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Cavalry from the Parthenon Frieze (part of the Parthenon marbles), British Museum. Image: Marie-Lan Nguyen
Cavalry from the Parthenon Frieze (part of the Parthenon marbles), British Museum. Image: Marie-Lan Nguyen

ĀteaDecember 19, 2017

A Māori at the British Museum

Cavalry from the Parthenon Frieze (part of the Parthenon marbles), British Museum. Image: Marie-Lan Nguyen
Cavalry from the Parthenon Frieze (part of the Parthenon marbles), British Museum. Image: Marie-Lan Nguyen

Currently studying abroad, Miriama Aoake is coming face-to-face with international museum ethics and the exploitation of tangata whenua for taonga.

On the first floor in the northern wing of the British Museum there is a tiled urupā with glass tombs. Past the gift shop, through the twin doors and left at mo’ai (whanaunga from Rapa Nui), I saw my reflection in the headstone. Either from exhaustion, homesickness, or both, I collapsed on my knees and wept. I used the tears to wash my hands. I said a karakia under my breath. Two old women stood in front of me, inspecting the cabinet of static objects. “They were quite resistant. Such a pity – all gone now.” There, on the floor of the Living and Dying gallery, a stranger pronounced the death of Māori in the presence of a live one.

The museum was closing and I was kicked out. I came back to the grave a week later. There were no weeds to pull and the flowers hadn’t wilted. There was no embrace. I stared at the tomb and the tomb stared back.

At home, we are ghosts too. The obelisk atop Maungakiekie remains a memorial to Māori. We are the disobedient child that never learns. We’re supposed to be seen, not heard.

For the past three months, I have studied the museums of London. Exposure to marble busts, the Rosetta stone and sarcophagi of Egyptian nobility should feel like an honour. But it doesn’t. Museums continue to operate as national archives for colonial booty. In these circumstances, it is impossible to divorce appreciation of art from the context of violent imperialism under which they were acquired.

There is one sign, once inside the gallery, for our Torres Strait and Australian first nations mob. The sign is a disclaimer, warning visitors that imagery of their tīpuna who have passed is displayed with a 360-degree view. The sign is almost invisible and easily missed, only noticed after the fact. Their glass tomb sits adjacent to the Māori casket. In this gallery, the museum demonstrates that indigenous visitors are at best unexpected, at worst, unwelcome. I learned quickly criticism was not welcome. I was encouraged to check my response at the coatroom. I had to wonder if George Nuku’s plastic kōwhaiwhai panels was throwing subtle shade at these fullas.

Beyond Room 24, the top attraction on the colonial theft tour is the Parthenon Marbles. Ownership continues to be challenged, resulting in the longest known state custody battle. The Ottoman territory claimed Greece with a 400-year military occupation. To secure a victory against France in Egypt, they gave Lord Elgin, a British diplomat and hellenophile, an incentive. Lend us some troops and we will ensure the Sultan grants you a firman, a legal document granting permission to loot the Parthenon. Shortly after the first victory, Elgin had his firman.

Greece’s appeals for repatriation have been largely ignored. Britain has remained somewhat elusive as their justification has evolved. The firman is the heart of Britain’s legal claim, yet the only copy that remains is an Italian translation some have speculated is fake. Settler anxiety seems to etch at the fringes of the legality each time the claim is contested. This anxiety is evident in Aotearoa, too, each time a claim is filed with the Waitangi Tribunal.

The consistent defence the British Museum proffers is the universalist approach. Museums are centres of education which expose many to diverse histories they may not usually have witnessed were they housed in their original locations. They showcase human potential and its achievements. As the number one tourist destination in London, this response is somewhat expected. Britain is nothing if not protective of its economic investments.

This carved pare (lintel) is thought to be from the Hawke’s Bay and was taken to England in 1867. It is now part of the British Museum collection. Image: British Museum.

Museum ethics parallels the inclusiveness of tikanga in practice. Nurturing whanaungatanga is imperative. This is where Te Papa succeeds. It fosters a working relationship with Māori to ensure we benefit from sharing our dynamic histories. The British Museum has a penchant for neglecting such duties. Since 2013, the British parliament has ignored the Greek appeal to have UNESCO mediate the debate.

Indigenous methodologies are not a homogenising practice, but an inclusive framework which should be welcomed and adopted. Our perspectives restore equity to formerly exploitative relationships and ensure history has a healthy pulse. Premature death of culture is easily avoided.

The Greek claim is easily understood within this context. The Parthenon marbles are a taonga. At the time of their removal, state power was unfairly vested in a foreign empire who auctioned them to the highest bidder, without permission. Greek agency was abrogated and denied. The marbles are the prototype for imperial collectivism and cast a long shadow across the commonwealth. The British Museum needs to embrace and engage with criticism and foster relationships where possible. If the marbles are to escape a live burial, Britain must abandon its overt paternalism and return them to their Athenian heart.

