Copyright is owned by the Author of the thesis. Permission is given for a copy to be downloaded by an individual for the purpose of research and private study only. The thesis may not be reproduced elsewhere without the permission of the Author. The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour Art, the internet and national identity in Aotearoa-New Zealand An exegesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Fine Arts Massey University, Wellington New Zealand Bronwyn Holloway-Smith 2018 i “The internet does not exist. maybe it did exist only a short time ago, but now it only remains as a blur, a cloud, a friend, a deadline, a redirect, or a 404. If it ever existed, we couldn’t see it. Because it has no shape. It has no face, just this name that describes everything and nothing at the same time.” 1 1 Julieta Aranda, Brian Kuan Wood and Anton Vidokle, “Introduction,” in E-Flux Journal: The Internet Does Not Exist, eds, Aranda, Kuan Wood and Vidokle (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2015), 9. ii iii Abstract This exegesis is the written analytical component of a studio-based Doctor of Philosophy that, as a whole, investigates the influence of international hegemony and power structures on popular notions of Aotearoa-New Zealand’s national identity. Selected histories and locations of New Zealand’s primary international internet connection, the Southern Cross Cable, have been taken and applied within a body of conceptually driven artworks that function as an effective metonymic vehicle to reveal unseen processes, conveyed over a specific infrastructural system, that are influential upon New Zealand’s national identity. The creative works in this thesis comprise the suite of artworks The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, a multi-platform art project comprising two moving image works, a sculptural work, a published tour guide and its associated web-based work. These sit alongside, and in response to, a historic mid-twentieth century New Zealand mural: Te Ika-a-Maui [sic] by the artist E. Mervyn Taylor. Together, these works encourage public awareness of the jurisdictional limits of the internet, and illustrate ways in which an individual member of the public can respond to the supposedly ‘intangible’ internet in a physical manner. By strategically subverting popular nationalist symbolism, the works raise questions about the relevance of nationalism in an era of expanding globalisation and suggest the internet is increasingly becoming a tool of digital colonialism. By distributing this knowledge in the public sphere, this study challenges and tests the assumption—often asserted and implied by those who control this infrastructure and obscure it from public awareness—that public knowledge is a threat to the cable. Instead, viewers are encouraged to explore what individual agency they do, or do not, have as New Zealand citizens in shaping this dominant influence on contemporary New Zealand culture. iv Acknowledgements To Matthew Holloway for his confidence in my ability to persevere and complete a doctorate despite giving birth to our third child in the middle of it all. “We’ll figure out a way to make it work”, we said, with nervous laughter and sideways glances, and here we are. To my supervisors Distinguished Professor Sally J. Morgan and Dr Martin Patrick for their advocacy, patience, sympathy and understanding through an ambitious and challenging few years. To the numerous folk who have provided advice and support (both practical and emotional) throughout the past four years including, but not limited to: At the Massey College of Creative Arts: Professor Claire Robinson, Ann Shelton, Sue Elliott, and my other wonderful colleagues. At City Gallery Wellington: Aaron Lister, Robert Leonard, Elizabeth Caldwell, Amber Baldock, Cat Williams, Phillip Robertson, and the other fabulous members of staff. Those who have contributed in some way to this body of work: Mark Amery, Sophie Jerram, Hamish MacEwan, Mark Antony Steelsmith, Duncan Munro, Jocelyn Smith, Murray Smith, Vaughan Smith, Rowan Smith, Mike McGrath, Jenny Steele, Rose Evans, Conor Roberts, Tony Briscoe, Cleve Cameron, Kirsten Brown, Harry Silver, Kerry Males, Kerry Ann Lee, Kylie Sutcliffe, Johanna Sanders, Rachel O’Neill, Ros Cameron, Sarah Jane Parton, Rose McColl, Jon Brewer, Dale Morgan, Margaret Kawharu, Nicole Starosielski, Shaun Waugh, Sarah Taylor, Bronwyn Taylor, and Nick Taylor, Raewyn Martyn, Paul Wilson, and Evan Roth. Finally, to my exceptional children Stella, Abel and Lane. I hope this in some small way helps keep the internet you inherit from being super freaky and creepy. Thank you all. v Contents List of illustrations vi 1.0 Introduction 1 2.0 Review of the field 35 3.0 Process 57 4.0 Results 79 5.0 Conclusion 141 Bibliography 144 Appendices 155 vi List of illustrations [FIG 1] Creative Freedom Foundation website, screenshot. 9 [FIG 2] The CFF Internet Blackout campaign demonstration outside Parliament. Left: The author conducting interviews with media; Right: The author presenting a petition to MP Peter Dunne. 10 [FIG 3] The official Southern Cross Cable Network map. Image: Southern Cross Cables Ltd. 12 [FIG 4] Left: an exhibit from the Telegraph Museum Porthcurno showing examples of cable breaks and faults; Right: Breaks and Faults (2015), a preliminary work made during this study. 13 [FIG 5] Developmental artwork: The Earthquake. 14 [FIG 6] Screenshot of the author’s Citizen Ex Algorithmic Citizenship. 16 [FIG 7] GCSB slide leaked by Snowden showing “Project Speargun Underway”. 27 [FIG 8] Landing the shore end of the Great Barrier Island submarine cable at Port Charles, Coromandel Coast, 26 Sep 1908. Image: Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries. 31 [FIG 9] Pages from the official COMPAC booklet issued by the New Zealand Post Office. Courtesy: Archives New Zealand (R21682129). 36 [FIG 10] Left: Council Chambers of Wellington Town Hall during official opening of COMPAC. Courtesy: Archives New Zealand (R20938281); Right: Commemorative COMPAC stamps, (top) New Zealand, (bottom) United Kingdom. 37 [FIG 11] Te Ika-a-Maui, COMPAC Terminal. Image: K. V. Lunn, 1975. Courtesy: Archives New Zealand (R20940427). 39 [FIG 12] Screenshot, Evan Roth: Ghost hunting across New Zealand, POSTmatter.merimedia.com. Depicted is one of the buildings at the site of the SX Whenuapai landing station. 44 [FIG 13] John Johnston, Five Eyes Network. Surveillance Outpost (2013). Image: John Johnston, CC-BY-NC 3.0. 45 [FIG 14] Simon Denny: David Darchicourt world map commission with New Zealand as the centre, 2015. 47 [FIG 15] Left: The mural tiles, stacked in boxes. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. Right: Te Ika-a-Akoranga nearing completion, JWT offices, Auckland, 2014. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 62 [FIG 16] The COMPAC Visitor’s Book. 63 [FIG 17] Image of Voting Paper from Elections.org.nz website. 67 [FIG 18] The 100% Pure campaign. Image: Tourism New Zealand. 70 [FIG 19] Installation concepts for CGW. Left: 17 November 2017; Right 28 November 2017. Images: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 80 [FIG 20] Installation concept 29 January 2018. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 82 vii [FIG 21] Entrance to This Is New Zealand, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 83 [FIG 22] The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, installation entrance, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 85 [FIG 23] The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, installation showing (L–R) The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour (Publication); A Power Troubles The Still; and The Speargun Conspiracy, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 86 [FIG 24] The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, installation showing (L–R) The Speargun Conspiracy, and Te Ika-a-Maui, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 87 [FIG 25] The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, installation showing (L–R) The Long Walk to Northern Waters; The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour (Publication); and A Power Troubles The Still, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 88 [FIG 26] Takapuna Beach, Auckland, New Zealand. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 89 [FIG 27] Map of the Hauraki Gulf showing the intended dive site in the Cable Exclusion Zone. Courtesy: LINZ CC-BY 4.0. 90 [FIG 28] An article in a local newspaper covering the Southern Cross Cable blessing ceremony. Daryl McIntosh, “Southern Cross phone cable blessed,” North Shore Times, November 16, 2000, 5. 92 [FIG 29] A Power Troubles The Still, video still. 94 [FIG 30] The Southern Cross Cable landing station at Northcote. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 98 [FIG 31] Left: The entranceway to the COMPAC foyer, 2014; Right: the second-hand door. Images: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 100 [FIG 32] The artist at work creating painted replicas of the missing tiles. Image: Louise Hatton. 101 [FIG 33] Standing in front of Te Ika-a-Maui at the launch of Wanted: The Search for the Modernist Murals of E. Mervyn Taylor. (L–R) Nicola Legat, Claire Robinson, myself, Dame Patsy Reddy, Sir David Gasgoine and Elizabeth Caldwell, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 102 [FIG 34] The Southern Cross Cable landing station at Whenuapai. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 103 [FIG 35] Digital rendering of the envisioned billboard outside the Whenuapai station. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 106 [FIG 36] Labelled Photograph of the Royal New Zealand Air Force Station in 1962 showing the base’s former telephone exchange. Image: Air Force Museum of New Zealand. 109 [FIG 37] Left: Still from Popper and Serafinowicz, Look Around You, Series 1, Module 9: Brain; Right: Still from Michael Stevenson, Introduccion a la teoria de la probabilidad (2008). 112 [FIG 38] The Speargun Conspiracy, video still. 114 [FIG 39] The Beach Access Road at Muriwai Beach, under which the Southern Cross Cable is buried. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 120 [FIG 40] An historic cable, emerging from the sand above the Okiritoto Stream, Muriwai, Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 121 [FIG 41] “Do Not Dig” marker posts at Muriwai Beach. Image: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith. 123 [FIG 42] The Long Walk to Northern Waters, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 125 viii [FIG 43] The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour (Publication) showing framed photograph and shelf installation, City Gallery Wellington, 2018. 131 [FIG 44] Left: Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer Above The Sea of Fog (1818); Right: Bronwyn Holloway-Smith, Untitled (2015). 