Journal articles on the topic 'Treaty of Waitanga (1840)'

In 1840, some of the sovereign nations of Māori signed te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Māori language version of the Treaty of Waitangi) with the British Crown. Hone Heke was the first Māori leader of the northern nation of Ngāpuhi to sign, but by 1844 he was leading a significant revolt against British colonialism in Aotearoa New Zealand by chopping down British flagpoles erected on his lands. While Māori may have initially welcomed the intent of te Tiriti as a means for seeking British help to protect their international borders, the British prioritised the English version of the Treaty which recorded the transfer of sovereignty from Māori to the British. As the British transposed their dominant legal traditions of governance, including bringing to the fore their doctrine of parliamentary supremacy, Māori have been seeking their survival ever since. We extend this by focusing on why the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty needs to adapt to the Treaty’s promise of bicultural power sharing.

This article examines how socio-legal performance in the public realm might operate to question, expose and exploit social and legal norms that can exist in the everyday. With the tactical deployment of humor – and a particular focus on how the Treaty of Waitangi (1840) may continue to operate as a cultural/political force in Aotearoa/New Zealand today – this article explores the contribution that socio-legal artistic performance might make to reveal the tensions, inherent in the 1840 agreement between British colonizers and Māori, as continuing to affect the very foundations of law in Aotearoa/New Zealand and its everyday contemporary articulations.

This article analyses the Treaty of Waitangi in light of Carl Schmitt's concept of constituent power – the idea that in a democracy the people hold the power to make fundamental political decisions to determine their form of political existence. It finds that in 1840, Māori, as the holders of constituent power, made a fundamental political decision to share authority between themselves and the Crown. This fundamental political decision is a key element of the New Zealand constitution; limiting potential constitutional changes that would override the substance of the decision, and requiring changes to the current legal framework in order to comply with the decision to share authority. This article focuses solely on the conservative implications of characterising the Treaty as a fundamental political decision. It concludes that only a further exercise of constituent power by Māori can legitimately override or significantly change the fundamental political decision in the Treaty.

In this article the author discusses various written agreements that the New Zealand government has entered into with Māori since the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840. It is argued that the legal history of New Zealand is more "multi-textual", and more like Canada, the United States, and Argentina than is often thought. It is argued also that the process of agreement-making has been a continuously evolving one and at the present day is more important than ever. The article distinguishes between various types of Crown-Māori agreements and explores which of them are more Treaty-like than others.

The Privy Council was New Zealand's final court from 1840 until 2004. Its influence was largely benign, correcting errors of principle and, both in the early days and very recently, affording protection to Māori. But despite important exceptions, its failure to fully acknowledge New Zealand's independent identity, seen most importantly in its refusal during five of its final six decades to acknowledge the true legal effect of the Treaty of Waitangi, delayed the evolution of a distinctive New Zealand jurisprudence.

AbstractIn Canada, Treaty 1 First Nations brought a claim against the Crown for land debt owed to them since 1871. In 2004, Crown land in Winnipeg became available that, according to the terms of the settlement, should have been offered for purchase to Treaty 1 Nations. Similarly, in New Zealand, the Waikato-Tainui claim arose from historical Crown breaches of the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi. In 1995, a settlement was reached to address the unjust Crown confiscation of Tainui lands. Despite being intended to facilitate the return of traditional territory, compensate for Crown breaches of historic treaties, and indirectly provide opportunity for economic development, in both cases, settlement was met with legal and political challenges. Using a comparative legal analysis, this paper examines how the state continues to use its law-making power to undermine socio-economic development of Indigenous communities in Canada and New Zealand, thereby thwarting opportunity for Indigenous self-determination.

Abstract This paper discusses the historical background and significance of the two most important national holidays in New Zealand: Waitangi Day and Anzac Day. Waitangi Day is celebrated on the 6th February and it commemorates the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi between British representatives and a number of Māori chiefs in 1840. Following the signing of the treaty New Zealand became effectively a British colony. Anzac Day is celebrated on 25th April, i.e., on the anniversary of the landing of soldiers of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) on the Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey in 1915, during World War One. There are three major differences between these two holidays: the process of those days becoming national holidays, the level of contestation, and the changing messages they have carried. The present study analyzes the national discourse around Anzac Day and Waitangi Day in New Zealand, and attempts to reveal how the official New Zealand government rhetoric about national unity becomes deconstructed. The following analysis is based on a selection of online articles from the New Zealand Herald and Stuff published in Auckland and Wellington, respectively. Both cities are populated by multi-ethnic groups, with Auckland featuring the largest Māori population.

New Zealand has been inhabited by the indigenous Maori people for more than 1000 years. The first European (Pakeha) to see the country, in 1642, was the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman. But the English explorer James Cook, who landed there in 1769, was responsible for New Zealand becoming part of the British Empire and, later, the British Commonwealth. In 1840 the Treaty of Waitangi was signed between Maori leaders and Lieutenant-Governor Hobson on behalf of the British Government. The three articles of the Treaty gave powers of Sovereignty to the Queen of England; guaranteed to the Maori Chiefs and tribes full, exclusive and undisturbed possession of their lands, estates, forests and fisheries; and extended to the Maori people Royal protection and all the rights and privileges of British subjects.

INTRODUCTION: Globally, indigenous social work educators have pursued decolonisation and the development of decolonising practices as part of the indigenous peoples’ rights movement and based on social work principles of self-determination and social justice. Māori have advanced decolonisation based on the original partnership that was envisaged in the Treaty of Waitangi signed between Māori and the British Crown in 1840. Aotearoa New Zealand social work education has a stated commitment to a Treaty-based partnership approach.METHODS: This research engaged focus groups along with interviews of social work educators from nine of the 19 programmes across Aotearoa New Zealand to explore if, and how, this commitment to a Treaty-based approach was being demonstrated in the real world of practice. A diverse group of participants included Māori, Pākehā, Pasifika, and people identifying with other ethnic groups.FINDINGS: Māori and non-Māori participants gave a range of perspectives relating to practising within a Treaty-based context. The Treaty should be understood historically but also in its contemporary expressions noting the extra demands placed on Māori. Non-Māori had an important role in demonstrating Treaty partnership and confronting White privilege. The Māori cultural approach of Kaupapa Ma ̄ori was a foundation for a Treaty approach, and presented a challenge for non-Māori to learn this. A major challenge for programmes was having sufficient Māori staff.Conclusions: Based on the findings, a Treaty-based teaching and learning framework has been developed to support educators as they advance decolonising practices and the indigenisation of social work education in Aotearoa New Zealand.

Te Tiriti o Waitangi, signed between Māori rangatira (chiefs) and the British Crown in 1840 guaranteed to Māori the ‘full, exclusive and undisturbed possession of their lands’. In the decades that followed, Māori were systematically dispossessed of all but a fraction of their land through a variety of mechanisms, including raupatu (confiscation), the individualisation of title, excessive Crown purchasing and the compulsory acquisition of land for public works. Māori, who have deep cultural and whakapapa (genealogical) connections to the land, were left culturally, materially and spiritually impoverished. Land loss has long been a central grievance for many Māori and the return of land has been a guiding motivation for whānau (extended family), hapū (sub-tribe) and iwi (tribe) seeking redress from the Crown. Since the 1990s, many groups have entered into negotiations to settle their historical grievances with the Crown and while land loss and the deep yearning for its return are central to many Māori claims, precious little land is typically returned to Māori through the settlement process. This paper seeks to critically examine the Treaty settlement process in light of land restitution policies enacted elsewhere and argues that one of the many flaws in the process is the paucity of land returned to Māori.

This article draws upon a Māori metaphor to describe the theoretical framework underpinning the methodology and findings of a research project completed by researchers from the University of Canterbury, New Zealand, in 2010. It explains how and why the project required the research team to synthesise key information from four New Zealand Ministry of Education Best Evidence Synthesis (BES) reports as well as kaupapa Māori research associated with the Ministry's Ka Hikitia Māori Education Strategy. The key messages outlined in this article were designed by the research team to serve as a new tool to assist whānau (family) and iwi (tribe) to actively engage in the New Zealand schooling system and assert their rights in accordance with the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi (1840). Given the large number of Māori children attending Australian schools, the findings of this research may be of interest to Australian educationalists.

