiences with a degree of detachment, though with the nagging doubt that this distancing might produce the exact opposite to the ‘passion pieces’ that were being sought.

This text falls into two parts, the first sketches out how I became interested in and pursued historical geography. The second part on future pathways in the context of current and emerging challenges is indeed more difficult. It is offered tentatively, mindful of my other well off target predictions.

Past Influences

My first fleeting encounter with historical geography occurred in the early 1970s in sixth form (Year 12) University Entrance Geography. The topic dealt with the industrial revolution in Great Britain from the 18^th to the 19^th centuries. At the time it complemented topics in my sixth form history class and I do not recall ever puzzling about why this material was being taught in geography although, in ways that I could not quite articulate, it was recognizably different from the sixth form history teacher’s treatment of similar topics.

Historical geography did not much feature in my undergraduate geography degree at the University of Canterbury, though it was, if not by name the basis of my third-year fieldtrip group project on the evolution of orcharding in Central Otago and present as a module labelled ‘time and change’ also part of the New Zealand Geography course. The university library held multiple copies of A.H. Clark’s (1949) The Invasion of New Zealand by People Plants and Animals. I was impressed even if I had no idea of the book’s importance nor of its author’s significance in North American historical geography. Historical Geography was an option amongst a dozen or so available MA papers. I was dithering over what to select having become more interested in physical geography in my second and third years, but in a haphazard process of elimination signed up for historical geography. In a class of over a dozen only two of us opted to take the course (taught by Peter Perry and Eric Pawson two contrasting but accomplished historical geographers). There was some ribbing from the peer group about taking such a manifestly ‘unpopular’ option, accentuated by their own largely ‘applied’ focus which typically meant ‘measurement’ of some sort whether by equipment or questionnaire. In this respect A.R.H. Baker’s (1978, 1979) reports on historical geography in Progress in Human Geography proved a welcome foil for defending historical geography as part of the wider discipline as well as indicating how to draw on some in-common techniques and questions. GEOG 609 Historical Geography introduced me to classical synchronic and diachronic cross sections as well as other contemporary approaches. A thesis on the origins and evolution of scenic reserves followed, in effect a study of nature conservation in New Zealand and a doctoral dissertation on forest policy and management in New Zealand from 1840-1930. As well as entraining me in a longstanding thread of historico-geographical research on land use and environmental change, the PhD introduced me to Monash University’s Joe Powell’s writing on land settlement and natural resource management. Content as well as the approach taken by Powell made his work attractive. Two books were particularly useful; The public lands of Australia Felix and Environmental Management in Australia, 1788–1914 (Powell, 1970, 1976). From the former it was possible to take his official and popular appraisals model of land settlement and refocus it on forests. I was attracted to Environmental Management less by his ‘descriptive-analytic narrative’ (Powell, 1976, p. xi) than by the fact that an established historical geographer was writing about early forest conservation efforts identifying some broadly similar timing, concerns, and responses to those I encountered in New Zealand.

His writing also offered an amenable antidote to positivism and theory driven by economistic assumptions of rational economic behaviour or rigid behavioural approaches (Powell, 1970). Indeed, for some time as an early-mid career researcher, I seemed to be forever following along pathways that he had already explored in areas as disparate as water management and World War I discharged soldier settlement, and more latterly in the history of geographic thought (Powell, 1976, 1980, 1989, 1993). Ultimately, I moved away from his environmental appraisals and behavioural systems approach, though retaining his interest in humanistic points of view. This gap widened when as a Post-Doctoral Fellow I began research on contemporary forestry land use issues that coincided with New Zealand’s neo-liberal experiment and ultimately privatisation of the exotic plantation estate. This involvement coincided with the emergence of political economy writing in social sciences including geography and was particularly useful for understanding changes to society and economy (less so environment initially, until I stumbled on Piers Blaikie, 1985). Political economy also proved useful and re-deployable in past times finding its way into much of my subsequent historical geography research, particularly as I was more interested in geographical change over time, which can run up to the present, rather than reconstructing a past time. Powell drew attention to the role of individuals and state institutions, but the economy tended to be omitted from his analytical framework. Given New Zealand’s place as an exporter of large quantities of a small range of primary products to a limited number of markets for most of the 20th century – economy needed more space, even if only as backdrop, even if my own main focus lay elsewhere. Never-the-less Powell’s work on Australia dealt with experiences that spoke to my research interests more than most UK or continental historical geographers. That said I should acknowledge the importance of historical geographers from Canada. Graeme Wynn and Jim Gibson as visitors at the University of Canterbury were helpful in ways they probably never appreciated, while Cole Harris in writing on the nature of historical geography, historical geography and social theory, as well as archives as the site of fieldwork provided valuable signposts even though these are not particularly obvious in terms of my reference lists as I moved away from the approaches pioneered by Powell (Harris, 1991, 2001, 2004).

