Waitangi Day, Te Pati Māori and Nationalism In New Zealand

Nationalism is an ideology designed by the chance of birth or birthplace. It debates ethnicity, culture, race, self-determination, heritage and hierarchy. Who deserves to be here and who doesn’t.

Waitangi Day is this week, and for a lot of people, it’s a day that carries deep meaning—whether that’s as a day of reflection, protest, or celebration. For me, it’s a time to think about my place in Aotearoa, not as tangata whenua, not as Pākehā, and not under any of the labels that often get assigned to migrants, like tangata Tiriti or tauiwi of color, which I don’t really suscribe to, or feel like they reflect me. The best way to define myself is a Mexican born New Zealander citizen, for better or worst.

This week, I want to build on last week’s discussion about populism, nationalism, and the way we think about political narratives in Aotearoa—because if Waitangi Day is about anything, it’s about asking hard questions about who we are and where we’re going.

Photo by Cyrielle on Unsplash

I write because I want us to engage with messy, competing, and often contradictory nuances of political life, and Te Tirti o Waitangi represents just that. Too often, discussions are reduced to ideological purity tests, to liking or disliking politicians, gross oversimplification or to whether an idea has been trialed before rather than whether it’s the right thing to do now, regardless of whether it worked before or not. So lets experiment.

What if the Greens Were a Populists Party, and Te Pāti Māori Were a Nationalists?

Last week, I argued that David Seymour isn’t comparable to Donald Trump—a point that sparked some debate. Some people pushed back, saying Seymour is absolutely a populist. Others dismissed the whole argument, saying his lack of integrity was enough to write him off entirely.

But my point wasn’t about whether we like Seymour—it was about how we analyze political narratives, within the New Zealand government context, our Parliament, MMP and media vs USAs context.

If we judge politicians purely on likability, we’re missing the point and doing it all wrong. For example, I wish Tamatha Paul would engage more on Wellington’s ferry issues and provided more visibility of the challenges of her role, like how much money does she get and what does she use it for. That lack of engagement and focus annoys me. But that doesn’t mean she’s a bad politician, or that I wouldn’t grab a beer with her. Personal feelings aren’t a great metric for political judgment.

Then Shane Jones Said, "Mexicans Should Go Home."

Sigh.

Not just because I’m Mexican and it was an absurd thing to say, but because this isn’t the kind of rhetoric we usually hear in New Zealand politics, at least not overtly. But believe me when I say we do hear it.

So, then I followed the story and ended up hearing Winston Peters saying:

"The very people who are here on the very refuge that we give to them have come here with their ideas, foreign to our country, native to theirs, and they wish to impose them upon our Parliament. No, you don't. You're not going to succeed here. You might be laughing now, but you'll be crying tomorrow. Come to this country, show some gratitude."

And honestly? That kind of nationalist rhetoric is familiar to me. Not just from NZ First, but from Māori leaders in both formal and informal settings, and on both sides of the political spectrum. From Māori sitting in the National Iwi Chairs Forum to staff that reported to me while working for the Public servant.

But in work meetings, hui, and casual conversations, where I’ve been told:

• Migrants are here at the service of Māori.

• Migrant women don’t experience nearly the same level of discrimination as Māori.

• What works for Māori work for everyone, which I fundamentally disagree with.

I’ve heard it all. I’ve pushed back on it. But it’s never been an easy conversation—especially when the people who need perspective are also struggling to keep up with a rapidly changing New Zealand demographic.

I get that Māori face ongoing structural discrimination. I get that they’re fighting for their rights and recognition in a system that was never built for them. But in a country that is now home to asylum seekers, refugees, and economic migrants escaping war and genocide, the idea that all migrants are in debt to Māori isn’t as clear-cut as some might think or socially or politically desirable. And that’s where things get uncomfortable and unsaid, especially for the fifth-class citizen of migrants from non-english speaking countries.

Nationalism Isn’t Just a Right-Wing Phenomenon

We all rightfully condemn NZ First for xenophobic and racist comments.

But what about when similar sentiments come from the Left? From Te Pāti Māori?

Nationalism isn’t inherently a right-wing phenomenon. It’s an adaptable ideology that can be used to support progressive or conservative goals. It thrives on emotional appeal, on a sense of belonging, and on defining who is "in" and who is "out."

Historically, nationalism has been both a force for emancipation—such as in anti-colonial movements—and a tool for exclusion, as seen in far-right movements worldwide. It’s not always bad, but it is always powerful, and that power can be dangerous when it goes unchecked.

I’ve heard nationalist rhetoric in both formal and informal spaces for years—yet it doesn’t receive the same level of scrutiny. And when I try to push back, I often feel like I don’t have permission to.

I’ve been told I don’t understand land theft. I’ve been told migrant struggles aren’t the same as Māori struggles. I’ve had my own colonization history dismissed because it doesn’t fit New Zealand’s framework of oppression.

Again, this isn’t about undermining Māori as tangata whenua. It’s about holding a consistent standard when analyzing political narratives. Politics of grievances is an never-ending bucket of pain and unresolved legacy issues.

Right now, we’re so ideologically consumed that we reduce politics to:

• Markets bad

• Wealth bad

• Renters Victims

• Markets vs. Democracy.

• Liberalism vs. Conservatism.

It’s creating more problems than it’s solving.

• Renters Vs Owners.

• Māori Vs Non-Māori

• And Who we personally think is an asshole.

This oversimplified reality is a big fat problem.

Why This Matters on Waitangi Day

Waitangi Day is meant to be about recognition, accountability, and partnership. But every year, the conversation gets hijacked by:

• Ideological purity tests.

• Who is "allowed" to have an opinion on Te Tiriti.

• Who is "allowed" to shape New Zealand’s future.

• Whose grievances matter more.

We cannot have these discussions in bad faith. We can’t scrutinize some forms of nationalism while ignoring others. The Treaty of Waitangi is a living document—not a museum artifact, not a set of fixed ideas. It requires ongoing dialogue.

And that dialogue must include all of us. Even the ones we disagree with. Even the ones that arrived 100 years later.

Final Thoughts

Shane Jones’ comments weren’t just offensive. They exposed contradictions in how we talk about nationalism, migration, and identity in Aotearoa.

Waitangi Day reminds us that this country was built on a promise of partnership. That promise has been broken many times. But the only way we move forward is through more debate, not less.

A brief reminder that this article is a thought experiment.