PurposeSocial enterprise in New Zealand is still in its infancy, with no recognised framework to inform knowledge of current or future developments. In this exploratory paper, the aim is to consider four influences which are shaping the development of social enterprise in New Zealand.Design/methodology/approachA critical‐appreciative lens utilising Habermas' concepts of the lifeworld and system informs the consideration of these influences.FindingsFour distinct cultural and historical influences are proposed as contributing to the scope and “flavour” of social enterprise developing in New Zealand: socio‐cultural norms, e.g. “Kiwi ingenuity”; the neoliberal reforms initiated by successive governments during the 1980s; Crown settlements in relation to breaches of the principles of 1840 Treaty of Waitangi; New Zealanders' as international citizens.Originality/valueThe paper shows how feedback and dialogue across the sectors, at local, national and international levels, is now required to determine how other scholars, practitioners and policy makers perceive this proposed initial framework.

Purpose This paper aims to highlight the reasons for the establishment of savings banks in New Zealand, with a primary thesis being that savings banks in New Zealand were intended to operate in a similar way to those in the UK. That is, to provide banking services to the working classes and supply revenue to a cash-strapped government. Savings banks were reasonably successful in meeting the needs of their depositors but provided little revenue to the government. This gives rise to a secondary thesis that, when the Government was presented with the opportunity to establish the Post Office Savings Bank (POSB), they did so with revenue in mind. Design/methodology/approach Contemporaneous scholarly discussion along with newspaper, primary sourced bank and government archives builds an interpretation of why savings banks were established in New Zealand. This interpretation is presented in the form of a narrative, which tells the story of the rise of private savings banks in New Zealand and their eventual stagnation when the POSB was introduced. Findings Savings banks in New Zealand were initiated by Governor Grey primarily to provide an alternative source of development funding. New Zealand savings banks, initially modelled on UK and New South Wales variants, also appear to have been designed to meet the needs of the working classes, with deposits limited to £50 a year and a maximum balance set of £100 in total. However, as the requirement to invest in Government debt was removed from their founding legislation, they mainly provided mortgages to their local communities. To some extent, this situation was remedied in 1867 when the POSB was established, as it was required to invest as directed by the Government. Originality/value The narrative highlights the importance of savings banks and the POSB to both the people and government of New Zealand. This research adds to the discussion surrounding the purpose of savings banks and details the contributions made by both savings banks and the POSB in colonial New Zealand. As previous publications were in the main commissioned by various savings banks, this work provides an independent academic analysis of the first savings banks in colonial New Zealand in the period from the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 until New Zealand became a dominion in 1907.

The Treaty of Waitangi conferred upon Her Majesty's new subjects "all the rights andprivileges of British subjects" and that included, in theory, the right to be represented in the infantgovernment. In practice, however, the right of Maori to vote in elections was not taken seriouslyuntil 1858 and the presence of formally elected members in the House of Representatives was not achieved until August 1868. When they did speak in 1868 the first four Maori members spoke inMaori, and no adequate provision was made for the translation of their words, or for the words ofother members to be translated for them. The proceedings of the House were not printed in Maoriand the Maori members' speeches were not translated except when it suited the government of theday.Over the next few decades after 1868 there was only an irregular compliance with the standingorders of the House of Representatives and the Legislative Council that Bills and Acts be prepared inboth Maori and English for the better information of "Her Majesty's subjects of the Native Race".This study traces the extent of the use of the Maori language in the House and in the Council andpoints to a large number of extant Bills and Acts in Maori as well as to the large number whichhave not survived but which are referred to in the New Zealand parliamentary debates. These little-known texts deserve recognition as expressions of legislation in an indigenous tongue reflectingindigenous concerns but they have usually been disregarded in a European-dominated GeneralAssembly.

Learning does not occur in a vacuum and this reality challenges all educators to provide for the differing learning needs that exist because of students’ particular relationship to the course material. Teaching Te Tiriti o Waitangi and the colonial history of Aotearoa New Zealand to adult students of social work and counselling in mainstream tertiary education programmes provides particular challenges and opportunities for tutors and students alike. When teaching this topic, it is essential that the nature of the relationships that exist today between the peoples that represent the signatories of the Tiriti / Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 is explored. Yet, at the same time, the learning needs of all students must be met.The authors have extensive experience in the teaching of Te Tiriti o Waitangi to adult learners. They have found the practice of caucusing helpful in creating a process that affords an opportunity for a transfer of learning to take place. How this process operates is the subject of this research study. In it, the authors identify distinct differences between Maaori and non-Maaori students’ experiences of caucusing. Worthwhile explanations of these differences are provided and linked to literature findings. Excerpts from research relating to the hidden dynamics of white power and domination are provided and assist in increasing an understanding of the intense reactions expressed by students during the transfer of knowledge process. Comments from students are included to highlight the shifts in understanding as the caucusing experience proceeds. The authors suggest that this topic has quite different implications for students within the same classroom, dependent upon whether they are located within the group that has experienced colonisation and domination (Maaori) or the other group, i.e. the colonising group (non-Maaori). They highlight the need to go beyond an intellectual fact-gathering exercise to achieve significant and worthwhile educational outcomes in this topic area.

In Busby v White, James Busby sought to challenge the validity of the Land Claims Ordinance 1841 which treated his pre-Treaty of Waitangi land purchases as "null and void". He had campaigned against the New South Wales statute which preceded the Ordinance, and throughout the 1840s continued to argue against the legislation through political channels, while maintaining his claim to hold the lands under his "native title". By the 1850s holding by "native title" was increasingly precarious as the Government moved to acquire Busby's lands for the purposes of settlement. Busby was forced to law. His aim was to set up the validity of the legislation as a question of law which could be taken to the Privy Council for authoritative resolution. Busby v White was the second attempt to establish a platform for appeal. As in his earlier claim, Busby v McKenzie, the Supreme Court avoided a determination on the merits, thus thwarting Busby's strategy of appealing to London. Although no substantive decision was delivered, the extensive argument was fully reported in The Southern Cross newspaper, from which the Lost Cases Project has recovered it. Its interest today is in arguments which question the course set by R v Symonds (1847) on the nature of native property in New Zealand and the subsequent relegation of the Treaty of Waitangi to legal limbo in Wi Parata v Bishop of Wellington (1877).

The purpose of this article is to analyse and describe fundamental individual rights in relation to the Constitution of Sweden and New Zealand. Basic human rights include the right to dignity, right to liberty and the right to equality. Everyone is equally entitled regardless of origin, race, gender or education. Based on the analysis of several acts concerning the constitutional legislation of both countries it is evident that there is a lack of uniformity the nature of these have been complex and difficult to convey. Concerning Sweden, the Constitution consists of four acts in which the act of government includes standards governing and representing protection of the rights a liberty of a citizen. Constitutional legislation of New Zealand is more complicated because it consists of the Treaty of Waitangi 1840, The New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990, numerous laws, statutes setting up by the New Zealand Parliament as well as numerous constitutional customs, which may constitute legal standards and translate into precedent acts of courts. Despite the daily violation of rights in both Sweden and New Zealand, the complex legal systems protect and secure the rights of the people in their countries by introducing a series of laws and other regulations. The government of both countries, as well as public authority and other non-governmental organisations do their best to ensure they are respected and not violated. It should be noted that both Sweden and New Zealand have proven to comply with the obligations imposed on them under their national and international obligations with some undoubtable success, with generally well accepted principles in the whole civilised world.

The Sino-US trade war has become more and more fierce. From March 2018 to the present, China and the United States have begun to constantly increase tariffs and restrict each other. Negotiations are still going on and it seems that no real progress has been made. Soybean procurement, sanctions against Huawei, chip battles, intellectual property wars, and technology transfer have been escalated, and both sides of the trade have been affected to varying degrees. At the end of 2019, if all the tariffs in the Trump plan were implemented, it meant that almost all goods from China (worth about $550 billion) would be subject to punitive tariffs. First Opium War‘ Britain often called it the first Sino-British war or "commercial war". It was a war of aggression launched by Britain from China from 1840 to 1842, and it was also the beginning of modern Chinese history. In 1840, the British government used Lin Zexu's Humen cigarettes as an excuse to decide to send the expeditionary forces to invade China. In June 1840, the British warships arrived in the Pearl River Estuary in Guangdong, blocking the seaport, and the Opium War began. The Chinese and British sides signed the "Nanjing Treaty", the first unequal treaty in Chinese history. China began to rip land, indemnify, and negotiate tariffs to foreign countries. The Nanjing Treaty seriously endangered China's sovereignty. China began to become a semi-colonial, semi-feudal society, losing its independent status and promoting the disintegration of the natural economy.

