When New Zealand’s opposition National Party’s transport spokesperson, Simeon Brown, questioned the logic of bilingual traffic signs, he seemed to echo his leader Christopher Luxon’s earlier misgivings about the now prevalent use of te reo Māori in government departments.

Genuine concern or political signalling in an election year? After all, Luxon himself has expressed interest in learning te reo, and also encouraged its use when he was CEO of Air New Zealand.

He even sought to trademark “Kia Ora” as the title of the airline’s in-flight magazine.

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And for his part, Brown has no problem with Māori place names on road signs. His concern is that important messaging about safety or directions should be readily understood. “Signs need to be clear,” he said.

“We all speak English, and they should be in English.” Adding more words, he believes, is simply confusing.

It’s important to take Brown at his word, then, with a new selection of proposed bilingual signs now out for public consultation. Given the National Party’s enthusiastic embrace of AI to generate pre-election advertising imagery, one obvious place to start is with ChatGPT, which tells us:

Bilingual traffic signs, which display information in two or more languages, are generally not considered a driver hazard. In fact, bilingual signage is often implemented to improve safety and ensure that drivers of different language backgrounds can understand and follow the traffic regulations.

ChatGPT also suggests that by providing information about speed limits, directions and warnings, bilingual traffic signs “accommodate diverse communities and promote road safety for all drivers”.

‘They should be in English’: National to ditch te reo Māori traffic signs https://t.co/7FGYyQDrPu

— RNZ News (@rnz_news) May 26, 2023

Safety and culture
With mounting concern over AI’s potential existential threat to human survival, however, it’s probably best we don’t take the bot’s word for it.

Fortunately, government transport agency Waka Kotahi has already examined the use of bilingual traffic signs in 19 countries across the Americas, Asia, Europe and the Middle East. Its 2021 report states:

The use of bilingual traffic signage is common around the world and considered “standard” in the European Union. Culture, safety and commerce appear to be the primary impetuses behind bilingual signage.

Given Brown’s explicit preference for the use of English, it’s instructive that in the UK itself, the Welsh, Ulster Scots and Scots Gaelic languages appear alongside English on road signs in Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland.

More to the point, on the basis of the evidence it reviewed, Waka Kotahi concluded that — providing other important design considerations are attended to — bilingual traffic signs can both improve safety and respond to cultural aspirations:

In regions of Aotearoa New Zealand where people of Māori descent are over-represented in vehicle crash statistics, or where they represent a large proportion of the local population, bilingual traffic signage may impart benefits in terms of reducing harm on our road network.

‘One people’
Politically, however, the problem with a debate over bilingual road signs is that it quickly becomes another skirmish in the culture wars — echoing the common catchcry of those opposed to greater biculturalism in Aotearoa New Zealand: “We are one people”.

It’s a loaded phrase, originally attributed to the Crown’s representative Lieutenant Governor William Hobson, who supposedly said “he iwi tahi tātou” (we are one people) at the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840.

Whether or not he said any such thing is up for debate. William Colenso, who was at Waitangi on the day and who reported Hobson’s words, thought he had.

But Colenso’s account was published 50 years after the events in question (and just nine years before he died aged 89).

Either way, the assertion has since come to be favoured by those to whom the notion of cultural homogeneity appeals. It’s a common response to the increasing public visibility of te ao Māori (the Māori world).

But being “one people” means other things become singular too: one law, one science, one language, one system. In other words, a non-Māori system, the one many of us take for granted as simply the way things are.

Any suggestion that system might incorporate or coexist with aspects of other systems — indeed might benefit from them — tends to come up against the kind of resistance we see to such things as bilingual road signs.

Fretful sleepers
The discomfort many New Zealanders still feel with the use of te reo Māori in public settings brings to mind Bill Pearson’s famous 1952 essay, Fretful Sleepers.

In it, Pearson reflects on the anxiety that can seep unbidden into the lives of those who would like to live in a “wishfully untroubled world”, but who nonetheless sense things are not quite right out here on the margins of the globe.

Pearson lived in a very different New Zealand. But he had his finger on the same fear and defensiveness that can cause people to fret about the little things (like bilingual signs) when there are so many more consequential things to disrupt our sleep.

Anyway, Simeon Brown and his fellow fretful sleepers appear to be on the wrong side of history. Evidence suggests most New Zealanders would like to see more te reo Māori in their lives, not less.

Two-thirds would like te reo taught as a core subject in primary schools, and 56 percent think “signage should be in both te reo Māori and English”.

