FRAGILE SILENCE

It’s the day after Waitangi Day, 1978.  I report for afternoon duty and join the handover meeting.  There are six of us in the room.  I am the only non-white.  The Charge Nurse’s first words are to me: “Like, I’m not racist, but did you see what those idiots did at Waitangi?”

I know where this is headed but I engage anyway.

“I did.  What kind of idiots try to barge through a crowd when they could easily have gone around?” 

“I meant those Mowree idiots who threw eggs at the Governor-General!” 

“Seems tame in comparison to what gets thrown in Ireland.” 

“You’re just lucky you lot didn’t get colonised by the Spanish!” 

“Lucky, like the Irish?”

“What do you Mowrees want?”

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but what this Māori wants is to know how my patients are before I start work.” 

She stands and leaves the room without completing the handover.  I look at my colleagues who all avoid my gaze and my company for the rest of the shift. 

Later that night I ponder the total inappropriateness of the Charge Nurse and the utter gutlessness of my colleagues.  I realise that I had been expected to show more sensitivity to their sensitivity to the “r” words.    

“White Fragility” is a term first coined by Dr Robin DiAngelo to describe the defensive moves that white people make when challenged racially, particularly about “white privilege”. These include emotions such as anger, fear, guilt; and behaviours including argumentation, recentering, distancing, silencing. 

While the average person of colour has spent years developing a thick skin when it comes to systemic racism, the average white person can go through most of their formative years without ever having to think about race.  So even just hearing an “r” word can be traumatic and create a negative environment for them.

Recently, a satirical group devised a simple system to help people of colour to foster a non-hostile environment for our fragile white friends and co-workers.  Apparently, all we have to do is – Stop, Ignore, Listen, Empathise, Never Complain, and Eat. 

They only came up with this SILENCE system last year, so it wasn’t around to help me back in 1978.  But if it had been, then this is how the handover meeting might have played out.

CHARGE NURSE:  Like, I’m not racist ...  [Stop and say nothing] … but did you see what those idiots did at Waitangi?  [Ignore and say nothing] … I meant those Mowree idiots who threw eggs at the Governor-General!  [Listen, but say nothing] … You’re just lucky you lot didn’t get colonised by the Spanish!  [Empathise, either with a nod or a statement of agreement] … What do you Mowrees want? [Eat].

Unfortunately, I must interrupt this satirical SILENCE to confirm that not ALL white people are racist, even though they are all privileged by systemic racism.  Oh, the fragility. 

THE PORTRAIT

On January 3^rd, Ngāti Kahu: Portrait of a Sovereign Nation was launched on Te Paatu Marae in Pamāpuria, just south of Kaitāia.  This is an abridged review of it by Paul Moenboyd (Te Aupōuri, Ngāti Pāoa, Te Ātiawa).

“The summit of Rangikāpiti Pā in the Far North town of Mangōnui overlooks the wide expanse of Tokerau Moana (dubbed Doubtless Bay by a quickly convinced Cook) and a vast swathe of Ngāti Kahu’s rohe (territory). Similarly, Ngāti Kahu, Portrait of a Sovereign Nation, sure to become an equally imposing landmark on the northern landscape, is a sweeping overview of this iwi’s physical and emotional topography – its memories and heartaches, struggles and victories.

“Just as Ngāti Kahu draws its strength from its many different hapū, so the Portrait is made richer by its wide range of sources. These include irreplaceable oral histories gathered by the project’s historians, documentary evidence of wrongful land purchases, maps, quotations from an extensive bibliography of other works, excerpts from letters, and testimonies .... Each of these constituent parts come together to trace a remarkable hakapapa of resistance.

“True to its title, the Portrait is a nation building exercise. In scope and reach, covering the long haerenga (journey) from distant beginnings to the challenges of the present … illustrating events with first-hand experience and steeped in Ngāti Kahu’s understanding of itself and its place in the world, this work is a pou (a marking post), carved with pepehā (identifying sayings) and hakataukī (proverbs), and kōrero o mua (traditions).

“… The Portrait immerses the reader in this iwi’s worldview with a concise yet complete introduction to its stories of origin and to its unique understanding of principles such as mana, tikanga and rangatiratanga.

