Introduction

Without being unduly negative, the outlook for food security for much of the world’s population by 2050, on the face of it, is desolate. (Perry, 2016, p. 129)

Concerns over the organising of food are widespread (Perry, 2016), resulting in a general decline in trust over food production (Renting et al., 2003). Unsustainable, unsafe, sometimes even fraudulent production practices, negative health and environmental outcomes persist, in part because of the scale and complexity of organising (Böhm et al., 2019; Elmes, 2018; Pollan, 2008; Zuo et al., 2017). These concerns are made more visible through our current climate catastrophes, supply chain disruptions and the loss of biodiversity, highlighting a system in crisis (Beacham, 2018, 2022; Ergene et al., 2021).

Such fragilities are partly an outcome of the capitalist paradigm that functions through its extractive ‘use’ of resources that privilege wealth creation over planetary flourishing, care and well-being. Clark et al. (2021) argue that a major barrier to food security is that it favours economic imperatives over health, culture and ecological sustainability. The FAO (2019, p. xxxviii) concur that “the foundations of our food systems are being undermined, often, at least in part, because of the impact of management practices and land-use changes associated with food and agriculture”. The organising of food is increasingly a product of global capitalism organised through hierarchical structures that are driven by commodified efficiency and organisational profits (Carolan, 2015; Dowler et al., 2010), somewhat disconnected from the broader entangled web of life within which it resides (Dowler et al., 2010; Moore, 2015). To counter this, a deeper ecological engagement with the living system is seen as an alternative response for organising food systems. An ecological engagement is about “restoring and creating liveable ecologies for all” (Ergene et al., 2021, p. 1325), through life-sustaining meshed webs of relations that include the health and well-being of humans, animals, mountains, rivers, the sky, carbon and indeed the larger cosmological whole (Ehrnström-Fuentes, 2022). Driving these entanglements and connections are the unfolding practices and flows that produce these relations (Ergene et al., 2021; Ergene & Calás, 2023; Pavlovich 2021) that increasingly contain ‘care’. Indeed, Beacham (2018) claims that relationality—the interdependence of all things—is essential to care in that it is intricately connected in reproducing ‘the social.’ Every action is thus in negotiation with the existence of others reinforcing the interdependency and relational aspects of organising that are reproduced through care.

The aim of this paper is to enrich an understanding of a relational worldview that includes the more-than-human to develop a conceptual theory of organising within food systems based upon ‘ecologies of care.’ The role of care as an organising mechanism in connecting food systems has had little examination and yet, as Beachem (2018) and Thelen (2015) suggest, relations originate through the notion of care. The research question guiding this study is “how may care assist in organising relational food systems? We draw on the concept of care ecologies that may shift a paradigm from one that encourages the commodification of food (Carolan, 2015) to one that creates a food system that prioritises the social, ethical, ecological and even spiritual relations that are meshed and embedded in a living system. In developing the ecologies of care theoretical framework, parallels are made with specific Aotearoa New Zealand Māori indigenous concepts as ‘touchpoints’, highlighting principles of relationships (whanaungatanga), stewardship (kaitiakitanga), and support (manaakitanga) to examine how the organisation of food can be relationally embedded through care. Our intention is not to examine indigenous approaches to food organising, but to draw parallels with a Māori worldview, stemming from one of the author’s experience. We particularly chose to examine a Māori worldview as Aotearoa New Zealand is a nation endeavouring to become a bi-cultural society and thus such issues related to the organising of food systems are current.

The following section has three parts. First, it explains the significance of a relational worldview and lays the foundation for the ecologies of care theory. This approach acknowledges that relational systems are complex webs of entanglements and thus require different understandings than the economic view regarding how systems are organised (Banerjee & Arjaliès, 2021; Bruton et al., 2022; Doh et al., 2019; Pavlovich et al., 2021). Indeed, Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021, p. 10) further clarify, “the point is not whether the plants sing in a different key but that there is another sphere of knowledge with a deeper and more intimate way of knowing that is different from the knowledge produced in a laboratory”. Second, the paper explores the concept of care, arguing that it has collective and ecological qualities. Finally, this section turns to describing an indigenous Māori worldview before it turns to the section that presents the ecologies of care theory.

A Relational Worldview of Organising

While there is little disagreement that positivist typologies and categorisations have contributed to the well-being of society, they have resulted in an extractive economy where resources are ‘used’ for the accumulation of capital for investors and shareholders (Carolan, 2015). The prioritisation of selective resources stymies the synergies and complementarities that exist in a relational world resulting in a disconnection that impacts on the overall health and well-being of the system. For example, the illegal dumping of toxic chemicals in food ‘protected designation of origin’ (PDO) areas in Italy (the Land of Fires) was followed by excessively high cancer rates (Cembalo et al, 2019). This extractive worldview has therefore largely disregarded the relational qualities that underpin holistic systems (Overton & Lerner, 2014).

Scholars are now challenging this rational economic approach to organising, acknowledging that humans are not the centre of the universe and that organising is not based entirely on the exchange of capital (e.g. Banerjee & Arjaliès, 2021; Doh et al., 2019; Ehrnström-Fuentes & Böhm, 2023). Of particular concern is that an extractive economy does not acknowledge the broader holistic system within which organisations reside, and that other sentient beings need to be acknowledged as part of the web of life (Ehrnström-Fuentes & Böhm, 2023; Stenn, 2022). Indeed, Ehrnström-Fuentes (2022) argues for the inclusion of the spirits of the mountains, the seas and even the waterfalls and their related reciprocal relationships. Humans are embedded in an interconnected dynamic universe where the human and the more-than-human co-exist in an entangled web of relationships (Berry, 1999).

A relational worldview challenges the dominant economic paradigm. Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021, p. 16) posit that a relational worldview is “fundamentally animated and spiritual, immersed in a life force that transcends time, human and nonhumans”. This is significantly different to an extractive economy that disregards that which is not useful for the accumulation of capital. Rather a relational worldview is animated and spiritual, and acknowledges a life force that is dynamic, relational and connected beyond the self. Underlying this is an acceptance of the quality and existential nature of those relationships that unfold with others. Berry (1999, p. 4) explains:

There is a single integral community of the earth that includes all its component members whether human or other than human. In this community every being has its role to fulfil, its own dignity, its inner spontaneity. . . Every being enters into communion with other beings. This capacity for relatedness, for presence to other beings, for spontaneity in action, is a capacity possessed by every mode of being throughout the universe.

Similarly, Merleau-Ponty (1964, p. 138) concurs that relationships are always entangled and interdependent, as they call upon the observer to always be in relation to others, through a “reciprocal insertion and intertwining” of others in oneself and of oneself in others. Thus, we argue that a more thoughtful approach is required in the study of food organising; an awareness of how organisms relate to each other and to their environment through lived experience (Carolan, 2015), in order that the systems are nurtured and flourish for all. We posit that a relational worldview facilitates a deeper connection to the living system, not from a local food network perspective that links producers and consumers together spatially (Albrecht & Smithers, 2018), but from a living system perspective that goes beyond spatial, categories and dimensional boundaries. We argue that care as a reciprocal exchange between the known and unknown can facilitate this process.

Conceptualising ‘Care’

In this research, we develop the notion of ‘care’ as an essential ethic in relational organising (Thelen, 2015). Much of the research on care builds on Nodding’s seminal notion of an ethic of care, demonstrating feelings of concern, responsibility and affection, as well as the work of attending to a person’s needs” (Cancian & Oliker, 2000, p. 2). Thus, care includes hope and compassion as well as attending to the needs of others. These moral attitudes are the foundation of an ‘ethic of care’ which, Noddings (2013) argues, is a basic condition underlying all moral reasoning and action. The focus on individual and interpersonal engagement is an active relationship that results in enhancing the other’s well-being (Gilligan, 2011).

However, as Parsons et al., (2021, p. 794) critique, “researchers have used the ethics of care concept to focus on the caring for vulnerable others… and on giving centrality to the affective component”. In this paper, we argue that this notion of care limits its application to dyadic and generally affective relationships rather than care within the existential web of relationships. By including the more-than-human, we suggest that what is missing from the ‘care’ context, especially in relation to organising, is care as an ecological consideration within an interdependent existential living system. Taylor et al. (2015) suggest that such an approach should go beyond the human and centre on how the specifics of a situation are embodied and related to larger contexts: care for materials, care for spaces and places, as well as care for humans. Yet, Taylor et al.’s study remains focused on what Beacham (2018) calls a productivist ethic that aims for quantity in food production, rather than providing for a notion of care that embraces the complexity and multiple aspects of meshed organising. Similarly, feminist approaches of care frequently note the importance of the more-than-human, but continue to focus on affective relationships (e.g. Phillips, 2019). Beacham extends our understanding in that “the ethos of ‘food for us and food for nature’ recognises the interdependency of all beings and sees the task of growing food not as a rational manipulation of natural forces for solely human ends but as an engagement within a vibrant living world” (p. 8). Puig de la Bellacasa (2010) too reminds us that in understanding care, humans should not be considered as the masters of care provision, but rather as part of earth’s living system, acknowledging a life force that is dynamic, relational and connected beyond the self. That is, the earth and its constituents play a role in developing a flourishing system that provides support and enhances a sense of being within an interdependent meshed web (Pavlovich et al., 2021).

