Mātauranga Māori, tino rangatiratanga and the future of New Zealand science

On a completely different topic, last year my mate Debbie and I wrote an opinion piece on the future of New Zealand science (what we lack in knowledge of New Zealand science, we make up for in opinions). You can access it here: Mātauranga Māori, tino rangatiratanga and the future of New Zealand science.

Our tūpuna dreamed the future for all of us

This is the second draft of “reclaiming gender and sexuality”. You can see that it’s taken a different direction from that first draft. After writing the previous draft, the point I wanted to make started to become clear. I was able to take out lots of the stuff I really wanted to include, the quotes and work that inspired me, but that wasn’t contributing to my point. I’ll post the final version in a few weeks.

Draft 2

A few years ago I gave a talk on sexuality and whanau at a conference on tikanga (McBreen 2012). I argued that whenever Māori excluded people because of their sexuality, they were enacting the same cultural imperialism as colonisation—that their homophobia could not only be seen as analogous to our colonisers’ cultural imperialism, but that it was a result of it. I argued that the violence of homophobia, whether through anti-gay jokes, or insults or physical attacks, was traumatising whanaunga, including all children. I am increasingly uncomfortable with my argument. Not because I think it is incorrect, but because it was insufficient. I reduced my demands to appeal to people who I didn’t trust to respond to what I think is really important. I should have trusted them, and this is the argument I should have made. Decolonisation does not mean asking that Māori communities accept those of us whose sexualities or genders don’t conform, it requires eradicating heteropatriarchy from those communities. I don’t want people to put aside their homophobia, I want them to rethink all they know about what it means to be a man or woman living on this land. I don’t want them to do it to protect their kids, I want us to do it because it will protect us all, because our survival as Māori depends on it, because it is the path to tino rangatiratanga.

He tōtara wāhi rua he kai nā te toki

Many indigenous writers have commented that enforcing patriarchy and heteronormativity is a key tactic of colonisation, that it is not simply a by-product. As Cherokee activist Andrea Smith has written, introducing the hierarchy of patriarchy and binary gender prepares us for being ruled over by colonisers (and works to the goal of destroying us as people) (Smith 2005). Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, an activist of Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg ancestry, explains that the colonisers’ attacks on gender and sexuality destroy our relationships with each other, weakening our resistance to colonisation. If whakapapa is a foundational Māori philosophy, then the many ways that heteropatriarchy attacks our understanding of whakapapa means that it has the potential to destroy what it means to be Māori (Mikaere 2000).

I want to start with some definitions. ‘Gender’, ‘sexuality’ and heteropatriarchy are colonial ideas, and cannot easily be translated into te Reo—they do not have comparable Māori terms (eg, Pihama). ‘Gender’ and ‘sexuality’ are political terms, whose meanings are an ongoing source of argument. To oversimplify, gender is often used to mean the socially understood categories of men and women (contrasted against sex, the biologically defined categories of male and female). Sexuality in its most restricted understanding means sexual preference, and may include desire. But as Leonie Pihama has said, it also has a much broader meaning, encompassing how we live, relate to each other, and understand ourselves. These ideas are central to heteropatriarchy.

Heteropatriarchy is a useful concept (which I am treating as synonymous with heteronormative). It describes a culture with a specific type of male dominance, a culture that privileges masculinity and heterosexuality within an understanding of gender as a male/female dichotomy. In short, it looks like Western culture.

Heteropatriarchy is all the things we’ve been told are normal. It is all the implications from believing that men are better than and opposite to women—the expectation that you can know who someone is and what they are capable of based on the shape of their genitals. It is contempt for women, and therefore for anyone who behaves like a woman. It requires strict policing of behaviour to keep these boundaries distinct. I want to unpack this further, by giving everyday examples of the ways we teach and enforce heteropatriarchy.

Heteropatriarchy is expecting girls to wear pink and play quietly, while expecting boys to wear blue and love rough-and-tumble play. It is shaming children who can’t conform to masculine and feminine stereotypes. It is encouraging boys to be sexually aggressive, while punishing girls for being sexual at all. It’s allowing boys to learn about sex from pornography that humiliates women, and then blaming them for treating girls as sexual objects rather than equals. It’s shaming culturally feminine qualities and honouring very specific masculine-identified qualities, so competition, singlemindedness and rationality are valued, while co-operation, emotions and care are not. It is judging women who choose not to have children, while financially punishing women who do have children. It is expecting men not to care for their children. It is expecting women to look after men, to do all the emotional work in relationships, and blaming them if their partner is violent or controlling. It is expecting men to be emotionally pathetic, unable to cope with jealousy, anger or loss in healthy ways, unable to behave with integrity with sexual partners. It’s blaming women when they are attacked by their partners or by strangers. It’s making excuses for violent men and accepting that women should be afraid. It’s paying more for ‘men’s work’, and not valuing ‘domestic’ or caring work. It’s women filling the kitchens and committees at marae, while men are recognised as our leaders. It’s the high-powered hui where men are the only invited speakers, and the other hui where people complain if there are ‘too many’ women speakers. It’s setting men and women against each other. It’s treating people who can’t work within this structure as the problem.

