Ma¯ ori conservation lessons
Scientists say the best way to protect forests and fight climate change is to give indigenous people expanded land rights, writes Laura Goodall.
In the Ma¯ oriland Hub in O¯ taki, north of Wellington, an exhibition details how bad climate change will get for locals in the Ka¯ piti Horowhenua region, where the frequency of heavy rainfall, flooding, erosion and landslides is already on the rise.
It includes a striking set of maps that draw on Ma¯ ori knowledge systems of whakapapa (genealogy), hı¯koi (walking) and ko¯ rero tuku iho (ancestral knowledge) in combination with scientific data and intuitive design, to show what the local landscape will look like 30 and 100 years from now.
It’s part of a Massey University project co-led by Professor Huhana Smith (Nga¯ ti Tukorehe, Nga¯ ti Raukawa ki Te Tonga) that aims to combine knowledge from Ma¯ ori researchers, architects, artists and scientists.
Huhana explains that climate change is not being communicated in a way that relates to the Ma¯ ori communities who are most at risk from its impacts. This has a knock-on effect on national vulnerability, so her project seeks to forge a new way of sharing knowledge about climate change, based on ‘‘ma¯ tauranga’’.
In the Western tradition, science (from the Latin word for knowledge) is a systematic body of knowledge built on our observations of the world, constantly tested and refined and used to make all kinds of decisions.
Ma¯ tauranga is the body of traditional and contemporary knowledge about the world – both physical and spiritual – held by Ma¯ ori. It is also the process by which information is observed, tested, interpreted, built upon and handed down. It is inseparable from Ma¯ ori culture, values and beliefs. Ma¯ ori consider themselves part of nature and within it, and ma¯ tauranga reflects this.
This knowledge was developed over millennia and brought here hundreds of years ago by Polynesian explorers, with successive generations of Ma¯ ori continually adding to it. Because it dates so far back, ma¯ tauranga can reveal things about Aotearoa – including what its climate was like before Europeans arrived – that science alone cannot.
Around the world, scientists are increasingly looking to work with indigenous communities on climate change initiatives. A large-scale report that sought to quantify the contribution of indigenous forest guardians in 37 tropical countries concluded that the cheapest and most efficient way to protect forests and sequester carbon was to protect or expand the land rights of indigenous people.
At last year’s Asia-Pacific Climate Change conference in Manila, speakers from Indonesia, Vanuatu, Sri Lanka, Maldives, and the Philippines discussed the merits of coupling data with the kind of knowledge held by indigenous communities to develop policies that are ‘‘local to global’’.
SCIENCE MEETS MA¯ TAURANGA
In New Zealand, Niwa, Lincoln University, Massey University, and Landcare Research have all added ma¯ tauranga strands to their work, and the government’s Deep South Challenge, which will allocate more ma¯ tauranga funding in July, currently has eight Maori-led projects on the go. Together these represent the largest ever Ma¯ ori-led research into climate change.
Dr Jane Richardson, Massey University’s Sustainability Project Manager and Research Portfolio Co-ordinator at Manaaki Whenua Landcare Research, says that ma¯ tauranga has broadened her mind. ‘‘At first I found this project challenging as I had to learn how to adopt a more unstructured, multidisciplinary way of thinking,’’ she says.
‘‘As a scientist, I’m trained to think in a very structured, linear way with quite rigid planning and methodology. But the greater fluidity of ma¯ tauranga creates space for ideas and answers to emerge.’’
Climate scientist Professor Martin Manning at Victoria University recalls the
first time he saw the value of having different perspectives, at a meeting for developing a major international scientific report on climate change.
‘‘We had to decide the most important questions to cover,’’ he says. ‘‘Some of us said that it was cloud height changing, others said that the fate of the Amazon forest was critical, and so on. But then a scientist from Vancouver said this was all minor compared to the real question, which was how society responds to major changes. There was a bit of a stunned silence, because most of us had never thought about that before.’’
Climate scientists are turning to indigenous communities, partly because they have often been in the same place for centuries. ‘‘Indigenous people who live in really cold places like Alaska are talking about unusual changes in their environment – like how local lakes are thawing out much faster than they used to,’’ says Dr Pauline Harris (Nga¯ ti Kuhungunu, Rongomaiwahine), a lecturer at Victoria University who chairs the Society of Ma¯ ori Astronomy Research and Traditions (SMART). ‘‘When I heard this, I started to wonder whether Ma¯ ori communities might be seeing similar changes in our environment too.’’
