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TAIRAWHITI
“We think in generations, not in quarterly reports.”
That isn’t a cheerful bonfire, it’s a massive cleanup operation. In Tairāwhiti the beaches are smothered in dead wood. Mountains are sliding into rivers; forests swarm with possums. While officials demur, transfixed by the bottom line, the people who belong to this land are moving home—and working to repair it. From 1865, the government acquired hundreds of thousands of hectares of Tairāwhiti land by force. When Ngāti Porou resisted land sales, officials used the Native Lands Act to confiscate vast chunks of land—by splitting it into individual titles, or tying it up in complicated leases. Since then, permissive land use legislation and targeted subsidies have centred profits for landowners or leaseholders—mainly Pākehā or overseas investors in farming or forestry. In the early 1900s the land was burnt off for farming. When the pasture slipped off the hills it was replanted in pine. But this is some of the softest, steepest land in the world. Every few decades, when the pine is harvested, it’s like pushing on a wound. Clocking that cycle, as well as poor official oversight and increasingly severe storms driven by the climate crisis, many locals were not surprised when Cyclone Gabrielle tore strips off bare hillsides in February last year, pulling swathes of pine plantation down with it. Afterwards, former National minister Hekia Parata, herself Ngāti Porou, led a ministerial inquiry into land use in Tairāwhiti. Her report calls the use of land here an “environmental disaster, hiding in plain sight”. The report recommends a credit system to incentivise native forests, investment in climate adaptation, tighter forestry legislation and support for Māori to use their land. Transition to more sustainable land use, it says, is urgent; the list of ills reads almost like a post-mortem. “Sedimentation from more than a thousand untreated gullies, trees, logs and slash off hills that should never be plantation planted or clear felled, waterways choked with debris flows, riverbeds aggraded, coastlines suffocated and dangerous, roads and bridges unfit, unpassable, and many broken. Ngāti Porou tangata whenua, the people of this land, are in peril.” But in one of the most economically deprived areas of the country, the way forward is not simple. Keep reading...
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