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The Tino Rangatiratanga flag flies on the maunga at Ihumātao. (Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)
The Tino Rangatiratanga flag flies on the maunga at Ihumātao. (Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)

SocietyFebruary 5, 2020

Why resistance is at the heart of decolonisation in India and Aotearoa

The Tino Rangatiratanga flag flies on the maunga at Ihumātao. (Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)
The Tino Rangatiratanga flag flies on the maunga at Ihumātao. (Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)

Histories of colonisation ought to be remembered, including the horrors and atrocities, but also the endurance and empowerment found in trenchant resistance and the fight for sovereignty, writes Radhika Reddy.

India and Aotearoa are both grappling with decolonisation. In this ongoing struggle to wrest free from the legacies of colonialism, each society can learn from the other.

A recent piece published by The Spinoff uncovered some of these lessons, but in my view gave a rather disempowering view of both Māori and Indian experiences. It emphasised tragedy, brutality and suffering, but overlooked trenchant resistance efforts seeking sovereignty, where we might find the most useful stories to exchange.

Common ground

The previous article began with common ground, but only focused on Māori and Hindu ecological values, so let’s broaden the picture with some Indian traditions beyond Hinduism, and decolonising Māori values.

Papatūānuku and Kaitiakitanga: Khalifa, Amana (from Islam)

An “ethos of living in harmony in nature” is found in Islam, India’s second-largest religion. The Quranic approach is based on Khalifa and Amana (trusteeship of nature) in which humans have guardianship over nature, to appreciate and care for it, pass it unspoiled to future generations, and manage sustainably.

Manaakitanga: Seva (from Sikhism)

A spirit of hospitality pointedly appears in the centuries-old Sikh tradition of Guru Ka Langar (communal meal), an act of Seva (selfless service). Langar serves food freely and equally to all-comers, regardless of religion, caste, wealth, gender or age, overcoming divisions exploited by colonialism.

Tino rangatiratanga: Swaraj (from secularism)

Māori notions of self-government and Gandhi’s credo of Swaraj (self-rule) share an essence of seeking self-determination, with social structures and values separate from colonial interference.

Besides principles, there are common experiences and episodes of resistance shared in history:

Parihaka

The events of Parihaka came long before India’s independence movement gained momentum, but the spirit of non-violent resistance echoes across centuries, possibly having influenced Gandhi.

Redcoats

British regiments frequently rotated through India and New Zealand. Waves of veterans, after plundering India or suppressing its rebellions, came to fight the New Zealand Wars, or left to police India. British statues as well as town, street and suburb names across Aotearoa are familiar to students of Indian history — Empress Victoria, Governor-General Auckland, Colonel then Commander-in-Chief Wellesley (later Duke of Wellington), and places like Bombay or Khyber Pass. These are connected histories.

Lessons India has to offer for Māori

Among decolonisation projects, India’s imperfect story of independence still has interesting lessons.

Non-violent resistance works

Māori have led non-violent resistance in Aotearoa for generations, from Parihaka to Ihumātao, and may find the example of India’s liberation a hopeful landmark victory in global history.

The practice of Indian non-violent resistance continues to this day, as protests rage against likely unconstitutional policies such as the Citizenship Amendment Act and the National Register of Citizens, with assemblies, marches, sit-ins, and art, despite state violence.

Coexistence

Although India ejected British occupation and suffers internal divisions, there is still a firm thread running through the ages demonstrating coexistence between different cultures.

Look to chapters in history like the peaceful inclusion of Muslims in South India since the seventh century, the religious tolerance of Akbar in the 16th century, the joint Hindu-Muslim Indian Rebellion of 1857, and the secular Indian constitution. They contrast with divisive ideologies like Hindutva founder V.D Savarkar’s two-nation theory that promoted a dominant Hindu nation. The daily lives of many Indians today embody inter-cultural acceptance, the norm across much of the country, most of the time.

Whereas Aotearoa may not return its settler society for a full refund, multicultural coexistence is possible.

Overcoming divide-and-rule

Whether it was the East India Companies or the British Raj, a small minority of power brokers ran the show — infamously, 35 staff in an East India Company office. They relied on divide-and-rule, recruiting vast numbers of Indian foot soldiers (Sepoys) to do the hard work. But a highly-leveraged organisational arrangement is weak to united resistance (like Kotahitanga). Today it appears in gig economies or the criminal justice industry, which pit marginalised people against each other.

Self-government is not always good government

Today’s India shows how things can get wobbly even 70 years after independence, as a homegrown blood-and-soil movement undermines equality and reproduces colonial hierarchies atop a diverse society.

