Ko te ata kau o te whenua i riro i a te Kuīni, ko te tinana o te whenua, waiho ki ngā Māori
The shadow of the land goes to Queen Victoria, but the substance remains with us
These words were spoken by Nōpera Panakareao, the influential leader of Te Rarawa who took over after the death of his great-uncle, the celebrated Pōroa. Panakareao and his wife Ereonora both signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi on 28 April 1840. Before they signed it, Panakareao had frequent discussions with Crown officials and missionaries about the words ‘kawanatanga’ (‘governorship’) and ‘tino rangatiratanga’ (‘sovereignty’) in Te Tiriti. After the discussions, this was his way of explaining the difference between kawanatanga (the shadow) and tino rangatiratanga (the substance) to a large gathering in Kaitāia. Through these words, Panakareao endorsed the signing of Te Tiriti. Just one year later, in 1841, he voiced his displeasure at the governor’s post-Tiriti performance. In another statement of remarkable foresight (at a time when hapū worldviews and sociopolitical systems were still dominant), he said that he feared that the substance was rapidly going to the Crown, and soon hapū would have only the shadow.1
Panakareao’s perceptive way of defining these two principles is one example of the rigorous, informed discussion that took place before rangatira chose either to sign or not to sign Te Tiriti. Pūmuka of Te Roroa and Ngāpuhi initially supported the Crown and signed both He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti. At some point around the time when Pūmuka signed He Whakaputanga, he was gifted a Union Jack by British Resident James Busby in recognition of the support and guidance that he had provided to the Crown. However, his enthusiasm and support waned, and eventually he decided to side with Hone Heke Pōkai and Te Ruki Kawiti in opposing the Crown at Kororāreka. Pūmuka took the mātāika (first victim of the battle), but he himself was killed later in the battle. His death was not in vain, as his support ensured that the alliance successfully forced the British to flee from Kororāreka to Tāmaki Makaurau.2 Mohi Tāwhai of Ngāpuhi made a statement on 12 February at Māngungu, before he signed Te Tiriti: ‘Let the tongue of everyone be free to speak; but what of it. What will be the end? Our sayings will sink to the bottom like a stone, but your sayings will float light, like the wood of the whau tree, and always remain to be seen. Am I telling lies?’ This celebrated, prophetic statement is often cited when talking about the marginalisation of Māori knowledge that did indeed follow the signing of Te Tiriti.3
Innumerable events throughout Te Tai Tokerau history attest to the ability of whānau, hapū, and rangatira such as Panakareao to adapt to new conditions, challenges, and opportunities. Some of these historical events were on a smaller scale, affecting single hapū or a number of hapū in certain geographical areas. Others were on a larger scale, affecting all of Te Tai Tokerau – and, indeed, all of Aotearoa.
The arrival of Pākehā was a major historical event that required hapū and their rangatira to change and adapt their way of life. By the mid-nineteenth century Pākehā settlers were arriving at an unprecedented rate, bringing with them different social, economic, and political worldviews. Hapū throughout Te Tai Tokerau responded to this in a range of ways, but a commonality between all hapū was a priority to remain cohesive in the face of great change.
As they had for many hundreds of years before contact with Pākehā, rangatira had the responsibility of ensuring hapū wellbeing throughout this time. While rangatira stood at the forefront and were often the ones attending inter-hapū gatherings or meeting with Crown delegates, age-old hapū leadership structures ensured that decisions were a product of hapū-wide collaboration. Rangatira conveyed the sociopolitical ambitions of the whole hapū, who would discuss and debate the best approaches to take. This reflected the fact that skilled rangatira would locate consensus among the hapū rather than make autocratic decisions on their behalf.4 This leadership structure is conveyed in the word rangatira: raranga means ‘to weave’, and tira refers to the collective. However, it is undeniable that this period in history presented hapū and rangatira with unprecedented challenges. Rangatira travelled abroad as hapū delegates and met with politicians and royalty; and, while overseas, they observed and learnt about the damaging impacts of colonisation. Back in Aotearoa, hapū met at many inter-hapū gatherings to discuss and debate the implications of ongoing relationships between hapū and Pākehā.
In the face of the many changes that were having an impact on hapū structures a clear message started emerging: that hapū needed to enter into transparent relationships with Pākehā so each side knew the other’s intentions. This message was clearly communicated in the words of Pēowhairangi rangatira Honatana, who spoke at a Kohimārama gathering hosted by Ngāti Whātua in 1860, in the area known today as Mission Bay:
Nā, e mea ana ahau kia tino rapua e tātou te tino tikanga o te hēpeta o Kuīni Wikitōria; ki te kāhore e kitea e Niu Tirani taua hēpeta, ka pēnā ō tātou whakaaro me te kōura kua pau i te waikura
Now, I say let us fully enquire into the meaning of Queen Victoria’s sceptre. If we of New Zealand do not understand that sceptre we shall be like gold eaten up by rust
Through this statement, Honatana argued that understanding the practical implications of the Queen’s authority was essential to the survival of hapū in Aotearoa. This was not to say that Honatana and other rangatira at the gathering were against forming and maintaining relationships with Pākehā; many rangatira were staunch advocates of building a positive and flourishing relationship with the newcomers. But Honatana’s message and others like it served as a reminder for hapū and their rangatira to remain vigilant and to enter into this relationship with a clear understanding of Pākehā intentions and ambitions.5
Many rangatira who guided their hapū through this time of immense change, turbulence, and growth are celebrated today for their enduring leadership and great political ability. The ability for rangatira to see their hapū through thick and thin was as necessary in the nineteenth century as it had been for thousands of years before that. The importance of enduring leadership is conveyed in the following whakataukī, which describes the special ariki of Tāmaki who wore spotted dogskin cloaks:
Ko ngā kurī purepure o Tāmaki, e kore e ngaro i te pō
Those of Tāmaki wearing the spotted dogskin cloaks never rest6
Apihai Te Kawau was a rangatira from Ngāti Whātua whose many genealogical links mean that he is often referred to as te tangata whanaunga tini (the person of many cousins). Given his many whakapapa connections, Te Kawau is credited with furthering the unification of Ngāti Whātua in the Tāmaki Makaurau isthmus. He was one of the most influential people in terms of establishing a relationship between Ngāti Whātua and the Crown. This led to the relocation of the capital city from Pēowhairangi to Tāmaki Makaurau on 18 September 1840.7 Ngāti Whātua’s relationship with the Crown was famously predicted in the remarkable prophecy made over half a century earlier by Tītahi, a Ngāti Whātua matakite,* which is as follows:
He aha te hau e wawā rā, e wawā rā?
