Do you like compromise?

Fuck no.

But unless we give something, we’re stuck with:

War.

Specifically, the Tasmanian Forest War: a repetitive, exhausting onslaught of slogans, press releases, arrests, court cases, political cycles and the steady erosion of trust. A soul-destroying stalemate.

The thing about this war is that the people on both sides are excellent. I’ve partied across the trenches, and let me tell you, at 3 in the morning on the dancefloor, or around a fire by the beach, I’m overcome by an epiphany: if only the others could be here, they would feel this too. That is the Forest Congress Mission: ensuring all sides see the sunrise together.

The Congress has been working on this for years. We started in 2023 as a gathering of people who profoundly hated each other. And some of us still do. These days, most of us mainly like each other, and the haters, for the most part, are people who quit or never came at all.

For those who’ve stuck it out, it’s almost fun now. Last week, at a small Congress gathering, one delegate said, ‘That’s really stupid, mate. Yeah um, nice try but… NO!’ Everyone laughed. We were discussing the difficult issue of an age cap on regrowth forestry. The disagreement was real, but the atmosphere was convivial.

When people sit together long enough, they build rapport.

The Forest Congress is moderated sessions, field trips, art experiences, ocean immersions, saunas, smoking ceremonies and karaoke. It’s serious negotiation and debate.

There has been no magic bullet—well, tequila. There’s been patience, vulnerability, and hope. And a basic code of ethics: don’t be a dick.

Back in the boardroom, for the first time in decades, someone put an offer on the table that might actually be viable.¹ The Palawa community proposed an end to old-growth logging, with a cap on regrowth forest harvest at 80 years. They asked the Congress to endorse it. Pretty much everyone agreed—it was, after all, very generous compared to the number put forward by the hard left environmental movement: ZERO.

Everyone signed except one. ‘Come on mate, it ain’t that hard, you can do it!’ a greenie egged him on.

In the end everyone agreed to End Old-Growth Logging. Did you hear that?

They agreed to End Old-Growth Logging!

The exact age limit on regrowth forests (forests that have been clearfelled in the past) remains to be negotiated. One forester wants to continue selectively harvesting 120-year-old trees in mixed-age forests. And there is the issue of guaranteeing supply of specialty timber to traditional craftspeople and furniture makers (these trees are much older). So we agreed to address these details with stakeholders, while the general principal holds.

Thanks to the iron balls in the room (let’s face it, most foresters are men), people were able to set aside their differences and cross a divide. They acted with courage and generosity.

Not everyone was nice. Not to give you the hot goss, but one green leader stood up and delivered an angry ultimatum, then stormed out of the session. He was upset, understandably, but the anger was contagious, and members who’d agreed to the statement withdrew their signatures. ‘I refuse to be held hostage!’

‘Pleeeease,’ I pleaded, ‘This isn’t about you.’ (My life is herding cats.) ‘This is something bigger than ourselves, a legacy we’re leaving generations.’

‘…You don’t cut down old-growth forests anyway!’ I yelled at another obstinate, absconding forester. ‘You made that decision yourself! This is your chance to show the world your vision.’

‘I'm afraid people will think we’re ending all native forest logging.’

Fair. People get confused. So let’s spell it out:

Old-growth forests are forests whose ancient character has never been interrupted by industrial felling. Their ecological complexity, cultural memory, and uninterrupted continuity make them iconic (I have to use that word for the gen Zs and Alphas). These are the forests the Congress is agreeing to protect.

The hard left position, on the other hand, is to end ALL native logging. In their view, plantations are the only forestry permissible. As someone who studied permaculture I find this ecologically depressing. Isn’t a diverse native ecosystem preferable to a single-species monoculture for growing wood?² Can’t we practise native forestry while retaining habitat, cultural values and ecological function? More moderate environmentalists think so. But there is raging debate.

The environmental hard line did not arise out of nowhere. Bad practices eroded good faith. The ravages of industrial clear-felling virgin forests have inspired environmentalists to fear any native forestry. There’s a real lack of trust.

Meanwhile, forestry communities fear their towns will be written off by people who have never visited them. They resent this out-of-touch idealism. They feel villainised and misunderstood.

And so two intractable positions push further into their trenches. And as with any war, there are bad outcomes for everyone:

1. While the two sides argue, old-growth forests are lost. We destroy the thing we are fighting for.
2. Because the industry fears that only plantations will be tolerated, they are incentivised to convert native forests into monocultures.

We are losing old growth AND native forests and nobody wants this. In search of a breakthrough I looked to history:

With malice toward none, and charity for all, let us strive to bind history’s wounds.

—Abraham Lincoln [as edited by me, he was too wordy]

And my mentor:

Never assume the motives of others are less noble to them than yours are to you.
—John Perry Barlow

I knew there was a middle road. So I took these words of wisdom (written by white men) and I tried to move things forward. I could not.

Enter Palawa.

For the first time in ages someone has shown leadership in the form of a viable deal on the table. A peace offering. The Palawa proposal protects ancient ecosystems while securing rural livelihoods. This is a fresh and necessary vision.

And the benefit is tremendous: We stop destroying what we’re fighting for.

Members of the left who have never come to the table are backing the Palawa position because they believe in indigenous leadership. But it’s delicate. Our ideologies are tied to our identities, our histories and sense of purpose. Anyone taking this step is brave and deserves credit.

