Indigenous people are over-represented as professional players in many sporting codes, and recently a trend has developed whereby Indigenous athletes are choosing to play internationally for their heritage nations as opposed to the top-tier countries they reside in. With regard to rugby league and rugby union, many of these athletes are Pasifika who have had minimal exposure to their heritage nations, being born and raised in, for example, Aotearoa New Zealand, Australia or the United States.
This commentary explores the ways in which body sovereignty has been illustrated and supported in the sovereign space of Te Matatini (Ki Te Ao). It is suggested that the 2019 Te Matatini Ki Te Ao Kapa Haka Finals were a space that privileged Te Ao Māori and body sovereignty in multiple, intersecting ways. I propose that sovereign spaces such as Te Matatini provide an alternative illustration, discourse and narrative to current coloniality that restricts, limits and does not acknowledge body sovereignty.
The removal of a Māori child in May 2019 led to widespread protest and the launch of four inquiries into the Ministry for Children, plus an urgent inquiry through the Waitangi Tribunal. Tamariki Māori are over-represented in the child welfare system, but the issues are not just about the system itself. The legacy of colonisation continues to have an impact, not just on individual whānau, but also on the loss of tikanga in relation to whānau. It is the tikanga of whānau that many protesters seek to protect.
This paper explores an agenda for consumer behaviour research as it relates to tribal consumerism. It is argued that while the international consumer behaviour research field is inspired by Indigenous knowledges, the quality of research will be relatively poor and unconvincing unless Indigenous researchers and voices make their way into those conversations. We argue for greater plurality through Indigenous participation in consumer behaviour research, and we challenge business schools to realise their accountability.
How can waiata declare and perpetuate one’s belonging to place, to tūrangawaewae? Waiata are commonly performed at pōwhiri, following, and, in support of whaikōrero. Within this context, place is central to waiata. Its purpose is to complement the whaikōrero, ultimately expressing identity, broaching responsibility for, and the significance of place. Place in the form of tūrangawaewae, a place to stand, a purview of the use of language through waiata, contextualizes cultural identity through song.
In most areas, whaikōrero in pōwhiri has survived the test of time sheltered by the confines of marae, but the performance aspect of this art form has changed significantly. The impacts of Christianity, the influence of European culture and the movement of pōwhiri from outdoors to indoors have created a more subdued speaker, free of weaponry and limited body movement. In recent years there has been a renaissance among particular groups to revive past ways of performance.
Last year the New Zealand Government’s announcement of a “Predator Free NZ 2050” was accompanied by a target for a significant scientific breakthrough capable of eradicating at least one small mammalian predator by 2025. Strong responses and consolidation and repositioning activity ensued. A commonly agreed gap in our understanding is whether we, as a society, would allow the use of such a control, if it existed. Does a “social licence to operate” exist for the NZ scientific establishment? For the New Zealand Government, for that matter?
Whakarāpopototanga: Ahakoa ōna painga anō, ko tetahi hangarau i pā kino nei ki te iwi Māori, ko te reo irirangi kawe reo Pākehā. Neke atu i te rau tau ia e whakapāho mai ana i te reo Pākehā ki ngā hapori o Aotearoa. Nā wai rā, ka noho tangata whenua te reo Pākehā nei ki te iwi Māori, ā, ka noho manuhiri kē, ko tōna ake reo Māori. Heoi anō , kua kite noa te Māori, ka whai oranga tōna reo, menā he hangarau pēnei anō kai ōna ringaringa hai kawe ake i tōna reo Māori ki ōna iwi katoa.
In pre- colonial Māori society, when a released prisoner or slave was returned to their home people, special karakia were used to remove the negative noa they were under, thus restoring their intrinsic tapu. The author discusses whether karakia can be used in contemporary times to restore the mana and tapu of modern- day released prisoners to aid them in their journey of rehabilitation. He also questions whether this practice of restoring tapu and the sense of tapu has any use for survivors of sexual crimes as part of their healing.