 
 
 
 
 
ABSTRACT 
 
 
 
 
Title of Document: A CONFLUENCE OF STREAMS: MUSIC 
AND IDENTITY IN AOTEAROA/NEW 
ZEALAND   
  
 Harold Atwood Anderson, Jr. 
Doctor of Philosophy 
2008 
Directed By: Jonathan Dueck, Ph.D., Visiting Assistant 
Professor, Department of Music, University of 
Maryland College Park 
 
 
This dissertation explores identity and musical performance in New Zealand. I investigate 
how music and performance play a part in the formation of persistent identities ? how 
momentary activities metamorphose into more fixed ?traditional? practices, and how 
music impacts collective definition of group identity. I define ?persistent identities? as 
those that continue despite changes in place, time and life stage. In musical performances, 
repertoires and canons, we witness the formation of ?new? identities: mutations, exten-
sions, or adaptations of traditional identities in response to changing circumstances. I 
theorize connections between traditional and contemporary practices as expressions of 
functional or processual persistence.  
New Zealand?s bicultural framework (formed between indigenous M ori and descendants 
of their European counterparts) forms an appropriate site for formation of new identities. 
 
The country comprises a manageable geographic area for application of a hybrid ethno-
graphic/social-historical method, and its political structure affords a high level of visi-
bility, empowerment, and ?ownership,? particularly for Pacific immigrants by allowing 
them to retain a sense of ?indigeneity.? The situation is not as sanguine for other groups, 
including refugees and Asian migrants who also aspire to a common nationhood while 
retaining traditional identities. The extent to which groups succeed or fail is visible in 
their use of music to achieve a place in public discourse. 
M ori contemporary music and performance practices including Powhiri (ritual encoun-
ter), Haka (a dance form widely practiced by both M ori and non-M ori), and Taonga 
P oro (traditional instruments and practice, thought extinct but now the subject of a 
culturally contested recovery) stand out as sites where diverse groups participate and 
negotiate identities. I parse performances ethnographically by analyzing choice and usage 
of materials (idioms, genres, repertoires, etc.), and audience makeup, reception and 
interaction. 
 
 
 
A CONFLUENCE OF STREAMS: 
MUSIC AND IDENTITY IN  
AOTEAROA/NEW ZEALAND    
 
 
 
By 
 
 
Harold Atwood Anderson, Jr. 
 
 
 
 
 
Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the  
University of Maryland, College Park, in partial fulfillment 
of the requirements for the degree of 
Doctor of Philosophy  
2008 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Advisory Committee: 
Visiting Assistant Professor Dr. Jonathan Dueck, Chair 
Dr. Daniel Sheehy 
Dr. Faedra Carpenter 
Dr. Barry Lee Pearson 
Dr. Erve Chambers 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
? Copyright by 
Harold Atwood Anderson, Jr. 
2008 
 
 
 
 
This dissertation is dedicated to       
my mother, Priscilla Guy Anderson, and my father, Harold A. Anderson, Sr.,                                   
and to all those who have gone before and upon whose shoulders I stand. 
iii 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS/MIHI 
I would like to acknowledge the help and support of all of those people who have 
contributed to this work. In particular, I wish to thank all the people who shared their 
stories with me. Raiha Johns and Kim Meredith-Melhuish helped with transcribing inter-
views. Ruia Aperahama, Rangiiria Hedley, Bernard Makoare, and Raiha Johns helped 
with M ori translations. I am thankful for hours spent discussing aspects of New Zealand 
culture with Ruia Aperahama, Rangiiria Hedley, Bernard Makoare, and Jennifer Hand. I 
also wish to thank Jennifer Hand for a steady stream of articles, videotape, and other 
media that have helped me keep current with contemporary affairs in New Zealand. 
I especially want to thank Sandy Rodgers for reading, commenting, formatting, and copy 
editing this manuscript, and also for tolerating an obsessed academic in the house. 
Finally, I wish to thank all of the members of my committee and particularly my 
supervisor, Jonathan Dueck, whose erudition and insight have greatly informed this work. 
 
iv 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
List of Figures ............................................................................................................vii 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues........................................................................................1  
 Background ............................................................................................................1  
  Te Kakano (The Seed)....................................................................................3  
 Methodology...........................................................................................................5  
 Theoretical Framework...........................................................................................6  
 Analytic Processes ................................................................................................16  
 Data Collection.....................................................................................................38  
 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes .......................................................................... 43 
 Demographics.......................................................................................................49 
 Historical and Social Context................................................................................49  
  Early History ? First Encounters.................................................................50  
  Treaty of Waitangi ? Nation Building.........................................................52  
  Evolving Social and Political Context...........................................................54  
  Surviving Colonialism..................................................................................56  
  Emergent Identities and the Arts.................................................................. 60 
  Biculturalism............................................................................................... 61 
  Emergence of M ori Institutions...................................................................63  
  New Zealand Identity Discourse and the Academy...................................... 65 
 Two Sides of ?Us? ................................................................................................84  
  Taha M ori ? Traditional Performances and Evolving Institutions..............86 
  Ng  Taonga P oro........................................................................................91  
  Taha Pakeha ? Traditional Institutions and Evolving Performances............92  
  Lilburn and Hill..........................................................................................102 
  Alfred Hill..................................................................................................103 
  Douglas Lilburn .........................................................................................106 
  Gillian Whitehead ......................................................................................110 
 Chapter Summary ...............................................................................................112  
 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori ...................................................114  
 Introduction to Chapters Three, Four and Five ....................................................114  
 Ratana Encounter................................................................................................117  
 Ratana Background.............................................................................................119  
  T.W. Ratana ? an Alternative Movement..................................................119  
  Ratana Political Influence...........................................................................124  
  Ratana Influence on Contemporary Music..................................................124  
 Ratana Field Narratives.......................................................................................126  
  Introduction ? a Note on Style..................................................................126  
  First Impressions ........................................................................................126  
  First Trip to Ratana ? February 2005........................................................128  
  Ruia Aperahama.........................................................................................132  
  M ori Bands and Ratana ............................................................................143  
v 
  Return to Ratana Pa....................................................................................154 
  Birthday Celebration, January 24, 2006......................................................155  
 Chapter Summary .............................................................................................. 176 
 
Chapter 4: Taongo P oro Encounters......................................................................179  
 Taonga P oro Narratives.....................................................................................181  
  Hirini Melbourne........................................................................................181  
  Richard Nunns ? a Pakeha View of Taonga P oro................................... 185 
  Rangiiria Hedley ? A M ori Traditional View..........................................194  
  Horomona Horo .........................................................................................205  
 Performing Taonga P oro.................................................................................. 211 
  Parihaka .................................................................................................... 211 
  Taonga P oro Demonstration .....................................................................225  
 Taonga P oro as ?New Zealand Music?............................................................. 235 
  Jazz: Richard Nunns and the Mason-Battley Group....................................235  
  Classical: Gillian Whitehead with Richard Nunns ......................................242  
 Chapter Summary ...............................................................................................251 
  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of  
 Biculturalism?...................................................................................................253  
 Constructing Tradition: Keneti Muaiava .............................................................256  
 ASB Polyfest Secondary School Competition .....................................................272 
  Diversity Stage...........................................................................................275 
  Other Stages...............................................................................................276  
 Whitireia Performing Arts: Mana Pasifika...........................................................279  
  Whitireia ?Programme Leaders?.................................................................280  
  Four Alumni: Choreographing the Pacific ..................................................290 
 Burundi to Aotearoa: Sylvester Gahungu ............................................................307 
  Performing Burundi in New Zealand..........................................................314 
  Africa New Zealand Powhiri, February 4, 2006..........................................315 
  Auckland International Festival..................................................................316  
 Chapter Summary ...............................................................................................317 
 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transforms..........................................................322 
 Processes: Collective Definition and Emerging Identities....................................323 
  Collective Definition of Taonga P oro .......................................................326 
 Mapping Aotearoa/New Zealand.........................................................................334 
  The Affective Domain................................................................................335 
  Social ?Space? ...........................................................................................337 
  Fiske/Bourdieu Model................................................................................341 
  Institutional Ilk: Types, Kinds, ?-Scapes? and ?Subordinate? Insitutions ....344 
  Views from Below ? Transformations of the Fiske/Bourdieu Model.........345 
  Persisting M ori Institutions.......................................................................347 
  Mana Whenua, Mana Motuhake.................................................................348 
  Whakapapa ................................................................................................349 
  Ratana Pa ...................................................................................................350 
vi 
  Taonga P oro.............................................................................................352 
  Pasifika/New Zealand and the Institutional Interface ..................................356 
 P tea ...................................................................................................................360 
  Tangencies and Shared Repertoires ............................................................360 
  Institutional Inertia, Efficacy, and Persistence ............................................364 
  Tradition, Authenticity, and Affect.............................................................367 
  The Constitutive Power of Discourse..........................................................371 
 A   
     ............................................................................................................375 
  Ethnographic Allegory ...............................................................................375 
  (He said ? she said)
nth
..................................................................................376 
  Narrative Indigeneity..................................................................................376 
  Privileged Voices .......................................................................................377 
  Limitations................................................................................................ 377 
 
M ori Glossary ..........................................................................................................379 
 
References ..................................................................................................................384 
 
vii 
FIGURES 
 
All photographs are by Harold Atwood Anderson, Jr.; all musical transcriptions are by 
Harold Atwood Anderson, Jr., except Figure 15, Chapter 4.  
Chapter 2 
Figure 1. Map of New Zealand?s North and South Islands. Map is from 
http://english.freemap.jp/ oceania_e/ newzealand.html.  
 Educational use of the image is permitted. ...........................................................44 
Chapter 3 
Figure 1. The Ratana Birthday Celebration engages generations of urban                                       
and rural M ori in performances of identity and expressions of joy. ..................118 
Figure 2. The Tempera (Temple), the central feature at Ratana Pa. ..............................129 
Figure 3. Te Manuao Ratana administrative offices. Note the nine waka                                 
(canoes) on top of the awning listing their names. Two are European,                                        
the Heemskerk and the Endeavour, and seven are M ori.....................................130 
Figure 4. Transcription of the rhythmic formula for a karakia. .....................................138 
Figure 5. Whaikorero utilizes a repertoire of stylized movements and gestures. ...........139 
Figure 6. Transcription of ?He Kuaka,? still sung today, which demonstrates the  
 influence of European songs sung on whaling ships in the 19th century. .............141 
Figure 7. Transcription of ?E noho e Rata,? a song about M ori independence sung  
 to the tune of ?Little Brown Jug.? .......................................................................152 
Figure 8. Ratana bands escort Governor General Dame Sylvia Cartwright onto                           
the paepae. .........................................................................................................161 
Figure 9. Kaikaranga/Kaiwhero escorting Prime Minister Helen Clark onto paepae.....162 
Figure 10. Ruia Aperahama delivers mihi to Governor General?s party (r pu). ............163 
Figure 11. Ratana tangata whenua sing waiata in support of Aperahama......................163 
Figure 12. Transcription of the 3rd chorus of ?Tupono mai Nga Iwi nei.?....................168 
Figure 13. Whanganui Anglican cleric, Turama Hawira, delivers whaikorero                                
(note Governor General seated in background)...................................................169 
viii 
Figure 14. Transcription of ?Te A U? (The Landing) excerpt.......................................170 
Figure 15. Transcription of ?Huri Nga Tai? (phrase)....................................................171 
Figure 16. Transcription of ?Pao? excerpt....................................................................172 
Figure 17. Manuhiri sing supporting waiata. ................................................................173 
Figure 18. Transcription of ?Ma Wai Ra.? ...................................................................174 
Chapter 4 
Figure 1. Rangiiria Hedley plays p t rino....................................................................199 
Figure 2. Flags at the Parihaka International Peace Festival. ........................................216 
Figure 3. Taonga P oro on the main stage. Webster (far right) holds a p kaea.............218 
Figure 4. Warren Warbrick prepares for a taonga p oro and dance                                 
performance on the paepae at the Parkihaka Village compound. ........................219 
Figure 5. Transcription of ?Te Tohora.?.......................................................................222 
Figure 6. Warren Warbrick demonstrates a p kaea on a porch of the                                  
wharekai at Parihaka Village. .............................................................................225 
Figure 7. Warren Warbrick, James Webster, and Horomona Horo                                            
(from left) play nguru as an ensemble during taonga p oro demonstration..........226 
Figure 8. Gourds (hue) on display during the taonga p oro demonstration. ..................226 
Figure 9. Transcription of ?Parihaka P oro Maioha? (excerpt 1)..................................229 
Figure 10. Transcription of ?Parihaka P oro Maioha? (excerpt 2)................................229 
Figure 11. Instruments on display at the Mason-Battley Group performance                                
with Richard Nunns............................................................................................236 
Figure 12. Richard Nunns (left) in performance with the Mason-Battley Group...........236 
Figure 13. Richard Nunns performing with the Mason-Battley Group..........................237 
Figure 14. Chris Mason-Battley performing with the Mason-Battley Group and                                
Richard Nunns....................................................................................................237 
Figure 15. Score fragment of  ?Naumai e te ao marama,? measures 1-12.  
 Tuhituhi: Tangia Baker; Rangi: Gillian Whitehead. Used with permission  
 of the composer. .................................................................................................242  
ix 
Figure 16. ?Naumai e te ao marama,? improvised k auau introduction transcribed ?             
appears at score measure 1..................................................................................244 
Chapter 5 
Figure 1. A group of students practicing a Samoan fan dance in a class                                     
taught by Muaiava at the University of Auckland in 2006...................................257 
Figure 2. The crowd at the 2006 Diversity Stage was large, enthusiastic and                         
decidedly multi-cultural. Note the similarity of hairstyles between                               
students of different ethnicities. .........................................................................276 
Figure 3. Marist College girls competing on the 2006 Samoan Stage. .........................277 
Figure 4. On the Tongan Stage in 2005, older musicians, judges, and                                         
dance leaders with students during the competition reflect the high                                      
level of community involvement and sanction for the events. ............................277 
Figure 5. On the Cook Island Stage in 2005, one group of boys added                               
European neckties to their costumes as a comment on their situated                                    
New Zealand identities.......................................................................................278 
Figure 6. Whitireia Performing Arts professional company appearing                                          
at the 2005 Porirua Festival of the Elements Waitangi Day celebration. .............280 
Figure 7. A complex houses the Porirua Library, Whitireia Performing Arts,                                   
Pataka Museum, and a caf?. Directly adjacent there is a sports/recreation                               
complex and a public park. ................................................................................280 
Figure 8. Tuaine Robati teaches a class in Cook Island dance. ....................................287 
Figure 9. Dancers occupied the central corridor of the Pataka complex during                               
their rehearsal. ...................................................................................................291 
Figure 10. Ioani Leota and Annabelle Reader on a break between rehearsing...............292 
Figure 11. Ioani Leota (seated next to the drummer) directs male dancers as                                 
they stalk across the courtyard during rehearsal. .................................................293 
Figure 12. Ioani Leota rehearses male and female dancers together..............................294 
Figure 13. D Letoa with dancer in full dress costume depicting being                                      
?born of earth.? .................................................................................................302 
Figure 14. Sylvester Gahungu speaks on behalf of the African ?manuhiri? at                                
a ?welcome ceremony? conducted by Unitec Polytechnic staff for the 2006                      
Africa-New Zealand Conference. Note Burundian drummers preparing to                        
support the speech. ............................................................................................307 
x 
Figure 15. Hari Paniora speaks on behalf of the tangata whenua at an abbreviated                 
powhiri to welcome the attendees ofo the 2006 Africa/New Zealand                      
Conference. .......................................................................................................314 
Figure 16. Burundian drummers perform at the 2006 International Festival                             
hosted by the RMS Refugee Resettlement organization at Potter?s                                    
Park in Auckland. ..............................................................................................316 
 
1 
 
Chapter 1 
Conceptual Issues 
 
Background 
This dissertation is an ethnography of how people in contemporary New Zealand are 
using music to define and identify themselves in the context of that country?s bicultural 
framework, mandated by current law and in recognition of the Treaty of Waitangi. 
I undertake this task in the light of my own personal journey. I immigrated to New 
Zealand in 1984 as a self-identified African American musician looking to retain my own 
sense of self even as I sought to find a niche in a new country. I was often asked what 
kind of music I ?did.? But the answers ? jazz, blues, classical, African American ? had 
a local context and meaning to people that didn?t necessarily match my own. I came to 
realize that my musical identity ? as essential, traditional, and fixed as I once thought it 
was ? would have to be translated and transformed locally, that it would need to become 
fluid and the product would ultimately be based upon a process of negotiation.  
I realized that my sense of musical identity was based on a set of cultural markers which 
depended on a particular cultural and historical landscape, and that in order to find and 
establish an identity consistent with my past in a new place, I had to find or construct 
common landmarks and new points of reference. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 2 
 
My personal, local experience was atypical. In the town of Dunedin, in the lower half of 
the South Island where I landed with my wife (who had accepted a university job) and 
lived for nine years, I was a minority of one. I was a glaring cultural anomaly in southern 
New Zealand, where the visible culture was overwhelmingly white, European, and above 
all British. This experience sensitized me to the situation of members of minority groups 
in New Zealand as they attempt to discover and assert their cultural identity. 
The local perception of American culture, and particularly African American culture, was 
narrowly conceived and almost entirely based on media ? television, radio, film, or 
recordings. This left me at a disadvantage when it came to asserting my own claims to 
authenticity, or even my authority to innovate in performance, especially when my 
performances or interpretations were at variance with pre-fixed notions and dominant 
interpretations. These preformed cultural interpretations gained weight by being 
entextualized and enshrined in public institutions ? school curricula, festivals, and 
literature. 
My experience differed from most immigrants who have or bring with them a local 
constituency of other people with similar backgrounds. As unusual as my situational 
experience was ? being the sole proponent of a culture that was at the same time exotic 
and (superficially) familiar ? the journey I had to undertake in order to assert myself 
culturally and musically was not dissimilar to that of many people(s).  
My analysis of New Zealand musical identities proceeds largely from my discovery of 
apposite musical cultures and my sense that my own journey of musical self-discovery 
was not dissimilar to (or disconnected from) the experience of others. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 3 
 
Te Kakano (The Seed) 
This is an ethnographic inquiry into the role that music plays in identity formation, 
construction, maintenance, and persistence in contemporary Aotearoa/New Zealand.  
My focus is on how modern peoples produce new identity performances (and by 
extension new performance traditions) that incorporate or can be seen as apposite 
extensions of or innovations on traditional ones. 
I see these ?new identity performances? as manifestations of multi-sited ethnographic 
endeavor by all of the participants, and they are based in part upon elements derived from 
the (entextualized and institutionalized) products of the salvage ethnography of earlier 
generations. Because of these intertwined histories and reflexivities, I see myself and my 
predecessors as active participants in the process of the formation of contemporary 
identities. This dissertation is intended to be read by the people under study as a 
conscious part of that process. 
In Aotearoa/New Zealand, the process of contemporary identity formation takes place 
against a backdrop of institutional biculturalism ? a contemporary movement that has its 
roots in the nation?s earliest beginnings and that sets a condition where no single cultural 
identity is imagined as superior or dominant. Rather, national identity is seen as being 
derived in some way from a bicultural ?partnership? between ?the Crown? and ?M ori.?
1
 
While the precise meaning of this ?partnership? is highly contested, the notion that New 
Zealand national identity is somehow based upon biculturalism has become institu-
                                                
1
 As a matter of style, in New Zealand usage, ?the M ori people? are indicated simply by the term ?M ori? 
without the definite article. Similarly, the plural form of ?M ori? does not require an ?s.? 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 4 
 
tionalized in government departments, education, and the courts and has become an 
important theme throughout New Zealand culture. The trope of biculturalism ? what it 
means and how it is expressed and performed ? impacts people across ethnic, gen-
erational, and gender lines. 
The juxtaposition of M ori and the Crown as the basis for governance necessarily lends 
itself to symbolic interpretation. My research, framed within New Zealand?s bicultural 
context, proceeds by examining examples of cultural performances by groups subsumed 
under the symbolic partners ? M ori and the Crown. Ultimately the identities of 
members of these groups, and their attendant performances, will be more complex than is 
immediately obvious from this formulation.  
?M ori? can be taken variously to represent specific M ori ethnic lineages or general 
indigenous interests and values. Among the values that are enshrined in the Treaty of 
Waitangi, the ur-text of biculturalism, is the concept of taonga or ?treasures? (in M ori 
and several other Pacific/Polynesian languages).  One result is that, because waiata ? 
which translates both as ?song? and cultural performance in general and has a central role 
as a carrier of M ori heritage ? is highly placed among taonga, music and song can be 
seen as having a mandated place in New Zealand culture. 
Similarly, while ?the Crown? is explicitly understood to refer to British/European 
heritage and interest, it also indicates governmental responsibility for ?everyone else? ? 
i.e., all non-M ori. And, by extension, government sanction for cultural performance by 
non-M ori ? whether European or indigenous or some other ? is also mandated.  
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 5 
 
The result is a casting of ?modernity? that does not assume a particular kind of Western 
dominance where ?exotic? groups and their performances will be subsumed under a 
single over-arching cultural rubric, but rather a two-part system. The emphasis on the 
Crown?s responsibility for ?everyone else? on the one hand, and ?M ori? concepts of 
taonga and indigenous values ? which clearly include more than M ori ? on the other, 
results in multiple paths and strategies for diverse peoples to establish their identity and 
their niche and to make claims on resources. My interest is in how this plays out for and 
in musical performance. 
Methodology 
Speaking of representations of indigenous and other non-Western peoples and their entry 
into the ?modern? world, Clifford says:  
...whenever marginal peoples [who] come into a historical or ethnographic space that has 
been defined by the Western imagination. ?Entering the modern world,? their distinct 
histories quickly vanish. Swept up in a destiny dominated by the capitalist West and by 
various technologically advanced socialisms, these suddenly ?backward? peoples no 
longer invent local futures. What is different about them remains tied to traditional pasts, 
inherited structures that either resist or yield to the new but cannot produce it [my 
emphasis].
2
  
 
He goes on to demonstrate that this vision of ethnographic endeavor is historically and 
culturally rooted, and that the result is tautological and self-fulfilling. 
The denial of marginalized people?s ability to produce the new emerges from a mindset 
that imagines these colonized and indigenous peoples in the role of a tail wagging the 
(Western) dog ? they are imagined as being both powerless and ineffectual. But, as any 
                                                
2
 Clifford 1988: 5. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 6 
 
competent physicist will tell you, the tail does indeed wag the dog, and vice versa. In the 
arena of cultural production such ?marginalized? people do exert an important and 
effective influence. And this influence is reflexive.  
The question for this dissertation, and for 21st century ethnographers in general, is no 
longer whether such ?marginal peoples? can produce the new, but how they do so, and 
how they may manage to preserve their traditional pasts, inherited structures, and 
intergenerationally constructed worldviews in the process of becoming less marginal, if 
not mainstream. This process also involves the establishment, the institutionalization as it 
were, of these worldviews and traditions in a manner that promotes their persistence into 
future generations. 
Theoretical Framework 
Processes of identity formation manifest themselves in reflexive diachronic and 
synchronic performances. The contemporary identities I explore are created and shaped 
by an interplay of what might be called ?democratic? factors, including spontaneous and 
unregulated input of individuals and groups, with institutional environmental and 
structural factors including ritual enculturation of ?traditional? notions and attitudes held 
within families, tribes, and other close cultural groupings, and ?modern? forces which 
impinge from the outside and which include governmental and legal structures, finance, 
media, and also the reflexive impact of ethnographic research.  
Identities are formed in interactive relationships with fixed institutions ? that is to say 
that identities are formed and maintained in dynamic interaction between individuals and 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 7 
 
groups and the ?institutions? (in the broadest sense)
3
 that represent them like literature 
and other fixed texts, performance venues and festivals, and archives and museums. 
These all comprise sites for the musical construction, negotiation, maintenance, and 
establishment of persistent identities. 
The Intersection between Institutional and Democratic 
Factors as a Discursive Space 
I use the term ?democratic? to refer to processes whereby notions and expressions of 
?culture? and ?heritage? come from ?the people.?
4
 This formulation is necessarily vague 
? culture emerges from the mass (or segments of the mass that may differentiate 
themselves as the result of the process) in a mysterious and murky, potentially 
nonrational fashion. The point is that this ?bottom-up? process is fluid and unregulated. It 
is notable that by this process the amorphous mass shapes itself and may come to wield 
power.  
In contrast, institutional processes are generally ?top-down.?  And institutions tend not to 
be democratic in emphasis. By nature institutions invest more power in some quarters 
than others and, particularly in the case of ?culture? (which sometimes acquires a capital 
?C? in the process), their goal is ultimately to rationalize and codify. 
                                                
3
 I follow Bourdieu in defining the ?broad sense? of an institution as ?a relatively durable set of social 
relations which endow individuals with power, status, and resources of various kinds.? Thompson in 
Bourdieu 1991: 8.   
4
 ?People, sing., chiefly with the. Those without special rank or position in society; the mass of the com-
munity as distinguished from the nobility or the ruling classes; the populace.? Oxford English Dictionary,  
http://dictionary.oed.com, 5/11/2008. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 8 
 
The polar opposition that I have constructed here between democratic and institutional 
processes is only theoretically binary. In practice, power relations do manifest in 
?democratic? processes. Conversely, institutions may utilize ?democratic? processes, 
although these processes are generally structured within a framework set by the 
institution ? they may be constructed on ?democratic ideals.? But power relations in 
?popular? or democratic movements involving expressive performances of ?the people? 
tend to be more chimerical ? fluid and unpredictable, particularly in the short term.
5
 On 
the other hand, institutions by definition tend (or at least aspire) to be more fixed and 
stable. 
The reflexive incursion of democratic factors (particularly with regard to structuring and 
staffing) into institutional spaces on the one hand, and the impact/influence of institutions 
on democratic or popular movements (as witnessed in the expressions of ?the people?) on 
the other, constitute a discursive space which is a defining characteristic for the ?sites? 
examined in this dissertation. The discursive spaces that I model are based on the manner 
in which these mutual influences manifest in a kind of feedback loop ? a dialectical 
balancing act that can result in mutual reinforcement, destruction or neutralization of 
various agencies/identities ? that manifests in performance.  
A ?discursive space? for the creative expression of an indigenous people
6
 would be one 
in which their notions of aesthetics and functionality ? that is, their bases for evaluating 
                                                
5
 Statistical positivism might hold some sway in the medium and long term: like gas molecules diffusing. 
See Schr?dinger 1967. 
6
 See Ginsburg 1994. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 9 
 
the quality, uses, and functions of a performance ? would be in play, not only emically, 
for themselves (as would be expected), but also etically ? for those others who, as a 
consequence, not only witness but who are also conscious (to some degree) participants 
in the performance. The ?creation of the new? by indigenous communities is contingent 
on the existence of such a discursive space. Similarly the preservation/conservation of 
?tradition? is contingent upon the existence (or construction) of ?the institution? as a 
metaphoric space. In order to accommodate democratic culture, institutions must become 
conceptual entities that are able to go beyond predetermined structural and structuring 
definitions ? beyond ?bricks and mortar? ? to nurture, embody, and embrace cultural 
products. 
Identity, Performance and Identification 
I distinguish between ?identity? and the unobservable internal and intransitive state that it 
implies, and the active process of identification (by self and others), which plays out in 
performance. Whereas ?identity? can be reduced to a simple binary as an exercise in 
epistemological differentiation between self and other, the active process of 
identification/differentiation as both an observable and reflexive phenomenon is 
inevitably layered and multi-dimensional as it plays out in performance. Furthermore, I 
am interested in identity performances that reflect persistent group (as opposed to 
individual) identities ? those identities that have some continuity with ?traditional? pasts 
and that (usually by being institutionalized in some manner or form) exist independently 
of any single individual. 
The group identities I refer to might be better expressed as ?group identifications.? That 
is, I am referring primarily to active or explicit declarations by individuals of group 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 10 
 
affiliation by performance ? word, deed or association ? and the reflexive acceptance, 
acknowledgement, and (potentially) authentication of the individual by the group. These 
identifications admit of the possibility of simultaneous multiple, partial, hybridized, and 
new identities variously met in a single individual or group identity. 
Performance 
Erving Goffman defines performance as: 
?All the activity of a given participant on a given occasion which serves to influence in 
any way any of the other participants. Taking a particular participant and his performance 
as a basic point of reference, we may refer to those who contribute to the other 
performances as the audience, observers, or co-participants. The pre-established pattern 
of action which is unfolded during a performance and which may be presented or played 
through on other occasions may be called a ?part? or a ?routine.?
 7
 
 
In a recapitulation of Hamlet?s ?The world is a stage? speech, Schechner extends this 
definition and parses performance as a growing hyper-reflexive hierarchy of (inter-) 
activity involving ?being, doing, showing doing, and explaining showing doing.?
8
 These 
latter two varieties ? of showing and explaining showing doing ? are of particular 
interest because they imply the construction or derivation of analytic structures and 
theoretical frameworks ? including repertoires and canons ? that are institutional in 
character.  
Similarly, Rice has noted that the concept of ?tradition? must be treated in a manner that 
takes into consideration the meaning and use of the concept within the culture under 
study.
 
In a hierarchical construction that closely parallels Schechner?s, Rice defines 
                                                
7
 Quoted in Schechner 2002: 22-23. 
8
 Schechner 2002: 22-23. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 11 
 
tradition as lying on a field of variation ranging from ?nonreflective? ? that is cultures 
that do not have a (conscious) notion of tradition and where a concept is ?beyond 
discourse? and is externally constructed by a researcher?s analysis ? to ?fully self-
conscious? cultures, where ?tradition? is a matter of public discourse and its construction 
is (usually) contested among different factions and individuals.
9
 
I am particularly concerned with the more conscious varieties of performances and how 
these performances contribute to the construction of institutions and persistent group 
identities. 
National Identities 
I frame New Zealand national identity as a multi-layered discourse that is characterized 
by an interaction between two main narrative perspectives, the ethnic/indigenous view 
represented symbolically as ?M ori? in the Treaty of Waitangi on one hand, and the 
?Western? view represented by ?the Crown? on the other. Smith notes that both varieties 
of national identity ? characterized as ethnic and Western ? tend to coexist in real-
world nationalisms: ??every nationalism contains civic and ethnic elements in varying 
degrees and different forms.? But he maintains that, ?even during the most severe 
conflicts mirroring opposed models of the nation certain fundamental assumptions tied 
the warring parties together through a common nationalist discourse.?
10
 The specifics of 
these assumptions ? their type and kind and their creative construction in the present 
through music ? is a central theme of this dissertation. 
                                                
9
 Rice 1994: 13. 
10
 Smith 1991: 13. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 12 
 
Smith,
11
 Anderson,
12
 and others have noted that there are general distinguishing 
characteristics between civic/Western and ethnic narratives. Smith enunciates a set of 
attributes of the Western ?civic? model of the nation. A nation is a well-defined territory 
that is conceived as belonging to a people just as that people belong to it. This territory 
must be a specific place that is seen as being the ?historic? land ? the metaphoric 
?cradle? ? of its people.
 13
 Smith says: 
The homeland becomes a repository of historic memories and associations?. Its rivers, 
coasts, lakes, mountains and cities become ?sacred? ? places of veneration and 
exaltation whose inner meanings can be fathomed only by the initiated, that is, the self-
aware members of the nation.
14
  
 
He goes on to list five basic features of national identity: ?an historic territory or home-
land; common myths and historical memories; a common, mass public culture; common 
legal rights and duties for all members; a common economy with territorial mobility for 
members.?
 15
 He defines a nation as ?a named human population sharing an historic 
identity, common myths and historical memories, a mass, public culture, a common 
economy and common legal rights and duties for all members.?
16
 
                                                
11
 See Smith 1991. 
12
 See Anderson 1983. 
13
 Smith 1991: 9-10. 
14
 Ibid. 
15
 Smith 1991: 14. 
16
 Ibid. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 13 
 
By way of contrast, Smith delineates ?stress on (presumed) descent (as opposed to 
territory)? as a basic characteristic of the ethnic nation.
17
 An important offshoot of this 
emphasis on descent is that, in contrast to the Western model where ?the people? are seen 
as ?a political community subject to common laws and institutions,? in the ethnic model, 
the people are seen as the ?object of national aspirations and the final rhetorical court of 
appeal.?
18
 
Saying that ?the place of law in the Western civic model is taken by vernacular culture? 
in the non-Western ethnic model, Smith notes that ethnographic research, especially that 
undertaken by lexicographers, philologists, and folklorists, has had a central role in the 
early construction of national identities in places like Eastern Europe and Asia:  
Their linguistic and ethnographic research in the past and present culture of the ?folk? 
provided the materials for a blueprint of the ?nation-to-be,? even where specific linguistic 
revivals failed. By creating a widespread awareness of the myths, history and linguistic 
traditions of the community, the succeeded in substantiating and crystallizing the idea of 
an ethnic nation in the minds of most members, even when?the ancient language 
declined.
19
 
 
Imagined Communities and Indigeneity 
In a discussion of the origin of nationalism, Anderson has used the term ?imagined 
communities? to refer people who have established group identities that extend beyond 
                                                
17
 Smith 1991: 12. 
18
 Ibid. 
19
 Ibid. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 14 
 
the bounds of immediate, personal interaction and are instead based upon mediated 
constructions of commonality that may transcend physical distances and boundaries.
20
  
Whereas Anderson is primarily concerned with the role of print media in the construction 
of the nation-state as a kind of cultural-political amalgam, Appadurai develops the notion 
that technological developments and global markets combined with vastly increased 
flows of people have democratized the imaginative process so that it can be utilized 
collectively by ?communities of sentiment? and is no longer restricted to being ?a faculty 
of the gifted individual.?
21
 
The contemporary construction of ?indigenous people? as a global cultural community is 
an example of this latter type of creative imagination and ?indigeneity? has evolved 
beyond its early (historic) construction as an expression of otherness based on (or in 
reaction to) the etic perspective of colonialists and travel writers and later, 
anthropologists. 
In its current global iterations, indigenous identification is based on the creative 
construction of some shared attributes of far-flung communities as opposed to being a 
mere artifact of colonialism. In the process (and perhaps ironically), essentialist readings 
of indigeneity ? with strong emphasis on kinship and genealogy ? have lost some of 
their force, leaving open the question of whether and how people might come to become 
indigenous and what this might mean with regard to place, practice, and function.  
                                                
20
 Anderson 1983, 1991. 
21
 Appadurai 1996: 8. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 15 
 
This is particularly true in New Zealand, where sense of place ? and the relationship that 
one has to that place ? has become a dominant theme in the discourse of national 
identity. For M ori people in New Zealand, indigeneity (?tangata whenua?) is simul-
taneously a locally constructed literal fact and a term that signifies participation in a 
global discourse. Tangata whenua, meaning ?people of the land,? is the commonly 
accepted term for M ori indigenous identity. 
Some non-M ori seek to legitimize their presence in New Zealand by constructing a 
local, indigenous identity. For some, this process of local identification ? of coming to 
be recognized as being a fundamental part of Aotearoa ? is connected with a mastery of 
aspects of m oritanga (?things M ori?), including language and music. 
Global Discourses 
A distinctive feature of modernity is that very little human activity takes place in 
isolation. A global discourse for the purposes of this dissertation would be one in which 
local performances/products are reflexively seen and engaged in on a world stage and 
across a variety of interpretive frameworks. The ?stage? in question is a metaphoric space 
where the quality and manner of engagement of the participants is impacted by a variety 
of processes. These processes are very much in play in the construction of group 
identities and the institutions that come to represent or reflect them. 
Appadurai proposes a theoretical framework for mapping global processes across dis-
parate points of view. He notes that: 
The global relationship between ethnoscapes, technoscapes and financescapes is deeply 
disjunctive and profoundly unpredictable, since each of these landscapes is subject to its 
own constraints and incentives (some political, some informational and some techno-
environmental), at the same time as each acts as a constraint and a parameter for 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 16 
 
movements in the other. It is clear now more than ever that media, technology and 
notions of ethnicity impact upon individual and group constructs of identity.
22
 
 
Appadurai?s use of the suffix ?-scape? for each of interpretive/expressive realms reflects 
the fact that they can represent shifting views of a complex cultural terrain and 
corresponding shifts in perspective for viewing the situatedness of a group or individual. 
These perspectives can be complementary or disjunct. However this framework suggests 
the possibility of translating and transforming between some of these realms if one were 
to have access to an appropriate set of tools. 
Analytic Processes 
This dissertation explores the reflexive relationship between important specific 
groups/actors by mapping their participation in the process of identity formation and in 
their participation in the creative imagining, construction, and reconstruction of new and 
traditional communities as manifested in musical performances in Aotearoa/New Zea-
land. My emphasis is on group identities as opposed to more personal ones and my 
interest in individuals is focused on their ability to enunciate and elaborate upon trends 
and movements of groups.  
I proceed by recording and analyzing ?snapshots? of musical and other performances 
involving some major immigrant streams, who collectively comprise the nation?s popu-
lation, in order to observe and chart processes by which they come together to form 
national, intra-, and trans-national identities and profoundly influence if not determine 
what is sometimes characterized as the ?dominant? national identity. 
                                                
22
 Appadurai 1990: 295. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 17 
 
Ethnomusicology, Methodology, and the Master Narrative  
Ethnographic methodology and style and the seat, as it were, of ethnographic authority 
have evolved apace ? the single most radical change has come from the growing 
awareness among academic ethnomusicologists that, even as they observe and document, 
they are being observed and documented. The explicit inclusion of the ethnographer as a 
presence, in both data collection and the subsequent analysis and interpretation, has come 
to be the accepted norm in qualitative research. An important question is where does the 
root of ethnographic authority lie ? whether it is based in a master narrative, as it were, 
or whether our rhetorical force might more appropriately be derived from some other, 
possibly more democratic source. Pritchard says:  
?Debates which have often been presented as simple matters of truth or knowledge and 
their faithful and accurate representation, fail to consider how such terms assign identity, 
how representation produces knowledge, or, since there is little if anything that can be 
thought that does not in some way bear the imprint of the body, how ?bodies? and bodily 
acts might be thought in relation to the production of the ?the true.?
23
 
 
Ethnomusicologists and ethnographers in general have aspired to an increasingly broader 
view of people and culture. Ethnocentric viewpoints and culturally bound value systems 
have given way to notions of cultural equity.
24
 In the post-structuralist, post-modern era, 
rigid notions of personal and cultural identity have largely been replaced by more fluid 
concepts based largely on theories of social constructionism.  
                                                
23
 Pritchard 2001: 31. 
24
 See Lomax 1977 also Bau Graves 2005. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 18 
 
The change in emphasis from a positivist-objectivist orientation to a relativist-inter-
pretivist orientation, with an emphasis on participant observation as a primary research 
tool, has largely been precipitated by two related shifts. The first is the dawning 
realization by ethnographic researchers that they are not invisible
25
 and that their 
presence in and of itself impacts on the products of their research.
26
  The second is the 
increased mobility and deterritorialization
27
 of groups and the resulting need for multi-
sited approaches
28
 to contemporary ethnography. The two are related because both 
conditions are symptomatic of embedded reflexivity between populations intermingling 
in a moving window that comprises the ethnographic present. The reality of these reflex-
ivities is not necessarily deemed commensurate or rendered equitably in contemporary 
ethnographic narratives, however. 
Master Narrative 
To this juncture in time, the dominant narrative ? the viewpoint from which the story 
has been told ? has largely been Western. Current advances in Western ethnography 
                                                
25
 See Clifford?s discussion of the frontispiece for Malinowski?s Argonauts of the Western Pacific 
consisting of a photograph depicting a group of Melanesian natives apparently involved in a naturalistic 
rite. The ?naturalness? of the scene is called into question by one of the bowing figures who stares into the 
camera, clearly more absorbed by the otherwise unseen and unacknowledged ethnographer than by the rite 
itself. Clifford 1988: 21. 
26
 It is interesting to note that this realization for the social sciences came so long after Heisenberg?s 1927 
formulation of his Uncertainty Principal signaled the end of pure positivism in the physical sciences. 
27
 See Deleuze and Guattari 1972. 
28
 Marcus proposes that multi-sited ethnography is an attempt to understand cultures ?holistically,? that is, 
in a manner that takes into account multiple and complex orientations (geographic, psychological, 
metaphoric, et cetera), influences and allegiances that comprise the milieu of contemporary ?peoples.? He 
says that this attempt to build a more complete knowledge, in the present moment of the ethnographic 
subject, as it were, is ?an issue perhaps more relevant to an ethnography more oriented to elucidating 
contemporary processes emergent or unfolding than to locating present subjects within a past that holds the 
key to contemporary problems.? Marcus 1998: 5. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 19 
 
remain framed within this master narrative that, like a dramatic soliloquy manifested as a 
self-contained ?dialogue,? is by definition limited, and that stifles discourse and 
constructive creative imagining by relegating potential dialogic partners to a subordinate 
role. This subordination is embedded in the terms and usages ? the analytic categories 
? of the discourse itself. 
The promulgation of any particular master narrative is not restricted to one set of voices. 
For instance, a hegemonic hermeneutic
29
 might refer to competing master narratives, and 
post-colonialism might be cast as a set of reactive narratives constructed to resist and 
rewrite colonialism, but still cast in Western terms, nonetheless. Brown notes, ??efforts 
to resist domination can readily re-enforce [sic] it, if such resistance is cast in the code of 
the dominator.?
30
 Or, as playwright Audre Lorde so succinctly put it, ?the master?s tools 
will never dismantle the master?s house.?
31
 
The central theme of this dissertation ? the ?creation of the new? by indigenous people 
and complementary processes by which Westerners and others may be seen as becoming 
indigenous ? rests on production of a more inclusive discursive space. I choose my 
terminology and my method to both acknowledge and promote that goal. 
 
 
                                                
29
 See Slobin 1993. 
30
 Brown 1993: 658. 
31
 Audre Lorde?s comments at ?The Personal and the Political? Panel, (Second Sex Conference, October 
29, 1979). 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 20 
 
Constructing Methodology, Deconstructing Terminology 
As Brown notes, ?naming is a form of social control? and ?categories and their use as 
labels do not only describe prevailing reality. Categories also constitute social reality, 
insofar as societies are discursively enacted. Membership categories are not discovered as 
manifestations of a predefined social reality, but are apprehended in and through the very 
processes by which they are deployed.?
32
 Hence the application of an (hegemonic) 
analysis based upon a master narrative would tend to construct, or, at very least, reinforce 
the dominance of the narrative that it seeks to discover. Similarly, social constructionist 
models, where ?reality? is itself a construction of human beings and hence a product of 
human agency, enable the agency of the investigator (the agency of the self, as it were) to 
be more easily conceptualized and represented in ethnographies, thereby rendering the 
ethnographic product more transparent. A problem with the models (and practices) that 
have emerged is that, while they are useful in locating the self in ethnography, they are 
frequently not as effective in explicitly acknowledging or privileging (as opposed to 
denying) the agency of the ?other? ? the objects/subjects of inquiry ? in our products. 
Another attendant difficulty with these models is that, because they are fluid and 
untethered to any absolute value system, they are not able to directly address moral and 
ethical issues, issues that are fundamental to any notion of cultural equity. It is clear that 
methods based on social constructionist models are not able within themselves to resist 
the hegemonic proclivities of the master narrative. 
                                                
32
 Brown 1993: 658-9. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 21 
 
Quoting Lippard, Slobin observes that ?we have not yet developed a theory of 
multiplicity that is neither assimilative nor separative ? one that is, above, all 
relational.?
33
 The notion of the master narrative ? which is a privileged story (and, as 
seen reflexively from a subordinate vantage, the story of privilege) ? is implicit in both 
assimilative and separative models. ?Assimilation? assumes that there is something a 
priori to be assimilated to and, similarly, ?separation? requires the prior existence of a 
narrative to do the work of separation, particularly so if the ?separated? groups occupy 
overlapping or adjacent territories. The assimilative model ? which requires that groups 
shed or subordinate cultural identities ? is consistent with a relativist position and the 
separative model ? where identities must resist dilution or mixture and purity is placed 
at a premium ? correlates more closely to an essentialist stance. This dissertation 
examines how this antinomy may be resolved in musical performance. 
Lippard and Slobin?s notion of a ?relational? theory that is neither anchored in an 
assimilative or separative approach demands that researchers must take into account the 
consequences of their choice of language, categories, and style of analysis. Furthermore, 
it will require that the objects of our study, the subjects of our research, be dialogically 
engaged and explicitly included in the audience for our products and that their critical 
vantage be acknowledged as being not only valid, but also vital to our mutual purposes. 
                                                
33
 Lippard 1990 quoted in Slobin 1993: 14. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 22 
 
Slobin risks a pejorative reading when he appends the prefixes ?super-? and sub-? to 
?culture.?
34
 While his intent is clearly not to elevate one cultural reading over another, his 
use of these categories to describe ethnic and other cultural groups in relation to the broad 
cultural milieu in which they are (locally and globally) embedded begs the question of 
precisely what that relationship is. This is not to say that power relations (vis ? vis the 
subordination of the interests of one group to those of another) and hegemony don?t exist, 
but it is to say that Slobin?s implicit, albeit unintentional, focus on the ?sub? and the 
?super? tends to divert attention from the task of creative imagining and construction of 
culture in the present. It also fails to acknowledge that the ?power? one person has over 
another ? the power of subordination ? is at least in part perceptual, complicit and 
reflexive.
35
 Slobin?s ?superculture? also implies the existence of a (largely) fixed and 
overweening narrative ? a structural background ? that has the insidious attribute of 
being unconscious, unspoken and, for the most part, unexamined (and unexaminable).  It 
is what ?everybody knows? and, as a consequence, it is what no one need take 
responsibility for. By contrast, the focus for this dissertation is on the voluntary 
dimension of what I call ?owned? culture. 
Owned and Imposed Culture 
There is ?owned? culture and ?imposed? culture ? ?owned? culture flows from below, 
as it were, and is a notion of culture based on free acceptance and active embracing of a 
                                                
34
 See Slobin 1993. 
35
 The complexity of reciprocity and reflexivity in such master-slave relations is evinced in Hegel?s 
Phenomenology of the Spirit and the vast colonial and post-colonial literature it spawned including Fanon, 
Gadamer, et cetera.   
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 23 
 
cultural identity that ?fits.? Cultural artifacts and performances ? whatever their ?true? 
origin ? are products of that activity. ?Imposed? culture is enforced external to the will 
of the individual and refers to constraints ? mores and behaviors that are constructed by 
one person or group for another and enforced primarily by external authority. This is not 
to say that ?owned? culture is not subject to constraints, but while the origins of these 
constraints may be external, the constraints themselves have become internalized. These 
constraints are analogous to Slobin?s casting of ?superculture? as an institutional 
discourse within which various agendas interact in different ways but in response to an 
internalized set of ideologies and agendas.
36
 
A notion of cultural ?property? emerges from the juxtaposition of owned and imposed 
culture. Owned culture can be said to be indigenous to the members of that culture ? it 
belongs to them, they identify with it, and they belong to it in turn. This type of embodied 
reflexivity is lacking in imposed culture. Manifestations of this reflexive sense of 
?belonging? and its embodiment in musical performance are significant elements of 
analysis for this dissertation. 
Culture ownership as a manifestation of agency
37
 has become a major focus of 
indigenous peoples. And performance, disposition and control of cultural artifacts form a 
major site of self-ethnographic activity at the interface between cultures. Similarly, 
                                                
36
 Responding to Appadurai?s hyphenated use of ?-scape,? and speaking of musical experience for people 
in North America and Europe and the difficulties inherent in defining the field, Slobin says, ?People live at 
the intersection of three types of -cultures.? Slobin 1992: 2. These include superculture, subculture and 
interculture where super- refers to a society ? a ?nation-state bounded region? ? with an ?overarching, 
dominating ? if not domineering ? mainstream, which is internalized in the consciousness of governments, 
industry, subcultures, and individuals as ideology.? Slobin 1992: 13. 
37
 In M ori, mana motuhake, usually translated as autonomy or self-determination. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 24 
 
concepts of cultural pride, self-respect, and sovereignty (all manifestations of mana) are 
intimately bound up with issues of ownership and property rights ? intellectual and 
otherwise. 
Slobin?s terms superculture and subculture address the need for a way of speaking of 
cultural groups, their mutual embededness, and the relations between them. However, 
these terms fail to expose these interrelations without presupposing (and hence 
constructing) a hegemonic hierarchy. Schwimmer?s usage of the term ?national minority? 
depicting cultural groups embedded in the nation-state (?au seine de l??tat?
38
) is more 
fitting for my purposes. Schwimmer applies the term to aboriginal or autochthonous 
groups who might claim ?nationhood? on the basis of prior occupancy in a particular 
bordered land mass.
39
 My usage extends and recasts this concept by allowing for the 
imagining, the creative construction of such national minorities in the present, based on 
interaction of diachronic and synchronic factors. 
National Minorities and Optimal Homeostasis 
As a practical matter, negotiated coexistence between cultural and political factions is a 
desirable solution to resolution of differences. Schwimmer proposes a model of what he 
calls ?optimal homeostasis? in which the interests of the nation-state are dynamically 
                                                
38
 This French idiom means literally ?[nurtured] at the breast of the State.? It is particularly appropriate for 
my purposes because it captures the sense that while groups may not (or should not) necessarily be 
subordinate to the State, it is likely they will always have some relationship of being nourished by the State. 
Implicit in this notion is some level of obligation vis ? vis the responsibilities of citizenship. 
39
 See Schwimmer 2003. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 25 
 
balanced, or merged with the embedded interests of national minorities and localities.
40
 
By speaking of them as ?nations? or ?national minorities,? Schwimmer acknowledges 
and emphasizes the agency, the mana of these groups. He locates them globally and 
demonstrates the significance of (inter-) active global performance as a factor in 
achieving their national ends: 
The position occupied by the dominated nation, even within the nation-state, will be 
determined by its prestige in the global scheme. Its historic [traditional] values ? 
mobilized, transformed, decolonized ? will be appear in each effective advance?.
41
 
 
In his exploration of bi-culturalism as practiced in New Zealand, Spain, and Canada, 
Schwimmer proposes using ?anthropotechniques? to develop intermediary structures that 
enable dialogue between factions in contestation for resources, recognition, 
legitimization, et cetera, as a pragmatic solution for reconciling diverse identities in a 
way that enables peoples within a bounded political area (the nation-state) to aspire to a 
common national identity and, at the same time, retain their separate, intermediate 
identities and allegiances as national and local minorities. As we shall see, music 
performance can be seen as just such an intermediary structure and an ethnomusico-
logical methodology as applied in this dissertation can be seen as an ?anthropotechnique? 
contributing to optimal homeostasis. 
Optimal homeostasis involves an ongoing, interactive process that takes place in the 
ethnographic present. Formal negotiations and legislation (and the implicit imposition of 
                                                
40
 Ibid. 
41
 Ibid.: 158. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 26 
 
culture) by themselves are not sufficient to achieve such a dynamic balance if the various 
parties are not on a convergent path. Schwimmer notes, ??it remains difficult to 
establish an ?optimal homeostasis? between populations where there are major (cultural, 
historic, linguistic, ideological) differences.?
42
 A fundamental premise of this dissertation 
is that such cultural convergence (and divergence) is both reflected and constructed in 
musical performance and circumstances. 
Schwimmer, citing Charles Taylor says, ??in order to build a country open to all? one 
must ?allow the existence of diversity to the second degree or profound diversity, within 
which a plurality of modes of belonging would therefore be recognized and accepted.??
43
 
The active construction of cultural convergence requires ?complicity? between the 
parties. For Schwimmer, complicity connotes partnership in a mutually beneficial 
movement of convergence of fundamental values between the dominant culture, 
(represented by the state), and others on the ?periphery.? The structural elements of 
identity formations ? the imposition of categories via laws and geopolitical boundaries 
? matter, but they will not function effectively without the cooperation of people:  
For despite legislative instruments, such a system will not function well if there is not a 
convergence of fundamental values among its members. This convergence isn?t given but 
can be developed gradually if the State succeeds in creating community institutions, 
perceived by the peripheral nations as favorable to coexistence. In the contrary case, 
despite all negotiations, the peripheries will find themselves increasingly uncomfortable 
within their dominant States.
44
 
 
                                                
42
 Ibid.: 159. 
43
 Ibid.: 160. 
44
 Ibid. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 27 
 
What emerges is that optimal homeostasis might be achieved by construction of a 
negotiated coexistence in a condition of cultural convergence. This is tantamount to the 
construction of an inclusive national identity ? one that would allow for a ?plurality of 
modes of belonging? and would be able to accommodate people with different attitudes 
and cultural orientations ? allowing them comfortably wear their various individual and 
group identities, in place and without excessive conflict, fracture, or disjuncture. 
Music and Permeable Boundaries 
The ethnographic research in this dissertation moves between three vantages as defined 
by New Zealand?s ?bicultural? landscape.
45
 ?M ori? and ?the Crown,? can be described 
as historical vantages and one, ?the Others,? can be described as interstitial. Interaction 
and interplay between various groups in musical circumstances is the focus. 
As an avenue for the study of identity formation, music comprises a site where individual 
possibilities are often played out in group circumstances ? where new group identities 
are formed on cultural, personal, and historical boundaries and in the interstices. Because 
ethnomusicology has music making for its focus ? an activity that, even as it reflects the 
multiple origins and histories of is participants, both actively and passively, also (usually) 
takes place at a single, visible site ? it provides a particularly fruitful ethnographic field 
? it embodies multi-sited ethnography.  
As Stokes has it, ?Ethnicities are to be understood in terms of the construction, 
maintenance, and negotiation of boundaries, and not on the putative social ?essences? 
                                                
45
 I use the term ?landscape? as a catchall to embody Appadurai?s various ?-scapes.? 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 28 
 
which fill the gaps within them.?? Quoting Chapman, McDonald, and Tonkin
46
, he goes 
on to say, ?Ethnic boundaries define and maintain social identities, which can only exist 
in ?a context of opposition and relativities.??
47
 Whereas the internal state of a person 
cannot be directly perceived, the performances that comprise the interactions between 
people can be witnessed and documented. Every such interaction between persons or 
groups reveals information about identity. Therefore the process of representing identities 
in ethnography can be thought of as negotiating and mapping these boundaries.  
Identity plays itself out along multiple threads ? age, race, gender, education, economic 
status. Every person has multiple identities that reveal themselves according to their 
circumstances at any given moment. The overall identity of a person is a complex and 
fluid production that is as complex as the variety of circumstances in which individuals 
may find themselves. A community?s identity is a similarly complex and fluid construct 
of persons and groups. Identity can be represented as a multi-dimensional matrix. The 
complexity of this matrix is made even more so by dynamic interdependency between 
facets of community and individual identity; however, a fieldworker can set out to iden-
tify and list significant nodes of interaction on the matrix.  
Erlmann amplifying on Giddens
48
 suggests that music is a means to ?bracket new space-
time relationships? that are the result of a modern ???lifting out? of social relations and 
individual experience from local worlds and their recombination across a variety of time-
                                                
46
 See alsoTonkin 1989: 17. 
47
 Stokes 1997: 7. 
48
 See Giddens 1991. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 29 
 
spaces? and ??music in global culture, by dint of a number of significant shifts in the 
production, circulation, and consumption of musical sounds, functions as an interactive 
social context, a conduit for other forms of interaction, other socially mediated forms of 
appropriation of the world.?
49
 
Similarly, Slobin notes that:  
?Music is woven into the cultural fabric Appadurai presents as one of the most scarlet of 
threads, created by ever-evolving technologies, transmitted by media, marketed through 
high and low finance, and expressive of private and public ideoscapes of autonomy and 
control for shifting populations.... It may well have a?profound connection to culture 
among the much less crystallized groups of greatly deterritorialized nations. Even the 
depersonalized, grand industrial systems take music very seriously. By tuning into music, 
we can hear the play of the -scapes.
50
 
 
People who engage in musical activity usually come to do so on an optional basis and 
participation in musical activities, particularly on an ongoing basis, tends to be voluntary 
? rarely is the pursuit of music an entirely coerced or externally motivated activity. 
Music, particularly ?pop? or folk music, is generally not seen as a necessity of life in 
most cultures, and it is often seen as an innocuous, even inconsequential activity, that 
takes place on the margins. As a result, intercultural participation and exchange may be 
more tolerated in music making, especially in ?casual? circumstances, and it is not 
unusual for musical exchanges to ?fly below the radar? of would-be enforcers of 
?tradition? and cultural boundaries. Even for more formal occasions, music ? 
particularly the combination of sound and appearance abstracted from any sense of the 
performers as culturally located individuals ? may be seen as serving a function, and a 
                                                
49
 Erlmann 1999: 6. 
50
 Slobin 1993: 16. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 30 
 
non-rigorous approach may be taken to supplying music, even for ritual events, by 
employing musicians from the ?outside.?   
In musical performance, differences between people may be muted and/or capitalized 
upon. Constructions of common origins may be negotiated to emphasize similarities and 
overlaps. At the same time, expressions of personal identity may be preserved within a 
flexible performance context. Finally, and of particular significance for the ethnographer, 
performances are frequently public and these performances form a model ? a seed ? for 
evolving group identities, not only for music performance, but also for cultural 
interactions and emergent identities beyond the immediate musical sphere. Music 
performance is in this sense an inductive medium where emergent narratives can be read 
and (both literally and figuratively) broadcast. 
Finnegan notes that, ?musical paths are voluntary.?
51
  As a result, possibilities for 
construction of personal and group identities on a voluntary basis tend to be maximal in 
music making. Music making as a ?democratic? site for identity formation ? particularly 
in circumstances where hegemonic activity is muted or ameliorated ? has salient 
characteristics for my research. And fieldwork for this dissertation focuses on occasions 
where permeable boundaries between cultures are visible in musical performance. These 
boundaries may be present in the personnel of a performance, its style, its content, its 
circumstances or context, or a combination of these elements. 
                                                
51
 Finnegan 1989: 317, quoted in Slobin 1993. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 31 
 
Hegemony, Institutions, and Constraints 
Power relations are an inevitable feature of human existence ? any person?s cultural 
possibilities are constrained or directed by external circumstances, to a greater or lesser 
degree. But, as an analytic tool hegemonic discourse is difficult if not problematic. 
Schwimmer says: 
Every instance of power sharing is founded on complicity, on the sharing of 
understandings that have no need to be uttered, which are effectively unspeakable. For 
power always goes beyond rules meant to constrain it; this going beyond is never spoken, 
much less written, but it is the essence of power. So a State never acts entirely for the 
reasons that it states, but everyone who is a part of the system of negotiated coexistence 
knows the real reasons, the reasons that cannot be spoken.?
52
  
 
Similarly, Slobin notes, ?Euro-American societies allow considerable leeway for choice 
along the lines of voluntarism, but within a grid of limitations that no one can change, 
indeed that no one even thinks about.?
53
 This ?grid? or system of constraints is, as a 
hegemonic discourse, rhetorical in the sense that it operates by suppressing some voices 
while privileging others in order to dominate and control conversation. This is 
accomplished by limiting the terms of discussion ? by controlling what can be said, and 
how. Hegemonic discourse is revealed as being as much about what is unspoken as it is 
about what is actually uttered. 
By treating ?unspeakability? as a static condition, Slobin and Schwimmer present what is 
tantamount to being a rigid structural analysis. They treat a cultural (?supercultural? in 
                                                
52
 Schwimmer 2003: 159. 
53
 Slobin 1993: 40. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 32 
 
Slobin?s terminology) phenomenon as if it were fixed, timeless, and unknowable.  But 
culture is neither fixed nor timeless and an understanding of culture must go beyond a 
hegemonic analysis.  
I am not so much interested in hegemony per se, but rather with music as it reflects what 
might be termed non- or quasi-hegemonic processes that are concomitant with the 
formation of persistent or stable forms of cultural expression. ?Constraints? needn?t be 
conceptualized as being solely hegemonic, and musical performance provides a means to 
focus on dynamic, processual and interactive elements of discourse. These elements are 
inevitably found concurrently with codified or coercive manifestations of hegemonic 
dominance and control by institutions and other agents.  
So, among the narratives of New Zealand European-derived cultures, Pakeha cultural 
?hegemony? can be seen as being not just a story of domination, but also as one of 
defensiveness based on being unsure of oneself, of one?s culture in that place (i.e., a 
European in not-Europe) ? an awkwardness borne of ill ease. We see in musical 
comings together ? through blending and hybridization and the mastery of cultural 
protocols ? an attendant increase in cultural confidence ? the growth of ?belonging? ? 
that has the potential to supplant hegemony with constructive creative imagining. The 
convergence that we are speaking of can also be seen as a process by which the 
?unspeakable? comes to be uttered ? to be made visible ? in performance. 
Symbolic Interaction 
My principal research method is to construct a narrative based on (and reflexively rooted 
in) synchronic and diachronic elements of symbolic interaction as witnessed in musical 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 33 
 
performances by (and among) New Zealand indigenous and other communities. 
Symbolic interactionism provides a useful approach to data collection and analysis for 
this dissertation because it foregrounds the agency of the participants by focusing on (and 
making conscious) the willful act of interpretation. At the same time, the interactionist 
acknowledges the importance of preexisting historical, contextual and cultural 
dimensions of situations,
54
 even as it emphasizes matters of choice with regard to cultural 
identifications.
55
  
The fundamental tenet of an interactionist approach is that interaction between human 
beings takes place in the realm of symbols.
56
 That is to say that actions taken by humans 
are mediated ? as opposed to being the direct result of stimuli ? by ?meanings? ? 
understandings imputed to the elements of a given situation by the participants. Human 
expressions ? actions, reactions and interactions ? are situational performances based 
upon on the act of interpretation, which mediates between stimulus and subsequent 
action.  
While the interior dimension of participants ? their intent ? is not directly discernible, 
the symbols that represent these internal meanings are performed externally and are 
observable. Data analysis for this dissertation proceeds by plausible construction/ 
                                                
54
 ?Society ? a network of interacting individuals ?with its culture ? the related meanings and values by 
means of which individuals interact ? precedes any existing individual.? Rose 1972: 14. 
55
 ?The culture?is often internally inconsistent, and one may move from one culture or subculture to 
another, so that there are conflicting cultural expectations for an individual. This does not mean solely that 
the individual has a choice between the tow conflicting patterns of behavior he is exposed to, or can make a 
synthesis of them, but also that he can ? within the limits permitted by the culture ? define for himself 
somewhat new patterns suggested by the variation among the old ones.? Ibid. 
56
 See Blumer 1962 and also Rose 1972, et cetera. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 34 
 
reconciliation of meanings and intents by parsing performative, contextual and situational 
elements of interactions. Intentions are revealed in active projection/performance of 
symbols, and ?meanings? correspond to their dynamic reception/interpretation and back 
and forth feedback over time (by originator as ?self? and receiver as both self and other).  
Contemporary processes are emphasized in this research, but these processes are seen as 
being inextricably bound to historic ones and generative of future processes and 
definitions. The interaction between these processes provides the synchronic dimension 
of the research.    
Collective Definition 
The process of collective definition is of interest for mapping boundaries between groups 
and particularly for showing the ongoing construction of national and other identities 
based on emergent discourses. Blumer describes an interactive process by which societies 
(?collectives?) come to recognize and define social ?problems.?
57
 By substituting the 
term ?tradition? for ?problem? in Blumer?s formulation, this process may be adapted to 
describe how groups may progressively come to stabilize or ?fix? their traditions and 
identities in process of moving from democratic to institutional representations. Blumer 
identifies five stages of this process: emergence, as a society comes to recognize the 
existence of a ?problem?; legitimization, when the problem acquires ?a necessary degree 
of respectability which entitles it to consideration in the recognized areas of public 
discussion?; mobilization, when the problem ?becomes the object of discussion? between 
various interested parties both inside and outside of the local community where the 
                                                
57
 See Blumer 1971. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 35 
 
problem originally emerged; formation of official/institutional policy; and implemen-
tation, when policy is put into practice with attendant intended and unintended 
consequences.
58
 The stages of the process are interactive within and among themselves 
and they can be viewed both dia- and synchronically. 
The development of emergent discourses is apparent at every stage of the process. In the 
emergent phase, a problem or a potential ?tradition? (music or other) becomes a named or 
otherwise delineated identity that is (interactively) recognized amongst a local population 
as something that ?exists? for the collective. At each subsequent stage, the nascent 
?tradition? acquires a larger audience
59
 and, as a result, its definition becomes subject to 
broadening interactive influences. In the second, legitimization phase it acquires broader, 
symbolic status as something worthy or meaningful ? as an icon, for example. In the 
latter phases of collective definition, the tradition acquires still more new meanings and 
uses (as a potential ?political football,? for example). 
Each of these phases is evident in music performance and the contemporary construction 
of various ?heritages? in New Zealand. 
 
                                                
58
 Ibid.: 301. 
59
 Slobin?s 1993 usage of the term ?visibility? comes to mind. He defines ?a music? as ?an easily 
recognizable style and practice complex of the sort that we label and describe in scholarship, that stores 
organize into bin headings, or that festivals use as criteria for inviting ensembles? and ?visibility? as ?the 
quality of being known to an audience.? Slobin restricts his discussion of visibility to three levels ? local, 
regional and transregional ? and his usage is structural and presumes a defined insider-outsider orien-
tation. The view I propose is more reflexive and nuanced in that it examines the interactions that precede 
(and generate) the structures that Slobin takes for granted. I am more concerned with the ways that 
?insiders? and ?outsiders? reflect (and even change positions with) one another. Slobin 1993: 17 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 36 
 
Negotiating Indigeneity 
The term ?indigenous? is defined as ?born or produced naturally in a land or region; 
native or belonging naturally to (the soil, region).?
60
 We examine the concept of indige-
neity and its construction by collective definition from M ori, Pakeha [sic] and ?other? 
perspectives, particularly as regards the concepts of ?belonging? in, to, and of a place, 
and similarly with regard to heritage and cultural property. 
The use of the term ?indigeneity? as an identifier for group identity, particularly as a 
global movement, is relatively recent. Niezen notes, ?[the term] ?indigenous peo-
ples??was included in the International Labour Organization?s Indigenous and Tribal 
Populations Convention and Recommendation of 1957, at a time when scholars still 
commonly referred to the subjects of their investigations as ?primitives?? and further that, 
?the political reality of ?being indigenous? is a product of the past several decades, 
originating in the terminology of international law and broadening to become a new form 
of group identity.?
61
  
While this moment marks a major point of emergence into modern Western conscious-
ness of ?indigeneity? as a globally interactive movement, M ori in New Zealand adopted 
the concept very early on in their dealings with both the British Crown and the world at 
large. In this dissertation we examine the contemporary ramifications of T.W. Ratana?s 
global initiatives, which began as a series of world tours by Ratana brass bands in 1924 
                                                
60
 Oxford English Dictionary. 
61
 Niezen 2000: 120. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 37 
 
and 1925 and culminating in contemporary performances like the ones we witnessed in 
2006.  
Indigeneity has frequently been conflated with ?race?; however, the global movement 
toward establishing a transnational, and hence transracial, understanding of the term 
effectively decouples these concepts. Fleras applies Blumer?s model to ?race relations?
62
 
using an interactionist perspective and the concept of collective definition to show how 
aboriginal-government relations in Canada ?embody both competing images and 
definitions, as well as shifting tactics and adjustments.?
63
   
I apply this model to the situation in New Zealand where we see a nascent movement for 
self-identified ?Pakeha New Zealanders,? and others of European-descent seek to assert 
their ?indigenous? rights in place. This movement may be seen as a hegemonic discourse 
whose purpose is to deny any ?specialness? to M ori as tangata whenua in some cases. 
However there is a more positive (creatively constructive) dimension whereby some of 
European descent accept and embrace the M ori term ?Pakeha? and by so doing not only 
acknowledge the mana of M ori, but also come to a deeper sense of their own belonging 
in relation to a place ? a place with the historic weight necessary to true nationhood as 
described by Anderson and others. We explore the non- and quasi-hegemonic dimensions 
of identity construction in Aotearoa by looking at European participation in performance 
and reconstruction of Taonga P oro in this dissertation. 
                                                
62
 See Fleris 1990. 
63
 Fleris 1990: 19. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 38 
 
Affective Engagement: ?What Matters? 
Grossberg uses the term ?affect? to refer to ?a certain range of effects which can be 
described in terms of intensities. ?[A] range of effects for which intensity is the primary 
characteristic. These are things like emotions and passions and investments.?
64
 The 
essence of the affective dimension is personal investment formed by ?what matters? to a 
person or group and the intensity of their relationship to the object of their affection (to 
coin a phrase) ? the depth of their engagement, disengagement, or indifference, their 
passion or their antipathy. I see affective investment by groups of people as a kind of 
?fuel? for the construction of ?democratic? institutions and as a marker of the power or 
influence of those institutions and for their ability to persist and weather change. It is also 
an indicator of ?historic weight,? as I have used the term in the previous section. In this 
dissertation, affect as ?investment,? taken together with concepts of social capital, form 
the basis for a processual model of the ?creation of the new,? which I see as a kind of 
effective dividend returned on an (affective) investment of social capital. 
Data Collection 
Fieldwork Sites 
I witnessed processes of identity formation through music at sites including festivals and 
ritual events that celebrate local, national, transnational, and ethnic identities; 
communities that have been conceived and built around notions of political, religious, or 
ethnic identity, and that use music as a means to enlist subscribers or maintain identity; 
and schools, museums and archives that play an institutional role in sanctioning and 
                                                
64
 Grossberg 1995: 412. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 39 
 
fixing some notions of ?traditional,? or ?appropriate? cultural identity, or that have been 
used (sometimes in acts of creative or even subversive imagining) by people seeking to 
rediscover or reconstruct ?traditional? identities that have been lost or compromised due 
to environmental factors like colonialism or migration. 
Narrative Ethnography 
Chase notes, ?The stories people tell constitute the empirical material that interviewers 
need if they are to understand how people create meanings out of events in their lives.?
65
 
This dissertation ? its methodology and its analytic method ? falls in the broad 
category of narrative ethnography. That is to say, it relies heavily on interviewing as a 
data collection method, both as a primary source and also for the review and interpre-
tation of data collected by other means, including participant-observation during perfor-
mances, festival, and events.  
I see the people who worked with me on collection and interpretation of data as 
?collaborators? because the designation ?interviewer-interviewee? does not adequately 
express the relationship between myself and the people who helped me. Chase notes that, 
??those whose studies are based on in-depth interviews aim specifically at transforming 
the interviewer-interviewee relationship into one of narrator and listener.?
66
 My 
?collaborations? not only have to do with giving voice to the people I interviewed, but 
also has involved them in the retrospective construction of this overall narrative that 
                                                
65
 Chase 2005: 660. 
66
 Ibid. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 40 
 
attempts to fairly represent various (and sometimes disparate) points of view, including 
my own.  
Ethnographic Allegory: Voices 
Clifford maintains that there is a metadimension to the form and content of an ethnog-
raphy ? a larger context in which the stories and their manner of telling ? tell yet 
another story of how the ethnographer sees, interprets, and judges his or her world. He 
suggests that ethnography itself may be treated as a ?performance emplotted by powerful 
stories.? He says, ?Embodied in written reports, these stories simultaneously describe real 
cultural events and make additional, moral, ideological, and even cosmological state-
ments.?
67
 My ethnographic analyses of interviews and performances consists of an 
attempt to represent what was said or done in these encounters as what I heard ? a story 
of a story, or a narrative metanarrative, as it were.  
Interview Methods 
Interviews for this dissertation took place under a variety of circumstances. Some were 
done ?in the field? at events, others were done at my home in Auckland, or at the offices 
or homes of those interviewed. Data collection involved in-depth interviews with 
individuals I identified as being key to understanding, interpreting, and gaining access to 
groups and events. In most cases these were individuals who were either generally 
acknowledged as being spokespersons for groups or movements or were important or 
instrumental in the organization or performance of a particular genre. Some short 
                                                
67
 Clifford 1986: 98. 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 41 
 
interviews were also conducted on-site with individual performers during public events 
or rehearsals. 
My method for in-depth interviews was designed to invite the interviewees to narrate 
their own stories. After describing the project (a process already begun ? usually over 
the telephone ? by the time we sat down), I generally began by explaining the overall 
form of the interview: I told them I would begin by asking them their full name, where 
they were born and when, then I would go on to ask them biographical information about 
themselves and their family background, and from there we would go on to discuss the 
musical performances and traditions more immediately at hand. In every case I would 
begin the process and then leave the interviewee to fill in details in the copious silences 
that I sought to provide as I listened. During the interviews, I interjected questions, 
usually seeking amplification or further explanation of parts of the stories that emerged, 
and sometimes to move the interview along if I felt that time constraints might jeopardize 
the possibility of completing an integral narrative (i.e., one that touched on all of the 
elements as laid out). I also interjected conversational elements that reflected shared 
experiences or commonalities to indicate that I understood (or not) what was being said, 
in order to ?prime the pump? to keep the narrative flowing, but also to maintain the sense 
that, although my primary function was to listen, the interview was a joint, interactive 
production. In most cases I did not attempt to control either the specific subject matter of 
the narrative ? the points of emphasis ? or the style of delivery.   
Participant-Observation  
New Zealand is a small country with a total population comparable to a large American 
city. After being a participant in New Zealand arts and education for more than twenty 
Chapter 1: Conceptual Issues 42 
 
years, as a performer, a teacher, an arts advocate, and an organizer of events, I have 
become relatively well known. Over the years I have developed relationships of trust with 
a number of highly respected people across disciplines. As a result, most of the people I 
interacted with in the course of research knew me, knew my work, or had heard of me.  
Audio Visual Data 
Other than interviews, the bulk of the data for this dissertation was collected at public 
performances or rehearsals. In most cases, my presence at events was negotiated in 
advance through key people and organizers (several of whom also were interviewees). I 
generally had extraordinary access to staging areas, et cetera, and as a result I was able in 
many cases to film or photograph from an onstage vantage which enabled me to capture 
both audiences and performers from an intermediate position. 
 
43 
 
Chapter 2 
Situations and Attitudes 
 
The islands of New Zealand (see Figure 1) form the physical situation for two main 
groups ? the indigenous M ori and the descendants of British colonizers. The attitudes 
and dispositions ? fundamental ideoscapes, financescapes, et cetera ? of these domi-
nant groups, and the national institutions that have arisen primarily from their interaction, 
form a functional backdrop for other groups.  
In this chapter I examine situations, attitudes, and dispositions that form an interactive 
landscape ? the mise en sc?ne for my encounters in Chapter Three. Participants in these 
musical encounters interpret their environment and form attitudes that reflect their situa-
tedness in relation to it ? they actively construct and reconstruct a landscape that is 
continually being renewed in the ethnographic present. Ultimately, I see this as an evolv-
ing structural framework in which situations are recursively reflected in evolving symbol-
ogies and interpretive frameworks.
1
 These frameworks ?exist? and are available to people 
in the present as they actively deploy them to filter and understand ? to perceive and 
derive meaning from their environment.  
                                                
1
 Speaking of the modern sense of the term ?hermeneutics,? Gadamer notes that ?everything that is no 
longer immediately situated in a world ? that is all tradition, whether art or the other spiritual creations of 
the past: law, religion, philosophy, and so forth ? is estranged from its original meaning and depends on 
the unlocking and mediating spirit that we, like the Greeks, name after Hermes....? Gadamer 1975: 157. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 44 
 
 
Figure 1. Map of New Zealand?s North and South Islands. 
 
