Polynesia, 900–1600 9781641892155

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Polynesia 900–1600 Madi Williams

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Contents

List of Illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix Introduction: Peoples, Geography, and Time . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Chapter 1. Movement and Migration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Chapter 2. Adaptation and Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Chapter 3. Complexity and Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Further Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

List of Illustrations

Map 1. The three culture areas of the Pacific—Polynesia, Micronesia and Melanesia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Map 2. Tuki-Tahua (Chart of New Zealand drawn by Tooke-Titter-a-nui Wari-pedo, a priest of that country who resided on Norfolk Islands 6 months). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

Preface

Upon first glance, this book may seem like an odd fit—Polynesia and the Middle Ages. Because the Middle Ages are a European phenomenon surely? While this is true, much is lost by limiting our perspective to one continent. Europe is not the natural centre of the world it has been constructed as, not least by historians. This book therefore attempts to present the views and understandings of the South Polynesians between 900 and 1600 CE. One of the tribes I descend from is one of the first groups to inhabit the northern South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand: Ko Ngāti Kuia, he iwi Pakohe, he iwi karakia e (Ngāti Kuia, the tribe of Pakohe [argillite], the tribe of prayer). I also descend from Ngāti Apa ki te Rā Tō, Rangitāne o Wairau, and Ngāti Koata, in the northern South Island. It is from my position as an Indigenous woman working in contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand that this work emerges. What follows is intended to provide a short, useful overview of the history of South Polynesia for both the general reader and scholar. It is not intended to be a scientific exercise, which will become clear as the reader progresses through the chapters. Through this work, I aim to give an innovative and unique perspective on South Polynesian history. I hope it encourages the reader to think about regions outside Europe during this period. I also implore the reader to re-evaluate any preconceptions they may have about Polynesia. As one would expect, although the themes and perspec-

x  Preface tives are different to those of the European Middle Ages, they are no less valid. Lastly, it must be noted that this is a new and (it is to be hoped) burgeoning field of research. Material artefacts and literary records are thus far limited, and we can perhaps expect new discoveries that upend the timeline for South Polynesian voyaging and settlement. Similarly, given the brevity of this volume, I cannot cover everything, and the bib­liog­raphy points the reader towards further research into each theme covered. Kia heke iho rā i ngā tūpuna, kātahi ka tika If handed down by the ancestors, then it would be correct

Preface  xi

Tāne and the Baskets of Knowledge Tēnei au te hōkai nei o taku tapuwae | This is   the journey of sacred footsteps Ko te hōkai nuku ko te hōkai rangi | Journeyed   about the earth journeyed about the heavens Ko te hōkai a tō tupuna a Tānenui-a-rangi | The   journey of the ancestral god Tānenuiarangi Ka pikitia ai ki te rangi tūhāhā ki te Ti   hi-o-Manono | Who ascended into the heav   ens to Te Tihi-o-Manano Ka rokohina atu rā ko Te Matu-kore anake | Where he found the parentless source Ka tīkina mai ngā kete o te wānanga | From   there he retrieved the baskets of knowledge Te kete-tuauri Te kete-tuatea Te kete-aronui Ka tiritiria ka poupoua | These were distributed   and implanted about the earth Ka puta mai iho ko te ira tangata | From which   came human life Ki te wheiao ki te ao mārama | Growing from   dim light to full light Tihei-mauri ora! | There was life.1

1  Author unknown, iwi (tribe) unknown. “Ranginui—the sky— Ranginui as knowledge and life,” Te Ara—The Encyclopedia of New Zealand, www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/ranginui-the-sky/page-2.

Introduction

Peoples, Geography, and Time

The global turn in history from the late twentieth century onwards has led to a fascinating corpus of work. In recent years, there has been an increasing amount of research on the concept of the “Global Middle Ages” with it featuring as a major theme of conferences. The Middle Ages is a notoriously Eurocentric field and it has been (wrongly) appropriated by certain hate groups who believe it embodies their desire for a white, Christian, largely male-dominated society. Attempts to globalize the Middle Ages remain somewhat inevitably Eurocentric, whether in focus or by taking the categories that define the European Middle Ages and trying to apply them to non-European cultures. This need not be the case, as medievalists often pride themselves on their ability to understand societies and cultures alien to their own by viewing the Middle Ages from the perspective of those living in the period. These skills of understanding different perspectives could be applied to other regions and cultures. All that is required is an open mind and a recognition of the fundamental concepts that underpin non-European perspectives. Critical to a global approach is the need to gain an understanding from the perspective of a particular region and culture. Efforts and explicit acknowledgements have been made of the need to incorporate other perspectives, but generally this is limited to Africa and the Americas. Despite these intentions, too often the rich histories of these places have been generalized, oversimplified, and they remain influenced by

2  Introduction the Western gaze, while certain areas of the globe remain under-represented or even wholly ignored. For instance, Polynesia has remained largely on the periphery of global history. When it has featured, it has been portrayed in a simplistic and all-encompassing manner that is inaccurate. The real challenge of global history is to write from other perspectives, not write about other places from your own particular world view. It is only through this approach that any depth of understanding can be gained. This book therefore attempts to show how South Polynesians viewed their world from 900 to 1600 CE. The term Polynesia is itself a Western label and an artificial construct. Just as time periods are constructed, so too are geographical spaces. The term “Polynesia” is derived from the Greek words “poly,” meaning many, and “nesia” for island. Polynesia is used to identify the region in the Polynesian Triangle with the points made up of Rapa Nui (Easter Island) off the coast of Chile, Hawaii, and Aotearoa New Zealand, as well as its outlier islands. The Pacific was divided into Polynesia, Melanesia, and Micronesia by the French navigator Jules Sebastian Dumont d’Urville in the nineteenth century. The terms “near” and “remote Oceania” have also been employed as alternative labels by some. While there are some cultural and ancestral similarities between the areas, the label Polynesia is a homogenous term developed by Europeans and does not represent the perspectives of Polynesian groups. This is representative of a European tendency to label geographic areas and the peoples that inhabit them and for these to become the dominant terms. A similar phenomenon has occurred in the case of Africa and how it is perceived: Africa itself is a Western construct. As noted by Kenyan academic Ali Mazrui, “It took European conceptualization and cartography to turn Africa into a continent.”1 This means that attempts to bring Africa into global 1  Ali Mazrui quoted in Robin Derricourt, Inventing Africa: History, Archaeology and Ideas (London: Pluto, 2011), vi, 1.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  3

history are often hindered by preconceptions. For global histories of Africa to bring about the desired impact of conveying other voices and perspectives into historiography, there first needs to be an understanding of the complexity of identities that exist there. The same need applies in the case of Polynesia. Polynesia is divided into three general regions: west, east, and south. Western Polynesia consists of Tonga, Samoa, Futuna, and ‘Uvea (Wallis) and was the first part of Polynesia to be inhabited. Eastern Polynesia was the next to be inhabited and is made up of Hawaii, Tahiti, the Marquesas Islands, the Cook Islands, the Austral Islands, the Tuamotus, and Rapa Nui. South Polynesia was the final region of Polynesia to be inhabited and is made up of Aotearoa New Zealand, Rēkohu (Chatham Islands), and the Auckland Islands. Rēkohu lies to the southeast of Aotearoa New Zealand’s capital city, Wellington, and the Auckland Islands are located south of the South Island. The people of these three regions, while in some ways culturally similar, developed in markedly divergent ways. As the Polynesian voyagers dispersed and migrated to new regions over the course of centuries, unique identities and cultures emerged. These identities are not homogenous and to treat them as such would be inaccurate and would continue the trend of dominating “Other” voices. This is why this work does not attempt to cover “Polynesia” as a whole but rather focuses on the major South Polynesian regions and Rapa Nui Easter Island, which makes more sense culturally, as we will see later. There is a dearth of information on the Auckland Islands and, although it is certainly an area which deserves more research, it is outside the scope and constraints of this particular work.

Space An eighteenth-century map provides useful insight into the world views and perceptions of space held by the South Polynesians. Tuki Tahua was a chief from Te Tai Tokerau, the Northland region of Aotearoa New Zealand. He was taken

4  Introduction

Map 1. The three culture areas of the Pacific—Polynesia, Micronesia and Melanesia. Note that Indigenous names are used throughout the present text for Easter Island (Rapa Nui), New Zealand (Aotearoa New Zealand) and Chatham Islands (Rēkohu). (CartoGIS Services, College of Asia and the Pacific, The Australian National University.)

Peoples, Geography, and Time  5

Map 2. Tuki-Tahua (Chart of New Zealand drawn by Tooke-Tittera-nui Wari-pedo, a priest of that country who resided on Norfolk Islands 6 months). Cartographic material. Ref: 830ap [1793] (1804). Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

6  Introduction by the European crew on the ship HMS Daedalus against his will in 1793 to teach weaving to the convicts held on Norfolk Island. While on Norfolk Island he also created a map, first in dirt and then on paper, for the governor of New South Wales.2 Tahua’s map is a clear example of how the perception of space held by Māori differed from that of Europeans. In this depiction, Tahua has shown his knowledge of the two main islands of Aotearoa New Zealand. It is primarily focused on the top of the North Island with a high level of detail. The areas given the most attention are those that had meaning for and were well known by Tahua. Another key feature of the map is that a track is depicted through the middle of the island, which is the pathway for souls to take to Cape Reinga upon death. It is believed that after death spirits take a path known as Te Ara Tapu through the North Island to Te Rerenga Wairua/Cape Reinga at the top of the island, from where they depart. Tuki’s map offers useful insight into the subjective and relational nature of knowledge. Early twentieth-century ethnographer Johannes Andersen pointed this out: “Two places would probably be shewn [sic] on a sketch as close together if the journey between them could be made quickly, or far apart if the journey were difficult or occupied a lengthy space of time. Again, a good harbour would be shewn larger than a poor one, their relative importance rather than their relative size being indicated.”3 While in the modern Western view map-making was a thoroughly objective activity, the task being to depict geography accurately to scale, Māori perceptions were subjective and experiential. To give another example, raro is the Māori for “north” and “below,” and the word runga is translated as “south” and “above.” The reason for this is that early migra2  Judith Binney, “Tuki’s Universe,” in Judith Binney Essays 1975–2010: Stories Without End, ed. Judith Binney (Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2010), 44–61.

3  Johannes C. Andersen, Jubilee History of South Canterbury (Auck­ land: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1916), 39.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  7

tion in Aotearoa New Zealand was typically southwards; therefore, where they had come from was behind them (the north), and where they were going to was ahead of them (the south). What is important to take from this example is that perceptions of space such as that of Tahua are not unsophisticated, they are just alien to European understandings. The measuring sticks and priorities are simply different. When this is taken into account, Māori and Polynesian worlds are easier to understand. With this in mind, and for the purposes of this book, the names used by the Indigenous inhabitants of their respective areas will be employed. In the case of New Zealand, Aotearoa New Zealand will be used, as the Māori and English versions are both common. The Indigenous peoples are now primarily known as “Māori” with the European arrivals known as “Pākehā.” While the term “Māori” will often be used throughout the text, I would ask the reader to keep in mind some of the intricacies surrounding this labelling. Māori is a European construct, and prior to European arrival it was a non-existent grouping, with tribal groups known as iwi and sub-tribal groups known as hapū being the key identities. The term Māori simply means “normal” or “ordinary.” The homogenous label has often been criticized for not accurately reflecting the intricacies of Māori identity, or rather identities. The primary basis for the criticism is that it is a term employed by the colonizers to unite the tribes into a homogenous people, because in the words of the contemporary Māori scholar John Rangihau, “if you cannot divide and rule, then for tribal people all you can do is unite them and rule. Because then they lose everything by losing their own tribal histories and traditions that give them their identity.”4 This homogenizing of culture also occurred to the Indigenous peoples of the Chatham Islands, the Moriori, whose tribal differences were ignored. The Chatham Islands comprises four islands, but Rēkohu, the Indigenous name for the 4  John Rangihau, “Being Maori,” in Te Ao Hurihuri: Aspects of Maoritanga, ed. Michael King (Auckland: Reed, 1992), 233.

8  Introduction largest island will be used as it is often applied to the entirety of the Chatham Islands. This name is that used by the Moriori and means “misty sky or misty sun” (Maui Solomon in King, Moriori, 9). The name Rapa Nui will be employed to refer to Easter Island, as this is how it is known by its Indigenous inhabitants. Following the method adopted by Beverley Haun in her work on Rapa Nui, when referring to the land Rapa Nui will be used, whereas when referring to the inhabitants the term Rapanui will be employed. Again the English names were constructed by European arrivals and do not represent the perspectives of the inhabitants. However, it is necessary to point out that during the time period in question there were often no names for what are now nations or parts of nations. For instance, the name Rapa Nui emerged in the nineteenth century in consultation with other Polynesian groups and has become the name used by Rapanui people. Prior to this, the island did not have a name for its entirety because there was simply no need, although the name “Te Pito O Te Henua” was used before European contact, meaning the “centre of the world and the end of the earth.” The decision to use these names is conscious: these are living cultures and how they identify their lands and selves in the contemporary world is just as important as how they did so historically (Haun, Inventing “Easter Island”, 5). Perhaps a useful point of comparison for medieval scholars is the labelling of “Vikings.” Similar to the use of “Māori,” “Viking” was an externally applied label rather than a self-identification. The term is derived from the Old Norse words víkingr and víking, meaning “pirate or raider” and “raiding expedition” respectively. It is also known in Old English as wicing. However, as with the term “Māori,” it is an all-encompassing term that generalizes the variety of identities present. In reality, the majority of the so-called “Viking” peoples were engaged in agriculture and domestic undertakings, rather than continually raiding, as the popular narrative implies. Although it is a convenient umbrella term, it must be remembered that it is an imposed label and not a wholly accurate one.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  9

South Polynesia and the Middle Ages? There has been some recent acknowledgment of Australasian perspectives and experiences of the global Middle Ages.5 This is the result of discoveries of connections with other parts of the world, which is one approach to the global Middle Ages. The other principal approach is a comparative one, which is the approach taken in this book. While some comparisons will be explicitly made, it is primarily intended to outline what was occurring in South Polynesia during the European Middle Ages, and the reader will be able to draw their own comparisons with their work or area of interest. The issue of periodization has been acknowledged in the literature on the global Middle Ages, and its applicability has been questioned. Attempting to enforce European time periods on non-European cultures and regions can be problematic, particularly as not all cultures conform to Western time divisions, let alone historical periods. This book examines South Polynesia and Rapa Nui in the period equivalent to the European Middle Ages, but of course in South Polynesia there is no “Middle Ages”; it is a concept that depends on a wholly European perspective. As noted by Louise D’Arcens regarding the Australian context, the concept of the Middle Ages is “patently oxymoronic” and “deluded.”6 As is well known, historical divisions are not naturally occurring and should be understood as constructed. Therefore, this work will attempt to present South Polynesia in the time period of the European Middle Ages, but temporal boundaries will be disregarded when they need to be. It aims to present South Polynesian understandings of this period alongside Western understandings, and in a decidedly Western, written format. It is intended to foster a sense of curiosity regarding 5  Sahar Amer, Hélène Sirantoine, and Esther S. Klein, “Translating Medieval Cultures across Time and Place: A Global Perspective,” Parergon 35 (2018): 1–5 at 1.

6  Louise D’Arcens, “The Past Is a Foreign Country: The Australian Middle Ages,” Revista de poética medieval 21 (2008): 319–56 at 319.

