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New Zealand Yearbook of New Zealand Jurisprudence |
Last Updated: 25 April 2015
TE MāTāPUNENGA AS A
COMPENDIUM OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS
DR RICHARD A BENTON
Te Mātāpunenga is a collection of annotated references to
the concepts and institutions of Māori customary law. For convenience, each
reference
has been placed under one of 122 separate headings, referred to in the
work as Titles; many entries, of course, could logically appear
under any of
several alternative Titles, and they are cross-referenced accordingly. The
Titles are essentially a list of key words,
125 in all (three have dual
referents: tuakana/teina, pepeha/ whakataukī, and
tāhae/whānako). Four of the words are early adoptions from
other languages, three from English (kōti, kāwanatanga,
kawenata) and one (ture) from Hebrew via Tahitian; another seven
are derivatives or elaborations of base terms which themselves constitute the
head word
for a discrete Title. This leaves a net total of 114 key terms of
local or Polynesian origin. Each Title is prefaced by a note on
the etymology of
the word and its range of meanings in modern Māori, and, in many cases, a
guide to entries in Te Mātāpunenga as a whole which relate to
the use or implications of the term concerned. In this preliminary material
other terms related to the
topic under discussion are also mentioned explicitly:
there are about another hundred of these, but they are distributed very unevenly
(more than 30 are associated with slavery and servitude, for example), and will
not be considered further in this discussion.
This paper will look briefly at the origins of the 114 local and inherited
Polynesian terms used in the Titles, and what they tell
us about the development
of ideas pertaining to customary laws and institutions in Aotearoa New
Zealand.
i. FROM TAIWAN TO MADAGASCAR AND RAPANUI
The Polynesian settlement of this part of the Pacific marked humanity’s
conquest of the last habitable frontier: once the first
sustainable settlements
had been established, the only truly unexplored territories would be those where
long-term survival for human
beings isolated from the rest of the world would be
impossible. Polynesian languages form the south-eastern branch of the
Austronesian
language family, a group of about 1300 contemporary languages
spoken natively in an area from Madagascar in the west to Rapanui (Easter
Island) in the east. Austronesian speakers left the Asian mainland, presumably
from somewhere in what is now southern China, about
6,000
years ago, and established themselves on the island now known as Taiwan. From
there, groups of them pushed south into the Philippines,
and, over the ensuing
centuries, continued southwest to Borneo, Sumatra, Java, the Malay peninsula and
beyond; south through the
Celebes; and southeast to the Bismarck Archipelago and
northern coastal areas of the island of New Guinea. This latter wave of migrant
Austronesian speakers seem to have paused long enough in their new homeland
(which had already been settled by completely different
peoples some twenty to
thirty thousand years earlier) to develop a distinctive language and culture,
now labelled “Oceanic”.
Over ensuing generations this was carried
progressively further into the Pacific, with modifications at each stage of the
journey,
eventually reaching an area traditionally called Pulotu, somewhere in
the Fiji group.
From there it was carried to Polynesia, where its speakers were the first
human settlers. They arrived in Tonga (probably first) and
Samoa during the
first millennium BC, and were well-established as a separate linguistic group
(“Proto-Polynesian”) about
2,500 years ago. After a few hundred
years, as populations grew and contact became more sporadic, linguistic
differences became more
marked, and a new language, labelled by linguists
“Proto- Nuclear-Polynesian”, emerged, centred on Samoa. Speakers of
this language eventually sailed further into the Pacific, colonising first the
Society, Tuamotu and Marquesan islands (around AD
400), and within the next six
to eight centuries pushing east to Rapanui, north to Hawaii, and (probably
lastly) settling Aotearoa.
Contact with Rapanui seems to have been lost soon
after it was settled, and although occasional two-way voyages to Aotearoa, with
the Kermadecs as a stopover point, may have been made for a while, direct
contact between this part of the world and the rest of
eastern Polynesia also
seems to have been soon lost. Hawaii became similarly isolated by about AD
1200.
