Andrew Lees
Obituaries, The Independent
Andrew Lees, who has died aged 46 of a heart attack whilst filming
in Madagascar, was an environmental campaigner of a kind we will
not have again. Just as environmentalism was becoming professionalised,
he brought to it a messianic ardour which reminded everyone that
it was a love of nature that mattered. Just as the media was falling
in love with the headlines which greenery and scare stories could
generate, he displayed a fascination with hard data and a professionalism
which kept him free of the charge of sensationalism. It is unlikely
that anyone quite so naturally combative, but also innocently so,
will be required or produced.
Born in Norfolk, and loving its lowland traditions, Andrew Lees'
passion was the waterland: bogs, fens and especially rivers were
his natural habitat. He was never happier than when extolling the
virtues of soggy country. Wellington boots were required when you
were with him, and he is said to have amused people in Madagascar
by persisting with them even in the tropics.
His focus did not so much shift as widen when, in the late 70s,
he began to be interested in the way waste could spill into groundwater.
It was hardly surprising that many of us first heard of him in 1980
when he was campaigning against what he thought was a supine Nature
Conservancy Council response to a plan by Swansea City Council to
tip waste on Crymlyn Bog.
In the early 80s, Andrew was well-placed to harry the Ministry
of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food and the EC's Common Agricultural
Policy as they poured grant money into cereals farming, and especially
into draining wet meadowland so that it could be converted for the
plough. He had started a Friends of the Earth group devoted to Broadland
consveration, and was already famous for knowing how to get publicity
for his cause. Freelancing for the Observer, I once went with him
for a long train ride across Halvergate Marshes, one of his favourite
Norfolk battlegrounds, and he was an exhaustingly enthusiastic guide
as we strode, hungover but smoking manfully, to see the scenes where
the right of cows to graze might soon be ended. The walk had followed
a night spent in part gazing at a vast aquarium, Andrew's prize
possession, in which examples of British pondlife were given free
range.
In 1985, Andrew achieved his greatest ambition: to work for FoE
nationally. He was appointed to run the countryside and pesticides
campaign. There he bloodied he nose of a Norfolk chemicals manufacturer.
Andrew had scrupulously searched the official records for what the
firm should and should not have been discharging. He had long ago
realised that often it was the feebleness of a regulatory regime
which could be attacked, as much as any supposed wickedness on the
part of capitalists. He never lost his appetite for investigating
the kind of official documents few journalists could be bothered
with.
Even when the environment was on the national agenda, and much
cleaning-up had been achieved, he knew where the weak spots were.
He campaigned for the abandonment of the last legally-permitted
'drins, notorious organochlorine pesticides, and as water privatisation
became inevitable he exposed the convenient weakening of sewage
treatment standards the new firms would inherit. In this sort of
work his natural allies were Geoffrey Lean at the Observer (now
at the Independent on Sunday) and Marek Mayer at ENDS, the environment
bulletin: journalists of a very different stamp who both worked
closely with him.
Andrew Lees was quite possibly some sort of secular saint, and
he had a saint's faults. He was obsessive - at times to the point
of tedium. But his attention to detail meant that no-one - journalist,
minister or industrialist - could afford to ignore him. Andrew knew
his stuff, and though he was always prepared to milk his story -
and he was never short of them - he never indulged in the kind of
simple scare story which made the outside world wary of many other
campaigners.
Andrew Lees' father, a one time a hotel-keeper in Yarmouth, describes
himself as a "turquoise", a deep blue-green, and always
admired Andrew's work, though the son showed no Tory tendencies
himself. Andrew, one of four brothers, went to a co-educational
school in Harpenden and then to Cardiff University where he studied
botany and zoology.
Though Andrew loved the wildlife of the British Isles, he was equally
effective abroad. It was his work in Nigeria in 1988 which traced
a consignment of very mixed toxic waste, mostly Italian, which had
ended up in loose drums in a rural village. He then tracked the
waste as it was re-shipped in the notorious Karin B, which finally
ended up, that August, seeking a berth in Britain. Virginia Bottomley
was the hapless junior minister in charge of the Department of the
Environment during that holiday season, and her officials were able
to remind her of an emerging policy, agreed at OECD level, that
in principle countries should look after their own waste. The argument
was deployed, the Karin B was moved on, and what had been a slow-moving
policy began to look politically exciting.
Andrew Lees's mission in Madagascar is still unclear, though it
is hardly likely that he was there solely to get a tan and to undertake
a photo-safari. He was far too committed a campaigner to take an
ordinary holiday. Andrew was not ordinarily ambitious, though he
was clearly disappointed when he was not made director of Friends
of the Earth after Jonathon Porritt's departure in 1990. In truth,
though as FoE's campaigns director he was devoted to his colleagues
and liked as much as admired by them, it is hard to see him as an
administrator. In recent years he became adept at the soundbite,
which must have cost a man who so loved detail a deal of self-discipline.
But he was never likely to have become a master of statesmanlike
compromise and would always have taken the battle to wherever he
thought the natural world was being damaged most.
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