2. The white possessive, settler colonialism, and biculturalism at Te Papa

Moreton-Robinson’s concept of the “white possessive” outlines the methods through which governments on Indigenous lands exert dominance over Indigenous territories and resources via legal, cultural, and ideological frameworks. It shows how cultural narratives are controlled and dominated by white settlers/invaders as a natural entitlement. From this perspective, whiteness functions as an unrecognised norm that legitimises the state’s possession and administration of Indigenous lands. However, the white possessive expands beyond material land ownership. It explains that white normativity and whiteness have ideological control over national narratives, legal systems, and cultural identity, asserting whiteness as the central authority.Footnote ²⁰ The white possessive “is helpful in the present context insofar as it allows us to recognise the problems with biculturalism.”Footnote ²¹ Moreton-Robinson notes that comparable dynamics are evident in settler/invader colonial nations such as Aotearoa New Zealand, Australia, and Canada, where Indigenous art, language, and symbols are incorporated into national branding and public spaces. Although these gestures are commonly framed as an acknowledgement or a celebration of Indigenous cultures, they often reinforce settler/invader power by recontextualising these cultures within settler narratives. This critique is central to discussions about decolonisation and the ways in which Indigenous peoples resist the commodification of Indigenous cultures, asserting our right to define and protect our cultural heritage.

Moreton-Robinson contends that settler organisations frequently commercialise Indigenous culture to enhance national identity. Te Papa’s exhibitions, which often emphasise Māori art and heritage, serve a comparable function. Although they honour Māori culture, they frequently operate within a framework that prioritises colonial narratives of reconciliation and togetherness. This method conceals the fundamental injustices that endure under settler/invader authority and frames Māori culture as a commodity for national branding instead of a basis for sovereignty. This is most pointedly noted in the recent debates on the place of haka and politics.Footnote ²²

A form of colonialism marked by the entrance of colonists seeking permanent settlement in the colonised area is known as settler/invader colonialism. Unlike extractive colonialism, settler colonialism calls for the eradication of Indigenous people in order to assert and justify the sovereignty of the territory.Footnote ²³ Numerous other historiographies of Indigenous origin exist, as J. Kēhaulani Kauanui argues in “A Structure, Not an Event.”Footnote ²⁴ From a Māori point of view, my own studies have shown that Puhiwahine starts this epistemic genesis for settler colonialism.Footnote ²⁵ Elimination has been implemented in Aotearoa New Zealand under methods such as systematic land confiscation and alienation under colonial law, legislative disenfranchisement (including the Native Land Court), forced assimilation policies (such as the Native Schools system), and the suppression of te reo Māori, history, and tikanga.Footnote ²⁶ This theory’s central tenet is that settler colonialism is supported by the concept of eradicating the Indigenous population—physically, culturally, and/or politically—to impose settler/invader supremacy and permanency.Footnote ²⁷

Within the context of Aotearoa New Zealand, I have previously argued that a shift in terminology is necessary from “settler colonialism” to the more apt “settler/invader colonialism.”Footnote ²⁸ The term “invader” highlights the violent, aggressive, and intrusive characteristics of colonisation, reframing colonisation as a continuous process of domination by emphasising the act of invasion and structural forgetting. Utilising this term challenges the aforementioned structural forgetting and misinformation present in the Aotearoa New Zealand society.Footnote ²⁹

The term “settler colonialism” may in fact represent an academic sanitisation of the violent and destructive nature of the settler/invader colonising/colonial act. In contrast, “settler/invader colonialism” more accurately reflects the hostility and damage intrinsic to the colonial endeavour. It illustrates the continuous character of colonialism, which is sustained by political, legal, and cultural frameworks that uphold white supremacy and possession. The term “settler/invader” is therefore employed to support Indigenous frameworks that prioritise sovereignty and resistance.Footnote ³⁰ It rejects the normalisation of the colonial state’s legitimacy, instead spotlighting Indigenous authority and kaitiakitanga (guardian, stewardship) regarding land and governance.Footnote ³¹

Te Papa exemplifies the white possessive by employing biculturalism as a strategy that reinforces the white patriarchal sovereignty of the settler/invader government. The administration and operational processes of the museum often validate colonial claims of nationhood, depicting Māori as cultural contributors rather than political agents. The museum creates an impression of equal cooperation while concealing the historical realities of land appropriation and colonial violence. This usage may contribute to the normalisation of a softened “settler colonialism,” which reinforces the mythology surrounding settlers/invaders by suggesting a more passive or benign interpretation of the settlement process, as in former Prime Minister John Key’s claim that New Zealand was “settled peacefully.”Footnote ³² This can be interpreted as a “move to innocence,”Footnote ³³ wherein settlers/invaders are transformed into legitimate and benevolent occupiers.

