HOPEFUL REFLECTIONS

In looking to tie up this end piece, each of the four guest editors offer a short reflection as to what we personally hope for and what inspires us from what we have seen via this experience and in terms of articles which make up this special issue; here we consider also where the scholarship – theory, practice, and research  relevant to SFD is at or could be heading.

Associate Professor Rochelle Stewart-Withers Indigenous Scholar (Ngāti Rāhiri Hapū o Te Ātiawa)

Since seeding this idea back in 2019, I feel hopeful about the progress that is being made, albeit slowly, in the SFD arena, and in sport sociology and sport management journals, with an increased number of publications evident related to Indigenous peoples. While non-Indigenous or settler researchers continue to dominate research with Indigenous people, we, Indigenous peoples, are starting to see a level of reflexivity from non-Indigenous people about who is doing the research, alongside how this research is being done (e.g., see points made by Essa et al., 2022). In unpacking this point, it is partially true that non-Indigenous researchers continue to be the ones driving research with Indigenous people, but it may also be that Indigenous researchers’ contributions to SFD scholarship too often have been rendered invisible. This invisibility comes about due to publishing in languages other than English, because discoveries remain hidden in post-graduate research theses, never seeing the light of day, least of all in top-tier, A-ranked journals. Or Indigenous names, especially practitioners, end up in the acknowledgments as opposed to being listed as authors, even though the project has been highly dependent on the intellectual (cultural) insights garnered. We need to move beyond this idea whereby one’s contribution is measured by the words individually added to the page. A challenge we put to those working in the SFD arena – especially scholars – is to think beyond who seems to be doing the research or producing the knowledge (i.e., the end product). With an open mind and heart and a level of creativity, this will be less opaque.

What also inspires me is there seems to be a genuine and authentic appetite for inclusion of differing ontologies, epistemologies, methodologies, and ways of dissemination, along with an understanding that space must be made to enable this. What remains troubling, however, is that Indigenous knowledge and experiences are often only considered legitimate “as far as they are granted validity by European researchers” (Moore, 2007, as cited in Norman & Hart, 2017, p.439; see also Kincheloe & Steinberg, 2008). Which reads that Indigenous methods, Indigenous ways of producing scholarships, and disseminating knowledge are only considered legitimate as far as they are granted validity or can be explained or understood by non-Indigenous researchers. This why we need to think beyond inclusion and why Indigenization is such an important concept. It is fundamental that SFD scholarship isn’t just focused on the subject matter. What is deeply important is who is doing this work and how this work is being done.

Below, Audrey makes mention of the team projects she is involved in which we have settler and Indigenous scholars working together; if we are to take seriously the idea of working with as opposed to for Indigenous communities and indeed with each other, we will need to become comfortable with the uncomfortable, on both sides. To make this point, I draw heavily on statements  made by Norman and Hart (2017): We will need to be “accepting [of] the discomfort that comes with working across worldviews… By no means is this an easy task, but it is a responsibility that should not fall to Indigenous scholars alone” (p. 441). I would argue that for too long, Indigenous scholars have been the ones making the allowances in terms of other worldviews. This said, I agree full heartedly that Indigenous and non-Indigenous people will need to work together and, for this to be successful, Indigenous people will need to “suspend their distrust” and non-Indigenous people will need to “suspend their disbelief” (Kovach² cited in Norman & Hart, 2017, p. 442). This suspension of distrust will require work beforehand from non-Indigenous scholars to rebuild this trust, and in part this will require of non-Indigenous scholars to actively consider and practice allyship, or in the words of Whitinui (2021) to behave like an accomplice. Finlay (2020) asked the question to non-Indigenous people working with Indigenous people: “which category are you? Tokenistic? An ally? Or an accomplice?” (p. 1). I therefore ask too: Which category are you?

