Delivered as a part of the online launch for the exciting Claim the Future project led by UK Labour MP John McDonnell, which brings together activists, policy experts, campaigning organisations and movements to Claim The Future – united behind a radical and optimistic vision for a Post-Covid future.
Science has now confirmed for us that COVID-19 is caused and sustained by human excessiveness. Our intensive global food systems, animal trade, biodiversity loss and climate change and their impacts upon animal habitats are all now clearly linked to viruses which cross over from the animal world to humankind and turn into pandemics.
But it’s also our excessiveness that sustains the virus and exacerbates its impact – globalized economies, air pollution, poverty, economic compulsiveness, individualistic attitudes are all behaviors that maintain COVID-19 transmission rates, stymie recovery, and subsequently increase mortality rates.
Our vulnerability to it is therefore of our own making and we have the power to change these things – BUT what we also know is that there are varying levels of agency to effect that change, as well as varying levels of vulnerability. This is because imperialism has shaped our way of interacting with each other, and the planet in a hierarchical fashion – Empire has hierarchically apportioned power, and it has hierarchically apportioned resources, and the consequences of that is a system that has hierarchical levels of COVID-19 impact.
As has been pointed out time and time again – COVID-19 is a kind of doppelganger for climate change that has brought the impacts of our actions right up to our faces in a way that we cannot evade, as we have our climate change responsibilities. COVID-19 is it is vast, it is terrible but it is not an extinction level event, climate change is an extinction level event and if we can recognize COVID-19 as a mirror it can show us important truths about ourselves to help us avoid the extinction level event that is climate change.
One of these truths is that we have become, over time, very good at articulating goals which we then set about undermining. We set underwhelming emissions targets we do not meet. We set sustainability development goals that we fail to achieve and we keep asking why that is so. It does not bode well for the Global Green New Deal. But if you apply the lens of empire to our global systems, it becomes very apparent, very soon, why we cannot meet these goals.
Imperialism is inhumane – its very nature is to dehumanize so that it can dispossess. The systems through which such these goals must travel to come to fruition are fundamentally imperialist in nature and as such are incapable of achieving humanitarian ideals.
And so there are three points I want to make crystal clear here:
- We must face the lessons of COVID-19 as a matter of humanity AND a matter of survival.
- Our flaws that are exposed by COVID-19 are fundamentally crafted by Imperialism
- Because Imperialism is inhumane in nature, it must be understood, exposed and rejected in order to achieve humanitarian goals.
One thing that happened where I live (and many indigenous places around the world) is that we set up checkpoints as a matter of survival because colonialism made us vulnerable to COVID-19. That act of survival was characterized as vigilantism and insurgency against the state (as it has in other nations too) but that is just one very obvious example of the intersection of imperialism and covid19.
Whole nations labour under economic imperialism, their own resources extracted for hundreds of years by European imperial powers, chained down by debt established under that same imperial system so that they CANNOT afford to effective respond to COVID-19 or climate change or any other crises – and that kind of imperialism is being maintained by international institutions such as the International Monetary fund and the World Bank.
We are already seeing how Imperialism is seeking to exploit COVID – through exploitation of Uighur workers in the PPE factories in China, how corporate food systems are exploiting community need by perpetuating dependency rather than supporting food sovereignty, how plastics industries are both exploiting emergency systems, perpetuating falsehoods about the necessity of single use plastics for COVID protection, and applying for COVID bailouts alongside the fossil fuel industry in general when the truth is they were flailing before that anyway.
It’s also vitally important we understand the mechanisms of injustice because it plays a huge role in the distrust of government systems and that is being manipulated by the global right. The climate crisis has spanned center right and center left governments in so many places around the world. Homelessness, wealth divides, resource wars have spanned both sides of the political spectrum. The inability for the broken political system to confront its own imperialism has muddied the waters for who is the lesser evil and who has the moral highground and it has created a context where what little power the populace has can be manipulated by imperialist media to vote against their own interests.
So we must identify these systems of injustice and reject them in our aspirations to build a just new normal. We cannot allow imperialist systems to define the scope of injustice either. They cannot be allowed to say “we care about justice except for the return of Indigenous lands”; or “we care about justice except for militarization in Hawai’i“.
If you’re interested in justice then this is what it will take: It will take a new international, and transnational, relational model. One that recognizes the independent rights of indigenous peoples, one committed to reversing the longstanding imperial injustice visited upon the global south, one that supports the rights of grassroots movements for self determination. That is what you will champion, if you are interested in justice, rights and humanitarianism.
Taking this step will require radical self-belief. Empire relies upon a number of fictions to maintain power. One is the fiction of benevolence – it likes to position itself as a benefactor of humanity, so that we believe we need it (we have discussed that). That also includes convincing us of its inevitability, and that there is impossible to dismantle it, or to do without it.
Along with fictions, Empire requires a machine to manufacture those fictions in numerous iterations and repeat it all around us again and again. That is the function of media empires – to convince us that it is IMPOSSIBLE to do. So, in the face of this media onslaught of hate and fear -to believe in ones own capability, and to believe in our own humanity, then becomes a truly radical act, and that is what we must do. We must reject the poverty of the mind and the austerity of the heart and radically believe in our own humanity, in our capacity to build systems of love, to the point where we invest in them. To love ourselves back into greatness. To let the planet love us again.
My beautiful friend and poet Karlo Mila says: You know – the planet she loves us. She wants to provide for us, but we keep hurting her. Water loves us too, she wants so desperately to be to be abundant, for us, to heal us and cleanse us but we keep killing her and we saw how fast she could recover during COVID.
Around the world there are small scale communities taking this lead for themselves. Where this is happening we need to support it to continue and grow, but importantly, for transnational issues like climate change, globally just economies, plastic pollution and the global green new deal, we need to model ourselves upon grassroots ideals of collective responsibilities, communal wellbeing, relationship regeneration, radical acts of love, and belief in humanity.