I begin this chapter by examining the demographics of cultural and ethnic groups in New 
Zealand, with a brief recounting of population numbers, histories, and patterns of migra-
tion. Subsequently, I turn to historical and social contexts of ?New Zealanders,? with 
attention to details of historic and contemporary attitudes and the construction of New 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 45 
 
Zealand national identities, and with particular emphasis on interaction between Euro-
peans and M ori before, during, and after colonial times.  
These discussions follow a roughly time-linear historical progression as they parallel 
social and political developments and evolving notions of New Zealand identity from 
early colonial times in the 19
th
 century through to the last half of the 20
th
 century, when 
music and performing arts emerged as a major factor in the process of identity formation. 
During this latter period, biculturalism, formed primarily between M ori and British-
descended segments of the population, emerged as a widely-used trope for national iden-
tity. M ori cultural institutions flourished and identity discourses within New Zealand 
academic circles and the popular media burgeoned even as new urban identities sprang 
up. Simultaneously, other groups began to assert themselves and a new ?multicultural? 
view of New Zealand national identity also began to vie for recognition. This moment 
marks the beginning of the primary period of my ethnographic research, and it also marks 
the transition from a generalist approach to New Zealand social history to one focused 
primarily on music and performance.  
In the section titled ?Two Sides of Us,? I revisit the development of music and per-
forming arts in New Zealand as a bicultural, quasi-hybridized phenomenon. I parse 
historic and ?traditional? performances according to their positioning between M ori and 
European influences, content, and agency. The last part of this section serves as re-intro-
duction of Tauiwi ? the other tribes ? as an interrogative case study that in some sense 
challenges the binary characteristics of the bicultural M ori-Pakeha trope for New 
Zealand national identity. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 46 
 
Demographics 
Based on length of occupancy of the islands that comprise New Zealand, New Zealand 
(as opposed to Cook Island) M ori are the most ancient cultural group, having occupied 
the land for about 900 years. Whereas M ori comprise the most ancient group, Europeans 
are the most populous segment of the population. Significant European migration began 
about 160 years ago. At the 2001 census, people identifying as European ethnicity 
comprised about 78% of the total population.
2
 Significant migration of various Pacific 
island groups did not begin until the 1960s. Other groups include Chinese, Indians, and 
others of Asian origin, and small numbers of Africans and others, of whom some are 
refugees. 
The overwhelming bulk of European migrants to New Zealand came from the United 
Kingdom. It is estimated that as many as 90% of people arriving in New Zealand between 
1840 and 1914 (the most intense period of migration) were born in Britain or Ireland.
3
 
The British colonial legacy, with its history of immigration policies that favored whites 
from the United Kingdom and lasted through the 1970s; and British institutions, in-
cluding a school system based on the model of English public schools and attendant 
curricula and culture; and a justice system based on British common law continue to 
inculcate and reinforce a British bias in New Zealand?s ideological and cultural 
infrastructure.
4
 As a matter of law as well as ethnic identification, Pacific Islanders are 
                                                
2
 Statistics New Zealand. 
3
 http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/culture/home-away-from-home, 8/8/2007. 
4
 See King 2003; Belich 1986, 1996; Sinclair 1988; et cetera. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 47 
 
distinguished from the indigenous M ori and are made up of approximately five ethnic 
groups hailing from as many groups of islands. The major groups are Samoan, Cook 
Island, Tongan, Niuean, Fijian, and Tokelauan. The total population of Pacific Islanders 
is about 200,000 people and they account for about 6% of the total New Zealand 
population. People of Samoan descent number about 100,000 and are by far the largest 
single group ? the next largest group, Cook Islanders, number only about 47,000. There 
are over 500,000 self-identified M ori ? about 14.5% of the total population.
5
  
Asians currently make up about 9% of New Zealand?s population. According to the 2001 
Census, 44% of Asians identified as Chinese, 26% as Indian, 8% Korean, 5% Filipino, 
4% Japanese, 3% Sri Lankan, 2% Cambodian, 2% Thai, and 8% with other Asian ethnic 
groups.
6
 New Zealand strongly discouraged Asian immigration on racial and ethnic 
grounds throughout the bulk of the 20
th
 century, and the impact of Asian musics and 
cultures on New Zealand has been attenuated as a result. Current policy privileges 
economic factors over ethnic and cultural ones and Asians are the fastest growing ethnic 
group in contemporary New Zealand.
7
 
The number of Pacific Islanders in New Zealand has undergone large-scale growth over 
the past half century. The 1945 census reported 2,000 Pacific Islanders who comprised a 
scant 0.1% of the total population. Various factors have contributed to the growth in 
numbers, including work and educational opportunities and a concomitant lack of 
                                                
5
 Statistics New Zealand, 1996 Census. 
6
 Totals exceed 100% because the New Zealand Census allows for multiple identifications. 
7
 Statistics New Zealand, 1996 Census. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 48 
 
opportunity or resources on ?home? islands. The most recent waves of migration from 
Pacific Islands have been primarily motivated by economic opportunity, provided largely 
by industrial growth in New Zealand?s larger cities. As a result, recent Pacific migrants 
have concentrated in these areas. This movement is part of a general trend toward 
urbanization as  Pakeha, M ori, and others increasingly concentrate in cities for economic 
reasons. This trend has ramifications for M ori identities in particular. 
Although M ori have traditionally been strongly associated with particular areas (the 
term tangata whenua or ?people of the land,? is generally accepted as a literal statement 
of M ori indigenous identity), M ori migration from rural to urban circumstances has 
accelerated in recent years. However, many M ori people have maintained a strong 
connection to their home places and kinship groups (hapu) in subsequent generations. 
The strong connection to a home place or originating island is evident in other Pacific 
populations as well, but in contrast with M ori the bond seems to lessen in subsequent 
generations. Some of the factors in this difference are probably distance and the expense 
of traveling ?home? on a regular basis. Another important factor would be the limited 
economic resources and room for growth on most Pacific Islands. In fact the population 
of groups like Samoans living outside of Samoa in places like Auckland or Los Angeles 
is vastly greater than in Samoa itself, which could not possibly support these numbers.  
First generation Pacific Islands emigrants tend to construct ?tradition? strongly in relation 
to their originating islands and villages, a practice that is reinforced by immediate (as 
opposed to imagined) ties to family who remain behind. Frequently these emigrants have 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 49 
 
migrated ? and been supported in their migration ? by family (and villages) dependent 
on economic support flowing from the migrants.
8
 
Large numbers of M ori and Pacific Island people migrating to urban circumstances and 
desiring to maintain their cultural identity has resulted in the development of institutions, 
practices, and social constructs that enable people to maintain a sense of their distinct 
cultural identities even as they form new ones. In New Zealand, Pacific Island churches 
substitute for villages and urban marae (the traditional meeting place and center of a 
M ori village or pa) have sprung up to accommodate M ori in their pursuit of traditional 
lifestyles and identity in new circumstances. 
This section has dealt with demographics of cultural and ethnic groups in New Zealand, 
their histories, and patterns of migration. I now turn to historical and social contexts of 
?New Zealanders,? with attention to details of historic and contemporary attitudes and the 
construction of New Zealand national identities. 
Historical and Social Context 
From my home in Anderson?s Bay in Dunedin where I lived from 1984 until 1993, I 
looked down on a causeway ? the main route into the city proper ? that was built by 
the labor of M ori conscripts who had been spirited south in the 19th century in order to 
quell their protests over the arguably illegal confiscation of their lands at Parihaka in the 
Taranaki region of the North Island. Yet M ori (not to mention other Pacific peoples) 
seemed to play little part in the quotidian existence of the average (white) person in 
                                                
8
 See Spoonley 2003. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 50 
 
Dunedin, and in New Zealand at large, where they were little-seen in the central business 
districts (as opposed to suburban ghettos) of the urban centers.  
Indeed, in many parts of New Zealand, M ori have had a kind of a subliminal, almost 
ghostly presence ? like spirits lingering on the periphery, just out of sight and beneath 
the surface of consciousness. They are there in the names of places and the artifacts of 
their presence are visible to be read, if you know the historical codes and are sensitive to 
movement on the periphery. 
However this quasi-Ellisonian ?invisibility? does not mean that M ori are not heard. 
Early History ? First Encounters 
Polynesians first settled Aotearoa (M ori for ?Land of the Long White Cloud?) New 
Zealand in the 13th century during a period of widespread ocean travel.
9
 The first 
recorded encounter between Europeans and M ori in New Zealand occurred in 1642 
when Abel Tasman sailed into the area now known as Golden Bay in the northwest 
corner of South Island. Tasman?s vessel was met by two canoes carrying men who 
?shouted out in rough voices and blew many times on an instrument.?
10
 Tasman respon-
ded by having his men blow on a trumpet in reply. The following day Tasman sent a 
landing party of six men, four of whom were beaten to death in an encounter on the 
shore. McLean speculates that by responding in like fashion to the trumpet overture of 
the M ori, Tasman may have inadvertently accepted a challenge to fight. 
                                                
9
 King 2003: 48. 
10
 McLean 1996: 23. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 51 
 
The next known European contact came when Captain Cook visited in 1769. From that 
time until the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi between M ori and the British Crown in 
1840, there was sporadic interaction with Europeans, mostly with whalers, sealers, and 
other traders from France, Germany, Britain, and the United States.  
Sea shanties and hymnody are the earliest known European influences on M ori music 
making. During the late 18
th
 century, seafarers were the main source of European contact 
for M ori, and M ori came to be regular crewmembers on whalers and other vessels of 
the time.
11
 Missionaries interacted with M ori in New Zealand from the early 19
th
 
century and although their numbers were small, their impact was great. In order to 
publish the Bible among M ori, missionaries systematically went about transforming 
M ori language into a written form, beginning with development of a standard 
orthography and compilation of dictionaries. The result was a rapid and profound 
transformation of a M ori cultural economy
12
 that had until that point been based entirely 
on oral transmission and memorization using singing, chanting, and vocalization. The 
written word as a technology was a potential replacement for these traditional means. In 
their zeal to convert M ori to Christianity, missionaries, sought to supplant major oral 
                                                
11
 King notes that Herman Melville?s character Queequeeg in Moby Dick was probably based on a M ori 
crewman aboard the Lucy Ann, a whaling ship that sailed in British and North American waters. King 2003: 
129. 
12
 Haami, citing Jenkins 1991, notes, ?The written word had huge implications for the validation and mana 
[Mana may be translated variously as ?control,? ?authority,? ?command,? or ?status.?] of oral expression, 
which had been all-powerful, and for M ori ?ways of knowing.? ?M ori could not anticipate that 
traditional society would inevitably change dramatically following the introduction of the written word.? 
No longer would its ?reality? be ?what a person ?said? it was?; no longer would its words be those of its 
leaders ?speaking the world ? [it] fell to those who could read and write to determine the future realities 
and the ways of the world.?? Haami 2004: 15. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 52 
 
and musical elements of various cultural performances like tangihanga (funeral rites)
13
 
with ?more appropriate? cultural performances associated with Western religious 
practice, including hymn singing. Indeed some commentators attribute the dying out of 
performance on traditional musical instruments (taonga p oro) to missionary desire to 
install Western Christian music practices. The missionaries were successful to the extent 
that the bulk of M ori people tend to identify as Christian; however, M ori cultural 
performances have reemerged in the mix (if indeed they were ever missing) and the 
resulting flavors of Christianity are both syncretic and reflexive. 
By establishing the written word, missionaries set the stage for establishing a treaty 
between the M ori and the British Crown.  
Treaty of Waitangi ? Nation Building 
The Treaty of Waitangi was signed at Waitangi in the Bay of Islands on February 6, 1840 
by Captain William Hobson, several British residents, and some forty-five M ori chiefs. 
The merits of the agreement were (and remain to this day) a highly contested issue, but 
an influential chief, Tamati Waka Nene, turned the debate in favor of the Treaty. The first 
M ori to sign was Hone Heke; three other chiefs placed their signature above his later 
that day. The document signed at Waitangi was then taken to various other Northland 
locations and, from there, to other parts of the North and South islands to obtain 
additional M ori signatures.
14
 
                                                
13
 Often shortened to ?tangi? which literally means to weep, wail or cry out, tangihanga are traditional rites 
for the dead where numbers of people assemble to mourn for days or even weeks. 
14
 www.archives.govt.nz, accessed 3/2/2004. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 53 
 
The Treaty of Waitangi was originally written in English and then translated into M ori 
by the Reverend Henry Williams of the Church Missionary Society (CMS). Williams 
subsequently translated the M ori version back into English and this became the official 
version of the Treaty. Williams?s final translation carried the codicil, ?I certify that the 
above is as literal a translation of the Treaty of Waitangi as the idiom of the language will 
admit of [my emphasis].?
15
 The meaning of the Treaty?s words is an ongoing matter of 
contention and an effort to resolve discrepancies between the two versions comprises an 
early and ongoing site for synthesis of national identity. Discrepancies in English and 
M ori translations of this document are attributable to culturally based affective differ-
ences which are embedded in symbologies, including music, and are discussed further in 
Chapter Four. 
After the Treaty was signed, settlement by the British began in earnest. During this time 
some M ori sold land to the Crown and organized migration from Britain began. M ori 
had very little idea of just how many people were about to descend upon them.  
British colonization of New Zealand was driven by hope of economic gain, and 
acquisition of land was a priority for early colonists. A series of wars over issues of land 
and sovereignty between British colonialists (sometimes including British troops, 
colonial militias, and sympathetic M ori) and various M ori began around 1845 and 
continued for some 25 years.
16
 During this period various M ori tribes came together for 
                                                
15
 Public Record office, London, CO 209/7, 13-15 cited in ?All About the Treaty,? (New Zealand) State 
Services Commission booklet 2005. 
16
 Conflicts continued on a smaller scale for considerably longer. The last violent conflict over sovereignty 
was a police action that took place at Maungapohatu in the Uruweras in 1916. Belich 1998.  
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 54 
 
the first time in order to more effectively combat the British who were seen as unified 
under a single King. The M ori King movement (Kingitanga), which comprised ack-
nowledgement by M ori of what they perceived as a superior method of military (and 
religious) organization, was one result. These wars ? variously called the Land Wars, 
the New Zealand Wars, or Ng  Pakanga Nunui o Aotearoa,
17
 ? ultimately led to the 
confiscation of land by the British. The combination of these wars, the encroachment of 
the British, and disease led to the reduction of the population and economic base of 
M ori. 
Despite the decline of the M ori population, they continued to resist the British, and, in 
fact, were never defeated as kingitanga evolved into still broader notions of M ori unity 
and identity, kotahitanga (?oneness?). The concept of M ori unity as a survival mecha-
nism was to be articulated in a variety of social, political, and religious movements, 
including Pai Marire, Ringatu, Rangiatea, and Ratana. T.W. Ratana, and his metonymic 
movement, may have provided the most explicit articulation of unity as a means of 
survival by appending the term morehu ? literally ?survivor? or ?remnant? ? to his 
followers.
18
 
Evolving Social and Political Context 
Beginning with the first major waves of European immigration in the 1840s until the 
demise of the Native School system in the 1960s, M ori culture was increasingly 
                                                
17
 Belich 1998. 
18
 The Judaeo-Christian resonance of this term is not accidental. The most important M ori religious leader 
of the 20
th
 century, T.W. Ratana, preached that M ori were the children of Jehovah and identified them 
with the lost tribes of Israel. See Newman 2006. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 55 
 
marginalized. At the turn of the 20th century there was a popular notion that M ori would 
become extinct, as it were. Instead the lot of M ori improved. They made gains in overall 
health and education and also began to regain an economic toehold. M ori presence in 
Parliament (four seats, as dictated by the Treaty) also helped them to rise in a  Pakeha 
(?European?)-dominated land. 
Some of these gains were due to the government-instituted policy of Native Schools, a 
policy that also led eventually to the suppression of M ori language and inculcated the 
notion that assimilation into the ?superior? European society was the most appropriate 
course for ?betterment? of M ori.
19
 Native Schools began to be phased out in the late 
1950s and were eliminated by1969. However, the assimilationist doctrine that was pro-
moted in these schools ? in particular the suppression of M ori language in favor of 
English, creating a ?lost generation? of native speakers of M ori ? has had long 
reaching impact on negotiations of construction and reconstruction of contemporary 
M ori identity.  
In M ori culture (m oritanga or ?ways M ori?), kaumatua, or ?elders,? are given a 
privileged position as speakers and interpreters of M ori identity. Yet many of the current 
generation of elders are members of this ?lost generation? for whom the normal modes of 
intergenerational transmission of culture, particularly as regards language, were 
disrupted. 
                                                
19
 Simons and Smith 2001. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 56 
 
Surviving Colonialism 
At the end of World War One, M ori culture was perceived by many to be in crisis.
20
 A 
series of movements had arisen to confront issues like M ori health, disenfranchisement, 
lack of political clout, and a general perception, particularly among European New 
Zealanders that M ori were a primitive and dying race. These movements fell into two 
broad categories: one approach, championed largely by M ori who had access to Western 
education, advocated solving problems through a top-down, national/institutional (i.e., 
legislative) approach; and the other operated at a more grassroots level and emphasized 
local action through traditional M ori methods and mechanisms (kaupapa M ori) that 
sought to improve the lot of people on a local, community-by-community basis. 
The notion that Western ways were necessary, inevitable, better, or more civilized, or 
some combination of these valuations was internalized by many M ori in leadership posi-
tions. The Young M ori Party, whose members worked at government and parliamentary 
levels (primarily via seats set aside for M ori), and who advocated adoption of some 
?modern? European values, epitomized the former group. Encyclop?dia Britannica 
describes the Young M ori Party as ?an association of educated, westernized M ori of 
the late 19th and early 20th centuries, dedicated to bringing about a degree of cultural 
assimilation of the M ori nation to the dominant pakeha (white) culture of New 
Zealand.?
21
  
                                                
20
 See King 2003. 
21
 ?Young M ori Party,? Encyclop?dia Britannica Online. www.search.eb.com.proxy-um.researchport. 
umd.edu/eb/article-9078070, 1/12/2007. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 57 
 
Among the leaders of the Young M ori Party, Sir Peter Buck, Director of M ori Hygiene 
in post-World War One New Zealand whose later accomplishments as an anthropologist 
were to become legend in the Pacific, is quoted as saying: 
The [M ori] communism of the past meant industry, training in arms, good physique, the 
keeping of the law, the sharing of the tribal burden, and the preservation of life. It was a 
factor in the evolution of the race. The communism of today means indolence, sloth, 
decay of racial vigor, the crushing of individual effort, the spreading of introduced 
infections, diseases, and the many evils that are petrifying the M ori and preventing his 
advance.
22
  
 
At its most extreme, this top-down movement by M ori leaders sought to impose new 
behaviors on M ori through European institutions and on an ideological basis that 
effectively subordinated traditional M ori culture. They also sought to remake M ori in 
European eyes through measures like adoption of recruitment quotas among M ori for 
the war effort ? a measure designed to improve the image and perceived worthiness of 
M ori as members of the New Zealand nation. Proponents of this strategy hoped that it 
would lead to acceptance by the (by that time) vast European majority and hence, equal 
citizenship.
23
 In Chapter Three, I examine evolving notions of M ori leadership and 
worth in contemporary New Zealand through case studies involving young M ori 
(rangitahi) musicians in leadership roles.  
These types of strategies had limited success among the M ori populace at large. The 
histories and political situations of various tribes and regions were subject to a great deal 
of variation and globally imposed policies tended to have spotty or limited traction 
                                                
22
 Quoted in King 2003: 332-3. 
23
 Ibid.: 333. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 58 
 
among local communities. On the other hand, the M ori traditionalist approach tended to 
privilege a set of ancient tribal manners and practices known collectively as tikanga 
(literally ?correctness? or correct behavior or deportment) and in place-specific appli-
cation as kawa.
24
 This elaborate system of highly localized customs and protocols pre-
dates European colonization and is based upon knowledge of variations in local histories 
and customs ? these protocols vary from marae to marae and their proper execution is 
highly dependent on local knowledge. To learn and properly apply tikanga requires a skill 
set that includes patience (i.e., tolerance of slow-moving processes) and sensitivity ? 
characteristics that weren?t necessarily as effective for coping with European hegemony 
and the radical, rapid changes that were inexorably being wrought on M oridom by 
contact with a unified and organized colonialist adversary, not to mention the forced 
entry of M ori into a new global economy.  
As a matter of practicality, M ori modernist and traditionalist movements overlapped one 
another, and even European- and American-educated M ori remained attached to, if not 
strongly rooted in M oritanga. The efforts of both groups were consistent in that they 
promoted a pragmatic response to the fundamental reality that Europeans were to be a 
permanent feature of New Zealand, and that M ori survival depended the ability of the 
indigenous people to adapt to a new reality.
25
   
Various new European ways impressed M ori and they sought to adopt and adapt the 
most effective of these, including technologies and ideologies. M ori were particularly 
                                                
24
 Mead 2003: 8. 
25
 King 2003: 332. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 59 
 
impressed by the concept of unification ? under one King, and under one God. The 
unification of the British under a king inspired several pan- or transtribal movements that 
pre-dated the assimilationist trope, including the Kingitanga movement, which directly 
sought to name a M ori King in imitation of the British, and Kotahitanga (oneness or 
unity).  
M ori adaptation of European methods was not narrowly restricted to matters of political 
expediency ? literacy, religion, spirituality, and culture in general were also areas where 
M ori people consciously adapted European ways to suit their own needs. M ori admired 
monotheism, and the result was early adaptation of Christianity by increasing numbers of 
people. Some important examples of syncretic M ori religions that combine M oritanga 
and European Judaeo-Christian elements include Pai Marire, Rangiaatea, Ringatu, and 
Ratana. All of these movements, as well as M ori congregations of ?mainstream? 
Christian churches featured early adoption and adaptation of European music ? 
melodies and hymnody, in particular, although popular melodies and styles have also 
been grist for the mill.   
In any case, not all European practices and beliefs were without pre-existing analogs in 
M ori culture, and music, both historically and contemporarily, has provided a means to 
negotiate, represent, and reconcile some differences between and amongst M ori, 
Europeans, and others. This process of reconciliation through music and arts intensified 
from the late 1960s forward to the present as arts movements among cultural groups in 
New Zealand began to converge. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 60 
 
Emergent Identities and the Arts 
During the 1960s, an identity increasingly distinct from the British roots of the majority 
population had begun to form among Europeans in New Zealand. This emergent national 
identity was largely stimulated by developments in the arts as New Zealand artists 
became more self-confident and sought their materials and their inspiration locally. 
Economic disengagement from Britain reinforced this process. 
During the 1970s, New Zealand?s economic and cultural ties to the United Kingdom 
began to weaken, largely as the result of the UK entering into the European Economic 
Union and disengaging itself from New Zealand as a trading partner. Prior to that time, 
New Zealand had dutifully shipped most of its export goods to Britain while maintaining 
a kind of parent-child relationship with the ?mother country.? New Zealand?s economic 
dependence on Britain was mirrored in its educational and cultural institutions. When 
Britain disengaged, New Zealand was forced to reorient itself ? economically and even-
tually culturally ? toward other markets, particularly in the Asia-Pacific region.
26
 An 
Auckland journalist, Colin James, wrote: 
While our politicians have been locked into Europe?our artists and poets have been 
reaching towards a self-sufficient definition of European-descended New Zealand. Our 
habits, our customs, our attitudes [are being] measured for the first time against New 
Zealand touchstones.? Give us one, maybe two more generations?and we will feed no 
more through [Europe].?
27
  
 
A change in emphasis from a Eurocentric value system has gradually become institu-
tionally accommodated, yet systems for legitimizing artists and performers have tended 
                                                
26
 Spoonley 2003. 
27
 Quoted in King 2003: 467. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 61 
 
to retain a Eurocentric bias. Institutional change has generally been fueled by emphasis 
on biculturalism and the Treaty of Waitangi. King notes: 
Throughout the 1970s the country was making a gradually stronger commitment to 
biculturalism. In the education system, in the administration of some state institutions 
such as the Arts Council and Historic Places Trust, the nation began to downplay its 
Anglo-Celtic heritage, which had previously been the only basis for public policy-making 
in the culture and heritage sectors. ?The changes were brought about largely by M ori 
activists, who were determined that M ori ought to be able to behave as M ori in wider 
New Zealand life rather than submerge their identity in favour of Pakeha mores and 
values.
28
  
 
Prior to that time, Britain and Europe were regarded as the primary source of legitimate 
?culture? in New Zealand. Since then, there has been an increasing shift in the acceptance 
of and emphasis on local arts and culture so that New Zealand-originated literature, visual 
arts, and music have risen even as local wines and cuisine have begun to be acknowl-
edged as ?world class.? This reorientation is manifest in music repertoires and school 
music curricula as well as place-oriented festivals and musical and other artistic expres-
sions of a new cultural nationalism that draw heavily on M ori and Pacific cultures.  
Biculturalism 
The term ?biculturalism? has been applied to this sharing of power and cultural clout, 
particularly between European and M ori, in New Zealand. According to Sissons, the 
term was used by Eric Schwimmer in 1968 in an ?inclusionary sense? to refer to ?full 
citizenship in three senses: equal civil rights; full sharing in the processes of government 
and the exercise of power; and equality of resources and capacities necessary to make 
                                                
28
 King 2003: 465. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 62 
 
equal rights into fully equal opportunities.?
29
 Ranganui Walker and other M ori aca-
demics and nationalists have expressed preference for the term ?biculturalism? over 
multiculturalism because they feel the latter term waters down what they see as a dichot-
omy between the indigenous people of New Zealand ? the tangata whenua ? and 
everyone else, who are seen as ?non-indigenous colonisers?: 
The Pakeha [European] in-word ?multi-culturalism? has negative connotation for M oris 
because it denies the basic reality of biculturalism. New Zealand is a bicultural country. 
The primary task of M ori is to convert the Pakeha to recognise the reality and to modify 
the country?s institutions to incorporate compatible M ori values. Biculturalism is 
predicated on the basis that there are tangata whenua, indigenous people of the land, and 
non-indigenous colonisers.
30
 
 
Sissons goes on to describe a ?M ori renaissance? that took place in the 1980s during a 
period of time when New Zealand began to take seriously the provisions of the Treaty of 
Waitangi, which guaranteed autonomy of M ori chiefs (rangatiratanga) and the undis-
turbed possession of their lands in exchange for their acceptance of British governance 
(kawanatanga). Sissons says, ?the term ?renaissance? properly refers to a revival of art, 
linguistic forms and other aspects of ?high? culture based on the models of an earlier era.? 
He goes on to say that the ?expressive aspects? of M ori culture ? the expansion of 
M ori language programs, particularly kohanga reo (?language nest?), exhibitions like Te 
M ori, which opened at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1984 and toured 
                                                
29
 Sissons 1995: 61-63. 
30
 Walker quoted in Sissons 1995: 61. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 63 
 
internationally, growth of M ori studies in universities, et cetera ? were ?merely the 
more visible manifestations of a push for political and economic inclusion.?
31
 
Emergence of M ori Institutions 
Over a twenty-year period of living in New Zealand, I observed changes in the way 
M ori and Pacific people and cultures are marked ? their visibility and status in New 
Zealand media ? and their perception among the general populace. These changes in 
visibility and status are driven by numerous factors, not the least of which have been var-
ious movements aimed at redress of Treaty grievances and the political ramifications of 
their efforts. Indeed, performances ? demonstrations, music, and street theatre of various 
kinds ? have greatly contributed to these changes in visibility. These performances have 
also resulted in a convergence of some cultural ?streams.? 
During the 1980s, around the time that the Te M ori exhibition of ancient M ori artifacts 
opened in New York City, a television program called ?Te Karere? (?the news? or ?the 
bulletin?), began a series of regular broadcasts of short programs, in M ori and English, 
over the national television network. These programs featured a M ori point of view and 
were a step toward institutional mainstreaming of M ori and Pacific cultures in broadcast 
media.
32
 However, the watershed moment for this process didn?t come until 2004, when 
                                                
31
 Sissons 1995: 62-63. 
32
 Te Karere began broadcasting for four minutes every evening beginning March 28, 1983, http://www. 
filmarchive.org.nz/tracking-shots/close-ups/WhakaataurangaMaori.htm, 4/15/2007. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 64 
 
in the spirit of biculturalism and the Treaty of Waitangi
33
 a new government-sponsored 
television network, M ori Television, opened its doors to provide full-schedule program-
ming featuring a M ori kaupapa and devoted to presenting a full range of content catering 
to M ori and Pacific tastes and bringing indigenous viewpoints to the fore.  
The existence of M ori Television and the more intensive, in-depth coverage that it 
brings to local and indigenous stories and events appears to have had a ripple effect, and 
other ?mainstream? stations seem to be offering more M ori and Pacific Island content in 
response. This may be due to the greater availability of footage on indigenous topics 
thanks to the seemingly omnipresent M ori Television camera crews at indigenous 
events, or the stimulation of a larger market for homegrown and indigenous material and 
competition for these audiences as they increasingly turn to M ori Television as a 
viewing source.  
In contrast, New Zealand print media seem to take little notice of things M ori. Even 
now, in the early 21st century, the major New Zealand newspapers are curiously lacking 
in local cultural content, M ori or European ? these print media tend to derive the bulk 
of their arts and culture content from happenings in a global culture market, and they tend 
to frame local content in terms dictated by movements centered in Europe and America. 
This disconnect, between what is read (i.e., what appears in print media) and what is 
heard (on television and radio), seems analogous in ways to the presence ? the type, 
                                                
33
 The impetus for this move came from a M ori Council claim to the the Privy Council based on the Treaty 
of Waitangi?s stipulation that M ori language (te reo) is a taonga under Article Three of the Treaty (The 
M ori Television Service Act 2003). 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 65 
 
kind, and degree of visibility ? that indigenous people have in New Zealand culture at 
large. This disjuncture between what is heard and what is written can be seen as a 
metaphorical disjuncture between written and lived experience. It corresponds to an 
interstitial space where new cultural performances take place and where new traditions 
are sometimes formed. These performances have the capacity to at least momentarily 
bridge the metaphorical gulf ? and they have the potential to heal, or at least ameliorate 
a rift between cultures. Among these ?new? performances are new iterations of some 
popular musics, ?European? classical music, and some ?traditional? Pacific and other 
performative forms which have come to be inclusive of non-traditional participants. Case 
studies of some of these forms and genres are put forward in Chapter Three.  
New Zealand Identity Discourse and the Academy 
Evolving interpretive frameworks are being formed inside New Zealand as part of a 
lively discourse with significant input from academics of various ethnic and cultural 
backgrounds. As part of our setting out of situations and attitudes, we examine some 
influential scholarship from historians, sociologists, anthropologists, and ethnomusicolo-
gists who have participated in the construction of contemporary intercultural discourse, 
and new interpretations, and traditions in New Zealand.  
Historians, particularly James Belich and Michael King but also James Cowan and Keith 
Sinclair, have played an important role in deconstructing narratives that tended to 
privilege a Eurocentric viewpoint, particularly the notion that M ori and other indigenous 
cultures were inferior to European cultures and that it was appropriate to supplant or 
eradicate cultural performances, including language and music.  This work has had a pro-
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 66 
 
found impact on academia as well as on New Zealand popular imagination ? by opening 
up discursive space for new constructions and reconstructions of identities.  
This section deals primarily with taxonomies of European and M ori cultural identities 
? the bicultural partners. While ?traditional? M ori identity tends to be cast as a distinct 
(as opposed to hybrid or conjoined) category, it is notable that the construction of 
?M ori? as a national identity is a response to European occupation of New Zealand. 
?Others? are treated as a catchall with some ?subcultural? categories being delineated. 
?Traditional? M ori Identity 
Sociologist Tracey McIntosh, who is M ori and claims Tuhoe as her iwi
34
 (?tribe?) says, 
identity is ?an attempt?to create an enduring cohesive narrative?.? Emphasizing 
?claims making? within this narrative, she describes a variety of possible interpretations 
for the standardized place-oriented M ori identity performance,
35
 where ?identity is at 
times offered as a link to others, connecting my creek to their river; sometimes it is a 
presentation of self allowing others to do the work of social location, letting them attempt 
to fit me within their own schemas and classifications; sometimes it is an affirmation of 
my relationships, both intimate and distant; and sometimes it is simply a challenge.?
36
 
McIntosh posits three facets of contemporary M ori identity formation: the relationship 
between a ?traditional? M ori identity and its relationship to a contemporary M ori 
                                                
34
 McIntosh 2005: 38. 
35
 The standard formula for telling people who you are proceeds by stating your tribe (iwi), mountain 
(maunga) and river (awa) followed by the exclamation ?Tihei mauri ora!? Which may be loosely translated 
as ?Here I stand, sneezing the breath of life!? 
36
 McIntosh 2005: 38. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 67 
 
renaissance; ?fluid? identities as manifested in ?fusion/hybrid? identities of young people 
who have grown up in mixed and urban environs that are atypical of the past; and also 
?forced? M ori identities that are formed ?under conditions of deprivation.?
37
  
McIntosh renders contemporary articulations of ?traditional? identity in terms of a set of 
?identity hooks? or markers: whakapapa ? knowledge of one?s genealogy, the kinship 
system that it represents and the ability to articulate/recite it; matauranga M ori (M ori 
?knowledge?) ?an understanding of a M ori worldview manifested in usage of 
whakatauki (proverbs) during formal speech-making or whaikorero; Te Reo (M ori 
language); and tikanga (appropriate behavior and custom as practiced by  groups with 
reference to a specific locale). According to this formulation, in order to aspire to a claim 
of ?being M ori,? one must be able to whakapapa (recite one?s genealogy to establish a 
blood claim to specific M ori descent), know what appropriate behavior (tikanga literally 
translates as ?correctness?) is under a variety of circumstances related to where you are, 
who you are with and the nature of the occasion and your role; and also act according to 
that model of correctness.
38
 McIntosh posits this as a ?power-positioned? articulation 
from which M ori spokespersons and leaders derive legitimization and power. In fact, 
she says:  
This identity is constructed by culturally and politically adept M ori who consciously 
work towards ensuring that M ori values and aspirations receive wide coverage.
39
 
 
                                                
37
 Ibid.: 39. 
38
 McIntosh 2005: 44. 
39
 Ibid. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 68 
 
A tacit sense of place underlies each of these articulations. The basic self-identification of 
M ori as tangata whenua is translated as ?people of the land.? But the term whenua also 
means ?afterbirth? ? traditionally M ori ritualistically commit the placenta to the earth, 
reinforcing sense of place as a strong theme. Whakapapa is not merely a human geneaol-
ogy, but also relates people to the things of the earth and sky from which humans are seen 
as springing. The common identity ritual by which M ori identify themselves in public 
relates the person to a specific mountain, river, and ocean. Te reo, M ori language, is 
inflected by region and although adept M ori speakers easily negotiate the various 
dialects and their differences, the differences themselves are regionallly specific and no 
dialect is privileged as being more correct than another. Matauranga M ori, M ori 
?knowledge? or ?wisdom,? is formally expressed in whakatauki or ?proverbs,? but whak-
atauki are highly place specific and understanding them requires knowledge of the places 
and associated events. Similarly tikanga ? that which is correct ? is highly place speci-
fic and variable.
40
 Indeed mastery of tikanga and the other cultural markers is most 
readily obtainable on the marae, the sacred grounds that form the center of any given 
M ori community.  
As the basis of a M ori cultural economy, these markers provide a means for even ?ordi-
nary? people to aspire to power and influence. But true mastery requires that an indi-
vidual be conversant with regional and marae-specific differences, genealogies, language, 
tikanga, and general lore. Just as importantly, it requires that individuals be able think on 
                                                
40
 Whereas tikanga signifies ?correctness? as a class or domain of general behavior, the specific application 
according to place and people (iwi) is signified by the term ?kawa,? which may be translated as ?practice? 
or ?custom.? See Mead 2003: 8. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 69 
 
their feet and learn quickly when confronted with an unfamiliar protocol. The proof of 
this mastery is formally performed during whaikorero, where music and oratory form a 
basis for interaction between spokespeople, their supporters, and the groups they repre-
sent. In this traditional context, musical mastery becomes a basis for people?s aspirations 
in a range of local and national arenas because it is a demonstration of command (mana) 
of tools and protocols necessary for good governance, including knowledge of peoples, 
histories, and esthetics. It is noteworthy that, while this mastery reflects extensive knowl-
edge of localities, it has become general in scope, because contemporary M ori are 
simultaneously a tribal, (i.e., hapu- or kinship-based) and a national culture. Indeed music 
plays a major role in the maintenance and construction of connections between  national 
and local identities. For example, ritual performances like powhiri facilitate interaction 
between groups from both near and far in traditional ritual of encounter and the creation 
and performance of hakas by ethnically mixed, but nationally unified athletes have 
become emblematic of a New Zealand identity built around a M ori core. 
Urban M ori and the Treaty of Waitangi 
In this section I discuss the impact of urban migration on traditional M ori identities as a 
prelude to further discussion of ways in which music is being used to re-form tradition 
and reconnect populations who have been alienated as the result of urban dislocation. 
New Zealand identity discourse has been framed along economic, social, and political 
lines. Social and political landscapes are shaped by economic realities, such that eco-
nomic imperatives can be seen as a root cause in the disturbance or disruption of 
traditional identities and as a significant factor in the construction of new ones. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 70 
 
Traditionally, M ori tribal groups or ?iwi? have been defined by an intersection of gene-
alogy and geography. The economically driven migration of M ori from traditional tribal 
areas to cities, and subsequent adaptations and accommodations, has resulted in disloca-
tion and sometimes alienation resulting in disenfranchisement for people in the new 
urban circumstance. Traditional identities must be modified and adapted in order to serve 
the needs of urban M ori. 
The Waitangi Tribunal was established by Parliament in 1977 to review possible treaty 
violations and resulting claims by M ori. This tangible recognition of the Treaty as a 
basis for action ? i.e., as ?more than a historical document? ? is widely perceived 
among M ori as vindication of efforts by a wide range of groups and individuals over a 
period of more than a century. But the success of some of these claims, particularly as 
regards the disbursement of reparation on the basis of traditional tribal identities, also has 
highlighted tension between urban M ori and those living in more traditional 
circumstances and initiated the construction of a ?traditional? identity for urban M ori 
identity that provides for economic enfranchisement.
41
  
                                                
41
 Levine notes that early claims to the Tribunal tended to unify M ori around a common cause ? recog-
nition of the Treaty as a ?contemporary? document and reparation for past injustice and infractions of the 
Treaty.  But the manner of disbursement of reparations has become a matter of contention. Levine cites the 
establishment of a quota management system for commercial fisheries implemented by the Ministry of 
Agriculture and Fisheries (MAF) in 1988 as an example.  
    In order to distribute a M ori ?share? of the commercial fisheries, it was necessary to arrive at a basis for 
distribution of the resource. After protracted negotiation and a court battle, it was decided that the M ori 
quotas would be distributed according to a formula based on iwi and the amount of coastline they 
?traditionally? occupied. This construction of M ori interests did not account for the interests of urban 
M ori who don?t necessarily have connections with traditional iwi. As a result, urban M ori groups have 
sought official recognition as ?urban iwi? and have constructed new urban maraes. Powhiri and other 
traditional performances take place in these new settings. Levine 2005: 108. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 71 
 
For M ori in traditional settings, a large amount of cultural learning takes place through 
osmosis on the marae. The construction of urban maraes has enabled some of this envi-
ronment to be reproduced in cities, but the fundamental dynamic tends to be different ? 
less concentrated due to the ?noisier? environment where other cultural input is always 
present. ?Traditional? performances, including kapa haka and particularly Powhiri, are a 
means for urban M ori to concentrate, reclaim, and assert M ori identity. Urban M ori, 
and particularly young M ori (rangitahi), also typically engage in language study, ex-
ploration of their whakapapas and family (regional) roots and other aspects of M oritanga 
including participation in the revival of Taonga P oro (?treasures of sound? ? traditional 
M ori musical instruments). In Chapter Three, I put forward case studies of urban M ori 
who use Taonga P oro performances in order to participate and reconnect in traditional 
settings on rural marae. 
White New Zealanders: European, Pakeha or Kiwi? 
M ori culture, it would seem, has built in mechanisms for the kind of ?democratic 
construction? of cultural identities and vernacular culture via waiata and haka and other 
performances that form an easy and natural part of M ori institutions. The acknowledge-
ment and inclusion of vernacular culture for white New Zealanders has been more 
difficult.
42
  
                                                
42
 Resistance to vernacular as ?culture? among white New Zealanders has probably been most obvious in 
the adoption of a relatively unaccented version of BBC English by New Zealand radio and television 
broadcasters up until very recently. In a discussion of Pakeha culture in relation to white New Zealanders? 
perception of their ties to Britain as ?home,? Hoey says, ?The model for a suitable character and behaviour 
of a new Briton had then to be created and maintained from an imaginary template. This model was 
constructed in relation to an idea of respectability and any manifestation of a Creole hybridity, whether in 
speech, behaviour, or idiom, needed to be checked. This is the origin of a cultural cringe that sees any 
 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 72 
 
The British roots of Pakeha New Zealand were formed in the ideology of empire ? the 
imagining of a global nationality with a central core and based on a ?sense of identity 
with empire as world state.?
43
 In this frame of reference, new identities formed on the 
colonial periphery can be characterized as a rise of colonial nationalism which Eddy and 
Schreuder describe as a ?transitional phase? in which a colonial society moves toward 
becoming a metropolitan state in its own right, but based on the model of the original 
home state (and modified according to local conditions).
44
 These new societies are 
imagined as being like clones ? formed from the same genetic material, but grown 
according to new environmental influences.  This model does not account for what might 
be termed the mutagenic influences of the local biota. 
For the European-oriented segment of the New Zealand population, performances that 
reference or acknowledge other cultures have historically been largely voluntary and 
?white? New Zealander?s choice of identification is more flexible than that of many other 
ethnic groups. They are the dominant sector of the general population as regards numbers 
and political and economic clout. Most white people are able to carry on without direct 
day-to-day reference to other cultures in a world largely of their own creation. With the 
rise of biculturalism, references to M ori and performances framed against an ?ethnic? 
backdrop have become more frequent, but many white New Zealanders, perhaps a 
majority, are still unlikely to have had a deeper inter-cultural experience than the average 
                                                                                                                                            
development of an indigenous expression as an aberration from the high-mindedness of the [prescribed] 
cultural project.? Hoey 2004: 195. 
43
 Eddy 1988: 7. 
44
 Eddy 1988: 5. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 73 
 
tourist. One explanation for white New Zealanders? lack of emphasis on identity 
performance is the fact that through the colonial legacy a quasi-European viewpoint has 
been structurally embedded in a range of institutions ? educational, financial, legal, and 
political institutions which wield and grant power and confer legitimacy. It is arguable 
that this structural embededness obviates the necessity for more self-conscious kinds of 
identity performance. However it is still possible to observe intense cultural engagement 
within the nation?s institutions, particularly in music and the performing arts. 
There are three categories or orientations for cultural performance by European descend-
ed New Zealanders. Two of these categories ? the ?European? and ?Kiwi? orientations 
? partake of a cultural phenomenon the has been described as the ?Kiwi cringe.?
45
 The 
?Kiwi cringe? is an attitude that presumes that local New Zealand products must always 
be inferior to those originating in other places, notably Britain and Europe. This 
inferiority is situated in (mainly) institutional fine arts ? ?classical? culture, as it were ? 
and as such it is the antithesis to my notion of ?democratic,? or vernacular, culture with 
its roots in spontaneous and unregulated performances. A complementary attitude
46
 is a 
parochial ? ego- and ethnocentric ? disposition that elevates some vernacular culture 
(that located within ones personal sphere) while tending to reject fine arts and all other 
cultural expression that is not immediate and personal.  
                                                
45
 The concept of an antipodean ?cultural cringe? is generally attributed to Australian critic A.A. Phillips, 
who wrote in the 1950s, and who posits two manifestations of the phenomenon: ?Above our writers ? and 
other artists ? looms the intimidating mass of Anglo-Saxon achievement. Such a situation almost 
inevitably produces the characteristic Australian Cultural Cringe appearing either as the Cringe Direct, or 
as the Cringe Inverted, in the attitude of the Blatant Blatherskite, the God?s-Own-country-and-I?m-a-better-
man-than-you-are Australian bore.? Phillips 2006: 2. 
46
 Phillips?s ?the Cringe Inverted.? Ibid. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 74 
 
The ?European? orientation is based on a system of values and ideas based upon a mainly 
Eurocentric viewpoint where these values have been transplanted to New Zealand with 
little local input beyond what is needed to translate (as opposed to transform) European-
generated concepts for local application. This viewpoint privileges a single view of 
history and minimizes place as a relevant factor in construction of identity. It also 
privileges ?high art? and some notion of ?classicism? that is generally rooted in European 
fine arts traditions, and sees little need to go beyond.  In terms of music and cultural 
expression, this means that works from a non-local and non-localized repertoire are 
generally rendered in standardized manner and style ? without substantive change and 
without regard for place. 
The ?Kiwi? orientation is similar to the European insofar as it is ethnocentric and may 
tend to minimize cultural difference and the significance of individual ethnic groups and 
their cultural expressions. This view is based on a local ideology and tends to be utopic/ 
idealistic in that it envisions an imaginary world where ethnic differences are entirely 
subsumed and obviated by a brotherly notion that ?we are all Kiwis,? and that is all that 
really matters.
47
 In contrast to the European orientation, the Kiwi view privileges place 
but denies or minimizes histories prior to those that are explicitly formed in the new 
place. This viewpoint produces performances that are not shy of using (or creating) music 
and performances that draw on elements of ethnic or traditional musics and arts, but are 
prone to disassociate these performances from non-reified or cultural meanings that rely 
                                                
47
 McReanor describes the Kiwi orientation as a model of national unity that is sometimes used to promote 
multiculturalism over biculturalism in order to ?bury the actual diversity under a single entity?.? 
McReanor 2005: 59. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 75 
 
on prior histories. The resulting expressions tend toward irreverent bricolage and 
performances whose value is restricted to commercial or light entertainment. 
A third orientation of European-descended New Zealanders is the ?Pakeha? view. People 
who identify as ?Pakeha? consciously frame themselves historically with relation (or in 
opposition) to M ori. This view embraces, or at least acknowledges, ethnicity as an 
aspect of political and social reality in which all New Zealanders take part in some 
manner.
48
 The Pakeha view tends to be expressed in performances that are place-con-
scious and where traditional and historical threads may be met and negotiated in 
performance. 
It is important to recognize that, while these categories may seem contradictory on some 
level, they are not mutually exclusive, particularly in performance, and varying combina-
tions are likely to be simultaneously present in a particular circumstance. By definition, 
the ?Kiwi? appellation is inclusive of individuals from various ethnic groups, and even 
people who may appear to be non-European, may still identify as such in some circum-
stances.  ?Pakeha? would seem to be the odd category out, as it were; however, this ap-
pellation can be seen as a ?new? ethnicity, one that at minimum acknowledges if not 
embraces a M ori or Pacific ?ethnic? worldview. The ?European? and ?Kiwi? orienta-
tions are disjunct from the ?Pakeha? view because they tend to deemphasize the relative 
importance of ethnicity. 
                                                
48
 See King 1985, 1991, 2004; Hoey 2004; McCreanor 2005. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 76 
 
The Others: Interstitial Identities? 
In addition to the M ori and Pakeha (bi-) cultural groups, there are ?other? groups ? 
visible minorities who are readily identified by New Zealanders as distinctive in everyday 
life: Asians, Indians, Pacific Island people(s), and ?others.? The latter is a catchall cate-
gory consisting of people of color who have immigrated to New Zealand for a variety of 
economic, political, and personal reasons. These include (black) African and Middle 
Eastern refugees and professionals and others. There are also significant numbers of 
white immigrants from Europe, South Africa and other places but who tend to blend into 
the dominant quasi-British majority culture and as such are less visible as distinct cultural 
performers. 
New Zealand cultural diversity has been characterized as having a ?bicultural foundation 
and a multicultural evolution.?
49
 So that British and M ori traditions ? those named in 
(and legitimized by) the Treaty of Waitangi and further enshrined in law ? are 
institutionally privileged by definition. Manying Ip (a Chinese immigrant) notes, ?One 
flaw in this concept [of biculturalism] is that it does not define the place of anyone who is 
non-M ori and non-Pakeha, such as the Chinese.?
50
 So while New Zealand?s bicultural 
framework defines a ?place? in the political and cultural fabric of the nation for European 
and M ori ?immigrants,? other groups? participation is less determinate.  
The  ?place? ? a cultural group?s niche or recognized role in fabric of a society and the 
extent and manner of its engagement with and by the hosts ? occupied by non-M ori 
                                                
49
 Ward and Lin 2005: 155. 
50
 Ip 2003: 227. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 77 
 
non-Pakeha others is impacted by a variety of factors. Longevity and generational depth 
in the new place can be meaningful, but these factors taken alone do not predict a group?s 
engagement with the larger culture. Ip points out that about 25% of the ?ethnic Chinese? 
in New Zealand were born there and that many of these have ancestral roots stretching 
back to the gold rush days of the mid-19th century. The remaining 75% of recent arrivals 
are drawn from a variety of countries, including the People?s Republic of China, Taiwan, 
Hong Kong, and various other overseas regions, yet all of these groups tend to be lumped 
together as ?undifferentiated Asians? ? to M ori and Pakeha alike.
51
  
Meaningful terminology for depicting differentiated Asian groups is largely absent from 
mainstream usage. This deficiency of vocabulary is accompanied by an affective lack of 
engagement with these groups ? differences that may matter within ?outsider? groups 
either are invisible or simply don?t matter to the mainstream.
52
 On the other hand, cog-
nate groups ? ones that have shared or overlapping symbologies like Pacific peoples ? 
are generally more engaged in New Zealand?s cultural and institutional fabric. Their 
needs are more directly addressed and their cultural similarities and differences are expli-
citly considered in public policy on housing, health, education, et cetera. We see that 
symbologic range directly impacts local identity and identification. 
                                                
51
 Ip 2003. 
52
 In Aliens at My Table: Asians as New Zealanders See Them, in which she surveys the historical depiction 
of Asians in New Zealand media, Ip notes, ?The term ?Asia? according to contemporary New Zealand 
convention?is very much ?Asia in New Zealand awareness?. In this context, the term ?Asia? refers to the 
regions that New Zealand is closest to, including East Asia and South Asia, as well as the peninsulas and 
large offshore islands to the southeast of the continent. Among these, East Asia is the most prominent. It 
includes regions like greater China (the People?s Republic of China, Taiwan and Hong Kong), Korea, and 
Japan. ?Asians?, in common New Zealand usage, seldom refers to ?all the different people who are from 
Asia?. Ever since the late 1980s, ?Asians? has often been used to denote Chinese immigrants from different 
regions such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore and Vietnam.? Ip 2005: 13-14. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 78 
 
In New Zealand, ?other? traditions are more or less marginalized and their footing for 
cultural development in the pre-existing (bi-) cultural matrix of the host community ? 
the potential for their ?traditional? cultural imaginings and aspirations to take root in the 
local cultural context is subject to a variety of factors including the availability of 
symbols, categories and markers both emically, within cultural communities, and also 
etically, outside those communities. The construction of shared symbologies, the flow of 
symbols between cultural and mainstream or national ?communities? and the manage-
ment of affective dispositions and mutual cultural engagement between groups is reflect-
ed in and impacted by music, through shared repertoires and musical praxis, visibility, 
audience reception, and participation. Indeed music is potentially a means for cultural 
groups to inject elements of their symbologies into public discourse. Symbol availability 
and flow also impact and are impacted by institutions, including education and media.  
Among categories of others, Pacific Island peoples enjoy the highest degree of symbolic 
differentiation in New Zealand. Cook Islanders, Samoans, Tongans, Niueans have 
separate histories that intertwine with New Zealand?s in such a way as to produce some 
meaningful differences between these groups and these differences are presented and 
performed regularly at festivals like the annual Auckland Savings Bank (ASB) ?Polyfest? 
in Auckland, which began in 1975 and has evolved into major event that involves the 
participation of nearly all of the local secondary schools. Indeed, music originating from 
various Pacific Island cultures has taken root in New Zealand and attracts large 
followings. Several Pacific Island groups have active popular music constituencies (many 
of which are cross cultural), access to broadcast media, record labels, and awards pro-
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 79 
 
grams that have become a vital part of the construction of a ?New Zealand Music? and 
music industry.  
Ethnomusicologists and the Re-Construction of Indigenous 
Music Traditions in Contemporary New Zealand 
Mervyn McLean and Richard Moyle can be considered as twin pillars in New Zealand 
ethnomusicology. Both men are New Zealanders of European-descent, and their work ?
though cast in the mold of salvage ethnography ? is actively being used contemporarily 
by M ori and Pacific Island people as resource material for reconstruction, represen-
tation, commentary and general understanding of musical and performance traditions. 
McLean?s fieldwork and writing have focused on M ori music in New Zealand, while 
Moyle?s focus has been on the originating cultures of Samoan, Tongan, and some of the 
other major Pacific groups who have a significant presence in contemporary New 
Zealand. McLean?s work is of particular significance for this dissertation and for my 
analysis of identity formation in New Zealand. 
Mervyn McLean ? Salvaging  M ori Music 
When I spoke to ethnomusicologist Mervyn McLean in 2006 about my research on music 
and identity formation in New Zealand, he expressed misgivings about ?identity? as a 
theme. According to McLean, during the period of his research (among an earlier 
generation of M ori), notions of ?identity,? particularly in terms of ?claiming or seeking 
identity,? were not an (affective) issue for people: 
I have to admit to some misgivings about the concept [?identity? research] itself. It could 
well be self-fulfilling in terms of the research it generates. I spent a large portion of my 
life recording traditional songs from M ori elders who were convinced of the value of 
this heritage, and wished to perpetuate it by passing their songs on to the next generation. 
Not one of them ever said or implied to me that he or she was doing so in order to define 
or confirm their ?identity.? They were no more in doubt about who they were or what 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 80 
 
they stood for than I am myself. They had a set of values that were shared with and 
conformed to others in their community: they exhibited individual differences that 
sometimes brought them into conflict with the community; and much of what they did, if 
it had any objective beyond the obvious one, served to enhance their own status within 
the community, as elder, as expert, and as bearer of knowledge that others aspired to. In 
this respect they were probably not a great deal different from university professors. 
Identity as such was not articulated, and values that motivated them were simply taken 
for granted. If ?identity? has any meaning at all so far as these people were concerned it 
seems to me that it was concerned less with claiming identity or seeking identity than 
asserting it.
 53
 
Mervyn McLean  
 
Contemporarily, however, ethnographic processes and performances occupy an important 
part of an ongoing dialogic construction and re-construction of identities in New Zealand. 
And, as the most prolific researcher of M ori music, Dr. McLean has had a deep impact 
on these contemporary processes. During the main period of his fieldwork on M ori 
music, from 1958 through 1979 (McLean 2004), McLean encountered and was instru-
mental in constructing a specific moment in the ongoing history of ethnographic 
endeavor. Indeed his characterization of the meaning of identity for his informants ? 
mostly M ori experts and elders (kaumatua) ? as being concerned with an assertion of 
who they were as opposed to ?seeking? or ?claiming? identity is a succinct description of 
the difference between then and now. 
McLean?s work, although distinctly ?modern? in the sense that it was conducted at a time 
when the impacts of movements and interactions of diverse peoples were already being 
(and had for some time been) felt in even the most remote corners of the globe, took 
place at a moment when movements toward social and cultural equity in civil rights and 
social justice were only beginning to bear fruit. 
                                                
53
 Personal communication to H. Anderson, 4/7/2006. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 81 
 
His writing and the Archive of M ori and Pacific Music, which he started at the 
University of Auckland, are principal scholarly sources for M ori music and performative 
traditions. The Archive (administered by Richard Moyle since McLean?s retirement) 
contains McLean?s extensive library of recordings of the small remaining number of 
practicing M ori instrumentalists who were still alive at the time of his main fieldwork 
(late 1950s through 1960s). It also contains material from Radio New Zealand that 
includes wax cylinder recordings dating from the early 20th century. 
McLean?s written work culminated in M ori Music (1993). This study is divided into two 
sections that correspond to pre- and post-European idioms. The first, ?Traditional Music 
and Dance,? is further subdivided into sections on Song and Dance Styles, Music Ethno-
graphy and Music Structure. The second section, ?Impact of European Music,? discusses 
changes in M ori expressive forms as a result of European contact.
54
 Interestingly, most 
of the references to M ori musical instruments in this work are historical ? McLean 
makes only passing reference to current usage of these instruments. This is despite the 
fact that copies of the instruments, made by both indigenous and non-indigenous makers, 
have become increasingly common. In fact, these instruments have become a (contested) 
site of negotiation of identity. The point here is that, although McLean?s work doesn?t 
focus on the reflexive impact of M ori on European performance praxis and McLean?s 
analysis doesn?t account for how M ori are able to claim their birthright and impact 
national institutions (and the formation of a New Zealand national identity) in the present, 
his work is still a fundamental part of the process. 
                                                
54
 McLean 1993. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 82 
 
The ?production of the new? by traditionally ? but not necessarily contemporarily ? 
non-Western peoples is precisely a matter of seeking, constructing, and claiming or 
reclaiming identity.  As we shall see, the assertion of identity that McLean refers to is an 
initial step ? Blumer?s ?emergence? ? in an interactive process of collective definition 
of M ori music traditions.  And McLean is an (inter)active player in the process. 
For the purposes of this dissertation, McLean is an important player because his work has 
a very direct influence on local processes. But, although his work is less focused on more 
distant islands than New Zealand as a site, there are some important aspects of  Moyle?s 
methods and institutional situatedness that are also relevant. 
Richard Moyle ? Constructing  the ?Traditional? Pacific 
Richard Moyle?s work is more focused on other Pacific Islands, but his construction of 
?tradition? and his method of drawing together texts and testimony of his informants, and 
particularly the balance that he strikes between oral testimony and the written record, and 
the relative affective weight he attributes to each, is somewhat reflective of a more 
general institutional situatedness (and what I would call ?institutional inertia?) in New 
Zealand. It also exposes a tension between important indigenous and cultural factions. 
Moyle?s work, commencing with fieldwork conducted in Samoa and environs in the late 
1960s for his doctoral dissertation,
55
 constructs a narrow casting of ?traditional? music 
and culture in situ on the originating, metonymic islands. He proceeds by establishing a 
baseline of early historical, cultural, and musicological accounts with an additional 
                                                
55
 Moyle 1971. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 83 
 
emphasis on audio recordings. His aim was to identify what is ?traditional? in Samoan 
music. He constructs his field to delineate what Clifford would call a ?pure product?
56
 ? 
to minimize what he perceives as ?acculturative influences? that he considers more 
prominent in American Samoa.
57
 Moyle proceeds by historical and field techniques (oral 
testimony of his research subjects) to ascertain what is accepted by Samoan people as 
fa?a Samoa (?characteristically Samoan?) and to compare that with a historical and 
archeological record derived from predominantly non-Samoan sources residing in 
institutionally held written records.  
He emerges with a set of markers for traditional style that include temporal continuity ? 
?attachment to the musical tradition? ? and ?accuracy of transmission.? He says, 
?Aspects of behavior achieve cultural status through temporal continuity.?
58
 Moyle?s 
markers are largely dependent on an interaction between Samoan people in an 
ethnographic present (i.e., what people say during the period of his fieldwork) and his 
reading of a historical record that was constructed by outsiders and continues to exist 
largely outside of Samoan culture, and all of this is focused through Moyle himself. Thus 
Moyle?s process combines some democratic elements, derived from his understanding of 
what Samoan people ?say,? and institutional elements derived from the historical record 
as manifest in literate texts. This process imputes equal weight to exogenous (in place, 
voice, and time) texts and indigenous oral testimony. A problem is that a potential 
                                                
56
 Clifford 1988. 
57
 Moyle 1988: 9. 
58
 Moyle 1988: 10. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 84 
 
tautology results from the fact that the process is itself institutionally embedded in an 
academic discourse, which tends to understate a disjuncture between the oral and written 
components of the research. This disjuncture is emblematic of an ongoing tension 
between oral and inscribed institutions that forms an important element of how groups 
interact and are situated in New Zealand. 
 In the next section I examine M ori and Pakeha ?bicultural? situatedness in New 
Zealand. 
Two Sides of ?Us? 
?[After Captain Cook arrived in 1769] frequent contacts with whalers, sealers, traders 
and missionaries culminated in the recognition of ethnicity as a component of M ori and 
Pakeha identity. Liaisons between M ori women and Pakeha men provided the first 
infusion of Caucasian genes into the M ori genetic pool. M ori-Pakeha offspring were 
labeled with the pejorative term half-caste by the Pakeha. But to the M ori, who 
transliterated the term to hawhe kawhe, there was no social stigma attached. Indeed half-
caste children were admired for their beauty, a product of hybrid vigour. Because of 
differing social attitudes to children of mixed union, it was more common for these 
children to be identified with and socialised in their taha M ori (M ori dimension) than 
their taha Pakeha?. This fusion between the two poles of M ori-Pakeha ethnicity is 
acknowledged by the aphorism: ?Behind the tattoed face is another man. His face is 
white.?
59
  
 
I am concerned here with the functional and structural components of identification and 
socialization that M ori academic Ranganui Walker refers to here as ?taha M ori? and 
?taha Pakeha.? These attitudes and social realities are conjoined but distinctive 
perspectives that exist in a reflexive relationship. Indeed M ori and Pakeha national 
identities in New Zealand may be said to have constructed each other.  
                                                
59
 Walker 1996: 28-29. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 85 
 
Modern ?national? notions of M ori and Pakeha came into being in the same historical 
moment. Belich notes that the various groups that made up the bulk of early immigrants 
from Britain to New Zealand did not think of themselves as a British nation: 
An intriguing feature of mid-nineteenth century Britain is the sense in which it did not 
exist. Welsh, Scots, English and, of course, Irish were still distinct peoples, with different 
economies and societies as well as cultures. Each was also highly regionalised to the 
point where, within each country, let alone between them, language or dialect made some 
people incomprehensible to others.
60
  
 
Similarly, the term ?M ori? simply meant ?normal? at the time when the Europeans 
landed ? the various iwi, hapu and whanau that they encountered made themselves into 
a ?M ori? nation in response to and by interaction with the Europeans.  
Pritchard notes that, ?Despite the tendency of early scholars to emphasize the 
distinctiveness of M ori culture?the line that divided ?the European? from ?the M ori? 
could be crossed in both directions.?
61
 The result in the present is the existence of 
Europeanized expressions of M ori culture and M orized expressions of European 
culture. 
Both ?Europeanization? and ?M orization? require the presence and recognition of pre-
existing structures ? ?traditions? ? comprised of performative forms, symbologies and 
institutions. Affective investment ? what matters and how ? is a major indicator for 
establishing orientation and direction of the flow from one side to the other. 
                                                
60
 Belich 1996: 287. 
61
 Pritchard 2001: 36. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 86 
 
Taha M ori ? Traditional Performances and Evolving Institutions  
Traditional M ori performances are embodied in situ as intensely local phenomena. And, 
although traditional performances have been impacted or disturbed in some sense by 
European colonization, these performances still exhibit a high level of temporal and 
functional continuity. As these traditional performances find a place in national 
institutions, understandings of the performances and the institutions evolve. 
Haka, Whakapapa and Powhiri 
Haka, whakapapa and powhiri comprise three kinds of current and traditional performa-
nces in which M ori culture is inscribed. Whakapapa, usually translated as ?genealogy,? 
is also a performance ? a recitation of the relationships between a person, and the rest of 
the world including outward expanding kinship groups, the earth, the sky, the gods, and 
the universe. Traditionally, learning to recite one?s whakapapa has been a basic expecta-
tion for M ori children. Salmond says: 
Whakapapa (genealogy) was the central principle that ordered the universe and this, too, 
was often expressed in metaphors of plant growth, so that a descent-lie might be 
described as a gourd plant, with the main line as its stem and subsidiary lines branching 
off like twining tendrils which might either flourish, or wither away and die. All things in 
the world were held to share common qualities of life?.
62
 
 
Haka, a traditional performance that continues to be practiced by contemporary M ori 
and others, comprises a site for observing the ongoing construction of new identities. The 
performance of haka by Europeans and others is an example of M orization. Despite a 
?fall-off in the numbers and types of haka being performed, as well as the loss of 
                                                
62
 Salmond 1991: 42. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 87 
 
expertise for many of the variations?when their utility or purpose became redundant,?
63
 
the form remains very popular among M ori, and hakas are performed as an integral part 
of traditional rituals like powhiri. Hakas are also performed in a variety of more 
contemporary circumstances like kapa haka competitions and sporting events. As 
consciousness of a New Zealand national identity has burgeoned, so has the participation 
in haka. Even while M ori still perform haka as an expression of M ori identity, it has 
become accepted that haka can be performed by anyone in support of national activities.
64
 
The overwhelming popularity of rugby in New Zealand culture, and the now de rigeur 
performance of ?the haka,? has elevated it to the status of a national icon.  
This haka, like most traditional M ori performance, is more properly attributed to a 
particular region, tribal affiliation, and person. Indeed, it is most appropriate to whaka-
papa the performance, so that its provenance is made clear. The ?All Blacks haka? that 
begins ?Ka Mate, Ka Mate,? is most often attributed to Te Rauparaha, the arikinui (high 
chief) of Ngati Toa, a tribe whose domain is centered in the vicinity of Porirua, north of 
Wellington. Burns maintains that Te Rauparaha actually modified a still older version of 
this haka around 1810.
65
  
The casting of Ka Mate as a national ?property? is an example of a moment in the 
construction of new identities. Following on the popularity of Ka Mate, the All Blacks 
                                                
63
 Gardiner 2001: 28. 
64
 The most visible instance is ?the All Black haka,? known to most New Zealanders as ?Ka Mate, Ka 
Mate,? and performed prior to matches by the national rugby team. 
65
 Burns 1983: 48-49. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 88 
 
commissioned the composition of a ?new? haka in 2005. The result, ?Kapa o Pango,? is 
itself an abbreviated and modified version of an ancient haka, Ruaumoko. This haka was 
in turn modified and performed as Ko Ranginui on the occasion of the British royal visit 
to New Zealand in 1953.
66
 
What is most significant here is that it is an example of a ?new? cultural performance 
being made, based on a combination of ?traditional? content and methodologies and con-
temporary functionality, interculturally situated but still located within a M ori kau-
papa.
67
 Most striking is the fact that this performance is inclusive of non-M ori within 
this kaupapa, and that the practitioners ? who include Samoans, like retired All Black 
captain, Tana Umanga, Fijians, Europeans, et cetera ? in some sense become M ori (or 
at least M ori) in the process of performing. As a result, M orization and nationalization 
become parallel, if not synonymous processes. 
Powhiri: Ritual of Encounter 
Powhiri (or pohiri, depending on region) is often characterized as ?the M ori
68
 welcome 
ceremony.? Traditionally it is a highly prescribed ritual of encounter involving the ritual 
lifting of tapu (usually translated as ?sacred? or ?forbidden?; however, a more 
appropriate translation in the context of powhiri might be ?unknown? or ?beyond one?s 
                                                
66
 http://folksong.org.nz/ka_mate/#%22Kapa%22, 10/10/2007. 
67
 The Williams Dictionary (7
th
 edition, 1971) defines kaupapa as a ?level surface, floor, stage, platform, 
layer??. In common New Zealand usage it has several translations: protocol, basis, foundation, et cetera. It 
has the connotation of formality born of consensus within the M ori community. So the term ?kura 
kaupapa,? for example, is the standard term for schools run by M ori and founded on general principles 
that are universally accepted as being M ori. 
68
 Similar rituals are a common feature of many Pacific cultures. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 89 
 
control?) from the manuhiri ? the ?others? ? in order to change their state from tapu to 
noa, in order to normalize relations between them and the Tangata Whenua (?the home 
people? or ?the people of this locality?)
69
 The transition between the states of tapu and 
noa is effected by a series of interactive encounters between tangata whenua and manu-
hiri. These encounters involve music (waiata), oratory (whaikorero), and dance (haka). 
M ori Scholar Hirini Moko Mead notes that, in contemporary New Zealand, powhiri has 
been ?generalized to cover all forms of welcome and is not confined only to very 
important occasions when manuhiri (visitors and guests) from outside of the tribe or 
country visit the marae.?
70
 Powhiri has indeed been adapted to many situations beyond 
the traditional marae context. The type and kind of these adaptations are visible in these 
performances and the encounters themselves are both indicative and constructive of new 
relationships between M ori and others in New Zealand. These performances and the 
new normalizations and realities they represent in New Zealand culture are a major focus 
of the fieldwork for this dissertation. 
Music and M ori Survival 
Music has been a particularly important aspect of various movements that have sought to 
facilitate M ori survival in the modern age. Because M ori culture was transmitted 
orally, the various forms of traditional chants evolved to transmit knowledge of geneal-
ogy (whakapapa) and other important aspects of life, history, and culture through waiata, 
                                                
69
 Generally, the term tapu (sacred) is juxtaposed with its opposite, noa (secular), which may be  translated 
in this context as ?normal? or ?known.? 
70
 Mead 2003: 117. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 90 
 
patere, oriori, et cetera. The marriage of these ancient forms with European melodies was 
a natural adaptation. Another major concern for M ori in the new age was the potential 
loss of their language. Again, the recasting of European songs and hymns with the 
substitution of M ori language lyrics was a culturally consistent way to enhance the 
survival of Te Reo, as well as M ori culture. 
Apirana Ngata and Kapa Haka 
Apirana Ngata, a leader of the Young M ori Party, was also a progenitor of kapa haka, a 
contemporary style of M ori music and performance. Ngata was at great pains to pre-
serve elements of M ori culture, even as he espoused some kinds of ?assimilation? to 
European-ness, and he used music and performance to accomplish these ends. Kapa haka, 
which often features guitar accompaniment, is a fusion of elements of traditional M ori 
forms like waiata, poi and haka, with European-inspired song forms and harmonies.  
Ngata?s efforts to transcribe, and later to record traditional singers, pre-dated Mclean?s. A 
member of the Polynesian Society from 1895, Ngata was also instrumental in the estab-
lishment through legislation of the Board of M ori Ethnological Research in 1923, and 
his efforts to preserve traditional waiata and chants of various kinds is evidenced by his 
seminal work, Ng  Moteatea, which was first published in 1959.
71
  
Consistent with the top-down style characteristic of the Young M ori movement, kapa 
haka has evolved into a competitive medium with an extensive and highly prescriptive set 
of codes. Contemporarily, kapa haka is performed almost exclusively by M ori; however, 
                                                
71
 Sorrenson, M. P. K. ?Ngata, Apirana Turupa 1874 - 1950?.  Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, 
http://www.dnzb.govt.nz/, 4/7/2006. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 91 
 
in the mid-twentieth century kapa haka and other Polynesian performance genres were a 
feature of various ?Polynesian Clubs,? where people from different ethnic and cultural 
background came together to study and perform various indigenous genres. These clubs 
were often extra-curricular activities at secondary and tertiary institutions, particularly 
during the 1960s and 1970s. 
Ng  Taonga P oro  
Nga Taonga P oro (?treasures of sound?) is generally translated as ?traditional M ori 
musical instruments.? The term refers to artifacts that were mostly held in museums until 
very recently (the last thirty years or so). According to McLean, the use of these 
instruments had declined almost to the point of extinction by the 1960s, and for many of 
them there is no record of how they were played or used.
72
  
The existence of beautiful carved musical instruments, many of which are pre-European, 
has inspired M ori and others to duplicate these objects and restore them to use. The 
recovery of Taonga P oro as a living tradition ? the construction of new instruments, 
relearning of playing techniques, and redeployment in traditional and new performance 
situations ? is an aspect of a general M ori renaissance in New Zealand. However both 
M ori and non-M ori are involved in the Taonga P oro revival and both M ori and 
Pakeha have used Taonga P oro to discover, explore, and develop private and shared 
notions of taha M ori and taha Pakeha ? particularly among the members of ?lost 
generations? of M ori. The recovery, reconstruction and re-contextualization of these 
instruments, and associated styles and techniques of playing them are a contested site and 
                                                
72
 McLean 1996: 186. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 92 
 
the discourse surrounding their appropriate use and function is constructive (and 
deconstructive) of notions of national identity. 
Taha Pakeha ? Traditional Institutions and Evolving Performances 
For New Zealanders who emphasize their European heritage there is a tension between a 
Euro- ?classical? tradition and more local, vernacular expression. On one hand there is a 
tendency to invest in institutional or external authority and institutionalized authority 
tends to trump democratic, personal, or ?popular? mechanisms for establishing merit or 
worth and European-derived music traditions in New Zealand have looked to Europe, and 
particularly Britain, for sustenance and legitimization. On the other, hand New Zealand-
ers have increasingly looked to find themselves in their performances and artistic expres-
sions, and dependence on external sources has lessened as people find sources of affirma-
tion closer to home. 
The former, Euro-classical, attitude has roots in the trope of New Zealand as a ?Better 
Britain?
73
 ? an ideoscape based on an idealized (and romanticized) construction of New 
Zealand as a Utopia based on ?the best? aspects of Victorian England and Europe, which 
were considered to be pinnacles of enlightenment, refinement, and excellence. This view 
                                                
73
 The trope of a New Zealand as a ?better Britain? has origins in the earliest pushes to attract colonists to 
emigrate. Hoey (2004: 194) notes, ?Although there were powerful political and economic forces underlying 
the colonisation of New Zealand, from the beginning settlers were ?Prised out of their British contexts by 
powerful myths and prophecies? (Belich 1996: 279). One of the most powerful of these myths was that of 
New Zealand as a Utopia. Fairburn (1989: 24) details some of these designations of the colony: ?[a] 
?better? or ?brighter? ?Britain of the South,? the ?Land of Goshen,? a ?land of plenty,? an ?earthly 
paradise,? the ?labourers? paradise,? the ?working man?s paradise?...?a land of milk and honey.?? The 
settlement of New Zealand as a Utopian project is not just a historical metaphor but something that affected 
both the expectations and behaviour of the settlers.? 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 93 
 
of education, arts, and culture was enshrined in New Zealand?s nascent institutions and it 
persists into the present.  
The latter stance has foundation in a ?pioneer spirit? of self-reliance and innovation that 
were necessary qualities for building a national infrastructure ?from scratch? with limited 
local resources.
74
 This ?pioneer? orientation manifests in highly idiosyncratic perform-
ance and composition that is ?democratic? in the extreme in the sense that it is individ-
ualistic and more or less indifferent to institutional approbation.  
Sell attributes early trends in New Zealand musical taste (and music education) to a 
British affinity for ?Law and Order.? Citing Sir Edmund Leach, he says, ??We British 
take it for granted that there is something intrinsically virtuous and natural about law and 
order.? An orderly world is a world governed by precedent and experience, nicely 
organised to cope with facts which we already know.?
75
 Indeed ?credentials,? primarily 
in the form of written documents that establish legitimacy and grant authority, continue to 
be an affective emphasis of European musical endeavor in New Zealand.  
In his 1978 history of the New Zealand Music Teachers? Registration Board, Jennings 
says: 
The character of music in European settlements in New Zealand echoed the culture of 
Victorian England, immigrants bringing with them their music and musical institutions. 
                                                
74
 It is notable that New Zealand?s modern quasi-European infrastructure was built from the top-down with 
(mostly) British capital and from the bottom-up with colonial labor ? a dialectical dynamic that is 
mirrored in the tension between institutional and democratic/vernacular processes in the construction of 
?New Zealand music.? 
75
 Sell 1986: 5. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 94 
 
Singing classes, choral societies and instrumental groups were formed, providing variety 
concerts and evenings of music in both private houses and public halls.
76
  
 
Musical theater and light opera emerged as popular forms of expression. 
Hymnody 
Early British colonists brought military, recreational, and religious musics with them. In a 
movement that had parallels throughout the Pacific, Roman Catholic, and Methodist 
missionaries, as well as Anglicans of the Church Missionary Society (CMS) staging from 
Australia, established themselves in New Zealand beginning in 1814 and brought their 
hymnals with them.
77
  
Church organists and choir leaders had become the main professional opportunities for 
musicians by the late 19
th
 century and musicians were generally credentialed overseas. 
During this period, the Trinity College of Music (originally the College of Church Music, 
London) and the system of exams (complete with traveling examiners) that they 
developed, came to be the primary source of credentialing for New Zealand professional 
(i.e., church) musicians and music teachers.  
British Brass Bands and Early Popular Music Movements 
The seeds of brass band culture were planted early in New Zealand. Newcomb reports 
that the Regimental Band of the 58th Regiment, Imperial Forces, having been dispatched 
from Sydney to Auckland to fight in 1845-47 war with M ori, was ?the first to set foot on 
                                                
76
 Jennings 1978: 2. 
77
 Stillman 1993. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 95 
 
the shores of ?Aotearoa.?? Newcomb also notes that M ori were transfixed by the martial 
applications of this military musical technology:  
When British troops first arrived in New Zealand, one thing that completely bewildered 
the M oris, was the bugle, and when they first heard it sounded at Kororareka, and 
witnessed the soldiers obeying its calls, they exclaimed, ?What is this that speaks at so 
great a distance??
78
  
 
From martial beginnings, brass bands moved quickly to a community basis ? in both 
communities. 
Speaking of the ?transplantation? of British brass band culture to New Zealand and 
Australia, Bythell ? an Australian writing in 2000 ? proposes a view of the brass brand 
as an expression of ?pure? British popular culture that relies on continuing congress with 
the ?home? country and little or no interaction with local cultural influences:  
Amateur bands playing popular works by contemporary European composers, on various 
combinations of cheap, mass-produced wind instruments, were a major element in this 
culture, which was carried around the world?in the heads, hearts, and hands of tens of 
thousands of ordinary European emigrants who took their home-grown customs, 
institutions, and pastimes with them when they put down new roots in strange places. The 
British strand within this transplanted popular culture was particularly important, and it 
was best able to thrive unchecked and little-changed in those small and distant 
communities where immigration from places other than the United Kingdom was 
negligible, and where cultural links with the ?Old Country? were kept strong by being 
continuously renewed?. The diffusion throughout the Empire (and especially the White 
Dominions) of the British Brass band in this period [the beginning of the 20th century] is 
a prime example of this process.?
79
 
 
But some of the same elements that made brass instruments and band music attractive 
and accessible for ?ordinary European emigrants? also made them accessible to various 
                                                