The entry into the Zulu territory of Natal in 1837 of the Trekker leader Piet Retief; his meeting with the Zulu Chief Dingane; the resultant agreement (Retief recovers some stolen cattle in return for a concession to a part of Natal); the subsequent meeting of the two leaders; the untoward actions of Dingane (the killing in February 1838 of the unsuspecting Retief and his sixty-seven followers, and the mortifying and widespread attacks on all the Trekker encampments in Natal); the gathering of a new contingent of Trekkers; the defeat of Ding-ane's forces ten months later at ‘Blood River’; and, finally, the discovery in December 1838 (near the identifiable remains of Retief) of the agreement, the title deed to Natal--these events, tragic and dramatic, constitute a brief but special chapter of settler and, notably, of Afrikaner history.The treaty's miraculous recovery, the eyewitness reports of its finding, the long line of historians crediting its authenticity, and the title deed's very genuineness all came under unexpected--and unwelcomed, suspicion, scrutiny and debate in the 1920s, however. To appreciate that debate it is necessary to begin at the beginning.The French naturalist, traveler, and writer Louis A. Dele-gorgue, who was with the Trekkers during some of the time between 1838 and 1840, was probably one of the first to provide a connected published account--after the discovery of the treaty in December 1838--of the Retief-Dingane encounter. Thereafter Hendrik Cloete, who was sent by the Cape Government as a special commissioner to negotiate with the Volksraad of Natal in May 1843, set out a relatively full account of Retiefs misadventures in Natal.

Abstract "Reciprocity is a relation between two independent powers, such that the citizens of each are guaranteed certain commercial privileges at the hands of the others". The arrangement obtained under the Reciprocity Treaty of 1854 might perhaps be appropriately described as a partial "free-trade area" rather than as a "customs union" since the United States and the British North American Provinces were not assumed to draw up a common tariff schedule for their imports from the outside countries. Each participant maintains its own duties against other countries or even colonies. The Reciprocity Treaty permitted free access in the coastal fisheries to Americans and abolished duties on a wide range of natural products (grain, flour, fish, livestock, coal, timber and other less important natural produce). At the same time, American vessels were admitted to the use of Canadian canals on the same terms as British and colonial vessels. Reciprocity was to apply to Canadian vessels going to United States. In the late 1840's the B.N.A. Provinces were faced by that policy which the literature has called "Little Englandism". When Britain repealed the corn laws and gradually the preferential tariffs on timber the B.N.A. Provinces were shocked to be left on their own. A new commercial system had to be developed: reciprocity was the answer. But, it could have been something else: protection or annexion. The direction of the external trade changes with the Reciprocity Treaty. Before 1851, Britain was Canada's main partner (59% of Canada's Exports). But a decade later, the United States was both Canada's major supplier and its best customer. Neither the Treaty nor the loss of preference in the British Market succeeded in destroying the Trade of B.N.A. Provinces with the United Kingdom. In fact, trade with Britain was greater in 1865 than in 1854. Later, in 1870, Britain took back its leading position. What we see is a diversion of trade from Britain to the United States and back to Britain where the basic commercial connections were well established. The Treaty was disappointing for the "dream" of using the St. Lawrence as the main route to capture the trade of the West did not materialize. The consequence of abrogation was less unfortunate than had in some quarters been anticipated. The Treaty came late after the abolition of the preferential tariffs, and it was disturbed by major events (the crisis of 1857; the American Civil War). After the treaty, recovery of the American currency reconstruction, proximity of the two countries, a new boom in foreign investment in Canada, etc., combined to reduce considerably the potential blow to Canada of the Abrogation. The agreement lasted for twelve years and was finally overwhelmed by the rising tide of protectionism and commercial jealousies and political hostilities of the time. Reciprocity, Confederation, the Nation Policy, the St. Lawrence Seaway (1840/1950), the National Corporations, the pipelines are all the elements of the same continuum: economic and political integration of isolated markets in North America.

This article examines the individuals who came to London in order to lobby the imperial authorities in favour of the expansion of French-Canadian rights from the 1763 Treaty of Paris to the 1840 Act of Union and who were delegated by a significant body or institution within French Canada. Early efforts were centred on the expansion of religious rights and the perpetuation of Quebec’s legal and social institutions, including French civil law and the seigneurial system. Religious affairs remained an important facet of French-Canadian lobbying throughout the British regime, though the issue of political reform, which came to the fore in the 1780s, soon came to dominate lobbying efforts. These efforts were predicated on ideas of loyalty, as delegates sought to negotiate a place within the British Empire for French Canada. They lobbied London to allow French Canadians to fully participate in civic life within the framework of British political institutions while also allowing Quebec to retain its particular religious and social institutions. Delegates experienced some success, especially when they enjoyed the support of the colonial authorities at Quebec, but often failed to achieve their goals because they ran counter to British policy or because their English-speaking opponents had greater access to Whitehall.

The article presents the results of the studies on the contacts of representatives of the Polish Independence camp led by Adam Czartoryski and Imam Shamil and his naibs. Based on the material, stored in the Library of Princes Czartoryski in Krakow, it can be assumed that the most active contacts occurred in the 1840’s. At the same time in Istanbul, as an agent of A. Czartoryski, Mikhail Czajkowski, the author of all letters sent by representatives of the Polish emigration to Shamil and his naibs, were staying. The correspondence is confirmed by the documents of the Library. Another important source is the memoirs of M. Czajkowski, supplementing the information of correspondence. From them it can be said that, most likely, the first letter was sent by the agent of Adam Czartoryski to imam in 1844, and the obligation to deliver it was taken by Ludwik Zverkovski. The next envoy with letters from M. Czajkowsky to Shamil was Kazimiezh Gordon. He was sent to the Caucasus in 1846, but most likely the documents did not reach Shamil, as the Pole was killed. There was also a letter from M. Czajkowski addressed to Suleiman-Effendi, who was a naib in Circassia in 1845-1846. The author of the article was unable to find the letters sent by Shamil or his entourage to the Polish leaders of independence during that period. Information about this correspondence is reported in the memoirs of M. Czajkowski. There is also no evidence of direct mutual contacts between the parties in the period of the late 1840’s and the end of the 1850’s. A treaty concluded between Teofil Lapinsky and Muhammad-Amin dates back only to 1859 and is kept in the Library of Princes Czartoryski in Krakow. The only letter that we managed to find, the author of which is a person connected with the movement of Imam Shamil, also dates from the same year

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Modern nautical charts, the result of scientific coastal research and survey, had been made from late 18th century, and at the end of 19th century almost of the world had been charted. Different to the neighbouring countries such as China and Japan, Korean peninsula had not been accurately charted until the end of 19th century. Moreover, during the 19th century, the shape of Korean peninsula had been changed several times in the Western nautical charts. However, in the academic circle of the history of cartography, this case was scantly examined. In this presentation, this author, firstly, analyse the changes in the shape of the Korean Peninsula on the British Charts in the 19th Century and, secondly, identifies factors that influence the changes. For this research, British nautical charts, which are the representative and finest charts during the 19th century in the world, are selected. Examined charts are ‘Map of the Islands of Japan Kurile &amp; C.’ (Year of 1811, 1818) of Aaron Arrowsmith (1750&amp;ndash;1823), the hydrographer to his majesty, ‘The Peninsula of Korea (No.1258)’ (year of 1840, 1849) and ‘(Preliminary Chart of) Japan, Nipon Kiusiu and Sikok and a part of the coast of Korea (No. 2347)’ (Year of 1855, 1862, 1873, 1876, 1892, 1898, 1902, 1914) of the British hydrographic office. According to the analysis, major shape changes of the Korean Peninsula were occurred in 1818, 1840, 1849, 1855, 1862, 1873, 1876, 1892, and the shape of the Peninsula became perfect in the chart of the year 1914.</p><p>Meanwhile, the factors of the shape changes of the Korean peninsula in these nautical charts were various voyages, expeditions, and military surveys to Korea. For example, the change in the map of 1818 was initiated by the voyage of the captain Basil Hall in 1816 to the west coast of Korea, and the change in the map of 1840 was made by the map of Korea of A.J. von Krusenstern (1770&amp;ndash;1846) and the voyage of H.H.Lindsay (1802&amp;ndash;1881) to the west coast of Korea in 1832. Moreover, the modification of 1849 was made by the outcome of E. Belcher’s scientific survey around Jeju Island and other southern islands of Korea. In 1852, French admiral G. de Roquemaurel (1804&amp;ndash;1878) surveyed eastern coast of Korea and drew nautical chart and this chart became the source of the British chart of the year 1855. A Russian admiral, Yevfimy Putyatin (1803&amp;ndash;1883), also surveyed east side of the peninsula and triggered the change of nautical chart of eastern part of Korea. During French campaign against Korea in 1866 and United States expedition to Korea in 1871, French and American navy surveyed west-middle part of the peninsula and added detailed coastline of it and British chart also reflected these changes. The Japan-Korea treaty of 1876 enabled coastal survey of the Korean peninsula by the Japanese navy by the article 7, which permitted any Japanese mariner to conduct surveys and mapping operations at will in the seas off the Korean Peninsula's coastline. By virtue of the treaty, Japan could directly surveyed coastline of Korea and could make updated nautical charts of Korea. These Japanese charts were circulated to the Western countries and British hydrographers made the best use of them. Thanks to this situation, the British admiralty could update the chart of Korean peninsula and the perfect one published in 1914.</p><p>This analysis contribute not only to understand how and why the shape of Korean peninsula changed in British nautical charts during the 19th century, but also to add the historical case of the map trade and geographical knowledge circulation in East Asia.</p>

