National Portrait: Pete Bethune's long road from oil explorer to enviro campaigner

Tuesday, 1 May 2018

He doesn't own a car or a house, hitchhikes from place to place and only wears a suit in a courtroom.

And well-known conservationist Pete Bethune wouldn't have it any other way.

The 53-year-old spends just three months a year in his homeland these days.

Bethune is preparing to head on his yearly mission to the Philippines, where he'll train fishery enforcement teams.

'Over there I train navy seals, the Ministry of Fisheries and local police. So they give me 15 to 20 guys to train them up on how to stop illegal fishing, covering such things as surveillance, vessel boarding, types of destructive fishing, securing personnel, how to search and secure a vessel, and evidence-gathering for prosecution.'

After the Philippines, he's off to Cambodia,  Colombia and a Pacific Island he won't name for fear that it will give illegal fishermen the heads up. He also has dry land missions and sometime during the year he will head to Africa to help stop the illegal poaching of animals.

It's not the same Bethune who had the idea of racing a biofuel boat around the world in record time.

He admits he's changed from a gregarious person to someone who prefers his own company.

It was the Bethune's darkest time that brought about the change.

In 2010 he was sentenced to jail for two years by a Japanese court, but it was suspended for five years. In June of that year, Bethune pleaded guilty to charges relating to the illegal boarding of a Japanese whaling ship, but not guilty to assault. He had been held in custody since February, when he boarded the Japanese whaling fleet's security ship, the Shonan Maru II, during its annual trip south.

'It changed me quite a lot. I came out after Japan quite a mess. I had a form of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and with it, I had anger issues. I would snap really quickly. I was struggling.'

In prison, Bethune was in a solitary cell for 23 and a half hours a day.

'I wasn't allowed to speak. Only when someone asks you a question and then you've got to answer but you've got to be very quiet. So you hear nothing until there is a fight or rape.'

When Bethune got out his ex-wife told him they had no money.

'I called up one of my sponsors in the States and said I need some money so he sent $10,000. I went down to the bank on Monday and the money wasn't there.

'There was this little wee bank teller sitting behind the counter saying, sorry Mr Bethune, there's no money and she turned the screen around – there was $5.40 in the account, and I snapped.

'I remember eyeing her up and looking at her neck and thinking could I reach her neck in one lunge. I'm this far away from grabbing her and throttling her. I've never been a violent person, never been in a fight. And I just thought, what the hell am I doing.'

Bethune's work is life-threatening. In November 2017 he thought his number was up.

He was attending a meeting in Santana, Brazil, when he noticed he was being followed. He went into a cafe and when he came out  he was jumped on by two men, one with a knife. During the struggle, Bethune was stabbed.

'The blade went between my ribs so it got wedged in there.

'I've had a couple of difficult experiences but I really thought my number was up.' 

The Kiwi activist grew up in Hamilton's Marama St with a fairly typical childhood. He and his twin brother Baz would go possum hunting at the weekends.

Bethune's parents, Don and Mary, have both died in the past six years but Bethune feels that his father understood why he did what he did against Japanese whaling.

As chairman of the Wel Energy Trust Don Bethune navigated the troubled waters of electricity reform in the early 1990s, balancing commercial viability with community commitment. 

'My dad always stood up for things. He was very vocal when I was in prison in Japan. He was hassling the government and anyone that would listen. He really valued what I did.

'I think mum was slightly embarrassed about her son being in prison.' 

Bethune's daughters, Danielle, 23, and Alycia, 21, haven't followed him into conservation.

'But they are both free, principled kids and very focused on doing their own thing and following their own path.'

Bethune's own path to conservation was a long one.  He began his working life as an oil exploration engineer overseas but began thinking more about renewable fuel, amid his uneasiness with oil.

'In 2004 I was in Sydney doing an MBA and to finish the degree you had to write a 20,000-word project on anything you wanted that had an economic or business impact. So I wrote about alternative fuels for road transport. And through it I became a convert to biodiesel. So this is kind of the start of my environmentalism.' 

The result was Earthrace, a futuristic-looking biofuel-powered vessel launched in 2006 to promote the then-novel concept as a realistic alternative to fossil fuels.

After two attempts stricken with rough weather and breakdowns, Bethune completed a circumnavigation. He eventually sold the boat to an American investor and captained it on behalf of activist group Sea Shepherd during its anti-whaling expeditions in the Southern Ocean.

It was there in 2010 that Earthrace collided with a Japanese vessel and sank in controversial circumstances. It was his boarding of a Japanese vessel later that season that led to his time in a Japanese jail.

An acrimonious row between Bethune and Sea Shepherd over the collision and its aftermath saw Bethune dissociate himself from the group upon his release.

Despite this, Bethune's passion for conservation has never waned.

'I'm blessed to do what I do. I get to work on stuff that I believe in.

'The world is a fraction of a better place with what I do. I don't claim to do amazing stuff but there is no doubt that I've saved a lot of animals and there is a lot of what I call environmental criminals in prison because of my work.' 

Bethune still has his rituals before doing a mission, including shaving his head, though he's not sure why he does it. The second one is to scoff as much food as possible beforehand as once the adrenalin hits it is nearly impossible to eat.

Bethune's crew on missions are often volunteers from around the world. But he's also had some missions with a team of ex-military as part of his TV programme The Operatives. In the reality show, which screened for 18 episodes, Bethune led the team around the world exposing environmental criminals.

'I do get nervous before a mission – it's a combination of my safety, the mission being successful and also my guys. Once you get shot at a few times. My job is to bring my guys back every time. Which I have done.' 

Conservation work will never make Bethune wealthy but that is not a main motivator for him.

'I'm comfortable but a lot of people would struggle with it. I have no assets. I've got a container out by the airport that has a whole lot of tactical gear in it that is the only asset I have. I have a computer and cell phone, some dive gear, that is it. I don't have a house. I don't even have a car.' 

Bethune has no plans to stop what he's doing, although it might change.

'I will do it until I die I expect. At the moment I am physically capable but give it another 10 years and see if I am still climbing up the sides of boats and things like that.'