Anderson & Bristowe - final before TS Correspondence Address: Vivienne Anderson, College of Education, University of Otago, PO Box 56, Dunedin 9054, Aotearoa New Zealand; Email: vivienne.anderson@otago.ac.nz ISSN: 1911-4788 Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 Re-placing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education: Reflections from Aotearoa New Zealand VIVIENNE ANDERSON University of Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand ZOË BRISTOWE University of Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand ABSTRACT Aotearoa New Zealand is a small, island nation located on the rim of Oceania. Since colonisation by British settlers in the mid-1800s, the internationalisation of higher education (HE) in Aotearoa New Zealand has reflected shifting notions of nationhood – from an extension of Great Britain, to a (separate) bicultural nation, to a player in the global knowledge economy. Since the late 1980s, internationalisation policy has reflected the primacy of market concerns; the internationalisation of HE has been imagined primarily as a means to attract export revenue and human capital to Aotearoa New Zealand, and to increase brand recognition. However, internationalisation, as the movement of people and knowledge between places, can also be seen as pre-dating the development of nations, particularly in the Oceania context. Within mātauranga Māori, or Māori (indigenous) epistemological traditions, place is central to identity. To be human is to be part of something bigger than oneself; care for the land is care both for ancestors and the wellbeing of future generations. In this paper, we (re)consider internationalised HE in light of three questions that are central to mātauranga Māori: “Who am I? What is this world that I exist in? What am I to do?” (Royal, 2012, p. 35). After tracing the connections between internationalisation, colonisation, and nationhood in Aotearoa New Zealand, we consider how attention to Māori place-based epistemologies and values drawn from mātauranga Māori might challenge, stretch and ground contemporary internationalisation policies and practices in Aotearoa New Zealand. KEYWORDS internationalisation; higher education; Aotearoa New Zealand; policy; Māori epistemologies Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 411 Introduction Within mātauranga Māori (Māori epistemological traditions), place is central to identity. Explanations for the origins of life involve connections between atua (“ancestor[s] of ongoing influence, spirit being, creative power”; Reilly, 2018, p. 12) and the natural world. Whakapapa or geneologies recognise the spiritual and natural world – past, present, and future – as interconnected. To be human is to be part of something bigger than oneself; care for the land is care both for ancestors and the wellbeing of “future generations of living things” (Reilly, 2018, p. 29). The link between place and identity is captured in the word whenua, which carries a range of meanings, including both land and placenta (Mead, 2016). According to tikanga (correct Māori cultural practices), a newborn baby’s placenta is buried on a site which has ancestral importance to their whānau (family). The return of whenua (placenta) to whenua (land) grounds the baby as a new member of “the group [that] are tied to the land. The group so bonded are called tangata whenua” (Mead, 2016, p. 286). The connection between people and land within mātauranga Māori is also evident in the names for larger social units; groups of whānau who share a common ancestor make up hapū (a word that also means pregnant), and hapū make up iwi or tribal groups (a word that refers to both relatives and bones). As Mead explains, “pregnancy, birth, the placenta, the umbilical cord and bones (hapū, whenua, pito, iwi) become enmeshed in the concept of whenua, as land” (p. 286). In this paper, we consider how values drawn from mātauranga Māori might challenge extractive, Western supremacist understandings of higher education (HE) internationalisation (Stein & Andreotti, 2016). Our understanding of mātauranga Māori is informed by Royal (2012) and Hikuroa (2017). Hikuroa describes mātauranga Māori as “incorporating evidence, culture, values and world view” (p. 5). Royal (2012) argues that, as such, it addresses three “great questions of life: Who am I? What is this world that I exist in? What am I to do?” (p. 35). In this paper, we consider Royal’s questions in relation to the “world” of internationalised HE, in light of three values drawn from mātauranga Māori : kaitiakitanga, whanaungatanga, and manaakitanga. The paper is structured as follows. First, we draw on Taylor’s (2002) notion of social imaginaries to consider how understandings of internationalisation in Aotearoa New Zealand have shifted over time, alongside changing notions of nationhood and education, in a context marked by enduring colonial relationships. Next, we consider three values that are intrinsic to the ways in which place and personhood are understood in mātauranga Māori – kaitiakitanga, whanaungatanga and manaakitanga – reflecting on the possible implications of each for policy and practice in internationalised HE. Although, in this paper, we primarily draw on epistemic resources from Aotearoa New Zealand, we also consider how the ideas we discuss connect with wider scholarship from the Oceania region and beyond, Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 412 and whether they might raise questions for internationalised HE more broadly. Imagining Internationalised Higher Education (HE) in the Aotearoa New Zealand Context In this paper, we use the term “imagine” after Charles Taylor (2002), who describes