Henrik MollerTitle:
“Co-management of a bicultural research project? A research provider’s
perspective”
Te
Tari o Whakäro Kararehe Zoology
Department, Te Whare Wänanga o Otägo University
of Otago, PO Box 56, Dunedin Email: Henrik.moller@stonebow.otago.ac.nz |
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Talk
Henrik Moller is a co-principle investigator of the Kia Mau Te Titi Mo
Ake Tönu Atu research project and a co-organiser of this hui. He teaches wildlife management at the
University of Otago's Zoology Department.
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AbstractIn
1994 Rakiura Mäori invited the University of Otago to assess the
sustainability of their traditional harvest of tïtï (Puffinus griseus, sooty shearwaters, ‘muttonbirds’). The University’s research team was
predominantly Päkehä and inexperienced in Mäoritanga and Te Reo. Although we expected to encounter cultural
differences, we often hit these walls without seeing them first, mostly due
to our ignorance of tikanga. In
making mistakes we brought added pressures to a group of passionate,
overburdened kaitiaki of the tïtï. We got under the feet of tired
muttonbirders working around the clock on their manu. We were privileged but demanding guests,
outsiders looking in on an intensely Mäori and private activity that connected
the birders to their tupuna, each other and their turangawaewae (place to
stand). We
hit opposition from some sections of the Rakiura Mäori community, no doubt in
part because of the history of broken promises and lack of true partnership
in science and conservation. A
community-consensus driven society gives free opportunity for dissenters to
voice their concerns. We also struck
scepticism, cynicism and downright prejudice from some quarters of Päkehä
society. It was hard to stay
confident and not feel as if we were “walking on glass”. Guidance
from a Kaupapa Atawhai manager and a committed muttonbirder got us in contact
with the manawhenua. Guarded trust
from the kaitiaki allowed the first steps and the support of key kaumätua
made it possible to continue through our initial blundering learning
phase. A “cultural safety contract”
helped until our actions could begin to testify to our good faith. Now, six years on, growing trust and aroha
makes this the most rewarding research project I have ever been involved
in. Overall understanding continues
to grow between the research team and the kaitiaki for the study (the Rakiura
Tïtï Islands Committee) and the community at large. We realise that some people on both sides of the cultural
divide still mistrust us and the process we are engaged in, or they fear the
outcomes of the research. But there are now three steps forward for every two
back. A substantive grant from FRST
provided the financial capacity to attempt to solve a complex ecological problem
- determination of whether the tïtï harvest is sustainable or not. The
warmth and hospitality of birders on their manu has made us feel welcome,
providing crucial emotional support beyond the politics. The research team shares excitement with
the birders as we find out more about these amazing birds. Our “scientific tupuna” have passed down
the tools that, alongside and with the help of Mätauranga, will allow us to
achieve the community’s goals. We
stand proud of the contribution that science can make to a partnership
dedicated to ensuring that tïtï remain abundant for Rakiura Mäori mokopuna.
We marvel at the detail and subtlety of the Traditional Environmental
Knowledge (Mätauranga) of the muttonbirders, and thank the tupuna for the way
their gift has sharpened our scientific approach and hypothesis formation. The
kaitiaki are the toughest ethics committee we have ever faced. We are struck by the wairua and passion of
many of the muttonbirders to conserve the birds and their islands. The
job of the research team is to advise on likely trends in tïtï abundance and
a menu of potential management responses should management be needed and
wanted by Rakiura Mäori. People often
project onto us a responsibility for the answers that might come from our
science. We see the key decision of what
to do with the results of the research to be entirely the responsibility of
Rakiura Mäori - they hold tino rangatiratanga over the islands and the
harvest. A
constant goal of our partnership is to transfer the science process and its
ownership to Rakiura Mäori, and to learn from kaitiakitanga and Mätauranga
for Päkehä environmental stewardship. Association
with the muttonbirders has changed my worldview of conservation and New
Zealand society. I know the same has happened
for many of the students and field workers involved in the project. The kaitiaki have also helped the
University as a whole to feel its way towards a more bicultural approach to
research, teaching and public service.
The patience, trust, shared mahi, and knowledge of the kaitiaki allows me (a naturalised New Zealander) a spiritual connection to Aotearoa. How can I say thanks enough for a place for me to stand, a place for my children to stand? |
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Talk
Introduction
He mihi tuatahi, ki Te mana
o tenei rohe, ki te manawhenua o Rakiura, Ruapuke o Murihiku hoki, Tënä koutou,
Tënä koutou. He mihi hoki ki ka kaitiaki katoa o Te mahi nei, ko te ikoa Kia Mau
Te Tïtï Mo Ake Tönu Atu, Tënä koutou, Tënä koutou, Tënä tatou katoa.
Beginnings are
important
In
this presentation I will take a very personal look at the process of setting up
the Kia Mau Te Tïtï Mo Ake Tönu Atu research project. As the Chinese say, ‘even
a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step’. It is important that we learn how to take
the first steps in building meaningful partnerships. Also, I can not talk about
an ending to the tïtï project yet.
After about 6 years we are only about the halfway stage of the first
phase of the study. I also want to talk
about beginnings because I hope that many of you will start co-management
processes in your own professional endeavours if you are not already doing
it. I hope you will forgive the rather
personal and informal nature of this case history. Co-management touches deeply personal issues and each of us will
respond to them in our own way.
Audits spur action
So
how did the tïtï project really start?
In 1992, well before I even thought about tïtï, I asked the University
of Otago to fund an independent review of the Postgraduate Diploma in Wildlife
Management of which I was Course Director.
Rather than having an academic audit like those normally done for exams
and theses, I wanted stakeholder input from wildlife practitioners from the
community. We picked Dr Ken Hughey to
assess the programme. Ken at that stage
was in the Department of Conservation and he had been strongly influenced by
Mika Mason, DoC’s Kaupapa Atawhai manager in the Canterbury conservancy. It was Mika’s wairua (spirit), along with
Ken’s, that lay down a wero (challenge) after looking through my course’s
teaching, research and community service.
