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This article brings perspectives from three Māori activists, each promoting issues of self-determination in different ways. It centres on tino rangatiratanga and mana motuhake, two concepts that inform modern Māori activism and life and practice, and more recently conceptions of Māoridom as “nation”. Using a Gramscian framework we argue that the New Zealand state has over time created a notion of one people within one state, and has in the past incorporated challenges to its legitimacy within a framework of popular consent. The desire by some Māori activists for self-determination promotes a separateness that to some extent challenges this idea of nation–state unity. An examination of these modern Māori activist politics allows us to observe the operations of hegemony as it forms and reforms in modern New Zealand.

Examines ‘significant’ reforms implemented in NZ over the past 30 years to recognise the rights of Māori as an indigenous people. Overviews the conceptual basis for settlements lodged under the Treaty of Waitangi, legal claims by Māori to natural resources and other reforms. Identifies a lack of measures that recognise Māori political authority, and asserts that successive governments have deliberately discounted the normative value of ‘historical conceptual categories’, instead choosing to emphasise categories that deliver lesser substantive rights.

This article will argue that Māori prophetic movements were sites of political resistance where Māori prophets resisted colonisation and developed syncretic theologies that gave their followers a sense of hope within a tumultuous colonial environment. The movements of four Māori prophets will be discussed in chronological order: Te Atua Wera and the Nākahi movement; Te Ua Haumēne and the Pai Mārire or Hauhau movement; Te Kooti’s Ringatū movement; and Rua Kēnana and the Iharaira movement. This article will critically analyse these Māori prophetic movements as sites of religious and political resistance to show how Māori prophets challenged colonisation and land loss.

By 2051 the ethnic Maori population will almost double in size to close to a million, or twenty-two percent of the total New Zealand population. Even more dramatically, by 2051 thirty-three percent of all children in the country will be Maori?' This substantial change in our society will have major implications for Maori and wider society. Professor Durie discusses traditions and customs and addresses contemporary needs in order to build development strategies for the launch of the Maori population into the new millennium.

'We have always owned the water . . . we have never ceded our mana over the river to anyone', King Tuheitia Paki asserted in 2012. Prime Minister John Key disagreed: ‘King Tuheitia's claim that Maori have always owned New Zealand's water is just plain wrong'. So who does own the water in New Zealand – if anyone – and why does it matter? Offering some human context around that fraught question, Tupuna Awa looks at the people and politics of the Waikato River. For iwi and hapu of the lands that border its 425-kilometre length, the Waikato River is an ancestor, a taonga and a source of mauri, lying at the heart of identity and chiefly power. It is also subject to governing oversight by the Crown and intersected by hydro-stations managed by state-owned power companies: a situation rife with complexity and subject to shifting and subtle power dynamics. Marama Muru-Lanning explains how Maori of the region, the Crown and Mighty River Power have talked about the ownership, guardianship and stakeholders of the river. By examining the debates over water in one New Zealand river, over a single recent period, Muru-Lanning provides a powerful lens through which to view modern iwi politics, debates over water ownership, and contests for power between Maori and the state.

All peoples develop their own academic traditions: philosophies grounded in their experiences over successive generations, and theories for growing knowledge and wisdom. Mātauranga Māori (mātauranga) is the Indigenous knowledge system of these lands. It is dynamic, innovative and generative. The mātauranga continuum is the knowledge accumulated through this system. Government policies and systems have marginalised mātauranga and prioritised Western science, and the past 100 years have seen a slowing in the expansion of the mātauranga continuum. Unless the survival of mātauranga is prioritised, it will cease to flourish. Māori have discussed and written extensively about the ongoing impact of colonisation on mātauranga and tikanga Māori. This paper builds on those discussions, arguing for tino rangatiratanga, including Māori ownership of mātauranga, fulfilment of the government's obligations to Māori, and the reinstitution of mātauranga as a primary knowledge system in Aotearoa. It explains why mātauranga revitalisation is important and outlines some of the steps towards this goal. We are calling for Western academics to support mātauranga revitalisation, with the vision of two functional knowledge systems operating that are unique to New Zealand.