Care from an ecological perspective shifts the focus from ‘things’ as evident in the extractive paradigm to webs of relations as flows. Cooper (2006, p. 1689) calls organising that draws on things and instrumentality an institutional focus that “may make it easier for us to grasp reality but also hide its underlying complexities”, as it assumes things have individual properties by themselves rather always being in-relation-to. Indeed, quantum physicist Heisenberg (1990, p. 219) posits that there is “a central spiritual order of things” that is overlooked when focusing primarily on examining the parts as separate from the whole. Indigenous traditions have different understandings, such as shamans who can enter into other realms for, for example, healing as they move between the material and spiritual (Kuokkanen, 2000). Similarly, Stenn (2022) describes how Andean spirituality is intertwined with the harvest. They thank the Pachamama for looking over the plants. “You have to feed the mother, so she feeds you” (Stenn, 2022, p. 316), and how “suerte” luck can be generated through reverence of the gods, ancestors and physical world. Both examples acknowledge the more-than-human and the role that care has in the organising of relational food systems.

Our approach to care includes an understanding of otherness: that there is no ‘other’ as in a world of Cartesian separation, but rather life is relational, interdependent and enhancing. Moving beyond a world of duality, Cunliffe and Pavlovich (2022) claim that we are always embedded within—and co-creating with—the other through our social, material and non-material worlds as we talk, interact, and engage with all that is around us. McEwan and Goodman (2010, p. 103) expand this concept in an ecological sense, arguing that scholars and practitioners need to think about our responsibilities towards “unseen others”. They argue to shift the focus of inquiry from a solely dyadic relationship to our responsibilities as collective actors. Care as a dyadic relationship is also critiqued by Dahlberg et al. (2016) who explain ecological care as an ecological rhythm within an existential web of relations. They argue that in seeing care as rhythm, it provides a platform for going beyond duality. This attends to Thelen’s (2015, p. 508) critique of care in that it should not be seen as a duality, “a narrow focus on either giving or receiving care”. Rather, she argues, care should be seen to involve “both ‘sides’ as equal contributors to the construction of need and responsibility”, and thus a social enabler.

Central to care, is that it organises beyond affective practices. It includes the more-than-human and thus critiques care as a duality. Thelen (2015, p. 505) concurs that “care processes centre around creating, maintaining and dissolving significant ties, which ultimately aggregate to larger social formations”. At an aggregated level, relational practices with their focus on flow have the ability to (re)make social order through placing care at the centre of creating, maintaining and dissolving of relationships. As Ingold (2012) comments,

Production, then, is a process of correspondence: not the imposition of preconceived form on raw material substance, but the drawing out or bringing forth of potentials immanent in a world of becoming (p. 435).

This notion of production as ‘correspondence’ has parallels with relational exchange and care, again highlighting it as an originator of social organisation, not a consequence. In using the term correspondence, Ingold acknowledges the importance of exchange rather than form and how collective care includes the unseen ‘other’ (McEwan & Goodman, 2010). Our focus now turns to an indigenous perspective of organising to explore touchpoints of similarity.

A Māori Worldview

As noted earlier, we draw on indigenous research to provide ‘touchpoints’ between existing western conceptualisations and Māori perspectives to create the ecologies of care conceptual framework. In doing so, we also acknowledge that direct translations between western and indigenous perspectives are not always possible (Haar et al., 2019; Ruwhiu & Elkin, 2016), but may provide different ways of seeing the world. The following provides a short description of a Māori worldview with respect to land, people and food.

