In the End "The Hope of Decolonization"

In the End “The Hope of Decolonization”

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Moana Jackson

Contents Knowing Colonization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Lives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Difficulty and Hope of Decolonization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

For hundreds of years, the peoples from Europe who have raped and pillaged their way through Indigenous nations have perfected not just the instruments and practices of dispossession but also a whole archive of doctrines and rewritten histories that purport to justify what they have done. They are in fact what may be termed “mythtakes,” deliberately concocted falsehoods to justify a process that is actually unjustifiable. Indigenous Peoples still live with the fact and practice of those mythtakes. To decolonize is to recognize that colonization is a deceptive lie as much as a crushing oppression. However, in the end, decolonization simply means having faith that we can still be brave enough to change an imposed reality.

In that quest, there is always hope in knowing that whenever our tīpuna fought or necessarily adapted to survive in the darkest days of oppression, the resistance was never futile and the adaptation was never acquiescence. A first step in rekindling that hope is perhaps to be clear about what colonization was, and is.

Keywords

Decolonization · Colonization · Indigenous law · Law M. Jackson (*) Wellington, New Zealand e-mail: mjfeb1840@gmail.com © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 E. A. McKinley, L. T. Smith (eds.), Handbook of Indigenous Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-10-3899-0_59

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To decolonize is to recognize that colonization is a deceptive lie as much as a crushing oppression. For hundreds of years the peoples from Europe who have raped and pillaged their way through indigenous nations have perfected not just the instruments and practices of dispossession, but also a whole archive of doctrines and rewritten histories that purport to justify what they have done. Sometimes those rationalizations have been debunked or categorized as myths, but they are something far more compulsive and sinister. They are in fact what may be termed “mythtakes,” deliberately concocted falsehoods to justify a process that is actually unjustifiable.

Indigenous Peoples still live with the fact and practice of those mythtakes. They have led to what seem like unchallengeable realities of power and expectation, and it always takes a certain courage to contemplate and break free from them. That is certainly the case in Aotearoa, but our people have always been daring even though the colonizers continually try to convince us it is unrealistic (and certainly illegal in their law) to advocate meaningful transformation. However, in the end decolonization simply means having faith that we can still be brave enough to change an imposed reality. In that quest there is always hope in knowing that whenever our tīpuna fought or necessarily adapted to survive in the darkest days of oppression, the resistance was never futile and the adaptation was never acquiescence. A first step in rekindling that hope is perhaps to be clear about what colonization was, and is.

Knowing Colonization There is an old and often-quoted adage that “the namer of names is the father of all things.” Apart from its gendered inappropriateness the adage has a basic truth because whoever assumes the right to name or define something controls its meaning and how others comprehend it. Ever since the colonizers first rampaged through an indigenous land, they have invented confusing definitions of what colonization is. Some have been misleading plays on words which abstract the suffering of its dreadful violence into an almost meaningless ahistoricism or else they have been wrapped in jargon that too often reads like excuses hiding in a thesaurus. Most often the definition is just a rationalization for what they have done (and continue to do), a misremembering of fact or a set of presumptions which position it as a past event rather than a still ongoing process.

Yet colonization was and is a very simple process of brutal dispossession in which States from Europe assumed the right to take over the lands, lives, and power of Indigenous Peoples who had done them no harm. In most indigenous lives it is neither just a past or a memory but a present which links the shock and awe of contemporary international relations to the musings of long dead European philosophers contemplating how to describe human difference and then how to destroy or control those they saw as inferior because they were different.

Decolonization is the process of breaking free from that dispossession and all of the ideas and practices which shaped and were derived from it. It is to interrogate and dismantle all that it has meant and still means to the way we think and live our lives.

To Māori in Aotearoa it means knowing a history which did not begin with the

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arrival of the first strangers in our land but centuries before in the monasteries, court houses, corporations, and inns in Europe where “ordinary” Europeans came to believe they could and should rule the world.

