Imagine you and your extended family lived in a big house. One day, a group of strangers knocks on the door and asks if they can move in. You welcome them. But more and more keep coming. So you and the visitors sort out a tenancy agreement, just to be on the safe side.
As more of their mates pile in, your family is forced into the basement.
By now, the visitors are in the majority. They paint, plumb, rewire and transform the house without checking with you. You wave the agreement in their faces. After all, no matter how much a tenant pimps the property, the landlord is still the owner. But the newbies talk about how, thanks to them, the house is so much nicer. More modern even. “Look at all the bells and whistles,” they say. And they’ve got new rules, too. They suggest that if you want to challenge the alterations, “you could vote — just like anyone else in the house. That’s democracy. After all, we’re all one people. All equal.”
Monday, May 30, 2016
The Big House - A parable of Colonisation
I posted earlier about the latent racism in New Zealand, especially (but not exclusively) against the Maori. Moana Maniapoto says the same kind of thing but, uh, better. Well she has the dubious advantage of being on the receiving end, rather than a spectator like muggins. Be sure to read the whole article.
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