“He ringa raupā - Calloused hands”: Negotiating the intersections and responsibilities as sport practitioners and academics in Aotearoa

ABSTRACT

Indigenous voices are rising across the world. Indigenous people and culture exist in sport, although it is challenging to hear their voices in sport management. A review of the published journal articles in the main sport management journals revealed that Indigenous voices and an understanding of Indigenous issues are largely absent. This article highlights the challenges of publishing articles that include Indigenous voices and, demonstrates an attempt for Indigenous and non-Indigenous authors within Aotearoa (New Zealand) to genuinely work in partnership. The pertinent literature in the field is summarised highlighting the literature published by Indigenous authors. The Ringa Raupā model to test the veracity of a Kaupapa Māori approach is introduced as a reflective tool to frame the lived experiences in sport and academia of the Māori authors. We collectively reflect on how to be responsive to the provisions and principles of Te Tiriti o Waitangi as Tangata Whenua and Tangata Tiriti in a sport management and university context. Questions of positionality, criticality, self-determination, access, authorship, praxicality and dissemination are raised, to challenge readers, and enable Indigenous scholars’ voices to be heard on their, not Western, terms.

KEYWORDS:

• Indigenous
• sport management
• Ringa Raupā
• Aotearoa New Zealand

Positionality and genesis of the article

This article is based on our collective lived experiences within Aotearoa (New Zealand), and as such focuses on its Indigenous peoples, Māori. While many indigenous cultures exist around the world, it is not our place or intention to speak to the experiences of other Indigenous peoples. We do, however, encourage readers from across the world to consider and learn from the issues we raise and consider these issues in their own cultures and contexts. While some of the ideas presented in this article are based on sport governance, given our own shared and lived experience, we believe that the ideas are applicable more widely to the sport context.

We start by providing the context within which this article was created, including our positionalities framed within the context of living in Aotearoa, which is guided by Te Tiriti o Waitangi (Māori version) and how this impacts everything we do, including our work as academics and practitioners in sport – hence the ringa raupā (calloused hands) framework and the importance of looking back in order to move forward “titiro whakamuri, kōkiri whakamua”. We then review literature that was identified using the search terms “sport management” and “indigenous or first nations or aboriginal or native”. In order to privilege the voices of indigenous peoples, we have considered whether articles have included indigenous authors, the focus of articles, and whether articles involved speaking from an indigenous perspective, were about Indigenous people, or both.

Farah’s initial reactions to writing this article:

I’m deep in the process and practice of Indigenizing the spaces I engage with – sport, academia, governance which can be both rewarding and frustrating. Our Māori Rugby Board are frustrated with the lack of progress in creating genuine partnership and engagement with the National Sport Organisation, New Zealand Rugby. Sport New Zealand is excited about Te Taumata (a National Māori Governing body of sport, active recreation and play) and are incorporating more tikanga (Māori customs) and te reo (Māori language) into what and how we “think” and “do” as an organisation. Our university is going through some challenging times and trying to walk together as Tangata Tiriti (non-Māori) and Tangata Whenua (Māori) in an attempt to be a Te Tiriti o Waitangi-led University.

It is also the time just before Matariki (Māori New Year), and my energy levels are low (according to the Maramataka (Māori lunar calendar) this is “nui te ruha” – a time for big exhaustion). While in this state, I hear from a colleague and mentor that there is an opportunity to contribute to the sport management discourse. Can I take on another kaupapa (purpose)? Will it be an easy process, or one that requires the merging of two or more worldviews, which can be frustrating and time-consuming, where everyone feels they may have to compromise and give up some space? My colleague starts to share her preliminary findings after reviewing the landscape of indigenous research and contributions in sport management academia and it is scarce. There is a whakataukī (proverb)in te ao Māori (Māori world) “Mauri mahi, mauri ora; mauri noho, mauri mate”, which suggests industry begets prosperity/security, and idleness begets poverty/insecurity. I cannot sit here in my privileged position and not step into this space yet again, and challenge, encourage, and shake the system up to include more indigenous voices, experiences and knowledges.

Matariki is a time of new beginnings, of gathering together to wānanga (discuss) – and in the worlds I occupy, this happens through actions, the spoken and the written word. I decide to step into this space with my colleague and convince another Indigenous “pracademic” to join so that we provide a tāne (male) and wāhine (female) perspective. We are all willing to enter into dialogue and place the wero (challenge) at the feet, and in the minds and hearts of our sport management colleagues.

Bevan’s initial reactions to writing this article:

Like many Māori, sport was a major part of my upbringing and an important component of my life. I am an Indigenous academic and my role as an Associate Dean Māori, has a strong focus to increase the understanding and confidence of my non-Māori (and some Māori) colleagues to undertake and interpret teaching, learning and research that will benefit Māori outcomes and aspirations. I love what I do, even though the amount of time I spend on socializing, mobilizing and guiding our universities position of being Te Tiriti-led has made my academic life challenging. I do not resent the time and energy I spend on supporting my majority non-Māori colleagues in becoming genuine allies in our Te Tiriti-led aspirations. Acknowledging that sport encompasses and displays powerful social factors, coupled with an intensity and desire to “do more”, it took very little convincing to accept the invitation to advance the Māori agenda as an elected member on the national governing body of Aotearoa Poirewa/Volleyball New Zealand. - and I feel no different in being invited to co-author this article with two amazing wāhine toa (female academic champions) both of whom have impacted upon my own theories of change and conscientization. This invitation presented an immense opportunity that could not be ignored to share and make meaningful contributions that I hope will result in improving and developing an Indigenous perspective in a field of academic endeavour that continues to explore its contribution to respectfully, appropriately and humbly give voice to Indigeneity. Naively, perhaps that statement exposes my blurred sense of optimism and hope.

