How can non-Māori talk about postcoloniality?

Recently I was told the word colonisation was too academic, that it’s not appropriate to use when talking with environment and recreation groups.  That’s not my experience, in fact I hear people in recreation and environment groups talking about colonisation a lot more these days.  People I’ve been speaking with are aware that the places they enjoy exploring have been degraded by or are threatened by the way we live in Aotearoa New Zealand (A-NZ), and our legacies of unjust land appropriation and use. 

Instead, what I hear from people who care about the land and seascapes of A-NZ is the query of whether it’s appropriate for non-Māori to talk about decolonisation, to dream of a postcolonial future (a time when A-NZ no-longer struggles to overcome its colonial history).  I think it can be ok, indeed as tangata tiriti (settler people in relationship with tangata whenua because of commitments made to Te Tiriti o Waitangi) we MUST, but with caution, with knowledge, and in the right context.  And to be clear, it is up to Māori to tell their own stories and define ways of thinking and being in their own postcolonial reality. Making a useful contribution at the right time to address legacies of unjust land appropriation requires both understanding and great care. I am conscious to avoid piggybacking on Māori decolonisation.  I also prepare myself for when I am told I made the wrong call and spoke when it was indeed not appropriate.  I think being prepared to get things wrong, and learn from our mistakes, is also part of the process of being tangata tiriti. 

The release of He Puapua in 2021 came with an expectation that we in A-NZ are mature enough to work thoughtfully through the challenges and opportunities this report presents. I am inspired by the wero (challenge) from rangatahi (the younger generation) that the fight to be Māori is not one their mokopuna (grandchildren) must face. He Puapua puts Papatūānuku at the forefront, to restore her rightful place to care for Ranginui, for humankind, for Māori and for all living things. 

Management of biosecurity threats to forests and indigenous trees needs to address the legacy of colonising practices within the biosecurity system. This is urgent and challenging work in the context of mobile tree pathogens, investment in climate mitigation through tree planting, and greater legal recognition of Indigenous rights and those of trees. The need for shared, collective responsibility for trees and treescapes has long been recognised by many involved in biosecurity; however, it’s a practice which remains underdeveloped. 

Turning ideas into practice is the focus of the Postcolonial Biosecurity Possibilities project. We support the thinking, organising and operationalising required by helping people to pay attention to their everyday practices; the opportunities which arise each day to step away from colonising towards decolonising tree protection (this is the postcoloniality we are exploring).

So how might we non-Māori researchers based both in Aotearoa New Zealand and the United Kingdom talk about postcoloniality? 

We look at the privileges, invitations and challenges which opened the opportunities for each of us to be involved in this research. Acknowledging systemic trauma whilst addressing power asymmetries and ongoing colonising practices of science-policy, our work promotes understanding that politics is not just about governments and political parties. 

When we talk about methods with colleagues and collaborators, we draw attention to the politics of knowledge production. Critical for the care of trees is robust knowledge of how the politics of methods is enabling and constraining the biosecurity and biodiversity A-NZ requires. 

Opportunities for more careful tree protection emerge when we talk about colonial legacies.

By examining our contexts of knowledge production, we are learning how settings (physical and cultural) influence our roles and responsibilities. This enables reflexive action.  Rather than assigning value to nature based on its utility, we are seeing biosecurity and biodiversity actors as more able to work with and in relationships across systems of tree protection.  Knowledge of trees and their pathogens then, is not separated from its origins in sociocultural conditions but anchored within it, it becomes biocultural.  We are understanding how our positionality influences colonising and de-colonising practices. In doing so, we are finding that postcolonial possibilities lie in the concepts, spaces, relationships, and practices we are working with.  

To speak as non-Māori about postcoloniality is our response to gifts from kaupapa Māori scholarship.

This social science contribution to biosecurity has the potential to reconnect tree systems and human systems both in place and conceptually through research and management practices. To speak as Pākehā, Tauiwi and international collaborators about postcoloniality is our response to gifts from kaupapa Māori scholarship.  We seek more ethical ways of working with multiple values and ways of knowing trees and pathogens. 

So, I think I’ll keep having conversations about colonisation with environment and recreation groups. These are not just academic; I see them as a responsibility and a pathway for better care of the ngāhere (forests). Since you’ve read this far, I look forward to continuing this conversation with you in other fora one day soon.