10  Introduction other perspectives and develop an understanding of South Polynesian perceptions of the past. What follows will outline why this work is focused primarily on the southern areas of Polynesia, the key reasons being broadly cultural and geographic similarities, climate, and existing research. When Europeans first encountered Polynesian societies, a frequent observation was that the languages seemed to be remarkably similar. Despite their subsequent hypothesis that it was a single language being incorrect, the languages do belong to the same family; the overall group is known as the Austronesian language family, and the Polynesian languages are part of the sub-group known as Oceanic. The Polynesian grouping is made up of Tongic, Nuclear Polynesian, Samoic-Outlier, Eastern Polynesian, and Central Eastern Polynesian. The languages of South Polynesia have some striking similarities. A recent study has concluded that the Moriori and Māori languages have around a 70 percent similarity and the Moriori and Rapanui languages are about 22 percent similar. This is remarkable given the distance, particularly of the latter two, between these locations. There are many examples of the similarities in these languages. For instance, the word for mountain is maunga for both Māori and Moriori and ma’unga for Rapanui. Similarly, the word for sacred in all three languages is tapu.7 The similarities should not be overstated and there is also a range of dialectical differences even within one language. These were oral cultures and written forms of the languages only took place after contact with Europeans. The case of Rapa Nui is unique in this sense, as it was here that the only Polynesian form of written culture emerged. It is known as Rongorongo and it comprises rows of hieroglyphs. Haun gave a detailed description of the system, explaining that “you need to imagine that you are holding a tablet of 7  Rhys Richards, “Moriori Language: Word Cognates with Maori, Easter Island and Old Rurutu Vocabularies,” in Moriori: Origins, Lifestyles and Language, ed. Rhys Richards (Wellington: Paremata, 2018): 215–60.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  11

wood perhaps forty-five centimetres long and twelve wide […]. Each drawing seems to represent a word or idea rather than an alphabetical phoneme.” Tragically, after European contact with Rapa Nui many of the tablets were destroyed and although the language can still be written it is no longer fully understood (Haun, Inventing “Easter Island”, 262). Despite the similarities between the Polynesian regions, the importance of cultural differences should not be underestimated. Although there are marked variances between West and East Polynesia, even greater differences separate these two regions from South Polynesia. South Polynesia is unique, and it would not do justice to South Polynesia, or indeed the rest of Polynesia, to attempt to cover it in its entirety in this monograph. For instance, while the East and West regions have tropical climates, South Polynesia has a temperate climate. The temperate climate was a defining factor, because it required extreme levels of innovation from the Polynesian arrivals and influenced the development of unique economies. Although Rapa Nui is not geographically part of South Polynesia—in fact, it is the eastern-most island of Polynesia—it is included in this book for a number of reasons. Firstly, there are some interesting similarities between Rapa Nui, Rēkohu, and Aotearoa New Zealand. Secondly, it provides an interesting comparison to the other areas because it is sub-tropical and therefore has a warmer climate than Aotearoa New Zealand and the rest of South Polynesia. Lastly, it is widely considered to be one of the most remote islands, with its closest neighbour Chile nearly four thousand kilometres to the east, which makes it a fascinating case of adaptation and development. One of the other key factors in determining the unique nature of South Polynesia is its size. South Polynesia makes up 94 percent of Polynesia’s overall land mass and was home to nearly a quarter of the Polynesian population historically (Anderson, The First Migration, 49). The North and South islands of Aotearoa New Zealand alone are over 250,000 square kilometres, which means that these two islands have a greater area than the rest of Polynesia combined (Bellwood, The Poly-

12  Introduction nesians, 130). The large size of Aotearoa New Zealand also provides an interesting case of environmental variation as a result of the climate, with temperatures in the north being significantly higher than in the south. On a more practical note, there has been a significant amount of research done on Aotearoa New Zealand’s early history and there is comprehensive archaeological scholarship which has enabled researchers to obtain reasonably accurate estimates of the settlement dates for each area of South Polynesia. The dating of the migrations has been one of the most contentious issues in the historiography. The estimated dates underwent a series of changes throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, often based on dubious evidence and unreliable interpretations of oral traditions. It is now generally agreed that the settlement of South Polynesia began with Aotearoa New Zealand in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and ended with the settlement of Rēkohu at the beginning of the sixteenth century. Although there is disagreement around the settlement date for Rēkohu, with some scholars arguing that it was inhabited around 900 CE, it is most likely that the migration occurred from mainland Aotearoa New Zealand. However, it is at least possible that migration occurred directly from East Polynesia. In contrast, Rapa Nui is thought to have been settled at the earlier date of around 700 CE to 800 CE, although more recent evidence suggests that it may not have been settled until the eleventh or twelfth century.

Historiography From the beginning of European contact with South Polynesia in 1642 there was widespread interest in learning about the peoples who lived there. This led to a variety of historiographical and anthropological approaches, which have at times been problematic. A widespread belief existed in the nineteenth century that Indigenous peoples were dying out as a result of colonization and there was a drive to collect as much information

Peoples, Geography, and Time  13

as possible before the inevitable happened. To illustrate the pervasiveness of this idea, in Aotearoa New Zealand a politician in 1856 stated that the Europeans must “smooth down [... the] dying pillow” of the Māori.8 Therefore, early Aotearoa New Zealand ethnographers, such as Stephenson Percy Smith, Elsdon Best, Edward Tregear, John White, and George Grey collected any and all available information. These ethnographers spoke and worked with Māori when collecting information. Often they would pay their informants to write manuscripts in te reo Māori (the Māori language), which had developed into written form using the Roman alphabet after European contact and beginning in the eighteenth century. (The first encounter with Europeans was in 1642, but regular contact did not begin until 1769.) In 1892 the Polynesian Society and Journal of the Polynesian Society were founded by Smith and Tregear as a repository for this research. It was a similar situation on Rapa Nui where ethnographers arrived from the 1880s. Some of the key ethnographers there included W. J. Thomson, Katherine Routledge, and S. Englert who gathered information from people living on Rapa Nui and created vital resources. Before some of the weaknesses and biases of these sources are discussed, the complexities of the situation should be acknowledged. Despite their shortcomings, these sources play a vital role and without them a significant amount of knowledge would have been lost through the effects of European colonization. Questions regarding reliability primarily emerge from the subsequent interpretation of the source material once it was collected by these early European scholars. The material that has been retained verbatim is often accurate and can be used as a reliable source. The judgements added by the ethnographers, however, should be taken with a pinch of salt. One quirk of these sources is that often in the oral traditions the geographic locations are dis8  Quoted in Te Rangi Hiroa (Peter Buck), “The Passing of the Maori,” Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New Zealand 55 (1924): 362–75 at 362.

14  Introduction cussed using the European names instead of how the locations were known by the Indigenous peoples. This early period of historiography was focused on gathering and recording information from Indigenous peoples. However, as with all historical sources, some things about their reliability need to be kept in mind. In the case of Rapa Nui, a significant decline in population occurred in the late nineteenth century, in part as a result of European contact, and consequently there was a loss of culture and traditions. Therefore, some of the information may have been influenced more heavily by the era of its recording than by the past it was intended to depict. That is not to discredit their relevance or use when studying Rapa Nui, but is something to keep in mind when interpreting these sources. One of the key things to take into account about Moriori sources from Rēkohu is the contact with Māori prior to the source material being collected in the late nineteenth century. While they retained a distinct identity, some cultural influence and overlap took place after Māori tribes invaded Rēkohu during the 1830s. Although there was a greater quantity of information collected in the Aotearoa New Zealand context, the quality of it has been questioned. One reason is that a significant amount of the early material was mediated and interpreted by European amateur scholars who did not understand Māori perspectives. Another reason is that the early ethnographers unquestioningly trusted the information given to them. White’s dubious method was to send out notebooks and ask Māori to write down their traditions and knowledge. The issue with this approach was twofold: first, they did not necessarily go to the people who were responsible for retaining tribal knowledge, and second, many Māori informants would purposely give inaccurate information in order to keep their knowledge private. During this phase we see perhaps too great an emphasis by scholars on tradition, and an acceptance of it, without them necessarily having the correct understanding and interpretation. Tradition was viewed as reliable and accepted because, as argued by Smith, it “is an axiom that all tradition is based

Peoples, Geography, and Time  15

on fact—whilst the details may be wrong, the main stem is generally right” (Smith, Hawaiki, 18). Another early scholar, Dr. Peter Buck (also known as Te Rangi Hiroa) expressed the same sentiment when he wrote that “from a purely scientific point of view, tradition is of the greatest value in ethnological research regarding the Polynesian race.”9 Oral traditions were generally thought of as portraying actual events and the use of metaphor was misinterpreted as inaccurate, instead of as a device to portray meaning. Widespread distortion of tradition and knowledge also happened. The clearest and most well-known example of this occurring is in Smith’s Hawaiki. In this work, Smith attempted to discover where and when Māori arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand from the homeland of Hawaiki. With this end in mind, he went further than just asking Māori informants and consulted a Rarotongan chief. In an attempt to discover the arrival date of Māori, Smith created a chronological system based on genealogical records of Māori. He applied a rule of twenty-five years per generation and estimated that Māori arrived in 1350 CE from Hawaiki. This will be discussed further in Chapter 1 but what is important here is that Smith, and his contemporaries collected Māori tradition and then oversimplified it so that it made sense to European perceptions. The narrative went (Smith, Hawaiki, 23): In AD 750 the Polynesian explorer Kupe discovered an uninhabited Aotearoa New Zealand. In AD 1000–1100, Polynesian explorers Toi and Whatonga visited Aotearoa New Zealand and found it peopled by primitive, nomadic Moriori. Then in AD 1350 a Great Fleet of seven canoes— Aotea, Kuruhaupo, Matatua, Tainui, Tokomaru, Te Arawa, and Takitimu—brought Māori to New Zealand from the Tahitian region. These advanced, warlike, agricultural, tribal people destroyed the inferior Moriori.

9  Te Rangi Hiroa (Peter Buck), “The Value of Tradition in Polynesian Research,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 35, no. 139 (1926): 181–203.

16  Introduction Over time, oral traditions lost their status as reliable and useful sources. With the rise of scientific approaches to history and anthropology, traditions, and indeed oral sources more generally, were viewed as too subjective. In the Aotearoa New Zealand context, from the late twentieth century there have been two key streams of thought: scientific anthropology and mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge). Scientific anthropology derives from Western scholarship and relies on early European studies of Māori. In contrast, mātauranga Māori is passed down orally and through texts such as genealogy books. Of these two methods of interpreting Te Ao Māori (the Māori world), scientific anthropology has come to be equated with truth and realistic accounts of the past, while mātauranga Māori has been viewed as mythical and traditional knowledge which cannot be relied upon in the search for truth.10 As is the case with many oral societies, much of the dominant source material that related to Māori emerged from Western understandings and, at times, misperceptions. Although Māori swiftly adopted reading and writing, most of the written material is about rather than by Māori. This is slowly being corrected with an increasing volume of publications and research by Māori, but dominant narratives are hard to change. Māori have been historically depicted as a “warrior race,” “noble savages,” and culturally static. These categories were influenced by social Darwinism and created by European colonists. Although Māori were viewed as “savages” they were set slightly above other non-European groups. This categorization of Māori helped to alleviate the colonists’ confusion as to the survival of Māori despite their supposed inferiority. Moriori narratives have also been subsumed by European perspectives and written accounts, but also often by Māori narratives. The most popular narratives depict the Moriori as leftovers from a pre-Māori race of peoples who were defeated 10  Anne Salmond, “The Study of Traditional Maori Society: The State of the Art,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 92, no. 3 (1983): 309–31 at 309–10.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  17

by the stronger Māori and fled to Rēkohu. Similar to the situation of Māori in Aotearoa New Zealand, they were also viewed by Europeans as a dying race. Moriori were typically portrayed as a weak and peaceful people subjugated by their Māori conquerors. This narrative therefore served to achieve the legitimation of the European colonization of Māori: “Do unto the Māori as they [did] unto the Moriori.”11 Although most of the inaccurate assumptions have been disproved through research, they continue to recur in popular discourse. Similarly, source material about Rapa Nui exists, where dominant narratives are largely based on European perceptions. In 1899 Rapanui people were described as “dying out” and it was said there were “only a few dozen starving and timorous savages” left, and that the famous statues were made by “an unknown race of people that has either disappeared or dispersed” (Haun, Inventing “Easter Island”, 215–16). This narrative remains dominant and it allowed European responsibility for any hardships that befell Rapa Nui to be conveniently ignored. It can also be seen in more recent work, such as that of Jared Diamond, which paints Rapanui as self-destructive.12 The trend for an oral culture to be dominated by written narratives can also be seen in the way Vikings have been portrayed in the historiography. The bulk of the material about Vikings comes from Christians writing about them. In this way, it is similar to the domination of South Polynesian narratives by the European colonists, albeit with different power dynamics. The written accounts we have for the Vikings are primarily derived from members of the clergy writing from a specific perspective and often years after the events in question. Vikings have been stereotypically depicted as “heathens,” “bloodthirsty,” and violent raiders. Much like the European colonists being influenced by social Darwinism, or 11  Donn Bayard, “White Turnips and Mythical Moriori: Combatting Folk-Linguistic and Folk-Anthropological Myths in the Popular Press,” New Zealand English Journal 12 (1998): 6–20 at 9. 12  Diamond, Collapse, 118.

18  Introduction those writing about Rapa Nui being influenced by imperialism, the Christian chroniclers wrote with their own prejudices and influences. Early Polynesian historiography has struggled, and generally failed, to strike a balance between the two competing knowledge systems in interpreting the past. At first, Māori knowledge was accepted unquestioningly and was viewed as being true in the Western sense. In other words, early European scholars placed their own units of measurement onto a different knowledge system, which led to significant inaccuracies. From the twentieth century there was a turn when Māori knowledge and oral traditions came to be regarded as untruthful and unreliable, leading to a failure to appreciate what they could offer. Historians have been unable to reconcile the mythic aspects of oral traditions with the inconsistencies between these and their own world view, which has led to a widespread disregard for non-Western perceptions of the past. Although this has improved in recent years, there is still a prevailing assumption by some that non-Western sources of knowledge are unscientific and therefore untruthful. But of course this is not the case. These sources simply cannot be understood using Western perceptions; when analysing and interpreting another culture, historians need to use a different lens.

Time The issue of periodization and the resultant imposition of European divisions of time onto other cultures is not simply an issue of inaccurate labelling. Rather, it is a necessary response to the depiction of time and space having been one of the “most powerful hegemonic purveyors of Eurocentrism in modern times.”13 One of the key modes of transmission has been history, which has helped to normalize European conceptions of time and space. The way in which time is 13  Bill Ashcroft, Post-Colonial Transformation (London: Routledge, 2001), 15.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  19

perceived in Western thought is significantly different to that which developed in South Polynesia. When examining non-Western societies, it is crucial to gain an understanding of their perceptions of the world. The concept of time also plays a vital role in the understanding of South Polynesian source material such as oral tradition. Western time is a manifestation of the priorities in Western culture and society. Time in the Western sense is thought to be linear, constantly progressing forwards, leaving the past behind. But as Henri Poincaré wrote, “there is no time over and above the various clocks we have”; time is a culturally bound concept.14 For example, in direct contrast to the Western tendency to place the past in a chronological order, Māori understandings create a sense of timelessness where time is viewed as a continuous present. Māori time is captured in the saying “I-ngā-rā-o-mua,” which means “the days that stand to the fore” (Tau, “I-ngā-rā-o-mua,” 46). The clearest analogy that outlines the differences between Western and Māori thought in regard to time was written by Bill McKay and Antonia Walmsley: “Westerners think of their location in time as similar to a stream, backs turned to the past, poised in the present, facing the future […]. The Maori space-time construct can be thought of more like a constellation with the past and the people of the past always felt in the present […] always before you, always behind.”15 This is vital to understanding how Māori interpret and recount the past. Māori, and indeed Polynesian cultures more broadly, were traditionally oral cultures. For those living in oral societies, there is a “constant” present that is being recounted. Māori exist in the present with their ancestors, the gods, and culture heroes. This understanding of time is 14  Henri Poincaré quoted in Peter Munz, The Shapes of Time: A New Look at the Philosophy of History (Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1977), 221. 15  Bill McKay and Antonia Walmsley, “Maori Time: Notions of Space, Time and Building Form in the South Pacific,” Interior Design/Interior Architecture Educators Association (2003): 85–96 at 92.

20  Introduction based on whakapapa (genealogy), which is the basis for the Māori world. It is the relationships that take ontological priority in this view; in other words it is not the “when” and “what” that are of importance, but the “who.” Therefore, when Māori recount the past, time becomes relative (Tau, “I-ngā-rā-omua,” 53). Uniquely Polynesian time frames and divisions that can prove useful do exist. For example, in 1962, ethnologist and archaeologist Roger Duff outlined a three-phase sequence for the top of the South Island. The first was the moahunter period from 850 to 1350 CE, which was further split into settlement and development. Secondly, the transitional phase from 1350 to 1550 CE and split into the residual and proto-classic phases. Finally, the classic phase from 1550 to 1810 CE. Another model was proposed in the 1980s by archaeologist Janet Davidson who outlined the three phases of Aotearoa New Zealand history as she saw them, beginning with the settlement phase until 1200 CE, followed by the expansion and rapid change period from 1200 to 1500 CE, and lastly the traditional phase from 1500 to 1769 CE. More recently, in 2009, renowned scholar Atholl Anderson proposed a three-phase model which is more flexible than the earlier ones.16 In the case of Aotearoa New Zealand, he identified a colonization phase (1200–1400 CE), a transitional phase (1300–1600  CE) and a traditional phase (1500–1700 CE). The last two of these also apply to Rēkohu. These time frames have proved to be useful tools in the study of archaeology, and it is not proposed that they be dispensed with. However, the approach taken in this book is of a different nature; it seeks to avoid placing the history of the region into time divisions, and instead adopts a thematic approach. This is because South Polynesia is a vast area marked by great regional variation, and the early history of 16  Atholl Anderson, “Origins, Settlement and Society of PreEuropean South Polynesia,” in The New Oxford History of New Zealand, ed. Giselle Byrnes (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2009), 21–46 at 25.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  21

the region is characterized by a significant amount of change in an unusually short time frame. Nevertheless, the divisions proposed by scholars such as Anderson have informed this study and have influenced the thematic choices.