From a Māori worldview, all life comes from Papatūānuku (mother earth) and whenua (the land) is said to nourish mother earth. Tāngata whenua (people of this land—Māori) locate themselves within the land—mountains, rivers, lakes and oceans—not as owners but as a method, a genealogy, being part of and belonging to the land, and being custodians for future generations. As such, the process of understanding one’s whakapapa (ancestors going back to mother earth and back to the land) is knowledge about where tāngata whenua (people) come from. It includes ancestors, and explains the origins of fish, birds, people, rocks and all other aspects of our world, including the spiritual. In its literal translation whakapapa means to place layers one upon another (Mead, 2016). In a genealogical sense, it provides a framework for an understanding of historical descent, pattern and linkages, whereby everything, animate and inanimate, is connected together into a single family tree (Roberts & Wills, 1998). For Māori, understanding one’s whakapapa—the layering of time and connections—from earth’s creation, to living people and places, ensures people continue to understand and recall their sense of who they are and how they belong to ancestors and the land. Connecting to one’s whakapapa (ancestors going back to mother earth (Papatūānuku) is the first locale of understanding oneself –not as a single ‘self’ entity—but as a collection of ones’ history, ancestors, place and time. Thus, from an indigenous perspective, understanding that the ‘self’ is a collective (of ancestors and ecology) enables caring for and knowing of the other. It transcends our understandings of land as an agricultural space and locates it as a connection with the sacredness of all life (Huambachano, 2018).

Three Māori values provide touchpoints (Haar et al., 2019; Ruwhiu & Elkin, 2016) with western views in understanding ecologies of care: whanaungatanga—sharing a touchpoint with interconnected webs of relationships; kaitiakitanga—sharing a touchpoint with governance and stewardship; and manaakitanga—sharing a touchpoint with supporting others. The concept of touchpoints is used in this paper to understand kaupapa Māori values (Māori cultural values) that relate to similar (but not necessarily identical) western concepts, while remaining true to Māori values. Throughout colonisation, cultural assimilation, periods of turmoil and cultural disturbance, the values of whanaungatanga, kaitiakitanga and manaakitanga have remained salient and aided the protection and safeguarding of Māori culture (tikanga).

Ecologies of Care

In the following section, we explain in detail the three principles that build ecologies of care as a process for deeper engagement within living systems: relationships (whanaungatanga), stewardship (kaitiakitanga) and support (manaakitanga). In developing our conceptual theory for organising food, we recognise the material, non-material and relational considerations that exist in a living system of interdependency. In this section, we begin the discussion of each of these principles within the ecologies of care framework from a western perspective; we then provide an example and then finally expand this understanding from a Māori worldview.

Relationships and Whanaungatanga

All of life is relational, and connection within the food system is dependent on relationships. Thus, the first thread in ecologies of care is relationships that reside within an existential web that includes humans, organisms, the environment, sentient beings known and unknown and even energy itself. Our interactions are always in relation with others: other people, communities, histories, language, culture and environment (Cunliffe & Pavlovich, 2022.) These relationships are based upon symbiotic partnerships, not on an extractive ‘use’ of resources that are targeted for economic gain. Rather, ecologies of care require an awareness of the interdependence of relational engagement that involves “actively connecting with the more than human, rather than simply seeing connection” for instrumental purposes (Gibson-Graham, 2011, p. 2). This is evident in the personal communication below that illustrates how food is not simply a product but involves a process of interdependent activity. Thus, for food producers, from an ecological perspective, these practices can become places of relationship, not places of control, and highlight the interweaving and meshing of all relationships as layers upon layers; actively connecting with the more than human (Gibson-Graham, 2011). This complexity of relationship within food systems is demonstrated in the comment below from a biodynamic farmer. She explains,

I like that I’m working with the rhythm of nature so that each day there are forces from the cosmic planetary world that influence the plant - whether it’s the flower, whether it’s the seed, whether it’s the root - so those planetary forces have an influence on the plants. I like to feel like I’m always working with that rhythm because we’re rhythm. It’s like working with our own microcosm and us with the macrocosm. That sits well with me (personal communication with a biodynamic grower).

This quote illustrates not only the importance of the more-than-human, but also how this grower engages with the rhythm of nature—both its movement and its rest (Dahlberg et al., 2016). She acknowledges the form—seeds, plants, flowers—and importantly, the cosmic rhythms that bestow the ‘correspondence’ of the living system (Ingold, 2012). She notes the healing aspects of the plants and the reciprocal exchanges that are occurring. This care is deeper than duality and illustrates how these collective relationships are central to our ecologies of care theory as organising begins with social relationship, whether seen or unseen. The quote also reminds us of the flow and movement among relationships—both the seen and the unseen—whereby all of life is set within an “entangled, interconnected and indeterminate shared existence” (Pavlovich, 2020, p. 333).

