It sounds harmless enough. But behind that friendly appeal lies a much bigger assumption: that because te reo Māori is being promoted more extensively, New Zealanders should welcome its increasing presence throughout public life.
That assumption deserves to be challenged.
Nobody is suggesting that Māori people should stop speaking te reo Māori, nor should anyone prevent those who genuinely want to learn it from doing so.
But the freedom to speak a language does not create an obligation for everyone else to adopt it.
The Herald points to 214,000 people who reported being able to speak te reo Māori in the 2023 Census — an increase of 65,000 since 2013 — and presents this as evidence of a language revival.
But 214,000 remains a small minority in a country of more than five million people. The Census figure also tells us little about fluency or frequency of use. Being able to speak some te reo is not the same as using it as an everyday language.
Nor does the figure support the Herald's remarkable suggestion that New Zealand may now have more te reo speakers than before European settlement.
Pre-European Māori population estimates are uncertain, while today's Census measures self-reported language ability. Comparing the two is hardly a sound basis for such a conclusion.
More importantly, the Herald confuses the survival of a language with its entitlement to increasing institutional prominence.
Those are two very different things.
English is New Zealand's common language. It is understood across ethnicities, regions and generations and is the language through which New Zealanders overwhelmingly communicate with one another.
That is not an attack on Māori culture. It is simply a fact.
Yet we are increasingly told that Māori terminology should appear throughout government, councils, public agencies, education, signage and business — not necessarily because it makes communication clearer, but because its use is regarded as culturally desirable.
The Herald even declares: “We can't escape it. And nor should we want to.”
But why should making a language impossible to escape be the objective?
A person's decision to learn or use te reo Māori should be respected. So should the decision not to.
New Zealanders who choose not to learn te reo should not be labelled backward, racist or culturally insensitive. Nor should familiar English names and expressions be progressively displaced simply because Māori alternatives are considered preferable.
What about our children?
The issue becomes more serious when language policy enters the classroom.
Te reo Māori immersion is frequently presented as though it is automatically beneficial and beyond legitimate criticism. It isn't.
Language immersion can be an effective educational technique. But education should serve the interests of children, not become a vehicle for advancing somebody else's political or cultural agenda.
Parents are entitled to ask what their children are being taught, why it is being taught, how much curriculum time it receives and whether it genuinely expands their future opportunities.
Children should not become instruments in a campaign to revive or expand a language.
If te reo Māori has genuine value and relevance to future generations, New Zealanders will choose to learn and use it.
That is how languages have always survived.
Languages have also declined when people stopped using them. Latin is an obvious example. It was once the everyday language of a vast part of Europe; it gradually ceased to be a community language without requiring political suppression. It survives today because people continue to value it for particular purposes.
That is the important principle.
Te reo Māori should be allowed to stand on its own merits.
Let people choose it. Let families choose it. Let communities choose it. Let businesses choose it.
But don't artificially manufacture demand through ever-increasing taxpayer funding, institutional pressure and relentless media promotion.
If a language requires an expanding state-backed apparatus to ensure that people encounter it, that is not evidence of spontaneous linguistic revival. It is evidence of deliberate promotion.
And there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that distinction.
The Herald's argument ultimately rests on an appeal to inevitability:
Te reo is here to stay — so let's embrace it.
But “here to stay” does not mean “must be increasingly promoted, normalised or imposed.”
Māori culture is part of New Zealand's history. Māori language is part of that history too. But New Zealand is not a Māori-speaking country. It is a modern, multicultural democracy whose citizens share a common language: English.
That common language should remain the foundation of public communication.
Te reo Māori should be available to those who want to learn and use it. Its speakers should be free to preserve it and pass it on.
But its long-term future should ultimately be determined by the voluntary choices of New Zealanders — not by politicians, bureaucrats or taxpayer-funded campaigns.
If future generations choose to speak it, it will flourish.
