Are readers ready for a bicultural media?
Stuff’s apology to Ma¯ ori for its long history of monocultural reporting, Our Truth, Ta¯ Ma¯ tou Pono, seems a world-first. Brave, surprising, unnecessary, overdue . . . whatever today’s responses are, the level of commitment to the new strategy will be measured by the effectiveness of the mahi that comes afterwards, rather than its current accolades or insults.
What’s important about the New Zealand media giant’s apology is that it seems thicker than thin words. The videos, interviews, and commitments that give the project substance are filled with reallife, practical examples of what is wrong and how to change it.
Like Nanaia Mahuta’s video claiming that coverage of the Waikato Treaty settlement by the
(a Stuff newspaper) was unbalanced and didn’t bother to feature stories of the people whose hurt, mamae, was central to the settlement.
Or Joel Maxwell, Ma¯ ori Stuff journalist, listing his complaints against journalism as ‘‘contempt for te reo Ma¯ ori, the seizing of the easy angles that feed prejudice. The willingness to throw Ma¯ ori under the bus for readership, subscriptions – more lately, to juice up hits’’.
These and many other insights directly from those who are being apologised to – all people of Ma¯ ori descent – point to a better way forward, where ‘‘balance, fairness and accuracy from a bicultural perspective’’ will guide the way. Multiperspective storytelling. Better journalism.
So, if Stuff delivers on its promise to widen its reporting lens, are we, its readers, prepared to change too? I ask this question as a reader myself. I’m not a Stuff staffer, I’m a columnist. If the platform provides us with a broader, bicultural view that helps round out the perspectives we take in, will we make the time and effort to engage with it, however uncomfortable it may be?
Seeing the world through a different set of eyes isn’t easy. It takes longer, is more complicated, has layers that take effort to explore.
There aren’t always headlines and soundbites that can quickly sum up the cultural lenses that shape how we tell stories and share information.
My work over many years across different cultures has taught me that understanding the deeper context of new cultural norms takes years to develop and can rarely be watered down to simple concepts and pithy phrases. It’s been tempting for me, for example, to summarise the behaviour of New Zealand’s Filipino workforce as ‘‘obedient,’’ ‘‘friendly’’ and ‘‘eager to work’’.
But Filipinos’ work behaviours are much more complex.
They stem from an ancient, violent history of colonialism and feudalism which forged difficult
Seeing the world through a different set of eyes isn’t easy. It takes longer, is more complicated, has layers that take effort to explore.
relationships between landowners, colonial powers, churches and local peoples.
Reciprocal obligations sprang from uneasy dynamics. Deeply ingrained in the Filipino psyche are strong ideas about service, faith, and respect for foreign powers which intermingle with family duties in ways that New Zealand employers find hard to understand. When new Filipino staff ask for support outside the arrangements of a Western employment relationship, businesses here are surprised. But to Filipinos, employers that offer accommodation, cash gifts, or koha for family members are merely fulfilling their role as caretaker, based on concepts of symbiotic relationships from centuries-old practices.
Even as I try to squeeze my explanation of one aspect of Philippines’ culture into 800 words here, I find it frustrating that I am collapsing important nuances of this world view into a single paragraph. Like New Zealand’s relationship with, say, beer, or the British Queen, it’s complicated. It takes longer than a minute to begin to understand.
But te ao Ma¯ ori is not new to most Kiwis, as migrant cultures can be. Most non-Ma¯ ori in New Zealand have basic understandings of concepts such as kaitiakitanga, wha¯ nau, and manaakitanga. Ma¯ ori and non-Ma¯ ori alike are increasingly embracing te reo. Government, schools, and businesses continue to grow their use of tikanga Ma¯ ori.
So, if media are to start including relevant complexities of te ao Ma¯ ori in their narratives, balancing the imbalances of the past, and using their considerable power to shape the public’s views in ways that honour its many layers, then we, as consumers of that media, must be open to changing our habits too.
We need to commit to reading longer articles, clicking on visual content that doesn’t immediately catch our eye, and pushing ourselves beyond the headline to read deeper into stories so that we understand behaviours that stem from a world view that may be less familiar. We need to be comfortable with mihi, make space for te reo translations. We need to remove racism from our letters to the editors – a reason, it seems, why some Ma¯ ori no longer read newspapers. Our curiosity about te ao Ma¯ ori must grow. If media tell a great, multi-perspective story or report on a thorny issue with better balance, we should let them know.
Stuff has promised to work towards a bicultural media for a better world. Are you ready to consume it?