Sarah’s initial reactions to writing this article:

Ever since I chose to live in Aotearoa over thirty years ago, I have worked very hard to educate myself about te ao Māori and what my role is in giving effect to Te Tiriti o Waitangi, as someone who identifies as Tangata Tiriti, in everything I do (given my multiple identities and roles as teacher, researcher, co-founder of a sport gender equity organisation, board director, parent, athlete). This is an ongoing journey of learning, reflection and above all being prepared to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. As an active ally in this space being uncomfortable does not only come from choosing to put myself in situations where I might be one of few non-Māori, but also being prepared to challenge non-Māori on their thinking and actions. So what was the genesis of this article? It started with a Friday email, asking me if I could write something on sport management and Indigenous issues, as the original author(s) had pulled out. My first thought was but I am not Indigenous, so I cannot do this and there is only three weeks to pull something together from scratch. Given that I very strongly identify as an ally in this space, I was trying to work out what to do. Here were my struggles – I am not Indigenous, this is very last minute and when I ask my Indigenous colleagues, this means they will need to drop what they are doing, find time to write something, no guarantee of publication, they are already pulled in so many different directions – I feel really bad and conflicted about this. I know it is critical to have Indigenous voices in the academy, but why was I, not an Indigenous scholar, approached in the first instance – feeling very uneasy. So I decided to have a look at what had been written in the three main sport management journals. Not much as it turned out, which meant I thought it was even more important to do something. This is where the relationships and respect I have built up over many years with Indigenous colleagues came in. I sent them an email with the invitation, acknowledged all the challenges and asked them to think about whether this was something we could do collectively given all the constraints. We met, discussed and decided yes something could be done, if I took the lead on identifying what had been done and then together we would share our lived experiences in the area of sport governance, as this was an area we all had in common within sport. One of my first challenges when looking at the printed material was trying to identify which authors were Indigenous, as only in more recent times have authors identified their positionality in academic articles and then not always.

The concept “he ringa raupā” that forms the title of this article is part of a whakatauki: “Moea he tangata ringa raupā”. (Marry a person with calloused hands). It references the characteristics of a hard worker – a vigorous, energetic and clever individual in any field of expertise. In a traditional Māori worldview, it referred to the arduous working conditions of every-day life and survival that would result in blistered and calloused hands – an indicator of hard work. All three of us have worked at Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa Massey University, for numerous years and been actively involved in sport at all levels. Foundational to this article is the role of Te Tiriti o Waitangi to Aotearoa and our collective experiences in both academia and sport in relation to it. Farah (Waikato; Ngāti Maniapoto) and Bevan (Taranaki; Te Atihaunui-a-Pāpārangi; Ngāti Tūwharetoa) as Māori Tangata Whenua and Sarah, who identifies as non-Māori as Tangata Tiriti.

Te Tiriti o Waitangi (Māori version) or the Treaty of Waitangi is a “treaty of cession” (Wyeth et al., 2010, p. 304) that pledged “provision for British settlement on one hand, and protection of Māori interests on the other” (p. 305). Signed in 1840 by representatives of the British Crown and some Māori chiefs, Te Tiriti (abbreviated form) is the closest document Aotearoa has to a written constitution and serves as an embodiment of the responsibilities of the Crown settlers to Indigenous peoples (Severinsen et al., 2023). In brief, Te Tiriti contains three written “Articles”, one oral covenant (now referred to as Article 4) and a preamble. Article One: the principle of Kāwanatanga/Governorship; Article Two: the principle of Tino Rangatiratanga/Chieftainship (and in some instances Sovereignty); Article Three: the principle of Ōritetanga/Equity-Equality; Article Four: the principle of Wairuatanga/Spirituality. Te Tiriti has recently grown in prominence encouraging capacity amongst those in decision-making and implementation roles to see Te Tiriti more effectively honoured. A core part of Massey University’s efforts to advance our Te Tiriti-led aspirations occurs partly as a public entity to support the Crown in its relationship with Māori under Te Tiriti and for developing and maintaining the capability to engage with Māori and understand Māori perspectives. Similarly, references to Te Tiriti in policy and strategy have become increasingly common in sport in Aotearoa, as have aspects of mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge) in various sporting organisational settings (Hapeta et al., 2023). Under Aotearoa’s sport governance model, national sports organisations have relative independence in setting their respective sport strategy. This aligns with Ihi Aotearoa Sport New Zealand’s commitment to upholding the mana of Te Tiriti and the principles of Partnership, Protection and Participation by committing to partnership with Tangata Whenua, actively protecting Māori tikanga, te reo, taonga (treasures), and mātauranga Māori, and promoting participation by valuing culturally distinctive pathways, as well as committing to equitable and accessible opportunities for Tangata Whenua.

We recognise that working towards enacting the provisions of Te Tiriti in our university, academia and in sport is a challenging endeavour. However we believe that as Dame Anne Salmond (2021) states: “the promise of Te Tiriti, couched as it was in the language of chiefly gift exchange, was to enhance the mana [status/power] of all parties, and to bring people and their tikanga together as equals … – a future based on reciprocity and mutual respect”.

Setting the scene

Following Cash Ahenakew (2016), a Cree scholar, we graft indigenous relational processes into this conventional Western academic journal, by including our relationships, conversations, processes, questions, and struggles as a critical part of making visible the challenges of “fitting in” to the dominant conventions of the academy. These dominant conversations are increasingly being referred to as the White space (see for example Anderson, 2015; Hordge-Freeman et al., 2011; Milne, 2017), which frames the dominant narrative of theoretical, epistemological, methodological and practical ways of being, knowing and doing, thus limiting in particular Indigenous world views which in most cases are holistic and intergenerational (see for example Smith et al., 2019; Yunkaporta, 2019). This means that academic endeavours are generally separated from other parts of peoples’ lives, which is contrary to te ao Māori and most indigenous world views – where it is believed that everything is connected, impacting how we live, how we work, and how we practice. Kaupapa Māori Theory has been described as the ‘conceptualising of Māori knowledge, and as Hapeta et al. (2019, p. 481) argue:

Indigenous worldviews are theory, as Indigenous philosophical paradigms typically assume relational ontology, which is about place-based existence and practices that link to particular territories. For most Indigenous peoples, there is no theory-practice divide.