The gist of Ken’s verdict was that I had put together a course that reflected
a typical, monocultural, middle-class, Päkehä, Forest & Bird view of the
way the environment should be managed.
He pointed out that it was time I got my bicultural act together.
I
suppose I sulked a bit. I had worked on
a lot of human rights issues (Amnesty International, men’s anti-sexism groups,
homosexual law reform), and been a conservation activist. So I have not been shy of social conflict to
assert my values. But somehow it had always been easier to work on issues more
external to my being. I had never started on the core issues close in to my own
personal and professional life that reflected my self-identity and my place in
this community. Ken Hughey started my process leading to my speaking here
today. Lesson 1 then: audits and
reviews organised by institutes can be valuable. Of course, a detailed
process is needed after an audit, but a kick in the bum can start things. I hope that those of you in charge of
institutes, or teams within them, will request an audit about how well your group
is working on Treaty issues. Audits from the outside community are more likely
to spot the bigger gaps and speak the truth than ones from within one’s own
professional club. An external audit delivered into the lap of my peers and
bosses adds urgency to respond and spurs investment to put any problem
right. Ken’s brick bat was a useful
lever to extract funding from the University to take a more bicultural approach
to wildlife management.
Bewilderment and
recognition of ignorance
I
then tried to read about Mäori perspectives on environmental management, but
found very little printed out there to guide me. Lesson 2: you will have to
learn most of this by doing it rather than reading about it. I felt rather overwhelmed and ran down to
the local Department of Conservation (DoC) to talk to Matapura Ellison, the
Otago Conservancy’s Kaupapa Atawhai manager. His open supportive response to a
complete stranger’s confession (“I’m really ignorant. What do I do? Where do I
start?”) was a relief (“Well, you need
some guides”). He organised teaching of module in the next year’s course about
Tikanga Mäori O Mahika Kai (Mäori customary use of wildlife). Matapura himself
taught, as did Kelly Davis and Tatene Wesley from the local community. They worked with the students in the
classroom and then hosted a hui for them in the local marae. Lesson 3: Tangata whenua are standing ready
to help Päkehä start their own journey.
It blows me away to see the patience and openness of Mäori each time
they bring forward the partnership principle. You can see that patience in
operation at this hui. Most Mäori
quietly express the fundamental request, again and again, usually without
rancor or bitterness: give Mäori a stronger say in the environmental management
of Aotearoa as promised in the treaty of Waitangi. I wonder how long their patience can last if we, on the Päkehä
side, do not move more quickly towards strong co-management. Päkehä have 160
years of listening to catch up on.
Tïtï as a case
study of kaitiakitanga in action
I set
a goal to try to understand what kaitiakitanga was - I was meant to be teaching
it afterall! The tïtï harvest was a
natural choice because it was one of the last remaining widespread ‘cultural
harvests’ or customary uses of wildlife still largely controlled by Mäori.
Matapura Ellison again came alongside as a guide. He took me to meet some
elders who were very important opinion makers with the Kai Tahu whanui. George Te Au was one of them and one we now
sadly miss. He spoke up strongly for
the research when we most needed support.
Matapura
taught me the need for face to face dialogue and to make myself personally
accountable to the community’s leaders.
I had thought that tïtï harvests were run and guided by Ngäi Tahu, but
Matapura showed me that actually it was the Rakiura Mäori whanui that exercised
rangitiratanga over the tïtï harvests.
Some Rakiura Mäori fiercely assert independent authority from Ngäi
Tahu. And yet Ngäi Tahu also had an
important role, especially at that time of intense negotiation of redress for
‘Te Kereme’ (the Ngäi Tahu claim to the Waitangi Tribunal). It was important to go to the table of Te
Runanganui o Ngäi Tahu at the same time as forging links with Rakiura Mäori. Had we gone to one alone, or one before the
other, we may well have blown it at the very start. Matapura led me through
that political minefield of which I had been utterly ignorant.
Lesson 4: Take a friend and guide from within the local Mäori community
if you are a Päkehä trying to work across a cultural boundary. The same might apply for a Mäori trying to
come into the Päkehä environmental management world to apply kaitiakitanga.
I
am on record as saying that Kaupapa Atawhai managers are hardly empowered
within DoC because they lack resources and time to meet all the demands on
them. The Tikanga Atawhai fund, which
is dedicated to conservation projects of particular importance to Mäori, gets
less than 0.1% of DoC’s funding. I know from personal experience that many
conservation projects promulgated by manawhenua are stalled by lack of
funds. In my opinion, it is a national
disgrace that more funds are not dedicated to Mäori conservation within DoC,
especially since Section 4 of the Conservation Act directs the Department to
give effect to the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. This failure lets me
down, and all other Päkehä who want to honour the Treaty. The legislation promised me that a true
partnership in conservation management would occur. As a member of society outside DoC, it is extremely frustrating
to not be able to remove the bureaucratic inertia that somehow prevents strong
co-management based on real power sharing with manawhenua. Kaupapa Atawhai managers do an excellent
job, but their potential will be greatly underused until they are better
resourced. Lesson 5: Kaupapa Atawhai
managers are useful guides and a real help.
Prolonged
negotiation
It
took a year of getting to know people in the birding community, three meetings
with the Tïtï Committee and correspondence with Te Runanganui o Ngäi Tahu
before Phil Lyver and I were granted an opportunity to speak to the annual
‘Permit Day’ hui of muttonbirders. This was the crucial step where we had to
ask for the community’s sanction to commence the research. That hui was extremely acrimonious. I
remember it far too clearly to this day. I was grilled by the community for one
and a half hours. “Who the heck was
I?” “What did I want out of this?” “Why was I poking my nose into their
business?” “You must be from DoC”.
“Well you must be from Inland Revenue then”. “Maybe you are from the
Health Department”. “Well then you must be from DoC!” I found it an extraordinary experience. I came away drained but
curiously uplifted. Lesson 6: Mäori have a refreshingly honest approach to
conflict resolution and conflict management. I have never felt such a community process where people were
testing me and wanting to know who I was when all I wanted to do was a bit of
science after all. That process nurtures pride and personal commitment because
researchers learn first hand the relevance of their work to people’s real
lives. Lesson 7: Scientists will have to make themselves personally
accountable to the Mäori community if they are to apply science in a bicultural
way.
