Abstract
Collective leadership is cast as a new and emerging paradigm. However, for many Indigenous communities, collective leadership has been a way of life through the millennia. Where mainstream models of collective leadership focus on what people do, think, and feel in the here and now, we argue such an approach ignores contributions of other generations. The Māori ecosystems view set out in this article positions a revolutionary departure from previous work on collective leadership because of the extraordinary set of relationships it encompasses, including those across generations and across living and non-living entities. Meeting this special issue’s call for innovative research methodologies, our work is informed by the ancient practice of wānanga, which challenges secular, reductionist, quantitative research. Wānanga traverses time and space and involves a quality of consciousness that brings forth an integrated collective intelligence. Inquiring into three watershed leadership moments, we show that collective Māori leadership is an ecosystem held together by activating a knowledge code, cultivating ties of affection, and working the tensions. Unlike the ‘new broom sweeps clean’ approach where incoming leaders tend to discard the work of predecessors, true collective leadership is an integrated ecosystem sustained from one generation of leadership to the next.
Keywords
Introduction
The purpose of this article is to contribute an ecosystemic conceptualization of collective leadership. This ecosystems view is a revolutionary departure from previous scholarship, not just on leadership but also collective leadership, because of the extraordinary set of relationships it encompasses, including those across generations and across living and non-living entities. In developing this contribution, we pay attention to establishing a connection between Māori leadership practices and resonant sub-streams of the collective leadership literature. For example, collective leadership (Friedrich et al., 2016) and its trajectories—including relational (Cunliffe and Eriksen, 2011; Uhl-Bien, 2006; Uhl-Bien and Ospina, 2012), pluralistic (Foley and O’Connor, 2013; White et al., 2016), and distributed (Gronn, 2002; Spillane, 2005, 2012)—is frequently portrayed by leadership scholars as a paradigm shift away from hierarchical, vertical, and individualized leadership styles to collective, horizontal forms (Chrobot-Mason et al., 2016: 298; Cullen-Lester and Yammarino, 2016: 173; Friedrich et al., 2016: 312; Uhl-Bien, 2006). Such claims of a new or lost paradigm, while welcome, tend to overlook other culturally grounded precepts of leadership (Ospina and Foldy, 2009). From an Indigenous perspective, for which a body of academic published works exists, collective leadership as a phenomenon is not new or emerging, but has a deep history and contemporary forms continue to flourish in Indigenous communities.
In order to advance our perspective of collective leadership, we engage three core strands of knowledge: social-ecological systems (SESs) theory; Indigenous ecological knowledge (IEK); and a Māori worldview. These bodies of literature underscore our radical ecosystems view of collective leadership. From a western perspective, organizations have been arbitrarily cast as separate to the Earth. The view we posit is that organizations are living forms comprising a constellation of relationships that extend into communities and ecologies, and through time and space.
According to SESs theory, social-ecological systems are a coherent system of biophysical and social factors that interact in a sustained manner (Berkes, 2012; Berkes et al., 2008; Folke, 2006; Rotarangi and Stephenson, 2014). They are non-linear, perpetually dynamic, and include spatial and temporal scales, and natural, socio-economic, and cultural resources (Folke, 2006). These complex systems continuously adapt and are resilient. Scholars use SESs theory to stress that the delineation between social and ecological systems is imagined and arbitrary (Berkes et al., 2008). SESs is well aligned with a more recent renaissance in collective leadership that highlights collective behavior resulting from interdependent entities interacting in non-linear and dynamic networks of relationships (Cullen-Lester and Yammarino, 2016).
To foster further distinction, the second strand of knowledge is Indigenous ecological knowledge (IEK). IEK draws from LaDuke’s (1999) definition as the culturally and spiritually based ways in which Indigenous peoples relate to their ecology. IEK views Indigenous knowledge as both a repository of wisdom, and a dynamic process of new knowledge creation (Anderson et al., 2006; Battiste, 2000; Cajete, 2000; Durie, 1998; Nelson and Shilling, 2018; Rotarangi and Russell, 2009; Spiller et al., 2011a; Whyte and Cuomo, 2016). In terms of leadership, for many of the world’s Indigenous peoples, collective leadership is a dynamic philosophy founded upon bedrock principles designed to create cultures of identity and belonging, particularly salient in Indigenous communities. These ancient living systems of leadership are a pertinent source of learning for scholars and practitioners interested in collective leadership. Indigenous leadership is grounded in an animated world of affection between humans and cosmos, where we are evolving together—entwined in sacred kinship. Leaders, including those at the helm of organizations, are kaitiaki, active stewards, for the wellbeing of others in social-ecologies. The radical implication for collective leadership is for all leaders, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to take up the role of actively being stewards and caretakers of communities and ecologies in service of the wellbeing of others, including the environment. It involves mutual exchange and collective will and is sustained from one generation of leadership to the next.
The third and most defining facet of developing this ecosystemic view of collective leadership is harvested from within a culturally derived Māori worldview, mātauranga Māori, in which ancient wisdom provides the bedrock for guiding collective Māori leadership. This wisdom comes forth through proverbs, stories, parables, song, dance, and carvings that speak to the importance of relationships, reciprocity, and respect. It is through the collective will of others that leaders earn respect, not through self-proclamation and self-assertion (Henry and Wolfgramm, 2016; Katene, 2010; Mahuika, 1975; Marsden, 2003; Spiller et al., 2015). Specifically, we cohere collective Māori leadership (CML) set within an ecosystemic worldview that conceives of reality as a complex ‘Woven Universe’ (Marsden, 2003), practiced, tested, and refined through intergenerational praxis between an abiding knowledge system and lived realities.
Hence, this article is important for extending SESs theory by applying it to the field of collective leadership, for positioning IEK and mātauranga Māori knowledge in leadership studies, and for making a distinctive contribution to collective leadership theorizing. 1
With specificity to this special issue, we offer two distinctive contributions that advance the field of collective leadership. Our first meets the call in this special issue for innovative research methodologies. Our innovative research methodology is informed by the ancient practice of wānanga (glossed here as ‘to collectively deliberate deeply with intention’). Situated within the burgeoning field of kaupapa Māori research, which includes agentic conscientization, praxis, and transformation (Smith, 1999/2012), it is the most appropriate research position for this article, given the researchers’ insider knowledge and experience of Māori practices. In the field of collective leadership, this has required challenging and reshaping methodologies in order to create and amplify distinctive Indigenous contributions.
The wānanga process is both a methodology and a method which values attunement into phenomena, and as such, challenges the orthodoxies of reductionist, quantitative research. Wānanga traverses time and space and involves both process and a quality of consciousness to bring forth an integrated collective intelligence (Royal, 2011). Through wānanga—especially as we conceive of it in this inquiry into collective leadership—the distinction between researchers as separate from the field of their focus is dissolved, as it is no longer a study ‘about’ or ‘upon’, but from ‘within’. Thus, in the context of collective leadership we contemplate three watershed leadership moments that encapsulate nuanced notes of collective leadership.
