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The history of educational policy-making in Aotearoa New Zealand is also a history in myth-making. Myths about Māori in education are deeply embedded in educational and social thought, because they have their origins in the first political interactions between Māori and Pākeha. These interactions were motivated by contradicting forces—Māori determination to participate in the changing economic and technological landscape, contrasted against British perceptions of their own cultural superiority and inherent right to rule indigenous populations. British superiority was enshrined in aggressive and racist laws that disenfranchised and dispossessed Māori of lands, resources, economies, and attempted to de-culturalise Māori. Laws were in turn translated to policy and practice that reinforced deep seeded myths that have negatively positioned Māori socially, politically and educationally. As Aotearoa New Zealand education progresses toward a commitment to teach our dual and difficult histories, it is necessary to also expose and analyse the ways negative positioning of Māori has been purposefully built into our education system. Understanding how political histories have influenced our education system may better equip education professionals to identify and question their own conscious and unconscious biases, and to challenge and change a system that has its origins racist philosophy, reinforced by policy. Education professionals who are able to deconstruct carefully fortified, damaging myth-making about Māori will be well positioned to lead authentic movement toward a shared future.

This article considers the puzzle of the location of tino rangatiratanga in the post-Treaty settlements era in the context of current controversy in New Zealand over recognising Maori self-determination or tino rangatiratanga as guaranteed by Art 2 of the Treaty of Waitangi. On one level, the current political and legal struggles reflect a fundamental tension between Maori aspirations for tino rangatiratanga and the state's desire to maintain centralised sovereignty. At a deeper level, the government opposition to co-governance stems from questions about the evolving role of the Treaty - in particular the guarantee of tino rangatiratanga and its ability to apply to a much wider range of Treaty issues (other than natural resources) and Treaty partners; for example, non-tribal Maori collectives serving urban Maori and not bound like tribes by kinship ties. The Waitangi Tribunal, originally established to facilitate Treaty settlements, is now at the centre of this shift in thinking to expand the interpretation of tino rangatiratanga. In a recent series of reports, the Tribunal has recognised the diversity of Maori identity and the legitimacy of non-tribal collectives as Treaty partners, particularly when these organisations are created by and responsive to the socio-economic needs of Maori. The proliferation of Treaty partners thus raises issues of co-ordination and coherence - how do these many partners engage effectively with the Crown and is every Maori organisation a Treaty partner for the purposes of Art 2 tino rangatiratanga? And does provision of social services by these Treaty partners violate the right to equality?

Norman v Tūpuna Maunga o Tāmaki Makaurau Authority is a judicial review of the Tūpuna Maunga o Tāmaki Makaurau Authority's decision to fell and remove all the exotic (non-native) trees on Ōwairaka/Mt Albert. Whilst the High Court dismissed the review and allowed the operation to proceed, that decision was overturned by the Court ofAppeal because the Maunga Authority failed to consult in accordance with statutory requirements. The Norman litigation has implications and lessons for all co-governance arrangements in Aotearoa New Zealand. This article argues that whilst the relevant Treaty of Waitangi settlement legislation allows for meaningful power-sharing within the Maunga Authority, and the co-governance partners sought to meaningfully share power, the Maunga Authority could have done more to consult and act in good faith. It also contends that tikanga Māori gives rise to a duty to consult and ought to be contemplated by counsel as a basis for a duty to consult in the future.

In her 1984 book ‘Māori Sovereignty’, Donna Awatere sustains a blistering polemic on ‘white culture’ that still retains its rhetorical force 40 years later. Her construction of a sharply delineated binary between a monolithic notion of ‘white culture’ as against ‘taha Māori’ can come at the cost of simplification. But this is not at all to say that Awatere is wrong when she says it is ‘Māori Sovereignty or death’. In this paper, we extend Awatere’s work by analysing relationships between colonialism and capital. We begin by situating Awatere’s work in its historical context, outlining major shifts in the global political economy, and drawing on Awatere’s analysis of Fascism to account for contemporary Far Right movements. Building from the inextricability of Fascism from the settler colonial/imperialist economy, we explore Awatere’s framing of whiteness as a system of racial exploitation and violence that enforces the state’s genocidal claims to sovereignty, defined through necropower – capitalism’s consumption of racialised death. We then consider the contradictions between capitalism and constitutional transformation. By scanning revolutionary movements elsewhere (in particular the Chilean movement for plurinationalism), we identify the need for extra-parliamentary, broad-based, popular power and constituent authority from below, as well as Indigenous solidarities and international alliances to circumvent anti-Māori populism and confront capital. In reflecting on the power of death, and the need for counter-hegemonic culture capable of securing the transition out of capitalism, we are drawn to the revolutionary essence of whakapapa as an Indigenous ontology that eternally resists necropower.

Starting with the whakapapa of the Waikeria Prison Uprising in 2020/21, this article examines what the suppression of prisoners’ freedom of speech tells us about the struggle to defeat the far right. Drawing on the authors’ personal experience of censorship at the hands of the Crown, the article demonstrates the futility of relying on the capitalist state to achieve the liberation of exploited and oppressed people. The article critiques liberal ‘safetyism’ as a demobilising force, which prioritises fear for personal safety over the necessity of struggle. In contrast, the authors argue that it is only through mass struggle that we can defeat the far right and liberate ourselves.

