Traditional Māori knowledge has a new role to play as New Zealand recovers from the effects of Covid-19 (Getty Images).

ĀteaJune 9, 2020

Awakening the taniwha: Unleashing community potential from the rubble of Covid-19

Guest writer

Traditional Māori knowledge has a new role to play as New Zealand recovers from the effects of Covid-19 (Getty Images).

Covid-19 has reset our understanding of the world. From this crisis comes opportunity, and University of Otago professor Merata Kawharu (Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi) believes it’s a chance to apply traditional principles to our new normal.

In a really short time, we have become attuned to doing things very differently. In just a few months, Covid-19 has come to dominate just about every facet of our existence. We’ve had to adjust.

But we do not have to sit and wait for the next instructions on what we can and cannot do. Now is the time to reimagine a future we want to see on human and environmental levels, and from new standpoints. Coping with uncertainty is a big issue on people’s minds, but it is precisely the unknown future that provides seedbeds for creating new opportunity.

Of course, we must acknowledge the hardships, often severe, that families are now facing. For some, these are completely destabilising. But from a Māori community perspective, smart thinking from the ground up is where we can, and should, begin to help our own and help others.

The cry from Māori communities is simply this: who is looking to harness the opportunity to create new jobs and to look after Papatūānuku in ways not yet imagined? What if solutions to this human crisis, the economic crisis and the pre-pandemic environmental crisis – are actually already here, but they are not yet being realised? And what if the taniwha – the metaphorical guardian – who has lain dormant is again stirring because of crisis?

Imagine if the taniwha awoke to kick-start an old-world approach where our ancestral values support today’s rangatira (leaders) and pōtiki (entrepreneurs) – who can unify community strength and who can create something transformational for that community. If we are to utilise this energy, other communities and our nation can be strengthened too. Here I am talking about developing community enterprise that is culturally based, environmentally sensitive and economically smart, and all of this within the frame of kaitiakitanga or collective guardianship and innovation.

Activating kaitiakitanga also means thinking about other traditional values that may guide innovation. There is mana or ideas of authority, perspective, security and positioning. There is manaakitanga, or ideas about care and consideration of people’s needs. The combination of these things will see oranga, or health and wellbeing, returned, revived and revitalised.

I am not talking about returning to the “business as usual” we knew prior to Covid-19. The unusualness of now is already seeing an improvement in our environment and a decline in carbon emissions, but these outcomes should be deliberate rather than by accident. By taking advantage of our unexpected global reset, marae communities can regain the initiative by designing their own development agenda.

We were told that the best thing to do to manage this ngangara, this virus, is to stamp it out as best we can. This meant hard, fast, drastic action. The same applies to developing solutions: tackling the challenges we face, being fearless yet careful, calculated yet courageous.

Unleashing the taniwha means unlocking the potential of marae lands. The opportunity of transforming ancestral lands into gardens of taonga (heirloom) species and their kōrero (stories) is immense. And it’s much more than just developing local economies. It means providing much-needed food to their people as well as the wider public, near and far.

Growing gardens is hardly new though. We need to also revive other food sources in our awa and forests, clean up waterways and restore the health of native forests by repairing the damage wrought by possums, invasive weeds and diseases so that foods and rongoā (medicine) can re-enter the economy. It is also about building a circular economy between the home marae people, their descendant consumers and the wider public, who are encouraged to return food scraps and labour and so support marae.

At its heart is building jobs among a hapū community right the way through the value chain, reconnecting people to kāinga, kai and culture. Imagine building enterprises associated with the geographic uniqueness of marae-centred gardens, like community kitchens, like processing and warehousing hubs, like associated heritage centres and tourism sites that offer real “life” experiences. There might also be kai kitchen coffees, maybe even locally grown coffee or tea, taking advantage of the climate shifts now affecting New Zealand.

The entrepreneurial gardens of Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei’s Ko Te Pūkaki’, and Northland communities in Whirinaki and Tautoro (among others), are engaging in pā-to-plate enterprises that connect foods and resources from home marae with descendants living locally and in towns and cities. They show us what is possible, but also unrealised for now.

Unleashing the taniwha could revive and develop new maramataka or calendars based on traditional te ao Māori knowledge of seasons and patterns of growth and potentially enable new or hybrid food species to enter our food chain. Then there are the untapped local energy resources that we have not yet even started thinking about. These could assist marae communities to become catchment centres of energy production and distribution that are environmentally and culturally accountable.

