Concepts:Kotahitanga/Tukahia Ngataki, Karishma Kelsey

Kotahitanga is the heartbeat of collective life in te ao Māori—unity woven not from sameness, but from the strength of many threads moving as one. Rooted in whakapapa –the genealogical ties linking all beings back to a shared origin–, it binds people, whenua, waters, ancestors, and the unseen in a web of reciprocity and care. From Tāwhaki’s sacred ascent, sustained by ancestral guidance, to the Tainui waka’s ocean crossing, kotahitanga has guided survival, resistance, and renewal. It lives in the Kīngitanga’s call to stand together, in Dame Whina Cooper’s 1975 Land March, and in the 300,000 voices who opposed the 2024 attempt to weaken Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

As defined by
Tukahia Ngataki and Karishma Kelsey

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"Kotahitanga is grounded in a Māori worldview built on whakapapa (genealogical connection), pūrākau (ancestral narratives), and the interconnection of all life. It arises from a cosmology in which land, waters, people, ancestors, and atua (spiritual beings) exist in constant relationship."

Concepts:Kotahitanga

Kotahitanga – The Value of Unity in Māori Lore and Life Kotahitanga is a Māori way of being meaning unity, collective solidarity, and togetherness. Derived from kotahi (one) and the suffix -tanga (a state of being), it speaks to becoming one — not through sameness or assimilation, but through whakawhanaungatanga (relationship building), reciprocity, and shared purpose. It affirms the strength that emerges when people move as one, each retaining their mana while contributing to a common kaupapa. Historically, kotahitanga guided iwi and hapū collaboration, especially in times of challenge or decision-making. From constructing a waka taua (war canoe) to defending a pā (fortified village), collective efforts were essential to survival and resilience. These were not acts of blind consensus, but of deep relational accountability where every contribution mattered and every voice carried weight. “Mā te kotahitanga e whai kaha ai tātau” — “in unity we find strength.” “Ki te kotahi te kākaho ka whati, ki te kāpuia, e kore e whati” — “a single reed will break, but a bundle is unbreakable”. These whakataukī (proverbs) carry the same truth found in the metaphor of the waka: many paddlers, moving in rhythm toward a shared horizon, each stroke vital to the collective journey. Kotahitanga is grounded in a Māori worldview built on whakapapa (genealogical connection), pūrākau (ancestral narratives), and the interconnection of all life. It arises from a cosmology in which land, waters, people, ancestors, and atua (spiritual beings) exist in constant relationship. Unity is not an abstract ideal but a lived rhythm that sustains the mauri (life force) of collective wellbeing. For the Waikato–Tainui, kotahitanga is a living principle shaped by the legacy of the Kīngitanga movement. For tangata Tiriti allies, it is an active responsibility to walk alongside mana whenua in the work of healing and restoration. Today, it is renewed in movements for justice — from historic hīkoi to the recent nationwide marches opposing the Treaty of Waitangi Amendment Bill. These are not solely Māori struggles, but calls for an Aotearoa where Māori, Pasifika, and all immigrant communities live in balance, grounded in respect, relationship, and collective responsibility. Philosophies and Practices In te ao Māori, kotahitanga is not merely “unity” but a way of being grounded in a deeply relational worldview. Rooted in whakapapa (genealogical connection), tikanga (cultural protocols), and pūrākau (ancestral stories), it lives in the relationships between people, land, atua (spiritual forces), and generations past and future. Unity is never about conformity — it is about relationship, reciprocity, and collective purpose. Traditional Māori life centred on whānau, hapū, and iwi — each with autonomy, yet ready to gather in times of need. From building waka taua (war canoes) and wharenui (meeting houses) to planting kai or defending a pā, survival relied on trust, shared responsibility, and interdependence. These were acts of deep relational accountability — everyone had a role, and each contribution held mana. The pūrākau of Tāwhaki offers a sacred lens into this philosophy. According to Tainui (local tribe) Tāwhaki, a revered ancestor, ascends to the heavens seeking ngā kete o te wānanga — the baskets of sacred knowledge. His journey is not solitary; guided by his grandmother Whaitiri and sustained by whakapapa, he succeeds through relationships — with whānau, with atua, and with the world around him. The ascent teaches that great transformations require collective effort, humility, and ancestral alignment – acknowledge that collective part of ancestry and larger way of being that is interconnected to earth and all its systems–. In other words, kotahitanga in spiritual form: the power to rise together. The migration of the Tainui waka further shows kotahitanga as a lived practice. Under rangatira Hoturoa, the voyage from Hawaiki to Aitutaki and on to Aotearoa across all of Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa demanded navigation skill, endurance, and unity. Upon arrival in Aotearoa, Tainui descendants sustained kotahitanga through marae, whenua, and shared tikanga. The proverb “Mō tātou, ā, mō kā uri ā muri ake nei” — “for us and for our children after us” — expresses this ethic of collective responsibility. As whakataukī remind us: Nāu te rourou, nāku te rourou, ka ora ai te iwi — with your food basket and mine, the people will thrive. And in times of challenge: He waka kōtuia kāhore e tukutukua ngā mimira — a canoe bound together will not come apart at the seams. Kotahitanga in Collective Movements During colonisation, kotahitanga became a rallying principle for Māori resistance, governance, and renewal. As land was taken and sovereignty undermined, unity became a political and spiritual force. In 1834, northern chiefs selected a national flag — Te Waka Māori — for the newly formed United Tribes of New Zealand, affirming independence. The following year, they signed He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Niu Tīreni (Declaration of Independence), asserting Māori sovereignty before British annexation. After the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi (1840), the Kīngitanga (Māori King Movement) emerged in 1858 within Waikato, rooted in Tainui whakapapa. It sought to unify iwi under a symbolic leader to protect land, uphold mana motuhake, and offer spiritual leadership. The first Maaori king, Pōtatau Te Wherowhero of Ngāti Mahuta, offered the enduring whakataukī: “Kotahi te kōhao o te ngira e kuhuna ai te miro mā, te miro pango, te miro whero” — “there is but one eye of the needle through which the white, black, and red threads must pass.” The Kīngitanga remains a pillar of Māori unity. In 2024, days before his passing, Kīngi Tūheitia urged: “Mana motuhake has room for everyone. Let’s get in the waka and work together.” In the 1890s, Te Kotahitanga — the Māori Parliament — brought iwi together to debate policy outside Crown control. In 1975, Dame Whina Cooper led the Māori Land March, uniting generations with the call: “Not one more acre of Māori land.” Today, kotahitanga thrives in iwi alliances, kapa haka, kaupapa Māori education, and environmental restoration. As Moana Jackson noted, Māori law and values are “built on a memory of relatedness,” where unity arises from deep respect and shared responsibility.