Methodology Early Polynesian history requires an understanding and appreciation of different source material to that of Western history. The study of Polynesian history suffers from a dearth of information in many respects, primarily written, and therefore historiographical skills cannot be neatly transferred from the study of early Western history. The two primary forms of source material are oral traditions and archaeology. Traditions recount things such as beliefs, genealogies, and relationships, while archaeology establishes an environmental and technological portrait of a period. Within South Polynesia, the historiography and source material is most plentiful for Aotearoa New Zealand. This approach should be particularly interesting to medievalists, who predominantly focus on written sources and it is intended to encourage a re-examination of disciplinary boundaries regarding sources. However, archaeology as a source for South Polynesian history cannot be easily aligned to understandings of archaeology in Europe. At times, early South Polynesian archaeology has been labelled as “prehistoric,” but this is a European term meaning “archaeology that was older than in the classical civilisations”; the term cannot be simply transferred to the South Polynesian context.17 The term “prehistory” also has negative implications for the understanding of Polynesian history. It implies that history began with the arrival of Europeans and colonization, and that events happening before this should not be viewed as legitimate history. One of the most unique aspects of archaeology in South Polynesia, par17  Atholl Anderson, “Pieces of the Past: AD 1200–1800,” in Tangata Whenua: An Illustrated History, ed. Atholl Anderson, Judith Binney, and Aroha Harris (Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2014), 70–101 at 70.

22  Introduction ticularly in Aotearoa New Zealand, is that it is “part of a living tradition, one that is recorded in great detail in a vast body of ethnography and traditional history.”18 In a more general sense, archaeology is limited in what it can achieve alone; although it can identify certain aspects of the past such as age and location, the significance that is derived from this information requires comparison and analogy with sources such as oral tradition. Oral traditions are a crucial source for the study of South Polynesia: they provide a wealth of information that is unavailable through other sources and illuminate the world views of the South Polynesians. To understand them, as noted above, one must first understand the different world views and time conceptions of the cultures that produce them. The traditions of these cultures reflect their perceptions of time. For instance, if “Māori see no chronological or strongly physical demarcation line between the dead and the living, human and atua [ancestors/gods], then how can we expect oral traditions to make a distinction?”19 Oral traditions have been thought of in two ways. One view is that they are a historical record to be interpreted as such. The second view, and the one that is taken here to be correct, is that they are not simply records; they “transcend” this role “to become myths that communities use as a basis for functioning” (Tau, Ngā Pikitūroa, 259). The word myth here is not used to connote untruth, rather it refers to traditions which serve a purpose, and are constructed for this. The concerns most often expressed about oral traditions are the perceived inaccuracies of any method that relies on memory. But South Polynesian traditions, and indeed most oral traditions, were not simply shared without rules or pro18  Matthew Campbell, “The Historical Archaeology of New Zea­ land’s Prehistory,” in Islands of Inquiry: Colonisation, Seafaring and the Archaeology of Maritime Landscapes, ed. Geoffrey Clark, Foss Leach, and Sue O’Connor (Canberra: ANU Press, 2008), 339–50 at 339. 19  Rawiri Te Maire Tau, Ngā Pikitūroa o Ngāi Tahu: The Oral Traditions of Ngāi Tahu (Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2003), 260.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  23

cesses in place to ensure they did not become distorted. They were taught to people chosen and trained for the task and followed methods that ensured accurate memorization. For example, traditions were associated with particular geographic locations and contained a range of mnemonic devices that ensured retention. Oral traditions as a source have also been criticized for not adhering to Western chronology and therefore being impossible to accurately date, leading to the imposition of chronological order derived from genealogical records (Smith, Hawaiki, 21–22). This criticism assumes that the Western method of dating is universally true. Understanding and interpreting oral traditions require a different set of skills than does the study of Western history. Traditions are tribally based and have to be understood within a tribal context. The simplest definition of oral traditions is that they are “oral accounts of a community’s traditions […] [they are] more than historical recollections. Traditions incorporate the myths, rituals and customs of a community” (Tau, Ngā Pikitūroa, 260). While oral traditions had to be reliable in the sense that they were employed to determine and retain land rights, they were never intended to convey an objective account. Despite a commonly held belief that archaeology and oral traditions cannot be reconciled, they are in fact complementary sources and have much to offer if interpreted correctly. This relationship was outlined by archaeologist Janet Davidson who observed that traditions are primarily concerned with key figures and events that contribute to the identity of the tribe, while archaeology is focused on the specifics and details of society. Therefore, a historical account of early South Polynesian history purely derived from archaeological sources would provide only part of the story. As noted by Anne Salmond, drawing on two approaches to understanding the past is “likely to be far more productive than a strategy based on epistemological arrogance.”20 These points have also been acknowledged in African historiography and it 20  Salmond, “The Study of Traditional Maori Society,” 311.

24  Introduction has been argued that oral tradition should be more readily accepted as a complementary source.21 This would allow for the portrayal of the complex nature of the past and provide deeper understanding. The complementarity of the two sources does not mean that they fit neatly together like pieces of a puzzle. It must be remembered that these two methods of recounting the past come from different world views and one cannot be used to validate the other. Archaeologist Matthew Campbell argued that archaeologists should simply “accept it as true on its own terms” and when assessing the reliability of the sources, the assessments must be steeped in the world views that the sources emerge from.22 In short, there is, of course, no point measuring oral traditions by the standards of Western historiography, as they emerge from completely different perspectives. This approach requires a genuine and deep understanding of tradition and an appreciation that it is legitimate, but different. If the two sources do not create a uniform picture of history, then it merely serves to portray the complexities of the past and the differing world views that existed and continue to exist.

Beliefs and Cosmology The beliefs and cosmology of the South Polynesians can provide valuable insight into the cultures and perspectives of these societies. Myths and religion are designed to help humanity make sense of the world and their being. The beliefs of a society are what bind it and keep it cohesive. They explain how a group came to be and their existence in the world. Some of the most fascinating myths are those that deal with creation. 21  P. R. Schmidt, Historical Archaeology in Africa: Representation, Social Memory, and Oral Traditions (Lanham: AltaMira, 2006), 16–44.

22  Campbell, “The Historical Archaeology of New Zealand’s Pre­ history,” 341.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  25

A Māori creation tradition begins with Te Pō (the darkness) and Te Ao (the light). Then Te Kore (the nothingness) began. From this state the founding ancestors of humanity descended, Ranginui (Sky-Father) and Papatūānuku (Earth-Mother) who were locked together in an embrace. Together they had many children, but these children became frustrated at their life in the darkness and began to attempt to push their parents apart. The exact number of children differs between versions but there are eight primary gods that were children of Rangi and Papa: Tāne (forest), Tūmatauenga (war), Tangaroa (sea), Rongo (peace and agriculture), Ruaumoko (earth­­quakes), Tāwhirimatea (weather), Whiro (evil), and Haumia (uncultivated food). It was Tāne who finally managed to separate his parents by “standing with his hands like roots on mother earth and his legs upwards, forked like branches, [forcing] Rangi upwards to the heavens.”23 This separation caused Rangi to shed tears, which account for the rain and mists. This act allowed Te Ao Mārama (the world of light) to emerge and explains the origins of the world from Māori world views. Moriori creation traditions and the beliefs surrounding it are similar in many ways to those of Māori. Ethnologist Alexander Shand recorded the tradition from a Moriori tohunga (expert, priest), Minarapa Tamahawaki, in 1868. In this version, Rangi and Papa were linked in the darkness, until Rangi-tokona, a spirit, separated them and let light into the world.24 A Māori chant outlining this myth was recorded by ethnographer Rev. Richard Taylor in the mid-nineteenth century. An excerpt of this chant is: Ko te pō nui, to pō roa | The great night, the long night, Te pō i tūturi, te pō i pēpeke | The lowest night, the lofti   est night. 23  Albert C. Moore, Arts in the Religions of the Pacific (London: Pinter, 1995), 162.

24  Alexander Shand, “The Moriori People of the Chatham Islands: Their Traditions and History Ko Matangi-ao,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 4 (1895): 33–47.

26  Introduction Te pō uriuri, te pō tangotango | The thick night, to be felt, Te pō wawā | The night to be touched. Te pō tē kitea | The night not to be seen. Te pō i oti atu ki te mate | The night of death. Na te kore i ai | From the nothing the begetting. Te kore te wiwia | From the nothing the increase Te kore te rawea | From the nothing the abundance, Ko hotupu | The power of increasing, Ko hauora | The living breath; Ka noho i te ātea | It dwelt with the empty space Ka puta ki waho te rangi e tū nei | and the sky above was born Ko te rangi e teretere ana | The atmosphere which floats I runga o te whenua | above the earth; Ka noho te rangi nui e tū nei | The great firmament above us, Ka noho i a ata tuhi | dwelt with the early dawn.25

Rather than being a myth of creation in the usual sense, it is essentially depicting the descent of the world from Rangi and Papa. All elements are personified and were related to each other. The Māori creation tradition enables us to see how Māori sought to account for and explain their world and how this emerged out of their experiences. A nineteenth-century tohunga from the South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand, Matiaha Tiramōrehu, provided invaluable insight into this idea. He wrote “Kei a te po, te timatanga mai o te waiatatanga mai o te po,” which has been translated in two different ways. First, it has been understood as: “In the night we start with the creation chant of the gods,” which at first glance appears satisfactory. However, it is more correctly translated as: “In the night, the creation [traditions] start with chanting the gods into being.” The latter is a more accurate depiction of Māori understandings of their world, as it conveys the sense that the tohunga brings the “gods into his world” rather than simply reciting chants. This is a significant point of difference to Judeo-Christian creation traditions where lines of descent 25  Anne Salmond, “Nga Huarahi O Te Ao Maori: Pathways in the Maori World,” in Te Maori: Maori Art from New Zealand Collections, ed. Sidney Moko Mead (Auckland: Heinemann, 1985), 109–37 at 110.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  27

flow through time from Adam and Eve. For Māori, Rangi and Papa exist in the eternal present (Tau, “Tirohia,” 26–27). The “gods” of Māori society are known as atua. They are better thought of as spiritual beings rather than gods as such, and thus atua included the major figures such as Rangi and Papa, features of the landscape, as well as ancestors. Features of the landscape that represent atua can be rivers, mountains, and lakes and they can communicate through what are known as tohu or signs. These tohu could be interpreted by tohunga. Tohu perform a similar function to miracles in Western society; they explain the unexplainable. Atua are not seen to exist in the past, but in the constant present. What this creates is a direct relationship between people and the atua. Processes existed for consecrating these features, which could include placing ancestral remains or an “intangible essence” known as mauri in the landscape. This process has been compared by a historian from the Ngāi Tahu tribe of the South Island, Te Maire Tau, to the “lan nama” ritual of the Vikings, which consecrated their lands with their mythologies. The process of consecration has been interpreted as being for mnemonic purposes, but these landmarks were understood as the ancestor, although they may have also had a mnemonic role in assisting with memory and recollection. The landscape became an “ancestral church” and the ancestors were able to communicate directly to the people through tohu. These tohu were often environmental anomalies such as plants flowering at unexpected times and are best understood as the “voice of the ancestors” (Tau, “Tirohia,” 17). One of my own tribes, Ngāti Kuia, is renowned as a spiritual people and for the ability to understand tohu. One of the key ancestral mountains of Ngāti Kuia is Tūtūmāpou and it is said that if lightning is seen on the sides of the mountain, a woman is on her way as a visitor; if it is seen on the inland side, a woman of no consequence is coming; if there is rain on the top, then it is a sign of a chief coming. The ability of Ngāti Kuia to communicate with the atua has been maintained in waiata (songs), karakia (prayers), and other traditions. For example, the waiata E Koro Paroa was shared by tribal elder

28  Introduction Eruera Wirihana (also known as E. W. Pakauwera) and written down in the late nineteenth century. An excerpt of the translation of this waiata is: Mō Kahuroa; e tū nei | For Kahuroa, standing here He wehi nōku | I am in awe Tūtūmāpou e tū mai rā | Tūtūmāpou stands there Kia whaikōrero mai | Speak I te tākiritanga i te ata | At the break of dawn26

Tūtūmāpou and Kahuroa are two key ancestral mountains and here the composer implores the mountains and therefore atua and ancestors to speak to them and give them meaning. There is less information on Rapanui beliefs and cosmology than for Māori. Rapanui beliefs surrounding creation are retained in chants, which explain how everything in the Rapanui universe was created. Such a chant was shared by a Rapanui person named Ure Vae Iko in 1886 with William J. Thomson, who was with the United States Navy. It has recently been written about by Edmundo and Alexandra Edwards in their work on Rapanui spirituality and culture (Edwards and Edwards, When the World, 101). God Irapupue and goddess Irakaka produced arrowroot. God Mangeongeo and goddess Herakiraki produced yams. God Aheu and goddess Pana produced calabash. God Heima and goddess Kairui-hakamarui produced stars.

The chant outlines not only physical objects and living beings but also events. For instance, a later line of the chant states that “Kuanuku created death by drowning, death in warfare, death by accident, and death by disease.”27 26  Stephenson Percy Smith, Notebook, 1894 (unpublished manu­ script held in the Alexander Turnbull Library in Wellington, Polynesian Society: Records/ Series 11—Deposited papers—Stephenson Percy Smith). 27  William J. Thomson, Te Pito o te Henua, or Easter Island (Wash­ ington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1891), 521–22.

Peoples, Geography, and Time  29

Rapanui gods fall into three major categories: creation gods, deified ancestors, and chiefs’ spirits that were subsequently given godly status. Many of the gods present in wider Polynesia, such as Tangaroa, Rongo, and Tāne, were likewise present in Rapa Nui, although there is a dearth of information about their exact roles in Rapa Nui. Similar to the gods in Māori beliefs, the gods were said to be present in environmental phenomena; an example is that “red clouds at dusk and dawn announced the presence of Tangaroa” (Edwards and Edwards, When the World, 106–17). The gods could manifest in living and non-living objects. One of the most well-known of the Rapanui gods is Makemake. The traditions surrounding Makemake say that he originated from a skull on the island Mataveri. A priestess possessed the skull in her cave, sensing its power, but during a storm it was swept out to sea. Although the priestess swam after it, she was unable to obtain it. Eventually she washed ashore on the island Matirohiva, near where the skull had landed. When the priestess awoke, she encountered a man who asked “Who are you? Why did you come to this place?” to which she answered, “I am looking for my skull.” The man responded “That is not a skull. That is the god Makemake. I am called Haua, who will be a companion for Makemake.” Makemake then took human form. After eating birds with Makemake, the priestess asked why her homeland did not have such delicious food. Therefore, they decided to chase a flock of birds back to Mataveri for the people to eat. However, the people on Mataveri simply ate all the birds without any thought to the future; more birds were driven there and the same happened again. Therefore, Makemake and Haua directed the birds to the small island across from Mataveri, Motonui. There they could raise their young and the people could still capture some.28 28  Bo Flood, Beret E. Strong, and William Flood, Pacific Island Legends: Tales from Micronesia, Melanesia, Polynesia, and Australia (Honolulu: Bess, 1999), 222; Alfred Metraux, Ethnology of Easter Island (Honolulu: Edward, 1971), 311–15.

30  Introduction The beliefs held in this tradition were manifested in the Birdman Cult, which emerged in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and honoured Makemake. A fundamental part of this cult was the annual birdman ceremony. Representatives were chosen by tribal leaders who then competed to collect the first egg laid by the migratory birds. The winner would be the birdman for the year until the next competition. The Birdman Cult lasted into the nineteenth century but was eventually quashed by the missionaries. Prior to the emergence of the Birdman Cult, the dominant belief system was what has been labelled the Ancestor Cult. These two cults were not mutually exclusive and until around the turn of the eighteenth century they co-existed. One of the key differences was that the Ancestor Cult was focused on the worship of ancestors who were represented by the gigantic statues around the island, while the Birdman Cult provided a human link to communicate with the gods (Edwards and Edwards, When the World, 112). The worlds inhabited by the early Polynesians were vastly different from those of the European Middle Ages and need to be viewed using a different lens. It is hoped that this section’s exploration of the themes of peoples, geography, and time will provide the reader with useful background information. What follows is intended to explore the points outlined thus far through the themes of movement and migration, adaptation and change, and complexity and culture.

