Assessing biodiversity policy designs in Australia, France and Sweden. Comparative lessons for transformative governance of biodiversity?

ABSTRACT

Biodiversity decline undermines the conditions for life on Earth resulting in calls for transformative governance of biodiversity. Under the Convention on Biological Diversity, national biodiversity strategies provide the primary mechanism through which governments demonstrate their conservation efforts. With many countries due to develop new strategies under the Post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework, it is timely to assess existing ones to identify policy design elements that could be ‘ratcheted up’ to meet the transformative agenda. This article analyzes and compares the policy designs of national biodiversity strategies in Australia, France and Sweden. We cover problem framing, policy goals, targeted groups, implementing agents, and policy instruments, to draw lessons on how national strategies can be designed to further support transformation of biodiversity governance. We identify elements in these strategies that can be used to inspire future ones: a negotiated framing of biodiversity and participatory processes in France, nested and integrated goals, targets and measures in Sweden, and an engagement with indigenous knowledge in Australia. However, to bring about transformative change, the analysis also shows the need for novel and fundamental re-designs to successfully target indirect drivers of biodiversity loss, shift power relations, and make biodiversity conservation a priority rather than an option.

KEYWORDS:

• National biodiversity strategies
• policy design
• biodiversity policy
• governance
• transformative change

Introduction

The Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) provides a foundation for governance to conserve biodiversity and ensure the sustainable use and equitable sharing of its components. In 2010, a Strategic Plan to strengthen biodiversity governance was adopted, deciding the so-called ‘Aichi targets’ to coordinate international efforts (CBD, 2010). The Plan re-affirmed National Biodiversity Strategies and Action Plans (NBSAPs) as primary mechanisms for conserving biodiversity and prioritized the mainstreaming of biodiversity into decision-making across government and society. Ten years later, none of the Aichi targets have been met (Buchanan et al., 2020) and biodiversity continues to dramatically decline (IPBES, 2019). Transformative change – defined as a fundamental, system-wide reorientation of technological, social, and economic structures that tackle not only direct but also indirect drivers of biodiversity loss – has been increasingly recognized as a necessity to both reverse biodiversity decline and meet the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) (IPBES, 2019). International ambitions have moved beyond ‘mainstreaming’ biodiversity, towards ‘transformative governance’ to unlock transformations for sustainable futures (Razzaque et al., 2019; Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021).

While ‘[t]he cumulative impact of the implementation of all [NBSAPs] and equivalent instruments represents the combined global effort to reverse the loss of biodiversity’ (Leadley et al., 2014, p. 365), peer-reviewed analyses of NBSAPs are surprisingly scarce. Existing literature conclude that NBSAPs have encouraged government engagement in biodiversity governance but largely failed in mainstreaming biodiversity or in promoting structural change. Among contributions, Sarkki et al. (2016) assessed the Finnish NBSAP process and found a ‘responsibility gap’ between the environmental administration and other policy sectors, and Adenle et al. (2014) similarly argued for the importance of a ‘whole-of-government’ approach. Ray et al. (2021) concluded, after evaluating implementation of Canada’s NBSAP, that law reform will not be enough and must be accompanied by innovative governance and an altogether different mindset towards resource management and land use. Comparative studies show that biodiversity mainstreaming remains a challenge worldwide (Whitehorn et al., 2019), while Pisupati and Prip (2015) conclude that issues beyond the direct drivers of biodiversity loss have received limited attention in NBSAPs, and the need for greater legal preparedness and resource mobilization.

However, there are few examples of studies that assess NBSAPs beyond the goal of mainstreaming (i.e. integrating biodiversity into plans, policies and strategies of different (economic) sectors (Whitehorn et al., 2019)) to also assess their potential to contribute to a transformative agenda (see Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021). Moreover, to our knowledge, the existing literature does not engage with the full set of policy design elements embedded in NBSAP documents, and especially not social constructive elements identified by Schneider and Ingram (1997). Policy texts indeed have ‘performative power’, influencing how actors think and act, and thus need to be studied to understand their constitution. Studying policy designs helps to understand how the purposeful efforts of government allocate values in society in ways that both frame and address policy problems (Hansson-Forman et al., 2021; Schneider & Ingram, 1997). As policy designs ‘feed forward into subsequent policy processes’ (Schneider & Sidney, 2009, p. 105), such analyses are important to improve future policy developments, with better-designed policies offering greater prospects for addressing critical policy problems (Howlett et al., 2014).

Here we aim to reduce this research gap, noting that new NBSAPs are to be developed for the Post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework (Bulkeley et al., 2020) and in the context of scientific calls for transformative change (IPBES, 2019). We address the following research questions: How have NBSAPs been designed in Australia, France and Sweden? Which lessons can be drawn from these existing designs to further support transformative governance for biodiversity?