Whareroa Marae is nestled in the inlet of Tauranga Moana, a humble marae that has weathered an onslaught of industrialised colonialism for decades now. Most recently – the whanau of Whareroa have raised their voices to say: No more. Listening to their story, it’s impossible not to think of how this plays out across the nation. The industrial divisions of cities and townships that are zoned for “the public good” are so often merely another form of colonial landgrabbing from local Maori to facilitate urban and corporate expansion. The whanau of Ihumaatao, for instance, have, without consent, had their lands, their sacred mountain, their waters and food systems, stripped from them for the provisions of a quarry, an airport, and a sewerage treatment plant for Taamaki Makaurau. Similarly, the whanau of Whareroa Marae in Tauranga have watched their land holdings degrade over time, along with the abundance of their waters, and the freshness of the very air they breathe.
All of the land in this image used to belong to Whareroa Marae. Over the years it has been alienated, industrialised and polluted. Image from Marae TV story: https://www.maoritelevision.com/shows/marae/S01E017/marae-2020-series-1-episode-17
Ballance Agrinutrients in particular seem to be playing a significant role in this story. Whareroa Marae residents say the fumes from Ballance Agrinutrients drive them indoors and make the air unbreathable. Ballance Agrinutrients have responded by saying that it meets their consented criteria. In 2016 Ballance were fined $60,000NZD for sulphur dioxide release. That year the local council received 19 complaints from local residents.
Like all marae and hapu who bear the weight of public services, Whareroa deserve our support. But what Whareroa are also providing us with, is the local context of a story of injustice that extends across our nation, is bolstered through our own Māori economy (over 25% of all beef and lamb is farmed on Māori land, constituting over 228,000ha of grassland), and reaches out across oceans to the lands of other Indigenous peoples. The fertiliser industry is one that requires some careful consideration for Aotearoa, and for Te Ao Māori, who are both significantly impacted by, as well as having significant impact upon, the NZ agricultural sector. Opposition has mounted in recent years towards the injustice of phosphate mining in the Western Sahara for the production of fertilisers by Ravensdown and Ballance Agrinutrients, a practice now commonly known as “blood phosphate” mining.
Tecber Ahmed Saleh's tour of Aotearoa has ended, and for those who want to help stop Ravensdown and Ballance importing blood phosphate from Moroccan-occupied Western Sahara, then get involved with Western Sahara Solidarity Aotearoa by emailing email@example.com pic.twitter.com/XqhPj8TWxI— Tāmaki Makaurau Anarchists (@AKLAnarchists) October 13, 2019
The people of the Western Sahara know that New Zealand is a major culprit in phosphate extraction from their lands, stripping the topsoil, leaving land inarable – and transferring the arability across to Aotearoa where the bones and stones of the Western Sahara feed the fertility of New Zealand pastures. To understand the endgame of this practice we can look much closer to home. The Pacific islands of Nauru and Banaba were stripped bare of their own phosphate to feed New Zealand’s agricultural economy – driving the people of those islands off their ancestral lands and rendering those lands ecological deadzones. Our greed for fertilizer created an entire class of refugees within the Pacific, an injustice compounded by our reluctance to accept them onto our own shores. and the only reason that Ballance and Ravensdown turned their eye to the Western Sahara is because, in their locust-like extractive model, they exhausted the Pacific supply.
This is just one of many ways in which New Zealand, through racist economic practices, perpetuates economic imperialism across the Pacific and within the global south. Quite separate from the fact that the New Zealand economy is built off of stolen Māori land, and our dark past of Pacific slavery (blackbirding), but our fertiliser industry exploits non-white, non-European lands to prop up our agricultural sector, as a nation we have exploited Māori and Pacific Island communities as “essential workers” who are still not awarded a basic living wage, continue to exploit Māori, Pacific, and Asian workers on our fishing fleets who are working in deplorable conditions, and have, right up to the COVID-19 crisis, imported cheap labour from across the Pacific to subsidise the picking and packing of our fruit across the horticultural sector.
The exploitation of Indigenous lands for someone else’s gain, and the practical enslavement of migrant workers in our orchards and on our seas is an extension of racist and imperialist economic practices that were incepted, coincidentally enough, in Western Africa in the mid 15th century, where Europe first acquired permission to plunder lands, and the people of those lands, for the profit of European empires. It appears New Zealand as a colonial nation-state is now coming a full circle, founded in British imperialism, maintaining the economic traditions of it’s colonial forebears by propping itself up through the exploitation of others. This is a challenge not only for New Zealand’s economy, but also for the Māori economy, who holds environmental and Indigenous principles dear to our practices, but are also embroiled within these deeply problematic practices in our own horticultural, agricultural, and fishing industries.
In 2019, I interviewed Banaban scholar and author, Katerina Teaiwa, on the story of Banaba, phosphate mining, and Aotearoa. It was as a part of Katerina’s “Project Banaba” exhibition that was touring at the time, curated by Yuki Kihara. If you would like to learn more about the story of Banaba, I’d recommend Katerina’s book Consuming Ocean Island: Stories of People and Phosphate from Banaba. Most chilling, for me, in this interview and exhibition, are the facts about human remains that are scooped up in the phosphate mining process. For me, as Māori, I felt ill thinking about us loading planes with the dust of somone’s ancestors and sprinkling them over our fields. This is quite separate to the heavy metal impacts this has on our soils and polluting effect on our waterways. Superphosphate topdressing is an issue that all of New Zealand need to consider, but certainly that the Māori economy also need to consider, in our journey of decolonization.
