Aroha at Little Huia next to Te Manukanuka o Hoturoa (Manukau Harbour). Photo supplied.
Aroha Gilling has had enough of being the only brown face in the room. Here, she offers some advice to Pākehā employers who want to hire more Māori.
There’s a popular saying in military and IT circles: “Two is one, one is none.” It means that if you have one solution and it fails, you’re in trouble. But if you have two, at least there’s a backup.
A Māori colleague of mine uses this saying to explain the challenges faced by Māori in a predominantly Pākehā workplace: Two Māori combined may just get their point across, but one Māori alone often goes unheard.
Recently, I realised that I’ve been the “one is none” voice for too long now.
My work as a Māori specialist in a government department has always been lonely. But it’s become even more so now that my Māori mentor, and buffer against the white world, has retired. I’ve been left as the lone Māori voice in a wilderness of Pākehā perspectives.
I come to my job knowing that I’m going to regularly disagree with my colleagues, because I see the world through a completely different lens — an Indigenous lens, where Te Tiriti o Waitangi and tikanga are the paramount guides to behaviour and action. So I make no apology if some of my white colleagues feel uncomfortable when I refuse to share their colonial fantasies.
But I’m at risk of being characterised as the “angry Māori” when I continually disagree with the dominant narrative. Writing me off as “angry” is a simplistic and easy way to dismiss what I’m saying and avoid any deep thinking or analysis that might lead to discomfort.
As I’ve pointed out, we will never think exactly the same way, and I’m glad that we don’t. How do we foster diversity in the workplace, and avoid repeating the same mistakes, if we all think the same?
But I’ve reached my limit of trying to carry this kaupapa alone. I’ve taken a secondment, and I’m moving to the other end of the country. I’m leaving everything and everyone I know and love to join a Māori team led by a staunch ally.
Even though I love where I live and have fantastic whānau and friends, being “one is none” has become too hard.
So what needs to change?
Over the years, the question of how to make workplaces, projects and programmes “attractive” to more Māori has come up in multiple discussions. I’m frequently asked how departments can “appeal” to Māori.
A good place to start is with workplace and project policies. Do they reflect Māori aspirations as expressed in Te Tiriti o Waitangi? Doing this requires explicit documentation, and any gaps should be easy to spot.
The next obvious question is whether there are Māori and iwi at all levels of the organisation. Are Māori represented on the governance board, in upper management, and as key decision-makers? Or are Māori siloed into low-paying, low-status roles that lack real influence?
Another important area to consider is whether Māori, and particularly the iwi of a place, have been included from the outset, so they are instrumental in the conception of policies, procedures or projects. The “just add Māori and stir” approach, usually midway through a project, is so 1980s.
Then it’s worth asking whether the organisation embraces tikanga-based practices. How are new staff welcomed and farewelled? Are Māori staff supported culturally, or are they only used, once hired, to brown up the white world? Does leadership understand the importance of tangi and either attend themselves or make it easy for staff representatives to be present with a respectable koha? Are Māori staff rewarded and acknowledged when they go outside their job descriptions to perform cultural roles such as kaikōrero or kaikaranga?
One way to assess if the organisation’s interactions with whānau, hapū, iwi are merely transactional, or if there is relational depth, genuine feeling and connectivity, is to ask: What do iwi say about the relationship?
Another good litmus test of whether your organisation is welcoming to Māori is the atmosphere at morning tea in the staffroom. What happens when a Pākehā colleague deliberately mispronounces te reo or speaks in a faux Māori accent? Do non-Māori colleagues stand up and object? Or do they leave it to the Māori staff to call out privilege, prejudice and racism, and only mumble behind the scenes that they agree with what you said?
I think some of the most obvious clues to the health of the relationship come during the hiring process. Is there iwi representation on candidate selection and interview panels, and how does the organisation cope with whānau support for a candidate? My colleague who has just retired tells the story of his original interview where 120 of his whānau, hapū, iwi came to support his application. If today’s HR are discombobulated by two or three whānau, imagine the panic at that many.
Consider the interview questions too. Do they allow Māori candidates to demonstrate real depth and knowledge from their cultural world? It’s time for organisations to start getting their collective heads around the everyday parts of te ao Māori that showcase skills and achievements.
For example, if someone has experience as a ringawera, or a marae cook, it shows their ability to work under pressure, manage resources and time, and be part of a team. If you are the head ringawera, then those skills are amped up tenfold, to include managing a team, financial responsibility, and delivering food to a consistently high standard to show manaakitanga to guests. The mana of an iwi rests on its manaakitanga, and kai is critical in the process.
If someone has “kaihoe” (waka ama paddler) on their CV, then you’re getting someone who is mentally and physically strong, works effectively as part of a team, turns up for training, and understands commitment. Ask them about their racing experience. If they’re a steerer, then they’re in a position of responsibility and have developed specialist technical skills to make decisions under pressure. Maybe they’re a social paddler. Ask them what attracts them to the sport. Do they paddle because they enjoy the camaraderie, the cultural aspects, or because it makes them happy? A robust and thoughtful discussion along these lines will give you plenty of insights into their character and abilities.
I believe the standard, surface-level Treaty of Waitangi interview question — “Tell us about the Treaty of Waitangi” — also offers insight into your organisation’s cultural awareness.
My initial response is to ask the interview panel which Treaty text they mean. Are they asking me about the principles of the Treaty, or my understanding of Treaty history? This approach either kicks off a lively discussion or results in astonished silence. Both responses display where an organisation is in its Treaty journey.
Finally, if you want to hire (and retain) more Māori, look around. Does the building reflect Māori realities? Are posters, pamphlets and signage in te reo Māori as well as English? This is easy to do, and while signage can often be used to dress up a predominantly colonial organisation, it is one of the simplest ways to flag the cultural diversity and openness of an organisation.
In a recent office upgrade, the place I worked for acquired new furniture for the tearooms. The new additions were a sort of low table, but with chair cushions and seat backs fixed on top. I couldn’t decide whether they were chairs or tables. Rather than risk tikanga by inadvertently sitting on an eating surface, I avoided them at all costs and perched on a stool instead. It might sound minor, or even picky, but such decisions tell me that even very basic cultural considerations weren’t factored into the redecoration plans.
Making your workplace, project or programme more attractive to Māori requires mental, emotional, physical, and financial commitment to change and continual growth.
Yes, it will push your organisation out of its familiar white colonial world. But you might just end up with an amazing organisation or project with increased Māori participation that creates enduring and positive change.
And who knows? If you do away with the surface-level sham and go for a real Tiriti o Waitangi and tikanga-based approach, the Māori participants may even consider sticking around for a while. Then you’ll realise that two is one, one is none, but many is fun!
Aroha Gilling (Te Whānau a Apanui) is an adviser to government departments on Te Tiriti o Waitangi and mātauranga Māori. She has a Master of Indigenous Studies from the University of Otago and a background in adult education and social work. She recently relocated from Nelson to Auckland.
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