He Hōaka

In solidarity

2012-02-13T20:21:00.000+13:00

Ka tau taku aro ki ngā tāngata toko whā i tū tonu i te kēhi o Operation 8, koutou ko Ngāi Tūhoe, ngā whānau katoa kua whakawhiua i taua kēhi. Ka whā ngā tau o te hawene me te māngeongeo. Ka tae mai te wā kōti, he wā rararu anō. Ka aroha ki a koutou. He rā ki tua.

He kupu ruarua noa iho, hei tautoko i a koutou, i te mana motuhake o Tūhoe, me te tino rangatiratanga o ngā tangata whenua katoa.

Kia kaha kia māia kia manawanui.

Drop the charges
Repeal the Terrorism Suppression Act
Justice for all those raided, especially Ngāi Tūhoe
Support Tino Rangatiratanga and Te Mana Motuhake O Tūhoe

Symbols of change

2012-02-07T21:09:00.000+13:00

This is shaping up to be an interesting year. There are so many really big issues developing, it’s hard to know where to look.

The distractions

The National Party has hit the ground running. As its second term gets underway, it seems intent on showing what it thinks of tangata whenua, while at the same time, shrinking the only ministry that could give them good advice on these issues.

Key is big on dismissing anything that he doesn’t like the look of. Back in 2010, as soon as the Māori Party announced that New Zealand had signed the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Key dismissed it as symbolic. When he heard that Māori were upset at the proposed dropping of section 9 of the State Owned Enterprises Act, he pulled that word out again—according to him, section 9 is “largely symbolic”, showing either his ignorance or cynicism (great commentary at pundit: if it’s just a symbol, why do you care?). As the Herald points out, section 9 of the SOE Act was a turning point in New Zealand legislation. Many Māori will fight to hold the Crown to the promises of section 9, whether or not National successfully sell off a portion of the SOEs.

National’s attempts at getting rid of section 9 have both the Māori Party and the Māori Council on their feet preparing for that fight. John Key’s response to both is, well, dismissive. When Tariana Turia says the Māori Party will have to consider its position in government if an appropriate solution isn’t reached, Key responds "I'm extremely confident the Maori Party will remain part of the Government for the next three years." He reckons it isn’t a deal breaker, and a solution can be found, but his dismissal of Turia’s concerns oozes smugness (PM confident Maori Party will stay). In return, she posted a full page ad in the Herald schooling Key, and explaining why it is important that she stand her ground on section 9. Key’s mantra that the Māori Party will continue to support the National Party on confidence and supply must be frustrating the Māori Party. Every time Key says this, dismissing the Māori Party’s own assessments, he diminishes them. This looks more like a parent-child relationship by the day. They must realise they need as much distance from National as they can to have any hope of surviving. I’m looking forward to developments.

The Māori Council is asking the Waitangi Tribunal to stop the planned sales of SOEs until it has heard a claim that Crown management of freshwater and geothermal resources breached the treaty of Waitangi, and whether the Crown is acting in good faith (Waitangi Tribunal claim seeks to halt asset sales). The Council is asking for the return of water resources, or a large portion of the state owned energy companies as compensation. I don’t know what relationship National has with the Māori Council, but after the years Graham Lattimer put in for the Party, he must be disappointed at the way Nick Smith and Key are discrediting the Council and their claims. Smith is trying to make them look unreasonable with statements that they hadn’t come to see him in the three years he has been responsible for fresh water issues—he doesn’t mention whether he has made any contact with them. He calls the claims divisive, and says arguing about the ownership of water is neither practical nor useful. He is using the perennial favourite when Māori want ownership of a resource returned—you can’t own natural resources. Nevermind, that the Crown act as if they have ownership, or that they took it from Māori. The Crown will redefine the English language if need be to retain control over resources. And Key is being dismissive: “water ownership a no-brainer” and “anyone can go to court, but court over what?” (Tribunal action sought over asset sales). Key refuses to acknowledge that there are ways of looking at the world other than the western legal system. It’s good to see the very respectable Māori Council back in the fray.

(I also heard Key on the radio this morning saying he wasn’t concerned about the Waitangi Tribunal holding up sales of SOEs because their decisions aren’t binding—but I don’t know what station I was listening to, and I can’t find reference to him saying this. If I could find a reference, I would add this to the list of things Key says are symbolic.)

Meanwhile, Bill English used the raru at Te Tii to insult Māori on Waitangi Day: “If the northern tribes could run a marae properly, New Zealand might have a more positive view of the Treaty.” Which also implies that Māori aren’t part of New Zealand (all are insulted by Dipton dipstick). Nice one Bill. Personally, I think the reason most New Zealanders have little respect for the relationship between Crown and Māori is because we have such an appalling education system that most of us don’t know our history.

With enough National ministers talking enough crap, even the more conservative Māori organisations are calling them out. When we’re all back on the same page, things are going to get fun.

The bullshit

There will be plenty of court cases to enrage us this year, as there are every year. The first big one will be against the remaining Operation 8 defendants. This is the case stemming from the arrests of around 20 people in 2007. After a year of surveillance, houses were searched in Auckland, Hamilton, Tauranga, Ruātoki, Whakatane, Taupō, Palmerston North and Wellington, including 300 police shutting down an entire community. All up, the operation cost around $8 million, and they found a total of four firearms plus ammunition. Insufficient evidence has meant charges have been dropped against all but four defendants. The Crown will try to justify its violation of Ngāi Tūhoe and all those targeted by Operation 8 by going hard against the four remaining defendants. There are heaps of issues worth discussing in this; it is another case that looks like it’s about one thing, when actually, it’s all about colonisation and sovereignty. As Moana Jackson said: "the colonisation of Māori ... has always been about the dispossession and ... terrorising of innocent peoples. ... indigenous peoples being defined as a threat whenever they have questioned their dispossession... The real or perceived ‘threat’ has always then been met with violence." (Jackson, p2 in Terror in our midst? Searching for terrorism in Aotearoa New Zealand).

There will be the fights to defend our whanaunga, Papatūānuku, Hinemoana, Tangaroa, Ranginui. There will be the court cases that try to redefine our sovereignty. There will be all of the day to day ignorance.

The real mahi

While holding on to the little we’ve got in the face of this crap is distracting, Māori are quietly working on some really big issues. An independent constitutional working group – Aotearoa Matike Mai has been discussing constitutional models for the country. The group is convened by Margaret Mutu, chaired by Moana Jackson, and made up of members nominated by Iwi, co-opted for their expertise, and representing particular interests such as Urban Maori Authorities. They are working with whānau and hapū around the motu to develop a constitution based on Te Tiriti and reflecting tikanga Māori.

The WAI 262 report came out last year, and while the recommendations are conservative and disappointing, the claim and the report itself still provide a leaping off point for us. The Iwi Chairs Forum has agreed to support an Interim Taumata, to engage and work out how we can use the WAI 262. Remember this was the Waitangi Tribunal’s first whole of government inquiry, it shouldn’t just affect all branches of government, it will change the way government is imagined. This work should tie in with the independent constitutional working group’s, and I have no doubt that the results will be exciting.

There are also always tauiwi who are willing to engage genuinely. I’m looking forward to hearing back from the Decolonise you mind hui last weekend, which focused on “the connections between racism, sexism, colonisation, classism and other oppressions, and working in predominantly pakeha activist scenes... and how these things affect us and the feminist/ social justice/ peace/ revolutionary/creative work we do.” I look forward to hearing about other exciting projects this year.

So, a big year. There will be many projects and many fronts. For those of us who have been taking a break, it’s time to prioritise, think about what we can give, where we fit in, and to reconnect with the struggle.

"Māori Party might walk"—if only they would

2012-02-01T17:17:00.001+13:00

There are two reasons why I think this is interesting. The first is John Key’s reaction. He is making sure we know the Māori Party will not walk: PM confident Maori Party will stay. He is patronising and smug, he is telling us that he has the Māori Party under control. If the Māori Party want to look like anything other than National Party pets, they need to stick to their words, and most importantly, to the meaning of their words. This cannot be like the fight to repeal the Seabed and Foreshore Act, where the Māori Party kept to the letter of their words, while betraying the spirit of the movement that created them.

The second reason this is interesting is because it is essentially about the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. The Māori Party wants any investors in (currently) state owned enterprises to be subject to the State Owned Enterprises Act, which includes a treaty clause. That clause is probably the strongest treaty clause in New Zealand legislation:

“Nothing in this Act shall permit the Crown to act in a manner that is inconsistent with the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi.” (section 9 SOE Act 1986)

What does this section mean? John Key calls it “largely symbolic”, and as evidence says that he cannot find any examples of it being used. This is Key at his most cynical. The wording of the section is clearly not symbolic, it is binding; and there are no obvious examples of its use, because it is largely a constraint to aid SOEs in their planning—if it’s working, we shouldn’t hear about it. The real difficulty is in working out what those constraints are—what are the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi?

I’ve written a little about this before (Happy Independence Day). The principles of the Treaty may not be vague, but they are not just either. They are intended to provide a bridge between two incompatible documents:

te Tiriti o Waitangi, signed by 500+ rangatira on behalf of their hapū, reaffirming that rangatiratanga remains with hapū, while the Crown is delegated some authority in order to manage its people; and
the Treaty of Waitangi, signed by 30+ rangatira on behalf of their hapū (because for some reason te Tiriti wasn’t available), ceding sovereignty to the Crown, while leaving property rights with hapū.

The principles have been developed entirely by the Crown, and reflect the document that favours the Crown—the Treaty. Ironically, if one of the principles is partnership (which is what the Crown says), then the development of the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi is clearly inconsistent with the principles developed. The process did not reflect partnership, it reflected the Crown imperialism we know so well.

Retaining a section in a law the Crown wrote, which holds the Crown to principles it developed, isn’t a big ask. There’s no reason to expect section 9 would not be extended to private investors—if it is not, then the Crown is avoiding the tiny responsibility it has according to its own law (eg, the Lands decision found that land transferred from the Crown to an SOE is still available for settlement of Treaty obligations (New Zealand Maori Council v Attorney-General [1987] 1 NZLR 641). SOEs hold more resources than only land; selling parts or all of those SOEs without continuing the protection required by the Crown’s own law over all those resources is surely just a way for the Crown to get out of its obligations). In other words, the Crown set itself a very low bar for justice, but has now decided it’s too high (as it usually does when archaic concepts like justice get in the way of something it wants to do).

Do I think it’s worth fighting for section 9 to be binding on purchasers or investors in state owned enterprises? Sure, it’s useful. But it’s important to remember that it only imposes the principles of the Treaty, and every aspect of those principles is creepy and imperialistic. Meanwhile, while we are asking the Crown to consider not walking all over concessions that Māori fought hard for and won, we have less time to talk about the real issues—our own agendas and how to achieve them.

The Māori Party have been at the table with National for 3+ years, and it’s clear that National haven’t learnt a thing. They aren’t paying attention. They have no concept of partnership, or sharing power.

If they aren’t listening, what’s the point in being there?

Update: clownishly sloppy mistake shows National want to use their "mixed-ownership" model to get rid of the constraints of section 9. Apparently, (partially) state owned enterprises should behave like private companies, and clearly, private companies should not be encumbered by any obligations to tangata whenua (nice spotting at Maori Economy).

Can't afford justice

2012-01-25T19:55:00.000+13:00

Every year, I feel bemused by the spin about what the country can’t afford, and the things our government chooses to spend money on. Last year seemed particularly stark, but it’s part of an ongoing story. What follows is a list of big payouts I can think of without trying (I’m not commenting on whether they are legitimate, just that they happened).

The government can (and apparently must) spend money to keep large corporations from going broke. The massive bail out of South Canterbury Finance ($1.7 billion, which is such a big number, I prefer to think of it as $400 per person) is the standout, but they’ve been doing it for years. Pretty much every decade there’s a corporation that needs $1-$2 billion to keep up its good work. In the 1990s it was Bank of New Zealand (which got a $1 billion hand out from the government); in the 2000s it was Air New Zealand ($885 million). No doubt the government is giving a bunch of smaller handouts to other corporations that are too paltry to notice. They must be budgeting on $2-$3 billion dollars this decade. This is money the government is simply giving to companies for no reason other than that they screwed up.

Last year, the government decided it could afford to pay 25 % towards repairing “leaky homes”, estimated to cost at least $2 billion. Again, the government didn’t cause the problem with the leaky buildings, it just wants to help out.

The government reckons the country can afford a disaster fund of around $6 billion. Christchurch’s earthquakes will cost more than this, and the government estimates it will need to put in another $1 billion or so to meet its obligations. Again, the government is in no way at fault for the damage, but it can afford to help out.

From 2003 until 2009, the government could afford to set aside over $2 billion per year to build the New Zealand Superannuation Fund (estimated value at November 2011 of $17.6 billion). This is money that the government is saving, so in the future it can give it back to us.

For the 2011/2012 year, the government has a budget of around $82 billion. Of this, they set aside around $3.4 billion for “Defence”, about $9.6 billion for superannuation, and around $3.7 billion servicing debt interest. As a reference point, New Zealand’s estimated gross domestic product for 2011/2012 is around $210 billion.

You’re probably wondering if I have a point. The Crown consistently claims it cannot afford to pay anything like realistic or fair compensation to tangata whenua for the crimes of colonisation, even when it is proven to be at fault, even though it is proven to be benefiting from those crimes. In fact, the Crown claims it can’t afford to fairly compensate tangata whenua for resources before it has even taken them (for example, in taking, dividing up and allocating fisheries or airwaves, or in confiscating the foreshore and seabed). When the Crown decides how much it needs to compensate for its own wrongdoing, it does so not based on what the wronged party believes is fair, nor on an independent ruling on just compensation, nor even on negotiations with the wronged party. The Crown approaches the question of what it ought to pay, by thinking about what it can afford. And the answer it has come up with is somewhere between $1-$2 billion total to cover all claims, whatever they may be for.

It was in the mid-90s that the Crown came up with the figure of $1 billion maximum to settle all “Treaty” claims (you will remember this was about the time they had a spare $1 billion to help out BNZ). They called this the fiscal cap. After the rejection of the fiscal envelope, the Crown no longer refers to the fiscal cap, but they are still working to it (see posttreatysettlements.org.nz).

To be clear, I don’t begrudge people their payouts from the EQC, or their superannuation, or whatever (although I certainly do begrudge the corporate handouts). What I hate is the double standard. Why are tangata whenua less worthy of fair compensation from the Crown for resources the Crown took from them and then made a profit on? Why don’t the media and public get excited about this? If we can muster outrage that the EQC or council has mucked someone around for a year or so, what about people who have been fighting for justice for generations?

Why is there so little pressure on the Crown to even consider what a fair resolution with tangata whenua might look like. If the Crown can afford $3 billion+ per year for defence, or to save $2 billion+ per year towards future bills, but can’t afford more than $2 billion total for Treaty settlements, I’m pretty sure it’s not trying very hard. It certainly isn’t trying when, in creating a new property right as it did with fisheries and airwaves, it must be forced by the courts to set a small fraction aside for tangata whenua. It really isn’t trying when it gives itself the entire foreshore and seabed, even denying tangata whenua the right to test their ownership in court. And it doesn’t seem interested in other ways to rebalance its relationships with tangata whenua. It is stuck in defensiveness and denial.

The Crown claims it can only afford to offer us crumbs and scraps while it feasts at our table. It can find extra for corporate incompetence, disasters, the future even—but not for fixing its own misdeeds. Until it commits to balancing the relationship between tangata whenua and tangata tiriti, our grievances will live on. We will continue to bang on about sovereignty, justice and tino rangatiratanga; we will continue to educate and to organise. We will grind away. The Crown will find it cannot afford to ignore us.

Resolution in solidarity

2011-12-31T10:49:00.004+13:00

My big resolution for next year is to be a better ally. I’ve noticed that many of us who get involved in the struggle for social justice have a tendency to self-righteousness. We are most comfortable defining and defending the moral high-ground, it’s often the only perk of activism. Many of us aren’t used to our views being irrelevant, wrong, or part of the problem. My first step to being a better ally is to be more open to this:

to think about how to support people who are oppressed in ways that I am not
to ask if there is anything they want from me
to think about what solidarity means to me
to think about how I want to be supported in struggles that I care about, and to model that behaviour.

I’ve been thinking about times when I’ve felt supported to do or talk about things that are hard. I was recently part of a discussion about what it means in practice to be anti-sexist/anti-racist (etc) on an email list, which turned into an ugly argument. I could not have participated without the support of a few people who acknowledged what I was saying, who tried to point out the defensiveness and dishonesty of some of the responses to my ideas, and who debriefed with me off-list. I was surprised by how few people joined the discussion—it made me think about all the times I’ve sat on the fence, especially when I’ve known which side I’d be on if I had to choose. Why did I choose to do nothing?

Sometimes, I’ve done nothing because staying disinterested is easier than working through what I’m thinking and feeling. Sometimes I haven’t spoken up because it’s easier to stay silent than to risk being wrong. Sometimes I’ve been silent because taking a side risks losing social power. Sometimes I’ve stayed out of it because it isn’t my issue. Every time I’ve done nothing has been because doing nothing is an option for me. I’m not so angry or hurt or insulted (or whatever) by what’s happening that I have to react. So instead, I’ve chosen the easy risk-free option—staying out of it. Many people have pointed out that staying out of it is taking a side—it’s siding with the more powerful, status quo voices against the marginalised and oppressed (brownflotsam writes beautifully about this in How to stay still on a moving train).

Often when someone speaks up about something that marginalises them, they are criticised for sounding too angry or upset. As if being silenced, ignored or exploited aren’t good reasons to be upset. As if the feelings of the oppressors are more important than those of the oppressed. Usually, it’s just that those with more power have less experience of being criticised and feeling uncomfortable. Being a better ally means listening to people who tell me I’m getting shit wrong, and being grateful that they care enough to speak up. It means suppressing the response to immediately tell them what they are doing wrong, or how they could have handled things differently.

When we have some understanding of someone’s oppression, it can be tempting to take it on as our cause. Because I don’t actually face the oppression, I can become an expert on it. I have more energy and access to be outspoken, I am safe to be more outraged, I can also be dispassionate. I get to satisfy my guilt without listening to the people I am marginalising, or giving up any privilege—in fact, I actually gain power from this. It’s a different way of exploiting and maintaining oppression. When I feel outrage at oppressions I don’t experience and feel the urge to berate people about their ignorance, I am suspicious of my motives—I am choosing outrage when I could choose to engage in solidarity. Outrage is easy, working with other people who don’t face that oppression to examine our power and ignorance is much harder. It isn’t easy to find a balance between supporting marginalised voices and speaking over them; it requires building relationships, and talking about oppression and needs. It means being accountable—I expect to get it wrong, and I need to be okay with hearing about it when I do.

In short, being a better ally won’t be easy. Sometimes it will mean acting or speaking before I feel ready, sometimes it will mean holding back. The balance is probably different for everyone depending on whether we’re more inclined to impulsiveness or inaction. For me, it means overcoming my inertia, cautiousness and cowardice. It means overcoming my defensiveness, and understanding the ways that I have privilege and power. It means noticing and unpacking what I’m feeling. It means getting over my shit. If you want to help, you can tell me when I’m getting it wrong (I may even do the same for you).

Solidarity means making an effort.

Making an effort to take a side
Making an effort to say whose side I am on
Making an effort not to be defensive
Making an effort not to be offended by the anger of marginalised voices
Making an effort to understand a marginalised point of view
Making an effort not to be outraged on behalf of the oppressed
Making an effort to work out my guilt separately from groups I may be silencing
Making an effort to be honest
- to do what is asked of me, or say that I can’t
- to know my place and not take over .

There’s a lot more.

A few of my favourite things (or, what I read and loved in 2011)

2011-12-09T21:06:00.001+13:00

Summer is a time for geeking outside with some good reading (as opposed to the rest of the year when I geek inside). With that in mind, I thought I’d post a short list of things I have loved reading this year. I’d love to hear what you all have been reading too. Most of my reading has been related to work, so my list is mostly indigenous writing on decolonisation. Every writer here has stretched my thinking, but their writing is universally straightforward and uncomplicated.

“The basic population of New Zealand is still not prepared to hear and cope with the colonial history and will not be so while the general education system does not include this material for all citizens to evaluate for themselves. It is from this level of educational paucity that nursing and midwifery students, practitioners and teachers are usually drawn. For patients to be considered in terms of their political status and historical circumstances requires an understanding and knowledge of history which continues to be uncommon in New Zealand currently.” (Ramsden, p 180)

2011 reading started well. Moana Jackson lent me Irihapeti Ramsden’s 2002 PhD thesis “Cultural Safety and Nursing education in Aotearoa and Te Waipounamu”. She has been one of my favourite writers for a long time; her writing is clear and honest, so her ideas seem deceptively obvious. Yet her work has always been ground breaking, especially when it comes to nursing and cultural safety. Irihapeti’s thesis is an incredibly accessible background to that work.

Ramsden, Irihapeti (2002) Cultural Safety and Nursing education in Aotearoa and Te Waipounamu. PhD thesis, Victoria University of Wellington

Cultural Safety and Nursing education in Aotearoa and Te Waipounamu online

“I maintain in this thesis that presenting menstruation and menstrual bloodas putrid is a politically motivated act of colonial violence that specificallytargets the source of our continuity as Indigenous People, the wharetangata (house of humanity – womb of women). I pose the question ‘ifmenstrual blood symbolises whakapapa, what does it mean to present itas ‘unclean’ and how do such representations cut across the politics oftino rangatiratanga (autonomy)?’” (Murphy, p ii)

I was blown away by Ngāhuia Murphy’s 2011 master’s thesis “Te Awa Atua, Te Awa Tapu, Te Awa Wahine”. This is exciting work that will change lives. Her analysis is strong, her writing is accessible and she pulls no punches.

Murphy, Ngāhuia (2011) Te Awa Atua, Te Awa Tapu, Te Awa Wahine: An examination of stories, ceremonies and practices regarding menstruation in the pre-colonial Māori world. Master of Arts thesis, University of Waikato

Te Awa Atua, Te Awa Tapu, Te Awa Wahine pdf

“For people committed to transcending the imperialism of state sovereignty, the challenge is to de-think the concept of sovereignty and replace it with a notion of power that has at its root a more appropriate premise... Maintaining a political community on the premise of singularity is no more than intellectual imperialism. Justice demands a recognition of the diversity of languages and knowledge that exists among people—indigenous peoples’ ideas about relationships and power holding the same credence as those formerly constituting the singular reality of the state. Creating a legitimate postcolonial relationship involves abandoning notions of European cultural superiority and adopting a mutually respectful posture. It is no longer possible to maintain the legitimacy of the premise that there is only one right way to see and do things.” (Alfred, pp 46-47)

Taiaiake Alfred is one of those writers whose work is impossible to take notes on—every sentence he writes is gold. The above quote is from his essay “Sovereignty” in Sovereignty matters: Locations of Contestation and Possibility in Indigenous Struggles for Self Determination (2005, edited by J Barker). I highly recommend his book “Peace, Power, Righteousness”. So good.

Alfred, Taiaiake (2009) Peace, Power, Righteousness: An Indigenous Manifesto (2nd Edition). Oxford University Press

“It is crucial that Māori continue to think and to imagine beyond the intellectual imprisonment of what our colonisers deem to be realistic. So long as we do, and so long as we do so in concert with our Indigenous sisters and brothers in our common struggle for self-determination, who can predict where the relation of forces may lead us.” (Mikaere, p 204)

Ani’s writing continues to shine, and I was stoked that her book came out this year. I reviewed it here already.

Mikaere, Ani (2011) Colonising Myths—Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro. Huia Publishers and Te Tākupu, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa

“With the end of Jim Crow and with the rise of opportunities to become middle-class, the problem for people like me is not whether I'm black or not; everybody knows I'm black... What matters now is what kind of black person I am, which I must demonstrate by the brand of blackness I perform through my speech and behavior.” (Young, pp 131-132)

“Literacy is not chiefly about matching pronouns with the right antecedents or comprehending why Willie and Janet went up the hill. Literacy is first and foremost a racial performance. Take the code switching ideology I’ve discussed and that informs most speaking and writing instruction. When we ask black students to give up one set of codes in favor of another, their [Black English Vernacular] for something we call more standard, we're not asking them to make choices about language, we're asking them to choose different ways to perform their racial identities through language.” (Young, p 142)

Last year, most of my reading was about gender, masculinity in particular. I finished taking notes on Vershawn Ashanti Young’s “Your Average Nigga” this year, and he gave me heaps to think about around race, gender and literacy. Again, accessible, well-constructed arguments and examples.

Young, Vershawn Ashanti (2007) Your Average Nigga : performing race, literacy, and masculinity. Wayne State University

I have a bunch of books I can’t wait to read this summer. If you have recommendations to add, I’d be keen to hear them.

Post election post

2011-12-01T11:29:00.001+13:00

Okay, so the election happened, and it’s both not as bad as it could have been and worse than I had hoped.

I had hoped that at least Annette Sykes would have joined Hone Harawira in Parliament, and I think that would have been fun to watch. They are both smart, ethical and really frickin vocal. I believe that having a debater like Annette in the house would have made a difference to how the public think about some issues. She gets shit for being as smart and unrelenting as she is, which is bad enough in a woman. But Annette’s worst crime is that she is not just smart and unrelenting, but that she is always demonstrably right. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard in the last few weeks “I agree with what Annette and Hone are saying, but they’re just so bitter/ angry/ racist.” Bearer of discomfort has a great post on this. Mana have to work out how to best use Annette outside parliament, because I still think she and Hone can change political conversations, asking good questions, showing alternative strategies, and being honest.

I suspect a lot of voters who completely agree with Mana, instead voted Green. There’s no doubt that Metiria Turei is a great politician, she works hard, she is smart, ethical and vocal. Put her next to Annette and Hone, and she has a couple of other things in her favour—the public only know her as smiling and friendly (even when she is tearing into policy that is anti-Māori, anti-poor, or anti-environment), and a middle-class accent goes a long way. I know lots of Māori who voted Green just because of her. The Greens do have good policies, and usually have some exciting MPs. Perhaps they have become more interesting than my experiences 5-10 years ago. Then, their membership seemed dominated by comfortable, liberal Pākehā—green capitalists who were conservative on everything except the environment (people who love Russel Norman), but who for some reason filled their list with much more radical and inspiring people (like Metiria, Jeanette Fitzsimons had a warm, friendly face to go with her principled staunchness. Sue Bradford was just straight-up staunch, which is why she isn’t a co-leader). I thought that Metiria was pretty quiet in this election campaign, I hope that her party allows her and the other radical MPs to speak out in this term on a wide range of issues. Metiria tore into the Māori Party over their support of the Marine and Coastal Areas Act, and humbled Destiny’s political front man and Māori MPs who spoke at a Destiny meeting. Attacking the Māori Party, Māori MPs and Destiny is pretty safe territory for the Greens. I hope that she is allowed to target non-Māori groups with the same awesomeness.

New Zealand First is another odd party that many Māori probably voted for, unable to bring themselves to vote Labour, but unsure of Mana and the Māori Party. New Zealand First attracts two types. Conservative Pākehā like what Winston has to say about old fashioned kiwi values–patriotism, hating on immigrants, protecting New Zealand ownership of land and businesses, and not pandering to Māori (which is particularly awesome, because you can’t be called racist if you vote for a Māori to hate on Māori). The one thing this group has in common with Māori voting for New Zealand First is that they distrust politicians—only Winston calls it the way he sees it, and has the guts to stick it to the man. Winston is smug, confident and represents a type of success that some Māori are inspired by—no hand outs, just hard work (imagine if he and Paula Bennett formed a party). I can’t stand him or his politics, but with all the shit representation of Māori that we live with every day, I can understand his appeal to some people.

The Māori Party didn’t do so well, because they confused Māori voters with their unwavering support of National, even when the policies were obviously crap. Pita Sharples made things worse by trying to spin shit—no-one expected the Māori Party to fight for a repeal of the Foreshore and Seabed Act and then support its replacement by an effectively identical act. Trying to sell that as anything other than a loss shows a complete lack of integrity, and is an insult to their supporters’ intelligence. I would love to see them use this term to re-invigorate themselves and build bridges with Mana and the Greens. Unfortunately, I expect we will see more embarrassing fawning over the National Party.

And what about us? We who don’t ever expect party politics to get us what we want? The next three years are going to be hard. National and ACT are going to take support away from poor people (making the poor poorer), education (keeping the poor poor), the environment (making future generations poorer). There is going to be a shit tonne of stuff to react to, which means less time for dreaming and making headway on our own agenda. All we can do is organise, find allies and work on those relationships.

There will be rhetoric about putting aside our differences—I think we need to embrace our differences. This is a time for Pākehā and male activists to embrace the different strategies and goals that Māori, tauiwi, women, queer, etc activists may bring. This is a time to talk about why we see things differently, whether and why my goals and dreams are as legitimate as yours, whether there is real conflict or just difference. We need to not attack each other just because we don’t completely agree, and we need to listen when people tell us that we are shitting on them. There will be talk about building a movement—equally there is nothing wrong with small groups, the main thing is to get involved, whatever that means to you. We need to get our shit together fast, because the National Party is going to move fast.

Election 2011: I don't get it

2011-11-24T19:22:00.000+13:00

Okay, against my better judgment, I’m going to write a short post about the election.

The one thing I really don’t get about politics is the politics, or maybe it’s the voters—maybe I just don’t understand people. Two things about the current election exemplify this: I do not understand the cult of John Key’s personality, and I do not understand why the Māori Party pushed Hone Harawira to leave and build another party.

I am completely at a loss as to why National is doing so well in all polls so far. Their policies are spiteful (hating on those most in need) and incomprehensible (I know it’s just that the ideology doesn’t make sense to me, but I can’t get my head around the idea of choosing to sell even parts of your cash cows/life support systems). Either most New Zealanders agree with this shit (if the polls are representative), or they support National because of John Key. And this is even more bizarre to me. Here is an incredibly rich businessman playing the affable every-guy blokie-bloke, waving away the hideousness of their policies with a smile and a trust-me-I’m-a good-guy speel. And it seems to be working. I can only compare this to US voters electing George W Bush.

If anyone is in any doubt as to Key’s post-election desires, they only need to look to the support he is giving ACT (and I assume this support is the reason New Zealand First has rejoined the living). I remember John Banks as my local MP; he was hateful. He is consistently on the wrong side of any social justice issue. I don’t need a transcript of the cuppa kōrero—it was a conversation with John Banks, of course it was ugly. The fact that John Key wants to work with Banks and Brash tells me all I need to know about his politics. So yep, I don’t get why he’s so popular.

And then there’s my confusion about how it came to be that we have two Māori parties competing for the few Māori seats (I put the blame entirely on the Māori Party’s shoulders, as I explain in this post). The Māori Party have untethered themselves from National for the purpose of campaigning—and all of a sudden, they sound like they used to. In fact, their policies sound just like Mana’s policies. Effectively identical. So why did they make it so hard for Hone to push these policies when he was part of the Māori Party? The Māori Party is so focused on keeping their seat at the table, they fall silent as soon as they sit down. This campaign makes it clear (to me at least) just how badly the Māori Party needed people like Hone—instead of making it impossible for him to stay, they should have promoted him. He kept them true to their kaupapa. It’s ridiculous that they are now competing against each other with their identical policies.

Based on polling, I expect New Zealand will elect a government that I will hate even more than usual. I don't understand why people will do this. There are many other things that bewilder me about elections—like why we keep voting at all when every government is a disappointment, when it always seems to work out the same way (as many people have said: whichever way you vote, the white guy always wins). Which brings me back to my main point—I don't get it.

Happy Independence day

2011-10-28T23:58:00.001+13:00

So today (28 October) is the anniversary of the signing of He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tirene in 1835. I celebrated the day in a workshop on Te Tiriti o Waitangi. This is a really brief overview of my understanding of the relevance of those two documents.

The two documents, He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti, are very closely related—Ani Mikaere describes He Whakaputanga as the key to understanding Te Tiriti. The figure to the left shows this whakapapa: tikanga Māori reflects a Māori understanding of reality. The arrival and behaviour of Europeans created a new set of risks for tangata whenua, and hapū from the north looked to a solution from tikanga Māori—the only place they would look. He Whakaputanga affirms a Māori way of organising: hapū retain their rangatiratanga, but will gather as He Whakaminenga to discuss issues affecting all of them.

Te Tiriti was written 5 years later, and retains two key terms of He Whakaputanga—rangatiratanga (meaning ultimate authority and independence) and kāwanatanga (meaning delegated authority). It is a very simple document. Te Tiriti reaffirms He Whakaputanga, rangatiratanga remains with hapū, but some authority is delegated to the Crown in order that they can manage their own people. As Moana Jackson points out, this is consistent with the Māori traditions of treaty making.

The Treaty of Waitangi comes from a completely different understanding of the world. Again it is a simple document. According to The Treaty, hapū ceded sovereignty to the Crown, but retain limited property rights. This is in the tradition of European colonising laws.

It should be clear that Te Tiriti and The Treaty are pretty much diametrically opposing—according to one, hapū have ultimate political power under which the Crown has limited authority; according to the other the Crown has ultimate political power under which Māori have property rights. We are taught that they are two versions of the same document, but clearly they are not, they are based on entirely different understandings of the world and entirely different legal systems.

The principles of The Treaty are a recent invention, which are supposed to provide a bridge between the two documents. The majority of hapū did not sign Te Tiriti, 500+ rangatira signed Te Tiriti on behalf of their hapū, 30+ signed The Treaty, and none signed the principles of The Treaty. Yet all school children learn about the principles of The Treaty, most New Zealanders know a bit about The Treaty, and very few know anything beyond the existence of Te Tiriti. The principles do nothing to challenge the idea of Crown sovereignty, they are in fact an affirmation of The Treaty. As my figure shows, the principles of The Treaty are therefore born from the Treaty of Waitangi, which in turn was born from colonising law.

This is a shitty, quick overview to celebrate the signing of He Whakaputanga. If you want to find out more about He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti, I recommend Ani Mikaere’s article “Te Tiriti and the Treaty: seeking to reconcile the irreconcilable in the name of truth”.

Community justice

2011-10-01T14:54:00.001+13:00

I want to support the writers and distributors of the open letter about Omar Hamed (also responses here, here, and probably plenty of other places). I have read comments to the effect that the letter shows the failure of a community response to his abusive and violent behaviour. Those comments are wrong—the letter is part of the response to his behaviour, and also a response to rape culture in general. If Omar will not take this seriously, then it is important that everyone around him is aware that he is a danger to women. That takes power away from Omar, and empowers women (and people who care about women) to make decisions about how to treat him and how to be safer. I have read comments that the women should go to the police. Such comments are wrong for at least two reasons. First, because they are dictating how women should respond to sexual violence—Omar’s behaviour is the problem, not what women affected by it chose to do about it. Second, because the state’s response to sexual violence is notoriously shit, and we should not be coercing people into using it. And anyway, so what?—we need ways of protecting ourselves and responding to violence whether or not people choose to use the state.

Update: not afraid of ruins wrote a great post, the radical left needs to be a safe space for women

Below is an essay I wrote and distributed a few years ago that I think is relevant. Although it was directed at anarchist organising, it is equally relevant to any anti-state organising.

Justice without the State

As anarchists, we reject the state and its abusive criminal justice system, but we still need to deal with conflict and abuse in our midst. A justice system must aim both to reduce the harm from any conflict, and to protect those with less power from those with more. It is immature to criticise the state system without developing alternatives for our own communities; it reminds me of rebellious teenagers criticising their parents' lifestyle, but refusing to leave home and all its luxuries. A mature movement will develop its own justice system, from its own values, to meet its own needs.

Fortunately, there is a huge amount of knowledge and experience that we can turn to for help and inspiration. The majority of human history has relied on community justice models for solving problems, whereas the state system is a only a late-comer. This essay takes a brief look at different models of justice. As a reminder of where we are, I start by listing the problems I have with the state system. I look at some customary justice models practiced in communities today, as well as restorative justice. Restorative justice uses the principles and methods of customary justice, but the term usually refers to programmes that operate outside a customary setting, or that have been endorsed by the state. There are criticisms of customary and restorative justice, some of which lead to the development of transformative programmes. Finally I discuss the relevance of this for anarchists. My ideas on community justice come from an anarchism where the community is as important as individuals. My definition of community reflects this: a group of people who are accountable to each other, each member acknowledges the existence of common values, obligations, and understandings and feels a loyalty and commitment to the community that is expressed through the desire and willingness to advance its interests (Gyekye 1996:35). It may not be what we have now, but it is surely what we are working to build.

State criminal justice system

Andrea Smith (2005) argues that an understanding of power, control and violence means that we need to address interpersonal, state and structural violence simultaneously.¹ A truly just system would protect the powerless from the powerful, but the state protects those with power from those with none. By defending the powerful against challenge, the state system ensures that they continue to dominate and control—this can only lead to abuse and violence against the least powerful. Capitalism is a system created so a few people can get huge amounts of money from the work of many, many low paid people. The workers have little control over the system. They are kept in line by habit, the remote chance that they may move further up the pyramid, and coercion from the state justice system. State justice creates an illusion of a safe and functional system by criminalising dissent. Police are encouraged to threaten, bully and terrorise those on the margins, simply for being different. Loaded slogans like ‘building safer communities together’² protect those who conform from seeing that reality.

The state justice system exists to protect its own interests and values, and to maintain the status quo. In New Zealand, European law is considered the only legitimate law, reflecting European values, including individuality, competition, patriarchy, and private property. Other cultures, including the indigenous culture, are expected to fit in, to adopt European values, and to ignore their own.

When the state system took away our responsibility to deal with conflict and violence in our communities, it also took away the skill and confidence to deal with it ourselves. When the law is enforced as a moral code, it takes away our power to develop our own values. We need to set up alternative ways of working out our problems and staying safe, and we need to organise against the state system.

In summary, state justice is founded on inequality: at all stages it is racist³, anti-poor, anti-youth, anti-woman. State justice is founded on violence: police, lawyers, judges, guards, social workers are given power over victims and offenders, and there are few among us who haven’t been abused by their power. Victims have almost no power in the state system, and are often re-victimised and bullied by the process. Above all, the state system doesn’t work for anyone who actually needs it. It is effective at protecting the property rights of land owners, but not the safety of women. If the state system does not protect homeless people, poor people, brown people, young people, women, etc, then what is it good for?

Different models of community justice

Customary justice systems

Traditional societies have no state system, and maintain order through equality⁴, respect, and collective responsibility (Elechi 2006:11). Until the state took control, conflicts were resolved locally, involving everyone affected by a dispute, and aiming to restore community balance. These systems of justice therefore seem an obvious place to start when looking at models for community justice. I am defining customary justice as that which has evolved with the local belief system over generations to solve local problems. The customary justice systems I discuss are those still being practiced. Local religion is central, and customary law is indigenous to the communities that use it. Many books and articles have been written about the local varieties of customary justice systems (eg van Ness & Strong 1997, Mead 2003, Elechi 2006, etc). My brief discussion is based largely on an African justice system (as described by Elechi 2006), a proposed Māori justice system, and Native American justice systems (as described by Smith 2005).

In traditional communities conflict was generally between family members, and community strength was necessary for individual survival. Customary law developed to keep or restore community functioning. This means trying to find solutions that people see as just and fair, and that work long-term. It means the ‘rights’ of individuals are less important than in the Western legal tradition⁵. It also means that customary legal systems generally don’t have a set of rigid rules, and aren’t aiming for consistency either in process or solution. Instead, they focus on the fairness of the process, and the principles or values that are important, to find the most peaceful and enduring solution for the people affected. Social solidarity is a primary feature (Elechi 2006:18).