Conflict
between the University research team and the kaitiaki has reduced but has not
ended, even after 6 years of gathering trust and working together on this
project. I think that conflict will
never go away when you co-manage something as dear to people’s hearts and
identity as the environment. Aotearoa can never expect a total end to conflict
across our cultural divisions, but she can hope to manage conflict better in
future. We must accept our differences and work respectfully with them. Lesson 8: The goal is conflict management,
not conflict resolution in all co-management endeavours. Indeed a moderate
level of well-managed conflict will bring diversity in problem definition and
creative identification of solutions to environmental problems. But conflict is very unsettling at the
beginning of a partnership in particular. Lesson
9: The partnership will need a clear definition of conflict management
procedures.
Research
teams are potentially very important brokers between traditional antagonists
when forging co-management. It has been
important to reinforce that the University team was not motivated or sent by
DoC to influence or control birding. DoC have indeed supported the tïtï
research project with advice, permitting access to islands and logistic support
for visits to DoC-administered reserves.
We are extremely grateful for their support. But DoC have kept a respectful independence of the research
co-management as they have continued developing their own co-management
relationship with Rakiura Mäori. We
were trusted be some Rakiura Mäori partly because researchers are seen as
neutral players amongst wider struggles between vested interests.
Lesson 10: Research teams may find it easier to start partnerships than
environmental management agencies that may be suspected of having their own
agenda.
Social Contracting
We
came upon an idea to write, for want of a better term, a “Cultural Safety
Contract” to set out the expectations of the kaitiaki and the research team. It
was very important at the beginning of the process because it helped make
everyone feel safe before trust could grow from actions demonstrating the good
faith of each partner. Lesson 11: A written understanding helps at
the beginning. A written statement
without subsequent action is tokenism and betrayal, but formal contracting
helps start-up partnerships. Even
comparatively recently, there have been times of stress and conflict where each
partner has reminded the other of the spirit of the social contract struck at
the outset.
The
contract made fundamental statements of working in good faith together for at
least 10 years. One concern of Rakiura
Mäori was that we would be like some earlier people who promised to work with
Tangata Whenua but then were gone in a year or two when the going got tough.
The strain of starting again with new people breeds exhaustion. Equally the University research team needed
a guarantee of long-term access to study sites in order to study the slow
population turnover and delayed onset of reproduction of the tïtï. Really 20 years was a more realistic
ecological time-frame to get robust scientific data on seabirds, but this
seemed an impossible commitment from both sides when neither of us knew how it
would go. So the compromise was a commitment to work together, no matter what
the problems, for 10 years at least.
The
research team were made to understand that the mana (pride, responsibility)
associated with the tïtï lay entirely with Rakiura Mäori. This was to be the
birders’ project from the outset. The social contract aims outlines various
ways to transfer the science project to Rakiura Mäori as quickly as possible.
The University team agreed to train Rakiura Mäori in science methods. Great
sadness was expressed by the community that they did not have their own people
to do this work on their taonga species. The fundamental goal was to ensure
that Mäori were in control of the science process and that they owned the
process as theirs’. The kaitiaki control all public statements. Lesson 12: The mana of the tangata whenua
must be recognised and honoured throughout
the project. In issues of research
direction and communication, Mäori have the tuakana (elder brother, senior)
role, the researchers the teina (younger brother, junior) role. In issues of
science design and execution, the researchers have the tuakana role and the
community the teina role.
The
word ‘power’ has never been used by the kaitiaki directing the research
project, but working with the local power structures is crucial. Finding out about who controls the local
community in another culture is the first step for the research team, and
finding ways to blend seamlessly with that authority is the next. It was essential that the research team
demonstrated that it respected the local power structure and for it to get the
research information to those key people.
The research team needed to accept that these other people were in
charge. The research team was and is motivated by a sense of privilege to work
for the kaitiaki. Any whiff of an
agenda to directly influence the outcome of future tïtï harvests would
undermine our partnership. All that the
tïtï research team is responsible for is to present an honest picture of what
is happening to tïtï numbers and lay out a menu of potential management options
that the Rakiura community alone will choose from. One option on that menu is for the kaitiaki to change nothing no
matter what the research results.
Scientists
are generally spirited, self-centred, strong individualists with a passion for
their own knowledge chase. Here lies a
clue to why comparatively few scientists are engaging in co-management of
research with Mäori. An important part
of the strength of science comes from a free-radical spirit – to ask the
unpopular or politically incorrect questions, to form conclusions on evidence
rather than vested interest. Freedom
brings the spark to ignite good science. So cross-cultural tensions quickly
surface when mana and rangitiratanga (sovereignty, authority) meet scientific
independence.
The
cultural safety contract stipulates that the scientific information gathered on
tïtï is jointly owned by Rakiura Mäori and the University of Otago, but any
Mätauranga Mäori (Traditional Environmental Knowledge) uncovered by the
research is to be wholly owned by Rakiura Mäori. Rakiura Mäori retain complete
discretion on whether Mätauranga would ever be disclosed. That causes disquiet
amongst some of my scientific colleagues who see an ethical imperative to
always disclose all information, no matter what its nature. Retention of all
the intellectual property rights to Mätauranga was something Rakiura Mäori felt
to be very important and the research team was happy to comply with their need.
Lesson 13: Intellectual property rights must be safeguarded by agreement at the
outset. But a reciprocal bottom
line was not negotiable for the research team. Rakiura Mäori agreed that they
had no right to stop publication of the scientific research, no matter what it
might say about sustainability or otherwise of the of the tïtï harvest. This
reflects a fundamental ethical requirement from the “scientific cultural
perspective”: no socially responsible scientist can go into a scientific
investigation predetermining that they will report if they get one answer, but
go silent if they get another answer. Lesson
14: The Mäori community must respect scientific ethics in co-managed research
efforts.
Once
these property rights and ethics principles were protected, the remaining parts
of the cultural safety contract were easily agreed. Several processes were instigated where an honest exchange of
ideas could occur. Rakiura Mäori are to
hear the results first and are given an adequate chance to help interpret and
check the science.
