Speaker by Various Artists

Providing a storm for the teacup

by Joe Young

"Did you see me on 20/20 last night?" I'm sure a lot of students asked that of their mates last Monday. You know the ALAC survey claiming 51% of New Zealanders are binge drinkers? Well, sensing easy meat, the good people at 20/20 came down to Dunedin to do a fright story about student drinking culture.

To put things in context there was an interview with Clarke Gayford, C4 host and Otago alumnus.

"Oh, burning couches is almost compulsory down here", he lied. But then he said "It's a freedom thing - you come down here, you're shopping for a double bed and pitching in with your mates for a keg..."

True enough. Putting 18,000 kids in a different city from their parents, telling them they're cool and giving them beer is asking for trouble. And asking around about alcohol certainly got 20/20 an enthusiastic chorus of "Shit, yeah". But you have to consider the milieu of the interviews. Clarke used to co-host Cow TV, a program dedicated to the manifesto that students are clever, zany people always throwing elaborate stunts and practical jokes. How credible a source do you suppose he is? And if you came to town in the middle of Orientation Week, gatecrashed a second-year party, stuck a TV camera in someone's face and said "so, you guys drinking?" what response would you expect?

20/20 also interviewed some of our fearless leaders - OUSA President Andrew Cushen washing his hands like MacBeth at the castle well and Viki Yates, the more self-absorbed of our two Women's Rights Officers, gleefully explaining how she 'always' gets touched up in pubs (come on, Vic - you're not that hot). Thus the story consisted of attention-seeking, self-aggrandising lies from both the student body and the earnest, fatuous dorks who play at being the leaders thereof. And consequently, about the only pertinent comment in the whole item was "Scarfies drink".

Which they do. Frequently to excess. And I'm sure that, as they survey suggests, 10% of female students and 20% of their boyfriends have suffered 'negative effects' as a result of someone else's drinking. But what does that mean? I once had some inebriated jerk insist on shaking my hand for some reason. Another time I was hit on by a bunch of female acquaintances who, ipso facto, must have been fairly wasted. But they were also kidding (the ringleader later congratulated me for not returning their attentions) and apart from having to walk one of those girls home safely I wouldn't say I was inconvenienced by it. I spoke to the proctor about this recently (20/20, bafflingly, didn't), and he was quick to point out that these 'negative effects' had more to do with babysitting stupid flatmates and dodging vomit slicks on Monday mornings than it did with beatings and rapes.

Pinpointing alcohol as a cause of obnoxious student behaviour, furthermore, ignores a key point. Students behave badly. But the problem is not that half of students are binge drinkers. The problem is that almost all students are in their teens or twenties. Invested with the rights of adulthood but exempt from its responsibilities - wife, kids, mortgage - such people will behave like heedless idiots with or without something to drink. Trust me, I do it myself. That's why we have a proctor. Boozing is a symptom, not a cause. Students who throw noisy parties, chuck woodchips at cars and cop handfuls of Viki in Re:Fuel or me at KAOS functions aren't acting drunk. They're acting their age.

20/20 did a bad story, but frankly I don't blame them. They just jumped on a recent publication and made some easy copy off it, pretty much what I'm doing with them right now. Anybody familiar with the horrible, creeping deadlines journalism necessarily entails has to sympathise with them.

Journalists will be journalists. And students, being students, have only themselves to blame for providing a storm for the teacup. If they'd wanted to explain their drinking habits, they could have said "Yes, Ms Journalist, we are moderately drunk, but this is a merely a temporary by-product of being of an age where our entire existence is a meaningless exercise in having fun, puffing ourselves up and playing to the cameras. Hence we are full of shit. Please tell us to sit down and shut up." But of course they didn't do that. Instead, they just acted like students - foolishly, falsely, and self-referentially. I'm sure a lot of questions will be asked about last Sunday's story, but I'm also pretty sure the most common one will be:

"Did you see me on 20/20 last night?"

About the soul of our nation

by Pat Snedden

The last month has been anything but benign in our national debate about race and privilege. Don Brash has named for many the key elements of an increased unease about the way Maoris have perceived special status in New Zealand deriving from the Treaty of Waitangi. It is a theme picked up by lots of New Zealanders.

The response to Dr Brash is underpinned by a belief that Maori status in New Zealand is supported by a slew of Government initiatives that are based on race. So if funding in health, education or housing programmes has any element that identifies ethnicity they are in the firing line. It's all about need, not race claims Dr Brash. The details are not important. It is the iconic big picture notion that ' we are all the same' that drives the policy and is proving seductive to many New Zealanders.

An essential anchor point for this argument relates to where the Treaty fits. In the view of Dr Brash it is an historical relic, a founding document true enough and an agreement that provides important and necessary ballast to our historical sense of self. It also can be cited in reference to cleaning up our past cultural landscape. But as to future reference, it will play no part under his leadership. It is a document of a different time and the world has moved on. In fact the country will be a better place if we acknowledge that there are multiple ethnic groups here now and no one of these should take precedence over the other. This after all is the nature of a one person, one vote democracy.

Well this Pakeha New Zealander begs to differ.

We are here in midst of a fundamental debate that at this point is actually quite narrow. It rests on three important primary considerations: money, countering Maori influence and competing cultural histories. I want to deal with these elements with due weight because to contest these positions adequately requires a little time and care.

I will then follow these comments with the real thrust of today's talk which is to suggest a significant opening up of this debate. This theme will suggest that we are at a moment of significant cultural clarity, that should we have the confidence to recognise it will allow for transformation of a race relations in a way quite different from that proposed by Dr Brash.

However let me return to what I consider to be Dr Brash's primary considerations:

Money

This is the special treatment argument. At its root this discussion is about state funding. Who is entitled to get it, who is in fact getting it and who is paying for it? The 'need versus race' description is a clever slogan that divides those who should benefit from those who should not benefit and makes it morally permissible to attack the undeserving as benefiting when they shouldn't. Who can argue with this?

