Re-indigenising and how to decolonise design

We’ve already described what decolonisation and re-indigenisation mean in the context of urban design. Now let’s see what the experts say about how exactly to do it.


There are many ways to think and go about re-indigenising. Today, we’ll discuss some models and mindsets for re-indigenising our spaces. But all this brings up important ethical considerations.

This is part two in a three-part series. In part one, we defined decolonisation and re-indigenisation in the context of urban design. In this part, we’ll explore ethics and philosophies around appropriately implementing these ideas. And in part three we’ll go through some decolonisation FAQs.

In case you need a refresher, decolonisation means Indigenous people regaining land, and power and agency over a nation’s identity and development. This will include a degree of dismantling Western structures, assumptions and knowledge (or at least its imposed authority over Indigenous institutions and knowledge).

Re-indigenisation is, as Raerino et al. (2021) define it, “an Indigenous-led movement to reclaim everyday living environs by contesting, unsettling and disrupting the ongoing creation of urban centres that serve only to reflect settler power.” But what does this really look like?

Indigenous ecological design

Dr Rebecca Kiddle is a highly respected author and lecturer who works in decolonising and re-indigenising spatial design. Dr Rebecca Kiddle is an author and lecturer whose book Imagining Decolonisation has remained a Unity Books bestseller for two years running.

Rebecca Kiddle: author, lecturer and extremely cool human. Image credit: Victoria University of Wellington

In her chapter, Indigenous ecological design in the book, Ecologies Design, Kiddle outlines a holistic approach to decolonising. Her four principles are based on Māori whakatukī (proverbs).

We love this model because it’s embedded in Māori and Aotearoa contexts. Kiddle argues that whatatukī give us a way into Māori values, worldviews and mātauranga.

Her principles aim to decolonise not just the structures and towns we build, but also the institutions surrounding urbanism and architecture.

Temporal Approach – Ka mua, ka muri

This principle emphasises looking in all temporal directions. It’s about permanence and the lack thereof. It shows respect for and a need to learn from what has come before.

It also emphasises looking forward and the urgency of unity and Māori leadership. All of this information, all of these ways of thinking about history and ourselves, the future and time are necessary to inform the present.

Papatūānuku and Ecosystems – Manaaki whenua, manaaki tangata, haere whakamua

Kiddle cites multiple whakatukī that illustrate the importance of nature, the land, and the interconnectedness of people and place for our wellbeing.

For example, she mentions, “Toitū te kupu, toitū te mana, toitū te whenua (Hold fast to Māori culture; if you hold fast to the language, the authority to the land, the essence of being Māori remains).”

Whenua, she argues, should be treated as equally important as (and inseparable from) Māori language and culture. Connecting with and preserving Papatūānuku needs to be integral to any future design project.

“If the land is not well, the people cannot be well.”

Rebecca Kiddle

Collaboration – Nā tō rourou, nā taku te rourou, ka ora ai te iwi

This theme celebrates prosperity in collaboration. Through unity and collective action, we all flourish and find strength.

This principle discusses social ecologies. Practically, this encourages collaboration between a project and a range of stakeholders, including mana whenua. Mana whenua, especially, have been overlooked or kept out of spatial design despite being kaitiaki (guardians) of their spaces.

“Don’t F@#k Context” – Ko te awa ko au, ko au te awa

Finally, this approach implores us to never forget the context in which a project is taking place.

Every location, purpose, culture, community etc. will differ from project to project. This principle asks us to meaningfully engage with these contexts, and the history of a place and its people.

Even as individuals, we can still engage with and discuss our own contexts (our pasts, our roots, where our ideas are coming from). Importantly, it’s necessary to understand the full context of past (on ongoing) injustices so we can right them moving forward.

The 6 Fs

Matthew Hickey provides another model in the form of 6 Fs for decolonising and re-indigenising design.

It’s important to note that as a Mohawk (an Indigenous people from North America), he’s coming at this from a different cultural perspective and history.

Still, these principles can still broadly be applied to Aoteaora’s spaces. They speak to an Indigenous and colonised experience, and have been echoed by other professionals, academics, and individuals.

Matthew Hickey: an Indigenous architect, designer and lecturer based in Canada. Image credit: Artscape

1 – Food

Food is inseparable from culture and plays a large part in ceremony, language, practices and systems. Can we encourage more accessible spaces that centre Māori food and ceremony? How can we re-think farming and food supply from an Indigenous perspective? And, crucially, how do we make sure everyone has access to food and doesn’t have to go hungry?

2 & 3 – Flora & Fauna

This principle holds that our spaces should be for all species. Raerino et al.’s report also emphasised how seeing native plants in our streetscape helps connect us with a space and build a sense of identity. So many of us still get excited about a weta in the garden or kaka above our heads. Seeing more native creatures and plants around us creates opportunities for education and improved well-being.

The growing native bird population in Wellington has brought joy to many of us. Image credit: Sis Mosdell (CC2.0)

4 – Family

This is a big one. How we picture a family unit or a community is highly influenced by culture. And these ideas and their importance can change over time. They inform a lot about how our neighbourhoods and houses are designed. For instance, a lot of Indigenous architecture accounts for intergenerational living and community hubs. Much of the architecture we’re used to, however, assumes a family is one couple and a child or three.

Additionally, this principle asks us how we build spaces that foster connection and community. These kinds of development greatly benefit us all.

5 – Fun

That means play, people. Formal and informal play for everyone. It means events, activities, parks and adventure… Fun lets us connect and interact with our environments. And who doesn’t want a little more fun and play in their daily life?

