spinofflive
The famous red gates of Turangawaewae Marae (Image: Supplied/ Jeff Evans. Additional design: Archi Banal)
The famous red gates of Turangawaewae Marae (Image: Supplied/ Jeff Evans. Additional design: Archi Banal)

ĀteaMay 5, 2023

Why Phil Goff’s dismissal of the Māori king was more than a faux pas

The famous red gates of Turangawaewae Marae (Image: Supplied/ Jeff Evans. Additional design: Archi Banal)
The famous red gates of Turangawaewae Marae (Image: Supplied/ Jeff Evans. Additional design: Archi Banal)

It might look like he forgot a few pleasantries but Goff’s actions are simply the latest in a long history of ignoring Māori.

Ahead of King Charles’s coronation, a gathering of New Zealand attendees took place at the High Commission in London this morning. The event was hosted by High Commissioner Phil Goff and attended by Kiingi Tuheitia, along with dignitaries like Governor General Dame Cindy Kiro, Dame Rangimārie Naida Glavish and prime minister Chris Hipkins.

During the event, first in te reo Māori and then in English, Kiingitanga chief of staff archdeacon Ngira Simmonds addressed the room, to scold high commissioner Phil Goff for dismissing tikanga Māori and offending Kiingi Tuheitia over the course of the proceedings. 

“I’ve actually just expressed significant disappointment at what has taken place here,” Simmonds said. “When that happens, the experience that we feel as Māori are pushed down in the life of our nation and Pākehā are lifted up.”

That disappointment revolved around Goff forgetting to perform a karakia to open the event, and then going on to say that no one in the room had experienced a coronation before. “I don’t think Māori can stay silent when we experience things like we did this afternoon,” Simmonds said.

Phil Goff later apologised for not following protocol.

Some have described the situation as a faux pas, others have described it as more than just a mere oversight – so why exactly was this all so bad?

  • Firstly, opening with a karakia is really important in Aotearoa and it’s usually incorrect to skip that regardless of who is at an event

……but especially when a Māori monarch is there and it’s for such an occasion as weighty as this. While this event took place in the UK, and could easily be dismissed as simply a “when in Rome”-type situation, the New Zealand High Commision is still a representative of the New Zealand government and of our country overseas. “Our point of difference is our tikanaga from home that we take with us,” Rahui Papa, kaikoorero for Kiingi Tuheitia told RNZ. 

  • Kiingi Tuheitia is a king and, for all intents and purposes, a peer of King Charles

The lack of recognition of the significance of karakia to Māori and lack of acknowledgement was taken so poorly because of the status of Kiingi Tuheitia and of the history behind that position. The Kiingitanga or Māori King Movement emerged among a group of iwi in the central North Island as a mechanism to protect Māori land ownership and constitutional autonomy by establishing roles similar in status to those of the British who colonised Aotearoa. The movement was properly established in 1858, when the first Māori king Pōtatau Te Wherowhero was installed, and has seen six monarchs since. While the Kiingitanga might be seen as a challenge to the British, it was for the most part born out of a sense of respect for the mana of the British monarchy of that time – the close relationship between the two royal families endures today.

Unlike the British monarchs, the kings and queens of the Kiingitanga technically operate in a non-constitutional capacity and without legal or judicial power within the New Zealand government. However, they play a crucial role politically and culturally by bringing together otherwise independent iwi to safeguard whenua and taonga, they also wield significant lobbying power and mana.

Speaking to Morning Report, Chris Hipkins acknowledged that the lack of recognition for Kiingi Tuheitia was flawed. “It was a mistake. I think it is important, you know, in these sorts of events that we do acknowledge the Crown-Māori relationship, and Kiingi Tuheitia clearly has a relationship with the Crown over here – we should acknowledge that.

“The fact that he’s here, I think, is a recognition of that, you know – here as part of the New Zealand delegation. I think it’s important that we acknowledge and celebrate that.”