Challenges In a colonised world, even sacred values can be hollowed out. Kotahitanga is sometimes invoked in speeches, policy, and branding — yet absent in practice. Calls for “unity” can mask inequity, reinforcing the dominance of one worldview. In Aotearoa, the language of “unity” and “partnership” floats above an enduring reality: systemic inequity, racial hierarchy, and the dominance of one worldview over another. Te reo Māori is still not the language of the public square. Māori knowledge remains marginalised in many schools and institutions, treated as an optional extra rather than an equal foundation. Policy still reflects a logic of separation — one group leads, the other follows; one speaks, the other is asked to translate. This is not kotahitanga. This is control dressed in the language of togetherness. The proposed Treaty Principles Amendment Bill (2024–2025) exposes the fracture. It seeks to redefine the principles of Te Tiriti o Waitangi through a singular, Pākehā lens — stripping away the relational, constitutional intent of the Treaty and replacing it with a framework of Crown dominance.. As many Māori leaders have warned, the bill is an attempt to silence Indigenous voices, re-centre power, and dismantle the very foundation of the Māori–Crown relationship. Kotahitanga, in its truest form, was always woven into Te Tiriti. It was the relational promise that two peoples, each with distinct tikanga and ways of being, could walk forward together in mutual respect and shared guardianship of the land. That promise has never been fully honoured — and now, it is under direct threat. Moana Jackson’s warning feels sharper than ever: “The problem with words like unity in a colonised context is that they can be used to demand silence, rather than invite justice.” We are told to “come together” — but on whose terms? When unity is demanded without equity, it becomes assimilation. When Māori call for justice, we are met with delay, denial, or polite deflection. The risk is that kotahitanga becomes a performance,severed from the lived accountability it demands. Even in education, a sector that often claims to honour Māori worldviews, kotahitanga is too easily reduced to slogans: teamwork, harmony, collaboration. Rarely is it understood as the whakapapa-bound ethic of collective responsibility, interdependence, and intergenerational care that it truly is. True kotahitanga is not comfortable. It is not the easy agreement of the powerful with the powerless. It is a call to confront fractures, to face our histories, and to choose repair over rhetoric. Opportunities Despite the challenges, kotahitanga remains a source of strength, renewal, and radical possibility. When rooted in whakapapa and practiced with integrity, kotahitanga offers not only Māori communities, but the wider world, a vision for collective flourishing. Matike Mai Aotearoa envisions it as a pathway to shared authority grounded in tikanga and mutual accountability.n kaupapa Māori education, for example, learners and teachers co-construct knowledge in whānau-based environments that centre intergenerational trust, responsibility, and shared meaning. In kura kaupapa and wharekura across the motu, kotahitanga is enacted through collective inquiry, decision-making with tamariki, and collaborative care for whānau wellbeing. In environmental governance, kotahitanga is embodied through iwi-led partnerships that restore ancestral rivers, forests, and coastlines. The Waikato River Co-Governance Settlement (2010), for example, shows how tribal leadership and Crown bodies can share responsibility for ecosystem wellbeing, grounded in whakapapa and intergenerational accountability. The annual Poukai, established by Kīngi Tāwhiao in 1885, embodies kotahitanga as manaakitanga and redistributive care. Youth-led movements, such as the Ihumātao occupation, have carried kotahitanga into new generations, weaving unity across iwi, cultures, and causes. In 2024, when the government sought to amend Te Tiriti principles, over 300,000 submissions opposed the bill, and the largest hīkoi since 1975 moved through the country — a living demonstration of kotahitanga in action. Kotahitanga offers an alternative to fragmentation. In a world facing climate collapse and disconnection, it teaches that healing lies in reconnection — to each other, to whenua, and to ancestral wisdom. .