The 2023 New Zealand general election was marked by media narratives about a youth crime crisis, with special emphasis placed on ram raids and the Māori children and young people blamed for perpetrating them. We show that empirical data do not support the claim that youth crime is surging, and argue that fears of ram raids tap into longstanding beliefs about Māori. Using archival sources from the era of early European settlement in Aotearoa, we show that Pākehā settlers constructed Māori children and young people as uniquely dangerous delinquents. Using Louis Althusser’s theory of ideology and subjectivation, we argue that this delinquentisation played a key role in constituting a colonial ideology that would justify primitive accumulation, colonisation, and the imposition of the capitalist mode of production in Aotearoa. Looking to the contemporary neoliberal era, we argue that moral panics about ram raids continue this colonial ideology of delinquentisation. By subjectivating children and young people as delinquents, the capitalist class is able to use the criminal justice system to displace responsibility for the crisis of social reproduction precipitated by neoliberal economic policy. We conclude by showing the limitations of this strategy and arguing for intensified struggle against the ideology of delinquentisation.

This Kaupapa Māori writing inquiry explores “Tāngata Tiriti” (People of the Treaty) as a settler/invader identity term in Aotearoa New Zealand. Derived from the failed policy platform of “biculturalism” and “Indigenous inclusion,” Tāngata Tiriti is a byproduct of neoliberalism and settler/invader colonialism that fails to provide for Indigenous inclusion, mana motuhake (Indigenous sovereignty) and tino rangatiratanga (self-determination). This article argues that Tāngata Tiriti should be abandoned due to the 2014 paradigm shift surrounding Te Tiriti o Waitangi (Te Tiriti) and mana motuhake from the Te Paparahi o Te Raki report and the author’s subsequent research on non-signatory hapū and iwi. Pākehā settler/invader perspectives on Tāngata Tiriti are compared with Tāngata Moana and Asian scholarly understandings. The author advocates adopting Tāngata Moana thinking around letting Māori as mana whenua lead “wayfinding” and “meaning-making” to define allyship and promote a “collective future” together based on Māori constitutional values that are generally universal throughout Pacific cultures. Instead of settler/invader identity constructs and the doctrine of the nation as a White possession, movement toward a collective future must begin from a place of sovereign relationality. The pedagogy of teaching Te Tiriti must change, the ill-conceived Tāngata Tiriti identity must be abandoned, and “New Zealand” as a settler/invader colonial enterprise must end. Our future must be post-settler/invader colonial and post-Tiriti and must recognize unceded mana motuhake or sovereignty.

This article is a response to the recent surge of interest over extractive industry in New Zealand and the opposition to this by many iwi. The New Zealand government has in recent years made offshore exploration and production a high priority. By the extractive industry, we mean the people, companies, and activities involved in removing oil and gas, metals, coal, stone and other useful resources from the ground.

In 2021, Aotearoa New Zealand's Foreign Minister, Nanaia Mahuta, sketched out a kaupapa Māori (collective Māori vision) foreign policy for New Zealand based on four tikanga Māori (Māori customary practices and behaviours): manaakitanga (hospitality), whanaungatanga (connectedness), mahi tahi and kotahitanga (unity through collaboration), and kaitiakitanga (guardianship and the protection of intergenerational wellbeing). This article makes a novel contribution to the global International Relations body of literature by questioning to what extent New Zealand's ‘Māori foreign policy’ has been applied to its relationship with China. Through assessing the communications of Mahuta and other officials, it is found that New Zealand is utilizing a kaupapa Māori framework towards China: ‘the taniwha and the dragon’. It is argued that New Zealand is attempting to consolidate the maturity of the Sino-New Zealand relationship, as well as differentiate itself from the other Anglosphere countries that have recently pushed back on China. In doing so, not only is New Zealand something of an outlier, it is demonstrating how eschewing a western-centric understanding of foreign policy for a more relational view based on indigenous knowledge and perspectives (in this case, from te ao Māori: the Māori worldview) can be applied at a time of increasing great power competition.

Maori election petitions to the 1876 Eastern Maori and the 1879 Northern Maori elections were high-stakes political manoeuvres. The outcomes of such challenges were significant in the weighting of political power in Wellington. This was a time in New Zealand politics well before the formation of political parties. Political alignments were defined by a mixture of individual charismatic men with a smattering of provincial sympathies and individual and group economic interests. Larger-than-life Maori and Pakeha political characters were involved in the election petitions, providing a window not only into the complex Maori political relationships involved, but also into the stormy Pakeha political world of the 1870s. And this is the great lesson about election petitions. They involve raw politics, with all the political theatre and power play, which have as much significance in today's politics as they did in the past. Election petitions are much more than legal challenges to electoral races. There are personalities involved, and ideological stances between the contesting individuals and groups that back those individuals. Maori had to navigate both the Pakeha realm of central and provincial politics as well as the realm of Maori kin-group politics at the whanau, hapu and iwi levels of Maoridom. The political complexities of these 1870s Maori election petitions were but a microcosm of dynamic Maori and Pakeha political forces in New Zealand society at the time.

This article explores the broad area of rangatahi Māori climate activism. As a research team made up of academics, rangatahi and rangatahi Māori activists, this perspective piece discusses the importance of whakapapa, belonging and connections to the environment as a foreground to climate activism. While we highlight the lack of academic research focussed on rangatahi Māori climate activism, we show that there is a plethora of activity happening through digital and social media which provides a rich space for sharing innovative ideas for a just future in which nature is centered. We suggest that there are many commonalities between the current articulations of Nature-Based Solutions and rangatahi Māori activism and that greater dialogue between these spaces is vital for any solutions being offered for an environmentally just future for Aotearoa.