Our wānanga process gives rise to the second main contribution of this work: an ecosystemic view of collective leadership. An ecosystemic view of leadership comprises a network of dynamic relationships between individuals and collectives. Māori leadership is exercised in many different types of spaces—such as tribal, corporate entities, social ventures, and community organizations—and their experiences have much value to offer the theory and practice of collective leadership.
We argue that in cultures where ecologies co-exist in dynamic relational systems, SESs and IEK, alongside ontologically derived understandings of leadership, will connect theory with methodology, thus contributing a robust and distinctive view of collective leadership. In order to illustrate this ecosystemic view of collective leadership, we engage the immense New Zealand kauri tree as a living metaphor.
Through the watershed ‘moments’ that capture Māori leadership in practice, we show that this dynamic set of relationships is an ecosystem held together in three key ways. The first is ‘activating a knowledge code’ that is transmitted from one network to the next through acts such as ritual, ceremony, proverbs, art, and performance. The second is ‘cultivating ties of affection’ which bind people to each other, place, and ecologies. The third is ‘working the tensions’, whereby tension, although it can be uncomfortable, is a necessary part of ensuring that leadership is honoring the knowledge code. In SESs theory, tensions are critical to developing resilience and adaptability, hence tension is requisite for robust collective leadership. These three aspects offer value for scholarly and practitioner inquiry into collective leadership, including the importance of multi-dimensional relationships, taking an intergenerational view, and working with the realities of tensions that ply the field.
This article begins with a review of collective leadership literature. Although by no means exhaustive, it highlights often decontextualized approaches to theory development in collective leadership. It also affirms that there is a lack of deeper spatial and temporal perspectives in the literature. This is followed with a discussion of our wānanga methodology and method. We present the findings of the wānanga and discuss these in the context of collective leadership and contributions to the wider field, including the presentation of the CML ecosystemic framework. This distinctive framework is designed to facilitate better understanding of collective leadership in service of the wellbeing of an interconnected, interdependent whole. The conclusion sets out the limitations of this work and areas for future research. A glossary of key Māori terms, with phonetics, can be found at Appendix 1.
Literature review: A renaissance in collective leadership
Collective leadership challenges our perceptions of leadership as an inherently individual attribute by arguing for the intrinsic value of followers as equally responsible for decision making, empowerment, and performance (Marion et al., 2016; Paunova, 2015; Sparrowe et al., 2001; White et al., 2016; Yang, 2006).
Collective leadership, the idea that leadership does not just comprise individual attributes and skillsets, was initially proposed by leadership scholars Katz and Kahn (1978) and Gibb (1954), who emphasized the concepts of ‘shared’ and ‘distributed’ leadership among groups and teams. In contrast to the great man theory of leadership, collective leadership asserts that leadership is a function of network dynamics such that individuals take on the mantles of leadership as well as followership over time (Chrobot-Mason et al., 2016; Gibb, 1954; Katz and Kahn, 1978; O’Shea, 2012; Quick, 2017; Serban and Roberts, 2016).
Friedrich et al. (2016) argue there are three dimensions crucial for the collective leadership process: communication; network development; and leader–team exchange. Within the communication dimension, behaviors such as information sharing, feedback exchange, establishing communication norms, and empowering voice have been demonstrated as crucial for collective leadership. Scholars such as Mayfield and Mayfield (2007) have emphasized the impact of leader communication styles on team performance and intention to stay. They found that leaders’ use of motivating language has a strong impact on workers’ intention to stay, such that a 10% increase of motivating language led to at least a 5% increase of intention to stay. Overall, these cases support the critical centrality of communication within collective leadership, particularly in how leaders and followers engage in two-way communication (Kramer and Crespy, 2011), how communication affects distribution of roles and tasks (Zhu et al., 2018), and how communication patterns develop through leader and members’ self- and other-knowledge (Carson et al., 2007).
Network development, on the other hand, can be understood as the interaction between actors which culminates in either the development of weak or strong ties dependent on four network principles: (1) relationship between actors; (2) embeddedness; (3) social capital; and (4) structural patterning (Balkundi and Kilduff, 2006; Cullen et al., 2012; Cullen-Lester and Yammarino, 2016).
At its core, collective leadership asserts the importance of trust within relationships as necessary in tackling wicked problems, particularly among teams, organizations, and institutions (Contractor et al., 2012; Cullen-Lester and Yammarino, 2016; Denis et al., 2001; McHugh et al., 2016; Mumford et al., 2012; Will, 2016). Trust, in this case, can be conceptualized as a dynamic process and can also be understood as both the cause and outcome of leaders’ and followers’ behaviors (Friedrich et al., 2016; Katz and Kahn, 1978; Pearce et al., 2014). This is particularly salient within leader–follower interactions through which leaders delegate roles and tasks to the follower, which the follower may either accept or reject (Hiller et al., 2006; Zhu et al., 2018).
In summary, in the field of collective leadership, scholars have drawn on social identity theory, network theory, and agency theory to extend the field (Venus et al., 2012). Resultant theories of shared, networked, distributed leadership resonate with the needs of practice as many organizations attempt to foster greater leadership capacity in order to get things done in organizations. In addition, through increasing refinements over the last decade, collective leadership continues to be associated with distributed, shared, relational, collaborative, participative, networked, emergent, dispersed, and democratic leadership (Bolden et al., 2011). The above review highlights that this renaissance of interest in collective leadership is timely and indeed has given rise to the need to focus more acutely on the importance of collective leadership for effecting positive pro-social and pro-environmental action (Ansari et al., 2013; Wolfgramm et al., 2015).
Yet, in spite of much progress, we argue the framing of a collective leadership ecosystem is missing a deeper spatial and temporal dimension and connection to a cultural habitus. This is particularly important because, as noted in the introduction, social-ecological systems are a system of biophysical and social factors that interact in a coherent and sustained way, are perpetually dynamic, and include spatial and temporal scales and natural, socio-economic, and cultural resources (Berkes, 2012; Berkes et al., 2008; Folke, 2006; Rotarangi and Stephenson, 2014). Hence, we turn to our third strand of knowledge, a Māori worldview, to inform an ontologically derived CML ecosystemic framework that taps into facets of being, existence, identity, essence, and possibility. The paradigm-challenging nature of our contribution to the field is amplified further in the following section.
Māori collective leadership: A multi-dimensional paradigm
A Māori worldview is underpinned by whakapapa, a sophisticated genealogical ordering of the world. Whakapapa is explained as the layering and ordering of relationships and events across time and space (Williams, 1975: 259). As a heuristic device, whakapapa articulates relationships of self with others, including ancestors, mountains, rivers, and sacred guardians. Whakapapa takes humans back to the point of singularity in Io-matua-kore (described as the supreme being; personification of light and the world of the living). Io as the point of origin is the coalescence of connectedness that recognizes that the ontological and epistemological unification with the natural world is what unites Māori (Henry and Wolfgramm, 2016; Spiller et al., 2011b).
In a whakapapa ordering of the world, all aspects of creation have a genealogy. Thus, not only humans but insects, birds, plants, rocks—every single aspect of creation belongs to a domain. For example, creatures of the oceans come under the domain of Tangaroa, the god of the ocean. These personifications offer a sophisticated view of an animated interconnected universe. The Māori system of whakapapa gives a powerful positioning for this article, reflected in its title of Paradigm warriors, which we unpack in the next section.
