Missing Pieces of History
On a recent Monday night when I might have otherwise been sitting on the couch watching the latest season of “The Diplomat” (isn’t it great?!) I was instead on a Zoom call talking about He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tireni.
The what now? It’s a fair question – I knew nothing of this document until this very year, which is remarkable given it has been around for 190 years and I’ve been around for not quite as long but enough.
But there are people – not me, obviously – who have grown up knowing about the Declaration of Rangatiratanga, initially signed in 1835 by thirty-four Northern Māori leaders, with eighteen more coming on board by 1839.
It’s not a lengthy document – if I’d known it was only four paragraphs long, I would have given it a good read before joining the Monday night online discussion and saved everyone involved some bother – I asked a lot of questions about Article One which were answered by Articles Three and Four when we got to them. Aroha mai.
It’s a beautiful document and I’d encourage you to read it – the original text and an excellent translation are on the Archives New Zealand website. It talks about mana coming from the land, and about justice, unity and peace. It acknowledges the presence of Pākehā but stands as a clear declaration of Māori sovereignty and statehood.
Those questions of mine would test the patience of a saint, and our guide in the online discussion suggests I “hold my questions lightly”. It’s a good point – dwelling on questions can be more rewarding than chasing a tidy answer.
I keep wanting to know definitively what everyone was thinking when they drafted this document, and then Te Tiriti o Waitangi which comes just a few years later, the logical step after He Whakaputanga.
I have pondered what Te Tiriti signatories – Māori and Pākehā - had in mind. Was it aspirational? Were they sincere? Was it a colonial trick? I keep assuming there is a tidy answer somewhere.
Instead, I’m encouraged to sit with the discomfort of not knowing. Ultimately, perhaps these questions about the beginning of a document matter less than what we do about that document now.
The next morning, I text my daughter who’s been teaching her intermediate class about He Whakaputanga. I tell her I am so ticked off that I was not taught about any of this at school - nor much else about our history – that now I am impatient to learn.
Then, over my morning coffee, I read news that our government is to remove a requirement for school boards to give effect to Te Tiriti o Waitangi because, they argue, this job of honouring Te Tiriti belongs to the Crown, not to parents and schools.
I appreciate this does not mean that Te Tiriti won’t be taught in schools. But I regret that parents on school boards will no longer be required to think about how Te Tiriti can inform their decisions, because this might be the nudge people need to think about those promises and the opportunities they present. I don’t see this as the Crown unfairly “passing on this duty” to schools, but “sharing this duty” with them.
Every time I hear that references to Te Tiriti are being removed from government legislation and policy, I am disappointed. But I am also pleased that – ironically – it keeps it front and centre in our national conversation. This is a paradox I am happy to sit with.