Climate Strategy as Bicultural Journey
Silvia Purdie, July 2023
In 1872 my father’s grandfather, Las Lassen, left his home in Denmark, alone, aged 17, and joined the second Scandinavian migrant ship to New Zealand. As they trudged through the mud along the banks of the Manawatū River the new settlers were met by Rangitāne rangatira Te Peeti Te Aweawe at Rangiotū. Te Peeti had gathered a koha for them: a large pile of potatoes and pumpkins, as both food and seed. He gave this to them with words of welcome and one request: that they would return the favour to Māori in need.
This story stands for my family as a pou of identity and belonging. It matters to me that we were welcomed to this land. And I feel keenly Te Peeti’s charge to ‘pay it forward’. These are points on my map of bicultural journey, which are as important in the face of climate change as ever before. I work with community organisations on sustainability and climate strategy. And I passionately believe that care for the environment cannot be a separate category from upholding Māori rangatiratanga and honouring the Treaty of Waitangi.
Las Lassen arrived in the Manawatu with a piece of paper: a map marking his land allocation. This was issued by the NZ government, which gained the right to sell land through Te Tiriti. We are Tangata Tiriti. Our relationship with this whenua is founded on Te Tiriti. But Les’s relationship with land was very different from Te Peeti’s. He owned it, all by himself. He set about clearing it, cutting the ngahere and using the timber for fences and buildings. He did a good job: the original barn still stands across the road from Whakarongo School. Eventually he achieved grass and sheep and roses and intergenerational wealth.
Unfortunately the assumptions and strategies of Western colonisation have tracked outward to completely devastate the planet. More and more forests have been cleared and swamps drained. Las’s handsaw has been replaced by massive machines, all burning fossil fuels. We Pākehā carry the burden of our role in causing the climate crisis. It is all too easy for us to cling on to the benefits and pay forward the costs. A bicultural journey of sustainability requires of us some tough inner work through the discomfort of truth of privilege and shame, both in relation to Māori and in relation to whenua.
In order to accept the gift of pumpkins and potatoes the settlers had to unload one of the carts and leave some possessions behind at Rangiotū. Unfortunately, before they could get back to collect them, the Manawatū River flooded and their things were washed away. I’m fascinated by this detail of the story. My heart aches for those who lost their treasures and link with home. And it rings strangely real for our time. What will be washed away? What must we relinquish in order to receive what will sustain us?
Pointers for a Bicultural Approach to Climate Strategy
I refuse to talk about ‘principles’: sharply defined abstractions will not help us here. We need tohu: signs to point us along a journey. We must share from the heart and step in authenticity. We need relational, even vulnerable, strategy, that challenges assumptions of who is in charge. So, what are we learning about integrating our bicultural commitments with our emerging sustainability and climate change commitments? I confess my western instincts are taking over and requiring a numbered list – apologies!
1. Firstly, we must look back. We must find who we are and where we are by knowing where we have come from. My father was not interested in his Danish ancestry. He grew up speaking English and expecting everyone else to speak English. I have had to go back and listen to older stories. Climate change has a whakapapa that we are part of. It cannot be solved by strategies that ignore the past. Yes we can calculate and offset carbon emissions but a bicultural sustainability journey is far longer and richer than technical action plans.
2. This is a pathway of reciprocal relationship. Chief Te Aweawe invited the settlers into a relationship of obligation, which expresses a deep spiritual truth: as we have been gifted so we must give. Whanaungatanga. Whether or not we are connected by ancestry we can form whānau and be community, based on an open reciprocity rather than individualistic transaction: pay it forward. We Pākehā are discovering what Māori always knew: that this includes the natural world. We are connected with all other living things, with earth below and sky above, in reciprocal relationships of obligation.
3. Manaakitanga. This is expressed in practical care, for manuhiri, friends and strangers, and for our environment. As Taiao has sustained for us so we must care for Taiao. A bicultural approach to sustainability and climate frames our actions in terms of loving care. We manaaki the whenua by putting less rubbish into the land. We manaaki our people by growing food and improving the biodiversity of waterways.
4. Wāhi, local places. In my experience, Pākeha are quick to think in generalised abstractions and Māori are quick to think in grounded specifics. A bicultural sustainability journey needs both. The challenge for organisations who understand their kaupapa purely in human terms is to see the places around them. In my work I ask: where do your clients and staff go outside? What places matter to you? How could your organisation enhance the mauri, the life of those places?
5. I could go on but I’ll finish with the power of metaphor. Another gross generalisation: western thinking is linear, indigenous thinking spirals and twists and curls. The danger with imported climate mitigation and adaptation models is that they can be agents of colonisation. I have every respect for accountants and insurance risk assessors who are driving climate action globally. But this will not work for us. It will not inspire and equip community resilience. It is up to us to re-imagine climate action through narrative and symbolism. Mātauranga Māori is vital: not to be appropriated by Pākehā but as a model of how to know things in ways that motivate and sustain. Climate strategy in a bicultural framework enables us all to tell our story and express our values and make meaning. Use karakia and waiata, art and poetry. Find the metaphors that speak to the heart of what you care about.
