On immigration in NZ and tikanga Māori

By Carrie Stoddart-Smith

What we do at home with immigration policy matters in the international community. It speaks to the authenticity of our story as an inclusive, progressive and whānau centred country. It affects the credibility of our social, political, cultural and economic relationships. Yet, there are no signs of cooling the debate this election year as tensions rise over decades of inadequate policy settings which now pit immigrants against the ‘ordinary’ New Zealander. Dog. Whistle.

Who is an immigrant?

Some people consider all people living in Aotearoa New Zealand (including Māori) to be immigrants. Māori are the indigenous people of this land. Fact. Some people whose Pākehā ancestors settled in colonial times also consider themselves now indigenous. Fiction. And there is also always a gap in the dialogue – ignoring how we classify people of Asian ancestries as immigrants – whether they arrived in settler times or more recently, while those of European ancestries are viewed as New Zealander, Kiwi or even Pākehā. In effect, we give preference to white immigrant populations and demonise the non-white. We ignore their existence, unless there is a political point to be scored.

In my view, there are probably three primary reasons for this narrative capture:
• The prominent role of biculturalism in our political discourse, and the fear from some Māori of multiculturalism displacing the rights and interests of Māori,
• Almost two centuries of Māori/Pākehā interracial marriage and interracial children where we are more likely to have adopted western values, and
• Racism (Pākehā) and internalised racism (Māori)

For me, being both Māori and Pākehā, I am both indigenous and immigrant. And the tension is inescapable in a million different contexts.

Framing Māori as an immigrant

For Māori, to be labelled an immigrant, is to displace our indigeneity and to question the legitimacy of our claim to this place and our connection to the whenua and all its resources that our tupuna established over hundreds of generations before the European Settlers arrived.

Framing Pākehā as an immigrant

For Pākehā, being labelled an immigrant questions the legitimacy of our legal and political institutions imposed on the indigenous people already settled on this land. It brings the residual guilt of our ancestors to the surface. A feeling that we have happily allowed our political and social institutions to actively suppress to avoid taking ownership of the injustices committed against Māori and the intergenerational effects of those injustices.

Framing people of Asian descent as “the” immigrants

As alluded to above, for both Māori and Pākehā we sidestep the racism in our views on immigration. Offering up reasons to ban or restrict immigration, as if the root cause of our social and economic anxiety isn’t connected to some deeper systemic flaw. We allow our politicians to propagate stories of the immigrant as a non-white undesirable – where to be an immigrant in New Zealand in 2017, is to be Asian. In doing so, we are complicit in the embedding of their hidden xenophobic truth.

Summary of some of the research

Economic

Earlier this year, the New Zealand Initiative wrote a report on immigration. In it, they found that Māori have particularly negative attitudes towards new immigration compared with non-Māori.

(Disclaimer: I was invited to attend a seminar on the draft of that paper, and to submit any comments I might have on the kaupapa).

In providing feedback, I posited that employment, housing, natural resources, and ethnic displacement and Te Tiriti o Waitangi provided the context that shaped a contemporary Māori view on immigration. I suggested that our individual experiences of other cultures in a domestic and international context would shape how we view immigration. For example, I noted that Māori in business or who are economically secure through existing international relationships or those who have experienced positive cultural exchanges will inevitably see immigration in a more favourable light. While those who feel threatened by workforce displacement, homelessness, resource exploitation or diminished rights and status would be less favourable.

I drew on examples to demonstrate the frustration of Māori – where correlation is unfortunately treated as causation. For example, where headlines on ‘foreign ownership of homes’ appear alongside ‘more whānau experiencing homelessness’. Where we are still fighting for rights over freshwater, while foreign companies can access, and sell it overseas. Where we have lost almost 95 percent of our land (most of it stolen) to European settlers, while we continue to sell productive farmlands to overseas interests. Where we see workers brought in from overseas to meet labour demands, while our unemployment rate remains at almost twice the national unemployment rate. Yet, in all these examples, the issue is not immigration – it is policy and it is politics.