Oko Elechi describes the Afikpo model of justice. In the community he is from it is an offense against the community to report a crime or take a conflict to the state courts or police until the community had mediated on the matter (p 6). The indigenous justice system is perceived to be more effective and legitimate than the Nigerian state criminal justice system (imposed under colonisation). The goal of Afikpo justice is to repair the harm done to victims and communities by offenders. This means restoring the victim’s emotional and material loss, as well as empowering and vindicating them. The community gives appropriate support for victims and their families. Offenders and their families are held responsible, they are persuaded to compensate the victim and to apologise to the victim, the victim’s family and the community. The system is humane: the community supports the offender through teaching and healing, but the offender must first acknowledge the wrong, then, show remorse, shame, and accountability through reparation and expiation (p xvi). Decisions are made by consensus of all participants, which includes the victim, the offender and all others affected. The system commands nearly total acceptance and participation, whereas the Nigerian state criminal justice system is ineffective and largely ignored by the Afikpo people (p 2). It is most successful when offenders are strongly connected with others in the community, and value their love, respect and relationships (ie, when there is more to lose). However, in its use now, the Afikpo system excludes serious violent crimes, which are handled by the state system.

A Māori Criminal Justice Colloquium in late 2009 discussed problems with the New Zealand state justice system, and has set up a working group to develop an alternative system for Māori. Moana Jackson argued that the principles of tikanga⁶ provide a process for addressing social harm. A Māori justice system could be as simple as reconstituting kawa⁷, not just in our marae, but in our communities and everywhere that we are. His vision is a system which helps us deal with wrong by re-enforcing what is right, which helps us deal with hurt by dealing with those who are hurt, by helping us deal with injustice by re-defining what is injustice and what is just in our terms (Jackson, 27/11/2008). Edward Durie (27/11/2008) proposed making the criminal justice system irrelevant, in much the same way that the Afikpo system does in Africa. He suggested setting up a system that uses the mediation and conflict resolution skills our communities already have, instead of resorting to state solutions. Te Wānanga o Raukawa already has such a system: staff and students at Te Wānanga work under te kawa o te ako, and an internal disputes process deals with breaches of kawa. The goal is for the mana⁸ of everyone involved (including that of Te Wānanga) to be upheld or restored. Even serious offences, such as sexual assault, are handled by this process rather than referral to the state system. Te kawa o te ako is effective for maintaining the learning environment. I hope, but don’t know, that it is empowering for victims. Staff and students understand the importance of kawa; those who breach kawa may participate in the resolution process for different reasons, such as to continue to work or learn at Te Wānanga, to avoid the shame of being excluded from Wānanga, or simply because they see it as fair.

Many Native American communities⁹ are developing their own systems for dealing with criminal behaviour based on traditional methods. Smith (2005) looks at the ability of these programmes to deal with sexual and domestic violence. She gives an example of a programme where the sexual/ domestic violence working team talks to the offender giving the choice to participate or go through the criminal justice system. If they choose the community model, everyone involved (victim, perpetrator and advocate, family, friends, and the working team) develops a healing contract, and everyone in the community is responsible for holding the offender accountable to the contract. Offenders must deal with the humiliation of being known as an offender and being held to account by the community. They must work to being forgiven by the community and the victim. The State system would remove these offenders from society. When these serious but common offences are dealt with in the community, offenders have a better chance of developing ethical relationships.

These programmes are often very effective, particularly when the communities are isolated and there is less opportunity for social connections outside the community. However, some programmes are unable to deal well with sexual and domestic violence. Many Native domestic violence advocates argue that prison is more appropriate than community interventions, or that the threat of prison is necessary for keeping offenders in their programmes. Programmes focused on maintaining community or family unity often pressure victims to forgive and move on, or blame the victim if she is an adult.

"Traditional approaches toward justice presume that the community will hold a perpetrator accountable for his crime. However, community members often do not regard sexual violence as a crime when cases involve adult women, and they will not hold the offender accountable. Before such approaches can be effective… we must implement community education programmes that will sufficiently change community attitudes about these issues." (Pp 141-2)

To summarise, customary justice systems use the wisdom of ancestors that has developed from generations of trial and error, and which is stored in the local religion. Key principles of the systems are that they involve everyone affected by the conflict or offending; that they are more concerned with a fair process than they are with rules for that process; that they are focused on vindicating and upholding the dignity of the victims; that offenders are held accountable to the victim and the community; that the community is responsible for supporting the victim and holding the offender to account; and, that the systems are therefore dependent on a strong community with common values. There are potential problems with customary justice and I discuss these together with restorative justice in the following section. To me, the main point is that community justice systems are legitimate when they have been developed and maintained by the communities that use them, and they are accountable to those communities. Customary justice provides a starting point for thinking about what we might do.

Restorative justice

In its customary setting, restorative justice has been the dominant model of criminal justice throughout most of human history for all the world’s peoples (Braithwaite 1998:1). In the 1970s, some people working with offenders took many of the principles of customary justice, and began applying them outside their traditional settings. A group of workers and academics saw this as a new (old) direction for justice, and came up with the name restorative justice. The term is sometimes applied to customary justice models, but I am using it here to refer to its use in non-traditional environments. Restorative justice models look at actions that cause social harm, rather than at ‘crime’ (defined as a violation of the state and its laws). Like the customary justice systems that it comes from, restorative justice is focused on restoring victims, offenders and communities, and repairing that harm, including harm to relationships (as opposed to punitive or rehabilitative justice, which focus respectively on punishing or rehabilitating the offender). Restorative justice involves the victim, the offender, and anyone else affected by a conflict all working to find a resolution. It is based on the experience that people are more likely to honour a resolution if they participate in finding it.

An aim of restorative justice is to restore compassion to the justice process. It is victim focused. Solutions come from looking at the harm done to victims, and exploring their rights and well-being, rather than the behaviour of offenders (Van Ness 1997). Care needs to be taken to avoid re-victimising the victim; they must not feel under any pressure to participate, and the process and outcome must be desirable to them¹⁰. The offender is required to accept responsibility and to engage with those affected (the victim and the community) in identifying harm and repair. Howard Zehr (1997:68) defines the problem: wrong creates obligations; taking responsibility for those obligations is the beginning of genuine accountability. He summarises the process into three questions: who has been hurt, what are their needs, and whose obligation is it to correct this (Zehr 2002). However, there are very relevant criticisms of restorative justice, which also apply to customary justice.

Criticisms of Customary and Restorative Justice

Both customary and restorative justice are open to the tyranny of the majority. They reflect the dominant values in the community, and may not ensure the safety of minorities or less powerful members of the community. For example, restorative justice tends to work well for property crime, because the majority of people understand property ownership and want to keep property safe. It can fail to work for sexual or domestic violence, because many people will blame a woman (in a way they would never blame a property owner), and don’t value the safety of women enough to make it work. Like the State system, community and restorative justice systems may reinforce privilege and unjust power structures. For example, more articulate and educated people may be more able to talk their way out of real accountability; socially popular people, or those central to the community in some way, may not be held to account, whereas socially marginalised people generally are; and richer people are more able to offer compensation.

For restorative or customary justice to be effective, communities have to be totally committed to holding offenders to account, rather than respecting their privacy and keeping a comfortable relationship with them. For example, if a community will not actively watch and challenge abusive partners (this includes telling other people of the abuse), it will fail to keep survivors of domestic violence safe. Smith (2005) argues that a community’s desire to put an issue behind them and return to normal relations means that restorative justice models often promote community silence and denial around issues of sexual/ violence without concern for the safety of survivors(p 160).

A basic assumption of restorative justice is that our society is fundamentally fine and fair, and the best outcome is restoration of that fineness. Restorative justice looks for individual solutions to individual problems rather than looking for systemic problems. Ruth Morris (1999:8) argues that you can’t restore a community to wholeness that never was whole. For example, what solutions can restorative justice offer for sexual violence in societies with a rape culture, or for any ‘crime’ on colonised lands?

In summary, like customary systems restorative justice comes from an understanding of crime as social harm rather than law-breaking. Crime is a conflict between individuals that results in harm to victims, communities and the offender. The aim of restorative justice is to reconcile those affected as well as repairing the harm caused. The process is participatory, involving victims, offenders and their communities, rather than the state. However, both restorative and customary justice are open to the tyranny of the majority. These systems require a common understanding of abuse and a commitment from the community that isn’t always met. Finally, by focusing on individuals, restorative justice approaches cannot change a culture of abuse.

Clearly, there isn’t a simple solution. We need to try to deal with the violence and abuse within our communities now, and customary/ restorative justice programmes provide a humane method for doing this. Simultaneously, we need to transform our communities into ones that will not breed and tolerate abuse in the future.

Transformative justice

Education is transformative. It can change the way we understand control, power and powerlessness. It can help us recognise the ways that we are abusive, controlling, violent, even when that behaviour is considered acceptable by many people. It can show us tools, and give us skills and confidence to use them to resolve conflict or approach problems non-violently.

Programmes that aim to change the culture of a community as a way of making it safer, rather than treating problems as solely the fault of individuals, have been called transformative. These programmes understand that the context of violence is important: how the behaviour has been learnt, established, practised and maintained. This means that we are all partially responsible for the violence in our communities: rather than simply holding offenders accountable to the community, transformative justice also holds the community accountable for teaching and condoning violent behaviour and failing to teach alternatives. It aims to correct this, by teaching alternatives to violence and creating communities that do not accept violence as normal. Transformative programmes may focus on victims and perpetrators of social harm (the National Network of Stopping Violence Programmes is an example), or on community outreach (the It's Not Okay campaign and the many in-school programmes about healthy relationships are examples of this). Both methods are essential. Transformative justice aims to build communities that are committed to understanding and condemning violence and abuse, it is insufficient to educate the victim or the perpetrator if the [community] condone and collude with violence (Second Māori Taskforce on Whānau Violence, 2004:32).

What does this mean for us?

Can this work in an anarchist community? We don’t have the family ties of traditional communities, we don’t have a common religion (even though our politics have some common ground, how far that goes is debatable). Everything we offer is perhaps more easily found somewhere else, where there are less expectations on or accountability for behaviour. It is demonstrably easy to leave an anarchist community when challenged on behaviour. A community justice model could work if 1) we really want it to, 2) we are more obviously intentional in the building of our communities, and 3) we start doing it.

What follows is a list of points for considering how community justice might work.

Community justice works best when there is a community. Smith found that customary justice was most effective in isolated communities, because the community was more important to offenders, and they weren’t able to just dump one set of friends who were trying to hold them to account, and move on to another group. Modern communities tend to be ill-defined and permeable. I would prefer not to achieve the goal of a safe community by having people leave if called on abusive behaviour. Ideally, people would want to fix things because they see it as their responsibility. The benefits of being part of the community have to be enough that most people would choose to stay and fix things rather than leave. Is this possible?

Community justice is easiest where the well-being of the community is considered more important than the rights of the individual¹¹, eg kin-based communities. This means that individuals are always considering the effects of their actions on other members of the community. It is difficult to create this within a society that is overwhelmingly individualist. How do individualistic values, like personal freedom and privacy, interact with socialist values, like collective responsibility and cooperation? In most of us, these values are constantly in conflict, and we each shift around on this continuum. Some of us will respond to being called on behaviour by claiming our rights, others will willingly take on responsibility. Do we feel like a community has a right/ responsibility to hold individuals to account? What level of coercion is acceptable, and under what circumstances?

Community justice works when there are shared values. Traditionally, there was the common belief system/ religion as a code of ethics. How does this work in a group that rejects the dominant culture, that is characterised by non-conformity, and that is still defining appropriate principles for behaviour? What does our morality or code of ethics look like? It’s easy to say ‘our community is against any form of oppression, sexism, inter-personal violence, etc’. In reality, those values conflict with other values that we don’t usually talk about, like having a nice time with our friends, not getting involved in other people’s lives, making our own choices about how we live, and not being told what to do. If I hear that one of my friends is behaving abusively and hurting someone, will I confront them the next time I see them? Will I avoid talking about it because I want to hang out with my friend and I don’t like difficult conversations?

Community justice works when communities are united against a behaviour. When someone is challenged on that behaviour, even a couple of people undermining that stance can be enough to give the person a way out of feeling responsible for putting things right.

Community justice works when it is focused on the needs of the people who have been hurt. If ownership is not with those directly involved, and the community (or a working group) takes control of abuse in the community, then we are copying the bureaucracy of the state system. We are taking control away from the victim and others affected. The process needs to stay participatory and not be controlled by experts deciding what is best for us, directing, arbitrating, judging, rather than mediating and facilitating. Are we capable of letting go and actually trusting those involved to direct the process?

Strong communities have the skills and trust to resolve conflicts early, before they turn into big problems that need a formal intervention. We need to get better at challenging each other on shit behaviour. This means we need to get better at letting people know when their behaviour is hurting us, but it also means we need to get better at welcoming and hearing those challenges, however they come. How do we hear criticism without being defensive or criticising the process? How do we make our boundaries clear without being controlling? Building a culture that supports and models good communication is fundamental.

A fair system needs to be centered on the most marginalised, for example queer, working-class, brown, women, and those who can’t rely on their strong social networks, university informed arguments, or most radical rhetoric. Community justice seems pointless to me if it just repeats the crime of the state system in protecting the most powerful.

We need to be honest about where our communities are at, and not pretend we’re safer or more enlightened than we really are, or that abuse isn’t a problem for us. For example, Smith (Incite statement Gender Violence and the Prison Industrial Complex) warns of a romanticized notion of communities, which have yet to demonstrate their commitment and ability to keep women and children safe or seriously address the sexism and homophobia that is deeply embedded within them. Anti-prison advocate Herman Bianchi claims that even with the best community programmes, there should still be prisons, for dangerous violent people, and for those people who have received the opportunity to do penitence, to come to reconciliation, to settle the dispute, and refuse, refuse, refuse. Whether or not we agree, we need to face this honestly. Statements that we don’t need prisons or police because the majority of crime is property, poverty or drug related, offer no answer to the huge amount of abuse in society and in our communities. We need to have some response to that abuse.

The way forward

I see three parallel strategies as essential: creating systems that keep us safe now; educating ourselves and others about abuse to create a culture that is safer; and, fighting the fucked-up and abusive state system.

1. We need to start now, but we don’t need to start big.

We don't need to start with a large, well-defined, functional community, and we don’t need to find a single solution that can be used in every situation. My first step towards creating something that keeps us safe is working in community with those closest to me, ie a small intentional group who have some common values. From here, I can gain skills in talking about values and confronting poor behaviour. I can take these skills to my other relationships. I don’t have the power to make anyone change their behaviour, but I do have the power to participate in ethical relationships where my values are reflected. I can choose relationships that re-enforce good behaviour and challenge poor behaviour, and I can refuse to participate in other relationships. When I need to, I can call on other people to help me. If enough people are thinking, working and organising on this, we will come up with a set of things that have worked and things that haven’t. This body of knowledge can help us build better systems.

2. We need to be talking about abuse.

We must get better at naming abusive behaviour when we see it, and at putting pressure on people for as long as it takes until they change their abusive behaviour. We should aim (i) to talk about abuse when it is relevant rather than avoid it, (ii) to educate ourselves so that we have a common understanding of abuse and how to respond to it, and (iii) to organise groups, workshops and programmes to talk and educate others about abuse. Educating ourselves and others is necessary to avoid re-victimising survivors of abuse, and to support rather than attack those people who are challenging abusive behaviour. For me, it has been important to start by looking at and healing from the abuse in my life, before I can think about wider education. My next step has been working in a small closed collective where we have been able to build trust. We talk about the abuse around us, how it affects us, how we contribute to it, what we’re doing to fight it. There are many organisations educating about abuse that we can learn from and support.

3. We need to be organised, creative and strong in our opposition to the state system.

We need coherent messages that expose the violence of the state criminal justice system, while still acknowledging that interpersonal violence is a real issue that needs solutions.

Summary

There is no denying that there is behaviour in anarchist communities that needs to be addressed: there are conflicts, abuses of power, abusive relationships, violence. We need to have a constructive way of dealing with conflict and poor behaviour, and a way of keeping safe from violence and dangerous behaviour, without involving the state. Communities all over the world are working on this, using customary, restorative, and transformative justice models. We can organise now to build skills and practice methods. It isn’t enough to leave it to some future to resolve, or to take our failures as a reason to stop trying. We can build healthy communities, we can create strategies for sorting even our worst shit without involving the state, and we can expose the state as the bully it is. We need to start now and to support each other’s work towards this.

Notes

Smith gives colonisation, police brutality and prisons as examples of state violence, and racism and poverty as examples of structural violence.
Public relations slogan of the New Zealand police.
The mean incarceration rate for all New Zealanders in 2008 was 179 per 100 000, for Māori it was 617 per 100 000 (http://wdmzpub01.stats.govt.nz/wds/TableViewer/tableView.aspx); compared with the OECD mean of 150 per 100 000, or excluding the US 130 per 100 000 (World Prison Population List, 8th Edition. UK Home Office, 2008).
Elechi uses the term equality to mean that valuing the contribution of all community members is important in conflict resolution, rather than that all community members have equal status or prestige.
Traditionally, a variety of penalties could be threatened, such as shaming, death or banishment, that are now illegal or less effective for coercing offenders (for example, in such interdependent communities, banishment could be considered worse than death, now it is often barely a punishment).
Used here to mean Māori law
Used here to mean the principles that Māori law is based on
Used here to mean something similar to reputation and respect
This is especially true of Canada, where the sovereign status of Native nations gives them the opportunity to develop their own community-based justice programmes.
The process generally involves a mediator, and meetings can be held separately with victim and offender, who may choose not to meet face to face at all.
This doesn’t mean that individuals aren’t important. Gyekye (1996:36) describes it as emphasis on activity and success of the wider society, not necessarily to the detriment of the individual, but rather to the wellbeing of every individual member of society. Even though these communities are usually hierarchical, they also usually operate by consensus, in that anyone can participate in a decision that affects them.

References

Oral Sources

Durie, Edward “Maori and the Criminal Justice System” Panel 2, Maori Criminal Justice Colloquium: Te Ao Tara Aitu ki te Ara Matua. Napier, 27 November, 2008.

Jackson, Moana “Key Note Address” to the Maori Criminal Justice Colloquium: Te Ao Tara Aitu ki te Ara Matua. Napier, 27 November, 2008.

Published Material

Braithwaite (1998) 'Restorative Justice: Assessing an Immodest Theory and a Pessimistic Theory.' In Michael Tonry (ed) Crime and Justice, Vol. 25: An Annual Review of Research. University of Chicago Press, Chicago IL.

Elechi, O Oko (2006) Doing Justice Without the State: The Afikpo (Ehugbo) Nigeria Model. Routledge, New York NY.

Gyekye, K (1996) African Cultural Values: An Introduction. Sankofa Publishing, Accra, Ghana.

Mead, Hirini Moko (2003) Tikanga Māori: Living by Māori Values. Huia Publishers, Wellington.

Morris, R (1999) 7 Steps from Misery Justice to Social Transformation. Rittenhouse, A New Vision, Toronto.

Second Māori Taskforce on Whānau Violence (2004) Transforming Whānau Violence: A Conceptual Framework. Te Puni Kōkiri, Wellington.Smith, Andrea (2005) Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide. South End Press, Cambridge MA.

Van Ness, D and HK Strong (1997) Restoring Justice. Anderson Publishing, Cincinnati OH.

Zehr, H (1997) Restorative Justice: The Concept. Corrections Today 59: 68-70

Zehr, H (2002) The Little Book of Restorative Justice. Good Books, Intercourse PA.

Book Launch for Ani Mikaere

2011-09-15T20:35:00.001+12:00

Awesome news. Colonising myths, Māori realities: He rukuruku whakaaro is a collection of Ani Mikaere’s writing, and it’s fantastic. It will be launched at Te Wānanga o Raukawa on Tuesday 20 September (see pānui).

I’ve been struggling with this review for a couple of weeks now. Do I start with a disclaimer? I was formally a student of Ani’s for three years, she is now my immediate boss, and I am part of Te Tākupu who jointly published her book (with Huia Publishers). But I admit no bias—the first time I read Ani’s writing I was stunned. Her writing is passionate, intelligent, brave and clear. She doesn’t disguise her emotions with academic disinterest—she speaks honestly about what drives her, be it despair, frustration or wonder. She doesn’t hide her assumptions and logic behind jargon or convoluted arguments—her writing is so clear that her thoughts are exposed for the reader to judge. Often, she takes a topic that is supposed to be complicated, and strips it back to simple truths and lies. It is for all these reasons that I choose to continue to learn from her, and why I am so excited by this book.

”It is crucial that Māori continue to think and to imagine beyond the intellectual imprisonment of what our colonisers deem to be realistic. So long as we do, and so long as we do so in concert with our Indigenous sisters and brothers in our common struggle for self-determination, who can predict where the relation of forces may lead us” (p 204)

The book is arranged into five sections (twelve essays in total, most previously published, two written for this book), which together form a trajectory hinting at where those forces may first take us.

Stories of survival: working inside the imposter legal system
Talking back: a Māori view of Pākehā hopes and misconceptions
The relationship between tangata whenua and the Crown
Tikanga Māori and Western values
Tikanga at the centre

Starting within Pākehā law schools, where Māoriness was so marginalised that Ani’s priority was her and her students’ survival, the first three essays are revealing, upsetting, and strangely affirming. Pākehā may find them uncomfortably familiar. They should be compulsory reading for anyone teaching in a Pākehā dominated school, and everyone at university (if only I had the power to make it so). By focusing on her experience, these essays show the strain that Pākehā ignorance of their monoculturalism/ cultural imperialism puts on Māori. Māori staff and students are always expected to be gracious and generous in supporting the learning of Pākehā, despite the racism and cowardliness that those Pākehā may show. Ani talks of dissatisfaction, despair, hopelessness and despondency. Whilst caught up in the day-to-day grind of striving to create a space for Māori within the confines of Pākehā law... it was extraordinarily difficult to achieve any true clarity of analysis with respect to my objectives or my actions. (p xix)

In the second section, Ani moves from the Pākehā law school environment to working at Te Wānanga o Raukawa, where Māoriness is at the centre. This gives her freedom to react against the system she had been trapped in, to explore her frustration with the “misconceptions” that many Pākehā have about their history and place in the world, and the cynical way this ignorance is used against Māori. The irony of being lectured by Trevor Mallard on the necessity for Māori to trust the perpetrators of our oppression is, quite frankly, breathtaking. (p 117)

“As a first step, Pākehā need to own up to the truth about how they have come to occupy their position of dominance in our country – and to deal with it... The ease with which Pākehā cast themselves as victims of their own past never fails to amaze me.” (p 91)

The two articles in this section were written with a Pākehā audience in mind, but there is a lot here for Māori readers.

By the third section, Ani is focused on the relationship tangata whenua have with the Crown, a relationship that she argues should be based on tikanga. She tears apart Treaty jurisprudence, exposing Treaty principles as a lie. She challenges Māori to address social harm by first rejecting the Crown legal system. She breaks down the Crown’s criminality towards Māori.

”The Crown has been responsible for a relentless campaign of criminal violence against us. Every day that it continues to assert its authority in this land, it demonstrates that violence carries its reward and that crime pays. It has vicously attacked our physical, social, emotional and spiritual well-being over a long period of time, thus setting in train a crippling cycle of violence from which some of us, unsurprisingly, have struggled to escape.”

Having argued that tikanga Māori is the only legitimate way forward, in the fourth section, Ani shows how colonisation has affected our understanding of tikanga. She includes two essays confronting patriarchy head on, powerfully and beautifully. This is the work she is most famous for. She concludes this section with a discussion of the way Crown law has incorporated or co-opted aspects of tikanga.

By this point, Ani has shown how destructive a Pākehā dominated environment is for Māori. She has established that Pākehā need to face the future with an honest understanding of the past, and willingness to engage with Māori to heal that past. She has exposed the abusive, victim-blaming relationship that the Crown forces on Māori. And she has shown that colonisation has even infected our understanding of tikanga. Even so, she has consistently argued that tikanga Māori holds the only appropriate solution. In the final section, Ani explores tikanga Māori. The two papers in this section are wide-ranging and inspirational. Ani places whakapapa at the centre of all tikanga. Whakapapa dictates that relationships are of paramount importance: relationships between past, present and future generations – which include, by necessity, relationships between humans and atua and, therefore, between humans and all other living things –must be nurtured. (p 289) She speaks of a whakapapa imperative behind the drive to save our reo or repatriate our taonga. This is an inclusive, non-hierarchical and practical philosophy, always striving for balance.

Ani’s examination of the implications of a worldview based on whakapapa is an uplifting end to a book which has laid many challenges. This is the final stage, returning to the past to secure the future.

Kia ū ki tōu kāwai tupuna
Kia mātauria ai, i ahu mai koe i hea
E anga ana koe ki hea

Trace out your ancestral stem
So that it may be known where you come from
And in which direction you are going.

Details
Colonising Myths—Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro
Ani Mikaere 2011
Preface by Moana Jackson
Published by Huia Publishers and Te Tākupu, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa
339 pages plus index

racism=prejudice+power, or why we should support Margaret Mutu

2011-09-13T12:03:00.002+12:00

If you don’t like the above equation, you don’t understand racism. You’re forgetting the origin of the idea of race. You’re overlooking 500 or so years of European colonialism. You’re ignoring the structures that support racism now. You need to ask yourself, why?

Speaking of racism in the US, Changeseeker wrote (Racism = Prejudice + Power):

”Europeans expressly constructed the very concept of 'race' in the first place. And they didn't do it to make it easier to identify someone in a crowd either. They did it to create a hierarchy wherein people that look like me would automatically get the most of the best and the least of the worst--primarily by stealing from everybody else in one way or the other--while whoever was left got what they could, if anything. This was done for the purpose of making a very specific group of Europeans extremely rich. And White-controlled science, White-controlled law, and White-controlled religion worked together to legitimate this construct by announcing in no uncertain terms that White folks are superior to all other peoples on the face of the earth.

"In other words, the very social construction of 'race' itself was the act of White oppressors for the purpose of exploiting and dominating people of color. Having gone that far, some Europeans took their grandiose new status and proceeded to immigrate to North America, dragging with them millions of Africans, who they brutally and violently forced to build a new nation from the ground up for the benefit of its White citizens. It goes without saying, of course, that all of this new nation's social institutions, then, were originally established and have been continuously maintained by those with the power to define the culture--White people and those they allow into the inner circle.”

(And to build that nation, the colonisers first had to crush the indigenous nations. Just like here. Bless them.)

What does this all mean?—racism is not what one person thinks about a group of other people (but what they think may be influenced by racism). Racism is not what one person says, even if it makes a group of people uncomfortable, and especially if that group has a lot of privilege (people with a lot of privilege have very thin skins). Racism is an institution, it has a history and a purpose. It is the justification for cultural imperialism, for forcing European culture, law, religion, science, patriarchy, etc, onto all other peoples. When it is most successful, it becomes invisible, it is only common sense. What this means is that one person's ideas, actions or speech may be racist—but only if their prejudices are supported by the structures of racism (i.e. prejudice + power).

So, the power in the equation does not mean personal power, it means institutional power. I’ve heard people argue that this creates a hierarchy of oppressed groups, where racism is prejudice from higher ranked groups towards lower groups, not lower ranked groups towards higher groups (which would only be prejudice). This is wrong, because the institution of racism sees all non-white people as Others/ Orientals. We can argue amongst ourselves as to who is more or less white, and some of us might be allowed to sneak into the privileged white group under some circumstances (as long as we behave ourselves—act white and support whiteness), but it misses the point. In its simplest, oldest, truest form, racism means white people versus all Others.

I’ve also heard people argue that this understanding of racism means that Māori can’t be racist (I’ve heard it both as a criticism and as a good thing). E.g., it would be racist for Pākehā to say [insert racial group] are [insert insult], but it would not be racist for Māori to say the same thing. This is wrong. Whenever anyone buys into the structures of racism used to oppress people based on European ideas of race, they are supporting racism. It doesn’t matter whether I am Māori or Pākehā, if I am using the structures of racism to insult Māori or any other non-European group, I am reflecting and reinforcing racism. I am supporting European cultural imperialism (I mean, really, who do you think benefits when oppressed groups fight amongst ourselves?).

Personally, I appreciate Margaret Mutu’s comments about immigration. Is it racist for Māori to be wary of Pākehā immigration? How much do you need to know about the last couple of hundred years to answer that question? How much do you need to know about the Māori fight for survival, both physical and cultural? How deeply do you have to think? Pākehā media generally show an embarrassing lack of thought when it comes to colonisation, and Pākehā academics are predictably silent (why should they risk anything? Let others put their jobs on the line). This is depressing. How can we have meaningful discussions about our future if Pākehā continue to be so ignorant and terrified of the past and its effect on our present? Thankfully, there are brave people like Margaret Mutu who are willing to push the boundaries. They deserve our support.

Operation 8 charges dropped

2011-09-07T09:38:00.000+12:00

Fantastic, long overdue news yesterday (tangatawhenua.com). All but four of those arrested under Operation 8 will have their charges dropped due to lack of evidence. Four years after their arrest, four years after being vilified by the state and media, after four years of stress and harassment. Congratulations to all those who finally have this weight removed from their lives. To the four remaining defendants, kia kaha, kia maia, kia manawanui. Each time the police have been shown up on this case, each time charges have been refused or dropped, the remaining charges become more obviously tenuous.

Fantastic post from Maia—The cost.

And now the media are back onside again, which must also be a relief for those whose lives the police have tried to ruin (not so much for the police). Eg from the NBR:

"Another chapter in the saga of malicious bungling by the police has come to a ridiculous end with charges being dropped against 11 of the accused in the Urewera 'terror' case... The whole story of the Urewera police raids has been woeful right from the start, and it aids the reputation of the state for over-reacting. The state has already spent what could be millions of dollars on the case, and the trial was set to become the most expensive in New Zealand’s criminal history. So this is embarrassing for the police, who it seems just didn’t have enough appropriate evidence to make their case..."

To the police, how much humiliation do you need? You fucked up, own it, let it go. Drop the charges.

Mana Party, tino rangatiratanga and identity politics

2011-09-01T11:41:00.010+12:00

I see two reasons for fighting New Zealand’s current political and economic system, and the makeup of the Mana Party means they’re great for arguing both. I touched on one reason in the previous post—because the current system doesn’t work for us. It oppresses, and then exploits the oppressed, and it can only do this by playing oppressed groups off against each other. This division is fuelled by propaganda from Brash mā, spokespeople for the rich and powerful (bullshit like this). Divided by competing needs and mistrust we fall; united by the bond of our oppressions we stand. Grounded in many oppressed communities, Mana can grow relationships across those communities, allowing us to talk about the ways that we are exploited—as unemployed, as under-paid workers, as colonised, etc. And as I tried to say in my previous post on Mana (this is kind of the second part to that post), this awareness should help Māori to avoid replicating similar structures of oppression ourselves. So that’s one reason to oppose the current system, and one reason to be excited about Mana.

The other reason, which is sometimes forgotten by tauiwi social justice activists (at least in the circles that I have worked in), is that however the current system is organised, it is founded on the injustice of colonisation. Whether we have dreams of reforming capitalism with a conscience, or a revolution to anarchism or other socialism, if tangata whenua do not consent then the result will be ongoing colonial injustice. For there to be any social justice, there must be tino rangatiratanga. We need more people who understand what we mean by tino rangatiratanga, and why it must be the starting point for a just society. Grounded as it is in several activist communities, Mana is in a great position to educate in those communities.

I could leave this post here, but I want to talk a bit about the way tino rangatiratanga is sometimes dismissed as identity politics.

Tino rangatiratanga and identity politics

A while back a piece at Maui Street argued I am surprised that the Mana Party is focusing on class politics. The movement that underpins the Mana Party is firmly rooted in identity politics.... I want to talk about why it is wrong to call tino rangatiratanga struggle “identity politics”.

First, and most obviously, tino rangatiratanga is not about ethnicity or any other identity, it is about justice. Yes, in New Zealand the tangata whenua happen to be Māori and the colonisers happened to originally be Pākehā, but that doesn’t make it a matter of ethnic identity. In Wales, both the tangata whenua and the colonisers were Pākehā, and theirs was no less a struggle for tino rangatiratanga.

Second (kind of a restatement of the first, but it’s important so it gets its own point), the struggle for tino rangatiratanga is no more about identity than class struggle is—both are based on shared experiences of oppression and intergenerational injustice. I cannot understand any assertion that there is a difference (which is certainly not limited to Maui Street, I have heard similar statements from many social justice activists), and it pisses me off when we minimise/ dismiss tino rangatiratanga in this way.

Third, what frustrates me most is that (ironically, but not surprisingly) the argument usually comes down to cultural imperialism, or the perceived need for Māori to justify our reality against Western reality. It comes from an inability to recognise Western culture as cultural. I can only dismiss tino rangatiratanga as racial/ cultural, if I think Western knowledge systems and the values and ethics that stem from them aren’t racial/ cultural. Ie: Class-based struggle stems from Western philosophy, so it is not cultural/ ethnic, whereas tino rangatiratanga stems from mātauranga Māori, so it is cultural/ ethnic. And therefore it is identity based politics.

Fourth, calling it identity politics shuts tauiwi out of the tino rangatiratanga conversation. It makes it about us and them, when actually there are plenty of tauiwi who know what colonisation is, and who want justice for tangata whenua.

To review, tino rangatiratanga, is not identity politics, or at least, no more than other Western political movements. Even if we call it the struggle for recognition of Māori cultural identity, it is not identity politics. It is survival in the face of cultural genocide. It is based on a simple truth, which is not about race, ethnicity or essentialism of any kind (as I understand the term)—that tangata whenua have their own mātauranga, it is the first mātauranga of these lands, it is legitimate, it requires rangatiratanga to survive and develop. And it is about justice—through the processes of colonisation, Pākehā have tried to wipe these mātauranga from the land, along with the reo and tikanga that express them. Colonisation is illegitimate, unjust, violent, oppressive, genocidal. Tino rangatiratanga seeks to restore the balance.

I’m stoked that Te Mana provides a platform where these issues might get some deserved attention.

Oppression and the Mana party

2011-08-29T23:40:00.002+12:00

This was originally inspired by a great post on the potential created when English youth begin to side with the Third World liberation struggle, rather than with their own government’s colonial aggression, and the political uses of 'whiteness'. The Rebel Griot has provided a jumping off point for me to think about the need for Mana as a voice in politics. This first part focuses on the need for a strong Māori voice to fight a system that concentrates power in the hands of a few.

Those who set up Te Mana Party recognised the potential in building alliances between tino rangatiratanga activists, and social justice/working class activists in New Zealand. Mana provides another opportunity for Māori to talk about class, at a time when some of our leaders are flirting with an economic model that amplifies class injustices. They also provide an opportunity for Māori to talk with working class tau iwi about colonisation (more about that in another post). Pākehā who are poor are also oppressed by our present economic system, and are natural allies in fighting it, as long as we can break the bonds of white privilege (the Rebel Griot provides a great summary of this). These conversations will benefit all of us, because they broaden our understanding of our oppressions, and remind us who is benefiting from them.

Social justice and the danger of elites

The current system thrives on hierarchies of power: for example, race, class, gender—women, poor and Māori work in under paid (or unpaid) jobs for the benefit of the more powerful, rich, mostly male, mostly Pākehā. Social justice means breaking down these hierarchies to create a more just system—this is also important within Māori organising. Countless tangata whenua have spoken of the danger of creating indigenous elites who then have a stake in maintaining something like the status quo—they end up working against real tino rangatiratanga. As the Crown would prefer, tino rangatiratanga comes to mean little more than Māori economic success in the present system. Ranginui Walker writes of Māori leaders who:

"through training, or association with the power elite have been infected with an appetite for bourgeois success. They seize an opportunity to achieve economic power by championing Maori rights under the Treaty of Waitangi in the alien fora of courts and the Beehive. In pursuit of this agenda they unwittingly maintain the hegemony of the ruling class by responding to the latter’s definition of how Maori cultural and economic aspirations should be achieved." (Ranginui Walker 1992, Changes to the Traditional Model of Maori Leadership)

Ani Mikaere argues that this is part of the Crown’s strategy in the way it sets up Treaty settlements:

"[The] recreation of Māori society in the image of the coloniser’s class system will create differing political agendas for Māori, depending upon where they find themselves on the class ladder... any settlement which results in the class stratification of Māori will mean that future generations of Māori who seek justice under the Treaty will face the most trenchant opposition from those Māori for whom the settlements have brought power and prestige. It will be the Māori powerbrokers who will act as buffers between Māori claims for tino rangatiratanga and the Crown. More than simply resorting to a cheap pay-out to silence Māori protest in the short term, the current Treaty settlement policy actually sets in place powerful structural barriers to prevent Māori from pursuing their Treaty claims in the future." (Ani Mikaere 2001, Racism in Contemporary Aotearoa)

Annette Sykes agrees:

"in lieu of direct military-political control, neo-colonialist powers co-opt indigenous elites through privileged relationships with their government and opportunities to profit from their economic, financial and trade policies, at the expense of their people" (Annette Sykes 2010, Bruse Jesson Lecture)

And Ani Mikaere reminds us that this division isn’t just about class, it is also gendered:

"This pattern of bolstering the authority of Māori men at the expense of Māori women has permeated the Crown-Māori relationship... It should come as no surprise that the “subalterns” about whom Ranginui Walker was speaking ... were all Māori men... We have indeed, as Kathie Irwin noted in 1992, seen ‘the evolution of strange new cultural practices in which men are bonding to each other, through patriarchy, to give each other participatory rights across Maori and Pakeha culture, in ways which exclude Maori women’" (Māori Critic and Conscience in a Colonising Context—Law and Leadership as a Case Study)

We need to be vigilant of these hierarchies so they do not corrupt our understandings of tino rangatiratanga, and limit us to fighting to do better in the current system. We cannot have tino rangatiratanga in the present system, and it is my hope that Mana will offer a way through these obstacles. By focusing on social justice along with tino rangatiratanga, they are able to critique the present system on two fronts, and help us to see the dangers of replicating it within our own structures. We need leadership focused on eliminating the hierarchies that are dividing us by economic class, gender and other power differentials, as well as fighting the myriad injustices of colonisation.

My hope is that Mana will bring the diverse voices of working class, women and Māori into the political debate. A political system should be just, it should work against injustice, it should aim to eliminate oppression, and the only way to do that is to bring the oppressed to the centre. I hope that Mana will expose and attack policies that hurt Māori, women and the poor, and I hope they will critique those of us, Māori or Pākehā, whose actions support policies and structures that oppress. It may not win them many seats in the election, but it may remind some politicians why they are there and who they are supposed to represent. It may keep some people more honest than they would otherwise be. While the Māori Party is embracing the National/Act abomination, we certainly need something like Mana.

Operation 8: Deep in the Forest

2011-07-27T21:50:00.008+12:00

I finally went to see Operation 8: Deep in the Forest at the Coehaven theatre in Ōtaki, and this post is my thoughts on the documentary. I’ve struggled with whether to write about it—I don’t want to be critical of something that is important and should be watched. But it left me so confused, I decided to write about why I reacted the way I did, and maybe other people will want to add what they think.

First of all, Operation 8 is an informative film—at 110 minutes, it covers a lot of material, and it covers it fairly quickly. I’m writing this several days after seeing it, after I’ve had time to sit with my reaction to it, so my memory may be wrong in places. The film has two main strengths. The first is that it gives another opportunity for some of the victims of Operation 8 to tell their story—it does this very well. It also gives a well-constructed, accessible and coherent presentation of arguments against anti-terrorism laws, and police making political decisions on how to treat dissent. My main gripes with the film are that I think these two themes compete with and detract from each other, more importantly, the academic analysis detracts from the personal stories. And I'm confused that, in a documentary that is so clearly about colonisation, colonisation kind of drops off the radar.

The movie seemed to be in two parts. The first part focuses on the experiences of the people of Rūātoki on October 15 2007. This was compelling and upsetting to watch. I cannot imagine what those people went through, I felt rage and powerlessness hearing their stories again. So much of the media focus at the time was on the drama of the police and the leaked information—the real story is the tragedy of how the police treated this community. Like Valerie Morse’s book, this should be compulsory viewing.

