Muestreo

While the previous section focussed on relational structures which silence and refuse the speech of the colonised, as Gurevitch argues, the two do continue to talk, predominantly through ‘things’. Given the neurotic structure of this relation, the ‘conversation through things’ obsessively recurs. Here I centre on the difficult topic of colonial history as one of the major ‘things’ through which Maori and Pakeha continue to speak. Remembering this history is for Pakeha a ‘nuisance’, while for Maori it represents ‘blood, sweat and tears’ (Gurevitch, 2001:91-2). Through discussion of history, Maori seek to uncover the violence of colonisation, which lies at the heart of establishing the coloniser/colonised (master/slave) relation. The colonising Pakeha, on the other hand, do not want to ‘hear’ this Maori voice and wish to understand this relation in other terms, to deflect the moral

judgment of colonial violence. Thus discussions of colonial history offer an important site for the analysis of repressive and repressed conversation.

Two notable reminders of colonial history that led to extended discussion and debate in the mass media during the time in which I wrote this thesis, exemplify the silencing and blocking of Maori speech in ways that match Gurevitch’s description of the conversation between master and slave. They also continue my exploration of epistemological issues in the relation between self and other, in that both speakers who initiated these debates called for greater knowledge of colonial history and of Maori cultural difference, as key to improving cross-cultural relations. In the analysis that follows I give examples from these debates to illustrate a number of the aspects of blocking and silencing speech. The major emphasis in both instances, in this analysis and in the public debates at the time, centres on the choice of comparisons each speaker used in an effort to engage their audiences to ‘take the position of the other’, or to empathise with the Maori experience. Thus these debates offer useful insights into a further theme that will resurface later in this exploration of the possibilities of intersubjective relations, the possibilities of empathy, or sympathetic engagement with the suffering of another.107

The first of these debates was prompted when, on 29 August 2000, the Hon. Tariana Turia, a Minister in the Labour-led Government of the time, gave a speech to the New Zealand Psychological Society Conference. In this speech, and two subsequent speeches to similar audiences, she challenged the psychological and psychiatric professions to become more knowledgeable about the ‘Maori psyche’ and tikanga M_ori to enable them to better treat their Maori patients.108

107

Note that empathy marks the initial introduction of ethical concerns in this discussion. Empathy involves a mix of epistemological and ethical modes of intersubjectivity. Appeals to empathy involve establishing an epistemological relation to provoke an ethical concern for the experience of an-other. Empathy begins from the empathiser’s own knowledge (from subjective experience or knowledge of other instances) of suffering. The appeal of empathy is to project this knowledge onto the experience of the suffering other, to elicit concern for that suffering.

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The audiences and dates of the other two speeches were: the Royal Australia and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, 5 October, 2000; and the Schizophrenia Fellowship of New Zealand, 8 November, 2000.

suggest professional interest in her argument, the first speech in particular sparked protracted, and often negative, public debate. What distinguished this speech was Turia’s assertion that the ongoing damage of colonisation is a major cause of the problems of Maori mental health. Her descriptions of the harm to Maori identity and self-worth echo Fanon’s analysis of the damage done to the colonised subject:

A consequence of colonial oppression has been the internalisation by Maori of the images the oppressor has of them ... I know the psychological consequences of the internalisation of negative images is for people to take for themselves the illusion of the oppressors’ power while they are in a situation of helplessness and despair, a despair leading to self-hatred, and for many, suicide. The externalisation of the self-hatred on the other hand, is seen with the number of Maori who are convicted of crimes of violence and the very high numbers of Maori women and children who are the victims of violence (Turia, 29/8/00, p2-3 of 4).

In making her case, Turia compared Maori experience of colonisation to a number of events widely understood by Pakeha society as violent, harmful, even genocidal. She likened the invasion of homelands to ‘home invasions’,109 expanded ‘post traumatic stress disorder’ to ‘post colonial traumatic stress disorder’, and, repeating the language of the Waitangi Tribunal’s Taranaki Report (1996), referred to ‘the holocaust suffered by indigenous people including Maori as a result of colonial contact and behaviour’.110

What I have difficulty in reconciling is how “home invasions” emits such outpourings of concern for the victims and an intense despising of the invaders In making these comparisons, Turia was very clear that she wished the same acknowledgment and concern to be extended to Maori:

109

This term has been prevalent in the New Zealand media since 1998, being used to refer to household break-ins involving violence against, and sometimes murder of, householders.