Conversely, the term “invader” underscores active participation in the ongoing dispossession, oppression and subjugation of Indigenous peoples, highlighting settler/invader complicity and violent origins. Adopting manuhiri (guest) as a relational framework provides an alternative terminology that respects Pākehā presence on whenua Māori as dependent, transient, and subject to tikanga. This changes power relations by putting settlers/invaders not as owners or partners on equal footing but as guests who must respect Māori authority and stewardship, therefore creating space for real structural transformation towards mana motuhake.

What is the relationship between the white possessive and settler/invader colonialism? The appropriation of Indigenous lands occurred through questionable methods, such as the Waikato land wars.Footnote ³⁴ This was accomplished through the integration of ownership within the legal and moral frameworks defined by settler/invader standards and norms. Doctrines like terra nullius, which claim that land is unowned, rely on the assertion that only settler/invader systems of ownership are valid, with where the legal and moral frameworks established by settler/invader standards.Footnote ³⁵ Countries characterised as settler/invader states, such as Aotearoa New Zealand, are often portrayed as culturally superior. The prevalent cultural dominance within society undermines mātauranga Māori and Indigenous governance, reinforcing settlers/invaders’ claims to legitimacy. This process imposes narratives as “universal truths,” perpetuating the erasure of Indigenous sovereignty, or mana motuhake.

Settler/invader colonialism relies on the concept of white possessiveness to sustain the existing status quo, perpetually envisioning a future grounded in unchallenged settler/invader permanence and dominance. Policies and practices that incorporate Indigenous peoples within settler/invader systems frequently co-opt Indigenous identity, culture and knowledges while preserving settler/invader dominance. This constitutes the foundation of biculturalism.Footnote ³⁶ Moreover, settler/invader colonialism is sustained by the white possessive, which is evident in the ongoing commodification of the taiao (environment). Colonial economies thrive on appropriated and exploited lands that were often seized unjustifiably. This structure is defined by legal and economic systems supported by racial capital, with property rights and the protection of settler/invader wealth as foundational elements.

In this discussion, I must highlight three points regarding the relationship between settler/invader colonialism and the white possessive. First, settler/invader colonialism enacts the white possessive by removing Indigenous sovereignty and redefining land and resources as “property” and/or “possessions” of the settler/invader government. This occurs in a situation where the settler/invader state claims that only it can possess sovereignty and land and that this privileged ownership of the settler/invader system is embedded in the law, governance processes and structures, and treaties. Secondly, the settler/invader colonial system seeks and disregards by replacing Indigenous people, worldviews, and governance structures. This is promulgated by the white possessive claim that settlers/invaders have the right to possess and define the land. Lastly, the white possessive rejects the validity of Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination. Indigenous claims and knowledge are thus framed as troublesome, disruptive, and menacing to the “legitimate” settler/invader state continuing the perpetuation of settler/invader colonial power.

The state’s declaration of ownership is integrated into the normative behaviour, rules of interaction, and social engagement of its citizens. This is most prominently expressed through the state and the judiciary. Possession and virtue constitute elements of the ontological framework of patriarchal white sovereignty, which is sustained by its socio-discursive operations within society and facilitated by the state’s authority.Footnote ³⁷ Moreton-Robinson also highlights that patriarchal white sovereignty is mobilised through a possessive logic as a component of state formation and regulation.Footnote ³⁸ This is a rationalisation rather than a collection of positions leading to a definitive conclusion, driven by an overwhelming desire to maintain and reinforce the white possessive state’s ownership, control, and dominance. The possessive logic of patriarchal white sovereignty requires the denial and rejection of that which it cannot possess: the sovereignty, or mana, of the Indigenous other.Footnote ³⁹

Underpinning all of this is a shared ideological basis for both the white possessive and settler/invader colonialism: white supremacy. Settlers/invaders rely on racial hierarchies to sustain the oppression of Indigenous peoples and the continued bolstering of settlers/invaders as the deserving and legitimate heir to the land. The cultural and psychological rationale for the structural and material dispossessions undertaken by settler/invader colonialism is based on dehumanising Indigenous peoples, erasing their histories and links to land, and creating narratives that justify settlers’ domination and entitlement, sustaining systems of white supremacy and everlasting possession and occupation.

