Ring-barking is not a random occurrence, something that a tree must combat along with the pantheon of pathogens and diseases gunning for it every day.  Rather, it is a pre-meditated act on the part of an individual who has an issue with the trees on-going good health.  In a city where trees are constantly vying with roads and development for a piece of earth to call their own, this act of vandalism seems incomprehensible.

 My interest in the site, and the trees, is professional.  I’m sometimes paid to write about or maintain trees.  I formed an opinion pretty much instantly in this instance; righteous property owner with no time for the Resource Management Act (RMA) or the council bureaucrats who enforce it, decides to take matters into his own hands and deal to the trees.  No one is going to get in the way of his god-given right to do want he wants on his own private property.

Given the almost mythical status that trees occupy in the national psyche, this may seem a strange proposition.  But there’s no denying that trees offend a lot of people.  Leaf filled gutters, root blocked drains and crown impeded views are enough to drive normally sane individuals to apoplexy.  How long would the sacred Kauri survive if it’s only habitat was that area between Tamaki Drive and the foothills of Remuera.  “I love trees… but that view’s worth a million dollars – literally”.

 I’ve been involved in dealing with the effects of tree poisonings, surreptitious prunings and Environment Court rulings.  But I’d never come across anything on this scale. 

 The more I thought about it, the more I felt like walking away.  This encounter had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth.  The person was obviously an idiot.  Never mind the wanton damage, a number of the largest trees – eight metres plus – were immediately adjacent to the house.  It doesn’t take a genius to work out that at some point in the not too distant future, these trees were going to rot and fall down - on the house.  It didn’t know if I had the patience to accommodate this individual.  It would be like trying to give the school bully rational reasons why he shouldn’t beat you up.  No matter what you say you end up with a sore head.

 The trouble with vandalism is that it’s insidious.  When the vandals move in the whole neighbourhood goes to hell.  Disaffected elements take up the call and before you know it they’re spray painting the school walls and pissing on the toilet seats.  It’s an attitude thing, a release - a kind of keeping-down-with-the-Jones’s. 

 Some English city councils use this line of reasoning to argue against using ‘pollarding’  - a fairly extreme form of tree pruning - as a tool to manage their tree resource.  They point out, quite reasonably, that if the civic authorities hack the tops off their trees, how can they prevent the locals from doing the same?

Of course vandalism and extreme tree pruning may seem to be poles apart.  (I’m defining ring barking as extreme tree pruning, as the tree will eventually have to be pruned from the bottom.)  But both are making a statement, conscious or unconscious, about how the perpetrator sees the world.  Have you ever noticed how easy it is to start pruning your shrub or favourite tree only to find out that hours have gone by and your garden looks post-apocalyptic.  

The catharsis of destruction is immediate, but like all the best highs it only lasts for an instant and leaves you hungry for another hit.  As you seek out the next fix, an internal momentum begins to build and with it comes a rational justification for each act.  Everything’s fucked up anyway, so lets fuck it up some more.  This simple truth is very sustaining, even when it begins to become patently obvious that game is almost up.  Witness the ongoing destruction of the Amazonian rain forest and primary forests of the world.  It takes some monumental mental gymnastics to justify it on the grounds of economic activity, job creation or whatever.  Who’s ever running that show must know the end is in sight, but can’t drag themselves away from the white knuckle thrills of the ride.

 Despite my reservations, I decided to talk to the guy.  I wanted to know why he’d knobbled the trees.  Although I’d written him off as a fruit, upon meeting him I softened a little.  He was barefoot, smiley faced and talked warmly and knowledgeably about my home country, Ireland.  I also noticed that he had a large number of native plants ready to be planted or already in the ground around the house.

I should point out that he was no hippy.  Rather an exemplary entrepreneur – running his own successful business and working his own hours.

 He told me that the property was crossed leased.  The trees were in fact owned by six properties.  This made the ring barking seem even crazier.  Not only was he going to have to pay the various fines incurred for breaching the RMA, there was the possibility that his disgruntled neighbours would try to topple him in court. 

But my ring-barker was sanguine.  He was certain that the other residents would come round to his way of thinking, which was death to all exotic plants.  I thought this unlikely.  But he was not deterred.  As with all ideologues, he was bemused by the notion that anyone could have a differing opinion.

 It turned out he was advocate of native flora and fauna.  As a member of a conservation group he felt a deep connection with the land.  This did not sit easily with the picture of the tree terrorist that I had conjured up

His passion was to see native New Zealand plants returned to their rightful position as the country’s predominant cover.  This was why he’d attacked the trees.  Why should exotic trees from the Northern Hemisphere dominate, when they were ugly and invasive?  Indicating the gully below, he pointed out what happened when the land was left to regenerate.  A mix of Kawakawa, Oleria and other natives were establishing themselves, despite the competition from self-sown Privet and Wattle.  All he had done with the Birch, he argued, was to hasten the interloper’s demise so the true beauty of native plants could come shining through.

Although I was concerned about the imposition of one person’s notion of beauty over another’s, I agreed that there was something very strange about the sight of large tracts of deforested New Zealand land replanted with Northern Hemisphere exotics.  What could be weirder than driving through the Poplar and Willow lined roadsides of the Waikato before stopping awhile in the Oak-y thoroughfares of Cambridge?  It’s an alien environment, an instant coffee world – a bland approximation of the real thing.   

 The trees of New Zealand are a wild and often unruly bunch.  I suppose when the land clearers came, they viewed the native bush as an obstacle -something to be wiped out.  Certainly not something to grace the boulevards, parks and gardens of the emerging towns and cities. 

 Culling a large stand of trees may seem an extreme way to make a point. Certainly no one has a right to kill something that someone may have loved and tended.  The ring barker admitted he took to the trees in a fit of pique.  But the point is they were an ugly imposition from another culture.  A culture that was party to the destruction of vast amounts of native bush.  To add insult to injury, when they’d finished stomping the trees from round this way they had the gall to plant trees from the other side of the world. 

 I’m not sure if the act of planting a tree is an act of vandalism.  But it’s worth taking a drive out to the edge of town, any town.  To the point to where the bush is held at bay.  There’s a clear dividing line between the bush and the suburban gardens.  This is where the imported trees look their ugliest, against the backdrop of New Zealand native forest.  There’s a kind of sadness about them, the sadness that always comes with the evidence of destruction.

 The American pro-positive vandalism group, The Coalition to Raise Aesthetic Consciousness, have a very clear stance on this type of action; “We have initiated an innovative and covert campaign of guerrilla action to subvert the forces of ugliness by exposing them for what they are on their own territory.” 

So who is the vandal here?

Simon Miller - freelance journalist and arborist.

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