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        <author><name key="name-121641" type="person">R. G. Crocombe</name></author>
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            <date when="1961">1961</date>
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    <front xml:id="t1-front">
      <div type="covers" xml:id="_N65595">
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            <figDesc>Front Cover</figDesc>
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            <figDesc>Back Cover</figDesc>
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      <titlePage xml:id="_N65632">
        <docTitle>
          <titlePart type="main">Land Tenure in the Cook Islands</titlePart>
        </docTitle>
        <byline>
          <docAuthor rend="center">R. G. Crocombe</docAuthor>
        </byline>
        <docImprint rend="center">
          <pubPlace>CANBERRA</pubPlace>
          <docDate>
            <date when="1961">1961</date>
          </docDate>
        </docImprint>
      </titlePage>
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      <div type="halftitle" xml:id="_N65670">
        <head>
          <hi rend="c">Land Tenure in the Cook Islands</hi>
        </head>
        <p rend="center">A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Australian National University by Ronald Gordon Crocombe</p>
        <p rend="right">
          <date when="1961-07">July 1961</date>
        </p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n0b"/>
      <div type="quotation" xml:id="_N65695">
        <p rend="indent">‘The productivity of the land and the social advancement of the people are dependent as much on the evolution of sound systems of land tenure as upon the development of improved agricultural practise.’</p>
        <closer>
          <signed rend="right">Lord Hailey</signed>
        </closer>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n0c"/>
      <div type="declaration" xml:id="_N65721">
        <head>Declaration</head>
        <p>This thesis is based on original research conducted by the author during the course of a Research Scholarship in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="i" xml:id="ni"/>
      <div type="contents" xml:id="_N65742">
        <head><hi rend="c">Table of Contents</hi></head>

          <table rows="119" cols="3">
            <row>
              <cell>Preface</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#nv">v</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Acknowledgements</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#nvi">vi</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Abbreviations</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#nx">x</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Glossary and Conventions</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#nxii">xii</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 1</cell>
              <cell>Introduction</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n1">1</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">Part One: <hi rend="c">The Pre-Contact Land Tenure System of Rarotonga</hi></cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 2</cell>
              <cell>Historical background - c. 875 to <date when="1823">1823</date> A.D.</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n12">12</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Early settlement</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n13">13</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Takitumu: the tribe of Tangiia</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n17">17</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Karika's tribe: Te Au o Tonga or Avarua</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n20">20</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Arorangi: the tribe that broke away</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n26">26</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Relations between the tribes</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n27">27</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 3</cell>
              <cell>Social organization</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n31">31</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The tribe (vaka)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n31">31</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The major lineage (ngati)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n35">35</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The minor lineage (ngati)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n40">40</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The extended family (uanga)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n42">42</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The nuclear family (puna) and the young unmarrieds (mapu)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n42">42</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The commoner (unga or tangata rikiriki)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n42">42</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Demographic composition</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n45">45</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Specialists</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n47">47</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Marriage</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n48">48</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Transmission of titles</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n51">51</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 4</cell>
              <cell>The distribution of rights to land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n60">60</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The role of the titleholder</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n61">61</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rights of the tribe</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n64">64</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rights of the lineage</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n66">66</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rights of the extended family</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n71">71</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rights of the individual</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n73">73</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 5</cell>
              <cell>The acquisition and loss of rights to land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n84">84</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By discovery and settlement</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n84">84</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By conquests</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n85">85</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By allocation and occupation within the landholding group</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n88">88</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="ii" xml:id="nii"/>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By inheritance</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n89">89</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By reversion</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n92">92</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By marriage</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n93">93</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By gift and permissive occupation</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n96">96</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>By adoption</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n98">98</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The pattern of acquisition</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n102">102</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The loss of rights to land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n104">104</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 6</cell>
              <cell>The utilization and role of land in Rarotonga</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n107">107</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The economic exploitation of land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n107">107</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The role of land in social relations</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n114">114</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The state of land rights in <date when="1823">1823</date></cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n120">120</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">Part Two: THE IMPACT OF EUROPEAN CULTURE ON LAND TENURE 1823–98</cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 7</cell>
              <cell>Changes in the distribution of land and land rights</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n124">124</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>New patterns of settlement</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n124">124</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The effects of social and demographic upheaval</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n133">133</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Foreign settlement</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n145">145</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 8</cell>
              <cell>The form and function of introduced laws</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n155">155</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The Mission role</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n155">155</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The functioning of the laws</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n159">159</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Protection and Federation 1888–98</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n165">165</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 9</cell>
              <cell>The new role of land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n172">172</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The production of surpluses</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n172">172</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Changes in production patterns</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n175">175</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The leasing and lending of land</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n179">179</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The status of women</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n180">180</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Differentiation of the social classes</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n181">181</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">Part Three: THE LAND COURT: ITS FORM, FUNCTION AND EFFECTS</cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 10</cell>
              <cell>The establishment of the Land Court</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n190">190</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>A shift in the balance of power</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n190">190</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Annexation and the creation of a Land Court</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n196">196</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The Court established</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n198">198</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Foreign settlement</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n200">200</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The act of <date when="1915">1915</date></cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n205">205</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Appeals and rehearings</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n209">209</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 11</cell>
              <cell>The Land Court in action</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n211">211</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Determining ownership</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n211">211</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Title to village lands</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n217">217</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The progress of Court investigations</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n222">222</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="iii" xml:id="niii"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 12</cell>
              <cell>Court practice and native custom</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n225">225</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rights of women (and through women)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n226">226</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The rights of absentees (contingent and secondary right-holders)</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n233">233</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The effects of erroneous Court interpretations</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n238">238</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 13</cell>
              <cell>Tenure reform and productivity</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n247">247</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Early experiments in increasing productivity</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n247">247</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Productivity changes since annexation</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n250">250</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The causes of productivity decline</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n263">263</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 14</cell>
              <cell>Recent developments</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n272">272</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The Occupation Rights scheme</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n272">272</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Later experiments</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n278">278</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>New patterns of work organization</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n283">283</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Chapter 15</cell>
              <cell>Future possibilities</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n286">286</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The demographic context</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n286">286</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Advantages of the existing system</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n288">288</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Future possibilities: the range of feasibility</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n290">290</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Fragmentation of title</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n293">293</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Facilitating transfer</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n298">298</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The constitution and functions of the Court</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n304">304</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Incorporation: a possible tenure innovation</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n309">309</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center"><hi rend="u">Appendices</hi></cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>A</cell>
              <cell>Schedule of laws and other provisions relating to land in the Cook Islands</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n315">315</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>B</cell>
              <cell>The Ngati Te Ora case: an illustration of the effects of Court practice</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n330">330</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>C</cell>
              <cell>Price index for the Cook Islands 1891–1959</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n349">349</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Bibliography</cell>
              <cell/>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n350">350</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">
                <hi rend="u">List of maps, tables and diagrams</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Maps</cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The Cook Islands in relation to neighbouring territories</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#nxv">xv</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Rarotonga: major cultural and physical features</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n14">14</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The pattern of land division: Turangi and adjacent tapere, Rarotonga</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n68">68</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="iv" xml:id="niv"/>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>The changing pattern of settlement: Turangi ma Nga Mataiapo</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n130">130</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Ngati te Ora lands, Takuvaine valley, Rarotonga</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n331">331</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center">
                <hi rend="u">Tables</hi>
              </cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>1A</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from the Cook Islands 1895–1905</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n252">252</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>1B</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from the Cook Islands 1906–15</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n253">253</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>2A</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mauke 1906–15</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n256">256</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>2B</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mangaia 1906–15</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n256">256</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>3</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from the Cook Islands 1921–30</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n257">257</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>4A</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mauke 1930–40</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n259">259</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>4B</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mangaia 1930–40</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n259">259</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>5</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from the Cook Islands <date when="1950">1950</date>–9</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n261">261</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>6A</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mauke <date when="1950">1950</date>–9</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n262">262</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>6B</cell>
              <cell>Exports of Agricultural Produce from Mangaia <date when="1950">1950</date>–9</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n262">262</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell rend="center"><hi rend="u">Diagrams</hi></cell>
              <cell/>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Ideal structure of a Rarotongan tribe</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n32">32</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>A pre-contact example illustrating the pattern of transmission of rank titles</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n59">59</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>A hypothetical pre-contact household in Rarotonga</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n75">75</ref></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell/>
              <cell>Genealogy of the Ngati Te Ora</cell>
              <cell><ref type="page" target="#n342">342</ref>–<ref type="page" target="#n348">8</ref></cell>
            </row>
          </table>
      </div>
      <pb n="v" xml:id="nv"/>
      <div type="preface" xml:id="_N69360">
        <head><hi rend="c">Preface</hi></head>
        <p rend="indent">The authors of development programmes in the Pacific area today are more aware than their colonial predecessors of the significance of ‘custom’ as a factor to be reckoned with in the accomplishment of their objectives; an importance which remains regardless of whether custom is considered a helpful medium for facilitating the introduction of new ideas and techniques or an obstacle to innovation which has to be either overcome or circumvented.</p>
        <p rend="indent">For the most part, however, the acceptance of such a viewpoint has been in principle rather than in practice; and it is seldom indeed that the blue-prints of planning agencies have attempted to define the special segments of custom likely to affect the achievement of their aims, and even more seldom that detailed research has been undertaken to determine their precise nature.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The objective of this study is to examine a specific aspect of custom in a particular area: firstly, to determine its character and constituent traits in the precontact era; secondly, to identify and describe such modifications as were brought about by three generations of contact with European culture; and lastly, to describe and analyze the effects of modern administrative policies which are themselves essentially based on assumptions concerning such custom.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="vi" xml:id="nvi"/>
      <div type="acknowledgements" xml:id="_N69392">
        <head><hi rend="c">Acknowledgements</hi></head>
        <p rend="indent">Should any of my friends care to read this study, they would probably consider that this fact or that idea originated from them, and in all probability it did, for I have drawn on the knowledge and views of others to such an extent that it is not possible to acknowledge or identify the specific contribution of each of them.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The need for a study of land tenure in the Cook Islands was first suggested to me by Mr J.B. Wright, then Secretary of the Department of Island Territories (now High Commissioner for New Zealand in Western Samoa), and through the good offices of Professor J.W. Davidson of this University, facilities were provided to permit the research to be undertaken. It has been my good fortune to have had the project supervised by Mr H.E. Maude who has freely given of his wealth of experience in practical dealings with land tenure problems in the Pacific, as well as of his vast knowledge of the ethnohistory of the region. In addition to most helpful suggestions as to the carrying out of the project, Mr R.P. Gilson has made available all his historical material on the area, including comprehensive notes extracted from British Colonial Office and Foreign Office files as well as London Missionary Society records relating to the Cook Islands.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Field work was made possible by a generous grant from the Australian National University and by facilities made available in the field by the Department of Island Territories and the Cook Islands Administration. To Mr J.M. McEwen,
<pb n="vii" xml:id="nvii"/>
Secretary of Island Territories, and to Mr Geoffrey Nevill (then Resident Commissioner of the Cook Islands) I am indebted for complete access to official records, and for encouragement and interest in the project. To Judge H.J. Morgan, Chief Judge of the Land Court, and to Mr L.H. Trenn, Registrar, I am deeply conscious of a debt of gratitude for advice and information, comments and criticisms and for the personal inconvenience to which they have put themselves to be of assistance; the more so because I fear that the evidence here presented at times suggests defects in the institution they so ably represent, though in no way reflects on the integrity of the men concerned, or denies either their tremendous knowledge of land administration in the Cook Islands or the competence with which they have executed their functions. The Secretary to the Government, Mr L.K. Pitt, the Chief Surveyor Mr A.A. Bailey, the Director of Agriculture, Mr M.B. Baker and his assistants, Mr W.R. Hosking, Mr A. Hornsby and Mr Raui Pokoati, all gave generously of their time and their knowledge.</p>
        <p rend="indent">To Pa Terito Ariki of Takitumu, and to Kainuku Ariki, Mr and Mrs C.T. Cowan (Tau Puru Ariki and Vaikai Mataiapo), Mr G. Crummer (Tangiiau Mataiapo), and Mrs Clara Gladney (Maoate Mataiapo), I am deeply obliged for the invitation to carry out field studies in the progressive tapere of Turangi ma Nga Mataiapo on Rarotonga. Not without reason, the Maori people are cautious of investigations into questions of land tenure, and the generosity of these chiefs and their people in giving a considerable amount of time as well as a wealth of information will never be forgotten.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Rongomatane Tetupu Ariki of Atiu, the Ui Mataiapo, Ui Rangatira, the people of Tengatangi village and of Atiu as a whole, will always be affectionately remembered by my wife and I for their hospitality and kindness, and for their
<pb n="viii" xml:id="nviii"/>
constant efforts to be of assistance in the researches carried out on their island. Mr Ian Robertson, Resident Agent, gave generously of his time and records; Teariki Maka Kea M.L.A. devoted the whole of his time to assisting the research; and Vaine Rere M.L.A., Tangatapoto, and Matakeu willingly gave of their store of historical lore.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Of the many others in the Cook Islands whose assistance is acknowledged, mention must be made of Mr Ned Marsters of Palmerston Island; and Dr John A. Numa, Mr Teariki Tuavera and Tamaiva Iro Rangatira, all of Rarotonga. Mr A.O. Dare, who assumed the post of Resident Commissioner since my departure, kindly supplied data on the recent experiment with the Mauke fern lands.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Dr A.P. Vayda of Columbia University, Dr Donald S. Marshall of the Peabody Museum, Dr Neil Gunson of the University of Queensland, and Dr Norma McArthur of the Demography Department of this university have obliged with information and suggestions.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In addition to the continuous guidance of Mr Maude and Professor Davidson the following persons read drafts and gave of their specialized knowledge on specific aspects of the work. Mr H.W. Sheffler of the Anthropology Department of the University of Chicago commented on <ref type="chapter" target="#c1">chapters 2</ref> to <ref type="chapter" target="#c5">6</ref> and <ref type="chapter" target="#c11">12</ref>, Professor G. Sawer of the Law Department of this University read <ref type="chapter" target="#c9">chapters 10</ref>, <ref type="chapter" target="#c11">12</ref> and <ref type="chapter" target="#c14">15</ref>, Dr E.K. Fisk of the Economics Department assisted with <ref type="chapter" target="#c12">chapters 13</ref> to <ref type="chapter" target="#c14">15</ref>. Dr Emily Sadka of the Pacific History Department gave invaluable advice and assistance with the final revision of the whole work. While absolving them from any responsibility for the material here presented, I am nevertheless extremely grateful for their views, suggestions and criticisms.</p>
        <pb n="ix" xml:id="nix"/>
        <p rend="indent">The format, typography and preparation of duplimats has been handled by Mrs Aino Guenot with her customary precision and care and the maps were drawn in their final form by Messrs H. Gunther and J. Heyward. In addition to checking, correcting and suggesting improvements, a constant and stimulating encouragement has been provided at all times by my wife.</p>
      </div>
      <pb n="x" xml:id="nx"/>
      <div type="abbreviation" xml:id="_N69525">
        <head><hi rend="c">Abbreviations</hi></head>

          <table rows="29" cols="2">
            <row>
              <cell>AAAS</cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">Report of the Second Meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science, <date when="1890">1890</date></hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>ABCFM</cell>
              <cell>American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions archives, Boston, U.S.A.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>AMB</cell>
              <cell>Appellate Court Minute Book</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>ANU</cell>
              <cell>Australian National University</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>ATL</cell>
              <cell>Gurr papers, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>CIA</cell>
              <cell>Cook Islands Administration records, Rarotonga</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>DIT</cell>
              <cell>Department of Island Territories records, Wellington</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>FAO</cell>
              <cell>Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">Hansard</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">New Zealand Parliamentary Debates</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">JAA</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">Journal of African Administration</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">JPS</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">Journal of the Polynesian Society</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">JRAI</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>LEGAS</cell>
              <cell>Proceedings of the Legislative Assembly of the Cook Islands</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>LEGCO</cell>
              <cell>Proceedings of the Legislative Council of the Cook Islands</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>LMS</cell>
              <cell>London Missionary Society archives, London</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>MB</cell>
              <cell>Minute Book</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>NLC</cell>
              <cell>Native Land Court records (including records of the Appellate Court)</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">NZG</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">The New Zealand Geographer</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>NZNA</cell>
              <cell>New Zealand National Archives, Wellington</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell><hi rend="u">NZPP</hi></cell>
              <cell><hi rend="u">New Zealand Parliamentary Papers</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>PRO</cell>
              <cell>Public Records Office files, London, including records of the Colonial Office and Foreign Office (from notes by Mr R.P. Gilson)</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>PSI</cell>
              <cell>Collection of vernacular Rarotongan manuscripts (largely anonymous) held by the Polynesian Society Incorporated, Wellington</cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="xi" xml:id="nxi"/>
            <row>
              <cell>SBC</cell>
              <cell>Samoa British Consulate papers (from notes by Mr R.P. Gilson)</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>SSJ</cell>
              <cell>South Seas Journals of the London Missionary Society</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>SSL</cell>
              <cell>South Seas Letters of the London Missionary Society</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>SSR</cell>
              <cell>South Seas Reports of the London Missionary Society</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>TBC</cell>
              <cell>Tahiti British Consulate papers (held in the Mitchell Library, Sydney)</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>TLS</cell>
              <cell>Transactions of the Linnaen Society of London, second series, volume 6</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>WPHC</cell>
              <cell>Western Pacific High Commission records, Suva</cell>
            </row>
          </table>
      </div>
      <pb n="xii" xml:id="nxii"/>
      <div type="glossary" xml:id="_N70147">
        <head><hi rend="c">Glossary and Conventions</hi></head>
        <p rend="indent">The explanations given below have been kept as brief as possible and do not purport to be exhaustive. In particular, while many Maori<note xml:id="ftn1-xii" n="1"><p>Note that the term Maori is used in this thesis with the meaning ascribed to it in the Cook Island dialects, i.e. referring to the indigenous people of the Cook Islands or to things pertaining to them.</p></note> words have several meanings, only that which is relevant to the present study is given here. The Maori language, furthermore, does not alter the form of a noun in the plural, and this usage has been followed, while at the same time every effort has been made to avoid any confusion in the text on this account. Maori words which are used only once, and the meaning of which is explained, are not included in the glossary.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The common convention of underlining words in languages other than English has not been followed for two reasons: firstly because this is a study of a particular aspect of Maori culture, and in such a context it appears inappropriate to treat Maori words as foreign; and secondly because underlining has occasionally been used in the thesis to emphasize particular words or ideas, and the use of the same technique for two different purposes may cause confusion.</p>

          <table rows="30" cols="2">
            <row>
              <cell rend="center"><hi rend="u">Word</hi></cell>
              <cell rend="center"><hi rend="u">Brief explanation</hi></cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Akonoanga oire</cell>
              <cell>The custom under which, when villages were formed at the instigation of the first missionaries, each family was allotted a house-site to be held in perpetuity (either unconditionally or subject to continued occupation, tribute or other conditions).</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Aratiroa</cell>
              <cell>The obligation to provide food and services for the entertainment of distinguished visitors.</cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="xiii" xml:id="nxiii"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Arevananga</cell>
              <cell>The obligation to assist with labour, materials and food in the erection of buildings of a public nature (including the house of the ariki).</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Ariki</cell>
              <cell>A high chief, the titular head of a tribe.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Atinga</cell>
              <cell>An offering, in pre-contact times usually a religious offering, but used today as a generic name for tribute.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Au</cell>
              <cell>A local council having limited authority in certain parochial affairs.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Kainga tangata</cell>
              <cell>A household.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Kiato</cell>
              <cell>A branch or segment of a minor lineage.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Komono</cell>
              <cell>The deputy of a mataiapo.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Kopu tangata</cell>
              <cell>The kindred, or a member or members of the kindred.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Koutu</cell>
              <cell>The ‘royal court’ of an ariki - for fuller definition see <ref type="page" target="#n62">page 62</ref>.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Mana</cell>
              <cell>Power, authority, influence.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Maori</cell>
              <cell>The indigenous people of the Cook Islands, or things pertaining to them.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Marae</cell>
              <cell>A sacred ground at which ceremonies of a religious nature were carried out.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Mataiapo</cell>
              <cell>A chief of a major lineage. Each mataiapo was titular head of a tapere of land and the people who resided thereon.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Matakeinanga</cell>
              <cell>The local group occupying a tapere, and composed of the residential core of a major lineage plus affines and other permissive members.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Motu</cell>
              <cell>An islet within an atoll; or, an earth wall forming a boundary between taro patches.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Ngati</cell>
              <cell>A descent group headed by a titleholder.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Puna</cell>
              <cell>A nuclear family.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Rangatira</cell>
              <cell>A lesser chief under an ariki or mataiapo.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Ra'ui</cell>
              <cell>A customary prohibition on the use of resources or facilities.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Reo iku</cell>
              <cell>A verbal will made by a person about to depart or to die.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Tapere</cell>
              <cell>A sub-district, normally headed by a mataiapo or ariki, and occupied by a matakeinanga.</cell>
            </row>
            <pb n="xiv" xml:id="nxiv"/>
            <row>
              <cell>Taro</cell>
              <cell>Colocasia esculenta, a starchy root vegetable.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Tapu</cell>
              <cell>Sacred.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Tuika'a</cell>
              <cell>A slave.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Uanga</cell>
              <cell>An extended family, the residential core of which occupied a household.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Unga</cell>
              <cell>A commoner.</cell>
            </row>
            <row>
              <cell>Vaka</cell>
              <cell>A tribe, or the territory occupied by a tribe.</cell>
            </row>
          </table>
        <pb n="xv" xml:id="nxv"/>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="CroLan-f001">
            <graphic url="CroLan-001.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f001-g"/>
            <head>
              <hi rend="c">The Cook Islands in Relation to Neighbouring Territories and New Zealand</hi>
            </head>
          </figure>
        </p>
      </div>
      <pb n="1" xml:id="n1"/>
      <div type="introduction" xml:id="_N70823">
        <head>Chapter 1<lb/>
<hi rend="c">Introduction</hi></head>
        <p rend="indent">This study is set in the Cook Group, an archipelago of fifteen tiny islands totalling only 88 square miles in area, yet scattered over 850,000 square miles of the Pacific Ocean between Tonga and Samoa on the one hand, and French Polynesia on the other. Since <date when="1901">1901</date> the group has been included within the boundaries of New Zeland, and its 18,000 people, who are culturally close relatives of the Maoris of New Zealand, are therefore citizens of that country.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The islands are divided physically into two groups. The Northern Group consists of seven islands of coral formation which constitute the central segment of that scattered band of atolls that sweeps across the Pacific from French Oceania to the Marshalls. The Southern Group islands are, with two minor exceptions, of volcanic origin, and all eight islands lie within a radius of one hundred and fifty miles of Rarotonga, the administrative headquarters of the Government of the Cook Islands. In area the islands range from Nassau which is only 300 acres, to Rarotonga which covers 16,602 acres. The population of the permanently settled islands ranges from 92 on Palmerston to 7,827 on Rarotonga; the total for the whole group being 18,041.<note xml:id="ftn1-1" n="1"><p><hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1960">1960</date>:8.</p></note> The total population of the group was approximately 18,000 at the time of first European contact but declined rapidly thereafter until it reached about 8,000 at the turn of this century. Since that time, however, it has regained its former level.</p>
        <pb n="2" xml:id="n2"/>
        <p rend="indent">The group lacks mineral deposits of commercial value, and its principal natural resources are the soil and the sea - though the potential of the latter is as yet little known. The soils vary considerably in their productive potential, but only 9,523 acres or 16 per cent of the total land area of the group is considered suitable for agriculture.<note xml:id="ftn1-2" n="1"><p>Figures in this paragraph are based on Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils of the Lower Cook Group</hi>, and <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1960">1960</date>:8.</p></note> Of the balance, approximately 17 per cent is taken up by the infertile rubble and sand of the coral islands which can support little in the way of commercial crops other than the coconut, 27 per cent is taken up by second class soils which are suited to certain tree crops but which are at present relatively little utilized, and the remaining 40 per cent comprises the mountainous interior of Rarotonga and the makatea (upraised coral) outcrops of the other Southern Group islands which are at present completely unproductive.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The climate of the group is tropical and shows little seasonal variation. The mean annual temperature lies in the mid-seventies. Annual rainfall is about seventy to eighty inches and in general is well distributed throughout the year, except in the Northern Group where periods of drought are sometimes experienced. Hurricanes usually strike some part of the group once or twice in each decade, and the commercial productivity of the islands hit is severely disrupted for a year or more thereafter.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Of the wealth of truly indigenous vegetation found in the group, very little indeed makes any significant contribution to human welfare. The coconut, banana, breadfruit, taro and most of the other subsistence crops were introduced by the Polynesian immigrants to the islands in centuries past, and other crops like citrus, coffee and tomatoes came with
<pb n="3" xml:id="n3"/>
the wave of European expansion across the Pacific during the last two centuries.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the first part of the thesis an attempt is made to reconstruct the pre-contact land tenure system of Rarotonga, the largest and most populous island of the group. It was not possible to attempt a detailed description of the system of every single island as a basis on which to build a generalized model, owing to the time needed for such a task, and the inadequacy of the data available for the smaller islands. The main variations found to exist are between the systems applying on the atolls of the Northern Group and those of the high islands of the Southern Group, and are clearly imposed by environmental factors. Others, however, are attributable to differences in cultural origin – most markedly between the people of Pukapuka, whose origin lies in Western Polynesia, and those of the rest of the group, whose origin may be traced to Eastern Polynesia. To a lesser degree there are minor variations within each subgroup and even within individual islands, though no major differences are apparent between the islands of the Southern Group, which contains 85 per cent of the population and 86 per cent of the land area.<note xml:id="ftn1-3" n="1"><p>With the possible exception of Mangaia, about which little is known. The results of recent anthropological researches by Dr Donald S. Marshall should be available shortly and will presumably clarify the tenure situation on that island.</p></note></p>
        <p rend="indent">In describing a land system as it was a century and a half ago, it is of course impossible to obtain the degree of accuracy which can be obtained by a contemporary field survey, but if a study of change is to be made, it is essential that it should start by determining the cultural situation as it was at the temporal baseline of the study -
<pb n="4" xml:id="n4"/>
in this case the moment of contact with European civilization.<note xml:id="ftn1-4" n="1"><p>The date of first contact has been taken as <date when="1823">1823</date>, for, though Europeans had landed on the island in <date when="1814">1814</date>, it was not until <date when="1823">1823</date> that the islanders experienced prolonged contact with European culture. Even then it was Tahitian missionaries who were the agents of change, for no European missionaries came to settle until <date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note> Furthermore, in order to abstract the land tenure system from the totality of the culture, we must essay a more precise analysis of the nature of land rights and obligations recognized; the spatial, temporal, demographic and juristic dimensions of each right and obligation; and the social and political structure within which the rights were organized.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In reconstructing the pre-contact land tenure system of Rarotonga we have five major sources of evidence. In the first place we have the physical features of the island, which have had clearly discernible and important effects on land use and concomitant tenure; and with this may be coupled the archaeological record - marae and house sites, boundary marks and grave-yards, irrigation works and terracing. There is also the one paved road which is still clearly discernible and which led right round the island following the low-lying fertile strip, but there were no roads or paths across the mountains. Sub-surface archaeological research, on the other hand, though one of the most useful aids to reconstruction, has not yet begun on Rarotonga.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Our second source of evidence is the mass of recorded data left by members of the culture concerned, people who were in many cases active participants in the pre-contact tenure system but who naturally did not make written records until the art of writing had been introduced and the process of change had begun. Rarotongans, in common with many other Polynesians, have exceptionally long memories, particularly for names, relationships and incidents. Their memory for numbers and periods of time, on the other hand, is often very
<pb n="5" xml:id="n5"/>
imprecise. For instance, most sources agree that Tangiia, who migrated to the island in the thirteenth century, was the son of Kaungaki, was adopted by his maternal uncle Pou te vananga roa, and had a protracted dispute with his crosscousin Tutapu. In fact, the particulars of their relationships and controversies are given in considerable detail, and all the available accounts agree on the most significant points; but details of the number of voyages he made vary from one to a dozen and of the number of his followers from eight to four hundred.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The art of writing was first taught in <date when="1824">1824</date>, but as matters of native custom were closely associated with heathen darkness little encouragement was given to the recording of affairs of the pre-Christian era until the arrival in <date when="1851">1851</date> of Wyatt Gill, a missionary ethnographer who took a passionate interest in pre-contact history and who during his thirty years of residence in the islands encouraged many men to record their knowledge of the old way of life.</p>
        <p rend="indent">One of the most important native manuscripts for far located is the four hundred page work of Maretu, an excannibal who became a pillar of the church. He made no abstractions or interpretations and simply recorded what he remembered; any relationships described are between particular people and thus, while they may not bear wide generalization, they do provide instances of actual behaviour. When such behaviour conforms to Maretu's expectations, which in all probability means that it conforms to custom, he makes no further comment; when it does not, he feels constrained to explain further or pass judgement. While he never quotes any principles of land tenure, he does describe incidents which illustrate particular principles in action.</p>
        <p rend="indent">While Maretu speaks almost exclusively of his own life-time, another Rarotongan, Terei by name, was a true historian
<pb n="6" xml:id="n6"/>
and his 25,000 word narrative begins with the disputes which arose in Tahiti, as a result of which his forbears migrated to Rarotonga about the thirteenth century. His description of the early political organization and of the original land divisions of the island is confirmed from many sources. Another major writer, Taraare, was probably the most prolific of all. He also begins with events of nearly a thousand years ago, and traces significant historical incidents from that time until the arrival of the mission. In addition to these main sources, over a hundred other manuscripts by more than a score of native authors have so far been located - dealing with mythology, with particular incidents, with the histories of particular families, and so on, in nearly every case containing particulars of some aspect of the pre-contact pattern of life.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The native records have the advantage of having been written by men who knew no other language and no other culture than their own.<note xml:id="ftn1-6" n="1"><p>These have all been studied in the vernacular, including the few which have been translated into English.</p></note> On the other hand they suffer from the defect of their selectivity and partiality, for all the authors were either titled men or pastors, and each had the responsibility of preserving his own family's good name. This defect was to some extent unavoidable, as responsibility for preserving and passing on traditional knowledge lay with the lineage heads, who were necessarily titled men, and most commoners probably knew little of such arcane affairs.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Thirdly we have for evidence the records of external observers, persons whose impressions were based not on participation but on observation, and invariably through eyes which saw the situation in terms of cultures which differed markedly from those of the natives. The only known landings
<pb n="7" xml:id="n7"/>
to have been made at Rarotonga prior to the arrival of the mission ship with the first Tahitian teachers in <date when="1823">1823</date> were from two trading schooners in <date when="1814">1814</date>. But from <date when="1827">1827</date> onwards European missionaries resided there permanently, and for the next thirty years they were the only foreigners to make any lengthy stay at the island.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The early missionaries left about eight published works which deal significantly with this island but as more unpublished material becomes available their relative importance as source material is diminishing. The letters, journals, and reports of the missionaries have, however, been preserved and are very useful sources; since almost every month each missionary sent a detailed report to his directors in London, a journal had to be prepared for every missionary voyage, and reports had to be submitted every year. Despite a natural emphasis on ecclesiastical affairs these documents cover a very wide range of subjects, often describing customs or giving the background to disputes.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The advantage of these mission records lies in their detailed nature and frequency of recording, which affords a fairly constant picture of the march of events. All the missionaries understood and worked exclusively in the local dialect and they participated in almost every aspect of the local life. On the debit side, however, is the fact that, like all other foreign observers, the missionaries saw through eyes which were conditioned by a different culture, and though they understood the native language, they probably did not understand a number of the concepts expressed in it.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Other foreign observers were traders, whalers, travellers and warship commanders; persons whose visits were generally brief and for specific purposes, and whose writings accordingly provide relatively little information beyond details of trade, crops grown, names of local notabilities, and
<pb n="8" xml:id="n8"/>
broad general descriptions of the people and their customs. Some of the later visitors, like Arundel, who first visited the island in <date when="1870">1870</date>, have left very detailed reports of the contemporary scene; while others, like Bourke, who annexed the island in <date when="1888">1888</date>, and Moss, who arrived as first Resident in <date when="1891">1891</date>, took the trouble to collect details of the land tenure system.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Fourth among the available sources are the results of such earlier researches as may provide information about various aspects of the pre-contact era. By far the most important collection in this category is that accumulated by the Land Court, which was established in <date when="1902">1902</date> and which during the next five years determined the title to almost every piece of land on the island. The court records now amount to more than 20,000 pages of evidence and decisions, including many claims which go back to the pre-contact era. Unfortunately the detailed evidence is not always given, and indeed in quite a number of cases the decision only is recorded, thus precluding analysis on a quantitative basis. Nevertheless, by preserving its records in excellent order, the Land Court has, to a notable degree, provided a unique repository of early historical information.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Our fifth source of evidence for pre-contact history lies in contemporary field-studies, which may provide some indications as to the nature of the system which existed earlier, for, despite many changes, there appears to have been a considerable degree of carry-over. Change takes place at different rates in different aspects of a culture, and land tenure is one of the aspects of Rarotongan culture in which change has come about much more slowly than in such fields as religion or education. A present-day survey by itself can give only the slightest indication of the tenure system in the 1820s, yet in conjunction with the other sources
<pb n="9" xml:id="n9"/>
mentioned it can not only give useful leads, but also at times give confirmatory evidence where the earlier sources are indicative but not conclusive. Also, present-day informants, while they do not know the pre-contact era at first hand, may well possess some traditional knowledge of pre-contact custom.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Finally, some inferences may be drawn from a knowledge of other tenure systems, particularly those in related groups of islands possessing a similar socio-political organization. These may give clues to correlations which may be sought, or show whether circumstantial probabilities are consistent with actualities elsewhere. Deductions made on this basis can only be in the nature of probabilities, but in some cases even these may be of relevance.</p>
        <p rend="indent">Each of the above sources has its inadequacies, but each helps to clarify the outlines of a situation which no longer exists; at least not in its pristine form.</p>
        <p rend="indent">The second part of the study is concerned with the effects of European contact on the tenure system during the nineteenth century. Here the records of the missionaries are the most detailed, though not necessarily the most objective; and they are supplemented by the reports, diaries and publications of naval and other marine officers, traders and travellers, as well as by the files of the British Colonial and Foreign Offices, the New Zealand Government and the Western Pacific High Commission. The evidence for this period, however, particularly in so far as it relates to competition for land, is heavily weighted in that it is generally concerned with expressing the viewpoint of the European and much less frequently with that of the Maori. There are, it is true, some records by Maoris, and some of the early records of the Land Court contain valuable evidence by Maoris, but the Land Court, too, was a European institution, and, in its early years at least, no less liable to prejudices
<pb n="10" xml:id="n10"/>
than other interested parties. For the most part, therefore, Maori attitudes and opinions during this era have to be deduced from non-Maori sources.</p>
        <p rend="indent">For the final section, which deals with administrative policies and their effects, a considerable amount of material was available from official files and records (including those of the Land Court), as well as from a field study carried out from March 1959 to May 1960. The first month was spent in New Zealand consulting the records of the Department of Island Territories, and material in the Alexander Turnbull Library, the Polynesian Society and the Auckland Institute Library. From April 1959 to January 1960 was spent in the Cook Islands, where detailed field surveys were carried out in the Tengatangi district of Atiu, the four contiguous tapere known as Turangi ma Nga Mataiapo at Ngatangiia on Rarotonga and on the island of Palmerston. At Rarotonga the relevant records of the Land Court and the central administration were also examined. The Department of Island Territories and the Cook Islands Administration generously gave unrestricted access to files and documents, but while these were studied in some detail I have refrained from referring to those which are not normally available to the public. January to May 1960 was spent in field studies in Tonga and Western Samoa, but time and the volume of material collected has precluded the inclusion of comparative data from these sources.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In some aspects, and in particular those relating to the effects of decisions of the Land Court on the functioning of the tenure system, the analysis is at times rather critical. This criticism is not intended to be negative, but it is felt that the existing situation cannot be adequately understood, nor can remedial action be effectively taken, unless the causal factors are clearly identified. Nevertheless, there
<pb n="11" xml:id="n11"/>
is always a temptation for one who looks on from the outside to drive the scalpel too deep, forgetting the fact that the analytic tools of today were not available to policy-makers in the islands earlier in the century. Likewise, it is easy for one who has no other function than to observe, compare and analyze, to be critical of the actions of those whose responsibility is to carry out a policy while isolated from information about comparable situations elsewhere, and while overburdened with a multiplicity of other duties which must be attended to. Theirs is indeed an invidious task.</p>
        <p rend="indent">In the final chapter an attempt is made to draw together the conclusions which arise from the study as a whole and to suggest some possible alternative approaches to the solution of the more serious problems thus brought to light.</p>
      </div>
    </front>
    <body xml:id="t1-body">
      <pb xml:id="n11a"/>
      <div type="part" xml:id="_N71143">
        <head><hi rend="c">Part One<lb/>
The Pre-Contact Land Tenure System of Rarotonga</hi></head>
        <pb n="12" xml:id="n12"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="1" xml:id="c1">
          <head>Chapter 2<lb/>
<hi rend="c">Historical Background</hi> - c. <date from="0875" to="1823">875 <hi rend="c">to</hi> 1823</date> A.D.</head>
          <div type="section" xml:id="c1-0">
            <p rend="indent">This period of nearly a thousand years covers the whole span of Rarotongan history from the inception of human settlement about 875 A.D. until the arrival of European missionaries in the year <date when="1823">1823</date>. The only cultural influences throughout came from contact with members of the Polynesian race and such cultural changes as took place were therefore either the result of purely local developments or else of influences emanating from other parts of Polynesia; this being in marked contrast to the period which followed, in which the main changes resulted from contact with an entirely different culture.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In the present chapter an attempt will be made to reconstruct, from the various accounts of Rarotonga's precontact history, as consistent a picture of the march of events as the evidence will permit. Clearly the sources speak only from tradition, except for the decades immediately preceding <date when="1823">1823</date>, for there could be no contemporary documentation until the art of writing had been introduced. Nevertheless, despite a considerable diversity of detail, there still remains a marked degree of agreement on the salient historical landmarks.<note xml:id="ftn1-12" n="1"><p>The following works were consulted in connection with the pre-European history of the island: Best, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 36:122–34; Buck, <hi rend="u">Vikings of the Sunrise</hi> 112–16, <hi rend="u">Arts &amp; Crafts of the Cook Islands</hi> 11–13; Cowan (Tau Puru Ariki), <hi rend="u">Tumu Korero</hi> 1:9–11, 2:4–7, 6:2–4 + 13–14, 9:4–9, 10:5–9; Fraser, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 6:72–3; Gill, Wm., <hi rend="u">Gems from the Coral Islands</hi> 2:3–4; Gill, Wyatt, <hi rend="u">JRAI</hi> 6:2–8, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 627–36; Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 12:51–61 + 120–30; Itio MS; Kiva, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 6:1–6; Manuiri, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 5:142–4; Matatia, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 4:99–131; Maretu, MS; More, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 19:142–68; Native Land Court files; Nicholas (translator), <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 1:20–29; Numa, MS; Pitman, Journal, passim; <name key="name-036062" type="organisation">Polynesian Society</name>, Collection of vernacular MS – largely anonymous; Putua, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 6:6–10; Savage, ‘Iro Nui Ma Oata’, Smith, <hi rend="u">Hawaiki</hi> passim, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 12:218–20 and 16:175–88; Tama, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 15:209–19; Taraare, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 8:61–88 + 171–8, 28:183–208, 29:1–19 + 45–69 + 107–27, 30:129–41, also MS; Ta'unga, MS; Toarua, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:139–43; Teaia, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 2:271–9; Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi>, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 26:1–18 + 45–65; Vakapora, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:215–18; Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands</hi> passim; Williamson, <hi rend="u">The Social and Political Systems of Central Polynesia</hi> 1:263–82.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <pb n="13" xml:id="n13"/>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c1-1">
            <head>Early settlement</head>
            <p rend="indent">While excavation and radio-carbon dating may eventually reveal a relatively precise date for the initial colonization of the island, we are dependent for the present on traditional accounts. These record the arrival of various immigrant canoes, with subsequent settlement and wars, and the building of a road round the island, all long before the arrival of the voyager Tangiia about the year 1200 A.D.<note xml:id="ftn1-13" n="1"><p>Smith, on the basis of genealogical evidence, gives the year 875 A.D. as the nearest estimate of the date of first settlement. - <hi rend="u">Hawaiki</hi> 208.</p></note> In particular the road, which is about 15 miles long and paved for most of its length, is said to have been constructed under the direction of Toi, who lived about 1050 A.D.; and it suggests the existence of a considerable population even at that relatively early period.<note xml:id="ftn2-13" n="2"><p>A full discussion of the known history of Toi is given by Smith, who concludes that the road was built about six generations before the arrival of Tangiia. - <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 16:175–88. Fletcher, in a more recent survey, puts the time of Toi over a hundred years before Smith's estimate. - <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 39:315–21.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Early records often refer to these first settlers as the ‘Mana'une’ or ‘Tangata enua’ (people of the land), but there is no evidence to indicate that they were other than Polynesians. The first of them landed at the harbour now known as Ngatangiia and established themselves in the nearby Avana valley. It is from these people that the Kainuku line of chiefs trace their descent. Most records show them as having come from the island of Iva in what is now French
<pb n="14" xml:id="n14"/>
<pb n="15" xml:id="n15"/>
Polynesia.<note xml:id="ftn1-15" n="1"><p>Iva is variously described as Nukuhiva (e.g. by Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 629), as Hiva'oa (e.g. in <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 2:271), or as a place name in Raiatea (e.g. in <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 6:9). However, all these islands are part of what is now French Polynesia. Indigenous writers do not attempt to give the location of the island of Iva.</p></note> Nothing is known of their land-holding system, except that by discovery and settlement the land was theirs; but discovery and settlement, the primary claims to land in the group, had to be reinforced by the ability to defend them from aggressors. Several other immigrant canoes arrived during the succeeding generations and wars ensued.<note xml:id="ftn2-15" n="2"><p>Some of the later immigrants also came from Iva, and others from a place called Atu-apai. The latter place is believed by some to be Haapai in the Tonga Group, but as most of this party was wiped out in battle their point of origin is not important.</p></note> These conflicts resulted in some migrations away from the island, but the Kainuku party were among the victors who remained.</p>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f002">
                <graphic url="CroLan-002.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f002-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="c">Rarotonga<lb/>
Major Cultural and Physical Features</hi>
                </head>
              </figure>
            </p>
            <p rend="indent">The traditional evidence available then indicates that at the close of this phase the island was populated by people who traced their origin from Iva - somewhere in Eastern Polynesia. The land was now held by conquest, and throughout the pre-European period rights held by conquest superseded all other rights in land.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The second phase opened with the arrival of two independent parties of settlers, towards the end of the twelfth century. The one party, led by Tangiia, came from the island of Raiatea in the Society Group.<note xml:id="ftn3-15" n="3"><p>All sources except two agree that Tangiia came from the <name key="name-032033" type="place">Society Islands</name>. The two exceptions (Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 6–8 and a translation by Stair from a Rarotongan missionary's account in <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 4:99–131) show Tangiia as having come originally from Upolu and thence having travelled to <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>, whence he proceeded to Rarotonga. While they assumed Upolu to have been the island of that name in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>, Leverd notes that Upolu was the ancient name of the island of Taha'a in the Society Group. - <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 19:176.</p></note> The other came from the island of Manu'a in the Samoa Group under the leadership of a chief named Karika.<note xml:id="ftn4-15" n="4"><p>All sources give Manu'a as Karika's island of origin.</p></note> They are the best known of the
<pb n="16" xml:id="n16"/>
progenitors of the present population of the island, and in all probability every Rarotongan of today is descended from one or both of them - and some can in fact trace that descent.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While all accounts indicate that the two parties arrived at about the same time, some claim that Tangiia was the first to arrive and others that Karika was. Similarly, while all accounts show them to have been on amicable terms, some claim that Tangiia's was the paramount or most influential party, and others that the supremacy lay with Karika's party. It all depends on whether the author of the account concerned identified himself with the one party or the other.<note xml:id="ftn1-16" n="1"><p>An analysis of the various accounts shows that those written by or collected from descendants of Tangiia claim that he was paramount. Reports from Karika's descendants, on the other hand, show him in this role. The various accounts, nevertheless, agree on many significant points. Gilson has aptly noted that ‘this unwritten history was a flexible instrument subject to wide variation in order to rationalise partisan claims and de facto political situations’.-‘Administration of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>’ 22.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The number of persons in each party can only be a matter of conjecture for while some traditions do not comment on number, others give varying numbers up to a maximum of 400 in Tangiia's party, and 140 in Karika's. Likewise, the sexual composition of Tangiia's party is in doubt. Some claim that he brought his womenfolk with him, others that it was a canoe-load of warriors only. All agree, however, that Karika did bring at least one woman, a daughter, whom Tangiia took to wife.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Perhaps the strongest force unifying the two groups was the necessity for defence, for shortly after their arrival on the island Tutapu arrived in pursuit of Tangiia with whom he had a long-standing quarrel. Tangiia sought the aid of Karika's party to repulse the invaders, who were subsequently killed to a man. After Tutapu, other canoes arrived from
<pb n="17" xml:id="n17"/>