Additionally, to achieve decolonisation, the white possessive must be challenged and dismantled by actively questioning and critiquing settler/invader governance, ownership, possession, and cultural domination. Ultimately, the recognition and reassertion of mana motuhake is key to overcoming settler/invader colonialism. It requires re-establishing healthy relationships with the taiao, which transcend the settler/invader framework of possession and white supremacy.

3. Curating amnesia: Cultural memory, historiographophobia, and the myth of bicultural reconciliation

Collective and cultural memory theories illuminate the role of museums, such as Te Papa, in constructing a national identity and historical awareness. Cultural memory comprises the symbolic and material used to safeguard and impart these memories. In contrast, collective memory refers to the shared recollections that form the basis for group identification.Footnote ⁴⁰ Cultural institutions like museums act as key facilitators of cultural memory and shape narratives that affect a nation’s view of its past and future. The exhibitions at Te Papa contrast and harmonise the histories of Māori, as tāngata whenua (people of the land, Indigenous), and Pākehā, as tāngata tiriti (people of the treaty).Footnote ⁴¹ Being bicultural limits the museum’s ability to offer a sophisticated and broad understanding of colonisation: as an institution, it portrays an equal partnership in nation-building between Māori and Pākehā. This myth-making of a reconciled history overlooks the ongoing and lasting processes of colonisation and the settler/invader structure that legitimises and constructed this museum as a cultural institution. In this sense, these persistent processes are sustained by Te Papa.

Te Papa’s grounding in the bicultural paradigm constrains its operational approach. This is particularly evident in the narrative it promotes around the Treaties of Waitangi. The museum asserts the Treaty’s importance but frequently emphasises its function as a foundational document for the nation instead of presenting it as a contentious deal with lingering sovereignty concerns. This account corresponds to the Crown’s policy of utilising the Treaty to validate its authority while diminishing Māori claims over land, taonga, and governance.Footnote ⁴²

The limitations of Te Papa’s bicultural narrative, as shaped by its role in constructing collective and cultural memory, are further compounded by a pervasive aversion to critical historical reflection within national discourse. This institutional reluctance to fully engage with the contested and political nature of Te Tiriti o Waitangi manifests not only in exhibition curation but also in broader structural commitments to reconciliatory mythos. As the museum enacts a performative harmony between Māori and Pākehā, it suppresses the unresolved tensions and disparities rooted in colonial dispossession. This sets the stage for a deeper examination of how Te Papa’s framing of Te Tiriti is underpinned by what Boswell terms “historiographophobia”—a reluctance to confront the complexities, contradictions, and colonial manipulations embedded within New Zealand’s foundational texts and their modern-day institutional expressions.Footnote ⁴³

Boswell’s concept of “historiographophobia” describes a phenomenon with high relevance to the ideas highlighted in this article. Boswell defines this as “a phobia for historiographical reflexivity.”Footnote ⁴⁴ The uncritical use of the term “New Zealander” is part of this phenomenon and replicates the displacement and replacement that are evident in the slippage of identity, for example, from Māori to Pākehā/colonial to Kiwi over time. It is a pervasive aspect of the myth or narrative of New Zealand that it simply “took shape”—it just occurred. These representations do not entail the destructive unmaking or remaking of an existing white settler/invader lifeworld. Māori are notably absent from the majority of the discourse, and when they do appear, they embody the illusions of harmonious race relations.Footnote ⁴⁵

In this context, I argue that historiographophobia is a key feature of Te Papa and the Crown’s approach to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. In my recent works, I highlight the contested and complicated nature of Te Tiriti. Since 2014, the Waitangi Tribunal’s report, “Te Paparahi o Te Raki,” determined that the Māori signatories of Te Tiriti o Waitangi did not cede mana motuhake (Indigenous sovereignty) to the Crown.Footnote ⁴⁶ This finding undermines the entire legal and philosophical framework of the white-possessive settler/invader colonial state of Aotearoa New Zealand. It contradicts pre-2014 interpretations that Māori were only entitled to tino rangatiratanga (self-determination) based on the existence of and rights guaranteed by a sovereign and legitimate New Zealand settler/invader government.Footnote ⁴⁷