Heteropatriarchy is a colonial weapon that we are inviting into our own homes.

Hoki atu ki tōu maunga kia purea ai i ngā hau o Tāwhirimātea

Despite efforts to erase it, researchers of Māori sexuality have provided historical evidence for a range of sexualities and gender expressions (eg, Aspin & Hutchings 2006, Te Awekotuku 2005). Of course, there are a range of sexual and gender expressions in colonial culture also, in spite of heteropatriarchy. What is more interesting to me is that when we look at our creation traditions, there is also evidence of the way our tūpuna thought about gender and sexuality, and it is very different to heteropatriarchy.

A people’s creation traditions are important. They hold the imaginings of tūpuna, the explanations that made sense to them for the ongoing process of creation, and their dreams for how their uri might live into the future. They are an enduring haven to which we can return.

We still need to be cautious and critical. Much of our oral history has been infiltrated by colonial thinking. There is a common narrative of creation that is widely known. I heard versions of it on children’s radio shows when I was a child, I read versions of it in children’s books, I was taught a version of it in Te Ātaarangi, and I hear or read people referring to it more often than to the many iwi narratives. It is a Pākehā narrative, cobbled together from bits and pieces of many stories with inconsistent details removed and laid out into a linear story, intelligible to the writers. You know it: it starts with Te Kore, Te Pō and Rangi and Papa. Rangi saw Papa’s naked body below him, he desired her and took her; they had lots of male children who became cramped and bored; Tāne separated the parents; the brothers fought; the brothers search for the female element, Tāne makes her out of earth, breathes life into her, then has sex with her and she gives birth to the first woman; Tāne takes her as his wife, they have children, she discovers Tāne is her father and flees in shame to the underworld. Etc.

This narrative says a lot about gender and sexuality. It tells us that there are males and females, and that they are different. Males make the decisions that create our world, they interact with each other, they compete for dominance, they shape their environment—they are always doing something. Females (passively) bear the consequences of those actions—they are taken, they are impregnated, they are shamed, they are always disappearing (after giving birth to all her sons, Papatūānuku becomes the passive earth from which Tāne makes Hineahuone; after giving birth, Hineahuone is never heard of again; Hinetitama leaves the world of light). This is heteropatriarchy. It is not the way my people talk about creation.

In Kāi Tahu traditions (eg, Tau 2003), Rakinui has several partners, and Papatūānuku is with Takaroa before Papa and Rakinui get together. Takaroa goes away, Raki and Papa get together, Takaroa comes back, fights with Raki, injures him, and goes away again.

I like this tradition, because it so reflects the world of our tūpuna—the going away and coming back of Takaroa, the red of Rakinui’s blood at sunrise or sunset. You can see why they recognised Papatūānuku as having a relationship with both Rakinui and Takaroa, because that’s how the whenua sits, surrounded by sea and sky. When we look to the horizon, we can see that Raki and Takaroa are also intimately entwined. What is their relationship? Are they forever embracing in their fight? It looks more like spooning. What is going on?

Tainui have another explanation of creation. Pei Te Hurinui Jones (2010) talks about how Ranginui and Papatūānuku are both bi-sexual or a-sexual (p241), and each gives birth to several children before getting together. Tāne-mahuta has sex with a male atua, Kahukura, who gives birth (referred to as a bi-sexual conception, p244). I am not from Tainui, so I will not speculate on the meaning of their traditions, but it is easy to see that this says something very different from the narrative constructed by Pākehā men.

An intriguing tradition that was recorded by a Pākehā man tells of Māui and Rohe (Tregear 1891; unfortunately, I can’t find a record of whose tradition this is). Māui is ugly and Rohe is so beautiful that Māui is jealous of her. He asks to swap faces with her, but she refuses. One night when she is asleep, he swaps faces. When she wakes she leaves to live in the underworld.

Helen Harte directed me to this tradition because it raises such interesting questions. Māui wanted to look like a woman, Rohe did not want to look like a man. Rohe had the mana to refuse Māui, and now has an important role in looking after us after death. Māui continued to live with a woman’s face. What was this story about before it was recorded by Pākehā?

What do these three examples say about gender and sexuality? They show that monogamy is not privileged. They show that males and masculinity are not especially privileged. They show that heterosexuality isn’t necessarily privileged. The more attention we give them and question what they mean, the more they reveal that neither gender nor sexuality are fixed, and that our tūpuna had a complex understanding of gender and sexuality. This isn’t surprising, because our tūpuna were great observers of their environment, and nature contains endless gender and sexual variety.