So let us examine this slogan by dealing with the most important real life example used by Dr Brash to illustrate his point, the funding of PHOs, or Primary Health Organisations.
First allow me to set some context for Maori health:

Corrected mortality rates (per 100,000 per year) from 1980 to 1999 by ethnicity

It is worth making a short but important point here: The higher up the graph you are the shorter your life span. Maori males do not on average live long enough to collect their superannuation and the trend is worsening in contrast to non-Maori where long life is increasing

CV Mortality & Revascularisation
Mortality vs Intervention, Males (Rates per 100,000)

It is worth making a second short but equally important point here also: Maori have twice as much heart failure and receive less than half as many life saving interventions (bypasses and angioplasty) than all other New Zealanders on average

I picked these two points because the first illustrates the incontrovertible macro level evidence. The second shows at a personal level the dilemma many Maori find themselves with in the health system that should give them access to services to keep them well and it doesn't.

Which of the above statements does not meet any reasonable person's view about a level of need? So why is the PHO policy developed to explicitly address this need under the Brash hammer as being race based and not need based?

The PHO allows for population based funding. In short, when you go to see your doctor she gets paid not by the number of times you turn up (which used to be the case) but by having you enrolled on her patient register. Why is this? Because the government wanted to make it cheaper for you, the patient, to visit the doctor. So instead of you paying more each time you visited the government paid the doctor more to be available to see you when required without you bearing the cost.

This change means the government is now paying for GPs to look after a community (or population) of patients, not just individuals. It also wanted to make sure that those with the highest need got access to this increased benefit as fast as possible. So in the first instance this funding went to the Gps who looked after the old, the young, the chronically ill and those most evidentially disadvantaged in health status (Maori and Pacific).

The government also said it would apply similar levels of funding to all New Zealanders over a 5-8 year period. Given that this is the biggest leap in investment in primary care funding for 50 years this was not an unreasonable plan. Deal with the highest need immediately and phase in benefits to all.

Dr Brash attacks this however because one of the PHO criteria. This criterion gives higher funding priority to a PHO if they have greater than 50% of their population who described themselves as being of Maori of Pacific Island origin, or are within the highest 20% of deprived population in this country. In short, based on evidence of need, your PHO gets more money. Dr Brash chooses to view this through a contrary lens. In spite of the overwhelming evidence in support of need, he claims this is racial preference.

This is where I think his analysis is dead wrong. In applying a population-based focus to primary health care the government has understood something fundamental about Maori society that has eluded Dr Brash. If it is to reverse the life expectancy trends of Maori then perhaps the benefits of care might often be best delivered within a collective framework or ethic that is far more intuitive to Maori than to Pakeha. This is actually at the heart of the matter of efficiency. It means more Maori health providers. If we are to support Maori to help themselves, we need to support options to deliver their own care in ways most intuitive to their own social system. Plain, rational, economic common sense.

That's is not needs-based, says Dr Brash, that is race-based. I invite you to make up your own mind.

Another key point about this money discussion is the difference between equality and equity of access. Dr Brash says we all should be treated the same. If that were the case we would not have a pension system. We are clearing discriminating in favour of the aged when they get benefits the rest of us don't receive. We are also treating families differently to single people. Families get tax rebates for children, single childless people don't. Is Dr Brash saying he will stop this?

Treating every one equally therefore is not nearly as simple as it sounds. A better indicator is equality of access. On that basis we pay the pension to the elderly because we acknowledge their right to participate economically in the fruits of society even though they no longer work. We also support the unemployed for similar reasons, even though with a degree more scrutiny. We also offer loans to students. This is all about evening-out an uneven playing field and for the most part gains wide public support.

So how do we guarantee equality of access for Maori for life saving heart interventions? Do we do something more for Maori than non-Maori to improve that access? Of course we do on the same basis we pay pensions. We do so because we intuitively believe Maori have the right to the level of life-expectancy that non-Maori experience.

It's not that complicated I would have thought. Why has Dr Brash failed to grasp it?

Countering Maori influence

This is the one law for all argument where in a democracy majority rules. More particularly, this is also about who is entitled to hold sway. Who exercises influence so university places are available in law and medicine? Who can hold up courts and tribunals and on what basis and who is missing out when influence is being exercised that is contrary to their interests?

Dr Brash is addressing his message directly to those who feel that the minority are keeping them at a distance from the centre of power. When a majority feels a threat to its standing, the reaffirmation in powerful terms of the maxim one person one vote under one law, provides them with a great way on getting tickets back into the front seats.

This is the also the home of the 'tikanga' argument. The fact that the hospital staff are being required to learn tikanga best practice for dealing with their Maori patients is a call to arms. If this is the case why aren't they learning Somali best practice and Indian best practice?

So why don't we examine this?

What is tikanga? Tikanga is about exercising your cultural manners in order that relationships are protected. It is practised every where every day by all of us but when you are part of the majority (dominant) culture you hardly notice because it is intuitive to your world view. That is until someone offends against your sense of proprietary. Helen Clark offended Dr Brash's Pakeha tikanga when she refused to allow grace and wore trousers at the function for the Queen. This was not a religious objection from Dr Brash. Rather he was offended that appropriate Pakeha protocol of formal dress and the formal introduction of the meal was not followed thus risking a potential slight to the Sovereign. Importantly, the focus of his concern was the welfare and dignity of the guest, not the providers of the hospitality.

Now Maori are clearly comfortable that the Pakeha tikanga exists for the most part. They are capable of following it without undue compromise to their worldview. But in some circumstances, they are clear that they must ensure that their own cultural manners take precedence. This occurs when they are in their own milieu, such as on the marae or when the dominant agenda (kaupapa) is Maori.

It also most definitely applies in matters of sickness, of physical, mental or spiritual vulnerability of any kind. The reason is simple. Without the protection that comes from tending to the wairua (sense of spiritual wellbeing within your kin group), the outcome for the patient whether they live or die is culturally compromised. Clearly a hospital is one such context in which an understanding of tikanga therefore makes huge cross-cultural sense. There is no treatment more patient-centred than ensuring the practice of sound tikanga.

