Author: Tina Ngata

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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.

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:

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.

As our people march upon government to call for the honouring of our treaty, Te Tiriti o Waitangi, the words of Moana Jackson are more poignant, and powerful, than ever. Here, he reflects on how the ultimate liberation from the clutches of the Doctrine of Discovery can only happen when we have our full political authority returned. He would have been so proud of our people today xx

Others on this panel who are far more expert than I have already covered much of the history and the basic unjust illogicality of the Doctrine of Discovery. I would like to focus briefly on one part of the doctrine that is perhaps often overlooked, and then devote most of my time to what may be called an Indigenous re-discovery of our own rights, law and sovereign authority.

As I am sure many of your will know, the original meaning of the word to “discover” is “to open up to the gaze of others”. What I would like to suggest in most of this presentation is the need for Indigenous peoples not just to require that colonizing states and their agents reject the doctrine and its application, but that as indigenous peoples we re-open the ancient discourses of our ancestors and explore again how we might redefine and reclaim what our rights and authority mean.

First of all though, I would like to urge us all to remember that while the Doctrine of Discovery was always promoted in the first instance as an authority to claim the land of Indigenous peoples, there were much broader assumptions implicit in the doctrine. For to open up an indigenous land to the gaze of the colonising “other”, there is also in their view an opening up of everything that was in and of the land being claimed.

Thus, if the Doctrine of Discovery suggested a right to take control of another nation’s land, it necessarily also implied a right to take over the lives and authority of the people to whom the land belonged. It was in that sense, and remains to this day, a piece of genocidal legal magic that could, with the waving of a flag or the reciting of a proclamation, assert that the land allegedly being discovered henceforth belonged to someone else, and that the people of that land were necessarily subordinate to the colonisers. Rather like the doctrine of terra nullius or indeed the very notion in British colonising law of aboriginal title, the Doctrine of Discovery opened up the bodies and souls of indigenous peoples to a colonising gaze which only saw them as inferior, subordinate, and in fact less human than them.

At its most base, it expresses the fundamental and violent racism which has led to the oppression of millions of Indigenous peoples over the last several hundred years. It was thus more than a mere doctrine with unfortunate consequences: it was in fact, and remains to this day, a crime against humanity. And like any crime, it has had, and continues to have, many different manifestations as states continue to exercise the power to dominate which they believe the doctrine has given to them.

Sometimes it is manifest in the large and overtly violent actions of an individual state against an indigenous peoples. At other times it can be the dismissive and often petty bureaucratisation of their power.

In my view, it will therefore not be sufficient for states or churches or others who have profited from the doctrine to merely reject it in the 21st century as an unfortunate product of another time. Neither will it be sufficient for states or churches to simply apologise for its invention and use (important though that is), but rather to actively seek to undo its consequences in practical and meaningful ways.

In effect, any colonising rejection of the doctrine, any apology, will be meaningless unless wit, wisdom, and compassion is applied to a practical and proper recognition of the rights of indigenous peoples as defined by the indigenous peoples themselves. The aim should be not just to recompense for the past actions but to accept that a better and more just future for Indigenous peoples will ultimately require a restoration of the political and constitutional authority which the colonising states have so consistently sought to suppress.

Most indigenous peoples have of course long waged a struggle to deal with the costs of the purported right of discovery, and more recently have tried to protect our communities and nations from the genocide which it justified and the ongoing dispossession which it has enabled. Many other indigenous peoples, particularly in recent times, have pointed out the lack of logic in its thesis and the injustice inherent in its application. Still others have sought remedy in international forums or in domestic courts.

However, what I would like to respectfully suggest today, is that we aim for something more. For if we are to have the Doctrine of Discovery revoked by those who invented it we must also be as brave and imaginative as our ancestors and rediscover and revalidate the law and full sovereign authority which they exercised. If we able to do that, we will be discovering for ourselves once again that we have the inherent right and power to take back that which was allegedly discovered and stolen from us.

Indeed I would hope that while our states may at last find the honour and good conscience to reject the doctrine, we as indigenous peoples will also seek to rebuild the damage it has caused in ways that reflect the power and the beauty of who we are.

I do not underestimate the difficulties of that task, because the pressures of what may be called the culture of colonisation remain so intense whether it be through the continued rape and pollution of the mother Earth, or the many forces of violence still being directed at Indigenous peoples. When contemplating how we might chart our future beyond the Doctrine of Discovery, I am also aware that the process will be difficult if only because of the warning given many years ago by the African American philosopher
Frederick Douglass when he said:

“Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will.”

However, I firmly believe that we have power too, and that while the Doctrine of Discovery may have led to a practical destruction of the institutions of that power and the law which sanctioned it in all indigenous societies, the spirit and hope of that power has never died. Perhaps this seemingly narrow debate about a doctrine spawned out of hatred and greed in a place far from most of our homes, may also give us as Indigenous peoples the confidence to restate and give life to that power.