“The Portrait does not overlook the heke (rafters) that sustain the roof, the hapū that form Ngāti Kahu. The inhabitants of kāinga (settlements) nestled in valleys or dotted along the coast all have their time on the paepae (speakers bench). With the deep love of place that comes from generations of continuous occupation, stories of back country rivers and hills and the riches within are told, as only those who have kept the ahi kā (home fires) burning for so long can.

“… In a tone which would be bemused exasperation if not for the injustices that followed, the Portrait observes the difficulties of the first Pākehā in “living according to the laws of this land”. Despite its dispossession, Ngāti Kahu tells of the arrival of these guests not with anger, but with sadness at how the generous hospitality that was shown to the new arrivals was repaid.

“Treaty settlements are generally accompanied by a Deed of Settlement, which sets out an official version of events and of the injustices that are partially remedied. In the absence of an agreed path towards settlement with government, Ngāti Kahu’s Portrait pre-empts this and presents its truth on its own terms ...

“This Portrait is more than a testimony to Ngāti Kahu’s tenacious struggle to hold on to its home, it is also a defiant cry of independence, identity and love for the people and land, founded in a deep awareness of the past and hope for the future. It is a rewarding read for anyone with an interest in history, identity, and how memory shapes not only our sense of self, [but also] the landscape we live in and the way we imagine our future.”

Published by Huia, the Portrait is available in bookshops nationwide.

TE HONONGA - THE CONNECTION

Visitors to Te Ahu Centre in Kaitāia enter a circular atrium bounded by seven Poupou (carved pillars) representing seven nations; Ngāti Kuri, Te Aupōuri, Ngāi Takoto, Te Rarawa, Ngāti Kahu, Pākehā and Tarara.  Each Pou has its own name and kōrero.  The name of our Pou is Te Hononga o Ngāti Kahu, and this is the kōrero.

The central figures in the top section are our Tūpuna Whaea (ancestress) Kahutianui, her husband Te Parata, and their daughter Māmangi.  The patterns above them represent Mau-o-ngā-Taniwha, the mountain range where many of their Kai Tiaki (guardians) live; the Ruru (owl), the Kaahu (hawk) and the Taniwha (powerful spirit creatures).  Maungataniwha marks our Whanaungatanga (relationship) with Ngāpuhi and Ngāti Kahu ki Whaingaroa.   Behind Kahutianui, Te Wheke (the guardian octopus) wraps a protective Paapaaringa (tentacle), anchoring her to the Moana (ocean) and the Whenua (land).  Te Parata protects her left with a Hoeroa Tohora (an ancient whalebone throwing weapon), and Māmangi protects her right with the Hoe Urungi (steering paddle) which holds Mana (power and authority) and represents both a weapon and steerage into the future.  Alongside hangs Te Kete Tuatea (the basket of light and of current knowledge) woven in Tāniko.  In this section we see our history as Kai Tiaki and the need to maintain this role in the face of changing circumstances.

Central to the middle section are the Tara (female genitalia) and Ure (male genitalia) representing our Hakapapa (who we are and where we come from).  This section also contains the Mana of the many Waka (traditional voyaging canoes) represented by the Aukaha (rope lashings) that connect Ngāti Kahu to other Iwi throughout the Motu (country) as well as to the peoples of Te Moana-nui-ā Kiwa (the Pacific Ocean).  Our main waka, Māmaru, was readzed from the waka Tinana which had been captained by Tūmoana, the father of Kahutianui.  It strengthens our connection to Te Rarawa.  The paua Paatu (portals) on either side describe our conscious movement between Te Ao Wairua (the realm of spirit) and Te Ao Mārama (the physical world) as part of life’s journey.  Between them hangs Te Kete Tuauri (the basket of darkness and knowledge yet to be revealed) woven from Pingao (sedge), Kiekie (epiphyte) and Muka (flax fibre).  Tikanga was developed by our Tūpuna to give us life and guide us in our relationships.  In this section we see that, just as the Waka Tinana was readzed for another life-giving mission, so too is Tikanga open to informed debate to fit changing circumstances. 

