Author: Tina Ngata

Understanding Environmental Racism through the Marine and Coastal Area Amendment Bill

Aotearoa has invested very little into research and education on racism. As a result, we are still inclined to focus on racism as an interpersonal experience rather than a system, and concepts such as internal racism, lateral racism, systemic and environmental racism are far less understood, in general.

It’s also important to understand that racism is uniquely shaped by factors such as geographic location, political history, economy and, of course colonial interference. So while there are commonalities to, for instance, anti-blackness (eg use of racial slurs, cultural extraction), it is also uniquely shaped by factors such as geographic location, political history, and economy.

Environmental racism in Aotearoa is unavoidably shaped by the fact that we are a moana nation. Of course, this starts with the cultural – our relationships and history across Te Moananui a Kiwa inform who we are as Māori and as a nation. For Māori, the moana is an ancestor, a sacred site, a food cupboard, a school, and a highway. Geographically, we are never far from the ocean. No part of New Zealand’s landbase is more than 120km away from the shoreline, and most people here live within 50km of the ocean. Our moana estate outsizes our land-base. Our moana plays a major role in the economy, being estimated at a value of over $10billion. It plays a huge part of our day to day lives, identity, and economy.

We must also take into account that colonial racism is the bedrock of the nation-state of New Zealand. This is important because land and water dispossession and exploitation are distinct features of colonial racism.

So naturally, when environmental racism shows up in Aotearoa, it will show up in relation to our moana, in powerful ways. All of these factors come together, within the Marine and Coastal Areas Amendment Bill, or as MP Takuta Ferris recently noted, the easily-renamed “Foreshore and Seabed Here-We-Go-Again Bill”, about to be passed in parliament.

If you listen to the current government, they will tell you that, in deciding what it takes for Māori to establish “customary title” (ie a rightful claim on a coastal area), the courts have interpreted the act wrong, and so they are compelled to change the legislation and essentially raise the bar for that process, making it more difficult for customary title to be successfully claimed.

This is not the first time the government has decided to legislate over the top of the courts, in relation to our foreshore and seabed. The last major time this happened was in the landmark Ngāti Apa v Solicitor General case in 2003. In that case, a number of iwi from the Marlborough Sounds sought a determination from the Māori Land Court over whether parts of the foreshore and seabed in their rohe could be investigated for customary title. The Crown tried to block this by arguing that the foreshore and seabed belonged to the Crown by default — an argument that had been assumed as legal fact for over a century.

The Court of Appeal, led by Chief Justice Sian Elias, rejected this claim. The Court held that the Māori Land Court did indeed have jurisdiction to determine whether customary title existed, and crucially, that Crown ownership of the foreshore and seabed had never been lawfully established. This meant that iwi and hapū could pursue claims to prove their customary rights under the law, something that had been denied to us for generations.

In reaching this decision, the Court explicitly overturned the infamous Wi Parata v Bishop of Wellington (1877) precedent — and that brings us to the Doctrine of Discovery. You see, the 1877 case over Ngāti Toa lands had utilised an infamous courtcase in so-called United States called Johnson v M’intosh, where Chief Justice John Marshall found that the act of “discovery” granted Europeans title to native land. This of course, occurred off the back of three centuries of European society being shaped by religious doctrines which gave them entitlement to possess all “islands, lands, harbors, and seas”. From 1877 onwards, with the embedding of the Doctrine of Discovery into New Zealand land law, Wi Parata v Bishop of Wellington was then used as further precedent for multiple cases of native title extinguishment in Aotearoa, keeping the Doctrine of Discovery an active principle in our legal system throughout the following century.

In 2004, when Chief Justice Sian Elias rejected and overturned Wi Parata, the Court restored a measure of legal recognition to Māori customary rights that had been buried under colonial legal fictions for over a century – and had that been that, it would have been an interesting lesson about the time that the Doctrine of Discovery was rejected in New Zealand. But even though the New Zealand judiciary were ready to start rejecting the Doctrine of Discovery… the legislature were clearly not.

And so Helen Clark’s Labour government, having decided that this finding was politically inconvenient for them (not least because Don Brash was holding propaganda speaking  tours and funding full page ads about the government giving all the beaches to Māori and that New Zealanders would all be locked out of the beach)…. simply legislated it all away, through the Foreshore and Seabed Act, which formally took the entire foreshore and placed it in the ownership of the Crown. It was the largest act of colonial land-theft in modern history. Then in 2011 the National government, alongside the Māori Party, passed the Marine and Coastal Areas (Takutai Moana) Act, which didn’t repeal the Foreshore and Seabed Act but created some standards for establishing customary title, so that Māori could claim back their coastline. It was still colonial, it was still unfair, but as always, our people worked with what they were given, and so multiple cases were brought forward to claim back our mana takutai, our coastal territories. These cases went into millions of dollars, and represented thousands of hours by Māori lawyers, expert historians, kau mātua and many others who worked to reclaim the stolen legacy of our ancestors. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t always successful, but bit by bit, more often than not, it was working.

And then along came this government. The most hyper-colonial government we have seen, in many, many years.

And again, just like 2004, the government decided to simply legislate it all away, and lay waste to the last decade of work, by changing the rules yet again, making the standard for establishing customary title nearly impossible, and worse than that, making it retrospective, so even those who won their cases, would lose their coastline all over again, anyway.

Which all makes today’s news, that the original land of Wi Parata has finally been bought back by Ngāti Toa Rangatira, somewhat bittersweet. But it is also a powerful moment to honour this tīpuna Wiremu Te Kakakura Parata, who bravely stood against the Doctrine of Discovery being applied to his whenua, in the face of extreme colonial supremacy. An act of environmental racism that would become the basis of multiple other acts of environmental racism through to this day. He knew the right thing to do, and the right thing to say, regardless of who stood before him. Last week, at the second reading of the bill, we heard this momo again in the voice of Ngāti Wai rangatira Aperahama Edwards, speaking his truth, in the language of this land, from the gallery as parliament again moved to exercise the Doctrine of Discovery on our coastline.

Next week, the Marine and Coastal Areas Amendment Bill will enter its third reading and apparently pass into law.

On Thursday morning, I listened to Chris Bishop bluster his way through an interview on Breakfast tv and amongst the very confused and confusing lines of reason from the very simple question of “how can you justify passing this against such clear public opposition”, he stumbled into the “settlement” of New Zealand and the rights to “common law” that Māori retained at that time.

Here is the link to the full interview (it starts at 1:22:40). Apart from a blustery Bishop (right) you’ll also get to enjoy Labour MP Kieran McNulty (left)affirming the right of courts to interpret legislation as they see fit and expressing concern that this National government could simply legislate over the top of that, with no apparent reflection that it was his party who did all of that, to the letter, first, and also no commitment to repeal it if they get back into power.

Again this is a helpful example of environmental racism. In spite of what Chris Bishop says here, even the English draft document favoured by government as “the treaty” guarantees full, exclusive, undisturbed possession of our fisheries and coastline for as long as we desire to retain it (and of course the actual treaty, Te Tiriti, affirms our full political authority over our worlds. Beyond that, as I mentioned in the outset, our own environmental legal system, aka tikanga, is also a part of our social estate that we are entitled to keep regardless of people who show up with guns, greed, supreme entitlement, and a strange idea that everywhere they travel around the world, they can take their legal system with them and plant it on the land much like their flags, swords and diseases. It really is some kind of weird arcane idea that their magic pink toes, upon coming into contact with Indigenous land, automatically extinguish native title, along with native legal systems and native political authority. This is exactly the logic Chris Bishop appears to be clinging to when he describes the bill today.

For the rest of us, this is another page in New Zealand’s shameful colonial rap sheet. A long criminal history of theft and illegitimate domination. We did not stand for it in 1877. We did not stand for it in 2004. We do no stand for it in 2025, and we will continue to show up, and fight by all means, for the rightful return of all our ancestors left for us.

Toitū te whenua, toitū te moana, toitū te iwi Māori, ake, ake, ake.

When Media Becomes a Megaphone for Harm

I’ve spent a lot of time over the years watching how racism is covered in our media here in Aotearoa. Sometimes it’s what’s said that shocks me. More often, it’s how things are said — or what gets left out altogether. While racism, and the reporting of it have been longstanding issues, what we can see is that when racialised conflicts and political racism increases, so too does poor racism coverage in media.

