protected areas

Changes in climate can also affect recreational uses and visitation patterns in protected areas (Lise & Tol, 2002; Scott & Johns, 2005). The water vapour content of air, wind speed and air temperature affect human body comfort. High temperature, high humidity and low winds bring most heat discomfort, whereas low humidity and strong winds increase cooling rates (Christopherson, 1995). Temperature is one of the most important factors in tourists’ visitation patterns. Generally, regardless of other factors, an average temperature of about 21°C is the ideal for the large bulk of international tourists (Lise & Tol, 2002). Maddison (2001) believes quarterly climate variables can be used to explain differences in flows of tourists (Maddison, 2001).

In 2006 (updated in 2010), the International Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) made an international com- mitment to conserve “at least 17 per cent of terrestrial and inland waters, and 10 per cent of coastal and marine areas, (…) through effectively and equitably managed, ecologically representative and well-connected systems of protected areas (…) by 2020,” which is known as Aichi Target 11 [4]. Following this declaration, the number of PAs increased in the subsequent years to the present, resulting in more than 10 million km 2 of MPAs worldwide and a 360% growth in only 10 years [1, 18, 19, 22, 33]. For example, the 1.1 million-km 2 Marae Moana: Cook Islands Marine Park, which was created in 2012, as well as the 1.3 million-km 2 Parc naturel de la mer de Corail in 2014 and the more recent (2015) 500,000-km 2 Palau National Marine Sanctuary. This trend is also observable in Chile, where the largest MPAs in South America, the Motu Motiro Hiva Marine Park (150,000 km 2 ) and the Nazca- Desventuradas Marine Park (300,035 km 2 ), were created in 2010 and 2016, respectively. This rapid increasing in large-scale MPAs in recent years has allowed nations to join international conservation agreements, whether geo-political or ecological, to meet self-imposed protection targets.

One biome stands out amongst all the others: The Amazon. With a much larger geographical area, occupying almost 50% of the country, and with the greatest number of federal protected areas and PABCs, it accounts alone for over 80% of all the federal protected areas in Brazil, with 15% of its entire territory protected in this way. The Amazon is a particularly high-profile biome, attract- ing the attention of all sectors of national and international society and a whole host of diverse interests and actors. This leaves the other biomes at a relative disadvantage in terms of protection, which together account for around 20% of all the federal protected areas. In particular, the Cerrado and Atlantic Forest de- serve special attention, as their rich diversity is under increasing threat, includ- ing several endangered species.

The case studies were four protected areas in Mexico and five in Canada. In Mexico was Izta-Popo-Zoquiapan National Park (Mexico-Puebla-Morelos); El Pinacate y Gran Desierto de Altar Biosphere Reserve (Sonora); Ría Lagartos Biosphere Reserve (Yucatán); and the Ajos-Bavispe y Buenos Aires Reserve for Protection of Flora, Fauna and Forests (Sonora). In Canada was Grasslands National Park (Saskatchewan), Fundy National Park (New Bruns- wick), Pacific Rim National Park (British Columbia), Point Pelee National Park (Ontario), and Waterton Lakes National Park (Alberta).

Title The Protected Areas Selected for Research into the Organisational Structures of their Managing Agencies Research Design - Main Components The Great Barrier Reef Marine Park· Great [r]

Protected areas (PAs) constitute major tools in nature conservation. In the European Union (EU), the Birds and Habitats Directives are the most important policies for conservation strategy, legally preserving Europe’s characteristic, rare, endemic and threatened biota. We used occurrence data for species listed in the directives’ Annexes to assess the uniqueness of major PAs in the EU (National Parks, Biosphere Reserves); this is important for preserving the EU’s focal species. We developed a novel, multifunctional approach to calculate different metrics of conservation value that represent different components of species diversity within the PAs, involving inventory diversity, deviation from the species–area relationship, species rarity and differentiation diversity. Applying it, we found that individual PAs frequently vary considerably in their scores on different components, which are often disconnected from PA size. PAs around the EU periphery, often containing few species, are key to conserving species that are rare in the EU. Because our analysis focuses on EU priority species and includes different components of diversity, it allows more appropriate estimation of conservation value inside PAs in context of the EU than recent, high-profile, global-level research. We offer tools to evaluate, and information to regulate, the representativeness, persistence and efficiency of PAs.

