John Robertson: The Cult of Colonisation Guilt Must Die for New Zealand to Live

New Zealand is not a country. It’s a hostage situation with a national anthem.

At least, that’s how it feels when you turn on the news and get bludgeoned, yet again, with the sob stories of the eternally aggrieved — the priests of the Treaty cult, whose business model depends on dragging up 200-year-old bruises and insisting they’re still bleeding. Generation after generation, like some kind of intergenerational leech.

The so-called Land Back movement is the latest reincarnation of this never-ending grievance circus. It’s less a land claim and more a land grab — a rolling theatre production in which the descendants of Stone Age warlords demand modern real estate, co-governance of public infrastructure, and authority over your drinking water. Why? Because someone else’s great-great-granduncle lost a canoe battle in 1840 and signed something they probably didn’t read.

This is not justice. It’s a confidence trick dressed in flax.

Let’s be clear. Land Back isn’t about land. It’s about leverage. Political, financial, spiritual — all of it extracted through a weaponised version of history, where the only facts that matter are the ones that make modern Māori leadership look holy and everyone else look like colonising parasites.

Never mind that almost everyone in this country is mixed race by now — forget DNA, forget shared identity, forget being born in the same bloody hospital — what matters most, apparently, is the percentage of brown in your blood. You either get a seat at the co-governance table, or you get to shut up and pay for the wine.

Meanwhile, the rest of us — the 21st-century peasants — are expected to bow our heads during state-funded rituals, mumble through ceremonial chants at work functions, and pretend the Treaty is a living, breathing entity that needs feeding. It’s not. It’s a document. A historical footnote. And it’s being twisted into a theological cudgel to batter the secular future of this nation into submission.

New Zealand has become allergic to equality. We’re told that “one law for all” is a dangerous phrase, that equality somehow erases culture. But culture is not a get-out-of-law-free card. Religion doesn’t excuse special treatment. And ancestry should not be a credential for public power.

We are building a theocracy — not a Māori one, not a Pākehā one — but a bureaucratic cult where guilt is compulsory and dissent is called racism.

Well, here’s the dissent.

New Zealand needs a secular spine. One law. One citizen. No tribal vetoes, no ethno-priesthoods, no more political rituals wrapped in bone carvings and subsidised victimhood. We need to gut the grievance industry — cut its funding, pull out the ideological rot in our schools, and defang the legislative parasites that keep racial preference alive.

You want to honour the past? Fine. Build a museum. Write a book. Light a candle.

But don’t you dare use ancient history as a machete to divide a modern nation.

The future belongs to the secular — to those of us who believe in equality without adjectives, democracy without tribal bookmarks, and a society where your rights don’t depend on the shape of your nose or the spelling of your surname.

The gravy train is over. The altar is closed. And the Treaty, for all its sacred status among the race industry clergy, is not a gospel. It’s a document. One that must never outrank democracy.

New Zealand is tired. And when a nation gets tired enough, it stops apologizing - That time is now.

John Robertson is a patriotic New Zealander who frequently posts on Facebook.