The second part of the film focuses on commentary about the police operation. It uses lots of talking heads, almost all tauiwi, mostly academics, two ex cops, and one defendant in the Operation 8 trial. They present several perspectives on the state’s behaviour and build a case that the state has given the police excessive power/discretion. I’m calling this the liberal argument to distinguish it from other positions that are mentioned in the film.

The liberal argument

The operation is an example of the state over-reaching its legitimate power. The war on terror is being used to give the police and courts more power, at the expense of our rights/civil liberties. Special units have been established to fight terrorism where there is none. They create an environment of suspicion and paranoia, and end up "deep in the forest"—where leftwing academics and politicians become enemies of democracy, and blow-hard piss-talk becomes evidence of terrorist conspiracies. These units need to justify their existence by occasionally (or at least once) discovering something resembling a terrorist plot. They may choose when to act on information, picking a time that benefits them (eg, when the Terrorism Suppression Amendment bill was being debated), or that benefits the politicians who they depend on (eg, when the Crown is negotiating a settlement with Ngāi Tūhoe). Ideal targets are those who are isolated (because they are easy to vilify and there will be less political damage) and who annoy the state (because politicians will appreciate vilifying them). Whenever the police are given power and discretion they will become over-zealous, and behave as they did.

The bulk of this part of the film is spent developing that argument. It was this part of the documentary that left me cold—it was so abstracted and separated from where the film started. I felt frustrated hearing what all of these people thought of what happened, given that so many of them agreed with each other. I wanted to hear more from the other defendants, or the victims of the operation—what did they think the operation was about? I especially wanted to hear more about how the operation fits within our colonial history. I at least wanted some diversity of opinion. As I said earlier, the film presents the liberal argument very convincingly, but it does so at the expense of other arguments*, in particular, the colonialist argument that Moana Jackson presents.

The colonialism argument

The operation was an act of racism by a colonial state. "the colonisation of Māori ... has always been about the dispossession and ... terrorising of innocent peoples. ... indigenous peoples being defined as a threat whenever they have questioned their dispossession... The real or perceived ‘threat’ has always then been met with violence." (Jackson, p2) Police used Operation 8 as an opportunity to harass other groups (such as the search of the 128 community centre), but it is clear that the main target was the people of Rūātoki, and the purpose was a show of force against Māori organising independently.

I wanted more explanation about the choices the film-makers were making—why did they give so much time to the liberal argument at the expense of (especially) the colonialism argument? Unfortunately, the film-makers' voices are absent from the film. Many people have commented on their obvious bias towards the victims of the operation, rather than the police. I find the Pākehā liberal bias more upsetting, because it reduces colonisation to a minor role. I feel manipulated—the focus on Rūātoki did not prepare me for a film about terror laws and police power. Why were we given a little bit of information about the history of that community with the Crown, when ultimately it is irrelevant to the main argument the film presents? I feel disappointed that a story of the Crown attacking Māori has been used as backstory for an argument in which colonisation is pretty much irrelevant. I’d really like to hear what others think/feel about this. Unfortunately, I came away from the film thinking it was an example of Māori stories being interpreted and contextualised by Pākehā, and used to a Pākehā agenda. Again.

I’d love to hear how the film affected other people.

* There are two other arguments that are touched on in the documentary
The keystone cops argument:
The police were bumbling fools, who genuinely can’t tell the difference between silly games and a credible threat to national security. Several victims of Operation 8 mock the way police behaved, for example, smashing through unlocked doors instead of opening them. This is mirrored later when David Collins mocks the credibility of a plot to kill President Bush by catapulting a bus onto his head (part of the evidence used by police to get an interception warrant, and reported by the media as a real plan to kill Bush).

The anarchist argument:
The operation is simply the state exposing its abusive nature. It is inherently oppressive—it uses its power to control us. We see the violence of this whenever people try to organise their lives outside its control, even on a small scale. The state then makes up stories to minimise, deny or justify its violence, and terrorism is just their latest excuse. Tūhoe communities like that at Rūātoki have always maintained their independence, so the state will periodically show its force to bring them into line. It becomes especially concerned when several groups with different anti-state positions, such as anarchists and mana motuhake activists, are talking to each other. As long as the state and its police have power over us, they will abuse that power.

Mā te whakaoratanga o te tikanga Māori ka whakakaha ake ō tātou whānau

2011-07-04T12:26:00.004+12:00

Ko te tikanga Māori te ara tika hei whakakaha ake i ngā hapū me ngā iwi o ngā motu nei. He pitopito kōrero tēnei e pā ana ki taua kaupapa hei whakanui i te wiki o te reo Māori. Ka tuku mihi atu ki ōku kaiwhakaako me ōku hoa ako hei ārahi i ahau, hei whakaruruhau mōku. Waihoki, he mihi nunui ki a Krissi Jerram rāua ko Andrenah Kaka, nā kōrua te whakatakoto o te reo nei i whakatika—kei ruka noa atu kōrua.

He Kupu Whakataki

Ki ōku nei whakaaro, ko Tikanga Māori te ara tika hei whakakaha ake i ngā hapū me ngā iwi o ngā motu. Nō reira, ko te whakahauora i ngā tikanga pono o ō tātou tūpuna te mahi matua i tēnei wā. Me whakaatu e tātou te whakahirahira me te whai take o te tikanga Māori ki te ao hurihuri nei, kia whakapono anō te tangata Māori ki ōna ake tikanga. Ehara te tikanga i te ture. Ko ngā kaupapa Māori te pūtake o ngā tikanga—arā, ko te whakapapa, te manaakitanga, te aroha, te mana, te tapu, te utu, me ētahi atu o ngā kaupapa Māori—he rongoā ēnei mō te nuinga o ō tātou take. He rongoā tika aua kaupapa hei whakaora i ngā raru o te whakapākehātanga.

Kua tuhia tēnei taumahi hei whakaahua ake i ngā kaupapa e rua.

Ko te tuatahi, ka tiro ki te take o te tikanga Māori ki ngā kaupapa o nāianei.
Ko te tuarua, ko ētahi whakaaro mō te whakaoratanga o te tikanga Māori.

Te painga o te tikanga Māori

He maha ngā mea kino i puta mai ai i te whakapākehātanga o ēnei motu.
Kei te ngaro haere ngā hanga Māori i te mahi whakapākehā, arā,

te whānau Māori me ōna tikanga hei āhuru mōwai mō ngā tāngata;
te hapū me ōna tikanga hei tautoko i ngā whānau;
te rangatiratanga me ōna tikanga hei whakakotahi i ngā tāngata;
ngā mea katoa i hanga ai ō tātou tūpuna.

Nā ngā ara Pākehā i pēhi ngā tikanga Māori e toru.

Ko tētahi, ka whakaetehia te ture Pākehā i ēnei motu e te Pākehā, ā, ka whakaiti rātou i te tikanga Māori.
Ko tētahi, ka whakaetehia te mātauranga Pākehā i ēnei motu hei whakamārama i te kino o ngā mea Māori me te pai o ngā mea Pākehā. He kaha te karere o te Pākehā e pā ana ki te kino o te tangata Māori.
Waihoki, ka mauria mai ngā aituā Pākehā, he tūmomo māuiui hou ēnei ki a Ngāi Māori—i te rautau tuatahi whai muri i te taenga mai o te Pākehā, ka heke iho te tokomaha o Māori mai i te 200,000 o ngā tāngata ki te 42,000 (Durie, pp29-31). Ka mīharo ki ngā tikanga Māori e ora tonu nei. He maha ngā mate e pā ana ki te tangata Māori. E ai ki ngā tatauranga, he tokomaha ngā tāngata Māori kei roto i ngā whare herehere; he iwi pōhara tātou; he iwi rangatahi—ka hinga meake ngā pakeke. Ko ngā mahi kino a te Pākehā te pūtake o ēnei mate katoa. Ki te hinga te tikanga Māori, ka hinga tō tātou mana, ā, ka hinga tātou. Ko te rongoā, me hanga ake anō i ētahi atu kaupapa pai ki a tātou.

Ko te whakapapa te kaupapa tuatahi.
He rongoā tēnei mō te whakaaro takitahitanga o nāianei. Ki te huri ō tātou aro ki te whakapapa, ka huri ngā kaupapa katoa. E ai ki ngā whakaaro Pākehā, ko te tangata takitahi te mea nui, me tōna whānau whāiti. Ka whakatipuria āna tamariki e rāua ko tōna hoa: ka whāngaia ngā tamariki, ā, ka whiwhi rāua i te moni. Ka noho takitahi te whānau Pākehā, kāore he pakeke, kāore he tautoko. E ai ki te tikanga Māori, ko te whakapapa te mea nui—nō reira, he whānau whānui te whānau Māori. E kī ana te kōrero, “Kāore te tangata Māori e tū mokemoke ai” (e ai ki a Moana Jackson, nō Ngāti Kahungunu tēnei whakataukī). Kei roto i te whānau whānui ētahi tāngata pai ki te whāngai tamariki, ētahi tāngata pai ki te mahi kai. Ahakoa te aha, ka tū tonu ngā tāngata pai. Koirā te huarahi pai ake hei whakatipu tamariki, hei tiaki kaumātua kia whāngaihia te mana me te aroha o ia tangata, ia tangata.

He rongoā te whakapapa mō te whakaparu o Papatūānuku rāua ko Ranginui. Ka kimi rongoā te pāremata mō ngā mate o te taiao, engari ka kimihia ki ngā wāhi hē. Ki tō te paremata whakaaro, ko te whakarangatiratanga o te moni te rongoā. Ehara! Ko te whakarangatiratanga o te moni kē te raru. Ehara i te mea mā te moni te ao mārama e puta mai ai. Me huri kē ki te kaupapa Māori, arā, ko te whakapapa. E ai ki te kaupapa Māori, kia kōtuituia anōtia te whanaungatanga i waenganui i a tātou me ō tātou tūpuna. He uri tātou, ngā tāngata, nā Papatūānuku rāua ko Ranginui, ā, he uri tātou nā Tāne rāua ko Hine-tītama hoki. Ehara i te mea mō tātou te ao mārama i puta mai ai. He tēina tātou ki ngā āhuatanga o te taiao. Ka tiaki te taiao i a tātou, nā te mea, ko te taiao tō tātou tūpuna, tō tātou tuakana. Me whakamana i ō tātou whanaunga kia whāngai tonu rātou i a tātou. Koirā te rongoā, ko te whakamana i te taiao.

He rongoā hoki te whakapapa mō te take o te patu wahine. E ai ki te karaitiana, nā te atua te tāne, nā te tāne te wahine, ā, mā te tāne hoki te wahine (Genesis 2:7-23). Nō reira, kāore he mana wahine—kei ngā tāne kē te mana matua. Kei reira te pūtake o te mahi tūkino ki te wāhine i mauria mai nei e te Pākehā (Mikaere, p 2). Kei te kaupapa Māori te rongoā. E ai ki tō tātou whakapapa, tokorua ngā mātua o ngā tāngata katoa (me te ao katoa). Ahakoa he tāne, he wāhine rānei, he tāne tētahi o ōna mātua, he wahine tētahi o ōna mātua. Otirā, e ai ki te kōrero Māori, he wahine te tangata tuatahi, ko Hine-tītama, ā, ka whānau mai ia tangata, ia tangata i te whare tangata o ō tātou whaea tae noa ki a Papatūānuku (Pere, p 167). Nō reira, he nui te mana o te wahine, he nui tōna tapu. Ki te takahia tōna mana, ka takahia te mana o tōna whakapapa, ā, ka nui te utu. Kei taua tikanga te rongoā o te mahi kino nei.

Ka pēnei ngā take o te ao hurihuri e whakaea ai. Me huri i ō tātou aro ki ngā kaupapa tawhito. Ka waiho ngā tikanga kino, ngā tikanga kāore i whaitake i ēnei wā. Kia mau tātou ki ngā kaupapa tika, ngā kaupapa whai mana. Ka kimi ngā tāngata tokomaha i tētahi ara pai, hei rongoā mō ngā tini take o te ao. Ko te kaupapa Māori te ara tika mō ngā tāngata Māori. Waihoki, ki te waiho ngā kaupapa Māori me ōna tikanga, hei aha ngā hapū me ngā iwi? He rōpū noa iho, he ōrite ki ngā rōpū Pākehā.

Te whakaora i te tikanga Māori

I whakaatu au i te whakahirahira o te tikanga Māori i te ao o nāianei. Ko te tikanga te whāriki hei tūranga mō ngā hapū me ngā iwi. Engari, ko te mea nui he pēhea te tikanga Māori e whakahauoratia ai? Ahakoa he ara tika, ko tēnei te ara uaua, te ara kāwekaweka.

Ko te mea tuatahi, me tīmata ki te āta whakaaro mō ō tātou ake tikanga, kia hangaia tētahi moemoeā hou, tētahi moemoeā nui. Mā te moemoeā te whakatakotoranga kaupapa e whakaputa. Nā Whatarangi Winiata te moemoeā Whakatupuranga Rua Mano hei whakahauora i tōna iwi (Winiata, p 791). I whakatakoto kaupapa ia mō ngā tau e 25 mai i te tau 1975 tae noa ki te tau 2000, ā, ka mau ia ki tōna kaupapa. He tauira tēnei mō te hua o te moemoeā nui. Me titiro ki te pae tawhiti—kotahi rau tau pea, kei kō atu rānei.

Ko te mea nui ko te whakatakoto kaupapa:

he aha ngā uara;
ko wai hei kaihautū; ā
ko whea tātou a ngā tau e rima, 20, 50;
he pēhea te tātari i ngā hua.

Ko te mea tuarua te mātauranga, hei whakatupu i te moemoeā. He mea pai ngā kura Māori, hei wāhi whakahauora i te reo Māori, hei wāhi manaaki i te mana o te tamaiti. Engari, ka whakatūpato a Irihapeti Ramsden, kia kaua aua kura e ako i ngā whakaaro Pākehā me te kōrero o te hāhi Pākehā (Ramsden, p 111). Ahakoa kei roto i te reo Māori, te reo Pākehā rānei, me huri te aro ki ngā kaupapa Māori. Me hanga tātou he rauemi kia whakaaturia te mātauranga Māori, arā te kaupapa Māori. Mā tātou taua manu e rere ai. Kei ngā iwi, ngā hapū, ngā wānanga, me ngā rohe o rātou huruhuru, arā, he pūtea, he kura, he tāngata, he pūkenga, he mana. Engari, kāhore te mātauranga kei ngā kura anake, kei waho kē i ngā kura te nuinga o ō tātou akoranga. Hei aha te wāhi, kei ngā wāhi tika ngā tāngata e ako ana. Nō reira, mēnā ko te tūmanako kia whakanui ake i te hunga e matatau ana ki te oranga mō ō rātou hapū me totoro atu te mātauranga ki ngā tāngata Māori katoa. Me haere ki ngā marae me ngā kura, otirā, me haere ki ngā rōpū hākinakina, ki ngā wāhi mahi, ki ngā whare herehere. Mā ō tātou whanaungatanga e whakakaha ake i te hononga ki waenga i ngā whanaunga.

Ko te mea whakamutunga, kia whakamahia ngā kaupapa o ō tātou tūpuna nāianei me whakatauira tātou i te ara tika. Me whakakewa i te tūmanako, ā, he pai ake te tauira i te kōrero noa iho.

He Kupu Whakakapi

Kāore e kore ka pūāwai ngā iwi Māori a ngā tau e heke mai nei.
Engari, e rua ngā ara kia pai ai: ko te ara Pākehā te whakarangatira i te moni; ko te ara Māori ko te mātauranga Māori, ko te whakapapa te pūtake.
He pai te mātauranga i ahu mai i Rangiātea, te mātauranga tuatahi o ēnei motu.
Kei roto i taua mātauranga ngā tikanga hei whakakaha i ngā tāngata Māori. Ahakoa te nui o ngā tau e whakahaerehia ana te paremata i raro i te mana o te tikanga Pākehā, noho kau tonu ana te nuinga o ngā tāngata, he pōhara hoki. Mēnā ka whai tonu ngā hapū me ngā iwi Māori i te ara Pākehā, ka haere tonu taua hē. Me huri kē mai ki te mātauranga Māori me ōna tikanga. He aka torotoro. Ahakoa te uaua me te roa o te haerenga, me ū ki te kaupapa, ka ako, ka whakatauira. He nui tēnei pīkaunga, ā, me mahi takitini tātou—“kō koe ki tēnā, ko ahau ki tēnei kīwai o te kete” (Mead and Grove, p 232).

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Durie, Mason, Ngā Tai Matatū: Tides of Māori Endurance. Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 2005

Mead, Hirini Moko and Neil Grove, Ngā Pēpehā a ngā Tīpuna. Victoria University Press, Wellington, 2003

Pere, Rangimarie Rose, “The Mother Energy” in Kaupapa New Zealand: Vision Aotearoa, Edited by Witi Ihimaera. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington, 1994

Ramsden, Irihapeti, “Own the past and create the future” in Toi Wāhine: the worlds of Māori women, Edited by Kathie Irwin and Irihapeti Ramsden. Penguin Books, Auckland, 1995

Winiata, Whatarangi, “Hapū and Iwi resources and their quantification” in Report of the Royal Commission on Social Policy Vol III Part Two. Government Printer, Wellington, 1988

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Mikaere, Ani, "Patriarchy as the ultimate divide and rule tactic: The assault on tikanga Māori by Pākehā Law" Paper presented at Mai i te Ata Hāpara conference, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki, 11-13 August, 2000

Not my destiny

2011-06-05T17:52:00.002+12:00

About ten years ago, the leader of a church I hadn’t heard of was spouting something along the lines of it was the work of the devil that New Zealand had a female Prime Minister and a female Leader of the Opposition. Don't get me wrong, said Tamaki. I have nothing against women. It is just that this is a reflection of what is happening in society - a lack of men in leadership and sky-high divorce rates. (Tamaki, 2000) This is a situation that had never happened before and hasn’t happened since, women leading the two most popular political parties. Neither of these parties at the time, before or since, have come close to a majority of women MPs (see here for historical parliamentary stats and here for 2008 party stats).

However, according to Tamaki, God is very specific about the role and function of men (2006, More than meets the eye: Bishop Brian Tamaki), so maybe any women in parliament is too many. God must be stoked then that of the four political parties invited to speak at the Destiny Church political forum last night, not one sent a woman. Hone Harawira spoke for the Mana Party, Pita Sharples for the Maori Party, Shane Jones for the Labour Party, and Tau Henare for National ( RNZ) (Georgina Te Heuheu was scheduled to speak for National. I don’t know why she was replaced by Henare).

There are two possible reasons for the lack of women: either each political party chose their best Māori representative, and coincidentally they are all male; or, each party chose to send their best male, Māori representative, because it would play better. Either way, it says something really sad about party politics. In the first case, it suggests that Māori women are not getting the same opportunities as Māori men. In the second case, it says that parties are willing to support misogyny if it will buy them votes.

The Destiny vision of a uniformly heterosexual, masculine leadership was previewed for them at their forum last night. I haven’t heard if anyone spoke for those of us who are excluded from that vision (but please, if someone did, I want to hear about it). I know not to expect anything better from the other parties, but it disappointed me to see Mana playing to Destiny.

Seven years ago, parliament removed some legal discrimination against same-sex relationships. Thousands of Destinites marched to parliament in protest. I will not forget the righteous arrogance of those Destinites who threatened, pushed, hit, spat at, and generally abused those few who dared to stand for queer solidarity that day. Naively, I had hoped Mana would take the opportunity to stand with us last night. It would have shown more mana than a self-congratulatory, macho sound-bite about being no-one’s lapdog (RNZ: No lap dog status for Harawira).

Mana wahine

2011-06-02T13:59:00.004+12:00

This essay looks at mana wahine, the place and mana of women in tikanga Māori. It discusses the effect of colonisation, cultural imperialism and patriarchy on our tikanga. Tino rangatiratanga is not just about regaining control of our resources, it also means the freedom and power to make decisions that are right for us, and it includes the responsibility to behave as rangatira. Rangatiratanga is part of Māori law, tikanga Māori; to my mind, tino rangatiratanga can only be achieved with a return to tikanga Māori. An understanding of mana is fundamental, and this includes an open-minded consideration of mana wahine.

Some see a justification in tikanga Māori for exclusively male power and leadership. Too often, I have heard some of our men talk about women as if we are objects that can be collected and used to enhance their mana. I have seen men arriving at hui barely acknowledge the women present, while stopping to hongi every man. I have heard some men talk about children as if they exist only to enhance the father’s mana, as if mothers are just convenient caregivers, raising the children so the men can move on and have more. Is this what is meant by women being the source of mana? That our only mana is because of the children our whare tangata provide our men? Is this what our young people are learning? If this is true, what would tino rangatiratanga mean for women?

I will argue that this view of mana wahine is a recent distortion of tikanga Māori as a result of colonisation. European newcomers privileged one half of Māori society over the other; they brought their religion as justification for exclusive male leadership. For 200+ years, Pākehā leaders have behaved as if only men should have power, from the signing of Te Tiriti, to recent examples, such as Crown selection of all-male negotiators for the fisheries deal. Few Māori men are challenging this bias. It is as devastating to us as land thefts, because it has corrupted who we are and our relationships with each other, our tūpuna, and our whenua.

There is a common belief among Māori and non-Māori that women are secondary to men in tikanga Māori (Mikaere (b), p 7). This has been internalised by many Māori women, as expressed by Heni Brown: being a woman, I wasn't respected... I used to think, you're the eldest, you're the rangatira. No. Not in the Māori world. (Brown, p 48) It is difficult to assess the place of wāhine in tikanga Māori. Tikanga is based on the values handed down by our tūpuna, these values appear to have been distorted since the arrival of Europeans. Our creation stories which illustrate these values have also been distorted. However, who am I to determine what is authentic in tikanga Māori? I was brought up in a Pākehā family, I have spent more time in feminist and anarchist cultures than in Māori. When I look at tikanga Māori, I am personally invested in finding that women were not considered secondary to men, and that women's skills, knowledge and leadership were valued as much as men's. Instead of giving my uninformed and heavily biased analysis of the place of wāhine in tikanga Māori, I lay out the problems as I see them.

Tikanga Māori

Tikanga (Māori law) is based on whakapapa: Law was...'born' of whakapapa or 'arose' out of it (Jackson, p 61). Tikanga provide guidelines to manage our relationships so that we can protect our tapu and mana, and avoid diminishing others'; its purpose is to maintain the balance of tapu within relationships. Tikanga cannot be seen as a set of rules, but rather as the set of values (kaupapa) that underlie those practices (Ministry of Justice, p 10). These kaupapa, including manaakitanga, whanaungatanga, mana, tapu, noa, and ea, are the foundations of Māori society (Mead, pp 25-32).

Tikanga were established and developed by our ancestors. The values that were important are illustrated in the oral traditions that have survived across generations—the creation stories, waiata, haka and whakataukī show us which attributes and behaviours were adaptive and praised, and which were not (Mikaere (a), p 4; Mahuika, p 46). Understanding any aspect of tikanga Māori should then be as easy as finding the appropriate examples. Understanding the place of wāhine in tikanga Māori should be easy. The creation traditions are full of females: Papatūānuku, Hine-ahu-one, Hine-tītama/ Hine-nui-te-pō, Taranga, Mahuika, Muriranga-whenua; Te Pō is seen by many to be female. It should be as simple as examining their roles in those stories.

There are two problems in examining Māori creation stories to understand the importance of wāhine in tikanga Māori. The first should be minor: creation stories, like specifics of tikanga, vary among and within iwi. The reason this is not a minor problem in relation to the place of wāhine, is because the variation starts from the very beginning. Some authorities have Io-matua-kore existing in the void of Te Kore as the male creator of the foundations of the universe, including Te Pō, and Ranginui and Papatūānuku (Marsden, p 16; many authorities are skeptical of the authenticity of the Io tradition, but others are confident of it; it is therefore impossible to dismiss it outright). In the traditions of Kāi Tahu (the iwi to which I belong), Te Pō is the female element from which life emerges (Tau, p 73). While other traditions explicitly have the female Papatūānuku and male Ranginui as the first beings, created equal: Kotahi ano te tupuna o te tangata Maori ko Rangi-nui e tu nei, ko Papa-tua-nuku e takoto nei (Grey, 1953 cited in Mead, p 309). So, either males have primacy in creation, females have primacy in creation, or there is balance between males and females from the beginning. This is not a trivial detail. If these stories serve to show us the ultimate reality and our place in the world (Marsden, p 56), it is surprising there is not more agreement on such an important issue.

This introduces the second problem. When Pākehā came to these islands, they brought with them two things that have affected the Maori world-view and tikanga: 1) pens and 2) a missionary belief in their own superiority. Prior to the arrival of Europeans, all that was worth knowing was embedded in the oral tradition. Tohunga ahurewa, those chosen to ensure the spiritual and physical well-being of an iwi or hapū, maintained the accuracy of the 'sacred lore', traditions and whakapapa (Marsden, p 15). However, Europeans colonising this land trusted the written word for storing information; they very quickly began recording details about the people here. Decades before Elsdon Best and Percy Smith began researching Māori culture at the end of the 19th century, words were already being written and read, and repeated (e.g. George Angas in 1847, Shortland in 1856). It is unlikely that these writers, or the many that came later (and continue to come), understood what they were seeing and hearing. However, once written down, even doubtful material has a tendency to out-compete and corrupt oral literature.

If something as neutral and passive-seeming as a person with a pen trying to truthfully record information can have such an effect on our culture, what then of the missionaries and 'civilisation'. The purpose of the missionaries was to convert Māori people to christianity, convincing them to leave behind their old ways and beliefs (Mikaere (b), p 68). Although many were converted, they also held onto Māori traditions, some of which seem to have changed to become more in line with christianity. There are incredible similarities between some Māori creation stories and biblical stories. Buck diplomatically describes the discovery of Io, a supreme christian-like god in Māori creation, as a surprise to Maori and Pakeha alike (Buck, p 526). Likewise, Mikaere comments that the account of the creation of the first woman, Hine-ahu-one...[is] uncannily similar to the biblical myth of Adam creating Eve (Mikaere (a), p 7).

The relevance to mana wahine of this foreign influence on Māori creation traditions is obvious when we consider the overwhelmingly patriarchal bias of early European colonisers. If their ideas infiltrated our stories, we can expect a distortion of the gender roles: a diminishing and pacifying of the female roles, and an inflation of the male roles. Mikaere gives a detailed account of exactly this, particularly in relation to Best and Smith (Mikaere (b), pp 68-78). Contrast this with the creation traditions explained by Rose Pere, a woman who grew up in Ngāi Tūhoe culture in the mid-twentieth century: her accounts have male figures as less dominant, and females playing a more active role, even while acknowledging Io as the supreme influence (Pere (Ako), pp 7-15).

…[T]he first human was a woman. She was not formed by Tane, or any male god. She was from Papatuanuku... My old people said the reason why the first human was a woman is because it is women who give birth to children... All of us have sprung from the very beginning from the womb of a woman. (Pere (The Mother Energy), p 167)

There are many possible reasons why Pere’s stories are different from those that Best and Smith report, but it is interesting that they are different in such a predictable way. Men from a patriarchal world-view interpreted Io stories as showing a male supreme god, with other male figures as dominant. A woman raised in the culture from which these stories originated describes a genderless supreme god, a balance of power between the genders, and stresses the importance of females.

If the accounts written by Best and Smith do represent a distortion, then there are huge implications. The majority of accessible, english-language material on Māori cosmogony is either written by them or draws heavily from their work. Even tohunga writing on their own experiences and understanding of tikanga Māori have been influenced. For example, Teone Taare Tikao has clearly added Io to Ngāi Tahu traditions in order to fit with Te Whatahoro’s telling (Prendergast-Tarena, pp 28, 61). If our creation stories have been corrupted, then where can we look for guidance?

Other sources of information

Tikanga Māori is based on the values that have survived our tūpuna, handed down through oral literature. Our creation traditions are not the only literature that contain information about these values. Mahuika offers waiata, haka, whakataukī, as well as the names of hapū and whare tupuna as alternative sources of information (Mahuika, p 46). Interpretation of waiata, haka and whakataukī requires a competency beyond mine in te reo, and understanding of the cultural context and symbolism used. I am therefore unable to use these primary sources of information for this essay. The naming of hapū and whare tupuna is less problematic for me.

Buck claims Māori society privileges men over women to the extent that Leadership...was exercised by males, and primogeniture in the male line was the deciding factor in succession to chiefly rank. (Buck, cited in Mahuika, p 42). If so, then we can expect to see the names of these men, from whom hapū have inherited their mana, celebrated to the exclusion of women who offer them no such mana. Buck and Best admit there is the odd exception to naming after men (cited in Mahuika p 46), but Mahuika says the majority of Ngāti Porou (the iwi to which he belongs) senior hapū are named after women (Mahuika, p 47). Would Buck and Best see that whole iwi as an exception? Of the three iwi to which I whakapapa, one is named after a man (Kāi Tahu from Tahu-pōtiki) and one a woman (Kāti Māmoe from Whatu-māmoe) (I am ignorant of the gender of the eponymous Waitaha tupuna, Waitahanui). Is the naming of Kāti Māmoe another exception? The problem is, there are so many exceptions that immediately come to mind. When do we discard the rule? The fact that this idea persists for so long, in spite of obvious evidence to contradict it, shows that there is a desire to maintain it. Why?

My family knows of no Kāi Tahu rangatira wahine (despite Kāti Māmoe being named after a woman), while the books I’ve read give only the vaguest hints that Kāi Tahu women had any power at all. My rūnaka (Awarua) must have a male upoko-rūnaka (Morgan, 2009). Only one publication I have read claims Kāi Tahu women had power, Beattie’s Lifeways of the Southern Maori. Beattie was a Pākehā man who began recording Kāi Tahu stories as a boy. He conducted extensive ethnographic interviews with Kāi Tahu kaumātua in the first half of the twentieth century and his manuscripts were edited and published in 1994 by Anderson, a Kāi Tahu historian. Beattie states that the upoko-ariki of a tribe could be either male or female according to birth (Beattie, p 95). If this is true, why does Awarua allow only men to be upoko-rūnaka? Compare this with the text written by Carrington, another Pākehā ethnographer, published in 2008 (that Anderson co-edited), which contains several statements that only men had political power in Kāi Tahu (eg, Carrington, in Tau & Anderson, pp 32, 59). The editors give no indication that there is evidence disputing this, whereas they point out other areas where they believe Carrington is wrong. Anderson at least must be aware of Beattie’s statement. Why have Kāi Tahu historians not investigated this question more? Did they miss the importance of Beattie’s statement for an iwi that seems to have lost all memory of female political power?

I feel confused that, even while historians acknowledge this is an area where so much knowledge has been lost, there is not more interest in gender roles in tikanga Māori. Why isn’t there more questioning of the idea that women had no political power, more curiosity about why evidence of female leadership is often ignored by men writing about our traditions? I understand how European writers get it wrong, but what about Māori writers? Why have so many men writing about their own iwi or pan-Māori traditions ignored the contradictions and perpetuated these ideas? Are there other examples that show a similar effort by our own people to ignore or downgrade the importance of women?

Case study: the place of women in pōwhiri

The pōwhiri has in many ways come to represent the traditional in tikanga Māori, where compromises will not be permitted. The ritualistic observance of marae protocol ensures avoiding the wrath and retribution of the gods (Marsden, p 30). Rangihau says that Ngāi Tūhoe will make no concessions whatsoever in things that happen on their marae...if we keep this place absolutely sacrosanct then it will never lose its aura...its ethos (Rangihau, p 186). Perhaps here we should expect the place of wāhine to be most obvious.

Women clearly influence marae proceedings, both in the back and in the front. Women are as likely as men to fill most roles in the back (Mikaere (b), p 59). In front, women are responsible for karanga, they usually determine and lead the waiata, and have influence over the rest of the proceedings. Men are usually responsible for whaikōrero, and also have influence over the rest of the proceedings. But Mikaere states that the roles of men and women on marae seem to have become more sharply delineated and entrenched (Mikaere (b), p 113).

The pōwhiri begins with a karanga of a woman; the hui cannot proceed without this spiritual support and protection (Pere (Ako), p 26). Whereas karanga has been called the kōrero of women, and was often long and detailed (Jackson, 10/5/2008), this appears to have become the exception. Now, karanga are usually extremely short, covering the necessities and no more; it is not unusual for the karanga to be omitted altogether because no-one is willing or able. The karanga, the most potent sign of female power at pōwhiri, seems to have become desirable but unnecessary.

Waiata were usually chosen by women to suit the occasion and the speech, and they could also be used to cut a speaker off (Mikaere (b), p 63). Women skilled in waiata could compose pao on the spot to respond to a speaker. However, like the karanga, they no longer seem to be considered essential, with speakers sometimes finishing and sitting down without one (Mikaere (b), p 114), or leading their own waiata.

Whaikōrero is usually restricted to men.* The importance of speakers has been inflated with paepae; Sutherland talks about being upset when this special seat for the men appeared on her marae (Sutherland, p 126-7); some marae only provide chairs for the kaikōrero. The whaikōrero was traditionally restricted to skilled kaumātua, but there are now fewer men of this ability. When no-one appropriate can speak, whaikōrero rights are being accorded to men who would never have been able to speak in earlier times – young men, Pākehā men, men who are not fluent in the language – while Māori women continue to be excluded (Mikaere (b), p135). Contrast this with the karanga, which is simply left out if there is no-one appropriate to call. The message is that whaikōrero is an essential component of a pōwhiri, whereas karanga is not.

Of course power is not held by the speech-maker alone, he is only a representative (Mikaere (b), p 115). There are several obvious ways that women can and are heard at pōwhiri: kuia are sometimes clearly directing the speaker, and waiata and whakapohane can be used (Stirling, p 70). However, as well as the skill and knowledge needed (much of which has been lost), all of these require recognition of mana wahine (Smith, p 40). Many kuia still command this, but when these women pass, how many women will have the confidence to take their place, and how many men will be willing to acknowledge their mana?

It appears from this that even in pōwhiri, male roles have become inflated at the expense of female roles (Mikaere (b), p 114; Pere (Te Wheke), p 47). If there is no-one appropriate to karanga, the pōwhiri continues without one; skill, whakapapa and gender are all important in deciding who is appropriate. In contrast, I have never seen whaikōrero omitted from a pōwhiri (in my limited experience). When there has been no-one with appropriate skill or whakapapa to speak, the whaikōrero has still been given, in English, in German, by rangatahi or by Pākehā, as long as a man spoke. Clearly gender is considered the most important factor, more important than skill, mana or whakapapa. Is this because the whaikōrero is indispensable, so compromises are made, whereas the karanga is an optional add-on? Or is the whaikōrero seen as a formality with little spiritual significance, so ability and appropriateness of speaker is less important, whereas it would be dangerous to trust karanga to the unskilled? If so, why is the gender of the speaker so important in whaikōrero? If we can compromise on age, experience, language and whakapapa, why not on gender? I think our choices are simultaneously inflating and degrading the male role of whaikōrero. (Whereas the now common refusal of many Māori men to hongi women at pōwhiri is unambiguously degrading women; it can only be interpreted as a lack of respect for the mana of women (Ramsden, cited in Mikaere (b), p 135).)

Conclusion

It is clear that mana wahine has changed since European arrival. I am not qualified to unpack all that has happened and say what the rightful place of women is in tikanga Māori. The questioning and criticism of tikanga must come from an informed position and from within our own culture.

Maori leadership has got to work this through and deprogramme all that does not rightfully belong in our Iwi histories. Maori women... are the backbone of Maori society and that isn't only because of our ability to bear children. (Mead, cited in Mikaere (b), p 134-5)

I am hopeful that this will happen. But it is hard to ignore that, the effects of colonisation notwithstanding, the downplaying of mana wahine discussed in this essay has continued because some of us have allowed it to continue. Māori men cannot justify their oppression of Māori women on the basis that such oppression is traditional. They must...confront...that colonisation has made them collaborators with the colonisers against their own women (Mikaere (b), p 139). Whoever is unwilling to look honestly at what has happened to the mana and rangatiratanga of women in the last 200 years, has no right to talk about tino rangatiratanga.

ORAL SOURCES
Jackson, Moana, “The Laws of Ranginui and Papatūanuku”, Lecture given to Diploma of Māori Laws and Philosophy students. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki, 10 May 2008

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Beattie, James Herries, Traditional Lifeways of the Southern Maori. University of Otago Press in association with Otago Museum, Dunedin, 1994

Brown, Heni, “Heni Brown”, Ngā Mōrehu: The Survivors, edited by Judith Binney and Gillian Chaplin. Oxford University Press, Auckland, 1986

Buck, Peter, The Coming of the Māori. Whitcombe and Tombs, Wellington, 1958

Mahuika, Api, “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved”, Te Ao Hurihuri: Aspects of Maoritanga, edited by Michael King. Reed, Auckland, 1992

Manihera, Te Uira, “Foreward: Learning and Tapu”, Te Ao Hurihuri: Aspects of Maoritanga, edited by Michael King. Reed, Auckland, 1992

Marsden, Māori, The Woven Universe: Selected Writings of Rev. Māori Marsden. The Estate of Rev. Māori Marsden, 2003

Mead, Hirini Moko, Tikanga Māori: Living by Māori Values. Huia Publishers, Wellington, 2003

Mikaere (a), Annie, “Maori Women: Caught in the Contradictions of a Colonised Reality”. Waikato Law Review 125, 1994

Mikaere (b), Ani, The Balance Destroyed: The Consequences for Māori Women of the Colonisation of Tikanga Māori. The International Research Institute for Māori and Indigenous Education, jointly with Ani Mikaere, Auckland, 2003

New Zealand. Ministry of Justice, He Hīnātore ki te Ao Māori: A Glimpse into the Māori World. Ministry of Justice, Wellington, 2001

Pere, Rangimarie Rose, Ako: Concepts and Learning in the Maori Tradition. University of Waikato, Hamilton, 1982

Pere, Rangimarie Rose, “The Mother Energy”, Kaupapa New Zealand: Vision Aotearoa, edited by Witi Ihimaera. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington, 1994

Pere, Rangimarie Rose, Te Wheke: A Celebration of Infinite Wisdom. Akoako Global Learning, Gisborne, 1991

Rangihau, John, “Being Maori”, Te Ao Hurihuri: Aspects of Maoritanga, edited by Michael King. Reed, Auckland, 1992

Smith, Linda, “Maori women: Discourses, Projects and Mana Wahine”, Women and Education in Aotearoa 2, edited by Sue Middleton and Alison Jones. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington, 1992

Stirling, Amiria, and Anne Salmond, Amiria: The Life Story of a Maori Woman. Heinemann Reed, Auckland, 1976

Sutherland, Heni, “Heni Sutherland”, Ngā Mōrehu: The Survivors, edited by Judith Binney and Gillian Chaplin. Oxford University Press, Auckland, 1986

Tau, Rawiri Te Maire, Ngā Pikitūroa o Ngai Tahu: The Oral Traditions of Ngāi Tahu. University of Otago Press, Dunedin, 2003

Tau, Te Maire and Atholl Anderson (Editors), Ngāi Tahu: A Migration History: The Carrington Text. Bridget Williams Books in Association with Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu, Wellington, 2008

Tremewan, Christine (Translator and Editor), Traditional Stories from Southern New Zealand. Macmillan Brown Centre for Pacific Studies, University of Canterbury, Christchurch, 2002

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Jackson, Moana, “Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law”, Compiled in Law 1.6: Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law: Compilation of Readings and Resources. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Diploma in Māori Laws and Philosophy, Ōtaki, 2008

Morgan, Hana, Email interview with the author, November 2009

*There are accounts of women with enough mana speaking (Pere, Ako, p 27, Stirling, p 70), however this really does seem to be an exception. In the absence of men, one solution is for women to mihi to local groups (Sutherland, 128); in some areas during the World Wars women would whaikōrero, and some of those women retain the right to do so for life, but it is not extended to other women. (return to essay)

He poroporoāki

2011-05-21T18:50:00.002+12:00

I te Rāapa te 11 o Mātahi-ā-te-tau i hinga te poutokomanawa o tō mātou whare, a Bessie Hildebrand. E te whānau pani, kei te oha ki a koutou ko Keith, Jenny, John. He nui te pōuri, te mamae, ā, e ngau nei te aroha mō koutou. Kua moe noa ia i tōna moenga roa. Ka tukua atu tāku mihi mō tēnei rangatira.

