Author: Tina Ngata

Sooooo…. funny thing happened this month. One of my TOP FANS (read stalker) had at some point decided to collate a bunch of my tweets going back to 2019, and place them all in a single graphic to try and “prove” that I hate white people…

And you know what? It was such a lovely walk down memory lane.

Anyhow, one of my friends suggested I sell it as a poster, and I thought actually that’s not a bad idea. I haven’t put it into a poster (yet) but I did put it on a mug!

In fact it seemed like such a great idea, that I went ahead and made a few mugs, and a few other goodies too, and started selling (with all profits going towards the People’s Action Plan Against Racism) under my new Etsy shop, “The Anticolonial Kitchen”…. and made $2000NZD in one day!

So anyway, naturally this made a few folks predictably snotty, and after multiple complaints about “reverse racism” the shop was taken down by Etsy. So I went and found another printer, who is 100% FINE with the designs and happy to print them so now, The Anticolonial Kitchen is BACK IN BIZZO!

So, all profits still go towards the People’s Action Plan Against Racism. I’ve also had a couple of requests about using one of the designs “What a Load of Colony” as a placard for the upcoming hikoi for Te Tiriti – and the answer is OF COURSE YES. I won’t sell it for that though, here is a high-res A3 version of the print:

Anyhow, safe marching everyone, He TAPU Te Tiriti!

If 2024 has a theme in Te Ao Māori, it’s undoubtedly kotahitanga. From the beginning of the year, the Māori nation was called to Tūrangawaewae, and the call was for kotahitanga – uniting in the face of the most explicitly oppressive government we have seen in a long time, coming together to protect all we have achieved in the past 50 years, which this government seeks to undo, and all we hope to achieve for future generations. From that point til now, through multiple hui and indeed throughout the tangihanga of Kīngi Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII and coronation of Te Arikinui Ngā wai hono i te pō VIII, we have heard, over and over, the call to unify. 

It’s not a new call, entire movements have been named after the concept of kotahitanga. It’s been recognised from the time of our ancestors, that we have strength in unity, and are more easily picked off, or held down, when we are separate. I’ve heard many mihi to this government, who have, in their racism, created the context for Māori to unify against them. Undoubtedly, when we have been together in gatherings, “activations” or protests people feel a sense of kotahitanga (and that’s valuable in itself). But as anyone who has been in an intense relationship can tell you – feelings can be deceptive, so I’m going to pose a challenging question now:

What if it’s a mirage?

What if the feeling of kotahitanga, and actual kotahitanga are two different things. What if we aren’t actually there yet? I know there is a tendency to only think/speak positively about ourselves, and I agree that focussing on deficits isn’t a helpful space to remain in – but it’s also important to ground yourself in reality, and sometimes that requires us to consider difficult truths, and potential barriers to our goal. For me, deficit thinking is not considering these barriers, it’s when we consider those barriers to be insurmountable. Problem is, if you don’t SEE the barriers, you’ll have a hard time surmounting them. I’m keen to surmount the barriers, and see how far kotahitanga can take us – so let’s talk about them. Let’s kick our kotahitanga tyres.

I saw somewhere recently, someone wrote “we all know what the problem is”. But do we? The symptoms of the problem are clear – attacks on our reo and tikanga, and all the negative statistics in health, childcare, education and other social outcomes. But are we all on the same page about what drives these attacks and outcomes?

Go around our people and ask them what they think the problem is that we are currently facing, and you’ll get a range of replies:

• Some will say the problem is an individual, usually David Seymour, or Winston Peters, or Shane Jones, or Christopher Luxon (these folks generally respond by campaigns that smear the individual).
• Some will say it’s a particular party (eg ACT, but not so much National, and look out for NZ First employing this narrative as we approach the next election).
• Some will say it’s this coalition together (certainly Labour supporters will take this position)
• Some will say it’s how we do government (these people are generally focussed on a Tiriti centered constitution, a Māori parliament OR setting up a new iwi structure to interface with this government on behalf of Te Ao Māori)
• Some will look beyond this government to international thinktanks like The Atlas Network (these people will look to expose and limit the impact of such thinktanks on government)
• Some will look to broader systems like capitalism (these peeps might propose that we all grow our own food, go off-grid etc – OR they may seek to “win” at capitalism, and use capitalist business models to reduce dependency on the government)

And of course many may say it’s a mix, or even all of the above, but have different ideas about which approach should be prioritised. In any case, I’ve just highlighted at least six different views of what the problem is (and even more ideas about what solutions we should engage in). Now I’m no kotahitanga genie, but I do know that for us to come together around a solution, we need to get on the same page about the nature of the problem. That doesn’t mean we should all be doing the same thing – a diverse approach is good but even a diverse approach still needs to understand what the problem looks like, to guide where our energy is best placed. For instance, if too many people think the problem is David Seymour, but hardly anyone is focused on how we do government, we run the risk of missing an opportunity to block the next David Seymour from coming along (and believe me, there is always a David Seymour around the corner, he’s not a one-off).

