Facing The Future



The often stated projection that within the next two decades 40% of those living in New Zealand will be of Maori or Pacific descent has set alarm bells ringing within government institutions. Understandable, given the socio-economic statistics in health, education and general living standards. But how likely is that projection? What will a typical Maori or Pacific person in New Zealand be like in 15- 20 years time? INNES LOGAN investigates

If something is said often enough without being challenged, then it’s true … even if it’s not. More than two decades in the media has brought a grudging realisation of its acceptance, as well as other well-worn PR clichés like ‘Perception becomes reality’.

So when government ministers and representatives of various government agencies state that Maori and Pacific people will make up a significantly larger proportion of the country’s population within 20, 30 or 40 years, we generally accept it.

Certainly Hekia Parata, Minister of Ethnic Affairs, does.

“Those populations have a very strong youth profile compared to the mainstream,” she says. “That’s why there is so much emphasis on the education and development of our young people. The mainstream, and by that I mean us baby boomers, are getting older, which will mean greater demand for health care, like hips that need replacing, new hearing aids, all the things we expect to be provided as a first world nation. But in order to meet those needs we need a workforce that is well educated, highly skilled and able to lift our productivity levels to help us afford all the things we want and expect.”



Race Relations Commissioner Joris de Bres agrees.

“The proportion of the population that is Maori and Pacific will certainly be higher in 2025 and, even more significantly, will be younger and in the future therefore be an even higher proportion of the workforce,” he says.

“This makes the need to achieve greater equality in social and economic outcomes even more urgent, including education and training.”

According to the 2006 Census, Maori made up 24% and Pacific 12% of the total population aged 17 and under, yet Maori made only 5% and Pacific 2% aged 65 and over. By 2026 of the total population aged 17 and under, Maori are expected to increase to 27% and Pacific 17%. That’s 44%, giving weight to the well-trodden line.

But one significant factor is ignored when looking at the ethnic make-up of census figures during the past two decades, a factor that gives weight to the saying, “There are three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics.”

First came the census option that you could choose more than one ethnic category, reflecting the increasing mixed ethnicities of New Zealanders. It was manageable initially, as the vast majority tended to stick to one. But with the term ‘New Zealander’ now an option as part of the ‘European or Other’ category, more are choosing to identify themselves with that group, particularly the young. In 2008, one of five children aged under 15 was reported as belonging to two or more ethnic groups. Among those aged 65 and over it was one in 33.



So, how does that confuse things? Well, one of the favourite tools statisticians use to make a point is to make a pie graph. You divide the pie graph into the different groups and state their percentages, which will all add up to 100 … except it doesn’t with census ethnic statistics.

The 2006 Census states that despite the rise of Maori (15%) and Pacific (7%) populations due to higher birthrates, and Asian (10%) due to migration, more than three-quarters (77%) were still classified as European/New Zealander. Combined, that’s 109%. And you can’t fudge a pie-chart by having categories cross over each other because those who choose multi-ethnicities are from various combinations.

Even by 2026, when Maori, Pacific and Asian combined are projected to reach 42% of New Zealand’s total population, 70% will still have chosen European/New Zealander as their category.

That totals 112% and is sure to rise further next time round, making ethnic percentages become as accurate and relevant as an athlete who says he or she is “going out there to give 150%.” So, where does the combined figure of 40% Maori and Pacific come from, especially when by 2026 they’re only projected to reach 32%?

Some say it relates to the year 2050, but with dramatic climate change, predicted food shortages for a growing world population and a global financial crisis, who can make predictions four decades away with any confidence?



In summarising its National Ethnic Projections, Statistics New Zealand states: “The projections indicate that the ethnic mosaic of New Zealand’s population is changing with the Maori, Asian and Pacific populations making up a growing proportion of the overall population. However, the ethnic projections are more uncertain than the total population because of the uncertain effect of changing ethnic identification and intermarriage, in addition to the uncertainty of future fertility, mortality and migration patterns.”
 
What is certain is that when it comes to mixed ethnicities, Maori and Pacific are at the forefront It was Professor Ranganui Walker who said this country’s racial problems “would be solved in the bedrooms.” Don Brash, when he was head of the opposition National Party questioned in 2006 if any full-bloodied Maori actually existed. While the reaction and condemnation was swift, there weren’t exactly hoards of full bloodied Maori stepping forward to prove him wrong.