Political

In 2014, I also wrote a research paper where I explored the validity of the ‘right to exclude’ immigrants. This supposed right is linked to territorial rights established through the imposition of borders i.e. the nation state. I found the only potentially justifiable reason for immigration restrictions to be resource scarcity. In the contemporary New Zealand context (as noted above) that would be jobs, houses, natural resource depletion, pollution or exploitation. I concluded that there is no right to exclude immigrants in the formal sense of what constitutes a ‘right’ but that restrictions related to resource scarcity could provide a case for establishing a system of responsive rights.

I likened a responsive rights system to tikanga Māori, in particular a rāhui, which is a temporary ban to enable local resources to replenish. However, I argued that even in this sense, there was no right to exclude only immigrants – a ban would need to apply to all returning members of that community also. So the right to exclude on the basis of resource scarcity would only be justifiable if it was an indiscriminate responsive right.

A problem with my line of thinking is that from a political – and even a cultural sense, this argument would evoke a visceral reaction from community members excluded from their tūrangawaewae. I concluded that there can be no right to exclude new members from a community as that right is discriminate. This is effectively an argument for open borders.

Cultural

When I consider immigration to Aotearoa from my indigenous perspective, I think about the extent to which our tupuna supported the arrival of early settlers, going so far as to enter into a Treaty that would govern the relationship. Where we shared in cultural exchange – in some cases, adopting new customs and value systems that we were able to reconcile with our traditional values. I think about our core value of aroha and our obligations to manaaki our manuhiri. I think about kaitiaki of our resources to ensure we can fulfil all our tikanga tuku iho.

Another notable and valid concern, as Tahu Kukutai has written is that of ethnic displacement where some Māori fear “the prospect of Asians displacing Māori as the country’s ethnic “majority minority” and that the perceived preference of migrants for multiculturalism over biculturalism will diminish Māori rights and the status of the Treaty of Waitangi”.

Māori concerns with immigration can be allayed with robust policy developed and implemented through strong Māori political leadership. Policy that does not involve bans and restrictions on immigrants, instead policy that ensures the government upholds its end of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Housing policy that makes homeownership more accessible for all, fit for occupation rentals at fair prices, and culturally relevant solutions for homelessness. Innovative solutions to education and training speaking to the aspirations of our people, policy to support social and economic mobility and pastoral care for those adjusting to a highly dynamic society with new needs. These are where the fixes are needed. We also need our iwi and those of us engaged with international audiences to speak truth to the value of strong international relationships – emphasising the importance of whanaungatanga in these settings.

Conclusion

Restricting immigration does little to change attitudes, and will not resolve institutional failures afflicting Māori. We are a people who place people as the most important thing in this world. Our future then depends on the authenticity of the relationships that we can build and the integrity we show both at home and abroad. Rather than shutting manuhiri out – a practice that sits in opposition to our tikanga, we must remain committed to fulfilling all our obligations to ensure we position our relationships right for the mutual benefit of all of our uri and the uri of those who arrived here as manuhiri.

Gloves off election looming

presentation1By Ellipsister

In a stroke of strategic positioning, we may be witnessing the birth of a National/NZ First/ACT coalition after 2017 election. NZ politics just got interesting. In a weeks’ time, NZ will have a new PM.  And while we puzzle on who that might be, we could also consider how  a change in National Party leadership might shake things up (or down) for the micro-parties – ACT, United Future, Māori Party (and Mana Movement). Time to take the gloves off or NZ First might pinch them (the gloves, that is).

National Party and NZ First

The National Party should be a little nervous that NZ First have not slipped below the 5% threshold in any of the polls since the 2014 General Election. They are up and down, but oscillating between the 7-11% range.  The beef between Key and Peters is, well, seemingly irreconcilable. Erasing Key from the equation, positions National better to negotiate with Peters should he become kingmaker next year. This is not a suggestion Key was ousted by the party. In fact, I highly doubt that. Rather, next year is going to be rough and if last election is anything to go by, the gloves don’t just come off, the inner hulk busts out. National will not want their star player embroiled in a media maul and having to grovel for Peters hand in government, if it came to it.

A National/NZ First coalition, would  give National a clear majority, and the thing any party wants – fewer policy concessions. That is not to say there won’t be trade-offs. Peters is no snowflake. He will use his hand to get (or revoke) as many policies as possible in his play for power. Arguably, that’s where they’ve got him though – he can sit centre right with not everything he wants but a Cabinet position, or sit centre-left at an impasse with the Labour Party who will be torn between Greens and NZ First, likely needing both to govern.