When the protected areas, which were declared so with the aim of ensuring the continuity of our natural and cultural resource values and biodiversity, are used by people who do not have a certain level of awareness; it will not be possible to state that the protection factor is provided effectively. As a matter of fact, when all the protection movements based on the future of societies and the sustainability of natural resources remain outside the society, they cannot fulfil the essential function of theirs. As a result of the emerging results from this study investigating the level of awareness on conservation status; it can be seen that the local people are not aware of the concept of protected areas and conservation statuses at all. In the tourism activities that the trio of see, visit and have fun have become more dominant, especially conservation status and our protected resource values should be evaluated by a protectionist tourism approach. For this, of course, the first step should be awareness. The fact that the protected area status of Ölüdeniz, which has a worldwide reputation, is known by very few people at the same has mainly stemmed from the fact that promotions are done mainly in terms of tourism. The promotion of our protected resource values used for tourism promotion should done not only to ensure the at- tract tourists, but also to raise and establish conservation awareness.

Our analyses suggest that the most sensitive guilds in tropical protected areas include apex predators, large non-predatory vertebrates, bats, stream-dwelling amphibians, terrestrial amphibians, lizards and larger reptiles, non-venomous snakes, freshwater fish, large-seeded old- growth trees, epiphytes, and ecological specialists (all P < 0.0056, with effect sizes ranging from -0.36 to -1.05; Supplementary Table 2). Several other groups were somewhat less vulnerable, including primates, understory insectivorous birds, large frugivorous birds, raptorial birds, venomous snakes, species that require tree-cavities, and migratory species (all P<0.05, with effect sizes from -0.27 to -0.53). In addition, five groups increased markedly in abundance in the reserves, including pioneer and generalist trees, lianas and vines, invasive animals, invasive plants, and human diseases (all P < 0.0056, with effect sizes from 0.44 to 1.17).

I witnessed APUs employ the tactics just described to pin suspected poachers down on many occasions. Poachers are kept in and left to die in a literal sense. Rangers explained that they know poachers ’ food and water supplies are limited. By controlling the space and environment in which sus- pected poachers are located, the strategy is to keep them contained in an area as long as possible to either find them or force them to make a risky and careless escape, thus increasing the chances for rangers to neutralize them. On some occasions, poachers even willingly surrender out of desperation for water in the hot and dry heat of the savannah. I observed how an APU uses dogs to contain poachers in an area or force them out of hiding lest they be attacked. Pinning poachers down or fixing them in harsh spaces of conservation is thus a method of using the “ direct effects of the geographical, climatic, or hydrographic environment ” not to make people live but to make wildlife live by controlling and neutralizing the circulating threat embodied in the poacher (Foucault 2003, 245; also see Shaw 2016). Even without killing, the capture and arrest of a sus- pected illegal hunter ostensibly achieves the same objective of doing away with the threat, at least temporarily. The biopolitics of policing protected areas thus turns on enclosing a hostile human life, the illegal hunter, to protect the existence of valued and threatened nonhuman life.

Epidemics of contagious bovine pleuropneumonia in the 1850s (Dupuy et al. 2012), rinderpest in 1896-97 (Mariner et al. 2012), and overhunting led to severe depletion of herds of domestic stock, as well as wildlife (Dupuy et al. 2012, Mariner et al. 2012). Protected areas were therefore established for wildlife (Cumming 2004) using fences to separate wild and domestic ungulates (D’Amico Hales et al. 2004). The commercial and subsistence use of wildlife was banned, thereby alienating commercial and communal farmers from wildlife (Dupuy et al. 2012). In many southern African countries, legislative changes in the 1960s gave private land-owners the right to manage and benefit from their wildlife (Bond et al. 2004) and resulted in a diversification of the scale, type, and ownership of protected areas in the region. Protected areas in southern Africa now include private, community, and state-owned initiatives, and range from small- scale (< 15,000 ha) game reserves, to large-scale Transfrontier Conservation Areas, which span multiple countries. Although exact data are hard to come by, nature-based tourism contributes substantially to the region’s economy (Scholes and Biggs 2004). Many livelihoods in rural southern Africa are therefore dependent on two, frequently co-occurring enterprises: wildlife-based tourism in protected areas and domestic animal production (both commercial and subsistence). The resultant interface between domestic animals, people, and wildlife can give rise to human- wildlife conflict (Cumming and Atkinson 2012) including conflict that arises as a result of diseases moving across the interface. The nature of the human-wildlife conflict attributable to a disease will depend on social and ecological factors such as disease epidemiology (Table 2) and protected area or domestic animal management. Within southern Africa, multiple diseases with varying epidemiologies have been recorded within and/or around protected areas (Cumming and Atkinson 2012). This allows us to explore a variety of disease-related effects on protected area resilience.