Chapter 1

Movement and Migration

The navigation and voyaging skills of the Polynesians are remarkable. Their voyages to South Polynesia were an impressive technological achievement, unrivalled by their contemporaries. These have been described as “among the greatest acts of voyage and discovery in world history” and have been compared to “modern space travel.”1 The traditional accounts of migration are well preserved if interpreted correctly. Yet these accounts have been repeatedly misinterpreted and misrepresented by early European scholars. One of the functions of this work is to offer a clear corrective to outdated views which, although challenged by specialists, still retain some influence. This section will provide those unfamiliar with the benefits of oral sources with useful insight on how these can be used. It will be particularly interesting to medievalists, as it is intended to encourage a re-examination of disciplinary boundaries regarding sources. It will then provide an overview of navigational and voyaging techniques used by the Polynesians. The voyages have often been debated, and it was previously argued that the Polynesians merely “drifted” to the South, with early European scholars unable to fathom their voyaging ability.2 However, it is now 1  Vincent O’Malley, Haerenga: Early Māori Journeys Across the Globe (Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2015), 7. 2  Andrew Sharp, Ancient Voyagers in Polynesia (Auckland: Longman Paul, 1963), 34, 71.

32  Chapter 1 largely accepted that the Polynesians deliberately came to South Polynesia and their navigation skills are proven and recognized. This section aims to draw together these threads and highlight the levels of Polynesian technological and navigational accomplishment. The achievement and skill of the early Polynesian voyagers cannot be overemphasized; reaching South Polynesia was an exceptional accomplishment for the early navigators, particularly when one compares it to what was occurring in the rest of the world during this time. As Jeff Evans writes, “when most European seamen were still hugging the shoreline as they sailed from port to port along their coastlines, the Polynesians had already sailed halfway across the vast Pacific Ocean on voyages of discovery” (Evans, Polynesian Navigation, 15). Some early scholars recognized the achievement of the early Polynesian voyagers, such as Smith who wrote in 1904, “Who, after this, will deny to the Polynesians the honour that is their due as skilful and daring navigators? […] Long before our ancestors had learnt to venture out of sight of land, these bold sailors had explored the Antarctic seas, and traversed the Pacific Ocean from end to end” (Smith, Hawaiki, 130). Yet, many scholars continued to discount the achievements of the early navigators claiming that the journeys must have been accidental, or “drift voyages.” This theory will be discussed in greater depth in the voyaging and navigation section.

Myth and Motivation Hawaiki is the ancestral home of many Polynesian races and is understood to mean where the ancestors were from. Early scholars searched for Hawaiki, with Smith arguing that it was originally India. In reality, the name was applied to multiple locations as Polynesians migrated and settled. Hawaiki is also the place where spirits go after death. Teone Taare Tikao, an elder from the Ngāi Tahu tribe of the South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand, explained this process to ethnographer Herries Beattie (Beattie, Tikao Talks, 51) in the early twentieth century:

Movement and Migration  33

the piece [of land] on which they lived was known as Hawaiki, and when they left it and went [on] their first sea-voyage they called the island they came to Hawaiki also. When they left that island and moved on to another one they named the new island Hawaiki in memory of their first two homes, and so it went on. Looking back they could see it would not do to have them all called Hawaiki, and nothing else, so they began speaking of the different places as Big Hawaiki, Long Hawaiki, and so on.

He continued on to say that although no one “can tell you where Long Hawaiki, Big Hawaiki and Very Far Distant Hawaiki are situated, […] we all know we came from these lands” (Beattie, Tikao Talks, 51). Hawaiki was not the only name that arrived with the voyagers and many names were brought from Hawaiki and placed on new locations. For example, in Aotearoa New Zealand, Aoraki (or Aorangi), the highest mountain on the South Island, is a name from Hawaiki, as is Rapanui, a rock in the sea off the South Island, and Rarotonga Island located in Foveaux Strait, to name just a few (Beattie, Tikao Talks, 52). Sir Tipene O’Regan, Ngāi Tahu elder and historian, explained this: “Each time we voyaged onwards we rolled up our legends, our whakapapa and our place names, and carried them with us to be unrolled in a new place and fitted to a new landscape.”3 The oral traditions of concern here are the migratory ones. These traditions have been explained by scholar Rawiri Taonui as detailing the departure from the homeland, arrival in new environments, and the subsequent exploration and settlement of these lands. Taonui continued on to explain that these traditions are a midpoint between creation and “now” and are the richest traditions in terms of historical information and symbolism, which can make the traditions hard to understand.4 The effects of the difficulties in under3  Tipene O’Regan quoted in Philippa Mein Smith, A Concise History of New Zealand, 2nd ed. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 12. 4  Rawiri Taonui, “Polynesian Oral Traditions,” in Vaka Moana: Voyages of the Ancestors. The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific, ed. K. R. Howe (Auckland: Bateman, 2006), 22–53.

34  Chapter 1 standing and interpretation can be clearly seen in the work of early scholars of the topic of migration. The most infamous example is the Great Fleet myth created by members of the Polynesian Society during the early twentieth century. This interpretation was founded on the idea that the traditions held factual material that could be directly transposed onto Western concepts of history to make a coherent narrative. Simultaneously, there were interpretations of the traditions that denounced them as untruthful and therefore they were seen as irrelevant and of little use. However, these two methods of interpretation are both misguided because they ignore the mix of symbolism and history present in oral tradition. Although the traditions include both these elements, there are also different categories of traditions. In particular, we should differentiate between migration traditions that are historical and which detail human settlement and those that are mythic in nature, for example, ones that detail how the land was created. One such example that will be discussed is that of Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga the cultural hero who is said to have fished up Te Ika-a-Māui (the fish of Māui), which is the Māori name for the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. Another key traditional account of the discovery of Aotearoa New Zealand is the legend and tradition of Kupe, who is purported to have discovered the land, before returning to the homeland, Hawaiki, around 900 CE. The legend recounts a mythical tale of Kupe’s journey, while oral tradition gives a migration account, which will be discussed later. Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga is one of the most well-known characters of Polynesian myth and is generally viewed as a cultural hero and demigod. Many tales exist of the exploits of Māui; he was responsible for slowing the sun and for fishing up islands. The legend of Māui is widespread within Polynesia, albeit in different forms, which is a remarkable feat and one that highlights the power of oral traditions: despite the distance between Polynesian regions, the same stories have been present. For Māori, the North Island was the one fished out of the sea by Māui; the South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand in Māori is Te Waka a Māui (the canoe of Māui). The tale goes

Movement and Migration  35

that Māui wanted to go fishing with his elder brothers, but they would not allow him. So, he hid on the boat until they were far enough out before revealing himself. Once he had emerged, he wanted to fish but his brothers would not give him any hook or bait. Māui therefore used as his hook the lower jawbone of his grandmother Muri-Ranga-Whenua, which she had gifted to him. The lower jawbone, kauae runga, is a powerful symbol for terrestrial knowledge in Māori culture. For bait, he took “a tangled hank of flax [… and] struck his nose, saturated the flax with flowing blood, and fixing this on his hook cast it into the sea.” His line soon grew tense and he pulled up a massive fish which had “fires burning and people walking about on the back of [it].”5 One of the other key stories about the discovery of Aotearoa New Zealand is the legend of Kupe, which has been preserved in a range of sources, for example, this common waiata: Ka tito au, ka tito au, ka tito au | I sing, I sing, I sing Ki a Kupe te tangata | Of Kupe the man Nāna i topetope te whenua | Who cut off the land, Tū kē a Kapiti | Kapiti stands apart, Tū kē a Mana | Mana stands apart, Tū kē a Arapaoa | Arapaoa stands apart, Ko ngā tohu tēnā | These were the signs A taku tupuna | Of my ancestor, A Kupe, nāna i waka | Of Kupe, who went Tōmene Tītapua | Over Titipua, Ka tōmene au te whenua | Over the land.

Waiata are one of the key methods for recounting the past in oral cultures. They are useful tools as they are able to convey significant amounts of information in a small number of words. Variants exist concerning what motivated Kupe to leave the homeland; some tribes say that it was a result of marital strife and others that it was due to an argument with Muturangi in Hawaiki. Muturangi had power over the octopuses that resided at Wakapuaka, the fishing area at Hawaiki. 5  Johannes C. Andersen, Myths and Legends of the Polynesians (Tokyo: Tuttle, 1969), 199–202, 216.

36  Chapter 1 In some versions it is said that Kupe was annoyed that the octopuses would steal his bait from his fishing hooks and therefore went on a mission to kill the largest octopus, named Whekenui/Te-Wheke-o-Muturangi. He chased Whekenui across the Pacific Ocean until he reached Te Ika-a-Māui, the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. Other versions state that Whekenui chased Kupe on Muturangi’s orders. Another version of the Kupe narrative was labelled by Evans as the Kupe tradition, which is thought to represent a more realistic story. This version of events begins with the practical consideration of the construction of two canoes, Matahourua and Aotea. This version of events gives details of navigation and land-finding techniques. It recounts Reti navigating with his celestial knowledge of the stars and the swells of the ocean. The tradition also states that the land was found by an understanding of “Te-a-kanapanapa (bright or gleaming current)” (Evans, Polynesian Navigation, 37–39). Many versions recall that Kupe returned home to Hawaiki after discovering the land and his instructions guided the migrations. What is important is that each and every variant of the Kupe tradition is important and valid for the tribe that holds it. Some tribes do not regard Kupe as a key figure. This is reflective of the nature of oral traditions; they are specific to the group and their role is to provide meaning to events that have occurred and to provide authentication of a group’s claims to authority. Varieties of tradition relate also to the discovery of Rēkohu. One tradition is that Rēkohu was discovered by a voyager named Toi on his way to Aotearoa New Zealand. Another figure, Kahu, then returned to Rēkohu on his way back to Hawaiki. This tradition was shared by Māori scholar H. T. Whatahoro in the early twentieth century and was based on the teachings of two tohunga, Te Matorohanga and Nepia Pohuhu.6 Another tradition recounts that the first arrivals were on 6  H. T. Whatahoro, The Lore of the Whare-wānanga; or Teachings of the Maori College on Religion, Cosmogony, and History (New Plymouth: Avery, 1913). Tohunga is often translated as priest or expert in spir­ itual matters.

Movement and Migration  37

board the waka (canoe) Tāne from Aotea and Hawaiki, led by Kahu. When they arrived, the islands were said to be peopled by the “descendants of cosmological beings” (Taonui, “Polynesian Oral Traditions,” 26–27). More canoes were to follow, including the Rangimata and Rangihoua. Other accounts state that the inhabitants were autochthonous, meaning they emerged from the land itself. The cosmological beings are often thought to be the two autochthonous ancestors known as Te Aomarama and Rongomaiwhenua (King, Moriori, 18). It has been argued that Rapa Nui culture was largely destroyed as a result of European contact. When traditions began to be collected on Rapa Nui, the population was devastated and much of the historical and cultural memory vanished. Archaeologist Peter Bellwood held this view and argued that when studies began to be done in the late nineteenth century, the “old culture was virtually dead” and that he suspected the traditions were not authentic.7 But not all scholars accept this. For instance, Diamond argues that the traditions are replete with reliable evidence.8 The position taken here is one of historical caution. As with any source, Rapanui traditions should be interpreted and understood within their context. As long as possible inaccuracies are taken into account the traditions can still offer interesting insight and should not be wholly discounted. Rapanui culture still exists and continues to evolve, despite the negative effects of colonization. On the other side of the Pacific, a Rapanui tradition describing how that land was discovered is recounted in Antony Alpers’ 1987 work (Alpers, The World of the Polynesians, 233–36). The narrative opens by outlining the place of origin and the motivations for leaving in search of new lands. “Our homeland Marae renga lay a distant journey to the west. There Hotu matua our king was one of the chiefs; Oroi was his rival. There was a war between their tribes.” It continues on, describing 7  Peter Bellwood, Man’s Conquest of the Pacific: The Prehistory of Southeast Asia and Oceania (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 365. 8  Diamond, Collapse, 88.

38  Chapter 1 how the king was told of a dream that they would travel to new lands, so he deployed people to search for the fabled land. These travellers journeyed in the canoe Te Oraora Miro, laden with vegetables and fruits to plant upon arrival. They explored the land and attempted to find suitable areas for living. Hotu Matua then arrived, along with the priest Tu’u ko ihu in a double canoe. As they reached the shore, they cut the bindings that joined the two, and each went in opposite directions around the land. When it seemed as though Tu’u ko ihu was going to be the first ashore at Anakena, Hotu Matua recited “Ka hakamau te konekone! (Stay the paddling!)” which caused Tu’u ko ihu to be delayed and Hotu Matua to be the first ashore. This is said to be how the original inhabitants of Rapa Nui arrived and the narrative finishes as follows: “There came to this land on those canoes the man, the fowl, the turtle, the banana plant; the aute tree whose bark gives tapa cloth; the crayfish, the gourd, the kumara and the yam. These things all came with Hotu matua the king. Hundreds and hundreds were the people, the mahingo who came to this land on that canoe of Hotu matua the king.” One of the obvious possibilities influencing migration is simply a desire for adventure on the part of the navigators, although most likely a range of factors went into the decision. Tradition shows that there was a range of motivations for migration to new lands by Polynesian navigators. As mentioned in the Rapa Nui tradition, war in homelands was one such motivation. David Lewis has urged that, when examining this issue, the complexities need to be considered and the exact motives and desires of these people will never be fully understood (Lewis, We, the Navigators, 297–98). Some of the most common motivations that have been suggested are warfare, famine, trade, overpopulation, and curiosity. Other situations involved exile, lovers fleeing, or even younger siblings migrating to establish their own power. So there was a mixture of motivations for migrating and in reality probably a combination of overlapping reasons. Lewis made an important point to be considered when thinking about reasons for migration: that we cannot ever entirely know what the moti-

Movement and Migration  39

vations were and we need to ensure that we do not equate them with our own (Lewis, We, the Navigators, 297). This is the key factor when studying any culture other than one’s own; as historians we must beware imposing concepts and understandings on other perceptions and world views. A range of these motivations can be seen in Māori migration traditions. One such example is the tradition of Uenuku, who was a chief in Hawaiki. Uenuku had a large number of sons, some say seventy-one, with all but one, Ruatapu, being of the chiefly line, as he was born of a slave woman. Uenuku built a large canoe and was preparing his sons’ hair for the first sailing. Ruatapu was offended when his father combed the hair of all his other sons, but would not do the same for him, saying “[w]here could I find a comb for your hair? These combs are sacred. They cannot be used on the hair of people of no importance.” Ruatapu sought revenge for this and cut a hole in the bottom of the canoe, replacing it with small pieces of wood. The following day when they were some way out in the water he removed the wood and the canoe sank, killing all his brothers except one, Paikea. Paikea survived because he swam away and was rescued by a whale who took him to Aotearoa New Zealand where he then settled.9 The range of motivations at play and the debate surrounding these may remind the reader of the debate surrounding Viking motivations for migration. Overpopulation has been proposed as motivation; others have argued that there is no supporting evidence, and that the initial Viking voyages were for raiding, not settlement. Some say Viking forays were for religious reasons, but this is highly unlikely and the genesis for this idea can be found in the work of Christian chroniclers. Recent work has identified three key factors influencing Viking migration: trade, political issues in Europe (including the Vikings’ homelands), and the possibilities offered 9  Anon., “The Story of Paikea and Ruatapu,” Te Ao Hou: The Maori Magazine 40 (1962): 1–6. Available online at http://teaohou.natlib. govt.nz/journals/teaohou/issue/Mao40TeA/c5.html.

40  Chapter 1 by Viking ship technology.10 The seafaring activities of the Vikings were more or less contemporaneous to those of the Polynesians. Like the Polynesian migrations from Hawaiki, there may have been those wishing to pursue new opportunities to increase their political power. It was, however, most likely a combination of factors, with some opportunism and good timing, that motivated both Polynesians and Vikings. Traditional accounts provide valuable insight into the world views of the early Polynesian voyagers and show the infor­ mation they deemed important and needed to retain. These traditions contain both mythic and historic elements and therefore require careful interpretation. The following section on voyaging and navigation builds on this and will outline the key techniques required for the early voyages.

Voyaging and Navigation Some early scholars, such as Smith and Buck, recognized the skill of the early Polynesian voyagers. But many were not so generous with their praise. Perhaps the most well-known argument against the navigational abilities of the early Polynesian migrants is Andrew Sharp’s “drift voyage” theory.11 Sharp argued that the voyaging undertaken by Polynesians was accidental and could not be described as an intentional enterprise. Sharp has since been described as a “landlubber historian” who did not appreciate the abilities of the early navigators.12 Sharp was of the view that the Polynesian navigators had inferior technology, which meant it was not possible for them to have successfully made long-distance 10  John Aberth, “From the Obscurantism of the Northmen, O Lord, Deliver Us! The Viking Invasions,” in Contesting the Middle Ages: Debates that are Changing our Narrative of Medieval History, ed. John Aberth (Abingdon: Routledge, 2018), 35–52. 11  Sharp, Ancient Voyagers in Polynesia, 32–33.