If we embark on that journey, which is rather like the liberation that Franz Fanon once described as “the ultimate decolonisation”, each Indigenous nation will no doubt find its own way of reaching that goal. We will each find our own unique way of rediscovering and reopening our pasts to the gaze of our generations yet to come, and in their sight we will give substance once more to the spirit of our power.

At the same time, I am sure that we will also share some of the common values which have underpinned the many indigenous concepts of power. I am sure that we will all want, for example, to find 21st century ways of giving effect to the ancestors’ obligations to protect the mother Earth. I am confident too that we will all find ways of nurturing the relationships of interdependence, and mutual responsibilities that bind all indigenous nations together.

We may give expression to those shared values in different political and Constitutional ways. But if we do so based on the justice of our own rules and the heritage of our own understandings of how we might live with a law rather than under it, then we will rediscover truths that will benefit all of the world. We will replace a crime against humanity with a new sense of responsibility which cherishes all that humanity can be.

In Aotearoa, New Zealand, Māori people are currently striving to reach towards that new kind of political understanding. In a small way we are attempting to move into a post-discovery world, and embark upon the ultimate decolonisation. In doing so we are focussing on less on what the New Zealand Government or courts might do about the Doctrine of Discovery, and concentrating more on what we might do to re-open to our gaze the power and wonder that existed before the doctrine was dumped on our shores in 1769.

If I may, I would like to briefly share with you part of that process in the hope that it might illustrate some of the themes that I have tried to place before you today. In our language at home, our nations are called “iwi” or “hāpu”, and at a major gathering in 2009 our people decided that we should independently begin to formulate a new constitution for our land based on our own laws and values. It was also decided that part of the design of this new constitution should be based on a document that we call “He Whakaputanga” or the 1835 Declaration of Independence, and “Te Tiriti o Waitangi” or the Treaty we signed with the British Government in 1840.

This month, we began the first of a series of gatherings with our people which will continue for the next 12 months as we seek to gain from them both the philosophies and the knowledge of the institutions which once allowed us to govern our own land. For although the English word “constitution” is often seen to be a complicated and complex term, it simply means ‘the values and processes which a people choose to determine their own destiny’. In our view it is fundamental to the proper exercise of the right of self-determination which in itself is a denial of the Doctrine of Discovery.

We also undertake the work, convinced that a constitution for our land must come from our land. We believe that the imposed colonising constitution from Britain grew from that place, and that we must find something which breathes from the stories in our own land. We further undertake the work confident that the notion of democracy and indeed the very concept of political power itself are not unique to Britain or Western Europe, but have roots deeply grounded in our own history and traditions.

Finally, we undertake the work convinced that even if the New Zealand Government was to apologise or resile from the Doctrine of Discovery without a fundamental shift in the way governing decisions are made, then we would remain trapped within the clutches of all that the Doctrine of Discovery presupposed.

For us, then, part of the journey beyond the doctrine is necessarily the rediscovering of how we once cared for ourselves in our own land. We are not naive enough to think that the colonising power will immediately accept the work that we do, or that the demands we make through constitutional change will be enough of a demand in itself for them to give of their power. However, we are hopeful that by re-beginning such a dialogue, we will truly rediscover who we once were and who we might once again be, and that in itself will be our rejection of the Doctrine of Discovery.”

Human rights, Indigenous rights, and environmental rights are, under a colonial regime, constantly under attack. For many of us, defending and protecting them is not a 9-5 job, it’s an all-day-every-day commitment.

By its very nature, it’s draining – most especially for those whose rights are directly under attack, whether they take action on it or not.

Right now, the vast majority of Te Ao Māori are engaged in defence of our world, defence of our Tiriti, defence of our children’s and mokopuna futures. It’s a lot. With that in mind, it seemed that the most appropriate thing to share right now, is a simple tool that has helped me stay in the fight for many years.

I’ve written and spoken before about the physiological, spiritual and mental health consequences of racism and colonialism, and this is well recognised even in our communities. Often, in the Q&A session after a workshop or keynote, I’m asked “how do you look after your energy doing this work?” and while there are numerous approaches to this, one of the tools I’ve come to really value, which is very practical, is the art of TUKU.

Many Indigenous also have a similar process of releasing something that is burdening you back into the universe. The art of tuku is one of these practices, for Māori. A large part of my work is, necessarily, delving into painful histories that recount colonial harm. I don’t enjoy it, nobody should enjoy it, but it is necessary because if we are not going to hold colonialism to account with the history of its harm, it becomes so much easier for colonisers to continue their work, and tell everyone how beneficial it is. The importance of tuku for me was driven home through an experience I had overseas…

Many years ago I was at the United Nations Permanent Forum for Indigenous Issues in New York, it was my first time there and I was overwhelmed by the experience. Each Indigenous organisation is afforded just three minutes to outline the rights abuses they are experiencing, and the organisations come from around the world to speak to the colonial harm happening to our people. Even though there’s a speakers list, you’re never quite sure if they’ll call your name and so leaving your seat risks missing your call up, and wasting your entire journey there. So there I sat, holding onto my seat, listening to three minute slots of Indigenous rights abuses over, and over, and over again.

