Rob Campbell is a professional director and investor. He is chancellor at AUT, chair of Ara Ake, chair of NZ Rural Land and former chair of Te Whatu Ora.
OPINION
These days we commonly prioritise profits and politicians over prophets. My own preference is to prioritise people and planet but there is no question in my mind that we lose something when we forget prophets.
What we lose is vision and inspiration and often with those goes hope and purpose. Even when we look backwards, we allow our stories to be told in terms which overlook the role of belief, emotion, and philosophy in favour of material, military, and political events. That is not how we always and everywhere experience life.
I picked up and read The Forgotten Prophet by Jeffrey Sissons last week by chance (or was it?). This intriguing story of Tāmati Te Ito and the Kaingārara movement has made me think more deeply about how and which stories motivate us. It is not a well-known story outside of the Māori world and perhaps then mainly within Taranaki.
Te Ito was a tohunga matakite with recognised prophetic skill in the 1850s and 1860s who was an advisor to Te Atiawa rangatira Rangitāke, but whose influence was felt throughout the region. He led a movement which initiated a fiery process of physically and philosophically eliminating tapu objects and their associated (often reptilian) atua which were holding back a form of Christian order. Complex to say the least in association as it was with a strong principle of uniting Taranaki iwi against land sales and expropriation.
He was not universally popular and widely regarded as a dangerous fanatic amongst settlers, military and Pākeha politicians for obvious reasons. He was a significant player in Taranaki resistance at the time. That role has not been fully captured in modern historiography.
Simon and Garfunkel lyrics that “the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls Photo / AP
It seems to me that part of the reason for that is that there is a preference for events and for significant influences to be rendered simpler than they really are. Complex characters and themes are seen as diversions for understanding the process of change and of history. In taking that view we miss so much. Not only the devil is in the detail.
We can see much of this playing out in Aotearoa at present. Certainly in “te ao Pākehā” I get an awful lot of confusion about the strengthening of Māori expressions of mana motuhake and rangitiratanga. Obviously, there are many amongst us who recognise and welcome this. There the risks are arrogance and over-confidence about understanding. We find it easier to respond to a simplified, even sanitised, view of te ao Māori.
This tendency deepens when fear and/or racism take over. I am often told for example that “not all Māori agree with….[eg Te Pāti Māori]”. This is, of course, no shock to anyone least of all Te Pāti Māori. But neither is it an answer to whichever view is being criticised. Complexity, diversity, even conflict is part of humanity, but they are not excuses for repression or dispossession.
Professional director Rob Campbell. Photo / Michael Craig
We might also recall the Simon and Garfunkel lyrics that “the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls”. Nowadays and here on the placards, songs, speeches and posts that surround us.
Some of what Tāmati Te Ito advocated seems strange to the modern Pākehā. But the important thing is that it resonated with his people in his time and circumstance. We should not be quick to write people out of history or currency because we find their ideas strange or simply too challenging.