It’s difficult, I know, but if we don’t take our time to wānanga and get strategic, we will continue to get pulled into a reactionary space. If we keep reacting to every announcement, we are playing into the distraction tactics of those in power, and we run the risk of being fatigued in 2026 – when we most need our energy. There is a real possibility that in avoiding the difficult discussions, we will condemn our future generations to even more difficulties.

Now, even if we are able to get a unified idea about the nature of the problem, there are a few other matters that can create divisions if not discussed, and managed:

1. Personality over politics – The role of personality is huge. Being a media personality got Donald Trump elected into president, and is arguably going to get him elected back in, even as a convicted felon. He is a rather extreme example though, and we have plenty of examples of this much closer to home. People will endorse someone’s political takes because they are a celebrity artist, or because they are a social influencer, a powerful orator or a successful business person. Increasingly there are concerns about the role of content creators in politics – but for rangatahi, social media is an inescapable fact, and a forum that really resonates for them. Social media is also not the only way we can be swayed. In Te Ao Māori, we love a good tune. I can’t tell you how many hui I have seen swayed by someone who can sing the right song, at the right time. Not always a bad thing, but we need to be aware of how these truths might be used against our collective interests.

2. Iwi/identity over politics – In Te Ao Māori, we are also swayed by the position that our iwi might take. We often have deep, emotional ties to our iwi and don’t want to be seen as being out-of-step with the iwi position. The subtext to being out-of-step is that you may be seen as somehow “less” of an iwi member. Truth is, the iwi position on any kaupapa can be influenced by many factors, not all of them easily seen by hapū, whānau or individuals. It won’t necessarily be the case that iwi will all share the same view on the problem, or the correct solution. Some iwi might not even feel we should change how we do government. This might come across as harsh but let’s be real: Iwi leaders have fought over the past few decades to lift their people from oppression. Many of them haven’t seen their own children grow up, because of their dedication to this struggle. They’ve gotten to the point where finally, they can knock on the doors of power and demand exclusive meetings, where they can acquire funding before a budget is released, and avoid contestable funding rounds. It’s understandable that after an intergenerational fight to get that far, not all of them will be so keen to change how we do government. Especially if there is no clear vision for what will replace it.

3. Disinformation – As I’ve said before, numerous times, Te Ao Māori are particularly susceptible to disinformation networks, because our confidence in institutions such as government, media, and science are understandably low (if not completely shot). When distrust is a survival tool, it can also be weaponised against you, to create even more distractions for your energy.

4. Capitalism/material need – As I mentioned above, there are some who believe we can capitalism our way out of colonialism, and that if we can economically flourish, that this will represent the liberation of our people. For them, they would prefer we focus on capitalist success, and this could be another group who is not so upset by this government’s values. The idea of material wealth as a solution is also attached to another concern around the material needs of our worst impacted whanau. While a number of us may be chasing political authority over our worlds, there are real concerns that this overlooks the immediate, and urgent needs of those worst impacted by colonialism.

5. Incremental change vs Radical change – there are also those who disagree on the appropriateness of radical change, compared to incremental change. For those opposed to radical change, if you reach for too much, you’re not being realistic. They might not feel Te Ao Māori is ready for political authority over our own worlds. They might feel that reaching for such change is a waste of important energy, and we are better to just go for a slow, steady increase in rights and opportunities. For those who support radical change, this may be seen as a rare opportunity for important shifts – especially when we are dealing with time-bound issues such as the climate crisis, and that small incremental change might never actually get us where we need to be.

6. Competing issues and power – What we are facing is a political crisis, but because of the way political power shapes society, it impacts us across multiple fronts, causing reo crises, hauora crises, economic crises etc. If we cannot come together over the role of political power, we can get caught up thinking this is about multiple competing issues, and (this next part is important) political power is just another issue, alongside all the other crises rather than shaping them. To complicate it further, there are people who strongly believe that focusing on Wellington ignores the power you have in your own community to make a change about the reo, or your taiao – they feel that talking about the political arrangement we all live under gives Wellington too much power. Our failure to address these differences has led to many hui about self-determination being derailed, or diluted, by multiple competing interests and ideas.

For many of these issues, what is needed is not only wānanga, but Indigenous critical thinking. By that, I mean a way of assessing our crisis that takes into account who we come from, what we have been through, and where we want to be headed. A way of thinking that is rooted in tikanga and mātauranga Māori, without excluding those who have been culturally dispossessed by colonialism. A way of thinking that is aware of how colonialism works, and how it’s infiltrated our worlds. We need to support ways of seeing our problems so that we are responding to the problem, not responding to a personality, or an identity, or a song or an insecurity, or even worse, responding to an illusion that doesn’t even exist.