He tiu, he raki, he tiu, he raki.
Nāna i ā mai te pūpū tarakihi ki uta,
E tīkina atu e au te kōtiu
Koia te pou whakairo ka tū ki Waitematā
Ka tū ki Waitematā i ōku wairangitanga
E tū nei, e tū nei
Tihei mauri ora!
What was the wind that was roaring and rumbling yonder?
It was the north wind, the wind in the north,
A wind that would expose the paper nautilus
Driving it ashore
And in my fevered dreams I saw that I would fetch this wind
That it might support the carved post at Waitematā
Standing, standing thus†
The carefully constructed prophecy is rich in metaphor. It refers to the north wind blowing ashore the pūpū tarakihi (paper nautilus), which only occurs in a rare westerly wind that follows a storm.8 Tītahi used the pūpū tarakihi as a metaphor for the naval ships that would be blown ashore in the north – referring to the Crown’s governance in Pēowhairangi.* The fourth line of Tītahi’s prophecy clearly states that it would be him (that is, Ngāti Whātua) who would approach the Crown and form a relationship between the two. The pou whakairo that would be erected in Waitematā is a metaphor for authority over land. Tītahi predicted that Ngāti Whātua and the Crown would share authority in Tāmaki Makaurau.
With Tītahi’s prophecy guiding them some sixty years later, Ngāti Whātua’s decision to entrench their relationship with the Crown through offering land was further influenced by complex political and economic factors. These were considered by Te Kawau and other Ngāti Whātua rangatira at meetings in Kohimārama and Māngere in 1840. As the last of these meetings concluded, it was agreed that an area of land would be gifted or ‘sold’ (we will return to this dichotomy later) to the Crown in order for them to settle in Tāmaki. Right away a group of seven envoys – including Te Kawau’s nephew Te Rēwiti (or Te Rēweti)9 – travelled to Pēowhairangi to meet with Governor William Hobson. The meeting took place on 12 February 1840, and the negotiations resulted in the gifting of land to the Crown. By the end of the year, the government had established itself in Tāmaki10 and – as Tītahi had predicted – a pou (post) was erected in Waitematā in 1841.11
A prominent reason that Te Kawau and other Ngāti Whātua rangatira extended their invitation to Hobson and the Crown was that the relationship would be one of mutual protection. The Crown would be tasked with protecting Ngāti Whātua and, in turn, the Crown would be able to establish a settlement under Ngāti Whātua’s patronage and protection. Te Kawau wanted to ensure that as well as the protection provided in principle by Te Tiriti o Waitangi – which he and other Ngāti Whātua rangatira had signed on 20 March 1840 – Ngāti Whātua had tangible protection and support from the Crown in Tāmaki.
It is important to give some context to Te Kawau’s aspiration to provide protection for his iwi. Born sometime in the late eighteenth century, he had been involved in conflict with Ngāpuhi from the early 1800s until the mid-1820s. The first of the battles he had fought in was at Moremonui in the early 1800s, in which Ngāpuhi were heavily defeated by Ngāti Whātua. In 1821, he was one of the military leaders in a campaign called Te Āmiowhenua,* in which he and a war party of some eight hundred people circumnavigated Te Ika a Māui, making war with many hapū en route. The last of these wars reignited Ngāti Whātua’s conflict with Ngāpuhi. As Te Kawau’s war party completed the last part of the campaign through Taranaki and Waikato, Te Kawau and Te Wherowhero (who had supported Te Kawau in Taranaki) heard news of Hongi Hika’s descent from Pēowhairangi to Waikato. Hika had recently equipped his Ngāpuhi warriors with muskets after his trip to Britain. Despite the sizeable Waikato army and the considerable support from Te Kawau and Ngāti Whātua, the Ngāpuhi muskets proved too much of an advantage, and the battles were disastrous for Waikato and Ngāti Whātua, with the loss of many lives in Mātakitaki and Mangauika pā.12
Thus, when Te Kawau returned to Tāmaki in 1822 he returned to a place of turbulence. Ngāti Whātua – already wary of revenge after Moremonui approximately fifteen years earlier – now also expected retaliation for having supported Te Wherowhero in Waikato. This led to the pre-emptive exodus of large groups of Ngāti Whātua, who moved away to various locations outside of Tāmaki. Despite the evacuation, war flared up again between Ngāti Whātua and Ngāpuhi, culminating in the devastating battle of Te Ika a Ranganui in 1825, in which Ngāti Whātua were defeated and were forced to leave Tāmaki almost completely. Te Kawau returned periodically to Waitematā to stoke the fires and retain his title to the land,13 but the area remained sparsely populated until Hika’s death in 1828, after which Ngāti Whātua returned to Tāmaki, to places such as Māngere, Horotiu at Waitematā, Onehunga, and Ōrākei. Te Wherowhero helped protect them while they re-established themselves throughout the 1830s.14 After their return to Tāmaki, Te Kawau built two pā in 1839 and 1843 at Ōkahu in the Ōrākei area to provide protection against attacks.15
Meanwhile the Crown needed hapū patronage in order to operate in a society that was predominantly Māori and governed by hapū social, political, and economic norms. Indeed, the 1840 census estimated that there were just 2050 Europeans in Aotearoa, the large majority of them concentrated in Te Whanganui a Tara (Wellington). Thus, when Hone Heke Pōkai and Te Ruki Kawiti’s alliance drove the British out of Kororāreka in 1845, the Crown and the settlers relied heavily on hapū protection in Tāmaki. Many accounts add weight to the fact that the Crown and the settlers lived in daily fear that Heke and Kawiti’s war party – estimated to be the most powerful army in Aotearoa at the time16 – would come and evict the Crown from Tāmaki. Some contend that it was only because of skirmishes between Heke and Kawiti’s alliance and the Crown’s ally, Tāmati Wāka Nene (who was also from Ngāpuhi) that the planned attack on Tāmaki did not eventuate.17 Although Tāmaki was never attacked by Heke and Kawiti’s alliance, rangatira such as Te Wherowhero and Paora Tūhaere – Te Kawau’s nephew and his eventual successor as Ngāti Whātua rangatira – had conveyed the message that any attack on Tāmaki would meet resistance from both Waikato and Ngāti Whātua. Thus, Ngāti Whātua and the Crown’s decision to enter into a relationship of mutual protection was completely justified, despite the fact that no attack was ever carried out.18
Another reason why Te Kawau extended his invitation to Hobson and the Crown was to form a relationship that would have economic and educational benefits for both parties. Te Kawau, who was always cognisant of what was happening outside of Ngāti Whātua lands, had seen the many benefits for hapū that had become patrons of British settlement earlier in the century. He had gained a better understanding of the dynamics of Pākehā settlement under hapū patronage through discussions with Samuel Marsden – who referred to Te Kawau as his ‘old friend’ after the pair met in 1820 – and he had calculated that British protection would be beneficial to Ngāti Whātua. Like with other settlements around Aotearoa, Ngāti Whātua did flourish after the capital moved to Tāmaki, which became the hub of economic activity. The following ancient pepeha was used to explain the booming trade in Tāmaki:
Tāmaki Herenga Waka
Tāmaki where canoes are tied up19
Records from 1852 to 1855 show that during this period approximately eight thousand waka arrived in Tāmaki from throughout the North Island, laden with a vast array of produce.20 In addition to waka, hapū purchased European-style boats. The local shipbuilding industry boomed: by 1858, fifty-three trading vessels had been bought by hapū. While some hapū from Ngāti Pāoa and Waikato moved closer to Tāmaki to share in the commercial opportunities, others travelled to Tāmaki with their own produce. Ngāti Whātua often acted as merchants, organising the distribution and trade of produce that had been brought to Tāmaki by other hapū. While trade was one of the factors pulling hapū towards Tāmaki, Ōrākei was also a centre of political discussion, where hapū from as far afield as Gisborne would congregate to discuss matters of relevance throughout Aotearoa.