This focus on relationships is witnessed in the Māori worldview of whanaungatanga. In the Māori worldview, whanaungatanga contributes towards a sense of belonging, as it strengthens responsibilities and caring through shared connections and bonds. This understanding of relationships extends to the processes of whanaungatanga that involves ‘knowing’ others as a collective self, illustrating how a responsibility of care is more than dyadic (McEwan & Goodman, 2010). Three central themes are drawn together: whaka (to cause something to happen in a direction), whānau (the closeness of bonds often akin to those family and close connections) and tanga (active-action). Whanaungatanga therefore reinforces the commitment, connection, and obligations that we have to the collective, highlighting how care is a collective responsibility. Whanaungatanga explains how organising can occur through the weaving of relationships that embrace a concern for the collective that goes beyond human and material connections. It acknowledges the care that resides in the spiritual, cosmic, human and natural worlds that organise through the deepening of exchange as correspondence (Ingold, 2012), evident in the personal communication noted above.

Whanaungatanga, as a customary Māori practice, also strengthens relationships and embeds responsibilities within whānau (family). Food (kai) plays an important role as it is given from one whanau to another as a sign of peace and solidarity. For example, if there is tension between two families or tribes (iwi), a meeting is held, and food would be offered with the intention of bringing people together. Whanaungatanga also conveys the close connection between people/ kinship (Deane et al., 2019, p. 3) and “attaining and maintaining” relationships. Food plays an essential part of a pōwhiri (cultural greeting in which visitors are welcomed onto a marae—meeting house). At the end of a pōwhiri, the manuhiri (visitors) and the mana whenua (the people associated with that territory) complete the act of coming together and unite through food. Further, karakia (a blessing and prayer) is used to cleanse food and to acknowledge those who grow and prepare it. This blessing acts as an important function to create a sense of togetherness for the parties meeting. In this way, McKerchar et al. (2015) notes that food serves as a method, in these customs, to acknowledge past and future generations.

We thus suggest that whanaungatanga has a ‘touchpoint’ (Ruwhiu & Elkin, 2016) with the western concept of relationships in the deepening of connection within food systems. Both acknowledge the importance of connection at a system level, both accept the more-than-human in the organising framework, and both include dimensions of past, present and future. Whanaungatanga comes from a place of the collective, with responsibilities towards the ‘unseen other.’ In this way, whanaungatanga provides deeper insights into how the past and future can be embedded into relationships, along with acknowledging the correspondence (Ingold, 2012) that occurs with the more-than-human as part of a collective self. Relationships are dependent on care and responsibility to the other and thus reinforce Thelen’s (2015) call that care is an organising mechanism at an aggregated level.

Stewardship and Kaitiakitanga

The concept of stewardship comes to the fore in our conceptualisation of ecologies of care as a consequence of the interdependence of all living systems, of constantly being in relationship and of the responsibility and commitment to others. Taking care of the whole system critiques the capitalist notions of an extractive economy, where only selected resources are taken care of. Rather, as Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021) remind us, there are symbiotic relationships throughout nature; for instance, between the soil, fungi and plants and that they communicate through their root systems—that is, they correspond. Banerjee and Arjaliès continue that “this does not imply a unified, agentic and goal-driven system but simply that everything is connected to and interacts with everything else (p. 9)”. Yet our understandings of the symbiotic nature of planetary relationships and its importance in the creation of stewardship is limited. For instance, Romolini et al., (2016, p. 3) define stewardship as “practices that conserve, manage, care for, monitor, advocate for and educate the public about environments”. This definition continues to replicate a productivist paradigm and offers limited insights into the need to care for and be in partnerships with the collective world rather than privileging human involvement in the transformation of food systems. An awareness of interdependence is important in developing an ecological approach to food production and can play a significant role if the growing apprehension regarding the increasing instability of our food systems and ecology is to be addressed, as evidenced by plummeting insect numbers and soil degradation (Carrington, 2019; Lawrence, 2019)—among other transgressions clearly evident in the current overshooting of several planetary boundaries. As noted by a regenerative farmer,

Stewardship is about taking care of the whole ecological system for future generations. So, for me it is about seed preservation and saving, taking care of our soils, waterways, forests, bird life, insect life, animals… all of which make up a living system. And we’re part of that system too, although we are still putting too much of ourselves into it, so there is too much hierarchy and it’s us that dominates. We need to let nature take the lead (personal communication with a regenerative farmer).

This comment reiterates the importance of a long-term view and that our role as custodians is to nurture nature and safeguard the earth for future generations. It acknowledges the living system and the more-than-human that reside within ecologies of care as symbiotic exchange relationships.