So, you see, there are multiple barriers to kotahitanga. This doesn’t mean they are insurmountable – but if we are to surmount them, we will need more wānanga (at more levels than just national hui) and we will need to apply more critical thinking. We don’t have to all think the same, or act the same, but if enough of us can come to a consensus on the nature of the problem in front of us, and can respect our different strengths and approaches, then we may fully see the power and potential of kotahitanga.

For more discussions on Indigenous critical thinking, check out the new Tūturu episode, dropping 11 September. Here are some sneak previews of the wānanga:

Kei he mai koe
Kei he mai koe e tai whakarunga
E te tai whakararo
Na Porourangi e
Na Kahungunu koe
Na Mahinaarangi e
Ko Potatau Te Wherowhero
Ko koe Tuheitia
(nā Ngārimu Parata)¹

Over the past week, we have witnessed the multitudes come, in their aroha, to pay respects to the deeply beloved Kīngi Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII. They have come as iwi and hapū of the Tainui confederation, they have come as iwi from across Te Ao Māori, they have come as organisations, they have come from across Te Moananui a Kiwa to recognise his mana and leadership. I’ve reflected on this, on the loss experienced by his whānau (particularly on Fathers Day), and his iwi – and listening to his contributions to so many kaupapa has been inspiring. Over this time I’ve also reflected deeply on my own interactions with the Kīngitanga, in relation to my work with the Doctrine of Discovery.

Back in 2019, in the middle of Tuia250, I received an invite from the Kīngitanga to present on the Doctrine at their annual lecture series at Waikato University. I was somewhat taken aback, as it was a contentious time for this discussion, and at that time, even some of our own leaders in Te Ao Māori were still somewhat ambivalent about the Doctrine of Discovery and the themes therein. I presented there as well as installing an art exhibition on the Doctrine of Discovery, including works by Derek Lardelli, Robyn Kahukiwa, Ngāhina Hohaia, Rangi Kipa, Israel Tangaroa Birch, Rachael Rakena, Reuben Friend and others. I met with Puhi Āriki Ngāwai Hono-i-te-Pō and Korotangi, the questions they posed were insightful, and their manner extremely gracious.

It would be so easy, for an institution named as it is, with such clear piringa to hāhi karaitiana as it has, to either avoid the conversation, or to look at the surface and feel judged by the themes of the Doctrine, to call it anti-monarchal or anti-Christian (which many do, in error). But not the Kīngitanga, indeed they were one of the first institutions to invite me in to listen and kōrero. To me, this is not only good leadership and remarkable grace, but the greatest expression of faith in our people.

This is also what I saw in the Kīngitanga initiation of the hui-a-motu this year. For me, the essence of good leadership has always been how to navigate seemingly conflicting views. Leadership is easy in times of peace and agreement. It’s in navigating conflict that good leadership is most needed. Too often, the compulsion is to control the kōrero, control the response, or to condemn people for what we think they are saying, rather than listen carefully, and try to find a way through, together. If you are committed to kotahitanga, you will advocate for wānanga to take place, and often through that process you will find that what you thought were conflicting views, were not actually so much in conflict, after all. But it takes grace, patience, and more than anything, it takes faith in our people to work it out together. I saw this again in his speech after the second hui-a-motu in Kahungunu. In expressing his honest fears, which he knew many might not agree with, he modelled a way of navigating difference that was earnest, and honest, but respectful. We need more of that if we are to arrive to kotahitanga.

Over the years I’ve heard people (largely Christians but also at times monarchists) who feel confronted by the story of the Doctrine, ask me how they can reconcile it with their view of the world. While I don’t consider it my place to recraft their worldview for them, I do encourage them to stay in the discussion. I also share with them that I have witnessed many others who have undertaken this journey and come to a position on the Doctrine in profound and respectful ways. It doesn’t have to lead to abandonment of your faith, or other parts of your world. It doesn’t have to be a fight inside of you, integrating an understanding of the Doctrine of Discovery into your world can be a process of whakarongo, wānanga and healthy re-framing.

And maybe, if you can carry out your internal processing this way, you can navigate other conflicts around you that way too. Were all leaders this way inclined, the histories we recount could have been very different to what we face today.

Were all leaders this way inclined, the futures we face may yet be abundant for all.

For your grace, courage, commitment to kōtahitanga, and faith in our people, ka tūpou tēnei mokopuna a Hikurangi ki a koe, e te Kīngi, me tō rangatiratanga.