78
 Newcomb 1963: 13-14. 
79
 Bythell 2000: 217. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 96 
 
indigenous people throughout the Pacific, and as immigrant groups become indigenous, 
brass band culture undergoes metamorphosis, too.  
Music Education 
Both private and public music education in New Zealand have historically looked to 
Britain and Europe for legitimization.  As with most pioneer societies, early governments 
of colonial New Zealand put little emphasis on music and arts. Thomson notes that ?The 
Government had little interest in music, and the educational authorities had other 
priorities.?
80
 As a result music education was mostly conducted by private teachers, 
?From the first settlement until 1956?private music teachers and the nuns of the 
Catholic Church shouldered the task of training musicians in New Zealand.?
81
  
Since the early 20
th
 century, private students in New Zealand have been introduced to the 
study of music via the graded Trinity College system, which is implemented primarily 
with imported materials.
82
 British influence extends beyond teaching of music in schools 
to encompass private instruction as well. Sell notes that ?piano teaching was based?on 
[methods] encouraged by the examiners for the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of 
Music and of Trinity College.? He notes further, ?the validity of British, as distinct from 
Continental or American, methods and standards were taken for granted.?
83
 
                                                
80
 Thomson 1991: 265. 
81
 Ibid. 
82
 In a concession to New Zealand?s increasingly local orientation, Trinity?s websites trumpets that, ?We 
are delighted, too, that our new Music syllabuses feature many works by New Zealand composers?? 
http://www.trinitycollege.co.uk/site/?id=620, 8/30/2007. 
83
 Sell 1986: 15. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 97 
 
In this system, students receive qualifications by passing examinations at successive 
levels. Sell notes:  
?New Zealand children are probably the most examined in the world. Tait estimated in 
1966 that about ?one-third of the total number of private pupils in New Zealand take 
examinations annually.?
84
 
 
The eventual emergence of an ?indigenous? or locally-based professional music culture 
would ultimately depend on the quality of local teaching, and teacher training and 
credentialing in New Zealand became an issue in the early 20
th
 century. The Music 
Teachers? Registration Board of New Zealand emerged as a government-sanctioned body 
to regulate and certify teachers. 
Public education in New Zealand was patterned after British models from its inception 
and formal music education is no exception. Sell notes that the ?five most influential 
positions? in music education were established between 1925 and 1928 and ?filled by 
Englishmen.? The first position, Supervisor of School Music Education, was advertised 
in New Zealand and England and filled by Edward D. Tayler of Lancaster. Tayler?s 
appointment was followed by the subsequent appointment of four other Englishmen as 
full-time lecturers at the four Teacher Training Colleges in Auckland, Wellington, 
Christchurch and Dunedin. Sell characterizes the academic and musical backgrounds of 
these five as ?based strongly on the principles of the Stanford/Parry tradition ? good and 
solid, if somewhat formal and unimaginative.?
85
  
                                                
84
 Sell 1986: 16. 
85
 Sell 1986: 3. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 98 
 
Sell identifies the main characteristic of ?English musical thinking? in those early days as 
emphasis on ?training and technique which allowed for a high degree of re-creation of 
music; that is, it was based upon reproducing something, whether in performance, or style 
of composition, that already existed.?
86
 These characteristics would not bode well for a 
musical culture that might eventually accommodate or even recognize non-European 
musical expression. 
Looking to the future, Sell criticizes this ?over-Anglicized? approach saying, ?The ?five 
Englishman? set New Zealand music education on a path which, even at the time, was not 
completely relevant to a society already on its way to establishing a cultural identity, and 
most in need of the stimulus of more varied influences,? and ?New Zealand was in a 
position to draw from many different cultures? elements that were relevant to her own 
development, but preferred to restrict herself to British influence.?
87
 Speaking of the time 
of his writing in 1986 and looking to the future, Sell says:  
?School music educators are within sight of really contributing to the shaping of New 
Zealand?s culture, as the visual artists have been able to do since, over two decades ago, 
they changed the emphasis of their activities from formal imitation to spontaneous 
creativity.
88
  
 
New Zealand ?Classical? Music 
The development of a New Zealand national music that emphasizes local elements within 
the constraints of European classical style, has resulted in an evolving narrative ? a 
                                                
86
 Ibid.: 4. 
87
 Ibid.: 16. 
88
 Ibid.: 17-18. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 99 
 
dialectical process that reveals and recursively impacts the ability of European New 
Zealanders to affectively engage with M ori and other non-European cultures. We trace 
this motion by examining three important New Zealand composers: Alfred Hill (1870-
1960), who sought to include ?M ori music? in his composition (thesis), Douglas Lilburn 
(1915-2001) who initially decried the use of M ori and folk materials (antithesis), and 
Gillian Whitehead (1941- ) who seeks to embody ?M oriness? in her work by means of 
construction and reinvention (synthesis). 
The narrative production of a ?New Zealand national music? has historically rested with 
people who think of that music in terms of a European classical/orchestral model ? a 
similar narrative construction is embedded in the country?s educational and cultural insti-
tutions. The language, technology, and methods of this music were imported from 
Europe. However, over time, the distinguishing characteristics of ?New Zealand music? 
have increasingly become a matter of local discovery and construction.  
The ?New Zealand? content of classical music consists largely of renderings of things 
considered to be unique to the local environment and associated narratives: ?life? in New 
Zealand (initially ?pioneer life? but later including urban and rural themes), ?local? or 
indigenous cultures (particularly M ori but also including Pacific Island cultures, and 
sometimes Asian ones as well as locally grown Pakeha culture), and landscapes and 
depictions of the natural environment like birdsong, et cetera. These ?environmental? 
elements have traditionally been rendering as reified, non-reflexive components whose 
narrative significance is subordinated to and subsumed by the Euro-British model that 
corresponds to a historic orientation of the majority.  
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 100 
 
Tensions between what is local (and presumably unique) and what is distant in the 
imagining of a New Zealand national music produce a cognitive dissonance ? an 
ambivalent disaffection and alienation arising from a set of disjunct narratives ? which 
manifests in music. These disjunct narratives are particularly contradictory as regards the 
valuation and inclusion or exclusion of non-European cultures and their music within the 
trope of New Zealand national music, and the ability of Pakeha New Zealanders to 
engage with these groups and their music. 
Some themes that reflect the disposition of Pakeha toward other groups include: 
isolation/separation, bi-culturalism (inclusion of some, exclusion of others), Pakeha 
dominance (as either power or superiority), multi-culturalism (often with a tacit 
presumption of Pakeha dominance), et cetera. Accompanying these themes are narrative 
constructions of ?the other? that, in various combinations, reinforce or justify these 
dispositions: opacity, alienness, lack of purity, romanticized nobility, ignorance (of 
protocols or ?ways? of the other), fear of giving offense, superiority, and inferiority 
(sometimes simultaneously) of European culture, et cetera.   
As an example of isolation/separation, prominent New Zealand composer and educator 
Jack Body, in his 1999 article on ?The New Zealand Music Identity,? says: 
Although an idealist might call New Zealand a bi-cultural society, in reality it is Pakeha 
values which predominate. When the White New Zealander talks history and tradition he 
invariably identifies with his British ancestry, not with a Polynesian world.
89
  
 
Speaking of using M ori melody as a base for New Zealand composition, Body says:  
                                                
89
 Body 1999: 36. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 101 
 
Superficially, it would seem to he an obvious thing for New Zealand composers to turn to 
M ori music and culture for inspiration and material that they could incorporate into their 
music. But the actual relationship between M ori and Pakeha culture does not encourage 
such borrowing. Traditional M ori music is to Pakeha ears rather austere, and its 
subtleties, which are often related to the M ori language, lost to the White New 
Zealander. Much traditional chant is imbued with great spiritual meaning and may only 
be used by the particular tribe whose cultural property it is.
90
  
 
The reluctance to ?identify? with a ?Polynesian world? sometimes derives from a percep-
tion of opacity and alienness that is simultaneously romantic and patronizing.  This 
perception is underlaid by an affective framework that at one moment devalues M ori 
music for being tainted by European influences (and therefore no longer ?pure?) and at 
other times elevates it and places it beyond reach ? Thomson characterizes M ori and 
Polynesian music circa 1946 as being ?like a locked bank vault of treasures? that was 
inaccessible to Pakeha and of ?limited currency even amongst M ori people.?
91
 
In his seminal 1946 speech, ?A Search for Tradition,? Douglas Lilburn pleads alienness, 
tentativeness, isolation, and ignorance:  
There is also M ori music that has been used by some of our composers [a muted 
reference to Alfred Hill]. If I try to talk about this I?m on rather dangerous ground, 
because I?ve read very little about it, and living mainly in the South Island have heard 
very little of it. My impressions of it are that in its purer state as a part of Polynesian 
culture, it is about as foreign to our own cultural sources as say Javanese or Siberian folk 
music; that as we live here generation after generation, the circumstances that shape us 
may fuse some of this Polynesian quality into our own ethos: but that the attempts that 
have been made to use it for the founding of a national music here have been based more 
on a wish to practice nineteenth-century theories on the subject than on any ability to fuse 
a Polynesian culture with our own: that the M ori tunes used in this way were not strictly 
M ori at all but strongly influenced by missionary hymns and other early influences: and 
that the M oris have shown themselves much more able and willing to absorb our culture 
than we to absorb theirs.
92
  
 
                                                
90
 Body 1999: 39. 
91
 Thomson 1999: 212. 
92
 Lilburn 1984: 21. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 102 
 
However, in recent times there is perceptible motion towards a more reflexive reorien-
tation (as Lilburn predicts), and New Zealand ?content? has grown to incorporate 
increasing portions of local and indigenous symbology and technology, particularly as 
embodied in Te Reo, M ori language, and Taonga P oro, traditional M ori instruments. 
Ultimately this reorientation can be attributed to a convergence and construction of 
common symbologies as well as a growing and increasingly sophisticated body of 
available technologies. 
Lilburn and Hill 
Contemporary (European) classical music trends in New Zealand are affectively and 
historically situated in reference to two quasi-iconic antecedents: Alfred Hill and Douglas 
Lilburn. Hill, despite being among the first to ostensibly use ?M ori music? as a basis for 
composition, has affectively been relegated to a historical footnote, while Lilburn, who 
deemphasized folk influences in general ? including M ori and indigenous influences 
? is credited as being the progenitor of an ?authentic? New Zealand Music.   
Thomson suggests a reason for the discrepancy when he notes:  
The generation of Pakeha pioneers who used M ori culture to weave it into a European 
texture, such as Alfred Hill, had not yet been succeeded by those who were to create 
impressive oral archives.
93
  
 
Lilburn?s historic prominence, on the other hand, was based upon an accurate reading of 
Pakeha New Zealand?s affective disposition and values and the production of a sustain-
able narrative: 
                                                
93
 Thomson 1991: 212. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 103 
 
M ori music was in a transitional state, westernized, served up to tourists, or used by both 
M ori and Pakeha popular entertainers. Lilburn could not see it as the basis for ?the 
founding of a national music?.?
94
 
 
Alfred Hill 
In the Oxford History of New Zealand Music, Thomson refers to Alfred Hill as ?the first 
fully professional New Zealand composer.?
95
 Hill?s roots and training were quintessen-
tially European. Born into a musical family that originated in Bristol, England, he and his 
family moved, first to Melbourne and then emigrated to New Zealand in the early 1870s, 
when Hill was about two years old. In his teens, Hill?s family sent him to Europe to study 
at conservatory in Leipzig. On his return from Europe, Hill engaged in a wide range of 
activities that advanced the New Zealand music. After scoring a success with Hinemoa 
(1896), a cantata based on a ?traditional M ori legend,? Hill relocated back to Australia 
where he was a founder of the Sydney Conservatorium.
96
 In the latter part of his career, 
Hill returned to New Zealand on odd occasions to visit family and execute com-
missions.
97
  
Hill was a prolific, if uninspired composer who wrote in a large variety of genre 
including romantic opera and orchestral music. He is remembered in New Zealand for 
incorporating M ori themes in his Western composition and during his lifetime he was 
considered a ?M ori music expert.? Hill?s interest in M ori music seems to have been 
                                                
94
 Ibid. 
95
 Thomson 1991: 217. 
96
 Shieff (1995: 62) notes that Hill has been called ?the grand old man of Australian music?. 
97
 Thomson 1991: 217. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 104 
 
motivated by opportunism. Shieff quotes Hill on his introduction to M ori music (by 
white Wellington journalist, E.D. Hoben who ?had lived among M ori all his life? and 
sang a tune to him), as saying:  
By Jove! Here?s something novel. If I can?t make a success any other way I might make 
it by this idea of developing M ori music.
98
  
 
According to Thomson, Hinemoa was, ?the first European work to set M ori melodies in 
a western harmonic context.?
99
 It won him high praise from all sections of the (colonial) 
community and established Hill?s reputation. Perhaps the most valued comment came 
from the M ori scholar Edward Tregear who wrote: ?I could not have believed that any 
European music could have so well interpreted the genius of M ori feeling.?
100
 Following 
on the success of Hinemoa, Hill produced a series of works that also drew on ?M ori? 
themes.  
Although Hill became widely acknowledged among Pakeha as an ?expert? on M ori 
music, his renown did not necessarily extend to M ori. In 1930, Hill was hired by 
                                                
98
 Shieff 1995: 64. 
99
 Thomson?s continuing characterization of Hinemoa?s diatonic thematic material as a ?Maori melody? is 
interesting. Pre-European Maori music is generally acknowledged to have been non-diatonic. Thomson?s 
suggestion that this is an ?authentic? Maori melody, even as he asserts the originality Hill?s setting of 
Hinemoa?s theme in a ?Western harmonic context? begs the question of the actual significance of Hill?s 
work. If the diatonic theme was ?authentic,? then a Western harmonic context is implicit in the theme itself. 
Hill himself suggests an ambiguous origin for the melody, ?The Maori air which runs through this work, 
was obtained many years ago from a white man, Mr. E.D. Hoban. Years later a half-caste Maori, Wi 
Duncan, asserted that it was a Raratongan melody. Others claimed that the Rev. Williams of Hawkes Bay 
wrote the words and a Maori friend the tune. Finally, Hari Hongi, a Government Interpreter and author of 
the well-known Maori Grammar, et cetera, verified Wi Duncan?s assertion that the air came from Rara-
tonga. It appears that a Chief who came from Raratonga in 1868 to visit the Maori Chief Tawhio, first 
brought the air to New Zealand. The Maoris quickly appropriated it and turned it into a Hymn.? Alfred Hill, 
Composer?s Note to Hinemoa: An Epic of New Zealand, vocal score. Melbourne 1935 quoted in Shieff 
1995: 64. 
100
 Thomson 1991: 218; see also Shieff 1995. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 105 
 
American snake oil salesman-become-filmmaker Alexander Markey to write music for 
Markey?s film, Hei Tiki. Limbrick says:  
[Hei Tiki is] a kind of colonialist relic, the leftover junk of an idiosyncratic entrepreneur 
whose ethnographic gaze created occasionally grotesque or exploitative scenes of M ori 
life and culture?. The plot utilizes an ethnographic documentary frame with 
voiceover?to narrate its narrative action, deploying the familiar colonial trope by which 
Markey, the civilized modern, narrates his discovery of the ?remnants of a vanishing race 
of noble men and women, the stalwart people of M oriland.?
101
 
 
In addition to scoring the musical accompaniment to the film, Hill was also involved in 
choreographing and setting the haka ?Ka Mate? to music (during a scene where the all-
M ori cast are shown preparing for battle). Hill was at pains to force the haka into an 
overly metric version that essentially quantized the rhythm of the traditional version (the 
chanting of the words ? ng  kupu ? is the actual rhythmic foundation for the 
performance) and effectively erased its subtlety. In an interview for a 1984 documentary 
on the making of Hei Tiki, Ben Biddle, the M ori who as a young man played the male 
lead, said: 
Alfred Hill made some mess over here because he is [supposed to be] ?a great M ori 
song composer??but he doesn?t speak a word of M ori. You see, this day we were down 
the beach at Omouri, Markey wanted the old M ori, the real old M ori ? and we had 
several of them there ? to do the haka ?Ka Mate, Ka Mate.? Well ?Ka Mate, Ka Mate? 
? there?s no beat in the old M ori song ? nothing, just war and vicious and all this sort 
of thing ? but Alfred Hill wants a beat.
102
 
 
Despite the superficiality of some of his attempts, Hill?s interest in M ori music was 
genuine. He (unsuccessfully) advocated for the construction of an institute for the study 
M ori music to be built in the Rotorua area, and over the years he composed several 
                                                
101
 Limbrick 2007: 248. 
102
 Steven 1984. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 106 
 
pieces that became parts of a repertoire common to both M ori and Pakeha cultural 
groups. 
Douglas Lilburn 
Douglas Lilburn was born in 1915 and spent his early years on an isolated farm station in 
the upper Turakina Valley of New Zealand?s North Island. His parents were farmers ? 
New Zealand gentry. The youngest of seven children, Lilburn describes a lonely early 
childhood amidst a lush physical environment:  
I just had this paradise to roam around in and there were some neighbourhood kids that I 
could play with. But there was a slight barrier there because they were the children of 
people who were working on the Station and always at a certain point they went back to 
the small houses and I went back to the big house.
103
  
 
As an adolescent Lilburn was sent to the South Island to attend Waitaki Boys High 
School, which Thomson describes as a ?bastion of high imperialism,? erected by Frank 
Milner who, according to An Encyclopedia of New Zealand 1966, ?thought of British 
history as the central act of the slowly developing drama of human emancipation all over 
the world and was convinced of Britain?s civilising mission.?
104
 Lilburn?s experience at 
Waitaki Boys was not a pleasant one ? he was regarded as ?an intellectual with specs 
and physically retarded?an unwelcome stranger from the north.?
105
 Despite being caned 
for ?using a piano out of hours,?
106
 Lilburn began composing music while there. He 
                                                
103
 http://www.douglaslilburn.com/jackBodyIV.html, 9/1/2007. 
104
 http://www.teara.govt.nz/1966/M/MilnerFrankCmg/MilnerFrankCmg/en, 9/1/2007. 
105
 Lilburn, personal correspondence with Thomson. Thomson 1991: 222. 
106
 Ibid. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 107 
 
eventually attended Canterbury University College in Christchurch, where he completed 
a Diploma of Journalism and also took classes in the Music Department. Lilburn went on 
to win a prize offered in 1935 by visiting British composer Percy Grainger for an orches-
tral piece that presented ?typical New Zealand cultural and emotional characteris-
tics?.?
107
 In 1937, Lilburn traveled to England to study with Vaughan Williams at the 
Royal College of Music in London. He returned to New Zealand three years later having 
sojourned with other expatriates ? ?anyone sharing my dichotomy?I was as baffled by 
myself as by London?[I] realized that I was an alien and that my salvation, if any, lay 
12,000 miles away.?
108
  
Keam traces national concern with a ?New Zealand musical style? to Douglas Lilburn, 
who had a very strong influence on music composition in New Zealand. In his talk, ?A 
Search for Tradition,? presented at the first Cambridge
109
 Summer School in 1946, 
Lilburn ?precipitated a widespread desire amongst those New Zealand composers who 
wished to find a way in which their music could be relevant to New Zealand society and 
its communities?.?
110
 Similarly, Rogers identifies this talk as a ?seminal development in 
the history of music? in New Zealand and quotes Lilburn as saying: 
?Something new has happened ? happened for the first time, and we?ve got together, 
not to admire what the big shots from overseas can do, but to see what we?re capable of 
doing for ourselves.? Here again I want to remind you that we are New Zealanders, that 
                                                
107
 Grainger quoted in Thomson 1991: 222. 
108
 Quoted in Thomson 1991: 226. 
109
 In the Waikato region of New Zealand?s North Island. 
110
 Keam 2006: 3. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 108 
 
our cultural problems have to be worked out in the totally new context of these islands we 
live in, a context that has an infinite potential richness we?ve hardly drawn on as yet.
111
  
 
The 1930s had seen the development of a strong nationalist movement in the arts in New 
Zealand. Led by visual artists, poets, and writers, this movement was characterized by an 
emphasis on and literal or realistic renderings of New Zealand landscape. Lilburn called 
for a similar movement among composers. Keam notes, ?The painters? response to the 
harsh New Zealand light and the appending of ?signatures of place? to such works appear 
matched by composers? responses to ?a sense of space? and the positioning of New 
Zealand landscape centre-stage,? and further that, ?Lilburn stressed the importance of the 
landscape in contributing to the shape of a unique national musical tradition.?
112
 
Lilburn?s notions of a ?national music? were strongly influenced by Ralph Vaughn 
Williams with whom he studied in England, but Lilburn?s direct influence on the small 
nascent community of composers in New Zealand was seminal. Keam says: 
 This idea was not entirely new ? both Percy Grainger and Ralph Vaughan Williams had 
quite obviously influenced Lilburn?s thinking along these lines ? but through his own 
efforts and passionate beliefs, combined with his presence in New Zealand, Lilburn had a 
far more direct and powerful effect on the country?s compositional attitudes.
113
  
 
Lilburn?s notions about New Zealand music content and the place and nature of Pacific 
soundscapes evolved over time. At the time of his seminal 1946 speech, Lilburn was 
immersed in classical composition seeking to discover a New Zealand imprint for his 
music and to develop a national music community ? a New Zealand school of 
                                                
111
 Quoted in Rogers 2000. 
112
 Keam 2006: 4 
113
 Ibid.: 3-4. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 109 
 
composition ? that was based on the traditional tools of the European orchestra. By the 
late 1950s, Lilburn formulated his sense of his New Zealand, Pacific identity by saying, 
?we come from Europe but we waken to a consciousness of being in this Pacific 
world?.?
114
 He expressed a new appreciation for Alfred Hill saying his music possessed 
?the freshness and clarity of a school of early New Zealand watercolour painters.? He 
spoke of M ori singing extolling ?the charm of its timbre and melodic inflections and the 
suppleness of its rhythm?.?
115
 As Thomson notes, these are all qualities that aren?t 
readily rendered with traditional instrumentation and transcription. By the early 1960s, 
Lilburn had abandoned traditional European composition and had moved entirely into 
electronic music. 
Lilburn had changed his tune, and in the process he set the stage for a new generation of 
New Zealand composers. In 1968, 22 years after his ?A Search for Tradition? lecture, 
Lilburn revisited some of the topics that he had addressed earlier in another lecture, ?A 
Search for Language.? Speaking of the earlier lecture, Lilburn says: 
It was a heartfelt sort of manifesto, arid it sprang from a very real musical isolation. But I 
was young, I had energy and belief and the good company of poets and painters if seldom 
of other composers. I had experienced London as a student, and I wanted to be part of the 
new context forming here since the thirties. I believed that music, too, might take a new 
direction here, provided our composers could begin to discover their own identity instead 
of following blindly, deafly rather, a pseudo-tradition transplanted from Victorian 
England.
116
  
 
                                                
114
 Quoted in Thomson 1991: 239. 
115
 Ibid. 
116
 Lilburn 1985: 7. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 110 
 
Lilburn used the new technology to more effectively and appropriately incorporate M ori 
and Pacific influences: 
I?ve found it exhilarating and liberating to work in this new electronic medium and 
explore unfamiliar regions of sound. Significantly, perhaps, I?ve been able to produce 
sound tracks for several plays based on M ori legends, making the textures from human 
voice, natural and electronic sources, and doubt whether I could have done this with any 
conviction using conventional European instruments with their weight of older 
associations. And for the past few years I?ve felt a greater possibility of making that 
synthesis I?ve talked about ? a closer fusion of experience and musical language.
117
  
 
Several of the new generation followed Lilburn?s path into electronic music. But the 
result was often idiosyncratic and fell short of Lilburn?s stated intention of producing a 
national music with a recognizable, shared language. Others ? like Gillian Whitehead ? 
may have been more influenced by Lilburn?s intent ? the functionality of his conversion 
and awareness of the need to incorporate the sounds and cultural experience of the Pacific 
into any music that would aspire to be ?New Zealand music.? The irony is that White-
head?s music doesn?t shy from integrating the ?weight of older associations? of the still 
more ancient M ori instruments with those of the European. 
Gillian Whitehead (1941? ) 
Gillian Whitehead has emerged as a major New Zealand composer and has come to 
national prominence, particularly for New Zealand themed compositions which include 
pieces like Outrageous Fortune, an opera set in the 19
th
 century Otago goldfields, and 
others which utilize M ori instruments (Taonga P oro), language (Te Reo) and stylistic 
elements in combination with European instruments and methods.  
                                                
117
 Lilburn 1985: 20. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 111 
 
Whitehead grew up in Whangarei in the north of New Zealand?s North Island. Both of 
her parents were music teachers, and she grew up immersed in the local expression of 
European classical music tradition. She studied composition in New Zealand (starting at 
Auckland University, then completing her undergraduate studies at Victoria University in 
Wellington) before traveling abroad for further study in Australia, England and Europe 
with composers like Peter Maxwell Davies. Whitehead lived overseas and made her 
career as both a composer and a teacher for many years before returning to New Zealand 
on a more permanent basis in the 1990s. 
Whitehead is descended from M ori (on her father?s side), but she was not ?raised 
M ori? and M ori heritage was not emphasized in her formative years, mirroring the 
experience of many ?mixed? New Zealanders. In 1994, Elizabeth Kerr (a Pakeha 
musicologist and former chair of Creative New Zealand, the national arts funding body) 
described Whitehead as being ?part-M ori? and as having ?begun to acknowledge this 
heritage from a M ori great-grandmother.?
118
 Kerr is at pains to distinguish between the 
European basis for Whitehead?s musical technique and its M ori ?spiritual? content:  
?She was brought up as a Pakeha, and [her composition] is not influenced by M ori 
music in either its traditional or contemporary forms.?
119
 
Whitehead?s sense of her ethnic (and national) heritage and consciousness of place of 
origin have increasingly come to inform her work. Whitehead speaks of becoming more 
conscious of an affinity for her ?M ori-ness? by being removed from it overseas:  
                                                
118
 Kerr 1994: 330. 
119
 Ibid. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 112 
 
I think it?s very important and it?s maybe something that for a very long time I had 
difficulty coming to terms with, in that I was brought up away from the traditions and yet 
I felt, particularly after I left the country, I missed that aspect of it and I felt that that was 
very much something I was drawing on; not just in use of titles but, in the pieces I think 
are my best pieces, like Manutaki or Tongues-Sword-Keys or this new orchestral piece. I 
feel it is something I just know. I can?t explain why. It just seems to be what I?m drawing 
on and somehow where I?m going.
120
  
 
Whitehead?s music certainly makes use of M ori musical technology (in the form of 
Taonga P oro), and her composition incorporates elements like improvisation, thema that 
use a small range (as found in traditional waiata), and Te Reo M ori as well as Chinese 
and other languages that reflect a broad view of New Zealand?s ethnic history and is 
inclusive in its construction of New Zealand ?cultural heritage.? I will return to Gillian 
Whitehead?s use of Taonga P oro in Chapter Four. 
Chapter Summary 
In this chapter, I have set out elements of the New Zealand landscape and habitat 
(situations), and how people inhabit that landscape and are disposed to it and each other 
(attitudes). The first part of the chapter deals with historical and social contexts, and the 
construction of New Zealand national identities with particular emphasis on interactions 
between Europeans and M ori and how these interactions have been dealt with in 
academic discourse. 
The second half of the chapter focuses on how M ori and European-descended New 
Zealanders, or ?Pakeha? have reflexively constructed each other while maintaining 
distinct perspectives and worldviews. This part of the chapter begins with?Taha M ori,? 
the M ori side, by examining some M ori performative traditions that reflect movement 
                                                
120
 Kerr 1989: 18. 
Chapter 2: Situations and Attitudes 113 
 
between more traditional (i.e., resembling pre-European) localized identities and identi-
fications, and pantribal, national ones. 
Before introducing ?Taha Pakeha,? the European side, the contemporary Taonga P oro 
movement to reconstruct M ori musical instruments, and revive and re-contextualize the 
playing techniques and narratives associated with them is introduced in a mediant 
position. I present this movement as a space where and both M ori and Pakeha discover, 
explore, and develop private and shared notions of their own taha M ori and taha Pakeha. 
In ?Taha Pakeha,? I explore performative traditions in New Zealand where New Zealand-
ers express their ?Europeanness.? This chapter explores transplanted performative tradi-
tions including church music, brass bands, and classical music, and their impacts on 
national institutions, particularly education. The chapter ends by depicting the evolution 
of ?New Zealand music? as it has evolved as a local expression of the European classical 
tradition. I suggest that this evolution culminates with a contemporary woman composer, 
Gillian Karawe Whitehead, who is part M ori and uses classical techniques and 
instrumentation in conjunction with M ori language and instruments in the form of ng  
taonga p oro to intertwine elements of European and M ori tradition in order to construct 
a ?new? national music. 
 
 
 
 
 
114 
 
Chapter 3 
Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 
 
Introduction to Chapters Three, Four and Five 
In Chapters Three, Four and Five, I explore a set of ethnographic case studies that include 
interviews and observation of performances. In these case studies, I examine three 
specific ?moments? in the production of New Zealand identities and the relationships 
between these identities: the maintenance of local ?tribal? and emergence of ?national? 
identities among M ori; the maintenance of global and emergence of (local) national 
identities among Pakeha/Europeans; and, similarly, the emergence of local ?multicul-
tural? and New Zealand national identities among these and other groups.  
The pace of these chapters accelerates and intensifies as each succeeding chapter 
examines an increasing number of physical sites and respondents, and the situatedness of 
the principal voices becomes less determinate. I move in Chapters Three through Five, 
from firmly situated M ori, to more unsettled (and sometimes ambivalent) Pakeha and 
M ori, through to a set of more recent immigrant and migrant groups, who are at 
different points along a path to ?belonging,? and whose voices provide a stretto-like 
intensification.  Chapter Three dwells primarily on one physical site, Ratana Pa, and in-
cludes the testimony of primary source Ruia Aperahama, who I take as an authoritative 
voice. Chapter Four, which revolves around the Taonga P oro revival movement of a 
musical practice as cultural object, relates the oral testimony of three principal voices. I 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 115 
 
examine the Taonga P oro movement across several physical sites, including a traditional 
M ori settlement and in European-oriented contexts, including jazz performance and 
European classical music scores and recordings. Chapter Five relates testimonies from 
eight voices whose ancestral or immediate origins range from Africa to the Pacific. I 
parse these diverse testimonies ? immigrants? narrative depictions of themselves ? in 
relation to their evolving situations and, particularly, in relation to a relatively monolithic 
set of New Zealand institutions. 
An important focus is the affective disposition of individuals from various generations, 
cultural orientations, and other situations. Closely bound with affect is the concept of 
?mana,? which, in the context of this dissertation, refers to the institutional mechanisms 
through which people assess and accrue value.
1
 Some of the questions I address are how 
people direct their attention ? whether inward or outward ? and how this manifests in 
their interpretation of musical performance; people?s understanding of ?tradition? and 
how they both use and (symbolically) construct it; how people understand and construct 
?boundary conditions? ? how people from different backgrounds may be included or 
excluded from cultural performance; how contemporary or ?new? circumstances are met 
within the rubric of ?traditional? cultural practice and performance; and conversely, how 
?new? performances seek to incorporate traditional praxis. Correlation between what 
                                                
1
 Mana is variously defined as prestige, social or cultural capital, power, influence, spirituality, respect. We 
may speak of institutional mana in terms of any combination of these attributes: the respect for, or esteem 
of the institution, its influence, its power to raise up individuals or to influence the course of events, et 
cetera. It is also conceivable under some circumstances to reflexively reverse these formulations so that 
?respect for? the institution (by an individual or group) might become respect of the institution for an 
individual. A central focus of this dissertation is how mana may be cultivated in reflexive interaction 
between cultures and institutions ? how the mana of one institution may be built or reinforced in relation 
to another. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 116 
 
people say in interviews and how these themes manifests in performance is a focus of my 
ethnographic work here. 
I am interested in performances that represent tangencies, intersections, and cross-cultural 
flows between variously situated groups, particularly where these performances are 
potentially generative of new traditions. I have focused on sites where one group 
?borrows? or appropriates elements or genres from another and adopts and adapts these 
elements for their own use. By way of example, ?M orization? of European forms may 
be seen in Ratana?s use of brass bands and the syncretic adaptation of Christian hymnody 
in identity performances during powhiri. Conversely, we find Europeanization of a M ori 
form in Pakeha artist Richard Nunn?s use of Taonga P oro. Taonga P oro may also be 
seen as a tool of indigenization whereby a European seeks to become tangata whenua or 
alienated M ori may seek to recover or reclaim traditional status and authenticity.  
Processes of M orization, particularly of things European, and Europeanization of things 
M ori ? and the dualist perspectives that they represent ? are to a large extent normal-
ized, if not institutionalized in New Zealand bicultural ideological, political, and (to an 
increasing degree) economic frameworks. On a deeper level, I am interested in under-
lying cultural institutions and the reflexive construction of mana M ori and mana Pakeha 
? how esteem or value (mana) in one cultural ?camp? may come to draw or rely on the 
other.  These processes ? interactions primarily between M ori and Pakeha ? are the 
focus for Chapters Three and Four. Chapter Five deals with ?everyone else? in processes 
of indigenization, westernization, and the performative construction of identities and the 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 117 
 
implications of these processes for creation and growth of an ?other? local cultural insti-
tution that I call ?mana Pasifika.? 
These three chapters draw on a combination of interviews and participant-observation 
fieldwork conducted at a variety of sites in New Zealand during 2005 and 2006. The 
major sites include Ratana Pa, a pantribal settlement that is a community conceived and 
built around notions of political, religious, and ethnic identity (Chapter Three); festivals, 
including the Parihaka International Peace Festival (Chapter Four) and the ASB
2
 Polyfest 
secondary school competition (Chapter Five), that celebrate local, national, transnational, 
and ethnic identities; and educational institutions like Whitireia Community Polytechnic 
that feature programs that play an institutional role in ?fixing? some notions of traditional 
and contemporary identity.  
Ratana Encounter 
The construction of contemporary M ori identities may be divided into three historical 
eras: pre-colonial, colonial, and post-colonial. In the pre-colonial era, prior to large-scale 
European colonization, M ori identity was based on familial and tribal (iwi) associations 
that were rooted in territorial associations. The colonial era spawned a new M ori 
?national? identity constructed in opposition to an analogous European colonial, Pakeha 
identity.  In the post-colonial era, factors like global trade, increased flows of information 
and people, and increasing urbanization and mobility among M ori have resulted in still 
more general notions of M ori identity, as boundaries between groups become less easily 
defined and sometimes more porous.  
                                                
2
 The principal sponsor of the festival is the Auckland Savings Bank. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 118 
 
These ?eras? lend themselves to historical, time-linear analysis because their emergence 
is indeed diachronic. But the associated identities persist. In the Ratana Movement in 
general and at Ratana?s annual Birthday Celebrations in particular, ongoing construction, 
reinforcement and evolution of synchronic M ori identities manifests in musical 
performance as generations of rural and urban M ori co-mingle with Pakeha. 
Ratana as a case study is particularly relevant because the Ratana movement is deeply 
embedded in New Zealand historical discourse, especially as regards construction of 
modern M ori identities (see Figure 1). The Ratana movement is a culmination and 
arguably one of the most successful of a series of pantribal movements that sought 
political empowerment for M ori, including Pai Marire, Kotahitanga and Kingitanga, but 
also because its founder, T.W. Ratana, chose music as a primary means to accomplish 
spiritual and political goals. And the Ratana movement intersects with virtually all of the 
major historical moments and significant trends in M ori music up until the present. 
 
Figure 1. The Ratana Birthday Celebration engages generations of urban and rural M ori in 
performances of identity and expressions of joy. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 119 
 
Ratana Background 
T.W. Ratana ? an Alternative Movement 
In 1918, Tahupotiki Wiremu Ratana received a vision ? a prophecy ? that instructed 
him that he was to become a spokesperson and an agent of M ori survival,
3
 and led him 
to found a democratic movement for M ori unification. Ratana?s movement used a 
variety of methods ? especially music ? to achieve political, ideological, and religious 
unity among M ori. Among Ratana?s political goals was recognition and implementation 
of the Treaty of Waitangi.  
The Ratana Movement addressed concerns about M ori survival and prominently fea-
tured music as a means to this end. Ratana?s movement differed from earlier, 19
th
 century 
attempts at unification that tended to retain traditional territorial connections. Raureti 
says:  
Unlike the preceding M ori movements, which were mainly of a local nature and 
restricted to certain districts, the Ratana movement knew no territorial or tribal bounds. 
Where the Te Whiti and Tohu movement and Hauhauism were confined largely to the 
Taranaki district and East Coast areas,
4
 and the King Movement (Kingitanga) to the 
Waikato, the Ratana Movement on the other hand had a New Zealand-wide influence and 
as such affected all the tribes in the country.
5
  
                                                
3
 ??I have come to you, the Maori people. I have investigated your behavior, and found that you have 
sinned also. You have sinned in that you have bowed to tohungaism and other M ori gods. However, 
despite these misdemeanours, I see that you have not forgotten the Lord Jehovah, the Father and Creator of 
Heaven and Earth. He has this day heard your call and made his choice.? ? a voice from the Spirit as T.W. 
Ratana is informed of his mission.? Newman 2006: 44. 
4
 These movements preceded and can be considered precursors to Ratana?s movement. Hauhauism was a 
name associated with the Pai Marire Church, the first indepenedent organized M ori church in New 
Zealand, founded during the 1860s (Clark 1975). Te Whiti and Tohu developed an early pantribal 
settlement at Parihaka Pa during the 1870s. Both of these movements sprang up in resistance to unchecked 
acquisition of M ori land by European colonists and were based on biblical visions and prophecies revealed 
to movement founders. 
5
 Raureti 1992: 151-2. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 120 
 
Raureti notes further that:  
Those who followed the movement to the extent that they were prepared to forego all, 
giving up their homes, families and tribal affiliation, and moving to live in Ratana, were 
those who within their own areas and tribes did not have deep and stable roots. The effect 
of Ratanaism was to create a detribalised unit, devoid of tribal affiliations. This was a 
strange and completely new departure for a people steeped in tribal tradition.
6
 
 
Ratana?s movement was inclusive of other groups ? the movement has traditionally 
opened itself to anyone who was willing to follow Ratana?s lead. Ratana, however, saw 
the survival of the M ori people as his first priority.
7
 Indeed, the followers of Ratana 
came to be known as ?Morehu,? a M ori term that means ?remnant? or ?survivor,? and 
that carries with it, especially in the context of the Ratana Movement, a biblical asso-
ciation and an identification with the Tribes of Israel. The Ratana Movement provided an 
alternative to the dichotomy between top-down/quasi-assimilationist and strictly 
traditional, fundamentalist approaches to M ori survival that were prevalent at the time. 
Detribalization and its concomitant centralization were accomplished in part by Ratana?s 
use of music. Ratana organized brass bands to draw attention to the movement, spread his 
doctrine, and to very deliberately supplant traditional sounds and spiritual vibrations as 
he rallied M ori to a new order that superseded the old ways. The repertoire they played 
and the instrumentation (and hence the sound) became standardized. However, even as 
Ratana Pa came to represent a central authority of sorts, Ratana established local brass 
bands distributed throughout the country. The establishment of local bands and churches 
preserved the traditional M ori notion of identification with a particular place. But the 
                                                
6
 Ibid. 
7
 See Newman 2006, King 2003, Raureti 1992, et cetera. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 121 
 
local bands, as expressions of the Ratana Movement, are still able to mass together in a 
way that promotes unity while preserving the variety that local identification represents. 
Raureti notes: 
Ratana always encouraged music to be incorporated in the [church] service, so much so 
that at central headquarters the Ratana band was formed and became widely known 
throughout the country. Smaller bands were formed in other districts. It is thus not 
difficult to visualise the impressive services that were conducted at the height of Ratana?s 
power, with the use of band music, the colourful procession of clergy and supporting 
sisters of the faith, the singing of the beautiful M ori hymns, and the essentially simple 
but inspiring form of service.
8
 
 
As I have noted in Chapter Two, M ori were well familiar with and attracted to brass 
music and Ratana drew for inspiration on British brass band culture as it has existed in 
New Zealand since the middle of the 19
th
 century. However, while individual Ratana Pa 
musicians have been known to study with members of the nearby Wanganui Garrison 
brass band and are even encouraged by members of the Ratana community to participate 
in Wanganui band?s activities, there is scant mention of Ratana (or other M ori) bands? 
participation in the competitions that are the primary focus of the European tradition in 
New Zealand.
9
 Indeed Ratana?s methods were designed to unify M ori and to fuse M ori 
and European cultures and technologies in a way that brought the most benefit to M ori 
without loss of their cultural identity. It is arguable that symbolically submitting and 
hence subordinating Ratana bands to European authority in competition would undermine 
the purpose of the Ratana bands.  
                                                
8
 Raureti 1992: 154. 
9
 See Newcomb 1963; Herbert 1991, 1997, 2000; Bythell 2000; et cetera. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 122 
 
Based on his reading of Christianity, Ratana?s methods, which included faith healing, as 
well as extensive use of music and visual (i.e., non-literate) symbology, were well suited 
for ordinary M ori, and in fact had common appeal for a general populace. Speaking of 
Ratana?s faith healing, Raureti notes: 
Healing by the laying on of hands, featuring prominently in the Scriptures, gave 
confirmation to M ori beliefs in these matters.? Ratana?s ability as a faith-healer 
therefore had both native antecedents and biblical precedent to draw on.
10
  
 
Above all, Ratana?s movement was, and continues to be, pervaded by a spirit of magnan-
imity and voluntarism ? his followers did so of their own volition and Ratana did not 
accept payment for his works.
11
  
Ratana undertook national tours of New Zealand in the early 1920s. During these tours 
his message proved to have enormous appeal to very large numbers of M ori and many 
Europeans, as well. In 1924 and 1925, he extended his scope internationally when he 
took a group of followers, including 24 young musicians, on world tours through Europe, 
Asia, and the United States.  
Ratana?s world tours were at least in part political, motivated by a desire to bring justice 
to M ori through appeals to the British monarchy and also by courting international 
public opinion. His methods consistently included music as a means to gain entry and to 
make an impact. Raureti describes ?a party of 40, including 16 elders and 24 young 
people comprising a concert party?who traveled to Britain in hopes of gaining an audi-
                                                
10
 Raureti 1992: 148. 
11
 Raureti (1992: 149) notes that Ratana not only didn?t accept money for his cures, but that he even 
returned money sent to him enclosed in letters. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 123 
 
ence with King George V in order to lay the grievances of the M ori people before him.? 
The audience with the King was refused, but Ratana?s concert party toured the British 
Isles to great acclaim. Ratana also toured through parts of Europe, including France and 
Switzerland, and Japan, but he was denied a hearing by the League of Nations.
12
  
Ratana?s themes were religious, political, and spiritual, and the symbology he employed 
spoke to these realms. His blend of M ori and European cultures and his manner of 
presentation were particularly effective. Like other ?modern? M ori, Ratana rejected 
some aspects of M oritanga that he deemed unhealthy or non-productive. The Reverend 
Piri Munro, an Anglican priest who traveled with Ratana on his first New Zealand tour, 
described Ratana?s relationship to what has been termed elsewhere ?prehistoric 
M oriism?:
13
  
I think Ratana is being used to free the native mind from the influence of ?M oriism? or 
?Tohungaism,? and his gift of healing is only given to impress the people. I never 
realized before how steeped our race is in ?M oriism.? It is often disheartening to see 
native boys and girls, after receiving a good education and being well placed in the 
world, suddenly go wrong and make a mess of the whole thing. Their failure must be 
attributed to the M ori mind, which some time or other takes charge of the psychological 
position and diverts the steps. We M ori clergy have failed to overcome the handicap of 
the M ori mind, but Ratana has been raised up by God to do so.
14
  
 
But Ratana?s rejections of the ?M ori mind? were not denials in that he never suggested 
that the ancient beliefs were not ?true,? but rather that they were unhealthy. So ?super-
stition? and belief in what might be termed ?black magic? (makutu), as practiced by 
                                                
12
 Raureti 1992: 155. 
13
 Newman 2006. 
14
 Bolitho 1921: 41-42. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 124 
 
?tohungas,?
15
 were discouraged, but the beliefs (and hence the believers) were not 
disparaged. These practices were to be put aside in favor of more productive practices, 
but were not dismissed out of hand.  
Ratana Political Influence  
The Ratana movement came to have huge influence in New Zealand politics. By 1943, all 
four Parliamentary seats set aside for M ori were occupied by members of the Ratana 
movement. Raureti reports that ?Ratana members actually held the ?balance of power? in 
the Parliament of 1946-49? when Labour and National Parties were evenly split.
16
 The 
four Ratana members allied with the Labour government, enabling that party to rule. The 
Ratana movement has maintained an alliance with Labour since that time. That allegiance 
has remained largely unchallenged until fairly recently when the new M ori Party has 
risen to vie for Ratana votes. 
Ratana Influence on Contemporary Music  
Just as African Americans have had a huge influence on music, sports, and entertainment 
in the United States, M ori have had a similar impact in New Zealand, particularly on its 
soundscape. Among the M ori musicians who rose to prominence, formed a pool of 
musicians that stocked the Showbands and recording studios, and, in the process, formed 
the core of New Zealand?s popular music industry, the bulk of their number came from a 
religious and cultural community ? the Ratana Church. 
                                                
15
 It should be noted that the term tohunga in contemporary usage usually refers to a person who is highly 
knowledgeable in some aspect of life, craft or art, and who is able to apply the principles of his art in a way 
that goes beyond the specific ? not unlike a Ph.D. A tohunga in Ratana?s usage is a pejorative reference 
from an earlier time, and is perhaps better translated as a ?witch doctor? or even (evil) ?socerer.? 
16
 Raureti 1992: 157. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 125 
 
For instance, M ori Showbands ? an acknowledged genre in New Zealand music ? 
were a major feature of New Zealand entertainment throughout the last half of the 20th 
century, and Ratana musicians in particular featured prominently in the backup bands of 
M ori singers and bandleaders like Billy T. James and Howard Morrison. These M ori 
artists crooned love songs that provided a national counterpart to the likes of Frank 
Sinatra and Dean Martin as they pioneered musical variety on New Zealand television. 
Ratana musicians also populated bands like the M ori Volcanics who mastered the Las 
Vegas style delivery that was popular (and lucrative) through the 1970s. Similarly 
bandleaders like electric guitarist Billy T.K. performed in rock and blues genres that 
complemented Jimi Hendrix. All of these combos and orchestras featured Ratana 
musicians. 
Movements in music have signaled and lent impetus to a convergence of M ori and 
European cultures in New Zealand. This was perhaps most clearly symbolized by the 
ascendance of ?Poi E,? a collaboration between pop musician Dalvanius Prime and 
lyricist and M ori language professor, Ngoi Pewhairangi, and performed by Dalvanius 
and a group comprised of unemployed slaughterhouse workers called the Patea M ori 
Club. ?Poi E? rose to number one on the New Zealand popular music charts for four 
weeks in 1984, the first all-M ori (or Pacific) language song to rise so high in the 
national esteem.  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 126 
 
Ratana Field Narratives  
Introduction ? a Note on Style 
The commentaries and field notes that follow in the next sections reflect several salient 
features of Maori situatedness at Ratana Pa: the physical layout of the Pa is reflective of 
communality, the architecture of the church buildings tells an inclusive story of Maori 
and Pakeha as co-equal (or not) immigrants, and there is a democratic undercurrent of 
empowerment and affective engagement among ordinary people whereby they are prone 
to spontaneous expressions of ownership and belonging. 
Commentaries and field notes are both written in the first person, and reflect and 
represent my personal experiences of the sites under study. Some of these reflections are 
more immediate than others. Notes culled from my field journals were written at the time 
of the events under consideration, either at the site or shortly after an encounter. Their 
text is indented, set in Italics, and introduced with the header ?Field Journal? followed by 
the date. Commentaries are reflective of my retrospective impressions and interpretations 
and were written in the time since the actual encounters. These commentaries are the 
?normal? style of this presentation and are not set off other than by the fact that they are 
written in first person (and past tense). The tenses in which both notes and commentaries 
are written generally reflect the distance in time between my experience and my writing. 
First Impressions 
I initially became interested in the Ratana movement and its music from news items ? 
video and interview segments from the annual Birthday Celebrations for T.W. Ratana at 
Ratana Pa broadcast on television. Indeed, in its yearly iteration the spectacle of the 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 127 
 
celebration and its visual splendor seems to invite affective engagement by New Zealand 
general audiences. The welcoming ceremony for hordes of visiting politicians and highly 
placed persons ? Pakeha and M ori both ? being escorted by Ratana?s colorful brass 
bands makes for great sight and sound bites, and is picked up every summer by New 
Zealand television stations hungry for sexy footage ? the swirling colors and sounds that 
the Birthday Celebration provides. Brief glimpses of this colorful mix of European and 
M ori expressive culture and a vast array of politicians and important personages piqued 
my curiosity and inspired me learn more in an effort to understand just how this all went 
together. 
Despite the apparent visibility of the Ratana movement, gaining deeper insight into the 
community proved difficult ? I was aware that the Ratana movement?s influence on 
New Zealand music and culture was important, but my early attempts at getting access to 
the community in order to learn more were unsuccessful. I found that the musicians I 
knew who had a Ratana connection were somewhat taciturn and quietly resisted inquiries 
about the church and the music. It wasn?t clear to me why the Ratana movement was so 
opaque to me ? whether the reluctance of potential informants was out of an impulse to 
?protect? the church or perhaps because the people I approached were ?lapsed? or 
because the manner of my approach was in some way inappropriate or some other reason. 
My sense was that people weren?t exactly unreceptive, but that perhaps the time or the 
place wasn?t right. It seemed that Ratana folk were somehow comfortable with 
maintaining the veil between themselves and the outside ? a veil that seemed also to 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 128 
 
coincide with one that exists between the world of M ori at large and the rest of New 
Zealand. 
The most visible exception to this reticence occurs when the Ratana community shows 
itself annually, on the days surrounding T.W. Ratana?s January 25 birthday, two weeks 
before Waitangi Day, the February 6 ?national birthday? that celebrates the signing of the 
Treaty of Waitangi. At that time, thousands of Ratana?s followers, along with politicos 
and other persons of importance, converge on the Pa. Speeches are made and excerpts are 
broadcast on national television. On this occasion, politicians take the opportunity to be 
seen and to express their views before both M ori and general audiences. 
Images of this singular event fed my resolve to attend and document the convergence of 
so many disparate groups against Ratana?s musical backdrop. I decided to drive to 
Ratana, cold ? without a local contact or a prior arrangement ? in hopes of ascertaining 
information that might lead to an invitation and permission to document the festivities in 
2006. 
First Trip to Ratana ? February 2005 
The Pa lies about 30 km south of the town of Wanganui in the central portion of New 
Zealand?s North Island (Te Ika o Maui) and is about 5 km west of Route 2, one of two 
main north-south highways, and is not visible from the main road. To get there, you drive 
along a winding road, past an isolated radio broadcast tower, and through a series of 
farmers? paddocks. The little settlement of Ratana Pa emerges in front (see Figure 2).  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 129 
 
 
Figure 2. The Tempera (Temple), the central feature at Ratana Pa. 
 
When I first visited Ratana Pa, a week after the Birthday Celebration
17
 in 2005, the 
excitement and commotion of the celebration had died away, and the Pa had returned to 
its normal, sleepy status. The central village, where residential housing is concentrated, 
occupies an area the equivalent of about three New York City blocks. (For most of the 
year, the village is home to only about thirty or forty families.) 
Field Journal, February 2, 2005 ? Ratana Pa 
The central feature of the village is the Ratana Tempera (temple), which faces a large 
open space across the main street. This space serves as a campground during major 
events
18
 Most of the homes are small- to medium-sized state houses that line the street in 
both directions going away from the Tempera. 
On the main cross street, which runs perpendicular to the street where the Tempera 
stands, there are a few outbuildings including the Archives, a concrete block public toilet 
and a small building called the Whare M ori.
19
 At the far end of the street there is 
another open space, not quite as large as the space across from the church, and which is 
                                                
17
 The celebration usually goes on for three days and culminates on Ratana?s birthday, January 25.  
18
 In addition to the Birthday Celebration, there are also major annual gatherings in April and November. 
These gatherings are less open to outsiders. 
19
 I later learned that this building once housed a jail. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 130 
 
bordered by a stage, a residential-style bungalow with an awning, and a long, low 
building that houses the church offices.
20
  
There are several features of the Ratana buildings that stand out. The Tempera is 
resplendent in flower gardens laid out to depict the symbology of the church and 
surrounded by a fence with signs on the outer gate indicating that photographs are not to 
be taken within the grounds. The church building is colorful, ornate and resplendent with 
symbols. Much of the symbology is not obvious. Some images, like crescent moons and 
crosses and (apparently) Greek references to ?Arepa? and ?Omeka? are vaguely 
familiar. I have the sense that I can almost make them out, but not quite. 
Some of the symbols are quite clear though, even to an outsider. Along the roofline of the 
office building, above the entrances, there are models of nine named vessels ? seven 
M ori canoes (waka) ? Aotea, Tainui, Kurahaupo, Tokomaru, Takitimu, Te Arawa, and 
Mataatua, and two European sailing ships. The large seagoing canoes represent the 
traditional M ori confederations of iwi (tribes) that migrated together on separate 
voyages from the storied Hawaiiki, the ancient origin of M ori people. But the waka 
depicted at Ratana include two more ? Abel Tasman?s vessel, the Heemskerk, and the 
Endeavour, Captain Cook?s (see Figure 3). 
 
 
Figure 3. Te Manuao Ratana administrative offices. Note the nine waka (canoes) on top of the awning 
listing their names. Two are European, the Heemskerk and the Endeavour, and seven are M ori. 
 
On one level, this inclusion of major, early European voyages with the earlier M ori mi-
grations to New Zealand establishes a symbolic equity between M ori and Europeans 
(the clich?, ?we are all immigrants? springs to mind). But it also establishes a M ori 
framework for the narrative ? it tells a likely story from a M ori perspective and (by its 
                                                
20
 I later learned that this area constituted the paepae ? the courtyard of a marae where people assemble 
for formal rituals. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 131 
 
institutional setting and architectural permanence) asserts its legitimacy. This symbolic 
leveling, as it were, also plays out in performance during the annual birthday festivities. 
The symbols, the building, the layout of the village made me curious, but my initial im-
pression was more mystery than dawning understanding. It was not obvious to me why 
people are so drawn to Ratana Pa. The day I visited the Pa seemed to be just a sparsely 
populated and isolated village with a few oddities spread about ? more of a curiosity 
than an affective wellspring: the only businesses in the village were a small dairy and a 
fish and chips shop where a few children played on the day I visited. The only other signs 
of life were faint strains of an unseen group playing contemporary reggae and R&B tunes 
from a closed-in area on an outdoor stage on the paepae. But a chance encounter on that 
quiet day gave me a hint as to the depth and kind of affective involvement ? a sense of 
belonging and ownership ? that binds the Ratana community: 
Field Journal, continued 
As I strolled around the area, taking photographs (where permissible ? a sign on the 
temple gate announces photography is interdicted within the Tempera grounds), a 
woman emerged from the fish and chips shop and approached me, newsprint wrapped 
chips in hand. She inquired as to what brought me to Ratana and I told her that I was 
interested in the movement and the music. She told me that she had grown up in the area, 
but had moved away to Europe and had just returned for a visit during the Birthday 
Celebration. She was quite voluble and volunteered a condensed history of Ratana and 
her own connections to the place. What came through in her korero (conversation or 
commentary) was her pride of place and ongoing sense of attachment, ownership, and 
belonging, despite having spent 18 years away. Her sense of cultural confidence was also 
evident in her initial approach ? she wasn?t shy and even though she didn?t have an 
?official? position, she was comfortable acting as a spokesperson. 
 
I realized that the symbols of inclusion ? the nine waka ? and of coming together under 
a M ori kaupapa that I had seen in the architecture of the Pa were also embodied in the 
welcome ceremony ? the powhiri ? that takes place during the Birthday Celebration at 
Ratana annually. I resolved to return and document the event firsthand. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 132 
 
Ruia Aperahama 
In early 2006, I began to seek access to the Ratana Birthday Celebrations in earnest. I had 
discovered a series of articles published and reprinted online by Auckland journalist 
Keith Newman. I emailed Newman and he responded with the suggestion that I contact 
Hareruia ?Ruia? Aperahama. Aperahama is something of a luminary in the burgeoning 
worlds of M ori language and music ? his midday M ori language radio program, Piri-
wiritua,
21
 is broadcast five days a week on Waatea 6:30 am in Auckland. He is an award-
winning musician,
22
 well known as a bandleader and as a sideman for a host of top New 
Zealand groups. He is highly placed in the Ratana movement and is often sought by the 
media for interviews and comment on music, M ori language, and issues related to the 
Ratana movement. I contacted Aperahama by phone and he agreed to come by my house 
to speak with me about going to Ratana Pa for the Birthday Celebrations and also to be 
interviewed for my research. 
Interviewing Ruia Aperahama 
The interview material I have included in this section is presented as a series of carefully 
chosen quotes with relatively minimal analysis. As I indicated in Chapter Two, M ori 
historical and cultural embededness is fundamentally oral ? its ?fixed record,? as it 
were, is carried by special individuals who embody cultural content and this content is 
accessed and read in performance. Ruia Aperahama is such an individual and his 
interviews with me were such a performance. Indeed his talks with me ? like the 
                                                
21
 Piriwiritua is a Ratana expression, which translates literally as ?a drill that punches through,? and 
connotes survival and triumph over adversity. 
22
 Ruia?s album, ?Hawaiki,? won the 2004 New Zealand Music Award for ?Best M ori Album.? 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 133 
 
traditional singing of whakapapa ? generally took the form of a recital or recitative. His 
ability to expose and develop historical threads is phenomenal. In order to extract and 
extrapolate elements of general M ori situatedness, I have chosen to present Apera-
hama?s narrative as a transcription interspersed with my analysis, which serves primarily 
as a meta-narrative. My analysis seeks to expose some salient features of M ori inter-
actions including intra- and inter-tribal and M ori-European articulations as well as 
dispositional and discursive articulations between old and new, traditional and modern, 
rural and urban and generational perspectives. 
At our first interview we concentrated on Aperahama?s background and his experience 
growing up in the Ratana Church and with Ratana music. The second interview focused 
on Bob Marley?s influence on M ori and the reasons, processes ? including translation 
and transformation of lyrics, rhythms and music ? and experiences that Aperahama and 
his twin brother, Ranea had when making their record, ?The Waiata of Bob Marley,? a 
M ori-language rendition of some of Marley?s songs. I interviewed Aperahama in my 
living room in the Auckland suburb of Mt. Albert on two occasions. Aperahama stopped 
by on his way home after his radio broadcast, which airs from noon until 3 pm on week-
days. I subsequently had several telephone conversations with Aperahama for clarifica-
tions and help with transcribing and translating various passages in M ori.  
In the sections that follow, I frame a series of interview excerpts. I take Ruia 
Aperahama?s as an authoritative voice, and I present his story in the third person as a set 
of ?facts.? So Aperahama serves as the narrator of a story within a story. And I take his 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 134 
 
testimony as an index both into M ori musical situatedness in general, and to my textual 
rendering of the performances I witnessed at Ratana Pa. 
First Interview 
23
  
Aperahama began by telling me about his background. He and his brother, Ranea, are the 
youngest of nine siblings and were groomed from childhood to take leadership positions 
in the Ratana church. His parents were part of a M ori migration to Ratana that began in 
the 1930s and 40s. His mother is of Ngati Tuwharetoa, a tribe located on the North 
Island?s central plateau in the Lake Taupo area, and his father?s family is of Ngati Kuri, 
from Te Aupori in the far north. Aperahama?s father served as National Secretary for the 
Ratana Church for forty years, and his mother was on the National Executive or Komiti 
Hei Matua (literally ?parenting? or ?steering committee?) and was also a member of the 
Ratana Pa National Choir. His early education (primary and intermediate school) was at 
Ratana. He subsequently attended secondary school at Wanganui High School, about 20 
miles north of Ratana Pa and then university at Wellington Teachers College (now the 
Faculty of Education of Victoria University of Wellington). 
Music at Ratana 
Music ? singing in church choirs and playing in church bands ? is a widespread activ-
ity in the Ratana community
24
 and it was a large part of life for Aperahama and his 
family:  
                                                
23
 All quotes Hareruia Aperahama interviewed by H. Anderson, January 20, 2006 unless otherwise 
indicated. 
24
 Participation in musical activities at Ratana Pa is not compulsory, but it is ?institutionalized? in the sense 
that participation is the norm and that opportunities to learn and perform are ubiquitous in the community. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 135 
 
All my brothers and sisters, we?re all musically inclined one way or another. Music is 
very strongly valued in our family and in our community. It would be fair to say [that 
music is] valued?amongst M ori communities in particular. ?[Music] touches 
on?[the] supernatural, religious, and the political. 
 
Music is at the core of life at Ratana and musicians and music are seminal to the 
construction of heritage and tradition in the community. Stories about Ratana?s use of 
music to spread his doctrine, to recruit followers, to combat unhealthy practices, et cetera, 
are all part of a lore that defines the community?s culture and connects people to its past. 
Aperahama began playing music at age seven, and he and his brother, Ranea, were taught 
music by Te Rauna Tairoa who was the national conductor of the combined Ratana brass 
bands.
25
 Aperahama spoke of Tairoa?s participation in the Ratana world tours of 1924-25:  
His generation of the 1920s, they were part of the Ratana world tour band?. Twelve 
young females and twelve young males who were all trained to be adept and capable of 
playing at least three instruments. That was the prerequisite ? they had to be multi-
instrumentalists as well as having other skills, particularly with regards to hospitality, 
looking after people. They had to be able to move quickly, look after themselves, feed, 
cook for themselves, et cetera. 
 
In this telling, Aperahama posits musical competence as a core value because Ratana 
conceived of music as a means to communicate his spiritual message, as a binding agent 
for M ori solidarity and unification, a tool to bridge between cultures and a way to draw 
attention to M ori grievances of the Treaty of Waitangi.
26
 The purpose of the world tours 
was to further these ends and themes of self-reliance, mobility, and traditional M ori 
hospitality, coupled with musical ability, and were all geared toward efficacious perform-
ance on a global stage in order to promote the survivability of M ori in the modern 
                                                
25
 There are seven brass bands that represent Ratana communities in different parts New Zealand. 
26
 In this regard Ratana was adding his efforts to similar attempts by M ori king movement leaders 
Tawhaio (1884) and Kingi Rata (1914). See King 2003. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 136 
 
world. However, Ratana music is not seen as a means to erase the past, but rather a way 
to selectively bring elements of modern and ancient ways together.  
Old and new ways are presented and performed together on a formal ?stage? at Ratana 
Pa.
27
 Aperahama said that, although Western-style brass bands are a major component of 
Ratana music and Ratana musicians have been influenced by various genres of Western 
music, ?Ratana Pa also celebrates a strong traditional element?in particular the old 
singing style.? Describing traditional singing at the Pa, he said:  
The marae or the courtyard [paepae] where a lot of our rituals take place, is one of the 
last bastions where you?ll hear the old traditional songs or pre-European singing style.? 
The old singing style is called the ngao [soft-palate] and only old people who are over 
ninety still remember that singing style.The ngao is the old traditional singing style of 
half singing through your nose. So open singing style, western singing style which we 
also learned, [is a product of] the Western impact ? America, England, et cetera, In the 
Western singing style you?re taught to sing from your diaphragm up.?  
The ngao is just slightly lifting the tongue up so that it touches the back of the roof [of the 
mouth] where the palate is. ?So you get almost half [of the sound] coming through the 
nose? Apparently the old singing style was to resonate in the cranium, in the skull, in 
the head. It?s kind of similar to?the Eastern countries ? through Asia ? and Buddhism 
through India. They?ve got similar singing styles as well. Apparently for the old singing 
style, that was a technique for meditation. That kind of [singing] survived?among our 
people. But Christianity had a huge impact on our traditional genre. And [as in] Christian 
trends throughout the world, indigenous music was seen or perceived as inferior and 
demonic, satanic. So that has affected our people ? [but it is still found] in small pockets 
throughout the country, particularly in our rituals of funerals.
28
 That?s kind of the last 
bastion of where you?ll hear that old singing style. 
 
Aperahama posits a historical non-Western connection for M ori traditional singing. 
Indeed it is the construction of the Ratana movement and Ratana Pa as a place where 
diverse influences ? ancient and modern, Western and non-Western ? come together 
                                                
27
 See the description of welcoming ceremonies at Ratana Pa below. 
28
 The word for funeral, tangi, also means to cry out, to weep or to wail. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 137 
 
that is most striking. He went on to discuss contemporary M ori usages of the Western 
?open style? as well as other global examples of the ngao style: 
Most kapa haka?performing groups and M ori music groups today ? most sing in 
the?Western open style. But the old traditional singing style called the ngao, apparently 
derives from throughout Polynesia and can be traced back through to Asia, through our 
earlier history. 
 
Aperahama notes that, ?traditionally, M ori sang in minors most of the time [similar to] a 
lot of the Eastern modes and chords. But definitely sung in minor.? He suggested that the 
M ori rhythmic sense as performed in chants and incantations is related to both nature 
and also language. He translated this concept into Western terms: 
If I was to [express it] so that Western people might understand it, M ori sang in irregular 
time signature formats.? They sang in six/eight or sometimes a pattern which was very 
irregular ? five/four, six/eight, seven/four et cetera. So you got irregular or polyrhythms. 
[They also imitated] insect sounds, bird sounds. And in particular, when the missionaries 
first came here, they heard the old traditional singing style in a lot of our?what they 
termed as ?incantations? or ?chants.? 
 
Aperahama?s depiction of M ori singing as ?irregular? and in need of some translation or 
explication for Western ears is an indication of his conscious sense of a gap between 
M ori and Western sensibility. The difference in perception can be traced to the central 
importance of M ori language and orature in M ori music and culture in general.  
Traditional Elements in New M ori Music 
In order to illustrate some of the influences of M ori traditional forms and language on 
contemporary music, Aperahama sang an extremely rapid example of a generic rhythmic 
formula for a karakia (substituting syllables for words) (see Figure 4). His delivery is 
very impressive for the combination of a very fast tempo and clarity enunciation, despite 
the frantic pace:  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 138 
 
 
Figure 4. Transcription of the rhythmic formula for a karakia. 
The rhythmic foundation of this example is typical of the traditional delivery of karakia. 
The impact of ancient formulaic forms like karakia is aural and visceral ? the rhythm 
and tempo, the sound and the manner of delivery are the principal features. These incan-
tatory forms use archaic language that doesn?t submit to subliteral translation, but rather 
are understood as functional units that accomplish a given, spiritual purpose in specific 
ritual contexts.
29
  
The rendering of this example into Western music notation is inadequate because it 
quantizes rhythmic nuances that are embedded in M ori language and the gestures that 
the adept speaker, the master of whaikorero executes in performance (see Figure 5). 
However it does capture something of the trenchant delivery (see tenutos on the first 
beats of subsequent measures) and stretto-like intensification accomplished by truncating 
measures to produce subtractive rhythm cells.
30
 The adept speaker embodies incantations 
in performance and they are contextually recognized and understood by an audience that 
shares the cultural repertoire.  
                                                
29
 There are a huge variety of such contexts, but many karakia involve acknowledging or inviting the 
presence of tipuna (ancestral spirits), and just as importantly, letting them know when it is time to begone. 
30
 See Messiaen 1956. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 139 
 
 
Figure 5. Whaikorero utilizes a repertoire of stylized movements and gestures. 
 
After singing the rhythm of the karakia, Aperahama described the style:  
It?s very polyrhythmic.
31
 And because of the language, [new M ori music has a] unique 
kind of feel to it. I?m just explaining that because those types of components or attributes 
are now coming through the revival of new M ori music today, [in] combination [with] 
Western music. 
 
So the influence of M ori language on new M ori music is based on rhythm and feeling 
as well as on literal linguistic content. The influence of M ori language is profound, but 
may easily be glossed over or minimized when viewed from a Western perspective 
because a rational-metric analysis does not adequately account for the subtleties of M ori 
language and the social and cultural importance of embodied performance in M ori 
music. I will return to the topic of symbolic and cultural repertoires in Chapter Six. 
                                                
31
 The sense of the term ?polyrhythmic? in this context is as much related to changing meter as it is to 
rhythmic overlays (three against four, et cetera). The main point is that speech and delivery trump meter as 
underlying factors in the production of the ?feel? of the music. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 140 
 
Historically, M ori have readily adapted Western forms to suit their cultural and esthetic 
needs. In the next section I discuss M ori blending European music and technologies 
with their own, particularly in the context of the Ratana movement. 
M ori Reception of European Music: Imitation and Innovation 
Aperahama talked about how M ori incorporated and adapted Western technologies of 
writing and music, and ?M orized? them: 
M ori were introduced to Christianity in 1814 through the Christian Mission Society. 
They became very adept at reading and writing in their own language.? [They] saw the 
value in technology. Like a lot of technologies [M ori] took, they imitated and then they 
innovated. The same thing has happened in the history of M ori music, imitation 
happened, then innovation.? [So] when Christian music was introduced, a lot of our 
people, when they first heard chords, it was very unusual for them. [The] melodies [were] 
very unusual, but in time they grasped it, became very adept at it [see Figure 6 for music 
transcription]. 
Classical music was a very strong interest in the 1820s. [With the introduction of the] 
harpsichord, a lot of old traditional instruments were [eventually] given up [and replaced 
by] the piano.? Families like the T hiwi and many others around the country, 
particularly in the north, became very great imitators. During that early period, [by] 
imitating, they learned chord structures. Whalers in particular, during the 1820?s, 
[brought] the Irish influence, and the Welsh influence and the Scottish influence [with 
them] on the whaling ships. When some of our earlier ancestors of the north became 
whalers as well during that early contact period, they were introduced to a lot of the Irish 
jigs and the whaling songs ? shanties, sea shanties. So our people started to imitate. A 
song in the north ? which is still sung today ? is now called a ?traditional? song, but 
it?s from that influence of the sea shanties and it goes: 
He k aka marangaranga 
Kotahi te manu i tau 
Tau atu ki te t huna 
Tau atu tau atu e 
 
Godwits bobbing (on the water),  
The [first] bird alighted,  
[Then all the rest] settled there on the 
sandbar,  
They settled there, settled there.
32
 
 
And so they heard these sea shanties and started putting their own words in?and then 
that evolved. So imitation and innovation is a strong theme. 
 
                                                
32
 My translation. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 141 
 
 
Figure 6. Transcription of ?He Kuaka,? still sung today, demonstrates the influence of European songs 
sung on whaling ships in the 19
th
 century. 
 
In contrast to the previous example of a karakia, the M ori lyrics in this ditty are entirely 
subsumed in Western melody and metric rhythm. The adaptation of the lyrics shows a 
high degree of flexibility and fluidity in the rendition of M ori lyrics. This is particularly 
evident in the stretching of syllables (ko-o-tahi, k -a-a-ka, et cetera) and the lingual 
agility required of the singers. 
These words appear at the end of a tauparapara (a traditional formula used at the 
beginning of a welcoming speech or ?mihi?) with ancient roots that is associated with Te 
Aupouri,
33
 a tribe in the far north of New Zealand?s North Island, and is said to refer to 
the landing there of the waka Kurahaupo and the first M ori settlement in the area by that 
tribe. The song?s imagery describes the landing of the first bird (kotahi manu te tau) and 
how others settled as a result. In modern times, the kuaka and this tauparapara have come 
to stand for the unity of five northern tribes in their pursuit of resolution of Muriwhenua 
(fisheries) claim to the Waitangi Tribunal.
34
 Typically a representative group would sing 
                                                
33
 http://www.teaupouri.iwi.nz/AboutUs/champions/tumatahina.htm, 3/2/2008. 
34
 ?This northern tauparapara (welcoming call) invokes the image of the kuaka (godwit), a migratory bird 
whose visits to other lands, and regular return to the north signifies the importance of food resources in 
providing hospitality to visitors. The kuaka has been adopted as a symbol of the unity of the five tribes 
joined in the Muriwhenua claim. ?When one comes (to the sand bank), all come.?? http://www.waitangi-
 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 142 
 
this waiata in support of a speaker following his delivery of the complete tauparara or 
some other relevant speech. By providing a standardized framework for the singing of the 
waiata, the Western melody and its strict meter add to group cohesion during the 
recitation of the words and hence reinforce the supportive function of the waiata. 
Historically the intercultural influences between M ori and Europeans have not been 
reflexively balanced (or appreciated). Aperahama spoke about the reaction of European 
missionaries to traditional (i.e., pre-European) M ori music in early encounters: 
The traditional [use] for music was healing?with a lot of karakia or chants which are 
very rhythmical and mesmerizing. The early missionaries ? because they weren?t used 
to that sound ? they described it as a complex way of talking. They found that the 
traditional M ori singing mode and style was monotonous and inferior. 
 
The disaffection of Europeans, particularly missionaries, for M ori singing is likely 
rooted in differences in the ways the groups used music and what they hoped to achieve 
with it. Distinguishing between the distance past and current practice, Aperahama 
discussed some of the roles of M ori chants in the context of the marae (where rituals like 
the Powhiri still take place): 
In the traditional world, music was used to communicate with the supernatural.? On the 
marae ? the courtyard where what we would now term today as s?ance?used to take 
place?. [Today] through chants and rituals you encounter that experience on the marae 
when two people meet. The main speakers go into a realm ? they go into a type of 
meditation or?hypnosis type level. And when they chant their chants, they reach a 
certain level and the old singing style puts them in that realm. While in that realm, they 
would be open to different elements ? whether warnings or healings.? All those things 
would be allowed to flow through. It was very tapu ? a very restricted activity, that 
particular part. Mainly tohungas or priests or those who were holders of knowledge were 
[the] only [ones] allowed to be involved in that. 
 
                                                                                                                                            
tribunal.govt.nz/reports/viewchapter.asp?reportID=337EEC7B-555A-47A5-910E-
B12796A26C01&chapter=6, 3/2/2008. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 143 
 
Contemporary circumstances have changed, but music retains a strong community func-
tion for M ori: 
The power of music was also [as] the glue of the community. Because the M ori 
traditional form of singing was?(in terms of western music) very simple?. The whole 
community [was] able to engage in music daily. Grandmothers and mothers sang to their 
grandchildren, when [they] were carrying them, singing them songs of destiny, their 
identity et cetera.
35
 There were all types of genres for different occasions with traditional 
songs. But music was used first thing in the morning to call ? to gather the people. 
Because everyone was familiar with a lot of the tribal songs, when a song started 
everybody all joined. And because everyone was joined and brought into that one song, a 
whole community was united for a moment. So music, in M ori traditional society, and 
still today in contemporary [society], music is very much a glue for bringing communities 
together. 
 
Traditional understandings of music and community formed the basis for M ori attraction 
to various forms of European music. Most of the community functions of music persist in 
contemporary Maori communities.  
Maori Brass Bands and Ratana 
The history of M ori brass bands has largely gone undocumented in New Zealand, but 
M ori adapted European brass band music early in the colonial era. Aperahama talked 
about how and why M ori were attracted to it:  
During the 1860s in particular, M ori took a great liking to brass and brass bands. 
Particularly the colonial history in this country ? the white settlers or Pakeha, they came 
here, they also brought their music and their culture. Their music was strongly classical 
and [incorporated] brass bands. With the colonial history, brass bands were a very strong 
symbol of their identity.  
M ori saw [brass band] music and?believed that [the] sound of music was the voices of 
the Gods. So if you were able to manipulate sound and manipulate voices, you were able 
to communicate in contact with the spirit world. Music was a strong vehicle for M ori to 
achieve that ? in the traditional setting and also in the contemporary setting. 
 
                                                
35
 This is the genre known as oriori. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 144 
 
Aperahama went on to talk about the genesis of brass band traditions at Ratana and other 
M ori communities: 
With contemporary [communities] and particularly with Ratana, you know as I touched 
on earlier about the colonial history and in particular, brass band culture which was 
introduced in New Zealand in the 1860?s. Parihaka and Taranaki, they follow that 
tradition, and they started pipe bands. Through Te Arawa, they started brass bands. [In] 
Waikato they started a brass band called Taniwharau for the King movement. Around 
through the East Coast and in particular Papawai and Wairarapa, another movement 
there, in Papawai a brass band was started there. So Ratana isn?t the only place in M ori 
history where brass bands have been highly valued. 
 
For M ori in general and Ratana in particular, brass bands are a conscious adaptation of 
Western music and other technologies in order to actively resist colonization and to pro-
tect language and culture: 
Western technology was a tool that M ori admired and sought after highly, but they also 
realized that technology was a two-prong type situation where the technology was also a 
tool?of removing culture, language, identity. So the only way they saw to retain 
language and culture was to be open to [technology], accept the technology, imitate it, 
then innovate it?and send it back. By innovating and sending it back, that was their way 
of protecting language and culture. 
 
