Te Tiriti – yet again. Yes, this is important.

This post was going to be called “racism and privilege at law school”. But since it ended up going in this direction, I have renamed it. I would still like to write about racism and privilege more generally at some point – keep your eyes out, it’ll happen one day.

I wrote 90% of this post over a month ago, and then got busy and completely forgot about it. Here it is! With some very minor alterations. And yes before you ask, this blog was never intended to be entirely about racial issues, and it is not going to be either. It’s just my thing at the moment. The next post may be on veganism. If you’re lucky. So if you don’t like it, too bad, suck it up, deal with it, don’t read it. If you do, go for it. As always, feedback is appreciated.

Oh and sorry its so long. Conciseness is not my forte. My apologies! But it will be worth it if you make it to the end, promise.

Ok, here we go. Firstly, the two events that sparked this.

In my crimes lecture some months ago now, a guy sitting in front of me spent almost the entire class looking at racist memes on facebook. I’m not going to go into any detail; suffice to say they were incredibly offensive. A whole page dedicated to them. And he was laughing. I spent the whole lecture completely unable to concentrate. By the end of it my stomach was churning and my body shaking. I even cried on the way home. I just couldn’t understand how someone could find such overt racism so funny.

Then, on the second to last day of class, a guy in public law began his contribution to the class discussion by giving a mihi. Except it wasn’t a mihi, it was (apparently) a karakia which he’d learnt when he was a kid. And had no idea what it meant, or when it would be appropriate. It was pretty obvious that he was taking the piss. Even more so when the class burst into laughter and applause. I was about to start clapping too, just cos everyone else was and I didn’t think – until I suddenly clicked what had happened and how offensive it was. I sincerely hope that most of the class was just following the crowd, and did not actually condone the behaviour.

I have already addressed ideas of collective responsibility and historical injustice. These in themselves are very powerful reasons to stand up to racism. We as Pakeha must take responsibility. This is not a “Māori issue”. But its also about a basic level of respect which surely we must all have for other humans, regardless of race, class, gender, whatever. Regardless of injustice, oppression, privilege and everything else, surely we as human beings have some degree of respect for others. Surely we all have some gut feeling that its wrong to appropriate other languages and cultures to take the piss. Right? Apparently not.

So, I emailed the lecturer expressing my outrage, and got a rather unsatisfying response. He said that, in accordance with the views of his Māori colleagues, he had addressed the issue with the student directly; and it was inappropriate and unnecessary to raise it in class. I still think he missed the point slightly, that it wasn’t about the individual student (however shocking this behaviour may have been); it was about the culture of tolerating, accepting and perpetuating racist behaviour, whether consciously or not; which I find incredibly problematic. And I did emphasise that in my email.

I felt incredibly vulnerable having stuck my neck out like this, and immediately after, all I could think was “what the hell am I talking about, who am I to be challenging racism when I know nothing about this issue. Surely these “Māori colleagues”, whoever they are, understand the situation much better than I do. My reaction was ignorant and emotional, and my suggestion to raise it to the whole class was completely inappropriate and I just shouldn’t have said anything. Aaaargh.”

I have been mulling this over for the last two weeks [edit: now more like two months], almost non-stop. Paralysed by indecisiveness, lack of confidence and fear, I kept feeling the need to do something, but had no idea what would be the appropriate action to take. I had an absolutely incredible conversation yesterday [about 6 weeks ago now], with two Pakeha women who I have a lot of respect for, and who really clarified several important things.

One: this is not a “Māori issue”. One of the options I had been thinking about was talking to one of the Māori lecturers (who I really admire) to try to understand why this “low-key approach” of only talking to the individual was more appropriate. I realise now that this would have been a terrible idea. Te Tiriti is a partnership between two races. Racism is not the problem of those who are oppressed. It is a problem that belongs to those who are racist. It is incredibly unfair to keep pushing the burden onto those who are oppressed to constantly fight their own battles. We need to fight alongside them, to uphold our side of the bargain; and to not always rely on them to do it for us.