Nō reira, every encouragement for the journey.
Gud velsigne dig.
Mā te Atua koe e manaaki.
This story stands for my family as a pou of identity and belonging. It matters to me that we were welcomed to this land. And I feel keenly Te Peeti’s charge to ‘pay it forward’. These are points on my map of bicultural journey, which are as important in the face of climate change as ever before. I work with community organisations on sustainability and climate strategy. And I passionately believe that care for the environment cannot be a separate category from upholding Māori rangatiratanga and honouring the Treaty of Waitangi.
Las Lassen arrived in the Manawatu with a piece of paper: a map marking his land allocation. This was issued by the NZ government, which gained the right to sell land through Te Tiriti. We are Tangata Tiriti. Our relationship with this whenua is founded on Te Tiriti. But Les’s relationship with land was very different from Te Peeti’s. He owned it, all by himself. He set about clearing it, cutting the ngahere and using the timber for fences and buildings. He did a good job: the original barn still stands across the road from Whakarongo School. Eventually he achieved grass and sheep and roses and intergenerational wealth.
Unfortunately the assumptions and strategies of Western colonisation have tracked outward to completely devastate the planet. More and more forests have been cleared and swamps drained. Las’s handsaw has been replaced by massive machines, all burning fossil fuels. We Pākehā carry the burden of our role in causing the climate crisis. It is all too easy for us to cling on to the benefits and pay forward the costs. A bicultural journey of sustainability requires of us some tough inner work through the discomfort of truth of privilege and shame, both in relation to Māori and in relation to whenua.
In order to accept the gift of pumpkins and potatoes the settlers had to unload one of the carts and leave some possessions behind at Rangiotū. Unfortunately, before they could get back to collect them, the Manawatū River flooded and their things were washed away. I’m fascinated by this detail of the story. My heart aches for those who lost their treasures and link with home. And it rings strangely real for our time. What will be washed away? What must we relinquish in order to receive what will sustain us?
Pointers for a Bicultural Approach to Climate Strategy
I refuse to talk about ‘principles’: sharply defined abstractions will not help us here. We need tohu: signs to point us along a journey. We must share from the heart and step in authenticity. We need relational, even vulnerable, strategy, that challenges assumptions of who is in charge. So, what are we learning about integrating our bicultural commitments with our emerging sustainability and climate change commitments? I confess my western instincts are taking over and requiring a numbered list – apologies!
1. Firstly, we must look back. We must find who we are and where we are by knowing where we have come from. My father was not interested in his Danish ancestry. He grew up speaking English and expecting everyone else to speak English. I have had to go back and listen to older stories. Climate change has a whakapapa that we are part of. It cannot be solved by strategies that ignore the past. Yes we can calculate and offset carbon emissions but a bicultural sustainability journey is far longer and richer than technical action plans.
2. This is a pathway of reciprocal relationship. Chief Te Aweawe invited the settlers into a relationship of obligation, which expresses a deep spiritual truth: as we have been gifted so we must give. Whanaungatanga. Whether or not we are connected by ancestry we can form whānau and be community, based on an open reciprocity rather than individualistic transaction: pay it forward. We Pākehā are discovering what Māori always knew: that this includes the natural world. We are connected with all other living things, with earth below and sky above, in reciprocal relationships of obligation.
3. Manaakitanga. This is expressed in practical care, for manuhiri, friends and strangers, and for our environment. As Taiao has sustained for us so we must care for Taiao. A bicultural approach to sustainability and climate frames our actions in terms of loving care. We manaaki the whenua by putting less rubbish into the land. We manaaki our people by growing food and improving the biodiversity of waterways.
4. Wāhi, local places. In my experience, Pākeha are quick to think in generalised abstractions and Māori are quick to think in grounded specifics. A bicultural sustainability journey needs both. The challenge for organisations who understand their kaupapa purely in human terms is to see the places around them. In my work I ask: where do your clients and staff go outside? What places matter to you? How could your organisation enhance the mauri, the life of those places?
5. I could go on but I’ll finish with the power of metaphor. Another gross generalisation: western thinking is linear, indigenous thinking spirals and twists and curls. The danger with imported climate mitigation and adaptation models is that they can be agents of colonisation. I have every respect for accountants and insurance risk assessors who are driving climate action globally. But this will not work for us. It will not inspire and equip community resilience. It is up to us to re-imagine climate action through narrative and symbolism. Mātauranga Māori is vital: not to be appropriated by Pākehā but as a model of how to know things in ways that motivate and sustain. Climate strategy in a bicultural framework enables us all to tell our story and express our values and make meaning. Use karakia and waiata, art and poetry. Find the metaphors that speak to the heart of what you care about.
Nō reira, every encouragement for the journey.
Gud velsigne dig.
Mā te Atua koe e manaaki.