If the experience in other parts of the world is anything to go by, bilingual signage will be just another milestone on the road a majority seem happy to be on.

Dr Richard Shaw, Professor of Politics, Massey University.  This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

The death of Queen Elizabeth II brings to an end a long, complex and remarkable chapter in the history of Aotearoa New Zealand’s evolution from colony to independent, bicultural and multicultural nation.

Throughout that period, however, New Zealanders have generally admired and even loved the monarch herself, even if the institution she represented lay at the centre of a vexed, often traumatic, reckoning with the colonial past.

If there was a highpoint in New Zealand royalism, it was witnessed during the first visit by the young Queen and Duke of Edinburgh between December 23 1953 and January 30 1954. 

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An estimated three in every four people turned out to see the royal couple in what historian Jock Phillips has called “the most elaborate and most whole-hearted public occasion in New Zealand history”.

After decades of economic depression and war, Elizabeth’s June 1953 coronation heralded an optimistic postwar atmosphere. Following the conquest of Mount Everest by Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay — claimed as a jewel in the new Queen’s crown — the royal tour was the perfect moment for New Zealand to celebrate.

The Queen’s presence also fulfilled the long anticipated wish that a reigning British monarch would visit. War, then bad health, had previously dashed hopes for a tour by George VI.

Elizabeth II made a huge impression. She appeared as a youthful, radiant, even magical queen, one dedicated to serving her people.

She charmed an older generation and embedded herself in the memories of the children who lined up to see her. They would all grow up to be, one way or another, “royal watchers”, aware of her reign and its milestones, keeping up with the lives of her children, their spouses and her grandchildren.

And then, less than 40 hours after her arrival, the young Queen’s leadership was put to the test when 151 people died in the Tangiwai rail disaster on Christmas Eve. She visited survivors and included words of comfort in her speeches, cementing her connection to the grieving, and to the country.

The female crown
Remarkably, it was not until 2011 that females became equal to males in the rules of British royal succession. Queens only came to power in the absence of a male heir. And yet, this historical sexism also endowed queens with an exceptional quality — strong mother figures presiding over their subjects.

Indeed, in the past two centuries of the British monarchy, it is Queen Victoria (who reigned for almost 64 years) and Queen Elizabeth II (reigning for 70 years) who stand out as not just the longest-serving, but also most significant monarchs.

Both played a crucial part in New Zealand’s history.

In my work as a historian I have argued that the politically conservative “female imperialism”, emblemised in the reigns of Victoria and Elizabeth, encouraged women to support the British Empire and Commonwealth. In turn, it helped raise women’s status in society.

For example, both queens inspired women to “take up their mantle” and work for empire and nation: often in maternal roles with children as teachers and nurses.

The female crown encouraged citizenship based on British values, offering school prizes and support for migrants.

The young Elizabeth’s volunteer work during the Second World War set an example for youth, as did her longtime role as patron of the Girl Guides. The gender-power of the Queen was already on display during the 1952-53 tour when she visited servicewomen, nurses and mothers with new babies, and was given presents for her own children.

Celebrity status
Over the past 70 years, the Queen also became something of a modern celebrity, a fixture in women’s magazines, on radio, television and now social media. As well as turning out to see her in person during her 10 visits, New Zealanders “took her into their homes” with press clippings, souvenir pictures and keepsakes.

During that first tour, the New Zealand Woman’s Weekly pronounced upon the Queen’s role in the enduring relationship with Britain:

An even stronger link will be consolidated and spiritual stimulus given to life by the influence of one who is an inspiration to all.

She was described as “enchanting”, with her “exquisite complexion, her eyes like sapphires […] and her beautiful mobile mouth as she talked and smiled”. In 1963, she was “lovely” with “the breathtaking brilliance of [her] peacock silk outfit against the broad canvas of sea and sky”.

In 1970, she was “a fairytale Queen — a glittering image such as children visualise when they think of the word Queen”. In 1977, “The Queen is perfection”.

On a 1986 visit she was reportedly closer and more familiar than ever, but at nearly 60 her “movements are inclined to be slower, her smile reflects more understanding than youthful sparkle […] and there were times when she looked as if she would rather kick off her shoes and have a cup of tea”.

By the 1980s, the glamour baton had passed to the next generation, notably the hugely popular Diana, Princess of Wales. Proving that royalty was not immune from modern life, three of the Queen’s four children divorced, most publicly and scandalously.