1. The recomposing of Kāti Ra e Hika follows from a longheld Ngāti Porou tradition of composing a new verse for this waiata for the loss of the highest esteemed leaders. ↩︎

Indigenous love will prevail.
It has prevailed for millenia,
and will continue to prevail.
For 500 years
the colonial machine has thrown everything it has at us
It has literally dropped nuclear bombs on us
And when the dust settles, we are still here.
Standing in our righteous truth,
in spite of all its bloodstained, stolen wealth,
armed multitudes
and ill-gotten political power,
it has still not succeeded in its intent
to rid the world of us,
so that it can live guilt free of its shameful greed
The colonial God must be frustrated, indeed.

The “good doctor” Isaac Featherston said
that the duty of the colonizer
Is to smooth the pillow of the dying native,
so that history will have no reproach.
Yet here we are today.
Maintaining true history,
calling out his absurdity.
And it’s the colonizer
who cannot sleep at night
No cool underside of the pillow
For sweaty colonial fever-dreams
Huffing and puffing their projections
Flailing desperately, calling everyone else
The abuser
The beneficiary
The thief
Their morbid fear of being exposed
Surpassed only by the dread of retribution
Underwritten by the lack of requisite imagination
to comprehend the power
of Indigenous love.

Indigenous love will prevail.
Did you ever consider
that our very creation story, is a love story?
The Indigenous, immortal love of Rangi and Papa.
A love that prevails even in separation,
with every dew drop
with every rainfall
with every sigh of mist.
A love that brought forth trees, and streams,
wind, and fire,
the moon, the stars
and all of us
standing here today.
Products of unwavering, enduring, ever-expanding
Indigenous love.

Indigenous love will prevail.
Because it remembers.
It is the love of ancestors
never forgotten.
Loved in song, in story,
In lullaby and oratory.
Passed on, and on,
like the waves of our Moana
A never ending series of new beginnings,
new Indigenous love stories
prevailing against the odds
Over, and over again.

It is the love of elders
And respect for all they have survived,
all the Indigenous love they have carried
for us, the new generation of Indigenous lovers.
It is the love, and protection
of women and children
and generations yet to come.

It is the love of babies
born and died long before us
who never returned home from school.
It is the timeless call for justice.
The call for women
to be returned
with dignity
from landfills
back to their families
who have never stopped loving them.

There is nothing as limitless
as the bonds of Indigenous love,
invoked across eons.
Connections spanning back
and forward
through time
And out across the universe
to all species,
and elements
Both seen and unseen
All of whom can be called upon
So that we can, and will, prevail

Indigenous love
is the love of land,
the love of water,
the love of skies.
It is the love the world needs.
The love that started with Her.
The love of Papatuanuku,
for all her children.
From the river to the sea
Across to Kanaky
Always was, always will be.

Indigenous love will prevail. ✊🏾❤️

Sharing and platforming the following from Kanak, Indigenous and Allied Women of Kanaky. Please, share.

“Count yourself lucky, some can’t stop having babies”
“Some people just aren’t meant to give birth”
“The public health system isn’t here to help your kind reproduce, you know”

All of these things are from the mouths of health care workers in Aotearoa – I know, because they were said to me. No doubt a lot of folks would be surprised that I would “let” someone talk to me like that, and these days I wouldn’t, but when you’re young, and feel alone, feeling confused, vulnerable, powerless and embarrassed – when don’t have the tools to process what you’re hearing, and don’t feel like you’d be heard anyway, the safest, simplest thing to do is just shut down, go home and try to make it through to the end of that day.

Over the years that I tried and failed to have children, I thought so many times about whether I could have or should have done something different, maybe I was wrong, maybe I was cursed, maybe I didn’t deserve to be a Māmā, maybe I could have tried harder, maybe maybe maybe…

Then I started working in Māori health research and learnt about the systemic racism in our health sector, how it layered on top of systemic sexism and made wāhine and irawhiti Māori, especially when hapū, primary targets for very harmful treatment in the system. When I accepted a job offer to work with young wāhine navigating our maternal health system, I was determined to prevent others experiencing what I had. The young wāhine I had the honour to work with (some of whom I am still in touch with today) were so inspirational. Resourceful. Committed. Some scared. All incredible.