I would identify three clusters of work that have a personal resonance. To start, acknowledging the legacy of Kenneth Cumberland as summarised in Landmarks, which was shorn of methodological discussion and repackaged for general audiences on Television and in print form (Cumberland 1981). Second, the importance of The Historical Atlas of New Zealand to adding appreciation of the past beyond text by integrating mapping into the means of understanding national development (which included warfare) (McKinnon, 1997). Third, historical geographers’ contribution to the interdisciplinary field of environmental history through the Environmental Histories of New Zealand and its revised edition (Pawson & Brooking, 2002, 2013) as well as Seeds of Empire (Brooking & Pawson, 2011). These latter volumes counter what they described as ‘a pernicious form of “presentism” abroad in this country: a tendency to portray landscapes as if they “are” rather than having histories by which they came to be’ (Pawson & Brooking, 2002, p. xii).

As a Post-Doctoral Fellow working with Richard Le Heron at Massey University my research on forestry continued but in a contemporary setting and that ultimately provided a better grounding in undertaking ‘theoretically informed’ inquiry. There followed a period of six years of contract research working on a history of state forestry in New Zealand and on examining the legislative and administrative efforts leading to soil and water conservation controls, finishing at their complete replacement by a new regime as a suite of neo-liberal ‘reforms’ were implemented and two years as a part time lecturer (Roche, 1990, 1994). Having experienced eight years’ work on fixed term contracts I can empathise with the situation facing the casual staff in today’s academy.

Thereafter I fully rejoined the academy at Massey University, for better or for worse forgoing a couple of academic job opportunities in Australia. Over the last 30 years my research and teaching have had two main threads increasingly focussed on (1) contemporary forestry and agrifood topics this being a combination of ‘agricultural geography’ and a ‘productionist’ economic geography of off farm processing and distribution while also (2) pursuing historical-geographical research. The latter undertaken by engaging with ideas of empire as network and ‘imperial careering’ particularly following the mobility of foresters from training in the UK to work in different parts of the empire while bringing with them specific sets of scientific understanding that was reworked in various imperial contexts. But also, again in the shadow of Powell (1980), examining the World War I discharged soldier settlement scheme as the end phase of pioneer expansion and with only some exceptions being an unsustainable strategy economically, environmentally, and socially. While initially my timing was bad in that with a freshly minted PhD the academic job market was exceedingly tight, later it was more fortunate in terms of the Dictionary of New Zealand Biography and the Historical Atlas of New Zealand getting underway. Recalling a conversation with Graeme Wynn about the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, I appreciated that the way to capitalise on its format was to offer to produce a series of related entries, in my case on personalities in the timber industry and forestry sector (e.g. Roche, 1998, 2022).

The Historical Atlas of New Zealand provided different opportunities and indeed involved almost all the historical geographers in the country on its committees and as contributors of 28 of its 100 plates. The volume’s Editor-in-Chief Malcolm McKinnon (1997, p. 10) remarked that historical geographers ‘made the most substantial collective contribution’ to the atlas.

The ‘benefit of hindsight’ enables me to impose a degree of order and connection on my pathway as an historical geographer. If I was writing this piece solely with reference to my agrifood work the narrative would be quite different in terms of key events and connections. But without reducing the last 40 years to anything more than chaos, I ought also to acknowledge the role at the time of chance, of unexpected events – both creating and thwarting opportunities, and only lastly of contingent strategic and tactical planning.

I previously said ‘main threads’ of historico-geographical and contemporary agrifood research deliberately, because at points it has been possible and indeed important to add some temporal depth to discussions about the present state of and prospects for agriculture in New Zealand. This most latterly occurred as part of an externally funded ‘biological-economies’ project where Matt Henry and I, drawing on assemblage concepts, examined experiments from the 19^th to 21^st centuries at shaping the lamb carcasse intended to secure maximum export returns (Henry & Roche, 2013). As a more general proposition I would suggest that much Australasian social science in the agrifood space tends to be present and future oriented, and for the best of reasons in terms of trying to help make a better future, but in so doing overlooks or underplays the importance of considering the enduring impact of past circumstances on the present.

This article was solicited as a ‘passion piece’ but passion might not be sufficient, unless it is combined with the necessary skills to undertake historico-geographical research and these are not just a static bundle of techniques. Patience is required as well, though this can be learned, plus aptitude is needed which, if not intrinsic, can be improved through practice. I still recall a prominent cultural geographer telling me he could not cope with what for him was the tedium of searching the paper record in the archive, somewhat the opposite to my own reaction – here I’m enjoyably ‘in the field’ but in a different way to some other colleagues.