134 [FIG 45] Screenshot: Additional content webpage, The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour. 136 1 1.0 Introduction This exegesis is the written analytical component of a studio-based Doctor of Philosophy. The creative works comprise the suite of artworks, The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour, a multi-platform art project comprising two moving image works, a sculptural work, a published tour guide and its associated web-based work. These are exhibited in conversation with a mid-twentieth century New Zealand mural, Te Ika-a-Maui by the artist E. Mervyn Taylor, which I discovered and restored during the early stages of this research process. As a whole, this research investigates the influence of international hegemony and power structures on popular notions of Aotearoa-New Zealand’s national identity. It takes selected histories and locations of New Zealand’s primary international internet connection, the Southern Cross Cable (which for purposes of brevity I will refer to as the “SX”), and applies them within a body of conceptually driven artworks that function as an effective metonymic vehicle2 to reveal unseen processes, conveyed over a specific infrastructural system, that are influential upon New Zealand’s national identity. The internet is widely credited with radically disrupting and altering global economic, social, political, and cultural systems. Notwithstanding its highly scrutinised impact, analysis of the effect of the internet on New Zealand national identity has largely been overlooked. Instead, the internet is widely promoted as a solution to New Zealand’s ongoing struggle with its geographical isolation in relation to the global north, and the oft- lampooned national inferiority complex that has developed within the culture as a result (particularly that of the dominant Pākehā culture). Distance looks our way, and New Zealand national identity has long been shaped by it. 3 2 A metonym is a figure of speech in which a thing or concept is referred to by the name of something closely associated with that thing or concept. By way of example, “The Crown” is a metonymic vehicle that can be used as a substitute for the government. In this study “The Southern Cross Cable” is used as a substitute for discussions of the broader concept that the internet is challenging popular notions of New Zealand national identity. 3 C. K. Stead, Distance Looks Our Way (Auckland: The University of Auckland, 1961), 96: “remoteness is not something our writers should deny or regret, but something to be acknowledged and exploited.” Although this too generally emanated from a highly Eurocentric framing that drew upon early Modernist modes of representation. As Mark Williams finds: “The New Zealand identity fashioned by the mid-century nationalists rested on the romantic 2 In the Post-Snowden Era, the public perception of the internet is manifold. 4 While continuing to serve as a cost-effective information distribution tool, it has also come to represent an unseen threat. As Christine Smallwood observes, “the history of the Internet is a history of metaphors about the Internet, all stumbling around this dilemma: How do we talk to each other about an invisible god?”5 If this intangible force—or god—is inactive, the threat is simply conjecture. But if this god is found to be violating agreed laws, what agency do people have to respond? As Peter Dahlgren highlights, visibility is a “central aspect to participation.” 6 Like the Wizard of Oz, the first task in demystifying the internet as a god-like force involves an investigation into, and delineation of, the limits of its power. As I am a New Zealand citizen, I have restricted this delineation to the jurisdictional boundaries of Aotearoa-New Zealand (within my practical limits of democratic influence). During the timeframe of this study, access to the international internet within these boundaries has been supported by a single system: The Southern Cross Cable. This exegesis questions the behaviour of this seemingly omnipotent, omnipresent, intangible ‘god’, deconstructing the myth of its invisibility and using conceptual art strategies to reframe it as a tangible system, thus proposing that some democratic public agency remains in shaping the manner in which it is regulated. Art is one mechanism through which notions of national identity are established and explored. Attempts to define and understand New Zealand national identity are a constant in the country’s art history.7 In recent decades, artists have developed more nuanced responses that address the complexities of New Zealand national identity. Many of these practitioners have been included in the exhibition This Is New Zealand (City Gallery Wellington, 2018) alongside my own project, The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour. view, influential in Britain between the wars, that national consciousness was a result of the organic response over time by a given people to a specific landscape.” “Crippled by Geography? New Zealand Nationalisms,” in Not On Any Map, ed. Stuart Murray (Devon: University of Exeter Press, 1997), 19–42. 4 The descriptor “Post-Snowden” refers to the period following the leak of thousands of classified documents by a former contractor to the National Security Agency of the United States, Edward Snowden. The first leak occurred in May 2013, and since then term has been used extensively by academics, journalists, and other writers to describe a drastically altered cyber landscape. 5 Christine Smallwood, “What does the internet look like?,” The Baffler, December 2009, https://thebaffler.com/salvos/what-does-the-internet-look-like. 6 Peter Dahlgren, The Political Web: Media, Participation and Alternative Democracy (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 55. 7 This has primarily been at the hand of Pākehā artists concerned and/or fascinated by their sense of isolation from the centres of the Western art canon–Europe and North America. Understandably, this theme is not as apparent in the work of Māori artists, or that of artists from the various Pacific and Asian diaspora. 3 As a whole, the exhibition This Is New Zealand: “considers how our country has represented itself, and what those representations have included and excluded. It takes a critical look at the stories we have told ourselves—and others—about who we are.”8 Alongside my own work, the show includes pieces by Simon Denny, Gavin Hipkins, Emil McAvoy, Fiona Pardington, Michael Parekowhai, and Michael Stevenson. Over the last two decades, a number of artists from the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and Singapore have created works that seek to establish a visual language for internet infrastructure. Taryn Simon, Steve Rowell, Lance Wakeling, Trevor Paglen, and Charles Lim have all made work about submarine internet cables. Three other artists (an American and two New Zealanders living variously in Paris, Auckland, and Berlin) have created works that engage with aspects of the SX, either explicitly (Evan Roth, John Johnston) or implicitly (Simon Denny). None of these artists have created public artworks using the SX as a metonymic vehicle to critique and reveal hidden relationships between the internet and New Zealand national identity. Through my own project, Te Ika-a-Akoranga (2014) whereby I uncovered and restored Te Ika-a-Maui as part of a commission from public art commissioning group Letting Space, I learned that there is a gap—that New Zealand contemporary art is noticeably absent when it comes to visualising New Zealand’s internet infrastructure. My creative practice methodology is that of an investigative artist: a hybridized approach that draws upon, and is informed by, the fields of investigative journalism, conceptual art, socially-engaged practice, and art in the public sphere. My topics of research are often located at the interface of art, politics, and science/technology, with past subjects responding to a broad field of enquiry into established systems of power and control over knowledge and information. This has led my research into areas such as the changing nature of the public sphere in a neo-liberal age, the commons, the politics of copying, and the colonial as a theme in speculative fiction. Resulting projects are often realised in various media, operate across multiple platforms, and include participatory elements as a means of relinquishing some of the power traditionally held by the artist and arts institutions, and enabling audiences to engage with projects on their own terms. 8 “This is New Zealand,” City Gallery Wellington, accessed June 25, 2018, https://citygallery.org.nz/exhibitions/this-is-new-zealand/. 4 This study extends my focus more specifically into aspects of nationalism, neocolonialism, digital citizenship, and the post-Snowden era. Through my investigative art methodology, I have created a body of publicly-accessible artworks that reframe selected histories and locations of the SX as an effective metonymic vehicle that reveals unseen processes that are influential upon New Zealand’s national identity, providing my audience with a participatory mechanism (a tour guide) through which they might engage with the sites on their own terms. 1.1 Hello World I was born in the Hutt Valley, Wellington, in 1982. One year later, New Zealand’s first fibre- optic communications cable was installed a few blocks away from where I was growing up, signifying the early stages that would lead to the internet’s arrival in New Zealand. Canadian author and journalist Michael Harris has accurately pinpointed the position my demographic occupies, saying “If you were born before 1985, then you know what life is like both with the internet and without. You are making the pilgrimage from Before to After.” 9 Harris opines that the members of my generation are “the last people in history to know life before the internet, we are also the only ones who will ever speak, as it were, both languages.”10 We naturally oscillate between the analogue and digital worlds, translating back and forth as we do so. Although I was unaware of it at the time, a few years after I was born my paternal grandfather retired from his position as the Deputy Head of Communications and Security at the Government Communications Security Bureau (GCSB). This institution would later become implicated in one of the most contentious internet-related global public debates to date: Edward Snowden’s revelations of a mass internet surveillance programme, PRISM. Led by the United States’ National Security Agency (NSA) the programme was operated by the Five Eyes alliance, which comprised the governmental spy agencies of the United States (US), the United Kingdom (UK), Canada, New Zealand (NZ), and Australia. The GCSB were complicit in the programme. 9 Leo Mirani, “What it feels like to be the last generation to remember life before the internet,” Quartz, August 14, 2014, https://qz.com/252456/what-it-feels-like-to-be-the-last-generation-to-remember-life-before-the-internet/. Although an argument might be made that the date of 1985 might be later in New Zealand–perhaps 1995. 10 Mirani, “What it feels like.” 5 I grew up in Petone, Lower Hutt.11 After the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840, a fleet of ships packed with British immigrants arrived on the Petone foreshore and established the first British settlement there, a village of huts which they named Britannia. Britannia was a remarkably short-lived settlement, lasting just a few months before it was destroyed by the flooding of Te Awakairangi, the Hutt River.12 Branches of my Pākehā ancestry trace back to this early colonial period, with my paternal and maternal grandmothers being fifth and seventh generation New Zealanders respectively. These settlers sowed the seeds for what later became our country’s dominant national culture—the Pākehā culture—a culture distinct from, but forever connected to, its European origins. Another branch of my family tree includes a more recent arrival to Aotearoa and a migration story marked by the need to fit in rather than to establish dominance. Upon his post-World War II migration to New Zealand from Holland, my maternal grandfather Jan Kok anglicised his name to “John Cook” in order to assimilate into the dominant Pākehā culture and avoid discrimination. He did not teach his children his native language, and they learned very little about being Dutch, so this cultural heritage was not something they were able to pass down to the next generation. This lack of connection to the language and culture of the Netherlands did not prevent my siblings from attaining Dutch passports in 2002, leading them to become dual citizens—an opportunity I missed, and am now unable to revisit.13 My ineligibility (contrasted with my siblings’ dual citizenship) is proof indeed that, in the contemporary era, nationality can be a somewhat fickle and arbitrarily determined thing. The end of the decade in which I was born was marked by the deregulation of New Zealand’s telecommunications. Not long after my birth, the country’s left-wing government took an abrupt turn towards neoliberalism. From the very first phone call made in New Zealand in 1878 all phone services had been controlled by the state, and for 11 Petone is an English bastardisation of the Māori name, Pito-one. 12 Chris Maclean, “Wellington region - The struggle to survive: 1840–1865,” Te Ara - the Encyclopaedia of New Zealand, July 9, 2007, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/wellington-region/page-7. 