The bottom section commences with Te Kete Aronui (the basket of knowledge currently being sought by humans) woven from Kiekie and Pingao.  It hangs above Rangi (the sky), Moana (the sea), Motu (the islands off our coast) and Tangaroa (god of the oceans). Below them swim the Pākaurua (stingray) denoting our allies, and the Pioke (ground shark) of Rangaunu harbour denoting our connection to Ngāi Takoto.  The eight Paapaaringa of Te Wheke emerge, some in the form of Manaia (spirit beings), to touch significant sites in our Rohe (territory); Hukatere, connecting us to Ngāti Kuri in the north; Whatu (Berghans Pt) on the east; Rangiāniwaniwa in the centre; Maungataniwha in the south; Takahue, Ngākohu, Kaitāia and Te Oneroa-ā-Tohe (90 Mile Beach) on the west.  Peeking between the Manaia is the Tāmure (snapper) inviting us to play and engage with each other.  These striking images remind us that our Rangatiratanga (the right to exercise power and authority) can never be set by others, but only by us through utilising our life-giving Tikanga and maintaining our life-sustaining Kaitiakitanga in all circumstances.   

This kōrero came from our hapū at numerous hui, interviews and wānanga.  We thank all those involved in transforming our kōrero into the design, concept and execution of our  Poupou; most especially Paul Marshall-Slade (Tohunga Hakairo o Ngāti Kahu), Bonnie Kerapa (Kai Hakairo o Ngāpuhi me Tainui), Nina Raharuhi (Kai Raranga o Haiti-tai-marangai Marae) and Clare Stensness (Kai Raranga o Karepōnia Marae).

A VERSATILE VERB

Many years ago at a hui I stood to answer a nasty comment aimed at my daughter.  But I must have looked as annoyed as I felt, because when I went to stand another cousin pulled me back down, smiled at me like only cousins can, and said, “Settle petal.” 

“Settle.”  If ever there was a versatile English word, it is that one.  You can settle an argument, an account, a plan, a territory, your furniture or yourself.  Birds can settle from a flight and a person can settle from a fright.  You can settle into a job or a marriage, and a cold can settle into your head or your chest.  You can even settle for something less than satisfactory. 

For iwi, that last definition is particularly poignant because it not only describes how some of us have accepted something less to “settle” our claims, it also means we must deal with the very unsettling results. 

This is an underlying theme emerging from the research project, What Do the Claimants Say: Reconceptualising the Treaty Claims Settlement Process.

The researchers note that the government’s publicly stated purpose for its settlement process is to improve race relations, acknowledge and resolve historical injustices, restore the honour of the Crown, remove the sense of grievance felt by Māori, improve the socio-economic status of Māori, and achieve full, final and fair settlements of our claims. 

However, both the Doug Graham 1997 book, Trick or Treaty and the 1990s Cabinet minutes clearly show that government’s true underlying purpose in its settlement process is to clawback Māori legal rights to binding recommendations provided for in the State-owned Enterprises Act and the Crown Forest Assets Act.   And yet, only 1 of the 118 interviewees to date was aware of this. 

That is just one of a very large number of common themes that have emerged from the research interviews thus far, as well as from thousands of claimant submissions to the Māori Affairs Select Committee made since the very first settlement more than 30 years ago.  

Another primary theme is that, while claimants want their claims settled fully and fairly, they all reported no evidence that settlement has delivered on any of the Crown’s public assertions.  Another is that whānau and hapū are frequently marginalised under the Crown’s large natural grouping policy.  In fact, many report being bullied by the Crown and having settled under duress. 

When my cousin sat me down all those years ago, she went on to deliver a hilarious kōrero that helped settle both the petal and the matter.  She was able to do that because she knew the truth, had the facts to back it up and the skill to deliver it. 

Claimants who choose to pursue their legal rights, operate with a similar knowledge / skill set and fact pattern as my cousin.  Their aim is also to settle, but not for less. Because they know that “settle” is indeed a very versatile verb.

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

The National Iwi Chairs’ Forum (ICF) comprises the Chairpersons of 73 Iwi entities, representing 65 Iwi.  Its purpose is contained in the hakatauki (proverb), he waka kōtuia kāhore e tukutukua ngā mimira (a canoe that is interlaced will not become separated at the bow – in unity there is strength). 

