Your search

The Covid-19 lockdown over March to May 2020 meant households became their own “bubbles”, with residents physically interacting only with those in their household and staying close to home. Māori leaders recognised the potential of the lockdown to exacerbate whānau vulnerability due to confinement, financial hardship and, depending on their household, issues of crowding or isolation. Steps were quickly taken to support households with care packages, health care and social connectivity. This paper describes these initiatives as mahi aroha and argues that housing is a foundation from which Māori go out into the world and add meaning and quality to the lives of others. If the mahi aroha of Māori during a lockdown or other crisis is to be sustained into the future, then access to quality, affordable housing must be ensured for Māori essential workers.

Māori knowledge, memory and cultural strength will only enhance New Zealand’s economic recovery planning – if they are listened to.

Situated 65 kilometres south-east of Hamilton, Putāruru (population 3747 in the 2013 Census) is typical of the many farming service towns scattered across rural Aotearoa New Zealand. Bakeries, op shops, a sports bar and a farm equipment supplier occupy the main street. Unlike nearby Tirau, which transformed from a one-stop shop into a vibrant boutique village in the late 1990s, Putāruru township remains largely indistinguishable from other rural centres. There are few clues to the substantial farming-based and water-generated wealth that lies beyond the town.

In Aotearoa New Zealand (Aotearoa NZ), Māori (the Indigenous peoples of New Zealand) have long been objects of surveillance by state institutions and agents. State representations have centred on constructions of difference and deviance, on understandings of Indigenous peoples as dangerous, and on the management of Indigenous resistance to colonialism. This chapter considers how contemporary state surveillance practices in Aotearoa NZ, enabled by the expanded use of big data and linked government datasets, function to regulate and manage Māori. Through this lens, we explore continuities of current data practices for Indigenous peoples with the racialised logics and social orders set in place as part of global systems of imperialism and colonialism. Recognising that resistance has always been a part of Indigenous responses to colonialism, we also explore how Māori Data Sovereignty (MDSov), as part of broader Indigenous Data Sovereignty (IDS) movements globally, provides opportunities to counter and disrupt prevailing data relations and to imagine alternative futures.

As the global ‘data revolution’ accelerates, how can the data rights and interests of indigenous peoples be secured? Premised on the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, this book argues that indigenous peoples have inherent and inalienable rights relating to the collection, ownership and application of data about them, and about their lifeways and territories. As the first book to focus on indigenous data sovereignty, it asks: what does data sovereignty mean for indigenous peoples, and how is it being used in their pursuit of self-determination? The varied group of mostly indigenous contributors theorise and conceptualise this fast-emerging field and present case studies that illustrate the challenges and opportunities involved. These range from indigenous communities grappling with issues of identity, governance and development, to national governments and NGOs seeking to formulate a response to indigenous demands for data ownership. While the book is focused on the CANZUS states of Canada, Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand and the United States, much of the content and discussion will be of interest and practical value to a broader global audience.

"Since colonisation, New Zealand has been mythologised as a 'land of milk and honey' - a promised land of natural abundance and endless opportunity. In the twenty-first century, the country has become literally a land of milk and honey as agricultural exports from such commodities dominate the national economy. But does New Zealand live up to its promise? In this introductory textbook for first year sociology students, some of this country's leading social scientists help us to make sense of contemporary New Zealand. In 21 chapters, the authors examine New Zealand's political identity and constitution; our Māori, Pākehā, Pacific and Asian peoples; problems of class, poverty and inequality; gender and sexualities; and contemporary debates around ageing, incarceration and the environment. The authors find a complex society where thirty years of neoliberal economics and globalising politics have exacerbated inequalities that are differentially experienced by class, ethnicity, gender, sexuality and age. These social divides and problems are at the heart of this text. For sociology students and for a wider audience of New Zealanders, A Land of Milk and Honey? is a lively introduction to where we have come from, where we are now, and where New Zealand society might be headed."

Colonization fundamentally disrupted Indigenous knowledge systems, establishing epistemic hierarchies that privilege Eurocentric colonial epistemologies and methodologies. In this chapter, the authors explore how epistemic hierarchies are (re)produced in the current context of “big data” and datafication, in particular for mokopuna Māori in the nation-state known as New Zealand (NZ). (We use the concept of “mokopuna Māori” to refer to and position Māori babies, children, and young people within the Māori world as the sacred reflection of our ancestors and a blueprint for future generations.) The chapter then considers the possibilities for Indigenous epistemic justice in the “zone of nonbeing” or beyond the “abyssal line.”

Global disease trackers quantifying the size, spread, and distribution of COVID-19 illustrate the power of data during the pandemic. Data are required for decision-making, planning, mitigation, surveillance, and monitoring the equity of responses. There are dual concerns about the availability and suppression of COVID-19 data; due to historic and ongoing racism and exclusion, publicly available data can be both beneficial and harmful. Systemic policies related to genocide and racism, and historic and ongoing marginalization, have led to limitations in quality, quantity, access, and use of Indigenous Peoples' COVID-19 data. Governments, non-profits, researchers, and other institutions must collaborate with Indigenous Peoples on their own terms to improve access to and use of data for effective public health responses to COVID-19.

Indigenous Data Sovereignty (IDS) and Indigenous Data Governance (IDG) art terms increasingly being used across community, research, policy and in practice. The IDS movement has emerged in response to poor data practices, from the conceptualisation of data items through to reporting of data about Indigenous peoples. This chapter aims to provide clarity concerning the definitions of IDS and IDG; provide an overview of the historical context in which IDS has emerged; and provide examples of IDS and IDG across the spectrum of community, policy and practice.

Addressing Indigenous rights and interests in genetic resources has become increasingly challenging in an open science environment that promotes unrestricted access to genomic data. Although Indigenous experiences with genetic research have been shaped by a series of negative interactions, there is increasing recognition that equitable benefits can only be realized through greater participation of Indigenous communities. Issues of trust, accountability and equity underpin Indigenous critiques of genetic research and the sharing of genomic data. This Perspectives article highlights identified issues for Indigenous communities around the sharing of genomic data and suggests principles and actions that genomic researchers can adopt to recognize community rights and interests in data.