Two: this is not about this particular lecturer, or even the particular class. I already knew it was not about the student. But I had been far more frustrated at the lecturer than was fair. It is not about blame. I still think he possibly could have handled the situation better, and now I know that my email to him was justified, but this is not the point. The problem is far more deeply ingrained than that; it is about how Te Tiriti is approached in general; how racism is dealt with in general; and how we as Pakeha need to learn to acknowledge and understand our privilege. These are all very difficult issues, and it was maybe naïve of me to expect this lecturer to respond favourable to my request. But something needs to happen at a much more fundamental level.

Three: Te Tiriti, as a whole, is also not a “Māori issue”. I thought I knew this, but I realised that I didn’t understand it as well as I should. I found myself talking about the Treaty module as a whole and how crappy it was; but reiterated what I have said to several people: that this lecturer has never taught it before, was doing his best, and that the usual Māori lecturer is probably much better. They were shocked. Why should a Māori lecturer have to teach the Treaty? Why should a Pakeha not be held to the same standard, in terms of understanding the issues and being able to teach it well? In fact, it should be taught by a Pakeha, for the reasons above: the obligations to uphold Te Tiriti do not rest with Māori alone.

Four: not in this particular conversation, but on the same day, Catherine Delahunty was talking about how the principles of the Treaty are just a bunch of crap invented by lawyers. I was amused, slightly shocked, and kinda surprised. Having just spent 4 weeks in public law learning about how great the principles are because they reconcile the differences between the texts, I was really surprised that she would so quickly dismiss them. It was only on reflection, and talking to a friend of mine, that I realised why this was. Once again, I was shocked at my own failure to see the obvious.

It is worth recalling that neither the Treaty, nor Te Tiriti, has any legal force. The principles do, in some, limited situations. They are: partnership and reciprocity, active protection, and redress. These are breached constantly by the Government, although the courts do their best to uphold them when they can. Of course, Māori would be much better off if these principles were taken seriously by their Treaty partner. But after being told how fantastic the principles were, I had completely missed the elephant in the room: nowhere in the principles is there any mention of te tino rangatirantaga – or Māori sovereignty, which is guaranteed by article 2 of Te Tiriti.

This is highly problematic, deliberate, and not surprising at all.  Despite the judiciary sometimes being alightly awesome, and upholding the Treaty a hell of a lot better than the government does, it still works within a colonial framework, so it recognises, and refuses to challenge, Parliamentary supremacy. The principles, the Waitangi Tribunal, and the Treaty court cases have actually had the effect of squeezing the full force of Māori resistance into a narrow colonial paradigm, giving them no real power at all.

I don’t know how to resolve this. I think it is a huge problem, and needs addressing, urgently. Moana Jackson, who is brilliant, distinguishes between constitutional reform (tinkering round the edges) and constitutional transformation. Obviously transformation is what we need; whether most Pakeha are ready for that is highly unlikely, given then levels of racism and lack of understanding referred to above.

Anyway, I digress. Well, not really, this is all interrelated, of course. The Treaty’s place in the legal system obviously informs how it is taught at law school, which in turn informs the issues of racism and privilege that inspired this post. As someone else said to me the other day, it’s an outrage, really, that the Treaty is a four week section of the public law course; rather than being an integral, underlying theme of the entire course. This is a clear reflection, I think, of how it is seen by most of society: a side issue, which must be addressed in a tokenistic fashion in order to be “PC”; something of historical interest, sure, but not something which should be a living, breathing part of our constitutional framework which informs everything we do.

I don’t know how to conclude this. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this issue. The easy option, obviously, is to ignore it. But like most things which are easily ignored, the unfortunate reality is that this will not make it go away. The course is over, but like I said, the focus is not on the individual. It has been suggested to me that I talk to the course co-coordinator, to try to improve things for next year’s class. Maybe I will, but I have no idea what I would say.  Any thoughts you have would be greatly appreciated.

In the meantime, I will continue to mull.

Historical injustice and its perpetuation

This is an edited version of an essay I wrote for my PHIL class. It was great because it didn't need references, so could be much more ranty than my usual academic writing. To be clear, I think there is just as much an argument on the basis of the need to uphold Te Tiriti as there is on the basis that I have argued; but I had to refer to various readings, none of which were about NZ specifically, which is why the more general argument has been followed.

Do governments in countries such as New Zealand owe compensation or restitution to descendants of victims of injustice?  Why or why not?

