Over the Easter weekend, seventy anti-mining protestors occupied the site of the proposed Bathhurst mine on the uniquely biodiverse Denniston Plateau on the West Coast. Here are two of their stories.
NB: This action was organised by 350 Aotearoa and Climate Liberation Aotearoa. For more information on these groups, or to join, support or follow their work, click on the links!
Protest Notes, by Masha Oliver
We’re sitting on the edge of a man-made drainage lake, staring at the landscape scar in front of us. A hill, cut in half and completely deformed, exposing layers and layers of rock, from grey sandstone at the top through wide streaks of white to a thick vain of deep black coal. It’s like looking at an abstract painting, as well as looking back in time. A human could not paint it better. Above it, stretches a banner: “Just transition off coal.”
It’s the first day of our encampment on Denniston Plateau as part of non-violent direct action for climate justice and to protect the unique landscape and biodiversity of the Plateau. Morning graciously offers us a window of sunny weather, which we use to roll out the banners, take some photos, chant and sing out loud what needs to be heard – Protect Denniston plateau! I look around and see all these people – from kids to elders – who I’ve never met before, coming together for the same reason, to protect something we all deeply care about. There’s a wonderful feeling of pride and power resonating through us. The spirits are high as we buckle down for the cyclone that is on its way and prepare for the main actions later in the weekend.
Photo: Neil Silverwood
We’ve come here because we all – the whole planet – are running out of time. We’ve come here because there is no planet B or a spare atmosphere we could replace and wrap our Earth in. We’re here because we know everything on this planet is intricately linked and can only exist in coexistence, which requires a stable climate. We are here because the new mine on Denniston Plateau, proposed by Australian-based mining company Bathurst, if developed, will create the same amount of emissions as the whole Aotearoa New Zealand produces in a year. Over 25 years it will extract 20 million tons of coal – in an era when the rest of the world is transitioning off fossil fuels, when global warming has already overshot the predicted models, environmental collapse is happening all around us and climate events are threatening the livelihoods and homes of our communities and communities around the world.
The mine is one of the listed fast-track projects. The fast-track legislation circumvents the laws designed to protect the environment and health of people. There is no participation process in the fast-track legislation. The legislation prevents public scrutiny and bypasses environmental considerations. Fast track is an assault on the environment and democracy and it has so far, resurrected certain projects that have previously been declined as they proved environmentally unacceptable. This is happening in a country that is perceived on the world stage as the “green queen” with strong democratic roots.
Photo: Geoff Keey
The specific piece of land where the mine is proposed is public land. It belongs to all New Zealanders and is managed on behalf of Kiwis by the Department of Conservation. It is public conservation land, put aside for protection in perpetuity due to its natural values. When DOC was established in 1987, huge parts of public conservation land were put aside, waiting to get properly assessed and classified either as National Park, Conservation Area, Ecological Area or any other classification designed to protect the natural or historical values of the public conservation land. This never happened, but a reclassification process started a couple of years ago. A national panel of experts suggested this land becomes a Conservation Area – assuring the lowest protection possible – while environmental NGOs like Forest and Bird, Environmental Defense Society and Federated Mountain Clubs among others, suggested this to be a Scientific Reserve – which protects the land to even greater extent then National Park and permits no mining. This classification was suggested due to the incredible ecological richness of the area, with many endangered and endemic species living here, many of which have not even been identified yet.
Photo: Geoff Keey
I am no scientist or ecologist. But I am a lucid observer and I have spent my entire life roaming through natural landscapes. I can tell, usually just by moving through the land, how special and alive the land is. Coming to the camp spot, I was blown away by the landscape we traversed. Sandstone pavements, rocky outcrops, bonsai-looking bush stunted by extreme living conditions, and the wild Tasman Sea in the distance. This 40 million years old plateau laying 600-1000m high, is a place close to heaven – braided with streams and gorges, dappled with areas of high wetlands, extensive pieces of land mass rolling out as far as an eye can travel, with areas covered in red tussock, takahe’s favourite delicacy. The landscape seems surreal – something I have not seen elsewhere in New Zealand and I have tramped in many places. Looking at it from the birds-eye perspective on Google Earth, it stands out from afar – if you let your eyes travel up and down the island you will not see anything like it. It is truly unique.
And so is the abundant life up here. As we make our way to the camp, a fern bird, an extremely rare bird, flies by. This is a sanctuary for Great spotted kiwi, rare skins, ancient velvet worms, giant snails, weta, geckos, rare moths … The area is, as surveys in the past showed, of high ecological value. Many species here have not been identified yet. Bathurst’s mining project, if it goes ahead, will cause irreversible biodiversity loss, habitat and landscape destruction, increased carbon emissions, and acid metallic drainage that needs critical management for 100 years. Endemic plants and animals will be lost. This will all happen on Aotearoa New Zealand public conservation land with no public input. The profits will go to a private company, with 90% overseas shareholders.
Photo: Geoff Keey
And that’s why we are here. When there is no option for advocacy and dialogue anymore, action needs to take place. Our encampment is a compact flock of colourful tents in an area that was used by Bathurst as an operational pad for the nearby mining. From where we’re camped, we can see the hill, covered in bush, that will be beheaded, if this project goes ahead. There are about 70 of us here and I don’t know one single person, but walking through the camp, I feel I have slipped into a community, where everyone knows each other and a strong quiet sense of camaraderie resonates between us. As the rain settles in, so do we, under the big marquee, where the learning and collaboration begin. We’re learning about facilitation and de-escalation strategies. We discuss and practice how to react and talk to media, police or locals if any of them turn up. We look at the issue from many sides – what would you say to a local who works in the mine and needs to put food on the table? We head out for a botanical walk, to familiarize ourselves with what is at stake. More learning follows – about the context of the fast track bill, the mining plans and Bathurst. A workshop facilitated by a local environmental group takes us through details and different perspectives of the issues – what we are about to lose, what are the gains, and what are the false gains portrayed by Bathurst and the government. The hardest part to digest it the presentation from a university researcher. We are warned it will be grim, so we brace ourselves.