I don’t believe most journalists set out to cause harm. Many genuinely want to shine a light on injustice. But intention doesn’t cancel impact. And when it comes to racism, our media has too often become a megaphone for harmful narratives — not because journalists are all bad actors, but because the structures, habits, and “rules of the game” they’re working within are unsafe.

This isn’t just a local issue. Globally, media has played a role in shifting the boundaries of what’s seen as normal — especially when it comes to racism and far-right politics. What used to be fringe is now mainstream. What used to cause outrage now barely raises an eyebrow. And that shift doesn’t happen by accident.

Media isn’t neutral

One of the myths I often hear is that media “just reports what’s happening”. But media doesn’t simply reflect society; it shapes it. Every headline, every decision about who to interview, what photo to use, what gets described as “a clash” versus “a racist attack” — these all tell us something about whose voices are prioritised, and whose experiences are minimised.


Scholar Daniel Nyberg talks about this in his research on democracy and corporate power. He describes how corporations shape political life not just through lobbying or donations, but by influencing the public sphere — the space where we talk about what matters. Media is a huge part of that public sphere. When media organisations depend on corporate funding, clicks, or political access, it’s easy for certain narratives to dominate while others are drowned out. That isn’t a conspiracy; it’s a structural reality.

Much of the wealth that is today invested in large-scale media corporations is racialised wealth (by racialised wealth I mean wealth that is derived or accessed by racist means), it drops out of a history of colonial privilege that has lined older, white male pockets. This is not an accidental or innocent investment, media platforms are purchased by the wealthy in order to powerfully influence the public sphere in a way that protects their privilege. Just as its true that no journalist sets out to do harm, it’s also true that no media magnate invests in a platform without self-protection in mind. I can tell you now, for free, who holds the trump card in that scenario (pun intended). This is as true for social media oligarchs as it is for mainstream media oligarchs. The age of a “democratised internet” are well and truly over.

So even when journalists do have the intention to tell important stories which hold power to account and expose colonial harm, the colonial political-economy can operate against them. For example, political and social figures and corporations in Aotearoa with access to racialised wealth regularly threaten defamation suits against media companies and journalists. Mainstream media outfits are now more cautious than ever, and this leads to their lawyers consistently compelling journalists to censor themselves. Even though they may not ultimately win the case, the result can still be an expensive courtcase, which is affordable to the politician/public figure/corporation but financially harmful to the journalist, and the media corporation will also often opt to censor rather than taking on the expense. Ironically, some of the most litigious politicians and public figures in Aotearoa are also some of the loudest proponents of “free speech”.

In a democracy, when the space where we form our collective understanding gets distorted, everything else follows. It becomes harder for certain communities to be heard, for injustices to be named, and for racist structures to be challenged. This is exactly how racism infiltrates institutions of power, eventuating in racist policy and legislation.

Journalists who ignore their own power in this space are particularly unsafe. I have often heard journalists describe themselves as just “one of the public”. When your readership or viewership runs into the multi-millions every quarter, you are not just “one of the public” – you have a responsibility to deeply consider the language and framing you employ. Many journalists, like much colonial power, prefer to sit in the background, named maybe once if you look hard enough, but have their hands on powerful levers of influence, which they will use to manufacture and direct scorn or praise as they see fit. Accountability in this space is thin – the public can complain to the media council or broadcasting standards, but these, too, are shaped and constrained by colonial privilege and norms, and limited in enforceability.

How harmful narratives spread

In 2018, researcher Whitney Phillips wrote The Oxygen of Amplification — a project that should be required reading for anyone working in media. She studied how well-meaning journalists ended up amplifying extremist content by covering it in ways that gave it more reach than it could have ever achieved on its own.

Sometimes this happens through endless “both sides” framing. Sometimes it’s by giving a platform to bad-faith actors and treating their views as just another perspective in the debate. And sometimes it’s through uncritical repetition of language, images, or memes that extremists have deliberately crafted to be catchy, relatable and shareable.

Once these narratives enter mainstream media, they don’t stay fringe. They get laundered. They get normalised.

A recent study by Bolet and Foos tested what happens when audiences are exposed to interviews with far-right figures. Even when the interviewer pushed back critically, the mere act of platforming those voices shifted audience perceptions — people started to think those views were more widespread and acceptable.

That’s the quiet power of media: it doesn’t need to shout for norms to shift. Just repeated exposure will do.

The slow slide of what’s “normal”

This is where things get dangerous. Over time, repeated exposure to racist or far-right talking points through mainstream media leads to what researchers call discursive normalisation. Basically, the edges of the conversation move. The unacceptable becomes debatable. Then it becomes “just an opinion.” Then it becomes mainstreamed, and then it becomes policy.

Normalisation can also influence what is perceived as the “middle-ground”, a favoured site of media positioning. The “middle”, however, is always shaped by the edges of the conversation. Within the “middle ground” we find conservatives who may not use overt hate-speech, but cloak their racism in more neutralised terms. They function to make “racism-lite” seem reasonable and rational. Their most powerful purpose is to make folks in the center feel interested, and accommodated enough to shift across to increasingly more conservative forums.

So the concept of locating the discussion on the “middle-ground” can often be a bad-faith one. When we apply a power and privilege analysis to discussions on racism, and take into account the way in which conservative political power and finance have shaped and dominated the conversation for centuries – accommodating conservative views is not actually the “middle-ground”.

But more important than that – racism is not a collection of debatable opinions and vibes. It is a human rights framework backed with decades of activism and scholarly discipline, and it is ultimately, unavoidably tied into people’s rights of existence. It is not subject to debate, and cannot be “won” by debate. Even if an antiracism “wins” a debate on racism, the fact it has been promoted it as a debatable issue means anti-racism has lost.

We’ve seen this happen overseas — with the rise of far-right populism in Europe and the US — and we’re seeing it here too. What used to be called out as racism is now often framed as “free speech” or “cultural debate.” Journalists might think they’re holding space for diverse views, but without critical framing, they can unintentionally legitimise exclusionary ideas.

Common patterns in unsafe reporting

Here are a few patterns I see over and over in Aotearoa’s media:

  • “Neutral” language that hides racism: Using vague terms like “clashes” or “tensions” instead of naming racist attacks for what they are (e.g. NZ media coverage of Israel’s invasion and genocide in Gaza is a prime example of this)
  • Both-sidesism: Giving equal weight to racist positions and anti-racist positions, as if racism is just a difference of opinion.
  • De-expertising: Removing racism from its disciplinary context (a context that has grown out of decades of activism and scholarship) to re-frame it as social issue that everyone can have an equally valid opinion upon.
  • Centring colonial authority: In some instances Police, politicians, and other colonial institutions are quoted as the default authorities, while communities experiencing harm are treated as secondary (for example, most media stories regarding incarcerated people are told with input from police, politicians and ministries, but rarely incarcerated people or their families themselves).
  • Coded language: Words like “radical”, “welfare dependent,” “cultural clash” get used as if they’re objective, but they carry heavy racial undertones.
  • Platforming provocateurs: Giving airtime to those who deliberately incite racial division, under the guise of “balance” or “controversy.”
  • Radicalising justice: One way in which hate is normalised, occurs when simple justice or affirmative action measures (like self-determination, decolonisation or even stepping stones like co-governance) are framed as “radical” and “dangerous” rather than corrections to a state of injustice.
  • Racialised ideas of what is “newsworthy”: News items that cast racialised groups in a negative light can often be picked up and recycled repeatedly, compared to similar instances where the exact same behaviour from conservative corners are ignored, or only covered once.
  • Racist sub-editing: Headlines that use intentionally inflammatory language or misrepresent the issue entirely in order to entice clicks.

Most journalists don’t intend to reinforce racism when they do this. Often they’re just working fast, with little support, under pressure to deliver clicks or to appear “balanced.” But in a country where racism is still deeply structural, and at a time where race relations are at their most strained, these patterns actively contribute to harm, regardless of intent.

A better way is possible

This isn’t about blaming individual journalists. It’s about recognising the responsibility and power that comes with controlling public narratives — and then making conscious choices to use that power responsibly.

