An ever-increasing number of species and ecosystems are threatened in countries across the globe. However, despite the best efforts of conservationists and land managers, the needs of the environment are often considered secondary to the economic need for development, urbanisation and intensive agriculture. This results in the ongoing fragmentation and degradation of natural environments, which in turn often leads to Human populations having reduced interactions with the living world. Despite widespread concerns about such issues, attempts to minimise or reverse the loss of nature often fail to take into account the views of local peoples and indigenous groups, and there has been little serious examination of how projects led by such groups can contribute to the loss of biodiversity.
Communities considered to be 'indigenous' inhabit about 22% of the Earth's land surface, but that area is home to over 80% of the world's biodiversity. Furthermore, many have strong cultural links to the natural world, and a deep understanding of the environments they inhabit. In theory, this should give indigenous groups the opportunity to play a major role in protecting the environment and stemming biodiversity loss. However, many indigenous groups have also been subjected to land theft, dispossession, and political marginalisation. Against this background it is useful to be able to assess the contributions which indigenous peoples are involved in, and finding ways to claim leadership of, environmental projects in countries with Western legal systems.
In a paper published in the journal Philosophical Transactions B on 22 January 2026, Erana Walker of the University of Waikato and Te Pūnaha Matatini, Murray Cox also of Te Pūnaha Matatini, and of the College of Sciences at Massey University, and the Department of Statistics at the University of Auckland, Hēmi Whaanga, again of Te Pūnaha Matatini, and of the School of Māori Knowledge at Massey University, and Priscilla Wehi, once again of Te Pūnaha Matatini, and of the University of Otago, examine ways in which contemporary Māori contribute to conservation efforts as part of wider endeavours to preserve their cultural identity.
The traditional mātauranga knowledge system emphasises that people are part of their environment and interdependent with it, rather than separate from it. Elements of nature such as mountains, rivers, forests, and living things are seen as relatives, and incorporated into cultural ceremonies and identities as such. Interactions with the natural world should be seen as reciprocal rather than extractive.
The kaitiakitanga cultural system sees place-based activities such as medicinal harvesting, weaving and gardening as linked to local species and ecosystems, and the transmission of such practices between generations is seen as a way to preserve both the language and culture, and the link to the natural world. This creates, for the Māori, a need to protect nature in order to fulfil their obligations to past, present, and future generations.
The philosopher Kyle White has emphasised the link between social and environmental justice for indigenous peoples, and that the loss of traditional rights to harvest from or inhabit lands over which they traditionally held stewardship can result in grave social injustices. Following on from this reasoning, activities which destroy the natural world can be seen as attacks on the traditional lifeways of the such peoples, and therefore the ability of their culture to survive. Thus activities such as protest marches or land occupations should be seen as attempts to preserve both the traditional culture of indigenous peoples and the natural environment in which that culture is based. This is often at odds with the legal systems of former European colonies, which typically see law and nature as being unrelated systems.
In New Zealand, protests by Māori groups have been recorded since the nineteenth century, beginning shortly after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi) in 1840 by Māori chiefs and representatives of the British Crown, as tensions began to rise over whether the guarantee of self-determination of the Māori found in the treaty also implied continued governance over land and waters. Subsequent legislation by the government of New Zealand sought to first claim and confiscate Māori lands and natural resources, and then dismantle the culture, language and familial structures of Māori communities, in an attempt to assimilate them into colonial society.
By 1960 less than 5% of the land of New Zealand was under Māori ownership, and the majority of the Māori population was found in cities, further accentuating their isolation from their traditional territories. This is a common problem for indigenous peoples, who often become absorbed into urban environments which have expanded over traditional lands, but which are built with little consideration, or even acknowledgement, of their cultural practices. Urban sprawl is a significant cause of the loss of biodiversity around the world, with more than 50% of the world's population, including more than 80% of the Māori, now living in urban centres. Environments such as waterways, wetlands, and forests, are particularly threatened by urban expansion, with natural areas consequently decreasing in size and species richness, while simultaneously suffering the effects of pollution and environmental degradation.
In the Kirikiriroa/Hamilton conurbation, one of the fastest growing urban centres in New Zealand, less than 10% of the land is now covered by native biodiversity, presenting a significant challenge for Māori groups in the Waikato area to preserve their culture. A similar trend has been observed in other urban areas in New Zealand, leading to calls for ecological restoration projects in these areas, particularly from Māori groups who see such projects as vital to the preservation of their culture.
