Portacom City

The ripples the earthquake sent across the region and down the years continue to affect our lives, our livelihoods and endeavours. On 4 September 2010, a magnitude 7.1 earthquake struck 30 kilometres west of Christchurch. Half a year later, a 6.3 aftershock hit Christchurch, killing 185 people and causing widespread damage throughout the city. In November 2016, multiple faults ruptured near Kaikōura in a massive 7.8 earthquake. Paul Gorman reported on the Christchurch and Kaikōura earthquakes. In Portacom City he describes his own deeply personal story of working as a journalist during the quakes, while also speaking more broadly about the challenges that confront reporters at times of crisis.

This book critically assesses Christchurch, New Zealand as an evolving post-earthquake city. It examines the impact of the 2010–13 Canterbury earthquake sequence, employing a chronological structure to consider ‘damage and displacement’, ‘recovery and renewal’ and ‘the city in transition’. It offers a framework for understanding the multiple experiences and realities of post-earthquake recovery. It details how the rebuilding of the city has occurred and examines what has arisen in the context of an unprecedented opportunity to refashion land uses and social experience from the ground up. A recurring tension is observed between the desire and tendency of some to reproduce previous urban orthodoxies and the experimental efforts of others to fashion new cultures of progressive place-making and attention to the more-than-human city. The book offers several lessons for understanding disaster recovery in cities. It illuminates the opportunities disasters create for both the reassertion of the familiar and the emergence of the new; highlights the divergence of lived experience during recovery; and considers the extent to which a post-disaster city is prepared for likely climate futures. The book will be valuable reading for critical disaster researchers as well as geographers, sociologists, urban planners and policy makers interested in disaster recovery.

‘I am 29 years old. I was born just before the Kyoto Protocol was signed, and since then global mean temperatures have risen by an estimated 0.2°C per decade . . . in my lifetime I am likely to experience a world that is 2°C warmer, perhaps as much as 4°C, and has more droughts, fires and floods.’ Sylvia Nissen Climate crisis is upon us. By choice or necessity, New Zealand will transition to a low-emissions future. But can this revolution be careful? Can it be attentive to the disruptions it inevitably creates? Or will carefulness simply delay and dilute the changes that future people require of us? This timely collection brings together eleven authors to explore the politics and practicalities of the low-emissions transition, touching on issues of justice, tikanga, trade-offs, finance, futurism, adaptation, and more.

A lack of knowledge about the world can be a very dangerous thing. In the age of Trump, fake news and clickbait headlines, it is easy to despair about the future of journalism. The New Zealand and global media are in upheaval: the old economic models for print journalism are failing, public funding has been neglected for decades, and many major news organisations are shedding journalists. New Zealander Mel Bunce researches and teaches journalism at the acclaimed Department of Journalism at City, University of London. Drawing upon the latest international research, Bunce provides a fresh analysis that goes beyond the usual anecdote and conjecture. Insightful and impassioned, this short book provides a much-needed assessment of the future for New Zealand journalism in a troubled world.

It was not long ago that students were dismissed as apathetic. Yet, today, a new generation of young political actors is making waves in New Zealand and around the world. What explains this apparent shift and what is driving these new forms of youth­ful political engagement and expression? Exploring the terrain between activism and apathy, Sylvia Nissen considers what it means to be a political actor from the perspective of students today. Drawing on in­-depth interviews with New Zealand tertiary students, she traces their ‘desires’ for different types of politics, the ‘demands’ they experience at university, and the ‘doubts’ that underscore their political engagement.

By avoiding planes for a year, I found that I had cut my carbon dioxide emissions from travel to just over 1 tonne. This was a reduction of 95 per cent from my 2017 carbon footprint from travel. It felt good. What happens when a leading New Zealand scientist (and frequent traveller) rules out flying for a year? From overnight buses to epic train journeys, Shaun Hendy’s experiences speak to our desire to do something – anything – in the face of growing climate anxiety. #NoFly confronts the hard questions of one person’s attempt ‘to adapt’. Was this initiative merely symbolic? Did it compromise his work, his life? And has it left him feeling more optimistic that we can, indeed, reach a low-emissions future?

Parihaka was a place and an event that could be lost and found, over and over. It moved into view, then disappeared, just like the mountain. In 1881, over 1,500 colonial troops invaded the village of Parihaka near the Taranaki coast. Many people were expelled, buildings destroyed, and chiefs Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kākahi were jailed. In this BWB Text, Rachel Buchanan tells her own, deeply personal story of Parihaka. Beginning with the death of her father, a man with affiliations to many of Taranaki’s eight iwi, she describes her connection to Taranaki, the land and mountain; and the impact of confiscation. Buchanan discusses the apologies and settlements that have taken place since te pāhuatanga, the invasion of Parihaka.

An understanding of the ways of our tūpuna, coupled with the best of new thinking from New Zealand and abroad, has significant potential for sustainable housing models. Colonial settlement and the discriminatory policies of successive governments have challenged Māori connections to whenua and kāinga. Today, home ownership rates for Māori are well below the national average and Māori are over-represented in the statistics of substandard housing. Rebuilding the Kāinga charts the recent resurgence of contemporary papakāinga on whenua Māori. Reframing Māori housing as a Treaty issue, Kake envisions a future where Māori are supported to build businesses and affordable homes on whānau, hapū or Treaty settlement lands. The implications of this approach, Kake writes, are transformative.