12  Geoffrey Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” in Vaka Moana: Voyages of the Ancestors. The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific, ed. K. R. Howe (Auckland: Bateman, 2006), 55–91 at 79.

Movement and Migration  41

voyages. One of the implications of his theory is that Polynesian navigators are seen as incompetent and unable to have achieved such great feats. This assumes that if one did not possess European tools for sailing and navigation, then long-distance voyaging was not possible and dismisses any other methods of navigation and voyaging; it privileges one form of knowledge. A reason for Sharp’s underestimation was given by Lewis: “the scientifically conditioned Western mind finds difficulty in grasping the concepts involved and in appreciating the degree of precision that is attainable by them” (Lewis, We, the Navigators, 354–55). A range of studies was undertaken to disprove the accidental voyage theory. One of the earliest appeared in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and attempted to investigate the theory using computer simulation. A virtual Pacific was created using historical evidence of weather patterns to mirror the conditions faced by the early Polynesian voyagers. A fleet of one hundred thousand virtual canoes was then dispersed and it was concluded that accidental voyaging did not play a significant role in early Polynesian migration.13 In the case of Aotearoa New Zealand, it was shown that there was not enough evidence to back up claims of settlement via drift voyages, and a similar conclusion was reached in the case of Rapa Nui. Overall, the study showed that it was highly unlikely or impossible that accidental voyages were responsible for migration, although Irwin argued that accidental voyages may have played a role in the settlement of Polynesian outlier islands. One of the key scholars working in this field was Ben Finney, who tried to discern whether migration was purposeful or accidental. Finney was also heavily involved in experimental voyaging projects such as that of the Hōkūle’a canoe, which tested in the 1980s traditional Polynesian navigation techniques.14 Hōkūle’a became a symbol for Hawaiian culture 13  Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” 79.

14  Ben Finney, “Myth, Experiment, and the Reinvention of Polynesian Voyaging,” American Anthropologist 93, no. 2 (1991): 383–404 at 394, 399.

42  Chapter 1 and continues to be sailed, educating people in traditional navigation. The original purpose was primarily to put an end to the debate by making a comparable voyage. It certainly contributed to settling the debate and there is now a general consensus that Polynesia was settled through purposeful, intentional voyaging. Modern canoes such as the Hōkūle’a were built as closely to a traditional canoe as possible. This was no easy feat, as there are gaps in the information regarding the original form. There are no extant original canoes from the migrations to Aotearoa New Zealand, although in 2011 the hull of a canoe was discovered on the South Island’s west coast. It was dated to around 1350–1400 CE and was most likely a double canoe, a long-range voyage vessel (Anderson, The First Migration, 38). No images remain of what it looked like, and obviously no writings describe them because written accounts only emerged post-contact. There is evidence that migration to South Polynesia occurred on double and outrigger canoes, evidence that is retained in oral traditions, later European accounts based on these, as well as archaeological information. After arrival, however, there was a decline in the use of double canoes, for a variety of possible reasons: there was simply no longer a need for double canoes for voyaging, and the resources for building canoes in Aotearoa New Zealand were better suited to single, long canoes. By the time of European contact, double canoes were a rare sight and the most common canoe was a single hull without an outrigger.15 Canoes are not only important for their practical role in migration, but also as a symbol of group identity. For Māori in Aotearoa New Zealand, the canoe their ancestors arrived on is a foundation of identity, for both the individual and the group. Even in contemporary society these named canoes continue to play an important role. When Māori introduce themselves, the canoe is invoked as a key source of identity. As Māori settled in Aotearoa New Zealand, the canoe symbol15  Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” 80.

Movement and Migration  43

ism was also transposed onto the architecture that emerged. The canoe symbolized the chief’s backbone, and the architecture of marae (tribal meeting houses) reflected this, with the ridgepole symbolizing the backbone. Their deep understanding and appreciation for the environment enabled the Polynesians to become skilled navigators. They used a range of environmental factors to assist them in their quests for new lands; these included the stars, waves, currents, clouds, and birds. One of the crucial aspects of navigation was the ability to locate land. The Polynesians used their understanding of the environment to enable them to achieve this. A vital method was to observe the activities of land-based birds, because when birds are present, land is nearby. Depending on the species of bird, it can then be roughly determined how far away the nearest land is. For instance, noddies often go no further than around thirty-two kilometres from land and are therefore a useful bird for navigators. It is a reasonably precise method of finding land, as the birds are certain to return to land, thus guiding the navigators. Kiribati navigator Teeta spoke of the role of birds in Polynesian navigation: “Birds are the navigator’s very best friends. Birds are very useful up to twice the sight range of an island from a canoe […]. The birds which are most significant are the terns and noddies” (Finney and Low, “Navigation,” in Howe, Vaka Moana, 168). In addition to observing birds, navigators observed clouds and water to indicate the presence of land. Clouds were a useful indicator of land through their movement and colour. The water provided many signs for the experienced navigator. One sign is the swells of the ocean that are caused by the presence of islands. Another is the underwater phosphorescence, when flashes of light appear in the water and indicate that land is between approximately fifty and one hundred and thirty kilometres away. Those experienced in navigation were able to interpret the environment and examine “the ocean surface as we might look at a road map. Signs were there for anyone sufficiently trained to see” (Evans, Polynesian Navigation, 16).

44  Chapter 1 Information regarding techniques and navigational know­ ledge is stored in oral traditions, waiata, weaving, art, and karakia. But the information is not easily interpreted and there are no simple instructions for the navigator to follow; however, useful information is stored within the traditions. The narrative of the journey of the Takitimu canoe (one of the Great Fleet of seven canoes) includes such information: “Kia pai te takoto ihu o te waka i runga i a Kopu i te po; i te awatea ka whai i muri a Tama-nui-te-ra” (Keep the bow of the vessel carefully on Venus during the night and during the daylight follow behind Tama-nui-te-ra, the sun) (Evans, Polynesian Navigation, 51). A complicating factor regarding these traditions is that much of the information was discarded post-migration, because it was no longer needed and knowledge of the environ­­ment was then applied to the new context. For instance, stars became vital for subsistence, while previously they were navigational tools. This trend of discarding information that was no longer of use can also be seen in the decline of long-distance ocean-going vessels after Polynesian voyagers arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand. Celestial navigation using the stars is one of the most important methods used by Polynesian wayfinders. We have much evidence of navigators’ celestial knowledge and the role it played in the voyages. Navigators understood the cycle of the stars and were able to use the stars as direction markers during the night, and the sun during the day. This can be seen in traditions regarding the Te Arawa canoe and the migration of its passengers and crew. It is said that the navigators “understood the language of the stars, the children of the lord of light, Tane-nui-a-rangi; he conversed with the moon, Hinauri; and he kept the prow of Te Arawa pointed in a direction that was a little to the left of the setting sun.”16 The first voyage of the Hōkūle’a canoe was navigated by Nainoa Thompson and although he determined the course via his own method and did not exclusively use traditional 16  Mein Smith, A Concise History of New Zealand, 10.

Movement and Migration  45

accounts, the course taken did often end up being to the left of the setting sun.17 The Te Arawa canoe, along with the Aotea and Tainui, provides another interesting point of comparison with the voyage of the Hōkūle’a. Tradition recounts that when early voyagers on the Te Arawa canoe approached the shores of Aotearoa New Zealand, they spotted a mass of what they believed to be red feathers. In expectation of this wealth of feathers, they threw their headdresses into the sea. Upon arrival, it was discovered that what they had seen were the red blossoms of the pōhutukawa tree. When the Hōkūle’a arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand the pōhutukawa were blooming on the North Island coast; it can be deduced that the earlier seafarers were aware that this was the optimal time for voyaging.18 At first glance, such traditions could be dismissed by those of a positivist inclination. But to do so would be to miss the insight provided. Traditions are not intended to be read literally; their symbolism and purpose are key. This tradition is not a factual recollection of events, but it has been purposefully constructed to store and transmit knowledge about navigation. Although it is probably based on real events, it has been placed into a known mythic template which ensures memorization. It is an example of how knowledge about navigation was retained in oral tradition. The early navigators understood the link between nature and the conditions required for voyaging. Much navigational knowledge was based on detailed observation of natural phenomena, and as the navigators became familiar with the flowering of the pōhutukawa tree, this knowledge was woven into oral tradition to ensure its survival. The topic of movement and migration in relation to South Polynesia is one that has been fraught with controversy. 17  Chad Babayan, Ben Finney, Bernard Kilonsky, and Nainoa Thomp­ son, “Voyage to Aotearoa,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 96 (1987): 161–200.

18  Margaret Orbell, Hawaiki: A New Approach to Maori Tradition (Christ­­ church: Canterbury University Press, 1991), 39.

46  Chapter 1 Traditional accounts have been misinterpreted and much knowledge was lost through the process of colonization. Nevertheless, oral traditions remain that tell of the voyages to South Polynesia, and the importance of these can be seen in the role that migratory canoes continue to have in contemporary Māori identity in Aotearoa New Zealand. These traditions need to be appreciated within the world views they emerge from and they can offer useful insight into the early migrations. Despite some scholars and others claiming that Polynesians arrived in South Polynesia as a result of accidental voyaging, it has been shown not to be the case. Polynesian voyaging and navigation techniques were effective and grounded in a deep understanding of the environment. Navigators used the stars, sun, moon, waves, and birds to guide their way and identify their new land. What occurred when these people arrived in new lands, vastly different to their tropical homelands, will be discussed in the following chapter.

Chapter 2

Adaptation and Change

Adaptation and change are pertinent themes in the history of South Polynesia, a history defined by its short time frame and a significant amount of change. The South Polynesian islands were empty of human habitation and required innovative approaches for the new inhabitants to survive. A limited number of traditions relating to the initial arrival and settlement period exist, compared with traditions of the voyaging period. Part of the reason for this absence is due to one of the purposes of oral tradition, which was intended to recount and retain the information that was necessary to explain the present and how things came to be, not to retain details about day-to-day activities. In this section, the impact of human habitation on South Polynesia will be explored. Adaptation was not a quick process, and full understanding of new environments would have taken generations. When comparisons are made between South Polynesia and other regions, recognition that Polynesians were in completely new environments of which they had limited knowledge is often lacking. Due emphasis will be placed on this crucial factor, which defined the nature of South Polynesian history, and the adaptive skills of the early Indigenous settlers will be highlighted. Perhaps the greatest adaptation to the South Polynesian environment was in terms of subsistence; when people first arrived, they had to rethink everything they knew about food gathering and cultivation to adapt to their new environments.

48  Chapter 2

New Environments One of the greatest challenges upon arrival in South Polynesia was the temperate climate. The climatic conditions required extraordinary adaptation from the settlers, who had come from tropical zones, and this drove much of the change that occurred upon initial settlement. Climate determined many aspects of life in South Polynesia, from clothing to technology and shelter. Notably, the climate also required significant adaptation in terms of food and this will be discussed in the following section on subsistence. Aotearoa New Zealand is a completely temperate landmass in contrast to the rest of Polynesia, which is tropical or subtropical; Rēkohu off the east coast of the South Island has a similar climate. Within Aotearoa New Zealand itself there is significant regional variation in climate: it is much warmer in the North Island, particularly the northernmost part, than in the South. The case of Rapa Nui provides an interesting point of comparison, as it has a subtropical climate. An example of this difference was given by Alpers who noted that Rapa Nui traditions tell of “children sun-bathing after a swim” while in Rēkohu the traditions tell of “fog, and of chiefs who keep warm in sealskin cloaks” (Alpers, The World of the Polynesians, 1–2). Rapa Nui, Aotearoa New Zealand, and Rēkohu all developed in remarkably different ways as a result of their unique environments, and climate played a major role in these developments. When they first arrived, the Polynesian voyagers must have been impressed with the wealth of resources on offer. This would have been particularly true of those arriving in Aotearoa New Zealand due to its size. The environment was extremely rich in resources and would have seemed limitless. Aotearoa New Zealand would have been covered in forest at this point and it possessed a range of birds and sea mammals unused to human predation. Over time, there was a reasonably fast reduction in these resources, and therefore horticulture began to be adopted on a large scale. This was a pattern that occurred in nearly all of Polynesia, but is exemplified most visibly in Aotearoa New Zealand. It was soon under-

Adaptation and Change  49

stood that the resources were finite and efforts were made to conserve them. Despite these efforts, the early inhabitants did make a significant impact on their new environments. The Aotearoa New Zealand environment at the time of Polynesian arrival did not possess self-protective mechanisms and was therefore especially vulnerable to change. The migration voyages transported domestic animals to the new lands, animals that came to hold important roles, but also had negative impacts on the existing environments. The animals included kurī (Pacific dogs), pigs, and chickens; only the chicken became established in Rapa Nui and the dog in Aotearoa New Zealand. The kiore (Pacific rat) also arrived in South Polynesia with the settlers, either as a potential food source, or as stowaways on the canoes. A combination of archaeological and ethnographic research has shown that the kurī in Aotearoa New Zealand was used for hunting as well as a food source, with its skin being used for clothing afterwards. Similarly, Rapa Nui’s key animal import, the chicken, played a vital role in subsistence, as well as being used for ceremonial purposes and as a status symbol. The introduction of the kurī and kiore to Aotearoa New Zealand, along with hunting by humans, contributed to the extinction of some bird species and other vertebrates. One of the most extreme effects of the Polynesians on the Aotearoa New Zealand environment was deforestation. When European settlement occurred in the nineteenth century, around half the forest had already been lost. This begs the question, was deforestation a purposeful process or accidental? It has been suggested that it was purposeful and was intended to encourage the growth of non-cultivated edible plants after the effects of over-exploitation began to be felt. Another possible reason for deforestation was hunting of birds. The most probable cause of deforestation in Aotearoa New Zealand is burning by Polynesians. While there has been some debate concerning the extent of human impact versus natural occurrences, such as changes in climate, it is now widely accepted that human-induced fire was used to clear the forests, with the caveat that natural factors may

50  Chapter 2 have played a role. The debate over Polynesian intentions regarding deforestation should be thought of in a similar way to the debate surrounding voyaging ability. There is a deeprooted belief that early Polynesians were primitive and therefore could not have had the skills necessary for purposeful environmental change to develop the land for food. Yet, the sheer scale of deforestation supports the argument that it was a deliberate process. The full effects of these changes were felt by the mid-fifteenth century when the landscape would have looked completely different from when the first voyagers arrived. Some aspects of tradition relate to this process. For example, a tradition tells that a warrior named Ue started a fire in order to trap Pouakai (a giant bird), but strong winds “sprang up fanning the flames beyond any hope of control.” Beattie recorded this tradition in the early twentieth century and continued: “Large numbers of the people perished in the flames, and those who sought safety in caves, etc., were suffocated by the smoke. The ones who were saved took refuge in the wide rivers and in the sea. Yes! ‘Te Ahi-a-Ue’ was a terrible disaster to the people of those times, and often since, when the people saw a big smoke in the distance, they would exclaim ‘Te Ahi-a-Ue!’ [the fire of Ue].” As a result of this fire, the tradition, as recounted in later work, tells that “hundreds of thousands of hectares of forest and plains habitats were destroyed.”1 The Rapa Nui environment is a unique case due to its climate and the limited variety of plants and animals present. It is also particularly contentious: when Polynesians first arrived on Rapa Nui, around 70 percent of the land was covered in forest. The subsequent nearly total deforestation has provoked considerable interest because it is a particularly striking case 1  Hilary Mitchell and John Mitchell, Volume I: Te Tangata me te Whenua—The People and the Land, Te Tau Ihu o te Waka: A History of Nelson and Marlborough (Wellington: Huia, 2005), 50–51; H. Beattie, “Traditions and Legends Collected from the Natives of Murihiku (Southland, New Zealand) Part II,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 24 (1915): 130–39.