E tangi hotu nei tō tupuna maunga, a Hananui.
Huihuia ngā pōkēao. Hiko ai te uira. Karawhiua ngā hau. Āki ai te marangai ki a Motu-pōhue.
Kātahi, ka mārire te hau, ka tae a Ahoroa, ka ura aua maunga.
E taua, kāore e kore ko ngā tohu ērā ā ōu tūpuna.

Ka tarutua iho te tini o roimata i te weherua pō ia nei.
Ko wai hei piki tūranga mōu, hei whakamauru mō mātou?
Kua hūtia te manawa aroha o te whānau nei—aue! Aue!
Kōrangirangi ana a manawa, nawe ana a ngakau.
Kia riro ko te matawaia o te kamo, ko te tārere o te roimata hei whakakite i te aroha ki a koe.
Ka tangi kau ko te mapu.

Kua haere koe i te ara whānui a Tāne. Kua hoki atu ki ngā ringa a Hine-nui-te-pō, kia noho tahi ai ki o tātou tūpuna.
Ā, moe mai rā e taua. Moe mai rā.

Kei Tua o te Pae—Kaupapa Māori research

2011-05-14T08:56:00.004+12:00

I was fortunate enough to get to most of the first day of Kei Tua o te Pae last week. This was a hui hosted by Te Wāhanga looking at the challenges of kaupapa Māori research in the 21st century. Much of the kōrero I caught was about complacency and comfortableness. These are great take to talk about, and we were lucky to have such awesome kaikōrero reflecting on that challenge in their own work. I could only make it to two of the key note speakers, but they gave me a heap to think about.

Jessica Hutchings laid it out in the opening session. To her, an important theme of kaupapa Māori research is staying on the margins, remaining critical and resistant.

Linda Smith talked about how kaupapa Māori developed out of struggle, the struggle for Māori ways of thinking to drive Māori education. She also stressed margins—working at the institutional edges to make spaces where kaupapa Māori can flourish. And the benefits of being irritable, keeping us passionate about this work.

Ani Mikaere reminded us that the creation of those spaces is just a starting point. We have research groups like Te Wāhanga, and institutions like Te Wānanga o Raukawa. The challenges now are to look critically at how we do scholarship, and to look critically at our understandings of tikanga and mātauranga.

Literature reviews are one example of a scholarship practice that we might want to abandon—because so much of the published literature about mātauranga Māori is dominated by Pākehā (or built from writings by Pākehā), it may be the worst place to start. By starting with a literature review we may actually be led away from the really interesting questions. This comes back to Linda Smith’s kōrero—we need to think about what counts as knowledge and what counts as a reliable source. She described a process where understanding develops from dialogue and relationships, rather than as a nugget that can be plucked from books or informants. It reminds me of a challenge Moana Jackson laid during a class discussion at Te Wānanga o Raukawa—to privilege indigenous sources, even if it means not citing ‘original’ sources (because much indigenous knowledge has been published by others, privileging original sources means continuing to ignore the contributions of indigenous peoples to knowledge).

Examples of tikanga that we might want to question and confront are those that have come to reflect the values of patriarchy and hierarchy, rather than the values of whakapapa, which Ani Mikaere describes as “intrinsically non-hierarchical”.

Although I missed most of the hui, what l saw of it made me happy. I am lucky enough to work at a wānanga in a research group with colleagues who aren’t afraid to question and confront conventional wisdom. What I saw at Kei Tua o te Pae confirms that there are many groups who are more afraid of complacency than they are of feeling uncomfortable. Whatever kaupapa Māori research is or will be, it is certainly flourishing.

Stopping a disaster before it happens

2011-04-12T17:28:00.001+12:00

Massive respect to those putting their (cold, wet) bodies on the line, and to those providing support to them, to defend our oceans and coast from deep sea drilling. Ka nui te mihi.

Morgan Godfery at Maui Street and Marty Mars at mars 2 earth are writing awesome posts on the government's response to these actions.

The rugby world cup waka pavilion

2011-04-08T18:23:00.002+12:00

This is a short post about the controversy around the waka pavilion that Ngāti Whatua have proposed “to help promote Maori culture and business during the Rugby World Cup” (Radio NZ news). The tone of the debate around the waka is very different to that about spending the other $265 million for promoting the world cup. Our media are embarrassing and predictable. Politicians behave opportunistically and immaturely because they want attention, unfortunately we also have mainstream media who don’t care whether a story is real or a beat up. Anti-Māori reactions are so easy to stir into something resembling a story. This is frustrating enough. It is particularly disgusting when Māori politicians use these opportunities to appeal to voters’ racism. Shane Jones, are you really that desperate?

What pisses me off most is that the immature way politicians and media behave takes space away from debating the more important issues that stories like this raise. There are issues around the waka pavilion, like there were around Te Papa’s pānui on the taonga Māori collection, that do need to be debated by Māori. Instead, we spend energy fending off racist and ignorant attacks.

Despite this, I’m still giving my two cents about the waka pavilion.

Rugby marketing is all into co-opting macho warrior images of Māori. The rugby world cup will see these images everywhere, re-enforcing a limiting and unhealthy idea of what it means to be Māori. If we are putting up our own symbols, it will be good to choose images that counter the hyper-masculine, dangerous and violent mainstream narrative. In 1994, Irihapeti Ramsden was questioning the use of waka tauā (in the sesquicentennial celebrations) as a primary symbol of Māori for similar reasons.

"How was the waka taua decision arrived at? Why were the symbols of war chosen to demonstrate the state of our race relations to the world? What actually happened was the powerful reinforcement of the natives versus civilisation argument.” (p 255 “Doing it for the mokopuna” in Ihimaera, Witi: Vision Aotearoa Kaupapa New Zealand. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington)

What have we learnt? The waka pavilion could be an opportunity for moving this discussion forward.

Hīkoi opposing the Marine and Coastal Areas bill

2011-03-15T20:06:00.003+13:00

The 2011 hīkoi opposing the Marine and Coastal Areas bill has started. The Māori Party claims that we who oppose the bill don't understand it. This post includes a bunch of links to places to get good analysis of the bill. If you are not sure why you should care, or which side of the fence you are on, have a look at these links, read up, and decide. If you agree that the bill is an act of colonisation, just like the 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act, then join the hīkoi to oppose it.

Prior to European arrival, all of the foreshore and seabed was in Māori control. If a hapū has never given up title to an area they are responsible for, then it is reasonable to expect that title remains with them. If you want to know how the Crown has led the New Zealand public to believe all of the foreshore and seabed is publicly owned, I discuss that history in a previous post.

The Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 was unjust because it gave the Crown title to all of the foreshore and seabed not already in private ownership, and removed the ability for Māori to test their ownership in court. The Marine and Coastal Areas bill is unjust because, although it restores the ability of Māori to test their ownership of the foreshore and seabed (albeit with an outrageously high test), it does not then allow them full ownership. As Carwyn Jones says:

”I find it strange that the new, statutory, 'customary marine title' only exists where a particular part of the foreshore and seabed has been exclusively used and occupied, and yet the title itself does not provide for such exclusive rights.” September 13, 2010.

Ngāti Kahungunu asked Moana Jackson to give his opinion on the bill. He has been providing regularly updated primers. The latest version is here. It is a short and easy to understand breakdown of the current version of the Marine and Coastal Areas bill, and all that is wrong with it. If you only read one explanation of the bill, this should be it.

Carwyn Jones is scathing of the select committee report:

”Instead of any detailed engagement with these important, and sometimes complex, issues, we have a one-page majority report that addresses the issues raised by over 5,000 submissions in seven sentences, and attaches material from the departmental report without analysis or comment.” February 18, 2011.

Anyone who makes it through my blog posts is obviously fine with reading. However, if you'd rather listen to analysis, Metiria Turei gives a searing speech on the Māori Party's role in the circumstances leading to the hīkoi against their bill here.

I hope to see you on the hīkoi.

Monday 14th March - Te Rerenga wairua to Kawakawa
Tuesday 15th March - Kawakawa to Auckland
Wednesday 16th March - Hikoi through Auckland
Thursday 17th March - Auckland to Tauranga
Friday 18th March - Te Puke - Rotorua
Saturday 19th March - Taupo to Hastings
Sunday 20th March - Palmerston North to Otaki
Monday 21st March - Otaki to Wellington
Tuesday 22nd March - Parliament House, Wellington

More details about where, why and how to join are on indymedia and here.

Update: Ana at Whenua Fenua Enua Vanua is posting regular updates on the progress of the hīkoi, as well as video footage.

The tapu of taonga and wāhine in a colonised land

2011-02-26T02:18:00.008+13:00

In late 2010, the media beat up reaction to a pānui from Te Papa about visiting the taonga Māori collection that they host. Among other things, the pānui invited hapū or menstruating women to arrange another time to visit. This essay was my response to the predictably ignorant reactions that were reported by the media.

"Māori women’s restriction from certain spaces (during menstruation and pregnancy) can be read not as exclusion, sub-ordination, inability and/or disability but as marking their sacredness and importance." (August, p 118)

In early October 2010, I was part of a group of Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa students who visited the taonga Māori collection at Te Papa Tongarewa. As always, several weeks before class, the Wānanga sent us readings and information, including a list of instructions from Te Papa for viewing the taonga. Many of the instructions are about the tapu of the taonga—no kai can be taken into collection rooms, women who are hapū or menstruating are invited to visit at another time, tamariki are not normally allowed, karakia will be said, and there is a wash basin outside. A few days after our visit, the radio news reported that feminists were angry that a pānui like this had been sent to staff from museums planning to visit the collection.

This essay provides an introduction to the issues raised by responses to the Te Papa pānui. I do not address whether I think the pānui from Te Papa solely represents a Māori worldview, that would be a much bigger project. This is a small essay that touches on several very large topics—tapu, the special place of women in te ao Māori, the role of taonga in te ao Māori, and sexism. Clearly, I cannot comprehensively cover any of these topics in such a short essay. Hopefully though, this essay will provide an overview of the issues as I understand them, and direction to better resources.

Some of the reaction to the Te Papa pānui has come from a misunderstanding by Pākehā, and probably by many Māori too, of the importance of women in te ao Māori. August’s 2005 paper (from which I took the opening quote of this essay) Māori women: bodies, spaces, sacredness and mana is particularly relevant. Likewise, the importance of taonga may be misunderstood. Tapsell’s paper The flight of Pareraututu: an investigation of taonga from a tribal perspective gives a thorough explanation of the relevance and use of taonga. The process of colonisation has profoundly affected our thinking about gender and especially the role of women. Many have worked hard to avoid introduced patriarchy becoming ingrained in Māori thinking. Anyone interested in the topic should for a start read Mikaere’s The balance destroyed: The consequences for Māori women of the colonisation of tikanga Māori.

I think most of the uproar around the Te Papa pānui is because it comes from a Māori worldview, and most New Zealanders are unused to being asked to consider cultural norms other than their own. Despite being indigenous to these islands, a Māori worldview and the tikanga that develop from it are foreign to most people now living here. Anyone who does not understand that worldview may find the pānui strange or even challenging. One way to understand a people’s culture is to look at their creation traditions (or religions). Religions aren’t simply handed to people—our tūpuna invented them. We are constantly re-inventing them in ways that keep them relevant, reflecting our values and our environment, so they both shape our culture and worldview and are shaped by them.

"Religions provide basic interpretive stories of who we are, what nature is, where we have come from and where we are going. This comprises a worldview of a society. Religions also suggest how we should treat other humans and how we should relate to nature. These values make up the ethical orientation of a society. Religions thus generate worldviews and ethics which underlie fundamental attitudes and values of different cultures and societies." (Tucker and Grim, p xvi)

(This does not mean that the Te Papa pānui is religious. There is a difference between religion and the worldviews, cultures or cultural practices that develop from those religions.)

To understand the Te Papa advisory we need to understand the concept of tapu, and the way it applies to both women and taonga.

Tapu

There are two aspects to tapu: the sacredness of each life, and restrictions for protection. Mikaere describes the first aspect,

"No individual stands alone: through the tapu of whakapapa, she or he is linked to other members of the whānau, hapū and iwi... Every person has a sacred connection to Rangi and Papa and to the natural world around them." (Mikaere (a), p 4)

Henare calls this 'intrinsic tapu' (Henare, pp 29-30) because everything is always tapu in this sense—we are born tapu and it cannot be removed. Jackson describes this as the major cohesive force in Māori life (Jackson, p 41).

The second aspect of tapu involves tapu used for political purposes. Henare calls this 'extensions of tapu', because it adds another layer to the intrinsic tapu.
Jackson describes the second aspect,

"In this sense, tapu was a specific restriction which could be placed on a person, an object or a piece of land, and so render it especially sacred as a type of protection or prohibition… The ritual of this process established a sacred protection or rite of prohibition which was secured by the sanction of the gods… the ritual linked the people and the event with an ancestral precedent. Any failure of the protection or breach of the prohibition would be due to human error and would be punished by ancestrally-defined sanctions." (Jackson, pp 41-42)

If it is sometimes necessary to impose restrictions using tapu, then a method must also be necessary to remove those restrictions. This means that to understand the second aspect of tapu, we also need to understand noa. While this meaning of tapu is something set apart as sacred, noa means a safe and unrestricted state—but still with the ‘intrinsic tapu’ intact. Whakanoa is the process of returning something to its normal state by removing the ‘extensions of tapu’.

Women have a significant role in these processes. Understanding that role is necessary to a discussion of Te Papa’s offer to hapū or menstruating women visiting the taonga Māori collection.

Te tapu o te wāhine

The importance of women in Māori creation traditions is immediately obvious to anyone who hasn’t already been blinded by misogyny (as the first ethnographers clearly were). As Mikaere explains:

"A central feature of Māori cosmogony is whakapapa, which binds humanity to the spiritual forces from which the world was created. Vital to the continuation of whakapapa are both the male and female elements. The female reproductive organs and the birthing process assume major significance throughout the creation stories." (Mikaere (b), pp 13-14)

From the perspective of whakapapa, there can be nothing more sacred than the birth process. Women therefore have a special importance. Pere points out,

"The first human was a woman. She was not formed by Tane, or any male god. She was from Papatuanuku... My old people said the reason why the first human was a woman is because it is women who give birth to children... All of us have sprung from the very beginning from the womb of a woman." (Pere, p 167)

This does not mean that women are only important for their ability to give birth—but it does mean that our importance is elevated. The power to give life, to give birth to future generations, comes from Papatūānuku, the first mother. Nothing in te ao Māori is more important than ensuring the continuation of whakapapa.

Mikaere again:

"The story of Hine-nui-te-pō and Māui also encapsulates a theme which features throughout the Māori creation stories: the awesome power of female sexuality. It is implicit in the womb symbolism of Te Kore, Te Pō and in the birth of Papatūānuku and Ranginui's children to Te Ao Mārama. It becomes explicit with the first act of sexual intercourse between Tāne and Hineahuone. And in Māui's encounter with Hine-nui-te-pō, the potency of the female sexual organs is unassailable. The passage through which each of us passes to enter Te Ao Mārama is the same passage through which each of us must pass on our inevitable journey back to Te Pō. The process which brings each of us into being brought the world into being. Our very existence is centred around the sexual power of women." (Mikaere (b), p 23 )

This power allows women to whakanoa, to remove the tapu from people, places or things and make them safe again. As Binney describes: They drew the dangerous life-destroying elements of tapu into themselves and then sent them back to their point of origin, that is, to the world of gods and the spirit forces (Binney, p 26). Because the tapu is drawn into the whare tangata, only women who are not yet sexually active, or who are past the age of giving birth perform these rituals.

According to Henare, This is the mana and the tapu of women (Henare, p 20). Jenkins describes it as an indication of the supremacy of women’s spiritual power, because whakanoa allows control over the organisation of rituals (Jenkins, cited in Mikaere (a), p 6). Mikaere explains:

"The power of women to whakanoa is clearly of vital importance, for it establishes their ability to traverse the spiritual boundaries of tapu and noa, thereby nurturing and protecting communities… It is argued that this may be only half of the full picture. It may be that women’s powers in fact allowed movement both to and from the state of tapu – in other words, that women possessed not only the ability to whakanoa, but also the power to whakatapu. (Mikaere (a), p 6)

As Mikaere points out, the language of menstruation, childbirth and mothering demonstrates their significance and centrality—atua means both the ancestor gods and menstrual blood; hapū is both pregnancy and a large political group; whenua is both the placenta and land; whānau is both birth and the extended family; ūkaipō refers to nurturing both in terms of breastfeeding a baby, and in belonging to land (Mikaere (b), p 32; Ministry of Justice, p 183). Protecting this power, and the health of future generations, is at the heart of tikanga around menstruation, pregnancy and childbirth: manaakitia te hunga e whakawairua mai ana i nga koopu o nga whaea – protect the spiritual essence and life force taking place within the wombs of their mothers (cited in August, p 120). These tikanga include women avoiding urupā and food gathering areas at times when they are menstruating or pregnant.

Te tapu o te taonga

The significance of taonga in tikanga Māori has often been misunderstood and underestimated. Many non-Māori assume that taonga are the same as heirlooms—hardly surprising when my Reed dictionary translates taonga as simply property, treasure, apparatus, accessory (equipment), thing (Ryan, p 275). Taonga are much more than this and have an important role in tikanga Māori. This cannot be understood from a few words of explanation.

According to Tapsell,

"taonga is a powerful and all-embracing Maori concept that defies explanation by simply providing a list of written examples. For Maori, if an item, object or thing is described as he taonga it immediately elicits a strong emotional response based on ancestral experiences, settings, and circumstances." (Tapsell, p 326)

This can only be understood through what Mikaere has called the ‘whakapapa imperative’ (Mikaere (c), p 3):

"Part and parcel of looking at the world through the prism of whakapapa is the imperative to treasure those physical manifestations and expressions of ancestors that connect us to our origins and enable us to project ourselves with confidence into the future." (Mikaere (c), p 7)

Tapsell talks of three essential elements of taonga—mana, tapu and kōrero (Tapsell, pp 327-329). Taonga possess mana through their associations with tūpuna; this grows over time as the taonga pass through generations, accumulating history. Tapu places restrictions on taonga to protect their mana, and the greater the mana the greater the tapu; this is managed by kaitiaki who both care for the taonga, and ‘perform’ it at appropriate events. The kōrero is the iwi traditions, stories and histories that become attached to the taonga (Royal, p 66). Tapsell considers this the most important element, because the kōrero explains the meaning of the taonga and ensures that the mana and tapu are understood. He compares the kōrero to a cloak that envelops the taonga, and allows it to be treated and performed appropriately. Tapsell argues that the importance of taonga is their ability to collapse time, allowing descendants to re-live the events of past generations… [which] allows ancestors and descendants to be fused back into a powerful, single genealogical entity (Tapsell, p 330). This is a way that knowledge from tūpuna can be understood by present generations.

All taonga are directly associated with both ancestors and land (Tapsell, p 331). The statement by Mikaere that taonga are physical manifestations of ancestors can be understood in at least two ways—that they are physical objects made with the hands and ideas of our tūpuna, and so represent the mana and tapu of those tūpuna; or, that taonga actually possess the wairua of tūpuna, they are tūpuna. Each of these understandings is true for different taonga. Tapsell explains that wairua is one of the ways taonga may communicate knowledge from tūpuna—experienced as ihi, wehi and wana—even if the kōrero is no longer known (Tapsell, pp 330-331).

Many taonga held in museums have little or no kōrero with them. They may have been given to the museum by people who found them, for example when exploring caves, the coast, or on building sites. Or the kōrero may simply not have been passed on with the taonga.

Colonisation and taonga

Colonisation is relevant to this discussion in two main ways. The first is that colonisation attempted to destroy the structures of Māori society including mātauranga Māori, and the tikanga based on it. The second is that the coloniser has built a relationship with Māori that is dominating and abusive. The Crown (and many Pākehā New Zealanders) appears blind to the generosity and goodwill that Māori continue to display to them—they are succeeding only in feeding mistrust and resentment among Māori.

Whenever two cultures meet there will be cultural exchange and effects. When one people colonise another, there is a lack of balance in this process. The colonising group expects the people they meet to change, to adopt their culture, and is not prepared to do the same themselves. According to Linda Smith,

"By the nineteenth century colonialism not only meant the imposition of Western authority over indigenous lands, indigenous modes of production and indigenous law and government, but the imposition of Western authority over all aspects of indigenous knowledges, languages and cultures." (Linda Smith, p 64)

This imposition will occur through force, but it will also occur through undermining indigenous authority, and corrupting indigenous knowledge—by selective education and relentless cultural imperialism. As Said explains,

"The power to narrate, or to block other narratives from forming and emerging, is very important to culture and imperialism, and constitutes one of the main connections between them." (Said, p xiii)

Imperialism seeks to destroy other cultures, to assimilate those people into the colonising culture. In New Zealand, this involved missionaries and Crown working together. Missionaries were teaching a new religion, and attempting to shame Māori into giving up their beliefs and culture. The Crown supported this work, attempting to suppress any expressions of Māori culture using laws such as the Tohunga Suppression Act, and policies such as stopping Māori children from speaking te reo Māori in school. These attempts were ultimately unsuccessful, but they have had a huge effect—most Māori are more familiar with Pakehā culture than mātauranga Māori. The connections and knowledge of present generations with our tūpuna are weaker than they would have been in the past; and likewise, our connections with and knowledge of our taonga are weaker.

Europeans brought more than imperialism, they also brought death. Within 100 years of European arrival, the Māori population fell from upwards of 200 000 to 42 000 (Durie, pp 29-31; the 200 000 figure is a conservative estimate, other estimates range from 100 000 to 500 000). Pākehā have suggested the Māori population was in decline prior to European arrival. As Mikaere argues though, this pattern of massive mortality in indigenous populations as a consequence of European colonisation was well known by the 1700s: The Crown understood only too well the consequences of European contact for a previously isolated population such as Māori (Mikaere (d), p 3). High and indiscriminate mortality meant that knowledge, including both mātauranga and tikanga Māori, was not reliably passed from one generation to the next as it had been in the past. Those whānau were then more vulnerable to colonial cultural imperialism, which included individualism and patriarchy.

The Crown was intent on breaking down Māori collectivism in order to get at Māori land. Individualism and individual ownership were enforced in many ways, not least of all through the Native Land Court, which proved to be an irrepressible agent in the imposition of non-Maori notions of ownership onto ‘Maori land’ (Williams, p 56). The crisis created by massive mortality made this task easier. Taonga are closely connected to whenua (Tapsell, p 333), just as land is a tūpuna and cannot be owned neither can taonga (Tapsell, p 362). As Māori relationships with the land were upset, so too were relationships with taonga. Many taonga were transferred with land, while others were sold out of desperation for money when land, the economic base, was gone.

It is important to understand that colonisation is ongoing, and that it has ongoing effects on the relationship between Māori and Pākehā. A Māori worldview has been (literally) demonised, re-interpreted, and this interpretation battered at will. After centuries of abuse, many Māori resent and distrust any actions by the Crown that affect them. And like the violent partner in many abusive relationships, the Crown (and many Pākehā) cannot understand why they are constantly met with this negative attitude. When confronted with Māori cultural expectations, many Pākehā respond with indignation, revealing that cultural imperialism is still operating. The Crown was not successful in cultural genocide, but they did succeed in turning an opportunity for cultural exchange and synergy into a festering cultural division, with one side defensive and willfully ignorant of history, and the other understandably mistrustful and antagonistic.

Colonisation and women

"The process of en-gendering descriptions of the Other has had very real consequences for indigenous women in that the ways in which indigenous women were described, objectified and represented by Europeans in the nineteenth century has left a legacy of marginalisation within indigenous societies as much as within the colonizing society." (Linda Smith, p 46)

Mikaere comprehensively covers this topic (Mikaere (b); also Mikaere (a), (e); Linda Smith; Andrea Smith writing about colonisation in North America), and I have written on it previously and don’t want to re-cover that ground. To summarise this work, tikanga Māori stresses gender balance (as discussed above), and female sexuality is consistently honoured (Mikaere (a), p 9); whereas the colonising culture is fundamentally misogynist (this is indisputable: the colonists came from an explicitly Christian culture where the creation stories are overwhelmingly patriarchal, and the laws that the colonists brought were undeniably misogynist). The introduction of patriarchy has been not just a consequence of colonisation, but also a tool of colonisation (Mikaere (a), Andrea Smith, pp 7-33).

One of the many tragedies of colonisation is that tikanga which have developed to acknowledge the sacredness and importance of women have been interpreted by others as doing the opposite. I regularly hear statements from Pākehā men that Māori culture is inherently sexist (which at the same time implies that Pākehā culture is not). The gendered roles and responsibilities within te ao Māori have been seen by Europeans through a lens of patriarchy.

That Europeans were incapable of recognising female power in Māori society is clear in their interpretation of women as inferior and even evil (eg Best, cited in Mikaere (a), p 12), and female sexuality as distasteful and destructive (eg Biggs and Heuer, both cited in Mikaere (a), p 12). Mikaere discusses the perverse conclusions that ethnographers reached in order to explain the power that Māori associated with women’s sexuality. Best and Jean Smith wrote that the power of women to whakanoa lay in the ability of their sexual organs to pollute or contaminate tapu by repelling atua (Mikaere (a), p 12), and Best defines tapu to mean unclean when associated with women (Best, cited in Mikaere (a), p 13). None of this is consistent with the beautiful language of menstruation, childbirth and breastfeeding discussed above. But the concepts held in te reo Māori are not accessible to a population that is ignorant of that language, whereas the writings of Pākehā ethnographers are. It is not surprising that many New Zealanders are more familiar with the more accessible, but clearly warped, conclusions of people like Elsdon Best.

Te Papa Taonga Māori Collection

And so we return to a discussion of the furore over Te Papa suggesting that menstruating or hapū women arrange another time to visit the taonga Māori collection. In early November, I spoke to Moana Parata, one of the kaitiaki of the collection, and asked for some background to this suggestion (Parata, 2/11/2010).

Moana has been with the taonga Māori collection since she started work at the National Museum in Buckle Street; when the collection moved to Te Papa, she went with them. The collection is maintained according to tikanga Māori. When Moana started at Buckle Street, Bessie Walters and Betty Rewi were kaitiaki of the collection, and were responsible for maintaining the tikanga. Because of the history and tapu of taonga (as described above), the collection is treated as an urupā. Karakia are said in the morning and when leaving, there is no food or drink in the collection rooms, women do not work with the taonga when menstruating or pregnant, and children can only visit with elders. These tikanga have not changed in the time she started working with the collection. There are thousands of taonga in the collection, many of which will never go into the general exhibition area. There are tikanga when taonga go into the public area, which includes asking permission of their people and karakia.

Moana sees the tikanga as a health and safety issue; to her—reflecting a Māori worldview—the tikanga are natural, respectful and keep herself and others safe. Tikanga of the collection are explained to groups before they arrive at Te Papa. Until recently, the explanation has been verbal, giving group organisers the opportunity to ask questions, lessening the chance of misunderstandings and offense. Moana spoke about the difficulty of communicating the tikanga in writing, the problem of explaining the meaning and reasons to people who may know little or nothing of mātauranga Māori. Even with the opportunity to ask questions, people are occasionally angry about the tikanga. This is usually resolved either with more discussion, or when people enter the collection rooms and experience the taonga. Recently, written guidelines have been sent to groups. Moana believes the complaint to the media is as a result of the decision to send the guidelines in writing rather than to discuss them verbally with visitors.

A newspaper successfully stirred up interest by asking a feminist blogger for comment on the guidelines, then printing the story with an outrageous headline (Anger at Te Papa ban on pregnant women), and an outrageous quote (It’s fair enough for people to engage in their own cultural practices… but the state shouldn’t be imposing those practices on other people). Responses were predictable (each time I read the above quote, I am again shocked by it, and struggle not to write an essay about those few words).

At the heart of the issue is most New Zealanders’ ignorance of both cultural imperialism and Māori culture. I agree with Moana that if the tikanga had been communicated more effectively, there may have been no complaint—but equally if more New Zealanders understood anything of the indigenous culture of these islands, there would have been no need for better communication. If more New Zealanders understood that the reason they know so little of Māori culture is because the Crown has spent a couple of centuries trying to destroy it, they may be more sympathetic to a Māori worldview that they don’t understand. If more New Zealanders understood that representations of Māori culture have been distorted beyond recognition, they may not jump to uncharitable judgments based on what they think they know. And if more New Zealanders understood that respecting a culture means respecting the parts that don’t make sense to them, not just the parts that do, they may come to recognise their own part in cultural imperialism.

Conclusion

This essay glosses over a lot of complicated issues, and I admit it was too ambitious to try to cover all this ground. I have attempted to give some understanding of tapu especially as it relates to women and taonga—but of course none of this can really be understood without already understanding a Māori worldview. And this is the real issue, while Māori must understand a European worldview and law to survive in this land, colonisation has meant that very few people have any understanding of mātauranga Māori, or, in fact, of colonisation. Whenever an issue requires some understanding, whether it be the significance of te reo Māori, or kaitiakitanga, or whatever, the ignorance of most New Zealanders makes dialogue impossible. And thanks again to colonisation, this creates a problem not for those who are ignorant, but for Māori. Māori must repeatedly start from the beginning and attempt to explain their whole culture—this occurs in conversations, the media, court hearings, tribunal hearings. At some point, tauiwi need to take some responsibility for understanding the indigenous culture, and for understanding how their ignorance contributes to cultural imperialism, to Māori perspectives being marginalised and foreign in their own land.

That aside, this essay reminded me of the beauty of the concepts in te reo Māori around women’s reproductive cycles. This reminds me of the necessity to become more fluent in te reo rangatira. As Moana Parata commented, this is about our reo, because there’s just no such thing as crossing over (Parata, 2/11/2010). The reo holds the mātauranga, and without the mātauranga, the tikanga are only arbitrary rules.

ORAL SOURCES
Parata, Moana (2/11/2010) Interview with the author, Te Papa Tongarewa, Wellington

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
August, Wikitoria (2005) “Māori women: Bodies, spaces, sacredness and mana”. New Zealand Geographer 61

Binney, Judith (1986) Ngā Mōrehu: The Survivors. Edited by Judith Binney and Gillian Chaplin. Oxford University Press, Auckland

Durie, Mason (2005) Ngā Tai Matatū: Tides of Māori Endurance. Oxford University Press, Melbourne

Henare, Manuka (1988) Nga Tikanga me nga ritenga o te ao Maori: Standards and foundations of Maori society. Royal Commission on Social Policy 3 (1): Future Directions

Jackson, Moana (1988) The Māori and the Criminal Justice System, A New Perspective: He Whaipaanga Hou, Part II. New Zealand. Department of Justice, Wellington

Mikaere (b), Ani (2003) The Balance Destroyed: The Consequences for Māori Women of the Colonisation of Tikanga Māori. The International Research Institute for Māori and Indigenous Education, (jointly with) Ani Mikaere, Auckland

Mikaere (e), A. (1994) “Maori Women: Caught in the Contradictions of a Colonised Reality” Waikato Law Review 125

New Zealand. Ministry of Justice (2001) He Hīnātore ki te Ao Māori: A Glimpse into the Māori World. Ministry of Justice, Wellington

New Zealand Herald (12/10/2010) “Anger at Te Papa ban on pregnant women”

Pere, Rangimarie Rose (1994) “The Mother Energy” Kaupapa New Zealand: Vision Aotearoa. Edited by Witi Ihimaera. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington

Royal, Charles (2007) Matauranga Māori and Museum Practice: A Discussion Version 4. Te Papa National Services – Te Paerangi. www.mkta.co.nz

Ryan, PM (1997) The Reed Dictionary of Modern Māori. Reed Books

Said, Edward W. (1994) Culture & Imperialism. Vintage, London

Smith, Andrea (2005) Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide. South End Press, Cambridge MA

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai (1999) Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Zed Books and University of Otago Press, London and Dunedin

Tapsell, Paul (1997) “The flight of Pareraututu: An investigation of taonga from a tribal perspective” Journal of Polynesian Society 106(4)

Tucker, Mary Evelyn and John A.Grim (2001) "Series Foreword" Indigenous Traditions and Ecology: The Interbeing of Cosmology and Community. Edited by John A. Grim. Center for the Study of World religions, Harvard Divinity School, Cambridge MA

Williams, David V (1999) Te Kooti Tango Whenua: The Native Land Court 1864-1909. Huia Publishers, Wellington

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Mikaere (a), Ani (2000) "Patriarchy as the ultimate divide and rule tactic: The assault on tikanga Māori by Pākehā Law" Paper presented at Mai i te Ata Hāpara conference, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki

Mikaere (d), Ani (2008) “Three million strikes and still not out: the crown as the consummate recidivist” Paper presented at the Māori Criminal Justice Colloquium, Te Ao Tara Aitū ki te Ara Maha: From the World of Calamity to the Path of Clarity, Napier

Mikaere (c), Ani (2006) “Whakapapa and Taonga: Connecting the Memory” Paper presented at Te Puna Maumahara: Rōpū Tuku Iho Repositories conference, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki

The Māori Party and tino rangatiratanga

2011-02-07T12:41:00.005+13:00

The argument between Harawira and the other Māori Party MPs has inspired me to write a post about the problems of Māori parties, and the problems I have with the direction the Māori Party has chosen in this election term. This is not intended to be critical of the Māori Party caucus or any individuals within it. I see the pressures they have been put under. I know I don't have all the answers, I hope that this essay is useful.

I’ve held off criticising the Māori Party until now. At the time the Māori Party formed, there was so much optimism among the people I knew, it would have been rude and unnecessarily self-righteous to be critical. Additionally, the Māori Party was certain to get a whole heap of criticism that they didn’t deserve from people who don’t understand the difference between white supremacy movements versus movements for indigenous worldviews, issues and experiences to be included in decision making. I thought the Māori Party deserved a chance. Having said that, it is essential to be critical. Now seems like a perfect time to think about the problems in having a Māori party, and strategies that I think would keep a Māori party relevant and useful to the decolonisation project.

Problems

The Māori Party and tino rangatiratanga

I believe the existence of the Māori Party within government damages the struggle for tino rangatiratanga. By agreeing to work within the parliamentary system without speaking against it, especially within government, the Māori Party gives legitimacy to that system. They show that the coloniser can accommodate tangata whenua without having to give up any power. We are simply another minority partner like ACT. An amazing protest movement, pregnant with potential, has been turned into a prop for the status quo. Symbolically, the same has happened with the tino rangatiratanga flag—it has gone from a symbol of Māori resistance to one of national pride and unity under the current system.

The Māori Party is now positioned where they say they want to be, in government. This puts them between Māori people and the government. The Māori Party confuses Māori by selling us National Party policy, like private prisons, subsidies for polluters, and foreshore and seabed legislation. They tell us we can’t see the bigger picture, and refuse to explain it to us. They diffuse our dissent—instead of fighting the government for their anti-Māori policies, we are arguing with our whanaunga in the Māori Party, who now appear to be on the side of the Crown.

This gives the National Party the moral high ground—they have spoken to the Māori Party and the iwi leaders who were referred to them, they have made concessions to the Māori Party and the iwi leaders. They believed in good faith that these people represent Māori, what more can we expect of them?

The Māori Party argues that by being in government, they are able to influence the decisions that are being made. They have won some symbolic victories, such as a review of the Foreshore and Seabed Act (which told us what we already know, and doesn't appear to have resulted in any real gains), signing on to the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (which Key immediately said is non-binding and won't make any difference to the government's approach to Māori issues). Whānau Ora is the only real victory I see that has come from a Māori Party agenda (and I hope it is hugely successful).

It looks as if the Māori Party is bogged down with fighting for small concessions. I'm not hearing anything of the Māori Party agenda, their visions for the future. It looks like they are only reacting to Key's agenda. This risks turning the fight for recognition as tangata whenua, into one for consideration as just another special interest group. Instead of fighting for ideals, acting as our mouthpieces in parliament, the Māori Party is stuck haggling to make government policy less bad (at least, I assume that’s what they do. It's hard to tell when they do so much that looks like National Party PR). Small concessions do nothing to inspire Māori—it reinforces the message that this is all we can hope for and all that we are worth. Whatever tino rangatiratanga means to each of us, no amount of National Party concessions is going to get us there.

The Māori Party and kaupapa Māori

Representative democracy is a system where individuals are elected by popular vote to represent a portion of the population in decision making for a period of time. Elections are the only way representatives are accountable for the decisions they make. The system can be described as top-down, because information and power are concentrated with the few representatives, who make decisions for the people. By contrast, kaupapa Māori is a participatory system of decision making, meaning everyone affected by an issue can be part of deciding what to do. Nothing is decided by popular vote, instead decisions are made by consensus, allowing minority views to be included in outcomes. Rangatira are directly and immediately accountable to their whanaunga, and cannot make decisions without their support.

Recently, many people have been criticising the way decisions have been made by the Māori Party, and the direction that they are heading (e.g. Annette Sykes discussed the role of Iwi Leaders, Moana Jackson looked at the National Party’s Marine and Coastal Areas Bill, and Harawira has asked questions from within). The Māori Party strategy is explained by their desire to remain part of the government. At the same time, the Māori Party claims to be kaupapa driven. I think it would be impossible to operate as part of the government in a system of representative democracy while remaining kaupapa Māori. The Māori Party are receiving criticism because they have strayed from kaupapa Māori, and are now operating as any other political party within parliament.

In order to support the government, the Māori party is making decisions on timeframes set by the National Party. To a large extent, the timeframe determines how much involvement the public can have in those decisions. As shown by the emissions trading scheme and the Marine and Coastal Areas bill, the Māori Party is agreeing to timeframes that cannot possibly allow Māori to have any meaningful participation. If decisions are not coming from the people, then the process is not kaupapa driven, no matter how politically expedient the Māori Party think their decisions are.

Another aspect of kaupapa Māori is that it is always clear who someone is speaking on behalf of and accountable to. This is not true of the Māori Party—it is unclear who their MPs are mandated to speak for, and they appear to only be accountable to each other outside elections.

Is there a role for a Māori party?

There are certainly ways that a Māori political party can be useful to the tino rangatiratanga movement. Political parties get funding for research and organising, they get media attention, and they get access to people and places most of us don’t. All of these are fantastic resources for the movement. But there are really important things that a Māori party would need to do that are different from what the Māori Party is currently doing. Many of my suggestions correspond to those already made by Harawira in the Sunday Star Times.

the message of tino rangatiratanga is important—with a clear and positive vision (or visions), a Māori party can inspire and motivate us to join and continue struggling. It can also educate tauiwi about what this means.
a Māori party must be guided by kaupapa Māori. Kaupapa will help the party make decisions that advance tino rangatiratanga.
a Māori party needs to be focused on the long term. Decolonisation is not a short term project, Māori have been fighting colonisation for generations. Anything that can be achieved in a single election term can be overturned in the next. All short term potential gains need to be checked against the long term goals of tino rangatiratanga.
I agree with Harawira that a Māori party has to loudly fight any policies that are bad for Māori. If we send them to parliament, they need to be our champions in parliament. Turia’s unwavering opposition to Labour’s foreshore and seabed bill was inspirational, likewise Harawira’s opposition to National’s bill. We need this. We need people who show that we are worth fighting for.
a Māori party needs to remain part of the movement—this means it needs our strong and critical support. Parliament is its own world, removed from the people, removed from te ao Māori. Those in parliament need advisors to keep them safe: whanaunga, activists, kaumātua, visionaries, rangatahi, academics. They need regular time away from parliament to be immersed again in the world where the rest of us live—not in their offices or ministerial cars, but in our homes, our marae, our sports clubs and hui.
like Harawira, I believe that any Māori party must spend a good deal of its time on the road talking to Māori. Not only will this allow the party’s policy to be driven by the people, but the party can also contribute to relationships among Māori. They can help build kotahitanga.
I also agree with Harawira that a Māori party will voice diverse opinions. There is no reason why it shouldn’t. Kaupapa Māori decision making includes listening to the variety of voices and working together to find solutions that will endure.

