Rau rangatira ma, nga mata waka, nga
karangaranga maha,
tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou.
On Wellington's Anniversary Day in 1990, a Maori
friend and I joined the crowd streaming onto the Petone Beach to witness a
re-enactment of the arrival of the first British settlers and theirreception by the tangata whenua. Covering every
square inch of
the beach we picnicked, sang and waited
patiently until two tall
ships emerged from behind an island and costumed
"settlers"
disembarked into the ships' cutters. Two carved
waka dashed out
from the shore, literally ran rings round the
cutters and
escorted them towards the beach. Descendant of
Scottish settlers
who arrived in Auckland in 1842, I experienced
an unexpected rush of pride and identification - with the settlers being landed
on
the beach, yes, but even more with the friendly,
rainbow crowd
and the waka cleaving the harbour waters with
such panache. 1
Reflecting on my vivid memory of that
experience, I see it
as containing three elements essential to
building our New
Zealand nation: first,
the unique contribution of the Maori people;
secondly,
celebration of the ethnic diversity within our
population; and thirdly,
a sense of belonging to the land and each
other, that is, a strong national identity.
Of course there are other essential features to
our nationhood,
democracy and recognition of human rights, for
example. But for
present purposes I shall concentrate on these
three.
For at least thirty years we have been debating
three
competing models of nationhood, each with its
passionate
adherents.
The
first model is summed up in the slogan "We are all
New Zealanders". This model emphasises the
goal of national
unity but devalues diversity and the Maori
contribution by
implication. It is a re-statement of the old
policy of
assimilation imposed by a dominant majority on
the Maori
and other minorities.
The
second model is encapsulated in the word
"biculturalism". This model focuses on
the relationship
between the heirs of the two parties to the
Treaty of
Waitangi. By implication, it sidelines
discussion of
national unity and the place of other
minorities.
The
third model is summed up as "multiculturalism". Thismodel focuses attention on the large number of different
cultures now established in New Zealand and
their right to
recognition. By implication, it reduces Maori
culture to
one among many and sidesteps the issue of
national unity.
Each of these models leaves out of account one
or more of
the elements I have identified as essential
features of New
Zealand nationhood. As a nation looking forward
to the bi-centenary of our founding, we need to do some lateral thinking
and develop a model of nationhood that is
inclusive and positive
about our relations with each other.
And so we come to the title I have chosen for
this lecture RopeWorks - He Taura Whiri. The Maori word 'taura' means a rope and
'whiri' means 'to plait', the technical process used in rope making. 'He taura
whiri' is 'a plaited rope', a metaphor much beloved by Maori orators. They
commonly use it to describe the way middle-sized descent groups - hapu - are
plaited together in
the iwi by common descent and the diplomatic
skills of the
rangatira. They also apply it to any situation
where disparate
elements are combined in a unity.
Making ropes the traditional way, Maori twisted
and rolled
strands of scraped flax (muka) together to make
longer strands
(aho) and then plaited as many as sixteen aho
together to make
ropes, some round, some square. The strands
might vary in
thickness and colour, and new ones were easily
spliced in. A rope
thus made was many times stronger than any of
its strands alone.
All of us have experience of ropes in our
everyday lives, so we
should readily understand how this metaphor
could be used to
inspire a new model of nation-building.
Such a model would begin with strands
representing the two
parties to the Treaty of Waitangi, Maori and
Pakeha, splice in
the diversity of other ethnic groups, and plait
them all together
together into a strong and effective whole,
creating a sense of
belonging to each other, of national identity.
Cliff Whiting has
translated this metaphor into visual terms in
his drawing 'The
Rope of Peoples'.2
Once we have developed our vision for the future
we can only
achieve it if we work together. I used the term
'RopeWorks' in
the title to emphasise that nation-building,
like rope-making,
involves skill, co-operation and continuous hard
work.
What is the extent of our ethnic diversity? In
this context,
the relative size of the groups matters less
than their total
number and the degree of overlap between them.
In the 2001
Census, respondents identified themselves as
belonging to sixty
ethnic groups.3 The Statistics Department classified these into
five main ethnic groups: the European group,
which consisted of
a majority who identifiedthemselves as New
Zealand European or
Pakeha and 24 small groups with origins in the
United Kingdom and Europe; the Maori group; the Pacific Peoples, comprising 9
constituent groups; the Asian ethnic group,
comprising 17
constituent groups; and an 'Other' category
comprising 10.
Significantly, nearly 12% of respondents
declared themselves as
belonging to two or more groups, and this
percentage had morethan doubled since 1991. Nearly half of the Maori group and 12%
of the European group belonged to other groups
as well. The 60
ethnic groups thus identified vary widely in the
extent to which
their members interact socially and have a
strong group identity.
