𝗔 𝘁𝗮𝘅𝗽𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗿-𝗳𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗭𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱'𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸: David McClelland was a psychologist who analysed children’s books to understand the values of different cultures. His work is summarised in Richard Prebble’s classic I’ve Been thinking. The basic conclusion is that societies who tell their children they can make a difference in their own lives, if they take responsibility and make an effort, will grow wealthy and peaceful. Those who tell their children that life is a bit like bad weather, something you’re powerless to change, have difficult times ahead. It worked. Writing in the 1950s, McClelland was able to forecast Japan’s economic miracle based on his study of their nursery rhymes. It was a big call for a war-torn country under foreign occupation. That basic story has become the kernel of the modern ACT Party. Own your future, change your future, real change, change makers, make a difference in your own life and the lives of those you care about… Individuals matter because they’re the only entity that can choose to act, and sometimes the most unlikely people have insights that will benefit us all. Why does the Party care about property rights? Because it’s hard to make a difference if everything you acquire gets nicked by criminals, or the IRD, or if you can’t use your property the way you want to because of red tape. It’s also why education matters, and you shouldn’t be discriminated against on any personal characteristic. What, then to make of Paku Manu Ariki Whakatakapōkai? Apparently the best picture book at the book awards for children this year, by McClelland’s standards it shows New Zealand is stuffed. The story has barely been covered in New Zealand, with two exceptions. A beautiful op-ed by Josie Pagani, that contrasts the book with Barack Obama’s liberalism, and a gushing interview with the author published by the parallel state-funded universe that is The Spinoff. The story is a stream of consciousness from a young boy. "My name is Paku Manu Ariki Whakatakapōkai, you can call me Paku Manu Ariki Whakatakapōkai." And he’s off. The usual reason for saying ‘you can call me…’ is to offer an alternative. It’s a sign of friendship and a will to get on with one another. Instead Paku uses the phrase to insist right off the bat that you must use his 13 syllables. The book carries on in this vein, Paku believes that he was created at the same time as the universe and everyone was created at the same time. He doesn’t understand why there are rules or anyone is required to follow them, but he’s sure they shouldn’t apply to him. Then the author has him say "I will hit all the English people in the face because they stole the land”. And "My Dad is Māori like me. I feel sorry for my Mum. She's only Pākehā.” The kind interpretation, that the author sells (and may genuinely believe) is that the book is designed to ‘stimulate conversations.’ The voice is simply the musings of a child, why be so hard on him? As Pagani says, ‘those sound like adult words.’ The author doesn’t challenge the tropes that she puts in the mouth of the young child. There’s no conclusion that racially motivated violence is actually a bad thing. There’s only reference to Nana, who says you shouldn’t hit people, but she is abandoned as a quaint figure. Parents (Paku is modelled on the author’s son) are apparently not to guide their children, they’re there to be their friends. Rather than passing on values of achievement, cooperation, respect for the dignity of others, Paku’s worst instincts (or is that the author’s prejudices?) are amplified. Besides winning the Picture Book award, this book was funded by Creative New Zealand. This is the same Creative New Zealand that funded Tusi’ata Avia’s poem that cast Captain Cook as an avatar for Europeans in New Zealand and celebrated stabbing him with a pig knife. Of course, the Government, and specifically Arts Minister Paul Goldsmith, is turning over appointments in these outfits and setting new expectations. Nonetheless this book, its taxpayer funding, and its national award show how deeply ingrained is New Zealand’s appetite for self-destruction. Only by recommitting ourselves to universal human rights—equal rights—for each and every person can we overcome such corrosive thinking. Thankfully, there is a whole political party committed to doing just that.

"My four children are Maori. They are also Pakeha. And through my husband’s side, they are Cambodian. But above all, they are individual people, with unique experiences and their own perspectives on the world. "I find it offensive, and frankly racist, that anyone would put one aspect of their identity on a pedestal, above all the rest." -Karen Chhour #ChangeMakers