Indeed when Queen Victoria was crowned in 1838, Britain was merely the latest European country involved in a worldwide surge in colonization. At that time South America was a mess of conflicting interests among different European States while in the north the governments of Canada and the United States were carrying on the suppression of Indigenous Peoples that their English, Spanish, Swedish, Danish, and French forbears had begun. India was seen as the jewel in the colonizing Crown, while China was the unbounded mart for commerce which 2 years after the coronation led Victoria’s troops to invade Canton to ensure that Britain could control the opium trade. Other parts of Asia were being fought over as well and many European States were beginning to carve up Africa among themselves like some gigantic birthday cake.

Like every other colonizer the British believed that they were entitled and blessed to rule over those they regarded as racially inferior. If some States such as Sweden and Denmark were no longer active colonizers in the mid-nineteenth century, others continued to dispossess with enthusiasm or diffidence depending upon the costs involved. Indigenous Peoples were being “discovered” in more places than ever before and Europe was hell-bent on dispossessing and destroying them in the first global war of terror.

Colonization permeated every aspect of European and Euro-American society. It provided the vicarious thrill of a marketplace serving up everything from spices and cotton to wool and gold, and it gave them access to everything from the profits of bodies for sale to the raw materials which made their industrial revolution possible.

The men pickling indigenous body parts in Edinburgh and the women sipping coffee in Paris may have seen themselves as just scientists or consumers, but their acts were each based upon the same dispossession carried out for the glory of their god and the honor of their sovereign. Colonization was the cleansed-by-distance exotica that titillated their senses and lined their pockets, and they still live on those profits today.

To the millions who left Europe to dispossess Indigenous Peoples colonization was their chance of a lifetime. Many of them may have departed with few belongings and a fear of the unknown but they had learned they were part of a legitimate and civilized endeavor where success and excitement could be theirs for the taking.

Among the hordes that left were the usual speculators, bigots, abusers, utopians, and zealots who had been camp followers in the centuries of Europe’s internal violence.

There were also women oppressed by patriarchy, churchgoers persecuted for their beliefs, peasants who had been removed from their land, slum dwellers crushed by poverty, and others like the Irish who had long been savaged by their neighbors.

Colonization for them was an escape. However, in seeking their freedom they also presumed a right to dispossess and thus ended up wielding the same kind of unjust power over Indigenous Peoples that they had once chafed under themselves.

When the Pacific was colonized its diverse islands became early ports of call for Europe’s most violent, excitable, and puritanical. Whalers and sealers followed the explorer-colonizers such as James Cook and hunted around for all sorts of prey.

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Criminals found the islands a handy bolt-hole to escape the hangman’s noose, and speculators liked the combination of tropical weather and easy markets among apparently easy-going and easy to manipulate people. As usual missionaries were particularly keen to take this new earthly paradise and descended with a milliners’ wrath demanding that the inhabitants’ sinful nakedness be clothed even as many of their own parishioners thought they had swooned into a pornucopia where their wishful thinking might come true. They all tended to paint the people in the racist hues of alarm and desire and classified them in a neat little Pacific chain of being that ranked Pacific peoples in various categories of savagery, with all of them naturally lower than their European superiors. What had already been tried in the Americas and Asia and Africa was easily adapted here. Genocide, and the lies that tried to obscure it, was remarkably transportable.

When it finally descended upon our people, it was underpinned by the same histories that had been lived and mythtakenly justified in all the centuries since Christopher Columbus stumbled into the Caribbean. There are many parts to what may be described as the culture of colonization, but there are three main facts which in a very real sense became the base of the colonizers’ power and institutions. They began the process of White privilege and set in place a new race-based reality which privileged their lives over ours.

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Lives Violence is the systemic reality of colonization. Taking anything without cause is always an act of violence, but doing so with the intention of culturally perpetuating and legitimating the taking is a systemic violence that feeds into everything else the takers wish to do. It can therefore manifest itself in both the obvious violence of war and rape and abuse and the less obvious but equally horrific violence of taking away a people’s law or language or faith.