There are some excellent resources already out there to help journalists do this:

The Oxygen of Amplification – Tips for Reporters: https://datasociety.net/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/FULLREPORT_Oxygen_of_Amplification_DS.pdf
Ethical Journalism Network – Racism Reporting Toolkit: https://ethicaljournalismnetwork.org/resources/publications/racism-reporting-toolkit

The Race Forward Race Reporting Guide: https://www.raceforward.org/resources/toolkits/race-reporting-guide

Some tips for covering Indigenous communities, for non-Natives by Valerie Vande Panne: https://www.poynter.org/commentary/2023/here-are-some-tips-for-covering-indigenous-communities-for-non-natives/


UNESCO’s guide on reporting migration, xenophobia and hate speech: https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000378157

An invitation, not a condemnation

I’ve worked with journalists who genuinely want to do better — and many of them are frustrated, too. They want support, better training, safer editorial environments, and less pressure to chase controversy for clicks.

This is an invitation: let’s have that conversation more openly. Let’s build media practices that don’t just avoid harm, but actively strengthen our democracy and our collective capacity to name and address racism.

Media has incredible power. With that power comes responsibility. And if we take that responsibility seriously, media can be part of dismantling racism, not reinforcing it.

David Seymour Takes His Embarrassing Arrogance International

Deputy Prime Minister David Seymour’s attack on United Nations Special Rapporteur Albert K. Barume is not just embarrassing — it is cowardly, dishonest, and a direct insult to Māori and the United Nations.

Special Rapporteur Barume is a highly respected United Nations dignitary, appointed by the Human Rights Council, who has written to the New Zealand government on the request of Māori leaders. His mandate is to monitor and report on the rights of Indigenous peoples. His letter to the Government followed a wave of Māori concerns expressed at United Nations forums over the past 18 months — concerns about the coalition agreement, the Treaty Principles Bill, the Regulatory Standards Bill and the consistent undermining of Māori rights on all fronts.

Barume’s concerns were not extreme nor misplaced. He echoed what Māori legal experts, Iwi leaders, constitutional scholars, organisations and submitters across the country have said in the select committee hearings this past week: that the Regulatory Standards Bill poses a credible risk to settlements, disrespects tikanga and Māori governance, marginalises Māori, and imposes monocultural standards.

Seymour’s response was to accuse Barume’s concerns as “presumptive”, “condescending”, an “affront to New Zealand sovereignty” and to suggest the UN was meddling in domestic affairs. He completely disregards the fact that commenting on human rights issues of member states is precisely what human rights rapporteurs are there to do. This is exactly how the international rule of law is upheld, through international agreements between states that are monitored by commitees and rapporteurs. Once New Zealand starts abusing those mechanisms, we lose the right to hold other nations to human rights standards, and the end result is a lawless international order.

What’s truly condescending is Seymour’s refusal to acknowledge that Māori have the right to international protection. Indigenous peoples everywhere fought for mechanisms like the UN Declaration for the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and the Special Rapporteur precisely because of colonial governments that undermine our rights while claiming to speak for us.

Seymour’s claim that Barume “misunderstands” the bill is the same tired dismissal he’s used to silence all critics of the bill — Māori and non-Māori alike. Even if it were true that the bill is broadly misunderstood – that, too would fall at the feet of the Minister responsible for socialising the bill: Seymour.

In a letter of many lowpoints, perhaps the lowest is Seymour’s invoking of his ancestry. It is commonly noted by Māori that the only time David Seymour mentions his Māori ancestry is for the purposes of deflecting criticism over his abuse of Māori. This cowardly and abhorrent weilding of ones whakapapa devalues what it is to be Māori, and is an affront to Māori across Aotearoa. Regardless of any claim to whakapapa, it remains the case that David Seymour is leading a direct legislative assault upon Māori, the likes of which has not seen or experienced in generations. Consequentially, David Seymour is commonly reviled by Māori communities across the nation, making his reference to “my fellow Māori” laughable. If he truly saw Māori as “his people” then the resounding, repeated chorus of Māori disgust at his behaviour would mean something. He has made it clear that it does not.

And let us not forget the tone Seymour himself has used in this debate. He has directed hate towards individuals and led a smear campaign that has included doxxing and violent threats. He has weaponised mental health rhetoric to mock and undermine those who oppose the bill. His hostile condescension towards people who engaged with democratic processes in good faith have been an embarrassment at a national level, and now international level. His conduct and commentary has been far more offensive than the stated concerns by Special Rapporteur Barume.

The irony is sharp. Seymour often claims to be a defender of “human rights” and “equality before the law.” Yet here he has shown contempt for the very institutions — like the Human Rights Council — tasked with developing and upholding those principles. If Seymour truly believed in the values he espouses, he would welcome scrutiny, not vilify it as meddling in national sovereignty

During the recent select committee hearings on the bill, numerous submitters raised alarm about the lasting impact of the Regulatory Standards Bill upon New Zealand’s international reputation. In my own submission I highlighted that the bill risks violating seven of the eight binding human rights agreements that New Zealand is party to, in addition to the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

It is further noteable that David Seymour, who specified that his is speaking in his capacity as Minister for Regulation — has taken it upon himself to launch an aggressive foreign policy attack on a United Nations official, while Winston Peters, the actual Minister of Foreign Affairs, has yet to comment. International correspondence of this nature, particularly when it concerns New Zealand’s reputation and human rights obligations, should fall within the remit of the Foreign Minister. Seymour’s overreach into foreign affairs not only undermines ministerial boundaries, but risks dragging New Zealand’s international standing through the mud on Peters’ watch. While there have been numerous mentions of the “tail waggging the dog” in this coalition government, that has largely been directed towards a feckless Luxon. What we are apparently now seeing is Seymour also assuming the right to sideline his other coalition partner Peters as the Foreign Affairs Minister. His inflammatory rhetoric, directed at a UN-appointed official, stomps right over diplomatic decorum and makes New Zealand look defensive and hostile to international oversight.

Barume was absolutely right to question the coalition agreement, which includes commitments that could only be fulfilled through the erosion of Indigenous, human and environmental rights — including the promise to reject UNDRIP’s legal standing and the prioritisation of a bill that flies in the face of Human Rights Council recommendations. The man is doing his job.

Seymour’s letter isn’t about defending national sovereignty. It’s about avoiding accountability — to Māori, to international standards, to actual human rights, and to the truth.

New Zealanders deserve better than a minister who lashes out when faced with legitimate concerns about human rights. The world is watching. Seymour may not welcome external scrutiny — but he cannot escape it, and there will be plenty more of it.

Brief of Evidence – Mana Wāhine Inquiry. Mana Wāhine and the Doctrine of Discovery

Kia Ora e te whānau – Attached is my written Brief of Evidence for the Waitangi Tribunal, which looks at the Doctrine of Discovery as a driver of colonial misogyny experienced by wāhine taketake and therefore wāhine Māori.

My spoken evidence is available here. Please be aware, the spoken evidence is raw, and may require processes of tuku to process.

Toitū te whenua tapu
Toitū te Tiriti o Waitangi

2025.05.20 BOE – T NgataDownload

Submissions for a Snap Election – How the Regulatory Standards Bill Could Crack the Coalition

GUEST POST – TANIA WAIKATO

Are you sick of the coalition of chaos?

Today David Seymour ascends to Deputy Prime Minister in the second half of a term of government that has done more damage to race relations in this country than any other in living history. But it’s not just Māori who are under fire from the seemingly never-ending obsession to serve corporations instead of the people. It’s everyone who isn’t wealthy.

From cutting pay equity for women and funding for disabled support, to handing out tax cuts to people that own more than one house and reviving a once destined for death tobacco industry, you really have to ask – who does this government truly serve?

The Regulatory Standards Bill is an ugly name for an ugly Bill. But the opportunity that this piece of attempted constitutional vandalism by David Seymour and the ACT party represents to potentially crack this coalition wide open is one that anyone who doesn’t want David Seymour running this country permanently should grab with both hands – because we only have a fleeting window until the 23 of June to do it.

Am I talking about a snap election? Absolutely. How? Let me explain.

The coalition agreements that birthed the current legislative monstrosity included an agreement to pass “a” Regulatory Standards Act “as soon as practicable”. This Bill has been on the ACT party’s Christmas wish list for more than twenty years and has been voted down on the three previous attempts to pass it. On the most recent attempt in 2021, the Regulatory Standards Bill was blocked by an unhappy Treasury, who knew that the provisions that will allow for companies to sue the government if they pass laws infringing their property rights could bankrupt our country. Yes, you heard me correctly. The current Regulatory Standards Bill could wind up giving your hard- earned taxpayer dollars to multibillion dollar corporations. Sound like a bad idea? Treasury used to think so too.

