Indigenous Knowledge and Colonial Violence in Kaipara Moana, New Zealand

By Steve Lemeshko

The view of Kaipara Moana. Credit: russellstreet, CC BY-SA 2.0.

In the recent article “(Un)Heard Voices of Ecosystem Degradation: Stories from the Nexus of Settler-Colonialism and Slow Violence,” Leane Makey et al. (2022) explore the impact of settler colonialism on environmental degradation through the case study of Kaipara Moana, New Zealand.

Kaipara Moana is the largest estuarine harbor in New Zealand, 1.5 hours away from Aukland. It is characterized by unique ecological, cultural, and spiritual significance to Ngāti Whātua, a Māori iwi (tribal community). Historically, marginalized Indigenous communities, like those connected to Kaipara Moana, have been disproportionally more likely to experience the slow violence of colonialism, especially in the practices of the radical transformation of the environment that erase the ecological—and, with that, Indigenous—history of the place. In the case of Kaipara Moana, this delayed violence manifests in negative environmental impacts, such as toxic sediment accumulation, water and air pollution, and biodiversity loss.

The identity, livelihoods, and ways of life of Ngāti Whātua are centered around the relationships with the “more-than-human kin” and interwoven with taiao (natural world), where humans bear a responsibility to care for it. In the mid-eighteenth century, however, colonial rule rapidly spread across New Zealand, bringing with it a Western worldview that sharply contrasted with the one of Māori. Under this new perspective, the "more-than-human kin" were reduced to mere resources to be extracted and exploited, while Māori knowledge and customary practices were marginalized and excluded. Progress for the settlers meant not only dispossessing and displacing people and leaving them to adjust to the changing environment but also removing wahi tapu (sacred sites), burning lands, clearing forests, draining wetlands, and introducing non-native species. Perpetuated not only by the state but also by colonial culture as a whole, colonial methods of governing and managing the environment led to what authors call “settler colonial ecological violence”—i.e., ecocide.

Now, Kaipara Moana is in a state of ecological crisis, with scientists labeling the harbor as heavily polluted as early as 1976. Recent environmental damage has been further aggravated by increased industrial agricultural intensification, such as increased fertilizer and pesticide use, herd sizes, and supplementary feed. These contaminants are carried by rainfall into the waterways, polluting and degrading the Moana. Urban development, both residential and commercial, also contributes to this runoff. As the authors put it,

In 2022, its ecosystems, habitats and species remain in a state of ongoing ecological crises, being physically and structurally altered and destroyed by settler colonial-led activities for more than a century. The wairua [spirit] and mauri [life force] that resides within and between Kaipara’s terrestrial, freshwater, and coastal ecosystems, and the Māori people of Kaipara, are so badly disrupted, fragmented, and degraded that some mana whenua [people with authority over the land] are uncertain if the wairua and mauri can ever be restored.

The degradation of wairua and mauri shows not only the physical deterioration of the land and water but also significant eco-social disruptions between Indigenous peoples and taiao. Adding a layer of complexity to these environmental challenges is the widespread issue of racial discrimination, with an impact on both individuals and institutions.

Pou Kaitiaki (guardian post) in Ngāti Whātua. Credit: Lee Taylor, CC BY 2.0.

Within the research, slow violence is a conceptual framework used to visualize the environmental degradation of Kaipa Moana—a form of colonial violence targeted at nature and its people. This framework enables researchers to examine the complex, layered, and slowly unfolding structure of violence as a unified whole. Central to the research methodology is “Thinking with Kaipara,” which explicitly acknowledges te ao Māori. The researchers utilized the unorthodox (for academic research) way of representing storytelling and story-work practices to gather data through conversations about lived experiences rather than standard surveys or interviews. This method offers a unique and deeply immersive approach by engaging all the senses to detect ecological changes. This approach is also unique in the use of narrative empathy: the stories of Ngāti Whātua people are both insightful and poignant, filled with emotions, details, and connections to the places and cultural moments they cherish. Such stories help us develop compassion, so we invite you to explore these insights further by reading part 5 of the research paper, pages 11-20.

The personal accounts disrupt the predominant scientific and legal narratives, reveal the deep connection between the land and cultural heritage, and highlight the need to include Indigenous knowledge in environmental management and restoration efforts. Prioritizing inequitable power structures perpetuates toxic geographies and environmental injustices, so such work successfully challenges the dominant ideas of ecosystem-based management and advocates for a more compassionate and relational understanding of nature and its role for the people around it. This decolonizing approach not only illuminates the hidden slow violence but also encourages the inclusion of local Indigenous knowledge in the development of just and sustainable environmental practices.

The full citation of the article is:

Makey, Leane, et al. “(Un)heard voices of ecosystem degradation: Stories from the nexus of settler-colonialism and slow violence.” Sustainability, vol. 14, no. 22, 8 Nov. 2022, pp. 14672, doi:10.3390/su142214672.

For further reading on slow violence, see the following articles:

Indigenous Land Rights and Colonial Violence in Belize / September 12, 2024

Documenting Coal Mining in Jharia, India, through Photography / May 5, 2024

Understanding Habituation: Why We Overlook Horrors / March 27, 2024