title: Application of optical and infrared remote sensing to the retrieval of selected land and sea features

authors: Jelenak, Aleksandar

abstract: This thesis discusses two main areas of remote sensing research and thus is divided into two parts. The first part deals with novel methods for sea surface temperature (SST) retrieval using measurements of the Advanced Very High Resolution Radiometer (AVHRR) on-board the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's (NOAA) series of satellites.

The basis for this work is the Dynamic Water Vapour method developed by Steyn-Ross et al. [1993], Smith [1993]. Two new methods are proposed in this thesis: The Dynamic Water Vapour or Atmospheric Temperature (DWVT) and the Simultaneous Water Vapour and Atmospheric Temperature (SimWVT).

The second part of the thesis is a feasibility study on the potential applicability of airborne multispectral remote sensing technology to pasture biomass prediction in New Zealand. This was a pilot project, done in collaboration with AgResearch Ltd. and Dexcel Ltd. Charles Sturt University’s four-band airborne multispectral imaging system was used to acquire images of 65 test pasture plots.

Biomass of the test plots is predicted using a selection of vegetation indices, and multispectral reflectances. The results confirm the widely-held view that vegetation indices are not applicable to New Zealand pastures. Noticeably better results are achieved using the multispectral test plot reflectance in linear multiple regression-type equations.

text: Application of optical and infrared remote sensing to the retrieval of selected land and sea features This thesis discusses two main areas of remote sensing research and thus is divided into two parts. The first part deals with novel methods for sea surface temperature (SST) retrieval using measurements of the Advanced Very High Resolution Radiometer (AVHRR) on-board the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's (NOAA) series of satellites.

The basis for this work is the Dynamic Water Vapour method developed by Steyn-Ross et al. [1993], Smith [1993]. Two new methods are proposed in this thesis: The Dynamic Water Vapour or Atmospheric Temperature (DWVT) and the Simultaneous Water Vapour and Atmospheric Temperature (SimWVT).

The second part of the thesis is a feasibility study on the potential applicability of airborne multispectral remote sensing technology to pasture biomass prediction in New Zealand. This was a pilot project, done in collaboration with AgResearch Ltd. and Dexcel Ltd. Charles Sturt University’s four-band airborne multispectral imaging system was used to acquire images of 65 test pasture plots.

Biomass of the test plots is predicted using a selection of vegetation indices, and multispectral reflectances. The results confirm the widely-held view that vegetation indices are not applicable to New Zealand pastures. Noticeably better results are achieved using the multispectral test plot reflectance in linear multiple regression-type equations.

year: 2001

title: Space invaders in surfing's white tribe: Exploring surfing, race and identity

authors: Wheaton, Belinda

abstract: As has been well documented, surfing has a long history as a Polynesian cultural form that, through colonization, was appropriated by white North Americans and Australians in the mid-twentieth century. As part of this process of appropriation, the activity was redefined and reorganized,drawing “nostalgically on an imagined cultural authenticity from Hawaii's Pre-colonial surfing past.” Since the 1950s, the quintessential image of the surfing body has been “phenotypically White,” specifically, a young, white, male subject, slim, toned, tanned—but not dark skinned—with a mop of sun-bleached hair. Fuelled by the Hollywood beach movies, and the surf music craze epitomized by the Beach Boys,in the United States the white, blonde surfer became so iconic he—and increasingly she—became the face of California. As Walker details in Waves of 2 Resistance this Colonial appropriation has not been without resistance in Hawai’i . Yet this particular image of surfing has subsequently been perpetuated more globally in both the surfing niche media and through wider mass media surfing discourses. Thus, although surfing’s imagery as a white, male, youthful, privileged activity and space is a relatively recent and contextually specific social construction, globally it has been, and remains the hegemonic one. 
My focus in this chapter is the experiences of surfers who do not fit this hegemonic ideal—specifically, those racialized as nonwhite. Surfing participants often claim—indeed believe—that surfing culture is inclusive of all,and that race and gender don’t matter. However, despite a desire for an inclusive and cosmopolitan citizenship, as I illustrate, surf culture and the surfing media continue to perpetuate what Chivers-Yochim terms an “imagined community” of whiteness. This chapter draws on a research project that explored the formative and contemporary experiences of minority ethnic surfers, predominantly African Americans, who lived and surfed around Los Angeles, California. I explore how these black surfers negotiate space and identity in the surfing culture, and their experiences of belonging and exclusion. 
First, I situate the case study within a broader understanding of sport, whiteness, and exclusion, highlighting research that reveals surfing in the United States and beyond as a gendered and racialized space. I also consider the central and problematic roles that surfing media and industry play in developing our sporting imagination. I then turn to the contradictory experiences of belonging of the black surfers in my case study, identifying some of the difficulties and barriers experienced by these surfers carving a space in a white-dominated cultural practice. While some aspects of their experiences and identities were shared with white and other ethnic-minority surfers, what was most revealing was the range of difficulties or constraints that many of these surfers had faced and which they saw as barriers to other African Americans becoming surfers.

