Remembering the Waikato War, Te Riri ki Tainui

October 28 is He is Ra MaumaharaNew Zealand’s national war memorial day. This essay is an extract from Vincent O’Malley’s recently published book Invasion of the Waikato | Te Riri Ki Tainui.

The Mangatauhiri River is a small waterway that has a large place in New Zealand’s history. As an official Imperial Army report for August 1863 noted, “the passage of this stream by European forces has always been regarded by the natives of the Waikato as tantamount to a declaration of war.”

A few weeks earlier, at dawn on 12 July 1863, Lieutenant General Duncan Cameron had led a group of 380 British troops across the river that marked the boundary between Kingitanga territory and Crown-controlled territories. British troops and their civilian partners in the capital, Auckland – Governor George Gray and settler government ministers – knew exactly what they were doing: they were invading the Waikato, home to some of the largest and most powerful iwi in the country, and the heart of Kingitanga, the Maori Kings movement. The Crown effectively declared war on Queen Victoria’s Treaty partners.

In essence, the fighting that took place over the next nine months was a struggle between two competing visions of what New Zealand was and could become. Although Europeans mostly expected them to preside, under the Treaty of Waitangi Maori were promised continued control of their own affairs and participation in matters of mutual interest to both peoples, Maori and Pakeha. So what was it? Will the Pakeha finally gain the dominance and control they have long expected and longed for, or will the Maori hopes for a relationship based on mutual respect and partnership finally be realized? The answer will determine the fate of the nation for the next century or more, and it is the Waikato War – Te Riri ki Tainui – that will provide it.

This is why Ngāti Hauā rangatira Wiremu Tāmihana was right to describe this conflict as “the great war for New Zealand”. The stakes couldn’t be higher. It was a defining and transformative conflict in the nation’s history. Far more New Zealanders were involved in the two world wars of the twentieth century in absolute terms, but it was the Waikato War that had a greater impact on the course and direction of New Zealand as a whole. This is the story of how we got to where we are today.

The Waikato tribes have long been considered among the Crown’s closest allies – so much so that large numbers of the Tainui people moved to the outskirts of Auckland in the 1840s to protect the settlement from hostile iwi. But everything changed in 1858 when Potatau Te Werougero of the Tainui tribe Ngati Mahuta became the first Maori king. Although supporters explained that they chose the “kīngi” (king) not as a challenge to Queen Victoria, but simply as a center of unity for Māori, representatives of the crown chose to see things differently. They began to plan how to undermine and finally destroy Kingitanga, a course that led to the invasion of Waikato five years later.

Against all odds, Kingitanga survived the onslaught against it and continues to thrive today. But the Tainui tribes and their allies paid a terrible price – the number of dead in relative terms was several times higher than that suffered by New Zealand troops during the First World War. Those who survived, often traumatized or scarred for life – physical or psychological – found their way of life destroyed. Entire villages were razed to the ground, crops burned, livestock looted, waka smashed and taonga stolen. A profitable and until recently prosperous economy was brought to a sudden halt. The effects of these actions were compounded by the massive and indiscriminate confiscation of large tracts of Tainui-owned land between Auckland in the north and the Puniu River in the south – a total of 1.2 million acres – as punishment for alleged “rebellion”, which the Crown assumed would leave no other choice but to invade.

In effect, the Tainui tribes were forced to shoulder the costs of their own suppression. And the current legacy of this history continues to be felt and experienced in various ways. It is in the still dismal socio-economic statistics for Māori in the region, in the names of streets and towns throughout the Waikato, and in the many monuments and memorials to the Crown forces that took part in the invasion. This is evident in the Pakeha amnesia for this story that lasted so long, and even in the names Tainui parents gave their children to ensure that the stories of what happened were spread and remembered, at least in their own communities.

In November 1995, Queen Victoria’s great-great-granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth II, signed the Waikato Raupatu Claims Settlement Act in the presence of Potatau Te Werougero’s great-great-great-granddaughter, the Māori Queen, Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu. In addition to monetary compensation of US$170 million (only 1.7 percent of the value of the confiscated lands), the Act also contained an unprecedented apology from the Crown “for the loss of human life in hostilities occasioned by its invasion, and for the devastation to property and public life which arose”. The apology also stated that “The Crown acknowledges that its agents and advisers have acted unjustly and violated the Treaty of Waitangi in their dealings with Kiingitanga and the Waikato, by throwing their forces across the Mangataauhiri in July 1863, and by unjustly calling the Waikato rebels.”

At first glance, the term “invasion” may seem loaded. After all, how could the Crown invade its own realm? This was also the position the Royal Negotiators initially took in their discussions with Waikato-Tainui in the 1990s, before eventually relenting and agreeing to include the word in the settlement agreement. They were right to do so. Ultimately, the area south of the Mangatauhiri River was controlled by the Tainui tribes until 12 July 1863, and their right to govern their own affairs was confirmed in Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The boundary was named, and the consequences of crossing it were clear to all. As the British recognized, this would be an act of war. And it’s not that Europeans of that time avoided this phrase. Cameron, for example, wrote in 1861 of “the amount of force necessary to invade the Waikato country”. Attorney-General Frederick Whitaker said “an attack on the Waikato should not be just an invasion”. Contemporary newspaper reports abound with references to the “Waikato Invasion” (or “Waikato”).

Some Pakeha today find it difficult to accept such a framing. A small group of malcontents continues to claim, despite all the evidence, that the Waikato tribes were to blame for the war all along. But apart from this far-right fringe element, the case was completely closed. When even the Crown refuses that narrative, you know it’s time to move on. This is not to cast this “difficult” history aside, but rather to give it the importance it deserves in our national history.

There have been some positive steps in this direction in recent years as New Zealanders come to terms with our history, warts and all. One such step was the establishment of a national New Zealand war memorial day, Te Pūtake o te Riri, He Rā Maumahara, held annually on 28 October.

The impetus for this came from students and supporters of Otorohanga College who marched to Parliament in 2015 to deliver a petition calling for such a recognition. This soon expanded into a nationwide campaign to improve the teaching of New Zealand history in schools, resulting in a new secondary school history curriculum introduced in 2023.

Waikato Invasion | Te Riri Ki Tainui by Vincent O’Malley ($40, Bridget Williams Books) is available for purchase through Unity Books.