All of these points suggest that a Māori party working according to kaupapa Māori, and working towards visions of tino rangatiratanga, will not be in government. A Māori party’s decisions must be accountable to Māori people, not to a coalition agreement. The Green Party has shown that with a strong vision much can be achieved from outside government.

Conclusion

Harawira’s suggestions for the future of the Māori Party seem about right to me. Many Māori—activists, academics, rangatira, kaumātua, rangatahi—have also been increasingly confused by and critical of the direction the Māori Party has been heading in this electoral term. It is helpful to have someone in the caucus speaking frankly to the rest of us about what is happening, and it is heartening that someone in the caucus is being reflective.

Supporting the government was always a dangerous path for the Māori Party, requiring that the two party leaders be immersed in parliament, with the risk that they would become isolated from their people and the kaupapa. I believe this asks too much of them, and is the reason the party appears to have lost its way. Māori politicians need time away from parliament, me hoki ki ngā maunga kia purea e ngā hau o Tāwhirimātea, and they need support when they are in Wellington. In order for a Māori party to advance tino rangatiratanga, it must be careful where it positions itself. If it is within government, or not vocally opposed to government, it becomes a tool for assimilation. In my opinion, no amount of small concessions can balance that. Māori are not a special interest or minority group, Māori are tangata whenua. I don’t want to be consulted, or get some set of special and superficial rights. I want a completely different system.

A Māori party can help us move towards tino rangatiratanga, but only if they know exactly what they are there for, only if we can keep our politicians safe from the pressures they will be under, and only if they are clear that the current parliamentary system is illegitimate.

Māori Party politicians behave like politicians

2011-01-19T19:17:00.002+13:00

The response of the Māori Party to perceived criticisms from Hone Harawira appears both arrogant and desperate. Te Ururoa Flavell has lodged a complaint with the Māori Party National Council. The complaint relates to an article Crunch time for Maori grumbles in the Sunday Star Times last weekend. His complaint is supported by Tariana Turia, Pita Sharples and Rahui Katene. The Council is seeking legal advice from Mai Chen, whose comments to Radio New Zealand imply that the Māori Party is considering expelling Harawira.

Harawira's article was surprisingly diplomatic. His article is balanced, thoughtful and positive. He discusses where the Māori Party has come from, their achievements so far, the problems they are currently facing, and where he thinks they should be focusing their efforts for the election this year. I think most Māori Party voters would agree with his analysis.

According to Harawira, the Māori Party's problem is its relationship with National, which links it to “anti-worker, anti-beneficiary and anti-environment (and therefore anti-Maori) legislation”. Before the Māori Party confidence and supply agreement with the National Party, the two parties voted the same way 30% of the time, now they vote together 60% of the time. Either the National Party has become a lot more pro-Māori, or the Māori Party has become less. High profile examples, such as the emissions trading scheme and the Marine and Coastal Areas bill, suggest that it is the Māori Party that has shifted—as Harawira implies.

As far as representative democracy goes, his suggestions are positive and reasonable. The Māori Party should:

represent their constituency
fight for what they want, not what they think they can get
oppose policies that are bad for Māori
oppose the Marine and Coastal Areas bill
build better relationships with the Green Party and the Labour Party
encourage diversity within the Māori Party
get back on the road and talk to the people

I am interested to know what it is in Harawira's analysis that Flavell mā are so offended by. If they had been listening, they would have already heard much stronger criticisms of the Party's direction from their members and past members. Perhaps they trust National and the Iwi Leaders Forum to tell them what is best for Māori. Perhaps they spend too much time trying to shut down dissent, and not enough time listening to their constituents.

I am reminded of these words of Freire (Pedagogy of the Oppressed): "In a situation of manipulation, the Left is almost always tempted by a 'quick return to power,' forgets the necessity of joining with the oppressed to forge an organization, and strays into an impossible 'dialogue' with the dominant elites. It ends by being manipulated by these elites, and not infrequently itself falls into an elitist game, which it calls 'realism.'"

This is where I think the Māori Party are at—more concerned with building relationships with those in power, whether the National Party or Māori elites, while Harawira is the only MP who seems serious about maintaining relationships with Māori people. Whose interests are the Māori Party serving? Who are they representing? Who do they expect to vote for them? If they think Harawira is their biggest problem, they really are out of touch.

Defining Māori

2011-01-11T17:10:00.005+13:00

This is another rough draft which still needs a lot of work. The connections are clear in my head, but they haven't made it onto the page yet. It has come out of discussions with several friends about our identity as Māori women. I have learnt a lot about myself from listening to Rouge, Zac, Sarsha, Kat, Hana and Pip. I also need to thank Leah Whiu and Moana Jackson for helping me to understand what it was I was trying to say. And Kirsty for listening to me explore these ideas, and for comments on an earlier draft.

Introduction

I feel conflicted about my identity as Māori, and I know many other people feel similarly about their Māori identity. Why is this? I’m certain it isn’t for the reasons of previous generations, when some Māori had been made to feel so much shame in their heritage that they invented other ancestries, claiming southern European or other origins. So why is it then? Why are so many of us uncertain of our standing as Māori? In this essay, I explain it as an effect of colonisation, and show how it can affect the futures we are able to imagine.

Colonisation invented a story of who Māori are: it made Māori a race, and made up a limited set of characteristics for that race. These stereotypes are not controlled by us (Māori), they limit us, and they serve the purposes of ongoing cultural imperialism. They make us uncomfortable in our own skins and on our own land. They are used to blame us for the problems created by colonisation. It is essential that we develop our own answers to the question of what it means to be Māori.

I should first explain that I have very good reasons to be uncertain about my ethnic identity. I was adopted by my Pākehā family at birth, I am often read as Pākehā, and I didn’t even know for sure that I have Māori whakapapa until I was 33 and managed to track down my birth father. Until recently, my experience of being Māori was never knowing how to answer questions about my ethnicity, and trying not to care what the answer was so I wouldn’t feel disappointed or fake if I was wrong. In a society that is so monoculturally Pākehā, this meant being Pākehā—which means I didn’t have to experience much racist crap, and I will always benefit from white privilege. I feel guilt because this means I’ve had an easy ride. At the same time, it hasn’t been a joy ride. I was asked if I am Māori regularly enough that I knew I wasn’t completely passing as Pākehā. It didn’t matter how many times my parents said they had been guaranteed I was Pākehā, other people seemed unconvinced. It was unsettling to know that I didn’t completely fit the box I was supposed to be in, and yet I couldn’t choose another one.

But my insecurity is far from unique, and my personal history doesn't explain why I still feel conflicted. What are the sources of conflict in my and others’ identity as Māori? Why do I feel almost apologetic when I say I am Māori? It isn’t because I am ashamed of what it means to be Māori; it’s the opposite. I am not Māori enough. Being culturally Pākehā, I feel like an imposter—or as Te Arawa said to Tipene O’Regan, a Pākehā with a whakapapa (cited in O’Regan, p 54). I am too pale, too urban, too schooled in Pākehātanga, too middle-class, too vegan, too kuare, too geeky, and as smart as I think I am, I cannot speak te reo. I can’t sing, I don’t play sport, I don’t eat meat or seafood, I don’t listen to music, I’ve never lived at a pā, or even within my iwi’s rohe, and until three years ago, I hadn’t set foot on the land of my tūpuna Māori.

This list of ways I don't feel authentically Māori shows what I have learnt to believe about what it means to be Māori. It is based on stereotypes, even if the experience of not fitting in is real. For example, the majority of Māori are urban and have little reo (Research New Zealand, p 5), so why do I feel too urban and ignorant of te reo? This is one of the many tragedies of colonisation—the coloniser didn’t just make up stories about Māori, it forces us to live them as our reality, and judges us as inauthentic if we don’t. We don't even get to choose these stereotypes that we are being judged against, but eventually, we end up judging ourselves against them too. We begin to ignore or forget that it is our whakapapa that makes us Māori. If anyone is to define what it means to be Māori, it should be ourselves.

The insult Te Arawa used to try to discredit O’Regan shows that many do not consider whakapapa to be the only criterion for Māori identity. Calling O'Regan a Pākehā with whakapapa, does not just dismiss his whakapapa, it insults all our whakapapa. They were saying that whakapapa is insufficient—you may have whakapapa, but you may not be Māori. They were saying that being Māori depends on something more, it depends on behaviour or culture. I want to look more at this idea that we should behave in some way if we are to be judged truly Māori.

The way that we see ourselves is constructed on more than whakapapa. There is external feedback from people reacting to us, and reading our ethnicities. This depends on their expectations of Māori, which might include behaviour, knowledge of te reo and tikanga Māori, skin colour, dress, education, profession, diet, and countless other racial or cultural signifiers. Many of us who feel as if we fail on a crucial signifier, such as skin colour, try to compensate by excelling at another. For example, Hana O’Regan has spoken about how her fluency in te reo Māori has given her security in her identity as Māori (O’Regan, 10/10/2010), which had been challenged by both Māori and Pākehā (O’Regan, pp 20-21). This has been fantastic for Kāi Tahu, but not everyone will respond in such a positive way to discomfort around their identity, and not everyone will get to the place that she has, confident in their identity.

For those of us who have lived mostly in te ao Pākehā, most of the people we interact with will be Pākehā. It makes sense that our idea of what it means to be Māori will be influenced by Pākehā expectations. But after 200 plus years of European contact, even those who live in Māori communities, who have less interaction with Pākehā people, will still likely be influenced by European ideas of who Māori are. European ideas of racial identity, or othering, will also play a huge part.

There is a tradition of Europeans racialising the peoples they encountered as they traveled, traded, and attempted to control the world. The experience of Māori fits into this tradition of Othering and Orientalism. The characteristics Europeans associated with Māori are based on imperialism. We (Māori) have little ability to define how Māori are represented, or even defined.

This has implications for imagining constitutional frameworks for our future. There is a temptation to react against ‘their’ racist depictions of Māori by constructing our own racial identity; countering their negative messages with our positive ones. But, as I hope to show in this essay, race is a crap basis for identity—it is inherently limiting and dehumanising. Whakapapa is a genuine and useful foundation for identity, but we need to explore what that means. After a couple of centuries of colonisation, it may not be immediately obvious how whakapapa differs from race. But it is different, it has very different implications, and it needs to be the starting point for thinking about our future.

Colonisation hasn’t just racialised a Māori identity, it has messed with our ideas about gender. I don’t just mean the way we relate to each other—our understanding of colonisation itself, has been gendered. This has worked its way into our language and metaphors, and potentially our visions for decolonisation. We need to ensure that our visions are in all ways free from patriarchy.

Othering

Othering has been used to explain and deconstruct representations and treatment of cultures, genders and sexualities. Johnson and Pihama review the literature about Othering and much of the following is based on their work. Othering is a term that has been given to the situation where a privileged group defines itself as normal, and compares all other groups (the Other) against this normality. Others are described as opposite to the norm. Othering highlights differences between groups, while at the same time ignoring differences within the Othered groups. “Using its own values, experiences and culture as standards, the dominant group measures the Others and finds them lacking” (Johnson and Pihama, p 77). Biases that favour the dominant group are ignored, and any differences in outcomes (such as prison statistics, success at school or economic differences) are explained as coming from the shortcomings of the Other.

Johnson and Pihama summarise the effect of Othering on Māori in New Zealand. First, “difference is applied in ways which are not complimentary or positive for Māori or their interests and aspirations” (Johnson and Pihama, p 80). This includes using stereotypes as explanations to blame Māori for situations that are actually caused by structural racism (for example, Māori do poorly at school because we are lazy, Māori end up in prison because we are violent, etc.). Second, Pākehā cultural norms are legitimised and reinforced in all institutions and aspects of New Zealand. This means that anywhere in New Zealand, Pākehā culture and English language are considered normal—so much so that many Pākehā are unaware that they even have a culture. Whereas in most situations it would be both unexpected, and even unacceptable, to behave according to tikanga Māori, or to use te reo Māori. Third, once the dominant culture has set this up, there is “a double-edged sword of either ignoring or focusing on differences” (Johnson and Pihama, p 81). Ignoring differences leads to assimilation of Māori into Pākehā culture—essentially cultural extinction. Acknowledging the differences highlights that they are associated with deprivation (for example, Māori are over-represented among the poor, imprisoned, etc.), leading to stigma. Either of these end up reinforcing the dominance of Pākehā.

Said has written about Othering in the context of the European invention of Orientalism. The Oriental is a specific type of Other, and the European understanding of Māori in New Zealand is essentially as an Oriental. It may seem odd to consider Māori as Oriental, but Europeans imagined the world divided into two hemispheres, the west (Occident) included only Europe and America; everywhere else from east of the Mediterranean was the east or Orient, from India to Japan to Mongolia to Turkey to Egypt. As Said documents, when Europeans met peoples who were different from themselves, they slotted them into the category of Oriental, and treated them almost as if they were interchangeable. This ‘interchangeableness’ is important in thinking about Māori cultural identity, because it means that stereotypes that had been forced onto the Oriental, have also been applied to Māori.

Said argues that the major component of European culture is its belief in its own superiority compared with non-European cultures (Said, p 7). Centuries and the resources of empires have gone into creating the idea of the Oriental—opposite and subordinate to Europeans:

“One ought never to assume that the structure of Orientalism is nothing more than a structure of lies and myths which, were the truth about them to be told, would simply blow away… Orientalism … is not an airy European fantasy about the Orient, but a created body of theory and practice in which, for many generations, there has been considerable material investment” (Said, p 5)

There are two reasons for this. The first is that Europeans believed that if they studied the Oriental, European management of the Orient would be easier and more profitable. The second is that the circularity of Orientalism reinforced European ideas of who Europeans are. By casting the Oriental as exotic and inferior, Orientalism confirms Europeans as normal and superior. The Oriental is always defined in opposition to Europeans, representing the opposite of how Europeans see themselves: “Orientalism… has less to do with the Orient than it does with ‘our’ [European] world” (Said, p 12). According to this logic:

“The Oriental is irrational, depraved, childlike, ‘different’; thus the European is rational, virtuous, mature, ‘normal’… the Oriental is contained and represented by the dominating frameworks.” (Said, p 40)

As Balfour pointed out, Europeans governed over the Orientals not just out of self-interest, but for the sake of the Orientals (Balfour, cited in Said, p 33). This is the white man’s burden. There is no reflection or examination of the assumptions that require European rule over the Orient—European culture is superior therefore dominant, Other culture is inferior therefore dependent. The reason Orientalists could gather and provide such knowledge about Orientals, Māori or otherwise, is because Orientals are completely knowable—Orientals have an unchanging essence that once known is always known. This is important; this changes a stereotype into a fixed racial characteristic.

Orientalism seems archaic, but Said demonstrates how it continued to affect US policy under Kissinger (Said, pp 46-48), and, in his afterword to the 1995 edition, how it continues to play out (Said, pp 329-354). Closer to home, I want to show how Orientalist thinking continues to affect the representation of Māori in New Zealand, and how this entrenches cultural identities that are not helpful to us.

Māori as an Oriental

Reading Said’s Orientalism, it is impossible not to notice the similarity in both strategies and stereotypes in the treatment of Māori by Europeans. From the very first encounters between Europeans and Māori, Europeans were examining this new people, working out where Māori fit in with races that had already been identified. Where are Māori on the hierarchy of races? Europeans provided not only the gold standard of humanity against which all races could be ranked, but were also the subjective, disinterested judges of the ranking. Whatever the motives of ethnographers like Elsdon Best or S. Percy Smith, their gathering of information about Māori is entirely within the European tradition of the Orientalist. They collected data, became the recognised authorities, so that finally their subject can be understood by those who wish to control Māori without having to meet us. There is no need to ask Māori questions about ourselves when there are Europeans who know us better, and who certainly know what is best for us. Grey, on the other hand, made explicit his reasons for studying Māori:

“I soon perceived that I could neither successfully govern, nor hope to conciliate, a numerous and turbulent people, with whose language, manners, customs, religion, and modes of thought I was quite unacquainted… Clearly, however, I could not, as Governor of the country, permit so close a veil to remain drawn between myself and the aged and influential chiefs, whom it was my duty to attach to British interests and to the British race, whose regard and confidence, as also that of their tribes, it was my desire to secure, and with whom it was necessary that I should hold the most unrestricted intercourse.” (Grey, pp v, viii)

Like his contemporaries in the Orient, Grey was gathering information so that he could better manipulate and control his native subjects.

But this is not the most striking similarity with Orientalism. The strangest similarity is not in the ways Europeans behaved towards Māori and other peoples considered Oriental, but rather the results of their attempts to know the Oriental. There are remarkable similarities between the unchanging essences that are described for Orientals, and those described for Māori. As examples, I compare the descriptions of Oriental women and men with representations of Māori women and men.

Oriental women are literally the stuff of Orientalists’ wet dreams: “[They] express unlimited sensuality, they are more or less stupid, and above all they are willing” (Said, p 207). Oriental women are described in ways that limit their roles to sexual objects, mothers and domestic servants. Like European women, they are always seen as powerless and inferior to men, but unlike European women, they are always sexually compliant. Isn’t this exactly how Māori women were described by Europeans? The dusky, unblushing, Polynesian maiden is surely an Orientalist invention.

Whereas Oriental men are always uncivilised, irrational, physical, emotional, childlike, violent, incapable of self-government, communal, closely associated with nature, in a word, feminised. Again, this sounds very much like the early representations of Māori men. It may seem strange to talk of Māori men as being represented as feminised, given the dominant current stereotype is often described as hyper-masculine. Hokowhitu touches on this:

“Early representations of Maori men portrayed them as lacking the qualities of the civilised European male. They had woman-like characteristics—they talked a lot, were animated and did women's work, while they lacked a stoic disposition because they were over emotional and whimsical.” (Hokowhitu, p 184)

European men considered all Others (whether Other genders or Other ‘races’) to be non-rational, and therefore associated with the non-human world (Forbes, p 104). Women and Orientals were understood as more primal and closer to nature (i.e., primitive, native, savage) than European men, who were instead cultured.

I want to come back to two points that may seem incompatible. As I have mentioned, Orientalism claims that the Oriental can never change—“The very possibility of development, transformation, human movement—in the deepest sense of the word—is denied the Orient and the Oriental” (Said, p 208). How does this fit with Hokowhitu’s observation that Māori men were originally represented as feminine, whereas now they are represented as hyper-masculine? In fact there is very little difference between the two representations—both rely on the idea that Māori men are physical and emotional rather than intellectual and rational. What has changed much more are the attributes associated with the European ideal man.

At the time that Europeans first started describing Māori, the ideals they brought with them were those of the English gentleman—rationality, authoritarian leadership, dispassionate, cultured, misogynous, and single-minded or stoic. Māori men were described as the opposite of these traits. However, the colonial gentleman is no longer considered the ideal man (Hokowhitu, pp 187-197). Feminism has shifted our understanding of the most useful or adaptive skills to include characters previously associated with femininity, for example, communication, emotion, and nurturing. The masculine ideal has been updated to the ‘new man’, who embraces these qualities; he is liberal and cosmopolitan, and retains masculine privilege. At the same time, the dominant stereotype of Māori men shifts from the joker (personified by Billy T James), to the hyper-masculine (personified by Jake in the film version of Once were warriors).

As Wall describes, the joker is an old stereotype that is replicated across the Orient, and fits with many early European representations of Māori (Wall, p 42). The joker is lazy, talkative, clever but not intelligent, and emasculated. He is clearly the opposite of the ideal colonial gentleman. The violent, hyper-masculine stereotype is also as old as colonisation, driven by fear of the indigenous peoples rising up against colonial rule. He is rural, works in primary industry, talks only with his fists, and beats his wife. I believe he could not become the dominant Māori stereotype while New Zealand still held to myths of its rural roots, and the good kiwi blokes who built this country. While Crumpy and Pinetree Meads were the quintessential New Zealand men, there wasn’t room for a negative Māori version—it was too close to home. The rise of the new man made room for the hyper-masculine stereotype of Māori to rise as his opposite.

Seen this way, the dominant Māori stereotype will always be opposite to the dominant (and therefore European) masculine ideal. If Pākehā ideas of themselves shift, then their representations of Māori, their ‘common sense’ stereotypes of Māori, will shift to be the opposite: “The effect is that native men become a backdrop for the staging of and representation of all that is ‘good’ in white masculinity” (Matahaere-Atariki, p 111). And there will be no acknowledgment that the stereotype has changed—Māori men have always been hyper-masculine. They must have been, because like any Oriental, they cannot change—they have a biologically determined, essential core. Only Europeans can change.

Of course there are several other stereotypes of Māori, but as Hokowhitu states, the roles that are available to Māori are limited (Hokowhitu, p 190). Racist government policies were largely successful in restricting Māori to manual education and employment, and therefore the working-class. This reality reinforces the stereotype of Māori as physical rather than intellectual.

Constitutional Issues

What has any of this got to do with constitutional issues? While I recognise the urgency in imagining how we want relationships between tangata whenua and tangata Tiriti partners to develop, an equally urgent task is acknowledging and dismantling the effects of 200 plus years of misrepresentation and Othering. I am not arguing that this should happen before we sort out our relationships with the newcomers—decolonisation is a long and on-going process—but it is a crucial component of developing our place in the future. We need an understanding of who we are as a foundation for shaping our future.

With all the time, force and experience of imperialism behind it, I think it is impossible to resist internalising at least some of the messages of the coloniser. Unfortunately, I don’t believe it is only the pale skinned, Pākehā schooled, urban Māori like me who are affected. The messages are relentless, and they are backed up with policies that make them seem real. For example, the coloniser didn’t just say that Māori aren’t as smart as Europeans and are only suited to manual labour—the Crown made it so. It demanded that schools train Māori to be farmhands and domestic servants, rather than teaching academic subjects. And when, as a result of this, Māori turn out to be under-represented in professions and over-represented in manual jobs, we all have the evidence to prove that the racist stereotype is true. There are two aspects of this relentless Othering that I consider especially relevant, and that we are in danger of continuing. The first is that Othering has racialised a Māori identity, the second is that it has gendered colonisation.

Racialising Māori

Prior to colonisation, Māori were simply groups of people living on these islands who were related by whakapapa, who shared a worldview founded on whakapapa, and who shared a common language. There was no national or racial identity—people grouped and regrouped as was appropriate or necessary, usually based on whakapapa. Following the arrival of Europeans, the word Māori began to be applied to all tangata whenua, and very quickly a whole range of Oriental stereotypes were piled onto that group. Wall explains how and why Māori were turned into a race by Europeans: “Universalised racial discourse was the key mechanism for dehumanising the Other, to negate the notion of Maori as the victim” (Wall, pp 40-41). Universalised and dehumanised, we were made all the same.

As a race, we were knowable, contained, unchanging; and as a race, we are defined by blood. From this thinking, whakapapa becomes a way, not of relating with each other and our world, but of measuring Māoriness—half-caste, quarter-caste, five-sixteenths. How much is enough to be really Māori? This question has been asked and answered by Europeans as a way of excluding people, both from being European and from being Māori. Any issue involving a Māori group is characterised as a racial issue. Colonisation and decolonisation are cast as racial issues, not justice issues. Statements such as ‘there are no full-blooded Māori left’ are used to argue against redressing the crimes of colonisation.

This has been so relentless that we are doing it to ourselves. Wall describes how Māori have developed our own stereotype of the ‘quintessential Māori’, based on an idea of a romanticised ‘traditional’ past (Wall, p 43). According to this stereotype, we are rural, spiritual and focused on family. She argues that this racialised Māori identity is based on colonial stereotypes, and holds no promise for us. Like those stereotypes, it traps Māori in a fixed identity where we are all the same (or we aren’t really Māori). Because Māori are contributing to its construction, this image has a special power. We cannot so easily blame it on our coloniser, but it is an inevitable consequence of colonisation—it is the search for the real us. But a real understanding of what it is to be Māori is not going to be found in stereotypes, or reconstructions, whether by us or our colonisers.

Pākehā may have invented the doctrine of race, but that doesn’t mean we are immune from it. When we have been racially defined for so long, we may fall into the trap of confusing race with whakapapa. It is helpful to regularly remind ourselves that it is whakapapa and not race that makes us Māori. As Moana Jackson took pains to ensure I understood, whakapapa is not race (Jackson, 13/11/2010). It does not carry racial stereotypes; it does not imply an oppositional relationship with other races.

This has implications for constitutional models. Whereas a racial identity is fixed, a whakapapa identity is not. Since Europeans started taking censuses, requiring Māori to name their hapū and iwi affiliations, they too have become fixed and unchanging. Being based on whakapapa, Māori identities are relational—sometimes we are tangata whenua, sometimes we are manuhiri, sometimes we are even tangata Tiriti. Usually I speak of the iwi that connect me with the South Island, but occasionally it may be more useful for me to stress my relationship with our northern whanaunga, like Ngāti Kahungunu. This makes constitutional models based on fixed identities challenging, and I think deserving of more attention.

Gendering colonisation

As a woman looking at the Othering or Orientalising of Māori through racial stereotypes, one of the most unsettling aspects is how invisible they make Māori women. The coloniser has focused so much on Māori men, that Māori women appear to be irrelevant as anything other than sexual playthings. Mikaere and others have done a great job of highlighting the effects of this on how we (both Māori and Pākehā) understand Māori society, and I’m not going to revisit that work. Instead I want to focus on the effect it has on our understanding of colonisation, and therefore decolonisation.

As I mentioned earlier, the Oriental male was seen as feminine; he was Othered in ways similar to European women—irrational, emotional, close to nature, etc. As Matahaere-Atariki warns, it is dangerous and misleading to see Māori within colonisation as analogous to women within patriarchy (Matahere-Atariki, p 108). It reflects the misogynous idea that colonisation is harder on Māori men. This is misogynous because overlooks the realities of women, but more dangerously, it genders colonisation—colonisation becomes emasculation.

bell hooks explores the language and imagery of racial domination and of emancipation, particularly for black liberation struggle in the US. She argues that black liberation has been sexualised “in ways that support and perpetuate sexism, phallocentrism, and male domination” (hooks, p 60). Racist domination has been equated with the loss of black manhood, so freedom means regaining that manhood:

“The discourse of black resistance has almost always equated freedom with manhood, the economic and material domination of black men with castration, emasculation. Accepting these sexual metaphors forged a bond between oppressed black men and their white male oppressors. They shared the patriarchal belief that revolutionary struggle was really about the erect phallus, the ability of men to establish political dominance that could correspond to sexual dominance.” (hooks, p 58)

It is important to continually examine our language to ensure our understanding of colonisation isn’t influenced by misogyny. Once there, it can easily creep into our futures. The use of gendered metaphors in describing the effects of colonisation is dangerous. For example, rape may seem an appropriate image for the effect of colonisation on this land, but it is unhelpful. It reinforces the idea of the coloniser as male, and by extension, of Māori as female or emasculated. It juxtaposes the active, male coloniser, against the passive, female whenua (to which Māori are linked). This is a coloniser’s fantasy.

We need to ensure that we are not confusing Māori men’s liberation with decolonisation. We have been fortunate in the number and calibre of women protesting for and theorising about decolonisation. Kuia like Eva Rickards and Whina Cooper have become iconic, and there have been and are countless more who have had less media attention. But men quickly become the focus of media when they are near the front—the images of Springbok protest, the Seabed and Foreshore Hīkoi, or the occupation of Pākaitore, for example, focus on the men. Tame Iti’s facial moko has become an emblem of Māori resistance, turning up on t-shirts and stencilled graffiti. It sometimes feels as if masculine images are the symbols of real protest.

The Crown has been quick to recognise male leadership by co-opting Māori men. I am not going to single any out, but there are countless examples of men, and groups of men, who have been rewarded in this way. We need to be careful that we do not fall into the trap of believing men are our only leaders, and succumb to the coloniser’s patriarchy. Women and men must both shape our future. The recent formation of Te Whaainga Wāhine shows that this is an ongoing problem, but more importantly, it shows that mana wahine is still powerful after more than 200 years of attempts to crush it.

Conclusion

Does any of this help me to understand where I fit in? Stereotypes have power, and that power doesn’t disappear just because we know they aren’t real. They lurk in the backs of our minds, and subtly (or not so subtly) influence how we feel in the world and how we understand our world. We cannot ignore them, because they are relentless and omnipresent. We cannot disprove them, because we don’t control them—they serve a purpose, just not ours. And we can’t simply construct a nicer racial stereotype of our own, because it will be just as limiting and essentialising. If I can be honest with myself, about who I am and where I fit into a discussion about the future, then I won’t dispel any of the stereotypes or feelings of insecurity around my identity, but I will take a lot of the power out of those thoughts and feelings.

Whakapapa provides a way forward, not just for me, but for these islands. Whakapapa provides a way of understanding who each of us are, by focusing on the relationships that we are in, and by being honest about where we came from and how those relationships came to be. As we think about our future, as individuals and as peoples in this land, Māori and tauiwi, that’s what we need. Whatever develops, it needs to be based on honesty—honestly looking at power, who has it and how they came to have it, honestly looking at the effects of colonisation, at our privileges and our oppressions. Our whakapapa.

That sounds optimistic, I don’t believe for a moment that we will get there in my lifetime. We are a long way from being able to have honest conversations about our histories. Most New Zealanders know very little about the history of these islands. Most probably prefer not to know. There is so much fear and ignorance of the reality of colonisation that needs to be driven out before most Pākehā New Zealanders can approach honesty. Truthful education about our past is the key to the future.

ORAL SOURCES
Jackson, Moana (13/11/2010) Discussion with author, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki

O’Regan, Hana (10/10/2010) Discussion on te reo Kāi Tahu, Tū Roa Kohanga Reo, Ōtaki

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Forbes, Jack D (2001) “Nature and Culture: Problematic Concepts for Native Americans”. Indigenous Traditions and Ecology: The interbeing of cosmology and community Edited by John A. Grim. Center for the Study of World religions, Harvard Divinity School, Cambridge Massachusetts, USA

Grey, George (1995) Nga Mahi a nga Tupuna. Reprint Published by University of Waikato Library, Hamilton

Hokowhitu, Brendan (2003) “Maori masculinity, Post-structuralism, and the Emerging Self” New Zealand Sociology 18 (2)

hooks, bell (1990) Yearning: race, gender, and cultural politics. South End Press, Boston, MA, USA

Johnson, Patricia and Leonie Pihama (1995) "What counts as difference and what differences count: gender, race and the politics of difference". Toi Wāhine: the worlds of Māori women Edited by Kathie Irwin & Irihapeti Ramsden, Illustrated by Robyn Kahukiwa. Penguin Books, Auckland

Matahaere-Atariki, Donna (1999) “A context for writing masculinities” Masculinities in Aotearoa/New Zealand Edited by Robin Law, Hugh Campbell and John Dolan. Dunmore Press, Palmerston North

O'Regen, Hana (2001) Ko Tahu, Ko Au: Kāi Tahu Tribal Identity. Horomaka Publishing, Christchurch

Said, Edward W. (1995) Orientalism: Western conceptions of the Orient. Penguin Books, London

Wall, Melanie (1997) “Stereotypical constructions of the Maori ‘race’ in the media” New Zealand Geographer 53 (2)

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Research New Zealand (2007) 2006 Survey of the health of the Maori language: Final report. Te Puni Kokiri/Ministry of Maori Development, Wellington

Ani Mikaere – Māori Critic and Conscience in a Colonising Context: Law and Leadership as a Case Study

2010-12-28T20:13:00.004+13:00

Link to full-text of a recent talk by Ani Mikaere on Māori leadership.

Sexuality and Tikanga Māori

2010-12-15T14:31:00.003+13:00

This is an essay I wrote for school last year. It needs more work, and I have an interview that has to be included, but I wanted to share it. I welcome any comments you have. I need to acknowledge the support of my classmates and tutors at Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa in developing my understanding of te ao Māori. Ani Mikaere, Leah Whiu and Kiritapu Allan gave helpful comments on an earlier draft.

INTRODUCTION

"There are some citizens who go so far as to say that tikanga Māori should remain in the pre-Treaty era and stay there. To them tikanga Māori has no relevance in the lives of contemporary Māori. That body of knowledge belongs to the not so noble past of the Māori. Individuals who think this way really have no understanding of what tikanga are and the role tikanga have in our ceremonials and in our daily lives. It is true, however, that tikanga are linked to the past and that is one of the reasons why they are valued so highly by the people. They do link us to the ancestors, to their knowledge base and to their wisdom. What we have today is a rich heritage that requires nurturing, awakening sometimes, adapting to our world and developing further for the next generations." (Mead, p 21)

Our environment, like that of our tūpuna, is constantly changing. By stressing constant values rather than rules, tikanga Māori has developed to be relevant to whatever circumstance we live in. Colonisation has changed our environment, and it has also changed both our understanding of tikanga Māori, and tikanga Māori itself. We need to develop a culture of reflection, that continually examines the effects of colonisation on tikanga by reference to the values of a Māori worldview. The actions or attitudes of our tūpuna may be impossible to know, or, just as our actions often do not reflect our values, they may not be a reflection of their values. After a couple of hundred years of contact with European values and western imperialism, even when we know the actions of our tūpuna, we may misinterpret the reasons behind them. Instead of focusing on their actions, we need to look to the values our tūpuna preserved in art and oral literature. Tikanga are open to change. Irrespective of the attitudes of our tūpuna, if tikanga are to be relevant to us, they need to serve our situation today.

This essay examines tikanga relating to sexuality. There are two main arguments for how inclusive or exclusive Māori culture should be to diverse sexualities. Each is based on arguments of pre-European tikanga. We do not need to limit ourselves to an idea of pre-European authentic tikanga. We know the current reality: the existence of queer-identified Māori, a hetero-normative culture that marginalises queers, and a Western culture that marginalises Māori; we know the effect of negative constructions of identity. Using this knowledge, and an understanding of the values that underpin tikanga, we can ask how inclusive a kaupapa Māori framework would be of diverse forms of sexuality. From this we can start to imagine how this can be expressed.

TIKANGA MĀORI

The purpose of tikanga or Māori law is to maintain relationships among ourselves, and between us and our environment. These relationships are defined by whakapapa, and it is for this reason that Jackson describes tikanga as being born from whakapapa (Jackson, p 61). Maintaining relationships includes keeping us safe, as well as protecting or enhancing our standing through our actions.

Tikanga should not be seen as a set of rules, but rather as the set of values established and developed by our ancestors that underlie those “rules” or practices (Ministry of Justice, p 1). The values that were important to our tūpuna are illustrated in the oral traditions that have survived across generations—the creation stories, waiata, haka and whakataukī, which show us the attributes and behaviours that were adaptive and praised, and those that were not (Mikaere, 1994, p 4; Mahuika, p 46).

This focus on values rather than rules allows flexibility. In common with many traditional justice systems, the aim of tikanga Māori is social stability and enduring solutions to problems, rather than consistency of process or outcomes (Elechi, p 18). It is this flexibility that keeps tikanga constantly relevant. As Mead's quote suggests, tikanga provide a link to our ancestors, but they can be changed or developed to suit our needs (Mead, p 140). By reference to the kaupapa that underpin tikanga, the system is adaptable: it is possible to determine tikanga-based solutions to any issues or problems that arise, as well as to redevelop tikanga for issues where they have been lost or distorted as a result of colonisation (or any other process).

One such issue is sexuality. The introduction of Christianity has had a profound effect on Māori culture. With the well-documented, strongly-held convictions of the church on appropriate expression of sexuality, it is inconceivable that Māori attitudes and tikanga would be unaffected (Aspin, unpub., p 4). There is growing evidence from several researchers that pre-European Māori society included as much sexual diversity as contemporary Māori society. After 200 years of colonisation, the actual experiences, attitudes and tikanga of our ancestors relating to sexuality are impossible to reconstruct (for example, Hutchings and Aspin, pp 15-21, provide an excellent summary on the repression of information about sexual diversity as a result of Western colonisation). What we can know for sure is the current situation: the current diversity of sexual expression and identity among Māori, current opinions towards sexuality, and the effect of these on Māori communities. With this knowledge, we can then begin a discussion on sexuality and tikanga Māori.

SEXUALITY

Sexuality is a broad term that encompasses many aspects of our lives. It includes gender constructions and identities, relationship structures (i.e. polygamy, monogamy, polyandry, and social structures like marriage) and their role in constructions of whānau, as well as sexual preference. Any aspect of sexuality would make an interesting case for studying how tikanga Māori are linked to the past but provide a way forward. There is evidence, for example, that tikanga Māori has always had a level of flexibility in gender expectations, that men could take on 'feminine occupations' and that women could take on 'masculine occupations' (e.g. Mead, p 256). It would be interesting to look deeper into how tikanga restrictions of male and female roles have been applied to transgender people under different circumstances, and how they are applied today. There is also considerable evidence of a diversity of relationship structures, rangatira (of either sex) in particular often had many spouses (e.g. Te Awekotuku, 1996, p 32), and relationships were not necessarily permanent: "Dissatisfaction was enough to dissolve a liaison; the parties simply moved apart unless there were issues of mana, property and alliance at risk." (Te Awekotuku, 1996, p 32) Values relating to sexual expression, even within heterosexuality, have certainly changed as a result of colonisation and the introduction of Christianity. Missionaries brought with them the ideal of a life-long, monogamous, heterosexual relationship, and only celebrated sexual expression within that context. A discussion of changes to tikanga relating to relationships and sexual expression would be a worthwhile study. However, I am choosing to use the word sexuality to refer only to sexual preference, orientation or behaviour (most usually defined by the adjectives bisexual, homosexual or heterosexual), and this essay focuses only on tikanga in relation to sexual preference.

While different groups within New Zealand have different positions on sexuality, the currently dominant culture can be described as hetero-normative, meaning that heterosexuality is considered normal, while other forms of sexuality are considered as deviants from this norm. This is typical of any Western culture, and the pattern of positions, discussions and experiences is largely indistinguishable from that of, for instance, England or the US, suggesting that the attitudes of mainstream New Zealand to sexuality result from colonisation. For the purpose of this essay, I will refer to behaviour outside the hetero-normative definition of normal as 'queer'. Because this group is defined in opposition to heterosexuality, it usually includes a diversity of identities, encompassing sexuality (bisexual, homosexual), the absence of sexuality (asexual), gender identity (transgender and intersex), and more culturally defined groupings (gay, lesbian, fa'fafine, takatāpui).

By definition, a hetero-normative culture marginalises queer-identified people, just as an imperialist culture marginalises indigenous peoples. For Māori with queer identities, they are not just marginalised as Māori and as queer within mainstream culture, they may also be marginalised within the Māori community because of their sexuality, and within the queer community because of their ethnicity. According to Aspin, men who identify as takatāpui tend to maintain strong relationships with their whānau, and this means they are more immune to ostracism than those who are less connected (Aspin, 2007, p 161).

There has been a reclamation of the word 'takatāpui' since it was rediscovered by Lee Smith and Ngahuia Te Awekotuku (Hutchings & Aspin, p 15; Te Awekotuku, 1991, p 38). Williams Dictionary of the Māori Language, compiled in 1832, defined takatāpui as 'intimate companion of the same sex'. Modern use of the word is probably closer to the English word 'queer', which is usually defined in opposition to heterosexual—it encompasses bisexual and homosexual, as well as transgender and intersex. The difference between the terms queer and takatāpui is that takatāpui includes Māori cultural identity. However, as I have touched on and will discuss further, many Māori with same-sex attractions have been excluded from Māori communities, and tikanga has been cited as the reason. If the purpose of tikanga is to maintian relationships, excluding whanaunga based on sexuality cannot be tika.