The Treaties of Waitangi are considered a tool of settler/invader colonialism that is complex and heavily contested. For the most part, Te Tiriti had not been subjected to this level of critical scrutiny until I began publishing in this area. Since the publication of Ruth Ross’s seminal study, Te Tiriti o Waitangi: Texts and Translations, scholarship has largely shifted towards a rights-based discourse within the government’s bicultural policy framework—one that rhetorically celebrates inclusivity while obscuring the ongoing dispossession, perpetuating inequities and inequalities, and undermining of Māori sovereignty.Footnote ⁴⁸ This discourse paints Te Tiriti as promoting inclusivity, but in reality, rights-based discourses are a distraction from the removal of the moral position of Indigenous peoples to make the settler/invader government look benevolent.Footnote ⁴⁹

While Te Tiriti and its predecessor document of 1835, He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tireni (“He Whakaputnga”; The Declaration of Independence of New Zealand), hold significance, they are not universally applicable within Te Ao Māori.Footnote ⁵⁰ The current focus on the importance of these two documents is threefold. It reflects the historical context and current situation of Taitokerau hapū (clan) and iwi (Indigenous nation), encapsulating the Taitokerau (Northern iwi) narrative.Footnote ⁵¹ This Taitokerau narrative is taught pedagogically and widely assumed, in public discourse, to be universal across many different academic fields and the educational and governmental systems. It seeks to address the concerns of politically radicalised Māori and endorses the government’s response to the protest movement of the 1970s and 1980s.Footnote ⁵² Since the 1970s, this narrative has aligned with the political objectives of successive governments, supporting their assertions of sovereignty and the advancement of the biculturalism policy platform.Footnote ⁵³

Te Tiriti’s denial started presumably before the ink even dried. Colonial newspaper editorials publicly attacked the Treaty as early as 1840, casting doubt on its legality and therefore weakening its power.Footnote ⁵⁴ Between the lines that Fletcher highlights in the English treaty, it is abundantly evident that Te Tiriti got little attention in London following its arrival later that year, eclipsed by the vociferous interventions of Edward Gibbon Wakefield and his associates—whose main goal was to protect and legitimise their land “purchases.”Footnote ⁵⁵

Thus, my criticism of the prevailing viewpoint of Te Tiriti focuses on the choice to build an imagined nation based on biculturalism instead of highlighting how settler/invader governments have claimed their right to sovereignty via the English text of the Treaty of Waitangi and proceeded to disregard and nullify Te Tiriti, as exemplified by the Wi Parata case.Footnote ⁵⁶ Such approaches were motivated by colonial land confiscation and the active dispossession of the Indigenous population motivated by the protection of racial capital.

Johnson outlines a definitional spectrum for biculturalism, from “soft” techniques at one end to “hard” versions at the other, through “moderate,” “inclusive,” and “strong” approaches. Techniques categorised as soft involve the integration of Māori culture and the eradication of discrimination and prejudice.Footnote ⁵⁷ Moderate, inclusive, and strong approaches aim to diminish disparities, ensure cultural appropriateness, and grant Māori a degree of autonomy. Advocates of strict definitions seek to transform society to attain tino rangatiratanga and mana motuhake.Footnote ⁵⁸

Despite these types of approaches, Jessica Terruhn notes that:

Biculturalism often results in a superficial integration of Māori culture, neglecting to address structural inequalities rooted in colonialism. This distances Te Tiriti from its revolutionary potential by redefining it as an instrument of assimilation rather than a means for Māori sovereignty, especially when the actual text is overlooked in favour of “Treaty principles.” Mikaere notes that a prevalent misconception influencing Treaty jurisprudence and its societal interpretation is the assumption that Te Tiriti and the Treaty are interconnected. Their characterisation as English and Māori texts within a single document underscores the absurdity of pursuing this perspective to its logical conclusion. It frequently entails an unrealistic expectation that the two documents can be effectively analysed in conjunction, leading to reliance on the statutory mechanism of “Treaty principles” to resolve the “tensions” between them. This effort to reconcile fundamentally opposing perspectives has resulted in confusion and has enabled the spread of a misleading “truth” that gives Te Tiriti over the Treaty. This has resulted in the marginalisation of another important historical document, He Whakaputanga.Footnote ⁶⁰