time to time, and, while in some cases their occupants were attacked and killed, in others they were absorbed into the society.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The subsequent history of the island can be more easily followed if we deal separately with each of the three tribes which were in existence in the year <date when="1823">1823</date>, tracing the development of each from these early forbears.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c1-2">
            <head>Takitumu: the tribe of Tangiia</head>
            <p rend="indent">Takitumu was the name of Tangiia's canoe and this name was applied both to the tribe which traces its descent from men who travelled to Rarotonga in that canoe, and to the district which they occupy. Though he was from a chiefly family, Tangiia was not himself a man of high rank. No tradition records his relationship to other members of his party, though some refer to them vaguely as his kopu tangata (cognatic kinsmen). The only exceptions to this generalization are Pa and Tinomana. Pa was adopted by Tangiia, but was a son of the renowned Tahitian chief Iro. Being of such high rank, Pa was later made titular head of the Tangiia tribe and it is through him that the Pa Ariki line of high chiefs trace their descent. Tinomana, of whom more details will be given later, was the son of Tangiia.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The other line of high chiefs of the Takitumu tribe today is that of Kainuku Ariki. The Kainuku people trace their descent from those early settlers who were living on the island at the time of Tangiia's arrival and who formed an alliance with Tangiia's people. Whether or not this union was preceded by conflict or threat of conflict is not known though the resident party were given only a minority role in the affairs of the group.<note xml:id="ftn1-17" n="1"><p>Te Aia says that Tangiia was on friendly terms with the people already established on the island, ‘and made them his own people, and he assumed to himself and his children the position of ariki over all the mataiapo of Tongaiti… so that he had everyone under him, including his own mataiapo’. (Tongaiti is the name frequently given to the party in occupation of the land at the time of Tangiia's arrival.) - Te Aia, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 2:275. It will be noted, however, that the leaders of the Tongaiti party were given the status of mataiapo (i.e. semi-independent chiefs), though of the total number of these titles created the Tongaiti received only a small proportion.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="18" xml:id="n18"/>
            <p rend="indent">Though closely linked with the Tangiia people by marriage, Kainuku's party has retained its separate lands and separate identity. At the time of arrival of the missionaries, and apparently for some time before, Pa and Kainuku were joint chiefs of the tribe. They remain so to this day. In parochial affairs Pa generally takes responsibility for the eastern section, and Kainuku the southern section. Pa's people are the more numerous, however, and in matters concerning the whole tribe Pa often acts as sole spokesman. Despite this tendency for Pa to be deferred to as the more influential, both are high chiefs of the same rank.<note xml:id="ftn1-18" n="1"><p>Kainuku is today (and has been for many generations past) an ariki title, but I can find no reference to its being of this status in Tangiia's time.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Some or all of Tangiia's men were elevated to the rank of mataiapo (chief) and each was allotted a block of land running from the mountain to the coast. These blocks, known as tapere, are the most important land divisions on the island. Each mataiapo settled with his family on the tapere lands and formed the nucleus of a new settlement.<note xml:id="ftn2-18" n="2"><p>Nicholas (translator), <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 1:23.</p></note> The descent group which derived from each of these original chiefs became the focus of land-holding within the tapere. While owing allegiance to one or other of the high chiefs, the mataiapo enjoyed a considerable degree of independence.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While tradition states that this land division occurred shortly after Tangiia's arrival, it seems unlikely that each of the men could have established a viable unit so soon. It
<pb n="19" xml:id="n19"/>
is more probable, therefore, that this phase did not occur until after the new arrivals had settled down and begun to expand in numbers, for all are said to have come in one canoe. They may have chosen wives from the earlier inhabitants or, alternatively, more migrants could have been brought from Raiatea, for some traditions record return visits to that island.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Each mataiapo had his own marae,<note xml:id="ftn1-19" n="1"><p>A sacred ground enclosed by low stone walls in which ceremonies of a religious nature took place.</p></note> which was located within the tapere near the place of settlement. By the time of first European contact some mataiapo had two or three marae,<note xml:id="ftn2-19" n="2"><p>Maretu, MS 33–59.</p></note> but it is assumed that this was the result of later developments. Each high priest (ta'unga) likewise had his marae and also a tapere of land for, in his non-priestly functions, his role was the same as that of a mataiapo.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Early in the period of settlement the title of komono was created, one holder being appointed by each mataiapo as his spokesman and deputy. Komono (which may be translated literally as ‘deputy’) probably began as the name given to the person who was next in seniority to the mataiapo, but in time it became an hereditary title under the mataiapo.<note xml:id="ftn3-19" n="3"><p>One account states that komono were appointed at the same time as the mataiapo, but this is the only tradition which mentions komono at that early date. - Nicholas, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 1:23.</p></note> Also below the mataiapo in the rank hierarchy were the rangatira, and though it is not clear just at what stage this title began to be bestowed, it appears in the tradition later than that of komono. By the time of first European contact each ariki had up to a dozen or more rangatira, and most mataiapo had several. The original rangatira are said to have been the younger brothers of the early ariki and
<pb n="20" xml:id="n20"/>
mataiapo, and were given this title when they established separate units within the tapere.<note xml:id="ftn1-20" n="1"><p>Savage, ‘Dictionary of the Rarotongan Language’. The creation of four rangatira titles in Avarua by promotion of the younger brothers of the ariki is described in MB 1:319 NLC. This instance would have occurred circa <date when="1790">1790</date>.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c1-3">
            <head>Karika's tribe: Te Au o <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name> or Avarua</head>
            <p rend="indent">The tribe which traces its descent from Karika was known as ‘Te Au o <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>’ and this name was likewise applied to the district they occupied. In recent years the name has fallen into disuse to be superseded by the name Avarua, and this latter name will be used throughout. The evidence is not clear as to when this tribe became established, or just when Avarua became recognized as a separate district. It was Tangiia who organized the division of the whole island into tapere and was responsible for the allocation of the lands, and he, too, organized the building of the marae at intervals around the island and the appointment of chiefs to take charge of each of them. High priests were chosen for each of the two parties:<note xml:id="ftn2-20" n="2"><p>The criteria of selection of the priests is not given in any account. Quite possibly they were from priestly families in their islands of origin.</p></note> five for Tangiia's party, and one for Karika's, though at a much later stage one of Tangiia's high priests (Potikitaua) transferred his allegiance to the Karika party.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Karika himself and some of his followers left the island after some years of residence and set sail for Iva, never to return. However, not all his party left, and those who did not maintained marriage connections with the people of Tangiia.<note xml:id="ftn3-20" n="3"><p>Traditions record that some men of Tangiia's party also voluntarily joined the Karika faction.</p></note> The direct line from Karika was preserved on the island by a man with the title name of Makea who is variously described as a son of Karika or as a grandson of Karika born of the union of Tangiia with Karika's daughter.</p>
            <pb n="21" xml:id="n21"/>
            <p rend="indent">By the time of arrival of the first Europeans the Tangiia and Karika parties were politically separate entities, and Makea was the ariki title of the Avarua district, but this division was of relatively recent origin. In the eighteenth century the Makea title was divided into three branches.<note xml:id="ftn1-21" n="1"><p>Known as the Makea Nui (or Makea Pini), Makea Karika, and Makea Vakatini respectively.</p></note> This division occurred as a result of the then title-holder elevating the eldest son of each of his three wives to the rank of ariki. Though all were of equal rank, the Makea Nui Ariki has since the period immediately preceding the arrival of the gospel exerted greater political influence than either of the other two.<note xml:id="ftn2-21" n="2"><p>‘The custom has always obtained in Te au o <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name> that whilst both kings enjoyed regal honours, only one wielded authority, wielding it, however, in the name of both Makeas.’ - Gill, AAAS 628. Gill's reference to only two holders of the title at this time was due to the fact that the Vakatini title was then in eclipse and did not emerge again as a recognized ariki title until later in the century. Pitman, the first European to reside on the island, refers in his Journal to Makea Nui as the only ariki in Avarua. As he had considerable dealings with the people and records many meetings which Makea attended, it is apparent that the Makea Nui (whose personal name was Pori) was paramount at this time. There is ample evidence to indicate that the Makea Nui title has in fact been paramount since pre-contact times.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The title of mataiapo was not used in this district, nor, consequently, was that of komono.<note xml:id="ftn3-21" n="3"><p>There are seven mataiapo in this district today, but these broke away from the Takitumu district after the arrival of the mission.</p></note> The next rank below the ariki was that of rangatira, who, though generally appointed from the junior ranks of the ariki family, were occasionally chosen from right outside the family group.<note xml:id="ftn4-21" n="4"><p>For example, two of the leaders of the Uritaua party which landed in Rarotonga about <date when="1600">1600</date> A.D. were later made rangatira by Makea. - MB 5:119 NLC. Savage says that although normally selected from the younger branches of the ariki and mataiapo families, ‘the ariki or mataiapo has the right to appoint any person who is not a member of the family as a rangatira for some particular service’. - ‘Dictionary….’</p></note> The rangatira do not trace back to a member of Karika's canoe, but rather
<pb n="22" xml:id="n22"/>
to Karika himself through some holder of the Makea Ariki title. The territorial subdivisions of this district were also called tapere and, in contrast to the general pattern, some of the lesser of them were headed by rangatira. The information available as to the circumstances of the origin of these tapere is inadequate, though it appears that they, too, had once been headed by ariki or mataiapo, but subsequently allocated to the rangatira of later conquerors.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There is considerable evidence to suggest that, by <date when="1823">1823</date> at least, the holder of the Makea title exerted much greater political influence over his tribe than did either Pa or Kainuku over theirs. Likewise, it appears that Makea had much greater influence over land matters within his tribe than did any other ariki on the island, but, as this question has been a matter of some controversy, it is necessary to enumerate the reasons for this opinion. While the power of the ariki of Takitumu was diffused by the existence of mataiapo and komono, that of the Avarua ariki was not. Each mataiapo had his own marae as well as his own lands and as there were about thirty mataiapo in the Takitumu district, they constituted a very powerful political group. There was no equivalent restraint on the Makeas.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While a wide range of terminology is used to describe the situation, the following sources give an indication of the relative status of the mataiapo of Takitumu and the rangatira of Avarua (who were, of course, next in line to the ariki in this district). Moss considers the mataiapo to have been the most powerful class on the island, who in a large measure controlled the actions of the ariki. Rangatira, on the other hand, he regarded as tenants at will under the ariki or mataiapo, whom Moss considered to have been the landowners.<note xml:id="ftn1-22" n="1"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">Fortnightly Review</hi> 54:778. He, nevertheless, says that they were ‘irremovable, by time-honoured custom, so long as the due services [were] performed’.</p></note> Williams describes mataiapo as
<pb n="23" xml:id="n23"/>
‘governors’ and rangatira as ‘landholders’.<note xml:id="ftn1-23" n="1"><p>Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative</hi>… 216.</p></note> William Gill describes the Avarua tribe as being ‘governed by the Makea family’, but the Takitumu tribe as ‘a confederate body of independent landholders’.<note xml:id="ftn2-23" n="2"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 4.</p></note> He classes the mataiapo as ‘independent landholders’ and the rangatira as ‘dependent tenantry, having certain privileges which distinguished them from the mass of common people’.<note xml:id="ftn3-23" n="3"><p>Ibid. 12.</p></note> In <date when="1869">1869</date>, when the London Missionary Society obtained written deeds confirming the grants of land earlier given to their missions, it was the mataiapo who ceded the land in Titikaveka, Matavera and Ngatangiia.<note xml:id="ftn4-23" n="4"><p>All places within Takitumu district.</p></note> In Avarua, on the other hand, it was done by the ariki.<note xml:id="ftn5-23" n="5"><p>L.H. Trenn - personal notes.</p></note> As the Avarua district was only about one quarter of the area of Takitumu, and as the population was less than half,<note xml:id="ftn6-23" n="6"><p>Details of population are given on <ref type="page" target="#n45">page 45</ref>.</p></note> it would be more feasible for the ariki in the former district to wield direct authority.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The origin of the different political structures (and consequently the landholding systems) may alternatively be sought in the respective Tahitian and Samoan origins of the two groups. However, the evidence indicates that the Samoan immigrants contributed but little to the culture of Rarotonga as it was at the time of first European contact. As some authors stress the Samoan connections of the Karika party beyond the point which the available evidence can support, the issue requires some elaboration.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Firstly, the language of Rarotonga is derived from and closely related to that of <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>, whereas it shows
<pb n="24" xml:id="n24"/>
comparatively little connection with that of <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>.<note xml:id="ftn1-24" n="1"><p>Elbert, <hi rend="u">South-Western Journal of Anthropology</hi> 9:147–73.</p></note> Secondly, according to Burrow's list of culture traits which differentiate Western Polynesia (which includes <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>) from Central-Marginal Polynesia (which includes both Rarotonga and <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>), Rarotonga shows a high correlation with the latter and a very low correlation with the former.<note xml:id="ftn2-24" n="2"><p>These are tabulated and discussed by Vayda in <hi rend="u">American Anthropologist</hi> 61:817–28. See also Burrows, <hi rend="u">Etnologiska Studier</hi> 7:1–192. Buck, in a table showing diffusion of culture traits within Polynesia, shows that the six listed traits which apply to Rarotonga all apply identically to the Austral Islands, and with one exception to <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>. Not one applies to <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>. - Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 487. On page 525 of the same work Buck presents a chart of cultural derivation of various islands, which shows <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> society as a direct derivative of the <name key="name-032033" type="place">Society Islands</name>, and bearing no close relationship to <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>.</p></note> Thirdly, traditions almost invariably speak of Tangiia's party as being more numerous than Karika's, and the activities undertaken by Tangiia's party support this.<note xml:id="ftn3-24" n="3"><p>Many references are made to there being eight or nine named subgroups within Tangiia's party, to the many warriors who accompanied him and later became mataiapo, and to the numerous marae they constructed. None of the traditions mention the names of any of Karika's party with the exception of a daughter and a son. This does not necessarily indicate that their numbers were few, as Karika and some of his party left the island and never returned, and thus the Karika traditions may have been less well recorded. However, this would only tend to substantiate the point that their long-term influence on the culture was inconsequential.</p></note> Fourthly, the previous inhabitants of the island, who also trace their origin to Eastern Polynesia, joined themselves to Tangiia's group. Fifthly, some of Tangiia's men joined Karika's party, and there is some doubt as to whether the original Makea was the son of Karika or his grandson by Tangiia from Karika's daughter. Finally, after some years of residence, Karika himself and some of his followers left the island and never returned.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The different authority structure and the different degree of power wielded by the Makea ariki as opposed to other ariki on the island can best be understood by viewing
<pb n="25" xml:id="n25"/>
the Avarua district as an overgrown tapere. In the initial land division each ariki and mataiapo was given a tapere of land, usually comprising a valley in the mountains and the flat land which fronted the valley. By the time of first European contact the Makea Ariki was dominant over the Takuvaine and Avatiu valleys, though it is apparent that this had not always been the case and that this status had been achieved after many generations of settlement by two other ariki whose tribes had subsequently been conquered and driven out.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Most of the larger and more fertile tapere were also the seats of particular ariki, and were on the whole much more populous than the tapere of the mataiapo,<note xml:id="ftn1-25" n="1"><p>Apart from their much greater area and agricultural potential, the remains of large (but now abandoned) terraced taro patches in these valleys suggest that they did carry larger populations.</p></note> and within each of them an authority structure based on the creation of rangatira titles was built up under the ariki. In the case of Pa and Kainuku these authority structures were contained within the original valley, but in the case of the Makea people authority was acquired over the contiguous tapere as well and these were incorporated within the existing authority structure.<note xml:id="ftn2-25" n="2"><p>The Avatiu valley was left in the hands of the Uritaua, an immigrant group whose leaders were made rangatira under Makea. Control was acquired over the Ngatipa tapere when its chief, unable to control internal dissension in his lineage, handed over his authority to the Makeas. How they acquired control of the area between Avatiu and the boundary of Arorangi is not known, though this is the poorest land on the island and it is doubtful if it ever supported much population. The district of Tupapa did not join the Makea party until just after the arrival of the first Tahitian missionaries.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The support of the three most powerful groups within the Avarua area was maintained by the high chief taking a high-ranking wife from each of them, and creating the eldest son from each wife as an ariki. This triple arikiship was,
<pb n="26" xml:id="n26"/>
theoretically at least, an unstable compromise which could hardly have been expected to last, and within a generation one of the titles was in eclipse. By the next generation thereafter, however, the mission arrived and the existing situation was crystallized and has remained with little change since.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c1-4">
            <head>Arorangi: the tribe that broke away</head>
            <p rend="indent">There is only one ariki title in this district, namely that of Tinomana. While of the same rank as other ariki, the Tinomana title seems never to have achieved the eminence of either Pa or Makea. Tinomana is stated by some authorities to be descended from Tangiia, but from a marriage prior to that with Karika's daughter, and by others to be a direct descendant in the male line from Karika.<note xml:id="ftn1-26" n="1"><p>In view of the intermarriage between the chiefly lines it is quite possible that he was in fact a direct descendant of both founding ancestors. Alternatively, the truth may lie in the explanation of one authority to the effect that Rongooe (the first holder of the Tinomana title to break away) was a son of Makea te Ratu, but that between the time of his conception and his birth his mother lived with the then holder of the Tinomana title. - Te Aia, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 2:276.</p></note> The Tinomanas themselves follow the first alternative, tracing through Motoro, a son of Tangiia, who was not born in Rarotonga, but came to the island as a young man. A close link with the Makeas is, however, postulated by the fact that at least some holders of the Tinomana title were officially elevated to office and also buried in Avarua.<note xml:id="ftn2-26" n="2"><p>Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi>, part 8.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">All sources agree that Rongooe, the progenitor of this line in Arorangi, was banished in the fifteenth century for his despotism, and fled to the western part of the island (which appears to have been considered a haven for refugees) where he later became accepted as ariki. Though the process by which he achieved ascendancy is not known, we do know
<pb n="27" xml:id="n27"/>
that by the time of arrival of the first Europeans (and in all probability for many generations before) a contiguous group of nine tapere on the western side of the island were affiliated under the arikiship of the Tinomanas - the descendants of Rongooe. Jointly they constituted the district of Puaikura but as this district is known today as Arorangi, it will be referred to throughout by this latter name.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1823">1823</date> Arorangi had the smallest land area of the three districts, and its population is said to have been reduced from a former higher level, due to a series of defeats in battle after which the survivors had lived for a considerable period in the mountain area to avoid complete extermination.<note xml:id="ftn1-27" n="1"><p>They were still living in the mountains when the first missionaries arrived.</p></note> These considerations help to explain the relative lack of traditional history of this tribe.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="5" xml:id="c1-5">
            <head>Relations between the tribes</head>
            <p rend="indent">After the defeat of the invaders from <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> by Tangiia and Karika, there followed ten generations of relative peace.<note xml:id="ftn2-27" n="2"><p>The traditions claim that Tangiia ‘outlawed’ war - e.g. Toarua, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:140. It may be claimed that the description of this period as one of peace merely reflects ignorance of what actually did go on, but as wars are recorded both before and after, it seems reasonable to assume that no major conflict took place during the period.</p></note> In the tenth generation the notorious chief Rongooe (who founded the Arorangi district) arose and ‘commenced the killing of men … and likewise the eating of them; then began evils and troubles in the land’.<note xml:id="ftn3-27" n="3"><p>Te Aia, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 2:275.</p></note> Spasmodic warfare continued thereafter until the arrival of the mission some thirteen generations later. The ten generations of relative peace no doubt resulted in considerable population expansion, and it may well have been that the consequent pressure on the
<pb n="28" xml:id="n28"/>
island's resources was a factor in initiating and perpetuating the later conflicts.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The more important wars are recorded in the traditional histories, and though accounts of the less spectacular battles have never been assembled together, the fact of their occurrence is confirmed by many individual family histories, and by evidence given in the Land Court. Mission and mission-influenced reports, however, tend to over-emphasize the extent of warfare and the related evils of ‘heathen darkness’.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Missionaries and other early European writers often convey the impression (in their published works at least) of an island permanently divided into hostile tribes whose only contact was in war.<note xml:id="ftn1-28" n="1"><p>E.g. ‘… so general and constant were the enmity and jealousy of one tribe toward another, that the majority of the people were confined to the range of district where they were born, only hearing vague reports, but knowing little definitely, respecting the tribes beyond them.’ - Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 12.</p></note> This view has become widely accepted by later Europeans, including some Land Court judges, and it is accordingly necessary to determine as far as possible the nature and occasions of inter-tribal contact.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Indications of some degree of movement are suggested firstly by the existence of a well maintained inland road which ran right round the island about half a mile from the coast. Secondly, many accounts refer to members of various tribes, and even the whole island, assembling for the offering of first fruits and certain other ceremonial activities.<note xml:id="ftn2-28" n="2"><p>E.g. Taraare, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 30:140; Maretu, MS 21.</p></note> Thirdly, it was customary for ariki to participate in the installations of ariki of other districts.<note xml:id="ftn3-28" n="3"><p>Details of the installation of Makea Pori Ariki by Kainuku Ariki and Pa Ariki are given by Maretu. - MS 29. Terei describes the installation of Tinomana in the district of the Makeas. He notes in another connection that once installed to office an ariki was sometimes carried right round the island. - Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi>, 46 and 31.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="29" xml:id="n29"/>
            <p rend="indent">Fourthly, there was intermarriage between districts, with concomitant obligations and subsequent blood ties linking the families concerned.<note xml:id="ftn1-29" n="1"><p>E.g. the visit of an Avarua rangatira to his brother-in-law in Arorangi is described in detail in PSI 76; Maretu describes Makea as withdrawing from a successful attack on Arorangi when he saw a close relative among the Arorangi party. - Maretu, MS. For the birth of a high-ranking child ‘all the principal people in the whole land bring cloth, not this district only, but the whole land…’. - Pitman, Journal 9.11.<date when="1829">1829</date>. Instances of banished persons seeking asylum with relatives in other districts are legion.</p></note> Whether as a result of interdistrict marriages or not, there were pre-contact examples of persons living in one district and having land rights in another.<note xml:id="ftn2-29" n="2"><p>Maretu refers to the land of the Makeas on the south side of the island - MS 162; Buzacott refers to claims by several Avarua people to land in the Takitumu district - Buzacott to LMS ‘early <date when="1830">1830</date>’ SSL. The mataiapo of Rangiatea (part of Takitumu) claimed a piece of land at Nikao (in the Avarua district) on the basis of pre-contact incidents - MB 22:343 NLC. These are admittedly atypical cases, and the number of them was relatively few.</p></note> Fifthly, there is an indigenous term ‘ui ariki’, which, while commonly used today as a simple plural of ariki, strictly means ‘the assembled ariki’ - i.e. as a functional group rather than as an agglomeration.<note xml:id="ftn3-29" n="3"><p>The significance of this term as an index of interaction between tribes was first pointed out to me by Judge Morgan. Its relevance is supported by the fact that at Arai-te-<name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, the chiefly court of the Makeas, elders can still identify the named seating stones, each of which was specifically set aside for one or other of the ariki of the other tribes on the island.</p></note> Finally, one finds in the writings of indigenous authors such comments as the following: ‘The island then lived in peace… and the people moved freely between all the districts.’<note xml:id="ftn4-29" n="4"><p>Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 37.</p></note> Admittedly this passage is sandwiched between others which describe sanguinary battles, but the picture drawn is one of considerable intervals of peace during which relatively free movement was possible and usual.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Warfare, which was not uncommon, would be the major factor inhibiting freedom of movement. Another danger
<pb n="30" xml:id="n30"/>
against which precaution was probably necessary was that of being attacked in retaliation for a grievance against a relative. A system of tattoo marks acted as a reminder of vengeance to be exacted, not necessarily on the offender himself, but equally satisfactorily on one of his issue or other relatives. This no doubt added an element of risk to travelling alone and probably accounts for the fact that most inter-tribal visits recorded involve groups of people in the company of a chief.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="31" xml:id="n31"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="2" xml:id="c2">
          <head>Chapter 3<lb/>
<hi rend="c">Social Organization</hi></head>
          <div type="section" xml:id="c2-0">
            <p rend="indent">The system of social organization which developed over the centuries on Rarotonga was based on a pattern that was brought from Eastern Polynesia but was modified in the course of time in response to local environmental and demographic circumstances.<note xml:id="ftn1-31" n="1"><p>A schematic representation of certain elements of the indigenous social structure is given in the <ref type="figure" target="#CroLan-f003">diagram</ref> on <ref type="page" target="#n32">page 32</ref>.</p></note> The following description summarizes the elements of the social system as it was at the time of first European contact, but does not attempt to trace the process by which the system evolved from its Tahitian prototype.<note xml:id="ftn2-31" n="2"><p>While current archaeological and ethnohistorical research such as that of Green and Oliver and others is throwing more light on the form of this prototype, its exact nature is still being studied.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c2-1">
            <head>The tribe (vaka)</head>
            <p rend="indent">While larger units were at times formed for warfare and other ad hoc purposes, and there were some ceremonial occasions on which all the people of the island assembled together, the tribe was the largest social group coming under long-term unitary leadership.<note xml:id="ftn3-31" n="3"><p>Gilson argues that these units were sub-tribes rather than tribes and that the whole island constituted a single tribe. However, as the three sections functioned generally as separate units, it has been found more convenient to refer to them as tribes. - ‘Administration…’ 19.</p></note> In conception it was composed of all those who traced their descent from persons who had travelled to the island on the same canoe.<note xml:id="ftn4-31" n="4"><p>The term ‘vaka’ means canoe as well as tribe.</p></note> The rigidity of interpretation of the term vaka as a social unit was modified over time, such that a group absorbed into a
<pb n="32" xml:id="n32"/>
<pb n="33" xml:id="n33"/>
tribe became referred to as part of the vaka. For instance, though Kainuku Ariki traces his descent from people who lived on the island in the pre-Tangiia period, he and his followers allied themselves with the Tangiia people and became figuratively a part of the vaka of Takitumu. Again, while Arorangi originated as a segment which broke away from the other tribes, it is nevertheless referred to as a vaka (under its ancient name of Puaikura). The people of Avatiu, a segment of Avarua, migrated to the island about <date when="1600">1600</date> A.D., and while they are generally accepted on formal occasions as forming part of the vaka of Makea, they at times assert their independence on the grounds that, having come by a separate canoe, they constitute a separate vaka of people.<note xml:id="ftn1-33" n="1"><p>E.g. Patu Tita in evidence. - MB 19:167 NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f003">
                <graphic url="CroLan-003.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f003-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="u">
                    <hi rend="c">Ideal Structure of a Rarotongan Tribe</hi>
                  </hi>
                </head>
              </figure>
              <note>
                <p>
                  <hi rend="u">Note:</hi>
                  <list type="simple">
                    <label>1.</label>
                    <item>
                      <p>The head of each group was also the head of one of each of the groups below him, e.g. the ariki was head of his own nuclear family, of his own household, of his own major and minor lineages, as well as being leader of the tribe as a while.</p>
                    </item>
                    <label>2.</label>
                    <item>
                      <p>Specialists (e.g. priests, tattoo experts, fishing masters) occurred at the levels of chief of major and minor lineages</p>
                    </item>
                  </list>
                </p>
              </note>
            </p>
            <p rend="indent">Titular headship of the tribe was vested in the ariki who, due to their descent from the gods and their super-natural powers, were treated with great veneration.<note xml:id="ftn2-33" n="2"><p>Gill noted that a commoner would not look Make a in the face ‘lest the regal glance should devour [him]’. - <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 629. Heirs to the ariki title invariably had several wet nurses. - Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 515. The sacred nature of the head of an ariki is indicated in Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 46–7.</p></note> Ariki were descended from founding ancestors, ideally in the direct male line, though the extent to which this ideal was achieved can only be a matter of conjecture, for while the recorded genealogies usually show descent as being from father to son this was not always in fact the case. The number of titles of the ariki class seems to have fluctuated from time to time. For example, until Makea Te Pa Atua Kino conferred the title of ariki on the eldest son of each of his three wives, there was only one ariki title in the Make a line. However, within two generations of his doing this, one of the titles (that of Vakatini) was sufficiently inactive to go unnoticed by Williams, Buzacott, Gill and other early
<pb n="34" xml:id="n34"/>
writers who lived in that very district in close contact with the chiefs; and Maretu, himself a Rarotongan, does not include Vakatini in his list of recognized ariki on the island at the time of the introduction of the gospel.<note xml:id="ftn1-34" n="1"><p>Since that time, however, this title has again regained ariki status.</p></note> Terei speaks of a time when there were seven ariki in Avarua alone, and of another period when there were none.<note xml:id="ftn2-34" n="2"><p>Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 28–9. Numa also refers to seven ariki at a time prior to the division of the Makea title. - MS 14.</p></note> Again there are instances of titles which were once rated as ariki, but are now regarded as mataiapo.<note xml:id="ftn3-34" n="3"><p>E.g. Tamaariki and Kaena. - MB 1:114 and 199 NLC.</p></note> Maretu claims that only ariki could make wars but there is ample evidence to show that intratribal skirmishes took place in which the ariki was not involved, and though ariki were involved in wars between tribes, none of the records speak of them engaging in actual combat.<note xml:id="ftn4-34" n="4"><p>Maretu, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:201. It is possible that war (tamaki), in the sense in which Maretu is using the term, refers only to inter-tribal conflict.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The vaka was both a social and a territorial unit. In the latter sense it referred to the area inhabited by the tribe, and for this use of the term we have chosen to use the word ‘district’ (of which there were consequently three). Matters of interest to the whole tribe were discussed on the tribal koutu,<note xml:id="ftn5-34" n="5"><p>The ‘royal court’ of a reigning ariki. For a fuller description see <ref type="page" target="#n62">page 62</ref>.</p></note> but little knowledge remains of the matters dealt with at these meetings. Within each koutu there were one or two marae, where tribal ceremonies of a religious nature took place and where the ceremonial installation of an ariki was performed. War parties were sometimes organized on a tribal basis, but it appears to have been more common for them to have been arranged by some rather than all of
<pb n="35" xml:id="n35"/>
the lineages within a district. There is little evidence to indicate the nature of judicial processes operating at the tribal level.<note xml:id="ftn1-35" n="1"><p>Maretu quotes an instance shortly after the arrival of the first Tahitian missionary, but before conversion to Christianity had been effected, where in the ariki ordered an offender to pay an idol and a pig as compensation to an injured party. - MS 81. This is the only pre-Christian reference of this sort noted.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c2-2">
            <head>The major lineage (ngati)</head>
            <p rend="indent">It was noted earlier that the island was divided into sub-districts called tapere, and that each was allotted to a particular mataiapo (or ariki). The tapere often took its name from the founding mataiapo or from an incident with which he was associated.<note xml:id="ftn2-35" n="2"><p>E.g. Ngati Vaikai or Ngati Maoate - the second word in each case being the name of the founding mataiapo. The tapere of Tikioki exemplifies the naming of a tapere after an incident with which the founding ancestor was linked. Legend states that Tangiia sent Terei to <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> to fetch (tiki) Tangiia's son Motoro and return (oki) with him to Rarotonga. Terei successfully carried out the mission and was awarded this tapere which was named Tikioki with reference to the incident.</p></note> The occupants of a tapere were known collectively as the matakeinanga. This term included all residents, whether their connection was agnatic, affinal or otherwise. The local descent group (i.e. the matakeinanga less affines and those whose membership was not based on descent) was known as the ngati. It consisted of all those people who, in addition to being co-resident, reckoned their descent from the founding mataiapo, whether or not they could actually trace that descent.<note xml:id="ftn3-35" n="3"><p>In practice anybody whose claim was derived from a person who was an accepted member of the ngati.</p></note> While descent could be traced either patrilineally or matrilineally the former was the more usual.<note xml:id="ftn4-35" n="4"><p>Among the many chiefly genealogies examined, instances of tracing through a female were found to be quite rare; but this rarity was perhaps exaggerated by the tendency to rationalize towards the ideal, and to the fact that when a man acquired his title through his mother, the remembered genealogical link would be from the man to his maternal grandfather, omitting the mother altogether.</p></note> The most common determining
<pb n="36" xml:id="n36"/>
factor, however, was that of residence - children of virilocal marriages generally tracing patrilineally and those of uxorilocal marriages tracing matrilineally. In the latter event, however, one traced through the mother to her father and his (predominantly patrilineal) line of descent. While pre-contact instances of tracing through the mother are not uncommon, no pre-contact cases have been noted wherein descent was traced through females for two consecutive generations; though it did perhaps occur on rare occasions. Such post-contact instances of two successive matrifiliations as have been noted have invariably been associated with special circumstances.<note xml:id="ftn1-36" n="1"><p>This refers to post-contact instances prior to the establishment of the Land Court in <date when="1902">1902</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The lineage (as distinct from the tapere) was invariably known by the name of the founding ancestor, prefixed by the word ngati. For instance, a lineage which traced its descent from an ancestor named Ru would be called Ngati Ru, irrespective of the name of the tapere, but as the name of the founding mataiapo became a heritable title name, some tapere (e.g. Ngati Vaikai) have the same name as the occupying lineage.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The descent group occupying the tapere will be referred to as the <hi rend="u">major</hi> lineage, as most major lineages became subdivided in the course of time into several minor lineages. In the Takitumu and Arorangi districts the leadership of the major lineage lay with the mataiapo, whose virtual independence of the ariki in matters relating to land was based on the traditional charter by which the lands of the island were allotted to each mataiapo. In Avarua, on the other hand, headship of three of the six major lineages lay with the three ariki, and of the others, one was headed by the
<pb n="37" xml:id="n37"/>
high priest Takaia,<note xml:id="ftn1-37" n="1"><p>Takaia, being high priest, faded into oblivion after the establishment of the mission.</p></note> one was the immigrant group living in the Avatiu valley who had their own head, whose status in the Make a hierarchy was that of rangatira, and the last was a collection of the once-powerful Ngaaio people who had been subjugated by the Makeas.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Each mataiapo, as head of the major lineage, had a marae which was the focal point of the religious activity of the lineage. While some heads of minor lineages also had marae, this was not usual, and religious activity seems to have been centred at the major lineage level.<note xml:id="ftn2-37" n="2"><p>Tangi-taura, a rangatira under Vakapora Mataiapo, had his own marae, and it may have been significant that Tangi-taura considered himself as virtually independent of Vakapora's authority. - Vakapora. JPS 20:215–8.</p></note> The marae of the mataiapo was used for the installation of the title-holder, but beyond this little information is available.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While a person was said to ‘belong’ to the lineages of his two parents and also to those of his grandparents, clear distinctions were drawn between his rights and obligations in respect of each of these lineages.<note xml:id="ftn3-37" n="3"><p>The structural picture presented here derives from field-work data. It is, however, consistent with the principles which emerge from historical sources.</p></note> While the Rarotongans did not distinguish terminologically between these categories, it is necessary for the purposes of analysis to identify each of them separately.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A child's <hi rend="u">primary</hi> lineage affiliation was usually determined at birth and was confirmed at its naming. If the child was named by its father or by members of his lineage, then it became a member of that lineage, and the person bestowing the name was obliged to supply clothes for the child, and special foods for the mother for some days after parturition. A permanent relationship was set up
<pb n="38" xml:id="n38"/>
between the child and the person who bestowed its name. While most of the children joined the lineage of that parent in whose lineage they resided (usually the father's), it was normal for the family of the other parent to name and provide for at least one of them.<note xml:id="ftn1-38" n="1"><p>Gill states that it was done by reference to the gods, for as the different lineages owed allegiance to different gods, the god of the father was different from the god of the mother and affiliation was formally settled by dedicating the child to the lineage god of one or other parent. He goes on to say that the mother usually gave up one child at least to her own tribe, the rest going to the father's. - <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 323–4 and 331. This custom is still quite commonly observed today.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Primary membership of a lineage could also be acquired by adoption, which was a common method of reinforcing links between individuals and between their respective lineages. The predominant direction of adoption was from a female who had married out, back to her father or brother in her natal lineage. Adoptees were thus almost invariably chosen from secondary members of the adopting lineage (as defined below). If, however, an unrelated person was adopted, he was formally regarded as a member of the lineage, though this membership was marginal and its retention dependent on continued acceptance by the group.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While the major lineage was predominantly a residential unit living within the tapere, it also included for certain purposes all those persons who had been born into the lineage but had subsequently married out or left the tapere, provided they had not been banished or otherwise severed their social connections with their natal lineage. Maintenance of these connections required attendance at lineage gatherings and appropriate contributions to lineage feasts. A wife usually resided with her husband's lineage, but did not become a primary member of it. Persons who were born into a lineage but who subsequently left it at marriage, or adoption, or
<pb n="39" xml:id="n39"/>
under other socially acceptable circumstances will be referred to as <hi rend="u">contingent</hi> members of their lineage of origin, since they did not exercise many of the rights of primary members during their absence and their resumption of primary rights was contingent upon a variety of factors, the most important of which were probably the concurrence of the head of the group and the resumption of residence within it.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Children of contingent members will be referred to as secondary <hi rend="u">members</hi> of the lineage of that parent. To a lesser degree the children of secondary members of a lineage were themselves secondary members, and their connection was recognized for certain purposes. They will be referred to as <hi rend="u">distant secondary</hi> members. There was no definite period of time, or number of generations, which had to elapse before one was no longer eligible for membership of a lineage, though the possibility of gaining entry was clearly reduced by the passage of time. However, other factors were probably even more important, and lineages which needed extra fighting men were presumably content to recognize the most tenuous link with a potential member, whereas those with inadequate land to support their present numbers would not be anxious to admit even close relatives.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While an individual was a primary member of only one ngati as of right he was a potential member of all other lineages from which he could trace descent, either matrilineally or patrilineally.<note xml:id="ftn1-39" n="1"><p>It is appreciated that some writers have raised objections to the use of the term ‘lineage’ in Polynesia due to the fact that Polynesian descent is not necessarily traced unilineally, and Firth suggests the term ‘ramage’ instead. - <hi rend="u">Man</hi> 57:4–8. As the latter term does not yet appear to have achieved wide currency, the former will be adhered to in this study, for while Rarotongan descent groups were often in fact ambilineal, they were supported by a patrilineal ideology and a strong patrilineal bias.</p></note> All members of all such lineages to which one could trace a cognatic relationship were known
<pb n="40" xml:id="n40"/>
as kopu tangata (kindred).<note xml:id="ftn1-40" n="1"><p>The term ‘kopu tangata’ is also used with other connotations which are not of immediate relevance in this context.</p></note> The kindred, which was the widest of all social groups, cut across tribal boundaries and shelter, or food could, ideally at least, be required of any member of the kindred.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Persons whose residence with a lineage was not based on descent or adoption (i.e. those whose membership was due to marriage, to the seeking of refuge or otherwise) will be referred to as <hi rend="u">permissive</hi> members of that lineage. To sum up then, membership of the ngati was based on descent and residence. Primary, contingent and secondary members belonged by the first criterion; primary and permissive members belonged by the second. It was those whose link was by <hi rend="u">both</hi> descent and residence (i.e. the primary members) who constituted the <hi rend="u">core</hi> of the ngati, or what might be called the ngati proper.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c2-3">
            <head>The minor lineage (ngati)</head>
            <p rend="indent">Most major lineages were subdivided into a number of minor lineages (also called ngati), the members of which also traced their descent from a common eponymous ancestor. Like the major lineage of which it was a part, the minor lineage was a predominantly patrilineal descent group. Subdivision generally occurred through the elevation of a real or classificatory younger brother of the titleholder to a position as head of a sub-unit within the major lineage. Often the person chosen was a potential rival for the senior position, whose ambitions were held in check by being given a position of responsibility at a lower level.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There were two categories of minor lineage head (in addition to which the ariki and mataiapo each headed his own minor lineage). The first was the komono or deputy of
<pb n="41" xml:id="n41"/>
a mataiapo.<note xml:id="ftn1-41" n="1"><p>As there were no mataiapo in Avarua this title was not encountered in that district.</p></note> The second was the rangatira which was the most common title on the island and therefore the most common title found among minor lineage heads. Those major lineages which were headed by ariki had significantly more rangatira than did those headed by mataiapo. Some of the larger minor lineages (mainly those in the tapere of ariki) were again subdivided into segments known as kiato, and the head of such a segment was also referred to as a kiato. While kiato were generally junior relatives of the rangatira or other chief to whom they were subordinate, immigrant groups were sometimes also taken in and given the status of kiato.<note xml:id="ftn2-41" n="2"><p>Savage, ‘Dictionary…’.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The core of the minor lineage or kiato was basically a residential unit living in a group of neighbouring hamlets,<note xml:id="ftn3-41" n="3"><p>This is an assumption based on the views of informants, for no detailed descriptions of these hamlets are available, though passing references are made to them. They were superseded immediately after first contact by the mission villages near the coast.</p></note> with contingent and secondary members residing elsewhere. It was at the level of the minor lineage that the life crises of the component members were high-lighted. Births and deaths, and the marriages of persons of rank necessitated the organization of entertainment, the transfer of gifts and the provision of feasts, and while the minor lineage was the usual level at which these activities were organized, on occasions when the person concerned was a mataiapo or ariki, then the responsibility lay with the major lineage or tribe concerned. In this event the term ngati was used with a somewhat different connotation and was prefixed to the name of the titleholder (e.g. Ngati Pa) and used to designate all those people whose lineage heads recognized
<pb n="42" xml:id="n42"/>
that titleholder as superior to them in the same hierarchy of authority.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c2-4">
            <head>The extended family (uanga)</head>
            <p rend="indent">The extended family was a component part of the minor lineage and was based on the same structural principles. It was a group of persons who traced their descent from a common progenitor, sometimes still living, but often deceased a generation or more ago. This progenitor was refered to as the metua (elder) and all those persons descended from him were known as ‘te uanga o mea’ - ‘the descendants of so-and-so’ (the elder concerned). The core of the uanga was the basic residential unit - the household (kainga tangata). Each household usually contained three or even four generations of people, and it was here that the primary and permissive members of the uanga lived. Leadership of the household and of the uanga it represented lay with its elder (also known as metua) who was ideally the senior (but not necessarily the eldest) resident male. Each ariki, mataiapo, komono and rangatira was metua to his own household.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="5" xml:id="c2-5">
            <head>The nuclear family (puna) and the young unmarrieds (mapu)</head>
            <p rend="indent">The puna consisted of a man, his wife and his children plus and minus adoptees. If a man had more than one wife, the family established by each constituted a separate puna. Each puna then was headed by an adult male (though a polygamous man would be the head of more than one puna). Each household probably comprised several puna and a few young single adults (mapu). The puna appears to have been of little importance economically, its main function being that of a procreating unit.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="6" xml:id="c2-6">
            <head>The commoner (unga or tangata rikiriki)</head>
            <p rend="indent">The young unmarried men, the untitled married men, and even many untitled heads of households were known as unga.
<pb n="43" xml:id="n43"/>
There has been some controversy regarding the origin of this word and regarding the best English equivalent with which it may be translated. The words ‘slave’ and ‘serf’ have frequently been used but these do not seem appropriate. Perhaps the best definition is that given by Gill which concerns an analogy with the indigenous arrowroot (tacca pinnatifida), which has one or two large tuberous roots surrounded by many smaller ones. ‘To the highly imaginative native mind,’ says Dr Gill, ‘the large tubers symbolize the chief or chiefs; the smaller ones the landed proprietors owing allegiance to, and by blood related to, the chief or chiefs. But besides these, there are a great number of tiny tubers called unga, representing the serfs, or “little people” (tangata rikiriki) as they are often called i.e. people of no account whatever!’ He goes on to note that derivatives of the word unga are used to describe such things as grains of earth and crumbs of food, and that the underlying idea is that of ‘an insignificant grain or unit’.<note xml:id="ftn1-43" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:128.</p></note> The word also refers to the hermit crab and it is not uncommon for informants today to interpret it (when used for people) as deriving from the fact that the commoner, like the hermit crab, lived in the shelter of somebody else's house. However, Gill claimed over a hundred years ago that this was a modern corruption.<note xml:id="ftn2-43" n="2"><p>Ibid. While vernacular references to unga are generally in respect of ordinary untitled men (e.g. Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 37) there are some instances in later sources where the word was used to denote under-privileged commoners (e.g. by Pa Ariki, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3(b) <date when="1903">1903</date>:9), and it is possible that the meaning of the word was modified to some extent as a corollary of the rise in chiefly power in the nineteenth century.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The social and economic status of the commoner is of some importance, and became a major issue when the Land Court was established and it became necessary to specify the relative rights of commoners and titleholders. Most
<pb n="44" xml:id="n44"/>
early observers tried to pigeonhole the unga into one of the categories known to them from the feudal system. Wyatt Gill referred to them as slaves but said that they enjoyed ‘the protection of the land owner’.<note xml:id="ftn1-44" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:129. By ‘land owner’ he appears to mean the holder of the relevant title.</p></note> William Gill spoke of them as ‘the mass of common people who … under the above three ranks [ariki, mataiapo and rangatira], were in the condition of serfs’.<note xml:id="ftn2-44" n="2"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 12.</p></note> Moss said that they held their land ‘by sufferance’ and that the services rendered by them were ‘personal and menial’. Their origin, he said, was ‘obscure’.<note xml:id="ftn3-44" n="3"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:24.</p></note> But as Moss' analysis showed that all men in the society were either titleholders or unga, there appears to be no reason to consider their origin obscure, nor is there any evidence to suggest that they were other than the ordinary untitled members of the family whose origin was the same as that of the chiefs, except that the latter derived from generations of elder sons.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Reference is sometimes made in the literature to ‘slaves’ (tuika'a). The term seems to have some validity, though only in a relative sense. Tuika'a were either prisoners taken in war who were kept as retainers by the victors, or under-privileged refugees given asylum. They became part of the household, and should be regarded as under-privileged commoners rather than as slaves in a Western sense. If conditions were too onerous they always had the alternative of running away to serve some other chief. The name tuika'a literally means ‘sewn with sennit’ and refers to the custom of marking pigs by tying sennit through their nostrils. Some authorities consider that persons so
<pb n="45" xml:id="n45"/>
classified were ‘but pigs reserved for the day of feasting’,<note xml:id="ftn1-45" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Life in the Southern Isles</hi> 34.</p></note> but it is most unlikely that people who were clearly stated as being allowed to cultivate lands allotted them by their chief would passively wait around to be roasted at his convenience. Generally speaking, few ‘slaves’ were kept. Males were too dangerous for they would always be on the lookout for methods of retaliation, and females in the normal course of events became wives of the more privileged members of the household.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="7" xml:id="c2-7">
            <head>Demographic composition</head>
            <p rend="indent">Some indication of the demographic composition of the various social groups at the time of first contact can be deduced from details of the numbers of tapere, titles and lineages, as well as from population counts by early missionaries. The total population, which was estimated by the first observers at between six and seven thousand,<note xml:id="ftn2-45" n="2"><p>E.g. Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 19. Working from a basis of food requirements in relation to given resources and technology, a recent student of Polynesian populations considers that the island could not at that time have supported more than 7,400 people. - Lay, ‘A Study of Certain Aspects of Human Ecology in the Polynesian High Islands during the Pre-contact Period’ 167.</p></note> was divided between three tribes. In proportion to their numbers at the first tribal counts in <date when="1840">1840</date>,<note xml:id="ftn3-45" n="3"><p>But making allowance for the transfer of the Tupapa sub-district from Takitumu to Avarua just after contact.</p></note> the populations at <date when="1823">1823</date> would have been approximately 3,400 in Takitumu, 1,600 in Arorangi and 1,500 in Avarua. While ideally there was only one ariki to each tribe, there were in fact two separate titles in Takitumu, and though there had been only one title in Avarua it had been divided into three branches.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There were some twenty-eight tapere in Takitumu and nine in Arorangi giving an average of 135 persons in each
<pb n="46" xml:id="n46"/>
major lineage.<note xml:id="ftn1-46" n="1"><p>In Mangaia an accurate census was taken in <date when="1846">1846</date> and showed an average of 89 persons per lineage, though the population had already been reduced by disease from its pre-contact size. In <date when="1854">1854</date>, after a further drop in numbers, an accurate count was made of each lineage. The average number of persons was then 71 per lineage with a range from 14 in the smallest to 214 in the largest - <hi rend="u">No te au Enua i aere ei te Pai Orometua <date when="1846">1846</date></hi> 65; and ‘Census of the population of Mangaia <date when="1854">1854</date>’.</p></note> While ideally (and in the majority of cases in fact) there was only one mataiapo in each tapere, the occupying lineage had in some cases split, and in the extreme case of Tupapa tapere there were seven mataiapo. The number of mataiapo at the time of first contact is not known exactly, but during the nineteenth century some komono and rangatira became elevated to that rank and by the turn of the twentieth century there were forty-two mataiapo in Takitumu and twenty in Arorangi, or an average of nearly two in each tapere.<note xml:id="ftn2-46" n="2"><p>There were several conquered tapere (like Vaimaanga which was divided among the six major lineages responsible for its conquest) which had no separate mataiapo of their own.</p></note> In cases where such a division had occurred, the lands were divided also and the portion assigned to each mataiapo was for all practical purposes a separate tapere even though it was nominally still one.<note xml:id="ftn3-46" n="3"><p>In some instances (probably those where the division had been an amicable one) the seniority of the original mataiapo continued to be recognized, and that title was referred to as mataiapo tutara (senior or paramount mataiapo). In such cases the subordinate lineages were more like minor lineages than major ones.</p></note> The average major lineage in Avarua was somewhat larger, but this is to be expected as there were three ariki lineages and the number of rangatira (indicating the number of minor lineages) was considerably greater than in the other districts. Moreover, probably due to their larger size, many of the minor lineages in Avarua were subdivided into kiato while this was not common in the other districts except in the tapere of ariki.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The only available indication of household size is that when the first European missionaries divided the people of
<pb n="47" xml:id="n47"/>
the island into ‘classes’ in <date when="1827">1827</date> they formed twenty-three classes, each of which comprised from twenty-five to twentyeight households.<note xml:id="ftn1-47" n="1"><p>Prout, <hi rend="u">Memoirs of the Life of the Rev. John Williams</hi> 248.</p></note> Excluding the anti-Christian party this leaves an average of about nine persons per household, or about fifteen households in each major lineage. While some mataiapo had but one komono or rangatira below them, others had several and some ariki had over a dozen. Assuming the average to have been about three (which appears consistent with such information as is available) then the average minor lineage head would have been responsible for about five households.<note xml:id="ftn2-47" n="2"><p>No attempt was made to compile a full list of rangatira titles in existence at the time of first contact, and accurate estimates of the demographic composition of the smaller groups must await archaeological research.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="8" xml:id="c2-8">
            <head>Specialists</head>
            <p rend="indent">Ritual specialization appears generally to have occurred at the level of the lineage head, and one authority claims that each major lineage head was a specialist of one type or another.<note xml:id="ftn3-47" n="3"><p>Numa, MS 7.</p></note> The generic name for a specialist was ta'unga, which refers to the capacity to invoke the assistance of supernatural agencies, and all specialists were believed to be possessed of such powers, though in varying degrees.<note xml:id="ftn4-47" n="4"><p>Savage defines ta'unga as: ‘A name applied to any person who was appointed to, or held the office of a priest, or any person who was skilled in any special art.’ - ‘Dictionary…’. Gill notes that ‘artisans were priests’ and goes on to say ‘That the Rev. John Williams should be able to fell a tree and build a vessel as well as preach and teach was in perfect harmony with their traditional ideas of a priest-chief’. - <hi rend="u">Jottings from the Pacific</hi> 224.</p></note> The most important class of specialists was that of the high priests, of whom there were six - two belonging to the Avarua tribe, and four to Takitumu.<note xml:id="ftn5-47" n="5"><p>There were originally one in Karika's party and five in Tangiia's, but one of them later transferred his allegiance. See <ref type="page" target="#n20">page 20</ref>.</p></note> In addition to these
<pb n="48" xml:id="n48"/>
there were many lesser priests, though just how many we do not know,<note xml:id="ftn1-48" n="1"><p>Of their existence there is ample evidence in random references in the indigenous literature - e.g. Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 51. Even the early mission literature refers to them from time to time - e.g. Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life in the Islands of the Pacific</hi> 41.</p></note> for early mission efforts were directed towards the extermination of the priestly class - preferably, though not necessarily, by conversion. Their efforts were so successful that little knowledge of the role of priests remains.<note xml:id="ftn2-48" n="2"><p>As Judge Morgan has said ‘The Gospel and the principal chiefs survived so it is not difficult to imagine what might have happened to an antagonistic priestly class’. - Taputapuatea rehearing, NLC.</p></note> Other specialists included orators, fishing experts, carpenters, tattoo experts, and net makers.<note xml:id="ftn3-48" n="3"><p>Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 129, 206, 211, 245 and 499.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="9" xml:id="c2-9">
            <head>Marriage</head>
            <p rend="indent">While the lower social strata generally sought their wives within the district, those of higher rank (especially the ariki) often sought theirs from other districts.<note xml:id="ftn4-48" n="4"><p>Of inter-district marriages between chiefs there is ample documentary evidence, but of the marriage of commoners only the evidence of present-day informants is available.</p></note> The degree of consaguinity within which marriage was prohibited is not known for certain; though there was much marriage of ‘near blood relations’.<note xml:id="ftn5-48" n="5"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:20.</p></note> Gill states that exogamy was the rule, but that if a ‘tribe’ split, each portion was regarded as an independent unit and marriages between the two sectors were permissible, even for close kin.<note xml:id="ftn6-48" n="6"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 330.</p></note> Within the ‘tribe’ (which term he does not define) distant cousins could marry ‘but must be of the same generation i.e. be descended in the same degree (fourth or fifth or even more remotely)
<pb n="49" xml:id="n49"/>
from the common ancestor’.<note xml:id="ftn1-49" n="1"><p>Ibid. No pre-contact genealogical evidence to indicate the relationship between spouses has been located.</p></note> The ideal marriage was between persons whose parents were of the same rank, e.g. for the son of a mataiapo to marry the daughter of another mataiapo, but as such arrangements were often not possible, a multitude of other factors must have entered into the selection of marriage partners in many instances.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Polygyny was practised, though most sources consider it to have been the prerogative of the chiefs.<note xml:id="ftn2-49" n="2"><p>Indigenous writers do not specify any principle, but all polyginous marriages they refer to are those of chiefs. Foreign observers who refer to the plurality of wives do not indicate whether or not commoners were entitled to this privilege.</p></note> Additional wives were often sisters of the first wife.<note xml:id="ftn3-49" n="3"><p>Among the many instances recorded in native accounts in which chiefs married sisters are two mentioned by Terei - Tuatua Taito 9 and 24.</p></note> Mission reports often exaggerated the extent of polygyny. Pitman speaks of Make a having had eight wives and Kainuku seventeen<note xml:id="ftn4-49" n="4"><p>Pitman, Journal 29.6.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note> and Gill states that chiefs ‘were wont to have from three to ten wives each’.<note xml:id="ftn5-49" n="5"><p><hi rend="u">Gill, Gems…</hi> 12.</p></note> The available evidence suggests that two or three was the more usual figure, and in the source material the largest number of wives noted as living concurrently with any one man was six.<note xml:id="ftn6-49" n="6"><p>The wives of Kainuku Tamoko Ariki.</p></note> In any case, on a small island where such a high proportion of men were chiefs, and where such infanticide as was practised was confined in the main to female children,<note xml:id="ftn7-49" n="7"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 13.</p></note> there would simply not have been enough women to allow a high incidence of polygamy unless a large proportion of men remained bachelors until late in life.