Here is my interview with Katerina:
New Zealand, Australia, and the United Kingdom collectively owned a company with the purpose of mining the island of Banaba for its phosphate rock. This was shipped to cities and towns like Napier, to be manufactured into superphosphate fertiliser. While New Zealanders were developing the practice of aerial topdressing in the 1940s to spread vast quantities of fertiliser and transform what was once native forest into farms of lush green grass, Banabans were relocating to the island of Rabi in Fiji as their homeland was rendered uninhabitable. Katerina Teaiwa, Banaban artist and scholar, draws on this history in her multimedia exhibition Project Banaba. Curated by Yuki Kihara, Project Banaba traces further links between lands and lives unsettled as a result of the ‘settlement’ of the European colonial project. Weaving together film, still photographs, archival quotations and appliquéd hessian evocative of sacking, the installation brings the experience of the Banaban people to the fore. This is a story that highlights the imbalanced nature of colonising societies, premised on the domination of nature and indigenous peoples. While this imbalance has long been obscured, it becomes increasingly undeniable as soil quality declines, waterways become toxic, biodiversity is lost, and the climate destabilises. The exhibition therefore leaves us with a vital question: for the sake of all people, how can balance be restored?
TINA: Tāna koe e Katerina, i te tuatahi te tika me mihi ki a koutou ko ō tīpuna i tēnei mahi, koutou kua mau, kua takoto te manuka i mua i a mātou katoa, kia whakamōhio mai, kia whakapuare ō mātou whatu ki tēnei mahi tūkino. Just a mihi to you, and to all of your ancestors as well, who have carried this story and brought it forth in this work. It’s powerful and revelatory, and an important challenge to place before us all so that we can really consider it, and our role in it all. Were it not for these forums of truth that our own hold, to converse with each other – we would never learn of all of these systems going on around us that we are, knowingly or unknowingly, complicit in. Our governments sure as heck aren’t proactive in bringing any of this to our attention. So thank you for this, and for all your work on this issue. A lot of my work and contact with the injustice of phosphates has been with relation to its devastating effects on our waterways and food systems here in Aotearoa. Of course, the quote that there can be “no food without phosphate” is plainly ridiculous given that our own ancestral food systems performed so much better before all of this came along – but then I looked at the quote a little longer and realised that it can just as easily be a command, as much as a declaration – which really drives home the colonial nature of this practice. More recently I think we’ve been able to access more information on the injustices attached to this product in West Sahara, and through your work, in Banana. Does it feel to you like acknowledgement is finally on its way?
KATERINA: Tēnā koe and ko na mauri Tina. Ko bati n rabwa for talking with me about Banaban histories, phosphate landscapes and waterways and how these are entangled with the same in Aotearoa. The ongoing sourcing of phosphate from the Western Sahara illustrates just how important this resource is to New Zealand agriculture and how problematic phosphate extraction and reliance on fertiliser can be when ignoring the knowledges, practices and environmental relations of indigenous peoples. Banaba, like Nauru, was one of those islands deemed absolutely critical to the development of Australia and New Zealand and because it was directly underneath Banaban homes and villages, the people had to be removed to allow for unfettered access to the resource. This means that any human remains, any bones in those landscapes were also mined and transformed into fertilizer along with the rock. This wasn’t just unique to Banaba, though, bones are actually a critical source of phosphorus, an essential nutrient for plants and animals, and scholars have written about how both human and animal bones have (disturbingly) been used in history as fertiliser. At different times this Banaban story has been acknowledged, mainly when Banaban themselves fight for visibility, like in the 1970s when they sued the British government for colluding with the British, Australian and New Zealand mining company at the expense of the Banabans. The British Phosphate Commissioners was owned by the three governments so of course the interests of the three countries was paramount, not the interests of Pacific Islanders. Between the big court case in the 70s and today there have been a few media stories about Banaba and how mining destroyed most of the island but it has never resulted in any of the parties revisiting their responsibilities to rehabilitate the landscape. There was a payment made of 10 million Australian dollars in the early 1980s and six thousand or sonatas were expected to be able to benefit off the interest from this fund in perpetuity. They were moved by the company to Rabi island in the North of Fiji which once belonged to the Rabea people. The company bought it for them from the Lever Brothers who had used it as a copra plantation. Rabeans still have indigenous interests and claims to Rabi which leaves Banabans in a precarious spiritual and economic position with respect to their new home.In 1996 my elder sister, Teresia, wrote an essay called “routes and roots of a displaced native “which reflected on all this by imagining the bodies of Banabans, specifically our grandfather, his father and our great, great grandmother whose landswere leased to the mining company together with the body of the mind landscape. She wrote “agriculture is not in our blood but our blood is in agriculture.” This is captured in the concept te aba referring to both land and people. But as much as dispersing Banaban lands as superphosphate across Aotearoa has resulted in increased fertility of farms and stabilised erosion in hill country, excess phosphorus leaches into waterways and causes algae to proliferate. Industry thrived on and eventually decimated Banaba and the same is happening in New Zealand, Australia and other countries with mass agriculture.
TINA: People think that colonisation happened in the past but the truth is… the invasion of our territories, of our bodies, of our families, of our worlds, is relentless and never ceases.
KATERINA: Totally and in addition to remaining committed to challenging and critiquing colonial pasts and presents, I’m also interested in how Banaba history helps reframe contemporary intra-Pacific or trans-indigenous relations. Who are we to each other when our lands and ancestral remains are spread across Aotearoa and Australia? What does indigenous solidarity look like when commodities are formed from whenua or te aba and become part of a global food chain?
TINA: Well yes this is a very interesting question – when we consider ourselves, literally as iwi – the bones of this land – how do we reconcile our own Indigeneity with the fact that we are literally drawing from the ancestral bones of another land to coat our own for economic gain? Of course we take pride in being Indigenous but this clearly exposes that such pride does not necessarily translate into demonstrating solidarity. I feel we have become very good at conceptualising colonialism in a political sense but not an economic sense. There is a strong focus on sovereignty being accomplished when we have our own government colonial models) – but we still chase colonial models of economic success that are inherently linked to power disparity, exploitation, adversarialism and extraction… and we are quite happy to step into the role of coloniser in order to achieve that success. The time to address this discordance is more than overdue.