Current expressions of sexuality among Māori

Despite the hetero-normativity of the dominant culture in New Zealand, there is still a diversity of sexual identities, and this is also true among Māori. Hutchings and Aspin's collection Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People provides an incredible resource for understanding some of this diversity. Aspin and Hutchings state that hetero-normativity is foreign to Māori society:

“Categorisation of different forms of sexual expression is… a Western construct which serves to classify Māori society according to sexual behaviour. Such a system of categorisation… fails to recognise that sexuality is fluid and flexible and that it is not necessarily constant for everybody throughout their lifespan. Nor does such a system describe adequately the cultural nuances of Māori sexuality as it was expressed in the past and as it is expressed today.” (Aspin & Hutchings, p 228)

Many Māori men and women use terms such as gay or lesbian to describe their sexuality (Aspin & Hutchings, p 231). Increasing numbers are using the word takatāpui, instead of or as well as the Western terms, to identify both their sexuality and their Māori identity (Aspin & Hutchings, p 231). A 1997 study of men who have sex with men found 31 % of Māori respondents chose takatāpui as a preferred term for their sexual identity (Aspin, Reid, Hughes & Worth). These men tended to be more urban-based and to feel more connected to the gay community than the other 69 % of Māori respondents.

Researchers on the Māori Sexuality Project report they are finding evidence that takatāpui have and do "play a key role in their whanau, hapu and iwi" (Aspin, 2005, p 5). Recent research on men found that those who identified as takatāpui indicated "a strong attachment to their Māori cultural networks" (Aspin, 2005, p 8). Some writers in Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People speak to this acceptance in te ao Māori, for example, Aaron Signal: "I am glad about the upbringing I had, based on kaupapa Māori. It is a kaupapa founded on strong respect for whānau values. It is a kaupapa that comes from my parents and ancestors." (Signal, p 103 ) Others had less positive experiences. Paul Reynolds had many experiences of homophobia: "It has taken me over thirty years to accept who I am, takatāpui tāne, Māori, gay and proud… it was extremely important to be able to pass as straight at an all-Māori boys' boarding school." (Reynolds, p 111 ) Geoff Rua'ine is also clear that although he grew up in a loving whānau, with the protection of his kuia, "In those tender teenage years I knew I was gay, but I also knew I had to keep quiet about it for my own safety and well-being." (Rua'ine, p 151)

Several writers spoke of responses to sexuality within tikanga Māori. For example, Carl Mika talks of the need for toning down sexuality:

“Many takatāpui are allowed back on their marae… as long as it is with an asexual visage. The thought of takatāpui taking a partner along to a function on the marae often causes visceral reactions... Some takatāpui are prevented from speaking on the marae ātea, even though tikanga dictates they can, due to some perceived equivocality over their gender.” (Mika, p 139)

Rua'ine speaks of tikanga which are clearly not accepting of diverse sexual identities:

“Often when somebody's body was sent home for burial, there was a lot of shame and guilt from the whānau and hapū. There were instances where the tangihanga was rushed, the coffin sealed tight throughout the mourning and the tūpāpaku buried well away from everyone else in the urupā. Often long-time partners were never acknowledged as such. It's a good thing the loving embrace of Papatūānuku is everywhere.” (Rua'ine, p 153)

Despite Aspin's assertion that "Māori society is generally inclusive, tolerant and accepting" (Aspin, 2007, p 161), there are some very strong messages that this is often not the case. Just as in New Zealand's dominant european hetero-normative culture, many of us who are not heterosexual have experienced silencing—we are expected to be discreet about our sexuality, moreso than our heterosexual whanaunga. Many of us have been excluded at some time because of our sexuality, and some have been physically attacked. Too many have not survived. Tikanga Māori is often used as an excuse for this violence, hatred and fear.

There is no, and probably never will be, a definitive, unequivocal answer on pre-European Māori attitudes and tikanga relating to sexuality. But we can identify current opinions on sexuality and tikanga.

Current opinions abut sexuality and tikanga Māori

Most advocates of tikanga Māori start by looking to the past for direction, and this is true in the argument over whether or not tikanga Māori should be inclusive of a range of sexualities. However, the past is being used in different ways by different sides of this issue, as I will show.

There are two main camps that are outspoken, and each of them attempts to justify their opinion on the right- or wrongness of homosexual behaviour by citing the past. The position dominated by church representatives asserts that pre-European Māori were exclusively heterosexual (Aspin, 2007, p 162 cites an article in New Zealand Herald 5/6/2004), and deviation was punished by death (Tamaki is reported to have said this in an interview with John Banks on Radio Pacific, e.g. in Aspin, 2007, p 162); I will call this the exclusive heterosexual position. The other side is dominated by takatāpui-identified academics and argues that there is considerable evidence "that pre-European Māori society celebrated sexual diversity in all its manifestations" (Aspin & Hutchings, p 227); I will call this the sexual diversity position. A third intermediate stance is expressed by Mead, that heterosexuality was the norm, marriage was the primary expression of sexuality, but homosexuality was tolerated (Mead, pp 246-7); I will call this the hetero-normative position.

Each position is informed by the specific cultural position of its proponents, and not necessarily by tikanga or kaupapa Māori. This is especially true of the exclusively heterosexual position, whose proponents do not provide reason or evidence for their statements. Their assertions rely on ignorance of the past and are easy to rebut, especially thanks to recent research on pre-European Māori sexuality. It is easy to prove that homosexuality did exist in pre-European Māori culture, because there is evidence in oral literature and whakairo (e.g. Aspin & Hutchings, pp 228-232; Te Awekotuku, 2005, pp 6-9); likewise, it is easy to prove that a tikanga of exterminating homosexuals is unlikely, because some record of it would exist. When Vercoe says that homosexuality is "unnatural", or "not morally right", and that "One day society would find homosexuality unacceptable" (Vercoe, in Masters), he is clearly stating his opinion on sexuality. Rather than the usual strategy of claiming the bible as the righteous basis for exclusion, he uses tikanga Māori. He implies that such an extreme position is not just based in Christianity, but is in fact culturally universal, based on "human accepted norms" (Vercoe, in Masters). Of course it is not just church leaders who are outspoken advocates of this position, other political figures, for example John Tamihere, have also expressed such opinions. Likewise, Herewini remembers 25 years ago, Whetu Tirikatene-Sullivan urging Rātana Church to take a political stand against Homosexual Law Reform (Herewini, p 174). The reason we have heard the opinions of these people on sexuality and tikanga Māori isn't because they are experts on either sexuality or tikanga, but rather because they have political power which is recognised by mainstream New Zealand. Their opinions, well-informed or otherwise, carry weight because they have access to mainstream media. As more Māori are looking to tikanga as an expression of an authentic Māori identity, people like Vercoe, Tamaki and Tamihere have likewise tried to claim tikanga Māori as the source of their bigotry.

The argument that Māori celebrated sexual diversity also reflects the current reality of those putting it. Proponents attempt to justify this position by providing historical records of sexual diversity in Māori oral literature, the early European record, and whakairo. This research is hugely useful in providing a historical context and link to the past for takatāpui today. It certainly refutes the argument that homosexuality was non-existent or was generally punished by death. But does it actually prove that sexual diversity was celebrated by Māori society, or that it was consistent with tikanga? Of all the references to sexuality in these historical sources, how many reference homosexuality; and, even accounting for the sanitising of some of these sources, how many references would constitute celebration, or tolerance, or aversion? (If we were ignorant of historical European culture and looked for evidence of their attitudes towards sexuality in the same way, perhaps we would find something similar. The early European record provides evidence of widespread homosexuality among priests (Parkinson), which in no way reflects church or European tikanga or attitudes to homosexuality.) This position looks like an attempt to justify our existance in a currently hostile society by looking to a pre-colonial, authentically Māori past.

Most Māori probably fall between these diametrically opposing views on sexual diversity, into something like the hetero-normative position. For example, Mead's description of pre-European tikanga is that: "same-sex pairing[s]… were not recognised as marriages. Rather, people in such relationships were regarded as close friends… Such friendships were tolerated by the community as they are today." (Mead, p 247) Whatever this means, it sounds very much like a description of dominant attitudes to sexuality in contemporary New Zealand, including among Māori. Mead appears unsurprised that there has been no change whatsoever in Māori attitudes towards homosexuality, even though he is aware of the impact of the Crown and Christianity on Māori social structures and understanding of tikanga. He gives no examples of 'same-sex pairings' being treated as friendships or otherwise. I think it is possible that his description reflects his personal opinion about homosexuality, as much as it does tikanga Māori.

Rather than any of these positions being informed by tikanga Māori, I believe that proponents of each are using tikanga Māori to justify their personally-held opinion, each also attempting to reconstruct a past that supports them. Any statement about the historical precedent, rightness, acceptability, or otherwise of a group has political and personal implications. This is especially true where one group has more power, as is the case when discussing sexual behaviour in a hetero-normative culture. Many groups who are outspoken against homosexuality claim that to do otherwise is to undermine the values of a healthy society, that demonising homosexual behaviour is important in maintaining, for example, family values. Family values are, of course, hetero-normative, good for society and all of us, irrespective of our gender or sexuality. In a hetero-normative culture, even such extreme ideas have currency. The intermediate opinion, that deviations from heterosexuality can be tolerated, represents the hetero-normative argument—tolerance marginalises anyone who does not fit the heterosexual norm. It is assumed of every child that they will grow up to be heterosexual, and they therefore do not need to be protected from messages that homosexuals are not real men/women, that we are disgusting, or that homosexuality is sick and evil, and is just like paedophilia. Tolerance provides no counter-argument. Even in this seemingly more inclusive position, there is very strong pressure to conform, and implications for those who don't.

Given that Māori had and continue to have a diversity of sexualities, what are the implications of growing up and living in a hetero-normative environment?

What are the implications for identity?

Identity means understanding our place in the world: where we each belong and where we each stand; it is fundamental to health and well-being (Aspin, 2007, p 165). Many Māori have whakapapa, with all it entails, as a first source of identity; however, as a consequence of colonisation, many do not know or care to know their whakapapa. Māori have intimate experience of structural and institutionalised racism, and the effect on identity. I will briefly summarise this experience, and its parallels and intersections with institutionalised hetero-normativity or heterosexism.

Colonisers actively dismantle indigenous society by suppressing traditional systems of education, religion, justice, and organisation (Smith, p 28), by confiscating land and by suppressing language. At the same time, the colonisers institutionalise their values, and build their wealth from confiscated lands and the labour of dispossessed indigenous people. The effect of replacing a positive cultural identity with powerlessness and the negative messages of mainstream narratives is well-documented. In common with other indigenous cultures living under colonisation, the Māori population is statistically over-represented in indicators of poverty, mental, physical and social dis-ease. The framing of high rates of domestic violence among Māori as a problem of Māori culture rather than of colonisation is a typical response to these statistics. Māori are problemitised and pathologised (Smith, p 92), reflecting colonial constructions of the indigenous 'other', and feeding back into a negative spiral of identity. Rebuilding cultural identity individually and collectively is critical for breaking this relationship of power and oppression. In the last few decades many kaupapa Māori groups and programmes have been set up to do this; Māori are able to reconnect with te reo and tikanga, to participate in marae and iwi organisations even away from their rohe, and to participate in non-whakapapa based groups.

Just as the coloniser culture treats us as if we are all white and all male, it also treats us as if we are all heterosexual. There is pressure to conform, either to actually suppress queer sexuality, or to behave according to socially acceptable ideas of queer, 'playing straight', butch or camp. Homosexuality has literally been pathologised by Western culture—until the late 20th Century homosexuality was defined and treated as a mental illness under Western medicine, and homosexual acts between men were illegal in New Zealand until 1985. While New Zealand culture is more tolerant of homosexuality now than 25 years ago, sexuality is still subject to judgement. Heterosexuality is privileged, it is treated as normal, neutral, value-free, whereas deviations are 'othered', or defined in opposition to normal, and are only allowed to be the things that heterosexuality is not (Johnson & Pihama, p 77)—only heterosexuals can be real men or women. Anti-queer messages are common. While there are usually obvious clues to ethnic identity, sexuality is less obvious. This increases the problems of developing a positive identity, because it enables us to hide or deny our sexuality under pressure to be invisible, and it increases exposure to anti-queer behaviour. The effect of negative constructions of identity on queer people is equally damaging as on Māori, including high rates of self-harm and dangerous behaviours, unplanned teenage pregnancies, alcoholism and other drug use, etc. The building of queer organisations, such as Rainbow Youth, Manawatu Lesbian and Gay Rights Association, and Gay Association of Professionals, or of informal 'sub-cultures' are responses to this. Such communities define their own needs and norms, support each other and provide a positive source of identity and belonging.

Māori and queer have both been marginalised and problematised by mainstream culture; survival means organising to build pride in our identities, and from there, fighting for recognition. Unfortunately, this does not necessarily meet the needs of queer Māori, whose identity intersect with both these areas of marginalisation. As mentioned already, it is not uncommon for queer Māori to feel excluded from Māori community because of our sexuality, and from queer community because of our ethnicity. There are whānau that are so afraid of homosexuality, they will exclude queer (or queer seeming) whanaunga from fully belonging. When leaders in groups such as the Waipareira Urban Authority or the Anglican Māori Tikanga are some of the most outspoken advocates of exclusive heterosexuality, and other Māori leaders refuse to argue against them, it is understandable that some queer Māori are unsure of their place in Māori culture. Likewise, queer culture is often as ignorant of colonisation as mainstream culture, and just as inclined to racism (Aspin, 2007, p 162 and references therein).

If Māori culture continues to condone assertions of exclusive heterosexuality or even hetero-normativity in tikanga Māori, we leave queer Māori out. In this intersection between Māori and queer, survival is even more present. For queer Māori, survival might mean choosing between queer identity or Māori identity and leaving one behind; or creating two separate identities that each suppress part of who we are, behaving 'straight' with Māori and 'white' with queers. Some of us will survive by asserting our whole identity wherever we are, or by finding other queer Māori and creating a culture around us. Others of us will simply not survive. Is this consistent with tikanga? Is any exclusion of queer whanaunga consistent with tikanga?

KAUPAPA MĀORI, TIKANGA AND SEXUALITY

As discussed previously, tikanga are flexible, and whether we like it or not, will change over time. We can allow this to happen unconsciously, or to someone else's agenda that we do not control; this is happening now, as our tikanga become colonised to reflect the values of the dominant Western culture. Or we can use a kaupapa Māori analysis, based on the principles that should determine tikanga, to make conscious choices about what is adaptive for us.

As a result of colonisation, most of us have grown up in a world dominated by Western values, so our behaviours and value systems may not reflect a Māori world-view. Even te reo Māori has been colonised; the meanings of common and important words, such as whānau, kaupapa, rangatira and aroha, are being influenced as much by Pākehā usage as by Māori. This has profound effects on our culture. For example, when whānau is translated as family, Pākehā use it to mean family; it takes on all the meanings, and is restricted to only the meanings, that are understood by family. The primary meaning of whānau becomes nuclear family, a concept that did not even exist in te ao Māori. The rights and responsibilities or obligations of whānau start to align with those of a Western understanding of relationships within a nuclear family: parents become primary caregivers, aunts and uncles lose responsibility for nieces and nephews, grandparents lose rights to parenting, etc.

Words that are especially vulnerable to colonisation are those whose meanings are intangible and relate to concepts rather than things, such as those that describe fundamental values. For example aroha, whose most common meaning is now love (especially romantic or parental), but which was once more aligned with concepts of compassion and responsibility (Henare, p 213; Metge, p 80). Likewise for rangatira as chief. All the implications of the word chief have become part of the meaning of rangatira, which now includes Western concepts of royalty, hierarchy, and ruling and working classes. Colonisation of kupu Māori means that when we list the values that tikanga Māori rest on, or that should influence our decisions and practice, our understandings of those words may not reflect the values of our tūpuna. This is particularly true for those of us whose worldviews are dominated by experience in te ao Pākehā. It is not enough to know which values should be included in a kaupapa Māori analysis, understanding a Māori worldview is critical.

A kaupapa Māori approach to sexuality

Māori cosmogonies, as well as other forms of oral literature and artworks, are an important resource for recognising and understanding the worldview of our tūpuna. The first step of a kaupapa Māori analysis of sexuality is to make explicit the values that are shown in these resources, the values that underpin the worldview of our tūpuna. These values can then be applied to sexuality. I now discuss the values that I think are most relevant to developing tikanga around sexuality.

Whakapapa

Whakapapa is the basis of all tikanga and mātauranga Māori, defining every relationship. It is closely linked to whanaungatanga, relating to whānau and identity. It is also linked to mana and to what I am calling atuatanga. Individuals are seen as part of their ongoing whakapapa: 'ko tātou ngā kanohi me ngā waha kōrero o rātou mā kua ngaro ki te pō' (whakataukī cited in Ministry of Justice, p 27). It is through whakapapa that an individual always has a place in the world; their position within whānau, hapū and iwi cannot be taken away. This includes a literal place, tūrangawaewae (Mead, pp 42-43, 60), as well as identity and the right to participate.

Stressing whakapapa as fundamental to tikanga Māori implies a responsibility to continue the whakapapa, and this can be used as an argument for compulsory heterosexuality. However, sexual identity does not determine whether or not a person will have children—many people who do not identify as heterosexual have children, and many people who do identify as heterosexual will not have children. There are also very important ways to contribute to the survival of whānau and hapū without literally giving birth to another generation—for many of us, it is not a lack of people that is threatening our whānau or hapū, but rather a lack of knowledge, whanaungatanga, and whānau identity. There is no evidence that sexuality determines contributions to these, and the participation of anyone should be valued, regardless of their sexuality. Alienating people who do not fit mainstream expectations of sexuality does nothing to ensure the continuation of whakapapa.

By the same argument, because all Māori have whakapapa, we are all connected to each other, to our tūpuna, to our whenua, to atua. My whakapapa is the basis of my belonging to my whānau, not my sexuality. It cannot be taken away. Any arguments for tikanga of exclusion are an insult to our whakapapa. We may not know who our queer whanaunga and tūpuna are, but we certainly all have them. Arguing that queer Māori should be tolerated despite our sexuality is clearly an insult to those queer whanaunga and tūpuna. Based on whakapapa, it is tika to accept all of our whanaunga, and welcome our diversity.

Whanaungatanga

Whanaungatanga stresses the importance of maintaining relationships, and working collectively. Working collectively includes: respecting the role of kaumātua for maintaining cohesion, educating and guiding; sharing responsibility for the problems or actions of all group members to maintain or enhance the mana of the group; and educating children (or those returning to te ao Māori) about appropriate behaviour and values (Ministry of Justice, pp 51-58; Mead, p 345). Practices that connect people, such as whāngai, are very important.

Whanaungatanga stresses inclusiveness—maintaining relationships, and making use of people's skills for the collective good. Greater diversity means a greater skillbase.

Rua'ine and Reynolds each mention that their kuia were more supportive of their sexuality than were other family members (Rua'ine, p 149; Reynolds, p 121). Anecdotally this seems common, but far from universal. Many of our whānau have conservative christian values. In some whānau, kaumātua strongly police sexual norms, reflecting the huge impact of the colonising culture. Whanaungatanga requires us to find ways to honour those kaumātua, just as it requires us to undo the harm of the coloniser's message of hatred of difference.

Whanaungatanga is inconsistent with exclusion or mere tolerance, and consistent with acceptance and celebration.

Mana

Mana is essentially a measure of social standing based on whakapapa and birth order, and on parents' and personal achievements and contributions (Mead, pp 29-30, 51). Any actions should acknowledge or enhance the mana of ourselves and others, and members of groups are expected to uphold the mana of their group (Ministry of Justice, p 55). There are consequences for failing to respect mana (Mead, p 30). Important skills and attributes are inherited from tūpuna and ultimately from atua through whakapapa; these include teaching, organising, resolving disputes and looking after people. People gain mana by showing such skills and using them for the collective good (Ministry of Justice, pp 51-52). Looking after people and acknowledging and respecting their mana is a very important way to enhance one's own mana (Mead, p 30), whereas mistreating, belittling or abusing people diminishes one's own mana (Mead, p 52).

Colonisation has contributed to a limited definition of mana, which has come to be associated with 'masculine' traits—the description of Māori as a 'warrior race' has become a source of pride in the face of otherwise overwhelmingly negative messages about Māori people and culture (e.g. Blank, p 107). The emphasis on staunchness as a main source of mana is inconsistent with the stereotype of gay men, but equally it is inconsistent with a healthy culture (hooks, p 77). We need a diversity of skills, including communication, nurturing, teaching, negotiating, and community building. The hypermasculine, heterosexual, patriarchal stereotype that Māori are currently being sold (Hokowhitu) is holding us back and literally killing us. We need to fight against it, actively promoting different sources of mana, and actively breaking down associations that the colonising culture has built between mana and hypermasculinity.

For many of us, our understanding of mana has been distorted by the colonising culture—especially its fear of women and homosexuality. We need to reclaim our definitions of mana so that it continues to promote healthy, functioning communities. My understanding of mana is as a force to achieve our potential. Clearly, this is consistent with encouraging diversity, and inconsistent with limiting expression of who we each are.

Rangatiratanga

Rangatiratanga is the qualities of good leadership (Mead, p 366), which include recognising and using the resources of a group to enhance the mana of that group, as well as maintaining social cohesion. Every member of a group is a resource with skills that can be used. Rangatiratanga means maximising those skills and acknowledging everyone's contributions, so that everyone feels valued and continues to participate.

Alienating people or allowing them to be alienated because of their sexuality is inconsistent with rangatiratanga. It means losing group members and their skills from the pool of resources, so the whole group suffers. Rangatiratanga includes encouraging a culture which supports all group members. This means not only accepting and supporting queer group members, but also encouraging others to be accepting, and confronting those who aren't. Encouraging a culture that supports all group members means actively fighting messages from the dominant hetero-normative culture. Rangatiratanga is inconsistent with exclusion or tolerance of sexualities, and consistent with acceptance and celebration of diversity.

Manaakitanga

Manaakitanga is the constant need to nurture relationships and care for people, to balance mana and aroha for the common good (Mead, pp 29, 346), "to respect the mana of other people no matter what their standing in society might be" (Mead, p 345). Generosity and respect are behaviours that do not only acknowledge the mana of others, they are associated with rangatira and add to the mana and reputation of the person concerned (Ministry of Justice, pp 122-123, 137; Mead, p 345).

This is a kaupapa which can only be interpreted as honouring diversity and respecting others. It is clearly inconsistent with exclusion or tolerance of sexualities,and consistent with acceptance and celebration.

Atuatanga

"He atua! He tangata!" (Pere, unpub.) We all whakapapa to atua, and because we create and shape the world around us, we continue that atuatanga. The truest expression of ourselves is our atuatanga; when we believe in ourselves and love ourselves, we are celebrating atuatanga: "This is the greatest tribute I can pay to the atua who begat me" (Pere, unpub.).

Atuatanga is consistent with accepting and celebrating who we each are. It is inconsistent with exclusion, or any message that silences part of us, including tolerance.

Discussion

The kaupapa that inform tikanga Māori are all consistent with acceptance and celebration of diverse sexualities.

The exclusively heterosexual position is clearly inconsistent with my understanding of kaupapa Māori—this position tries to limit sexual expression, and condemns and alienates those who refuse to conform. This is clearly not tika. I can find no justification in kaupapa Māori for limiting consensual sexual expression; there is nothing to suggest that non-heterosexual behaviour should be considered evil, wrong or even embarrassing. Any messages or acts that alienate or vilify people because of their sexuality are not based in tikanga Māori, and should be seen as breaches of tikanga.

The hetero-normative position also seems inconsistent with kaupapa Māori. It assumes heterosexuality as normal, and supports institutions that privilege exclusive heterosexuality. The construction of normalcy exerts a strong pressure to conform, and a position of tolerance implies disapproval of non-conforming behaviour. Sexuality is only an issue for those who do not conform, not for others. This is not consistent with kaupapa Māori, which stress whakapapa, contributions to the collective, and maintaining relationships. Sexuality is irrelevant. Any messages or acts that marginalise people, that minimise or limit their contributions, or question their position within te ao Māori because of their sexuality are not based in tikanga Māori, and should be seen as breaches of tikanga.

Sexual diversity is consistent with kaupapa Māori. This means that people should be able to explore and express their sexuality, within the limits of consent and respect, without implication or judgement.

However, we live in a hetero-normative culture, and this has influenced our tikanga and understanding of kaupapa. Of course Māori attitudes to sexuality have been affected by the pathologising of homosexuality within Western medicine, demonising within Western religion, and criminalising under colonial law. This means that in order to enable freedom of sexual identity and expression, we need to educate ourselves and develop tikanga that expose and undo the messages of heterosexism and homophobia. We need to challenge our own behaviours against the kaupapa that are important to us, and focus on expressing the values that we care about.

We need to look at our assumptions about sexuality. These assumptions are important, because they influence our behaviour, and give messages we might not intend. Some of the common assumptions are:

everyone is heterosexual until proven otherwise
heterosexuality is normal
homosexuality is deviant or wrong
deviations from heterosexuality need an explanation
sexuality is static and needs to be labelled
experimenting when you're young is normal, then you settle down
no-one would choose to be gay
homosexuality is a sign of weakness
if someone doesn't disclose their sexuality, they're ashamed of it
violence and discrimination are things of the past
homosexuality is distasteful
children need to be protected from homosexuality.

For our culture to survive and remain relevant, our tikanga need to reflect our values and kaupapa. The above assumptions come from the colonising culture, which brought its shame and fear of sexuality to these islands. We need to be giving positive messages that all sexuality is normal and fluid, and that exploring and expressing sexuality is healthy and brave when you respect other people. We need to be actively creating a culture where it is safe and it feels safe for people to be open about who they are. That is the ideal of kaupapa Māori. This means being aware of all the influences that undermine our kaupapa, and responding to them.

CONCLUSION

As Mead's quote suggests, tikanga need to serve us. They need to be flexible and relevant. Looking to the attitudes of our tūpuna may be one way of informing decisions around tikanga, and may prove useful for people who are seeking identity in history. However, it is only one approach. The question of the attitudes of our tūpuna may never be fully resolved, or the answer may not suit our needs. Irrespective of the results of such research, it is important that we use kaupapa to develop tikanga that serve us. It seems reasonable to expect that tikanga would at least include all of us.

A diversity of sexualities certainly existed prior to the arrival of Pākehā, and continues to exist. In Pākehā culture, this diversity is tolerated, but not generally accepted. This is also true of many Māori communities. It may be that individuals with strong connections, mana and value to their whānau, who are obviously secure in their sexual identity, and whose whānau is secure in its mana, are accepted within their community. The problem is that inclusion and acceptance is usually passive and silent, whereas exclusion, fear and hate are usually loud, powerful and impossible to miss. Silent, loving acceptance is not enough to combat the messages of intolerance that we regularly see or hear about. Children need to witness and hear positive messages. Within a hetero-normative culture, this means finding ways of moving queerness from the margin to the centre.

Sexuality is not visible, the future sexuality of a child cannot be known by his or her parents, but is generally assumed to be heterosexual. Would we raise our children differently if we didn't make this assumption? If we knew a child would grow up to identify as takatāpui, knowing what we do about the messages that mainstream culture will give that child, what messages would we want to give her or him? Would we consider silent, loving acceptance a sufficient response to that child after he or she saw 10 000 Destiny Church members march against same-sex civil unions? Or after hearing an uncle ridiculed for being effeminate? Or after reading that homosexuality was an affliction introduced by Pākehā and that Māori look forward to returning to a world without gays?

It seems to me that we have a responsibility to those children to work towards whānau that genuinely value and celebrate all our members. The only way to do this is to loudly confront any language or behaviour that excludes, and to behave as if any child might be takatāpui.

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Aspin, Clive (2007) "Takatāpui – Confronting Demonisation" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Aspin, Clive and Jessica Hutchings (2006) "Māori sexuality" State of the Māori Nation: twenty-first-century issues in Aotearoa. Edited by Malcolm Mulholland. Reed, Auckland

Aspin, Clive, A Reid, T Hughes and H Worth (1997) Male Call/Waea Mai, Tane Ma: Māori Men Who Have Sex With Men. New Zealand AIDS Foundation, Auckland

Blank, Anton (2007) "Name-calling" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Elechi, O Oko (2006) Doing Justice Without the State: The Afikpo (Ehugbo) Nigeria Model.
Routledge, New York NY

Henare, Manuka (2001) "Tapu, Mana, Mauri, Hau, Wairua: A Mäori Philosophy of Vitalism and Cosmos" Indigenous Traditions and Ecology: The Interbeing of Cosmology and Community. Edited by John A. Grim. Center for the Study of World religions, Harvard Divinity School, Cambridge MA

Herewini, Te Hereiekie Haerehuka Maaka (2007) "He Pōriro – Born out of Wedlock!" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Hokowhitu, Brendan (2003) “Maori Masculinity, Post-structuralism, and the Emerging Self” New Zealand Sociology 18

hooks, bell (1990) Yearning,: race, gender, and cultural politics. South End Press, Boston MA

Hutchings, Jessica and Clive Aspin (2007) "Introduction" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Johnson, Patricia and Leonie Pihama (1995) "What counts as difference and what differences count: gender, race and the politics of difference" Toi Wāhine: the worlds of Māori women. Edited by Kathie Irwin & Irihapeti Ramsden, Illustrated by Robyn Kahukiwa. Penguin Books, Auckland

Mahuika, Api (1992) “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved” Te Ao Hurihuri: Aspects of Maoritanga. Edited by Michael King. Reed, Auckland

Masters, Catherine (5 June, 2004) “Top bishop's vision – a world without gays” NZ Herald.

Mead, Hirini Moko (2003) Tikanga Māori: Living by Māori Values. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Metge, Joan (1995) New Growth from Old: The Whānau in the Modern World. Victoria University Press, Wellington

Mika, Carl (2007) "Locating the Lisp Gene” Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Mikaere, A. (1994) “Maori Women: Caught in the Contradictions of a Colonised Reality” Waikato Law Review 125

New Zealand. Ministry of Justice (2001) He Hīnātore ki te Ao Māori: A Glimpse into the Māori World. Ministry of Justice, Wellington

Parkinson, Phil (2005) "'A most depraved young man': Henry Miles Pilley, the New Zealand missionary" Outlines: Lesbian & Gay histories of Aotearoa. Edited by Alison J Laurie & Linda Evans. LAGANZ, Wellington

Reynolds, Paul (2007) "I'm Takatāpui! I'm Takatāpui Tāne!" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Rua'ine, Geoff (2007) "Takatāpui and HIV – a Personal Journey" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Signal, Aaron (2007) "Voices from the Dark" Sexuality and the Stories of Indigenous People. Edited by Jessica Hutchings & Clive Aspin. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai (1999) Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Zed Books and University of Otago Press, London and Dunedin

Te Awekotuku, Ngahuia (2005) "He Reka Anō – same-sex lust and loving in the ancient Māori world" Outlines: Lesbian & Gay histories of Aotearoa. Edited by Alison J Laurie & Linda Evans. LAGANZ, Wellington

Te Awekotuku, Ngahuia (1991) Mana Wāhine Māori. New Women's Press, Auckland

Te Awekotuku, Ngahuia (1996) "Maori: people and culture" Maori: Art and Culture. Edited by DC Starzecka. British Museum Press, London

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Aspin, Clive (1-5 June 2005) "The Place of Takatāpui Identity within Māori Society: Reinterpreting Māori Sexuality within a Contemporary Context"Paper presented at Competing Diversities: Traditional Sexualities and Modern Western Sexual Identity Constructions Conference. Mexico City

Jackson, Moana (2008) “Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law” Compiled in Law 1.6: Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law: Compilation of Readings and Resources. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Diploma in Māori Laws and Philosophy, Ōtaki

Pere, Rangimarie Turuki "Nga Kawai Rangatira o te Wheke Kamaatu (The eight noble tentacles of the great octopus of wisdom)" Working paper No. 17

Annette Sykes – Politics of the Brown Table (full-text)

2010-11-08T08:30:00.005+13:00

I won't have time to post any of my writing until I get my last essays in to Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa. So instead, here's something much more awesome.

He Pānui: 2010 Bruce Jesson Lecture: Annette Sykes on The Politics of the Brown Table

2010-10-19T14:26:00.001+13:00

27 October 2010
6.30pm

Venue: Maidment Theatre, Alfred Street, The University of Auckland

Host: Annette Sykes, Ngati Pikiao, Lawyer and Activist

The Politics of the Brown Table

A self-annointed Iwi Leaders Group, a Māori Party that supports a National/ACT government, and a group of Crown mandated intermediaries drawn from retired politicians and bureaucrats are today’s agents for the manufacturing of consent and the management of discontent amongst Māori. The commercial deals on Treelords, the Emissions Trading Scheme, geothermal resources, national parks, private prisons, mining, whanau ora are all harnessing Māori to a global capitalism that impoverishes the mass of working class Māori and making them dependent on its survival. Most whanau and hapu are excluded from decision-making and denied the rights over their resources just as they always have been. Bruce Jesson foresaw these trends back in the 1980s. This lecture challenges this agenda and identifies the basic principles for a politics that genuinely empowers the people.

Professor Margaret Mutu, chairperson of Te Runanga-a-Iwi o Ngati Kahu, will be the discussant on the lecture.

Te Wao-nui-a-Tāne, Wai 262 and the Mataatua Declaration

2010-10-18T04:30:00.004+13:00

This essay looks at our relationship with Te Wao-nui-a-Tāne from a Māori worldview, and explores whether this has any relevance now. A Māori worldview is explained through the framework of whakapapa, and its expression in tikanga. In the current political situation, there is little acknowledgment of the mana of tangata whenua—of their rangatiratanga. Meanwhile, as a result of many human actions, our forests are degrading in quality and shrinking in size. Does a Māori worldview hold any solutions? What would they look like and how would we implement them?

The Wai 262 Claim was filed nearly 20 years ago as a reclamation of rangatiratanga for the forests, and we are still waiting for the Waitangi Tribunal to report their findings. Several of the people involved have passed away, including most of the original claimants. Their Claim remains an inspiration and reminder of our duty to Te Wao-nui-a-Tāne. Many people have contributed to the Claim, and several people have written about it, but it is largely ignored or poorly understood by the New Zealand public. The Mataatua Declaration is an international statement of rangatiratanga of all indigenous peoples for their knowledge. It was signed nearly 20 years ago, and like the Wai 262 Claim, has massive legal and governance implications. Like the Wai 262 Claim, it is largely ignored outside indigenous circles. Both these documents deserve a great deal more attention.

I spent the 1990s studying ecology at university. The Massey University Ecology Department prided itself on being the first and best ecology department in a New Zealand university. It offered no papers that looked at the environment from a Māori worldview; and within the papers that were offered, there were no classes that looked at the environment from a Māori worldview. Neither the Wai 262 nor the Mataatua Declaration were ever mentioned. Working as an academic scientist until 2005, any discussions I heard of the Wai 262 were framed around ownership: Māori want to own species, but species cannot be owned. Neither the Wai262 nor the Mataatua Declaration are about ownership of species. They are both about acknowledging mātauranga Māori, or understanding the environment from a Māori worldview; and they are both about acknowledging rangatiratanga, which includes our responsibilities to the environment.

Whakapapa

Whakapapa provides a framework for making sense of the world, describing the relationships between us and the natural world (Tau: 33). In its most literal sense, it is the building of layers, and probably the aspect that most of us think of first is the generations of ancestors who came before us, and who connect us with our whanaunga, which include all of creation.

"Although the whakapapa of various tribes may vary as to the particulars, the process from which humans eventually emerge does not. Each begins with a series of abstract concepts, in genealogical form, emerging one from the other. The same order is used to describe the processes of the physical universe as they unravel. The genealogy spreads in an ever increasing web of relationships from the single ancestral source. It includes the spiritual aspects of existence that are common to all things. The bond this creates between humans and the rest of the physical world is both immutable and unseverable. It finds recognition in a single world, whakapapa." (Tomas: 40)

It is so much more than genealogy—it is a way of understanding what something is by examining how it came to be and how it relates to other things. Mikaere describes whakapapa as "a comprehensive conceptual framework that enables us to make sense of our world… whakapapa provided a means of explaining some of the great mysteries of life" (Mikaere: 1). This then is a good place to start to examine the relationship of people with our terrestrial environment, or more specifically the forests, from a Māori world view.

Te Rangihiroa describes the world as divided amongst "a number of co-equal gods, each possessing authority over independent departments of nature and human activities" (Te Rangihiroa: 443), for example, with Tāne having authority over rākau and manu (Te Rangihiroa: 439). Best called these ‘departmental gods’ (Best (a): 161), and records that the forest was often called te wao nui a Tāne, with Tāne being the principal god of the forest (Best (b): 3, 6). Rather than this being as a result of allocation of responsibilities to a bureaucracy of departmental atua, it is based on whakapapa: the forest is mainly inhabited by the uri of Tāne—trees, birds, insects, etc. We also are uri of Tāne, although we are teina to the others. Within the framework of whakapapa, our relationship with the forest includes the perspective of tuakana and teina.

Mead explains the principle of tuakana/ teina as tuakana having a higher status or social position than teina (Mead: 30). My understanding is less hierarchical than this, with tuakana and teina having different roles and responsibilities: Mā te tuakana ka tōtika te teina, mā te teina ka tōtika te tuakana (Brougham & Reed: 93). Tuakana often have more parental roles; they are responsible for learning and passing on knowledge, understanding and enforcing rules, and safety and wellbeing. Teina often have more freedom, and a need to prove themselves; they also have the responsibility to question and challenge. Tāne is an example of the role of teina, which shows that it is not about simply having lower status than tuakana. Tāne was teina to most of the other atua, and yet was the instigator and main actor in two of their most consequential decisions—to separate their parents, thus creating te ao mārama, and to create te ira tangata. Likewise, people are teina to most of creation, including the other offspring of Tāne.

Relationships, even those based on whakapapa, are fragile and need to be maintained. Whanaungatanga therefore carries obligations. Utu or reciprocity, provides a mechanism for maintaining or returning a relationship to balance by acknowledging the mana of both parties. It is a principle that avoids relationships based on dominance or ‘power over’, where one party preys upon or is made dependent on the other. Interdependence means both parties acknowledge and accept their responsibilities to the other: we have responsibilities to the forest, and the forest has responsibilities to us. Our place in the cosmogony, as teina to the forest, reflects our reliance on the forest for nurturing with food and rongoa, and protection by providing the resources for our shelter. As teina, we are responsible for accepting and acknowledging this support, and for taking only what we need. Like Tāne, we can experiment and attempt to change our situation—by clearing forests, by introducing species, by genetically altering species to better serve our wants—but we can only push the boundaries so far, and there will always be consequences. Tikanga give us guidelines for this behaviour.

Tikanga

Whakapapa describes the relationships among ourselves, and between us and our environment, and tikanga developed as a method for maintaining those relationships. Jackson says all Māori law is based on whakapapa: “Law was...'born' of whakapapa or 'arose' out of it” (Jackson: 61). Mead explains that tikanga “are established by precedents through time, are held to be ritually correct, are validated by usually more than one generation and are always subject to what a group or individual is able to do.” (Mead: 12) Tikanga therefore provide a means for determining what is appropriate in our relationship with the forests.

There are several well-known pūrākau that speak about our relationship with Tāne, including our rights to use the forest, and the tikanga for doing so. Examples are Tū-mata-uenga eating the offspring of Tāne, Mahuika giving Maui the knowledge of fire, and Rata neglecting to acknowledge Tāne before taking a tree to build a waka. From these, we know that we do not have authority over the forests. We may use the forests, for example as a source of food, building materials, cooking and heating, but we need to be mindful of our relationship with the environment.

This relationship has developed over many generations of learning from mistakes. For example, our tūpuna learnt that fire is effective at clearing areas of forest for cultivating and building, but that it can also burn so widely that huge areas are destroyed, and wood, rongoa and birds are no longer available. Our tūpuna learnt that some birds are easy to catch, but that focusing on one source of food for too long meant local extinctions. An important aspect of rangatiratanga was managing the needs of the whānua or hapū without damaging the local environment. Tikanga developed based on knowledge of ecological principles specific to that environment. Observing and adapting these tikanga meant that tangata whenua eventually found a balance point, where the environment was providing all that was needed, without being degraded. The knowledge and responsibilities of this, which has come to be represented by the word kaitiakitanga, simply means maintaining our side of the relationship with the forests and Tāne.