Treaty principles are foundational to the operation of Te Papa as an organ of the Crown. This demonstrates the significant push towards reconciliation through Māori consultation, partnership, and participation in policymaking. These processes grant Māori culture symbolic recognition that avoids meaningful recognition of mana motuhake. More complications for the apparent “goodness” of biculturalism arise from political events like the Foreshore and Seabed Act and the recent Treaty Principles Bill promoted by the ACT Party. These legislative developments highlight biculturalism’s susceptibility and its inability to protect and provide for mana motuhake. Rather than increasing the equity and equality of Māori, biculturalism signals the settler/invader government’s unilateral authority over key cultural and legal infrastructure, such as museums. In normative policymaking, rights are weaponised against the Indigenous population to enact a simulacrum of settler/invader government benevolence. Meanwhile, much more effective mana motuhake is ignored. However, in the context of the national museum, rights and representation are provided to make the settler/invader colonial entity look positive, but it is purposefully devoid of mana.

This situation is made worse by the fact the universal nature of Te Tiriti for all Māori lacks foundation. In my previous research on mana motuhake, I shed light on prior forms of authority of hapū and iwi that predate Te Tiriti, such as mana motuhake. These forms of authority challenge the settler/invader government’s claim to white patriarchal sovereignty. Notably, the narratives of a cultural institution based on biculturalism, created under the “authority” of the Crown, are significantly impugned by what I have termed “non-signatory hapū and iwi.” My critique centres on the fact that not all hapū and iwi signed Te Tiriti; therefore, Te Tiriti represents a form of settler/invader oppression for these groups.Footnote ⁶¹ Like signatory hapū and iwi, as a result of the Te Paprahi o Te Raki report that affirmed that the mana motuhake of signatory parties was not given to the settler/invader government, I argue that if you did not sign, mana motuhake is still maintained.Footnote ⁶² Consequently, the sovereignty of the Crown should be considered non-existent. In this light, the perpetuation of Te Tiriti within Te Papa is a form of historiographophobia in that it denies the realities of non-signatory hapū and iwi.

A significant element of my critique focuses on non-signatory hapū and iwi. The argument here is that not all Māori signed Te Tiriti, and for many, the Treaty holds little relevance in asserting their sovereignty or mana.Footnote ⁶³ Te Tiriti can therefore be seen as an instrument for building and extending a political covenant that began with He Whakaputanga rather than one aimed at building a partnership or a nation. Further complications arise from the fact that in terms of population numbers, I can assert that the majority of Māori never signed Te Tiriti and be fairly comfortable that this assertion is correct.Footnote ⁶⁴

4. Political action and Te Papa’s biculturalism

On 11 December 2023, Te Papa’s Treaties of Waitangi exhibition “Signs of a Nation” was “vandalised” in a protest action by Waka Hourua, a protest group that aimed to highlight the inadequate presentation of the Treaty of Waitangi. As reported by the Otago Daily Times, a man was arrested after abseiling down the face of the wooden textual display of the Treaty of Waitangi and using an angle grinder and black spray paint to edit the textual display.Footnote ⁶⁵ The exhibition, which apposes the texts of both treaties, focuses on the differences in their compositions. This was a feature in the historical and sociopolitical discussion and scholarship in Aotearoa New Zealand around Te Tiriti.

The primary aim of the Waka Hourua protest was to insist that Te Papa remove the English Treaty text from display. The group argued that its display misrepresents the legally valid treaty, that is, Te Tiriti o Waitangi.Footnote ⁶⁶ Importantly, Te Waka Hourua had previously demanded that the exhibition be modified. They argued that the English treaty informs a continual misrepresentation of the meaning of Te Tiriti and the unfounded cession of sovereignty, an unimaginable possibility.Footnote ⁶⁷ The group’s spokesperson, Haimana Hirini, commented that the exhibition misleads visitors into assuming that the English text is a direct translation of Te Tiriti, which it is not: “While Te Tiriti affirms Māori sovereignty, the English document says it was ceded,” Hirini stated. This results in miseducation about Te Tiriti, which produces people who do not know about the promises that were made to Māori, thus feeding fearfulness and division (be they real or imagined). This controversy highlights Te Papa’s role as a national museum and the importance of providing an accurate and transparent representation of the Treaties, including translations for all to read and understand.Footnote ⁶⁸

