Standing Firm to Move Forward: Reclaiming the Heart of Indigenous Evaluation

By Dr. Fiona Cram | CREA VIII Conference Keynote Reflection | April 2025

In April 2025, I had the honour of delivering a keynote at the CREA VIII Conference in Chicago, themed Relational Responsibilities in Culturally Responsive Evaluation and Assessment. I stood before an audience of global evaluators, researchers, and community advocates to speak not only about Indigenous evaluation—but from it. My keynote, “Standing Firm to Move Forward,” was a weaving together of our histories, our grief, our resilience, and our responsibilities.
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At its heart, Indigenous evaluation is about relationships. It begins not with methods or indicators, but with identity and place—where we stand, who we stand with, and why we do this work. For Māori, this is our whakapapa (genealogy), our whenua (Land), and our kaupapa (agenda). Across Turtle Island, Latin America, Africa, the Pacific and beyond, Indigenous evaluators hold similar truths: that evaluation must emerge from our values, our languages, and our collective aspirations.

​Grounding in Place and History

I opened by inviting everyone to introduce themselves to a neighbour and share where they felt most at home on the land. This was an act of whanaungatanga—establishing relationships, grounding ourselves in our own stories of place and belonging. Evaluation, when rooted in Indigenous worldviews, is inseparable from our connections to land, history, and people. Place is not simply geography. It is kin. The land carries scars of colonisation and resistance, just as we do. In his work Towards Scarring, Cash Ahenakew reminds us that the land remembers, that scars are not just signs of pain but of survival. In this way, land teaches us how to stand firm, how to heal, and how to move forward with dignity and purpose.

Navigating the Currents of Global Grief

This brings us to our first key evaluation question: Why is this initiative needed? Not just from a funder's perspective, but from the perspectives of those most affected. Whose pain are we addressing? Whose healing are we honouring?

We are living in a time of deep, visible global grief. From Gaza to West Papua, from the Sahel to Standing Rock, Indigenous and oppressed communities are experiencing the compounding forces of colonisation, war, ecological collapse, and displacement. These are not isolated crises. They are braided together—roots sunk deep into the violence of empire. As evaluators, we cannot look away. Ibrahim Kamara’s short film “How philanthropists are destroying African farms” (The Guardian, 2024) reminds us: We are not drowning. We are being flooded. Flooded by histories that have been dammed and diverted. As Ahenakew puts it, sacred pain is our refusal to look away. Evaluation must also refuse detachment. It must bear witness, recognise grief, and seek justice—not just outcomes.

​Indigenous Evaluation as an Act of Care

The second key question--How is this initiative being implemented?—often sounds procedural. But in Indigenous evaluation, it is profoundly relational. Implementation does not begin with a contract. It begins with whakapapa, with history, with place, and with aroha—love for our people.

Evaluation, in our hands, is not extractive. It is not just observation. It is ceremony. It is care. When I reflect on Māori concepts like manaakitanga (hospitality), whanaungatanga (kinship), and tikanga (cultural protocols), I see a different pathway forward—one in which evaluation becomes an extension of our responsibilities to one another, not a technical imposition. One powerful example of this was Te Oho Ake, a youth wānanga at Ruataniwha Marae in Wairoa. Over five days, rangatahi became evaluators—not of a programme, but of their own transformation. They climbed their ancestral mountain, shared stories, built trust. Evaluation was not a separate task. It was lived. It was relational. It was whānau (family)-held. This is what evaluation can be when it is led by those it seeks to serve.

​Whose Outcomes? Whose Impact?

The third evaluation question--What are the outcomes and impacts?—requires us to go deeper. Whose wellbeing are we measuring? What version of a “good life” are we using? As the late Manuka Henare taught, true wellbeing is grounded in mana, whakapapa, and collective flourishing—not material wealth. Inspired by his work and Amartya Sen’s capabilities approach, we ask: Did this initiative uplift mana (prestige)? Did it strengthen our relationships with Land, spirit, and each other? This is what I call ontological justice—not just equity in services or access, but the right to define and pursue wellbeing on our own terms. In this way, evaluation becomes a tool of self-determination, not surveillance. It affirms who we are, not just what we do.

He Awa Whiria – Braided Rivers, Braided Worlds

To walk between Indigenous and Western paradigms, I turn to He Awa Whiria—the braided rivers model. Just like the alluvial rivers of Aotearoa New Zealand, knowledge systems can run side by side: distinct, but interconnected. Our HPV self-testing project with Māori women demonstrated how relational, community-led research can inform large-scale scientific innovation. Our braided river began with elders, researchers, whānau, and community experts. Together, we designed a study, analysed findings, and translated them into action—culminating in a nationwide health policy shift. The river metaphor reminds us that evaluation is a journey. It requires trust. It requires pausing. It requires humility. From whanaungatanga (relationships), to kaupapa (planning), to mahi (doing)—we evaluate as we live: together, on purpose.

The Wolastoq Declaration and the Future of Indigenous Evaluation

In 2024, EvalIndigenous helped convene a global gathering in Fredericton, on the Lands of the Wolastoqiyik people. What emerged was not just a declaration—it was a collective affirmation of our sacred responsibilities as Indigenous evaluators. The Wolastoq Declaration asserts three principles:

1. Honour Indigenous Rights
2. Protect Knowledge Sovereignty
3. Mobilise Traditional Paradigms

We are not seeking inclusion into colonial systems. We are asserting our own frameworks—ones that honour the Land as relative, not resource; evaluation as guardianship, not audit.

Conclusion: Stand Firm, Paddle Forward

I closed my talk with a waiata (song):
Mā wai rā e taurima / Te marae i waho nei? / Mā te tika, mā te pono / Me te aroha e.
Who will tend to the marae here? / Truth, honesty, and love will.

​In these times of turbulence, evaluation can be an anchor—or it can be a rudder. When grounded in truth, in love, and in our obligations to place and people, it becomes both. To my fellow evaluators: stand firm in your place. Paddle together. And always, always let the land show you how to move forward.