M ori people also saw mastery of technology (and music) as a potential way to demon-
strate to Europeans that they should be accepted as equals: 
M ori learnt very quickly to do that and also to become acceptable?[in] Western, white 
society.? If they could become adept in that music or in that technology, they could 
possibly be seen or accepted as equals. 
 
Music played a role in the conscious process of M ori choosing which elements of the 
their culture they wanted to retain or discard: 
[They] were trying to sift through [in order to] see culturally for themselves, analyzing 
for themselves, what was appropriate ? what to keep and what to discard. They needed 
to go through that process like anyone else ? self-analysis. When they went through that 
period of deciding?what to retain, what to take on from the west or what to keep cul-
turally internal. What to give away, what to compromise with, or what was considered 
not valuable.  
 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 145 
 
At Ratana, music was used to combat practices like sorcery (tohungaism) and canni-
balism (kaitangata), says Aperhama:  
Internally, the music was used to fight against [unhealthy practices].? In those times our 
people even up to the 1920?s and 30?s we were still practicing sorcery. It was in the 
1920?s when the last recorded activities of kaitangata or cannibalism [took place]. Our 
people were still coming out of the old mindset. 
 
Aperahama points out that before colonization, the M ori ?economy? was built on music 
and music-related oral practices and technologies, like knowledge of genealogy and other 
chants and prayers: 
According to our old people, the technology of their time was the more karakia or the 
more incantations and the more prayers you knew, and the more genealogy information 
you held, you controlled the economy. ?We?ve only been introduced to a cash economy 
culture for the last 200 years. But prior to that, M ori economy was land, whakapapa, 
genealogy, and incantations. As I said earlier, the more person you are in those realms, 
the [more you] controlled the economy and controlled the community and society 
basically. But with the challenge of Western democracy, the breakdown of tribal 
structures, the introduction of technology and a cash economy, the traditional tribal 
structures started to break down or pull away.  
 
Music was actively used to combat beliefs and practices that were considered undesir-
able, and also to preserve and promote what were considered to be positive features of 
M ori culture. In some cases his process involved providing substitutes for unhealthy or 
undesirable practices that effectively provided entire substitute repertoires that 
simultaneously allowed people to retain basic ways of being and doing that were impor-
tant for retaining a sense of themselves as M ori, but at the same time allowed them to 
purge some undesirable traits and practices. In the next section I present some of Ruia 
Aperahama?s perspectives on the construction of musical repertoires and institutions at 
Ratana. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 146 
 
Instituting Music at Ratana 
Ratana methodically used music to promote a transition from the old to the new ways. 
This process involved preservation of traditional meanings and functionalities while 
facilitating adaptation to new and changing realities. In some cases this process involved 
introducing new elements, like brass bands, into traditional rituals. But the ultimate result 
was to both rebuild old institutions with new elements and construct new institutions 
using elements of the old. Aperahama described how Ratana, as he traveled around New 
Zealand preaching and organizing, changed the protocol of the traditional powhiri when 
he went on to a marae
36
: 
Music again had to play a major part in helping people with the transition. By that time, 
our people had lost the ability of literacy. While in the early 1820?s to the early 1850?s, 
M ori were by comparison with the [European] colonial population [more literate] in 
their own language. But by the 1890?s that whole thing changed, the economic situation 
of M ori changed [with regard to] land [and] policies. Government legislation removed 
the economic power and the base of M ori. [This] resulted in loss of not just culture and 
language, but economic base, and through that, music and a lot of our arts and culture 
also suffered during that period. ?[In order] to try and preserve what was left, 
Ratana?used music to fight sorcery when he went onto maraes. [As visitors come onto a 
local marae during the powhiri] there?s a challenge that happens and the kaiwero runs out 
and he swings his taiaha, clearing the pathway [to establish] whether you come as an 
enemy. ?In those times, tohungas would use sorcery to fight against?enemies. The way 
Ratana combated against sorcery was with music. He used brass bands to march on 
maraes to clear the way. ?Because the drummer at the back kept the rhythm of the brass 
band, using Western technology ? imitated and then innovated, and then re-expressed 
and put out in a unique M ori way ? he used the power of music to fight against sorcery. 
As an example ? in Waikato, the challenger comes out with his taiaha and the challenger 
keeps to a very strict rhythm. There are certain patterns that they have to follow and 
certain rituals ? to go left and right ? and each particular movement indicates or 
symbolizes a certain thing or a certain message to the messenger coming on. So the 
challenger has to keep to a strict rhythm. When the brass bands used to go on and split 
[apart into columns] ? the kaiwero or the challenger [would] come straight into the 
middle to put the dart [the wero] or the leaf down in front of Ratana [for him] to accept 
the challenge. As the brass band would split open, the bass drum would be at the back 
booming hard, and nine times out of ten, the rhythm of the brass band and the rhythm of 
the bass drum would throw [off] the internal rhythm of the challenger. If you could break 
the concentration of the challenger, there was a good chance you would also break the 
spiritual ? or the makutu ? the supernatural power or force of the tribe.  
                                                
36
 This ritual is replayed annually during the powhiri held during the Birthday Celebration at Ratana. See 
below. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 147 
 
Ratana expanded the M ori music repertoire based on established tradition. In every 
instance, the status and symbolic potential of music and sound in the M ori world was 
already well-established, so the Ratana movement?s ?new? uses and applications of 
music were based on a basic functionality translated and transformed to fit a contem-
porary context. Ratana also used music during speeches on the marae: 
He used to stand up and speak or sometimes preach. The brass band would start?playing 
music underneath. ?Music was [used] for dramatic reasons or to pull in people?s spirit, 
to give ambience and depth to what he was delivering on the courtyard. He was a great 
showman as well, Ratana. And used all those dramatic techniques on marae in order to 
capture people?s interest and to capture people?s imagination. ?Music is a major part in 
the Ratana experience and in particular, the M ori world for lots of reasons on the 
spiritual and supernatural level. And that still happens today. There are still people today 
who are psychics in the M ori world, ? what we call matakite [?seer?] ? some for what 
they call the ?white light? or the ?pure light? and some for the bad light. But those forces 
still happen today and music still plays a major part in?wielding all of those types of 
influences on the marae. 
 
Ratana commissioned the composition of new music employing purpose-built symbolic 
content: 
He had particular hymns and particular marches composed for specific events or specific 
occasions and the one you mentioned in particular, ?Mura Ahi,? or ?Blaze Away,? he 
used that particular march?because of the name?for fighting against sorcery. When he 
went to a place to lift the tapu from some place that had a curse on it.? Like for example 
in Wairarapa, a stone in Wairarapa where it was cursed and two, three generations were 
dying during Ratana?s time. It got so bad, that they were saying that there were 20-30 
people dying a week just from one family line in this area. So Ratana went to this place 
where the stone was and lifted [the tapu] and that?s the music that he used, ?Blaze 
Away.? [The march] was about the Angels and the power of the Angels. In the M ori 
psyche, angels play a very important role ? guardian angels. Or as we had in the old 
religion, angel of the wind, angel of the water, angel of the stars. In the Ratana experience 
and in the Ratana Church, angels play a very prominent role. ??Blaze Away??was 
calling on the angels to be like a blazing fire to come through and to burn out the old 
curse that was on a place. 
 
The symbolism that Ratana employed was not restricted to the content of the music?s 
title. The syncretic adaptation of Western brass instruments and the deployment of band 
musicians in M ori ritual contexts, even the design of the band uniforms are all conscious 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 148 
 
semaphores of merging cultures and a particular view of the Old Testament where M ori 
are seen as being like a lost tribe wandering in the desert.
37
 
Ratana?s vision was inclusive of both M ori and non-M ori. One aspect of this inclusive-
ness is apparent in his commissioning of music by European composers. He also used 
music as a way to draw attention to the Ratana Movement and to gain a stage to promote 
M ori issues like the Treaty of Waitangi. In the next section I examine some of the ways 
Ratana used music to connect with other groups.  
Ratana?s Musical Articulation with Non-M ori 
Ratana?s gaze was turned both inward and outward and he used music as a way of con-
necting with both M ori and non-M ori. Aperahama says that Ratana used the commis-
sioning of music as a means to build bridges with other communities: 
Ratana was very pro-M ori but very accepting of the world, not frightened of the world. 
[He] encouraged our people to accept the world and be open to it because he says that 
within the depth of legislation, within the depth of the technology that has come from the 
West, God is there and the Holy Spirit is moving. To prove that, he entered into a number 
of collaborations with Pakeha composers, in particular, a gentleman called Tom Gray 
who was a?white New Zealander from Wanganui and the Wanganui Garrison band. 
Ratana approached him and asked, because Wanganui has not got a strong, a very good 
relationship with M ori or the M ori community historically.
38
 Wanganui was the base 
and for the constabulary and the soldiers?. And the Wanganui Garrison Band has that 
history. Surprisingly, [given] the tension between M ori and Pakeha, Ratana approached 
Tom Gray from?and asked him to compose a unique march for the Ratana Church and 
                                                
37
 ?To Ratana [music] was the softener of human hearts. Like the Israelites of old he believed musicians 
would lead the procession into the promised land and bring down the strongholds of the old system, as 
illustrated in the felling of Jericho?s walls. In keeping with that episode of biblical history, Ratana insisted 
there be seven brass bands scattered about the country.? Keith Newman 1986, ?New Beginnings Inspire 
Ratana Youth,? http://www.wordworx.co.nz/newbeg.html, 1/8/2006. 
38
 There continue to be disputes between M ori and Pakeha groups in the region contesting naming rights 
for the town of Wanganui ? with many local M ori preferring an orthographic rendering consistent with 
the spelling of the Whanganui River. On the opposite side, some local Pakeha groups, including one lead 
by Michael Laws, the outspoken mayor and a former National Party MP with a reputation for racial 
polemics, are intractable and insist on the ?historic? spelling (i.e., minus the ?h?). 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 149 
 
for Ratana Brass Bands. That march was composed and called the Ratana March, which 
only the Ratana brass bands played and have copyright over. 
 
Ratana?s use of music was reflexive ? it made a two-way bridge between the Pa and the 
outside world, so that he attracted outsiders to Ratana, just as he used it to go out to other 
communities. Aperahama described how Ratana used music to reach out beyond his local 
constituency: 
He invited many brass bands and many other touring and performing groups into Ratana 
Pa. He also had a strong relationship with a Methodist Minster called Arthur J. Seamer
39
 
[who] had a strong profound influence on particularly M ori choir history in this country. 
It was inevitable that Father Seamer and Ratana would work together, not just on the 
theological, religious themes and climate of the time, but also musically. Father Seamer 
would come to Ratana?because it was a pantribal community. There [were] great 
opportunities for young people who were coming through the ranks, through the choirs 
and through the brass bands to have an opportunity to go on to touring parties that Father 
Seamer had organized. Father Seamer set up networks and circuits overseas through 
London, America, Germany, France.? During the late 1920s, 1930s, he was taking 
cultural groups overseas to experience the world circuit, to expose them to the world 
culture, and [to provide] an opportunity for them to share M ori music, language, culture, 
et cetera. 
 
Ratana?s musical collaborations were international in scope. Aperahama says that Ratana 
used musical exchanges as a way of forging relationships overseas: 
There is a huge repertoire of original music composed by Ratana followers or Ratana 
people or by collaboration [with people] such as Tom Gray and other[s]?. There was 
also a collaboration between him and Juji Nakata when he was in Japan. ?Nakata had a 
music school [and] he opened up the music school to Ratana and his party and?both of 
them shared in their people?s genealogy, their histories, their response to Christianity, 
their response to old religions, what positions they were in for the nation and both of 
them forged a strong relationship. During his time, Ratana gave Juji Nakata a number of 
music manuscripts of M ori music, and also a lot of the original music that was being 
composed for Ratana. In exchange, Juji Nakata gave him a book of hymns and a book of 
Japanese music, traditional music. A relationship was forged and a marriage was entered 
there, a spiritual marriage between the M ori nation and the Japanese nation. 
                                                
39
 The Methodist M ori Mission had a particularly effective presence in the Waikato region (where both the 
Ratana and the Kingitanga movements are centered). M ori activist Donna Awatere says this was because 
?they did not attempt to reform M ori values, but were prepared to adapt church ritual to suit M ori tastes? 
(Awatere quoted in Thomson 1991: 202). According to Thomson, Seamer exemplified this stance and he 
?took part in the communal life of the marae, including Pai marire services? (Thomson 1991: 202). 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 150 
 
Ratana?s choices for political aspiration were also well-grounded in music, according to 
Aperahama:  
There are prominent singers and songwriters that came out of Ratana ? Paraire 
Paikea?and Eruera Tirikaatene, who later became two of Ratana?s candidates for 
Parliament and entered into Parliament. But these two gentlemen were also band masters 
and composers and songwriters. [Their music included] hymns that were sourced from 
[the] Sankey [hymn book] and from the Church of England, because most of the 
followers who accumulated and culminated into the Ratana Church were inter-
denominational. So a lot of the music that would make up the Ratana Church repertoire, 
was sourced from all the churches. You?ll hear hymns in the Ratana Church from 
Catholic, Presbyterian, Church of England, Methodist. ?Paraire Paikea, he composed a 
lot of the original and particularly, uniquely Ratana hymns. Paikea composed a lot of the 
Ratana hymns?that make up the [Ratana] repertoire, I think about fifteen of them, [that] 
he composed. [They?re] very beautiful. I love those hymns. 
 
The blending of repertoires from different Christian denominations was a deliberate, 
ecumenical extension of Ratana?s pantribal doctrine. Aperahama says that Ratana?s world 
tours, his use of music, his healing, et cetera, were all directed at encouraging the con-
scious formation of a new identity that was viable in the modern world: 
It would?ve been inevitable for Ratana come back with those influences and try?to find 
a new identity for the people. His redefining of [M ori] identity wasn?t so much to deny 
who we were in essence, but it was out of necessity ? [we] have to define ourselves. 
Because as [in] all societies?change is inevitable. 
 
He maintains that Ratana?s vision, and his use of music, operated on a more basic, and 
more persistent, level than the more visible realms represented by success or failure in 
politics, where injustices are symptomatic of deeper problems: 
[Although] he failed in trying to bring about change and constitutional reform or in 
legislation or in policy
40
?he used music to describe the spirit of humanity or the true 
human spirit. Where he says that the true human spirit, remove the flesh and what we 
were before what he called genesis. He was talking about repatriation, reparation and 
reconciliation and that?s a strong theme in Ratanaism?. With reconciliation through 
injustices, whether it was internal between tribe against tribe or the Crown in later years, 
                                                
40
 Recognition of the Treaty of Waitangi as the founding document of New Zealand, a waxing, but still 
contentious issue, did not occur until long after Ratana?s death. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 151 
 
he was talking about the human spirit and our true identity in human spirit form before 
genesis. He?said that injustices have only occurred because one party has forgotten who 
they are. ?He was determined for M ori to reconnect with who they were to understand, 
not [in] a shallow cultural sense, not in an organic sense, not in a biological sense only, 
but going back to the human spirit. He used music to describe that and illustrate that. 
He was saying that the key note C that you play today?fifty years from now, you play 
the key note C, it?ll be consistent. Unlike you and I today, I may say something today and 
yet ten years from now, fifty years from now, I may say something different. What he 
meant was that true human identity or true human spiritual identity has been consistent 
and it?s because of our falling out or forgetting that, that?s when we cause imbalance, and 
that?s when we cause conflict and infliction against one another. ?He used a lot of other 
analogies of music?to get across messages.  
Music was a particularly appropriate vehicle for Ratana?s purposes because he presented 
it as an accessible symbolic system that was and appropriate to a population under threat 
of losing its economic base, its culture, and literacy: 
During that time after the 1890s, M ori lost economic base, cultural identity, and also 
with that, the power of literacy. They became an illiterate culture?particularly during the 
1900s to the 1940s. So music became even more and more important?. [It] became the 
vehicle of communication (although it?s always been a means of communication for 
M ori) particularly during that period of the 1900s to the 1940s. Music became the main 
vehicle of educating and forming communities and Ratana saw that. [He] used music 
whether it was traditional or contemporary?he would take modern tunes from overseas. 
[He would] take our aspirations, dreams, and vision, our own words, our own language 
[and] adapt it, cross over, and use western influence songs ? popular songs, but 
[inserting] M ori words and messages. So you?ll get songs like ?Little Brown Jug,? the 
tune is very, very similar?but the messages will be about M ori independence [see 
Figure 7]. 
 
Aperahama sang the M ori version for me: 
E noho e Rata
41
 te hiri o Waikato 
Hurihia to kanohi ki te Hau-a-uru 
Nga tai e ngunguru 
I waho te akau 
Aue hei aue, aue hei aue 
 
Rata abides as the strength of Waikato 
[At his back] the West Winds [also the 
districts of Taranaki and Whanganui] 
The boisterous winds that roar 
From offshore [in opposition] 
Howl, howl away 
 
                                                
41
 Journalist Gordon Spittle, a who has written extensively about popular music in New Zealand, attributes 
the lyric ?E Rata e Noho? to Princess Te Puea, granddaughter of the second M ori King, Tawhiao. Spittle 
says Te Puea wrote the lyrics in 1917 in honor of Te Rata, the fourth M ori King. Spittle 1997: 5. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 152 
 
 
Figure 7. Transcription of ?E noho e Rata,? a song about M ori independence sung to the tune of 
?Little Brown Jug.? 
 
Aperahama says the song is about the King Movement: 
E noho e Rata, and Rata was the M ori King.
42
 Te hiri o Waikato, hurihia to kanohi, and 
it talks about the King movement and the Waikato district being the supporters of the 
King Movement and so that song ? and a lot of the themes of that particular period ? 
were about M ori independence. 
 
The tune is a combination of European melody and M ori language lyrics inflected with 
elisions in M ori/Polynesian style. As with M ori adaptations of many other popular 
tunes, the substitution of M ori lyrics tends to have a profound effect on the feeling of the 
song. An increased number of syllables tends to intensify the rhythmic impact and also to 
draw more attention to the words themselves ? the literal content of the lyrics is brought 
to the forefront and the melody takes on the character of a mnemonic device. The 
rhythmic dicing that results from the polysyllabic quality of the language when it is 
imposed on otherwise held notes in a tune has an effect similar to that elicited by the 
?wordy? lyrics of a composer like Joni Mitchell, for example. The unpitched final beat in 
measure six is traditionally voiced as a group punctuation, an embodiment of group 
                                                
42
 King Te Rata was selected as the new M ori king when his father, King Mahuta died in 1911. Like his 
predecessor he was an advocate for restoration of M ori rights as stipulated in the Treaty of Waitangi. In 
1914 he raised money by soliciting small amounts of money from supporters and selling family land to take 
a list of grievances to King George V and Queen Mary. His petition was refused. http://tvnz.co. 
nz/view/page/430905/815892, 3/5/2008.  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 153 
 
solidarity. In this manner a ?nonsense? tune like ?Little Brown Jug? is transformed and 
takes on an entirely different affect ? ?E noho e Rata? comes to symbolize group cohe-
sion, history, and language preservation, et cetera. In subsequent versions of the song, the 
name of the current M ori King or Queen is substituted for Rata, giving the song a 
contemporary, synchronic dimension.  
The Way to Ratana Pa 
At the conclusion of our interview, Ruia Aperahama gave me an overview of how the 
Birthday Celebration is usually organized at Ratana. People generally begin arriving at 
the Pa the weekend before the birthday, and festivities go on for several days leading up 
to the day ? January 25. The activities consist of religious services, band rehearsals, wa-
nanga (workshops on various cultural and educational topics), and music and dance 
performances and competitions in a variety of genre, including kapahaka, brass bands, 
reggae and various other popular styles. Usually these activities carry on simultaneously 
at a number of venues throughout the Pa, with the main stage located directly on the 
paepae. 
On January 24, the various entertainment activities are punctuated by a series of powhiri 
as outside groups (manuhiri) ? including national, regional, and local politicians and 
notables like the M ori Queen ? and their contingents as are welcomed and introduced 
onto the marae. During these powhiri, entertainment is suspended for the duration of the 
formal ceremony and resumed again at the end. In effect, the powhiri are the major per-
formances of the day, and people flock to them with intense interest to see New 
Zealand?s political elite and also to witness and be a part of the media spectacle which 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 154 
 
will play on television news that evening, and will be repeated in sound bites for weeks 
and months to come. At the conclusion of the powhiri in the late afternoon, performances 
lasting into the evening complete the day. 
The festivities culminate on the 25th ? Ratana?s birthday. Following a brief formal 
service (whakamoemiti ? ?thanksgiving?) on the morning of the final day, which is 
preceded and followed by a parade of the faithful, the ceremonies culminate with compe-
tition finals and a full day of fun and performance, with most events held on the main 
stage.  
Ruia gave me directions to the Pa from nearby Wanganui and described to me the scene 
that I would be met with on arrival. He told me that, for the Birthday Celebration, the 
approach to the Pa is cordoned off and visitors are met at by katipa,
43
 the Ratana ?police? 
? these Ratana officials are similar in appearance and function to the more familiar 
M ori wardens who help to manage similar events at other New Zealand venues ? at a 
checkpoint just before entering the settlement. Ruia instructed me to inform them that I 
was his guest, there to observe the celebration. 
Return to Ratana Pa 
The following sections are comprised primarily of first person commentaries based on 
field notes. The commentaries involve detailed first person descriptions of my 
experiences at the Birthday Celebration and were assembled after the fact from field 
journals and audio-visual materials. They are the ?normal? mode of presentation in this 
                                                
43
 ?Katipa? is a M orization of the English term ?constable.? 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 155 
 
section. These commentaries, which are mediated by time (and reflection), are presented 
in the past tense.  
Use of the present tense and insertion of the heading ?Field Journal? mark moments that 
require a more immediate mode of representation and where I wish to convey more of my 
own affective engagement in a given situation. Field notes and commentaries are inter-
spersed with third person ?authoritative? narratives that supply global details of known 
rituals and events, and that are presented in the appropriate tense (present for ongoing and 
past for historic occurrences or events). 
Birthday Celebration, January 24, 2006 
I arrived at the Pa early on the morning of the 24th ? the day that dignitaries were to be 
escorted onto the paepae. The day was overcast and threatened rain. The katipa waved me 
through the checkpoint and I proceeded to the home of Ruia?s sister, ?Peaches,? just up 
the street from the Tempera. The Pa was transformed from the time of my last visit. 
Although the streets were still relatively clear at that early hour, the wide-open spaces I 
had encountered on my previous trip to the Pa were now densely packed with tents, 
vehicles and people beginning to stir. Some of the TV news people were already in evi-
dence setting up a cherry picker to film the proceedings. The place buzzed with 
anticipation. 
Peaches?s house (like all of the homes on the street) had cars parked in the driveway and 
along the front, and the backyard was occupied by two tents and a camper with various 
family members and friends encamped. I introduced myself and asked after Peaches and 
was told she was inside.  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 156 
 
I knocked on the side door and was greeted by Peaches. She offered me a cup of tea and 
as I sat to drink it, I was introduced to their uncle, who was seated at the kitchen table. 
Uncle spoke no English and my M ori was inadequate to the task, so I spent a few 
awkward moments as I waited for Ruia to appear. A few minutes later, Ruia materialized 
and we chatted for a bit. 
Ruia told me a bit about how the events of the day would proceed. He suggested I should 
go to the room that had been set aside for the press (all of the major news organizations 
would all be present for the appearances by politicians) to be briefed on what was 
permissible for documenting the events of the day. Obtaining press credentials would 
also give me access to designated vantage points for observing and recording the pro-
ceedings without risking violating any tapus or etiquettes.  
After having tea, Ruia walked me toward the paepae where the major events would take 
place. The streets were flooded with people milling about, including the seven Ratana 
Brass Bands, resplendent in their colors. Ruia introduced me to several elderly tradition-
bearers among the musicians and told me about their backgrounds. He also introduced me 
to his older brother, Manny Aperahama, who is the current leader of the massed Ratana 
Brass Bands. All of the brass band folk were very busy preparing for the day?s events, so 
conversations were necessarily brief. I did manage to connect with Manny and we dis-
cussed meeting for an interview at a later date.  
Ruia pointed me to the pressroom and went off to attend to obligations elsewhere. After 
that point I was only able to speak with him briefly as his presence was in demand for 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 157 
 
various official Church functions. My next major encounter with Ruia would be a few 
weeks later in Auckland. 
Media Briefing 
At the pressroom, I found myself sandwiched among a throng of reporters, familiar 
talking heads from network newscasts, photographers and camera crews. There were 
about 40-50 people in a room with an area of about 600 square feet. Of those present, 
some wore clothing sporting the M ori TV logo, others carried equipment or objects 
identifying them as representing Television New Zealand or TV3, the two principal 
networks. Speaking with people and listening to the general chatter in the room as we 
awaited the Ratana media liaison, I learned that in addition to the major newspapers 
several local and regional news organizations were represented. 
After about 15 minutes, Wayne Johnson, the Ratana Media Liaison, appeared and intro-
duced himself to the assemblage. Johnson explained that there would be six powhiris 
during the course of the day. The first of these (for the local mayor, district councillors 
and representatives of the Mormon Church) had already been completed. Coming up 
would be Dame Sylvia Cartwright, the Governor General, followed by Tumu Te Heu 
Heu, arikinui (paramount chief) of Tuwharetoa, with his r pu (party) along with the 
police commisioner?s. Following them would come Don Brash, leader of the opposition 
National Party. In a break with the published schedule, Brash?s party would be welcomed 
at the same time as a group of M ori Party MPs (members of parliament) led by Pita 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 158 
 
Sharples and Tariana Turia. This pairing ? considered mischievous by some
44
 ? in-
spired a lot of speculation in the popular press about the political implications of the 
move. Mr. Johnson made it quite clear that this was done in order to keep the proceedings 
on schedule. The last two groups of the day to be welcomed onto the marae were Prime 
Minister Helen Clark, accompanied by ministers of the Crown, and M ori Queen Te 
Arikinui Te Atairangi K hu, along with her entourage from the Waikato region. For the 
mainstream media, the Prime Minister?s appearance would be the high point of the day, 
followed closely by that of the Leader of the Opposition. The latter?s appearance 
provided juicy sound bites, especially because of the pairing with the M ori Party. Don 
Brash is generally considered antipathetic to M ori and has been very vocal in putting 
forward a ?multicultural? agenda that seeks to rescind what he sees as a ?privileged? 
status for M ori as stipulated in the Treaty of Waitangi. Meanwhile Ratana had a long 
standing, traditional alliance with the Labour Party dating from the 1930s until 1996, 
when the Church declared itself politically neutral, although the bulk of Ratana members 
retained strong Labour Party ties. The recent formation (July 2004) of the M ori Party is 
seen by some to be a challenge to that traditional alliance, and the pundits were looking 
for portents in the organization and execution of the day?s ceremonies. 
Johnson went on to inform us of the areas where filming was allowed or interdicted: 
during the powhiri, it would be allowed from the stage (to the left of the marae ground ? 
the paepae ? as you looked toward the front), on the roadways, and on other areas not on 
                                                
44
 ?The Maori Party was forced to share the stage with National at the annual Ratana celebrations 
yesterday, sparking speculation that Ratana leaders were punishing the party for its post-election dalliance 
with National.? Jon Stokes, New Zealand Herald 1/25/2006. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 159 
 
the marae ground. For the day of the 24th, when the powhiris were to take place, 
photography was not allowed on the paepae itself, in the Temple or the Temple grounds 
(inside the gates), in any of the sleeping areas, from the top of the paepae marquee, or in 
the area set aside for the manuhiri to have a ?cup of tea? (the consumption of food at the 
conclusion of the powhiri is an essential part of the ceremony). On the 25th, photography 
and recording were allowed on the paepae, but no filming was allowed at the Temple 
gates.  
Mr. Johnson also laid down ground rules for interviews: the Tumuaki (literally ?crown of 
the head? ? executive head or ?president?) does not give interviews, Waka Paama, the 
Executive Secretary, would respond to questions on Church matters and Wayne Johnson 
would respond to inquiries on secular matters. Johnson emphasized that, while all consti-
tuencies are afforded a voice (?Te Reo Pakeha and Te Reo M ori?), the Ratana Church 
wouldn?t respond or comment on any political issues during the Birthday Celebrations.  
The overwhelming sense of the message was that Ratana Pa functioned as a venue where 
different voices are given an equal hearing. The Ratana Church provides the venue, and 
perhaps more importantly, the kaupapa ? the ground rules and the milieu ? for an 
encounter between groups. This kaupapa is wrought in the best of M ori tradition, which 
provides for an appropriate and equitable exchange and coming together. The Ratana 
Church remains above the fray ? they don?t engage in partisanship, they merely provide 
the kaupapa. In this way, however, the Ratana Church accrues mana. The fact that the 
kaupapa, the milieu is itself a M ori milieu, elevates M oritanga by demonstrating its 
potential for providing a superstructure for this equitable coming together.  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 160 
 
The media briefing was itself a performance that reinforced Ratana?s dominion in that 
place ? all of the various media were treated with an even hand. One film crew, hired by 
the Church to do a sanctioned documentary, was afforded the ?privilege? to film on the 
paepae during the powhiris. However, even this group of people were subject to the 
kaupapa of the Church.
45
 
At the conclusion of the media briefing, I approached Mr. Johnson to inform him of the 
reason for my presence (fieldwork for this dissertation) and was given a press pass to 
enable me to take up a vantage point on the (raised) stage. As the press corps fanned out, 
I staked a position at the front corner of the stage, close to the covered verandah area 
where the tangata whenua were seated, but under a convenient overhang that would 
shelter me from the impending rain. I watched and waited as the powhiri for Dame Sylvia 
Cartwright, the New Zealand Governor General ? the official representative of the 
British Crown ? began. 
Powhiri 
In ritual that was repeated for each subsequent group, the Governor General?s party 
gathered in the distance next to the Tempera. The seven massed Ratana Brass Bands ? 
in light blue, sky blue, dark blue, purple, green, red, yellow and orange jackets and 
flanked by katipa in black jackets ? assembled in front of the party and began playing 
the Ratana March as they moved them toward the paepae (see Figure 8).  
                                                
45
 During the morning prayer session on the following day ? a very hot day with strong sun beating down 
? all of the men were required to remove their hats. Two members of a film crew who were working for 
the Church and who had been afforded special permission for filming in otherwise interdicted areas, 
resisted ? one of them expressed vocal outrage, but they were instructed in no uncertain terms by the 
katipa that they were not excepted from the rule. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 161 
 
 
Figure 8. Ratana bands escort Governor General Dame Sylvia Cartwright on to the paepae. 
 
Field Journal ? January 24, 2006 
At the edge of the paepae, the brass bands split and the party of vistors emerges from 
their midst and continues up the center onto the sacred ground of the paepae where they 
are met by the kaikaranga
46
 who sings a challenge as she twirls a taiaha, the ancient 
spear/fighting staff. The karanga of the tangata whenua is answered in turn by a 
kaikaranga representing the manuhiri as they move onto the paepae [see Figure 9]. 
Behind the kaikaranga of the tangata whenua and in front of the verandah where the 
representatives of the tangata whenua sit, a mixed group of (mostly) younger men and 
women perform the haka known as Te Rauparaha?s Haka
47
 as part of their challenge to 
the manuhiri as they approach. The cacaphony that results from the clash of competing 
sounds including a rhythmic disjunction between the metric rhythms of the march with 
those of the haka, and the contrast between the non-Western intonation of the karanga, 
the monotonic chant of the haka and the Western melody and harmonization of the 
Ratana March is striking. 
As the entourage of the manuhiri moves forward onto the paepae, the brass bands turn, 
regroup and march back toward the Tempera. As they go, the sound of the March is 
replaced with the sound of a snare drum beating a retreat, which recedes into the 
distance and the marchers as the more M ori sounds of the karanga and the haka come 
to dominate the soundscape. 
 
 
                                                
46
 Karanga are calls that are exchanged between the home people and the visitors at the beginning of the 
powhiri. Kaikaranga are the women who execute these calls. 
47
 See Chapter Two. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 162 
 
 
Figure 9. Kaikaranga/Kaiwhero escorting Prime Minister Helen Clark onto paepae. 
 
Speeches 
At the beginning of the speeches, I was met with a surprise, as Ruia Aperahama stood to 
speak for the tangata whenua (see Figure 10). Speaking roles on the marae, particularly 
for dignitaries, is a high honor and a sign of Aperahama?s mana. 
Field Journal, continued 
At the completion of the challenge, the manuhiri take seats under a canopy and the 
speeches begin. To my surprise, the first to speak is Ruia Aperahama. He steps onto the 
paepae and begins to orate in M ori. His mastery of whaikorero literally raises the hair 
on the back of my neck as he stands on the paepae in front of the tangata whenua and 
declares to the manuhiri with word and gesture. The movements and manner of speech 
are highly stylized in whaikorero, and although I have witnessed many kaumatua speak 
on marae, Ruia speaks with an authority I have rarely witnessed, particularly in a person 
so young. His rhythm, tone and delivery have the impact of song ? the rhythms are 
trenchant and the tenor and volume of his voice rise and fall in dramatic delivery. All the 
while he moves, his movements and gestures a traditional stylized dance. 
 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 163 
 
 
Figure 10. Ruia Aperahama delivers mihi to Governor General?s party (r pu). 
 
Following the introductory speech (te mihi) on behalf of the tangata whenua, the 
manuhiri spoke in turn. At the conclusion of every speech, a group of the speakers 
supporters rose to sing (see Figure 11). The cycle repeated until all of the groups who 
came onto the marae together had spoken. Speeches generally began with a section called 
tauparapara that is replete with poetic allusions (particularly whakatauki) to the place ? 
physical or metaphoric ? that the group isefrom. These references are not necessarily 
clear to people (except the most erudite) from outside the group. 
 
Figure 11. Ratana tangata whenua sing waiata in support of Aperahama. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 164 
 
Repertoires 
Music, including karakia, tauparapara, and various forms of singing and oration, and 
particularly waiata, are an essential part of any M ori gathering where speech making 
takes place. In this section I examine some examples of how music and song repertoires 
are used as markers of group identity, particularly in the context of powhiri, where songs 
serve to support and a identify a speaker and his or her group. I filmed portions of the 
ceremony and discussed them later with Ruia Aperahama.  
At the Ratana Birthday Celebration, visitors from all over New Zealand converge on 
Ratana Pa and contingents are welcomed onto the marae during powhiri. Each contingent 
is formally recognized and represented by a spokesperson who speaks on behalf of the 
group. Following each speech, people who identify with the speaker?s words and his 
group will rise to sing in support. The songs are chosen from a repertoire known by the 
people associated with that speaker. The type of song and the manner of delivery may 
also be strongly associated with that group. Typically, speeches consist of whaikorero 
and include various chants that are both formal and formulaic. These are used to identify 
the speaker, and his (the speakers are usually male) group, to acknowledge the home 
people and the occasion. There is some variation in the formulas used for different types 
of chants, but generally they are solo declamations that resemble recitative in that the 
rhythms are derived from speech patterns, and pitches don?t vary a great deal. Supporting 
songs or waiata generally have M ori lyrics and take heterophonic form; however, they 
vary a great deal in terms of what might be called ?tunefulness,? from Western ?ditties? 
to monotone chants. Some of these forms are explored in greater detail below. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 165 
 
In the context of the Birthday Celebration, when there are literally hundreds of visitors in 
several groups, the support songs tend to be short versions ? usually one or two choruses 
? of longer tunes. Choice of songs (and the parts to be included) is generally relevant to 
the overall context of the proceedings as well as the moment in time when they are sung. 
Multiple identifications are not unusual and it is not uncommon for people to rise in 
support of more than one group. 
The manuhiri (visitors) are escorted onto the paepae by Ratana brass bands. The bands 
are chosen from among the seven regional brass bands and assigned in rotation according 
to a set duty roster. On the day of the Birthday Celebration I witnessed in January 2006, 
the band was a combination (due to a light attendance by members of individual bands) 
of the Tuahine, Hamuera, Ratana Tuatoru, and Te Whaia Tekatoa bands and, for the 
Governor General?s party (r pu), led by Isaac Webster, who is the drum major for the Te 
Reo Matua Hine band. 
The piece they play as they escort the manuhiri is the Ratana March, composed by Tom 
Gray, a contemporary of T.W. Ratana and a member of the Wanganui Garrison Brass 
Band. Manny Abraham, 2006 leader of the massed Ratana Brass Bands (and Ruia 
Aperahama?s older brother
48
) says: ?Every time we march people onto the marae, we 
always march them on [with] the Ratana March ? anybody, whether it?s the Queen, 
whatever?.?
49
 
                                                
48
 Aperahama is the M orization of ?Abraham.? 
49
 Manny Abraham interviewed by H. Anderson, 2/27/2006. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 166 
 
Speeches: Tangata Whenua and Manuhiri 
After the visitors are marched onto the paepae and seated, the formal speeches (whai-
korero) begin. The proceedings are conducted almost entirely in M ori and for those 
Pakeha dignitaries who aren?t M ori-speakers, usually someone in their delegation or 
who is associated in some way with their group will translate and sometimes will speak 
for them.  
The people of the Ratana community are the tangata whenua (home people), and 
therefore set the context. The performances by the tangata whenua reflect and embody 
basic tenets of the Ratana community including pantribalism, unity, spirituality, pro-
gressive adaptation, and inclusion of Western and M ori arts and technologies, et cetera. 
All of the performances, including those of the manuhiri, reflect these themes as a tacitly 
agreed agenda. 
Ratana (Tangata Whenua) 
Ruia Aperahama delivered the welcoming speech (mihi) to the party of the Governor 
General Dame Silvia Cartwright. At the conclusion of the karanga, after the manuhiri 
were seated, Aperahama stepped forward onto the paepae in front of the covered 
reviewing stand where the Ratana tangata whenua were seated. His oration was delivered 
in M ori with the traditional flourish and gesture characteristic of whaikorero. Apera---
hama?s voice boomed out over the paepae with no need for amplification in order to be 
heard above the ambient noise issuing from throngs of people along the sidelines. 
Declaring that ?The Governor General as the representative of the Crown ? [is] the most 
important person to come to Ratana this year,? Aperhama?s whaikorero spoke of the rela-
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 167 
 
tionship between Ratana and the Crown as a continued legacy of the kingitanga 
movement starting with Tawhia in 1884 and dating even further back to the signing of the 
Treaty of Waitangi and, even earlier, to the declaration of independence in 1835.  
Following this speech, a group of the ten kuia rose on the tangata whenua side to sing 
?Kororia hareruia, Nga ihoa o nga mano, Te kahui ariki wairua, Ko te Mangai mai tau-
toko mai? (?Glory halleluia, Jehova of the multitude, The Mangai
50
 supports this noble 
spiritual flock?) to the tune of ?My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean.? The song, well known 
throughout New Zealand as a Ratana anthem, responds to and supports Aperahama?s 
speech by situating Ratana relative to the government. The words refer to an amalgam of 
the Old Testament and Ratana?s prophecy by invoking Arepa, Omeka, Hamuera and Piri 
Wiri Tua as the four points of the compass and the four winds. It calls for unity and goes 
into greater detail when it refers to Ratana?s policies. The song is rendered at very slow, 
dirge-like tempo (approximately 64 beats or syllables per minute) with rubato phrasing 
based on (group) convergence on words with long held syllables and a relaxed breath 
between phrases. The effect is to transform the light doggerel of the English tune into 
something elegant and weighty. 
Following Aperahama?s mihi to the Governor General, a guest speaker on the home side, 
Robert Te Hira ? a registered apostle (apotoro)
51
 from the Palmerston area of North 
Island ? spoke to add to the welcome. Following his speech the kuias rose and sang the 
                                                
50
 The designation ?Te Mangai? (?the Spokesperson?) is generally applied to the personage of T.W. Ratana 
within the community. 
51
 Registered apostles are an official designation of the Ratana Church. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 168 
 
third chorus of the Ratana hymn, ?Tupono mai Nga Iwi nei? (?This Nation Arrived 
Unexpectedly?) (see below and Figure 12). 
Kua whanau nei he Mangai 
Hei kaiarahi; 
Hei ora mo te ao katoa 
Te Ture Wairua. 
 
A speaker was born 
Who will be a leader; 
There will be salvation for the 
whole world: 
The law of the spirit.
52
 
 
Figure 12. Transcription of the 3
rd
 chorus of ?Tupono mai Nga Iwi nei.? 
 
This music followed a similar pattern to ?Kororia Hareruia?: it was characterized by a 
slow quasi-rubato, with held syllables and room for breathing and the (heterophonic) 
convergence of multiple voices.  
Ruia Aperahama notes that many of the supporting songs sung by Ratana members are 
hymns:  
They use lots of hymns as supporting speeches because they are reflective of the 
teachings of Ratana, but [also] because they?re pantribal?. When [people] come from 
their tribal regions [these are songs] that they are all familiar with. ?They?re hymns, but 
they become like anthems. So when we travel around the country, when these songs are 
sung, people who are on the other side [at powhiri] in tribal regions get up and sing [and] 
we know they are Ratana. 
 
I was able to observe the contrasts between Ratana and other styles repertoires in 
subsequent speeches. 
                                                
52
 My translation. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 169 
 
Whanganui Cleric and the Governor General ? Manuhiri 
The opening speeches were conducted in M ori. As the Governor General sat and 
listened, a younger man dressed in clerical attire translated for her. He was next to 
address the assemblage in M ori, on both his own behalf and that of the Governor 
General (see Figure 13).  
 
Figure 13. Whanganui Anglican cleric, Turama Hawira, delivers whaikorero (note Governor General 
seated in background. 
 
Although Ruia Aperahama didn?t know the cleric?s name,
53
 he was able to discern 
essential clues to the speaker?s identity from the style of his speech, his whaikorero and 
the songs sung in his support. Aperahama says he is from up the Whanganui River and 
speculates that he is likely to be a member of the Te Rangi family. Aperahama points out 
that his oration is in a particularly ?archaic style? and that the cleric uses formulas like 
karakia and tauparapara that are rhythmic, repetitive, and intensely poetic: 
                                                
53
 I later learned that his name was Turama Hawira, an Anglican celebrant from up the Whanganui and is 
associated with Ngati Rangi from that area. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 170 
 
Ka u, ka u ki uta, ka u, ka u ki tai ka u 
ki tenei whenua e tau, 
E pikipiki maunga tangaengae, 
E pikipiki kei uta tangaengae, 
Mo tenei tipua tangaengae, 
Mo tenei tauira tangaengae, 
Ka   mai tangaengae, 
Mo tenei tipua tangaengae, 
 
Mo tenei tauira tangaengae, 
Mo tenei tauhou tangaengae  
I land, I strike into the interior, I land, I land onto the 
coast, I land  
Onto this land to settle  
Struggling to climb the mountain  
Struggling to climb to reach the interior  
This ancestral struggle yet to be finished   
The struggle continues here  
In order to honor the ancestors? struggle 
 
In order to live up to the example of their struggle  
To meet the new challenge
54
 
 
 
Figure 14. Transcription of ?Te A U? (The Landing) excerpt. 
 
Aperahama translated the pulsating quality and the music of his speech into English: 
I land, I land, I land in towards the shoreline. 
Now I climb, I climb, I climb over the horizon. 
I climb, I climb, I climb over the hills. 
I climb to the place where the birthright has been buried. 
I now come to claim the birthright of that which has been buried upon the hilltops and 
upon the valleys. 
I now grasp and fetch the handle of the sacred prow upon my canoe. 
And there I focus my attention to the prow that cuts through the waves unto the horizon 
and to the burning sun of our origins. 
 
At this point the speaker changed to the style of oratory called huri nga tai (?traversing 
the boundaries?). Raising his voice louder, he picked up on the messages in the tangata 
whenua oratory: 
                                                
54
 Compare my subliteral translation, here, with Aperhama?s translation. A subliteral translation cannot 
capture the multiple meanings and senses that are inherent in the M ori version where words like ?whenua? 
mean ?land,? but also ?birth,? ?umbilical cord,? and hence ?birthright,? et cetera. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 171 
 
?E rongo e whakairi e, 
Ka ateatea te titiro o taku manu kotuku ki te whetu marama, 
Koia ra e ahurei ana ki runga ki tenei te pa o nga ariki 
Noreira e te iwi morehu mihi mai karanga mai, 
Poua ki runga poua ki raro, poua ake tera te ture wairua 
Tenei ahau e mihi atu ki (a) ratou ko nga Pou o te Haahi 
Arepa, Omeka, Piriwiritua me Hamuera, otira e te Temepra, mihi mai, karanga. 
Ka huri atu kia ratou kua wheturangitia, 
Nga mate o te wa, o nanahi kua wheturangitia, 
E tai e tai waho o Rehua e tai miminga Tangata he tai miminga aroha, 
Noreria hoki ake nei au ki te timatatanga o Taranaki, 
Koia ra te puao o te atatuaateatanga ki runga o te maunga kihai I nekeneke. 
Ka mihi atu ki a ia te tauheke, nana I amo ake te kaupapa o te kotahitanga, 
Noreria ko koe ra, e tama e Tame, Ko Kahurangi Tangata kei te mihi, 
Whaia e au te piupiutanga o toku tipuna, ko Horomatangi, 
Ko te koriporipotanga mai ra o te kopua kanapanapa, 
Papaa te whaitiri hikohiko te uira, ki ruga i te kotihitihi o Tongariro Maunga, 
Te mamaeroa te ngaukino kei roto I te tau o te ate, mou ra e te whanunga, mou ra e te 
Pihopa Takuira, moe mai ra. 
 
 
Figure 15. Transcription of ?Huri Nga Tai? (phrase). 
 
Aperahama translated: 
I acknowledge the spiritual legacy and the pillars of the church and the spiritual works of 
the Mangai ? Arepa, Omeka, Piriwiritua, and Hamuera greet and welcome us. 
I now turn and acknowledge those who have become like the stars and those who have 
made the long journey into the celestial world. 
And just as we see the tides that crash and ebb and flow, so do we as humans in our life 
and existence for only but a brief time ? we are here like the tides.  
But once the tide crashes upon the rocks that will never move, 
This, like our impact in the life that we have been given, each and every one of us. 
Tuoro Matangi, my ancestor who had come with the sacred rod that made the sky flash  
And then upon the summit of Tongariro that Tuoro Matangi made his mark ? making an 
impact upon the rock and taking the opportunity in his life to make a difference. 
 
At the conclusion to his declarative solo oratory, he began to sing. A group of the 
manuhiri rose to support his song (see Figure 16 and Figure 17). Notably the singers did 
not include the government officials who had accompanied the Governor General. The 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 172 
 
song is of the genre known as pao and the timbre was characterized by ngao, the almost 
nasal quality of the ?old style of singing.? 
(excerpted) 
?ki runga ki nga iwi, 
E hau papaki  , ka maaranga I te whenua 
He aroha he aroha, 
Whakatinanatia, 
Nga kupu tohutohu i waihotia iho 
Hei whakawaewae ki te motu nei   
 
 
Figure 16. Transcription of ?Pao? excerpt. 
 
Following Hawira, the Governor General was afforded the rare honor of being invited to 
move from the manuhiri side to speak from the tangata whenua side. Dame Cartwright 
then delivered a short written speech in halting M ori followed by an equally short 
English version. Her talk was primarily an acknowledgement of the occasion. She 
expressed gratitude to the Ratana Church. Apologizing for her M ori, she talked about 
growing up in Dunedin far removed from M oritanga. She went on to talk about the 
increasing presence and importance of M ori language and culture to New Zealand 
culture in general. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 173 
 
 
Figure 17. Manuhiri sing supporting waiata. 
When she sat down again (now on the tangata whenua side), following the Ratana kawe 
(local custom), a group of the manuhiri rose to sing in support of her speech. This time 
the group included various government officials who accompanied the Governor General 
to Ratana. 
They sang: 
Ma wai ra e taurima 
Te marae i waho nei? 
Ma te tika, ma te pono 
nei te aroha e 
 
Tau tahi tau rua 
e kore e koe wareware 
ka piri mai ko te aroha 
Hei hoa haere e 
Who will cherish and care for our 
marae now? 
Who but justice, truth  
and especially love? 
 
One year, two years ? you will 
not be forgotten 
For love will cleave to this place 
As a companion unto the future
55
 
                                                
55
 My translation. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 174 
 
 
Figure 18. Transcription of ?Ma Wai Ra.? 
According to Ruia Aperahama, this song, ?Ma Wai Ra,? is appropriate because it is well 
known throughout New Zealand:  
That song is usually used and engaged with by people in [government] ministries and 
departments. Songs like Po Karekare Ana and Ma Wai Ra are very common and known 
throughout Pakeha communities. As Pakeha people, the entourage and the staff may not 
have been familiar with other songs appropriate ? that one being familiar to them...its 
still appropriate.
 56
  
 
The selection of verses is appropriate because the sentiments expressed are an affective 
appeal to a general audience, one that is (or would be) invested in place-oriented 
heritage.
57
 As such, the song appeals to a cross-cultural New Zealand national audience 
and it is appropriate both in the context of the Crown, with its responsibility to promote 
the common weal and common heritage, and also within the context of the Ratana 
Birthday where diverse groups come together. 
The order of the speeches and the content was particularly interesting. At the beginning 
of the ceremony, all of the opening oratory was directed to the Governor General, which 
                                                
56
 Ruia Aperahama phone interview, H. Anderson, 3/9/2007. 
57
 New Zealand Folksong website describes it as ?a Ngati Porou lament sung at tangi. The ?Ma Wai Ra? 
verse is also sung at policy-making hui as a reminder to put personal motives aside.? http:// 
folksong.org.nz/ma_wai_ra/index.html, 3/17/2008. 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 175 
 
the young cleric translated for her. And when the cleric rose to speak, it was natural to 
assume that his oratory would be on the Governor General?s behalf, but instead its 
content, while general in affective content (birthright, striving, landing, and settling), was 
very specific in style and manner of delivery to his regional and kinship group.  
The content of the cleric?s oration was not inappropriate, but neither was it in any sense 
subordinate or particularly deferential to the status of the Governor General. The cleric?s 
speech was masterful ? it derived power from its ancient tone and the support he 
received from members of his group as they stood to sing.  
But mastery of M ori language, protocols, and the cleric?s performative skill in whai-
korero enabled him to a particular status in the context of the powhiri ? that it was 
appropriate for him to preceed her. During the cleric?s speech, no one translated for the 
Governor General ? she had no clue as to what was being said. (When she did rise to 
speak, following the cleric, Dame Sylvia acknowledged that she did not understand 
M ori language even as she attempted to read a pre-written speech in M ori.)  
The upshot is that the cleric?s mastery of the performative tradition allowed him a place 
and a voice in the institutional context of the Ratana Birthday Celebration that rivaled the 
prominence of that of the Governor General, the representative of the Crown who was 
acknowledged as an eminence.  
In subsequent ceremonies involving Helen Clark, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, 
and Don Brash, the leader of the opposition National Party, and various iwi from around 
the country, similar commentaries and scenarios of status played out in musical reper-
toires and performance.  
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 176 
 
This section has been focused on how music, oratory, and performance may be used to 
represent group identities as they articulate in proximity in the contemporary and histori-
cal M ori institutional context of Ratana Pa. In the next chapter I will examine Taonga 
P oro as a bicultural phenomenon and a symbolic entity with meanings and manifes-
tations that vary between groups and that can be parsed as evidence of both dis- and con-
junctive worldviews and intersecting or overlapping (or not) repertoires.  
Chapter Summary 
The focus of this chapter has been the representation of a series of performances at 
Ratana Pa, a cultural space that is fundamentally M ori in the sense that the ?rules? (ti-
kanga) for proper behavior, ?ownership? of the ground (and even the meaning of ?own-
ership?), and all of the other elements of propriety and context are dictated by M ori. 
Most importantly, the criteria for determining value and order, precedence and relative 
?worth? of individuals are ?locally? determined. 
The Background section to this ethnography is told in the third person and is presented as 
matters of historical ?fact? as determined primarily by written records. In this section I 
expose my premise that the Ratana Movement represents a ?bottom-up? synthesis of 
M ori and European cultures that has been particularly effective at allowing M ori 
people to retain significant elements of their cultural identities even as they accommo-
dated and even embraced some aspects of European culture. I say that music plays a 
central role in this process. 
In the second half of this chapter, ?Field Narratives,? my voice is foregrounded in sec-
tions where I present a series of commentaries as I report my first person experiences in 
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 177 
 
the course of my research and in interaction with people at and around the site. In the 
field, I found myself physically and affectively (that is to say, viscerally) situated in a 
cultural space where the rules for being and doing rested with my hosts. 
Several salient features of M ori situatedness at Ratana Pa are reflected in these 
narratives. The physical layout is reflective of communality. Even the architecture of 
some of the church buildings tells an inclusive story of M ori and Pakeha as co-equal (or 
not) immigrants, and there is a democratic undercurrent of empowerment and affective 
engagement among ordinary people, whereby they are prone to spontaneous expressions 
of ownership and belonging. 
Following commentaries relating my initial trip to Ratana in 2005, I introduce a principle 
character in my story, Ruia Aperahama, who serves as the narrator of a story within a 
story. I take Aperahama? s as an authentic and authorative testimony. And I take his testi-
mony as an index, both into M ori musical situatedness in general and to my textual 
rendering of the performances I witnessed at Ratana Pa. Aperahama?s narrative estab-
lishes music?s essential role at Ratana. 
The chapter finishes with an ethnography of the annual Birthday Celebration at Ratana 
with particular attention given to the powhiri ritual of welcome. This ethnography, 
informed by Aperahama?s continuing commentary, exposes several features of M ori 
cultural repertoires and interactions between M ori and Pakeha in a M ori-determined 
space. These sections explore particulars of the use of music and other symbolic reper-
toires in interactions between cultural groups, including how such repertoires and sym-
bols may be interpreted and used to determine value. There is a special focus on inter-
Chapter 3: Encountering Ratana ? Mana M ori 178 
 
actions that I witnessed between groups representing Ratana and other M ori, and the 
Crown in the person of Dame Sylvia Cartwright, the Governor General of New Zealand 
at the time of my fieldwork in 2006. 
 
179 
 
Chapter 4 
Taongo P oro Encounters 
 
Taonga P oro,
1
 ?singing treasures? or ?treasures of sound,? is the metonymic term for 
M ori musical instruments and a movement associated with the recovery of the ?lost 
arts? of making and playing these instruments. It is a complex phenomenon that presents 
as a range of multi-dimensional and highly reflexive (and frequently contested) cultural 
views and flows ? from past to present (and present to past, as ?history? and tradition 
are rewritten in the present), M ori to Pakeha, Pakeha to M ori, rural to urban, et cetera. 
This ethnography takes an interactionist approach to exploring the symbolic construction 
of meanings of Taonga P oro for different groups. 
I have encountered the Taonga P oro movement across several sites and have engaged 
with people involved with traditional M ori instruments in a range of circumstances. 
Most commonly, these instruments were used to establish connections and to discover 
and build identities. This ethnography deals with two main perspectives: traditionalist 
M ori views of taonga and tikanga (?correctness? or ?correct behavior?) as locality-
oriented phenomena, defined and ?owned? by M ori; and Taonga P oro as a ?lost? art to 
be salvaged in the public domain by agents operating in a more national and global 
                                                
1
 N.B., In my discussion of Taonga P oro I distinguish between the instruments and the movement by 
using lower case (?taonga p oro?) to indicate the instruments, and by treating the movement as a proper 
noun and using upper case (?Taonga P oro?). 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 180 
 
context. In a dialectical motion, these domains (as thesis and antithesis) interact to 
produce a synthesis, which may be seen to manifest as a ?new? genre of musical 
performance.  
Prior to the 1980s, the practice of instrumental music by New Zealand M ori was largely 
written off as an early casualty of European colonialism. The resurgence of Taonga P oro 
as a movement since that time is largely attributed to the efforts of Richard Nunns (a 
retired English teacher and musician), Hirini Melbourne (a M ori musician and composer 
who was adept in Te Reo and tikanga) and Brian Flintoff (a Pakeha carver). Flintoff, a 
master carver, facilitated the process by making new instruments based upon instruments 
held in museum collections and historical descriptions of the instruments.
2
 He fine-tuned 
his instruments in collaboration with Richard Nunns, who ?tested? the instruments for 
playability. Melbourne?s M ori language skills, knowledge of tikanga, and reputation as a 
musician lent cultural cachet to their efforts and facilitated access to traditional sites. 
Nunns and Melbourne traveled around New Zealand to various marae seeking people 
who had knowledge of the instruments and convening hui (gatherings) and wananga 
(workshops and master classes ? literally a ?forum?) where they gathered and shared 
existing stories and local knowledge about the instruments and promoted recovery 
efforts. Complementary movements for recovery of M ori language and a general 
renaissance movement for M ori arts and culture also reinforced M ori interest in taonga 
p oro and helped to create a receptive environment for these activities. In subsequent 
years (until Melbourne?s death in 2003), Nunns and Melbourne conducted increasing 
                                                
2
 See Best 1925; Oldman 1946; et cetera. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 181 
 
numbers of performances around New Zealand and internationally, and in the process 
raised the profile of Taonga P oro among New Zealand?s general populace.  
The popular success of this movement may in large part be attributed to the interaction 
between Pakehas Nunns and Flintoff, and Melbourne, a M ori. The backgrounds of these 
putative progenitors of the movement can be seen to represent different, but potentially 
complementary, contemporary ways of being and knowing: the Europeans ? Nunns and 
Flintoff ? initially accessed Taonga P oro through a ?fixed? record ? via material 
culture, literature, and ?history? ? whereas Melbourne, fluent in M ori and the ways of 
the marae, utilized an approach strongly rooted in the oral, flexible side of knowledge and 
which allowed access to the living record.  
Taonga P oro Narratives 
In this section I examine narratives about the significance of various participants. Hirini 
Melbourne?s contribution to the Taonga P oro movement is seen as paramount by many, 
particularly among M ori. 
Hirini Melbourne 
In the context of Taonga P oro as a ?revival? associated with parallel efforts to revitalize 
M ori language and culture and to address claims and redress grievances based on 
recognition and interpretation of the Treaty of Waitangi, the significance of taonga p oro 
as an interactive symbol is closely tied to how people perceive Melbourne?s role in the 
Taonga P oro movement. 
A significant moment in the Taonga P oro movement was the establishment of the group 
Haumanu (literally ?breath? or ?song? (hau) of a ?bird? (manu), but also meaning ?reviv-
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 182 
 
al?). Haumanu is essentially a collective of people ? mostly M ori, but including 
pakeha. In the preface to his book, Taonga P oro/Singing Treasures: The Musical 
Instruments of the M ori (published shortly after Melbourne?s death in 2003), Brian 
Flintoff describes Haumanu as:  
A loose-knit group of dedicated M ori music players and instrument makers which 
developed under the leadership of well-known composer and player, the late Dr. Hirini 
Melbourne (1950-2003). Hirini?s interest in traditional instruments had initially been 
stirred by looking at old examples lying silent in their museum cases. He mused sadly on 
their loneliness. What were the sounds they created? What stories were told about them? 
And would their music be heard by the coming generations? He set about finding the 
answers to these questions and subsequently drew together a number of people were 
already working on their revival, and others who also wished these treasures would sing 
again and were prepared to do something about it.
3
 
 
Flintoff?s rhetorical tone imputes a heroic if not quasi-mythical quality to Melbourne?s 
contribution to the Taonga P oro movement. While he refers to Melbourne, Nunns, and 
himself as a ?nucleus,? Flintoff?s narrative tends to deemphasize his and Richard Nunns?s 
status as ?originators? of the movement in favor of Melbourne?s leadership of Haumanu 
going forward. Similarly, he seems to put forward participants order of entry into the 
collective as a matter of record, but not of relative importance: 
The nucleus of Haumanu combined the complementary skills of Hirini, a musician and 
composer with an established status in both M ori and academic circles; Richard Nunns, 
as an accomplished flute player and multiskilled presenter; and myself as a craftsperson 
to make replicas of those treasures held safe in the museums. From a hui initiated in 1991 
Hirini also drew together such people as Mauri Tirik tene, Rangiiria Hedley, T pari Te 
Whata, Clem Mellish, Ranginui Keefe and Teepora K penga, John Collins, Te W rena 
Taua and Rewi Spragon, all with different areas of expertise but whose intention was to 
create a human resource that would foster the revival of the instruments. From these 
initial beginnings the Haumanu ?flock? began to increase over time and those who have 
joined the ranks are Te Aue Davis, Joe Malcolm, Hemi te Wano, Rangi Kipa, Bernard 
Makaore, P taka Taite, Aroha Yates-Smith, Warren Warbrick, Moana Maniapoto, 
Horomona Horo, Robin Slow, James Rickard and James Webster.
4
  
 
                                                
3
 Flintoff 2004: 7-8. 
4
 Ibid. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 183 
 
Indeed Flintoff is very careful in his language to clearly delineate an appropriate cultural 
space vis ? vis taonga as M ori cultural treasures, Melbourne?s intentions toward M ori, 
and Melbourne?s mediant position between te ao M ori and the non-M ori world: 
Hirini wished primarily to share this knowledge with his people of Ngai T hoe and other 
M ori, but he also recognised a similarity of human spirit in others and wanted everyone 
to respectfully share the gifts of his ancestors.
5
 
 
Melbourne?s status in M ori and academic circles accrued from his command of M ori 
language and the centrality of Te Reo to the contemporary M ori renaissance. John 
Moorfield, author of the Te Whanake series of M ori language books and teaching 
resources that are used widely in New Zealand to teach M ori as a ?second language,? 
speaks of Melbourne as a ?repository?: 
In a society which is based on oral tradition, the contribution of those individuals who are 
vested by their society with significant knowledge of, and stature in the culture, is vital in 
the propagation of knowledge. These individuals, referred to as repositories play an 
important role in Aoteaoroa/New Zealand in the preservation of M ori as a living and 
taught language.  
In the M ori world, people with a deep knowledge of their tribal culture, history and 
traditions and with fluency in the language are highly respected by their own tribe and 
M ori people in general. They are regarded as repositories of this knowledge?. To retain 
that knowledge for future generations is important. However, knowledge is passed on 
only if the person with the knowledge is confident that it will be used only in an 
appropriate manner, and for the benefit of the tribe or wider M ori community. 
Permission to publish some of this knowledge requires the confidence of people 
imparting the knowledge that it will benefit future generations of their people. 
Music is an important part of most M ori gatherings and it is important that music is 
included in M ori language programmes as it helps the process of learning the language. 
When I developed the third book in the collection, Te M huri, Hirini Melbourne wrote 
the narrative about traditional M ori musical instruments. He also features on some of the 
Te Whanake videotapes discussing and playing the traditional instruments.  
Hirini Melbourne died at the beginning of 2003 at the young age of fifty-two. A native 
speaker of M ori and an academic at the University of Waikato, he was the single most 
important leader and researcher in the revival of the use of traditional M ori musical 
instruments. His method of researching and reviving the playing of the forgotten 
traditional musical instruments is an excellent example of indigenous research. He led a 
                                                
5
 Flintoff 2004: 10. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 184 
 
group of dedicated M ori music players and instrument makers, called Haumanu. By 
researching the written sources about the instruments and gathering snippets of oral 
information from a variety of people and M ori communities, Hirini and others have been 
able to revive the making and playing of the instruments.  
Hirini was a composer, singer and player of, initially the guitar, but later of the traditional 
instruments as well. He always composed and sang his songs in M ori in a style that 
appeals to both young and old. He began composing and singing his music in a popular 
modern style at a time when few were doing so in M ori. Compositions and music at that 
stage were mainly in the traditional M ori genre or in English. The lyrics of his 
compositions cover a range of topics, from songs about birds, insects and the natural 
environment to protest songs about the destruction of the environment and songs about, 
and using, the traditional instruments. Hirini was happy for me to use his recordings for 
the audio and videotaped materials of the Te Whanake series, and composed some songs 
specifically to complement the language topics in the collection.
 6
 
 
Several elements of Moorfield?s narrative stand out: the degree of institutionalization 
among M ori of the concept of tikanga as proper behavior for dealing with knowledge 
and heritage, especially as regards an individual ?repository?s? obligations (including 
accountability to host communities ? to both insiders and outsiders ? hapu, iwi and 
tauiwi); the importance of music in M ori culture; the relationship between music and 
M ori language; and his emphasis on Melbourne as the ?single most important leader and 
researcher? in the Taonga P oro movement. 
Melbourne?s leadership position and the contested aspects of Taonga P oro are less a 
matter of fact than of emphasis, and the construction of mattering maps that parse these 
differences as they play out interactively is a goal of this ethnography. Pakeha Richard 
Nunns?s influence on the Taonga P oro movement is seen by many as co-equal to that of 
Hirini Melbourne. 
                                                
6
 Moorfield 2006: 107. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 185 
 
Richard Nunns ? a Pakeha View of Taonga P oro  
Richard Nunns
7
 was born at the end of WWII to a musical family. His father, grand-
father, uncles and aunts were stalwarts of the English Brass Band tradition: 
I grew up in a musical family in a sense that my father was one of nine, seven brothers 
and two sisters. They virtually became the Gisborne City Silver Brass Band, the English 
brass band ? working class ethic. 
Nunns talked about his early trumpet studies, ?I was put on trumpet at age, oh about 
seven or eight, and had twenty, thirty years of brass.? But he rebelled against the brass 
band tradition, and his attraction for taonga p oro is a stark contrast to his visceral 
rejection of that tradition: 
I?m steeped in brass band stuff which genetically seems to move me every time hear a 
brass band ? I actually can?t stand [it]. I can?t stand the ethos, I can?t stand the ethic, I 
can?t stand the concept. 
 
His interest in taonga p oro was presaged by a fascination with jazz. He was introduced 
to jazz while attending teachers training college and was enthralled. He eventually left 
university and set out ? unsuccessfully ? to become a professional jazz musician: 
I starved and I had to take up a job in a foundry and I used to play a little at night. But I 
was playing an instrument that doesn?t really make money, trumpet playing of course, 
and I just wasn?t good enough. 
 
He returned to teachers training college, this time to study flute:  
I went to training college and I specialized in what they called a third-year music degree.
8
 
[This] gave me the opportunity to learn an instrument completely for gratis which was in 
                                                
7
 Unless otherwise noted, quotes in this section are Richard Nunns interviewed by H. Anderson, 3/17/2006. 
8
 Until 1975, the British National Advisory Council for the Training and Supply of Teachers divided 
training for ?specialist? music teachers into a five-tier system that New Zealand followed: ?The university 
graduate, the graduate equivalent, the holder of specialist qualifications recognized for qualified teacher 
status, the individual who had followed the two-year training course followed by a third year of 
?supplementary? training, and the ordinary two-year trained teacher.?  Lynch 2003: 67. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 186 
 
fact flutes. So I?m doubling on a very difficult embouchure switch, but it?s been my 
saving grace because my lips can do anything, can make a sound, I can do it.  
 
Nunns?s ability with both brass and flutes was to prove advantageous when it came to 
playing taonga p oro. 
After leaving training college, he played in various jazz and blues ensembles around New 
Zealand. He eventually wound up the Waikato region of the North Island where he was 
introduced to Te Ao M ori ? the M ori world ? while helping to build a marae: 
I began teaching in the Waikato and I became involved in the building of a marae. That 
connected me with a way of being in this country that I never knew existed which was 
this world that was inhabited by the t ngata whenua, which is M ori. Which is not to say 
that I wanted to be M ori. I was attracted to another way of being in this country that?s 
been here a lot longer than we have and I knew nothing whatsoever about it. So I brought 
an enormous curiosity to that and was welcomed to be a fellow journeyer in lots and lots 
of things. 
 
Nunns?s dates his early interest in M ori musical instruments by a clipping of a 1958 
article that he still has: 
I cut out an article and a page of photos of what were thought to be traditional 
instruments of the M ori, I would think from a collection here in Auckland. And the 
article saying ?we think they?re musical instruments, we don?t know. They?re very 
beautiful but we don?t know what they sound like; nobody knows anything about them,? 
and I still have the cuttings [from] 1958. 
 
In the late 1970s, Nunns got together with Brian Flintoff who was already making 
instruments. Melbourne joined up with them a couple of years later. Nunns pointed out 
that Melbourne came on first as a ?student? and that he was initially unable to play the 
instruments: 
The first w nanga or workshop for the revival of the instruments?was held at Te Araroa 
in 1981-82. Hirini came as a student and made a k auau and made a p torino and in his 
own words?he left ?unable to play,? also. 
  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 187 
 
Nunns?s narrative essentially casts himself, Flintoff and Melbourne as coequal. He talked 
about what each member brought to their synergistic relationship: 
The three of us with Brian?s manual skills and his lateral thinking ability to solve what 
seemed to be in some cases quite impossible acoustic conundrums, Hirini?s enormous 
traditional knowledge and traditional background ? his utter fluency in classical reo, his 
overflowing wellspring of musicianship?.  
We all brought very different things, sometimes slightly overlapping, we all brought very 
different things and nothing, well I don?t think that the journey we have traveled 
would?ve taken place if we hadn?t had that synergistic coalition of the three groupings of 
things. And ironically of course it?s easy to see, one M ori, two Pakeha but that?s the way 
of the new world. 
 
Nunns talked about Melbourne?s difficulties with coming to grips with taonga p oro 
wind instruments, saying that Melbourne?s skills were: 
Guitar based mainly ? nothing around the mouth. His learning job was really quite hard 
and anyone who knows wind playing would recognize it in his playing, that he was 
coming from behind the eight ball. It was all in his fingers, and it was all in his song 
forms that he had printed and the classical knowledge of M oridom, the beautiful poetry 
that made his songs so memorable and continue to be so memorable. 
 
In general Nunns situates himself at a vantage point outside of the M ori world. He does 
not want to ?be M ori,? and the ?reality? of his world is that M ori are outnumbered and 
that this is the norm, even in endeavors like reconstructing taonga p oro that focus on 
M ori tradition. Indeed Nunns tends to speak of M oritanga in general, nomothetic terms. 
This is particularly interesting in light of a typically idiographic orientation of traditional 
M ori, including Melbourne?s ?indigenous research? method.
9
  
Nunns?s insights and cricticisms of European understanding and appreciation of M ori 
music and culture also bear a generalist orientation. Speaking of deficiencies in early 
commentaries, Nunns draws distinctions between European and indigenous perspectives:  
                                                
9
 See Moorfield above, also Rangiiria Hedley below. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 188 
 
In terms of music, [Europeans] could only measure it and assess it and observe and 
comment on it from their own perspective which was: music was an entertainment, music 
was a past-time, music was a recreation. Now in an indigenous community, music is a 
functional, societal given without which things do not happen. By that I mean conception, 
birth, healing, growth of plants, crops, making the world turn from winter to spring again. 
Everything is predicated on a musical form. 
[To European ears] all these people seemed to be doing is singing endless and long, 
repetitive and often obscene lyrics that seemed on a monotone and they couldn?t hear the 
nuances and so on. 
 
Nunns often uses ? one might say imposes ? metaphors flowing from the language of 
contemporary information technology when he talks about taonga p oro. Speaking of the 
loss of carved instruments, he likens them to a computer archive: 
Not all, but most instruments were finely decorated ? deeply [inscribed] and that isn?t 
just pretty pictures. That?s your archive ? that?s your ?Windows file 1823.? It?s entirely 
your documentation and that is all gone. And now of course with such a break, we?ve got 
people who can only generally read those, the specificness [sic] of the information. The 
documentation is lost because we haven?t got that connecting thread. 
 
Nunns says that historically taonga p oro were not used in public performance: 
Of course the metaphor that I use about the use of the taonga is that they were in fact a 
?cell phone to the divine? ? they were an enclosed activity; we think [they were] largely 
in use by the tohunga ? they were part of his tool kit, a natural part of his tool kit. It 
wasn?t exceptional, it was just what tohunga were trained to do. It was intimate and it was 
not about performance. 
 
Extending the cell phone metaphor, he says that the way he and others are using taonga 
p oro is ?ironic?: 
[Using taonga p oro in performance] is a huge irony?what I and others are doing today 
by gracing stages and recording some films and so on. They were not about 
performance?to large [audiences] at all. Really they created this fiber-optic cable, this 
connecting thread between te ira t ngata, the world that we can see, the temporal, and te 
ira Atua. And [taonga p oro is] the thread between [the two]?. 
 
The ?irony? that Nunns points does not seem to require reconciliation or rationalization 
? for him it would seem to be only a ?reality? of the modern world, a preset condition 
that provides opportunities but does not demand closer examination. For Nunns, Taonga 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 189 
 
P oro is a practical recovery ? a salvage operation that requires reconstruction of 
instrument construction and playing technique by reverse engineering, based largely on 
still extant song forms, vocal forms that have survived as the ?voice? of M ori people: 
It is a recovery. We can only save, and we?ll go from the arse end and bring it around the 
front. People say ?how do you know?? and in actual fact to tell the truth, we can?t. There 
is no living thread, there is no continuing thread. What we do [have], given that the 
missionaries couldn?t haul the voice out ? they could take away the instruments, they 
could take away a lot of stuff but you can?t cut peoples voice boxes ? you can?t have a 
mute community. So the m teatea forms ? the song forms, the waiata ? continued and 
still [do]. It?s stronger in some areas than others. But what that meant for us is we have in 
fact a working template of melodic forms. [Some might say] there are only so many 
things you can do with these seemingly unsophisticated instruments. ?I would argue the 
reverse, [that] they are sophisticated vehicles for the song form for which they were 
created, but there are only a certain number of things you can do. 
  
The lack of a ?living thread? seems to leave a vacuum that is filled by the new 
practitioners. Melbourne?s ?indigenous research? and community responsibility is cast 
differently by Nunns. Nunns talked about a kind of community ?audit? as an important 
aspect of their research method. For him this audit involves reading the reactions of 
people in response to the instruments, the stories, and the sounds (as performed by Nunns 
and Melbourne) as a measure of their correctness: 
We are in constant audit [by] the community itself, which is not without fault because 
most or in fact all of the people we have spoken to grew up without hearing these 
[instruments]. They were only giving us fragments of knowledge from great grandparents 
and stuff, so how do they know? But we are in constant audit [with those] to whom these 
[instruments] belong or at least to whom the sound world belongs. And their tears, their 
emotion, their embracing tells us that we are in an ever-narrowing vector of probability. 
 
This ?audit? establishes the validity of the Taonga P oro movement ? its ?authenticity,? 
as it were, but does not necessarily maintain, establish, or even disestablish a proprietary 
relationship between the communities and the objects of the research. Indeed Nunns 
seems mute if not neutral on matters of cultural ownership or a community?s investment 
or potential stake in Taonga P oro.    
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 190 
 
Clues to Nunns?s stake emerge from his attitude to past researchers. He is both respectful 
and critical of Mervyn McLean?s work: 
We have very old-school workers like Mervyn Mclean who is very suspect about our 
work. Partly, I would have to say, it?s because Mervyn?s work is pioneering. There?s no 
question that he?s been a pioneer in the work he?s done on songs and the work he?s done 
on a whole bunch of things is absolutely pioneering. I take my hat off. 
Nunns?s criticism of McLean is centered around McLean?s criticisms of Nunns vis ? vis 
the validity of the application of ?aesthetics? in creative (re-) constructions of the 
instruments, and the validity of Nunns?s informants ?memories? and their testimonies:  
In terms of [McLean?s] inability to be creative?he says things like ?aesthetics aside.? 
Well work with the taonga is totally about aesthetics. Also he claims that he spoke to 
everyone who knew everything about the instrument ? and that?s about four people. 
Well that?s bullshit and we?ve shown that knowledge within an indigenous community is 
collective ? it?s collegial. 
 
Nunns?s references to ?creativity? and ?aesthetics? seem an indication of what he 
considers to be his input ? where Nunns himself adds value ? to taonga p oro.  
Another clue comes from the way in which Nunns derives authority ? how he sees 
himself as a ?repository,? and how he goes about reconciling his own skepticism and 
assessing the validity of other people?s testimony: 
You will go to a session and run a presentation and then people will start. ?Well what 
about [what] my people say? ? and you know from what you?ve read that they?re 
parroting Best.
10
 And somebody else will say, ?Well in our area,? and then suddenly the 
collectivity of it starts to flow and a weave comes up. Of course the other thing about 
indigenous knowledge is that it?s malleable, that it?s plastic. There?s a way in which it 
molds and morphs. I would hold thirty or forty stories for k auau, all of which are true 
for the group, family, valley, community, hap , iwi that told you. If you can?t learn to 
live with all the knowledges then, man, your life span, and your shelf-life within an 
indigenous community is severely limited. In fact it is to takahi a te mana [?trample on 
the pride? or ?dignity?] of the people?which in fact is what universities do all the time, 
[saying] ?well that sounds shonky.? Then you do the synthetic thing and say, ?Yeah, we 
think this is the right way.? We have learned over time to accept with gratitude and hold 
on to everything you?ve got, no matter how off-the-wall one or two pieces might be, 
                                                
10
 Elsdon Best?s accounts of M ori instruments. See Best 1925. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 191 
 
because in four or five years time it turns around and bites you in the bum because they 
were right. 
 
