Indigenising our universities: aspirations and opportunities

Opinion: Te Kawehau Hoskins and Alison Jones explore the value of an evolving Treaty partnership to higher education. In the final of a three-part series, the opportunities indigenisation brings.

Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland has agreed a kōtuitanga, or memorandum of understanding, outlining partnership with Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei  and the University’s commitment to Māori knowledge. Kaiārataki Michael Steedman, Vice-Chancellor Dawn Freshwater, Pro Vice-Chancellor Māori Te Kawehau Hoskins at the official ceremony in December, 2022.
Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland has agreed a kōtuitanga, or memorandum of understanding, outlining partnership with Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei and the University’s commitment to Māori knowledge. Kaiārataki Michael Steedman, Vice-Chancellor Dawn Freshwater, Pro Vice-Chancellor Māori Te Kawehau Hoskins at the official ceremony.

Universities are notoriously scary for students who struggle to navigate its impersonal spaces; if manaakitanga is an accepted and ‘normal’ aspect of university life, degree programmes and workloads would prioritise built-in practices that encourage collective loyalties and open, closer engagement for students and staff.

A path towards indigenisation creates rich opportunities. It invites the use of Māori terms that stand for relational aspirations. For example, rather than inclusion, we would use the word rangatiratanga which states the positive authority held by Māori and becomes a reminder that Māori should not be viewed as a colonised people with a need to be included.

Other terms such as whanaungatanga (relationality) and manaakitanga (respect and generosity for others ) affirm that the mana (authority) of others is to be upheld. Relationships become central to everything. Mobilising mātauranga can mean something as simple as seeing the growth of a sense of belonging (whanaungatanga) for students and staff.

Using these terms, everyone is included. The phrases make ethical and practical demands of everyone at the institution; they are not simply about ‘including Māori.’ These and other Māori terms suggest immediate practices, rather than elusive goals. They are not vague like ‘inclusion,’ yet they are all about inclusion. They are not as elusive as ‘equity,’ but they are all about equity. They do not mention ‘success,’ but they invite engagement and possibilities for ways to achieve success.

Everyone benefits from an indigenising university. Staff and students become more open to difference and less afraid of it. Social statistics improve as more Māori have access to science and to mātauranga, to systematic evidence-based argument and counter-argument, to higher degrees, and with increased critical confidence in non-Māori and Māori contexts.

An indigenising university is experienced by staff and students as a ‘Māori context.’ That is, Māori contexts are not simply ‘out there’, but right here. After Ngāpuhi leaders first sought writing as a technology for their people more than two centuries ago, writing soon became a Māori technology, used by Māori in their self-determined interests. The indigenising university acts in the same way.

In an ‘inclusive’ university, Māori as a group tend not to gain as much as others. Paradoxically, an inclusive university can primarily benefit non-Māori, who are upskilled (know more about Māori language and tikanga), feel better about being less monocultural and ignorant, can access better data (get better Māori participation in their research projects). The inclusive university might provide many of its members with a sense of progressive change, while change for Māori has not been significant at all.

Given the indigenising university is oriented towards good relationships (whanaungatanga and manaakitanga) between and among indigenous and non-indigenous peoples, it follows that it benefits all of us, regardless of whakapapa and background.

Change needs to grow from within. Indigenisation is a steady and stable altered direction of travel, not a sudden lurch and a new set of demands.

Te Kawehau Hoskins and Alison Jones Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland

In an ‘inclusive’ university, the priority is what to do to include Māori. Committees and groups spend much time writing goals and strategies with aims and outcomes, solutions and endpoints; the orientation is problem solving.

Problems are defined with apparent clarity, using models, tables and graphs, and statistics. This approach can be worthwhile, but the risk is over-simplification and discouraging complex, contextual and systemic thinking.

Indigenising does not entail reaching an end goal. With clear aspirations, say for mutually productive relationships framed by Te Tiriti o Waitangi, the emphasis remains on process, and the usually minute day-to-day interactions that create relationships and connections, and break them.

These processes can be extremely simple: smiling and greeting colleagues, making a joke, turning up to support an event, or taking the time to talk. Meetings become moments for relationship-making and remaking. Daily actions can also be more personally and emotionally demanding for Māori and non-Māori: publicly supporting indigenising policies, speaking up in meetings, speaking back to those who misrepresent indigenising initiatives.

The focus for indigenising is on the ‘how’ not just the ‘what.’ Some people call this ‘the journey, not the destination.’ We are keen to point out that a focus on process is a reminder that we should not aim simply to make fast changes or quick wins.

Change needs to grow from within. Indigenisation is a steady and stable altered direction of travel, not a sudden lurch and a new set of demands.

A focus on process requires attention to how everyday interactions can proceed with generosity and patience—for both Māori and non-Māori. For Māori, a tolerance of ambiguity and complexity may demand at times an unsettling sense of complicity with a colonial institution.

Peaks of achievement

The irritation already familiar to Māori can intensify as the university turns toward te ao Māori in ways it has not before. Once, the institution’s ignorance and ignoring of Māori things caused anger. Now, its embrace of Māori things might lead to renewed impatience with colleagues’ struggles with Māori language, and ideas. For non-Māori, the task is how well they can stay with a new direction of travel, maintain a warm openness to learning, at the same time embrace or tolerate their uncertainties and anxieties. For all these expected problems, in an indigenising university, a collective ability to return to relationships, even after setbacks, becomes a measure of strength.

Our university, the University of Auckland, has been gifted a new name by the tangata whenua, Ngāti Whātua Ōrakei, on whose whenua the university’s main city campus stands. The name is Waipapa Taumata Rau. Waipapa is the place, and Taumata Rau refers to the many volcanic peaks of the local area, as well as the many personal peaks of achievement and aspiration held by university members.

This gift of a Māori name is at the heart of our tentative and careful indigenising, as we consider who we are, where we are, and what we can be as a collective group bringing benefit to Aotearoa New Zealand.

Associate Professor Te Kawehau Hoskins is Pro Vice-Chancellor Māori, and Alison Jones is a Professor at Te Puna Wānanga, Faculty of Education and Social Work, at Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland.

Indigenising our universities is a three part series adapted by Gilbert Wong from Indigenous Inclusion and Indigenising the University, by Te Kawehau Hoskins and Alison Jones, New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies.

This article reflects the opinion of the authors and not necessarily the views of Waipapa Taumata Rau, University of Auckland. Contact for republication: Gilbert Wong, gilbert.wong@auckland.ac.nz