text: Space invaders in surfing's white tribe: Exploring surfing, race and identity As has been well documented, surfing has a long history as a Polynesian cultural form that, through colonization, was appropriated by white North Americans and Australians in the mid-twentieth century. As part of this process of appropriation, the activity was redefined and reorganized,drawing “nostalgically on an imagined cultural authenticity from Hawaii's Pre-colonial surfing past.” Since the 1950s, the quintessential image of the surfing body has been “phenotypically White,” specifically, a young, white, male subject, slim, toned, tanned—but not dark skinned—with a mop of sun-bleached hair. Fuelled by the Hollywood beach movies, and the surf music craze epitomized by the Beach Boys,in the United States the white, blonde surfer became so iconic he—and increasingly she—became the face of California. As Walker details in Waves of 2 Resistance this Colonial appropriation has not been without resistance in Hawai’i . Yet this particular image of surfing has subsequently been perpetuated more globally in both the surfing niche media and through wider mass media surfing discourses. Thus, although surfing’s imagery as a white, male, youthful, privileged activity and space is a relatively recent and contextually specific social construction, globally it has been, and remains the hegemonic one. 
My focus in this chapter is the experiences of surfers who do not fit this hegemonic ideal—specifically, those racialized as nonwhite. Surfing participants often claim—indeed believe—that surfing culture is inclusive of all,and that race and gender don’t matter. However, despite a desire for an inclusive and cosmopolitan citizenship, as I illustrate, surf culture and the surfing media continue to perpetuate what Chivers-Yochim terms an “imagined community” of whiteness. This chapter draws on a research project that explored the formative and contemporary experiences of minority ethnic surfers, predominantly African Americans, who lived and surfed around Los Angeles, California. I explore how these black surfers negotiate space and identity in the surfing culture, and their experiences of belonging and exclusion. 
First, I situate the case study within a broader understanding of sport, whiteness, and exclusion, highlighting research that reveals surfing in the United States and beyond as a gendered and racialized space. I also consider the central and problematic roles that surfing media and industry play in developing our sporting imagination. I then turn to the contradictory experiences of belonging of the black surfers in my case study, identifying some of the difficulties and barriers experienced by these surfers carving a space in a white-dominated cultural practice. While some aspects of their experiences and identities were shared with white and other ethnic-minority surfers, what was most revealing was the range of difficulties or constraints that many of these surfers had faced and which they saw as barriers to other African Americans becoming surfers.

