Fred Too
Porirua City Council chose to glorify a man whose legacy is drenched in bloodshed, slavery and betrayal when it decided to name its impressive recreational hub the Te Rauparaha Arena.
Te Rauparaha, often romanticised as the ‘Napoleon of the South’ was a ruthless conqueror who spearheaded the Ngāti Toa tribe’s violent expansion across the North and South Islands during the Musket Wars of the 19th century. He led his people from the Kāwhia region to the Wellington area in what is known as the “Great Migration” or heke.
His campaigns were fuelled by a lust for power and greenstone and left trails of devastation. The Akaroa Massacre of 1829 was one of his most infamous acts: Te Rauparaha orchestrated a deceitful raid on Ngāi Tahu tribespeople at Akaroa Harbour. Using a European brig, the Elizabeth, he lured Chief Tamaiharanui and his family aboard under false pretences. After capture, the chief’s daughter was strangled by her own father to spare her from further suffering, before Te Rauparaha tortured and executed Tamaiharanui.
In the siege of Kaiapoi Pā in 1831, Te Rauparaha employed tactics like digging trenches up to the pā walls and setting fire to the palisades. Chiefs were captured and others were taken as prisoners. After victory, Ngāti Toa celebrated into the night, enjoying a cannibal feast. As a further insult, according to one account anyway, Ngāti Toa renamed the area Kaiapohia, which means ‘the piling of bodies to eat’.
A later crime was the Wairau Affray of 1843. Though later exonerated by colonial authorities, Te Rauparaha and his nephew Te Rangihaeata slaughtered 22 Europeans, including unarmed captives, after disputes over fraudulent land sales. This event, sparked by settler encroachment, demonstrated his willingness to employ extreme violence to protect his interests.
Survivors of Te Rauparaha’s raids were often made slaves. The practice of slavery was a means to assert control, generate wealth and expand influence. Enslaved individuals were often used for labour or as leverage in negotiations. This brutal practice was central to Te Rauparaha’s strategy of subjugating rival tribes.
In an age where statues of colonial figures are toppled for far lesser crimes, why does Te Rauparaha receive a free pass? His ‘cultural contributions’, such as composing the haka Ka Mate, do not absolve him of the atrocities he committed. Celebrating him whitewashes history and insults the descendants of his victims, including Ngāi Tahu, who still grapple with the trauma of his raids.
Porirua’s leaders must ask themselves if their community really wants to immortalise a man who traded in human lives?