<pb n="50" xml:id="n50"/>
There is clear evidence to indicate that this was not the case. It is possible, however, that the mission exaggeration was unintentional, for like French, the Rarotongan language makes no clear distinction between wife and woman and in view of the considerable degree of premarital license permitted the reply to a question asking how many wives a man had had could have been very misleading.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Child betrothals were arranged between chiefly families, but the extent of this custom is not known. Mrs Buzacott tells us that some of the chiefs wanted ‘to marry Karika's son who is perhaps about ten years old, to a daughter of Makea who is perhaps about six years of age. It is perfectly consistent with their former customs for the parents to agree for their children in their infancy and childhood…’ This ‘marriage’ was contracted and a feast was prepared as a confirmation of the arrangement.<note xml:id="ftn1-50" n="1"><p>Mrs Buzacott, Journal 16.8.<date when="1830">1830</date>. Gill states that it was common among chiefly families. - <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 326.</p></note> When the parties united by such marriages reached adulthood they were not always satisfied with the match their parents had made and disputes on this account were common. Even in the marriage of adults, the choice of spouse was a family and not an individual arrangement.<note xml:id="ftn2-50" n="2"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:20.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The marriage of persons of rank was the occasion of ceremony and gift exchange on a large scale. The relatives of each party accumulated their gifts, which were then transferred to the family of the other party for distribution.<note xml:id="ftn3-50" n="3"><p>‘… all the people took cloth to the newly married couple according to their custom, the people as a body to the chief's son and the relatives of the damsel to her father. After which the father of the young chief takes the portion of the cloth brought to his son and sends it to the father of the damsel - and he in return sends his portion to the chief.’ - Pitman, Journal 9.11.<date when="1829">1829</date>.</p></note>
<pb n="51" xml:id="n51"/>
Like all other arrangements of note, a marriage was the occasion of feasting. Further gifts (mainly cloth) were brought to mark the first pregnancy and the birth of the first child.<note xml:id="ftn1-51" n="1"><p>Ibid.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">While the preferred marriage was between persons of the same social class, none of the classes were endogamous and it was not uncommon for chiefs to marry commoners.<note xml:id="ftn2-51" n="2"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 20:129. The existence of this custom is beyond doubt, but its incidence is impossible to ascertain as precontact genealogies generally omit wives other than the senior wife through whom the title passed.</p></note> A family of low status could improve its position by giving a particularly attractive daughter in marriage to a powerful chief, and it was not uncommon for a chief to marry off his daughter into an inferior group in order to swell the ranks of his lineage.<note xml:id="ftn3-51" n="3"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 329–30.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="10" xml:id="c2-10">
            <head>Transmission of titles</head>
            <p rend="indent">The ideal pattern of transmission of titles was from father to eldest son.<note xml:id="ftn4-51" n="4"><p>The study of genealogies shows this to have been the dominant pattern but, owing to the fact that kinship terminology was classificatory and adoption was widespread, what is stated as being father to son may not infrequently have been uncle to nephew. In the more recent generations such distinctions are known, but in earlier generations they were not, indicating a process of assimilation to the ideal as time obliterates the details.</p></note> If the dying chief's eldest son was of such ability and maturity of years that he could adequately discharge the duties of his father's office no problem arose as to succession, but frequently the situation was not so straightforward.<note xml:id="ftn5-51" n="5"><p>One authority claims that if the eldest son were unfitted to hold the title, then it was sometimes claimed that the appropriate god had taken up its abode in the youngest member of the family, and the title passed to him accordingly. - Gill, <hi rend="u">Life…</hi> 46. No actual cases of this have been noted, either in the pre-contact era or later.</p></note> The chief may have two eldest sons - one from each of his two wives, whose relative status may
<pb n="52" xml:id="n52"/>
not be clear-cut, for the ‘seniority’ of a wife may have to be manipulated in terms of the political position of her family, as much as in respect to her age or her place in the order of her husband's marriages. In the case of Makea Te Pa Atua Kino who elevated the eldest sons of each of his three wives to the rank of ariki, his motive appears to have been to maintain the support of contending factions, each of which would only be content with the title passing to a child of the wife who originated from that faction.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A chief might have no son at all, in which case a number of aspirants might put forward claims on a variety of bases. An adopted son may make a claim, and in such a case the status of the adoptee's born parents, as well as his blood relationship to the adopting father, would be important considerations. In at least one pre-contact instance the adoptee used the strength of his club to compensate for the weakness of his adoptive right relative to that of other claimants.<note xml:id="ftn1-52" n="1"><p>Savage, ‘Iro Nui Ma Oata’ 59. The successful claimant in the example cited was both a child of an ariki family of another district and a close relative of his adopted father.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The genealogy of Rongooe as recorded by Wyatt Gill shows that when Rongooe was banished to the other side of the island the title went to his younger brother.<note xml:id="ftn2-52" n="2"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 628. It should be noted, however, that Terei gives a different account of this chapter of events - <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi>, part IV.</p></note> Particular political and demographic circumstances doubtless led to claimants with even lesser qualifications successfully contending for high titles on some occasions.<note xml:id="ftn3-52" n="3"><p>One genealogy of an ariki line recorded during the last century shows 24 generations prior to the time of European contact. In 22 of the cases the title is shown as passing from father to son, in one case to a younger brother, and in the remaining instance the title was split into two and each of two sons of the previous ariki was given ariki status. - Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 627–33. Later Land Court evidence, however, shows that at least one of the ariki in the above line was an adopted child, and that the title was divided into three and not two. With such known errors in the more recent part of the genealogy, one can reasonably assume the possibility of other deviations from the norm in the earlier and lesser known portion of it. Even in post-contact genealogies instances are known where the socially accepted genealogy differs somewhat from the known biological facts.</p></note> Rivalry over
<pb n="53" xml:id="n53"/>
succession to titles between classificatory siblings (tuakanateina) is so recurrent in legend that it probably took a significant place in actual history as well. This rivalry is likewise apparent in recent history and current disputes - not between real siblings, for their relative seniority is clear-cut<note xml:id="ftn1-53" n="1"><p>Except where the elder is alleged to have been adopted out in which case his status relative to that of the next elder brother has sometimes been a matter for dispute.</p></note> - but between classificatory ones. The classic case is that of Tangiia himself who left <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> as a result of a protracted dispute over title and lands with his adopted brother Tutapu. They were sons respectively of a woman and her brother, but both were adopted by their senior uncle (the eldest brother of the above parents) who had no sons of his own. Tangiia's mother was older than Tutapu's father, and she was the eldest sibling to produce a son. Tutapu on the other hand was from a male sibling, albeit a younger one. We are not told which of them was adopted first, or what was the relative status of their other parents, but it is apparent that one was senior according to some criteria and the other according to other criteria.<note xml:id="ftn2-53" n="2"><p>The fullest account is given by Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> part I.</p></note> Karika, the other founding ancestor, left <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> in similar circumstances.<note xml:id="ftn3-53" n="3"><p>Ta'unga, MS 3.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The selection of the ariki in the Takitumu and Arorangi districts was a matter for their respective priests and mataiapo, while in Avarua it was the responsibility of the
<pb n="54" xml:id="n54"/>
priests and the more important rangatira.<note xml:id="ftn1-54" n="1"><p>Those rangatira who were entitled to participate are listed in MB 12:295–6 NLC. Those with no direct blood connection to the ariki were excluded.</p></note> The high priest of the district carried out the investiture and in some instances had a considerable influence on the actual selection.<note xml:id="ftn2-54" n="2"><p>E.g. Numa, MS 13–14.</p></note> In the normal course of events, the eldest son of the late chief would inherit the title and the role of the lesser chiefs would be simply to confirm the appointment and perform the appropriate ceremonies. Whether the ariki had a standing right to participate in the election of ariki of other districts is not certain, though there is clear evidence that on some occasions at least they were influential in the selection.<note xml:id="ftn3-54" n="3"><p>E.g. Maretu, MS 20–31.</p></note> While they normally participated in the ceremonial attendant on the investiture, this of itself does not indicate that they had had any right to determine the candidate selected.<note xml:id="ftn4-54" n="4"><p>Moss states categorically that ariki were selected by the other ariki on the island, but that the new appointee had to be chosen from the family of the deceased. Given the rule of primogeniture and the necessity to select from the family of the deceased, they could not normally have had much in the way of choice, though their confirmation may have been required. On the other hand, it is possible that Moss is confusing their right to participate in the ceremonial with a right to select. - Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:24.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1895">1895</date>, following a dispute as to the succession to the Pa title (the encumbent having no born children) the Arikis Council spelt out the ‘mode of election and of installation of Arikis according to the established Maori custom’.<note xml:id="ftn5-54" n="5"><p>Minutes of Meeting of Arikis Council 5.11.<date when="1895">1895</date>. - <hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 9.11.<date when="1895">1895</date>.</p></note> In this they stated that it was the responsibility of the priests and the mataiapo to select the ariki, ‘and such selection is to be made only from the nearest relations
<pb n="55" xml:id="n55"/>
of the Ariki deceased, and they are to declare the same publicly’. However, they then qualify this statement by adding that: ‘Should any new ariki be chosen without the other arikis, priests, and mataiapos of all the districts being present at the meeting, it must be proven satisfactorily to them that the one chosen is a near relative of the deceased ariki. If it not be so proven the arikis, the priests, and the mataiapos from every part of Rarotonga shall meet together in one place, and it shall be for them to decide who will be the new ariki. It must be clearly shown that the new Ariki is the hereditary descendant in a direct line’.<note xml:id="ftn1-55" n="1"><p>Ibid.</p></note> The requirement that all chiefs of the island should meet seems to be a post-contact modification, and in fact appears to have been specifically designed to meet the wishes of the other districts whose chiefs, in this particular case, disagreed with the wish of the dying titleholder who wanted to transfer the title to an adopted son whose claim in terms of seniority and proximity by blood to the incumbent was not as strong as those of other contenders.</p>
            <p rend="indent">On the question of a dying titleholder designating a successor by will (reo iku), the Arikis Council said ‘An ariki may wish to appoint a successor on his … deathbed. After the ariki's death these words shall be carefully considered, and if it is found that the party named as a successor is a proper heir, such words shall be confirmed, not otherwise’.<note xml:id="ftn2-55" n="2"><p>Ibid.</p></note> This statement of principle confirms what was apparent in practice - that a ‘will’ might be influential, but was far from necessarily binding.</p>
            <pb n="56" xml:id="n56"/>
            <p rend="indent">Titles were sometimes transferred to a new holder during the lifetime of the previous incumbent. When missionaries first called at Rarotonga in <date when="1823">1823</date> Makea Pori and Makea Karika II were the ariki of the Avarua district. The fathers of both of these men were still alive but had ‘voluntarily devolved the regal authority and title upon their sons…. This, however, is no uncommon occurrence amongst chiefs, greater and lesser, of the Polynesian race’.<note xml:id="ftn1-56" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 630. In the particular instance the elder chiefs could have relinquished their titles as a result of their defeat at the hands of the Ngatangiia chiefs, for the transfer took place between the time of their defeat and of the reinstatement of their power in Avarua.</p></note> Williams makes reference to a custom whereby sons, on reaching manhood, would wrestle with their fathers for mastery of the family lands.<note xml:id="ftn2-56" n="2"><p>A Narrative… 138. This is the only reference found to this custom which Williams calls ‘kukumianga’. The word ‘kukumianga’ in modern Rarotongan means ‘wrestling’, but informants did not recognize the word in the connection which Williams mentions. Gill does, however, mention having often seen instances of aging parents handing over the family house to the son who was to succeed to headship of the family while they retired to a small hut nearby. Gill, <hi rend="u">Life…</hi> 46.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Genealogical evidence indicates that lesser titleholders were selected by the same principles as the ariki, but informants today claim that their formal acceptance was a matter for the senior members of the subgroups below that title. This is supported by evidence given before the Native Land Court. Illegitimates (i.e. children born other than from socially recognized spouses) were not eligible to hold titles.<note xml:id="ftn3-56" n="3"><p>There are a few post-contact examples of such persons succeeding to titles, but invariably the child's right was acquired through the adopting parent and even then trouble resulted.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Women were not eligible to hold any titles, though tradition tells of a woman who was once created an ariki. However, such was the wrath of the gods at seeing this
<pb n="57" xml:id="n57"/>
transgression of the norm, that she died within 24 hours of assuming office.<ref target="#ftn1-56"><hi rend="sup">1</hi></ref> Rather probably, the wrath of the gods was reinforced by some more secular potion administered by their earthly agents at the feasting.</p>
            <note xml:id="ftn1-57">
              <p><hi rend="sup">1</hi>Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 31.</p>
            </note>
            <p rend="indent">As a concrete illustration of the pre-contact transmission of rank titles, the following example has been reconstructed.<ref target="#ftn2-56"><hi rend="sup">2</hi></ref> In this instance the title Te Tika (mataiapo) changed hands four times and the title Kautai (also mataiapo) twice, before they became united as a result of the marriage of the holder of the title of Kautai to the eldest daughter of the holder of the title Te Tika. There were four further transmissions after the titles became held concurrently by the one individual (it is possible that the last one or even two of these occurred after European contact). Of the total of ten instances of transmission, five are from father to eldest son, one is from the last incumbent through his eldest daughter (who is married to a man of rank) to his second eldest grandson (the eldest grandson inherited his own father's title), one is by reversion from the last incumbent to his surviving elder brother, two are from the incumbent to his next younger brother (in at least one of the cases this was due to the elder brother dying without issue), and the last is from the incumbent who had no brother (and probably no issue) to his next most senior classificatory brother.</p>
            <note xml:id="ftn2-57">
              <p><hi rend="sup">2</hi>From evidence contained in MB 1:5–26 NLC. See <ref type="figure" target="#CroLan-f004">diagram</ref> <ref type="page" target="#n59">page 59</ref>.</p>
            </note>
            <p rend="indent">It will be noted that excepting where special circumstances prevailed the title passed from father to eldest son; that the title did not pass to brothers if the previous holder had male issue; and that females and their issue were omitted except in the special case of Paiau, the eldest
<pb n="58" xml:id="n58"/>
offspring, being married to the holder of a title which appears (from the evidence) to have been in a position of dominance or control over the Te Tika lineage at the particular time.</p>
            <pb n="59" xml:id="n59"/>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f004">
                <graphic url="CroLan-004.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f004-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="c">A Pre-Contact Example Illustrating the Pattern of Transmission of Rank Titles</hi>
                </head>
              </figure>
            </p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="60" xml:id="n60"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="3" xml:id="c3">
          <head>Chapter 4<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Distribution of Rights to Land</hi></head>
          <div type="section" xml:id="c3-0">
            <p rend="indent">It is inappropriate to say that anyone ‘owned’ land in Rarotonga, for this might suggest that individuals had absolute power to use and dispose of land as they wished. In fact, more than one person was involved in every piece of land and the rights of every individual were conditioned, not only by rights of a similar order held by others in the same land, but also by a hierarchy of rights of different orders held at various levels within the society. No rights were recognized as belonging to the island as a whole,<note xml:id="ftn1-60" n="1"><p>There were two possible (or partial) exceptions to this rule. The first was the road round the island, which was built centuries ago and is still in use. It was the approved route for all persons travelling between districts or tapere. However, the lands it traversed were those of the various lineages, and it was only safe to use the road in times of peace. The second partial exception occurred in the case of the few great marae which, though vested in particular ariki, were nevertheless used by the whole island on some occasions.</p></note> and all the rights in any particular piece of land have never belonged to any one individual.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Land rights were held by social groups, and the rights of each group were nominally vested in the title name of the head of that group, and it was by that name that the lands were known. Lands of the Makea tribe were referred to as Makea lands (te enua o Makea) and decisions taken relative to those lands <hi rend="u">at the tribal level</hi> were made by the holder of the Makea Ariki title.<note xml:id="ftn2-60" n="2"><p>The most usual decision taken at this level would be in respect to applying a ra'ui or customary prohibition on certain products from all the lands of the tribe.</p></note> Those lands <hi rend="u">within</hi>
<pb n="61" xml:id="n61"/>
the Makea tribal lands which were in the recognized possession of the Anautoa lineage would be referred to as Anautoa lands, and matters concerning those lands <hi rend="u">at the lineage level</hi> would be dealt with by the holder of the title of Anautoa Rangatira.<note xml:id="ftn1-61" n="1"><p>Decisions at this level would include those relating to the reallocation of lands of a kiato which had died out.</p></note> Likewise, <hi rend="u">within</hi> the Anautoa lineage, those lands allocated to a particular kiato would be referred to in the name of the head of that kiato. At a lower level again, the lands of particular households were referred to in the name of the household head. All arable land on the island was associated with a particular tribe and a particular lineage and that in current occupation at least with a particular kiato and/or household. There was no land which was not associated with a particular title,<note xml:id="ftn2-61" n="2"><p>With the exception of some unused lands in the central mountainous core. This land is not included as belonging to the island as a whole, for while it may be so conceived today, there is no evidence of its having been so regarded in precontact times.</p></note> and no title which was not associated with certain areas of land.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c3-1">
            <head>The role of the titleholder</head>
            <p rend="indent">The ariki was the titular head of the tribe, and in formal speech the whole of the lands of the tribe were often spoken of as the lands of the ariki. Likewise, the lands of smaller groups were referred to in the name of the lesser chief concerned. There is no doubt that the ariki were very highly respected and regarded as having considerable power, both sacred and secular. It is equally clear, however, that in regard to land these powers were tempered by the recognition of a series of other rights, and by the need to retain the support of the people.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In reading the source material it is often difficult to distinguish between the rights of the chief and the rights of his tribe or lineage, for the two are often spoken
<pb n="62" xml:id="n62"/>
of synonymously, as exemplified in the following definition of the koutu:</p>
            <q>
              <p rend="indent">The koutu is … the seat or royal court of a reigning ariki…. It was the special place where all offerings … to the ancient gods were first assembled … where all the chiefs and persons of note … and members of the ariki family were buried … where all tribal annual feasts were held…. Each tribe had its principal koutu and lesser grade koutu. At the principal koutu the ariki usually … resided with … certain members of his family. Certain other chiefs and warriors whose tribal standing and functions made it necessary to do so also resided there…. The only tribal ranks that were entitled to the dignity of holding and possessing a koutu were those of ariki and mataiapo tutara.<note xml:id="ftn1-62" n="1"><p>A mataiapo tutara is a mataiapo of very high standing who has some degree of influence over other mataiapo in the vicinity - see <ref type="page" target="#n37">page 37</ref> <ref target="#ftn2-37">footnote 2</ref>.</p></note> The ariki would ex officio be the head of his particular koutu…. According to tribal accounts no one ariki or individual could claim the absolute ownership of a koutu, this place was in reality the property of the tribe, and the ariki as head of the tribe was the trustee….<note xml:id="ftn2-62" n="2"><p>Savage, ‘Dictionary…’. Two of the most important koutu on the island at the time of first contact with Europeans were Arai-te-<name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name> (the koutu of the Makeas) and Pu Kuru Vaa Nui (the koutu of the Pa Ariki).</p></note></p>
            </q>
            <p rend="indent">The koutu then may be regarded as ariki land or as tribal land, and indeed it was both. While koutu were always referred to as the koutu of the ariki concerned, it is apparent that the rights of the ariki and the tribe were closely interwoven and the right of the tribe or lineage was symbolized in the name of its chief. An example of this symbolic ownership is given in a description of the pre-contact ceremony for the investiture of a new ariki which says: ‘At this time also is delivered over to the ariki the supremacy over the lands…’. A little further on the author notes that the ariki must also be given a ‘small piece’ of land at the koutu.<note xml:id="ftn3-62" n="3"><p>Smith (quoting Tamarua), <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 12:220.</p></note> In other words, the ariki's right to the whole of the lands of the district was primarily a symbolic one, for these lands were already
<pb n="63" xml:id="n63"/>
divided among the chiefs and again among the minor lineages and households, and only the specific ‘small piece’ pertained to the ariki personally as the holder of the title.<note xml:id="ftn1-63" n="1"><p>Firth makes a similar point in reference to the New Zealand Maoris. He says ‘… the chief did not have a personal claim in all the lands of his tribe. To certain places he had an individual right, derived from his ancestors, from occupation or from some other cause, and he also possessed a claim in pieces of land held in common with his relatives. His interest in the remainder of the tribal territory is of a socio-political rather than an economic nature…’. - Firth, <hi rend="u">Economics of the New Zealand Maori</hi> 377.</p></note> The Land Court has repeatedly referred to the chiefs as trustees for their people and this notion of trusteeship is particularly appropriate, for a chief's actions were, ideally at least, actions for the group as a whole, on whose behalf he acted and spoke after due consultation. The question of chiefly rights in land, which was probably not very significant during the pre-contact era with its subsistence economy and segmented social groupings, became an issue of considerable importance after commercial agriculture began and land assumed a cash value.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Like other members of the tribe, the chiefs had particular lands for residence and food supply which were held in the same way as other family lands. If the successor to an arikiship was not living at the koutu, it would be necessary for him to reside there after his appointment, but he generally continued to draw on his family lands for his food supply.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Should any family die out, the land reverted to the source or line from which it had come - in practice to the chief of the line from whose lands it had originally been allotted. The chief (probably after consulting other members of the group) could either reallocate the land to some family which needed or wanted it, or he could leave it unoccupied, in which case it would be under the direct
<pb n="64" xml:id="n64"/>
control of himself or his successor chiefs until such time as it was reallocated. If he needed the land he could, of course, allot it to himself for use, but a distinction must be made between such lands as were taken over by the chief for the personal use of his own family, and those unused lands which he administered on behalf of the group for collective use, or for subsequent reallocation. Unallotted land of this latter type could be used to provide new areas for the settlement of families which had split as a result of increase in numbers or domestic dispute.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There was a certain flexibility as to place of residence and as to the admission of new members or the expulsion of others. It was the titleholder who, nominally at least, was responsible for such decisions.<note xml:id="ftn1-64" n="1"><p>References to admissions and expulsions in indigenous writings almost invariably describe them as being effected by the titleholder even when (in the case of eviction) it is clear from the description that the whole group participated.</p></note> Nevertheless, in the case of admissions at least, the wishes of the individual concerned were probably the dominant consideration.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c3-2">
            <head>Rights of the tribe</head>
            <p rend="indent">The rights of the tribe may be more properly described as those rights of its component individuals which were held in common or exercised collectively. Though the tribe was a significant unit in political affairs, tribal rights in land were limited.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Firstly there were rights of access. In daylight and on approved activities members of the tribe could move freely within the area provided they kept to the appropriate pathways and were on friendly terms with the lineages whose lands they were crossing.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Secondly there were rights to those lands specifically set aside for tribal use. These were small in area and
<pb n="65" xml:id="n65"/>
restricted to particular functions. There was the koutu of the ariki, and within the koutu there were one or more marae or sacred grounds. Marae were centres of religious activity, and the marae within a koutu was the centre of religious activity of the tribe.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The third tribal right was that to produce of all tribal lands for feasts involving the whole tribe. To these every household was expected to contribute. While this was a social obligation deriving from membership of the tribe, it was closely related to the occupation of land, for every primary member of the tribe was occupying his own portion of the lands within the tribal district;<note xml:id="ftn1-65" n="1"><p>An exception to this rule occurs in the relatively few cases of persons exercising primary land rights in districts other than their own. In such cases they did contribute to certain functions organized by the tribe in whose district the land was situated, and their doing so was stated explicitly to be due to their land rights. In this sense they can be regarded as primary members of the tribe to which they made the contributions.</p></note> permissive members also drew their sustenance from specific tribal lands, and contingent and secondary members contributed in recognition of their relationship to that tribe and to a specific lineage and tapere within it.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The existence of tribal meeting places and records of tribal meetings indicate that there was some system of consultation about affairs of common concern but there is no evidence to suggest that land rights were discussed at these meetings. Tribal aid was probably expected in the defence of tribal lands, though it was not always forthcoming and the available evidence shows that tribal unity was much more often achieved for defence than it was for attack. It might be expected that the forest lands would be held by the tribe in common but this was not so. By dividing the island into triangular segments running from a peak in the mountains
<pb n="66" xml:id="n66"/>
to a strip along the edge of the lagoon, each lineage had access to the trees and other products of the mountain soils,<note xml:id="ftn1-66" n="1"><p>The main products obtained from the mountains were building materials, berries, plantains and wildfowl.</p></note> and every segment of the land was identified with a particular lineage.<note xml:id="ftn2-66" n="2"><p>There is in fact some land within the core of the central mountain complex which is not identified with any particular lineage. There are claims to its ownership in the literature based on ancient native myths, but the Native Land Court has never been called on to determine its ownership. It is not in use, and according to informants never has been. It was considered to be an area frequented by spirits.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c3-3">
            <head>Rights of the lineage</head>
            <p rend="indent">The major lineage was the largest and most permanent unit having control of the allocation and use of land. Tribal units expanded and contracted with the exigencies of warfare and the occasional transfer of political allegiance by some lineages from one tribe to another. The larger major lineages each occupied a whole valley and most of them trace that occupation to the time of settlement by Tangiia about 1200 A.D. As noted earlier, the original mataiapo were each allotted a tapere on which they settled with their families.<note xml:id="ftn3-66" n="3"><p>See <ref type="page" target="#n18">page 18</ref>.</p></note> The boundary of each tapere ran from two points on the outer reef, across the lagoon and the adjacent lowlands, up two flanking ridges to end at a point in the central mountain core.<note xml:id="ftn4-66" n="4"><p>There are a few atypical tapere (e.g. Tauae) which do not extend from the sea to the mountains.</p></note> As the occupying lineages grew and split into separate minor lineages it was the duty of the mataiapo to allot to each segment sufficient land on which to live and plant its crops.</p>
            <pb n="67" xml:id="n67"/>
            <p rend="indent">Once allocated to a minor lineage, the rights of the major lineage over the land were limited to four - the symbolic right,<note xml:id="ftn1-67" n="1"><p>As discussed on <ref type="page" target="#n62">pages 62</ref>-<ref type="page" target="#n63">3</ref>.</p></note> the right of reversion in the event of the line dying out,<note xml:id="ftn2-67" n="2"><p>See <ref type="page" target="#n92">pages 92</ref>-<ref type="page" target="#n93">3</ref>.</p></note> and the right to participate in decisions involving the tapere as a whole, and rights to the lagoon. The tapere marae were held on a major lineage basis, and ceremonial at this level required contributions from the whole lineage. It should be made clear that whereas the minor lineage derived its right from the mataiapo or ariki concerned, the major lineage almost invariably held in its own right and not from an ariki.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Most of the tapere lands were subdivided among the minor lineages, each of which was headed by a rangatira or komono, or by the mataiapo himself. The minor lineage was the most important landholding unit in the system, its lands having clear-cut boundaries which were intended to be permanent, though reorganizations no doubt occurred. Such of the tapere lands as were not occupied by or allotted to particular minor lineages remained the common property of the major lineage; however, according to Land Court investigations, such lands were but few.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The most common indigenous pattern of division within the tapere was to take the central stream-bed as the basic boundary, then allocate sections of land running at right angles from the stream-bed back to the flanking ridge which formed the boundary with the next tapere. On the flat lands the ancient inland road was taken as the starting point lands were allocated at right angles to the road running either seaward to the lagoon or inland to the hills. This pattern of land division is illustrated by the attached map of Turangi and adjacent tapere.</p>
            <pb n="68" xml:id="n68"/>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f005">
                <graphic url="CroLan-005.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f005-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="c">Turingi &amp; Adjacent Tapere</hi>
                </head>
                <p>THE PATTERN OF LAND DIVISION:
<list type="simple"><label>a)</label><item><p>IN THE VALLEY AT RIGHT ANGLES TO THE STREAM-BED.</p></item><label>b)</label><item><p>ON THE FLAT LAND AT RIGHT ANGLES TO THE INLAND ROAD.</p></item></list>
</p>
              </figure>
            </p>
            <pb n="69" xml:id="n69"/>
            <p rend="indent">In some cases the minor lineage was allocated a ‘slice’ of the tapere running from the sea to the mountains, and in others it was allocated particular separate portions of land such that it held sufficient of each category of land for its particular needs. In the case of the valleys, while the lands allocated ran from the stream-bed to the ridge-top, the only lands planted were close to the stream-bed. Coconut and other trees might be planted on the gentle slopes, but the steep hillsides, which constituted the bulk of the land area, were not planted. On these hillsides, despite the nominal allocation to a particular minor lineage, members of the major lineage could collect wild fruits and hunt wildfowl. The extent of this right to forage is not known but present-day informants say that it did not extend to the cutting of trees for building purposes without permission.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Rights to the lagoon and its products were generally exercised by the matakeinanga occupying the tapere, but the extent of subdivision within the tapere is not clear, for while the boundary point on the outer edge of the reef was known for district and tapere boundaries<note xml:id="ftn1-69" n="1"><p>Informants today still claim to know these boundaries, but as all land below high water mark has since <date when="1915">1915</date> been vested in the Crown and is accessible to all, there has been no occasion to test the accuracy of these claims.</p></note> there was some uncertainty as to whether or not internal boundaries ended at an identifiable point.<note xml:id="ftn2-69" n="2"><p>Though in some cases they did so.</p></note> There was certainly no system of artificial marking within the lagoon, though named coral rocks were often quoted in early Court cases as being boundary marks.<note xml:id="ftn3-69" n="3"><p>E.g. MB 1:107 and 163 NLC.</p></note> Informants gave conflicting accounts of the rights to fish and other produce within the lagoon, some considering that these rights belonged exclusively to
<pb n="70" xml:id="n70"/>
the major lineage which owned that portion of the lagoon, and that any others wishing to fish there would require the prior permission of the mataiapo concerned. Others, however, claimed that one could fish or collect seafoods in any part of the lagoon fronting the tribal district. All were of the opinion that this right lay only within the tribal district, and that any person fishing in a tapere to which he did not belong should send a token of the catch to the head of the owning lineage.<note xml:id="ftn1-70" n="1"><p>This custom has long since ceased on the island.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The right to take coral rock for building marae or other purposes, or to take pebbles for making pathways, lay only with the lineage which owned the portion of lagoon concerned. For any others to make use of these materials required prior consent. Wyatt Gill describes public fish poisoning drives which used to be held in Rarotonga and in which the whole island participated.<note xml:id="ftn2-70" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">Gill, Jottings…</hi> 140–2.</p></note> This, however, was some time after the introduction of the gospel and there is no indication to show whether or not drives on this scale took place in the pre-contact era. Fishweirs belonged to the extended family whose ancestors had built them, and the use of them without permission was regarded as theft.<note xml:id="ftn3-70" n="3"><p>Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 217. This remains the case today.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Reef passages giving access from the lagoon to the open sea were associated with the senior title of the major lineage of the tapere in which they were found.<note xml:id="ftn4-70" n="4"><p>Confirmatory evidence is given by witnesses in the Land Court in AMB 1:15 and MB 19:170 NLC.</p></note> Buck claims that the titleholder could claim a portion of the catch from any fisherman using that passage.<note xml:id="ftn5-70" n="5"><p>Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 210.</p></note> Traditions amply confirm
<pb n="71" xml:id="n71"/>
this, and there is a legend of a greedy chief who, too demanding in the exercise of this prerogative, was banished by his people.<note xml:id="ftn1-71" n="1"><p>Taraare, MS 112–13.</p></note> The passage can be regarded as belonging either to the lineage or the chief, but it appears more reasonable to assume that a lineage member made his contribution to his chief as head of the social group, than to regard it as payment for the use of his reef passage. Likewise the contributions of strangers using the passage were presumably to the chief as head of the owning lineage and not personally in his capacity as ‘owner’. It is very doubtful, indeed, that a chief could deny any kinsman use of the passage, and quite impossible for him to reserve the use of it to himself alone. The rights in the passage then, were of three kinds - the right of use by all members of the lineage subject to appropriate contributions to the chief; the right of ownership by the lineage which was vested in the chief as head of the lineage, and substantiated by the fact that non-members required permission and were required to render tribute to the chief as representative of the owning lineage; and the right of the chief to demand a proportion of the catch.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Separate treatment of the kiato does not appear to be merited, as they functioned in the same way as the minor lineages of which they were a part, though necessarily on a smaller scale.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c3-4">
            <head>Rights of the extended family</head>
            <p rend="indent">The extended family constituted the elementary unit of landholding and was identified with the use of particular portions of the land of the minor lineage. The household (the residential core of the extended family) was the
<pb n="72" xml:id="n72"/>
elementary unit of production and consumption. It is said that even when the ‘household’ consisted of more than one sleeping house there was but one cooking house.<note xml:id="ftn1-72" n="1"><p>Examples of this pattern of domestic living are still seen in some of the outer islands today.</p></note> The nuclear family does not seem to have existed as a distinct social unit for production or consumption.<note xml:id="ftn2-72" n="2"><p>As William Gill observed, ‘A family, as the term signifies to an English ear, was not known among this people’. - <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 12.</p></note> In some cases the household may have constituted the residential core of a minor lineage, but more commonly it seems that each minor lineage consisted of six or more households. Each household lived on one of the lands from which it drew subsistence in a hamlet located near the inland road, some set in only about ten to thirty paces from the road and others set further back in the valley.<note xml:id="ftn3-72" n="3"><p>Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 207. The oven stones and kitchen middens are in many instances still visible today.</p></note> In addition to the right to specific portions of land, households (or in some cases minor lineages) sometimes held rights to bathing pools, shrimp beds and ponds for soaking yams in streams that were passing through lands other than their own. Other subsidiary rights held on land other than that in normal occupation included those to water derived by irrigation channels from the property of another. Owing to the physical configuration of the tapere such rights were, of course, held only between members of the same matakeinanga.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The boundaries of the lands of the households were less permanently defined than those of the lineages, and were subject to more frequent adjustment at the direction of the minor lineage head, in order to better comply with the changing needs of the various households. So far as can be ascertained the nuclear families within the household were
<pb n="73" xml:id="n73"/>
not differentiated in their use of land, but satisfactory evidence on the point is lacking. However, the proprietary rights of many of the component members differed from one another. For instance, the rights of wives were of a different order from those of husbands; the rights of daughters were of a different order from those of sons; the rights of children of uxorilocal marriages were not necessarily the same as those of virilocal marriages, and the rights of children of one wife were different from those of another wife.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="5" xml:id="c3-5">
            <head>Rights of the individual</head>
            <p rend="indent">The rights of the individual were invariably shared. No doubt there were instances of individuals being the sole survivors of families which died out, and such persons could, theoretically at least, inherit the whole of the family lands. Such an atypical situation, however, could not last for long, for the individual concerned would either marry, in which case he would normally produce multiple offspring; or alternatively he would die without issue, in which case the lands would revert to the head of the lineage for reallocation to some group which was in need.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The fact that rights were invariably held by more than one person has often led to the view that they were held in common, and that the rights of each member were equal, or of the same order as those of the others. The blanket term ‘communal tenure’ has often been used with this connotation. To the extent that the term is given this connotation, it is quite inappropriate to describe the land tenure system of Rarotonga, and probably equally inappropriate for many other societies to which it is applied.<note xml:id="ftn1-73" n="1"><p>While this term is perfectly appropriate to an institution such as the Israeli kibbutz, it is confusing indeed to categorize the Rarotongan tenure system by the same term as is used to describe a kibbutz.</p></note> It hides, or denies the
<pb n="74" xml:id="n74"/>
existence of, the diverse nature and complex structure of the rights held by the various individuals and groups within the society.</p>
            <p rend="indent">To illustrate this point let us reconstruct a hypothetical household in pre-contact Rarotonga and examine the land rights associated with it.<note xml:id="ftn1-74" n="1"><p>The composition of the household is shown in the <ref type="figure" target="#CroLan-f006">diagram</ref> on next page.</p></note> There would be some lands in which many people held rights concurrently, but in no case would their rights be the same. While between them they would hold rights in many pieces of land, let us consider their relative rights in one portion only - a taro patch which belonged to the forbears of B and the right to which passed to him by the process of inheritance. The right to plant the patch rests ultimately with him though some other members of the household may be entitled to share in decisions regarding its use. Some of them, however, such as J and L, would have no say at all. N would have a special right as this was one of the lands in which, at the time of his adoption, it was arranged that he would have rights. B would have the right to set aside this patch as a marriage portion for his daughter G. No other member of the household would have this right, though H, as heir to the title, and A may be entitled to object if the remaining lands of the household were inadequate.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The rights of C are dependent on her marriage to B. If the marriage breaks up her rights lapse, but his are unaffected. If he dies, the continuation of her right to use will be a matter for the next titleholder (probably H) to decide. At the moment, the probability of C being allowed to remain and use the land if her husband dies is greater than that of J being allowed to remain if her husband dies, for J is younger, her family has not yet established a
<pb n="75" xml:id="n75"/>
<pb n="76" xml:id="n76"/>
household of its own, and her husband is untitled. The rights of G are different from those of her sister K, for G is betrothed to a chief of another lineage and her children will inherit their primary rights from their father. As heir to the title, as a married man with male issue, and as senior male sibling, the right of H to deliberate on the devise of the patch by will is not the same as the right of M, his younger unmarried brother. The children designated R to X all have rights, but as minors they cannot themselves exercise them as yet. The potential rights of the males among them are different from those of the females, those of the adoptee are different from those of the born issue, those of the older are different from those of the younger, and those of the progeny of H are different from those of his younger sister K.</p>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f006">
                <graphic url="CroLan-006.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f006-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="c">A Hypothetical Pre-Contact Household in Rarotonga</hi>
                </head>
              </figure>
              <note>
                <p><hi rend="u">Note:</hi> All relationships are given with reference to B - the head of the household</p>
              </note>
            </p>
            <p rend="indent">The temporal aspect of each right differs. In the event of the continued planting of the patch, the male agnates have a lifetime right plus the ability to pass that right to their children. This right is modified if they leave the household to reside elsewhere. That of the refugee E ceases on his death and does not pass to his issue unless specific provision is made for them. That of the female agnates continues only until such time as they marry, when, though they do not lose all rights, the nature of them changes.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There would be some lands in which some of these people held rights, but others held none at all. For instance, C would still have secondary rights in the lands of her natal lineage. B would have no rights at all in these lands. R, who was born into his maternal grandfather's lineage and spent his early years there, would have the right, subject to certain conditions, to return to that lineage. No other member of the household, with the possible exception of his
<pb n="77" xml:id="n77"/>
mother F, has that right. R would also have a particular right to the portion of land which was set aside as a marriage portion for his maternal grandmother A and which she had subsequently passed to him.<note xml:id="ftn1-77" n="1"><p>As discussed on <ref type="page" target="#n93">pages 93</ref>-<ref type="page" target="#n95">5</ref>.</p></note> He would not hold all the rights in this plot, for if he dies without issue then the land reverts to the source which gave it, and the agnatic descendants of the donor may then exercise their various rights of reversion.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Reference is frequently made by observers of the Rarotongan land system to decisions being made by the family group and convey the impression that all had equal rights to participate. Just what is meant by the family group is seldom specified. Let us imagine that R did die. The land given him by his grandmother, A, would revert to its source - in this case the deceased father of B who held the title at the time the land was given to A. Who would decide its reallocation? The participation of each member of the household would not be at all equal. Those who were not descended from the father of B would have no say at all; the children would have no say on account of their age, though particular adults would no doubt uphold their interests; A would have a special role as the person to whom the land was originally given, but as she is past child-bearing, no longer has any living male issue, and resides as an aged dependant in the household, her views may not be very influential. F would probably have little, if any, influence, firstly because her mother A, from whom she derived her right, was still alive; and secondly because, whereas her mother was the first-born daughter of a chief of <hi rend="u">this</hi> lineage, F was the daughter of a chief of another lineage. If she were to get marriage lands (which is most unlikely since she is living
<pb n="78" xml:id="n78"/>
in her mother's lineage) she would derive them from her father's lineage. As chief and household head, the influence of B would be considerable, but so also might that of his younger brothers who reside in nearby households.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The above description sets out only a few of the rights held within the household concerned. A fully itemized account of all the individual rights of any household would be very long indeed.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Within the extended family as within other social groups the rights of the component individuals were differentiated by a system of priorities which gave precedence to males over females, to titleholders over commoners, to older over younger siblings, to residents over absentees, to earlier claimants over later ones, to agnates over cognates, and to agnates over affines.<note xml:id="ftn1-78" n="1"><p>These criteria were reinforced by the concepts of mana (broadly ‘power’) and tapu (broadly ‘sanctity’) such that, other things being equal, those persons whose descent was traced through lines of males, and through generations of first-born sons, and supported by centuries of occupation of the same area of land were possessed of the greatest degrees of both mana and tapu, and those whose connections were traced through females, through junior siblings, and from persons living elsewhere were possessed of the least of these qualities.</p></note> Such priorities, which rest on preferences for masculinity, temporal precedence and local residence, were not invariably adhered to, but were sometimes modified in relation to personal qualities and particular circumstances. Furthermore, the nature of the rights differed according to whether they related to taro swamps, unused agricultural land, house sites, or forest land. Within this framework allowance was made for personal effort and provided an individual planted on land to which he held an appropriate right the subsequent crop belonged to him, though subject to his obligations to his household, his lineage and his kindred.</p>
            <pb n="79" xml:id="n79"/>
            <p rend="indent">Individual rights to self-propagated crops are not clear from the source material and we must rely on present-day information and practice. The fruits of the wild plantain (musa fehi), which grows in dense clumps at the head of almost every valley on the island, is said to have been the common property of the minor lineage. A prohibition was imposed on the gathering of the crop until a sufficient quantity was considered to be ripe, at which time the prohibition was lifted and the harvesting was made a festive occasion. Secondary and contingent members of the owning lineage could come and join in the party and it was customary to send a bunch to those who did not come. This practice is still observed in some areas.<note xml:id="ftn1-79" n="1"><p>Some lineages today even go so far as to advertise the ra'ui and its opening in the daily press - e.g. <hi rend="u">Cook Islands News</hi> 15.12.<date when="1959">1959</date> re the opening of the prohibition on plantains in the Takuvaine valley.</p></note> On subsequent occasions only members of the local group could collect the fruit, though relatives who requested access to it could hardly be declined. The less important wild fruits are today harvested with little regard for rights of ownership in the lands on which they grow, but informants were of the opinion that under Maori<note xml:id="ftn2-79" n="2"><p>As noted in the Glossary, the term ‘Maori’ is used here to refer to the indigenous people of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>, not those of the mainland of New Zealand.</p></note> custom such products were reserved for members of the matakeinanga occupying the tapere in which they grew, and in some instances to particular sub-groups within it.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The rights of any individual were clearly dependent on his or her status within, or relationship to, particular social groups, and no individual could hold or exercise any land rights except as a function of his membership of a social group. An individual's connection with any particular
<pb n="80" xml:id="n80"/>
portion of land and with the descent group to which that land belonged fell into one of the following four categories.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Firstly there were the rights of primary members of the lineage or other descent group, whose rights to the land will be referred to as <hi rend="u">primary</hi> rights, i.e. they could plant and harvest as of right. While an individual normally held primary rights in one lineage only, affiliation was not invariably so clear-cut. It was not uncommon to provide for a relative (particularly a child) for a period without adopting it fully, and such a person could drift between agnatic kin and matrikin or pay prolonged visits which might or might not become permanent. During such periods of transition one could exercise certain rights as a primary rightholder in two lineages. Sooner or later, and generally in the event of marriage, one would be forced to opt for the one or the other, though it is conceivable that in rare instances primary rights could be held in two lineages. Such an instance occurred in the early nineteenth century as a result of the inheritance of a rangatira title through the maternal line, and later the inheritance of an ariki title through the paternal line, due to a combination of unusual demographic and political circumstances.<note xml:id="ftn1-80" n="1"><p>MB 21:147–50 NLC.</p></note> Such a state of affairs could not last indefinitely, for either the lesser title was absorbed by the greater and the lineages accordingly became one, or the lesser title was given to a son or other relative and the separate identity of the two lineages restored.<note xml:id="ftn2-80" n="2"><p>In the instance involving two mataiapo titles as illustrated by <ref type="figure" target="#CroLan-f004">diagram</ref> on <ref type="page" target="#n59">page 59</ref> above, the two titles were first given to two sons with the obvious intention of maintaining the separate identity of the lineages, but due to the untimely death of the junior titleholder, the senior holder then amalgamated the lineages. During the nineteenth century (later than the period shown on the genealogy) the amalgamated lineage again split and two separate titleholders were</p></note></p>
            <pb n="81" xml:id="n81"/>
            <p rend="indent">Next there were the rights of contingent members of a lineage whose right to plant and harvest the lands of their natal lineages was contingent on return there or on express permission. Their rights to the lineage lands will be referred to as <hi rend="u">contingent</hi> rights.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Thirdly, there were the rights of secondary members of the lineage (i.e. the children of contingent members). We will speak of their rights to land as <hi rend="u">secondary</hi> rights, for while it was generally accepted that they would be admitted to that lineage if they wished to join it, and could thereby gain primary membership of it, they did not under normal circumstances plant there while residing in another lineage. To a lesser degree, the children of secondary members of a lineage were themselves secondary members, and they also had a potential, but markedly weaker, right to the land. They will be referred to as <hi rend="u">distant secondary</hi> rights. In the event of dire necessity there was no limit to the lengths one could trace secondary affiliations of this sort, but in practice they were seldom revived to the extent of exercising land rights.<note xml:id="ftn1-81" n="1"><p>The fact of ‘belonging’ to a lineage was for secondary members more in the nature of an idiom of kinship and its obligations and responsibilities, than it was a recognition of land rights.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Fourthly, there were the permissive members of the lineage, whose rights to the land will be spoken of as <hi rend="u">permissive</hi> rights. Such rights could not be transmitted and their maximum duration was accordingly the life-time of the holder.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A distinction may be drawn between proprietary rights in the land on the one hand, and rights to its usufruct on the other. Proprietary rights were held by the various descent groups, and as entry to any of these groups could only be acquired by descent or adoption, these rights were
<pb n="82" xml:id="n82"/>