By the end of the day, when it came time to go back to my hotel room, my arms and legs felt weighed down, I literally felt like I was carrying weights. I was depressed, anxious, and on the edge of hopelessness. I had a week of this still ahead of me and this was just the first day. How could I go on? I got back to my hotel and turned on Game of Thrones, thinking: well maybe some dragons will distract me from my pain for a while.

As luck would have it, I had been paired with a wonderful Indigenous Aunty in the same room, a United Nations veteran who had supported Indigenous women to engage in that space for many years. She walked into the room not long after me, saw me sat on the floor in despair and asked: “What is this?”.

I burst into tears and blubbed a stream of feelings that were barely coherent:

“I don’t know why I’m here, listening to everyone’s pain and just thinking I should turn around and go home, and cede my space to them. How can we ever overcome all of this!?”

If I was hoping for sympathy and a warm Aunty hug, that wasn’t on the menu. She frowned, shook her head and responded with the “warm scorn” that only Indigenous Aunties can pull off:

“No, no no – you’re doing this all wrong.” She motioned towards the television “First of all turn that rubbish off”. Of course now I’m listening because I’m quite clear this woman is channelling my ACTUAL East Coast Aunties and all their tough-love. I turned it off. She looked me up and down, maybe assessing me to make sure I’m ready for what she was about to say, but in any case the next thing she said has been pure gold for me:

“Who do you think you are to carry these people’s pain for them? Did they ask you to do that? No – they didn’t come here for you to do this, they came here to be heard, just as you have. They came here to set the record straight, just as you have. You crippling yourself does nothing for them. What you can do is bear witness for them, stand in solidarity with them and commit to being an agent of change. You have a job to do for your people, just as they have done their job for theirs.”

My sniffles had by now subsided. Each one of her words were shaping me up, I could feel my back straightening and my shoulders shifting back as the plain truth of her words sunk in:

“I am quite sure that your people have a way of releasing hurt…” she glanced disdainfully at the television before looking back at me “and I don’t mean running away from it”.

I thought for a moment and then said “yes, yes we do”

She nodded and then said “Good, then I suggest you do it and prepare yourself for tomorrow, because this…” *waved hand at my messiness* “isn’t doing anything. I’m going shopping.”

And with that, she sailed out the door, leaving me a little sulky but already a little lighter.

The practice she reminded me of is TUKU. It’s not necessary to be a tohunga, or experienced spiritual practitioner in order to carry it out – anyone can do it. All you need is a quiet space and some time – even five minutes will do. For those that are familiar with the deeper practice of pure, it is kind of like “pure-lite”

Tuku is an intentional practice of honouring pain by becoming hyper-present with it, in order to be able to lift it up, and release it. It is not a dismissal of pain and it’s not an escape from pain. Māori practices are, pretty much consistently, about being very present and real at every level (spiritual, emotional, physical, individually and collectively) with what is happening, honouring emotions and giving them due time and place, so that you can then transition on from them to allow the work to take place. This is a divorce from western wellbeing practices which are generally centered upon escaping or suppressing pain (think holidays, retreats, opiates and very stoic western grief practices).

Tuku may look different to people but there are characteristics which are consistent:

1. Quiet your mind
   You need to be free of distractions. You don’t have to be by yourself, but if you are in a group, everyone needs to be quiet, and preferably you should all be engaging in this practice, otherwise the one person who is doing it may feel distracted by being self-conscious.
   
2. Be present with what you’ve heard/seen/experienced
   Think carefully about what you have seen/heard/experienced. If it is throughout the day, walk yourself through the day from the start til now.Envision it, think about its various dimensions, how it sounded, how it felt, how it looked, what else was happening, what it made you think about, how it made you feel, and the emotions you witnessed in others.
   
3. Honour/bless the experience
   What you’ve experienced has purpose, and there is also purpose in you being there to witness it. It has undoubtedly shaped someone, and will shape you by your witnessing of it. Even painful experiences bring important learnings and change. Mihi to it, honour it, and bless it.
   
4. Release it to the universe
   “Tāpae ki te rangi, whakairi ake kia tina” Offer the experience back to the universe. This acknowledges the ultimate design of the universe and humbles oneself in relation to it. Importantly, this is NOT about releasing it to nowhere, it is more akin to suspending it in the sky, like a navigational constellation that can guide you on your pathway forward.
   
5. Commit to being an agent of change.
   If the experience is one of injustice, this process also comes with a commitment to that injustice, and being an agent of change in your space. Even if this injustice is one that is happening far away from you, you can still be an agent of change towards a better world, one free of injustice.

It took me about 5 minutes tops to do this practice, and straight away, I was better, lighter, more prepared to take another day on. It has been a staple of my United Nations practice since then, and a regular practice for me in relation to the Doctrine of Discovery as well.

Kia kaha e hoa ma, the journey to Tiriti justice, and to Indigenous justice, and an anti-colonial future is a long one, we will need deliberate strategies to maintain our energy, strategically pick our battles, and support each other through this.