Adaptation and Change  51

of human impact. It has been the subject of numerous works and Rapa Nui has become a symbol of the ecological fall of societies. The story has been turned into a narrative so dominant that it has overpowered any evidence to the contrary. That the environment underwent major changes and degradation is generally accepted, but there is ongoing scholarly debate about the environmental impact of humans and its effects on culture and population. On one side, some scholars argue that Rapa Nui’s environmental change and degradation was the result of Polynesian activity and led to cultural decline before the arrival of Europeans in 1722. The most well-known of these works is Diamond’s Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed. Diamond bluntly argued that it “was the islanders themselves who had destroyed their own ancestors’ work” (Diamond, Collapse, 110). This argument proposed the idea that environmental and cultural collapse was complete before European contact. Diamond labelled Rapa Nui as a case of ecocide and used it as a metaphor for contemporary society. While history can provide useful insights for understanding the contemporary world, it can also be moulded into a predetermined shape when one is searching for information to back up already established claims. On the other side are those, such as Benny Peiser who argue the societal degradation was the result of European contact. Peiser, for example, contended that Diamond ignores the real reasons for the decline of Rapa Nui, and that “an actual genocide terminated Rapa Nui’s indigenous populace and culture.” Others, including Catherine and Michael Orliac, sought to determine the role played by climate changes in cultural developments, arguing for a greater emphasis to be placed on natural factors. The most likely conclusion from this argument is that climatic factors are not the sole cause of environmental change; however, they could have contributed.2 2  Benny Peiser, “From Genocide to Ecocide: The Rape of Rapa Nui,” Energy and Environment 16 (2005): 513–39; Catherine and Michael Orliac referenced in John Flenley and Paul Bahn, “Conflicting Views of Easter Island,” Rapa Nui Journal 21 (2007): 11–13

52  Chapter 2 Despite this debate over the role of humans in environmental degradation, it is widely accepted that Rapa Nui had undergone significant deforestation before European contact. Perhaps the most nuanced interpretation is that offered by Terry L. Hunt and Carl P. Lipo who contended that there was definitely deforestation and environmental degradation prior to European contact, but the cultural collapse occurred after European arrival due to the effects of slave trading and European introduced diseases.3 The Polynesian migrants to the lands of Aotearoa New Zealand, Rēkohu, and Rapa Nui encountered unknown environmental conditions. This required high levels of adaptation and innovation from the voyagers. The new inhabitants had severe impacts on the environments around them that should not be underestimated. But once these effects were noticed, there were often attempts to remedy the situation and halt overexploitation.

Subsistence Perhaps the greatest adaptation to the South Polynesian environment was in terms of subsistence. The first peoples had to rethink everything they knew about food gathering and cultivation and adapt to their new environments. Upon arrival there was significant adaptation in terms of horticulture. Further changes were required in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in Aotearoa New Zealand as hunting declined. Subsistence is a crucial area to understand as it clearly illustrates the adaptive skills of the Polynesians and was a primary focus of early settlements. Subsistence was of a different nature in South Polynesia when compared with that in other areas such as tropical East Polynesia, where it revolved around horticulture, fishing, and farming of animals. South Polynesia is a diverse and dispersed area and cannot be neatly categorized. Even within 3  Terry L. Hunt and Carl P. Lipo, “Revisiting Rapa Nui (Easter Island) ‘Ecocide,’” Pacific Science 62, no. 4 (2009): 601–16 at 601–2.

Adaptation and Change  53

one group of islands significant regional variation affected food practices. People living in the far south of Aotearoa New Zealand and Rēkohu faced a vastly different situation to those in the north. In the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand, taro, yam, and kūmara (sweet potato) were grown after some adaptations were made. In contrast, the South Island and Rēkohu were not conducive to horticulture and little to no cultivation could be practised. This meant that there was a greater reliance on “hunter–gatherer” subsistence practices in these areas. While it is true that hunting and gathering was an important part of subsistence, particularly in certain regions, it was not the entirety of South Polynesian subsistence despite a prevalent misconception that early Polynesian peoples were hunters and gatherers. Hunting of land mammals was undertaken, but the primary form of hunting was fishing. Similarly, marine animals and fish were crucial components of the first peoples’ diet on Rapa Nui. Fishing played an increasingly important role as the early Polynesians adapted to their new environments. This is seen in the example of Pūrākaunui, a site in the South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand that has been dated to the fourteenth century. At Pūrākaunui over two hundred thousand fish were caught within only a few years and this made up nearly 90 percent of all food there.4 From this, it can be seen that the scale of fishing was unprecedented and formed a vital part of the diet, particularly in areas where horticulture was near impossible. When Aotearoa New Zealand was first inhabited by Polynesians they discovered a land with an abundance of forest within which lived a range of bird species. Many of these birds were flightless, the most well-known the moa. These birds, along with other land animals, had adapted to their safe environment and were unused to predation. The moa is often the centre of any analysis of early subsistence in Aotearoa New 4  James Belich, Making Peoples: A History of the New Zealanders from Polynesian Settlement to the End of the Nineteenth Century (Auckland: Penguin, 1996), 70.

54  Chapter 2 Zealand, but it was merely a part of subsistence, and in some regions not even that. It has been shown that even where moa were present, marine animals were still the primary source of meat in the diet. One area where moa did form a major part of the diet for a time was on the east coast of the South Island. Archaeological studies have shown that at one river mouth over six thousand moa were killed within a short time period. Moa went extinct around 1450 CE and this certainly had an effect on those who relied on them as a key source of protein.5 As a result, subsistence practices became more focused on fishing and foraging. The decline of hunting and the increasing importance of fishing was accompanied by the development of horticulture. Archaeological studies have led to a tentative theory that horticulture was being practised from the beginning of settlement in Aotearoa New Zealand. It has been shown that horticulture was in place in various North Island locations in the twelfth century but did not begin to dominate until the thirteenth century. Of course, this is only applicable for parts of the North Island. Other studies have suggested that it was not until the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries that horticulture began to dominate. The evidence indicates that horticulture was present from early settlement and with the decline of other sources of food it became increasingly important. Cultivation was an essential adaptation for the early peoples, but the crops also required further adaptations such as new storage methods to preserve the food. The initial voyagers had brought with them a range of crops including kūmara, taro, yam, paper mulberry, and gourd. These crops were the ones that remained on European arrival, while other introduced crops failed. Those who arrived on Rapa Nui faced a similar situation, and therefore certain crops such as coconut trees and breadfruit could not be cultivated there. It was conducive, however, to the growth of kūmara, yam, taro, banana, and sugar cane owing to its sub-tropical climate. The adap5  Atholl Anderson, “The Making of the Māori Middle Ages. J.D. Stout Lecture,” Journal of New Zealand Studies (2016): 2–18.

Adaptation and Change  55

tation of plants to the new environments suggests that the hunter–gatherer stereotype is not a wholly accurate depiction. The importance of the kūmara cannot be stressed enough and it was a central component of the new arrivals’ diet in both Aotearoa New Zealand and Rapa Nui. This is reflected in traditions that tell of the introduction of crops from Hawaiki to the new lands. A Māori chant recounts: “Ko Hawaiki te whenua, e tupu noa mai te Kumara” (Hawaiki is the land where kūmara grows spontaneously), while a Moriori tradition tells that the kūmara was brought by Kahu but could not be grown in the temperate climate. Tribal traditions in Aotearoa New Zealand tell of the bringing of the kūmara from Hawaiki. One such tradition recounts the journey of a voyager, Te Aratawhao of the Bay of Plenty, returning to Hawaiki to collect kūmara seed for Māori who did not yet know of it. A similar tradition is found in the South Island. It is said that the Ārai-te-uru canoe returned to Hawaiki in order to get the kūmara. Another well-known tradition recounts that Rongorongo carried the kūmara seeds in her double belt to shelter them. In some parts of the North Island, kūmara is also known by the name “te tatua o Rongorongo” (the belt of Rongorongo). Other traditions tell of the kūmara coming to earth. Rongo Māui was an earth-dwelling hero and he asked Whānui, from the sky, if he could take some of his kūmara children to earth. Whānui denied Rongo Māui’s request, but Rongo Māui took them anyway. As Whānui grieved the loss of his children he sent grubs that would ruin the harvests.6 When Polynesian voyagers arrived in their new lands, they adapted their celestial knowledge used in navigation for use in food cultivation. The moon was of vital importance to understanding the environment and knowing when to plant. In particular, maramataka (moon calendars) were employed to inform cultivation practices. Maramataka are not uniform across different areas, being specific to particular places. Understanding the moon was also useful in observing the 6  For Māori tradition regarding kūmara see Smith, Hawaiki, 40–41; Buck, “The Value of Tradition in Polynesian Research,” 202–3.

56  Chapter 2 weather and migration of animals. A specific example of a maramataka is that of the Ngāti Kahungunu tribe in the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. In this tradition, it is said that the phase after the new moon known as Hoata is the time for fishing and planting. The presence of certain stars also signalled what needed to be done. When Poutūterangi (a star in the constellation Aquila) was in the sky in certain areas it was a signal to check the kūmara crops and prepare the storage pits.7 Despite such examples, early accounts were particularly prone to underemphasizing the abilities of the South Polynesians to cultivate and apply their existing knowledge to new environments. The successful cultivation of kūmara in Aotearoa New Zealand’s temperate climate is a clear example of the adaptive skills of the Polynesian peoples. Although the kūmara survived and could be grown in these new conditions, it would not have succeeded were it not for the development of innovative practices. In Aotearoa New Zealand the kūmara was an annual crop, so there was no room for failure, and if a crop failed it could have disastrous consequences. One of the new techniques adopted was the warming of the soil, achieved through planting the kūmara underneath soot-covered stones. Another tactic was to alter storage methods to ensure the crop remained safe after harvest. For instance, underground storage was used to protect the kūmara from frost. These techniques enabled Māori to adapt the kūmara from the tropical climate to the cooler climate and so produce a longer crop cycle. The success of this has been acknowledged by scholars as “an innovation of some magnitude.”8 Although the Polynesian arrivals were skilled at adapting the food sources brought with them on their voyages, they 7  Pauline Harris, Rangi Matamua, Takirirangi Smith, Hotorua Kerr, and Toa Waaka, “A Review of Māori Astronomy in Aotearoa–New Zealand,” Journal of Astronomical History and Heritage 16 (2013): 325–36. 8  D. E. Yen, “The Adaptation of Kumara by the New Zealand Maori,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 70, no. 3 (1961): 338–48.

Adaptation and Change  57

were also adept at using the resources available to them in their new homes. One of the key resources, the aruhe (edible fernroot) became a staple food source in many areas because of its ready availability. Aruhe had a bitter taste and was generally utilized as a food source only in times of scarcity and deprivation. But even the ever-present aruhe had to be encouraged and adapted to ensure continued availability. This was achieved through such acts as burning off sections of forest, which was known to stimulate aruhe growth. Another key food source was the karaka tree, which was found on Rēkohu, as well as in Aotearoa New Zealand. A tradition of the Moriori states that “Maruroa and Kauanga brought the Karaka berry from Hawaiki in the Rangimata canoe, and planted it all over the island, the places where it was set being named.”9 The karaka tree produced a valuable addition to the diet but it required a special process to ensure it was edible. The kernels were collected and cooked, before being steeped in water and left for a few weeks. This process removed the poisonous elements. Archaeological evidence supports the use of both existing plants, such as aruhe, and the cultivation of introduced crops. A range of gardens and horticultural sites have been studied by archaeologists and they reveal much about early subsistence in Aotearoa New Zealand. Hundreds of garden locations have been discovered in the South Island, with the clearest examples being found at the top of the island. These locations provide evidence of soil enhancement to improve conditions for growth, such as the addition of ash and gravel. This shows a deep understanding by the early Polynesians of the environment and how to adapt to it. Multiple examples have also been found in the North Island, with around five hundred gardens near the Waikato river.10 An insightful example of early horticultural practices is found at Palliser Bay, located near Wellington Harbour, at the 9  Shand, “The Moriori People of the Chatham Islands,” 82.

10  Mitchell and Mitchell, Te Tangata me te Whenua, 51; Anderson, “Making of the Māori Middle Ages,” 9.

58  Chapter 2 bottom of the North Island. Palliser Bay was an intensive and permanent gardening system, evidenced by the boundaries made of both stone and earth. It comprises over eighty hectares, primarily dated between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries. Palliser Bay provides one of the clearest early examples of horticultural practices. This clarity is a result of gardening being halted around 1550 CE when it became increasingly difficult due to climatic and environmental factors. This is in contrast to areas that were more conducive to horticulture, where the gardens were continually improved upon and cultivated, making it harder to discern earlier practices. As has been outlined, the new environments and sources of subsistence faced by the Polynesian migrants were of a vastly different nature to those in their homelands. As horticulture developed groups needed to become more settled. There was also an increasing imperative to protect food stores and cultivations. These factors influenced the emergence of pā (fortified villages).

Chapter 3

Complexity and Culture

As the early peoples adapted to their new environments, a series of interesting cultural developments occurred. In the initial period following arrival, groups did not need to venture far since the areas were rich in resources. But over time as population growth caused resources to come under strain, groups dispersed and formed new collectives. Too often South Polynesia, and indeed wider Polynesia, has been characterized as homogenous when it is anything but. The material cultures and economies of Polynesia were determined by the land and the resources available. Essentially, the process of adaptation of South Polynesian groups to their environments modified the cultures from East Polynesia to recognizable cultures influenced by their new locations. For example, Māori society, while heavily influenced by Polynesian origins, became distinguishable around the turn of the sixteenth century.1 This section explores developments in sociopolitical organization, settlements and fortifications, and art that reflect this distinctiveness. In order to understand the structure of Māori—and to a certain extent Moriori and Rapanui—societies some key concepts need to be outlined: whakapapa, mana, and tapu. Whakapapa is often translated as “genealogy” and while this 1  Janet Davidson, “From Seeds to Flowering,” in From the Beginning: The Archaeology of the Maori, ed. John Wilson (Auckland: Penguin, 1987), 43–48.

60  Chapter 3 is certainly part of it, it does not capture the complexity of the term. Whakapapa pervades every aspect of the Māori world and is the foundation of Māori knowledge. Everything in the world has whakapapa, and at the heart of the concept are relationships and connections, whether these be kin-based or not. It is how everything is connected. Mana is spiritual force or power, while tapu is generally translated as sacred, although once again the complexities are hard to translate. Mana and tapu played a role in all three societies, with whakapapa also being central to Māori and Moriori social political organization. Between 1200 and 1500 CE these concepts were developing and becoming more defined.2 It has now generally been accepted that there has always been some form of leadership in Māori society. These leaders derived their authority from both their ancestry and their personal attributes. In terms of inheriting leadership, there was a preference for firstborn males. This has been shown through oral traditions, many of which centre on the tales of chiefs or key ancestors after whom social groupings were named. A common theme is that the chiefs were born of a high-ranking line but they achieved their leadership status through their own merits and abilities. At the time of the migrations, leadership tended to be the realm of the canoe captains. Upon arrival and through a process of adaptation to the new environments, leadership was also adapted. In other words, as society split from canoe groupings into social units, so too did leadership. By the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, Māori society was becoming more settled and with this came a change in groupings. Groups began to emerge and were defined in terms of whakapapa, relationships, and geographic areas. The three primary groups of Māori society are iwi (tribe), hapū (subtribe), and whānau (extended family), although it is thought that the iwi grouping was probably not common until the eighteenth century. These groups were all defined 2  McRae, Māori Oral Tradition, 47; Davidson, “From Seeds to Flow­ ering,” 46.

Complexity and Culture  61

by whakapapa and a common ancestor that members were descended from. Throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries social organization continued to develop. This has been attributed to population growth and increased levels of competition for resources. This change began in a scattered manner, but near the end of the sixteenth century it is thought to have been widespread throughout Aotearoa New Zealand. However, the bottom of the South Island did not follow the same pattern due to the extreme difference in environment. In what has been labelled the traditional phase (1500 to 1700 CE) by Atholl Anderson, social organization in both Aotearoa New Zealand and Rēkohu was reasonably flat. The most common group was the hapū, which were led by chiefs.3 The best example of the South Island sociopolitical organization and material culture is that of Te Pokohiwi o Kupe, better known today as the Wairau Bar, a fourteenth-century site located in the northeast of the South Island. The location was an advantageous one when it was settled. Moa hunting and horticulture were both possible, and it was close to sources of stone. The establishment of more permanent sites enabled further specialization in material culture to emerge. Evidence found in excavations, such as chisels for tattooing, hammer stones, files, and abraders for polishing, testify to the role of Wairau Bar in early industry.4 Wairau Bar is one of the most important archaeological sites in Aotearoa New Zealand and has been the subject of numerous excavations and studies. This site provides a significant amount of the information we currently have regarding early settlement in Aotearoa New Zealand. The site is around seven hectares and contains a wealth of insight into early 3  Atholl Anderson, “Emerging Societies, AD 1500–1800,” in Tangata Whenua: An Illustrated History, ed. Atholl Anderson, Judith Binney and Aroha Harris (Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2014), 105, 128.

4  Richard Walter, Hallie Buckley, Chris Jacomb and Elizabeth Matisoo-Smith, “Mass Migration and the Polynesian Settlement of New Zealand,” Journal World History 30 (2017): 351–76 at 355.