While Nunns validates the testimony of people within the communities, he reacts against 
criticism from ?students? that he feels are blocking his (and Flintoff?s) efforts, 
particularly since Hirini Melbourne?s death in 2003: 
There are some very funny things that are happening that need talking about. We?ve got 
students, and you?re in contact with a lot of them ? who in fact are becoming middle-
ranked bureaucrats who are stifling funding wherever our names are involved (like Brian 
and myself) without the brokerage of Hirini. They are cutting us out of the loop for their 
own reasons. I can?t really find out the absolute why ? but it flies in the face of his 
counseling. 
 
Nunns invokes Melbourne as a source of his own authority or mana as he chastises 
people who may be reluctant to acknowledge Nunns?s authority and the appropriateness 
of him taking the leadership position in the Taonga P oro movement: 
We are too small, we are too few and in fact he [Hirini] has said, ?like it or not, we can?t 
know why the gift has passed over us? and been given to Richard ? which is very 
flattering of him. But I can?t say why either. And also the knowledge that has been 
purveyed?is really only what Hirini and I and Brian have garnered. 
 
Nunns wrestles with the criticism that he feels has been levied against him: 
In one or two cases I?ve gently taken them straight on and ask,?What?s going on, why are 
you doing this?? And they won?t give me a straight answer or they won?t say. I know 
Horomona [Horo] and James [Webster] are constantly counseled to be careful of working 
with me and Brian. I can?t do anything other than what I do. I triple-think my way 
through, as you have to, in terms of sensitivity. 
 
He casts his understanding in terms of his own construction of the nature of M ori 
culture: 
I have my own thinking about the way in which M ori as a culture works, which is to 
constantly challenge and constantly test. The moment you think everything is sweet, you 
know that the next time there will be an eruption; there?ll be some explosion in front of 
you in a minefield that for P keha is totally undetectable. So if you don?t like it you get 
out. Otherwise you stay in there and somehow work with the explosions and the storms 
knowing that they are continual tests. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 192 
 
Nunns feels that he is the only person who is able to do what he does with taonga p oro 
and that his ?unique? ability affords him a certain status and a level of protection against 
his critics: 
Without being whakah h , grandiose about one?s self, ? I kind of [feel that] in a way, not 
withstanding what I?ve just been talking about ? some of the dismaying things that do 
happen on occasions ? [that] we are hugely respected and held [in esteem] elsewhere ? 
is that I am kind of protected in a way. Because at the moment ? and it is a sad and 
pathetic statement ? at the moment I am the only one who can do what I can do. And 
while yes we teach and we work with people like Horomona and James who I think 
hugely highly of ? they?re gonna be the keepers of the flame ? purely by experiential, 
purely by age and possibly some skill, basically I?m the only one who can do the range of 
activities that I do. 
 
He credits his success in creating a niche for himself with taonga p oro to a variety of 
skills. Speaking of his retirement from teaching English for 36 years, he said: 
Of course it?s given me a huge bunch of skills as well. ?I have a broad span of things 
that allow me to function within the world. I can do the academic thing, and that gets me 
into Europe and recompense ? this small living thing that I?m trying to do. It means I 
can talk to many different peoples from four-year olds to academics. My earlier music 
experience means that I can slot into orchestral situations, it means I can slot into 
chamber music situations, it means that I can do R&B, means that I can do the traditional 
stuff, means that I can do what you heard last night, means that I can bloody stand in the 
Red Rose in London with Evan Parker and hold my own or go to New York and work 
with Marilyn Crispell. And all of these I cherish. It means that I can do the electronic 
stuff, it means I can do film stuff, it means that I?ve got this kaleidoscope of activity 
which means the phone is always going. 
 
Nunns attributes his success to being in touch with New Zealand?s ?sound world,? a 
concept that includes notions of music and musical instruments and which he feels that 
others, particularly Mervyn McLean may disdain: 
Life is very rich and very full and it is entirely to do with being in touch with the sound 
world of this country and that?s part of how I see myself. ?We get [criticism] from 
people like Mervyn for including instruments or including sound makers or whatever it is 
they call them ? God knows what the distinction is ? [for] including sound makers into 
the canon of instruments. Whereas there might be a little leaf that?s tapped, something 
that?s flicked?or some technique that you do with your mouth, we consider that to be a 
part of the sound world and the traditional sound world of [this] country. 
 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 193 
 
Nunns attributes the source of his authority to dreams. He cites a kuia (old woman) from 
Whangara to support the notion that valuable things (taonga) have a kind of life of their 
own, and that they in some sense choose how and when to emerge: 
I was at Whangara getting a moko done [and] we were talking about the upsurge of moko 
and this kuia was sitting there saying, ?I believe that things of value are never lost,? that 
in fact they submerge for a while, they go to sleep for a while and then, when the time is 
right, they in fact up-well and surge again. Then, looking very deliberately at me, [she 
says,] ?Sometimes in very mysterious ways or in strange forms or whatever.? 
 
He feels that knowledge of how the instruments should be held and played has come 
directly from his dreams: 
I?ve known for a very long time ? not traditional knowledge, not knowledge of how they 
were used in community, but in fact a practical knowledge of how they should be held 
and breathed in voice. Now that?s come to me in a series of literal dreams.  
 
He is particularly antipathetic to being labeled ?New Age,? and says that giving cogency 
to dreams is not a normal activity for Pakeha males: 
It?s completely ?bloody Nunns has gone bush,? stuff. ?Nunns has gone completely over 
the top.? It?s not done for p keha males to talk about dreams. 
 
But he finds validation in the reception he has received from M ori ?mentors? when he 
has explained himself in terms of his dreams: 
Eventually I got brave enough ? I was sitting with some mentors of mine, and that had 
come up and?[someone said], ?Who taught you?? I said, ?Well, taku m tauranga he 
haere ki te moemoe ? [?my knowledge came as I slept?]. That, in fact what, I know of 
how they should be held and played and caressed in the voice has come to me in a series 
of dreams. Now their reaction ? this is what?s important, their reaction ? ?ahh,? and 
then back to the cards. ?There was a relief and a total acceptance of an information 
system. No other comment ? back to the cards and back to the cup of tea. And that?s the 
only reason I tell that and that?s because I?ve been very leery of that kind of thing 
because people immediately put you into a New Age freako bag. 
 
Ultimately Nunns derives authority by strategically positioning himself institutionally in 
more than one world. At various times he cites European academics, dreams, aesthetics, 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 194 
 
M ori mentors, and Hirini Melbourne as sources of his authority and influence. This 
dynamic positioning and the inconsistency (if not cognitive dissonance) it implies would 
seem not atypical among Pakeha New Zealanders (see Chapter Two). Most notably, 
while he is certainly aware of the specific origins of taonga p oro and their stories and 
M ori emphasis on matters of (specific) place and kinship, Nunns?s narrative is general in 
scope and focus. I will further explore the institutional dimensions of this disposition in 
the concluding chapter of this dissertation. 
Next I look at a contrasting view of Taonga P oro. 
Rangiiria Hedley ? A M ori Traditional View 
I first met Rangiiria Hedley in 1999 when I was the Mozart Fellow in the Music 
Department at Otago University while she was resident in Otago?s M ori Studies Depart-
ment. Hedley and I were introduced by a mutual friend, Bernard Makoare, with whom I 
had toured a program on M ori and African American musics and culture the previous 
year. Both Hedley and Makoare had been members of the Haumanu group led by Hirini 
Melbourne for some time. I interviewed Hedley at my home in Auckland in April 2006, 
shortly before returning to the United States. 
Rangiiria Hedley?s
11
 orientation to the Taonga P oro movement flows from a traditional, 
locally-based understanding that has been further developed, nurtured, and mediated in 
an academic environment. Her interest in Taonga P oro was born during the M ori 
renaissance movement of the 1970s and 1980s. For her, Taonga P oro is a natural part of 
                                                
11
 Unless otherwise noted, quotes in this section are Rangiiria Hedley interviewed by H. Anderson, 
4/24/2006. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 195 
 
a general resurgence and recovery of M ori language and culture. This renaissance has 
deep personal significance for Hedley ? her first language was M ori, but she says Te 
Reo was suppressed at primary school: 
Well I went to school?at a time when we weren?t allowed to speak English. I can 
remember at this school, it was a rural school, Kuratau M ori School
12
 it was called. Now 
it?s just Kuratau School. When it was Kuratau M ori School, we were still speaking 
M ori. The teacher of the time, he absolutely forbade M ori in the school. ?When the 
kids who were older than us would say some things in M ori, we saw them getting the 
strap and so we just sort of flipped over. 
  
The experience signaled an interruption in Hedley?s M ori language development. How-
ever, after moving around, completing school and starting a family, Hedley returned to 
her home area and became an active participant in the M ori Language/Te Reo 
movement as a Kohanga Reo teacher. At the encouragement of her local community 
people at Papakai Marae, Hedley went on to obtain a Certificate of M ori Studies at 
Waikato University in 1987 and she subsequently enrolled in the inaugural Te Tohu 
Paetahi course, an intensive three-year program at the University of Waikato where stu-
dents develop the ?ability to converse, understand, read, and write in M ori and under-
stand M ori protocol and culture.?
13
 Four members of that first class, including Hedley, 
currently are lecturers at Waikato University in the M ori Studies Department. 
Hedley traces her involvement with the Taonga P oro movement to an encounter with 
Hirini Melbourne at a 1984 hui on M ori language revitalization. She was familiar with 
Melbourne?s lyrics and music dealing with M ori creation stories and the natural envi-
ronment. ?It was at the [Papakai Marae Kohanga Reo],? she says, ?that we started 
                                                
12
 Kuratau M ori School opened in October 1957. ?A M ori School for New Farms at Kuratau,? J. Crabbe, 
Te Ao Hau, No. 24 October 1958. 
13
 http://www.waikato.ac.nz/smpd/programmes/tetohupaetahi.shtml, 10/28/07. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 196 
 
playing these tapes of birds, trees and insects of Maui sung by Melbourne.? After a 
demonstration of taonga p oro, Melbourne noticed her measuring his instruments: 
He was watching me and he came over later and he goes, ?Oh yeah are you interested in 
these?? And I go, ?yeah? and he goes, ?why?? I said, ?I want an alternative to the guitar, 
you know, Kohanga Reo ? we must have something traditional.? 
 
Hedley talked to me about Melbourne?s language ability, knowledge of tikanga and his 
sensitivity were the key to eliciting (hidden) knowledge about the instruments from 
M ori who are known for a certain cultural reticence or reluctance to share cultural 
knowledge ? frequently the subject matter of waiata, moteatea and M ori music in 
general ? with outsiders.
14
 Using local variations of powhiri procedures, Hedley pointed 
out that knowledge of tikanga is acquired through lived experience: 
It?s where you move around the country that you have to adopt something else, that?s the 
tikanga. So you go, you?re lining up at the gate to go onto the marae [this is a description 
of a powhiri] and you always hear the man at the back going, ?Oh what?s this ? is it 
tauutuutu
15
 or is it paekeeke??
16
 which means do they speak first and then us or one on 
one. Is it the one on one or is it the line, the line.  
 
                                                
14
 Speaking of a reluctance on the part of M ori to ?perform? their culture to outside audiences in 
?Sovereignity or the Art of Being Native,? Turner asks: ?What if the subaltern native, rather than being 
unable to speak, was evidently disinclined to speak or to appear visible? Is more objective history only ever 
available to the extent that the native is prepared to perform him- or herself for others? The desire for 
greater historical self-consciousness, a more objective sense of world history or historical process, might be 
a reason for promoting the visibility of indigenous peoples alongside the phenomena of global or 
postmodern culture. Yet the fourth world of history, and the issue of sovereignty it raises, ensures that there 
is more at stake than visibility or knowledge for its own sake. Greater historical self-consciousness does not 
mean greater knowledge, but an awareness of other kinds of claims to know ? the stakes of sovereignty, 
perhaps a reticence.? Turner 2002: 93. 
15
 Literally ?reciprocity,? in the context of a powhiri, tauutuutu refers to a locally applied convention 
(kawe) of alternating speakers with tangata whenua (?home person?) speaking first, followed by a manuhiri 
(?visitor?) speaker, et cetera. 
16
 All of the tangata whenua speakers go first, then the manuhiri. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 197 
 
In order to acquire a global feel for M ori customs, a would-be adept must travel and be 
alert to differences between local practices and remember the variations. Even though the 
conventions may be unusual or unexpected to someone not from that place:  
You just respect it all and try and remember for the next time when in 20 years time you 
go back on to the same place and you say, ?I remember coming here and you did this and 
that.? So this is how they knew what kind of tikanga there were. 
 
These practices are garnered from direct experience of people and ancient, unbroken 
practice, not from academics:  
It began way, way back, not at University you know [Laughter], not with early European 
writers either.?It wasn?t Ann Salmond and her book Hui
17
?. Hirini taught me that. 
Hirini taught me to be quiet ? I mean I knew that anyway, you just shut up. But I 
watched him and he already knew what they were saying but he?d humbly sit there and 
say, ?Oh yes, oh yeah.? Bringing out the instruments that he wasn?t familiar with 
(because museums weren?t either). So he?d take them to a hui and put it on the table, he?d 
have a little display of his?instruments and then he?d put that on the table. Then 
someone would come from somewhere around the country and say, ?That?s a such and 
such.? [That?s how] he built up his [knowledge base]. 
 
Ultimately Melbourne?s effectiveness was the result of his ability to recognize, interpret, 
and acknowledge the essentially oral and idiographic institutions that underlie M ori 
culture at large.  
Issues of Place, Propriety and ?Authority? 
In general M ori processes of proper protocol ? kaupapa ? require a great deal of 
patience in order to resolve issues of authority and propriety (tikanga). Many M ori, 
including Hedley, feel that Melbourne?s death signaled the loss of meticulous attention to 
matters of protocol and respect for local people and proper authority at Taonga P oro 
gatherings: 
                                                
17
 See Salmond 1975. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 198 
 
He never ever went in without being invited; he never took himself into a tribal area to 
have a hui unless he was sure that there was someone from that place who would take 
him. He would always come home to Waihi, he would always come into Tuwharetoa for 
hui; but he would never go for a swim in the lake or to the hot pools unless someone from 
there took him. You know, you get these guys now who bloody just go there and have a 
hui. That?s what makes me sick. They go, ?We are going to have a hui here because we 
want to and because it?s beautiful.? And then they get the wrong person, the person who 
they say is supposed to be from there who says, ?Oh yeah I?m from that Marae.? And 
they?re not. Now these are the problems that we?re having now that Hirini?s gone. 
 
For Hedley, taonga p oro ? consistent with the definition of taonga as treasures 
belonging the M ori people (see Figure 1, Hedley playing one of these lost treasures, the 
p t rino), and as set out in the Treaty of Waitangi ? belong to some local group, and the 
decision to share those taonga is to be determined by those people. Practically speaking, 
this means that researchers must accept that some groups will not submit to a 
standardized process of discovery:  
For those of us who choose not to have as many hui as has been had, we?re trying to find 
a way ? yes, there?s a way for us. Hirini showed us. Hirini led us. These [instrumental 
voices] are what?s missing in our iwi. These are the voices that have been lost, these are 
the voices that we?re reviving, these are the voices that our old people were familiar 
with.? That?s what he showed us. His singing was another piece of [this].? But to bring 
the life back into what was lost, instruments that we lost, he was saying to us that there?s 
something in your tribe that you haven?t found. Go and look for it. ?You [don?t] have to 
share it, just share it if you want to, and keep some for yourself. 
 
 
Figure 1. Rangiiria Hedley plays p t rino. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 199 
 
As I have already noted, the concept of retaining cultural property is implicit in the term 
taonga, particularly as it is used in the Treaty of Waitangi.
18
 Retention of waiata and 
resistance to their redistribution (and the resulting possibility of their loss or extinction) is 
evident in earlier ethnographies. Mervyn McLean describes encountering a M ori belief 
he calls the ?empty barrel?: 
Songs were thought of as if they were physical objects or pieces of material property 
which, once given away, were gone. ?As each song was transferred to its new owner, 
the contents of the barrel shrank closer to the bottom. So long as there were still some 
songs in the barrel, it seems all was well, but when the last one was given away the barrel 
was completely empty and could not be refilled.
19
  
 
In order to be ?safe,? a person acting on another?s tribal ground must seek guidance from 
someone who is of that place. Hedley talked about seeking local authority for an 
upcoming M ori New Year celebration at the Auckland War Memorial Museum: 
We?ve got a Matariki [M ori New Year
20
] celebration up in Auckland Museum because 
I?m working there. ?Bernard [Makoare] is from Ngati Whatua, that?s the Mana whenua 
[customary authority of an iwi or a hapu in a specific area] aye, Ngati Whatua?and 
Tainui.
21
  So when they ask me to do stuff, I have to ask Bernard because n na te whenua 
[?It?s his land? or ?turf?]. It keeps me safe, and that?s all it is, all about being safe. You 
can go around the country and do this and that, but you gotta be safe and that?s what 
Hirini did. He did that all the time. Heaps of times he?d come and he?d go, ?You going to 
take me for a swim in your swimming pool?? He meant [Lake] Taupo. 
 
                                                
18
 See Chapter Two. 
19
 McLean 2004: 72-73. 
20
 M ori New Year is marked by the first new moon following the rise of the constellation (the Pleiades or 
the Seven Sisters) of the same name. Matariki rises at the end of May and the new moon usually follows in 
early June. 
21
 These are the two main iwi associated with the Auckland area. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 200 
 
The concept of cultural safety flows from the need for M ori to manage encounters 
between groups. Indeed the purpose of rituals like powhiri is to maintain balance (ea) and 
reciprocity (utu) in such encounters.
22
  
Hedley bases her understanding of taonga p oro on M ori language and customs in 
general. She feels there is a tension between traditional and contemporary understandings 
of the term ?taonga p oro? and that contemporary usage sometimes reverses the 
instruments? traditional role:  
Taonga p oro is ?traditional M ori musical instruments.? I think it?s not a very good 
translation: p oro, as [in] ?pu? and ?oro.??If I clap my hands, there?s two things coming 
together that produce sound [claps her hands] and that?s the clap. So the source ? the p  
? is my hands and the oro is the sound that it gives off. Now taonga p oro ? with the 
p torino
23
 is the treasured voice of the torino. ?That?s the translation of taonga ? 
something that?s treasured. You blow it, that?s the voice of the instrument. The spiritual 
thing of the instrument is what the player plays and where it takes the listener. 
Today it appears that taonga p oro are for entertainment, things to sing with, things to 
relax with. That?s fine ? you?re getting there when it makes you relax. [But] they had an 
integral part to play in the community first ? entertainment was the least [of it]. But 
today it?s flipped over. For instance?the p tatara in the Ko Tawa exhibition,
24
 whose 
name is Te Awa o te Atua. The shell was found by Tuwharetoa (the man) at a beach in 
Matata at a place called Te Awa o Te Atua [The river of the God].? It was where they 
had the big catastrophe in Matata and the land gave way and it flooded and wasted a lot 
of the houses there and the community was in disarray.? Now [Tuwharetoa] found the 
shell there, he made a mouthpiece and it was used. Over time, it made its way inland [and 
it came to be] held by the Te Heuheu family. Then when Gilbert Mair was making his 
rounds around the country, that was the most treasured thing for Ngati Tuwharetoa [the 
tribe or ?iwi?]. Now that p tatara was blown when the first [child of a chief was] born? 
And [it was blown] when he died, when there were hui on the marae ? it was kind of 
like a Morse code. That?s what it was used for. Today you see it on the stage, [during] 
kapa haka [performances], or you hear it on CDs because it?s got this mysterious voice. 
 
                                                
22
 See Mead 2003. 
23
 A carved wooden instrument that has multiple voices and playing techniques ? comparable to both a 
flute and a trumpet. 
24
 The Ko Tawa Exhibition is a collection of M ori artifacts that were originally collected by Captain 
Gilbert Mair, who traveled widely throughout North Island New Zealand as a representative of the Crown 
during and subsequent to the Land Wars from 1865 until his death in 1923. His collection of taonga is held 
at the Auckland War Memorial Museum and, after extensive negotiation with the originating iwi of the 
taonga, was toured in New Zealand and Australia beginning in 2006. See Tapsell 2006. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 201 
 
Even though she employs the same ?morse code? metaphor as Nunns, Hedley?s narrative 
stresses connections between the artifact, its place, its original owners, and how they used 
it. She is dubious about the appropriation of the taonga by outsiders and Hedley noted the 
exotic appeal of taonga p oro and their potential for exploitation for ?World Music?:  
The other thing about taonga p oro is that we?re the last of the indigenous peoples whose 
things weren?t used overseas and they seem to want to tap into that source ? that sound 
source. 
 
Speaking of M ori participation in the Taonga P oro movement and its origins, Hedley 
talked about a hui (?gathering?) convened by Joe Malcolm (?Koauau Joe?) at Te Kaha on 
the East Coast of the North Island.  
I always make this point: if it wasn?t for Joe Malcolm at that time to begin the revival of 
Taonga P oro, it may have started later. Joe Malcolm started all those many years ago.? 
Uncle Joe is a Te Arawa man, a Te Arawa kaumatua [?elder?], advanced in his years. 
?He?d be over 70 I?d say. There was a hui that he was holding in Te Kaha ? you 
would?ve heard about that, way back in the 70s ? and Hirini heard about it. Of course 
Richard Nunns and Brian Flintoff heard about it?and they met there.
25
 And so it was Joe 
Malcolm that began [the movement]?because he loved the koauau. He still does?. 
Then Syd [?Hirini? is the M orized form of Sydney] and Richard hooked up and then 
[Hirini] realized Brian [Flintoff] was a carver and he thought, ?Oh yeah, ka pai this? 
[?this is good.?] Now he had these two pakeha, [and he thought], ?Where?s the M oris?? 
And he went hunting. When I say hunting I mean over time he sussed everyone out like 
me. 
 
Hedley emphasizes M ori sources ? ?Koauau Joe? Malcolm and Hirini Melbourne as 
the progenitors of the movement. This is in contrast to Richard Nunns, who has cited 
                                                
25
 Hedley may have conflated two related events here. In 1973, Ng  Puna Waihanga, a national organi-
zation of M ori artists and writers, convened for the first time at Te Kaha. Several prominent M ori artists, 
including Hirini Melbourne, were in attendance. These artists and writers continue to be highly influential 
in the M ori renaissance movement. Another important hui for the Taonga P oro movement, was held at 
Te Araroa (about 50 miles from Te Kaha around the East Cape of New Zealand) in 1983. Joe Malcolm, 
Hirini Melbourne, Richard Nunns and Brian Flintoff were in attendance. While I have not been able to 
establish whether Joe Malcolm was in attendance at the 1973 gathering, it is clear that he was teaching 
koauau to groups of students at least as early as 1982. See Greenwood 1999: 54. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 202 
 
Malcolm as a source for M ori matauranga,
26
 but doesn?t emphasize his role as a player 
or in the development of the taonga p oro movement.  
Traditional M ori perspectives on recognition, authority, and authenticity generally refer 
to a different set of institutions than non-M ori or even M ori who have not been raised 
in traditional circumstances. Hedley also talked about the difficulties that urban M ori 
have with recognition, authority, and authenticity in a marae setting. Recognition and 
authority are derived from the community and require an individual to establish a history 
with a community. ?Home? is defined by your relationships with whanau (family) and 
relations in the marae setting, but many urban M ori have not sufficiently developed 
these relationships:  
For the urban guys, they are hardly home. It?s like the fires have gone out, that?s where 
the Ahi k 
27
 thing is. You don?t go home enough or your parents don?t take you home 
and the people know the parents but they don?t know the kids. Then you go home and 
they think you?re a smart aleck and they wont listen to you ? they refuse.  
 
Academic and other qualifications are not a substitute for history on the marae:  
I?ve had cousins come to me. [They] grew up in the city, in Christchurch and they said to 
me that they want to go home to Tuwharetoa because the koro [grandfather] is buried 
there. And I go, ?Oh ok ? good on you.? And then he goes, ?Yeah and I want to work on 
the trust board. I think we need to do this this and this.? And I say, ?Wait on boy ? you 
go home and you work in the wharekai [?food house? ? dining hall and kitchen] for two 
years first.? He goes, ?yeah?? I go, ?Don?t you open your mouth ? they?ll slam the door 
in you face. And don?t be skiting about your BA and your MA either ? you?re nothing 
on the marae. That means nothing. You come here with a MA or a BA [and if] you can?t 
provide a trout and a potato [then] get the hell out of it.? 
 
                                                
26
 See Nunns 2001. 
27
 Ahi k  ? ?burning fire? ? refers to a political movement for M ori land rights and refers specifically to 
continuous occupation (ahi k  roa ? ?long-burning fire? or ancestral right) of lands. Such fires were both 
symbolic and physical emblems of mana over the land. The ability to light fires, and so to prove strength of 
tenure, established rights to land. Where a group abandoned the land so that their fires died out and were 
not rekindled, such rights were disestablished. www.waitangi-tribunal.govt.nz 11/20/2007. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 203 
 
Relationships are ultimately developed by a person?s actions in a community and 
recognition comes in a timeframe determined by that community. Hedley cited a 
whakatauki that sets out a fundamental M ori value:  
?K re mo te k mara e k rero mo t na ake reka.? It?s not for the kumara to speak of his 
own sweetness ? let someone else say it. 
 
Hedley talked about Richard Nunns:  
In the early days ? when he was with Hirini and playing with Hirini ? he was fantastic. 
He was absolutely marvelous. We just so took him with open arms because of where he 
stood ? he was at the back all the time, he?d never speak out of turn, he would let Hirini 
do everything. He was a humble man. 
 
Since Melbourne?s death, Hedley reports that Nunns is now seen as positioning himself 
inappropriately by ?elbowing his way to the front? after having ?sat in the back? while 
Melbourne took the lead in M ori communities when the research was done.  
Hedley talked about a basic difference in approach and playing style with Nunns:  
I don?t want to be too harsh to Richard because he?s a musician in his own way. You 
press play, he plays. You press rewind, he?ll go back and start again. Where as we can?t 
because we?re guided ? I never play the same tune [twice], you know.? [If] they?re 
going to make me play live, I?ve got to remember to have three [phrases] there and then 
one and two and [so] I write my own music sheet out, which will be just like these little 
knobby things ? you know, how the land goes. You?sing the landscape.? For every 
instrument I pick up and I play, they [the instruments] choose the tune.? My students 
say, ?Teach me to play that.? And I say, ?No ? you let yourself be guided.? 
 
The process of ?being guided? by the instrument is rooted in traditional narratives and 
Hedley conceives of the instruments in terms of their whakapapa. She described Maui 
and his brothers, the atua associated with the kouaua: 
This hole in the front, his name is Maui Mua. This one here is Maui Roto, this one here is 
Maui Taha, (taha meaning ?side?) ? the taha that?s closest to you the player. By 
manipulating these atua then you get the reo that you want. All you?re doing is blowing. 
You manipulate these atua, they?ll force [the sound] out. The hardest one to play is Maui 
Taha. Why? Because he?s the first one to grasp the breath you know, he?s right there. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 204 
 
?Stop, I?m not passing it on to you guys.? ?Real typical in the flute. And the one in the 
middle is the pacifier. ?He says, ?Come on, let it come through.? So Maui Taha will 
play his note and Maui Roto, who will pass it on to Maui Mua, who?s impatient because 
he?s the one right at the end to push out the last one. He?s got the privilege of passing the 
tune on. Mau Taha, he?s got the privilege of grabbing the breath first. Mau Roto, well he 
keeps the peace. So it?s those things that are not done or not considered. Once the 
students know that, you see them go away and talk. It?s funny?they talk to these little 
finger holes. 
 
She went on to tell the story of the ?tradition of the bone? that the kouaua is made from:  
Maui?had a brother-in-law who married his sister Hinauri ? Irawaru was his name, he 
was an excellent man, whatever he did, he did well. Whatever he accomplished, he 
accomplished well, even better then Maui did. And Maui was all about Maui ? he 
wanted to do everything, conquer the sun and so on. He wanted to accomplish all these 
feats and yet here was his brother-in-law, not trying and yet he was good at it. So Maui 
got harawene (jealous) and went out fishing with Irawaru, who was catching all these 
fish. So Maui drowned him ? well, he tried to. And Irawaru said, ?Hey bro, what?s the 
matter? You went home and you left me out at sea. I had to swim back.? Well Maui made 
up heaps of excuses. Then another day he says, ?Come on let?s go out.? And he was still 
mad at him and he turned him into a dog out at sea. Hinauri and him were in love, totally 
in love. She ran down to the beach and out jumped this dog, jumping around her feet. 
?And she said, ?Maui Maui, where?s my husband?? And you know, there was this dog, 
?Au, au, au, au.? She realized what her brother had done and she went off and tried to 
commit suicide. (But she didn?t ? she lived and ended up playing another instrument. 
And anyway so we?ll park Hinauri ? she?s gone off to commit suicide.) The dog is still 
alive. Maui who was enraged [that he lost] his sister, blamed the dog. So he killed the 
dog, saying, ?It?s because of you, she?s committed suicide.? ?[Then he] took the [dog?s] 
bone and turned it into a flute. So that?s that tradition. And Maui is the player ? Maui 
Potiki. His three older brothers are the minders of the holes. And then you?ve got the one 
that?s the listener or the composer of song [who] was his older brother Maui Waho 
because he was the kaea [leader] of their group ? their haka group ? before Maui came 
along. So he?s the listener and the singer.  
 
Hedley points out that in Western narratives (by Mervyn McLean and others) these 
stories are left out:  
And so those traditions, where are they in the books? Nowhere. They talk about size and 
colour and texture and material and likened to this voice and they have one or two little 
stories but the traditions of those things or the stories [aren?t there]. 
 
Hedley talked about missing narratives and carving traditions in relation to constructing 
instruments. She feels that the stories of M ori carvers have been marginalized. She says, 
in describing [Pakeha carver] Brian Flintoff?s carving: 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 205 
 
[It?s] beautiful stuff ? but that?s a machine.? Those are missing ? the traditional 
carvers.? I don?t mean to say that Brian doesn?t know anything, because he probably 
went and asked around and read up and all that kind of thing. But these traditional ones 
? you know where I?m coming from?in terms of my tikanga ? that?s where they 
would be too. 
 
Speaking of M ori carver and taonga p oro maker and player, Bernard Makoare, she 
says: 
[He spits] on everything before he starts, you know. [He does] all these things that are 
unfamiliar to Pakeha eyes and understanding ? we do those things. 
 
Hedley?s comments sum up a M ori traditionalist view. Her comments come from the 
perspective of a person who was born and raised in a marae environment and whose 
understanding is based on an emic experience. For urban M ori, much of what is 
?natural? for traditional M ori is learned later in life. In the next section, I examine the 
testimony of Horomona Horo, who was raised in an urban environment and who has 
sought rediscover his M oriness through a variety of traditional and non-traditional 
means. 
Horomona Horo 
When I interviewed Horomona Horo, he was 27 years old. He was raised in an urban 
environment in rough circumstances and with little knowledge of M oritanga. His 
interest in taonga p oro has been an important factor in his rediscovery and 
reconstruction of his M ori roots and identity. Speaking of his tribal affiliations he says: 
I?m from the tribes of Ngapuhi, Taranaki and Ng ti Porou. And I also affiliate to my 
Scottish heritage and Irish and Portuguese heritage.  
 
He was born in Auckland and says he ?was brought up a sub-urban youth militant.? 
Experiencing taonga p oro helped spark Horo?s interest M ori language and led him to 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 206 
 
enroll in the Te Ataarangi M ori language course ? a community-based M ori language 
program based on a method developed in the 1970s by Katerina te Heikoko Mataira and 
Ngoingoi Pewhairangi to teach M ori to non-speaking M ori adults. The method stresses 
spoken language and the originators started by training native speakers of M ori to teach 
others. By emphasizing practical aspects of M ori use among native speakers, as opposed 
to taking an analytic ?academic? approach based on constructing grammars, the Ataa-
rangi method has become an important tool for revitalizing M ori language in a ?tradi-
tional? form.
28
 Horo is currently a youth co-ordinator and a primary school teacher at an 
immersion M ori School (?Kura Kaupapa M ori?), Te Kura o te Koutu, in the Rotorua 
area of the North Island and his involvement with Taonga P oro has resulted in a series 
of international performances. Horo described a difficult childhood and adolescence: 
I was actually brought up going to fifteen different schools. When I was brought up, we 
were moving quite a lot. I didn?t really know my M ori heritage until I left school and 
that?s when I finished school, when I was about fifteen or so. [I left] school at fifteen [and 
I] had gone to fifteen schools [Laughter].  [It] wasn?t a great experience. 
 
Horo talked about living a violent life and a personal crisis that led him to explore his 
M ori side: 
I was living in?Rotorua and at that time, I was actually going down the wrong track of 
life ? I never thought I?d make it to my 21
st
 [birthday]. I was always hanging out 
with?the wrong crowd. It was when I?nearly killed someone that I realized. When I 
[did] it, I felt really good about myself because of the life I was leading at the time. When 
I?put someone in?intensive care unit in one of the hospitals and [I] watched ? they 
were in there for quite a while. Something inside me ? I didn?t know at the time what it 
was ? it made me go home. And when I got home, I got a rude awakening, not so much 
physically but spiritually. A?whole heap of crazy things happened to me. And through 
that I ended up jumping on [enrolling in] a course in the Hokianga [that consisted of] a 
waka [?canoe?] voyage to all the marae in the Hokianga. Through that, I met quite a few 
people that are still close friends with me today. It was through their influences of 
showing me karakia M ori and respecting me in a sense of acknowledging me in M ori, 
helping me find out where I was from and basically giving me a sense of self-worthiness. 
                                                
28
 http://www.teataarangi.org.nz/about-te-ataarangi.html, 11/24/2007. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 207 
 
Horo talked about what it meant to grow up in one place and then go back to the place 
that you are ?from?: ?I suppose like anyone, If you?re brought up away from home, once 
you go back, you have that feeling inside you that you know you?re from there ?cause 
you can just feel something there.?? As he made connections with local M ori, he began 
to learn the language and this in turn led him to the k auau, his first experience with ng  
taonga p oro: 
I went up to Kaikohe ? that?s where my family?s from. At the time, to me it was just a 
hick old town that had no self-worthiness. It?s quite funny how much of a difference Te 
Ao M ori can make it. [It was] something that blinded me through my own eyesight once 
I found that spiritual connection. It just totally, the whole visual sense had changed, had 
taken that mat away from my eyes. At the time I didn?t know how to speak M ori so I 
learnt to say, ?Hello. How are you?? in M ori. And through that I met friends who had a 
k auau sitting on top of their fireplace. I?d pick it up, try and play and I just couldn?t get 
it, so I?d chuck it on the floor. And pick it up later on and chuck outside the 
window?because I hated not getting a sound. The owner of that k auau used to always 
moan at me and say, ?Horomona, put the k auau back when you use it. I always find it 
outside and on the floor!? It used to really annoy me and piss me off when I couldn?t get 
a sound out of this ? it was a bone, a dog?s bone. And I was just so [frustrated at] how a 
bone with a hollow middle?could be so hard to create a sound. It took me a couple of 
months and I got my first sound [and I] just never left it and that was just that kuri 
[?dog?] k auau. 
 
Horo got involved with a local group for indigenous youth which led him to his first 
hearing of Hirini Melbourne and Richard Nunns and taonga p oro on compact disk:  
I got involved with those particular youth at the time, and I entered a group called Te 
Ohonga Ake [?the awakening?], which is a youth group up there which is connected to 
youth groups all around the world through the indigenous youth campaign and 
indigenous youth conferences. And through that I got to go to Holland the following year, 
in ?98. I went to Holland and we stayed in Amsterdam. ?We communicated and shared 
knowledge with other indigenous cultures from the Australian Aborigines to the 
[Mailuku] people of the Spice Islands. ?One of the other ambassadors of New 
Zealand?had taken over some CDs of Te Ku Te Whe of Hirini and Richard?s. And 
funnily enough, that was the first place I ever heard Taonga P oro being played on CD. I 
happened to be smack bang on the other side of the planet and it gave my inner-self that 
awakening again. 
 
 
 
 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 208 
 
After his return to New Zealand from Holland, Horo sought to hear and learn more of 
taonga p oro: 
I actually went in and scored Toiapiapi, which is a book written by Hirini. It?s one of his 
first books him and Richard [published]?showing pictures of Taonga P oro, the 
different meanings and knowledge that they had at that time.?  
 
The bilingual (English and M ori) text of Toiapiapi was important for Horo: 
The good thing about Matua Hirini is with Toiapiapi one half of the book is all the songs 
and the stories in English and in M ori. And I couldn?t understand M ori at the time so it 
gave me that spark in a sense. 
 
Horo was counseled by his grandmother to keep his eyes open and immerse himself in 
the life of the marae in order to master the M ori language: 
The youth that I was meeting could speak M ori and I couldn?t. The more I hung out with 
them, the more I had to listen, the more I would ask my Nanny how I would learn Te Reo 
M ori. She basically told me to go to marae, sit down and shut up, listen, go do the dishes 
listen, go sit with the old people, listen. And yeah, at first I used to make quite a lot of 
mistakes and so I used to sit there quiet about it. But what I found out quite quickly, I 
suppose, was always challenge the knowledgeable and that?s what I did because I learn 
best that way. I wasn?t too well known in Te Ao M ori [?the M ori world?] in the 
education or modern M ori at the time. I was just a young hori
29
 M ori boy who was 
trying to find his roots. 
 
In 2001, Horo participated in a special section of the Rotorua Competition Society?s Uni-
son Concerto Competition where he met Hirini Melbourne and Richard Nunns for the 
first time: 
In 2001 my two mentors ? or to me, my two tohunga [who] had taught me, not through 
a physical form, but through their wairua [spirit] that I got from their CD and through 
their books and pictures ? I got to meet them?. This was the first Unison Concerto that 
added a new competition?traditional M ori instruments. And it was Hirini Melbourne 
that implemented it into that competition. So Taonga P oro can continue the revival and 
be well-known not only to M ori but to other tribes of the world as well. I was just there 
to meet them. I jumped in the competition ? not so much for the competition, [but] 
                                                
29
 The term ?hori? can be translated as ?phony? or ?fake? and is used colloquially, particularly by urban 
M ori as a self-deprecating term. Pakeha/Palagi use the term to say something or someone is rough or 
unsophisticated, i.e., ?That family across the road whose house is looking paru (?shitty?) are real horis.? 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 209 
 
because I wanted to just sit. Because I knew that the next day, after the competition, these 
two tohunga or mentors of mine, that I was going to meet [them and they] would lay all 
their instruments out on the table and teach me about it. And so I jumped in it and, funny 
enough, I ended up winning. They freaked out on me because I had a big humongous 
Afro and I was wearing nice attire, had a collar, had a nice long pants. And the funny 
thing is, they never thought as soon as they saw me that I?d play the way that I played. I 
thanked them for it because they made me realize?how much they had taught me 
without knowing. 
 
Horo was deeply attracted to the instruments and he found in them a source of nurture 
and healing: 
The next day I was [near] the instruments the whole day, giving them a mirimiri 
[?fondling? them] and giving them a massage, touching them, feeling them. Not playing 
them [but just] being around them and, I suppose, in one way or another I knew that was 
what I loved to do. And [their] stories that they said, not so much made me cry 
physically, but all the battles that I had been through ? because?I had a bit of a violent 
upbringing in a lot of senses?in all realms of spirituality, mentalness [sic] as well as the 
physical side of things. And through all of that, Taonga P oro has given me that spiritual 
healing.? It took me years and years to get that spiritual aspect. And that?s what I tell a 
lot of people ? I never had that spiritual side, well not so much ? it was always there 
but just dormant. And Taonga P oro opened that door for me. 
 
For Horo, taonga p oro is a metaphor for relationships and, by extension, for finding 
one?s place in a community. He compared the various ?families? of instruments to a 
village: 
Each family of instruments ? each had a purpose. In a village, you have?the families 
that are the fisherman you have the families that create all the baskets, you have the 
families that are the cooks and you have different families in the village like that. It?s 
basically the same with taonga p oro ? you have the messengers which would be the 
p kaea [and] the p tatara to let people know ?it?s time for kai [?food?]? or ?so and so 
just had a baby? or ?whanau so and so just died.? You also had flutes that were specific 
to love like the k auau was an instrument of love. But not just love in finding your 
partner, but love showing respect of love to your mother or showing that respect of love 
to your family, to your children and playing those melodies through your hau, through 
your breath of life through the instrument in creating the sound which was the rongo 
[?medicine? or ?healing agent?]. And you had families?like the tumutumu, you just pick 
it up and tap it against one another but it?s all about the energy of the person. And the 
energy of the material that they?re using whether stone, wood, bone. And it?s that 
percussiveness that the body has ? like we have percussiveness once we clap. That?s a 
percussive instrument and we have a percussive instrument when we?re clicking our 
[fingers]. Even just doing little taps that you might not even hear. But it?s the drive that 
makes you do that action that creates that whole story of that spiritual, mental and 
physical [entity] creating that one essence. And it?s how you do it, when you do it and 
what you?re doing it for that creates that life force. That life force can mean something to 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 210 
 
whoever is listening to that person. [It] can spark an idea or for others it sparks an 
awakening. For others it could spark a new beat for their own life. 
 
Comparing the functions of taonga p oro with more familiar traditional forms like 
m teatea and waiata tangi (literally ?wailing songs? ? traditionally sung at funerals), 
Horo said: 
With each instrument, like with the m teatea, [like] with the waiata tangi. They were 
instruments?that helped play the melodies of waiata tangi, that helped [the process]. 
What we hear in modern times ? you hear that some instruments were back-up or were 
there just to help the tune go along. Whereas in Te Ao M ori, in traditional times it was 
never that ? it was always having, like the more that was involved in it ? not only the 
voice ? but with the p oro, it created another source. And at the end of the day it?s like 
some instruments can play or can depict a kuia jumping up and doing a karanga. And 
that certain tangi [?cry? or ?wail? ? used here to mean ?sound quality?] that only that 
kuia can get ? when she?s welcoming people on to a marae ? only a kuia can ever get 
that. And you know when it?s a kuia doing that. You get that. ?Even if you were blind, 
you would know. It?s that spiritual aspect which all of these instruments can do in their 
own special little way. ?The good thing about all of them is they?re interweaved and 
interconnected. Because the more I?ve learnt about p oro, the more I?ve learnt about my 
language. The more I?ve learnt about my language, the more I?ve learnt about myself. 
The more I?ve learnt about myself, the more I learn about my children. The more I learn 
about my children, the more I learn about the love for my partner that I have, and it just 
creates that whole endless woven pattern that goes into the unknown. 
 
One of the most interesting aspects of Horo?s taonga p oro narrative is that the bulk of it 
is in the third person and in the past tense: he speaks about what ?they used to do.? His 
present day narrative is focused on language and extant waiata forms like waiata tangi 
and karanga and he stresses the connection between p oro and language. What emerges 
is that Horo, an urban M ori who has been alienated from traditional M ori culture is 
using music and language as a way to invest himself in M ori culture. In the next section 
I will consider how Horo and others perform taonga p oro in the present. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 211 
 
Performing Taonga P oro 
Parihaka 
The first Parihaka International Peace Festival brought a diverse audience and contem-
porary music performances into this historical setting and provided opportunities to 
observe interactions and intersections between modern global influences and institutions, 
and traditional local ones. Parihaka Pa, one of the oldest pantribal settlements, is an 
example of M ori historical situatedness. The fact that this was the first time that 
Parihaka Pa had been opened to the public on a large scale, coupled with the intention of 
the organizers to make it an ongoing event, makes this inaugural festival a compelling 
case study in its own right. My focus was on how the Taonga P oro movement, itself an 
intersection of tradition and modernity, manifested in performance at Parihaka. 
I initially went to the Parihaka Festival in order to interview Pakeha taonga p oro artist 
Richard Nunns. He was slated to perform there and the festival would also offer an 
opportunity to observe him workshop taonga p oro along with various ?students? that 
have gathered around him. I was particularly interested in observing him in a ?mixed? 
festival setting where traditional and local contexts were likely to be juxtaposed with 
modernity. Nunns?s appearance was cancelled at the last minute, but I was able to 
observe and interview his students, Horomona Horo (see above) and Warren Warbrick, 
who refer to Nunns and Hirini Melbourne as ?matua? (?parent? or ?master?), who per-
formed in his stead.  
This case highlights the efforts of a younger generation of urban M ori as they use taonga 
p oro and participation in the Taonga P oro movement to explore and construct their 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 212 
 
own sense of M oriness in contemporary circumstances, and also in order to establish 
themselves in relation to traditional M ori culture.  
In the following sections I consider these juxtapositions between elements of traditional 
and contemporary performance at Parihaka Pa. 
Parihaka Background 
The first Parihaka International Peace Festival was held at Parihaka Pa, a M ori settle-
ment in the shadow of Mount Taranaki, the extinct volcano that forms the western bulge 
of New Zealand?s North Island. Parihaka Pa
30
 was established in the latter half of the 19
th
 
century by Tohu Kakahi and Te Whiti o Rongomai who brought their communities 
together and led them in non-violent resistance to colonial land grabs. Parihaka went on 
to become one of the first pantribal M ori communities. Like T.W. Ratana, who was an 
inheritor of their tradition,
31
 they were prophets who had a vision for M ori people. The 
Parihaka International Peace Festival was organized in honor of Tohu and Te Whiti and 
their movement.   
In the late 1870s, the community of Parihaka became a pantribal symbol of resistance as 
M ori from all over New Zealand flocked to Parihaka to replace people who were being 
arrested for removing fences and pulling up surveyors pegs in a non-violent effort to 
hinder the parceling of land by the colonial government. Te Whiti and Tohu maintained 
that, until land in the area was set aside for M ori as had been promised by the colonial 
government, passive resistance would continue. Finally in November 1881, colonial 
                                                
30
 A pa is a strategically located settlement that is sometimes fortified with palisades and/or trenches. 
31
 Indeed Ratana is said to have been related to Te Whiti. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 213 
 
forces marched en masse on Parihaka Pa to suppress the movement ? by that time Pari-
haka had become home to over 2,000 people ? and both Te Whiti and Tohu and hun-
dreds of their followers were imprisoned without due process. The leaders of the 
resistance, including Tohu and Te Whiti, were transported over a thousand miles away to 
the lower South Island where they were imprisoned for two years and at times forced to 
do hard labor. Meanwhile Parihaka Pa was destroyed and those who remained were left 
impoverished ? a condition that persists to the present. 
The Parihaka International Peace Festival is an outgrowth of an emerging narrative of 
New Zealand national identity that is being written in the arts. The story of Parihaka Pa 
and the injustices done there have been well documented in the historical record,
32
 but 
surged into New Zealand public consciousness in 2001 when an art exhibition, a book, 
and a compact disk music compilation titled ?Parihaka: the Art of Passive Resistance?
33
 
brought together a group of major New Zealand poets, writers, musicians and visual 
artists to produce works acknowledging and celebrating Tohu and Te Whiti and the 
historic events at Parihaka. This work was undertaken because ?M ori and P keh  
recognize that to move forward there is a need to confront and deal honestly with the 
past, no matter how painful and embittered that may be.?
34
 And the artists who 
participated did so in order to construct a unified view of New Zealand national identity 
based on fairness: ?There is a commitment in New Zealand to redress past grievances, 
                                                
32
 See Cowan 1922; Scott 1975; Belich 1986; King 2003; et cetera. 
33
 Hohaia 2001. 
34
 Ibid.: 14. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 214 
 
whatever that will take. We want it because it is fair. And we wish to look to a future 
with some hope of living together in peace and harmony, respect, and dignity.?
35
  
The emergence of Parihaka as a defining narrative of national identity had several impor-
tant moments prior to the exhibition, including Dick Scott?s 1975 history of Parihaka, Ask 
That Mountain, and also a 1989 song, ?I?ll Sing for You a Song of Parihaka,? by Tim 
Finn that may be seen as constructive of a New Zealand identity based on a shared 
history and overlapping genealogies:  
One day you?ll know the truth, 
They can?t pull out the roots, 
Come and take me home, 
To weep for my lost brother. 
They gather still, the clouds of Taranaki, 
His children?s children wearing the white plume, 
So take me for the sins of these sad islands, 
The wave still breaks on the rock of Rouhotu. 
And when you taste the salt that?s on your pudding, 
And when you taste the sugar in your soup, 
Think of Te Whiti, he?ll never be defeated, 
Even at the darkest hour, 
His presence will remain. 
I?ll sing for you a song of Parihaka, 
Come to Parihaka, 
Weep for my lost brother. 
The spirit of nonviolence, 
Has come to fill the silence, 
Come to Parihaka.
36
  
 
The Parihaka International Peace Festival was literally and figuratively a response to 
Finn?s call to ?Come to Parihaka.? Figuratively, the song suggests an affective movement 
? it invites the listener to ?come? to Parihaka in the sense that a person might ?come to 
an understanding.? This affective motion implies an internal change, an acceptance of a 
more complete history of New Zealand, and an investment in that history that will ?fill 
                                                
35
 Ibid. 
36
 Tim Finn 1989. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 215 
 
the silence? and in the process construct a unified notion of New Zealand identity where 
?brotherhood? implies a co-mingling of blood and history. 
Parihaka International Peace Festival March 10-12, 2006 
From the north, the route to Parihaka goes through the port town of New Plymouth. With 
a population of about 50,000, New Plymouth is the largest urban center in Taranaki, a 
region that historically has had agriculture as the basis for its economy. Urban 
development quickly gives way to rural vistas on the way to Oakura, a little suburb on the 
southern outskirts where I had booked accommodation for the weekend. Parihaka lies 
about 20 miles to the south and is about a 30-minute drive. Richard Nunns was slated to 
appear in performance on the festival?s main stage at 8:30 pm Saturday and there was a 
Taonga P oro workshop scheduled the next (Sunday) morning. 
After unpacking, I drove south for my first glimpse of Parihaka Pa and the festival. My 
route goes south along Rte 45, ?Surf Highway? through the little village of Pungarehu. At 
Parihaka Rd. I turned inland toward Mt. Taranaki, driving on a small, two-lane road with 
farmer?s paddocks on either side.  
After the suppression of the resistance of Te Whiti and Tohu, Parihaka Pa?s population 
was decimated. Poor and bereft of their leaders, those who remained became a very 
private community. This festival is the first time that Parihaka Pa has been opened to the 
public on such a large scale and the event clearly represents massive local affective 
investment. 
Parihaka (see Figure 2) sits in the foothills of Mt. Taranaki ? called te maunga titohea 
(the ?bald mountain?) by local M ori, presumably because its summit is well above the 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 216 
 
tree line. The mountain looms in the distance. The layout of the festival is visible 
evidence of the meeting of two conceptual worlds in this place ? the traditional world of 
Parihaka Pa lies adjacent to the modern world of the main festival stages. Crowds of 
people cross back and forth over the boundary and performances represent two-way 
flows between worlds. 
 
Figure 2. Flags at the Parihaka International Peace Festival. 
 
Field Journal ? Friday, March 10, 2006  
3:00 pm  
As I settle into my accommodation, I unpack and phone Richard Nunns on his mobile to 
find out when he will arrive at the festival. He is irate ? his performance at Parihaka has 
been summarily cancelled and he is still at his home in Nelson. He tells me that the 
festival organizers are pleading poverty as the reason for the cancellation ? they don?t 
want to pay him. He questions that financial expediency is the real cause of his exclusion, 
noting that more expensive popular music acts like Fat Freddy?s Drop (a Wellington-
based dub-reggae band) were charging a great deal more than he. He feels he is being 
?blocked by some people? although he doesn?t name them specifically. He says that 
several of his (unpaid) ?students,? including James Webster and Horomona Horo, will 
be at the festival and that the Taonga P oro workshops and performances will go on 
without it him.  
? 
As I near the entrance to the festival site, I pull up behind a line of cars at a checkpoint 
where tickets (wristbands) are checked and people who aren?t camping onsite are 
funneled into parking in the roadside paddocks nearest the entrance to the festival site. 
Volunteers are strategically stationed along the way ? taking and selling tickets at the 
entrance and giving directions. The volunteers all seem to be M ori with a local 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 217 
 
connection ? there is a big range in age from young teens to people who look to be 60 or 
older. Most seem to be rural or urban poor ? many are dressed in old clothes, and 
general exuberance and broad smiles reveal lots of missing teeth ? but they are very 
welcoming and they seem to be both proud and proprietary of their place. The M ori 
word turangawaewae (?standing place? ? where you choose to stand, where you 
belong) springs to my mind. Since I am not camping onsite, a volunteer waves me into a 
paddock that has been set aside for day parking. 
A narrow, unpaved road (only wide enough for a single vehicle) into the site has been 
designated one-way for the festival and it runs counter clockwise in a u-shape through 
the site. Throngs of people flood into the campgrounds scoping out the best places 
(especially if there is rain), marking off spots and setting up their gear. On foot, towing 
my rolling pack with audio and video gear, I join an endless stream of vehicles and 
people. The road traverses rough ground with lots of ruts, gorse and a marshy stream. 
Along the side of the road there is a tractor that has obviously been used to grade and 
widen the rough-cut road. Parihaka maraes and private homes are adjacent (on the left) 
but unseen, screened from view behind hills and across a marshy stream, as the road 
snakes into the festival site. Camping areas in paddocks and on surrounding hills 
complete with blocks of mobile showers and toilets are the first sprawling evidence of 
habitation. After threading through the hilly camping areas, the staging areas come into 
view. 
Most of the festival stages, marketplace, eating, and congregating areas are in a hilly 
area. This primary staging area occupies about two or three acres of land. There are 
roads leading into the area, but they are closed off to casual traffic. The through road 
curves off to the left and through Parihaka village on its way back to the main road. The 
path leading into the festival proper is bordered by a hill designated ?Te Aomarama? 
(?the world of light?), with a set of multi-colored flags flying on top, on the left, and the 
main stage, ?Te Atamira Nui,? (?the big stage?) is in front at the end of a long path, 
facing a large open area for the audience. Behind the audience is a hill with the image of 
a giant feather ? a raukura, the symbol adapted by Te Whiti and Tohu?s followers as a 
sign of passive resistance to colonial power. To the right of Te Atamira Nui is a plateau 
which rises above the staging area below where the ?Craft Village? marketplace and 
various food stalls and eating areas are. At opposite ends of the Craft Village there are a 
dance stage, ?Rongomai,? (for Te Whiti o Rongomai, one of Parihaka?s two founders) 
and another stage set aside for poetry, comedy and music jam sessions. 
These main festival areas have a ?worldly? feel to them that is joined with an eclectic 
mix of popular, spiritual, and ecological themes. There are crowds of people including 
some families and lots of young people in their teens, twenties, and thirties. There is a 
very noticeable contingent of ?new-age? types including white, twenty-somethings 
bearing dreadlocks, people erecting teepees and ecology-minded representatives of the 
New Zealand Green Party with tables and literature on Te Aomarama. (Indeed Nandor 
Tancos, a list MP for the Green Party known for his trademark dreadlocks, is slated to do 
?performance poetry? on Saturday evening).  
The festival program says the purpose of the Te Aomarama site is ?to create and 
maintain a sacred mandala of universal peace and unity for all sentient beings belonging 
to the planet.? Programmed activities included yoga, peace circles, meditation, and 
Falun Gong.  Tables representing organizations like Oxfam, Amnesty International, New 
Zealand Police Education, the New Zealand national Library, Famine Relief, et cetera, 
are peppered all over the site. 
It is late Friday afternoon and, with the festival slated to begin at 4 pm, preparations for 
the event are still very much in progress. There is a long open trench where wiring for 
ATMs (automatic teller machines) and internet connections is still being laid ? evidence 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 218 
 
of major investment in Parihaka infrastructure. Sound systems are being checked and 
food vendors are just beginning to operate. After walking around the main area and as 
the first band, Three Houses Down, a reggae group, is cranking up, I decide to have a 
look at the older, more traditional areas around Parihaka?s maraes. 
A five-minute walk down a dusty road through the hills brings me to Parihaka Pa?s 
permanent compound, the village that forms the hub of the local community. Although the 
walk is short, the distance feels great. The compound consists of a central area with 
communal grounds and buildings surrounded by private homes on the periphery. Some 
festival events are scheduled to take place around the maraes but there is a very different 
character here than the performance venue. Although there are lots of people around, the 
atmosphere here seems quieter, slower, perhaps more meditative or even reverent. There 
are three maraes in the compound and events are scheduled at all of them including the 
showing of ?Peace Forum? films, Rongoa M ori (?M ori healing?) sessions, an area 
where only M ori language is spoken, and the Taonga P oro workshops that I?ve come 
to observe. 
5:00 pm ? Taonga P oro on the main stage 
After scouting the village, I?ve returned to the main festival area where a taonga p oro 
performance has just begun on the main stage. A small audience is spread out on the hills 
around the (see Figure 3) perimeter and on a flat portion directly in front of the elevated 
stage. Most of the onlookers are distant from the performers and the fine detail of ng  
taonga p oro is not visible. The ?band? is comprised of four performers: Horomona 
Horo and James Webster play taonga p oro instruments ? mostly ?trumpets? like the 
p kaea and p torino, ?flutes? (k auau, et cetera) and gourds (hue) as well as tapping 
instruments (tumutumu). A female vocalist also dances in place and ?plays? an 
instrument swung at the end of cord that appears to be either poi  whiowhio (?whistling 
gourd?) or p rerehua (similar to the Australian aboriginal bullroarer). These latter are 
nearly invisible and inaudible from the audience. Three musicians stand while a fourth 
sits and alternates between acoustic guitar and a large drum. The stage is cluttered with 
?conventional? rock concert paraphernalia, with trap drums, elaborate lighting rigs, 
amplifiers, keyboards and microphones forming an odd backdrop to ng  taonga p oro 
which seem out of place.  
 
Figure 3. Taonga P oro on the main stage. Webster (far right) holds a p kaea. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 219 
 
Receiving the music from the audience, the performance has the flavor of singer-
songwriter, acoustic folk music with mixed M ori and English lyrics. The conventional 
dimension of the output of the singer and guitarist/drummer is the most prominent aspect 
of the performance ? they are certainly the most audible. The softer taonga p oro 
instruments are effectively inaudible (and nearly invisible in some cases) and even the 
larger, louder instruments come across more as sound effects and ornamentation than as 
a principal feature of the performance. 
 
Field Journal ? Saturday, March 11, 2006 
3:00 pm ? Dance and Taonga P oro 
?I?ve heard that there will be a dance performance featuring taonga p oro at 3:30 pm 
in the Parihaka compound. As I approach the site, I encounter James Webster, a member 
of Haumanu and a maker and player of taonga p oro, whom I have known for some time. 
(James is a well-known visual artist and sculpture and in 1997 he crafted an etched glass 
image that forms the entryway for my Auckland studio). James introduces me to Horo-
mona Horo and Warren Warbrick (see Figure 4), who are congregating around the 
periphery of the grounds in front of the wharekai. Webster, Horo and a guitar player are 
setting up a sound system and warming up instruments. The musicians bear visible 
emblems of M ori identity. Horomona Horo has his hair in a topknot and has a long 
bone inserted through his earlobe. Warren Warbrick also wears his hair in a topknot and 
his legs (he is wearing shorts) bear extensive and ornate tattoos (moko).   
 
 
 
Figure 4. Warren Warbrick prepares for a taonga p oro and dance performance on the paepae 
at the Parkihaka Village compound. 
 
As they set up, I chat with Warren and Horomona. They refer to Richard Nunns and 
Hirini Melbourne with the honorific ?matua? (?parent?or ?master?) and they show 
tremendous deference to both ?Matua Richard? and ?Matua Hirini,? speaking of them 
in near-reverent tones. They feel it is unfair that Nunns has been left out of the festival. 
Warren and Horomona agree to be interviewed at the conclusion of the performance. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 220 
 
I take up a position on the far side of the wharekai porch (stage right) where I can see the 
full field of the paepae. The musicians are arranged stage left of the wharekai at the 
periphery of the paepae. Horo and Webster are surrounded with various M ori 
instruments. The guitarist is seated playing a Spanish guitar. All are amplified with 
microphones on stands for Horo and Webster and a pickup on the guitar. The dancers 
are assembled out of sight, stage right of the whare. The audience is scattered around the 
periphery of the paepae. There are a number of children and adults ? most appear to be 
M ori. Overhearing conversations I note a few American, Dutch and German accents 
(these folk seem to be backpackers ? maybe tourists) as well as a few (apparently) white 
New Zealanders present. I don?t notice any audience members who are easily identifiable 
as Pacific Island people. 
As the performance begins Webster blows across a poroiti (a spinning disc that 
resembles a button suspended on two strings that are threaded through holes in the 
center ? the disc is spun by alternately tightening and slackening the strings) in front of 
the microphone, making a whirring sound that is accentuated by the air being blown 
across it as it whirls. Even though the sound of the poroiti is amplified, it is barely 
audible. Indeed the ambient sounds of the audience ? children playing and people 
talking, et cetera ? tend to be louder than the quieter instruments. Horo plays a wooden 
p torino (a carved, bifurcated hollow tube with two chambers that merge into a single 
tube at both ends. Sometimes called a ?bugle flute,?
37
 p torino has two ?voices? in that 
it can be played as either a side- or end-blown flute or as a trumpet depending on the 
emouchure and technique employed). The third musician is playing an amplified guitar 
that is considerably louder that the other instruments. 
From where I stand, I see Mount Taranaki looming in the background as the dancers 
enter stage right after a chant, presumably a karakia, that ends with the exclamation 
?Tihei mauri ora? (?Here I stand sneezing the breath of life!? ? a common rhetorical 
feature of M ori oratory). They emerge single file onto the paepae, one male followed by 
nine females. The dancers are costumed in black leotards with long, blue and white 
aprons made from hanging shreds of fabric that are reminiscent of piupiu (a traditional 
M ori skirt made from flax and worn by men and women, most typically during kapahaka 
performances). Their faces are painted with a white and tourquoise stripe extending 
diagonally from the top right of the forehead across the nose and down the chin. 
 
As the dancers filed out, Horo and Webster began playing p kaea ? literally the ?sound 
of news? or a clarion, p kaea are long wooden tubes with a rough, cuivre trombone-like 
timbre. Once the dancers were assembled on the paepae, a prerecorded sound track 
started up as the p kaea died down: first sounds of synthesized strings, seabirds with 
deep, reverberated tones and recorded whale song evocative of the ocean, then narration:  
Through the inner space of oceans, whales call. Their songs are expressions of the great-
est minds on the planet. Their songs carry over thousands of kilometers through water. 
The life of the sea is listening. But in all of the sea, where are the enemies of the voices, 
the other great minds responding to on the same scale to the call of the whales? There is 
                                                
37
 Flintoff 2004. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 221 
 
only the mechanical drone of engines, the repercussion of underwater explosions, or the 
repetitive ping of a sonar. And without explanation there is the merciless, painful killing 
of hundreds of thousands of whales, dolphins and porpoises ? a killing without end. 
Even during the past twenty years with a ban place against commercial whaling, the 
killing goes on in the name of fishing by catch, science and tradition. We humans send 
music to outer space ? our great minds calling out to the universe. What if we send 
music to inner space? What if we responded to the call of the whales? 
 
The p kaea responded in imitation of whale song as the narration was supplanted by 
sounds of crashing surf. At this point one of the dancers, hands trembling in the 
traditional wiri (quavering, side to side motion of the hand), commenced a karanga (a 
traditional call, welcome, or summons delivered by a woman and considered the feminine 
counterpart to whaikorero). The dance performance appeared to be timed and cued by the 
pre-recorded soundtrack and as the karanga ended, the sounds of whale song over 
crashing surf returned.  
Following the karanga, whale song and surf sounds intensified and these higher pitched 
sounds were joined by a low tone (sub-contra D) with a timbre similar to that of a 
foghorn. Horo resumed playing koauau as a repetitive rhythmic figure (see transcription) 
commenced on the soundtrack ? the timbre of the drum sound and its impelling motive 
were suggestive of Native American powwow drumming. Finally (on the soundtrack) a 
female vocalist, commenced singing a pitched modal melody (E flat minor) in M ori: 
Te Tohora, Whakarongo [ki] te 
tohora, 
He waiata aroha, He tohora, 
He wh nau kotahi te tohora, 
Wh nui i te ao m rama. 
He Tohora (3x) 
He wh nau kotahi te Tohora (2x) 
Tohora, Tohora 
The Whale, listen to the whale, 
It is a love song, It is a whale, 
Whales are one family, 
Widespread in the world of light, 
Whales (3x)  
Whales are one family (2x)
38
 
 
                                                
38
 My translation. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 222 
 
 
Figure 5. Transcription of ?Te Tohora.? 
 
The melody exhibits a narrow melodic compass (a perfect fifth at its widest ? see 
transcription in Figure 5) that has a similar tonal quality to group unison chanting of 
waiata in traditional settings like powhiri. However, the M ori language lyric is overlaid 
on (and subordinate to) a metrical rhythmic underpinning in strict four/four time and a 
tonal-modal melody. 
At the completion of the (prerecorded) song, the taonga p oro musicians and guitarist 
continued ?improvising? over the prerecorded soundtrack as the dancers undulated across 
the paepae, sometimes chanting in M ori. The dancers formed a V formation and the 
group and wrapped themselves in a long banner, creating the illusion of a waka (canoe) 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 223 
 
and they mimed the act of paddling on a body of water while they undulated across the 
paepae. The music was eclectic ? in addition to synthesized music and sampled whale 
song, it used various sampled or prerecorded instruments including didjeridoo and 
?tribal? drums that have an ?indigenous? association.  
Both the live Spanish guitar and prerecorded synthesizers and vocals used definite, equal 
tempered pitches that meshed poorly with the less determinate intonation of Horo?s 
k auau which was pitched around E flat and ranged over about an augmented fourth 
(approximately ~D flat to ~G natural). The tempered Western instruments were 
foregrounded by a combination of their amplified presence and the unrelenting (and 
unresponsive) character of the steady, prerecorded rhythm track. And Horo seemed 
drawn into their tonal sphere ? his playing dwelt on the keynote and minor third of the 
mode, but it was unconvincing. The soft sound of the k auau seemed disconnected, as 
though it was not in the same acoustic space, and Horo sounded like he was ?noodling? 
? improvising aimlessly, as if he wasn?t quite able to grasp the mode. Indeed none of the 
live players were particularly present during the prerecorded song sections. In the parts of 
the piece (following the vocal) where the non-tonal whale song and ocean sounds were 
more prominent, the (louder) p kaea and p torino had a more balanced presence and 
seemed to better mesh with the prerecorded track. During these non-tonal sections, the 
guitar became an incongruous element. 
The performance had a small audience of about forty or 50 people who were seated at 
dispersed locations around the perimeter of the paepae. There were about 15 performers, 
many of whom had friends or family members with them who would have made up a 
significant part, if not the majority of the audience. The performance was well received 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 224 
 
among this audience ? people clapped and most stayed for the entire performance and 
many stayed afterwards to chat or help the performers pack up. Based on the 
conversations and interactions that took place at the end, the performance was successful 
largely because it brought members of a developing community of M ori artists (dancers 
and musicians) together with some potential supporters from some other natural 
constituencies.  
The performance itself employed markers that are either identifiable as uniquely ?M ori? 
or, more generally, as ?indigenous.? There is a conflation of these concepts in both the 
literal content of the performance and the demeanor ? in actions and appearance ? of 
the performers. Performers wore jewelry carved from bone or greenstone and costumes 
based on traditional M ori styles and motifs like the piupiu grass skirts. Ng  taonga 
p oro were similarly carved and decorated. The mixture of musical instruments and 
sounds included M ori taonga p oro, but also frame drums and the recorded sounds of 
Australian Aboriginal didjeridoo. Many of the participants wore dreadlocks. And the 
literal content of the performance combined ?green? conservation themes with promotion 
of indigenous sensitivity and ?stewardship? of nature. 
Ultimately, the incongruities that I perceived between ng  taonga p oro and Western 
instruments either did not exist or was not a major issue for the audience and the per-
formers. My sense is that I was witnessing the construction of an aesthetic in its early 
stages and that the grounds for my judgments were not necessarily those of the people I 
observed. I will return to this topic in the concluding chapters of this dissertation. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 225 
 
I returned the following day to observe a taonga p oro demonstration led by Horomona 
Horo, James Webster, and Warren Warbrick. 
Taonga P oro Demonstration  
Field Journal ? Sunday, March 12 
10:00 am 
The taonga p oro demonstration is set up on the porch of the wharekai (see Figure 6). As 
the demonstrators lay out their instruments, a small group of children, tourists, and some 
older people mill about. Most of the instruments on view belong to the three main 
performers ? Horo, Webster, and Warbrick. Each has an extensive assortment that they 
arrange on a long table on the porch of the wharekai. The instruments are arranged by a 
combination of size, function and the materials they are constructed from:there are shell 
?trumpets? with wooden mouthpieces (p t tara); wood, stone, and bone ?flutes? 
(k auau, nguru (see Figure 7), et cetera); bone clappers (tumutumu); wooden ?flute-
trumpets? (p t rino); gourds (hue) (see Figure 8); with long wooden clarion 
?trombones? (p kaea) laid lengthwise behind. There are also numbers of smaller 
?instruments? that come more or less intact (i.e., not carved or ?worked?) from the 
forests and the sea including shells of nearly extinct mollusks. The display seems 
calculated for visual effect, and the sheer number of elaborately carved and decorated 
instruments, and rare or unusual natural artifacts, grouped together is very impressive.  
The atmosphere is relaxed and Horo, Webster, and Warbrick chat with the crowd, as 
people pore rapturously over the instruments before the formal demonstration. People 
are not discouraged from touching and handling the instruments and some people 
exchange stories about the instruments. Some attempt (with varying degrees of success) 
to play the various instruments. Some people clearly are already familiar with the 
instruments and are known to the demonstrators and they join in to display some of their 
instruments. Many of the instruments (and some of the demonstrators) are very 
elaborately decorated with traditional designs.  
 
 
Figure 6. Warren Warbrick demonstrates a p kaea on a porch of the wharekai at Parihaka 
Village. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 226 
 
 
Figure 7. Warren Warbrick, James Webster, and Horomona Horo (from laft) play nguru as an 
ensemble during taonga p oro demonstration. 
 
 
Figure 8. Gourds (hue) on display during the taonga p oro demonstration.  
 
Horomona Horo opened with a speech in M ori followed by an introduction in English to 
signal the beginning of the demonstration. During his speech, Horo talked about being 
honored to be able to present taonga p oro in such a historic setting. He also asked that, 
even though the demonstration was in front of the wharekai, the ?food house,? he 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 227 
 
requested that people not bring food near the instruments because this would violate the 
tapu nature of the taonga.
39
 
At the conclusion of his opening speech, Horo introduced a middle-aged kuia from 
Parihaka Pa as the kaiwhakahaere (?welcomer?) and she sang a maioha (a formal speech 
of warm welcome).
40
 Eyes closed and with the solemnity of a prayer, she chanted: 
E t  ra ng  w?akatangitangi
41
   kui m    koro m  
Kia totoia koe e te maunga titohea,  
Ng  poropititanga o Aotearoa 
Ki Te Waipounamu, ki ng  moutere,  
Ki te paepae ki Rarotonga, ki Hawaiki, 
Ka t  atu ki Rapanui e t  mai ra, 
Te tipua-roa, te tipua-rangi, te tipua-nua, te tipua-w?enua, 
Taka taku roimata ki   koutou i roto i te w?akamaharatanga 
A kui m    koro m  i taketakea i ng  p orooro i runga i ng  marae nui   Aotearoa 
Ki te Waipounamu, ki W?arekauri 
Ka huri ra nai hoki ki roto i ng  ng here 
Kia rongo ki a Tumatauenga 
Kia Ruaumoko ki a T w?irimatea, Haumietiketike  
Kia tae ng  rangatahi ng  w?atukura 
Tenei r  te kuia e tatangi atu nei ki ng  tohu   ng  manu tioriori o runga o te maunga  
Nau mai haere mai 
E te tini e te mano me tauiwi hoki me ng  moutere 
W?akamahana mai i raro i te r  nui 
E t  rangatira ake nei 
Ka rongo koutou i   kui m    koro, Ka w?akatangitangi ng  w?atukura  
Ki te w?aiao, Ki te ao marama o te kaupapa i te w  nei e  
Hei! 
 
Kia ora. 
 
                                                
39
 The placement of the taonga p oro demonstration at the wharekai is evidence that the Taonga P oro 
movement is still in the legitimation phase of collective definition (see Chapter Six). Events of a tapu 
nature are usually conducted at the wharenui (?big house?). Food is always noa (?secular? or ?normal?) and 
tapu and noa are not to be mixed. The fact that the demonstration was placed at the wharekai indicates that 
there probably is some lingering skepticism about the Taonga P oro movement among Parihaka people. At 
the same time, the fact that they were allowed to demonstrate on marae grounds at all is an indication of 
some acceptance.  
40
 Williams Dictionary of the M ori Language (7
th
 edition) defines maioha as: ?to greet affectionately? or a 
?token of regard.?  
41
 In the Taranaki dialect, ?h? is dropped in most words that start with ?wh? with a corresponding change in 
pronunciation from an ?f? to a ?w? sound. I have replaced the ?standard? orthographic rendering of ?h? 
with an apostrophe in the appropriate places in this transcription. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 228 
 
Stand up, stand firm [o] singing instruments of the old people 
That you be anointed
42
 by the Bald Mountain [Taranaki], 
Instruments of prophecy for Aotearoa  
From the South Island, from the islands, 
From the sacred ground of the marae at Rarotonga, from Hawaiki, 
They stood [far] away there at Rapanui, here and there and at all of these places! 
The genius of the ancients, the genius of the sky, and the greatest genius, that of the land. 
My tears are shed for the memory of them all 
For all the ancestors who established these instruments at all the great marae of Aotearoa 
On the South Island, and the Chatham Islands, 
Traversing the forests that they might be heard by Tumatauenga  
And by Ruaumoko and T whirim tea and Haumiatiketike
43
 
And through these youth, these worthy young people, they should arrive [here]. 
I am but an old woman calling out, invoking the singing birds of the mountaintop 
I bid welcome, come hither 
[You] multitude of unknown tribes from far away as well as from these islands 
[Be] warmed by the bright sun and by the august nature of what is to follow 
You will all hear the ancestors, the noble ones crying out 
To the daylight, to the world of light that is the guiding principle of this moment in time. 
Hei! 
 
Be well. 
 
When she began singing, participants who had been sitting, stood and lowered their gaze. 
The chant had a narrow range (a minor third) ? and used only three notes alternating 
between a keynote (~C sharp ? the most prevalent pitch), its minor seventh a whole tone 
below and a flat ninth (see Figure 9).  
                                                
42
 The term t t ia (the passive voice of the verb t t ) can also mean to be ?hauled ashore? or ?drawn in.? 
The 2
nd
 edition of the Williams dictionary (1852) also gives ?native baptism? as a possible meaning. This 
meaning does not appear in 7
th
 edition where ?anointed? appears instead. 
43
 Tumatauenga (god of war and maker of tools, including traps and snares), Ruaumoko (god of the 
underworld who shakes the earth), T whirim tea (god of the wind) and Haumiatiketike (god of 
uncultivated, wild foods) are gods, the children born of the original gods Rangi (the sky) and Papa (the 
earth). They were of the first generation to take human form (although they were immortal, their children 
were the first human mortals). They are the penultimate root of whakapapa and are therefore associated 
with the origins of all things including musical instruments. For example, T whirim tea is associated with 
wind instruments. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 229 
 
 
Figure 9. Transcription of ?Parihaka P oro Maioha? (excerpt 1). 
 
The flat ninth, used near the end of the chant, gave the feeling of a brief modulation and 
was used cadentially (see Figure 10): 
 
Figure 10. Transcription of ?Parihaka P oro Maioha? (excerpt 2). 
 