It is therefore something of a tragedy that after 160 years of living with each other there are so few staff within the public hospital system that have confident and intuitive knowledge of such basic requirements of Maori. So now we have to institute a set of guidelines to help support and train them. It was not always thus. Early settlers and officials were relatively knowledgeable about things Maori. They had to be.

As to the Somali tikanga, you would be surprised as to the extent public health systems are responding by way of translators and support people and supportive reference materials for the new New Zealanders. If you give this any sort of thought you realise that this is all about understanding one another in order to be able to function in respectful harmony.

Not for Dr Brash however. He thinks that having to consider any tikanga apart from Paheha tikanga is according that group a special privilege. How strange?

Let's be clear. Countering Maori influence is also about money, more particularly about cost of compliance. Mono-culturalism is of its nature cheap and efficient. So when a taniwha holds up our building programme or a wahi tapu declaration stops us building a holiday house on the beachfront, then this offends not only our sense of 'oneness under the law' but also our maxim of economic efficiency.

Let's put aside for one moment the raft of legislation that legally provides for more than one view on resource consent matters and deal with the substance of the concern that Maori are getting special treatment, such as with the tikanga illustration above.

What exists here is the playing out of 'dual views' of our country and our world. For the most part these worlds coincide. But as the recent foreshore debate shows there are times when the difference can be stark. When this happens Maori are attacked for holding things up, for not seeing things the way we see them or for being unreasonable.

An example is the 'taniwha' example. For Maori the announcement of the appearance of the taniwha activates a specific cultural metaphor that signals that a protection of a relationship is being breached, or is about to be breached. It often involves the prospect of danger or death. It is a serious matter and serious attention needs to be paid to consequences. Right relationships need restoring.

Thus when a stretch of roadway had seen repeated deaths from car accidents tangata whenua were clear that the matter needed sorting. Except that such sorting required discussion and perhaps a ritual response which in itself required a delay to the project, or even a redrawing of the road. The matter quickly became a contest between science and superstition with a hint of commercial gain thrown in for good measure. What should present as a constructive and appropriate contribution to the solving of the problem, death on this road, becomes belittled as a cultural match-up between the space-age and the stone-age.

But is it not true that Pakeha take meaning from cultural metaphors as well? Let's stay with the roadway example. Who of us has not seen the line up of white crosses on the roadside of SH1 bedecked with flowers, occasionally inscribed with names of those killed at this spot? What are these if not cultural metaphors? They at one level mark the simple passing of the deceased. At another level they sound a warning: be careful how you drive here. At yet another level the use of the Christian cross calls down the protection and forgiveness of a God that looks over us. Even an agnostic can get a grip of this regardless that they give it no credence.

Now tell me there would be no reaction in the Pakeha community if one night Transit decided to run down this highway and remove all these crosses without explanation but because they are inconvenient or unsightly. There would be huge public outcry. Why? Because people recognise these symbols are about deep meaning in their lives - don't trifle with them.

So what is it therefore that stops us from recognising that Maori might have a different meaning system (or worldview) to Pakeha and thus take the trouble to learn the skills of negotiating these dual views with each other?

My answer here might surprise you. I suggest what stops us is a massive Pakeha disadvantage in these discussions.

For most Maori in NZ who are representing a Maori view of an issue, they will be totally conversant with the Pakeha view of that same issue. The reason is simple. Their exposure to things Pakeha since 1860 has been comprehensive and without escape. Contrast the average Pakeha person of our acquaintance. They can live a full life in NZ and have never encountered Maori in their own milieu be it at hui, tangi or on the marae. Therefore when it comes to negotiating Treaty related matters such as resource consents where different views of an issue are legitimated by statute, they are often at sea and forced to seek and pay for Maori advice to make meaningful discussion possible.

This is why the 'countering Maori influence' appeal of Dr Brash has caught hold. Quite simply, he is saying to worried Pakeha: we know you are uncomfortable with this need to consider another worldview; we know how it makes you feel vulnerable. Don't worry, under us we will make it all go away. But will it?

Competing cultural histories

This is about who do we believe, not just about what we believe. An explosion of historical literature has in the space of one generation turned many of our cultural myths on their head. Further, the detailed historical record in the Waitangi Tribunal, a bi-partisan tribunal, shows a different picture to the education received by those of us born between 1940 and 1960. This is not universally popular.

For many of us there is a large knowledge gap. Most New Zealanders do not have a detailed understanding of the competing views of our cultural history. Therefore when Dr Brash says enough is enough he is speaking to an audience prepared to be engaged with a vague idea of historical injustice but clear that it holds no contemporary relevance.

In many respects Dr Brash has given up on the veracity of the historical argument because to him it has only one strategic relevance and that is to settle and close off remaining claims. In short he will settle for a view of history that shows colonisation severely disadvantaged Maori in some places, that they were economically and culturally impoverished by its effects and that the Tribunal should get on and make its deliberations and the Crown should settle.

All this rather leaves many of us aged 40 and older who are currently the 'influence' generation somewhat bewildered and bearing the brunt of the historical revision. This is too tough for some. Many are saying enough already! Brash has heard them.

As he said at Orewa, "Many things happened to the Maori people that should not have happened. There were injustices and the Treaty process is an attempt to acknowledge that and to make a gesture of recompense. But it is only that. It can be no more that that."

This is not good news for those Maori who have settled Treaty claims on the basis that their manawhenua (their tribal authority within a region) has been affirmed. Explicit in those settlements has been the agreement that they will have a part in the shaping of the future of Aotearoa where the Treaty has a contemporary role to play. Negating this is dire news indeed. Yet another agreement with the Crown is about to be threatened because one of the contractual parties no longer subscribes and does not consider themselves bound by their predecessors.

This is very important. The Treaty settlement policy is quite explicit that the recompense offered is woefully inadequate as reparation, but that the future partnership relationships will help to assuage the uncompensated losses of the past. If Maori are to lose that ongoing future relationship with the Crown under a Brash government, then the whole basis of the settlements policy will have been undermined. This is a sure recipe for another round of grievance thinking, instead of a positive future.