When I started working on that project, in 2010, suicide was the leading cause of death for young Māori Māmā under 20, and had been for at least three years (I hadn’t looked before that point). 15 years later, under both Labour and National governments, it is still the same. Over both of these governments, in my discussions with young Māmā and irawhiti (both through that study and in others), the systemic problems have existed – GPs who, upon confirmation of pregnancy simply hand the wāhine a list of midwives and a handful of leaflets, assuming they have the phone, or credit, or language necessary to navigate those calls. Midwives who are terrified of being blamed for all of the “problems” that occur with young Māori and Pasifica births. Young wāhine who call name after name on that list and are told repeatedly that the “books are full, sorry”… and so they wind up with the hospital maternity care team, who is different each time and so they have to tell their story again, and again. Parenting classes that are full of middle-class pākeha women who definitely don’t have to worry about busfares and absolutely make all their midwife appointments and undoubtedly know where they’re going to be living and raising their child next year.. and all have a particular side-glance that makes the word “slut” almost audible, even when they’re smiling. Māori midwives that are overwhelmed with clients that others won’t take on. Media and politicians that basically say the same thing, but in more words. A health system that rarely takes the broader whānau into consideration, and almost never considers the needs of the young father, or how to support their relationship. Teen Parent Units that simply don’t have room for the amount of young Māmās, and so education is cut short, affecting employ-ability, housing, health, and stability for both the parents and baby. An unforgiving mainstream school system that has no space for her when she can’t make it into the Teen Parent Unit (but was also the same education system that failed to provide adequate reproductive health education in the first place, because it was busy arguing with the health system about whose responsibility it was). A degrading, clunky benefit system that demands to know everything about her young relationship, and penalises her for telling the truth, but incarcerates her for telling a lie. The ever present threat (even in the maternity ward) of the state appearing, like a suited boogieman, to take her child from her arms, and all of this in a world that expects her to instantly, magically, exhibit the traits and decision making abilities of a fully grown adult, severely judging her for being anything other than that – and, well if we’re being completely honest, judges her anyway.

I would challenge anyone to balance all of that and not be in severe distress.

It’s a kaupapa that has remained close to my heart over the years, and what I have learnt since developing my research on the Doctrine of Discovery over the past decade, is that it is an experience that is of design, which is to say, it is a health system that was built upon assumptions of mental and physical health for European men. Worse than that, at these same foundations is science that was not only neglecting and ignoring Indigenous people, but intending harm towards Indigenous people. This harm was not intended for its own sake, but rather to retain power and privilege in the hands of European men. And worse still – all of this is taking place within a system that is built upon a premise that Indigenous people, and certainly Indigenous women, are not sacred in their own right – so naturally, this is in direct contrast to the whakapapa from whence we have come.

I’d like to say this behaviour is a historical relic, but commentary on Māori health by the current government, and their supporters, suggests it is very much still an active attitude today. Even when faced with clear evidence that racism is deeply entrenched within our health system, and that it would be not only more effective, but also more cost-effective, for Māori to design and run our own health system – the current government brandished our lives as electoral points. It condemned itself to a health model based upon Treaty injustice, and all the poor health impacts that go with it, confirming for us that Tiriti justice cannot happen in piece-meal, and is only sustainable through a whole-of-government Tiriti centered constitution. Like so many other measures (incarceration, income, housing and education), our suicide statistics are mirrored in the Indigenous peoples of so-called Australia, Canada, and the USA – across radically differing cultures, but all of which share one common denominator: colonisation. Consistently, across all of these contexts, the issue is longstanding and intergenerational – linked to trauma caused by colonisation. Consistently, across all of these contexts, Indigenous women have been targeted by a racist, sexist, ageist system. Consistently, across all of these contexts, Indigenous women and their whānau have been blamed as promiscuous, and the culture itself blamed for producing poor parents, consistently, across all of these contexts, colonial governments have used these fictions to justify taking children away and creating new cycles of harm and consistently, across all of these contexts, the colonial government has failed to really account for the role colonisation has played in the lives of Indigenous women and children, and actually do something about it.

So when I was approached to contribute towards the documentary “It Takes a Kāinga”, it was an easy yes. The more voices we have out there, affirming to our Māmā that they are not just right, but are incredible, exceptional testaments to Indigenous strength, reaffirming their sacredness and beauty – the more voices we have calling in their whānau to wrap around them, listen to them and believe in them, the more voices we have calling upon colonial governments to be accountable for their harm, the better. Media like this is exactly what we need right now, not just to expose colonial shittery, but to highlight Indigenous strength and beauty, and both are necessary while we still have colonisers wielding political power over our worlds. That’s not to say the coloniser should get all our energy. Wāhine and their partners have been very clear about what kind of support is missing:

• Support that is appropriate to their age, peer group, economic circumstances and culture
• Connections to other wāhine hapū of their peer group
• Support from older wāhine (their mothers, aunts, and grandmothers)
• Somewhere they can safely ask questions about sex, reproduction, their bodies, and raising babies
• Support that is inclusive of their partner’s needs
• Support for their whānau to be the best safety net they can be for Māmā and baby
• Continuity of care from the moment their pregnancy is confirmed
• Support well beyond birth, through to the first thousand days
• Support for them to pursue their aspirations through continued education and employment

And just overall, less judgement. See them for who they are, see the best in them, and trust in their potential. I have lost count of the number of times I have heard the importance of being a “trusted” service for Māori, for rangatahi and for Māmās – but young Māori Māmā are one of the most distrusted groups out there, and they feel it, and trust is not a one-way street. Māori Māmā are exercising sound critical judgement when they don’t trust the system – there is no historical or current basis to do so, statistically they are highly likely to have their children removed – even when they do everything right – and see their children placed into abusive state facilities. I wouldn’t trust the system either, and armed with that knowledge I doubt many others would.