as a “social imaginary” the “way ordinary people ‘imagine’ their social surroundings” (p. 106). He notes that social imaginaries are always “complex” – incorporating “a sense of the normal expectations that we have of one another, [and] the kind of common understanding which enables us to carry out the collective practices that make up our social life” (p. 106). Other scholars have applied his ideas to the internationalisation of HE, including Andreotti, Stein, Pashby and Nicolson (2016), and Stein and Andreotti (2016). Stein and Andreotti argue that contemporary internationalisation imaginaries are “rooted in Western supremacy,” where “the West” is considered to be “at the top of a global hierarchy of humanity with the rest of the world trailing behind” (2016, p. 226). “Western” education is seen as “a desirable product in the global higher education market” (p. 226), and international students, as a source of revenue and human capital; as “inferior participants in the contest for social mobility through educational and employment opportunities”; and as “objects of development” or recipients of “Western knowledge” (p. 226). In settler colonial contexts, such as Aotearoa New Zealand, Western supremacist ways of imagining (and enacting) internationalisation can be seen as a continuation of colonial histories and understandings of the nation (Larner, 1998a). However, internationalisation as the movement of people and knowledge between places, can also be seen as pre-dating the development of nations (see Hau’ofa, 1994). Takayama (2016) cautions against essentialising the West, calling for attention to other contexts as “epistemic resource[s]” and sites of knowledge production (p. 15). Similarly, Santos (2012) calls for attention to “epistemologies of the South” (p, 43), in order to find “an alternative thinking of alternatives” (p. 52). This paper responds to these calls in relation to internationalised HE, with a focus on the Aotearoa New Zealand context. Aotearoa New Zealand is an island nation of approximately five million people, located on the south-west edge of Oceania. Archeological evidence suggests that Aotearoa New Zealand has been inhabited by iwi Māori (Māori tribal groups) for around 800 years (Walter & Reilly, 2018). In Aotearoa New Zealand, as in other contexts, internationalisation can be seen as both an historical and contemporary phenomenon (Reisberg & Rumbley, 2014); the islands of Oceania (including Aotearoa New Zealand) have been shaped by the movement of people and ideas between places since human habitation began (Hau’ofa, 1994). According to Māori oral tradition, Māori came to Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 413 Aotearoa New Zealand from Hawaiki via waka, or ocean-going canoes (Walter & Reilly, 2018), continuing to traverse the Pacific Ocean, or Moana- nui-a-Kiwa, over multiple generations (Evans, 2009; Walter & Reilly, 2018). For Māori, as for other Oceanic peoples, the ocean served as a means of connection, rather than separation, between places and peoples (Hau'ofa, 1994). However, nationhood (and therefore, notions of inter-nationalisation based on bounded understandings of nationhood) can also be seen as a colonial construct (Hau'ofa, 1994; Stein, 2017). Aotearoa New Zealand offers a striking example. Constructions of nationhood (and related understandings of internationalisation) reveal both shifts over time (Larner, 1998b), and the enduring force of white supremacy (Bishop, 2005; Kidman et al., 2017). Tauiwi (or people from abroad) first arrived in the early 1800s – initially, whalers, sealers, traders and missionaries, followed by (other) settlers (Reilly & Olssen, 2018). Following the 1840 signing of te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Treaty of Waitangi), Aotearoa New Zealand was established as a British colony, and nation of two peoples: Māori and Pākehā (Bishop, 1998; Spoonley, 1993).1 The Treaty – signed by Governor Hobson as representative of the British Crown, and iwi representatives – can be seen as “charter for power sharing in the decision-making processes of [the] country,” and for Māori, self-determination as indigenous people (Bishop, 1998, p. 216). However, the Treaty’s signing was followed by more than a century of land confiscation, discriminatory social policy, and overt institutional denigration of te reo Māori, the Māori language (Belgrave, 2018; Bishop, 2005). Larner (1998a) describes three ways in which internationalisation was imagined and enacted in Aotearoa New Zealand following the signing of the Treaty. Each can be seen as grounded in colonial understandings of the nation. Prior to World War II, internationalisation in trade and education reflected a view of Aotearoa New Zealand as “Britain’s farm” (Larner, 1998a, p. 602). Universities were charged with producing “loyal colonial subjects” who would willingly serve “the Empire… anywhere in the world” (Rizvi, 2004, p. 34). Indigenous knowledges and perspectives were discounted in school curricula and academic scholarship (Bishop, 2005; Simon & Smith, 2001), and protestant Anglo-Celts were the preferred migrant population (Brooking & Rabel, 1995). Indigenous people and non- Anglo-Celt migrants experienced varying degrees of overt and institutionally- sanctioned discrimination, or racism (Spoonley, 1993). Following World War II, the ways in which internationalisation and nationhood were imagined began to reflect a view of Aotearoa New Zealand as a separate nation-state, and education, as crucial for “social coherence” and “national economic security” (Larner, 1998a, p. 603). An outcome was the 1950s Colombo Plan, a programme aimed at promoting “cooperative 1 Pākehā is a term that is contested, but generally associated with whiteness (Bell, 2009; Mohanram, 1998). Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 414 economic and social development in Asia and the Pacific” (Ministry of Foreign Affairs & Trade, 2001, p. 5). Under the Colombo Plan, a select group of predominantly Asian international students were funded to study in New Zealand in the hope that they would promote stability in their respective countries during a period of Cold War politics and regional decolonisation (see Rizvi, 2004).2 Concurrent shifts in immigration policy reflected the growing labour needs of the country’s industrial sector. An increased need for semi or un-skilled labour in urban centres from the 1950s onwards was filled largely by Māori who moved from rural areas to cities, and migrants from the Pacific region (Spoonley, 1993). Despite their importance in terms of the labour market, Māori and Pacific peoples remained racialised in public discourse – positioned as an economic and social threat or problem (Schwimmer, 1968; Spoonley & Macpherson, 2004). By the 1970s, Māori reassertion of indigenous rights was challenging dominant Anglocentric notions of nationhood and derogatory representations of Māori in social policy, education, and research (see Awatere, 1982; Jackson, 1987; Walker, 1987, 1990). As a result of Māori political and social action (for example, land marches and land occupations) by the mid-1980s, policy in Aotearoa New Zealand began to reflect an espoused commitment to biculturalism, or partnership between Māori and Pākehā (Walker, 1990). The emergence of biculturalism as a way of imagining nationhood can be seen as a significant response to “a glaring historical disregard” for Māori indigenous rights (Barclay, 2005, p. 120). However, it also highlights how notions of nationhood change over time. Since the arrival of tauiwi in the early 1800s, Aotearoa New Zealand has never been a simple mix of indigenous and British (or even white) New Zealanders, and lip-service to biculturalism at policy level has not translated into biculturalism in practice. Some scholars have noted how a bicultural understanding of nationhood effectively excludes some people even as it includes others (Mohanram, 1998; Zodgekar, 2005), due to the association of Pākehā with whiteness (see Bell, 2009). Larner (1998a) describes as a third phase of internationalisation the re- imagining of Aotearoa New Zealand “as a node in the flows and networks of the Pacific Rim,” and internationalisation as “globalisation” (p. 607). This phase must be understood in relation to changes occurring at a wider scale, including the increased movement of people, capital and goods between countries, facilitated by increasingly sophisticated information and communication technologies; the increasingly global dominance of Western capitalism and consumerism; the rise of supra-national forms of governance; and the ascendance of neoliberalism as an ideology shaping economic and social policy in many countries (Castles, 1998; Grierson & Engels- Schwarzpaul, 2004; Harvey, 2001, 2003; Rizvi, 2006). Grierson and Engels- Shwarzpaul (2004) associate neoliberalism with the introduction of 2 Rizvi writes about the Australian context but his ideas are applicable to Aotearoa New Zealand. Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 415 “monetarist policies” and the application of a “market-driven agenda” across the policy spectrum (p. 2). In Aotearoa New Zealand, following a national election in 1984, neoliberal principles were applied to social and economic policy – not as some kind of coherent programme, but as a series of responses to existing political problems at the time (Larner, 1998a). However, following a change in government in the early 1990s, neoliberal principles served a more coherent “political rationality” for social and economic policy changes (Larner, 1988a, p. 604) – a full account of which is beyond the scope of this paper and available elsewhere (see Butcher, 2003, 2004a, 2004b; Larner, 1998a, 2003). In brief, key government reports precipitated state sector reforms aimed at reducing state regulation and increasing competition in order to promote economic gain (Butcher, 2003). Education was re-imagined as a “private commodity,” and students, as consumers in an education marketplace (Butcher, 2003, p. 160). Outcomes for the HE sector included the corporatisation of universities, the introduction of competition, and a reduction in government funding for local students, making them increasingly responsible for funding their own (public) education. As universities became increasingly reliant on non-governmental funding, legislative changes in 1989 and 1990 allowed public educational institutions for the first time to market their courses to enrol, and keep the profit from full fee-paying overseas students (Collins, 2006). This precipitated the birth and subsequent explosion of the “export education industry” (Ministry of Education, 2001, p. 8), and a shift from “aid to trade” in how internationalisation was imagined (p. 24). Full fee-paying international students quickly became “a crucial source of funding” for public HE institutions, effectively subsidising domestic education in an era of reduced state expenditure (Butcher, 2004b, p. 259). Within a neoliberal imaginary, internationalised education is fundamental to the development of a knowledge economy rather than to national social cohesion (Information Technology Advisory Group, 1999). Through internationalisation, education can meet the needs of both local and international consumers, and thereby, the purposes of the global marketplace. While all students are simultaneously consumers of educational products and tradable commodities within the knowledge economy, international students in general and full fee-paying international students in particular are especially “big business” (Haigh, 2002, p. 50). Significant changes in education policy and provision in Aotearoa New Zealand during the 1980s and 90s occurred alongside concurrent shifts in immigration policy and flows. A major immigration policy review in 1986 culminated in the 1987 Immigration Act, which for the first time emphasised migrant selection based on skills rather than cultural background and country- of-origin (Brooking & Rabel, 1995). To some extent, this shift can be seen as undermining the Anglocentrism evident in previous immigration policies and practices, while also reflecting the dominance of neoliberal politico-economic Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 416 concerns, namely, a desire to attract skilled migrants and those bringing with them investment capital (Zodgekar, 2005). Although immigration criteria have fluctuated since that time, an outcome of the shifts in both immigration and education policy was a dramatic increase in both migrants and full fee- paying international students from Asian regions (Butcher, 2004b; Collins, 2006; Zodgekar, 2005). Scholars have noted the complex human impacts of immigration and education policy aimed primarily at fostering economic growth (Anderson, 2012; Butcher, 2003; Stein & Andreotti, 2016). More recent education policy developments in Aotearoa New Zealand can be read as mitigating the worst effects of an export education focus, by fostering institutional accountability in relation to student wellbeing. In 2002, a mandatory Code of Practice for the Pastoral Care of International Students was introduced, which was updated in 2016 (New Zealand Qualifications Authority, 2016). The Code sets out the responsibilities of enrolling institutions in relation to professional standards, recruitment processes, information provision, students’ specific needs, accommodation, and student grievances (New Zealand Qualifications Authority, 2016), and only signatories to the Code can recruit and enrol international students. In 2017, an International Student Wellbeing Strategy was also released (New Zealand Government, 2017), providing “an outcomes framework for government agencies to coordinate efforts” in relation to international students’ wellbeing in four areas: economic wellbeing, education, health and wellbeing, and inclusion (p. 4). In 2018, a new strategic document was published that is underpinned by the Wellbeing Strategy, aimed at guiding internationalisation developments across the education sector. The International Education Strategy 2018-2030 (New Zealand Government, 2018) articulates three overarching goals: delivering an excellent education and student experience, achieving sustainable growth, and developing global citizens. The Code of Practice, Wellbeing Strategy and International Education Strategy may be seen as reflecting a step forward for Aotearoa New Zealand, since they acknowledge international students’ rights, emphasise institutional accountability for accurate information provision, and stress the need for institutional practices that protect students’ welfare. However, the Code can also be seen as a regulatory tool that leaves educational institutions with the burden of responsibility with respect to international students (Lewis, 2005). Further, institutional responsibility under the Code continues to reflect an understanding of internationalisation as export education, since it is tagged to students’ fee-paying status. Students with refugee status, permanent residency, and Australian or New Zealand citizenship are excluded, as are international doctoral students, who pay domestic fees. Similarly, although the Wellbeing Strategy claims to take a broader focus, its foreword reveals an ongoing focus on revenue generation; it names “export education” as the country’s “fourth largest export industry,” and the Strategy, as aligned with the government’s trade and business growth agendas (New Zealand Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 417 Government, 2017, p. 4). The Wellbeing Strategy articulates the aim of ensuring that students “feel welcomed,” that their “voices are heard,” and that they receive “culturally responsive services,” however, it positions information-provision as the key means through which students will be enabled to “support themselves” to achieve, and stay safe and well (p. 7). In this sense, the Strategy can be read as an example of “responsibilisation” – its focus is on information-provision that allows individuals to “assume greater and greater responsibility for their own destinies” (McLeod, 2015, p. 45). The International Education Strategy (New Zealand Government, 2018) makes reference to safety and sustainability concerns, to the Oceania (“Pacific”) region as “our own neighbourhood” (p. 3), and to the importance of past and future relationships for international education. However, sustainability is couched in terms of “growth” and the diversification of “markets” (New Zealand Government, 2018, pp. 17-18), and relationships resulting from internationalisation, as “help[ing] us to understand our key trading partners and develop opportunities for growth in many other sectors” (p. 24). Although the Strategy reveals values that are not solely about revenue generation, market concerns nevertheless remain primary in its articulation of other values-based concerns. The way internationalised HE is currently imagined and enacted in Aotearoa New Zealand arguably reflects both the primacy of market concerns, and the ongoing legacy of white settler colonialism (Kidman et al., 2017). Students from Aotearoa New Zealand who travel abroad largely attend other universities in English-speaking countries or countries with whom we share colonial relationships, while (mainly full fee-paying) international students come to New Zealand mostly from Asian regions (see Ministry of Education, personal communication).3 “Northern/Western knowledge” is often represented as the only source of “valid, universally applicable… knowledge claims” (Kidman et al., 2017, p. 3). Māori scholars are grossly under-represented in institutional decision-making positions, although relied upon for cultural leadership at public events (Kidman & Chu, 2017; McAllister et al., 2019). Kukutai and Rata (2017) note that in the area of immigration, Māori perspectives have been disregarded in policy development, although Māori vocabulary and images are used to “window dress” policy material. Similarly, the current International Education Strategy (New Zealand Government, 2018) features a title and subheadings in Māori and English, and an image of a carved wharenui or meeting house on its cover. However, beyond claiming that “many students choose to come to New Zealand to experience our unique culture which recognises te reo Māori as one of our official languages” (p. 10), it shows no evidence of meaningful engagement with iwi Māori, and Māori-led organisations are not listed as key stakeholders (see Appendix 1, pp. 26-27). Kukutai and Rata (2017) argue that (immigration) policy 3 See also http://uis.unesco.org/en/uis-student-flow Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 418 grounded in real engagement with indigenous peoples and perspectives would raise important questions regarding who benefits from, and who is disadvantaged by, specific policy positions. We contend that their argument is relevant to the internationalisation of HE. To Kukutai and Rata, immigration policy that takes seriously the Treaty of Waitangi (arguably, Aotearoa New Zealand’s first immigration policy document) would recognise mana whenua – local Māori collectives – as “genuine authorities” on and “important contributors” to the development of contemporary society (p. 42). Such policy would also recognise manaakitanga as a value that guides interactions with tauiwi, or newcomers from elsewhere (Kukutai & Rata, 2017). In the remainder of this paper, we consider these ideas in relation to the internationalisation of HE. Place, Kaitiakitanga, Whanaungatanga and Manaakitanga Within mātauranga Māori, place and identity are interconnected, as is the past, present and future (Jackson et al., 2018; Hikuroa, 2017). These relationships are reflected in specific values (Hikuroa, 2017), including kaitiakitanga, whanaungatanga and manaakitanga. In this section, we apply these values to internationalised HE, before returning to Royal’s (2012, p. 35) “great questions of life” in the final section of the paper. First, kaitiakitanga. The root word of kaitiakitanga is tiaki – to “care for, guard, protect, keep watch over and shelter” (Kawharu, 2018, p. 88). This idea is encapsulated within whakapapa, the “geneologically ordered knowledge ... that connects people to each other, to other living things, and to the environment” (Jackson et al., 2018, p. 328). Through whakapapa, people are understood as “belong[ing] to the earth,” rather than the other way around (p. 329). Therefore, people have kaitiakitanga (“custodianship and guardianship”) status, in relation to both “the environment and people” (Kawharu, 2018, p. 86). Kaitiakitanga recognises “land... as a source of economy and identity” (Kawharu, 2018, pp. 86-87), and encapsulates both rights – to exercise trusteeship over land with which a person has ancestral connection – and responsibilities – to care for the land, and those within it (Kawharu, 2018). Attention to kaitiakitanga in internationalised HE raises questions about HE benefits and outcomes at a range of scales. Since kaitiakitanga is linked with whakapapa, or ancestral connection to place, attention to kaitiakitanga at a local level requires that policy is grounded in the aspirations of tangata whenua (indigneous people). Māori scholars note a lack of attention to Māori aspirations, knowledge and values in education (Bishop & Glynn, 1999), research (Smith, 1999), and immigration (Kukutai & Rata, 2017). Bishop & Glynn (1999, p. 131) suggest that, in order to contest “structural issues of power and control” in education, we must ask who initiates, benefits from, is represented in, and legitimises policy, and how relations of accountability Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 419 recognise the unique position of tangata whenua or indigenous people. In Aotearoa New Zealand, attention to kaitiakitanga would mean that internationalised HE processes and practices reflected Māori aspirations and values. Similarly, McAllister et al. (2019, p. 245) call for the development of “plural-” rather than uni-versities, in which indigenous bodies, ontologies and epistemologies are “understood as equal partners” at all levels. Notably, they acknowledge that re-imagining education in this way would require thinking “outside of our current economic system” (p. 245, also see Naepi, 2019). Kaitiakitanga might also inform our thinking about internationalised HE at a larger scale. For example, Tongan scholar Epeli Hau’ofa (2008) considers locality in relation to home, conceptualising home as places where people share histories, geographies and languages; and a way of thinking about the world. In terms of locality, Hau’ofa stresses the importance of education that recognises histories, geographies, problems and realities other than “those of the