From PhotoForum #69, December 2003

John Miller: Media Peace Award recipient 2003

Notes in response to an interview by Faye Norman, on the occasion of John Miller’s exhibition, ‘Awha ki Uta: A Tribute to the Whirlwind Generation’, at Te Taumata Art Gallery, Symonds Street, Auckland, 1-30 August 2003.

I was born on the North Shore of Auckland in pre-harbour bridge days, when the place had a Waiheke Island-like ambience of earlier years (gravel roads, little fibrelite baches tucked away around the place, tank water supply and the night cart). During my early life, when I was brought up by my mother, I lived, for eight years, in various places in Northland, where she taught in primary schools. Then, after a year of high school in Whakatane, where I boarded privately, I ended up in Wellington, where I was taken under the wing, so to speak, of Prof. (now Dame) Joan Metge. Joan ensured that I finished my secondary education and I owe a great deal to her. Tena ra koe, Joan, mo to aroha, to manaakitanga kia au. I subsequently did a couple of years of University study. During this period, my interests became more directed toward documentary photography at a time when the country was experiencing a degree of political and social upheaval.

The earliest images that can be attributed to me are views of Auckland city from the harbour bridge and some zoo animals snapped during a holiday visit with my father in May 1961 (he had written the information on the backs of the two photos). These were probably taken on a small Kodak 127 roll film camera. In the Bay of Islands, in 1965, I tried photographing (not very successfully) a total eclipse of the sun with a Kodak Brownie box camera. Later the same year, I took several rolls of film on two of the same cameras of a centennial reunion of my mother’s family in Northland (these latter have since been lost)

In those days, it was unusual for kids to actually take photos themselves as the available equipment wasn’t very user friendly for children. Around 1965, the Kodak Instamatic camera first appeared, which made it much easier for children to start taking their own photos. I thought about getting one of these myself, but considered them too rudimentary for serious photography (and they cost 25 pounds!). After a brief flirtation with a semi-adjustable 35 mm camera, I ended up buying a Russian Lubitel twin-lens reflex 120 camera which was fully adjustable (and cheaper). I used it to take photos of friends at school, local scenes around Whangarei, and later, holiday snaps in Auckland. I recall that one shot I took of the hydrofoil ‘Manuwai’ that used to make the Waiheke ferry run, was published some years later in National Business Review. In Whakatane in 1966, I photographed scenes of the town, an air show at the local airport and the earthworks at the Matahina Dam construction site. A recently published photo of an anti-Vietnam War demonstration in 1967 was taken before I moved to Wellington. (1)

Apart from taking a few photos of the Wellington College environs and a visiting governor-general (published in the school magazine), and the official opening of the Parewahawha meeting house at Bulls, I did little further photography until I got to university in 1969 and started photographing demonstrations. Pictures I took of visiting Rhodesian civil rights activist, Judith Todd and a raid by antiwar protesters on Dominion editor Jack Kelliher’s office were published in the Victoria University’s Students’ Association newspaper Salient. Later that year, I acquired a clunky but serviceable Russian Zenit-E SLR which I used until I moved into Nikon gear in 1972. (I’m still using the Nikon lenses). Most of my work has been shot on 35 mm although I have, in recent years, occasionally worked in 120mm and 4x5 inch formats. In a departure from my usual practice, I photographed the last anti-GE march of October 2003, using a Pentax 6x7cm SLR camera.

The activities of the anti-Vietnam War and anti-South African sports tour movements of the late ’60s and early ’70s provided the subject matter for most of my early documentary work. I didn’t start out with any grand design to compile the definitive archive on all this – it was just something that I liked doing, and the collection has evolved over time. Some of the photos had immediate use in student newspapers and publications of Alister Taylor and Chris Wheeler. Taylor used my work in his Whole Earth Catalogues, the Muldoon Annual Joke Book and books written by Tim Shadbolt, and Sue Kedgley and Sharon Cederman. Wheeler printed a couple of my shots in a specially published photographic coverage, The Whole World Watches, written by Taylor, of the June 1970 protests in Wellington against the All Black tour of South Africa. The over-exuberant behaviour of some of the policemen on this occasion foreshadowed the forceful police tactics we were to witness and document eleven years later.

