A few reflections on economy, capitalism, and Indigenous liberation.
Let us start with a broad position statement: Colonisation is an economic project. I say that in light of the first Doctrine of Discovery papal laws being a means to an end: for Europeans to break into the Saharan slave trade.
I say that in light of the text of those laws specifically being to dispossess Indigenous peoples of material and immaterial goods, and to commit our bodies to perpetual slavery – for the purpose of profit.
I say that in light of these papal bulls initiating the European, and Trans-Atlantic slave trades.
I say that in light of the resulting project being one that turned land, water, all goods, and even human bodies into commodities for trade and consumption, and how this necessitated the removal of their sacredness and humanity.
I say that in light of how colonial narratives have intentionally indoctrinated entire societies into believing that European economies are innately superior, and more rational, than Indigenous economies.
I say that in light of the fact that all colonial governments were established as institutions to secure perpetual rights of extraction from lands, waters and bodies based on the above principles.
I say that in light of how colonial economic privilege shapes transnational institutions such as the Bretton Woods system (World Bank, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organisation etc) and the United Nations – and the levers of power within them.
I say that in light of how our racialised global economy has placed the necessary resource to purchase political power in the hands of intergenerational colonisers, who then purchase political favours to maintain that oppressive power.
I say that in light of how the Doctrine of Discovery provided the backdrop to a global economy premised upon two permitted harms: Slavery and Indigenous dispossession.
I say that in light of the fact that the economic underpinnings of colonial racism make it an extremely entrenched form of colonialism. This sits behind the classic colonial myth that Indigenous justice (eg landback and constitutional reform) would cause broad economic instability.
Colonisation has never been power for power’s sake alone. It has always been about securing permanent access to our lands, waters, bodies and all we possess – both material and immaterial. This was very bad news for me when the realisation emerged. Me, who felt my eyeballs bleed when the financial news would show up on the television and eyes glazed over at the sight of currency charts and my brain tuned out at the mention of NASDAQ and the greenback. I had always equated economy with banks, money, currency and numbers. It was through Indigenous learnings that I came to appreciate economy as simply a network of wealth. That the “wealth” needn’t be money, but could be abundant lands and waters, and quality of life with those you love, and the “network” needn’t be a one-way vertical hierarchy, but could be circular, webbed, and nourishing. Understanding economy in a much more pure, simple sense as the ways in which we care and provide for ourselves and each other (both human and non-human) made economy much more engaging for me. Then, learning the story of our economy through the Doctrine of Discovery took it from a mind-numbing drone about the NASDAQ to an epic, enduring global tale of bloodshed, fortitude, and love in the face of extreme injustice.
Learning about colonial economics, the most obvious aspect of which is capitalism, has therefore been central to understanding colonialism, both in its early days in European hands, but also in more recent times as it has become an assumed permanent fixture, even in very recently colonized societies like Te Ao Māori. We could absolutely write a book about economic colonialism (and I’ll attach some recommended readings below) but for now, perhaps, it’s best for us to consider whether our embrace of capitalism is, at the very least, a conscientised, informed one.
There is a lot of talk about “economic rangatiratanga” of late, particularly from the most recent hui-a-motu. Certainly, there is a lot more freedom when utilising commercial rather than state or even philanthropic funds, but it does come with a price.
As abolitionist Ruth Gilmore reminds us, there is no version of capitalism that is not racial, there is not a version of capitalism that will not exhaust the energies and resources of the human and non-human world. It. Does. Not. Exist.
So there is no “Indigenising” capitalism, just as there is no “Indigenising” parliament. There is only dismantlement and re-construction for our Hawaiiki Hou.
That doesn’t mean we can’t operate within capitalism – of course, we must. We are forced to as a part of our colonised experience, but there are a few hard truths for us to confront in order to engage in capitalism in a conscientised way.
Capitalism was born out of colonial oppression. From 1450, with the birth of the European slave trade it was an economy that permitted extreme violence, subjugation and theft. Importantly, from 1600 the principles of colonisation became the yeast for modern corporate business models, with the founding of the East India Company, the first joint-stock business whose service was literally to colonise on behalf of the British Crown, whose empire had started to expand beyond the Crown’s financial capacity to underwrite it. The privatisation of colonialism continued from that point on, with many other “companies” receiving royal assent to carry out the work of colonialism all the way through to the notorious “New Zealand Company”, which received royal assent in 1841 (the astute amongst you will note that this is one year after the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which was meant to be the agreement that would protect Māori from the activities of the New Zealand Company).