The ICF meets four times a year: February in Taitokerau, May in the central North Island, August in Tainui, and November in the South Island.  It operates via four Pou:  Pou Taiao, Pou Tikanga, Pou Tāngata and Pou Tāhua.  Each Pou works via Iwi Leader Groups (ILGs) made up of Iwi Chairs with expertise and interest in a particular field.  Each ILG is, in turn, supported by a Technical Advisory Group (TAG) made up of experts in their respective field.  Following are very brief summaries of some of the work done by each Pou.

Te Pou Taiao works on Climate Change, Freshwater, Conservation, Biodiversity, Biosecurity, Oil and Minerals, and Te Kahu o te Taiao (Māori knowledge in relation to the environment).  Climate change has recently been escalated to crisis level by the government and work has begun on developing educational materials for whānau and hapū on what to expect and how to cope, especially with extreme weather events.  The Freshwater ILG is also developing resources for whānau, hapū and iwi and preparing for the continuation of the freshwater and geothermal hearings in the Waitangi Tribunal in March. The Pou also negotiated the Mana Whakahono ā Rohe provisions of the Resource Management Act that were legislated last year and are now being implemented. Regional workshops on these are being conducted around the motu (country) with the next one for Te Taitokerau hosted by Ngāti Kuri in Te Hāpua on 13^th March.  

Te Pou Tikanga deals with Constitutional Transformation, the Monitoring Mechanism and the Treaty Claims Settlement process.  The Monitoring Mechanism reports each year to the United Nations Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples on whether and how the government is complying with the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. This year’s report will contain feedback from Iwi workshops held around the motu on Constitutional Transformation, Self-determination, Lands Territories and Resources, Cultural Rights, Equality and Non-discrimination.  Ngāti Kahu will host a workshop in March, date and venue yet to be confirmed.

Te Pou Tāngata deals primarily with Whānau Ora including Justice, Education, Housing, Rangatahi-ā-iwi and Data (statistics). These ILGs have numerous priority areas including child poverty and well-being, an inquiry into child abuse in state institutions, reducing incarceration rates and exercising rangatiratanga in respect of data collection.

Te Pou Tāhua deals with Trade and Economic Development.  Its purpose is to advance Iwi Maori as Pokai Ao – participating citizens of the world. 

The ICF’s unity and work have achieved results beyond the capacity of most individual Iwi. However, given the autonomous nature of Iwi there are inevitable tensions.  Hei aha.  Perhaps the ICF might add to the translation of its hakatauki this saying; the struggle is real.

WITCH DOCTOR

At the beginning of last week, a former Reserve Bank governor and National Party leader called Dr Don Brash posted to facebook, “I am utterly sick of people talking in Maori on RNZ in what are primarily English-language broadcasts.”  In a followup interview with RNZ he made it clear, “I don’t want to hear it [te reo Maori] ... I don’t want to learn it ...” 

When I listened to Dr Brash, I chuckled because his words took me back to 1982.

When the then five minute Maori news segment, Te Karere, first hit the airwaves on TV1, there was strong resistance from two of my fellow Nurses’ Home residents to my watching it instead of Top Town on the only other channel at that time, TV2.

“You Maori have got your own news.  Where will it end?” asked one.  “It’s a barbaric language and I don’t want to listen to it,” said the other.  But the cincher was. “There’s already too much Maari on TV as it is.”  When I asked how five minutes of te reo Maori out of 720 minutes of daily broadcast could be considered too much, the response was, “You’ve got On the Mat too.” 

I laughed.  Then I switched over to TV1.  When they realised they didn’t have the power or authority to ban Te Karere, those two removed themselves from the TV room.  I wonder where they are now. 

Which brings me back to the end of last week, when a poet and musician called Rob Ruha spoke these words to a dinner gathering of Iwi and National Party leaders, “Are you someone,” he asked them, “that can heal our people?  Or are you a Spin Doctor? ... Do you just say that you can heal us, and do nothing but sit on your hands?” 

Then he paused before asking further, “Are you someone who enacts and enables this thing called māuiui whenua?  Mauiui whenua is what Hori Keeti explained as our disconnection from our maunga, from our awa, and from our whenua.  And when we’re disconnected like that, ka māuiui te iwi.  Engari, ka ahu mai tera māuiui i te whenua. (The people become sick, and that sickness extends into the land as well.)”

