Police at Ihumātao on July 23, 2019, following the eviction of protestors.
Police at Ihumātao on July 23, 2019, following the eviction of protestors.

ĀteaJuly 23, 2020

One year to the day since the Ihumātao eviction, here’s how things stand

Police at Ihumātao on July 23, 2019, following the eviction of protestors.
Police at Ihumātao on July 23, 2019, following the eviction of protestors.

Today marks one year since police evicted mana whenua and members of the Protect Ihumātao campaign from land at Ihumātao, South Auckland. Justin Latif looks back at the standoff, the eviction, and what’s happened since.

Has it really been a year?!

Yes it really has. On July 23 2019, police descended on Ihumātao in South Auckland to begin evicting people who had been living on the whenua since 2016. To mark the anniversary, supporters are gathering at Ihumātao at 8.20am, the approximate time police began their eviction, for karakia to reflect on the events of the last year.

So why were police evicting people anyway?

In 2014 the government and Auckland Council designated this section of land a Special Housing Area, following which Fletcher Building bought the land for $19m with plans to build a 480-house development. A group of cousins who live in, and whakapapa to the area became aware of the plan and formed Save Our Unique Landscapes (SOUL) now called Protect Ihumātao, a group that’s now spent more than five years campaigning against the development.

The SHA designation and development plans were a continuation of a number of injustices Ihumātao had faced over decades, from the original land confiscation in 1863 through to the desecration of ancestral maunga for quarrying, the pollution of local awa and moana by the nearby wastewater treatment plant, and the encroachment of industry surrounding the Auckland International Airport.

The land intended for development is right on the edge of the Ōtuataua Stonefields Historic Reserve, which was recently given the highest heritage status by New Zealand Heritage. The area, which is treasured by both iwi and Pākehā alike due to its deep cultural and archaeological significance, was the first market garden location in New Zealand, and parts are considered wāhi tapu as they contain ancestral remains. Ihumātao was also a home to the first two Kings of the Kingitanga movement.

In July of 2019 the protectors at Ihumātao were issued with trespass notices and ordered to vacate the land, sadly mirroring the actions of Governor Grey who evicted the local iwi in 1863 and confiscated their land. This latest eviction sparked a huge police presence, leading to an even bigger turnout of supporters of the Protect Ihumātao campaign, and the issue became national and international headline news.

King Tūheitia with leaders of Protect Ihumātao, Qiane Matata-Sipu and Pania Newton. (Photo: Leonie Hayden)

What’s happened since July last year?

A major development in resolving the standoff between those occupying the land and Fletcher Building occurred on August 3, when the Māori king, Kiingi Tūheitia, visited the site and raised his Kiingitanga flag as a symbolic act to show his commitment to supporting the whānau in finding a resolution.

Following his visit, the Kiingitanga facilitated discussions between the Crown, local iwi representatives – including mana whenua of the Protect Ihumātao campaign who also represent the views of whānau from the Ihumātao papakāinga and the local Makaurau Marae – Auckland Council and Fletcher Building.

I heard that a deal was about to be announced?

On January 22, 2020, Kiingi Tūheitia returned to the South Auckland site to lower his flag after six months of ongoing discussions, leading to speculation an announcement was imminent.

Kiingitanga spokesperson Rahui Papa recently told Radio Waatea there were hopes for a deal to be announced before Waitangi Day, but the decision was currently still sitting with the government.

“That house in Wellington is a round house for a reason because they go around and around and around. I’m not sure where the hold up is. Kiingitanga and mana whenua are poised and ready to go to start some discussions in the hope there is some swift resolution,” he told the radio station.

In June there were reports of a deal involving the government buying the land using the Housing Act. However the prime minister quashed these rumours and finance minister Grant Robertson said he was hoping for a resolution before the election.

“We’re still finalising the arrangements, and there’s obviously a number of parties involved. And, for us, it’s been really important through this process to build trust and to make sure that everybody is on the same page, that takes time. It also means we keep the talks confidential.”

So where does that leave the campaign for Ihumātao?

Qiane Matata-Sipu, a spokesperson for Protect Ihumātao, says the group is pleased with the progress that has been made over the five-year campaign.

“Every day there isn’t a housing development on that whenua, it’s a win,” she says. “This last year is only one part of a very long campaign that has seen so many amazing people contribute to where we are today.