As for the educational benefits for Ngāti Whātua, churches were established in various places around Tāmaki, including in Mission Bay. They provided a religious education, and they also taught skills in horticulture, healthcare, animal husbandry, house building, trade, and industry, as well as European dress and manners. Perhaps the most sought-after skill, though, was the ability to read and write, and there were soon more among Ngāti Whātua who were literate than among the settler population.21
Given some of the positive outcomes experienced by Ngāti Whātua in the initial years, it has been argued that in many ways the relationship with the Crown fulfilled Te Kawau’s expectations.22 However, Te Kawau had serious concerns about the way the relationship was unfolding, especially in terms of the amount of land that was being ‘sold’ and thus lost by Ngāti Whātua. The land sales were inherently dubious and fabricated; and in some cases, land was outright stolen as the number of settlers increased at an unprecedented rate and the government scrambled to find land for them. While Te Kawau and other Ngāti Whātua rangatira learnt about and adapted to British understandings of land ownership, by and large the British remained ignorant or unappreciative of Māori understandings of land occupation.23
To return to the initial 3000 acres that Te Kawau offered to the Crown: he understood this as a gift to begin a relationship of reciprocity, rather than an isolated transaction. The Crown gave a small amount of money in exchange for the land, but this payment was of little significance to Te Kawau. He saw the gifting of land as an opportunity for Ngāti Whātua and the Crown to come together in a relationship of mutual benefit. From a Māori understanding of tuku whenua (gifting land), Te Kawau was certainly not giving away Ngāti Whātua’s rights to use that land by giving the Crown exclusive rights to the land. This understanding is captured in Te Kawau’s own description of Auckland as a township that stood on Ngāti Whātua lands.24 Besides, it was well within Māori norms to provide newly invited groups with an adequately sized piece of land to enable them to establish a settlement and grow crops. While land was often provided for newcomers, they never had exclusive rights to that land.25
Despite Te Kawau’s expectation that land would be shared between the two groups, it soon became apparent that the Crown was securing exclusive rights to land for British settlers. Te Kawau, when he realised this, quickly changed his approach, and his initial willingness to gift land in order to cement relationships with the Crown (and the settlers) was replaced with his actively discouraging tuku whenua in the early 1850s.26 Not only did he discourage his own Ngāti Whātua people, he also used political channels with British leadership to encourage the government to refrain from buying more land. He also began his campaign – which would occupy him for nearly two decades – to protect Ōrākei for Ngāti Whātua. Protection of Ōrākei had been consistent from the very beginning of the relationship with the Crown in 1840, when Ngāti Whātua had indicated that it was special land and would not be gifted or ‘sold’.27 Ōrākei was historically much bigger than the block of land recognised in contemporary times; it included a large part of Remuera. However, in the 1850s the government started to ‘buy’ land from the Remuera side of Ōrākei. When Governor Grey left Aotearoa in 1853, Te Kawau told Grey to speak directly to the Queen and ask her to reserve Ōrākei and create a deed to protect it for Ngāti Whātua. He also composed the following waiata to commemorate Grey’s leaving, which some people say secretly referred to Te Kawau’s fear of losing the land:28
Te ao kapua e rere mai rā
Kei te moana rā, ī
Ki konei au mihi atu ai
Tangi atu ai
Ki tāku nei tamaiti
Ehara i te tangata [engari]
Ko te whatu toto o te ngākau29
The clouds on yonder horizon
Across the sea, are playing with
the winds, while I am here
Yearning and weeping for my son –
Ah! he’s more than a son to me;
he is my heart’s blood30
* Tītahi (also known as Tītai) delivered the prophecy in the late eighteenth century; some accounts give the exact date of 1780 (I. H. Kawharu, 1975, p. 20; M. Kawharu, 2008, p. 23). Other retellings do not specify the date, but agree that the event happened many years before Te Kawau’s invitation to the Crown (Ngāti Whātua and The Crown, 2011, p. 8).
† This pepeha or tauparapara often punctuates the whaikōrero of Ngāti Whātua speakers, and in more recent times has been adapted into a waiata (M. Kawharu, 2008, p. 23; V. Smith, 2017, p. 200).
* Another interpretation of the north wind is that it refers to Te Tiriti o Waitangi (Ngāti Whātua and The Crown, 2011, p. 9).
* The name of this campaign refers to the pathway that Te Kawau and his war party took, circling Te Ika a Māui by going down the east coast, arriving in Te Whanganui a Tara (and, some say, crossing over to Te Waipounamu) before coming back up the west coast. The campaign was one of the longest war expeditions in Aotearoa: it covered some 1600 km. It is estimated that the Ngāti Whātua collective, along with those from Ngāti Maniapoto, Waikato, and Ngāti Maru who joined along the way, were between 600 and 800 strong at different points of the campaign (A. Pihema, R. Kerei, & S. Oliver, 1990). It was military expeditions like this that influenced the name Te Kawau took on when he was baptised, Apihai – after a biblical person called Abishai, who was known for being a great warrior (ibid.).