"Since colonisation, New Zealand has been mythologised as a 'land of milk and honey' - a promised land of natural abundance and endless opportunity. In the twenty-first century, the country has become literally a land of milk and honey as agricultural exports from such commodities dominate the national economy. But does New Zealand live up to its promise? In this introductory textbook for first year sociology students, some of this country's leading social scientists help us to make sense of contemporary New Zealand. In 21 chapters, the authors examine New Zealand's political identity and constitution; our Māori, Pākehā, Pacific and Asian peoples; problems of class, poverty and inequality; gender and sexualities; and contemporary debates around ageing, incarceration and the environment. The authors find a complex society where thirty years of neoliberal economics and globalising politics have exacerbated inequalities that are differentially experienced by class, ethnicity, gender, sexuality and age. These social divides and problems are at the heart of this text. For sociology students and for a wider audience of New Zealanders, A Land of Milk and Honey? is a lively introduction to where we have come from, where we are now, and where New Zealand society might be headed."

In the past two decades, the terms 'kaupapa Maori' and 'matauranga Maori' have come to prominence in Maori education and research circles. They appear in a wide variety of contexts to articulate and advance certain aspects of Maori education and development. The two terms are generally utilised to support activities designed to generate benefits for Maori and to give expression to Maori ways of doing things, aspects of Maori knowledge and the Maori world view. Interestingly, there are a number of perspectives on the two terms and whilst meanings for both overlap, they are not synonymous. In this article, I present my view of the meaning of kaupapa Maori and matauranga Maori. My background is as a researcher of matauranga Maori, hence my views are presented from this perspective.

As Aotearoa New Zealand grapples with developing solutions to complex issues surrounding its unique freshwater and marine biological heritage, there is a growing recognition that mātauranga Māori can be ‘unlocked’ and used with great effect alongside western science. Examples where appropriate consideration and development of robust methodologies for the application of mātauranga Māori coexisting alongside western science are increasing. Unfortunately, despite the benefits that can be derived from this collaboration, the quality of engagement is not always satisfactory often due to poor interpersonal relationships and misidentification of the knowledge holders. By providing an appropriately historical context, this article is able to consider the critical issues now facing mātauranga and the Māori knowledge holders today, and fundamental requirements that will empower application of this knowledge within bio-heritage management. We consider how the development of a methodology between mātauranga Māori holders and potential end-users might contribute to improved outcomes for Aotearoa’s biological heritage.

Dr Nin Tomas wrote a considered and substantial piece entitled “Indigenous Peoples and the Māori: The Right to Self-Determination in International Law - From Woe to Go” for the New Zealand Law Review published in 2008.² In her conclusion she notes two ways in which self-determination has been implemented by the state: first, by “greater tolerance and benevolence along a series of principled guidelines”,³ and, second, as a “peoples-centred, enabling principle that allows Indigenous peoples to re-establish their social, economic and political institutions”.⁴ In 2010, New Zealand reversed its position and supported the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (the Declaration).5 With this in mind, this short piece revisits the notion of self-determination by examining the differing dynamics of concepts of external and internal self-determination before a short discussion on pluralism and the relationship between tino rangatiratanga and self-determination. In conclusion some thoughts are offered on a potential form of self-determination that could be consistent with the exercise of tino rangatiratanga.

In 1840, English officials on behalf of the British crown signed the Treaty of Waitangi—also known as Te Tiriti o Waitangi—with the Indigenous Māori population, affirming Māori sovereignty and guaranteeing their collective rights to the country’s land and resources. Since the 1700s, English settlers had been arriving in Aotearoa (the Māori name for New Zealand) to capitalize on the seal and whale trade. As the number of settlers increased, reports flowed back to Britain of general lawlessness and dubious private land deals, and the crown was forced to consider how best to control its citizens. A treaty with the Māori, officials decided, was the way to do so. The agreement, which established the basis for the relationship between the Māori and the British, is commonly cited as a shining example of how a treaty can recognize and protect Indigenous peoples’ rights by curtailing the reach of the state. But does te Tiriti live up to its sterling reputation? The answer, of course, is complicated.