Rāwiri Waititi of Te Pāti Māori told RNZ that Goff’s comments reflected that Aotearoa had “a long way to go” to properly recognise tangata whenua.

King Tūheitia with leaders of Protect Ihumātao. The Kiingitanga is an enduring symbol of Māori political independence. (Photo: Leonie Hayden)
  • Kings and queens of the Kiingitanga movement also have coronations 

Despite Phil Goff remarking that no one in the room had been to a coronation before, Kiingitanga chief of staff archdeacon Ngira Simmonds noted in his criticism that after King Charles’s coronation on Saturday, many people in the room will have actually been to three coronations.

“The complete disregard of the…coronation of Kiingi Tuheitia Potatau Te Wherewhero VII and of course his mother, the late Māori Queen. This will be Kiingi Tuheitia’s third coronation,” he said.

In 2006, Kiingi Tuheitia was crowned and in 1966, his mother and predecessor, Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu was crowned. Koroneihana, a celebration of Kiingi Tuheitia’s coronation, is held annually at Tuurangawaewae marae in Ngāruawāhia.

‘Media is under threat. Help save The Spinoff with an ongoing commitment to support our work.’
Duncan Greive
— Founder

This oversight by Goff has been taken as a dismissal of the Kiingitanga. As a fun thought experiment, imagine if the roles were reversed and King Charles arrived at the British High Commission in Wellington next week where someone made a sincere comment that this was everyone’s first coronation. It probably wouldn’t go down too well.

  • Snubs from the government aren’t a new thing for the Kiingitanga

This isn’t the first time the government has overlooked the Kiingitanga in situations tied to British monarchy. When Queen Elizabeth visited New Zealand in 1953, Tuurangawaewae, the marae of the Kiingitanga, was not included in the itinerary. Instead, the queen and duke were scheduled to drive past the marae gates. The National government at the time ignored booming appeals for a change of schedule to include a visit to meet Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu. Despite the ongoing brush-off, the Kiingitanga printed programmes and waiata practices took place. At last minute, on the morning of, the itinerary was changed to include a (strict) three-minute visit to the marae. Queen Elizabeth, greeted by waiata and haka, entered Māhinārangi, the carved meeting house at the marae, and ended up staying for 17 minutes.

Keep going!
Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi (Photo: Peanut Productions / Design Tina Tiller)
Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi (Photo: Peanut Productions / Design Tina Tiller)

ĀteaMay 2, 2023

Christchurch’s journey to becoming a more inclusive city

Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi (Photo: Peanut Productions / Design Tina Tiller)
Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi (Photo: Peanut Productions / Design Tina Tiller)

The efforts to rebuild Ōtautahi were co-governance in action, long before the term became a political boogeyman.

My immediate whānau – including my nana – lived in Ōtautahi in 2005. As someone raised on a Manukau marae, Nana felt incredibly out of place in Christchurch back then. She didn’t see many Māori spaces, nor did she see many tangata whenua faces. Six months in, Nana saw a Māori in Ōtautahi for the first time, a total stranger at the supermarket. She hugged them, and shed a few tears.

This was all before the earthquakes. Out of the rubble of Rūaumoko’s destruction, seeds of a more inclusive Christchurch have sprouted in the Garden City’s (re)built environment, nurtured by bicultural goodwill. 

What happened after the quakes?

The efforts to rebuild Ōtautahi were co-governance in action, long before the term became a political boogeyman. “The Christchurch Earthquake Recovery Act began a formal collaboration between city councils, regional councils, crown entities and iwi, which then became hapū”, says Te Marino Lenihan, an educator and former planning professional who represented Ngāi Tahu at the rebuild table. Not only did the inclusion of mana whenua lead to design interventions, it also “shifted culture here in Canterbury, in Christchurch in particular”. That cultural shift normalised mana whenua involvement in citywide decisionmaking. “What I hope we’ve learned is that when mana whenua do sit at the table, we add value to design. This helps create public realm spaces that are inclusive of our culture and therefore help make our people feel valued and welcome”, outlines Lenihan.