But if sound support is received, if Māmās get the support they need, in the way that they need it, then incredible things can happen. Supporting young Māmās to reach their potential, not just as Māmās but as wāhine, is called “circuit breaker” support, because it interrupts intergenerational cycles of harm and injustice.

And while we should always continue to hold the system to account for its failings, and continue to call for better, more just systems, there are things we can do right now to look after our young Māmā better. Organisations that work with our young Māmā and their whānau – you can ensure that every single staff member (both frontline and admin) is aware of the colonial context, specific to the worlds of our young Māmā and their whānau, and act, and speak accordingly, you can build your own organisational policies around whānau-wide engagement and respecting the tapu of wāhine and tamariki. Parents, you can seek out ways to have appropriate discussions with your children about sex, reproduction, and whakapapa, you needn’t leave that up to schools – children who feel comfortable to have conversations with their parents about their bodies and relationships are far more likely to make empowered decisions, and far more likely to reach out for help when it’s needed. As a whānau, you can wānanga together and develop your own tikanga-a-whānau about how you will wrap around Māmā they are hapū. There are incredible resources out there, look into the research on Māori birthing, wāhine and parenting by Kuni Jenkins, Leonie Pihama, Naomi Simmonds, Ngāhuia Murphy and others – follow groups like Tupuna Parenting on Facebook. This system was never made to look after our wāhine or our babies, but we can wrap around them ourselves.

One of the most contentious aspects of delivering Doctrine of Discovery workshops is the challenge to people’s faith systems. In a good number of the sessions, someone will raise the issue at the end, declaring themselves a person of faith, and asking for guidance in how to reconcile the role of the faith, which guides them through this world, with the central role of Christianity in the enduring violence of colonisation.

Now I, personally, am not a Christian. I’m not a scholar of the scriptures, I cannot point to any particular biblical passage to salve them – nor do I believe that’s my responsibility or purpose. I deliver workshops on historical and enduring systems of colonial racism, I point to solutions that have been effective in addressing the impacts of colonialism, but I cannot help people reconcile the facts with their choices of faith, today. While I can’t take that journey for them, I encourage them to seek solutions from within their faith community, and share with them that I have met a number of faith leaders overseas who dedicate significant time, energy, and resource to reckoning with, and responding to, the role of the church in colonisation. The rest is their journey to take, I cannot take it as a non-Christian.

That is not to say I am anti-Christian, or call for the removal of Christianity. When I consider what justice might look like for Aotearoa in the face of colonisation, whether it be an imagining of what we would be like were we not colonised by Britain, or what a Tiriti-centered nation would look like – both of those scenarios allow for the presence of all faith systems, and the freedom of Māori to engage with the faith system of their choice. So the right of Māori to access and adopt Christianity as a faith system is supported in both an anti-colonial and a Tiriti-centered perspective.

The conversation I am much more interested in, and that I feel is important to have – is an open, and frank conversation about the role Christianity has played, and still plays in colonisation, the impacts of that history, how it continues to draw privilege from colonialism, how it reckons with these facts, and what its place should be in an anticolonial future.

That the church has played a role in colonisation should be unquestionable. It’s not called “The Doctrine of Christian Discovery” for nothing. From the very outset, the ravenous entitlement of the European gaze upon other lands and the people of those lands was couched in ideas of divine religious supremacy. While this has extended to notions of cultural and intellectual supremacy, the idea that Christianity is a superior faith to all others has endured throughout time and influenced economies, politics and society at large .

Religious supremacy has played a significant role in the colonial process not only as a justification for colonialism, but as a tool of subjugation within the process of colonisation. The denial of Indigenous sacredness is a central and consistent feature of the Doctrine of Discovery, everywhere it has been applied. It plays a crucial role in diminishing the status of Indigenous peoples as a precursor to their dispossession and enslavement. Importantly, if Indigenous peoples can themselves be convinced that their own pre-colonial faith systems are inferior, then they can be more easily absorbed into the colonial hierarchy of God, the Church, the Monarchy and the power systems they have collectively created (including colonial governments). Colonial domination is ultimately a power project, and for our tīpuna, political and spiritual power were intertwined, managed through rangatira and tohunga. The introduction of a superior European God, together with the outlawing of tohunga and the subjugation of rangatira functioned to undermine the power structure for Māori, paving the way for colonial domination.