The tendency to separate and privilege theory from practice is evident in the academy, as seen for example in the Sport Management Review Special Issues on theory in 2013. Much of the theory used and interpreted in sport management is developed in the west, in English language publications. In privileging theory, or more specifically the western view of theory, are we marginalising indigenous world views and ways of knowing? The UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples was signed in 2007, however it has only been in the last 10 years that there has been a rise in indigenous voices across the world. The UN estimates that there are over 476 million indigenous people living in 90 countries across the world, representing more than 5000 distinct groups. Despite these numbers, we know that Indigenous voices are marginalised and seldom heard in the mainstream publications of the academy. We also know that organised sport has either been culturally appropriated (for example lacrosse, Holmes et al., 2023) or used as a colonising tool (for example rugby union, Hokowhitu, 2009) with regards to Indigenous peoples. In many colonised countries Indigenous peoples have been early and eager adopters as athletes in sporting endeavours introduced by colonisers and some experience enhanced individual social and cultural capital as a result (for example Hallinan & Judd, 2013). However, being early adopters as athletes of colonised sports has not transferred to equivalence in leadership and management positions (Khatibi et al., 2023). If a gender lens is applied to these two areas, we also know that Indigenous women are even more marginalised (Palmer & Masters, 2010; Stronach et al., 2019).

Having provided the context within which this article is framed and established our positionalities, we next provide a snapshot in time of what work has been published on indigenous issues in Sport Management Review (SMR), Journal of Sport Management (JSM) and European Sport Management Quarterly (ESMQ), and then in other journals on indigenous issues and sport management. It is important to note that it is impossible to cover all indigenous perspectives and that too often indigenous groups have been homogenised (Thomson et al., 2010) and seen as one when in reality they are multiple distinctive groups, with both shared and different ways of being, knowing and doing. Secondly, given our findings about the lack of research and the lack of research on indigeneity and sport governance specifically, Bevan and Farah provide insights from their lived experiences of governance within three different Aotearoa sport organisations, using Distinguished Prof. Hingangaroa Smith’s (Smith, 1997; Smith & Smith, 2019) Ringa Raupā approach as the frame. We will conclude by summarising how the articles of Te Tiriti guide our practices in academic and sport contexts, as these surface the key considerations around being indigenous and non-indigenous researchers and practitioners on a daily basis and raise questions for readers to consider in their specific circumstances.

What has been done

It is important to note that the concept of a literature review has been challenged by indigenous researchers (Tynan & Bishop, 2022), given its focus on printed material, which excludes other forms of knowledge, such as chants, art work, stories and elders. Similarly, we concur with Tynan and Bishop (2022) that in the case of this review it started with our own lived experiences, the people we know, the spaces we move in and the combined knowledge we hold, in addition to what we found via the conventional route of identifying what has been published in the field. In keeping with Tynan and Bishop (2022) we have sought to identify whether the author(s) is/are indigenous and their tribal affiliation(s) recognising that indigenous knowledge is not homogeneous (McKinley et al., 2019), as this gives us insights into whose voices are being made visible and heard. This is important in order to establish “if they are speaking from or speaking about Indigenous peoples and knowledges” (Tynan & Bishop, 2022, p. 8)

Our approach and findings

Adopting the approach used by Chen and Mason (2018), Knoppers et al. (2022) and Singer et al. (2022), we searched the three main sport management journals (SMR, JSM, ESMQ) via their individual websites and via Sport Discus, using the search terms “indigenous or first nations or aboriginal or native”. This resulted in 21 articles. A further search was done more broadly via Sport Discus focusing on peer reviewed articles in English with the search terms “sport management” AND “indigenous or first nations or aboriginal or native” returning 143 records. After removing duplicates and those already identified via the individual journal search, and not relevant articles, another seven articles, were reviewed. For the purposes of this review these 28 articles (see Table 1) were considered.

Table 1. Articles reviewed listed in chronological order (shaded ones focus of article).

Year	Author(s) indigenous in bold	Journal
1999	David R. Thomas & Lorna Dyall	SMR
2010	Alana Thomson, Simon Darcy & Sonya Pearce	SMR
2010	Larena Hoeber	SMR
2010	Farah R. Palmer & Tina M. Masters	SMR
2011	Matthew Nicholson, Russell Hoye & David Gallant	JSM
2012	Bruce H. Mackinnon & Liam Campbell	Sport in Society
2014	Bevan Erueti & Farah R. Palmer	Sport in Society
2015	Bronwen Dalton, Rachel Wilson, John R. Evans, & Steve Cochrane	SMR
2015	Chris Hallinan	International Review for the Sociology of Sport
2015	David Gallant, Emma Sherry & Matthew Nicholson	SMR
2016	Farah R. Palmer	International Journal of the History of Sport
2016	Eric MacIntosh, Alexandra Arellano & Tanya Forneris	ESMQ
2017	Rochelle Stewart-Withers, Koli Sewabu & Sam Richardson	SMR
2018	Chen Chen & Daniel S. Mason	JSM
2018	Moss E. Norman, LeAnne Petherick, Eric Garcia, Gordon Giesbrecht & Todd Duhamel	Sport, Education & Society
2019	Megan Stronach, Hazel Maxwell & Sonya Pearce	SMR
2019	Chen Chen & Daniel S. Mason	JSM
2019	Jeremy Hapeta, Rochelle Stewart-Withers & Farah R. Palmer	JSM
2019	John N. Singer, Sally Shaw, Larena Hoeber, Nefertiti Walker, Kwame J.A. Agyemang & Kyle Rich	JSM
2020	Kieran James & Yogesh Nadan	Soccer & Society
2020	Eivind Å Skille & Josef Fahlén	ESMQ
2020	Jack T. Sugden, Nico Schulenkorf, Daryl Adair & Stephen Frawley	SMR
2020	Rob Millington, Lyndsay M.C. Hayhurst, Audrey R. Giles & Steven Rynne	JSM
2021	Joshua D. Vadeboncoeur, Trevor Bopp & John N. Singer	JSM
2022	Ashlee Morgan & Violette Wilk	Sport in Society
2022	John N. Singer, Kwame J.A. Agyemang, Chen Chen; Nefertiti A. Walker & Nicole E. Melton	JSM
2022	Zack J. Damon, Sarah I Leberman, Janelle E. Wells, Laura Burton, Lesley Ferkins, Jim Weese & Jon Welty Peachey	JSM
2023	Eivind Å Skille, Kati Lehtonen & Josef Fahlén	ESMQ

