The journey of an early-twenties Pākehā who is trying to recognise the real history of New Zealand: a series.

Words by Liam Stretch

I write this in a slight state of bemusement. A couple of weeks back, a Facebook comment popped up on an article uploaded by a publication I follow. It was: "Only communists use the word Aotearoa". This left me angry and confused; what upbringing and education did this man have to be so irate about the use of the original – and dare I say it, the more beautiful – name of New Zealand? It seems these sorts of people find a way out of the woodwork and are utterly confused as to why change is needed. Now, as a society, we have the perfect opportunity to readdress how we look at our nation in a historical context.

I was lucky enough to have a history teacher who provided my class with a more in-depth view of Aotearoa history. We looked into the New Zealand Declaration of Independence, The Springbok Tour, The New Zealand Wars, year after year studying the Treaty of Waitangi, and even the xenophobia that Chinese miners faced in Otago during the Gold Rush; all this from a Catholic boys' school in Christchurch.

In retrospect, I probably owed Mr _______ a bit more kudos as we did loath each other – he distasted me for my talking and far too regular laughter and my respect for him was whittled away by his attempt to be 'one of the boys' – because upon talking to my peers at university, almost none of them had looked at these events, instead, studying international history more intently. So, venturing out into the big, bold world of university, believing that my ethos on life was sound, I was confronted with many challenges that come with an Arts Degree – now I can hear your scoffs from here, but the actual fact is, without Arts students we really wouldn't have too many critical thinkers. 

Alas, a tiny ego-boost aside, in my first year, I decided on a whim to take an Indigenous Studies course where other historical events were thrown my way for the first time. These included the Urewera Raids, the Dawn Raids, The Native Schools Act, and actual discussions about Te Tiriti o Waitangi as a flawed document, as well as several case studies on indigenous people from Siberia to Australia. 

The history I thought I knew about New Zealand was slowly dismantled before me. This falsehood presents a bit of an identity crisis for Pākehā – you grow up being taught that New Zealand is a world leader; we're a beacon of biculturalism, and we have no work left to do. Those misconceptions could not be further from the truth. With that being said, let's dive into the first iteration of this series on the history of this nation. Over this series we will discuss times our government didn't act appropriately (or were a pack of assholes), some historical injustices that Tangata Whenua and others are still paying the price for, and why the responsibility for change lies with us all. 

Firstly, let's take a glance at the Takaparawhā (Bastion Point) protests.

Well before the Ihumātao protests, another piece of Auckland's coastline was hotly disputed. This plot of land, at the entrance to Waitematā Harbour, holds great significance in the land theft history of Aotearoa. Originally land belonging to Ngāti Whātua, the crown was 'gifted' (codeword for stole) the peninsula in response to the Russian Scare of 1885; which was basically one of the biggest hoaxes in this nation's history – bear with, this is a rather large aside.

An Auckland newspaper played a War of the Worlds on its own readers to boost sales. They perpetuated that following a full-on Russo-Anglo war, a Russian war vessel, the Kaskowski, had entered the harbour, captured a ship, stolen the city's munitions and arms, and was holding several influential citizens hostage. Low and behold, it was falsified but, as we know, Aucklanders love a scandal – Bevan Chaung and Len Brown – so this got the residents scared and talking, leading to a full review of the country's coastal defences. A small outpost was built at Bastion Point, and in the following year, the land was procured for defence purposes and local Māori were forced into a small section of the property.

Once coastal defences were established at Bastion Point, the land remained in Crown Hands until 1941 when the area was handed over to the Auckland Council to be used as a reserve. Construction began that same year on a memorial to the late Labour Prime Minister, Michael Joseph Savage on one of the former gun emplacements.

In 1977, there was an attempted sale for high-value housing. This was ancestral land that iwi was hoping to get back, so, in response, the Orakei Māori Action Committee was established; led by Joe Hawk – who would later go on to win the Te Tai Tokerau seat for Labour – and comprised his hāpu and activists. 

The committee set up basic accommodation and began to occupy their land. During the period of a 506-day peaceful protest, there was an offer for Ngāti Whātua to purchase the whenua for $200,000 – around one-and-a-half million dollars in today's money. Obviously, this didn't sit well with Māori protestors, being forced to buy back land rightfully theirs, so they remained put. This, in turn, did not sit well with the current administration – that of Robert Muldoon. On day 507, 600 police and army personnel forcibly removed around 200 passive protestors and demolished buildings; including vegetable patches and marae. This was described by national news as more similar to a World War Two raid rather than an appropriate attempt to resolve a peaceful protest. Two hundred twenty-two people were arrested.

It took until the late 1980s when a Waitangi Tribunal hearing was held for the land to be mostly handed back to Ngāti Whātua. In popular culture, the protests and eventual upheaval were captured on the reel by the indigenous director and filmmaker, Mereta Mita. At the request of local iwi, she was chosen as opposed to a television journalist to film the unfolding events from a Māori lens to capture the real feeling of those at the forefront. The 27-minute, 1981 documentary, Bastion Point - Day 507, took two years to edit as no one wished to be involved with the project apart from the New Zealand Arts Council, which provided a small grant. 

Now, I shall set you some homework to do before the next in this series. Watch Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen – it's on Netflix at the moment. Based on the life of Mereta Mita, who had an international influence as a film director well before Peter Jackson, yet hardly anybody has heard of her. I implore you to see this; it will provide you with a few key points in New Zealand history for you to follow up yourself – including the Springbok Tour and Merata's film Patu!

Stay tuned, the next article in this series is on the Dawn Raids.