In February, my partner and I shared a taxi from Wellington airport to the New Zealand Festival of Arts Talanoa Mau venue with a young artist from Northland, where they were both presenting. The conversation was riveting – Te Kaurinui Parata (Ngātiwai, Ngāti Pūkenga) is young, only in his early 20s, but already a mature thinker and generous with his knowledge.

The aspect of the conversation that disturbed me, though, was his description of making a choice between one system of learning and another; between his university studies at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington and the whakapapa knowledge systems at home. Despite nearing completion, he had left his philosophy and political science university degree behind, instead opting to be a student of Mātauranga Māori. Te Kaurinui’s depth of knowledge and vibrancy as he discussed his work in whakairo and whale recovery showed that he had indeed made a good choice.¹

But I wondered why he could not have both, and why our universities are unwisely still losing talented students and leaders such as Parata, despite a commitment, by so many, to honour Aotearoa’s foundations under Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The focus on increasing the numbers of Māori students and academics in universities, as well as Māori curriculum content, is to be celebrated but it has been slow,² perhaps because the established systems expect assimilation into one dominant (Pākehā) world view.

Recent allegations of systemic and casual discrimination at the University of Waikato, followed by support from many across universities nationwide, highlight the inequities that continue to exist in our universities,³ and there is ongoing support for strengthening self-determined kaupapa Māori education.⁴ It seems that the focus is always on bringing Māori knowledge into westernised structures and systems, as a minor subset, rather than the other way around.⁵ This approach is about maintaining control and overlooks the rich possibilities that would emerge if Eurocentric academic worlds were to become a minor subset in the existing and parallel well-established Māori knowledge systems, which already have educational sovereignty.

Architectural education could offer such flexibility, with students moving between Māori and Pākehā systems of learning as they attain credits towards their architectural degrees. Architectural education structures in this country are always evolving and have shifted radically before, from an apprentice-type training, which saw architects being ‘articled’ to particular practices, to the current recognised pathway via the university double degree system.

Prior to and alongside these malleable Pākehā structures of education, there has always existed a parallel guild-like te ao Māori knowledge transfer for architecture, including the many forms of whakairo, mahi toi and raranga wānanga, which have been documented extensively by Dr Deidre Brown (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Kahu).⁶ Providing the ability for students to interweave the two autonomous education systems seems logical and necessary in a supposedly bicultural country and would remove the need for students to leave one system for another. 

Beyond education and the academic world, it is hoped that, one day soon, this parallel knowledge system will also be recognised by the professional and registration bodies that govern our architectural communities. Taking a lead from the many emerging indigenous-led practices, such as ĀKAU, Matakohe Architecture + Urbanism, Studio RT, MAU Studio, The Roots Collective, designTRIBE and TOA Architects, as well as some large practices establishing internal cultural advisory groups,⁷ and the professional support network Ngā Aho, current forms of practice supported by the Institute could easily be broadened.

I am aware that, as a Pākehā in conversations of this kind, my role is to listen rather than to speak, and the writing of this opinion column has exposed a navigation through my own ignorance. But this exposure is volunteered because I strongly believe that the current assimilation of one knowledge system into another needs revision and that an interconnection between existing self-determined indigenous-led education systems and current degree structures (as a subset) is possible.

During a recent NZIA National Awards jury tour, I was lucky to visit the Hihiaua Cultural Centre, designed by Moller Architects. I was so pleased that Te Kaurinui Parata was working at the centre that day and that, in our fleeting catch-up, I was able to gain an insight into his passion for his ongoing education, valuable connections within his broader community and respectful, developing leadership. The knowledge he is safeguarding has a whakapapa to Ngāti Porou tohunga whakairo Pineāmine Taiapa (1901–1972), via his teacher Te Warihi Hetaraka. I look forward to a time when students from university architecture schools can study under educators like him.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this column are personal and do not represent the views of the School of Architecture and Planning at the University of Auckland, where Lynda is a Professional Teaching Fellow.

^{More information on the top image: Alexander-Tu’inukuafe’s project investigated the concept of ‘whare taonga’ and its differences from the Western understanding of a museum, despite many New Zealand museums adopting the term since the Te Māori exhibition held in NYC in 1984.}

^{He considered, through extensive hui and community engagement, the ways in which the kaitiaki of Ngāpuhi taonga may be returned to the hapū, and how the architectural expression of such care and protection may differ from museum typology. The final proposal questioned the architectural container itself.}

^{Alexander-Tu’inukuafe’s project was placed as Runner-up in the 2015 AAA Visionary Awards, Conceptual Category.}