The relationship between languages is discovered, in large part, by carefully
studying their vocabulary and comparing this with the
vocabularies of other
languages, neighbouring and more distant. Languages are grouped together on the
basis of the innovations which
they share, after known adoptions from other
languages (whether related or not) are discounted. Often a “basic
vocabulary”
list is used in order to discover and index immediate
relationships, but the entire vocabulary of a language is available for
providing
evidence of what may have been inherited from earlier stages. This
process involves noting similarities and differences in sound
as well as meaning
between words thought to be related, and building up ordered pathways which
account for changes in form between
different stages of a language. It will
often end up that the likely form of an earlier stage is reflected in different
ways among
cognate forms in later stages (those in which the particular earlier
form is reflected). For example, the Proto-Malayo-Polynesian
word for
“sky”, reconstructed
as *langit, is a word which survives apparently unchanged in Philippine languages like Ilocano. Polynesian languages have “lost” the final consonant in inherited words, leaving *langi as the Proto-Polynesian reconstruction. Within Polynesia, Proto-Polynesian *l is retained in that form in Hawaiian, while *ng becomes *n, giving us lani; in Māori Proto-Polynesian *l becomes “r”, and
*ng is retained as a velar nasal (except by Tūhoe and Ngāi Tahu
speakers), so we have rangi as the reflex of *langit and cognate
of lani. It can get much more complicated than that, but in all cases a
clear rule-governed progression must be demonstrated before we can
say with
reasonable assurance that words are cognate with those in another language or
reflexes of a parent language.1
The actual meaning of the ancestral word is determined by one or both of two
complementary methods: taking the current meanings of
reflexes in different
branches of the language group in question and assuming that those which are
very similar or identical reflect
the original meaning of the term (the
“lexical method”), or looking at all the known meanings, working out
logically
what they have in common and why they might be different, and
determining the probable original meaning on the basis of this analysis
(the
“semantic method”). Often either approach will yield a similar
result, and in any case it must be remembered that
in the absence of direct
evidence from another source (which we do not have in regard to the earlier
stages of Polynesian and most
other Austronesian languages) our labels are at
best well-informed guesses. We are also very dependent on the quality of the
information
available to us. Many linguistic reconstructions are made on the
basis of dictionaries, some of which are excellent sources of information
with
wide-ranging examples of the uses and nuances of various words, and others of
which are highly selective
1 A good, concise explanation of the methods used by historical and comparative linguists to reconstruct previous stages of a language and determine the relationships among languages is given in the Introduction to Malcolm Ross et al. The Lexicon of Proto Oceanic: 1. Material Culture (Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University, Canberra, 1998), pp. 1-16. For discussions of the “semantic” and “lexical” methods, see Robert A Blust “Lexical reconstruction and semantic reconstruction: the case of Austronesian
‘house’ words”, 4 Diachronica 1-2 (1987) at 31-72,
Isidore Dyen and David F Aberle Lexical Reconstruction: The Case of the
Athapaskan Kinship System (Cambridge University Press, London, New York,
1974), and R David Paul Zorc “Austronesian culture history through
reconstructed
vocabulary (an overview)” in AK Pawley and MD Ross (eds)
Austronesian Terminologies: Continuity and Change (Department of
Linguistics, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National
University, Canberra, 1994) pp. 541-594.
Many of the etymologies discussed in
this paper are drawn from material presented in the POLLEX computer database
compiled by Bruce
Biggs and Ross Clark (Department of Applied Language Studies
and Linguistics, University of Auckland, ongoing) and Robert A Blust’s
Austronesian Comparative Dictionary (Computer File, Department of Linguistics,
University of Hawaii, 1995).
and minimally informative word lists. Even the most parsimonious word lists
will help us establish relationships, but they may obscure
deeper links between
ideas which would only be revealed by a much more detailed description.
ii. AOTEAROA: A LABORATORY FOR THE
STUDY OF LEXICAL INNOVATION AND CHANGE
The late Professor Bruce Biggs observed that “New Zealand would seem to
provide a laboratory for the study of lexical innovation
and change. It was
settled a thousand years ago ..., and, for eight hundred years, was, as far as
we know, not in contact with any
other language”.2 In that
article he looked at two sets of vocabulary: “that of canoe culture (which
persisted in New Zealand), and coconut culture
(which was lost)”. He
points out three ways of dealing with this: coining new words, adapting existing
words, and taking words
from other languages. The last was not an option in New
Zealand, and of the remaining options, adaptation was favoured over invention.