In 1971, I moved into photographing the new wave of Maori protest, spearheaded by Nga Tamatoa, the collective of young Maori who had come together at the 1970 Young Maori Leadership Conference at Auckland University. Dissatisfied with the treatment of Maori in the justice system and the continued neglect of Te Reo Maori in schools (amongst other issues), Nga Tamatoa resolved to challenge this status quo at the 1971 Waitangi Day commemorations. This event was usually the occasion for platitudinous self-congratulation by the Pakeha establishment on the state of the country’s supposedly harmonious race relations.

I thus found myself travelling in an old bus up to the Bay of Islands with, amongst others, James K. Baxter, and photographed that first protest which featured Paul Kotara attempting to set fire to the New Zealand White Ensign with a copy of the Communist Party’s newspaper, The People’s Voice. My photo of the groups attempt to stage a walk-on protest on the upper marae was published, some years later, in Donna Awatere’s book Maori Sovereignty. Thwarted by the police, sailors and Maori wardens, only Hana Jackson made it to the middle where finance minister Muldoon was addressing the gathering. I have since photographed a number of the Waitangi Day commemorations over the years and some of these appeared in my show, ‘Awha ki Uta’ at Te Taumata Gallery, in August 2003.

A large part of this show comprised photographs taken of the arrival of the Maori Land March in Wellington on 13 October 1975. These photographs differ technically from most of my other work from this period as they were all shot on Ilford FP4 - I normally used either Tri-X or HP4. As I recall, I had run out of the faster film stock and was forced, with some initial misgivings, to use the slower alternative. However, I was pleasantly surprised at the improved definition of the resulting photographs.

As for the Land March itself, though, I recall that I was a little unsure about the merits of this as a means of pressuring the government. Back then, (when security was much more relaxed than it is now) I used to hang out in Matiu Rata’s ministerial office and share cups of tea and feeds brought down from Bellamys, with the minister and his staff. I remember that they were all a bit let down by the tactic and timing of the Land March and felt that the Kirk-Rowling government had done its best to set right Maori grievances during its brief time in office. Alluding to Whina Cooper’s National Party allegiances, there was some speculation in Rata’s office that some behind-the-scenes support may have been provided from that quarter. However, recalling the other personalities who were closely involved in the Land March, one would now give little credence to such speculation. Government sensitivities like these, though, were heightened by the impending approach of the Muldoon juggernaut that was to decisively sweep the Labour government out of power only a few weeks later. Although sharing a little of the concerns of the minister and his staff in this regard, I was still very sympathetic to the actual cause of Maori land retention that motiated the march itself and accordingly photographed what I felt at the time to be a very significant event in the history of this country.

Considering the various manifestations of civilian dissent in regard to particular government policies (whether New Zealand, South African or American) that I have photographed, I seem to have been performing the role of a sympathetic observer, insofar as I tend to support the causes that motivate such protests, rallies or meetings. My own family connections to the Ngapuhi Iwi of central Northland give an added dimension to how I approach my coverage of matters Maori, particularly any aspect of the ongoing pursuit of tangata whenua for Tino Rangatiratanga. However, I don’t think that one’s cultural background alone should determine a photographer’s ability to cover Maori subjects. Documentary photography transcends cultural boundaries and each individual has their own unique view of the world. I know, though, that being part-Maori has opened doors for me in some areas of this field. On the other hand, I do feel much more obligated to be sensitive of people’s wishes and conditions, to which, some non-Maori photographers might feel less constrained.(2)