But now both National and NZ First have agreed to let this ultimate restraint on the independence of Parliament and dog collar to the might of overseas foreign interests be strapped around the neck of the Beehive. Or have they?

The day immediately following our Toitū te Tiriti Waitangi Tribunal hearing into the Regulatory Standards Bill on 14 May — which found that the Crown had breached the Treaty Principles by failing to consult with Māori on this Bill due to its constitutional significance — Newsroom released a story quoting NZ First leader, Winston Peters:

“Winston Peters has revealed New Zealand First is seeking changes to Act leader David Seymour’s controversial Regulatory Standards Bill, describing the law as “a work in progress”. Peters’ remarks come despite his party’s obligation to support the law through its coalition agreement with National.

However, asked by Newsroom on Thursday whether New Zealand First was fully supportive of the Regulatory Standards Bill, Peters said: “Put it this way: it is a work in progress still, substantially.” Peters confirmed his party was seeking changes to the bill but did not explain what those were, saying they would be shared “in due course as those changes are made”.

In further comments after Question Time, he said he was confident the law would be drafted in such a way that New Zealand First could support it, but did not say what would happen if that was not the case.”

Well let’s talk about what might happen, if that is not the case. And more to the point, let’s talk about what might happen if there is an almighty backlash of submissions in opposition made on this dangerous Bill over the next three weeks on a similar scale to the 300,000 submissions made on David Seymour’s most recent project – the Treaty Principles Bill.

In a brilliant article published this week in The Post, former Green Party leader Russell Norman took us all on a stroll down memory lane to remind us (and Winston Peters) that it was less than a decade ago that NZ First introduced the “Fighting Foreign Corporate Control Bill” that aimed to stop the exact disaster that the Regulatory Standards Bill now seeks to create – allowing powerful multinational companies to sue the government for compensation whenever a new law affects their “property” rights. Russell wrote:

“NZ First still maintains it will ensure “that the government always serves in the interests of all New Zealanders”. But this bill tries to redefine our constitutional and legal order so it serves corporate interests instead of New Zealanders.

NZ First has the power to stop it. Winston became famous for helping to end the new right revolution of the 1980s and 90s, it would be a shame if he ended his career dancing to Roger Douglas’ tune.”

Winston Peters steps down today as Deputy Prime Minister, having served the full first-half of the Coalition government’s term in order to make way for David Seymour to have his turn as second in command. But anyone who is old enough to remember why Winston Peters was dubbed the “King-Maker” after holding the balance of power to create a position for himself as Deputy Prime Minister under both a National-led and Labour-led coalition government will know this. Winston has a plan. Winston always has a plan.

And whether that plan includes cutting David Seymour’s reign as Deputy Prime Minister short in order to honour the long-held roots of the NZ First party that pledged to always put New Zealanders first by blocking the Regulatory Standards Bill, and causing a snap election remains to be seen. All I can tell you is this. If you make a submission against the Regulatory Standards Bill, it just might.

A Prayer for the Coloniser

Franz Fanon said that the first victim of colonial violence is the colonial mind itself. For it must first excise itself of its most precious gifts of humanity: compassion, empathy, and love beyond oneself – in order to dehumanise others.

I thought about him a lot as I drove through the French countryside, approaching the Alps. I went there, on my way to Geneva, to connect with their taiao – because in my experience, if you really want to understand a people, you go to their taiao.  As the townships and farmlands gave way to rocky cliffs, marked with cascading water falling from great heights, it reminded me of Piopiotahi, and another conversation from my past came to the forefront of my consciousness.

Some years ago I was meeting with Chief Arvol Looking Horse, 19th Generation Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe, and Spiritual Leader of the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Oyate, known as the Great Sioux Nation. I was interviewing him about the Doctrine of Discovery in his loungeroom. I had a conundrum to place before him.

“We want a peaceful resolution to all of this, right?”

“Mhmm”

“At the same time, power doesn’t cede itself, does it?”

“No”

“How do we reconcile that?”

His response was solemn, but calm and resolute:

“We must pray for the colonizer”

I nodded, but inside, I recoiled. How could I carry what I know about colonialism and what it has done and still does to our peoples, to all Indigenous peoples, and to our Ātua, and to our planet, and find it within myself to offer a prayer for them?

I left with immense respect for his own spiritual strength. I knew he meant it with his whole heart but I clocked it up to something I could never do, and that I would leave for them, with their grace and spiritual fortitude, to do for us all.

That was before Trump, before Covid, before QAnon and the March 15th  attacks. Before the Coalition of Chaos and the attack upon our Treaty.

Before the world went into colonial hyperdrive.

These days I teach about the Doctrine of Discovery, and in all workshops I center the theme of sacredness. I speak to the importance of denying sacredness in order to turn land, water and people into commodities. I speak to the importance of restoring Indigenous sacredness as a response to the harm of the Doctrine. I speak to the Great Killing of the Americas, where so many sources of CO2 were taken from the Earth eco-system over a short period that it caused a climate disruption, a mini ice-age in northern Europe, which was mistaken as witchcraft in many villages, and led to women healers and midwives, those who retained the remaining vestiges of the sacred connection to nature in northern Europe, being killed en-masse.

And so now in 2025 I found myself driving through the European countryside, seeing the ancient walls of rock, the ice, the waterfalls. I thought of a talk I had with my Nan a long time ago about waterfalls… she’d said that one thing about waterfalls is that if you sit by them when you’re angry, no matter how angry you are, they will continue to just do what they have always done – flow. They will outlast your rage, calm you, and they will simply keep falling long after you’ve stopped being upset.

There was a permanence in that sharing, at that time. Except today – today – water is starting to dry up, and its no longer a given that the water will fall. I don’t think she ever thought that day would come. I don’t think I ever thought it would either, but here we are, and now the waterfall also needs us to pray.

I knew at that moment that when we arrived to our destination in the Alps, I would say a prayer. At the very least, from my mountain to theirs. From my ancestors to theirs. If not for the colonial brutes, then at the very least, for the healers, the midwives, those who held sacredness in relationship to nature. Before Nicaea, before Constantine, before the Vatican, before sacredness became attached to a vestige of a European man adorned in riches extracted from Papatuanuku.

We ascended the Alps, above Chamonix, and the view of the township gave way to frosted forests, which gave way to stunning blue sky and snowy mountain peaks, which gave way to even more snowy clouds, and huge rocky outcrops and we arrived on the upper slopes of Aiguille-du-Midi.

There was zero visibility, and that’s ok, I wasn’t there for the view. I was there to meet with their Ātua taiao. There, on the heights of Aiguilles-du-Midi, on the Mont Blanc range of the French Alps, I welcomed the snow, the wind, all of the elements. I acknowledged the ancient power of that place, the forces of nature which still held ultimate dominance even though it had been built upon and commodified by man. I knew that even if all that remains is a smouldering ember of a connection to sacred taiao, then it can again be restored. If that sacredness was still there, it was still in their mokopuna as well. It gave me hope, for them.

The following week was spent in Geneva at the Human Rights Council, and as is always the case, I listened to case, after case, after case of extreme human rights abuses against men, women, children. Against health practitioners, storytellers, human rights protectors. I watched power and rage contort itself into righteousness, as member states defended themselves… and I thought about another thought leader, and consciousness-diver, Ta-Nehisi Coates, who more recently reflected on the way in which harm begets harm, and how a disregard for human life can create more disregard for human life.

I really want you to watch this, because he says it so powerfully – in the interview, Ta-Nehisi Coates challenges us all to consider at what point do we give ourselves permission to strip someone else of their sacredness, and carry out harm.

For weeks, I have pondered over this point. At what point, in the dehumanisation, the degradation, the unrelenting harm, do we permit ourselves to visit that harm upon others, in the pursuit of our liberation. I sat in the United Nations and watched, for yet another year, as organisations, peoples, communities, and member states traded stories of righteousness, entitlement, condemnation and harm. I watched, yet again, as rights defenders like me tried to navigate our own trauma, our own wounds of distrust, and wondered… At what point do we undermine even our own because we have lost faith in each other as humans, or even as brothers and sisters in the same fight? At what point do we hoard power, because we think we know best?