the potential to undermine conservation efforts, particularly where species richness is evenly distributed in the landscape so that new protected areas have comparable species richness to areas left unprotected, or where conservation is implemented opportunistically. Moreover, we demonstrate that using systematic conservation planning to choose the highest value parcels has heightened importance in instances where leakage is present, as a structured approach can avoid the possibility of net negative biodiversity outcomes. By preferentially working in regions with heterogeneous biodiversity, and by foregoing conservation opportunities that are likely to displace threats into high biodiversity locations, the negative impacts of leakage on biodiversity outcomes can be minimized. To ensure that the establishment of a protected area does not sim- ply result in a shift of the degrading activity to areas outside the protected area the underlying drivers of biodiversity loss and the behaviour of the people who use the area need to be ad- dressed [28]. Further research into the process and drivers of leakage needs to be undertaken to better inform decision-making for conservation acquisition.

Schultz et al. 2011). A meta-analysis of 55 studies identified participation as a critical factor influencing compliance with protected areas (Andrade and Rhodes 2012). However, our results suggest that only the higher levels of involvement with MPA decisions were positively related to compliance. Simply supporting an MPA, or being weakly involved in decisions, seems insufficient to positively influence compliance (Fig. 1). In fact, some studies mention that participation can have negative outcomes, such as dilution of scientific input and “elite capture,” a situation in which only some participate and displace others (Schultz et al. 2011). We did not collect information to further describe the participation processes and therefore cannot determine if some aspects of participation were eroding compliance in our study sites. It has been suggested that elite capture of participation applies in Golfo Dulce (Solis et al. 2012), and this might negatively affect compliance. Management interventions should be adaptive, aiming for high levels of participation that foster positive outcomes such as empowerment, legitimacy, and ultimately, increased compliance. Some of these positive outcomes can also be stimulated earlier through an MPA’s planning process.

Landcare Research, a New Zealand Crown Research Institute, completed an Environmental Domains Analysis under contract to Antarctica New Zealand and the Department of Conservation in 2007. The result of this research was the identification of 21 distinct environmental domains in Antarctica based on underlying measurable physical characteristics including climate, slope, land cover and geological features. The Environmental Domains Analysis is currently on file with the Committee for Environmental Protection. While currently unused for environmental protection, these domains provide a systematic approach for establishing protected areas to ensure a representative cross section of all environment types in Antarctica are covered by ASPA (Morgan, Barker, Briggs, Price and Keys, 2007).

The overarching sovereignty of the nation-state, in both of the case studies examined, continues to shape and influence, and in some cases, limit Indigenous engagement in the respective protected areas. For example, in the case of Sweden, the nation-state up until recently did not recognise the Sámi as an Indigenous Peoples. The Swedish Constitution mentions Sámi People as a minority and recognises their culture and community life as distinct and important. However, until the Sámi Act came into place in 1992, establishing a Sámi Parliament to work towards promoting a living Sámi culture, Sámi identification and recognition was missing from government formalities. The Swedish nation-state now recognises Sámi People under criteria outlined in the Sámi Parliament Act 1992. The Swedish nation-state retains the right to determine Sámi identity, such as through membership of reindeer economic organisations (Samebys) (see Chapter 5). This ongoing ‘input’ by the nation-state remains a significant influence on modern day Sámi governance. Additionally, the nation-state interventions around membership of Sámi reindeer organisations have driven tribal divergences (e.g. between coastal/fishing Sámi and Sámi reindeer herders) that significantly affect the Sámi community as a whole. Strict criteria determine eligibility for Sámi reindeer organisation membership, rather than customary bloodline decent or self-determined identity. Further, the nation-state controls Sámi economic entrepreneurship and security in relation to reindeer herding. Implications of these legislative enforcements for the modern Sámi reindeer industry include influences on Sámi governance systems and knowledge application.