It is inevitable that a photographic archive of this chronological span contains images of people that I come across in subsequent years. One of the land march photographs in the show depicts Dave Ruru wheeling his young daughter along the Motorway in her pushchair. I was most surprised to encounter Tania nearly two decades later as she handed out Maori Land Rights pamphlets at the Waitangi Marae during one of the Waitangi Treaty observances in the late 1990s. She was aware of the image (it had been published some years before) and always wondered who had taken it. It is incidents like these that demonstrate how such photos gradually assume the patina of history (and give one a sense of ageing). It is also indicative of how the face of Maori protest has changed over the years as old personalities (with a few conspicuous exceptions) withdraw into the background and a new cast takes its place behind the banners. It’s also possible to observe the diversifying nature of the projection of Maori political aspirations as, in more recent years, iwi based structures that evolved through the Waitangi treaty settlement process, are exercising their own clout on the domestic political process. Certainly, the black berets and army jackets of some of the 1975 land marchers, contrast markedly with the smartly suited Maori leaders I photographed at last July’s angry foreshore and seabed hui at Paeroa.

Yet, I can’t help feeling that all these photos of Maori protest portray an unbridgeable difference of perception between Maori, and the Pakeha power structure as to the exact status of the tangata whenua in this country’s constitutional arrangements. A naïve foreigner, viewing for the first time, such images of occupations, marches, banners and flags, might imagine them to be a documentation of the ongoing struggle of a distinct national entity for self determination. A struggle analogous to that of the Basques, the Palestinians, the Kurds, or, more closer to home, the Tahitians. It is most ironic that, unlike these other peoples who have been repressed with various degrees of harshness by their political masters (who correctly recognise exactly what these minorities are struggling for), New Zealand Maori (at least since 1916)(3) have had their own struggles framed and defined as comparatively innocuous distractions by our own state powers. As Helen Clark proclaimed, in a radio news item during the recent foreshore and seabed debate, "Maoridom is not a nation!" – as if Governor Hobson travelled around Aotearoa signing a treaty with a host of mere interest groups! Any perceived threat to the unitary state is effectively denied. Consequently the batons of riot squads and the firing of tear gas canisters – or worse – do not feature in any of my Maori protest photos – to the probable relief of us all. However, the extent of disjuncture between the two parties here makes it inevitable that protest activity, in some form or other (and the photographing of it), will continue for the foreseeable future.

In looking through my archive, I am struck by how much things have changed yet also appear to have stayed the same. The physical landscape, where much of the activity that I photographed took place, has changed markedly as the urban face of Auckland and Wellington has been reshaped by the building boom of the 1980s. (Witness the demise of all those grandly ornate early 20th Century facades in Queen St and Lambton Quay). Many of the faces who appear decades ago as idealistic youth have gone on to become the "establishment"of today that a new set of social activists (along with the principled survivors of past years) rail against in the streets (and – with the advent of MMP – in Parliament!). It has been a most curious feeling to yet again, be photographing another cycle of anti-war demonstrations. But it is a feeling mixed with relief that the present generation of 20-30-year-olds, for whom Vietnam is beyond personal recall, is prepared to get out there and repeat what the earlier protest generation was moved to do over three decades ago. All in all, civil dissent against the military (and, more recently, the economic) policies of the United States is the enduring constant of much of what I have photographed over the years. If anything has changed, it is the realisation that many of the seemingly disparate issues protested against are actually interlocked. For instance, that the US is using its US$390 billion per annum military machine to back up its economic global reach through the World Trade Organisation and various bilateral and multilateral trade and investment treaties; to sequester the world’s oil supply; to seize control of, and genetically manipulate, global food production; and to ignore the harsh reality that the planet’s survival really does depend on the U.S. drastically curbing its hugely disproportionate consumption of the world’s resources.

In this respect, a photographic archive which extends over more than three decades has a use in reminding those of us who were there, and informing those who weren’t, of what actually transpired in previous years and how past events might relate to the present day. Along with many other photographers, I contributed images to the ‘Tour Show’ and the book By Batons and Barbed Wire which documented the tumultuous events of the 1981 Springbok Rugby Tour. These images have been shown widely, both here and overseas, and endure as a stark reminder of a very unpleasant period of New Zealand’s history about which younger generations need to be informed.