Following this introduction, we first combine insights from research on policy design and transformative governance to develop an analytical framework to identify and assess design elements of biodiversity policy. After presenting the research design, including case selection, materials, and methods, we unpack the designs of the three NBSAPs, followed by a comparative analysis across elements. Next, we discuss policy design elements that can support transformative governance as well as critical areas in which future designs need to be fundamentally rethought. We conclude by reflecting on how the analysis of policy design can contribute to research on transformative change.

Analytical framework

Schneider and Ingram’s (1997) framework on policy design identifies elements of public policy, dealing with both rational and instrumental (e.g. policy instruments and goals), and value-laden components (e.g. framing), as well as highlighting that designs are political and closely linked to dominant social constructions (Schneider & Sidney, 2009). Drawing on this work, we identify and operationalize key design elements and analytical questions to guide our analysis of biodiversity strategies (Table 1).

Various approaches to advance transformation have been discussed in the literature (e.g. Linnér & Wibeck, 2019; Patterson et al., 2017; Scoones et al., 2020). We selected Visseren-Hamakers et al. (2021)’s approach, which focuses on biodiversity and brings attention to the need for integrative, inclusive, adaptive, and pluralist governance. This approach comes with certain premises. First, even though transformative change is unlikely to be fully planned or anticipated, governance (and thus policies and strategies) is needed to enable it. Second, this approach carries both normative and instrumental stances. It aligns with the normative objectives of the IPBES for biodiversity and sustainable development, but also draws on a broader review of transformative governance (including Razzaque et al., 2019) to identify the characteristics of transformative governance that are necessary to reach these objectives (Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021). Third, changes in policy instruments and settings (i.e. first and second order change) may not automatically result in paradigmatic, transformative change (Hall, 1993). Mobilizing biodiversity strategies should thus be seen as necessary, but not necessarily sufficient to instigate transformative change. Principle-level advice on transformative governance of biodiversity needs to be translated into concrete policies and measures through concerted actions by government (as well as other stakeholders) on various levels. While truly novel approaches are likely needed, some existing governance practices may also provide inspiration and learning. Thus, while the NBSAPs following the 2011–2020 Strategic Plan for Biodiversity focused on mainstreaming biodiversity rather than transformative change, they may contain some useful examples.

Problem framings provide representations of problems, why they are worthy of public intervention, and what should be done (Schneider & Ingram, 1997). There is considerable debate around why biodiversity is important, with a basic distinction being between eco-centric, anthropocentric, and relational perspectives (Chan et al., 2016); and around how biodiversity depletion can or should be solved (Büscher & Fletcher, 2020). Conventional approaches to biodiversity governance focus on direct drivers, such as land-use or over-exploitation of species, while transformative governance also aims to structurally affect the indirect drivers of biodiversity loss, including demography, politico-economic institutions, societal values and technologies (Razzaque et al., 2019; Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021).

Policy goals signify what is to be altered or attained through a policy (Schneider & Ingram, 1997). Policy goals range from abstract and generic aims to operationalized objectives, specific targets, and on-the-ground requirements (Howlett et al., 2014). Biodiversity policy goals are ‘often ambiguous, uncertain, contested, or overlapping’ and in practice often center on protecting species on a national red-list and/or securing ecosystem services (Doremus, 2003, p. 226). While societies know, relate to and value biodiversity in diverse ways, little of this plurality is included in biodiversity governance, which undermines conservation achievements (IPBES, 2019). For transformative governance, biodiversity goals need to reflect this plurality of values, perspectives, and knowledge systems, and need to be nested and integrated across policy areas (Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021).

Target groups refer to the peoples, groups, and organizations whose behavior the policy is meant to change or affect. Because of feed-forward effects, politically powerful and/or positively viewed groups are less likely to be targeted for additional or tougher demands in policy designs, while the reverse can be true for politically weaker groups (Schneider & Sidney, 2009). For example, traditionally, major landowners and primary industry have powerful positions based on private property rights and economic contributions; while Indigenous and local communities have regularly been displaced and marginalized, also in the name of conservation (Büscher & Fletcher, 2020). To enable legitimate and just deliberations and outcomes, transformative governance requires inclusive representation of interests and groups as well as measures to address trade-offs and uneven power relations between actors (Razzaque et al., 2019). This can be done by ‘empower[ing] those whose interests are currently not being met and represent values embodying transformative change for sustainability’; by integrating new rights, for example by extending rights to nature or to future generations (Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021, p. 22).

Agents are the targeted actors who are assigned authority for developing, implementing and/or steer policy (Schneider & Ingram, 1997). If target group designates those whose environmental-effecting behavior should change (e.g. production and consumption practices), implementing agent identifies those whose job it is to ensure such change. However, sometimes an actor can be characterized in both roles. In current biodiversity governance, key agents are most often environmental agencies. Their capacity to govern is, however, often inadequate (Coffey, 2021) due to lack of funding (Waldron et al., 2013) and the absence of long-term structures (Damiens et al., 2021). The capacity of the state to facilitate societal transformations is also debated (Eckersley, 2021; Eriksen, 2021). For proponents of the state in transformations (see Eckersley, 2021), building governing capacity is central for transformative governance of biodiversity. This includes both to secure sufficient economic resources and top-level political endorsement from within the state apparatus, and to strengthen societal support, legitimacy and social practices through innovative forms of interactive, collaborative, and deliberative governance that involve multiple actors (Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021).