held by primary, contingent and secondary members of the groups concerned (the status of permissive members was such that they did not have any proprietary rights). Usufructuary rights (with the exception of land set aside for special purposes such as marriage lands, and rights to festive harvesting of self-propagated crops like plantains) were exercised only by persons resident in the area - the primary and permissive members of the groups concerned. Only the primary members held both proprietary and usufructuary rights concurrently.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Women were not eligible as heads of any social groups and accordingly they could not exercise such rights as were vested in rank titles. As a member of a household, every woman shared a joint use-right with the other residents and as a member of a descent group she held proprietary rights in that group's lands. Those women who did not themselves exercise primary rights in their lineage lands were nevertheless frequently the channel through which males acquired their rights. In the event of adoption or of there being no resident sons to inherit land rights, these often passed to grandsons through a daughter. The frequency of such a pattern of inheritance is not known, but natural causes and the extent of warfare must frequently have resulted in the loss of direct male heirs.<note xml:id="ftn1-82" n="1"><p>Maretu claims that 730 people were killed in the wars between Takitumu and Avarua in the second decade of the nineteenth century. - MS 19. This is possibly an exaggerated figure, but available descriptions of the wars indicate that the losses must have been considerable.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">A widow was often allowed to remain in her husband's household after his death, and if she had adult sons this seems to have been the normal pattern. Having no blood right in the household, her continued residence was by permission and not as of right. Williams mentions that
<pb n="83" xml:id="n83"/>
widows and their children were evicted on the death of the husband, and though this no doubt occurred in some cases - such as when the wife had been unpopular or childless, or had only young children - it does not seem to have been the rule.<note xml:id="ftn1-83" n="1"><p>Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 139. In the normal course of events the heir to the headship of the family would be the widow's own son who would have acquired rights from his deceased father. In view of the predominantly patrilocal pattern of residence removal from the family cannot have been the norm. Present-day informants say that if a woman was childless, or if she had only young children, it was customary for her to return to her born family, and this is confirmed by Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 331.</p></note> The levirate was quite commonly practised,<note xml:id="ftn2-83" n="2"><p>See e.g. Savage, ‘Iro Nui Ma Oata’ 58.</p></note> and accordingly the number of women who resumed land rights in their natal lineages due to death of their spouses was probably quite a small proportion of the total.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="84" xml:id="n84"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="4" xml:id="c4">
          <head>Chapter 5<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Acquisition and Loss of Rights to Land</hi></head>
          <div type="section" xml:id="c4-0">
            <p rend="indent">The following discussion of the means by which land rights were acquired in pre-contact times will provide a baseline for later comparison with the processes operating at various stages of the post-contact period. Presumably the landholding system was not static during the pre-contact era, and any reference to a custom existing in that era should (unless the context indicates otherwise) be taken to mean that it was effective at the time of first European contact, and not necessarily that it had applied from the time of first settlement.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c4-1">
            <head>By discovery and settlement</head>
            <p rend="indent">It was by this means that the first settlers obtained possession of the island. How they subdivided and exploited their lands is no longer known. However, tradition records that they came from somewhere in the area now known as French Polynesia, and it is therefore likely that they brought with them a system of land tenure which fell within the same broad category as that brought by the later migrants from the same culture area.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Lands thus acquired could be retained only so long as no other settlers arrived, or if they did, then only so long as the lands could be defended. From what little is known of this very early phase, it seems that the original colonists were successful in retaining considerable segments of the island despite competition from later migrants. With the advent of Tangiia and Karika, however, they
<pb n="85" xml:id="n85"/>
relinquished a large proportion of their land rights along with their political sovereignty, and during the Tangiia-Karika regime, the whole island was formally parcelled out to one chief or another. No longer could land rights be acquired by the simple expedient of discovery and settlement alone.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c4-2">
            <head>By conquest</head>
            <p rend="indent">Throughout the pre-contact era, conquest constituted the ultimate title to land; all land being held either by conquest or the ability to resist it.<note xml:id="ftn1-85" n="1"><p>In all the records of pre-contact battles in the vernacular source material there are few indeed wherein a land dispute is given as the cause of the outbreak. The most common causes were disputes over rank titles (which, of course, carried certain land rights with them), insults, and actual or attempted adultery with the wives of chiefs. Nevertheless, it is clear that the acquisition of land was often an important motive for warfare, and that the exchange of insults was the appropriate provocation to justify the commencement of hostilities.</p></note> The act of conquest resulted in the transfer of the land rights of the conquered in that particular area to the hands of the victors, who subsequently dealt with them in one of the following four ways.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Firstly they could retain the rights permanently, and in the cases where the defeated party were exterminated this was invariably the case. The conquerors usually divided the lands among themselves, and settled some of their number there, for empty lands were liable to be settled by someone, and the surest way to retain title was to occupy.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Not infrequently, however, the losing party fled rather than risk extermination, and sought asylum in some lineage in another area (if possible, one to which they could claim relationship).<note xml:id="ftn2-85" n="2"><p>Frequently the accounts do not give sufficient detail to determine whether or not the refugees sought out kin in their search for asylum. In many cases, however, the fact of relationship is stated, but in no case is there evidence to the effect that the refugee and the host were unrelated. It seems probable from the evidence that one sought out the most powerful relative from whom shelter could be expected.</p></note> They could either request assistance to
<pb n="86" xml:id="n86"/>
enable a counter-attack to be made<note xml:id="ftn1-86" n="1"><p>It was often not possible to make such an attempt immediately, and it was customary to make tattoo marks on the throat and arms as a reminder that vengeance was yet to be exacted. If it were not satisfied within the lifetime of the aggrieved party then he could pass it on to one of his children who was then obliged to act himself or to pass the mark on to his children. - Pitman, Journal 2.6.<date when="1829">1829</date>.</p></note> or they could accept defeat and take no further action with regard to the lands they had lost. When the anger had subsided and a decent period had elapsed, the rival groups often wished to restore harmonious relations, for it must be remembered that the adversaries were generally kin, and that there were centripetal forces tending to bring them together for mutual assistance and family celebrations as well as the disintegrative forces which brought them into conflict. Provided the resources were adequate to support them, and provided effective social relations could be maintained, every social group was strengthened by additional members.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It is therefore not surprising that many instances occur wherein individuals or families which had been defeated and banished were later permitted to return and have some or all of their lands restored to them. Sometimes this occurred within the lifetime of the actual aggressors, sometimes not until the next generation or even later.<note xml:id="ftn2-86" n="2"><p>For example, in the late eighteenth century Tinomana Ariki was insulted by a member of one of the descent groups living in the district. Tinomana assembled a war party and attacked the offending family, killing all except one. The conquered lands were allocated among Tinomana's followers, but when the sole survivor attained manhood, he was given a particular portion of the lands of his descent group, and was later elevated to the rank of mataiapo. - Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 43–4.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Alternatively again, the land was sometimes restored in full, but conditionally. The defeated party might be required to render tribute periodically in acknowledment of
<pb n="87" xml:id="n87"/>
their subordinate status, or they might only be required to concede the point which had been at issue. In such cases the defeated party were not given full title to the land, but rather a conditional title subject to the fulfilment of certain obligations. Instances are also recorded where the defending party, realizing that they could not withstand the assault, surrendered and were allowed to remain in undisturbed occupation of their lands. In these cases, having demonstrated their superiority and received a public acknowledgment of submission (gilded with appropriate gifts) the victors were prepared to act magnanimously.<note xml:id="ftn1-87" n="1"><p>E.g. Maretu, MS 84.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Finally, there were instances where the conquerors restored the lands completely and unconditionally. Survivors who fled would constitute a lingering threat to the conquerors, who would be well aware that if a suitable opportunity presented itself the exiles would attempt to repossess the disputed lands. It was probably for this reason that attacking parties attempted to exterminate their enemies to a man. Thus, if the defeated survivors were numerous, or if they were supported by strong friends, it was unusual for the victors to try to retain all the lands permanently. Conquerors sometimes took the pigs and chattels of their enemies and destroyed their crops, houses and marae. After retaining the control of the lands for some time they allowed the fugitives to return and repossess their lands, provided they showed due humility in doing so.<note xml:id="ftn2-87" n="2"><p>The classic and best documented case in this category is that of the defeat and driving away of the Avarua people in about <date when="1815">1815</date> at the hands of Pa and Kainuku, and their subsequent restoration about seven years later. All their pigs were taken and all their crops destroyed. Not a coconut or a breadfruit tree was left unscathed. The lands, however, were restored in their entirety. - Maretu, MS 18–29.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="88" xml:id="n88"/>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c4-3">
            <head>By allocation and occupation within the landholding group</head>
            <p rend="indent">Initially, having assumed supremacy over the island, the people of Tangiia's time may be said to have held in common, but before long they divided out the lands among themselves. Following this primary allocation, with its well defined boundaries between tapere, the lands within each tapere were used by the respective lineages as they required them. In the early stages there would have been ample land for all, with surpluses in every tapere, and the nucleus who settled in each would have had ample room to expand and shift its cultivations, for, as different crops required different soil conditions, each family needed several pieces of land under cultivation at any one time. As families grew, their cultivations would spread over increasingly wider areas of the tapere land, and smaller groups would hive off from the parent body to set up their own households. Being separate units of production and consumption they would plant their crops separately from the parent group, and in the course of time the areas planted by them would become identified as theirs.</p>
            <p rend="indent">When divisions were made between the more important families such that each constituted a separate minor lineage, their respective land boundaries seem invariably to have been specified, but boundaries between the garden crops of households within the same minor lineage seem to have been determined by the extremities of the area cropped rather than by predetermined spatial limits of rights. These boundaries seem to have been flexible, and not to have retained any long-term identity once the area enclosed by them was no longer in use.<note xml:id="ftn1-88" n="1"><p>This does not apply to irrigated taro patches which did retain long-term identity.</p></note> In other words, occupation rather than allocation usually determined the relative
<pb n="89" xml:id="n89"/>
spheres of influence within the minor lineage. With the passage of time and the growth of population, repeated use would lead to the boundaries becoming defined with increasing clarity, but even by the time of the Land Court in <date when="1902">1902</date> there were considerable areas which were not associated with any particular household, though almost all lands were associated with a particular minor lineage.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Another form of allocation occurred when a social group with a defined area of land became too large to be an effective unit, or when strife developed within it. Then the group would split, and either one party could ask the head of their lineage to allot them another piece of the lineage lands, or the existing lands could be partitioned and henceforth the two factions would function as separate units. Presumably this latter course was increasingly resorted to in the later years when a growing population forced closer settlement. Partition seems to have occurred most frequently after the death of a metua (the patriarch or household head) in those cases where there was disagreement as to who should succeed to his role. The normal pattern seems to have been for this position to fall to the deceased's eldest son, or, if he were too young, or if there were no sons, then to his next eldest brother. In either case the choice would be conditional on the son or brother concerned being resident there, for the role of metua was one requiring constant attendance within the family. If two aspirants to the position could not be reconciled, then partition was the simplest solution.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c4-4">
            <head>By inheritance</head>
            <p rend="indent">A boy usually lived on the lands of his father, and as he grew to adulthood he participated in the gardening and food gathering activities and learned the boundaries of such
<pb n="90" xml:id="n90"/>
lands as were shared with other members of his household, and those shared with the rest of the lineage. As post-marital residence was most commonly virilocal he spent his whole life on the same area of land and brought his children up on it. From birth he was entitled, as a primary member of the group, to sustenance from the land; and provided he did not leave the family to live elsewhere, this right continued throughout his lifetime. His rights in the lands occupied by his household were usually not to specific portions, but rather to a share in the use and administration of the lands, for as the household functioned as the elementary production and consumption unit, many of his rights and obligations in respect to the use of family lands were exercised in common.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It is necessary to distinguish between proprietary rights which were acquired by inheritance and rights which existed merely as a by-product of one's residence in the household. The latter (those of wives and other permissive members) were never more than conditional rights of use. In so far as land use was concerned, it could be said that the living members of the household succeeded in common to the rights in common of those who died or left the family. Perhaps the most appropriate description is that attributed to an African chief who said ‘We conceive of the land as belonging to a vast family, many of whom are dead, a few of whom are living, and countless members of which are yet unborn’.<note xml:id="ftn1-90" n="1"><p>Meek, <hi rend="u">Land Law and Custom in the Colonies</hi>, epigraph.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The administration of the lands of the household centred on the senior resident male member, though an aged family head could retire and pass the responsibilities on to his successor - usually his eldest son. It was presumably at the level of the minor lineage that the most common read-justments in land rights of the component groups were made
<pb n="91" xml:id="n91"/>
in accordance with the changing needs of constituent families. The administration of lands at the major lineage and tribal levels was likewise vested in the respective titleholders, though this is not meant to imply an autocratic power, for at all levels there was a tradition of consultation with the heads of component sub-groups before any important decisions were taken.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Wills<note xml:id="ftn1-91" n="1"><p>The indigenous term is ‘reo iku’.</p></note> were often made regarding the disposition of land rights. Ideally they were made from the death-bed, all primary and contingent members of the lineage being present, as well as the titleholder. At the burial, the will of the deceased was made known to the assembled elders, and either ratified or modified.<note xml:id="ftn2-91" n="2"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Life…</hi> 77.</p></note> The necessity for a will to be made public was clearly stated in the laws of Rarotonga which were made shortly after the arrival of the missionaries.<note xml:id="ftn3-91" n="3"><p>‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 14. These laws, ostensibly made by the ‘King and chiefs’ were greatly influenced by the English missionaries. The principles of the law on wills, however, are in accord with evidence of this custom from other sources.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The rights which could be transferred by will were strictly limited.<note xml:id="ftn4-91" n="4"><p>As a man's pigs, chickens and mature crops were consumed at his death feast, wills did not apply to such chattels. This custom is still adhered to on some of the outer islands, and ceased on Atiu less than a decade ago.</p></note> One could not will the rights one acquired as a member of the lineage (e.g. to bush land, the lagoon, the common paths and water-holes) but only those rights in particular portions of planting land which adhered to one personally. Even then the consent of the lineage was necessary. Many wills merely allocated rights in the same way as they would have gone if no will had been made, though special provision was sometimes made for the interests of persons whose rights were tenuous and who might otherwise
<pb n="92" xml:id="n92"/>
have been ejected after the death of those who had been responsible for them. These included refugees, adoptees and men living uxorilocally.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A woman could make a will disposing of the rights in her marriage land, but the disposition had to be within her own issue. The only other circumstance under which it was considered proper for a woman to make a will was to devolve a lifetime use-right on her husband if he was living on her land. There is no evidence of a corresponding right of a dying husband to grant a life interest to his wife. With the exception of wills by women in the atypical circumstances described all available examples of wills are those by titleholders - rangatira, mataiapo or ariki. Whether the lack of evidence as to wills of others is due to their not being of sufficient social and economic importance to record, or to the fact that commoners did not have the power to devise land rights by will, is not clear.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The only other circumstances whereby one could inherit primary land rights in lineages other than one's own born or adopted lineage were when lands which were given in marriage had subsequently passed to a secondary member,<note xml:id="ftn1-92" n="1"><p>See <ref type="page" target="#n93">pages 93</ref>-<ref type="page" target="#n95">5</ref>.</p></note> or when a landholding group was without direct male issue.<note xml:id="ftn2-92" n="2"><p>In which case the land could be inherited from the maternal grandfather.</p></note> Illegitimate children were accepted as part of the household of their mother and exercised land rights there like any other members. In view of the extent of pre-marital freedom permitted, it is likely that considerable numbers of children would have come within this category.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="5" xml:id="c4-5">
            <head>By reversion</head>
            <p rend="indent">If a right-holder died without male issue, his rights normally fell to those who held in common with him. For
<pb n="93" xml:id="n93"/>
example, if the man had surviving brothers who shared the land with him, then his rights fell to them and their issue. Alternatively, the rights could pass through a daughter to his grandson, and instances of this occurring were common. In the event of there being neither siblings nor issue, the rights were traced back to the source whence they came, and from there to the nearest surviving relative. If no such relatives were traceable, then the land reverted to the chief of the lineage until such time as he chose to allot it to some needful member. As there was no rigid set of priorities for inheritance in cases where there were neither issue nor resident siblings, the way was left open for a number of lesser claimants, and the settlement of their various claims, being so nebulously based, was conducive to dispute.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It is not likely that many whole lineages died out, for if numbers were dwindling too low, new members could be adopted, or the waning lineage could merge with a contiguous (and undoubtedly related) lineage.<note xml:id="ftn1-93" n="1"><p>This may have been done either voluntarily or under pressure. Strong neighbours would be tempted to spread into vacant lands, and a voluntary merger may have been preferable to the possibility of loss by force.</p></note> A lineage with few members presumably had relatively extensive land resources and was thus well situated to arrange uxorilocal marriages and increase its strength by this means.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="6" xml:id="c4-6">
            <head>By marriage</head>
            <p rend="indent">In the normal course of events a woman did not exercise rights of use in her own family lands after she married, but she could return to them if need be, and secondary rights to those lands passed through her to her children.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There was, however, one circumstance under which a woman who was absent could, as of right, plant, harvest and control
<pb n="94" xml:id="n94"/>
the disposition of a section of land in her born lineage. This was in the event of land being given as a ‘marriage portion’.<note xml:id="ftn1-94" n="1"><p>Such land was known as ‘enua tao'anga rima’ (it was known as ‘topenga piro’ on some islands).</p></note> The nature of her right in the marriage portion was such that, despite non-residence, it will be referred to as a primary right. Land was set aside as a marriage portion only when the first-born daughter of a high-ranking chief married a man of similar standing.<note xml:id="ftn2-94" n="2"><p>All recorded instances of marriage gifts of land concern the daughters of chiefs. While some informants claimed that only ariki and mataiapo had the privilege of setting aside such lands, occasional examples of leading rangatira having done so have been noted.</p></note> While such land carried great prestige value, it was not a dowry for no rights in it passed to the husband or his family. It was simply the setting aside of a portion of land for the bride, and, more particularly, her issue. She could use the land herself, or could pass it on to one or more of her children for their use. While the land was specifically set aside for the daughter, the donor lineage retained residual rights to it. Moreover, she still had to observe appropriate obligations to her lineage in other respects or her rights in the land could be extinguished.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A chief wishing to set aside land as a marriage portion was not required to consult anyone though he could only allocate it from the lands of his own minor lineage. The gift was announced at the wedding feast.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Ideally, the marriage portion was not used by anyone other than the woman to whom it was given and by her issue, but in fact it was common for her to allow her family of origin to make use of it until such time as she or her children needed it. While she could not dispose of the land, she could allow a custodian (usually a relative) to look after it for her. In such a case, along with the
<pb n="95" xml:id="n95"/>
custodian's delegated right to use the land, there was the obligation to supply food for feasts when required by the owner.<note xml:id="ftn1-95" n="1"><p>The information in this paragraph was supplied by informants in Rarotonga, who were familiar with the pre-Land Court (i.e. pre-<date when="1902">1902</date>) situation. (Early indigenous sources deal only cursorily with marriages.) Whether or not the details they outlined also applied pre-contact cannot be verified, though the informants considered that they did. While I did not locate any instances of marriage portions being loaned to custodians, Judge Morgan informs me that such instances have been brought to the notice of the Court.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">If the bride left her husband she and her children could return to her own extended family and could use the land set aside for her. Normally though, if she was accepted back, she would participate jointly in the use of the family lands, and unless she or her children made use of it then it would lose its character as a marriage gift and become again regarded as family land. This invariably happened if she died childless. Marriage land appears most commonly to have been used by specific children of the donee. Though they could make use of it while remaining members of their father's lineage, it was more usual for the mother to send a particular child back to live with her own lineage and use this land. Here again, if the child were sent back when young, and adopted into its mother's family, he would participate jointly in the exploitation of common lands and the marriage portion would again revert to its source unless he made use of it. While no figures are available to substantiate the point, it appears that the majority of rights given as marriage gifts were little exercised, the land reverting naturally in the course of time to those who gave it.<note xml:id="ftn2-95" n="2"><p>This view is supported by the comments of informants, and by the fact that when the Land Court investigated the title to all the lands on the island, very few portions were claimed as marriage lands.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="96" xml:id="n96"/>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="7" xml:id="c4-7">
            <head>By gift and permissive occupation</head>
            <p rend="indent">Certain rights in land were at times transferred by gift, but never all the rights in any parcel, for some rights invariably remained with the donors. Such gifts were always conditional and invariably implied a right of reversion to the donor if the donee died without issue. It may be better to avoid the word ‘gift’ altogether, for to the Western ear it implies the handing over of the fee simple of the land. Nevertheless, the term is frequently used in the literature, and is quite a convenient one provided it is remembered that only specific rights were given, and on specific conditions.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Gifts were given for a particular period of time - either the lifetime of the donee, or the period of his residence in the district, or for such period as he and his issue wished to occupy the land. If the time specified was a lifetime then the land reverted to its source on the death of the donee. If, on the other hand, the gift were given to the donee and his issue for so long as they might wish to use the land (and this was the widest form of gift given) then, of course, the donees' right would strengthen over time, for, provided it was used, they retained their right in perpetuity.<note xml:id="ftn1-96" n="1"><p>Such rights were given ‘tuatau ua atu’. While this phrase is usually translated as ‘for ever and ever’, it may be more faithfully interpreted as ‘from this time onward’, implying ‘as far as we can see’. The connotation is one of indefiniteness rather than irrevocability. Two unstated stipulations appear to have existed in all gifts. The first was that relations between the parties remained as at the time of transfer, and the second was that the right be exercised. Many examples exist wherein a right which had been granted while amicable relations existed between the parties, was withdrawn or challenged by the donors (or their issue) when relations between them deteriorated.</p></note> In the early stages a donee could hardly refer to the land as his own, but over time his rights would strengthen and eventually it would become
<pb n="97" xml:id="n97"/>
regarded as his land in the same way as if it had been acquired by any other means.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Gifts were given either as an acknowledgment of services rendered,<note xml:id="ftn1-97" n="1"><p>Lands were frequently given for outstanding service in war.</p></note> or to persons in distress such as castaways or fugitives. The latter category of rights may be termed ‘permissive occupation’; the difference between gift and permissive occupation being that in the latter case greater qualifications were imposed and there was less commitment for the future.<note xml:id="ftn2-97" n="2"><p>This is, of course, a relative difference. Assuming an element of reciprocity to have existed in all exchanges, the underlying cause of the difference was no doubt that whereas in the former case the quid pro quo (in the form of some service redered) was already met, in the latter case it was still to come.</p></note> Nevertheless, even the most tenuous right, once acquired, could be strengthened over time. Permissive occupation would never remain as such. It was a temporary right, an emergency arrangement to meet some unusual situation, and in time it would either die out or grow into some other kind of right. A feature of permissive occupation was that the donor party was entitled to partake of such of the produce of the lands as they thought fit, a custom which occasioned difficulty in the settlements formed by the Tahitian missionaries prior to the arrival of their English brethren.<note xml:id="ftn3-97" n="3"><p>Pitman, Journal 12.5.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Descriptions of fugitives from war or justice fleeing from their lands and seeking refuge with relatives elsewhere are many. Some remained only temporarily, others remained throughout their lives; though some of their issue later returned; while others again remained permanently in their new location. Usually the person given the temporary right either died without further issue or married into the donor family, and in the latter case he would gain a use-right for
<pb n="98" xml:id="n98"/>
his lifetime and his children would inherit by blood.<note xml:id="ftn1-98" n="1"><p>No instance has been noted wherein a refugee married other than into the lineage in which he resided. Presumably if he did marry into another lineage it would be in his interests to shift his residence there.</p></note> Frequently the emergency passed over, the refugee left and the land reverted to those who had given it.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It was customary for persons holding land by permissive occupation to take to the donor some token of the produce of the land. This was not regarded so much as payment, as an acknowledgment that the occupier's right was only a subordinate one. Such a token gift would be taken to the head of the host family. However, contributions of food were taken to heads of groups for other reasons too: to help in group functions, as a sign of friendship or gratitude, or as gifts on occasions associated with the life crises of relatives. This custom of taking contributions of food and its implications in the matter of land rights was later to become a very important issue, though a somewhat confused and contentious one.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="8" xml:id="c4-8">
            <head>By adoption<note xml:id="ftn2-98" n="2"><p>An adoptee was known as a ‘tamaiti angai’ - literally a feeding child. In the literature the term ‘tama 'u'a’ was applied to adoptees who were not related by blood, but there was some inconsistency in the use of this term by informants.</p></note></head>
            <p rend="indent">The adoption of children was a very common practice, and adults were adopted occasionally. Adoption could take place at any time from birth onwards, though it was frequently arranged before birth. In Western terminology adoption connotes a definite relationship which is established at a particular time and transfers specified rights and obligations from one party to another, but in Rarotonga the adoptive relationship varied considerably and could be established either at a particular time or over a period.</p>
            <pb n="99" xml:id="n99"/>
            <p rend="indent">Adoptees from outside the lineage were almost invariably secondary members of it (i.e. the children of contingent members) and automatically assumed the status of primary members once adopted. Both the father and the brothers of the adoptee's mother were primary right-holders there and could provide land for the child. This would not be possible if the adoption took place from the family of origin to a contingent member living in another lineage, for the adopting parent in such a case had only permissive status in the lineage of residence and had no power to make provision for land rights of others. Persons with no recognized connection by descent were sometimes adopted, though this was much less common than the adoption of kin,<note xml:id="ftn1-99" n="1"><p>With a population of about 7,000 people living on a small island and only very limited contact with other islands, every person was no doubt related to every other. The significant factor in adoption would no doubt be whether or not the relationship between the parties was recognized.</p></note> and seems to have been practised exclusively by persons of rank.<note xml:id="ftn2-99" n="2"><p>This supposed tendency may possibly be due to the lack of evidence about such adoptions by commoners. However, as the adoption of non-relatives appears generally to have been motivated by political considerations it is unlikely that commoners were involved to the same extent as chiefs, if at all.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">While a person was adopted by a particular household and lineage, he was also adopted by a particular individual (not by a husband and wife jointly).<note xml:id="ftn3-99" n="3"><p>This is still almost invariably the case today.</p></note> The reason for this was presumably that although use-rights were exercised in common with the other members of the household, proprietary rights were shared with other members of the extended family and were differentiated individually according to status within the family group.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Ideally, an adoptee's rights were specified at the time of adoption, but the ideal was not always achieved in
<pb n="100" xml:id="n100"/>
practice.<note xml:id="ftn1-100" n="1"><p>‘If native custom is properly carried out the lands to be awarded to an adopted child are made known at the time of adoption…. Unfortunately this procedure was not always followed….’ - Judge Morgan, MB 22:339 NLC.</p></note> It was customary to call together all those persons whose land rights would be affected by the adoption and to obtain their consent. This was done by making the announcement at a feast prepared for the occasion, for it was accepted custom that any person who had partaken of a feast without raising any objection to the arrangements announced there was considered to have concurred in those arrangements.<note xml:id="ftn2-100" n="2"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:23. This is still generally the case today.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Frequently one or two special portions of land were set aside for the adoptee and his issue for so long as they lived and used the land. The adoptee would be brought up by the family which had adopted him, but once he reached maturity he could either remain in that household or set up a new household on the land allotted to him. If he did not exercise his rights in the special plot or plots allotted to him either by he himself or some of his issue using them, then they reverted to the source from which they came. The right of an adoptee to will land given to him by his foster-family was limited to his own issue. Should he wish to devise it to others, the consent of the donors was required.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Even when a particular portion of land was set aside and used by the adoptee, he could not remain exclusively on that land, nor could he obtain all his requirements from it. The mountain-sides, the taro swamps, the rich alluvial flats, the rocky foreshore, and the lagoon each yielded products which were not available from the other. Most commonly an adoptee was given a piece of alluvial gardening land, and some taro swamp land but this did not satisfy all his needs
<pb n="101" xml:id="n101"/>
and his other requirements were obtained from lands of the lineage which he had joined. His relationship with them was one of constant interaction, and his land rights cannot be regarded in isolation.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Once adopted into another family or lineage a person could only exercise contingent rights in the lands of his lineage of origin. But in many cases the process of adoption was not so clearly defined, especially if the households were close together so that children could spend some of their time with their born parents and some with their maternal uncles and grandparents, and could exercise similar primary rights in both households. If, in a particular case, a child moved between his mother's household and that of his maternal grandparents, and in his adolescence tended to accept the latter as his more usual abode, he would exercise his land rights there. But in the event of friction his right in the adoptive household might be disputed, and if he were unpopular for some reason the household into which he had been born may not want to take him back. While this type of case appears to have been the exception (for most children would be welcome in either group) it probably did occur occasionally.<note xml:id="ftn1-101" n="1"><p>No pre-contact example of this type has been located but a post-contact example wherein neither family were prepared to make adequate provision of lands for the child of a deceased adoptee is given in MB 22:318–20 NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">On the other hand, and this appears to have occurred much more frequently, an adoptee sometimes succeeded in holding primary rights in both lineages, for in the same way that a family could set aside land as a marriage portion for a woman who married out, so also could they set aside land for a child who was adopted out. As with the marriage gift, such land was more often used by one of the issue of the
<pb n="102" xml:id="n102"/>
donee than by the donee himself. Even apart from lands specifically reserved for him, the adoptee normally retained contingent rights in the lands of his natal lineage, and thus if his natal family was at any stage left without direct male issue, or any other atypical circumstance arose, he could reassert primary rights there. This marginal status of adoptees was conducive to dispute, and in fact rights acquired by adoption have always been a matter of contention.<note xml:id="ftn1-102" n="1"><p>The number of children adopted today is reducing year by year and the land rights of the respective parties are now clearly specified. Nevertheless, the Registrar of the Land Court (Mr L.H. Trenn) estimates that nearly ninety per cent of the land disputes which come before his notice concern rights acquired by adoption or by permissive occupation. There is evidence to indicate that this is no new phenomenon, for indigenous histories contain numerous instances of disputes over the rights of adoptees.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">There is no information available with regard to sex preferences in adoption, though accounts of adoptions by ranked families usually refer to male children.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="9" xml:id="c4-9">
            <head>The pattern of acquisition</head>
            <p rend="indent">No quantitative data is available from the pre-contact era to indicate the relative incidence of each of the various ways of acquiring land rights, but in one of the best documented of the early land cases witnesses incidentally name those persons who actually planted the block of land in question during the nineteenth century. Of a total of about 60 persons mentioned it has been possible to determine in 36 instances the persons from whom each acquired his right to plant. Of the 36, 19 acquired their rights from their fathers, 1 from his father by adoption, 5 from their mothers, 2 from classificatory elder brothers, 4 from their wives, 2 from wives of their brothers, and 3 by permissive occupation from persons apparently unrelated.<note xml:id="ftn2-102" n="2"><p>Avaavaroa case - MB 1:107–39 NLC. It will be noted that the above persons were users and did not necessarily have proprietary rights in the land.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="103" xml:id="n103"/>
            <p rend="indent">From evidence given in the Ngati Te Ora case<note xml:id="ftn1-103" n="1"><p>See <ref type="appendix" target="#a2">appendix B</ref>.</p></note> data were compiled on all persons mentioned as actually owning and occupying (i.e. the primary right-holders in) one particular block of land prior to the advent of the Land Court. The data does not purport to be exhaustive, as almost all the persons mentioned were household heads, and those living within their households were not named though they were included by implication. A total of ten names was mentioned, and their relationship to the Te Ora lineage is as follows. Three were persons who held (at some stage) the title of Te Ora Rangatira, one was a brother of the rangatira and another a classificatory brother, three were heads of kiato within the lineage, one was a member of one of these kiato, one was a woman whose father married uxorilocally and who accordingly claimed through her maternal grandfather who was a kiato of the lineage. In addition to the above holders of both proprietary and usufructuary rights there were two persons who were granted permission to occupy by a kiato who travelled overseas, one who was given permission to occupy by the then Te Ora Rangatira (the latter a man who held two rangatira titles concurrently, and the person to whom he gave the permission was a kiato under him in his capacity as holder of the other title), and one was a son-in-law of the preceding. Thirteen of the fourteen persons named were males.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The ideal claim to land began with discovery or conquest, and was then traced by a process of inheritance in the male line, supported by continuous occupation. While the ideal of patrilineal inheritance was achieved in the majority of cases, it is apparent from the examples quoted above that the alternative provisions for acquisition of
<pb n="104" xml:id="n104"/>
rights through females or by adoption, marriage or permissive occupation were not infrequently resorted to. While it was quite legitimate for a person to acquire rights through one of these alternative channels provided by custom, there was a constant tendency to assimilate to the ideal. This was expressed in two ways. Firstly, over the course of time, the actual status of the persons concerned could be rationalized into the ideal status, and an examination of genealogies shows this to have been general, for the early portions of genealogies almost invariably claim that the title passed continuously from the father to the eldest born son, though this cannot so regularly have been the case in fact. Despite the widespread incidence of adoption, therefore, it is unusual to find any persons claiming by an adoptive link more than two generations back; and despite the occurrence of claims from females, claimants rarely acknowledge that their claim derived through a female more than two or three generations back (either female links are later reputed to have been males, or the female is omitted altogether and the claim is made directly from the maternal grandfather); and while perhaps fifteen per cent of all births were illegitimate this fact is mentioned in only a small proportion of current instances and rarely indeed in earlier generations. Secondly, persons who had acquired their rights by other than the ideal means appear to have been secure only while observing due humility or while their ‘patron’ was alive. After that, if their actual status had not been rationalized into the ideal pattern a process of ejection was set in motion and the ‘intruder’ was evicted on some convenient pretext.<note xml:id="ftn1-104" n="1"><p>E.g. MB 4:277 NLC.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="10" xml:id="c4-10">
            <head>The loss of rights to land</head>
            <p rend="indent">A person could be deprived of land rights as punishment, but this deprivation was usually a concomitant of expulsion
<pb n="105" xml:id="n105"/>
from the social group.<note xml:id="ftn1-105" n="1"><p>The actual driving out of the family was known as ‘akataa’ and a person who had been so driven out was accordingly known as a ‘tangata akataa’. The act of seizing his possessions was known as ‘aru’, and that of devastating his crops and destroying his house was called ‘akatanea’. This system of plunder was similar to the New Zealand Maori custom of muru.</p></note> Responsibility for crime lay not only with the criminal but also with his family - a custom which shocked the early English missionaries.<note xml:id="ftn2-105" n="2"><p>E.g. Pitman, who graphically describes the banishment and confiscation of lands of a set of brothers for a crime committed by one of them. - Journal 14.8.<date when="1829">1829</date>.</p></note> At times offenders were not banished but certain portions of their lands were taken away from them and either given to the injured party, or, on the showing of due humility by the offender, later restored to him. The latter course of action really amounted to a threat that unless the offender acted with appropriate humility he would be deprived of his lands. Alternatively again, the lands were sometimes laid waste without depriving the offender of his rights to them.</p>
            <p rend="indent">With the possible exception of rights lost by banishment or conquest, no right was extinguished in one fell swoop.<note xml:id="ftn3-105" n="3"><p>Even in the case of conquest or banishment rights were often not entirely lost, for they may be gratuitously restored, or action may be taken to repossess them. Likewise in the case of gifts, the donor retained residual rights.</p></note> The normal process of loss was by a series of steps taking place over two or more generations. The most common first step was to leave the group of which one was a primary member to join another group at marriage, whereupon one acquired contingent status in relation to the original group and its lands. Unless primary status was resumed, the children of the contingent member acquired secondary status in relation to that group, and unless one or more of them or of their children assumed primary status during their lifetime, then so far as land rights were concerned the connection was ‘cold’. Distant secondary members could,
<pb n="106" xml:id="n106"/>
it is true, be accepted as primary members if the need arose, and they were on some occasions. Such instances, however, were unusual, and were invariably associated with particular atypical circumstances. They thus cannot be regarded as the norm.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The continued recognition of rights to any particular portion of land as belonging to a particular social group was dependent upon occupation by members of that group or by persons to whom they had delegated some of their rights. Just what constituted ‘occupation’ in the case of little-used lands is difficult to define, but residence within the tapere concerned appears to have been one of the prerequisites. If there was inadequate land, groups could probably not maintain for long their rights to land which they did not actively use.<note xml:id="ftn1-106" n="1"><p>Even if a claim to unused land was impregnable to an aggressor it could nevertheless be vulnerable to the humble request of a friend and potential supporter.</p></note> Nevertheless, the challenge to the survival of a right came only when a counter-claimant began to exercise rights by planting, building or harvesting on the land.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="107" xml:id="n107"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="5" xml:id="c5">
          <head>Chapter 6<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Utilization and Role of Land in Rarotonga</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c5-1">
            <head>The economic exploitation of land</head>
            <p rend="indent">Rarotonga is a volcanic island about twenty-six square miles in area; its high mountainous core being dissected into a series of valleys and ridges which radiate out across the coastal lowlands to the lagoon which encompasses the island. The three major soil types follow the pattern of physical configuration: <note xml:id="ftn1-107" n="1"><p>For full details of soil types see Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils…</hi> 7–13. For sketch map of Rarotonga see <ref type="page" target="#n14">page 14</ref> ante.</p></note> the relatively infertile coastal flats giving way to a narrow low-lying belt of very fertile soil lying between the coastal flats and the mountains and often extending up the valley floors for half a mile or more, while behind it lies the deeply dissected mountainous interior occupying two-thirds of the island's total area.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Corresponding to these three soil zones were three zones of plant life, but those of the coastal fringe and the mountainous interior supplied relatively few of the needs of the people, the bulk of the food and other subsistence requirements (apart from marine products) being obtained from the middle zone, the whole of which had been cropped at one time or another, and was covered entirely with either second growth or cultivations.<note xml:id="ftn2-107" n="2"><p>Cheeseman, <hi rend="u">TLS</hi> 6:265–8. Details of the flora of the island are given by Cheeseman, <hi rend="u">TLS</hi>; Wilder, <hi rend="u">Flora of Rarotonga</hi>; Gill, <hi rend="u">Jottings…</hi> part III; Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life…</hi> 240; and Pitman to LMS 29.11.<date when="1827">1827</date> SSL.</p></note> It was in this zone that the dwellings of the people were situated.</p>
            <pb n="108" xml:id="n108"/>
            <p rend="indent">Most of the food supply was produced by agriculture, the principal crops being taro (colocasia esculenta), breadfruit, bananas, kumara (ipomea batatas), yams, arrowroot, kape (alocasia macrorhiza), coconuts and ti (cordyline terminalis). Kava (piper methysticum) was grown for use as a beverage.<note xml:id="ftn1-108" n="1"><p>Buck states that mataiapo particularly grew it just outside their homes, but there is no indication that it had the close link with status and ceremonial that obtained in Western Polynesia. - <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 18–20.</p></note> Fowls and pigs were domesticated and kept in considerable numbers,<note xml:id="ftn2-108" n="2"><p>Early mission accounts refer to a scarcity of pigs, and while this was in fact true for the Avarua and Arorangi districts at the time of arrival of the first missionaries, it was due to the recent defeat of those districts at the hands of Takitumu when their pigs were killed and their crops destroyed. Captain Chase of the ‘Falcon’, who visited the island in <date when="1824-03">March 1824</date>, reported that there were pigs in abundance - <hi rend="u">New Bedford Mercury</hi> 15.4.<date when="1825">1825</date>; and Pitman notes that there were large numbers of pigs in the Takitumu district. - Pitman, Journal 5.12.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note> but pigs were eaten only on festive occasions. Rats and lizards were prevalent, but were not eaten in Rarotonga (though rats were a common item of diet on the neighbouring island of Mangaia). Hunting was restricted to the snaring of birds and wildfowl.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Fishing was carried out in the streams, in the lagoon, and in the open sea, and provided an important part of the diet. Eels were caught in the taro swamps and crabs were taken on the beaches at certain seasons. Fish weirs, made of coral boulders, were constructed in the lagoon. Watercress was gathered from the stream-beds and edible seaweeds were collected in the lagoon.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Other foods were gathered but not generally cultivated, the most important being plantains, chestnuts, roots and berries. In periods of famine after hurricanes or destructive wars, candlenuts, roots, pandanus drupes and even banana stalks were eaten. The main green foods consumed were taro leaves and the leaves of the poroporo shrub (solanum oleraceum).</p>
            <pb n="109" xml:id="n109"/>
            <p rend="indent">Breadfruit, taro, bananas, and plantains were the most important crops. The breadfruit was seasonal, producing but one crop annually, in summer, which was the season of plenty.<note xml:id="ftn1-109" n="1"><p>The two seasons recognized were the Kuru (literally ‘breadfruit’ referring to the season of plenty) and Paroro (scarcity).</p></note> Most of the other agricultural crops could be harvested throughout the year, and there was accordingly relatively little food preservation; the only recorded types being breadfruit paste stored in pits, chestnuts preserved in the same manner, and dry coconuts stacked in houses built for the purpose. Bananas were buried in the ground, but this was for the purpose of ripening the fruit rather than preserving it.<note xml:id="ftn2-109" n="2"><p>Bananas were (and still are) preserved in some of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>. - <hi rend="u">Diary of Andrew Bloxam</hi> 86. No reference to this having been done on Rarotonga has been located.</p></note> Foods were stored against the time of breadfruit shortage (the winter months) and also as emergency supplies in the event of large numbers of visitors for occasions like weddings and funerals or in the event of hurricanes or drought.<note xml:id="ftn3-109" n="3"><p>‘A man who has two or three pits of chestnuts, as many of mai or sour breadfruit paste, with a number of old cocoa-nuts, is well provided for against the season of scarcity.’ - Gill, <hi rend="u">Jottings…</hi> 196.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Raw materials for every need were, with the exception of a few obtained from the lagoon and sea, derived from the land. Most garments were made from the beaten inner bark of the paper mulberry (broussonetia papyrifera) and the breadfruit, while a coarser cloth was prepared from the bark of the banyan tree (ficus prolixa). The hibiscus (hibiscus tiliaceus) which grew in profusion in uncultivated areas, furnished cordage from its bark, platters from its leaves and rafters from its branches. Mats and other plaited-ware were produced from the leaves of the pandanus (some varieties of which were cultivated) and the coconut. While
<pb n="110" xml:id="n110"/>
pandanus thatch was used for god-houses and the houses of chiefs, only coconut thatch was used by commoners.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Timber for house-building and the manufacture of canoes and other artifacts was obtained from cultivated trees such as the coconut and breadfruit, as well as from forest trees. A host of articles of lesser importance was obtained from the land - candlenuts for torches and dyes, barringtonia for fish poisons, pua (fagraea bertercana) for perfumes, vines for the making of fishtraps and a variety of products for medicinal purposes. None of these products were cultivated, supplies being collected from self-propagated trees. Owing to the random growth of such trees, a considerable area of land was necessary to ensure an adequate supply of all products.<note xml:id="ftn1-110" n="1"><p>With one unimportant exception there are no gregarious trees native to Rarotonga. - Wilder, <hi rend="u">Flora…</hi> 5.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">There being no trading on the island (or between this and any other island) there was no incentive for production beyond the quantities necessary for subsistence, for gifts and tribute, and for the entertaining of guests. The risk of hurricanes, to which most of the crops were vulnerable, made food preservation prudent, but known techniques of preservation were limited to the few products already mentioned, and nothing could be done to protect most of the crops from hurricane damage.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Land was not regarded as a capital good and there was no conception of the sale of land or its produce. Line ages with surplus land could nevertheless exploit it to their own advantage, in order to swell their ranks and prestige, by making land available to distant relatives and refugees whose subordinate status made them vulnerable to larger than usual contributions of tribute.</p>
            <pb n="111" xml:id="n111"/>
            <p rend="indent">The Rarotongan people were aware of the different soil types and their potentialities for various crops. Taro was planted in the alluvial soils of the stream-beds and swampy depressions of the old lagoon bed. Most varieties were grown in swamps (both natural and artificial) and necessitated the use of a simple irrigation system of dams and water channels to enable the crop to be grown across the valley floor and not just in the stream-beds themselves.<note xml:id="ftn1-111" n="1"><p>This technique of cultivation, which was so prevalent at the time of first European contact, is still practised today, though on a smaller scale.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">As Buck noted, a good deal of supervision was required to ensure that the various families, having terraces at various levels, got their fair share of water, especially in dry periods. Such a system required organization above the household level (for various households used a common source of water) and would probably have been the responsibility of the head of the major lineage.<note xml:id="ftn2-111" n="2"><p>Unfortunately no indigenous records illustrate this point, but Buck maintains that ‘… the chief who owned the land had command over the irrigation channel and the distribution of the water’. He quotes an example where Kainuku Ariki had cut off the supply of water to one of his ‘tenants’ owing to the latter's failure to provide certain tribute. - <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 250. Presumably this action was taken by Kainuku as head of his own lineage and not as an ariki of Takitumu.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The rich soil and the warm moist climate made growth rapid and easy. Consequently there were not the refinements in agricultural technique which are often found in areas where the pressure of the external environment necessitates more careful husbandry. The only agricultural implements were the ironwood digging stick (ko), and the planting stick.<note xml:id="ftn3-111" n="3"><p>These are more fully described in Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 248–9.</p></note> Unlike the digging stick, which is of uniform thickness, the planting stick has a thick rounded end and was used to drive holes in the soft earth to plant taro. It was also known as the ‘ko’.</p>
            <pb n="112" xml:id="n112"/>