13 “Dutch citizenship through grandparents,” Expatriates, accessed July 4, 2018, https://expatriates.stackexchange.com/questions/7727/dutch-citizenship-through-grandparents. The opportunity closed in 2013. Passports from Holland are currently ranked amongst the most powerful in the world, with only Singaporean and German passports having greater weight. “Global Passport Power Rank 2018,” Arton Capital, accessed July 4, 2018, https://www.passportindex.org/byRank.php. 6 the best part of the twentieth century these services were provided through the state- owned Post Office. In 1987 the Post Office was divided up and the phone service was renamed “Telecom”. In 1990 Telecom was privatised when the government sold it to a consortium made up of national and international interests.14 Telephones, television, print media, and the radio were the dominant modes of communication during my childhood in the 1980s and 1990s. At this time the country was becoming more aware of its bicultural heritage and obligations. At my primary school, a private Christian school, we stood for the New Zealand national anthem which played through a cassette player each morning as the national flag was raised. Our te ao Māori education followed the New Zealand primary school curriculum at the time and, while it was more than primary school students in previous decades would have received, it was ultimately superficial—we were taught some basic te reo Māori and sometimes baked rewana bread with a Māori kuia who came to visit. Due to my religiously-biased upbringing and primary school education, I struggled to adjust to the secular high school I attended from age thirteen onwards. My Christian indoctrination set me apart from my fellow Pākehā students, and I developed my first friendships with a group of culturally Christian Samoan girls. They called me “Balani”—a portmanteau of Bronny (a shortened form of Bronwyn) and Pālagi (a coloquial Samoan word which means European).15 While I was a member of the dominant culture in New Zealand by birth, I was keenly aware that my upbringing and semi-evangelical faith made me an outsider. Throughout secondary school, I elected to study music and art: the haven of teenage misfits everywhere. I went on to undertake a Bachelor of Fine Arts at Massey University in Wellington, starting my studies in the year 2000, the same year that the SX came online. At the start of my degree, much of our research as millennial students was still conducted within the bounds of card catalogues at the library. After a stint living overseas (Melbourne and Vienna) and traveling on my New Zealand passport (which afforded me the privilege of relatively unhindered mobility across national borders, but at 14 A. C. Wilson, “Telecommunications - Post and Telegraph, 1914–1945,” Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, published March 11, 2010, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/telecommunications/page-6. 15 R. W. Allardice, A Simplified Dictionary of Modern Samoan, (Auckland: Polynesian Press, 1985), 133. 7 the time was not as powerful as a passport from countries within the European Union), I returned to university and finished my Bachelor of Fine Arts with Honours. The brief break in my studies marked a turning point, as upon my return to university I found myself utilising the internet in new and interesting ways. I was also much more conscious of how the dominant culture operated in my home country, having broadened my horizons through the quintessentially Pākehā O.E., albeit a non-conventional version. 16 My interest in the internet as a concept informed my Honours project, Virtually Maybe (2005), a series of pencil-on-paper reproductions of a range of images sourced from the internet that included falsified facts, or fiction presented as truth. When these works were subsequently shown in an exhibition in New Plymouth curated by Bruce Philips, he described them thus: Virtually Maybe, explores the naïve acceptance and cynical scepticism of truth in today’s digital culture. The drawings, arranged on the wall not unlike spam windows that pop up unexpectedly on a computer screen, are carefully sketched copies of images derived from suspect Internet sites. Smith’s study of the Internet images, carefully depicted to the pixel, suggests a paradox. The irony being that a fresh perspective and questioning of sophisticated computer communication can be obtained via the traditional technique and physical act of cross hatching in pencil. Indeed the simplicity and candidness of the drawings suggests a sincere search or testing of truth among a seductive bombardment of glowing pixels that claim extraordinary realities.17 It was when I was making Virtually Maybe that I first became interested in artists’ legal and ethical responsibilities when it came to respecting and acknowledging copyright. I sought clarification from my lecturers over my obligations to the original creators of the images I was reproducing, but was told “Don’t worry about copyright.” This avoidance of answering my question had the counteractive effect of further inspiring my curiosity, leading me on a long and unexpected foray into the world of Copyright. 16 OE is an acronym for “Overseas Experience,” a New Zealand term for an extended overseas working period or holiday. 17 Bruce Philips, accompanying text for Draw’n’ exhibition, 110 Devon St New Plymouth, 24–25 June, 2006. Bronwyn Holloway-Smith, “Virtually Maybe,” accessed July 4, 2018, http://bronwyn.co.nz/projects/virtually- maybe/. 8 My research into the intersection between art, ownership, and the internet intensified as I progressed through my career in the IT and arts sectors. My web developer partner and I celebrated our civil union in 2008, and this union, of an artist and an IT professional, could be seen as a metaphor for my practice. In late 2008 we co-founded the Creative Freedom Foundation (CFF), a not-for-profit trust established in response to changes in New Zealand law that “threatened to undermine artists’ and public rights in the name of protecting creativity.”18 Through the CFF we sought to represent New Zealand artists' perspectives in New Zealand political conversations about the use and abuse of information technology. We launched with our Internet Blackout campaign against a new provision in the Copyright Act (Section 92A) which called for internet providers to “reasonably implement” a policy (determined in negotiation with major rights holder groups) to disconnect the accounts of customers who were decided to be “repeat copyright infringers”.19 No burden of proof was called for by the law, and the necessity for the informed opinions of independent copyright experts was not specified as a measure to ensure that an alleged copyright infringement had actually taken place. CFF argued that this proposed system held too much faith that private businesses would employ a just and ethical model for determining repeat copyright infringement. We felt it was much more plausible that they would implement a process that best suited their business interests. It was more likely, for example, that a small internet service provider approached by a large (inevitably United States-based) litigious rights-holding body would take a risk-management approach, choosing to disconnect a customer rather than face potentially hefty costs defending themselves against a major film studio or recording company. In this equation, private individuals (including artists) would lose their access to the internet for acts they had potentially not committed, as well as their ability to access information and knowledge and participate in social, political, and economic spheres. 18 “About Us’” Creative Freedom Foundation, accessed July 5, 2018, http://creativefreedom.org.nz/about/. 19 Becky Hogge, “Winning the Web: Stories of Grassroots Campaigning for Access to Knowledge in the Networked Digital Age,” IssueLab, May 1, 2009, https://www.issuelab.org/resource/winning-the-web-stories-of-grassroots- campaigning-for-access-to-knowledge-in-the-networked-digital-age.html. 9 Fig 1 Creative Freedom Foundation website, screenshot. For me, the most serious issue underlying this debate was the threat that Section 92A posed to freedom of expression in New Zealand. There was the potential for the law to be used as a form of censorship.20 Would a small internet service provider, untrained in copyright law, have sufficient understanding of Fair Dealing exceptions to be able to determine whether something was actually an infringement or not? 21 Would art that used material created by people other than the artist without their explicit permission be up for scrutiny? Could this process be abused by private interests attempting to hamper their competitors by identifying similarities in their work and claiming they were copyright infringements? Could a government (with access to mass-surveillance data) silence dissidents by accusing them of infringing copyright resulting in the discontinuation of their online access for an unspecified period? With public life in New Zealand increasingly moving online, these threats were significant. As the Director of the CFF and spokesperson for the Internet Blackout campaign (which took place in 2009), I responded to these threats through the established methodologies of a lobbyist. I met with politicians, learned about the law-making process, and how New Zealand public opinion might be shaped through carefully designed messages delivered via mainstream media channels, particularly the emerging platforms of Twitter and 20 Declan McCullagh, “Google yanks anti-church sites,” Wired, March 31, 2002, https://www.wired.com/2002/03/google-yanks-anti-church-sites/. 21 New Zealand Copyright Act 1994, Part 3, “Acts permitted in relation to copyright works.” New Zealand copyright law prescribes “Fair Dealing” exceptions that are included in order to enable (to a limited extent) the use of copyrighted materials without permission for the purposes of criticism or review, reporting current events, research or private study, or educational purposes. 10 Facebook. The campaign was a success and Section 92A was first delayed from coming into effect, then re-written and finally replaced completely. Fig 2 The CFF Internet Blackout campaign demonstration outside Parliament. I celebrated the success of the campaign, but my relief that we had won was mitigated by my sense that this experience was taking me a step in the wrong direction as an artist— that it was a diversion from my vocation. By shifting into a lobbying role to implement change, rather than making art as a critical response to my conditions, I felt like I was giving up my art practice in order to defend my ability to practice my art. I wondered if there was a way in which my art practice could contribute to this kind of debate rather than being sidelined by it. A subsequent project, Whisper Down The Lane (2012), built on my newly acquired Copyright knowledge and tested the possibilities and limits of copying using emerging technologies in an art context—an open source 3D printer, the RepRap, and new consumer-grade digital modelling software. 