It is an innervating experience to follow in the footsteps of previous NZ Principal columnists Lester Flockton and Martin Thrupp, but I am very grateful to Liz Hawes for the opportunity to try. I have always enjoyed my periodic conversations with groups of principals, prodding and being prodded in equal measure! At the invitation of then editor Geoff Lovegrove, I wrote my first article for the magazine in 1995, shortly after arriving in Palmerston North from England with my then wife and four young children.
We had emigrated looking to escape the Thatcherite era. We hadn’t heard of either ‘Rogernomics’ or Ruth Richardson’s ‘mother of all budgets’. We came on the back of what we soon realised was a mythology of New Zealand as a cradle of social democracy and social security, with long-established equal rights for women and, of course, enjoying ‘the best race relations in the world’. Like all myths – social, economic and educational – they contain more than just a grain of truth, but they reflect only the world views of those who have the power to script the dominant narrative, not those who are ignored, marginalised or excluded from it.
Despite taking the decision to become a citizen in 1999, during the first decade, at least, of my time here, my relationship with te ao Māori was intellectual not embodied, casual not intentional, and episodic not everyday. Two decades on, I know I must learn to be a good Te Tiriti ‘partner’. I also know that my professional and personal tauiwi lives have become richer through that learning, the patient guidance and encouragement that I get from tangata whenua colleagues, the challenge of being expected to by both my employer and students, and, not least, the reality that my own Aotearoa whānau whānui now includes several tamariki Māori. If not for them, then for whom? If not me, then who?
Since the election of the current coalition government, the schooling sector, like the public service at large, has been experiencing major ‘climate disturbance’. Principals in 2025 are faced with the challenge of having to lead communities through extreme educational weather events, all of which may significantly shape the lives and life chances of ākonga, whānau, kaiako and the school’s tānga whenua: learning, curriculum, assessment, pedagogy, professional and achievement standards, initial teacher education, equity funding, even the future of local democratically governed state schooling.
Above all these, though, must surely stand the existential threat to te Tiriti o Waitangi and the ongoing practical realisation of kāwangatanga, tino rangatiratanga and ōritetanga throughout our public institutions. As I write this piece, submissions on the Treaty Principles Bill have closed. In crafting my own submission among more than 300,000, the abiding mental image I had was of driving State Highway 1 to Ōtaki since the 2023 election. Prior to the National–NZ First–Act coalition’s crude policy roll-back on so-called ‘race-based’ funding and services, I had only occasionally seen the United Tribes or Tino Rangatiratanga flags flying, mainly at the Te Whare o Te Paea, Otarere, Tūkorehe, and Wehi Wehi roadside marae. Up to and increasingly since the Hīkoi mō te Tiriti in November, the flags have been flown on gate posts, fence posts, dwellings, hoardings and urupā along the entire route. Thirty years ago, I would have viewed them as the rallying cry for a cause not my own; now I see those same flags as a constant reminder that living te Tiriti is my responsibility and my struggle also. If Māori are to be able actively to live te Tiriti, surely I have actively to live it too.
All primary school principals want children to move on to intermediate or secondary schooling more secure in their identity. Educators and parents alike want children to experience basic self-confidence, self-respect and self-esteem. The German social philosopher Axel Honneth analyses these processes of identity formation as a moral and practical struggle to be recognised by others as an individual who has a positive status. For Honneth, this struggle begins in relations within the family or whānau, develops as children engage with the various societal institutions that demonstrate to them their shared rights with others, and are deepened as they become esteemed for the unique qualities and contributions they as individuals bring to the work of living according to the values, norms and customs of one’s community. Loving family and friendships establish basic self-confidence and a sense of security; early learning services and schooling, for instance, demonstrate to children that they and their whānau enjoy equal respect with other children and families in the community; and participation in learning and other social activities enables individuals to be appreciated for their particular accomplishments. The key point about this version of recognition theory, much like the ako relationship between learners and teachers, is its irreducibly social nature. We can only realise our personal goals if our interaction partners are able to realise theirs. In other words, we have to come to ‘see ourselves in the other’ and make every effort to ensure their inclusion, and that of their norms, customs and values, alongside ours in our institutional and community lives.
In contrast, the current government, for example, has stated that The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples has no legal standing in New Zealand, is unilaterally attempting to redefine the principles of te Tiriti o Waitangi without the participation of Māori, and is systematically removing the policy mandates and Vote Education allocations that are essential to ensure the sustainability of te reo, tikanga and mātauranga Māori in state schooling. Until recently, I was naïve enough to think we in Aotearoa had maybe reached the historical juncture when Ministry and English medium state schools alike were irrevocably committed to the practical educational implications for tangata whenua, tangata tiriti and tauiwi of kāwangatanga, tino rangatiratanga and ōritetanga. I hadn’t considered the possibility we would need collectively to resist a vicious neo-conservative government backlash. If not principals, then who? If not schools, then where? If not now, then when?