Paradigm warriors: Bring more light into the world
Leadership in a Māori paradigm is associated with being a rangatira. The word rangatira is made up of the ‘raranga’, meaning to weave or plait, and ‘tira’, which refers to a group, a company of travelers, or rays or beams of light (Williams, 1975). Rā is associated with light and is also the word for sun; ngā refers to pluralities; ‘ti’ refers to divine energy, which underpins the word tira; and ‘rā’ referencing to the impact of light on growth. Rangatira therefore conveys associations with light, growth, and divine energy (Spiller et al., 2015; Kingi and Tawhai in Wolfgramm, 2007). Whaea Rose Pere (2017, personal communication) explains the source of rangatira as rā ngāti rā—that humans are rā (light) who ngāti (belong to) rā (the light). This perspective reiterates that we are all rangatira, rā ngāti rā, humans with divine origins who belong to Te Ao Mārama, the world of light.
To be a leader, a rangatira, then, is to excel at weaving people together, to encourage or inspire others to go on a journey together, to exercise agency, and to light the way toward a world in which all flourish. One version of a creation story is that of Ranginui (Sky Father) and Papatūānuku (Earth Mother), who were bound in such a tight embrace that there was no light in the world. Their offspring, the gods, were trapped in perpetual darkness between their parents. One of the children, Uepoto, saw a crack of light and told his siblings, who all went to look. The children (except Tāwhirimātea, god of the wind) sought to separate their parents. Eventually, it was Tāne, god of forests, the progenitor of humans, who pushed Ranginui and Papatūānuku apart, thus letting in the light, and ushering in a new paradigm of existence on Earth. Humans reside within the domain of Tāne and trace their lines of descent to Tūmatauenga, the warrior god.
Temuera Hall (n.d.) offers a nuanced view of Tūmatauenga as warriorship. Hall deconstructs the word Tū-mata-uenga as referring to self-reflection, facing one’s demons, seeking perfection, selflessness. He emphasizes that humans, who stand in the domain of Tūmatauenga, must do battle with themselves, to face themselves and conquer their own demons to find a state of peace and balance—this is the nature of being human. Pokaia (Waka Huia, 2017) highlights the importance of returning to rongo, a state of peace, the power of listening to one’s heart, and that both Tūmatauenga and Rongo (war and peace) are ‘key pillars in our house, in ourselves and within the families’.
An ecosystemic view of collective leadership encompasses the view that the role of humans is to ensure that all things can unfold their potential and flourish (Marsden, 2003). In expressing collective leadership, our radical ecosystems view is a call for leaders, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to be paradigm warriors who see beyond the current reality through shafts of enlightenment. They fearlessly pursue enlightenment, oftentimes amid great struggle and darkness. Paradigm warriors do not settle for an existing reality if it does not serve the wellbeing of people and planet. They push the boundaries to make a change for the better, and in doing so they make difficult decisions. Being a paradigm warrior involves doing battle with oneself to fully realize one’s own potential and to help others achieve theirs.
Woven together: No ‘one’ is the leader
As noted in the above definition of rangatira, this approach to collective leadership is not about any one leader. Rather, it is a complex of roles and responsibilities, including as aunties and uncles, elders, wisdom keepers, orators, and genealogists. Even those who hold a leadership position at the helm of large, profit-oriented Māori corporations understand that they are a leader among others—one who stands with others, not over them (Mead et al., 2006; Spiller et al., 2015). Each person has rangatira qualities, and in a weaving process people come forward as needed to provide expertise and move back at other times. In many ways it is the process of weaving that forges and forms leadership qualities in the individual and in the collective. In this sense people are not typecast into leader or follower; instead, each is simultaneously a leader and a follower. CML is a way of leading that recognizes the textural whole and diversity in the group. Strength lies in weaving people together into a state of belonging (Spiller et al., 2011a).
CML connects well with Uhl-Bien’s (2006) view of organizational relationships conceived as networks of people engaged in an interplay between each other and the wider organizational system. Leadership is vested within the network as an interwoven interaction of relationships that influence each other. Uhl-Bien (2006: 655) describes a form of leadership which emanates ‘from the rich connections and interdependencies of organizations and their members’. Uhl-Bien offers a theoretical heuristic model of relational leadership. We extend this by locating leadership in dialectic praxis of theory emanating from a cultural worldview that informs practice (Henry and Wolfgramm, 2016).
A CML ecosystemic view also resonates with Drath et al.’s (2008) study of the integrative ontology of leadership in which leadership is viewed as an achievement of the whole collective, and the source of leadership is a culture composed of individual and collective beliefs and shared practices. Similarly, White et al. (2016) emphasize the shared and distributed aspects of formal and informal leadership. This view of leadership accords with that of Cullen-Lester and Yammarino (2016), who suggest that collective leadership resides in the interactions that constitute a network of relationships that emerges and shifts over time. A pluralistic approach is needed, say Foley and O’Connor (2013), if we are to fully meet the complex realities and multi-faceted demands of a socially constructed world and associated epistemologies and ontologies. Embedded in the idea of the network is that leadership is both claimed and granted (Chrobot-Mason et al., 2016). While Stohl and Cheeney (2001) suggest that even in a collective people may look for a strong leader who will galvanize cooperation, we contend that strength comes from the complex of people who have a commitment to a process and a shared purpose.
Thus, for CML, leadership is not about the ‘now’ people: CML views people as a reflection of the past and a link to the future of being and of possibilities. Whakapapa, genealogical layers, reminds people that they are part of a movement through time and space.
Methodology
We meet the call in this special issue by contributing an innovative research methodology to collective leadership informed by the ancient practice of wānanga (glossed here as ‘to collectively deliberate deeply with intention’). Situated within the burgeoning field of Kaupapa Māori research, with its focus on conscientization, praxis, and transformation (Henry and Pene, 2001; Pihama et al., 2002; Smith, 1999/2012), wānanga brings together ancestral wisdom (the people we interview are not just leaders, they are the living embodiment of whakapapa and representatives of a collective), our collective body of work and data, and our own experiences, including transmissions we have each received from Māori mentors and elders. From this standpoint, the notion of ‘data’ is a deeply limiting construct, and we prefer the term mātauranga Māori, an ontologically derived form of living and dynamic Indigenous knowledge. Kaupapa Māori research is acknowledged as being an Indigenous paradigm incorporating pluralistic epistemologies and spearheaded by Smith (1999/2012). Her work has influenced a wide range of Indigenous methodologies including Indigenous Standpoint Theory (Foley, 2003) and Talanoa Tongan research methodology (Māhina, 2010; Vaioleti, 2006). This growing body of scholarship seeks to illuminate Indigenous knowledge creation derived from Indigenous worldviews that have at their heart a belief in a sacred ecology and reverence for ancestral wisdom (see Fitzgibbons and Humphries, 2011).