A brief aside about this word 'Pakeha'. Some
people reject
it as a label, in the mistaken belief that its
meaning is
derogatory. I know at least ten stories
purporting to explain its
origin and/or meaning. None can be
substantiated; most sound like
the tall stories people tell to tease or to
disguise their
ignorance. Maori people generally use the word
descriptively to
refer to people of British or European origin
who have put down
roots in this country. They stretch this basic
meaning to include
all non-Maori when they use the pair 'Maori and
Pakeha'. Of
course, individuals
can say the word Pakeha with a sneer in
their voice, but it is not built into the word
itself. I for one
am happy to identify myself as Pakeha. 4
Even when strongly committed to one ethnic
group, New Zealanders are not sealed off from each other or from outside
influences. We encounter each other at work, in the marketplace and in
recreational activities. We form attachments across cultural boundaries;
we marry and raise children who have two or more cultural heritages. In
short, we share large areas of common life.
Our news media daily supply us with evidence of
stereotyping, prejudice, misunderstanding and talking past each other. If we
are to build a strong and confident nation, we
need to work, deliberately and hard, at improving the extent and especially the
quality of our common life.
As a contribution to that end, I propose to
concentrate on
four areas which we tend to take for granted,
because they are
either too close to or too distant from everyday
experience.
first, the events surrounding the first signing
of the
Treaty of Waitangi;
secondly, the language of communication between
ethnic
groups;
thirdly, public ceremonial; and
fourthly, creativity in the arts.
The three elements of nationhood I identified at
the beginning
the Maori contribution, celebration of
diversity, and a sense of
belonging to each other - will inevitably come
up under each of
these headings.
First, then, the signing of the Treaty at
Waitangi. The Waitangi National Trust has a whakatauki, a proverbial saying,that
begins
'Ko Waitangi te pitowhenua', Waitangi is the
birthplace, the place where the umbilical cord and placenta of our infant nation
are
buried. It goes on, 'Ko te Tiriti te kaihautu'.
The Treaty is (like) the navigator who calls directions and rhythms to the
paddlers
of a waka and keeps them on course.5 Despite its
status as the 'founding document' of our nation, there is plenty of evidence,
especially on talk-back shows and in everyday conversations,
to suggest that many New Zealanders know
relatively little about
the Treaty and do not see it as relevant to
their lives. Policy makers tell us that 'The Treaty lives', that is, it is not
simply a matter of historical record but has on-going relevance for the present
and the future. But if it is to live in reality, it has to live in the hearts
and
minds of all New Zealanders. How is that to be
achieved? Not, I
think, by off-putting textual analysis and legal
arguments. To
make the Treaty come alive I know no better way
than telling and
retelling the story of the events which took
place at Waitangi
on 5 and 6 February 1840 and following that up
with the story of
the signing that took place nearest to you.
The Waitangi story is a lively one, full of
drama and humour.
Young or old, Maori or Pakeha, old settler or
recent immigrant,
we can find someone among those present to
identify with, see similarities between their situation and ours, and learn from
how they handled it. 6
The people present were more numerous and more
diverse than is
usually recognised. The 43 chiefs - the
rangatira - who signed
the Treaty at Waitangi each had an entourage of
supporters,
making up a total of around 300. They belonged
to independent
political units (hapu) mainly from the Middle
North, many of whom had been fighting each other in quite recent times.
Lieutenant Governor Hobson's officials, the missionaries and local settlers
included Irish, Scots and Cornishmen as well as English, the sailors from the
ships anchored in the Bay were recruited from
the Pacific and Asia as well as Europe, and
Bishop Pompallier and
his staff asserted the French presence. There
were women there
too, wives, servants and chiefs' relatives. One
woman, Ana Hamu
from Kawakawa, signed the Treaty as a rangatira
in her own right.
And where there were women they were children,
watching wide-eyed or skylarking round the fringes.
Throughout the two days, Maori and British ways
of doing things
were intertwined. Printed invitations were sent
to the rangatira
in the name of the British Resident, James
Busby. Early on 5
February, sailors from HMS Herald erected a
marquee on the grass
in front of the British Residency. The chiefs
and their supporters gathered there as on a marae. They did not need to be
welcomed:
some had been owners of the land and all had
frequently visited
Busby the Busbys there. Coming ashore from HMS
Herald, Hobson called first at the Residency where he was welcomed by James and
Agnes Busby and met local bigwigs.
From the time Hobson took his seat in the
marquee about 10 a.m., proceedings followed marae protocol. Hobson greeted the
chiefs, explained why he had come and read the English draft of the Treaty; Rev.
