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National Party deputy leader Paula Bennett and Labour Party MP Willie Jackson.
National Party deputy leader Paula Bennett and Labour Party MP Willie Jackson.

ĀteaMay 6, 2019

The cruelty behind Willie Jackson’s attack on Paula Bennett’s Māori identity

National Party deputy leader Paula Bennett and Labour Party MP Willie Jackson.
National Party deputy leader Paula Bennett and Labour Party MP Willie Jackson.

Willie Jackson’s comment last week that Paula Bennett wasn’t Māori enough may have been just the usual petty parliamentary barbs, but risks hurting a vulnerable group of Māori struggling with their identity, writes Graham Cameron.

I was seventh form (year 13 if you prefer) when the Iwi Transitional Agency visited my high school in Christchurch. This forerunner of Te Puni Kōkiri came as part of their regular end of year rounds to encourage Māori students to apply for scholarships to go on to higher education. Like all Māori students in our school, I was called to the library and encouraged to connect with my iwi and hapū throughout the country to see what support was available.

There was only one problem: I didn’t know I was Māori.

My life took a different path that day. For the last 26 years, I have taken a journey to reclaim our reo, to find my place in our whakapapa, to rebuild relationships and a role at our marae, to find land again for us on our turangawaewae and to raise our tamariki as the heirs to everything that was lost.

So the fog of words that descended on parliament at the beginning of May as National’s Paula Bennett accused Labour’s Willie Jackson of racism for questioning her Māori identity was an echo of a deeply personal experience for me. Yet in Wellington, amidst that wave of accusations and counter-accusations was an insidious reality: there was no real emotion or pain – just political opportunism. This is no debate about identity; 26 years on, any young person whose world has been turned upside down by a revelation that they are Māori will find no support for them in this bit of theatre.

It all began with a rather poor speech by the minister of employment, Willie Jackson, in the General Debate on the first of May. Loosely connected with the workers’ rights movement commemorated on May Day, Jackson started by lauding Labour’s efforts for workers in the regions. He then turned to belittling National’s record for workers and took the opportunity to comment on their disunity. He started with their leader and then took a sharp turn to this:

“Look, I understand, most of the Māori in the National Party are useless. We understand that. Apart from our good man Nuk Korako who is going today. What a good man, it’s so sad he’s being booted out of the National Party, you know, because he supports tino rangatiratanga and the Māori in Labour. So the only good ones in there, Nuk, Shane Reti because he delivered Peeni Henare’s babies, and Harete Hipango, that’s about it. The rest are useless. Paula, well she doesn’t know if she’s a Māori, some days she does, some days she doesn’t, Dan Bidois, he needs to go back to Italy, and Jo Hayes, Jo wouldn’t have a clue. A great example of that with Jo was when she did her Whānau Ora attack on us and failed miserably. She was even told to shut up by Nuk…

“So I want to say to the National Party today who are split and divided; yes, you have useless Maoris [sic] but the good one is going today, one of the best is going today, Nuk Korako, however we’re backing Simon, please get that message to him, because he’s desperate, we saw it today, he desperate there grovelling for more support, shocking the way he was insulting us, but he’s from Ngāti Maniapoto, I’m from Ngāti Maniapoto and I’m obliged to help him.”

It was a really poor speech. It wouldn’t even make a good talkback radio tirade. Still, Paula Bennett decided to feign outrage and call Jackson out as racist for saying “she doesn’t know if she’s a Māori, some days she does, some days she doesn’t.” Commenting on that, she said “It’s kind of like saying if we’re not like you, and fully entrenched and able to speak the language, then in your mind, we’re lesser Māori.”

Bennett’s analysis was confirmed by the blunt criticism of her by Labour MP Peeni Henare during Question Time:

“I’ve always felt that you have to reach a threshold of need, participation and contribution in Māori Kaupapa. If you don’t, of course, questions are going to be raised… I haven’t seen her on the marae; I haven’t seen her dry dishes, I haven’t seen her do a karanga – therefore, it should be raised as a question.”

With friends like these, Jackson barely needed Bennett’s criticism. Nevertheless Bennett is absolutely right; that’s exactly what Jackson and Henare are saying. They are saying that the Labour Party’s Māori MPs are – along with Nuk, Shane and Harete in the National Party – the “good ones.” By their standard, “good” Māori are those who ally themselves with Māori communities, who make an active contribution in those communities, and who support “pro-Māori” or “kaupapa Māori” positions.

They are not questioning that she has whakapapa but they are questioning her right to identify as Māori.

Against this standard, to be Māori is a political identity, not a whānau identity. To just identify as a member of a whānau is not adequate to be considered a good Māori; you need to be a part of the political struggle as well.

Which is a dangerous and damaging position to hold. Jackson and Henare are (inadvertently) promoting commitment to a homogenous Māori nationalism as more laudable than identifying as Māori. This moves us a step along a path from rich diversity of expressions in our culture to an unquestioned ritualism and from multiple experiences of identity to a tyranny of an oligarchy based on knowledge and expertise. Which is ironic given Jackson’s position in urban Māori communities.

Like some of you, I know what it means to not know if I am Māori from one day to the next. Sometimes it was too hard to learn the language. Sometimes I found it easier to be with friends than with whānau. Sometimes I thought my kids would get more opportunities in mainstream schools. Sometimes I sided with government agencies over our Māori community.

Bennett should never have been attacked in this manner. If she identifies as Māori, that should be enough for anyone.

This was a grim interaction devoid of real emotion or any sense of import. Bennett, Jackson, Henare and then Winston Peters lined up along party and coalition lines and took potshots at each other. Nasty words were flung across a hopeless political divide. There was no consideration that there might be a group of people in our community struggling in first year language classes; squinting at whakapapa put on Facebook groups they joined in the hope of finding out more; being bullied at school for being brown; and being rejected by Māori who mock them for being too white. There are no spokespeople for you in a parliament that is about party over representation.