The NZ crown does owe reparation to Māori iwi and hapu who have been systematically wronged in various ways since the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840. This is not because Māori today are the descendants of victims of injustice. This is because they, as a collective, are themselves victims of injustice: historical injustice, and present injustice. These do not exist independently of one another; they are inherently intwined in a complex web of colonialism and oppression which perpetuates to this day.

Injustice done to individuals is distinct to injustice to collectives. Historical injustice can be separated into three categories, in order to acknowledge this distinction. The first is victims of injustice themselves, even if years later, when the victims are still living. They can be directly compensated, which is unproblematic. The second is groups that collectively are victims. Maori and other indigenous groups clearly fit this category. The third is descendants of victims, as individuals. This category is more problematic, and raises plenty of complex questions. Fortunately, this does not need to be addressed in this context, as we are clearly dealing with a collective.

Pakeha as a nation are responsible to Māori as a nation for past wrongs and their continued perpetuation. Miller has a theory of why nations can be collectively responsible. The first step is to examine what constitutes a nation. There are five criteria, although these only need to be generally held, and not by all members. They are: people feel they belong together because of what they have in common; collective understandings about public culture; recognition of obligations to each other; continued existence of nation as a valuable good, and aspiration to be politically self-determining. The shared nationality is partially constitutive of the identity of each member of the nation.

Do Māori have a collective identity? Of course, until Pakeha came to New Zealand, Māori were comprised of distinct iwi and hapu, and there was no conception of “māoridom” as a whole. This only began to emerge in the late 19^th century, for example when the Kingitanga movement was established in the 1890s as a response to British collective identity. Since then, Māori collective identity has only strengthened, and while individual Māori obviously disagree on important issues, this is unproblematic by Miller’s definition. The above factors are, in general, met, and there is a conception of a Māori nation.

More complicated perhaps is the question of whether there is such thing as a Pakeha nation. If there is one, who does it include? All New Zealanders who are not Māori? Only those of European descent? What is it that makes one Pakeha? I think the term Pakeha must only apply to those of European descent, for two reasons. Firstly, that is the generally accepted use of the word, for better or worse. Secondly, “Pakeha” signifies racial privilege. It is unfortunate that this privilege exists, of course, but since it does, it is our duty to recognise it. If other marginalised races were to be included in this definition, we would risk ignoring white privilege.

This exclusive definition is of course problematic. It means that many New Zealanders are neither Māori nor Pakeha. There is no good reason why a white person who has recently immigrated should be able to represent the Pakeha nation; while a person of colour whose family has been here for generations should not be able to represent the Pakeha nation. The solution, at least for the purposes of this essay, could be to recall that nationality is only partially constitutive of identity – above all, we are all New Zealanders. And the Crown represents all New Zealanders, not just Pakeha. So while it is predominantly Pakeha who owe compensation, this needs to be done, in practice, by the Crown, which represents the people of NZ as a whole.

Assuming there is such thing as a Pakeha nation (notwithstanding my reservations above), what is it that makes us collectively responsible? In a New Zealand context, we are responsible because we are Tangata Tiriti – people of the Treaty. The Treaty of Waitangi is the only thing that gives the crown’s sovereignty any moral legitimacy, and Pakeha any right to be here. We must, therefore, uphold our end of the bargain; if we ignore the Treaty, we are illegitimate occupiers of a land which is not our own. But there is also another argument that can be more widely applied, using Miller’s “cooperative practice” model. This is the theory that we are responsible as a nation, because we have benefitted, and continue to benefit, from wrongs done to Māori in the past and the present.

It is fairly uncontentious that the system of individual ownership imposed on Māori was mostly for the purposes of facilitating the dispossession of Māori from their land, and the cheap sale of it to settlers. Countless legal and illegal methods were used for this, and their detail does not need to be explored. It is now generally agreed that this was morally wrong, and great harm was suffered. This was, of course, not merely economic – a whole new cultural and legal system was imposed, undermining te tino rangatiratanga, mana, and kaitiakitanga. The Pakeha nation benefitted – this is what allowed settlers to come here, buy cheap land, and start a new life. 