Policies need to rely on an implementation structure to be properly deployed, including resources and incentives for agency compliance (Schneider & Sidney, 2009). To protect biodiversity, governments have a spectrum of policy instruments available, ranging from education and voluntary programs to economic incentives and regulatory requirements. Instrument choices occur in circumstances which often take the current politico-economic system for granted, and may thus favor incremental reform (Hysing & Olsson, 2005). Transformative governance requires a mix of policy instruments that together work over different time frames to structurally address both direct and indirect drivers (Razzaque et al., 2019). While current instruments continue to be necessary, transformative governance entails more ambitious and far-reaching instruments targeting institutional ‘rules of the game’, including often taken for granted structural conditions such as private property rights (Vatn, 2015). Like policy goals, instruments need to be integrated across sectors and institutional levels, as well as be adaptive, i.e. involve processes of iterative learning, reflexivity and adjustment (Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021).

Research design

We use a small-n case study design (Bryman, 2012) to analyze national biodiversity strategies in Australia, France and Sweden (Commonwealth of Australia, 2019; Miljö- och Energidepartementet, 2014; MTES, 2011). These Western democracies are signatories to the CBD and thus subject to similar processes and expectations on developing and reporting NBSAPs. They also have high governance capacity and responsibility to act for biodiversity conservation. However, the countries also have important differences with regards to political systems, public administration traditions, and environmental political ambitions, as summarized in Table 2. For example, Australia’s federal system of government with its division of powers between constitutionally sovereign national and state governments adds a layer of complexity to the development of NBSAP, which is not present in France and Sweden. Investigating three approaches to NBSAP enabled us to explore variation in policy designs for biodiversity, and identify policy design elements in existing strategies supportive of transformative governance. The research team’s experience in terms of language skills and broader contextual understanding of the cases was another important motivation behind case-selection. Biodiversity policy design needs to be context-sensitive (Damiens et al., 2017) and thus findings should not be uncritically implemented as ‘best practice’ across countries, but rather be seen as providing inspiration for policy debates on how to strengthen the transformative potential of the next generation of NBSAPs.

Table 2. Contextual characteristics of the cases.

	Australia	France	Sweden
Political system	Federal	Unitary/EU	Unitary/EU
Public administration tradition^a	Anglo-Saxon	Napoleonic	Scandinavian
Environmental ambitions (exemplified by climate policy) ^b	Not ambitious	Ambitious	Ambitious

^a Painter & Peters, 2010.

^bTobin, 2017.

This desktop-based analysis draws primarily on each country’s biodiversity strategy, at the time of analysis. Previous strategies, reports, and evaluations were also consulted to help make sense of specific elements in the strategies. The documents were analyzed using a qualitative thematic approach (Bryman, 2012) where the themes were theoretically deduced (Table 1). First, each national strategy was closely read and coded by the research team members with the most experience with that country. Quotes from the French case were translated by one of the authors. Second, the findings from each country were reviewed and discussed within the research team, to identify differences and similarities across cases. Finally, drawing on both individual cases and cross-country comparisons, the empirical findings were contrasted against propositions for transformative governance (Table 1), identifying design elements within the strategies potentially supportive of transformative change as well as key elements in need of rethinking.

Table 1. Analytical framework.

Design elements	Indicative questions^a	Transformative governance^b
Problem framing	What are the ‘causes’ of the problem, why should we intervene, and what should be done?	Address direct and indirect drivers; promote structural change
Policy goals	What is to be altered or attained by the policy? What are the aims, objectives, and targets?	Reflect plural values Integrated and nested
Target groups	Which groups are targeted? Who benefits, who is blamed?	Inclusive representation Empowering
Agency	Who is assigned responsibility and authority?	Capacity building, collaboration, and deliberation
Instruments	What are the main instruments used and how do they work together?	Integrative and adaptive policy mixes; targeting policy settings and rules of the game

^a Sources: Schneider and Sidney (2009); Schneider and Ingram (1997, 2019).

^b Sources: Razzaque et al. (2019); Visseren-Hamakers et al. (2021).

Unpacking policy designs

Australia

Australia’s Nature Strategy 2019–2030 (Commonwealth of Australia, 2019) is pitched as a national framework for ‘government, non-government and community action’ (p. 3) on biodiversity, and frames the problem to be addressed in the following way:

If we are to protect our unique places and species, maintain our quality of life, and support our economy over the long term, we must balance sustainable use and development with conservation of biodiversity for current and future generations. (p. 7)

Underpinning this framing is a mix of justifications about why biodiversity is important, primarily encompassing anthropocentric and resource preservation rationales. Intrinsic value is mentioned in several places, although in one place is mentioned in a peculiar way, namely ‘the intrinsic belief that nature is beautiful and has a right to exist’ (p. 6). The importance of biodiversity in terms of cultural identity is also recognized, with it explained that ‘Our epic natural and cultural landscapes, unique wildlife and way of life feature strongly in our sense of identity and underpin our sense of place’ (p. 6).