Stewardship from the Māori perspective of kaitiakitanga offers insights into how care can strengthen the collective. Drawing on whanaungatanga and the importance of relationships, kaitiakitanga is about being a custodian—as a group or a person—that cares and looks after Papatūānuku (mother earth), as noted in the comment above. While ‘tiaki’ on its own means conserving, nurturing, protecting and watching over, tanga means to do so in active form. Kaitiakitanga therefore broadly refers to active protection and care of all that Māori belong to, and guardianship of this for future generations. This ensures future generations are able to whakapapa back to the land and ancestors. As such, kaitiakitanga has an important temporal meaning that links past, present and future not acknowledged in Romolini et al.’s (2016) definition earlier. Spiller et al. (2011) suggest that kaitiakitanga emphasises the guardianship and protection necessary in an awareness of the interconnectedness of life in a ‘woven universe,’ highlighting the importance of relationships and care that provide the foundation of our conceptual framework in the organising of food systems. A practical example of this is the stewardship of fisheries. While New Zealand has one of the largest Exclusive Economic fishing Zones (EEZ) in the world, Māori have developed additional custodial rights through the Māori Fisheries Act 2004 (New Zealand) that enables iwi (tribes) to be involved in the management of the seafood resources in their rohe moana (coastal area). Under the Act, tangata tiaki (guardians nominated by iwi) can authorise seafood to be taken for the purpose of events at the marae (meeting house—for example, pōwhiri) and can also apply to have rights to rehabilitate fish stocks if they see them being depleted. The latter is an important practice in the conversation and stewardship of fisheries. The intention is to prolong, replenish, and ensure there is care when gathering resources from such ecosystems and to ensure kaitiakitanga guides future generations.

Kaitiakitanga thus refers to the need for a sustainable, long-term orientation in relation to guardianship and protection of food, the land and all sentient beings, including humans. For Māori, environmental preservation is paramount—as a way of honouring past generations—and as custodians of care and protection now, and for the collective future (Spiller et al., 2020). Central to kaitiakitanga, then, is the preservation, conservation, repair and connection with the environment for present and future generations. The fisheries example illustrates stewardship beyond economic outcomes and is focused on the more-than-human for protecting future generations. Indigenous approaches focus on the impacts over generations and highlight the significance of protection in balancing this—an often forgotten fabric of organising from western perspectives. This understanding also draws on Ingold’s (2012) notion of correspondence, as exchanges occur beyond time and space and become central to protecting the past and future. Thus, as kaitiakitanga has a number of meanings and understandings, we suggest Kaitiakitanga expands and deepens our understanding of the western concept of stewardship.

Support and Manaakitanga

As noted earlier, much of the research on care and support is from a productivist perspective and does not account for the interdependence a relational approach may bring, despite its focus on enhancing others’ well-being (Gilligan, 2011). We are reminded of Puig de la Bellacasa’s (2010) observation that we are all part of the earth’s symbiotic living system. In western societies, support is evident as care in the way animals are farmed and plants are grown. For instance, when making cheese, the quality of milk is a consequence of how the animals are farmed—how the animals are looked after, how the soil is managed, the type of fertiliser that is used, the grasses that are grown etc. Similarly, communities come together to support each other in times of crises (such as in climate-related events), particularly important in rural agricultural regions. Such support is necessary for well-being, involving humans and the more-than-human. Nevertheless, western perspectives of support generally focus on physical actions.

The following comment is from a permaculture farmer, illustrating the interdependent nature of relationships that can ebb and flow based upon seasons and locations.

It’s about nourishing for flourishing. We live in a living system so everything has to be taken care of; everything has a unique role in the way it supports and nourishes the system. When I’m working with the land or working with a seed or planting, I always put an intent of nurturing into it. I’m constantly communicating with them whether it’s physical, verbal, or just an intention. The key is to nourish and support (personal communication with a permaculture grower).

This comment demonstrates interaction and relations with the more-than-human as a living system. This goes beyond support for animals and acknowledges the more-than-human through relationships that are based upon care and intention.

The Māori concept of manaakitanga extends our understanding of support and care in the way that interactions enact respect, generosity, and care for others as a collective self, doing the right thing for them, and ensuring their well-being (Ruru et al., 2017; Ruwhiu & Elkin, 2016). Manaakitanga encompasses the quality of caring practices, of hospitality, and showing respect and support to others as connected collective selves. This implies a need for reciprocity of kindness, respect, and humanity. As such, manaakitanga is integral to a Māori worldview and is said to secure the strength of whānau (families) and communities as protection. Iwi (tribes) thus work together to actively protect food resources, such as in the Māori Fisheries Act 2004 above.

