Tina Ngata

We’re now 3 weeks after Cyclone Gabrielle hit, hot on the heels of Cyclone Hale, and interspersed with a series of other severe storm patterns which have, collectively, heralded the arrival of climate consequence for Aotearoa. As with every natural disaster, there is the event, and then the trauma which sets in over time as you come to terms with that has occurred, and what has been lost. We are programmed to be partial to normalcy, and there’s only just so much of a break from normalcy that we can take (honestly read that link it’s very good). So for many, returning to a sense of normality is the swiftest pathway to avoid a complete breakdown.

And then there is what comes after the event – which can often include a whole other form of injustice. Scammers impersonating officials. Organisations who will fundraise but spend significant portions on administration. Insurance companies that don’t pay out. Government agencies who tell you over and over again that they are there for you, but none of it amounts to any kind of timely material assistance. Mixed messages as people are told to not send goods when there is still clear need within the community. The frustration for whanau in need as they see millions of dollars being discussed in the media, yet none of it arriving for their assistance. The burnout for those supporting the community, while they themselves have lost everything. For a good many, they have just gotten busy with the return to normality themselves, but still – the weather itself has become deeply triggering, and rainclouds are glared at like unwelcome visitors.

It’s important we acknowledge that for many whanau, the injustice is still playing out every day. There’s a lot that needs to be reflected on about our response, but what I want to talk about today is a growing discourse I’m hearing in meetings, and reports, and on social regarding whānau Māori reaching out for support. The narrative is generally along the lines that whānau Māori are abusing the system of care, and reaching out unnecessarily. I’ve seen and heard of this manifesting in many places in a range of ways including:

• Whānau in need being declined necessary items while items are stockpiled in case of “future need”

• Whānau being refused care from MSD because they have evacuated and being told over the phone that “the marae should be taking care of all you need”

• Relief staff reflecting at hui and in casual conversations that whānau are being greedy, “double dipping” or asking for help unnecessarily

• Whānau who have reached out to other organisations for help being berated by relief staff

• People who are offering help being turned away by recovery representatives who say it’s no longer necessary

• Comments from recovery staff that Māori are “tough”, “resilient” and can do without.

• A preoccupation with “doubling up” in care or provisions

• Social media commentary about all the “freebies” whānau Māori are receiving

All of these instances circle around a theme that whānau Māori are taking advantage of the system, which is a longstanding racist trope aimed at whānau Māori. My personal experience on the ground, is that the opposite is the larger truth – our whānau are more often than not too whakamā to reach out, and asking for help is very difficult for them. I have not once yet heard these types of “system abuser” narratives circulating around pākehā communities or being applied to whānau pākehā who are reaching out for help.

I am not at all suggesting that there are NO instances of people who are taking advantage of the system, but it’s important that all of us involved in relief and recovery consider the types of narratives we are applying, and how these narratives function in colonial systems. The narrative of Māori being system-abusers is empowered by colonial racist discourse which has, for multiple generations, painted Māori as “gravy train riders”. It’s connected, at a deeper level, to the concept that Māori, like all Indigenous peoples, are destined for dispossession. When you suggest that Māori are abusing the flood relief system, that narrative is super-charged within our society by the already-present falsehood that Māori are system-abusers. A great number of us are pleading with whānau to please, don’t be whakamā, let us know how we can help, but our voices are drowned out when the systemically-charged words are heard about people double-dipping and free-loading – and if I’m hearing it, you bet whānau in need are hearing it and it’s making them even less likely to reach out.

Crown systems, in particular, are very prone to negative assumptions about Māori. The Ministry of Social Development has, for a long time, created entire systems and policies that assume whānau in need (and in particular whānau Māori) are not *really* in need, and are in fact abusing the system. In a broader sense, numerous Crown agencies have policies and systems built around negative assumptions about Māori – and then they employ Māori to administer those systems, hoping that this will negate the racism.

I’ve yet to see clear evidence that there are large numbers of whānau reaching out for help unnecessarily, and I would much rather the scrutiny be placed over some of the organisations who have much less oversight and are dealing with far greater quantities of money and resources.

So what *does* work? Well from what I’ve seen, the more grounded the response is, the better it is. Hierarchical, regimented, centralised systems that are tightly controlled by the Crown are the most likely to contain systemic racism. Devolving management, power and resource down to as localised a space as possible. Supporting community response – not just township by township but also road by road, valley by valley – because as we are fast learning, the true first responders are your neighbours, they are the people who *can* reach you when everything falls down. What else works, is manaaki, and our traditional networks have that in spades.

We have a long way to go yet, we will be carrying each other through the fallout of these floods, and all of the various stages of mamae and loss –  and through further climate events, and the disasters that follow. No regimented system of rules is as important or as effective as our ability to care for each other.

*Paraphrased from a survivor of the 1970 Peruvian earthquake “First the quake, then the disaster”.