Then he concluded, “Pena ka ora e te Atua te māuiui tangata, ka ora ano huri ia ia te māuiui whenua.  (Healing the people will lead, in turn, to healing the land.)  He aha tēnei mea te māuiui whenua?  Ko nga ture e nga kati e te kakī o te Mana Maori Motuhake.  (What is this thing that afflicts the land?  It is the laws’ stranglehold on the throat of Maori and our self-determination.)”

As 2017 ends, everyone inside an iwi should ponder Rob Ruha’s questions about leadership.  As for Don Brash, he’s just there as an object lesson and reminder to us all on what leadership isn’t.

Nga mihi aroha ki a tātou katoa.  Ka kite ano i te tau 2018. 

A NEW RESOLUTION

Driving home from a visit to whānau in Pawarenga this weekend and listening to our mokopuna talk in the backseat, I heard the seven year old ask, “Did you see the harakeke growing in that dead tree?”  In response her ten year old brother observed, “Ka pu te ruha, ka hao te rangatahi.” (As an old net withers, another is remade.)  This signifies new growth emerging from old growth.

Inside an iwi, this is a metaphor for a process of change from one leadership regime to another.  Like the cyclical growth and decay of trees, it is a process that takes time and space, the kind provided in gatherings such as hui, hakaminenga and rūnanga.  

I thought about this process when we heard the following morning that the “Old Man” of world politics, 93 year old Robert Mugabe, had agreed to “step down” as President of Zimbabwe.  On the surface it looks like a bloodless coup, apparently a requirement of both China and the USA in exchange for their support of those waiting in the wings to replace Mugabe.  But dress it up as they may, it is still a revolt.

The Zimbabwean historical experience of colonisation by white people matches ours.  However, their current situation fits a different metaphor captured in a quote from Thomas Jefferson, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States of America, and the chief author of that country’s Declaration of Independence who went on to become its third President.  “Every generation,” Jefferson declared, “needs a new revolution.”  Does it?

Revolution is a process of change that takes place in a relatively short period of time when a group rises up in revolt against their current leaders.  It can be peaceful, but, more often than not, it isn’t.

The French Revolution had a death toll in excess of 1.4 million.  The American Revolution led to the deaths of more than 100,000 out of a population of less than 2 million.  The October Revolution saw a communist dictatorship replace a Tzarist autocracy in Russia at the loss of 9 million people.  The Iranian Revolution replaced a secular democracy with a theocratic dictatorship and a death toll somewhere between 200 people to 70,000, depending on who you believe.  Were these four revolutions alone worth that many dead?  Surely not.

Our own history is also full of warfare and death, but not on the scale described above and never merely for the sake of changing one system of government for another.  Even during the British wars of invasion when kupapa fought against other iwi, their motives were less about accepting British sovereignty and more about protecting their own rangatiratanga.

Back to Zimbabwe and Mugabe.  As I write this article, the wily Old Man has still not resigned, and his would-be replacements are looking a bit lost.  I wish they all had mokopuna sitting behind them to remind them that, just as new growth emerges from old, what every generation needs, is a new resolution.

OFF THE HOOK

Our rangatahi (youth) have some really insightful sayings.  One of my favourites is, “Off the hook,” which signifies many things. 

Initially, it referred to a phone not being hung up.  Then, over the years its meaning morphed to include getting out of difficulties, as in, “His lawyer got him off the hook.”

Today, it has also come to mean being either very good, as in, “The kai was off the hook”, or something that is beyond normal, as in, “Man, that skateboarder’s moves were off the hook.” 

A third modern meaning is something that is considered illogical or even insane, as in, “It’s off the hook to claim that apples can be compared with oranges because they are both fruit.”  That’s the meaning that came to my mind as I sat in the judicial conference yesterday and listened to the Crown’s latest argument about the Ngāti Kahu claim for remedies that is currently before the Waitangi Tribunal. 