The science needs
to abide by tikanga
The
way the tïtï team did its science had to be very different. Bicultural science does not just demand that
Mäori define the topics for research and that more Mäori do the actual science.
The methods used may have to be very different. One example from the tïtï project relates to a rähui that Rakiura
Mäori have taught and asserted for centuries: no one may set foot on the manu
(birding ground) down on the Islands until half way through March, and everyone
must leave by the end of May. The rähui is mainly imposed to protect habitat
and reduce disturbance to the birds. We are trying to study a bird that lays
its egg in November-December. Many of the processes that we wanted to
understand are over and done with by the time the birding season arrives, so we
have had to patch up by measuring egg and chick losses, and study density
dependence in nesting behaviour at non-birded islands. This enforced change
brings inefficiency and added expensive.
It also weakens the science because it forces extrapolation of results
from other places to the key sites of interest – the birded islands. But had we
visited outside the birding season, we would have blown a lot of community
trust and respect by violating tikanga (custom, lore). Lesson 15: Abiding by different ethical constraints and customs is
needed when applying science in different cultures.
The
way we communicate scientific results certainly has to be very different. Complex formal scientific papers must be
written to satisfy the safety checks of science, but the key mode of
communication is oral at the annual Permit Day hui. We also produce Tïtï Times,
an informal newsletter about the research, which we mail to the birding
families. It is fundamentally important for us to get the scientific
information back to the community in a digestible form so that Tangata Whenua
can test it against their Traditional Environmental Knowledge and formulate
their own interpretations and action plans.
If community leaders and flax-roots members of the birding community are
not given a chance to understand the work and to incorporate the results into
their own world view, there will be little chance that they will trust in and
use the results. Repeated pleas by the
research team for written feedback from the community have nearly always
failed. We have used oral histories as
a natural mode of gathering information in a society. Lesson 16: Oral
communication and discussion of research results is the favoured primary mode
of reporting, but science writing is also needed to safeguard scientific
rigour. This is another example of
the way working in a bicultural manner can almost double the workload for the
science team. Many idealists think that science is beyond gender, beyond
nation, beyond culture, beyond whether you are wealthy or poor person. The great search for ‘Truth’ is not meant to
be tainted by cultural differences at all. Certainly some parts of the
scientific process are not negotiable, but many parts of how science is applied
must vary between societies. If we do
not change how we do science in different segments of society, it is unlikely
to succeed or be accepted as a useful or trusted tool. Lesson 17: Biculturalism must become embedded in all parts of the
research team’s process.
There
is another, less parochial reason for fostering biculturalism in science than
just ensuring that our own project will succeed - science itself could benefit from a diversity of approaches that
will emerge from its application in a variety of cultures.
Attacks come from outside the partnership
Immediately
that our social contract was signed, Forest and Bird’s conservation director
was saying at a public meeting in Christchurch that the University research
team had signed away its integrity. The
charge was that we were bought because if the science showed that the tïtï
harvest was not sustainable then we would not publish the results or tell the
public. The same lie was repeated by a
consultant whom summarised the submissions to the Southland Conservation Board
about the proposed return of ownership of the Crown Tïtï Islands to Rakiura
Mäori ownership as part of the Treaty of Waitangi redress process. There had been no attempt to find out
whether their defamation was true, yet it undermined the mana of both partners
and set to naught any public confidence in the research as an added safeguard
that the tïtï harvest was to be managed sustainably. Lesson 18: Some
preservation oriented NGOs are opposed to co-management partnerships and will
go to unethical links to undermine the ones being attempted. Indeed, the Forest & Bird Society’s
policy on Treaty of Waitangi issues (1996) aims “to support the resolution of
claims under the Treaty of Waitangi using Crown assets but generally excluding
title and/or management control of the conservation estate”. This denies the fundamental partnership
principle of the Treaty and co-management.
While such a policy remains, our most prominent conservation NGO will
obstruct gains for New Zealand plants and animals that can be captured from
strong co-management with iwi.
Gerard
Hutching then wrote an article for North and South Magazine about the proposed
co-management of the Tïtï Islands. When the editor checked the proposed text
with me, I placed in writing that the non-disclosure allegation was
unfounded. The editor just changed the
wording in a way that made it clear that this was not North and South making
the allegation (a “keep the juicy conflict but protect your own arse” strategy). So the defamation was repeated again to a
much wider audience. We then submitted
a letter to the editor for the next North and South issue to correct the
record, but guess what? They did not
publish it. Lesson 19: The media are
sometimes not helpful for partnerships and bridge building.
A
prominent environmental scientist from Auckland wrote to the Minister of
Science referring to Henrik Moller’s “Madi science”. This was his corny way of saying that I was now a Mäori
scientist. He urged the Minister to
ensure that I never be given any funding from the New Zealand tax-payer ever
again.
At
about the same time that we were negotiating a start to the tïtï research, the
Southland Conservation Board ran a public submission process about returning
ownership of the Crown Tïtï Islands to Rakiura Mäori and instigating
co-management. To my shame, I only
submitted a two-page very rudimentary submission - as ever I was too busy to do
better and did not realise what was coming.
Of 118 submissions received, there were 104 that opposed the return of
the islands and co-management. Many
came from the various branches of the same preservation NGOs, public access
lobbyists and the Federated Mountain Clubs.
Some were from scientists who repeated half-truths and anecdotes and
stated things in a loaded one-sided manner.
There were repeated assertions that tïtï numbers were declining, yet the
only quantitative evidence available at that time showed no population
trend. Research has since recorded
declines, but why was this prejudged? Lesson 20: Some scientists are not always
objective when weighing evidence across cultural boundaries. Amongst the remaining submissions, just mine
was from a Päkehä in support of co-management. The rest were from Tangata
Whenua saying very simply: “These are our islands”. “We love them”. “We have
been going there for generations”. “We
want to look after them in the way we have been taught to by our tupuna”. “We want our islands back.” These latter submissions were mainly one or
two pages long and often hand written. The conservation and public access NGOs
submissions were often several pages of word-processed, well-presented
prose. Interestingly, the same phrases
came up repeatedly and often in the same order. Clearly there had been an organised co-ordinated raft of submissions
to swell the numbers against the return of the land or transfer of management
control to the local people. Lesson 21: Eco-racism is alive and well in
Aotearoa.