KATERINA: I agree, and I also think there are many trans-Pacific race, class, religious and cultural issues that hinder true solidarity and are hidden when the focus is on the state or colonial other. Colonialism and imperialism must be held accountable for the social, environmental, political, epistemological and gender based havoc it has wreaked on indigenous peoples but we also need to be wary of how such histories and biases of our own have resulted invitro-Pacific racisms and hierarchies. Until climate change catapulted Kiribati onto the global stage, British Micronesia was either at the margins of Pan-Pacific consciousness or vilified through unflattering representations of Nauru and ideas about “rich phosphate islanders”. Both Nauru and Banaba are in a most challenging environmental and financial state right now. Everyone knows Australia had much to do with the demise of both islands but New Zealand’s critical role in the exploitation of phosphate resources is often forgotten.
TINA: These are brave and necessary conversations to be had, at many levels. The New Zealand government has platformed itself in a sanctimonious manner as the “Switzerland of the South Pacific” (which in itself is a very colonial turn of phrase) – and yet, its own oppressive domestic colonial history aside, it has directly or indirectly played a role in horrid rights abuses of Native communities across our Moana and beyond. From blackbirding, to PACER plus, to our lack of leadership in relation to West Papua, to our participation in Gaza, New Zealand is anything but the politically neutral champions of peace and justice that we purport to be. And here we are, in the anniversary year of the arrival of Captain Cook – the vanguard of British imperialism that incepted a long, slow experience of genocide upon our lands and waters. If this is to be the year of anything then surely this is the year to examine the true cost of colonialism – upon our lands, upon our waters, upon our bodies -but also upon our minds. If we are to decry the colonial structures that have beset us as Indigenous peoples, this must come with an honest appraisal of how we engage and perpetuate these systems ourselves, and THAT must come with commitments to divest ourselves of these actions. We cannot hope to see justice if we are not going to build justice from the inside, out. And this is such a very “inside” space to consider. A very visceral inside space. The space of ancestral bones. The space of the soil we have arisen from. I’m reminded of the very wonderful words of Waziyatawin that pathways to justice must begin with forums of truth. This is a very powerful forum of truth that all of us in Aotearoa need to consider. And I say this not only because of the Non-Indigenous economy that has shaped both your and my ecological landscape – but also in mind of the significant Māori agricultural economy. The questions you pose about solidarity, and trans-Indigenous relations are quite right. I see some movement in our Māori economy towards sustainability – but this concept is increasingly understood within a context of social justice. So this poses a challenge to us BOTH in relation to how we call colonial power to account – as well as how we call ourselves to account.
KATERINA: E koala! Ko rabwa Tina. I look forward to more conversations and wish you te mauri, te raoi ao tetabomoa in all endeavors for your family, people and lands.
Kia Ora everyone!!
So after a lot of thought I have decided I will be shifting gears and working a lot more through my patreon page.
Those of you who have been with me from day one will have seen the political progression of my work as it gradually became clearer and clearer that plastic pollution IS oil pollution IS colonialism, and Imperialism, and over the past year in particular, it’s become really clear to me that if we cannot address these core issues of entitlement to lands, bodies and waters that are not ours – then we will never heal ourselves or Papatuanuku. The journey has become so much more than a personal pledge to reduce plastic use, and over time this blog theme has become less suited to that fullness.
Events of this year have really crystallised that issue for me, and so while I will continue to stand up against big plastics and big oil (and am definitely still directly involved in research, activism, and advocacy on those issues) – I’ll be focussing my content now on issues that are more explicitly focussed on issues of race, imperialism, Indigenous rights and environmental care.
I want to acknowledge all of you who have been on this journey with me for the past seven years. There’s been a lot of growth and a huge amount of support that I’m forever grateful for.
My patreon page is: https://www.patreon.com/tinangata
Feel free to come over and join the community there – I’ll be providing downloadable content, live Q&A sessions, podcast episodes, interviews etc!!
Ngā mihi NUNUI xxxooo
I’ve had a lot of people asking me about the Doctrine of Discovery and Aotearoa lately – to be honest there isn’t a hell of a lot out there on that particular intersection (which is why I did the work that I did).
Anyways – here you go, for free, the e-copy of Kia Mau – Resisting Colonial Fictions.
If you feel moved to koha, please consider the following organisations:
Over the past six weeks, as Aotearoa faced the threat of COVID-19, communities and individuals around the country responded in a myriad of ways. Early stages saw panic buying whereas some thought the whole thing was a bit of a joke, laughing at those in face masks, and laughing even more at any suggestion they should cancel their holidays. Others still were irritated at the intrusion into their plans and insisted they had a right to continue their daily affairs. My own East Coast community and many others responded early with direct action to stem non-necessary travel by reminding people directly of the alert level laws as they entered our region. (FULL ARTICLE HERE)
Today, we implemented our whanau plan for self isolation.
We have chosen to self-isolate slightly earlier than most in our region, but I still worry about whether we should have done it earlier. Our reasons are quite clear. Our baby is immuno-compromised, with a chronic respiratory condition that has seen her hospitalised numerous times in the past few years. We simply aren’t down for gambling with her wellbeing.
I spoke with our girls’ school, advised that they would not be returning, and asked for the next 2 weeks’ lesson plans. My partner arranged to make the drive into town to get some gears out of storage, planning his time so that he encountered minimal people during his errands. We spoke with my nephew who lives with us and is in conservation training about how we can support him to train and study from home. We checked our supplies to ensure we have 2 weeks worth of everything we need (I’ve messaged my partner a list of outstanding supplies that he can pick up but we have most of what we need already). I was conscious, even as we prepared ourselves in this way over the previous weeks, that this is a form of privilege that so many of my whanau cannot afford. Especially now that so many in our region are out of work. And even though I have often heard people say “Coronavirus doesn’t discriminate” – This is just the first way in which COVID-19 will hit Maori harder: economic barriers to preparedness for self-isolation.