Henry Williams translated what Hobson said into Maori, then read and explained
the Maori text. In Maori terms, Hobson and Williams together laid down the
kaupapa, the purpose of the hui, for debate. And debate it the chiefs did,
observing marae tikanga or rules. The local chief, Te Kemara from Te Tii on the
south bank of the river, opened and later closed the speechmaking. Different
speakers set out the arguments for and against accepting the Treaty and the
debate swung back and forth between the two views. At four o'clock Hobson
adjourned the debate till 7 February, probably advised by Busby that Maori
needed plenty of time to work their way to consensus. The chiefs moved back
across the river to Te Kemara's settlement at Te Tii and continued the debate
into the night.
They returned to the Residency lawn early next
morning, having
decided to agree to the Treaty. Hobson was
called ashore from HMS Herald and the chiefs signed the text of the Treaty
presented for the purpose. It was the Maori text which had been read to them
the day before.7 In signing, they fell in with
British insistence
on written records, though for them assent given
orally before witnesses was enough. Aware of the differences between their
cultures, the two parties did their best to meet
each other halfway.
The whole scene has a contemporary feel to it,
an outdoor public
event where today's Kiwis would have felt at
home. Features we
like to think of as typically Kiwi -
do-it-yourself and improvise-
with-the-materials-at-hand were well to the
fore. Hobson arrived
in the Bay on 29 January with a set of notes
which he proceeded to knock into the shape of a treaty with the help of Busby
and Rev.
Henry Williams. Williams and his son Edward received an English text at 4 pm
on February 4 and burnt the midnight oil translating it into Maori. The sailors
created the marquee out of ships' sails and made it festive with signal flags.
Local traders, Maori and Pakeha, set up food stalls. When the chiefs came back
to Waitangi unexpectedly on 6 February, Hobson went ashore in civvies, pausing
only to snatch up his naval hat.
Nor was conflict and protest missing. The
chiefs' speeches were expressed with the full force of Maori rhetoric: many were
fiery
to say the least. The traders who spoke Maori
challenged the
accuracy of Williams' translation and had a shot
at doing better. Bishop Pompallier interrupted proceedings to ask for a
guarantee
of religious freedom, Colenso questioned whether
the chiefs
understood the provisions of the Treaty.
Yet for all that,
conflict was contained: there was an atmosphere
of mutual respect
and good humour.
In spite of all the mistakes and conflicts that
have marred our
history since, the founding event of our
nationhood was one to be
proud of -- and to learn from.
The second area of common life I shall explore
concerns the language of communication.
From the founding of our nation to the present,
language has played an important if not always positive part in relations
between our ethnic groups. Maori was the main language spoken at Waitangi in
1840; Not only the missionaries but sailors, traders and settlers were
reasonably proficient in it. Within a few years, however, English became the
only official language, dominating the areas of public life, including
Parliament, in ways that caused deep resentment among Maori. For long periods
Maori was excluded from school playgrounds as well as classrooms and Maori
public servants were forbidden to write to Maori clients in Maori. By the 1970s,
the number of native speakers had declined sp drastically that the Maori
language was under serious threat of extinction; its recovery became a central
feature of the rebuilding of Maori identity and pride and has remained so ever
since. Special legislation made Maori the nation's second official language in
1986. The last five to ten years have seen an escalating use of Maori in the
areas of public life, where it serves as a symbol of the status of the Maori
people as the indigenous tangata whenua and of New Zealand's identity as a
nation.
Public bodies, especially government departments
and educational institutions, have added Maori names to the English ones on
their letterheads, on the facades and inside their buildings. Some of
these are straightforward, Te Tari Tatau – the
Department of Measurement - for the Statistics Department, for example, but
others make use of Maori metaphors in
illuminating ways. The Ministry for Education is Te Tahuhu o Te
Matauranga, the ridgepole of the house of knowledge. The Ministry of Maori
Development, Te Puni Kokiri, is harder to render into English: 'puni' is a
company of people, 'kokiri' expresses the idea of forward momentum.
Classification headings in public libraries now have Maori equivalents. The
computer section, for example, is labelled
Rorohiko, combining 'roro', the word for brain
and 'hiko', the word
for lightning which is also used for
electricity, a bilingual pun
of the kind Maori enjoy immensely.
Since the public rallied to the support of
telephonist Naida Pou
when she was threatened with sacking for saying
'kia ora' when answering calls, 'kia ora' and 'tena koe' have become accepted
greetings. In many places it is now customary for public figures, whatever their
own ethnic background, to preface their speeches
with appropriate sentiments in Maori. Over the
last few years I
have noted significant increases not only in the
number of
non-Maori speaking Maori in public but in the
level of proficiency attained.