In post-1492 colonization the dualism that divided people into superior and inferior races also divided the world between the privileged who were entitled to live and those whose lives were expendable. Through a vicious circular argument, the colonizers learned that because Indigenous Peoples were less worthy of living their dying was less worthy of lamenting. In the same way that they learned that their will to dispossess was reasonable and legal, they also learned a perverse reality where killing the innocents could be normalized if occasionally regretted. Indeed indigenous death and suffering could be ordered in the dispassionate language of a legal decree or the sterile words of a statute which often gave them a hypocritical moral acceptability which then allowed the colonizers to characterize any retaliatory resistance by Indigenous Peoples as immoral, illegal, and an act of savage rebellion.

The actual instruments of death that the colonizers used are all too familiar.

Indigenous Peoples have been speared, shot, bombed, starved, hanged, mutilated, disemboweled, thrown over the sides of ships at sea, burned alive, fed literally to the ravening dogs, and of course scalped for bounty (a practice which the colonizers still mythtakenly blame the victims for). The first bodies dispatched by Columbus

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established a pattern that was followed with little variation from the ritual gutting of pregnant Mapuche women to the sport of “hooking” young children (catching them on lances and throwing their bodies into walls) and the much later hunting of Tasmanian Aboriginals as game and the targeting of children in massacres and institutions in Aotearoa. Introduced diseases took its toll too of course as did the emotional and spiritual suffering that dispossession necessarily imposed. Indigenous death and trauma was as varied as it was terrible.

Colonization also forced many Indigenous Peoples into a despairing living death, especially when for example colonizers raped indigenous women and children. Such assaults were not rare exceptions but a specific part of the systemic violence of colonization in which the belief that indigenous lands were wasted and “virginal” and therefore “rapeable” was transmuted into a similar presumption that Native bodies were similarly rapeable and able to be wasted and taken. In fact rape and abuse were almost as common as “just wars” and unjust murders except for one important difference: those who were raped were subjected to a lifetime of slow dying, of being shadows slipping into a fear-filled despair because their hurt was also the hurt of those they loved and who loved them. The colonizers still tend to deny that terror or claim it is an exception, but it is recorded in indigenous laments as a recurring reality that is too frequent to be a mere aberration.

The numbers and kinds of dying are reflections of colonization’s inhumanity. The concern that was occasionally shown by some individual colonizers did not alter the fact that the millions of people who perished were too often regarded with the same uncaring defiance found in the words of the Bhagavad-Gita “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds” (Swarupananda 1909). In any sense of the word, colonization is a genocide, and as many Jewish people define Hitler’s extermination policies as the “Shoah” or great calamity, so surely it was a holocaust.

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Power Power is the definitive hunger of colonization. The European will to dispossess harnessed power to achieve its ends whether it was the power that came out of the barrel of a gun or the apparent reason of law or the injunctions of a god. Colonization has always been a culturally scripted power game and by its very nature it is a privileging of one form of political power over another.

To achieve that goal the colonizers invented numerous mythtakes to “sell” the imposition of their authority as a response to disorder or a regime change for the better – they were “gifting” something to Indigenous Peoples which they assumed they never had before. Yet every culture formulates a way to power because they realize that social harmony is best maintained if there is some means of ensuring community adherence to shared norms and values. Societies do not function well in a power vacuum and so they all develop a culturally distinctive concept of power, an idea of what it is or should be, and a site of power which is the institution or place where it is actually exercised. Both grow from the stories in a land and both coalesce in constitutions that differ from culture to culture.

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Our people had for centuries adapted and defined the concept of power called mana or more recently tino rangatiratanga. Like all concepts of power, it was an expression of independence, but because of our particular ideals of whakapapa and interrelationships, it was also about the interdependence between the different polities of Hapū and Iwi. It was the very Māori expression of the very human desire to be free and to make one’s own decisions in one’s land. It was a concept of selfdetermination with a history and associated practice that was handed down through the generations and defiantly protected if the need arose. And because it was an intergenerational responsibility, it was inalienable and could not be ceded or given away to anyone else.