Looking to the Treaty as a template for the Future - widening the debate

The central problem with Dr Brash is more substantive than even Maori apprehension about yet another welching on the Treaty undertakings by the Crown. It is simply that as a proposition or a vision for the way our future nation might look it lacks confidence and breadth. The scope is shrunken, catering to a fearful audience seeking solace against a rising and increasingly sophisticated view of what democracy in a Treaty based, multi-cultural society may look like.

I want to propose to you the how the foundations of such a society might be described and show you by way of illustration, where they actually exist as we speak now.

Let me begin by addressing the mana of the signatories to the Treaty, Mana Pakeha and Mana Maori. Why the focus on mana and what is this all about?

My reading of mana in this context can best be explained by the English words of honour, integrity and respect in a manner that is intuitive to relationships and assumes permanence. These are the admirable qualities of the human race at its best and in Aotearoa New Zealand these qualities abound. Perhaps in this current debate however they are a little hidden and have been lost sight of.

So let us remind this current generation of what has been achieved in an assessment of our history. What has ennobled this debate in the last 30 years? Let me pick five examples.

Most definitely the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal. This tribunal conceived by Matiu Rata but delivered by a Labour Government began in 1975 with a limited mandate to look at contemporary grievances. In 1985 under David Lange it increased its mandate back to 1840 and the Treaty signing. It has had bi-partisan parliamentary support up to now.

This decision has proved decisive in race relations in this country. It has provided the forum, some would say 'release valve', for Maori who want their history recognised, their experience recorded, some compensation attempted but most acutely, their mana restored. Maori are hugely realistic that there is no going back to 1840. But they are also canny enough to know that affirmation of their manawhenua (tribal authority over a region) within their rohe (region) gives them opportunities for participation in cultural and commercial affairs previous denied them.

This restoration of mana, most notably by the defining of manawhenua is extraordinarily important to tangata whenua and barely understood by a handful of Pakeha. Concluded settlements that define uncontested manawhenua gives the holders significant advantages in recognition by local authorities, government institutions, the Courts and other Maori.

The prospect that manawhenua could be relegated once again to a matter of no importance in the wider society is truly mind-boggling. Especially given that the whole Treaty process turns on the understanding of being able to identify who indeed the Crown relates to in matters of governance around its Treaty responsibilities.

The writing of our history in new ways. In this period of immense creativity we have see the emergence of major scholarship from Claudia Orange, Ann Salmond, Jamie Bellich, Judith Binney, Alan Ward and Michael King, all Pakeha. They have taken a sober and hard-headed view of the historical record that first emanated from the pens of Peter Buck and Keith Sinclair. There are many others, both Maori and Pakeha who have shaped the new written record through the histories commissioned by the Tribunal.

The approach of the Courts. Required to articulate what an application of Treaty principles might look like they have set in place working principles that successive governments have been able to shape to their political colour - that is up to now.

The emergence of Maori school choice. There are now full immersion Maori educational options from pre-school to tertiary education. None of these existed 30 years ago.

The renaissance in Maori arts and performance. Undoubtedly the Te Maori exhibition was the most significant cultural export expressing our essential New Zealand self-confidence the rest of the world had experienced in this period. It has been followed by an unprecedented take-up by Maori in the arts producing for this country some of its most significant branding for overseas markets.

The purpose of these illustrative examples is to demonstrate that Aotearoa is a different place with different cultural reflexes to 30 years ago. Further this mix exemplifies an emerging cultural confidence for all New Zealanders in our nation.

So let us now return to the importance of mana. For Treaty settlements to stick they require mana to be at stake. Both parties have to have a lot to lose if the threads become undone. This means that future relationships need to be conducted with some care in the knowledge that reconciliation and closure have come at a price. And that price is compromise.

Maori have in fact agreed by settlement that a contemporary restoration to their position in 1840 is unsustainable, even though the gravity of their exclusion from the economic and cultural fruits since 1840 is conceded by the Crown.

Often the most important value of the settlements is not in fact the money. As useful as it may be for iwi redevelopment it will quickly pass from memory. It is as I said for Maori the restoration of manawhenua which carries with it clear expectations of participation as equals in the shape of the future of this country, not as just one of many but as a duly constituted founding participant of this society. This participation is as a full player, no longer the supplicant at the Crown's table. The Treaty process, so often derided by its critics as self-serving and encouraging of a victim mentality within Maori, has actually achieved precisely the opposite effect for the successful claimants.

The mana at stake on the Crown side is precisely that deriving from the recognition by Maori that the Crown could have said 'no'. After all it had for over a 130 years. But the Crown (the people of New Zealand) did not say no. They said instead, 'let's hear what you have to say and let's clean up outstanding matters between us.'

This is a breathtaking position to be taken by a dominant culture anywhere, and it is possibly unprecedented in our living memories. People have talked in comparative terms of the significance of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. This came after the ending of apartheid when the power dynamics had reversed in favour of the black population. We need only look to Australia where 'not saying sorry' has reached such absurdly gothic proportions to see how far New Zealand has come.

And let it be said clearly. The Waitangi Tribunal would not have functioned without the consent of the population, the majority of whom are Pakeha and other recent or long established migrants. In short, much honour integrity and respect has been put on the line in making progress. These are not matters with which to trifle no matter the short-term gain.

That is why the shrunken view of our national capacity to aim for the good that Dr Brash is promoting needs to be challenged for the smallness of vision that it represents.

If we therefore make the reasonable assumption that all Treaty settlements will be settled in the lifetime of our children what shape will New Zealand be in and what will be that relationship between Maori and the Crown into the future? Will it be as Dr Brash suggests, a non-question because there will no longer be Crown and tangata whenua as the Treaty will have been put to bed and NZ will be far too diversified?

I suggest not.

I want to finish this paper with an illustration by way of a case study. I refer to Ngati Whatua o Orakei, the hapu of Ngati Whatua iwi who by a 1991 Act of Parliament are recognised as holding manawhenua standing in the Auckland isthmus.

The re-emergence of this tribal hapu after nearly a 110 years of seeming absence from public affairs is one of the startling re-discoveries of Auckland in this last 30 years and it shows us with precise clarity to what heights the future of this nation could genuinely aspire.