Māori have a highly refined system for surfacing knowledge through the ancient process of wānanga, which is an integrated system of paradigm, methodology, and method. For centuries, wānanga have been essential to advancing mātauranga Māori. Kia Eke Panuku (n.d.) explain that wānanga involves creating knowledge within complex sensory environments and involves open and continuous learning that enhances the interaction between the spiritual, social, and physical.
Wānanga reinforces a view that there is nothing fixed or static about learning and gaining of knowledge. In a Māori worldview it is a dynamic process and involves creating a space where participants gather with intention to enter a state of deep knowing and to allow emergent insight to unfold. The holistic orientation of time—that is, not just being in the here and now—points to the notion of the perpetual present (Wolfgramm, 2007). In other words, there is no beginning and end to wānanga as a process: it is continual, dynamic, and interactive.
Ultimately, says Royal (2011), the purpose of the wānanga process is to enable the creative mind to come into being. He explains that a ‘tangata whai mahara’ is somebody who is alert, awake, and requires a particular type of intellectual dynamism. A tohunga guides the process, and is described as someone gifted in their ability, and steeped within their authority and mastery, who can bring forth new dimensions of creative insight for the benefit of communities. ‘Wānanga creativity’, says Royal (2011: 44), ‘is about activating and accessing the full powers and abilities of human consciousness and applying this for positive purposes’. Wānanga is a profoundly spiritual Māori approach protected under the skillful guidance of wisdom keepers steeped in tikanga (cultural protocols) and other important cultural processes.
While keenly aligned with phenomenology (Bortoft, 1996) and social constructionism that emphasizes a process orientation (Thompson, 2011) wānanga differentiates itself in important ways. The wānanga process contributes to collective leadership and organizational research by offering an ecosystemic integration of theory, methodology, method and analysis and does not treat these as discrete, divided and sequential activities. The implications for all researchers, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, are manifold. Research is seen as a process of dwelling holistically in deep contemplation with intention. Researchers are not separate to the field of inquiry, observing and staying at a distance such as an ethnographer might, the researcher is a vessel of knowledge creation through which insight flows. A reflexive autoethnographic experience (Cunliffe, 2003; Ellis and Bochner, 2000) resonates with wānanga, where participants bring themselves to the field, and privilege an insider’s view. Meyer (1998) has explored ike pāpālua, or ‘second sight’, which she says illuminates the deeper dimensions of knowledge—which accords with wānanga. Bergson (in Tsoukas and Chia, 2002: 571) captures this ethos when he says ‘dive back into the flux itself . . . turn your face toward sensation; bring yourself in touch with reality through intuition; get to know it from within’.
Tsoukas and Chia (2002: 571) argue perception is vital, and if we hope to yield insight and see what is salient, we need to cultivate awareness and pay close attention to the more nuanced, micro shades of change and process. For De Wit and Meyer (2005: 13), researchers need to move beyond taking ‘one cut of a multi-faceted reality’, and they similarly call for skillful tapping into intuition and creativity. They argue that ‘imagination and judgment are more important than analysis and logic’ (2005: 7). For organizational and leadership researchers the wānanga way has the potential to open new fields of insight that advance a holistic view connecting across generations and across living and non-living entities. Importantly, researchers of collective leadership are themselves a team working as a collective living ecosystem with relationships that extend in many directions, through time and space. Researchers too are called to be paradigm warriors and challenge the status quo if it is not serving the wellbeing of people and planet.
Pathways that resonate with this kind of methodological journey include Scharmer’s (2009) Theory U: Learning from the Future as It Emerges, which is an invitation for researchers to enter the deeper folds of reality through presencing, sensing, and awareness that calls us to ‘connect and operate from source’ with an open heart, mind and will (2009: 1). Another example is Goethe’s (Bortoft, 1996) way of dwelling in phenomena, which he describes as extra sensorial perception, through attuning the senses, developing powers of perception and trusting intuitive consciousness. These approaches beckon researchers from all walks of life to undertake the journey toward ‘theoria’ an ancient Greek word meaning ‘seeing’ that transcends rational thought and logic alone.
Streams of knowledge that inform this work
As a research team we held four key meetings over a period of 18 months prior to the wānanga which we describe in the next section. At these meetings (hui) we discussed the emergent findings of the qualitative phase of our research. The qualitative phase detected and established key trajectories that informed the quantitative survey design. This article presents findings from our qualitative phase and as such is a pivotal positioning paper.
There are three streams of knowledge flow that form our qualitative work. Stream 1: our amassed body of work. As a collective of four researchers, we have a combined 88 years as Māori academics working in the field of business, notably in the areas of Māori leadership, management, governance, and entrepreneurship. This body of work also includes an extensive personal digital archive collection of one of the researchers, a renowned documentary-maker. These digital archives provide a unique portal into Māori leadership dynamics as they include rare footage of rituals, ceremonies, events, and commentary in which collective leadership is demonstrated and discussed by Māori.
Stream 2: our body of lived experience. As well as amassing a wide body of scholarly works, we are each embedded in Māori communities in various ways. These ways include trusteeship on marae committees (marae are the central point of the traditional Māori community; in contemporary times they are a group of buildings which form the physical hub of Māori communities) and administrative bodies known as rūnanga; running workshops and training programs within Māori communities; engagement in cultural events and activities; and participating in Māori life as Māori. Each researcher is a living face of whakapapa (Māori ancestral lines).
Stream 3: our present study, which is grounded in a large research grant to study Māori leadership. We had conducted 15 semi-structured interviews with individual leaders who are widely considered to be leading lights in Māoridom and traverse spheres of tribal, public service, corporate, and community-based leadership. They were evenly split gender-wise, and each represents a different region of New Zealand. We also conducted four case studies that drew on the semi-structured interviews, archival footage, personal experience, and secondary data. Three of these case studies are featured in this article. The first is the Iwi Chairs Forum, in which one of the researchers holds a chair and was in a position to be a fully immersed participant observer. Through whakapapa all the researchers hold ties to the forum. The second case study is Ngātiwai, a tribal rūnanga (office), and we interviewed two of its trustees. One of the research assistants is related to this tribe. The third case study is the Wai Documentary, which represents a living, archival and ethnographic field permeated by the voices of our ancestors.
Step into our wānanga space
We then submitted ourselves to the wānanga process—which we held two times over the course of developing this article. In wānanga, members of a community focus their intention on the purpose, which, in the case of Māori, expands to an intergenerational view. Participants need to be self-inquiring and reflexive, and to shed limiting mental models so that knowledge and insight can emerge and flow. It is important to note that all three streams of knowledge described above permeated our consciousness during the wānanga process to allow insight to flow through us from our experiences and conversations with research participants.
The wānanga was opened with an ancient karakia (incantation). Karakia is a declaration that invokes an unfolding reality. By stating intentions through karakia, humans create a pact between the spiritual world and the physical world (Spiller et al., 2015). Cajete (2000: 73) says of Indigenous traditions, ‘What we think and believe and how we act in the world impacts on literally everything. We bring our reality into being by our thoughts, actions and intentions.’ Karakia is a way of ‘connecting the human situation with a wider reality’ and its wider purpose is to ‘create a sense of unity’ (Durie, 2003: 84).