Take the word “decolonisation”. It probably looks straightforward, but it is a co-opted term in India. In the name of decolonisation, the Hindutva movement promotes discriminatory reforms, such as ending affirmative action for lower-caste people, and passing the exclusionary Citizenship Amendment Act.

There are regions under Indian rule seeking greater autonomy or Azaadi (freedom) today – resisting occupation by a central Indian state, as Assam endures detention centres, and Kashmir a militarised siege.

It takes eternal vigilance to protect hard-won sovereignty from sabotage.

What India can learn from Māori

Colonialism is now

It is tempting to think colonialism must belong only to museums and history books. But settler-colonial societies still persist. In Aotearoa, settlers may have settled but the nation remains unsettled. As Treaty negotiations, claims and protests unfold, Indians can reflect on how the colonial legacy is fed by continuous re-colonisation – a risk India is prone to, not from Britain, but from, say, supremacists within.

Indians in Aotearoa can also respond by allying with Māori in decolonisation efforts.

Overcoming casteism and anti-indigeneity

While there is no comparing two complex societies, there are still parallels between the institutional discrimination that Māori have endured, and the discrimination against Dalit, Other Backward Class, Scheduled Caste, Scheduled Tribe and Adivasi (indigenous) people. As Indians in Aotearoa can find solidarity with Māori in undoing colonial oppression, so too can India find equality for its systematically disadvantaged classes.

Protecting taonga like language

While India is blessed with a diversity of cultures, a tendency to homogenise society with one language and identity sometimes rears its head. Whether under well-meaning secularism, or Hindutva rule, language imposition threatens diversity. South Indian languages like Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada are spoken by large minorities but are often in tension with a Hindi regime pushed by central governments. The experience of Te Reo Māori shows the value in preserving languages, and the perils of erasure.

Common struggles

Supremacism

Whether it is white supremacy or Hindu supremacy (sharing traits like Islamophobia), countering dangerous ideologies is vital to fulfill the egalitarian promise of the constitutions of both Aotearoa and India.

Climate change

A global challenge like climate change demands a variety of solutions, but most importantly by centering indigenous people in decision-making — something Aotearoa has yet to fully embrace. For all the “harmony with nature” embedded in dominant Indian cultures such as Hinduism, the ruling BJP government has much to answer for when it comes to emissions, environmental degradation and deregulation.

Feminism, LGBT and disability equality

Achieving equality for women, non-binary, LGBT and disabled people in India and Aotearoa is an ongoing struggle. Threats like sexual abuse, domestic violence, inadequate healthcare, colourism, repressive gender roles, limited autonomy, inaccessiblity, and economic inequality, are common concerns.

Patriarchal British norms echo in Indian laws, as with Section 377 that criminalised homosexuality until recently. Despite decriminalisation in 2018, there is not yet recognition of same-sex or gender-diverse marriage, protection against discrimination, or adequate healthcare. Trans Indians are targeted by the new Transgender Persons Act which sanctions second-class treatment — for instance, it provides for lower sentences in cases of violent crimes against trans women. The new Citizenship Amendment Act and National Register of Citizens especially threaten women, non-binary, LGBT and disabled people.

In Aotearoa, amendments to laws like the Birth, Deaths, Marriages, and Relationships Registration Bill, letting trans people more easily update birth certificates, still face transphobic opposition. Abortion decriminalisation remains under consideration. Māori may be worst affected by settler-colonial sexism, homophobia, transphobia and ableism.

These are signs that our societies have a long way to go, to enact systemic reforms, and to lift the veil of everyday shame and silence surrounding marginalised lives in our cultures.

Remembering

Histories of colonisation ought to be remembered, including the horrors and atrocities, but also the endurance and empowerment found in resistance. The previous Spinoff article proposed a museum dedicated to New Zealand colonisation, and praised changes to the curriculum teaching New Zealand history in all schools.

Both of these are laudable goals, but must be conducted with care to avoid the kind of revisionism seen in India under Hindutva rule. Any museum of New Zealand colonisation should seek to share with all New Zealanders the narratives Māori have learned and developed, to centre Māori self-determination and agency, and to emphasise coexistence under a Treaty framework that respects Tino Rangatiratanga.

Keep going!
Passengers in the arrivals concourse at Heathrow airport in London. (Photo by Steve Parsons/PA Images via Getty Images)
Passengers in the arrivals concourse at Heathrow airport in London. (Photo by Steve Parsons/PA Images via Getty Images)

SocietyFebruary 4, 2020

The real plague is racism: Why I refuse to give into xenophobia over coronavirus

Passengers in the arrivals concourse at Heathrow airport in London. (Photo by Steve Parsons/PA Images via Getty Images)
Passengers in the arrivals concourse at Heathrow airport in London. (Photo by Steve Parsons/PA Images via Getty Images)

As the mother of an immunocompromised child, Kiki Van Newton has more excuse than most to worry about the coronavirus outbreak. But racist reactions – and panicked border closures – aren’t the answer, she writes.