The policy goals articulated in Australia’s strategy focus on three priority focus areas (or goals) supported by twelve objectives. The goals are intended to work together and reinforce each other. Each objective has several ‘progress measures.’ For example: ‘Promotion of human health benefits from nature-based activities’ is one success measure for objective 1: Encourage Australians to get out into nature (p. 16). No time frames or success measures are attached to these ‘progress measures’. Overall, the objectives are expressed in general terms, with few concrete targets. Appendix A in the strategy proports to show how the strategy aligns with Aichi Targets and the SDGs.

In terms of target groups, the Australian strategy considers biodiversity conservation as a ‘shared responsibility’ … [where] … ‘we must work together’ (p. 8). The strategy also devotes attention to the role of government (sometimes distinguishing between federal, state and territory, and local levels). In terms of business and industry, primary industries and tourism attract most attention. Indigenous people and communities feature prominently in the strategy, with respect of their deep connection to, and knowledge about, Country, and their contribution to biodiversity conservation:

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people play a key role in protecting and managing Australia’s environment and heritage. (p. 15)

While a range of agents can be identified in the strategy, the principal agent identified is ‘government’ because it has a ‘pivotal role to play in delivering the strategy by providing leadership, setting direction, considering emerging information, and by evaluating, reporting and communicating biodiversity-related initiative’ (p. 34). Further, special emphasis is directed to environment ministers and officials (being a federal system of government, Australia has intergovernmental processes which provide a forum for the national and state and territory governments to consider matters of mutual interest), with it stated: ‘Australian environment ministers are committed to working together to lead national efforts for a healthy, resilient nature’ and ‘Officials from environment departments across Australia [will] support environment ministers in their decision-making through the Biodiversity Working Group’ (p. 34). The Biodiversity working group of public officials is responsible for ‘evaluating and reporting on implementation of the strategy to environment ministers every two years’, with publicly available report published every four years (to align with reporting to the CBD) (p. 34).

Australia’s biodiversity strategy is pitched as ‘the overarching framework for all national, state and territory and local strategies, legislation, policies and actions’ (p. 12) so doesn’t contain much detail about particular policy instruments. However, it does signal a shift in focus from relying on a protection-based approach to incorporating adaptation, resilience, and natural resource management in cities, rural and natural environments, on land and at sea. The most prominent instrument mentioned in the strategy is the establishment of a central web-based portal – the Nature Hub – which will be used to ‘to report to environment ministers on the strategy’s implementation, and will help to identify opportunities for targeting priorities’ (p. 34).

France

The French biodiversity strategy 2011–2020 (MTES, 2011) offers a collective vision and a coherent framework for actors to voluntarily mobilize for biodiversity, in addition to existing laws, policies and obligations.

The strategy problematizes the infinite-growth paradigm and challenges the nature/culture dichotomy by framing humanity and the diversity of cultures as part of the biosphere. Humanity is guilty of having ‘in its ignorance, conceit or indifference, thought it could plunder natural resources without restraint, believing them to be limitless’ (p. 7). Its future is framed as conditional on biodiversity conservation:

Wishing the continuity of humanity and the improvement of its wellbeing implies the transmission of the most diverse means to the following generations – in a lucid and responsible manner – in order for them to continue to co-evolve with the other components of the biosphere … Caring for human wellbeing and wanting a flourishing nature belong to the same ambition. (p. 7)

Everyone must take their ‘responsibilities individually and collectively’ to ‘grant a fundamental value to each genetic and cultural memories’ (p. 7), and deploy ‘new economic and social strategies’ that ‘enable the continuous adaptability of the biosphere, in keeping with cultural diversity’ (p. 7).

Largely due to the multi-actor co-construction process used to produce the strategy (cf. Gauthier & Delduc, 2012), diverse rationales co-exist within the strategy. Yet, all remain subjected to the overarching vision of a collective duty and solidarity to reimagine human-nature relations. For example, while utilitarian rationales are present [invoking the ‘services provided by ecosystems’ (p. 13) and biodiversity as a ‘source of new technologies’ (p. 26)], they are negotiated: the ‘economic rationality’ needs to adopt ‘very long-term economic strategies’ that serve biodiversity and human-nature relations; and the ‘ecological capital’ is framed as ‘a common good’, to be preserved and valued (p. 24).