Following a review of these 28 articles, six were excluded as they focused on postcolonialism (Chen & Mason, 2018), settler colonialism (Chen & Mason, 2019), whiteness (Vadeboncoeur et al., 2021), blackness (Singer et al., 2022) and the importance of considering indigenous methodologies and/or approaches in research and practice (Damon et al., 2022; Singer et al., 2019; Vadeboncoeur et al., 2021) in sport management. Whilst there were two other articles that were about indigenous peoples, they did not specifically include indigenous voices or engagement with indigenous peoples and hence were excluded from the review (Millington et al., 2020; Morgan & Wilk, 2021).

Of the 20 articles it became apparent that 11 included indigenous authors, and of those, four articles were by indigenous authors only (Erueti & Palmer, 2014; Hapeta et al., 2019; Palmer, 2017; Palmer & Masters, 2010). All of these are talking from a Māori perspective in Aotearoa and all include the same author Professor Farah Rangikoepa Palmer. Two of these articles were published in the main sport management journals, both special issues – one in SMR (Palmer & Masters, 2010) and one in JSM (Hapeta et al., 2019).

Every effort was made to ascertain whether authors identified as indigenous. This has become increasingly easier to determine, as authors now often identify their positionality. Where this was not disclosed, internet searches were conducted and/or emails sent to authors to seek this clarification.

Table 2 groups the articles by theme. The articles by Erueti and Palmer (2014), Hapeta et al. (2019), Thomson et al. (2010) and Stronach et al. (2019) are listed twice, as they make methodological as well as thematic contributions. Of these 20 articles, nine were published in SMR, three in ESMQ and two in JSM. The remaining six articles were from other sport focused journals. As can be seen from Table 2, six articles make Indigenous methodological contributions, six focus on a sport for development perspective, three focus on community building, two are general overviews – one of Māori in Aotearoa and one of Aboriginal people in Australia, with two each on leadership, elite sport, sport participation and health outcomes and one focusing on volunteering. Seven of the articles were from Australia, with three specifically identifying the aboriginal communities they were working with (Yolunga community of Yirrkala, North East Arnhem Land, Northern Territory, Sydney and West Flinders Island and Warlpiri). Five articles were from Aotearoa not focusing on any specific iwi (tribe) or hapū (sub-tribe). Three were from Canada, and involved indigenous peoples from Moose Cree First nation, Ontario, Placid, Manitoba and Plains Cree and Plains Saulteaux, Saskatchewan. Two articles were based in Fiji, giving voice to Indigenous Fijians iTaukai. Two focused on the Sámi of Norway and Finland, and one article focused more broadly on Pacific peoples.

Table 2. Articles grouped thematically (*indigenous author).

THEME	SPEAKING FROM, ABOUT or BOTH
Indigenous theory/approaches Thomson et al. (2010). *Palmer, F. R (Palmer, 2017). *Stewart-Withers, R., *Sewabu, K., & Richardson, S (Stewart-Withers et al., 2017). Stronach et al. (2019). *Hapeta et al. (2019). *Erueti & Palmer, 2014; Hapeta et al., 2019.	Both – AboriginalFrom - MāoriBoth – Pacific & iTaukaiFrom -Sydney & West Flinders IslandFrom – MāoriFrom – Māori From – Māori Both – Pacific & iTaukai From -Sydney & West Flinders Island From – Māori From – Māori
Sport For Development Thomson et al. (2010) *Gallant et al., 2015; Hapeta et al., 2019. MacIntosh, E., Arellano, A., and Forneris, T. (2016). Norman, M. E., Petherick, L., Garcia, E., Giesbrecht, G., and Duhamel, T. (2016). *Hapeta, J., *Stewart-Withers, R., & *Palmer, F (Hapeta et al., 2019). Sugden, J. T., Schulenkorf, N., Adair, D., and Frawley, S. (2020).	Both – AboriginalBoth - AboriginalBoth – Moose Cree First Nation, OntarioFrom – Placid, ManitobaFrom – MāoriBoth – iTaukai Both – Aboriginal Both – Moose Cree First Nation, Ontario From – Placid, Manitoba From – Māori Both – iTaukai
Community building Mackinnon, B. H., and Campbell, L. (2012). Skille, E. Å., and Fahlén, J. (2020). Skille, E. Å., Lehtonen, K., and Fahlén, J. (2023).	AboutFrom – SámiFrom – Sámi From – Sámi From – Sámi
General overview Thomas and Dyall, (1999). Hallinan, C. (2015).	AboutAbout About
Leadership *Palmer, F. R., and *Masters, T. M (2010). James and Nadan, (2020).	From – MāoriBoth – iTaukai Both – iTaukai
Elite sport Nicholson et al. (2011). *Erueti, B., and *Palmer, F. R. (2014).	From – AboriginalFrom – Māori From – Māori
Sport participation and health outcomes Dalton, B., Wilson, R., Evans, J. R., and Cochrane, S. (2015). Stronach et al. (2019).	AboutFrom – Sydney & West Flinders Island From – Sydney & West Flinders Island
Volunteering Hoeber, L. (2010).	From – Plains Cree & Plains Saulteaux, Saskatchewan

