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Ko Taranaki Te Maunga
"Parihaka was a place and an event that could be lost and found, over and over. It moved into view, then disappeared, just like the mountain."
In 1881, over 1,500 colonial troops invaded the village of Parihaka near the Taranaki coast. Many people were expelled, buildings destroyed, and chiefs Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kākahi were jailed.
In this BWB Text, Rachel Buchanan tells her own, deeply personal story of Parihaka. Beginning with the death of her father, a man with affiliations to many of Taranaki’s eight iwi, she describes her connection to Taranaki, the land and mountain; and the impact of confiscation. Buchanan discusses the apologies and settlements that have taken place since te pāhuatanga, the invasion of Parihaka.
In 1881, over 1,500 colonial troops invaded the village of Parihaka near the Taranaki coast. Many people were expelled, buildings destroyed, and chiefs Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kākahi were jailed.
In this BWB Text, Rachel Buchanan tells her own, deeply personal story of Parihaka. Beginning with the death of her father, a man with affiliations to many of Taranaki’s eight iwi, she describes her connection to Taranaki, the land and mountain; and the impact of confiscation. Buchanan discusses the apologies and settlements that have taken place since te pāhuatanga, the invasion of Parihaka.
- GenresNonfiction
Kindle Edition
Published September 10, 2018
About the author
Rachel Buchanan
16 books10 followersDr Rachel Buchanan (Taranaki, Te Atiawa) is a historian, archivist and speechwriter. Currently, she is an honorary research associate in Indigenous Studies at the University of Melbourne.
Buchanan has published three books, including "Stop Press," a history-memoir about the collapse of newspaper manufacturing. Her fourth book, "Te Motunui Epa," follows the journey of one of New Zealand's most valuable artworks from swamp to chateau, from auction room to courtroom to lockup and back home again.
Previously, Buchanan was Curator of the Germaine Greer Archive at the University of Melbourne.
Buchanan received her Ph.D. in History from Monash University.
Buchanan has published three books, including "Stop Press," a history-memoir about the collapse of newspaper manufacturing. Her fourth book, "Te Motunui Epa," follows the journey of one of New Zealand's most valuable artworks from swamp to chateau, from auction room to courtroom to lockup and back home again.
Previously, Buchanan was Curator of the Germaine Greer Archive at the University of Melbourne.
Buchanan received her Ph.D. in History from Monash University.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
June 24, 2021
As we have increasingly come to recognise settler colonialism as an exercise in genocide, extinguishing Indigenous peoples in an effort to turn settlers into ‘natives’, we have enhanced our understandings of the continuing process that is colonialism (‘a structure, not an event’ in the words of Patrick Wolfe). In some cases that extinguishment was physical, but more often it was a process of cultural genocide – in the oft used North American phrase, ‘killing the Indian to save the child’. While in some settings this process was a continuous exercise of erosion and eradication, every settler colonial state is marked by moments of excess – Myrtle Creek, Wounded Knee, Residential Schools.
In Aotearoa/New Zealand this excess may be seen in, amongst other things, the sacking in 1881 of Parihaka, a community in Taranaki, where a military force of 1500 led by a Cabinet Minister besieged and sacked a pacifist town of 2000 (including the kids) that offered no resistance. As is the case with many of these events, for many years it went unrecognised outside Māori communities in and around Taranaki and others affected – it was a multi-iwi settlement – and their supporters. That is, until the New Zealand government began to front up to the scars of colonialism from the later 1980s, and Parihaka became a focus of attention. As Rachel Buchanan notes in this rich and engaging exploration of what all this means, the NZ government apologised nine times between 1991 and 2018.
In exploring the historical circumstances and contemporary resonance of the attack on Parihaka, Buchanan raises an array of interlocking issues. Many are deeply personal, as a child of Taranaki – her father had links to many of the region’s iwi and she had kinfolk at the siege and in the passive resistance movement built around the town, yet she lives away and has only a limited grasp of the language and her relationships. Others are broader, on the continuing significance of both the event itself and broader processes of land alienation it was part of. Others grapple with contemporary policy, and the actions of the state. All these are rich, powerful and unsettling, disrupting historic and new myths.
Fascinating and evocative as these issues are, the richness of this (short) text for me lay in her discussion of the apologies as missing the point. The dominant language around and understanding of the act of apologising in these cases – we’ve also seen them, amongst others, in Canada regarding Residential Schools and Australia regarding the Stolen Generations of kids kidnapped into ‘care’ – is that it is about ‘restoring the honour of the Crown’. The critique that emerges from Buchanan’s case is that this approach continues to ‘do (de)colonisation’ on the colonisers’ terms, so misses the point.