So let me take you through a brief journey traversing three centuries:

In 1840, just months after the signing of the Treaty, Apihai Te Kawau, paramount chief of Ngati Whatua invited Governor Hobson to come to Tamaki Makaurau to set up his seat of government. He offered Hobson an inducement. Come, he said and I will give you 3000 acres to develop your settlement. Make this the capital and I will give you more. The area transferred in modern day terms was Parnell, the CBD, Ponsonby, Grey Lynn, Herne Bay and some of Newmarket and Mount Eden

In 1841 a gathering of 1000 Ngati Whatua greeted Hobson on the shores of Okahu Bay. Te Kawau addressed him. "Governor, Governor, welcome as a father to me: there is land for you ... go and pick the best part of the land and place your people, at least our people upon it."

The block chosen is latter day Westmere, Pt Chevalier, Western Springs, Waterview, Avondale, Mount Albert, Titirangi, Sandringham, Mt Roskill, Three Kings, Balmoral, Kingsland, Mount Eden and Epsom.

This represented the transfer of a further 8000 acres.

Why would Apihai have made such a significant gesture? What was behind his thinking? The answer was an alliance. The transfer of land was in Maori terms a "tuku rangatira", a gift with strings attached. Those strings were the advantages to be gained from commerce, education and health and the protection of all under the law. The Orakei report of the Waitangi Tribunal commented that the " settlers came not as conquerors, not as interlopers, but as Te Kawau's invitees to share the land with Ngati Whatua."

All this contains a certain poignant relevance for in 1869 at a hearing of the Native Land Court Apihai Te Kawau was asked "Who were the people who sold Auckland to the Europeans?" The answer was "I did not sell it, I gave it to them." On the further question of "Did not the government give you and your people money for it afterwards?" Apihai answered: "No, I have been constantly looking for payment but have not got it."

Why was Apihai in the Native Land Court? Because within 5 years of the invitation to Hobson to come to Auckland, Ngati Whatua who had previously uncontested standing as manawhenua across the Auckland isthmus had seen over 100,000 acres of its whenua disappear with little to show for it. By 1868 they were reduced to the 700 acre Orakei Block deemed by the court at that time to be forever inalienable, not to be sold. This was later reversed just before the first world war. In 1913 government changed the policy. While Ngati Whatua leaders were with New Zealand troops overseas the government passed a law allowing for the individualisation of title. The land was sold off and what remained then was a marae, a pa and an urupa based at Okahu Bay.

In 1951 the marae and pa were deemed an eyesore on Tamaki Drive and unsafe for habitation. The Auckland City Council evicted all residents to new State housing on the Kupe St hill and razed the marae and attendant buildings to the ground. The quarter acre urupa was all that remained.

Thus to summarise: the once proud people of the Tamaki isthmus, at 1840 holding sway over the whole of Auckland; the people who invited and induced Hobson to Auckland to form the seat of government; were reduced in precisely 112 years to a landless few living off the state. They were without a marae to whakapapa to and were left with a quarter acre cemetery being the last piece of land they could tribally claim as its own.

It is not surprising therefore that in 1978 when a group of Ngati Whatua said 'no!' to the Muldoon government's plan to subdivide what they genuinely believed was their legitimate estate, people everywhere began asking, "Just who are these people?"

Bastion Point became the fire lighter for the first substantial Treaty examination, first by Aucklanders and then by the rest of the nation. By the time the occupiers were evicted 506 days later by the greatest show of police force used against New Zealanders in the 20th Century, most people knew that the Treaty was going to play a part in our lives, even if they were not sure how.

In his second claim before the Waitangi Tribunal (Wai 9) Joe Hawke and others outlined the case related to the disposal of the Orakei Block, the land deemed in the mid-19th century to have been inalienable. The outcome was unequivocally in their favour and Bastion Point in 1991 was finally transferred back into Ngati Whatua's hand by Act of Parliament. This was the one of first successful appeals to the Tribunal of any Maori iwi in the country and was the precursor for the many claims currently filed.

Let's for a moment pause to consider the first thing Ngati Whatua did when it took back the land.

The first thing it did was to give a huge chunk of Bastion Point back to Aucklanders. That's right, they gave it back to you and me for our unimpeded use. The land I am talking about is the whenua rangatira land. The land with the best views in all of Auckland. The land where Michael Joseph Savage rests. Ngati Whatua agreed to jointly manage this with the Auckland City Council (the same Council that had ordered the burning of their marae) for the benefit of all the people of Tamaki Makaurau.

When I therefore reflect on the mana of Ngati Whatua, I remained truly humbled. That a people who sought for 150 years to get some form of justice that recognised their cultural destitution, could in their moment of triumph, react with such generosity to those who dispossessed them is an act of munificent genius.

How for a moment can we as New Zealanders, in receipt of such insight into human affairs, begin preparation for marginalising them, our Treaty partners, once again?

How can we with the consciousness we have now of our history, be saying to future generations of our citizens, it is no longer your affair? We are done with that.

This is where the true heart of this debate lies. Not in the tawdry accounting of who gets what when, or whose version of the world must triumph.

When I talked earlier of the breathtaking decision of Pakeha, as the dominant group, to look again at our history and redress the wrongs where possible I spoke of mana: those characteristics of integrity, honour and respect. I celebrate these Pakeha attributes in my generation and my parent's generation. They in good faith took the risk to lift off the lid and look once again at our history, allowing all voices to be heard for the first time.

They did this not because they understood in its entirety where it might lead, but because there was an emerging consensus that this was the right thing to do. Their example points us to the wider picture, to pursue the greater good in our dealings with each other.

Today, this largely silent consensus is under threat. Some of the implications of this newly discovered history are hard to swallow. Their articulation has on the surface at least, unsettled the Pakeha centre of cultural gravity, reduced our confidence in our cross-cultural future. We are suddenly nervous about what we might lose, forgetting for the moment the enormous lift to our Pakeha mana secured by our actions as a just and open people.

My challenge to my fellow Pakeha is to return to your original instincts. This is a debate about pride in our achievements and self-belief. It about the soul of our nation that either recognises the seeds of its own genius and the consummate ability within ourselves to articulate and solve our own problems, or loses its nerve and resorts to a one size fits all solution.