We also live in an immuno-compromised region. We have 8 times higher than the national average incidence rate of chronic rheumatic heart disease. Our leading causes of death are heart disease, lung cancer and diabetes. We have more diabetes, more respiratory cancer, more asthma admissions, more bronchiolitis admissions, more pneumonia admissions, than anywhere else in the country. This makes us much more likely to require hospitalisation and ICU if we are infected with COVID-19. While it is particularly the case in my region, that is not unique to us… Maori, generally, suffer the highest rates of chronic illness and cancer across Aotearoa. Here we have reason number two that COVID-19 does, in fact, discriminate. Our history of colonialism has borne itself out in our chronic illness rates, making us more vulnerable to infection, and less likely to recover, than your average New Zealand citizen, upon whom the current government guidelines and policies are based upon.
So there will, much likely, be many more of us vying for spaces in the very limited ICU units around the country. Here in my region, our hospital (3 hours away from me) has 6 ICU beds.
According to the 2018 census we have 48,900 people in our region.
That’s one ICU bed for every 8150 people.
If just 5% of that contracts coronavirus (it will probably be upwards of 20% but let’s be conservative for argument’s sake) that makes one ICU bed for every 408 coronavirus cases.
If only 5% of all cases require an ICU bed (as per what has happened elsewhere around the world)… Then what we have is one ICU bed for every 20 coronavirus cases that need ICU. That’s WITHOUT trauma cases, strokes, heart attacks etc that will also require ICU care.
And I have been very, very conservative in those equations.
North of that hospital, as you get beyond our nation’s boundaries and deeper into our heartlands, the health services deteriorate even further. It’s not uncommon to be 2-3 weeks before we get a doctor to our health center for one day, and they are then soon booked solid. Nurses that work for Maori health providers are paid less, and along with being underpaid, are overworked. Consequently, they burn out faster and we have poorer health services. Reason 3 we are discriminated against – the racist health care system disadvantages Maori through inequitable access to health care.
So there we have it, three good reasons why COVID-19 will hit Maori harder. It will in fact discriminate in a multitude of ways.
And what can we do about it? Well, for all the reasons above we need to be pro-active at a whanau, hapu, and iwi level. Here’s what we have chosen to do as a whanau:
We have taken our girls out of school and asked for the next 2 weeks lesson plans. As we saw in Italy, a lot can happen in two weeks. We will reassess every two weeks but I’m guessing this is just the beginning. We are now developing our daily schedule for school time, exercise, and play.
We have discussed how we will approach shopping. This includes minimising the need to shop by:
- Eating from our maara, hunting, fishing, diving
- Shopping online
- Portioning our kai
When we do need to shop, we will likely be prioritising the local 4Square over the trip to town, and again avoiding peak business times.
The pocket hand sanitiser goes with you when you leave the house, and you disinfect regularly while away from home, and straight away when you step in through the front door.
We have asked whanau to call ahead if they wish to visit, and to consider an online video call instead. Anyone who is unwell is asked to stay away. This, we will also review, and are ready to make it a blanket ban on all visits (to be honest we don’t get many visitors where we live anyway, we are quite isolated).
Our acts of isolation and physical distance are not just in concern for ourselves, though – these are acts of aroha for our community and vulnerable whanau, as well.
(This stunning wahine and her love for her people. Ataahua).
We have supplies for at least two weeks for food, cleaning products, and medical supplies. Here is a good site for household preparedness, along with a list of household supplies for self isolation. We also have a generator and fuel backups in both gas and petrol.
We have spoken as a whanau (and in an age appropriate way) about the virus and the changes we need to make, and why.
We arm ourselves with quality information from reputable sources, and steadfastly ignore conspiracy sites/theories.
TIKANGA A WHARE
We all practice regular “TikTok” handwashing (washing your hands for the length of a TikTok) and hand sanitising.
Anyone who comes to visit is asked to sanitise when they come in the door. We have made our own hand sanitisers, and surface spray, and are also disinfecting. Below is the video tutorial on making your own hand sanitiser (You can access the recipe, and the soap and surface spray recipes by clicking on the Facebook icon on the bottom right of this clip).
Here is a good, informative link about disinfectants and surface sprays. We are wiping down anything that is bought from the shop as we have no idea who has handled it, and differing reports (the science still appears out) estimate anything from a few hours to a day or more of time that the virus may survive on a surface.
We commit to keeping our whare light in heart. Screen time is extended. We let them have their time on their devices. We are trying to just make the most out of having more whanau time together. Sharing loads/responsibilities and making sure we have our own “breakaway” time to help manage the stress or anxiety. We are blessed with extensive yards/gardens to hang out in. Make the most of that if you can.
We are keeping healthy, as a whanau. Fresh fruit and vegetables, healthy meals, exercise, fresh air, hydration, and lots of wai-kawakawa (our traditional cure-all drink) to keep our health as well as it can be. All of their regular medicines are stocked (pamol, inhalers etc) and we have their vaporiser on at night. We want to avoid, if possible, engaging our health services which I’m anticipating will be overwhelmed very soon (they are already dysfunctional, overwhelmed and are usually doubly overwhelmed come winter flu season). We certainly want to avoid taking our girls into hospital if possible (for anything), as that will likely be one of the most infectious zones in the near future. So keeping ourselves as healthy as possible to avoid the need to go to hospital or health clinic to start with.
Sort a routine for school/work/housework (which is more important than ever even though I loathe it just like last month) play/exercise and try to stick to it (easy to say on Day 1 huh).
Look after the sleep routine (she says as she stays up late to write this blog ON Day 1).
Here are some precautions you may want to email the Aunties/Uncles about and get the conversation going:
Are there unnecessary bookings at the marae that could be cancelled?
Do you need to consider closing the marae, for the safety of ahi kaa?
Do you have the numbers of ahi kaa that are not immuno-compromised or otherwise vulnerable, to staff your marae if you have a pohiri/whakatau? Do any of them live with immuno-compromised or otherwise vulnerable whanau?