Focusing now on the 11 articles with indigenous authors there are some interesting findings (Erueti & Palmer, 2014; Gallant et al., 2015; Hapeta et al., 2019; James & Nadan, 2020; Nicholson et al., 2011; Palmer, 2017; Palmer & Masters, 2010; Stewart-Withers et al., 2017; Stronach et al., 2019; Thomas & Dyall, 1999; Thomson et al., 2010). In only two of the seven articles, which have a mix of non-indigenous and indigenous authors, were indigenous authors the lead (Gallant et al., 2015; Stewart-Withers et al., 2017). Furthermore, in one of these articles, whilst the lead author was indigenous, they were not indigenous to the people involved in the research. However, in many of the articles it was noted that the authors worked with indigenous people to gain access to the indigenous groups, but these people were not listed as authors or if they were, generally they were listed last. We would argue that without the indigenous people the research would not have happened, and therefore should be acknowledged and if critical to the research (it would not have occurred without them), be considered as lead author. Vadeboncoeur et al. (2021, p. 32) discuss whether reflexivity by White scholars is enough seeking to highlight “the power and privilege of whiteness as embodied by scholars who choose to conduct research with indigenous communities”. Chen and Mason (2019) strongly advocate for making settler colonialism visible in sport management research and practice, by acknowledging how the systems and structures of sport privilege settler societies. Whilst we agree with the arguments of both Vadeboncoeur et al. (2021) and Chen and Mason (2019), we also ask whether non-indigenous scholars should do research with indigenous communities and if so what are the critical considerations that need to take place? Why are they doing the research, similar to Vadeboncoeur et al. (2021) point about motivation and intentionality? Who is it for? Whose voices should be privileged? Who has sovereignty over the data collected and shared? Where will it be shared? What needs to be done to centre indigenous ways of knowing and indigenous voices?

Half of the articles highlighted Indigenous voices (10), of which three were indigenous women’s (Māori and Aboriginal) voices, one specifically from Indigenous men’s (Aboriginal) voices and the remaining six included both women and men (Māori, Sámi, Plains Cree, Plains Saulteaux, Placid, Aboriginal). Four articles were about Indigenous people, rather than hearing directly from them and six were a mixture of both.

What does this mean?

Our summary highlights that there has been a dearth of published research focussed on sport management and indigenous peoples, similar to the findings of Singer et al. (2022), in the context of Black scholars and the experiences of Black people in sport management. How then can the sport management academy and sport management contexts facilitate spaces for more indigenous voices to be heard? With the intention of relationship-building and to allow indigenous experiences in sport governance in particular to be heard, the next section uses the He Ringa Raupā framework to illustrate some of the challenges Indigenous academics negotiate when intersecting responsibilities as sport practitioners and academics.

He Ringa Raupā

To clarify how as tangata whenua we, Bevan and Farah, endeavour to develop the “callouses on our own hands” and the ways we have navigated our academic journeys, while facilitating a Kaupapa Māori agenda within national sports organisations through sport governance, we utilise the Five Tests to ascertain the veracity of Ringa Raupā, a Kaupapa Māori Approach (Smith, 1997). He summarises that if Māori academics have truly committed to empowered transformation as Kaupapa Māori researchers, we will have developed callouses on our hands, a marker of productivity that lead to practical actions and innovative change.

Māori human rights activist Moana Jackson argued that research is simply a way of telling stories and is part of a never-ending quest for knowledge. To assist in sharing some of our “practical actions”, we employ a customary Māori form of storytelling referred to as pūrākau (Lee, 2009). The use of pūrākau sustains a Kaupapa Māori research framework that is an organic method of Indigenous research methodology that gives meaningful theoretical space for developing an Indigenous critical commentary of `what counts as knowledge’ that leads to Māori transformative action. In order to show how the power of Indigenous research can centre Indigenous knowledge, we frame our pūrākau that critique, consider, and contemplate re-centring Māori knowledge within, outside, and in relation to our roles as Māori academics and board directors. It is an appeal as human actors – as “thinking beings” - to become change agents. To assist in continual persistent reflection and to maintain a course of Māori agentic trajectory, Smith and Smith (2019) provide Five Tests to ascertain the veracity of a Kaupapa Māori Approach, these are:

• Positionality

• Criticality

• Structuralist and Culturalist considerations

• Praxicality, and

• Transformability.

These are described next and exemplified by Bevan’s and Farah’s “practical actions” in academia and as board directors of Volleyball New Zealand and New Zealand Rugby and Sport New Zealand, respectively, highlighting how there is no research-practice divide for Māori (Hapeta et al., 2019).

(i) Positionality

In this opening statement we identify the profound impact of sport and how it became a major element of our identities. I, Bevan, regrettably relegated my Māori identity to seek the affirmation I received within the status of sport and acknowledge how issues of complicity and domestication were negotiated.

My siblings were highly regarded in the sporting community by both Māori and Pākehā (non-Māori primarily of European descent), evidenced by their popularity and the stories that would be told of them. Hence, I perceived sport as an avenue through which, they not only appeared and gained mana in the Māori world, but one of the few locations where they were revered by Pākehā and, therefore, appeared successful in Pākehā society as well. Thanks to their “robust support” aka “pressure to perform”, I was able to experience and enjoy a variety of sporting opportunities that aided in creating a secure sense of identity and belonging within the elevated societal status of sport.

I signed up for volleyball as a “dare” from my Māori mates, because we all perceived it as a very “white” sport – that was the “dare” component “could a Māori boy actually ‘fit in’?” Much to my surprise and to my Māori mates as well, I did, and hence they had inadvertently exposed that by participating in a sport that was dominated by Pākehā, aided in relieving the self – perceived notion of liability of being Māori. I chose to pursue indoor and beach volleyball into adult/senior level sport. While my time at the elite level was short-lived, I rarely experienced either implicit or explicit prejudice from my Pākehā athlete peers, coaches, management and those at the decision-making level. However, that was largely because I had already consigned my Māori heritage and all of the deficit and negative stereotypical cultural baggage that came with it.