So slick, so simple, so seductive. So wrong. Let's not let it happen.

This weblog posting is based on a public talk by Pat Snedden at St Benedict's, Newton, Auckland on Sunday 29 February 2004

Chicken soup for the little guy's soul

by Dave Williams 05

It's been a good week for the 'little guy'. Despite Monday's announcement that banking giant HSBC earned £7.7 billion before tax last year - that's a disgusting £244 a second - corporations have not won all the battles in the British media this week.

The day of the HSBC announcement, it emerged that Coca Cola's source for its UK 'Dasani' bottled water plant is tap water. Headline writers had a field day, borrowing heavily from Coke's 'The Real Thing' logo and drawing comparisons to Del Boy Trotter in the comedy Only Fools and Horses - who, in one episode, bottled water in Peckham, London (about 10 or 12 miles from Coke's Sidcup plant) and sold it to an unsuspecting public.

The Sun, which is more used to sex scandals involving footballers - an example of which graced the front page that day, incidentally - elevated the Coke ribbing to page 10, under the headline 'The Real Sting'. In typical Sun style, the next day's paper said the water failed the taste test with punters on Sidcup High Street (although it was relegated to page 20). 'Incredibly, nine out of 10 punters preferred the tap water,' The Sun said in mischievous italics.

A taster for the story also made the front of the Daily Mail. Inside, the paper compared Coke's 95p price at the shops for a 500ml bottle with the 0.031635p Thames Water charges to supply 500ml in the Sidcup area. 'This means Coca-Cola, which purifies and fortifies the water, is imposing a mark-up of around 3000 per cent,' the paper concluded.

The broadsheets got in on the act too. In that delightful, understated English style, The Telegraph's front page story mused while the ingredients for Coca-Cola are one of the world's best-kept secrets, the same cannot be said for Dasani. 'It comes from a tap. In Sidcup, to be precise.'

Speaking in The Times, a spokesman for the Food Commission said: 'You have to credit Coca-Cola with a large sense of humour. If anyone can tell the difference with tap water good luck to them. Your body won't notice any difference, but your bank balance will.'

While the papers didn't put the boot in to McDonald's, it seems the fast food colossus is bowing to the pressure of the little guy with the announcement it is scrapping Supersized meals.

The instant I saw the story I thought of Morgan Spurlock. Much to the disgust of his vegan chef girlfriend, he ate nothing but McDonald's food for 30 days to make his movie Super Size Me.

According to one report, after bingeing on everything Ronald's menu has to offer at least once - and supersizing when offered - the previously trim and healthy Spurlock spent about $US850, gained 24 pounds (11.5kg), raised his once-normal cholesterol levels by 65 points, sent his blood-fat levels out of the Playland roof and, in one of his doctor's words, turned his liver into paté.

It was the supersizing bit that I recalled clearly, harking back to those days when I worked at KFC and we always had to ask 'would you like - INSERT SOMETHING WHOLLY INAPPRORIATE HERE - with that?'. What kept us doing it was fear of the Mystery Customer, who would raid our store at random intervals. The supersize ethic, I'm sure, is bred out of that same fear in Maccas workers.

Spurlock's movie gained a lot of attention at the Sundance Film Festival and much was made of its inability to find a distributor in the States. So McDonald's is jumping the gun; good on them!

McDonald's is probably the highest profile case of the little guy having some noticeable effect on large, faceless corporations.

The 'McLibel' trial, in which McDonald's took five London activists to court, involved two years of dissection of the inner workings of the mega-chain. The company found itself on trial, ending up with egg on its face and a £10 million legal bill.

In 2002 it made the shock announcement that it had made a loss for the first time in its history but has since bounced back, thanks to a revised menu which helped change its unhealthy image. And then along came Spurlock...

The Coke and McDonald's stories are not the only accounts of the David v multinational Goliath fights this week.

A quick scan of this week's papers also revealed shareholder revolts at two huge conglomerates, Shell and Disney (and a rap over the knuckles for sportswear companies heading into the Olympic Games).

Indeed, the little guy has been surprisingly vocal in the last few years. Michael Moore's hugely popular books, as well as his award-winning movie 'Bowling For Columbine' have been whipping people into a political frenzy (including Americans!). Considering the previous topic, Eric Schlosser's book 'Fast Food Nation' deserves a mention, as does Naomi Klein's globalisation and sweatshop foray, 'No Logo'.

So he has found his voice and, it seems for now, he is making a difference.

While there are still a lot of issues in the world demanding our attention, it is worth looking back to a week like this and remembering that it IS possible to make a difference. Ironically it was Walt Disney who said: 'If you can dream it, you can do it.'

Standing Tall on the Low Road

by Matt Nippert

Witi Ihimaera sagely stirs more sugar into a cappuccino. It's clear he's got a knack for augury.

His most recent novel Sky Dancer, written in 2001 and published late last year, has a cocaine-snorting newsreader - preceding the trials of Darren McDonald.

The male lead is named and styled after Schwarzenegger - long before the muscled one added a press gallery to his permanent corps of entertainment reporters.

But his most prescient vision last November came during a discussion about cinema.

"I've got this wicked sort of expectation or hope," he confides in a prophetic ehisper, "that when your article comes out they'll both be up there."

He was, of course, willing that both Whale Rider and Lord of the Rings received nominations for Today's Academy Awards.

Score three from three for the man from Waituhi.

Ihimarea is associate producer for Whale Rider, but more importantly the author of the story on which it is based.

"Niki Caro made a damn fine movie out of my not-so-classic book, and in the process turned it into a classic."

A not-so-classic book? My fifth form teacher would disagree - it was force-fed to our class, for our own good, as part of the English curriculum.

"I wrote Whale Rider in three weeks." Cue jaw dropping: I had to study it for nine.

"A great movie has made a best-seller out of my book."

An international edition of the Whale Rider, translated into Finnish, Swedish, Japanese and German, has since sold more than 60,000 copies - more than quadrupling the number of sales back home.