So what then of the current governing coalition?

National would never swallow any kind of merger, alliance, collaboration between the Māori Party and Mana. National have often stated the Māori Party were a ‘stable’ partner and have denounced Hone Harawira. So add him into the mix, and the dynamics change. national will certainly be weighing up all their coalition options for the most palatable outcome. Part of me wonders if the National Party machine are also still reeling at the Māori Party dogging Helen Clarke’s bid for UN Sec Gen.

So what then of the Māori Party in this scenario? If NZ First are in, then the Māori party are out of the coalition. Peters has made it clear he despises the Māori Party. Potentially more so than he despises the Greens. That means the Māori Party may possibly find themselves back to the cross-benches after next election. Unless, they take back the Māori seats and then some. The cross-benches would not necessarily be a bad thing either. It would give the party time to reignite their support base and to rebuild after being branded by opposition parties as the National Māori Party. A brand they are having difficulty shaking.

Peter Dunne might be gone altogether, if Labour and Greens can coordinate the strategic vote to take his seat for the left. (Of course, that is the case with or without a change in National leadership)

ACT could potentially benefit

Interestingly, ACT could potentially benefit from a change in National Party leadership. If David Seymour holds his Epsom seat and is able to draw in right wing voters with a bruised confidence, increasing the ACT vote even marginally to get just one more seat, we might just see the strongest right wing block under MMP with National/ACT/NZ First in the driving seat.

Early election?

National’s positioning might also signal an early election, the shorter time to showcase the new leader, the less holes to pick in their capability to deliver on promises. It could be another two month post-election cliff hanger, unless the Māori Party can regain the confidence of Māori voters, secure the Māori seats and raise the party vote.  The voting scenarios will become clearer in the next few months, but voters will likely need to weigh up more seriously now the most probable scenarios: Labour/Greens/NZ First or National/NZ First/ACT. It’s basically 1996 again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unseating Labour

By Ellipsister (Co-ed.)

If you had asked me last week whether the Māori Party could unseat the Labour Party in the Hauraki-Waikato electorate at the next general election in 2017, I’d have given a simple “No”. However, the election of Tukoroirangi Morgan as the new President of the Māori Party brings with it the potential for a new alliance with the Kiingitanga and the capacity to unseat Labour.

Although reported to be apolitical, there are certain advantages a political alliance could offer the Kiingitanga given politics is our primary vehicle for influencing policy that affects our people at the central government level.

There is no question that Nanaia Mahuta has served her constituents and her Kiingitanga whānau respectably as the Hauraki-Waikato electorate MP for the Labour Party. However, the contest will not be between the candidates who stand in the seats. The real contest will be behind closed doors, between Labour and the Māori Party. The outcome dependent on which of them can secure the support and influence of King Tuheitia.

It presents an awkward scenario for Labour given at the last reshuffle, Labour dropped Nanaia down the party list, despite her fierce leadership in securing 6 of the 7 Māori seats for the Labour Party and the loyalty the Kiingitanga have implicitly shown Labour in re-electing Nanaia for almost 20 years. In contrast, the Māori Party whose new President is also the trusted ear of the King will push hard for that support. If the Māori Party are successful, this could mean a seat that has resided with Labour for almost 20 years, could now hang in the balance. In TV terms, it is quite the game of thrones, of sorts.

We must unlearn division

By Ellipsister (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Rehia, Ngāti Tautahi)

untitled-presentation_block_1I recently watched “Requiem for the American Dream” a documentary with Noam Chomsky comprising a tantalising one and half hours of brain food. In this documentary, Chomsky unpacks what he calls the Ten Principles of Concentration of Wealth and Power. During my screening, I began thinking about those principles in terms of Māori politics. There are so many threads that we could weave together and perhaps if I get the time over the next few months, I will look at each of the principles in the Māori context.

Chomsky’s main premise is that: concentration of wealth yields concentration of power. I draw from his premise and the principles in the picture above that kōtahitanga resides in our willingness and ability as tangata Māori to recognise and resist the colonising practice of division that keeps oppressive structures in power in Aotearoa.