In order to better understand these phenomena, Walker et al. began by examining attitudes to kaitiakitanga among Māori living in the Kirikiriroa/Hamilton urban area, then how these were reflected in social and environmental actions. In order to do this they examined Māori-led environmental and land protests since 1975, as well as funding for environmental restoration projects in New Zealand.
Between January and December 2019, Erana Walker carried out a series of semi-structured interviews with Māori residents of Kirikiriroa/Hamilton. During this process she was careful to shape the interviews as an opportunity to share knowledge, and emphasise respect for the knowledge and views of the participants.
During this time she interviewed twenty participants, between the ages of twenty and fifty, ten male and ten female, all Māori and all living within the city environment. Seven identified themselves as belonging to tribes from within or close to the city boundary, while thirteen came from further away. Regardless of this, all shared similar views about kaitiakitanga, and emphasised a connectivity between Humans and the environment. All thought that environmental activities were connected to the protection of tribal resources. All understood that the natural world was under considerable pressure, and thought that traditional knowledge made sustainable usage important.
Most interviewees stated that knowledge of both kaitiakitanga and biodiversity had been passed down from older generations, and that they in turn felt obliged to pass this on. Commonly, such knowledge had come from multiple members of the community, often across tribal groups, rather than a single instructor.
All those interviewed has been introduced to the concept of kaitiakitanga as children, along with traditional harvesting practices, and the need to share resources with others and care for the community. Cultural practices were closely associated with nature, and it was important to be close to forests, marine areas, and cultural spaces to develop and maintain traditional practices and an ethos of caring for nature.
Maintaining a sense of kaitiakitanga away from their own traditional tribal areas was complex for the interviewees. They wished to maintain their close links to nature, but did not want to override the kaitiakitanga of other groups, which could make it harder to maintain this connection. This was particularly true when living among non-Māori communities who did not necessarily understand or appreciate kaitiakitanga, which could make it hard to express such relationships.
Interviewees also noted that, while the availability of natural and cultural spaces helped to maintain a sense of belonging, different interpretations of kaitiakitanga could also cause problems. One respondent reported having encountered a concept of economic kaitiakitanga, which appeared to run directly contrary to the idea of environmental sustainability. Another noted that without direct support from government and local councils, it was difficult to maintain the knowledge associated with kaitiakitanga in complex urban environments.
Walker et al. also sought to construct a timeline for Māori environmental protests between 1975 and 2024, concentrating on this period because, while there were many protests in the immediate aftermath of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, there were few during the first part of the twentieth century, when many Māori were struggling simply to survive and preserve their culture. They have, however, included some protest movements from the 1960s, where these were widely reported in both the academic and non-academic literature. As well as looking at protests around traditional lands and sites of cultural significance, they also looked at the role of Māori protesters in protesting activities such as mining and offshore resource extraction.
This analysis showed that for the Māori, environmental, cultural and social issues were deeply interconnected. The restoration of traditional Māori rights, including land rights, was deeply tied to a desire to preserve the environment for future generations. Notable areas of contention were land occupation for communities in the rural north, land reclamation around Whaingaroa/Raglan, the protection of ancestral burial sites at Rotokākahi and seabed mining along the Taranaki coast. While some protests were local in nature and involved a single tribal group, others were organised by pan-tribal coalitions to promote wider cultural and/or environmental issues, such as the 1975 Land March led by 79-year-old Māori elder Whina Cooper and the group Te Rōpū Matakite, where protesters walked 1000 km to Parliament in order to protest the continuing loss of Māori land. The 2024 Treaty Principles Bill, which also sought to redefine the interpretation of the Treaty of Waitangi, also resulted in a protest march attracting hundreds of thousands, as well as more than 307 000 written submissions, 92% of which were opposed to the changes.
Next, Walker et al. searched the New Zealand Legislation website for environmental legislation which included terms such as kaitiakitanga, kaitiakitanga, or Māori, which might reflect the incorporation of the views of the Māori in drafting such legislation. In doing this they excluded laws that arose as a consequence of grievance settlements relating to the Treaty of Waitangi, or which sought to enact legal personhood for nature, as these were clearly driven by Māori perspectives.
The results of this search were less clear, but there did seem to be a correlation between Māori protest actions and the adoption of measures relating to these, albeit often with a significant time lag.
Thirdly. Walker et al. sought to examine the actions of Māori-led conservation groups and projects since 1975, with a particular emphasis on their funding. This concentrated particularly on the Jobs for Nature fund, which was created as part of the New Zealand government's COVID recovery package to support job creation and enable communities to restore and care for nature, and the Te Wai Māori fund.