To extend Miller’s argument to cover historic injustice, although he shies away from it himself, is not difficult. I think it can be done simply by giving the cooperative practice model a temporal dimension. We continue to benefit from past wrongs. We have exploited the illegally and/or immorally acquired land for its natural resources which provide the foundation of our economy. We have built towns and cities, a national culture, an identity, a livelihood, which we, as Pakeha, all benefit from. We benefit also from being racially dominant, the norm, the bearers of racial privilege, which serves our interests so much we can easily become unaware of it.

Waldron writes that history is not part of individual identity, but communal identity, and that if we forget about history, we can be lead to believe that our good or bad fortune is a virtue of our race. He acknowledges that injustice tends to not be a discrete event but a systemic pattern, which continues to exist until it is remedied. He writes that it is difficult to know who to give land back to, especially when the wrong happened a long time in the past; but, he also says, this is remedied significantly when the wrong is to a group rather than an individual, as is the case in NZ.

There is a widespread belief that claims to entitlement fade with time, and this is certainly a common perception in NZ. But Waldron correctly identifies that this does not necessarily apply when the dispossessed is a community, rather than an individual, because cultural traditions (which are inherently tied to land in Māori culture) are more resilient that property rights. This is why it is important to conceptualise Māori claims to justice as collective rather than individual.

Waldron writes that claims about historical injustice may be superseded by claims based on present injustice. This comes with the massive caveat, however, that this only applies if an honest attempt is being made to arrange things justly. It is also important to recognise that in many cases, as in NZ, victims of historic injustice are also victims of present injustice. Present-day claims will only override historic ones when they are at odds: when the historically wronged group is now better off than those who were the oppressors. This will rarely be the case; and it is certainly not in NZ.

It is essential to understand the link between past and present, between colonisation and neo-colonisation, between overt racism and its much subtler present day counterpart. Few would deny that Māori are far over-represented in all the statistics. Yet many would argue that this has little to do with historical wrongs, and more to do with “bad luck”. This ignores the obvious – that when a nation is deprived of its land, its culture, its mana, its sovereignty, its language, its customs, and its tikanga, for generations on end, even when overtly discriminatory policies are stopped, the effects of this will not magically go away.

The present does not, and cannot, exist in some kind of vacuum, devoid of links to the past. To believe it does it a convenient myth, certainly, but not a helpful one if we are serious about justice. Present injustices must be remedied, certainly, but so must past injustices; and it is crucial to understand the relationship between them. The record so far has been very mixed, with some successes, and some massive setbacks. There is certainly room for improvement. We need to approach the issue with an open mind, a sense of responsibility, and a genuine desire for justice. Only then will we be able to seriously address the past wrongs done to Māori, in order to bring about a present which is just and fair for all.

Thoughts on Te Tiriti

So its been a while, yes, but I am determined to write on here more regularly, throwing out there whatever ideas are in my mind, without being my usual perfectionist self and spending days on each post. (so, apologies in advance for all the errors, inconsistencies and mistakes!)

Here’s my thoughts for today. By interesting coincidence, we’ve been doing historical injustice in my philosophy class (Ethics and International Affairs) this week, and also started on our 4 weeks of Treaty of Waitangi in Public Law. A good combination, for sure, and plenty of food for thought.

Monday

Claudia Orange came to talk to our public law class. I was super excited – remembering her from year 13 history as the treaty historian, I was sure she would have plenty to say and an interesting perspective. Sadly not – she was ok – but I found she really lacked passion. Her speaking style seemed to be kinda “facts, facts, facts, blah, blah, blah” which didn’t convey anything much, and certainly not any sense of overwhelming injustice, unfairness or loss. I doubt anyone really got much from her speech, apart from lots of names, dates and facts. And really, who is going to remember those?

I’m not sure if her detachment and lack of emotion really reflected her point of view, or if it was just her speaking style. Given that she was (I think) the first person to write a comprehensive history of the Treaty, it seems sad that it has lost its spark for her. Or maybe it never had one, and was just something to study and not something to actually care about. I don’t know. Maybe I am being a bit too harsh – I will have to do some more research into her work.

