All are equal, but some are more equal than others

**Content warning: this post became something of a history lesson! Apologies in advance to those for whom this will be familiar. Read on though, the tree adds valuable observations.

It’s Waitangi Day today in Aotearoa (land of the long white cloud)/New Zealand. The anniversary of the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Treaty of Waitangi) in 1840 between the British Crown and around 500 rangatira Māori (chiefs). A quick overview for those not familiar with New Zealand history: The Treaty was intended to protect Māori interests, pave the way for British settlement, and establish a government to maintain peace and order. There were two versions; the English and Māori, which are not the same. This has led to ongoing debate about interpretations. The Treaty is widely considered our founding document, setting out a framework for the relationship between Māori and the Crown/NZ government.

Over the last 50 years, a set of guiding principles derived from the Treaty have developed through legislation, case law, and in settings such as health and welfare. I learned about the Treaty Principles as a psychologist working in child protection in the 1990s; Partnership, Protection and Participation. While developed for working with Māori, these were applied to our work with all peoples, ensuring a spirit of collaboration, involvement in decision-making that impact them, and a responsibility to actively protect people’s rights, culture and taonga (treasures). Some Māori don’t think these principles go far enough, for example, in not fulfilling the promise of Māori sovereignty as set out in the Māori version of Te Tiriti. A minor party of NZ’s coalition government, ACT, think they go too far and currently have a contentious Bill before Parliament proposing to rewrite the principles to confirm in law that all New Zealanders have “equal rights”, and that the NZ government will protect all New Zealanders’ “authority” over their land and property.

All this was on my mind as I went into the garden and walked around the tree. She’s enormous, gigantic, reaching for the stars. I’m in awe of her. It feels so incredible that she is on “our” land, in our garden. It feels surreal. Like we shouldn’t really “have” her. Of course, we don’t. That’s the irony of it – she’s not really “ours” and it’s not actually “our” land. In the modern Western world, we “own” the land, ha! Yes sure, but what does this mean? We paid for it; we have a certificate of title to prove it. No-one else can technically come onto our land without our permission – NO it’s ours!! Trespassers will be prosecuted.

I recall the Enclosures Acts from History lessons back in the day. Do children still learn about the Enclosures Acts in our New Zealand schools? A pity if they don’t because our legal and political systems are based on English law and politics, as applied in 1840 when the Treaty was signed. The Enclosures Acts in England had been passed between the 17^th and 19^th century by British Parliament. Open fields that had previously been considered common land had been enclosed and transferred into the ownership of wealthy landowners, who had the means to “buy” it and thereby control its use. The Acts meant many peasants no longer had a means of subsistence and they were forced to move to the towns, where they became workers supporting the new industrial system. Many of these workers, subject to poor conditions and low pay, subsequently migrated to New Zealand for a better life. Farm wages were also falling, and rural folk migrated too. These settlers were conditioned into an ownership paradigm and emulated it in the new world, seeking to fulfil dreams of land ownership. Vast swathes of trees were felled to clear land for settlement, farming, and for timber to build houses and infrastructure. About 90% of the settlers between 1840-1914 were born in Britain or Ireland, including my mother’s forebears from Lancashire in the north of England (my father came later from London, joining the NZ Airforce post-WW2). [Of note, in Aotearoa New Zealand we have embraced the Māori concept of whakapapa (genealogy, lineage); it is important to know who we are and where we’re from, allowing us to create links with one another and acknowledge our ancestry. I identify as Pākehā (European New Zealander)]

Meanwhile, Māori largely retained their traditional cultural values and practices, viewing land or whenua (which also means placenta) as a vital part of their identity, connected to their ancestors and the earth mother (Papatūānuku), rather than a possession. Iwi (tribes) or hapū (subtribe or clan) had occupied lands over generations, and they considered themselves “born of the land” with a responsibility to care for it as kaitiaki (guardians). The land provided sustenance and hospitality for guests. There were of course tribal battles over land, but this was as much about its deep cultural significance as the centre of their identity and ancestral heritage as it was about resources and sustenance. It was about belonging and responsibility to care for the land rather than ownership. So in a Māori worldview, a tree is not “theirs”, it is to be cared for. This is not to say that Māori didn’t cut down trees, but traditionally, before doing so they would perform a karakia (prayer) to ask permission from Tāne, the god of the forest. This showed respect for the tree and the natural world, and the practice was considered essential to maintain balance and avoid upsetting the spiritual connection with the forest.

