In modern New Zealand politics, few concepts have been stretched, reshaped, and weaponised as dramatically as “indigeneity.” What was once a descriptive anthropological term has evolved into a powerful political label, invoked to justify constitutional preferences, resource allocations, and competing visions of national identity. But as the term has gathered political force, it has drifted further from the actual historical record — and further still from the material realities of when human beings first reached these islands.
New Zealand’s Maori settlement story is not a mystery: the scientific, linguistic, archaeological, and genealogical evidence all point to a series of oceanic migrations from East Polynesia, beginning around the 13th century. Māori are not “born of the land” nor sprung from some primordial connection to it — they were settlers. The idea of indigeneity as “original people of the land” simply does not fit the facts of New Zealand’s human timeline.
Yet in modern political rhetoric, indigeneity is increasingly framed not as a neutral historical descriptor but as a source of inherent political authority. The few centuries between Māori arrival and European settlement are presented as an absolute moral boundary, elevating one group of migrants into a quasi-sacred category while placing all others into a permanently lesser one. This is a distortion of history and a dangerous foundation for public policy.
The great irony is that traditional Māori knowledge — the very genealogy that is often invoked today — never supported the idea of Māori emerging spontaneously from the soil of New Zealand. Māori oral tradition is clear: the ancestors came from Hawaiki. The story is one of voyaging, exploration, adaptation, and conquest. Tribal histories contain accounts of displacement, warfare, territorial expansion, and the absorption or destruction of earlier groups. In other words, Māori tradition presents a dynamic, human story — not a myth of timeless possession.
There is also increasing discussion about evidence suggesting that New Zealand’s human timeline may be longer and more complex than the standard 13th-century settlement model. Some researchers argue that emerging scientific work hints at earlier human activity, potentially a thousand years or more before the recognised Polynesian migrations. This would point to New Zealand’s history being one of multiple waves of settlement. These claims are not settled, but their very existence shows how premature it is to anchor modern political structures to rigid historical narratives. (*)
Whether or not future evidence strengthens or weakens these possibilities, the key point remains: indigeneity as a political weapon relies on the assumption that one group holds a timeless, exclusive link to the land. That assumption is inconsistent with the archaeological record, with Māori oral history, and with the ways human migration has shaped every corner of the world.
Trouble begins when modern political frameworks attempt to freeze this fluid, complex history into a simplistic hierarchy of moral entitlement. The concept of indigeneity becomes a political currency: a justification for differential rights, veto powers, and governance structures that elevate ancestry over democratic equality. What began as an anthropological observation becomes a constitutional claim.
This harms everyone. It traps Māori identity within a narrow, politicised definition that reduces living people to symbolic representatives of a mythic past. It prevents New Zealand from building a civic, future-focused national identity. And it fuels resentment by creating categories of citizens — some whose voices are amplified by ancestry and others whose voices are diminished by it.
There is a more constructive path: to acknowledge the full sweep of New Zealand’s human history without mythologising any group. Māori arrived before Europeans, built a unique culture, and endured extraordinary challenges. Europeans arrived later and built institutions that shaped the modern state. Both stories matter. Neither requires the invention of mystical entitlement. A nation built on truth does not need to fabricate sacred origins.
New Zealand’s strength will come not from elevating one group above another based on ancestry, but from reaffirming the principle that took centuries of Western struggle to secure: the equal political rights of all citizens, regardless of birth.
* https://tinyurl.com/285swclp
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.
Yet in modern political rhetoric, indigeneity is increasingly framed not as a neutral historical descriptor but as a source of inherent political authority. The few centuries between Māori arrival and European settlement are presented as an absolute moral boundary, elevating one group of migrants into a quasi-sacred category while placing all others into a permanently lesser one. This is a distortion of history and a dangerous foundation for public policy.
The great irony is that traditional Māori knowledge — the very genealogy that is often invoked today — never supported the idea of Māori emerging spontaneously from the soil of New Zealand. Māori oral tradition is clear: the ancestors came from Hawaiki. The story is one of voyaging, exploration, adaptation, and conquest. Tribal histories contain accounts of displacement, warfare, territorial expansion, and the absorption or destruction of earlier groups. In other words, Māori tradition presents a dynamic, human story — not a myth of timeless possession.
There is also increasing discussion about evidence suggesting that New Zealand’s human timeline may be longer and more complex than the standard 13th-century settlement model. Some researchers argue that emerging scientific work hints at earlier human activity, potentially a thousand years or more before the recognised Polynesian migrations. This would point to New Zealand’s history being one of multiple waves of settlement. These claims are not settled, but their very existence shows how premature it is to anchor modern political structures to rigid historical narratives. (*)
Whether or not future evidence strengthens or weakens these possibilities, the key point remains: indigeneity as a political weapon relies on the assumption that one group holds a timeless, exclusive link to the land. That assumption is inconsistent with the archaeological record, with Māori oral history, and with the ways human migration has shaped every corner of the world.
Trouble begins when modern political frameworks attempt to freeze this fluid, complex history into a simplistic hierarchy of moral entitlement. The concept of indigeneity becomes a political currency: a justification for differential rights, veto powers, and governance structures that elevate ancestry over democratic equality. What began as an anthropological observation becomes a constitutional claim.
This harms everyone. It traps Māori identity within a narrow, politicised definition that reduces living people to symbolic representatives of a mythic past. It prevents New Zealand from building a civic, future-focused national identity. And it fuels resentment by creating categories of citizens — some whose voices are amplified by ancestry and others whose voices are diminished by it.
There is a more constructive path: to acknowledge the full sweep of New Zealand’s human history without mythologising any group. Māori arrived before Europeans, built a unique culture, and endured extraordinary challenges. Europeans arrived later and built institutions that shaped the modern state. Both stories matter. Neither requires the invention of mystical entitlement. A nation built on truth does not need to fabricate sacred origins.
New Zealand’s strength will come not from elevating one group above another based on ancestry, but from reaffirming the principle that took centuries of Western struggle to secure: the equal political rights of all citizens, regardless of birth.
* https://tinyurl.com/285swclp
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.

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