So for those whom Jackson’s words hurt, please remember: kāore koe i ngaro, ko koe he kākano i ruia mai i Rangiātea. You will never be lost, for you are a seed sown in Rangiātea.

Keep going!
(Photo: John Miller)
(Photo: John Miller)

ĀteaMay 2, 2019

Merata Mita: the godmother of indigenous film

(Photo: John Miller)
(Photo: John Miller)

Merata Mita created groundbreaking films during some of the most divisive moments in New Zealand history, earning her a reputation as a pioneer overseas and a trouble maker at home. Nine years after her death, her son Hepi Mita has made a documentary about the immense legacy she left behind.

Hepi Mita (Ngāti Pikiao, Ngāi Te Rangi) was only a child when his mother directed Mauri, the first dramatic feature ever to be written and directed by a Māori woman. He is now an archivist, 32 years old, and has directed his first film, Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen, a documentary about his late mother’s life.

“There were a lot of people who knew my mum for her activism and ‘radical years’ and then there was another group who knew her for her mentorship and her filmmaking and her work overseas, and those two groups didn’t have a lot of overlap. It was gratifying being able to explore both of those groups,” he says.

It could be said that Hepi has filmmaking in his blood, as the son of Mita and New Zealand filmmaker Geoff Murphy (Utu, Goodbye Pork Pie). But while he remembers growing up around the film industry, he admits he was somewhat sheltered from his mother’s early work and says his documentary taught him a lot about his family.

“Interviewing my older siblings, being the youngest in the family, it took a lot of courage for me to have a conversation with them eye-to-eye as opposed to the tuakana/teina dynamic of me being the baby and being treated as the baby.

“It settled it for my relationship with my siblings and understanding where they come from and their life experiences. The best phrase that I ever got from one of my family members who participated in the documentary was that it was like receiving free therapy.”

Merata Mita editing Patu! in 1983. (Photo: Gil Hanly)
Hepi Mita viewing rolls of 16mm film for the documentary. (Photo: Chelsea Winstanley)

The film explores both the empowering movements that Merata captured, and some of the heartbreak behind-the-scenes in her family. It includes the powerful image of Hepi sitting in an archive library reading an interview his mother gave before he was born. It tells of the loss of her child, a son named Lars who Hepi never knew existed.

“When I first read that passage, we were in a situation where my sister’s own son had passed away and it was really fresh right after that when I found that book and my mum’s words about having to come to terms with the bereavement of your own child.

“In a strange way, we were in quite a tragic situation and even though what my mum wrote in that book was extremely sad, that story came into our lives during a time when we needed to hear those things.”

Luckily, this part of his mother’s life was documented, but many other parts weren’t. Hepi says he regrets not asking more questions when she was alive. Talking to his siblings provided some information about Merata’s life as a young mother, but he says there are still gaps in her story he wishes he could fill.

“There are still so many things that if I ever did get the chance to ask, I would have. But that being said, you live your life and you move on and it doesn’t strike you to ask these big questions and talk about the elephant in the room.

“I only saw the tip of the iceberg, I didn’t see all the sacrifice that was underneath that. When I started to uncover that, it was like my naivety being torn apart. As far as our family dynamic goes and our relationships, I feel like this is the best thing I could have ever done to provide context to that.”

Merata and Hepi, aged 3. (Photo: NZ Herald staff photograph, 22 September 1989)

In an archival clip recorded in 1986, Merata tells an interviewer that she is unsure whether her work was ‘worth it.’ Hepi says through stories of the mental and sometimes physical trauma his siblings endured because of some of Merata’s work, it became clear to him why his mother felt this way.

“It was still very bittersweet for her up until the very end and she questioned the impact that it had on her family.

“I always viewed her as a superwoman but to hear that she at times doubted the merit of her work and the impact that it had on her family, to me made her more loveable. It showed me her aroha for us was so strong that it superseded the reputation that she received because of her mahi.”

Merata Mita died in 2010, halfway through the process of creating a documentary about child abuse in Māori communities. The film, Saving Grace – Te Whakarauora Tangata was completed and released later on Māori Television in 2011. Hepi says despite her working till the day she died, she had a lot more to give.

“There were films and projects that she wanted to do here in New Zealand, stories about Māori women that she wanted to tell and never got the chance to. I think she would be proud of the people whom she mentored and the work that’s being done today and the films that are coming out now by those people. At the same time, I think she would be bitterly disappointed to be the only Māori woman to have written and directed a feature film solely. And that was in 1988, more than 30 years ago.”

She was a pioneer in indigenous filmmaking and helped many indigenous filmmakers tell their stories. Four of New Zealand’s top 10 grossing films have Māori directors, eight of 10 have heavy Māori or Pacific influence. 

In January this year, director Ava DuVernay’s (A Wrinkle in Time, 13th) film company Array, which aims to promote work by women and people of colour, acquired the documentary to distribute in the US, UK and Canada. Hepi says his mother’s work was crucial in creating a space where indigenous stories could be told without over-explaining their meanings to white audiences.

“Within her life she got past the point of having to explain. You can indulge in the luxury of telling a story but when she first started she didn’t have that luxury or privilege. It was more of a fight for survival, a betrayal of the situation that Māori and indigenous people were in. Now we’re in a place where that portrayal and explanation has been done and we can begin to move on, branch out and entertain. Whatever we want to do with it, we aren’t limited in our scope.”

Merata: How Mum Decolonised the Screen is in cinemas May 12.