I couldn’t help comparing her with Catherine Delahunty, whose perspective on the Treaty I remember vividly from Young Greens camp. Basically, as I understand it, “either we [as pakeha] are here by Treaty or by conquest” and if we’d rather not be here by conquest, then we’d better honour the treaty. I really admire her as one of the few pakeha who actually stands up for really honouring the Treaty, someone who really lives her values and fights for them. We have a lot to learn from people like Catherine. (a good starting point is this amazing post. read it!)

Tuesday and Wednesday

Watched Operation 8 in philosophy class. I was the only one who had seen it! Really glad to see it again, and stoked that a bunch of people were watching it who otherwise wouldn’t. And people even turned up. Excellent.

Thursday

My essay was due. “Can terrorism ever be morally justified? Why or why not?” Basically I ended up arguing that yes, terrorism can be morally justified, in the same way that war can be (although, of course, I think generally war isn’t justified. But the point is it can be, and so can terrorism, and in the words of one of the papers I cited, “no self-serving revulsion against terrorism can change this”).

I also argued that terrorism as a concept is misused and abused for political purposes rather than serving as an objective analytical concept. I didn’t go quite as far as saying it is entirely a social construct, because I think there can  be and objective definition; however the fact is that terrorism is simply not used in this objective way. I talked about the contradictions of using “terrorist” to label the Palestinians but not the Israelis, and how the rhetoric of terrorism can actually increase conflict. Then (yes I am going somewhere with this) I talked about the dangers of using the rhetoric of terrorism to vilify the acts of those who aren’t actually terrorists at all, using the example (yep you guessed it) of Operation 8.

Basically I said that the rhetoric of terror is used to justify pre-existing agendas and deflect attention away from unpopular policies; as well as to isolate and undermine political opponents. This is exactly what happened in the 2007 raids.

Friday

Discussion of Operation 8 in class. Lecturer asks “why is it that they locked down Ruatoki and not Abel Smith St?” Peoples responses were basically that it would be “impractical” to do that in a city. Yeah right. Only impractical in terms of the huge political consequences of unleashing the armed defenders squad against “innocent” Pakeha.

What should we do about historical injustice? Someone in my class actually said that it was irrelevant, because the social issues and inequalities we have today have nothing to do with historic injustices. I was flabbergasted. Seriously. How can one truly believe that you can steal a people’s land, impose a different culture, legal system and language, and then expect they’ll carry along just fine, and then a hundred years later they just happen to be over-represented in all the statistics just cos? Cos the present exists in a vacuum? Yeah right. Yay for being a history student and actually realising that of course, the past influences the future. How could it not?!

At least they was lots of debate in class, hopefully got people thinking at least a little bit! I can only hope.

Law was average. Learnt the other day that the person who usually teaches the Treaty section is Maori, and while I hate to generalise, I can’t help but get the feeling they would have provided a slightly more critical view than the one we’re getting from a privileged white male.

I have been thinking about what makes a good lecturer. The one we had for Bill of Rights was great – opinionated about everything, and more than willing to share that opinion, but also for it to be challenged and questioned. I think that’s fundamental, especially in public law, where “context is everything” (ie, its really, at it heart, much more about politics than law, and most outcomes are based on gut feeling). Learning about something in this bland, dispassionate way is just not exciting, and not really that helpful. But it might get better; its only been 2 lectures.

At least we are talking about the Treaty at all, even if it is only in a slightly tokenistic way. It is a starting point, the first stepping stone on a long and complicated journey towards understanding and recompense. Of course, I don’t pretend to be knowledgeable on this topic at all – I don’t have any answers, and I’m not even sure I know what the questions are. But the only way we will get anywhere is by engaging in dialogue, and I am grateful for the opportunity to do so.

Bikes are awesome.

I got a new bike the other day. Wooo! And just now I remembered I had a half-written post about bikes from a few weeks ago. Here ‘tis, with some alterations.

Biking is amazing. My bike got stolen recently, which has given me a heightened appreciation for how awesome biking is. So I thought I’d write about it.

Biking is transport. Biking is exercise. Biking is faster than walking and way less hassle than driving. And also faster than bussing, a lot of the time; depending where you’re going.

Biking is freedom. When I got a paper run at age 11 I could do it much faster on a bike than walking. The measly $3 an hour I got for it allowed me to buy stuff. While I truly believe that money is immaterial to happiness, when you’re 11 and you can save up for an ipod to replace your antiquated discman, money is a form of happiness.

