The court could end up in private hands; it may yet become a restaurant, after all. Photo / file
Some wanted it replaced with a students' centre. Others were thinking of a cafe, perhaps with inner city apartments. Kaumātua thought it should be demolished outright, a relic of the past deserving of no place in the present.
But the Native Land Court Building is still there, saved from destructionby a heritage listing. Now in urgent need of priming and painting, the building's future seems assured.
But when the refurbishing is finished, the building will be on-sold, generating more funds to purchase more heritage buildings. The court could end up in private hands; it may yet become a restaurant, after all.
Kaumātua may rue such developments, wishing the building nothing less than a perfunctionary demise. It's not hard to see why.
Established in 1862, the Native Land Court possessed a single function – the extinguishing of Māori property titles. And with the land went the anchorage of the culture. Māori losses – and suffering – at so many levels was egregious, and long-lasting. The legacy of the court therefore encapsulates destruction, redistribution of wealth and colonial empowerment.
So moved by all this, legal scholar David V. Williams wrote his book Te Kooti Tango Whenua. The Land Taking Court in 1999. Williams used his book to mount the case for a Waitangi Tribunal investigation into the Native Land Court.
He itemised in great detail the court's deliberations, explaining the court's accompanying and iniquitous jurisprudence.
Politicians and judges worked together, establishing "a skeleton of collusion". As Hugh Kawharu argues, it's a grim history, with government policy and judicial practice harnessed to undermine tribal integrity.
If heritage is about preserving the values of the past in material form for future generations, then perhaps kaumātua are right – we should not be preserving the Native Land Court.
Opening the old Native Land Court building to a new light of day will undoubtedly come with its challenges. Like any artefact, we all interpret buildings differently, projecting the past into the present.
However, since Williams' book was published, an extensive literature on the court has emerged. And research is continuing, bringing the massively-complex operations of the court into the light of day. Historical research is about discovery. As knowledge develops, so does enlightenment.
These days, proponents of heritage studies seem inclined to take such discoveries and research on board. And now, at a time when post-settlement Māori are experiencing economic development, social cohesion and cultural regeneration, kaumātua may have a change of heart.
Like old battlefields, old sites of grim historical contest like the Native Land Court Building can be seen differently. The court might be remembered as a place where revered tūpuna spoke, presenting their whakapapa and histories, asserting and maintaining their mana, all faithfully recorded in minute books.
Refurbished, repainted and opened to the air, a new Native Land Court Building might advance knowledge and understanding; and as enlightenment grows, our city benefits.
• Dr Danny Keenan (Te Ātiawa) is a Māori historian who lives in Whanganui. His PhD examined the operations of the Native Land Court in Taranaki after the Land Wars.