            <p rend="indent">It was probably due to the limited range of implements and to the fact that the staple vegetable (taro) required very little clearing and a minimum of other cultivation that the bulk of the food supply was obtained from this source, as well as from breadfruit, bananas and plantains, which did not require cultivation at all. Garden crops were grown, but they merely supplemented the above-mentioned staples. Shifting cultivation was practised, but it only applied to the less important crops like kumara, arrowroot, yams and giant taro which were grown on the alluvial flats and the lower slopes of the hills. Swamp taro, bananas and the tree crops did not require the rotation of soil or crop.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Planting was carried out according to the phases of the moon, each night being clearly categorized as propitious or otherwise for growth of the young plant.<note xml:id="ftn1-112" n="1"><p>This custom is still practised by some people on the island. While some nights were considered propitious for planting in general, others were considered appropriate for specific crops only.</p></note> The role of the priests in gardening lore, and the details of the system of gardening magic are no longer known.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Ridges and other natural features were used almost invariably to demarcate the hilly parts of one tapere from another. The flat coastal portion was usually marked by rows of chestnut or banyan trees.<note xml:id="ftn2-112" n="2"><p>Chestnut trees are still commonly used as boundary marks, and due to the age which these trees are said to attain, many of them may have been growing since the pre-contact era. Relatively few banyan trees are left today as most have been destroyed to make room for agriculture, since each tree in its natural state may cover an acre or more of ground.</p></note> In some cases rock walls were constructed across the flat land to serve as tapere boundaries.<note xml:id="ftn3-112" n="3"><p>It is not known whether these were an indigenous feature (as they were in <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name>) though there is no doubt that the majority of them at least were built at the instigation of the early missionaries in the first half of the last century.</p></note> Within the tapere the stream which ran down
<pb n="113" xml:id="n113"/>
the middle of the valley very frequently formed a boundary, with holdings extending from the stream to the top of the adjacent ridge.<note xml:id="ftn1-113" n="1"><p>A map showing current ownership of land in Rarotonga illustrates this point clearly. See <ref type="page" target="#n68">page 68</ref>.</p></note> Natural features, rocks and trees were used to indicate important points, the boundary itself being an imaginary straight line running from one landmark to the next.<note xml:id="ftn2-113" n="2"><p>These features are clearly seen in any of the early surveying handbooks.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Boundaries between contiguous taro plots were marked by stone retaining walls which were necessitated by the irrigation system. Alternatively earth-works (motu) were constructed to divided the plots, and bananas or breadfruit were planted on them. Trees, or stones, or a row of banana plants, are often used today to demarcate contiguous plots belonging to members of the same minor lineage and it is claimed that this is an old-established system. All lands, including home sites, were identified by a particular name and each subdivision within a block was individually named. It was the prerogative of the owning group to give or to change the name. A meaning was always ascribed to the name and it is not uncommon for disputants in Land Court cases to tender knowledge of the origin of the name as evidence of ownership. Likewise, the fact that members of a particular descent group had been buried on certain lands, or had marae there, was not infrequently used as evidence of ownership of the surrounding lands.<note xml:id="ftn3-113" n="3"><p>Though examples do exist of descent groups which had been conquered and had forfeited the rights to most of their lands being permitted to continue to use the burial grounds and marae.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Confirmation of the transfer of any land was shown by the preparation of a feast to which all interested parties were invited. Any person who partook of the feast was
<pb n="114" xml:id="n114"/>
considered to have concurred in the arrangements to which the feast gave the stamp of confirmation.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c5-2">
            <head>The role of land in social relations</head>
            <p rend="indent">As discussed earlier, each tapere of land was associated with a particular descent group which, conquests apart, traced its connection with that land back through generations of illustrious ancestors to founder chiefs who were held in such veneration that they had assumed some of the qualities of deities. The spiritual and temporal prosperity of the group was closely related to the sanctity of the local marae, the presence in the locality of the buried remains of countless forbears, and the fertility of the soil from which the occupants of the tapere derived their sustenance.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The land and the society were intricately interwoven. No rank title and no descent group was conceivable apart from the lands associated with it, and no material good could be acquired other than from the land or the sea. The recruitment of additional members and the provision of ceremonial and hospitality so vital to the continued status of the group were dependent on adequate resources of land and labour. It is accordingly understandable that land acquired a considerable prestige value and that a man was ‘great according to the number of his kaingas or farms’.<note xml:id="ftn1-114" n="1"><p>Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 215.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The necessity to defend the land from those who would acquire it by aggression or encroachment necessitated joint action by those with interests in common, and this no doubt constituted a major unifying force in the society, acting as a brake on any tendency for the individual to pursue his own interests to the detriment of the right-holding group as a whole.</p>
            <pb n="115" xml:id="n115"/>
            <p rend="indent">The exercise of land rights carried with it certain obligations to other members of the groups which held rights in the land concerned. There were obligations which functioned to maintain and reinforce social relations, such as the necessity to supply produce for marriages, funerals and other occasions of social interaction, and those requiring mutual assistance and the provision of land for the use of particular kin on appropriate occasions.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There were also obligations which functioned to reinforce the political organization. Members of the lower social orders rendered tribute to members of the higher strata within the same segment of the political structure. Two particular services which every man was expected to render were known as aratiroa (the provision of food and services for distinguished visitors) and arevananga (the construction of public buildings including the high chief's house). In addition there were various offerings, largely of a religious nature, which were known by the generic name of atinga. While particular forms of atinga were provided for particular ceremonial occasions, atinga was also payable to the head of the appropriate landowning group by persons who planted under conditions of permissive occupation.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It is impossible to determine exactly the degree to which tribute was an obligation deriving from the holding of rights in land, though there was certainly a relationship between the two.<note xml:id="ftn1-115" n="1"><p>In reply to a question about the tenure of land asked by Sir W. J. Steward, Pa Ariki said:</p><p>‘This is the custom from our fathers: The Ariki…has his land. Now, he puts that land into the hands of his people. The Mataiapo owns his land. He also has that land in the hands of his people. Following the chief [mataiapo] there is the Komono, and he also holds land, and is linked with the chief - is under the chief. The land is in his hands and the hands of his people. The word about the people on his land is with the chief to whom he adheres. Now, when the chief has any work in hand he sends his messengers to the Komono and to the Kiato under him. Then they do what the chief requires; they bring whatever he has instructed them to bring. Concerning the Arikis, they have under them Rangatiras, and these Rangatiras are usually the younger members and branches of the kingly family. And there is their subdivision of land in their own hands. But the power over these Rangatiras is with the Ariki. When the Ariki has work in hand he sends word to these Rangatiras of his, and they come at the summons of the Ariki, and do what is to be done, when anything is required in the way of food, or so on. That is our system on the land here.’ - <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3B <date when="1903">1903</date>:9.</p></note> No single instance has been noted
<pb n="116" xml:id="n116"/>
in which a person rendered atinga except where the recipient held some superior rights in land in which the donor held subordinate rights.<note xml:id="ftn1-116" n="1"><p>Even in the case of Makea Ariki rendering atinga to Pa Ariki and Kainuku Ariki, this was not done in Makea's capacity as high chief of Avarua, but as the holder of a portion of land in the Takitumu district. - AMB 2:58 NLC.</p></note> Furthermore, the failure to render tribute was punishable by banishment and the forfeiture of land rights.<note xml:id="ftn2-116" n="2"><p>E.g. AMB 1:17.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Non-resident members of a lineage were, it is true, entitled to food from the lands of that lineage when passing over them, or when visiting the primary group. But the right to take fruits for refreshment when travelling, and the obligation to provide food for visitors or passers-by was universal and applied to all persons, whether relatives or otherwise. Such transient acts of use thus had no necessary correlation with rights of ownership.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The status of chiefs was reinforced by making certain products their exclusive prerogative. Turtle was considered sacred and could be eaten only by men of high rank,<note xml:id="ftn3-116" n="3"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Jottings…</hi> 221.</p></note> as also could the head of a pig.<note xml:id="ftn4-116" n="4"><p>Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life…</hi> 110. This custom is still observed to a limited degree today.</p></note> Sharks and certain other fish were also rendered to the chiefs.<note xml:id="ftn5-116" n="5"><p>Smith lists shark, urua and punupunu, and states that these fish were still reserved for the high chiefs in <date when="1897">1897</date>. - <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 12:220.</p></note> The records are not clear
<pb n="117" xml:id="n117"/>
as to exactly which grades of chiefs were entitled to enjoy these privileges, though Buck states that they were formally presented to the ariki of the district, who could give shares to his subordinate chiefs and return a share to the fishermen.<note xml:id="ftn1-117" n="1"><p>Buck, <hi rend="u">Arts and Crafts…</hi> 209.</p></note> While traditional accounts do not state the principles explicity, confirmatory evidence is given by frequent references such as the following: ‘Uenuku [a high chief], and his wife begat Toroa. He was the heir to the ariki title, and he had all the great fish and all the things that are sacred to an ariki.’<note xml:id="ftn2-117" n="2"><p>Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 24.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">An offering of first fruits took place in December each year, on the rising of the Pleiades and a variety of other ceremonies were held on particular occasions throughout the year. All participants were expected to contribute foodstuffs for the festivities, and while the pattern of contribution and distribution differed for various ceremonies, it was usual to leave a portion on the marae for the gods, to render a share to the chiefs, and to distribute the balance to the people on a household basis.<note xml:id="ftn3-117" n="3"><p>Taraare, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 30:137–41.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Within the residential core of the descent group there was a sexual division of labour for certain tasks, though the sexes co-operated in others. The construction of houses, the heavier agricultural work and pelagic fishing were the province of men. Women assisted with planting and harvesting, and weeding was considered to be primarily women's work. Some early reports indicate that cooking was the responsibility of the men.<note xml:id="ftn4-117" n="4"><p>E. g. Gill, <hi rend="u">Life…</hi> 64.</p></note> However, informants were unanimous in saying that this applied only to bulk cooking in
<pb n="118" xml:id="n118"/>
earth ovens for feasts.<note xml:id="ftn1-118" n="1"><p>This form of cooking, known as ‘ta'u’, is still today done by men when pigs and large quantities of food require to be cooked for feasts.</p></note> In-shore and lagoon fishing were shared by men and women, though the collection of shellfish and crustaceans was normally considered to be women's work. The preparation of bark-cloth, the plaiting of mats and baskets, and the collection of candlenuts for lighting were all women's occupations.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While the household was the elementary unit of production and consumption, nearby related households were called on to assist with heavy tasks like clearing bush or constructing taro beds, and whole lineages must have co-operated in such tasks as carrying large tree-trunks, some of which Maretu says required fifty to one hundred men at a time.<note xml:id="ftn2-118" n="2"><p>Maretu, MS 50.</p></note> The organizing (i.e. the assisted) group was obliged to provide food for the helpers.<note xml:id="ftn3-118" n="3"><p>Co-operating groups of this sort are little used in agriculture today, and the last occasion my informants remember when pere vaere (a large-scale co-operative group to clear land alternately for each of the members) operated was in the 1940s.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Chiefs were not exempt from agricultural labour, and were expected in this and other work to lead by active participation.<note xml:id="ftn4-118" n="4"><p>‘Chiefs and all take their portion of work. If any work public or domestic is going on the great and under chiefs are all at their post.’ - Pitman, Journal 12.10.<date when="1830">1830</date>.</p></note> While individuals and families undertook their own small-scale fishing activities, any large-scale operations were directed by fishing experts.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Access to land or crops could be controlled or denied by the use of the ra'ui, or customary prohibition, by the appropriate chief.<note xml:id="ftn5-118" n="5"><p>It is still used occasionally on Rarotonga, and quite frequently on some of the outer islands.</p></note> The ra'ui was embodied in a sign - often a coconut leaf tied around a tree on the path leading
<pb n="119" xml:id="n119"/>
into the prohibited area - and was invested with supernatural power (tapu). The breach of a ra'ui was punishable with both secular and supernatural sanctions. It was used mainly to preserve supplies of a particular crop, though it could also be used to protect lagoon fish in order that their numbers might multiply or even to prohibit the use of certain paths.<note xml:id="ftn1-119" n="1"><p>E. g. Taraare, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 30:141; Terei, <hi rend="u">Tuatua Taito</hi> 30.</p></note> These prohibitions were generally applied when it was intended that the supplies thus preserved be allowed to accumulate for consumption at a forthcoming feast. The same technique was used at times to stop thieving, for the thief was exposed to both temporal and supernatural sanctions by entering lands which were under ra'ui.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The settling of disputes in relation to land rights was a constant problem. Even given the system of priorities for the allocation of rights, and of conditions for their retention and loss, rival claimants did not always agree on the relative merits of their claims, and a tribunal or other machinery was necessary to give and enforce judgement in the event of dispute. This aspect of the tenure system was but little developed, and was probably its greatest weakness, being detrimental both to social stability and volume of production.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Differences could be handled by negotiation between the parties, by reference to a higher authority, or by fighting. As direct trial of strength was always possible, negotiations must have been made with an eye to the probable outcome if warfare were finally resorted to.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While there are many examples of settlement by negotiation after the arrival of the English missionaries, there are very few before but this may simply be due to the fact that if negotiations were successful, there would be nothing
<pb n="120" xml:id="n120"/>
of interest to record. After the arrival of the mission there are many instances of disputes being referred to the ariki for settlement, but it is assumed that this was considerably less common before the arrival of the mission. It is probable that the highest effective level for settling land disputes by arbitration was usually that of the head of the major lineage. Gill considered that the settling of disputes within his lineage was one of the major functions of a chief in the pre-contact period,<note xml:id="ftn1-120" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">AAAS</hi> 334.</p></note> but the extent of warfare on the island shows that settlement by negotiation or reference to a higher authority was not always effective.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Those who lacked the physical resources to take direct action could resort to sorcery and invoke supernatural agencies to punish offenders. The mission so effectively destroyed the priesthood and crushed the indigenous magico-religious structure that little knowledge of these processes remains. All that can be said is that sorcery was practised and that a class of ‘priests’ specialized in the exercise of this craft.<note xml:id="ftn2-120" n="2"><p>Sickness was sometimes attributed to sorcery in retaliation for ‘land grabbing’. - Hutchen to LMS 16.2.<date when="1891">1891</date> SSR.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c5-3">
            <head>The state of land rights in <date when="1823">1823</date></head>
            <p rend="indent">The principles of land tenure described in the foregoing chapters should be regarded as a body of common understandings which, other things being equal, guided behaviour. But variations in physical strength, power of personalities, number of dependants and other factors resulted in other things not always being equal - and the application of the principles was modified accordingly. Ideally, the overlapping claims acquired through the various channels were reconciled by decisions issued by the chief or chiefs concerned;
<pb n="121" xml:id="n121"/>
but no decisions were irrevocable and not everyone was necessarily prepared to accept the arrangements made by the titleholders.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The tenure system was one in which individuals sought their own maximum advantage in the face of two inhibiting factors. The first was the limitation of process, due to advantage having to be sought through the channels of accepted custom, and the second was the necessity to allow for the claims of other right-holders (in its extreme form the ability to resist aggression) limiting the extent to which that advantage could be pursued.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In view of the propensity to expand one's rights, coupled with the flexibility of means of acquiring and losing rights, it is not surprising that at the time of first European contact every inch of land on the island was claimed by one party or another - and sometimes by more than one. Theft and damage to crops in retaliation for other wrongs were very prevalent and acted as a strong disincentive to the expansion of plantings by those with adequate land. Furthermore, with a population of 7,000<note xml:id="ftn1-121" n="1"><p>For fuller details of population at this time see <ref type="page" target="#n45">page 45</ref>.</p></note> living off the land (only 3,700 acres of which is regarded as suitable for agriculture);<note xml:id="ftn2-121" n="2"><p>Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils…</hi> 40. They consider a further 1,530 acres to be usable for tree crops though not generally suitable for agriculture.</p></note> with the whole of the Avarua district laid waste in war;<note xml:id="ftn3-121" n="3"><p>Maretu, MS 19.</p></note> with considerable areas of land between the districts lying idle in dispute,<note xml:id="ftn4-121" n="4"><p>Pitman to LMS 17.12.<date when="1834">1834</date> SSJ.</p></note> one cannot doubt Maretu's statement that of the remainder ‘scarcely one piece remained unoccupied’.<note xml:id="ftn5-121" n="5"><p>Maretu, MS 33. He does not suggest that it was all planted, but merely that it was in the recognized occupation of one or other family.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="122" xml:id="n122"/>
            <p rend="indent">Disputes as to ownership and use were frequent, though historical records show them to have been much more prevalent between lineages than within them.<note xml:id="ftn1-122" n="1"><p>This reflects the fact that the machinery for settlement of disputes within tapere was relatively efficient, whereas that above the tapere level was not.</p></note> The first European missionaries found that land disputes were constant and constituted the most contentious issue that they had to deal with during their early years. Pitman recorded after a meeting with some of the chiefs that: ‘Formerly they used to find some pretext to seize one another's kaingas or land consequently nothing but quarrels and wars were known among them. The principal difficulty appears to be whether the present holder of the land shall keep what he has or restore it to the person from whom it was taken. If the latter be adopted, it is likely to be attended with many unpleasant circumstances. The former at present appears to be the most likely for the continuation of peace.’<note xml:id="ftn2-122" n="2"><p>Pitman, Journal 28.7.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Williams described the situation by saying: ‘Another difficulty was produced by what they call <hi rend="u">kai kainga</hi>, or land-eating, which is getting unjust possession of each other's lands; and these, once obtained, are held with the greatest possible tenacity; for land is exceedingly valuable in Rarotonga, and on no subject were their contentions more frequent and fierce. On investigating this last practice, we found it to be a species of oppression in which so many were involved, and also a point on which the feelings of all were so exquisitively sensitive, that to moot it would be to endanger the peace of the island. We therefore thought it most advisable to recommend the chiefs to allow it to remain for the present in abeyance.’<note xml:id="ftn3-122" n="3"><p>Williams, <hi rend="u">A Narrative…</hi> 139.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="123" xml:id="n123"/>
            <p rend="indent">Land disputes were most commonly encountered in cases where the primary holders of the rights concerned had died without surviving issue in the primary group, and where more than one secondary claimant wished to acquire the rights in question. While recorded pre-contact disputes most frequently involved titleholders of different lineages who claimed the same lands by different criteria, it is apparent that problems sometimes arose between chiefs and their subordinates within the same lineage group, for in <date when="1833">1833</date>, after Buzacott had preached with fervour on the impending hell fire for unrepentant sinners, one of the ariki was induced to make a public confession of his sins. He admitted having ‘robbed some of the lesser chiefs of their lands, and he had placed some of his favourites as tenants upon them’.<note xml:id="ftn1-123" n="1"><p>He thereupon made arrangements for the restoration of the lands to the former owners. - Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life…</hi> 146.</p></note> This he had done prior to the arrival of the gospel, in all probability allotting extra portions to those who had supported him in his recent battle to retain supremacy over his district, and taking away from those who had not.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Such was the state of land rights in <date when="1823">1823</date>. It was not due to any lack of suitable principles by which to determine the allocation, retention and transfer of land rights, but rather to the lack of any adequate machinery to give and enforce a binding decision in the event of the disputed application of particular principles in particular cases of inter-lineage conflict. Despite the chronic state of unresolved conflict which existed in respect of many portions of land, it was not of such dimensions as to preclude the planting of food crops, the construction of houses, or the continuance of the usual ebb and flow of life. Land disputes had, in fact, become an incorporated part of the pattern of life.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n123a"/>
      <div type="part" xml:id="_N79832">
        <head><hi rend="c">Part Two<lb/>
The Impact of European Culture on Land Tenure, <date from="1823" to="1898">1823–98</date></hi></head>
        <pb n="124" xml:id="n124"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="6" xml:id="c6">
          <head>Chapter 7<lb/>
<hi rend="c">Changes in the Distribution of Land and Land Rights</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c6-1">
            <head>New patterns of settlement</head>
            <p rend="indent">The institutional framework within which the system of land tenure described in the first part of this study was evolved, appears to have retained the same basic features for at least a thousand years. Despite modifications to suit particular cultural and environmental circumstances, a comparison with the cultures of the New Zealand Maoris, the Tahitians and the Hawaiians shows a persistence throughout of fundamental forms and themes. It is probable, in fact, that the first radical change in the culture of the people of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> since their initial settlement was that wrought by the advent of Europeans in the nineteenth century.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In most parts of Polynesia the first agents of culture change were traders, but as the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> were off the beaten trade routes, lacked harbour facilities, and produced nothing that was not more readily available in <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> or <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, it was the missionaries who there afforded the most important early link with European culture.<note xml:id="ftn1-124" n="1"><p>The missionaries were preceded by explorers such as Cook, Byron and Bellinghausen; by traders like Goodenough, Hort and Lamont; and by spasmodic calls for supplies by whalers and other vessels. These random visits to particular islands were decades apart, and as Beaglehole has said, ‘… the social change initiated by these brief visits was very slight…it was left to the missionaries therefore to be the agents of social change…’. – <hi rend="u">Social Change in the South Pacific</hi> 14.</p></note> The
<pb n="125" xml:id="n125"/>
earliest bearers of the foreign culture were not themselves Europeans, but Tahitians who had been trained as missionaries by the London Missionary Society in <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>. Between 1821 and 1824 they were posted to all the inhabited islands of the Southern Group with the exception of Manuae. When mission expansion to the atolls of the Northern Group was begun in <date when="1849">1849</date> the pioneering work was undertaken by Rarotongan evangelists. No European missionaries were based in the group until <date when="1827">1827</date>, and though they thenceforth controlled and co-ordinated the work of the native pastors, they resided permanently on only three of the islands.<note xml:id="ftn1-125" n="1"><p>Rarotonga from <date when="1827">1827</date>, Aitutaki from <date when="1839">1839</date> and Mangaia from <date when="1845">1845</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Confronted with the difficulties of teaching diverse and scattered groups, the evangelists persuaded their followers to reside near the mission headquarters on each island. This involved a change in both the place and the pattern of residence. Previously all people had lived in nucleated hamlets in their own tapere, or in the case of the atolls, on their own motu,<note xml:id="ftn2-125" n="2"><p>An islet in an atoll.</p></note> but with the acceptance of Christianity the inhabitants of each island were attracted into a single settlement.<note xml:id="ftn3-125" n="3"><p>Rakahanga may be regarded as an exception, as all four lineages there had always lived in a single village. This was no doubt due to their small numbers and the fact that they all sprang from the same two ancestors. On Pukapuka, the people had since long before European contact lived in three distinct villages on one motu, but there were only two other motu on the atoll and neither was suitable for permanent habitation. Having regard to the small size of the populations of these two islands, and the circumstances of their origins, it may be claimed that they were not exceptional, for the settlements were not unlike the hamlets of the other islands.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The sites for the mission stations, and consequently for the new settlements, were chosen in consultation with the leading pro-Christian chiefs, and were accordingly located within the tapere of the most powerful of them.
<pb n="126" xml:id="n126"/>
These unitary settlements lasted for varying periods, some for several decades, but after a time they almost invariably split along lines of pre-contact allegiance. Following each division, however, the village pattern was retained (at least as the dominant pattern) and the people comprising the splinter group merely returned to the tapere of the highest chief recognized by them, and set up a new village there.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The collection of all the people of one district (who had previously lived scattered over the various tapere) into a single village seldom occasioned serious difficulty, presumably because all the inhabitants recognized a common origin and a common high chief. On the other hand, attempts to bring together the people of more than one district were unsuccessful in the long term, and in no case did a village survive intact where people were brought to live on the lands of a high chief whose authority they had not recognized prior to European contact.<note xml:id="ftn1-126" n="1"><p>In Mauke the people of the two tribes were brought to live in two contiguous villages. By a judgement of the Land Court in <date when="1904">1904</date>, however, the lands of both villages were awarded to the high chief of one of them. This judgement, which united the lands, divided the people, and the aggrieved party removed to the coast where they set up a new village which they named Kimiangatau (‘the seeking of justice’). On Mitiaro there has never been more than one village since <date when="1823">1823</date>, but only four years prior to the mission landing in that year the island was devastated by an attack from the neighbouring island of Atiu, the leaders of the four districts were killed, and less than one hundred souls remained. When the Tahitian mission teacher arrived he brought the remnant of the people together into a single village at the landing-place, but those of each district occupied a distinct section, and their separate identity is still recognized today.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The case of Atiu, which at first sight appears to be an exception, in fact serves to illustrate the rule. There the single settlement is not, and never was, a single village, but rather seven contiguous villages each on its own
<pb n="127" xml:id="n127"/>
lands and each subject to its own chief.<note xml:id="ftn1-127" n="1"><p>Today these are usually referred to as five villages, as the three southern villages, which were the smallest, in many respects function as a single village known as Areora.</p></note> The traditional division of this roughly circular island was into seven triangular tapere radiating out from the high central plateau. Whereas the people had previously resided in hamlets near the taro swamps, they now moved inland to the centre of the island, each to the apex of its particular tapere. There, the people of the component hamlets of each tapere formed a single village, under that chief whose authority they had always recognized.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A more typical pattern is shown in the case of Rarotonga, with its three pre-contact tribal divisions. At first the missionaries tried to establish a single settlement at Avarua, the district of Makea Ariki, and initially they were quite successful, for Tinomana and Pa<note xml:id="ftn2-127" n="2"><p>Ariki of the other two districts.</p></note> and a number of their followers came to reside there. Makea arranged the allocation of land for the various groups to build on, though the terms on which the lands were made available are not known.<note xml:id="ftn3-127" n="3"><p>Maretu, MS 65. The village only lasted for three years.</p></note> Each ariki assumed administrative responsibility for the people from his own district. Makea, as host to the people of the other districts, at times attempted to assert authority over the whole populace, but this was keenly resented and remained a constant threat to the stability of the new settlement.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A church and mission station were built, and though all parties co-operated in these projects, each district undertook specific aspects of the work. In the early stages the people of Avarua fed the visitors, in accordance with custom. However, the numbers were so great that food
<pb n="128" xml:id="n128"/>
supplies soon ran short and the visitors began returning to their own lands every day or so to collect food.<note xml:id="ftn1-128" n="1"><p>The Avarua district had only been reoccupied the previous year following the devastation of its food crops by Takitumu. See <ref type="page" target="#n87">page 87</ref> <ref target="#ftn2-87">footnote 2</ref>.</p></note> As the novelty of the new situation wore off, people spent more of their time back in their own tapere, and some even returned there permanently.<note xml:id="ftn2-128" n="2"><p>The same problem arose when the settlement later shifted to Ngatangiia. Pitman considered this to be one of the most cogent reasons for having a separate settlement in each district and says: ‘The natives had to fetch their food from Avarua to this place [Ngatangiia] every day, consequently they could not attend to instructions unless they neglected their lands.’ - Pitman to LMS 6.11.<date when="1827">1827</date> SSL.</p></note> The Tahitian missionaries were allotted taro patches and the ariki organized labour to clear and plant them.<note xml:id="ftn3-128" n="3"><p>For a detailed description see Maretu, MS 88–91.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Rifts soon appeared in the organization of the mission settlement. It had been intended that the ariki would confer on matters of common interest, but, owing to the status struggle between them, no long-term unity was effected. Only the strong personalities of the teachers and the promise of great rewards from Jehovah held the community together. Lacking cohesive leadership at the top, the three tribal power structures were inadequately knit, and when the balance of power shifted in favour of the Takitumu chiefs the whole settlement moved to Ngatangiia, though it was not long before many people returned to Avarua.<note xml:id="ftn4-128" n="4"><p>Ibid. 99–103.</p></note> In <date when="1827">1827</date>, when the first European missionaries came to settle, a further attempt was made to establish the joint settlement at Ngatangiia, but this, too, was shortlived.<note xml:id="ftn5-128" n="5"><p>Ibid. 109.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="129" xml:id="n129"/>
            <p rend="indent">In that year two separate villages were formed, one at Ngatangiia and the other at Avarua. In <date when="1828">1828</date>, the Arorangi people, who had been living at Avarua, got involved in a land dispute with their hosts and left to establish a village for themselves in their home district.<note xml:id="ftn1-129" n="1"><p>Pitman, Journal, <date when="1828-11">November 1828</date>.</p></note> Both Avarua and Arorangi villages were smaller in population and served districts which were smaller in area. They also had stronger authority structures and thenceforth remained the sole population centres for their respective districts. Ngatangiia, on the other hand, divided within the next three decades along ‘fault lines’ which had existed prior to the introduction of the gospel. Kainuku's people never joined the main village, but remained in their traditional home in the Avana valley where they established a village. The Matavera people broke away from Ngatangiia and set up their own village in <date when="1849">1849</date>, and the recalcitrants who lived at the western end of the district and resisted Christianity longer than any others, formed themselves into the villages of Titikaveka in <date when="1854">1854</date>.<note xml:id="ftn2-129" n="2"><p>In the case of Matavera and Titikaveka distance from the planting lands must also have been conducive to the setting up of separate villages. The Takitumu district is about twelve miles long, and is the largest in the Cook group. It is the only district in the group in which the populace live in more than one village.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The next phase was the spread of the villages from closely packed clusters of houses, usually on one tapere, to lines of houses spread out along either side of a newly-formed road which cut at right angles through the various tapere. This may be illustrated by the following sketch map of Ngatangiia village.<note xml:id="ftn3-129" n="3"><p>Just when the spread took place is not known, though informants say that this village was in the compact form until it was destroyed by a hurricane in <date when="1846">1846</date>. The Matavera people did not want to rebuild there and after much dissension finally built their own village in <date when="1849">1849</date> on the spread-out pattern with each lineage on its own lands. After this the same tendency developed in Ngatangiia, though many people had two houses - one in the village proper and one on their own lands. My oldest informant (a man of 84) said that the old compact village had been completely abandoned before he was born. Crumbled stone house-walls and the metalled road are the only discernible remnants left today.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="130" xml:id="n130"/>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="CroLan-f007">
                <graphic url="CroLan-007.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="CroLan-f007-g"/>
                <head>
                  <hi rend="c">The Changing Pattern of Settlement<lb/>
Turangi Ma Nga Mataiapo (Ngatangiia)</hi>
                </head>
              </figure>
            </p>
            <p rend="indent">It will be seen that whereas the initial village was all on one tapere, the new pattern was for each family to build beside the new road on its own tapere. This called for adjustments within tapere but not between them, and the friction which had resulted from living on the land of other lineages was to that extent overcome. However, while this trend was manifest in many islands of the group, it did not usually apply to all inhabitants, as some people
<pb n="131" xml:id="n131"/>
retained house-sites in the original village in tapere to which they had no connection by descent.<note xml:id="ftn1-131" n="1"><p>Ngatangiia was one of the few villages in the group where everybody removed to his own lands and none was left in the original compact village. In most places the original village became the core of the ribbon-pattern village.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">On most of the islands the settlement pattern followed the same three phases: firstly, the compact agglomeration of all people at one spot, secondly, the split into separate villages each based on its own district, and thirdly the spread of the villages to a ribbon pattern such that, while the nucleus of the village remained, many people shifted along the road a little in order to build on their own family lands.<note xml:id="ftn2-131" n="2"><p>Atiu and Mitiaro did not develop beyond the first phase. Pukapuka and Rakahanga, which had had compact villages before European contact, retained that pattern.</p></note> On some islands a small minority left the villages entirely and resumed the earlier nucleated pattern of settlement.<note xml:id="ftn3-131" n="3"><p>These people were usually those least interested in church affairs. Such a drift occurred on Rarotonga, Aitutaki, Mangaia and Penrhyn.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The establishment of villages and the necessity for those who aspired to divine grace to live in them<note xml:id="ftn4-131" n="4"><p>See Pitman, Journal 1827–30 passim.</p></note> meant that many people had to leave their own tapere and acquire land in those tapere which had been selected for village sites. Lands made available under these circumstances became known as akonoanga oire lands (‘held in the village manner’),<note xml:id="ftn5-131" n="5"><p>In Atiu the term ‘taura oire’ was used.</p></note> and though the settlement pattern was new, it did not necessitate the emergence of new types of relationship in respect to rights in land. In all cases for which information is available the lands given for house-sites in the villages were given to the donee and his descendants for
<pb n="132" xml:id="n132"/>
such time as they wished to occupy, with a right of reversion to the owing lineage in the event of the line dying out or the village being abandoned.<note xml:id="ftn1-132" n="1"><p>Re Arorangi village see MB 1:59–69 NLC; re Avarua village see MB 4:21A, B and 47A NLC; re Atiu villages see Atiu MB 1:122 NLC.</p></note> The giving of land to non-relatives under conditions of this nature was not new, though the frequency of this pattern of acquisition of rights no doubt increased many-fold with the establishment of mission villages.<note xml:id="ftn2-132" n="2"><p>While house-sites only were given in all other cases, in the case of Arorangi village a large area was also set aside as a commonage for the livestock of the inhabitants.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">No charge or rental was levied for the use of housesites, though native concepts of reciprocity in most cases resulted in the rendering of gifts to the chief of the owning lineage.<note xml:id="ftn3-132" n="3"><p>The ‘Land Occupants Act’ of <date when="1894">1894</date> was the first legal enactment to guarantee continued occupation to persons living under the akonoanga oire. Such lands were to be held ‘free of charge’ and were heritable so long as there were living descendants. If there were no heirs the land was to revert to the original donor, or his issue, and in the event of the original donor having no issue the land reverted ‘to the people of Rarotonga’, to be administered by the Council for public purposes. However, no instance of reversion to the Council ever occurred.</p></note> However, whether such tribute was given on account of the house-site or on account of the normal obligation to a person higher in the social hierarchy is not clear.<note xml:id="ftn4-132" n="4"><p>Evidence in Land Court cases is not conclusive. See AMB 1:1–29 NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In the early decades, retention of the village pattern of settlement depended on the power and status of the missionaries who introduced it. As mission influence waned, people left the villages and drifted back to their lands and as mission influence waxed, people were attracted back to the villages again.<note xml:id="ftn5-132" n="5"><p>Pitman, Journal, November 1828 and 22.10.<date when="1829">1829</date>; Maretu, MS 123.</p></note> The maintenance of the village
<pb n="133" xml:id="n133"/>
pattern was vital to the mission in order to effect the teaching programme and moral supervision that it set out to accomplish,<note xml:id="ftn1-133" n="1"><p>Royle reported with approval the conditions in the Aitutaki village where ‘their conduct [was] open to the closest observation and their principles and motives inviting the strictest scrutiny’. – Royle to LMS 22.7.<date when="1846">1846</date> SSL.</p></note> and to minimize contact with the localities associated with former heathen practices. The early missionaries accordingly did everything in their power to stop the drift back to the land.<note xml:id="ftn2-133" n="2"><p>This drift was manifest throughout the Southern Group, but did not occur on the atolls with the exception of Penrhyn.</p></note> However, after the church and later the trading centre became accepted and established institutions, and the early problems of living on the land of others were overcome, the convenience of village life became appreciated and relatively few remained on their planting lands. In the majority of cases, each village accommodated the people of a single district.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The missionaries also persuaded the people not to accommodate more than one nuclear family in each house, in contrast to the pre-contact system whereby several related nuclear families often lived within the one building.<note xml:id="ftn3-133" n="3"><p>Pitman, Journal 10.10.<date when="1827">1827</date>. Nevertheless, for some years thereafter one finds references to there being twelve or more in many homes and even twenty in some – e.g. Mrs Buzacott, Journal 4.5.<date when="1830">1830</date>; Pitman, Journal 10.5.<date when="1830">1830</date>. By <date when="1846">1846</date>, however, Avarua's population of about 920 were accommodated in 220 houses – an average of just over four persons in each. – <hi rend="u">Boston Daily Whig</hi> 1.8.<date when="1846">1846</date>.</p></note> This change may well have been one of the causes which led to nuclear families planting separately, for the old living pattern was based on a kitchen, and on joint production for that kitchen and joint consumption from it. The setting up of separate kitchens probably facilitated, if it did not cause, an increase in separate plantings.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c6-2">
            <head>The effects of social and demographic upheaval</head>
            <p rend="indent">Following initial conversion, a state of tension developed on most islands between the converted party and
<pb n="134" xml:id="n134"/>
the heathens. In Rarotonga the teachers engaged in skirmishes against non-Christian parties and were not averse to confiscating lands and distributing them among their supporters.<note xml:id="ftn1-134" n="1"><p>‘…the servants of Rio [a Tahitian missionary] seized the kaingas [lands] of several chiefs and retained them to this day.’ – Pitman, Journal 30.12.<date when="1827">1827</date>. He later describes other confiscations in which the teachers had participated and says that the people ‘…repeatedly told me that it was done by the two teachers…’. – Journal, <date when="1829-02">February 1829</date>. Rio possessed the only musket on the island.</p></note> Within a year or two of the arrival of the first missionaries at Rarotonga they had been given literally scores of plots of land, some from fear and some in an attempt to court favour.<note xml:id="ftn2-134" n="2"><p>‘The various ariki and mataiapo gave pieces of land right round the island to the teachers.’ – Maretu, MS 88. The teachers held ‘a great many kaingas or portions of ground, which were…given them, at least some of them, from fear.’ – Pitman, Journal 10.11.<date when="1827">1827</date>. He also observed that the ‘chiefs as well as the poor people seem to be absolutely afraid of them, especially of Rio’. – Journal 12.9.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note> Most of the lands held by the mission teachers and their followers were later returned to their former owners,<note xml:id="ftn3-134" n="3"><p>Pitman, Journal 20.12.<date when="1827">1827</date>.</p></note> though some were retained permanently.<note xml:id="ftn4-134" n="4"><p>Such as those lands still held today under the Rio and Papehia rangatira titles.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The cessation of polygamy at the instigation of the mission resulted in many wives returning with their children to their families of origin. The children then inherited in the maternal line in the same manner as they would have if their fathers had been living uxorilocally.<note xml:id="ftn5-134" n="5"><p>As occurred with the issue of the first wife of Makea Pori – MB 23:11 NLC; and with the rejected wives of Rongomatane Ngaakaara of Atiu – Vaine Rere, MS 2.</p></note> Alternatively, some polygamous husbands allocated certain lands to the wives they had set aside, for the use of themselves and their children.<note xml:id="ftn6-134" n="6"><p>E.g. Kainuku Ariki, as detailed in MB 1:266–94 NLC.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="135" xml:id="n135"/>
            <p rend="indent">A particular method of adjustment which occurred as a result of the establishment of the villages was the exchanging of a house-site in the new village for a plot of land elsewhere. While it was not widely practised, it was not uncommon in Aitutaki, and occurred in a few instances on Rarotonga.<note xml:id="ftn1-135" n="1"><p>Re Aitutaki see Aitutaki MB 14:241–2; re Rarotonga see AMB 1:18 and Pitman, Journal 15.2.<date when="1830">1830</date>.</p></note> Exchange did not become customary, and after the villages became permanently established no further instances of it are recorded.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The first two decades of contact with European culture were marked by catastrophic population decline. In <date when="1827">1827</date> the population of Rarotonga was estimated at 6,000 to 7,000.<note xml:id="ftn2-135" n="2"><p>See <ref type="page" target="#n45">page 45</ref>.</p></note> By <date when="1848">1848</date> it had been reduced to 2,800,<note xml:id="ftn3-135" n="3"><p>Pitman to LMS <date when="1848-12">December 1848</date> SSL.</p></note> and by <date when="1867">1867</date> the numbers had fallen to 1,856.<note xml:id="ftn4-135" n="4"><p>Lovett, <hi rend="u">James Chalmers: His Autobiography and Letters</hi> 82.</p></note> Although the decline was continuous, it was not steady, periods of relative stability being followed by sudden waves of deaths resulting from epidemics of introduced diseases.<note xml:id="ftn5-135" n="5"><p>Major epidemics were dysentry in 1831 and 1843, whooping cough in <date when="1848">1848</date>, mumps in <date when="1850">1850</date>, fever in <date when="1851">1851</date>, and measles in <date when="1854">1854</date>.</p></note> In the dysentry epidemic of <date when="1830">1830</date> the dead were being buried at the rate of ten to twenty a day in mass burials,<note xml:id="ftn6-135" n="6"><p>Maretu, MS 134. He claims that a thousand people were buried at the Rangititi burial ground and six hundred at Araungaunga during the epidemic.</p></note> and many houses were left uninhabited, ‘all their former inmates having gone to the grave’.<note xml:id="ftn7-135" n="7"><p>Prout, <hi rend="u">Memoirs…</hi> 313.</p></note> A similar pattern of population decline occurred throughout the Southern Group, though on Mauke, Mitiaro and Atiu the losses were less severe.<note xml:id="ftn8-135" n="8"><p>McArthur, <hi rend="u">Populations of the Pacific</hi> 83–9.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="136" xml:id="n136"/>
            <p rend="indent">As a result of these epidemics much land must have reverted by escheat to the heads of the various descent groups, and it is probable that many minor lineages and kiato either died out or were absorbed by others. Absorption of this type inevitably favoured those of higher rank as unclaimed rights reverted to the titleholder next in seniority in the rank hierarchy. In <date when="1842">1842</date> there were more than one thousand orphans on Rarotonga,<note xml:id="ftn1-136" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 69.</p></note> and in <date when="1846">1846</date> almost twenty per cent of the children on Mangaia had lost their parents.<note xml:id="ftn2-136" n="2"><p>George Gill to LMS 1.1.<date when="1846">1846</date> SSL.</p></note> As many adoptees did not inherit rights to all the lands of their adopting parents, but only to specific portions of them, this would tend to further accretions by titleholders.<note xml:id="ftn3-136" n="3"><p>I have frequently heard it said by members of the older generation in both Rarotonga and Atiu that prior to the setting up of the Land Court many people were anxious to adopt the only surviving child of parents who had died. The adopting parents then took control of the land which the child was to inherit, but often retained the bulk of it as their own, as the child was unaware of the extent of its rights.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1862">1862</date> Peruvian slavers raided the northern atolls. Within three years the depredations of slavers and epidemics had reduced the population of Penrhyn from 700 to 60.<note xml:id="ftn4-136" n="4"><p>Royle to LMS 17.5.<date when="1865">1865</date> SSL.</p></note> Immediately prior to the raids the people were living in three groups on separate islets. The majority of the people in two of these groups embarked for Peru, but none of the third group left. The leader of the group which remained behind thereupon brought the remnants (the majority of whom were presumably women and children) to live in his village.<note xml:id="ftn5-136" n="5"><p>Chalmers, Journal 4.7.1872 to 13.9.<date when="1872">1872</date> SSJ.</p></note> The exercise of land rights was further complicated when a ship repatriating Gilbertese slaves dumped one hundred and
<pb n="137" xml:id="n137"/>
eleven of them on the island in <date when="1865">1865</date>.<note xml:id="ftn1-137" n="1"><p>Royle to LMS 17.5.<date when="1865">1865</date> SSL.</p></note> Some of these were later taken to Manihiki and Rakahanga and the bulk of them were finally repatriated to their home islands about <date when="1877">1877</date>.<note xml:id="ftn2-137" n="2"><p>Bingham to Clarke 7.2.<date when="1878">1878</date> ABCFM.</p></note> However, during their sojourn on Penrhyn they must have acquired some rights to the use of land, and they undoubtedly produced offspring whose descendants remain on the islands today.<note xml:id="ftn3-137" n="3"><p>The languages and physical features of the Penrhyn (and some Manihiki and Rakahanga) people show distinct Micronesian traits which are probably attributable to this chapter of events.</p></note> Slavers removed about a hundred people from Pukapuka in <date when="1863">1863</date>,<note xml:id="ftn4-137" n="4"><p>Beaglehole, <hi rend="u">Ethnology of Pukapuka</hi> 5.</p></note> but attempts to entice people from Manihiki failed. At least a hundred were taken from Rakahanga,<note xml:id="ftn5-137" n="5"><p>Captain Henry Richards to Rear Admiral Kingcombe 8.5.<date when="1863">1863</date> Adm. 1:5826 PRO.</p></note> and of these one group of eighty-seven was comprised of ‘whole families’.<note xml:id="ftn6-137" n="6"><p>Wyatt Gill, Journal 9.2.1863 to 23.3.<date when="1863">1863</date> SSJ.</p></note> As none of these people ever returned,<note xml:id="ftn7-137" n="7"><p>With the single exception of Pilato of Pukapuka.</p></note> their land rights must have been assumed by those who remained behind, though just how they were allotted is not known. Only a handful of slaves were taken from the Southern Group, and as these were young men their departure would have had little effect on land distribution.</p>
            <p rend="indent">From the mid-1840s large numbers of young men began signing on as crew on whalers and other vessels. Pitman estimated that over a hundred had gone to sea from his district alone between December 1848 and July 1849, and that equivalent numbers had gone from the other districts.<note xml:id="ftn8-137" n="8"><p>Pitman to LMS 3.7.<date when="1849">1849</date> SSL.</p></note> The selective pressures operating resulted in the great majority
<pb n="138" xml:id="n138"/>
of those who left being young males who were neither married<note xml:id="ftn1-138" n="1"><p>The proportion of men to women at the time emigration began was approximately 100 to 150 – William Gill to LMS 26.3.<date when="1841">1841</date> (reporting census taken). In <date when="1849">1849</date> it was estimated that there were two marriageable males to every marriageable female – <hi rend="u">The Friend</hi> 1.3.<date when="1849">1849</date>.</p></note> nor members of the church.<note xml:id="ftn2-138" n="2"><p>While youths were constantly leaving Mangaia to go to sea, by <date when="1855">1855</date> only two church members had gone. – Wyatt Gill to LMS 6.7.<date when="1855">1855</date> SSL.</p></note> Few of those who went to sea ever returned.<note xml:id="ftn3-138" n="3"><p>Pitman estimated the number at only one in twenty. – Pitman to LMS 1.1.<date when="1852">1852</date> SSL.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">With the decline of whaling in the 1850s the young men began travelling to <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>, <name key="name-006940" type="place">California</name>, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> and elsewhere to seek employment.<note xml:id="ftn4-138" n="4"><p>Re Tahiti and <name key="name-006940" type="place">California</name> see George Gill to LMS 22.11.<date when="1850">1850</date>; re <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> see Krause to LMS 23.8.<date when="1864">1864</date> SSL.</p></note> Before long even larger numbers were being recruited by labour ships to work on plantations and guano islands outside the group. While no statistics have been compiled, literally scores of references show that a very considerable proportion of the young adult male population was away from the group between 1850 and 1880.<note xml:id="ftn5-138" n="5"><p>By <date when="1853">1853</date> there were so many Cook Islanders in <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> that a special pastor was appointed to look after their spiritual welfare. – Gunson, ‘Evangelical Missionaries in the South Seas 1797–1860’ 525. In <date when="1861">1861</date>, 70 Manihikians were employed on Washington Island. – <hi rend="u">The Friend</hi> 19.10.<date when="1861">1861</date>. For many years Atiuans were regularly engaged for work on Malden Island. – <name key="name-025874" type="place">Arundel</name>, Diary 5.11.<date when="1870">1870</date>. In <date when="1869">1869</date> some 42 Pukapukans were taken to work in <name key="name-019821" type="place">Hawaii</name>. – Beaglehole, <hi rend="u">Ethnology…</hi> 5.</p></note> On Aitutaki ‘scarcely a lad [was] left for the work of the land’.<note xml:id="ftn6-138" n="6"><p>Royle to LMS 13.12.<date when="1873">1873</date> SSR.</p></note> The position on Mauke and Mitiaro was no better for in <date when="1871">1871</date>, out of their combined populations of 380, a total of only 32 men was left and as a consequence gardens were neglected and food was in short supply.<note xml:id="ftn7-138" n="7"><p>Vivian, <date when="1871-04">April 1871</date>–6.2.<date when="1872">1872</date> SSJ. Probably a high percentage of those remaining were aged or infirm.</p></note> This organized recruitment of labour was controlled by the
<pb n="139" xml:id="n139"/>
ariki,<note xml:id="ftn1-139" n="1"><p><name key="name-025874" type="place">Arundel</name>, Diary 29.10.<date when="1870">1870</date>. At Atiu, while the high chief organized the recruiting of labour he restricted numbers to the extent of ensuring that some able-bodied men were left to each extended family. – <hi rend="u">Messager de Tahiti</hi> 28.5.<date when="1864">1864</date>.</p></note> who thus gained an additional source of income and personal power.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Within most of the islands there was a drift towards that village which became the port and trading centre. For example, on Mangaia in <date when="1854">1854</date> there were some 172 persons living in the ‘port’ village of Oneroa who belonged to the other two villages, but neither of them contained any Oneroa people.<note xml:id="ftn2-139" n="2"><p>‘Census of the Population of Mangaia’ <date when="1854-12">December 1854</date> SSL.</p></note> Moreover, while the average lineage in Oneroa contained 82 persons, that of the other two villages contained only 65.<note xml:id="ftn3-139" n="3"><p>Based on data in the above census.</p></note> In Rarotonga, whereas at the time of first contact Avarua contained twenty-three per cent of the island's population, by <date when="1854">1854</date> it was the most important port and trading centre and had thirty-one per cent of the population.<note xml:id="ftn4-139" n="4"><p>Based on ‘Census of Rarotonga’ <date when="1854">1854</date> SSL.</p></note> By <date when="1895">1895</date>, when it was the headquarters of the Cook Islands Federation, it contained forty-five per cent of the island's population.<note xml:id="ftn5-139" n="5"><p>Based on ‘Census of Rarotonga’ as at 1.6.<date when="1895">1895</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1896">1896</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">This drift was effected by a relatively greater percentage of persons in the port village than in other villages, basing their claims to membership on customary criteria other than the norm of patri-virilocal residence. To some extent this was no doubt a voluntary shift due to preference for residence near the port, and accomplished by residence with matrikin or other relatives, by living with one's wife's lineage if she came from the port village, or by permissive occupation with some family in the area.