Ironically (perhaps absurdly), there were accusations the Queen was out of touch with the times.

Relationship with a colony
As power devolved around the Commonwealth during the Queen’s reign, the relationship with New Zealand inevitably changed too. Notions of a settler colony of Anglo-Celtic descendants emulating a “superior” British imperial economy, politics and culture — with a distant monarch as head of state — became outmoded.

Most importantly, the colonisation and assimilation of Indigenous peoples were challenged.

As historian Michael Dawson has shown, Māori involvement was minimal at the 1950 Commonwealth Games in Auckland. There was no Māori welcome or presence in the opening or closing ceremonies, with only a musical performance as athletes and officials arrived in the country.

It was left to King Korokī and Te Puea Herangi to hold their own welcome for athletes at Ngāruawāhia. The Prime Minister of the day, Sidney Holland, attended and considered the event an excellent example of good race relations.

But rather than Māori being partners in the planning of the first royal tour, they were largely expected to fit in, mostly providing entertainment.

In the original tour plans, Arawa were expected to represent all Māori during a lunch stop. Only when they asked for more time were plans changed. Meanwhile, the Kīngitanga had to lobby hard for the Queen to visit Ngāruawāhia. This eventually happened, with the Queen and Duke spontaneously deciding to spend more time there than had been allocated.

Importantly, through the Queen’s reign, the Crown’s role in redressing the past became an essential part of New Zealand’s post-colonial development. After much agitation, the Waitangi Tribunal was set up in 1975 to investigate Crown breaches of the Treaty of Waitangi.

In 1987, Māori became an official language. Rather than assimilating into a devolved settler state, decolonisation came to mean mana motuhake for Māori.

By the 1974 Commonwealth Games — the “friendly games” — in Christchurch, Māori “were centrally incorporated” into the festivities, including a leading role in the opening ceremony.

By the 1990 games in Auckland, also the 150th anniversary of signing of the Treaty, emerging biculturalism was evident in the medals incorporating Māori design.

Abandoning Britain?
In late 20th century New Zealand there were simmering republican sentiments. At the same time, because of the regenerating Iwi-Crown relationship under the Treaty, there was a reluctance to move away from Britain constitutionally.

Ironically, it was Britain going its own way – most notably by joining the EEC in 1973 — that moved the issue along. Symbolically, the number and length of temporary working visas for New Zealanders were cut back, despite an “OE” in the “mother country” being still viewed as a rite of passage.

There were other reasons republicanism was not a priority for the state. The shift towards a laissez-faire, free-market economic ideology shifted the ground; the move to a new electoral system in the 1990s underscored New Zealand’s growing independence.

But through those decades of change, the popularity of the Queen provided a constant. If there was a moment when the republican break might have happened, it was missed. New Zealand has been more reticent than Australia, where a referendum on becoming a republic was only narrowly defeated in 1999.

New Zealand has also retired and then later reinstated the royal honours system. Attempts to change the flag and remove the Union Jack from its corner came to nothing in a 2016 referendum.

And New Zealand still doesn’t have its own constitution outlining its fundamental laws of government. Rather, we rely on a conglomerate constitution, messily located in 45 Acts of Parliament. And of course, the Head of State remains a hereditary monarch who lives half a world away.

Aotearoa after Elizabeth
The Queen’s death presents another opportunity for New Zealand to reassess its nationhood — and perhaps be creative.

King Charles and the Queen Consort Camilla simply don’t have the appeal of Elizabeth II. But postcolonial Britain and the modern, diverse Commonwealth still have much to offer an increasingly multicultural New Zealand.

Most importantly, it is time for a broad conversation about how the various dymamics of contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand — liberal and egalitarian traditions, Pākeha settler notions of governance, Te Ao Māori, and the special Iwi-Crown connection — might work together in the future.

After all, Māori signed the Treaty with Queen Victoria at least in part as protection from the behaviour of unruly settlers. Does 21st-century New Zealand still need a monarch to protect against settler colonialism?

Whatever the answer, any move away from the Crown needs to honour the history of which Elizabeth II has been such a significant part.

Dr Katie Pickles is professor of history, University of Canterbury. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

A brown, bicultural generation is changing the face of New Zealand.

That’s according to the Minister for Pacific Peoples, ‘Aupito Sua William Sio, who has previously told RNZ Pacific that as many as two thirds of New Zealand born-Pasifika now had Māori whakapapa as well.