Another public ‘exhibition’ of my images took place in October-November 2003, with the use of six photographs on a giant 3x6m billboard in central Wellington. Erected by Greenpeace New Zealand, the sign features a montage of shots of anti-Vietnam War, anti-nuclear, and anti-GE demonstrations with photographs of prime ministers Norman Kirk, David Lange and Helen Clark. These are placed below a large text reading ‘Good Leaders listen to the People’. Below the photographs are caption boxes which contrast the policies of the first two prime ministers (in following popular opinion in their time) with that of the third (who has ignored it). The earliest photo in the sequence was taken in 1970, and the most recent in October 2003. That Greenpeace had been able to source all six images from my archive for this rather unusual purpose was another confirmation of the value of such a collection of work.(4)

I intend to continue to photograph aspects of our society that I consider important, seeing it as an extension of the body of work that I have accumulated until now. I’ll continue using the film-based platform, together with scanning technology which now makes it possible to compile and catalogue archives in a way that is much more ordered and accessible than was previously possible. Such technology can also assist with the provision of photo caption information which I consider important for the viewer. For example, a recent 36 year-long sequence of antiwar photographs in the New Zealand Journal of Photography was extensively captioned using information from the Internet as well as the New Zealand Herald microfilm files in the Auckland Central Library.

The place of the independent documentary photographer remains important in New Zealand. Apart from specific Creative New Zealand grants, the state provides no officially structured umbrella of support for such activities. Coverage of aspects of New Zealand society that are not driven by commercial imperatives, are totally reliant on ad hoc initiatives by individuals.5 The advent of digital photography has underscored the value of the role of independent photographers as daily newspapers – the other main sources of historical archives – no longer retain a fully comprehensive record of what their photographers produce.

Previously, a newspaper’s film-based archive would have contained all images produced in the field, including those which may not have been of major significance to the picture editor at the time but which, with the passing of years, become important for the historical record. Now, such photographs will not exist at all – they will either be deleted from the camera’s storage card by the photographer on location, or discarded in an editing process back at the newspaper office once images of immediate significance have been chosen for publication and then electronically stored.

Concurrent with these concerns is the question of how the personal archives of independent documentary photographers are to be conserved for posterity. This is also at present, a very ad hoc process, with certain photographers having made their own arrangements to lodge their work with various institutions. Save for the singular efforts of former Te Papa photography collection manager, Eymard Bradley, there doesn’t seem to be any properly structured programme by the art institutions to assist photographers to properly catalogue and store their work, and plan for their long-term preservation and use. For the sake of preserving the important images and memories of our society, this is an issue that deserves serious attention.

1. New Zealand Journal of Photography, No. 51, Winter 2003, p.12.

2. In 1985, an official of Te Tii Marae, denied me a camera permit to photograph official Waitangi Treaty observances there for two days because of a historical family grudge. Although I felt this was extremely unfair and discriminatory, I scrupulously abided by her decision (against the urgings of others present) as she was exercising powers vested in her by the local committee which I felt obligated to respect. (She finally relented after much lobbying by friends and colleagues but I lament the loss of images that I know I would have otherwise taken)

3. Being the last occasion that a police constabulary unit suppressed with force, a manifestation of armed Maori separatism (Rua Kenana and his Ringatu followers at Maungapohatu, Urewera country). James Belich, The New Zealand Wars, p.309.

4. See: http://www.greenpeace.org.nz/news/news_main.asp?PRID=606 http://www.greenpeace.org.nz/image/prime_ministers_Billboard_l.jpg

5. A good example here is the 1981 Springbok Rugby Tour, when the private photographic gallery, Real Pictures circulated an advance appeal around the photographic community, countrywide, encouraging its documentation and requesting that photographers who did cover it, to forward some of their images to the gallery for inclusion in a wall-to-wall display of photographs that would continue for the Tour’s duration. These images, which were seen by thousands of gallery visitors, provided a valuable resource bank that was drawn on for the earlier mentioned ‘Tour Show’ and book.