As mentioned above, kaitiakitanga is an important part of rangatiratanga. In signing Te Tiriti o Waitangi, tangata whenua were guaranteed rangatiratanga. Whether or not the Crown recognises indigenous rangatiratanga at this time, kaitiakitanga is an unavoidable obligation for tangata whenua in their relationship with the forests. Regardless of legislation, sovereignty or legal ownership, tangata whenua need to find ways to enact this relationship.

When we are talking about rangatiratanga, the distinction between tangata whenua and Māori is very important. Rangatiratanga has nothing to do with ethnicity and everything to do with whakapapa. Although I am Māori, I am not responsible for the forests of the northern iwi. Likewise, as uri of Kāi Tahu, my whānau are still not responsible for the forests of Kaikoura. My whānau whakapapa to Rakiura and Murihiku, my tūpuna were nurtured by those lands and ocean, and it is to them that we are responsible.

Current situation

The Crown does not recognise the rangatiratanga of tangata whenua. There is little provision for kaitiakitanga. Tangata whenua seldom have any meaningful control over land use.

Meanwhile, forests in New Zealand are in a bad way. There has been a huge amount of deforestation caused by people, from the clearances in the 13th and 14th centuries (eg Ogden, Lusk & Steel: 261-263), to more recent clearings following European arrival. The most fertile, sheltered and flat areas of forest have largely gone, leaving only those on mountains and steep slopes. Normal forest dynamics often involve relatively large areas of forest dying at once (Mueller-Dombois: 221-243). This relies on forests being large enough that when one portion collapses, it is only a part of the whole, and other portions are at different stages of the process. Our forests have been so reduced in size, that this process can mean the entire forest canopy dying at once. This is made more likely by forest managers preserving areas in a mature, or ‘climax’ state, based on a simplistic idea of forest cycles. Often these areas are at a stage in their cycle where the large trees are close to collapsing. Following canopy collapse, people may perceive these forests as degraded, and remove protection, allowing no chance for regeneration.

Introduced plants and animals have caused more problems. Possums were introduced, and selectively eat their favourite plants (such as mistletoes or woodrose) until those plants are locally extinct, then move onto their next favourite. Deer and goats were introduced, and have interrupted the forests’ natural succession, so there are often no young trees to replace those that have died. Weeds, such as Tradescantia, also stifle re-generation, while others, like Old Man’s Beard, overwhelm stands of trees.

Our forests are in a spiral of decline—deforestation, degradation and invasion have caused local extinctions of plants and animals and loss of habitat, which leaves the forest more vulnerable to invasion and degradation. The relationship between people and the forests has been completely ignored—for two centuries, forests have been treated as an inconvenience to be cleared, with a free source of timber as a byproduct. Ethical and political decisions involving the use of knowledge are being treated as scientific questions. It has become a relationship based on domination and ownership, rather than whakapapa.

Two moves for a solution

Wai 262

In 1988, kaumātua representing Ngāti Kurī, Te Rarawa, Ngāti Wai, Ngāti Porou, Te Whānau a Rua and Ngāti Kahungunu (Ngāti Koata were to join later) met to discuss how to protect mātauranga Māori and fulfil their role as kaitiaki when plants and animals were being lost and whole ecosystems destroyed (Solomon: 10). In 1991, they filed the 262nd claim to the Waitangi Tribunal, based on breaches of Article 2 of the Treaty of Waitangi and Ko te Tuarua of Te Tririti o Waitangi. Article Two of the Treaty of Waitangi guaranteed Māori “full, exclusive and undisturbed possession of their lands and estates, forests, fisheries and other properties which they may collectively or individually possess”, while Te Tiriti o Waitangi, Ko te Tuarua guaranteed “te tino rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa”.

The Claim can be seen as having four parts.
1. Defines the rights and responsibilities of tino rangatiratanga guaranteed in Te Tiriti, including the rights to make decisions and benefit from those decisions over all aspects of indigenous flora and fauna (including kumara and kiore), and including the rights and responsibilities of manaakitanga, kaitiakitanga and tapu.

2. Defines Crown obligations under the Treaty, which imposes “a continuing obligation on the Crown to take active and positive steps to assist in the preservation of te tino rangatiratanga o te Iwi Māori in respect of their taonga”, and to obtain “consent from Maori on issues of tino rangatiratanga... of indigenous flora and fauna and cultural taonga.” (Wai 262 Claim: 4-5) The claim states that “any exercise of kawanatanga by the Crown... [is] in denial of te tino rangatiratanga o te Iwi Maori and… in breach of the Treaty of Waitangi.” (Wai 262: 5)

3. Outlines breaches of the Treaty and Te Tiriti by the Crown. These can be summarised as: failure to protect Māori tino rangatiratanga and kaitiakitanga over indigenous flora and fauna and other taonga, and over mātauranga Māori; having denied Māori the ability to protect these taonga, failure to protect the taonga itself; usurption of tino rangatiratanga and kaitiakitanga; and signing of international agreements affecting indigenous flora and fauna, intellectual property rights, and rights to other taonga (Ministry of Economic Development: 1).

4. Provides a list of remedies that include an apology, compensation, and recognition of te tino rangatiratanga o te iwi Māori in domestic law and international responsibilities.

Although the Claim is written in legal language, it is written from a Māori perspective. This is most clear in the reported breaches of Te Tiriti and the Treaty (sections 4-13). These sections speak explicitly of creation traditions, atua, Papatūānuku, Tāne, the importance of rangatiratanga, kaitiakitanga, manaakitanga, mana whenua and tapu in regards to indigenous flora and fauna, and the importance of cultural and spiritual values associated with specific species and indigenous forests. In addition to these, throughout the Claim the importance of mātauranga Māori, whakapapa, mana, wairua and mauri (especially in regard to genetic manipulation) are clearly central.

The Claim is not just about recognising tino rangatiratanga, it forces the Crown to acknowledge why the claimants seek it (Jackson, cited in Paget-Clarke: 2); it is about re-establishing the relationships between tangata whenua and the environment. The validity of the Claim stems from whakapapa not from concepts in Crown Law (Williams: 10). Williams argues that the Tribunal must consider the Claim from a tikanga Māori perspective “rather than commencing with Crown policies... then trying to accommodate Maori concerns in a framework... already stipulated by... Government policies.” (Williams: ix)

The Wai 262 Claim has massive implications. It is based on the rights of tangata whenua, not on the principles of the Treaty, or on rights to Aboriginal title in British law. Rather than focus on specific acts of the Crown in breach of the Treaty of Waitangi, it questions the right of the Crown to rule at all. It is a bold attempt to force the Crown, within its own legal process, to recognise the authority and need for tangata whenua in managing the environment. Additionally, it questions the Crown's presumption of rights over everything not known at the time of the signing of the Treaty/ Te Tiriti.

"From a tino rangatiratanga perspective... radical title to land and... taonga lies with the hapū of te iwi Māori and the burden of proof should properly be on the Crown to establish its rights." (Williams: 6)

Mataatua Declaration

Information about the Human Genome Biodiversity Project deepened fears of indigenous peoples about the exploitation of their knowledge and cultural practice. Already 'bioprospecting' from the medical knowledge of indigenous peoples accounts for more than 75 % of plant-derived prescription drugs (Knudtson and Suzuki, cited in New Zealand Conservation Authority: 22). The First International Conference on the Cultural and Intellectual Property Rights of Indigenous Peoples was held over 6 days in 1993 (the United Nations International Year for the World's Indigenous Peoples), hosted by the nine tribes of Mataatua. “Over 150 delegates from 14 countries attended, including indigenous representatives from Ainu (Japan), Australia, Cook Islands, Fiji, India, Panama, Peru, Philippines, Surinam, USA, and Aotearoa.” (Mataatua Declaration: 1). Delegates discussed issues including: “the value of indigenous knowledge, biodiversity and biotechnology, customary environmental management, arts, music, language and other physical and spiritual cultural forms.” (Mataatua Declaration: 1)

These discussions lead to the passing of the Mataatua Declaration on the final day.

The body of the Declaration consists of four parts.
1. A list of statements. These include the right to self-determination, the common experience of indigenous peoples to exploitation of their cultural and intellectual property, the benefits of this knowledge to all humanity and their willingness to share this if their rights are protected, and a declaration that all forms of discrimination and exploitation of indigenous peoples must stop.

2. Recommendations to indigenous peoples. These are focused on regaining control over their intellectual and cultural property. They include defining that property and developing a code of ethics in regards to use, prioritising education in traditional knowledge, reacquiring lands, maintaining traditional practices, and working with other indigenous peoples.

3. Recommendations to states, national and international agencies, and their responsibilities in recognising the rights and expectations of indigenous people, and to biodiversity and customary environmental management.

4. Recommendations to the United Nations, including the responsibility for participation and representation of indigenous peoples, monitoring and action against states who damage the rights of indigenous people, adoption of the Mataatua Declaration, and an end to the Human Genome Diversity Project.

The Declaration is not written from a western legal concept of intellectual and cultural property rights, but from a radically different perspective. Because it comes from an internationally represented forum and is directed at states, the United Nations, and indigenous peoples around the world, it does not explicitly refer to Māori concepts. It is obvious though, that Māori who contributed to the Declaration saw it as an expression of the mana of indigenous peoples, tino rangatiratanga, and the tapu of mātauranga. The first statement, the right to self determination, is clearly an assertion of tino rangatiratanga of indigenous peoples. The second statement, on the exploitation of indigenous cultural and intellectual property, can be seen as asserting that their rangatiratanga has been ignored. In Māori terms, cultural and intellectual property are mātauranga. The remaining statements speak of the tapu of this mātauranga, and the rangatiratanga of indigenous peoples in relation to it. As a whole, the Declaration aims to re-establish the mana of the indigenous peoples.

The Mataatua Declaration has the potential to reshape international (and national) law and thinking around cultural and intellectual property. International law reflects Western concepts of intellectual property where the focus is exploitation of information and encouraging innovation (Ministry of Economic Development: 3). Patents are granted allowing property rights for a limited time where there is novelty and invention, but not where something is part of the 'common heritage of mankind' or the 'public domain' (Young: 2). It has been argued that this is a “terra nullius perspective” (Mead, cited in Williams: 8): it allows innovation based on generations of research and use by indigenous peoples to be patented by others, and at the same time denies indigenous people the right to protect their own knowledge if it is not novel or innovative, or is widely known. The Mataatua Declaration is focused on control over the cultural and intellectual property of indigenous peoples, and protecting it from exploitation. This has been called the clash between the underpinnings of the Intellectual Property Rights system and Indigenous Peoples Rights and Obligations (Solomon: 3, 4). At its foundation is the right of indigenous people to self-determination, and to not be subject to foreign legal concepts that always seem to lead to their exploitation.

Conclusion

The relationship between ourselves and Tāne is extremely important. Tāne is our tūpuna, and has nurtured and protected people since he was instructed to do so by Hine-nui-te-Pō. A Māori worldview sees that we are in a relationship that requires us to treat Tāne with respect, to ensure that our actions do not degrade or destroy the forests. Over generations, mātuaranga has developed to the point that there was balance in that relationship.

Western politics is still struggling to understand people as part of nature, as dependent on the environment, rather than having dominion over it. A European worldview has traditionally struggled to see other worldviews or ways of being as equally valid to itself. European law and thinking has been imposed over this land. This has led to two centuries of environmental destruction in New Zealand. Māori have resisted in many ways, maintaining a relationship with the environment as far as possible. The Wai 262 and Mataatua Declaration are two ongoing attempts to force the Crown to recognise the prior relationship of tangata whenua with this land, with the goal being to rebuild that relationship.

Like the Te Reo Māori Waitangi Claim, The Wai 262 Claim and the Mataatua Declaration show us a way forward. Just as that Claim has helped to remind us of the value of te reo Māori, so these documents remind us of the value of mātauranga Māori. I hope that they will contribute to the same sort of revitalisation for mātauranga Māori as we have seen for te reo Māori. Perhaps, as Ocean Mercier suggests, we will see mātauranga Māori recognised as an official knowledge system of New Zealand, with strategies to increase its practice in the home (Mercier: 9/9/2010).

The Wai 262 Claim and the Mataatua Declaration each provide an alternative to the currently dominant Western legal paradigm, with their authors assuming the right to determine tikanga, rather than to be trapped trying to fit indigenous values into Western legal concepts. In doing this, they each remind us of where we are: we belong to this whenua, we have the responsibility to defend and protect it according to the tikanga and mātauranga that evolved here. Those duties were never ceded to the Crown, they can never be ceded to anyone, because they are based in whakapapa. Rangatiratanga remains with tangata whenua. Both documents show that we currently do not have the power to enforce this, but they remind us why we are fighting for that power: not so that we can be successful according to Pākehā values and laws, but rather to re-establish our own values and law that work for us.

Although neither document are likely to have any immediately large effect on Crown policy, they are part of the process of grinding the Crown down, exposing the lies and injustices that it has built its sovereignty on. They are an important step in the movement towards self-determination for tangata whenua worldwide.

ORAL SOURCES
Mercier, Ocean (9/9/2010) Speaking at 'WAI 262 Seminar: What could Wai 262 hold for the future?' organised by VUW MBUS401 Post-graduate students

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Best (a), Elsdon (1995) Māori Religion and Mythology: Part One. Te Papa Tongarewa, Wellington

Best (b), Elsdon (1977) Forest Lore of the Maori. Government Printer, Wellington

Brougham, AE and AW Reed (1987) The Reed Book of Māori Proverbs. Reed, Wellington

Mead, Hirini Moko (2003) Tikanga Māori: Living by Māori Values. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Ministry of Economic Development. New Zealand (2005) Information Sheet: Treaty of Waitangi Claim WAI 262. Ministry of Economic Development

Mueller-Dombois, D (1986) “Perspectives for an etiology of stand-level dieback” Annual review of Ecology and Systematics 17

Ogden, J, CH Lusk and MG Steel (1993) “Episodic mortality, forest decline and diversity in a dynamic landscape: Tongariro National Park, New Zealand”. Forest Decline in the Atlantic and Pacific Region Edited by RF Huettl and D Mueller-Dombois. Springer-Verlag, Berlin

Paget-Clarke, Nic (2001) “Interview with S Jackson” In Motion Magazine http://www.inmotionmagazine.com/nztrip/sj1.html

Solomon, Maui (2000) “Intellectual Property Rights and Indigenous Peoples' Rights and Obligations” Paper presented to the Workshop on Instruments for Access and Benefit Sharing from Genetic Resources and Related Traditional Knowledge Issues. Global Biodiversity Forum 15, Kenya

Tau, Rawiri Te Maire (2003) Ngā Pikitūroa o Ngai Tahu: The Oral Traditions of Ngāi Tahu. University of Otago Press, Dunedin

Te Rangihiroa (1958) The Coming of The Māori. Whitcombe and Tombs, Wellington

Tomas, Nin (1994) “Implementing Kaitiakitanga under the RMA” New Zealand Environmental Law Reporter 39

Williams, David (2001) Matuaranga Maori and Taonga: The Nature and Extent of Treaty Rights held by Iwi and Hapu in Indigenous Flora and Fauna, Cultural Heritage Objects and Valued Traditional Knowledge. Waitangi Tribunal

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Conservation Authority. New Zealand (2008) “The Māori Universe” Compiled in Law 1/1: The Laws of Tāne: Compilation of Readings and Resources. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Diploma in Māori Laws and Philosophy, Ōtaki

The Indigenous Flora and Fauna Claim: WAI 262 (1991)

Jackson, Moana (2008) “Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law” Compiled in Law 1.6: Whakapapa and the Beginning of Law: Compilation of Readings and Resources. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Diploma in Māori Laws and Philosophy, Ōtaki

The Mataatua Declaration on Cultural and Intellectual Property Rights of Indigenous Peoples (1993)

Mikaere, Ani (16-17 November 2006) “Whakapapa and Taonga: Connecting the Memory” Paper presented at Te Puna Maumahara: Rōpū Tuku Iho Repositories conference. Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki

Te Tiriti o Waitangi (1840)

The Treaty of Waitangi (1840)

Young, Susan (2000) “The Patentability of Maori Traditional Medicine and the Morality Exclusion in the Patents Act 1953” LLB Honours Paper, Victoria University Wellington

The Emissions Trading Scheme and The Māori Party

2010-09-30T13:07:00.003+13:00

I wrote this for school last year. Although it isn't topical now, I think it foreshadows some of the stuff that's happening (or not happening) with the Māori Party on the Takutai Moana bill.

Introduction

Andrea Tunks describes the over-arching environmental aim of tangata whenua as the protection of Aotearoa, the Earth and the Earth's atmosphere in accordance with Maori Kaitiaki obligations (Tunks: 68). Māori often refer only to Papatūānuku when speaking of the need to protect the environment; the need to protect Ranginui, or the Earth's atmosphere, is just as important, and is often implied if not articulated. Climate change, in particular, is an issue caused by long-term degradation of Ranginui through industry emitting ever-larger quantities of greenhouse gases. These greenhouse gases add to the greenhouse effect, trapping more heat in the atmosphere, which is available as energy in climate systems. Not only does the world climate become warmer, it becomes more extreme. Climate change has been on the political agenda for decades: in 1988, internationally the Inter-governmental Panel on Climate Change was established giving its first report in 1990, and locally the New Zealand Ministry for the Environment established a Climate Change Programme to investigate the science, impacts of and policies for addressing climate change. It is an issue that the Māori Party, along with most New Zealand political parties and scientific authorities, believes requires urgent attention.

After decades of talk and inaction, there has been a burst of activity in the last two years. The 2008 Climate Change Response (Emissions Trading) Amendment Bill gave a mechanism for responding to climate change. It created the New Zealand Emissions Trading Scheme, which applied an economy-wide cost to activities that contribute to climate change, and benefit to activities that reduced or mitigated climate change. It was an all-sectors, all-gases response, meaning that when fully implemented it would apply across all sectors of the economy and all greenhouse gases. Just months after this scheme was announced (and one month after a change of Government), in December 2008 under the confidence and supply agreement between New Zealand National and the ACT New Zealand Party, the Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee was established to review that scheme. All political Parties in Parliament (excluding the Progressive Party) were represented on this Review Committee, including the Māori Party, represented by Rahui Katene. The Committee received submissions from nearly 300 organisations and individuals, 95 of which gave oral submissions. Advice was received from the Ministry for the Environment, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Specialist advice was purchased from Frazer Lindstrom Limited, PricewaterhouseCoopers and 37 degrees South.

The resulting report made recommendations about climate change responses to the Government. Four minority views were included in the report, one each from the Labour Party, Green Party, ACT New Zealand Party, and Māori Party. It is the latter view, which opposed an emissions trading scheme, and the Māori Party shift to supporting the specific emissions trading scheme proposed by the Government, that this essay will focus on.

Māori Party view

In 2008, Tariana Turia said of the Climate Change (Emissions Trading and Renewable Preference) Bill:

“Fundamentally, the emissions trading scheme is limited by being nothing more than an emissions trading scheme, when what we really require is an emissions reduction programme … Reducing our emissions is about honouring our commitment to those who have passed on that we will leave this planet in a better state than it is now for those who come after us … To make the world a better place we need to live differently and we all need to live differently.” (Turia, 28/8/2008)

The Māori Party minority report in the Review of the Emissions Trading Scheme and Related Matters, 2009 reflected this position, stating that:

“the nation urgently needs to grapple with the notion of sustainability and the increasing challenge posed by a changing climate system and pending peak oil to think and live differently, to live sustainably.” (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 114)

According to that document, the Māori Party was opposed to an emissions trading scheme as a mechanism for achieving this goal, for both fundamental and specific reasons, and preferred instead a carbon tax. The fundamental reason given for opposition was that an emissions trading scheme:

“allows sectors to pollute and trade up to the Kyoto target, but … does not include incremental emissions reduction targets in its design. With the emphasis on trading—establishing and maintaining the conditions for it—the overarching problem of unsustainable economic growth remains unaddressed.” (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 113)

The Māori Party was opposed to this specific emissions trading scheme because of its relative ineffectiveness and inequalities, including the subsidisation of the nation's largest polluters at the cost of households and small-medium businesses.(Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee, p 113)

The report concludes that the Māori Party urge the government to develop a wide-ranging sustainability framework in which to consider policy development on climate change, renewable energy, transport, roading, industry, employment and so on, to best ensure our collective well being. Current and future Kyoto targets are a minimum response to addressing climate change. (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 114)

Specific reasons for opposing an emissions trading scheme given in this report were (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 113):

an Emissions Trading Scheme will not make a significant contribution to lowering our domestic emissions
the Māori Party was unconvinced that the market is the best mechanism to set prices on carbon
the current mode of living in developed countries is not sustainable into the future
The urgency of the climate-change crisis demands the development and implementation of an effective scheme that is not reliant on whether or when the price of carbon increases to a sufficient level to incentivise change.
intensity-based allocations and subsidies distort the market model by allowing businesses to increase their emissions without penalty, and be rewarded for it.

Reasons given in this report for preferring a carbon tax were (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 114):

a carbon tax is simpler
a carbon tax provides certainty of price
if set high enough and applied to all sectors, a carbon tax incentivises polluters to change without the option of trading their way out and continuing with business as usual
tax revenue from a carbon tax could be used for research and policy development, assisting households and communities vulnerable to increased living costs from the scheme, and to offset health and environmental effects of global warming.

They state that the Māori Party remains deeply concerned that an ETS remains a stand-in for a more comprehensive climate change policy, and that complementary measures rely on the notion that scientific and technological innovation is capable of manipulating the environment to enable the nation to continue as we are. The resources of Papatuanuku are finite … The Māori Party strongly believes that more needs to be done. Instead of relying on carbon sinks from forestry or buying credits on the international market to achieve our targets, we need to be focused on decreasing domestic emissions. (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 114)

This is a clearly and strongly stated commitment to the environment, to sustainable living, and to contributing to a global solution on climate change. It is an equally clearly and strongly stated opposition to an emissions trading scheme, with very specific and clearly articulated reasons. The Māori Party view is especially opposed to a less stringent version of an emissions trading scheme than the one in place at the time of the report. Turia's earlier statements opposing an emissions trading scheme show that the Māori Party had, until this point, maintained a consistent position that such a scheme was an insufficient response to climate change.

This report was completed August, 2009. In the week following completion, the Māori Party was attempting to change its minority view (submitted literally days earlier), delaying release of the report (see questions in Hansard 27/8/2009); by mid-September it was announcing its support for the National Party's revised emissions trading scheme. What made this turn-around most surprising was that the Māori Party had opposed the current emissions trading scheme because it was an inadequate and easily avoided response to greenhouse emissions, whereas the National Party's revisions are generally held to weaken the scheme (For example, The Press editorial, 19/09/2009).

How then did the Māori Party come to completely change their position? And given their statements about the ineffectiveness of the scheme to protect the environment, and their commitment to that environment, how are they justifying supporting the scheme proposed under the Climate Change Response (Moderated Emissions Trading) Amendment Bill?

The new Māori Party position

Changes to the Scheme

In speaking of the current scheme, the Māori Party said it continues to oppose the introduction of an ETS ... and would do so more strongly if a replacement scheme were to be less effective and more inequitable (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 113). It is therefore useful to look at the changes proposed to the current emissions trading scheme by the National Party sponsored Climate Change Response (Moderated Emissions Trading) Amendment Bill, which the Māori Party supports, to see whether they make it more or less effective and equitable.

These changes are (Clark, Weeks, Nicholls, Bougen and Appleyard, 2009):

transport fuels will come into the scheme six months earlier (July 1, 2010)
electricity and industrial processes will come in six months later (July 1, 2010)
agriculture (New Zealand's largest contributor to greenhouse emissions) will come in two years later (January 1, 2015)
for 2½ years after entry (from July 1, 2010 to January 1, 2013), transport, energy and industrial sectors will only pay for 50% of their emissions, and (until at least January 1, 2013) the price will be capped at $25 per tonne (in its report, the Māori Party specifically opposed taxpayers subsidising the nation's largest polluters in this way (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 113), and was concerned that price caps would be introduced without fixed end dates, as these are)
allocation of free units to trade exposed industry will be on an intensity basis (the Māori Party specifically opposed this in its report saying intensity based allocations distort the market model by allowing protected businesses to increase their emissions without penalty, and to be rewarded for it (Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee: 113))
free allocations will be phased out at 1.3% per year, down from 8.5% now.

All but the first of these changes lessen the effectiveness of the scheme in reducing emissions. In addition, two of these changes were opposed by the Māori Party in its minority view report because they were inequitable, transferring the cost of polluting from polluters to taxpayers. So the scheme the Māori Party supports should be less acceptable to it than the one it opposed. How do they explain this?

Flavell speech

On September 24, 2009, the Climate Change Response (Moderated Emissions Trading) Bill was presented to the House of Parliament for the first reading. Te Ururoa Flavell spoke on behalf of the Māori Party (as opposed to Rahui Katene who was both the Māori Party representative on the Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee, and the Māori Party spokesperson for the environment). In his speech, he re-iterated the commitment of the Māori Party to the preservation of our environment and the need to invest in ensuring that the finite resources of Papatūānuku are safeguarded, and many other statements made in the Māori Party minority view report. He also outlined the reasons the Māori Party felt able to support the first reading of this Bill.

The provisions that the Māori Party has had added to the Bill at this stage are:

an as yet undrafted amendment that will make specific reference to Te Tiriti o Waitangi
a halving of the increased cost of petrol and electricity for the first 2½ years of the scheme.

In addition, there are many statements about possible results of negotiations. For example, Flavell (24/9/2009) says the Māori Party:

seeks an extension of the Government's energy efficiency assistance scheme, specifically targeted at low-income households
has come to the Government with some very specific proposals around afforestation and offsetting (where liabilities from deforestation can be offset against tree-planting elsewhere)
expect that the Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group will play an ongoing role in international negotiations to allow for offsetting
expect that the possibility of a Crown and iwi partnership will be scoped
are arguing for the inclusion of post-1989 indigenous forests and the publishing of accurate tables of the carbon sequestered in them
argue that the Māori Party be actively engaged in ongoing dialogue on a broader environmental policy programme.

Rhetoric aside, it appears that the Māori Party has traded some economic help for the public, inclusion of a Treaty of Waitangi clause, and the promise of goodwill and future consideration on some issues, against a weaker response to climate change. In an October 18 interview speaking of this deal with the Government, Māori Party co-leader Tariana Turia (18/10/2009) admits We haven't had a lot of concession.

There are several things that make this even more surprising. First, the one unarguable concession is the reduction in increased cost of petrol and electricity. The Māori Party was opposed to subsidies and price-caps for industry because they are unfair and inequitable, transferring the cost of pollution to the public. Presumably, the subsidies on petrol and electricity are considered to offset this, making the proposed scheme more equitable. However, the public will still pay in taxes for the subsidies to industry, as well as those on petrol and electricity. Although it looks like an economic gain for households, the money must come from somewhere—either increased taxes, or reduced services. It is unlikely that a National Government will spare this burden from low-income earners.

Second, with very little change to the wording and none to the substance, Flavell's speech could easily have been a list of reasons why the Māori Party are unable to support this Bill. There are so many expectations and ongoing negotiations listed, all of which must represent shortcomings of the proposed scheme from the Māori Party perspective. It has been the experience of Māori to sign many documents on the understanding that beneficial provisions or improvements would be added later, and for those benefits to never eventuate. Rather than completing discussions so they are sure of what they are voting for, the Māori Party acted quickly to support the Bill. They have no guarantees of what the Government will concede. Presumably, this haste was because of the Government's desire to have the Bill enacted prior to the United Nations Conference in Copenhagen in December this year. It may be in the Government's interests, in terms of international moral high ground and grandstanding, to rush an agreement on this Bill, but I cannot understand how it is beneficial to the Māori Party. There is already an emissions trading scheme in place, and one which is more inclined towards the environment and Māori Party principles. In addition, without the support of the Labour Party there will not be a broad consensus on the Bill, so there is nothing to be gained in terms of certainty and security by supporting the Government's proposals. It therefore seems that the Māori Party was in a very strong position to negotiate for improvements, or to reject the scheme. I cannot understand why this did not translate to more concrete improvements in the Bill. Unless as a result of consultation, the Māori Party was not seeking such improvements.

Consultation with Māori on Emissions Trading Scheme

Climate change has been seriously on the international political agenda for around 20 years, but it is only in the last few years that there has been any urgency in responding.

In 2002, the Government passed the Climate Change Response Act to enable New Zealand to meet its obligations under the Kyoto Protocol. On December 18, 2006, the Government released a number of documents that contained information on New Zealand's options for responding to climate change. Despite the slow progress to this point, the huge amount of information in these documents, and the importance and wide-ranging implications of the proposals, the Government gave an extremely short timeframe for consultation. They organised eleven regional consultation hui with Māori, from 12 February, 2007 until 14 March 2007, with a twelfth hui added on 29 March 2007. This meant that participants at the early hui had less than 2 months (including Christmas/ New Year) to read, understand and consult on the documents the Government had given them. At each hui, attendees were required to discuss the information and elect a single representative to a Climate Change Māori Reference Group for a final consultative hui on 21 March 2007. Submissions were due by 30 March 2007. (Ministry for the Environment, 2007)

In July 2007, the Māori Reference Group met with Ministers David Parker, Michael Cullen and Parekura Horomia to hear the Government response to their submission, and decided to establish an executive group (the Māori Reference Group Executive) (1). The following day, Ministers Cullen, Horomia and Jim Anderton met with "a collective of iwi leaders" (Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group and Māori Reference Group Executive, 2008) to outline the Government's preferred response to climate change. From this collective, a leadership group was established, which included Apirana Mahuika, Paul Morgan, Timi Te Heuheu, and later Mark Solomon. (2) This was initially called the Climate Change Māori Leadership Group, but has since been changed to the Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group (and is usually now referred to as simply the Iwi Leadership Group, speaking on issues less directly related to climate change). This Group organised a National Māori Climate Change Hui in Rotorua in October 2007, with three subsequent hui in November, December and February held in Hamilton and Wellington. At each of the hui organised by iwi leaders, the Iwi Leadership Group and the Māori Reference Group Executive were supported unanimously, as well as at two meetings of iwi leaders in February 2008. A statement in a letter to Ministers Cullen, Anderton, Horomia, Nanaia Mahuta, Trevor Mallard and Parker dated 13 December 2007 from the Iwi Leadership Group in response to an Officials' Report is telling:

"… we have advocated on two platforms. The first platform is the Treaty of Waitangi and the second is the Māori Economy. Due to the tight timeframes and the economic nature of the ETS, we have focussed on the economic impacts."(Mahuika, 2007)

The Iwi Leadership Group and Māori Reference Group Executive gave a joint submission on the Climate Change (Emissions Trading and Renewable Preference) Bill to the Finance and Expenditure Committee on 29 February 2008. It is implied in statements from the Māori Party that the Iwi Leadership Group has been actively lobbying both the Māori Party and the Government prior to and since the last election (eg, Turia, 18/10/2009 ). Although the Māori Party is not willing to talk about its relationship with, or the effect of lobbying by, the Iwi Leadership Group, their positions on an emissions trading scheme are now very closely aligned.

To summarise the Government consultation process with Māori:

consultation has been organised by the Government on their terms
from the beginning, the Government has imposed unrealistic timeframes for Māori to understand all the issues and implications, to discuss widely and form opinions on this, and to communicate these to the Government
at all of the first twelve consultation hui, participants were concerned that:
the focus of an emissions trading scheme was too strongly on economics at the expense of the environment (with environmental benefits unclear), the Treaty, and a Māori world view and broad tikanga approach;
there was no obvious way for Māori to have meaningful input; and
that it was inequitable with no analysis of the effects on Māori, and our largest and richest industries protected from the cost of their polluting that we instead pay for
(These criticisms are very similar to the original Māori Party report.)
at each stage, groups have become smaller and less representative:
by requiring the consultation hui to elect only one representative each to form a group that was to represent all Māori (without the time to make this possible),
by reducing that group to an executive (presumably because of commitments and time constraints), and
by the role of the Iwi Leadership Group
despite the feedback from the consultation hui that the focus was too economic, for whatever reason at each stage these groups have focused more on economics and less on the other concerns (environment, Māori worldview, Treaty relationships), culminating in the Māori Party completely changing its policy at the request of the Iwi Leadership Group

It appears to me that the twelve consultation hui in February and March 2007 and the Māori Party minority view report both reflected a Māori worldview. Both were asking for less focus on the economic impacts of responding to climate change, and more focus on our responsibilities to the environment and tangata whenua. The framework and timeframe the Government set for consultation meant that, no matter how well-intentioned or well-resourced officials were, meaningful engagement was impossible. Instead, Māori who attended consultation hui were forced to delegate responsibility to those with the most knowledge of the proposals. These few seem to have focussed only on the economic effects of the proposed scheme, rather than a wider look at the issues. One reason for this may be because those involved in the Iwi Leadership Group and the Māori Reference Group Executive felt that there was no time to include the issues raised at earlier stages of consultation. Another may be that it did not suit their specific interests to look at these issues. Either way, their failure to represent Māori concerns, for example, about the exclusion of Māori values, has given the Government a mandate and excuse to weaken a scheme that many argued was already an inadequate response to climate change. And the Māori Party has followed their lead.

In response to a question about what the Māori Party want in return for supporting the Bill, Turia (18/10/2009) replied: in the end, it's not so much particularly what the Māori Party want, it is what the Iwi Leadership want, and they are the ones who have been leading the dialogue, they have been asking us to definitely sign up for it.

Conclusion

The Māori Party campaigns under its kaupapa: rangatiratanga, kaitiakitanga, kotahitanga. Voters are told not to worry about policy details, everything is analysed according to these kaupapa (Fox, 2008). The Iwi Leadership Group is lobbying both Government and the Māori Party for Māori economic interests on behalf of Māori corporates. Turia's statement above shows clearly that the Māori Party has been captured by this Group. Who then is representing non-economic, kaupapa Māori concerns, especially on an issue as important as climate change? If we are expected to trust that the Māori Party is acting according to its kaupapa, then they should at least be helping us by speaking openly about such a massive change in policy direction.

Climate change is an issue that has been neglected for want of political leadership for decades. In the meantime, we are contributing more and more greenhouse gases every year. The Māori Party minority view report reflected Māori concern about this lack of action, commitment and leadership. Participants at the consultation hui with Māori from the start of 2007 were clear that climate change as a result of atmospheric pollution is an issue they have been aware of for a long time, and the Government's response is too little too late. It is sad that by engaging in a consultation process that could never allow their concerns to be heard, those participants have given a mandate to a policy that most did not agree with. The involvement and pressure from the Iwi Leadership Group ironically destroyed any chance of Māori showing leadership on this issue. The Iwi Leadership Group are lobbying for rushing this Bill into legislation so they will have certainty in their financial planning. This is not leadership, it is following the Government's lead and playing by the Government's rules. There is no rush. There is already legislation in place that arguably provides more protection for the environment than the Bill they support. What is needed is education allowing informed discussion and analysis of what response is most appropriate according to Māori values. That would take leadership. And one day, it might even lead to a proper negotiation.

ORAL SOURCES
Flavell, Te Ururoa 24/9/2009 Speech to Parliament

Fox, Derek 2008 Māori Party election campaign speech, Victoria University

Turia, Tariana 28/8/2008 Speech to Parliament

Turia, Tariana 18/10/2009 Interview with Guyon Espiner, TVNZ

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
New Zealand Emissions Trading Scheme Review Committee (2009) Review of the Emissions Trading Scheme and Related Matters. House of Representatives, Wellington

New Zealand Ministry for the Environment (2007) Consultation with Māori on Climate Change: Hui Report. Ministry for the Environment, Wellington

The Press 19/09/2009 Editorial: Maori Party support for emissions trading scheme comes at a cost. The Press, Christchurch

Tunks, A (1997) "Tangata Whenua Ethics and Climate Change" Journal of Environmental Law 67

UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL
Clark, L, T Weeks, A Nicholls, C Bougen, J Appleyard 15/9/2009 "The ETS deal – pure politics” http://www.chapmantripp.com/pages/Publication.aspx?ItemID=641 (accessed 9/10/2009)

Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group & Climate Change Māori Reference Group Executive 29/2/2008 Submission on Climate Change (Emissions Trading and Renewable Preference) Bill to the Finance and Expenditure Committee

Mahuika, Apirana (for and on behalf of the Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group) 13/12/2007 Climate Change Iwi Leadership Group Response to Officials Report

NOTES
1. I have no information on the reason for this, but I expect it was in response to the decision to continue to meet, which required an ongoing commitment. It seems likely that some members were more available or interested than others.
2. Although all references to this group say it 'includes' these four men, I have found no evidence that it includes anyone else.

Dances with Avatars: an interview with the director

2010-09-13T20:07:00.004+12:00

Earlier this year, I managed to get tickets to the movie of the summer. The portrayal of the indigenous homonoid species on the planet is pretty interesting. Instead of jumping to a conclusion about the movie, I wanted to give the director a chance to explain his choices. In this interview, I ask the director about some of the politics behind the movie.

Interviewer: For starters, what about the depiction of indigenous people? As a white man making this movie, were you concerned that you might offend some cultures?

Director: There will always be an extremist minority that take pleasure in being offended by what the majority enjoy. The fact is, minority cultures would never be seen on the big screen if it wasn't for western filmmakers willing to take that risk. I've made this movie for the minorities of the world. My portrayal of indigenous people as big blue spiritualists shows the whole white world the nobility of the indigenous races.

Interviewer: That’s an interesting position. Why the decision to set it on another planet and invent an indigenous people? Why not base it on an actual indigenous culture?

Director: We really wanted to avoid a racist depiction of someone's tribe. Rather than privilege one race over all others by focusing the movie on them, we thought it would be more equitable to combine the best features of all indigenous races into one—that's why they're so big, we had to fit it all in—their strong, slim physiques, their primitivist spirituality and oneness with nature. If you watch closely, all aspects of indigenous races are there. And we chose blue because there actually aren't any native blue-skinned people in the world, most of the other colours were taken already. You know, if we'd chosen black, the native americans would feel left out; if we'd chosen red, the Asians would feel left out; if we'd chosen yellow, you know, we thought blue was more inclusive.

Interviewer: And what about the avatars themselves? What do they symbolise—the separation of modern man from himself and nature? The yearning of the main character to be free from his physical disability, and which ultimately frees him from the world he's been trapped in?

Director: Oh no. People will read all sorts of messages into everything we do. But we wanted to avoid any heavy-handedness. You'll see all the messages are very subtle—if you pay attention, you can actually see that some early scenes could be read as a comment on some current political situations. Rhymes with spy park. I don't want to labour that point though, the movie can be read on many different levels.

Interviewer: So why the avatars then?

Director: Well on one level, because they're cool. And on another level, it was more subtle to have the main characters look like the natives. We didn't want to be accused of being another great-white-hope-to-the-rescue, white-man-saves-the-day movie. God, what a cliché.

Interviewer: Like Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves?

Director: Well that's not a good example, because Kevin Costner's character actually becomes an Indian before he saves the tribe. We wanted to pick up that theme of becoming a native, and then saving them. Like Costner, our main character combines the best of both cultures, the physicality and intuitiveness of native people, and the strategy and technology of western civilisation.

Interviewer: So your movie is a modern Dances with Wolves?

Director: Exactly. Other people have been comparing it to Mr Pip, which I think is a book, so it's not really the same.

Interviewer: And what about the environmental message of your film?

Director: Well, as you know, science fiction is like an exercise in imagine if. Some of my friends and I got to talking about native people's spirituality…

Interviewer: Which native people is this?

Director: Oh sorry, on Earth, not in the movie. We were talking about how they believe they're connected in some way to the earth and other living things. Their whole spirituality is based around this. They even believe that the earth is a living thing like their mother, and in some way it provides for them. It's pretty way out. So, we got to thinking, what if there was a world where that was actually true, where they were right and we were wrong. And that's this movie.