‘Eco-racism’
may sound like too hard a label to use for some people’s comfort, but it is a
phenomenon well recognised within North America. There are hundreds of
publications about the way the costs and benefits of environmental management
are spread unevenly through different sectors of society, or amongst different
countries. It is no surprise that often indigenous people can not equally
defend themselves or their local environment.
Legal mechanisms, wealth, power and educational qualifications are often
not accessible to them, so they are in effect excluded from exercising their
management rights. Lasting solutions to
environmental problems will only emerge when justice is honoured. This hui covers many of those issues. Eco-racism is not racism in the sense of hating
Brown people - it is racism that seeks to walk over dis-empowered minorities
for the sake of one culture’s view of the way the environment should be
managed. Champions for the environment
who wish to speak for the animals and the trees often see humans as the
enemy. For them, perfect nature has no
people in it. Many preservationists
claim a warrant to walk over people to attain their own vision of the
environment. If human ‘opponents’ are
weak and easy to roll, so much the better.
I
think that some people are against partnerships because of vested interest in
the status quo, or because they prosper from ongoing conflict. So when co-management partners collect
criticism from outside, it may have little to do with what they are doing and
more to do with them representing a more general threat. It can be profoundly
unsettling for a research team when opposition seems to be coming from all
sides. I assure you, it is sometimes a
very lonely place to stand between two cultures. If you start a co-management project, you must know you are going
to finish it or else everyone, the environment and society will all be
losers. Lesson 22: Research teams must overcome opposition from both within
their own culture and sometimes from the culture with which they are trying to
build a partnership.
Go slowly at first
Having
got through the start-up, we went on in our blundering way only to hit cultural
walls that we did not even know existed.
We asked questions about whakapapa of birders out of a wish to make
friends, only to discover it was interpreted as rude nosiness or us trying to
police who was on the Tïtï islands. We
got under the feet of tired muttonbirders (birding is long, exhausting and
dirty work). At first we did not understand just how invasive our science was.
Conscious of the short time available and the need to prove our scientific
worth, we tried to push too hard for scientific goals and aims under very
trying field and social conditions.
That made it really hard for the people we were trying to work
with. After two years of baseline work
on one island, we were forbidden to return.
No science was possible in the next year which we spent getting to know
the birders from another island to re-establish the study. So three years and several thousands of
dollars later, we had to start again in the face of considerable opposition
from a minority faction whom we had offended.
Lesson 23: Science progress may be
much slower than usual when establishing co-management across a cultural divide.
Nurturing the partnership must become the first priority when one is trying to
work in a community-driven, consensus approach that embodies
Whänaungatanga. That community
consensus is a beautiful and powerful force when you get it going in support of
the partnership kaupapa, but it takes a lot of time to build trust. Lesson 24: It takes time to build
partnerships and that time takes away a lot of the energy and capacity to work
on the actual scientific objectives of the study.
This
type of community work is not something that the research team had ever been
trained in, nor something that we fully understood to be so difficult when we
began. After all, we were mere scientists just wanting to work on a wonderful
bird! Lesson 25: Scientists will need to possess or to be trained in a whole
new set of social skills to work on bicultural co-management projects.
So why has the research partnership survived so far?
Support
for the research has come from the flax-roots of the Rakiura Mäori
society. The research team has felt the
wairua of the project through the support of individual birders on the Tïtï
islands. The birders are a really spirited, wonderful group of people, whose
support has kept the research team going through thick and thin. Lesson
26: Working amongst locals is enormously satisfying. The awhi (support,
guidance) of the research given by many birders has had little to do with
politics and more to do with friendships between individuals.
There
is an element of serendipity and luck in overcoming obstacles to growing
community trust. In our case it came down to having key innovators and
individuals within Rakiura Mäori who were prepared to support the research
against antagonists within their own community. I would particularly like to
single out Johnny Wixon, a wonderful birder from Poutama Island, who really
cared for his birds and his island. He
wanted this research enough to support us though thick and thin at the
beginning. He invited the research team
to study on his island and worked with the other beneficial owners to start us
on Poutama. I would also like to
mention one of the most visionary kaumatua that I know, the whaea (mother) of
Murihiku, Jane Davis. Arohanui ki a koe, Jane.
You have spread your cloak over us even though at times we must have
seemed to not deserve your protection.
I would not be standing here if it was not for you. Lesson 27: Key individuals within Mäoridom have a huge impact and can
help researchers through rough spots.
The
Rakiura Tïtï Committee have borne the brunt of the mahi to steer the research
effort along. Many times we left them
after 2 or 3 hours of meeting to consider our research knowing that they had
hours of discussion left to go that night on many other take (issues,
conflicts) associated with the tïtï harvests and Tïtï islands. Most of the committee work as volunteers and
carry a frightful burden with good cheer and commitment. I wonder how our country can expect full
partnership in environmental management if we are not setting up the mechanisms
and resources to pay Tangata Whenua for their service. To me it is much like the principles behind
the “Tomorrow’s schools” initiative that set up Boards of Trustees to do much
of the work in schools done previously by paid officials within government
departments. Rooting the control in the
local community can harness passion and commitment to see the job done well,
but there has to be a better way of relieving financial and time pressure from
the kaitiaki to exercise their kaitiakitanga.
The
energy and commitment of a whole team of researchers is another ingredient of
our prevailing thus far. There has been
awesome scholarship and personal dedication from PhD students (Phil Lyver,
Christine Hunter, Jane Kitson and Paul Scofield) and MSc students (Sheryl Hamilton,
Ilka Sohle, Sebastian Uhlmann and Kristin Charleton). The science is co-directed by David Fletcher, a biometrician, and
me. Two wonderful postdoctoral fellows
(Tina de Cruz and Jamie Newman) have been ably assisted by Darren Scott, our
field team manager. Detta Russell, from
this marae, has been our main guide and field worker from within Tangata
Whenua. Tracey Turner, Maureen Howard
and Maggie Atkinson have been regular field assistants along with several
birders. Like all teams, we have had
our internal conflicts, but we have all pulled hard to achieve the bicultural
kaupapa behind the project’s science.