When I was 13 I started biking to school, Nayland College, which was half an hour away. Again, this was freedom. Freedom to not catch the bus, which I hated. It was hot and crowded, and arrived at school way too early. Freedom to go to my friend’s house after school, and bike home at my leisure rather than be constrained by bus timetables or have to ask for a ride. Biking was my first taste of independence.

Of course when I got my licence at 17 and realised I could drive to school, leaving home at about 8.45, coffee in hand, biking quickly took a back seat, so to speak, especially in winter. I was a rather lazy teenager at that point, especially in year 13.

But now there is no way I would want a car. As well as all the perfectly reasoned environmental reasons, they’re just bloody expensive and a huge hassle. Plus while driving on the open road is fun, driving in cities is stressful and slow. Blergh.

When I got my bike again at the end of last year, it once again represented freedom. I could go to all these places without the slowness of walking, or the hassle of bussing. Best of all, it was efficient. Being at 2 campuses would be a huge pain if I had to walk between them, and to be honest I doesn’t know how everyone else copes. But on my bike I can get from Kelburn to Pipitea in 5 minutes flat, and back up again in not much more than 10.

Plus, biking home at night is amazing, cos not only is it faster and warmer, it also feels a lot safer, because it would be really hard for someone on foot to attack me.

When my bike got stolen, the emotional trauma was threefold. Firstly, I really like to feel safe, and to have my sense of trust in humanity broken made me quite scared and paranoid. And really profoundly sad that there are people out there who would resort to such things.

Secondly, my main form of transport was gone, and walking everywhere is a bloody pain. The next day I had to walk to Parliament and then up to Kelburn, so I spent a total of about 2 hours walking around. Seemed like such a huge waste of time!

Thirdly, I have had my bike since I was 12, so my emotional attachment to it is huge. Apart from my laptop (which I’m now way more scared about getting stolen than I was before), and my pounamu, it was probably my most prized possession, and it was almost a part of me. Having that suddenly gone really really sucked.

Some amazing friends of mine leant me an old bike of theirs, which is great. Their generosity was really overwhelming actually, as was the sympathy expressed by everyone I told.  I’ve been using it for about a month, while looking for a new one. And it was great, in terms of getting me around, and I’m so incredibly grateful to the beautiful friends who lent it to me.

The first thing I did, before even looking for a new bike, was to get a decent lock. I spent $80 on a really awesome one – it’s 6 metal links that would be very, very, difficult to break. A big investment, but at least no-one will even bother trying to break it (I hope!), given how many nice bikes have such crappy locks. Not that I’m saying that anyone should steal other people’s bikes, cos that’s still a really shitty thing to do.

Last week I finally found a nice bike on trademe. It took ages – I’d been looking at another one, but the people never got back to me about going to see it. And all the others were in like Porirua or Lower Hutt, which are a pain to get to. So I was stoked to see one in Thorndon! I went to see it on Tuesday, and bought it later that night.

It’s really awesome cos it’s newish and has barely been ridden. Very comfortable, and of course everything works like a dream – especially the breaks and the gears which is a nice change.

The best thing about it was that the lovely guy I bought it off gave me a high-vis vest, so my parents can no longer nag me about that. It also came with a very good quality front light, so I feel a lot safer at night. And mudguards, so no more wet muddy face! (one day last week I got to uni with mud all over my face and didn’t notice for like 2 hours, after I’d already run into several people – rather embarrassing!!!)

This is what I wrote a few weeks ago:

“Sometimes I believe that everything happens for a reason, and sometimes I don’t. I’m still figuring out what I think about this. On the one hand it has made me appreciate what I do have, and forced me to be more careful about security. On the other, it’s just a pain. An expensive pain too. While some would be happy at the opportunity to get a new bike, for me its just a hassle and something I’d rather not have to do. But that’s just life I guess.”

But now I’m feeling so much more optimistic. I have accepted that my old bike was starting to show its age, and have relished the opportunity to buy a new one, which I will care for and maintain properly. I’m really excited to start going on long bike rides with my flatmates. I had a wonderful time biking in the sunshine yesterday. It was great. Such a sense of freedom and adventure!

A thought to leave you with, which has been stuck in my head rather a lot lately!