So when I say corporate imperialism mirrors classic imperialism, I’m not being cute, I’m being very real: modern corporate models are borne of colonial oppression, mingled with colonial power. Colonial power has been historically used to protect corporate extraction from Indigenous peoples’ lands, waters and bodies, and as a global structure, it still does that today. This is the very reason why colonial power structures cannot halt climate change – it simply is not geared to function in a way that limits power in favour of environmental, human or Indigenous rights. We must consider this while being courted to monetise entire ocean and land based ecosystems and submit them to a colonially-led carbon market that is, overall, failing to achieve its goal of lowering emissions.
Capitalist wealth has always been dependent upon capitalist poverty, somewhere. So capitalist success cannot be a decolonial destination. We can engage in capitalism in a way that lessens the harm, for sure, but we must be real about what that means. For instance, you can purchase Māori items, but let’s not fool ourselves that this “indigenises” capitalism. When we purchase from Māori suppliers, what we are saying is “if I must engage in the harm of capitalism, let the profits at least flow towards Māori”. If we can find a Māori provider that uses locally sourced products, uses less plastic, creates lower emissions, directs profits towards community wellbeing, well then – all the better. Every step will reduce harm, and while we are all caught up in capitalism, this is of course more preferable than investing mindlessly into markets of harm.
My hope is that this is the new horizon for the Māori economy, now that there is a wealth of Māori businesses to choose from. I’m genuinely hoping that now we have the luxury of choice, as Māori consumers, we will start directing our dollars towards Māori business owners who are conscious of their business impact upon the planet and the underclass upon whose oppression capitalism rests. People will no doubt argue that this already exists, that the Māori economy is already one that revolutionises capitalism. I would point those people to this research by journalist Max Rashbrooke, which highlights the fact that the wealth-poverty gap within Te Ao Māori has increased in tandem with the growth of the Māori economy, and now rests at 2-3 times the size of the wealth-poverty gap between Māori and Pākeha. So even when embraced by Māori, capitalist wealth reproduces capitalist poverty. This is not a flaw of capitalism, it is its point. When it is replicated by the colonised, it is also the point of colonialism – for the colonised to replicate colonial systems themselves.
We must also, however, consider what alternatives there are. Just a few generations ago, there was a negligible wealth-poverty gap in Te Ao Māori. While this could be characterised as a shared experience of poverty, reflections of elders from that time indicate that there was, in spite of not having much money, stronger relationships in the community, and a greater sense of trust and cohesion in general. Interestingly, some elders reflected that when things went wrong, they were better able to address issues as a community, and there was less need to call upon the authorities. The economies that underpinned this lifestyle were not monetary economies, they were economies of sharing, of manaakitanga, of aroha, of kaitiakitanga. People would come together to plant, to harvest, to redistribute and to share kai. Such economies really can be the basis for transformation.
Under a capitalist market democracy (such as the one we currently live in), the fear of poverty is regularly used as a method of control. The most powerful display of this can be seen during elections, where various parties will throw beneficiaries under the bus, wax lyrical about Māori settlements being a drain upon the economy, and stoke fears about the cost-of-living crisis and housing crisis under their respective opposing party. They do all of this to direct votes, and acquire power. So imagine the political power retained within your community when you remove their ability to do that. Community funds that are collectively managed from within the community, designed to support people with their housing maintenance, or to keep food on the table, or to keep the power on in times of hardship are not just materially beneficial, but politically beneficial. They allow people greater freedom to democratically participate in a way that is not driven by a fear of losing everything. Successful examples include the Sawmill Community Land Trust and the Dudley Street Neighbourhood Initiative.
You can also focus on those who are worst impacted by capitalist societies, and ensure that they are kept front and centre as the measuring stick of your progress. This will include the unhoused, and the institutionalised (in prisons or wards). Examples of this include the Tonatierra Indigenous Embassy Miltecayotl project in Phoenix, Arizona, who work with undocumented migrant farm-workers to ensure they are well supported. Another is Waitomo Papakainga Inc, who work tirelessly to extract their people out of the prison system and support their reintegration back into their community, in addition to food and housing programs. There are echoes of our ancestral distributive economic models in our systems of kōhā during tangihanga, where we all pool our funds to support the whānau pani.
And while all of this is going on, we can always work to reinvigorate our kai-based economies, but of course this also comes with protecting abundant environments, which is increasingly difficult as capitalist democracies tighten their squeeze and seek to extract and exploit more from our lands and waters.
I’m going to address the remainder in a part 2 – because it really is an essay of it’s own, and it’s one that has gathered considerable interest since Waitangi Day where I named a number of business affiliations to the ACT party’s largest donors. Stay tuned for part 2 – fighting capitalism with its own tools.
RECOMMENDED READING:
The Financial Colonisation of Aotearoa by Catheryn Comin
The New Age of Empire by Kehinde Andrews
Inequality, A New Zealand Crisis by Max Rashbrooke
Debt: The First 5,000 Years,Updated and Expanded by David Graeber
The Economic Possibilities of Decolonisation by Matthew Scobie and Anna Sturman
