Botanist Rupert Koopman brings plenty of experience to the new position that he took on earlier this year. He spoke to Byron Latham about South African conservation, fynbos and some of the challenges that the industry faces.
*Rupert Koopman’s small wooden-cabin-of-an-office at Kirstenbosch Botanical Garden appears insufficient for the botanist’s personality; but he doesn’t seem to notice. Humble, extremely knowledgeable and forward looking, he is the sort of conservationist the country desperately needs.
Recently taking the position of conservation manager for the Botanical Society of South Africa (BOTSOC), the well-known fynbos expert now has a national mandate that he takes very seriously.
Currently, Rupert is organising the society’s conservation strategy, which means he has had to travel across the country to work out the needs for various branches of BOTSOC.
Rupert hints that he is a little more invested in national conservation than just administering a society, though. He has ideas for the future.
“There must be some level of sustainability,” Rupert says; here not referring to environmental sustainability, but rather, referring to the passing on of skills in the field of conservation.
“In five years, if I don’t have a little team to start downloading onto – so that if in ten years, or however long I stay – when I walk away, it’s at least seamless… Then we would have failed,” Rupert says.
He mentions “that this is a national problem”, or rather, correcting himself, “a global one”. Rupert says there is an issue regarding the transference of essential skills and knowledge, needed by the newer conservationists, that is only obtainable from the veterans in the field.
“You need systems that work, and you need all those relationships, as well as the knowledge and so forth, to be perpetuated and carried over. But in a deliberate way. Not in a ‘here’s some facts and a brochure’ kind of way,” the botanist says. The way he says it makes it sound like proper conservation is inherited.
Identifying important conservation areas and working within BOTSOC and the broader civil society, is Rupert’s job. He is perfectly positioned to show people the importance of their local environment even if they’re not conservation orientated.
A botanist in the public sphere?
Although his quiet office, tucked away in a wooded corner of the garden, doesn’t suggest it, Rupert is a well-known authoritative figure in both botanical and public spheres, but when asked about the “champion status” that the public may bestow on several, now famous, conservationists, he undermines the idea.
Rupert is happier with the term “authoritative figure” than with “celebrity”.
A quick Google search will, however, reveal Rupert’s interviews with Men’s Health, VISI, multiple podcasts and various other hits; normally with Rupert being asked for advice or showing off a fynbos species.
He never set out to be famous (and he would tell you that he isn’t) ‒ the years of academic journals behind him and stacks of paperwork on his desk don’t exactly fit the image of a celebrity.
Rupert is, however, a botanist who saw social media as an opportunity.
“I just said ‘okay fine, let’s jump on this platform and mess around on social media’,” Rupert mentions. He liked the idea of creating something that can get the message out.
“…[U]ultimately, the message is plant conservation strategies, endangered plants, threatened habitats and other issues that are conservation related,” Rupert says.
Rupert’s fynbos
Rupert was sown into just the right conditions for a botanist to flourish. He’s been in and around fynbos from a young age and his honey coloured eyes, sitting behind square-framed glasses, seem to reflect it while he talks about his obsession.
Openly sharing his love for the world-famous vegetation, fynbos, he praises the plants’ adaptability and diversity, the fires that form part of the fynbos regenerative cycle and, of course, the aesthetic beauty of the plants and their flowers. The very struggle for survival that the plants have had to go through, over millions of years, is something that Rupert sees the beauty in ‒ he can conjure images of an evolving South African landscape, the result of which we see in real time all around us.
But the love of something tentative comes at a cost. Development and degradation threaten Rupert’s beloved fynbos, just as many other vegetation groups across the country are being threatened.
On the vulnerable nature of fynbos, he says: “There is just such a lot that we don’t know and it’s almost like the fear of losing out on recording these really intricate relationships kind of drives me, because I know all these spots have interesting things going on.”
Rupert believes that conservation is about more than just botany and science. It is also about people.
He points out that the majority of individuals actively using indigenous plants for medicinal and ceremonial reasons ‒ those who possibly have the most intimate relationship with these plants ‒ are not the same group of people who make up the core of most botanical societies. Nor are they the ones most likely to regularly walk around a botanical garden.
“There are [many] South Africans who like plants, not just from the aesthetic point of view, but who need it,” Rupert says, touching on something that is in fact extremely relevant to conservation in South African.
“Your average South African does not have a good vibe around conservation because of the traditional model, and this is not that way now. But the one we grew up with was people whacking up fences, keeping you out and kicking you out of areas,” he says, denoting a time where people could be evicted much more easily under the previous government.
However, under Rupert’s passion, compassion and understanding for “the green stuff”, is determination. Rupert acknowledges the work that needs to be done.
Rupert begins paging through journals, magazines and pamphlets, most of which he’s contributed to himself. He makes the time to write, educate, work and oversee a conservation unit. Alongside his academic papers sits the article he wrote for VISI. A piece that many Capetonians can empathise with, as he touches on the moral choice of gardening with indigenous plants ‒ a very appropriate piece considering the increasing vulnerability of our national water supply.
It is not cold, is not filled with academic jargon and isn’t distant. It is conservation in the homes and gardens of all South Africans. Rupert’s conservation discourse is accessible and understandable ‒ a very rare (and valuable) talent in environmentalism.
There is a note of pride in his voice when he talks about South Africa’s collected botanical knowledge.
“The thing about botany is that our base resources are amazing,” Rupert says, referencing our botanical books. “When I travel, I’m always looking for plant books and… we’re very spoiled here,” he says. What is missing, according to Rupert, is good storytelling.
With all his work, he wishes he had more time to talk to people and share stories about the importance of doing environmental work. He emphasises the need for stories to reach the public. Stories about saving a niche plant from the brink of extinction or fighting off a development project in a threatened habitat.
According to Rupert, these narratives – when told well – have the power to show how important and achievable conservation can be.
Sitting down on a rock below the art gallery at Kirstenbosch, waiting for his picture to be taken, Rupert is surrounded by a species of Erica, a member of the fynbos family. Erica verticillata to be precise; a plant which is famous at the Garden for having been thought to be extinct, before being rediscovered. It is fitting to see this botanist ‒ one who is passionate about his work, understands it, and is really doing a lot of good by protecting and documenting plant species and their relationships ‒ alongside a plant that stands as a testament to what conservation can achieve.
*Please note: This interview was conducted before the nationwide lockdown regulations were implemented.