Cold Open

It’s just after 9 AM, on November 5th, 1881, on the outskirts of Parihaka, New Zealand.

22-year-old James Way Jr. fumbles with a cartridge as he tries to load his rifle. He isn’t a soldier—he’s a volunteer in the colonial militia, and alongside hundreds of other men, today will be his first taste of combat.

Over the last few decades, the indigenous Māori people of New Zealand have repeatedly clashed with British authorities in the country. And now tensions might be about to boil over once again.

James finally gets his rifle loaded, just as a bugle sounds, ordering the colonial men forward. They march toward their target—a Māori village that is home to the respected indigenous leader Te Whiti. But as James struggles to keep pace with the other men, he’s suddenly confronted with something none of them expected.

The village isn’t guarded by lines of Māori warriors. Instead, the militiamen come face-to-face with children—singing, dancing, and laughing. There are adults standing silently behind them, but as far as James can see, none of them are armed or ready for battle either.

James and the other men clear a path through the children by picking them up and moving them, or simply shoving them aside.

And as the soldiers then enter the village, the Māori adults suddenly move as one, sitting down on the ground. Only then does James spot the figure at their center: an old man with a long beard. Te Whiti himself.

James raises his rifle and takes aim at the chief. Then, he waits for his commanding officer’s next order. His hands are shaking; his resolve was rattled when confronted with the children, and now the passive, sitting adults. But he’s in no doubt—he will open fire if necessary.

Te Whiti is a wanted man for defying British colonial authorities in New Zealand. He is no warrior—he supports nonviolent resistance. But his pacifism won’t save his village, nor will it halt the suffering of his people, after the campaign for Māori rights is dealt a crushing blow during the forced eviction of Parihaka on November 5th, 1881.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is November 5th, 1881: The Invasion of Parihaka.

Act One: Your Land is Our Land

It’s February 5th, 1840, in Waitangi, New Zealand, 40 years before British troops enter Parihaka.

48-year-old Captain William Hobson steps into a large tent that’s been pitched outside a farmhouse. The farm often hosts British army officers and settlers. But today’s guests are different.

Sitting inside the tent, surrounded by British flags, dozens of Māori chiefs wear flax skirts, with their upper bodies bare. In contrast, Captain Hobson wears a heavy wool suit, and sweat trickles down his back in the summer heat. But Hobson tries his best to ignore his discomfort. He has an important job to do.

71 years ago, the explorer Captain James Cook became the first recorded European to step foot on the islands later named New Zealand. Since then, though, colonization of the country has been slow. While neighboring Australia has been used as a British penal colony, New Zealand has been almost completely ignored, attracting only a few pioneering settlers. But recently, the British government in London has grown uneasy. They’ve realized that if they don’t take full control of New Zealand now, one of their European rivals surely will.

So, Captain Hobson was dispatched from London with orders to secure a treaty with Māori. Since arriving in the country a week ago, he’s moved quickly to arrange a meeting with local tribal chiefs and draft a treaty with them. According to the terms of the document, the Māori will cede sovereignty of New Zealand and give up their land to the British Crown. The Māori have no concept of individual land ownership. To them, their home belongs to everyone—and that makes it impossible for them to give it away. That hasn’t deterred Captain Hobson from drawing up what he thinks will be a binding document.

With a flourish, he places the draft treaty on a table in the middle of the tent. Then, he begins to read from the document. Only the British contingent in the tent understands everything Hobson is saying; the Māori chiefs just wait patiently until he’s finished.

And once he’s read the treaty aloud, Captain Hobson nods to another Englishman standing beside him. Reverend Henry Williams has lived in New Zealand for the past 17 years, and he’s learned the Māori language. He’s been up all night translating the treaty, and now it’s his turn to explain what Hobson just said to the chiefs.

Captain Hobson carefully watches the faces of the Māori as Reverend Williams goes through the treaty point by point. At first, the chiefs look confused. But when Reverend Williams gets to the part about placing the Māori under the “protection” of the British Crown, their faces brighten. By the time Reverend Williams has finished, many of the chiefs look pleased. Captain Hobson smiles with relief. He feared that the Māori would reject his proposals, but it seems he was worried about nothing.

The negotiations last throughout the rest of the day, and when dusk falls, the Māori chiefs retire to a riverside camp, there fires burning through the night as they talk over the British proposal. The next morning, more than half of the chiefs return to the tent on the farm and declare they are willing to sign. Surrounded by British Army officers and settler families, the chiefs make their marks on the treaty one by one. As a beaming Captain Hobson repeats a few memorized words of thanks in Māori.

It’s a good start for the British, but the chiefs in the tent represent only a fraction of the Māori tribes across New Zealand. So over the next few weeks, Hobson travels to secure the agreement of more chiefs. Copies of the Treaty of Waitangi are steadily circulated in the more remote regions, and within three months, more than 500 chiefs have signed up. This gives Captain Hobson the confidence to report back to London that his mission has been a success. New Zealand now belongs to the British Crown. And it’s all been done without firing a shot.

But this annexation does not remain peaceful for long. When British surveyors arrive and start staking out parcels of land for European settlers, the Māori erupt in anger. British authorities try to calm the tensions, pointing out that the Treaty of Waitangi gives them the right to take the property. But the Māori disagree, arguing they only signed to share the land, not surrender it.

Soon, whatever goodwill there was between the two sides will unravel. Both the Māori and the British will harden their positions, convinced that they are in the right. Until eventually, the issue of who controls New Zealand will be settled not by words, but by blood.