6 – Flexibility

This means infrastructure that is accessible and designed with long-term goals. Too much of design in the past has been about dominating spaces and achieving something now, not twenty years down the line.

It also means adaptability. In planning our streets and structures, we need to think about now, about then, about all that time in between, and all that comes after. Maybe that’s a bit lofty, but this kind of thinking harkens back to Kiddle’s principles. And it will help us create structures that matter and serve us for generations to come.

This principle is especially important in the face of climate change. With how rapidly our environment is changing, planning only for the immediate future will quickly render initiatives outdated, ineffective, or detrimental to our climate goals.

“Decolonizing the way we think about design and architecture and the processes by which we create the built environment begins with taking humans off the top if the pyramid and placing them as an equal part of a circle”

Matthew Hickey

Whew, that was a lot. But now we’re getting somewhere, and that means we need to talk ethics.

Māori Architecture and Design – who gets to decide?

Writer and architectural designer, Jade Kake has spoken extensively about Māori architecture and re-indigenised cities. Her studio, Matakohe, has worked on many projects in and around Whāngarei. These projects adopt a thoughtful approach that centres Māori life, values, and symbols.

In this talk on Indigenous urbanism, Kake describes her “Oruku Landing” project. The area being developed will include an events centre, a 4-star hotel, a public plaza and an apartment complex.

The designs of these buildings’ facades will take inspiration from traditional basket weaves. In essence, the use of the building will be reflected by the tightness of the weave. So the apartment blocks, where people need security and stay for a long time will have a tighter look. But the events centres, where people come and go, will have a looser design.

Concept for the Okuru Landing project. Image credit: Matakohe

We recommend watching this talk she gave to Harvard where she goes more in-depth on her Rewarewa Papakāinga project.

This project meaningfully and repeatedly involved the community throughout the planning of a residential area. It was important to Kake, that the people who will live in and use the space could guide its design and development.

The result had to serve and reflect its people. For example, houses will be placed to feel connected to the scenery and their neighbours and will be built with intergenerational living and marae-style sleeping in mind.

In an article for The Spinoff, Kake discusses what Māori design means and who gets to create it. She stresses that any project must include mana whenua. Even if a Māori professional designer is involved in a project, Kake argues, this doesn’t necessarily make it “Māori design.”

“a Māori designer can and likely will be more sensitive to the needs and aspirations of Māori communities, and skilled in appropriate processes. […] There is no Māori design without mana whenua involvement. Otherwise […] we are just recolonising the people and the landscape.

Jade Kake

And this brings us to an important discussion on who gets to decide what Indigenous design and decolonisation look like.

Pākehā may well care deeply about urban design and the spaces around them. They may also be invested in Māori architecture and decolonisation. We all want a fairer, more equitable Aotearoa after all. But it should not be up to Pākehā to decide how this is done.

Amanda Thomas discusses this in a symposium on imagining decolonised cities. She relates this to new mātauranga Māori and who has the authority to influence it. She says some Pakehā will claim an Indigenous identity due to a felt connection with a place and an emotional investment in Māori representation. Yet this does not gives them the right to determine mātauranga Māori or what Māori design should look like in our towns.

Tūranga library was celebrated for its Māori design motifs but it gave little to the mana whenua involved. Image credit: Christchurch City Council

It’s also important to note as well that even when Māori are involved in design and their work is considered “uniquely Aotearoa,” they may still not be appropriately highlighted or credited.

Kiddle criticises this phenomenon in an article for The Spinoff. Using Christchurch’s Tūranga library as an example, she describes how the building was praised for its “Indigenous motifs” yet the significant involvement from local hapū and iwi groups was left out. This is not an isolated incident.

In talking to many hapū groups and iwi, she has heard the same story again and again. Māori designs and symbols are appropriated or used without consent or credit. This erases and undermines Māori autonomy and agency, slows progress, and is yet another ongoing effect of colonisation.

These instances further remind us of people calling for genuinely meaningful engagement. Māori symbols and designs should not be thrown around for the sake of aesthetic. Even if it’s done with good intentions, it can step into cultural appropriation territory.

Local iwi and mana whenua have to be involved through planning, design, naming etc. to make sure all representation is authentic and welcomed. Those decisions and discussions need to be respected. And their involvement should be highlighted and credited appropriately. Every. Single. Time.

What now?

This space is still evolving and there’s a lot of work to be done. We were only able to touch on a few issues and contexts that themselves deserve their own deep dives. But hopefully, this series has given you somewhere to start and some things to consider. We recommend you dig deeper through the resources included in and linked below each article.

But what do we do now? First and foremost, we need to provide support for Māori designers, artists, and architects. Not one-off projects, not token team membership, but long-term, formal engagement.

Same goes for active, consistent and meaningful inclusion of local communities and mana whenua. There ought to be more formal systems in place for this throughout projects’ design, planning, and development. The use of Māori symbols and aesthetics must be used with permission and care. And all inspiration and involvement must be clearly credited.

The most important thing about decolonisation and re-indigenisation is fostering space and the power for Māori to represent themselves how they choose. There’s a lot of time, erasure and systematic exclusion to make up for. A lot of active work and promotion need to be done to correct the balance.

It’s well worth talking about the ways colonisation has influenced our structures (literal and institutional). And it’s worth talking about how we can reshape our spaces that will benefit and reflect us. Decolonisation is an essential part of that goal.

Remember, if you have any questions, leave them below and we’ll answer them in part three.


Further resources

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