LISTENING TO THE LAND
Harris and her team of researchers are visiting iwi and hapu¯ throughout the country to capture ma¯ tauranga about many different plant and animal activities – such as feeding, reproducing and hibernating – to find out if these are now happening earlier or later than in the past. ‘‘We’re asking wha¯ nau if they’ve noticed anything changing in places like forests over the last 50 years, capturing this using voice recorders and writing it down,’’ she says.
Animal and plant activities take cues from the environment, such as how long the sun is in the sky, what temperature the air is, and what phase the moon is in. If something changes that causes a shift in the timing of even just one plant or animal activity, such as po¯ hutukawa blooming, this can affect other plants and animals, such as bees.
‘‘If you don’t look and you don’t know that something is being affected, then you can’t help,’’ Harris explains. ‘‘You’ve got to know about it to know what to do about it.’’
Ma¯ ori have a deep understanding of what wildlife activities happen when, and how these activities synchronise with the Sun, Moon and stars throughout the year. They have used this knowledge to create the maramataka – the Ma¯ ori calendar – by which they also plan activities such as planting, hunting and fishing. When the ko¯ whai blooms, for example, this is a sign for some communities that it’s time to plant the ku¯ mara.
SECURING SUSTAINABLE FOOD
Liliana Clarke (Nga¯ ti Porou, Waikato, Te Rarawa, Ngapuhi) is a maramataka specialist at SMART, working on the same project as Harris.
‘‘The maramataka is not just for sustenance but also travelling, cultural activities and rituals, and predicting energy levels for certain activities and species. It’s something that we live our entire lives by,’’ she says. ‘‘It’s also used in more contemporary ways, such as sporting activities or following a mar a mat aka inspired diet and regime .’’
Clarke adds that a lot of people are starting to go back to having maramataka-
based food gardens, or ma¯ ra kai, because they want local, sustainable food, which supermarkets aren’t supplying.
There is potential for ma¯ tauranga and science to work together on making largerscale food production more sustainable, particularly as climate change alters the environment of many crop-growing regions.
‘‘Some landowners are starting to use the maramataka to grow certified organic food that they then go on to sell,’’ she says.
A few years ago Clarke and students at Te Whare Wa¯ nanga o Awanuia¯ rangi, where she was lecturing, ran controlled field trials where they planted one corn or bean seed each day at the same time and in identical conditions for 30 days.
While some plants sprouted, others did not, and they could clearly see which had been planted during the Moon phases in the maramataka that were known to be less favourable for planting.
‘‘Using the maramataka is a sustainable way of farming because it helps to conserve energy and boost efficiency,’’ Clarke explains. ‘‘It is inefficient to go out to harvest every day when you could just go out on a few specific days in the maramataka and get a better harvest.’’
READING THE SIGNS OF OUR TIME
Dr Apanui Skipper (Te Wha¯ nau-a-Apanui, Nga¯ ti Tamatera¯ , Nga¯ ti Raukawa) and Niwa scientist Darren King (Nga¯ ti Raukawa) have been capturing knowledge from Ma¯ ori communities about signs in the environment that can be used to make short-term and long-term weather forecasts. Their most recent work is with Nga¯ i Tahu in the South Island.
‘‘The weather and environment is very different there compared to the Coromandel and Eastern Bay of Plenty where we researched earlier, so it’s important we capture knowledge from that region too,’’ Skipper says.
Ma¯ ori weather forecasting uses the maramataka and involves paying attention to animal behaviours and plant activities that happen when specific weather patterns, such as heavy rainfall or strong winds, are imminent. It also includes atmospheric indicators – such as the shape of volcanic plumes, cloud formations and Sun or Moon halos – along with specific smells and sounds, such as a particular bird cry.
Skipper explains that Ma¯ ori weather predictions are, like science, consensusbased – where the more indicators that point to a particular scenario, such as a long hot dry summer, the more confident the prediction and the more prepared communities can be.
Experts in weather forecasting once could predict flooding months ahead with such accuracy that it makes European meteorology look error-prone. But since Europeans arrived, much of that knowledge has been lost, along with many indicators – such as trees that have been cut down.
Skipper also asked communities whether they had noticed any changes over time and what they thought about climate change.