Hone Heke Pōkai and Te Ruki Kawiti have been widely recognised for their roles in nineteenth-century politics – particularly the mid-nineteenth century resistance against the Crown. Conversely, although Hariata Rongo is frequently acknowledged by many hapū throughout Te Tai Tokerau for her important undertakings during and after the conflict, she is less well recognised on a national scale. Some people have argued that we must better recognise the important role that Māori women have played throughout Aotearoa’s history: we must write them into our history books and into our consciousness as a nation.31
Rongo was a woman of great mana, inherited from her parents Hongi Hika and Turikātuku. Another name of hers was Matenga, given to her at her birth on 9 or 10 January 1815; this name recognised Samuel Marsden, founder of the first Church Missionary Society site in Aotearoa. The union of Rongo and Heke was formalised on 30 March 1837 when they were married in the Kerikeri chapel.32 Rongo’s mana was immense, and Heke’s influence was amplified by it.33 Heke was also a revered rangatira, the descendant of Rāhiri through the genealogical line of his mother, Te Kona. He was born after the battle of Moremonui in 1807 or 1808, and the name Pōkai was given to him to acknowledge his mother’s older brother Pōkaia, who died at Moremonui. Although he was a descendant of Rāhiri, Heke did not have the political authority of the mātāmua – the firstborn – as he had two older brothers. Nonetheless, his status as a rangatira grew steadily throughout his lifetime, through his actions, energy, and prowess.
Throughout the 1830s Heke established himself as a war leader of immense capability and bravery, engaging in a series of inter-hapū conflicts. When he became the first rangatira to sign Te Tiriti o Waitangi* on 6 February 1840 he was an experienced veteran and his mana had been firmly established. Despite signing Te Tiriti, Heke and many other rangatira soon became dissatisfied with the Crown’s attempts to breach the agreement. In addition, the governor had begun to assert his authority in ways that Te Tiriti had not stipulated.34 Heke was growing increasingly concerned that the mana of hapū and Māori ways of enforcing law were being usurped by the Queen and the Crown in Aotearoa, despite the promise in Article 2 of Te Tiriti that Māori would retain tino rangatiratanga.35 Land was also a prominent issue. The infamous and powerful New Zealand Company had been lobbying the House of Commons select committee who, in turn, recommended that all ‘unoccupied’ land be transferred to Crown ownership.36 Post-Tiriti actions by the Crown were rapidly starting to undermine the flourishing Pēowhairangi economy. Just months after Te Tiriti was signed, the capital was moved from Pēowhairangi to Tāmaki Makaurau under the patronage of Apihai Te Kawau and Ngāti Whātua, taking commerce away from Heke and other Ngāpuhi rangatira.37 Many rangatira had been charging vessels coming into their ports in and around Pēowhairangi; Heke himself had been collecting five pounds per vessel.38 However, the government now prohibited rangatira from charging vessels and began levying this charge itself.39 The Crown also introduced a fee of ten shillings per acre of land sold by Māori.40
Heke’s dissatisfaction with these political and economic changes coincided with new understandings of the way colonisation had manifested elsewhere in the world. His knowledge of colonisation had been gleaned from other rangatira who had travelled overseas. Makoare Te Taonui from the hapū Te Popoto travelled to Sydney in the 1830s, where he observed the British mistreatment of Indigenous people in Australia. As a result of this experience Te Taonui, while he was a proponent of British control over their own settlers, rejected any proposals for similar control over hapū.41 Likewise, in 1814 Hongi Hika had been part of a group that had travelled on a diplomatic mission to Sydney, where they were hosted by Marsden. While there, they had observed the situation of Indigenous Australians, and locals had advised them to curtail the power wielded by Europeans in Aotearoa.42 Hika and Waikato travelled to England in 1820 and famously met King George IV. Hika saw British Redcoats for the first time in Sydney and England. This was a profound experience for him as, until then, he had never seen a person whose sole purpose was war – unlike Māori warriors, who would have many other hapū responsibilities as well. As Hika lay dying of consumption in 1828 one of his final messages was to tell his people to protect the settlers and missionaries, but to be wary of the British Redcoat:
If ever there should land on this shore a people who wear red garments, who do not work, who neither buy nor sell, and who always have arms in their hands, then beware, these are a people called soldiers, a dangerous people, whose only occupation is war. When you see them, make war on them. Then O my children, be brave that you may not be enslaved, and that your country may not become the possession of strangers.43
While Te Tiriti signatories had agreed on a partnership between hapū and the Crown, rangatira such as Hika and Waikato had seen the inequalities that were rife in the British homeland. Particularly in Britain but also in Sydney, they had observed crippling inequality where, for example, the same street would house the two extremes of wealth – people living in prosperous mansions next to those in poverty-stricken slums. Based on the observation of such unfairness existing among the Crown’s own people, rangatira were quick to question the Crown’s authenticity when it came to equitable partnerships.44 Heke had also engaged in discussions with American ambassadors and traders and, through them, had learnt about the struggle for independence in America. He was apparently an admirer of George Washington in his role as one of the political and military leaders in the fight for American independence. British representatives such as Governor FitzRoy were becoming concerned about what they perceived to be the Americans endorsing a struggle for independence in Aotearoa.45
Hapū and rangatira reacted in different ways to the unfavourable events that unfolded after the signing of Te Tiriti. Heke’s own reaction was to challenge the sovereignty of the Crown. His first move was to remove a symbol of British power in Aotearoa – the British flagstaff in Kororāreka. On the first occasion, in July 1844, a contingent of his supporters chopped the flagpole down. Given its significance as a symbol of Crown authority its felling precipitated the first large-scale conflict between the Crown and hapū in Aotearoa. The flag has been referred to as:
Te pūtake o te riri
The root (origin) of the war46
At this stage of the conflict, Heke was satisfied with what he considered the relatively minor action of cutting down the flagstaff.* The British response was to re-erect the flag, to which Heke responded by cutting it down again, further antagonising the British by acquiring an American flag and flying it from his own boat. For the third time the flag was re-erected, and for the third time, Heke cut it down.47
Aside from the comic nature of this exchange,† many commentators have stated that throughout this escapade, while it was well within Heke’s power to take more serious military action against the British, he did not. There were a number of reasons why he targeted the flagstaff instead of British soldiers, or even the governor himself. First, his action issued a challenge to the Crown and forced it to respond, both politically and physically. Second, Heke knew that his aims would be achievable only if he had substantial support from other hapū and their rangatira.48 Felling the flagstaff sent a symbolic message of resistance to potential allies around Te Tai Tokerau, some of whom would become crucial supporters in the war that was to follow. It also kept open potential alliances between Heke and those hapū who had already converted to Christianity. Heke signalled to these hapū that his resistance adhered to the tenets of Christianity – targeting an object that was symbolic of the Crown rather than waging war on British settlers themselves. It was especially important to Heke not to harm settlers – an ethos that was maintained consistently throughout the whole campaign.49
Heke was persistent in his efforts to acquire political and military support. When he approached Te Ruki Kawiti of Ngāti Hine with his ngākau, his request for support, he came with a mere pounamu smeared in excrement. No words were needed: Kawiti immediately understood that the mere pounamu symbolised Ngāpuhi’s mana, and the excrement represented the fact that this mana was being defiled by the Crown.50 From this point onwards, Heke and Kawiti formed a powerful political alliance, joining together with a number of other prominent rangatira and their hapū who supported them in the impending conflicts with the Crown.