Most significant of all, Maori words have been
absorbed into
New Zealand English in a continuing stream,
their acceptance
marked by their use without explanation in the
media, to the
bemusement of overseas visitors and New
Zealanders returning
after an absence. A short list would include:
mana, whanau, hapu
and iwi, karakia, powhiri, hui, marae, kaumatua,
kohanga reo,
kuia, mokopuna, koha, rangatiratanga, waka,
whakapapa - I could
easily treble that number. New Zealand English
has become a true
lingua franca, a language which belongs not to
just one ethnic
group but to us all, recognised worldwide as a
distinctive national variant of an international language.
However, while important for the development of
national identity,
the adoption of such words can actually become
an obstacle to
inter-group communication and understanding.
Typically, Maori words which have a range of meanings and rich resonances are
taken into English with only one meaning, and that often a secondary meaning.
English speakers without a knowledge of Maori assume that these reduced meanings
are the entire meaning of such words, fail to understand what Maori speakers are
saying when they use them, and underestimate both the richness and adaptability
of the Maori language. Sometimes the limited meaning attributed to a word by
non-Maori has a negative feedback effect on its usage by Maori.
Take the word kaumatua, for example. Used in an
English context, kaumatua is usually glossed as 'elder' and pegged to older age
groups defined by age in years. In Maori,
kaumatua has three
meanings: adult, old man or woman, and a group
leader generally
but not necessarily drawn from the older
generations.
In short, a kaumatua as much if not more by
function than by age.
When English speakers use kaumatua with a
meaning defined in
terms of a minimum number of years, the result
is embarrassment
all round: when, for example, they exclude
acknowledged kaumatua from an invitation list because they are below an
arbitrarily chosen age limit, or when they fail to recognise someone as leader
of a whanau or hapu because they 'look too young', or when they assume that all
Maori over a certain age are leaders knowledgeable about tikanga.
Unfortunately, Maori who did not learn Maori in a community setting have
been adversely affected by this English usage. 8
The word 'whanau' is even trickier than kaumatua.
English speakers who do not know Maori rightly identify whanau with the English
word 'family', but get into deep water when they assume that it refers to the
nuclear family of parents and children. For Maori the primary meaning of whanau,
the one which comes first to mind, is a group of closely related kinsfolk who
act and interact with each other on
an on-going basis and have a strong collective
identity. This is a special kind of extended
family, one in which nuclear families are interdependent rather than
independent. It is
very different from the kind of extended family
known to Pakeha,
but close to those known to ethnic groups from
the Pacific, Asia
and parts of Europe. Besides this primary
meaning, Maori also use whanau with more than a dozen other meanings, which are
defined according to context. Ideally, it should not be used for the nuclear
family. Like 'family', whanau can be used metaphorically to
describe a group of non-kin gathered for a
common purpose, such as supporting an applicant in a job interview. Non-Maori
have been quick to pick up on this use of the word along with the practice.
In general, however, they have difficulty
following Maori when the latter shift seamlessly from one meaning of whanau to
another,
often within the space of one sentence - just as
we native speakers
of English do with 'family'. 9
Perhaps the most hard-done-by of all Maori words
is the tiny word
'utu'. It has been part of the New Zealand
English vocabulary
since before 1840 and in all that time it has
almost invariably
been given the meaning of 'revenge'. This
meaning is not only
reductive - it is misleading. 'Utu' was one of
the most important ordering principles in traditional Maori society, the
principle of reciprocity which decreed that every gift received must be
reciprocated by one of equivalent or preferably
greater value.
This applied to both good gifts - luxury
foodstuffs, cloaks,
greenstone - and bad gifts - thefts, insults,
injuries, homicide.
It is easy to see how the reciprocation of bad
gifts gave rise to
the meaning of revenge, but the reciprocation of
good gifts was and is even more
important in the Maori scheme of things. Gift giving was and is used to initiate and strengthen relationships
between two parties. Sometimes different kinds of gifts were exchanged –
luxury foodstuffs, including kumara, against fine cloaks, for example, -
sometimes the same taonga - a greenstone mere, perhaps, or a fine taiaha -
passed backwards and forwards between whanau in different iwi on occasions such
as weddings and tangihanga, tying the two groups together over successive
generations. In many rural areas Maori and Pakeha families of long-standing also
entered into on-going exchange relationships. On the other hand, Pakeha visiting
or leaving a district often accepted gifts from Maori with thanks for their
generosity without understanding the implicit obligation to make a return and so
missed the opportunity to forge a continuing relationship. Relations between our
ethnic groups would be vastly
improved by a true appreciation of the principle
and practice of
'utu'. 10
The word used to describe the 'tying together'
associated with 'utu'