22 In doing so, it questioned the boundaries of authorship and originality, and took control away from the artist, the collector and the gallery, and placed it in the hands of the user. In 2013 I secured a public art commission with public art group Letting Space and international advertising firm JWT (John Walter Thompson) for the firm’s office space of in Auckland. 23 My accepted proposal had specified an interest in the Southern Cross Cable’s landing points in the Auckland region, and this opportunity enabled me to begin my investigations. The resulting project, Te-Ika-a-Akoranga (further discussed in Chapter 22 Bronwyn Holloway-Smith, Whisper Down The Lane (2012), accessed July 4, 2018, http://bronwyn.co.nz/projects/whisper-down-the-lane/. 23 Letting Space is an initiative undertaken by Wellington curatorial duo Mark Amery and Sophie Jerram. 11 3.2), was a project to restore, digitise, and revive the rediscovered mural Te Ika-a-Maui (discussed in Chapter 2.1). Through this process, the mural became a poignant symbol of the dramatic shifts that had taken place since its commissioning, in both New Zealand’s international communications infrastructure and in terms of concepts of New Zealand national identity. It also demonstrated that further research was needed in this area. 1.2 The Southern Cross Cable Network The trouble with an invisible system is that it might be assumed to be out of reach and beyond public influence. As Nicole Starosielski notes, “the reasoning goes, if the public doesn’t know about the importance of undersea cables, they will not think to contest or disrupt them.”24 In fact, despite the popular perception that the internet is invisible it operates via landing stations and physical fibre-optic cables buried under the ground and draped across the ocean floor. Rather than being ephemeral it is quite tangible: cables travel through physical geographic sites and distinct jurisdictions and are built and controlled by human hands. For seventeen years New Zealand has relied on one such system to provide 98% of its international internet connectivity, often on a daily basis: The Southern Cross Cable Network.25 The SX is a submarine fibre-optic cable system that came online in November 2000. It is approximately the diameter of a garden hose and rests on the ocean floor in a figure- eight path that connects New Zealand with the US, Fiji and Australia. 26 This reliance on the SX is amplified in New Zealand, an economically developed country that is marked by its geographic isolation and its dependency on foreign economies. The envisioned consequences brought about by the potential loss of this cable illustrates its significance to New Zealand’s social, political and economic systems. As one major New Zealand internet agency, InternetNZ, articulated: “If Southern Cross were to be disrupted […] it would jeopardize the nation's functioning, especially as most internet content originates 24 Nicole Starosielski, The Undersea Network (Durham: Duke University Press, 2015), 4. 25 Statistics from 2016 found that 94% of New Zealanders check the internet daily and a third are constantly connected, placing New Zealand’s internet engagement per capita alongside other highly connected populations, including Australia, the U.S., Canada and the UK. In a nation of 4.7 million people, this equates to roughly 4.4 million people engaging with the internet on a daily basis. “Online personal safety a top priority for Kiwis,” InternetNZ, October 26, 2016, https://internetnz.nz/news/online-personal-safety-top-priority-kiwis. 26 From Takapuna Beach on Auckland’s North Shore it travels along the floor of the Pacific Ocean to Spencer Beach (Hawai'i), Morro Bay (California), Nedonna Beach (Oregon), Kahe Point in (Hawai’i), Lauthala Bay (Viti Levu), Collaroy Beach (New South Wales), Clovelly Beach (New South Wales), and Muriwai Beach to the west of Auckland. It is more than 30,000km long. 12 offshore and users' access to basic services is dependent on international links.”27 The risk of such a loss would be twofold: there would be an economic cost due to lost traffic and the need for the cable’s repair, and the country would suffer a blow to its reputation and could lose its ability to attract business that relied on this form of communication. Many New Zealand sectors depend on this undersea cable network in order to operate, including banking, exports, tourism, and any industry reliant upon cloud functionality (including most large email services which are used across the government, education and business sectors). The creative sector is also a key field in this regard, perhaps most notably in relation to film.28 Fig 3 The official Southern Cross Cable Network map. But the severing of cables is a relatively rare occurrence and one that cable companies are actively prepared for with cable repair ships that remain on standby should a disruption occur. While earlier cables were susceptible to a range of potential disruptions, modern-day cables have been designed to withstand many of these threats. Globally, 27 Starosielski, The Undersea Network, 57. 28 The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Avatar and The Hobbit trilogy all depended heavily on this high-capacity digital exchange in order to enable effective collaboration with production companies in the United States. As Nicole Starosielski notes: “the collaborations on Avatar between Weta Digital in New Zealand and Industrial Light & Magic in California would not have be possible without the Southern Cross Cable Network. As a result, Weta Digital has a major stake in the smooth operation of Southern Cross and generates a sizeable stream of traffic that helps to sustain their network.” “Underwater Flow,” Flow 15, no. 1, (October 16, 2011), http://flowtv.org/2011/10/underwaterflow/#identifier_0_11512. . 13 natural events and accidental damage remain the primary threats to submarine cables.29 An early work I made as part of this research, Breaks and Faults (2015), was a response to this. Fig 4 Left: an exhibit from the Telegraph Museum Porthcurno showing examples of cable breaks and faults; Right: Breaks and Faults (2015), a preliminary work I made during this study. Terrorism can also be seen as a threat to internet cables, however statistically this is much less likely. Fibre optic cables systems also include electricity cables to power repeaters, making sabotage a dangerous activity to attempt. As Chang notes: “The idea that saboteurs in wetsuits would dive […] and cut a fibre optic cable, though not impossible, is highly unlikely, if only because doing so would be a good way to wind up dead. "These cables are carrying thousands of volts of power," Mark Simpson, CEO of SEACOM, told Wired […] Attempting to cut such a line could easily kill you, he said, making sabotage "pretty unusual and pretty dangerous." 30 The vulnerability of New Zealand’s internet connection has been mitigated in recent years, with the Tasman Global Access cable coming online in March 2017, and two further cables being developed: the ‘Hawaiki’ cable and Southern Cross’s follow-up cable ‘Next’. However, an increase in connectivity does not preclude total disconnection. As seen in Taiwan in 2006, major natural disasters have been known to disrupt several cables at 29 Tom Pullar-Strecker, “Kaikoura could get phone, internet back in days after quake cuts cable,” Stuff, November 15, 2016, https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/industries/86463492/options-being-assessed-for-restoring-phone- services-to-kaikoura. A domestic New Zealand sub-sea cable was damaged following the 2016 Kaikoura Earthquake. 30 Alexandra Chang, “Undersea cables are actually more vulnerable than you might think,” Wired, April 3, 2013, http://www.wired.co.uk/article/vulnerable-undersea-cables. 14 once. 31 This threat may increase in future years: scientists have warned that there could be a global increase in severe earthquakes from 2018 onwards, and global warming is also predicted to cause an increase in severe storms. 32 Another preliminary artwork, The Earthquake (Fig 5), responded to this issue. Fig 5 Developmental artwork: The Earthquake. While the reliance on the SX has been seen by some industry insiders as a source of potential national vulnerability, the obscuring of internet infrastructure in the public eye has rendered the majority of New Zealanders largely unaware of the risks of their continued investment in offshore internet services. If a system is not understood, those who use it are unable to make informed decisions about how they engage with it and, in a democratic nation, how it is regulated. Several factors have led to the erroneous perception that the internet is invisible. Firstly, the popular use of misleading terminology (i.e. ‘the cloud’, and ‘cyberspace’)33 imply that the internet primarily operates as an intangible, atmospheric medium, often assumed to be satellite technology.34 Secondly, as Starosielski finds, popular media narratives 31 Winston Qiu, “Submarine Cables Cut after Taiwan Earthquake in Dec 2006,” Submarine Cable Networks, March 9, 2011, https://www.submarinenetworks.com/news/cables-cut-after-taiwan-earthquake-2006. Eight cables were damaged by an earthquake in Taiwan in 2006. 32 Robin McKie, “Upsurge in big earthquakes predicted for 2018 as Earth rotation slows,” The Guardian, November 18, 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/nov/18/2018-set-to-be-year-of-big-earthquakes. 33 In addition, the Te Reo Māori term for the internet is “ipurangi,”, which translates as “a container for the sky.”. 34 Satellites do carry some internet connectivity, but this is minor in comparison to cables. 15 primarily focus on connection narratives and disruption narratives, both of which tend to be highly technical and therefore fail to capture the public imagination. 35 Thirdly, the sites of New Zealand’s international internet infrastructure are purposely designed to be inconspicuous, which limits public visual understanding of the physical manner in which New Zealand’s internet operates.36 This obfuscation of internet infrastructure enables the continued public perception that New Zealand’s internet is outside of jurisdictional control, despite this is not being entirely the case. Who holds power in a system that promotes itself as decentralised and invisible? In 2015 artist James Bridle created a browser plug-in called Citizen-Ex which, when installed, tracked and made visible the geographic territories its users travelled to when they browsed to different websites. Over time the programme built up data about its user’s browsing habits, displaying it in a pie chart that depicted its subject’s “algorithmic citizenship” based on how much time one spent, virtually, in different jurisdictions. Of his own digital citizenship, the UK-based Bridle stated that, “based on a few days of internet surfing, I turned out to be 89.5 percent American, 3.2 percent Irish and 1.9 percent French plus 18 other nationalities, even though I have a Japanese passport, and grew up in the UK.” He elaborated that, “Most of the anglophone internet is in America […] Quite a few sites that you wouldn't necessarily expect are hosted on infrastructures based out in the US because the web is not as distributive as we'd like to think." 37 Considering the example posed by Citizen-Ex, what might New Zealand’s Digital Citizenship profile look like? If the nation’s browsing habits are anything to go by, it seems that New Zealanders may be increasingly engaging with expressions of cultural values that do not originate from the cultures that we live in physical proximity to—cultures governed by values from societies other than ours. Statistics revealed by Nielsen in 2017 showed that four of the five most popular sites visited by New Zealanders were based in the US.38 Further, SimilarWeb’s figures from April 2018 show that US websites accounted 35 Starosielski, The Undersea Network, 66-68. Connection narratives relate to the design and technological development of an undersea cable while disruption narratives describe an unexpected disconnection of the cable and detail the threats not only to transmission but also to a broader cultural order. 