This revealed that successive governments in New Zealand had been willing to fund conservation projects which were Māori-led or had strong Māori involvement, particularly in areas such as forest conservation, marine protection, biodiversity restoration, pest management and water care. Thus was (perhaps unsurprisingly) particularly true when projects were located in areas with large Māori populations, such as Northland and the East Cape area of the North Island. This appeared to be at least partly connected to the impact of extreme weather events such as Cyclone Gabrielle in early 2023, which badly affected these areas.
Also notable was that in some areas Māori-led conservation projects appeared to gain very little funding. This included the Tūhoe–Te Urewera region of the North Island, which has both a large Māori population and an active Māori involvement in local government. Māori-led projects also received less funding on South Island, although here a far lower proportion of the population identify as Māori.
Walker et al.'s research shows that for most Māori, the concept of kaitiakitanga, is central to their identity, and that this in turn requires a connection to, and requirement to care for, the natural world. This is something which has been shown for other indigenous groups around the world, and which can play a key role in the conservation of biodiversity. They suggest that supporting Māori culture is therefore a way to promote the protection of the natural environment in New Zealand, even in areas far from traditional tribal lands. Despite the losses to biodiversity suffered in New Zealand over the past two centuries, this still remains central to Māori cultural identity, as does the desire to preserve the natural world for the benefit of future generations.
The ability to connect to, preserve, and restore nature was as true for Māori who were removed from their traditional lands and living in urban centres as it was for those still living on those traditional lands. Since more than 80% of Māori now live in urban areas, a wider understanding and recognition of this commitment could potentially improve the conservation of nature in urban areas.
All of those interviewed by Erana Walker showed a concern for nature and the loss of biodiversity which formed a core part of their cultural identity, and that the ability to conserve nature and to preserve their culture were strongly interlinked. This was linked to early exposure to both culture and nature, which was then preserved throughout their lives; something which has been reported for other peoples around the globe.
Interviewees raised a number of concerns, particularly about the loss of the natural environment and how their cultural values were understood and validated by wider society. This is similar to the problems reported by members of indigenous groups in other parts of the world. However, while these factors had placed a strain on the Māori participants in the study, all still felt a strong commitment to the natural world, intertwined with their concerns about social justice.
The combination of an expressed commitment to nature among urban Māori, Māori involvement in environmental protests, and the number of Māori-led environmental projects suggests that the kaitiakitanga cultural system, with its view on the interconnectedness of the Human and natural worlds, remains central to the identity of most Māori today. However, this does not mean that this kaitiakitanga-concept is never misused, with some evidence that it is sometimes exploited to gain control of resources.
Māori protest movements have been growing in size and activities since the 1960s, and have campaigned about issues affecting both the Māori culture and the natural environment, including gaining official recognition and protection for the Māori language. Walker et al. speculate that in future this could lead to a better understanding by the legislature of the needs of the Māori, which could in turn have an impact on future environmental legislation. The findings also suggest that protest movements remain an effective way to facilitate social change.
Collective action is often an effective way to gain recognition of both the needs of indigenous communities (and other people) and the natural environment, but in many parts of the world is still met with aggression by the state, often causing great harm to those involved. One option for indigenous groups faced by such challenges is to try to raise global awareness of the issues they face, thereby gaining support from people outside the reach of their own governments. Activism also presents indigenous peoples to reassert stewardship roles over ancestral lands from which they have been separated by colonial processes.
The achievements of previous generations of protesters in getting the legal system of New Zealand to better recognise Māori viewpoints and cultural values creates the potential for a greater future Māori involvement in and leadership of environmental projects. However, this has not entirely been a one-way process, with numerous Acts of Parliament having sought to strip Māori of agreed rights, which means that any assessment of the potential for future progress must include a degree of caution.
One cause for optimism is the willingness of successive New Zealand governments to fund environmental projects through the Jobs for Nature fund, with more than 50% of projects receiving funding being either Māori-led or Māori-supported. This has included significant funding for projects in socially and economically deprived areas, such as Northland and the East Cape, and has often acknowledged Māori leadership on climate, social and environmental issues, particularly following extreme weather events and the Covid-19 pandemic. Such funding has contributed to the protection and restoration of natural systems in many areas, as well as the Māori society associated with these systems. However, these successes should be measured against an understanding that such funding is temporary in nature, and may not translate directly into a longer term support for these activities.
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