<pb n="140" xml:id="n140"/>
To some degree, however, it was also a forced shift, for strangers from overseas as well as those from other villages married the port town women and lived on their lands, forcing local men to seek their wives in other villages. This resulted not only in greater pressure on the land of the port village, but in a higher percentage of persons there acquiring their land rights through secondary avenues. Both factors were conducive to an increase in disputes over land.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The next phase of population movement was from the outer islands of the Southern Group to Rarotonga.<note xml:id="ftn1-140" n="1"><p>Migration to Rarotonga from the Northern Islands was insignificant until after the turn of the century. Prior to that time the main stream of migration from these islands had flowed to <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name>.</p></note> While this drift was manifest from all the islands, it can best be illustrated by the case of Mangaia, the island from which the largest stream originated. The chiefs of Mangaia had prohibited emigration during the 1860s and within three months of the lifting of this ban in <date when="1872">1872</date> over one hundred young men migrated to Rarotonga. That the migrants came more from the port village of Oneroa than from the other villages is shown by the fact that whereas before the migration began the average matakeinanga (a local group based on a lineage) in Oneroa had contained an average of seventeen persons more than those of the other villages, by <date when="1880">1880</date> it contained an average of seven persons less.<note xml:id="ftn2-140" n="2"><p>Based on comparison of data contained in ‘Te Rainga io Mangaia i te Marama ia <date when="1880-12">December 1880</date>’ (Census of Mangaia as at <date when="1880-12">December 1880</date>) CIA; and ‘Census of the Population of Mangaia’ <date when="1854-12">December 1854</date> SSL.</p></note> Whereas Oneroa contained sixty-four per cent of the island's population in <date when="1854">1854</date>, it contained only fifty-five per cent in <date when="1880">1880</date>.<note xml:id="ftn3-140" n="3"><p>Ibid.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="141" xml:id="n141"/>
            <p rend="indent">By <date when="1895">1895</date> Rarotonga had a population of 1,623 Rarotongans, 282 Mangaians, 77 Aitutakians, 139 persons from Atiu, Mauke and Mitiaro, and 186 other islanders, as well as 147 non-Polynesians.<note xml:id="ftn1-141" n="1"><p>‘Census of Rarotonga’ as at 1.6.<date when="1895">1895</date> – <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1896">1896</date>.</p></note> While some of the immigrants were spread throughout the island, the bulk of them lived in the Avarua district, where forty-two per cent of the population was non-Rarotongan.<note xml:id="ftn2-141" n="2"><p>Ibid.</p></note> Initially these immigrants could acquire the use of land by permissive occupation only<note xml:id="ftn3-141" n="3"><p>There was no selling or leasing of land among the islanders.</p></note> though some of the migrants married into their host lineages, thus improving the security of the tenure of the land occupied by them.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The rights of those who left for overseas were not necessarily protected, and some of those who remained away for long periods found on their return that the rights to many, if not all, of their lands had been assumed by somebody else – generally a titleholder further up the hierarchy.<note xml:id="ftn4-141" n="4"><p>E.g. MB 22:46 NLC.</p></note> In fact, as most of the islands had prohibitions on emigration from time to time, those who emigrated during such periods were likely to be treated with little sympathy on their return,<note xml:id="ftn5-141" n="5"><p>Prohibitions against emigration existed on Mangaia and Aitutaki for many years. – Chalmers to LMS 23.12.1872 and 19.12.<date when="1870">1870</date> SSR. On Rarotonga all agreements for men to leave the island had to be made before ‘the ariki and the missionary’. – ‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 34. The whaler ‘Emily Morgan’ found in <date when="1851">1851</date> that despite this ruling (which they found then operative) numbers of natives applied to be signed on clandestinely. One man whom they repatriated to Rarotonga had a few days ashore and then begged to be taken away again. – [Jones] <hi rend="u">Life and Adventure in the South Pacific</hi> 96.</p></note> and this knowledge may well have contributed to the fact that a high proportion of those who left never came back.</p>
            <pb n="142" xml:id="n142"/>
            <p rend="indent">Moreover, under native custom, rights which were not exercised tended to lapse, and the rights of those who left a landowning group reverted to that group or to its head as trustee. Reactivation of abandoned rights was possible only to the extent that the head of that group chose to grant them.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In pre-contact times, with the exception of Atiu, Mauke and Mitiaro, there is little evidence of regular contact between the islands, and no evidence of any express provision being made regarding the land rights of persons who left for indeterminate periods and who might or might not ever return. The absentees were contingent members of the extended families from which they originated, but contingent membership of a descent group was normally associated with continuing interaction on appropriate social occasions. As most absentees were unable to maintain any contact with their home islands, as those at home were seldom aware of just where the absentees had gone or what their intentions were, and as few indeed ever returned,<note xml:id="ftn1-142" n="1"><p>With the exception of labour recruited in groups to work in particular places for specific periods.</p></note> their contingent rights became increasingly marginal with the passing of the years. While the customary principles relating to contingent members applied to the absentees, the application of those principles was modified by new conditions, the most important of which were that the power of chiefs (particularly high chiefs) over land had increased, and that alternative ways of exploiting land rights had emerged.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It was not uncommon during the latter half of the nineteenth century for a rangatira who departed for other shores to leave his title, lands and people in the hands of the ariki.<note xml:id="ftn2-142" n="2"><p>E.g. MB 15:182 NLC.</p></note> While there is inadequate evidence on which to
<pb n="143" xml:id="n143"/>
make a categorical statement, one gains the impression that in the pre-contact period the appropriate deputy of a rangatira was the person who would probably inherit the title after him, in other words the next person down in the authority hierarchy. This, however, had been a provision for illness or incapacity, while the titleholder was present though not active, and this custom seems to have continued in the post-contact era. Provision for absence from the island for indeterminate periods such as occurred in the nineteenth century may well have had no pre-contact precedent. Post-contact practice by the latter half of the nineteenth century at least was for the title to be held by the next person up the scale.<note xml:id="ftn1-143" n="1"><p>There are no instances of ariki being absent from their islands for long periods with the exception of Ngamaru Ariki, the paramount chief of Atiu who married Makea Ariki of Avarua. He in fact maintained his title and power and made frequent visits to his island to do so. Minor matters were attended to for him by the chief judge (a leading mataiapo) whose authority was clearly subordinate to that of Ngamaru. There are few instances of mataiapo being absent for long periods, but in such as have been recorded, the title and lands were administered by the ariki in the meantime.</p></note> While this may have been due to increased ariki power at this period, an alternative explanation is that by this means the titleholder felt that the chances of regaining his title on his return were better than if he delegated his rights to a deputy who might, in the course of time, consider himself to be the true titleholder.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While at the time of departure titleholders probably intended their absences to be only temporary, some were in fact away for decades and others never returned. During their absence, the ariki, in his role as rangatira, often allowed strangers to occupy portions of the land, and in some instances appointed them as titleholders (usually with
<pb n="144" xml:id="n144"/>
a new title name).<note xml:id="ftn1-144" n="1"><p>Tinomana Ariki awarded titles to Salmon (a European), Taripo (a Chinese), Papehia (a Tahitian) and John Vairakau (a Hawaiian).</p></note> Sometimes when a titleholder on the island died, the heir was absent from the island, and the ariki assumed a trustee role in his absence. Not infrequently, however, the heir did not return, and even if he did the ariki was sometimes reluctant to relinquish power which had been his prerogative for so long.<note xml:id="ftn2-144" n="2"><p>E.g. 106 E Rehearing NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">As a by-product of this population movement, some influential individuals were able, through migration and marriage, to hold land rights on more than one island.<note xml:id="ftn3-144" n="3"><p>E.g. Tangiau who held rights in Mangaia and Rarotonga – Deeds Register Item 98 NLC; Tapanga who held rights on Rakahanga and Rarotonga – Hamilton Hunter to High Commissioner 10.9.<date when="1896">1896</date> WPHC.</p></note> Such instances were uncommon, however, and the actual exercise of land rights in absentia was quite rate.<note xml:id="ftn4-144" n="4"><p>The only case noted was that of Ngamaru Ariki who leased lands on Mauke and Atiu, and performed other acts of ownership while resident in Rarotonga.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Towards the end of the century, when ariki powers over land were at their height, it became common to regard the strip of infertile coastal land which lay between the lagoon and the coast road (which had been constructed in the 1830s) as being ‘under the special control and mana of the district arikis’.<note xml:id="ftn5-144" n="5"><p>‘The Coast Timber Preservation Ordinance’ <date when="1903">1903</date>. It stated that this control and mana had been recognized for over twenty years.</p></note> This was not in accordance with pre-contact custom under which the mana of the ariki over the whole district did not extend to such lengths, but was sufficiently widely recognized by <date when="1903">1903</date> to have been the basis for an ordinance under which one could not exercise any act of ownership on these lands without the written permission of the district ariki.<note xml:id="ftn6-144" n="6"><p>Ibid. The ordinance was designed to preserve the coastal shelter-belt. There was no suggestion that the ariki held <gap reason="unclear"/></p></note></p>
            <pb n="145" xml:id="n145"/>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c6-3">
            <head>Foreign settlement</head>
            <p rend="indent">From the early 1830s onwards foreign traders and planters attempted to settle in the islands. They were strongly opposed by the European missionaries who consistently warned the chiefs of the dangers of settlers and were able to have laws enacted to prohibit or limit settlement.<note xml:id="ftn1-145" n="1"><p>The mission role is well illustrated in a letter from Reverend Buzacott in which he forwarded draft regulations which he had drawn up ‘by order of the chiefs of the island respecting foreigners etc. Will you state if there be anything objectionable in them, as they would readily alter any of them at our suggestion’. – Buzacott to LMS 8.12.<date when="1838">1838</date> SSL. Though most naval commanders supported European trading and mission interests, Sir Edward Belcher says he used his ‘best efforts to alarm the chief’ of the dangers of allowing foreigners to settle. – Belcher, <hi rend="u">Narrative of a Voyage Round the World performed in His Majesty's Ship Sulphur during the years 1836–42</hi> 2:18.</p></note> While these laws were adopted by the chiefs of the various islands, the available evidence shows that their enforcement was usually a result of mission pressure.<note xml:id="ftn2-145" n="2"><p>E.g. re Mangaia see Report of Judge Tepou 23.9.<date when="1890">1890</date> FO. 58 PRO. Re Rarotonga see Teava Orometua to Mrs Buzacott 30.1.<date when="1865">1865</date> SSL. Re Atiu see Buzacott to LMS 8.12.<date when="1838">1838</date> SSL.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">On Aitutaki and Mangaia (where European missionaries were based) foreign residents other than employees of the church were specifically forbidden,<note xml:id="ftn3-145" n="3"><p>Re Aitutaki see Royle to LMS 10.1.<date when="1848">1848</date> SSL; re Mangaia see Harris to LMS 20.8.<date when="1881">1881</date> SSR. A prohibition against residence also applied on Rarotonga from time to time. – William Gill to LMS 18.6.<date when="1845">1845</date> SSL.</p></note> and on all islands the sale of land to foreigners<note xml:id="ftn4-145" n="4"><p>E.g. ‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 21.</p></note> and the marriage of foreigners to native women were prohibited.<note xml:id="ftn5-145" n="5"><p>While this rule was no longer applied in Rarotonga in <date when="1879">1879</date> and was thus not included in the code of laws of that date, numerous references to its existence at an earlier stage are available. E.g. Mrs Buzacott, Journal 3.4.<date when="1841">1841</date>; William Gill, <hi rend="u">Selections from the Autobiography of the Rev. William Gill</hi> 252. One reason for this law was to stop foreigners acquiring land rights through native wives. – Hutchen to LMS 10.9.<date when="1900">1900</date> SSL.</p></note> There were also
<pb n="146" xml:id="n146"/>
regulations forbidding sailors quitting their ships<note xml:id="ftn1-146" n="1"><p><hi rend="u">The Market House, Avarua, Regulations and Prices.</hi> Also ‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ clause 20.</p></note> and banning the introduction of foreign labour.<note xml:id="ftn2-146" n="2"><p>‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 42. This clause was effectively enforced – see Kelly, <hi rend="u">The South Sea Islands – Possibilities of Trade with New Zealand</hi> 54; also Moss to Governor 29.7.<date when="1892">1892</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A6 <date when="1893">1893</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Notwithstanding these limitations, and despite active mission opposition, a few foreigners were resident on each of the larger Southern Group islands almost continuously from <date when="1840">1840</date> at least, and most of these had overcome the marriage rules and taken native wives. This, it appears, was due to the fact that the high chiefs often found it to their advantage to give patronage to a selected few Europeans who would co-operate with them. Until <date when="1865">1865</date>, however, excluding temporary increases due to shipwrecks, there were never more than a dozen Europeans on any one island. Of these, the beachcombers probably had little effect on land tenure, for they became absorbed into the indigenous social system. The traders did not have much direct influence, for they were interested not in the land itself, but in the purchase of what other people produced from it. Such land as they needed for their own house-sites and subsistence was allocated to them according to the accepted pattern of permissive occupation by the high chief to whom each attached himself, and their children acquired their land rights through their mothers as with other uxorilocal marriages. The power of the high chief under whose patronage the trader lived was enhanced by the fact that between them they could, and often did, obtain a monopoly of trade.<note xml:id="ftn3-146" n="3"><p>Every trader for whom information is available had an ‘entente cordiale’ with one high chief or another, and generally married that chief's daughter or other close relative – e.g. Exham on Atiu lived with Ngamaru Ariki and was married to his daughter (<name key="name-025874" type="place">Arundel</name>, Journal 5.11.<date when="1870">1870</date>); Pearse on Mangaia lived with one of the Governors (Exham to High Commissioner 1.9.<date when="1890">1890</date> FO 58 PRO) and had an ‘undue influence over the King’ (Chalmers to LMS <date when="1890-11">November 1890</date> SSR); Salmon on Rarotonga was married to Tinomana Ariki (Governor to Colonial Office 7.7.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO). All of them held land from the respective chiefs.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="147" xml:id="n147"/>
            <p rend="indent">The men who had a more direct influence on native concepts of land tenure were the settlers who wanted to acquire land permanently or for long periods in order to grow cash crops. The first of these was Alexander Cunningham, who established a sugar plantation on Rarotonga in <date when="1836">1836</date>.<note xml:id="ftn1-147" n="1"><p>Wheeler, <hi rend="u">Memoirs of the Life and Gospel Labours of the late Daniel Wheeler</hi> 544.</p></note> Cunningham was closely associated with the mission, so much so that in the early stages he lived with the local missionary<note xml:id="ftn2-147" n="2"><p>Ibid.</p></note> and had land, which was allotted to him by Judge Tupe, planted by the communicants of the Ngatangiia church.<note xml:id="ftn3-147" n="3"><p>Maretu, 141.</p></note> Cunningham's venture was cut short by a moral lapse and he left the group within three years.<note xml:id="ftn4-147" n="4"><p>Heath, Day and others to Palmerston 14.5.<date when="1839">1839</date> SSL.</p></note> No other settler was on such intimate terms with the mission; in fact few were other than actively hostile towards it.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Apart from several persons who settled on Mangaia in <date when="1855">1855</date> to raise stock and produce for the <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> and <name key="name-006940" type="place">California</name> markets, there were few planters in the group until <date when="1865">1865</date>. From then onwards the number of European residents grew steadily until in <date when="1881">1881</date> there were seventy of them in Rarotonga alone,<note xml:id="ftn5-147" n="5"><p>Wyatt Gill to LMS 16.8.<date when="1881">1881</date> SSL.</p></note> though never more than ten on even the largest of the other islands. However, the bulk of these were traders and only a small percentage had plantations. The great majority of resident foreigners were Europeans, though from <date when="1880">1880</date> onwards a minority of Chinese merchants
<pb n="148" xml:id="n148"/>
entered the group and, in addition, there were a few Negroes.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The pressure against foreign settlers was so strong that many who wanted land were unable to acquire it, in most cases due to active mission opposition,<note xml:id="ftn1-148" n="1"><p>See, for example, Irvine to Consul 23.2.<date when="1866">1866</date> TBC; Chace and Turner to Wesleyan Mission Society 26.3.<date when="1841">1841</date> SSL; Minutes of the annual LMS committee meeting (at which the missionaries reaffirmed their policy of preserving all land for the use of the natives) 21.12.<date when="1869">1869</date> SSL.</p></note> and most of the land which was acquired was held by the planter on an informal basis from the high chief of the district.<note xml:id="ftn2-148" n="2"><p>In <date when="1883">1883</date> the High Commissioner for the Western Pacific required that all sales and leases between natives and whites had to be registered with the Commission. – High Commissioner to Secretary of State 15.2.<date when="1883">1883</date>. However, this decree was countermanded late in the same year. – Secretary of State to High Commissioner 24.9.<date when="1883">1883</date> CO 225 PRO. On 17.7.<date when="1891">1891</date> a Deeds Register was opened in Rarotonga, providing for registration of leases and other transactions. Some of the leases then registered date from pre-Protectorate days but, though it is known that many Europeans were occupying land in those days, very few of these were recorded in the register.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Some of those who did acquire rights to land encountered difficulties in relation to the precise nature of those rights: a problem which was due to the differing concepts of natives and Europeans. For example, an American settler who was friendly with the Chief Judge of Avarua asked for and was allocated a plot of land on which to grow vegetables. When he later fenced the land two young men came and started building a house on it. The American's protest was considered by the ariki, who rejected it as the land in question had been the house-site of the deceased father of the young men. The settler thereupon asked his host about a small coffee plantation which he had established inland and which he thought he could sell on his departure from the island. ‘When they bear fruit,’ his host told him, ‘the fruit is yours, but the ground is
<pb n="149" xml:id="n149"/>
mine and the trees are mine.’<note xml:id="ftn1-149" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 74–5. In all probability the American regarded the gifts he had given his host to be payment for the freehold of the land.</p></note> Again, on Mangaia, a European who had acquired rights to a piece of land was opposed by the ‘King and Governors’ when he attempted to sell the land to another European.<note xml:id="ftn2-149" n="2"><p>King and Governors of Mangaia to British Consul 26.3.<date when="1866">1866</date> TBC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Provision for the registration of land transactions was made in <date when="1891">1891</date>. Almost all leases recorded were between foreigners and particular ariki, a few were between foreigners and mataiapo, few if any were between foreigners and native commoners, and none at all between natives.<note xml:id="ftn3-149" n="3"><p>Of the 79 leases by natives to Europeans (there were in addition a few sub-leases from Europeans to other Europeans) entered in the Deeds Register from the time of its opening in July 1891 until January 1899 (the date to which data was abstracted), 59 were by ariki (including 2 by the European husband of Tinomana Ariki), 4 by mataiapo, and 4 by rangatira. Of the remaining 12, 2 were made by the Government of Aitutaki, 1 by ‘a governor and two landowners’ of Mangaia, and 9 by persons whose rank status is not known – based on Deeds Register NLC.</p></note> The bulk of registered leases were for lands in the Avarua district of Rarotonga, some concerned lands in the other two districts, but there were relatively few in the outer islands.<note xml:id="ftn4-149" n="4"><p>Of the above 79 leases, 44 were in respect of land in the Avarua district, 11 in the Takitumu district, and 11 in the Arorangi district. Of the remaining 13, 5 were in Aitutaki, 4 in Mauke, 2 in Atiu, and one each in Mangaia and Manuae – based on Deeds Register NLC. This, of course, covers only the registered leases, and according to Moss the bulk of Europeans occupying Maori land did so ‘in the Maori tenure’ and subject to ‘the Maori obligations’. – Moss, <hi rend="u">JPS</hi> 3:20–6. While the ‘Act to Guard against Secret Dealings in Native Lands’ of <date when="1895">1895</date> required that all existing leases be registered within three months, only a few were registered within the period prescribed and numbers of registrations over the succeeding four years were in respect of leases negotiated prior to the passing of the Act. Whereas in <date when="1888">1888</date> considerable tracts of land were held by foreign settlers and companies in Aitutaki, none of them were recorded in the Deeds Register. – Bourke to Admiralty 13.11.<date when="1888">1888</date> CO 225 PRO.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="150" xml:id="n150"/>
            <p rend="indent">The total area leased to foreigners is not known, though nearly half of the registered leases were for house-sites only. Of the 64 registered leases made before <date when="1899">1899</date> for which areas can be determined, 29 were for lands under one acre in area, 16 for lands from one to ten acres, 13 for lands from ten to one hundred acres, and 6 for lands over one hundred acres.<note xml:id="ftn1-150" n="1"><p>It should be noted that this covers only those leases which were registered, and of these only those whose areas have been able to be determined (by tracing the blocks of land to later survey records).</p></note> On Rarotonga, where most of the leasing took place, approximately 1,200 acres of land had been alienated to foreigners by way of lease or gift by <date when="1899">1899</date>.<note xml:id="ftn2-150" n="2"><p>This includes 929 acres of land for which the area is accurately known, an estimated 120 acres of land which was registered but the area of which can only be assessed, and an estimated 150 acres of land alienated by way of gift by Tinomana Ariki. No estimate can be given of the amount of land occupied by Europeans but not formally leased.</p></note> In view of the fact that much of the land occupied by foreigners was not registered, and that such areas would thus be additional to the above, the amount alienated constituted a considerable proportion of the island's 5,200 acres of arable land.<note xml:id="ftn3-150" n="3"><p>Not all the land leased to foreigners was arable (as some leases ran from the coast to the mountains and encompassed a variety of soil types) but the bulk of it undoubtedly was.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">When Britain declared a protectorate over the Southern Cook Islands in <date when="1888">1888</date>, New Zealand was anxious to be responsible for its administration. The Colonial Office was agreeable to this proposal, but made it conditional on the prohibition of the sale of native land.<note xml:id="ftn4-150" n="4"><p>Colonial Office to Governor 8.2.<date when="1890">1890</date> PRO.</p></note> Following his appointment in <date when="1890">1890</date> the British Resident (supported by other resident Europeans) attempted to promote organized settlement of the group. He initially recommended the
<pb n="151" xml:id="n151"/>
introduction of Christian Japanese,<note xml:id="ftn1-151" n="1"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1892:35. As this proposal was opposed he later advocated settlement by Europeans or others who would utilize local labour on their plantations. – Moss, <hi rend="u">Fortnightly Review</hi> 54:786.</p></note> but other European interests favoured white settlers. A newspaper was established whose ‘chief aim [was] to encourage the taking up of our waste lands by willing and thrifty settlers’.<note xml:id="ftn2-151" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">Ioi Karanga</hi>, editorial 29.1.<date when="1898">1898</date>. This paper propounded this view until it ceased publication in <date when="1901">1901</date>. Another newspaper, <hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> (which ran from 1895 to 1899) also supported foreign settlement.</p></note> In <date when="1894">1894</date> the Resident proposed to the Rarotonga Council that blocks of unoccupied land be set aside for settlement by foreigners and recommended a trial settlement of twenty to thirty families in one area.<note xml:id="ftn3-151" n="3"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1895:14.</p></note> The Council recommended the proposal for the consideration of the ariki<note xml:id="ftn4-151" n="4"><p>Ibid.</p></note> but no further action was taken.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Despite these pressures, relatively little additional land was leased, owing to the fact that the Maori people were not prepared to make the lands available, at least not at the prices offered.<note xml:id="ftn5-151" n="5"><p>In <date when="1897">1897</date> intending settlers were leaving as they could not obtain land at ‘prices they could afford to pay’. – <hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 5.7.<date when="1897">1897</date>.</p></note> In their opposition, which was due in part to an increasing assertion of rights by the growing foreign population, and to the latter's disregard of local law, they were still supported by the mission.<note xml:id="ftn6-151" n="6"><p>[Hutchen], ‘Phases of Native Life and Christian Work in the Hervey Islands’ 14.</p></note> By the turn of the century, we are told, the few settlers who had come were ‘of a very indifferent class’ and only one of them had made significant improvements to the property he had leased.<note xml:id="ftn7-151" n="7"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1900:23.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="152" xml:id="n152"/>
            <p rend="indent">Using native labour, Europeans settled and exploited the various uninhabited islands of the group, and most of them claimed ownership by occupation. Nassau was occupied as from <date when="1877">1877</date><note xml:id="ftn1-152" n="1"><p>Minute dated 17.2.<date when="1890">1890</date>, FO 58 PRO.</p></note> and from that time onwards until <date when="1952">1952</date> was regarded as private property held in non-native hands. Palmerston was settled by William Marsters and his family in <date when="1862">1862</date> and he later claimed absolute ownership by virtue of undisturbed occupation and improvements effected.<note xml:id="ftn2-152" n="2"><p>William Marsters to Governor of <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name> 6.1.<date when="1888">1888</date> WPHC.</p></note> Marsters' claim to the island was recognized by the British government in <date when="1892">1892</date>, though only as a leasehold from the Crown. The firm of Henderson and MacFarlane took possession of Suwarrow in <date when="1877">1877</date>,<note xml:id="ftn3-152" n="3"><p>HBM Consulate for Samoa Record 4 Register no. 927 SBC. The island had been leased in <date when="1866">1866</date> but abandoned shortly thereafter.</p></note> and it passed to other firms thereafter.<note xml:id="ftn4-152" n="4"><p>First to the Pacific Islands Company, then in <date when="1903">1903</date> to Lever Bros. Ltd, and thence to A.B. Donald Ltd.</p></note> The above three islands were unoccupied at the time of first European contact, and though the people of Pukapuka laid some claim to Nassau<note xml:id="ftn5-152" n="5"><p>Though none had lived there or actively used the island for generations.</p></note> the other two islands have never been claimed by any native peoples.</p>
            <p rend="indent">At the time of first European contact the island of Manuae was inhabited by Aitutakians who had obtained it by conquest from the people of Atiu, but the population dropped so low that the island was abandoned in the 1830s. It was thereafter occupied by one European and another under varying arrangements with the Aitutaki authorities until one of the Europeans tried to sell the island, after which time the Aitutaki chiefs kept their own representatives
<pb n="153" xml:id="n153"/>
there<note xml:id="ftn1-153" n="1"><p>Evidence presented to Major J.T. Large, Resident Agent at Aitutaki on 31.10.<date when="1901">1901</date> NLC.</p></note> until it was legally leased in <date when="1893">1893</date>.<note xml:id="ftn2-153" n="2"><p>Minute of 1.12.<date when="1905">1905</date>, Manuae file CIA. There had been informal leases of the island prior to this date.</p></note> The only other island which was uninhabited at the time of first contact, or has become so since, was the coral island of Takutea, which was unsuited to permanent habitation due to the lack of fresh water and the tiny area of land.<note xml:id="ftn3-153" n="3"><p>It is only 302 acres in area.</p></note> This island remained as it had been prior to European contact: the undisputed property of the people of Atiu. There is no evidence of foreign settlers acquiring plantation land in any of the inhabited islands of the Northern Group or on Mitiaro.</p>
            <p rend="indent">On the whole, the direct influence of European settlers was not great, partly because they had no direct representation on any law-making body, and partly because all their activities in relation to land were mediated through the high chiefs. The effectiveness of the opposition to settlement by the mission and the native people was no doubt due to the fact that the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> were small and isolated and lacked large quantities of unexploited resources. Accordingly the number of intending settlers was relatively small and could be controlled. Moreover, the settlers were not at this stage actively supported in their ambitions by any foreign power.<note xml:id="ftn4-153" n="4"><p>A study of other <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name> territories shows that nowhere were native governments or the missionaries able to resist the pressures of large numbers of settlers supported by their respective governments. While New Zealand was interested in settlement, she was at this stage unable to undertake any positive action. At the time of handing over the administration of the Protectorate to New Zealand, the Colonial Office noted that New Zealand had mismanaged its own Maori lands, and that <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> land affairs would need watching from London. – Colonial Office minute of 20.9.<date when="1888">1888</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> Throughout the period, all permanent
<pb n="154" xml:id="n154"/>
alienation to foreigners was avoided.<note xml:id="ftn1-154" n="1"><p>Occasional illegal alienations were made, but these were not recognized by the Land Board of <date when="1899">1899</date> or the Land Court from <date when="1902">1902</date>; e.g. Deed 87 re gifts of land by Tinomana Ariki – Deeds Register NLC; and Tararo Ariki's lease in perpetuity – <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1896:31.</p></note> Certain lands were set aside on each island for the churches, but usually only sufficient for church buildings and grounds, for the pastor's residence and the cemetery. In many parts of Polynesia agricultural lands were set aside for commercial exploitation by religious bodies in order to finance their activities, but this did not occur in the Cook group. Such lands as were set aside for church purposes were given by the owners and not sold,<note xml:id="ftn2-154" n="2"><p>With the single exception of Takamoa in Rarotonga, which was sold to the mission for 150 dollars.</p></note> and they almost invariably carried a right of reversion to the owning lineage in the event of their abandonment by the church.<note xml:id="ftn3-154" n="3"><p>Hutchen to LMS 10.9.<date when="1900">1900</date> SSL.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">One significant by-product of the settlement by Europeans and Chinese, as well as by islanders on islands other than their own, was a marked increase in uxorilocal marriages and a consequent increase in the number of persons claiming their land rights through their mothers. While some outsiders settled on each of the islands, the numbers were greatest in Rarotonga, where the maximum concentration occurred in the Avarua district.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="155" xml:id="n155"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="7" xml:id="c7">
          <head>Chapter 8<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Form and Function of Introduced Laws</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c7-1">
            <head>The mission role</head>
            <p rend="indent">The Tahitian teachers made no conscious modifications to land custom, and in some cases not only condoned acquisitions by conquest but actively participated in them. When the European missionaries arrived, however, and were confronted with land disputes which threatened to develop into open warfare, they set about effecting changes. Largely as a result of their influence the extent of warfare lessened year by year, and from the mid-1830s onwards it became a rare occurrence. Ritual plunder, too, seems to have been abolished by the missionaries, for no instances of it are recorded after the first few years of contact.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The abolition of warfare and ritual plunder, and a lack of formal provisions for settlement of disputes between districts led to an increase in settlements by negotiation, often with the advice or participation of the missionaries.<note xml:id="ftn1-155" n="1"><p>Re Atiu see Buzacott to LMS 18.8.<date when="1845">1845</date> SSL; re Rarotonga see Pitman, Journal, <date when="1828-11">November 1828</date>; re Aitutaki see Lawrence to LMS 23.9.<date when="1887">1887</date> SSL.</p></note> While missionaries were instructed from their London headquarters to avoid interference in land matters, they frequently found themselves involved. It was not only European missionaries who participated in land disputes, for references to the involvement of their native
<pb n="156" xml:id="n156"/>
counterparts are not infrequent.<note xml:id="ftn1-156" n="1"><p>E.g. ‘It is not a good sign to hear so frequently of their complications with traders and with land affairs.’ - Harris to LMS 20.8.<date when="1881">1881</date> SSR; Chalmers to LMS 23.12.<date when="1872">1872</date> SSR; Vivian, Journal, <date when="1871-04">April 1871</date> to 4.6.<date when="1872">1872</date> SSJ.</p></note> While the missionaries usually accounted for their participation by describing it as a search for peaceful settlement, this objective was not always attained. The missionaries were anxious that native custom should be codified into law, though with certain modifications to make it compatible with their conception of Christian justice. Having already made law codes for the <name key="name-032033" type="place">Society Islands</name>, they used the Raiatea code as a model for the Rarotonga one of <date when="1827">1827</date> - the first legal code ever made in the Cook group. The earliest example of <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> legislation to have survived is a copy of the laws of Rarotonga as they were in <date when="1879">1879</date>, which, though based on the original prototype, had been amended and expanded.<note xml:id="ftn2-156" n="2"><p>‘The Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> CIA. A copy of the original Raiatea code is preserved at the <name key="name-000496" type="organisation">Mitchell Library</name>. Summaries of all legislative provisions relating to land are attached as <ref type="appendix" target="#a1">appendix A</ref>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The missionaries who initiated the Rarotonga code assure us that it was based on prevailing custom, and that they merely advised and recorded. The laws relating to land appear to be compatible with what is known of existing usage, though they provided for only a small part of the total body of custom, laying down only broad general principles and in some cases a scale of penalties in the event of their infringement. The relevant clauses are as follows:</p>
            <q>
              <p>
                <hi rend="u">Clause 5: Disputes about Land</hi>
              </p>
              <p rend="indent">If a chief<note xml:id="ftn3-156" n="3"><p>Unfortunately the vernacular version is not available, but the use of the word ‘chief’ in other parts of the law suggests that the original referred to ariki and not to all classes of chiefs.</p></note> enter the land of another chief and claim it, the law shall decide between them. If the chief who is wrong persist in that wrong, then all the chiefs shall assemble and decide what his punishment shall be….</p>
            </q>
            <pb n="157" xml:id="n157"/>
            <p rend="indent">There was no provision for disputes between lower ranks, or between commoners and titleholders.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The system of inheritance was not specifically laid down, though some provisions were included in the following rules:</p>
            <q>
              <p>
                <hi rend="u">Clause 10: The Widow and the Fatherless</hi>
              </p>
              <p rend="indent">When the husband dies, if the widow be left with children they shall remain upon the land; but if she do evil and be found guilty three times she shall be removed…. If she marries again she shall also leave the land. Her children will remain, and the land be with them. If there be no children, the brother of the dead husband will take the land. If no relation be alive the land will go back to the chief or the Mataiapo, and remain with him.</p>
            </q>
            <q>
              <p>
                <hi rend="u">Clause 14: About Wills</hi>
              </p>
              <p rend="indent">When a person is dying let him make his will openly, in the presence of the Ariki, Judges, and many witnesses…. But if a man will a plantation to his friend, and his Ariki, or his Judge, or the authorities did not know of that will, it will be useless. This is the law of the will, and it is for the Ariki, the Judge, and the authorities to watch over it.</p>
            </q>
            <p rend="indent">Clause 31 provided that every man had to plant food crops on penalty of a fine, but the nature and quantity of the crops were not defined. The custom of confiscating land for certain crimes was written into the law on ‘House-burning’ which provided that a person found guilty of this crime would be kept in irons for two years ‘and his land be given to the owner of the burnt house’.<note xml:id="ftn1-157" n="1"><p>‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 4.</p></note> Confiscation was also provided for in cases where a man shifted his allegiance to another mataiapo or ariki and tried to retain control of the land while owing allegiance to the other chief.<note xml:id="ftn2-157" n="2"><p>Ibid. clause 11.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1896">1896</date>, with the guidance of the missionary Cullen, land laws were drawn up for Manihiki and Rakahanga.<note xml:id="ftn3-157" n="3"><p>‘Te Au Ture Enua i Manihiki’ <date when="1896">1896</date> (The Land Laws of Manihiki). It is unlikely that this was the first law ever made relating to land in Manihiki and Rakahanga, though prior to that time the existence of chronic land disputes was evident - see e.g. Harris to LMS 2.8.<date when="1880">1880</date> SSR; Hutchen to LMS 30.12.<date when="1895">1895</date> SSL. These indicate that, if laws had been adopted earlier, they were not functioning effectively.</p></note> This
<pb n="158" xml:id="n158"/>
)was the only comprehensive land code adopted in the group during the period of mission influence. The introductory paragraph begins:</p>
            <q>
              <p rend="indent">There is always much trouble caused in the land on account of disputes as to land, and on account of disputes as to testaments of dying persons and also through land grabbing.</p>
            </q>
            <p rend="indent">These laws were made at a meeting of the ‘High Chiefs, Governors, Subchiefs and Chiefs and the three Land Courts of Manihiki’. For islands with a combined population of only 800 souls, this is indeed an extensive list of leaders, but none of them was specifically charged with the duty of executing the law. All disputes were to be taken to the ariki or the governor and the ‘investigators under the law’ (judges presumably, though this is not specified) were not to be consulted in the first instance.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Each of the islands had its own code, but relatively little is known of their precise nature, for, though references to them are numerous, no copies of most of them have been preserved.<note xml:id="ftn1-158" n="1"><p>See <ref type="appendix" target="#a1">appendix A</ref>.</p></note> There is no evidence to suggest that they contained detailed provisions with respect to land matters, and at least one of them, that of Mangaia, had no reference to land tenure beyond a clause dealing with boundary disputes.<note xml:id="ftn2-158" n="2"><p>‘Laws of Mangaia’ as at <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> Even the most comprehensive codes omitted provision for vital aspects of land tenure<note xml:id="ftn3-158" n="3"><p>The Manihiki-Rakahanga code, which was by far the most comprehensive, lacked provision for the land rights of adoptees, and adoption was a major cause of land disputes.</p></note> and most of them dealt with only limited aspects of the system.</p>
            <pb n="159" xml:id="n159"/>
            <p rend="indent">Of considerable importance also, and frequently of greater significance than the formal codes, were the informal rules and arrangements made by those in authority. For example in <date when="1837">1837</date> islanders who went aboard foreign ships forfeited their land rights as punishment.<note xml:id="ftn1-159" n="1"><p>Pitman to LMS 1.11.<date when="1837">1837</date> SSL. It appears that this ruling was made to control the prostitution of women and the emigration of men.</p></note> In <date when="1845">1845</date> the chiefs of Rarotonga decided to forbid all sales of land.<note xml:id="ftn2-159" n="2"><p>Gill to LMS 18.6.<date when="1845">1845</date> SSL.</p></note> While not provided for in the law, the first man convicted of murder after the introduction of the laws was chained to a peg for five years and ‘the parties who obtained possession of his lands were bound to provide him with food and clothing’.<note xml:id="ftn3-159" n="3"><p>Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life…</hi> 151.</p></note> In <date when="1849">1849</date>, the ‘king and chiefs’ of Mangaia made rules to provide for the control of wandering cattle.<note xml:id="ftn4-159" n="4"><p>Deeds Register, item 117 NLC.</p></note> On some islands church members were excommunicated for altering boundary marks,<note xml:id="ftn5-159" n="5"><p>Hutchen to LMS 16.2.<date when="1891">1891</date> SSR.</p></note> and on Aitutaki church membership rose from 349 to 383 when those who had been ‘suspended on account of land troubles’ were readmitted.<note xml:id="ftn6-159" n="6"><p>Lawrence to LMS 18.12.<date when="1890">1890</date> SSR.</p></note> In Aitutaki, too, Moss found that an informally constituted body was not only making rules, but levying fines for their infringement.<note xml:id="ftn7-159" n="7"><p>Moss to Governor, <date when="1891-10">October 1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1892">1892</date>.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c7-2">
            <head>The functioning of the laws</head>
            <p rend="indent">Of greater significance than the laws and rules themselves was the manner in which they operated in practice, for none of them ascribed clear roles to particular persons or groups, nor did they lay down adequate rules of procedure.
