Academic literature on the topic 'Massey University. School of Māori Studies'

Then. The way I see it, Māori Performance Research as it is coming to be practiced now started in the late 1990s at the University of Canterbury. Te Rita Papesch and I had been thrown together there as its only two female heads of school – she in Māori Studies, I in Theatre and Film Studies. Bonded by gendered necessity in a male-dominated academic environment, our chat ran along the lines of ‘You show me your research, and I’ll show you mine’. She started talking about Kapa Haka, I started talking about Performance Studies, and twenty years on (although we’ve moved on from Canterbury), we’re still talking. After all, not only is the personal political, it is also simultaneously academic and performative. This then is a personal account, my own version of the story of how we have come to be here now in this room discussing a field of study that I will, today, call Māori Performance Research: research focused on Māori performance, performance research from a Māori perspective, performance research by and for Māori academics and artists. These are not the same thing, but an evolving mix of old and new ways both of knowing about performance and of performing that knowledge.

Cade Massey of University of Pennsylvania reviews, “Schelling's Game Theory: How to Make Decisions” by Robert V. Dodge. The EconLit abstract of this book begins: “Explores Thomas Schelling's contributions to the field of rational strategic analysis and game theory, focusing on content from his Harvard University course on rational choice, bargaining, and strategy. Focuses on the Schelling approach to strategic thinking and decision making; strategies and tactics; models as metaphors for what decisions do; the prisoner's dilemma, competition, and cooperation; individual decisions and group agreement; decisions that mix and sort populations and decisions based on randomization; and a case study of the Cuban Missile crisis. Dodge is retired from teaching social studies at the Singapore American School. Index.”

06–475Al-Ali, Mohammed N. (Jordan U of Science and Technology, Irbid, Jordan), Genre-pragmatic strategies in English letter-of-application writing of Jordanian Arabic–English bilinguals. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism (Multilingual Matters) 9.1 (2006), 119–139.06–476Anderson, Bill (Massey U College of Education, New Zealand; w.g.anderson@massey.ac.nz), Writing power into online discussion. Computers and Composition (Elsevier) 23.1 (2006), 108–124.06–477Blaır, Kristine & Cheryl Hoy (Bowling Green State U, USA; kblair@bgnet.bgsu.edu), Paying attention to adult learners online: The pedagogy and politics of community. Computers and Composition (Elsevier) 23.1 (2006), 32–48.06–478Blakelock, Jane & Tracy E. Smith (Wright State U, USA; jane.blakelock@wright.edu) Distance learning: From multiple snapshots, a composite portrait. 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Journal of Research in Reading (Blackwell) 29.2 (2006), 194–212.06–507Richter, Tobias (U Cologne, Germany), What is wrong with ANOVA and Multiple Regression? Analyzing sentence reading times with hierarchical linear models. Discourse Processes (Erlbaum) 41.3 (2006), 221–250.06–508Roca De Larios, Julio (U of Murcia, Spain; jrl@um.es), Rosa M. Manchón & Liz Murphy, Generating text in native and foreign language writing: a temporal analysis of problem-solving formulation processes. The Modern Language Journal (Blackwell) 90.1 (2006), 100–114.06–509Spencer, Ken (U Hull, UK; k.a.spencer@hull.ac.uk), Phonics self-teaching materials for foundation literacy. Literacy (Blackwell) 40.1 (2006), 42–50.06–510Spooner, Alice L. R. (U Central Lancashire, UK; aspooner@uclan.ac.uk), Susan E. Gathercole & Alan D. Baddeley, Does weak reading comprehension reflect an integration deficit?Journal of Research in Reading (Blackwell) 29.2 (2006), 173–193.06–511Swarts, Jason (North Carolina State U, USA), Coherent fragments: The problem of mobility and genred information. Written Communication (Sage) 23.2 (2006), 173–201.06–512Walsh, Maureen, The ‘textual shift’: examining the reading process with print, visual and multimodal texts. Australian Journal of Language and Literacy (Australian Literacy Educators' Association) 29.1 (2006), 24–37.06–513Wilson, Andrew (Lancaster U, UK; eiaaw@exchange.lancs.ac.uk), Development and application of a content analysis dictionary for body boundary research. Literary and Linguistic Computing (Oxford University Press) 21.1 (2006), 105–110.06–514Yusun Kang, Jennifer (Harvard U Graduate School of Education, USA; jennifer_kang@post.harvard.edu), Written narratives as an index of L2 competence in Korean EFL learners. 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IntroductionContemporary societies are increasingly becoming sites in which it is more difficult for people to respectfully negotiate disagreements about human diversity. This is exemplified by people who must oppose oppressive social conventions that marginalise them because they identify as belonging to one or more minority groups. One of the key factors in this dynamic is how people’s being in particular sites impacts their being as a person. The “fate of the stranger” is shaped by the spaces they inhabit and people are labelled as “insiders or outsiders” (Amin Land 2); for many people this means our societies are sites of dissatisfaction. For example, in some sites asylum seekers and refugees are referred to as “co-habitant and potential citizen,” while in other sites they are referred to as “impure and threats” (Amin Land 2). This process of defining a person’s being is also experienced by people who are “multi-abled, multi-sexed, multi-sexual, or multi-faith” (Garbutt 275). This article provides a reading of the Human Library in relation to contemporary understandings of space from human geographers such as Ash Amin, as a way of rethinking our everyday spaces as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. It primarily draws on my researching and organising Human Libraries across Australia.Protest can employ both instrumental and expressive forms of activism. Instrumental activism aims to change law or policy, gain improvements in living conditions, and win important human services. Expressive activism is often understood as a continuum of political acts extending from lawful demonstrations through to violent activities. Recent studies demonstrate that protest has developed beyond such conventional forms (Dalton, Van Sickle, and Weldon). Contemporary protest includes such things as: acts of spontaneity (Snow and Moss); advocating rights via cultural rather than political protest (Bruce); and activating spatial politics by engaging in urban public spaces to highlight long-standing socio-spatial inequalities (Marom).These examples demonstrate the tension that exists within contemporary protest. While some people accuse expressive activism of being “a thing-for-itself that is not aimed at producing results”, others recognise that “both expressive and instrumental activism are necessary and important” (Maddison and Scalmer 69-71). Far from being self-interested, protest that adopts expressive activism offers its practitioners an important tool:Expressive activism is oriented towards the construction, reconstruction and/or transformation of norms, values, identities and ways of living and being. It is not just about ‘who we are’ […] but also about ‘how we are’ in the world, consequently requiring evaluation of ‘what we do’ and ‘how we do it’. (Stammers 164-165)This understanding of expressive activism provides a useful lens for reading the Human Library as a means of rethinking everyday spaces as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. This is particularly so because the Human Library, as an activist organisation dedicated to increasing respect for difference, is situated within the contemporary anti-prejudice movement (Stammers; Chesters and Welsh; Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'").Introducing the Human LibraryHuman Libraries transform the spaces provided by traditional libraries into spaces that challenge contemporary socio-spatial dynamics. Human Libraries provide people (Readers) with a safe space in which they can choose another person (a volunteer known as a Human Book) and engage in a conversation or ‘reading’ about the way that people perceive and experience difference. Readers choose their Human Books from a catalogue of titles and descriptions which are developed by each Human Book.and express something about how they identify. For example, titles include such things as belonging to sexual minority groups, living with physical or mental impairment, or belonging to different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. Each ‘reading’ is defined by three rules: 1) you may raise any topic or ask any question; 2) a ‘reading’ is a dialogue so Human Books ask their Readers questions too; and 3) each person may decline to answer any question and to end the reading at any time. Using this method, Human Libraries protest the way in which socio-spatial norms marginalise people who are different. They enact a form of expressive activism that reconstructs the way that norms are used in local sites to marginalise different ways of living and being. This reconstruction of the relationship between norms and sites enables people to be “who we are” and “how we are” without having to be inauthentic about “what we do” and “how we do it” (Stammers 164-165).The first Human Library took place at the Roskilde Festival (Denmark) in the summer of 2000 and as an international activist organisation within the anti-prejudice movement, has since become active in over 80 countries and used in a variety of local community sites thus demonstrating its ability to “transcend borders and be adapted to different situations” (Abergel et al. 13). It now operates in such diverse settings as local libraries, universities, schools, music and cultural festivals and workplaces. Participants’ (Organisers, Readers and Human Books) reflections on their experiences of engaging in Human Libraries helps to illustrate how they perceive Human Libraries as sites that challenge socio-spatial norms.Human Libraries enable people to create sites that reverse our usual social interactions. The following phrases, used by participants to describe their contact with the Human Library, illustrate this. An Organiser, whose local government job requires her to develop projects that encourage interactions between in-groups and out-groups, explains that Human Libraries bring people who usually live “on the margins […] into the centre of the page” and that “the powerful people […] who are usually in the centre” are required to listen to different experiences. Likewise, Human Books describe themselves as being “totally open” in order to encourage their Readers to ask about topics