How can architecture and urban planning be Māori-inclusive?

In essence, it requires recognising and providing for te ao Māori principles and practices, particularly the recognition that all things are connected. “It’s all-encompassing, involving the building’s relationship to the place and to the natural world it interacts with – whether it’s the air, water, soil, plants or energy and material use”, says Jessica Halliday, an architectural historian and the director of Te Pūtahi Centre for Architecture and City Making. Lenihan adds: “The look and feel of the buildings are important, but its function and wider impact on our environment have to be deeply considered.”

He gives an example: “What’s energy efficiency got to do with Māori culture? It has everything to do with our worldview! If we are designing buildings that suck a lot of electricity – requiring another valley to be dammed to build another hydroelectric station – then it impacts on our relationship with our environment.” 

What does that look like in Christchurch?

Lenihan says the rebuild initiative he is most proud of was reorienting the city towards the Ōtākaro awa (Avon River). Originally, Christchurch’s riverfront properties turned their back to the awa. Why? Halliday says it was because imported Victorian-era ideas saw rivers simply as drains and open sewers. But te ao Māori greatly values awa as powerful ancestral forces that sustain life and serve as conduits for communication, trade and transportation. “Mana whenua valuing the river and turning the city around to face it resulted in amazing new public spaces along the river”, says Halliday. 

The Terraces, one of the many new great public spaces along the awa.
The Terraces, one of the many new great public spaces along the awa. (Photo: Ōtākoro Limited)

Did mana whenua always get what they wanted during the rebuild?

Improving the lives of mokopuna, including those who haven’t been born yet, is a foundational practice of te ao Māori that can be physically manifested through architecture and town planning. Lenihan explains that “our people, we think about tomorrow, not today. Let’s design and build for tomorrow.” Around Christchurch’s post-quake rebuild table, mana whenua tried to push that agenda – but they were not always successful, particularly regarding future-proofing the city’s infrastructure. “When it came to rebuilding our city’s rain and waste water pipes”, Te Marino says, “the powers at be took a ‘like for like’ approach which meant that our city’s horizontal infrastructure was only ever going to be fit for yesterday’s needs and far from what was required for tomorrow”.

Open Christchurch Festival

Taking place at many sites across Ōtautahi, the Open Christchurch festival is a weekend-long ode to the city’s architectural marvels, from private residences to educational facilities, churches, temples, administrative centres, marae and everything in between. Nine of the festival’s sessions showcase Māori buildings to express the growing Māori architectural presence in the city. Notably, the festival’s opening event features two panels of Māori designers reflecting on the past and future. 

Post-quake buildings: Tūranga and Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi

The Garden City’s (re)built environment is scattered with beautiful buildings influenced by te ao Māori, the crown jewel being Tūranga: Christchurch Central Library – which is featured during the festival. Halliday says the library team, as the client, “insisted that mana whenua were present from the beginning”. Alongside tohu Māori design elements, Tūranga embeds the whakapapa of Ōtautahi’s mana whenua through its orientation. The library is orientated in a way that highlights significant sites, including Maunga Tere (Mount Grey), Ngā Tiritiri o te Moana (the Southern Alps), Horomaka (Banks Peninsula) and HawaikiAlso, the process of whakamanuhiri (welcoming and entertaining guests) was carefully curated. From the entrance, the ascent into Tūranga symbolises Tāwhaki’s quest into the celestial realm in search of mātauranga. 

Tūranga: Christchurch Central Library.
Tūranga: Christchurch Central Library. (Photo: Adam Mørk)

Another example on display during Open Christchurch is the community mahi complex “Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi“. The complex is named after Te Ora Hou, a kaupapa Māori organisation that works with rangatahi. TOH and the rangatahi they work with were consulted during the design process by the architectural team, led by Amiria Kiddle. Kiddle learned about the organisation’s history and tried to imbue that into the design. To do so, her team worked with Ngāi Tahu artists to “add the extra layer of identity” to the project. Of particular note is the wonderful whakairo adorning the outer wharenui (seen below) and “the panels inside the wharenui that tell the story of Te Ora Hou”. 

Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi.
Whakairo at Te Ora Hou Ōtautahi. (Photo: Peanut Productions)

The Open Christchurch festival is showcasing more Māori buildings across the city, all of which can be seen here. One of them is a groundbreaking cultural icon from the past.

Pre-quake building: Te Puna Wānaka

Post-quake architecture has added to a legacy of inner city Christchurch buildings inspired and influenced by kaupapa Māori. This started in 1994 with the design and development of the Māori studies department at the Christchurch Polytechnic, originally named Te Mātauranga Māori and now known more commonly as Te Puna Wānaka.

“It was a groundbreaking building in our inner city”, says Te Marino, “a symbol of Māori identity and culture in a city renowned for being a stronghold of white power gangs, where skinheads roamed the streets and terrorised anyone who didn’t look or think like them”. A coalition of leaders from local Ngāi Tahu and Mata-a-waka communities (diasporic Māori who came to live in Ōtautahi) fought to construct Te Puna Wānaka. “They wanted a space where their language and culture could be learned and lived”, Te Marino says. 

Mana whenua polytechnic board members led the way, commissioning local architectural firm Royal Associates – led by the Royal father-son duo – to design Te Puna Wānaka. Back then, Perry Royal – now acknowledged as a senior Maori architect – was fresh out of architecture school and working under his father’s watchful eye. Part way through, however, his dad stood down after suffering a stroke, resulting in Perry becoming the boss. “For me, as a graduate architect, it was like being in a lolly shop”, Royal remembers. He was humbled by the board’s confidence in him, but was largely motivated by the brief his father set out: “What boundaries can we push?”

The original Te Puna Wānaka design, featuring a traditional wharenui.
The original Te Puna Wānaka design, featuring a more traditional wharenui form. (Photo: Perry Royal)

A Ngāti Whātua court case also inspired Royal. During the case, legendary scholar and leader Hugh Kawharu convinced the judge to let Ngāti Whātua adorn their side of the courtroom with their regalia – making a historically unfriendly space more inclusive of Māori. Te Puna Wānaka was an attempt to do the same given that the tertiary sector was, and largely still is, a very Eurocentric space. “We were trying to make it easier for future rangatahi to go through this institution and see their own face represented”, says Royal. 

Royal Associates’ final design was an unapologetic attempt to be “as far away from a square classroom as possible”, explains Royal. He loved physically manifesting Māori ideas into the design of Te Puka Wānaka, including “highlighting the natural world as part of the internal building.” To bring the outdoors inside, Royal Associates utilised architectural tricks like striking curvatures, big open entrances, “field-sized” skylights and clear sight lines to maunga

Te Puna Wānaka in its current form.
Te Puna Wānaka in its current form. (Photo: Supplied)

Embedded within the physical building is also an abstract expression of significant atua. Royal layered three atua across the complex, with the heavy base representing Papatūānuku, the middle being Pohohāruatepō and the seemingly untethered top embodying Ranginui. According to local pūrākau, Pohohāruatepō was Ranginui’s first wife before Papatūānuku. Alongside physical portrayals of atua, the building also clearly delineates between tapu and noa spaces. The groundbreaking design of Te Puna Wānaka laid the foundations not only for what was to come in post-quake Ōtautahi but more widely for Māori architecture within New Zealand’s tertiary sector.

Of late, Christchurch has become a more culturally inclusive city – one that I’m sure my nana would have felt more comfortable in than she did back in 2005. By seeing the progress Ōtautahi has already made, the Open Christchurch festival aims to inspire the next generation of Māori architects and urban planners to design a better, more inclusive future. 

Click here to see the full lineup of sessions during the Open Christchurch festival, and click here to see the te ao Māori sessions.