There is evidence of flexibility, an absence of hierarchy, and combined with lack of categories in te Reo that align with Western categories, that gives a strong message that gender and sexuality were not as important to our tūpuna. Heteropatriarchy is completely foreign. This presents a challenge to all of us—how do we eradicate heteropatriarchy? How do we make these categories less important again? How much needs to change so that we no longer need labels like gay, bisexual, or even takatāpui to organise ourselves under? What must change so that we can say with honesty that, where there are specific roles for tāne and wāhine, they are equally important and respected? How do we create the conditions for our liberation? We must undo all the ways that domination is controlling us.

After 200 years of colonisation, the dreams of our tūpuna are waiting to be recovered. We just need to be bold enough to see all that isn’t being said, and ask the hard questions.

Mā pango mā whero ka oti ai te mahi

If whakapapa is the foundation of tikanga, heteropatriarchy makes no sense. Ani Mikaere (2011) has explored what it means to understand the world through whakapapa, her conclusions include lack of hierarchy, the importance of relationships, and inclusiveness. Heteropatriarchy is a corruption of our tikanga so that mana wahine becomes less than mana tāne, and mana tāne is itself defined as a limited heterosexual masculinity. It reshapes all our relationships with our living whanaunga, as well as with our tūpuna and atua. It is for these reasons that Leonie Pihama (1998, p184) suggests The imposition of the western nuclear family is perhaps one of the key acts that undermined Māori societal structures.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson challenges us to take on gender violence as a core resurgence project, a core decolonization project, a core of any Indigenous mobilization. By focusing on the violence of heteropatriarchy, we can see all that must change for us to realise tino rangatiratanga. There is no quick fix that will end gender violence, because it is at the core of colonisation. It is a virus bred in the colonisers that invades our tikanga, replicating itself wherever we are not actively resisting, until hierarchy seems a natural part of all that we do. By focusing on heteropatriarchy, we can see that Christianity, the nuclear family and projects focused only on building mana tāne will not lead to tino rangatiratanga.

By making hierarchy seem natural, heteropatriarchy reframes our understanding of the world as hierarchy—not only does tāne become more than wahine, but tuakana becomes more than teina, tūpuna becomes more than uri, rangatira becomes more than people. The point is to break our relationships to each other and land, so we can be dominated. The pathway is to teach us to dominate each other, the land, and all our environment, to cultivate relationships of domination. Hierarchy is incompatible with whakapapa—it focuses on difference in order to separate and dominate, whereas whakapapa focuses on relationships and linking together. Domination is violence, but when hierarchy has become natural to us, the violence is harder to see. Rejecting hierarchy is not only essential to decolonisation, it is a foundation on which decolonisation will be built, and will be a measure of our progress. As Andrea Smith (2006, p72) has said, Any liberation struggle that does not challenge heteronormativity cannot substantially challenge colonialism or white supremacy. Rather, as Cathy Cohen contends, such struggles will maintain colonialism based on a politics of secondary marginalization where the most elite class of these groups will further their aspirations on the backs of those most marginalized within the community.

Too often, decolonisation projects mirror or incorporate colonial systems of oppression. If the pathway to tino rangatiratanga looks the same as that of colonisation, then it will probably lead to the same place. Let’s not choose that path. Capitalism and the nation-state both rely on domination. It is only because we have become naturalised to hierarchy that we can imagine a decolonised future within the structures of capitalism or the nation-state. A decolonisation project with whakapapa at its foundation will challenge all systems of domination. The editors of Queer Indigenous Studies argue that those most marginalised by heteropatriarchy have a special role in this work by disrupting colonially imposed and internalized systems of gender and sexuality, Indigenous queer and Two-spirit critiques can move decolonizing movements outside dominant logics and narratives of 'nation' (Driskill, Finley, Gilley & Morgensen 2011, p17). Tino rangatiratanga will involve remembering, re-imagining and re-inventing structures that reflect the values we want for our future.


It is always tempting in arguing for decolonisation to start by exposing the violence of colonisation. Listing the effects of colonisation, on women, on men, on our children, on our relationships with each other, on those not considered normal, shows one reason why decolonisation is important and urgent—our colonial reality is literally killing us. There is another reason, which is also important—this colonial reality is killing the dreams our tūpuna made for us and the lands to which we belong. It is killing our culture. Our tūpuna had generations to learn how to live in these lands, they developed ethics for relationships with each other and their environment that sustained them. They wove these ethics and all they learnt into stories of creation. This was their method of passing on all that they knew to be true, all that they dreamed and aspired to. These were always stories about whakapapa, always stories that could only be understood by focusing on the relationships. For our survival as Māori, we must return to these stories. We must face their dreams, however challenging they now seem. For it to be meaningful, we must define decolonisation on their terms, and with whakapapa as our guide.