*NOTE: IMMUNO COMPROMISED MEANS Conditions that involve lungs / breathing problems (e.g., asthma, COPD, lung cancer). Heart conditions, particularly chronic cardiovascular disease (e.g., hypertension, congestive heart failure, atrial fibrillation). Conditions that involve compromised immune function, or that require taking immunosuppressant medications (e.g., lupus, arthritis, organ transplantation, some forms of cancer). Other chronic hematologic, hepatic, metabolic, neurologic, neuromuscular, renal, or disorders (e.g., sickle cell anemia, diabetes, muscular dystrophy, kidney disease).
If you don’t have ahi kaa that will be safe (and I’m banking this will apply to most Maori communities) – then are you in fact willing to ask your ahi kaa to take this risk of their own lives, or their whanau that they live with, for carrying out the duties of pohiri/whakatau?
For those that choose continue with hui:
Should these be essential hui only and what qualifies as “essential”?
Who will be responsible for “policing” hand washing and sanitising regimes?
Do you have a surface sanitising plan?
Are you suspending hariru?
Can you message whanau who are unwell, have recently travelled, or are vulnerable (see above), to NOT attend the hui, for their own sake and that of attendees/their whanau/communities?
Can the younger men man the pae in order to further protect the pakeke?
How might the ahi kaa safely shop for catering?
For rural marae/communities: can you message out on your marae page and ask whanau to consider virtual gatherings/catchups rather than coming to visit from town?
Checking in on pakeke – do they need anything picked up from town? Call them on the phone for chats – this is a scary time for them and potentially lonely. Mental and physical health is tightly interwound for our pakeke and loneliness/depression can often lead to poor physical health.
Check in on your whanau and friends too – call each other for chats. There are a lot of us who are scared, unsure, or are missing friends or lovers, or whanau because they are stuck overseas… there are people who have lost loved ones. Call, chat, send love, even just a few words of support in a message can pick someone up for the day.
Here is a good card I’ve seen doing the rounds to offer help in your community. Of course this needs to be done in a way that is safe and minimises physical proximity (kaua e @ mai e pa ana ki te reo, ko te whakaaro te mea nui).
Also just gonna say… in my Nanny’s day, they were very decisive about the protection of their hapu borders. I’m gonna just leave this here:
Moving right along…
Iwi often have political relationships that can be handy at a time like this – how can iwi be leveraging their relationships with ministers and agencies at this time to support hapu in their approaches, and support whanau who are struggling, whilst also securing enhanced support for iwi health and social service providers?
Support for whanau to upskill in virtual hui, or access devices to call their whanau and friends, is a simple, concrete action that can be taken to alleviate the emotional anxiety many will be going through at this time.
They usually also have offices – which will need their own rules/policies developed to protect staff, who are so often our own whanau as well.
Here’s the ever-inspirational Ngati Kahu response that I think gave many iwi/hapu around the country something to think about:
Even though we are self isolating, there are ways we can support each other. Phone calls, remembering to also post light, funny, supportive content on media alongside the natural concern. Try to minimise the panic posting/panic buying/panic stressing. Stay informed from reputable sources. Here is a really great COVID-19 in Aotearoa Facebook page that I’ve found solid advice on so far.
As Indigenous peoples, we have always adapted and survived. We can adapt and survive this too. It won’t last forever, but it is important that we understand our own agency to act, how important it is for us to do what we can, as soon as we can, and to be proactive in our own protection.
Kia kaha ra. Don’t buy all the toilet paper.
Feelings are funny old things aren’t they. They rarely listen to us, are susceptible to all kinds of factors, and especially for women, wind up defining us. Most women, in general, are likely at one point or another experience their emotions being cast as a weakness of character. But like most issues, when you dig deeper than gender, you’ll find there’s another experience entirely that relates to how emotions are used and responded to by white women, in comparison to women of colour.
Most commonly, WOC frustrations peak when we attempt to engage in a discussion about white oppression, or confronting white women about oppressive behavior, and their white tears derail the conversation completely.
More recently this week we have seen another instance where white tears have become a distraction, but in this instance (and it’s one I’ve come across often) – it’s the closely related case of white women’s empathy tears for brown oppression. It’s arguably more frustrating because it hinges on entitlement to feelings whilst still de-centering the most important conversation.
Here we have the very eloquent and impassioned Julia Whaipooti speaking to the rampant racism in the New Zealand justice system, pointing out that Maori with a clean slate are twice as likely to be pulled over and investigated than pakeha, are eight times more likely to use a taser upon Maori than pakeha, and are SEVEN times more likely to be charged than a pakeha who is in exactly the same circumstances. This of course sets Maori on a treadmill that ultimately sees us composing over 50% of the male prison population, over 60% of the women’s prison population, and 70% of the youth prison population. It tears families apart. It throws children into the state abuse system, which in turn leads to a far higher chance of being institutionalized, and having their own children removed too. We are talking about destroyed lives here. We are also talking about clear racism in a sector that is armed with weapons of deadly force, and then placed in Maori communities. We are talking about lives at risk.
What Julia is quite rightly pointing out is that this is not new information, and that Maori are NOT safe. She presents, with scorching eloquence, the truth of the matter that our people DO NOT FEEL SAFE around the police, and her most powerful point is driven home by the fact that there are many Maori women who would rather face violence from their own partner, than the violence of the state.
Powerful truths that we, as Maori, have to live every day, and that Julia Whaipooti laid out with such strength and resolve that it left the room in stunned silence. I wanna say that this was when I first felt really uncomfortable. Julia is a powerful and impassioned speaker, for sure, but the content is hardly surprising – well, it’s hardly surprising for Maori. So that’s where, in this segment, I started to keenly feel my Maoriness, and the media whiteness. Because you can bet your bottom dollar that very few Maori are shocked by those stats.
Hayley Holt, though, was moved to tears by the interview. It was a little confusing as to whether she actually felt entitled to that reaction, as she put it down to hormones rather than a rational emotional response to our oppression, but nonetheless, the media grabbed the moment, and the resulting headlines for this story were overarchingly NOT the obvious injustice of our system. It was not the families being torn apart, or the blatant racism exposed again by JustSpeak.
