One might mistake Otaki as a sleepy seaside town in the bucolic Kapiti Coast District of the North Island of New Zealand. That assumption would be wrong. Otaki is alive and kicking after nearly two centuries of Crown domination. This town of nearly 6,000 is experiencing a momentous resurgence thanks to a sensational revival of Māori language and culture.
“Colonization convinced Māori to stop believing in themselves. Otaki was no different,” said Mereana Selby in her opening remarks at the International Funders for Indigenous Peoples Pacific Hui. The hui, a Māori word for a gathering, brought together indigenous advocates and philanthropists from the Pacific Islands and beyond. Their focus was to foster collaborative partnerships to resource indigenous designed solutions for climate change, environmental sustainability and healthy food systems.
“The loss of our native language also led to the disappearance of the Māori mind,” shared Selby, one of the hui participants. Selby is the first female CEO of Te Wānanga o Raukawa, a pioneering Māori institute of higher learning in Otaki, which served as the venue of the convening.
Selby chronicled an astonishing timeline of the revival of Māori language: In 1915, all Māori in Otaki spoke their native language. By 1975, after settler colonialism had firmly penetrated its roots across New Zealand, no one under the age of 30 could speak Māori in Otaki. That same year, three tribes set the impetus for language revitalization with Generation 2000, a 25-year experiment under the visionary leadership of Māori scholar Whatarangi Winiata. The experiment proved to be a success: A language that was lost for two generations is now spoken by half of the Māori population in Otaki. “The ability to think and communicate again in the native tongue has created a pathway for us to see the world once again through Māori eyes,” said Selby.
Mereana Selby is the first female CEO of Te Wānanga o Raukawa, a pioneering Māori institute of higher learning in Otaki, which served as the venue of the hui. (Photo: Rucha Chitnis)
Mereana Selby is the first female CEO of Te Wānanga o Raukawa, a pioneering Māori institute of higher learning in Otaki, which served as the venue of the hui.
To many of the indigenous participants at the hui, Otaki embodied a living model of what’s possible when local communities have ownership and control over development and cultural revitalization projects. Over the course of two days of the hui, indigenous scientists, doctors, scholars and activists shared with philanthropy groups their advocacy efforts on issues ranging from climate change to deep-sea mining.
“Climate change is interlinked with colonialism. This is a moral crisis, whose impact is not felt equally. The confiscation of indigenous lands led to modern capitalism and industrialization,” said Dr. Rhys Jones, a Māori physician and educator. Dr. Jones emphasized that preserving indigenous knowledge and worldview was key for fighting climate change. “This battle won’t be won by governments. It will be won at the local level by stopping fossil fuel explorations, oil drilling and standing by the side of Indigenous Peoples,” he said.
Indigenous delegates from the Pacific island of Vanuatu shared how they are protecting their traditional lands and food culture in the face of increasing modernization and development. (Photo: Rucha Chitnis)
Indigenous delegates from the Pacific island of Vanuatu shared how they are protecting their traditional lands and food culture in the face of increasing modernization and development.
“Philanthropy needs to work with Indigenous Peoples, not do to Indigenous Peoples,” said Chelsea Grootveld, a Māori board member of the J R McKenzie Trust, one of the oldest philanthropic entities in New Zealand. The Trust has had a significant evolution of its philanthropic model from having zero Māori board members to four today. “We now have Māori on the table setting the strategic direction of the Trust and increasing investment for Māori development. We have realized the benefits of sharing power with Indigenous Peoples. It is clear that what works for Māori is good for all New Zealanders,” she said.
One of the stirring presentations at the hui was by Woor-Dungin, an aboriginal coalition of organizations and funders from Australia. In the Gunnai language, Woor-Dungin means to share. Eight members of the coalition took the hui participants on a journey of dadirri, an aboriginal philosophy on listening deeply. “Dadirri means listening with all of the senses, not just the ears… It’s a quiet contemplation. It renews us and brings us peace,” said Robyn Latham, a Yamatji woman from Western Australia. The aboriginal delegation underscored that funders, too, can reap the benefits of practicing dadirri and open their minds to indigenous ideas of well-being for their communities that have survived centuries of oppression. Their message to funders in the room? “Walk with us. Not in front of us, not behind us and definitely not over us.”