Everywhere the colonial project landed, the very first proclamations were of religious supremacy, directing natives to “submit to the yoke” of the Cross and the Crown. From that point on, religious supremacy was reiterated by missionaries, priests, Christians, and their converts, everywhere they went. The dominance of Christian faith was communicated through ceremonies, education, media, currency, and in every day language. Indigenous faith systems that revered ancestors, or nature, or ancestors AS nature, were generally reviled and ridiculed as pagan and primitive within the colonial project. Christian ministers, politicians and theorists distorted Indigenous deities, at times to suggest that they were demonic, at other times suggesting that Indigenous deities were actually the Christian God, in disguise. Being patriarchal, colonial anthropologists also often deliberately erased female and child deities. Recognising that women and children often held sacred roles within Indigenous communities, the deliberate targeting of them is a longstanding warfare tactic, aimed to demoralise the enemy. Labelling Ātua Māori as “lesser Gods”, false idols, or even demonic and dangerous, creates another layer of European supremacy, interacting with other suggestions of European supremacy that saturate colonial society – culminating in a pervasive message of Indigenous inferiority and dependence upon colonial systems in order to access “true”, “ultimate” sacredness.

For Māori, our Ātua are our ancestors, as well as being nature, and are at the very beginning of our whakapapa – our broad genealogy that connects us to all ancestors, to nature, and to the universe. An attack upon Ātua Māori is therefore an attack upon our whakapapa. For many of our ancestors, being told that our understanding of the universe, and our place within it is not so, that our sacred ceremonies are actually harmful, held profound psychological consequences. This psychological harm is layered upon colonial injustices such as matakite being committed to “lunatic asylums” and the criminalisation of tohunga through the 1910 Tohunga Suppression Act – even as Pentecostal and other Christian churches continued to carry out “faith healings”. Consistently throughout history, Māori spiritual practices have been treated as arcane, dangerous and esoteric, where Euro-Christian spiritual practices are normalised, to the point where they feature in the opening of parliament.

(Previous Speaker of the House Trevor Mallard reading out the parliamentary prayer at the opening of parliament)

Political protection of Christianity within colonies is rooted in the Catholic legal concept of Jus Patronus, which initially related to the patronage of the Church, but within the context of the Doctrine of Discovery, came to refer to the relationship between the Church and the Crown, where the Church would devolve it’s “divine authority” to dominate down to the Crown, and in return the Crown would protect the Church in carrying out it’s core business: converting natives.

While numerous Churches often reflect upon the benign and protective role of missionaries preceding, during and after the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, it’s also the case that Churches have been responsible for significant land dispossession. It perhaps comes as no surprise that the introduction of the Doctrine of Discovery into New Zealand case law occurs through Wi Parata vs Bishop of Wellington, a case where a church refused to return land that was gifted for the express purpose of building a school for Ngati Toa children, however the school never eventuated, and the Church never gave the land back – in declaring Te Tiriti a ”mere nullity”, Justice James Prendergast cited Johnson v M’Intosh as a precedent – a United States courtcase that negated all native land rights upon the arrival of Europeans, asserting the rights and entitlements of the Doctrine of Discovery. From this point on Wi Parata vs Bishop of Wellington was used in NZ case law as a precedent to alienate significant tracts of land, and was only conclusively overturned in 2004. The Ngati Toa case is not exceptional, across Aotearoa, Christian churches received and held stolen Māori land, and many still retain that land to this day. In fact, Christian churches remain some of the country’s largest landholders: The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Wellington listed $13.5m in investment properties in 2015, and the Catholic Diocese of Christchurch listed $11.6m in buildings, $593,000 in buildings in progress and $34.6m in land in 2016. In 2017, it was reported that the Anglican diocese in Canterbury had $320m in cash and properties. The Presbytarian Church owns $1.5bn in land assets and 400 properties. Brethren-owned Trinity Lands are big players in dairy, forestry and kiwifruit. Christian churches hold more land than Fonterra, and are active political lobbyists. Christian leaders also enjoy an exclusive audience with the Prime Minister every year. While New Zealand’s political-religious ties may not be as obvious as other nations such as the United States, they are very present, and very effective in protecting Christian privilege, acquired through the Church’s role in the colonial project. Doctrine of Discovery scholar Steve Newcombe describes the economic-political power complex of Christianity as Christendom, differentiating it from the faith itself.

