He Whakaputanga, Te Tiriti and Māori never ceded sovereignty

An update of a (more than 13 years old) post giving a really brief overview of my understanding of He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti, plus new bonus content!! (A wee mention of Luxon’s ignorance and Seymour’s raweke)

He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti, are very closely related—Ani Mikaere describes He Whakaputanga as the key to understanding Te Tiriti. The figure below shows this whakapapa: tikanga Māori reflects a Māori understanding of reality.* The arrival and behaviour of Europeans created a new set of risks for tangata whenua, and hapū from the north looked for a solution from tikanga Māori—the only place they would look. That solution was He Whakaputanga (which you can read at nzhistory). He Whakaputanga affirms a Māori way of organising: hapū retain their rangatiratanga, but will gather as te Whakaminenga to discuss issues affecting all of them.

Whakapapa of Te Tiriti and the principles of the Treaty

Te Tiriti was written 5 years later, and retains two key terms of He Whakaputanga—rangatiratanga (meaning ultimate authority and independence) and kāwanatanga (meaning delegated authority). It is a very simple document. Te Tiriti reaffirms He Whakaputanga— rangatiratanga remains with hapū, but some authority is delegated to the Crown in order that they can manage their own people. As Moana Jackson points out, this is consistent with Māori traditions of treaty making (for example, in his chapter of Imagining Decolonisation, reprinted here). The majority of hapū did not sign Te Tiriti—500+ rangatira signed on behalf of their hapū, 30+ signed ‘The Treaty of Waitangi’ because a copy of Te Tiriti was not available.

Very few New Zealanders know much about Te Tiriti beyond its existence (even fewer know anything about He Whakaputanga); most know more about The Treaty. I went to school in Northland, the birthplace of both He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti, and I didn’t learn about either. I only learned about The Treaty of Waitangi.

The document written in English, called the Treaty of Waitangi (which Margaret Mutu calls ‘a draft’ and ‘irrelevant’), comes from a completely different understanding of the world, a colonising understanding. Again it is a simple document. According to The Treaty, hapū ceded sovereignty to the Crown, but retain limited property rights. This is in the tradition of European colonising laws.

It should be clear that Te Tiriti and the English-language ‘Treaty of Waitangi’ are pretty much diametrically opposing on the point of political or decision making authority. According to one, hapū have ultimate political power under which the Crown has limited authority; according to the other the Crown has ultimate political power under which Māori have property rights. We are taught that they are two versions of the same document, but clearly they are not. They are based on entirely different understandings of the world and entirely different legal systems. Only one of them was discussed and agreed to at Waitangi in 1840—and it’s not the one where Māori cede sovereignty to the Crown (sorry about that Luxon).

The principles of the Treaty are a much later invention, which are supposed to provide a bridge between the two documents. These principles have not been developed with Māori representation—they have been developed entirely by the Crown (Māori in Crown roles in government, the courts or the Waitangi Tribunal have had input, but they are clearly not Māori representative roles). The principles affirm the Crown’s understanding of the Treaty and do nothing to challenge their assumption of Crown sovereignty. As my figure above shows, the principles of the Treaty are therefore born from the Treaty of Waitangi, which in turn was born from colonising law.

No hapū or Iwi signed the principles of The Treaty, but all school children learn about them. The new New Zealand history curriculum at least means now children might also learn about He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti.

Recommended Reading

To learn more about He Whakaputanga, Te Tiriti, the principles of the treaty, or (gods forbid) the Treaty Principles Bill, here’s where I recommend you start.

Very Long

Waitangi Tribunal’s He Whakaputanga me te Tiriti | The Declaration and the Treaty The Report on Stage 1 of the Te Paparahi o te Raki Inquiry (link will take you to full pdf)

It’s very long, 500 odd pages. If you don’t want to read it all, the key chapters are 8 Past perspectives on Te Tiriti and The Treaty (pp 407-446) and 10 Our Conclusions (pp 497-532).

Much Shorter

Chapter 6 “Te Tiriti and the Treaty: seeking to reconcile the irreconcilable in the name of truth” in Ani Mikaere’s book Colonising Myths – Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro (if you haven’t read the book, it’s great. And sadly everything in it continues to be very relevant).

Very Short

Margaret Mutu on Te Tiriti and the Treaty Principles Bill

Primer from Carwyn Jones (link will take you to pdf)

* Note: people like Seymour try to muddy the waters on these sorts of phrases—‘based on Māori thinking’,  ‘Māori understandings’, etc. They say things like ‘Māori don’t all think the same, there is no single Māori understanding of reality’. That’s true, and it’s also not what those phrases mean. They mean thinking or understandings (or whatever) developed from mātauranga Māori. People like Seymour don’t like to admit that Māori have developed our own philosophies and knowledge systems, so they pretend to misunderstand.

FWIW, the ‘misunderstanding’ is based on grammar. I am confident Seymour understands the difference between ‘Māori think such and such’ (where Māori is a noun meaning Māori people) and ‘Māori thinking’ (where Māori is an adjective meaning related to Māori). A couple of analogous examples that show the difference are ‘Westerners think’ versus ‘western thinking’ or ‘Christians think’ versus ‘Christian thinking.