This waiata may have been a variation on a traditional Parihaka song for welcoming 
people to the village. Parihaka is a pantribal settlement that historically was open to and 
drew people from a variety of places and the text of the chant weaves taonga p oro into a 
set of Parihaka-specific themes. It uses the huri ng  tai form to locate various origins 
(Raratonga, Hawaiki, South Island, Chatham Islands, et cetera) and destinations. By 
invoking the atua ? Tumatauenga, Ruaumoko, T whirim tea and Haumietiketike ? the 
chant interweaves karakia, whakapapa, and M ori origin stories in a way that overlaps 
and anticipates the taonga p oro narrative.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 230 
 
Ruia Aperahama responded to my speculation on the origin of this song:  
You could be correct in asserting that the karanga could have originated from an older 
formula adapted for the occasion, although I suspect that the performer is actually 
composing spontaneously drawing on a number of referents at her disposal, she seems to 
be learned in the Kauwae Runga (?upper jaw?).
44
 She uses the formula of both 
welcoming and blessing, because she uses specific ?karakia? terms. In this instant, she is 
using the genre often called ?Maioha? which is a spontaneous composition expressing 
gratitude, thanks, and welcoming.
45
 
 
At the conclusion of the kaiwhakahaere?s song, the demonstration began. Horo, Webster 
and Warbrick commenced by playing p t tara, conch shell ?trumpets,? as an ensemble. 
They then took turns telling stories. They often appeared ill at ease ? their narratives had 
a tentative quality and the stories lacked immediacy. They often seemed to be repeating 
stories that were far removed from their original source and they frequently echoed 
Richard Nunns?s analogies recasting taonga p oro in terms of modern technology like his 
?cellphone to the divine? metaphor. For example, Horo talked about the p t tara as a 
?message carrying instrument? that was used to make announcements of new births. He 
asserted that the ?tune? ? specifically the length of the sustained sound conveyed the 
lineage of the child and the identity of the family: ?It was basically like a cell phone call 
to let people know if someone was born or someone had died.?  
Webster spoke next. His narrative is basically interpretive ? he imagines how ng  
taonga p oro would have been used based on the stories he has heard. Speaking at first in 
halting M ori, he began by talking about the instruments as gifts from the ancestors that 
                                                
44
 Kauwae Runga is a term used to denote the ?whare karanga,? a body of knowledge and practice that is 
for women the counterpart to the institution of  whaikorero for men. Karanga, the art of calling out, 
summoning and welcoming, is a role reserved for women. Like whaikorero, it requires extensive 
knowledge of oratorical forms like karakia as well as general and specific knowledge of situations and 
origins of visitors that would enable the kaikaranga (or kaiwhakahaere in this case) to speak and sing 
appropriately on a particular occasion.  
45
 Ruia Aperahama, personal communication, 3/26/2008. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 231 
 
were used to talk to the gods. Webster then carried on in English with a story of p t tara 
being used on the canoes that crossed the ocean to Aotearoa, that when the voyagers 
encountered a ?feeding ground?:  
What the tohunga [adepts] used to do was they used the p t tara as a tool to communicate 
with the tohora [whales] and whatnot. So you can imagine the canoes moving across the 
water with its hulls and stuff and they [saw] a whale moving across the top of the surface. 
So by playing the ? the korero is [this is how the story goes] ? by playing the p t tara, 
it would send sort of sonar signals through the hull of the canoe. So it would sort of 
vibrate out through the ocean. So they would use it to communicate to the whales and 
such ? yeah ? so they would have safe passage. So they wouldn?t get sort of bumped or 
hit by swimming whales and whatnot in the area? Anyway that?s just one little story and 
you hear stories like that. They?re quite profound stories ? just sort of reflecting some of 
the gifts of our tupuna [ancestors] for communicating with nature ? how they were sort 
of attuned to the environment. 
 
Webster went on to reiterate some of the content of the previous day?s dance concert with 
a criticism of modern ?pollution? of the environment:  
We find today so much noise pollution ? the vehicles, the airplanes and whatnot. And 
being not so in tune with our senses. And some of the [stories] are a reminder to me to 
remember to be in tune. And that?s why the stories are so important?. 
 
At the end of his speech and at a loss for more words, Webster turned to Warbrick and 
asked if he had any stories. Warbrick declined. At this point Horo stepped back in to 
acknowledge of Richard Nunns, Hirini Melbourne, Joe Malcolm, and others who had 
actually collected the stories:  
It was through their struggles, through their breaking barriers traveling to over 500 marae 
up and down New Zealand, talking to the old people. ?We?re just basically remem-
bering their journeys?. 
  
Horo went on to talk about the instruments as a way for themselves and subsequent 
generations to remember the oceans and the natural world. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 232 
 
They concluded the p tat ra segment by playing the instruments again. The presentation 
continued with the ?children of Tangaroa? (god of the sea), various shells that ?have a 
voice.? Then the three presenters played the shells as cross-blown flutes. They went on to 
demonstrate ?M ori percussion instruments? including tumutumu made from the 
jawbones of a killer whale tapped with another bone or other striker:  
Although don?t have [huge] range like a five piece drum set [laughter], they were used to 
enhance the karakia, the taputapu?for war all the way through to healing the body, 
healing bones, healing internal [and] external injuries? What I have heard is that they 
weren?t really used for ngahau [entertainment] the way a nice set of drums would be used 
today. 
  
He then imitated the familiar sound of the tumutumu used as the introduction Te Karere, 
a popular M ori culture and current affairs program that has aired weekdays on 
Television New Zealand since the 1980s: ?If you listen to the radio, you can?t say you 
haven?t heard a tumutumu.? 
Next, the trio played p kaea, the long wooden clarion ?trombones.? This time there was 
more variation in the sound as the playing methods included making rushing sounds and 
harmonics by playing the long wooden tubes as over-size side blown flutes, or a brassy 
blare by playing them by lip vibrations (as in Western brass). The presentation continued 
in the same format as they discussed and then played instruments made from a variety of 
natural materials and with a range of playing techniques. 
For every demonstration, two or three presenters would play together, although none of 
the stories mentioned ensemble playing as a normal or traditional function of ng  taonga 
p oro. Indeed mutual reinforcement within the group ? turning to one another to add a 
voice or a story when they faltered, playing instruments together, supporting or 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 233 
 
expanding the basic thematic material of the narratives, et cetera ? was a central feature 
of the performance.  
It was also clear that a focus on M ori language was contextually appropriate. All of the 
deomonstrators used M ori terminology and spoke at least briefly in M ori at some point. 
It was also clear that the emphasis was on working at the language and trying to use it, as 
opposed to being adept. The demonstration was also a site for language instruction as 
Horo, in particular, laid out M ori vocabulary in relation to the instruments.  
At the conclusion of the demonstration, vocalist Andre Foote joined the three demon-
strators in an impromptu performance.  This performance was characterized by non-tonal 
playing by Horo, Webster, and Warbrick on p torino ? two of them playing the instru-
ment like a trumpet, one like a flute. This was in contrast with the vocalist who sang an 
improvised waiata ?on-pitch? (in the sense that she referenced a key note, A) and used 
tonal (as opposed to microtonal) intervals. In keeping with older waiata styles, she 
employed a relatively narrow range, singing over the interval of a fifth. Her singing was 
strong but she seemed unsure of the circumstance (this is at least partially attributable to 
the impromptu nature of the performance).  
Horo was the strongest player among the three instrumentalists and his rangi (tune) was 
strong and essentially tonal, at least to start. The other two players are not as strong 
?musically? ? they don?t have a strong sense of (Western) pitch and lack the confidence 
to play microtones with authority. Together their ensemble playing sounded 
unintentional, not ?rational,? and its over all impact was of something unformed.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 234 
 
Throughout these performances the participants exhibited signs of lack of confidence that 
may be variously attributable to some combination of shyness, or lack of experience, 
familiarity with some musical forms, or musical expertise. It was clear, however, that the 
performance was not to be judged strictly on ?musical? grounds. And when, after about 
three minutes, the performance ?ended? (even as one of the players continued on for a 
few seconds, having missed the moment), the audience clapped fairly enthusiastically and 
with apparent appreciation. The end result seems to have been success.  
This success seems to reflect the efforts of the players to find and construct themselves 
and to build a constituency with their music. Participants emphasized themes of alien-
ation from nature in the modern world. And these themes of M ori and indigenous 
peoples as guardians (kaitiaki) of the natural world appeared to resonate with various 
people including conservationists and other people present, who identify with the ?green 
movement.? Such themes are implicit elements of the materials, details of construction 
and stories of the origins of the instruments and these themes were explicitly performed 
in the previous day?s dance piece (Te Tohora) and repeated in the taonga p oro 
demonstration.  
The language of the kaiwhakahaere?s maioha to the young demonstrator-performers 
demonstrated acknowledgment, acceptance, and support if not outright legitimation by 
?traditional? M ori. And their presence on the sacred ground of the marae is clear 
evidence of institutional sanction if not engagement, although their location on the 
veranda of the wharekai could be construed as a sign of not quite having ?made it,? yet. 
Perhaps what is most interesting is that, while this accommodation was extended to these 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 235 
 
young M ori rangatahi (younger generation of M ori), Pakeha Richard Nunns was not 
there.  
Ultimately, one might argue that in this M ori context Western musical elements and 
critical criteria were at least temporarily backgrounded, and the institutions that maintain 
them, were not in force. In the next section, I examine some performances that show 
Richard Nunns and taonga p oro in non-M ori contexts. 
Taonga P oro as ?New Zealand Music? 
Jazz: Richard Nunns and the Mason-Battley Group 
In March 2006, I witnessed a performance of jazz quintet the Mason-Battley Group 
featuring Richard Nunns playing taonga p oro at the Auckland University Music School 
auditorium. The performance was put on for the launch of the group?s third album, ?Two 
Tides.? The following sections are based on observations of this performance and close 
listening to the album. 
Setting 
The venue was a small auditorium sealed from external light and acoustically isolated. It 
has become a desirable site for classical music recording sessions. The room has 
exceptional acoustics augmented by an in-house sound system and theater lighting. It has 
theater-style tiered seating for an audience of about 150 people. There is no fixed stage 
and the performance area for this event was actually the floor directly in front of the 
bottom tier of seats. 
The performance took place before a well-dressed, middle class audience of about 80 
people who seemed to be mostly well off and university educated. In conversations fol-
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 236 
 
lowing the event I learned that there were people in the audience who identified as M ori, 
however they were not easily distinguishable from the majority. 
The setting lent itself to a dramatic presentation for this concert. Set back from the front 
row about 15 feet, the audience was presented with Nunns, and his table of exotic 
instruments built from natural materials on the far left (see Figure 11). Nunns was 
counterpoised with Mason-Battley and his saxophones and computer workstation on the 
far right. Piano, drums and electric bass filled the middle of the performance area, and an 
electric guitarist was positioned adjacent to Mason-Battley (see Figure 13, Figure 14, and 
Figure 14). 
 
 
Figure 11. Instruments on display at the Mason-Battley Group performance with Richard 
Nunns. 
 
Figure 12. Richard Nunns (left) in performance with the Mason-Battley Group. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 237 
 
 
Figure 13. Richard Nunns performing with the 
Mason-Battley Group. 
 
 
Figure 14. Chris Mason-Battley perform-
ing with the Mason-Battley Group and 
Richard Nunns. 
 
Music: Instrumentation, Style, and Influences 
The group?s standard instrumentation included soprano saxophone, guitar, piano, electric 
bass, and trap drums. Mason-Battley also played a computer-based synthesizer during the 
course of the performance. All of the group members presented as Pakeha males and 
appeared to range in age from mid-30s to about 50 years old. For the album launch, the 
group featured Richard Nunns on an assortment of M ori instruments. Although the 
concert did occasionally feature vocalization (mostly by Nunns), the music was almost 
exclusively instrumental and did not employ literal or textual elements beyond the titles 
of the pieces. 
Leader Chris Mason-Battley?s soprano saxophone playing is characterized by a ?clean 
tone? (i.e., by clarity of tone and pure intonation) and the group specializes in improvi-
sations colored by impressionistic harmonies as inspired by Debussy et alia, that are a 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 238 
 
common feature of modern jazz in the mid to late 20
th
 century. The compositions 
typically are tonal-modal head arrangements and employ ostinato grooves in a variety of 
time signatures and include a lot of odd-meter pieces, sometimes interspersed with free-
form or rubato sections. The group?s utilization of electric bass and drum kit is remi-
niscent of Miles Davis?s post-bop and jazz-rock experimentations during the 1970s and 
influences of Davis and his sometimes collaborator Wayne Shorter (and his group 
Weather Report) were apparent. The production of the band?s sound ? particularly the 
miking, amplification, and mixing of the instruments, particularly the soprano saxophone 
and acoustic grand piano ? resembles German record label ECM recordings of artists 
like Jan Garbarek and Keith Jarrett. 
 On his website, Mason-Battley describes the group?s music as, ?contemporary jazz 
reflecting the open spaces and untamed beauty of Aotearoa, New Zealand.? He goes on to 
acknowledge musical influences by American artists Pat Metheny, John Schofield, and 
Keith Jarrett as well as European Jan Garbarek.
46
  
Identity Performance 
Identity and identification are an explicit aspect of the Mason-Battley Group?s 
performance. Despite what appear to be strong stylistic, structural, and compositional 
roots in American and African American music, leader Chris Mason-Battley was quick to 
identify the quintet?s style as ?European Jazz? at the beginning of the concert. Avoidance 
of association with American music seems in keeping with a strong historical identifi-
cation with Europe among white New Zealanders.  
                                                
46
 Http://www.chrismb.co.nz/cmbgroup_1page.htm, 3/30/2008. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 239 
 
At the same time they seek to emphasize the New Zealandness of their music. Presum-
ably the construction of the music as a local (and hence unique) phenomenon is an 
identification from which they hope to derive institutional or some other benefits in the 
marketplace.  Consistent with earlier narratives (see Chapter Two), they accomplish this 
by association with M ori culture and by an evocation of New Zealand musical (and 
other) landscape. 
In promotional materials for the album, Mason-Battley bills the music as:  
The ancient musical traditions of New Zealand?s indigenous M ori meet the evolving 
sounds of 21st century Jazz?. 
Two distinct musical sensibilities explore their similarities and differences through 
improvisation.  M ori instrumentation and European jazz explore new territory within the 
evolving musical landscape of Aotearoa/New Zealand. 
From intimate conversations between koauau (bone flute) and saxophone to dynamic, 
emotive group improvisations, this is music that alternatively lulls, lifts moves, and 
surprises. 
 
On the face of it, this narrative, despite a reference to ?distinct musical sensibilities,? 
tends instead to erase those distinctions. It depersonalizes and disembodies the cultural 
object by personifying artifacts (?M ori instrumentation?) and form (?European jazz?) 
and by deemphasizing or entirely ignoring the cultural components and context that 
might actually comprise ?sensibilities? or differences. In the next section I examine 
?musical sensibility? as it manifested in this performance. 
The Music 
Four of eight titles of the pieces on the album ?Two Tides,? which formed the program 
for the performance I witnessed, were M ori place names: ?Tairua? is a small town on 
the Coromandel Peninsula; ?Tahuna Caravan Park,? is a holiday park in Nelson; 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 240 
 
?Okareka,? is a small lake in the Bay of Plenty; ?Te Henga,? otherwise known as 
Bethel?s Beach, is a small beachfront community just outside of Auckland. Interestingly, 
these places have associations for many New Zealanders as recreational areas where 
families vacation. For Pakeha especially, these kinds of sites are affective markers for 
childhood memories and nostalgic associations. Although some also have M ori 
populations or some ongoing M ori identifications (indeed such associations are 
commonly true of rural and small town New Zealand), these usually are background 
associations.  
Nunns?s contributions to the music were primarily atmospheric ? he added sounds and 
occasionally melodic fragments that were at times taken up and echoed by the other 
members of the group. Notably, when Nunns played un-pitched instruments, his con-
tributions were generally focused on, and in relation to, the beat. When playing on 
pitched instruments, he chose instruments so as to be able to blend intonation-wise. In 
most cases he emulated Mason-Battley?s tonal clarity and purity of intonation. Similarly, 
in cases where Nunns played rougher sounding instruments like the more ?brassy? p t -
rino or p kaea, Mason-Battley took on a rougher edge to his tone. 
This music is fundamentally atmospheric ? the compositions, based primarily on repeti-
tive ostinatos and two chord vamps, don?t tend to feature melodic or harmonic develop-
ment. The music operates by lulling the listener and ?sweet? sounds and a dream-like 
impressionistic palate are its mainstays. The rhetorical force of the music is rooted in 
displays of the players? technical competence, made manifest in pure intonation, clean 
articulation and ensemble playing that featuring call and response and unisonal execution 
of head arrangements.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 241 
 
Esthetically this music and these displays of technical competence are evaluated and 
framed in comparison with established genre (i.e., ?cool jazz,? ?world music,? ?fusion,? 
et cetera) and the rhetorical force of the music relies on expectations conditioned in large 
part by external cultural forces that are based on an international marketplace.  
Indeed it can be argued that jazz is not a native art form in New Zealand ? the identi-
fication of the music in this performance as ?European Jazz? is significant in this regard. 
The ?cultural elements? of this performance ? its connection with M ori, the whakapapa 
of the instruments, et cetera ? were limited to loose, and somewhat tenuous associations 
consisting of the use of M ori place names in titles, vague references in the program 
notes, and presentation and reliance on the perception of some kind of inherent M oriness 
in the instruments and in the presence of Richard Nunns, who is not M ori. Ultimately 
there was very little in the performance to indicate that the M ori instruments had any 
more relevance than any of the other ?exotic? instruments that jazz and world music 
performers have incorporated for their novelty in the past. That is not to say that this 
connection cannot be made in some circumstances, however. 
While this performance may have been superficial in its presentation of connections 
between M ori and European cultures, the shortcomings may be seen as more a function 
of context and the exposition or setting out of cultural referents. In the next section I 
explore the collaboration of Richard Nunns and taonga p oro with composer Gillian 
Whitehead that may have deeper cultural relevance. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 242 
 
Classical: Gillian Whitehead with Richard Nunns 
In this section, I will explore recorded performances of two Gillian Whitehead 
compositions that incorporate taonga p oro and that were written with Richard Nunns?s 
playing in mind. Gillian Whitehead approaches a synthesis of M ori and European music 
in a variety of ways. She has used M ori language in titles, lyrics, and librettos; taonga 
p oro, cultural (and intercultural) themes, and thematic materials, et cetera. Her work 
generally reflects a desire to explore a range of possible interactions between M ori and 
European culture via music. 
Naumai E Te Ao Marama 
Whitehead's work ?Naumai e te ao marama? (welcome to the world of light) accommo-
dates M ori language, instruments and improvisation. Like all of her work, it uses stan-
dard European notation and this piece is cast in the European art song genre. It is scored 
for ?voices and koauau? with M ori language lyrics. The title and heading of the score 
(see excerpts in Figure 15 and Figure 16) use M ori terms to indicate the lyricist and 
composer (?Tuhituhi: Tungia Baker; Rangi: Gillian Whitehead?). 
 
Figure 15. Score fragment of ?Naumai e te ao marama,? measures 1-12. Tuhituhi: Tangia 
Baker; Rangi: Gillian Whitehead. Used with permission of the composer. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 243 
 
There are several other features of the piece that may be read as accommodations of 
M oritanga in a Western art music framework. The piece, which is scored around a 
keynote C, uses modal and chromatic elements to mimic the compressed range and asso-
ciated non-tonal characteristics of the k auau?s melodic compass.  There are no tempo 
indications in the score and the pacing of the piece seems to be cued by the improvised 
introduction. Similarly Whitehead uses shifting time signatures (4/4, 3/4, 9/8, 3/2, 7/4, 
5/4, 15/8, 4/2, et cetera) to accommodate M ori language phrasing in the lyrics.  
The piece begins with solo k auau. Measures of rest marked with score directions calling 
initially for ?k auau [sic] ponga ihu? (noseflute) and subsequently shortened to ?k auau,? 
alternate with extended passages for voice in the first half of the score. No pitches or 
durations are specified for the k auau and the player is freely improvises the solo part. A 
score indication at measure 34 calls for the k auau to improvise a duet with the scored 
vocal part by indicating, ?with k auau to end.? There are no tempo or mood indications 
in the score. 
In performance, the actual pitching of the piece sounds a half step below the written 
keynote (C sounds as B) in order to match the pitch and accommodate the natural range 
of the k auau used for the performance. The tempo is slow and the basic beat/syllable 
unit is an eighth note at approximately 90 b.p.m.  
The modal character of the piece is minor. There is emphasis on the flat seventh of the 
scale, and a basic motivic unit is formed between the keynote, the flat seventh and the 
minor third with a rising ninth and a falling flat ninth. (See bar 7 in score fragment 
above). This motive is based on the range of the koauau and represents a native melodic 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 244 
 
configuration (i.e., most easily played melody) for the instrument. K auau player Richard 
Nunns also utilizes a raised seventh with its strong implication of a melodic minor scale 
with a cadence on C
47
 in his opening improvisation. (See example below.)  
 
Figure 16. ?Naumai e te ao marama,? improvised k auau introduction transcribed ? appears 
at score measure 1. 
 
It is interesting to note that this introductory passage, which sets the tone for the piece, 
could easily have been scored. The fact that this critical passage is left to the player is an 
indication of Whitehead?s estimation of Nunns?s playing, but it also an indication of her 
willingness to accommodate improvisation as a significant element of the composition. 
In ?Naumai te ao marama,? Whitehead uses several devices including shifting meter to 
accommodate M ori language lyrics, and taonga p oro and improvisation as a composi-
tional elements that effects thematic material, tempo, and mood. In Hine-pu-te-hue, she 
develops and extends this hybrid, M ori-European musical language. 
Hine-pu-te-hue 
?Hine-pu-te-hue for taonga p oru [sic] and string quartet? takes a more comprehensive 
approach to combining traditional European instruments and scoring techniques with 
M ori instruments and cultural content. In this piece, Gillian Whitehead uses diverse 
                                                
47
 Sounds B natural. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 245 
 
compositional techniques to not only accommodate a variety of M ori instruments and 
timbres, but also to create a context where European instrumentalists are asked to 
incorporate unusual or unfamiliar playing techniques in order to produce timbres that are 
complementary to those of the M ori instruments as played by Richard Nunns. 
Accommodations extend beyond playing techniques to include melodic and structural 
elements, and even cultural elements as she seeks to (re-)construct not just how music is 
played, but how it is heard. 
The process of reconstruction of such symbolic (and interactive) attributes of music takes 
place not only on stage, but also in the institutional arena. In a manifestation of 
institutional interest in encouraging sanctioned identity performances, this piece was 
commissioned for the New Zealand String Quartet (NZSQ) and Richard Nunns by the 
New Zealand International Festival of the Arts, a biannual festival held in Wellington, the 
capital city that features high quality performances from around the world. The Festival 
relies heavily on funding from both government and private sources. And this 
commission represents an institutional investment in, and affirmation of Whitehead, 
Nunns, and the NZSQ ? they are being held up as an outstanding institutional example 
of New Zealand arts and its unique culture. 
Program Notes: Constructing How the Music Is Heard 
The program notes that accompany the score to Hine-pu-te-hue establish a lexical context 
for the piece. The title of the piece is a reference to the goddess Hine-pu-te-hue (literally 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 246 
 
?woman of the sounding gourd?), who has elsewhere been called the ?goddess of flute 
music.?
48
 Whitehead says: 
Hine-pu-te-hue is the name of the M ori goddess of peace. Goddesses, or wahine atua, in 
pre-European times may have been on a par with the gods who are still influential today, 
but relatively little knowledge of the wahine atua exists today. They are acknowledged by 
many iwi (tribes), but are not recognised by others, although their names occur in the 
older traditional chats. This is because the ethnomusicologists in the early nineteenth 
century (when Aotearoa/New Zealand was colonised by the British) were male, as were 
most of their informants, and thus relatively little knowledge of the wahine atua exists 
today.
49
 
 
By highlighting the maleness of 19th century ?ethnomusicologists,? and their British ori-
gins as an explanation for a dearth of current knowledge of wahine atua (and by exten-
sion, contemporary M ori and New Zealand culture), Whitehead?s narrative addresses 
and shapes perceptions of how gender has been and is represented and performed in 
M ori, British, and New Zealand cultures.  
This story resonates as an extension of the ?better Britain? narrative. It may also be seen 
as a reiteration of salvage ethnography narratives that are based on some idealized 
notions of M ori culture in its pre-European state, and that are sometimes used to lend 
force to contemporary reconstruction efforts. Whitehead tacitly suggests the direction that 
reconstruction might take ? rhetorically she propounds and, through the music, invites 
an affective investment in a quasi-utopic vision of cultural and gender equity. 
Whitehead proceeds by developing potential points of mutual understandings ?
tangencies between cultures based on overlapping narratives of European and M ori 
instruments and techniques. In her notes, she draws similarities and connections between 
                                                
48
 See Flintoff 2004. 
49
 Programme notes, ?Hine-pu-te-hue,? Gillian Whitehead 2002.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 247 
 
M ori and European instruments mentioning natural materials used in construction, 
playing techniques including ororuarangi
50
 which she translates as either ?spirit voices, 
or as double stopping? and which she says ?had some influence on the piece as in the 
parallel movement of the strings.?   
Stating her intention to retain elements of traditional and historical functionality of ng  
taonga p oro in her composition, Whitehead attempts to build mutual understandings and 
to construct and draw the audience into a cultural sphere where M ori and European are 
in close proximity. She notes that the p tatara is used to ?announce? events, describes the 
p kaea as a ?war trumpet,? and associates the various gourd instruments (poi awhio-
whio,
51
 hue puru hau, et cetera) with quietness. She draws the attention of the listener to 
tapping instruments like pate pounamu
52
 and tumutumu
53
 and how they will be echoed or 
accompanied by the European strings using the wooden stick of the bow, col legno 
battuto. Whitehead also makes clear to the audience that the music is reflexive, and that 
the European musicians are impacted by the non-Western elements of the composition. 
So, after describing Richard Nunns as an ?improvising musician? in the program, she 
                                                
50
 Literally ?sound of two melodies,? ororuarangi is described by Moorfield as, ?A long flute made from 
the stem of a gourd or toroa wing bone with two finger holes side by side. (John C. Moorfield, Te M huri 
Textbook (2
nd
 Edition): 164).? Quoted in the online Te Aka M ori-English, English-M ori Dictionary, 
http://www.maoridictionary.co.nz/maori/index.cfm?dictionaryKeywords=ororuarangi&search.x=48&searc
h.y=11&search=search&n=1&idiom=&phrase=&proverb=&loan=, 4/4/2008. 
51
 A small gourd with its neck cut off and one or two small holes cut in the body, the poi awhiowhio makes 
a very quiet whooshing and whistling sound by being swung about at the end of a long string. 
52
 Pate pounamu is a piece of greenstone (New Zealand jade) that is suspended from a chord and struck. It 
is an idiophone of indefinite pitch that makes a resonant, almost bell-like percussive sound.  
53
 Tumutumu is an unpitched idiophone, usually made of bone or stone, that is struck to make a tapping 
sound. 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 248 
 
states that, ?All four string players are also asked to improvise from time to time, as well 
as play gourd rattles at the opening and tapped stones at the end.?  
Whitehead?s constructive narrative extends from the program notes to the score itself. 
And her communications with the musicians (through the score) are also generative of a 
musical community of close cultural proximities.  
Performance 
In ?Hine-pu-te-hue,? Whitehead expands her timbral palette to include a greater variety 
of taonga p oro than in some other pieces. She also uses a greater variety of techniques in 
order to musically and socially bring the music and the musicians into a commensurate 
?space.? 
In the opening sections of Hine-pu-te-hue, there are no metric markings. Instead sections 
are delineated by timings in seconds. The piece begins with Nunns striking the pate 
pounamu very slowly at a poco f (slightly forte) dynamic while the members of the string 
quartet intermittently play gourd rattles (take taonga puoru). The score indication is to 
play the gourds ?gently and intermittently? at a pp (pianissimo) dynamic. This simple 
device has some profound effects and implications: it allows classical musicians to ?get 
their feet wet? on unfamiliar territory by making tentativeness a virtue in the context of 
the score. It also establishes a ?sound world? where the M ori instruments and the sounds 
they make are fundamental to the overall integrity of the piece. The act of manipulating 
objects that have an unfamiliar cultural referent essentially causes the classical musicians 
to embody themselves within the new referent.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 249 
 
For example, avoidance metric time also has the effect of making a ?level playing field? 
? metric precision is backgrounded by the use of durations because all the musicians 
must work to an approximation. At 30 seconds into the piece, Nunns changes to poi 
awhiowhio.  The string players take up their more conventional instruments at this point, 
but their tonal material is based on the rushing sound of the whirling gourd ? a Doppler-
like pitch effect that approximates the sound of a rising and falling half step as the gourd 
whirls around. Whitehead notates this a pitch cell and she uses it as the seed for a more 
extended response in the first and second violins. String ?melodies,? are played con sord 
sul tasto (with a mute and over the fingerboard) at a ppp (pianississimo) dynamic so as 
not to drown out the soft gourd, but also to reinforce the sense that the violin lines are an 
accompaniment ? an extension of and response to the little gourd.  
Similarly the cello is given tremolando glisses that swell (from p to mp) and imitate the 
rushing sound of the whirling gourd. It isn?t until a point approximately 73 seconds into 
the piece, that the dynamic level of the strings is allowed to in any sense dominate the 
gourd. And it isn?t until 92 seconds have elapsed on the score (at the second bar after 
letter A) that metric time is introduced. At this stage of the piece, the strings are 
instructed to play at the ?tempo of poi awhiowhio. However the piece almost 
immediately reverts to non-metric time and score instructions indicate varying durations 
for set pitches by the fifth measure after letter A.  
Fluid time characterizes most of the piece. Score indications calling for ?rapid repetitions 
of figure, out of phase,? ?vary duration,? ?vary attacks ? duration and style (pizz, 
pizz/gliss, arco, etc.) and pitch within the tone,? ?rapid figurations on given pitches, 
spasmodic, out of phase, occasional rests of varied length,? abound throughout the score.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 250 
 
There are also metrical sections, but they are short and insterspersed with long, non-
metrical sections. The more metrical sections tend to feature all four strings playing 
together and the longest unbroken metrical passage (fourth bar after letter E to letter H, b. 
91-120) on the performance that I analyzed was approximately 60 seconds. And even this 
section featured a M ori instrument, the ku (a stringed instrument resembling a berimbau 
played for a light percussive effect resembling the sul tasto col legno battuto playing of 
the Eruropean strings), and was broken by measures of rest in the viola and violin parts 
where the ku is clearly heard over a sustained cello chord (on open G and D strings). 
Harmonically, this composition is contrapuntal but non-tonal. Stylistically it most closely 
resembles Bartok?s implementation of odd meter dances and folk materials in non-tonal 
composition that deftly avoids tonality. Whitehead maintains interest by weaving 
combinations of intricate rhythmic (but, in a break with Bartok, not necessarily metrical) 
patterns with a broad timbral palette. The music convinces largely by mainting timbral 
variety and exploiting the virtuosity of upper echelon players. Whitehead?s technique 
emulates Bartok in this regard and her command of the idiom is masterful, but she also 
adds a lexical dimension by appealing to a seductive local narrative. 
The ultimate impact of Whitehead?s composition is to establish a musical and rhetorical 
balance between European strings and M ori taonga p oro, a ?musical space? in which 
neither ?culture? is particularly dominant, but in which they are mutually and (reflex-
ively) responsive.  
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 251 
 
Chapter Summary 
Through field encounters and interviews, this chapter relates stories of people involved in 
the Taonga P oro movement as they interact across cultural lines to reconstruct M ori 
musical instruments, and revive and rediscover playing techniques, and rewrite and re-
contextualize the narratives associated with themselves and the instruments. The sub-
textual intent of the chapter is to show ways that mana M ori and mana Pakeha, as 
distinct mechanisms by which people accrue and create value in cultures, may reflexively 
construct each other. 
The chapter begins with the early career of the movement and the trio of two Pakehas and 
one M ori, Brian Flintoff, Richard Nunns, and Hirini Melbourne, who are generally 
credited with starting the revival. I contextualize the Taonga P oro movement, which 
emerged in the early 1980s, in relation to a general renaissance in M ori language and 
culture that was burgeoning at the same time.  
After a brief introduction, I present a series of (primarily) interview-based narratives 
about the movement, its proponents, and its significance. In addition to interviews, I also 
present entextualized ?voices? for purposes of comparison and to represent some ways 
that the nascent movement is becoming institutionalized. I parse interviews by 
?viewpoint?:  Richard Nunns?s is represented as a ?Pakeha viewpoint,? Rangiiria Hed-
ley?s as a ?M ori Traditional view,? and Horomona Horo?s is presented as an ?Urban 
M ori view.? In my commentary on and framing of each of these interviews, I extract 
elements of a metanarrative that represents what I ?heard? in the testimony of each 
person. (These metanarratives are summed and parsed further in Chapter Six.) 
Chapter 4: Taonga P oro Encounters 252 
 
In the second half of the chapter, ?Performing Taonga P oro,? I present a series of 
encounters in the field at sites where various proponents of the Taonga P oro movement 
were performing on the instruments. These sites included the first Parihaka International 
Peace Festival, which took place at Parihaka Pa (a traditional M ori settlement with deep 
historical associations for M ori and Pakeha), and a ?European Jazz? concert at the 
University of Auckland. The chapter closes with an analysis of scores and recordings of 
two Gillian Whitehead compositions that use ng  taonga p oro played by Richard Nunns 
in classical music contexts. 
253 
 
Chapter 5 
Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika  
in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 
 
In the preceding chapters (Ratana Encounter and Taonga P oro), I examined encounters 
among M ori and Pakeha bicultural ?partners? with regard to their contemporary situ-
atedness: in relation to one another and to their shared cumulative history. This chapter 
deals primarily with newer arrivals and how they frame and attempt to construct tradi-
tions and histories against this bicultural backdrop, which also constitutes an institutional 
inertia that has generally been preoccupied with longer-term relationships and interac-
tions ? i.e., with settling old scores ? between M ori and Pakeha.  
While it is beyond the scope of this dissertation to parse the experience of every immi-
grant group, many newcomer groups have experiences in common and may be seen to be 
at different points or stages of a similar path. I have chosen some sites and case studies 
that reflect some of these common experiences. 
Newcomers lack the advantages of long-term (and widely diffused) shared histories and 
mutually constructed identities and understandings of one another that serve M ori and 
Pakeha. Consequently, newcomers tend not to be deeply or effectively embedded in the 
country?s institutional infrastructure and so must seek to position themselves within exist-
ing institutions that may not have anticipated them. Similarly, the reflexive impacts of 
immigrants on existing institutions to mold or reshape those institutions tend to flow 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 254 
 
outward from point sources as the narrative of their belonging diffuses into the popu-
lation at large.   
Music ? its adaptation and reconstruction ? is an important strategy that groups employ 
in order to establish themselves, and to literally transplant aspects of themselves and their 
home cultures into the new place. Music may be used in order to bring about group 
cohesion in the new place. In general, and in the first instance as a matter of simple 
survival, individual migrants set out to create a tolerable environment ? a situation that 
they ?can live with? ? in the new place. As a matter of practicality, many, if not most 
individuals will group together with others with some shared history and culture to 
enhance their survivability in the new place ? through networking, mutual support, 
shared strategies, et cetera. And beyond issues of immediate, short-term survivability and 
momentary tolerability, groups generally seek to establish themselves in a way that 
allows for long-term viability and growth ? they seek to establish a sense of belonging 
and ownership in their new ?home.?  
Music is a way for groups to affectively engage with one another in the new place in 
order to make it feel like home. Indeed, music may be a focal point for the construction 
of new group identities ? the collective redefinition of who ?we? are in the new place 
may be facilitated by construction of shared histories based on familiar repertoires, 
performative practices, and shared musical tastes.
1
  
                                                
1
 Issues of construction of situated group identities as associated with Blumer?s emergent phase of collec-
tive definition are discussed in Chapter Six. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 255 
 
Music is also a means for others to engage with and accept groups of newcomers. In 
order to establish themselves, newcomers must orient themselves by constructing new 
referents in order to build a sense of where and who they are as they look out on the 
world, but they must also do so in order to become visible ? to enable others to see them 
in a manner that is commensurate with their vision of themselves.
2
 Perhaps even more 
importantly, establishing who they are in the new place is not only an essential prerequi-
site for retention and maintenance of some static notion of their identities, it is also a 
determinant of continuing viability ? their ability to grow, shape, and achieve their 
possibilities and aspirations. An important question is whether and how an individual or a 
group might (passively) be defined by others, or how they might take a pro-active role in 
defining themselves.  
In the narratives that I follow, I examine situations and testimonies of Keneti Muaiava, a 
Samoan-born, New Zealand-educated master of Samoan traditional performance; Sylves-
ter Gahungu, a Burundian refugee who leads a group of drummers who seek to emulate 
the iconic status of haka with their imported musical culture; and a group of teachers and 
alumni of the Whitireia Performing Arts group at Whitireia Community Polytechnic in 
Porirua, New Zealand.   
I parse performances where these others articulate with other New Zealander groups. I 
am particularly interested in how performances are mediated institutionally. I take 
moments from performances including the Burundians in an abbreviated M ori powhiri 
and at an annual International Festival, sponsored by the RMS Refugee Resettlement 
                                                
2
 The process of engaging with others to construct identity both inside and outside of the group corresponds 
to the legitimation phase of Blumer?s process of collective definition and is discussed in Chapter Six. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 256 
 
Agency; groups of ethnically identified high school students at the annual ASB (Auck-
land Savings Bank) ?Polyfest? Secondary School Competition; and an in-depth look at a 
dress rehearsal as alumni and students of the Whitireia Performing Arts Program at 
Whitireia Community Polytechnic prepare for a performance. 
Keneti Muaiava?s experience mirrors that of many other ?newcomers? to New Zealand 
who would seek to retain and grow their identities in the new place. Born in Samoa and 
raised from childhood in New Zealand, his narrative of his redefinition of Samoan 
performing arts in the new place is illustrative of the pro-active construction of 
?tradition? and of viable diasporic group identities. 
Constructing Tradition: Keneti Muaiava 
Keneti Muaiava
3
 was 33 years old when I interviewed him in 2006. I met him through 
ethnomusicologist Richard Moyle, who invited me to a guest lecture that Muaiava was 
giving for one of Moyle?s undergraduate ethnomusicology classes at Auckland Univer-
sity. Following the lecture, Muaiava invited me to a dance class he was conducting at 
another part of the University (see Figure 1). The following week, I picked Muaiava up at 
his home in South Auckland and we drove to a nearby park where we sat in the car and 
talked. 
Muaiava was born in Samoa and his family immigrated to New Zealand in 1974, when he 
was 8 months old. Speaking of migration of Pacific Island peoples, Muaiava says: 
                                                
3
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Keneti Muaiava interviewed by H. Anderson, 
4/19/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 257 
 
From the 1950s all the way to the 1980s Pacific Islanders migrated. They went to 
America, Australia, and my dad chose New Zealand for a better life. 
 
Muaiava comes from a long line of dancers steeped in Samoan tradition: 
My father, my uncles, my grandfather, my grandfather?s brothers, [Samoan dance is] in 
the blood. I?m named after my great uncle ? his name is Keneti and he was one of the 
first to introduce fire dancing and knife dancing in Samoa. 
 
The introduction of fire and knife dances into the ?traditional? repertoire is a significant 
aspect of Muaiava?s legacy as both a keeper and a maker of tradition. 
 
 
Figure 1. A group of students practicing a Samoan fan dance in a class taught by Muaiava at 
the University of Auckland in 2006. 
 
Muaiava stresses that his upbringing in New Zealand was strongly rooted in Samoan 
tradition and, unlike most Samoans raised in New Zealand, he is fluent in the Samoan 
language. He attributes his fluency to the fact that his father would allow only Samoan to 
be spoken in the home: 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 258 
 
My father was not educated. He went to school up to Standard Four. When we came to 
New Zealand [we had]?a very strict upbringing. My father ? like a lot of men of his 
generation ? felt intimidated when his kids would speak English. So Samoan is my first 
language, although I probably sound like English is my first. I?m very fluent. There are 
probably kids at university in Samoa who?can?t speak Samoan as fluent as me, maybe. 
People think I grew up in [the South Auckland suburb of] Mangere ? I grew up in 
Samoa. I mean, I grew up in New Zealand, but the way we lived was Samoan ? all 
based around church, family. It wasn?t based around the [horse] races or things that were 
European
4
 ?Samoan society [is] about family and church whether here or anywhere. 
 
Muaiava learned Samoan dance from his father who is acknowledged as an authority by 
the local Samoan community: 
In New Zealand and in Auckland, if you wanted to do anything ? straight away they?d 
give my dad a call. He was the go-to man [for] fairs, festivals. My dad worked in a paper 
factory making jib board. He?d bring rolls of paper home, and he?d compose all these 
songs ? in the garage, anytime. On the fork hoist, my dad would be writing music. 
When I was three or four [years old], I?d follow my dad and I?d pick up all his skills. 
He?d teach me the guitar, the drum, teach me the different types of drumming. So I was 
getting a formal lesson. It was very much a formal traditional lesson. 
 
Muaiava talked about what ?composing music? means in a Samoan context: 
[My father] was lyrical ? Samoans traditionally took European tunes and my father 
would be very good at fitting Samoan words into those tunes. He cannot read music but 
he can write music in a Samoan context. 
 
Muaiava is proud of his dance lineage: 
My dad says [speaks Samoan]?that means, ?You come from Samoan dance royalty.? 
When he says that, it makes me feel proud. When he says that, it means, ?You?ve got that 
bloodline, don?t stuff it up?.? 
 
Muaiava?s construction of how Samoan dance is transmitted traditionally ? in a lineage 
and as an unbroken link ? corresponds to some standard notions of the ?tradition 
bearer.?
5
 However, his ideas about the meaning of tradition have developed as he has 
                                                
4
 This is a reference to a construction of post World War II New Zealand (male) vernacular culture 
(particularly in the 1960s) as being primarily interested in ?rugby, racing, and beer.? See http:// www.teara. 
govt.nz/NewZealanders/NewZealandPeoples/TheNewZealanders/10/en, 11/29/07. 
5
 See Burnim 1985; Jones 2000; Chiener 2002; et cetera. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 259 
 
responded to criticism of his performance. And Muaiava has come to see tradition as 
being fundamentally functional and responsive to changing conditions.  
Among Samoans in New Zealand, Muaiava has become the ?go-to? guy in his generation 
for authoritative commentary on, and authentic performance of, Samoan dance. The 
growth of his stature among the New Zealand Samoan community has not only enabled 
him to act as a conservator, but also to innovate with authority. Ultimately, the kinds of 
innovations that Muaiava sees himself making are extensions of tradition, but with an 
understanding of tradition as something that necessarily changes with the time and place, 
and from generation to generation. He spoke about the evolution in his thinking about 
?tradition? and its meaning in a contemporary context: 
Ten years ago Samoans thought ?traditional? was a concrete term. For me, I was the first 
to start realizing things about Samoan dance in the past and the present. Ten years ago we 
had women in charge of festivals saying, ?You?re not traditional.? [And] I?d think, ?What 
are you talking about?? I started to analyze and then realized about 90% of the dances I 
grew up in had all been changed. Contemporary Samoan dance means this: Samoan 
dance for that time. The whole traditional aspect was more abstract; it was more in the 
mind. Physically the dances were contemporary. People couldn?t contemplate that. 
 
As an example, Muaiava noted that the Samoan ?traditional? call and response chant 
Buffalo and Tiger (where the call ?Buffalo? is met with the response ?moo? and simi-
larly, ?Tiger? is met with ?grrr?) is based on two animals that have never existed in 
Samoa. Yet ?every Samoan around the world would say that?s a traditional chant.? 
Rice notes that some cultures ?possess a strong sense of the distant past being appro-
priated for contemporary use and a corresponding sense of discontinuity between past 
and present.?
6
 Muaiava?s evolving notions of tradition reflect a historiographic con-
                                                
6
 Rice 1994: 13. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 260 
 
sciousness that he uses to in a sense ?fix? a line between ?old? and ?new.? However, he 
sees this line in motion, and the kind of ?fixing? he is talking about represents a process 
by which contemporary performances may become ?traditional,? thereby repairing Rice?s 
?discontinuity.? The fact that people who once challenged the ?traditional? status of 
Muaiava?s performances now consider him more as a resource and an authority shows 
that he is succeeding in injecting this enhanced historiographic view into public dis-
course.  
Muaiava maintains that Samoan attitudes to tradition have shifted from generation to 
generation, particularly as the result of migration. Education was not emphasized in 
Samoa but he says, ?New Zealand is a country where education?is probably the number 
one priority for kids.? Speaking of his father?s generation, Muaiava says ?they took 
Samoan dance and suited it for their time.? But his father didn?t have the same level of 
critical pressure from earlier generations:  
What?s interesting is, my dad would say he didn?t get that pressure from the older 
generation. I said, ?Hey dad, what was it like for your parents when you started coming 
out with these new sa sa dances?? [But his parents] didn?t say much [about it]. [His 
parents felt] that [their children had] education [and] that they were uneducated, so they 
thought the kids born in the 40s, 50s and 60s ? all power to them.  
 
But Muaiava feels that things have turned around for current generations and that earlier 
generations ? particularly from the 1940s, 50s and 60s ? after innovating and con-
structing a particular vision of ?tradition,? have then attempted to lock that vision of 
tradition into place: 
Earlier generations thought this is how it should be. Unfortunately, culture is revolving 
[sic]. Samoans have come to that point where we?ve got so many problems now. We took 
a time of our society and thought, ?We?ve got everything right and it?s going to stay like 
that.? That?s not the case. Years of history have shown us that ? generation after 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 261 
 
generation ? we all make mistakes. But problems come when you believe your parents? 
generation got it right and that?s the way to live for a million years. 
Muaiava addressed the problem of establishing his authority to update Samoan dance ? 
to remake it in a way that it serves current generations of Samoans while retaining 
authenticity: 
The dances that we have today came from something?and I call it the link. When that 
migration came in the 50s and 60s, my father [had] done his apprenticeship. When I took 
[the tradition] from him I maintained the link. 
 
He feels that some people who represent themselves as doing ?Samoan dance? do not 
have sufficient grounding in the tradition: 
The unfortunate thing is?you?ve got other people [who] did not maintain the ?link? and 
then say, ?This is Samoan dance.? That?s where I have a problem. 
 
The problem also comes when people confuse a dancer with Samoan genealogy with a 
dancer who actually practices Samoan dance. In a lecture to an ethnomusicology class at 
the University of Auckland, Muaiava talked about being compared to another Samoan 
dancer: 
They would compare me with Neil Ieremia from Black Grace
7
 ? anyone familiar with 
Black Grace [knows that] they are a very renowned New Zealand dance company, an 
amazing dance company. They had to understand that Neil and I were both Samoans that 
grew up in New Zealand. However Neil was not trained in Samoan dance as I was?and I 
wasn?t trained in contemporary dance like Neil was.  
 
In my interview with Muaiava, he talked about people like Neil Ieremia as latecomers to 
the Samoan dance tradition who are relatively unschooled in Samoan dance and without a 
sufficient commitment to the form to truly represent the tradition: 
                                                
7
 Founded by Neil Ieremia, Black Grace is a modern dance company comprised mostly of dancers of M ori 
and Pacific Island descent.  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 262 
 
The only thing I?ve always done is dance. Eight months of my year, every year, is 
devoted to dancing. That?s what I meant ? to have someone else saying ?this is Samoan 
dance? really pisses me off. Neil Ieremia decided he was going to dance when he was 19. 
I?d like to know what he did from [age] zero to nineteen. People say, ?you shouldn?t be 
shooting bullets,? [but] I want to justify to my ancestors [who are] crying to me saying, 
?You! Hold that flag up!? It?s not personal. When you take an ethnic dance, you?re 
playing with a lot of ancestors, you?re playing with a thousand-year old game. 
 
The terms ?hollow? and ?hollow categories? have been applied by anthropologists and 
others to aspects of identity and cultural performance that are seen as being moot or etic-
ally constructed taxonomies externally applied to cultural or ethnic groups, particularly in 
colonial contexts. As time goes on, these categories may come to be emically accepted as 
?tradition.? Levine (following Ardener) speaks of the construction of new identities in 
post-colonial New Zealand and New Guinea as a ?transformation of categorical labels 
into identities? as people ?fill in? hollow categories by internalizing and growing into 
them.
8
  
Muaiava?s concern is based on the notion that, if ?Samoan dance? is just any dance that is 
performed by a person of Samoan descent, then there is nothing about the dance itself 
that makes it Samoan. He is clearly invested in ?maintaining the link? between contem-
porary performance and what has gone before. This investment is based in part on his 
personal family involvement and his sense of responsibility to a larger Samoan, and 
particularly Samoan immigrant, community. He is also invested in the notion that cultural 
content is ?real? ? that there is some quasi-objective ?thing? that can (and should) be 
passed on. Muaiava?s concern ? his passion ? is that Samoan dance should not become 
an empty vessel, devoid of cultural meaning and unconnected with a Samoan (as opposed 
                                                
8
 Levine 1995: 170. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 263 
 
to New Zealand) past. At the same time, he is also concerned that contemporary construc-
tions of the tradition serve present and future Samoans.  
Sociologist Camille Nakhid, speaking of a ?passion? for establishing cultural and ethnic 
identity on the part of Pacific and other immigrants who suffer the ?contradictory and 
conflicting conditions surrounding displacement and migration? in New Zealand, says:  
In constructing our identity, we build (with what we know of our past and our historical 
experiences), using the present to shape how we see who we are. That is not all that 
forms our identity. It is hollow unless we fill within it visions of what we hold for 
ourselves in the future, and how we see ourselves being. It is not only the state of being 
who we are, but who we are to become.
9
 
 
The difference in viewpoint between Nakhid and Levine is largely one of emphasis: 
Nakhid, speaking in the first person, looks to the future as an insider, or at least a partici-
pant in the process; whereas Levine?s view is focused on the impact of etic analytic 
processes as origins. Muaiava?s viewpoint is mediant between these views: his view 
resembles Nakhid?s in that he is looking to the future, but he retains a concern with 
origins; his view differs in emphasis from Levine?s because he is not as much concerned 
with the imposition of categorical labels as ?the? starting point, but instead as elements of 
embodied functional and historical processes whose actual origins predate the analytic 
orientation (and colonial mentality) of Western social science (and retain significant pre-
Western content).  
Similarly, notions of authenticity vis ? vis what constitutes the ?real? has divergent affec-
tive significance for insiders and outsiders, and for producers and consumers of music. 
Stokes notes that notions of authenticity and hybridity are opposed in world music 
                                                
9
 Nakhid 2003: 303. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 264 
 
discourse. He says that both popular and academic discourses, ?prioritize hybridity 
aesthetically, ethnographically, and politically and are skeptical about, if not openly 
hostile to, the ideas and practices associated with authenticity.?
10
 
In this discourse, outsiders search for a means to assess musical outputs of some group. 
However, the construction of what is ?real? for people like Muaiava ? who personally 
and immediately embody their metonymic cultures as active producers and without the 
consumerist posture of academic and popular audiences ? is born of a sense of 
responsibility to an owned heritage. Muaiava?s criteria for judging what is real or 
?authentic? is based on a combination of analysis and lived experience and his experience 
is inclusive of both hybrid (European and other environmental influences), and ?essen-
tial? elements associated with history and pre-history ? ancient, primeval, primordial ? 
associated with, but not defined by blood links.  
As an outgrowth of lived experience, Muaiava sees Samoan dance as coming out of acti-
vities that are a normal part of any gathering of Samoan people. As a result, cultural 
competitions and festivals have become a major site for ?traditional? performance in 
recent times. Muaiava says:  
Samoan dance comes about when you have Samoans congregating, whether it?s church 
opening, funeral, et cetera ? that was the traditional method of dance until competition 
came along. 
 
According to Muaiava, the lape, a kind of mocking chant heard during kilikiti matches 
(the Samoan version of British cricket that has become Samoa?s ?national game?), is an 
example of the recent emergence of a Samoan ?traditional? performance: 
                                                
10
 Stokes 2004: 59. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 265 
 
When cricket came about, that?s when the lape came about. Kilikiti, they took a western 
form and thought, ?we?ll put our own spin on this.? The lape, when you see them per-
forming, that?s probably the 50s and 60s that came about, showed that Samoan dance 
comes about when you have Samoans congregating, whether it?s church opening, funeral, 
et cetera That was the traditional method of dance until competition came along. [Chants] 
?The fire?s gone to your side? It?s your turn,? to the other cricket side?. It?s really good 
when you have a lape; I?ve got a video?of family reunions and they?ll do the same 
thing; it?ll be my mum?s family and then my dad?s family. It?ll be the family that can do 
the craziest thing ? not so much explicitly ? but the most comedic thing?it?s about 
mocking ? the pitch goes up every time. It was all in good spirit. 
 
The point is that performances develop ?traditionally? in response to new and evolving 
performative contexts. And situations where Samoans gather are also sites where new 
performances begin to become institutionalized. This is evident in dance competitions, 
which have become a site where performances (and performers) are validated by the 
Samoan community. In large measure Muaiava derives his ?authority? and finds valida-
tion for his interpretation of Samoan dance from a combination of his lineage and com-
munity acknowledgment and reinforcement at competitions:  
I?ve come to the conclusion [that] you?ve got to grow up in whatever dance form your 
parents were doing, that?s tradition, whether it be untraditional or contemporary. I feel I 
have a right now ? a lot of people know in my generation that Keneti is the man for 
dance. I?ve done my apprenticeship. Samoan dance is very specific. We had competitions 
and an arena where you can say you?re actually better to everybody else.? I?m the first 
to win the grand slam ? the four main dance competitions. 
  
He enumerated a list of competitions held in New Zealand and Samoa: 
[The] biggest is the Samoan Catholic competition in New Zealand. It?s the longest 
running and biggest in New Zealand ? no one had it in Samoa. ?This competition 
started in 1968 and it?s still going on this year. The other one is the ASB festival. That?s a 
school festival, so you?ve got kids, but I still count it as a Samoan dance competition. The 
other one is the So?o, where students from all over ? universities around New Zealand 
? [compete]. I?ve won that competition. [And] I?m the only one that?s taken a group 
from outside Samoa to win Teuila. [At] Teuila, they only make their own win. For me to 
take a group from outside Samoa and actually win that ? I?ve proved my point. 
 
Winning competitions in both Samoa and New Zealand has allowed Muaiava to assert a 
trans-oceanic Samoan-ness and to assert his claim to authenticity and establish himself as 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 266 
 
an authoritative voice. This in turn allows him to begin to rewrite Samoan tradition in a 
way that benefits Samoans in diaspora. Muaiava uses traditional music and dance as a 
vehicle for adapting to and managing contemporary circumstances. He uses performance 
as a way to negotiate compromise between rigidly held values from the old country and 
new ones that subsequent generations must accommodate if not adopt in New Zealand. 
He feels that this compromise is necessary for young Samoans to survive. He says:  
That?s why my generation are getting into trouble ? we?ve got to come to a compromise. 
We believe in fa?a Samoa [the traditional ?Samoan way? of being and doing] and its code 
of ethics. However, the fa?a Samoa is 60 years old, no probably a 100. When [mis-
sionary] John Williams arrived in 1830, fa?a Samoan lifted up, turned upside down, and 
[came] back down. 
  
His idea is that tradition has changed repeatedly as people adapted to new circumstances. 
This was particularly true for Samoans responding to the missionaries and colonization. 
In order to apprise people of the fluid nature of tradition, he often uses the traditional 
method of people thanking performers by stuffing money into a bottle on stage during a 
performance as an example:  
I tell my people, ?There?s a traditional method of thanking people ? a Coke bottle ? 
and money goes in the Coke bottle. Money does not come from Samoa and you know 
where Coke came from.? ?You have no argument, no justification [to say] that ?It?s in 
that time ? that?s it.? If you could take a Coke bottle [then], I [can] take a Pepsi bottle 
[now]! 
 
Muaiava makes a distinction between three dances that he considers to be the core of 
Samoan dance tradition and some other, more contemporary dances. He also talks about 
?traditional dances? that were discarded as the result of missionary influence: 
[There are] three main dances in Samoa, the sa sa, the ma?ulu?ulu, and the taualuga. The 
sa sa is body percussion, movement, beat. It?s seated ? a rhythmic dance. The 
ma?ulu?ulu is an action dance with melody; it contrasts to the sa sa. The sa sa is very 
rigorous, but also powerful and very, very in your face. The ma?ulu?ulu is, too, but in a 
way that is very beautiful ? it?s graceful. The taualuga means the end, that?s the finale. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 267 
 
It?s where everyone?s seated and the guy is standing up and you do a final dance. Those 
dances evolved from whatever. However, there are traditional dances we don?t do any-
more?. These dances aren?t performed anymore because they?re very explicit ? that 
doesn?t fit into Samoan society, especially [after] the missionaries arrived and there were 
certain things you were no longer able to do. There are also new forms of dance, the slap 
dance, the ulu fale, the entrance; these are all contemporary dances that I need to 
research. They?ve come about in the 70s and 80s but I need people to understand they 
didn?t come from 100 years ago. The sa sa did, the ma?ulu?ulu did, and the taualuga. 
 
The fact that recently composed dances may become ?traditional? opens a creative win-
dow for Muaiava and he sees Samoan performance as a medium for helping Samoan 
people, especially the older generation, to reconceptualize and adapt their practices to be 
more appropriate in the new place. Muaiava expresses these sentiments in Samoan 
language and in traditional fora where such criticism is appropriate and therefore 
accepted. For instance, he has composed songs that discourage the use of corporal 
punishment (?getting smacked?) ? a traditional method of disciplining children in 
Samoa but one that is not appropriate in New Zealand: 
Something people respect about me is that I wrote songs ? you get a New Zealand-born 
Samoan to write songs ? in Samoan. I had a gift for it: ?Discipline with your mind ? 
don?t discipline with your hand.? People cried. If anybody has a right to talk about 
Samoan issues, it?s me. The taualuga is where you do it. You don?t go in a suit to a social 
worker environment and go, ?OK, you should change your way, people.? You don?t ? 
you do it the right way. You come from a traditional background and the arena is the 
taualuga ? ?What are we going to listen to today, what [are] today issues?? Samoans 
listen [and] taualuga is where they sit down. It?s a long song, but you sing about what?s 
happening today.? I?m going to sing about the problems, the good, the bad ? the first 
Samoan All Black captain [sings]. This is what I?m going to write about. Unfortunately, 
before I came along we still sang about the old things; go to church, pray, go to church, 
pray, listen to mum and dad. Even though our kids were getting beat, even though our 
kids were on the street?. It?s not a job for Black Grace and the contemporary envi-
ronment with Europeans, because that?s when Samoans go, ?I?m not going to listen to 
shit.? When you?ve got someone who came about it the right way ? Samoan dance is 
where you talk about it ? the people take it in the right way, because it?s in their 
language and it?s written in their way. 
 
Samoan language and traditional settings are more important for the older generations. 
Speaking to a younger generation of New Zealand-born Samoans and bridging the gap 
between them and their parents is more problematic: 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 268 
 
I?m actually thinking about doing a taualuga that?s half Samoan and half English. Now 
people of dad?s [age] are really worried about that. My dad would say it?s bad enough our 
kids can?t speak Samoan. I thought, ?Dad you have to understand that I need to 
communicate.? 
 
The kind of intergenerational communication that Muaiava talks about is a manifestation 
of an ongoing transformational process that has been necessitated by the transplantation 
of Samoan people and culture to New Zealand. Changing circumstances and adaptation 
to new situations is causing Samoans in New Zealand to change their priorities as they 
rethink, revalue, and reconstruct elements of cultural identity and performance.  
His father has come to understand Muaiava?s ?need to communicate? and supports his 
efforts: ?[My father] says, ?Son, you?re bringing English into this domain?.?? His 
father?s changing attitudes also reflect changes in the viewpoint of the at-large New 
Zealand Samoan community toward dance as a ?respectable? occupation and their 
investment in Samoan dance as a vehicle for preserving and extending Samoan culture. 
Muaiava says of his father: 
[He] tells people, ?My son teaches Samoan dance for a living.? He says he?s so proud. He 
remembers that the biggest critics were Samoan people [who?d say], ?That?s not a real 
job ? go get a real job. Go put on a pair of overalls.? I told him my real job is to take this 
art form and hand it down to whomever. If I don?t, the link will be broken. 
 
A major shift for Samoans migrants in New Zealand is to a ?mixed? ethnic environment 
where Samoans are a minority culture.
11
 A question for New Zealand Samoans is how do 
they integrate (or not) with other cultural groups? 
Muaiava is conscious that he is a member of a ?multi-cultural society? and he uses 
Samoan dance as a way to fit into that society ? to interact with it and to establish his 
                                                
11
 See So?o 2005: 336. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 269 
 
credentials in a larger domain than just the Samoan community. I witnessed one of 
Muaiava?s dance classes where he taught a multi-hued group of international and New 
Zealand students from as far away as Australia, the Philippines, and Bulgaria ? but none 
were Samoan. Muaiava explains how these international students wound up at the 
University of Auckland: 
[It?s] because of the multi-cultural society we have. Many come because they think 
Auckland is the Polynesian capital city of the world. They think if you?re going to learn 
Pacific dance, Auckland is the place to go. Pacific dance is very attractive just like 
Cuban, Latin dance?. 
 
By sharing Samoan dance with the outside world, Muaiva is acting as conduit between 
the Samoan and the larger community. In the process he has softened the boundaries 
between cultures. Muaiava says the Samoan community has slowly accepted non-Samo-
an participation in traditional performance: 
There?s this whole thing with my community, they were like, ?What are you doing now 
Keneti? You?re teaching Samoan dance at the university, now you have non-Samoans 
taking these dances.? A few people [are still resistant, but] not many. Ten years ago 90% 
would have been offended.  
 
Muaiava?s ability to act in (and upon) two worlds to essentially bring them closer derives 
from his exposure to (and situatedness in) both Samoan traditions and New Zealand 
institutions. Speaking of his ability to take Samoan dance into the university, Muaiava 
says: 
If anyone is going to introduce Samoan contemporary or traditional, it?s me. I?m very 
lucky to be educated; I?m lucky to be from this European system of schooling. I have the 
right skills to take it into the university. 
 
Muaiava?s sense of cultural confidence and ?ownership? of the Samoan tradition enables 
him to posit New Zealand as a home of Samoan dance ? a place where growth of the 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 270 
 
dance (and hence the culture) is viable. He asserts that contemporarily Samoan dance has 
changed and developed more in New Zealand than Samoa, and that those changes are 
having a reflexive effect in the home country: 
Samoan dance went to another level in New Zealand. In Samoa, it?s starting to change 
now ? that?s because they?re starting to see what we do here?. I feel that New Zealand 
has that right.? If I grew up in Samoa, I wouldn?t have created how I created here?. 
This environment gave me something different. To say this is dance that changed in 
Samoa is a lie ? it changed here. There are Samoans in USA, Australia, and wherever, 
but Samoans in New Zealand changed Samoan dance. The sa sa started to change, the ma 
ulu?ulu?. 
 
The changes to which Muaiava refers are in a sense ?updates? that allow the dancers to 
acknowledge and celebrate their contemporary situations. And the process of updating is 
an extension of traditional practice ? ?traditional? dances typically take everyday life as 
their subject matter, and Muaiava has updated the Samoan repertoire to reflect modern 
life and the quotidian experiences of New Zealand Samoans: 
There are sa sa that talk about fishing, pulling the rope, every day life?. I did one with 
spraying deodorant and really pissed my dad off, but I knew what I was doing. 
  
Indeed, Muaiava?s ultimate concern is with Samoan dance as a contemporary expressive 
form: 
I?m taking Samoan dance to another level and not necessarily calling it traditional ? I 
call it contemporary Samoan dance. I feel that I have a very strong philosophical base. 
It?s been changing here for 50 years ? that?s a long enough time to know what you?re 
doing ? where you?ve come from and where you want to take it. 
 
This process of growth of Samoan (and Pacific) dance as a genre has both outward and 
inward dimensions and Muaiava is concerned about potential negative impacts of institu-
tionalization. Muaiava talked about participation of non-Samoans in Samoan dance and 
the possibility of them passing on Samoan tradition:  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 271 
 
I think it is?possible for a palagi in New Zealand to pass it on. You?ve got palagi kids 
that dance at the Polynesian Festival. New Zealand is a big enough environment for 
Samoans ? it?s another Apia, another Samoa.? If they?re all congregated in one area, 
[it?s] possible technically and if this palagi does his homework. These palagi need to 
understand ? where did [the dances] come from? They can, but it?s unlikely. 
 
Muaiava feels that maintenance of connections between tradition, lineage, and function-
ality is the proper approach to the institutionalization of Pacific dance in general:  
My problem is where you teach Pacific dance ? every institution has to understand this 
? you have to come from tradition. You?ve got to have somebody teaching Cook Island 
dance that?s had that link [and] this person has to prove it.? Whitireia
12
 could have a 
huge future if they get the right people?people that maintain the links. 
 
Muaiava?s construction of ?tradition? is based on functionality. His emphasis is on main-
taining tradition as a self-conscious continuum that is cognizant of and acknowledges 
histories and lineages as well as contemporary circumstances and looks to establish ? by 
both analysis and construction ? a consistent relationship between them.  
As a process taking place within Samoan communities (both in New Zealand and 
Samoa), Muaiava?s kind of innovation ? performances that take place in traditional fora, 
using traditional methods, and cast in terms of a deep understanding of their function ? 
affirms the identity of New Zealand Samoans vis ? vis Samoa as homeland. Such perfor-
mances have the reflexive impact of making life as it is lived in New Zealand normative 
by inserting it into traditional performative discourse ? it restates and reshapes tradi-
tional identity. In essence, it remakes fa?a Samoa in a form that is more relevant to 
                                                
12
 Whitireia Community Polytechnic is a tertiary, degree-granting institution in Porirua, a town north of 
Wellington that is home to a large population of urban Pacific Island and M ori peoples. Whitireia offers a 
range of qualifications, including a ?Performing Arts Major of the Bachelor of Applied Arts? that features 
M ori, Samoan, Cook Island, and contemporary dance. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 272 
 
people?s lived experience, and hence more viable and able to grow and expand in 
diaspora. 
In terms of outward orientation, Muaiava?s intent is to maintain Samoan dance as a 
cultural performance with links to its origins, including tradition and lineage. At the same 
time, he promotes an inclusive and expansive notion of cultural performance that enables 
it to grow both inside and outside of the originating culture. This expansiveness extends 
the range of appropriate venues for teaching and learning the tradition to include indivi-
duals and institutions that are outside of the Samoan community and is potentially prob-
lematic because it may result in mis- or even ex-appropriation of the cultural object.  
At the annual ASB Bank Polyfest Secondary School Competition, non-Pakeha cultural 
traditions are represented and featured in association with New Zealand educational 
institutions. The relative presences of various groups at this venue, and the affective 
engagement of diverse audiences, is indicative of the current institutional status of their 
traditions in New Zealand. Potentially, it is also a harbinger of future engagement. 
ASB Polyfest Secondary School Competition 
The annual Secondary School Competition, sponsored by ASB (Auckland Savings Bank) 
Bank, is known variously as the ASB Bank Cultural Festival, the ASB Secondary School 
Competition, and ASB Polyfest. On the Manukau City website, the festival is touted as 
?the world?s largest M ori and Pacific Island Secondary Schools cultural festival.?
13
 The 
event is a site of close interaction between ethnic communities and public institutions, 
particularly the education sector. 
                                                
13
 http://www.manukau.govt.nz/, 5/4/2008. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 273 
 
The festival has evolved in collaboration between students, staff, and parents of the 
participating schools, and is an opportunity for families and local ethnic communities to 
actively participate with teachers and students in construction and performance of ethnic 
identity. The event began in 1976 at Hillary College, a secondary school in Otara in 
South Auckland. The size and scope of participation in the festival grew from just four 
schools in 1976 to 38 in 1991. The festival was shifted to the Manukau City Sportsbowl 
in 1995, when the event was deemed to large to be hosted on the grounds of any single 
school. 
Commentary 
After some reflection, I compiled the following commentary from a combination of field 
notes and audio visual materials I recorded at the event.  
I attended the ASB Polyfest Secondary School festival in 2005 and 2006. In 2005, I was 
also able to observe students and their mentors preparing for the competition in advance 
of the festival. The format for the festival remained stable in the years I attended, and my 
observations were consistent over both years. 
During the run-up to the festival, ethnic groups at each of the competing high schools 
rehearse programs as an extra-curricular activity. The rehearsals usually take place on 
school grounds after school and on weekends. Each group will have a faculty advisor 
who may or may not share ethnicity with the group. Usually the program leaders ? who 
are responsible for developing programs, and teaching and rehearsing routines ? will be 
drawn from the local ethnic community. Leaders are generally recruited by the students, 
their parents, and communities. The longevity of the festival and its prominence means 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 274 
 
that potential leaders tend to be well known, and the same leaders may be recruited from 
year to year. Communities and families are also involved in activities like making 
costumes and preparing food. 
Local communities also coordinate to provide infrastructure ? including canvassing for 
sponsors and fundraising ? for the festival itself, and every year one school will take 
primary responsibility for ?hosting? the festival. 
The Site 
The Manukau Sportsbowl has been the site of the festival since 1995. The site covers 
several acres of rolling grassland. During the festival the entire area swarms with people 
? traffic is backed up for access to the site and clusters of teenagers sporting school 
colors and logos are everywhere. Stages are set up in every nook and cranny. Most of the 
activity centers on the various competitions, but there is also a fair bit of commercial 
activity ? radio stations and promotions, cell phone, and food vendors ? distributed 
throughout the grounds. 
The festival features dedicated stages for M ori, Samoan, Tongan, Cook Islands, and 
Niuean participants, and a separate ?Diversity Stage? for everyone else. On the dedicated 
stages, the competitions take place among teams comprised of a single ethnic group but 
from different high schools. On the Diversity Stage, several different ethnic groups 
compete against one another. The groups I witnessed competing on the Diversity Stage 
included Indian, Sri Lankan, Chinese, and Malaysian groups from a variety of high 
schools. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 275 
 
The stages are set up with an elevated reviewing stand behind the audience area, where 
the judges sit. The judges are generally established community people who might be 
deemed guardians of tradition, and each stage has its own set of rules that are stipulated 
before the competition. For the dedicated stages this generally means a set of compulsory 
genres or types of routines that each group is expected to execute. Criteria for judging are 
not published and tend to be idiosyncratic to the individual judges. Time limits are also 
set in order to accommodate the large number of competing groups.  
The essence of most of the performances is movement and choral singing. In addition to 
dance and music performances, speech contests are also conducted. Musical accompani-
ment on the dedicated stages was usually live and provided by older musicians, usually 
on guitars and percussion, but sometimes including other instruments like banjo. On the 
Diversity Stage, most groups were accompanied by prerecorded music. However, there 
were some examples of exotic instruments, including cymbals and drums played by 
students for a Chinese dragon dance. 
The festival has the feeling of a huge picnic and parade rolled into one. The crowds ? 
comprised mostly of students ? were very enthusiastic on all of the stages that I 
observed over two years.  
Diversity Stage 
When I attended the festival in 2005 and 2006, audiences at the Diversity Stage were 
predictably diverse. The audiences at the Diversity Stage seemed to trend younger than 
the single-ethnic stages ? there were families present, but there seemed to be fewer 
adults. Diversity Stage audiences also included a substantial number of Pacific Island 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 276 
 
teenagers and who appeared very engaged and enthusiastic (see Figure 2). Cross-cultural 
engagement was particularly noticeable during Bollywood-inspired performances (there 
were several) that also included hip-hop-like dance moves, or other affectations of 
coolness, being ?hip? or other expressions (or shared fantasies) of sophistication or 
current fashions. Performances that were specialized or had a more classical tinge ? 
Chinese dragon dancing and Sri Lankan dancing ? drew applause, but audiences seemed 
less engaged than for performances that obviously referenced current or popular culture. 
It seems clear that the most popular performances were ones in which the teenage 
audience recognized some shared reference.  
 
Figure 2. The crowd at the 2006 Diversity Stage was large, enthusiastic and decidedly multi-
cultural. Note the similarity of hairstyles between students of different ethnicities. 
 
Other Stages 
During the 2006 festival, I spent considerable time at the Samoan Stage (see Figure 3). 
For this and the other dedicated stages, the audiences generally tended to be more 
ethnically homogenous, but still massively enthusiastic. There also seemed to be a greater 
proportion of adults and discernible family groups in the audience. I found this also to be 
the case on Tongan Stage (see Figure 4), where I spent a large proportion of my time in 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 277 
 
2005. On both of these stages, set repertoires of dances were the rule, and subsequent 
groups on each stage performed a set of ?compulsory? performances as part of the 
competition. 
 
Figure 3. Marist College girls competing on the 2006 Samoan Stage. 
 
 
Figure 4. On the Tongan Stage in 2005, older musicians, judges, and dance leaders with 
students during the competition reflect the high level of community involvement and sanction 
for the events. 
 
I noticed some cultural ?crossover? where, in particular, I saw Pakeha/Palagi (designa-
tions for European descended ethnicities) performing with Samoan and Niuean groups.  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 278 
 
The level of rigor or seriousness of the competition vis ? vis ?strictness? varied. On the 
Niuean and Cook Island Stage, there seemed to be a greater range of performances ?for 
fun.? For example, on the Cook Island Stage in 2005, I saw a dance where young men 
with bare chests and short pants wore European neckties as they danced in traditional 
style (see Figure 5). I was told by a spectator at the stage that this performance was not 
actually a part of the formal competition, but rather ?just a way for the students to have 
fun.? Peformances on the Samoan, Tongan, and M ori stages seemed more prescriptive 
and the types of performances seemed more strictly regulated. 
 
 
Figure 5. On the Cook Island Stage in 2005, one group of boys added European neckties to 
their costumes as a comment on their situated New Zealand identities. 
 
The ASB Polyfest is an example of how diverse identities are emerging and mixing on 
the edges of New Zealand secondary schools. The festival, in the course of over 30 years 
of annual recurrences, has become an institution that features a high level of engagement 
by communities, students, parents, and teachers. The competition validates individual 
cultures and brings them together at the same time. It also provides a venue for students 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 279 
 
to ?cross over? and participate in exogenous cultural activities. It also provides students 
opportunities to participate as audiences and to lend support to their friends and class-
mates from different ethnic backgrounds. Identifications with schoolmates seemed at 
least as important as ethnic identifications in terms of audiences? affective engagement 
and responses to various performances. 
This section has dealt with abutting cultural performances, held together in proximity at a 
single venue and in conjunction with secondary education, the end of the ?compulsory? 
period of formal education in New Zealand. In the next section, I will examine inter-
cultural performance in the tertiary, non-compulsory sector as it manifests in the Per-
forming Arts Program at Whitireia Community Polytechnic in Porirua, New Zealand.  
Whitireia Performing Arts: Mana Pasifika 
The Whitireia Performing Arts program is a part of the Whitireia Community Polytechnic 
in Porirua, which lies about 20 miles north of Wellington on New Zealand?s North Island. 
Porirua is a mixed community that, along with the South Auckland area, has one of the 
largest populations of Pacific Island people in New Zealand. Whitireia Performing Arts, a 
program that combines Cook Island, Samoan, and M ori performing arts with modern 
dance instruction (see Figure 6), was initiated in 1990 as the result of an approach by 
Gaylene Sciascia to the Whitireia Community Polytechnic. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 280 
 
 
Figure 6. Whitireia Performing Arts professional company appearing at the 2005 Porirua 
Festival of the Elements Waitangi Day celebration. 
 
Whitireia ?Programme Leaders? 
Gaylene Sciascia and Tuaine Robati are the co-leaders of the Whitireia Performing Arts 
program, a tertiary dance course at Whitireia Community. I interviewed them at the 
offices of Whitireia Performing Arts, which is located about a quarter mile from the main 
Polytechnic campus and is housed in the same facility as a caf? that serves breakfast and 
lunch, the Porirua Public Library, and Pataka Art Museum, that specializes in M ori and 
Pacific visual arts (see Figure 7). These facilities are accessible off a central corridor that 
bustles with library patrons, students, and people availing themselves of a range of 
centrally located arts and recreational activities.  
 
Figure 7. A complex houses the Porirua Library, Whitireia Performing Arts, Pataka Museum, 
and a caf?. Directly adjacent there is a sports/recreation complex and a public park. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 281 
 
Gaylene Sciascia 
Gaylene Sciascia
14
 was born in Auckland in 1948. The Whitireia Performing Arts 
program is largely the result of her vision. Her interest in modern dance dates to the late 
1960s, a time when modern dance ?wasn?t really happening in New Zealand.? After 
completing an undergraduate degree in the physical education school of the University of 
Otago (a very prestigious program), she did an Master of Fine Arts degree at the 
University of Utah. 
After completing her MFA, Sciascia returned to New Zealand with a keen desire to foster 
a culturally relevant modern dance movement. She and her husband, Piri Sciascia (who is 
currently Te Toiahurei M ori Pro Vice-Chancellor at Victoria University in Wellington), 
settled in Porirua and began to build on their mutual interests in education, culture, and 
performing arts. 
Sciascia is antipathetic toward tokenism, and her reaction against the use of M ori names 
in titles of dance pieces that lack appropriate cultural content was an impetus to develop a 
more culturally relevant performing arts program:  
You can?t plaster it on like ?Pania on the Reef,? ? contemporary dance, but just give it a 
M ori name. It made me sick. So we developed some things. ?Wa Ngaiterangi? was a 
contemporary dance work that I did for Impulse Dance Theatre. It was the journey of 
Tane going to the heavens and bringing back the baskets of knowledge. At the time I only 
had Pakeha dancers, except for one. So the way I dealt with it, I used masks. I went to the 
old people before we put it on (to get approval), they all gasped when the masks came off 
because they thought they were M ori dancers. At that time we didn?t have the number of 
M ori dancers ? now we do. 
 