An example of a Māori approach regarding support relates to their approach to medicine (Rongoā Māori); much of which revolves around food. Rongoā Māori is about well-being, about being healthy rather than the healing of illness—of the person, family, soil and water. It includes the balancing of the mind, body and spirit, highlighting the interconnection and support of energy flows. Through the use of many native plant-based remedies (rongoā rākau), balance and harmony can be created with Papatûânuku (Kerridge, 2016; Ngahere, n.d.). In early Māori history, Tohunga (Māori healers) could influence all aspects of life. Thus, if a person was sick, the Tohunga would first determine what imbalance had occurred before the illness would be treated—both spiritually and physically. While broader than just food, the Māori worldview demonstrates how these are touchpoints are not direct translations, as this example illustrates the reverence with which indigenous cultures respect nature and the broader system within which all life resides.

This example also illustrates how the weaving of relationships goes beyond the physical—often where western perspectives stop—and how the meshing of relational webs provide support for other threads within the web. Manaakitanga, then, gives us guidance on how support is embedded in care, and that connectedness is enacted through care, both the known relationships and the unknown. As the Rongoā Māori example suggests, prayer and calling on the spirit world are all part of an interconnected woven universe. This worldview provides a depth not evident in western understandings and highlights the importance of a living system that goes beyond human and material connections. The enactment of care and respect towards the other are interwoven within the fabric of life, endorsed in processes of creating and sustaining strong relationships—whanaungatanga. Care thus requires more-than-human support in the processes of food production (Beacham, 2018); with the intention being to protect, prolong, replenish,and ensure care and support when gathering food resources from such ecosystems, to guide future generations.

Discussion

Food systems are claimed to be the quintessential social-ecological system for human flourishing, and yet, there are widespread concerns over food production as it travels somewhat independently—but still within—the living web of relations within which it resides (Anderson, 2021; Böhm et al., 2019; Moore, 2015; Renting et al., 2003). Like others, we have argued for ecologies to be central to the organising framework (e.g. Beachem, 2022; Clark et al., 2021; Ergene et al., 2021). The aim of this paper was to develop a theoretical framework based upon ecologies of care with the identification of key principles for deepening connection within the ecological system: relationship, stewardship and support. We also draw from an indigenous Māori lens to add additional insights through touchpoints that may enhance our understandings of organising from an ecological perspective. As Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021, p. 10) note, indigenous worldviews may provide a “deeper and more intimate way of knowing that is different from the knowledge produced in a laboratory”. In addition to the development of this framework, we also make four interlinked contributions to the organising literature, with relations being at the centre of our ecologies of care theoretical framework.

First, we note the importance of organising from a living system perspective and we highlight the need for organising to be inclusive as an ecological living system. An indigenous Māori worldview highlights the importance of this from its notion of a collective self—that all things and non-things reside within Mother Earth (Papatūānuku)—humans, animals, fish, birds, plants, mountains, rivers, oceans, carbon… A collective self is therefore a collective of ancestors and ecology that goes beyond spatial and dimensional boundaries. Understandings and actions should include an awareness of, and the effect on, the collective, including relations that are invisible and interdependent. The challenge with the current global food system is that it is selective, choosing materials that are strategically important rather than acknowledging the interconnectedness of all things (Carolan, 2015). This means that the consequences of actions are not always readily understood. This understanding of a collective self-challenges us to think of a living system as more than materiality; that the living system is a woven universe, where everything is entangled, fluid, interconnected and indeterminate (Pavlovich, 2020). There is no separation between self and other, and all relations are ‘within’. As Berry (1999) reminds us, there is a single integral community; and every being enters into communion with the seen and unseen other.

Second, organising stems from ‘correspondence’ that goes beyond the material (Ingold, 2012). We argue that organising is not a productivist activity, but one that generates responsibility for the other, as all aspects of the collective are symbiotic and influenced, including the more-than-human. As noted by Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021), there are symbiotic relationships throughout nature; for instance, between the soil, fungi and plants as they communicate through their root systems. Or how people talk to plants. That is, all relations correspond and exchange information in a seen and unseen manner, but because these ‘things’ are not always visible to us, this should not deny their existence. The quote from the biodynamic farmer explains how she tries to work with the rhythms of the plants and the earth as she responds to the invisible and unseen as movement and flow within the system. Ingold (2012) explains this as a correspondence that relations are embedded and the moment of contact is generated from care. These more-than-human exchanges are not addressed in capitalist approaches to food organising, and yet we know that these exchanges exist as the act of correspondence promotes an exchange of care in some form. Production is thus a process of relational correspondence; or as Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021) argue, engagement is where relations and invisible flows have primacy over things.

