Research

INTRODUCTION

The scale of restoration required to reverse widespread, global declines in biodiversity requires collective action on the part of public and private sector organizations, landowners, and ordinary citizens (Guerrero et al. 2015a, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). Environmental initiatives must extend beyond traditional protected areas to focus on reducing pressures on systems, restoring ecosystem functions, and improving habitat connectivity through landscape scale restoration (Menz et al. 2013, Norton et al. 2018, Perring et al. 2018). The ecological and institutional complexity of such large-scale restoration—transgressing jurisdictional, private-public, urban-rural, and even human-nature boundaries—means that collective action for biodiversity must also be strategic and coordinated (Menz et al. 2013, Muñoz and Branzei 2021).

Previous studies reveal both the necessity and limitations of community-based restoration for addressing ecological crises (Menz et al. 2013, Mace et al. 2018, Usher 2023). The necessarily social determination of ecosystem baselines and need to live in and with restored landscapes highlight the importance of community participation for successful and just restoration (Perring et al. 2018, Osborne et al. 2021, Usher 2023). However, community-based restoration often occurs at the site scale, determined by socio-political boundaries, and lacks the spatial extent and ecological connectivity needed to improve biodiversity outcomes (Menz et al. 2013, Norton et al. 2018, Usher 2023). Without adequate expertise or information on ecosystem functioning, many community-based restoration initiatives are inadequately attuned to local conditions, limiting their ecological outcomes (Menz et al. 2013, Jones and Kirk 2018).

Recognizing these limitations, there is growing interest in scaling community-based ecosystem restoration to extend, replicate, and coordinate activities across space (Guerrero et al. 2015a, Norton et al. 2018, Fastenrath et al. 2020, Kockel et al. 2020, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). However, scaling implies more than just increasing the spatial extent of restoration; it also involves improving the efficiency and resilience of restoration initiatives, cross-scale collaboration, and changing societal norms and values (Menz et al. 2013, Guerrero et al. 2015a, Norton et al. 2018). It is therefore important to understand the social as well as ecological dimensions of scaling, to examine whether and how novel approaches may overcome, or reproduce, the limitations of traditional community restoration.

In this paper we examine one emerging approach to scaling community-based restoration: the creation of second-order organizations (e.g., networks, collaborative projects) that bring together diverse interests and dispersed community actors to work toward shared goals (Wyborn and Bixler 2013, Guerrero et al. 2015a, Maynard et al. 2020, Sinner et al. 2022a). These second-order entities involve a greater degree of social organization and coordination than traditional grassroots collective action (Dupuits et al. 2020) and have the potential to amplify community-based restoration. This trend is highly visible in Aotearoa New Zealand (henceforth Aotearoa), where a growing number of entities are forming to connect and support community groups (Norton et al. 2016, Doole 2020). However there have been few attempts to conceptualize the role and contribution of these second-order entities beyond the case study (e.g., Mumaw and Raymond 2021) or an entity type (e.g., Prager 2015). Given the diversity of entity structures and activities (e.g., Peters 2019), it is important to examine how second-order entities relate to traditional community groups and how their form and function shapes their role in scaling restoration.

We refer to these second-order entities as “restoration collectives” because of their role in connecting groups and promoting joint responses to shared goals. Based on a survey of 27 restoration collectives in Aotearoa we ask: What are common features of restoration collectives, and how do they differ from traditional community environmental groups? What are the key roles and outcomes of collectives for community-based restoration? We believe that Aotearoa is well placed to provide national scale insights on collectives’ forms and functions because of its being a small country subject to significant biodiversity loss and its reliance on community restoration efforts (Department of Conservation 2020a). Our discussion draws together our findings with international case studies to examine the potential for collectives to scale community-based ecosystem restoration.

LITERATURE REVIEW

Growth of community-based restoration

The last 30 years have been marked by the growing prevalence of and interest in community-based conservation and restoration, often through the formation of community groups to address biodiversity and other environmental crises (Pretty and Ward 2001, Bode et al. 2011, Peters et al. 2015). In Aotearoa, for example, a recent survey identified 940 community environmental groups (Sinner et al. 2022b), while more than 5000 community entities have registered for predator control since 2016^[1] (Department of Conservation 2020b).

Whereas earlier conservation initiatives focused on preserving minimally disturbed natural places and maintaining biodiversity, these community environmental groups typically focus on repairing degraded ecosystems and restoring ecological functioning to a desired state (Wiens and Hobbs 2015). Working in highly modified environments (e.g., cities, agricultural areas), they engage in a wider range of activities with more varied objectives (e.g., stream daylighting, reforestation) than traditional conservation. We therefore focus on community-based ecosystem restoration, defined by Perring et al. (2018:1018) as “the process of assisting the recovery of damaged, degraded or destroyed socio-ecological systems in changing environments, for the benefit of people and nature across scales.” Community involvement ensures restoration is appropriate for its social-ecological context and produces multi-functional landscapes that enhance both biodiversity and local livelihoods and well-being (Perring et al. 2018, Usher 2023).

However, community environmental groups face challenges in undertaking effective and efficient environmental action because of personnel, funding, and knowledge constraints, combined with significant administrative demands (Brown 2018, Shaw et al. 2018, Sinner et al. 2022b). Four surveys of community environmental groups and volunteers in Aotearoa (Table 1) reveal that groups are typically small (comprising less than 25 members) and largely comprising volunteers who are over 50 years of age and of New Zealand European descent. Although most groups are formally constituted, a 2022 survey found that 40% have no legal status, limiting their funding and contracting capabilities. Indeed, many community groups receive limited funding for their activities: 40–50% of groups receive less than $10,000 per year,^[2] and only a third have paid staff. Groups’ small size and older demographic limits their capacity to undertake large scale or long-term restoration (Peters et al. 2015), as do ongoing struggles to access adequate funding and institutional support (Brown 2018, Shanahan et al. 2021).

Moreover, critics have questioned the efficacy of community environmental action in delivering restoration of the type and at the scale needed to reverse biodiversity declines (Menz et al. 2013, Peltzer et al. 2019, Usher 2023). In Aotearoa, community groups typically undertake a combination of public engagement activities (e.g., advocacy) and weed and pest control, native planting, and environmental monitoring on predominantly public land in rural or peri-urban environments (Table 1). Such activities often lack robust ecological advice, restoration planning, or outcome monitoring (Usher 2023). Community initiatives are also typically site-scale and species-specific, focused on restoring ecosystem composition and natural amenity through “simplistic plantings” and species translocations (Menz et al. 2013, Norton et al. 2016, Peltzer et al. 2019). Mace et al. (2018:448) argue that these approaches are insufficient to address key drivers of environmental degradation or achieve improvements at pace, “amount[ing], at best, to a managed decline.”