Professor Audrey Giles, University of Ottawa, Settler Scholar

The idea of writing about sport for reconciliation percolated within me over a number of years and emerged out of my dissatisfaction with work that I had done as a younger person. During my undergraduate degree (1997-2001), I spent numerous summers working for programs in Indigenous communities. Many of these programs used sport and recreation to intervene in the lives of Indigenous youth in some way. I felt that they were at best a form of distraction and at worse a form of unbridled racism. Early in my career as a professor, I became aware of calls to transfer the use of SFD from the Global South to the Canadian context. I was confused. Based on my knowledge, I was sure that SFD had been used as a Eurocentric weapon of assimilation against Indigenous peoples, for example, in Indian residential schools (Forsyth & Paraschak, 2013), and that it had also been used as a tool of by Indigenous peoples to express self-determination and culture, for example, in Dene games and Inuit games (Paraschak & Heine, 2020). How was this possibly a new idea? I felt very strongly that scholars, non-governmental organizations, and governments were ignoring the history of the use of sport on and in Indigenous communities.

With some talented trainees, I began writing about the existing use of SFD in the Canadian context, and some very real concerns that we had with the ways in which many non-Indigenous led programs reinscribed dominant relations of power, were deficit-based, and relied on Euro-Canadian understandings of leadership development. We were surprised to find that many SFD programs for Indigenous youth were funded by the extractives industry (mining, oil, and gas). Drs. Lyndsay Hayhurst, Steven Rynne and I, again with some talented trainees, began examining SFD as a site of “redwashing” in Canada and Australia by the extractives industry by which they “portray themselves as good corporate citizens and as members of the communities in which they operate, while obfuscating the harmful impacts of extractive practices and histories of colonialism” (Millington et al., 2019, p. 2122).

I became quite disillusioned with the concept of SFD, coming to see it mostly as a form of white supremacy with little interest in organizations using it as a tool for Indigenous peoples’ resurgence and self-determination. I began to wonder how we could perhaps get outside of this approach. Around the same time, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Canada released its finding on its investigation into the legacy of Indian residential schools. Its Commissioners released 94 Calls to Action (2015) necessary to further reconciliation in Canada. Five of these Calls to Action related to sport. It was then that we began to see many sporting events and initiatives in the Canadian context – from NHL puck drops to professional sports teams wearing orange shirts on the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation – labelled as “reconciliation.” Wanting to better understand this phenomenon and also the ways in which similar movements were occurring in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand led me to connect me to Associate Professor Stewart-Withers and Dr. Hapeta, with whom I helped to edit this special issue. Together, our research team of Indigenous and settler scholars from three countries has started examining not only sport for reconciliation but also the ways in which Sport For Reconciliation (SFR) research itself could be a form of reconciliation. This issue makes a strong contribution to research in SFD that has made me less pessimistic about its uses with Indigenous communities but still eager to investigate new approaches such as SFR.

Associate Professor Haydn Morgan, University of Bath, non-Indigenous scholar 

My personal introduction to (and interest in) Indigenous cultures came in the early 1990s, when, barely out of my teens, I travelled to Aotearoa New Zealand to play a season of cricket for a club team on Te Ika-a-Māui/the North Island (ironically the sport of cricket is perhaps the one most associated with British colonialism). While not an academic then, I soon became exposed to, and aware of, the political tensions (and indeed injustices) of colonialism between the Indigenous Māori and Settler communities. My memories of that time are ones in which the news coverage often reported compensation claims and disputes about land and seabed ownership under the Waitangi Tribunal. However, I also recall it as a time when Māori language, culture, and education were showing signs of a “re-awakening,” both through the introduction of formal legislation (e.g., the Māori Language Act of 1987 and the Education Amendment Act of 1990 which was modified to recognize wānanga as educational institutions), but also through more visible championing of Indigenous ideals in wider society.

In the ensuing three decades, during which time I have been able to reflect on Indigenous issues on subsequent visits to Aotearoa New Zealand (but mainly from afar in the UK), it has been heartening to see some undoubted progress being made. Indeed, when it comes to sustainable development, we need only look at the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (United Nations General Assembly, 2015) for a recognition of Indigenous Peoples’ rights and equality of access within the Goals (education being a major focus). However, despite this progress, policy and practice is still typically dominated by Western or Global North thinking, which often merely seeks to defend Indigenous values and rights rather than promote and advocate these as the foundation for alternative ways to address global challenges. This is still highly evident in the SFD space, and the last decade has seen various critiques of top-down projects delivered in accordance with Westernized ideals (see for example, Darnell, 2012; Guilianotti et al., 2018).

