BRETT GRAHAM Written on the Wind
When I went to school, in the twentieth century, we weren’t taught New Zealand history. I remember studying the histories of England, Europe, and Japan, but not of New Zealand. Like many Pākehā, I grew up in a convenient state of cultural and political amnesia. It wouldn’t be until I was an adult that I’d learn about the New Zealand Wars (1845–72) and the myriad mechanisms by which Māori had been separated from their lands. Discovering that – the detail of it – was disorienting.
Such ignorance was symptomatic and systemic. In the introduction to his 2019 book The New Zealand Wars | Ngā Pakanga O Aotearoa, Vincent O’Malley writes: “The wars loom large in the national narrative, but we have not always cared to remember or acknowledge them. For much of the period from 1872, most Pākehā clung to a highly romanticised version of these wars that emphasised mutual chivalry and heroism, avoiding more disturbing truths. When this position was no longer tenable, many simply chose to ignore them altogether.”
These days, as the Wars and their legacy move to front of mind, the past floods the present. Old markers and memorials cease to feel quaint, and previously benign street names – Cook Street,