I’m not claiming to have developed some breakthrough proposition. I am restating what we know but with intentionality – to remind us that the vast majority of us actively participate in reinforcing division among ourselves and we need to unlearn this behaviour so that we can drive our struggle forward.

We must come to terms with the fact that kōtahitanga can simultaneously accommodate difference and challenge power. We might not get the results we want immediately or even in our life times, but power fears mass opposition and the time to resist is always now.

Recall the whakapapa of our struggle that culminated in the Māori renaissance of the 1970’s and 1980’s. It reminds us that even the smallest acts of persistent resistance can build into a mass action for change and force power to confront its ugly structure. Kaua e mate wheke mate ururoa!

 

Preserving the mana of the tino rangatiratanga flag

By Ellipsister

tino-rangatiratanga-flag

Throughout the flag debate, I saw many Pākehā calling for the Tino Rangatiratanga flag to be an option as the national flag. Some said it was a beautiful design – which it is, but that is not a good reason to appropriate it as a national symbol without proper consideration of what this flag symbolises for Māori: resistance and resilience of tangata whenua in our struggle for, you guessed it “tino rangatiratanga. Others claimed that tino rangatiratanga represented them more than the Union Jack. And actually, that sat incredibly uncomfortably with me. I mean, Yes! please do raise our tino flag in solidarity. But your misplaced affection in appropriating our struggle and claiming it represents you is offensive and invalidating. Your lands and resources  were not forcibly taken, your culture and rights were not systematically oppressed, and you do not therefore experience the intergenerational trauma of colonisation.

For me, until tino rangatiratanga is actually achieved by Māori and formally recognised by the State, then I would never put my support behind the tino flag becoming New Zealand’s national flag. The reason should be obvious. However, to avoid any confusion – we cannot have tino rangatiratanga as a symbol of our nationhood if it is not a Māori reality. It is simply a way of feeding into the myth of partnership – the idea that Māori and the Crown have an equal share of power to make decisions that affect the peoples who are of this land – tangata whenua, and those who have settled on it – tau iwi.

I feel that if the tino flag is offered up as a national flag prematurely then it will diminish the mana of the flag and all its symbolism and deprive it of its meaning. On the other hand, if there were a policy for dual recognition of the tino flag as having equal status with the national flag, then this would perhaps enhance the mana of this flag and its symbolism as the forward-looking next step in addressing the issue of Māori sovereignty.

For the record, I didn’t vote in the flag referendum. I was ambivalent – I wasn’t prepared to vote for the dag we were offered, or the symbol of colonisation. That’s just my view. I appreciate others look at the Union Jack differently. But I felt that we should have been having a discussion about dual flags instead. I wrote about my views early on in the debate, asserting my preference for dual flags and my reasons for it. You can read that post here.

I am not offering up any new perspective either. Māori groups have been calling for dual flags and ascribing equal status to the tino rangatiratanga flag since achieving recognition as the national Māori flag in 2009 following a nationwide consultation process. I am simply attempting to advance this kaupapa alongside those who have long been championing this change and in support of those who have also been calling for this since the flag referendum began.

It’s important to note here that some Māori do not recognise the tino flag as the national Māori flag. Instead preferring the United Tribes flag (the first official flag of New Zealand) or their own independent hapū/iwi flag. So we need to discuss as independent hapū/iwi and urban roopu whether we can unite ‘under the korowai of kōtahitanga’ (as Hon. Te Ururoa Flavell calls it) to take our struggle to the next level and place Māori sovereignty at the forefront of this country’s political discourse. Additionally, whether we can agree to do this under this symbol of tino rangatiratanga.

As a sidenote, I am mindful of how our values as Māori are shared and also distinct, adaptable and variable. How we prioritise which values will direct our dialogues are deeply personal. We form them, and they are shaped through what we bring to the discussion as individuals and through our place in our different collectives. In my observation, many of our disagreements fuse around our competing tikanga priorities and the resulting tensions expose what appear to be disagreements about what these values mean, or how we interpret them in a contemporary context.

I imagine it was no easy feat for those who negotiated and lobbied to get the tino flag recognised by the government as an important step in acknowledging the partnership that was intended as forming out of Te Tiriti o Waitangi and credit must be given to those who led that effort. However, the time is ripe for a more ambitious attempt to achieve equal status of our flag, moving from symbolic to constitutional recognition and preserving the mana of this flag as we ramp up our drive for mana motuhake and forge our path to reassert tino rangatiratanga.