References
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)
Driskill, Qwo-Li, Chris Finley, Brian Joseph Gilley, Scott Lauria Morgensen 2011 ‘Introduction’ Queer Indigenous Studies: Critical Interventions in Theory, Politics, and Literature Edited by Qwo-Li Driskill, Chris Finley, Brian Joseph Gilley & Scott Lauria Morgensen (University of Arizona Press, Tuscon, AZ, US)
Harte, Helen Interview with the author 21 February, 2014
Jones, Pei Te Hurinui 2010 King Pōtatau: An Account of the Life of Pōtatau Te Wherowhero the First Māori King (Huia Publishers and the Polynesian Society, Wellington and Auckland)
McBreen, Kim ‘It’s about whānau—oppression, sexuality and mana’ Kei Tua o Te Pae Hui Proceedings. Te Wānanga o Raukawa, Ōtaki, 4-5 September 2012: 55-64
Mikaere, Ani 2011 Colonising Myths—Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro (Huia Publishers, Wellington and Te Tākupu, Ōtaki)
Mikaere, Ani 2011 ‘Patriarchy as the ultimate divide and rule tactic: The assault on tikanga Māori by Pākehā law’ Mai i Te Ata Hāpara conference, Te Wānanga o Raukawa, Ōtaki, 11-13 August 2000
Pihama, Leonie http://www.rangahau.co.nz/exemplar/143/#, accessed 17 April, 2014
Pihama, Leonie 'Reconstructing meanings of family: lesbian/gay whānau and families in Aotearoa' The Family in Aotearoa New Zealand Edited by Vivienne Adair (Longman, Auckland 1998)
Simpson, Leanne Betasamosake http://nationsrising.org/not-murdered-and-not-missing/, accessed 6 March, 2014
Smith, Andrea 2005 Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide (South End Press, Cambridge, MA, US)
Smith, A 2006 ‘Heteropatriarchy and the three pillars of white supremacy: rethinking women of color organizing’ Color of Violence: The Incite! Anthology Edited by Incite! Women of Color Against Violence (South End Press, Cambridge MA, US)
Tau, Rawiri Te Maire 2003 Ngā Pikitūroa o Ngai Tahu: The Oral Traditions of Ngāi Tahu (University of Otago Press, Dunedin)
Te Awekotuku, Ngāhuia 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)
Tregear, Edward 1891 Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary (Lyon and Blair, Wellington)

Things I wish I'd known 6 years ago—talk from Never forget: October 15th solidarity tour (Wellington)

These are my notes from a talk I gave at the Wellington leg of the Never Forget: October 15th Solidarity Tour on Oct 19th.

I want to start by remembering the violence of the state on and around October 15th, 2007. I know many whānau were hurt and are still carrying that pain. That’s not the focus of my talk, but it is what brings me here. I need to thank the organisers of this event. I think it’s a great idea, and I’m really stoked to be invited to contribute today. It’s really good to have an opportunity to reflect on all of the bullshit that has happened since that day in 2007, when so many people were fucked with, and so many people were hurt.

I also want to acknowledge the people who have agreed to be part of today—there’s some amazing speakers after me, and I’m looking forward to hearing them. Because I’m first up, I figure I can be a bit more personal and reflective than later speakers. So I want to start by reflecting on the immediate aftermath of Operation8 on the political scene in Wellington that I was involved in. I want to talk about things I wish I had known six or so years ago, and how that might have changed how I behaved. Then I want to talk about tino rangatiratanga, and finally about my understanding of solidarity now.

Six years ago, I wish I had been clear on the boundaries between being a friend, and the political work of solidarity. There is a difference between loving and caring for my friends, and being in solidarity with them. Not being clear on those boundaries between friendship and politics made a messy and painful time more stressful than it needed to be. And more importantly, it meant that I wasn’t as good a friend or as good an activist as I could have been. To support my friends, I thought I had to defend them as having done nothing illegal. I was terrified that anything I said could be used against them, because of my closeness to them, so what I said in their support was completely apolitical. If I couldn’t say anything politically useful, just concentrating on being a friend would have been a more effective use of my energy. And not having the inevitable fights that working together under stress brings would have allowed me to be a better friend.

I wish I had been clearer about the connections between Operation 8 and my political beliefs. Not making those connections clear contributed to not knowing how to respond politically.

I wish I had made more time to talk with people about all the different questions and feelings we had, and maybe continue to have.

I wish I had taken more time to talk with people about our politics and what had happened.

All of the silence around what happened, for fear of making things worse, meant that it was really hard to untangle all this stuff. It fed the stress and frustration and made it harder for me to work with people, and to do anything that felt effective. I needed to wānanga, to work stuff out with people who shared some of my values and beliefs. Instead it felt like we were working as a bunch of individuals together, making statements that many of us probably didn’t understand, or had quite different understandings of, or actually didn’t agree with.

