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What happened to March? My calendar accelerated and it just went. One minute I was planning for St Paddy’s Day and the next thing I know it’s been, gone, and done for. The ginko crop has been picked and dried. The grapes have swelled, ripened, and those not taken for the whanau tables are now wrinkling and shrivelling into sweet raisins. Our lifespan seems to be so short. I’ve a couple of stories to share, so lets cut to the chase. Wellington has been the geographic focus for much of my time, politics and politicians filling the void. The first big number was an international symposium on drug law, ‘Through the Maze –
Healthy Drug Law Reform’ –
held at Te Papa in early March. It was held as a precursor to a major meeting in Vienna where world authorities were to reconsider the ‘war on drugs’ in the light of a strong pitch from policy analysts and health professionals from many countries towards a more health related and harm-reduction focus.
Whatever. In the eventuality the UN has decided on ten more years of 'the
war on drugs'. I had been asked to make a presentation at the Te Papa forum. I enjoy these opportunities because it forces me to distil my thinking. I was on my way into the powhiri for the event when my phone went. It was Ranga. “I think the Doc is dying”. The Doc, Dr. Ian Ambrury Miller Prior, had been going downhill for sometime. I said, “Bro, I’ll get this powhiri out of the way then I’ll come up”. “No”, insisted Ranga, “he is going now. Pick me up”. When we arrived at the old
fella’s room at the hospice his daughters were around him. Roger Steele and Malcolm stood beside. The Doc was propped in his chair. He may still have been with us, it’s hard to tell, but we spoke to him, words of love, and affection, and thanks. A single tear trickled from his eye, and then, within a short time our uncertainty was relieved and the realisation that this grand old man had passed away fell upon us like a shroud, a funeral pall.
By his own description Ian’s strong sense of social equity and justice came from his Methodist background. There was Methodist to his madness. His father Norman Henry Prior left him three shibboleths to be applied according to the occasion.
He was faithful to them all. When we speak of Te Whiti we speak of Tohu. Similarly when we speak of Ian we speak too of Elespie. His love, his lover, his friend and anchor since their marriage on the 14th March 1946. Ian,
Elespie died almost six years ago (refer Nga Kupu Aroha “Embracing the Positive” December 2004 ) and from that time Ian was like a crab without a shell.
They are now reunited for eternity. It was these two who through intelligent and considered assistance fostered social change, actors, activists, and activities. Their sense of social justice – dangerous utopias – knew no bounds. Ian’s epistemological approach (epidemiology) was transdisciplinary before academics had coined the word. He fused his medicine with politics and social justice. He demonstrated to fellow Pakeha how to live out the promise of the Treaty, reaching out to the tribal hinterlands of Ngati Porou, and Ngai Tuhoe with his skills and intellect, collaborating with his Maori peers such as the rangatira John Rangihau. He took a regional approach, boarding the waka to Te Moananui a Kiwa with his friend and our kaumatua Henry Tuia, to share his learnings and improve the health of our brothers and sisters in the Pacific Islands. And, armed with insights gleaned from his field experience and research he stalked the corridors of power, Parliament and the rooms of the Wellington Club, challenging, cajoling,
persuading decision makers to implement socially just and effective policies. But the effort was not just confined to the hallowed halls. I believe that both Elespie and Ian implicitly understood that social change is fostered on the edge, not the centre. They applied the resources provided through the ‘noblesse oblige’ of Elespie’s tupuna, Willi Fels, to support the rebels and activists, people like Tame Iti
and Tama Poata who are critical to our nation building. Their courage and insight penetrated the darkness of social exclusion and embraced the people Hemi Baxter called the tribe of Nga Mokai, the lost and lonely, the addict and drunk, the prisoner and gang member.
Ian and Elespie saw potential where others saw only fault. They opened doors to another chance where others offered only a cell cage with no key. They seeded hope. When I went with Ian to the prisons he would say to the jailers, “where are the books?” He had no fear. The home at Wade St was as open to the gang member as it was to the Member of Parliament, in fact, in some instances, perhaps more so. When the Doc mixed on the street he was recognised, dapper, and commanding in bearing as rangatira so often are. It was cruel then to see our great chief and friend taken from us slowly, death working its way up his body, from the feet of the giant, upward, teasing him as God tested Job, reducing that powerful athletic frame, frustrating him, but not defeating him, his wit and perspicacity still sparking, a momentous project still on the go until God called it quits and asked for no more.
In the meantime, during the course of Ian’s rather extended tangi, the Healthy Drug Policy symposium at Te Papa churned on. I found the whole event really stimulating. Such was the quality of the presenters I expect the collective brainpower could have powered a small nuclear reactor. One speaker I took a real shine to was Sandeep Chawla, the Director of the Division for Policy Analysis and Public Affairs of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. Sandeep has one of those machine-like minds that churns through data like an icebreaker passing through an ice shelf. The way forward may seem impenetrable but he just keeps on trucking, breaking stuff up into bits you can deal with and giving at least a sense of the possibility of a way forward, given patience.
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We were blessed with a great day and a full house. The event started off by our taking our visitors up to Otatara. Nigel Hadfield gathered us together and took us through a protective karakia before we began. I’d organised some Irish musicians to lead the group onto the pa site.
