Kokoda Deserves Better

By Glenn Azar

There is something about the public commentary surrounding Kokoda that has been troubling me for some time.

I am not talking about legitimate criticism. There should always be room to question decisions, challenge poor standards and demand better from those responsible for protecting the Track and looking after the people who walk it.

I am talking about commentary that, in my view, repeatedly crosses the line from constructive criticism into disparagement.

Operators. Landowners. Papua New Guinea. The Australian Government. The PNG Government.

When the conversation becomes a succession of attacks, I think we are entitled to ask a simple question:

What is this actually doing for Kokoda?

Is it helping resolve problems? Is it strengthening relationships? Is it giving people an accurate understanding of the experience?

Or is it leaving people with the impression that Kokoda is a place defined by dysfunction, conflict and people who cannot be trusted?

Because that is a serious thing to put into the world about a place that means so much to so many.

Criticism carries responsibility

I earn my living taking people on adventures, including Kokoda. I have a commercial interest in people choosing to walk the Track, and I am happy to be transparent about that.

That also gives me responsibilities.

I have a responsibility to speak honestly about the challenges. To prepare people properly. To listen when something needs to improve. To acknowledge when we get something wrong.

I also believe I have a responsibility to treat the people of Papua New Guinea with respect and to consider the consequences of what I say publicly.

Those responsibilities do not disappear when someone stops operating.

Years of experience can give a person valuable knowledge. They can also give their words considerable influence. That influence should come with care, accuracy and a willingness to contribute to solutions.

Having spent years working on Kokoda does not place any of us above scrutiny. Nor does it give us ownership of its story.

None of us owns Kokoda.

We have been given the opportunity to work there, to learn there and to introduce others to an extraordinary place. That should create humility and gratitude.

Remember what we ask people to learn there

At Isurava, we ask trekkers to reflect on courage, endurance, mateship and sacrifice.

We speak about young men who endured conditions most of us will never fully comprehend. We tell stories of men who kept going because others were depending on them.

There is an account associated with the 39th Battalion that captures this powerfully: men returning to their battalion because it was in trouble and because their battalion expected it of them.

Their mates needed them.

That sense of responsibility to one another is central to what Kokoda means to me.

I do not claim to speak for those men, or to know what they would think about every argument taking place today. But I can ask whether our own behaviour reflects the values we so readily invoke.

If we teach mateship on the Track, surely it should influence how we conduct ourselves when we come home.

If we speak about sacrifice, surely we can put something ahead of our own need to win an argument.

If we ask trekkers to leave Kokoda as better people, surely we should hold ourselves to that same expectation.

Those values should reach beyond the memorial service.

Papua New Guinea deserves respect

One of the things I find most frustrating is how easily public arguments about Kokoda can reduce Papua New Guineans to obstacles in somebody else’s story.

A landowner becomes a problem. A village becomes an inconvenience. A disagreement becomes another opportunity to condemn the country.

But these are people with homes, families, responsibilities and a stake in what happens on their land.

For us, Kokoda may be an expedition, a business or a deeply meaningful journey.

For communities along the Track, it is also home.

That matters.

Respecting local people does not require agreement with every decision. It requires us to listen, understand the circumstances and recognise that our preferred outcome is not the only interest that counts.

We cannot celebrate the contribution of Papuans in the wartime story while treating the voices of present-day communities as an irritation.

The respect has to extend beyond the history lesson.

Mateship does not mean silence

Let me be very clear: I am not suggesting that everyone should keep quiet for the sake of appearances.

Unsafe practices should be challenged. Poor treatment should be challenged. Decisions that damage the Track or disadvantage communities should be challenged.

Mateship includes having difficult conversations and holding one another accountable.

But an allegation needs evidence. A disagreement needs context. A demand for improvement needs some explanation of what better would look like.

There is a substantial difference between identifying a specific failure and encouraging people to distrust an entire industry or country.

I can respect a person who says, “Here is the problem, here is the evidence, and here is what needs to change.”

I struggle to respect commentary that leaves everyone diminished and offers no credible way forward.

Being the loudest critic does not automatically make someone the strongest advocate.

Consider who carries the consequences

Public commentary travels well beyond the people directly involved in an argument.

A prospective trekker may have no way of assessing competing claims. They may simply decide the whole thing sounds too difficult, too hostile or too uncertain.

When that happens, the consequences can reach people who had no part in the dispute: guides, porters, campsite owners and families whose livelihoods are connected to trekking.

That does not justify concealing problems. It makes accuracy and proportion essential.

Before publishing, I believe we should ask ourselves:

Have I represented this fairly?

Have I given the people involved a reasonable opportunity to respond?

Am I helping readers understand the issue?

What outcome am I trying to achieve?

Those are reasonable standards for anyone who claims to care about Kokoda.

They are standards I should be held to as well.

The legacy is in how we behave

I believe there is something deeply wrong with benefiting from Kokoda’s history and relationships while allowing public contempt to become the defining feature of our contribution.

To me, that falls short of the spirit we ask people to honour there.

Our responsibility is bigger than our own business, reputation or grievance.

We should want better standards across the industry. We should want local communities to benefit. We should want history shared accurately and respectfully. We should want the next generation to have the opportunity to walk, learn and build relationships there.

That takes work. It takes honest disagreement, patience and cooperation between people who will not always see things the same way.

Constant disparagement makes that work harder.

Kokoda deserves robust discussion. It deserves accountability. It deserves people willing to stand up when something is wrong.

It also deserves people willing to help put things right.

If we are going to make our living telling the story of mateship, we should be prepared to practise it.

That is the standard I believe we owe Kokoda.

And it is the standard I intend to hold myself to.