large landmasses, in which hegemonic views and agendas are hatched” (Hau’ofa, 2019, p. 71). In terms of ways of thinking about the world, Hau’ofa distinguishes between a view of “world as property” and a view of the “world as lasting home – home as heritage, a shrine for those who have cared for it and pass it on to us” (pp. 74-75). Hau’ofa calls for attention to “histories, storehouses of knowledge, skills, [and] ideals for social relationships” that are often marginalised in educational settings (p. 71). Konai Helu Thaman (2014), another Tongan scholar, makes a similar point, calling for “cultural democracy” in education, marked by recognition of all learning and teaching as “cultural,” and rejection of deficit assumptions where students do not “fit the institutional culture” (p. 56). Kaitiakitanga-based relationships would drive teaching practices that value and affirm diverse languages and epistemologies (see Thaman, 2014). We consider some practical examples below. Attention to kaitiakitanga also requires attention to the past and the future; or critical interrogation of educational institutions’ role in promoting “discourses on progress” that erode or facilitate “whatever is caring and generous in our existence” (Hau'ofa, 2008, p. 71). In this sense, kaitiakitanga suggests a need to interrogate the asymmetries inherent in contemporary internationalisation arrangements, and to consider the long-term implications of educational arrangements, rather than focusing on short-term revenue generation (Kukutai & Rata, 2017) or brand recognition (Altbach & Knight, 2007). Internationalised education that reflects kaitiakitanga recognises the complex kinship ties (and associated violations) that led to contemporary educational relationships, and considers the outcomes of contemporary relationships on future generations (Madge et al., 2009). This leads to whanaungatanga. Whanaungatanga is often associated with the word whānau, which refers to kinship ties, in either a whakapapa (geneological) or metaphorical sense (Durie, 1997). In terms of geneology, whanaungatanga can be understood in terms of the ways in which “whānau ties and responsibilities are Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 420 strengthened” (Durie, 1997, p. 2). Metaphorically, whanaungatanga can be seen as reflecting attention to historically-grounded relationships, and a commitment to strengthening relationships that sustain life, moving forward (Durie, 1997). McNatty & Roa (2002) identify an alternative explanation of whanaungatanga as related to whanau, or “leaning together” (p. 90). Practice guidelines for teachers in the Aotearoa New Zealand schools sector have described whanaungatanga as enacted through relational teaching, where teachers demonstrate engagement with students’ ideas and perspectives, and respect for students’ wider kinship commitments and networks (Ministry of Education & New Zealand Teachers Council, 2011). Durie (1997) explains that, when applied to educational settings, whanaungatanga also involves the establishment of tuakana/teina (older sibling/younger sibling) relationships – ways of learning that nurture belonging, connection, and cooperation between people. Spiller (2013) suggests that in business settings, whanaungatanga is reflected in a care ethic, rather than in “dissassociation and unfettered self- interest, which generates an individualistic or instrumentalist view of relationships” that is ultimately unsustainable (p. 179). As with kaitiakitanga, when understood in a literal sense, whanaungatanga is grounded in whakapapa relationships. Whānau, or the family unit, provides grounds for broader expressions of kinship. If applied to internationalised HE, whanaungatanga requires attention to relationships within educational institutions that seek to internationalise. Institutional practices and processes that marginalise Māori (or indigenous) staff and students provide shaky grounds for the development of internationalisation processes and practices that reflect a genuine care ethic (Kidman & Chu, 2017; Kidman et al., 2017). At the same time, in settler colonial contexts, alliances between “ethnicised” international, indigenous and “indigenous-friendly” scholars and students can generate spaces of resistance within “predominantly white institutions” (Kidman et al., 2017, p. 1209). Some work by indigenous scholars outside Aotearoa New Zealand reflect similar ideas to whanaungatanga. As noted, Hau’ofa (1994, p. 148) conceptualises Oceania as a “sea of islands” – an island region that is connected (not divided) by the Pacific Ocean. Similarly, Sanga (2016) acknowledges the diversity of Oceania, but conceptualises its villages, islands, and nation states in terms of “woven lives” (p. 12). In his work on aid giving and receiving in Pacific contexts, Sanga calls for “a new Oceania wantok system – an animation of neighbourliness which involves living beyond private interests, positions, and passions” (p. 13). When applied to the internationalisation of HE, whanaungatanga (or a neighbourly stance) might call into question concerns with competitive advantage, aligning instead with relational commitments, generosity and hospitality (Sanga, 2016). For example, Sanga’s questions about foreign aid provision might be applied to internationalised HE: “Are we willing to be truly changed by our encounters? Or are we merely recruiting more people to our ways of seeing the world (so we can feel secure in a larger population of people like us)?” (p. 13). Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 421 Finally, manaakitanga. As discussed, within mātauranga Māori, relationships are integral to understandings of people, place and human activity (Duncan & Rewi, 2018; Royal, 2012). Both whanaungatanga and manaakitanga reflect this understanding. The root of the word manaakitanga is manaaki, a word that is usually understood as referring to care or support (Duncan & Rewi, 2018). The word can be broken down further to mana, which refers to notions of “prestige and authority” (Duncan & Rewi, 2018, p. 37). Manaakitanga can therefore be understood in terms of upholding, or attending to, the mana of another person; it is “the nurturing and fostering of relationships by the care and support shown to groups or individuals” (Duncan & Rewi, 2018, p. 36). Actions grounded in manaakitanga are aimed at recognising, strengthening and preserving relationships (Duncan & Rewi, 2018). Whanaungatanga and manaakitanga are closely connected (Kawharu & Newman, 2018); since whanaungatanga is inclusive (grounded in recognition of connection between self, other, the past and the future), it “invokes responsibilities and duties to care for kin, in its literal and figurative sense” (Kawharu & Newman, 2018, p. 54). HE literature reveals contrasting perspectives of care, for example, as pandering to students-as-consumers, or as an ethical stance for institutions that recruit and enrol students (Anderson et al., 2020). However, attention to manaakitanga would centre care at all levels in internationalised HE: including at the level of policy formulation, in the enactment of inter-national relationships, and in everyday classroom relationships. Kukutai and Rata’s (2017) discussion of manaakitanga and immigration are helpful here. They argue, Inherent in a manaakitanga system would be the recognition of mana whenua, not simply as a historical footnote, but as genuine authorities with ongoing rights to self-determination and important contributors to the contemporary cultural fabric of Aotearoa ... there can be no manaakitanga without mana. (p. 42) To Kukutai and Rata, policies and practices grounded in manaakitanga that recognises mana whenua (the right to self-determination of local indigenous people) would demonstrate “care and respect” along with a deep commitment to “take hosting responsibilities seriously” (p. 42). Such policies and practices would not require the suppression of “other” languages and cultures, or their “integration into a Eurocentric mainstream” (p. 43). Instead, they would reflect a balance between care “for existing communities within Aotearoa,” the environment, “our neighbours,” and wider “international communities” faced with shifting needs, such as forced migration, and impending climate catastrophe (p. 42). Attention to manaakitanga would problematise economic growth as a driving ethic for internationalisation or the recruitment of international students. Manaakitanga is grounded in geneological understandings that valorise relationships, between people, between generations, and between the human and non-human world (Kawharu & Newman, 2018). Similar ideas are Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 422 expressed in other Oceanic scholarship. Thaman (2002) considers how attention to past and future kinship ties requires attention to time. She argues that Oceanic understandings of time recognise “the past, present and future [as] combined within an all embracing ‘now’ in which the living and the dead (the past) are linked in a presence that is the future” (pp. 134-135). Similarly, Sanga and Reynolds (2017) argue that “in the face of the power of colonisation in the present, we benefit from walking forward by looking back carefully” (p. 200, my emphasis). A manaakitanga-informed understanding of time requires attention to the impact of past inter-national relationships on contemporary educational settings, and current inter-national arrangements on our collective futures. In practical terms, these ideas align with calls by Madge et al. (2009) in the UK context to consider questions of “responsibility and care” in relation to international students through attention to relationships both inside and outside the classroom (p. 42). These relationships include colonial entanglements that have facilitated current internationalisation arrangements, international students’ role in actively shaping global knowledge production, and future outcomes of contemporary educational relationships. Kidman et al. (2017) note that in settler colonial contexts such as Aotearoa New Zealand, questions of care are interwoven with (contested) questions of belonging: In higher education contexts, this may... translate into confusion about who is responsible for welcoming new arrivals and how best to create ongoing markers of belonging for international students in a context where the very notion of belonging is contested between indigenous and settler groups. (p. 1211) At a classroom level, manaakitanga-based teaching would refuse to represent Western knowledge as drawing on a monolithic, unified tradition that is inherently superior to others (Doherty & Singh, 2005; McAllister et al., 2019; Naepi, 2019; Takayama, 2016). This is challenging, given the dominance of the English language in academic publishing and communication internationally. However, recent scholarship on post-monolingual pedagogies offers practical insights into small steps HE teachers might take in this regard. For example, Singh and Han (2016) and Singh and Meng (2011) suggest ways of affirming multilingualism and multiple epistemic resources in higher degree research pedagogies, and Ollerhead and Baker (2020), in undergraduate university classrooms. Concluding Thoughts: Re-placing “Place” through Attention to Indigenous Perspectives In this section, we return to Royal’s (2012) questions, “Who am I? What is this