The article examines the relationship between the two leading powers of the 19th century, Great Britain and France, against the background of colonial rivalry in North Africa. Analyzing relevant English, French, and Moroccan diplomatic documents, the author concludes that the issue of establishing a dominant influence in Morocco was one of the main issues in the relations between Great Britain and France in 1830–1840. The French takeover of Algeria disrupted the regional and European balance of influence and gave a conflicting character to the relations between the competing powers. The “Entente Cordiale” (“Cordial Accord”), designed to contribute to the preservation of peace in Europe, acted as a deterrent that did not allow Great Britain and France to move to an open phase of confrontation in the Maghreb. The sharp phase of the rivalry between the two powers in Morocco occurred in 1837–1844 and was associated with the name of the hero of the liberation struggle of Algeria from the French invaders, Emir Abd al-Qadir. The Franco-Moroccan War of 1844 ended with the defeat of Morocco, facing the threat of French occupation. Due to the pressure from British diplomacy, the Franco-Moroccan treaty was concluded, and the sultanate existed as an independent country for about sixty years, although in fact the European powers did not stop systematically undermining the country&apos;s sovereignty.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> In East Asia, the modern hydrographical survey was promoted during the Opium War (1840&amp;ndash;1842) and the Arrow War (1856&amp;ndash;1860) by Western countries, which demanded the establishment of modern trade relations with this area. However, the application of modern mapping such as triangulation to its inlands was limited even at the end of the nineteenth century, because it required stable and innovative governments for implementation. Keeping this uneven extension of modern cartography in East Asia in mind, we should pay attentions also to various map makings, which had been carried out in most of the inlands, in order to unravel the process of transition from early modern to modern cartography. In this presentation, I would like to follow up Japanese mappings in Taiwan and Korea to scrutinize their role for the preparation of modern survey.</p><p>Japan had little geographical information of neighbouring countries except China at the start of the Meiji Government, because of the long national seclusion during the Tokugawa Era, Accordingly, it depended heavily on foreign source in this period. Concerning Korea, Japanese army printed a large map titled “A complete map of Korea” (Fig. 1), compiling Western charts, native maps of Korea, and maps of China, which were affiliated with the Qing Imperial Atlas of the 18th century. As for Taiwan, various materials including Western charts, maps prepared by an American former consul at Amoy and a Chinese administrative map copied secretly at the residence of a high official of Taiwan were gathered and translated into Japanese for the use of military expedition in 1874.</p><p>However, a stark contrast is found concerning subsequent map making in these two areas. After the treaty of Kanghwa (1876), Japanese navy promoted hydrographical survey of coasts of Korea, which had not been surveyed yet by Western ships under the pretext of the search of new treaty port. In addition, army officers were dispatched to Japanese diplomatic offices in Korea for land survey after the Imo Military Rebellion (1882). Traversing with compass and pacing was commonly conducted by them. Up to the start of the Sino-Japanese War (1894), Japanese army prepared 64 sheets of 1&amp;thinsp;:&amp;thinsp;200,000 maps to cover most of the territory of Korea compiling geographical information accumulated mainly during 1880s. In contrast, only one sheet of 1&amp;thinsp;:&amp;thinsp;200,000 and one sheet of 1&amp;thinsp;:&amp;thinsp;500,000 maps were printed till the end of 1894 for Taiwan, which had been unexpected to be battlefield (Fig.2).</p><p>However, Japanese army concentrated surveyors to Taiwan for plane table surveying after the conclusion of the peace treaty of Shimonoseki (1895), in which the cession of Taiwan was specified. Until 1903, 147 sheets of 1&amp;thinsp;:&amp;thinsp;50,000 and 1&amp;thinsp;:&amp;thinsp;20,000 maps, which covered coastal areas, were completed. Although the same kind of military survey was started in Korea, it took longer time to cover the whole area than that in Taiwan, mainly because of the native people’s resistance movements against it.</p><p>Subsequent cadastral and topographical surveys including triangulation in colonial Taiwan and Korea were carried out on the basis of these preceding mappings. In addition to geographical knowledge summarized in these transitional maps, surveyors who had mastered specialized skills during the wartime mapping played important roles in these colonial projects. It should be also noted native youth were trained and hired for these surveys.</p>

Throughout the course of the nineteenth century North America and Australasia were profoundly affected by the large-scale emigration of Irish men and women. However, by the eve of the First World War that great torrent of nineteenth-century emigration had slowed. The returns of the registrar general, though deeply and systematically flawed, suggest that in the period 1901–10 the level of decennial emigration from Ireland fell below half a million for only the second time since 1840. According to these figures, the United States continued to be the preferred destination for the new century’s Irish emigrants — 86 per cent of those who left between 1901 and 1910 journeyed to America. In contrast, Australia now attracted few Irish-born, with only 2 per cent of emigrants in this decade choosing to settle in Australasia. As the number of Irish emigrants declined from the peaks of the mid-nineteenth century, so the proportion of Irish-born in the populations of the United States and Australia also fell. By 1910 less than 1.5 per cent of the United States population were of Irish birth; in Australia in 1911 only 3 per cent of the nation’s population were Irish-born men or women. But, although the influence of the Irish-born was diminished, there remained in both societies large numbers of native-born men and women of Irish descent, New World citizens who retained strong bonds of affection for Ireland and maintained a keen level of interest in its affairs.Concern with Irish affairs reached new levels of intensity in the United States and Australia between 1914 and 1921. In particular, from the Easter Rising of 1916 until the signing of the Anglo-Irish treaty of 1921 Irish immigrants and their descendants in both New World societies observed Ireland’s moves towards self-rule with keen anticipation. They publicly asserted the need for an immediate and just resolution to Ireland’s grievances and sought to obtain the support of their own governments for the attainment of that goal. However, this vocal support for Ireland was not without its own cost.

