There is a palpable sense of excitement in the air. Granted, the Jetstar lounge isn’t necessarily the most excitable place in the country, but hearing Te Reo Māori flying and constitutional histories discussed by aunties and uncles is a sure cause. The eve before the march has Auckland Domestic Airport Gate 21 buzzing, as inked kauwae wag and tamariki sing waiata, young and old alike prepare to meet the hikoi in the capital. The date is the 18th of November 2024.
Te Ao Māori has never been so interested in our sovereignty for as long as I have been alive. Labour’s Foreshore and Seabed debacle saw the creation and disintegration of a Māori political block within a decade, but the latest wave of divisive attacks on workers’ rights, the environment, and iwi Māori have seen a crack in the bicultural foundations of the nation.
35,000 Māori crossing the Harbour Bridge in Tāmaki Makaurau a week prior saw thousands joining the hikoi to parliament. It has been the greatest expression of solidarity and unity in a population one million strong and growing while the laudable number of Pakeha and Tauiwi have eagerly taken up the cry to defend the constitutional character of the landmark Treaty Principles that have guaranteed Māori participation in all levels of government, protection of Māori tikanga and obligations to our tipuna whenua, and partnership with the Crown as equals, in theory.
It is important to remember that the ACT party’s sledgehammer bill flying in the face of nearly fifty years of careful jurisprudence is an opportunity to think beyond the incremental chains of the Kawana. There is a crack in the foundations of the colonial state. Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke’s explosive haka symbolised more than the mere rejection of a blustering Gerry Brownlee’s authority as speaker, rather, it saw the entire opposition united, Labour, Greens, and Te Pati Māori, rejecting a pro-colonial status quo and a neo-colonial ACT. An impotent speaker reflected an impotent Coalition leader in Prime Minister Christopher Luxon, nowhere to be seen near Lambton Quay, or Waitangi Park.
The conversation meant to divide the nation, leverage, compact, and isolate a new generation of racists, saw horses ridden from Te Araroa to Oriental Parade. A Māori nation was moving, bringing with it every mountain and every forest. Thousands gathered, thousands of stories, from thousands of hills and rivers, whakapapa was real. It was in the air. Kotahitanga was as sure as the wind in the flags and banners.
And then, on the 19th of November 2024, the sledgehammer met its match.
Luxon’s bumbling, embarrassed dismissal of over 50,000 people found little purchase with an energised, activated, and motivated movement. The Treaty Principles Bill galvanised the masses. We said as one it has no place in our democracy, no place in our history, and no place on the streets of Wellington as the nation descended upon parliament with roaring aplomb. Tamariki a-horse and kuia with their strollers marched together with the confidence of their tīpuna, and the certainty of their purpose.
The sun was high as were the spirits of the masses, hiki nuku, hiki rangi ana kia toitū ai te Tiriti, toitū ai te whenua, toitū ai te herenga tangata o te motu whānui. The minenga whānui that moved heaven and earth to maintain the integrity of Te Tiriti, the whenua, and the people united to never be defeated.
Eru Kapa Kingi, of Ngāpuhi and Te Aupōuri, proclaimed to the gathered peoples, who came from the North at Te Rerenga Wairua, from the South at Rakiura, from Hikurangi, to the Waikato, “I hope you all realise in this moment we have committed to a journey of liberation, to a future where we are the captains of our own waka, where we shape our own destinies.”
Whether they came for Eru, to contest a travesty, to make their case, embody their Tino Rangatiratanga, or to support the mana motuhake of all iwi, the working people of the country proudly declared that they will resist. As He Whakaputanga called to our mana, so too did the hikoi declare proudly to the capital, to the country, to the world entire…
The masses can move.
The masses will move.
The masses have moved.
And as our past anchors our present,
So too does the future move with them.
Toitū te Tiriti,
Toitū te whenua,
Toitū te iwi Māori.
Photo Credit: Jill Bowie