In the process of developing a ?dance theatre? paper at a local high school, Sciascia came 
to believe see Porirua was a fertile ground for developing not only M ori, but Pacific 
                                                
14
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Gaylene Sciascia interviewed by H. Anderson, 
3/2/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 282 
 
performers and themes. This notion led her in 1990 to submit a proposal for a performing 
arts course to Turoa Royal, who was the tumuaki (?principal?) of the Whitireia Commu-
nity Polytechnic. Francesca Horsley in the DANZ (Dance Aotearoa New Zealand) 
Quarterly quotes Sciascia saying:  
Porirua is a like a microcosm of the Pacific, with a really strong M ori and Pacific 
population. There are so many young people with talents and skills and at the time many 
parents wanted them to get real jobs and didn?t see a possibility of employment in the 
arts. They took them for granted ? ?of course they can sing and of course they can 
dance.?
15
  
 
Sciascia draws a distinction between ?cultural? and ?pure? arts. She wants to cultivate 
opportunities for young people to embrace and develop who they are in the arts and to 
give them the skills they need to succeed:  
It?s about tu tangata [?people standing up?]. It?s about standing up ? our young people 
? tall, with having successful experience within cultural arts. It?s really about empower-
ing our younger people to be able to stand in the footprints of their ancestors and [in] that 
knowledge. I guess I?m more of an educator than an artist, because you use the arts as a 
vehicle for empowering young people, where some people are the ?pure artist,? the ?pure 
art form? and whatever. But really I?m all about young people growing. 
 
International touring is an important aspect of the Whitireia Performing Arts program and 
Sciascia sees arts as a way to communicate across cultures:  
?The other thing was about building cultural bridges, I took that to dancing across 
cultures so that we?ve taken it to the world to hear who we are. When we do that our 
young people come back with a sense of who they are, where they?re from. In New 
Zealand culture, and M ori and even Pacific culture, we tend to put down our own, we 
tend to be our own worst critics, so if you?re getting too good I better cut your legs from 
under you, which is really sad, rather than celebrate and uplift. We?ve often talked about 
how our political leaders should start dancing and having successful experience in the 
arts; we might have a better world because they?ll dance together while the others kill 
each other. We?ve been to North Korea, danced with the Vietnamese, with everybody 
across the world, even when you can?t understand a thing, you can share and grow 
together. 
 
                                                
15
 Gaylene Sciascia quoted in Horsley 2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 283 
 
Expanding the Program 
Sciascia says the expansion of the Performing Arts program from a one-year course to a 
three-year degree was driven largely by student demand:  
In 1991 we had a one-year course and after that most of the students came back and 
enrolled in the same course the next year ? they didn?t want to leave. Now they 
wouldn?t be allowed to do it, but back then we allowed it. So we had to develop a 
separate second year course. But then, I thought, if I?m taking fees for two years, it 
actually has to be able to move somewhere and we need to develop a third year course, 
because [the students] don?t really have the skills to work professionally in the industry. 
So over the years we got the certificate, a diploma and an advanced diploma. Then I was 
able to upgrade to what we call a level 7 or group 3 qualification, which means our 
advanced diploma students were then able to apply for a one year [Teaching Diploma] in 
order to get into a teaching area. 
 
Empowering Students  
Sciascia sees the Performing Arts program as providing a ?staircase? for an economically 
disadvantaged and educationally disenfranchised student population to succeed person-
ally and professionally:  
I was really trying to open staircasing and also staying ahead and finding that point of 
difference ? there are a lot of artists that are great artists and they perform and create, 
but unless you can manage yourself and have a sense of performing arts management ? 
of entrepreneurship?so we started to develop the management side of the arts as well as 
the teaching. We were multi-skilling, giving opportunities to experience those areas. 
Then probably a year or so ago, there was a real pressure from the government about 
degrees ? it?s bit scary because your entry qualification would normally exclude a lot of 
the people [who] are our most successful. So we?ve had to find sneaky ways to deal with 
that. 
 
The degree program is interdisciplinary and has been tailored to accommodate a holistic, 
Pacific view of the arts:  
We?ve looked at the degree and we?ve tried to get a composite degree of Bachelor of 
Applied Arts. The four major areas are creative writing, visual arts, music, and 
dance/performing arts. ?But there are two generic papers in the first two years: one [is] 
?creative enterprise? ? learning about business plans or applications or budgeting. The 
other is ?contextual studies,? which looks at art in relation to culture and place within 
Aotearoa and the Pacific. There is one other 20-credit area that we are calling an option. 
We?re developing that for collaborative and interdisciplinary studies. ?That?s basically 
because so much of the arts in the Pacific are holistic ? you don?t have your music as 
separate from your dance. ?The theatre, the drama, the dance, the song ? it?s all one, so 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 284 
 
[the ability] to work collaboratively across cultures comes naturally for a lot of our 
students. 
 
Repertoire and Equity 
In the third year of the program, in addition to continuing creative enterprise classes, 
students create a body of work. Sciascia says that themes and repertoires for the students? 
outputs are individual and specific to them and drawn from the diverse materials they 
have at hand. Asked about the influence of standard repertoires, Sciascia comments that, 
while members of their learning community draw on traditional materials, the program 
aims to expand the scope and ambit of their combined artistic enterprise ? for tutors and 
students alike. The exigencies of bringing together diverse sources into a unified whole 
means they must embrace a notion of cultural equity as a matter of sheer pragmatism:  
We?ve been trying to say [that] in order to be treated the same, you have to be treated 
differently sometimes. ?We don?t want to teach the same repertoire?part of the process 
is working alongside the students, composing, choreographing. I guess we?re always 
trying to move the boundaries and to explore new ways but also going back to look at the 
traditional classics. Within our body of work, we work in four cultural areas. Instead of 
having our M ori, Samoan, Cook Island, and New Zealand contemporary dance?I 
wanted my staff [from different cultural origins] to work and be a lot more aware of each 
other ? to support [one another], to work creatively together. 
 
Indeed, a lot of the accommodations that have been made at Whitireia are pragmatic and 
the nature of the Whitireia dance troupe ? particularly as a professional troupe ? means 
that inter-cultural cooperation is essential. An important aspect of the Whitireia program 
is that it functions as an apprentice company that specializes in combining and show-
casing M ori, Samoan, and Cook Island cultural performances:  
?Professional Studies? ? that?s the repertoire, that?s the outside performing. Because we 
operate our course like an apprentice company and because our students work best by 
doing. So we work closely with the industry ? at Te Papa, on big events, on ?corpor-
ates,? whatever. Also within cultural tourism ? they learn to be cultural ambassadors 
because we travel each year to international festivals. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 285 
 
A Cultural Foundation 
Sciascia stresses cultural studies as a foundation for performing arts:  
?Cultural Studies? puts language and culture as a foundation stone from which we can 
appreciate, grow, and develop and be innovative within the arts. ?Until we have a real 
understanding, appreciation, and awareness of that cultural base, I don?t think we can do 
the [performing] with integrity?. 
 
As a part of establishing a cultural foundation for the performances, Sciascia?s program 
provides a remedial cultural education for urbanized and culturally alienated youth:  
When I started the course 16 years ago I made the false assumption that my Samoan 
students had Samoan language and knew about Samoan culture. Whereas most of them 
were born in New Zealand, they could understand Samoan but 90% couldn?t speak 
Samoan. Because that was what they had had to do in order to get on, [and] which is 
where M ori were 40 years ago. And some M ori had never actually been on a marae 
before, and so that was the first [thing]?it?s building that face, and it?s alongside 
touching on their own cultural base?especially in performance, to be able to acknowl-
edge and respect and distinguish the different essence of each of those cultures. One of 
the things that comes from our performing, when all of our students perform Samoan, a 
Samoan audience sees and hears and feels a Samoan presence. And when we do M ori, 
the M ori audience.? It?s being true to the essence and spirit of each of those cultures. 
 
Sciascia feels that, in order for them to rise to embody a range of cultures and perform 
them convincingly, the students have to come to grips with themselves. She talked about 
ministering to the students to help them cope with wounds accumulated in rough, cultur-
ally denatured urban environments:  
We?ve found that a number of students here have been through a number of brandishing 
experiences in their lives and come through. And so alongside [academic studies and 
training] we put the support of personal management ? what we used to call ?personal 
me? but now it comes into ?Professional Studies and Self-management? ? where we 
look at who we are. Because so many of our students are active ?out there,? I have to also 
try and pause a little bit and get them to go inward. Which for some of them is pretty 
scary and they don?t want to go there. And it?s safer if they?re right out there ? 
?anything outside of me.? But if we can start to do that, they should go out even better. 
We?re sort of looking back in order to go forward. We also have to look at how to help 
them resolve their past so it doesn?t control them. So they can free themselves of stuff 
and it?s about empowering them so that they can take some control of their lives. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 286 
 
Sciascia feels the importance of taking time to deal with students on a personal level is in 
tension with an institutional predilection for the impersonal:  
It?s having to care for and nurture the personal side of the person.? It?s not in our degree 
outline but it?s the pastoral care elements, and the only thing that?s happening in a terrible 
way in our schools in New Zealand. And it?s starting to happen in tertiary ? the paper 
pushing, assessment-driven stuff is taking so much time, [that] you?re not [able to be] 
there for your students. In our schools, that?s what?s missing. I want quality not quantity, 
I want a small group of people who will make an artistic and cultural life of our 
community in our country and internationally. If I try to spread it too thin, it becomes 
mediocre and has no depth. 
 
The Shadow of Biculturalism 
Sciascia believes that the term ?bi-culturalism? doesn?t adequately express the real situa-
tion for people in New Zealand: ?Bi-culturalism to a lot of people means New Zealanders 
and M ori, but it?s actually English and everybody else and M ori.? And she sees 
institutional evidence of the limitations of such binary understanding of biculturalism 
when in they way arts projects are funded:  
The interesting thing is for [Whitireia Performing Arts], when working within M ori and 
Pacific like we do here, whenever you apply for funding, you have to be M ori for M ori 
or it?s Pacific by Pacific for Pacific.  
 
Sciascia thinks that she and the Whitireia performing arts community may be ahead of 
the rest of New Zealand on the construction of a notion of ?us?:  
There?s no notion of ?us? all working together in the Pacific. I think probably you have to 
establish your own thing strongly first, then you can move across without any threat. 
Maybe we?ve moved more quickly across to that than the rest of New Zealand. I mean 
M ori is within the Pacific; we are all Pacific Islanders in that way. But if you talk to 
New Zealanders about Pacific Islanders, that means ?those people from the other islands 
? the small islands.? The whole bi-culturalism thing ? a lot of New Zealanders see it as 
a huge circle and M ori is a little circle within it. But that?s more like an ?integrated? 
whole ? ?they?re within this.? Whereas I like to see it as two circles that meet and 
overlap a little bit. But there is this very special bit ? the ?unique? ? which allows [the 
groups] to be different, without threat. And I think if we do all those three, then the 
innovation, the growth is multiplied. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 287 
 
Tuaine Robati 
Tuaine Robati
16
 was born in Rarotonga in 1953. His family sent him to New Zealand to 
attend secondary school. While at school, he lived with his elder sister and her family. 
After high school, he went on to University and to Teachers College. When I asked about 
his background in teaching dance, he said:  
I?m not a dancer, I don?t have a formal background in dance. I?ve taught primary, and 
M ori and English at high school, I?ve taught at Victoria [University in Wellington] 
tutorials and I?ve been [at Whitireia] for 10 years. This is a hobby; my job at the moment 
is my hobby. 
 
I observed Robati teaching Cook Island language, history, dance, and singing to students 
over the course of several days on two trips to Whitireia in 2006 (see Figure 8). He is 
very demanding of his students and his classes are highly regimented. At times he seems 
like a drill sergeant, chiding and even deriding them if he feels they are not on track to 
meeting a professional standard.  
 
Figure 8. Tuaine Robati teaches a class in Cook Island dance. 
                                                
16
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Tuaine Robati interviewed by H. Anderson, 
3/4/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 288 
 
Robati says that in the Cook Islands when he was growing up, people learned to dance by 
doing and by osmosis: ?You grow up with the rhythm, it?s part and parcel [of life].? He 
has adapted his teaching skills to the task of teaching performing arts. He makes a 
distinction between how people learn in a community setting and in an educational 
institution like Whitireia. Speaking of his teaching style, he said: 
I think that?s me, that?s my teaching background: I?m a strict teacher. I believe in sys-
tems?these systems I developed myself just from observing the more formal dance 
classes like the contemporary dance. I don?t think any other Cook Islands tutor teaches 
the way I do?it has to be of a standard ? quality. 
 
While Robati distinguishes between how performance may be taught in community 
versus academic settings, his basic approach is idiographic. He described a process of 
mining his personal experience of Cook Island performance and then translating that 
experience for use at Whitireia:  
In communities, it?s let?s learn this piece and get on with it ? for me it?s personal inward 
research. What is Cook Islands technique? It?s based on my own experience. ?We were 
never taught ? you?re dancing every day. It?s just part of the lifestyle: school shows, 
parent days, classes learn items?it?s around you. You just pick it up. You grew into that 
? call it condition?. Then there?s church, singing, and the culture; there?s dancing 
involved, there?s gospel day and festivals. 
 
Tradition 
Robati considers ?tradition? to be a problematic concept:  
For me ?tradition? is an awkward word because what is tradition? Is tradition for the 
Cooks pre-missionary? ?What?s traditional in my view is chanting, church singing, and 
probably the classics ? pieces that have become classics ? drum dances that everyone 
knows in the Cooks. Or types of drumming ? different sounds from different regions, 
that I can identify just by the sound. 
 
Indeed, Robati includes the period of European contact in his selection and construction 
of a ?traditional? repertoire. He is also conscious that Cook Islanders from different 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 289 
 
generations and with different situations have a different orientation to the history of the 
dance:  
When I?m teaching dance history, it?s different for people living in the Cook Islands as 
opposed to those living here. And again there?s a third Cook Islander that?s born and bred 
here?. There are different levels of being Cook Island. 
 
For Robati, the range of possible Cook Island experiences and identities seems to form a 
hinge for the construction of authentic identities in performance. When he teaches Cook 
Island dance to students with diverse backgrounds, he expects them to become Cook 
Islanders: 
At the end of the day I?m saying to them, ?When you are doing a performance I do not 
want to see a European, a M ori, or a Samoan in a Cook Island costume, I want to see a 
team of 20 Cook Island dancers.? There?s a whole understanding of the culture they have 
to bring inside out: ?When I look into your eyes I see a Cook Islander.? 
 
His teaching technique includes immersing the students in a way of being so that they 
affectively embody the culture:  
Most of my classes would start with a hymn or a prayer because that?s the Cook Island 
way. I won?t say, ?This is how Cook Islanders do things.? I say, ?We are Cook Islanders 
and this is how we are going to operate.? 
 
Robati feels that this type of approach ? where students become cultural repositories ? 
is essential to the survival of cultural performance: 
I?m trying to get that message across to our other tutors; it?s not just a nice piece to teach, 
we need to develop our dance culture or else it dies. 
 
Narrative Dimensions of Performance 
Part of the translation process involves parsing cultural performance into discreet func-
tional units of technique. This is a fundamentally different from Robati?s childhood 
experience when he absorbed Cook Island performance as units of repertoire, with no 
emphasis on technique 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 290 
 
My childhood was so different to how Cook Island children grow up now; I?m talking 50 
years ago. We were always taught repertoire and not technique because of the assumption 
[that] you don?t need technique, you know how to dance. Everyone can dance. Repertoire 
is really what the teachers had in mind.  
 
But the narrative dimension of the performance must also be developed:  
For me dance is a reflection of what?s happening around you: an issue you want to make 
a point about, to teach people [so] hopefully people will go away and reflect ? ?Oh what 
are they trying to say?? Isn?t that what art is all about?  
 
Cook Island M ori in the Shadow 
Robati feels that Cook Island M ori are marginalized and alienated from their culture in 
New Zealand by being ?lumped in? with other Pacific Island groups:  
I?m having a debate with the Ministry of Education, I?m into the education of Cook 
Island youth and we?ve been missing the boat for 20 years because everything is about 
funding. I?m trying to tell them we are more like New Zealand M ori rather than other 
Pacific groups. We?re lumped in with another group [where] I believe we don?t belong. A 
lot of other people would disagree with me ? I?m saying we?re more M ori. At the end 
of the day I?m a M ori. It?s only when we come here ? because of the labelling thing ? 
I can?t call myself a M ori. If you live in the Cooks then you?re a M ori?. What?s been 
lost is the relationship between New Zealand M ori and Cook Island M ori, I feel. Why 
that?s been lost ? and I understand the history of New Zealand M ori ? is they?ve had 
to fight their own cause, so I felt we were pushed away as tauiwi with the other groups ? 
lumped in with all the other Pacific Island groups. Now, Cook Island children, when you 
say there?s a meeting for all PI?s [Pacific Islanders], they don?t go and they never will. 
That?s why I?m trying to tell all policy makers this; that?s why we?re missing out. 
 
Robati feels that the distinctions that policy makers are drawing are more political than 
cultural. Speaking about differences between M ori and other Pacific groups like Samo-
ans, Robati said: 
What I?m trying to say is the way we think ? the way our children think ? we are more  
M ori, than say Samoan in our thinking. We?re a lot more free thinkers; they?re very 
conservative, hierarchical. Hierarchy comes into play when it needs to be but in every 
day life we are all equal?. 
 
Four Alumni: Choreographing the Pacific 
While at Whitireia, I had the opportunity to attend dress rehearsals for a dance program 
titled ?Filling in the Spaces? that was to take place at the Pataka complex. The program 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 291 
 
included a set of pieces choreographed and by Whitireia alumni and performed by a 
group of dancers made up of current and former students. I was able to interview four of 
the choreographers. Two of the choreographers were male, two female. Two were of 
Samoan descent, one was M ori, and one was Pakeha. Most of my interviews (with the 
exception of Annabelle Reader) took place when, after observing Tupe Lualua and the 
women rehearse for a while, I joined the in-and-out traffic through a side exit from the 
dance studio out into a parking lot adjacent to the building. Several dancers were there ? 
smoking cigarettes, hanging out, laughing, and talking boisterously like kids on a play-
ground (see Figure 9). Three of the four choreographers were there, and this gave me an 
opportunity to interview them. I talked to them about their pieces and their experiences at 
Whitireia and activities since. 
 
Figure 9. Dancers occupied the central corridor of the Pataka complex during their rehearsal. 
 
I was particularly interested to understand how their studies in traditional Pacific and 
modern dance impacted their lives and shaped notions of who they are as artists and 
people (see Figure 10). The rehearsals took place in the late afternoon as most of the 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 292 
 
facilities in the Pataka complex, including the museum and cafe but with the exception of 
the library were closing. The performing arts school offices and rehearsal space are 
tucked away down a hallway off of a central corridor through the main complex. For this 
performance, the dancers commandeered portions of the public area in front of the 
building (on the street side), the central corridor, and an adjacent courtyard that abuts the 
caf?. I was particularly struck by how the dancers were able to fill the space ? they 
seemed to take possession and easily inhabit it as their ?home space.? 
 
Figure 10. Ioani Leota and Annabelle Reader on a break between rehearsing. 
 
Ioani Leota 
Ioani Leota
17
 is a Samoan male. He was born on the island of Upolu in 1979 and came to 
New Zealand when he was six or seven years old. The rehearsals of Leota?s work that I 
witnessed took place in two parts, with men working at first by themselves while the 
women were engaged elsewhere working on other parts of the program (see Figure 11). 
                                                
17
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Ioani Leota interviewed by H. Anderson, 
3/3/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 293 
 
 
Figure 11. Ioani Leota (seated next to the drummer) directs male dancers as they stalk across 
the courtyard during rehearsal. 
 
During the first part of the rehearsal, Leota oversaw a group of seven dancers and a 
drummer as they moved between a courtyard and the interior of the Pataka complex?s 
central corridor (see Figure 12). The drummer?s kit consisted of a kick drum, conga, 
Cook Island slit gongs, and a frame drum which he played with a combination of his 
hands, foot pedal, and sticks. The drumming consisted mostly of hard driving, highly 
metric beats in 4/4 12/8 or 6/8 signatures. 
Field Notes ? March 2, 2006 
The dancers move as a unit, in time with the drums, as if in pursuit ? they are 
reminiscent of a hunting or a war party, crouched low, moving to an almost martial 
tattoo. The dancers seem tied to the earth and most of the movement seems to take place 
on or near the ground or is somehow directed toward the earth. The movement vocabu-
lary draws on a combination of idioms including hip-hop, martial arts (capoeira), 
Samoan slap dancing and modern dance.  
The dancers are mostly brown and several also sport dreadlocks. One dancer?s skin is 
dyed black and he is wearing a loincloth. (Leota explained to me later that this was the 
costume that they would all wear for the actual performance.) 
 
The second part of the rehearsal began sometime later (after my interview with Leota) 
when the women became available. 
This part of the piece is focused on four women arranged in a semi-circle in the interior 
of the corridor with their backs to the courtyard. The actions of the men are directed 
toward the seated women who sit cross-legged and are rhythmically swaying gently back 
and forth, their hands gesticulating towards each other in motions reminiscent of M ori 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 294 
 
action songs or Samoan dances that mime messages. The dance is accompanied by quiet 
drumming and quasi-melodic chanting that form an undercurrent. The men frolic on the 
periphery [in a stylized fashion like Samoan taualuga, where the antics of the men on the 
periphery sometimes contrast to the solemnity, grace, and dignity of the performer at the 
center] as if to get the women?s attention. The men?s movements seem individually 
improvised (or ?freestyled? in Leota?s words) and there is a range of movement style on 
display, including some capoeira-like movement and movements that seem derived from 
Samoan taualuga, and also movements that might be associated with kapa haka.  
Eventually the mood changes, as four of the male dancers lie down on the wooden deck 
of the courtyard in rows and the remaining three take up standing positions behind the 
seated women in the attitude associated with haka and begin slowly moving their hands 
up and down and slap their thighs. They stop short of initiating a full-blown haka, but for 
a few moments, as Leota counts in Samoan, they clap hard and loud with some of the 
impact that is felt in haka. Then silence. And the piece dives into a unison trio of the men 
swinging and jumping in time to a steady, up tempo (approximately 120 beats/minute) 
count on a conga drum. Through this the women remain seated stationary. As the 
rhythmic section winds down after few seconds, the men resume a free-form ?harass-
ment? of the women, who remain still and are clearly ignoring them. Just as the women 
seem about to resume swaying, the drum is joined by a koauau, the rest of the male 
dancers revive. Shortly after, the women rise and back out onto the courtyard as a group. 
The respective groups of males and females perform unisonal movements that resemble 
phalanxes advancing and retreating in response to one another. The males and females 
remain separate tribes as they execute movements in turn. The women eventually move 
off and the men return to executing movements that more-or-less resemble random acts 
of violence amongst themselves. They then resume operating as a unit performing martial 
actions, thrusting with spears, and the like. The piece ends with the men retreating in a 
retrograde motion into the area of the courtyard where they began in the first rehearsal. 
They regroup there, with the women this time, and the whole group processes through the 
courtyard, into and down the corridor, and out. 
 
 
Figure 12. Ioani Leota rehearses male and female dancers together. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 295 
 
Ioani Leota Interview: Pasifika Style 
Leota is a bit shy and his English is fluent, but highly inflected in an urban Pasifika argot 
? an accent that many in New Zealand would hear as ?ghetto.? Leota?s pronunciation of 
?Pasifika? is striking ? he pronounces all of the syllables but he uses a hard ?k? and he 
swallows the ?i?s? as if ingesting them to be digested and metabolized later. He 
enunciates ownership and authority ? he says the word confidently and with ease as if to 
say that his is the ?correct? pronunciation. It is not English; it is a word of the Pacific. 
Speaking of his choreography and dancing, Leota says, ?It?s my own style really, I?m 
freestyling at the moment, it?s sort of Pasifika-contemporary dance ? mixing the new 
with the old.? Leota uses term ?freestyling,? usually associated with hip-hop, to describe 
what he does. But for him it is a generic term that is only loosely associated with hip-
hop?s putative African American origins. He uses the term to describe his process of 
discovery:  
I?m freestyling my own stuff, like moves, and your own body movement. I?m still finding 
body movement looking for new body movements?.  
 
When I suggest to him that the drumming style that he uses to accompany his choreogra-
phy resembles Cook Island drumming, he rejects the specific association, saying that it is 
?more Pasifika than anything.?  
Leota, a graduate, also has an ongoing association with Whitireia?s professional com-
pany. He makes himself available for events at the school because he sees a mutual 
benefit for himself:  
I did three years here [and then] joined the dance company?. Now I just come here, do 
work with them, helping them out. And [I] help myself out as well ? being a choreogra-
pher ? learning a lot of stuff. I?m still learning.  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 296 
 
Dance is a part-time, sometimes unpaid activity for Leota. He is part of a network of 
choreographers who work together to create works that may be supported by the state arts 
agency, Creative New Zealand, or other funders:  
We got a grant from the Art New Zealand [Creative New Zealand] to create work. 
Whoever?s got the money around here, they?ll give me a ring and say, ?Hey, you want to 
do some work?? I?m like, ?Oh yeah.? But I have a full-time job?this is like a hobby for 
me. 
 
He identifies the movements that he uses in his choreography as: 
Pasifika, underground kind of movements. You know, when you see ballet, it?s all up 
here, [gestures upward with both arms as he looks up] up in the heavens. But us ? 
Pasifika ? it?s always underground movements, and we all sink, you know, on the 
ground, our movements are all under. It?s never up here. I?m trying to mix that with the 
Island style. 
 
When asked to compare Pasifika with hip-hop, Leota says:  
It?s sort of the same, because we got the same beats. They do off-beats, we do off-beats. 
And our rhythm ? it?s all the same with hip-hop, it?s just the music... The music is sort 
of like the same, it?s just we?re using wood drums. They?re using records. But we?ve all 
got the same beats, the same rhythm. We?ve all got rhythm. 
 
?Freestyling? and ?freelancing? seem also to be equivalent terms for Leota in the sense 
he uses it to mean unattached or unbeholden to external interests, and therefore operating 
freely of one?s own will. When he talks about the other young men who are performing 
his piece he says: 
The boys are here, they?ve all done the course, and they?re all just freestyling. There?s 
guys around, just ring them up. ?Hey, you want to do something?? They?re all talented 
boys. Some of them doing 2
nd
, 3
rd
 year here. They?re still going.? And Leota posits the 
Pasifika beat as a unifying force for his mixed crew of ?freestylers?: ?They?re all 
different cultures ? Samoan, M ori, Palagi, all mixed ? and then when they come toge-
ther they?ve all got the same beat. They?ve all got rhythm. It?s all Pasifika ? all talented. 
Leota credits Whitireia with changing his life and opening a path for him:  
When I left school, I had nothing else to do. I thought, ?I want to do a bit of that.? I do 
culture dance. Whitireia sort of opened up things for me. I thought man, I want to be a 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 297 
 
choreographer and things like that, you know. Straight up, man. And people sort of put 
you down [for] kind of thing, but [you] just come back and go hard.  
 
He says the course changed his life:  
[Whitireia] changed my way of looking at life. [I] stopped being a hard core out on the 
street. [It] showed me how to be polite to people, really, and show this kind of way ? 
just be nice. I?m getting soft now! [He laughs.] 
 
He was also changed by travelling and connecting with other cultures:  
Yeah, it?s pretty good, sort of set me straight, travel around the world with these guys and 
learn a lot ? good experience. Go overseas, see different people, but they still have that 
connection with the cultural in different ways?you can see it. I?ve learned all that. 
 
Tupe Lualua: Gendering Pasifika  
After observing Ioani Leota?s rehearsal in the complex?s main corridor, I followed Tupe 
Lualua
18
 and her group of women into the Whitireia Performing Arts studio. The studio is 
adjacent to a small office that features desks for a receptionist and the tutors in an open 
seating arrangement. Behind the office there is a small kitchen and bathroom/changing 
room. The students, staff, and performers occupy the entire space ? flowing in and out at 
will ? as if it is the living room of a large, friendly family. 
Field Notes, continued 
Lualua assembles her four dancers in the mirrored studio as they rehearse their moves. 
The movements are metric as Lualua coordinates gestures with a repeated 8-beat count 
at a tempo of 96 beats/minute. The movements seem to be a compendium of modern 
dance and kapa haka-like movements combined with hip movements reminiscent of Cook 
Island female dancing.  
Movements take place on the beat, and the count clearly defines the location of the 
dancers in space, the speed of their movements, and even the rhythm of their footfalls. As 
they move in circles, they take up new positions where they engage in side-to-side 
motions in place ? all on the beat. 
                                                
18
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Tupe Lualua interviewed by H. Anderson, 
3/3/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 298 
 
This strikes species of rhythmic literalism is reinforced as the drummer (same person as 
in Ioani Leota?s piece) takes up a position on the side of the dance floor and takes up the 
steady beat. 
After an initial set of moves, Lualua plays a tape of Cook Island drumming, even as she 
continues the steady 8-beat count. The dance seems to be a kind of a modern rendition of 
Cook Island dance reinforced by other influences that seem to recede as the distinctive 
Cook Island drumming comes to dominate aurally. 
My overall impression is of a style of dance that is fundamentally Polynesian, but that 
utilizes modern technique and elements to extend its scope and range. In rehearsal, the 
music seemed like a literal and figurative placeholder ? it concretely marks time and 
place for the dancers, but it also operates as a kind of cultural semaphore ? a drone that 
is constantly tethered to the moment and focuses attention on the ?Polynesianness? of the 
performance. 
 
Tupe Lualua Interview 
Tupe Lualua was born in New Zealand in 1981 and is of Samoan descent. She has family 
ties to Whitireia and to Samoan dance:  
I had family that were in the group, and I just knew they were dancing and they loved it. 
And ever since I was little?I used to dance at church, at family things. My dad was a 
performer. 
 
She enrolled at Whitireia after dropping out of university. ?I was at varsity [university] 
for a couple of months and hated it,? she says. ?I dropped out and then I came here. That 
was 2001.? She gradated from Whitireia in 2003 and since that time has been a member 
of the Whitireia Professional Troupe. She works days as an advisor with Housing New 
Zealand. She identifies strongly with Whitireia and uses the pronoun ?we? to equate the 
institution?s goals with her own:  
What we try to do, we try and capture the four main cultures of Aotearoa/New Zealand. I 
mean not the four main, but we have M ori, Samoan, Cook Island, and Contemporary 
dance (which came from ballet). And we?re trying to develop our own form of 
contemporary dance, which is called Contemporary Pasifika, which is a fusion of both. 
We?re a school and we train in those main four cultures. Part of our study is to go 
overseas and perform at festivals alongside other countries ? like folklore festivals and 
things like that. Out of that we can go into teaching. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 299 
 
Sometimes the ?we? that Lualua refers to is more immediate and specific than an 
imagined community of ?Samoans? or ?Pacific Islanders?:  
We love it because we feel like we?re holding onto the treasures of our ancestors ? the 
language. There?s nothing better ? when you go overseas you feel like you?re repre-
senting not only your culture, but all [of] your people that you grew up with ? all the 
locals in Porirua. 
 
However her sense of ?we? shifts from specific to general when she talks about cultural 
preservation:  
It?s M ori, Samoan, and Cook Island [we?re carrying on all those cultures]. If you listen 
to our songs, we always refer to a place called Hawaiki or Avaiki. Where most of us 
Polynesians believe we all came from. Because we believe we were all one culture and 
then we split up. And that?s how we wound up in the Cook Islands and Samoa, [but] we 
haven?t found Avaiki yet. 
 
The notion of finding Avaiki, or something approaching it is a unifying metaphor for her 
and her classmates at Whitireia:  
We were fortunate enough to go to Easter Island last year so we feel pretty like we came  
[the] closest thing to it. Because Rapanui was just like where the islands meet the pa. We 
felt like ?this must be it!? or the closest thing. 
 
Indeed the concept of the ?islands meeting the pa? seems to be a metaphor for the 
conjuncture of Pacific Island and M ori cultures coming together in performance at 
Whitireia and Lualua propounds this notion as representing a narrative value:  
I think it?should mean a lot to anybody who grew up in New Zealand, considering 
M ori are the native people of New Zealand. I?m free and open to any culture like that. 
 
Similarly, ?contemporary dance? is something she associates with the European compo-
nent of New Zealand culture. Palagi/Pakeha culture is met in the program via training in 
balletic and modern dance technique that is part of their core curriculum:  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 300 
 
?Before we move onto contemporary Pasifika we all learn the basics, 1
st
, 2
nd
, 3
rd
 
[position], pli?, all of that, which all came from ballet. So we have to learn that core for 
the basics of Contemporary before we can move on to anything else. 
 
Her group is comprised of women and she sees her dance as constructing a particular 
view of Polynesian women:  
The dance I?m doing ? I haven?t named [it] or come up with a bio, yet. But I have a 
thing for women performing all together. I feel like once we?re in our own element ? 
we?re performing alongside each other ? we can empower each other. And there are 
certain moves. In this course I?ve always been competing with the boys. ?The boys get 
it easy around here because there are hardly any of them. Girls have to fight for their 
spot. But I?m always out there to prove girls can dance just as good as [or] better. And for 
me the most beautiful thing is Polynesian woman?s movement. Because a man can?t 
move like a woman can with her curves. 
 
Lualua?s conception is gendered, but the cultural basis for what she wants to achieve is 
not specific:  
I just want a cultural basis ? with a lot of moves, I?m not just looking at the specific 
Samoan, M ori, or Cook Island ? it?s a fusion of them all together as well as 
Contemporary. I can?t even explain it ? it?s just this whole aura of Polynesian women. 
It?s just great. There are four female performers?. I have one Tokelauan girl, two 
Samoan girls, and one half M ori, half Palagi, half Cook Island girl. ?And they?ve all 
got that Polynesian blood. And I know ? because we?ve all trained together ? so I 
know they?ve got that movement naturally inside them. ?I explained it to them ? we 
might not have a throne, we might not be living the life of royalty, but we are Polynesian 
princesses. That?s how I feel. And so the whole thing of the way a Polynesian princess 
moves. If you notice in our movements?there?s are no apologetic thing about it at all. 
Our heads are always up. We?re looking up towards the rangi, to the sky, looking for our 
ancestors, towards the sky. And we?re throwing everything we grew up with ? even 
though we grew up in an urban environment ? we?re chucking it out there and just 
acknowledging our ancestors. And in a lot of the movements, we?re trying to pull their 
spirit back into us so it flows out through the dance. 
 
D Letoa: M ori Pasifika 
After completing my interviews in the parking lot, I joined D Letoa
19
 at the street 
entrance to the Pataka complex where he was rehearsing three dancers with taonga p oro 
                                                
19
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are D Letoa interviewed by H. Anderson, 
3/3/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 301 
 
accompaniment. The koauau player ? a tall, rather lanky individual with a full facial 
moko and wearing a baseball cap ? sat on a low brick wall, hunched over as he played.  
Field Notes, continued 
There isn?t much traffic this time of day, and what there is, is muted. The koauau is the 
dominant sound ? soft and mournful. It mixes with the rustle of the dancers clothing as 
they execute their moves. Three women are in a diagonal line across the entranceway. 
The bulk of Letoa?s dance takes place on or near the ground as the three roll and contort, 
mostly in unison. There movements are coordinated visually between them, and there is 
no ?beat? to speak of. Following a series of moves on the ground, the women rise to a 
standing position, but the movements continue to be directed toward the ground and they 
seem to continually sink toward the earth. The three-way unisonal nature of the 
movements is finally interrupted as the two women at the extremes of the line take up 
staves that resemble taiaha [a spearlike fighting staff used in M ori martial arts]. The 
dancer in the center sinks to the ground as the other two stretch up, before sinking again. 
At this point Letoa blows a p torino and the dancers file into the main corridor of the 
complex. Letoa follows the dancers, continuing to blow on the p torino. The action then 
gives over to another performance. 
 
D Letoa Interview 
Born in 1976, D Letoa is M ori and grew up at Waikaremoana in the Urewera district of 
North Island, New Zealand. A fluent M ori speaker, he says he was raised by his grand-
mother and didn?t attend school until age eleven. While on tour with a group called 
Ahorangi Genesis, Letoa met Gaylene Sciascia who had brought a group of students to a 
performance. Letoa began at Whitireia in 1992, one year after the program?s inception. 
He describes being very impressed with the multi-cultural atmosphere in Porirua, and 
particularly at Whitireia:  
Touring around the country, I saw M ori fighting Pakeha, Tongan fighting Samoan. 
Everyone was fighting each other. But I come down here and everyone was living 
together. You know, there was Fijian, M ori, Chinese, Samoan. We were all family and it 
sort of caught my attention. I thought this is a place where I could just fully immerse 
myself because I?m into the unity and things like that, and just getting to know other 
cultures. Growing up all I knew was M ori, that was it. And I came out of that and it was 
just a big culture shock. So the Whitireia performing arts just opened my eyes to other 
cultures. 
 
He described his piece:  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 302 
 
It?s called ?Whenuatapu? ? ?The Earth Sacred.? It?s actually a dance piece from a 
production of about an hour and forty-five minutes long. I started it last year but I took a 
woman?s piece from it?I call it ?The Presence of Breath.? It was the first time life was 
breathed upon woman.? I don?t believe I came from a monkey ? I came from this 
earth. I was born of the earth. I?m just tucking some ladies away and letting them grow 
from out of the ground, covering them with dirt and leaving it real desolate. I feel it?s a 
time that things are finely balanced at the moment. All the foreshore stuff ? M ori 
belonging to this and to that ? I sort of tend to think otherwise. We?re just guardians of 
what we?ve been given. I mean I share it with everybody. We?re an embracing people, 
hospitality people. That?s what my Nan said anyway. I?d like to carry it on and still 
embrace people into our culture ? as opposed to scaring them away with the politics of it 
all ? just showing them the beauty of who we are (see Figure 13). 
 
Figure 13. D Letoa with dancer in full dress costume depicting being ?born of earth.? 
 
Letoa?s dancers are of mixed ethnicity:  
My dancers are all mixed. I chose the all mix because it was an opportunity for them to 
experience where I?m coming from, what I?m doing, man. I sort of feel it?s a privilege to 
have a Samoan dancing in a M ori piece, couple of M ori dancers as well. Just trying to 
utilize and trying to introduce people who are not so familiar with M ori culture and just 
give them a taste of something different. 
 
He feels the contemporary idiom gives him freedom from some cultural restrictions:  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 303 
 
Because it?s contemporary, there?s no boundaries, there?s no sacred ? that?s tapu or 
that?s noa. You can do that or that. So it eliminates all that. I tend to think if it?s coming 
from the heart. How can that be wrong? 
 
He attributes his appreciation for contemporary dance to his experience at Whitireia:  
Liz Davies, she taught me to think outside the square of a powhiri just being Haere Mai. 
Can?t you put a Haere Mai into movement? I thought, man I never thought of that. I was 
always different, I did kapa haka and stuff like that, but I wanted to just bust out of that. It 
became entertaining. I wanted to make a statement of just something totally different. 
 
The music for Letoa?s piece is taonga p oro and he uses other traditional elements in his 
choreography:  
The music that I?m using is taonga p oro. It?s all live, traditional stuff. Whereas the 
dance moves that I?m using and depicting ? if you look at koru [a coiled, unfurling fern] 
as being the main sort of [icon that] you could?say, ?That?s M ori.? I?m taking the 
movements from that and utilizing it fully, having women grow like trees, like the birds 
and the water, things like that ? just all the elements. I love doing that, the whaea 
[mother] bringing it to life. 
 
He also talked about being impressed by other Pacific influences:  
The Samoan influence for me was when I went to Samoa in ?96. We went to Apia for the 
Pacific Arts Festival. I came back and said to all my brothers back here, ?Whoa what are 
you doing in New Zealand?? Everything is in Apia man ? for Samoans, run by Samoans 
you know. I think there were nine M ori that went over in the group; nine of us didn?t 
want to come back. We all wanted to stay there, you know. I saw an enjoyment in the 
culture that wasn?t quite there in the M ori culture. I enjoyed what I was doing, but it was 
a discipline, it was regiment. It was always militant, had to bang, bang, bang. The 
Samoan culture was just a little bit different, they enjoyed themselves, and they had fun 
with what they were doing. And then the Cook Island experience, they were just out of 
this world. The movements they did, the noises they made, the beat of the Pacific in the 
drums. This is me! I just loved this heartbeat. 
 
Annabelle Reader: Pakeha Pasifika 
Annabelle Reader
20
 rehearsed her solo piece at the far end of the corridor, opposite the 
public library, the only business still open in the late afternoon. D Letoa blew his 
                                                
20
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Annabelle Reader interviewed by H. 
Anderson, 3/4/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 304 
 
p torino to announce the beginning of Reader?s piece. And as she danced her solo, 
accompanied only by quiet, recorded sounds of sea birds, rustling forests, and crashing 
surf, library patrons occasionally walked through the performance space, on their way to 
the parking lot. 
Field Notes, continued 
The smooth stone floor is mostly bare except for some leaves strewn on one side. Reader 
begins her piece, prostrate on the floor. She twists and turns, rolls onto her back, and 
then bridges with her neck. After a brief neckstand, she rolls back onto her front, then 
arches her body and extends arms and legs, gently waving them as if floating suspended 
in air or water. The effect is of an albatross soaring low over the waves. Eventually she 
rises, but with arms still extended and undulating as to continue the illusion of flight. 
As all of this transpires, the other dancers have taken up positions on the floor and on the 
perimeter to watch. The piece is meditative in character and even Reader's positioning ? 
at the far end of the corridor, removed from the other dancers ? seems to reflect 
loneliness and isolation.  
     
Annabelle Reader Interview 
Annabelle Reader is a first-generation New Zealander, born in Wellington, New Zealand 
in 1977. Her parents are Canadian and English. She identifies herself as a Pakeha New 
Zealander. Reader grew up mainly in nearby Plimmerton and attended high school in 
Porirua at Aotea College, which she describes as ?a very multi-cultural school.? She 
attended the performing arts program at Whitireia for one year in 1996 before leaving to 
finish her studies at Unitec, an Auckland polytechnic that offers a more academic (and 
European) oriented program. At Unitec, she completed a Bachelor of Performing and 
Screen Arts (Contemporary Dance). 
Currently, Reader is on a three-year ?Learning Experiences Outside the Classroom? 
contract with the New Zealand Ministry of Education executed through Dance Aotearoa 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 305 
 
New Zealand (DANZ). Her role is to support the dance curriculum throughout the 
country.  
Reader described how it felt to be in a ?minority? on the Whitireia course:  
I found that I was a minority, which I?d never been before, so it was the reverse. ?There 
were three of us [Pakeha] on the course out of 20, maybe 25. ?I found I was really 
patronized and I didn?t enjoy that. I was constantly struggling against this, ?There, there, 
you don?t know the culture, you don?t know the language.? And I was actually here to 
learn it and not to be patronized. 
 
Reader is ambivalent about her identity and about having left Whitireia, and finds herself 
drawn back to the Porirua area.  
I moved straight back down after graduating. Came back home and lived back out here 
for a while, which was lovely. It felt really nice to come back home. There is a very 
strong sense of home for me here, even though I?m still trying to find my turangawaewae 
[literally ?place to make a strong stand?]. I don?t really understand my heritage. I don?t 
really understand my whakapapa. And my [family] ? we?re a travelling family, so in 
that respect I don?t have very strong roots anywhere, and I don?t really know my place to 
stand. And so when I come back here I often feel like, ?Yes?my heart sings.? There?s 
something in it that makes me say, ?Yes this is it.? But I?m still on the outside. I?m still 
the ?not-knowing Pakeha,? I guess, to a certain extent. 
 
Reader considers herself a ?Pakeha? and feels the term identifies her as being uniquely a 
New Zealander:  
I like to identify myself as Pakeha because I am from Aotearoa; this is my home. Even 
though I?m first generation New Zealand, it?s very much home for me. To use the M ori 
term of Pakeha makes me identify myself as from New Zealand, Aotearoa.  
 
Reader talked about differences in Pacific and European conceptions of dance based on a 
comparison of her experiences at Unitec and Whitireia:  
After leaving Whitireia and going up to Unitec, [where it] is predominantly European? 
we did a token ? which angered me actually ? a token aspect of kapa haka. I thought 
?If you?re going to do it, do it properly,? and they didn?t, and they don?t. I went very 
much into my aesthetic training of ballet and lost a lot of the groundedness, and I still 
have not retained it. Whether my body doesn?t retain it because it?s not part of me, I?m 
not sure. Whether it?s not part of my sense of being in this land. I?m not sure what it is. 
Currently, I?m trying to find that out for myself?where I stand in this land and whether 
that will relate to my art form as it is.  
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 306 
 
But [when I left Whitireia] I moved away from the very groundedness, the heaviness, the 
real earthiness and went back into the ethereal aesthetic of ballet. ?So it?s a constant ebb 
and flow for me where I stand and what circles I move in and how I choose to portray 
that aspect of my personality through movement. ?At Whitireia I gained a deep sense of 
connectedness to the land. And then that completely disappeared when I went to Unitec. 
So trying to tie the two?the academic side of things [with] the rootedness of Whitireia, 
it?s the feet and the head?. 
 
She talked about how her struggles with identity and place play out in her current piece:  
 
I?m working with finding out who I am, where I stand. Why I do this art form, what is it 
about? ?Who am I? Where am I standing? I don?t like watching dance without no 
message, so why would I want to perform dance with no message? So I started thinking 
about that and I?ve been thinking about the godwits flying, you know the migratory birds 
who fly 11,000 miles. And where there home is, coming from a migratory family myself, 
relating it very much to myself in that way. ?I?m working with the idea of home, 
migratory birds, treading lightly on the earth, treading lightly on Aotearoa because that?s 
what I feel like I?m doing. I feel like I?m trying to find where my roots are, but I don?t 
really feel that I have a home as such because family and whanau are so important to me. 
I?m the only one in New Zealand now?. It?s about trying to find out where I am looking 
down on the earth, being part of the earth. 
 
Reader?s story is about finding her place. She clearly identifies across some cultural lines 
? she is constructing her identity in New Zealand in relation to the landscape and to the 
Pacific, but also in relation to her European ?roots.? As a first generation New Zealander, 
she carries less local baggage in the sense that her family has not been as engaged as 
some others with histories of local internecine conflicts. She does invest herself in the 
symbols of the land, and particularly with vocabularies of movement and gesture that she 
associates with her dance studies and their cultural referents. 
In the next section, I relate the story of a very recent immigrant to New Zealand, 
Sylvester Gahungu, who came to the country as a refugee. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 307 
 
Burundi to Aotearoa: Sylvester Gahungu 
Sylvester Gahungu
21
 is the leader of a Burundi dance and drumming group. I observed 
performances of the group at the opening of an African New Zealand Forum where they 
performed in support of the manuhiri during a mihi (?welcome? ? an abbreviated 
powhiri), (see Figure 14) and at the Auckland International Festival. 
 
Figure 14. Sylvester Gahungu speaks on behalf of the African ?manuhiri? at a ?welcome 
ceremony? conducted by Unitec Polytechnic staff for the 2006 Africa-New Zealand 
Conference. Note Burundian drummers preparing to support the speech. 
 
I interviewed Gahungu at his home on Auckland?s North Shore. He lives in an enclave of 
state houses in a poor community that seems to be largely populated by Pacific Islanders 
and urban M ori. As I pulled up to his house there were four or five African men sitting 
around outside on the front stoop on plastic chairs and boxes talking. A few were 
drinking red wine or beer. The men directed me to Gahungu?s door and he invited me 
into his living room. The only other member of Gahungu?s immediate family in evidence 
was his 6-year-old son, Phil who hung about and played happily as we talked. About half 
way through our interview a loud commotion erupted outside and Gahungu went outside 
                                                
21
 N.B., unless otherwise noted, all quotes in this section are Sylvester Gahungu interviewed by H. 
Anderson, 4/14/2006. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 308 
 
to sort it out. I followed him out to see a young man who appeared to be about 20 years 
old punching and kicking an older man in his forties or fifties. The older man appeared to 
be drunk. Gahungu broke up the fight (the older man took the worst of it by far) and was 
punched in the face as in the process. The younger man yelled back at the older man as 
he ran away, showing no remorse. As we went back to the house, Gahungu told me that 
the young man was jobless and had no skills or education. After the brouhaha had settled, 
Gahungu came back into the house and we took up the interview without further com-
ment. The sense that violence lurked just beneath the surface for some of the immigrants, 
and the hopelessness of the young man?s situation, were palpable.  
Sylvester Gahungu was born in Burundi in central eastern Africa (between Tanzania and 
Congo), in June 1964, two years after Burundi?s independence. He came to New Zealand 
March 18, 1998. He estimates that when he arrived there were only ?four or five 
families? from Burundi ? about 32 people ? who had come to New Zealand about two 
years prior to himself. He speaks of this earlier group as his ?extended family? and says 
they ?made the [Burundian] community in New Zealand.? Gahungu estimates the current 
(in 2006, when I conducted the interview) population to be about 180. He says the 
community?s population doubled in 2005 when a large group came in, and he says the 
size of the community is increasing. The families are located primarily in Auckland and 
Wellington. 
The Burundians came to New Zealand as refugees. According to Gahungu, the Burun-
dians began their flight from the home country in October of 1993, at the time of the 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 309 
 
Burundian civil war.
22
 Gahungu says, ?A lot of us fled the country, to neighboring 
countries, some of us went all over the world.? They came to New Zealand as part of the 
refugee quota system. Gahungu and his compatriots were required to go to any acceptable 
country that would take them in: ?We had no choice, you had to go to any country willing 
to take you.? 
Gahungu associates music with the Burundian nation, its institutions, leaders, and 
national pride and he talks about music as ?tradition? in the context of Burundi?s inde-
pendence: 
The drumming, what we do, is tradition. It?s all about tradition actually ? we have a 
tradition of drumming, we have oral tradition, and we express this through music, 
through whatever we say, whatever we do. Drumming is one of the expressions of who 
we are, where we come from, what is the power of our nation. Drumming actually has the 
origin of showing the power of the king, because drumming only took place at the king?s 
palace. And [also] at very meaningful national events, people went there [to the palace] 
for drumming to show that they are happy, they are proud of what is going on, they are 
proud of their king ? whoever was leading the country. 
From the time of independence, drumming has been the expression of the leader of the 
nation addressing the country. That?s where we see drumming starting. Even the radio 
broadcasting ? we didn?t normally broadcast 24 hours a day ? 5 am to 11 pm. At the 
opening of the broadcast would start with drumming and the closing would end with 
drumming. Which means drumming is part of our life. 
Drumming is actually centered at the center of the country. The good drummers live in 
the very, very center of our country. They drum [there] because at the time of 
colonization, the capital city was the center of the country. 
 
He went on to talk about how dance and drumming were essential parts of Burundian 
culture. As in other parts of post-colonial Africa, in Burundi drumming is taught in 
schools, and festivals and competitions are regular events: 
Any school would have a drumming group ? any school from primary all the way up to 
high school. Every year we have a festival between primary schools and secondary 
                                                
22
 Melchior Ndadaye, Burundi?s first democratically elected (and first Hutu) president, was assassinated 
October 21, 1993. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 310 
 
schools and part of it will be every cultural activity, and drumming will be the highlight. 
And drumming will be the one that everyone will be looking at?. 
 
Gahungu talked about Burundians bringing their music to New Zealand, what it means 
and how it operates. Their music is a means to remember ? and in some cases recapture 
? who they are and where they came from: ?And what we were aiming for was, we 
come here, we are who we are, and we bring what we have ? what is part of our life. We 
do drumming.?  
According to Gahungu, Burundian drumming is unique:  
Anyone who hasn?t been living in Burundi will not know exactly how we drum. ?We 
have a national drumming group and they have performed all over the world. And 
Burundi is known as having one unique drumming way ? everyone [doesn?t have this]! 
And that?s the way we do it here. If you look at the way we drum, you probably [will not] 
find any similarity [with what] you have experienced before. 
 
The Burundians use drumming to generate interest in themselves and their culture and 
also to engage with New Zealanders. In some sense it is an advertisement for them and 
Gahungu stresses the affective dimensions of drumming ? both listening and learning to 
play:  
Everyone [is] excited about drumming because it is an exciting physical activity?you 
feel good about it. You feel like people will like you when you drum and that?s what we 
do ? that?s how we do it and people feel proud of doing it. 
 
Gahungu talked about engaging with people in New Zealand in order to get instruments 
made:  
We made [our drums] here. We struggled [to get them made]. I spent more than two 
months looking, ringing people. [No one could do it because] they didn?t do the archaic 
ways. We eventually approached some people who work at home for their workshop and 
we said, that?s what we want to do. We described what we wanted them to do for us and 
they actually managed to do some. Our very, very first drums...were made by assembling 
timber around a circular shape and ended up finding a drum and we had to cover it with 
cowskin ourselves. Which took us a long time, but we finally got there. [Now] we have 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 311 
 
someone who can dig a piece of wood [from a solid log] ? and you dig a very deep hole, 
about 800 mm deep ? a piece of log, you dig it until you get to 800m deep...cover it with 
a piece of cowhide, and we have to [seal] it so we have no air leak and then the sound 
will be perfect. And?the sound [varies] according to the size of the timber [log]. We had 
never done this before, because, in my country, [specialist] people make [the] drums. 
 
Speaking about repertoires, Gahungu stresses that, while Burundian drumming and drum 
repertoires are more or less standardized throughout the country, dance repertoires are 
more regional. The reconstruction of Burundian performance in New Zealand requires 
the individual performers to learn unfamiliar repertoires: 
We tried to bring it all, from all the regions but we don?t have representatives from each 
of these regions. We struggle to teach everyone how to do this, we don?t have people who 
can [teach all of the dances]. Drumming has been the focus of the whole country ? 
something that everyone does. 
 
Gahungu alluded to the construction of a repertoire of a Burundian ?national dance? by 
current governments, and says they are attempting to bring those dances to New Zealand: 
Government has decided to make a national dance so that?s why we come here to dance. 
Some female dances have become nationally known and we have tried to bring them 
here. ?If you come to one of our festivals, you will see men drumming and the women 
dancing. 
 
A lot of the performance in New Zealand is new to Gahungu. He associates the authen-
ticity of their drumming and dance with life ?back home.? He suggests that what they do 
in New Zealand isn?t ?actually real?: 
What we try to do here ? I?ve never done before back home. What they do back home is 
part of their life. They do it everyday. So when they do it, it?s actually real. It?s actually 
real. They live it everyday. What we do here is artificial. We learn it and try to be as 
perfect as we can. But we can?t ever [really] do it unless we have lived it. 
 
According to Gahungu there is also a distance, in place and time but also in cultural 
engagement, between Burundian refugees and their former homes: 
Some of our people here have been running away from our country since 1965. Some 
people don?t even remember how Burundi culture is. They have to learn it again. People 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 312 
 
like me who have been in the country until the time I run away ? I still have all of the 
information about [the country] and I try to teach them. Still, they find it difficult to 
perform. They try their best and compared to what professionals do, they?re not too bad 
? we?re not. 
 
Gahungu associates the drumming and dance as a way to promote positive images of the 
home country. He is conscious of performing arts as a stimulus to tourism and associates 
affective engagement with place and people with performance. When I commented on 
the fact that Gahungu smiled as he talked about their performance he said: 
That?s part of it ? if you perform you are happy. If you are showing the power of your 
nation ? how can you show the power of your nation if you?re angry? You [must] show 
your country has a lot of things to offer. One of the things to keep in mind: drumming, 
like the warrior?s dance, is one of our touristic attractions. So people leave?Europe, 
American, [wherever] they come [from]. They visit the beautiful country. But ? in any 
beautiful country you may see the quiet forest, the pretty birds flying ? it would be good 
if you could see some people?around this! And this has been a kind of attraction ? 
wherever you go you find a group of dancers?if you go west you?ll see agasimbo, go 
east you?ll see umuyebe. 
 
There is a subtle reference to New Zealand?s countryside in this: Gahungu?s implication 
is that colorful people augment the appeal of the beautiful countryside, and Burundians 
can add to the country?s appeal.  
Gahungu went on to talk about how he sees the Burundians performance fitting into New 
Zealand culture: 
[Music] has helped us in different ways. The first thing is, we get more recognized for 
what we do. And people see us?. People?can listen to what we do and enjoy it and say, 
?these people are really great.? Secondly, we manage to get the entire community [to] 
believe ?there are new things coming to our country.? And they can sit back and watch us 
and say, ?what about [bringing] some more people who can bring more new things to our 
country.? Because they?ve probably been watching haka, they?ve probably been watching 
the Pacific dances all their life, and they haven?t been seeing any other things. And what 
we have been doing is probably absolutely new to them. They look at it and say ?this is 
really great ? we can watch it, it?s exciting and, it?s going to be part of our culture now.? 
Although, you know, European people don?t believe they really have a culture, but they 
should have one! [Even] just to speak their language is a cultural thing. And they 
probably enjoy seeing other people say ?this is our culture.? They want [to] make what 
we do as part of their culture ? New Zealand cultural activity. Then we think we are just 
doing the best thing we can do. 
 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 313 
 
Gahungu also talked about the interactions with M ori and Pacific peoples in their shared 
urban landscape: 
In this environment we have people ? Pacific Islanders are people I live with, and 
M ori. Obviously, you can imagine all the M oris seeing things happening. They are 
excited about it. They want to join in. And I?ve had some Pacific Island people say, ?Hey. 
You drum, we drum, but it?s different ? but anyway, we can train to do your drumming. 
Are you willing to train to do our drumming?? ?I?ve had some white people telling me, 
?I saw you perform at this event, is there anywhere in the country we can learn to 
perform that way?? We are looking at being open to the normal public and teaching them 
to drum. 
 
Gahungu is pursuing sponsorship to promote Burundian drumming as part of New 
Zealand culture. His goal is institutional support and presence and he has begun looking 
from sponsorship from Arts Aotearoa, the New Zealand national art funding body. His 
goal is to have Burundian performance take a place alongside haka as a ?New Zealand 
attraction?: 
Two or three years ago, I tried to contact some sponsors from an organization called Arts 
Aotearoa to see if we can make the drumming part of the New Zealand attractions. I saw 
people keen to take us ahead if we can provide a good group available to perform at the 
[appropriate] time?. And we saw some people willing to do it. The project was a little 
bit abandoned, because at that time I resigned from what I was doing. I was the secretary 
of the community ? the one taking the project ? and when I resigned it couldn?t go 
ahead. But I?m trying to go back to my project again. And one of my focuses is getting 
professional drums from Burundi. Once I get the drums, I?ve got the numbers now ? I 
have a lot of young boys full of energy. And we?re looking at being part of the New 
Zealand attractions. Just like the haka is seen as an attraction ? you?ll probably see us at 
the museum and we?ll get a group, being part of the attractions performing drums. The 
girls ? We?ll probably incorporate girls? dances into our drumming group. Hopefully ? 
we believe very soon ? we?ll be able to combine the women?s dance into our drumming 
performances. I hope it?s going to go great. 
 
Ultimately the music and dance are a hopeful investment for Gahungu and Burundis ? a 
dream, a narrative of possibility. He sees Burundian performance as potentially equiva-
lent to Pacific dance and M ori haka. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 314 
 
Performing Burundi in New Zealand 
At the time (2006), when I first encountered Sylvester Gahungu and the Burundian 
drummers, I had been a ?member? of the African community in New Zealand for 20 
years, dating back to 1986, when I first performed in Auckland and members of the 
community showed up in large numbers to support me. Until recently, the community has 
been a casual association between (black) African descended people. The main concen-
trations of people are in Auckland and Wellington. People have come here via various 
paths ? many (like myself) have married New Zealanders and in recent times there are 
also an increasing number of refugees. There are a large number of countries represented 
including Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan, Eritrea, Ghana, Malawi, and many others. There are 
also a few African descended black people from the United States and the Caribbean. 
 
Figure 15. Hari Paniora speaks on behalf of the tangata whenua at an abbreviated powhiri to 
welcome the attendees of the 2006 Africa/New Zealand Conference. 
 
Around 2004, a more formal face of the New Zealand African, the African Community of 
Auckland Region Incorporated (ACARI), was initiated by several Africans who remain 
in touch with families and friends in Africa. The African New Zealand Forum was 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 315 
 
organized by ACARI to facilitate the development of international projects and economic 
initiatives to benefit impoverished people in their home countries. They brought together 
officials and representatives of African countries (some based in Australia) to discuss 
topics relevant to Africans in New Zealand and overseas. The formation of this associa-
tion also represents a step toward the construction of a more formal African New Zealand 
identity. 
Africa New Zealand Powhiri, February 4, 2006 
I was particularly interested in attending this forum because ?cultural performances? 
were featured and because the meeting, which was held at Unitec Polytechnic?s Carring-
ton campus in Auckland, was to be opened with a ?M ori greeting,? as Coulybali, the 
ACARI secretary, described it. When I arrived about 20 minutes early, I encountered 
Hari Paniora, the Polytech?s pae arahi (literally ?chief of bringing ashore?) or M ori 
liaison. I first met Paniora in 1995 when I was running a Jazz and World Music summer 
program at Unitec. At that time, I arranged with him to do a formal powhiri to welcome 
my international students and instructors onto the campus ? the first time anyone had 
made such a request, and as such a historic occasion for Pukenga, Unitec?s M ori studies 
component. 
After Paniora and I exchanged greetings, a primly kept, blond woman came to discuss the 
protocols of the meeting with him. She was representing the African community for the 
purposes of setting up the M ori welcome. She was clearly not a New Zealander and was 
not familiar with either the mechanics or the purpose of a M ori welcome. (Coulybali 
later informed me that she is a South African immigrant). It was very interesting to see 
white South Africans in visible roles in the African association. 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 316 
 
A small audience of about 50 people included several adorned in colorful and ornate 
African clothing ? with flowing robes and matching hats. At the opening to the forum, 
Paniora delivered a welcoming speech, followed by a song. Another M ori member of 
the Unitec staff sang with Paniora in support. After the song, and in response to the M ori 
mihi, Sylvester Gahungu delivered a short address to the assembly, and he and his drum 
ensemble, all wearing traditional garments, performed (see Figure 16). 
Speaking to the assemblage of dignitaries (including some African ambassadors to 
Australia and New Zealand) Gahungu seemed at ease. The performance of the drummers 
was more tentative, however. This was most evident when the piece that they performed 
called for the drummers to respond to the leader, Gahungu with a loud ?Hey!? The 
response seemed timid, as if the drummer were not yet comfortable enough ? with either 
their performance or, possibly their situation ? to speak out confidently.  
 
Figure 16. Burundian drummers perform at the 2006 International Festival hosted by the 
RMS Refugee Resettlement organization at Potter?s Park in Auckland. 
 
Auckland International Festival 
I also saw the Burundians perform on the occasion of the Auckland International Festival 
hosted annually by the RMS Refugee Resettlement organization in Auckland. RMS is 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 317 
 
non-governmental organization that is affiliated with church groups that aids in the 
resettlement of refugees.  
The festival features a diverse program with performers from Thai, Indian, Chinese, 
Malaysian, and several African communities, mostly from the Auckland area. The 
Burundian performance featured ten adult performers and three or four children. The 
performance was more animated than the one I witnessed at the Forum. The festival is 
very well attended and the Burundian performance drew a large crowd who stood around 
and watched as the Gahungu and some of the Burundians cavorted. Most of the drum-
mers seem to be trying, but it is clear that they are learning as they go. And the sense that 
they are not yet comfortable is palpable. Gahungu?s function seems to be to try to build 
enthusiasm in both the crowd and his fellows, and his enthusiasm is catching. 
Chapter Summary 
The title of this dissertation is ?A Confluence of Streams.? The question is then how do 
diverse ?streams? come together to reach this goal?  
In this chapter, I focus on migrants, immigrants, and their children as they seek to write 
themselves into a narrative of belonging in (relatively) new circumstances. I am particu-
larly conscious of them being ?in the shadow of biculturalism? in the sense that they do 
not have long standing relationships and interactions in New Zealand. My question 
therefore is where is their ?mana?? ? that is to say, with reference to what sets of values 
and institutions do they derive value?  
As in past chapters, I proceed by framing voices and reconstructing narratives that reflect 
what I ?heard? in the testimony of my interviewees. I pay particular attention to how they 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 318 
 
frame and attempt to construct traditions and histories, and how and where they are 
affectively engaged, especially where they place value and how they determine worth, 
truth, and authenticity. 
Samoan dancer Keneti Muaiava was born in Samoa but came to New Zealand as a small 
child. He says he grew up in ?Samoa in South Auckland.? His referents and the source of 
his ?authority? ? his mantle of authenticity and his effective power to move his Samoan 
community ? are in relation to a particular set of repertoires and institutions which 
include ?family and the church.? He is motivated by a sense of responsibility to his 
lineage as ?Samoan dance royalty? and to his Samoan community as they strive to 
survive and prosper in New Zealand. He is an innovator because he feels that dance, by 
its nature, is embodied in a present moment, and that the concept of ?tradition? is itself an 
abstract that must be realized in the present. 
Keneti Muaiava?s narrative is a pioneer saga ? it is an epic that spans generations and an 
ocean. His story is heroic in the sense that, rather than submit to those who would define 
him (and his people), he defines himself. Born to a tradition and girded by fluency in both 
the language of his birth and that of his new home, his method of resistance is to 
performatively rewrite a set of ?rules? that are based on an abstract ? ?tradition.? 
?Abstract tradition? is tradition that does not take change into account. His goal is to 
overwrite this set of tautological delusions that lack substance, like false gods, by 
injecting them with meaning.  
For Muaiava, virtue is in honoring the past by providing for the future of Samoa-in-New 
Zealand. And Samoa-in-New Zealand is a place where the cultural power of Samoa is 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 319 
 
concentrated, so much so that it becomes a new center of cultural production that takes 
the place of the old. However, while this story is epic, its action is local. It is not a story 
of New Zealand national redemption, at least that is not its focus. But it is a story of a 
kind of phased reality, where standpoints shift and multiple realities may coexist and that 
allows for the (distant) possibility that outsiders might participate and even add to its 
discourse. Muaiava?s engagement, his affective investment is in a story of New Zealand-
Samoan culture that is a fixed part of the landscape ? that flexes and adapts, but is 
irreducible. For Muaiava, the proof of Samoan indigeneity or belonging in New Zealand 
is in the creation of authentic (Samoan) performance ? the notion that ?New Zealand 
Samoan? is a ?real? category. 
Ultimately Muaiava?s narrative is traditionalist ? it is conservative of a particular 
cultural construct. It is innovative in the sense that it breaks with attempts to preserve 
culture in a static state ? a demonstrable impossibility. But the conservative cultural 
construct produced is itself a meme ? it is self-contained and exists primarily in 
reference to a (culturally) local population. It represents a thriving colony, but by itself it 
does not go toward constructing a nation. Similarly, it does not necessarily hinder 
intercultural articulations, but neither does it promote them ? essentially it is affectively 
neutral in this regard. 
Following Muaiava?s interview, I summarize field research conducted at the 2005 and 
2006 ASB Polyfest Festival, where I witnessed cultural groups from Auckland area 
secondary schools compete. This site provided insight into interactions between students, 
particularly on the Diversity Stage where several different ethnic groups competed 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 320 
 
against each other. The mixed cultural environment and instances of students engaging 
across cultural boundaries are indicative of a potential for the construction of new, hybrid 
identities and performances in New Zealand. 
The next section, Whitireia Performing Arts, picks up on some of the same populations 
that I witnessed at the ASB Polyfest Festival as they matriculate into a tertiary education 
environment and beyond. This section begins with Gaylene Sciascia, the originator of an 
innovative performing arts program at Whitireia Community Polytechnic in Porirua, just 
north of Wellington. Sciascia?s role is as an ?insitutionalizer,? or at least initiator of a 
school of performance in both the sense of creating a new ?style? of contemporary dance 
in New Zealand that incorporates elements from a set of Pacific repertoires and European 
vocabularies, and also in the sense of fomenting this program in a formal educational 
context. 
Gaylene Sciascia?s voice is included here as an agent of institutionalization of New 
Zealand and Pasifika identities. 
Sciascia?s is a redemptive narrative with arts as the hero. Her narrative is fueled by an 
affective engagement with dance and music and the belief that these type of activities tap 
into a universal humanistic wellspring ? that her affection is universal. The local action 
of the plot involves empowering young people, but the scope of her argument is more 
general.  
Following Sciascia?s narrative I intertwine the voices of Tuaine Robati, the co-leader of 
the Whitireia program and who teaches Cook Island dance and music there, with the 
voices of four former students as they rehearse a set of pieces for an upcoming 
Chapter 5: Other Encounters ? Mana Pasifika in the Shadow of Biculturalism? 321 
 
performance. Robati?s story of being a Cook Island M ori in New Zealand, where he is 
lumped in the same catchall with other Pacific Island groups, elaborates on the shadow 
metaphor and reveals some of the inherent difficulties with the way biculturalism is 
institutionally implemented by the New Zealand government.  
The four ex-students/graduates provide insights into their creative process in the con-
struction of a ?Pasifika Contemporary Dance? movement that has further deconstructed 
some traditional cultural elements to provide them with an expressive form that matches 
their lived experience in New Zealand. Their testimonies are interspersed with field notes 
describing the elements of their performances and establishing connections between what 
they say, their experiences in the Whitireia program, and their current expressive art. 
The chapter ends with the testimony of Sylvester Gahungu, a Burundian refugee who has 
relocated to New Zealand under duress. His narrative tells the story of his use of 
Burundian drumming to draw his small refugee community together. He speaks of his 
aspiration that people will come to see Burundian drumming as an icon of New Zealand 
similar to haka. Gahungu?s testimony is followed by brief descriptions of him and his 
compatriots in performance at a mihi (M ori welcome) and at the Auckland International 
Festival.  
322 
 
Chapter 6 
Processes, Maps, and Transformations 
 
In this chapter, I theorize connections between traditional and contemporary identities as 
expressions of functional or processual persistence. I explicate ?new? cultural expres-
sions and identities as interactive manifestations of processes. In order to accomplish this, 
I set out tradition as an expression of historical situatedness, authenticity as an affective 
investment related to contemporary situatedness, and ?identity? as a synthesis of these 
concepts, the result of a dialectical motion between them. 
I represent processes and dispositions graphically as ?maps? which are then manipulated 
to effect transformations that constitute shifts in viewpoint, particularly shifts correspond-
ing to groups? differences in affect. 
I proceed by mapping affective attributes and cultural investments of groups as observed 
in historic and contemporary performances. Blumer?s notion of ?collective definition? is 
a central analytic device for producing processual maps of emergent identities among 
various cultural and ethnic domains and sub-domains in New Zealand. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 323 
 
Processes: Collective Definition and Emerging Identities 
According to Blumer, ?The process of collective definition determines the career
1
 and 
fate of social problems, from the initial point of their appearance to whatever may be the 
terminal point in their course.?
2
 I see the collective definition process as a motion that 
begins as an inchoate, relatively unruly or indeterminate democratic process as a cultural 
entity (or identity) emerges, and that may over time result in the production a more 
determinate entity, an institution, or institutionalized identity.  
Blumer sets out five stages of collective definition of a ?problem? as it becomes a real, 
named entity for a population: emergence, as a society comes to recognize the existence 
of a ?problem?; legitimation, when the problem acquires ?a necessary degree of respecta-
bility which entitles it to consideration in the recognized areas of public discussion?; 
mobilization, when the problem ?becomes the object of discussion? between various 
interested parties both inside and outside of the local community where the problem 
originally emerged; formation of official/institutional policy; and implementation, when 
policy is put into practice with attendant intended and unintended consequences.
3
 
Blumer?s process of collective definition may be adapted and generalized to apply to 
other collectively determined aspects of changing and emerging group identity and cul-
                                                
1
 In symbolic interactionist terminology, ?career? refers to people?s involvement with an activity or situa-
tion over time: how people become involved with an activity or situation, the circumstances under which 
they are likely to continue with that activity or in that situation, how they become disinvolved, and when 
and how they might become reinvolved. Prus 1996: 85; see also Becker 1963.  
2
 Blumer 1971: 301. 
3
 Blumer 1971. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 324 
 
ture, including the construction of a ?new? tradition, and to chart the course of its ?career 
and fate.? In the emergent phase, a community becomes aware of a cultural object ? 
artifact or practice. Subsequently, as it becomes recognized within the community as 
something of value that is appropriately associated or identified with that community and 
that belongs to it in some significant way, the cultural object achieves ?legitimacy.? In 
the mobilization phase, the cultural object accrues an epic quality ? it achieves 
recognition outside the community of its putative origin and becomes a symbol that may 
be used to represent some aspect or aspects of the original community by both insiders 
and outsiders, and as such it becomes a mechanism for investment by insiders and 
outsiders. At this point in its career, the cultural object becomes a fulcrum ? a point of 
articulation or a ?hinge? between cultural realities. This fulcrum can be mapped as an 
intersection of social spaces. 
The status of the cultural object?s worthiness for inclusion in institutions is established in 
the legitimation and mobilization phases, but the specifics of a method for inclusion, and 
the ?rules? governing the object?s use (the how of its inclusion and the manner of the 
cultural object?s presentation) is established in the ?institutional? or ?policy formation? 
phase. In this phase, the cultural object inspires a set of texts that in some way attempt to 
?fix? (to explicate or codify) its meanings and usage in official or quasi-official contexts. 
The process of institutionalization may be either active or passive, and texts can operate 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 325 
 
by prescription or by example, so that any setting of the cultural object ? whether in 
performance, in a museum, or in literature ? has an institutional dimension.
4
  
The implementation phase relates to how texts and policies translate into real-world 
readings and situations. The impacts of implementation are read in responses and reac-
tions of audiences and stakeholders which feed back into continuing iterations of legiti-
mation and mobilization phases. 
Phases may overlap ? particularly the emergent, legitimation, and mobilization phases. 
Indeed the ?phases? of the collective definition process are analytic categories whose 
purpose is to interrogate the nature of the cultural object in relation to the communities 
that are affectively invested in it. Emergence asks what are the most basic ?elements? that 
are present at the inception of the cultural object; legitimation interrogates the bases for 
authentication that enable people to affectively invest in the object; mobilization interro-
gates the articulation between planes of social space, which manifests as interaction 
between diverse invested groups; institutionalization interrogates the types and kinds of 
texts that are produced to cement the cultural object ? how they are meant to maintain 
and enhance the object?s validity, longevity and status as a tradition and a living practice; 
and the implementation phase assesses the efficacy, impacts, and consequences of texts 
and institutions. 
 