that society labels as “taboo”. Readers illustrate how they encounter Human Libraries in ways that the other spaces in their day-to-day lives function. One Reader talks about “stumbling upon” a Human Library within a community event and describes this as “a kind of a stroke of brilliance to catch people at a place like that rather than in a more conventional library setting”. Other Readers emphasise the significance of this type of encounter when they explain that they “probably wouldn’t just go and bother someone in the street” and that participating in a Human Library has provided a type of conversation “that doesn’t happen in any other way”. The outcome of this is highlighted by a Reader who explains that she pushed herself “to go beyond […] just a polite social conversation” because the Human Library “lays it all out there and says, we’re here to talk” (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'" 124-132). These descriptions of people’s experiences of Human Libraries demonstrate how they perceive Human Libraries as spaces that enable them to have conversations with people they would not normally speak to about topics they would usually feel unable to speak about. Their examples are better appreciated when considered along with the scholarship on the interconnectedness of space and intergroup relations.The Interconnectedness of Space and Intergroup RelationsA multiplicity of spaces shape people’s everyday lives. The everyday refers to the “flow of routine” often defined by such mundane habitual practices as going to work, crossing streets and shopping (Dirksmeier and Helbrecht 495). Who a person is, where a person lives, the spaces a person can enter and move about, and how a person is treated in those spaces are intertwined. Belonging is not an abstract concept; as people move in and out of different spaces they demonstrate how belonging is “experienced differentially, and the pleasures and powers it confers are not distributed evenly but [are] linked to relations of inequality and practices of social exclusion” (Noble and Poynting 490). This warns us against romanticizing the urban space of the city and regarding it over-simplistically as neutral and accessible to all, as a space of open flow and untroubled human interaction and as a natural catalyst for proximate reflexivity (Noble and Poynting; Amin and Thrift; Amin Land; Priest et al.).Acknowledging the negative impacts inherent in the interconnectedness of the city and intergroup relations, some scholars have moved their attention from examining integration at the macrospatial level of society to studying the microecology of segregation (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon, Tredoux and Clack; Alexander and Tredoux; Priest et al.; Thomas; Dandy and Pe-Pua; Dixon and Durrheim; Durrheim et al.). This shifts the focus from a primary interest in the city and the neighbourhood to a closer examination of people’s everyday life spaces. This focus examines how members of different groups “share proximity and co-presence” (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux 2) and engage in informal practices that uphold barriers (Alexander and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim). For example, people were observed as they shared spaces such as beaches, school cafeterias and university class rooms and were found to use these spaces in ways that enacted segregation along lines of race, ethnicity, age, and gender. In examples such as these, everyday life spaces are seen to function in ways that (re)instate borders around difference through everyday spatial practices and they act as sites in which “informal segregation practices can be enacted and reproduced” (Priest et al. 32). The shift in scholarly interest to the microecology of segregation serves my interest in how we might use everyday spaces as sites to contest segregation. The following discusses three everyday spaces that serve this interest.The Space of the Everyday UrbanThe macrospatial terrain of the world’s cities and towns is increasingly defined by difference and their public spaces are often spaces of “visibility and encounter between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967). Negotiating difference is a natural part of living in these large urban spaces and it is an increasingly more common experience in, what was previously, the typically homogenous setting of rural communities. This process of negotiation occurs most noticeably within the microecology of the “everyday urban,” a context defined by the interconnection of everyday spaces and intergroup relations (Alexander and Tredoux; Durrheim et al.; Dixon and Durrheim). It is here that we find “the micropolitics of everyday social contact and encounter” (Amin "Ethnicity" 959). These everyday spaces include our streets, parks, malls, and cafes, and they are often described as shared spaces of freedom, mingling, and serendipitous encounters. However, while spaces such as these can place people from diverse backgrounds and groups in close proximity, it is important not to overstate their effectiveness in helping people negotiate difference (Wise; Noble "Cosmopolitan Habits"; Priest et al.; Valentine "Living"). This is the case because urban public spaces can carry a reverse side to the provision of proximity. They are often “spaces of transit with very little contact between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967). As such, urban public spaces do not naturally serve our need to negotiate our everyday encounters with others (Amin and Thrift; Amin, Massey, and Thrift; Rosaldo; Amin "Ethnicity").This illuminates the need to rethink our everyday public spaces and start to unsettle and shift how some spaces act to perpetuate negative and habitual socio-spatial norms which encourage avoidance rather than provide spaces to contest inequality and inequity (Alexander and Tredoux; Durrheim et al.; Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim; Wise). Participants at Human Libraries demonstrate that they recognise this when they explain that they do not feel able to approach and speak with people who are different in everyday spaces such as the street, public transport and shops. They point out that they feel that socio-spatial norms dictate that it is rude, impolite or intrusive to approach strangers and people who are different in public spaces and to begin a conversation, especially about difference (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"). Examples such as this signal how everyday urban spaces embody socio-spatial norms and practices that impede people’s capacity to engage in everyday acts that protest the marginalisation of difference. This clarifies why “even in the most carefully designed and inclusive spaces, the marginalised and the prejudiced stay away” (Amin "Ethnicity" 968). This alerts us to the need to better appreciate what occurs in other everyday spaces in which people associate even more closely.Spaces and the MicropublicOther everyday spaces in which people spend a significant amount of time are spaces of association, referred to as micropublics (Amin "Ethnicity"; Noble "Cosmopolitan Habits"). They include those places in which we work, study, play sports, and recreate. Micropublics function as spaces of habitual engagement, interdependence and “prosaic negotiations” (Amin "Ethnicity" 969). For example, we attend our place of work on a daily basis which requires us to communicate and interact with our colleagues as well as navigate other forms of elementary social etiquette. In this way, micropublics often bring people from diverse backgrounds and identity groups together in spaces that require them to interact with people who are different to themselves. In practice, however, the contact people undertake in their micropublics tends to be illusory and includes practices of informal segregation (Dixon and Durrheim; Alexander and Tredoux; Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux). This highlights that “co-presence and collaboration are two very different things” and that micropublics do not immediately serve as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference (Amin Land 59).Participants at Human Libraries share experiences taken from their own work places and schools and suggest that the codes of civility that are enforced within these micropublics make it difficult, if not impossible, to engage in certain conversations. For example, Readers at Human Libraries disclose that they do not feel comfortable discussing issues of physical impairment or mental illness with colleagues who live with disability and mental illness. Similarly, high school students explain that they feel unable to discuss what it means to be gay, lesbian or bisexual with their fellow-students who identity as LGBTQI (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"). Examples such as these demonstrate how micropublics embody “degrees and modalities of familiarity and strangeness” (Noble "Strange Familiarities" 33) and that even though they may embody degrees of collaboration and contribute to a shift in the way people develop various forms of familiarity, they do not naturally lend themselves to protesting the way in which codes of civility camouflage disrespect for difference. These experiences alert us to the way that our everyday spaces and the norms attached to them contribute to defining what it means to be and to belong.Spaces and BeingPeople’s experiences of marginalisation in public spaces illuminates how people’s freedom to be in particular spaces and their being – their humanity – are intimately connected. This happens as people who are made to feel that they should not be in a space are sent the message that they do not have the right to be at all (Noble and Poynting). Valentine ("Prejudice" 531) explains how this is demonstrated by the way some people speak about other people who are different in relation to public and private spaces:Individuals stated that they believed in individual freedom and were not prejudiced against minority groups and yet saw no contradiction in then expressing hostility towards seeing lesbians and gay men kissing on the street, or women wearing the hijab in their neighbourhood or feeling uncomfortable at the sight of a disabled person in public or being inconvenienced by disabled access provisions.This response reveals how some people frame acceptance of minority groups using the criteria of invisibility and how spatial norms define “appropriate embodied ways of being in public space” (Valentine "Prejudice" 532). This exemplifies how some people regard it as tolerable for minority groups to express their difference at home but not in public because this would be considered as imposing “their way of life” upon majority people, thus transgressing spatial norms about appropriate embodied ways of being in public spaces.People who participate at Human Libraries as Readers