36 Spark NZ, email to author, April 4, 2017. 37 Emiko Jozuka, “Find Out Your 'Algorithmic Citizenship' Based on the Websites You Visit,”, Vice: Motherboard, May 30, 2015, https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/pga4pb/find-out-your-algorithmic-citizenship-based- on-the-websites-you-visit-1. 38 “Nielsen online rankings reveal New Zealand's biggest websites—UPDATED,” StopPressNZ, May 19, 2017, http://stoppress.co.nz/news/most-popular-sites-in-april. The most popular websites were Google, Facebook, 16 for seven of the ten top websites in New Zealand.39 Having installed the plugin on my own browser and run it for some months, my algorithmic citizenship was 75.6 percent US, 13.82 percent New Zealand, and 8.43 percent Irish. Are most New Zealanders actually primarily US Digital Citizens? What does this mean for New Zealand national identity? Fig 6 Screenshot of the author’s Citizen Ex Algorithmic Citizenship. 1.3 Inventing the nation While definitions of ‘nation’ remain somewhat elusive, the contemporary understanding of a nation is broadly understood as a group of people connected in an ongoing manner by distinct and unifying characteristics. 40 This might be due to genealogic factors, theologic factors, or geographic factors. 41 Of all three, the latter application is most commonly used in the present day. This form of the nation relates to communities living MSN/Outlook/Bing/Skype, and YouTube. The fifth was Stuff.co.nz which, despite being Australian-owned, publishes New Zealand-focussed news stories. 39 “Top sites ranking for all categories in New Zealand,” SimilarWeb, last updated May 01, 2018, https://www.similarweb.com/top-websites/new-zealand. Google ranked first and second (.com & .co.nz) followed by YouTube, Facebook, TradeMe, Stuff, Instagram, Wikipedia, NZHerald, and Reddit. 40 The word ‘nation’ derives from the Latin ‘natio’ literally meaning ‘birth,’ however, despite its etymological origin, the tie between nationality and birth is no longer so clear cut, with the contemporary understanding of nation increasingly seen as a natural companion of the ‘state’. Many theorists have commented that a consistent definition of the nation remains elusive, including Bagehot who observed that: “We know what it is when you do not ask us, but we cannot very quickly explain or define it.” E. J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780 : Programme, Myth, Reality (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 1. Hugh Seton-Watson similarly lamented, “I am driven to the conclusion that no ‘scientific definition’ of the nation can be devised; yet the phenomenon has existed and exists.” Hugh Seton-Watson, Nations and States: An Enquiry into the Origins of Nations and the Politics of Nationalism (London: Methuen, 1977), 5. Hobsbawm finds that the criteria for defining a nation are “fuzzy, shifting and ambiguous” which makes them “unusually convenient for propagandist and programmatic, as distinct from descriptive, purposes.” Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism, 6. 41 An example of genealogic nationalism is the Canadian “first nations.”. In a New Zealand/Aotearoa context, consideration has been given to the use of this term with specific reference to the iwi collectively referred to as ‘Māori’. See Rika-Heke, “Tribes or Nations?” 170–181. Examples of theologic nationalism may include members of the Jewish faith, the Catholic Church, or—by way of a more extreme example—the Islamic State. The implication here is that specific rules may be decreed by (religious) leadership that members are expected to prioritise over their specific jurisdictional laws (i.e. the Caliphate). 17 within a geographically-defined territory, and governed by a sovereign body: the state. Organisations such as the United Nations speak directly to this interpretation. For the purposes of this study, the term ‘nation’ and its derivatives will principally refer to this geographical definition. In addition to its defined borders, the geographic nation is constructed through the application and aestheticisation of national ideals through an established sovereign government and the development and maintenance of a ‘national identity’ based on expressions of shared cultural values.42 New Zealand is a geographically-isolated island group, and its geographic boundaries are therefore well defined. But what of the application and aestheticisation of its national ideals? It has an established government (although its sovereignty has lately been questioned), but does it have a ‘national identity’ and has this been developed and maintained? 43 In order to begin answering this question, we might ask “what are expressions of shared cultural values?”, and secondly, “have these shared cultural values been developed and maintained?” While David Novitz has labelled ‘culture’ a tricky thing to pin down, W. H. Walsh outlined a ‘colligatory’ concept of culture as a means of grouping individuals in a collective manner by way of shared characteristics, whether they be actions, interactions, values, beliefs, knowledge, etc.44 Here, the identification of shared characteristics relies on the discovery of distinctive traits, which might be positioned as different to those of an ‘other’. In the context of a search for national culture, the ‘other’ is inevitably a political-geographic group with their own identifiable traits against which the self-identifying group in 42 This definition has been extrapolated from Ernest Gellner’s typology of nationalisms in which he concluded that three factors alone really matter in the construction of a nation: power, education, and shared culture. Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, (New York: Cornell University Press, 1983), 97. 43 Although this study is not seeking to undertake critical analysis into New Zealand’s status as a sovereign nation it is noted that there has been some recent criticism in this area, calling into question whether New Zealand’s sovereignty is at risk. This discussion has garnered particular prominence in response to New Zealand’s participation in the Trans Pacific Partnership Agreement (TPPA) and it’s successor, the Comprehensive and Progressive Trans Pacific Partnership Agreement (CPTPP), both of which contained Investor State Dispute Settlements. Aspects of this trade agreement related to the governance of the internet in New Zealand, particularly the intellectual property chapter. For further insight into this topic, see Kelsey and Walker, Hidden agendas. 44 “the central problem [. . .] is knowing what exactly politicians, writers and the rest are striving after when they search for a peculiarly New Zealand culture. The trouble, of course, is that the concept ‘culture’ is murky, and talk of cultural identity doubly so.” David Novitz, “On Culture and Cultural Identity,” in Culture and Identity in New Zealand, eds. Novitz and Willmott (Wellington: GP Books, 1989), 278. See also W. H. Walsh, “Colligatory Concepts in History,” in The Philosophy of History, ed. Patrick Gardiner, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974), 127–144. 18 question can react. As Novitz elaborates, these traits might be appealed to “in order to enlist loyalties, to summon a national pride, to articulate grievances, to alter our sense of self, to re-think our role within the group, and to demand the sort of action which will alter or strengthen the fabric of the society [. . .] the search for cultural distinctiveness and identity is, in the broadest sense, a political, but not a scientific quest.”45 The search for national culture, then, is clearly a political quest positioned in proximity to the geographic ‘other’ that is significantly influenced by expressions of shared cultural values. But what are ‘expressions’? Simply put, an expression is an action that communicates an idea or feeling.46 Communication is the act of sending and receiving—encoding and decoding—an idea or feeling between one party (whether an individual or group) and another. In essence, communication involves methods of transmitting and receiving information—acts of connection. Today, the internet is the primary form of communication in New Zealand, but its origins can be traced back to the telegraph, radio, telephone, and satellite. Gradually technologies emerged that targeted increasingly larger audiences via mass media. Each of these developments has led to shifts in cultural, political and economic systems, and by extension, systems of power. An expression occurs when one party has an idea or feeling, and communicates this idea or feeling through an action transmitted to another party. This use of action evokes the territory of art explaining why, as Lister and Leonard have rightly pointed out, art has played a role in asserting and questioning notions of national identity.47 But how can we identify cultural values that are shared on the scale of the New Zealand geographic nation? To what extent do they need to be ‘shared’? Cultural values shared by half a dozen people cannot qualify as representational of the entire population. In a democratic sense, and in consideration of the connection between the ‘nation’ and the ‘state’, might the expressions of these cultural values only qualify as ‘shared’ if they represent the ideas or feelings of a majority of the population—a quantitative measure? No. Popularity does not, and should not, equate with shared cultural values. A system that 45 Novitz, “On Culture,”, 286. 46 This action might manifest in creative or destructive processes, both of which have been employed in art practice. See, for example, Gustav Metzger’s “Auto-destructive art.”. 47 Robert Leonard and Aaron Lister, “First, a word from the curators,” in Leonard, Lister, and Lawson eds., This Is New Zealand (Wellington: City Gallery Wellington, 2018), 5–6. 19 seeks to gain admissible evidence of the personal opinions of multiple individuals cannot function without a disturbing level of surveillance that breaches the human right to privacy (Article 12).48 Further, a system that holds perceived popularity aloft over other measures of cultural value risks undermining the critical human right to freedom of expression. It is vital to any healthy democracy to enable the creation of new cultural expressions that explore contentious issues, where it might be socially or politically dangerous for members of the population to make their solidarity known. Quantitative measures (audience numbers, hits, likes, followers, views) are measures of potentially passive consumption of cultural expressions (even by ‘bots’) that by no means equates with the validation of an expression as truly representative of the majority opinion of a geographic nation. When measured in this manner, it is easy to see that any expression claiming to be a quantitative ‘shared cultural value’ is impossible to prove. But this does not automatically disprove the ‘nation’ as a myth. Benedict Anderson outlined his theory of the ‘imagined community’ in 1983, stating that the nation is “an imagined political community—and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign”.49 He further elaborates that “all communities larger than primordial villages of face-to-face contact (and perhaps even these) are imagined. Communities are to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined.”50 Ernest Gellner has also signalled this definition: “Nationalism is not the awakening of nations to self-consciousness: it invents nations where they do not exist.”51 The notion of something being invented, where it did not previously exist, is both a romantic one and a colonial one. To complicate this understanding of the term we may turn to Francis Pound who, in his consideration of New Zealand’s mid-century nation building era, observed it being applied with two distinct meanings: “the old meaning, which was to discover, to find something which was already there before you; and today’s 48 “The universal declaration of human rights 10 December 1948,” Wikipedia, uploaded 7 November, 2017, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universal_Declaration_of_Human_Rights#/media/File:The_universal_declaration _of_human_rights_10_December_1948.jpg. The specific wording of this article is: “No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference of attacks.” 