However, sport has often been used a site to challenge societal norms, and perhaps it is incumbent on us, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples, to think about how we can better promote Indigenous principles and values to meet and influence global development agendas through sport. For example, many SFD projects concern themselves with the individual development of participants, with the 5 C’s of Positive Youth Development (competence, confidence, connection, character, and caring/compassion) often utilized as a guiding framework (Lerner et al., 2005; Côté et al., 2014). However, a recent study by Hapeta et al. (2022), which examined the impact of a sport-based program that was implemented in a Youth Justice residence in Aotearoa/New Zealand, offered a critique of the 5Cs, suggesting that “connection” as a starting point, rather than “competence”, would offer a more appropriate foundation for PYD when viewed through a Kaupapa Māori lens. As the study demonstrated, a Kaupapa Māori approach cultivated clear benefits for (mainly Indigenous) program participants, however, it also presented one example of where Indigenous approaches could have broader impact for incarcerated populations across the globe who, largely, have been failed by Westernized systems of education and social care.

Of course, this is nothing new, and some influential scholars (many of whom have contributed to this issue) have long challenged Western orthodoxy. While this special issue once again brings Indigenous issues to the fore, it should also be used as a foundation to initiate clear direction on how, in the field of SFD, we might germinate theoretical directions and methodologies that not only give voice to these peoples, but also herald the worth that Indigenous values and principles may offer globally.

Dr. Jeremy Hapeta, Ngāti Raukawa te au ki te tonga, Indigenous Scholar

In the early/mid-1990s fellow Guest Editor, Dr. Haydn Morgan, and I were teammates. We played cricket together for the Manawatū-Foxton Cricket Club in the township of Te Awahou (Foxton) on the northern banks of the Manawatū River. For Haydn, it was a new chapter in his cricketing career; for me, it served as a legitimate excuse that I had used to disengage with the other “distractions” with which youth in our small, rural town decided to engage. As Haydn mentioned, neither of us were “scholars” then, but we did have a pragmatic sense of what was and was not socially just. Much of what was occurring around us, for example, was not too dissimilar to other parts of the world – a major employer in the township closed and the ensuing unemployment in our community took a huge toll on people’s livelihoods. For Haydn, it is perhaps fair to say that cricket had provided him with a livelihood, financially; while for me it provided an escape, albeit briefly, from the daily realities of being brought up by a solo-Mother who received a state-funded benefit to raise me and my younger sister. The same sport (cricket) that was also serving two totally different (cricket-plus or plus-cricket?) but intentional outcomes, nonetheless.

As I reflect upon the genesis of this special issue, I can recall the delivery of our initial “pitch” to have our ideas elevated to the front-of-mind of journal editors in order to have this work make it across the line. Ironic, don’t you think? We set off “cap-in-hand” to non-Indigenous journal editors and presented our case for “inclusion” into “their” highly-ranked journal, which was eventually (and perhaps not surprisingly) declined because their editorial board feared that, somehow, Indigenous SFD scholarship would not meet their reputable standards of research excellence. We were encouraged to preach to the choir, to try journals that had an “Indigenous-focus.” Fortunately, for us, this journal answered the call, providing us with hope and the chance to meaningfully contribute to the scholarship space.

Returning back to my roots, in the words of one of Aotearoa NZ’s most internationally recognizable reggae bands, Fat Freddy’s Drop, “Hope for a generation, [is] just beyond my reach, [but] not beyond my sight.” My hope for future generations and for the direction of Indigenous-centered research in the SFD arena is to never lose sight of hope, even if/when it feels like all is lost. Indeed, I hope this special issue gives hope to those who have been told they do not belong in the academy as their research is not “scholarly” enough. It is my desire to demonstrate that there is a place, pathway, or platform where the work of Indigenous scholars is realized by, with, and/or for Indigenous communities in ways that genuinely honor their traditions and can be disseminated in authentic ways that uplift their dignity (while simultaneously meeting scholarly conventions set by the ‘academy’). No longer just beyond our reach, but well within our sights in the academy too. In closing this special issue, I wish to also close the so-called ‘gap’ that exists ‘just beyond my reach’ to ensure that our stories become more visible, to amplify our Indigenous voices, therefore, making our stories more accessible and included.