At what point do we allow ourselves to become colonisers?

I want to be clear here, I include myself in this query. Like everyone I was observing, I have my people I trust, and those I don’t. I’m keenly aware that we need to be discerning, and strategic, but I’m also aware that this, too, can tip over into harm, and that we can sometimes, in the snowstorm, we can lose visibility of our humanity.

My mind again returned to Pāpā Arvol’s words: we need to pray for the coloniser. It took me nearly ten years to gain visibility, but I could finally see it. I didn’t have to hug them, I didn’t have to condone their behaviour, but I did need to dig deep, and pray for the end of colonialism, everywhere, in every heart and mind– and that meant praying for the coloniser. In that moment, up on their maunga, I also knew which prayer I would invoke. A karakia composed by Nuki Tākao that would invoke a re-weaving of the sacredness of each individual.

On the Thursday, we gathered as Indigenous mokopuna, all of us, to pray. We stood in a circle on the grounds of the United Nations, that belly of imperial powers, and smudged together, and offered our prayers. We were led by Aunty Charmaine White Face, spokesperson for the 1894 Sioux Nation Treaty Council.

I removed my shoes so I could feel the soil beneath my feet, and thought of that sacred place atop their mountains, and connect my prayer to that prayer.

I prayed for the coloniser

to weave themselves back into the sacredness of their own taiao

to restore the sacredness of their own humanity

and in doing so, once again uplift the sacredness

of all people

and skies

and lands

and waters

I prayed for the ember of sacredness,

still embedded in the heights of their mountains

to come alight, once more

in every colonial consciousness.

I prayed for the withered, dried colonial heart

To receive sacred glacial water once more

Before they run out

To soften, to grow plump,

and pulse, full of life and love once more.

I prayed for colonial walls to come down

Both walls around people

And walls around hearts and minds

I prayed for colonisers

To find their way home once more

To their ukaipō

The breast that feeds them in the night

To their kurawaka

The sacred soils that forged their ancestors

I prayed for the coloniser to recover their sacredness

And hold tight to it, hold tight like it was their last connection to life, and everything good

Because it is.

I prayed for the coloniser in them,

And in doing so, I prayed for the coloniser in myself.

Ko te whiri, ko te whatu, ko te whakairo

Nau mai e Hine haramai e Hine ki te whare pōrā

Ko te whenua, ko te whakatipu, ko te whānautanga mai

Nau mai e Hine haramai e Hine ki te whare tangata

Whakawaioratia te manawa kōpiri

Whakahokia mai te tapu o Ueuenuku o Ueuerangi

o ngā wai whakaheke, o ngā wai koopu

o ngā mokopuna, o ngā tuhi māreikura

o ngā tiriti kua takea mai i Kurawaka

Kia toitū ai te whenua

Kia toitū ai te moana

Kia toitū ai te mana motuhake o ngā iwi taketake o te ao

Kia whiri, whiria kia tina, tina

Haumi e, hui e, taiki e.

Public Statement on the Unauthorised Use and Censorship of Our Work

As a collective of artists and movement leaders, we are gravely disappointed to be making this public statement.

We have spent the past three weeks attempting to address a serious violation of our rights and principles in private, within the bounds of tikanga, only to be met with deflection, minimisation, silence and evasion. The harm caused by the unauthorised use of our work and the subsequent censorship within the National Gallery of Australia demands accountability, and we can no longer allow this issue to remain unaddressed.

Nine months ago copyright artwork of Robyn Kahukiwa, used as the trademark copyright image for Kia Mau, was taken without consent and incorporated into an installation piece exhibited in the National Gallery of Australia by the Savāge K’lub art collective, under the leadership of Rosanna Raymond. At no point were we asked for permission, nor would we have given it under the conditions in which it was displayed. The unauthorised use of our work was harmful in itself, but the situation was further compounded when the gallery, deeming a Palestinian flag in the installation a political risk, ordered it to be covered. The installation artists complied with this censorship, and in doing so, placed Robyn’s stolen image directly adjacent to the covered flag, creating the false impression that we endorsed both the censorship and the installation itself. We only learned of this months later, when the media reported on the gallery’s decision to cover the flag.

In all of the statements made by the gallery, and Rosanna, it is inferred that the “artists” in question are Rosanna Raymond and the Savāge K’lub. Rosanna Raymond featured and wrote for Australian art publications over those nine months as both the curator and artist. It is not once mentioned that the art for this installation is actually sourced from other artists. All of the public statements made by Rosanna have invisibilised the actual artists on whose behalf she made the decision to capitulate to the gallery. Rosanna has also offensively referred to the art as a “by-product” of her relationship with the gallery, a relationship which was prioritised over standing in solidarity with Palestinians and doing the right thing by the actual artists.


Upon discovering Robyn’s work had been stolen and misrepresented, we sought an explanation directly from The Savāge K’lub, and agreed to meet. In the meeting, they admitted fault, apologised profusely, claimed that it was down to being foolhardy and rushed, and promised urgent and immediate accountability. These statements left us with the false impression that it was a recent event. We insisted that the restorative pathway center the Palestinian community (whilst also including us and addressing our concerns) and recommended they reach out to them. The Savāge K’lub agreed to this, however they failed to disclose that the installation had been on display and censored for nine months at that point, before media attention pushed the issue into the broader public sphere and to our attention. This belies any excuse that we were not engaged was because the Savāge K’lub were “rushed”. We discussed the tapu of toi Māori, explained the importance of Robyn’s artwork, and the role that image played in protecting our movement from attacks, it is not just a shirt decoration. We also made it very clear that we found Rosanna’s statements in the media regarding their decision to capitulate to the gallery to be misleading, and unhelpful.

In the meeting, the Savāge K’lub also committed to a restorative process with us—one that has never materialised.

Savāge K’lub leaders have said that the Savāge K’lub will take collective responsibility. While we can respect that request, we feel strongly that as the leader of Savāge Klub, as the lead curator of the exhibition, as the media lead for the exhibition, and as a senior artist, Rosanna Raymond carries the bulk of responsibility.

Subsequent investigations revealed that this was not the first time the Savāge K’lub had stolen work from other artists, nor was it the first time they had made empty promises to correct their behaviour. It was shared with us that in 2022 the same installation was exhibited under the name of the Savāge Klub in England, and they were called out by artist Sarah Hudson who found out on social media that their work was included in the installation, without consent or credit. When queried, the exact same profuse apology, blame of being foolhardy and rushed, and commitment to not do this again was made to Sarah. Following Sarah’s information we found that Robyn’s Kia Mau image was also used in the 2022 exhibition, a fact that was also not disclosed in the earlier hui. It was this same artwork, called out in 2022 by Sarah Hudson as appropriated, that the Savāge K’lub then installed in the National Gallery of Australia in June 2024, again without seeking consent of the relevant, original artists.

From the 2022 Savāge K’lub exhibition in Birmingham, source: Savāge K’lub instagram

It was also subsequently discovered that at least one other well-known and respected artist – Melanie Tangaere Baldwin – had her work included (also flanking the covered flag of Palestine) in the 2024-2025 National Gallery of Australia installation without her consent or knowledge. It then came to light that not only was this artwork fraudulently exhibited as the work of the SaVĀge K’lub, but they also accepted payment from the gallery for it, and withheld payment that should rightfully go to Robyn. None of this was information volunteered by the SaVĀge K’lub.

by Melanie Tangaere Baldwin

A written apology was later privately issued to Kia Mau and Robyn, but it was inadequate, downplaying what happened as a mere “failure to seek consent” rather than the theft and misrepresentation that it was. It did not address the intentionality that has become very clear by the fact that they reinstalled this artwork with full knowledge that consent should have been sought. We raised with the Savāge K’lub that we were, at that point, aware of much more information that had not been disclosed in the hui, which undermined our confidence in the process, belied the excuses that were offered, and suggested a greater level of intentionality. We explained that we could not accept the apology in its current form and insisted on full accountability, including public recognition of the harm done. We further asked to be connected to the Palestinian community. In response, Rosanna framed our concerns as accusations and ceased communication.

To be clear: We stand unequivocally in solidarity with Palestine. We would never have agreed to participate in an exhibition where our work was used to flank and legitimise the erasure of a Palestinian flag. The theft of our work not only violated copyright but also put the integrity of our movement at risk, misrepresenting our stance and undermining the very solidarity we hold with our Palestinian brothers and sisters.