He raves about director Niki Caro (and not just for the publicity tie-in). Peter Wells, another author whose was work adapted by Caro, (Memory and Desire) gave him some advice before the project began.

"Witi, she's so good, I had to fire myself from the project." Consequentially, Ihimaeara kept well out of the technical minutiae of filming, and emphasises the contrasts between the two 'kiwi' contenders: budgets ($625m versus $10m), shoot length (two years versus eight weeks), and origins.

"They're both New Zealand's, at the extremes. One was shot by a fantastic director - Peter - based on Celtic mythology and a well-known book. The other was shot by Niki Caro, based on Maori mythology, and a not-so-well-known book.

"When you realise that the film was made with that amount of money, with only one camera, sometimes two, with a cast that included only four actors who had ever acted before - and that it looks like that, and
that it tells the story so beautifully - it's just a
huge artistic achievement."

Oscar-nominated Keisha Castle-Hughes was not one of the four, and Ihimaera temains stunned at her achievements. "For that young actress o do what she did, with what? Two months preparation, no background, no nothing. To be able to be directed in such an honest way."

Despite Ihimaera's appreciation of pulp-film ("I'm a closet B-move addict"), the success of Whale Rider is something he attributes to a dearth of human cinema.

"It's something like the death of film: film story has collapsed on itself, it's cannibalising itself, they're all looking the same, telling the same story, have the same characters."

While essentially a fantasy film, Ihimaera sees Whale Rider, and other non-Anglo cinema "taking people to real places rather than film places", taking New Zealand along with them.

"Each one of our films, like each one of our books, creates a greater sense of confidence, a greater sense of international identity.

"I owe [Once Were Warriors] a great deal of thanks for showing that it was possible to make a film in New Zealand and have it transcend its nationality, its ethnicity, the boundary of its location to become an international success.

"The successes that we have in film have transformed the way in which we look at ourselves. Just to show you can be a success in Ekatahuna, and you can also be a success in Los Angeles."

The success of Whale Rider, a wholly indigenous effort, shows "that in New Zealand we can see our own fictions or fantasies, we don't need to do more Lord of the Rings. We can make our own fantasies cleverly enough, and wise enough, if we have the courage."

And courage is indeed needed in New Zealand arts - dreams of commercial success, even for established artists, are more unreal than any far-flung fantasy.

Ihimaera, despite being at the forefront of New Zealand literature and having won three Montana-Watties Book of the Year awards, does not earn enough from writing alone to support himself.

He teaches creative writing at the University of Auckland, full-time, and tries to show his students "the difficulties of life as a professional writer, as well as writing professionally."

Take for instance Sky Dancer. Launched on the back of massive publicity for Whale Rider, it has sold 6,000 copies - a figure publishing director for Penguin Geoff Walker says is "very, very good."

Royalties that flow back to Ihimaera amount to $21,000 - well below the national median income of $28,000.

Walker says there are very few professional novelists in New Zealand. "Goodness, I can only think of a handful. Most augment their writing with other work. They teach, work in universities or work at the corner dairy."

Michael King, eminent historian and editor or author of more than 30 books, said on receiving the Prime Minister's Award for Literary Achievement that "For most of us, if we manage to stay in the business of authorship we just manage to break even. There would be no possibility during my life of putting anything away such as a duperannuation fund."

Creative New Zealand's report 'Portrait of the Artist', released two weeks ago, painted an even more doleful picture. Without the trappings of fame, most New Zealand artists are poor and famished.

The survey of 1010 artists, including authors, reported a median income from $28,000 - almost always from a combination of artistic activity and part or full -time work.

78% wanted to spend more time working on their principal artistic occupation.

Ihimaera laments the tyranny of size that means writing a best-seller in New Zealand will only give a subsistence income - discouragement for the next generation of literary talent.

"Everytime I look at Maurice Gee or Patricia Grace's work, I'm always stunned as to what they've achieved. If they were working overseas, they would not be working. I would not be working. They would be
supported."

Still, Ihimaera's not giving up the pen. "It's not a lot of money, so we do it for love, we do it because we have this commitment."

And perhaps poverty breeds purity.

Ihimaera says there is a flipside to a lack of commercial success. "We are people who lead a truthful existence as artists. That should make us feel even more proud of the kinds of texts and the kinds of witness that we make of our society, because we want to do it."

In early May, when the tickertape has been swept away, and hype subsided to long-forgotten hangover, Lord of the Rings and Whale Rider will again be brought together.

FX leviathan Richard Taylor and wizard of the word Ihimaera, will be awarded honorary doctorates courtesy of Victoria University.

Ihimaera (who says he "took nine years of C+'s to get a BA") and Taylor (who only got a place on his design course after someone else dropped out): a patent example of universities and the market being poor talent scouts when it comes to the arts.

Extremely New Zealand films

by James Littlewood

So I got an email flyer about Woodenhead from someone who knew someone who obviously knew director Florian Habicht. “We can’t afford a big publicity campaign” ran the text “so tell your friends …”. The next thing I knew, I was flat out on the couch staring 10.30 Friday night in the face, so off I ran to the late night screening.

I arrived just in time for the speeches, which involved a punk ballerina doing the do on the cobbly area in front of the Library to the circus tunes of a portable CD player, itself doing the do on the subject of volume. Then Warwick Broadhead got up and attired himself in the drapery prior to its removal from in front of the screen. He thoughtfully advised us on those parts of the film we would do best to applaud (his bits), and then advised us to touch those parts of ourselves we love most. Something about humping. Something about chasing Florian as he ran off with the camera. A very good speech it was. It’s hard not to love Warwick.

For those on employer-provided Internet connections but with no time, here’s the short version: Woodenhead is a wonderful film. Literally, full of wonder. However, as every artist has always said of every bad review they ever got: this is only one person’s opinion. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me but here’s one for starters.

I hope someone reminds me I said that the next time I pan something.

For those who shell for it themselves and want bang for their buck: here’s the longer version.

