Fire, in its essence, is about connecting people with place, past with future, ground to air. The 8th International Fire Behaviour and Fuels conference began today in Hobart, Tasmania with a Welcome to Country from Trawlwoolway man Todd Sculthorpe, who asked everyone to think about knowledge that respects and understands fire. Here is his Welcome to the 470 delegates.
Ya pulingina, hello and welcome.
My name is Todd Sculthorpe. I stand before you as a proud Trawlwoolway man, carrying a lineage that stretches back through my ancestors to Fanny Cochrane-Smith, and her parents Tanganutra and Nicerminic and their parents and so on. Their lives, their resilience, and their deep relationship with Country live on in me, and it is with that good spirit and with deep respect that I welcome you all here today to Nipaluna, Hobart.
This land was traditionally the lands of the Muwinina people, they cared for this country nestled between the feet of Kunanyi/Mt Wellington and the shores of Timtumili Minanya/the River Derwent. From as far down the southeastern coast to the Kingborough region and as far north as the Derwent valley they cared for country, introduced vital life-giving burning that has shaped this landscape. As a community we feel their absence deeply because with them went generations of cultural knowledge and a deep relationship with country. But they will not be forgotten by us the Palawa community and because of that they will continue to live on in our hearts and our intentions to respect and care for country.
I pay respects to my community the Palawa people, the Tasmanian Aboriginal community, as the enduring custodians of this land Lutruwita. I pay my respects to our Elders past and present and to those that did not survive the impacts of invasion. I extend that respect to any first nations people here today, to your elders and families and all delegates and presenters.
You have come here as fire practitioners, scientists, land managers, thinkers, and knowledge holders from across the world. You have come to talk about fire, its behaviour, its fuels, its risks, its science. But here, on this island, fire is more than a phenomenon to be studied. It is a relationship. It is a language. It is a practice of care.
For Palawa people, fire has always been part of how we understand and live with Country. It is not something separate from us, it is something we move with, something we listen to, something we carry responsibility for.
When we speak about cultural burning, we are not simply speaking about a technique or a management strategy. We are speaking about a way of seeing the world, where fire is guided by knowledge passed down over tens of thousands of years. Knowledge built through observation, through story, through practice, and through deep, enduring connection.
Fire, in this sense, is not destructive. It is regenerative. It is purposeful. It is relational.
It clears, but it also reveals.
It burns, but it also heals.
It transforms, but it also connects.
And importantly, it is never applied in isolation, it is always part of a broader understanding of Country: the seasons, the winds, the animals, the plants, and the people.
In Lutruwita, our ancestors used fire carefully and intentionally. They read the landscape in ways that science is still catching up to, understanding when to burn, where to burn, and when to let Country rest. These practices shaped ecosystems over tens of thousands of years, creating mosaics of vegetation that greatly reduced the risk and intensity of wildfires and supported biodiversity.
Today, many of the landscapes you study, many of the fuel loads you model, are the result of disrupted relationships with fire. When cultural burning was interrupted, when people were removed from Country, fire did not disappear. It changed. It built up. It became something more dangerous, more unpredictable. And we have seen the impact of this not just here in Lutruwita and not just in Australia but globally.
And that brings me to where we find ourselves now.
We are living in a time where fire is increasingly framed as a global crisis. We see it in the headlines, megafires, unprecedented seasons, landscapes burning with an intensity and scale that challenges our systems and our understanding.
But perhaps what we are really seeing is not just a fire problem, but a relationship problem.
A disconnection.
A forgetting.
A loss of balance between people, fire, and Country.
If I can offer a metaphor, think of the world right now as a landscape carrying a heavy fuel load. Not just physical fuels, but social, political, and environmental tensions. Climate change, biodiversity loss, inequality, conflict, all of these are like dry tinder accumulating over time.
And when the right, or perhaps we should say the wrong, conditions come together, those tensions can ignite. Sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly. Sometimes in ways we expect, and often in ways we don’t.
We are living in a time of unpredictable ignition.
And just like wildfire, once something starts, it can spread rapidly, crossing boundaries, overwhelming systems, and challenging our ability to respond.
But we know, from fire, that unpredictability does not mean uncontrollability.
It means we need deeper understanding.
It means we need better relationships.
It means we need to pay attention to the conditions we are creating.
And that is why conferences like this matter.
Because just as fire moves across landscapes, knowledge must move across communities.
You have come together here, from different countries, disciplines, and perspectives, to share what you know. To respectfully challenge each other. To learn. To innovate.
And in that coming together, there is great strength.
But I would encourage you to think about this not just as an exchange of information, but as an opportunity to build relationships, relationships with each other, and relationships with the places you work.
Because knowledge without relationship can only take us so far.
Cultural burning teaches us that the most important question is not just “How do we burn?” but “Why do we burn?” and “Who are we in relation to this place?”
It asks us to slow down.
To observe.
To listen.
To be guided, not just by data, but by responsibility.
And it reminds us that fire is not just a tool, it is a teacher.
Here in Lutruwita, we are in a time of renewal. There is a growing recognition of the importance of cultural burning practices, and a re-emergence of Aboriginal leadership in caring for Country. But this work is not about going backwards, it is about bringing together knowledge systems.
To offer another cultural analogy,
It is about weaving.
Weaving together Palawa knowledge and Western science.
Weaving together long-term observation and modern technology.
Weaving together community, policy, and practice.
And like any weaving, it requires care, patience, and respect.
Because not all threads are the same.
Not all knowledge is held in the same way.
And not all voices have been equally heard.
So as you move through this conference, I invite you to think about what you are contributing to that weave.
What knowledge are you bringing?
What knowledge are you open to receiving?
And how are you ensuring that the relationships you build here are grounded in respect and reciprocity?
Because the challenges we face, whether they are wildfires, climate change, or broader global uncertainties, cannot be addressed by any one group alone.
They require collective effort.
They require humility.
They require us to recognise that no single system of knowledge holds all the answers.
Fire, in its essence, is about connection.
It connects the ground to the air.
It connects the past to the future.
It connects people to place.
And in many ways, this conference is a fire in itself, a coming together of energy (physical and intellectual) and potential.
So, my question or my challenge if you will indulge me is, what will you do with that energy?
Will it burn quickly and fade?
Or will it be tended carefully, like a cultural burn, creating space for new growth, strengthening connections, and leaving the landscape healthier than before?
That choice sits with all of us.
Before I close, I want to return to where I began, with my ancestors.
Fanny Cochrane, Tanganutra, Nicerminic.
They lived through times of immense change, upheaval, and loss. They witnessed the disruption of Country and culture in ways that are difficult to fully comprehend. And yet, through them, knowledge endured.
Connection endured.
Responsibility endured.
I stand here because of that endurance.
And I speak to you today with that same sense of responsibility, to ensure that what we pass on to future generations is not a landscape of crisis, but a landscape of care and of respect.
A landscape where fire is understood, respected, and used wisely.
A landscape where knowledge is shared, not siloed.
A landscape where people come together, not just in times of emergency, but in ongoing relationship.
So in that spirit of care and respect, I welcome you to Nipaluna.
I welcome you to Lutruwita.
I welcome you to this gathering.
May your time here be meaningful.
May your conversations be respectful.
May your learning be deep.
And may the knowledge you carry forward help create a better, more balanced relationship with fire and with the world we all share.
Nayri nina-tu (thank you).