I need to know where my values differ from those of the people I am working with, so we aren’t just guessing and censoring ourselves. For example, the group in Wellington that I was involved with that was doing political response to Operation 8 included people from a mix of political backgrounds, but we didn’t talk about our politics, because it felt like there wasn’t time. But it felt important to organise, and try to get more people on board. Instead of taking time to find out where we all agreed, or educating ourselves together so we could make stronger statements, we watered down our politics to make it more palatable to more people. So a lot of the statements we made as a group ended up being really liberal and not consistent with my beliefs—and possibly not consistent with the beliefs of most of the people in the group. It was a wasted opportunity for doing something real.

I wish I had been more self aware and more humble. Our voices weren’t the most important or the most informed. Our skills and contacts could have been put to different uses. There were other people who could have used the attention better than us, and I wish I had put my energy into supporting that to happen.

It wasn’t until years later that I realised we were trying to make lots of different arguments or stories about what Operation 8 meant all at the same time. We needed to untangle those arguments, which would have taken time. Because the strand that was being lost in the confusion, is the one that is the most important, most challenging and most compelling argument—that Operation 8 was an act of colonisation. To make that argument, we need to make colonisation and tino rangatiratanga front and centre. Instead, it was getting overwhelmed by arguments that seemed easier to sell. I think it’s really important to think about the stories we put more energy into telling and why they are easier—what are they challenging, or more importantly, what aren’t they challenging?

I reckon there were 4 main arguments that we were using—which I’ve written about before. I think it’s important to untangle them and think about these separately whenever we are potentially talking about colonisation, because otherwise things seems to fall to a liberal human rights argument. So I’ll briefly talk about each of them here.

There’s the keystone cops argument—Operation 8 didn’t really mean anything, police are just fucking idiots. This argument is tempting, because, for one, it’s usually true that police act like idiots, and it also feels good to name that and mock them when they’ve been violent arseholes. What this argument neglects is that police are acting for the Crown, and it’s no accident that their ineptness is only ever violent when it suits the Crown. Those patterns aren’t hard to see.

There’s the liberal argument, that the state is over-reaching its legitimate power—it’s using the war on terror to expand its power and encroach on our civil liberties, police and anti-terror units need to justify their existence, etc. Again, this is compelling, because it’s true, and it’s easy to sell. But what if I don’t believe the state has any legitimate power? This argument doesn’t challenge the state at all, it doesn’t challenge the status quo.

There’s the anarchist argument, which does challenge the status quo—it starts from a recognition that the state is inherently abusive, it is all about controlling us, and it will use any tool it needs to keep us in line, whether creating fear through propaganda or through physical violence, or whatever. And it will demonise anyone who questions its legitimacy. This argument tends to ignore the importance of culture and history. It tends to overlook that some peoples have more legitimate claims to power than others. It doesn’t challenge us to think about where we are and how we got here.

The final argument, the one that I think got most lost, is the colonialism argument. That, as Moana Jackson has said, whenever indigenous peoples question their dispossession, they are defined as a threat and met with violence. It’s not that we weren’t mentioning colonisation, it’s that we weren’t saying anything beyond mentioning it.

When you look at what happened with Operation 8, when you look at where it happened, at which communities were targeted in which ways, and how liberal politicians positioned themselves—it’s really clear that racism, and fear of tangata whenua rising up, were absolutely central. For example, Helen Clark’s media statement about activists training to use napalm is all about that fear. Operation 8 was a colonial act. To respond to that, it’s really important that we know where we stand on colonisation, and legitimate responses to it, whether by tangata whenua or manuhiri.

On that note, I want to explain where I’ve got to with thinking about colonisation and tino rangatiratanga, or mana. The rest of my talk has nothing to do with Operation 8, but is more general.

Lots of really on to it people have made some simple statements about tino rangatiratanga or justice that speak to me. Patricia Monture-Angus is a Mohican woman, and she talks about justice as being the ability to live as a responsible person in her territory, as a Mohican woman. That’s really similar to Whatarangi Winiata’s definition, which is being able to survive as Māori. These are statements about the ability for tangata whenua to live according to their laws on their lands.

And this leads to my favourite statement about tino rangatiratanga, Ani Mikaere puts it simply that tikanga is the first law here and it’s the only legitimate law here. That’s because law comes from whakapapa—we can’t remain Māori and cede the responsibilities of our whakapapa.

If you can accept that, then questions of solidarity become simple too. I support tangata whenua making decisions that are right for them. It is their decision what they do in their rohe. That’s tikanga. Likewise I have no problem with tangata whenua defending their people, or whenua, or moana from the violence of colonisation, which comes in many forms.