The people of Europe also developed a culturally unique concept of power which they called sovereignty. It reflected their belief that human authority was derived from their Christian God and that it should be structured in a hierarchy similar to that which led upwards to his unquestioned power. Its meaning and extent was argued over throughout the centuries and was then defined within discourses where the same illogical flair that was used to create the inferior indigenous body was also applied to the construction of constitutional chains of being in which sovereignty became the superior and only valid means of understanding and exercising power.

It is therefore no coincidence that the most influential definitions of sovereignty as a somehow “universal” and “civilized” concept of power were devised at the same time that Europe was seeking to destroy the power of Indigenous Peoples. Sometimes its racism was openly expressed as in the view of the French courtier Jean Bodin who argued in 1569 that it marked a hierarchy of progress from societies of apolitical barbarism to those with a civilized constitutional order (Lindfors 2017), or that of Thomas Hobbes who suggested it only came about when nations advanced beyond the primitive “state of nature” (where Indigenous Peoples supposedly lived) to a state of reason (which only the colonizers had) (Williams 2017).

The racialized mythtake of sovereignty and its subsequent imposition on Indigenous Peoples has been the most compelling source of its multi-violence. In Aotearoa, as in other countries, its enforced exercise denied our people the simple human right to maintain our own power and so determine our own future through the political and constitutional institutions which we had always had. It was also necessarily an inherent privileging of the colonizers which ultimately cultivated a sense of powerlessness among our people in which real power and wisdom only seem to come from somewhere other than our own traditions and our own sense of “rightness.” It colonized us by closing off our power and constantly trying to close down the hope that we might one day be free and constitutionally independent once again.

The Privileging of the Colonizers’ Law Law is the pretence to reason in colonization. Like the various concepts of power, it is also a unique cultural creation born of every society’s recognition that to maintain harmony it is necessary to have agreed values and ideas which people will accept as

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part of living within their particular social order. Just as societies abhor a power vacuum, so they have always accepted that they cannot live in a “law-less” condition.

Our people have been no different and we developed a rich and complex jurisprudence of law based on the whakapapa or relationships that existed between humans and everything else in the universe. The tikanga or law is based on a relational jurisprudence known as the whakamārama tōtika or the means of explaining rightness. It provided reaffirmation of mana and because of its whakapapa base it also meant that our people lived with the law rather than under it just as one lived with someone else in a relationship.

To the colonizers however, we either did not possess “real” law or had only the rudiments of some primitive “lore” governed by caprice and vengeance rather than reason. When they came to Aotearoa and other parts of the world to colonizes, they therefore presumed that we were not only incapable of being “sovereign,” we had no law to guarantee and protect that sovereignty. Their racist arrogance consequently allowed them to proclaim that if an Englishman (always a man) traveled to another white country, he would accept its jurisdiction, but if he traveled to a non-white country such as ours, then he would carry his law with him because primitive lore could not legitimately extend its writ over a civilized colonizer. In fact it needed to be replaced by the civilizing influences of the common law which would then become the “one law for all.”

The denial of the Māori law was necessary for the creation of a new legal and political regime in this land. The establishment of the “New Zealand” nation-state in fact required the dismissal of the interwoven legal and political processes of Māori.

The rejection of our law was essential to the constitutional subjugation which colonization seeks. However, to mask the dispossession inherent in this process, a new and culturally different symbiosis between politics and law had to be made in which the dispossession itself would be made “legal” in the colonizers’ law. By a kind of legal magic the wrong of colonization would become the legitimate base of a new and lawful sovereign State.

This magic provided a veneer of reason in which doing things “in the name of the (ir) law” could countenance everything from the Trail of Tears in the United Sates to the forced confiscation of thousands of acres of land in Aotearoa. It made indigenous dispossession a matter of “domestic” jurisdiction, although it was based on numerous doctrines in what the colonizers soon took to calling “international law” or the law of their civilized nations. Each doctrine was based on racist assumptions and breath-taking gymnastics of illogicality, but they were, and still are, recognized by the colonizers as the jurisdictional rituals which gave legitimacy to whatever they wished to do. They are mythtakes that led to very real and tragic consequences for Indigenous Peoples.