Contextually, Waka Hourua’s actions draw attention to the contemporary and historical contestation of Aotearoa New Zealand’s colonial histories in significant cultural and political institutions. The group’s protest is consistent with continuous actions by Māori to affirm the legal status of Te Tiriti. While clearly controversial, the public protest act highlighted the continued misrepresentation of Aotearoa New Zealand’s national cultural memory and the so-called “founding document(s),” as well as the need to address this misrepresentation. Furthermore, these contested histories support strongly ingrained structural inequalities in Aotearoa New Zealand that generate significant material differences in health, education, income, and justice outcomes between Māori and non-Māori communities.

5. Implications of this research

Te Papa Tongarewa is at a pivotal point in its development as a cultural institution. Accordingly, this article calls for a reassessment of the foundational principles guiding its operations and governance. The museum has the potential to exemplify the future direction of Aotearoa New Zealand. As highlighted above, the Foreshore and Seabed Act, the Treaty Principles Bill, and the Waka Hourua protest action clearly demonstrate the failures of biculturalism. The lack of consideration for the realities of non-signatory hapū and iwi and the findings of the Te Paparahi o Te Raki report challenge problems that sustain settler/invader colonialism, white patriarchal sovereignty, and symbolic recognition. To envision and bring to life a transformative museum, Te Papa must transcend biculturalism. I argue that models of governance based on relational ethics and tikanga must be implemented to achieve this. This begs the question of how Te Papa should proceed and what it should consider.

In proposing a new trajectory, the concept of relationality becomes foundational. This framework insists on a departure from symbolic and settler-defined notions of partnership, towards governance arrangements that are informed by Indigenous ontologies, epistemologies, and lived experiences. Te Papa should undertake to depart from the bicultural “imagined nation” that perpetuates white possession and settler/invader colonialism. It must embrace a new relationality-based framework that is founded on mātauranga Māori and lived historical experiences and realities. An innovative governance model that promotes Indigenous leadership and mana motuhake will enable Te Papa to confront and—hopefully—overcome its settler/invader colonial foundations and context.

Another problem with biculturalism and its relationship to relationality is that it is based on the contested notions of Tāngata Whenua and Tāngata Tiriti. Under biculturalism, Tāngata Whenua is co-opted and used, as a less potent term denoting the people of the land, to deliberately deny mana motuhake and the more appropriate notion of “mana whenua.” Biculturalists coined the non-Indigenous equivalent “Tāngata Tiriti” based on universal Treaty narratives that exemplify settler/invader colonialism.Footnote ⁶⁹ In practice, Tāngata Tiriti is seen as an unfounded claim to Indigeneity and settler/invader bicultural identity based on a colonial treaty that is not universal in Te Ao Māori. It is designed to promote non-Māori, particularly Pākehā settlers/invaders, belonging—permanence.Footnote ⁷⁰

To counter this epistemological and political erasure, a framework of grounded normativity is needed—one that centres reciprocal, place-based relationships and provides a philosophical basis for justice-oriented transformation. This relationality may be replaced with one founded on “grounded normativity,” as articulated by Glen Coulthard and Leanne Simpson. This concept embodies place-based ethics of reciprocity, knowledge production, and nonexploitative relationships with people and nonhuman life forms. Our relationship with the land creates the processes, practices, and knowledge that inform our political systems and allow solidarity.Footnote ⁷¹

The implications of adopting such a framework extend beyond Te Papa’s internal restructuring. They suggest a broader constitutional recalibration that is informed by the values and aspirations of Indigenous peoples themselves. While the current framework of biculturalism at Te Papa promotes Treaty-based partnership and participation, the colonial foundations of its governance are not questioned. Insights about how to address issues of settler/invader colonialism and the re-envisioning of Te Papa can be found in Lorenzo Veracini’s writings.Footnote ⁷² Settler/invader colonialism is essentially flawed and founded on structural inequalities and inequities, namely, white possession and settler/invader–Indigenous relations. Veracini offers commentary on Goodin’s work, On Settling. Footnote ⁷³ Goodin’s final stage of settling, referred to as Phase 5, involves “settling on” a belief, value, project, commitment, or a particular way of being and living. However, without completing Phases 1–4, the Indigenous population lacks authentic political capacity. Veracini notes that, according to Goodin, “settling” continues to be a territorial concept. Although it no longer pertains to “empty lands,” it should not be interpreted metaphorically.Footnote ⁷⁴