Heke also considered how felling the flagstaff would be perceived by FitzRoy and British authorities overseas. He calculated that harming or killing any British soldiers or settlers would probably ignite a military response. Conversely, it was unlikely that the relatively minor act of chopping down the flagstaff would lead to any major conflict. This prediction was accurate: representatives in London and Sydney were sympathetic51 but FitzRoy’s requests for military support and Crown intervention were refused.*
Kawiti noted that while chopping down the flagstaff had achieved its objective, their next response should be more severe:
Poroporoa ngā ringaringa me ngā waewae
Cut off the hands and legs [the substance of the Crown]52
Kawiti’s words were a preface to the next phase of the campaign. On 11 March 1845 the alliance – now with considerable political and military support – moved towards a head-on confrontation with the Crown.53 The flagstaff had once more been erected, with a newly established contingent of British troops and a musket-proof blockhouse to guard the flag. This time Heke, Kawiti, and their alliance had more ambitious goals than to chop down the flagstaff; they planned to drive the British presence out of Kororāreka.54 This they achieved: in a three-pronged attack the alliance defeated the British troops and drove the military presence and the settlers from Kororāreka. The British found refuge on the nearby ship, the Hazard. The alliance had lost a number of people but it was a resounding victory.
The victory allowed Heke to disseminate an important message throughout Aotearoa about the reputation of the British troops. Before Kororāreka, the Redcoats, as they were sometimes called, had been largely an untested force, but they had established a reputation as fearsome and unrelenting – hence Hika’s words of warning.55 At Kororāreka Heke’s alliance had dispatched the troops with relative ease. Heke informed his allies, and other hapū around Aotearoa, that the Redcoats were not the force they had been made out to be, and that they had not lived up to their reputation.56
During the fighting in Kororāreka, Kawiti had tested himself against the infamous British Redcoat. When Te Roroa rangatira Pūmuka was killed in the conflict, Kawiti saw a British officer advancing on another group of warriors, wielding a sword. Although he was an old man by then, Kawiti stood in front of the officer and said to those around him:
E te whānau, tukua mai ki ahau
My people, leave him to come to me
An eyewitness, Mikaera Rīni from Panguru, recalled Kawiti holding his taiaha and kneeling down in readiness for the officer’s attack. If the officer had known how invulnerable Kawiti was in this position he might have changed his method of attack; as it was, he continued to advance with his sword. The officer was thrown to the ground and dispatched by Kawiti with his mere.57
Although various parties tried to negotiate peace between the alliance and the Crown, after He Whakaputanga in 1835 and Te Tiriti in 1840, Heke was growing tired of Crown promises and empty rhetoric and was unwilling to engage in peace discussions. He expressed this sentiment in a statement he made to the missionary Henry Williams, who acted as peacemaker post Kororāreka:
I am not to be caught like an unfledged tui. I thoroughly understand the game the Governor is playing. His cards are great guns and muskets. His words are soft as down, but they mean cannon-balls, soldiers, sailors and leaden bullets.58
Heke’s subsequent move was to suggest Tāmaki as his next target. The Crown immediately put a number of measures in place to protect Auckland, but despite these, prominent British representatives such as FitzRoy and Williams did not doubt Heke’s ability to do to Tāmaki what he had done to Kororāreka. Even though Pāora Tūhaere had promised the military support of Ngāti Whātua, and the same message had been conveyed by Pōtatau Te Wherowhero of Waikato, British representatives were fearful of the alliance’s capability.59 Some say that the alliance between Heke and Kawiti and the hapū that supported them was the most powerful military force in Aotearoa at the time.60 There are theories that one of the reasons Heke did not follow through with an attack was that he was hampered by frequent skirmishes with Tāmati Wāka Nene, one of the Crown’s main allies.61 Another probable reason is that Heke knew that the military tactics that he and the alliance wanted to employ were better suited if the British troops came to Te Tai Tokerau and fought on their terms, rather than in the less familiar Tāmaki region.62
In the ensuing military campaign, the alliance engaged in a series of pā conflicts with the British. The alliance built or reconstructed three pā; and they occupied another during their battle with Te Taonui and Nene. The pā used in conflict with the British were Puketūtū (at Lake Ōmāpere), Ōhaeawai (northeast of Kaikohekohe), and Ruapekapeka (south of Kawakawa). Heke was a central figure in the victory over the Crown at Puketūtū, but shortly afterwards he was shot through the thigh in a battle between his alliance and Te Taonui and Nene’s alliance at Te Ahuahu.* After this injury, he was forced to retreat inland to recover in the healing hotsprings at Ngāwhā, just east of Kaikohekohe. His injuries prevented him joining the battle at Ōhaeawai, but Heke returned with some sixty warriors to support the alliance at Ruapekapeka.63 After the three battles with the Crown, the conflict ‘ended’ on 11 January 1846 at Ruapekapeka pā, with the alliance forces eventually leaving Ruapekapeka and retreating into the nearby forest; the British did not follow them in as they had devised no strategy for combating Māori forest warfare.
Diplomatic negotiations followed, with Nene taking the role of intermediary.* He advocated for a peaceful settlement between the two sides. He advised Grey that to pursue further warfare with the alliance would put Te Tai Tokerau in an even more fragile political position, and might push the hapū who were neutral or who had half-heartedly sided with the Crown to instead side with Heke.
