16 March 2016

Marama Fox. Maori Party Co-leader

SPEECH: First reading of Te Ātiawa Claims Settlement Bill

Much has been said about Te Ātiawa and the massive loss of land, the cultural genocide, and the situation that we find ourselves in today because of the injustices of the past, and so I do not want to deliberate on those things any more, but I want to concentrate my comments on a couple of areas that give some context and some personal acknowledgment to just what that meant to these people and to us as a nation.

I want to start, if I might, by reading from the text of the Suppression of Rebellion Act 1863 because the words themselves give gravity to exactly what happened here. It says:

“Whereas a combination for the subversion of the authority of Her Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government has for some time existed amongst certain Aboriginal tribes of this colony and has now manifested itself in acts of open rebellion and whereas persons in prosecution of the said rebellion have committed murders on some of Her Majesty’s subjects engaged in their peaceful occupations have pillaged their homesteads and burnt and destroyed their property and whereas the ordinary course of law is wholly inadequate for the suppression of the said rebellion and the prompt and effectual punishment of those who are guilty of such atrocity and outrage.

It shall be lawful for the Governor from time to time during the continuance of the said Rebellion to issue his orders to all persons whom he shall think fit to authorize in that behalf, to take the most vigorous and effectual measures for suppressing the said Rebellion in any part of this Colony which shall appear to be necessary for the public safety, and for the safety and protection of the persons and properties of Her Majesty’s loyal Subjects.”

Hence martial law was enacted, empowered by the Governor, where and however he saw fit. Anyone taking up arms or aiding, or, in fact, at any time the Governor determined any action to be rebellion, martial law could be enacted. What did that mean? Anyone determined to be in breach of this Act was then determined to be committing an act of war or treason. They could be put to death, held in penal servitude, arrested, detained in custody, or be subjected to any other action determined necessary, including land confiscations.

The second part of this kōrero I want to attribute to Danny Keenan, who I understand is here. I recognise him and also Wikitoria, his mother, who is not here with us but is certainly here in spirit, I am sure. I want to recognise the kōrero that he wrote in the Mana magazine, because it was the first time I ever heard of Wīremu Kingi.

So Mr Keenan quotes the historian Ann Parsonson in describing the rangatira Wīremu as “a chief of great influence and authority, who stood on his dignity and kept his distance from those he saw as careless of Māori rights”.

When he died in 1882, though, the Taranaki Herald described him as a “turbulent chief to whom may fairly be attributed the difficulties and troubles Taranaki has passed through”.

By the time of his death in 1882, in addition to being left virtually landless, the people of Te Ātiawa had been subjected to wrongful imprisonment, alienation from the whenua, death through battle and through lengthy incarceration, poverty, and then, furthermore, this ongoing mistrust—demonised by the local settlers and authorities of the time.

However, in 1927 the royal commission charged with investigating the confiscation, said of Wīremu and his people that they were not in rebellion against the Queen’s sovereignty: “The Natives were treated as rebels and war declared against them before they had engaged in rebellion of any kind, and in the circumstances they had no alternative but to fight in self-defence. In their eyes the fight was not against the Queen’s sovereignty, but a struggle for house and home.

I think that fairly and clearly sums up exactly what has happened here: determined to be in rebellion, and then absolutely shown that that was completely wrong. I just want to conclude with an acknowledgment of the Land Wars petition that has come to the House.

The Land Wars petition wants to find a day—and we have had “Parihaka Day” proposed up in the members’ bill ballot, but, you know, we will discuss that.

The Land Wars have been called Land Wars because to call them the Māori wars or the Māori land wars does an injustice. People think that Māori fought against the Crown, fought against settlement, fought against sovereignty. This is an example of where that is exactly not the case—that is exactly not the case. They defended their rights for house and home.

Until we acknowledge in our own country that the first war we engaged in was here in our own whenua, enacted upon the people indigenous to this country, then we cannot move forward and overcome the issues in the New Plymouth District Council, where they blindly cannot see that representation will benefit them, not inhibit them—where we cannot even get two street names named for those Māori words; people go “Oh, my goodness, how will I pronounce them?”

Danny’s words in recognition of Wīremu Kīngi and the Suppression of Rebellion Act themselves clearly outline the injustices of the Crown and our people’s overwhelming resilience, struggle, tenacious attitude, and ability to roll with the punches and move on. Here we are, in all humility, willing to work and try again with the people who continue to try to suppress us. I want to acknowledge Te Ātiawa.

ends

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