Essentially the Crown argues that, because the Tribunal is now composed of an entirely new panel, the previous Tribunal having recused itself, then they must start a new inquiry to determine for themselves if Ngāti Kahu has well-founded claims, even though that has already been determined by both the 1997 and 2012 Tribunal panels and reports.  Additionally, it argues that a new inquiry ought to be started to cover all other unheard claims up to the present day.

The basis of its argument is a legal principle, audi alteram partem, which translates as, “he who hears must decide.”  While there is undoubted merit in that principle, it must be offset against another legal principle that says, “Justice delayed is justice denied.”  Ngāti Kahu have been seeking remedies for thirty years now, and to suggest that the new Tribunal ought to make a ruling that will delay that any longer is, in my opinion, “off the hook”. 

As is usual with judicial processes, the arguments were largely technical and often complex and were advanced mainly by lawyers.  However, a couple of points were illustrative of the Crown’s position.

First, the Crown concedes the possibility that this new panel, if it does start a new inquiry to hear all claims up to the present day, may yet arrive at the same point as the previous two panels with regard to Ngāti Kahu’s claims being well-founded.  The very possibility of such an outcome would surely be a travesty of justice delayed and thus denied.

Second, the Crown asserted that, because Ngāti Kahu’s claims are made against the Crown, and because the Tribunal has been set up by the Crown to make recommendations to the Crown, then it too is entitled to be heard in a new inquiry and to receive the Tribunal’s report on that inquiry. 

However, the Tribunal Judge was clear that any decision it made for binding recommendations cannot be appealed by the Crown. 

As I complete this article the Crown is still talking and there is no way of knowing how the Tribunal will rule.  But it is very clear from the kōrero of our people that they agree with our rangatahi; the Crown’s arguments are “off the hook.”

DO NO HARM

Two months ago, I had a conversation with a fellow traveller who is Tangata Tiriti and who had contested their party’s candidate selection for a General seat. I asked, “Is the current system working for Pākehā in New Zealand?”  They answered, “No.” 

Well, it isn’t working for Tangata Whenua either.  So why do so many of us still participate in it?  It’s not as if it’s the only game in town; we do all have other options, and some of us are actively engaged in running those.  But the fact remains that, until the current system is transformed out of existence, we must participate in it in order to mitigate against the worst excesses and atrocities that it sends our way.

That mitigation shows up in resistance to the activities of Orwellian Ministries that disrupt whakapapa and uplift whenua.   It manifests in pushback against the weakening of human rights in favour of corporate rights.  It is seen in pursuit of legal rights that have been eroded by political interference.  

Sadly, it is rarely seen in those who stand for election, and is even less evident amongst those who win.

Nevertheless, even with that history in mind, I cast my vote for the 15^th time in a general election. But this time I did so based solely on experience augmented by information direct from the websites and policy documents of the respective parties.  I did not read or watch any media reportage or commentary on the various campaigns, and I made no comment of my own in that regard. 

I voted on day one of the election, then did not give the process any further thought or effort until 5.50pm on Thursday 19^th October when I tuned into the New Zealand Herald’s livestream. 

The waiting journalists gathered in Parliament sounded like clucking chooks, and someone must have realised it was not a good sound, because after ten minutes they turned the audio off leaving us with surreal silent video.  Then Winston strode in a little before 7pm to begin his delivery.

It was not until he uttered the word, “Labour”, that I realised how much I had not wanted to hear the word, “National”.  For, even though I know the history, I also know that the increasing number of fragile people in this country could not take another three years of governance under the most relentlessly venomous front bench I have ever seen. 

As my fellow traveller had confirmed, the system was not working for any of us.  But that deficiency had been given additional venom by a government that had weaponised and actively used it against us. 

Under the new government I sense people are cautiously feeling a tiny bit of hope for some respite from dystopian Ministries, some relief from corporatisation, some respect for the rule of law.  My message to the new government is simple; there’s a lot of hurt out here.  if you can’t heal us, at least try to do us no harm.

AN UNSETTLED HISTORY

In his last speech as a Member of Parliament, Sir Douglas Graham, the driving force behind Treaty of Waitangi settlement policy during the 1990s, had this short, bitter exchange with then opposition MP Tariana Turia.