The most famous or infamous is the so-called Doctrine of Discovery which assumed that if a Christian “discovered” a non-Christian indigenous land, the simple act of discovery allowed the land to be taken and occupied. Colonizers from Columbus to Cook waved flags and buried bottles and performed all sorts of theater to announce their “discovery” and with it their self-presumed legal right to the lands

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and people. No doubt the people themselves were bemused by a strange White man waving a piece of colored rag at them and would only learn later that it signaled the start of a previously unknown violence. In Aotearoa Cook performed rituals of discovery in 1769 which were followed in 1840 by other proclamations issued by Governor Hobson even as he was gathering signatures on Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Theater always requires a suspension of disbelief of course, and the presumptions of the doctrine of discovery were quickly followed by another ritual denial of Māori independence and law with the implementation of the “doctrine of aboriginal title.”

Under this doctrine the colonizers agreed to recognize preexisting aboriginal rights, subject to their overarching authority to define what they were as well as extinguish them if they felt it was necessary. The mind-numbing arrogance of the doctrine is that it is still regarded as a mark of the colonizers’ benevolence and honor, even though it subordinates any notion of rights as our people had always expressed them in our own land.

The colonizers’ law finalized the denial of legal capacity to Māori and other Indigenous Peoples unless that capacity was defined and controlled by the colonizers. It restricted relief or enumeration of indigenous status and rights to the very legal systems and philosophy which were oppressing them. In a very real way it turned once free and independent people into the legal subjects of others – it made them subject to a law and power which was never of this land.

The Difficulty and Hope of Decolonization In Aotearoa we still live with the legacy of colonization’s power and law and violence. We also live with the mind-shifting insouciance of the mythtakes, and especially their belief that colonization here was somehow “better” than anywhere else because of the treaty and a purported honor of the Crown. But the Treaty has always been breached, and the idea of honor in the dishonor of taking someone’s lands, lives, and power is a contradiction in terms. No matter how colonization is achieved, it is always a violent genocidal dispossession. To assume, there is some sliding scale of honorable acceptability or a Hit Parade of comparative benevolence in which New Zealand is Number One is one of this country’s most misleading lies.

Yet it continues to underpin the power and wealth which Pākehā take for granted as well as the structures and values of the New Zealand State which is now simply characterized as the “reality.” Indeed to challenge those realities in any meaningful way, to decolonize their hold over our lives, often leads to allegations that we are being “unrealistic.” The result has been that many of our people, and many Indigenous Peoples in other colonized lands, find it hard to imagine any other reality.

Many do not even see it as an ongoing oppression because it is all that they know – they may even in some cases be comfortable in their own oppression.

Indeed because of the ongoing exposure to colonized learning and the lack of any meaningful indigenous benchmarks in power and control against which to measure their experiences, many have come to accept for example that a foreign power is legitimate or a foreign law is the law because they do not know their own anymore.

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They accept the idea of cultural performance in song and dance and ceremony as the sum total of what it means to be indigenous and lose sight of the fact that such things were once the expression of a proud and effective political independence. There is a sad but understandable “surviving in the now” about such views, but perhaps one of the saddest indicators of how colonization damages the self-perception of those it colonizes is when many Indigenous Peoples now seem to believe that what is happening is due to their own laziness or inadequacy. It is all their own fault. An even sadder one is when they then begin to say that “we are our own worst enemies.”

To make us believe that is surely the most violent, racist, and ominous power the colonizers have ever wielded.

Linda Smith (2012) has written about “the reach of imperialism into our heads,” a reach that many Indigenous Peoples describe as the “colonisation of the mind.” The slow overwhelming of what people should think and see as real has not been forced directly at the point of a gun, although that was often the catalyst which first instilled the fear of not conforming to what the colonizers wanted. Rather it has occurred surreptitiously, like a cloud that moves across the sun and takes your shadow without you knowing. And like the sun it has remained a constant reality in indigenous lives.

But every reality, and every understanding of reality, is created by humans and can be deconstructed by humans as well. No reality is immutable or beyond change and the centuries of indigenous resistance have always brought change in what seemed unchangeable situations. That history is part of our reality.