He says that although the Māori-Pasifika dynamic is not a new phenomenon, there is definitely a more apparent and visible presence now.

“You go back to the 1960s and 70s when New Zealanders invited the Pacific workforce to fill the booming manufacturing industry, the freezing works and the forestry and you trace where the people were in South Auckland, in the Waikato regions in Tokoroa, Rotorua and up north, and you will find people who descend from relationships during that workplace,” he says.

“Now that our communities have migrated to the regions, they are settled, they’ve got jobs and are really putting their roots in the ground. I’m seeing that more and more.

“And I’m trying to describe it as the Generation Six Bs – people who are brown, obviously, but they’re brainy, they’re beautiful and bicultural. They’re bilingual, and they’re bold.”

“They’re brainy, they’re beautiful and bicultural. They’re bilingual, and they’re bold.” – ‘Aupito William Sio

So how does this shape the minister’s approach to what the government does?

Collaborating at grassroots level
Since 2018,  ‘Aupito has wanted to formalise the so-called “tuakana-teina” relationship between Māori and Pacific people in an effort to collaborate more at grassroots level.

“I will have ongoing conversations with my Māori caucus colleagues, I think in the last three years in regional New Zealand, we were recognising this and so were my Māori ministers, and so interestingly enough when I said to the Minister of Provincial Growth Fund at the time, I was saying ‘are you seeing what I’m seeing with this diversity of young Pasifika who whakapapa to Māori?’

“He said, ‘yes I am starting to see these long names on the land register’, and even the Minister of Youth Affairs at the time was also acknowledging that he was capturing that diversity.”

‘Aupito said these conversations would continue to see how best Māori and Pasifika could work together.

However, he conceded data could often be unreliable when it came to Pasifika and Māori people, as those collecting the information often lumped them together.

Lourdes Vano is one person who refuses to be put into a single box.

Of Cook Island, Samoan and Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairoa stock, the university student and aspiring politician was on a journey of learning about all three cultures.

‘Learning my ancestry’
“It’s just learning all the different words, and also learning my ancestry, learning about my tupuna, and how they all fit together and where they all come from and what our family tree history is.”

Vano’s efforts were not just for her.

“I’m also doing this so that my siblings don’t have to make too much of a trip to find out about themselves, which is a really, really important sort of taonga, a gift that I want to pass on to them.

“I’ve always felt strongest when I know when I learn more about myself and I learn more about my tupuna and where I’ve come from, and I want to be able to give them that feeling as well.”

Vano says she doesn’t want her whānau to face as many barriers as she had.

“A lot of those barriers include what has happened in the process of colonisation where things have been cut off from us or gatekept from us where we have to pay money or we have to jump through a couple of loops to get to our own history.”

For Vano, straddling multiple cultures can be challenging.

‘Including my islands’
I have found myself in the past leaning into different parts of myself, depending on my environment, depending on where I am. But recently I’ve been trying to notice when I’m doing that. One of the ways that I’m trying to break out of that is including my islands in my pepeha and never refusing any part of myself.”

She points to Green MP Teanau Tuiono as inspiration. From Ngāpuhi and Atiu in the Cook Islands, he talked about his whakapapa during his maiden speech to Parliament in December.

People had asked if he was half Māori and half Pasifika.

“Nah, bro. If anything, I’m whole,” Tuiono said in the House.

“I don’t think anyone is half anything. If anything, I’m double. If I was a beer, I would be Double Brown. If I was the flavour down at the dairy, I’ll be twice as nice but the only half the price. I am two peas in the cultural pod.”

Vano says she has now grown to see the beauty of being both Tagata Pasifika and Tangata Whenua.

“I did struggle with it at first trying to figure out where I fit in but I think the more I learn about these things, the more beautiful it becomes to me and how lucky I am to be able to connect to so many different places and so many very cool places.

Many different communities
“I’m really glad that I am a part of so many different communities that work so well together and have always worked so well together and we were doing amazing things thousands of years ago.They were sailing the ocean hundreds of people at a time and hundreds and hundreds of miles away to get to an island,” Vano says.

Hine Funaki is of Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Whatua, Ngāi Tahu and Tongan heritage and is a doctoral student at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University.

She is also on a journey. One that began when she was a toddler at Kōhanga Reo and primary school where she learnt in a full immersion Māori environment.

However, things changed at high school.

“I just went straight into mainstream thinking that, you know, it wasn’t going to get you anywhere. I kind of bought into their narrative, better off learning Spanish or Mandarin or something else so that you can travel and make money and all this Pākehā or Western concept of success. So I started trying to follow that path and it wasn’t working for me.”

