NOT ONE MORE ACRE!
By Erin Lee. For Humanities 300: Critiquing the Museum, Semester One, 2019.
Photo Credit: Erin Lee
Not One More Acre! is a photographic exhibition that commemorates the 40th anniversary of the Bastion Point occupation by Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei. Once visitors navigate their way through the sprawling Maori Court the exhibition can be found in an alcove flanking Hotunui, the museum’s whare whakairo. Marking the beginning of the exhibition is a photograph of Joe Hawke, leader of the 1977-1978 Bastion point, and Dame Whina Cooper. This is a story which is specific to Tamaki Makaurau but the opening image also places it within the wider context of the Maori protest movement of the 1970s and 1980s. Bastion Point’s history of occupations, evictions and the settlement that eventually saw it returned to the mana whenua is a local story but its importance was felt throughout the country.
The photographs are arranged in clusters, which visually serve to tell the story of the occupations at Bastion Point. They foster a multivocality which rightfully depict the occupations as a collective effort by a community to fight against land alienation. Defining the exhibition space is the plywood paneling that wraps around the side of the divider which on one side is the beginning of Not One More Acre, and on the other is a wall playing a video relating to the Treaty of Waitangi exhibition which Not One More Acre shares the alcove with. The proximity to this exhibition works well as the story of Bastion Point is, after all, a fantastic local case study which connects to the wider history of the Treaty. As the exhibition documents, the Bastion Point occupations were situated in a lineage of Māori resistance and protests against land alienation. In telling the story of the Point, it reveals the ways in which Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei used various strategies, including protests, court cases and tribunal claims, to reclaim their mana whenua and ability to practice their rangatiratanga as kaitiaki of the area.
When visitors take the time to examine the photographs of the various phases of occupation, protest and eviction, they undoubtedly get a sense of tension which had hit boiling point. Though many of the photographs are black and white, the colour and the energy of the occupations are most definitely communicated. However, this is only effective when viewed in very close proximity. Though the scale of the photographs is a less hierarchical way to exhibit photographs, one is not more important than another; having some of the photographs larger and easier to see from further away might have drawn in more visitors to the space. While there is something to be said for creating an experience where visitors are directed into up close encounters with whatever is on display, this is less effective when there is little to draw people into a space which is, quite literally, out of the way.
The arrangement of the photographs on the walls in chronological order makes sense; it is logical and it tells the story of the Bastion Point occupations well. However, it isn’t a particularly dynamic exhibition, which seems out of sync with its content. Though the exhibition is connected to the Māori Court, it lies outside of the flow that directs visitors around the He Taonga Māori exhibition. Unfortunately, there is little that calls out to passers-by as the physical space itself feels quite empty. The installation of the photos might be conventional in an art gallery, but having all the content pushed against the edges of the space feels somewhat anticlimactic next to the busyness of the jam-packed Maori Court. I found myself wishing that there had been another element to the exhibition which could have activated the space more. Seeing as it is a photographic exhibition, I would have loved to have seen a display case of physical photographs in the middle of the exhibition, something tangible that would have peaked the curiosity of my fellow museum goers.
Nestled amongst the photos are quotes from those who were involved in the occupation. Their red backgrounds are symbolic of mana and rangatiratanga, asserting their importance visually. While the eviction itself looms large in the story of Bastion Point, the quotes featured emphasise that while this was an important day, it was only one of 507 days. Those who are quoted talk about their experience of the community which developed over the duration the occupation. Hinemoa Tumahai says ‘I found my identity on Bastion Point. I learnt my whakapapa up there’ while Puawai Rameka tells the visitor, ‘We got to know people we would never have met if it was not for the occupation of Bastion Point. Without them I don’t know what we would have done.” The use of direct quotes from the protestors allow them to have a voice in the exhibition and tell their story in their own words. By sharing the telling of this story, the exhibition emulates the community that was forged during the occupation and it highlights it as the collective effort. Placed next to the photos, these voices help to create a fuller picture of what this direct action really meant to the protestors and encourages visitors to examine the accompanying photos from their point of view.
Photo Credit: Erin Lee
This is undoubtedly a conscious strategy put in place to tell the story of Ngāti Whātua by Ngāti Whātua. The press release for the exhibition states that it was co-curated by Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei alongside the Auckland Museum. In the history of museums, so often indigenous communities have been written about and defined by outsiders looking in. As such, this sharing of curatorial authority is not insignificant. It shows that the Auckland Museum is making meaningful steps towards involving tangata whenua in the exhibitions of their museum held taonga and the exhibition of their korero tuku iho. Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that tangata whenua are making strides in their long held demands for inclusion, influence and power in decision making capacities within the museum.
I had visited the museum and saw the exhibition two or so months ago, but visiting for a second time with the attacks in Christchurch at the forefront of my mind, I had a different experience of the exhibition. In writing this review during the aftermath of the white supremacist terrorist attacks in Christchurch this past week I, like so many others, cannot ignore the ways in which this event has spread and touched every facet of how we understand ourselves as a community and a nation. While looking at the tumultuous scenes captured in these photographs and knowing that these events would have been televised and written about in newspapers, I found myself thinking about events which capture the attention of the nation. Bastion Point, the Springbok Tour of 1981, the Rainbow Warrior, the Christchurch earthquakes and now the Mosque attacks; they affect the whole country and shine a light on the tensions in New Zealand society.
