Thompson-Fawcett’s work is helping to indigenise urban planning (Image: Getty; additional design: Archi Banal)

ĀteaJune 22, 2023

Meet the woman putting culture at the heart of urban planning

Ātea editor

Thompson-Fawcett’s work is helping to indigenise urban planning (Image: Getty; additional design: Archi Banal)

Professor Michelle Thompson-Fawcett has focused her career on extending the decolonisation conversation into the processes of urban planning. Now, she’s been appointed to Poutoko Taiea at the University of Otago.

Entwining Indigenous knowledge, histories, values, and presence into the settler-colonial cities of Aotearoa New Zealand is at the heart of what Professor Michelle Thompson-Fawcett (Ngāti Whātua) does. It was her early life in South and Central Auckland, particularly events surrounding Takaparawhau, and the 506-day occupation of land overlooking Auckland’s Waitematā Harbour in the late 1970s, that laid the foundation for her career.

“I was a school child living less than 2km away from all this activity as it took place. It epitomised the fraught, enduring, haunting history of the land around the Ōrākei/Ōkahu Bay area, telling a damning story about how the ‘City of Auckland’ was fashioned, and has been reproduced ever since,” says Thompson-Fawcett.

“It seemed to me that the ongoing politics of place, and power injustices linked to the control of space were among the most important issues you could seek to unveil and repair in our society,” Thompson-Fawcett says.

Exposure to this large-scale Indigenous-led protest movement in New Zealand’s largest city grew Thompson-Fawcett’s understanding of the importance of place in the maintenance of Māori identity in urban areas. Revealing the power relations evident in the practices surrounding design and space, and then envisioning transformation that facilitates Māori aspirations of decolonisation and tino rangatiratanga in this space is what she’s dedicated her time to since.

“For me, Indigenous-led urban planning and development means working towards a built environment that activates Indigenous knowledge and practices, acknowledges the unique histories and presence of Indigenous peoples in locations that are now urban spaces, and respects the relationships between people, land, and communities,” she says.

Silo Park on Auckland’s Waterfront (Photo: Supplied)

Today, Indigenous futurity is at the heart of Thompson-Fawcett’s work. Keeping herself busy, the professor in the School of Geography is also currently the associate dean (Māori) in the Division of Humanities, and leader of the Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga “Toitū he Kāinga: Healthy Environmental Relationships in Urban Settings” research programme.

“The built environment is not just about physical spaces, it’s also about cultural spaces, and we need to create places that allow for the expression of Māori culture,” Thompson-Fawcett says “for example, urban environments that enable our rangatahi to speak their language, practise their tikanga, and be Māori in the city.”

Acknowledging the troubled past and present of Aotearoa New Zealand, Thompson-Fawcett believes that Indigenous-led urban planning and design has the potential to play a part in healing that trauma by honouring Indigenous identities, explaining: “I’m talking about embracing Indigenous aspirations from the past, present and future, and really envisioning how we can create opportunities that celebrate Indigenous cultures and histories, and weave them into the fabric of our cities.”

Recent work by Indigenous designers and planners has been delivering places in urban areas “where Indigenous people can see themselves, their narratives, and recognise they belong,” she says. The Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland rail system is one example. The redevelopment of the City’s railway stations incorporates te ao Māori in the design. Using culturally significant, locationally-specific themes connected to movement by waka, navigation via stars, the flow of waterways, local volcanic māunga and more, the new development reflects the journey of those travelling through the city.

In 2018 Professor Michelle Thompson-Fawcett received a Sustained Excellence award in the Kaupapa Māori category (Image: supplied).

Another example is the progress taking place in the city of Ōtautahi Christchurch, in response to post-earthquake reconstruction of the central area. The redevelopment of Te Papa Ōtākaro/the Avon River Precinct demonstrates the centrality of the river to both Māori and subsequent settlers. Building on the Indigenous values of the river as a food source has been a major focus. A reinvigorated two kilometre stretch of the waterway and its banks now incorporates an integrated cultural narrative along this shared public space.

“Such achievements signpost the many ways that the wellbeing of Indigenous peoples in colonised locations might be envisaged as part of urban design, planning, decision-taking and governance processes.”

She believes that real change requires education as well as advocacy, and her role as poutoko taiea at the University of Otago allows her to work with students who are up and coming urban and planning professionals and leaders. “It was the potential of teaching a decolonising and indigenising ethic that placed me in the University,” Thompson-Fawcett says. She stresses the need for urban and planning professionals to understand the history of colonisation in Aotearoa New Zealand and recognise the critical importance of the role of tangata whenua in decision-making processes.

“When you’re teaching students who are going to be city makers, it’s really important that they understand the context of Aotearoa, they understand the histories of colonisation, and they understand the importance of working in partnership with Māori and having a really strong, committed and ethical practice around that,” she says.

Thompson-Fawcett’s work has made significant contributions to indigenous-led urban planning and decolonisation in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her experiences growing up in South and Central Auckland and working with iwi and hapū inspired a commitment to incorporating Indigenous values in urban planning, one which she is passing on to those entering the field.