Fellow Polynesians from other parts of the Pacific were just as keen to ‘engage’ with Europeans from the time of first contact almost 250 years ago. The majority of Pacific babies born today are of mixed descent, so with New Zealand’s Pacific population living in some of the country’s most culturally diverse areas (such as south and west Auckland) they’ll be, in the words of Blue Mink’s 1970s hit part of a great big melting pot, turning out coffee coloured people by the score.

Pacific’s Place

As a Minister at the University of Auckland’s Maclaurin Chapel, Reverend Uesifili Unasa sees the growing presence of Pacific students at tertiary level and their growing success in graduating.

He himself was part of that in the 1980s, graduating from Auckland (BA, MA in History,Political Studies) and then the University of Otago (Bachelor of Divinity). Unasa also studied at Methodist Theological Colleges in Samoa, Dunedin and Auckland and served in Methodist parishes as far north as Dargaville in Northland to Mosgiel and St Kilda, Dunedin in the South Island.



Unasa is also chairman of the new Auckland Council’s Pacific Peoples Advisory Panel. Unasa attributes his position to his strong, traditional Samoan upbringing (he’s from Matafaa and Faleseela, Lefega (father’s side) and Gagaifo, Lefaga and Moataa (mother), with his family arriving in Auckland, settling in Kelston, west Auckland in the mid-1970s.

“The tradition gave me a strong base with which to interact confidently with the diversity around me,” he says.

“Being Samoan helps, too. There’s a strong sense of belonging to the culture, which creates a belief that Samoans can conquer anything. They don’t always do so (he laughs), but they’ll give it a go.”

While it gave him strength, it wasn’t without its challenges.

“Of course, there were struggles for me, with strong traditional values at home compared to the more diverse environment around us in our neighbourhood in Kelston. If you look back to the 1970s, many Samoan communities were very insular. Sports clubs or other mainstream community groups were alien to us. Even school was seen as little more than a place to gain what was needed to bring back to the family. Any demands from school beyond nine-to three weren’t appreciated at home. The church and its members were our family’s community.



“It wasn’t until the 1980s that I began to sense that it was OK to be Pacific in mainstream. We began to play our games of cricket and volleyball in the local parks, we joined local sports clubs.”

For a man of the cloth who gained strength from his upbringing, it seems ironic that he sees traditional churches as less relevant in today’s New Zealand.

“I’m not really concerned about our people moving from traditional churches because its roles as community building, cultural hub and spiritual nurturing centre are now not exclusive,” he says.

“I think traditional Pacific churches have had their day. They’ve become inward looking, ill informed and increasingly theologically conservative. I’m not sure if any sensible and enlightened Pacific person can continue to see this as a worthwhile place to spend a Sunday morning.”



Unasa disagrees with those who claim Pacific people have lost their way because of their loss of traditional values and practices. As the eldest of three siblings, his thoughts grapple with his own position, as he was the one bombarded with his parents’ dreams and expectations.

“The traditional Samoan setting is very hierarchal. There can only be one head of the family, one who has the matai title, the authority and often the family home. That’s the first born, or first son, regardless of whether they have those necessary leadership traits. The younger siblings are often no more than supporting acts and they feel neglected,” he says.

“One success in the family was traditionally seen as good enough. That’s why there are varying degrees of success amongst siblings in many Pacific families. In a westernised, more individualised context, however, one success doesn’t cut it.”

More of the graduates he sees are of mixed descent, comfortable within a mainstream environment without feeling burdened by traditional family expectations.

And while there are concerns about where Pacific people will be in 15-20 years time, those increasing leaders of tomorrow emerging from universities such as Auckland give him cause for optimism. As he stresses pride at being Samoan, he says the term Pacific is the only one that can be used in staking our place in New Zealand’s ever-evolving identity.



“The New Zealand Pacific identity is unique and it’s positive, but it also means so many different things to so many people. For years we’ve had perceived gatekeepers who believed they defined what it means to be Pacific. That’s irrelevant today.

 “The challenge here, though, is that we must look to make our mark in mainstream, to be making a positive contribution not just within our Pacific communities, but wider. In saying that, I recognise it’s my responsibility to share with them what I believe is important in my Samoan heritage – not the church or the school. I took my boys to Samoa last year. What it means to them is ultimately up to them.

“One of the exciting things about being Pacific in New Zealand, and why many of mixed heritage gravitate towards it, is because it’s optimistic. There’s a future that’s yet to be defined, and they feel they can play a key part in that.”