Myths of the foreshore and seabed

2010-09-13T11:27:00.004+12:00

The new foreshore and seabed bill (now the Marine and Coastal Area (Takutai Moana) Bill) is being drafted now, and will be released soon. It seemed a good time to look at the history of discussions about the foreshore and seabed in New Zealand since 1835. This essay asks how we got to the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004. (Apology: I wrote this essay for school, and haven’t had the time to make it more readable. I hope it’s useful anyway)

Introduction

I love the ocean. My parents used to take me to Mission Bay in Auckland when I was little, and when we moved to Whangarei we went to lots of beaches. My Dad's Aunty Eileen and Uncle Rob lived in Tutukaka, and growing up I spent weeks at their house, swimming or going out on Uncle Rob's fishing boat. I wasn't a great swimmer, but I was totally at home in the ocean. The beach, that place where Tangaroa and Papatūānuku are constantly re-negotiating their relationship, is part of who I am. I can't stay away from it.

Of course this isn't unique. New Zealand is a coastal land, and the foreshore and seabed has always been valuable to Māori, both economically (e.g. Durie: 111-113) and, like all land, as part of our whakapapa. At some point, it became important to non-Māori as well. So much so, that the beach is now part of our national identity and, regardless of the differing histories of different areas, many of us believe all of it belongs to all New Zealanders.

But how did this come to be? The assumption that the beach can't belong to anyone, that it belongs to all of us, is as much a constructed myth as any other. How is it that in 2010 we are debating whether preserving the myth of common ownership is more important than facing the reality of stealing more land from tangata whenua?

Treaties

The place to start looking for answers might be the early legal relationships between tangata whenua and the Crown. Each of the three early treaties signed by tangata whenua is relevant to the foreshore and seabed.

The 1835 He Wakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tirene was signed by around 50 northern rangatira (to as far south as Waikato and Hawke’s Bay). It is unambiguous in stating that all authority over the territories (the word in the Māoi text is 'wenua') of the signatories is held exclusively by the rangatira, and no other legislative or governing authority can function unless by permission and under the authority of Te Whakaminenga o Ngā Hapū o Nu Tirene (He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tirene, 1835: Article 2). While it uses the word wenua, and does not explicitly mention the foreshore or seabed, it seems likely that this declaration was intended to cover all the territory used by the signatories, whether under water or not.

The 1840 Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed by around 500 people on behalf of their hapū. It is unambiguous in preserving and protecting the absolute authority of hapū and rangatira over their lands, villages and all that they value; it also allows for the sale of land to the Crown (Te Tiriti o Waitangi, 1840: Ko te tuarua). Again, the foreshore and seabed is not explicitly mentioned, and the word wenua is used. But if the foreshore and seabed is not included as wenua, it is certainly included as taonga.

Finally, the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi was signed by around 30 people on behalf of their hapū. It gives absolute authority to the Queen, but

“confirms and guarantees to the Chiefs and Tribes of New Zealand… the full exclusive and undisturbed possession of their Lands and Estates Forests Fisheries and other properties which they may collectively or individually possess so long as it is their wish and desire to retain the same in their possession” (The Treaty of Waitangi, 1840: Article 2)

In this treaty, even though sovereignty is ceded to the Crown, possession of the foreshore and seabed is guaranteed to rangatira and hapū. If the foreshore and seabed is not considered part of the lands and estates of a hapū, it is certainly part of the fisheries and other properties in collective ownership.

From a brief look at these three documents, it appears that the authors and signatories understood that the foreshore and seabed belonged to tangata whenua, unless at some point they chose to sell it. The idea that the beach belongs to all New Zealanders must therefore originate later. I will look at early land sales to see if they show the start of this belief.

Crown Deeds

Following the 1840 treaties, tangata whenua could only sell land to the Crown. By 1862, two-thirds of the dry land area of New Zealand was covered by a deed of Crown purchase (Boast (b): 72). These early deeds should indicate whether tangata whenua and the Crown considered the foreshore and seabed to be the same as other lands under the authority of hapū, or if the idea was beginning to emerge that these areas are commonly held land.

Early Crown deeds often referred to the foreshore and seabed, either extinguishing or acknowledging Māori rights (Ministerial Review Panel: 103). This indicates that Crown purchase agents recognised Māori proprietary interests (ownership) in those areas. Māori also understood that they retained rangatiratanga of an area unless they specifically relinquished it, whether dry land or foreshore and seabed. For example, Āpihai Te Kawau at the Ōrākei Māori Parliament in 1879: It was only the land that I gave over to the Pākehās. The sea I never gave, and therefore the sea belongs to me. (Te Kawau, cited in Ministerial Review Panel: 23)

The early Crown deeds indicate that at this period both Crown and Māori considered areas of foreshore and seabed to be under the exclusive authority of tangata whenua, unless sold to the Crown. The concept of universal Crown or common ownership must come later than 1862.

Gold and the Native Land Court

In the late 1860s, the discovery of gold meant that some areas of foreshore suddenly became extremely valuable to Europeans. It turns out that this is where the myth of public ownership has its roots. The logic of greed quickly overrode any legal, moral or historical arguments.

Presumably based on these legal, moral and historical arguments, section 9 of the Gold Fields Act Amendment Act 1868 re-affirmed 'native title' over gold field land below the high water mark (Williams: 43). So if the Crown wanted to claim such land, it needed anther parliamentary act. In 1869, Parliament enacted the Shortland Beach Act, which imposed Crown ownership over the seashore adjacent to the Thames goldfield, and extinguished tangata whenua ownership (Williams: 43).

Of course, tangata whenua had a relationship with that land—this could not be ignored just because the Crown wanted to get rich from it. Tangata whenua took their case for title to the Native Land Court (Williams: 43-44).

The Native Land Court was set up in 1864 to make land available for European settlement (Williams: 11); it ended Crown pre-emption, allowing customary title to be converted to freehold title (Ministerial Review Panel: 103). It sometimes worked closely with the Crown, and was always under political pressure from them (and interference where necessary) to ensure this outcome (Williams: 33-50). But tangata whenua had reason to believe that the Native Land Court would be able to judge fairly. In 1870, Chief Justice Fenton stated:

“I can find no reason or law which renders it incompetent for a Maori to have ownership over land covered by the sea at highwater… I am of the opinion that the question of ownership of any portion of the foreshore by a Maori depends simply on a question of fact." (Hauraki Native Land Court minute book 4, 23 July 1870, p 202, cited in Williams: 43)

These words show that at 1870, the Native Land Court believed that the foreshore was not special, and should be treated like any other land.

In the 1870 Kauaeranga case, tangata whenua argued that at 1840 they held exclusive ownership and use of an area of foreshore, and that this property right was guaranteed under the Treaty of Waitangi. The Crown argued that the Treaty of Waitangi was irrelevant—it had gained sovereignty by settlement, and the ownership of the foreshore was an incident of Crown sovereignty (Mikaere, 2010).

The tangata whenua case was successful. Fenton found that they had proven their exclusive ownership at 1840, and that, in exchange for sovereignty, the Crown was bound by the promises of the Treaty of Waitangi. For this, Mikaere has called the case the single greatest success Māori have had in the courts (Mikaere, 2010).

This does not mean that the applicants got what they came for. Fenton awarded them fishing rights, but not ownership of the foreshore, because of 'the great public interests involved'. His judgement speaks of:

“the evil consequences which might ensue from judicially declaring that the soil of the foreshore of the colony will be vested absolutely in the natives, if they can prove certain acts of ownership, especially when I consider how readily they may prove such, and how impossible it is to contradict them if they only agree among themselves.” (Hauraki Native Land Court minute book 4, 23 July 1870, p 245 cited in Williams: 43)

In other words, if the court gave title to the foreshore and seabed whenever Māori could prove ownership, where would that leave the Crown? According to the courts in 1870, Māori legal title had to be subject to public interest, and public interest was getting more Māori land.

Still, even this small victory for tangata whenua was too great for the Crown to endure. It was upset with the outcome because the fishing rights that were awarded to the applicants interfered with Crown mining interests. In response, the Crown restricted the jurisdiction of the Native Land Court in Auckland Province (which included Thames and Coromandel) to exclude foreshore title investigations. In other areas, public opinion had the same effect: judges had become reluctant to issue foreshore titles anyhow, in view of the non-Maori reaction, even where the Maori customary title was clearly established (Waitangi Tribunal, cited in Williams: 44).

This early attempt by Māori to use the Treaty of Waitangi and the Native Land Court had mixed results. The case was successful in using European law to argue in fact that tangata whenua were the owners of that area of foreshore, that they should be given title, and that the Treaty of Waitangi guaranteed this. But the case was unsuccessful in that tangata whenua did not actually get ownership. They had jumped through every legal hoop that had been required of them, and found that European law was not blind. Even when the legal case was clear, judgments favoured Europeans; judges were swayed by their own prejudices, and by pressure from the public and government. And where the Crown did not like a decision, it could trump it with a proclamation.

This, then, is the origin of the present situation. The language of the Kauaeranga judgment is eerily similar to that of the Crown now. So much so that it feels like New Zealand is still in that same colonial land-grabbing mindset. Can it be true that nothing has happened since such a blatantly racist judgment was made 140 years ago?

"What I tell you three times is true"

(Carroll, L, "The Hunting of the Snark")
As Māori have continued to push for their rangatiratanga to be acknowledged, the Crown has used two strategies to try to strengthen its claim to the foreshore and seabed based on prerogative right: repetition and avoidance.

The Harbour Act 1875 prevented sale or alienation of the foreshore without specific legislation. Rather than directly challenge the Native Land Court's ability to decide Māori claims, this formalise[d] a growing assumption that the Crown owned the harbours and foreshore (Durie: 86). The Native Lands Act 1909 confused Māori claims further: requiring that customary resources could only be protected in law if first converted to Crown title (Durie: 86). These laws implied that the Crown had somehow gained sovereignty over these areas, encouraging the belief that Māori ownership had somehow been extinguished. The Crown's strategy appears to rely on the Bellman's Rule (from The Hunting of the Snark), where simply repeating a statement three times makes it true.

At the same time, the Crown avoided a thorough legal test of its ownership of the foreshore and seabed by resorting to arguments over whether the courts had jurisdiction to decide. In 1935, in response to ongoing challenges against the Crown's ownership of the foreshore by prerogative right, the Crown Solicitor wrote: the claim of the Crown is weak. The Department [of Lands and Survey] would prefer that the matter, if possible, be removed from the jurisdiction of the Native Land Court (Crown Solicitor, cited in Bennion, Birdling and Paton: 1). This suggests that the Crown intended to protect its assumption of title, not by proving it, but by taking away any opportunity to test it.

In 1957, tangata whenua asked the Māori Land Court for an investigation of title of the foreshore of Ninety Mile Beach (Durie: 86), which it did, dividing the beach between two iwi (Ministerial Review Panel: 104). The Crown appealed to the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, questioning whether the Māori Land Court could issue such titles. The Supreme Court found that the Māori Land Court did not have jurisdiction to hear the case, because the Harbours Act 1950 required that any grant of the foreshore had to be by special Act (Durie: 86). In other words, in order to prove ownership of the foreshore, tangata whenua would first need the Crown to write legislation saying that the Crown did not have ownership. It is hard to interpret this as anything other than the Supreme Court protecting the Crown.

The Court of Appeal gave a confusing ruling that had the same result. It rejected the Crown's argument of prerogative right, but found that Māori customary title to the entire foreshore had effectively been extinguished by investigations of title in the Māori Land Court (Boast (b), p 106)—even though many areas had never been investigated by that court. In fact, there had been no previous investigation of title by the Māori Land Court in the case they were actually deciding. Perhaps like Fenton in 1870, the Court of Appeal was worried about the precedent if they allowed customary title wherever it could be proven. Perhaps the court thought that it could not simply accept the tangata whenua argument but refuse to award title (as Fenton did), so instead it devised an alternative basis for Crown ownership (Boast (b): 106). The ruling meant that Māori title needed to come from statute: the court had effectively ceded jurisdiction to the Crown to decide on cases against the Crown.

Our highest court had created a test of ownership that would successfully protect the Crown for a further 40 years. Following this decision, the Crown continued with its strategy of repetition, behaving as if Māori title to the foreshore and seabed had been extinguished, and thereby re-enforcing the myth of public ownership. Eventually, the courts would refuse to help the Crown. It would need to fall back on the strength of its mythmaking to convince New Zealanders that our right to go to the beach is more important than the property rights of tangata whenua.

Arguing jurisdiction

In the 1980s and 1990s, tangata whenua of Te Tau Ihu o te Waka found the regulations around marine farming made it impossible for them to set up marine farms. In 1997, they asked the Māori Land Court to recognise the foreshore and seabed of the Marlborough Sounds to the territorial limit as customary land according to Te Ture Whenua Māori Act 1993 (Durie: 87).

The Māori Land Court agreed that customary title continued after 1840 and had not been extinguished by any general or specific legislation (Te Aho: 121). It found that the Ninety Mile Beach ruling was not relevant in this case, because the land had been acquired by pre-emptive purchase (so there had been no investigation of title by the Native Land Court extinguishing customary title of the foreshore and seabed) (Boast (b): 106). The Māori Land Court therefore decided it had jurisdiction to investigate whether tangata whenua had interests in the foreshore and seabed of the area in question (Ministerial Review Panel: 105-106).

The idea that the courts could have jurisdiction to decide title based only on fact and legal arguments was too much for the Crown. It appealed to the Māori Apellate Court, which sent the case to the High Court. The Crown reverted to the reasoning that had saved it in both the Kauaeranga and the Ninety Mile Beach judgments—national interest. According to this argument, it is irrelevant whether the legal owner of the foreshore and seabed (as at 1840) ever gave up their title; likewise, it is irrelevant whether it was ever taken from them. What is relevant is that finding in favour of tangata whenua would make all other citizens trespassers over the coastal strip and affected seabed, waters and air above them and would affect environmental reform and international obligations (Durie: 88). The High Court agreed with the Crown. Regarding the foreshore, this was based on Ninety Mile Beach. Regarding the seabed, the court held that the Territorial Sea and Exclusive Economic Zone Act extinguished customary title to the seabed (Ministerial Review Panel: 106).

Tangata whenua appealed to the Court of Appeal. Because of the significance of this case, it took the Court of Appeal a year from hearing the arguments to releasing its decision, which was in favour of tangata whenua. Like the Māori Land Court, the Court of Appeal found that the Māori Land Court had jurisdiction in deciding Māori interests in the foreshore and seabed. This does not mean that the court found that Māori own the foreshore and seabed. Rather it means that courts will decide whether or not tangata whenua hold title to specific areas of foreshore and seabed based on the facts relating to those areas.

And back to public ownership

To me, the Court of Appeal decision seems reasonable and logical. I imagine New Zealanders expect court cases, whether investigations of title or any other matter, to be decided on the relevant facts. And yet the Government was able to convince many New Zealanders that something about this is not fair. That by allowing the courts to decide individual cases based on facts, the public is somehow losing something important. In reality, all that was lost was the incorrect belief that the Crown owned the beaches.

The Government announced that it would introduce legislation which would "establish what has long been assumed that the beaches and seabeds have long been there for all New Zealanders" (cited in Durie: 92). In 2004, they passed the Foreshore and Seabed Act:

“The object of this Act is to preserve the public foreshore and seabed in perpetuity as the common heritage of all New Zealanders in a way that enables the protection by the Crown of the public foreshore and seabed on behalf of all the people of New Zealand, including the protection of the association of whānau, hapū, and iwi with areas of the public foreshore and seabed. (Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004, s 3)”

The Act only affects customary Māori land—land that otherwise could be converted to freehold title if tangata whenua rights have not been extinguished. It does not touch the ‘parcels’ of private foreshore and seabed. Until the Court of Appeal decision, tangata whenua had no chance to investigate title to areas of foreshore and seabed, they could not convert their customary title to freehold (private) title.

However the Crown frames it, the Foreshore and Seabed Act is a confiscation, the same as any other colonial confiscation. Their reaction to the Court of Appeal decision allowing courts to investigate Māori title to areas of foreshore and seabed, showed that preserving the rule of law is less important than entrenching Crown assumptions of sovereignty. Especially when that assumption is found to be illegitimate.

The review of the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 found that it should be repealed. Parliament is currently finishing a draft Bill to replace the Act. All the signs are that it will use different language to do essentially the same thing as the 2004 Act.

The Crown has discussed tests for customary ownership that require proof of continuous and exclusive use and occupation (New Zealand Government: 36). This means that if tangata whenua left an area, whether because they sold the land, or because the Crown forced them to leave, they would fail the test. As this essay has touched on, the Crown has taken land from tangata whenua in many ways; this test would punish tangata whenua for those thefts, while rewarding the public of New Zealand.

The Crown has discussed a form of customary ownership. Even in the cases where tangata whenua are able to prove exclusive and continuous use and occupation, the courts would not give them title, but would instead award customary title. Customary title (whatever they end up calling it) would be a limited ownership. It would allow some management rights of the area by including some influence in the permit and resource consent process, conservation process and planning documents of the area. It would not include the right to sell the land, nor to restrict public access, fishing and navigation, or existing use rights (New Zealand Government: 40).

I cannot follow the logic of this. On the one hand, the Crown may now be willing to acknowledge that there are areas of foreshore and seabed where tangata whenua have kept mana whenua. On the other hand, the Crown intends to define which rights it will ‘grant’ to those people in those areas. How can this be fair? If tangata whenua have not ceded rangatiratanga of an area, then it is up to them to define their relationship with that area.

Conclusion

The Crown was so successful at maintaining its myth of ownership of the foreshore and seabed, that it has currently made it reality. For the time being, the foreshore and seabed actually does belong to all New Zealanders. We have come to believe that our love of the beach trumps any previous claims or connections to that beach; our right to the beach is more important than anyone else’s. And yet New Zealanders often describe ourselves as having 'a sense of fair play' and egalitarianism, always backing the underdog (e.g. www.newzealand.com, accessed 16/8/2010). By allowing our government to confiscate Māori rights to the foreshore and seabed, we have exposed these national ‘traits’ as lies.

Through a concerted effort of self interest and amnesia, with loads of help from our education system, most New Zealanders now believe it is fair and reasonable to deny titles to the foreshore and seabed to tangata whenua, no matter how deserving their case. Many New Zealanders seem upset that Māori may again be allowed to contest these property rights in court. Because, although property rights should always be protected, Māori property rights are somehow different from other private property rights.

Colonisation is built on the belief that it is always in the national interest to take land from tangata whenua. The Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 showed that New Zealand is still in colonisation mode. I suspect the new foreshore and seabed bill will be just the same.

ORAL SOURCES
Mikaere, Ani (23/7/2010) "The Treaty of Waitangi" Delivery to Year 2 Poutuarongo Ahunga Tikanga students, Te Wānanga-o-Raukawa, Ōtaki

PUBLISHED MATERIAL
Bennion, Tom, Malcolm Birdling and Rebecca Paton (2004) Making Sense of the Foreshore and Seabed Maori Law Review, Wellington

Boast (a), Richard (2004) "Māori Land and the Treaty of Waitangi" Māori Land Law (2nd ed.) Edited by Richard Boast, Andrew Eruiti, Doug McPhail and Norman F Smith. LexisNexis

Boast (b), Richard (2004) "The Evolution of Māori Land Law 1862-1993" Māori Land Law (2nd ed.) Edited by Richard Boast, Andrew Eruiti, Doug McPhail and Norman F Smith. LexisNexis

Durie, Mason (2005) Ngā Tai Matatū: Tides of Māori Endurance Oxford University Press, Melbourne

Government. New Zealand (2010) Reviewing the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 Consultation Document

Ministerial Review Panel (2009) Pākia ki Uta, Pākia ki Tai: Ministerial Review of the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004, Volume 1 Government Printer, Wellington

Te Aho, Linda (2010) "Judicial Creativity" Weeping Waters: The Treaty of Waitangi and Constitutional Change Edited by Malcolm Mulholland and Veronica Tawhai. Huia Publishers, Wellington

Williams, David V (1999) Te Kooti Tango Whenua: The Native Land Court 1864-1909 Huia Publishers, Wellington

NOTES
1. Incidentally, Crown pre-emption also applies to wenua. So if the foreshore and seabed are excluded from the meaning of wenua in Ko te tuarua, they should also have been excluded from Crown pre-emption

2. Although Crown pre-emption was sometimes waived, this is broadly true. The Native Lands Act 1862 waived all Crown pre-emption, but it was re-instated in some areas until the Native Land Act 1909. (Boast (a), p 13).

3. Whether or not these deeds reflect legitimate purchases, were signed under coercion, or are honest representations of the agreements made, is beyond the scope of this essay.

2007-04-11T12:25:00.000+12:00

exercise 5: write about a noun (I didn't really get it, but our model was a story called boys)

Wheels

The wheels on the bus, on the bicycle, on the car, the skateboard, the trolley, the truck, all go round.

The wheel revolutionised thinking. Time became circular – seconds, hours, seasons turning and returning endlessly. The thing with wheels, as you move away from a point, you move toward it just as fast. One revolution and you're back to precisely where you started. Was this the end of progress?

The boys spin their wheels as the world turns. They hide behind alcohol and steering wheels. Their cars and macho bullshit – bravado, insults and violence – a lager of circled wagons protecting them from feeling. They look for someone to feel with. Learn their lines by rotery, recycle what someone said worked for them. Their revolution will not happen between these thighs. Their revolution will not happen. Not by television, not by degrees. Not.

The pill revolutionised sex – allowed us to control our reproductive cycles, no reason to say no. Leads to a hospital ward, where nurses wheel babies away from teenage girls towards nice white couples. Diametric. Do they have a colour wheel they compare these babies to – spin it fast and we're all white? My tangent – can we be diaspora in our own country? My central point, every revolution takes you back to the start.

While recognising the cycles, we're still rats racing. The big wheels of business and government turn the wheels of justice. The fortunate push their barrows, wheeling and dealing. Dictating the wheels our shoulders are put to. The process is protected – wheels within wheels and no-one can see it whole. But the wheel cutters put the cogs in cognition. Think it through, we can still put a spoke in their wheel.

I'm talking about an inevitable violent transition from one system of production to another, an overthrow of a system by the governed. No revolving, recycling or returning. I'm talking about spinning off and out and past my dreams. I'm talking about breaking the wheel, not the butterfly.

The wheels on the bus, in the wind turbines, in the casinos, the revolvers, the wheelie bin sound systems, our heads. All go round.

2007-04-04T12:24:00.000+12:00

Exercise 4: we had to write three beginnings to a piece trying different things. I wrote 6. The first 3 are trying to come up with a a beginning I thought I could actually use for a longer story/ novel, the last 3 are ones I wrote first that I will probably use to start parts of that story.

It's all very rough -- I couldn't be bothered fixing up what's here because I still have to write the story.

Now I'm going to see if I can catch the lady vols game somewhere -- final of the ncaa. I think Parker dunked in the last game.

1.
No-one in english class was stoked when their teacher assigned them into pairs for "group work". Aston was clearly just trying to make sure no-one enjoyed the assignment -- somehow she'd managed to avoid anyone being paired with a friend. As she read out the allocations, a mexican wave of disappointment and somewhat stifled groans played around the room.
Mary and Sam had hardly ever spoken, even though they'd known each other since intermediate. Hi-Bye friends. Aware of each other, but not really interested. By sixth form, they'd given up on any pretense of liking. Now they were expected to come up with a topic and presentation together.

2.
"These are your allocations," I read the list of pairs I have assigned the class to. It's never a popular start to the year, but it's the only way to get the class talking to each other, and it makes a big difference when they have to read scenes with each other, or share their writing. They have no care for each other -- the boys who think english is for girls, and the boys who are only at school for rugby and cricket, the drama kids, and the girls who want to be prefects. They sit in their cliques and roll their eyes at each other, and are sometimes outright cruel. I don't want to collude with that, but there's only so much I can do as their teacher.
Sam, for instance, is one of the sports heroes. He is as self-important and self-involved as you can imagine a teenager to be. He and his friends will mock anyone who willingly participates. I've paired him with Mary.

3.
It was a stinking hot day. The classroom was packed with hot teenagers. Cigarette stench, perfumes and deodorants sat in the room with the sweat and hormones of 30 near-adults, crammed into uniforms to make them look like they were still children. Resentment and boredom rounded out the atmosphere. Outside, it was summer.
At the front of the room, a woman faced the class. She was of indeterminate age, with fashionably cut hair, and unfashionable but tidy clothes. Pausing after each pair, she read a list of names in a bored voice, and with completely expressionless face. Her mouth twitched occasionally when she saw the reactions of the named, and both her feet tapped under her desk.
The room simmered with outrage. Friends were being divided for no apparent reason.

“Fuck it,” Mary looked out at the rivers running down the window. She could barely be heard over the roaring of the rain on the roof.
Sam crammed the last of Mary's sandwich in his mouth, and chewed grinning with beetroot stained mayonnaise oozing out the sides.
“Take the afternoon off – you can't go back to school in this, you'll get soaked.” Sam edged his chair closer to Mary's and wrapped a concerned arm around her shoulders. They looked together at the beet red stains his fingers left on her blouse.
“Uh, shit,” Sam said, and sprayed the other side of her blouse with red crumbs and saliva. He wiped at the marks ineffectually.
Sam and Mary laughed, and went to his room, and took off her blouse, and fumbled around for a few minutes, and found themselves having sex.

You know you shouldn't do it. Every time you think it through you run through the scene in your head and how you'll stop it, but when it comes time, you just do it again. And you knew that this would happen. At any time you could've stopped, you could have talked about contraception, you could've got the morning after pill. But you didn't.
Now what are you going to do.

Mary woke with the same cold weight in her stomach that had been growing all week. She got up, looked at the calendar, showered, dressed in her uniform, and faced her mother in the kitchen.
“Toast?”
“I'll eat it at the bus stop.”
“Juice?”
“I'll get a coffee on the way.”
“Is everything okay?”
What could she say? All she wanted to do was go back to bed, have her mother tuck her in, stroke her hair and tell her what she needed to do.
“I'm fine,” she said.
Leave me alone, is what her mother heard. Stay out of my business. Well fine.

2007-03-28T13:24:00.000+12:00

Exercise 3: 5 things (Birkenstock sandals, an uprooted oleander, author of self-help books, ice skating scandal, oil pipeline)

God was late. It had been a late start to the day – God had gotten into the habit of late nights, and started enjoying a daily lie in, instead of keeping it reserved for Sunday as per tradition.

Unfortunately this meant that things were starting to get a bit rushed and the odd chore forgotten. “Make a list,” Jesus had been saying. “It's easier to structure your day with a list – and you get to feel like you've achieved something when you can cross it all off.”

God sighed. Jesus could be a sanctimonious little prick. It seemed the more behind God was in the tasks at hand, the more annoying Jesus became; the more stressed God was feeling, the more energy went into showing Jesus up.

Sue's life wasn't turning out the way she'd hoped. In her early twenties, she had been a promising ice-skater. She had dreams of representing her country, but it all went wrong at a big tournament when her coach was caught on camera pissing in her rival's skates. For the next few months, Sue's name had been associated with cheating in sports and urinating in public. She quit skating, and the humiliation followed her around. Even after everyone else forgot, she would still remember. Eventually she ended up as a gardener for a rich american.

Yesterday, she had pulled up several small shrubs, and now had a day of chipping and mulching ahead of her. This was not how she had wanted to spend her life.

Jesus was having a good day. After centuries of being depicted as a sandal-wearing, long-haired and bearded white man, Jesus had succumbed to appearing that way all the time. And since hippies had made that style popular, he'd had access to more comfortable accessories. Birkenstocks and beautiful kaftans. God accused him of playing up to it. But people really seemed to pay attention to him when he looked like that. “In heaven as on earth,” he said.

He was addressing a crowd of heaven's newcomers. Someone had to greet them and explain how the afterlife works. He'd talk them through the ways of the different communities, the rules, etc. He liked to throw in some very enigmatic pearls of wisdom. He'd found that the more obscure he made an analogy, the more people nodded and were less likely to question it.

Today he had them eating out of his hand like lambs.

Until God showed up.

Jesus was making a particularly elegant hand-gesture. As everyone watched, a fat joint appeared between his fingers and started heckling him. No-one could miss it. He was testing out a complicated parable he'd been working on, comparing heaven to a small family-owned business complete with dog on the porch and cat by the fire. There was a fruit tree and garden out the back, and free customer parking out front. They'd started a mail order catalogue and had a good web-presence. The kids ran the customer service department, and they had a returns policy where you could exchange an item you didn't like for another of equal or lesser value. He was really enjoying this one. And then God appeared as a joint and claimed it didn't mean anything.

“Does anyone know what this guy is talking about?” god had called to the crowd. “What has free customer parking got to do with the kingdom of heaven?”

“Haven't you got anything better to do?” Jesus said to the joint.

People laughed. He looked ridiculous.

God's work was done.

Jesus did have a point though. God had plenty to do. The big thing was the environmental disaster that heaven would never hear the end of if the proposed arctic oil pipeline were built. But there were a million other tasks that needed to be performed. God's list of chores would be impossible to achieve before the day was out. It would take a miracle. God often resorted to miracles when desperate. Miracles, though, have unpredictable consequences, and God was especially pushed for time.

God intended to visit the senator fighting against the pipeline, and reveal to him some scandalous information about the sexual proclivities of the key people fighting for the pipeline. God had sent a lackey to check the place out first, and had decided to appear to the senator as a burning bush while he was taking his daily constitutional.

Of course you can't trust help, and God hadn't had time to check the details. It turned out that this senator was Sue's employer, and the bush God was planning to appear in was one of those dug up by her the previous day. At the moment God chose to appear, Sue was in the middle of feeding it into the chipper. The flames did not burn her, nor consume the bush.

God was preoccupied, chuckling about Jesus' humiliation, and imparted the information to Sue, without even noticing that she looked nothing like the middle-aged male senator, nor that the shrub was becoming increasingly truncated by the chipper.

If Sue had come across this information under less celestial circumstances, it is unlikely that she would have known what to do. Especially as she actually couldn't care less about the environment – she was much more concerned with paying her bills. Filled as she was with a dose of divine wisdom, an inevitable side-effect of such a visitation, she knew exactly what to do.

Sue fed the scandalous information to her employer over a long enough period that he couldn't help but fall for her. Meanwhile, she wrote down as much of the wisdom as she could hold onto. Shortly after she and the senator married, her first book was launched. A reporter recognised her name, and wrote a feature length profile on her “rollercoaster life” in a women's magazine. Oprah asked to interview her in a where-are-they-now type show, also featuring Tiffany, Vanilla Ice and Eddie the Eagle. People were charmed by her story of shame and redemption, and bought her books in droves.

2007-03-15T15:51:00.000+13:00

Exercise 2: write a story in dialogue

“Cody used to ride rodeo,” Wiley said, and dived into the lake.
“Really,” said Jan. She spread her towel out on the pier and lay down on it.
Cody nodded, “Yup”, and spat into his coke cup.
“I went to a rodeo once,” Kate said. “It was the first time I went on a ferris wheel, I think there were other rides as well.” She lowered herself into the water.
“Rodeo's not the circus,” Cody said. He leaned back on a post.
“Well what did you do then?” Jan asked.
“He rode bulls,” Wiley said. “He was real good too.”
Cody squirted brown saliva into his cup again. Jan rolled her eyes.
“You rode bulls?” Kate said. “That's insane.”
Jan looked Cody up and down, from his greasy baseball cap to his shiny metal-tipped boots. His stained University of Florida t-shirt was tucked hard into his jeans, loose on his skinny frame, held up by a leather belt with a huge silver buckle. Cody examined the contents of his cup.
“Whatever,” she said.
“Yep, he traveled all around. Competed in 9 states, from North Carolina to Arkansas. Even got offered a university scholarship.”
“Oh for god's sake. There's no such thing as a rodeo scholarship,” Jan said.
“Yes there is,” Wiley said, floating on his back. “And Cody would've gone to a good school, if he hadn't been trod on by that bull. Had to have his whole face rebuilt, and a metal plate for a eye socket.”
Everyone looked at Cody. He was concentrating on rolling a joint.
“If you aren't gonna swim, can you keep a look out for alligators,” Wiley said.
Kate stood up in the water.
“Sure,” said Cody, letting out a cloud of wet smoke.
“Alligators?” said Jan.
“Yep, all the freshwater round here's full of them. Cody comes out every night for a swim, and there's this one, every night, follows him out to the buoy and back.” Wiley indicated the buoy in the middle of the lake.
“You swim with an alligator? That's insane,” Kate said. She was looking hard at the nearest lake edges.
“Not with it. She leaves me alone, I leave her alone.”
“Oh right,” Jan said. “Where is it now?”
“Could be her there, could be a turtle.” He pointed to a tiny thing on the surface of the water ten or so metres away. Jan could hardly make it out at all.
“It's pretty small for an alligator.”
“Cody's got real good eyesight,” Wiley said. “He used to be a sharp-shooter in the military.”
“Really?” said Jan. “With his one eye.”
“Only takes one eye to sight a rifle,” Cody said.
“Cody was real good,” said Wiley. “He could take your head off from a mile away. They wanted to send him to Iraq, but he couldn't go on account of the metal plate.”
“Oh for God's sake,” Jan said.
Kate pulled herself up on the pier and was looking in the direction Cody had pointed.
“Don't you worry. Alligator's aren't crocodiles. They'll leave you alone,” Cody said.
“Unless you're unlucky,” added Wiley. “You remember Shaun? We were all swimming in the river, and he jumped in, and landed near on top of this alligator. She got such a fright, she turned round and bit his face off. Didn't kill him though – just swam off leaving him bleeding everywhere. Still, we had to go out and shoot her, case she did it again.”
“Jesus,” said Kate. “That's full on.”
“Once they've had human blood, you can't let them live.” Cody said. And spat.
Wiley shrieked and leapt up onto the pier clutching his foot. He laughed nervously. “Fucking fish bit my toe.”
There was another ripple in the water near the pier, the small turtle head rose up for a second, revealing a couple of feet of a long triangular head. It sunk down again, and moved off quickly through the black water.
“Fucking christ.” Jan was on her feet. “That was fucking huge.”
Jan and Kate stood watching the nearly imperceptible wake of the alligator.
“Don't you have them in your country?” Wiley asked. Him and Cody were laughing.
“We don't have anything. We don't even have snakes,” Kate said.
Cody raised his eyebrows. “No snakes?”
“You would've seen a lot since you came here though.”
“I've seen a few. Jan's been here two years though, and she hasn't seen any.”
Jan glared at Kate.
“You never seen a snake?” Cody stood up straight and stared at Jan. “That's the craziest story I ever heard.”

2007-03-12T13:17:00.000+13:00

Exercise 1: Confession of a writer. We all wrote a confession starting with like all ? children, I always wanted to be a ?. It was supposed to contain 2 truths and 2 lies.

Like all New Zealand children, I wanted to be a police officer when I grew up. I'm not claiming that for years and years it was my one burning desire, I just mean I'd been taught to respect them, and told they were good people who look after us. Of course that sounded like something to aspire to. Plus, I watched ChiPs, and who didn't want to be like John and Ponch.

There was a community constable who used to come to our school when I was little. She was all tall and flash and friendly. Sometimes she would bring a dog. Who didn't want a job with a dog.

One time I got lost in the shopping mall in Pakuranga. I was there with my mum and my nana. It's the first time I remember going there – it must have been the early 80s and I was about 6. There was a big totem pole thing in the middle of the mall back then, and I stopped to look at it. It was multi-coloured and huge, made out of some smooth concrete stuff that was designed to look like wood. I didn't have a clue what it was supposed to be or mean. I fantasised about climbing to the top and looking down over everyone. And then I realised I was by myself. All I could think to do was walk a circuit of the mall looking for Mum and Nana. My stomach was tight and queasy. I walked faster. I promised myself I'd see them the next time I passed the woolshop, and walked another circuit. They weren't there. I held my breath and believed I'd see them when I had to let it out. They weren't there either. I tried again. I was forcing myself not to cry, trying so hard not to make a scene. I swallowed down a sob, and vomited on the footpath. A woman came out of the coffee shop and growled me and asked where my mother was. I started crying and couldn't answer. A policeman arrived right then and said he'd take care of me, and gently asked me questions and talked to me until mum arrived. He was so nice. Of course I wanted to be just like him.

Later when I was 12, two policemen came to my house because a couple of my friends had been caught shoplifting. The policemen were convinced I had also been stealing. My father let them in and stayed in the room while they talked to me. They spent an hour or so trying to get me to admit to involvement in some sort of sophisticated shoplifting syndicate made up of an unspecified number of my 12 year old friends. They looked in my bedroom and pointed out things they said they knew I had stolen. Everything they pointed to was a gift from my mother. They left, saying they'd be back. They went to get more statements and evidence, but apparently were unsuccessful. When they returned they stated they wouldn't leave until I admitted I had been shoplifting. They stayed for another hour or two, repeating that they would leave me alone when I owned up, and that they knew I was a thief. They tried to get my father to leave the room to “give me space to tell the truth”. Eventually, and this is the only time I remember this happening in my life, my father sided with me against strangers. He told the police it was time for them to leave.

Whangarei in the 80s was pretty small, pretty rural, poorer and browner than most towns, far removed from any political or economic power. People in Whangarei don't suffer from inflated or unrealistic levels of entitlement. Whangarei was a town where the police could tell you to turn out your pockets, and you did. No need to concern yourself with citing your legal rights, none of us knew them, and I'm sure it wouldn't have made any difference if we had. Just as easily they could call a young maori kid nigger and give him a smack around the ears for having a smart mouth. Or visit the houses of young solo mothers during the day and demand sex.

Anyone who can live in a town like that and want to be a police officer is someone you don't ever want to be alone with.

He Hōaka

In solidarity

Symbols of change

The distractions

The bullshit

The real mahi

"Māori Party might walk"—if only they would

Can't afford justice

Resolution in solidarity

A few of my favourite things (or, what I read and loved in 2011)

Post election post

Election 2011: I don't get it

Happy Independence day

Community justice

Justice without the State

State criminal justice system

Different models of community justice

Customary justice systems

Restorative justice

Criticisms of Customary and Restorative Justice

Transformative justice

What does this mean for us?

The way forward

1. We need to start now, but we don’t need to start big.

2. We need to be talking about abuse.

3. We need to be organised, creative and strong in our opposition to the state system.

Summary

Notes

References

Book Launch for Ani Mikaere

racism=prejudice+power, or why we should support Margaret Mutu

Operation 8 charges dropped

Mana Party, tino rangatiratanga and identity politics

Tino rangatiratanga and identity politics

Oppression and the Mana party

Social justice and the danger of elites

Operation 8: Deep in the Forest

The liberal argument

The colonialism argument

Mā te whakaoratanga o te tikanga Māori ka whakakaha ake ō tātou whānau

He Kupu Whakataki

Te painga o te tikanga Māori

Te whakaora i te tikanga Māori

He Kupu Whakakapi

Not my destiny

Mana wahine

Tikanga Māori

Other sources of information

Case study: the place of women in pōwhiri

Conclusion

He poroporoāki

Kei Tua o te Pae—Kaupapa Māori research

Stopping a disaster before it happens

The rugby world cup waka pavilion

Hīkoi opposing the Marine and Coastal Areas bill

﻿The tapu of taonga and wāhine in a colonised land

Tapu

Te tapu o te wāhine

Te tapu o te taonga

Colonisation and taonga

Colonisation and women

Te Papa Taonga Māori Collection

Conclusion

The Māori Party and tino rangatiratanga

Problems

The Māori Party and tino rangatiratanga

The Māori Party and kaupapa Māori

Is there a role for a Māori party?

Conclusion

Māori Party politicians behave like politicians

Defining Māori

Introduction

Othering

Māori as an Oriental

Constitutional Issues

Racialising Māori

Gendering colonisation

Conclusion

Ani Mikaere – Māori Critic and Conscience in a Colonising Context: Law and Leadership as a Case Study

Sexuality and Tikanga Māori

The tapu of taonga and wāhine in a colonised land