Large marine protected areas (LMPAs) are increasingly being established and have a high profile in marine conservation. LMPAs are expected to achieve multiple objectives, and because of their size are postulated to avoid trade-offs that are common in smaller MPAs. However, evaluations across multiple outcomes are lacking. We used a systematic approach to code several social and ecological outcomes of 12 LMPAs. We found evidence of three types of trade-offs: trade-offs between different ecological resources (supply trade- offs); trade-offs between ecological resource conditions and the well-being of resource users (supply-demand trade-offs); and trade-offs between the well-being outcomes of differ- ent resource users (demand trade-offs). We also found several divergent outcomes that were attributed to influences beyond the scope of the LMPA. We suggest that despite their size, trade-offs can develop in LMPAs and should be considered in planning and design. LMPAs may improve their performance across multiple social and ecological objectives if integrated with larger-scale conservation efforts.

As development pressures increase, desig- nated protected areas are sometimes dimin- ished by legal means (Mascia and Pailler, 2011). In Africa, for instance, states have been known to reduce the size, contiguousness and protection status of reserves to allow new roads, mining, energy projects and other activities to expand. At least 23 African protected areas have been downsized or downgraded (Edwards et al., 2014, table 1). Mining occurs more frequently in close prox- imity to protected areas in Africa than in either Asia or Latin America (Durán, Rauch and Gaston, 2013). Even natural World Heri- tage Sites, the global pinnacle of conserva- tion, have been subjected to mining or fossil fuel exploration or development, with 30 sites in 18 African countries affected to date (WWF, 2015a). In the Republic of Guinea, for example, the Mount Nimba Biosphere Reserve, a World Heritage site, was down- sized by 15.5 km2 (1,550 ha) to allow for iron ore prospecting. An even greater concern is Zambia, where nearly 650 km2 (65,000 ha) of land within 19 protected areas has been downgraded to permit mining activities (Edwards et al., 2014).

The Lore Lindu area in Indonesia was established as a UNESCO Biosphere reserve in 1977 and a national park (IUCN II) in 1993. Since then participatory approaches have been advocated for managing Biospheres [45] and protected areas more widely [46]. Initial efforts to im- pose external regulations failed and in the late 1990s, the park authority, NGOs and village representatives began to negotiate Community Conservation Agreements [26]. Within designated zones, village conservation councils were the bridge between the Park authority and the com- munity for planning, implementing, evaluating and report- ing the results of the Agreement. Despite the village leadership being active in the negotiations, communication between the Park authorities and the whole community was poor, so many ordinary villagers had never heard of the agreements. The Agreements covered use of forest products and land and the village conservation councils were responsible for monitoring activities. The council could employ punishments or sanctions, which were usu- ally based on village traditional rules. Insights into this system came from NGO interviewees. A collaborative management approach aimed to minimise the gap between the park management and the people, through participa- tion of local inhabitants and integration of local rules. Re- spect for the rules was greater where they were ‘more practical’ having been locally adapted, and allowed income- generating possibilities.

To be a “chartered” protected area is to be part of a journey of development, a continuous quest for successful, sustainable sharing of these magical spaces. Carefully built from the ground up, after much shared thinking, this Charter explains how to implement the concept of sustainable development in some of Europe’s most treasured places. It is itself an ongoing process: its first stage, part I, has now been successfully operating for a decade with almost 80 protected areas having been awarded the Charter; part II has had a brilliant start in many Charter areas which are involving more and more business enterprises; and

The 1972 conference marked the centenary of the founding of the fi rst modern national park at Yellowstone, USA—and fi ttingly was held at that park and at nearby Grand Teton national park. The event however was strongly forward looking. A primary example is the work begun at the 1972 conference on developing a system for categorizing protected areas (see Chapter IV). This sought to address the prevailing confusion over the meaning of terms such as “national park” and “nature reserve”. At a time when many more protected areas were being set up, ambiguity over the purposes for which areas were managed, and inconsistency in terminology hindered efforts to protect these places, to collect and analyze information about them, and to provide the scientifi c community access to better data on conservation. The Commission also helped to raise the profi le of issues such as management effectiveness and fi nancial support for protected areas. Commission Chair Jean-Paul Harroy compiled and published “World National

9. The programme of work is intended to assist Parties in establishing national programmes of work with targeted goals, actions, specific actors, time frame, inputs and expected measurable outputs. Parties may select from, adapt, and/or add to the activities suggested in the current programme of work according to particular national and local conditions and their level of development. Implementation of this programme of work should take into account the ecosystem approach of the Convention on Biological Diversity. In implementing the programme of work, Parties are encouraged to pay due regard to the social, economic and environmental costs and benefits of various options. In addition, Parties are encouraged to consider the use of appropriate technologies, source of finance and technical cooperation, and to ensure, through appropriate actions, the means to meet the particular challenges and demands of their protected areas.