 

 

 

 

Recounting why I left school

By Ellipsister, Co-Editor

Aaron Smale at Mana Magazine wrote a conversation starting article on the PPTA and what he argues is its failure to date to lift achievement of Māori students. As a Māori school leaver, I sympathise with his argument.

I left school exactly the day I turned 16 and was therefore legally allowed to drop out. My Dad was livid and I could tell he was also deeply disappointed. I enrolled in a couple of tech courses in art and design. Turns out, I wasn’t particularly talented – nor committed. My attendance rate was appalling. Eventually I completed a hairdressing course (and worked as a hairdresser for a few years). It seemed the thing to do – and I was obsessed with creating my own identity.

On reflection that speaks to the struggle I endured throughout my life – was I Māori or Pākehā (Mum is Māori, Dad is Pākehā)? For years I refused to identify as Māori because of all the negative stereotypes that were thrust on me. And also my schooling experience taught me it was better to identify with my Pākehā heritage, than with my Māori heritage. Although, that was a tight rope to walk given I was so obviously brown. It has taken me my entire adult life to disentangle those colonising notions.

Why did I leave school?

When I was 11, I had wanted to be a Lawyer or a Cardiac Surgeon. I was a pretty good student and believed that I could do it. Before you think I had a sweet as home environment – I didn’t. I’m not going to divulge details. Those dreams of becoming a Lawyer or Surgeon were my escape from the poverty trap. I also had supportive teachers that invested time in my learning.

Life changed just as I started High School. I had stability at home for the first time in a long time – but sadly that came with some drawbacks, that one day I may open up about here, but not yet.

I struggled in my first year – I did ok, but not great. I remember feeling like a massive failure. The next year my grades got progressively worse and I started acting out and got into trouble a few times. By the time I got to School C, I was completely lost. I couldn’t actually comprehend what was being asked of me. I didn’t understand how to think. I didn’t dare ask for help, for fear of being told I was dumb – and actually, I’d never been taught how to ask for help. During my time at High School not once did any of my teachers take me aside to see how I was doing and if I needed help with any of my work. I was simply ignored. I wasn’t one of those boisterous students. I was a nobody with nothing constructive or insightful to offer. I was mediocre and lost sight of all my aspirations. A piece of paper with a few letter grades, and a brief comment about me being ‘a quiet student’ was the extent of their feedback. As if somehow I wasn’t self-aware of my quietness. It is in fact, crippling shyness – a trait that I struggle with daily.

So I left school because in my mind, I was too hopeless to achieve the grades I needed to get into University. When some of my friends left (to pursue hairdressing apprenticeships) or dropped out to do a tech course, I followed suit.  I had lost complete faith and confidence in my ability to achieve in that environment.  Sure, I had gotten through School C but barely. I did half of sixth form and on my 16th birthday cleared out my locker and left. Also, I had become increasingly truant – hiding out at a friend’s house, so I imagine I was getting pretty close to suspension or expulsion.

Now, I get that the system failed me. And while I can appreciate that in many cases teachers are under-resourced and overworked – my experience was not just about that. There was no effort by teachers at my High School to try to understand the lived experiences of urban Māori in the small white provincial town I grew up in. Not once, did a High School teacher give me some hope that I was capable of achieving my aspirations. Instead, I sat in class feeling like the walking talking stereotype that I was labelled as in the primary school playground and harassed with on the street by the local skinheads.

It absolutely was my choice to leave. But that choice was complex. I had been ground down to a point where I had zero confidence. I felt my choices were leave and save my dignity or subject myself to the utter humiliation of total failure proving right all those who had ridiculed or ignored my existence. I know now how wrong that all sounds. But those were my thoughts. Turns out, my giving up and leaving had pretty much the same effect.

So the point I see Smale make is that despite the long history of involvement of the PPTA in the education system, a disproportionate number of Māori schooling and education experiences are not positive and this has an effect on our mana. I don’t blame the PPTA for the outcomes of Māori, but I certainly question the monopolising of teaching (gatekeeping) and the ‘qualification requirement’ for a function or role that our tīpuna and many others throughout history have performed ‘unqualified’.

