by Dave Witherow
An article by a former NZ Fish and Game Councillor Tom O’Connor appeared in some Fairfax papers. O’Connor’s article can be seen at:- https://www.stuff.co.nz/environment/121437761/time-for-change-for-fish-and-game. This article is by Dave Witherow, also a former NZ Fish and Game councillor, in response to O’Connor’s claims
Recent reports of trouble within Fish and Game conform to a standard script which surfaces about once every decade.
The whole organization is no longer fit for purpose, according to the critics, and it needs to be reviewed and reorganized if confidence is to be restored so it’s claimed.
Tom O’Connor, writing on May 9, rehashes most of this familiar terrain, spicing his case with allegations of dysfunction and malfeasance that bear no relation to reality.
He does, however, get one thing right: Fish and Game, in being directly responsible to its stakeholders, is a unique organisation – not just in New Zealand but in the world.
It is in fact a fine example of democracy in action, whereby anglers and hunters elect their own representatives to manage their own resources. It is regionally based, with twelve autonomous Fish and Game Councils, plus a co-ordinating body in Wellington, each employing professional staff, but with all councillors serving unpaid. Fish and Game is self-funded, making no claims on the public purse, but its work is of great benefit to the natural environment in general. Its record of achievement has often been noted by the present Minister of Conservation.
O’Connor refers to some of this record – the Water Conservation Orders that now protect many of our best surviving rivers. But he fails to acknowledge that it was the regional Fish and Game Councils – not the national office in Wellington – that did the essential work. And his whole perspective is coloured by his excessive focus on the Wellington operation.
Strength
The devolved nature of Fish and Game represents its strength and enduring relevance. Wildlife habitats vary dramatically from one region to another, and the differing management strategies required are best determined by the people who live in each specific area. Techniques that are appropriate in Northland may make no sense in Southland.
This was well understood by the Acclimatisation Societies – the forerunners of Fish and Game – who operated very effectively for a century or more without the need for a separate presence in Wellington, which dates only from 1990. This body, the New Zealand Fish and Game Council, or NZC, has proved to be a mixed blessing.
“The latest upheaval”, as O’Connor puts it, is really no more than a storm in a teacup – a drive for power and central control by some within the NZC , helped along by a few self-interested external allies. It reflects the perennial bureaucratic urge to expand that has seen the Wellington office increase its staff by over 300% in thirty years. There is no demonstrated need for this top-heavy establishment. The resources are in the regions, where all the vital work is done, yet in Otago and Southland, for example, staffing has remained more or less static during this same period.
O’Connor is concerned by recent changes in the composition of the NZ Fish and Game council. Farmers have been appointed to the Council, he says, and a longstanding chairman has been dumped. The Director has simultaneously been muzzled in respect of his comments “on matters to do with farming” – and these “sinister” developments may not be unrelated. Farmers, he thinks, have a fundamental conflict of interest when it comes to many of the activities of Fish and Game, and on account of this they might arguably be unfit to serve as councillors.
This is fanciful and in fact nonsensical. Conflicts of interest are impossible to avoid in a country the size of New Zealand, and if all the potentially conflicted anglers and hunters stood down from Dumped chairman
Fish and Game Councils there would be very few councillors left. The “dumped chairman”, for example, was a fishing guide – an occupation involving numerous points of conflict with the founding principles of Fish and Game. Yet he served as chairman for years.
The essential function of the NZC is to co-ordinate and audit the regions, according to O’Connor. This is far from the whole case, but even within such restricted terms the NZC’s performance lags behind the organisation as a whole. There is no consensus as to what “co-ordinate” really means, and the audit function has been exercised only sporadically. Four regions were audited between !990 and 2000, then none till 2018, when three were done in a row.
The biggest problem, according to O’Connor, is that there is insufficient separation between the NZC and the regional Councils. He attributes this to the composition of the NZC, which consists of one appointed councillor from each of the twelve regions. These councillors, as befits a national body, are reasonably expected to take a national perspective on the NZC’s business. But they often don’t, according to O’Connor. Instead, they remain blinkered by parochial concerns.
To get round this O’Connor proposes that NZC councillors should be elected entirely separately from those in the regions, in the same way as local and central government representatives are independently chosen. We do not allow local bodies to select our MP’s, so why is this incestuous system tolerated within Fish and Game? Independence, in O’Connor’s view, would preclude any contamination by local “parochial” concerns.
It would be hard to think up a more crippling idea. There are no valid parallels here. Central government has entirely different areas of responsibility from local government – defence, education, policing, welfare, and foreign affairs, to name just a few. But Fish and Game’s interests remain the same at all levels, and its NZC office serves primarily as an interface with the government of the day in Wellington. The NZC has no functions that do not arise from regional concerns. It manages no natural resources, and it generates no income – all its funds being supplied by the regions.
To suggest that this body be elected from a separate field of candidates, and to ban regional Fish and Game councillors from eligibility, would be to ensure a chaotic breakdown of the existing structure. All the ecological and managerial knowledge accumulated within the regions, and fed back to the NZC through its regional representatives, would become unavailable. Such a council would be operating in a vacuum, flying blind.
Nothing Wrong
There is nothing fundamentally wrong with the existing Fish and Game structure, and no valid reason for radical change. The NZC’s role might usefully be more clearly defined, its surplus staff trimmed, and the recurring tendency to act as a governing body, directing the regions as it sees fit, should be ended. This level of authority was never part the original intention, and its persistence has caused much mischief.
In an era of unprecedented environmental degradation it is inevitable that any voice for the protection of threatened natural resources will attract opposition from those whose interests lie elsewhere. No organisation is beyond criticism or improvement, but to suggest a wholesale rearrangement of Fish and Game on the basis of the current overblown complaints is irresponsible.
Fish and Game has served anglers and hunters well for several generations, and its conservation mandate is of far-reaching benefit to the wider public. Throughout its history it has continually evolved and renewed itself in response to changing circumstances – an adaptability seldom matched by comparable institutions. It a unique example of Kiwi grassroots competence, and if the Minister is of a mind to review it she should say so now, and make it an election issue.
Note.
Dave Witherow served on the Otago Fish and Game Council for 39 years (1979-2018), and was the Otago representative on the New Zealand Fish and Game Council for more than ten years (until 2018).