It was about Hayley’s emotional reaction.
White women’s tears were centered, brown people’s oppression was marginalized.
There is nothing intrinsically wrong, of course, with Hayley having emotions. It’s not her individual FAULT for having an emotional reaction to oppression, but it’s also completely understandable for women of colour to be infuriated with how this played out – and I wish to god more people understood what it means to women of colour when white women cry over brown oppression, because this does not occur in a vacuum, separate from every other instance in our lived history.
What we see, when we see white women’s tears, are all the tears that we are not allowed.
It reminds us of our sisters who have been numbed into tearlessness, watching their men get locked away and their children taken from their arms, but then further punished for showing unacceptable emotion when they face their state oppressors.
In white women’s tears, we see the all powerful call to arms that has rallied their colonial male counterparts to launch to their defence and attack brown women for, usually, just speaking our truth.
We see the unassailable weapon that has been used since time immemorial to silence brown truth and shut down important discussions about injustice against brown people.
We see a tool commonly used in the justice system to get white people acquitted, and brown people convicted.
We see a tactic that is rolled out every day around the world to avoid accountability for ignorant racism.
We see the spotlight stealer, the center of attention, the constant reminder that it takes a white woman caring about us to make our news worthy. The great white marginaliser.
Even the fact that I had to preface this with a note that absolved Hayley of personal blame, is a product of the fact that in this racially biased society, people will rush to defend her, reinforcing the fact that it should be more about about Hayley’s right to feelings, than the media bias that centered them. It’s a testament, in itself, to the distractive power of white women’s tears, that have, across history, flowed so readily, while the support has not.
Let’s hope that the shock and tears that flow as a result of this report, eventuate into more than media bait, and into real and effective support for the dismantling of pakeha systems of oppression over Maori. Call me jaded, (or call it generations of experience) but I doubt somehow doubt it will.
I’ve been watching the events at COP25 in Madrid, as always, am very proud of those representing our Indigenous interests. In particular I am noting Article 6 of the Paris Agreement featuring strongly in the media and wanted to send a shout out to all who are raising their voices on this issue because it’s one that makes me sick with worry.
Seeing it pop up so much has also left me wondering whether many of our whānau here in Aotearoa understand what Article 6 is about, and how this article connects to our whenua, wai and rangi here in Aotearoa.
Bear with me while I connect this up with a little story:
Back in 2017, a few of the cuzzies and I were in the thick of defending our coastline from oil prospectors Statoil (now Equinor) and Chevron. Over the previous year, with the support of our waka Te Matau a Maui, and Greenpeace NZ, we had gathered the support of 83 of our Iwi and hapu (tribal communities) along the eastern seaboard, and along with over 25 thousand signatures of New Zealanders, we took our petition to the United Nations Ocean Summit to present to the Norwegian government as the majority shareholders of Statoil. Our message was clear – we do not want them drilling for oil in our waters, we do not want them drilling for oil at all.
We managed to deliver our message loud and clear, and again we were aided over there, this time with the support of our Indigenous brothers and sisters. Outside the UN, we had our Mohawk and Standing Rock whānau, who had driven so far, to read out to the media the support letter of Chief Arvol Lookinghorse for our campaign.
Inside, our Indigenous Moana brothers and sisters Maureen Penjueli (Pacific Islands Association of Non-Government Organisation) and Julian Aguon (Blue Ocean Law) graciously allowed us space to present our petition to Norway as a part of their UN event, which we did so with the support of our Chumash brother and sister (Mati Waya and Luhui) from the Wishtoyo Foundation. It was an emotional journey, and while Statoil kept its distance, it was only in June of this year, when we heard the official notice that they had surrendered their prospecting permit, that I felt like we could exhale.
Something else happened on that journey as well, another act of solidarity that I want to discuss a bit more.
On the way home, I stopped in to participate in the Oil Refinery Walk – a walk that is organised by the San Francisco Bay Idle No More movement, run by First Nations peoples on Ohlone lands, to raise awareness to the 5 refineries that are splayed across their land. The largest one, the Richmond refinery, is also the largest of the Chevron refineries, and has exploded three times, sending tens of thousands of people to hospital with burns and toxic fume poisoning. It is a continual source of pollution and pain to the local community.
We marched together, past the dead waterways and the bay that had been routinely polluted by these refineries. I listened to elders talk about the ancestral footprint of that land, long gone from physical sight, but still vivid in their spoken histories. We shared our story with them, about Chevron coming to our shores, about us taking to our waka to read them their trespass notice, about our journey to the UN, and the solidarity of our peoples. Even after we left, the SF Idle No More movement took our Tino Rangatiratanga Flag, and printed out our images, and a huge placard of the map of our coastline, and they marched upon the Chevron Refinery to tell them “We know what you are doing in Aotearoa!”.
I was so thankful because truth be told, it’s lonely going to places like the UN. You wish you could take all of your communities with you but it’s so often just you, with their voices, and that is why Indigenous solidarity matters so much in these spaces. They were there for us in our time of need.
It’s these acts of solidarity with our people, our communities and coastline that I think about when we talk about carbon credits. These are the communities who experience the SOURCE POINT destruction of the oil companies that purchase carbon credits. While our forests may absorb some of the carbon from the atmosphere, they do not halt the environmental devastation on the lands of the Ohlone, and for our brothers and sisters to take their time out to fight for us and our coastline, a world away – well I think that deserves some more discussion and thought from us about the carbon credits some of us are providing to the companies who ruin their territories.
Carbon credits have not reduced the amount of emissions from the likes of Chevron. In fact, since the establishment of the carbon market, global emissions have increased. Certainly Chevron continues to extract, and pollute around the world, and abuse human rights while they are at it. The 2012 Richmond fire sent a thick plume of black toxic smoke over the communities and Bay. Our carbon credits did not alleviate that. Nor do they alleviate the disproportionately high rates of cancer and heart disease in the Richmond community, nor the displacement of Indigenous peoples from the Amazon in order to access oil reserves or establish carbon forests.