Another
reason that we have survived is that we have stood fast by our pride in
science. We have been blown away by Mätauranga and the Traditional
Environmental Knowledge of the birders. It is hard to put a figure on it, but
the knowledge shared by the birders has put us at least 20 years ahead in the
scramble to understand tïtï populations and behaviour in a scientific way. But
respect for Mätauranga does not diminish our pride in science. There have been
moments when it has been quite hard to hold fast to pride in science as a
tool. One of those formative moments
was at a hui at Taumutu. I had been
invited by Manaaki Whenua (Landcare Research) to talk about the tïtï project
and I had arrogantly assumed that my credentials and good intentions would have
been taken for granted. I had been working with Mäori, so I must be alright,
eh? I told the hui that we would not
really know whether the tïtï harvest is sustainable or not until we had been
able to measure it. Del Wihongi stood and went at me in fluent Mäori for 5 very
long minutes. I could not understand many of her words, but I sure knew that
she was not very pleased with me! The
wonderful Rau Kirikiri came along to translate for me. Del considered me to be yet another Päkehä
scientist coming here to preach and not listening to Mätauranga. If I really wanted to know if the tïtï
harvest was sustainable or not, Del considered that I just had to ask the tïtï
harvesters. Now that was a real crunch time.
My whole ethical approach and professional training as a scientist is to
remain sceptical and to try to measure things before coming to conclusions.
Scepticism is my profession’s friend.
It is quite distinct from cynicism which is an enemy of objective
analysis. Scientific scepticism has
nothing to do with cultural arrogance.
But when trying to build co-management with a partner burned by
generations of colonisers trumpeting their new tools, it is not surprising that
this crucial distinction is not accepted.
Actually scepticism can become the friend and supporter of Mäori culture
if only the science tool was applied more to issues of substantive interest to
Mäori. Del’s wero was a wonderful test
that helped me understand myself better. Lesson
28: Hold fast to your beliefs. Partnership
is not about surrendering one’s own values or identity, it is about recognising
the validity of a partner’s reality in return for them respecting yours.
Scientists
can indeed be very arrogant when they forget that they are a billion times more
ignorant than knowledgeable about how the universe works. But I am proud of
the “scientific whakapapa” that allows
me to rather indirectly link back to all the people who have taught and
accumulated scientific knowledge for thousands of years. People flock to places
like the University of Otago from all round the world to pick up and carry
forward the flame of knowledge and continue honing science as a beautiful tool
for learning. In many ways the
University is no different from this marae where younger people come to learn
Mätauranga and tikanga from their elders. Te Whare Wänanga o Otago (University
of Otago) does things in a different way and its community of interest is
world-wide rather than local, but the wairua is the same in the marae as in the
university.
Saana
Murray was also at that Taumutu hui that I referred to earlier. She stood to speak about her beloved kuaka,
the godwits. Gradually her körero broke
into crying, and then into rage as she talked about kuaka and the way her
people have been excluded from management of those birds. I cried too. I knew then what we had done.
And I knew it in quite a different way than by reading some theoretical
philosophical stance in books where it is called “connection to the land”, or
some such. The exclusion of Mäori from
environmental management is a live take.
Understanding that at a gut level has been an important motivation to
keep going when the going got tough. If
many of us could go to more hui like this one in Murihiku, the one at Taumutu,
or the one at Motutau where I heard Kevin Prime’s awesome explanation of rähui
in the surrounding landscape, we would actually hear Tangata Whenua speaking
from their heart and soul. The quest
for a bicultural approach to environmental management would then be much more
advanced. Lesson 29: Go to the marae to listen and learn. Unfortunately the people who most need to
hear are not likely to go to marae to listen.
Why
else have we survived? Rakiura Mäori received substantive funding from FRST’s
Public Good Science Fund, with additional support from the New Zealand
Aluminium Smelters Ltd., Te Runanganui O Ngäi Tahu, and both the Division of
sciences and Zoology Department of the University of Otago. FRST were
especially keen to help. The science team was needed to write the FRST grant
proposal and to report on progress, but FRST directed the money to where the
mana lay: to Rakiura Mäori. They
subcontract the University of Otago research team to do the work as
directed. This affirms that the Mäori
community is in charge and may have helped build feelings of safety and control
amongst the kaitiaki. Lesson 30: secure funding in the name of the
community research directors, not in the name of the research providers.
What motivates
co-management of research?
The
challenges and set-backs in the last 6 years have made this the very worst
science project I have ever attempted.
It has felt like walking on glass at times. We will all differ in what motivates us to keep on keeping on
despite such challenges. For me it
comes from the Treaty of Waitangi and my sense of place. If I were allowed to borrow just one word
from Mäori for my family and my culture, it would be turangawaewae. I was born in Denmark. I have often wondered who I am. My home was very Danish and yet by day I
lived and was educated in a colonial society.
I never felt quite a New Zealander until my children arrived. My three
beautiful children and their wonderful mother are sitting just over there. I have started to land as a New Zealander
alongside them in large measure because of the trust and aroha shown to me by
Rakiura Mäori. I get sad when I hear Päkehä talk as though the Treaty is just
something that they must honour for Mäori.
It is not just an obligation to Mäori. It is actually something to do
with all of us and this land. What bigger prize could there be for me to know
that I am a New Zealander now, some-one with a connection to this place. How wonderful to know that my children have
a place to grow as Päkehä, a chance to become native to this place. That is
what the Treaty promised me if I honoured my side of the partnership. The
Treaty is a two way street, but we do not yet seem to talk much about its
spiritual significance for Päkehä. It
is a special privilege to apply a gift from my tipuna, the science of ecology,
to a real partnership to keep the tïtï forever. Lesson 31: The tïtï research project has been the very best project
that I have ever been involved in.