Funaki dropped out of high school at 16, with no qualification, thinking that was her lot in life. She then fell pregnant at 19 and had her son at 20. Her moment of clarity.

“I just knew that he couldn’t go down that same path that I went down, and believe those lies.”

Pivotal moment
So Funaki enrolled as an adult university student and reached another pivotal moment when meeting someone who would eventually become her mentor.

“In my third year of undergrad, I had Cherie Chu, she was in Pacific education and her courses were completely different to the two years that I was doing prior to that, I was with Pākehā lecturers all the time.

“The assignments I didn’t understand, I didn’t understand the literature. I just felt so unconfident and inadequate. And then in my third year, I finally met somebody who made the class inclusive, assessments inclusive and accessible. The literature, I understood it.”

Funaki continues to play it forward, mentoring young Māori and Pacific students as they try to navigate a world which has not always welcomed them.

“I can’t turn off the fact that I walk in these multiple different worlds. And so I carry that lens with me all the time and so I think of spaces all the time, physical spaces, relational spaces, theoretical spaces, and so if that space feels safe with certain people, then I feel like I can navigate it a bit more smoothly. Even if I’m still figuring it out. I can do it without feeling ashamed.

“Like I can mess up, and it’s okay, but if it’s in a space like predominantly Pākehā, Western, white spaces, if that whakamā is there, I won’t feel safe to even try and instead I just try and push back or I select spaces that I go to that I know I will feel more comfortable.”

But when Funaki and her colleagues addressed a workshop about how more professors could be Māori and Pasifika, she realised it was important to share stories for change.

Changing the dynamic
Funaki says it is about claiming spaces and changing the dynamic so that she comes from a perspective of pushing for change and not delivering trauma on a silver platter for others to consume.

Funaki keeps advocating for her people, driven by her heritage, both from the Pacific and Aotearoa.

“I can’t just be quiet and complacent. I can’t not say anything or call anything out when injustice is happening, like I feel the need to even more speak up because of my ancestors. When you know you have Pasifika descent in your family who migrated over for the idea of wanting better, or the land of milk and honey.

“You feel this obligation to give back and to do something with that sacrifice they have given. So having this Tongan inside of me and knowing that even though I’m not immersed fully in the Tongan culture, I still feel proud that that’s in my blood.”

Funaki says her Māori heritage and the struggles in institutions like universities, gave her even more motivation.

But still, it could be physically, mentally and spiritually tiring. Funaki said it was her pride in who she was that maintained her.

“That ancestral link, that blood that we have. What our people did to even get here. That’s not by chance or accident. That was navigation, that was intelligence. That’s science. Our people are smart and always have been, for generations. So I’m proud to be Māori and Tongan.”

Proud of his mixed heritage
Haereiti Hetet is someone else who is proud of his mixed heritage. The Fijian rugby international represented his mother’s whakapapa, from Ngāti Maniapoto and Ngāti Tuwharetoa, when he turned out for the Māori All Blacks in 2019, ironically against Fiji. He said being involved in that team made him want to learn more of the Māori language.

Although born and bred in Otorohanga, and surrounded mostly by his Māori whānau, Hetet said rugby had allowed greater access to both his cultures. When it came to his time with the Flying Fijians in 2020 and the Māori All Blacks the year before, both teams took time and made space to acknowledge their wairua, whether it be Fijian prayers and hymns sung multiple times during the day, or karakia and waiata with the Māori team.

“I’m probably still trying to really, fully connect. I want to understand both languages still, it’s still an ongoing journey,” Hetet says.

However, it was challenging trying to connect and learn two cultures and languages in the course of what has become a busy life.

“Throughout the day, you run out of time, you go to work, I’m still trying to train regularly to stay in good condition, just in case somebody comes up. I also have a small family as well, so it’s just finding a balance.”

Hetet says he is trying to find an hour, or a half an hour to keep his learning going. He hopes one day to get to his father’s [former Fijian international Joe Veitayaki] island of Matuku to take his cultural journey to the next level, but in the meantime he will continue to connect via his marae and community in Aotearoa.

And as Aotearoa marked another Waitangi Day, he believes it is a good opportunity for Māori to have their voice heard as they continue to fight for land and rights as tangata whenua.

Waitangi Day unsettling
But for Hine Funaki – Waitangi Day is unsettling.

