Living our rangatiratanga

Tomorrow marks 189 years since the signing of He Whakaputanga, the first written document to express rangatiratanga on behalf of hapū, and a precursor to Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Subsequent national discussion about rangatiratanga has often centred on constitutional arrangements and government obligations.

But here, a group of Māori laws and philosphy students offer a reminder that the expression of rangatiratanga is rooted in whānau action, not government permission.

 

On October 28, 1835, a group of 34 rangatira from the north made an important statement to the rest of the world. They declared their independence and collective sovereign authority in these islands by signing He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Niu Tireni. One hundred and eighty-nine years on, what does this declaration of rangatiratanga mean for us?

For a start, He Whakaputanga is essential to understanding Te Tiriti o Waitangi. After the first rangatira signed, less than five years before Te Tiriti, others continued to add their names to He Whakaputanga until 1839. A total of 52 rangatira signed the declaration.

He Whakaputanga makes it clear that Aotearoa (or “Niu Tireni”, in the words of the declaration) was an independent state and that the only ones who exercised legal, political, and governmental authority here, at that time, were the rangatira on behalf of their hapū.

A copy of He Wakaputanga was sent to the King of England in 1835 after its initial signing, and it was formally acknowledged by the British Crown in 1836. These actions established the context for Te Tiriti o Waitangi — the rangatira had told the rest of the world that only they exercised authority here. The British Crown had acknowledged their declaration. If the British authorities hoped to exercise any legal or governmental authority here, they would need to seek the consent of the rangatira — leading to the drafting of Te Tiriti o Waitangi in 1840.

The authority of the rangatira, as declared in He Whakaputanga, is maintained in Te Tiriti, where it is expressed as “tino rangatiratanga”. Today, we hear a lot about Te Tiriti as a constitutional document and the obligations it places on the government. While these things are important, they aren’t the only way to think about tino rangatiratanga. We think it’s also helpful to consider a more grounded perspective and reflect on the ways that whānau are exercising tino rangatiratanga, especially over the last 50 years.

Two prominent modern expressions of tino rangatiratanga are the establishment of the kōhanga reo movement and the organisation of roadside checkpoints in response to the Covid-19 pandemic.

The kōhanga reo movement has played an important role in revitalising te reo Māori. In the 1970s, it became clear that the decline in the number of te reo speakers was threatening the very survival of the language. Māori communities and leaders took a range of actions to address this situation. A number of petitions were presented to parliament calling for, among other things, te reo Māori to be taught in all schools.

The language learning programme Te Ātaarangi was founded in 1979, and the first kaupapa Māori tertiary institution, Te Wānanga o Raukawa, was established in 1981. The kōhanga reo movement developed from a series of national hui from 1979–1982 which adopted the guiding principle “Ko te reo te mauri o te mana Māori” (The language is the life force of the mana Māori) and developed a proposal for full-immersion Māori-run daycare centres.

The first kōhanga reo opened at Pukeatua marae in Wainuiomata in 1982. One of the leaders of the movement, Dame Iritana Tāwhiwhirangi, described kōhanga reo as an initiative that came from Māori, run by whānau Māori for whānau Māori:

“There was no template for Kōhanga Reo. It was driven by the recognition that something needed to be done about the state of te reo Māori and that this could form the basis for wider whānau development. The initiative came from Māori communities themselves, using the resources they already had in order to place emphasis on . . . a cultural approach to learning, rather than from the Crown . . . In particular, they used their kuia and kaumātua . . . who had been raised with te reo Māori, and their marae as premises. The kaupapa involved learning in an environment which was natural for young children and their whānau, rather than a formal education environment.”

By 1985, there were nearly 400 kōhanga reo across the country taking in over 6,000 tamariki. Linda Tuhiwai Smith has written about the importance of kōhanga reo, not only in terms of language revitalisation but as a movement that was centred on whānau. It is not dependent on iwi structures and encourages autonomy at the whānau level.

The kōhanga reo movement helps us to think about what tino rangatiratanga means at a whānau level and what can be done to support the expression of tino rangatiratanga from the flaxroots.

The roadside checkpoints that were set up as a response to the Covid-19 pandemic provide another useful example of community-led action grounded in tino rangatiratanga.

Maria Bargh and Luke Fitzmaurice examine a number of instances of these checkpoints in their book Stepping Up: COVID-19 Checkpoints and Rangatiratanga. Those cases show Māori communities taking action to try to protect their people from the spread of the virus. The communities concerned did not wait for instructions, permission, or resources from the government but acted swiftly to keep their people safe. This was an exercise of rangatiratanga, often organised by hapū,  that was inherently bound together with the rights and duties of kaitiakitanga and manaakitanga, including obligations to nurture, care for, and protect others.

The establishment of the checkpoints was derived from and driven by tikanga Māori. Concepts such as aroha and whānau featured prominently in the way in which participants described their motivations and actions. Not only was the obligation to act drawn from te ao Māori, but so too was the authority to act.  Although the checkpoints in the case studies were organised in different ways, they all drew on authority sourced in their own communities. These were clear expressions of rangatiratanga.

We think those two examples — the kōhanga reo movement and the pandemic checkpoints — provide some important lessons for how we think about the exercise of tino rangatiratanga.

First, tino rangatiratanga isn’t just about the big constitutional relationship with kāwanatanga. Tino rangatiratanga has never operated as a top-down hierarchy. Actions taken by whānau and hapū can be expressions of rangatiratanga. In fact, such actions can help create greater space for exercising tino rangatiratanga and set the framework for a better constitutional relationship.

Second, the authority of tino rangatiratanga comes from tikanga Māori, not from recognition by kāwanatanga. The parameters of that authority and accountabilities also come from tikanga Māori.

And finally, working according to tikanga, drawing on our own processes for understanding roles, responsibilities, and decision-making, supports both the authority and the wellbeing of our communities.

We don’t need to always be reacting to kāwanatanga. Our actions can be our own declaration of rangatiratanga.

 

Tracy Karanui-Golf (Te Rarawa, Ngāti Kuri), Mahinarangi Maika (Ngāti Porou ki Harataunga, Tūhourangi, Ngāti Whakaue), and Jota Firmin (Wainui-ā-Rua, Te Āti Haunui-a-Pāpārangi) are students in the Tāhuhu Ahunga Tikanga (Master of Māori Laws and Philosophy) programme at Te Wānanga o Raukawa, and Carwyn Jones (Ngāti Kahungunu) is Kaihautū (Director) of the Ahunga Tikanga programme.

E-Tangata, 2024