Future of the field – A Personal Perspective

Institutionally, one outcome of managerialism in the university sector has been the creation of larger administrative units – merging of departments into ‘schools’ or ‘divisions’ or ‘institutes’ in which ‘geography’ is often absent from the name. This can lead to an unfortunate degree of invisibility when it comes to attracting enrolments but also creates countervailing pressures of organising staff within multidisciplinary units while delivering most, but not all, of the teaching on traditional disciplinary lines (often manifest in endless discussions about shared methods courses). From a faculty perspective, however, the possibilities for building new research clusters are enhanced, although from firsthand experience I would suggest these may emerge from bottom-up rather than top-down initiatives (even with the availability of seed funding).

Considering for a moment the career trajectory of my contemporaries as well as graduate students I have taught or supervised. Some prospered in the secondary education system, others took up positions with the Waitangi Tribunal and Historic Places Trust (now Heritage New Zealand). Others who proceeded to doctoral study largely shifted into other human geography specialisms or even moved on to positions in related disciplines. My own experience is that there is also a career ‘life cycle’ at play and that mid-career and onwards geographers of various other specialisms become more interested in historico-geographical insights – even if it does not inform their writing. This intersection point can provide a basis for further collaborative teaching and research. Never-the-less at present in Aotearoa New Zealand historical geography is now almost invisible among geography specialisms. This is largely a consequence of demographics and retirements, staff complement contractions, and reappointments in different areas. The immediate to medium term challenge is for human geographers more generally to capitalise on the value of historical geography by introducing an appropriate temporal span into their work – conceptually and empirically.

At a personal level, becoming disengaged from the institutional setting has created some new opportunities. I have been able to write as an historical geographer in local history journals, on blogs, as well as speaking to some community groups.

From an academic viewpoint: In a review of historical geography writing in New Zealand intended for an audience of historians rather than geographers, I suggested that locally, historical geography and history were closer than historical geography and the rest of human geography (Roche, 2008). The Environmental Histories of New Zealand (Pawson & Brooking, 2002) and its revised form (Pawson & Brooking, 2013) as well as Seeds of Empire (Brooking & Pawson, 2011) arguably evidences the continuity of this point. The implicit alternative proposition is that historical geography can profitably engage more closely with the rest of human geography, though I would just as easily reverse the order and write that human geography can also profitably engage with historical geography. But keep in mind a distinction between historical geographers and historical geography, between personnel and field. This point is extendable to human geographers and human geography; human geographers can with some preparation gainfully dip into historical geography even in the absence of historical geographers.

From a New Zealand perspective the pervasiveness of an Anglo-American hegemony in geography is both recognisable and has been pushed back against (e.g. Berg & Kearns, 1998). More recent work on imperial networks has, however, considered how metropole and periphery have been mutually constituted (Lester, 2006), a point that may be translated and up scaled and applied to the relationship between New Zealand and Anglo-American Geography. Again, from my local perspective, historical geography bumps into indigenous knowledge. Some inroads into crossing between these two world views and the significant challenges of doing so were laid out by Professor Dame Evelyn Stokes (1987). While I can hardly claim my own research practices have been decolonised, they have changed through being involved in a minor way as a researcher invited into a Crown Forestry Rental Trust funded ‘environmental history’ inquiry report and as a member of the New Zealand Geographic Board Ngā Pou Taunaha o Aotearoa particularly through the latter’s involvement with the restoration of M$ā$ori place names as part of the cultural redress dimension of Treaty of Waitangi settlements. My time on the Board also coincided with the highly contested proposal to correct the spelling of a provincial city from Wanganui to Whanganui, which the board recommended, though the Minister decided either spelling was permissible with the proviso that he expected government agencies to adopt the corrected version.

At present the suite of interconnected wicked problems confronting societies is considerable including a plethora of environmental and development issues, climate change, inequalities, geopolitical tensions, and with the recent experience of Covid-19, heightened awareness of the risk of future epidemics – which in part have prompted the creation of this special issue. A digression is pertinent at this point to return to a case made by Pawson (2007) about the renewed value of nationally based geographical journals being internationally focussed and through being locally based while being linked to international publishers as part of bigger regional assemblages, thereby gaining from having wider exposure, having early view options, creating thematic digital special issues, and appearing to schedule. As he puts it, ‘the opportunity is [to] provide a space for difference whilst informing broader academic debates’ (Pawson, 2007, p. 240). The last decade and a half have been not quite so straightforward with various national research assessment exercises often blunting the possibilities by channelling new and emerging researchers towards publishing in Q1 journals so that a ‘space for difference’ remains under explored. However, publishers’ impact factors are not the only of full measure of impact and something as simple as views and downloads might be a better index of the importance of a piece of writing. Established researchers need to be committed to publishing locally. Senior staff need to support local journals with good work which will be located via their own reputations and through electronic databases.