Section 7AA and tamariki Māori

I’ve recently written about the proposed repeal of Section 7AA of the Oranga Tamariki Act. This is a summary based on a piece for e-tangata (‘Not one more child’) and a submission from the New Zealand Family Violence Clearinghouse. More detail including references and evidence can be found in those documents.

  • The state and media have pushed a story of bad Māori parenting for decades to justify removing children, and ignored evidence of generations of Māori children harmed by the state.
  • The state has harmed Māori children by attacking Māori systems of safety and wellbeing, by removing tens of thousands of Māori children from whānau, and by putting those children in violent situations.
  • The Abuse in Care Royal Commission of Inquiry found the State has enabled neglect, abuse and torture of over 200,000 children since 1950. Māori were more likely to be taken into care, and to be treated badly.
  • In the 1980s, Puao Te Ata Tu and He Whaipaanga Hou both reported on the effects of racist state policies and practices, and recommended Māori-led solutions. Neither have been implemented.
  • Section 7AA of the Oranga Tamariki Act was an overdue and inadequate move towards those recommendations, allowing more decisions to be made by rōpū Māori.
  • Māori have always looked for ways to protect and care for our children—including setting up kōhanga and kura and other rōpū and programmes that keep them away from racism and the state.
  • Māori seized the opportunity created by 7AA, and are setting up strategies and programmes to support whānau and tamariki in all sorts of ways. It feels like the start of a massive shift.
  • The government wants to remove 7AA despite all evidence, advice and analysis supporting 7AA and warning against its removal, including from Oranga Tamariki and other state officials.
  • There is evidence that 7AA is reducing inequities and improving outcomes for tamariki, is increasing the wellbeing of children and whānau, and is reducing the risk of harm to children.
  • There is no available evidence that 7AA is causing harm or unsafe practice or decisions, nor that 7AA is reducing the safety, stability or wellbeing of children.
  • The Crown should be listening to Māori organisations, to people and organisations with care experience, and to the findings from the Abuse in Care Royal Commission of Inquiry.
  • Whatever this government does, Māori will continue to show up for our children.

Of frippery and joy

This post is about writing, unexpected joy, and appreciating all the pretty things.

At the best of times, I struggle to write. I enjoy it—writing helps me think, it brings me calm and clarity, relief. But I avoid it. I look for other work so I won’t have to write. I’m stoked to get emails that I have to read, especially if they give me tasks to take up time (please send me work to review or edit. Anything to save me from my own writing).

Over the last few years, I’ve changed the way I write.

The first covid lockdown meant I was putting together a book from home. My desk was in a corner of our bedroom, tucked behind chests of drawers, and was just big enough for my computer and keyboard. There was no room for writing with pen and paper, or reading at my desk. I had to sit on the bed (and still I was stoked to be able to work at home).

I write differently on paper. Stepping away from the computer somehow makes it easier to get in a good headspace. I read, but I’m not typing notes. I write, but I’m not as tempted to edit as I go. I spend more time thinking. I don’t try to put anything together until I have pages and pages of notes, often rehashing the same stuff.

I write better at home than in the office. Maybe because home is where I want to be.

Since that lockdown, I’ve been surprised and pleased with most of what I’ve written. It’s far from prolific, but each piece feels like the best I can do.

And then out of the blue, something else has made writing easier.

Setting up a decent workspace at home has meant I’m buying my own stationery. For years I’ve used disposable pens supplied by my work, I go through them pretty quick. Thinking about buying them for myself brought home how much cheap pen-shaped plastic I am sending to landfills. After some research, I found fountain pens are the best refillable option in New Zealand.

Based on reviews I ordered a not very expensive pen and some blue-black ink. When I filled the pen, I remembered the one Mum gave me when I graduated—my old Parker was buried in my pen drawer. I had forgotten how much I enjoy a nice pen, and now I had two. I just needed a different coloured ink.

Then my whānau got covid.

Fortunately we only had mild symptoms. But the combination of my covid-addled mind and being shut away from the world  with the internet just as I discovered the world of fountain pens and ink (so much more than the blue or black options of the 80s) meant feverish hours shopping for ink, notebooks, more pens. At the end of it, I had 6 (stunning) inks, 5 fountain pens with various nibs, and 3 notebooks of different paper stock (it could’ve been worse).

And suddenly I look forward to writing. I watch the pen in my hand as I write, beautiful ink glowing in its barrel. It makes me smile. The reddish-purple words spread across the page, and I can’t help but feel happy. Filling my notebook with midnight blue, crimson, purple and turquoise writing (and more to try) is so unexpectedly joyful.

I could turn this into an essay about heteropatriarchy and how femmephobia robs us of simple joys (I so want to write that essay), but I’m going to leave it here. A post about the importance of pretty things, and the joy they can bring. Even to something as dry as my writing.

(Pen is TWSBI Diamond mini with extra fine nib, ink is Iroshizuku yama-budo)