Our ecologies of care theory also contributes to understandings of care as an organising mechanism, noted by both Beachem (2018) and Thelen (2015) who propose that all relations begin with care. Similarly, Carolan’s (2015) work on care ecologies argues for a shift from the commodification of food to a system that prioritises social, ethical, and ecological relations. Although these authors have identified relations and care as significant to organising, they have not developed this concept theoretically. Thus, our ecologies of care theoretical framework offers deeper insight and explanation regarding how all relations begin with care. Care fosters entanglement and connection through affective and also ecological considerations. Thelen (2015) argues that care can re-make social order through what Ingold (2012) calls moments of correspondence. That is, the touch of connection through care reproduces the social (Beachem, 2018), generated through motion, flows and entanglements rather than things and structures (Pavlovich et al., 2021). This is evident in the Māori touchpoints of relations (whanaungatanga), stewardship (kaitiakitanga), and support (manaakitanga) that are embedded in processes not outcomes.

Thus, by examining the world as relations within a collective self, we have extended existing theoretical conceptualisations of care. We broaden the debate and posit that care is more than dyadic and affective as often defined within an ethic of care (Parsons et al., 2021). Rather, we posit that care resides in an ecological web of relationships that include the seen, the unseen and the more-than-human ‘other’ (Ergene et al., 2021). While a number of scholars have critiqued the dyadic approach to an ethic of care, few have examined care from an ecologies perspective. Our illustrations from a Māori worldview demonstrate that economic and social considerations are not enough. We need to approach organising through an ecologies lens that includes the ‘unseen other’ that permits Papatūānuku to exist through time and space as layers upon layers of past, present and future, dependent on collective support and stewardship of the ‘other.’ Johansson and Wickstrom (2023) and McEwan and Goodman (2010) argue that care is a collective and community responsibility, whereby support and stewardship of the other are integral to care. Care is thus the originator of social order, not a consequence. Our theory therefore highlights how relations evoke collective responsibilities to the ‘other’ through stewardship and support.

Finally, we provokingly challenge western instrumental approaches to organising and argue the need for the spiritual to be acknowledged in the organising process. For example, Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021) claim that indigenous worldviews “are fundamentally animated and spiritual, immersed in a life force that transcends time, humans and nonhumans (p. 15)”. This is evident in a Māori worldview where, for example, Rongoa Māori, powhiri (a cultural greeting) and karakia (prayer and a blessing) are calling upon the ‘unseen’ as a central constituent of organising routines. We thus agree with Heisenberg’s (1990) claim that there is a central spiritual order of things, an inner spontaneity that emerges through the relationship. The webs and flows of exchanges as correspondence and engagement are what unite us as a collective self, transgressing time and space. Yet they are invisible as ‘things’; but rather are the flows of relations forming action. Ehrnström-Fuentes (2022) concurs that we are part of a cosmological whole, and support and responsibility towards the ‘other’ is assessable through collective care. There is a sacredness of life not acknowledged in western traditions (Huambachano, 2018). This spiritual constituent, we posit, is what organises care at the aggregated level, moving beyond the social to a metaphysical space of reverence for the ‘other’ through an entangled and shared existence.

Conclusion

Our concerns regarding the unsustainability of our food systems prompted this research. The current use of capitalist extractive practices has separated food production from the web of life within which it resides is unsustainable, with resources frequently being selected on their ability to improve economic profitability rather than their ability to create a flourishing system (Carolan, 2015; Dowler et al., 2010). There is therefore a need to engage more deeply with the living system, foregoing the active selection of resources for instrumental use, and instead acknowledging that systems have relational qualities that need to be considered in the engagement process (Ehrnström-Fuentes, 2022; Ergene & Calás, 2023; Ingold, 2012). The notion of ‘care’ thus provides an opportunity to integrate a more thoughtful, moral, ecological sensibility towards organising. As previously noted, we contend that a collective approach to care is required that includes the unseen ‘other’ (McEwan & Goodman, 2010). Consistent with an indigenous worldview, our ecologies of care theoretical framework focus on relationships, stewardship and support systems that foster healthy land, healthy food and healthy people. Our intention has been to illustrate the entanglements that go beyond human and other materialities and include the more-than-human. We have argued for considerations that include the ‘other’, drawing on the entanglements and shared existence that stem from care as an organising mechanism at an aggregated level. As Banerjee and Arjaliès (2021) concur, life is sustained by the very nature of our relationships with the planet, and there is a need to urgently need to rethink how these relationships work. This metaphysical journey challenges us to question how we produce and how we consume if food security is to be improved for future generations.