                                                
4
 See Chapter One for my definition of ?institution.? 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 326 
 
Collective Definition of Taonga P oro  
In this section I parse Taonga
5
 P oro as the collective definition of a ?new tradition.? 
The term ?taonga p oro? has morphed from a M ori language phrase, simply descriptive 
of M ori musical instruments held in museums, to a proper noun indicating ?M ori 
Traditional Instruments and Music? as objects, praxis, and as a contemporary revival of a 
cultural idiom with pre-European roots. This movement was initiated by a small number 
of individuals and gathered momentum during the 1980s and 1990s when these indivi-
duals came together and synergistically combined their various talents and strengths ? in 
instrument building, music performance, language and community outreach, and organi-
zing. During this period, they employed research techniques and evolving methods of 
presentation and performance that involved widening publics in the process of lifting 
Taonga P oro to the status of a ?new tradition.? This new tradition is currently being 
explored and collectively defined by M ori and other groups. As a result, Taonga P oro 
has become more visible and subject to increasingly diverse treatments in an expanding 
discursive environment. 
                                                
5
 Although I have recast Blumer?s notion of collective definition away from a focus on social problems per 
se, problems remain embedded in the concept of ?taonga? as it is situated in political and cultural discourse 
in New Zealand. The problematic nature of the term stems from its use in Article Two of the M ori version 
of the Treaty of Waitangi (see Chapter Two) guaranteeing that M ori people will have ?full control (tino 
rangatiratanga) over their lands and estates and all of their treasures (ratou taonga katoa).? The official 
English version renders this as ?exclusive and undisturbed possession of their lands and estates, forests, 
fisheries and other properties.? The conflation of the concepts of ?property? and ?taonga,? and ?exclusive 
and undisturbed possession? and ?tino rangatiratanga? in the implementation of the Treaty as social policy 
represents an affective disjunction at the root of constructions of New Zealand national identity, 
particularly as it impacts policy. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 327 
 
Emergence 
In its emergent phase, society comes to recognize the existence of ?Ng  Taonga P oro? 
as a named cultural object. The common usage of the term taonga ? ?treasure? ? is 
based on its usage in the Treaty of Waitangi and it is the affective equivalent to 
?heritage? ? it implies a (moral if not judicial) right of cultural ownership and belonging 
and the sense that the cultural object is worthy of repatriation. The literal translation of 
the term taonga p oro as ?sounding treasures? gives a clue to some basic preconditions 
necessary for historical ng  taonga p oro to achieve the status of a contemporary cultural 
object: they must be capable of affective investment ? of being treasured ? by M ori, 
and they must be sounded.  
The emergence of Taonga P oro is the result of a confluence of events: reproduction of 
the instruments outside of the museum ? affording access by ?ordinary? people and by 
so doing, enhancing the potential for reclamation and repatriation ? and re-implemen-
tation of the instruments as sound or music makers (as opposed to sculptures) so they 
may be made to ?come alive? by being played. Prior to the moment when these con-
ditions are fulfilled, the instruments are ?treasures? only in a fettered, Western anglo-
phone conception ? reified, frozen in time, to be seen in glass cases and admired for 
their antiquity and ornate carving (whakairo) but not to be touched or played.  
Pakehas Brian Flintoff and Richard Nunns were putatively the first to undertake the 
construction of replicas of the instruments held in museums. But in order for the replicas 
to acquire taonga status, they must be treasured by M ori, and Hirini Melbourne?s partici-
pation with Nunns and Flintoff in the fledgling movement arguably added the essential 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 328 
 
ingredient of M ori involvement ? the minimum requirement for the new artifacts and 
(re-) constructed playing techniques to become taonga.  
Thus the potential for construction of Taonga P oro as a ?legitimate? cultural object is 
established. In the next section I examine how the potential for legitimation is actualized.  
Legitimation  
In the legitimation phase, the cultural object ?must acquire social endorsement if it is to 
be taken seriously and move forward in its career. It must acquire a necessary degree of 
respectability which entitles it to consideration in the recognized arenas of public 
discussion.?
6
  
Issues of legitimacy and affirmation (and hence authenticity) are bound together in 
Taonga P oro. As they moved about the country conducting research on maraes around 
New Zealand, Melbourne and Nunns gathered information about the instruments. They 
also accumulated a reservoir of good will among various M ori hapu, and in the process 
they procured an affective investment in their enterprise. As they traveled, they showed 
instruments, played them, and told the accumulated stories they had gathered. They 
invited responses by local people to add to or comment upon stories from other locales, 
or simply to respond to the sounds of the instruments. They avoided critical judgments of 
the stories they received, and by facilitating the exchange and comparison of stories 
across geographic or tribal frames of reference, they effectively established a dialogue 
between different tribal groups. As they communicated stories with diverse origins ? 
                                                
6
 Blumer 1971: 301. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 329 
 
various names for the same or similar instruments, stories of how they were used, et 
cetera ? they effectively made themselves disappear, so that the accumulated stories, the 
lore, took on a life of its own based on the independent truth of their encounters and 
performances in the third person: ?this is what they said,? and ?what they said matters.? 
So in a reflexive
7
 motion, the lore that constitutes Taonga P oro is both affirmed by and 
affirmative of the groups who contributed to the repertoire of names, stories, and sounds.  
In order to ?advance its career? institutionally, the Taonga P oro revival movement must 
establish its legitimacy on a national stage.  
Mobilization 
Articulations between insider and outsider groups are the central feature of the mobiliza-
tion phase. In this phase, Taonga P oro achieves recognition outside the community of its 
putative origin and becomes a symbol that may be used to represent some aspect or 
aspects of the original community by both insiders and outsiders, and as such it becomes 
a mechanism for investment by insiders and outsiders ? it becomes an object of dis-
cussion between various interested parties both inside and outside of the local community 
where it originally emerged. In this phase alliances are formed and advocates are 
recruited.  
An overlap between emergence, legitimation, and mobilization is evident in the fact that 
the ?earlier? phases of the collective definition of Taonga P oro already contain diverse 
                                                
7
 An embedded recursive/reflexive intensification is also implicit in the recasting of ?What they said? as 
?What you said? in subsequent performances and encounters. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 330 
 
cultural elements. The originators of the emergent movement were both M ori and Pake-
ha and ?M ori musical instruments? as a class of cultural objects achieved a degree of 
cross-cultural legitimation by virtue of being displayed in Western museums.  
Original ?knowledge? of taonga p oro (and M oritanga in general) is local, and the 
mobilization phase of Taonga P oro constitutes a movement toward generalization. The 
Taonga P oro movement is characterized from its inception by being multi-layered and 
multi-voiced and it constructs culture and identity in more than one world. The proble-
matic aspect of this narrative is the tendency to emphasize a simplistic M ori-Pakeha 
binary to the exclusion of less obvious articulations.  
An emphasis on the articulation between M ori and Pakeha ? i.e., simply casting 
?M ori? as ?the? essential insiders ? glosses over a fundamental aspect of the mobili-
zation of Taonga P oro. The fact and means of the delivery of taonga p oro into the 
hands of ?the people? is the single most significant moment for its mobilization. As 
researchers carry instruments and stories from one local tribal group to another, they 
construct a pantribal M ori identity for the cultural object, whereby aggregate lore 
becomes a common heritage ? and where all of the participant tribal groups may lay 
some claim to ?ownership.? The inclusion of non-local, urban M ori in the Taonga P oro 
movement is also easily glossed. 
I have shown that Taonga P oro has been used to inculcate aspects of traditional M ori 
identities and skills, including language. While the Taonga P oro movement derives 
legitimation from an association with the M ori renaissance movement and particularly 
M ori language revival, it is important to note that the affinity between M ori language 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 331 
 
and Taonga P oro is properly understood as part of the mobilization phase of both 
movements ? this mobilization is centered on articulation between urban (non-tradition-
al/contemporary) and rural (traditional/local) M ori.  
The renaissance movement in general is a lively discourse on recovery and revival of 
?lost? or endangered cultural practices. M oritanga is most alive on traditional marae, but 
it is in urban circumstances that the culture is most in danger ? the fear of culture loss in 
urban circumstances is an affective engine driving the renaissance. M ori language, Te 
Reo M ori, is considered to be the keystone of the renaissance, and waiata, song ? and 
by association music in all its forms ? is a particularly powerful tool for inculcating a 
robust version of M ori language and culture. The Taonga P oro movement derives 
power from a generic association with waiata. 
The korero, the narrative presentation of the instruments as a lost tradition, places them 
solidly within a M ori worldview and simultaneously stirs memories and stokes hopes 
and imaginings of a contemporary world where ancient practices and beliefs are restored. 
The fact that this korero takes place in both English and M ori effectively bridges 
between rural and urban, traditional, and non-traditional M ori as it develops concepts in 
both languages and in process promotes M ori language skills.   
In many ways the mobilization of the orally based cultural object is its most dynamic 
phase ? it corresponds to the moment of actualization one experiences in the production 
of a play onstage, for instance. The institutional phase of collective definition ? the 
production of texts that attempt to represent the dynamism of the cultural object in a more 
stable form ? is in some ways the detritus of the mobilization phase. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 332 
 
Institutionalization ? Implementation Cycle 
I have already noted that ng  taonga p oro (the instruments) are legitimated to some 
extent by their presence in New Zealand?s museums. Both M ori and Pakeha originators 
of the movement speak of having been profoundly affected by encounters with the 
instruments in museums. These institutionally bound instruments in a sense seeded the 
emergent phase of the Taonga P oro movement, revealing an embedded recursive cycle.  
In the institutional or policy formation phase, the cultural object inspires a set of texts that 
attempt to fix its meanings and usage in official or quasi-official contexts ? education, 
museum display or performance, officially sanctioned festivals and performances, et 
cetera. The implementation phase assesses the efficacy, impacts, and consequences of 
texts and institutions ? whether or not they succeed in maintaining and enhancing the 
Taonga P oro movement?s validity, longevity, and status as a tradition and a living 
practice. 
Currently, the Taonga P oro movement is in early stages of an institutionalization-im-
plementation cycle as participants experiment with modes and methods of presentation 
and performance. Some aspects of the presentation and performance of Taonga P oro 
have achieved a degree of ?institutional? consistency ? particularly in demonstrations 
and workshops where the laying out of instruments and the content and style of delivery 
of a (relatively) standardized narrative (korero) about them is apparent. Standardization is 
in part attributable to the production of texts ? books, recordings, and audiovisual 
media, et cetera ? by a relatively small number of originators who have developed a set 
of methods, techniques and descriptions in collaboration with one another. While the 
manner of presentation of ng  taonga p oro in workshops and demonstrations, and even 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 333 
 
playing techniques of the instruments, have become normalized to an extent, how the 
instruments are to be used in contemporary music making is less determined and more 
tentative.  
For example, the Taonga P oro competition at the Rotorua Competition Society?s 2001 
Unison Concerto Competition (where Horomona Horo first met Richard Nunns and 
Hirini Melbourne) has since been discontinued because of insufficient numbers of contes-
tants and questions about competition as a method for extending the career of Taonga 
P oro.
8
  
In the institutional phase, Taonga P oro continues to benefit from a synergistic relation-
ship with the M ori language recovery movement, which is seen as the keystone for 
M ori cultural revitalization and preservation. Many, if not most, of the texts that feature 
Taonga P oro and associated narratives in formal or official settings have language 
instruction or inculcation as their purpose. Ng  taonga p oro are also becoming an 
increasingly common ritual feature of formal occasions like powhiri, openings, and dedi-
cations of buildings and facilities. Ng  taonga p oro also appear in the written repertoire 
of New Zealand?s European classical music tradition as well as in popular music and 
media which speak to and for various groups.  I will return to these repertoires in a later 
section. 
                                                
8
 ?It was felt important for Rotorua to have such a section [in the Unison Concerto Competition], and, at the 
time, there seemed to be a resurgence in learning about the instruments, teaching them, and playing them. 
Having said that, it has always been difficult to get enough students to play in the competition, and, last 
year, we came to the realization that maybe a competition isn?t the best way of keeping the Taonga Puoro 
alive.? Alison Perrin (Donations Assessor, Rotorua Energy Charitable Trust), email communication, 
12/12/2007. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 334 
 
The implementation phase queries the situated efficacy of Taonga P oro as it emerges 
and is represented and ratified in institutions, and as this institutionalization impacts 
diverse stakeholders. For example, formal institutional denomination and attribution 
impacts the potential for local tribal groups to retain individual identities. Consequently, 
it affects the ability of groups to articulate with the aggregate (this is particularly the case 
for smaller tribes and hapu) without being subsumed. The question is whether individual 
instruments will be formally presented as being called by different names by different 
peoples. This potential may be realized (or not) in both mobilization and institutional 
phases of collective definition. But an important consideration for this discussion is 
whose institutions will represent and ratify the tradition?  
In process of parsing the emergent (i.e., emergence, legitimation, and mobilization) 
phases of the collective definition of Taonga P oro, I have identified both intra- and 
inter-ethnic articulations: in addition to the inter-ethnic bicultural (M ori-Pakeha) articu-
lation, intra-ethnic M ori articulations include pantribal (local-national), local-local, and 
rural-urban articulations. Each articulation consists of intersections ? and potential con-
flicts of interest ? between situated sets of agendas and affective dispositions, which are 
assessed in the implementation phase.  
I will map these social spaces in the following sections. 
Mapping Aotearoa/New Zealand 
I propose mapping cultural and ethnic domains in Aotearoa/New Zealand by reposi-
tioning the central axes so that the resulting transformations reflect the viewpoints and 
orientations of those groups, particularly as observed in musical-cultural performance. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 335 
 
Starting with the bicultural binary framework of New Zealand/Aotearoa, I begin by 
mapping the national domain from dual perspectives of M ori and the Crown. As I have 
noted in my discussion of national identity, the Crown perspective carries with it a certain 
presumption of judicial impartiality, if not objectivity. However, it is historically clear
9
 
that the Crown perspective is not ?colorless? and is in fact closely associated with and 
tends to privilege a Euro-British orientation. Similarly, the mapping of sub-domains other 
than M ori or Euro-British requires (affectively) locating them from multiple perspec-
tives. 
In the next sections, I explore some models for mapping cultural and ethnic domains in 
New Zealand. I begin by examining the affective domain and then proceed to elaborate 
on the concept of social space. 
The Affective Domain 
Grossberg uses the term ?affect? to refer to ?a certain range of effects which can be 
described in terms of intensities. ?[A] range of effects for which intensity is the primary 
characteristic. These are things like emotions and passions and investments.?
10
 The 
essence of the affective dimension is personal investment formed by ?what matters? to a 
person or group and the intensity of their relationship to the object of their affection (to 
                                                
9
 I have already established (Chapter Two) that the notion that New Zealand would become a ?better 
Britain? underlies immigration policies from colonial times until the latter half of the 20th century and that 
the imagining of a British nation is closely associated with the ?White Dominions? that form the original 
basis of the British Commonwealth. 
10
 Grossberg interviewed in Wilson-Brown 1995. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 336 
 
coin a phrase) ? the depth of their engagement, disengagement, or indifference, their 
passion or their antipathy.  
Affect as ?investment? taken together with concepts of social capital form a basis for a 
processual model of the ?creation of the new,? which I see as a kind of effective dividend 
returned on an (affective) investment of social capital. This kind of ?investment? is 
?democratic? (in my usage) by definition ? while it is impacted by external factors, such 
an investment/engagement, it reflects internal motivation and volition. 
Grossberg suggests that affect can be organized and mapped:  
If ideology is a kind of map of meaning and we struggle over ideologies, in the sense of 
mapping the world according to meaning, why couldn?t we struggle over affect in terms 
of the maps of the ways we relate to the world emotionally, passionately, in terms of what 
we can and cannot invest in, what can and cannot matter?
11
  
 
He goes on to say that affect is not only an essential aspect of popular culture, but also 
that it has been common for people to use pop culture (and especially music) to maintain, 
reinforce, or modify their affect:  
[Popular culture] was not only about the meanings it offered but the ways in which 
people invested in it and the world and about the ways in which [popular culture] affected 
their moods and emotions.
12
  
 
Implicit in this idea that people use music to affect mood is the notion that music may be 
used to manage affect. Affective engagement is the essence of self-investment ? it 
implies a willing commitment (or surrender) to concepts, ways of life, and things that 
                                                
11
 Ibid. 
12
 Ibid. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 337 
 
matter. And music?s power, to create, manage, maintain, and nourish affect on an indivi-
dual basis also makes music potentially an effective tool for building and maintaining 
institutions, by inviting investment in them. As a result, music is a particularly appro-
priate indicator for parsing the impact and longevity of the institutions that employ it, as 
well as assessing the ways that individuals engage with institutions. Similarly, it is useful 
for parsing the interface between intersecting institutions (and the ?peoples? they 
represent). 
This is particularly true in the case of ?positive? affect where there is an emphasis on 
volition and a voluntary investment. It should be noted however that there is a comple-
mentary ?negative affect,? the state of disaffection or disengagement, concomitant with a 
submissive posture, and more closely associated with coercion than volition. Music?s 
forte, as it were, is in the management of positive affect, and even in less democratic, 
more coercive states, it is better used to seduce or to cajole, to invite engagement, than to 
impose an external order. In the following sections I parse music, affect, and institutions 
as they relate to my research. 
In the next section I elaborate on a concept of social space. 
Social ?Space? 
In order to map the musical and performative processes and relations that contribute to 
what I have called ?persistence of identity,? it is necessary to develop a spatial metaphor 
that is able to accommodate a set of cultural objects that not only are not visible or 
tangible to the same set of senses that we normally associate with graphic renderings of 
geophysical features, but even more importantly, may be difficult to grasp across cultural 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 338 
 
orientations. It is my intent to render these objects in a graphical/relational realm in order 
to expose them and make them more comprehensible. 
I have already referred to one such useful metaphor in Appadurai?s various ?-scapes? ? 
financial, informational, political, ethnic, et cetera. Each of these domains has a set of 
inherent perspectives, values, and renderings that enable various variable features to be 
located in relation to one another. My task is to extend the number and kind of domains 
to include aspects of cultural embeddedness, expression, endeavor, and interpretation, 
particularly as they are relevant to musical construction and maintenance of group 
identities in New Zealand. 
Bourdieu says,  
The social world can be represented as a space (with several dimensions) constructed on 
the basis of principles of differentiation or distribution constituted by the set of properties 
active within the social universe in question, i.e., capable of conferring strength, power 
within that universe, on their holder. Agents and groups of agents are thus defined by 
their relative positions within that space. An essential feature of this social space is that 
its properties are active ? they constitute a ?field of forces? which may be construed as a 
?set of objective power relations that impose themselves on all who enter the field.? 
Furthermore, by definition these objective power relations are ?irreducible to the inten-
tions of the individual agents or even to direct interactions among the agents.?
13
  
 
Bourdieu?s ?field of forces? refers to what I have described as ?situatedness? ? it 
constitutes a kind of ?objective reality? insofar as it exists for individual agents as an 
external shaping force. This force that may be internalized by them ? indeed by 
definition, it must be in some way internalized by significant numbers of individuals in 
the group to act as a palpable force ? but these individuals do not directly impact on the 
                                                
13
 Bourdieu 1985: 723-24. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 339 
 
field as individuals. Individuals do have some disposition with relation to this force, 
however. And I see their collaborative affective engagement with the social field as fuel 
? the force that constructs, deconstructs, and shapes it.    
Bourdieu describes the social field as a multi-dimensional space where ?every actual 
position can be defined in terms of a multi-dimensional system of co-ordinates.?
14
 He 
renders the first dimension of this space in terms of volume of capital possessed by 
agents. The second dimension is determined by the composition and distribution of that 
capital vis ? vis ?the relative weight of the different kinds of assets within their total 
assets.? In the context of this dissertation, the ?relative weight? of assets can be rendered 
in the affective domain as the ?relative weight attached to assets? ? in other words 
people?s choice of assets and their depth of engagement with those assets. Hence the 
concept of taonga ? i.e., what is treasured ? becomes central. 
Bourdieu develops a set of theoretical classes of agents grouped according to similarity of 
conditions and conditioning. These classes are mapped according to ?compatibilities and 
incompatibilities, proximities and distances.?
15
 Bourdieu is at pains to point out that these 
classes are not ?real? groups, but rather are analytic categories that may be separated out 
in social space. However, Bourdieu holds that these classes ?explain the probability of 
individuals constituting themselves as practical groups.?
16
 Therefore comparisons 
                                                
14
 Ibid.: 724. 
15
 Ibid.: 725. 
16
 Ibid.: 725. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 340 
 
between Bourdieu?s classes are in some sense predictive of whether groups will come 
together (or not) in confluence, a requisite condition for the production of new identities 
and a major theme of this dissertation.  
For Bourdieu, proximity in social space, particularly as regards capital distribution, is 
also an important attribute that predicts stability and hence persistence:  
Groupings grounded in the structure of the space constructed in terms of capital 
distribution are more likely to be stable and durable, while other forms of grouping are 
always threatened by the splits and oppositions linked to distances in social space. To 
speak of a social space means that one cannot group just anyone with anyone while 
ignoring the fundamental differences, particularly economic and cultural ones. But this 
never entirely excludes the possibility of organizing agents in accordance with other 
principles of division ? ethnic or national ones, for example ? though it has to be 
remembered that these are generally linked to fundamental principles, with ethnic groups 
themselves being at least roughly hierarchized in the social space?.
17
  
 
It is important to bear in mind that proximity in social space may be achieved by the 
construction of institutions that span physical distance by promoting common affective 
investments and shared mechanisms for the accumulation of cultural capital.  
Bourdieu coins the term ?habitus? to describe the social space as occupied by its 
denizens. He defines habitus as ?a system of durable and transposable dispositions [sic] 
(schemes of perception, appreciation, and action), produced by particular social environ-
ments, which functions as the principle of the generation and structuring of practices and 
representations.?
18
 Fiske says ?habitus? refers to a ?habitat, the habitants and the pro-
                                                
17
 Ibid.: 726. 
18
 Ibid.: 786. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 341 
 
cesses of inhabiting it, and the habituated ways of thinking that go with it.?
19
 Bourdieu 
uses this model to map social space and locate various actor?s tastes and dispositions 
relative to it.
20
 For my purposes, the habitus represents the field for the encounters 
described in Chapters Three through Five, based on the situations and attitudes described 
in Chapter Two. 
In the next section, I examine how this model may be modified to apply to the New 
Zealand case. 
Fiske/Bourdieu Model 
Fiske adapts Bourdieu?s model in order to map a ?cultural economy of fandom.? In 
Fiske?s rendering of Bourdieu?s model for mapping cultural tastes onto economic 
status,
21
 total (i.e., economic and cultural) capital is mapped along the y-axis, with greater 
capital above the origin and lesser below. The ?positive? dimension of social space 
measured along the y-axis represents power as agency based on cumulative cultural and 
economic capital. The x-axis is conceptualized as a typological continuum. Type of 
capital ? economic or cultural ? is mapped along the x-axis with those having greater 
?cultural? capital ? people like artists, musicians and writers whose prestige or cultural 
worth is not necessarily based on monetary wealth or clout in the marketplace ? 
distributed to the left of the origin and those with greater economic capital ? i.e., 
                                                
19
 Fiske 1992: 32. 
20
 See Bourdieu 1984. 
21
 Fiske 1992: 31. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 342 
 
business people and manufacturers ? to the right. The top center of the graph is occupied 
by those who have a combination of economic and cultural clout ? this area is 
dominated by the professional classes whose capital is largely derived from a situated 
ability to derive economic and cultural benefit from advanced (or prestigious) education 
or other influential institutions. These professionals derive leverage from being both 
institutionally validated and situated. The lower center of the graph consists of groups 
who (presumably) lack either economic or effective cultural means.  
Bourdieu?s map is a relatively flat view of French, particularly Parisian culture, cast as a 
single, monocultural space. Fiske?s adaptation, a simplified, and hence less specific, 
subset of Bourdieu?s model stands as an apt description of the social milieu inhabited by 
New Zealand?s Euro-British majority, who historically have been affectively and 
materially situated (and invested) within a Western political, economic, and educational 
infrastructure.  
Unmodified, the model is not well suited for representing other groups because of its 
emphasis on a Western view of economics and class as the principal dimensions of social 
discrimination. This model privileges a view of ?wealth? as an accumulation of goods
22
 
? a financescape that at best treats ?economic and cultural factors? as being coequal, or 
more often subordinates culture to economics. The result is a minimization of the impor-
tance of other forms of cultural capital, whose nature varies from group to group and is 
generally a major determinant of cultural and ethnic identity, in favor of a standardized 
                                                
22
 In M ori the term ?wealth? renders as rangatiratanga, which means a quality or state of esteem ? 
chiefliness. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 343 
 
notion of capital that erases cultural and ethnic distinctions by pegging value and values 
to flows of money.  
Rendering social space as experienced by other groups ? particularly those who have 
historically been marginalized in terms of access and investment in mainstream 
institutions ? requires acknowledgement of other types of cultural capital and affective 
investment. Indeed, cultural economies based on orality and related cultural performances 
like music are of particular importance in New Zealand. Fiske suggests that Bourdieu?s 
model be expanded to include other axes, including race, gender, and age, noting that 
Bourdieu?s model fails ?to accord the culture of the subordinate the same sophisticated 
analysis as that of the dominant.?
23
  
?Subordinate? groups tend to develop institutions of their own, and for those groups the 
development of cultural capital may occur within and with reference to those institutions 
? the institutions are an important part of the social space. Fiske says that fan orga-
nizations as subordinate social formations ?begin to reproduce equivalents of the formal 
institutions of official culture.? He suggests modifying Bourdieu?s model to include 
??popular cultural capital? produced by subordinate social formations which can serve, in 
the subordinate, similar functions to those of official cultural capital in the dominant 
context?
24
 Such nascent cultural institutions constitute a space where new performances 
may be produced and accommodated. Recognition of, and emphasis on alternative insti-
                                                
23
 Fiske 1992: 32. 
24
 Ibid.: 33. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 344 
 
tutions provides a different perspective on social space. And this recognition, when it 
occurs in the general population, may either signal or result in convergence of main-
stream and alternative institutions.  
Bourdieu?s model is not necessarily antithetical to a M ori perspective, but it requires an 
affective transformation based on recognizing a broader range of cultural investments in 
order to more adequately rationalize an ebb and flow of cultural exchange, construction 
and invention.  
These maps can be taken as ?snapshots? of social space over time that may be used to 
chart an ebb and flow of the emergence of new practices and new institutions that reflect 
shifts in values, orientation, and type and kind of affective investment. It is my thesis that 
affective investment, institutionally maintained over time, is a strong determinant of 
cultural persistence. By this measure, some groups that have been labeled ?subordinate,? 
and treated as ?primitive? or inferior, show themselves to be remarkably resilient. 
Institutional Ilk: Types, Kinds, ?-Scapes? and ?Subordinate? Institutions 
Bourdieu?s notion that ?discrimination of taste? maps onto status (vis ? vis amount and 
distribution of cultural and economic capital) is based on the existence of quasi-
ubiquitous institutional reinforcement and inculcation of particular sets of standards, 
attitudes, and inclinations. 
In order to map the subaltern, as it were, it is necessary to acknowledge ?subordinate? 
institutions, referenced from ?other? standpoints that by definition may differ substan-
tially from some putative normative view. The ways in which constituents of such 
?local,? (in the sense that they are in proximate social space) institutions affectively 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 345 
 
engage with and are invested in their institutions may also differ in type and kind from 
those of the ?dominant.? And, as in the dominant, these institutions afford people (local) 
leverage and esteem ? mana ? and even these institutions are, at least potentially, a 
fundamental mechanism for the acquisition of capital, both cultural and economic. 
Views from Below ? Transformations of the Fiske/Bourdieu Model 
In Discrimination: a Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, Bourdieu?s examines 
value judgments of agents whom he positions on a graph of ?socially ranked geographic 
space.?
25
 Bourdieu privileges the upper half of the graph, so that the activities and institu-
tions of the dominant culture are rendered in greater detail. Fiske suggests transforming 
Bourdieu?s map of social space so that activity seen as occurring at the bottom half of the 
graph is privileged ? the perspective is shifted from that of the ?dominant? culture to 
that of the subordinate. This may be characterized as a ?view from below.?  
Mapping M ori: Institutions, Mana, and Affect 
M ori cultural economy is closely tied to a local (and contemporary) concept of mana.
26
 
This is not surprising in a culture where wealth equates most closely to rangatiratanga 
(?chiefliness? ? the quality of a superior person). Adjectivally ?mana? means to be 
                                                
25
 Bourdieu 1985: 124. 
26
 In general anthropological discourse, mana has historically been associated with magic and the 
supernatural and sometimes discussed as being precursor of religion (see Mauss 1950). It is not my purpose 
here to engage with this historic discussion. Contemporarily, and for the purposes of this discussion, mana 
may be treated as a reflexive construction of authority where, as I have indicated earlier, mana represents a 
synthesis of personal charisma, rhetorical force, and ?institutional? (in Bourdieu?s sense) authority that is 
acquired through a combination of these mechanisms and, particularly in the case of M ori, democratic 
affective investment by people. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 346 
 
?vested with effective authority.?
27
 In contemporary M ori culture, the nature of this 
vestment is affective and democratic. 
Bourdieu propounds a notion of the institution as a synthesis of durability and vested 
authority, which in turn constructs the efficacy of performative utterances. In the 
introduction to Language and Symbolic Power, editor John Thompson says that, in 
Bourdieu?s usage:  
The efficacy of performative utterances is inseparable from the existence of an institution 
which defines the conditions (such as the place, the time, the agent) that must be fulfilled 
in order for the utterance to be effective. ?An institution is not necessarily a particular 
organization ? this or that family or factory, for instance ? but is a relatively durable 
set of social relations which endows individuals with power, status and resources of 
various kinds. It is the authority to carry out the act which his or her utterance claims to 
perform.
28
 
 
Chapter Three of this dissertation shows how mana, of a person or an institution, may be 
relative to affective investment by people, and how it is imbued in a M ori context. When 
groups of people at Ratana stand to sing waiata in support of a speaker, they both reflect 
and construct the mana of the speaker ? by who his or her supporters are, their numbers 
and attitude, and the content and manner of their singing. In this case, people?s 
involvement and the mechanism of vestment is visibly democratic and the singers are 
symbolic of broad support for the speaker?s word: by standing, people invest themselves 
in the speaker (and his words), and the speaker is ratified in the process.   
                                                
27
 Dictionary of the M ori Language, Seventh Edition, H.W. Williams. 
28
 Thompson in Bourdieu 1991: 8. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 347 
 
So in the M ori context, and at Ratana in particular, the democratic process of investment 
is vividly represented and symbolized by the use of music. In the next section I explore a 
?durable set of social relations? that constitute an institutional underpinning for our map 
of M ori social space. 
Persisting M ori Institutions 
In Chapter Three, Ruia Aperahama spoke of the ?old M ori economy? as being based on 
a person?s control of land, their ?birth? (vis ? vis family connections and genealogy), 
whakapapa (i.e., their knowledge of their genealogy and ability to perform it) and the 
extensiveness of their repertoire of incantations. In the next section I discuss 
contemporary iterations of these elements of the ?old? economy at Ratana. I begin by 
casting the concept of ?control? in the current usage of M ori terms. 
Mana Whenua, Mana Motuhake 
 M ori ?control?
29
 of Ratana Pa, the village, is a sign of persistence of aspects of the ?old 
economy.? The esteem or pride of self-worth ? the value that comes with strong asso-
ciation with and connection to an area or piece of land is expressed in M ori as ?mana 
whenua.? The existence of the village as a place owned and occupied by M ori is partial 
testimony to ?control,? at least in the Western sense of ownership of property. But the 
expression mana whenua better captures a sense of affective investment: the ?value? I 
speak of is not abstract, but rather is reflexive in the sense that the value of the land is 
                                                
29
 The English term ?dominion? may better express the affective value of ?control.?  
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 348 
 
directly tied to the value of the person, and hence their personal, affective investment in 
the land.  
Similarly the M ori term mana motuhake
30
 is usually translated as ?self-determination.? 
A more apt translation would be ?independent assessment and determination of both 
value and authority.? The affective dimension of mana motuhake ? which includes a 
sense of governance ?of M ori, by and for M ori,? as an expression of cultural 
determination that brooks no capitulation to a set of externally defined mores ? is visibly 
reinforced at Ratana by the authority of the katipa. It is particularly interesting to note 
that the katipa do not ?police? by virtue of superior force, but their ?power? ? which is 
not imposed, but is accepted ? is derived from the institutional fabric of Ratana, which 
is based in turn on affective (democratic) investment by the people themselves. 
Whakapapa 
Aperahama himself embodies ?birth,? genealogy, and repertoire, all of which are readily 
perceptible in his speech, in M ori and English, and his performance, as an orator and as 
a musician. Similarly the young cleric, Turama Hawira, was able to displace the Gover-
nor General by virtue of his performance, mastery of repertoire, and whaikorero. His 
?birth? was also implicitly on display as a function of his mastery of language and 
repertoire as well as his positioning in the Governor General?s party ? how did he come 
to translate for the Governor General? And how did he come by his mastery? Both of 
                                                
30
 Mana Motuhake is also the name of a M ori political party which was started in 1976 by Matiu Rata, a 
former minister of M ori Affairs in the Labour Government. Mana Motuhake was formed because Rata 
and others felt that Labour had not adequately addressed M ori issues. Mana Mothuhake was disbanded in 
2005 and most of its members moved to the new M ori Party, which was formed in 2004. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 349 
 
these obvious questions speak to connections. Aperahama was able to deduce aspects of 
Hawira?s identity and his lineage based on the content of the speeches and on Hawira?s 
performance: the level of Hawira?s mastery of language and whaikorero was likely have 
begun in childhood. And, because mastery of cultural repertoires is the functional essence 
of being ?high-born,? one would impute to him the status of an impressive lineage.  
It is important to understand that whakapapa is a defining institution, some would say the 
defining institution, for M ori. The concept of lineage and value ? what constitutes 
?high-birth? in this discussion ? relies on an understanding of whakapapa as a relational 
database, and the ability to perform, to show or demonstrate, one?s self in relation to that 
database. That is to say that, because whakapapa embraces more than human genealogy, 
but instead relates an individual to every aspect of natural and supernatural worlds, the 
performative ability to show one?s self in the best or most appropriate light in a given 
context is a very effective form of constructive discourse. It represents a mindset ? a 
way of thinking that is both remarkably flexible and resilient insofar as it allows an adept 
individual to cast him- or herself in terms of the resources at hand without losing a sense 
of identity. Indeed this is basis of Ratana?s concept of ?imitation and innovation? as well 
as Aperahma?s narrative rendering of it. 
I will return to this notion later in my discussion of effective discourses. 
M ori-Pakeha Articulations: Mapping the Intersections 
There are several instances of intersecting and overlapping cultural referents in this 
dissertation. Indeed, every situation where people from different cultural orientations 
encounter and engage with one another can be said to be an articulation between cultures.  
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 350 
 
There are elements ? moments of affective engagement on some level ? in each such 
intercultural encounter that enable or facilitate interaction ? that in a sense ?lubricate? 
the interaction or articulation between different cultural ?spaces.? Among these 
?lubricants? I number trust, forbearance, acceptance, respect, fascination, enthusiasm, 
and even disaffection or neutral affect, to the extent that some things ?don?t matter? in 
some contexts and therefore may be ignored. Some common terms that embody these 
elements are ?hospitality? and ?grace.? The common thread among these elements is that 
they make space ? they create a moment when there is the potential for people with 
different understandings of the world to mutually construct a narrative that enables them 
to cohabit. Similarly, there are disaffective elements ? those with a negative affect ? 
that may operate as a barrier or impediment to intercultural interaction. These may 
include hate, disdain, arrogance, and other such affects that generally tend to ignore, 
dismiss, or denigrate the other. There are also terms like ?surrender? that may signify 
either a positive affect (when used to mean a voluntary act of acceptance or embrace) or a 
negative one (when used to mean ?capitulation? by force), according to context. 
 In the next section, I apply these terms to interactions between M ori and Pakeha at 
Ratana Pa. 
Ratana Pa 
At Ratana, when Pakeha dignitaries come on to the marae, relatively ignorant of the 
protocols of the occasion but willing to accept them, they exhibit trust, even as their hosts 
exhibit forbearance. These elements can be witnessed in the encounter between the 
Governor General, Dame Sylvia Cartwright, the young cleric, Turama Hawira, and the 
assemblage at Ratana.  
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 351 
 
In this encounter, Dame Sylvia ? although unversed in whaikorero and the protocols of 
the marae and despite her high station ? exhibited trust (and respect) by walking onto 
unfamiliar territory in an unfamiliar situation and essentially surrendering herself to a set 
of unknown protocols. The young cleric, Hawira, a cultural adept, translated for her ? 
whispering in her ear as Aperahama delivered a greeting to her ? and then rose to speak. 
But the content of his speech was not for her in any direct sense ? instead he spoke for 
his people and himself.  
Had his speech been prosaic English, it would have been rude for such a young man to 
preempt a high personage and insert himself ahead of her. But the music of the speech 
and the poetry of the performance, particularly in the ritual context of the powhiri, 
created a different set of meanings for M ori and Pakeha alike. The Governor General 
understood no M ori, but the notion that she was in a performative circumstance ? one 
in which she was not capable of performing adequately on her own behalf ? was well 
understood to her (and every single person enveloped in the pomp of the circumstance of 
that moment). For the Governor General, Hawira?s performance was a unit ? a meme ? 
with a functional meaning as a placeholder in a prescribed ceremony. For Hawira, and 
those in the assemblage who understood M ori, the performance broke down into smaller 
units of meaning, where we heard of Hawira and his tribe, their place in the land, their 
history and of the preservation of M ori culture as embodied in Hawira and his 
supporters.  
In this interaction, the Governor General was not disrespected ? in fact not only was her 
mana intact, it was enhanced when she was later invited to speak from the tangata 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 352 
 
whenua side. At the same time Hawira?s mana was augmented on the basis of his 
performance. When she did speak, Dame Sylvia?s valiant attempt at speaking in M ori, 
was another reciprocal display that affectively lubricated the interaction by displaying her 
commitment to the occasion ? it signified that she was engaged and willing to become 
M ori, or normal in the situation. Her willingness would be taken as acknowledgment if 
not an embrace of mana whenua and mana motuhake. 
In the next section, I examine interactions between M ori and Pakeha in the Taonga 
P oro Movement. 
Taonga P oro 
The (re)construction of M ori musical instruments as a cultural object is a site where 
cultures articulate. There are articulations between M ori and Pakeha, and also between 
urban and traditional-rural M ori subcultures. Indeed ng  taonga p oro actually represent 
a material site where cultures, and subcultures, both abut and intersect. They abut in the 
sense that in some ways there is not a reflexive flow between cultures ? that is to say 
that the cultural object has different and non-complementary or incommensurate sym-
bolic meanings for the parties. They intersect in the sense that there are some shared or 
overlapping cultural interpretations. In the following section, I parse these articulations 
by constructing a set of metanarratives that represent my interpretation of what members 
of these groups (or factions) said to me in interviews. 
Telling Taonga P oro: Articulating Voices 
In Chapter Four, various narratives and metanarratives emerge from the telling and 
retelling of stories of ng  taonga p oro (the instruments) and Taonga P oro (the move-
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 353 
 
ment). These narratives, told in different voices and from different viewpoints, represent 
articulations between cultures, and intersecting and abutting social spaces may be derived 
from them.  
Hedley?s Version  
Rangiiria Hedley?s telling of the Taonga P oro story has Hirini Melbourne as the hero ? 
the central character whose linguistic ability and mastery of M ori ways of being and 
doing enabled him to cast a broad net to recapture what had been thought to be all but 
lost. The characteristics of sensitivity, humility, and loyalty to his family, his tribe and his 
nation (in that order) are to be celebrated. In this story, Melbourne is tipuna ? an 
ancestor whose spirit lives on in his work and his life is an inspiration and a model. The 
career of the instruments is for them to be reborn to their originators that they may be 
shared (or not) with the rest of the world. The virtue of Taonga P oro, both the 
instruments and the movement, is to serve the mana of the family and the tribe, and 
perhaps the nation. This version of the story is also echoed in Flintoff?s and Moorfield?s 
versions. 
Nunns?s Version 
In Richard Nunns?s version, Nunns himself is the central character, or at very least co-
equal to Melbourne. He is a hero whose unique attributes and placement in time and 
space combine with divine providence to make him the one chosen to breathe life back 
into the instruments. In his version, Melbourne is an important, but not the central 
character. In this version, virtues of unique insight and individual heroism are the 
celebrated qualities, and the career path for Taonga P oro, is to become a gift to the 
world so that the virtue of the instruments is to serve the mana of the nation (and those 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 354 
 
who have the skill and the knowledge to wield them). The notion that the instruments 
may serve the mana of the iwi and the hapu and the whanau goes without saying. 
Similarly, for Nunns the Pakeha world is ?reality? ? ?one M ori, two Pakeha, but that?s 
the way of the new world?
31
 ? and virtue lies in pragmatism.  
Horo?s Version 
Nunn?s gospel is echoed in Horomona Horo?s telling, which also incorporates elements 
of Hedley?s view. For Horo, both Nunns and Melbourne are iconic: they are the 
?parents,? the matua who are the immediate ancestors of the living instruments, and by 
extension, himself. In Horo?s (re-)telling, the story of the story and his conversion (and 
salvation) are his immediate experience. His career path is bound to that of Taonga P oro 
and that path ultimately leads to redemption in two worlds, as he/they are resur-
rected/reborn as a ?real? (as opposed to hori) M ori and authentic cultural object on the 
marae, on one hand, and as he/they are able to achieve visibility and recognition in the 
world beyond, on the other. For him, Ng  Taonga P oro is as a key to both worlds. 
Standpoints 
These actors all move between multiple worlds, but their standpoints are very different as 
they travel. Hedley remains rooted in the marae ? this is the affective ground where she 
derives her deepest truth from matters of whanau, hapu and iwi, and tikanga. Nunns 
inhabits a different affective space, something more closely resembling ?the real world? 
? a world that is as least as large (or as small) as New Zealand and where affective 
                                                
31
 Richard Nunns interviewed by H. Anderson, 3/17/2006. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 355 
 
engagement is closely related to pragmatism. His truth is derived from a place no more 
determinate than Aotearoa/New Zealand, and within that boundary it seems chimeric in 
quality, as he shifts ground (from dreams to the academy) for rhetorical force. Horo?s 
standpoint is less determined and more in process ? ?under construction? ? than either 
of the others. His standpoint is more of a trajectory, a view shifting toward some 
construction of M oridom that is bound up in discovery and rediscovery of and through 
language and culture. 
In the next section, I parse Taonga P oro using the terminology of affective ?lubricants? I 
proposed earlier. 
Articulations 
The articulation between these three players and their different cultural spaces is Taonga 
P oro. It is the symbolic hinge, the fulcrum through which they interact. In this section I 
parse some elements of affect that may facilitate or impede interaction between these 
cultural spaces. 
Hirini Melbourne is a point of commonality between all of these actors ? he appears as a 
major player in all of their stories. The difference is a matter of emphasis ? for Nunns, 
Melbourne is like the Jesus of the Koran ? a major prophet, but not the Messiah.  
In terms of orientation and matters of value, there is a disjuncture whereby Nunns?s 
apparent lack (or lesser level) of engagement with tikanga and local identification and 
attribution abuts Hedley?s insistence that these are matters of central importance. Horo 
affectively engages across all of these boundaries. While for him traditional matters of 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 356 
 
whakapapa and tikanga and his engagement with them are still under construction, he 
maintains ? and treasures ? an ?ancestral? relationship to both Melbourne and Nunns. 
In the next sections, I expand this theoretical model and explore some of its ramifications 
for other groups. 
Pasifika/New Zealand and the Institutional Interface 
In the preceding sections I parsed articulations between situated M ori and Pakeha 
groups in New Zealand as exposed in music and cultural performance. One concept that 
flows from the idea of articulations between groups is the possibility for the construction 
of shared repertoires, like Taonga P oro. Such repertoires may reflexively construct, 
reconstruct, and create new cultural spaces and institutional frameworks. In the following 
sections, I explore this process as it manifests among various groups, particularly in Pasi-
fika/New Zealand. 
Repertoire and Habitus ? Repertoire as ?Menu? 
Sheffy says the notion of ?cultural repertoire? is designed to ?amend the inadequate 
description of cultural systems simply as ?sets of rules? and ?elements.?? He says further: 
?The notion of repertoires indicates that the knowledge of systems people have and use 
as competent actors in a given culture consists?of matrices, i.e., models, preorganized 
options?that constrain people?s action in each and every case, given the specific cultural 
field one is acting in and according to one?s position within it.
32
  
 
Sheffy goes on to speak of the habitus as a ?mediating mechanism between social webs 
and the actual practices performed by individual actors? that ?can explain the tendency of 
                                                
32
 Sheffy 1997: 35-36. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 357 
 
people occupying ? or aspiring at ? similar or proximate social positions to make 
similar or proximate repertoric choices.?
33
  
A key concept here is the ?knowledge of systems.? I have already shown how cultural 
adepts at Ratana are able to use mastery of systems like language and whakapapa to 
advance their case in the M ori world and I would argue that cultural competence ? 
deep knowledge of how a culture works ? renders a much greater range of options for a 
cultural adept in any system. The repertoric choices that Sheffy describes are analogous 
to dishes on a menu. For example, by mixing and matching ? making substitutions on 
the cultural menu, as it were ? the possibility for innovation, or at least the range of 
possible actions available to an actor in a given circumstance increases.  
At the extremes, the menu analogy morphs into something more closely resembling a 
cook who is able to manipulate a set of ingredients in their most basic form ? to cook 
?from scratch? ? in order to innovate to create new dishes and to extend the cultural 
repertoire. 
This process has implications for the construction of durable institutions. Sheffy 
maintains that repertoires represent conventions and that repertoric options are therefore 
relatively autonomous and that ?once established, may not only endure beyond the social 
                                                
33
 Sheffy 1997: 37. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 358 
 
conditions which initiated them, but also constrain ? or even initiate ? other social 
formations.?
34
 In other words, this process is a model for the creation of institutions. 
In the next section I examine connections between development of repertoires and the 
construction of Pasifika institutions at the Whitireia Performing Arts Program.  
Whitireia Performing Arts, Deconstructing Unitary Repertoires 
In order to construct an institution, ?New Zealand Contemporary Dance? or ?Pasifika 
Contemporary Dance,? the program leaders at the Whitireia Performing Arts Program 
brought together a set of cultural repertoires from different sources. Three of the sources, 
Cook Island M ori, Samoan, and New Zealand M ori represent repertoires whose 
material is relatively fixed and unitary in the sense that the traditional focus has not been 
on ?technique? ? as an approach that breaks down repertoric units, like named dances 
and songs, into abstract ?atoms? that represent elemental competencies that must be 
recombined in order to produce ?works.? Instead these cultures deal with unitary reper-
toires that are more or less directly analogous to life in the communities they come out of. 
?Training? in these cultural spaces usually takes the form of learning by experiencing, 
being and doing ? by osmosis.  
At Whitireia, these traditions of unitary repertoires are recontextualized (into a larger 
repertoire that includes all of the separate cultural traditions under a single rubric), 
deconstructed (so that elements smaller than the individual components of unitary 
repertoires may be discerned), mixed, and made apposite to a European modern dance 
                                                
34
 Sheffy 1997: 38. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 359 
 
tradition. There are several conditions that make this change in phase plausible if not 
necessary.  
In most cases, the original or traditional contexts for learning and performing these 
cultural idioms are either muted or not easily accessible by would-be practitioners from 
urban circumstances. Similarly, the people who study at Whitireia, although many have 
putative roots in the cultures or traditions, most have not had access to the kind of 
immersion that would enable them to learn by being and doing (i.e., by osmosis). Also, 
the Whitireia students have, for the most part, grown up in an urban and diverse, 
multicultural environment, and their connections and identifications, their loyalties and 
inclinations ? their affective dispositions ? may tend to pull (or push) them away from 
any unitary repertoric environment. Under these circumstances the need to mix and 
match, to find an expression that fits otherwise fragmented identities, fuels, and regulates 
the deconstruction and recombinant production of ?new? cultural expressions, as an 
antidote to a kind of cultural dysphasia or dyslexia. The result in the case of the Whitireia 
alumni choreographers was ?Pasifika Contemporary Dance.? 
The affective engagement of the participants tends to regulate the deconstructive process. 
The tendency to test to destruction ? the impulse to reduce the ?size? of the repertoric 
unit until it becomes so abstract and denatured to the point that it no longer has any 
cultural referent, to atomize it ? is moderated by the participants? affective engagement 
in the process of positively constructing themselves from a set of components that matter 
to them.  
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 360 
 
It is noteworthy that the early stages of the creative construction of this nascent genre 
took place in a context subsumed within the institutional framework of the New Zealand 
educational system, but the culmination (at least as I witnessed) came later. I will return 
to a discussion of tension between old and new institutions in New Zealand later in the 
concluding sections of this dissertation.  
P tea 
The M ori word ?p tea? means a finely woven basket. It is a metaphor for a vessel for 
things are put into for safekeeping, and then taken out again when they are needed. 
Tangencies and Shared Repertoires 
From the point of view constructing ?new? cultural institutions, or what is tantamount to 
the same thing ? the reconstruction or modification of existing cultural institutions to 
embrace and nurture the new, a desirable end of cultural interactions ? is the creation of 
repositories, or storehouses of cultural repertoires. Earlier in this chapter, I spoke of 
articulations between cultures and affective engagement as a ?lubricant? that may 
facilitate cultural interaction. I said then that these affective lubricants create a ?space? 
for the construction of mutual investments across cultures. I introduced a set of terms and 
conditions that describe amounts and kinds of affect (i.e., positive, negative, or neutral) 
that either facilitate or impede intercultural engagement. In this section, I want to extend 
that terminology to apply to the construction of shared institutions in the form of cultural 
repositories where cultural products may be stored and later recovered. 
I spoke earlier of ?intersections? and ?abutments? of culture. I say that a ?cultural 
tangency? is the precise point of abutment between cultural spaces. It is a moment of 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 361 
 
contact before engagement, but after recognition ? the moment when two groups ?see? 
each other. It is the minimum requirement for future engagement, but it is not a guarantee 
of engagement. It may lead to war instead. At the moment of tangency, a liberal applica-
tion of affective lubricant may open a shared space of some kind. It is in this space that a 
shared repertoire may be created. 
This process is a thread that binds the sites of my research. And at each of those sites I 
witnessed a potential for creation of shared repertoires. 
Cultural repositories can be created when cultural groups come to have shared repertoires 
across boundaries. The shared cultural products may or may not have the same function 
for the different groups and the actual point of tangency may be accidental or external to 
the uses and functions of the music for the groups sharing a repertoire. This is particularly 
evident in the recovery of ng  taonga p oro as a living institution where the instruments 
were revived because some traces of them still existed, albeit in the creaky old Western 
museum where their immediate ?use? as antiquated relics, curiosities, and remnants of a 
dead past, was a poor match for an affective investment in them as living treasures.   
Thus, one group might be attracted to ?the sound? or ?the beat? of music, or even to the 
simple fact of its exoticism, while another might emphasize the ?cultural significance? of 
the cultural object for establishing their identity. The actual uses and functions don?t 
necessarily matter ? what is crucial is that the performed material be shared so that the 
result is a repertoire that is preserved in some form. I would go so far as to say that even 
the quality of the shared performance, from the originating culture?s perspective, is not 
crucial to the functioning of the shared repertoire as a repository. In fact, a performance 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 362 
 
that is judged to be ?bad? or unconvincing based upon some missing element, that is in 
some way not available to the host culture, might even spark an investment by 
subsequent generations of the originating culture based on their ability to supply those 
missing elements (embedded elsewhere, presumably in their experience of their culture). 
And this might provide an impetus for them to undertake to resurrect a performance in a 
manner that contributes to its rhetorical force and their mana. 
Indeed, the cloistering of ng  taonga p oro in New Zealand Museums ultimately did not 
prevent the instruments from being restored to ?the people.? The fact that the constitution 
of exactly who ?the people? are, or the status of what the ?proper? use of the cultural 
object will be going into the future is disputed notwithstanding, the instruments, and 
some aspects of the cultural repertoires that they represent, have been conserved. 
The danger therefore does not lie in the existence or construction of shared repertoires 
and cultural repositories, but rather in the construction and administration of controlling 
institutions and how they may regulate to facilitate or impede access. 
In the next sections, I imagine the virtue of the beneficent institution. 
Institutional Inertia, Efficacy, and Persistence  
Institutional inertia is the self-contained tendency of a set of dynamical cultural relations 
to persist and carry forward in time. Institutional efficacy relates to an institution?s ability 
to hold, collect, disburse, and confer value. The inertial mass of the institution as it 
carries forward ? its power to sustain ? may be determined by its affective mass, the 
?weight? of people?s ongoing investment in the institution. In any case, the weight of an 
ongoing investment would be the ultimate indicator of institutional effectiveness as well 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 363 
 
as persistence. And the ability to collect value is indeed the ability of the institution to 
attract and hold affective investment. 
I say that the ?life? and the ?body? of an institution consists of a set of cultural repertoires 
embodied by more than one person at a time. As a result, the repertoire may take on a life 
of its own, independent of an individual body, and potentially present in more than one. 
This is a reflexive construction as the repertoire flows to and from an institution to 
another body. Indeed embodiment, in the literal sense, either through dance or song or 
gesture, and especially including language, is a particularly effective method of institu-
tional investment. This is even more the case when the nature of the institution is hyper-
reflexive in the sense that affective investments continue to adhere to the depositors ? 
that the identification of their investment, their contribution, as it were, is maintained, 
even as the products are shared. The identification of the investor with the investment is 
maintenance of value, as opposed to a transfer of wealth, which is tantamount to a loss of 
value in the sense that ?real? value of a cultural object is not reified or abstract, its value 
depends on being identified with an investor.  
The virtues of the institution are to persist and carry forward in time; to hold, collect, 
disburse, and confer value (affective investment); to embody a set of cultural repertoires 
in such a way as to reflexively maintain identification of the cultural product (the taonga) 
with its investors. 
I now turn to the subject of institutional disjuncture and dysfunction as it applies to the 
situatedness of ?other? cultural groups ? tauiwi ? in New Zealand. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 364 
 
Disjuncture and Dysfunction at the Interface of Cultural and 
Educational Institutions in New Zealand 
As I noted in Chapter Five, New Zealand educational institutions are commonly a point 
of cultural tangency for recent immigrants and urban migrants. They are a place where 
shared repertoires and new identities may be nourished under the proper circumstances. 
Also in Chapter Five, Gaylene Sciascia described an institutional dysfunction that 
manifests as resistance to students who among those she deemed likely to succeed in the 
Performing Arts Program. Her was aim to create space within the Polytechnic institution 
that addressed the needs of urban Pacific youth, but ?there was a real pressure from the 
government about degrees ? it?s a bit scary because your entry qualification would 
normally exclude a lot of the people [who] are our most successful.?
35
 
The entry qualifications constituted an institutionally embedded impediment to a 
potentially successful population. This is particularly insidious because the Polytech 
system is the arm of the New Zealand education system that is meant to target these same 
populations and the dysfunction is actually a product of the same value system that 
establishes the targets. In this case, the weight of the institution seems set so as to create 
the opposite intended effect. An examination of this dysfunction in terms of the model of 
the beneficent institution that I have put forward is instructive. 
The weight of the institution is well formed and palpable in the New Zealand education 
sector. The 1989 Education Act charged the New Zealand Qualifications Authority 
(NZQA) with the responsibility to ?establish a consistent approach to the recognition of 
                                                
35
 Gaylene Sciascia interviewed by H. Anderson, 3/2/2006. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 365 
 
academic and vocational qualifications? and all funding flows from the government 
through the NZQA which sets standards and implements policy.
36
 
The New Zealand?s polytechnic sector is an adjunct to the university system and serves 
community and vocational needs in the tertiary or ?non-compulsory? education. Al-
though the polytechnic are the downmarket component of the tertiary sector, they are 
funded from the same pool, and are therefore in competition with the universities for 
funding. The universities are seen as elite institutions while the polytechnics generally 
deal with segments of the population who, for whatever reason, either aren?t able or 
aren?t inclined to gain entrance or remain at university.  
The diversity of the population, and hence the range of courses that are available at 
Polytechs is enormous. Similarly, the range of traditions at the institutions is hardly 
monolithic.
37
 Some of the difficulties with the NZQA and the larger institutional 
framework in which it is embedded can be ascribed to an ideological orientation that 
maintains that it is appropriate for a central authority to impose a single, monolithic set of 
values ? ?standards? ? on the diverse set of repertoires and traditions that the trope 
?education? represents. An example of the imposition of a value system on a diverse 
population is evident in the 2006 comments of Education Minister for the Labour 
Government, Michael Cullen, on a decision to more closely regulate curricula in the form 
of which courses the government would fund. To justify this change, citing failures of the 
                                                
36
 1989 Education Act quoted in Birchfield 2005. 
37
 Melles points to a diverse set of repertoires when he says that a ?heterogeneity of curricular traditions? is 
present in New Zealand Polytechnics. Melles 2008. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 366 
 
previous policy (known popularly among polytechnic and university lecturers as ?bums 
on seats?) that funded courses directly on the basis of the number of students enrolled, 
Cullen said, ?Too many students were either not completing courses or not qualifying 
with skills needed by industry?. Institutions were not working with businesses to 
identify and fill skill gaps.?
38
 In other words, the virtue of tertiary education is strongly 
identified (by Cullen, who speaks for the state) with the needs of existing businesses. At 
the same time the desires of students in the ?creative marketplace,? as it were are pushed 
back. The point here is that, although it is understandable that an unregulated ?free 
market? system might prove inappropriate, there seems to be an underlying tendency to 
impose a monolithic value system, without reference to affective investment on the part 
of individuals, cultural groups, or at-large populations. And the norm is institutional 
governance by fiat, even in areas that closely abut creative sectors. Most telling is that 
this narrative is easily defended within the prevailing political and ideological framework 
of New Zealand culture at large. 
What emerges is an institutional model that is very nearly the antithesis of my ?bene-
ficent institution.? And affective investment by diverse cultural groups is (seemingly 
deliberately) discouraged within this framework, which allows for value to accrue in only 
a very limited diversity of ways.  
                                                
38
 Richard Thomson, Times Higher Education Supplement, 4/21/2006. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 367 
 
Tradition, Authenticity, and Affect 
Concepts of tradition and authenticity are affectively bound together. They are also 
temporally related, in a manner analogous to verb tenses, in that they represent a similar 
affect but they are differently situated in time. Both terms are applied in the present, but 
?tradition? is historical in the sense that it refers to a continuity between a past moment 
and the present ? it is retrospective, whereas ?authenticity? implies an affective 
investment in the present. 
Critic Richard Taruskin defines ?authenticity? functionally in terms of how well a 
performance reflects its own time: ?What we call historical performance is the sound of 
now, not then. It derives its authenticity not from its historical verisimilitude, but from its 
being for better or worse a true mirror of late-20th-century taste.?
39
 He places further 
emphasis by going on to say that, ?Being the true voice of one?s time is (as Shaw might 
have said) roughly 40,000 times as vital and important as being the assumed voice of 
history.?
40
 Taruskin?s juxtaposition of ?historical verisimilitude? and ?a true mirror of 
late-20th-century taste,? and ?the true voice of one?s time? and ?the assumed voice of 
history? is interesting. Taruskin, fairly explicitly, expresses disaffection for ?history? as 
something unknowable ? a commodity invoked by people with something to sell. At the 
same time, he champions the notion of being the ?true mirror? of something ?real? that he 
calls ?late-20th-century taste? and which he equates with the condition of being ?the true 
                                                
39
 Taruskin 1990. 
40
 Ibid. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 368 
 
voice of one?s time.? It emerges that Taruskin is disaffected with the past, but deeply 
invested in the present. 
In another, later (1992 as opposed to 1990) discussion of the Early Music Movement, 
Taruskin suggests that contemporary or modern performance need not be ?historical? in 
order to be ?authentic? ? that it is incorrect to assume that ?authenticity can derive only 
from historical correctness.?
41
 Indeed, he finds that conflating of historicity and authen-
ticity is unhealthy because, ?A more authentic understanding of what authenticity entails 
might make classical music more relevant to human needs and thus prolong its life in our 
culture.?
42
 
In this more moderate statement (he seems to allow that authenticity might in some cases 
derive from historical correctness), he goes on to justify his viewpoint on a pragmatic 
basis that an orientation to the present might make classical music ?more relevant to 
human needs? in a way that would extend its longevity. Ultimately, he goes on to tie his 
critique of historical correctness (which has overtones in common with some current 
usage of the term ?political correctness?) to an overlapping critique, particularly by 
anthropologist Allan Hanson, of ?culture invention? in New Zealand that implicates 
academics and modern M ori in something resembling a shell game.
43
 Taruskin pulls 
back from outright condemnation of the practice of culture invention by quoting Hanson 
                                                
41
 Taruskin 1992: 311. 
42
 Ibid.: 312. 
43
 See Hanson 1989. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 369 
 
saying, ?The fact that culture is an invention, and anthropology one of the inventing 
agents, should not engender suspicion or despair,?
44
 because, by implication, all culture is 
an ?invention.? Aside from the rather patronizing tone of these remarks, especially since 
what remains is the sense that, while we should not be suspicious, nor should the natives 
despair, such ?culture inventions,? while they may exist and are ?normative,? they are 
also inauthentic ? they aren?t real. 
What Taruskin misses is that his own criterion for authenticity, at least in the case of the 
?true mirror,? doesn?t stand up either. How does one establish the ?truth? of the mirror? 
The sole recourse for such a judgment is taste. And ?taste? is a commodity that Bourdieu 
has debunked by pegging it to social criteria that have very little to do with anything 
more convincing than culture invention.  
The one demonstrable criterion cited by Taruskin is longevity as a marker of ?health.? 
Interestingly enough, despite the whiff of inauthenticity that Taruskin imputes to them, 
M ori may make an admirable claim to health on the basis of his criteria ? the elements 
of performance practice that I have identified on my map of M ori cultural space are 
well-documented and bear little relation to the types of invention that Hanson ascribes to 
anthropologists like Elsdon Best et alia.
45
 But the real proof of their authenticity doesn?t 
lie with historical sources in any case, it rests instead on the efficacy of their perfor-
mances in the present, as I have already demonstrated.  
                                                
44
 Hanson quoted in Taruskin 1992: 313. 
45
 Hanson 1989. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 370 
 
Keneti Muaiava?s rendering of tradition and authenticity is also more convincing than 
Taruskin?s. On the one hand Muaiava treats authenticity in terms of embededness in a 
particular cultural fabric with links to the past. On the other hand, he treats tradition as 
something that is not abstract, but that has a functional relationship to the present. The 
rhetorical force of Muaiava?s concept of tradition is that it represents an embodied 
affective force that acts in the present and in relation to a social web ? a family and a 
community that are invested in the tradition and the embodiment of it on an ongoing 
basis. 
Similarly, those M ori, whom Taruskin and Hanson seem so ready to patronize, are also 
deeply embedded in webs of practice, with mutually held repertoires that bind them to 
communities and individuals, past and present. The difference between how Taruskin 
ascribes value and the way that Muaiava, Aperahama, and others embedded in some 
other non-Western cultural spaces do, is in the realm of affective engagement. To posit 
the ?truth? of something requires affective engagement ? the act of certifying something 
as ?real? or ?authentic? is an investment of one?s self. When you make this investment, 
you say ?this is real to me, it matters.? The differences in cultural spaces comes down to 
a question of support ? whom do you speak for, and who speaks for you?  
When Taruskin speaks of a ?true mirror,? he shows himself to be passionately invested in 
the possibility that such a thing exists. His passion in this regard reminds me of Richard 
Nunns?s talk of his dreams. Taruskin and Nunns both seem to speak primarily for 
themselves and in opposition to a prevailing view. At the same time Taruskin seems to 
yearn for ?the true voice? that will speak both to and for him, and also to everyone else. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 371 
 
And Nunns seems to want to become something like that ?true voice.? But the basic 
cultural fabric that they inhabit does not support that kind of dreaming. This is a basic 
difference between the habituses. 
In order to explore differences in cultural space, institutions and affect further, I now turn 
to a discussion of the constitutive power of discourse. 
The Constitutive Power of Discourse 
I suspect that there is something in the imaginings of academics who see themselves as 
being outside or above the discourse they critique that reflects the cultural space that they 
occupy. This affect, which may present as a hauteur or arrogance, or sometimes 
otherwordliness, often manifests in writings about the Pacific, and M ori are a popular 
subject for musings on topics like ?culture invention.? These discourses are frequently 
marked by disdain for essentialism and a preference (like my own) for analyses that 
foreground process. But my sense is that the truth of the mattering is somewhere in 
between, and the challenge is to achieve some kind of dialectical middle ground between 
what usually plays out as relativistic versus essentialist casting of an exotic ?other.? A 
difficult task is made more so by attempting to stand outside of the discourse even as you 
construct it. 
Norton
46
 suggests a framework that balances the ?constitutive power of discourse? (vis ? 
vis ?culture invention?) with a quasi-structural/processual element based on how this 
                                                
46
 Norton?s argument builds on culture invention discourse previously engaged in by Hobsbawm (1983) 
and Hanson (1989). 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 372 
 
constitutive power is limited or reinforced by pre-existent symbols that are generally 
available in quotidian social relations: 
Two circumstances are distinguished. In one, the constitutive power of discourse is 
limited by the simultaneous existence of its ideas and symbols in routine social relations 
and cultural practices. In the other, the ideas and symbols available for discourse in the 
political arena have a creative power by virtue of their contrastive relation to routine life. 
In other words, a capacity simply to reaffirm identities and solidarities that have long 
been routinely sustained is contrasted with a power to shape identities and solidarities.
47
  
 
Norton maintains that the constitutive power of discourse ? the measure of its effective 
ability to construct or reconstruct ?tradition? ? rests on social context. The ?discourse? 
that Norton refers to is elite or academic, and by his thinking, the power of this discourse 
to construct culture is reinforced by disjuncture between routine, lived experience (of the 
masses, as it were), and an idealized vision conjured in elite discourse. Conversely, when 
identity discourse is embedded in normal relations so that the dominant political 
discourse is consistent with the way ordinary people live their lives and across micro and 
macro social structures, the power of discourse to construct or reconstruct culture is 
attenuated. Speaking of Fijian culture as a model of this latter condition, Norton says that, 
?In Fiji national-level discourse on Fijian identity and community have a strong 
anchorage in local-level social relations and cultural practices. The elite discourses are 
strongly embedded in the routine life of well-organized social groupings.?
48
  
Norton maintains that: 
Oceanic societies differ in the extent to which the cultural forms of identity are embedded 
in established social and political relations and [are either] less open to rivalrous 
                                                
47
 Norton 1993: 745. 
48
 Norton 1993: 751. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 373 
 
manipulation, or are being newly and ambiguously constructed and therefore more 
tractable as a resource in political rivalries.
49
  
 
For Norton, a disjuncture between (elite) discourse and (common) experience leaves a 
kind of vacuum (between the walk and the talk, as it were) that is subject to manipulation 
by various parties who would fill that vacuum to fulfill their own agendas. In the case of 
New Zealand M ori, Norton sees a ?disjunction between a redemptive discourse and 
experience of inequality and social prejudice in relations with an immigrant majority. It is 
a disjunction that gives a reconstructive power to discourse on identity.?
50
  
The implication is that a bunch of gullible M oris are being preyed upon by some uppity 
academics or other radical elements who are manipulating them in order to gain some 
kind of advantage. Norton theorizes that, in the power the elites have, there is a discre-
pancy between the ?ideas and symbols that are available for discourse in the political 
arena?
51
 and those available to people in everyday life. Therefore discourse has a 
constitutive power. The idea being that the ?redemptive discourse? will be taken as ?the 
truth,? since people are unhappy with their position in society, and that this will 
effectively give constitutive power to the fabricated story. However, this is not how the 
story has played out in New Zealand in the 15 years since Norton?s writing. What has 
happened instead is a rebirth of the M ori language as a living language, spoken, and 
understood by a widening group of people across a diverse ethnic spectrum in New 
                                                
49
 Norton 1993: 751. 
50
 Norton 1993: 752. 
51
 Norton 1993: 745. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 374 
 
Zealand, increasing levels of recognition for M ori culture, and, to a lesser but 
perceptible degree, broader recognition for other ways of thinking across a range of New 
Zealand institutions. 
Norton?s argument is premised in part on the domination of the M ori minority by the 
European immigrant majority. It is also premised on language erasure and the loss of 
tradition and culture that would leave M ori bereft of a symbology that would enable 
them to express themselves in an appropriate way. But what we see instead, is that there 
is an incredibly rich symbol set and that, far from lacking an adequate traditional 
repertoire, M ori tradition is thriving, and while there are some aspects of culture that 
have been lost, there is a more than adequate base for reconstructing the culture in a way 
that fits contemporary life and aspirations into the future. And if this is ?culture 
invention,? then it is a traditional activity, because it is quite clear that there is an 
unbroken chain of M ori prophets at least as far back as the early prophet Te Ua, and 
following him, Te Kooti, Te Whiti, Rua Kenana, Ratana, et cetera, who have made 
imitation and innovation a traditional activity. And for that string of prophets, the 
composition of waiata, the wood and stone carving traditions called whakaairo, and the 
embellishment of culture are all an artform. 
The disjuncture between the representations by Taruskin, Hanson, Norton, and others is 
due to a fundamental difference in attributing value. For M ori and some of the other 
indigenous people I interacted with in the course of my research, value lies in one?s 
relations with and to other people and to the world, in a vast interconnected web. And the 
true nature of ?value? is as an investment, not a ?thing.? For example, if we look at 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 375 
 
animism, a belief system and a trope that is often associated with Polynesian people, what 
we should understand is that an affective investment in an object is what gives it life and 
value.  From this viewpoint, the power of discourse is relational, not constitutive.  
Similarly with cultural repertoires and institutions. The most effective of these are those 
that function as p tea, that is they are able to collect, hold, disburse, and confer value, 
and where what is invested retains (and gains) its identification with the investor.  
A 	       
Ethnographic Allegory 
Clifford 1986 maintains that there is a meta dimension to the form and content of an 
ethnography ? a larger context in which the stories and their manner of telling, tell yet 
another story of how the ethnographer sees, interprets, and judges his or her world. He 
suggests that ethnography itself may be treated as a ?performance emplotted by powerful 
stories.? He says, ?Embodied in written reports, these stories simultaneously describe real 
cultural events and make additional, moral, ideological, and even cosmological state-
ments.?
52
  
I say further that cultural groups, through reflexive investment in and by people who 
come forward to represent the group in performance, and who are vested by that group, 
are increasingly self-ethnographic. They construct and tell stories (and songs) of 
themselves and their cultures. In the process they shape and construct themselves as a 
significant feature of the overall cultural landscape that they inhabit, even as it changes.  
                                                
52
 Clifford 1986: 98. 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 376 
 
This self-ethnographic process, particularly as performers interactively sing themselves 
and each other into being, is a focus of this ethnography. I see my task as an ethnographer 
to try to hear that singing.  
(He said ? she said)
nth
 
The allegorical elements of the stories I have represented here ? stories of performers, 
their viewpoints, and their values and, by implication, the various institutions in which 
the performers are embedded, and where values are kept and maintained ? are dynamic. 
Cross- and inter-cultural narratives and metanarratives are in interactive flux as 
underlying worldviews and values collide. In the process stories are recursively born and 
reborn as stories of stories, and then as stories of stories of stories, ad infinitum.  
This final section of this dissertation is an effort to bring that infinite regress to a pause. 
Ultimately, this is the story of what I heard when they spoke. The only way for me to 
validate that what I heard approaches the truth is to speak and listen to the reply. 
Narrative Indigeneity 
People, who may not be able to tap into local cultural institutions by virtue of birth, may 
seek institutional validation and support either by recourse to other areas, particularly 
those of the public sector whose defining narratives espouse ?diversity? or multicultur-
alism as a value or a desirable attribute of national identity.  
Alternatively (or simultaneously), they make seek to exploit loopholes in the standard 
story that allow them to cast themselves as a part of the picture. In this scenario, they 
proceed by creating narrative spinoffs where characters (who look like them) are fleshed 
out, discovered, or invented. This process may involve the refabrication of an old plot 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 377 
 
line (Richard Nunns?s dreaming) or the conjuring of an imagined relationship ? the long 
lost cousin or the twin separated by birth and raised by strangers or wolves ? who is 
made to walk onto the stage and is met with astonishment giving way to acceptance. The 
effectiveness of these narratives rests in part on the plausibility of the story. But the real 
measure of acceptance will be the affective engagement of the audience. And even the 
most implausible story line may be embraced when met by gales of laughter. 
Privileged Voices 
In contrast with a method that begins with asynchronous written texts and exogenously 
generated ?historical? records and accounts and balances them with oral testimony in 
order to establish temporal continuity as a sign of authenticity, the method of this 
dissertation has been instead to privilege indigenous oral testimonies, to interpret them, 
and extract metanarratives, in order to tell the ?story of the story? as it may impact the 
present. 
The focus of the field for my research has been contemporary cultural spaces ? where 
cultures intersect and abut, and where the potential for shared repertoires and the creation 
of hybrid identities and ?new? expressive forms and repertoires that have some 
demonstrable cultural (as opposed to temporal) continuities exists. 
Limitations 
The fieldwork for this dissertation has been carried out entirely in the North Island of 
New Zealand, and focuses on areas where cultural interactions may be observed. My 
focus on overlapping cultural spaces means that I have neglected disjunct spaces, where 
cultural traditions are more segregated, and where music and performance may indicate, 
Chapter 6: Processes, Maps, and Transformations 378 
 
or even promote divergence rather than the ?confluence? of cultural streams that is the 
titular subject of this dissertation. It is entirely possible that such separate and potentially 
divergent spaces may provide valuable insights into aspects of institutional frameworks 
in New Zealand that seem resistant, or even hostile, to diversification and affective 
investment in other ways of being and doing. 
I hope to have the opportunity to expand the scope of this research, just begun. 
 
 
379 
M ORI GLOSSARY  
 
Aotearoa  literally ?long cloud,? usually rendered metaphorically as the ?M ori 
name for New Zealand? or ?Land of  the Long White Cloud, 
Aotearoa/New Zealand?   
arikinui ?great chief? or esteemed leader 
atua ancestral spirit  
haka generic term for dances in which groups employ demonstrations of 
rhythmic movement and chanting in a variety of  ritual or spontaneous 
contexts 
hapu kinship group 
harawene envy, or jealousy 
hau breath, health, spirit 
Haumanu literally ?breath of a bird,? a rich metaphoric name for a group of 
people involved in the recovery and reconstruction of ng  taonga 
p oro, ancient M ori musical instruments 
hawhe kawhe M orization of the English term, ?half-caste? 
hori false 
hui gathering 
iwi tribe, nation, or race ? a major confederation 
Ka Mate ?to die? ? the title of the haka that is most often associated with the 
New Zealand nation; also called ?Te Rauparaha?s Haka? 
kaea leader of a haka 
kai food or sustenance; also a prefix indicating someone who performs an 
action or function as described by the body of the word 
kaitangata cannibalism 
kaiwero ?layer of the dart? ? the person who makes the challenge in the early 
stages of a ritual powhiri 
 
 
380 
kapa haka ?dance in rows? ? a performative form of dance that became popular 
in the first part of the 20
th
 century and that has been used as an 
important form of cultural retention and recovery 
Kapa o Pango a haka that was adapted for use by the New Zealand All Blacks rugby 
team as an alternate to Te Rauparaha?s haka 
karakia a chant that invokes the atua (ancestral spirits) 
karanga ?cry out? ? a calling out to groups on the ceremonial ground (paepae) 
of a marae during the powhiri welcoming ritual 
kaumatua esteemed elder 
kaupapa M ori M ori protocol ? the formal ?M ori way? of doing things 
kawa local custom 
kawanatanga governorship 
kingitanga the M ori king movement 
kohanga reo ?language nest? ? a movement to revitalize M ori language by 
teaching young children in an immersion environment 
koro older man, grandfather ? term of (respectful) address 
kotahitanga oneness, unity ? also a movement, similar in purpose to kingitanga, to 
unite M ori in order to effectively resist European domination 
k auau end-blown flute 
kuia older woman 
kuri dog or slave ? term of disrespect 
makutu sorcery, evil  
mana esteem, power 
manuhiri visitors, the others 
M oritanga that which is M ori 
 
 
381 
marae area in front of the wharenui (big house) where formal gatherings (like 
powhiri) take place; also used to denote the surrounding buildings and 
grounds 
matakite foresight or seer 
matauranga area of study  
matua parent or mentor 
mirimiri rub, stroke, or fondle 
moko face or image also facial tattoo and, by extension, tattooing in general 
morehu remnant or survivor 
moteatea general term for traditional songs  
ng  kupu ?the words? ? lyrics (modern usage) 
ngao soft palate type of singing voice (?head voice?) 
noa ordinary ? opposite of tapu 
oriori content-laden song used to relate ancestry and history to a child (often 
mistranslated as ?lullabye?) 
pa marae grounds (fortified) village 
p ekeeke or p eke   powhiri protocol where the ?home? speakers go first  
paepae  ?standing place? ? ceremonial grounds of a marae 
Pai Marire ?Peace and Good? early (and still extant) M ori Christian (and 
political) movement 
pakeha European or non-M ori 
patere derisive song chanted at a fast tempo 
poi a small, light ball on a string that is swung rhythmically and with 
precision in performance 
powhiri formal ritual of welcome 
p kaea long, trombone-like instrument, used as a clarion and made of wood  
 
 
382 
p oro song, musical instrument 
p tatara shell trumpet 
p torino bifurcated wooden instrument played as either a flute or trumpet 
rangatiratanga chiefly esteem 
rangitahi young person 
reo voice 
rongo health 
taha shore ? side or aspect 
taiaha traditional fighting staff 
tangata whenua people of the earth ? home people 
tangihanga funeral 
taonga p oro ?treasure of sound? 
tapu sacred 
tauiwi non-M ori ? tribe of others 
tauparapara incantation to start a formal speech  
tikanga custom or traditional way of doing things 
tohunga ?sorcerer? or adept 
tumutumu tapping instrument made of stone, wood, or bone; sometimes used to 
set a rhythm for chanting 
waiata song 
wairua spirit 
waka canoe 
wananga gathering for the purpose of learning or instruction ? conference, 
workshop, or university 
whaikorero formal speech 
 
 
383 
whakah h  vain or conceited 
whakapapa genealogy ? formal set of relations to people and things 
whakatauki proverb 
whanau family (extended family in modern usage) 
wharekai ?eating house? 
 
384 
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