The most inspiring talk I’ve heard in years was Dayle Takitimu talking about Te Whānau-ā-Apanui’s defense of their rohe from deep sea oil drilling. It’s not hard to support that. But the way these actions are portrayed in the media sometimes makes it hard to understand what’s going on. I don’t know if you all have been following the Mi’kmaq defence of their territory from gas exploration which was all over indigenous media yesterday—I was really distracted by it (background information here). The Reuters headline was “Police arrest 40 as Canada shale gas protest turns violent” and their article starts by talking about protestors setting police cars on fire, and throwing molotovs at police. The story could have been about indigenous people defending their whenua from exploitation, and the Canadian state’s violence against them. I didn’t look it up, but I imagine Canadian media were even more slanted. We know the media generally focus on the ‘violence of protestors’ and hardly ever talk about the real issues, which in this case, is the violence of colonisation and the ability of indigenous people to make decisions about their land.

The state has done a great job of making sure most people don’t understand colonisation. Our education system is pretty shocking when it comes to our colonial history and critical analysis. And our media don’t fill that gap. This means that some of the most important solidarity work that needs to be done is education and changing the conversation. The more people, from more diverse backgrounds that bring colonisation into the conversation, the harder it is to ignore.

So I want to finish by saying a few words about solidarity.

My understanding of solidarity now requires that I know myself—I need to be clear of my beliefs. Because solidarity is about interdependence, it’s about connections and relationships. It’s not charity—it’s about my relationship with you, and it’s about the relationship between my struggles and yours. So that also means I don’t have to completely agree with you and all your choices to be in solidarity with you. If I believe in your liberty, your self-determination, then by definition, I don’t get to determine what that means, or how you get there. We all need to understand that solidarity with any indigenous people requires accepting the legitimacy of those people’s decisions. And solidarity certainly doesn’t mean I have to claim to be you—we are not all Zapatistas or Ngāi Tūhoe. My struggles are not the same as yours. But they are connected.

My solidarity may mean simply making those connections clear, whatever they are—it might be western cultural imperialism, or colonisation, or capitalism. Understanding how your cause contributes to my cause. It may mean using whatever privilege I have, to open a space for you to talk about your oppression. By making those connections, we come to know the systems of oppression better, we expose them to more people, and eventually, we win together.

On that note, I’ll finish, thanks again for the opportunity to speak.

Two publications launched at Kei Tua o te Pae

Two Te Wānanga o Raukawa publications will be launched next week at Kei Tua o te Pae.
5:45 pm Tuesday 4th September
Te Wānanga o Raukawa

Te Wānanga o Raukawa: Restoring mātauranga to restore ecosystems

(produced by Te Whare Whakatupu Mātauranga, published by Te Tākupu and written by Āneta Hinemihi Rāwiri)

This report explores Te Wānanga o Raukawa’s experience of a collaborative project with Ecological Economics Research NZ, Landcare Research and Te Rūnanga o Raukawa.

Despite a commitment to the rhetoric of partnership, the project generated predominantly tikanga Pākehā research outputs focused on biophysical restoration. The lead researchers generally approached ecosystems restoration as an unproblematic exercise of ‘adding-on’ mātauranga to Pākehā economics- and science-based research activity. The report provides a detailed critique of this approach, and argues for iwi and hapū mātauranga to be recognised as vital to ecosystem health.

Indigenous languages and cultures need to be respected as fundamental to ecosystems health—to be carefully preserved and maintained alongside their embedded biophysical context. To achieve this, ecosystems restoration theory and practice need to shift away from ‘participatory’ approaches, where Māori participate in Pākehā-defined processes and frameworks, and move instead towards pluralistic processes.

This approach embraces a broader outcome of preserving bio-linguistic diversity. The focus shifts to restoring ecological and cultural integrity and stability, recognising that where there is a loss of biodiversity and community, mātauranga disappears, and that the decline of iwi and hapū mātauranga is intrinsic to ecosystem decline. The two are closely interrelated; the loss of one critically affects the other. This approach is consistent with the goal of Te Wānanga o Raukawa, to contribute to the survival of Māori as a people, by restoring and revitalising te reo me ōna mātauranga.

Ahunga Tikanga

(published by Te Tākupu)

This is the inaugural journal of the Ahunga Tikanga programme at Te Wānanga o Raukawa. The journal contains articles by Moana Jackson, Glen P Te Awaawa Firmin, Elizabeth Cook, Ngāhuia Murphy, Matiu Dickson, Debbie Broughton, Kim McBreen and Ani Mikaere. The articles are diverse in subject-matter, ranging from the story of one man’s close relationship with the Whanganui river to an investigation into the way that we perceive and portray our relationships with atua; from the inspiring personal account of attending a mau rākau wānanga for women to a detailed analysis of the link between Māui and menstruation; from a discussion of the history recounted in a waiata tawhito of Ngāti Hangarau to an examination of the Waitangi Tribunal report Ko Aotearoa Tēnei (Wai 262); from an exploration of a tikanga-based approach to sexual diversity to an explanation of the theory underpinning Ahunga Tikanga studies at Te Wānanga o Raukawa. All of the writers have a close association with the Ahunga Tikanga programme, serving as past and present kaiāwhina or staff members.