For me Farah, things were different:

As a Māori woman who was raised initially in a Māori and then predominantly Pākehā context, I have always felt I didn’t quite belong in either. Sport created the connection to both my indigenous and colonial identities. I chose to study at a university far away from home, and felt a sense of physical and cultural distance from my Māori whānau (family), whenua (land) and friends. I found a few likeminded people through studying Physical Education, but I wasn’t considered a talented athlete, everyone else seemed to identify strongly with the programme, and I wasn’t sure who I was. I yearned to find my home away from home, my kaupapa whānau (family through shared purpose/passion) and eventually found my rugby whānau. There were more brown faces on the rugby field than there were in the lecture theatres, they were laidback and loved having a laugh, and if you were committed to the team and good at the game, you gained mana. My life as a rugby playing academic began. Playing rugby made me feel like a trailblazer (women at that time were mocked for playing), but also made me feel like part of the dominant group as rugby had a privileged position in Aotearoa and in post-colonial Māori communities since introduced by British. As a child, adult, and fledgling sport sociologist I was acutely aware I was engaging in a sport that both reinforced and challenged stereotypes, and I felt the power rugby had. How could I be a part of this culture that was based on hyper-masculine values and norms, where predominantly Māori men were offered some level of tokenistic citizenship, while knowing that I was potentially part of the machine that reinforced stereotypes and did not necessarily offer women and Māori the same benefits and cultural capital others in the sport gained? How could I use my privileged position as an academic, and eventually as the Captain of the national women’s rugby team to make a difference for Māori, women, and Māori women? At that time I didn’t know how or when but I knew that I had to try. I found my sphere of influence in sport governance.

(ii) Criticality

In this section Bevan begins to develop a critical perspective and employ critical theory tools (hegemony, unequal power relations) to unpack new formations of colonisation and identity reformation and reconciliation.

It took a while for me to acknowledge that forfeiting my Māori identity while participating in elite sport was linked to those ways of “being”. But at a deeper level I was merely acting – out the damage caused by aspects of colonisation and intergenerational assimilation. I owe those insights to my Māori lecturers when during the course of learning te reo Māori as a part of a post graduate qualification, spurred intense feelings and emotions to revise my opinions and beliefs. Reflectively, I acknowledge that I had relegated my Māori identity as a strategy of self-preservation because I had been led to believe that it was an impediment. Through my self-reflections as an athlete and researcher I have come to the realisation that I wished my Māori identity and participation in elite sport could have mutually coexisted. My current opinions are that although wearing the silver fern – a symbol revered in Aotearoa sport representation – had a profound impact on my identity as a volleyball athlete, the labels New Zealander and Kiwi do not describe me as intimately as the links I have to Māori demarcations of geography. For me, the invisible strands of whakapapa (ancestry) and tūrangawaewae (place to stand) that connect me to my Māori identity are links that are an incredible treasure that I have come to cherish.

I, Bevan, began to understand that my Māori identity and the markers of cultural identity that aid to define “who I am” are an inspiration that I no longer conceal from the scrutiny of people.

Farah’s experiences are slightly different:

I knew politics existed in sport and that sport itself was political, and I naively wanted to influence that. But how? I became the captain of the national women’s rugby team at a time when men’s rugby in New Zealand was not performing well on the international stage. Was I an opportunist or a wayfinder? I’m not sure, but when I saw the opportunity to raise the awareness of women’s rugby through the media and through public speaking I took it. I wrote my Honours dissertation on the subculture of women’s rugby in New Zealand, and tried to influence local, national and international organisations in rugby through advocacy and visibility. I started to get invited to be part of government panels reviewing the structure of sport in New Zealand and the place of alcohol advertising in sport. I was asked to put in a bid to review rugby programmes and be part of the Sport Disputes Tribunal. It was all a bit of a whirlwind, and at the time, there weren’t many other high profile Māori who straddled academia and sport. Ultimately, the politics of my existence has always been to make a difference to the people that I felt did not have many (if any) voices at the table – Māori and women. That was the criticality that drove me initially as a Māori woman to stay in this space.

(iii) Structuralist and culturalist considerations

Farah’s narrative describes how her life is impacted by the ideology and power of sport as a means for social mobility. It illustrates how sport can be internalised as an institution that simultaneously can be a site of transformation and a site of colonization and consequently, a site of contestation of culturalist and structuralist imperatives.

I am constantly fascinated by the “dance” that occurs between human agency and structural constraints, and have struggled to navigate a balance over multiple sites as a “rugbyhead academic” or “pracademic”. I retired from playing in 2006 and was relieved that I had something else to occupy me (my academic career) when I knew many ex-players didn’t. I was always aware that this rugby gig was a flash in the pan, and I had to have something else to engage in, and being an academic allowed me to use my experiences, networks, and knowledges gained through action and reflection to continue the structural and cultural considerations. I supervised and examined theses on themes that wove together identity, ideology, and indigenous women’s rights and experiences. Early in my career I wasn’t brave enough to challenge the academic system directly (I was playing by the rules and didn’t even know the rules were up for debate). I didn’t consider myself an exceptional academic, didn’t tend to publish in A/A* journals, was hardly ever the lead author, and struggled with the regimented guidelines and parameters of academic writing. Furthermore I was still trying to influence across multiple sites with sport and rugby-related opportunities presenting themselves to me post-retirement. I often thought about quitting academia. Was I really making a difference to Māori and women through my publications, teaching and citizenship? When I was doubting this path, an ex-student would get in touch and thank me, or someone would say they read an article I published, or they saw me talking at a conference or event. That kept me going, and as I grew wiser, and definitely more politically savvy, I did push against what was considered publishable, and which journals were considered best for my reputation and career advancement. I wanted to get a mana wāhine (empowering Māori woman’s) perspective out there, and I decided to do more of what I was good at – teamwork and storytelling. I collaborated with others who I knew had way more mana and mātauranga than me. Perhaps the lessons I’d learnt from my Māori upbringing regarding whanaungatanga (kinship), kotahitanga (unity) and manaakitanga (caring), and the values of teamwork, determination and resilience that I’d learnt in sport kept me in the academic game longer than I ever thought I’d be.