At the top of the rise leading to that part we call Hikurangi, in between two pou, stood Shavaun, taking the role of kai karanga. She called out to us in the manner known to the hill and its descendants since ancient times. As the karanga rang out the musos ceased playing and the entire group paused. Behind the kai karanga stood a group of the young men of Waiohiki and as the karanga was completed they picked up the welcome with the Kahungunu haka, “Tika Tonu”. Done, they stepped back, and Shavaun motioned us to come forward. The Irish musos picked up their tune and up the path we went, over the rise and down to the ancient marae atea, where we had arranged seating.
Nigel told the group of tales of yore for the best part of
the hour, and then we were done, and back to the base of the Maunga where
we had our prayers of completion and thanks. Often people get overwhelmed
by Otatara, but in this instance the consensus was that the impact was one
of feeling located, anchored, at home. It seemed to me that in part this
was because we were accompanied by the musos. I think this gave those of
us who have come from the later canoes a sense of our own cultural roots,
rather than the nakedness many Pakeha feel when they encounter a place of
such a profound cultural strength. Back at the Arts Village
Chris Tremain cranked the auction up for all that it was worth, and some.
We sold $26,000 worth of art, quadruple our first efforts only three years
ago. The Governor General made a bid from a distance and scored a piece by
Mike O’Donnell; the Mad Butcher securing a beautiful work by Helen
Mason, and another by Martin Popplewell; Kevin Tamati outbidded his rivals
for Hugh Tareha’s taiaha piece, and Brian Sweeney won the race for Ranga
Tuhi’s awesome ‘Pou Tuarongo’ print. They flew, out the door, Jeff
Thompson, Dibble, Ben Pearce. What recession?
This is a korero focused on the future. A couple of weeks back I shared my thoughts with a number of Judges at a seminar organised by the Institute of Judicial Studies. I explained to the Judges that the general approach to gangs has generally been to undertake ethnographic study, and to extrapolate from trend data to discover what works, or might work. If you talk about gangs with the officials in our Crime Prevention Unit you might conclude that they follow Mortinson’s (1987) ‘nothing works’ hypothesis whereby the best we can get is ‘the least bad outcome’ through containment and suppression. If you talk with officials from Te Puni Kokiri you might conclude that anything can work as long as it assumes Maori potentiality, is run by Maori, and is consistent with the promises implicit in the Treaty of Waitangi. The real challenge is to move towards an effective prescription – the future “what must be done” to sidestep the much misunderstood deadly mixture of emotional and social forces that drive underprivileged young men into gangs, violence, crime, and ultimately imprisonment or death. I shared with them O'Reilly's lore: focus on the good; assume the best; and, you'll see it when you believe it. |
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As one Century passed to another it was a particular cluster of
Pakeha who were seen to be causing the trouble and these tended to be
Irish Catholics, who at the beginning of the 1900’s were imprisoned at a
ratio of 3:1 as compared to other New Zealanders, the same unhappy reality
faced by Maori communities today. Let us say that two successive World
Wars deployed the testosterone of the potentially troublesome youth
through to the late 40’s. The drinking culture brought back to New
Zealand by war veterans led to its own stresses and for the younger
veterans this morphed into the rebel motorcycle culture, still mainly
Pakeha groups. But a rapid, State sponsored, shift of young Maori families
from rural to urban New Zealand set in play a new dynamic. These whanau
were almost like immigrants in their own land. Work was plentiful, and, in
the main, people were gainfully occupied. Their youth, sharing a
gregarious culture and warrior instincts spilled out into the fresh
suburban landscape and the Maori gang was born. One of the paradoxes of
New Zealand is that gangs seem to form at times of high employment –
presumably because our low wage economy has both parents working and youth
are left to fend for themselves. The shift in the drinking culture after
the change to the liquor licensing laws and extended opening times
unleashed Jake the Muss and there was mass gang violence on a regular
basis at the large suburban barn type bars that had become popular by the
late 1970’s. A decade of good times and easy employment came to an end
with the oil shock and the recession. Structural reforms and high
unemployment led to increased involvement by gangs in crime. In the late
1980’s and early 1990’s the cessation of pro-active social development
programmes meant that gang members tended to pond, and not move in into
more socialised lifestyles as they had previously tended to do. The
definitional problem makes it a bit hard to measure but Police gang
intelligence figures submitted for various Parliamentary purposes over the
years indicate that there were about 2,000 to 2,500 gang members from the
late 1970’s through to the late 1980’s with a trend downward. However,
since then and after a decade of suppression policies and the post-Muldoon
‘we won’t make deals with gangs’ philosophy the numbers have
increased. In 2002 – perhaps when the political needs were for a bit of
hype and beat up, then Police Minister George Hawkins told Parliament that
in New Zealand there were 6,000 gang members with a multiplier of 5-10
affiliates and followers – the conclusion being that up to 60,000 New
Zealanders were involved in gangs. By 2007, perhaps at this point with a
political need to minimise concern, his successor Annette King told the
House that there were only 3,500 gang members and 40% were already in
jail. As an aside that’s about the entire number of outlaw motorcycle
gang members in the whole of Australia.
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