world that I exist in? What am I to do?” (p. 35), in light of the values discussed in this paper: kaitiakitanga, whanaungatanga, and manaakitanga. Royal’s questions can be applied to internationalisation of HE at a range of Replacing “Place” in Internationalised Higher Education Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 423 scales. The questions “who am I?,” or “who are we?,” are questions of identity and positionality. At an institutional and personal level, they might prompt reflection on the ways in which colonial relations play out in our institutional leadership structures, student recruitment processes, and teaching interactions, for example, by affirming/dismissing particular linguistic and knowledge traditions (Kidman et al., 2017). The question “who am I?” (or “who are you?”) can also be seen as problematising neocolonial discourses and static hierarchies, for example, a view of some countries as needing development or as markets to be exploited, and so-called Western knowledge as a source of salvation or a product to be sold (Kidman et al., 2017; Sanga, 2016). In light of the value, kaitiakitanga, “who am I?” raises questions about who is involved in policy development in the area of internationalised HE – whether indigenous people’s aspirations and values are reflected in policy development, and in policy outcomes. Royal’s (2012) second question, “what is this world that I exist in?” might prompt a critical appraisal of existing HE relationships, both within and beyond individual HE institutions. With whanaungatanga in mind, we might begin by acknowledging (and working to address) the asymmetries evident in institutional staffing, particularly at leadership levels (Kidman & Chu, 2017; McAllister et al., 2019; Naepi, 2019). Any efforts to address or minimise neocolonial practices in internationalised HE must start by addressing colonial practices that pay lip-service to indigenous peoples, but actively or indirectly exclude them from decision-making roles (Kidman & Chu, 2017). At a broader scale, this question might also prompt critical reflection on the economic context in which internationalised HE occurs. With McAllister et al. (2019) and Naepi (2019), we acknowledge both the difficulty of imagining internationalised HE beyond our current economic system, and the need to do so, however, the publication of this article coincides with a global pandemic that is fundamentally changing both education provision and how internationalisation is enacted in many contexts. This rupture seems likely to necessitate new ways of imagining our economic system, and with it, the purpose of HE, at least in the medium term. Royal’s (2012, p. 35) final question is “What am I to do?”. We suggest that the values discussed in this paper, drawn from mātauranga Māori, provide a productive framework for reflection and action. Kaitiakitanga and whanaungatanga highlight the need for policy development that starts with the aspirations of indigneous people and attention to relational commitments, rather than a preoccupation with revenue generation or international rankings. Manaakitanga highlights the need for “responsibility and care” in our development of both international relationships, and our day-to-day interactions with students (Madge et al., 2009, p. 42). At the level of the classroom, teaching that reflected kaitiakitanga, whanaungatanga and manaakitanga would refuse to represent Western knowledge as drawing on a unified tradition that is inherently superior to others (Doherty & Singh, 2005; Takayama, 2016), instead, affirming students’ multilingual and multi- Vivienne Anderson & Zoë Bristowe Studies in Social Justice, Volume 14, Issue 2, 410-428, 2020 424 epistemic expertise (for example, see Ollerhead & Baker, 2020; Singh & Han, 2016; Singh & Meng, 2011). In exploring how mātauranga Māori might inform our thinking in internationalised HE, we are mindful of the risk of representing Māori perspectives as monolithic and unchanging, or Māori people as sharing one view on the world, and by implication, how internationalised HE should be (Leoni et al., 2018). We are also mindful of the risk that we may be seen as simplifying or appropriating terms that are grounded in te reo Māori and Māori cultural understandings, or in deeper webs of meaning than can be done justice in a journal article, or when translated into English (McNatty & Roa, 2002). However, with these caveats in mind, we offer this paper as a counter to “the ethnocentric and normative claims” associated with (“place-less”) representations of internationalised HE, and its “dominating commodity paradigm” (Forstorp & Mellström, 2013, p. 336). In focusing on the Aotearoa New Zealand context, we have considered how internationalisation imaginaries reflect broader understandings of the nation. While we do not presume to suggest that the ideas discussed here are necessarily translatable to other peoples and contexts, we hope that our efforts to re-imagine internationalised HE in light of values drawn from mātauranga Māori offer one “alternative thinking of alternatives” with respect to internationalised HE (Santos, 2012, p. 52). This alternative thinking is grounded in a specific historical and sociological context, which may have parallels, particularly in other white settler colonies, but is nevertheless unique. We hope that our paper inspires readers to consider how, by re-placing place in their own localities, they might ask new questions of past and present internationalisation policies and practices, and re-imagine internationalised HE in ways that inform more equitable, sustainable futures. References Altbach, P. 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