(Many of the apparent coinages may well be adaptations, too: for example,
whakataukī [“proverb”], a local invention, may be a
rearrangement of inherited components.) In the new environment language will
be
adapted to reflect changes, and to fill gaps: a richer physical or cultural
environment will motivate people to create new words
and expressions; one less
rich than they had previously known will usually lead to the loss of vocabulary
referring to objects and
ideas no longer relevant, especially in cases like New
Zealand before the 18th century, where there was no writing and no interaction
with people from distant places to keep memories of some phenomena alive. Thus,
12 of the 13 terms associated with canoe culture
present in East Polynesia were
retained in Māori, with similar or new meanings, but only half the coconut
terms, all of which
were given altered meanings (for example, niu,
derived from the ancient word for a coconut tree, came to mean a slender wand
used in certain ceremonies, and, much later, was applied
to a pole also erected
for ceremonial purposes).
The patterns described by Professor Biggs are reflected also in the terms
selected as Titles for Te Mātāpunenga. The rows in the table
below cover eight stages in the progression from Taiwan to Aotearoa.3
The earliest, Proto-
2 Bruce Biggs “New words for a new world”, in AK Pawley and MD Ross (eds) Austronesian Terminologies: Continuity and Change (Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University, Canberra, 1994), 21 at 21.
3 An excellent overview of the Austronesian expansion from Taiwan into
South-east Asia and the Pacific will be found in Peter
Bellwood, James J Fox and
Darrell Tryon (eds) The Austronesians: Historical and Cultural Perspectives
(The Australian National University, Canberra, 1995); see especially Chapter
2 by Darrell Tryon. The expansion into and within Polynesia
is outlined in
Patrick Vinton Kirch and Roger C. Green Hawaiki, Ancestral Polynesia
(Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2001) at 77-81.
Austronesian, covers the initial foray from Taiwan to the Philippines. Each
of these words has come down in some recognisable form
to contemporary languages
in several major branches of the family, including at least one of the
aboriginal languages of Taiwan.
The second stage is Proto-Malayo-Polynesian.
These words seem to have been invented when those Austronesian speakers who
settled
in the Philippines lost touch with those who stayed in Taiwan; they are
widely dispersed throughout the Austronesian family, but
they are not reflected
in any known Taiwanese language. The next set combines those from the time
Malayo-Polynesian speakers heading
south-east became separated from those in the
Philippines and also separated from the others heading south and west through
what
is now Western Indonesia and Malaysia. This is when the
“Proto-Oceanic” language developed from an earlier Eastern
Malayo-Polynesian
idiom. The fourth set comprises the words which seem to have
appeared first as the Oceanic Austronesian speakers headed through the
island
chains of the Southern Solomons and Vanuatu towards Fiji. We next have a group
of words labelled “Proto-Polynesian”.
These have cognates in several
major branches of the Polynesian family, including the subgroup of which Tongan
and Niuean are the
most prominent members. The original forms of these words can
be assumed to have been present in the language spoken when the Polynesians
first settled the islands that now constitute Tonga and Samoa. Later, a distinct
language, Proto-Nuclear-Polynesian, developed in
and around Samoa. Speakers of
this language settled Eastern Polynesia, again developing their own distinctive
language and eventually
spreading out in various directions from the
Tahiti-Tuamotu-Marquesas heartland, probably colonising Rapanui before the
linguistic
split was complete, and then settling Hawaii, the Cook Islands and
Aotearoa. In time, all of these settlements developed their own
distinctive
idioms, and the final row indicates the number of words which were developed or
modified here. One of the last mentioned
(not included in the Table) is the word
Mātāpunenga itself. It is drawn from a coinage by Te Taura
Whiri i te Reo (the Māori Language Commission), combining two elements not
found
elsewhere: mātā “filled, packed with” and
punenga “useful knowledge”, to provide an equivalent for
“encyclopaedia”.