Scaling community-based restoration

In light of these limitations, there are growing calls to scale community-based restoration (Norton et al. 2018, Perring et al 2018, Kockel et al. 2020, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). Although many calls focus on scaling up restoration to larger spatial scales, others highlight the need to better coordinate action, address key drivers of degradation, and engage a wider range of communities and socio-cultural objectives (Norton et al. 2016, Osborne et al. 2021, Usher 2023).

We find the typology of amplification processes by Lam et al. (2020) useful for conceptualizing how community-based restoration might be scaled. First, as illustrated by landscape restoration, scaling may involve “amplifying out” initiatives by extending their range (e.g., expanding predator control beyond sanctuaries), or creating new similar initiatives (e.g., new stream care groups). Second, the impact of initiatives may be increased by “amplifying within” the initiative, whether by stabilizing an existing initiative (e.g., group formalization) and thus increasing its longevity, or speeding it up (e.g., improving access to resources). Targeted restoration of ecologically effective areas (e.g., breeding sites) may also contribute to amplification within initiatives. Processes that amplify within thus promote more effective, efficient, and sustainable community restoration (cf. Menz et al. 2013). Finally, scaling can be achieved by “amplifying beyond” the initiative, by changing the rules, values, norms, knowledge, and mindsets within which restoration takes place. This emphasis on changing societal norms echoes the growing calls to attend to restoration’s social outcomes and the plurality of values involved (Osborne et al. 2021), though processes of social and institutional change are infrequently discussed in the restoration literature (Usher 2023).

A review of research on community restoration, conservation, and natural resource management reveals several social-institutional approaches to scaling community-based restoration. First, community capacity may be enhanced by increasing the number of people and groups involved in restoration, as in volunteer-based projects, backyard restoration initiatives, and landcare groups (Prager 2010, Mumaw and Raymond 2021, Shanahan et al. 2021). This has been the dominant mode of scaling to date and is often what is implied in calls to “upscale” restoration (e.g., Norton et al. 2016). Although growing the number of actors may increase the frequency and extent of restoration activities (i.e., amplifying out), it is not sufficient to overcome other limitations of community-based restoration (e.g., expertise, resources, coordination).

On the other hand, scaling community-based natural resource management typically involves scaling up from local to city, regional or even transboundary levels (Prager 2010, Shaw et al. 2018, Dupuits et al. 2020). This often involves the creation of new governance institutions (e.g., committees, boards) that bring together agencies and stakeholders to make decisions, agreements, or plans regarding resource use and management over large areas. These higher-level institutions are intended to create an enabling and coordinating framework for community action, and therefore contribute to amplifying restoration beyond local initiatives (e.g., Guerrero et al. 2015b). However, the creation of more formal and distant governance institutions can also reduce local participation and result in the professionalization of community initiatives (Murcia et al. 2016, Dupuits et al. 2020). Intermediaries could help to facilitate communication between local groups and higher-level entities (Prager 2010) and guide collaborative governance arrangements in implementing ecologically effective restoration (Guerrero et al. 2015b).

Finally, case study research has revealed a range of second-order organizations that help to connect and support community restoration groups, including networks (Barrutia and Echebarria 2019), partnerships (Maynard et al. 2020), and collaboratives (Prager 2015). We refer to these diverse organizational forms as “collectives” because they bring together entities with shared interests to act toward common goals (cf. Pfaff and Valdez 2010). Collectives’ roles in community-based restoration can vary widely depending on the types of entities and relationships between entities involved (Wyborn and Bixler 2013, Guerrero et al. 2015a, Doole 2020). For example, “networks” of similar but independent groups can help to share ideas and information, promote cooperation, and strengthen group identification (Barrutia and Echebarria 2019), whereas “collaboratives” bring diverse entities together to work on shared problems or projects (Prager 2015). Collectives’ emphasis on supporting community groups to improve their outcomes suggests opportunities to amplify within existing groups (i.e., improving their efficiency and effectiveness) and out by enabling groups to grow or new groups to form.

However, collectives are not immune to the power dynamics involved in scaling restoration (Prager 2015, Green 2016), and in particular tensions between independent, community-led action and efforts to coordinate and prioritize activities. Studies highlight that scaling is often driven by governments, resulting in limited community ownership and governance of restoration initiatives (Murcia et al. 2016, Fastenrath et al. 2020). Even where scaling is initiated by communities, pressures to upskill and improve efficiency can result in the professionalization of community organizations, alienating grassroots support for collective entities (Dupuits et al. 2020). In other situations, collectives face criticism for not doing enough to coordinate and optimize community action while adding layers of complexity, thus creating new sources of inefficiency (Prager 2015, Doole 2020). Collectives must also navigate questions of group identity (Barrutia and Echebarria 2019), problematic designations of scale (Sarna-Wojcicki et al. 2019), competitive relationships among organizations (Maynard et al. 2020), and the unequal distribution of benefits arising from restoration (Prager 2015). Doole (2020) argues that further work is needed to ensure that collectives have the support, resourcing, and skills needed to catalyze landscape restoration, without reproducing the top-down mode of governance agencies.

To date most research on collectives has focused on one organization type, limiting the conceptualization of collectives’ diverse forms and functions (see Doole 2020). For example, Prager (2010) demonstrates how differences in membership, geographical scale, and institutional level shape the level of community participation in collaborative organizations and their associated benefits. Further examination of collectives’ social and institutional dimensions can reveal how specific entities or governance structures promote or inhibit scaling of community-based restoration (Battista et al. 2017, Fastenrath et al. 2020, Maynard et al. 2020, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). This study contributes to emerging research on the role of collectives in scaling restoration in Aotearoa and beyond through a detailed analysis of the structure, operations, and social-ecological outcomes of collectives.

METHODS

In this study, we refer to multiple community groups and other entities working together on a regular basis toward shared restoration goals as “collectives,” and the entities that compose collectives as “constituent groups.”