Veracini argues that viewing settled populations as the sole creators of narrative identities inherently connects the displacement of Indigenous peoples to the establishment of patriarchal white sovereignty.Footnote ⁷⁵ Currently, no project has sought to unify the values and commitments that are significant to the entirety of Aotearoa New Zealand society. The absence of provisions for political equity and equality for the Indigenous population results in a lack of genuine political capacity for the displaced Indigenous community.Footnote ⁷⁶ In Aotearoa New Zealand, it is essential to understand and apply principles such as mana (power, authority) and mana motuhake (Indigenous sovereignty). According to Veracini, the constitution must articulate shared societal values and commitments; constitutional transformation would therefore help the settler-colonial society initiate the process of “settling for” as it may be viewed as a value-related project.Footnote ⁷⁷ For constitutional transformation to occur, however, governance values must be established through consensus. The potential for this transformation already exists within Indigenous constitutional frameworks, particularly those grounded in tikanga Māori. Their implementation would shift the foundation of public institutions from settler/invader logics towards values of collective sovereignty and care. Jones’s Māori constitutional values, which are rooted in tikanga (customary norms, law, and values), offer guidance for designing a framework of values that can be readily integrated into Aotearoa New Zealand society.Footnote ⁷⁸ Jones’s constitutional values ought to be regarded as the fundamental values that Veracini proposes concerning Phase 5 of On Settling. Footnote ⁷⁹ I contend that the tikanga values of whanaungatanga (relationality, kinship), mana (power, authority), utu (reciprocity), manaakitanga (care), tapu (the sacred), and noa (lack of restriction), identified by Jones as Māori constitutional values, should form the foundation for steering Aotearoa New Zealand towards a collective future.Footnote ⁸⁰ They could be appropriately redefined as “the constitutional values of Aotearoa New Zealand.”Footnote ⁸¹ This reframing acknowledges the deconstruction of the settler/invader colonial project referred to as “New Zealand”—which Te Papa is fundamentally set up to promote.

In its current form, Te Papa not only reflects settler/invader ideologies but also actively promotes them through its bicultural positioning. The implications of this research demand attention to how Treaty principles have been used to obscure rather than uplift Indigenous political realities. My work with Etienne Wain argues that the Treaty principles, which were created to facilitate the improvement of Crown–Māori relations, have been implemented as a settler/invader colonial governance tool.Footnote ⁸² Their bicultural origin and subsequent adoption as the basis for Te Papa to operate as a Crown entity has enabled a settler/invader colonial interpretation and promotion of Te Tiriti and the Taitokerau narrative. As a result, the museum unwittingly promotes colonial tropes that perpetuate the idea that Indigenous people are less than human. This is reflected in the promotion of Indigenous cultural inclusion and celebration of Te Ao Māori within a settler/invader-defined national identity and cultural memory. In this process, Indigenous knowledge is commodified, while the systemic injustices faced by Māori—particularly non-signatory hapū and iwi—are left unaddressed.

These systematic injustices draw attention to how these groups have been treated by the Crown. In the first instance, they were treated as sovereign and asked to sign a treaty. When we asserted our sovereignty and decided not to sign it, the Crown declared that it had a paternalistic right over us—indeed considering us to be children.Footnote ⁸³ I must point out that the settler/invader government “cannot have it both ways.” We are either children or sovereign; based on my research and the findings of the Waitangi Tribunal, the former is a ridiculous notion. This representation of history is nowhere to be found in the building housing Te Papa. In its presentation of Te Tiriti and the bicultural narratives it promotes, it effectively validates settler/invader claims to land, white patriarchal sovereignty, and governance. Accordingly, it actively ignores non-signatory realities and histories, distracting attention from mana motuhake. Therefore, a decolonial and tikanga-based approach that recognises mana motuhake should be implemented for Te Papa to become a guiding beacon towards a collective future for Aotearoa New Zealand. Such a move would allow non-signatory hapū and iwi to be recognised as fully human.