Currently offering qualifications from the Heke (undergraduate diploma) to the Tāhuhu (masters degree), Ahunga Tikanga studies have been taught at the Wānanga for nearly twenty five years. The programme is founded on the incontrovertibility of tikanga as the first and only legitimate law of Aotearoa, and encourages students to explore the practice of tikanga, as well as the philosophical foundation that underpins it. The content of Ahunga Tikanga courses reflects the conviction that the reclamation, maintenance and thoughtful development of tikanga are both achievable and crucial to our future survival.

Kei Tua o te Pae hui update

More information about the hui has gone up on their website, including video of a couple of the organisers talking about the hui, a programme, and information about all of the speakers. Registrations close this Friday (24 August), so spread the word if you know anyone who might be interested in exploring the challenges of kaupapa Māori in te ao hurihuri . Also, there’s a number of student places at a reduced price of $250 (includes all food and accommodation at Te Wānanga o Raukawa).

The programme includes:

• Whatarangi Winiata—Building Māori futures on kaupapa tuku iho
• Ngāhuia Murphy—Te Awa Atua: The river of life: menstruation in the precolonial Māori world
• Mereana Pitman—Violence and the distortion of tikanga
• Leonie Pihama—Te Ao Hurihuri
• Kim McBreen—It’s about whānau: oppression, sexuality and mana
• Meihana Durie—He Kawa Oranga: Enhancing Māori achievement in the 21st century through the application of tikanga and kawa
• Moana Jackson—hui reflections
• Panel discussions:
  • Hemi Toia, Ani Mikaere, and Jessica Hutchings on Changing worlds, changing tikanga
  • Naomi Simmonds, Caleb Royal, and Mera Penehira on Tikanga as liberation

There's also workshop time, so we can all talk with each other. I'm really excited by the conversations that will happen.

Muddying the waters

I haven’t written anything much about the Māori Council’s Waitangi Tribunal hearing on water rights, because I haven’t had the time to follow the argument, and because I expect the arguments are very similar to many other inquiries. For example, the radio spectrum claims (summary here, and which I might write more about shortly), or the Ngāti Apa case that led to the foreshore and seabed debacle (see Myths of the foreshore and seabed for a history to the Marine and Coastal Areas Act).

In short, most of the land and resource claims are pretty similar. Prior to European arrival, tangata whenua had mana for their rohe and everything within it. If tangata whenua have not given that mana to someone else, then they must retain responsibility (mana/ rangatiratanga). It doesn’t matter how many times the Crown says “but you can’t own [whatever they are currently trying to take control of]”. It doesn’t matter how much the Crown wants to take control or has always assumed that it has control of something, be it the coastline, radio spectrum, fresh water or anything else. If tangata whenua haven’t given it away, then responsibility must remain with them. Really simple stuff.

So why does it always seem so complicated?—Because it is in the interests of the Crown to make it complicated. It takes a really complicated argument to make anything resembling a case for Crown sovereignty (Moana Jackson calls these arguments legal magic), whereas tangata whenua arguments are straightforward. —Because many tau iwi want to believe that New Zealand has an honourable history and their culture is legitimately dominant, so they are invested in ignoring all the simple truths that tell a different story. Again, they must rely on magic to believe in Crown sovereignty.

Time after time, politicians show they care less about justice than they do about getting elected. Popular opinion is more important than justice, so it doesn’t matter how simple or straightforward the issues are, what the tribunal recommends, nor what the courts decide. It doesn’t matter how much money, time, energy, or lives tangata whenua put into their cases. It doesn’t matter what is fair or true. If it’s an important issue for the Crown, then the Crown will win—they own the game and they make up the rules to suit them.

As Key has said, and many instances show, Tribunal recommendations are not binding, so the Crown can ignore those it doesn’t like (eg, the Radio Spectrum claim). The Crown loses still more moral high ground, but it’s already buried under so much bullshit, what does a few more metres matter?. And if it loses in the courts, it can simply make up a new law (eg, the Ngāti Apa seabed and foreshore case). This is one reason why I hate this process—our people die fighting for justice in a system that is set up to fail them (eg, the WAI 262 claim).

But back to the freshwater case. Here’s some links in lieu of specific analysis:

• Audrey Young's summary of the freshwater claim (from Feb, 2012)
• Tapu Misa's column on ideas of property ownership and the claim: Water claim really about Maori's role as caretakers
• PDF of the interim recommendation by the Waitangi Tribunal that the Crown hold off any share float until the Tribunal reports on stage 1 of the inquiry
• Donna Hall’s summary of the interim recommendation
• Carwyn Jones’s summary: Tribunal requests crown to wait for water report
• Bryce Edwards explaining which method Key will likely use to ignore the Tribunal: Water claim – three possible paths for National

Enjoy. Or not.

Why is the hīkoi important?