The strategy is structured via three main ambitions, divided into six complementary strategic orientations and twenty goals. It refers to the European Union (EU) 2020 Biodiversity Strategy, the CBD and national engagements for biodiversity. Orientations and goals are thematically ordered to target the corresponding components of the society (e.g. culture, preservation, economy, knowledge). Goals are intentionally broad, providing their vision, examples of actions, relevant actors, and/or instruments to apply, with no quantitative targets or deadlines. All Aichi targets are qualitatively translated as part of these goals.

Because ‘one of the keys to success is the mobilization of the whole society’ (p. 10), the strategy both targets multiple groups, and empowers them as agents. Most of the groups empowered (being explicitly named, framed positively and as deserving support) are historical actors involved in the conservation field (the state, researchers, non-governmental organizations, and citizens) and cultural actors. Regarding the economy, the strategy (explicitly or implicitly) allocates specific responsibilities to the state, investors, consumers, economists, planners and infrastructure and urban developers. It particularly values ‘the structures carrying innovations’, able to ‘reconcile economic and social development with the respect for the environment and biodiversity’ (p. 26). In contrast, most groups working for sectors referred as impactful (e.g. agriculture, fishery, forestry) are not directly named, yet some are targeted by instruments. Other entities and sectors playing roles in both direct and indirect drivers of biodiversity loss (e.g. extraction, finance, insurances, large retailers and trade-related organizations) are not mentioned. With differentiations between communities being avoided in public texts in France, Indigenous communities are not named per se. Yet, the ‘diversity of cultures’ and ‘traditional knowledges of French populations’ are acknowledged (p. 13). Overall, the state carries the largest responsibility as an agent, being framed as the actor (with the United Nations and the EU) able to trigger structural change, because of its capacity to regulate, generate knowledge and distribute benefits and burdens across scales.

The implementation structure of the strategy aims to support the continuation of the co-construction process on a voluntary basis across sectors and scales. All moral entities adhering to the strategy were assigned responsibility for its success. They were to promote it, share their experiences, study the feasibility of an engagement within two years, and submitting it for approval to the National Committee in charge of following up the strategy implementation. Engagements had to be substantial, measurable, and additional to legal obligations. The strategy invokes multiple policy instruments that could be deployed by the diverse targeted groups. Most instruments are reformist. Yet, some can support transformative change if ambitiously implemented (e.g. biodiversity-conditional subsidies, taxation and accounting reforms, ecological infrastructure planning, civil service for biodiversity, and the establishment of a World Environment Organization).

Sweden

The dominant, and explicit, framing of the Swedish strategy (Miljö- och Energidepartementet, 2014) is that:

Biodiversity is a basic prerequisite for the long-term capacity of ecosystems to contribute to human well-being. Ecosystem services are a foundation on which the Swedish economy and welfare are built. (p. 1)

The central argument for making biodiversity a priority is that ‘loss of biodiversity and ecosystem services can lead to major economic costs. Conserving and sustainably utilizing biodiversity is therefore an investment in prosperity’ (p. 1). This framing is clearly anthropocentric with the ecosystem services concept introduced to ‘reveal humans’ dependency on the natural world’ (p. 1). Moreover, integrating the economic values of ecosystem services in decision-making are argued to enable the sustainable use of ecosystems.

In relation to policy goals, the Swedish strategy aligns with Sweden’s system of Environmental Quality Objectives (EQO) which consists of three nested levels of policy goals. The overarching aim of Swedish environmental policy is to

pass over to the next generation a society in which the major environmental problems have been solved, without increasing environmental and health problems beyond Sweden’s borders. (p. 6)

This generational goal is to provide ‘guidance concerning the values that are to be protected and the societal transformation required’ (p. 6) which include for example to ensure ‘the long-term capacity to generate ecosystem services’ and that ‘biodiversity and the natural and cultural environment are conserved, promoted and used sustainably.’

Sixteen EQOs describe the status of the natural environment that the environmental policy strives to achieve, seven of which are considered of significance to biodiversity. The main content of the biodiversity strategy, however, is ten milestone targets, intended to identify societal changes that will help achieve the generational and environmental goals, and associated initiatives. The milestone targets, most of which are time-set and qualitative, are explicitly related to the Aichi targets and the EU 2020 Biodiversity Strategy.

The primary group targeted in the Swedish strategy is businesses whose ‘operations constitute an important basis for economic and environmental development’ (p. 2). It is concluded that businesses’ activities are indirectly or directly depending on ecosystem services; can have detrimental impacts on ecosystems; but also ‘contribute to the preservation of biodiversity and ecosystems’ (p. 2). Although it is ‘desirable that companies take into account their dependence on and impact on ecosystem services in business plans and strategies’ (p. 2) few concrete demands are placed on them. The forestry industry is addressed in several milestone targets and initiatives aimed to further environmental considerations in forestry, including to clarify and make known societal expectations on environmental consideration to the forestry industry, stimulate voluntary set-asides, and open dialogue with actors to further their contribution to a ‘growing bio-based economy’ (p. 9). No explicit reference is given to the indigenous Sami population, with their presence being restricted to limited mention of ‘traditional knowledge’ (p. 2).

State agencies are the agents responsible for driving implementation. Agencies are the only actors explicitly assigned responsibilities in the Swedish strategy, with the Swedish EPA (SEPA) having overall responsibility to coordinate environmental efforts across sectors, while various other semi-autonomous agencies are assigned responsibilities to translate and implement policy goals and initiatives in their policy areas. To be effective, ‘integrated work is essential’ (p. 5), both in terms of integrating biodiversity across policy areas (economy, enterprise, culture), by linking biodiversity to other environmental problems (climate change), and by connecting national and global initiatives.

Work on biodiversity is to be based on a holistic view on the conservation and use of natural resources and requires ‘a combination of various initiatives such as formal and voluntary protection, management, environmentally adapted use, and restoration’ (p. 5). Overall, the strategy includes about 30 policy initiatives, the majority of which have the character of providing the basis for future decisions and implementation (e.g. developing action plans and programs, producing and communicating knowledge). The strategy includes initiatives to protect additional areas as well as conduct legal reviews, but the strategy mostly include non-coercive policy instruments and measures.

Comparative insights

Analyses of individual strategies reveal important similarities and differences across the design elements (Table 3).

Table 3. Similarities and differences.

	Australia	France	Sweden
Framing	Ecosystems services mainly, with focus on economy and culture	Co-existing framings, ethics and bio-culture dominating	Anthropocentric, ecosystem services, with focus on economy
Goals	Nested	Nested	Nested and integrated
Target groups	All Australians, indigenous communities	Multiple actors, although major sectors not targeted	Business, public authorities
Agency	Environment department	Centered on Environment department, collective responsibility	State agencies across policy areas
Instruments	Informative	Participatory, voluntary-based, additional to existing legal obligations	Concrete measures, supportive/future-oriented

The strategies frame biodiversity differently. By primarily framing biodiversity conservation as an eco-modernization and a green growth opportunity respectively, Sweden and Australia narrow the biodiversity action to the sectors that could benefit from biodiversity conservation, and marginalize propositions targeting the much broader set of sectors having an indirect impact on biodiversity loss (although Australia does give some attention to cultural importance of biodiversity) (cf. Pisupati & Prip, 2015). By contrast, the framing of conservation as an ethical responsibility and duty in France, the explicit problematization of some indirect drivers and the inclusion of negotiated narratives, are opening for more transformative imaginaries. Yet, with all elements being considered, the three designs situate the strategies within current political-economic structures, and frame biodiversity largely as a problem that can be addressed by incremental and moderate changes.

All three strategies connect biodiversity objectives and targets to more overarching societal goals/visions such as economic growth, human well-being, cultural identity, and way of life. Highly ambitious goals were, however, not supported by concrete objectives or measurable targets. While a feature of all three cases, Sweden has the most developed system of nested policy goals – from the overarching generational goal to time-set targets and implementation measures. In contrast, Australia’s strategy with its non-binding and non-time bound vision, goals, and targets and scant coverage of implementation seems to be more crafted to manage public expectations than about effective biodiversity governance (cf. Blühdorn, 2007; Newig, 2007). International commitments are clearly integrated in the Swedish and French strategies, while coverage of such commitments is less prominent, although still mentioned, in Australia’s strategy (cf. Christoff, 1998). Australia’s federal system of government also makes vertical integration challenging.

The strategies generally attach responsibility to change behavior broadly in society rather than pointing out specific target groups assigned benefits or burdens. This is especially visible in the Australian strategy which encourages every Australian to participate in nature conservation and connection with nature but imposes few if any actual requirements (whether government, business, or the general community). In Sweden and France, business is targeted but in a particular way. Rather than framed as having detrimental effects on biodiversity (and thus should be made accountable) targeted business sectors are constructed in a positive light, seen as part of the solution (as suppliers of ecosystem services or investors in ecological capital). The silences around major sectors participating in direct and indirect drivers of biodiversity loss within the strategies may also signal the presence of anticipatory feedback strategies to avoid opposition from powerful groups if these were named or imposed burdens on (Schneider & Ingram, 2019). Each strategy implies different positionalities with regards to biocultural diversity and indigenous rights. In previous research, indigenous-led conservation has been identified as an important governance innovation to successfully implement NBSAPs (Ray et al., 2021). Reflecting intense public debates on the matter, the Australian strategy at least to some degree engages with the role (and rights) of the indigenous peoples in biodiversity governance. The French strategy problematizes the loss of biocultural heritage yet does not clearly identify actors and instruments to nurture this heritage. In Sweden, the indigenous Sami population is not included in the strategy which support the conclusion by SEPA and Sami Parliament (2018) that traditional knowledge needs to be further valued, respected, and regarded as useful and necessary in biodiversity governance.

In terms of agency, consistent with Sarkki et al. (2016), responsibilities are mainly attached to environmental ministers, departments, and agencies even though the importance of integrating biodiversity policies across sectors and levels are recognized in the NBSAPs. Confirming previous studies (Whitehorn et al., 2019), mainstreaming remains challenging, even within the designs of the policy. Some progress can be noted, such as the integration of biodiversity concerns in infrastructure, urban development and planning in France; and the presence of strongly institutionalized norms of sectoral environmental responsibility in Sweden, with the Swedish strategy assigning responsibility across state agencies. The French strategy is also noteworthy for its efforts to promote democratic participation and pluralist negotiations, although this did not translate into sufficiently binding responsibilities (Barbut et al., 2020).

Ambitious goals are not matched by ambitious actions. The studied strategies employ a mix of policy instruments but they largely remain non-coercive, and/or fail to include concrete actions to address indirect drivers of biodiversity loss such as production and consumption patterns (Razzaque et al., 2019). This confirms previous work which highlights that strategies often focus on government agencies, with less efforts to involve other actors (Pisupati & Prip, 2015). Even though the strategies are subject to the CBD reporting systems as well as national assessments, few to no instruments are in place to ensure that lessons learnt are systematically used to adapt the strategies.

Discussion: how to ‘ratchet up’ future national biodiversity strategies

The analysis of policy designs of the Australian, French, and Swedish NBSAPs shows that none of the strategies represent a model to be entirely embraced, but all strategies include elements that can provide valuable inspiration and lessons when designing transformative NBSAPs.

First, biodiversity strategies must target the indirect drivers of biodiversity loss, including social, political-economic, and technological structures supporting unsustainable practices (IPBES, 2019). In current strategies, biodiversity governance is clearly situated in and continues to support, rather than challenge established structures. The French strategy can, however, offer inspiration for its broader framing of biodiversity as an issue of ethics and solidary which embrace notions of humans as being responsible for recomposing human-nature relations, rather than just beneficiaries of nature; a framing that is explicit in the ecosystem services concept as harnessed in the Swedish and Australian strategies. The ecosystem services concept may support incremental and moderate changes, but its capacity to generate transformative changes in priorities or in the way natural resources are managed has been questioned (Hysing & Lidskog, 2021).

Second, strategies need to be designed to address biodiversity mainstreaming in concrete ways. In all three cases, biodiversity governance remains the primary responsibility of environmental departments and agencies, while authority to address direct and indirect drivers remains in other public and private sectors. Sweden provides example of a design in which biodiversity goals and targets are nested and integrated by being formally made part of the responsibilities of state agencies on different levels and sectors. Institutionalizing such sectoral responsibility is an important step of mainstreaming, but biodiversity goals also need to be given priority within non-environmental sectors and be accompanied with resources, authority, and top-level government endorsement (cf. Jordan & Lenschow, 2010). Moreover, evaluations of the Swedish environmental objectives, including the stated aims of the biodiversity strategy, have shown that the goals have not been reached within desired timeframes (2020) (SEPA, 2019). This illustrates that ambitious and time-set policy goals require not only a careful monitoring of the implementation, but also a (political) readiness to make necessary adaptations of measures to meet these objectives.

Third, strategies need to unpack and shift the power relations shaping biodiversity loss and conservation. Openly recognizing the necessity of structural changes to tackle direct and indirect drivers in the next NBSAPs would be an important first step. Yet, transformative change will also require real and active political leadership. Resistance is to be expected from powerful or disadvantaged groups and/or agents opposing changes in authority, resource distribution, and values (Bulkeley et al., 2020; Razzaque et al., 2019). The difficulty to obtain political leadership and overcoming structural resistances, is illustrated by the resignation of the French Minister for biodiversity over disagreement within the government on the speed and scale of environmental reforms necessary and the influence of lobby groups on public decision-making (Pasqualini, 2018). Recognizing that policy making ‘takes place in political contexts that are structurally unjust and communicatively distorted’ (Eckersley, 2021, p. 256), actively countering attempts of advantaged groups to (re)capture policy, and empowering targeted groups and agents promoting sustainability to build a constituency caring for biodiversity, are necessary to bring about transformative change (Rosenbloom et al., 2019; Visseren-Hamakers et al., 2021). The advance of populist movements such as the Yellow Vests in France also warns against conducting environmental reforms without deliberation and just redistribution measures, targeting notably disadvantaged groups negatively affected by policy changes (Driscoll, 2021).