49 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. and extended ed. (London; New York: Verso, 1991), 6–7. He carries on to clarify that his community is ‘limited’ by finite, elastic boundaries. 50 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 6. 51 Gellner, Nations, 169. Emphasis added. 20 meaning, which is to create something new, or even to concoct it, to make up a fictitious story.”52 If New Zealand, as a nation, is an imagined political community by whom has it been discovered or invented? E. J. Hobsbawm found that “the ‘national idea’ as formulated by its official champions, did not necessarily coincide with the actual self-identification of the people concerned.”53 National identity, then, is formulated by its official champions (state, or otherwise) and may be conferred upon (or taken away from) its subjects regardless (or because) of the factors with which they personally identify. Anderson describes the character of official nationalism as being “an anticipatory strategy adopted by dominant groups which are threatened with marginalization or exclusion from an emerging nationally-imagined community.”54 Here, the development/promotion of official nationalism is used as a desperate measure to regain control over subjects that are veering away from the status- quo. How? Because national identity appeals to the emotions, and allegiance is essentially an emotional attachment. This is illustrated in the antonyms of allegiance: apathy, disobedience, treachery—all of which can be seen as threats to established power. Shared cultural values, then, are not necessarily representative of the ideas or feelings of a majority of the population, but may be mass-communicated ideas or feelings that those in power wish to see reflected in their subjects—as a means of grouping them for political purposes. Known by another name, the mass communication of certain political ideas and feelings by established power structures is simply ‘propaganda’ (or perhaps ‘fake news’ to use a recent phrase). Mass media is one of the primary platforms over which concepts of national identity have historically been established, whether through the print media, radio, film, or television. 55 Those in control of these platforms hold the power to select which information/belief systems/values/traditions are promoted (or not) and the manner in which these are 52 Francis Pound, The Invention of New Zealand: Art and National Identity, 1930–1970 (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2009), xix. 53 Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism, 134. 54 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 101. 55 Much might also be said about the impact of migration on shifts in national identity, but this is outside the scope of this study. 21 framed and interpreted. Hence, mass media plays a key role in shaping public perceptions on a variety of important issues. Political discourse has long been mediated by electronic machines and, as John Corner argues, there has long been a power relationship involving elites and the media.56 As Umberto Eco noted in his 1967 essay Towards a Semiological Guerilla Warfare: Not long ago, if you wanted to seize political power in a country, you had merely to control the army and the police. Today it is only in the most backward countries that fascist generals, in carrying out a coup d'etat, still use tanks. If a country has reached a high level of industrialization the whole scene changes. [. . .] Today a country belongs to the person who controls communications.57 If this is indeed the case, those who control New Zealand’s current communications channels also control New Zealand national identity. This is, of course, a simplistic assumption after all it is never possible to control independent thought, and those who seek to hold power to account continue to be given voice in the New Zealand popular media. However, due to the lack of accountability and transparency on the internet and the prevalence of closed-source platforms (as opposed to transparent open-source ones), those with power may take measures to promote or censor certain ideas and feelings that are favourable or unfavourable to their agendas, and to discourage methods through which the public might establish their own critical perspectives.58 The technical community continue to maintain primarily private governance of the internet, resisting public accountability, raising the possibility that New Zealanders could be censored without realising it.59 Due to the individualism of the internet experience (amplified by 56 John Corner, Theorising Media: Power, Form and Subjectivity (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011), 21–22. 57 Umberto Eco, Travels in hyperreality: essays, trans. William Weaver (San Diego; New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1986), 135. 58 Knowledge Commons Brasil, “What’s wrong with current internet governance?: Digital colonialism & the Internet as a tool of cultural hegemony,” accessed June 25, 2018, http://www.knowledgecommons.in/brasil/en/whats- wrong-with-current-internet-governance/digital-colonialism-the-internet-as-a-tool-of-cultural-hegemony/. 59 Mario Trujillo, “Civil liberties group: Facebook ‘complicit in political censorship’,” The Hill, November 11, 2014, http://thehill.com/policy/technology/223626-group-asks-facebook-for-more-info-on-censorship-requests. This lack of public accountability has even extended to several recently-developed multilateral trade agreements that New Zealand has been party to, including the Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement (ACTA) and the Comprehensive and Progressive Trans Pacific Partnership Agreement (CPTPPA). Although these included clauses relating to the internet input on the text of these treaties was sought from private stakeholders, but not from the general public. 22 recommendation algorithms, shadow bans, and social bubbles), and the waning of other communications platforms, the exercising of any such control would be very difficult to detect. 1.4 Control of the internet Not so long ago the internet served as the main symbol and medium of globalization. Today, one is regularly reminded that the corporations and organizations that operate the internet have real, physical, off-line addresses in territories that are controlled by certain states. As such, they are increasingly used as instruments of surveillance, propaganda, and fake news. Instead of constituting a virtual space beyond state borders, the internet is increasingly understood as a scene of struggle for interstate information wars. 60 As a system, the internet is distinctly hierarchical operating over three dimensions: (1) the structural dimension (how the system is configured); (2) the representational dimension (the mediated audio-visual experience); and (3) the interactive dimension (the act of participating in the system).61 Each of these dimensions is populated by actors possessing differing levels of power in the construction and maintenance of the internet. Those with power in the structural dimension are able to change how, and under what rules, data is sent, received, and routed. Two organisations oversee this dimension: the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN), who manage the internet name spaces, and the Internet Engineering Task Force (IETF), who manage the technical protocols underpinning the network. As both organisations are based in the US, they operate under the oversight of the US Government.62 The New Zealand government signed each of these treaties before the final text was released publicly (let alone responded to). 60 Boris Groys, “Towards a new Universalism.” e-flux Journal, no. 86 (November 2017), https://www.e- flux.com/journal/86/162402/towards-a-new-universalism/. 61 Peter Dahlgren, “The Internet, Public Spheres, and Political Communication: Dispersion and Deliberation,” Political Communication 22, no. 2 (April 2005): 147–62. https://doi.org/10.1080/10584600590933160. 62 Purkayastha, Prabir and Rishab Bailey, "U.S. Control of the Internet: Problems Facing the Movement to International Governance," Monthly Review, July 1, 2014, https://monthlyreview.org/2014/07/01/u-s-control-of- the-internet/. Purkayastha and Bailey also note a lack of diversity in these organisations. https://monthlyreview.org/2014/07/01/u-s-control-of-the-internet/ https://monthlyreview.org/2014/07/01/u-s-control-of-the-internet/ 23 A second layer in this dimension is populated by network operators and Internet Service Providers, who control the cables and other infrastructure over which internet traffic travels. This is the layer at which the SX is located. The SX is operated by a Bermuda- based company, Southern Cross Cables Ltd., which is led by a Chief Executive primarily based in Bermuda. This is a strategy common to the neoliberal era whereby commercial endeavours obscure their head office (i.e. tax base) by dispersing their locations and moving to more attractive offshore sites that reduce the overhead costs of labour and tax, contributing to greater profits. Southern Cross Cables Ltd. is, in turn, owned by three telecommunications companies: Spark New Zealand (formerly Telecom New Zealand), Singtel and Verizon Business.63 With a 50.01% share, Spark New Zealand (Spark NZ) are the majority shareholders of Southern Cross Cables Ltd. and manage the cable within New Zealand jurisdiction. Spark NZ itself is a publicly-traded company, or ‘public enterprise’, listed on the New Zealand, Australian and New York stock exchanges. Those with power in the representational dimension might be grouped into those who control the internet browsers, and those who control the websites that are accessed over these browsers.64 The major browsers, including Google Chrome, Safari, and Firefox, are all owned by organisations based in California, US, however Firefox is distinct amongst this set as the only Open Source (and therefore publicly transparent) browser. The majority of the most popular sites accessed by New Zealanders are organisations registered under US jurisdiction.65 The registration of these companies in the US does not imply that they hold any particular ethical position, but simply that they are operating under a democratic system within which New Zealand constituents have no agency or representation, and that the business operating decisions they make are unlikely to take New Zealand’s particular context into account. Those with power in the interactive dimension are privileged by good social skills, good (English) language and typing/coding skills, able-bodied-ness, and better access whether 63 These shares are split approximately: Spark NZ (50%), Singtel (40%) and Verizon Business (10%). 64 These actors may also be Internet Service Providers themselves. 