110

The Waitangi Tribunal (see www.waitangi-tribunal.govt.nz) is a Government body made up of Maori and non-Maori individuals, set up in 1975 to investigate and adjudicate on Maori grievances over breaches to the Treaty of Waitangi. In 1984 its powers were extended to include historical claims, opening the way to a multitude of claims relating to nineteenth century breaches. The Tribunal generally only has the power to make recommendations to Government for ‘Treaty settlements’. The two biggest of these to date have resulted in the return of land, assets and money to the value of $170 million each to two major tribal groups.

while the invasions of the “home lands” of Maori does not engender the same level of emotion and concern for the Maori victims (Turia, 29/8/00, p1-2 of 4, emphasis added).

Here Turia appealed to shared knowledge of other instances of suffering to elicit an ethical concern for the plight of Maori. She stated that, in making the comparison with the Jewish Holocaust, she did not wish to enter an ‘our holocaust was worse than your holocaust’ debate. However, despite this caveat, the Holocaust comparison became the central focus of much of the negative response to Turia’s speech.

The second debate was sparked when, on 4 December 2002, Joris de Bres, as Race Relations Commissioner, gave a speech to mark the United Nations Day of Cultural Heritage. In this speech he suggested that New Zealanders should reflect on the ‘cultural vandalism’ inflicted on Maori in colonial history. What he called for, in particular, was that such reflection lead to the adoption of a more respectful and protective relationship to Maori culture in the present. Like Turia, de Bres made a comparison to emphasise his point, in this instance about the value of cultural diversity and preservation. Since the United Nations Year of Cultural Heritage had been inaugurated as a response to the Taliban’s destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in Afghanistan in 2001, de Bres used this event as his comparative example:

This was an appalling example of people of one culture wielding their power to destroy a site that was special to people of another. The world was outraged. But while we rightfully shake our heads in incomprehension and condemnation, the destruction of the Buddhas also challenges us to think of our own country and to examine our own record.

The colonisation of New Zealand was a sorry litany of cultural vandalism (de Bres, 4/12/02, p1 of 4).

De Bres’ comparative appeal contrasts with Turia’s in that he does not ask his audience to empathise with Maori subjective suffering. Rather he seeks, through the Taliban comparison, to provoke Pakeha to reflect on the damage inflicted by the violent colonial orientation towards cultural difference. Again, it was this comparison with the actions of the Taliban which became the topic for many of those responding to de Bres’ speech, rather than his argument itself. More generally, response was also stimulated by the calls to address the wrongs of colonialism and to reflect on contemporary relations in

light of what we can learn from that past.

Many of the dynamics of repression that Gurevitch (2001:92-4) points to were present in subsequent debates over both these speeches, as Pakeha sought to deflect the call to attend to colonial harms inflicted on Maori. Here I address these dynamics utilising three general frames to structure my discussion - prohibitions on speech, ‘shrouding’ with incessant speech and the neurotic nature of the ‘conversation through things’. The issue of prohibitions on speech is a further form of the ‘silenced ear’ of the master, who refuses to listen to what the slave has to say. The focus here is on manifestations of this refusal in direct prohibitions to speech - ‘Don’t say that!’ or ‘You can’t say that!’ - or in the dismissal of speech as inappropriate - ‘You are out of line’. Both Turia and de Bres were met with furious refusals to ‘hear’ what they had to say. The most vehement and impassioned turned to denigration to ‘drown out’ these critical voices. For example, Turia’s speech was dubbed ‘off the planet’ by an Opposition MP111

111

All members of the New Zealand parliament who are not in Government are called Members of the Opposition. Hence the Opposition is made up of MPs from a number of different political parties.