At the end of 19th century, the financial powers of a famous Lithuanian family, the counts Tyszkiewicz, encouraged a major re-construction and development of their manors, and allowed creating (with the assistance of well-known European architects) unique landscape views in the towns of Lentvaris, Palanga, Traku Voke, and Uzutrakis. All of these architecture ensembles have the common heritage of great landscaped parks by a famous French landscape architect Edouard André (1840–1911) and his son René André (1867–1942). This article discusses all four parks, which are considered to be significant resources of recreation and culture tourism and important cultural and natural heritage. These residences of family Tysz- kiewicz were to be in places of natural beauty and landscape exceptional. Publications regarding parks in Lithuania created by E. and R. André are numerous. However, the authors of this overview examined these ensembles with the view of cultural and artistic development, and will discuss here the aspects and trends of the complex uses of these manors and parks. It is particularly interesting to consult the book of E. André General Treaty of the Composition of Parks and Gardens, published by Masson in 1879, in which E. André covered all aspects of the business, still receives attention from landscapers today as much as it outlines the new directions of the profession. Major works by landscaper intended to create natural and picturesque (pittoresque) effects, to used ripraps, flows of water, waterfalls, balustrades and areas of greenery as viewing points, to contrast the methods used. It is particularly interesting to consult the letters and logbooks of René André, and article about the Palanga Park at Revue horticole on 1906, which contain many allusions and remarks to different Lithuanian park’s construction works in 1898–1899. In 1898 young Belgian landscape architect Jules Buyssens (1872–1958) was called upon to direct the construction works in Palanga and other places. The reliable Boisard, responsible for the ripraps, rockworks in the different parks, accompanied him. Not all of the concepts of the creators have been successfully realized in these manors; some visions blurred in the events of the 20th century. But currently, the existing elements of these ensembles, the actualized projects, and research, collectively permit reconstruction of these ensembles, adapting them for today’s leisure and recreational purposes. Résumé Dans cet article nous présentons nos recherches faites sur les parcs en Lituanie, conçus par Edouard André (1840–1911) et son fils René André (1867–1942). En Lituanie nous en comptons quatre, tous dans les anciens domaines de la famille noble et riche de Tyszkewicz à Lentvaris, Palanga, Traku Voké et Uzutrakis. Ces parcs représentent le patrimoine de l’art des jardins de la fin de 19ème siècle à la composition mixte. Tous les quatre parcs sont bien adaptés aux conditions géographiques, climatiques, orthographiques des lieux. Un traité «L’art des jardins…» écrit par Édouard André et publié en 1879 chez éditeur parisien Masson, réédité par Laf- fitte à Marseille en 1986, servait du socle pour étudier et com- prendre des sources et les motivations du créateur des parcs. Le maître E. André a écrit : «il faut chercher l’effetpittoresque avant tout». Ce grand architecte paysagiste et botaniste avait bien conçu ses projets en empruntant des fonds du paysage, en proposant les vues sur la mer Baltique à Palanga, sur les lacs à Lentvaris et Uzutrakis, en créant et multipliant des scènes aquatiques et de rochers dans le milieu des parcs, en utilisant les plantations indigènes et apportées. Les parterres de broder- ies ou fleuristes autours des palais et chateaux sont encore visibles dans tous les parcs. Les spécialistes des parcs peuvent consulter une autre source sur la création du parc à Palanga – un article de René André dans la «Revue horticole» en 1906. Cet article, illustré d’une vue à vol d’oiseau en chromolithographie ainsi que les plans aquarellés des parcs de Lentvaris et de Palanga nous apportent encore des précisions. Les lettres, la correspondance retrouvée ainsi que des carnets de route de René André présentés par nos collègues français nous permettent de comprendre le circuit des voyages professionnels, de dater avec précision bon nombre de chantiers chez les comtes Tyszkiewicz en 1898–1899. Selon des avis de famille André et des lettres d’époque les parcs en Lituanie sont exécutés par les spécialistes de l’équipe d André : les rochers par Boisard et les plantations – par jeune paysagiste belge Jules Buyssens (1872–1958), le dernier, un collaborateur d’André a travaillé en Lituanie beaucoup plus. En donnant l’analyse de la création d’E.André, de la rétrospective du développement nous présentons la vision ainsi que les suggestions sur les parcs des anciens domaines à Lentvaris, Palanga, Trakų Vokė et Užutrakis. Le développement de la ville de Vilnius ainsi que la ville de Palanga impose pour les parcs son habitude, son mouvement des visiteurs. Dans ce bijou des jardins, comme dans tous les anciens parcs et jardins, nous trouverons le patrimoine scientifique, artistique, éducatif ainsi qu’écologique et récréatif. La qualité de la vision de grand professionnel fait que certains lieux destinés au moment de leur création à une clientele privée, exigeante et fortunée, ont pu être réappropriés depuis lors par le grand public et se sont adaptés à leur nouvelle fonction avec souplesse. Le parc botanique de Palanga en est un vivant témoin en Lituanie. Il faut suivre dans les autres parcs. La situation naturelle et géographique dans les trois parcs à côté de Vilnius est extrêmement privilégiée et les rend susceptibles de devenir des vecteurs de tourisme de qualité. Santrauka Lietuvoje turime keturis tarptautinės reikšmės kraštovaizdžio architektūros paveldo objektus žymaus prancūzų kraštovaizdžio architekto Eduardo Andrė (1840–1911) su sūnumi Renė Andrė (1867–1942) XIX a. pab. kurtus parkus grafų Tiškevičių dvaruose Lentvaryje, Palangoje, Trakų Vokėje ir Užutrakyje. Visi jie, nežiūrint skirtingo likimo ir skirtingos priežiūros, išsaugojo žymaus parkų kūrėjo raiškos dvasią, kompozicijos principus, meninius akcentus ir netgi detales. Tai nuostabus kultūros paveldas ir ekonominis (kultūrinio turizmo, rekreacijos) bei edukacinis išteklius. Šio paveldo pažinimas nuolat auga, plečiasi, atskleidžia naujų klodų ir įžvalgų. 2011 m., minėdami garsaus parkų kūrėjo Eduardo Andrė (1840–1911) šimtąsias mirties metines, turime puikią progą ir pareigą apibendrinti naujausius tyrinėjimus, pirmiausia remdamiesi archyvinės (ikonografinės, autentiškų tekstų, užrašų) medžiagos ir natūros tyrimais bei publikacijomis. Turime galimybę panagrinėti XIX a. pabaigos laiškus ir užrašus, eskizus ir parkų planus, sudarytus parkų kūrėjų ranka. Naujausiais tyrimais ir ankstesnių inventorizacijų medžiagos analize paremta studija turėtų būti svarbi parkotyros ir parkotvarkos metodologijai ir padėti formuluoti rekomendacijas šio kraštovaizdžio architektūros paveldo apsaugos ir gaivinimo projektams.

This paper will discuss the recognition of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in legal cases based on the historical development of the Diagnostic Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders (DSM). Further the discussion will draw on the diagnostic relationship between the DSM and the International Classification of Diseases (ICD). It is important to understand how the courts received evidence in relation to a person&rsquo;s traumatic experience and to define the limits of liability for psychiatric illness cases. In tort law, the courts had been cautious to permit recovery to underserving litigants. Interpreting traumatic experiences from psychiatry to law, at times, do not succeed in a claim for compensation. &nbsp;Belanger-Hardy opined &lsquo;Tort Law has always viewed mental harm with caution, not to say scepticism&rsquo;. &nbsp;Historically, compensation for PTSD claims have always been awarded on ad hoc basis in tort law for fear of opening the floodgates. &nbsp;In Saadati v Moorhead , Brown J acknowledged the requirement of a psychiatrist to diagnose a psychiatric disorder by referring to DSM and ICD classifications. &nbsp;The diagnostic manual is a guide book and should be used with caution. &nbsp;The DSM Manual also explains the concept of malingering and practitioners should be cautious when preparing an expert report to assist the court. It is argued the courts are trying to play catch up with psychiatry, however, in its deliberations pronouncing inappropriate policy decisions, hampering recovery for a deserving claimant in tort law. &nbsp;Ultimately, Judges control the goal posts for awarding damages in trauma related cases.&nbsp; Historically, PTSD was defined as railway spine, shell shock, traumatic neurosis, accident neurosis and fright neurosis. Medical science established there is a relationship between the mind and body and the mind can only function in the body. Therefore, if the mind is affected by an external factor, the psyche may become muddled to develop post traumatic symptoms. This paper will examine the method adopted by practitioners and judges in interpreting the manual. This is seen from a methodological assessment of diagnostic concordance in the light of inherent problems of psychiatric classifications and malingering. This assessment will ultimately relate to psychiatric classification of individual patients who are subjected to an intense trauma resulting in fear and helplessness. Hence, unable to relate to what had taken place and subsequently not able to realize that the psyche is muddled or disorganized. In the absence of an actual physical lesion, the courts have become sceptical and wary of extending the defendant&rsquo;s liability to cover alleged damage such as psychiatric illness. The inherent fears are that evidence can be confabulated and based on false premise. Hence, the courts make a linguistic interpretation in view of the struggle between the law and psychiatric illness. Furthermore, the discussion will capture the essence of PTSD which was introduced in the 1970&rsquo;s and adopted in DSM-III in 1980 by the American Psychiatric Association (APA). In 1992, PTSD was recognised as a diagnosis in the International Classifications of Diseases (ICD-10) in Europe under the rubric of Neurotic, Stress-related and Somatoform Disorders by the World Health Organization (WHO). &nbsp;The DSM is a guidebook for mental health practitioners. &nbsp;However the origins of PTSD lie further back than the twentieth century. The history can be traced through the experience of the American Civil War, First World War, Second World War and the Vietnam War where veterans who returned home suffered trauma because of devastating exposure to war. Their traumatic experiences were documented and translated as symptoms which were eventually associated with PTSD, as described in DSM-III. These traumatic experiences were observed in the civil and forensic setting.&nbsp; Moreover, this paper will contain a summary of the historical development of the ICD and DSM classifications depicting war associated syndromes as they played a dominant role in shaping the early diagnostic thinking of WHO and APA. From 1840 to 1921, in the United States, data was collected by gathering statistical information across mental hospitals in order to produce a nationally acceptable psychiatric nomenclature. &nbsp;In particular, a notable physician called Da Costa in the American Civil War gave the name &lsquo;irritable heart&rsquo; to the symptoms suffered by some soldiers. Consequently, the statistical information was broadened to take account of and incorporate outpatient presentations from World Wars I and II veterans. This was known as &lsquo;shell shock&rsquo; and &lsquo;war neurosis&rsquo;. War neurosis was further refined following World War II and the Vietnam War in terms of &lsquo;trauma&rsquo;. Contemporaneously in 1948, WHO adopted the Armed Forces categorisation based on Army, Navy and Veteran experiences in World War I and II, when it integrated mental disorders into the sixth revision of the ICD depicting an European model. Mental disorders were not introduced into the ICD until its sixth edition, published by WHO in 1948, &nbsp;and therefore it is not pertinent to discuss ICD classifications from 1 to 5 editions for the purposes of mental illness.&nbsp; Besides, this paper will explore the development of trauma as defined in the current understanding of PTSD. This development is necessary to show how the term &lsquo;trauma&rsquo; was transformed into PTSD. Evidence is also drawn from the courts as to how PTSD is used in a legal setting. As was the case for DSM-I where a category called &lsquo;gross stress reaction&rsquo; &nbsp;was recognized in 1952 and a diagnosis called &lsquo;transient situational disturbance&rsquo; or &lsquo;anxiety neurosis&rsquo; &nbsp;was declared in DSM-II in 1968. The development of DSM-III was coordinated with the ninth revision of ICD. &nbsp;In 1980, DSM-III introduced PTSD for the first time. DSM-III made major changes in which the diagnosis of PTSD was formally introduced. DSM-III did not prescribe duration of the symptoms.&nbsp; Similarly, ICD-9 did not include diagnostic criteria to specify mental categories and facilitate the collection of basic health statistics. In view of the incompatibility between ICD-9 and DSM-III, APA suggested that modifications to be made to ICD-9 for its use in the United States. The result was ICD-9-CM.&nbsp; In 1987, DSM-III-R was introduced to refine the duration of symptoms. In 1992, WHO introduced the diagnosis of PTSD in ICD-10 and consequently the APA formed a task force to develop the DSM-IV in 1994. At the time, WHO was ready to publish ICD-10. The U.S. was under a treaty to maintain systems consistent with WHO and there was a desire to build a better empirical foundation, using 13 groups of researchers in field trials. Research in natural environment diagnoses in the United States and Canada used DSM-IV, whilst most countries officially use ICD-10 and now ICD-11adopted in 2019. In DSM-IV-TR of 2002, there was still doubt by psychiatrists as to whether PTSD is an anxiety disorder or a disorder in its own category. Refinement of DSM-IV-TR was undertaken in the current DSM-5 following research. In addition, issues related to malingering and methodology for the detection of malingering are explored. Such methodology will confirm evidence as to whether an individual malingers or not. In conclusion, this paper will look at the latest developments in the DSM Manual and by discussing how such a manual should be utilised effectively by the courts and psychiatrists.