Despite the Crown losing more troops over the whole campaign, the years of war had meant that the alliance forces were depleted and – unlike the British – they did not have reinforcements arriving by boat in between each phase of the battle. Kawiti and Heke wrote independently to establish peace with the Crown. Heke said that it would be more appropriate and symbolic of goodwill for him and Grey to put up the flagstaff in the peace resolutions, rather than the Crown’s Māori allies. Thus, the campaign ended and both sides drifted into what has been called ‘an uncertain interval of peace’. It was a number of years before Heke and Grey came face to face in Te Waimate, where Heke presented Grey with a greenstone mere. The mere symbolised Heke’s acceptance that Grey was in Aotearoa, but also laid down his expectation that, in his role as the Queen’s representative, the governor would honour Te Tiriti o Waitangi.64
Written resistance was another method the alliance employed to challenge the Crown’s attempts to usurp Ngāpuhi’s mana and take their sovereignty and land. Heke himself wrote letters throughout the campaign, using the literacy skills he had acquired at the Kerikeri mission school in 1824 and 1825. Heke had excelled at school and was an able writer, but it was his wife Hariata Rongo who was the eloquent wordsmith of the two.† Rongo grew up immersed in both te ao Māori, living among her hapū in Kororipo pā, and in the Pākehā world, living with the missionaries Charlotte and James Kemp and their family in Kerikeri.* Her literacy flourished under the tutelage of the Kemps to such an extent that later in life she corresponded with British dignitaries, including politicians, governors, and monarchs.65
There is evidence to suggest that Rongo was the primary letter writer. Probably the most telling evidence is a statement that Rongo herself made to the artist Joseph Merrett in 1846 following the conflict at Ruapekapeka. While Rongo’s meeting with Merrett was held to discuss wider political implications for both Ngāpuhi and the Crown, the conversation included discussion about the letters written throughout the campaign. Rongo clearly stated that she had written a letter for Heke. Further research that analysed handwriting, writing style, and signatures has found that many of Heke’s letters were penned by Rongo.66
While Rongo – as an eloquent and talented writer – may have been the primary letter writer, Heke’s involvement in composing the letters should not be discounted.† It is significant that the writers of the letters made the decision to sign off the letters with Heke’s name. Letter writing was often a collaborative process that could involve the whole hapū, and the content of the letters was often debated and confirmed by the collective, rather than one individual writer.67 Rangatira and kaumātua would listen to the opinions of others before a collective decision was made.68 This process was recorded in a journal by Reverend Robert Burrows, who arrived in Hikurangi (where Heke was living at the time) at the same time as a letter to Grey was being finalised. Burrows observed a small group of people working on the letter throughout the day, and he was present when the hapū arrived at a meeting to further discuss the letter. After everyone had arrived, Grey’s letter to Heke was read aloud. Heke could not help interjecting when he read the words ‘The Treaty of Waitangi’, commenting that the Treaty was akin to ‘he rore kiore’ (a rat trap).69 The hapū’s reply to Grey was then read aloud and a number of alterations were made. The process was completed just before midnight, with all present agreeing that that letter should be sent to Grey. Despite the serious content of the reply, the letter concluded with a touch of humour. Given that Grey had recently arrived and taken on the position as governor, he had signed his letter with Kawana hou (the ‘new Governor’). In turn, the reply was signed off with ‘Hone Heke Pokai hou’.70
Many of the letters written collaboratively (and signed by Heke) contain the rationale for political actions undertaken by the alliance. One such letter, written to FitzRoy on 21 May 1845 (before the series of pā conflicts, but after the British had been driven from Kororāreka), asked a series of questions that would become some of the most important political questions in Aotearoa. The writers of the letter asked FitzRoy where the protection guaranteed by Te Tiriti had gone. They pointed to the injustices experienced by Indigenous peoples in colonised countries nearby, such as Australia and the Pacific Islands, and even countries further afield such as China. They commented that, without action, Aotearoa would be added to that list.* One of the most pertinent points made in the letter was to ask FitzRoy a simple but powerful question: ‘If you demand our land, where are we to go?’ While this question reveals a simple reason for the alliance’s resistance against the Crown, interestingly, the letter’s writers followed up with some suggestions, showing that they were quite prepared to consider many options for resolving ongoing disputes. They asked, ‘[Will we go] to Port Jackson? To England? If you will consider about giving us a vessel it will be very good.’ Finally, they left the decision to FitzRoy, saying that the alliance was ready to fight, or – if the governor proposed an adequate resolution – to make peace. When FitzRoy was replaced by Grey, Heke reinforced this message in unambiguous terms: he told the new governor to return to England with his soldiers, and that, if they did not, the war would continue.71
Another letter, sent on 2 July 1849, was addressed to Governor Grey and written from Heke’s residence in Tautoro (just a year before Heke’s death on 6 or 7 August 1850).72 It outlined Heke’s frustration that he had not secured passage on a ship to Auckland to meet Grey in Tāmaki Makaurau after their brief meeting in Te Waimate. A distinctive feature of this particular letter was the celebrated mōteatea (composition or lament) that was attached to it. As with many of the other letters, research has found that this letter was penned by Rongo. This has led to speculation that the mōteatea may have been a product of collaboration by Heke, Rongo, and possibly other members of the hapū.73 An interpretation of the mōteatea is that it relates to their criticism of the decision to move the capital from Pēowhairangi to Tāmaki. It also condemns Grey for sending bitter or empty messages from afar, rather than meeting rangatira to discuss issues face to face.74 The mōteatea is as follows:
Kāhore te kī patu te makere noa i te ngutu
He pōrutu waihoe i a Kāwana i runga e
E mātau ana i roto i te hau kōrero
E herengia koia te rākau ka whiria e
Tē āta whakarangona ngā mahi a te arero
Ko tō tinana rā i waiho atu i tawhiti e
Ko tō pai reo kau ka tuku mai ki ahau,
Kia huaia atu, e arotau mai ana e
Ko te tiriwā te ripa ki Akarana
Kua pūawhea te rae ki Tautoro
Ka whakamutu anō ngā rangi o te whakarongo e
How oft bitter words fall needlessly from the lips
Now is heard the paddle song of the Governor from above
It is heard upon the voice of the winds
Arms [weapons] are fastened and plaited together
Unheeded were the words from the lips
You have remained and reside at a distance
Thy fine words only have arrived
In order that I might trust though is inclined my way
The dividing line was at Auckland
And stormy winds blew upon Tautoro
Here is an end to the days of listening*
* Throughout this section, we refer to the agreement signed in 1840 as Te Tiriti o Waitangi (the document in te reo Māori), rather than the Treaty of Waitangi (the English-language document). This is because Te Tiriti was the agreement that was signed by rangatira. Many hapū today do not acknowledge the Treaty of Waitangi, as it was never signed by rangatira (S. Healy, I. Huygens, & T. Murphy, 2012, p. 155). As Hone Sadler notes, as soon as our ancestors’ signatures had marked Te Tiriti, that document met its demise in the eyes of the Crown, and a taniwha called the Treaty of Waitangi stood in its place (H. Sadler, 2014, pp. 162–63).
