Letting it go but not forgetting, 10 years on

Tomorrow marks 10 years since armed police descended on the small Bay of Plenty township of Ruatoki, looking for ‘ terrorists’. The raids shocked New Zealand but in the end, just four individuals were convicted of firearms charges. Today, the ‘ Urewera 4’

Urewera forest, under the auspices of the Terrorism Suppression Act.

No terror charges were ever laid in Operation Eight; criminal charges were later dropped after the Supreme Court ruled the video surveillance evidence was unlawful. The Urewera 17 shrunk to the Urewera 4.

Bugged conversations played at trial talked about “war” and “revolution”, the existence of semi- automatic weapons, video footage of militarystyle exercises at the camps.

The Crown argued this was proof of training for guerrilla warfare; the defence said it was a battle for hearts and minds in the context of Tuhoe's struggle for independence.

So what was really going on in the bush? The jury could not decide on the most serious charge: that the Urewera 4 were an organised criminal group, preparing to carry out violence including murder, arson and sabotage.

But the jury did convict Iti — as well as Rangi Kemara, Urs Signer and Emily Bailey — on firearms charges.

Iti and Kemara were jailed for 2 ½ years with the trial judge saying the evidence showed a private militia being established.

“A crime committed in pursuit of a noble ideal is as much a crime as a criminal act done for a base motive,” said Justice Rodney Hansen. “The end does not justify the means.”

However, the High Court judge gave Iti credit for his “altruistic motives” and success in progressing the Tuhoe negotiations.

Most importantly, Justice Hansen said there was no evidence of imminent plans for violence.

“One of the enduring mysteries of this case . . . is that you saw it as necessary to have a Plan B at all . . . there is nothing to show any real likelihood that Plan B would be implemented.”

Walking out of Waikeria prison on parole nine months later, Iti took a deep breath — and exhaled. “It pissed me off. But I had to let it go.”

To his way of thinking, the Urewera camps were another step in his indigenous activism, which dated back to the 1960s.

There was the Vietnam War, the Land March to Parliament, Bastion Point, the Springbok Tour and anti- nuclear protests.

Later, his distinctive profile became the face of Ngai Tuhoe's protest over Waitangi Treaty claims.

Spitting, shooting the national flag and baring his buttocks made headlines — and made Pakeha New Zealand uncomfortable.

Sometimes, Iti's actions made his own Tuhoe people cringe.

But these were calculated acts of protest to attract attention, says Iti, which were widely misunderstood at the time.

“It is theatre. It is a performance,” says Iti. “It is a reminder to the Crown that Tuhoe is not going away.”

Kanohi ki te kanohi, or speaking eye- to- eye — on the same level — is how Iti expresses this concept in an online speech.

To engage with authority on the same level, Iti says in the TedTalk presentation, his decades of activism taught him to constantly keep the pressure on authority.

This is to test their mana and remind those in authority of the need for proper conversation, as equals.

The training camps, says Iti, were the same as his previous theatrical stunts.

“We needed to radicalise our thinking,” he says, of a time when negotiations with the Labour Government had stalled. “We needed to step it up. And the Government needed to take us seriously. I knew they were monitoring me.”

Though Tuhoe never raised the heavy- handed tactics of the police during Treaty negotiations, Iti believes the events of October 15, 2007 galvanised the iwi.

For the innocents caught up in the raids, the raids were history repeating in the Urewera: scorched earth warfare, confiscated lands, the killing of innocent Tuhoe, the armed police invasion to arrest prophet Rua Kenana.

“The raid helped elevate what Tuhoe was talking about,” says Iti. “We'd had 170 years of this.”

Police Commissioner Mike Bush later personally apologised to those caught up in the “terror raids” including Iti's partner, as well as the other affected families in Ruatoki.

The police apology — on the back of a critical IPCA report — was another “let it go” moment for Iti and Tuhoe. Soon after, Chris Finlayson delivered the Crown apology and $ 170 million settlement.

Iti has been publicly credited by Tamati Kruger, lead negotiator for Tuhoe, as being instrumental to the process. So does Iti feel he's achieved his goal?

“I see that as a huge achievement for Tuhoe. We can let it go and move forward,” says Iti.

“We've finally got to the stage of building our mana motuhake. And I'm really excited by that.”

After so many years of protest, seeking an equal conversation with the Crown, kanohi ki te kanohi, is it now time for the theatrical character of Tame Iti to retire?

He's 65 now, a kaumatua, and would like to spend more time painting his distinctive artwork.

A new generation of Tuhoe must build on the foundations he helped create.

“The power is here. We need our people to believe that. We need them to radicalise their thinking, come back here and create something,” says Iti.

“That means someone needs to be ticking boxes,” he says. “My brain is still sharp, I can be an ambassador for Tuhoe. But I’m not a tick- box guy.”

Tame Iti