One of the wider questions arising from flooding around the takiwā is whether communities in climate-prone areas should be rebuilt at all? Photo / George Heard
OPINION
Sunken cars, deluged houses and businesses, paddocks under water.
Images from last month's flooding in Whakatū (Nelson) are still fresh in our minds.
500 homes were evacuated when the region received three times the average monthly rainfall in just five days. Thankfully, no-one died.
The kupu (word) whakatū means to build, to raise or establish.
One of the wider questions arising from flooding around the takiwā is whether communities in climate-prone areas should be rebuilt at all?
Or, should they be dis-established and moved somewhere safer?
"Managed retreat" is a term that's being used a lot in Government climate circles.
It sounds like a defeatist idea, to surrender to the weather, but is it something that experts say we may have to resort to.
Managed retreat involves moving away from intolerable risk so the negative effects of said risks don't keep happening to people year after year.
The Ministry for the Environment describes three adaptation responses to climate change hazards: protection such as sea walls; accommodating change by rebuilding more resiliently; or lastly, managed retreat.
That third and last resort comes with some huge implications for our iwi - Ngāi Tahu.
For flood-hit communities such as Westport, near where I live on Te Tai Poutini, managed retreat might make practical sense.
Sandwiched between two awa and te moana, some argue that the town must physically relocate to survive.
That's not to underestimate the heart-breaking disruption of leaving behind a house or piece of land that's been in the whānau for generations, not to mention the established network of community that comes from time spent in one place.
For our people the wrench is massive - managed retreat may involve abandoning whenua that has been occupied for centuries, land where our tīpuna are buried.
Ngāi Tahu communities in lowland and coastal areas are particularly vulnerable to climate hazards such as flooding erosion and sedimentation, which will be worsened by projected sea-level rises.
Ancient gardens, healing places, rongoā crops (medicinal plants), and other culturally important sites are located alongside rivers and coastlines prone to flooding and inundation.
Our spiritual relationship to the land, especially sites of significance such as wāhi tapu, pātaka kai (food storehouses) and urupā mean the inter-generational displacement of such a move cannot be underestimated.
An integral part of the just-launched Ngāi Tahu climate change action plan, Te Kounga Paparangi, is to identify early the places that may be most vulnerable to climate change and make plans to protect them.
This is nothing new. As Tā Tipene O'Regan has said, 'The defining characteristic of Polynesian and Māori culture historically is [the] capacity for dynamic adaptation."
Whether that means defending them, making them more resilient or, as a last measure, considering moving marae and other buildings away from harm.
The Climate Adaptation Bill is due to be introduced at the end of next year. As part of this, the Government has been consulting on adaptation approaches, such as managed retreat.
Our Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu response to the crown is one of caution around the concept of managed retreat.
The culture, identify and tikanga of Ngāi Tahu is inextricably linked to whenua, rivers and coasts. This makes retreating from or replacing this land or other features very difficult.
While managed retreat may ultimately be the only option for some areas due to factors outside human control, how and when whānau retreat must be a matter for them to determine.
We need to ensure that managed retreat processes do not impact Ngāi Tahu property rights or our rights to undertake traditional cultural practices such as mahinga kai and nohoanga.
This is particularly so for land obtained through the Ngāi Tahu Deed of Settlement and purchased for the ongoing economic and social development of Ngāi Tahu whānui.
Ngāi Tahu fought for seven generations for that settlement, and it would be terrible to see any of it lost again as part of a Crown response to climate change.
The need for a well-thought-out response grows more pressing each day, as the compounding effects of a warming planet fill our newsfeeds.
From national disasters like that in Pakistan, where a third of the country is underwater, to the localised horror of the Appalachian floods in Kentucky in the United States.
Both disasters share one thing in common: an array of climate factors that have combined with deadly effect.
In Pakistan, torrential monsoonal rain and glacial melt in the north of the country have so far claimed more than 1,200 lives.
There were dozens killed by unprecedented flash floods in Kentucky in July, which scientists believe stem from three separate climate change effects: more intense precipitation, shifting snow and rain patterns, and the effects of wildfires on the landscape.
While time is of the essence, it is essential this new legislation gives careful consideration to both the vulnerabilities and cultural sensitivities of our people as we face the biggest environmental challenge of our generation.
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