“In the last 12 months, mana whenua reached a consensus, through Kiingitanga facilitation, agreeing for the development to be stopped and for the whenua to be returned.”

And Matata-Sipu says that despite the delays in announcing a resolution, the land is already being utilised in many beneficial ways.

“The whānau of Ihumātao are already living out some of the aspirations for the whenua, planting natives, growing kai and exercising our mana motuhake while helping our people and our local communities thrive through the process.”

Keep going!
Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee lead out the National caucus after their selections as leader and deputy, July 2020. (Photo: Robert Kitchin-Pool/Getty Images)
Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee lead out the National caucus after their selections as leader and deputy, July 2020. (Photo: Robert Kitchin-Pool/Getty Images)

OPINIONĀteaJuly 18, 2020

Why diversity matters (and no one should need to write this headline in 2020)

Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee lead out the National caucus after their selections as leader and deputy, July 2020. (Photo: Robert Kitchin-Pool/Getty Images)
Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee lead out the National caucus after their selections as leader and deputy, July 2020. (Photo: Robert Kitchin-Pool/Getty Images)

People have been writing about what diversity can add to an organisation for literal decades, and yet we find ourselves with two major political party leaders that either can’t or won’t accept some very easy-to-grasp concepts. Gerry and Judith, this is for you.

New National Party leader Judith Collins announced on Wednesday that she would “not be distracted by people’s gender or ethnicity” when looking at a possible reshuffle of her shadow cabinet.

Later that day she repeated a now-infamous question to RNZ: “Is there something wrong with being white?”

The comments came after weeks of scrutiny of National’s all-Pākehā front bench.

Newly-minted deputy Gerry Brownlee doubled down: “I think it’s very interesting when people call out for diversity but at the same time demand competence, and sometimes balancing the two is not easy.”

This supposed trade off is a false dichotomy and, in my opinion, completely racist. It equates white monoculturalism with competence. There’s no other word for it.

The idea that you can’t have both is monstrously easy to disprove.

National has since appointed Dr Shane Reti as its new health spokesperson (replacing the beleaguered Michael Woodhouse) and reinstated Simon Bridges, ensuring that accusations of an all-white front bench can no longer be levelled at them, but neither can accusations of tokenism.

Those appointments make no difference to what I’m about to say. Diversity matters, and it’s a goal to strive for by any means necessary. I’ll break it down as simply as possible.

Why it matters

To quote The Spinoff’s Sam Brooks in a recent piece about National’s lack of openly LGBTQI+ MPs: “If you see yourself represented, whether it’s onscreen or in parliament, you believe you have a right to exist, a right to be heard, a right to be seen.”

This is, fundamentally, the function of representation. To represent. The more diverse the representation, the more people recognise their right to exist. If you have all cis white men on your board/front bench/panel, it’s an implicit endorsement that they are the only ones with authority.

So far, so easy to follow, right?

Diversity is about attraction

The thing about representation in a meritocracy is it’s not just about who you choose but also who you attract. Got no POC, disabled or LGBTI+ members? Then why would they trust you? Why would they choose you?

Gerry Brownlee voted against the Civil Union Bill in 2004, and the Marriage Amendment Act in 2013. At the reading of the former bill he said:

“The question is why one would want to recognise in law a group of people who have said for so long that they want to be recognised as different, but are now saying they want to be treated the same as other people. In my view, the sad fact is – although some will find this difficult to take – they are not the same.”

It’s safe to say Brownlee doesn’t believe the queer community deserves the same rights as everyone else – a community who are already lower in most wellbeing measures than the total population (which, of course, gets worse when you’re talking about trans, POC or disabled people). So where does that leave a smart, talented, ambitious young person with centre-right political aspirations who also happens to be gay? Would they choose a party with an anti-LGBTQI+ leader and no openly queer party members? Probably not. Sure, being gay might not be the thing they most strongly self-identify as (one can’t abide identity politics of course), but few would choose to put themselves in harm’s way either.

Congratulations, you’ve successfully reduced the number of capable candidates that might be available to you.

Equity versus equality

Most of us have seen this very simple, viral cartoon by now, created by Craig Froehle in 2012.

Some people have adapted the visual metaphor, adding a third scenario where there is no fence at all, or where the ground is lower rather than the people being different heights (implying the deficit isn’t in the people but in their circumstances).

