Late last year I wrote about Massey’s student’s association, and suggested that the governance structure was flawed, and that the organisation needs to be wound up and replaced with Massey delivering the services themselves or with other service providers. Plenty has happened with Te Tira Ahu Pae since then, and although I am aware of the internal struggles and political backstabbing that has been going on, I don’t have publicly verifiable information to present here and I will not reduce this blog to hearsay.

This is a shame though, because the story of Te Tira Ahu Pae’s first two years as an entity of that name is fascinating; it rivals Game of Thrones with its political intrigue and, as George R. R. Martin would likely agree, it’s even better because it is nonfiction. Martin has a love of history and I insist that what actually happened in our past is far more interesting than anything a single mind can conjure in the realm of fiction. Alas, it is not my story to tell; I wasn’t at the coal face of this institution’s demise.

All I can report is that my blog entry in September 2023 caused quite a stir among the power brokers of Te Tira Ahu Pae, especially the last lines where I mysteriously stated:

“If it is best that Te Tira Ahu Pae winds up in its first year of operations, I would have to engineer that wind up procedure myself. I know how, and can do so alone, but that explanation will have to be for another time.”

My intention with this statement was to write a sister piece describing the exact methods outlined in the Te Tira Ahu Pae constitution to wind it up from within. The method is plain to see if you have the requisite reading skills of an academic or a lawyer, and I decided against writing the instructions because it had a feeling of animosity in isolation, and frankly I became bored. My original write up was good enough, and the veiled threat of imminent destruction was more alluring when the method remained unrevealed.

I did, however, conduct the first step of the wind up plan; ask for written confirmation that I was a member of Te Tira Ahu Pae. This seems simple enough, but as the constitution was written it was not clear who was a member and who wasn’t, and only members could carry out the wind up procedure I had planned. Members are not predetermined in Societies; there is a member list which is consulted to determine who is and isn’t a member, so when my request was ignored I also requested to view the member list. I never got a response beyond acknowledgement of my request, despite calling and emailing a couple of times.

After this, I stopped pursuing this plan; it was distasteful and I was only starting the process for my own entertainment at this point. I think, to my error, I caused distress to some Te Tira Ahu Pae staff members when I asked to see the members list, and to that I am regretful. As a studier of institutions I see them like a machine with buttons and levers, and I saw a button I wanted to press, just to see what would happen. I didn’t know that Te Tira Ahu Pae didn’t have a membership list (technically I still don’t know that; they never got back to me. But the request must be honoured as per their own constitution so I now assume no one had asked before and they were not prepared to respond, probably because they didn’t have one). Not having one is an offense; it carries prison sentences, so I dropped my inquiry when I realised that I might be risking putting someone in prison for the evil motivation of doing harm because it is permitted for me to do so (an outrageous affront to my ethics; justice isn’t putting everyone in prison who is eligible).

After this my involvement stopped, and I returned to being a passive observer as a student of Massey. I think I started an internal struggle, though, because I heard through rumour that the constitution was being utilised in creative ways; ways that were inspired by the recipe I had threatened to detail in my original post. Sure, I never wrote the method publicly, but I did tell people about it verbally and pointed people in the right direction with my first write up. It’s not a secret formula; members can change the constitution with the right amount of proxy votes. I just needed (if I remember correctly) 50 members to give me full proxy voting rights and then call my own Special General Meeting using those proxies to then change the constitution (or enact the wind up procedure). To stop me, an opponent would have to get enough proxies or attendees to the meeting to vote against me (some of the changes needed a two thirds majority so it’s easier to stop the motion than pass it), but as there were only 27 votes to wind up the old ASA (the precursor to Te Tira Ahu Pae), if I got 50 proxies no one would be able to stop me – the student body is hugely apathetic to this organisation, and me getting 50 votes would be difficult but not impossible. The Board of Te Tira Ahu Pae can more easily carry out constitutional changes because they can call the meeting without 50 votes, but then they would still need to stack the meeting with enough allies to get things through; which is much easier for them because they can fail to advertise the meeting properly and literally two people might show up that they don’t directly invite. I might have some of these details wrong; I’m writing this from memory from my investigation a full year ago but the essence is correct.

Being on the outside, I don’t know what the changes were or who was bringing them about. So why do I bring this up now? Because my suggestion/threat is being carried out by the boss; Massey University has today announced that they will cease funding Te Tira Ahu Pae for services starting 2025. Massey cannot wind up Te Tira Ahu Pae, but now they will receive no income from next year, so naturally I ask again;

Is it time to wind up Te Tira Ahu Pae?

Across the sea and through a vast land
we travelled to see the heart of another’s home.
Our hosts asked of us two things:
take no pictures, do not climb the rock.
They had been here since creation
to drink the water and to learn.

The Pakeha of this land had preceded me.
I watched us take pictures of every facet.
I learned how my people had climbed
and when we summitted, like true Victorian conquerors
we shit on the Red Rock itself
poisoning the water below.

Yet Uluru stands in solemn and proud defiance
with infinite and indominable mana.
Restoration was already underway, but
our behaviour had left its legacy.
And I felt shame, for had I not learned in time
I would have darkened the stain myself.

We sat still with the quiet sadness, and
incensed, we felt the hot-blooded anger
of a thousand thousand generations screaming for justice.
But then we felt the timeless weight of Uluru’s presence:
“I am not yours to heal, just as I was not yours to desecrate.
Put your back to me and never return.”

We fled back to Aoraki
where our colonial mistakes are less obvious
and restoration is further along.
Where our hosts have been partners for longer
and where although there are still stains
they are familiar to me.