* The numerical superiority of Heke’s supporters over the Crown at this stage was reflected on a wider scale. Despite an increasing Crown and settler presence, Aotearoa was predominantly Māori in the 1840s. Kororāreka in 1844 was a microcosm of this demographic; approximately 500 Europeans lived in a wider geographical area that was home to some 12,000 Māori (P. Moon, 2001, p. 45). European powers were unable to control their own population, let alone Māori. This is evident in the fact that when turbulence erupted in Kororāreka, the police hid in their own cells (P. Moon, 2001, p. 41).
† Ranginui Walker’s tongue-in-cheek observation was that while the Americans assassinate presidents, in Aotearoa we cut down flagpoles (R. Walker, 2004, p. 103).
* While FitzRoy’s requests for troops were declined, a strategy he employed was to offer a reward of 100 pounds to anyone who apprehended Heke and delivered him to a police station in Auckland or in Russell. This was widely considered an unrealistic strategy, with the comment being made that even if the reward was 1000 pounds, no one would dare, let alone be capable of apprehending Heke. As for Heke himself, he responded with the statement asking, ‘Am I a pig that I am thus to be bought and sold?’ Furthermore, underlined by a streak of humour that was to recur over this campaign, Heke issued his own reward for the apprehension of Governor FitzRoy (P. Moon, 2001, pp. 68–69). After the campaign ‘ended’ in Ruapekapeka, Heke gave Governor Grey a large pig – as a token of peace, and as a reference to this earlier incident (R. Walker, 2004, p. 104).
* The conflict at Te Ahuahu, east of Ōmāpere, was between Te Taonui and Nene’s alliance and Heke. Te Taonui and Nene managed to drive Heke out of Te Ahuahu pā, and handed him the biggest defeat of the whole campaign – which is ironic, given that the British had no military involvement in this war (P. Moon, 2001, p. 116).
* Not only was Nene an intermediary in peace negotiations between the Crown and the alliance, he also built a mill for Heke and Kawiti’s alliance as a peace gesture – with the money that he received for supporting the Crown (C. O. Davis, 1876, p. 6).
† In 2000, a writing slate of Rongo’s was found with Rongo’s handwriting on it from 1831, and to this day this is the earliest extant piece of writing by a Māori woman. She was approximately 16 at the time (A. Middleton, 2018, p. 90).
* Rongo living with the Kemps showed the strengths of Māori hapū-based living, where children were not raised by nuclear families but were instead raised by the wider collective, benefiting from the skills and knowledge held by everyone. While Rongo lived with the Kemps, this was not a separation from her hapū and Kororipo: she lived and thrived in both settings and grew to be a woman with knowledge of te ao Pākehā, te ao Māori, and te ao Ngāpuhi (A. Middleton, 2018, p. 101).
† Collaboration between partners was normal for many hapū. In Te Tai Tokerau there are countless examples of female rangatira who were both leaders and politicians, many of equal or higher status than their male counterparts. Rongo’s own mother Turikātuku and her father Hongi Hika are an example of a union where both the female and male held important political roles in their hapū. Even in war, Turikātuku and Hika were an inseparable unit, travelling and fighting together in many battles. Extraordinarily, despite being completely blind, Turikātuku was a celebrated war strategist. She was also a source of motivation for the Ngāpuhi warriors and was present at Te Ika a Ranganui in 1825 (where Rongo was also present). Before the conflict, Turikātuku addressed the entire assembly of Ngāpuhi warriors and reminded them to be courageous for the impending battle, and that their courage would ensure that they would return to their beloved wives and children (A. Ballara, 1990; A. Middleton, 2018, p. 96).
* Comparing Aotearoa to other colonised countries was something that Heke did in later letters, too. In 1848 he wrote a letter in which he gave ‘no toku kainga, no Haina’ (‘from my home, from China’) as his address at the beginning of the letter, and he concluded it with ‘kei Tautoro Haina e noho ana’ (‘I am living at Chinese Tautoro’) (A. Middleton, 2018, p. 90).
* This translation was by Apirana Ngata and Sir George Grey, a translation that was endorsed by Hone Sadler in his 2014 book Ko Tautoro te Pito o Tōku Ao. Various versions of the mōteatea were used by rangatira such as Te Kēmara, Taurau Tirarau, and Wiremu Tāmihana throughout the rest of the nineteenth century (H. Sadler, 2014, p. 105). It is still used by rangatira in contemporary times, such as in Willow-Jean Prime’s maiden speech to Parliament (W.-J. Prime, 2017).
Āperahama Taonui made many important contributions to political discussion and action in Te Tai Tokerau in the nineteenth century that had implications for all of Aotearoa. He lived during a time of important political engagement with the Crown and Pākehā in a more general sense. His father Makoare Te Taonui signed He Whakaputanga in 1838, and Āperahama Taonui was a signatory to Te Tiriti o Waitangi in 1840, on behalf of his hapū Te Popoto.75 Some twenty years later, he became an inaugural member of George Grey’s rūnanga (Māori-led council). At these rūnanga, he worked alongside other prominent rangatira such as Tāmati Wāka Nene, Maihi Paraone Kawiti, and Hāre Hongi Hika, to name just a few. One of Taonui’s most poignant political statements was in 1867 when four Māori parliamentary seats were created: he famously asked, ‘What are four to do among so many Pākehās; where will their voices be as compared with the Pākehā voices?’76 This statement reflected his displeasure at the political representation that Māori had in Parliament: there were only four Māori voices to represent an estimated 50,000 Māori, whereas there were sixty-six voices to represent an estimated 250,000 Pākehā.77 Another of Taonui’s notable political acts was the establishment of Te Kotahitanga, which later became the Māori parliament.78
One of Taonui’s notable but less well-known political acts was the development of a charter of rights that he called Mākana Tāta (after the Magna Carta). Taonui unveiled his thoughts relating to Mākana Tāta in a letter called ‘Te Taki a Aperahama Taonui’ (The Speech of Aperahama Taonui),* which was published in 1856 in the Māori newspaper Te Karere Maori: Maori Messenger.