illustrate this dynamic when they share how, during the course of their everyday lives, they have come in contact with people with disabilities or met people who identify as gay, lesbian or transgender and have recognised negative feelings within themselves such as discomfort, embarrassment, or have refused to recognise a person’s authentic identity. They also admit to hiding these feelings in public but expressing them once they return home (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Kudo et al.). Similarly, people who volunteer as Human Books speak about their experiences of being in public spaces and feeling unsafe or the target of negative treatment. For example, Human Books who identify as gay comment that they need to do a “safety check” before showing signs of physical affection in public; Human Books whose physical appearance does not align with social constructs of gender relate that they have been banned from using public toilets; and Human Books with eating disorders speak about being labelled as “crazy” (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Watson "Being a Human Book"). Behaviours such as these demonstrate how people who are different are defined and treated as lesser beings in public spaces and are relegated to segregated micropublics such as their homes as well as groups and clubs dedicated to particular minorities.Conclusion: Rethinking Our SpacesThe above discussion includes a number of findings that are informative when thinking about how our everyday spaces might act as sites for protesting the marginalisation of difference. The following offers a concluding discussion about how we might approach such a project, paying particular attention to what we can learn from the Human Library.Firstly, Human Libraries exemplify the need to develop sites that protest the way in which our everyday public spaces do not naturally serve our need to negotiate our everyday encounter with difference (Noble and Poynting; Amin and Thrift; Amin Strangers; Priest et al.). Readers indicate that Human Libraries are spaces that make it possible for them to meet people they don’t feel able to approach in other everyday public spaces. As such, Human Libraries illuminate the importance of developing sites that protest social and spatial norms by enabling “encounter between strangers” (Amin "Ethnicity" 967).Secondly, Human Libraries protest the space of the micropublic as sites that are illusory, superficial, and bearers of informal segregation (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon, Tredoux and Clack; Alexander and Tredoux; Priest et al.; Thomas; Dandy and Pe-Pua; Dixon and Durrheim; Durrheim et al.). They achieve this by being sites in which no topic or question is taboo and that welcome and value respectful conversations about difference. Readers are able to speak to Human Books about differences such as what it is like to live with physical impairment, to be lesbian and/or to be an immigrant or a refugee. Their conversations are much deeper than the superficial conversations they feel restricted to within the confines of their everyday micropublics which enables them to protest codes of civility that render conversations about the marginalisation of difference as unacceptable (Watson "'You Shouldn't Have to Suffer'"; Watson "Being a Human Book").Thirdly, Human Libraries provide sites that protest the way in which other spaces define people who are different as lesser beings because Human Libraries are spaces in which every person has the right to be their authentic self. They are spaces that make it possible for people to be 'who we are’ by authentically being ‘how we are’ (Stammers 164-165). They shed a light on the way that a person’s being is sometimes distorted by how they experience being in a particular space and in doing so protest spatial norms that divide, marginalise and diminish people by marginalising them via the criteria of invisibility (Clack, Dixon, and Tredoux; Dixon and Durrheim; Thomas). For this reason, Human Libraries can be regarded as safe spaces to meet people who are different and bring people from the margins of society to its centre as sites that protest the marginalisation of difference.ReferencesAbergel, Ronni, et al. Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover? The Living Library Organiser's Guide. Budapest: Council of Europe 2005.Alexander, Lameez, and Colin Tredoux. "The Spaces between Us: A Spatial Analysis of Informal Segregation at a South African University." Journal of Social Issues 66.2 (2010): 367-86.Amin, Ash. "Ethnicity and the Multicultural City: Living with Diversity." Environment and Planning A 34.6 (2002): 959-80.———. Land of Strangers. 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“There is nothing more public than privacy.” (Berlant and Warner, Sex) How did it come to this? How did it happen that a one-off, two-hour event at a public swimming pool in a suburb of outer Melbourne ignited international hate mail and generated media-fanned political anguish and debate about the proper use of public spaces? In 2010, women who attend a women’s only swim session on Sunday evenings at the Dandenong Oasis public swimming pool asked the pool management and the local council for permission to celebrate the end of Ramadan at the pool during the time of their regular swim session. The request was supported by the pool managers and the council and promoted by both as an opportunity for family and friends to get together in a spirit of multicultural learning and understanding. Responding to criticisms of the event as an unreasonable claim on public facilities by one group, the Mayor of the City of Greater Dandenong, Jim Memeti, rejected claims that this event discriminates against non-Muslim residents of the suburb. But here’s the rub. The event, to be held after hours at the pool, requires all participants older than ten years of age to follow a dress code of knee-length shorts and T-shirts. This is a suburban moment that is borne of but exceeds the local. It reflects and responds to a contemporary global conundrum of great political and theoretical significance—how to negotiate and govern the relations between multiculturalism, religion, gender, sexual freedom, and democracy. Specifically this event speaks to how multicultural democracy in the public sphere negotiates the public presence and expression of different cultural and religious frameworks related to gender and sexuality. This is demanding political stuff. Situated in the messy political and theoretical terrains of the relation between public space and the public sphere, this local moment called for political judgement about how cultural differences should be allowed to manifest in and through public space, giving consideration to the potential effects of these decisions on an inclusive multicultural democracy. The local authorities in Dandenong engaged in an admirable process of democratic labour as they puzzled over how to make decisions that were responsible and equitable, in the absence of a rulebook or precedents for success. Ultimately however this mode of experimental decision-making, which will become increasingly necessary to manage such predicaments in the future, was foreclosed by unwarranted and unhelpful media outrage. "Foreclosed" here stresses the preemptive nature of the loss; a lost opportunity for trialing approaches to governing cultural diversity that may fail, but might then be modified. It was condemned in advance of either success or failure. The role of the media rather than the discomfort of the local publics has been decisive in this event.This Multicultural SuburbDandenong is approximately 30 kilometres southeast of central Melbourne. Originally home to the Bunorong People of the Kulin nation, it was settled by pastoralists by the 1800s, heavily industrialised during the twentieth century, and now combines cultural diversity with significant social disadvantage. The City of Greater Dandenong is proud of its reputation as the most culturally and linguistically diverse municipality in Australia. Its population of approximately 138,000 comprises residents from 156 different language groups. More than half (56%) of its population was born overseas, with 51% from nations where English is not the main spoken language. These include Vietnam, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, India, China, Italy, Greece, Bosnia and Afghanistan. It is also a place of significant religious diversity with residents identifying as Buddhist (15 per cent) Muslim (8 per cent), Hindu (2 per cent) and Christian (52 per cent) [CGD]. Its city logo, “Great Place, Great People” evokes its twin pride in the placemaking power of its diverse population. It is also a brazen act of civic branding to counter its reputation as a derelict and dangerous suburb. In his recent book The Bogan Delusion, David Nichols cites a "bogan" website that names Dandenong as one of Victoria’s two most bogan areas. The other was Moe. (p72). The Sunday Age newspaper had already depicted Dandenong as one of two excessively dangerous suburbs “where locals fear to tread” (Elder and Pierik). The other suburb of peril was identified as Footscray.Central Dandenong is currently the site of Australia’s largest ever state sponsored Urban Revitalisation program with a budget of more than $290 million to upgrade infrastructure, that aims to attract $1billion in private investment to provide housing and future employment.The Cover UpIn September 2010, the Victorian and Civil and Administrative Appeals Tribunal (VCAT) granted the YMCA an exemption from the Equal Opportunity Act to allow a dress code for the Ramadan event at the Oasis swimming pool that it manages. The "Y" sees the event as “an opportunity for the broader community to learn more about Ramadan and the Muslim faith, and encourages all members of Dandenong’s diverse community to participate” (YMCA Ramadan). While pool management and the municipal council refer to the event as an "opening up" of the closed swimming session, the media offer a different reading of the VCAT decision. The trope of the "the cover up" has framed most reports and commentaries (Murphy; Szego). The major focus of the commentaries has not been the event per se, but the call to dress "appropriately." Dress codes however are a cultural familiar. They exist for workplaces, schools, nightclubs, weddings, racing and sporting clubs and restaurants, to name but a few. While some of these codes or restrictions are normatively imposed rather than legally required, they are not alien to cultural life in Australia. Moreover, there are laws that prohibit people from being meagerly dressed or naked in public, including at beaches, swimming pools and so on. The dress code for this particular swimming pool event was, however, perceived to be unusual and, in a short space of time, "unusual" converted to "social threat."Responses to media polls about the dress code reveal concerns related to the symbolic dimensions of the code. The vast majority of those who opposed the Equal Opportunity exemption saw it as the thin edge of the multicultural wedge, a privatisation of public facilities, or a denial of the public’s right to choose how to dress. Tabloid newspapers reported on growing fears of Islamisation, while the more temperate opposition situated the decision as a crisis of human rights associated with tolerating illiberal cultural practices. Julie Szego reflects this view in an opinion piece in The Age newspaper:the Dandenong pool episode is neither trivial nor insignificant. It is but one example of human rights laws producing outcomes that restrict rights. It raises tough questions about how far public authorities ought to go in accommodating cultural practices that sit uneasily with mainstream Western values. (Szego)Without enquiring into the women’s request and in the absence of the women’s views about what meaning the event held for them, most media commentators and their electronically wired audiences treated the announcement as yet another alarming piece of evidence of multicultural failure and the potential Islamisation of Australia. The event raised specific concerns about the double intrusion of cultural difference and religion. While the Murdoch tabloid Herald Sun focused on the event as “a plan to force families to cover up to avoid offending Muslims at a public event” (Murphy) the liberal Age newspaper took a more circumspect approach, reporting on its small vox pop at the Dandenong pool. Some people here referred to the need to respect religions and seemed unfazed by the exemption and the event. Those who disagreed thought it was important not to enforce these (dress) practices on other people (Carey).It is, I believe, significant that several employees of the local council informed me that most of the opposition has come from the media, people outside of Dandenong and international groups who oppose the incursion of Islam into non-Islamic settings. Opposition to the event did not appear to derive from local concern or opposition.The overwhelming majority of Herald Sun comments expressed emphatic opposition to the dress code, citing it variously as unAustralian, segregationist, arrogant, intolerant and sexist. The Herald Sun polled readers (in a self-selecting and of course highly unrepresentative on-line poll) asking them to vote on whether or not they agreed with the VCAT exemption. While 5.52 per cent (512 voters) agreed with the ruling, 94.48 per cent (8,760) recorded disagreement. In addition, the local council has, for the first time in memory, received a stream of hate-mail from international anti-Islam groups. Muslim women’s groups, feminists, the Equal Opportunity Commissioner and academics have also weighed in. According to local reports, Professor of Islamic Studies at the University of Melbourne, Shahram Akbarzadeh, considered the exemption was “nonsense” and would “backfire and the people who will pay for it will be the Muslim community themselves” (Haberfield). He repudiated it as an example of inclusion and tolerance, labeling it “an effort of imposing a value system (sic)” (Haberfield). He went so far as to suggest that, “If Tony Abbott wanted to participate in his swimwear he wouldn’t be allowed in. That’s wrong.” Tasneem Chopra, chairwoman of the Islamic Women’s Welfare Council and Sherene Hassan from the Islamic Council of Victoria, both expressed sensitivity to the group’s attempt to establish an inclusive event but would have preferred the dress code to be a matter of choice rather coercion (Haberfield, "Mayor Defends Dandenong Pool Cover Up Order"). Helen Szoke, the Commissioner of the Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission, defended the pool’s exemption from the Law that she oversees. “Matters such as this are not easy to resolve and require a balance to be achieved between competing rights and obligations. Dress codes are not uncommon: e.g., singlets, jeans, thongs etc in pubs/hotels” (in Murphy). The civil liberties organisation, Liberty Victoria, supported the ban because the event was to be held after hours (Murphy). With astonishing speed this single event not only transformed the suburban swimming pool to a theatre of extra-local disputes about who and what is entitled to make claims on public space and publically funded facilities, but also fed into charged debates about the future of multiculturalism and the vulnerability of the nation to the corrosive effects of cultural and religious difference. In this sense suburbs like Dandenong are presented as sites that not only generate fear about physical safety but whose suburban sensitivities to its culturally diverse population represent a threat to the safety of the nation. Thus the event both reflects and produces an antipathy to cultural difference and to the place where difference resides. This aversion is triggered by and mediated in this case through the figure, rather than the (corpo)reality, of the Muslim woman. In this imagining, the figure of the Muslim woman is assigned the curious symbolic role of "cultural creep." The debates around the pool event is not about the wellbeing or interests of the Muslim women themselves, nor are broader debates about the perceived, culturally-derived restrictions imposed on Muslim women living in Australia or other western countries. The figure of the Muslim woman is, I would argue, simply the ground on which the debates are held. The first debate relates to social and public space, access to which is considered fundamental to freedom and participatory democracy, and in current times is addressed in terms of promoting inclusion, preventing exclusion and finding opportunities for cross cultural encounters. The second relates not to public space per se, but to the public sphere or the “sphere of private people coming together as a public” for political deliberation (Habermas 21). The literature and discussions dealing with these two terrains have remained relatively disconnected (Low and Smith) with public space referring largely to activities and opportunities in the socio-cultural domain and the public sphere addressing issues of politics, rights and democracy. This moment in Dandenong offers some modest leeway for situating "the suburb" as an ideal site for coalescing these disparate discussions. In this regard I consider Iveson’s provocative and productive question about whether some forms of exclusions from suburban public space may actually deepen the democratic ideals of the public sphere. Exclusions may in such cases be “consistent with visions of a democratically inclusive city” (216). He makes his case in relation to a dispute about the exclusion of men exclusion from a women’s only swimming pool in the Sydney suburb of Coogee. The Dandenong case is similarly exclusive with an added sense of exclusion generated by an "inclusion with restrictions."Diversity, Difference, Public Space and the Public SphereAs a prelude to this discussion of exclusion as democracy, I return to the question that opened this article: how did it come to this? How is it that Australia has moved from its renowned celebration and pride in its multiculturalism so much in evidence at the suburban level through what Ghassan Hage calls an “unproblematic” multiculturalism (233) and what others have termed “everyday multiculturalism” (Wise and Velayutham). Local cosmopolitanisms are often evinced through the daily rituals of people enjoying the ethnic cuisines of their co-residents’ pasts, and via moments of intercultural encounter. People uneventfully rub up against and greet each other or engage in everyday acts of kindness that typify life in multicultural suburbs, generating "reservoirs of hope" for democratic and cosmopolitan cities (Thrift 147). In today’s suburbs, however, the “Imperilled Muslim women” who need protection from “dangerous Muslim men” (Razack 129) have a higher discursive profile than ethnic cuisine as the exemplar of multiculturalism. Have we moved from pleasure to hostility or was the suburban pleasure in racial difference always about a kind of “eating the other” (bell hooks 378). That is to ask whether our capacity to experience diversity positively has been based on consumption, consuming the other for our own enrichment, whereas living with difference entails a commitment not to consumption but to democracy. This democratic multicultural commitment is a form of labour rather than pleasure, and its outcome is not enrichment but transformation (although this labour can be pleasurable and transformation might be enriching). Dandenong’s prized cultural precincts, "Little India" and the "Afghan bazaar" are showcases of food, artefacts and the diversity of the suburb. They are centres of pleasurable and exotic consumption. The pool session, however, requires one to confront difference. In simple terms we can think about ethnic food, festivals and handicrafts as cultural diversity, and the Muslim woman as cultural difference.This distinction between diversity and difference is useful for thinking through the relation between multiculturalism in public space and multicultural democracy of the public sphere. According to the anthropologist Thomas Hylland Eriksen, while a neoliberal sensibility supports cultural diversity in the public space, cultural difference is seen as a major cause of social problems associated with immigrants, and has a diminishing effect on the public sphere (14). According to Eriksen, diversity is understood as aesthetic, or politically and morally neutral expressions of culture that are enriching (Hage 118) or digestible. Difference, however, refers to morally objectionable cultural practices. In short, diversity is enriching. Difference is corrosive. Eriksen argues that differences that emerge from distinct cultural ideas and practices are deemed to create conflicts with majority cultures, weaken social solidarity and lead to unacceptable violations of human rights in minority groups. The suburban swimming pool exists here at the boundary of diversity and difference, where the "presence" of diverse bodies may enrich, but their different practices deplete and damage existing culture. The imperilled Muslim woman of the suburbs carries a heavy symbolic load. She stands for major global contests at the border of difference and diversity in three significant domains, multiculturalism, religion and feminism. These three areas are positioned simultaneously in public space and of the public sphere and she embodies a specific version of each in this suburban setting. First, there a global retreat from multiculturalism evidenced in contemporary narratives that describe multiculturalism (both as official policy and unofficial sensibility) as failed and increasingly ineffective at accommodating or otherwise dealing with religious, cultural and ethnic differences (Cantle; Goodhart; Joppke; Poynting and Mason). In the UK, Europe, the US and Australia, popular media sources and political discourses speak of "parallel lives,"immigrant enclaves, ghettoes, a lack of integration, the clash of values, and illiberal cultural practices. The covered body of the Muslim woman, and more particularly the Muslim veil, are now read as visual signs of this clash of values and of the refusal to integrate. Second, religion has re-emerged in the public domain, with religious groups and individuals making particular claims on public space both on the basis of their religious identity and in accord with secular society’s respect for religious freedom. This is most evident in controversies in France, Belgium and Netherlands associated with banning niqab in public and other religious symbols in schools, and in Australia in court. In this sense the covered Muslim woman raises concerns and indignation about the rightful place of religion in the public sphere and in social space. Third, feminism is increasingly invoked as the ground from which claims about the imperilled Muslim woman are made, particularly those about protecting women from their dangerous men. The infiltration of the Muslim presence into public space is seen as a threat to the hard won gains of women’s freedom enjoyed by the majority population. This newfound feminism of the public sphere, posited by those who might otherwise disavow feminism, requires some serious consideration. This public discourse rarely addresses the discrimination, violation and lack of freedom experienced systematically on an everyday basis by women of majority cultural backgrounds in western societies (such as Australia). However, the sexism of racially and religiously different men is readily identified and decried. This represents a significant shift to a dubious feminist register of the public sphere such that: “[w]omen of foreign origin, ...more specifically Muslim women…have replaced the traditional housewife as the symbol of female subservience” (Tissot 41–42).The three issues—multiculturalism, religion and feminism—are, in the Dandenong pool context, contests about human rights, democracy and the proper use of public space. Szego’s opinion piece sees the Dandenong pool "cover up" as an example of the conundrum of how human rights for some may curtail the human rights of others and lead us into a problematic entanglement of universal "rights," with claims of difference. In her view the combination of human rights and multiculturalism in the case of the Dandenong Pool accommodates illiberal practices that put the rights of "the general public" at risk, or as she puts it, on a “slippery slope” that results in a “watering down of our human rights.” Ideas that entail women making a claim for private time in public space are ultimately not good for "us."Such ideas run counter to the West's more than 500-year struggle for individual freedom—including both freedom of religion and freedom from religion—and for gender equality. Our public authorities ought to be pushing back hardest when these values are under threat. Yet this is precisely where they've been buckling under pressure (Szego)But a different reading of the relation between public and private space, human rights, democracy and gender freedom is readily identifiable in the Dandenong event—if one looks for it. Living with difference, I have already suggested, is a problem of democracy and the public sphere and does not so easily correspond to consuming diversity, as it demands engagement with cultural difference. In what remains, I explore how multicultural democracy in the public sphere and women’s rights in public and private realms relate, firstly, to the burgeoning promise of democracy and civility that might emerge in public space through encounter and exchange. I also point out how this moment in Dandenong might be read as a singular contribution to dealing with this global problematic of living with difference; of democracy in the public sphere. Public urban space has become a focus for speculation among geographers and sociologists in particular, about the prospects for an enhanced civic appreciation of living with difference through encountering strangers. Random and repetitious encounters with people from all cultures typify contemporary urban life. It remains an open question however as to whether these encounters open up or close down possibilities for conviviality and understanding, and whether they undo or harden peoples’ fears and prejudices. There is, however, at least in some academic and urban planning circles, some hope that the "throwntogetherness" (Massey) and the "doing" of togetherness (Laurier and Philo) found in the multicultural city may generate some lessons and opportunities for developing a civic culture and political commitment to living with difference. Alongside the optimism of those who celebrate the city, the suburb, and public spaces as forging new ways of living with difference, there are those such as Gill Valentine who wonder how this might be achieved in practice (324). Ash Amin similarly notes that city or suburban public spaces are not necessarily “the natural servants of multicultural engagement” (Ethnicity 967). Amin and Valentine point to the limited or fleeting opportunities for real engagement in these spaces. Moreover Valentine‘s research in the UK revealed that the spatial proximity found in multicultural spaces did not so much give rise to greater mutual respect and engagement, but to a frustrated “white self-segregation in the suburbs.” She suggests therefore that civility and polite exchange should not be mistaken for respect (324). Amin contends that it is the “micro-publics” of social encounters found in workplaces, schools, gardens, sports clubs [and perhaps swimming pools] rather than the fleeting encounters of the street or park, that offer better opportunities for meaningful intercultural exchange. The Ramadan celebration at the pool, with its dress code and all, might be seen more fruitfully as a purposeful event engaging a micro-public in which people are able to “break out of fixed relations and fixed notions” and “learn to become different” (Amin, Ethnicity 970) without that generating discord and resentment.Micropublics, Subaltern Publics and a Democracy of (Temporary) ExclusionsIs this as an opportunity to bring the global and local together in an experiment of forging new democratic spaces for gender, sexuality, culture and for living with difference? More provocatively, can we see exclusion and an invitation to share in this exclusion as a precursor to and measure of, actually existing democracy? Painter and Philo have argued that democratic citizenship is questionable if “people cannot be present in public spaces (streets, squares, parks, cinemas, churches, town halls) without feeling uncomfortable, victimized and basically ‘out of place’…" (Iveson 216). Feminists have long argued that distinctions between public and private space are neither straightforward nor gender neutral. For Nancy Fraser the terms are “cultural classifications and rhetorical labels” that are powerful because they are “frequently deployed to delegitimate some interests, views and topics and to valorize others” (73). In relation to women and other subordinated minorities, the "rhetoric of privacy" has been historically used to restrict the domain of legitimate public contestation. In fact the notion of what is public and particularly notions of the "public interest" and the "public good" solidify forms of subordination. Fraser suggests the concept of "subaltern counterpublics" as an alternative to notions of "the public." These are discursive spaces where groups articulate their needs, and demands are circulated formulating their own public sphere. This challenges the very meaning and foundational premises of ‘the public’ rather than simply positing strategies of inclusion or exclusion. The twinning of Amin’s notion of "micro-publics" and Fraser’s "counterpublics" is, I suggest, a fruitful approach to interpreting the Dandenong pool issue. It invites a reading of this singular suburban moment as an experiment, a trial of sorts, in newly imaginable ways of living democratically with difference. It enables us to imagine moments when a limited democratic right to exclude might create the sorts of cultural exchanges that give rise to a more authentic and workable recognition of cultural difference. I am drawn to think that this is precisely the kind of democratic experimentation that the YMCA and Dandenong Council embarked upon when they applied for the Equal Opportunity exemption. I suggest that by trialing, rather than fixing forever a "critically exclusive" access to the suburban swimming pool for two hours per year, they were in fact working on the practical problem of how to contribute in small but meaningful ways to a more profoundly free democracy and a reworked public sphere. In relation to the similar but distinct example of the McIver pool for women and children in Coogee, New South Wales, Kurt Iveson makes the point that such spaces of exclusion or withdrawal, “do not necessarily serve simply as spaces where people ‘can be themselves’, or as sites through which reified identities are recognised—in existing conditions of inequality, they can also serve as protected spaces where people can take the risk of exploring who they might become with relative safety from attack and abuse” (226). These are necessary risks to take if we are to avoid entrenching fear of difference in a world where difference is itself deeply, and permanently, entrenched.ReferencesAmin, Ash. “Ethnicity and the Multicultural City: Living with Diversity.” Environment and Planning A 34 (2002): 959–80.———. “The Good City.” Urban Studies 43 (2006): 1009–23.Berlant, Lauren, and Michael Warner. “Sex in Public.” Critical Inquiry 24 (1998): 547–66.Cantle, Ted. Community Cohesion: A Report of the Independent Review Team. London, UK Home Office, 2001.Carey, Adam. “Backing for Pool Cover Up Directive.” The Age 17 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/backing-for-pool-coverup-directive-20100916-15enz.html›.Elder, John, and Jon Pierick. “The Mean Streets: Where the Locals Fear to Tread.” The Sunday Age 10 Jan. 2010. ‹http://www.theage.com.au/national/the-mean-streets-where-the-locals-fear-to-tread-20100109-m00l.html?skin=text-only›.Eriksen, Thomas Hyland. “Diversity versus Difference: Neoliberalism in the Minority Debate." The Making and Unmaking of Difference. Ed. Richard Rottenburg, Burkhard Schnepel, and Shingo Shimada. 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Houndsmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009.YMCA. “VCAT Ruling on Swim Sessions at Dandenong Oasis to Open Up to Community During Ramadan Next Year.” 16 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.victoria.ymca.org.au/cpa/htm/htm_news_detail.asp?page_id=13&news_id=360›.