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Protest in Australia for asylum seekers held in off shore detention (Photo: Asanka Brendon Ratnayake/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)
Protest in Australia for asylum seekers held in off shore detention (Photo: Asanka Brendon Ratnayake/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

ĀteaDecember 16, 2017

Manus Island: why we can’t keep our noses out of it

Protest in Australia for asylum seekers held in off shore detention (Photo: Asanka Brendon Ratnayake/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)
Protest in Australia for asylum seekers held in off shore detention (Photo: Asanka Brendon Ratnayake/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

In order to be a good friend we don’t owe Australia our loyalty – we owe them honesty, writes Graham Cameron.

The deputy prime minister of Australia, Barnaby Joyce, is grumpy with Jacinda Ardern because she offered a place to 150 of those refugees that Australia illegally imprisoned and then abandoned on Manus Island in Papua New Guinea.

He was so grumpy that he threatened us on Newstalk ZB, saying: “I think it’s best if you stay away from another country’s business. I find that. Otherwise they’ll return the favour at a time they think is most opportune for them.”

The implication is that our special relationship requires loyalty. Not honesty, not accountability, not encouraging the other to be their best.

But Joyce’s threat is empty. Australia has already returned the “favour” with its 2014 Migration Act changes. New Zealanders are the single largest group in Australia’s off shore detention centres awaiting deportation. They’ve also denied New Zealanders citizenship rights. The Special Character Visa has ensured the 650,000 New Zealand citizens in Australia are second class citizens: no voting rights; no access to support or benefits; no access to tertiary education subsidies; doubtful access to insurance.

Tāngata whenua particularly pay the cost of Joyce’s favours. A wildly disproportionate number of those awaiting deportation are Māori. Māori are 23% of the New Zealand citizens in Australia (a far higher percentage than in Aotearoa New Zealand) and suffering from the lack of support particularly in health and education.

Deportations, fewer rights for New Zealand citizens and human rights abuses on Manus Island are a disturbing pattern that, as a friend, we have to challenge. What we want is an Australian government committed to human rights because that is an Australian government that looks after New Zealanders.

However it seems to me that Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand have the kind of special relationship that I speak against in men’s anti-violence groups. Australia expects Aotearoa New Zealand to shut up, put up and do what it’s told.

In Joyce’s world, international relations means letting the neighbours do whatever they like as long as it doesn’t affect you. In Joyce’s world the United Nations are sticky beaks making comments about things that don’t concern them.

That might be the current Australian government’s impoverished position, but it is not the position of the New Zealand government. We have a long proud history of sticking our beaks into other people’s business where that business is abusive or unjust.

In 1945, Aotearoa New Zealand noted there were no references to human rights and fundamental freedoms in the proposed United Nations Charter and moved for their inclusion. Today the purpose of the United Nations in the Charter is: “To achieve international co-operation in solving problems of an economic, social, cultural, or humanitarian character, and in promoting and encouraging respect for human rights and for fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language, or religion.”

Since then, we have been an ardent supporter of international covenants and declarations, of the role of the United Nations, of the authority of international law and of the unalienable rights of human beings everywhere. Including on Manus Island.

Our prime minister should not, as suggested by Gerry Brownlee, “get off Australia’s back about its treatment of refugees and asylum seekers on Manus Island.” He demonstrates as callous and uninformed a view of international relations as his mate Joyce.

Aotearoa New Zealand is seen as a leader on human rights and fundamental freedoms. When we have chaired the Security Council, we’ve been regarded as an even-handed player.

So our prime minister stands in the tradition of New Zealand human rights leadership when she says she is concerned about Manus Island.

Australia are breaking international laws: it is illegal to coerce asylum seekers to return to countries where they were persecuted. When a country has effective control over the lives of people then it is responsible for what happens to them, even if they’ve moved them off shore; the lack of facilities, lack of medical care and discipline used in the detention centres amounts to torture.

Neither should we as New Zealand citizens “get off Australia’s back”. In particular, our whānau in Australia who are trying to gain access to their loved ones awaiting deportation need to see that Manus Island and the injustice of New Zealanders deportations are two sides of the same coin.

The coin is commitment to human rights. We have an obligation to speak out about Manus Island even though it is our mate who is doing it because it is a domino effect. The abuses start with undesirable refugees, then will find their way to deportation centres with ‘criminal’ New Zealanders languishing in them, and will then find their way to second class New Zealand citizens doing life in Australia.

Once you have decided some groups have less human rights than others, then it is easy to make that decisions about more groups.

Jacinda, Kelvin and all the rest, keep speaking about Manus Island, about deportations, about New Zealanders’ rights. Let’s see if we can encourage our friend and neighbour to get back on the straight and narrow. That’s what friends are for.

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