Hopes for the
future
I
eventually discovered that my personal motives to do the tïtï project mirrored
wider community truisms written about overseas co-management initiatives. The international literature is unequivocal on
two fundamentals: First, development of a sense of place is a necessary
criterion for enlightened environmental management; second, lasting
environmental stewardship can only emerge when human justice issues are
honoured. Honouring the Treaty of
Waitangi offers Päkehä a sense of place with justice. When New Zealand has a true sense of place as a collective nation
we will take better care of our environment.
When Mäori and Päkehä have a proud history of working together to
protect and restore our environment we will have a stronger sense of place and
confidence in a collective identity rooted in our ecology. Lesson
32: Co-management will bring stronger and more lasting efforts for
environmental conservation.
I
hope that my description of the confusion, struggle and satisfaction
experienced by us when attempting a bicultural science project may help others
setting out on the same kaupapa. I also
hope that it may help Mäori find yet more patience while Päkehä scientists work
to get their bicultural act together.
We need time to learn and test new models of applying science. It is obvious that we must get more Mäori staff into science teams, but we must
also build the bicultural competency of empathetic Päkehä staff. It is not easy to cross the boundary between
a science culture to a Mäori culture which does not have a science tradition.
Perhaps realisation of the difficulty of the task may bring hope to Mäori
through realisation that the small number of Mäori science projects may simply
be a result of our unawareness of how to achieve biculturalism rather than a
result of lack of will to try.
The
University of Otago has been very supportive of the tïtï project, but yet it
has just been severely criticised in an audit by Professor Ranganui Walker for an
inadequate Treaty response. I am
convinced that a big contributor to that inadequacy is just that the University
does not know what to do to act in a truly bicultural way. One example can demonstrate that they
genuinely possess the will to act honourably.
The University of Otago recently agreed to charge Rakiura Mäori only
half of their normal overhead that is drawn off subcontract funds to run
University services. The other half of the overhead has been diverted back to
the kaitiaki of the study in recognition of their long hours of voluntary work
of guiding the tïtï project and the way that they are training us all, staff
and students, to be more bicultural.
The Treaty partnership principle was cited as the key reason for a 50:50
split in the overhead.
This
hui has been made possible by FRST in that we diverted $8,000 of our research
funds to assist with expenses and to make it cost effective for individuals to
attend. More importantly, the idea for
the hui came from a request from FRST for us to organise some way to share
lessons and visions between natural resource users, researchers and policy
makers.
Lesson 33: The will to act
honourably is in place, even though bicultural competency of individuals and
agencies still needs to improve before co-management of research becomes
commonplace. Gaining motivation is the hard part. Putting it into practice will inevitably
follow. There is good reason to hope
for better co-management in future.
The University’s Zoology Department has also paid
part of the costs of this hui. It also
contributed office resources and Ronda Peacock’s time to help organise our
meeting. She and the rest of the ‘Mahi Mob’ and the tïtï research team would
now like to say thanks to Rakiura Mäori and our hosts by singing a waiata. It is a song of binding. The bird and its
message of uniting together in the song is a call for unity among people, or
for the setting of a common goal. The
words ruka, raro, roto and waho may also be translated as north, south, east
and west. The words can also be translated as “ I hear the bird on high singing
its song of binding, above, below, inside, outside, so the day will hear and
the night will hear, binding together”.
For us the bird has been the tïtï.
Whakaroko ra
Whakaroko ake au
Ki te taki a te manu
E rere ruka rawa e
Tui, tui, tui, tuia
Tuia i ruka
Tuia i raro
Tuia i roto
Tuia i waho
Tui, tui, tuia
Kia roko te ao
Kia roko te po
Tui tui tuia
No
reira, Tënä koutou, Tënä koutou, Tënä koutou katoa.
Discussion
Question/Comment
(Tane Davis)
Kia
ora koutou. Henrik, my question to you is about the relationship between
Rakiura Maori and your staff members of the Zoology Team. Would I be right in saying that you are
still going through a learning curve now within that relationship about working
within Rakiura Maori?
HM - You
bet. We are trying to continue to learn
anyway.
TD - Did you anticipate having to
walk that track before you even thought to study the titi?
HM
- In my
blacker moments I don’t think I would have started this project if I had known
just how much pain it would involve. At
times its been very hard to keep my confidence and the same is true for the
whole research team. The differences between the partners are very real. It is very difficult to know how many of
those differences stem from bringing science to a community which does not have
a scientific tradition and how much they come from a mostly Pakeha team taking
a tool which is predominantly a Pakeha approach into a Maori community. But which ever it is Tane, it’s been
difficult at times. We didn’t know what
we were getting involved in and I think that that same unknown and fear is
really what the main difficulty is for the whole nation now. I understand that mistrust is there because
of the history. But a peace process is
needed now. A beginning to acknowledge
our differences and to start at least to work more together.
TD
-
I’d just like
to acknowledge in the Tangata Whenua of the island of Putauhinu, of the awhi they have given to the iwi of
the Zoology team. I think that’s
important.
HM
-
That’s who I
meant when I talked about the support from ‘flax roots’ - that direct people
contact that goes beyond the politics.
Nothing is to do with politics when we are down there on the
islands. When we are underfoot and the
birders are tired and have a job to do, we are a pain in the neck. Their support then is to do with tolerance
and the values of good human beings, not group politics.
Question/Comment
(Meredith Gibbs, University of Otago)
Kia ora koutou.
I wondered Henrik if you might have something further to say about the
scientific community’s lack of acceptance of these kind of collaborative
research arrangements. I was wondering,
is it in the area of the interpretation of results, about interpreting as being
a co-construction. Why is the
scientific community so worried about these kinds of collaborative
arrangements?
HM
- I think
it’s partly because of fear of an unknown.
The Cultural Safety Contract that we drafted is an example. We aren’t lawyers right, so it probably had
legal problems. But also it had things like
Maori words in it and our University contracting wing didn’t know what they
meant. When we took it to them, at
first they were very reluctant to sign it.