In New Zealand Māori are under-represented in the workforce across multiple sectors. This thesis explores this incongruity with regard to Māori health. A Māori perspective and philosophical foundation formed the basis of the methodological approach, utilising a case study research design to inform the study. This provided the opportunity to explore Māori health workforce development initiatives and their potential to contribute to improvements and gains in Māori health. It was important that this work take into account social and economic factors and their impact on health, as well as the varying political climates of market oriented reform and a fiscal policy focus, because it has not only challenged Māori health development but also provided opportunities for increased Māori involvement and participation in health and New Zealand society. Therefore the thesis, while focused on health takes cognisance of and, coincides with the capacity and capability building efforts that have been a feature of overall Māori development, progress and advancement. In the context of this thesis Māori health workers are seen as leaders within their whānau, hapū, iwi, and Māori communities. Consequently a potential workforce that is strong and powerful can lead to anticipated gains in Māori health alongside other Māori movements for advancement. The potential cannot be under-estimated. This thesis argues that there are critical success factors, specific determinants, influencing Māori health workforce potential, and that these success factors have wider application. Therefore, as this thesis suggests Māori workforce development, especially in relationship to the health workforce, is dependent on effective Māori leadership, the application of Māori values to workplace practices, levels of resourcing that are compatible with training and development, critical mass, and targeted policies and programmes.

There is a requirement for all services within the New Zealand health system to be accredited with an established quality organisation and to demonstrate an ability to provide a measurable quality service to consumers. For Māori these requirements must make sense in Māori terms. This thesis is based on the view that, for Māori, the concept of health is more effectively expressed as hauora - optimal health and wellbeing for Māori. This thesis makes five contributions to Māori health and Māori health research. First, it identifies a responsive approach to engaging kaumātua effectively in the process of qualitative research. Second, it identifies a fundamental underlying conceptual framework – kaupapa hauora Māori as a means of understanding hauora – expressed in terms derived from kaumātua in Taranaki and Kahungunu. Third, it adapts this conceptual framework into an analytical research framework and then applies it to allow kaupapa hauora Māori (described in terms of worldview, values and ethics) to be identified from a range of data. Fourth, it critically analyses popular models of Māori health – Te Whare Tapa Whā, Te Wheke and Ngā Pou Mana. Finally, it proposes and details post-doctoral research that will translate kaupapa hauora Māori into a quality services framework/tool. “Kaupapa Hauora Māori” is a conceptual framework articulated by kaumātua, and has its origins in te ao Māori, from which the aronga or worldview is developed. The aronga is composed of the kaupapa or values and tikanga or ethics that provide kaumātua with the values base of hauora. These components have been identified by kaumātua and not only inform the concept of KHM but also inform the analytical research framework that is applied to the data. The values have been identified as a core set of values comprising whakapapa, wairua, whenua, whānau, tikanga te reo Māori, tinana, and hinengaro, and the associated tikanga is expressed as behaviour or ethics. These, together, influence the perception and understanding individuals have of their world and of hauora.

Te Ora Ē noho anā nō i te koko ko Ōhiwa, kia whakarongo rua, Aku taringa ki te Tai o tuarā e o Kanawa, E āki ana mai ki uta r o Ōhakana. Ki te whānau a Tairongo, Kai Tāuwhare rā ko te kopua-o-te ururoa, Ko te kai rāria noa mai te raweketia e te ringaringa, Me whakarangi-pūkohu e au ki Tītītangi ao ki te Te Aitanga-ā-Wheturoa, Kia whītikiria taku hope ki te maurea whiritoi, Kia noho au ki Puhi-nui tonu ki Te Maungarongo a Te Rangiāniwaniwa, Ka mawhiti tonu rā taku haere ki ngā tihi tapu ki Maungapōhatu kia Taiturakina; Kia titiro iho au ki Ruatāhuna ki Manawarū ē ko Te Aitanga-ā-Tūhoe.... Ko te hua o te wānanga o a Tūhoe kōrero tuku iho hāngai ki ana waiata tawhito te pūtake o tēnei tuhinga roa kia auhi noa mai te wairua o ngā tūtakinga kōrero kia riro ko ēnei kōrero tuku iho hei matua hikihiki, whakataratara i te hinengaro, i te wairua, e mau ai tēnei o ngā whare whakairo kōrero o te hua o te wānanga a Tūhoe. Kia kaiaohia aua kōrero ki te ura mai o te motu ki runga i ngā pae maunga o Huiarau tau iho ki a tātau e pōkai kaha nei, e tau awhi nei ki runga i te mata o tēnei whenua ātaahua. Ka paenga rā ngā tau ka kitea, ka rangona tēnā pu kōrero, tēnā whare whakairo kōrero, whakairo waiata. Mea rawa ake kua whakangaro atu ki te tira e tauwhare mai rā. Hika rawa ake, kua mawhiti kē te haere ki te mākau nui o te iwi e tīraha mai rā, tē whakaaratia! Kia rangona, kia kitea noa e tātau te mata kōrero kia eke rā ki runga, taihoa rawa ēnei taonga e ngaro, taihoa rawa nei taonga e haukotia. Ka huri whakauta ki te hua o te wānanga, ko te waiata tawhito tēnā, ko te momo rerenga kōrero i hua mai ai i roto i ngā noho tahitanga a te tangata. He kupu ēnei hei whakaata i te hinengaro, wairua, te taiao, ngā rākau, te wai, te moana, ngā whetu, te whenua, ngā pakanga, te kawa o te marae, te noho tahitanga a ngā tūākana\tāina\tuāhine. Te reo o mātua, o kuia, koroua, ngā kaipupuri i te ahi kā roa o te wā kāinga. Inā hoki ko nga āhuatanga o te tangata tēnā tōna hanga, tōna whakatipu, ōna whakaaro, tōna ngākau, tōna wairua, me ngā momo hāhi i tipu ake ai te pono, ka titiro iho te tika i te rangi ka oti nei he waiata e tipuria ai te hua o te wānanga ki roto i a tātau katoa. Waihoki ko aua waiata nei te ahi whakakā roa o te ngākau,kei kona ōna timatatanga, engari kāore nei ōna whakamutunga. Ka pikitia ake te toi huarewa kia kite noa atu i te kaha o te whakaaro. Ko te wāhanga nui ia kia hapaina tēnei tuhinga roa, hei whakaoho, hei tuku, hei tātari i ngā whiriwhiringa kōrero ā-tuhi, ā-wāha kei roto i te whare kōrero o te whānau, hapū, iwi e timata ai, e mau ai te hua o te wānanga o te whaitua whenua. Tae atu ki ngā takahanga whakaewa ka oti nei he waiata tawhito hei kaiarataki ki ngā tihi maunga o te whakaaro. Ko te kapunga whakaaro ko te whātoro, i te tātari i te kupu, ki te whakamārama i te hua o te wānanga hei tumu whakarae kōhikohi mōhiotanga ki runga, ki raro ki ngā tai timu o te hua o te wānanga. I roto i tēnei tuhinga roa ka takea mai te wānanga i te kore, i te pō, i te ao mārama e tohea ai ngā kete e toru o te wānanga hei anga tohutohu, piki tūranga whakaakoranga ki hea mai nei! Mai i roto i aua kete ka nanahu te hinengaro kōkoi o tātau tīpuna mai anō i te ao Māori. Ko te ao mārama tēnā, ko te ao whenua tēnā, ko ngā pakanga tēnā, ko ngā tinihanga ēnā, ko te apakura, ko te hakamomori ka hua nei te wānanga. Nō reira he mahi, he kaupapa nui tā tēnei tuhinga roa ki te whakakao mai i ngā waiata e mohio ana tātau hei papa kōrero, hei wānanga mā te hunga kei te piki ake i ngā takutai moana o te whakaaro, o tēnei ao e wehi mai nei ki a tātau. Kāre e mihi kei te hopo te iwi, te hunga mau i ēnei waiata ki runga i o tātau marae kei ngaro memeha noa ēnei taonga a tātau. Ae! Kei te tika tā rātau hopo. Inā hoki kua riro kē te reo whakaarorangi i te oro o te waiata i ngā tai nenehawa, whakapōrearea e hukahuka mai nei. Ahakoa tēnei kei te whakaara ake ēnei waiata i runga tonu i te kaha o tēna, o tēna ki te whakaara. Kei te tahuri nui mai te