The columns summarise the nature of the relationship. The first shows the
number of words than can ultimately be traced to a particular
stage of the
language. The second indicates the more immediate source of the Māori term,
if its meaning has changed significantly
along the way. For example, the modern
Māori word tuakana “older sibling of the same sex” is
thought to be a reflex of Proto-Malayo-Polynesian *churang
“in-law”. The reflex of this word in Proto-Oceanic,
*ngkangka, or possibly *kaka, had acquired the sense of
“same sex sibling”, and had been prefixed with tua- and
suffixed with the pronoun *-na “his/her” by the time it was
inherited by Proto-Polynesian (and later by Māori) in the form *tuakana
“older same-sex sibling”. This
word has been counted as “Proto-Malayo-Polynesian” in its origin,
but with Proto-Polynesian as its more immediate source.
The third column relates
to the particular senses in which the word is used in Te
Mātāpunenga. In the case of tuakana, this is still close to
the reconstructed Proto-Polynesian meaning, so it is included in that tally.
However, many other words inherited
from or through Proto-Polynesian are
included in the “Māori” total, because the way their meaning
has been modified
in relation to laws or institutions seems to be unique to
Māori. An example is taniwha, from the Post-Philippine stage leading
to Proto-Oceanic, thence through Proto-Polynesian where, judging from the
reflexes in most
modern Polynesian languages, it referred to a large species of
shark. However, its distinctive meaning in Māori is not apparent
in those
earlier stages or in the modern Polynesian cognates. (If you are wondering how
monsters come to be included in Te Mātāpunenga, read the
entries under that Title!)
Origins of Māori terms in Te Mātāpunenga
Language stage
|
Ultimate source
|
Source of current meaning (general)
|
Source of specialised
(“legal”) meaning
|
Proto-Austronesian
|
10 (8.8%)
|
4 (3.5%)
|
2 (1.8%)
|
P-Malayo-Polynesian
|
9 (7.9%)
|
5 (4.4%)
|
1 (0.9%)
|
Oceanic
|
13 (11.4%)
|
8 (7.0%)
|
3 (2.6%)
|
Eastern Oceanic
|
9 (7.9%)
|
7 (6.1%)
|
1 (0.9%)
|
Proto-Polynesian
|
25 (21.9%)
|
30 (26.5%)
|
15 (13.2%)
|
P-Nuclear-Polynesian
|
9 (7.9%)
|
12 (10.5%)
|
6 (5.3%)
|
Eastern Polynesian
|
15 (13.2%)
|
24 (21.0%)
|
22 (19.3%)
|
Māori (local)
|
24 (21.0%)
|
24 (21.0%)
|
64 (56.0%)
|
Thus, at most less than a quarter of the words heading Te
Mātāpunenga Titles are completely home-grown, but almost half the
rest have, as far as we can tell, taken on distinctly local
connotations.
iii. the persistence of memory
It is very likely that other language groups also share some apparent
Māori innovations, but this has not yet been revealed by
dictionary-makers
and may also have been overlooked by ethnographers. Furthermore, even with the
information that we do have, some
of the words whose contemporary meanings are
assigned to a later stage of the history of the language (in the third column)
may arguably
reflect meanings that were already present in still earlier stages,
as illustrated by the discussion of some of the words inherited
from
Proto-Austronesian, below. Words are constantly sifted, refined and recycled as
they are passed on from one generation to the
next. Thus, although the referents
and nuances of many of the earlier words have been altered, the words themselves
have not been
discarded, and the threads of meaning
are still strong enough for their disparate forms in contemporary languages
to be traced back to a common source. In the case of Māori,
the influence
of Eastern Polynesia is particularly strong, with more than a fifth of the
concepts highlighted in Te Mātāpunenga closely aligned in form
and content to their Eastern Polynesian counterparts, and another fifth directly
reflecting ideas and practices
from earlier stages of Polynesian and wider
Austronesian history. There is thus a strong conservative current flowing
through the
language in which the concepts of customary law are expressed,
accompanied by a notable degree of adaptation and innovation. Old
ideas have
been retained and modified while new ideas have been developed. If we are to
understand them fully, it is important to
know something about the history of
these ideas, and also how they have developed in other parts of the Polynesian
and wider Austronesian
worlds. The etymological information provides a starting
point for this voyage of discovery.