<pb n="160" xml:id="n160"/>
To the extent that they did function, they were administered by the persons or groups who had most power in the society at any given time, and according to procedures adopted by those power groups.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In land matters the key figure in the power structure in most districts was the judge, one (or sometimes two) of whom was appointed at the time the laws were introduced. The initial appointments were in most cases made by the missionaries, though later ones were usually made by the local ariki.<note xml:id="ftn1-160" n="1"><p>On Rarotonga the first judges were appointed by the missionaries themselves. - Pitman, Journal 19.9.<date when="1827">1827</date>. So far as can be ascertained subsequent appointments were made by the normal processes of inheritance, until in <date when="1890">1890</date> legislative provision was made requiring that in future judges would be appointed by the ariki of the district. - E Akamoni i te Au Ture <date when="1890">1890</date> (Law for Upholding the Law).</p></note> Judges invariably belonged to the district or island over which they exercised their jurisdiction<note xml:id="ftn2-160" n="2"><p>With the exception of Ngamaru Ariki, who held the post of Chief Judge of Avarua from 1898 until 1903. While not a Rarotongan, he was the husband of Makea Ariki of Avarua, as well as being an ariki of Atiu in his own right. - <hi rend="u">Ioi Karanga</hi> 17.12.<date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> and were either themselves ariki, or their younger brothers, or holders of titles immediately subordinate to those of the ariki.<note xml:id="ftn3-160" n="3"><p>For many years the Chief Judge of Atiu was the leading ariki, but when he took up permanent residence on Rarotonga he appointed leading mataiapo who were subordinate to him as Chief Judges. Tupe, the Chief Judge of Ngatangiia from 1827 to 1840, was the younger brother of Pa Ariki. From 1827 to 1898 the title of Chief Judge at Avarua was held by the holder of the Vakatini title, passing from father to son.</p></note> Through his own land rights and his kinship bonds a judge was probably an interested party in many cases and would be obliged to support members of his own lineage against those of other lineages. Moreover, as he was either the ariki or a related chief appointed by the ariki it would generally be in his interests to support the higher rank orders rather than the lower, and the senior minor lineages rather than the junior ones.</p>
            <pb n="161" xml:id="n161"/>
            <p rend="indent">A feature which stands out clearly in this period is that land problems were least serious on islands with powerful hierarchical rank structures, and most acute on Aitutaki, Manihiki and Penrhyn, the three islands whose rank structures had been most seriously damaged in the course of their contact experiences.<note xml:id="ftn1-161" n="1"><p>On Aitutaki this was due to two factors: firstly, power in the indigenous society was diffused through a number of separate but equal chieftainships between which there was inadequate cohesion; and secondly, Reverend Henry Royle, who was in charge of the mission there from 1839 to 1876, was a man of powerful and autocratic personality who, unlike most of his fellow missionaries, chose to destroy the chiefly structure rather than work through it. On Penrhyn, where a similar diffusion of power existed, the situation was further complicated when slavers took away many of the chiefs and left the balance of power upset. Here again the dominant role was assumed by the resident missionary, a Rarotongan named Ngatikaro. On Manihiki the indigenous social order was typified by two groups between which there was considerable friction and jealousy, but neither of which was able to gain complete ascendency over the other; the balance of power was therefore liable to frequent disturbing fluctuations.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Within each of the three districts of Rarotonga, after the first decade of mission influence the ariki and judges had a degree of control sufficient to avoid the outbreak of open conflict, but serious interdistrict disputes continued until the middle of the nineteenth century.<note xml:id="ftn2-161" n="2"><p>The laws appear to have been of little relevance in settling the serious interdistrict disputes which arose during the first twenty-five years of mission influence.</p></note> Naval vessels called there more frequently than at any other island in the group, but on no occasion did the ariki ask for naval or any other form of foreign intervention (other than by missionaries) to control the people of their districts, or to determine land disputes within or between districts. In the Northern Group, on the other hand, naval commanders were frequently called on to adjudicate on land matters.</p>
            <p rend="indent">On Atiu, after the death of Rongomatane Ngaakaara, the ariki who led the conquest of Mauke and Mitiaro and who was in position of de facto authority over the whole island,
<pb n="162" xml:id="n162"/>
there was a period of tension and disputes over land between the three component tribes on the island. The fact that a law-code had been enacted,<note xml:id="ftn1-162" n="1"><p>Gill, <hi rend="u">Gems…</hi> 237.</p></note> and that further laws were adopted,<note xml:id="ftn2-162" n="2"><p>Buzacott to LMS 18.8.<date when="1845">1845</date> SSL.</p></note> did little to alter the situation. However, by the 1860s Ngamaru Ariki had gained supremacy over the whole island, and no further land disputes are recorded. In Aitutaki, on the other hand, Reverend Lawrence found on his arrival in <date when="1885">1885</date> that ‘the law book, the jail, the book containing the names of those convicted - all have gone and the people follow their own will’.<note xml:id="ftn3-162" n="3"><p>Lawrence to LMS 7.12.<date when="1885">1885</date> SSR.</p></note> Despite his attempts to have a new code introduced, nothing had been done by <date when="1887">1887</date> and there was ‘simply no law on the island, and even if we had there is no one with sufficient authority to enforce it. The consequence is that in all matters relating to land etc. the man with the most stubbornness is sure to have his way in the end. It matters nothing whether he is right or wrong’.<note xml:id="ftn4-162" n="4"><p>Lawrence to LMS 17.1.<date when="1887">1887</date> SSR. The same state of affairs still existed a decade later. - Lawrence to LMS 20.12.<date when="1897">1897</date> SSL.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1896">1896</date> a Special Judicial Commissioner of the <name key="name-032069" type="organisation">Western Pacific High Commission</name> called at Manihiki to settle some outstanding land disputes. One of these was a complaint by Kairua to the effect that certain of his lands had been confiscated by the judge. Though the Island Council had already decided that the land undoubtedly belonged to Kairua, they had been unable to enforce their decision. In another case the Council had given a decision but it had been reversed by the missionary. The Commissioner upheld the Council's decisions in all cases but enjoined them to ensure
<pb n="163" xml:id="n163"/>
that they were put into effect in future.<note xml:id="ftn1-163" n="1"><p>Hunter to High Commissioner 31.8.1896 and 10.9.<date when="1896">1896</date> WPHC.</p></note> The disorganized state of the authority structure was such, however, that the processes for settlement did not improve and unresolved land disputes remained a continued threat to the stability of the island's political organization.<note xml:id="ftn2-163" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">Te Karere</hi> <date when="1902-09">September 1902</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Conditions were no better on Penrhyn, where in the event of land disputes the law was ‘put aside and nothing [was] done to prevent them fighting’.<note xml:id="ftn3-163" n="3"><p>Chalmers to LMS 4.7.1872 to 13.9.<date when="1872">1872</date> SSJ.</p></note> One of the Penrhyn villages asked Chalmers to draft them a separate code from that used by the main village, and he did so accordingly.<note xml:id="ftn4-163" n="4"><p>Ibid.</p></note> Mangaia was in a marginal position, for as long as a centralized hierarchy of authority functioned land disputes lay dormant, but on the death of the ‘king’ who had exercised authority over the whole island, his title was split and land disputes burst out afresh.<note xml:id="ftn5-163" n="5"><p>It was the ‘king's’ power over the governors of the six districts that stopped disputes from developing to serious proportions. Both he and the mission realized that there would be disputes over succession to his title and that the new incumbent would not be recognized by all six districts. As expected serious land quarrels broke out very soon after his death and a disturbed political situation developed. - Harris to LMS 5.6.<date when="1879">1879</date> SSL.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">It has been indicated that where there was a clear-cut status hierarchy land disputes were contained and seldom developed into open conflict. But as the administration of the land laws was entirely in the hands of the top strata of the social order the institution of law-codes served to strengthen their position relative to that of the lower classes. The European missionaries generally succeeded in their attempts to contain disputes by centralizing judicial
<pb n="164" xml:id="n164"/>
authority for each district or island, but were probably not aware of the degree of personal power which was thus vested in the executors of the law. Not being aware of the complexities of custom, they had of necessity left the judges with very wide discretionary powers. Moreover, with a weakening of traditional sanctions over them<note xml:id="ftn1-164" n="1"><p>It was no longer feasible to banish a chief for despotism, as had not infrequently occurred in the pre-contact era, and the leavening effect of the supernatural sanctions of the heathen priests was replaced by a new supernatural system which operated more directly through the people who administered the law.</p></note> and with no provision for appeal or other restraint in the introduced system, the judges became powerful indeed. Judge Tupe, who, in conjunction with Reverend Pitman, had tyrannized his district for thirteen years, was said to have had immense influence in land affairs.<note xml:id="ftn2-164" n="2"><p>Pitman to LMS 9.6.<date when="1840">1840</date> SSL.</p></note> As Judge Tupe was the brother of the ariki, chief executive for the mission, controller of the police force, and Chief Judge called on to decide issues which were not specified at law, this claim appears to be valid.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The law-codes themselves seem to have been of little consequence in determining the course of action taken in any particular circumstance. Though the codes were drafted under guidance and persuasion from the missionaries, their execution was generally a matter for the high chiefs and judges except on Aitutaki and Penrhyn, where the missionaries had assumed the de facto position of high chiefs and therefore had a considerable say in the execution of land laws. On the other islands, while the missionaries exerted considerable influence over the chiefs, their advice was only acted upon to the extent that the high
<pb n="165" xml:id="n165"/>
chiefs through whom the missionaries worked found it expedient to do so.<note xml:id="ftn1-165" n="1"><p>For example, on Rarotonga, shortly after the laws were adopted in <date when="1827">1827</date>, Makea Ariki had a difference with the mission and remained aloof from its activities. The law in his district was accordingly disregarded until Makea's rapprochement in <date when="1833">1833</date> when ‘the word of God became established…and the law of the island then became effective’. - Maretu, MS 136.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In the rule about land disputes on Rarotonga, no principles were stated apart from the fact that ‘the law’ would decide.<note xml:id="ftn2-165" n="2"><p>‘Laws of Rarotonga’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 5.</p></note> One would assume that ‘the law’ referred to the judges, for they had been appointed to administer it, but this particular clause stated that all the chiefs of the island were to determine the issue. It is hardly conceivable that the individual chiefs would deliberate on lines other than those of tribal affiliation, especially in view of the fact that the law did not require them to recognize any particular principles, and it is accordingly not surprising that (before the time of the Protectorate) no example has been noticed of the chiefs functioning as a group to determine any intra-district land dispute, but rather the ariki and the judges invariably controlled such matters for their respective districts.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c7-3">
            <head>Protection and federation: 1888–98<note xml:id="ftn3-165" n="3"><p>The Protectorate was declared over the inhabited islands of the Southern Group in <date when="1888">1888</date>, and over all the remaining <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> during the succeeding four years. The Protectorate lasted until <date when="1901">1901</date>, but the direct administration of the group by New Zealand, though not provided for by statute until <date when="1901">1901</date>, in fact began in <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note></head>
            <p rend="indent">With the coming of the British Protectorate in <date when="1888">1888</date>, the power of the high chiefs was reinforced by naval support.<note xml:id="ftn4-165" n="4"><p>Previous to this time the principal actions taken by the navy in the group were to support European trading interests and discipline natives who interfered with them - see e.g. Lawrence to LMS 17.1.<date when="1887">1887</date> SSR.</p></note> The proclamation read at each island clearly stated that
<pb n="166" xml:id="n166"/>
there would be no interference with the existing administration by the high chiefs.<note xml:id="ftn1-166" n="1"><p>Bourke, Form of Proclamation 27.10.<date when="1888">1888</date> CIA. While technically within the jurisdiction of the <name key="name-032069" type="organisation">Western Pacific High Commission</name>, the Commission was instructed not to interfere in administrative affairs in the group, thogh it was given a nominal judicial role. - Colonial Office to Governor 7.1.<date when="1895">1895</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> The assembled peoples were told that the customs and laws of that day were to remain, and that foreigners as well as local people were to conform to them.<note xml:id="ftn2-166" n="2"><p>Bourke to Admiralty 13.11.<date when="1888">1888</date> CO 225 PRO.</p></note> During the following decade various high chiefs reminded the British Resident and other foreigners of these assurances whenever their actions were questioned.<note xml:id="ftn3-166" n="3"><p>E.g. see Moss to Governor 11.12.<date when="1893">1893</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1894">1894</date>, and 25.4.<date when="1898">1898</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">No changes were made in the indigenous political structure until <date when="1890">1890</date>. In that year Mr F.J. Moss, an exmember of the New Zealand Parliament, was appointed as British Resident and took up his post at Rarotonga. He was specifically required to ‘leave the natives in the possession of their existing rights of legislating for themselves, reserving to yourself a veto….’<note xml:id="ftn4-166" n="4"><p>Governor to Moss 25.2.<date when="1891">1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A1 <date when="1891">1891</date>. Moss informed the people of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> accordingly. - Moss to Chiefs and People of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> 22.4.<date when="1891">1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3(a) <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> Hitherto each of the islands (excepting Atiu, Mauke and Mitiaro) had functioned independently of the others, but in <date when="1891">1891</date> Moss formed a Federal Parliament for all the islands of the Southern Group.<note xml:id="ftn5-166" n="5"><p>The jurisdiction of the British Resident and of the Federal Parliament was limited to the Southern Group.</p></note> The Parliament was composed of the various ariki and their nominees, but the executive consisted of the ariki alone.<note xml:id="ftn6-166" n="6"><p>The Resident acted as adviser to both bodies.</p></note> The first Federal law provided that each island would remain self-governing in ‘local matters’<note xml:id="ftn7-166" n="7"><p>‘A Law to Provide for the Good Government of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> -
<pb n="167" xml:id="n167"/>
a term which in the particular circumstance included land tenure.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The first provision of any kind to apply to more than a single island was the ‘Declaration as to Land’, which was made by the Federal Parliament in <date when="1894">1894</date> for all the Southern Group and which purported to lay down ‘the customs of the Maori in that matter from time immemorial to the present day’.<note xml:id="ftn1-167" n="1"><p>‘Declaration as to Land’ <date when="1894">1894</date>.</p></note> The declaration did not take the form of legislation, and noted that it was ‘for each island to make its own laws’ in this regard. Local councils were constituted on Aitutaki and Mangaia and laws for peace, order and good government were passed.<note xml:id="ftn2-167" n="2"><p>‘Law for the Future Government of Mangaia’ <date when="1891">1891</date>; and ‘A Law to Provide for the Good Government of Aitutaki’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> These made no specific reference to land tenure, but did provide for the appointment of judges and for hearings in open court.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Moss conducted an investigation of land matters in Aitutaki and found that disputes as to ownership were ‘constant’, usually as a result of adoptions or disputed wills.<note xml:id="ftn3-167" n="3"><p>Moss to Governor, <date when="1891-10">October 1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1892">1892</date>.</p></note> Boundary disputes were also numerous.<note xml:id="ftn4-167" n="4"><p>Moss to Arikis and Governors and People of Aitutaki 28.9.<date when="1891">1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1892">1892</date>.</p></note> He accordingly persuaded the Council to adopt a law ‘to settle disputes about land’,<note xml:id="ftn5-167" n="5"><p>‘[Law] To Settle Disputes About Land’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> but it merely provided that future disputes as to ownership or boundaries were to be heard by the island's three judges sitting together, rather than individually as they had done previously. As with the mission inspired laws of half a century earlier, no clear principles were specified. Whether the courts kept records, how many cases they heard, and how effective their
<pb n="168" xml:id="n168"/>
jurisdiction was can only be guessed.<note xml:id="ftn1-168" n="1"><p>Though one of the judges of Aitutaki reported that he had ‘judged many land disputes’, but that there were many still outstanding. - Judge Te Taura to Moss 10.12.<date when="1891">1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1892">1892</date>.</p></note> Moss thought that, as he had provided for the Aitutaki Council to be composed of elected members, and as the new Council had passed the new law and was made responsible for the appointment of the judges, he had transferred control over land matters from an hereditary chiefly hierarchy to a democratic body. However, an examination of the actual composition of the ‘new’ Council shows it to have been composed exclusively of ariki and other titleholders.<note xml:id="ftn2-168" n="2"><p>The names of members are listed in ‘A Law to Provide for the Good Government of Aitutaki’ <date when="1891">1891</date>. I am indebted to Mr Mokoenga Kavana for details of the rank status of the members. The Mangaia Council consisted solely of ariki and ‘governors’. - ‘Law for the Future Government of Mangaia’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">On Aitutaki provision was made for appeals from the decisions of the judges to be heard by the Island Council.<note xml:id="ftn3-168" n="3"><p>‘[Law] To Settle Disputes About Land’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> On Rarotonga, while no appeal was provided for by way of legislation, the Island Council (which was controlled by the ariki) frequently spent a considerable amount of time deliberating on land disputes and issuing decisions on them.<note xml:id="ftn4-168" n="4"><p>E.g. Moss to Governor 19.7.<date when="1892">1892</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A6 <date when="1893">1893</date>.</p></note> In addition, the ariki had been given the power of pardon in respect of sentences imposed by district judges;<note xml:id="ftn5-168" n="5"><p>‘Power of Pardon Act’ <date when="1890">1890</date>.</p></note> and a Supreme Court had been established with an ariki as its sole judge, with power to hear any case involving foreigners and natives, as well as all cases involving Federal law.<note xml:id="ftn6-168" n="6"><p>‘A Law to Establish a Supreme Court’ <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> This legislation further strengthened the position of the ariki in Rarotonga, and in <date when="1894">1894</date> they were given legal
<pb n="169" xml:id="n169"/>
sanction for the control of all land matters, for a law was passed providing that after any land case had been heard by a judge, he was to ‘send his judgement to the Ariki of the district, whose decision thereon would be final’.<note xml:id="ftn1-169" n="1"><p>‘Land Occupants Act’ <date when="1894">1894</date>.</p></note> This system of appeal and rehearing by the ariki, despite its informal basis, served to reinforce ariki control over land in Rarotonga, but no such system was introduced to other islands of the group.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Moss tried to interest the people of the Federation in a programme of land reform and hoped to create a society of peasant farmers, independent of obligations to their chiefs and kin. He proposed that the government should assume control of all lands and collect fixed cash rentals from each occupying family. The government would then pay those rentals to the chief under whose jurisdiction that land was held.<note xml:id="ftn2-169" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 19.10.<date when="1895">1895</date>. This proposal was similar to the system prevailing in <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, which Moss considered appropriate for the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>.</p></note> Sale or lease could only be negotiated through the government, which was to protect the rights of both chiefs and commoners.<note xml:id="ftn3-169" n="3"><p>Ibid.</p></note> Moss was afraid that what had happened in <name key="name-019821" type="place">Hawaii</name> and elsewhere, where the chiefs had irresponsibly alienated their lands, would happen in the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> also. However, while the matter was recommended to the Council of Ariki, he found that owing to the fact that they controlled the lands of Rarotonga, they were not anxious to ‘give up the power which the present system gives to the owner of the land’.<note xml:id="ftn4-169" n="4"><p>Moss to Governor 18.11.<date when="1895">1895</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1896">1896</date>.</p></note> Failing to achieve his aim, he later urged the chiefs of the whole Federation to allot to every family sufficient land on which to grow their
<pb n="170" xml:id="n170"/>
food crops ‘and a little coffee or other produce to sell’. This proposal would appear merely to have confirmed the existing situation, but he further proposed that the name of the family and of the land should be recorded by the respective Island Councils, and that the occupier should if possible commute the existing obligations to a cash rental.<note xml:id="ftn1-170" n="1"><p><hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 12.10.1895 and 19.10.<date when="1895">1895</date>.</p></note> The balance of the land, he assumed, belonged to the high chiefs, and he felt confident that in time they would be induced to make it available for lease.<note xml:id="ftn2-170" n="2"><p>Moss to Governor 18.11.<date when="1895">1895</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1896">1896</date>.</p></note> None of these proposals was adopted.</p>
            <p rend="indent">At the time he assumed office, Moss had complained that under the then existing system each ariki followed or disregarded the laws of his island at pleasure.<note xml:id="ftn3-170" n="3"><p>Moss to Governor 17.1.<date when="1891">1891</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> The indications are, however, that the same situation applied at the time of Moss' departure from the island in <date when="1898">1898</date>. Like the missionaries before him, he could only advise and persuade, for he had no compulsive power. In short, he could not have any significant effect on the actual balance of power in the society and accordingly although he could sometimes get legislation enacted, he could get it enforced only to the extent that it was acceptable to those who held the power in their hands. The Federal Parliament itself, which Moss had designed as a popularly elected body, was in fact invariably composed of appointees of the ariki and no election ever took place.<note xml:id="ftn4-170" n="4"><p>Moss to Governor 17.10.<date when="1897">1897</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> The actual functioning of the Parliament and of such land laws as it passed served merely to make chiefly power more effective.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The land laws initiated by the mission were instituted in order to reduce dispute and ensure more ‘justice’ by
<pb n="171" xml:id="n171"/>
safeguarding the rights of the common people. Whether there was any overall reduction in disputes is not known. Such practices as warfare and the ritual plunder of land did not die out as a result of law-codes, in fact neither were mentioned in any code, and the extent of dispute has been shown to have depended not on the existence of such codes but on the unity and strength of the power hierarchy. In fact, the evidence suggests that a lack of land disputes was probably correlated with a minimum of ‘justice’ to the lower rank orders.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In his recommendations for modifications to land laws the British Resident aimed at security of tenure and increased productivity, but the most important of the reforms proposed by him (dealing with registered titles, rent commutation, and government control of land) were never adopted. Those which were adopted resulted in less security of tenure for commoners, though they may nevertheless have been a factor contributing to the increased production during the period, due to the increased chiefly power to organize and control production. This, however, was not the type of development which Moss had hoped to engender.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="172" xml:id="n172"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="8" xml:id="c8">
          <head>Chapter 9<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The New Role of Land</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c8-1">
            <head>The production of surpluses</head>
            <p rend="indent">Prior to the advent of Europeans every man subsisted by the direct exploitation of land in which he held rights. Surpluses were produced for storage against the possibility of famine, for feasts and ceremonial, and for the prestige one gained by having ample supplies of food, but beyond this there is no indication of any incentive operating to engender the accumulation of large quantities of food or other material goods. As there was no product in general use which was not available in every district on each island, one's requirements were normally obtainable from land or water in which recognized rights were held.</p>
            <p rend="indent">As a result of contact with European culture, it became possible to subsist by other means than the direct exploitation of one's land rights, and consequently, to live without rights to land. Not many persons lived without some direct exercise of land rights, but among those who did were the pastors on islands other than their own, who were fed by their congregations, outer islands labourers on European plantations in Rarotonga, seamen on local schooners, and pearl-shell divers in Manihiki and Penrhyn who came from other islands.</p>
            <p rend="indent">There were also those who, in addition to subsistence production, took permanent or casual employment in cotton ginning, boat-building, labouring and other pursuits.<note xml:id="ftn1-172" n="1"><p>Kelly, <hi rend="u">The South Sea Islands…</hi> 49.</p></note> The
<pb n="173" xml:id="n173"/>
more widespread pattern, however, was the supplemening of the consumption standards and prestige obtained from the lands in pre-European times either directly by the production of cash crops, or indirectly by the delegation of rights to those in need of land in return for a financial or other consideration.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The production of cash crops may be considered in two major categories according to motivation. Firstly there was production aimed at achieving divine grace and status within the church, for the most influential early contacts with European culture had been with missionaries who impressed on the natives the necessity for church buildings and offerings of saleable goods and money.<note xml:id="ftn1-173" n="1"><p>E.g. ‘The State of the Society's funds I have not failed to lay before the people and urgently as possible pressed home upon their consciences a consideration of the subject…’ - Pitman to LMS 23.9.<date when="1842">1842</date> SSL.</p></note> Throughout the period a considerable proportion of total production was contributed in kind or in cash to one church project or another.<note xml:id="ftn2-173" n="2"><p>There was extensive planting of arrowroot in Rarotonga in the 1840s and almost the whole crop was ‘devoted to the service of God’ - Pitman to LMS 3.7.<date when="1849">1849</date>; Mission pamphlets and the Bible were regularly sold for coconuts, arrowroot, dried bananas, and other produce - Buzacott, <hi rend="u">Mission Life…</hi> 207; for the eight years 1873 to 1880 Mangaia gave an average of $1017 per year in cash to the church as well as free services and gifts in kind - Harris to LMS 20.8.<date when="1881">1881</date> SSR; in <date when="1876">1876</date> the people of Avarua spent £600 to £700 on repairs to their church - Lovett, <hi rend="u">James Chalmers…</hi> 116. This quite possibly constituted more than half their total cash income for the year.</p></note> A spirit of competition was maintained by the missionaries by announcing publicly the donations of each contributing group and individual,<note xml:id="ftn3-173" n="3"><p>Pitman to LMS 3.7.<date when="1849">1849</date> SSL.</p></note> and an old man who sold his only cow in order to buy a new Bible for each member of his household was held up as an example of the ideal churchman.<note xml:id="ftn4-173" n="4"><p>[Hutchen], ‘Phases of Native Life…’ 29.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="174" xml:id="n174"/>
            <p rend="indent">Secondly, the land could be used for cash cropping with the aim of acquiring material goods for personal consumption. This aim, which was in competition with the pressure for funds by the church, served as an additional incentive to production. A part of this incentive was provided by the church itself through its insistence on the use of certain imported commodities, and particularly on the wearing of imported cloth,<note xml:id="ftn1-174" n="1"><p>Those who did not wear imported cloth were not considered eligible for baptism. - Maretu, MS 73.</p></note> a commodity which was consequently the largest single item of trade throughout the period.<note xml:id="ftn2-174" n="2"><p>While there is no statistical verification before <date when="1880">1880</date>, the proportions of various articles paid in particular dealings show a high preponderance of cloth. For example, a whaler in <date when="1837">1837</date> bought 45 pigs for four to eight yards of blue cotton cloth per pig, 8 dozen fowls and ducks at six yards of cloth per dozen, and only for the smaller items of fruits and vegetables did they pay in ‘beads, toilet glasses, scissors, jewsharps, and fancy calico…’ - Putnam, <hi rend="u">Salem Vessels and Their Voyages</hi> 4:137.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">A further incentive was provided by a demand for certain consumers durables, the possession of which was considered essential to the maintenance of social status. Until the 1850s, houses and furniture in the European style were popular with the leding families, in the 1880s sewing machines became a must in every household, and by <date when="1890">1890</date> buggies were de rigeur for chiefs of standing. Whereas in the early stages the bulk of non-subsistence production had been devoted to church activity, as time went on an increasing proportion was devoted to the acquisition of material goods. The scale of consumption on ceremonial occasions in particular seems to have increased markedly.<note xml:id="ftn3-174" n="3"><p>For a wedding in <date when="1904">1904</date>, for example, the presents given included 188 mats, approximately 5390 yards of cotton prints, 3500 yards of calico, 7 rolls of native tapa cloth, 70 dresses (some of silk and others of lace), 1 goat, 1 cow, 65 pigs, a clock, a Bible, a hymn book and £23.10.3 in cash. The total cash value was probably equal to more than 50 times the average annual per capita income of the island.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="175" xml:id="n175"/>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c8-2">
            <head>Changes in production patterns</head>
            <p rend="indent">The relative importance of particular crops and particular soil types changed in response to new techniques and the needs of the developing market. The introduction of the spade, the hoe and the plough made the production of field crops very much easier, and the axe and the horse facilitated clearing operations. There are clear indications of a shift in emphasis from swamp taro in favour of garden crops. Three factors seem to have been responsible: firstly, whereas the new implements facilitated an increase in output of garden crops per unit of labour, they had little or no effect on taro cultivation where the digging stick remained the most useful implement; secondly, while there was a keen demand for kumara and arrowroot for the providore trade, there was little demand for taro due to its poor keeping qualities; and thirdly, the introduction of cats led to a rapid decline in the number of land birds, and this was considered responsible for the increased depredations of the taro-eating caterpillar.</p>
            <p rend="indent">It may be assumed that the reduced amount of time necessary to produce a given quantity of food resulted in increased production to the extent of the available market. Ships calling for supplies seem always to have fulfilled their requirements, and at prices which compared favourably with those obtaining in <name key="name-000007" type="place">Tahiti</name> and <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>. But the demand for fresh foods was decidedly limited and the people must soon have found the point beyond which additional production could not be marketed. While the providore trade at Rarotonga was considerable and fairly regular between 1835 and 1855, that at the smaller islands was erratic and unpredictable, and can hardly have been conducive to maximizing output.</p>
            <pb n="176" xml:id="n176"/>
            <p rend="indent">Until the mid-1850s the bulk of trade was in fresh foods which were sold to passing whalers and other vessels as ships stores.<note xml:id="ftn1-176" n="1"><p>For details of the particular crops and livestock traded at the various islands, together with an indication of prices and quantities see <hi rend="u">Weekly Alta California</hi> 16.11.<date when="1850">1850</date>.</p></note> After that time, however, the relative importance of non-perishables increased. The first of these, cotton, was originally introduced by the mission as a house-hold crop for domestic use, but it soon became an article of trade for export. Coffee was also introduced, and its production expanded after the providore trade died away. From <date when="1862">1862</date> onwards regular shipments of perishable fruits, principally oranges, were exported to New Zealand.<note xml:id="ftn2-176" n="2"><p>By <date when="1865">1865</date>, ten to fifteen cargoes of oranges were being shipped to New Zealand from Rarotonga annually. - Krause to Governor 6.11.<date when="1865">1865</date> TBC. The banana trade did not develop until the 1880s.</p></note> Like most others, this crop was first established in Rarotonga, whence it spread to the outer islands.<note xml:id="ftn3-176" n="3"><p>The introduction of oranges to the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> is credited to the ‘Bounty’ in <date when="1789">1789</date>. - Maretu, MS 12. The first known cargo of fruit exported was shipped from Aitutaki in <date when="1852">1852</date> for <name key="name-006940" type="place">California</name>. - Lamont, <hi rend="u">Wild Life among the Pacific Islanders</hi> 99.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">These export crops took longer to grow, needed to be grown in larger quantities, and necessitated techniques of cultivation and processing with which the people were unfamiliar. There is no evidence of large-scale planting of oranges or coffee, in fact the great bulk of the trees were self-propagated.<note xml:id="ftn4-176" n="4"><p>Moss to Governor 17.1.<date when="1891">1891</date> NZPP A3 <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> While cotton was widely planted in small plots it was only on Rarotonga after <date when="1880">1880</date> that any large plantations were established, and these by Europeans using immigrants from the outer islands as labour.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The ownership of the introduced crops was dealt with according to existing indigenous concepts of ownership of plants by the planter, and there is no evidence of any new
<pb n="177" xml:id="n177"/>
tenure forms being adopted by the islanders as a result of these introductions, or as a result of the new cash value of some of the indigenous products.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The attractions of cash cropping were never sufficient to induce the full utilization of the land and one of the least biased reporters noted that the proportion of arable land under active cultivation was ‘quite insignificant. Even the cultivations of the natives - their orange groves and coffee plantations, their banana and taro patches - are either part and parcel of the forest or are almost overshadowed by it’.<note xml:id="ftn1-177" n="1"><p>Cheeseman, TLS 264.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">This state of affairs may be partly explained by the drop in population, the limited market for fresh foods and the inadequacy of storage and shipping facilities for non-perishable crops. An even more important consideration, however, appears to have been that there was no marked change in the standards of subsistence consumption of the great majority of the people. With the possible exception of expenditure on imported cloth, most of the income received was spent on annual donations to the church, the acquisition of status goods, and ceremonial. The satisfaction of these needs was conducive to periodic spurts of production for particular occasions rather than to a steady continuous output to meet increased day-to-day costs. Market limitations were not the only deterrent to over-production, for the energetic were vulnerable not only to claims for atinga from above, but to obligations to share and to assist their kin. Nor was it considered proper for the lower social orders to outdo their superiors in standards of housing, ceremonial or other consumption.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Thus, while the developing market was responsible for in increase in per capita output of agricultural produce,
<pb n="178" xml:id="n178"/>
it did not lead to the commercial exploitation of all the land available, nor to maximum productivity from such land as was used. The extent to which the additional time that the new tools made available was put into increased output connot be determined, but much of it was taken up in church activities, some in the erection of coral lime houses, and some in a great increase of travelling parties which paid visits from one island to another, often remaining for months at a time.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The introduction of new livestock was not on a sufficiently large scale to engender special provisions in the tenure system, though it did result in increased difficulties in the control of wandering stock. Despite the erection of a considerable amount of fencing, there are indications that the ravages of wandering stock acted as a disincentive to production.<note xml:id="ftn1-178" n="1"><p>See, for example, instructions issued by the chiefs of Mangaia 19.11.<date when="1849">1849</date> CIA; Chace and Turner to Wesleyan Missionary Society 26.3.<date when="1841">1841</date> SSL.</p></note> Apart from new types of poultry, the main additions were cattle for beef, horses for transport and draught work, and goats for eating.<note xml:id="ftn2-178" n="2"><p>Sheep were also introduced, but did not survive for long.</p></note> None of these have multiplied greatly, and while only very few people ever kept cattle or goats, a high percentage of families owned a horse or two.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In the matter of work organization, one minor change occurred in production for religious purposes, as in some instances land was cleared, planted and harvested by the whole tribe in order to raise church funds.<note xml:id="ftn3-178" n="3"><p><hi rend="u">Te Puna Vai Rarotonga</hi> 2:22–3. There were three groups in each district, one for the men, one for the women and one for the Sunday School children. Each group worked as a unit, and planted its section of land collectively. The men's group was usually led by the high chief and the women's group by his wife.</p></note> So far as is
<pb n="179" xml:id="n179"/>
known, agriculture was never undertaken on a tribal basis in the pre-contact era. The new pattern does not, however, seem to have become a widespread practice, and it had ceased by the end of the century. The fact that the chiefs organized the collection of produce for the church probably caused little change, for they had previously had similar powers to organize the accumulation of produce for tribal religious activities.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c8-3">
            <head>The leasing and lending of land</head>
            <p rend="indent">The most lucrative indirect method of exploiting one's land rights was by transferring some portion of them to foreigners, usually by way of lease. By <date when="1899-01">January 1899</date> the annual income to native owners from registered leases of land to foreigners was £502.10.0.<note xml:id="ftn1-179" n="1"><p>In fact many of the rentals were fixed in Chilean dollars, the exchange rate for which fluctuated around $10 to the £1. This exchange rate has been used to convert all rentals to pounds sterling.</p></note> Of this amount, some £445.16.0 was in respect of land on Rarotonga. In addition to the cash there must be added the value of rentals in goods,<note xml:id="ftn2-179" n="2"><p>Deed no.83 covered the lease of a section of land from Tinomana Ariki to Ah Chin for one pig per year. - Deeds Register NLC.</p></note> of commitments in addition to the fixed rent,<note xml:id="ftn3-179" n="3"><p>Deed no.159 provided that the lessee of land at Aitutaki had to pay a cash rental of $30 per annum as well as to care for the native owners ‘and give them food and also for their grandchildren’. - Deeds Register NLC.</p></note> and rentals payable in the form of a proportion of the proceeds from the land rented,<note xml:id="ftn4-179" n="4"><p>Deed no.29 in respect of Tutakimoa plantation for coffee and orange growing made such a provision. - Deeds Register NLC.</p></note> or of improvements to the land.<note xml:id="ftn5-179" n="5"><p>Deed no.134 provided that the lessor was to get possession after 25 years of a house to be built by the lessee. - Deeds Register NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Alternatively, land rights could be exploited by allowing unrelated natives to settle on unused lands. To
<pb n="180" xml:id="n180"/>
Rarotonga particularly came an influx of people without land rights there, and without kinship bonds to link them with the Rarotonga people. Apart from a handful who worked for European planters or traders, all native immigrants were dependent on land for their subsistence, though they had no land rights on the island. Not one native acquired a formal lease or other legal title to land,<note xml:id="ftn1-180" n="1"><p>An examination of the Deeds Register shows that at this period no leases had been made in favour of islanders.</p></note> and apart from those who acquired rights by marriage, the visitors merely entered into informal arrangements with local chiefs to reside and plant under a system of permissive occupation. Such tenancy at will was not only insecure, but, as demands for atinga were dependent on ability to pay, there was a direct disincentive to surplus production. Moreover, such use-rights did not carry the right to plant long-term crops.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c8-4">
            <head>The status of women</head>
            <p rend="indent">The status of women improved as a result of mission influence and a surplus of males, and in Rarotonga in <date when="1845">1845</date>, the Makea Ariki title passed to a woman - the sister of the deceased.<note xml:id="ftn2-180" n="2"><p>The previous ariki had no born children.</p></note> She was the wife of Rio, one of the original Tahitian teachers and she lived at the mission headquarters where she was held in high esteem.<note xml:id="ftn3-180" n="3"><p>Mrs Buzacott, MS 8.</p></note> This was the first occasion on which a woman had held a rank title or exercised the land rights concomitant with it. No legislative provision was made to accommodate this change of custom but, once the precedent was established, women came to assume a small but increasing number of titles on Rarotonga and on some, but not all, of the outer islands. It is noticeable that women held ariki titles much more frequently than they held
<pb n="181" xml:id="n181"/>
</p>
            <pb n="182" xml:id="n182"/>
            <p rend="indent">In the initial stages this was simply a case of ariki signing the leases in the capacity of titular head of the tribe on behalf of the owning descent group. But all too frequently, by the time the lease expired, the ariki regarded the lands concerned as his own and not infrequently cited the fact of the lease in his name as ‘proof’ of ownership. Moreover, in the last two decades of the century, there were instances of ariki leasing lands without the knowledge of the owning descent groups and others of their forcing leases in the face of strong opposition from the owners, and in a few extreme cases native occupiers were evicted to make way for more remunerative occupation by foreigners.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Rental from leases became a major source of income for the ariki, and of the total annual rental income of £502.10.0 from registered leases in <date when="1899">1899</date>, £404.0.0 went to ariki, £10 to mataiapo, £33 to rangatira, £30 to ‘the Government of Aitutaki’, and £25.10.0 to persons whose rank is not known. The amount of income from unregistered leases and other informal arrangements is not known, but from the above leases alone each Rarotonga ariki derived an average of £64.2.8 - a not inconsiderable sum in relation to per capita
<note xml:id="ftn4-180"><p><hi rend="sup">4</hi>(continued from previous page)Court investigations of ownership. Of these 45, some 39 were leases by ariki. In 20 of these cases the Court investigation showed that the ariki had no proprietary right to the land concerned, in 13 cases the ariki was found to be one rightholder among others, and in 6 cases ownership was awarded to the ariki alone. Of these 6 cases, however, 3 were lands which were vested by the time of investigation in either religious bodies or the Crown and whose ownership was accordingly never proven, 2 were lands awarded to the ariki for a life interest only pending full investigation (which has never been carried out) and in the one remaining case the ariki was shown to be sole owner of the land concerned. Of the 6 instances of lease by persons below ariki status, Court investigation showed that all lessors were either sole or part owners of the land concerned.</p></note>
<pb n="183" xml:id="n183"/>
income from agriculture, which was then just under £3 per annum.<note xml:id="ftn1-183" n="1"><p>In addition to rentals some ariki collected harbour dues from vessels using reef passages in their districts. - MB 19:173–4 NLC.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Many of the lands leased were those whose owners had either died or gone away. The motivation for leasing such lands cannot have been wholly mercenary, for it was the customary duty of the ariki to accommodate strangers, and they were under constant pressure not only from the potential lessors but also from the British Consul and later the British Resident. In the Avarua district of Rarotonga, where the number of foreigners was largest and the pressure to lease was greatest, the ariki must frequently have been embarrassed by conflicting obligations to visitors as against tribesmen. Nevertheless, the need to meet the requirements of visitors was at times used as a rationale to take land from those descent groups which were out of favour.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The granting of permissive occupation to outsiders was likewise the prerogative of the higher rank orders, and as the newcomers (mostly immigrants from other islands) were given no security of tenure they were vulnerable to excessive demands for labour and tribute from their hosts. This is not to suggest that they were maliciously exploited, in fact Maori tenets of hospitality probably made it obligatory for a chief to grant to any stranger who requested it the right to build himself a house on that chief's land. Some of the immigrants married into the lineages whose lands they were using and thus acquired a more secure right for themselves and their children. Nevertheless, the great majority lacked security and bargaining power, for their continued residence was dependent on continued good relations
<pb n="184" xml:id="n184"/>
with their hosts, and apart from the land there were few alternative sources of income and subsistence.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Some observers have blamed the ariki for not granting leases to these strangers from neighbouring islands who settled on their lands, but it is most unlikely that many, if any, islanders would have wanted this form of tenure in any case. Even if the people had been familiar with it, the ariki made the laws and to a large extent administered them, and it is doubtful if a lease would have given any greater security than did residence at the pleasure of the ariki. Had cash rentals been charged on the scale paid by foreigners, relatively few islanders could have afforded them. Moreover, in Maori eyes, for a commoner to ask an ariki for a signed guarantee of tenure would probably have appeared as a gross insult. The relationship established by permissive occupation was a reciprocal and flexible one wherein the chief provided means for the sustenance of the visitor, who in return assisted the chief with produce and labour at appropriate times.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In effect what happened on Rarotonga during the latter part of the century was that the right-holders lost in the early decades of the century by disease and emigration were to some extent replaced by the influx of immigrants who were quite without rights. The number wanting permission to reside was considerable, and the number of chiefs in a position to grant that permission relatively few; the need of the immigrant was greater than that of the chief, and consequently one's continued residence was best secured by generous giving and liberal assistance with work.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In pre-contact times, the common people were the relatives of the chiefs, and had particular rights to particular portions of land. The lineage gained strength and status as its numbers increased, and it was accordingly in the interests
<pb n="185" xml:id="n185"/>
of the lineage head to make land available to those who wished to use it; he could not exploit it in any other way. Furthermore, as the lineage functioned for many purposes as a single unit, what was in his interests was generally also in theirs. Once produce acquired a cash value, however, the land on which it grew acquired a capital value and, due to the range of consumer goods now available, what was in the chief's best interests was much less often in the common interests of the group.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The ability of any man with available land to produce crops for sale or export may suggest increased individual choice. However, this was limited in practice by the organization of the market houses which provided a channel through which the chiefs could exercise control over the production and sale of cash crops. These market houses were set up originally by the missionaries to assist and regularize trade. In the Southern Group, one such market house was set up on each island.<note xml:id="ftn1-185" n="1"><p>Market houses of this type were not reported from the northern islands, probably as the volume of trade did not merit their erection.</p></note> In those islands where there was tension between districts this arrangement tended to produce difficulties, and in Rarotonga and Aitutaki - where trade was greatest and reef passages most numerous - the original scheme broke down and various districts established their own market houses.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Each market house was controlled by the local ariki, who made regulations for the conduct of the market and fixed the prices to be paid for each commodity. A copy of the regulations and prices of the Avarua market house as at <date when="1849">1849</date> shows how the trade was organized and shared between the various landholding groups.<note xml:id="ftn2-185" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">The Market House…</hi> <date when="1849">1849</date>.</p></note> Each of the six major
<pb n="186" xml:id="n186"/>
lineages within the tribe was to supply equal quantities of produce, and the chief of each was to handle sales and purchases for his group. Overall control of the market was exercised by Makea Ariki, and he or his appointee stayed with the captain of the providoring ship throughout the whole operation. This new role as intermediaries in trade gave the leading chiefs not only additional power, but also additional income, for their control extended to the distribution of proceeds from the market.<note xml:id="ftn1-186" n="1"><p>The laws of Rarotonga provided that: ‘3. Chiefs are not to take the best pieces of cloth for their own use. Let them have a share and the people a share also. But if money only be paid by the captain it is right it should go to the chief. 4…. The person in charge of the market [i.e. the chief] is the proper one to take all things and deal with them… and the police are to take into custody any who do not obey these authorities.’ - ‘Laws of Rarotonga…’ <date when="1879">1879</date> clause 22.</p><p>Commander Bourke found this chiefly monopoly on trade still operating throughout the group in <date when="1888">1888</date>, but warned the chiefs that it was not in accordance with British traditions of trade. - Bourke to Admiralty 13.11.<date when="1888">1888</date> CO 225 PRO.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Another important technique used by the high chiefs to monopolize the export of produce was the application of the ancient customary prohibition or ra'ui to cash crops.<note xml:id="ftn2-186" n="2"><p>The ra'ui was also sometimes used as a sanction forbidding the planter the right to harvest his crop - see, e.g. Hamilton Hunter to High Commissioner 10.9.<date when="1896">1896</date> WPHC.</p></note> When an ariki placed a ra'ui on a crop of his district, it was forbidden for any person, including the person who had planted it and on whose land it grew, to harvest the crop until the ra'ui was lifted. A contract was then let by the ariki to the trader who made the most advantageous offer for the whole crop of the district.<note xml:id="ftn3-186" n="3"><p>As from <date when="1898">1898</date> it became common for the ariki to advertise their ra'ui and the successful tenderer for the crop. - <hi rend="u">Cook Islands Gazette</hi>, passim.</p></note> While the system probably originated to ensure the best possible price for produce, it also gave an unscrupulous ariki the opportunity
<pb n="187" xml:id="n187"/>
to turn the system to his own advantage.<note xml:id="ftn1-187" n="1"><p>Sometimes the crop had to be sold <hi rend="u">through</hi> the ariki to the trader concerned. - Exham to High Commissioner 1.9.<date when="1890">1890</date> FO 58 PRO. An example of exploitation by the chief who imposed the ra'ui is quoted in <hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 9.10.<date when="1897">1897</date>.</p></note> In <date when="1891">1891</date> this system of ra'ui of cash crops was given the sanction of law.<note xml:id="ftn2-187" n="2"><p>Provision was made for the ra'ui of crops by the Au (of which the ariki was head) but subject to the approval of the Resident. -‘[Law] For Electing the Au’ <date when="1891">1891</date>. It is doubtful whether this approval was sought in fact.</p></note> The principal function of the ra'ui in the subsistence economy had been to preserve supplies for future consumption, but as the commodities concerned were perishable, all partook of them and the chief could consume no greater quantity than the commoner - though the most prized portions were undoubtedly the prerogative of the chief. But in a money economy the chief could utilize a greater proportion of the proceeds and the ra'ui was at times used as a restrictive practice functioning to increase his income.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In addition to the ra'ui, some high chiefs had forbidden their subjects to deal with European traders except through them, or with their permission.<note xml:id="ftn3-187" n="3"><p>Though this practice was specifically outlawed by the ‘Statute of Atiu, Mauke and Mitiaro’ <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note> This system was ostensibly instituted to prevent or limit indebtedness, but it was open to manipulation. Moreover, during the 1890s many of the tribes owned ships which were invariably controlled by their respective high chiefs, and as these ships carried much of the produce exported from the islands the ariki thus acquired additional controls over marketing.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The increased centralization of authority in the hands of the high chiefs led to a de facto increase in their rights relative to those of the commoners. Towards the end of the century the view became widely accepted on some islands that the chiefs had absolute power over the land,
<pb n="188" xml:id="n188"/>
and that the lower rank orders were merely occupiers at their pleasure.<note xml:id="ftn1-188" n="1"><p>This view was particularly prevalent on Rarotonga, Atiu and Mauke. Many European observers noted an apparent difference between the ‘family’ ownership on Aitutaki and Mangaia and the ‘chiefly’ ownership on the other islands - e.g. Bourke to Admiralty 13.11.<date when="1888">1888</date> CO 225 PRO. While the use of the term ‘ownership’ in this context was perhaps imprecise the different degree of authority over land which was vested in high chiefs as against family heads is clear.</p></note> This was particularly so in Avarua district where the number of immigrants, both native and foreign, was greatest, and where the commercial value of land was at its highest. The view of the chiefs as absolute owners was not held only by the foreigners, for there are clear indications from their words and actions that some of the leading chiefs were of that opinion too.<note xml:id="ftn2-188" n="2"><p>E.g. in <date when="1895">1895</date> Tinomana Ariki claimed that all the lands of untitled persons were given them by their chiefs, and that those who disobeyed her instructions would be made to ‘restore’ the lands they were using to the chief. - Te Tore a 18.5.<date when="1895">1895</date>. By <date when="1900">1900</date> the same ariki was claiming the whole lime crop in her district as her personal property. - <hi rend="u">Ioi Karanga</hi> 17.3.<date when="1900">1900</date>. In <date when="1903">1903</date> Ngamaru Ariki gave the island of Takutea, which he claimed as his exclusive property, to the Crown, but later Land Court investigation showed that his rights in the island were marginal only.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">On Rarotonga particularly the tenure of lands held by commoners became increasingly less secure. Some were deprived of their lands in order that they might be leased to foreigners,<note xml:id="ftn3-188" n="3"><p>E.g. Wyatt Gill to LMS 28.10.<date when="1882">1882</date>.</p></note> others were evicted for minor breaches of courtesy which did not constitute breaches of law,<note xml:id="ftn4-188" n="4"><p>E.g. <hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 25.5.<date when="1895">1895</date>.</p></note> and not infrequently even holders of the lesser titles found themselves turned off their lands on apparently insignificant pretexts.<note xml:id="ftn5-188" n="5"><p>E.g. in <date when="1896">1896</date> Kainuku Ariki was reported as having ‘driven away a portion of his relatives from their houses and lands which they claim from their forefathers’. -<hi rend="u">Te Torea</hi> 21.3.<date when="1896">1896</date>. In <date when="1897">1897</date> Tinomana threatened eviction for any person who disregarded her ra'ui. - Te Torea 24.4.<date when="1897">1897</date>. Land Court records contain many examples of commoners and holders of minor titles being turned off their lands, e.g. MB 4:81 and 4:116 NLC. Moreover, many of the older generation today speak freely of this period as the time of the mana ariki or chiefly power, when discipline was severe and subservience mandatory.</p></note> There was a marked increase in the volume of
<pb n="189" xml:id="n189"/>
tribute supplied by the lower social orders.<note xml:id="ftn1-189" n="1"><p>E.g. MB 19:163–4 NLC; Harris to LMS <date when="1882-07">July 1882</date> SSR.</p></note> The end of the nineteenth century marked the peak of chiefly power over land in the group.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The impact of European culture during this century served to further differentiate the social classes, and to emphasize class stratification rather than the segmented aspect of the society which had hitherto been the more pronounced. It also resulted in a higher level and range of consumption. But, with the exception of the holding of rank titles by women and the abolition of the acquisition of land by warfare and ritual plunder, there was little change in the various customs relating to the tenure of land. However, in view of the vastly different context within which those customs operated, there was a considerable change in the relative incidence of various customary processes, and of their function in the operation of the society.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="190" xml:id="n190"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="9" xml:id="c9">
          <head>Chapter 10<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Establishment of the Land Court</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c9-1">