Whichever way you look at it, it’s a very simple concept to grasp. So let’s extrapolate into some real word scenarios.

Let’s say the fence is education, and the game being played on the other side is employment. The boxes the kid on the right is standing on might be support in the form of a scholarship, perhaps a Māori liaison or student support group, a grant for new reading glasses from her iwi rūnanga. Her boxes however, keep getting removed too, by the extra hours of study needed not just to meet but to exceed some of her teachers’ low expectations. Another box goes because her family can’t support her financially while she does an internship so she works another job while studying and trying to gain work experience. Another one gets taken away every time her CV goes straight into the ‘no’ pile because she’s a woman or because of her Māori name.

What does that have to do with diverse inclusion? When that kid gets a glimpse over the fence, what’s equally important is what the players on the other side see (or don’t see) – someone who worked twice as hard to get over the fence. And every time they take a chance on that kid, fewer boxes get taken away from the kid coming up behind her.

Everyone loves a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps narrative, but what that actually entails is very different depending on your privilege (which does not mean “born into the lap of luxury'”, it just means that of two people born into poverty, the white privilege of one person will still be an advantage the other doesn’t have).

For one of the best explanations of privilege ever, I also refer you to the now-famous Toby Morris comic On A Plate.

Perspective is an asset

Collins referred to the fact that she preferred “diversity of thought”, arguing it was more important to “be representative rather than look representative”. I agree how you look is irrelevant. How the world treats you, based on how you look, is an entirely different matter.

A producer on a video production I worked on once took a similar attitude to diversity within the crew we were assembling. When we expressed a desire to hire as many people as possible who weren’t Pākehā men, she told us that we would hire “the most qualified person for the job” and it didn’t matter what their gender or background was.

I’ll tell you now all the things I wish I’d said to her then. Experience gives perspective. Perspective is one of the greatest assets you can bring to a job or a project. No two people have the same perspective. Take two camera people with the same qualifications and professional experience. If one is a cis Pākehā man and one is literally anyone else, their experiences in life will have been very different, as will their understanding of what motivates people. This can make all the difference to what will be the focal point in a frame, or the most sensitive way to film a vulnerable scene, or how comfortable the on-camera talent feel in their gaze, or access to certain communities, or how to behave appropriately in different cultural settings.

Shut up and learn

This is very simple – everyone else knows something you don’t know. A “diversity of thought” is not created by people with similar upbringings, who went to similar schools, had similar career paths and speak the same, single language. People who speak another language don’t just know words that you don’t – as every bi-lingual or multi-lingual person will tell you, different languages can express ideas that can’t be expressed in another. It’s a reflection of cultural understanding. Language literally shapes thoughts and ideas, as well as vice versa.

Understanding different cultural models for civic leadership and pedagogy can only make both those systems stronger too. Much like our stubbornly monolingual culture, the Victorian legal and education systems we live under have remained essentially unchanged for 200 years. The world is much bigger than that and the Empire no longer has to dictate our cultural values – but we have to listen to people who aren’t like us to learn how to grow.

How not to do it

This thread describes a scenario many minority activists and academics are familiar with: people contacting the most visible member of a marginalised community they can think of and asking them to be involved in a project they have no experience or knowledge of, so they can say they included a diverse range of voices.

A common outcome when this is the approach is ‘I tried to make my event diverse but everyone I asked said no, it’s not my fault!”

It’s not a box ticking exercise. Being an active Treaty partner or an inclusive organisation takes time – years even. Whether you’re a CEO, the head of a media empire or a political party, diversity needs investment. If you can’t hire diversely for your board or your senior management, then you sure as hell better be investing in internships and development. The returns on that investment (I’m talking about creative and cultural returns) are many – wider appeal, better perspective, access, variety and crucially, wellbeing.

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It doesn’t take a genius to understand all of these very basic tenets, but it does take a brave person to readjust a lifetime of monocultural thinking.

Lazy slogans like “I don’t see colour” translate to “it’s too much work for me to recognise that your experiences are different from mine”. It erases hard won battle scars, pain, and most importantly, valuable mātauranga. There’s nothing wrong with being white. There is everything wrong with dismissing people’s differences as meaningless when they are the very reason for many unique and wonderful qualities.