Potential collectives and survey participants were identified based on prior knowledge; recommendations from researchers and practitioners; online searches; and organization lists on conservation websites. Sixty-four entities met our inclusion criteria (see Table 2); from these we selected a diverse sample of 30 collectives from across rural and urban settings in most regions of Aotearoa (see Fig. 1), with varying social-ecological foci (e.g., predator control, water quality) and membership (e.g., farmers, Indigenous communities). For each collective, we identified a representative with knowledge of the collective’s history, structure, and activities, usually the manager or coordinator. Representatives were recruited via email and/or telephone invitations; two declined the invitation.

The survey questionnaire included a mix of multi-choice (n = 11) and open-ended (n = 17) questions on (1) the nature and operations of collectives and their constituent groups; and (2) the structure and purpose of collectives and their impact on restoration (Appendix 1). To compare collectives’ nature and operations with their constituent groups, we asked participants who were members of both a collective and group (n = 12) the same eight questions for both entities. The survey was pilot tested with representatives of three collectives and refined based on their feedback.

Twenty-seven collective representatives completed the survey^[3] between February and May 2021 via Zoom (n = 23) or telephone (n = 4).^[4] The survey lasted 45 minutes on average. The researcher read questions aloud to participants and typed their answers into an electronic survey tool. This approach was used to build rapport with participants and to promote consistency in the interpretation of questions and form of responses. Comment boxes were used to record additional information from participant’s responses, to aid in interpretation and add depth to analysis. Surveys were audio-recorded with participants’ permission, and typed responses were reviewed against recordings for accuracy.

Multi-choice responses were analyzed using counts and percentage responses, while responses to open-ended questions were coded using qualitative software Nvivo12 Plus to identify dominant themes and assess their frequency. Narrative analysis was also used to explore the rationales, assumptions, and worldviews embedded in long answer responses, adding explanatory depth to quantitative trends. Where appropriate, responses are anonymously quoted to convey participants’ situated perspectives.

RESULTS

Characteristics of collectives

Participant responses revealed that collectives and constituent groups differ from one another in terms of age, legal structure, funding, and staffing (Table 3). Collectives are a relatively recent phenomenon; 68% of collectives surveyed reported forming in the last decade, and almost all in the last 20 years. By comparison, half of the constituent entities reported having formed more than 20 years ago. Responses to the question “when did your group join the collective?” (n = 12) similarly revealed that a majority of (58%) constituent entities were already established when their collective formed.

Collectives are more likely to have legal status than their constituent entities, with most collectives surveyed identifying as not-for-profit legal entities, including Incorporated Societies (n = 9) and Charitable Trusts (n = 8). Under New Zealand law, community groups can adopt a range of legal structures that enable them to enter contracts and access funding, but also subject them to additional rules and administrative requirements.^[5]

The survey also asked participants whether their collective and constituent entity receive any funding or external support; participants could select up to eight sources or indicate that they receive no funding. Table 3 highlights that government grants are the most common funding source for both entity types, followed by donations and contracts to complete work (e.g., planting). One constituent group reported that they do not currently receive funding, and rely on gear and other support from their collective. Overall, the results indicate that collectives and their constituent groups receive funding from similar sources, though a larger proportion of collectives received funding from each source. These results suggest that on average collectives draw their resources from a more varied funding portfolio than constituent groups.

Finally, participants were asked whether their collective and constituent group have any paid staff; the interviewer took notes on the number of staff and types of paid and volunteer roles. Paid staff are both more common and more numerous in collectives compared with their constituent entities (Table 3). Just over half of constituent groups were reported to have paid staff, typically group coordinators, leaders, or managers, with an average of 2.4 full-time equivalents (FTEs). By comparison, almost all collectives (26 of 27) were reported to have some paid staff, employing on average 6.4 FTEs, though staffing was highly variable. Participants frequently commented that the lack of stable funding to hire staff is a barrier to progress, for example: “sometimes there’s been some funding but only enough for very very part time [roles], and on and off, so you lose momentum.”

Composition and structure of collectives

Collectives are made up of five types of entities on average (range = 2–8 types; Fig. 2). Most collectives include a combination of local environmental groups (85%, e.g., catchment groups), local and regional councils (85%), Indigenous entities (77%, e.g., tribes), and national government agencies (69%, typically the Department of Conservation). Many collectives (42%) also receive support from research and educational institutes, who provide expertise and students. Collectives are also frequently supported by national-scale NGOs (38%, e.g., Forest and Bird, the NZ Landcare Trust) and industry organizations (35%, e.g., DairyNZ), who provide expertise, organizational support, and connectivity. A minority of collectives (15%) include philanthropic foundations as key partners.

The structure of collectives varies based on relationships with and between their constituent groups. For example, some constituent groups are formal members of their collective and are represented in decision making fora (e.g., boards), while other collectives provide communication and support to constituent groups without any formal relationship. Within these more informal collectives, relationships between constituent groups can vary significantly, as this participant describes: “[Name] is a loose collective ... Some of the groups in the collective work together, some never will meet each other.” Other collectives include a mix of formal and informal relationships:

We are not a formalized collective, and our groups are not “members.” Some of the programs however are led and organized as a collective (e.g., pest free program where > 10 partners have signed a memorandum of understanding for working together). ... The collective has great flexibility and responsiveness because it can work “to order” with the constituent groups and what they need at the time.

Yet other collectives are more structured, with clearly defined roles and responsibilities and strong connections between constituent groups. For example, several collectives were described as having a multi-scalar structure, with a regional entity that supports and connects multiple place-based collectives (e.g., catchment collectives), which in turn bring community groups and other entities together to work on local initiatives.

The varying formality of relationships is reflected in collectives’ founding documents. Twenty-one collectives surveyed had some form of written agreement, including 12 that have memoranda of understanding or terms of reference with some of their constituent groups. These formal agreements delineate the roles and responsibilities of the collective and constituent groups, and how they will work together. Other collectives have bespoke agreements, including a collaboration plan, an Indigenous language constitution, and “group culture” guidelines. Six participants responded that their collective has no written agreement and viewed such agreements as unnecessary to the collective’s “organic” structure. For example, one participant stated that the groups composing the collective are very independent and have their own rules; the collective operates on a trust-based model where groups can withdraw at any time.