65 “Nielsen online rankings reveal New Zealand's biggest websites—UPDATED”. Of the top ten sites included in these rankings, Google (1) and YouTube (4) are US sites owned by multinational conglomerate Alphabet Inc; Facebook (2) is a US site owned by publicly traded company Facebook; MSN/Outlook/Bing/Skype (3) and Microsoft (6) are owned by US multinational the Microsoft Corporation; Stuff.co.nz (5) is owned by the Australian company Fairfax Media Ltd.; nzherald.co.nz (7) is a NZ site owned by a private business New Zealand Media and Entertainment (NZME); TradeMe (9) is a NZ site that is publicly listed; and Wikipedia (10) is a US site owned by the non-profit Wikimedia Foundation. The New Zealand Government (8) is the only public sector site in the top ten. 24 through time, speed, or devices (a form of privilege referred to as the “Digital Divide”). This often results in larger social media followings, which equates with greater reach. Market-driven structures disadvantage those who are not enabled with these privileges, enhancing social inequality. The internet was founded on the principles of the neoliberal theory of the “Free Flow doctrine”, which has been described as “not a neutral idea, but a way in which an enterprise with many resources at its disposal has greater opportunities than weaker brethren to make its own hegemony accepted.”66 As Danny Butt observes: The effective freedom for information to flow relies on financial and technical resources that are systematically denied to groups and regions that do not possess them. [. . .] Much as in other forms of colonial infrastructure, the need for stable operation and development of “neutral” infrastructure would be used to justify the continuing exclusion of those outside the small group participating in its arrangements.67 Without public accountability and oversight,68 those who have access to this power might abuse it and use it for their own political advantage69 or social control.70 The extent of US state interference in the internet has drawn criticism from other parts of the globe, with suggestions that it is increasingly becoming a tool of digital colonialism or, more specifically, an extension of the global colonisation of US-led neoliberal ideologies.71 66 Finland’s president, Urho Kekkonen quoted in Hervert I. Schiller, “Communication and cultural domination,” International Journal Of Politics 5, no. 4 (Winter 1975/1976). 67 Danny Butt, “FCJ-198 New International Information Order (NIIO) Revisited: Global Algorithmic Governance and Neocolonialism.” The Fibreculture Journal, issue 27 (October 2015). http://twentyseven.fibreculturejournal.org/2016/03/08/fcj-198-new-international-information-order-niio- revisited-global-algorithmic-governance-and-neocolonialism/. 68 The New International Information Order of the 1970s was a response to threats of monopolisation and neocolonial globalisation in the international communications industries, which gained traction at UNESCO. In his revising this proposal, Butt highlights the lack of the principles of democratization, decolonization, demonopolization, and development in the way the internet is globally structured and controlled today. Butt, “FCJ- 198 New International Information Order (NIIO) Revisited.” 69 Edward Snowden’s NSA leaks illustrates some situations where this has indeed been the case, including in New Zealand. See The Speargun Conspiracy in Chapter 4.0. 70 “China invents the digital totalitarian state,” The Economist, December 17, 2016, https://www.economist.com/news/briefing/21711902-worrying-implications-its-social-credit-project-china- invents-digital-totalitarian. China’s proposed “Internet Plus” social-credit system is a case in point. 71 Kuehn, The Post-Snowden Era. 25 The current issue of net neutrality is a prime example of the continued progression of this colonisation of the internet that may lead to an “Internet Elite”—a set of dominant internet platforms that block equal access and create a class system of internet users.72 The public controversy over Facebook’s recent involvement in the Cambridge Analytica scandal, and the establishment of the European General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) on 25 May 2018 signal that there is potential for this paradigm to shift in favour of public rights, however the internet is still a long way from being a non-hierarchical platform.73 The level to which this power might be abused was made abundantly clear in June 2013, when Edward Snowden made his first revelations to the world, exposing a government- led system of mass surveillance that eclipsed anything that had previously been attempted in history. Spearheaded by the US government spy agency, the National Security Agency (NSA), the programme involved a collective of western nations known as the “Five Eyes” including (along with the US) Australia, Canada, the United Kingdom and New Zealand. The New Zealand agency responsible for this programme was the GCSB. The surveillance programme—titled ‘PRISM’—operated with a ‘catch all’ approach, which compromised every layer of the internet.74 The data of all internet users was being captured and stored in the possibility that it might become useful intelligence in the face of future security threats. The erosion of privacy was a major concern expressed by critics, and one that had been eerily foreshadowed by Marshall McLuhan in 1964: information devices for universal, tyrannical womb-to-tomb surveillance are causing a very serious dilemma between our claim to privacy and the community’s need to know. The older, traditional ideas of private, isolated 72 Carmen Scurato, “Who will be hit hardest by net neutrality? Marginalised America,” The Guardian, December 18, 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/dec/18/net-neutrality-marginalised-america-open- internet-fcc. 73 Although the GDPR relates to the jurisdiction of the European Union, any businesses doing business within this area must comply. As most web services are accessible within Europe, the reach is broad and companies throughout the world are complying. Due to their economic power, the EU have managed to pass a local law that is global in its reach, however, as New Zealand doesn’t have a comparable law, its resident citizens are not afforded the same level of privacy. 74 Purkayastha and Bailey, "U.S. Control of the Internet." 26 thoughts and actions—the patterns of mechanistic technologies—are very seriously threatened by new methods of instantaneous electric information retrieval, by the electrically computerised dossier bank—that one big gossip column that is unforgiving, unforgetful and from which there is no redemption, no erasure of early “mistakes.”75 Later, Snowden presented NSA slides about "Project Speargun" described as being “underway” in March 2012. He alleged that New Zealanders were subject to mass internet surveillance under the GCSB with the full knowledge of the then-Prime Minister John Key (leader of the National Party).76 The project’s first phase entailed the covert installation of cable access equipment that would enable access to the SX. In early 2013 another NSA document noted that "phase one" was complete. Phase two was said to entail the installation of metadata probes on the SX, with a first metadata probe scheduled for mid- 2013. Further notes specified that the probe could only take place after the passage of legislation which would expand the powers of the GCSB, the GCSB Amendment Bill, which indeed passed into law in 2013.77 Two NSA facilities were said to be in New Zealand—one in Auckland and another “in the north of the country”. In response to Snowden’s claims, Prime Minister John Key revealed details about “Project Cortex”, said to be a cyber-defence system. The GCSB denied the project involved tapping into the SX, as did Anthony Briscoe, CEO of the SX Network. Questions about whether the system might involve accessing the networks of individual internet providers were, however, not dismissed.78 75 McLuhan, Fiore, and Agel, The Medium is the Massage, 12. The “Right to be forgotten” is a concept that has been put into practice in the European Union and Argentina. Its application is, however, limited to these jurisdictions, and is not applicable to companies operating outside the jurisdictions. There is no global framework to allow individuals control over their online image. “Right to be forgotten,” Wikipedia, accessed July 3, 2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_be_forgotten. 76 On 15 September 2014 as part of an event at the Auckland Town Hall titled “Moment of Truth.”. 77 It was repealed in September 2017 and replaced with the Intelligence and Security Act 2017, which mitigated some of the issues that had been raised by the previous legislation but not all, with no clear limits on the ability for the New Zealand Government to undertake mass collection or mass surveillance. Ben Creet, “The Intelligence and Security Act 2017,” InternetNZ, accessed 27 June, 2018, https://internetnz.nz/blog/intelligence-and-security-act- 2017. And Thomas Beagle, “Submission: NZ Intelligence & Security Bill 2016,” New Zealand Council for Civil Liberties, September 7, 2016, https://nzccl.org.nz/content/submission-nz-intelligence-security-bill-2016. 78 Tom Pullar-Strecker, “NZ's main communications cable 'not tapped',” Waikato Times, September 17, 2014, 7. 27 Fig 7 GCSB slide leaked by Snowden showing “Project SPEARGUN underway”. The Five Eyes revelations highlighted the power and control held over the internet by a set of distinct nation states. Despite being perceived as a decentralised, post-national network, “shapeless, faceless, and everything and nothing at the same time”,79 here the internet was defined by the complex boundaries of nation states, however in reality one nation state (the US) possessed far more power than the others. In this scenario, New Zealand became subservient to a larger nation—the US, in effect creating a form of neocolonialism. As a parent of three young children, I can attest first hand to the benefits of the internet in enabling individuals to feel less isolated. Perhaps this is why it has been so popular in New Zealand, an island nation marked by its geographical distance. However, in contrast to these benefits, Snowden’s revelations of mass-surveillance made me feel both vulnerable and concerned for the future world my children would inherit. As Kathleen Kuehn has argued, the goal of such a system of surveillance “is to target ‘foreigners’ communicating usable intelligence, but many critics argue that the sheer volume of captured data is a ‘pool of potential targets so broad that it encompasses journalists, 79 Aranda, Kuan Wood and Vidokle, “Introduction,” 5. 28 academic researchers, corporations, aid workers, business persons, and others who are not suspected of any wrongdoing.’”80 I felt challenged to accept the state-surveillance as a necessary evil: to be one of the people “willing to accept the potential infringement on privacy and civil liberties as a necessary tradeoff for the promise of security”.81 However, as an individual who was known to the New Zealand government (and even the US government),82 my perception of the internet shifted and I found myself oscillating between a sense of great paranoia at having being surveilled as a ‘known dissident’, and adopting a defiant ‘onwards and upwards’ stance. I found myself increasingly self-censoring my online behaviour—an engagement strategy that has persisted. Kuehn confirms that I wasn’t alone: “A 2014 study by PEN American Centre found that journalists and writers from more than fifty countries reported an increase in self-censorship in fear of government surveillance since the Snowden revelations.”83 This level of self-censorship has a sobering resonance with Michel Foucault’s discussion of Bentham’s Panopticon.84 As it becomes increasingly prevalent in New Zealand, will it result in a trend away from critical thinking and holding power to account, and a movement in the direction of anti-intellectualism and conservative values? What impact would this attitude have on the cultural life of New Zealand and the ability for artists to operate? The root of this issue is one of transparency, openness, and public oversight. The invisibility of the internet enables it to function as a neo-colonial force via the hands of those who control it. If the internet is visible to the public, this might enable forms of resistance to emerge in response to these dominant forces, shifting control back towards 80 Kathleen Kuehn, The Post-Snowden Era: Mass Surveillance and Privacy in New Zealand, (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books Ltd., 2016), 51. 