The Aotearoa is not for Sale hīkoi attracted around 8 000 participants in Auckland on Saturday, and continues to attract support as it passes through other towns. There are many different reasons for joining the hīkoi—to oppose asset sales, to support workers rights, to oppose dangerous drilling and mining practices, to oppose foreign ownership of land, to support tino rangatiratanga. If the conversations on my facebook page are representative of wider opinion, there should be about 3 million people joining the hīkoi by the time it gets to Wellington (whereas if the mainstream media reflects reality, then the hīkoi started and finished in Auckland last weekend). There’s also been a few criticisms of the hīkoi—that it’s not explicitly challenging capitalism, that the organisers are using dog-whistle language for nationalism and racism, that the involvement of a range of political parties makes the messages of the hīkoi so weak as to be meaningless. I want to talk about why I am supporting the hīkoi.

To some, capitalism is at the heart of all the issues of the hīkoi (for example, anti-capitalism must feature at hikoi against asset sales). To me, colonialism is the fundamental issue, and capitalism is just a part of that. I will be on the hīkoi to support tino rangatiratanga.

Tangata whenua have a whakapapa relationship with all elements of the environment—land, air, water, plants, animals, etc.

“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.” (Nin Tomas 1994 “Implementing Kaitiakitanga under the RMA” New Zealand Environmental Law Reporter 39, p 40)

This recognises people as part of our environment, interdependent with our environment, with the same sort of responsibilities that we have to any of our whānau. Just as whakapapa is unseverable, so too are the responsibilities of whakapapa. Whoever the Crown recognises as the legal owners of land, minerals, water or fisheries, tangata whenua retain the responsibilities of whakapapa (I discuss this in more detail in an earlier post, Te Wao-Nui-a-Tāne, Wai 262 and the Mataatua Declaration). To me, tino rangatiratanga means the ability to assume those responsibilities. Protecting the environment from dangerous practices, such as deep-sea oil drilling or allowing nutrient rich run-off into streams, is a whakapapa responsibility—kaitiakitanga. The Crown sees the ability to make decisions about the environment as a right of its sovereignty.

The Crown has assumed sovereignty and tried to ignore or diminish the rangatiratanga of tangata whenua. I don’t want to spend much time writing about how tangata whenua have been pushed off land, because it is well documented. Taking my iwi (Ngāi Tahu) as an example, where there were ‘sales’, the Crown purchasers behaved dishonestly, promising things they didn’t intend to deliver, and changing deeds after they were signed; the Crown did not attempt to honour its side of many agreements, but expected tangata whenua to honour theirs; some agreements were made under threat; the Crown and tangata whenua always had different understandings and expectations of the agreements (see Harry Evison 1997 The Long Dispute for more enraging detail). Other land was taken for “public works”. Dismissing tikanga Māori, and in breach of its own laws, the Crown ignored all this. It kept some land to itself and sold the most valuable to early colonists (the massive profit was used to build up its government and militia). The Crown has acted as if it behaved morally and legally; this can only be true if Māori are considered irrelevant (although the 1893 Native Land (Validation of Titles) Act, commonly known as the Validation of Invalid Land Sales Act, does suggest that the Crown eventually felt it was important to be seen as subject to its own laws, and so changed them).

Despite all this, in struggling to enact our rangatiratanga, I believe we are in a stronger position fighting against the Crown, than fighting against foreign investors and corporations protected by the Crown and international laws. Māori fought to have Section 9 added to the State Owned Enterprises Act 1986 because it was recognised that the Crown is an easier target than private owners. Part of this is because of the Treaty of Waitangi Act 1975 (S6 (4A)), which ring-fenced all privately owned land from Waitangi Tribunal recommendations. However, I see local ownership as less of a problem, because it only affects domestic law—parliament can change it as easily as it was invented. I think the Crown will be more likely to protect foreign investors and corporations, because it affects our international agreements. Asset sales and sales to offshore of land and resources is an issue of rangatiratanga.

Capitalism itself is a product of western thinking—the focus on competition, individuality, hierarchy, power over, exploitation; the replacement of deep relationships with our environment and each other, with the abstraction of money. The fundamental assumptions of capitalism are western, they are foreign to a Māori understanding of reality, but they are imposed on all of us by the Crown. Tino rangatiratanga means re-centering Māori understandings of reality.

I am hoping the hīkoi is an opportunity for us all to talk about our different realities and reasons for standing against current government policies. I hope that it will be an opportunity for many to learn what tino rangatiratanga and colonisation really mean. I hope we will get to discuss our different understandings of our world and relationships.

In solidarity

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

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.

Mana Party, tino rangatiratanga and identity politics

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.

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

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.

1. Ko tētahi, ka whakaetehia te ture Pākehā i ēnei motu e te Pākehā, ā, ka whakaiti rātou i te tikanga Māori.
2. 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.
3. 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

Stopping a disaster before it happens

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 Māori Party and tino rangatiratanga

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.

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

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