(Christian leaders meet with Ex-Prime Minister Ardern. Annual meetings with the PM have been held since 1998)

An aspect of researching colonialism at a trans-national level, is that you get to see the patterns of colonialism around the world. One particular consistent feature, is that in every single instance, Christianity has forwarded a position that the Indigenous group was warlike, primitive, and doomed to self-elimination, and that Christianity came along to save us from ourselves. In many cases, what is conveniently omitted is that missionaries usually arrive on Indigenous shores a little while after muskets, and that the inception of colonialism has always initiated a period of increased conflict, made worse by the introduction of firearms. Missionaries then subsequently feature as a “voice of reason” to the warring savages, and this becomes an entrenched colonial fiction. Rarely is it ever acknowledged that, like all others, Indigenous communities had periods of conflict, had their own means for resolving said conflict (eg marriages, ceremony, law or trade), and also had longstanding periods of peace. The ability of Indigenous peoples to rationally navigate our way through conflict is erased within the colonial narrative, so that Euro-christianity can fulfil that role. Throughout the global colonial project, Euro-Christianity has claimed responsibility for stopping Africans from enslaving each other, stopping First Nations Americans from warring with each other, stopping Aboriginal people from killing their children and stopping Māori from cannibalism. In every single Indigenous instance, it is suggested that were it not for Christianity, the relative Indigenous nation would have wiped themselves and each other out, and the inference is that Indigenous people therefore owe Christianity their allegiance and faith – and if we do not, then we will somehow regress back to this warring, primitive state. Of course, Christian nations have carried out the world’s most enduring, widescale wars – many of which are still carrying on today, but for whatever reason, although the “warring nature” of Indigenous nations provides the grounds for conversion to Christianity, the enduring warring nature of Christianity provides the ground for Māori to go to war “for God, King, and Country”.

It would be one thing if this was a historical relic, but as a narrative, its still very present within Te Ao Māori. We are still told, today, that violence was due to our Ātua, and that peace was due to Christianity. We are still told, today, that Christianity is more sacred than Ātua Māori. While some Christian leaders have been open to the conversation of how we reckon with these histories, and what should be done about them today, more often than not, what I’ve seen from the church, is a brushing off of this history, using responses that are recognisably similar to denials of colonialism in general:

• “Let’s put the imperialism part of Christianity to the side” (psst – Christianity is not aioli)
• “Māori weren’t saints, you know” (apparently you have to be a saint to avoid being colonised)
• “We held on to both” (no, we didn’t, not to the same degree, evidenced by the fact that its so much easier to access and learn inoi Karaitiana than karakia taketake)
• “That’s so negative and boring, let’s focus on the positives of Christianity and why Māori embraced it” (as if that’s a novel discussion, I guess someone missed the previous centuries of discussions centred on why everyone converts, and should keep converting, to Christianity?)
• “Oh, that Doctrine of Discovery, well it’s governments that applied that, you should talk to them about it” (and the government of course says “that’s a religious thing, you should talk to Churches about it”)

In short, the talking points surrounding the refusal of this discussion are based upon stock, standard evasive logic. I could replace Christianity with colonisation in any of those sentences and we will instantly recognise them as coloniser-speak.

There are, however, a few faith leaders I have met along my way who are interested, and enthusiastic, to have this discussion from within the framework of their faith, and that IS an interesting and heartening conversation. To me, these people seem to be the most settled in their relationship to their Christianity – they are tau enough in their relationship to their God that the discussion does not perturb them, and in fact a few see it as an opportunity to be even better Christians. The Mennonite Church commits significant funds into producing resources about the Doctrine of Discovery, here in Aotearoa the Presbytarian Church are looking to offer iwi Māori first right of refusal for all land sales (not quite landback and certainly would be improved by just GIVING it back, especially where it was gifted or confiscated to them in the first place, but it’s a step). Recently I attended a conference in Syracuse University, New York State, titled “The Religious Origins of White Supremacy” and was heartened by some of the Christians I met there – there was a Bishops panel, and they were rightfully challenged on when they will progress beyond nice words and sit down with Indigenous leaders to talk about material solutions and restitution. To be honest, I was surprised that they even showed up – I’m not sure as many would do so in Aotearoa. Other faith organisations there were even more forthright in the work they do to counter the systems of harm that Christianity established.

As we mature our discussions about the Doctrine of Discovery and its impact upon Aotearoa, we are going to have to be increasingly courageous in our discussions. I’ve often said to Tangata Tiriti that they should benchmark their discomfort with the discomfort of being colonised – in the same way, when we feel discomfort in discussing the role of the Church in colonisation, we must benchmark that with the discomfort, in fact, massive upheaval, of our tipuna who had their entire universe re-shaped by the introduction, and political re-inforcement, of Christianity. I look forward to the day when we can have these discussions openly, allow the mamae to surface and heal, work together on the solutions, and then walk together towards our anti-colonial future.