The most compelling parts of this discussion turn on the question of Indigenous shame, the sense of whakamā that flows from loss – of land, of language, of resources, traditions and leaders, the shame that is caused by the condition of being colonised and the cultural genocide that flows from that. In making this case she is powerfully asserting that while it was the Crown that was ‘dishonourable’, the dishonouring was not its alone – and that the approach adopted fails to recognise, or come anywhere near addressing, the effects of its actions. She does not accuse the Crown of being self-interested or self-indulgent, but it is hard to see these actions in any other way – especially as she notes Ministers’ responses of ‘being hurt’ when Taranaki iwi refused to accept the 1991 apology.
Buchanan writes elegantly and evocatively of this loss, pain, shame and more, as well as of her engagement, discovery and place in this world. This is part of the impressive BWM Texts series, and comes highly recommended as a sharp commentary on history, the past, the present and the condition of coloniality. I found it richly compelling and nearly impossible to put down.
In Aotearoa/New Zealand this excess may be seen in, amongst other things, the sacking in 1881 of Parihaka, a community in Taranaki, where a military force of 1500 led by a Cabinet Minister besieged and sacked a pacifist town of 2000 (including the kids) that offered no resistance. As is the case with many of these events, for many years it went unrecognised outside Māori communities in and around Taranaki and others affected – it was a multi-iwi settlement – and their supporters. That is, until the New Zealand government began to front up to the scars of colonialism from the later 1980s, and Parihaka became a focus of attention. As Rachel Buchanan notes in this rich and engaging exploration of what all this means, the NZ government apologised nine times between 1991 and 2018.
In exploring the historical circumstances and contemporary resonance of the attack on Parihaka, Buchanan raises an array of interlocking issues. Many are deeply personal, as a child of Taranaki – her father had links to many of the region’s iwi and she had kinfolk at the siege and in the passive resistance movement built around the town, yet she lives away and has only a limited grasp of the language and her relationships. Others are broader, on the continuing significance of both the event itself and broader processes of land alienation it was part of. Others grapple with contemporary policy, and the actions of the state. All these are rich, powerful and unsettling, disrupting historic and new myths.
Fascinating and evocative as these issues are, the richness of this (short) text for me lay in her discussion of the apologies as missing the point. The dominant language around and understanding of the act of apologising in these cases – we’ve also seen them, amongst others, in Canada regarding Residential Schools and Australia regarding the Stolen Generations of kids kidnapped into ‘care’ – is that it is about ‘restoring the honour of the Crown’. The critique that emerges from Buchanan’s case is that this approach continues to ‘do (de)colonisation’ on the colonisers’ terms, so misses the point.
The most compelling parts of this discussion turn on the question of Indigenous shame, the sense of whakamā that flows from loss – of land, of language, of resources, traditions and leaders, the shame that is caused by the condition of being colonised and the cultural genocide that flows from that. In making this case she is powerfully asserting that while it was the Crown that was ‘dishonourable’, the dishonouring was not its alone – and that the approach adopted fails to recognise, or come anywhere near addressing, the effects of its actions. She does not accuse the Crown of being self-interested or self-indulgent, but it is hard to see these actions in any other way – especially as she notes Ministers’ responses of ‘being hurt’ when Taranaki iwi refused to accept the 1991 apology.
Buchanan writes elegantly and evocatively of this loss, pain, shame and more, as well as of her engagement, discovery and place in this world. This is part of the impressive BWM Texts series, and comes highly recommended as a sharp commentary on history, the past, the present and the condition of coloniality. I found it richly compelling and nearly impossible to put down.
December 19, 2018
A well written account of the author's personal links with the history and present events involving Parihaka. Also includes a coverage of many of the key events in the history of Taranaki and its people.
December 25, 2022
This was very moving. A good mix of history and the author’s personal reflections. I definitely want to read more about Parihaka. There are a few things I learnt from this book that I will always remember now, for example, the location of Te Aro Pā. And I never knew that Te Aro meant ‘to turn towards (Taranaki)‘.
Side note but I wish these BWB books had photos in them!
Side note but I wish these BWB books had photos in them!
November 18, 2019
A very interesting and highly personal account of the apologies offered for the Parihaka invasion. For me the personal depth offered both added to and took away from the book; it added substance but also detracted from a broader history.
A very worthwhile read.
A very worthwhile read.
October 12, 2021
Personal and powerful. I took a big break in my reading, but it was very appropriate/challenging to pick it up again while tramping at Pouakai.
August 11, 2024
Great to learn the history of Parihaka
September 2, 2023
Poaaaaaaaanhhhhg.
December 25, 2018
A powerful and personal telling that for me revealed so much about the context and impact of this heartbreaking period in the colonisation and invasion of Aotearoa.
Along with this book, I recently read Ghost South Road. What struck me about both was how much they differed from the sort of history books you'd read in school; both are intensely personal and convey the impact of history by telling the personal aspect rather than the details.
Along with this book, I recently read Ghost South Road. What struck me about both was how much they differed from the sort of history books you'd read in school; both are intensely personal and convey the impact of history by telling the personal aspect rather than the details.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews