Small issue with big implications

It seemed like a small thing. Open and shut. A petition was started to get the computerised voiceover system at the Christchurch central bus station to pronounce local te reo Ma¯ ori place names correctly. They were, the petitioner said, ‘‘very audibly incorrect’’.

Regional council Environment Canterbury agreed. Public transport senior manager Stewart Gibbon said the status quo was unacceptable. A simple phonic adjustment in the system would largely fix the problem. No more final calls for ‘‘Rang-ee-or-ah’’.

It seemed like a small thing. So small te reo Ma¯ ori advocate Anton Matthews commented in the story that it was probably something most people either didn’t notice, or care about.

But it was a small thing indicative of a much larger thing. There is probably no bigger, more emblematic example of

Pa¯ keha¯ ignorance of Ma¯ ori culture than everyday mispronunciation of te reo words.

Things have come a long way since the bad old days of Ma¯ ori culture being appropriated, or oppressed. With the establishment of the Ma¯ ori Language Commission in the 1980s, te reo has become an authentic part of broader, better New Zealand culture. It would be almost jarring to hear a Pa¯ keha¯ newsreader, weather presenter or politician butcher a Ma¯ ori phrase or place name in 2020. It is almost ingrained in public life.

Almost. Because while te reo has been officially embraced, many, mostly Pa¯ keha¯ , Kiwis resolutely cling to the old way. Not out of racism necessarily, but ignorance. An ignorance that sits just under the surface, barely perceptible, subtly reinforcing an outdated bias. It’s why the PA at a bus station in Christchurch can blare ‘‘Rang-ee-or-ah’’ every day for five years before someone finally says something. It’s how we’ve always pronounced it.

That is probably true, but it doesn’t make it OK. While te reo diphthongs or rolled ‘r’s might not sit easily on the tongue of a native English speaker, not all mispronunciation is a result of trying and failing to say it correctly. Some is out of ignorance and laziness. If this sounds like you, don’t worry. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But if you believe, as one unfortunate Dunedin woman did, so stridently in the old, incorrect way that you ring talkback radio to insist on your right to refer to the suburb of ‘Opoho’ as if it rhymed with Santa Claus’ laugh, then it’s probably time to think harder about what you’re doing.

Calling out overt racism is, if not easy, at least straightforward. Witness the resurgent Black Lives Matter movement after the death of African-American man George Floyd under the knee of a white police officer in the US. The message is clear, counterarguments easily dismissed. It’s smaller, subtler biases that are more insidious and harder to shake.

Long-overdue conversations are being had across New Zealand about statues or place names with ugly colonial connotations that for decades most of us gave little thought to. If those conversations extend into the entrenched mispronunciation of the Ma¯ ori language, it can only be a good thing.

For many Pa¯ keha¯ , who speak little or no te reo, hearing words on the news or over a PA at the bus station might be one of the few ways they actually interact with Ma¯ ori culture. The more Pa¯ keha¯ hear it, the more likely they are to say it properly, and if we all care enough to try to get right, then ignorance dies a little bit.

Calling out overt racism is, if not easy, at least straightforward. It’s smaller, subtler biases that are more insidious and harder to shake.