He Taki Kōrero: Quick Takes from 40 Years Living within Māori and Pākehā Culture

He Taki Kōrero: Quick Takes from 40 Years Living within Māori and Pākehā Culture

This post offers “quick takes” on six themes (with some Te Reo and translation), short reflections that hint at much longer discussions.


1. My personal reflection on the fast-moving “Māori Renaissance” as a participant

Forty years ago, when I was four years old from a Pākehā family, I started at a Kōhanga Reo and later went on to Kura Kaupapa Māori. At that time, this was still rare for both us (my twin and I) and the whānau we grew up alongside.

Back then, cultural acceptance and optimism for the Māori language—among both Māori and Pākehā—were very low. I vividly remember hearing almost everywhere: “You won’t get anywhere with Māori.” That sentiment was common among both groups, apart from our small group of whānau often dismissed as “activists.”

This was still a period overshadowed by the direct violence kaumātua had endured in schools and society for speaking Te Reo. That violence left the language and culture severely endangered. The kaupapa Māori education movement arose as a direct response to that crisis.

Most Māori, and many Pākehā, are aware of this history. Yet when I meet Pākehā, I often feel they haven’t truly digested it—and that gap is something I try to speak to.

The prophet Te Kooti once said: “One day the cat and mouse will sit at the same table to eat.” We’re not there yet, in my view. But I value the change I’ve witnessed in how Aotearoa sees Māori culture. We must keep growing this shift, knowing many still resist it.

Kia kaha ki te kō, ngaku peke maha! — Keep digging away, my colleagues, the many arms!


2. The pain and shame around the Māori Renaissance—and the response from non-Māori

Ka nui te mamae, te anau, ka hunaia taku reo whakahuahua.
There is deep pain and bewilderment in the loss of my explanatory Māori language.

While Te Reo is still endangered, commitment to bring it back into everyday life is growing. The work of leaders to re-establish, regenerate, and build cultural and political strategy has been immense. And we should owe gratitude for those involveld in this work. It provides connection points for all of us.

The pace of change feels rapid in the Māori world. I encourage non-Māori to reflect—on history, on the present, and on themselves. And show agency for themselves.


3. Reflections on non-Māori flocking to learn Māori

It is heartening to see the growing appreciation of Te Reo and Māori culture among non-Māori.

But I believe it’s vital for non-Māori learners to understand the deep losses caused by colonisation, so we can position ourselves in the Māori world with humility—and also take responsibility for ourselves.

One enduring, beautiful quality of the Māori world is its sense of collectivism. I think the individualism, consumerism, and weakening sense of community in world draws many toward Māori. That pull is special. Sadly, Māori too have been affected by Pākehā systems, and collectivism has declined for some.


4. The present government—and governments since 1852

Since the establishment of a Pākehā government in 1852, we’ve seen wealth steadily redistributed from millions of workers to a tiny elite. Today, 311 families hold immense wealth, while 2.5 million New Zealanders at the bottom collectively own about the same.

I’ve taught New Zealand history, particularly Te Tiriti o Waitangi and the raupatu, for some years. The best insight I’ve come across is this: the past and present make the most sense when viewed through the lens of capitalism.

I once thought race explained our history. Now I see racism—and since the 1970s, even anti-racism—as technologies that maintain the class structure of capitalism. That is they get us to focus on race, which hides understanding things from a economic/class perspective. Even if racism disappeared overnight, we would still face poverty, homelessness, and entrenched underclasses—because these are products of capitalism.

Of course, we should be anti-racist, anti-sexist, and so on. But the most accurate lens on the past and present, in my view, is economics.

It’s also the best way to understand the current government. Their attacks on Te Reo appeal to a base in the last gasp of monoculturalism and racism. But much of their wider policy—the Treaty Principles Bill, Regulatory Standards Bill, Fast Track legislation—fits a familiar neoliberal pattern. These are less about race and more about clearing Māori (and others) out of the way in the courts, to enable unfettered capitalism that serves elites, corporations, and donors.

It’s good to know we will continue to resist.


5. Pākehā culture today

If every Pākehā could see how pervasive their culture is, perhaps we’d find the humility and understanding we need. Pākehā culture is everywhere—so much so that it often feels unnecessary to point it out.

For me, other issues feel more urgent: wealth inequality, revitalisation of Māori culture, climate change, protecting minority rights. Still, raising awareness of Pākehā culture has value. Many Pākehā don’t even recognise themselves as cultural beings. Helping them see this could be an important step.


6. A mihi of gratitude to all who have worked to heal our Māori world culturally

Te pōuri tangotango, wherikoriko, ka ngahae te ata i te maunga teitei, kawea ake e te manu hakuwai te rongo konohi o te wā, he rau Heketara, he rau Kawakawa ki te mōkai waewae makenu, he ara rōrī ki te whare whakairo o te iwi. Ko te whare tēnā nō Te Kuraimonoa. Pai marire.

E te umanga i koroingo tō ngākau i te huru manu, I tiana ki tō māhunga, hei koha ki te mōkai tangi kai i te ao nei. E aku pakeke, e te iwi, tēnā koutou katoa. Kia kaha, ka huri.

From the great darkness, to the glimmer, and then the dawn on the high mountain, the bird of death carries away the pain of this time, and brings forward the medicines of Heketara and Kawakawa to the child walking the entangled track to the carved house of the people. This is the house of Te Kuraimonoa.

Good peace to the industrious, whose heart was turned by the feather placed at your head, as a gift and comfort the young who cried for food in this world. To my elders, to the people: greetings to you all. Be strong. I turn.

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