When I sit in our landblock meetings and I hear us discuss carbon credits as a source of income for our whanau, hapū and Iwi, I can’t help but think about our First Nations whānau and the stand they made for us so that we would not have the oil industry on our coastline, and the carbon credits we sell to the oil industry so that it can stay on theirs. I can’t help but think about the call they have put out to the world to please stop engaging in the carbon market that is ruining their lands and waters at the point source.
The commodification of our sky is being called out again, right now at COP25 in Madrid Spain.
Not surprisingly it’s Indigenous peoples leading that charge. We are, after all, the ones most immediately and worst impacted by carbon markets. These schemes that are responsible for, amongst other things:
- Removing Indigenous peoples from their forest homes
- Removing access for Indigenous peoples to their forest food systems
- Replacing biodiverse native forest with exotic plantation forests
- Devastating waterways and waterbodies with fungicides, herbicides, pesticides, and organic leachate
- Enabling largescale polluters to devastate local ecologies
This list could go on and on, because really – the carbon market is what has allowed oil, gas and coal companies to continue extraction, and these companies in turn are guilty of mass crimes against humanity and the planet. It has allowed the general public to believe that we have a solution to the climate crisis that just hasn’t really kicked in yet.
Here’s the problem though – there’s every likelihood that it will never kick in.
After 30 years of concerted climate action – as a planet we are tracking worse than ever. We have known for 30 years that we need to reduce our emission rates but we have only increased them, and we do NOT have the time up our sleeve to tinker with models that have demonstrated over 3 consecutive decades that they do not work. At what point do we call time on these false solutions? The human race and a good deal of life on this planet is facing an existential crisis and we are behaving as though we can just wiggle the sparkplug and we will be good to go again. Our belief in faulty solutions means simply are not acting urgently enough, or radically enough, to provide our mokopuna with a future.
In a very real sense – it may wind up being the false solutions which pave the way to our complete failure to address the climate crisis.
THIS is why you are seeing Article 6 being brought up again and again in the COP25 talks. It is the foundation of the emissions trading system that has not only failed to halt emissions but has arguably enabled them to increase. The fact that Indigenous peoples are again leading this discussion belies another upsetting fact: Indigenous rights did NOT make it into the body of the Paris Agreement, in spite of the fact that we have demonstrated over successive years that we DO sequester more emissions than anyone else, and we protect more biodiversity than any other group. The return of Indigenous lands and protection of Indigenous rights is a demonstrable climate action that holds significantly more evidence of success than emissions trading, yet it did not feature in the Paris Climate Agreement.
Without a doubt, this is because the United Nations is a collection of colonial states that are 1. controlled by corporate elites and 2. voted in by their colonial populace.
They cannot fathom returning stolen lands back to Indigenous peoples, they cannot conceive of shutting down oil extraction and re-scripting the global and domestic economy in a way that prioritises the needs of Papatuanuku. For this reason we NEED to discuss the inherent racism, colonialism and elitism, that sits at the root of carbon reduction efforts, and center Indigenous voices.
For colonial governments and those who keep them in power, shutting down industries, rescripting economies and returning Indigenous lands are too radical in their approach, and so instead they will continue to tinker with a broken model until we all go over the cliff.
Seems to me that Trump isn’t the only climate-denier we have to deal with.
Which brings me back to our land-blocks…. and I know this is not a popular, or easy discussion for us to have. Particularly in my own region – where our hilly back country means that income for our whānau comes in the form of farming or forestry (both of which hold impacts for our waterways) – or carbon farming. It’s tempting for us to turn a blind eye to the fact that emissions trading enables climate change but when we do that – when we turn our back on our Indigenous brothers and sisters who have defended our rights, when we turn our back on the science that is shouting at us that carbon trading does not work, when we fail to have the conversation about what a failed emissions reduction effort mean for our mokopuna – when we put off the HARD work of radical change for the sake of some money in our pocket – are we really any better than Trump and other climate deniers?
The very, very least we can do is have the full conversation about WHO we are sacrificing, without their consent, in order to make a buck in the carbon market. At least, then we are facing up to our own decisions.
Image credit: David Tong
I have seen Indigenous practice in its fullest, richest sense, modelling for the world where we need to go, how we need to live, in order to have a future. I’ve seen the outcomes it provides. Our biodiversity and carbon sequestration wins are not occurring as a result of us chasing a carbon market, they are occurring where we are being pono to our ancestral responsibilities. I don’t just believe, I KNOW our Indigenous ancestors left, within us, all that is required as a value system to bring our planet back from the brink of no-return and secure a future for our mokopuna. I’ve marched the refinery corridor with First Nations brothers and sisters who still carry radical hope for a clean, healthy future for their communities. They have walked that hope for us all until their feet are sore and blistered.
Perhaps it’s time that we started walking our full potential too.
Here are some powerful Indigenous voices on carbon markets and article 6:
and *HERE is a great critical resource on carbon markets.
Unsurprisingly, the return of the Endeavour has been the centerpiece in the TUIA250 Cook celebrations. The protests have thus far been effective enough to raise awareness and expand the conversation, but of course not halt the multimillion dollar juggernaut. Naturally, those who are profiting extreme amounts from the exercise are quick to defend it, to present it as a unifying, beneficial, culturally rich affair. The most common retorts to the protests are that we either don’t understand, or are too selfish to see, the “bigger picture” of how beneficial TUIA250 really is. In fact if you look at their behaviour overall, there are some hallmarks that align very closely with that of a narcissist abuser. I’m raising this because like interpersonal relationships, there is often confusion, a lack of clarity and awareness around whether or not we are being abused. Sometimes it takes a friend to point out the languaging and behaviour that is abuse.
Your partner doesn’t have to exhibit all of these traits in order to be a narcissistic abuser – but if they are experiencing some/most of them, you should probably, at the very least, tread with caution, but better yet consider leaving.
As you can see, though – TUIA250 comfortably exhibits all of them.