Warren Pyke
Karakia are ritual chants invoking spiritual guidance and protection. They emerge from Māori cultural myths and practices and are nowadays generally used to secure a favourable outcome for important events such as tangihanga (the ritual of farewell to deceased) and hui (meetings), although karakia can occur at diverse times and places, such as urupa, on marae, pa or in homes.
The many and varied uses of karakia among the southern tribes was recounted in detail by James Herries Beattie in Lifeways of the Southern Māori (Otago University Press, 2024 ed.). Beattie’s book was edited by Athol Anderson from painstaking ethnological studies carried out in the 1920s: it sources from a wide variety of oral histories and preserved accounts. Beattie casts light on the meaning of the word ‘karakia’, observing that while it is often translated as prayer, this meaning does not align with the practice of ‘prayer’ in Christian belief.
Karakia are traditionally an invocation addressed to some particular god at some particular moment, for some particular purpose (Beattie, at 207). For example, to give protection to a fishing expedition. The effect of karakia could be heightened by mystical references, but historically they invoked some god in order to bring about or prevent something from occurring; sometimes tohunga or kaumātua would deliberately obscure their meaning when chanting karakia in order to shroud their intent, which might be benign or intend harm (Beattie, at 207).
As Christianity spread throughout New Zealand in the 19th century and as tohunga were suppressed and the era of the Māori prophets unfolded into the early 20th century, karakia drew more from the biblical tradition and Christian mysticism. There has been a modern resurgence of karakia, some of which may call upon traditional Māori atua (gods/guardians) and which may convey traditional imagery and metaphors. To truly understand traditional karakia requires an in-depth knowledge of Māoritanga.
No place in court
Although I am neither a Christian nor a believer in the Māori gods, I have been present when karakia have been chanted on marae and pa. Karakia can create a special atmosphere and empower Māori to express themselves in ways that are appropriate to the occasion or place. Such use of karakia is a matter of choice for the tangata whenua or their kaumatua.
However, I agree with Gary Judd KC that, except in instances where some sensitivity is required for a victim and their whanau or owing to the subject matter of the litigation, general use of karakia in courts is out of place.
Courts are not places of spiritual or religious observance, not do they fit seamlessly into the program of revivalist Māoritanga movements. Courts are open to all the people of New Zealand, of all faiths and cultures, or of no faiths: those who do not identify with Māori traditional culture but have to be at a court cannot be supposed to willingly participate in any established practice of karakia at a courthouse.
Most people attend courts because they have to be there (including those who work in the courts). Most people who do not work in courts try to avoid them. In this respect, they are like hospitals. Pain and suffering can be expected to be encountered, along with coercion (few willingly go to prison). Unless the participants in a proceeding have embraced karakia for a sitting of the court, and the judge agrees, to my mind karakia will generally be out of place in a modern New Zealand courtroom. I explain why.
Advocates of the use of te reo Māori say “kei ō tātou ringaringa te ora, te mate rānei o tō tātou reo” which, in broad translation, means “use te reo or lose it”. Te reo is an essential part of karakia; frequent use of karakia supports the revival of te reo. But if a person does not understand te reo, there can be little understanding of karakia.
Court users who do not speak te reo will be confronted with a communication barrier by untranslated karakia; they are not like the man over whom Tahupotiki Wiremu Ratana pronounced the words, “Nau, to tatou reo” who then, it is retold, spoke and understood te reo instantly (see this event recorded in Newman, Ratana the Prophet, Oratia Books, Auckland 2024 ed., at 212).
No kaumatua, judge or registrar has the power of a prophet to bestow instant understanding. I suppose everyone could be given an English translation, like a prayer book in church, but this approach seems unworkable unless courtroom karakia is standardised throughout the country (which seems to me to defeat the purpose, as it ought to be tailored to the occasion).
Karakia has no universal content. Drawing from personal experience, many years ago I once had cause to discuss the use of karakia in a proceeding with my uncle, Raniera Ratana (late Tumuaki of the Ratana church). The proceeding involved the affairs of the Ratana church. A request was made to the presiding judge and a short, rather bland karakia was chanted.
According to Ratana doctrine, Māori gods were pagan gods and to invoke them by karakia could be harmful to people. Ratana karakia were not necessarily acceptable to other Christian faiths (which may, for example, reject invocation of the holy angels, which is an orthodox aspect of the Ratana faith).
The need for caution also emerges from a reading of Beattie’s book and other histories. For example, according to Tāmati Te Ito, a 19th century Māori prophet, in one tradition atua (spirit beings) existed on three levels, the Paihia god being foremost, the Catholic god coming second in the hierarchy, followed by the ancestral gods, atua whakapakoko (Jeffrey Sissons, The Forgotten Prophet, Bridget Williams Books, Wellington, 2023, at 42).
Not everyone in contemporary New Zealand would be comfortable invoking traditional Māori, pantheistic or even Christian deities.
Freedom of belief
In summary, karakia is not culturally neutral. Karakia may consist of invocations to certain gods or it may consist of benign incantations, emanating from tradition or from the creative mind of the chanter. But unless the hearer knows and understands te reo in its cultural context, karakia chanted other than in traditional settings risks becoming performative.
The purpose of courts is to deliver justice: not to educate, not to indoctrinate and not to convert.
No-one appearing in a court of justice should be expected to participate in or be required to passively acquiesce in the cultural practices of another group. The courts exist to deliver justice to all the people of New Zealand. All court users are entitled to freedom of cultural belief and practice, by virtue of the Bill of Rights Act. Under New Zealand law no-one, whether in a position of authority or not, is entitled to impose others’ cultural beliefs and practices on people who do not believe in them.
While the Treaty of Waitangi preserves and protects Māoritanga, it does not authorise its infliction on non-Māori. We live in a modern multicultural, open society, not an early 19th century colony when large swathes of the country were governed by rangatira, who were guided by the superstitions of tohunga.
Times have radically changed. Tolerance of cultural difference is required from us all, particularly from those in authority, whether Māori or not. Which means we ought not to inflict our beliefs on others who may have no choice other than to sit and listen after being compelled to attend a courthouse, and who will often be oblivious as to the meaning and significance of a karakia, an experience which might be unfortunately alienating for some people.
In conclusion, other than instances which I have identified, I am against the ritual use of karakia in the civil and criminal courts.
As to the Northland courts, where many young Māori are appearing every week, what is urgently needed is what is necessary in most courts of New Zealand: an improved and well-resourced administration, focusing on the delivery of quality and uniform justice, safe and well-designed facilities, a better use of technology and the recruitment and retention of well-trained staff and able, mature judges.
In this respect, karakia or other incantations will add little. Moreover, such utterances will likely be cold comfort to litigants who may experience the hard edges of a justice system that perennially just manages to perform its core functions.
Warren Pyke is an Auckland barrister and a member of The Law Association’s council
I tend to agree with the author. When I was a Wellington City Councillor, we were repeatedly provided submissions that commenced with a flurry of te reo, that submitters thought might help swing a left leaning council – which is true. But such political considerations should not be applicable to the bench. I rarely said the karakia at Council because I felt it was a disrespectful form of cultural appropriation and lip service to the kids I used to act for in my criminal law days in Hawkes Bay.