Formation of collectives

This variability in collective composition, structure, and formality may reflect the diverse origins and evolution of collectives. Collective formation was most frequently attributed to community efforts, sometimes led by motivated individuals or groups. Some participants described the community joining together because of frustration with existing environmental management, visible environmental degradation, and a desire for greater engagement. For example, several stated that their collective formed because of government agencies’ perceived failure to protect and improve valued ecosystems. In others, communities formed collective entities based on a perceived common good or purpose. Participants identified social ties, a shared vision or interests, and a perceived need for greater coordination among community groups as key motivators for community-led collective formation. For some Indigenous-led collectives, recent treaty settlements were a significant enabling factor and driver of collective formation.

Other participants reported that government agencies, NGOs, or philanthropic foundations played a key role in driving their collective’s formation. Seven participants stated that their collective had been formed by a local, regional, or national government agency. In some cases, the agencies continue to lead or coordinate the collective, while in others leadership has passed to the community. These government agencies were reportedly motivated by new policies and funding, recognition that current management was not delivering environmental objectives, and a desire to improve community engagement. For example, one government agency saw the collective as a way to broaden biodiversity initiatives for the area beyond mandated planning and implementation activities. Several non-government entities (e.g., Predator Free 2050 and philanthropic foundations) were also identified as driving collective formation by bringing groups together and providing funding, guidance, and other support for landscape-scale restoration.

Participants’ descriptions of collective formation also highlighted the evolution of collectives through processes of expansion and formalization. Some participants noted that their collective had started small, for example, as a pilot project, and then expanded its scope and spatial scale over time as more groups joined and additional funding and other resources became available. In one case, a collective expanded from a sub-catchment project that was narrowly focused on biodiversity outcomes to a landscape initiative that encompassed a range of biodiversity, freshwater, and social objectives. Other participants described how their collective had started out informally, with motivated individuals and groups working together in a grassroots way, and later became more structured and professional as the collective grew and expanded. Participants described this formalization as necessary to the collective’s continued success—“it has to become structured to persist”—and its ability to develop institutional relationships and bring in further funding. Nevertheless, participants also stressed the importance of maintaining relationships and “building on what was already there” as collectives formalized.

Operations of collectives

Participants’ descriptions of their collective’s and constituent group’s main purpose was coded into four broad themes: ecological, social, social-ecological, and working together (Table 4). These were not exclusive, with some purpose statements being coded to multiple themes. Over 75% of participants described their collective’s or constituent group’s main purpose in ecological terms, typically the enhancement of ecological restoration, biodiversity, and freshwater. These purpose statements often referenced landscape or ecosystem (e.g., catchment) scale changes. Many participants also described their group’s main purpose in social-ecological terms (58% of constituent groups, 41% of collectives), emphasizing people-nature connections and holistic concepts of well-being.

A notable difference between the purposes attributed to collectives and constituent groups is that participants were much more likely to articulate their collective’s purpose as improving ways of working together (56% of collectives versus 17% of constituent groups). These purpose statements focused on connecting people or groups, and empowering or supporting communities to care for their environment. For example, one participant stated that their collective’s purpose is to bring people together to increase communities’, agencies’, and Indigenous entities’ knowledge of ecosystem restoration.

An emphasis on working together was reflected in collectives’ main restoration activities. Both collectives and constituent groups undertake activities like planting, monitoring, public education and engagement, pest control and providing support to other groups (Fig. 3). However, a larger proportion of collectives were reported to engage in providing advice and support to other groups (93% vs 67% of constituent groups); public education and engagement (85% vs 75%); fundraising (67% vs 50%); and lobbying government or industry (52% vs 42%). These activities suggest a more strategic, relationship-building role for collectives. In contrast, constituent groups’ most common activity types suggest that they predominantly engage in on-the-ground activities, including planting, monitoring, infrastructure development and maintenance, and public outreach.

Collective outcomes

Finally, we explored how participants perceive their collectives’ impact on community-based restoration. All participants felt strongly that constituent groups have been able to have greater impact or better achieve their objectives by being involved in a collective. One participant replied “Yes absolutely. My environmental group wouldn’t exist without the [collective],” while another responded “No doubt! To the point where our environmental group objectives have exploded! The group has been able to accomplish so much more by being involved with the collective...” Participants described increases in the amount, spatial extent, scope, effectiveness, and efficiency of group restoration activities as evidence that constituent groups have been able to have greater impact through their involvement in the collective.

Many participants also thought that their collective was improving on-the-ground outcomes for biodiversity, although they were more cautious about their claims. Nine participants stated that their collective was still at an early stage in its development, and they did not expect to see outcomes yet or did not have sufficient monitoring data to show improvements. Several participants noted that it can be difficult for collectives to attribute biodiversity outcomes to their actions, especially where a lot of the collective’s input is “unseen work” (e.g., administrative support) rather than on-the-ground projects.

Many collectives undertake some monitoring, with a few carrying out extensive monitoring and measurement of progress toward targets. For example,

We have helped stabilize or increase kiwi numbers ... Same for Pāteke [Grey Teal] which has the third highest flock count on record in our area because of our support... We do monitoring work to find out how biodiversity is doing in the areas we help groups work in. All our KPIs are showing we are on the right track.

Overall, 10 participants stated that their collective’s monitoring shows at least some biodiversity improvements. Evidence of improvements reported include predator eradication, reductions in pest species, stabilization and growth of target species, expansion of indicator species into new areas, return of previously extirpated species, water quality improvements, and recovery of macroinvertebrate populations. Several participants stated that improvements in biodiversity had been greater or more rapid than predicted:

in the estuary ... monitoring has been showing great signs of recovery that wasn’t expected so quickly. Bird life has also been returning even more than we expected—some species that haven’t been seen in a long time.

Another participant highlighted the importance of even small improvements in biodiversity:

A lot of the mahi [work], it’s hard to see the gains on the ground. But we’re aware of it when we see a tree growing, water flowing, a bird flying. These are all taonga [treasures] we treat with all the respect in the world, that are there for future generations.

In the absence of biodiversity monitoring, participants described a range of proxy measures for collectives’ ecological impact. Proxies included the number of people or groups involved, amount of restoration activity, and the spatial extent of activities. For example, participants reported increases in the number of volunteer hours, predator traps installed, native plants planted, species translocated, area of habitat restored, and length of fence built. Some participants situated these proxies within a process-based account of how the collectives’ activities improve biodiversity outcomes. For example, one described how restoring 100 riparian spawning sites is contributing to rapid population increases for whitebait, due to their fast life cycles.

