2025 was transformational across multiple fronts. Not in a pleasant way, but I would argue, probably in a necessary way. Across the many battlefronts of taiao, reo, education, hauora, justice and living costs, we have battled, marched, occupied, and intervened on the streets, in front of the select committees, in international forums, in the media, in classrooms, courtrooms, offline and online. The fatigue is showing in our personal wellbeing, in our relationships, and in our movements. I think this era of national and global “colonial hyperdrive” has forced many to confront difficult truths – possibly the greatest confrontation relates to the concept that we have met over, repeatedly, in recent years: Kotahitanga.

It’s been on the nation’s lips over the past two years, and yet, heading into 2026 there appear to be more schisms than ever. Indeed, the kaupapa of Kotahitanga was led out by the Kīngitanga, and fast-forward to 2025, questions and anger hang over their focus on “Māori capitalism”; Iwi leaders have repeatedly convened over the concept, but many have been conspicuously absent from the frontline battles on bills such as MACA, the Treaty Principles Bill and the Regulatory Standards Bill. Te Paati Māori featured at the forefront of the Hīkoi mō te Tiriti, which was an incredible Kotahitanga moment in time for both Māori and Tangata Tiriti alike, yet not only has it failed to maintain that revolutionary momentum, but has struggled to hold its own infrastructure together.
We are fatigued, all of us (it’s showing in our personal health and the health of our relationships) and it is tempting to fall into despondency and scepticism about motives, but I honestly do believe that, more often than not, it simply comes down to a bunch of unexplored assumptions about who “we” are and what “we” stand for, and this is a concern I have held from the very outset of this discussion:
Kotahitanga requires a unity of purpose, and unity of purpose requires a shared understanding of the nature of the problem.
It was never said with an intention to be negative or contrary. Our differing understanding of the nature of the problem would always lead to conflict on how we should respond.
For some, the problem is party-based. They believe that simply getting out this coalition and replacing it with Labour, or even a better version of National, is the answer.
For others, the problem is that we place too much focus on government, and they have advocated for generating wealth through trade, in order to make government oversight redundant and achieve what they are calling “economic rangatiratanga”.
For others still, the problem is much broader: it is capitalism and colonial privilege. For this group, the solutions of the first two groups simply entrench the problem more deeply, and probably they throw up in their mouth a little when hearing about “Māori capitalism” and the NZ Initiatives take on “economic rangatiratanga”.
There are others still who, rather than looking at systems and parties, they look at individuals – the problem, as they see it, is David Seymour, or Christopher Luxon. Through constructing a particular person into a demon, they have a target for their rage, and it usually comes with a belief that simply removing that person is all that is required.
And yet all of these very different perspectives can meet and talk all day about Kotahitanga, and liberation of our people as if we are all on the same page about what these things mean. We’re holding the hui, and creating extravagant optics about it all, but skipping the fundamentals. Small wonder that the outputs of these hui-a-motu would be short on action points, and big on soundbites.
Added to this is the fact that colonial power thrives upon distraction: it deliberately keeps us engaged in fighting so many fires, on so many fronts, that we fail to address the arsonist, and fail to envision a different way of wielding power. We have treated the parental issue of *power* like it is just another matter alongside the multiple oppressions in the realms of reo, environment, justice, health, housing or even the cost of living. Power is not simply another realm. Power defines and shapes all other realms.
And, failing to sit in wānanga over colonial power, we have failed to reckon with how colonialism has replicated itself within power structures of te Ao Māori.
Now I acknowledge, it can feel difficult and thankless to critically examine yourself and your leadership while you are under a regime that is degrading you and your people every damn day. From this logic stems the responses of “Just get on with it” or “Stop that, you’re doing the colonisers work for them” – but critical accountability is not the same as a colonial attack. When we critically examine ourselves, it is with the intention to make ourselves better, when they do it, it is with full intention to destroy and discredit Māori as a whole. Please note, this is not because the colonial gaze matters – it is because the colonial gaze has become a very effective tool for recruiting the disenfranchised. The colonial gaze has learnt to validate our discontent and sense of betrayal by our own. The colonial gaze has become very sophisticated at legitimising and inflating our fear and distrust of each other, and the colonial gaze dominates our media narratives. This is exactly how Trump courted the working class, and how the fascist far-right secured power in Italy, and Brazil. It’s exactly how Destiny Church recruits from te Ao Māori, and exactly how we wind up with Māori zionists and Māori MAGA.

So critical examination of internal power is unescapable and necessary work for us to do. Without it, we have zero accountability and operate upon blind faith (which is exactly what results from “soundbite” outputs). That, in turn, invites corruption and empire in the front door, and once it sets up shop, it goes about putting people and processes in place to protect its role, and becomes very, very difficult to remove.
You may be reading this and thinking of a specific person or whānau. Let me hold your screen-hand and tell you – it is everywhere. I do not yet know of any iwi that doesn’t have individuals and whānau who have navigated colonial systems by securing proximity to power, and aggressively maintaining it. In nearly every case, I can tell you, they believe they are in service to their people. It starts off (and is generally defended) as “adaptation” but over time, it hardens into gatekeeping and exclusion.
The destination for this type of behaviour doesn’t have to be imagined, for many of us, it is already there, and has become normalised.
Any of these scenarios sound familiar?
- Late night phonecalls around committee members to secure “votes” on an agenda item the night before a hui.
- Charters and constitutions being amended to allow for people to stay in power.
- One particular whānau dominating trusts, committees, power roles and staff pools.
- Opportunities flowing down intergenerationally within the same whānau lines.
- Secretive and exclusionary meetings of “groups within groups”.
- Abusing “codes of conduct” within meetings to shut down reasonable dissent.
- Abusing cultural practices (eg using the reo, tikanga, or waiata) to exclude those who are culturally dispossessed.
- “Stacking” committees and trusts with loyalists to a particular cause.
- Lack of communication and transparency to the collective.
- Disproportionate focus on getting individuals into roles of power rather than the liberational work for the masses.
None of this is to attack our own, but merely to point out that these behaviours extend from colonial domination, not Indigenous origins and certainly they are not geared for Indigenous liberation. They are a necessary part of the work to decolonise power.
I’m not the first person to say this, nor has this issue only appeared under this government… many (mostly wāhine) have stood up to call internal power to account. More often than not they are shouted down, ignored, or called divisive, disloyal and then isolated and excluded. Naming patriarchy, privilege, and power abuse comes with dire consequences in te Ao Māori, and this is exactly why we have to come together over it. If we are real about achieving a kotahitanga that means more than a slick social media soundbite, then we can’t keep leaving it up to individuals who call problems out and get attacked for it. We have to get a shared understanding about what it means. Our failure to critically examine our ideas and approaches to power will continue to undermine any vision of kotahitanga, treaty justice, or true liberation for all of our people.













