And decolonization is not just about challenging and deconstructing the colonized “reality” but having faith once again in our own. To deal with the trauma and wrong that colonization inflicts while creating the hope for something better. There is a moral as well as a political, economic, and constitutional imperative to that reimagining because it is not just about reclaiming long-denied rights but seeking the Māori and indigenous notion of “rightness” in which a sense of relational justice may be restored.

Decolonization takes many forms because there is much to reclaim and every indigenous nation, and every indigenous person, will know best what that means for them. There is however one thing which perhaps we all have in common. We cannot entirely ease the pain of remembering those who suffered and have been killed or abused, and nor should we. But in the very memory of their sacrifice is a decolonizing reaffirmation of their worth, and of ours. To walk the sad trails, to tell the stories of hurt and survival, and to sing the old songs is in its own way to know ourselves. For Māori it is to know with pride as well as a righteous anger that even in the worst days when our people were dying from new diseases or trying to hold onto our dignity in the face of a virulent racism and military invasion, our songs became laments telling of the wrongs that were being done across the land, even against children. They were sad songs but sung in a poetics of fearful protectiveness: “Stay by me little one/there is an anger all around/more fierce than the wind.” To reclaim that same fierce protectiveness of who we are is part of decolonizing ourselves.

In Aotearoa one of the most difficult decolonizing projects confronting Māori has always been to reclaim the power taken from us by the colonizers. Our people literally fought to hold on to that mana in the nineteenth century and have continued

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ever since to debate among ourselves and with others how to achieve that. The starting point for that discourse has always been the 1835 He Whakaputanga (the Declaration of Independence) signed by a number of Hapū and Iwi as a definitive statement of our constitutional reality, and the Treaty of Waitangi signed to allow strangers into our land.

The most recent initiative has been a 5 year process of discussion among a wide cross section of Māori people following a Brief from a National hui to set up a Working Group “To develop and implement a model for an inclusive Constitution for Aotearoa based on tikanga. . ., He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Niu Tireni of 1835, Te Tiriti o Waitangi of 1840, and other indigenous human rights instruments. . .” (Matike Mai Aotearoa 2015). The Terms of Reference did not ask the Working Group to consider how the Treaty might fit within the imposed colonizing constitutional system but rather to seek advice on a different type of constitutionalism that is based upon our own law and He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti.

The Terms of Reference were themselves therefore a decolonizing statement of intent, and our people responded in over 252 hui and 70 discussion groups held with rangatahi. While there was some consideration given to possible constitutional models, most of the discussion centered on the values which would underpin a non-colonizing constitution, such as the well-being of Mother Earth. There was also a clear recognition that sovereignty was not a Māori concept of power and that our law is fundamental to any new constitutional order.

Our people also accepted that such constitutional transformation would not occur easily or quickly because power unjustly taken is never willingly forfeited. However, a goal was set of achieving substantive change by 2040, 200 years after the signing of the Treaty. Indeed in spite of all that has happened, there is still good will and a belief that the many obstacles to transformation can eventually be overcome and a new constitution established. Our people did not see that as some pious hope but as a legitimate treaty expectation and an essential decolonizing requirement. In the end, it is that willingness to imagine and work toward meaningful change which is our greatest hope for decolonization.

References Lindfors T (2017) Jean Bodin (c. 1529–1569). Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy (IEP).

Retrieved from: http://iep.utm.edu/bodin/#SSH10bi Matike Mai Aotearoa (2015) He Whakaaro Here Whakaumu mō Aotearoa: the report of Matike Mai Aotearoa – the independent working group on constitutional transformation. Retrieved from: http://www.converge.org.nz/pma/MatikeMaiAotearoaReport.pdf Smith LT (2012) Decolonizing methodologies: research and indigenous peoples, 2nd edn. University of Otago Press, Dunedin Swarupananda S (1909) Srimad-Bhagavad-Gita: English translation and commentary. Retrieved from: http://sacred-texts.com/hin/sbg/index.htm Williams G (2017) Thomas Hobbes: moral and political philosophy. Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy (IEP). Retrieved from: http://www.iep.utm.edu/hobmoral/#H7