(iv) Praxicality

Praxis is defined as the need to constantly engage in a critical cycle of action, reflection and reaction, essential in maintaining transforming work that is contemporary and relevant, Bevan continues:

The growing expansion of sport commercialisation, consumerism, professionalism and globalisation, accompanied with the increase of Māori athletes appearing on the world stage, necessitates a culturally responsive adaptation that reflects the values and belief systems at both the ground-level (coaches, managers and administrative staff) and most certainly at the national leadership and governance level. Becoming a member of the VNZ governance board indicates my desire to have a “practical” impact on the volleyball community and build on my capacity to contribute to action. Praxis, however, also requires persistent reflection so that accountability, responsibility, and renewal are vigilantly reviewed.

Similarly for Farah:

The opportunity to learn through action and reflection has been the greatest opportunity for growth in my careers as an academic and now as a governor of sport as the first female member of the NZ Rugby Board in 2016 and as a member of Ihi Aotearoa (Sport NZ Board). I used to instinctively reflect on my intentions, expectations and performance in sport, but it was harder for me to do in academia and now as a board director. As my confidence grew in academia and sport governance by seeing what impact I was having in some areas, rather than trying to “fit into” the matrix, I realised through praxicality that I needed to focus on what my strengths were, and where my passions were and to be unapologetic about the stance I was taking in research, writing and praxis. Of course that meant that many of the journals with high rankings would not accept my or our manuscripts. It felt like I was playing women’s rugby all over again in the 1990s where we were pushed to the back fields, trained with no lights, or received jerseys and changing rooms after the men’s teams had finished with them. We grumbled and demanded better treatment, and eventually we got it. It helped that women’s rugby was gaining a higher profile.

(v) Transformability

Smith’s and Smith (2019) final test highlights that Māori researchers and scholars must move beyond individual self-interest and instead emphasise a collective approach to Māori interests.

Bevan noted:

The realm of elite sport is a fundamental social phenomenon within Aotearoa NZ that portrays dominant societal ideologies and hegemonic systems. Now a member of a national governing body, I am deeply interested in promoting te ao Māori and the presence of Indigenous knowledge. The dissemination of such knowledge cannot simply rely on my lived experiences as an insider of Volleyball but also the critical understandings of Indigeneity in relation to Māori ontology, Māori epistemology and Māori axiology. That is, I firmly believe that Māori knowledge and elements of culture hold the key to a secure national identity while also giving insight to the existential experiences of Māori and our Māori communities.

Leveraging from my experiences as an Associate Dean Māori, has made it relatively easy to inform VNZ on the explicit recognition to demonstrate an authentic commitment to Te Tiriti through transformative actions. Indeed, since my appointment, the robust discussions have been met with an openness that can only be described as empowering and transformational. The results of which have been; the formal appointment of a Māori (Kaiārahi) Lead role within the operations office of VNZ to amplify, develop and support quality volleyball opportunities for whānau, hapū [sub-tribal] and iwi tribal] organisations; the use of te reo Māori during live stream coverage of national tournaments implemented for the first time in 2023 and; the development of a Māori Leadership group made-up of Indigenous representatives from across the 15 national regionally-based associations to assist in our culturally informed praxis in all areas of operation and strategy.

Bevan’s pūrākau reveals that to meet the aspirations of Māori in sport requires an interpretation and application of Te Tiriti that is not only pragmatic, but must be progressive so that new spaces within the unfolding bicultural rhetoric of sport in Aotearoa can be realised. It is about encouraging Māori interests while understanding the political nature and competitive funding constraints that NSO’s operate within. Perhaps, what would be transformational is that Te Tiriti objectives, rather than performance-based measures are prioritised when applying for a share of the limited government resources.

Farah highlighted that:

As an indigenous scholar I didn’t see indigenous ways of doing research and sharing knowledge being celebrated in sport management journals too often. Special issues and edited books were one way to get better treatment and a higher profile. Publishing with postgraduate students was also effective as their enthusiasm and belief they could change the world was infectious. My Massey colleagues also became my Kaupapa whānau, and were generous with their time, patience, and guidance. I feel I have calloused hands in sport leadership, academia and governance after a decade in these roles and have been a part of some significant shifts with the adoption of the Women and Girls in Sport, Physical Recreation and Play Strategy, constitutional changes at the NZ Rugby Board level creating more diverse voices around the table, hosting a successful Rugby World Cup 2021 (played in 2022) tournament in New Zealand, and establishing Te Taumata (Māori Board) as part of Ihi Aotearoa. These, like the Rugby World Cups I’ve been in are wins I’m very proud of. And because of those calloused hands, I feel I can start transforming these spaces. The academic space has been the hardest to crack.

We, Bevan and Farah, have come to recognise that our actions will not necessarily result in perfection, the work may remain incomplete, but we hope we can make meaningful contributions that will result in improvement, allowing courage to flourish and action to follow. We believe that Māori approaches hold the answer to many of our current societal issues – climate change, health inequality, education and sport governance, but it requires authentic, vulnerable leadership that is transparent and promotes open culture. Access to information is important – control of information is hierarchical and harmful. Transformative change requires confronting and addressing the work’ on-self’ so that we continue to grow, learn, adapt, and transform. If we ignore this simple truth, we risk betraying our ideals and values, and we have come to learn that values shape our behaviour, allowing us to draw upon a reservoir that enables us to dig deeper. Indeed, our hands have more work to do before they are truly “calloused”. Academia and sport provide tangible, and visual evidence of Indigenous difference that can challenge the systemic production and reproduction of dominant, cultural interests that result from the societal condition of unequal power and social relations.