is 'tuitui', a word meaning to tie or lash two
or more separate
things together with a taura, a rope or cord. Do
you remember the
1990 Sesquicentenary slogan 'Hui, hui, huihuia, tui, tui, tuituia'?
The translation given at the time was long and
flowery and
completely missed both the message and the avian
imagery. The
original is so admirably succinct it is almost
impossible to put
into English but the gist of it was a call to
all New Zealanders
come together in the bonds of peace'. It would
repay reviving. 11
New Zealand English is enriched by the inclusion
of Maori words,
but this inclusion will be counter-productive
unless we arrest the distortion of meaning that often results. As always, the
first step
is to recognise that there is a problem. The
second step is for all
who use them, especially journalists, teachers,
politicians and the drafters of new laws, to make a real effort to understand
Maori
words in their cultural context and to use them
appropriately.
The third step is for as many people as possible
to learn the Maori language. There are many reasons for learning Maori but to my
mind by far the most important is that it gives learners access to insightful
ways of thinking and acting and to a treasury of
stories, poems and proverbs which are grounded
in this land with
its unique flora and fauna and landscapes. 12
Giving special recognition to the Maori strand
in our national
taura whiri does not, as some fear, cut other
ethnic groups out of
the picture: on the contrary it establishes a
precedent and model
for respecting their right to nurture their own
culture, while encouraging them to contribute to the common areas of national
life. New Zealand English is beginning to take in words from the languages of
other groups settled here, mostly the names of foodstuffs and festivals and in
areas where they are concentrated. Like the adoption of Maori words, this is a
process that will happen in its own good time.
From discussion of the language of communication
it is but a short
step to the third of the areas of common life I
set out to explore,
the area of public ceremonial. By this I mean
the ceremonial
attached to such events as the visits of VIPs,
the openings of conferences, new buildings and public lectures, the presentation
of degrees and other awards, and the induction
of incumbents of
high positions, such as mayors and school
principals. Up until the 1960s our public ceremonial was almost entirely
monocultural and monolingual in English, except on Waitangi Day. From the 1970s
organised marae visits introduced increasing numbers of Pakeha to
marae protocol at firsthand, while Maori
successfully campaigned for a place in public ceremonial commensurate with their
status as
tangata whenua and signatories of the Treaty of
Waitangi. Now
elements of marae ceremonial are included on
public occasions as a matter of course, especially in the North Island.
This represents an important advance in the
development of
ceremonials that reflect our national make-up
and and reinforce
our national identity, but there are still some
problems to be
ironed out, in particular when proceedings are
opened with a fullscale powhiri or welcome ceremony.
In a marae setting, the powhiri has a clear
purpose, structure and tikanga or rules. 13
Its primary purpose is to bring two groups of people - hosts and visitors
- together, step by step, until
they
are sufficiently comfortable with each other to
break ranks,
mingle with each other and together undertake
the business of the
hui, whether it be discussion, celebrating a
marriage or mourning
the dead. The structure of the powhiri includes
an exchange of
speeches between hosts and visitors. On most
marae the tikanga
direct that speeches in the powhiri should be
delivered in the
Maori language by representative male kaumatua,
for reasons I won't go into here, and concentrate on conveying greetings,
explaining their group's identity, and establishing links between the groups.
When the powhiri is transferred out of the marae
setting into a
public one or conducted on a marae for a
non-Maori organisation,
it acquires an additional purpose, that of
making a symbolic
statement about the identity of the local,
regional or local
national and the part Maori play therein. It
also acquires a
different audience, one whose members in most
cases do not
understand or speak the Maori language. This
presents the
presiding kaumatua (both men and women) with a
dilemma. They feel that lapsing into English breaches the tapu of the powhiri,
but adhering to the Maori language rule means that most of those present do not
appreciate the speeches, miss out on the information they supply, and endure
instead of enjoying the ceremony.
That unfortunately widens the gap between hosts
and visitors instead of reducing it as the powhiri is meant to do. Often
kaumatua quietly disappear after they have fulfilled their ceremonial role, and
the proceedings introduced by the powhiri revert to monocultural Pakeha practice
for the rest of the time. In such cases, the powhiri is a clip-on instead of
being an integral part of the whole.
These problems can be solved if the parties
think about the
issues and talk about them together. The trick
is to work out a
compromise which enables Maori to fulfil the
requirements of tikanga and non-Maori to understand what is going on, so that
staging the powhiri as part of public ceremonial achieves both its old and its
new purposes.
Perhaps kaumatua reluctant to breach tapu by
lapsing into English
might look to earlier generations for guidance.
