Signposts – a blog about Te Ara the Encyclopedia of New Zealand

Changing the New Zealand flag – it’s one of those issues that regularly rises and falls in prominence without actually resulting in change. I’m writing an entry on flags for Te Ara so I’ve been looking into this issue. I recently perused two Internal Affairs correspondence files dating from the early 1970s to the late 1980s, and they were populated with new flag designs submitted – without solicitation – by members of the public.

Most of these were doomed to remain within the files, never having received the attention their designers perhaps thought they deserved, other than a polite, yet non-committal, letter from the minister. Until now that is. I have taken it upon myself to share some worthy examples with the world.

First up we have Mrs G. Bell’s design, dating from the early 1970s.

Mrs G. Bell's flag design

She writes: ‘I am forwarding this design as it may interest you. I thought the yellow would mean the land of sunshine the green the fields and the blue in “New Zealand” the blue sky. If you feel the animals would be best deleted, do so. Also the sun.’

In 1979 Mrs Caroline Smith submitted an annotated sketch.

Mrs Caroline Smith's flag design

She apologised for her rough sketch, writing: ‘I am a busy housewife with two children and my husband’s parents are arriving from England next week for their “trip of a lifetime”; consequently I haven’t much time to sit down and do a “proper” plan carefully. I am, therefore, just letting you know of my rough initial idea and I will quite understand if it is rejected immediately.’

There are a few submissions from school children in the files. In 1979 the students of room two at Rolleston School designed flags after the minister of internal affairs publicly suggested it was time for a new one – in the words of student Selena Taurua, the class ‘decided to give you a hand with finding some suggestions.’ Here’s one of them:

A flag designed by a student at Rolleston School

Most of the students’ designs incorporated Māori elements, such as the poi in the top right corner of this example. I noticed that consideration of Māori motifs cropped up more from this period.

Some submissions came from far afield. Mr J. A. Hocksenar of The Netherlands sent in a new design after he visited New Zealand in the late 1970s. I was impressed by his fine felt-penmanship.

J. A. Hocksenar's flag design

I said the submissions were made by members of the public, but I did come across one from someone with official responsibilities – the New Zealand ambassador to Germany, B. F. Bolt. He really went to town and made his design up in acetate and red tape.

Flag designed by ambassador B. F. Bolt

It seems he did this in a personal capacity in 1980 after hearing about the minister’s call for a new flag mentioned above. In his words, his flag ‘represents Ao-tea-roa – a white band between the dark blue sea and light blue sky.’

These days the Ministry for Culture and Heritage looks after official flags and we occasionally receive new designs in the mail, like this one:

Flag made by a member of the public

I don’t know who the maker was, but they obviously went to a bit of trouble sewing it. The flag is cared for by our librarian Fran McGowan.

By the way, this blog post should not be read as an invitation for more flag designs. There are no official plans to change the flag – not that this has ever stopped people from sending their designs in.

Alan MacDiarmid in the lab

In a recent poll of the individuals most trusted by New Zealanders three scientists came out on top. The most trusted was Sir Ray Avery, scientist, inventor and 2010 New Zealander of the year. The second was the prime minister’s chief science adviser, Peter Gluckman. The third was Sir Paul Callaghan, physicist and this year’s New Zealander of the year. Sir Paul is also the author of the new biography we launch today on one of this country’s greatest scientists: Alan MacDiarmid.

The acceptance of scientists as the most trustworthy profession of all is an interesting development. In the 1960s and 1970s – when people lived under the fear of nuclear annihilation, planes were dropping napalm on the people of Indochina and there was growing awareness of the environmental costs of industrial development – scientists came in for considerable criticism. They were seen as amoral allies of the military–industrial complex, who took no responsibility for the dangerous inventions which they devised.

All this has changed. Many scientists have been at the forefront of raising consciousness about the dangers of developments such as global warming, and they have thrown their energies into finding smart scientific solutions for the problems which economic growth has caused.

Scientists have also come out of the laboratory, divested themselves of their white coats and begun communicating much more widely to the community. There has been no better example of this than the effective way geologists and geophysicists have explained to New Zealanders, and the people of Canterbury in particular, what has been happening to the rocks beneath their feet. People have also come to appreciate that the scientists’ professional commitment to tell the unvarnished truth is a refreshing quality in a world of spin and public relations.

Both Alan MacDiarmid and Sir Paul Callaghan were, and in Sir Paul’s case still are, outstanding scientific researchers in their fields. Alan MacDiarmid gained his Nobel Prize for his central role in the development of conducting plastics. His work helped bring about flat-screen televisions, solar cells and the flexible electronic circuitry now used in countless devices.

Paul Callaghan’s work examines how molecules move about in complex fluids. His group uses nuclear magnetic resonance to explore these issues; and out of his work has come an institute at Victoria University of Wellington for the study of advanced materials and nanotechnology, which is aptly named the MacDiarmid Institute. The university has also just erected a new science building, the Alan MacDiarmid Building, which proudly displays the Nobel Prize.

As well as being outstanding scientists, both were/are excellent communicators. As Sir Paul writes in the biography, when Alan MacDiarmid came to New Zealand in 2001 his story-telling abilities drew huge audiences to his lectures. ‘More than any scientist since Ernest Rutherford, MacDiarmid raised the profile of science in his home country, showing New Zealand scientists the importance of communicating to society at large.’ Similarly, Sir Paul’s conversations with Kim Hill on Radio New Zealand about science have become legendary, and his book Wool to Weta: transforming New Zealand’s culture and economy is an inspiring vision of an economic future which draws on scientific innovation.