The tohunga who guided our wānanga is a highly regarded Māori intellectual. He posed important questions designed to challenge us to think beyond what we could see. In the wānanga, guided by our intellectual tohunga, we placed our intention on CML seeking to enter a deep state of knowing. We each had stories to share, moments that emerged into consciousness, and proverbs that came up as embodying a message from the past bequeathed to us by our ancestors. We shared poetry we had been reading and tohu (signs) that had been coming forward. Eventually we felt ourselves drawn to critical ‘watershed moments’ within the case studies that had become illuminated in our collective wānanga consciousness.
Analysis: Whakapapa
In terms of analysis, wānanga is a process through which knowledge emerges, is scrutinized and subjected to debate and dialogue among participants. Thus, the process is not carved into neatly defined sequential activities such as data collection, coding, and analysis—rather the process becomes a flow state—albeit one that was carried over two wānanga. Our analytical framework is based on whakapapa, the genealogical ordering of the world. We have described how humans are descendants of Tūmatauenga, the warrior, in the realm of Tāne, god of forests, and as such it is entirely appropriate and relevant that we draw upon Tāne, as epitomized by the kauri tree, as our analytical lens, which is set out in the discussion section. Whakapapa as an analytical heuristic makes sense of the world from a Māori standpoint, hence we have attained ontological and epistemological coherence between worldview-methodology-method-analysis-findings-discussion.
We also put ourselves to the test and subjected our work to community scrutiny as befits researchers who seek to embody CML. At an international Indigenous conference, we held a debate in front of a room of around 60 Indigenous scholars from around the world and argued the case for and against Māori as paradigm warriors and collective leaders. This forum honed our thinking on this present work, and we received valuable feedback from our Indigenous peers.
Findings
The wānanga process illuminated three revelatory watershed moments that bring into sharp relief the potency of collective Māori leadership in action. Focusing on watershed moments is like a laser beam of insight that cuts through a situation to reveal what is most crucial. In this section we provide an account of each of these watershed moments before setting out the results of our analysis, which captures an ecosystemic view of CML. These watershed moments challenge conventional collective leadership theorizing in a number of ways that are picked up in the discussion. The moments point to the deeper temporal and spatial dimensions of collective leadership that activate multi-generational wisdom and connectivity across human relationships with each other as well as to lands, mountains, oceans, rivers, and animals. In this view a song is not just an individual singing and others joining in, nor is a proverb a pithy cultural cliche or quote; these are ancient cultural and spiritual threads that weave people together and provide guidance on how to respond and act as a collective of rangatira (leadership). In this worldview individuals do not exist separately from the collective, and the collective is part of movement through time, connecting the past to the present, and the present to the future.
Moment 1: Iwi Chairs Forum
In Aotearoa New Zealand the Iwi Chairs Forum is an informal coalition of Māori who represent their tribes and tribal entities. The organization receives no government funding or statutory recognition; it is authentically independent and Indigenous. This is a platform (or network) for sharing knowledge and information between Māori. It meets four times a year, hosted by different tribes around the country.
Over 100 leaders gathered for four days in Wellington in December 2017. Toward the end of the hui, the newly elected Minister of Māori Development spoke about how the new government would interact with the Iwi Chairs, which stimulated lively discussion and reflected a change of relationship and rising tensions (see Cameron, 2018 and Mori, 2017 for other examples of these tensions). The meeting could have ended in acrimony, but someone on the organizing committee, a well-respected elder, stood and launched into a waiata (glossed as song and chant). It was a well-known Māori song, and all in attendance stood to sing. Waiata (song) are communal cultural customary messages that are sung united—most Māori will know the collective waiata and be able to join in. The songs are handed down through the generations and as such are the cultural threads that weave together the collective. Thus, waiata are cultural messages that collapse time and space as they weave the ecosystem of people, ancestors, lands, mountains, oceans, rivers, and animals together, connecting and generating the collective rangatira (leadership) spirit.
There was a palpable reduction in tension, as the mellifluous voices of those gathered joined in harmony, and a state of peace was established between all parties, reflected in the warm farewells that followed. Although this incident has not necessarily resulted in ongoing peace and unity between the new government and tribal leadership, or between the tribal leaders themselves, it offers an example of how those in government and tribal leadership can find accord by drawing on traditional cultural practices and values.
Moment 2: Ngātiwai
Ngātiwai are a tribe whose territory stretches from Auckland north and into the Hauraki Gulf in New Zealand’s North Island. The kuia and kaumātua (elders) of the Ngātiwai tribe had gathered together with their kin for the hearing of their testimonies before the Waitangi Tribunal. By way of brief explanation, the Treaty of Waitangi was signed by many (but by no means all) Māori tribal chiefs and representatives of the British Crown in 1840. Historical claims seeking redress are made by Māori groups against the Crown for breaches of the Treaty before 1992. Outcomes can include co-governance and management of the environment, commercial and financial settlements, and cultural redress such as renaming places in Māori language and protecting sites of spiritual significance. The claims process is deeply fraught, templated within a western system of law, and has pitted family against family. It is a big moment when a group comes before the Waitangi Tribunal.
For Ngātiwai a cross-witness process was invoked due to overlapping claimant groups from adjoining regions. One of these adjoining regions brought in an historical and cultural expert to counter Ngātiwai testimonies and oral histories. The expert vociferously denounced the elders of Ngātiwai, leaving the group demoralized and publicly humiliated.
The leader who shared this story with us said that this experience made them rethink whether to continue to participate in the claims process. They stepped back and used the space to breathe and regroup. After this defining moment, they determined to only follow a tikanga grounded path, a process guided by Māori protocols. The tensions between the Crown, Ngātiwai, and other tribes in the region have not abated, with Ngātiwai calling for ‘a tikanga based process on our marae to resolve the overlapping issues with iwi of Hauraki’ (Ngātiwai, 2018). The group reflected on their leadership style, and given they are a people connected to the many islands of the Hauraki Gulf by water, they are a water people, and their leadership is shaped by water (wai is the Māori word for water). They would move fluidly around their obstacles, and stay as one moving toward a purpose. Ngātiwai have gone on to develop significant business interests outside of the claims process.
Moment 3: Wai Documentary
We offer a specific example of Māori collective leadership based on the documentary Wai Documentary (Tangata Whenua Television, 2010). Wai, meaning water, highlights how Māori leaders were galvanized into action in response to a critical assumption by the government of the day that no one ‘owns’ water. The documentary canvasses Māori leaders’ opinions regarding the statement by the Prime Minister of the day that the New Zealand government ‘owned’ water in trust, on behalf of and for the benefit of all New Zealanders. Māori assert their rights as kaitiaki, stewards who have customary custodianship for water. The power of this leadership metamorphosed into a watershed moment when the Te Awa Tupua (Whanganui River Claims Settlement) Bill conferred a legal personality on the Whanganui River. Thus, as a legal person, the river is endowed with equal rights and responsibilities akin a person. However, importantly, Te Awa Tupua reflects the ancestral and spiritual ties of affection and kaitiaki (agentic stewardship) status between the Whanganui iwi and the river (New Zealand Parliament, 2017).