Firstly, some films it made me think about:

Eraserhead

The Price of Milk

Jean Cocteau’s Orphée and La Belle et la Bette

Breathless

Well-cinematefied readers will observe that four of these five films are in black and white. Coincidence? I think not. No-one needs reminding that this is the colour scheme of choice for auteurswith a truly healthy, hands-on and rigorous grip of the unconscious.

More what it has in common with these films is a sense that actually, goddammit, we will reinvent the wheel, that films not only can be made by uniquely tailored production techniques, but that they ought to be, that (therefore) not all films need look or sound the same (nor should they, although most do), nor should audiences regard them as such. Little chance of that happening with a film as unique as this one.

Fortunately for Habicht, Woodenhead is nowhere near as tedious as the greater majority of Goddard’s footage. Well, no great achievement there of course (possible exception: Alphaville, in parts). But while he and cinematographer Christopher Pryor succeed in creating a mise en scene that is genuinely seductive, they simultaneously remind the audience that it knows what it is doing, that it too has a role to play in helping the imagery and the narrative stumble along, just as a good film helps us to stumble through and understand our own little imagined lives.

How?

Call it magic realism (mythical colonial discourses from Gabriel Garcia Marquez to Whale Rider). Call it fantasia (drug-psychoses-in-a-not-bad-way). Call it an oedipal sex romp (all roads lead to Rome, or at least Thebes). Young Pakeha artists – especially visual and literary artists – face an identity dilemma: to regard self as Pakeha or European. I’ll avoid getting into the fray when Michael King has done it so brilliantly, twice (or more). But the decision has to be made. Niki Caro and Harry Sinclair: Pakeha. Florian Habicht: European.

It’s not just that lots of his characters have Germanic names. The entirety of Woodenhead’s imagery and narrative logic is grounded in European traditions. For example:

Fairy tale (especially Hansel and Gretel)

Circus

Biblical imagery

Ballet

The missionary position (yes)

Orientalism

The overall effect is one of a mythical New Zealand as German colony. And as with any decent colonial fairy tales, the colonised is absent. Which is a polite way of saying there are no Maoris in it. Nothing wrong with any of this. After all, Shakespeare himself only wrote one Jew and two or three black people into his 30-odd plays (thank God for Don Selwyn).

None of this is to say that Florian’s film is anything other than a New Zealand one. Nor that he’s not interested in New Zealand as a subject. It’s just that he has swum against the flooding tide of artists who seek out ever more specific examples – and samples, and specimens – of the New Zealand landscape (beneficiaries, pianists, warriors, whale gods and scarfies for example) and who then hold these aloft to the world stage as universal markers from afar.

This same tide obsessively teaches its young and hungry that the way to tell the big story is to tell the little story, that the way to tell the little story is through characterisation, that characters are comprised of verbs not adjectives, that voice-overs are cop-outs for flawed narratives, that you save your best ‘til last, enter the scene late and leave early, keep ahead of your audience and that if you follow these simple rules, you will then become rich and your dedicated audience will indulge your breaking of them; but if not … you’re on your own, kiddo.

Florian swims against this tide.

As media theorist Stephen Turner (watch this space) has suggested, the national identity project has wedged itself such a secure place in New Zealand’s screen production culture, that it has tended to eclipse other subject forms. Thus, Florian Habicht making a feature that floats poetically through the subject of unconscious sexual desires, that frees itself of current narrative conventions and polite ethnic considerations (particularly fashionable in the international funding circuit) constitutes a landmark of authorial integrity in New Zealand film making.

I suppose I should mention a few things about what you can expect to see in it.

The first thing you’ll notice is a highly engaging relationship between dialogue and image. Ironically, what makes it engaging is its level of disengagement – all the sound including dialogue was recorded before any film rolled. This creates a sort of disconnection between the only two senses that matter in film, and that allows you to both see and hear the film better than you can when the two are synchronised.

You’ll see two of my all-time favourite Auckland actors: Warwick Broadhead and Matthew Sunderland. I don’t know if Warwick will take this as a compliment or not (it’s meant as one), but his film character – a junk yard boss – somehow comes across as being surprisingly closely studied, detailed and naturalistic. You’ll still want to applaud his aria though. He saves his best until last.

Matt strikes me as New Zealand’s most dedicated and least compromising actor. The only thing he won’t – or can’t – do as an actor is tripe. From Inside Out’s Holy Sinner to last year’s Blasted at the Silo, Matt is one of the few performing artists who could truly be said to have the power of transformation. He embodies his characters down to their very viscera, and his as well. Relative newcomer to acting David Hornblow is another who puts his guts into his performance, quite visibly. Both are also stunning in Gregg King’s Christmas.

You’ll see Christopher Pryor’s cinematography, which is beautiful. Words like sublime and ethereal come to mind. Rich and deep in allegory. Combined with Teresa Peters’ detailed art direction (she also co-stars), the look glides effortlessly from psycho-erotic thriller to biblical metaphor to kitchen sink tub thumper to psychedelic encounters of the 3rd kind: everybody making music.

And you’ll hear Mark Chesterman’s music, as strange as God and as normal as a day at the beach. You’ll want to buy the original soundtrack afterwards, so it’s just as well you can.

And you’ll see Teresa Peters (who also art directs) and Nicholas Butler in the lead roles as the hapless, human innocents. How to describe their screen presence? Transcendent. Radiant. Rogers and Astaire, Di Capprio and Winslet, Houston and Costner, Curtis and Munroe, Cormack and Urban, Owen and Morrison, Harrelson and Lewis … all rolled into one. They dance. They talk. They sulk. They do crimes. They shag. They eat like there’s no Tampopo. You’ll see what I mean.

So, that was the long version. Bear in mind that the cinema will pull it as soon as the audience numbers drop off, and for New Zealand films (like the music in decades past) this tends to happen glumly fast. So if you wait to hear the reviews, you’ll probably miss it. But if you hurry and get down there, you’ll be encouraging the cinema to keep it open another day, and helping someone else to see it, and that in turn will help them sell it overseas. Remember, they don’t have a Hollywood-sized campaign budget to tell you in what way you’re supposed to like it.

PS: Thanks to those who wrote in about my earlier blogs. My formatting still slows me down a bit (sorry Russell) but I’m learning.