Back in the 1950s
and 60s, on the northern marae I know best,
kaumatua of the stature of Kingi Ihaka, Herepo Harawira, Mutu Kapa and Simon
Snowden gave high priority to ensuring that non-Maori visitors understood - and
appreciated - what was being said. Sometimes they sat besides the visitors and
whispered a translation into their ears, sometimes they provided a sentence by
sentence translation during the speeches, most often they summed up the gist of
their speeches in English at the end. Mind you, their translations were
sometimes more diplomatically phrased than the original statements, to the
amusement of the Maori speakers present! They were superb orators in both
languages. Imitating their example would result in greater not less appreciation
of the Maori language and ceremonial on the part of the general public.
It would also help to restore the art of translation to the high status
it once enjoyed.
There are occasions when nothing but a
full-scale powhiri is appropriate, occasions when a scaled down, bare-bones
version is
more suitable, and occasions when it is best to
develop ceremonies tailored to the needs of particular communities. In many
places,
much thought and effort are being put into
developing ceremonies
which provide for elements of a variety of
languages and cultures
to be interwoven with the Maori and English
strands. I like the
pattern developed by my old secondary school for
its senior prizegivings. Proceedings begin with a karanga and speech of
welcome in Maori delivered by senior Maori
students and complemented by a waiata from the school's kappa haka. After that
the speeches and presentations are broken into blocks by contributions from a
selection (varied annually) of the school's many culture groups, including the
choir with a culturally varied repertoire.
For planners of ceremonies in search of
inspiration, I suggest a
close look at the 'flower ceremony' which is a
feature of Northland Maori weddings. The largest tier of the wedding cake is cut
into
pieces decorated with an artifical flower or
favour from the cake - hence the name. A kaumatua calls the names of the iwi and
hapu
present, including Ngati Pakeha. As each name is
called, a representative claims flower and cake, explains his or her
connection with the group named and the bridal
couple, and
sings a song.
In 1973 I worked with Maori advisers to adapt this
ceremony for the opening session of a Pacific
women's conference.
When the President finished her speech of
welcome, she called the
names of the countries represented; the chief
delegate of each
came forward, was presented with a small bouquet
of flowers and
spoke to the assembly in her own language. This
ceremony got the
conference off to a good start by breaking the
ice and
introducing people to each other in an enjoyable
way. 14
When weaving elements of minority cultures into
public ceremonial in this way it is wise - and only good manners – to seek the
approval and advice of the people to whom they belong.
The sharing of ideas and customary ceremonial practices for use
in the public arena is one way of tying our
peoples together.
Northland iwi created the flower ceremony in the
19th century
when they adopted the wedding cake from British
settlers, along
with wedding ceremonial, and grafted it on to
the traditional way
of distributing gifts to visitors. They will
retain it for their
own purposes even if they share it with the rest
of us.
When members from different cultural backgrounds
encounter each other in this country of ours - for it is people not cultures who
meet - there is friction, inequality,
misunderstanding and
sometimes conflict, yes, but there is also
reciprocity, mutual stimulation and creativity, more than is commonly
recognised.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the field
of the arts, the
fourth and last of the areas of common life I
set out to explore
at the beginning of this lecture. In June last
year ten of New Zealand's leading artists were presented with inaugural Arts
Foundation Icon Awards.15
According to the Chairman of the Arts Foundation Trustees, "These
were New Zealanders who really made an impact on the arts, our senior artists
whose works have become part of our cultural heritage." Four of the ten are
heirs to two or more cultural traditions. Diggeress Te Kanawa represents those
who take the art forms of a minority to such heights of excellence that they
become national treasures. Ralph Hotere, Milan Mrkusich and Hone Tuwhare
represent those who weave ideas, materials and expressive forms from diverse
sources together in creative ways.
Where once these four artists belonged to a
small company of
pioneers, now a veritable host follow in their
wake. There is not
a field of the arts that has not been enriched
by their
contribution. In this, as in other ways, our
artists are far ahead
of the rest of us in capitalising on our
cultural diversity.
A complete roll call is impossible: as it is, I
must confine myself
to a few chosen examples to illustrate my
points.
First, representing those whose voices are now
stilled, I salute Arapera Kaa Blank, writer and poet, Harry Dansey, writer,
illustrator and cartoonist, Hirini Melbourne,
songwriter, guitarist
and expert on Maori music, and Dalvanius Prime,
whose electrifying production of Ngoi Pewhairangi's Poi E never ceases to thrill
me.
Of those whose work to develop their own
cultural tradition has
become a matter of national pride, I nominate
Hekenukumai Busby. He played a major part in reviving the art of waka building
and navigation, inspired and managed the waka fleet that enthralled us all at
Waitangi in 1990, and in double-hulled Te Aurere recreated his ancestors' epic
voyages across the Pacific.