year: 2017

title: Maori and goldfields revenue

authors: Hart, Philip

abstract: When gold was first discovered, the Crown accepted that it needed Maori consent to open their land for mining and had to assuage fears of losing their land. Accordingly, officials devised agreements to protect Maori interests and to provide a financial return. Because of what had occurred in other countries after goldfields opened, both Maori and the government agreed that these must be well controlled. Over time, the regulations increasingly favoured the mining industry rather than the original landowners, who were not informed about the true value of their land, auriferous or otherwise. Maori were confused about their financial entitlement because of changes made by the government to the fees payable to them. 
Some rangatira, most notably Wirope Hoterene Taipari of Ngati Maru, saw a chance to obtain unexpected (and unearned) wealth, as shown by his insistence on opening Thames to miners despite the opposition of most of his hapu. Later, other rangatira wanted to open Ohinemuri and other potential fields because of the money they were promised by impatient miners and by more patient officials. For a brief time, some Maori considered controlling the potential Ohinemuri goldfield themselves. The main incentive to opening land was the wealth received by landowners during the early days of the Thames goldfield, but as mining faded later so did goldfields revenue. Changes to mining regulations diminished the amount distributed to Maori in ways that some Pakeha considered unfair, and these provoked complaints from Maori.
A continuing problem for officials was to ensure that revenue was allocated to the right owners. The system was complex, resulting in delays in paying money and in some Maori obtaining too much and others too little (or none at all), an outcome often resulting from rangatira distributing it as they chose rather than caused by government officials, who did their best to ensure fairness. Over time, the government unilaterally made changes to the system. For their part, miners complained about being required to pay for the right to mine, and encouraged the government to acquire the freehold of goldfield land because miners’ rights on Crown land were one-quarter the cost of those on Maori land. 
The revenue received by the landowners soon slipped through their fingers, sometimes in traditionally competitive gatherings such as tangi. It can be argued that Taipari, who very shrewdly adapted to the new economy (and experienced its perils, becoming bankrupt in 1870), used his income not just to give himself a luxurious lifestyle but also to boost the mana of his hapu. The government has been blamed for not insisting that revenue be protected for the use of future generations, a concept that occurred to only a few Pakeha at the time and to no Maori; far from considering the interests of their descendents, cultivating the land decreased while this revenue was received. But due to the nature of mining, by the twentieth century the landowners were lamenting the serious decline in their income from this source; despite having sold so much of their goldfield lands, some complained at not receiving any more revenue. 
Evaluating the outcome, the Waitangi Tribunal indulged in some counter-factual history by suggesting that the government should have encouraged rangatira to set up trusts to protect the income for future generations, but no rangatira had suggested this idea, nor did they ask that they should manage goldfields jointly with the Crown. After imagining that Maori in partnership with Pakeha capitalists could have developed the goldfields without the involvement of the Crown, the Tribunal had to accept that the outcome would have been the same: loss of money (because apart from anything else mining could not remain payable indefinitely) combined with the loss of much of their land.

text: Maori and goldfields revenue When gold was first discovered, the Crown accepted that it needed Maori consent to open their land for mining and had to assuage fears of losing their land. Accordingly, officials devised agreements to protect Maori interests and to provide a financial return. Because of what had occurred in other countries after goldfields opened, both Maori and the government agreed that these must be well controlled. Over time, the regulations increasingly favoured the mining industry rather than the original landowners, who were not informed about the true value of their land, auriferous or otherwise. Maori were confused about their financial entitlement because of changes made by the government to the fees payable to them. 
Some rangatira, most notably Wirope Hoterene Taipari of Ngati Maru, saw a chance to obtain unexpected (and unearned) wealth, as shown by his insistence on opening Thames to miners despite the opposition of most of his hapu. Later, other rangatira wanted to open Ohinemuri and other potential fields because of the money they were promised by impatient miners and by more patient officials. For a brief time, some Maori considered controlling the potential Ohinemuri goldfield themselves. The main incentive to opening land was the wealth received by landowners during the early days of the Thames goldfield, but as mining faded later so did goldfields revenue. Changes to mining regulations diminished the amount distributed to Maori in ways that some Pakeha considered unfair, and these provoked complaints from Maori.
A continuing problem for officials was to ensure that revenue was allocated to the right owners. The system was complex, resulting in delays in paying money and in some Maori obtaining too much and others too little (or none at all), an outcome often resulting from rangatira distributing it as they chose rather than caused by government officials, who did their best to ensure fairness. Over time, the government unilaterally made changes to the system. For their part, miners complained about being required to pay for the right to mine, and encouraged the government to acquire the freehold of goldfield land because miners’ rights on Crown land were one-quarter the cost of those on Maori land. 
The revenue received by the landowners soon slipped through their fingers, sometimes in traditionally competitive gatherings such as tangi. It can be argued that Taipari, who very shrewdly adapted to the new economy (and experienced its perils, becoming bankrupt in 1870), used his income not just to give himself a luxurious lifestyle but also to boost the mana of his hapu. The government has been blamed for not insisting that revenue be protected for the use of future generations, a concept that occurred to only a few Pakeha at the time and to no Maori; far from considering the interests of their descendents, cultivating the land decreased while this revenue was received. But due to the nature of mining, by the twentieth century the landowners were lamenting the serious decline in their income from this source; despite having sold so much of their goldfield lands, some complained at not receiving any more revenue. 
Evaluating the outcome, the Waitangi Tribunal indulged in some counter-factual history by suggesting that the government should have encouraged rangatira to set up trusts to protect the income for future generations, but no rangatira had suggested this idea, nor did they ask that they should manage goldfields jointly with the Crown. After imagining that Maori in partnership with Pakeha capitalists could have developed the goldfields without the involvement of the Crown, the Tribunal had to accept that the outcome would have been the same: loss of money (because apart from anything else mining could not remain payable indefinitely) combined with the loss of much of their land.

year: 2016