Covid-19 has shown to humanity everywhere that community cohesion and connection are vitally important. This means supporting “the local” authentically, not tokenistically. We need to support communities and their leaders to design novel investment platforms from their lands for intergenerational benefit. These platforms will then connect those who are still living locally and support those who have left for the cities one or more generations ago.

Treasury tells us that the extreme uncertainties of the future mean that “economic forecasting becomes less about predicting likely outcomes, and more about illustrating salient possibilities”. The role of comprehensive marae community development must be factored into this picture.

Then the taniwha can rest again until the next time it awakens to confront challenges of the future.

This content was created in paid partnership with the University of Otago. Learn more about our partnerships here.

Wellington protesters at a rally in July 2019 against Oranga Tamariki’s removal of Māori children from whānau (Photo: RNZ/Ana Tovey)

OPINIONĀteaJune 9, 2020

A former Oranga Tamariki employee on why change must start at the top

Luke Fitzmaurice-Brown

Guest writer

Wellington protesters at a rally in July 2019 against Oranga Tamariki’s removal of Māori children from whānau (Photo: RNZ/Ana Tovey)

A Children’s Commission report released this week shows that entrenched attitudes at Oranga Tamariki are still endangering whānau Māori. This is what colonisation looks like, writes former Oranga Tamariki employee Luke Fitzmaurice.

Children’s Commissioner Judge Andrew Becroft yesterday released the first of two reports into the removal of Māori babies by the Ministry for Children – Oranga Tamariki. The report is one of four launched in response to the attempted removal of a baby in Hawke’s Bay last May, which received widespread media attention. The report from the Children’s Commissioner confirms what many people already knew: the Hawke’s Bay case was not an isolated incident. It makes one thing clear, once and for all: the time for change is now, and change must start from the top.

For those unfamiliar with statutory child protection in New Zealand, the Children’s Commission report makes for horrific reading. The report outlines dozens of stories of intimidation, coercion and racism towards Māori mothers. One mother described the anguish of having her baby removed just moments after giving birth, without having the opportunity to even hug her child. Another mother described feeling that social workers were just waiting for her to relapse into drug use so they could then remove her baby. In perhaps the most horrific story within the report, one mother said she was pressured to have an abortion by her social worker, who warned that if she went through with the pregnancy, she would be at risk of losing both her newborn baby and her other children.

In case it wasn’t obvious, this is what colonisation looks like. The report found that Māori babies were five times more likely to be removed from their families than non-Māori babies. It highlighted “substantial and persistent” inequities for Māori compared to non-Māori. This is the latest milestone in a long history of state violence towards whānau Māori.

Make no mistake, some sort of intervention would have been warranted in many of these cases. Becroft said as much in an interview on the AM Show, stating that in most cases the mothers themselves knew they needed help. Children at risk of suffering violence need to be protected, their safety is always crucial. But how that safety is ensured is also crucial. At present, actions taken by the state in the name of protecting children cause severe harm to whānau, communities and iwi Māori. In many cases, the children themselves are no better off; data released last year shows that children in state care fare worse in every area of their wellbeing compared to children who are not in care.

So what are those at the top saying in response? So far, not much. Radio New Zealand reported that both Oranga Tamariki CEO Grainne Moss and minister for children Tracey Martin refused to be interviewed about the report this morning. But a pre-prepared statement from Moss is revealing. She took aim at Children’s Commissioner Judge Andrew Becroft, criticising the report for its focus on the experiences of mothers when, according to Moss, Becroft’s role “is to support and advocate for the welfare of children”. This is illuminating, as it reveals that Moss sees those two things as separate. In fact, the wellbeing of tamariki Māori is deeply connected to the wellbeing of their whānau. To view the two in isolation is to perpetuate the problem that Oranga Tamariki was created to solve. Ignoring the connections between tamariki and whānau is a form of recolonisation that will cause further damage to Māori communities.

The saddest thing for me when I read this report was that all of the stories felt familiar. I worked at Oranga Tamariki (and Child, Youth and Family before that) for six years. I worked there because, although I knew that the organisation had its flaws, I believed the problems could be addressed if there were enough people working within the system who believed in the kaupapa. I no longer believe that. The sheer volume of these stories, the deep-rooted, intergenerational nature of these problems, and the shameful response from both the CEO and the minister, have led me to believe that change will no longer come from within.

As a nation, we need to do better for these whānau, or we will further entrench the massive problems we already face. That change needs to start today, and it needs to start from the top.

Luke Fitzmaurice (Te Aupōuri) is a former Oranga Tamariki employee and current PhD candidate at Otago University studying child protection, children’s rights and decolonisation.