62  Chapter 3 life. Some of the key discoveries include small rectangular houses, several cemeteries, and extensive middens. In addition to this, around “39 tonnes of argillite debris from adze manufacture; 33 tonnes of bone representing 4,000–12,000 moa butchered; some 2,400 moa eggs; and 1,600 tonnes of shell, mostly cockle” have been found.5 Wairau Bar also provides evidence of the link with wider Polynesia. For instance, the discovery of a chisel from the tropics has led scholars to think that the Wairau Bar could be a site of direct settlement from East Polynesia.6 It is a particularly useful site as it provides evidence of status and wealth, both individual and communal. One of the key aspects that provides insight are the burials that evidenced some form of social hierarchy, with certain individuals buried with objects of high value. Moriori society was divided along tribal lines based on descent from a common ancestor, with each tribe having defined, geographic boundaries. Between thirty and one hundred people were in each grouping, and settlements were generally occupied on a seasonal basis. By the sixteenth century, Moriori society had developed to closely resemble the culture encountered by Europeans in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This society was less hierarchical than in other areas of Polynesia and became flatter over time. This egalitarian social structure developed over time on Rēkohu where the environment was not conducive to high levels of social organization. Leadership in this context was merit-based rather than inherited, and leaders did not possess significant power. Moriori leaders were difficult to distinguish from the rest of the population as they did not wear any markers of their status, such as tattoos or jewellery. Decisions appear to have been made relatively collectively and leaders possessed powers of persuasion rather than coercion (King, Moriori, 25–26). 5  Anderson, “Pieces of the Past,” 77.

6  Bruce G. McFadgen and Peter Adds, “Tectonic Activity and the History of Wairau Bar, New Zealand’s Iconic Site of Early Settle­ ment,” Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand (2018): 1–15 at 3.

Complexity and Culture  63

Rapa Nui societal organization, on the other hand, was defined in many ways by its hierarchy. It was based on chiefdom and divided into territorial areas that were known as mata and these were populated by groups of people organized by descent, known as kainga. One of the clearest examples of the social hierarchy and organization are the marae structures on Rapa Nui known as ahu, which were a part of all levels of society. A common style for the ahu was for it to be shaped like a canoe. Marae are stone temple platforms which are dated to before 1000 CE and were developing into more complex structures in the period 1300 to 1550 CE. These structures were influenced by East Polynesian marae, which were originally built to worship ancestor gods of the family. This link can be seen in name ahu; East Polynesian marae had a raised platform which was known as ahu or tu-ahu. Marae, in various forms, are found throughout the Pacific and in a general sense are ceremonial platforms or sites. The dedication to building these structures highlights the importance of social hierarchy in Rapanui society. These structures, along with other ceremonial ones, also influenced a change in locations of settlement, which became centred around sacred locations and structures.

Conflict A key feature of any society is how conflict is dealt with: is warfare a common feature or does peace prevail? The case of South Polynesia provides some interesting contrasts in this regard. For Māori, warfare was part of society, although its importance has been exaggerated, whereas for Moriori, peace was preferred and there was a surprising lack of warfare. The case of Rapa Nui is harder to determine and, from what evidence exists, it appears there was warfare, of which little is known. In the Māori world, there is a god of war, known as Tūmatauenga, one of the offspring of Rangi and Papa. This god, often referred to as Tū, was also responsible for creating digging sticks, traps, and nets. Male children were at times

64  Chapter 3 dedicated to Tū and the following karakia for this purpose was recorded by ethnographer Elsdon Best in the early twentieth century: Kia hāpai patu koe | To uplift thy weapons, Kia mau patu koe | To carry thy arms, Kia karo patu koe | To parry fierce blows, Kia mau toa koe | To catch the bravest, Kia tāngaengae koe | Be thou strong and able, Kia wete (? whete) koe | To grimace in the war dance, Kia ngāwari koe | To be lithe and quick Kia whiwhia ki te pehu o Tū | And acquire the power of Tū Whiwhia, rawea | Possess it! Hold it! Ka puta koe ki te whai ao | Come forth to the world of being Ki te ao mārama | To the world of light.7

There were guiding concepts that underpinned warfare in Māori society. The most important of which is known as utu which is a form of reciprocity. It has often been translated as revenge but it is more accurately thought of as reciprocity, in a positive or negative sense. It was all about balance, so if a member of one’s group was killed, the one responsible or one of their relatives needed to be taken in response. The principle of utu is linked to mana in this sense, because to ignore such an event would reduce the mana of the group. It is now thought that as the population grew and resources became scarcer in the sixteenth century there was an increase in warfare. Despite this increase, warfare was not the primary focus of society and its role has often been over­stated. For instance, it has been proposed that Māori are more inclined towards violence due to a “warrior gene.” This myth continues to permeate contemporary society in Aotearoa New Zealand despite being discredited. 7  Elsdon Best, Notes on the art of war, as conducted by the Māori of New Zealand, with accounts of various customs, rites, superstitions, &c., pertaining to war, as practised and believed in by the ancient Māori, ed. Jeff Evans (Auckland: Reed, in association with the Polynesian Society, 2001), 12.

Complexity and Culture  65

In contrast to the situation in Aotearoa New Zealand, one of the interesting aspects of Moriori society was that it was essentially peaceful and free of warfare. Killing during a conflict was prohibited and the end of the conflict was determined by the first injury. As a result of these rules, there were few weapons, as they were simply not necessary. This information was held in oral traditions, passed down the generations, and then collected by scholars such as Shand in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It was also noted by Michael King that there is no archaeological evidence to the contrary, and even if the tradition surrounding it is not “literally true,” it was certainly followed and respected (King, Moriori, 26). A Moriori oral tradition recounts that the ancestor Nunukuwhenua was tired of the wars between tribes and during one particular engagement, he ordered the fighting to cease (King, Moriori, 26): “Onlookers, gather all arms and stack them there!” Obediently the arms were stacked. “Build a fire and cast the arms on top!” The fire was built, the spears and claymores of wood were burnt, yet no word was spoken in protest. “Rauru! Wheteina! arise and meet!” They arose and met. “Touch nose to nose!” Nose to nose was touched. “Listen all! From now and forever, never again let there be war as this day has been! From today on forget the taste of human flesh! Are you fish that eat their young?” So it was there agreed that because men get angry and during such anger feel the will to strike, that so they may, but only with a rod the thickness of a thumb, and one stretch of the arms in length, and thrash away, but that on an abrasion of the hide, or first sign of blood, all should consider honour satisfied. “And,” said the teller, “all obeyed! Why? Because of the Nunuku curse: “May your bowels rot the day you disobey!”

Rapa Nui provides an interesting comparison to the situ­­ ations in Rēkohu and Aotearoa New Zealand. Similar to the people in Aotearoa New Zealand when resources declined, Rapa Nui society also faced an increase in warfare in the fif-

66  Chapter 3 teenth and sixteenth centuries. This is evidenced by archaeological excavations, which have determined that weapons known as mataa (spearheads) were only made from around 1300 CE, and their use increased until 1650 CE. The increase in warfare in Rapa Nui is generally thought to have coincided with the end of moai (statue) construction at the turn of the sixteenth century. This was most probably due to a lack of resources to continue production, partly as a result of deforestation.8 Rapa Nui tradition, recorded by Europeans post-contact, tells of a war between two main groups: the “long ears” (Hanau Eepe) and the “short ears” (Hanau Momoko). It is generally believed to have occurred around 1680 CE and this date is often mentioned as a turning point in Rapa Nui history. The location of the battle has been associated with the archaeological site called the Poike ditch. This ditch may have been used for other purposes such as irrigation. This tradition reinforced the archaeological evidence of the weaponry discovered, although some problems with this tradition, its subsequent interpretation, and how the date was determined have been raised, since it was recorded around two hundred years after the event. The date was first determined by ethnographer and missionary, Father Sebastian Englert. Englert used genealogical calculations and, at the time he was working in the early to mid-twentieth century, it was thought that Rapa Nui had a much shorter timeline of occupation.9 Whether or not this event occurred remains open to interpretation; it is possible that it is a metaphor for the environmental decline of Rapa Nui.

8  Patrick D. Nunn, “Environmental Catastrophe in the Pacific Islands around A.D. 1300,” Geoarchaeology: An International Journal 15, no. 7 (2000): 715–40; Patrick D. Nunn and James M. R. Britton, “Human-Environment Relationships in the Pacific Islands around A.D. 1300,” Environment and History 7, no. 1 (2001): 3–22. 9  Carl P. Lipo and Terry L. Hunt, “A.D. 1680 and Rapa Nui Prehistory,” Asian Perspectives 48, no. 2 (2009): 309–17.

Complexity and Culture  67

Architecture and Settlements The changes leading to warfare that occurred in these societies also led to other cultural developments. Notably, settlement patterns and architecture changed. One of the interesting developments that occurred in Aotearoa New Zealand was the advent of new settlements known as pā (fortified villages) around 1500 to 1550 CE. Pā are a fascinating phenomenon because they are essentially the only example of monumental architecture in the Aotearoa New Zealand context. They were primarily a North Island phenomenon, because that island was more conducive to horticulture and had a larger population. One of the primary reasons for the emergence of pā was the protection of resources, such as the kūmara vegetable. As more intensive horticultural practices developed, so too did new storage methods and the need to remain more settled to protect the food sources. Although there were still high levels of mobility for resource gathering, the pā provided a site that protected the group’s resources and was easily defended by those who remained behind. The emergence of pā also coincided with a population increase which led to resource scarcity, hence providing extra motivation to guard the group’s resources. Not all pā were built for the same purpose and their purpose did not necessarily remain the same over time. Although the main purpose was storage and protection of food sources, some pā sites show that they were occupied but did not have food storage facilities, while others were built for defensive reasons and were not necessarily ever occupied. It has been suggested that the rise of pā may reflect increasing levels of social hierarchy, but it has been convincingly argued that they should be more accurately understood as evidence of group cohesion rather than leadership and hierarchy. One of the methods used to identify pā sites is through examining postholes; in some cases the posts themselves have remained as a result of preservation in swamp conditions. This is similar to the evidence for Anglo-Saxon buildings, which were also built from wood, and for which other evidence is absent. Significant variations exist between different pā, and of the six thousand known examples some are

68  Chapter 3 as small as twenty-five square metres, with others as large as twenty-five hectares or sixty acres.10 It is difficult to gain a full picture of the appearance and use of pā due to gaps in the historical record. It is also hard to generalize about their features because there was such a variety. The term pā includes a range of sites: some were hills that had been manipulated by terracing, while some consisted of ditches, and others palisaded swamp areas. A majority of pā sites were located on hills or swamps and could thus be defended easily. The one factor that defines all pā is defences, for both inhabitants and resources. They were wooden structures and tended to be surrounded by the defences, whether they were ditches or palisades. There were also other settlements known as kāinga which were generally made up of hapū members. They varied significantly in size and were located near natural resources. At times kāinga were fortified and sometimes it can be hard to differentiate between these and pā. It was common for these kāinga to be located near a pā for protection. There is significantly less information available for these settlements than for pā, because the archaeological remains are fewer and harder to discover. The key indicators of kāinga are postholes and hearths, as well as soil evidence.11 The houses that made up these settlements were influenced by the Polynesian origins of those building them. They were generally rectangular and began to develop some uniquely Māori features, such as a porch, quite swiftly. The earliest example was found in the Moikau Valley in the southeast tip of the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. Known as the Moikau house, it was dated to the twelfth century. It is a very basic kāinga, rectangular in shape, and made of timber. It measures 6.7 × 4.4 metres in total, with 1.8 metres 10  Richard Walter, Ian Smith, and Chris Jacomb, “Sedentism, Sub­­sistence and Socio-Political Organization in Prehistoric New Zealand,” World Archaeology 38, no. 2 (2006): 274–90 at 284–85. 11  Anderson, “Pieces of the Past,” 90–92; Nigel Prickett, “Shelter and Security,” in From the Beginning: The Archaeology of the Maori, ed. John Wilson (Auckland: Penguin, 1987), 103–5.

Complexity and Culture  69

being taken up by the porch and the inside measuring just 4.9 × 4.4 metres. The porch would have been a hearth which, along with the timber that made up the walls, indicated its presence to archaeologists.12 Kāinga were the dominant form of settlement in the South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand and Rēkohu, while pā were relatively uncommon. In the case of Rēkohu, there were no pā or any other form of fortified settlements. Archaeological evidence analysed in the late twentieth century provides vast insight into Moriori settlements on Rēkohu. The evidence is dated to the sixteenth century and derived from the southwest coast of Rēkohu. It showed that occupation centred on one village which was occupied all year round. It is estimated that there was no more than around one hundred people spread between just ten rectangular houses.13 The village was well organized and consisted of houses, a burial area, a food preparation and cooking space, and waste disposal areas. In the case of Rapa Nui settlements, locations were often determined by religious structures, such as the ahu. Around these locations, there is evidence of stone housing for the elite, which highlights the hierarchical nature of the society. These stone structures were known as hare paenga, or boat/ canoe-shaped houses. They were made from slabs of basalt and wood and would have required enormous effort to construct. When these houses were encountered by Europeans in the late nineteenth century they were described as having dark interiors with holes for doors, as the entries to the houses were less than half a metre wide. Many hare paenga were dismantled and the material repurposed for other structures, although the dating of this dismantling is not certain. One of the key ways in which the materials were reused was in caves, known as ana kionga. The stones were used to construct entrances to the caves and to fortify the walls. These caves 12  Davidson, “From Seeds to Flowering,” 46; Prickett, “Shelter and Security,” 98. 13  Douglas G. Sutton, “A Culture History of the Chatham Islands,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 89, no. 1 (1980): 67–94.

70  Chapter 3 were used as shelters but there is a lack of evidence as to when and why. The most common form of dwelling was thatched houses which were constructed using wood and stone. A fascinating example of Rapa Nui housing and architecture is the village of Orongo. In the mid-sixteenth century, Orongo consisted of fifty stone houses in close proximity to one another. It is believed that construction began sometime after the turn of the fifteenth century and it was during this time that the ahu originally there stopped being used. The interior of each house was between six and twelve metres wide, and one to two metres high. It is thought that these structures were in place for the annual sea-bird egg challenge of the Birdman cult. On top of the stone houses, up to two metres of dirt was heaped to protect them from the elements.14

Art The changes and developments that occurred in South Polynesian societies are reflected in the emerging art styles of these cultures. As Māori society was developing between 1200 and 1500 CE a distinctly Māori artistic style was emerging. In particular, art went through significant developments in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries when society was becoming increasingly settled. It was during this period that woodcarving really developed, which is the art form most commonly associated with Māori. As Māori society became more hierarchical in the sixteenth century, artistic production increased. This period, from 1500 to 1800 CE was when art became increasingly complex and has been labelled Te Puawaitanga (the Flowering).15 14  John Flenley and Paul Bahn, The Enigmas of Easter Island (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 175; Thomson, Te Pito o te Henua, 479, 482. 15  Davidson, “From Seeds to Flowering,” 46–47; Sidney Moko Mead, “Ka Tupu Te Toi Whakairo Ki Aotearoa: Becoming Maori Art,” in Te Maori: Maori Art from New Zealand Collections, ed. Sidney Moko Mead (Auckland: Heinemann, 1985), 63–75 at 73–74.

Complexity and Culture  71

Tradition tells that carving was created by the gods and was passed down to man over time. One such tradition was recorded in the late nineteenth century by a man named Mokena Romio who was of the Ngāti Porou and Ngāti Hauiti tribes (Mead, in Te Maori, ed. Mead, 64–66). The tradition says that a man named Ruatepupuke offended the god of the sea, Tangaroa, and as a result Tangaroa had to obtain utu. Tangaroa was one of the children of Rangi and Papa, and Ruatepupuke was the grandchild of Tangaroa, and therefore he was himself of godly origin. Tangaroa seized Ruatepupuke’s son, Manuruhi, and took him to the bottom of the sea. Once there, he turned Manuruhi into a bird decoration for his carved house, but he retained his voice and movement. Ruatepupuke found Manuruhi and saw that the figures that decorated the house could speak but could not leave their position. Ruatepupuke set the house on fire and removed the decorative figures to take them back to the land. Variations of this tradition exist, with this being just one example. The idea that the carvings can talk and move in the tradition is conveying the need for carvings to communicate to their audience. Because carving came from the gods, there were tapu guidelines in place and their production was protected by specially trained tohunga whakairo (carving experts) who were trained in the art.16 Traditions such as this provide complementary information to archaeological information. The art and material culture of the Moriori was like most other aspects of life, influenced and determined by the environment. One of the most recognized forms of Moriori art was that practised on trees. The trees often used for wood carving, such as the totara in Aotearoa New Zealand, were not present on Rēkohu; images were instead carved into living karaka trees. There have been suggestions at various times that the images were of European origin, but there is 16  Bernie Kernot, “Nga Tohunga Whakairo o Mua: Maori Artists of Time Before,” in Te Maori: Maori Art from New Zealand Collections Revised, ed. Sidney Moko Mead (Auckland: Heinemann, 1985), 138–55.