We were assured by the Savāge K’lub that their statement and response at the closure of the exhibition would include and address “any and all misplaced relational/ reputational damage for you, and any other artists impacted by this mistake”. We responded by again requesting to be included in this process that is also about us, and requesting, for a third time, to be connected to the Palestinian community so that we could convey our distress and solidarity directly to them rather than through the SaVĀge K’lub. After this third request we were finally put in contact with the Palestinian community to complete that step.

We also emailed the National Gallery of Australia requesting that the work be removed immediately, and an apology issued. This has received no response.

We wish to make it clear that the statement and process undertaken on the weekend at the National Gallery of Australia was developed through a process that has excluded us as affected artists and activists. This is supremely ironic, given the issue is bound up in one of exclusion to begin with.

The Apology Event at the National Gallery of Australia

For us, as affected artists and activists, we consider the actions taken at the exhibition closure to be insincere and insufficient. The Director Nick Mitzevich centered art over human rights and property rights, framing art as the victim, and even framing himself as a victim who is apparently put into a difficult position of having to “balance” the gallery’s artistic interests against actual human rights interests. Rosanna made impassioned statements about seeing and hearing Indigenous people who have lost land and culture, even as she invisibilised us as victims of cultural theft, and herself as the lead perpetrator of said theft. She acknowledged it was important to take accountability for the decisions made in relation to the censorship, but completely ignored the fact that the censorship involved stolen work, thereby evading accountability. Incredibly, both Raymond and Mitzevich repeated the line “art is the answer” even as the gallery has refused to answer our email regarding the theft of copyright.

To Nick Mitzevich we say: Your actions and statement lack integrity. Were you real about wanting to engage in this discussion, you would have responded to our email. Art is not the answer. Human rights, honesty and dignity is the answer. Answering us when we email you is also an answer.

Both Nick and Rosanna consistently thanked each other for standing together as artists and gallery even in their difference. All of the references to “the artists” infer the SaVĀge K’lub alone, and not the artists from whom SaVĀge K’lub took in order to make the installation. At the very end of their statement, there is a vague, and very brief, acknowledgement that the SaVĀge K’lub “caused hurt”to some members of their own community, including Kia Mau, Robyn Kahukiwa and Melanie Tangere-Baldwin – but it does not say how we were hurt, it does not even allude to the issue of consent, let alone theft.

Rosanna Raymond made reference to media generated about this that “feeds the beast by taking words and twisting them up” – completely obscuring the fact that the vast majority of the media generated about this has been dominated by Rosanna’s statements and writings. It further ignores the agency that the SaVĀge K’lub exercised, and the fraudulent positioning of the SaVĀge K’lub as the rights holders over that artwork and victims of the gallery. It further ignores the fact that this particular installation has included stolen art since 2022, does not name Sarah Hudson as one of the artists also taken from.

We were very clear with the SaVĀge K’lub from the outset that an apology which does not correctly name the harm is not sufficient and does not amount to being accountable. Accordingly, we reject this as an act of contrition or healing.

We are making this statement publicly because private avenues have been exhausted and abused. We cannot allow this pattern of exploitation and theft to continue unchecked, nor can we allow our stolen work to be used in ways that distort our values. Solidarity cannot be at the expense of the integrity of our narrative. We have no way of knowing how many other times, or to whom else, this may have happened. Other artists and activists deserve to know the truth and to be protected from similar violations.

We call for:

  • Full accountability from the Savāge K’lub and Rosanna Raymond
  • Public acknowledgment of the theft (both in 2022 and 2024) and its consequences
  • Public acknowledgement of the disrespect shown towards the artists in media and at the closure event, and towards the attempted restorative process which was bound in tikanga
  • Meaningful action to meet the promises made for an inclusive restorative process and to ensure this does not happen again.
  • Money earned by the inclusion of this artwork (in both 2022 and 2024) be shared amongst the rightful artists, and the Palestinian community.

Furthermore, we call upon the National Gallery of Australia to take responsibility and apologise for exhibiting stolen work and its complicity in the political censorship of Palestine.

Cultural appropriation of our moana region has, throughout time, contributed to sexual and physical violence towards Indigenous peoples and Indigenous women – it has always been inextricably linked to the stripping of sacredness. Cultural appropriation of toi Māori practices, and particularly from wāhine Māori, is unacceptable. Further more, our tikanga is there to protect tapu, not to cloak the violation of tapu. We expect more of our own, and consider it our responsibility to actively protect the integrity and dignity of our art, and our narrative, alongside the integrity and dignity of our Indigenous relations. If art is not centering human rights, and Indigenous rights, then it is colonising.

Solidarity is not selective, and cannot come at the cost of integrity. Theft and misrepresentation are not acceptable. Censorship in the name of political convenience is not neutrality—all of these actions are a choice. We reject these actions in their entirety and stand firm in our commitment to justice, integrity, and unwavering solidarity with Palestine and all oppressed peoples.

Tina Ngata, Robyn Kahukiwa, Melanie Tangaere-Baldwin, Sina Brown-Davis, Sarah Hudson, Kauae Raro Research Collective.

Turning Capitalism Against Itself

Yes, we’re now in a fully fledged, open, brazen plutocracy, where the wealthy govern. Many of us are aware that this has long been the case, but the difference now, is that it’s becoming much more visible. That doesn’t mean we have no power. It means we have to get real about how power operates under a plutocracy, as opposed to a democracy – and resist accordingly.

It’s now common knowledge that global and domestic wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few, corporations wield more power than nations, and have more democratic weight than citizens. In a world where profit often outweighs people and planet, resistance can at times seem overwhelming and futile. This week, George Monbiot released a scathing situation report of the matter, outlining what many of us have been discussing for years now in a succinct and powerful statement: The billionaires have stepped out of the shadows. They are no longer governing from the back rooms, but brazenly from the front, and the age of plutocracy – where the world is governed by the wealthy – is well and truly upon us.

Interestingly, what Monbiot outlines here as the solution, is pretty much tino rangatiratanga. Community level (hapū level) self-determination, and as I discussed in my previous post – hyper-localised economies, including non-monetary economies.

This is all important, dare I say crucial work right now. The Age of Capitalist Empire is fast spinning out of control, with new crises appearing more frequently. In the inevitable mega-crash, those who have practiced their self-determination and prepared their economic safety nets, will fare the best.

In addition to harm mitigation, however, we also have economic tools to fight back. Today we’re going to look at those tools, and then consider how that might work for New Zealand’s own plutocracy of business interests behind the current government.

Understanding Economic Resistance

History shows us that economic resistance—through boycotts, divestment, and sanctions (BDS)—has been a powerful tool for oppressed groups to challenge the status quo and reclaim agency. These strategies disrupt the economic foundations of the wealthy elite who dominate political and social systems.

Black text on beige background. WTF is BDS? BDS stands for “Boycotts, Divestments and Sanctions” and are a collective form of economic resistance to corporate power. Boycotts: Voting with Our Wallets Boycotts involve refusing to buy products or services from companies engaged in unethical practices. They send a clear message: profit cannot come at the expense of people and the planet. In Aotearoa, we remember the 1981 anti-apartheid protests, where boycotts against South African goods were a powerful statement of solidarity with Black South Africans. Today, movements like the Palestinian BDS campaign call for similar solidarity against corporations complicit in human rights abuses. Divestment: Shifting the Flow of Wealth Divestment targets the flow of money that sustains unethical industries. By pulling investments from fossil fuels, arms manufacturers, or companies violating Indigenous rights, institutions like universities, banks, and pension funds can weaken the financial base of destructive corporations. The global divestment movement has already pulled billions from fossil fuel industries, highlighting the potential to undermine harmful sectors. Sanctions: Collective Pressure for Change Sanctions, typically imposed by governments, can also be leveraged by communities to apply collective pressure on corporations. Through public shaming, legal action, or international advocacy, sanctions disrupt the social and political legitimacy of corporate giants. When combined with boycotts and divestment, sanctions can isolate unethical companies, compelling them to change practices or risk collapse.

Economic resistance is not new. From the Montgomery Bus Boycott that ignited the Civil Rights Movement in the U.S., to the international boycott of apartheid South Africa, communities have long understood the power of the dollar. By strategically withholding economic support, resistance movements have hit oppressive systems at their most vulnerable point: their profit margins.