Together, these results indicate that collectives see themselves as effective in supporting widespread restoration action, and thus ecological improvements. To better understand how and why collectives are perceived as making a difference to community-based restoration, we coded participants’ responses to identify themes in their explanations of collective impacts. Our analysis identified 11 common ways in which participants understand their collective as contributing to community-based restoration, summarized in Table 5. Most participants touched on more than one theme, indicating that collectives are perceived as making a multifaceted contribution. Explanations often involved improving groups’ access to funding, resources, and information for restoration; fostering connection and collaboration among groups; growing group confidence and support from the community; and enabling innovation and scientifically informed restoration. Participants also indicated that collectives contribute to scaling restoration by enabling increased action by existing groups, growing the number of groups involved, connecting restoration activities, and expanding the scope of restoration.

DISCUSSION

This study sought to understand the role of collectives in scaling restoration in Aotearoa and beyond through a detailed analysis of collectives’ characteristics, structure, operations, and outcomes. Our results provide evidence that restoration collectives are a novel and distinct form of community organization with the potential to amplify community-based restoration. Here we summarize key distinctions between collectives and traditional community groups, propose a typology of restoration collectives, and consider their potential to scale ecosystem restoration.

Collective approaches to community-based restoration

Our results demonstrate that collectives differ from traditional community groups in both their form and function. Whereas community groups typically undertake site-based restoration and community engagement (Menz et al. 2013, Norton et al. 2016), the collectives surveyed focus on providing support and facilitating connection and collaboration among entities to achieve landscape outcomes. This emphasis on improving how restoration entities work together—and related strategic activities such as providing advice and support to other groups, fundraising, and lobbying—set collectives apart from the constituent groups in our study, as well as those surveyed by Peters et al. (2015) and Sinner et al. (2022b). Our results also highlight that collectives are more formally organized than their constituent groups, with most collectives having legal status and paid staff. Again, this suggests a significant shift from the traditionally informal and volunteer-driven model of community restoration (Usher 2023). The claim that multi-group collectives are a novel approach to restoration is reinforced by the relative youth of collectives surveyed; most were less than a decade old. Recent government attention and investment in collectives suggests that this model will become more prominent in Aotearoa (Doole 2020) and beyond (Prager 2015).

Our study also revealed variability in the structure, purpose, and operations of restoration collectives in Aotearoa, mirroring the diversity of collaborative structures and relationships in the literature (Wyborn and Bixler 2013, Prager 2015, Guerrero et al. 2015a, Maynard et al. 2020, Sinner et al. 2022a). To understand the forms and functions collectives can take and begin to conceptualize their distinct roles in scaling restoration, we propose a typology of restoration collectives (see Fig. 4). Although our typology is based on collective arrangements observed in Aotearoa, we highlight similar organizations in overseas studies to illustrate the typology’s broader relevance.

Key distinctions in collective form include the existence of a central hub entity, which provides support, advocacy, connection, and coordination functions, as well as the formality of relationships between constituent groups. In “community networks,” the hub provides a connection point for groups who otherwise operate largely independently (similar to networks described by Maynard et al. 2020 and Mumaw and Raymond 2021); participants emphasized the organic, non-hierarchical nature of these networks. In “project-based collectives” and “agency-led collectives,” the hub entities coordinate joint projects, facilitate engagement across groups, and support constituent groups to deliver on their objectives. These collectives resemble the collaboratives that have emerged in Australia and Europe to promote landscape management (Prager 2010, 2015) and typically involve more internal structure, formalization of relationships (e.g., MOU), and interaction between groups than community networks. The defining characteristic of agency-led collectives is that they are created by governance agencies (e.g., local government or large NGOs) to give effect to their objectives, planning, or programs, and rely on agency resourcing. Elsewhere such collectives have been criticized for reproducing top down approaches to restoration, limiting community involvement and outcomes (e.g., Prager 2010, Murcia et al. 2016).

In contrast, some collectives are built on close relationships between a defined set of entities. The “Indigenous collectives” surveyed comprise Indigenous entities (e.g., tribes, landowners) that agree to work together to restore an area of shared significance. The Indigenous entities undertake joint decision making and restoration activities as an expression of their self-determining authority. “Partnership initiatives” similarly involve intensive engagement between a small number of partners that work closely together to undertake landscape-scale restoration. Such collectives have received limited attention to date, though the importance of social identity and governance relationships (Guerrero et al. 2015b, Barrutia and Echebarria 2019) suggests they may play a unique role in scaling community action. In both instances, other community groups, governance entities, research institutes, or industry organizations may help to resource and support the work of the primary partners.

Collectives’ contribution to scaling restoration

The amplification processes described by Lam et al. (2020) are useful for parsing the range of ways that collectives can contribute to scaling restoration, highlighting their multifaceted role in community-based restoration. Participant responses suggest collectives make four key contributions to scaling, though some amplification processes are more common among particular collective types. Most notably, collectives help to amplify out restoration by (1) promoting landscape restoration. They also play a key role in amplifying within community initiatives, i.e., improving the efficiency, effectiveness, and longevity of community-based restoration, by (2) improving administrative support and resourcing, and (3) promoting connectivity and collaboration. Finally, collectives can help to amplify beyond community initiatives by (4) advocating for wider system change. These contributions to scaling restoration are briefly summarized below, and their limitations discussed.

First, many collectives surveyed described their activities as occurring at landscape, ecosystem, or regional scales, far beyond the patch or site scale common to community-based restoration (Menz et al. 2013, Norton et al. 2018). Indeed, the spatial extension or connection of restoration initiatives was often identified as a driver for collectives’ formation or a key component of their purpose. Landscape approaches were particularly prominent among more formal collectives (e.g., agency-led and partnership collectives) that have the resources and capability to launch large-scale yet intensive initiatives, such as backyard trapping grids. Collectives also promote landscape restoration by scaling out existing initiatives, for example, community networks that support groups to expand their activities, or project-based collectives that catalyze new place-based initiatives. Even where restoration activities remain patchy, the collectives in this study position these patches within large scale visions and strategic plans, promoting greater spatial connectivity and coordination.

