While the world recovers from New Year’s sluggishness, Māoridom hits the ground running – protesting, performing, protecting, and proving that mana Māori is as relentless as ever. For Māori, February isn’t just the second month of the year; it’s a battleground, a stage, and a rallying cry all at once. From the fierce competition of Te Matatini week, to the Treaty Principles Bill submission hearings, and the crowds at Waitangi, February was a collision of politics, culture, and activism.
Te Matatini: The Pinnacle of Passion and Protest
Te Matatini o Te Kāhui Maunga 2025 was kapa haka at its most unapologetic. Every bracket was a statement that this wasn’t just a competition, but a showcase of endurance, defiance, and a reminder that kapa haka remains one of the sharpest tools of Māori resistance.
That resistance was reflected not just in the performances, but in the sheer scale of the event. A new pool, Te Awa, was introduced to accommodate the surge of new rōpū emerging from last year’s regional competitions, jumping from 46 to 55 teams – a testament to kapa haka’s unstoppable growth. More teams meant fiercer competition, tighter margins, and higher stakes; every second on stage had to count. From aprons and top hats, to poppies and political banners, the stage is both a soapbox and a battlefield. Among those taking that stage were former members of Te Rōpū Māori Students Association, now performing with some of the most elite rōpū in the country.
With more voices on the field, the statements became even louder. Mōtai Tangata Rau (Waikato) and Ngā Purapura o Te Tai Hauāuru (Taranaki) turned history into protest, taking the stage in colonial-era attire. It was a stark visual reminder of the narratives kapa haka continues to challenge. Angitū (Tāmaki Makaurau) pushed the boundaries of tradition and technology, delivering a haka penned by artificial intelligence, warning of its dangers while proving that nothing can replace the power of human expression. But some statements cut deeper than spectacle alone. Frustration with the political climate bled into performances, with rōpū using the stage to call out those they believe have failed Māori – none more directly than Winston Peters. Te Pikikōtuku o Ngāti Rongomai (Te Arawa) kept it all too human, delivering a blistering haka titled ‘Tangiweto’ (crybaby), taking aim at his anti-Māori rhetoric and selective whakapapa. Quoting Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke, they made their stance clear: moumou tō toto Māori – a waste of Māori blood.
But kapa haka is not just a stage for protest; it is also a vessel for remembrance, honour, and aroha. Emotion ran deep as waiata mourning the recent losses of Dame Tariana Turia and Ricky Mitai echoed through the stadium. Many rōpū (groups) paid tribute to the late Kīngi Tūheitia, while the new Māori Queen, Te Arikinui Ngā Wai Hono i te Pō, was embraced by the masses. Her ascension was acknowledged in a wave of powerful performances that reaffirmed whakapapa, tradition, and the enduring strength of Te Ao Māori.
Despite this being the first Te Matatini without renowned champions Te Mātārae i Ōrehu, Te Arawa’s dominance remains unshaken, with four of their five rōpū securing a place in Te Matangirua, the finals stage. They were joined by several renowned rōpū, including 2023 winners, Te Kapa Haka o Te Whānau-a-Apanui.
Te Kuru Marutea (Te Tauihu), stole the hearts of the people, and won the new People’s Choice Award with a waiata tira that went viral on Tiktok and Youtube, amassing over 4,000 votes and securing its place in everyone’s Māori hour. Meanwhile, Te Kapa Haka o Ngāti Whakaue (Te Arawa) took first place, their winning bracket a tribute to Sir Bom Gillies (‘Koro Bom’), the last surviving member of the 28th Māori Battalion, who passed away in November at age 99. Known for his humility, he accepted a knighthood in 2021 – not for himself, but as a tribute to all his Māori Battalion comrades. Their winning bracket was dedicated to him, a heartfelt tribute woven through waiata, haka, and sweet old-school charm.
Triumphant moments such as these highlight the very soul of Te Matatini. But beyond the trophies and titles, the festival itself continues to evolve – not just as a competition, but as a platform that continues to push the boundaries of kapa haka. With more teams, more voices, and an ever-expanding stage, the question now is not just who will take the podium in 2027, but how the competition itself will evolve to meet the unstoppable momentum of te ao haka.
Waitangi Day: See More, Say Less
Marked by tension, protest, and the usual political theatrics, Waitangi Day 2025 did not disappoint. ACT leader David Seymour – never one to miss an opportunity to test his luck in Māori spaces – found himself abruptly muted when the mic was taken from him mid-speech. Twice. Whether an act of protest or divine intervention, the moment summed up a general sentiment: some kōrero is better left unsaid.