The effectiveness of boycotts, divestment, and sanctions is evident in the fear they provoke among corporations and plutocrats. They understand that the collective power of consumers, investors, and communities can dismantle economic empires. Our choices—where we spend, where we invest, and who we support—shape the world we live in.

The most well known economic resistance movement today has to be the BDS movement against Israel, initiated in 2005, which aims to pressure Israel to comply with international law, end their genocide, deoccupy Palestine and respect Palestinian rights. Its impact has been multifaceted:

According to a UN report, BDS was a key factor behind a 46% drop in foreign direct investment into Israel in 2014 compared to 2013. The World Bank partially attributed a 24% drop in Palestinian imports from Israel to the boycott. Reports by the Israeli government and the Rand Corporation have predicted that BDS could cost the Israeli economy billions of dollars. It has caused Starbucks to close branches and although it is not on the official BDS list, voluntary BDS in Malaysia led to USD 15.1 million over the last six months of 2024. Globally, Starbucks sales have decreased for four consecutive quarters, with a worldwide profit loss of 23% in 2023.

McDonalds is on the official list and took the unusual step of admitting that the BDS movement has delivered a “meaningful hit to business”, having lost over $7billion dollars in revenue.

Standing Rock

The Standing Rock Lakota Dakota Nakota Nation’s resistance campaignagainst the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) is a poignant example of economic resistance.

Inspired by BDS strategies, the Standing Rock campaign launched divestment campaigns targeting banks, insurance agencies and corporations from funding and insuring the DAPL. These efforts led institutions like the City of Seattle to withdraw $3 billion in investments from banks financing the pipeline, with Los Angeles and Philadelphia soon following, showcasing the power of economic pressure in environmental and Indigenous rights advocacy.

Petrobras and Statoil

Here in Aotearoa, iwi and public opposition to oil and gas has resulted in widespread campaigns which have included procedural resistance (eg opposing and holding up every single consent application, derailing every public gathering, and disrupting every single step of the process possible – as our Apanui relations call it – the “mosquito strategy”), and approach which blew out project costs and contributed to the worst reported loss for 13 years for Petrobras. Eventually both Petrobras and Statoil handed back their exploration permits to opt for less troublesome sites.  

It’s important to note that the New Zealand government makes significant money just out of the exploration permit process, charging per square kilometer, and while this government has lifted the offshore drilling ban, courting oil and gas back, both the Green Party and Te Paati Māori have recently pledged to reinstating the ban and placing every barrier possible in front of corporations both from the current opposition benches and in any potential future government.

Economic Resistance to the Current New Zealand Government

As has been noted, numerous times, New Zealand is now thoroughly in the grasp of the global far-right. Corporate interests both here and overseas bankrolled the most far-right government in living history, and their orders were clear: remove the barriers to extraction, and entrench neoliberal, corporate power. Their pup David Seymour has wasted no time, and the coalition agreement upon which this government was formed, was pretty much a shopping list of deregulation.

It bears restating: donors do not just donate money then sit back and let parties do what they want. Donations come with access. They come with private meetings, dinner parties, and MPs on quickdial who will pick up the phone.

So who are the corporations that are behind this government? Well thankfully this information is very easy to find out. The New Zealand elections site lists the donors for each political party.

ACT-Annual-Return-2023 (1)Download
NZ-First-donations-return-amended-050624Download
National-Party-Annual-Return-2023Download

And what can these sheets tell us about the major donors to this government. Well we can look at that a number of ways, but probably the simplest way is to look at who has donated the most.  Unsurprisingly, the top of that list are associated to each other, and the Atlas Network. Property developers dominate the top 10 list, including separated wife of property developer Alan Gibbs, Dame Jenny Gibbs. The Gibbs family (who include chair of the Atlas Network Debbi Gibbs) have long been ACT supporters and donors. Alan Gibbs is a major stakeholder in the Auckland Viaduct, along with Mark Wyborn and Trevor Farmer, who also feature highly on the list.

The Huljich family feature quite highly as well, donating $100k each to National and ACT.

We have Nick Mowbray, owner of Zuru Toys, donating $150k to ACT alone. Seeing children as a profit source might be why he’s ok with how David Seymour has downgraded school lunches:

Here is the full list of Zuru brand toys

Nick is also quite vocal about his opposition to wealth tax and welfare expenditure, but of course it’s the healthy school lunch advocates who are whiny losers with their hands out.

The top two donors though, are of particular interest.

The largest single party donor is Warren Lewis, who donated $500k to the National Party. Warren is in the building solutions company, owning FMI building innovations, who produce materials (glass and prefab) and accessories for the building industry.

The largest cross-party donor for this coalition is billionaire Graeme Hart. Graeme owns Walter and Wild, a holding company specialising in New Zealand food brands including Alfa One, Aunties, Aunt Betty’s, Greggs, Hansells, Hubbards, I Love, Thriftee, Teza, F. Whitlock & Sons and Vitafresh.

Now, of course, given that Graeme Hart has underwritten the coalition of chaos you could understand not wanting to chow down on a bowl of Hubbards muesli, and I certainly don’t want to give them even one penny – but an impactful consumer boycott strategy needs to be coordinated, strategic and at scale in order to be effective. Certainly a coordinated boycott movement deserves a discussion – but let’s not forget the power of the Māori economy. By that, I don’t mean the Māori economy of every day workers – I mean the Māori corporate economy. Graeme Hart also owns Carter Holt Harvey, and it’s subsidiaries Carters Building Supplies, Futurebuild, Shadowclad, Ecoply, Laserframe, Pinex, and Handiply. Iwi holdings companies, and corporations are major players in the New Zealand economy, and in particular, in the housing and building sectors. The Māori economy is estimated to be in the region of $70billionNZD, and is growing faster than the New Zealand economy. While construction growth in New Zealand has slowed since mid-2022 due to cost pressures and economic constraints – the share of Māori owned construction businesses, along with Māori housing initiatives and projects, have increased.

Arguably the most powerful economic message we could send, may well be through our hapū, to our iwi corporates, to step up and protect Te Tiriti through our economic portfolios and partnerships. It simply wasn’t good enough that the Māori corporate sector stood by and conducted business as usual while working class Māori, up and down the nation, marched in support of te Tiriti. Maybe its time our own corporates stop hiding in the shadows, picked up the damn teatowel, and got with the kaupapa.

Economic resistance has two faces, preparing anti-capitalist safety nets for your community with alternative economies, and consciously using your dollar to strike back at the system. This week (28Feb) another wave will take place…

and as Steven King puts it:

The plutocrats do not care about tikanga. They don’t even care about fairness or democracy. They don’t care about the non-wealthy and frankly we should not care for the plutocrats either. But if you want to send them a message, then that is the language they understand.

The Futility of Trying to Capitalism Our Way out of Colonialism.

A few reflections on economy, capitalism, and Indigenous liberation.

Let us start with a broad position statement: Colonisation is an economic project. I say that in light of the first Doctrine of Discovery papal laws being a means to an end: for Europeans to break into the Saharan slave trade.

I say that in light of the text of those laws specifically being to dispossess Indigenous peoples of material and immaterial goods, and to commit our bodies to perpetual slavery – for the purpose of profit.

I say that in light of these papal bulls initiating the European, and Trans-Atlantic slave trades.

I say that in light of the resulting project being one that turned land, water, all goods, and even human bodies into commodities for trade and consumption, and how this necessitated the removal of their sacredness and humanity.

I say that in light of how colonial narratives have intentionally indoctrinated entire societies into believing that European economies are innately superior, and more rational, than Indigenous economies.

I say that in light of the fact that all colonial governments were established as institutions to secure perpetual rights of extraction from lands, waters and bodies based on the above principles.

I say that in light of how colonial economic privilege shapes transnational institutions such as the Bretton Woods system (World Bank, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organisation etc) and the United Nations – and the levers of power within them.

I say that in light of how our racialised global economy has placed the necessary resource to purchase political power in the hands of intergenerational colonisers, who then purchase political favours to maintain that oppressive power.

I say that in light of how the Doctrine of Discovery provided the backdrop to a global economy premised upon two permitted harms: Slavery and Indigenous dispossession.