In the Wai Documentary Te Uruhina McGarvey, a rangatira woman of Tūhoe, asserts that ‘Kai roto ngā taniwha ō tēnā iwi ō tēnā iwi i roto i ō rātau wai’ (Powerful water spirits reside in the waters of every tribe), while Hikaia Amohia (quoted by Waikerepuru) proposed, ‘Ko Tangaroa te mana o te wai’ (The god of water, Tangaroa, is the supreme force and authority over water). Waikerepuru continues: ‘Ko Whanganui anō te iwi nō rātau te awa’ (It is the Whanganui people to whom the river belongs). The river and people are inseparable, as evidenced in a senior kuia from Whanganui, Manawanui Pauro, who quotes the proverb, ‘Ko te awa ko au, ko au te awa’ (The river is me, I am the river). Hone Sadler, a leader from Ngāpuhi, demonstrates the special relationship his iwi, Ngātiwai, has with water. Even their tribal name, Wai, means water. ‘Ōna tapu katoa . . . ōna mana katoa nō te wai’ (All the tribe’s sacredness comes from the water . . . all its power and authority come from water).
The documentary captures CML in action as, although these leaders comment individually, they are spurred to collective action by the threat of losing rights over water. They all assert powerfully that Māori have interests, rights, and ownership over water and provide a strong argument in a collective voice against the hegemony of the State.
Discussion: CML ecosystemic framework
Our findings through the wānanga process give rise to the second main contribution of this work: an ecosystemic view of CML that comprises three important aspects: activating the knowledge code; cultivating ties of affection; and working the tensions. We illustrate this ecosystemic view through the kauri tree in Figure 1, which offers both a theoretical framework and a practical basis to guide leadership. The kauri is kin to humans—both dwell in the domain of Tāne, the god of forests. Kauri are taonga, a precious species that embodies a spiritual link to the ancestors. The New Zealand kauri (Agathis australis) have existed for around 20 million years and belong to the Araucariaceae family of conifers. The largest New Zealand kauri alive today is Tāne Mahuta, who is estimated to be between 1200 and 2000 years old.

Collective Māori Leadership Ecosystem framework.
In Figure 1, the collective at the roots refers to the whole organization (the tribe, community, business, organization). Depicting the collective as roots references the belief that we are safe in our mother Earth, and is in distinct contrast to the evolution of western-styled models. For example, the first western organizational chart depicted the roots of the tree as the president and the board of directors (Rosenthal, 2013). In our CML ecosystemic view, the trunk of the tree represents the groups within the collective (such as the Board, sub-committees, and families), and the leaves of the tree represent individuals.
Activating the knowledge code
The ecosystem is held together by a ‘knowledge code’ that is transmitted throughout the networks in circularity. The knowledge code contains meaning as expressed through practices such as ritual, ceremony, proverbs, art, and performance, which help guide leadership action. This knowledge code drives the ecosystem toward flourishing. Activating the knowledge code galvanizes the wairua (spirit) of the collective and is a connector across generations and across people, animals, land, and sea—which is a much more expansive view of how ‘collective’ is rendered in the wider collective leadership theorizing. In each watershed moment, we observed a form of knowledge code being activated to bring a deeper awareness and sense of belonging to the collective. In the Iwi Chairs Forum, the singing of a waiata, much more than a song, is a living knowledge code that unites people to the past and future, and across human and non-human relationships, and facilitates spiritual connection to flow through all.
For Ngātiwai, proverbs were recited as an embodied dialogue that flows with meaning to guide action in a challenging situation. Woven through the Wai Documentary, proverbs are activated and identify where people stand on pressing issues.
The knowledge code is a way of tapping into and releasing collective intelligence that is transmitted from one generation to the next. Collective intelligence, in the Māori world, is often the unseen spiritual dimensions of energy such as mana (dignity, power), hau (reciprocity), and mauri (life force). The knowledge code is a powerful imprinting transmitted from one generation to the next, a formidable intergenerational memory bank held in the collective mind of various Indigenous groups, including Māori (Kelly, 2017). Where conventional models of collective leadership focus on what people do, think, and feel in the here and now our findings contend that such an approach ignores the contributions of other generations.
To affirm our tree metaphor further as an apt model that embodies a living system of collective leadership, we take up Wohlleben’s (2016) exploration of arboreal communication. Trees, he explains, pass wisdom through seeds and deal with challenging contexts in mutually reinforcing feedback loops that pass dynamically within the tree system and between neighboring trees and adapting to and with the environment. Activating the knowledge code supports and expands the scholarship on complex adaptive systems that are interdependent, resilient, and non-linear (Berkes et al., 2008; Cullen-Lester and Yammarino, 2016) and the dynamic knowledge creation found in an Indigenous ecological view of a sacred, animated, and co-evolving world (LaDuke, 1999).
Cultivating ties of affection
Each wānanga ‘moment’ reveals ties of affection that holds the collective together in a state of belonging. Tracing whakapapa (genealogy) to ancestors, kin, gods, and sacred places binds people to the world in a relationship that is built on a deep sense of abiding aroha (love). In this view of relationships, collective leadership cannot be fully realized through instrumental, transactional, and individualized encounters. Whakapapa reinforces mana (power, dignity, authority), which flows through individuals and the collective and forges an interdependent binding of each to each other and to Earth.
Māori leader Tame Iti (2015) explains of mana that ‘everyone has it. It’s about knowing who you are, where you come from, and connects you to your land. Mana grounds you. In the past, present, and future.’ An ecosystemic view of collective leadership, as a living system, is to be emotionally attached through mana to the world. In the Iwi Chairs Forum, each tribal leader stands in the mana of their peoples, their tribes, and specific relationships with place. In some cases, these tribes are not close, and indeed there may be historical animosity. Yet, in a crucial moment they come together through the waiata (song lines), which washes through them, holding them together in that circumstance. In the Wai Documentary, the ties of affection to ancestral waterways reverberate with deeply held emotional bonds. The orators draw upon knowledge codes, especially proverbs, to build their rhetoric and come together as a collective voice across time, space, and place. Ngātiwai leaders speak of their guardians, the birds who guide them, and the lessons learned from the land, ocean, and waterways that endow their leadership with particular characteristics, form, and action. They reach out to neighboring tribes, inviting togetherness through culturally sound protocols in the face of conflict.
Of our kauri tree metaphor, we take up Haskell (2017: x) who says:
Our ethic must therefore be one of belonging, an imperative made all the more urgent by the many ways that human actions are fraying, rewiring, and severing biological networks worldwide. To listen to trees, nature’s great connectors, is therefore to learn how to inhabit the relationships that give life its source, substance, and beauty.
Creating ties of affection links to Friedrich et al. (2016) and their emphasis on communication, networks, and the exchange between leaders and followers, which also points to the importance of trust (Contractor et al., 2012). CML is a living testimony to how important relationships are to carrying a collective forward.