The period bookended by initial Maori-Pakeha contact at one end, and the Treaty of Waitangi and the beginning of mass Pakeha migration at the other, is an under-represented stage of New Zealand history. In his study The Meeting Place, Vincent O'Malley purports to examine 1642-1840. Likewise, in a prequel to his previous studies of New Zealand in the 1830s and the 1840s, Paul Moon's A Savage Country is confined to the 1820s. It is pleasing to see this important time of change, for both Maori and Pakeha, as the focus of further historical investigation.

An account of an inner city ‘mainstream’ primary school, in Auckland, Aotearoa New Zealand, that is organized around a co-governance relationship based on the Treaty of Waitangi (1840). In this school, two forms of authority (Māori and Crown), and ways of constituting social and educational space are recognized and practiced. Because these governance arrangements position Māori autonomously and relationally, Māori are actively and creatively determining their own educational priorities and practices with significant success. This account can be read as a productive example of the possibilities for ethical and political practice, in a range of sites across our Indigenous worlds.

If history is to be decolonized, then the archives it is made from must be too. This article uses the work of the Waitangi Tribunal in Aotearoa New Zealand to explore how this might be possible. The tribunal is a permanent commission of inquiry that investigates contemporary and historical breaches of the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi. Tribunal hearings are rich sites of public history-making. A hearing involves the research and production of ‘traditional’ and ‘historical’ tribal narratives as well as the performance of dozens of individual testimonies from Maori. By collecting and archiving the family and tribal histories that Maori claimants have chosen to speak, write or sing before it, the tribunal has made the private public. In the process, the colonial archive has been expanded, democratised and decolonised. This article argues that while the work of the tribunal is necessarily constrained by its brief to investigate post-contact grievances, the voluminous and precious archive generated by inquiries and by the settlement process that sometimes follows, provide the seeds for other more satisfying and challenging stories about New Zealand’s past and present. It reads the archives generated by the Taranaki inquiry to demonstrate how a significant feature of claimant testimony is the challenge it poses to conceptions of time that are central to academic history-making. The subaltern histories shared at tribunal hearings collapse the distinctions between past and present, placing ‘historical actors’ and ‘historical events’ on the same stage as present ones. Tribunal archives, then, are a new and overlooked collection of documentary evidence that refuses to locate colonisation in the past. The tribunal archives challenge historians to rethink ‘history’ and ‘the colonial archive’. If colonisation is something that is not over yet then the colonial archive is still being created (by bodies like the tribunal). It is a collection of documents that can be viewed as both historical and contemporary.

The execution of a minor chief in 1842 in Auckland Prison for the crime of murder would normally be of little significance in the evolution of a nation’s statehood, unless it triggered some form or rebellion or even revolution. The history of colonial rule in the British Empire in the nineteenth century contains many examples of murderers receiving capital punishment for their crime. However, the constitutional significance of the Governor’s determination to execute the criminal was of substantial, principally because it signified the Crown’s willingness – at this relatively early stage in Crown Colony Government in New Zealand – to extend its jurisdiction so that British law would apply to Maori communities. Too often, it has been taken for granted that the Treaty of Waitangi asserted (initially in principle and gradually in practice) British sovereignty over Maori as well as Europeans in the country. However, what the Maketu example illustrates is that the limits of British sovereignty in New Zealand prior to 1842 were confined exclusively to the non-Maori population, as had been the expectation of the Colonial Office in the two years leading up to the conclusion of the Treaty.

AbstractPublic history in New Zealand since the 1990s has been often dominated by the need to acknowledge New Zealand’s colonial past. Included in the British Empire by treaty in 1840 between the British Crown and its indigenous tribes, New Zealand’s European population has often idealized the country’s race relations. In recent decades, Māori assertiveness has led to a greater recognition of the damage done to Māori communities as New Zealand increasingly became a settler society. Inquiries into New Zealand’s colonial history since the 1980s have led to new settlements between Crown and iwi (tribal authorities). Demands that New Zealand’s colonial history be part of the school curriculum have also increased over this time. New Zealand’s decentralized social science and social studies curricula have been largely non-prescriptive, meaning that most children get little grounding in New Zealand’s history. In September 2019, the government announced that New Zealand history would become compulsory by the beginning of the 2022 school year. Defining this curriculum poses significant challenges to the country in a short period of time, challenges compounded by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic.

During the late 1700s, the Kadohadacho (hereafter Caddo), a peaceful tribe of agriculturists and hunters, weakened by near-constant pressure from the more war-like Osage and the ravages of various epidemics, began to migrate from their traditional homeland near the Great Bend of the Red River south into northwestern Louisiana and adjacent East Texas. By the time of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, the Caddo villages under their caddi Dehahuit were concentrated in the Sodo Lakes region west and northwest of modern-day Shreveport. Much of what we know today about the location of these settlements, and specifically Dehahuit’s village, are found in the writings of Indian agents and the field notes and plat maps of period surveyors. In this article we will examine these and other relevant documents and present a case for the location of the village of this historic figure. It is the contention of the author, based on material to be presented in the pages to follow, that Dehahuit’s village will ultimately be found to lie northwest of Waskom, Texas on the southern terraces of Paw Paw Bayou beneath the neatly manicured lawns of the Victoria Wood subdivision. The site is depicted on the 1838 American surveys of northwestern Louisiana as lying on the Natchitoches-to-Pecan Point Road on the section line between Sections 2 and 3 of T17N, R17W. In support of this argument, we will examine in this article (1) a relatively definitive 1840 statement regarding the location of Dehahuit’s village by Jehiel Brooks, long-time Caddo Agent and the individual who engineered the sale of the Caddo lands to the United States; (2) the well-known 1805 statement of Red River Agent John Sibley in which he noted that the Caddo lived some 35 miles west of the Red River on a bayou “called, by them, Sodo;” and (3) a memorial statement by the Caddo themselves regarding the re-location of some of their villages as required by Article 4 of the 1835 treaty cession.