(Sowry, quoted in Venter, Dominion, 30/8/00, p1), she was entitled ‘Tariana in Wonderland’ (Calvert,

Evening Post, 1/9/00, p4) and judged ‘disturbed’ (Cross, Evening Post, 1/9/00, p1). De Bres was attacked by a number of Opposition politicians, being called a ‘handwringing white liberal’ and ‘a self-appointed zealot’(Peters, quoted by Robinson and Plunkett,

Morning Report, 5/12/02) and his speech dubbed ‘offensive’ (English, with Clark, Nine to Noon, 4/12/02; McCully, in Venter, Christchurch Press, 7/12/02, pA12). Finally, historian Michael King was quoted as calling his speech ‘stupid and provocative’ (in Watkins, Christchurch Press, 7/12/02, pA4).

Many refusals centred on the inappropriateness of the speeches themselves. Turia and de Bres were either ‘out of line’ given their official capacities, or their comparisons were inappropriate. Turia’s political colleagues used far milder tones than those above, but similarly deflected attention from what she had to say. A spokesperson for the Prime Minister was reported (in an article headlined ‘Turia in for a telling-off by PM’), as saying,

the tone and flavour of Mrs Turia’s arguments were not “terribly helpful” ... “She doesn’t enjoy the same sort of freedoms as she might as a backbench MP. She’s now a minister of the Crown and that carries with it certain responsibilities” (Venter, Dominion, 30/8/00, p1).

This sentiment was echoed by other political colleagues and in newspaper editorials (for example, ‘Tariana Turia and ...’, Evening Post, 7/9/00, p4). De Bres likewise, was challenged for speaking ‘out of line’ as a Race Relations Conciliator. Thus, by their angry rejections and assertions of inappropriateness, these responses sought both to silence this critical speech and refused to ‘hear’ it.

The second frame I use to structure this discussion of the ‘conversation through things’ is the practice of ‘shrouding’ Turia’s and de Bres’ arguments in incessant speech. Paradoxically, I argue this is a form of the ‘repressive silence’ the master uses to refuse to engage with the slave’s speech. While silence itself is difficult to access in this type of research which centres on what is written and said, what is apparent, particularly following Tariana Turia’s speech in August 2000, is the incessant speech of Pakeha, often seeking to ‘drown out’ and to dismiss her voice. In the same way that Gurevitch suggests the silence of the slave does not mean the actual absence of speech but the repression of ‘free’ speech, so the silence of the master may not mean the absence of speech either. Rather, the silence of the master can be achieved through speech ‘by asserting avoidance and a voiding of hearing and of acknowledging’ (Gurevitch, 2001:93). This incessant speech ‘shrouds’ (Felman, 1992:183; cited in Gurevitch, 2001:93) the topics raised by the slave, avoiding rather than addressing them.

The dynamics of ‘shrouding’ in incessant speech have been detailed by Dori Laub (1992:72-3), who lists defences used to avoid ‘hearing’ traumatic testimonies. Two of these are of particular relevance to the analysis of responses to Turia and de Bres. Firstly, ‘shrouding’ takes the form of expressions of anger, which Laub argues reflect a sense of inadequacy about being able to respond properly or a desire to restrict responsibility for the problem to those experiencing the suffering. Secondly, speech can be ‘shrouded’ in ‘an obsession with factfinding’, which works to foreclose discussion via the assertion of already ‘having the facts’. Both of these strategies work to avert

attention from the claim to suffering, thus rejecting any appeal to empathic engagement.112

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These are only two of Laub’s list of six defensive responses. Two of the others - paralysis and withdrawal - involve no expression in speech. The remaining two are responses which superficially seem supportive - ‘endowing the survivor with a kind of sanctity ... [by which they are kept] at a distance, to avoid the intimacy entailed in knowing’ and ‘hyperemotionally [sic] which superficially looks like compassion and caring ... [but means that the speech of the testifier] is simply flooded, drowned and lost in the listener’s defensive affectivity’ (Laub, 1992:72-3).

The most incessant speech involved rejections of Turia’s and de Bres’ chosen comparisons. These were seized upon as a topic for discussion in itself, once again to avoid ‘hearing’ the substance of the arguments being made. The debate over Turia’s comparison between the Jewish Holocaust and Maori experience of colonisation was the most extensive, continuing in the print media from late August into December 2000.113

The real Maori holocaust occurred when Te Rauparaha, and other chiefs, armed with guns, ravaged other tribes with great slaughter before the Treaty of Waitangi was signed. In 1823 a Waikato tribe virtually depopulated Taranaki. The survivors fled to Kapiti and the Sounds, and returned after the British pioneers settled in New Plymouth. The Treaty brought law and order to New Zealand, and Maori no longer lived in dread of attack from some more war-like neighbour. Should not Maori be grateful for this, and not be making false claims Many of those who rejected the use of the term ‘holocaust’ to describe Pakeha colonisation of Maori, used a strategy of reversal, arguing that any ‘real’ holocaust in New Zealand history was perpetrated by Maori, against other Maori and/or against the Moriori. This extremely common line of argument demonstrates the defensive ‘obsession with factfinding’ as these examples indicate:

Mrs Turia may speak about the “holocaust” that followed European colonisation, but history records that is was Hika who practised what amounted to genocidal warfare against Ngati Paoa, Ngati Maru and Ngati Whatua. (Nowhere in the history of Maori-European military conflict are more than 1000 casualties recorded from a single engagement.) In fact, the only indisputable “holocaust” to blight New Zealand history was the mass enslavement and murder of the Moriori people of the Chatham Islands by Te Atiawa during the 1830s and 40s (Trotter, Dominion, 1/9/00, p8, emphasis added).

Tariana Turia has got it right - except she has quoted the wrong time period and the wrong perpetrators of the Maori holocaust. The holocaust which did occur happened between 1806 and 1845 - the period when Maoris obtained muskets and proceeded to slaughter other Maoris. Maori killed their own, not in hundreds, but in tens of thousands. The unfortunate losers were deprived of their lands, enslaved or eaten. The Treaty indeed “protected” Maoris at that time from their own depravity. The fact is, if Mrs Turia and her supporters are suffering from traumatic stress disorder, it is arguably pre-colonisation, not post- colonisation, which is the cause. It is estimated that in this period, the total population of Maoris, between 100,000 and 150,0000, declined by 50,000 as a result of internecine barbarism and killing (Crosby, The Musket Wars, 1999). The 1860s were minor in comparison (Devlin, Dominion, 2/9/00, p30).

113

A number of respondents expressed unease with Turia’s holocaust comparison out of a desire to acknowledge the specificity of the Jewish experience, while also being careful to acknowledge Maori suffering. These responses will be discussed briefly in Chapter Eight.

on the descendants of those who set them free from their former terror, and who brought them the benefits of civilisation? (Salt, Evening Post, 21/9/00, p4).

Such ‘fact-finding’ accounts, with their recitation of numbers and dates to reinforce their historical veracity, work, as Laub suggests, to avert attention from the emotional and subjective experience of suffering that Turia described. Further, the reversal strategy used by these writers illustrates the zero-sum nature of the struggle between coloniser and colonised, or master and slave. As Gurevitch says, it is ‘voice against voice ... I or Thou’, either ‘barbarism’ or ‘civilisation’, either ‘we’ were holocaust perpetrators, or ‘you’ were. These writers constitute Maori as the ‘depraved’ barbarians, the primitive other. Finally, once again echoing Laub, such arguments also seek to allocate responsibility for Maori suffering to Maori themselves, at least as much as, if not more than, to Pakeha. This suggestion was raised explicitly by Nicholas Scott who, having outlined the holocausts against the Moriori and by Te Rauparaha, concluded that

[i]t was a harsh, cruel society then, in the Maori as well as the Pakeha way of life. At least we tried to stamp out intertribal wars and cannibalism. Could not some of today’s abuse stem from old memories of parents and siblings being killed in intertribal wars as well as being killed in the land wars? (Scott, NZ Listener, 23/9/00, p9).

What all of these responses remain silent on - and silence - is Turia’s emphasis on the ongoing effect of the colonial relation, with its internalisation of ‘the images of the oppressor’ and range of structured practices of cultural destruction:

Since first colonial contact, much effort has been invested in attempts at individualising Maori with the introduction of numerous assimilationist policies and laws to alienate Maori from their social structures which were linked to the guardianship and occupation of land (Turia, 29/8/00, p2 of 4).

In the case of de Bres’ speech, the rejections of his comparison took a number of