‘THINGS ARE OUT OF WHACK’
‘‘Everybody I interviewed agreed without a shadow of a doubt that climate change is definitely here,’’ he says. ‘‘The weather now is different from what their grandparents and great-grandparents had seen. Back then, the extreme weather events were predictable, short and sharp – but now they’re a lot wilder.
‘‘They’d say things like, ‘You know, when I was a kid, winter was winter, spring was spring and summer was summer, but now you don’t know what’s happening when – it’s all higgledy-piggledy and things are out of whack.’ Now they’ve got longer, hotter summers with shorter, milder winters.’’
Kauma¯ tua told Skipper about seeing baby tı¯tı¯ (muttonbirds) starving because their parents cannot find food in the warmer water. Others pointed out that years ago, it would have been impossible to grow kiwifruit and grapes in Invercargill, yet these fruit are now thriving that far south.
Pests are thriving, too. ‘‘When you’ve got longer summers, you get double flowerings – when plants bloom twice – you get a lot of chicks, and then a lot more birdsong,’’ Apanui explains. ‘‘But unfortunately what’s good for birdsong is also good for predators – and they’re seeing an explosion of rats, stoats and others.’’
Climate change is also creating more favourable conditions for the spread of pests and diseases into new areas. Researchers are in a race against time to stop kauri dieback before it completely obliterates our unique kauri forests. If kauri trees disappear, then so do all the other plants and animals that depend on them, along with our ability to walk, hunt, camp and relax among them.
THE SCOURGE OF KAURI DIEBACK
Kauri dieback is caused by a tiny water mould called Phytophthora agathidicida, whose microscopic spores are able to ‘‘sniff out’’ kauri trees and then swim through streams and wet soil to find them. Once the spores have burrowed their way into the roots, they are almost impossible to detect and the tree cannot be saved.
After scientists tested 120 antimicrobial chemicals and found only three that worked across multiple stages of the disease, and none that were suitable, they decided to try a new approach.
Matua Kevin Prime (Nga¯ ti Hine) and soil scientist Amanda Black, and later ma¯ tauranga Ma¯ ori knowledge holders Chris Pairama (Nga¯ ti Wha¯ tua) and Te Rangita¯ kuku Kaihoro (Te Arawa, Nga¯ ti Tu¯ wharetoa) worked with Victoria University’s Dr Monica Gerth to try to find plants that might affect the spores’ ability to seek out kauri.
Gerth’s group looks at the molecular makeup of extracts from plants that Prime, Pairama and Kaihoro send them to see why some work better than others, while Black looks at soil extracts to see if they would work in the real world.
‘‘Having that indigenous knowledge has helped narrow down from potentially hundreds and thousands of plants to a few target species,’’ Black says. ‘‘Instead of looking for a needle in a haystack, we’ve now got realistic candidates that are already naturally occurring and more likely to give us that long-term, sustainable release of bioactives that work against disease.’’
Together, the group are combining cutting-edge molecular science tools with old forestry knowledge about which plants grow with kauri trees in healthy forests, and about medicinal plants (rongoa¯ ). The aim is also to find a long-term, self-sustaining and cheap solution. ‘‘It’d be great to be able to create a kind of an ecological ‘buffer zone’, where disease-free kauri ‘islands’ are surrounded by plants that repel the spores,’’ Black says.
WHY THE RA¯ HUI?
Until then, the best action for forests at risk of being wiped out is another old, ma¯ tauranga-based approach: ra¯ hui.
A ra¯ hui involves ceasing all human access to fragile or sacred areas. This would give the forest time to heal and restore, and to give researchers like Gerth and Black more time to develop a solution. ‘‘The disease is found mostly where the tracks are, suggesting that humans are spreading it,’’ Black explains, adding that there is no scientific evidence that foot baths and scrubs at entrances stop the spread.
About a year ago, local iwi Te Kawerau a¯ Maki placed a ra¯ hui over the entire Waita¯ kere Forest (Te Wao Nui o Tiriwa). Auckland Council, however, only implemented a partial ra¯ hui, with some paths still open to tourists.
While it seems clear that Pa¯ keha¯ and Ma¯ ori knowledge can work in synergy to create more effective solutions, organisations first need to learn to value Ma¯ ori expertise.
It pays – literally – to pay attention to ma¯ tauranga. ‘‘New Zealand thrives on this clean, green and wholesome image,’’ Black says, ‘‘but in actual fact we’re really not. We’ve got crappy rivers, crappy lakes, and now we’ve got dying forests. You’ve got to ask yourself – what tourist is going to want to see dead forests?’’