January/February 2005

Nonviolence in the arena

Te Whiti: Maori Prophet of Nonviolence

By Walter Wink

The “discovery” of “New Zealand” and its large-scale colonization led to the seizure of Maori land in the name of the British crown. Dispossessed from their hereditary holdings, the Maori were left with relatively small enclaves similar to the “reservations” of the American “Indians.” Hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, one group of Maori adopted what may have been one of the earliest examples of large-scale sustained nonviolent resistance, a full two generations before Gandhi. The Maori could have mounted a suicidal, even genocidal struggle (that was the goal of many of the European settlers: to annihilate the natives). Or they could have abdicated their rights to the land, surrendered without a fight, and become a servant class (assuming that the whites would stop short of genocide). The temptation of Maoris to fight must have been extraordinary, since courage and proficiency in combat were vital to the male concept of mana. But under the guidance of their prophet, Te Whiti-o-Rongomai, a third way was found, for which the Europeans had no comprehension.

 The Maori simply began to live as if the war was over and they had repossessed their land. From daylight to dark, the Maori plowed land that was legally theirs but had been seized by the settlers. Always they were unarmed, good-tempered—and firm. “I will not resist the soldiers if they come,” Te Whiti said. “I would gladly let them crucify me,” revealing his knowledge of Jesus, thanks to missionaries who had themselves missed Jesus' nonviolent message. Tohu, Te Whiti’s co-prophet, declared, “Even if the bayonet come to your breast, do not resist.” They came to their work dressed in their finest clothing, rejoicing that they would be arrested. They insisted, in a rare refusal of “reverse racism,” that they loved the white people very much, but that they intended to hold the land.

 Finally, in June, 1879, the heavily reinforced armed constabulary began arresting the plowmen. They found the plowing parties unarmed, unresisting, and quite unimpressed. They went off to jail cheerfully, even gladly, as many as thirty-three in one day, and as fast as they went others took their place plowing. By August the number of men arrested had reached 200.

 Frustrated, the whites attacked Te Whiti’s village, only to be met by a feast and a shower of gifts, including 500 loaves of bread. The Maori presented the commander, Colonel Roberts, with fifty kits of potatoes, three geese, twenty fowls, a turkey, and a fat bullock. But the Europeans missed the message: hospitality is only offered by the owner of the house, and the Maori were the owners of the house. In a change of tactics, the Maori began to plow up the roads by which the whites were able to penetrate Maori territory, and to repair the fences that marked stolen Maori lands. In the showdown, fifty-nine men accompanied by thirty-two boys and two thousand women and children went straight to the fences. Each time the constabulary advanced to destroy their work the Maori clung to the stakes and had to be dragged off by force. Even when hurled to the ground they picked themselves up and continued work without a backward glance at their assailants.

 The men were all arrested. Next, very old men and boys were arrested, then young children, then women, until all but a few survivors had been detained. These last continued to march out daily. Most fearsome were “the cicadas,” a party of a hundred small children. They too marched the length of the road, fearlessly chanting as they passed under the eyes of the constabulary, and there constructed a tiny fence. An astute reporter commented, “A cat could have pushed it down and an elephant gone through without breaking a twig. As a fence their structure was an utter failure although viewed as an act of defiance it was perfect.”

 Finally, the whites had had enough. On November 5, 1881, a force of armed settlers marched on Parihaka, Te Whiti’s “village of peace.” As the army approached, they found their way completely blocked by two hundred half-naked little children. In the face of the troops they calmly chanted songs and spun tops. Behind them groups of older girls, skipping in unison, marked the second line of defense. The constabulary marched straight at the children, wheeling sharply only at the last moment when it was clear that they would hold their ground. The cavalry was brought in to clear a path. But as the troops reached the front ranks their horses shied away. The next rank, the women, maintained immovable silence in the face of soldiers threatening to cut their heads off with their swords.

 The rest of the people sat in the center of the village, some 2,200 strong, completely surrounded, completely silent, for over an hour. Having lost their thirst for blood, the constabulary arrested Te Whiti and the rest of the men.

 Four hundred twenty-four men were imprisoned, most of them for two years, under extreme hardship. Not one agreed to conditional release. Finally, on June 19, 1881, all came marching home, bearing a chief’s white feather in their hair. They had survived. Te Whiti addressed his people: “Now all war is abolished by this small people collected before me…. You were sent as a mark and as a sign for all people that war and evil contention is finished, never to return.” “I did not give a sword into your hands, or a gun, or any other weapon, but I simply recommended forbearance and a passive bearing, and by these you have conquered all evil things.” And again: “If any man thinks of his gun or his horse, and goes to fetch it, he will die by it…place your trust in forbearance and peace…let the booted feet come when they like, the land shall remain firm for ever…The future is mine.”

 Reminiscent of the removal of Te Whiti from his village of peace, Parihaka, in 1881, Joe Hawke in 1977 led supporters onto Maori land confiscated by the government and occupied it for 506 days. They too were finally removed by a massive police and army operation. The struggle still goes on. Today Maoris are playing a central role in the revival of indigenous cultures, languages, and religions the world around.

From Ask That Mountain: The Story of Parihaka, by Dick Scott (Auckland: Reed/Southern Cross, 2004). I have let the author speak in his own words as much as possible. Collateral resources are: Maori: A Photographic and Social History, rev. ed., Michael King (Auckland: Reed Books, 1996), 42; Days of Darkness: Taranaki 1878-1884, Hazel Riseborough, rev. ed. (Auckland: Penguin Books, 2002); and The Oxford Illustrated History of New Zealand ed. by Keith Sinclair, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).