Geoffrey Cousins’ timely input into the Tasmanian pulp mill debate has brought new hope to the island state’s anti-pulp mill army, which was suffering a form of melancholic inaction as approval of the $1.9 billion project seemed inevitable.

With both houses of the Tasmanian Parliament and the relevant federal department lined up to support the mill, a local media weakened by constant bullying and niggling from government and other pro-mill groups, and legal action – begun in late 2004 by Gunns Ltd just before it announced its proposal for the pulp mill – still hanging over many of the state’s most vocal environmentalists, Cousins and his celebrity pulling power has finally taken the conflict to where those wanting to stop the mill might possibly win – somewhere other than Tasmania.

But history shows that the involvement of the well-known outsider in environmental conflict in Tasmania can be a complex – if not downright dangerous – affair, and Cousins should take note of lessons delivered to his predecessors in earlier campaigns if his involvement is to have real and meaningful political impact.

One of the first to come unstuck was Milo Dunphy, son of the famed national parks campaigner Myles, who found himself labelled a “crazed communist extremist” by local media when he addressed a public meeting in Tasmania against the flooding of Lake Pedder in the early 1970s.

A decade later, during the Franklin dam campaign, UK celebrity botanist Professor David Bellamy’s initial involvement had enormous media impact, helping to legitimise the anti-dam case. But any scientific credibility disappeared with his brief comment to the media that he was in Tasmania to “attract world-wide attention” and to do what he was told “for once in his life”.

“Whatever Bob Brown tells me to do, I’ll do it,” he said.

By cheerfully valuing his notoriety above his scientific credentials, Bellamy became little more than a publicity stunt and the media generally treated his involvement as such for the rest of his stay.

More recently, as celebrity has become a news ingredient in itself in much of the Australian news media, neither scientific nor business credentials have been required for well-known outsiders to get involved in environmental campaigning.

However, this exposes the singers, soapie stars and other entertainers to a greater level of criticism from pro-industry groups when they enter bitter Tasmanian conflicts. This criticism generally takes two forms.

The first denies the right of the celebrities to be involved – for example, “What does Olivia Newton-John know about Tasmania?”

The second is more personal. When Jimmy Barnes sang from the treetops at the Styx Valley Global Rescue Station in 2004, it is unlikely he was expecting the next day’s headline to read “Working Class Traitor”.

Environmental campaigns in Tasmania need well-known outsiders. They provide cheap access into the news, helping to counter the massive advertising and public relations campaigns increasingly well-financed by government and pro-industry groups.

When that outsider is known for more than being well-known, has access to the heart of political power, and has legitimate interest in the debate, as is the case with Cousins, then there is the chance that this involvement will make a difference.

But if he is tempted to appear too close to environmentalists, if he speaks outside his area of expertise, and if he associates too closely with singers, film-makers and other entertainers who have no legitimate claim to input into the Tasmanian decision, the lesson of history is clear. No impact.

Dr Libby Lester is coordinator of the Journalism, Media and Communications Program at the University of Tasmania and author of Giving Ground: Media and Environmental Conflict in Tasmania (Quintus, 2007).