Special Care Notice This paper discusses trauma and violence inflicted upon the Indigenous peoples of Tasmania through the process of colonisation. Content within this paper may be distressing to some readers. Introduction The decimation of the First Peoples of Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania) was systematic and swift. First Contact was an emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually confronting series of encounters for the Indigenous inhabitants. There were, according to some early records, a few examples of peaceful interactions (Morris 84). Yet, the inevitable competition over resources, and the intensity with which colonists pursued their “claims” for food, land, and water, quickly transformed amicable relationships into hostile rivalries. Jennifer Gall has written that, as “European settlement expanded in the late 1820s, violent exchanges between settlers and Aboriginal people were frequent, brutal and unchecked” (58). Indeed, the near-annihilation of the original custodians of the land was, if viewed through the lens of time, a process that could be described as one that was especially efficient. As John Morris notes: in 1803, when the first settlers arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, the Aborigines had already inhabited the island for some 25,000 years and the population has been estimated at 4,000. Seventy-three years later, Truganinni, [often cited as] the last Tasmanian of full Aboriginal descent, was dead. (84) Against a backdrop of extreme violence, often referred to as the Black War (Clements 1), there were some, admittedly dubious, efforts to contain the bloodshed. One such effort, in the late 1820s, was the production, and subsequent distribution, of a set of Proclamation Boards. Approximately 100 Proclamation Boards (the Board) were introduced by the Lieutenant Governor of the day, George Arthur (after whom Port Arthur on the Tasman Peninsula is named). The purpose of these Boards was to communicate, via a four-strip pictogram, to the Indigenous peoples of the island colony that all people—black and white—were considered equal under the law. “British Justice would protect” everyone (Morris 84). This is reflected in the narrative of the Boards. The first image presents Indigenous peoples and colonists living peacefully together. The second, and central, image shows “a conciliatory handshake between the British governor and an Aboriginal ‘chief’, highly reminiscent of images found in North America on treaty medals and anti-slavery tokens” (Darian-Smith and Edmonds 4). The third and fourth images depict the repercussions for committing murder, with an Indigenous man hanged for spearing a colonist and a European man also hanged for shooting an Aborigine. Both men executed under “gubernatorial supervision” (Turnbull 53). Image 1: Governor Davey's [sic - actually Governor Arthur's] Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816 [sic - actually c. 1828-30]. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (Call Number: SAFE / R 247). The Board is an interesting re-imagining of one of the traditional methods of communication for Indigenous peoples; the leaving of images on the bark of trees. Such trees, often referred to as scarred trees, are rare in modern-day Tasmania as “the expansion of settlements, and the impact of bush fires and other environmental factors” resulted in many of these trees being destroyed (Aboriginal Heritage Tasmania online). Similarly, only a few of the Boards, inspired by these trees, survive today. The Proclamation Board was, in the 1860s, re-imagined as the output of a different Governor: Lieutenant Governor Davey (after whom Port Davey, on the south-west coast of Tasmania is named). This re-imagining of the Board’s creator was so effective that the Board, today, is popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines. This paper outlines several other re-imaginings of this Board. In addition, this paper offers another, new, re-imagining of the Board, positing that this is an early “pamphlet” on crime, justice and punishment which actually presents as a pre-cursor to the modern Australian true crime tale. In doing so this work connects the Proclamation Board to the larger genre of crime fiction. One Proclamation Board: Two Governors Labelled Van Diemen’s Land and settled as a colony of New South Wales in 1803, this island state would secede from the administration of mainland Australia in 1825. Another change would follow in 1856 when Van Diemen’s Land was, in another process of re-imagining, officially re-named Tasmania. This change in nomenclature was an initiative to, symbolically at least, separate the contemporary state from a criminal and violent past (Newman online). Tasmania’s violent history was, perhaps, inevitable. The island was claimed by Philip Gidley King, the Governor of New South Wales, in the name of His Majesty, not for the purpose of building a community, but to “prevent the French from gaining a footing on the east side of that island” and also to procure “timber and other natural products, as well as to raise grain and to promote the seal industry” (Clark 36). Another rationale for this land claim was to “divide the convicts” (Clark 36) which re-fashioned the island into a gaol. It was this penal element of the British colonisation of Australia that saw the worst of the British Empire forced upon the Aboriginal peoples. As historian Clive Turnbull explains: the brutish state of England was reproduced in the English colonies, and that in many ways its brutishness was increased, for now there came to Australia not the humanitarians or the indifferent, but the men who had vested interests in the systems of restraint; among those who suffered restraint were not only a vast number who were merely unfortunate and poverty-stricken—the victims of a ‘depression’—but brutalised persons, child-slaughterers and even potential cannibals. (Turnbull 25) As noted above the Black War of Tasmania saw unprecedented aggression against the rightful occupants of the land. Yet, the Aboriginal peoples were “promised the white man’s justice, the people [were] exhorted to live in amity with them, the wrongs which they suffer [were] deplored” (Turnbull 23). The administrators purported an egalitarian society, one of integration and peace but Van Diemen’s Land was colonised as a prison and as a place of profit. So, “like many apologists whose material benefit is bound up with the systems which they defend” (Turnbull 23), assertions of care for the health and welfare of the Aboriginal peoples were made but were not supported by sufficient policies, or sufficient will, and the Black War continued. Colonel Thomas Davey (1758-1823) was the second person to serve as Lieutenant Governor of Van Diemen’s Land; a term of office that began in 1813 and concluded in 1817. The fourth Lieutenant Governor of the island was Colonel Sir George Arthur (1784-1854); his term of office, significantly longer than Davey’s, being from 1824 to 1836. The two men were very different but are connected through this intriguing artefact, the Proclamation Board. One of the efforts made to assert the principle of equality under the law in Van Diemen’s Land was an outcome of work undertaken by Surveyor General George Frankland (1800-1838). Frankland wrote to Arthur in early 1829 and suggested the Proclamation Board (Morris 84), sometimes referred to as a Picture Board or the Tasmanian Hieroglyphics, as a tool to support Arthur’s various Proclamations. The Proclamation, signed on 15 April 1828 and promulgated in the The Hobart Town Courier on 19 April 1828 (Arthur 1), was one of several notices attempting to reduce the increasing levels of violence between Indigenous peoples and colonists. The date on Frankland’s correspondence clearly situates the Proclamation Board within Arthur’s tenure as Lieutenant Governor. The Board was, however, in the 1860s, re-imagined as the output of Davey. The Clerk of the Tasmanian House of Assembly, Hugh M. Hull, asserted that the Board was the work of Davey and not Arthur. Hull’s rationale for this, despite archival evidence connecting the Board to Frankland and, by extension, to Arthur, is predominantly anecdotal. In a letter to the editor of The Hobart Mercury, published 26 November 1874, Hull wrote: this curiosity was shown by me to the late Mrs Bateman, neé Pitt, a lady who arrived here in 1804, and with whom I went to school in 1822. She at once recognised it as one of a number prepared in 1816, under Governor Davey’s orders; and said she had seen one hanging on a gum tree at Cottage Green—now Battery Point. (3) Hull went on to assert that “if any old gentleman will look at the picture and remember the style of military and civil dress of 1810-15, he will find that Mrs Bateman was right” (3). Interestingly, Hull relies upon the recollections of a deceased school friend and the dress codes depicted by the artist to date the Proclamation Board as a product of 1816, in lieu of documentary evidence dating the Board as a product of 1828-1830. Curiously, the citation of dress can serve to undermine Hull’s argument. An early 1840s watercolour by Thomas Bock, of Mathinna, an Aboriginal child of Flinders Island adopted by Lieutenant Governor John Franklin (Felton online), features the young girl wearing a brightly coloured, high-waisted dress. This dress is very similar to the dresses worn by the children on the Proclamation Board (the difference being that Mathinna wears a red dress with a contrasting waistband, the children on the Board wear plain yellow dresses) (Bock). Acknowledging the simplicity of children's clothing during the colonial era, it could still be argued that it would have been unlikely the Governor of the day would have placed a child, enjoying at that time a life of privilege, in a situation where she sat for a portrait wearing an old-fashioned garment. So effective was Hull’s re-imagining of the Board’s creator that the Board was, for many years, popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines with even the date modified, to 1816, to fit Davey’s term of office. Further, it is worth noting that catalogue records acknowledge the error of attribution and list both Davey and Arthur as men connected to the creation of the Proclamation Board. A Surviving Board: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales One of the surviving Proclamation Boards is held by the Mitchell Library. The Boards, oil on Huon pine, were painted by “convict artists incarcerated in the island penal colony” (Carroll 73). The work was mass produced (by the standards of mass production of the day) by pouncing, “a technique [of the Italian Renaissance] of pricking the contours of a drawing with a pin. Charcoal was then dusted on to the drawing” (Carroll 75-76). The images, once outlined, were painted in oil. Of approximately 100 Boards made, several survive today. There are seven known Boards within public collections (Gall 58): five in Australia (Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW, Sydney; Museum Victoria, Melbourne; National Library of