Many of the old ideas are very pervasive, and some, like mana and tapu, have been powerful enough to spread well beyond their Polynesian, Oceanic and remoter Austronesian homelands. They have been ideas waiting for the world to discover. Others, like mā “shy, ashamed, embarrassed” have retained the same meaning over five or six millennia. This word, from Proto-Austronesian
*ma-siaq, through Proto-Oceanic *maRa, appears in Māori in the causative form whakamā. The idea, however, is far more widespread than the word itself. Shame has the same social meaning in many Austronesian societies; it is frequently expressed by another reflex of the same original term, such as the Tagalog word hiya. Another theme embedded in the lexicon is what James Fox has called “the concern for origins” as a prime marker of social identity.4
This is illustrated in the kinship terms, only three of which are present in
Te Mātāpunenga, but which are numerous, complex and almost all
inherited from earlier stages of the language and maintained with meanings
virtually
unchanged from those elsewhere in Eastern Polynesia. It also is
implicit in the status of the ariki (from Proto-Polynesian qariki,
“chief”), the first-born in a lineage who is endowed with spiritual
power and potentially, at least, political authority.
A. Blending the New with the Old
In the enumeration in the table, the only reflexes of Proto-Austronesian
words to be counted as having come into Māori with their
original meaning
intact are whakamā, discussed above, and hara, from *salaq
“wrong, error”. This word has been inherited by many languages,
including Māori, applied to mistakes and infringements
of the social or
moral order for which the perpetrator may
4 James J Fox “Austronesian societies and their transformations”, in Bellwood, Fox and Tryon
(eds) The Austronesians, above, n 3, 214 at 222.
be held culpable or accountable by a human or supernatural agency. However,
several other words also appear to reflect very ancient
ideas. These include
two, mauri “the life force” and tupu “grow,
develop”, to which we will return at the conclusion of this
discussion.5 Firstly, however, we can look at four other terms,
hoko “trade, exchange”, whenua “land;
afterbirth”, waka “canoe”, and tangihanga
“mourning ceremonies”, along with two compound terms, kawe
mate and tūrangawaewae.
Hoko. The immediate source of this word, to convey the notion of the
exchange of goods and/or services, is the Proto-Nuclear-Polynesian
word
*soko. The cognate forms in Rapanui and Rarotongan Māori, Marquesan,
Tuamotuan and Tahitian have meanings practically identical with
Māori
hoko. It is possible that the word comes from a Proto-Malayo-Polynesian
root, *dheket, reflected in Proto-Eastern Oceanic as *soko, which
has been glossed as “together, collectively”. This word is thought
to be the origin of Proto-Polynesian *soko “to join” –
a meaning retained in its cognates in Tongan and Samoan. However, this meaning
is not associated with
hoko in Eastern Polynesian languages, although the
idea of collective action or association is.
Whenua. This word has two complementary meanings: (1) land, ground or
country; and (2) placenta or afterbirth. The first of these meanings
comes from
Proto-Austronesian *banua “settlement” through Proto-Oceanic
*panua “land, earth, village, house” and Proto-Polynesian
*fanua “land”. The second sense seems to have arisen in
Polynesia, where the reflexes of *fanua also denote placenta (or, in
Rapanui, the uterus). The linguistic connection between land on the one hand and
collective and personal
identity on the other is particularly strongly marked in
Eastern Polynesia, where the proto-word *fenua (clearly a variant of the
Proto-Polynesian form) assumed the meanings of “land”,
“country” and “placenta”.