Visuals

Figure 1: : Symbol for Kothi tanga - the interlocking of two waves -

Further reading Angela Ballara — Te Kīngitanga: The People of the Māori King Movement (1996, AUP)

A foundational history of the Kīngitanga from Pōtatau onward. Shows kotahitanga as a political–spiritual practice that unifies iwi while protecting mana motuhake—essential context for your Section 2.2 arc.

Pei Te Hurinui Jones & Bruce Biggs — Ngā Iwi o Tainui (AUP)

Authoritative Tainui whakapapa, migrations, and traditions. Grounds kotahitanga in the Tainui story—Hoturoa, settlement, marae networks—linking your Tāwhaki/Tainui philosophy to lived governance.

Aroha Harris — Hīkoi: Forty Years of Māori Protest (2004)

A richly illustrated account of collective action from the 1960s onward. Traces how kotahitanga is enacted in the streets—Dame Whina Cooper’s 1975 march, Bastion Point, and beyond—bridging history and present movements.

Imagining Decolonisation (Abigail Shiu, Bianca Elkington, Moana Jackson, and others, 2020). This little book is like a gentle but powerful invitation into the journey of decolonisation. It brings together voices from across Aotearoa who share not just analysis, but heart — stories, visions, and pathways for imagining a different future. It’s both grounding and uplifting, reminding us that decolonisation is not abstract theory, but lived relationships and possibilities for healing. Films / series

• • Whina (2022, feature film)**

The life of Dame Whina Cooper culminating in the 1975 Land March. A moving portrait of intergenerational unity—kotahitanga on the whenua—and mana wahine leadership.

• • Bastion Point: Day 507 (1980, documentary)**

Merata Mita’s landmark film on the occupation and eviction at Takaparawhau. A powerful study of pan-iwi solidarity and disciplined, relational unity under pressure.