Australia, Canberra; Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart; and Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, Launceston); and two overseas (The Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University and the Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, University of Cambridge). The catalogue record, for the Board held by the Mitchell Library, offers the following details:Paintings: 1 oil painting on Huon pine board, rectangular in shape with rounded corners and hole at top centre for suspension ; 35.7 x 22.6 x 1 cm. 4 scenes are depicted:Aborigines and white settlers in European dress mingling harmoniouslyAboriginal men and women, and an Aboriginal child approach Governor Arthur to shake hands while peaceful soldiers look onA hostile Aboriginal man spears a male white settler and is hanged by the military as Governor Arthur looks onA hostile white settler shoots an Aboriginal man and is hanged by the military as Governor Arthur looks on. (SAFE / R 247) The Mitchell Library Board was purchased from J.W. Beattie in May 1919 for £30 (Morris 86), which is approximately $2,200 today. Importantly, the title of the record notes both the popular attribution of the Board and the man who actually instigated the Board’s production: “Governor Davey’s [sic – actually Governor Arthur] Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816 [sic – actually c. 1828-30].” The date of the Board is still a cause of some speculation. The earlier date, 1828, marks the declaration of martial law (Turnbull 94) and 1830 marks the Black Line (Edmonds 215); the attempt to form a human line of white men to force many Tasmanian Aboriginals, four of the nine nations, onto the Tasman Peninsula (Ryan 3). Frankland’s suggestion for the Board was put forward on 4 February 1829, with Arthur’s official Conciliator to the Aborigines, G.A. Robinson, recording his first sighting of a Board on 24 December 1829 (Morris 84-85). Thus, the conception of the Board may have been in 1828 but the Proclamation project was not fully realised until 1830. Indeed, a news item on the Proclamation Board did appear in the popular press, but not until 5 March 1830: We are informed that the Government have given directions for the painting of a large number of pictures to be placed in the bush for the contemplation of the Aboriginal Inhabitants. […] However […] the causes of their hostility must be more deeply probed, or their taste as connoisseurs in paintings more clearly established, ere we can look for any beneficial result from this measure. (Colonial Times 2) The remark made in relation to becoming a connoisseur of painting, though intended to be derogatory, makes some sense. There was an assumption that the Indigenous peoples could easily translate a European-styled execution by hanging, as a visual metaphor for all forms of punishment. It has long been understood that Indigenous “social organisation and religious and ceremonial life were often as complex as those of the white invaders” (McCulloch 261). However, the Proclamation Board was, in every sense, Eurocentric and made no attempt to acknowledge the complexities of Aboriginal culture. It was, quite simply, never going to be an effective tool of communication, nor achieve its socio-legal aims. The Board Re-imagined: Popular Media The re-imagining of the Proclamation Board as a construct of Governor Davey, instead of Governor Arthur, is just one of many re-imaginings of this curious object. There are, of course, the various imaginings of the purpose of the Board. On the surface these images are a tool for reconciliation but as “the story of these paintings unfolds […] it becomes clear that the proclamations were in effect envoys sent back to Britain to exhibit the ingenious attempts being applied to civilise Australia” (Carroll 76). In this way the Board was re-imagined by the Administration that funded the exercise, even before the project was completed, from a mechanism to assist in the bringing about of peace into an object that would impress colonial superiors. Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll has recently written about the Boards in the context of their “transnational circulation” and how “objects become subjects and speak of their past through the ventriloquism of contemporary art history” (75). Carroll argues the Board is an item that couples “military strategy with a fine arts propaganda campaign” (Carroll 78). Critically the Boards never achieved their advertised purpose for, as Carroll explains, there were “elaborate rituals Aboriginal Australians had for the dead” and, therefore, “the display of a dead, hanging body is unthinkable. […] being exposed to the sight of a hanged man must have been experienced as an unimaginable act of disrespect” (92). The Proclamation Board would, in sharp contrast to feelings of unimaginable disrespect, inspire feelings of pride across the colonial population. An example of this pride being revealed in the selection of the Board as an object worthy of reproduction, as a lithograph, for an Intercolonial Exhibition, held in Melbourne in 1866 (Morris 84). The lithograph, which identifies the Board as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines and dated 1816, was listed as item 572, of 738 items submitted by Tasmania, for the event (The Commissioners 69-85). This type of reproduction, or re-imagining, of the Board would not be an isolated event. Penelope Edmonds has described the Board as producing a “visual vernacular” through a range of derivatives including lantern slides, lithographs, and postcards. These types of tourist ephemera are in addition to efforts to produce unique re-workings of the Board as seen in Violet Mace’s Proclamation glazed earthernware, which includes a jug (1928) and a pottery cup (1934) (Edmonds online). The Board Re-imagined: A True Crime Tale The Proclamation Board offers numerous narratives. There is the story that the Board was designed and deployed to communicate. There is the story behind the Board. There is also the story of the credit for the initiative which was transferred from Governor Arthur to Governor Davey and subsequently returned to Arthur. There are, too, the provenance stories of individual Boards. There is another story the Proclamation Board offers. The story of true crime in colonial Australia. The Board, as noted, presents through a four-strip pictogram an idea that all are equal under the rule of law (Arthur 1). Advocating for a society of equals was a duplicitous practice, for while Aborigines were hanged for allegedly murdering settlers, “there is no record of whites being charged, let alone punished, for murdering Aborigines” (Morris 84). It would not be until 1838 that white men would be punished for the murder of Aboriginal people (on the mainland) in the wake of the Myall Creek Massacre, in northern New South Wales. There were other examples of attempts to bring about a greater equity under the rule of law but, as Amanda Nettelbeck explains, there was wide-spread resistance to the investigation and charging of colonists for crimes against the Indigenous population with cases regularly not going to trial, or, if making a courtroom, resulting in an acquittal (355-59). That such cases rested on “legally inadmissible Aboriginal testimony” (Reece in Nettelbeck 358) propped up a justice system that was, inherently, unjust in the nineteenth century. It is important to note that commentators at the time did allude to the crime narrative of the Board: when in the most civilized country in the world it has been found ineffective as example to hang murderers in chains, it is not to be expected a savage race will be influenced by the milder exhibition of effigy and caricature. (Colonial Times 2) It is argued here that the Board was much more than an offering of effigy and caricature. The Proclamation Board presents, in striking detail, the formula for the modern true crime tale: a peace disturbed by the act of murder; and the ensuing search for, and delivery of, justice. Reinforcing this point, are the ideas of justice seen within crime fiction, a genre that focuses on the restoration of order out of chaos (James 174), are made visible here as aspirational. The true crime tale does not, consistently, offer the reassurances found within crime fiction. In the real world, particularly one as violent as colonial Australia, we are forced to acknowledge that, below the surface of the official rhetoric on justice and crime, the guilty often go free and the innocent are sometimes hanged. Another point of note is that, if the latter date offered here, of 1830, is taken as the official date of the production of these Boards, then the significance of the Proclamation Board as a true crime tale is even more pronounced through a connection to crime fiction (both genres sharing a common literary heritage). The year 1830 marks the release of Australia’s first novel, Quintus Servinton written by convicted forger Henry Savery, a crime novel (produced in three volumes) published by Henry Melville of Hobart Town. Thus, this paper suggests, 1830 can be posited as a year that witnessed the production of two significant cultural artefacts, the Proclamation Board and the nation’s first full-length literary work, as also being the year that established the, now indomitable, traditions of true crime and crime fiction in Australia. Conclusion During the late 1820s in Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania) a set of approximately 100 Proclamation Boards were produced by the Lieutenant Governor of the day, George Arthur. The official purpose of these items was to communicate, to the Indigenous peoples of the island colony, that all—black and white—were equal under the law. Murderers, be they Aboriginal or colonist, would be punished. The Board is a re-imagining of one of the traditional methods of communication for Indigenous peoples; the leaving of drawings on the bark of trees. The Board was, in the 1860s, in time for an Intercolonial Exhibition, re-imagined as the output of Lieutenant Governor Davey. This re-imagining of the Board was so effective that surviving artefacts, today, are popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines with the date modified, to 1816, to fit the new narrative. The Proclamation Board was also reimagined, by its creators and consumers, in a variety of ways: as peace offering; military propaganda; exhibition object; tourism ephemera; and contemporary art. This paper has also, briefly, offered another re-imagining of the Board, positing that this early “pamphlet” on justice and punishment actually presents a pre-cursor to the modern Australian true crime tale. The Proclamation Board tells many stories but, at the core of this curious object, is a crime story: the story of mass murder. Acknowledgements The author acknowledges the Palawa peoples: the traditional custodians of the lands known today as Tasmania. The author acknowledges, too, the Gadigal people of the Eora nation upon whose lands this paper was researched and written. 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