Waka. Historical linguists are unsure of the true origin of the
Māori word waka, although its antiquity is undisputed. It is derived
either
from a Proto- Austronesian word *wangka or *wangkang,
“boat”, or from a later word, dating from the time the Eastern
Malayo-Polynesian language was evolving into Proto-Oceanic,
and also,
confusingly, *wangka, denoting a canoe. Those opting for the later origin
argue that the other *wangka was originally a Chinese word which spread
within the Western Malayo-Polynesian languages after the East-West split had
taken place.
Whatever its origin, the Māori word denotes a canoe, and by
extension any vehicle for transporting people and goods, and also
those who have
been carried together; for example, the crew of a canoe, or a tribe (people
descended from one or more members of
a large sea-going
5 The material presented in this part of the paper is drawn from the various Titles in Te
Mātāpunenga, modified and augmented for the purposes of the
discussion.
canoe transporting their ancestors). The connotations of a tribe or descent
group are shared directly with other Eastern Polynesian
languages. However, the
association of canoes or boats with common descent or community is found
throughout Austronesia, although
the words used may not necessarily be cognate
with each other (for example, in the Philippines the smallest unit of local
government
is called a baranggay, a word with an original meaning of
“the crew of a boat”).
Tangihanga. This is the nominalised form of the verb tangi,
which has a general sense of giving forth a sound of a sustained and plaintive
or musical nature, and with specific meanings covering
to cry, weep over, weep
for, mourn, or singing a lament. While this word’s Proto-Austronesian
credentials are impeccable, its
appearance in Te Mātāpunenga is
an example of a local innovation in the word’s application. It refers to
the circumstances or occasion of mourning, and the
customs related to this. The
root word can also be used as a noun to denote a lament or the process of
lamentation and mourning.
The term tangihanga is derived from
Proto-Austronesian *tangit “weep, cry” through
Proto-Polynesian *tangi (by which time the additional connotation of
giving forth a sound, as noted above, was also present), combined with the
Proto-Polynesian
suffix -tanga. The use of this term to denote an
institution is probably unique to Aotearoa.
Kawe mate. Literally “bringing the death”, this phrase
denotes the custom of relatives of a deceased person (especially if they
are
from a noted family) visiting the marae or communities from which people came to
the tangihanga for the deceased. The visits normally take place within a
few weeks or months from the burial, and enable the whānau, hapū
or
iwi concerned to thank mourners from other districts, remember and pay tribute
to the deceased person, and, on occasion, to return
symbolic gifts presented by
the group visited at the tangi. The phrase itself seems to have developed in
Aotearoa. The component
words are inherited, mate (from
Proto-Austronesian *macey “die”, and kawe
“convey, go to get, bring”, from Proto-Polynesian *kawe
“to carry something”).
Tūrangawaewae. This word again does new things with old
components. Compounded from the nominalised form of the word tū
“stand” (from Proto- Austronesian *tuqed “be
standing”) and waewae “foot, leg” (from Proto-
Austronesian *waqay, with the same meaning). This expression appears to
be comparatively recent, first used by biblical scholars to translate the word
“footstool”, or in the literal sense of “a place to put the
feet”. It later came to mean “a place to
stand as of right”,
and became a common expression for one’s home marae, especially as
alienation of traditionally held
land left many people with no other foothold in
their tribal homeland. The historian
Michael King (2003) notes that this sense of the term gained wide currency
after Princess Te Puea chose the name “Tūrangawaewae”
for the
national marae she established at Ngāruawāhia.6
B. The Essence of Life
In conclusion, let us consider two terms, mauri “life
force” and tupu “grow, develop”, the first of which has
attracted considerable attention from scholars, and the other whose wider
ramifications
have often been overlooked.
Mauri was a central notion in Māori philosophy, although in its
abstract sense of “the essence which gives a thing its specific
natural
character”7 it had almost faded from memory by the
1960s,8 only to make a very strong resurgence in recent years,
especially in discussions on genetic modification and the natural environment.
