The National Parks movement, now 150 years old, is considered to have begun with the opening of Yellowstone National Park. Created by presidential proclamation in 1872, it was a novel idea that not all frontiers need tamed.
In the 1860s, writers, thinkers, and painters stumbled upon a profound truth while searching for wild places: the great outdoors was rapidly shrinking. There was suddenly a need to protect nature from our own love for it.
French philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville, American naturalist Ralph Waldo Emerson, and other thoughtful individuals with equally impressive names engaged in correspondence about the wonders they encountered during their travels. De Tocqueville expressed his desire to visit the rapidly vanishing wilderness of the Canadian frontier, urging his correspondents to hurry up before it was too late.
This sentiment echoes the current trend of natural catastrophising that drives cruises to the Antarctic and hikes through wilderness areas. We are familiar with the “see it, before it’s too late” school of climate tourism, which was quite radical back then.
Painter George Catlin, whose paintings of El Capitan in what would later become Yosemite and Yellowstone played a significant role in shaping the movement, called for assistance in preserving the great outdoors in California. He proposed that certain lands of immense value and fragility should be designated as public property and gifted to the people of California for the purpose of establishing a “State Park.”
Having gained President Abraham Lincoln’s approval, the bill was signed into law in May 1864.
The concept gained such popularity that a decade later, in March 1872, the first National Park, Yellowstone, was established. This move recognised the value of natural beauty spots to the entire nation. The idea was to preserve these natural wonders for future generations to enjoy, just as they had been enjoyed by those who visited before.
Wallace Stegner famously described it as “America’s best idea.” This concept quickly spread around the world, eventually reaching Aotearoa (New Zealand) in 1897.
New Zealand was one of the first countries to recognise the significance of natural places. Just two years after Canada established its first national park, Banff National Park, in 1887, New Zealand made the decision to designate Tongariro as a National Park. In collaboration with Ngāti Tuwharetoa, the Crown created a conservation area around the maunga (volcano), effectively halting development within the 25,000-hectare block.
Today, the Yellowstone plan has evolved into a global movement, with over 4,000 National Parks established in various countries. These parks attract hundreds of millions of visitors annually, and during the Covid-19 pandemic, some parks experienced record visitor numbers due to the pause in international travel.
For instance, in 2020, the US Great Smoky Mountains National Park welcomed a record 14 million visitors for the first time. In the UK, the Welsh National Park of Snowdonia experienced a significant influx of new visitors, surpassing the previous record by a factor of two.
When the lockdown restrictions were implemented, open public spaces became even more essential for people’s well-being.
While the world is captivated by the romanticised portrayal of 19th-century naturalists, particularly during the 150th-anniversary coverage of the US National Parks, it’s important to acknowledge that there are areas for improvement in the “Great Outdoors.”
Conservationism, a Victorian pastime akin to taxidermy and cartography, has been viewed as eccentric and challenging to assess, yet it has generally proven beneficial. Until now, it has been granted a pass.
This worldview emphasises the virtues of the natural world and the wickedness of the man-made one. Is there a possibility that the national park pioneers were merely misanthropes?
Furthermore, they did not give much consideration to the existing inhabitants of the land.
It wasn’t until Tongariro that any dialogue was initiated with native and traditional landowners of proposed “national park” land.
Considering that 130 years ago, the situation may have been less harmonious than the Department of Conservation and Ministry for Culture and Heritage’s account suggests, it’s worth noting that Te Whenua, encompassing land use, land ownership, even conservation land, is deeply entrenched in politics.
New Zealand was one of the pioneers in establishing a National Park system, and today, it covers approximately a third of its land with conservation reserves.
Recent controversies surrounding reserves like Te Urewera, which ceased to be a traditional National Park in 2014, have highlighted the intricate balance between conservation objectives and the principles of Waitangi.
The Department of Conservation (DoC) was established relatively recently, partly to serve a new definition of conservation.
The Conservation Act, which gave birth to the DoC three decades ago, was founded on the ideals of Waitangi and a “good faith” relationship between the Crown and Māori.
It’s undeniable that the 19th-century Anglo-American naturalists, who perceived nature as needing “saving,” recognised some flaws in their approach.
The Emersons and de Tocqueville shared a romanticised view of nature, perceiving it as an already perfect and fully formed entity. Their aesthetic preference was akin to Catlin’s paintings, which they envisioned adorning a mantelpiece. They never entertained the notion that nature could be improved upon, made more accessible for outdoor activities, or that indigenous communities had been diligently shaping and caring for the landscape for centuries before their arrival.
Fast forward to the United States, where signs of a potential shift in conservation practices emerge after a century of this mindset. This year, California officially returns guardianship of the Redwoods National Park to its traditional owners. A 211-hectare section of sequoia forest within the Sinkyone Wilderness State Park has been entrusted to the care of the InterTribal Sinkyone Wilderness Council, which represents the members of approximately 10 tribes that share the Sinkyone language.
While this arrangement may not fully align with the collaborative model prevalent in New Zealand, it has enabled the park to better reflect the land’s heritage before becoming a state park. The council has also bestowed upon the area a new name, “Tc’ih-Léh-Dûñ,” which holds significant meaning for Crista Ray, of Pomo and Sinkyone ancestry. She expressed pride in using this name, stating, “It conveys the sacredness of the place and reminds people of the existence of a language and a people who inhabited it long before this era.”
It is evident that national parks vary widely across different nations. While there is room for evolution in conservation practices, it is heartening to hope that, in 150 years, these parks will still be recognised and cherished by future generations.
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