Act Two: The Murderer and The Author of Peace

It’s November 27th, 1868, in Nukumaru, New Zealand, 28 years after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi.

On horseback, 35-year-old Lieutenant John Bryce canters to the edge of a farm owned by a colonial settler. He can see several members of his volunteer militia already lined up along a rickety fence there, keeping an eager lookout for any trouble.

Earlier today, Lieutenant Bryce received a panicked message from the farmer who works his land. He’d spotted a group of Māori trespassers and wanted the militia’s help to drive them off. Lieutenant Bryce quickly rallied his men and rode out.

It’s not the first time Bryce has had to deal with a situation like this. There have been often-violent clashes with the Māori for decades now, beginning only shortly after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi. Skirmishes broke out between European settlers and Māori tribes. And as the conflict escalated, the British government in London feared they had a full-scale rebellion on their hands, so they deployed thousands of troops to quell the unrest. Still, despite being outnumbered by as many as four to one, the Māori held their own, refusing to give up any more of their land. So as the fighting continued, many settlers joined volunteer militias, seeming to believe that the only way to make the Māori understand that they did not control New Zealand was through brute force.

Now, as Lieutenant Bryce and his men ride onto the settler’s farm, they prepare themselves for another confrontation. They soon find that a group of Māori have encroached onto the land—but it's not a war party, it’s a dozen children, all aged around ten, chasing the farmer’s pigs and geese through the fields. Still, the children are innocents and they shouldn’t be here. So, Lieutenant Bryce draws his saber and tells his men to move the youngsters on.

As Lieutenant Bryce kicks his horse forward, the children turn and run. But before they get too far, a shot cracks out, and one of the boys crumples to the ground. The militiamen whoop and set off in pursuit of the other children, with Bryce doing nothing to stop them.

When the dust settles, two Māori children are dead. But despite complaints from the indigenous community, Lieutenant Bryce is not punished for his actions by the British authorities, and instead, his involvement in the killings makes him a folk hero among the colonists.

Over the next few years, Bryce turns that notoriety into political power. He is elected to the New Zealand parliament in 1871, and then, in 1879, he is appointed Minister of Native Affairs. It's in that post that Bryce does all he can to limit the rights of the Māori people and promote the further expansion of colonial settlements. He dismantles the office that arbitrates disputes between the two sides. And he uses laws introduced under the Suppression of Rebellion Act to order the arrest of any Māori leader he can claim is stirring revolt.

But there’s one indigenous leader Bryce struggles to deal with. Unlike many other Māori chiefs, Te Whiti advocates for strictly nonviolent protest—and that makes it difficult for Bryce to justify detaining him under the Suppression of Rebellion Act.

Because rather than fight with the British, Te Whiti urges his fellow Māori to join him in a community called Parihaka. This thriving town soon becomes the largest Māori settlement in New Zealand. Farmers grow potatoes and melons in the fields. There is a bakery, a bank, and a police force. And as the town grows and grows, so too does Te Whiti’s influence in national politics.

As Minister of Native Affairs, John Bryce decides he needs to do something before Te Whiti becomes too powerful. So, he issues a ruling that says Parihaka is an illegal settlement on confiscated land, and that Te Whiti and his followers must move on.

Quietly, though, Bryce doesn’t want the Māori to leave peacefully. He wants a confrontation. So, he will pick up his saber again and take personal command of the forces sent to evict the town. The massacre at the farm in Nukumaru made his name. Now, he’ll make sure that the Māori learn a lesson that will be remembered for generations.

Act Three: Invasion and Eviction

It’s November 5th, 1881, in Parihaka, New Zealand, two weeks after the Māori were issued an ultimatum to leave the area.

As a British rider dismounts before him, 51-year-old Te Whiti sits calmly on the ground, his hands resting in his lap. Te Whiti is careful to keep his expression neutral because he recognizes the man at the head of the British troops. It’s John Bryce, the Minister of Native Affairs.

Te Whiti stays seated, his voice measured, as he invites Bryce to join him so he can discuss a peaceful resolution. But Bryce refuses. He declares that the Māori have had 14 days to talk. And now, the deadline has passed. By remaining here, they are all breaking the law.

With a sharp gesture, Bryce signals two of his soldiers forward to arrest Te Whiti. As he’s dragged away, Te Whiti calls out to his people, reminding them to stand firm and meet any violence with calm.

The Māori obey their leader, but their pacifism does not protect them from Bryce’s rage. Over the next few hours, the men of Parihaka are beaten. Its women are raped. And then its buildings are looted, torn down, and set ablaze. By the time the colonial troops are finished, little is left of Te Whiti’s once thriving community.

Te Whiti himself will be detained without trial for 16 months. When he’s eventually released, he will return to Parihaka and try to rebuild what Bryce’s men destroyed. But the damage cannot be undone, and over the next few decades, Māori rights will continue to be eroded by successive colonial governments.

Only much later in the 20th century will the wrongs suffered by the Māori people be recognized, and attempts finally be made to reverse years of injustice and suffering. In 1995, Queen Elizabeth II will offer a general apology to the Māori for the land stolen by the British during the Victorian era. But it will take another 22 years for a full and direct apology to be made for the violent invasion and forced eviction of the town of Parihaka that occurred on November 5th, 1881.

Outro

Next on History Daily. November 6th, 963 CE. Holy Roman Emperor Otto I convenes a convention of clergymen to overthrow the Pope.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Paul Nicholls.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.