My view on this will likely infuriate those with a vested interest in the ‘qualification’ aspect of teaching. Do I think just anyone can teach? Absolutely not. I would certainly encourage safety checking to ensure students aren’t put at risk. I would also think employers of ‘unqualified’ teachers would ensure that those applying to teach were recognised as competent to do so by their peers. Noting, there are some subjects in which I consider it is inappropriate to require a formal qualification, especially with regard to Te Reo me ōna Tikanga Māori. Many of our kuia, koroua and rangatira have years of experience transferring that knowledge – and in a culturally appropriate way. I also think someone who has worked in a particular field, who has a strong practical understanding of a subject and has demonstrated strong leadership and mentoring in their roles could also make good teachers.

Yes, I get that a teaching qualification sets a professional standard that teachers are expected to comply with and there are absolutely benefits in that, in particular accountability. I disagree however that only teachers with a qualification will adhere to those professional standards. Sure there is a risk of rogue unqualified teachers, but the same is true of qualified teachers.

I said this on Twitter and will repeat here: I have no interest in pursuing a socialist versus capitalist narrative. My interest is in finding ways that will enable Māori to be designers of our own solutions – no matter what system we have because in my mind, this is one of the key ways we can exercise our tino rangatiratanga to improve outcomes for all our whānau.

When we can build alternative social institutions that are not reliant on the State (our oppressor) and not susceptible to the corruptive practices of corporatisation (our exploiter), then we can begin to dismantle the disparity. Dismantling began with the Kura Kaupapa and Kohanga Reo movement. It’s about time the State and gatekeepers recognise the legitimacy of our epistemologies and pedagogies and stop perpetuating the myth that mainstream approaches are superior to our indigenous practices. Its time for Māori to advance that movement further.

 

Note: 

I went to University at 23 when my first baby was 18 months old. The first year was really hard. I didn’t even know how to write an introduction for an essay. Since then, I have completed a conjoint BA/LLB, my law Profs and an LLM with First Class Honours. LOL at those teachers and all those people who didn’t believe in me.

 

The Māori Party will survive the shade

By Ellipsister, Co-Editor

Whether the Māori Party will survive the next election is a question often on the lips of many pundits. Given the landscape, there will be a lot of work to do. After all, throwing shade on the Māori Party occurs from the hard left, to the hard right and everywhere in between. That’s not to say that the Māori Party are immune from all criticism. Far from it. As a kaupapa Māori political entity, being open to transformation through critical reflection is imperative to its survival.

However, the narratives spilled across social media and news media pages allege sell outs, separatists, many invoking racial slurs – intended and unintended, and spit insult after insult. All that coupled with the intentional act of trying to misunderstand the Party and their kaupapa makes for a tough road ahead. Unsurprisingly, many who engage in said hostility have never sat kanohi ki te kanohi in a marae, or stood shoulder to shoulder in a hikoi to advance the interests of Māori, or soaked in the whakapapa of the party, or the aroha that every single person involved has demonstrated for whānau, hapū, iwi and hapori Māori. 

 As Māori its natural to look at the whakapapa of things. Tau Henare pointed out at the Party’s AGM that the seeds of the Māori Party were planted long before it manifested itself in 2005. He alluded to the fact that the party has an enduring whakapapa, and is born of many decades of resistance, from He Whakaputanga in 1835, to the Māori seats in 1867, the 1975 land march led by Dame Whina Cooper, to the days of Nga Tamatoa and Patu, the struggle for kohanga reo and kura kaupapa, through the rise and deminse of the Mana Motuhake Party and more. Knowing, understanding and appreciating the whakapapa of the party, will be instrumental in changing hearts and minds.

I have to agree with a remark I overheard a couple of kuia agree on:

It takes courage to be a member of the Māori Party

They were not criticising the party, they were referring to the political landscape Māori who advance kaupapa Māori are subjected to daily. They were acknowledging the assimilationist rhetoric, that many Māori are also championing – that we can’t trust ourselves and must invest our trust in the State, and invest our minds in ideologies that have not stemmed the flow of cultural loss and devastation. So I am comforted by the fact that there are many kuia and kaumatua who have and who continue to fight for kaupapa Māori, and many more people still who continue to mahia te mahi – not just in spite of, but because of the hostility.