            <head>A shift in the balance of power</head>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1897">1897</date> chiefly power over land was at its height; but so long as the exercise of this power did not interfere unduly with New Zealand ambitions in the group it was tolerated, and even actively supported. Time was on New Zealand's side, for the islanders were thought to be dying out, and even they themselves appear to have been convinced that their extinction was ‘a foregoine conclusion’.<note xml:id="ftn1-190" n="1"><p>Moss, <hi rend="u">Fortnightly Review</hi> 54:776.</p></note> It is true that the Prime Minister considered that under the Protectorate system New Zealand was not gaining sufficient return in trade<note xml:id="ftn2-190" n="2"><p>Seddon to Governor 24.7.<date when="1894">1894</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> but his attempts to annex the group were thwarted by the Colonial Office.<note xml:id="ftn3-190" n="3"><p>File CO 209 <date when="1894">1894</date>–8 passim PRO.</p></note> In <date when="1896">1896</date>, when the Colonial Office was prepared to consider annexation by New Zealand under certain conditions, the Governor of New Zealand, who was the channel of communication, did not convey the information to the government as he feared their motives for wishing to assume responsibility for the group.<note xml:id="ftn4-190" n="4"><p>Governor to Colonial Office 16.7.<date when="1896">1896</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The Protectorate functioned satisfactorily enough while the local authorities concurred in the more important proposals of the Resident, and so long as their interaction was mutually advantageous. During <date when="1897">1897</date>, however, the
<pb n="191" xml:id="n191"/>
Resident drafted a bill for the local parliament, creating a court which was to have exclusive jurisdiction over cases in which foreigners were involved, and which was to act as a court of appeal from the ariki courts. The Resident proposed that he himself should be its Chief Judge. The effect of the bill would have been to subordinate the powers of the ariki to those of the Resident, and to free foreigners from the jurisdiction of the local courts.</p>
            <p rend="indent">While only judicial power was ostensibly in question, the ariki had found that the control of the courts was a powerful adjunct to political and economic power as well, and interpreted the proposal as ‘taking all our power and giving it to the British Resident’.<note xml:id="ftn1-191" n="1"><p>Minutes of Enquiry held before Sir James Prendergast 28.12.<date when="1897">1897</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> According to some sources the chiefs had been led to believe that if they passed the bill it would leave the way open for their losing not only all their authority but also their lands.<note xml:id="ftn2-191" n="2"><p>Moss to Hutchen 15.9.<date when="1897">1897</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> The ultimate sanction of chiefly power lay in the degree of chiefly control over the major source of subsistence and income: the land. The power to evict transgressors and to accommodate co-operative squatters was vital to the retention of their position. Members of the local parliament were nominated by the ariki and, ‘holding their land at the will of the said arikis’, were allegedly compelled to acquiesce to their proposals.<note xml:id="ftn3-191" n="3"><p>Moss' public statement of 29.9.<date when="1897">1897</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">When the parliament refused to pass the bill, Moss panicked and threatened to ‘take matters up with the Queen’. He dissolved the parliament and the ariki petitioned the Governor for his removal.<note xml:id="ftn4-191" n="4"><p>Petition of Makea, Pa, Karika, Kainuku, Tinomana and Ngamaru to Governor 7.9.<date when="1897">1897</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> The Governor requested the Chief
<pb n="192" xml:id="n192"/>
Judicial Commissioner of the <name key="name-032069" type="organisation">Western Pacific High Commission</name> to proceed to the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> by warship and investigate the matter.<note xml:id="ftn1-192" n="1"><p>Governor to Colonial Office 23.10.<date when="1897">1897</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> When the Commissioner stated his preference for travelling by passenger vessel neither the Governor nor the Prime Minister concurred, both considering that a warship was essential for ‘moral effect’, and Sir James Prendergast, the Chief Justice of New Zealand, was sent instead.<ref target="#ftn2-191"><hi rend="sup">2</hi></ref></p>
            <note xml:id="ftn2-192">
              <p><hi rend="sup">2</hi>Governor to Colonial Office 7.12.<date when="1897">1897</date> CO 209 PRO.</p>
            </note>
            <p rend="indent">Sir James realized that the system of land tenure, whereby commoners could be evicted at will by the high chiefs, was incompatible with an elective democracy, and that the chiefs would be most reluctant to relinquish the mana they had as ‘landowners'.<note xml:id="ftn3-192" n="3"><p>Prendergast to Governor 24.1.<date when="1898">1898</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> Prendergast's enquiry can hardly be described as impartial, for before the enquiry began he publicly reiterated New Zealand's confidence in Moss, and expressed displeasure at the fact that Moss’ advice over the court bill had not been heeded. He there-upon called on the Members of Parliament to explain why they had refused to pass the bill.<note xml:id="ftn4-192" n="4"><p>Minutes of Enquiry… <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note> Under interrogation from the Chief Justice, with a warship lying at anchor awaiting his deliberations, knowing that Malietoa, Mataafa and other Samoan chiefs had been banished by the Germans for displeasing their government, knowing also the consequences of the Maori wars in New Zealand for the ‘recalcitrant’ tribes, and the price paid by the Society Islanders for opposing the French, the chiefs claimed that they had not refused the bill, but merely wished for time to consider it.<note xml:id="ftn5-192" n="5"><p>With the frequent shipping connections and travel between the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> and neighbouring groups, visitors between them came and went. For example, a sister of the exiled Malietoa was living in Rarotonga, whence she maintained a correspondence with her brother – Correspondence of Rafala Maoate to Malietoa ATL; in <date when="1864">1864</date> two New Zealand Maori chiefs had been to Rarotonga seeking land on which to resettle their tribes - Krause to LMS 9.9.<date when="1864">1864</date> SSL; and on several occasions parties from Raiatea and other <name key="name-032033" type="place">Society Islands</name> had come to Rarotonga in an attempt to enlist aid in their troubles with the French. It was thus not without reason that Makea was ‘concerned at a rumour that she was to be deported and the islands annexed’ - Prendergast to Governor 24.1.<date when="1898">1898</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1898">1898</date>.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="193" xml:id="n193"/>
            <p rend="indent">As a result of the enquiry Moss was withdrawn and replaced by Colonel W.E. Gudgeon, a man of martial bearing who had won distinction in the wars against the Maoris of New Zealand, and believed that ‘stern authority’ was essential in dealings with Polynesians. He had been Resident Magistrate in two Maori districts and had served for several years as a judge of the Native Land Court of New Zealand. Gudgeon arrived by man-o'-war and was formally introduced at a full dress parade at which the naval commander read a proclamation declaring that Her Majesty Queen Victoria had ‘learned with much displeasure of their refusal to obey her wishes in regard to the enactment of the Federal Court Bill’.<note xml:id="ftn1-193" n="1"><p>Proclamation of the Governor 26.8.<date when="1898">1898</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note> The chiefs were warned of the consequences of any similar action in the future.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The High Court Bill was passed without question, Makea Ariki sent an abject apology to the Queen,<note xml:id="ftn2-193" n="2"><p>Makea Ariki to Governor 13.9.<date when="1898">1898</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> and the political power in the island was effectively transferred to the Resident. What the average islander thought about these proceedings is difficult to say. The struggle for power was between the ariki and the Europeans and both claimed to be supported by and representing the interests of the common villager. But as the sources of information are derived principally from one or other of the interested parties
<pb n="194" xml:id="n194"/>
(principally the European) and but little from the people affected, this must remain to some extent a matter of speculation. What is clear is that the common man did not participate in the struggle, and was probably but little aware at this stage of precisely what was going on.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Effects on land tenure were immediate. One of the first moves was the passing of ‘an act to secure uniformity in leases and security of tenure to foreign lessees’.<note xml:id="ftn1-194" n="1"><p>Sub-title of ‘The Land Act’ <date when="1899">1899</date>. Summaries of all legislation referred to are contained in <ref type="appendix" target="#a1">appendix A</ref>.</p></note> This act applied throughout the Federation (i.e. all the islands of the Southern Group) and was the first enactment relating to land to apply to more than a single island. Despite its wide application, its functions were confined almost exclusively to Rarotonga, and the administration of the act was made the responsibility of a Land Board which consisted of the Resident and the five ariki of Rarotonga.<note xml:id="ftn2-194" n="2"><p>At present there are six recognized ariki on the island, but at that time Vakatini was not recognized as one.</p></note> In addition, any mataiapo was entitled to a seat on the Board for such time as any matter relating to lands in his tapere was being discussed.</p>
            <p rend="indent">To qualify for registration a lease had to have the approval of the Resident and at least three of the ariki. The Board was entitled to stipulate conditions for leases, and no land could be leased to a foreigner if it was in the beneficial occupation of a native of the island concerned, or if a Maori had been ejected in order that the land might be leased. All leases had to be accompanied by survey plans, and had to specify the rental and term of the lease. The Board met on various occasions to consider leases: a few were modified, but only one or two were ever declined.</p>
            <pb n="195" xml:id="n195"/>
            <p rend="indent">One clause, apparently drafted by Colonel Gudgeon, read:</p>
            <q>
              <p>And whereas a large proportion of the best land in the island of Rarotonga is not in the beneficial occupation of any person and such land does not in any way add to the wealth or revenue of the island. And whereas there are a large number of persons of the Maori race in this island who have no land rights and who will never become producers unless fixity of tenure be given to them, it shall therefore be the duty of the Board to consider the means whereby land on perpetual lease may be secured to all of the deserving members of the native-born Rarotongans.<note xml:id="ftn1-195" n="1"><p>‘The Land Act’ <date when="1899">1899</date> clause 18.</p></note></p>
            </q>
            <p>With the power over tribal lands still vested in chiefly hands (and that power based to a considerable extent on the ultimate sanction of expulsion from the land) one could hardly expect that such a body would so openly invite a major reduction in power. No action appears to have been taken on this clause.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In the same year an act was passed giving increased powers to the Au (informally constituted district councils of elders, headed by the ariki). Among other things they were given power to require the planting of coconut trees by all people in their respective districts, to ‘report to the chief of the Government’ those persons who did not adequately utilize their lands, to impound wandering stock, to levy dog-tax, and to place the lands of the districts under ra'ui in order to minimize theft and permit bulk sale of product.<note xml:id="ftn2-195" n="2"><p>‘Au Empowering Act’ <date when="1899">1899</date>. This act extended and clarified the powers given to the Au under the ‘[Act] For electing the Au’ of <date when="1891">1891</date>.</p></note> Under local ordinances which were enacted by the Federal Parliament for the outer islands, local judges were made responsible for the settling of land disputes, though if either party wished to do so they could have their cases heard by the High Court (of which the Resident was Judge) instead. Provision was also made for
<pb n="196" xml:id="n196"/>
appeal from decisions of the local courts.<note xml:id="ftn1-196" n="1"><p>‘Statute of Atiu, Mauke and Mitiaro’ <date when="1899">1899</date>, ‘Statute of Mangaia’ <date when="1899">1899</date>, ‘Statute of Rarotonga’ <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note> In Aitutaki, however, all land disputes had to be heard by the European Resident Magistrate based at that island.<note xml:id="ftn2-196" n="2"><p>‘Statute of Aitutaki’ <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">A start in the direction of introducing land taxes was made with the passage of a law which provided that land occupied by foreigners was to be subject to a tax of one shilling in the pound of its rental value as a tax towards the execution of public works.<note xml:id="ftn3-196" n="3"><p>‘An Act to provide for the Rating of Land in the Occupation of Foreigners’ <date when="1899">1899</date>.</p></note> Maoris were not to be taxed in cash, but instead were to provide labour for public projects.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c9-2">
            <head>Annexation and the creation of a Land Court</head>
            <p rend="indent">Securing the passage of legislation was relatively easy, for the chiefs had learned the consequences of declining it, but having unpalatable legislation implemented in practice was much more difficult. Gudgeon could not at this stage force action which might antagonize the chiefs, for the Colonial Office would not consider annexation to New Zealand unless it was supported by the chiefs and, as Gudgeon said of himself:</p>
            <q>
              <p>I came here with the fixed intention of getting this group annexed; but on my arrival I found that the friends of Mr. Moss had made a bugbear of annexation…hence it was that for a long time I was very quiet, for it was absolutely necessary that I should gain the confidence of the arikis, and secondly that the Moss party should have no inkling of my real views, lest they should turn round and warn the Maoris that they were about to lose their mana.<note xml:id="ftn4-196" n="4"><p>Gudgeon to Seddon 29.8.<date when="1900">1900</date> NZNA.</p></note></p>
            </q>
            <p rend="indent">He did not inform the ariki of his further proposals for land reform, ‘For if I did,’ he reported to the Prime
<pb n="197" xml:id="n197"/>
Minister, ‘they would never consent to annexation’.<note xml:id="ftn1-197" n="1"><p>Gudgeon to Seddon 10.8.<date when="1900">1900</date> NZNA.</p></note> Annexation now became the immediate goal. Given the power to enforce his programme of agrarian reform, he claimed, he would make Rarotonga one of the most prosperous places in the world.<note xml:id="ftn2-197" n="2"><p>Gudgeon to Governor 2.4.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> The programme was often alluded to but never explained in detail, though it was to be achieved by giving security of tenure to the occupiers of the land, having the tribute paid by Maori commoners to the chiefs commuted to a fixed rental, and by nationalizing the land ‘with the rights of the land-holders being recognised’.<note xml:id="ftn3-197" n="3"><p>Ibid.</p></note> Just what was intended by this last phrase was not made clear.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1900">1900</date> the ariki of Rarotonga were persuaded to submit a petition requesting annexation to New Zealand.<note xml:id="ftn4-197" n="4"><p>Petition of Makea, Karika, Pa, Kainuku, Tinomana and Ngamaru to Governor 6.9.<date when="1900">1900</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1901">1901</date>. Ngamaru was one of the ariki of Atiu, but had resided on Rarotonga for many years and was Judge of the Avarua court. Some indication of the methods of persuasion used to get the petition is given in Gudgeon to Seddon 29.8.<date when="1900">1900</date>, 8.9.<date when="1900">1900</date> and 4.9.<date when="1900">1900</date> NZNA.</p></note> The Colonial Office was now agreeable in principle, but required that native lands be protected to prevent reckless alienation.<note xml:id="ftn5-197" n="5"><p>Colonial Office to Governor 15.8.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO. The petitioners had requested ‘that the land rights of the people shall not be vitiated by annexation’ but had not elaborated the point further.</p></note> To meet this requirement, New Zealand proposed that a Land Court similar to that operating in New Zealand would be set up to determine ownership of land, and that alienation would be permitted only through the Crown to prevent the Maori people becoming landless. The Court was to be given wide powers to assert the rights of the common people, for the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> did not accept the ‘feudal
<pb n="198" xml:id="n198"/>
ownership’ under which the ariki had allegedly asserted ‘rights to the whole of the islands’.<note xml:id="ftn1-198" n="1"><p>Seddon to Governor 18.8.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> As an alternative, New Zealand proposed that a fixed sum might be paid to the ariki to concede all their rights, and the Crown would then assume responsibility for all land, setting aside sufficient for the use of the Maoris.<note xml:id="ftn2-198" n="2"><p>This proposal was not acted upon.</p></note> These were possibilities, not commitments, and the actualities were left to be worked out at a later date.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A Colonial Office minute on the above proposals affirmed the necessity for fixity of tenure, and queried whether the title to land should be individual or vested in the tribe or other group.<note xml:id="ftn3-198" n="3"><p>Colonial Office minute on Seddon to Governor 18.8.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> They did not raise these points with the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name>, however, but merely expressed their hope that ‘liberal provision’ would be made for native interests.<note xml:id="ftn4-198" n="4"><p>Colonial Office to Governor 7.11.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> Annexation was effected harmoniously and without question. The chiefs of Mangaia asked for clarification on the matter of land ownership but, when they were assured that native ownership of the land was acknowledged, they unanimously assented to annexation.<note xml:id="ftn5-198" n="5"><p>Governor to Colonial Office 31.10.<date when="1900">1900</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="3" xml:id="c9-3">
            <head>The Court established</head>
            <p rend="indent">Administration of the group was provided for by the Cook and Other Islands Government Act,<note xml:id="ftn6-198" n="6"><p>‘Cook and Other Islands Government Act’ <date when="1901">1901</date>.</p></note> under which existing laws and customs were to remain in the interim, but which gave the Governor in Council full powers to introduce whatever measures he deemed expedient - what the Colonial Office
<pb n="199" xml:id="n199"/>
described as ‘power to do whatever he likes’.<note xml:id="ftn1-199" n="1"><p>Colonial Office minute on Governor to Colonial Office 18.12.<date when="1901">1901</date> CO 209 PRO.</p></note> Specific provision was made for the establishment of ‘a tribunal…with such powers and functions as he [the Governor] thinks fit, in order to ascertain and determine the title to land within the said islands…’.<note xml:id="ftn2-199" n="2"><p>‘Cook and Other Islands Government Act’ <date when="1901">1901</date> section 6.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">‘If we wish to increase the productiveness of the Islands,’ said Mr Seddon in introducing the act to parliament, ‘[and] to further the settlement of a European population on the land, we shall have to give security of tenure and we shall have to encourage planting by the natives themselves.’<note xml:id="ftn3-199" n="3"><p><hi rend="u">Hansard</hi> 119:286.</p></note> This was the crux of New Zealand's policy for the next few years - to determine the ownership of land in order to increase production, in the first place by the islanders from such lands as they were using, and secondly by making such lands as they were not actively exploiting available to European settlers. In the initial stages alienation to foreigners was to be by way of lease only.<note xml:id="ftn4-199" n="4"><p>This was not provided for in the legislation, but an assurance to this effect was given by the Prime Minister. - <hi rend="u">Hansard</hi> 119:289.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">By Order in Council of 7.7.<date when="1902">1902</date> the Cook and Other Islands Land Titles Court (which will be referred to simply as the Land Court) came into existence. The Court was to consist of not less than two judges, one of whom was designated Chief Judge. It was given power to investigate titles to land, determine successors, impose limits on alienation, reserve land for public purposes, deal with leases, and to handle other matters relative to the tenure of land. The
<pb n="200" xml:id="n200"/>
Chief Judge, who had to be European, was empowered to hold Court sitting alone. No judge who was not a European could exercise jurisdiction except when sitting with the Chief Judge. Gudgeon was appointed as Chief Judge, and Pa Ariki as a Judge.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The Order in Council, which was drafted by Gudgeon,<note xml:id="ftn1-200" n="1"><p>Gudgeon to Seddon 7.3.<date when="1902">1902</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1903">1903</date>.</p></note> provided that the Chief Judge could ‘make and prescribe rules of practice and procedure’ for the Court. The rules and regulations made under this provision laid down the procedures to be followed in investigation of title, succession, alienation, and other matters.<note xml:id="ftn2-200" n="2"><p>‘Rules and Regulations of the Cook and Other Islands Land Titles Court’ <date when="1902">1902</date>.</p></note> The fixing of the Court's modus operandi took up the first one hundred and twenty-six clauses, while the one hundred and twenty-seventh gave the Court the right to dispense with any of the preceding clauses, with the exception of eight machinery clauses which dealt with Court documents.</p>
            <p rend="indent">As Administrator, Chief Judge of a Court of his design, head of the local legislature, and representative of New Zealand, Gudgeon was now in a much more powerful position than any ariki had ever been. The adoption of his land reform programme was now assured.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="4" xml:id="c9-4">
            <head>Foreign settlement</head>
            <p rend="indent">The stated objects of the Land Court were to increase productivity from native farms and to open unused lands for European settlers. The question of productivity from native lands will be dealt with later, and attention will now be given to the effectiveness of the policy of European settlement. This policy assumed three premises - firstly that there were large areas of fertile land lying waste, secondly that
<pb n="201" xml:id="n201"/>
the Maori population was dying out, and thirdly that the unused land would be made available for settlers by one means or another.</p>
            <p rend="indent">As to the first premise, Gudgeon considered shortly after his arrival that 10,000 acres on Rarotonga alone should be available for leasing.<note xml:id="ftn1-201" n="1"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1899:23.</p></note> In fact, Rarotonga has a total of only 3,700 acres of land suitable for agriculture and a further 1,530 acres which can be used for tree crops;<note xml:id="ftn2-201" n="2"><p>Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils…</hi> 41.</p></note> and as at that time the island had a Maori population of over 2,000, this allowed less than three acres per head. In Atiu, he declared, there was four times as much waste land as at Rarotonga, and ‘every inch’ of the island was considered worthy of cultivation.<note xml:id="ftn3-201" n="3"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1902:49, and Gudgeon to Mills 28.5.<date when="1903">1903</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1904">1904</date>.</p></note> Land surveys were to be conducted there to determine ‘the area and character of the waste land available for settlement by Europeans’.<note xml:id="ftn4-201" n="4"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1902:50.</p></note> The total area of land suitable for agriculture on Atiu is 1,158 acres, with a further 3,386 acres usable for tree crops.<note xml:id="ftn5-201" n="5"><p>Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils…</hi> 41.</p></note> The indigenous population of the island was then just under 1,000. ‘Mauke’, the Resident claimed, ‘may fairly be regarded as equal to forty square miles of the best land in New Zealand’;<note xml:id="ftn6-201" n="6"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1902:50.</p></note> yet the actual area of Mauke is only seven square miles, less than two of which are suitable for agriculture.<note xml:id="ftn7-201" n="7"><p>Fox and Grange, <hi rend="u">Soils…</hi> 41.</p></note> This gave only two and a half acres of agricultural land per head of the then population. Even
<pb n="202" xml:id="n202"/>
allowing for the fact that the islands were as yet unsurveyed, Gudgeon's estimates were quite unrealistic.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The second premise, that of a dying Maori population, was supported by the demographic data then available. At the turn of the century, however, the decline ceased. The policy-makers cannot be blamed for not knowing that, almost from the moment of annexation of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>, an upward trend of population growth was occurring throughout the length and breadth of the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>.<note xml:id="ftn1-202" n="1"><p>McArthur, <hi rend="u">Populations…</hi> passim.</p></note> Though the population had reached its lowest ebb in the 1870s and had subsequently risen, this data was probably not available to the Administration. The censuses of <date when="1895">1895</date>, 1901 and 1902 did show a slow downward trend, and combined with knowledge of rapid population decline in the first three decades after contact (which Gudgeon was aware of and quoted) he was no doubt justified in assuming that the decline would continue. The rate of decline shown by the three censuses mentioned, however, was quite slow, and hardly justified the assertion that ‘at no very distant date the present native population will either die out or become so much reduced in numbers that it will be necessary to replace them with a foreign population’.<note xml:id="ftn2-202" n="2"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1902:55.</p></note> In fact, the population increased steadily from <date when="1902">1902</date> onwards.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The Administration's third assumption was that unused land would be made available for settlers. It was supposed that once the islanders had their land rights assured by the award of documentary titles they would be anxious to lease such as they were not actively using in order to obtain additional income. If they were not prepared to do so voluntarily, however, the Resident proposed that the
<pb n="203" xml:id="n203"/>
government be empowered to assume control over unused lands and lease them on behalf of the owners.<note xml:id="ftn1-203" n="1"><p>Ibid.</p></note> The Court began its work in the Titikaveka area of Rarotonga, as that was the least utilized part of the island and had the largest tracts available for leasing. Once the Court's work was completed, the Resident prophesied, the whole of the Titikaveka district would be settled by Europeans only.<note xml:id="ftn2-203" n="2"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1903:24.</p></note> However, after ownership of most of the land was determined in <date when="1903">1903</date>, it was found that very few of the owners were prepared to make any portion available for lease.<note xml:id="ftn3-203" n="3"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1904:70.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">When the Resident requested that he be given authority to enable him to enforce the leasing of unused land, the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> was not prepared to grant it. A few years earlier New Zealand had hoped to annex <name key="name-020057" type="place">Tonga</name>, <name key="name-021537" type="place">Samoa</name> and <name key="name-000854" type="place">Fiji</name>, but none of these ambitions had been realized, and the vision of a <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name> empire had faded. In <date when="1903">1903</date> a delegation of thirty-three members of the New Zealand Parliament visited the islands, and, judging from the tenor of debates in the House following their visit, members had developed a considerable sympathy for the point of view of the island people.<note xml:id="ftn4-203" n="4"><p><hi rend="u">Hansard</hi> volumes 125–30 passim.</p></note> The chiefs had informed the delegation of their unanimous opposition to the sale of land,<note xml:id="ftn5-203" n="5"><p>Minutes of meeting of 28.4.<date when="1903">1903</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3(b) <date when="1903">1903</date>.</p></note> and the Opposition was particularly vocal on the question of protecting native land rights. Under these circumstances the government was agreeable to the compulsory acquisition of land only if the local Federal Council was prepared to pass the
<pb n="204" xml:id="n204"/>
necessary legislation. As may be expected, the Federal Council would not do so.<note xml:id="ftn1-204" n="1"><p>Gudgeon to Mills 12.9.<date when="1904">1904</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1905">1905</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1905">1905</date> the Minister still hoped that a settlement programme could be effected by persuasion rather than compulsion, and reported that numerous applications for land had been received from prospective settlers, though as yet the government was unable to give them any assurance as to its availability.<note xml:id="ftn2-204" n="2"><p>Mills' covering memorandum of 1.9.<date when="1905">1905</date> to the annual report for the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1905">1905</date>.</p></note> He nevertheless promised to compile details of surplus lands for the information of settlers, and hoped that the islanders would soon be induced to lease them more readily. In the following year the situation was unchanged. Indigenous opposition to foreign settlement remained firm, and was supported throughout by the London Missionary Society, which, in addition to its constant pastoral contact with the people, published the only periodical in the vernacular. Referring to the situation in Rarotonga in <date when="1906">1906</date>, the editor pointed out that ‘there are only 8,000 usable acres to be divided amongst 2,000 natives…. There does not seem to be much land left to lease’.<note xml:id="ftn3-204" n="3"><p><hi rend="u">Te Karere</hi> <date when="1906-01">January 1906</date>.</p></note> The survey of the island, which was by then well advanced, confirmed the view that there was much less fertile land than had previously been supposed. With opposition from within the territory and little support from Wellington, the settler question faded quietly away.</p>
            <p rend="indent">A few settlers<note xml:id="ftn4-204" n="4"><p>By settlers is meant foreigners (invariably Europeans from <date when="1900">1900</date> onwards) whose livelihood was obtained from the production of export crops.</p></note> had indeed obtained leases on Rarotonga, but their number has never exceeded twenty-five, and on all the outer islands put together there have never since
<pb n="205" xml:id="n205"/>
annexation been more than a scattered dozen or so. The amount of land leased to foreigners increased by only 237 acres between 1906 and 1920,<note xml:id="ftn1-205" n="1"><p><hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1907">1907</date>:6 and <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A4 1920:48.</p></note> and the number of foreign settlers in the group remained insignificant, being seventeen in <date when="1906">1906</date> and sixteen in <date when="1922">1922</date>. The remaining few were severely affected by the economic depression of the 1930s, when almost half the land leased by Europeans changed hands to settle outstanding debts.<note xml:id="ftn2-205" n="2"><p><hi rend="u">Hansard</hi> 247:336.</p></note> The foreign plantations never recovered and today not a single foreigner derives his livelihood exclusively from export production.</p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="5" xml:id="c9-5">
            <head>The act of <date when="1915">1915</date>: preservation of custom</head>
            <p rend="indent">An act was passed in <date when="1915">1915</date> which made some modifications to the existing laws of land tenure, and which elaborated and clarified the jurisdiction of the Land Court.<note xml:id="ftn3-205" n="3"><p>‘The Cook Islands Act’ <date when="1915">1915</date>.</p></note> Perhaps the major change was one of emphasis, for whereas the earlie enactments had been designed in part at least to delimit the areas of land needed by the Maoris in order to make the balance available for foreign settlement, the <date when="1915">1915</date> act was based on the recognition of land as the essential basis of Maori life.<note xml:id="ftn4-205" n="4"><p>This law was not drafted in response to any pressure for reform, but merely due to the fact that it was discovered that through a technical error the laws of the islands were void and the past work of the Land Court needed to be validated. - Northcroft to Pomare 27.5.<date when="1914">1914</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1914">1914</date>.</p></note> The emphasis was on protection, the observance of custom and the retention of land as the primary source of subsistence. This was no doubt due in part to the failur of the settler policy and the programme of colonial expansion in the <name key="name-008892" type="place">Pacific</name>; and in part to the fact that from <date when="1909">1909</date> onwards the ministers in charge of the islands were themselv
<pb n="206" xml:id="n206"/>
New Zealand Maoris - men who were struggling at home to preserve the remaining Maori lands for the benefit of the Maori people.<note xml:id="ftn1-206" n="1"><p>Maoris who held the islands portfolio were Sir James Carrol (1909–13), Sir Maui Pomare (1913–28) and Sir Apirana Ngata (1929–35).</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">The name of the Court was changed to the Native Land Court, and it was to consist of a Chief Judge and such other judges as were deemed necessary.<note xml:id="ftn2-206" n="2"><p>The name of the Court had been changed in <date when="1908">1908</date> from ‘The Cook and Other Islands Land Titles Court’ to ‘The Cook Islands Land Titles Court’. - ‘Cook Islands Government Act’ <date when="1908">1908</date>.</p></note> In practice, however, not more than one judge was appointed concurrently until <date when="1946">1946</date>. Pa Ariki, the only islander ever appointed as a judge, died in <date when="1906">1906</date> and no other indigenous judge was ever appointed. The act recognized four categories of land:</p>
            <list type="simple">
              <label>1.</label>
              <item>
                <p>Crown land;<note xml:id="ftn3-206" n="3"><p>While all land in the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> vests ultimately in the Crown, the term ‘Crown land’ is usually reserved to apply to those lands which have been set aside by the Court for public purposes, and it is with this connotation that the term is used in this study.</p></note></p>
              </item>
              <label>2.</label>
              <item>
                <p>Customary land: being that which was ‘held by Natives or descendants of Natives under Native customs and usages of the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name>’ (i.e. land the title to which had not been investigated by the Land Court);</p>
              </item>
              <label>3.</label>
              <item>
                <p>Native freehold land (i.e. land which had been customary land, but in respect of which a registered title had been issued by the Court to the persons it found to be the customary owners);</p>
              </item>
              <label>4.</label>
              <item>
                <p>European land: being land other than native freehold land, the fee simple of which had been alienated to any person.<note xml:id="ftn4-206" n="4"><p>The area in acres of land in the various categories in <date when="1958">1958</date> was as follows:</p>
<table rows="7" cols="4"><row><cell/><cell>Rarotonga</cell><cell>Other Islands</cell><cell>Total</cell></row><row><cell>Crown land</cell><cell>234</cell><cell>716</cell><cell>950</cell></row><row><cell>Customary land</cell><cell>3,181</cell><cell>23,903</cell><cell>27,084</cell></row><row><cell>Native freehold land</cell><cell>12,986</cell><cell>16,336</cell><cell>29,322</cell></row><row><cell>European land (the only land in this category is that vested in religious bodies)</cell><cell>201</cell><cell>69</cell><cell>270</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>——</cell><cell>——</cell><cell>——</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>16,602</cell><cell>41,024</cell><cell>57,626</cell></row></table>

<p>(Source: LEGAS <date when="1958">1958</date> paper number 59 and <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1958:24.) Of the above native freehold land the amounts alienated by way of lease in <date when="1960">1960</date> were as follows:</p>

<table rows="5" cols="4"><row><cell>Leased by Europeans</cell><cell>1,312</cell><cell>1,592<note xml:id="ftn5-206" n="*"><p>1,544 acres of this being the island of Manuae, which has since <date when="1961-03">March 1961</date> been leased by an indigenous co-operative society.</p></note></cell><cell>2,904</cell></row><row><cell>Leased by the Crown</cell><cell>146</cell><cell>210</cell><cell>356</cell></row><row><cell>Leased by Maoris</cell><cell>655</cell><cell>22</cell><cell>677</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>——</cell><cell>——</cell><cell>——</cell></row><row><cell/><cell>2,113</cell><cell>1,824</cell><cell>3,937</cell></row></table>

<p>(Source: <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1960:23)</p></note></p>
              </item>
            </list>
            <pb n="207" xml:id="n207"/>
            <p>All land lying below high water mark was declared to be Crown land, thus annulling the indigenous pattern of rights to reef and lagoon waters.<note xml:id="ftn1-207" n="1"><p>‘Cook Islands Act’ <date when="1915">1915</date> section 419. Prior to this date the Court had refrained from awarding interests to land below high water mark.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In general the act followed the earlier enactment under which the Land Court had operated, but several innovations were introduced. Permanent alienation of land (other than to the Crown for public purposes) was prohibited, and leases and other forms of partial alienation were limited to a maximum of sixty years.<note xml:id="ftn2-207" n="2"><p>Ibid. sections 467–9.</p></note> While this constituted a change in legislation, it merely confirmed the practice which had been observed for many years, for though in its early years the Court had approved of some leases of ninety-nine years duration, no sales of Maori land were ever recorded. In the initial stages this was due to local opposition and in later years to pressure from Wellington.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Wills were invalidated in so far as they related to rights in customary and freehold land,<note xml:id="ftn3-207" n="3"><p>Ibid. section 445.</p></note> and as these had been one of the means by which rights were periodically redistributed (usually with the effect of adjusting to changed demographic circumstances) an element of rigidity was thereby introduced.<note xml:id="ftn4-207" n="4"><p>This restriction was probably imposed in order to avoid concealed alienation (such as secret sale) being effected under the guise of a will.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="208" xml:id="n208"/>
            <p rend="indent">Provision was also made whereby a chief could hold land by virtue of his office as the holder of a particular title.<note xml:id="ftn1-208" n="1"><p>‘Cook Islands Act’ <date when="1915">1915</date> section 426.</p></note> Such lands were to vest in the chief in fee simple, and to pass to successive holders of the title. Though many lands had previously been awarded to persons who held chiefly titles, it was not always clear whether they were intended to hold the rights in their personal capacity or in their role as titleholders. The distinction was necessary in order to know who was entitled to succeed to such lands when a chief died (i.e. whether his children would succeed or his successor in office), who would be entitled to the lands if a chief was deprived of office during his lifetime, and what obligations would affix to the land.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In granting freehold orders involving multiple owners, the Court was required to specify the relative interests of each owner in the land concerned.<note xml:id="ftn2-208" n="2"><p>Ibid. section 423.</p></note> A similar provision had been made in the original enactment, but it had seldom been followed in practice. While it was occasionally followed after the passing of the <date when="1915">1915</date> act, it was not until the 1940s that it became a routine practice of the Court. Such shares are not defined on the ground and do not relate to any particular portion of the land concerned, but simply represent the Court's evaluation of the proportionate interest of the various owners. This provision is, of course, out of harmony with the flexibility of custom, but was presumably originally introduced as a carry-over to the <name key="name-031209" type="place">Cook Islands</name> from the legislation relating to Maori lands in New Zealand, where it was a technique to facilitate negotiation with settlers and the distribution of proceeds from the lease or sale of land.</p>
            <pb n="209" xml:id="n209"/>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="6" xml:id="c9-6">
            <head>Appeals and rehearings</head>
            <p rend="indent">Until <date when="1946">1946</date> there was in practice no functional system of appeal. Both the Order in Council of <date when="1902">1902</date> and the act of <date when="1915">1915</date> made provision for rehearing<note xml:id="ftn1-209" n="1"><p>Order in Council <date when="1902">1902</date> clause 10 (15-a) and ‘Cook Islands Act’ <date when="1915">1915</date> section 390.</p></note> but the granting of a rehearing was subject to the approval of the Land Court, and if approved it was usually heard by the same judge as took the case originally.<note xml:id="ftn2-209" n="2"><p>Actual rehearings were few indeed.</p></note> The act of <date when="1915">1915</date> did make provision for appeal to the Supreme Court of New Zealand, but this, too, was conditional on the approval of the Land Court. It was unlikely that many islanders were aware of this provision, or in a position to finance such an undertaking if they had been.<note xml:id="ftn3-209" n="3"><p>So far as I am aware no land case has ever been taken to the Supreme Court.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">In <date when="1946">1946</date>, following recommendations made in the report of Judge Harvey of the New Zealand Native Land Court,<note xml:id="ftn4-209" n="4"><p>Harvey, ‘Report to the Right Honourable the Minister of Island Territories’ 35–6.</p></note> an Appellate Court was established which was to comprise any two or more judges of the New Zealand Native Land Court or of the Cook Islands Native Land Court (other than the judge who determined the issue in dispute).<note xml:id="ftn5-209" n="5"><p>‘Cook Islands Amendment Act’ <date when="1946">1946</date> sections 19–40.</p></note> At the same time provision was made for appeals from decisions of the Cook Islands Native Land Court to lie as of right in future.<note xml:id="ftn6-209" n="6"><p>Ibid. section 25.</p></note> Moreover, to meet the requests of numerous persons who claimed to be adversely affected by earlier decisions of the Court, special provision was made to enable such persons to appeal (within one year) against any decision of the Court back to the time of its inception. This was intended particularly to open the way for re-investigation of title to those
<pb n="210" xml:id="n210"/>
lands which Judge Gudgeon had awarded for life interests only to ariki and which Judge McCormick had turned into fee simple by succession order.</p>
            <p rend="indent">The Appellate Court first sat in <date when="1948">1948</date> and held annual sittings until <date when="1952">1952</date> in order to clear up a backlog of appeals. As intended, a significant proportion of the appeals against earlier decisions of the Court were in relation to lands which had been awarded originally to ariki for life interests only. The most important of these dealt with lands in the Avatiu and Nikao tapere and resulted in the loss of those lands by the ariki and their award to the issue of the persons found to have been the original owners. Many of my informants claimed that they would have appealed against other decisions as well but were unable to do so owing to the fact that the elders of the family who knew the relevant details had died (while the bases of the claims had not been recorded by the younger generation as they considered that nothing could be done). Some who did successfully contest rights to one section of land stated that they would have claimed for others also but were not sure how the Court would function in practice and accordingly did not wish to commit themselves too deeply. By the time the first cases were heard, of cours the time for the lodgement of appeals had expired.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Having dealt with the outstanding appeals the Appellate Court became a routine adjunct to the work of the Land Court and has since sat at three-yearly intervals. While sittings are normally held in Rarotonga, every attempt is made to ensure that it is accessible to the island people and sittings have been held in Aitutaki, Mauke and Atiu.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <pb n="211" xml:id="n211"/>
        <div type="chapter" n="10" xml:id="c10">
          <head>Chapter 11<lb/>
<hi rend="c">The Land Court in Action</hi></head>
          <div type="section" n="1" xml:id="c10-1">
            <head>Determining ownership</head>
            <p rend="indent">The main function of the Court in its dealings with natives was to determine the customary owners of the land and to issue them with registered titles. These were known as ‘freehold’ titles, though the term carries a different connotation from that in New Zealand or England, for a Cook Islander with a ‘freehold’ title has no power of devise and is usually one of many co-parceners.</p>
            <p rend="indent">As indicated in part one of this study, a variety of classes of rights in land was held by a hierarchy of social groups and by a wide range of persons; the exact nature of the right of each individual depending on his or her status within, or relationship to, that descent group which held the primary rights to the land. Judge Gudgeon aimed to issue title to what he called the ‘true’ (or ‘real’) owners, and it is clear from his writings that when he spoke of ‘true’ owners he was referring to the primary members of the occupying minor lineage (or to an individual or sub-group within that minor lineage) to whom the land in question had been allocated under custom. Such persons are referred to here as primary right-holders. It was essential, he felt, that each ‘cultivator’ should hold his own plot of land ‘either in fee simple or by perpetual lease at a nominal rent’.<note xml:id="ftn1-211" n="1"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1902:48.</p></note></p>
            <pb n="212" xml:id="n212"/>
            <p rend="indent">He was aware of the fact that under native custom multiple rights were held in each section of land, but specifically provided the means whereby the Court would strengthen and confirm the claims of the primary right-holders and annul all other forms of rights. The reason for this action was two-fold: firstly, by breaking down the hierarchy of rights he hoped to achieve security of tenure and a lessening of tribute (as evictions and demands for tribute were invariably made by the heads of the higher segments of the social hierarchy); and secondly, by annulling the secondary rights of persons of the same social class as the primary right-holders he hoped to abolish the customary claims of kin and affines to the use, and more particularly to the produce, of the lands of their relatives (as the demands of kin were felt to be an obstacle to increased output). In short, whereas under custom one's land rights were a function of one's place within the social structure and conditional upon those of others, the Court proposed to give unencumbered rights to individuals, and to annul what it considered to be production-limiting customs which vested titles in persons as representatives of groups and limited the use to which they could put their rights.</p>
            <p rend="indent">This intention of the Court resulted in a very considerable modification to custom. Such a change may well have been justified, for the customary tenure system was evolved to meet the needs of an isolated subsistence economy, and by <date when="1902">1902</date> the people had participated to some degree in a market economy for three generations. Means of ensuring increased security of tenure for the cultivator were probably desirable, for whereas in the pre-contact economy it was seldom in a chief's economic interests to evict a member of his group, in the changed economy of the late nineteenth
<pb n="213" xml:id="n213"/>
century it was often to his material advantage to do so. Moreover, the Court had been designed to facilitate increased production for export, and it was considered that this could be best achieved by reducing the number of persons with claims to each section of land as far as possible.</p>
            <p rend="indent">To what extent then did the early Court achieve its aim? An analysis of all cases dealt with in Rarotonga from the first sitting on 2 April 1903 until 18 April 1905 shows that of the 167 sections of land investigated,<note xml:id="ftn1-213" n="1"><p>This does not include village house-sites held under the akonoanga oire, leases, or church lands.</p></note> some 55 (or 33 per cent) were awarded to ariki solely, 16 (or 10 per cent) to mataiapo solely, and 12 (or 7 per cent) to other titleholders. In total then, fifty per cent of the lands were awarded exclusively to titleholders.<note xml:id="ftn2-213" n="2"><p>The ariki and mataiapo would at this time have constituted about two per cent of the island's population.</p></note> While it has not been possible to compile data on the areas involved, it would appear that the areas awarded to titleholders only were as large or larger than those awarded to others, though they were frequently in the less densely settled areas of the island.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Of the other 84 sections, some 13 were awarded to ariki and members of their immediate families, 4 to ariki and commoners jointly, 33 to mataiapo and commoners jointly, 16 to rangatira and commoners jointly, and only 18 to persons who were either commoners or whose rank status is not known to me.<note xml:id="ftn3-213" n="3"><p>It is quite possible that some of the persons in this last group were in fact rangatira or komono. The Court seldom mentioned the rank of the persons to whom it made awards, and titles of the above two categories are so numerous that it was not possible to compile a comprehensive list of them.</p></note> Of the whole 167 sections, almost ninety per cent were awarded to either titleholders alone or titleholders
<pb n="214" xml:id="n214"/>
jointly with some of their followers. In most instances where untitled persons were included in the awards they were not all the persons with primary rights to the land concerned, but were the heads of extended families.</p>
            <p rend="indent">According to the Judge's own criteria of what constituted a ‘true’ owner, his judgements at this period were not giving effect to his stated policy, for as only those persons named in the orders of title had any legal right to the land the junior members of many families were deprived of all rights to the land they were planting. The actual situation was close to the antithesis of that which it had been supposed would result from the operation of the Land Court. Fortunately, however, it would appear that custom in this matter was stronger than the legal provisions, and that, in the early years at least, the chiefs in effect regarded their title to the land as one of trusteeship rather than outright ownership, and the junior branches continued to occupy as before.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Judge Gudgeon was well aware that his awards were often not consistent with his intentions, but found his hands tied by the fact that:</p>
            <q>
              <p>From time immemorial it has been the custom to regard the eldest born of the senior branch of the family (mataiapo) as the natural guardian and trustee of the family land, as the man who, by right of birth and by subsequent election by the elders of the tribe, should manage the whole estate in the interests of the family…. So great is their respect for this old custom that it is well-nigh impossible to make those who are most deeply interested come forward and claim inclusion in the list of names. They are quite satisfied to have the names of one or two elders of the family placed on the Court records, and cheerfully ignore the possible legal effects of their own prejudices.<note xml:id="ftn1-214" n="1"><p>Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 1904:70–1.</p></note></p>
            </q>
            <p>In the same paragraph he goes on to claim that the people did not recognize the right of the titleholder as being
<pb n="215" xml:id="n215"/>
‘any greater than that of any junior member’, but this assertion would appear to contradict the above quotation, as well as other available evidence.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Henceforth, to avoid further aggregation of chiefly power over land, the Judge gave greater emphasis to ensuring that each ‘family’ (minor lineage or kiato) had separate lands awarded to it. As far as possible he insisted on recording the names of all adult members of the ‘family’ concerned, in some cases going so far as to include affines, but they were recorded as joint owners in each section rather than each man having an individual section allotted to him as the Court had earlier intended.</p>
            <p rend="indent">In the early years of the Court's operation there was but little proper investigation of ownership. It was usual for a claimant to stand and assert ‘I own this land’, whereupon the judge would ask whether there were any objectors, and if there were none he would award to the claimant or claimants without further ado. Substantiation of the claim was called for only when there was dispute. In many instances, no doubt, lack of dispute indicated the the claimant had derived his right by accepted processes of custom. Nevertheless, it was also in some cases due to the fact that other legitimate claimants were absent, intimidated, unaware of the fact that the case was being heard, or convinced that as junior members of the lineage it was not appropriate for them to appear in court and that their respective chiefs would be looking after their interests.<note xml:id="ftn1-215" n="1"><p>Evidence of persons in each of these categories is contained in the records of the Appellate Court which was set up in <date when="1946">1946</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Judge Gudgeon realized that at least some of the titled claimants to lands before the Court were either not the rightful ones or not the only ones, and if such cases were
<pb n="216" xml:id="n216"/>
not disputed he frequently awarded the claimant a life interest only, with the intention that investigation to the title of the land would thus be deferred until that person's death. By that time, he hoped, the function of the Court would be more widely understood and claimants who had been absent, intimidated or otherwise restrained from prosecuting their claims would be able to come forward and establish their rights. Perhaps equally important was the fact that Gudgeon had to play the dual role of judge and administrator, and the very chiefs whose rights he questioned were those whose co-operation he needed for the efficient administration of the territory. Granting them a life interest avoided the otherwise very real possibility of an embarrassing breach with the chiefs. This was not a case of merely delaying the evil day, for he was of the opinion that there would be no more ariki after the passing of those then reigning.<note xml:id="ftn1-216" n="1"><p>This view seemed plausible owing to the fact that the three most prominent ariki of Rarotonga, and the leading ariki of Atiu were all childless. Gudgeon regarded the <name key="name-022826" type="organisation">New Zealand Government</name> as ‘the natural successor to the present Arikis’. - Gudgeon to Mills 18.7.<date when="1905">1905</date> <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1906">1906</date>. He later modified this view to the extent that he considered successors could possibly be permitted if they gave a written undertaking ‘that they understand that the old powers of the Ariki have gone for ever, except where conserved and recognised by the law…’. - Gudgeon, <hi rend="u">NZPP</hi> A3 <date when="1908">1908</date>:6.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">By the time the holders of many of the life interests had died, Judge Gudgeon had retired. His successor, Mr Eman Smith, never exercised his powers as a Judge of the Land Court, and it was not until <date when="1913">1913</date>, when Judge McCormick was appointed as Resident and Judge, that work relating to land titles was resumed. Whether because he did not understand Judge Gudgeon's reasons for granting life interests only, or whether due to his administrative responsibilities it would have been an embarrassment to reopen these cases (for despite Gudgeon's proposals no limitations were imposed on the
<pb n="217" xml:id="n217"/>
succession to ariki titles) Judge McCormick proceeded by way of amendment of title. Firstly he declared that the original orders concerned did not give effect to the ‘intended’ decisions of the earlier Court, and then amended them by adding the words: ‘With remainder to such person or persons as the Court may by succession order declare to be the true owners of the land described therein’.<note xml:id="ftn1-217" n="1"><p>MB 5:158 NLC. Power to amend orders of title was given in clause 25 of the Order in Council of <date when="1902">1902</date>.</p></note></p>
            <p rend="indent">Having thus empowered himself to grant succession, he proceeded to award it without further investigation to the heirs of those chiefs who had held the life interests. There was of course no legal provision for granting succession to life interests, and this action, which has been severely criticized by later judges,<note xml:id="ftn2-217" n="2"><p>E.g. by Judges Morison, Harvey and Morgan in AMB 1:185 NLC.</p></note> was the cause of considerable litigation in the late 1940s when provision was made to reopen certain categories of cases on appeal.<note xml:id="ftn3-217" n="3"><p>Title to lands wherein succession was granted to a life interest, but which have not been challenged in the Appellate Court, still remain uninvestigated today, for the reason that unless the de facto possessors apply to the Court for investigation, no jurisdiction exists under which they can be re-opened.</p></note></p>
          </div>
          <div type="section" n="2" xml:id="c10-2">
            <head>Title to village lands</head>
            <p rend="indent">Arorangi was the first village investigated by the Court and there Tinomana Ariki claimed almost all the house-sites as successor to the original donee, and the remainder were claimed by subordinate titleholders on the same basis. None of the claimants disputed the right of the various householders to continue to occupy the sites. Each section was awarded to the ariki (or other titleholder) ‘subject to the occupation rights acquired by the house-owner thereon’.<note xml:id="ftn4-217" n="4"><p>MB 1:59–69 NLC.</p></note> Having thus granted a nominal proprietorship to the ariki,
<pb n="218" xml:id="n218"/>
the Judge provided that, so long as there were living descendants of the present householders, they would ‘be deemed to be the absolute owners of the house and land’.<note xml:id="ftn1-218" n="1"><p>Ibid.</p></note> Householders were required to pay an atinga (tribute) of one shilling per year to the ariki but otherwise their right was not dissimilar to a freehold order. In this way Judge Gudgeon was able to give security of tenure to the occupants without antagonizing the leading chiefs.</p>
            <p rend="indent">Similar arrangements were made in Avarua, where some ariki still today collect the shilling per year atinga, though probably more as affirmation of their residual ownership than for the cash involved. These are the only two villages in the whole group where legal provision was made for atinga to be paid by the householders, and reflects the fact that the ariki of these villages had achieved greater power than those elsewhere. The sum fixed by the Court was intended as a commutation of the much larger contributions in kind which were thought to have been exacted.</p>
            <p rend="indent">On Atiu and Aitutaki, and in the two inland villages of Mauke, the descendants of the original landowners voluntarily waived any claim to residual rights to village lands and the occupiers were issued with freehold orders. Kimiangatau, the coastal village of Mauke, was not set up until <date when="1904">1904</date>, when a large group who felt aggrieved by a decision of the Land Court left the inland villages to establish this new settlement. When title to the house-sites in this village was investigated in <date when="1959">1959</date> the landowners requested that they be granted the freehold of the land, and that the householders be granted occupation rights. The Court awarded accordingly. The orders of title each contain a clause to the effect that any section which is left unoccupied for five consecutive
<pb n="219" xml:id="n219"/>
years reverts automatically to the owners of the land. No atinga or other charge was levied on the occupiers. It will be noted that whereas in Avarua and Arorangi rights only reverted if the donee line died out, in Kimiangatau, which had been established under different circumstances, actual occupation was made an additional prerequisite for the retention of rights.</p>
            <p rend="indent">When villages were first established under the influence of the mission, the extremities of each were defined, and the total area contained within those extremities was considered to be village land held under the akonoanga oire. Each occupier and his issue was to have exclusive rights to the house-site allotted to him so long as they continued to occupy. But