Conservation and spiritual connections to the land

Within mainstream media in Aotearoa New Zealand, there seems to be a narrative that we are a secular country, and that religion has no place within popular discourse—it’s a thing of the past, something we have moved on from. At the same time, however, many New Zealanders maintain a spiritual connection with the land—and it is this connection, says PhD student Michaela Richards, that could be the key to improving conservation outcomes in Aotearoa.

Michaela Richards is wearing warm clothes and a backpack with snowcapped Mount Taranaki in the background.

In 2017, Taranaki Mounga—just like Te Urewera and the Whanganui Awa—was given legal personhood status. This acknowledged the mountain’s connection to iwi as an ancestor and means that harm to the mountain is legally treated the same as harm to the iwi who act as guardians.

“From a religious studies standpoint, I was interested in the spiritual and sacred language which saturated the discussions surrounding this new legislation,” Michaela says.

Michaela’s research is investigating how the government, Māori, and other community groups in the Taranaki region engage with the mountain and take part in conservation work in the area, particularly pest control. She is aiming to understand how different groups relate to the mountain and the land, and how spiritual connections with the land impact different people’s desire to take part in conservation activities and preserve the land—and whether improving or encouraging spiritual connections will motivate different groups to take more conservation action.

“Based on my research so far, it seems like people relate to the land in similar ways,” Michaela says. “Where the differences occur is how people talk about those relationships.”

Many of the Pākehā that Michaela interviewed exhibited discomfort with the idea of a spiritual connection with the land—despite clearly having one.

“Many interviewees were hesitant to engage in my work when they heard that it was in the field of religious studies, as they identified as non-religious and didn’t know what they could offer me,” Michaela says. “When I did interview them and they did engage in religious rhetoric, they would often follow up with something to diminish these statements, such as when one of my interviewees said, ‘I don’t want to sound weird or anything’.”

Despite such hesitations, it became clear that everyone engaging with the environment was doing so in a spiritual way. Generally, this occurred more naturally for Māori, but Pākehā still engaged in spiritual connections—they were just less comfortable acknowledging it.

“For many New Zealanders, our identity is tied strongly to the land—you can see this in the ‘clean, green’ branding we use. I believe that this connection to the land is more spiritual than many people are willing to admit to,” Michaela says. “I think that by finding a comfortable and appropriate way for people to acknowledge this spiritual connection, we will be able to encourage further connection with the land and inspire people to care better for the land and environment in New Zealand.”

In the Taranaki region, several Māori-led conservation initiatives are already in place, including the development of the Kaitiaki Whenua Ranger role (between DOC and iwi), and the mahi carried out by the Taranaki Mounga Project rangers. Te Ao Māori practices are also being more broadly acknowledged across Aotearoa, which is evident in the establishment of legal personhood for natural entities, the formal recognition of Matariki as a public holiday, and the embracing of te reo Māori in the public sector, Michaela says.

“Many Pākehā were more comfortable with spiritual relationships like these that didn’t necessarily involve them,” Michaela says. “However, I think if everyone can acknowledge and cultivate a spiritual connection to the land, we will all be better motivated to take care of it.”