hunga rangatahi, taiohi ki ēnei waiata koia tēnei te tūmatanui o tēnei tuhinga roa, hei tāhu whakaea mo te hinengaro, mo te ngākau o aua whakatipuranga e hiahia nei rātau ki ēnei taonga. Mā te karakia hei waere te whenua, mā te taki i ngā kōrero mo ngā atuā te whakataukī, te whakapepeha ka pupuke mai te hihiri o te mahara i ō tātau tipuna kōkoi e whakakitea nei tātau i ēnei rā ki aua tohu. Ka huia rnai aua pitopito kōrero katoa hei kākahu maeneene ki roto i te kupu o te waiata tawhito, kā mau. He whakaatu tēnei tuhinga roa kei te ora tēnei o ngā momo whare pupuri kōrero i te pū; i te more, te weu me ngā pātaka iringa kōrero o te ao ō Tūhoe ō neherā, tae noa mai ki ēnei rā. Kāti he wā anō i roto i taua ora ka tōia te whakaaro ō Tūhoe, ō te Māori e tauiwi hei tinihanga māna. Engari e kitea ai i roto i tēnei tuhinga roa, ko te toki hei kaupare atu i taua tinihanga ko te kōrero i tuarātia rā: 'Hokia ki o maunga kia purea koe e ngā hau o Tāwhirimātea' Koia tēnā te kaupapa o tēnei tuhinga roa he tātari i te hānuitanga, te taiwhakatū o taua kōrero: Hokia ki o maunga... Ma taua kōrero Hokia ki o maunga ... ka rangona te mātaotao o te hua o te wānanga o te pakanga o te whenua, o ngā pikikōtuku i tukitukia, kātahi ka kōrero ai ki roto i tā Tūhoe whakatau i ana whakaaro, e taea ai te ruruku ka puea ake. Koia tēnei ko te mana i roto i ngā whakatakotoranga kōrero e mau ai te kurataininihi, te kurataiwawana o te whakaaro. He hua wānanga tēnei e whakaatungia ai e te hinengaro ngā takahanga motuhake, me te hāngai o ā rātau kupu mo ngā whakaaro e tau nei ki tēnei Ao Hurihuri. Nā ngā mahi a ō tātau tīpuna, te para i te huarahi kia takahuritia ai ngā mahi kikino o te riri Pākehā i tū ake ai ngā poropiti o aua tau kikino i rnurua ai ngā whenua, i tukua ai te iwi ki raro. I tū ake ai rātau te hunga poropiti ki te rapu i te ora i te kaupapa tōrangapū mo ngā whenua i hahanitia. Mai i ēnei kaupapa ka hau te rongo o te waiata tawhito hei tūāpapa whakaohooho, whakanekeneke i a tātau katoa, ahakoa ko wai. Whā tekau katoa ngā waiata o tēnei tuhinga roa rnai i tēnā kokona o Tūhoe, rnai i tēnā kokona o Tūhoe e kawe ana i te hua wānanga hei whakaata, hei kōwhiri i te hunga i kaha i rnau tonu te ngangahau i ngā totohe kōrero, totohe tangata, totohe whenua. I kona ka hua te wānanga ka tohea te riri ka mau, i ea ai tētahi wāhi o te mamae. Koia tēnei ko te whakaatu i te kaha o te tohe i te pō, i te awatea. Ko te kawa o te marae te ātamira whakatāhu, tuku i aua hua wānanga i nei rā e rangona ai te kōrero ā-iwi, te hī o te mita o te reo waiata hei hokinga atu ki te nohoanga o te kupu. Ko tētahi anō kaupapa o tēnei tuhinga roa he whakahoki mai anō i te rnatapihi o Matariki, kia meinga ai ki te kairangi o te kawa o te marae, ka tau ki te whenua i maringi ai te toto. Ko ēnei hua wānanga te oro o te ngākau o Te Ūrewera, te whītiki o te kī mo te tuakiri mo tēnā whakatipuranga, rno tēnā whakatipuranga. Ae! Mā te hua wānanga a Tūhoe e whakaea te mamae e puta ai te pātai. Ko wai rā au? I ahu mai taku wānanga i whea? E ahu ana au ki whea? No te rā nei kua riro mā tēnei tuhinga roa e whakaatu ētahi o ngā hau kikino i whakawhiua kirunga i te iwi e te kāwanatanga i a ia e āki mai ana mo ngā rawa a te iwi, hei tuku he tangatakē. Nō reira i tikina ai te tauparapara a Te Kapo o te Rangi hei whakatauira i te takenga mai ongā kōrero mai i te koko ki Ōhiwa ki te pō, ki te pouri, ki te ao mārama. 'Hokia ki maunga' ko te tangata, ko te iwi, ko te hapū, ko te whānau te tīmatanga o te hua o te wānanga. Koia tēnei tētahi anō kaupapa o tēnei tuhinga roa, he āhuru i aua pukenga tautōhito kōrero kia mau te rangi, kia mau te hā, kia rangona te hua wānanga, oho ake ki te ao ka oti nei he waiata tawhito hei hoa haere whakamua. Ko te kōpae o te whare tēnā e tautokona ana hoki te ahu whakamuatanga o ngā mōrehu kōrero e arohatia nei e tātau. He huarahi atu tēnei hei āwhina, hei tohu i te kei o te waka ki ngā ngaru kokoti e pukepuke rnai nei. Ko te whakapae o tēnei tuhinga roa e titikaha ai ki te hinengaro o Tūhoe me mau ana momo kōrero ki ngā momo hangarau o tēnei ao hurihuri kā tika. Kua roa ēnei taonga e ārikarika ana hei whakarei i te kupu kōrero ki te hunga mate, ki te tira e tatari rnai rā i te waharoa o te marae ki te whakaeke. Kei roto i te wairua o tēnei mahi ka tukua āianei ēnei taonga kia kore ai tātau e taka ki roto i te korekore o te hinengaro, hei whakamahi mā te tamaiti o Tūhoe e hiki ake nei i ngā pae tata, i ngā pae tawhiti. Ko tēnei tuhinga roa te kura kimihia o te ura rnai o te motu i tua atu o Huiarau. Kia hau ai te rongo o a tāitau kōrero ki mua i a tātau hei homai i te aroha kia au ai te matatū tonu, ka maranga kei runga. Kia taria te roanga o te kōrero. Ae! Me hoki rā kā tika: Kā hoki nei au ki te mauri o taku waka a Mātaatua Ko Pūtauaki ki a Ngāti Awa Ko Tāwhiuau, ko Tangiharuru Ko te rae rā o Kohi ki a Awatope Ko Mānuka tūtahi ki Whakatāne, kia Apanui Ko te mauri haria mai nei hei whakaoho i taku moe Ē kō kō ia e ara ē!

This thesis explores the phenomenon of shared leadership as it emerged in three primary schools in Aotearoa/New Zealand, during the 1990s restructuring of educational administration. At this time, two 'mainstream' discourses of professional collaborative leadership and neo-liberal managerialism came into 'collision.' The principal's role was re-constituted from being a collaborative instructional leader, to being a chief executive, entrepreneurial manager. Separate contracts for principals and senior school managers detailed managerial tasks, performance standards and accountability lines that heightened the existing divisions between them and other teachers. The possibility of developing 'flattened,' more democratic forms of shared decision making- and leadership seemed increasingly remote. Yet it was in this context that a small number of co-principalships were initiated around the country. The study employs narrative, Foucauldian and feminist poststructuralist discourse analysis tools to examine how opportunities for change opened up within 'cracks' and contradictions in the 1990s discursive terrain of educational leadership. Moving between micro and macro analyses, the thesis demonstrates how individual and collective agency is enacted within and against dominant discourses, effecting transformations of practice. Three groups of women challenged and/or co-opted elements of managerial, professional and feminist discourses of organisation as they developed their co-principalships. These initiatives opened up for many people different ways of thinking about and practising school leadership: as one child said about her school, "Here there is no boss." Three case narratives provide insights into strategies for developing more fully democratic partnerships between principals and staff, principals and board members, professionals and parents. Open, honest communication and mutual forms of accountability that go beyond current requirements for contractual, task specific and linear forms of control, are particularly significant for a successful co-principalship. Governmental forms of power, material inequalities and socio-cultural hegemonies of gender, class and ethnicity, can constrain the democratic potential of shared leaderships however. Related factors that led to the disestablishment of two or the co-principalships included inequalities of knowledge and experience, difficulties over funding and staffing, and struggles between a governing body and their co-principals over the meanings and practices of governance and management. There are flaws in arguments that posit a generic model of 'strong' management that can be imposed across all schools, with assumed uniform results. This study shows how people's beliefs about and practices of school leadership are constituted in relation to their own backgrounds, interactions with other people in their local school community and wider socio-political, economic and discursive struggles over power.

