A Vision for Pōneke’s Future
At One Network Wellington Live, we take pride in celebrating the heart of Pōneke—its windswept hills, shimmering harbour, and the tūī songs that greet us each dawn. Wellington is a city where nature and community thrive hand in hand, from the predator-free efforts in Miramar to the laughter of kids playing by Oriental Bay. But today, we’re pausing to ask a tough question: are we being sold a lemon in the name of fighting climate change? This isn’t just about global headlines—it’s about what’s happening right here, in our backyard. Let’s dive into a story that’s stirring concern among Wellingtonians and explore whether the solutions we’re promised are as sweet as they seem.
The government has unveiled an ambitious plan to position Wellington as a global leader in climate action. Ahead of the Pōneke Climate Gathering—a major international summit slated for 2026—they’ve proposed a network of “green” walkways and bike paths stretching across the Miramar Peninsula. The idea is to connect the airport to the city centre with eco-friendly routes, powered by renewable energy, to cut carbon emissions and boost tourism. With a price tag of over $80 million, funded by taxpayers and international grants, it’s billed as a showcase of Wellington’s commitment to a sustainable future. On paper, it’s a dream: a city where people can cycle from home to work, where visitors marvel at our green innovation, and where we lead the world in climate solutions. But as the diggers roll in, the reality is starting to crack that shiny promise.
The Cost of Progress
The first sign of trouble came when locals noticed the native bush along the Miramar coastline being cleared. Pōhutukawa trees, some standing for over a hundred years, were uprooted to make way for concrete paths. In Scorching Bay and Seatoun, residents watched in disbelief as diggers tore through areas where kākā nested and wētā scurried under the ferns. The project promised “minimal impact,” but the scars on the landscape tell a different story. Over 50 hectares of native forest—enough to shelter thousands of our precious birds—have been lost. Campaigners, including local iwi and environmental groups like Forest & Bird, are raising their voices, arguing that this so-called green initiative is destroying the very nature it claims to save. It’s a bitter irony, one that echoes a recent global scandal: the Amazon rainforest being cut down to build a highway for the COP30 climate summit in Belém, Brazil.
In the Amazon, the Brazilian government spent over $81 million to expand infrastructure, including a highway and airport, for the 2025 UN climate conference. Campaigners there decried the deforestation as a slap in the face to the summit’s goals, with local communities like Paulo Amador’s left out of the loop and uncompensated. Here in Wellington, the parallels are unsettling. Our Pōneke Climate Gathering aims to address global warming, yet the path to hosting it is carving up our green spaces. The government insists the walkways will offset their impact with new plantings, but experts say it’ll take decades for those saplings to match the carbon storage of the lost forest. Meanwhile, the concrete, machinery, and transport involved are pumping out emissions, casting doubt on the project’s “green” credentials. Are we building a lemon—a project that looks good but fails to deliver?
Voices from the Community
The human cost is just as stark. Take Hemi, a kaumātua from a marae near Breaker Bay. His whānau has lived by the coast for generations, tending the land and gathering kawakawa and other rongoā (traditional medicine) from the bush. When the diggers arrived, Hemi wasn’t consulted. “They told us it’s for the planet,” he says, his voice heavy with frustration, “but they’re taking our taonga—our treasures—without a word.” His community watched as their gathering grounds were bulldozed, and the new walkway won’t even connect to their street. No compensation has been offered, leaving Hemi dipping into his savings to replant what he can. It’s a story of exclusion that hits hard in a city known for its community spirit.
Across Miramar, families are feeling the pinch too. Jane, a mother of two, lives near the airport where the path is expanding. “We used to let the kids play in the bush behind our house,” she says. “Now it’s fenced off, and the noise from the construction is constant.” Fishermen along the coast worry about runoff polluting their waters, threatening the snapper and kahawai they rely on. The summit might bring global leaders and photo opportunities, but for these locals, it’s a disruption to their daily lives. The government promises jobs and tourism, but the benefits feel distant when your backyard is shrinking. Campaigners are calling for a rethink, urging the project to avoid sensitive areas and upgrade existing urban paths instead. Yet, with momentum building, their pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.