Returning to where we started this article

As leaders in different contexts within our University and in our sports organisations as board directors, it is our responsibility to ensure that obligations and responsibilities to Māori are being met (Article 1 of Te Tiriti o Waitangi). The only way to know what these responsibilities are is to engage with Māori expertise, and talk to Tangata Whenua and Māori communities within and external to our organisations. All attempts were made to construct this article in the spirit of partnership and to engage with each other in a respectful way as Tangata Tiriti and Tangata Whenua, while also acknowledging mana wāhine and mana tāne.

How as academics and sport board directors do we support tino rangatiratanga (Article 2 of Te Tiriti) and create space for Māori to have the ability to decide what is best for Māori. In 1840 tino rangatiratanga was the complete independence of hapū groups as sovereign nations, today it’s more about Māori collectives that include hapū, iwi, whakapapa whānau and can also extend to kaupapa whānau (collectives with shared interests that may or may not have shared ancestry). As researchers, do we ask Māori what they want to explore, critique, challenge, construct through the research process? In our professional roles, how do we support tino rangatiratanga in all that we do? It is our responsibility as Tangata Tiriti and Tangata Whenua to assure Māori have equity of access to, and participate as Māori fully within, the University and our sporting organisations. There are programmes, scholarships, and qualifications that are led by Māori for Māori and are supported by Tangata Tiriti. The challenge here is that the pipeline is not effective at recruiting, retaining and developing Māori academics and leaders within sport. It is also difficult to support self-determination when economic rationalisation, centralisation, journal rankings and publications are the dominant discourse and thus create competing interests and priorities.

Article 2 also refers to taonga that can be tangible and intangible and their active protection. There are many taonga in te ao Māori. Matauranga Māori, tikanga Māori, and te reo Māori are three taonga we must actively work to recognise, protect, revitalise and maintain within our academic and sport spaces. This can be difficult when only about five percent of staff are Māori within our university, generally less than two percent are in leadership and governance roles within sport. Due to the process of colonisation those fluent in te reo Māori or deeply knowledgeable about mātauranga Māori and tikanga Māori are also rare in sport leadership, but things are changing with total immersion kura (schools) and the reo Māori movement going from strength to strength. The “organisational” divisions, particularly within the university also have varying levels of understanding of Māori worldviews, knowledge, customs and language. It can be exhausting for Māori staff to constantly have to ensure taonga are not only protected, but also promoted and prioritised. This also requires someone (collectively or individually) to determine when tikanga, te reo Māori and mātauranga Māori should be applied, and when it should not. Is it a safe time and place to do so? What is the intention of doing so? Is the application of these taonga done in a respectful and authentic manner or is it tokenistic or done with resentment? Are those who are using and/or appreciating the taonga aware of the many layers of meaning and interpretation? Who has control over how these taonga are integrated and applied within a system which is still dominated by a Western/Pākehā worldview? How as Tangata Whenua do we integrate taonga in a way that aligns with the provisions and principles of Article 2 and also ensures protection from harm? How can Tangata Tiriti best actively support and advocate for the systems change that needs to take place in order to help realise these provisions?

Article 3 in Te Tiriti is about equity of access, participation and outcomes. How do we ensure that Māori have this compared to other groups in our organisations? Equity does not necessarily mean being treated the same, so to achieve equitable outcomes how do we justify a different approach, programmes, set of rules, and expectations if necessary? How do we cope with arguments of fairness, one rule for all, double-dipping, special treatment, discrimination? How do we as academics and sport board directors ensure Māori have access to opportunities, and to advance through opportunities to extend, explore and discover?

With regards to Article 4 how do we ensure that spiritual values and practices of Māori are expressed and protected? This often causes conflict and unease with other spiritual beliefs of colleagues and students within our organisations, and in secular societies, this is often frowned upon. Do the rights of Māori supersede all other spiritual customs in Aotearoa? If the organisation claims to be Tiriti-led, should not all official ceremonies and occasions acknowledge ngā ritenga Māori? How does this work hand in hand with the rights of individuals to express their spirituality? Does this even matter with regards to academic and sporting processes, outcomes and outputs?

Conclusions

We started with our reservations about doing this paper. However, given the paucity of Indigenous voices in the sport management literature we felt it was important to share our knowledge gained from working in the overlaps and margins of research and praxis as “ringa raupā”. In most cases an indigenous worldview is about relational interdependence. So it is not surprising that in Aotearoa, the context within which we as researchers and sport leaders attempt to contribute and transform, the concept of Ringa Raupā is applied, because it is about acknowledging that research and practice are interdependent. He Ringa Raupā was applied in this paper by illustrating how it related to the reflections of Indigenous scholars, Bevan and Farah, in academia and sport as Tangata Whenua from a mana wāhine and mana tāne perspective. Sarah as a woman and Tangata Tiriti also has calloused hands in her efforts to genuinely partner with Māori in sport and academia and to transform the sport system for women and girls.

Fundamentally, whether we are Indigenous or not to the place where we reside, belong, work, are connected to – we need to challenge the existing structures which have by and large been created by white men for white men- the systems and structures of both the academy and sport. It is overdue to codesign these systems and structures together with Indigenous peoples so that they are fit for purpose. We risk keeping the box the same and trying to retrofit other worldviews, rather than creating something new, that does not in our case, separate research and practice, instead it is seen as holistic and interconnected. Through the process of writing this article, we have demonstrated how He Ringa Raupā can be applied to both sport practice and research, and how a relational approach between Tangata Tiriti and Tangata Whenua can create a way forward that could be transformational for the sport management academy.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

No funding was received for this work.