Te Tiriti, Te Papa, and Tangata Tiriti: a counter-narrative to the colonial regression that affects us all.
Te Tiriti o Waitangi offered newcomers to Aotearoa belonging based on relationship with Māori and a connection to this land. The English version, which is not upheld in international law, mirrors the European colonial worldview of the time: that white people deserve the world’s land and resources, Indigenous peoples are lucky to have Europeans to rule over them, and belonging is only possible through conquest and domination. In the colonial worldview, land is not something you have a deep connection to; it is something to be owned.
Te Tiriti offered newcomers the provision to govern themselves, just as hapū governed themselves and often had treaties with other hapū over affairs that affected them both. The English Draft (which was never intended to be signed) misses all of this. It was subsequently used by later generations of settlers to justify land theft, war, and the imprisonment and murder of those who resisted.
When Te Papa placed Te Tiriti and the English Draft in its foyer and gave them equal weighting against the advice of Māori cultural advisors, it perpetuated colonial control over how Māori are allowed to tell their own history. We want their haka, but we don’t want to know Māori, or the history of this country, on anything but Pākehā terms. Descendants of the original colonisers are still insisting on acting like colonisers, and controlling this narrative is critical to perpetuating this behaviour.
Generations from now Te Wehi Ratana and his peers will be widely celebrated for their act of courageous vandalism. Monuments that stand testament to colonialism have been toppled around the globe. In Aotearoa, no monument stands as tall or as proud as the English Draft document enshrined in Te Papa. As a nation we had already dropped ‘Tongarewa’ from the building’s name, the lifeforce gone when it became clear the history of our nation was only to be explored within acceptable, Pākehā constraints. If MONZ wish to regain a Māori name, they will need to earn it.
At the heart of Te Papa’s repeated refusal to rethink their exhibit is the fear that without conquest, all Tauiwi — and particularly Pākehā — would no longer belong in this nation. This fear stems from over a century of clinging to colonial narratives, which Te Papa’s exhibit has been reinforcing. In contrast, to say ‘He Tangata Tiriti au’ is to place yourself in Aotearoa’s story. It encompasses our colonial past while rejecting the white supremacy behind it. It acknowledges our connection to this land was born out of partnership with Māori. Everybody belongs because of Te Tiriti.
In the colonial worldview, land is not something you have a deep connection with; it is something to be owned. The flaw in this thinking is that I, and many others who descend from these early colonial settlers do feel a deep connection to this land — as do countless others whose families have moved here from all over the world. We feel a deep connection to this land we call Aotearoa, have ancestry from across the globe, and gladly call ourselves ‘He Tangata Tiriti au’.
Māori self-determination is being assailed from every angle by this new government. At the same time, the narrative of how Tauiwi (non-Māori) believe they can act is also boldly regressing to old colonial behaviour. We have come too far on our partnership journey with Māori for colonial voices to define how Tangata Tiriti behave. We do not see Māori as a threat to our identity, but as integral to it. We reject the narrative that the only way for tauiwi to do well is for Māori to do badly, or that Pākehā comfort depends on Māori invisibility.
With that collective belonging comes collective responsibility:
to remove obstacles created to prevent the self-determination and wellbeing of Māori, to govern ourselves well, and join Māori in caring for this land and its oceans for future generations. There’s one more: to bring others with us on our Tangata Tiriti journey. We need to extend the same graciousness that Māori people have extended to so many of us. We didn’t begin our journeys because of facts, or a convincing argument — although it might have started with learning some of our history. Often, we began them because of a friendship. A family member. Who shared their story with us, and we trusted them enough to listen, even if it didn’t fit our preconceived ideas at the time.
In the 70s, Tauiwi allies were asked to show solidarity by working with their respective communities. We are the inheritors of decades of Te Tiriti education and solidarity work for constitutional transformation. Global movements like BLM challenged Pākehā to see whiteness, and all Tauiwi to understand white supremacy as systems we participate in. The current horror on our screens illustrates how settler colonialism is about the expansion of territory and resources through conquest, shocking indifference for Indigenous peoples, and colonial insistence on how this narrative is told.
The stories of how we came to stand with Māori in opposition to colonial narratives are powerful. We saw something far better in a future as Tangata Tiriti, and leapt at the chance to leave the colonial narrative. Our stories can help others begin the same journey. Together they form a giant quilt that reaches through time and tells a story of belonging and partnership. It tells of how we came to be stitched into the fabric of Aotearoa through Te Tiriti. Quilts offer comfort, refuge, and a sense of home. Their beauty lies in how pieces with endless variation in colour and pattern can be brought together to form a cohesive whole. A Te Tiriti perspective rejects the need for all Tauiwi to comply with Pākehā norms.
Imperfections are part of what makes a quilt lovely, and an act of love. Our stories are equally messy, because they involve our relationships, working on ourselves, and making mistakes as we learn together. Each time we resist colonial narratives or share our journeys, the quilt grows. Each time we protest or share our stories, we are reimagining a way for Tauiwi to live alongside Māori, a future where the proposed policies and rhetoric of our new government would be inconceivable, and where our national museum celebrates our collective belonging, not through conquest, but through Te Tiriti.
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