The Irony of Intentions
This situation lays bare a sad madness in the fight against climate change. The Pōneke Climate Gathering is meant to unite the world against global warming, yet the preparations are harming the environment we’re trying to save. The 50 hectares of cleared forest represent a loss of habitat for our native wildlife—kākā, tūī, and kererū that once flitted through those trees. The carbon emissions from construction add to the problem, creating a cycle where the cure might be worse than the disease. Wellington City Council argues that hosting the summit will put Pōneke on the global stage, attracting investment and showcasing our green credentials. But at what price? The Amazon highway story serves as a warning: grand gestures can overshadow the real work of conservation if we’re not careful.
The parallels between Belém and Wellington are striking. In Brazil, the highway was justified as necessary infrastructure, yet it left local communities sidelined and ecosystems damaged. Here, the walkways are pitched as a climate solution, but they’re eroding the very landscape that defines us. The government points to offset planting and renewable energy plans, but the timeline for recovery is long, and the immediate impact is clear. Campaigners suggest alternatives—like enhancing the existing network of walkways in Thorndon or Newtown, where urban renewal could serve the same purpose without touching native bush. Why not invest in public transport upgrades or community-led reforestation instead? The answers seem elusive, leaving many to wonder if we’re being sold a lemon dressed up as progress.
A City’s Pride at Stake
Wellingtonians take pride in our city’s green identity. From the wind turbines on our hills to the predator-free zones championed by groups like Predator Free Wellington, we’ve built a reputation as a place that cares. The map of one operator’s efforts—10,991 bait stations checked, 64 rats caught—shows how we protect our wildlife with grit and community support. But this walkway project risks undermining that legacy. If Pōneke becomes known for hosting a summit at the expense of its native forest, what message does that send? Our hills and harbour are our taonga, and once they’re altered, no amount of international applause can bring them back.
The summit’s potential is undeniable. It could bring experts, funding, and ideas to tackle climate change head-on. But if the cost is our natural heritage and the trust of our people, the victory feels hollow. Hemi’s marae, Jane’s backyard, and the fishermen’s waters are part of what makes Wellington special. Losing them for a temporary global spotlight is a trade-off many can’t stomach. The council insists the project will create jobs—perhaps 200 during construction—and boost tourism, but these gains are short-term compared to the long-term loss of biodiversity. The offset planting might one day restore some balance, but it’s a gamble on a future we may not see.
Time to Rethink
So, are we being sold a lemon too? The Amazon story suggests yes—when climate solutions harm the environment, they lose their soul. Here in Wellington, the walkway project raises the same red flags. The government’s heart might be in the right place, but the execution is flawed. Campaigners are pushing for a pause, demanding a route that spares our native bush and includes the community in decisions. They propose using technology—like virtual summits or hybrid events—to reduce the need for physical infrastructure. Others suggest investing in electric buses or expanding the cable car network, keeping our green spaces intact while meeting climate goals.
At One Network Wellington Live, we’re not here to dictate answers but to spark a conversation. What do you think, Pōneke? Should we press ahead with the walkways, trusting the long-term vision, or halt and rethink to protect our land? Share your thoughts below—your voice matters. We’ve seen the power of community in predator-free efforts; perhaps that same spirit can guide us here. Let’s ensure our climate action honours Wellington, not sacrifices it.
A Call to Cherish Pōneke
As we look to the future, let’s hold tight to what makes Wellington special. The next time you walk along the Miramar coast or hear a tūī in your garden, think about the stakes. The Pōneke Climate Gathering could be a chance to shine, but only if we do it right. The sadness of this madness lies in the lost opportunities—chances to lead with wisdom instead of haste. Let’s demand better, for our kids, our wildlife, and the Pōneke we love.
The choice is ours. Will we let this project carve a lemon into our landscape, or will we shape a future that truly reflects our values? At One Network Wellington Live, we’re rooting for the latter. Join us in keeping Pōneke green, not just in name, but in action. Together, we can ensure our city remains a beacon of hope, not a cautionary tale.