What does this have to do with my conversation with the tree this afternoon? Well these thoughts all occurred before I even got to that point. I had been thinking about her lifetime over 600 years and what she might have experienced. According to legend, two great ocean-going Māori waka (canoes) arrived in the Hauraki Gulf about 600 to 700 years ago from Polynesia. Te Arawa canoe made landfall at the Putiki inlet, which we can see from our house on the south-eastern side of the island, and the Tainui canoe landed about the same time on the north-eastern corner. Our Pohutukawa tree would have been just a seedling. She’s been here almost as long as people, she hasn’t known a world without people.

Back to the present, I tried sitting on a branch that descends gracefully onto the ground. It was kind of uncomfortable, and I felt too far away from her beating heart. I walked around to the other side of her impressive trunk and felt impelled to climb up into the crook of the branches a few metres off the ground, so I could be closer and really feel her. I felt as awkward as the previous time I had climbed up – the grandchildren make it look so easy! Anyway, I managed to lodge myself between the rough old boughs, albeit rather precariously, used as I am to safe, comfy chairs. I felt her sadness again, but then a sense of gratitude. Was it her or me? I investigated further. The sense I had from her was that she was indeed grateful to be here, and for so long. She felt it was a privilege, and yet luck to some extent, because her twisted trunk and limbs had never been any good for ships’ spars, furniture or houses. She was still here not because humans valued her, but because we didn’t. That was a salutary lesson. I wasn’t sure whether it was going to be helpful or not if I said I would do my best to protect her because I didn’t think she’d believe me, or even trust me, despite my best intentions. We had already failed to protect her limb on a neighbour’s property from being severed with a chainsaw early one morning a couple of months previously. A story for another time. I am ashamed I couldn’t protect her, and nor did the fact she is a protected tree registered with the council. Why should she trust me?

As I sat quietly in her branches, a sense of peace started to come over me. Ahhh. The peace of ages. Then, with the Treaty still on my mind, I asked her what she made of the concept of equality. She said, it’s in the eye of the beholder, and in the experience of the recipient. Wow, this made so much sense. Is a beneficiary equal to a billionaire? A colonised people to colonisers? The ACT party would like to treat both the same, but surely these groups are not starting from an equal base. I thought of George Orwell’s Animal Farm: “All animals are equal but some are more equal than others”. The pigs who control the government in the novel claim to be equal, but in reality give power to a small elite. The tree continued, we trees may all be equal in the eyes of nature, but some of us are more resilient than others, some have better soil, sun, and rainfall. Our experience is different; some of us may need more support from other trees to survive and thrive. I’d read about this, how the roots of trees are interconnected by a network of fungi in the soil and are able to transfer nutrients, water, and even warning signals to neighbouring trees. https://e360.yale.edu/features/exploring_how_and_why_trees_talk_to_each_other

This sounds a bit like partnership, protection and active participation to me. Maybe we are onto something with our original Treaty Principles. The tree certainly thinks so.

Thank you for joining us in this conversation. The tree of few and yet profound words, and me, rambling over history and literature, trying to make sense of our complex, divisive, and exploitative modern human world, plagued by a disconnection from nature. This is a journey of understanding another perspective. Maybe this is the way forward for humanity and the planet? Talking with a tree… it’s a start.

I’d love to hear about your experiences of talking with trees. Or if you’ve never tried it, what do you make of the idea?

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