The inspiration for Taonui’s proposed charter of rights, the Magna Carta, was signed in England in the 1200s. This charter – as Taonui summarises in his letter – was brought to the King of England by barons who demanded that he sign the document. Of particular interest to Taonui was the charter’s statement about the protection of property. He wrote the following:
Korero ana ratou [ngā Parona], ka mutu; haere ana ki taua kingi; meaatu ana ki aia whakaae ki nga kupu kua rite ia ratou, a me tuhituhi tona ingoa hei tohu whakaae, koia nei etahi o nga mea i whakaaetia e taua kingi; ko te tangata i whai taonga, mana ano ana taonga, a ko nga rangatira o te kingi kia kaua e tango noa i te taonga o nga mokai … ko te ingoa o taua pukapuka nei ko ‘Makana Tata’.*
[The barons] met and demanded of this king certain terms which they required him to sign, some of which were that every man should enjoy his own property, and that the Chiefs of the King should not take any thing by force unless the law allow it … This document that the King signed was called ‘Magna Charta’.79
Taonui used the Magna Carta as a basis to advocate for a similar approach in Aotearoa, suggesting that rangatira come together and put a proposal to the governor to entrench the protection of their taonga in in the constitutional history of Aotearoa.80 Some commentators have interpreted the retention of taonga as the retention of tino rangatiratanga (Māori customary authority), an authority rooted in the possession of land and resources.81 While Taonui wanted to protect taonga, thus guaranteeing tino rangatiratanga, he also wanted the inclusion of English laws that would govern all people living in Aotearoa.82 His proposal has since been summarised as a mixture of Māori and English systems of law, governance, and authority. Taonui did not state in his letter what English laws he wanted to have in Aotearoa, but some commentators suggest that part of his work in later years was to use his position in Grey’s rūnanga to frame laws that could be later ratified by the Mākana Tāta.83
It is probable that Taonui used ‘taonga’ in the Māori version of his letter as an all-encompassing concept that included land and resources (and, thus, the retention of tino rangatiratanga). His choice of the word is consistent with the language used in Te Tiriti o Waitangi.84 Article 2 of Te Tiriti stated that hapū and iwi would retain ‘te tino rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa’ [emphasis added].
Taonui’s advocacy for a combination of Māori authority and English law was consistent with his beliefs in other political forums. Although he had signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi, he was displeased that the document was sitting on top of a Union Jack rather than a Māori cloak. Like Hone Heke Pōkai, who chopped down the British flagstaff in Kororāreka some four years after the signing of Te Tiriti, Taonui was concerned that the flag represented the intrusion of the British worldview at the expense of the Māori worldview. Taonui saw Te Tiriti as compatible with the continuation of Ngāpuhi spiritual, economic, and political ways of operating, captured in his powerful metaphor:
E ngā rangatira o Ngāpuhi, whakarongo mai. Kaua e uhi Te Tiriti o Waitangi ki te kara o Ingarangi, engari me uhi anō ki tōu kara Māori, ki te kahu o tēnei motu
Ngāpuhi chiefs, listen to me. Don’t cover the Treaty of Waitangi with the English flag, but cover it with your own flag, with the cloak of this island85
Taonui acted on his own philosophy of sharing political power between Māori and Pākehā in 1881 when he opened Te Tiriti o Waitangi wharenui at Te Tii, Waitangi. A monument was erected displaying the Māori text of Te Tiriti. Taonui ensured that the document was covered first with a Māori cloak and then a Union Jack before it was unveiled by Governor Arthur Gordon.86
A parallel has been drawn between Taonui’s political aspirations and his religious beliefs.87 His political and religious beliefs incorporated aspects of both the Māori world and the Pākehā world. After his early education with missionaries and further schooling at a Wesleyan school in Auckland, for much of his younger years he was a practising Wesleyan. As he grew older, he converted to the Papahurihia religion, established by Penetana Papahurihia – also known as Te Atua Wera.* This was not a rejection of Christianity, but rather Taonui’s turning to a religion that included Māori, Christian, and Jewish beliefs and spirituality.88
Taonui’s Mākana Tāta proposal was released at the same time as the Kīngitanga movement was emerging: the first Māori monarch, Pōtatau Te Wherowhero was elected in 1858. Mākana Tāta differed in a key way from the Kīngitanga. As Wiremu Tāmihana Tarapīpipi Te Waharoa of Ngāti Hauā stated, the Kīngitanga strived to install a Māori monarch who would govern Māori in the same way as the governor governed Pākehā – the Kīngitanga and the settler government would govern alongside one another. Conversely, Taonui proposed that Mākana Tāta would be a bilateral charter that would pertain to both Māori and Pākehā (whereas the Kīngitanga’s proclamations would be unilateral and would pertain only to Māori).89
Taonui and his father Makoare Te Taonui shared their political ideology relating to the incorporation of English law. Āperahama Taonui wrote an obituary for his father that was published in Te Karere in 1862. In it, he informs readers of some of his father’s final words:
Ko tana kupu tenei i mua atu o tona matenga: ‘Kia piri ki te Pakeha, ki a te Kawana, ki nga ture, hei tiaki i a koutou …’
This was his injunction immediately before he died: ‘Cling to the Europeans, to the Governor, and to the law, that these may be your protectors …’90
Taonui continued to advocate for Mākana Tāta until his death in 1882.91 He intended for it to be a charter that was as significant as Te Tiriti o Waitangi and He Whakaputanga. Given that it never came to fruition, it is difficult to speculate on the impact that Taonui’s Mākana Tāta may have had on how Aotearoa was governed, how laws were made, and the prevention of land alienation. That said, some commentators have noted that it had the potential to dramatically change the relationship between the then fragile settler government and hapū. While the context has changed significantly in present-day Aotearoa, these commentators argue that the Mākana Tāta and Āperahama Taonui’s political thought can still provide guidelines for constitutional discussion today.92
* The title suggests it was a speech. This appears to have been a common device among Māori writers, who penned their letters as if they were delivering whaikōrero (T. Karetū, 2002, p. 1).
* Taonui’s letters have been left unedited.
* It is noteworthy that Āperahama Taonui aligned himself with Papahurihia, as the two fought against each other in Heke and Kawiti’s war against the Crown and its supporters (Taonui on the Crown’s side and Papahurihia on the side of Heke and Kawiti) (B. Elsmore, 1989, p. 53).