Sir Paul has done an excellent job with his biography of his mentor MacDiarmid. He tells a really interesting story of a man who grew up in the depression of the 1930s, made his own way through delivering milk and newspapers on his bike, and taught himself chemistry by working through The boy chemist – a book he had found in the Lower Hutt library. A Fulbright scholarship took MacDiarmid to the United States, where his huge intellectual ability was able to flower – and the rest is history.

So take a look at Alan MacDiarmid’s biography. You’ll enjoy the story; and of course you will be able to trust it!

In a long and active career, William Colenso (1811–99) was a printer, missionary, explorer, politician and botanist. Always argumentative and outspoken, Colenso was often in the news. A notice close to his grave summarises him as a ‘rebel churchman and radical thinker’ as well as ‘Napier’s leading eccentric’.

William Colenso's headstone, Napier

Unfortunately, the colourful aspects of Colenso’s career have tended to overshadow his substantial achievements. I want to draw attention to his scientific career. He made important contributions to natural science and ethnology in New Zealand, but these have been overlooked or downplayed by most who have written about him. They get only passing mention in his entry in the Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, which fails to mention that he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of London (FRS) in 1886 – superior to a knighthood in the eyes of most scientists. To achieve this distinction he was nominated by the three other local Fellows, Julius Haast, James Hector and Walter Buller, and supported by Joseph Hooker, director of Kew Gardens and a former president of the Royal Society. Colenso’s achievement is all the more remarkable because he spent the later part of his life in Napier, a small provincial town lacking a scientific library, equipment, or other professional scientists to discuss ideas with. He regularly presented the results of his researches to the Hawke’s Bay Philosophical Institute.

William Colenso arrived in the Bay of Islands in 1834 to work as a printer for the Anglican Church Missionary Society. Joseph Hooker visited the area in 1841, and spent time there exploring and collecting plants with Colenso. This was the beginning of a friendship and correspondence that lasted for almost 60 years until Colenso’s death in 1899. Hooker helped Colenso obtain a microscope in 1885 – a greatly treasured instrument which enabled him to examine plants in fine detail. The recent publication of Colenso’s collections, which includes transcriptions of Colenso’s letters, provides new insights into the extent of Colenso’s botanical work.

Through the 1840s and 1850s Colenso collected plants for Hooker as he travelled around the North Island, and forwarded them to England to be described. He gradually developed confidence, and started to publish his own descriptions of plants and animals in the Transactions of the New Zealand Institute. Colenso published 76 papers, mainly on plants and animals, but also recording observations of Māori tribes he had visited. Now that the Transactions are available online, Colenso’s considerable scientific contribution is readily available. All his scientific work was unpaid and done in his spare time.

A drawing of a huia with a curiously deformed beak, from one of Colenso's papers

Colenso’s knowledge was acknowledged in New Zealand’s small 19th-century scientific community. James Hector wanted to prepare a series of essays on scientific topics for the 1865 Dunedin exhibition, and he was advised to approach Colenso. Colenso’s first contribution was an essay on the botany of the North Island. Subsequently Hector asked him to write an ethnological essay on Māori culture. Colenso jumped at the chance to distil his experience of living and working with Māori for the preceding 30 years, and produced ‘On the Māori races of New Zealand‘. To our eyes the language is rather patronising, but it was the most authoritative account of Māori life and customs to that time.

The Colenso Society publishes a monthly electronic newsletter, which contains much new information about William Colenso and his times. To celebrate the bicentenary of Colenso’s birth, a week of celebrations is planned on 9–13 November 2011 in Napier, including a two-day academic conference. I hope that this will include recognition of his scientific achievements.

Tarawera erupting in 1886

125 years ago, on 10 June 1886, Mt Tarawera erupted without warning. Craters vented fountains of glowing scoria, and a 17-kilometre rift spewed steam, ash and mud over the surrounding area. Nearby settlements were destroyed or buried by hot mud, and about 120 people perished.

A major tourist attraction, the Pink and White Terraces, was one of the casualties of the eruption. The area around the terraces had become a deep crater, which filled with water within a few months to form the modern Lake Rotomahana.

There has long been speculation about whether any part of the terraces survived, but it had been impossible to check deep in the lake. Early this year a joint US–New Zealand team explored the bed of Lake Rotomahana using a small, unmanned submarine. In February they announced that they had found part of the Pink Terraces, but it was then believed that the White Terraces had been destroyed.

However, on the 125th anniversary of the Tarawera eruption, GNS scientist Cornel de Ronde was delighted to announce that detailed analysis of the underwater sonar records had detected hard, crescent-shaped structures on the lake bed at the site of the White Terraces at a depth of about 60 metres. Unfortunately there are no underwater photographs, but there is little doubt that this discovery will lead to renewed exploration of the floor of Lake Rotomahana.

You can see an illustrated account of the investigations on Julian’s Blog, and on YouTube you can watch an excellent video clip: White Terraces rediscovered.

The discovery has special significance for the Tūhourangi people, a sub-tribe of Te Arawa) whose ancestors used to guide visitors around the Pink and White Terraces. Many members of the tribe were killed during the Tarawera eruption, and those who survived settled at Whakarewarewa. The devastated land was later taken over by the Crown, and is now the subject of a claim before the Waitangi Tribunal.