Meanwhile, a group of wāhine Māori from Te Tai Tokerau delivered their own message loud and clear – all without saying a word. Draped in red blankets adorned with Tino Rangatiratanga and He Whakaputanga flags, they turned their backs on Tama Potaka and the government delegation, a silent but cutting rejection of the proposed Treaty Principles Bill. With concerns that the bill seeks to box Te Tiriti into a narrow, Pākehā-defined framework, the response was unmistakable: Māori sovereignty isn’t up for rewording. Māori were not in the mood for empty rhetoric. From the silent resistance of the wāhine to the literal silencing of Seymour, the day carried a clear message: Māori are watching, Māori are speaking, and, most importantly, Māori will decide when to listen.
Treaty Principles Bill: The Fine Print of Power
The Treaty has never been the problem, the Crown’s failure to uphold it has. For decades, Māori have fought not against Te Tiriti, but for it, demanding the government honour its promises on land, healthcare, justice, and equality. Instead, the state has dragged its feet, ignored its obligations, and twisted the Treaty’s intent to suit its agenda. Now, the same government that has failed to deliver wants to rewrite the rules.
The Treaty Principles Bill, spearheaded by ACT leader David Seymour, is a blatant attempt to strip Te Tiriti from the law, severing Māori rights from the foundations of the nation. But Māori aren’t fooled – this isn’t a reset, it’s an escape plan. The Crown doesn’t get to break the deal and then rewrite the contract.
Thousands of submissions have flooded the hearings, the overwhelming majority in opposition. Māori leaders, legal experts, and everyday whānau have lined up to condemn the bill, dismantling its so-called justification piece by piece. Academics have called it legally incoherent, iwi representatives have called it a betrayal, and submitters have made it personal – because it is. Outside the hearing sessions, protests have amplified the rejection, while internationally, Indigenous and human rights groups have sounded the alarm. The bill has made headlines beyond Aotearoa, drawing comparisons to other settler-state tactics of erasure and control. For a government claiming to champion democracy, ignoring a tidal wave of opposition isn’t a good look.
But while the opposition has been fierce, the bill has also drawn its share of predictable supporters. Former National MP and Thames-Coromandel mayor Sandra Goudie, best remembered for refusing the Pfizer vaccine in 2021, appeared via Zoom to back the bill, offering a submission that was as baffling as it was revealing. Speaking with only her forehead in frame, she claimed there was unprecedented favouritism toward Māori, took aim at Māori businesses for only paying 17.5 percent tax, misrepresenting the tax laws that govern Māori authorities, and questioned why non-Māori didn’t have their own Waitangi Tribunal. By the end of her ten-minute submission, the response from the committee made it clear that little of what she had said carried weight.
As hearings continue, the divide couldn’t be clearer. On one side, Māori, legal scholars, and seasoned politicians are calling out the bill for what it is, an attempt to invalidate Te Tiriti’s power. On the other, the government’s case is being propped up by misinformation, revisionist history, as well as sheer incoherence and ignorance. If this is the intellectual firepower behind the bill, it’s no wonder the opposition is growing stronger by the day.
Taranaki Maunga: Mountains Don’t Move, Neither Do We
In a historic shift, the Treaty of Waitangi settlement for Taranaki Maunga passed its second and third reading in Parliament. As part of the settlement, the name ‘Mt Egmont’ (named after a European settler) will be officially retired, and Egmont National Park will be renamed Te Papa-Kura-o-Taranaki, meaning ‘the highly regarded and treasured lands of Taranaki’. Furthermore, the mountain’s highest peak will be recognised as Taranaki Maunga.
Under the new framework, the national park and everything within it will be granted legal personhood, effectively owning itself. Its peaks will collectively be known as Te Kāhui Tupua. Yet, as with all so-called settlements, the struggle didn’t end there. The finer details of the agreement – who speaks for Taranaki, how governance is structured, and whether the Crown’s grip on decision-making truly loosens – are still playing out. Tensions flared in February as iwi representatives and the Crown negotiated the final stages of the settlement, with concerns mounting over whether the new governance model will genuinely uphold tino rangatiratanga or become another bureaucratic bottleneck. Meanwhile, environmental and development pressures continue to test the boundaries of personhood, raising the question: does legal status protect Taranaki, or just reframe the fight? One thing remains clear: mountains don’t move, and neither do the people who stand for them.
Business As Usual, Resistance As Always
February might be the shortest month, but in Aotearoa it stretches long in memory, leaving a trail of haka, headlines, and history in the making. While politicians scramble to redefine history, Māori are busy proving that the real authority lies with the people, the whenua, and the voices that refuse to be silenced. From the stages of Te Matatini to the submission floors of Parliament, the message is the same: Māori will not be sidelined, rewritten, or erased. February isn’t just a month – it is a movement, and it doesn’t end when the calendar flips.