81 Kuehn, The Post-Snowden Era, 10. 82 The Creative Freedom Foundation were mentioned in a US government cable that reported on the events surrounding the redrafting of S92A. “New Zealand to redraft Section 92A of new copyright law,” Wikileaks, accessed June 25, 2018, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/09WELLINGTON88_a.html. 83 Kuehn, The Post-Snowden Era, 108. 84 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, (2nd Vintage Books ed. New York: Vintage Books, 1995).The Panopticon was a concept developed by the English philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham in 1745 where he described a new system of control that placed a hidden, powerful, observer at the centre of an institutional building (for example, a prison) leading to its inhabitants self-regulating their behaviour. The theory was influential, particularly on French philosopher Foucault who, in Discipline and Punish (originally published in 1975) used it as a metaphor for modern "disciplinary" societies and their pervasive inclination to observe and normalise. In 1993 Oscar Gandy Jr published “The Panoptic Sort: A political economy of personal information,” which discussed the coming impact on lack of privacy due to technological developments. 29 those who use it. What would be the effect of knowing, for certain, that our online behaviour wasn’t being monitored? The “invisible hand” is a term originally coined by the economist and philosopher Adam Smith in 1759 as a metaphor for the concept that acting in one’s self-interest could result in socially-beneficial results. It has been used in descriptions of free market capitalist and neoliberal economic theories, and as such has become a metaphor for these systems. Of particular relevance here, the term ‘invisible hand’ can be read as a metonym for the invisibility sought by internet infrastructure, and the invisibility of the typing hands coding the algorithms that shape the online experience. In contrast, the visible hand emphasises the materially tangible aspect of the internet and the presence of an embodied self. Hands become a recurring theme throughout The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour as a symbol of physical engagement, agency, action, individualism, and expression. Included in an exhibition about the construction of New Zealand’s national identity, these hands are being put to use, questioning the validity of assumptions around New Zealand national identity in an increasingly globalised world. 1.5 New Zealand national identity and communications systems As can be said of any global territory, contemporary New Zealand national identity is indebted to the past. Much has been written on the emergence of nationalist rhetoric in New Zealand, and the manner and aesthetics of its constructed nationalism. This study does not seek to compete with the work of renowned New Zealand historians such as Michael King, James Belich, Ranginui Walker, Dame Anne Salmond, Gordon H. Brown, Francis Pound, and Wystan Curnow, but rather to contextualise the artwork and illustrate the issues to which The Southern Cross Cable: A Tour is responding. Following the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840, the British departed their empirical home in vast numbers, voyaging over the oceans by boat. When the settlers stepped onto New Zealand shores they were (by way of migration) effectively importing their culture—their language, art, literature, music, fashion, food, history, political systems, religion, ideologies—their ideas. Similarly, cultural objects and ideas from New Zealand’s indigenous people, the Māori, were exchanged and taken back to Britain in the same boats in what would turn out to be a lop-sided cultural exchange. At this point in time, New Zealand (as a landmass) was a net importer of British culture, and the infrastructure supporting that cultural exchange comprised of the shipping channels. The postal system took several months to deliver items to-and-fro. This reinforced the feeling of distance experienced by settlers. 30 Mass media is one85 of the primary platforms over which concepts of national identity have historically been established, whether through the print media, radio, film, or television. In reviewing historic moments where various New Zealand nationalisms were at play it becomes apparent that, concurrently, major developments in communications technology were shifting the manner in which New Zealanders were engaging with each other, and the wider world. Commenting on a similar effect overseas, Anderson observed: There is also no doubt that improving trans-Atlantic communications, and the fact that the various Americas shared languages and cultures with their respective metropoles, meant a relatively rapid and easy transmission of the new economic and political doctrines being produced in Western Europe. [. . .] Nothing confirms this ‘cultural revolution’ more than the pervasive republicanism of the newly independent communities.86 The same might be said of New Zealand’s connection to the British Empire and the US: the importing of cultural values into New Zealand from abroad provided both an ‘other’ in response to which a concept of New Zealand national identity could be constructed, and intellectual discourse that shaped antipodean intellectual life. It was not until New Zealand’s first international telegraph cable was established in 1876 that communications began to speed up,87 however due to expense these networks were primarily used by government, business, and the newspaper industry. Echoing developments overseas, New Zealand’s communications platforms steadily migrated towards those that were faster, more reliable, more affordable, broader reaching, and capable of supporting multimedia. Aside from a few brief moments of competition, the government (via the New Zealand Post Office) held a monopoly over New Zealand communications infrastructure for over 100 years. It was within this context that the various New Zealand nationalisms emerged. 85 Much might also be said about the impact of migration and encounter on shifts in national identity, but this is outside the scope of this study. 86 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 51. 87 Australia No. 1, travelling from Wakapuaka (near Nelson) to Sydney and rerouted to Titahi Bay in 1917. 31 In the 1980s, communications began the process of deregulation and foreign-ownership, a trend that led to today’s primary site of mass media communication, the Southern Cross Cable, being owned by a Bermuda-based company. Fig 8 Landing the shore end of the Great Barrier Island submarine cable, 1908. There is no singular New Zealand national identity, however during certain periods aspects of nationalist rhetoric have held particular focus within New Zealand’s intellectual life. Each of these periods has coincided with the dramatic improvement of New Zealand’s communications links, contributing to the relatively rapid and affordable transmission of developing international economic and political doctrines. Mark Williams has outlined three distinct micro-nationalisms that have shaped present-day manifestations of New Zealand national identity and which provide a useful framework through which to explore popular notions of this identity: post-settler Pākehā nationalism, Māori nationalism, and bicultural nationalism. Post-settler Pākehā nationalism came from the need for “a displaced British people to feel ‘at home’ in New Zealand and this required the evolution (or construction) of a single coherent Pakeha culture.”88 This era, particularly associated with the 1930s–1970s, was marked by philosophical and political conservatism and materialism, and the rise of the telephone and radio. It was within this period of nationalism that Te Ika-a-Maui was produced (discussed in Chapter 2.1). 88 Mark Williams, “Crippled by geography? New Zealand Nationalisms,” in Not On Any Map, ed. Stuart Murray (Devon: University of Exeter Press, 1997), 21. 32 Māori nationalism refers specifically to the Māori renaissance of the 1970s–1980s, whereby Māori acted to reassert their rights under the Treaty of Waitangi, to reconnect with and regain autonomy over their land and culture (previously exploited/repressed) and to resolve historic grievances with the Crown. This nationalism was the primary catalyst for bicultural nationalism, and an awareness of it has informed methodological aspects of this study, particularly when taking into account the Takapuna and Muriwai sites. Bicultural nationalism also correlates with the 1970s–1980s—a vital and urgent response by the predominantly Pākehā government to Māori nationalism and major public ethical debates over racial issues (particularly during The Springbok Tour). This era was also marked by significant developments in the politics of equality and diversity (feminism, gay rights), bold moves in international diplomatic relations (nuclear-free legislation), and the emergence of assertive neoliberal government economic policy. The establishment of Māori and Bicultural Nationalism and the rise of these neoliberal doctrines coincided with the emergence and popularisation of the television. But it is questionable whether New Zealand could still be considered to be in an era of Bicultural Nationalism. Janine Hayward has observed that “Governments in the early 2000s have been reluctant to make strong statements about biculturalism”, further noting that “Political scientist Dominic O'Sullivan believes that by 2004 debates on biculturalism had been largely replaced by ideas about individualism, democracy and justice in the way governments and the public sector talk about New Zealand.”89 Expressions of official nationalism continue to be performed through established methods,90 however (as will be further elaborated on in Chapter 3.3) these have been criticised for tending towards the propagandistic. One concept contributing to this study is the idea that present-day New Zealand nationalism is potentially being used by established power structures to push New Zealand further towards US-style 89 Janine Hayward, “Biculturalism - Continuing debates,” Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, published June 20, 2012, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/biculturalism/page-3. 90 Fiona Barker, “New Zealand identity - Understanding New Zealand national identity,” Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/new-zealand-identity/page-1 (accessed 28 May, 2018). For example: the deliberate promotion of images by the state through symbols like flags or coins, immigration propaganda or tourist advertising; the performance of New Zealanders internationally in war or in sport; major political acts that attract international attention; and artistic portrayals, in films, books, art or music. 33 neoliberalism, and querying what part powerful US-media forces (as represented by the internet) might be playing in this potential form of neocolonialism. This creative practice research set out to investigate the influence of international hegemony and power structures on popular notions of Aotearoa-New Zealand’s national identity through a specific focus on a singular internet cable system, the Southern Cross Cable. Due to its significance, this system lent itself to functioning as an effective metonymic vehicle, revealing hidden US-centric control of this primary medium of neo- liberal globalisation. In order to test the limits of public engagement with this situation, this study resolved to create a body of conceptually driven artworks that used the SX, its histories, and locations, as an effective metonymic vehicle to reveal unseen