If fewer choose to speak it, that is a natural consequence of a free society.
Respect the language. Respect those who speak it. But respect the right of everyone else to choose.
Language should be a matter of freedom — not conformity.
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.
But the freedom to speak a language does not create an obligation for everyone else to adopt it.
The Herald points to 214,000 people who reported being able to speak te reo Māori in the 2023 Census — an increase of 65,000 since 2013 — and presents this as evidence of a language revival.
But 214,000 remains a small minority in a country of more than five million people. The Census figure also tells us little about fluency or frequency of use. Being able to speak some te reo is not the same as using it as an everyday language.
Nor does the figure support the Herald's remarkable suggestion that New Zealand may now have more te reo speakers than before European settlement.
Pre-European Māori population estimates are uncertain, while today's Census measures self-reported language ability. Comparing the two is hardly a sound basis for such a conclusion.
More importantly, the Herald confuses the survival of a language with its entitlement to increasing institutional prominence.
Those are two very different things.
English is New Zealand's common language. It is understood across ethnicities, regions and generations and is the language through which New Zealanders overwhelmingly communicate with one another.
That is not an attack on Māori culture. It is simply a fact.
Yet we are increasingly told that Māori terminology should appear throughout government, councils, public agencies, education, signage and business — not necessarily because it makes communication clearer, but because its use is regarded as culturally desirable.
The Herald even declares: “We can't escape it. And nor should we want to.”
But why should making a language impossible to escape be the objective?
A person's decision to learn or use te reo Māori should be respected. So should the decision not to.
New Zealanders who choose not to learn te reo should not be labelled backward, racist or culturally insensitive. Nor should familiar English names and expressions be progressively displaced simply because Māori alternatives are considered preferable.
What about our children?
The issue becomes more serious when language policy enters the classroom.
Te reo Māori immersion is frequently presented as though it is automatically beneficial and beyond legitimate criticism. It isn't.
Language immersion can be an effective educational technique. But education should serve the interests of children, not become a vehicle for advancing somebody else's political or cultural agenda.
Parents are entitled to ask what their children are being taught, why it is being taught, how much curriculum time it receives and whether it genuinely expands their future opportunities.
Children should not become instruments in a campaign to revive or expand a language.
If te reo Māori has genuine value and relevance to future generations, New Zealanders will choose to learn and use it.
That is how languages have always survived.
Languages have also declined when people stopped using them. Latin is an obvious example. It was once the everyday language of a vast part of Europe; it gradually ceased to be a community language without requiring political suppression. It survives today because people continue to value it for particular purposes.
That is the important principle.
Te reo Māori should be allowed to stand on its own merits.
Let people choose it. Let families choose it. Let communities choose it. Let businesses choose it.
But don't artificially manufacture demand through ever-increasing taxpayer funding, institutional pressure and relentless media promotion.
If a language requires an expanding state-backed apparatus to ensure that people encounter it, that is not evidence of spontaneous linguistic revival. It is evidence of deliberate promotion.
And there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that distinction.
The Herald's argument ultimately rests on an appeal to inevitability:
Te reo is here to stay — so let's embrace it.
But “here to stay” does not mean “must be increasingly promoted, normalised or imposed.”
Māori culture is part of New Zealand's history. Māori language is part of that history too. But New Zealand is not a Māori-speaking country. It is a modern, multicultural democracy whose citizens share a common language: English.
That common language should remain the foundation of public communication.
Te reo Māori should be available to those who want to learn and use it. Its speakers should be free to preserve it and pass it on.
But its long-term future should ultimately be determined by the voluntary choices of New Zealanders — not by politicians, bureaucrats or taxpayer-funded campaigns.
If future generations choose to speak it, it will flourish.
If fewer choose to speak it, that is a natural consequence of a free society.
Respect the language. Respect those who speak it. But respect the right of everyone else to choose.
Language should be a matter of freedom — not conformity.
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.
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