Tim, who has dedicated his master’s study to climate change, takes us step by step through the facts – what we already know and what the models show. It is not pretty. In fact, it is terrifying. We have already passed 1.5-degrees warming and plants have reached the peak of carbon dioxide sequestation in 2008. Proportion absorbed has been declining since. Emissions would need to fall by 0.3% per year, just to stand still, though at the moment, they are increasing by 1.2% per year.
It is no better on the fauna front. The total global insect population has declined by 41% in the last decade and animal populations have experienced a 70% average decline since 1970. Human-made materials now outweigh Earth’s entire biomass. The amount of plastic alone is greater in mass than all land animals and marine creatures combined. Looking at the effects of global warming in New Zealand, the most jarring one is the loss of 1/3 of the entire glacier mass since 2000. The sea water heatwave in 2022 pushed the water temperature to 4.4 C above average, causing the deaths of millions of marine sponges in Fiordland.
At 3C or more of heating by 2050, there could be more than 4 billion deaths, significant sociopolitical fragmentation worldwide, failure of states – with resulting rapid, enduring, and significant loss of capital – and extinction events.
I’m listening and the facts, one by one, are landing heavy on my mind, to a point, when I feel my cheeks are hot with tears. I don’t dare to look around, as I feel that will break me, but I sense the heaviness has landed on everyone and the mood has shifted. The question is not if we are crashing or not, the question is how hard we crash.
A support and debrief session is offered after Tim’s talk to help us process what we’ve heard. I fear it will make it worse, so I walk out. When I return, I find Tara completely red-eyed. She hasn’t stopped crying.
Photo: Neil Silverwood
Ironically enough, our climate justice action coincides with the arrival of yet another cyclone. Despite persistent rain and Tim’s talk, the spirits remain high. We prepare the camp for even more rain to come – the tents are readjusted and secured by rocks, and the drainage channels are dug while the dinner is being cooked. There is very little need for coordination and instructions. Everyone seems to make themselves useful with not much talking. People see work and pick it up. Things just get done. I’m impressed with how well everything is organized and how smoothly everything seems to flow. Regular check-ins make sure we see how we’re feeling collectively. No one seems to be taking too much space or air time. It seems all egos got left at the bottom of the hill. I wish every workplace would function like this. Decisions are made with everyone’s input, but somehow very quickly and nimbly. I have worked in many places and been part of many groups. I have never experienced such cohesion and a sense of unity before. I haven’t even imagined something like this is possible.
Sunday is spent in preparation for the main two actions on Monday – to climb up the towers and occupy the coal buckets bringing coal from Stockton mine, stopping operations for 24 hours, which later on extends into 60 hours, and an expedition to a Happy Valley, a place of resistance and protest about 20 years ago, an operating Cypress mine today. While climbers are practising their rope work and the support crew is preparing for the off-site action, the deluge begins. The rain is hard and persistent. Only later we hear about the flooding of the roads down below the hill, in Waimangaroa. The fire brigades are called out throughout the night. The camp remains standing. As the night falls, there is a curtain of water surrounding us. We gather in one and only dry communal space, normally used as a kitchen. There’s a feeling of excitement in the air, but also the anxiety of what the morning might bring. Everything feels heightened. Dinner is being cooked while the climbers and action groups are frantically packing in the dark, walking around with their climbing gear and harnesses still on. It is impossible not to feel in the way, or be constantly pushing through a mass of damp bodies. The camp turns into chaos for a few seconds, we’re all blinding each other with torches, frantically trying to pack or help with packing.
Photo: Neil Silverwood
The next day I wake up to the news that the bucket crew made it in the buckets. Feeling happy are not words that I use lightly, but there is no other way to feel right now. The steely sky and the promise of more rain fade away by expanding happiness and pride. Only a small group of us remain at the camp – we’re holding the fort throughout the day, as the news starts trickling in. First is the news from our groups – the bucket team, the Happy Valley team, and the support crews. Then the media news starts popping up. And then suddenly, it’s all happening – Bathurst, Department of Conservation, our lawyer, police – everyone is on board and communicating. We get visitors to the camp – friendly locals bring us doughnuts and come to show their appreciation and support.
As I am washing the dishes, and listening to the news from our crew in the field, a robin lands on my head. A brief light touch, almost fleeting, yet a certain blessing. I know I am where I’m supposed to be.
I can still feel the brush of wild and divine on my head. It’s a reminder and a plea. To keep returning to Denniston.
I know I am not the only one, returning. We are many. And we will not give up.
Photo: Neil Silverwood
Denniston, by Ben Lowe
Denniston is the most amazing place, maybe the most amazing place in New Zealand. It is also the most pivotal place in New Zealand. The reason it is so amazing is that the flora and fauna there is unique. The reason it is so pivotal is because it perfectly encompasses the two sides of the climate debate. Under this unique environment is coal, the most climate-destroying fossil fuel. To lose here is to lose everywhere.
Photo: Geoff Keey
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