The same respect is due industry and workers who are prepared to lay down their differences and accept responsibility to improve practices. That leadership is brave and commendable.

This agreement does not ask anyone to abandon their values, or destroy their livelihoods. ‘It’s lights out for me,’ said one sawmiller. No! We are committed to these parameters: As a result of this agreement, everyone ends up better.

We are taking Palawa’s lead and asking the government to back this with a guarantee:
MORE jobs than when we started.
MORE native forests in better condition.
And our precious old growth protected.

We are deciding this work is worth it, and that our differences are less important than our shared success.

Back to the hot goss. In the heat of the moment the Wilderness Society put out a press release formally withdrawing from the Congress. The industry wasn’t moving quickly enough. (I thought they were moving lightning quick! It had been two days since the offer was put on the table, and 90 per cent had signed on!) I was depressed because the Wilderness Society has been a great ally, and I like them as friends. ‘Don’t worry,’ said a sawmiller who himself had only just returned to the table. ‘We leave, and we come back again, that’s how these things go.’ He shared a podcast on the Good Friday peace talks that had inspired his return. (Please share that with the Wilderness Society, sawmiller.)

Later that evening, at dinner in Thailand (it’s been a long week) I was sitting next to a politician (all the dignitaries were there for the Mona Bangkok announcement).³ My nerves were fried and I was tearing up. He sipped his coconut margarita. ‘You know, I think I’ve fried all my nerves to the extent they’re all dead, I’m like a cyborg now, and nothing bothers me.’ I looked at him enviably. So that’s the secret. I raised my glass to the Wilderness Society. Thank you for making me a cyborg.

Our Thai hosts were Buddhists. In their tradition the destruction of desire and attachment is welcome. It reveals our inner self. Like a ragged rock in a river, life wears away our edges to reveal a smooth surface. As cool as a reflective pool. That’s what the politician was really saying.

On the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence (I know, more white men) I re-read the preamble. It inspired a tear. Then I read Nelson Mandela and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (to balance things out), and the Gettysburg Address (whatevs, a reversion). Then I took all the accumulated thoughts, sketches and submissions of all the Forest Congress sessions and I fed them to AI, along with the above inspirational material. It said:
‘Thank you. What a considered and thoughtful approach.’
I said: ‘Don’t talk to me like that. Just act normal.’
It said: ‘I’m sorry, you’re right, that was misguided of me. Here is the sum of all the Congress submissions from previous sessions as informed by your work with the Forest Congress and the above inspirational material. I have chosen to emphasise commonalities and eliminate divisive statements.’

Well that ruled a few things out. But it’s pretty whole. It even has Bob Brown’s AI address from 2023, back when AI was cutting edge. By the way, early AI did the seating plan for the first Congress feast. No human could have pulled that off! Anyway, smooshing all these inputs together AI came out with:

We come together not because we agree, but because we belong to the same place.

We come as Palawa people and those who have arrived more recently; contractors, conservationists, forest workers, firefighters, sawmillers, scientists, environmentalists, technologists, public servants, beekeepers and artists. We bring different histories, different knowledge, different experiences and different convictions. We have inherited disagreements that have endured for generations.

But beyond our differences, we share something deeper.

We love Lutruwita Tasmania.

Nice! I was feeling inspired. I edited it (the above is heavily edited), passed it around, and incorporated the words of others, in particular Graeme Elphinstone and Cody Gangell-Smith, What a collaboration—match made in heaven! We concluded with:

May we leave behind not only healthier forests, but a healthier way of speaking to one another.

May future generations inherit living forests, thriving communities and the knowledge that when our differences mattered less than our shared responsibility, we found the courage to lay them down.
For the forests.

For our families.

For those who will one day walk beneath these trees after us.

Then we cut it way down to the point it was basically unrecognisable and added a few clunky sentences (because that’s how democracy works, everyone needs a voice).

‘I liked it better when it was just my edit,’ Cody said (you should ask him for it, it’s beautiful).

‘I agree,’ I told him. ‘I liked it better when it was just mine.’

But it’s great! It’s all of us.

And in that spirit this seems like a good moment to introduce you to our Shared Vision Statement. It’s only a beginning. Let’s all write together what’s next.

1. I.e. it might cause the right amount of mutual dissatisfaction.

2. In truth there is space for both. Plantations provide quick timber for general use, supplying everything from toothpicks to framing timber. The drawback is they require copious amounts of pesticides, herbicides and animal culling through shooting or the use of 1080 (a poison to kill the native animals). All this is improving. My point is not that plantations are bad, but that they are not superior to native production forests.

Native forests exist within nature. They are woven into nature's fabric, and thus are self-perpetuating (no pesticides, no heavy handed interventions) and biodiverse. They are also less productive, growing better wood over longer time periods. They produce a higher value product—what architects like to use in finishes.

Of course these are generalisations. There are all kinds of forests, from native plantations to post clear-felled, post hot-burn regrowth (which are basically native plantations). There are selective, mixed species forests with understories and canopies intact.

And there are plantations that are more attuned to nature. That’s where we hope they are heading. All production forests have their merits and pitfalls with varying degrees of controversy.

3. The museum in Thailand is not called Mona Bangkok, David would like you to know. The name is undecided, so it’s a working title.