Some artists belonging to one ethnic group have
chosen to express themselves artistically in the medium of another. This is
notably
the case in opera, where Joseph Le Malu and
Deborah Wai Kapohe are currently making their mark. Richard Nunns, a Pakeha,
worked with the late Hirini Melbourne to recreate the making of traditional
Maori musical instruments. The stone walls that
beautify my home
suburb in Auckland are the work of a company of
Tongan stonemasons, whose immigrant founder mastered the craft in New Zealand
years after it was brought here by British immigrants. 16
Some artists have acted as interpreters between
cultures. Margaret Orbell's magnificent translations and commentaries on Maori
stories and waiata open windows on the Maori world for those who do not know the
Maori language. Michael King's writing and television work in the 1970s helped
greatly to educate Pakeha about the strengths of contemporary Maori culture.
Pakeha poet Glenn Colquhoun celebrates both Maori and Pakeha ways of being and
the aroha that demolishes the barriers between them.
Many artists have woven elements of different
cultures together so skilfully that what they produce is a 'new work' that
belongs to and
is appreciated by the nation as a whole. Amelia
Batistich, Patricia Grace, Witi Ihimaera and Albert Wendt have been included in
the roll-call of acclaimed New Zealand writers for a quarter of a century.
Playwrights Briar Grace Smith, Hone Kouka, Robert Matisoo (of The Naked Samoans)
and Jacob Rajan (of Krishna's Dairy) have given us dramas grounded in their own
cultures which draw us in because they explore universal human themes. In the
visual arts the names of Cliff
Whiting, Maureen Lander, Michael Parekowhai and Shane Cotton have not only
national but international resonance. Taiaroa Royal, Neil Ieremaia and Black
Grace figure prominently in the world of New Zealand dance, and any list of New
Zealand songwriters would be incomplete without the names of Dean Hapeta, Che
Fu, King Kapisi and Mahinarangi Tocker, whose music celebrates both her Maori
and her Jewish heritages.
One of the most exciting developments of recent
years has been the creative encounter of groups from different traditions. I
remember with great pleasure the Wellington production Taki Toru which presented
Maori, Scots and Irish dancers in an integrated programme. Last year saw a
courtship, if not quite a marriage, between kapa haka Te Matarae I Orehu and the
Royal New Zealand Ballet in Ihi Frenzy.
The group Nesian Mystik is made up of four young
men from different parts of Polynesia whose transformation of imported music and
dance genres speaks to and for younger New Zealanders of varied ethnic
background. And then of course there is Whalerider, the product of
an exchange of gifts between a Pakeha director and film crew on the one
hand and a whole Maori community on the other.
The road to national recognition has been
anything but easy for
those I have named and those they represent. The
general public is
now becoming more appreciative of artists who
weave cultural
heritages together - as long as they do so in
English. Songwriters
who promote the language by composing in Maori,
as Hinewehi Mohi and Moana Maniapoto do so beautifully, have complained of the
difficulty of getting exposure in mainstream media in New Zealand. What I have
seen and heard on TV and radio recently leads me to hope that this situation too
is improving.
But I cannot help wondering why we have yet to
see a general
screening of that ultimate example of the
weaving together of
treasures from two cultures, Don Selwyn's film
of Pei Te Hurinui's translation into classical Maori of William Shakespeare's
A_Merchant of Venice. In a rave
review, critic Peter Calder wrote that Selwyn's 'highly triumphant', 'epic
rendering' is 'vibrantly alive
to the 'unmistakable resonances the play has for
a modern audience
here and abroad'. 17 Actor Waihoroi gave an
unforgettable and award winning performance as Hairoka (Shylock). Selwyn is
currently overseas showing the film to American student audiences. Surely ours
are mature enough to appreciate it?
To conclude, let me return to the metaphor of
the taura whiri.
Early in this lecture, I emphasised that
nation-building, like rope-making, involves skill, co-operation and continuous
hard work. As a nation we are at last beginning to recognise the enrichment and
strength that comes from weaving many diverse strands together.
But the task of creating a unique national
identity is an on-going one. We cannot afford to let it go by default.
At Waitangi on 6 February 1840, Colenso tells
us, Lieutenant
Governor Hobson said to each rangatira who
signed the Treaty: 'He iwi tahi tatou'. Presumably he was coached by somebody,
probably Henry Williams. Colenso translated this into English as 'We are now one
people'. In doing so, he overlooked three subtle points. First, the word 'iwi'
means 'nation' as well as 'people'.
Secondly, if Hobson meant 'one people' he should
have said 'he
iwi kotahi'; 'tahi' without the prefix 'ko'
means 'together'.