Through her various roles, Thompson-Fawcett is inspiring urban planning professionals to recognise the importance of Indigenous-led planning and design, and weaving Indigenous knowledge, histories, values and presence into the fabric of our cities.

Keep going!

Kuranui waka, ready for its helicopter ride (Photo: Te Kaahui o Rauru)

ĀteaJune 20, 2023

The incredible recovery of a Taranaki waka, brought to light after 150 years

Airana Ngarewa

Contributing writer

Kuranui waka, ready for its helicopter ride (Photo: Te Kaahui o Rauru)

The remains of a waka connected to a significant conflict in the New Zealand Wars, which lay hidden in the Pātea River for more than 150 years, have been recovered. Airana Ngarewa was there.

A waka believed to be at least 154 years old has been discovered and recovered in the Pātea River in Taranaki. What remains of the waka, one-half to two-thirds of its hull, rested on a bend in the river. Seven to eight metres in length and estimated to be anywhere between 300 and 500kg, the waka was found by chance.

Local iwi gather at the recovery site; Airana Ngarewa with the waka on the banks of the Pātea River (Photos: Te Kaahui o Rauru; supplied)

After 20 dead eels had washed ashore at Pātea Beach towards the end of May, Manawa Energy, which owns the Pātea hydroelectric scheme further up the river, had commissioned two contractors, Bart Jansma of Riverwise Consulting and Andrew Briggs of 4sight, to monitor the health of eels in the river. It is on this journey that something like a waka was first spotted and iwi were notified. In the end, it was my own father, Darren Ngarewa, an iwi historian, who verified it was indeed a waka, removing the mud on its surface and determining by the red colour underneath that it was made from tōtara. Because of its make, the area where it was found, the adze marks on the hull and the lashing holes, it is believed to be at least 154 years old.

four people on a river bank, digging a waka out of mud — The waka was secured before being dug out of the mud on the banks of the Pātea River (Photo: Te Kaahui o Rauru)

That was the last time this area was occupied by Māori. After the conclusion of Tītokowaru’s campaign against the Crown in 1869, many members of Te Pakakohi, Ngāti Ruanui and Ngā Rauru took refuge at Kuranui Pā, an area that could only be accessed by the river. The colonial forces pursued this group and on June 13 of the same year, despite the warning by resident magistrate James Booth that he could not enforce a surrender, Major Noake approached the pā by canoe. When the colonial forces landed, the men of Kuranui raised their guns but Ngawaka Taurua, one of three chiefs occupying the pā, laid his down at his feet and his men followed suit. One hundred and twenty three men, women and children, everyone at Kuranui except a few who had managed to flee, was arrested and on the following day, in 17 of their own waka, they made their way down the Pātea River where Ngawaka would again be responsible for negotiating the surrender of others who were implicated in fighting alongside Tītokowaru. The men, recorded as Te Pakakohi, were later sent to Wellington where 74 were convicted to be hanged and quartered for being in open rebellion against the Crown, the sentence later being reduced to between three and seven years of hard labour in Otago. As a result of the conditions they were kept in and the labour they were made to complete, 18 of the men would die there from a variety of diseases.

Two side by side photos, the first of a helicopter with a waka secured underneath, the second a close-up of the waka hanging from ropes — After being dug out of the mud, the waka was airlifted by helicopter to a nearby track (Photo: Airana Ngarewa)

Given the make and the proximity of the discovered waka to Kuranui Pā, only metres from one of its banks over a narrow part of the river, it seems likely that this is its origin, perhaps left behind by those of Kuranui after their arrest or destroyed by the colonial forces. The scorched earth policy originally implemented in the area by General Chute meant anything seen to be useful to Māori would be destroyed including kāinga and crops, a policy that led directly to Tītokowaru’s campaign against the Crown.

The name Kuranui is said to be a reference to a species of moa that was once abundant in the area. In wānanga, the night before the recovery, this was the name given to the waka, acknowledging its connection to Kuranui Pā and referencing the waka as a great treasure to all who whakapapa to the men, women and children who were arrested there.

The waka is secured to a trailer to be taken to a secure location to be preserved (Photo: Airana Ngarewa)

One hundred and fifty four years later to the day the men, women and children of Kuranui departed the papakāinga in their 17 waka, the waka Kuranui was removed from the bank. The waka was first secured, dug out of the mud, and then placed onto a cradle where it would then be lifted onto a nearby track by helicopter. Suzanne Rawson of Heritage Preservation Field Support Solutions, who helped lead the recovery alongside iwi, the Pātea Historical Society and Manatū Taonga, reported that this is the first time a waka of this era has been airlifted by a helicopter. From there, Kuranui was placed on a trailer and taken to a secure location to be placed in a large tank of water to be preserved. Given the size of the waka, the preservation process is anticipated to take two to three years.

All those involved on the day of the recovery, around 50 people in total, hope that when the time is right the waka Kuranui will return to Pātea where it can stand as a memorial to all those who lived, loved and laid down their guns at Kuranui Pā.

This is Public Interest Journalism funded through NZ On Air.