“To me it’s like this constant reminder of, let’s pretend we have this romanticised lens of a bicultural partnership and then let’s even claim multiculturalism, because we are a multi-ethnic nation and it’s like this time to celebrate and put on these pretty window dressings for another year.”

But Funaki says it is lies.

“Where’s the part where you acknowledge your treaty roles, where’s the part where partnership actually means something and doing something together as equals? That doesn’t mean junior partnerships,” she says.

Lourdes Vano understands that hurt. For her, the day is an opportunity for education and information.

“If you don’t know what to do on Waitangi Day and you’re scared of contributing to something that you don’t know completely about, use it as a day for education. Ranginui Walker’s Struggle Without End is a really good starter book about Māori history and New Zealand/Aotearoa and really sets the scene and gives so much context for Waitangi Day.”

Vano says people could also use it as a day to find out how they could support tangata whenua.

They sound like words from this growing Generation B – so named by ‘Aupito William Sio – Brown, Brainy, Beautiful, Bicultural, Bilingual and Bold.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Journalism educators from across the Pacific have raised concerns about the current state of journalism globally at the 4th World Journalism Education Congress (WJEC) at the Auckland University of Technology this week.

The panel of educators from across New Zealand and Australia agreed better practice in journalism is required in order to truly represent diverse communities and those seen as “minorities” and disadvantaged.

Bernard Whelan, manager of Whitireia’s journalism programme, Tara Ross of the University of Canterbury, Professor David Robie of the Pacific Media Centre, and Kathryn Shine of Western Australia’s Curtin University, all said better practice could be achieved through instilling improved methods with young and aspiring journalists. 

This echoed points raised by both Dr Lee Duffield and journalism educator Dr Philip Cass on Wednesday at the JEERA preconference that students were at the heart of developments in the industry.

‘Bicultural responsibility’
Whelan noted how the mainstay of American news values left no apparent room in the mainstream media to explore more “indigenous” and alternative models of reporting.

He stressed journalists, particularly in New Zealand regarding Māori, had a “bicultural responsibility” to at least consider these forms and hoped that through his PhD research a bicultural model for journalism education could be “deeply ingrained” into Whitireia’s programme.

Ross noted how students needed to report with and not on the community, which was not currently the norm as it was different from “normative” educational process.

She stressed the importance of students understanding the consequences of their stories and noted how they need a measure of accountability.

This evoked a vocal response from one of the delegates present, who stressed that a journalist’s stories are not momentary for those that are featured, as the story has a “lasting, lifelong digital attachment”.

Negative focus detrimental
Shine however, raised the important issue of the prevalence of negativity in the media and the media’s seeming inability to pull away from the “if it bleeds, it leads” mentality that continues to drive the mainstream news cycle.

She said such a negative focus might mean the media was “out of sync” with the very community it sought to inform. This echoed sentiments delivered earlier by Ross, who noted that what the media perceived as the community needing was not necessarily what it wanted.

Shine also highlighted the importance of pulling away from such negative stories and perceptions with her research into teachers’ perceptions of the news and journalists.

She found more than 80 percent of teachers believed coverage of their work was negative, while 60 percent said “sweeping generalisations” resulted in media coverage being biased.

More than half concluded that the media did not convey the realities of both schools and teaching, she said.

Such revelations were concerning, as it led the community to question the credibility of the media.

In the Q and A session following the panel, one delegate raised the concern that such issues in the coverage of education posed serious dilemmas for the potential influx of young journalists, as “teachers have a fundamental influence in students career choices”.

Independent media important
Pacific Media Centre director Professor David Robie drew on the examples of Pacific Scoop and Asia Pacific Report in a case study to stress the importance of the presence of independent, alternative media in journalism schools for students to explore their potential.

Dr Robie highlighted how such media demonstrated best practice as a “cornerstone of democracy”.

He said it was integral to involve students in such a process, and noted the “innovative” work that had been achieved by postgraduate students on the PMC’s Asia-Pacific Journalism Studies course over the past few years, including missions to the Pacific.

Students from the course had covered the the 2014 general election in Fiji — the first since the 2006 militrary coup — and had assignments involving climate change in Fiji, and the Pacific Islands Forum in the Cook Islands and Vanuatu.

Both the panelists and delegates noted that if changes were not made to dominant paradigms and mainstays of journalism soon that the “rubber would hit the road” leading to an internal moral crises within the industry.

• WJEC16: Role of journalism students
• Asia Pacific Report