Thirdly, the last word, 'tatou', certainly means
the first person
plural, 'we/us', but it is a special form, one
without an
equivalent in English. Use of 'tatou' signals
the fact that the
'we' in question comprises two or more distinct
groups. This
short sentence in Maori packs in a lot of
meaning. A fuller
English translation would be: 'We two peoples
together make a
nation.' 'He iwi tahi tatou' still has
application in today's
world, but now we can give it a wider
interpretation: 'We many
peoples together make a nation.'
Kati ra, no reira, tena koutou, tena ra tatou
katoa.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I acknowledge with gratitude help received in
connection with this Lecture from Te Kohu Douglas and Mark Robertson Shaw of The
F.I.R.S.T. Foundation, from John Miller (for
photographs), and
from Shane Jones, Merimeri Penfold and Ian
Bassett for comments
on early drafts.
ENDNOTES
1. Wellington's Anniversary Day fell on 22
January in 1990. The
tall ships Anna Rosa and Anna Kristina
represented the immigrant
ships Auroa and Helena. The waka were Te
Aniwaniwa with 28
paddlers and Te Raukuara with 22. The waka were
built for the re-enactment at Waiwhetu Marae under the direction of master
carver Rangi Hetet.
2. 'The Rope of Peoples' was published on the
cover of the Annual
Report of the Historic Places Trust for 1990
3. For the 2001 Census the Department of
Statistics invited
respondents to identifying themselves as
belonging to up to three
'ethnic groups'. The Tables in the Ethnic Groups
volume of the
Census record the count of responses, not
persons. As a result,
the percentages given for the various ethnic
groups listed add
up to more than 100% and the numbers given for
each main ethnic
group include some persons also listed under
other headings. It
could be argued that the ethnic groups
identified by the Census
should more accurately be described as
categories as they are
based on individual declarations of ethnic group
membership and
should not be taken as evidence of collective
identity.
4. See also: Orsman, H.W. (ed.), The Dictionary
of New Zealand English, Auckland: Oxford University Press, 1997:
567-69, and
Metge, Joan, Te Kohao o Te Ngira: Culture and
Learning,
Wellington: Learning Media 1990:
5. This use of 'kai-hautu' for the Treaty is of
course metaphorical. Maori often use the word 'kai-hautu' metaphorically as a
title for
the director of a Maori organisation.
6. The fullest account is by CMS Missionary
printer William Colenso: The Authentic and Genuine History of the Signing of the
Treaty of Waitangi, Reprint published by Capper Press, Christchurch, in 1971.
Also available at http://www.waitangi.com/colenso/colhisl.html. See also Orange,
Claudia, The Treaty of Waitangi, Wellington: Allen & Unwin/ Port Nicholson
Press, 1987, especially Chapter 3, or Orange, Claudia, The Story of a Treaty,
Wellington: Allen and Unwin Press/ Port
Nicholson Press, 1989.
7. It was the Maori text of the Treaty that was
signed by the
Maori chiefs in most places round the country in
1840. An English text was signed at Waikato Heads and Manukau
8. the word 'kaumatua' has no in-built
indication of gender. In
the plural it includes both men and women. Some
tribes use the
singular form to refer to a male kaumatua and
pair it with
'kuia', an old/elderly woman and/or a woman in a
position of
group leadership. other tribes use 'kaumatua' as
the generic term
and 'koroua' for a male kaumatua.
9. See Metge, Joan, New Growth from Old: The Whanau in the Modern
World, Wellington: Victoria University Press, 1995, especially chapters 3
& 4: 51-78
10 See Metge, Joan, "Returning the Gift: Utu in Inter-group
Relations', Journal of the Polynesian Society, Volume 111, (4) 2002: 311-38
11. 'tuituia' is the passive form of the verb 'tuitui', used as an
imperative, Tuitui is the word used (for example) for lacing up shoes or for
lashing the topsales to the hull of the canoe
12. Other reasons for learning the Maori language? It iis the language of
the tangata whenua, the indigenous inhabitants: one does not have to go overseas
to find fluent speakers to talk to. Everyone who has done their O.E. remembers
drawing on memories of haka and action songs to establish their national
identity - and improvising wildly when memory failed. Maori and their language
deserve better. Maori is an excellent spring for the learning other Pacific
languages, including Asian languages, because the sounds, grammar and cultural
underpinnings of the Maori language are closer to them than those of Europe are.
13. See Metge, Joan, The Maoris of New Zealand: Rautahi, (Revised
Edition) London, Routledge and Keegan Paul 1976: 250-255
14 For a discussion of 'Appreciation Without Appropriation' see Metge,
Joan, New Growth from Old; The Whanau in the Modern World, 1995:309-12
15 New Zealand Herald, 26.6.03
16 Onehunga Stonemason Ltd, under the direction of Sione Katoa who
settled in New Zealand in 1987
17 New Zealand Herald, 19.2.02