However, it is notable that many of the community networks and agency-led collectives are organized in line with socio-political boundaries, including local government areas, property, and public reserves. For example, eight collectives operate within regional government boundaries, while others leverage large public reserves or private landholdings for landscape projects. The retention of socio-politically defined scales is also apparent internationally, where upscaling restoration often focuses on improving biodiversity in cities, nation states, and other administrative units (Guerrero et al. 2015b, Fastenrath et al. 2020, Mansuy et al. 2020, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). The definition of ecological scales is also deeply political and can reinforce existing jurisdiction and power relations, as critics of watersheds as a “natural” governance scale have observed (Cohen and Bakker 2014, Sarna-Wojcicki et al. 2019). Many of the landscapes targeted for restoration are national or regional parks, while the restoration of landscapes important to Indigenous-led collectives is hindered by Treaty settlement status and fragmented land ownership. These tendencies to re-embed property and governance relations within landscape initiatives can limit collectives’ ability to shift restoration toward more ecologically relevant and just scales.

Second, all collective types amplify existing initiatives by centralizing administrative functions and funding procurement (see also Prager 2015). Collectives thus help to mitigate the administrative burden (Sinner et al. 2022b) and resourcing constraints (Brown 2018, Shanahan et al. 2021) commonly experienced by community groups, and improve operational efficiencies. In particular, collectives’ legal status and public profile enables them to apply for and succeed in obtaining a wider range of funds, benefits that they pass on to member groups by assisting them with funding applications, securing and distributing funds, or holding funds for groups without legal status. Greater funding also enables collectives to employ staff, who are essential to administering large-scale restoration (Sinner et al. 2022b) and who enable improvements in practice. For example, participants described how staff increase local capacity for restoration by connecting community groups with expert advice, services, and training opportunities. By acting as intermediaries between community groups and funders or agencies (cf. Prager 2010), collectives free up community groups to focus on practical restoration activities (e.g., weeding) and enable more sustainable resourcing of those activities.

These findings demonstrate the potential for collectives to amplify within existing initiatives (Lam et al. 2020) by supplying the administrative infrastructure for more efficient, effective, and sustainable community-based restoration. However, for collectives to succeed in this role, funders, agencies, and communities need to recognize and value this “behind the scenes” support (Peters 2019). Some participants noted that collectives struggle to articulate their contribution in a system where value is often measured by pests caught or trees planted, while others highlighted the lack of funding to support administrative functions. The lack of fit for purpose funding for community-led conservation has been acknowledged as a challenge worldwide (Nelson et al. 2023). Agencies could foster amplifying within by reducing the administrative load on collectives (e.g., by aligning funding application and reporting requirements) and thus freeing them up to focus on innovations in restoration (Doole 2020, Sinner et al. 2022b).

Third, collectives facilitate knowledge sharing, communication, and collaboration among groups, creating pathways for joined-up restoration that is broader in scope than traditional community initiatives (see Peters et al. 2015, Sinner et al. 2022b). More informal collectives such as community networks build awareness of diverse community initiatives and promote information sharing and connection building between groups. Participants indicate that such connectivity supports refinement and innovation in restoration practice, as well as creating a sense of shared purpose and identity among volunteers that helps to invigorate community initiatives. Collectives that feature more formal relationships (e.g., project-based collectives) can promote even greater cooperation and collaboration among groups by instigating joint projects, developing shared plans and visions, and catalyzing new partnerships.

By connecting community groups and other entities that typically operate independently, collectives help to expand the range of values, knowledge, experience, and skills involved in community restoration (Prager 2015). We argue that this diversity contributes to both amplifying within existing initiatives, by increasing their ability to undertake complex restoration, and amplifying out, by broadening the purpose of restoration and activities (Lam et al. 2020). Compared with the “simplistic plantings” often attributed to community restoration (Menz et al. 2013, Peltzer et al. 2019), participants describe collectives as promoting more complex, scientifically informed, and experimental restoration that seeks a plurality of social and ecological outcomes. For example, several collectives amplified their initiatives from single species (e.g., Kiwi) to the wider ecosystem (see also Sinner et al. 2022b), while others supported research on restoration practice, and yet others framed restoration as part of regenerative local economic development. Collectives’ promotion of collaborative restoration may even amplify beyond specific initiatives where it enhances social cohesion and cultivates a sense of shared purpose, thereby growing communities’ capacity to address complex social-ecological issues (Villamayor-Tomas and Garcia-Lopez 2018, Williams et al. 2018, Barrutia and Echebarria 2019).

However, some survey responses reveal hesitance over more collaborative and strategic community-based restoration. Several participants contested the idea that community groups were “members” and described their collective as an informal or “organic” collection of independent community groups. Collectives in general were very conscious of constituent groups’ independence and the need to support rather than direct community restoration, echoing concerns about top-down conservation and the professionalization of community initiatives in other studies (Murcia et al. 2016, Dupuits et al. 2020, Mumaw and Raymond 2021). Successful amplification of restoration therefore requires attention to the power dynamics inherent in community-based restoration, and the role of relationship building, social cohesion, and shared identity in enabling collaboration among grassroots actors (Wyborn and Bixler 2013, Green 2016). Further research could examine whether and how collectives provide the strong social foundations that scaling community-based restoration evidently requires.

Finally, participants identified advocacy as a key function through which collectives argue for system changes that will enable large scale restoration and address local drivers of environmental degradation. Collectives’ advocacy ranged from petitioning agencies to making submissions, undertaking promotional campaigns, and developing working relationships with government or NGOs. Such advocacy is something that many small community groups lack the capacity to do themselves, but that is important in gaining support for their work and raising awareness of community needs and values. Collectives, with their staff capacity, oversight role, and strategic focus, play a key role in identifying broader issues and opportunities and channeling community input on these topics. Participants describe this advocacy as leading to further community participation in and coordination with government initiatives, and as important for breaking down barriers to restoration (e.g., misaligned funding criteria). For example, the Department of Conservation has invested in recent trial projects^[6] to identify improved support mechanisms for collective restoration. Following Lam et al. (2020), we therefore contend that collectives’ advocacy role enables the amplification of restoration values and knowledge beyond community-based initiatives to catalyze wider institutional and socio-political change.

CONCLUSION

This study provides further evidence that restoration collectives are a new and distinct form of collective action with significant potential to scale community-based restoration in Aotearoa. Our survey of 27 collectives indicates that they contribute to scaling restoration by improving the efficiency and sustainability of community initiatives, increasing the spatial scale and social-ecological scope of restoration, and increasing the range of actors involved in restoration. Collectives thus have the potential to mitigate the resourcing, scale, coordination, and sustainability challenges common to community-based restoration. Indeed, our analysis highlights the potential for collectives to amplify restoration through (1) capacity building and stabilization within existing initiatives, (2) spreading and connecting initiatives out to landscape scales and to encompass more holistic objectives, and (3) advocacy beyond initiatives to change the norms and systems governing community restoration.