This thesis explored the socio-political experiences and views of seven Maori women from the tribe of Whakatahea. The project adopted a Maori-centred theoretical and research approach that included the researcher as a member of the researched group. It aimed to draw out the common themes, from the women's recollections of their experiences and views of the socio-political decision-making affairs within whanau, hapu, and iwi. The women identified barriers to participation and strategies to overcome these barriers. Qualifications reflected traditional Maori values and practices. Rights according to whakapapa, and the principle "he kanohi kitea", being seen, were the obvious criterion. Poor information channels, minimal consultation, gender bias, age and time constraints were some of the issues identified as barriers to participation. It was found that whanau governance committees more closely reflected traditional values and customs that saw women and men as sharing power, more so than hapu and iwi organisations. The gender imbalance was viewed, by the women participants, as problematic. They concluded that better gender balance at all levels of the socio-political affairs of Whakatohea would ensure greater informed decision-making for the social, educational, economic, and spiritual well-being of the tribe today and for future generations.

The ramifications of school decline are profoundly serious for the students, staff and community of a school. School decline is the steady downwards spiral that some schools experience when a complex set of influences interact with negative and unresolved outcomes. This study explored the largely unresearched area of school decline and developed a set of potential predictors of decline that could assist in understanding, preventing or dealing effectively with school decline in the future. Grounded theory, selected as a methodology appropriate for exploratory research, was used to guide the process of data collection and theory development. Three schools, labeled by agencies and the media as being in serious decline or “failing”, were selected for the study. Adults who were in significant roles in the schools during the decline periods were interviewed about their experiences. As part of the data analysis and interpretation a set of propositions was drafted and was sent to these interviewees and to fourteen educational advisors who work with schools at risk and in decline. The advisors’ feedback on the propositions, analysis of school related documents, Education Review Office reports and Ministry of Education file documents provided rich additional data. The factors associated with the lead up to school decline, and the process of decline, are multilayered, contextual and complex. Each study school’s experience of decline involved a unique combination and order of occurrence of common factors and influences. Many of the issues that predispose schools towards decline are associated with, and are exacerbated by, unethical or unprofessional attitudes or behaviour by individuals, and unprofessional practices within the schools and between neighbouring schools. Once decline begins it escalates and is difficult to stop. This thesis contributes towards the development of a theory of school decline by identifying potential predictors of school decline and by describing how decline begins and escalates. It also identifies factors that are associated with interventions being insufficient or ineffective. The theory of school decline provides insights for school leaders and educational agencies that may assist in the prediction and prevention of school decline in the future.

This thesis examines the policy document Better Relationships for Better Learning: Guidelines for Boards of Trustees and Schools on Engaging with Mäori Parents, Whanau, and Communities (Ministry of Education, 2000a). The thesis is concerned with an examination and analysis of the Ministry of Education’s policy Better Relationships for Better Learning document and its implementation as evidenced by a case study school. The thesis demonstrates that while Government policy may intend to benefit Maori, the outcomes do not necessarily do so. It is argued that neither Government nor schools, as agents of the state, are neutral bodies but in large part reflect the influence of the majority over the provision of education for Maori. The claim for school/Maori partnerships made in the policy Better Relationships for Better Learning ignores the founding partnership envisaged through the Treaty of Waitangi. Maori participation as partners in negotiating the terms of the relationship with the school is ignored. This thesis examines the function of those relationships in terms of ‘Better Learning’, investigating the developments and practices in schools for Maori children’s learning.

Fairness, forgiveness and grudge-holding are concepts which underlie many aspects of our interpersonal relationships. Fairness is the foundation of our day-to-day communication with others and forgiveness is concerned with a positive strategy used to manage negative emotional experiences of underserved [i.e. undeserved] unfair treatment. Grudge-holding results as an accumulation of negative feelings, which are associated with the original experience of unfairness. Two experimental studies investigated children’s perceptions of, feelings about, and reactions towards the unfair behaviour of a mother and a friend, by individually inviting the children to scenario-based interview sessions, which included three imaginary tasks. The children were asked to judge the fairness of a mother and a best friend’s treatment towards a child protagonist and to report their associated feelings, after listening to a scenario that described an interaction between a child and a mother and an interaction between a child and a friend. They further responded to three scenario-based experimental tasks, regarding their willingness to grant forgiveness, as opposed to expressions of hostility. In the first study, the children’s willingness to forgive, as a result of unfairness, was explored with 82 local primary school children in Palmerston North, New Zealand, whose ages ranged from 8- to 11-years-old, in addition to 50 parents of these participating children. The parents also completed a questionnaire about their approaches to their children’s common misbehaviours. The study found that the children were typically willing to grant forgiveness to a mother, even though she had been unfair. Their forgiveness tendencies were not related to aspects of parental disciplinary behaviour. However, an examination of the children’s verbatim responses through the use of thematic analysis revealed the complex nature of the relationship between parent and child concerning tolerance for mistakes. In the second study, I explored on whether the children’s repeated exposure to unfairness would contribute to their display of grudge-holding against a mother or a best friend in the scenarios and this investigation involved 55 local primary children, whose ages ranged from 8- to 12-years-old, in Wellington, New Zealand. The children participated in individual scenario-based interview sessions, which included three imaginary tasks over the two time periods, one week apart from each other. The children’s levels of grudge-holding was measured by analysing the possible increase in hostility, which the children expressed from Time 1 to Time 2. The study showed that a repeated experience of unfairness had a noticeable effect on the children’s level of hostility towards the person who was unfair and especially towards the best friend. The children’s verbatim comments also suggested some evidence of accumulated negativity in their responses to an unfairness experience. Thus, this study proved to be a suitable paradigm for operationalising grudge-holding in children.

This thesis examines the spirituality and participation in faith-based activities of young Catholics in Whangarei, New Zealand. Six youth aged 16-17 years have shared their experiences in several areas of Catholicism such as religious attendance, Catholic identity and Catholic faith, morals and values, peer group socialisation and religious commitment. Using a qualitative mixed-methodological approach with the underlying philosophical stance of interpretivism, the intent of the study is to discover ways in which these young Catholics integrate their faith into their daily lives and make meaning out of it. It also compares the religious beliefs and values of Catholic youth in Whangarei to those reported worldwide. The findings reveal many similar themes to those from international studies. Although all of the participants in this study possessed a distinct sense of ‘spirituality’ and being ‘Catholic’ was a very important part of their identity, not all of them seemed to consider it practical to live out their Catholic beliefs. Similarly, although they did not face any insurmountable challenges in practicing their faith in daily life, only a few of them had strong convictions about their faith and, like their peers in other countries, only a few could concretely list the core Catholic beliefs. Concepts of moralistic therapeutic deism were found to affect half the participants while nuances of moralistic relativism were also prevalent. Results also showed a growing disinterest in attending Mass, participating in the sacrament of Confession, leading an active prayer life, being a part of church youth activities and some difficulty in finding similar peer group support. Overall, the findings presented in this thesis suggested that the participants involved in the study could be separated into two groups on the basis of their differing spiritual levels and commitment to the Catholic faith The findings suggest a need for Catholic youth in Whangarei to be supported in their spiritual development in order to help them grow in their Catholic faith. Accordingly, the main recommendations are for community-based services such as providing a variety of youth programmes/groups to engage young people and finding ways to facilitate the secure engagement of youth in a dialogue about their faith and religion, in order to spiritually encourage, nourish and sustain them at whatever stage they might be at.

This thesis is primarily a study of organisational approaches used by Maori to achieve their development goals and aspirations. One focus is the impact of development ideas and practice, largely driven by international and national influence, upon Maori. Another focus is the role of the state in the direction and implementation of Maori development with particular emphasis on the impact of the structural adjustment programme. As a consequence, the relationships between Maori and the state, Maori and Maori, and Maori with others are critically examined. The thesis canvasses a number of disciplines including Maori history, ecology, sociology, anthropology, environmental studies, management, and development studies. Engaging with this broad spectrum of ideas and actions and using literature based, empirical and participatory research tools, three themes are explored. They are: (i) The theme of 'development' which examines international and national perspectives of development in order to identify the merits of Shifting the praxis of Maori development; (ii) The theme of 'organisation' which explores local and wider perspectives of organisational theory and practice in order to identify the implications for Maori organisations; (iii) The theme of 'relationship' which investigates a wide range of perspectives about the dynamic relationships between Maori themselves and with others, and the opportunities to reaffinn and build new relationships. The thesis concludes with an analysis of current thought and action before presenting five major conclusions. In essence and simply stated, if Maori self-determination is the destination then the journey is best guided by a Maori centred approach to development and organisational arrangements that are cognisant of the contemporary circumstances, in particular the relationship dynamics, that challenge Maori and the life choices they make.