The meaning of the word is difficult to grasp because it encapsulates two
related but distinct ideas: the life principle or essential
quality of a being
or entity, and a physical object in which this essence has been located.
Williams9 (1971) defines the abstract sense of the term first as
“life principle”, and equates the human manifestation of abstract
mauri with “the thymos of man”. The Greek notion of the mortal, but
immaterial, thymos, embracing consciousness, activity, rationality and
emotion (in contradistinction with the immortal but more quiescent
psyche) probably parallels Māori thought on this aspect of mauri
(and its contrast with the notion of wairua) as accurately as is
possible in a brief English definition. There is certainly no single English
word to express this concept. Joan
Metge’s definition, quoted above,
covers the wider sense of the abstract connotations of mauri well; it is
important to remember
that the kinds of “thing” which the mauri
integrates include ecosystems and social groups as well as objects and
individuals.
From the abstract senses of mauri come the expressions mauri ora
(vital or living mauri – sometimes equated with “person”),
mauri rere (fleeing mauri – “panic stricken”), and so
on. The concrete representations or depositories of the mauri,
particularly that of a cultivation, productive area of forest, fishery,
community or social group, were also called mauri; when both the abstract
and physical symbol were being discussed at the same time, the term ariā
might be used for the concrete aspect of mauri. (It should be
6 Michael King Te Puea: A Life (2nd ed, Reed, Auckland, 2003) at 104-105.
7 Joan Metge The Maoris of New Zealand: Rautahi (Routledge & Keegan Paul, London,
1976) at 57.
8 Ibid. Joan Metge noted in this 1976 revised edition of The Maoris of New Zealand (first published 1967) that while still believed by “many older Maoris”, this notion “no longer has general currency, probably because it was not reinforced by Christian beliefs, as tinana and wairua were”.
9 Herbert Williams A Dictionary of the Māori Language (7th
ed, Government Printer, Wellington, 1971).
noted that in some recent writing, the terms mauri and wairua
seem to be used interchangeably; this was not the case in the 19th century,
by which time the notions of “life essence”
and
“spirit”, still combined in the cognates of mauri in some
other Polynesian languages, had been separated in Māori thought.)
This is an ancient term, derived from the Austronesian *qudip “to live”, through Oceanic *ma’udip (incorporating the stative prefix ma-) to Proto- Polynesian *ma’uri “live, life (principle), alive”. In modern Polynesian languages, cognate terms occur in Samoan (mauli, “seat of the emotions”), Hawaiian (mauli “life, seat of life, spirit”, also Mauli Ola, a name for the god of health who is also called on to protect the integrity of a new household) and Rarotongan (with a similar range of meanings); the term has been refined and deepened as a technical philosophical notion in Aotearoa. However, this deepening and refining is not something unique to Māori, and it may well be that the term, which has been treated in the Table as of Austronesian origin but with a locally evolved meaning, is, even in the way that it is used in Māori, Austronesian in both form and content. The Proto-Austronesian root word,
*qudip, has reflexes in at least 235 daughter languages,10
some at least of which, even in their dictionary definitions, seem very
close in meaning to the Māori term. For example, in Old
Javanese the word
(hurip) is glossed “life, give life, bring to life, grant life (not
kill)” and in modern Javanese (urip) as “life; to live, be
alive; soul, spirit, inner life”. Despite the fact that their speakers had
been out of contact
for at least four millennia, the evolution of the term in
Māori, Javanese and other languages seems to have followed the same
trajectory. Looking at these data in his Austronesian Comparative Dictionary,
Robert Blust comments:11
Dempwolf [the pioneer exponent of the relationship between the various
branches of the Austronesian languages] reconstructed *qudip “to
live”, and although this semantic reconstruction is justified, it appears
incomplete in a number of respects due to
differences in the “conceptual
focus” ... of the German/English and Austronesian terms.
After discussing the “dominance of vitality” conveyed in the use of the reflexes
of this term in so many Austronesian languages, he observes that:
If anything in English reminds us of this conceptual focus it is perhaps the
depiction of the life force in Dylan Thomas12
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age ...