“Walk with us. Not in front of us, not behind us and definitely not over us,” said aboriginal members of Woor-Dungin to funders in the room. (Photo: Rucha Chitnis)
“Walk with us. Not in front of us, not behind us and definitely not over us,” said aboriginal members of Woor-Dungin to funders in the room.
Lourdes Inga concurred. As the executive director of International Funders for Indigenous Peoples (IFIP), a funder affinity group that works to amplify grantmaking to Indigenous Peoples, she has witnessed the unequal power dynamics at play between donors and groups. “IFIP sees the profound value in bringing indigenous voices to philanthropic spaces so that funders can move away from transactional relationships to embrace a partnership model that is responsive and respectful of indigenous life plans,” she said.
Some of the delegates at the hui are, from left, Numelin Mahana from Vanuatu; Lourdes Inga, who is the executive director of the International Funders for Indigenous Peoples; and Dorothy Moli from Vanuatu. (Photo: Rucha Chitnis)
Some of the delegates at the hui are, from left, Numelin Mahana from Vanuatu; Lourdes Inga, who is the executive director of the International Funders for Indigenous Peoples; and Dorothy Moli from Vanuatu.
Meanwhile, Otaki is poised to reach a significant milestone as the first bilingual town in New Zealand. “Today Otaki is a different town. Our children speak Māori, and there is no confusion of our identity. We must not re-instate monolingualism. We must resist Crown surveillance and intrusion,” concluded Selby. Numelin Mahana, an indigenous elder from the South Pacific island nation of Vanuatu, was encouraged by the Māori language revival. “Our language is our roots. The Māori are again following the path of their ancestors. It’s not easy, but they are on their way.”
Otaki Beach, where in the Kapiti Coast District of the North Island of New Zealand an International Funders for Indigenous Peoples Pacific Hui or gathering was recently held.
Otaki Beach, where in the Kapiti Coast District of the North Island of New Zealand an International Funders for Indigenous Peoples Pacific Hui or gathering was recently held. (Photo: Rucha Chitnis)
We’re not backing down in the face of Trump’s threats.
As Donald Trump is inaugurated a second time, independent media organizations are faced with urgent mandates: Tell the truth more loudly than ever before. Do that work even as our standard modes of distribution (such as social media platforms) are being manipulated and curtailed by forces of fascist repression and ruthless capitalism. Do that work even as journalism and journalists face targeted attacks, including from the government itself. And do that work in community, never forgetting that we’re not shouting into a faceless void – we’re reaching out to real people amid a life-threatening political climate.
Our task is formidable, and it requires us to ground ourselves in our principles, remind ourselves of our utility, dig in and commit.
As a dizzying number of corporate news organizations – either through need or greed – rush to implement new ways to further monetize their content, and others acquiesce to Trump’s wishes, now is a time for movement media-makers to double down on community-first models.
At Truthout, we are reaffirming our commitments on this front: We won’t run ads or have a paywall because we believe that everyone should have access to information, and that access should exist without barriers and free of distractions from craven corporate interests. We recognize the implications for democracy when information-seekers click a link only to find the article trapped behind a paywall or buried on a page with dozens of invasive ads. The laws of capitalism dictate an unending increase in monetization, and much of the media simply follows those laws. Truthout and many of our peers are dedicating ourselves to following other paths – a commitment which feels vital in a moment when corporations are evermore overtly embedded in government.
Over 80 percent of Truthout‘s funding comes from small individual donations from our community of readers, and the remaining 20 percent comes from a handful of social justice-oriented foundations. Over a third of our total budget is supported by recurring monthly donors, many of whom give because they want to help us keep Truthout barrier-free for everyone.
You can help by giving today. Whether you can make a small monthly donation or a larger gift, Truthout only works with your support.