My Head of Department at the time, Colin Townsend, is also sitting back
there in the whare. He came with me to
the contracting office to make sure that they signed it. Thank you Colin. Their concern was to know
what was real in the contract. They had
never seen a contract that was to do with good faith and where there wasn’t any
money changing hands, and where the Traditional Environmental knowledge being
protected by the contract was hard to pin down. I talked about fine individuals who have helped the project, but
there have been some individuals who have been quite difficult. One individual in that consulting group even
changed the wording of a contract without telling any of us for Rakiura Maori
to sign. She added several clauses that
significantly weakened Rakiura Maori’s position and which went against all the
decisions reached by consensus with the community. So some individuals can get quite obstructive and quite
dishonourable too. But those are just
individuals within those organisations.
Overall I think the University of Otago, has been and remains incredibly
supportive, but sometimes is just rather confused about how best to honour its
Treaty of Waitangi commitments. It is
just something they haven’t seen as part of the process before. One would think that the wider scientific
community would be more welcoming of a diversity of approaches and to bring
Mätauranga Maori into their debate and processes. That’s if scientists have a confidence in their own way of
looking at life and divining truth about existence. In general I think that the need for more Maori in science is
understood at an intellectual level in people’s heads, but there’s a confusion
at an individual heart level about what and how to do it now.
Question/Comment
(Edward Ellison, Te Runanganui o Ngäi Tahu)
Tënä mihi atu ki a koe Henrik, ka nui nga mihi ki a
koe mo to korero ki a tatou. First of all, I just really would like to stand
and mihi to you Henrik for sharing this information, this knowledge that you
have gained so far. And the journey that you have undertaken to achieve that,
and certainly also a mihi to our whanaunga Rakiura Maori who have obviously
been very instrumental in the whole process.
So really I am just standing initially to acknowledge what you have
achieved. I’ve been an observer from
the outset. I recall when your project
came to the table of Te Runanganui o Ngäi Tahu. This was one of those necessary steps. Since those early days we have been hearing from our whanui on
how the project has been going. I know
you’ve had your ups and downs because we hear about both sides of it. But I think it’s really a feather in your
cap, in Rakiura Maori caps and, I feel in the cap of Ngäi Tahu. I also know the obstacles you’ve had to pass
through, to make your way over in terms of the science and the wider scientific
community. You are a threat or a challenge
or something to them because your acceptance in that wider fraternity does not
seem always to be that welcoming. In
fact you inquired of an organisation that I’m involved with as to who are the
Maori members on that organisation so we can send invitations to them. They refused to give you that information
presumably under the Information Act, so I didn’t at first know about this
hui. I actually found out about it from
Ronda Cooper who told me about it. I
was quite annoyed about that. And that
was just as recently as a month or so ago.
So opposition is very strong. I am saying that so people understand the
depth of the issue. Therefore I think
that heightens the achievements that Henrik and his team have made. Kia ora.
Question/Comment
(John Wixon)
Kia ora Henrik.
I would just like to say a few words.
It was my nephew, Phil Lyver who was in the Zoology Department who
approached me to ask what I thought about studying the sustainability of the
titi harvest. At that time on Poutama I
was noticing the decline in birds each season, probably over the last five
seasons. Burrows on the manu were covered with the leaves and the birds were
not coming back. It was a real worry to
me. I’m pleased that the research got
off the ground and has managed to survive and I hope it goes to it’s full
extent. It’s one way of giving hope for
the future generations of mutton birders.
Thank you Henrik.
HM
- Kia ora
Johnnie. I’d like you to try a
thought experiment in your mind. If you
were to go to four or five hundred people who were fishing an unstudied species
in private and said “Look, I’m a complete stranger, but will you let us figure
out if what you are doing is sustainable or not?” How quickly do you think you’d be shown to the door? But this community and people like Johnnie
have put their trust in us and our nation that the research will not lead to
control of the harvest being taken away from them. They have rolled up their sleeves and got stuck in to actively
co-managed the research process. One
thing I haven’t talked about is the role of the kaitiaki as an ethics
committee. These people are the
toughest ethics committee I have ever faced – they check methods and make sure
that the manu and the adult birds are not harmed by the research. And yet people are willing to say that Maori
don’t really care and can’t really be trusted to conserve. I sometimes wonder how my Pakeha friends
would have responded in that equivalent thought experiment had we been going to
a wider Pakeha community to invite study of their harvest which so far had not
been under scrutiny. It was individuals
like Johnnie that gave that crucial early support. Thank you.
Question/Comment
(Carol West, Department of Conservation, Southland)
Henrik I’m a bit perplexed about this lack of
support from the scientific community.
I was on the Foundation of Research Science & Technology Board that
strongly supported your research. I am
a President of the New Zealand Ecological Society. I don’t feel that in our organisation, which represents many
ecologists in New Zealand, do not support this type of research. I don’t feel that as a scientist working in
Murihiku. Can you be more explicit or
are you grossly generalising?
HM
-
I’m probably
grossly generalising. I suppose that it
has hurt quite a lot to have some individual scientists not even bother to
consult or listen but just knock what we are trying to do. So I have just tried to give an honest
window into an emotional roller coaster we ride on this journey. I agree entirely that the Foundation has
been wonderful. The University has been
wonderful. The project’s science
quality tests are still to come. But
yet there are some scientists who have been willing to bend the scientific
rules in the past to do with issues about conservation and the return of
control of the Titi Islands to Rakiura Maori.
I can cite several examples within submissions to the Southland
Conservation Board on the Crown Titi Islands where evidence and reporting was
extremely shoddy. I’m very concerned
about this same issue within the wider Conservation movement. I have become very unpopular within the
conservation movement for saying that we must get our facts right. I am as passionate as anyone else about
conservation in New Zealand, but that doesn’t give me a warrant to use science
at one time when it suits and then not use it at another time to assert
cultural or religious belief about how the environment should be managed.
(Question/Comment (Tiny Metzger)
[Editors note: This comment was moved from discussion section of Nora
Devoe’s talk].
We are getting near the end
of everything now so I’d like to thank Henrik for his tenacity in his continued
quest to study the Titi in spite of a lot of obstacles. For my part, I think that a study of Titi should
have been started 20 years ago. At that
time we would have had a bad season regularly, every three or four
seasons. Then the big trawlers started
catching the big fish that fed on the same food.