Fourth, strategies need to enable a plurality of voices and knowledge systems to engage in inclusive, fair, and meaningful deliberative process over biodiversity governance. The French co-construction process of the current strategy provided a valuable exercise to participate in mainstreaming biodiversity across the society, with networks across sectors being fostered, collective narratives negotiated, and bolder imaginaries unlocked. Yet, this exercise remained limited, in the absence of major actors at the negotiation table, and of a sufficient implementation structure to keep the momentum as the strategy was deployed (Barbut et al., 2020). Australia’s consideration of indigenous communities, knowledges and cultures in the biodiversity strategy provides important lessons for future strategies, including the pitfalls associated with tokenistic efforts (e.g. efforts which may deflect attention from other actors). Importantly, governance arrangements fostering better engagement and participation; respect and embracement of Indigenous rights and knowledge and Indigenous-led governance are also needed ‘to realize the aspirations of Indigenous peoples for improved land and sea management that strengthens people, culture and Country’ (Goolmeer et al., 2022, p. 33).

Finally, strategies need to secure governance capacity to make biodiversity conservation a societal norm rather than an option. In all cases, inadequate implementation is a key constraint. The Swedish EPA concludes that necessary policy instruments are either not in place or not being applied (SEPA, 2019), while an independent Australian government report showed that ‘current investment in biodiversity management are not keeping pace with the scale and magnitude of current pressures’ (Cresswell & Murphy, 2017, p.v). In France, an assessment of the strategy concluded that stronger resource allocation, further reliance on constraining measures, an exemplary state and an improved governance were needed to better enforce the strategy (Barbut et al., 2020). The studied strategies also invoke a mix of policy instruments, with an overall preference for non-coercive and voluntary ones. This may limit negative feedback from powerful groups (Jordan & Matt, 2014) and contribute to incrementally changing societal values. Yet, it offers little potential for feed-forward changes so that taking responsibility for direct or indirect impacts on biodiversity loss becomes the societal norm, expected to be adhered by all, rather than an option pursued by the environmentally minded. Transformative governance for biodiversity requires changing ‘the rules of the game’, with NBSAPs addressing fundamental questions about people's rights and responsibilities with respect to the Earth system, biocultural diversity, and disadvantaged groups. A relevant step forward could be to ensure that rights to nature mirror responsibility for nature in individual and collective property rights (Vatn, 2015). Yet, discussions must be explicitly extended to ‘who or what should be recognized as having rights and/or be entitled to political representation, to whom decision-makers should be accountable, and over what spatial time horizons’ (Eckersley, 2020, p. 219). Such discussions and institutionalization – notably via NBSAPs – are important not only for their direct (legal) effects, but also the signals they send about what imaginaries, systems of governance and practices can be considered as thinkable, appropriate or acceptable in society.

Conclusions

Drawing on theories of policy design, and a comparative study of NBSAPs in Australia, France and Sweden, we show how the CBD Plan for Biodiversity has been translated into contrasting strategies, deploying diverse visions with different possible performative effects. Our analysis identifies existing elements that can be used to support transformative governance of biodiversity, as well as key elements in need of novel and fundamental redesign in order to target both direct and indirect drivers of biodiversity loss, anticipate negative feedback, and counter the feed-forward effects limiting mainstreaming and structural changes. This research shows how the policy design approach can contribute to the literature on conservation policy, transformative change and the various principle-level advice on governance they offer. Indeed, we show how the policy design perspective can help unpack actual policies, identifying their constitutive elements and further critical studies of their feed-forward effects that not only shape policy but also democratic politics (Schneider & Ingram, 1997) and thus exert influence on broader transformations. This research also shows how cross-country comparisons of policy designs can help shed light on strengths and weaknesses in NBSAPs but also how they can provide inspiration for rethinking taken-for-granted truths about possible and suitable elements for engaging in transformative governance.

Acknowledgements

BC, FLPD and NT acknowledge the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nations as the traditional owners of the land on which RMIT University stands, and respectfully recognize Elders both past and present. We wish to thank the participant at the panel on anticipatory policy design for addressing sustainability challenges at the 5th International Conference on Public Policy (Barcelona, July 6–8, 2021) for helpful comments on an earlier version of this article. We also gratefully acknowledge the very constructive and insightful comments of two anonymous referees and the editors of Journal of Environmental Policy & Planning. Authors are listed in alphabetic order. Conceptualization: NT, BC (original idea); Investigation, Analysis: BC, NT (Australia), FLPD (France), EH (Sweden); Theoretical framework, Methodology: EH (lead), FLPD (supporting); Project management, Presentation: NT; Funding acquisition: EH; Writing – original draft: EH, BC, FLPD, NT (equal); Writing – review and editing: EH, FLPD (lead), BC, NT (supporting).

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Data availability statement

The texts analyzed in this paper are referenced, and publicly available online.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by the Swedish Research Council Formas [grant number 2017-01080].

Notes on contributors

Brian Coffey

Brian Coffey is a Lecturer in Sustainability and Urban Planning at RMIT University, Australia.

Florence L. P. Damiens

Florence L. P. Damiens is a PhD candidate in the Centre for Urban Studies at RMIT University, Australia.

Erik Hysing

Erik Hysing is Associate Professor in Political Science at Örebro University, Sweden.

Nooshin Torabi

Nooshin Torabi is a Lecturer in Sustainability and Urban Planning at RMIT University, Australia.