However, questions remain over the extent to which these different forms of scaling are or can be realized, especially because of underlying power relations. Our survey results demonstrate that collectives are still relatively new and untested, and that it is too early to be confident that they will realize anticipated efficiencies, let alone hoped-for biodiversity outcomes. However, the shift in restoration discourse toward landscape-scale action, collaboration, and social-ecological outcomes suggests important changes in the ideas and values driving restoration. Crucially, this shift is also echoed in recent initiatives by government and funders, who are increasingly investing in governance infrastructure to enable collectives to play a coordinating and connecting role. Our typology of restoration collectives suggests that collectives’ success in scaling restoration may depend on the strength of relationships and shared vision among constituent entities. Success may also vary across different types of restoration and conservation activities, with some (e.g., planting) scalable by large informal collectives while others (e.g., predator fencing) require formal relationships and resourcing. Further research on how collective structures contribute to different modes of amplification and what structures and processes are best suited to different activities would be beneficial in informing how collective action is resourced and supported. International comparisons could also help to theorize whether and how collective approaches vary across restoration, conservation, and resource management contexts.

__________

^[1] In 2016 the New Zealand government launched the nationwide Predator Free 2050 programme, which provides resources and support for community predator control initiatives, resulting in a profusion of new groups, https://www.tuiatetaiao.nz/our-strategy/.
^[2] For context, employing a staff member for 10 hours/week at minimum wage ($22.70) costs $11,800 in wages alone.
^[3] The 28th participant’s data was removed because of incomplete responses.
^[4] Ethics approval for the study was granted by the University of Waikato’s Human Ethics Committee (HREC(HECS)2020#60) in February 2021.
^[5] For more information on the relative benefits of becoming incorporated, see https://community.net.nz/resources/community-resource-kit/formal-organisational-structures/ and http://communitytoolkit.org.nz/choosing-the-right-legal-structure-for-your-group/?pdf=598.
^[6] Ngā Awa River Restoration programme and GovTech Accelerator project (2022).

LITERATURE CITED

Barrutia, J. M., and C. Echebarria. 2019. Comparing three theories of participation in pro-environmental, collaborative governance networks. Journal of Environmental Management 240:108-118. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jenvman.2019.03.103

Battista, W., A. Tourgee, C. Wu, and R. Fujita. 2017. How to achieve conservation outcomes at scale: an evaluation of scaling principles. Frontiers in Marine Science 3:278. https://doi.org/10.3389/fmars.2016.00278

Bode, M., W. Probert, W. R. Turner, K. A. Wilson, and O. Venter. 2011. Conservation planning with multiple organizations and objectives. Conservation Biology 25(2):295-304. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1523-1739.2010.01610.x

Brown, M. 2018. Transforming community conservation funding in New Zealand. The Catalyst Group, Palmerston North, New Zealand.

Cohen, A., and K. Bakker. 2014. The eco-scalar fix: rescaling environmental governance and the politics of ecological boundaries in Alberta, Canada. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 32(1):128-146. https://doi.org/10.1068/d0813

Department of Conservation 2020a. Te mana o te taiao - Aotearoa New Zealand biodiversity strategy 2020. Department of Conservation, Wellington, New Zealand.

Department of Conservation 2020b. Towards a predator free New Zealand: predator free 2050 strategy. Department of Conservation, Wellington, New Zealand.

Doole, M. 2020. Better together? A review of community conservation hubs in New Zealand. The Catalyst Group, Palmerston North, New Zealand.

Dupuits, E., M. Baud, R. Boelens, F. de Castro, and B. Hogenboom. 2020. Scaling up but losing out? Water commons’ dilemmas between transnational movements and grassroots struggles in Latin America. Ecological Economics 172:106625. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecolecon.2020.106625

Fastenrath, S., J. Bush, and L. Coenen. 2020. Scaling-up nature-based solutions. Lessons from the Living Melbourne strategy. Geoforum 116:63-72. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.geoforum.2020.07.011

Green, K. E. 2016. A political ecology of scaling: struggles over power, land and authority. Geoforum 74:88-97. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.geoforum.2016.05.007

Guerrero, A. M., Ö. Bodin, R. R. J. McAllister, and K. A. Wilson. 2015b. Achieving social-ecological fit through bottom-up collaborative governance: an empirical investigation. Ecology and Society 20(4):41. https://doi.org/10.5751/ES-08035-200441

Guerrero, A. M., R. R. J. McAllister, and K. A. Wilson. 2015a. Achieving cross-scale collaboration for large scale conservation initiatives. Conservation Letters 8(2):107-117. https://doi.org/10.1111/conl.12112

Hardie-Boys, N. 2010. Valuing community group contributions to conservation. Science for Conservation 299. Department of Conservation, Wellington, New Zealand.

Jones, C., and N. Kirk. 2018. Shared visions: can community conservation projects’ outcomes inform on their likely contributions to national biodiversity goals? New Zealand Journal of Ecology 42(2):116-124. https://doi.org/10.20417/nzjecol.42.14

Kockel, A., N. C. Ban, M. Costa, and P. Dearden. 2020. Evaluating approaches for scaling-up community-based marine-protected areas into socially equitable and ecologically representative networks. Conservation Biology 34(1):137-147. https://doi.org/10.1111/cobi.13368

Lam, D. P. M., B. Martín-López, A. Wiek, E. M. Bennett, N. Frantzeskaki, A. I. Horcea-Milcu, and D. J. Lang. 2020. Scaling the impact of sustainability initiatives: a typology of amplification processes. Urban Transformations 2(1):3. https://doi.org/10.1186/s42854-020-00007-9

Mace, G. M., M. Barrett, N. D. Burgess, S. E. Cornell, R. Freeman, M. Grooten, and A. Purvis. 2018. Aiming higher to bend the curve of biodiversity loss. Nature Sustainability 1(9):448-451. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41893-018-0130-0

Mansuy, N., P. J. Burton, J. Stanturf, C. Beatty, C. Mooney, P. Besseau, D. Degenhardt, K. MacAfee, and R. Lapointe. 2020. Scaling up forest landscape restoration in Canada in an era of cumulative effects and climate change. Forest Policy and Economics 116:102177. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.forpol.2020.102177