72  Chapter 3 no evidence to suggest there is any truth to these claims. Tree-carving may have emerged in part due to cultural inheritance and partly because of environmental factors, primarily the weather, meaning that shelter was sought in the karaka trees of the forest. Oral testimony regarding these images was collected in the 1940s from eleven people aged from seventy to eighty-five. Each person stated with certainty that “the carvings were very old, made before the Maoris, some 900 of them, came to the Chathams in 1835.” In the 1940s, a Moriori woman recalled that in the late nineteenth century her grandfather took her to see the carvings and said: “These are your people. These are the work of your ancestors. Look after them. Do not let the pakeha [non-Māori or Moriori] touch them any [more].”17 The images carved into the trees primarily depict human figures and bird figures. A study conducted in the 1940s and 1950s found that 204 of 262 carvings depicted human figures in various forms. The forms consisted of headless anthropomorphic figures, blank-faced figures, specific individuals, and figures with some significance to the community. Figures of commemorative significance are known as whakapahoho and this was said to be when carvings were intended to depict specific people. While these images were not realistic depictions, the person would be recognizable through a particular aspect of the image that people associated with that figure, such as a weapon or physical feature.18 Rapanui art is most often associated with the giant statues that have come to be synonymous with the island. The production of giant structures, known as moai, is thought to have begun not long after settlement, but by about the turn of the sixteenth century they were no longer being produced. The history of Rapa Nui prior to European contact in the eighteenth century has been divided into two key periods: the Ahu 17  Christina Jefferson, “The Dendroglyphs of the Chatham Islands,” The Journal of the Polynesian Society 64, no. 4 (1955): 367–441 at 377.

18  For more on dendroglyphs see Jefferson, “The Dendroglyphs of the Chatham Islands.”

Complexity and Culture  73

Moai phase, from around 1000 to 1500 CE and the Huri Ahu phase, from around 1500 to 1722 CE, the former phase being characterized by the creation, transportation, and establishment of the moai around Rapa Nui, the latter being defined by their destruction. This change has been explained as a result of an increasingly conflict-riven society. This may have impacted moai construction, because high levels of cooperation were required for the production of moai.19 It is after this destruction period that there were changes in rock art, notably the emergence of the birdman images. The main portrayal of the bird in Rapanui art is in the form of rock art. Despite this being an important form of art on Rapa Nui, it has been largely neglected in the literature and in popular discourse about Rapa Nui. Over four thousand examples of rock art have been found, spread across one thousand locations. As with the settlements, the rock art is often located near to religious structures. The birdman image began to be depicted around the mid-sixteenth century. This image depicts the head of a bird on the body of a man. The bird was an important part of life on Rapa Nui and it came to have significant influence on society and beliefs.20 The adaption of Polynesians to their new environments led to the development of distinct cultures that were influenced by their new environments. Although there is a dearth of information on social organization during the time period in question, some understanding can be gained from oral traditions and archaeology. Places such as the Wairau Bar provide us with archaeological evidence, as do pā excavations, while traditions such as those surrounding Tūmatauenga, and the information recorded in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, add a different layer to the evidence. The role of warfare in these societies provides interesting comparison 19  Hunt and Lipo, “Revisiting Rapa Nui,” 611; Nunn and Britton, “Human-Environment Relationships,” 6.

20  Georgia Lee, Rock Art of Easter Island: Symbols of Power, Prayers to the Gods (Los Angeles: Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 1992), 9, 15, 22.

74  Chapter 3 as a result of the varying levels of importance it had. In particular, the lack of warfare in Rēkohu is a fascinating case of development in relation to the environment and social factors. Finally, the art work that emerged in these societies has much to tell us, although little is known for certain. Works such as the giant moai and birdman rock art of Rapa Nui will always remain somewhat of a mystery, but the mere existence of these tells us of the high skill level of these people and of the important cultural symbols such as the bird.

Conclusion

This is the journey of sacred footsteps Journeyed about the earth journeyed about the heavens The journey of the ancestral god Tānenuiarangi Who ascended into the heavens to Te Tihi-o-Manano Where he found the parentless source From there he retrieved the baskets of knowledge Te kete-tuauri Te kete-tuatea Te kete-aronui These were distributed and implanted about the earth From which came human life Growing from dim light to full light There was life.

In this tradition, which I have recounted at the beginning and end of our present book, Tāne ascended to the heavens to retrieve the three baskets of knowledge. Tāne was required to outsmart those standing in his way to get to them. These baskets are te kete tuauri (sacred knowledge/light), te kete tuatea (ancestral knowledge/darkness), and te kete aronui (knowledge in front of us/pursuit). These baskets are thought to never be full, and thus there is always room for further knowledge. The baskets should not be separated, and all three forms of knowledge are essential. Knowledge is not achieved without challenge and questioning, and, just as Tāne ascended to the heavens, we must challenge ourselves and the knowledge we hold, continually seeking to expand

76  Conclusion our understanding. We must also not discount any form of knowledge, since to seek merely one form is to not appreciate the nature of knowledge. This short work has attempted to provide a brief overview of South Polynesia from 900 to 1600 CE while also trying to convey the world views of the South Polynesians during this period. Its writing was in response to the global turn in history as a discipline, and more specifically a wider global approach to medieval history. Non-European histories and perspectives have long been subjugated by dominant, external, and often limiting perspectives. I hope that this presentation of South Polynesia has helped a process of historical self-reflection. In particular, I hope that the nature of non-written source materials and their value has been conveyed. Just like all source material, they have limitations, but these do not outweigh the benefits. In this regard, this book has offered a written account that incorporates oral traditions, historical analysis, and archaeology. As was noted in the introduction, “Polynesia” itself is a Western construction of space that does not lend itself to Polynesian understandings of space and geography. I hope I have shown that to write of Polynesia as a homogenous whole is nonsensical. Polynesian identities are diverse and unique. Perceptions of space provide an essential conceptual base to understanding the world views of Polynesian groups; similarly, notions of time are not universal. The beliefs and cosmologies of the Māori, Moriori, and Rapanui have been outlined to show how these groups made sense of and understood their worlds. Although some of the same gods were present in traditions across Polynesia, they developed in ways specific to each group. The most important snippet to remember from this discussion is that the “gods” of Polynesia are best seen as spiritual beings who exist in the constant present. The first major section centred on the themes of movement and migration, and conveyed the remarkable voyaging and navigation skills of the Polynesians. The histories surrounding this theme have often been misinterpreted. The pri-

Conclusion  77

mary aim was to challenge outdated views. In addition to this, the use of oral traditions as central source material shows their value for historians. Traditions such as that of Māui showed the power and pervasiveness of oral traditions as a source. Despite the specifics that arose in certain locations, Māui traditions have remained consistent and have much to offer. Other traditions, such as those of Kupe and his voyage to Aotearoa New Zealand, illustrated how key information has been stored in an oral form for generations. Oral traditions provide valuable information regarding the migrations, as they enable us to understand the perspectives of those people. As with any source, one must first understand the world views that traditions have emerged from. We have explored the more technical side of voyaging and navigation. This began with a necessary debunking of the idea that Polynesian voyagers arrived in their new lands simply by accident. Despite a range of studies disproving this idea, it recurs in popular discourse. Instead, we have shown how Polynesian navigators used their ability to interpret the environment to enable accurate navigation. In Chapter 2 the theme of adaptation and change was explored. On their arrival the Polynesian settlers were required to make unprecedented adaptations to their new environments to ensure survival. We emphasized how these people encountered completely new environments of which they had no knowledge before arrival. To adapt and then thrive was a significant achievement. The strongest example of this is the swift adoption of more sustainable practices when it became clear that the resources of their new lands were not as limitless as they may have appeared at first. Perhaps the greatest adaptation was in terms of subsistence. Any conception that early Polynesians were hunter–gatherers is an oversimplification, since cultivation also played an important role. In new lands with different climates and food sources the Polynesians had to adapt the knowledge they held and apply it to different contexts. For instance, the application of knowledge of the environment, previously used for voyaging, became crucial to food cultivation.

Complexity and culture, described in the last section, are evident in the emergence of cultures distinct from the voyagers’ former homelands. These changes were in part influenced by the resources available in their new lands, which in turn affected the economies and settlements that emerged. For example, Māori society was becoming more settled through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and sociopolitical organization continued to develop as a result of a growth in resources and population. An interesting point of comparison between Aotearoa New Zealand, Rēkohu, and Rapa Nui was provided by the analysis of warfare and its role in society. For instance, warfare was far more prevalent in Māori society than for Moriori, where killing during conflict was banned. Significant changes occurred in regard to settlement and architecture. One of the most interesting cases is the development of pā, fortified villages, sometimes of vast expanse, which provide the only example of monumental architecture in Aotearoa New Zealand. These pā grew in response to increasing resource scarcity and populations. In the Rapa Nui context, settlements were determined in relation to religious structures, and the emergence of hare paenga or boat-shaped houses provides evidence of the hierarchical nature of society. The last section concluded with an examination of the artistic styles that emerged. As Māori society became more settled, a distinct artistic style developed. From around the sixteenth century it became increasingly sophisticated, with wood carving becoming an important form. One of the key forms of art for the Moriori, however, was tree carving, often depicting bird and human figures. Perhaps the most monumental of art was that of the Rapanui and their giant moai structures, which are still remarkable today. The other key form of Rapanui art was rock art, where the bird was most often the subject. This book has necessarily provided a brief overview and by its very nature cannot offer an in-depth and complete analysis of South Polynesia during this period. There is much further research needed and it is hoped that this work may provide the impetus for this.

Whaowhia te kete mātauranga Fill the basket of knowledge

Glossary

Hawaiki iwi kūmara mana Māori moa moai Moriori Papa or Papatūānuku Rangi or Ranginui Rapa Nui Rapanui Rēkohu tapu tohunga utu Vikings waiata

whakapapa

Polynesian homeland or ancient Polynesian homeland tribe sweet potato Māori concept of spiritual force or power Indigenous peoples of Aotearoa New Zealand flightless New Zealand bird, now extinct monolithic carved human figures on Rapa Nui Indigenous peoples of the Chatham Islands Earth-Mother and ancestor of humanity Sky-Father and ancestor of humanity Easter Island inhabitants of Rapa Nui Chatham Islands Māori concept of sacredness expert, priest Māori concept of reciprocity and balance medieval Scandinavian seafarers songs

Māori concept connection and genealogy

Further Reading

Alpers, Antony. The World of the Polynesians: Seen through Their Myths and Legends, Poetry and Art. Auckland: Oxford University Press, 1987.

A useful collection of traditions from Polynesia dealing with topics such as creation, heroes, and migration.

Anderson, Atholl, Judith Binney, and Aroha Harris, eds. Tangata Whenua: An Illustrated History. Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2014.

For an overview history of Māori from ancient times to today. See in particular Anderson’s chapters on the history of New Zealand, phase-by-phase: from 3000 BCE to 1300 CE (pp. 16–40), 1150–1450 CE (42–69), 1200–1800 CE (70–101), and 1500–1800 CE (102–31).

Anderson, Atholl. The First Migration: Maori Origins 3000BC–AD1450. Wellington: Bridget Williams, 2016. This short work utilizes oral tradition, archaeology, and ethnography to detail the origins of Māori and the voyages to Aotearoa New Zealand.

Beattie, Herries. Tikao Talks: Traditions and Tales of the Canterbury Maori as Told by Teone Taare Tikao to Herries Beattie. Dunedin: A. H. and A. W. Reed, 1939. Contains traditions and information collected by Beattie from a South Island Māori leader, Tikao, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Bellwood, Peter S. The Polynesians: Prehistory of an Island People. London: Thames and Hudson, 1987. Provides a thorough overview of the histories of Polynesia with an archaeological focus.

84  Further Reading Crowe, Andrew. Pathway of the Birds: The Voyaging Achievements of Māori and Their Polynesian Ancestors. Auckland: Bateman, 2018.

This work offers a comprehensive summary of Polynesian voyaging and is written in an accessible style with accompanying illustrations.

Davidson, Janet. The Prehistory of New Zealand. Auckland: Longman Paul, 1984.

This book gives an in-depth archaeological analysis of early Aotearoa New Zealand and provides useful commentary on the nature of archaeology and oral traditions.

Diamond, Jared M. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed. New York: Viking, 2005. Now largely dismissed study claiming environmental destruction on Rapa Nui (Easter Island) had taken place by 1600.

Edwards, Edmundo and Alexandra Edwards. When the World Was an Island: Exploring the Cultural and Spiritual Cosmos of Ancient Rapa Nui. Easter Island: Hangaroa, 2013.

A comprehensive and up to date exploration of Rapa Nui history and culture. Employs a range of source materials including traditions, archaeology, and ethnography.

Evans, Jeff. Polynesian Navigation and the Discovery of Aotearoa. Auckland: Libro International, 2011. Gives an overview of navigation and migration to Aotearoa New Zealand. It utilizes oral traditions and the navigational information contained in them. First published in 1998 as The Discovery of Aotearoa.

Haun, Beverley. Inventing “Easter Island.” Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008.

Discusses perceptions and narratives of Rapa Nui and how these have been constructed. Uses an interdisciplinary cultural theory approach alongside post-colonial theory. Essential reading to understand the construction of “Easter Island.”

Howe, Kerry R., ed. Vaka Moana: Voyages of the Ancestors. The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific. Auckland: Bateman, 2006.

A collection of essays on voyaging by Polynesians from their origins to modern attempts at reviving and retaining this ancient knowledge. See in particular the chapters by Ben Finney and Sam Low on navigation (pp. 154–197); K. R. Howe on Western perceptions of Polynesian origins (270–87); Geoffrey Irwin on voyaging and settlement (54–91); Roger Neich on voyaging (198–245); and Rawiri Taonui on oral traditions (22–53).

Further Reading  85

King, Michael. Moriori: A People Rediscovered. Auckland: Penguin, 2000.

The seminal text on Moriori histories, this text was written in consultation with the Moriori people and attempts to correct the outdated narratives that dominate the discourse.

Lewis, David. We, the Navigators: The Ancient Art of Landfinding in the Pacific. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994.

A thorough examination of Polynesian navigation techniques, motivations for voyaging, and its contemporary renaissance.

McCall, Grant. Rapanui: Tradition and Survival on Easter Island. Hono­­ lulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994. An exploration of Rapa Nui history and how it has been perceived by outsiders. This work also considers Rapa Nui in a contemporary and global context.

McRae, Jane. Māori Oral Tradition: He Kōrero nō te Ao Tawhito. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2017.

An easy to read and in-depth explanation of various modes of oral traditions. Discusses their relevance both historically and in contemporary society.

Mead, Sidney Moko, ed. Te Maori: Maori Art from New Zealand Collections Revised. Auckland: Heinemann, 1985.

See in particular the chapters by Bernie Kernot on carving (pp. 138–55); Mead on the emergence of Māori art (63–75); Anne Salmond on treasures of the Māori world (109–37); and Agnes Sullivan on the roots of Māori culture (37–62).

Smith, Percy. Hawaiki: The Original Home of the Maori; With a Sketch of Polynesian History. Christchurch: Whitcombe and Tombs, 1904.

An example of early European interpretations of Māori traditions, this work attempts to discover the origins of Māori. It contains good examples of traditions.

Tau, Te Maire. “I-ngā-rā-o-mua.” Journal of New Zealand Studies 10 (2011): 45–62.

This article (in English) gives a useful overview of Māori perceptions of time and how this impacts on oral traditions and approaches to the past. Available online at https://ojs.victoria.ac.nz/jnzs/article/ view/153/938.

——. “Tirohia Atu Nei Ka Whetu Rangitia, Minding the Past,” Te Pouhere Kōrero 5 (2011): 7–31.

This article outlines Māori worldviews and constructions of the past with a focus on Māori primary sources.

86  Further Reading Wilson, John, ed. From the Beginning: The Archaeology of the Maori. Auckland: Penguin, 1987. See in particular Janet Davidson’s chapter “From Seeds to Flowering,” at pp. 43–48 and Nigel Prickett’s “Shelter and Security” (95–108). This collection of essays presents archaeological information related to Aotearoa New Zealand in an accessible manner for the general reader. Davidson’s chapter examines the cultural changes Māori underwent prior to the turn of the nineteenth century; Prickett’s provides useful insight into the houses and settlements of Māori.