On March 22nd a vigil was held, exactly one week after the attacks. The vigil began with a kāranga performed by wahine toa from Ngāti Whātua, including Sharon Hawke, the daughter of Joe Hawke, leader of the Bastion Point protest. Sharon spoke on behalf of the tangata whenua and expressed solidarity with the Muslim community. She cited Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei’s own experience of Auckland Council burning down their marae in 1952 as well as other acts of violence towards Maori like the invasion of Parihaka. She talked about how much she had learnt about the Muslim community in the week that followed the attacks. She told the crowd that when the women performing the karanga were asked to wear headscarves as a sign of respect to the Muslim community, they looked to strong Māori women like Dame Whina Cooper who also wore a headscarf. Her moving speech was about finding similarities between communities and coming together against racism in New Zealand.
Unfortunately, Sharon’s speech did not connect to some in the same way it did for me. I noticed people leaving at particular points in the night but as the vigil was two hours long, I assumed that this was because people just had to go home. I didn’t realise that people were leaving because they were uncomfortable with the political messages expressed by Māori, Muslims, refugees and other immigrant speakers. Only days later on a New Zealand Reddit page, a thread was booming with comments from people who felt that the speakers were inappropriately using what should have been a solemn event, to criticise white supremacy, racism, the government, the police and pākehā in general.[1] The speeches of both Sharon Hawke and Sina Brown-Davis, from Ngāti Whātua o Kaipara, in particular were singled out as inappropriate, uncomfortable and for some, offensive.
Normally when I come across this kind of backlash on the internet my reaction is to get angry and upset and then stop reading whatever it is I’m reading. I’ve always thought of this instinct as some kind of self-preservation. As a the daughter of a Chinese Malaysian immigrant, these discussions are not uncommon or unique but they are personally upsetting and painful. However, as I stumbled on this thread while I was doing research for this review, I read on past the point where I would normally. Though there were definitely troubling expressions of racism, the main message that came through was that people felt that the speakers were politicising a tragedy that shouldn’t have been politicised. While many of the commenters had left the vigil, some stayed, even though they were uncomfortable and disagreed with some of the speakers, because they thought it was important to listen and learn about the experiences of a community they had little contact with.
Though it may appear that I have strayed from reviewing the Not One More Acre! exhibition, processing the Christchurch attacks and the subsequent conversations we are having as a nation and as a city, is important in contextualising my experience of my second visit to the exhibition. This act of terrorism has forced many New Zealanders to re-examine our identity as a collective and as individuals. As individuals, what it has challenged and what it has reinforced differs greatly within our communities. One aspiration that seems to be universal is unity, which has been demonstrated so beautifully by those reaching out to the Muslim community. However, the problem still remains as to how we can foster unity while the fault lines of division are simultaneously coming to the fore. While entirely different in nature, the 1977 Bastion Point occupation also clearly brought into view a community, a city and a nation, which had seemingly insurmountable differences that lead to confrontation and conflict. Forty one years after the first occupation of Bastion Point, and twenty eight years after Bastion Point was returned to Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei, Sharon Hawke mentioning of the history of the Point is still divisive for Aucklanders.
The biggest thing I took away from Sharon Hawke’s speech was her assertion that what was needed during this time of tragedy and mourning, was learning about each other and understanding our differences. My instinct to not read things I find upsetting, and the instinct of those who left the vigil do not help us learn about each other or understand our differences. Already the attacks and the rhetoric which surround them have polarized New Zealand. In order for us to understand people who have different views, values, and world views, we have to talk to each other. We have to reach out. We have to be generous, like Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei, in sharing our stories and listening to others even if we assume our stories have nothing in common. Not One More Acre! is an example of a group reaching out to the wider community, telling their story and their history so that others may understand and appreciate what has informed who they are today. On a recent stroll down Tamaki Drive, I came across an information sign about Bastion Point. Though I have lived in Auckland most of my life, and have walked past that sign many times (especially when I was seven and was obsessed with my roller skates), this was the first time I stopped to read it. I was extremely disappointed to see that the only marker of Bastion Point focused on its defensive military history. There is only one sentence which acknowledges that it had previously been a site of importance for Māori. There is no mention that the defensive function of Bastion Point also functioned to alienate more of Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei’s already eroded papakainga. There is no mention of the occupations and the protests of Bastion Point, and there is no mention of the settlement which has returned Takaparawha to its rightful mana whenua.
Photo Credit: Google Maps
The sign is small, but it’s the only information given the hordes of people who traipse up and down Tamaki Drive, and it all but entirely erases Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei’s connection and history on the land. Of course there are many other ways for people to discover the story of Bastion Point, but the point I am making is that the Auckland Museum and Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei made this exhibition to pay testament to those who fought for their rights as well as sharing their story with the Auckland community. Yet, in the heart of the community in Orakei, that story is still sidelined.
It is encouraging to see the Auckland Museum humbling itself enough to give the Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei this platform. Though the exhibition is small, it can be seen as an indication of the direction the Museum is moving towards in their gallery renewal project. Part of these revitalised galleries will be a permanent exhibition dedicated to telling the stories of Tamaki Makaurau. I hope that the participation of tangata whenua in shaping this exhibition will build on what they have achieved in Not One More Acre! and perhaps create greater understandings which filter out into our communities and lead to change. I’ll keep an eye on the sign on Tamaki Drive, and see what happens.
[1]https://www.reddit.com/r/newzealand/comments/b4gl74/auckland_vigil_kinda_racist/
Statement from the Author:
This was both an easy and an extremely difficult assignment for me to write. It was easy because I had so many thoughts and feelings about this exhibition. However, just because of the timing on this assignment, I was processing the Christchurch mosque attacks as I was writing my assignment. It was incredibly difficult to put into words how I was feeling in the aftermath of the attacks, and how it affected my review of this exhibition, but it was also important to me to be really candid and to not ignore what’s happening outside of our ivory tower.