I would not be so naïve, however, as to suggest that historical geography is a ‘panacea’ for understanding let alone solving contemporary crises. However, at the very least human geographers will lose nothing by involving historical geographers more closely in their research programmes. This leads to the following proposition that, now and in the future, collaborative research teams will become increasingly necessary to better reveal the underlying nature of social and environmental problems and assess how these may be addressed.

Other historical geographers have in past decades offered cases for applied historical geography to the extent that it is worth reiterating some that have been forward. For Hooke (1999) there is a role for historical geography in the maintenance of biodiversity, preservation of cultural heritage and recognition of cultural heritage. For Forster (2002) historical geography provides new data of often considerable quality and at variable scales all helping to frame new interpretations about ‘natural’ and cultural landscapes while for Schenk (2005) historical geography informs landscape histories, industrialisation and environmental pollution, cultural landscape conservation and acts as a bridge between ‘natural and cultural sciences.’

When I began my MA thesis, I would have regarded it as sitting comfortably within the bounds described by Hooke and Forster. Today my research is less so, although I would not say that their concerns along with those of Schenk (2005), should be set side entirely. Rather, I would position historical geography as adding value, where it can reveal the longer-term underpinnings of environmental crises (revealing also of a limiting ‘non-urban’ orientation in my own work), border indigenous knowledges, and offer insights into unsustainable growth and development. There is no exclusivity to broader geographical contributions in these three fields, but I would argue that within geography, both human and physical, an historico-geographical perspective is distinctive and ought to be appreciated for its attention to time as well as spaces and places (Campbell, 2018). That this statement is hardly novel ought not to cause it to be too readily dismissed.

It is not only themes or topics that ought to be considered regarding the future evolution of the field; the digitisation of newspapers and official papers, for example, particularly their searchability flips the balance away from analysis of scanty amounts of surviving evidence to an over-abundance of source material. This requires some different approaches to searching material and accumulating evidence. Furthermore, digital records including the plethora of photographic images collected in recent years may well require historical geographers of the future to acquire new competencies in assessing these source materials. That said I also have personal experience of over enthusiastic university librarians deaccessioning old official publications when full digital coverage is not available. Likewise low resolution and black and white scanning unfortunately mean some digital sources remain inferior to the print originals for maps, plans and plates. Looking back on my suite of writing, I would however, suggest in its rural and environmental orientation, its scale sometimes down to the ‘life-geographies’ of individuals, and in that most of it has been sole authored, that my work does not offer the only or even the most useful model for the future research. The future will likely involve having a better grasp of social theory and closer engagement with collaborative writing practises. Work on urban environments in the broadest sense should also advantage a new generation of historical geographers along with new skills in confronting digital born records.^[1]

The social sciences and humanities more generally are being called on to justify their value in economic terms in the political setting of New Zealand today. This may be challenging but is not impossible when incorporated into discussion about the trajectory of land use and land use change. Of course, it also asks that a narrow ‘economistic quantifying approach to value’ be extended to include additional costs and benefits into the equation, beyond the easily measurable. Managerialism reifies measurement of value over other attributes. But value resides in other areas as well, adding to an educated and informed community, the sorts of argument’s that are out of fashion at present but which I am more optimistic about in the long run.

Approaching contemporary environmental and social challenges as a set of interconnected ‘issues’ and placing historico-geographical research within this thematic mix is to update approaches previously advocated by others such as Hooke (1999) and Schenk (2005), see for example Van Sant, et al. (2020) and Oswin (2020). In addition, and perhaps more important, historical geography can contribute by focussing on how research and knowledge production more generally is undertaken. Historical geography in recent decades has avoided becoming locked into to a narrow set of canonical texts. This flexibility and pluralism may now be a strength in terms of responding to the challenges of pursuing historico-geographic research in what appears to be an era of environmental, economic, and geopolitical risk and uncertainty. That all reads as a statement rather too pious for its own good. What I would end on is that ‘historical geography’ is to some extent a state of mind as much as a bundle of theories and techniques. As such and over and above the more serious business of adding to academic value be it in an applied manner or not, embarking on historical geography research, while acknowledging the privileges that being part of the academy have provided, has for me been a matter of some joy in a way not matched by my research in other areas of human geography. It is difficult to put this is concisely into words, but it has something to do with material connections to past times, herein I betray my affinity for archival rather than field-based research. I particularity remember finding James Busby’s correspondence concerning spar gathering expeditions including those of HMS Buffalo, which had also brought free settlers to South Australia in 1836, and a handwritten memorandum detailing proposals for forestry legislation in the 1860s overlooked by other researchers.

If an emerging generation of historical geographers or human geographers employing historico-geographical insights can share that response, then they ought to be well positioned to counter everything sceptics within the disciplinary the fold and resourcing constraints beyond.