Working with tensions
[L]iving networks [of trees] are not places of omnibenevolent Oneness. Instead, they are where ecological and evolutionary tensions between cooperation and conflict are negotiated and resolved. These struggles often result not in the evolution of stronger, more disconnected selves but in the dissolution of the self into relationship. (Haskell, 2017: x)
Being a rangatira, as part of a leadership system that involves a group working at uniting, inherently involves working with tension and resistance. Many Māori leaders operate in challenging contexts weighing up, balancing, and making conscious compromises between commercial and cultural values (Awatere et al., 2017; Nicholson et al., 2019). In negotiating these tensions, a balance is sought between oppositional forces without dropping into oppositional binaries such as leader–follower. As insider researchers familiar with Māori processes, we did not expect to encounter the scale of tension in collective leadership that we did. So widespread is tension and conflict, we initially thought that such conflict is dysfunctional and was tearing at the fabric of the Māori world. However, as our inquiry deepened, and especially as the ecosystemic tree metaphor took hold, we began to see that tension and the discomfort that it can bring may be a necessary part of testing the knowledge code and, perhaps paradoxically, cultivating ties of affection. Rather than labeling tension and conflict as bad, troubled or flawed, we started to see it as a possible key to why CML may have endured in the way it has. In resonance with CML, scholars in the wider literature—notably Fairhurst and Uhl-Bien (2012)—discuss leadership tensions. CML as an ecosystem is also consistent with SESs theory, which views tensions as stressors that cascade throughout the ecosystem forcing adaptation and transformation. This results in highly resilient institutions able to absorb shocks, learn quickly, resist unwanted change, and recover, thus facilitating long-term stability and growth (Berkes, 2012; Berkes et al., 2008). In particular, we saw this occurring in the middle groups (trunk) where the tensions can be the most heightened, and where the collective can break and factionalize into coalitions.
In Ngātiwai an internal debate tested leadership apropos external relations with neighboring tribes and the Crown. For the Iwi Chairs Forum there was a moment when the organization could have disbanded into coalitions and factions; however, the collective came together and maintained their united front. In the end, the time and energy consuming these debates served to galvanize the knowledge code and shore up ties of affection.
We have come to see how important the trunk (group) is to ensure the tree remains strong and can expand. The trunk is the link between the collective/roots and individual/leaves, a ballast of solidarity. Joseph et al. (2016) and Mika and O’Sullivan (2014) have noted that Māori decision making is undergirded by consensus. This communicative approach helps forge trust, commitment, and mutuality (ties of affection) as a result of healthy debate. The notion of consensus, however, is far from neutral. Our findings suggest it is not consensus per se that is important to Māori collective leadership, but the process of testing the conviction of the leadership role against the knowledge code, including purpose.
Conclusion
An ecosystem view of collective leadership is integral both theoretically and methodologically, not just for the collective Māori leadership but for the field as an operating principle of collective leadership. This article argues that collective leadership, rather than being a new and emerging paradigm, has been a way of life for millennia. We have amplified a radical paradigm position designed to extend the field of collective leadership studies through the development of an ecosystemic view of collective leadership. Our CML ecosystemic framework is predicated on the notion of developing a kinship culture where leadership is seen as movement through time, with each generation of leaders seeking to grow and enhance the collective toward intergenerational, interdependent flourishing. True collective leadership seeks to be enduring as a living system that is open to being tested and embracing of affective ties. This leadership grows paradigm warriors who do not settle for an existing reality if it does not serve the wellbeing of the people and the planet.
We have offered two distinct contributions in this article. First, in terms of methodology, we incorporate an innovative approach informed by the ancient practice of wānanga, thus challenging the orthodoxies of secular, reductionist research. Wānanga is to be an aware presence that allows knowledge to emerge and a collective intelligence to surface where humans are a living embodiment of whakapapa (genealogical layering). Whakapapa takes humans back to the point of singularity in Io, which recognizes our unification with the natural world. Thus, wānanga is to also hold nature as kin.
The second contribution is the CML ecosystemic framework composed of an interconnected network of entities held together by activating a knowledge code, cultivating ties of affection, and working the tensions. These aspects show how collective leadership can be sustained from one generation to the next. Our work points to the need for collectively oriented leadership to lean into the tensions and conflicts, putting it into the sharp relief of lived reality.
With regard to limitations: this article is situated within a particular cultural worldview and place which may be viewed as a limitation. Allied to this, researchers and practitioners may fear charges of cultural co-option and transgression. Furthermore, given we draw on Indigenous Māori knowledge and practices some people may not feel they have access to the richness of heritage that Indigenous peoples have. Our encouragement is for all researchers to reclaim sacred kinship with Earth, and a sense of immanence, and turn to the bedrock of wisdom that is within their cultural edifice. To access this bedrock may require the patient determination of an archaeologist picking through the sediments of time to piece together one’s own ancient knowledge code such as can be found in proverbs, poetry, chants, and artefacts.
Our methodology may be argued as a limitation by those who subscribe to an objective science and its qualitative proxies. Our approach of worldview-methodology-method-data-analysis as one movement, and collapsing of time and space, may be unsettling to some. They may wonder where is the science in that, the objectivity, the discipline? How can this be generalizable? A paradox of generalizability lies in our work: the bedrock of wisdom on how to live well in this world is probably more inherently general to humanity than a large-scale quant study. Relations of respect and reciprocity have been the enduring travel companions of humans to guide how we interact with each other and nature. Organizations too are a constellation of such relationships, a microcosm, and cannot be quarantined off as if they do not belong to the world. Yet, as ‘methodological experts’ many researchers are wedded to their technique. Driscoll and Wiebe (2007: 334), drawing upon Jacques Ellul, argue technique creates ‘a closed fraternity of its practitioners’, who ‘typically have their own discourse and are obsessed with facts and results’. When technique becomes hegemonic, we can get trapped in narrow corridors of rationality, wherein human relations too can get straight-jacketed into technique and ultimately be dehumanizing.
For future research we believe there is a need to dig deeper into the shadowy forces that impinge upon collective leadership. Tāne Mahuta, the great kauri of New Zealand, is under threat of kauri dieback disease. A pathogen discovered in 2009 senses a kauri tree’s roots, killing most of the kauri it infects. Research that studies the forces that attack the roots of the collective, the knowledge code, would be a worthy area of study. For example, pushing a particular, self-interested agenda is a common, albeit unhealthy, ‘shadow’ form of collective leadership that warrants further examination. Perhaps much that purports to be collective leadership is actually leadership by a CEO who decides to adopt collective styles in particular ways for a particular agenda, which, guised as collective, is actually hierarchical and CEO-centric. We believe our theoretical and methodological contributions open up new vistas of holistic research in leadership and organizations. Future research could also explore the perceived sanctity of the sovereign individual apropos leadership. Even the idea of the sovereign individual may be illusory: ‘the sovereign individual is the modern individual who only stands apart from the herd insofar as the herd instinct has been perfectly internalized’ (Rukgaber, 2012: 213). To truly claim ‘collective leadership’ as a living reality requires an understanding that humans are forged in relationship, wherein each person participates in, and contributes to, a higher calling to create multi-dimensional wellbeing.