When my baby was eight weeks old she was in hospital. Each day a physiotherapist would put on a mask and gown and enter our isolation room, winding in between tubes and cords to perform chest physical therapy on my four-pound daughter, tipping her tiny body over and tapping away on her back. For the next six weeks everyone who visited our room wore a fresh white gown and surgical mask.

Seven years later my baby is now a child who performs elaborate plays, is dedicated to science experiments, can bake a cake from scratch without a recipe, and climbs too high in trees for my liking. Seven years later I am now a parent who has spent too much time in children’s wards, who knows too much about vaccinations and why there are so many types of white blood cells and how to mitigate infection risks. I’m the mother of a person with Shwachman Diamond Syndrome and severe primary immune-deficiency. I’m the mother harping on about hand sanitiser and flu shots and staying home if you’re sick.

Our whole household adheres to a strict neutropenia protocol. How we do everything is guided by constant assessments around infection risk. When I arrive home from work I strip off my clothes and throw them straight into the washing machine and immediately wash my hands. I google questions like ‘how long does a virus stay contagious on a surface for?’ and ‘best facemasks for children’. Nobody enters our house unless they’re fully vaccinated. Bottles of alcoholic hand sanitiser are dotted around the place like precious ornaments.

During September, October and November last year we gave up all group activities. Measles had made its way to our city, and we were in lockdown. My kids usually attend home education clubs most days, but for over two months there was no sport, no technology, no bushcraft or library or playgroup. For all of spring my seven year old didn’t step foot in a public building. We missed our op-shopping dates and jumperama, but we stuck to the unpopulated beaches and parks and we found fun in new places. This level of precaution might seem extreme, I thought, but so is a dead child.

When measles cases finally tapered off late last year, my life went back to a normal level of medium anxious. Now I could clear my mind and just focus on the mountain of washing that accrues when everything must be constantly washed. And then reports of a new virus started showing up in the news. Centred in Wuhan in China, the virus was reported as anything from a flu to a deadly plague. My friend messaged me, “nothing like a pandemic to help anxiety levels” *laugh cry emoji*.

“Police investigating ‘ignorant, arrogant’ coronavirus email’: Stuff, 4 February 2020

The thing about living for seven years constantly assessing infection risk is that I’ve learnt a lot about assessing infection risk. I am one of those people for whom facts – no matter how bad – are very comforting. Upon hearing about the novel coronavirus I deep-dived into research. I read the WHO reports and every news item I could find. I sifted through old data about SARS and MERS. I looked up facts about disease transmission. I read up on how countries have dealt with pandemics over the last few decades. And what I found was devastating.

Countless articles spreading misinformation and xenophobic opinions. Hundreds and hundreds of comments from people barely able to mask their racist beliefs. Conspiracy theories and hyperbolic rants. And now a government that has closed our door to foreign nationals travelling from, or transiting through, China. Against World Health Organisation advice.

This doesn’t make me feel safe. Making a decision this big contrary to scientific evidence and advice does not make me feel safe. Creating an environment where xenophobes and racists feel comfortable to express hateful views unchallenged does not make me feel safe. I am terrified of coronavirus and the harm it could cause, but I’m far more concerned about white supremacy and the immeasurable damage it causes across the globe. This novel coronavirus might be the scary new contagion, but racism has been infecting our countries for hundreds and hundreds of years. Racism truly is a plague, and it leads to the death of millions and millions of people every year.

If we really want to reduce the risks from transmissible diseases we need to look past the front page freak-outs and comments sections. We need to educate ourselves on how to keep our communities healthy. We need to be given the resources to be healthy including warm, dry houses, clean water, good food, and ready access to healthcare. We need a government who ensures that hospitals are adequately resourced, and that our medical community is well looked after. We need leaders who base big decisions on evidence. And if we want to address racism and xenophobia, then we need to name it and challenge it. We need leaders who are actively anti-racist and who uphold rights, respect and safety for all people, at all times. This is what we all deserve.

I’m hopeful, about everything. I have so much respect for the scientists and medical experts working to curb this pandemic. I have the utmost confidence that they are able to provide the best advice to minimise infection risks. I’m hopeful too, about the xenophobia and racism. When we pull back the curtain on these attitudes it gives us an opportunity to see the real damage and make plans to address it. We can strengthen our resolve to treat the issue. Like lifting the dressing on an infected wound, we can find the best salve to treat the cause and heal the pain.