10 Robert A Blust Austronesian Comparative Dictionary (Computer File) (Department of
Linguistics, University of Hawaii, 1995).
11 Ibid, entry for *qudip.
12 Dylan Thomas Collected Poems 1934-1952 (JM Dent & Sons,
London, 1952) at 9.
Dylan Thomas did not have a name for this force; the Austronesians did, and
their heirs still do. Professor Blust discusses the extended
meanings of the
term in many Austronesian languages, including the word’s use in
connection with sneezing (as in the Māori
expression Tihe! Mauri
ora), which “undoubtedly derive from formulaic expressions wishing
health or protection from the loss of the soul”. He goes
on to
say:13
Although this is substantially similar to traditional European beliefs, the
different emphasis of the Austronesian term in comparison
with the English term
is seen again in the recurrent references to healing, curing, reviving and
recovering (where the life force
is reasserting not merely its presence, but its
dominance).
In Māori, at least, the local reflex of *qudip, mauri, has
received a lot of attention from linguists, anthropologists and other scholars.
But another term, tupu “grow, develop”, has so far received
intensive examination (as far as I am aware) from only one. It has been
overlooked,
I think, because of its apparent ordinariness. Yet the intensive
examination of original texts, the kind of activity on which Te
Mātāpunenga is based, and which it seeks to stimulate, often
reveals an extraordinary richness in the way in which such words are
used.
In Māori, the word tupu (in Eastern dialects, tipu) has a
core meaning of growth and increase. It also covers development, social position
and the realisation of potential. It originates
from Proto-Malayo-Polynesian
*tumbuq, through Proto-Eastern Oceanic *tumpu and Proto-Polynesian
*tupu, with an apparently constant sense at each stage of “grow,
spring up”. The scholar who brings tupu into sharp focus is the
Danish anthropologist J Prytz Johansen. He characterises tupu as
“Life in its essential meaning, life which is worth living, the strength
and courage of life thus are identical with honour.
Life and honour constitute
an indissoluble whole: ‘tupu’...”14 and later notes
that15
What is most interesting ... is the fact that mate, weakened, when
referring to human beings is point by point the counterpart of tupu.
Tupu may mean “arise, come into existence” and
“mate” may mean “to be dead”. Just as tupu
includes the meanings of “thriving” and “gathering
strength”, so mate may denote all degrees of “being
weakened”. The context must decide how bad things are. ... Mate
thus is the opposite of the vitality and spirit contained in
tupu.
Again, the Māori usages of this term in its philosophical applications are
paralleled by those in other Austronesian languages. Robert Blust
reports that:16
13 Above n 10. J Prytz Johansen, The Maori and His Religion in Its Non-Ritualistic Aspects
(Ejnar Munksgaard, Copenhagen, 1954) at 48.
14 Johansen, The Maori and His Religion in Its Non-Ritualistic Aspects, at 48.
15 Ibid, at 49.
16 Blust, Austronesian Comparative Dictionary (above n 10),entry for
*tumbuq
reflexes [of *qudip] in Malayo-Polynesian languages show recurrent
references to vegetation and to growth, a component of meaning which is
reinforced
by the observation that *qudip has been replaced in a number
of the languages of Sulawesi by reflexes of *tumbuq “to
grow”.
In Māori, and probably other languages, the reflex of *tumbuq has
been given meanings complementary to *qudip/mauri, to express
further insights into the nature and ordering of life and living.
iV. sAiLing beyond the reef
The addition of the etymologies to the definitions provided for each Title provides an opening into a wider world, still largely unexplored. The material within the compendium illustrates the waxing (and in some cases the waning, through forgetfulness and lack of use) of the scope and significance of the ideas which the key words encapsulate. There is even more to be learned, however, about the history of these ideas though exploring their correlates in the other languages of the Pacific, South-east Asia and Madagascar which share with Māori a common Austronesian heritage. Many of the concepts underpinning Māori customary law have an ancient history, and their future development, their tupu, can only be enhanced by an awareness of how the rest of Austronesia has come to regard these matters.
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