Rt Hon. Sir DOUGLAS GRAHAM: If that member thinks we are going to deal with hapū settlements, she can forget it. There are thousands of them, and if she thinks the Crown is dividing people now, which we are certainly not trying to do—

Tariana Turia: It's a treaty right.

Rt Hon. Sir DOUGLAS GRAHAM: The member keeps talking about treaty rights. If the member does not want any settlements, and I know she does not, then, say we want to deal hapū by hapū, in a thousand years' time she will still be working it out and will still be arguing about the hapū rohe boundary. It is bad enough dealing at the iwi level, but that is another issue.

The nub of what Doug Graham and Tariana Turia were debating was the ‘fiscal cap’ policy that he and his officials had designed to extinguish the unsettled historical claims of Māori for remedies to the prejudice and harm caused them by Crown breaches of the treaty. 

When that policy was unilaterally imposed by government on Māori in late 1994, it set a $1billion cap on the amount of money the government would make available for settlement.  It also set a time limit of ten years in which to settle all claims within the fiscal cap.  And it stipulated that claims would be settled with ‘large natural groupings’ of Māori, rather than with the actual whānau, hapū or iwi who had sustained the prejudice and harm.

That policy, which has only been slightly modified by successive governments, is based either on untested or untrue assumptions.  The first is that Crown-sponsored crimes against Māori ought not be dealt with legally, but should instead be dealt with politically. 

The second assumption is that if Māori with well-founded claims seek legal reparation, the country will go broke.  Therefore, Māori claims must be dealt with as cheaply as possible. 

The final assumption is that Te Tiriti o Waitangi, the Māori language document debated and signed by more than 500 Māori, is the same in content and intent as the fraudulent English language Treaty of Waitangi.  Therefore, Māori claims must be extinguished rather than settled. 

In New Zealand the only others whose claims of prejudice and harm get unilaterally extinguished politically and cheaply are the imprisoned, the insane and the institutionalised.  In New Zealand there is no constitutional protection for the human rights of Māori and these ‘others’ to equality before the law and freedom from such discrimination. 

In New Zealand there is no constitutional fetter on the power of government. In New Zealand, government don’t just try to divide the people, they actually succeed at it.  Until those facts are constitutionally addressed, New Zealand will continue to have an unsettled history.

MODELLING CONSTITUTIONAL RELATIONSHIPS

MODELLING CONSTITUTIONAL RELATIONSHIPS

Distilled from more than 300 hui over half a decade, six different indicative models for a new constitutional arrangement have been identified by Matike mai o Aotearoa (the independent Working Group).

The first is a tricameral or three sphere model consisting of an Iwi/Hapū assembly (the rangatiratanga sphere), the Crown in Parliament (the kāwanatanga sphere) and a joint deliberative body (the relational sphere).

The second is a different three sphere model consisting of an assembly made up of Iwi, Hapū and other representation including Urban Māori Authorities (the rangatiratanga sphere), the Crown in Parliament (the kāwanatanga sphere), and a joint deliberative body (the relational sphere).

A further three sphere model consisting of an Iwi/Hapū assembly (the rangatiratanga sphere), the Crown in Parliament (the kāwanatanga sphere), and regional assemblies made up of Iwi, Hapū and Crown representatives (the relational sphere).

 

The fourth is a multi-sphere model consisting of an assembly of Iwi/Hapū and other Māori representation (the rangatiratanga sphere) and the Crown in Parliament (the kāwanatanga sphere). It also includes a relational sphere which would have two parts – a constitutionally mandated set of direct Iwi/Hapū/Crown relationships to enable direct Iwi/Hapu-Crown decision-making plus a unitary perhaps annual assembly of broader Māori and Crown representation.  

The fifth is a unicameral or one sphere model consisting of Iwi/Hapū and the Crown making decisions together in a constitutionally mandated assembly. This model does not have rangatiratanga or kāwanatanga spheres. It only has the relational sphere.

The sixth is a bicameral Model made up of an Iwi/Hapū assembly and the Crown in Parliament. This model has distinct rangatiratanga and kāwanatanga spheres but has no provision for a relational sphere.

 The Relational sphere

Iwi, Hapū, the Crown in Assembly

As the above narratives and diagrams show, these models are all about constituting ourselves based on relationship.