We finish with a proverb from the region of one our researchers: ‘Te Wairoa hōpūpū, hōnengenenge, matangirau’ explained by Ngāti Kahungunu tribal leader Ngahiwi Tomoana (2015: paras 2–4):
This is a classic Kahungunu statement referring to the Wairoa River and the lands which are full of whirlpools, snags and boggy holes. But as the waters come closer to the sea they become calm and flow in a gentle direction to the ocean. This is a metaphor for the nature of the people of Te Wairoa. They are robust and interrogate every issue till the cows come home. They contest every matter with much debate but they normally agree on important matters, hence the term ‘Tātau’, ‘We are one.’
Footnotes
Appendix
Glossary of Māori terms.
| Kupu (Māori word) | Phonetics | English translation |
|---|---|---|
| Aroha | Ah-raw-haa | affection, sympathy, charity, compassion, love, empathy |
| Hau | Ho | vital essence, vitality—of a person, place or object |
| Hui | Hoo-ee | gathering, meeting, assembly, seminar, conference |
| Io-Matua-Kore | ee-oo-Maa-tu-ahh-Koo-reh | supreme being; personification of light and the world of the living. Io as the point of origin is the coalescence of connectedness that recognizes the ontological and epistemological unification with the natural world |
| Iwi | Ee-wee | literally bone, extended kinship group, tribe, nation, people, nationality, race—often refers to a large group of people descended from a common ancestor and associated with a distinct territory |
| Kaitiaki | Kai-tee-ah-key | agentic stewardship, caretaker, guardian, keeper, protector |
| Karakia | Ka-ra-key-ah | ritual incantation, to recite chant, chant prayer |
| Kaumātua | Co-mah-two-ah | wise elder male |
| Kaupapa Māori | Co-papa Maow-ree | Māori approach centered within Māori-centric philosophy, Māori ideology, a philosophical doctrine incorporating knowledge, skills, attitudes, and values of Māori society |
| Kuia | Koo-ee-aa | wise elder female |
| Mana | Muh-nah | prestige, authority, control, power, influence, status, spiritual power, charisma—mana is a supernatural force in a person, place or object |
| Māori (NZ) | Maow-ree | Indigenous peoples of New Zealand |
| Marae | Mah-rye | courtyard—the open area in front of the wharenui, where formal greetings and discussions take place. Often also used to include the complex of buildings around the marae |
| Mātauranga Māori | Maa-tow-rung-ah Maow-ree | Māori knowledge, body of Māori knowledge, Māori world view, Māori creativity and cultural practices |
| Mauri | Mow-ree | life principle, life force, vital essence, special nature, a material symbol of a life principle, source of emotions—the essential quality and vitality of a being or entity. Also used for a physical object, individual, ecosystem or social group in which this essence is located |
| Ngāti | Ngah-tee | prefix for a tribal group |
| Papa-tū-ā-nuku | Papa-too-ah-nookoo | Earth Mother, Earth, and wife of Rangi-nui—all living things originate from them |
| Rangatira | Runga-tee-rah | chief, leader, of high rank, esteemed, responsible for groups of people, worker with the interests of the people at heart |
| Ranginui | Rung-ee-noo-ee | Sky Father, god of the sky, and husband of Papa-tū-ū-nuku, from which union originate all living things |
| Rongo | Ror-ngor | god of peace, god of the kumara (sweet potato) and cultivated food and one of the offspring of Rangi-nui and Papa-tū-ā-nuku |
| Rūnanga | Roo-nung-ah | council, tribal council, assembly, board, boardroom, iwi authority—assemblies called to discuss issues of concern to iwi or the community |
| Tāne | Tah-neh | god of the forests and birds and one of the children of Rangi-nui and Papa-tū-ā-nuku |
| Tāne Mahuta | Tah-neh Maa-hoo-tah | god of forests, offspring of the primordial parents Ranginui and Papa-tū-ā-nuku |
| Tangaroa | Tung-a-raw-aa | god of water, waterways, oceans, lakes, and seas and everything that exists within those environments |
| Tangata whai mahara | Tung-ah-tah | one who pursues their thoughts, alert, awake, and also active in pursuing what their mind suggests to them |
| Taonga | Tow-ngah | treasure, anything prized—applied to anything considered to be of value including socially or culturally valuable objects, resources, phenomenon, ideas and techniques, property, goods, possession, effects, object |
| Tāwhirimātea | Tah-firi-mah-te-ah | god of the winds, clouds, rain, hail, snow, and storms, he was also known as Tāwhiri-rangi and Tāwhiri-mate-a-Rangi and was one of the offspring of Rangi-nui and Papa-tū-ā-nuku who did not want his parents separated |
| Te Ao Mārama | Te Ow Mah-ra-mah | world of light (where humans dwell) |
| Tikanga | Tee-kung-ah | correct procedure, custom, habit, lore, method, manner, rule, way, code, meaning, plan, practice, convention, protocol—the customary system of values and practices that have developed over time and are deeply embedded in the social context |
| Tohu | Tor-hoo | sign, mark, symbol, emblem, token, qualification, cue, symptom, proof, directions, company, landmark, distinguishing feature, signature |
| Tohunga | Tor-hoo-nga | expert, proficient, adept, of higher learning, skilled, chosen for knowledge and judgment |
| Tūmatauenga | Two-mah-tow-enga | god of war, hostilities, anger and also god of humans–also known as Tūkūriri and other names, he was one of the offspring of Ranginui and Papa-tū-ā-nuku who wanted to separate his parents for not letting the sun shine on their children. Sometimes hyphenated, i.e. Tū-mata-uenga. In this article we draw upon Temuera Hall’s description that humans must do battle with themselves, to face themselves and conquer their own demons to find a state of peace and balance |
| Uepoto | Uuu-ee-por-tor | offspring of Ranginui, Sky Father and Papa-tū-ā-nuku, Earth Mother |
| Wai | Why | water |
| Waiata | Why-utta | song, chant |
| Wairua | Why-roo-ah | spirituality, derived from the term ngā wai e rua—the two waters referring to the material and spiritual worlds |
| Wānanga | Wah-nah-nga | to meet and discuss, deliberate, consider |
| Whakapapa | Far-ka-papa | literally meaning to place in layers, genealogy, genealogical table, lineage, descent, the layering and ordering of relationships and events across time and space, articulates relationships of self with others, including ancestors, mountains, rivers and sacred guardians, connections and interconnectedness, relationships |
Acknowledgements
We express our gratitude to all of our participants, our editor, Professor Erica Foldy, and the other editors of this special issue, along with the anonymous reviewers for their meticulous dedication to strengthening this work. This article is part of a Māori economies research group nested within the Centre for Māori Research Excellence, Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga. Our research examines effective Māori leadership and integrated decision making, and how these processes deliver pluralistic outcomes that advance transformative and prosperous Māori economies of wellbeing. The authors are all investigators. We thank the team leaders, Dr Shaun Awatere and Associate Professor Mānuka Hēnare, for their leadership. Finally, we acknowledge Mrs Ngāroimata Reid for her contributions as a member of this research team and our lead research assistant.
Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga Centre for Māori Research Excellence. NPM ref: 16RF07 Host: 3713332