Harnessing our uniqueness

Hekia Parata says Maori and Pacific will play an increasing part in forging New Zealand’s identity and, like Unasa, believes they will contribute positively in an economic sense, as well. As Minister of Ethnic Affairs, her department now offers an Excellence Award which goes to businesses that incorporate best ethnic practices into the workplace.

“We can’t just have the rhetoric about how great New Zealand is being a multicultural society. We have to turn that rhetoric into the practice of thinking how it can it give us an edge as a country on the world stage.”

Growing up on the east coast, Parata is still amazed at how Maori communities, consisting of volunteers from a comparatively poor socioeconomic background, can successfully run a hui on a marae at short notice with little idea of how many people will turn up. Yet, she adds, there’s always enough food and none of it goes to waste.

“These are cultural techniques and management principles that could and should be harnessed into the workplace. I’ve seen it myself with the way some Pacific Island groups streamline their practices on the factory floor,” she says.
 
“New Zealand is not just one homogenous brand. It’s not just Maori and Pakeha, either. We have to harness our distinct cultural identities because within that lies this country’s innovation.”  

In writing on Diaspora as part of her Pacific Studies at Wellington’s University of Victoria, Wellingtonbased SPASIFIK contributor and former intern DOMINIKA WHITE, of Fijian and Scottish descent, looks at why so many of us retain connections to our Pacific cultures

Depending on where I’m standing in the world I could call myself a Kiwi, Fijian, Scot, or combination of any of the three. I can never get away with saying just one of these because I do not look like the typical Scottish or Fijian that I get from my parents.

On top of this I carry a 23-year kiwi accent. When questioned about my ethnicity, the clearest way I can represent myself is by replying: “I’m Fijian and Scottish, but I grew up in New Zealand”

Having multiple identities is generally seen as the norm in New Zealand, as reflected in our national census where it is acceptable to tick two or more boxes under the category of ethnicity. However, there’s contentiousness over the issue of identity with children of miscegenation (intermarriage between races). Some argue that being of mixed heritage invalidates being part of a particular identity. Don Brash, the then leader of the National Party, argued this aspect in 2006 when he recommended that voters for Maori seats should be rationalised for being Maori through a blood quantum level. Others argue that Maori do not exist at all because there are none who are full-blooded.

Exclusion from one’s history is even done by one’s own family or the people from their country of origin, claiming that being born with parents of different ethnicities means they are inauthentic or their culture has been ‘watered-down’. Some believe losing knowledge such as language or not participating in certain customs detract their right to identify with that ethnicity. Not knowing the Fijian language and growing up in New Zealand rather than a village in Nausori was a sign that I wasn’t a ‘real’ Fijian.I generally accepted that.

After doing Pacific Studies at Victoria University, however, I realised there is no definition of being ‘real’. For the most part, authenticity is defined by outsiders. Colonial historians based ‘authentic’ notions of culture on traditions that seemed fixed at that time of engagement, when it was actually evolving and changing.

Part of the study of identity and culture revolves around diaspora, the idea that people retain a connection to their homeland, even though they are displaced from it. Displacement generally means moving away from their homeland, but it also applies to denying indigenous people access to their culture or way of life.

So, why do people retain that connection, even though they have been denied it or are comfortable in their new permanent country? Some remain attached because they carry the appearance of that country of origin. My Papua New Guinean friend holds no emotional attachment to her ethnicity, but remains connected because she ‘looks’ Papua New Guinean. When people ask what ethnicity she is or where she is from, they’re asking because of her appearance, so she replies with her country of origin, even though it’s quite foreign to her.

Sometimes it’s just human nature to hold on to what is familiar. Retaining a connection enables many to connect to a subculture they are familiar with, such as Tongan-New Zealander, while still belonging to the overall national identity. For those parents’ or grandparents’ generation who were displaced or migrated here, being viewed as different was seen as a hindrance. Many parents, like my own, gave their children European names and didn’t believe passing down their native language would be any help to their children’s future.

Consequently, many of this generation have grown up feeling empty, ostracised in society for being different and even by their own families for being ‘inauthentic’. This has been explored in art and literary works, like Sons by Victor Roger and Growing-up Half-Caste by Paul Meredith. As a result, children of miscegenation have begun to actively seek to identify with their culture and feel more comfortable identifying with their many different ethnic backgrounds. By retaining or reclaiming their multiple ethnicities, they are able to reinvigorate aspects of their heritage that was denied or inaccessible to them, thereby rationalising and affirming their place in the world.