I say that in light of the fact that the economic underpinnings of colonial racism make it an extremely entrenched form of colonialism. This sits behind the classic colonial myth that Indigenous justice (eg landback and constitutional reform) would cause broad economic instability.

Colonisation has never been power for power’s sake alone. It has always been about securing permanent access to our lands, waters, bodies and all we possess – both material and immaterial. This was very bad news for me when the realisation emerged. Me, who felt my eyeballs bleed when the financial news would show up on the television and eyes glazed over at the sight of currency charts and my brain tuned out at the mention of NASDAQ and the greenback. I had always equated economy with banks, money, currency and numbers. It was through Indigenous learnings that I came to appreciate economy as simply a network of wealth. That the “wealth” needn’t be money, but could be abundant lands and waters, and quality of life with those you love, and the “network” needn’t be a one-way vertical hierarchy, but could be circular, webbed, and nourishing. Understanding economy in a much more pure, simple sense as the ways in which we care and provide for ourselves and each other (both human and non-human) made economy much more engaging for me. Then, learning the story of our economy through the Doctrine of Discovery took it from a mind-numbing drone about the NASDAQ to an epic, enduring global tale of bloodshed, fortitude, and love in the face of extreme injustice.

Learning about colonial economics, the most obvious aspect of which is capitalism, has therefore been central to understanding colonialism, both in its early days in European hands, but also in more recent times as it has become an assumed permanent fixture, even in very recently colonized societies like Te Ao Māori. We could absolutely write a book about economic colonialism (and I’ll attach some recommended readings below) but for now, perhaps, it’s best for us to consider whether our embrace of capitalism is, at the very least, a conscientised, informed one.

There is a lot of talk about “economic rangatiratanga” of late, particularly from the most recent hui-a-motu. Certainly, there is a lot more freedom when utilising commercial rather than state or even philanthropic funds, but it does come with a price.

As abolitionist Ruth Gilmore reminds us, there is no version of capitalism that is not racial, there is not a version of capitalism that will not exhaust the energies and resources of the human and non-human world. It. Does. Not. Exist.

So there is no “Indigenising” capitalism, just as there is no “Indigenising” parliament. There is only dismantlement and re-construction for our Hawaiiki Hou.

That doesn’t mean we can’t operate within capitalism – of course, we must. We are forced to as a part of our colonised experience, but there are a few hard truths for us to confront in order to engage in capitalism in a conscientised way.

Capitalism was born out of colonial oppression. From 1450, with the birth of the European slave trade it was an economy that permitted extreme violence, subjugation and theft. Importantly, from 1600 the principles of colonisation became the yeast for modern corporate business models, with the founding of the East India Company, the first joint-stock business whose service was literally to colonise on behalf of the British Crown, whose empire had started to expand beyond the Crown’s financial capacity to underwrite it. The privatisation of colonialism continued from that point on, with many other “companies” receiving royal assent to carry out the work of colonialism all the way through to the notorious “New Zealand Company”, which received royal assent in 1841 (the astute amongst you will note that this is one year after the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which was meant to be the agreement that would protect Māori from the activities of the New Zealand Company).

So when I say corporate imperialism mirrors classic imperialism, I’m not being cute, I’m being very real: modern corporate models are borne of colonial oppression, mingled with colonial power. Colonial power has been historically used to protect corporate extraction from Indigenous peoples’ lands, waters and bodies, and as a global structure, it still does that today. This is the very reason why colonial power structures cannot halt climate change – it simply is not geared to function in a way that limits power in favour of environmental, human or Indigenous rights. We must consider this while being courted to monetise entire ocean and land based ecosystems and submit them to a colonially-led carbon market that is, overall, failing to achieve its goal of lowering emissions.

Capitalist wealth has always been dependent upon capitalist poverty, somewhere. So capitalist success cannot be a decolonial destination. We can engage in capitalism in a way that lessens the harm, for sure, but we must be real about what that means. For instance, you can purchase Māori items, but let’s not fool ourselves that this “indigenises” capitalism. When we purchase from Māori suppliers, what we are saying is “if I must engage in the harm of capitalism, let the profits at least flow towards Māori”. If we can find a Māori provider that uses locally sourced products, uses less plastic, creates lower emissions, directs profits towards community wellbeing, well then – all the better. Every step will reduce harm, and while we are all caught up in capitalism, this is of course more preferable than investing mindlessly into markets of harm.

My hope is that this is the new horizon for the Māori economy, now that there is a wealth of Māori businesses to choose from. I’m genuinely hoping that now we have the luxury of choice, as Māori consumers, we will start directing our dollars towards Māori business owners who are conscious of their business impact upon the planet and the underclass upon whose oppression capitalism rests. People will no doubt argue that this already exists, that the Māori economy is already one that revolutionises capitalism. I would point those people to this research by journalist Max Rashbrooke, which highlights the fact that the wealth-poverty gap within Te Ao Māori has increased in tandem with the growth of the Māori economy, and now rests at 2-3 times the size of the wealth-poverty gap between Māori and Pākeha. So even when embraced by Māori, capitalist wealth reproduces capitalist poverty. This is not a flaw of capitalism, it is its point. When it is replicated by the colonised, it is also the point of colonialism – for the colonised to replicate colonial systems themselves.

We must also, however, consider what alternatives there are. Just a few generations ago, there was a negligible wealth-poverty gap in Te Ao Māori. While this could be characterised as a shared experience of poverty, reflections of elders from that time indicate that there was, in spite of not having much money, stronger relationships in the community, and a greater sense of trust and cohesion in general. Interestingly, some elders reflected that when things went wrong, they were better able to address issues as a community, and there was less need to call upon the authorities. The economies that underpinned this lifestyle were not monetary economies, they were economies of sharing, of manaakitanga, of aroha, of kaitiakitanga. People would come together to plant, to harvest, to redistribute and to share kai. Such economies really can be the basis for transformation.

Reflections from elders of Matakāoa on how their economy underpinned a community of care

Under a capitalist market democracy (such as the one we currently live in), the fear of poverty is regularly used as a method of control. The most powerful display of this can be seen during elections, where various parties will throw beneficiaries under the bus, wax lyrical about Māori settlements being a drain upon the economy, and stoke fears about the cost-of-living crisis and housing crisis under their respective opposing party. They do all of this to direct votes, and acquire power.  So imagine the political power retained within your community when you remove their ability to do that. Community funds that are collectively managed from within the community, designed to support people with their housing maintenance, or to keep food on the table, or to keep the power on in times of hardship are not just materially beneficial, but politically beneficial. They allow people greater freedom to democratically participate in a way that is not driven by a fear of losing everything. Successful examples include the Sawmill Community Land Trust and the Dudley Street Neighbourhood Initiative.

You can also focus on those who are worst impacted by capitalist societies, and ensure that they are kept front and centre as the measuring stick of your progress. This will include the unhoused, and the institutionalised (in prisons or wards). Examples of this include the Tonatierra Indigenous Embassy Miltecayotl project in Phoenix, Arizona, who work with undocumented migrant farm-workers to ensure they are well supported. Another is Waitomo Papakainga Inc, who work tirelessly to extract their people out of the prison system and support their reintegration back into their community, in addition to food and housing programs. There are echoes of our ancestral distributive economic models in our systems of kōhā during tangihanga, where we all pool our funds to support the whānau pani.

@kereama.wright

#unique protocol in Aotearoa New Zealand of collecting “koha” at a tangihanga (funeral). Tei Nohotima the extraordinaire! #culture #fy #nz

♬ original sound – Kereama Wright

And while all of this is going on, we can always work to reinvigorate our kai-based economies, but of course this also comes with protecting abundant environments, which is increasingly difficult as capitalist democracies tighten their squeeze and seek to extract and exploit more from our lands and waters.

I’m going to address the remainder in a part 2 – because it really is an essay of it’s own, and it’s one that has gathered considerable interest since Waitangi Day where I named a number of business affiliations to the ACT party’s largest donors.  Stay tuned for part 2 – fighting capitalism with its own tools.

RECOMMENDED READING:

The Financial Colonisation of Aotearoa by Catheryn Comin

The New Age of Empire by Kehinde Andrews

Inequality, A New Zealand Crisis by Max Rashbrooke

Debt: The First 5,000 Years,Updated and Expanded by David Graeber

The Economic Possibilities of Decolonisation by Matthew Scobie and Anna Sturman