Maynard, L., C. McCarty, S. K. Jacobson, and M. C. Monroe. 2020. Conservation networks: are zoos and aquariums collaborating or competing through partnerships? Environmental Conservation 47(3):166-173. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0376892920000168

Menz, M. H. M., K. W. Dixon, and R. J. Hobbs. 2013. Hurdles and opportunities for landscape-scale restoration. Science 339(6119):526-527. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1228334

Mumaw, L. M., and C. M. Raymond. 2021. A framework for catalysing the rapid scaling of urban biodiversity stewardship programs. Journal of Environmental Management 292:112745. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jenvman.2021.112745

Muñoz, P., and O. Branzei. 2021. Regenerative organizations: introduction to the special issue. Organization & Environment 34(4):507-516. https://doi.org/10.1177/10860266211055740

Murcia, C., M. R. Guariguata, Á. Andrade, G. I. Andrade, J. Aronson, E. M. Escobar, A. Etter, F. H. Moreno, W. Ramírez, and E. Montes. 2016. Challenges and prospects for scaling-up ecological restoration to meet international commitments: Colombia as a case study. Conservation Letters 9(3):213-220. https://doi.org/10.1111/conl.12199

Nelson, F., J. Sweidan, T. Gjefsen, B. Ogden, and S. Bandiaky-Badji. 2023. Better climate funding means centering local and Indigenous communities. Stanford Social Innovation Review, 11 May. https://doi.org/10.48558/P3HW-E840

Norton, D. A., J. Butt, and D. O. Bergin. 2018. Upscaling restoration of native biodiversity: a New Zealand perspective. Ecological Management & Restoration 19:26-35. https://doi.org/10.1111/emr.12316

Norton, D. A., L. M. Young, A. E. Byrom, B. D. Clarkson, P. O. Lyver, M. S. McGlone, and N. W. Waipara. 2016. How do we restore New Zealand’s biological heritage by 2050? Ecological Management & Restoration 17(3):170-179. https://doi.org/10.1111/emr.12230

Osborne, T., S. Brock, R. Chazdon, S. Chomba, E. Garen, V. Gutierrez, R. Lave, M. Lefevre, and J. Sundberg. 2021. The political ecology playbook for ecosystem restoration: principles for effective, equitable, and transformative landscapes. Global Environmental Change 70:102320. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.gloenvcha.2021.102320

Peltzer, D. A., P. J. Bellingham, I. A. Dickie, G. Houliston, P. E. Hulme, P. O. Lyver, M. McGlone, S. J. Richardson, and J. Wood. 2019. Scale and complexity implications of making New Zealand predator-free by 2050. Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand 49(3):412-439. https://doi.org/10.1080/03036758.2019.1653940

Perring, M. P., T. E. Erickson, and P. H. S. Brancalion. 2018. Rocketing restoration: enabling the upscaling of ecological restoration in the Anthropocene. Restoration Ecology 26(6):1017-1023. https://doi.org/10.1111/rec.12871

Peters, M. 2019. Understanding the context of conservation community hubs. People+Science Ltd, Hamilton, New Zealand.

Peters, M. A., D. Hamilton, and C. Eames. 2015. Action on the ground: a review of community environmental groups’ restoration objectives, activities and partnerships in New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Ecology 39(2):179-189.

Pfaff, S., and S. Valdez. 2010. Collective action. Pages 498-503 in H. K. Anheier and S. Toepler, editors. International encyclopedia of civil society. Springer US, New York, New York, USA.

Prager, K. 2010. Local and regional partnerships in natural resource management: the challenge of bridging institutional levels. Environmental Management 46(5):711-724. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00267-010-9560-9

Prager, K. 2015. Agri-environmental collaboratives as bridging organisations in landscape management. Journal of Environmental Management 161:375-384. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jenvman.2015.07.027

Pretty, J., and H. Ward. 2001. Social capital and the environment. World Development 29(2):209-227. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0305-750X(00)00098-X

Sarna-Wojcicki, D., J. Sowerwine, L. Hillman, L. Hillman, and B. Tripp. 2019. Decentring watersheds and decolonising watershed governance: towards an ecocultural politics of scale in the Klamath Basin. Water Alternatives 12(1):241-266.

Shanahan, D., F. Maseyk, G. Johnston, and M. Doole. 2021. Social and ecological outcomes from community-led conservation. Report No. 2021/160. The Catalyst Group, Palmerston North, New Zealand.

Shaw, D., A. Cumbers, R. McMaster, and J. Crossan. 2018. Scaling up community action for tackling climate change. British Journal of Management 29(2):266-278. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8551.12274

Sinner, J., M. Tadaki, E. Challies, M. Kilvington, P. Tane, and C. A. Robb. 2022a. Crafting collective management institutions in messy real-world settings: a call for action research. International Journal of the Commons 16(1):1-13. https://doi.org/10.5334/ijc.1145

Sinner, J., M. Tadaki, A. McCarthy, E. Challies, and J. Thomson-Laing 2022b. Catchment and community environment groups in Aotearoa New Zealand: goals, activities and needs. Cawthron Report No. 3733. Cawthron Institute, Nelson, New Zealand.

Usher, M. 2023. Restoration as world-making and repair: a pragmatist agenda. Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space 6(2):1252-1277. https://doi.org/10.1177/25148486221107221

Villamayor-Tomas, S., and G. Garcia-Lopez. 2018. Social movements as key actors in governing the commons: evidence from community-based resource management cases across the world. Global Environmental Change-Human and Policy Dimensions 53:114-126. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.gloenvcha.2018.09.005

Wiens, J. A., and R. J. Hobbs. 2015. Integrating conservation and restoration in a changing world. BioScience 65(3):302-312. https://doi.org/10.1093/biosci/biu235

Williams, E. K., E. M. Watene-Rawiri, and G. T. Tipa. 2018. Empowering Indigenous community engagement and aproaches in lake restoration: an Aotearoa-New Zealand perspective. Pages 495-532 in D. P. Hamilton, K. J. Collier, J. M. Quinn, and C. Howard-Williams, editors. Lake restoration handbook: a New Zealand perspective. Springer International, Cham, Switzerland. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-93043-5_15

Wyborn, C., and R. P. Bixler. 2013. Collaboration and nested environmental governance: scale dependency, scale framing, and cross-scale interactions in collaborative conservation. Journal of Environmental Management 123:58-67. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jenvman.2013.03.014