Words: David Fisher
Visuals: Mike Scott
Editor: Andrew Laxon
Interactive: Chris Knox
Design: Paul Slater


Everything about Kirsti Luke challenges.

That is as it should be for someone whose feet are so firmly planted in the lands of Ngāi Tūhoe, because that has long been the way for Ngā Tamariki o te Kohu, these children of the mist.

For hundreds of years, the challenge has come from Te Urewera. It has always been confronting, as Luke is confronting.

But you know what? That’s not her problem. It’s yours. She knows who she is, and she is strong in that.

Luke spoke to the New Zealand Herald as part of our journey across the nation for The Road Ahead.

Our time with Luke (Ngāti Awa/Ngā Puhi) could be taken as an interview on te ao Māori, but it’s not. Rather, it was the voice of te ao Tūhoe we heard.

Through that voice, we heard echoes of other communities who share this land, whose worldview is not easily understood, whose voices are not easily heard above the clamour of an easily accepted national narrative.

We meet at Taneatua, a six-minute drive from Whakatāne, at the northern reaches of Tūhoe’s territory. To the south, this territory is defined by Wairoa, to the east it is between Whakatāne and Ōpōtiki and to the west, Kaingaroa Forest.

How do you tell the story of Tūhoe? No media can, really. Not newspaper articles, books or movies. All have offered snapshots in time, some with deeper dimensions and resonance than others.

Luke, a lawyer, helped tell Tūhoe’s story over five years in the Waitangi Tribunal. Even then, what is five years in an epic that stretches over centuries? How does even that lens reconcile the extraordinary, jarring shift of a people whose existence was battered, diminished, by the arrival of Western civilisation on these shores?

There are signal details that flare bright - Tūhoe never signed the Treaty of Waitangi; Tūhoe contracted away from encroaching European colonisation; Tūhoe were promised much and cheated constantly; Tūhoe were subjected to a scorched earth incursion that sought to crush a people awake to the threat of the outside world.

Top: Negotiating the Treaty of Waitangi between the Māori tribe and British government, February 1840. Above: Protest signs at Tūhoe. Photos / Getty Images; Supplied

Top: Negotiating the Treaty of Waitangi between the Māori tribe and British government, February 1840. Above: Protest signs at Tūhoe. Photos / Getty Images; Supplied

As recently as 2007, the state descended on Tūhoe lands with roadblocks and armed police in a so-called anti-terrorism raid, of which the key and most intrusive aspects were later found to be unlawful.

Then, in 2013, the Crown settled with Tūhoe by offering an apology, co-governance of Te Urewera, and a redress package valued at $170m.

A police roadblock in action in the Ruatoki Valley, near Whakatāne, during recent anti-terrorism raids. Photo / Alan Gibson

A police roadblock in action in the Ruatoki Valley, near Whakatāne, during recent anti-terrorism raids. Photo / Alan Gibson

Talk of “post-settlement” and Luke acknowledges how some saw this as the “finishing line”.

“Here's the war, here's the battle. The hard part's been done. Over to you how people would spend the money,” is how she phrases that view.

“That hasn't been the case here in Tūhoe. Post-settlement is a very, very difficult and complex environment. The hundreds of people that have talked about the value of a common enemy, that's a very true saying.

“So once the common enemy walked out of the room - the common enemy being the Crown - how cultures deal with peacetime is a lot more fierce.

“One of the things that our chair [Tamati Kruger] made very clear was that 200 years of colonisation - 200 years of harm, carnage, chaos, disappointment, pain, abject poverty - really doesn't disappear with an event, really does not disappear with a chequebook and a balance sheet.

Tamati Kruger was chief negotiator of Tūhoe's ground-breaking Treaty settlement with the Crown. Photo / Mike Scott

Tamati Kruger was chief negotiator of Tūhoe's ground-breaking Treaty settlement with the Crown. Photo / Mike Scott

“It really doesn't disappear with a momentous date of settlement signing and some signatures on a blank page. It really, really doesn't.

“What is needed is a million of those moments - uplifting moments that can set your sights forward.”

For decades now, says Luke, Tūhoe has cast about in search of a structure that fits with where the iwi sees itself and how its relationship with the Crown functions .

They set out as “adventurers” among other iwi - “you cast around and you look to see ‘what are awesome examples of Crown-iwi relationships. We're going to steal some’.”

“It could have been that we didn't make good adventurers. I don't know, but we did not find any.”

So they turned to those who had led the Crown in settlement discussions, to see if examples existed on the other side of the coin.

“And then when they said they knew of none … they could not offer any stunning example, we were shocked and horrified.

“It changed for us. It changed the focus. It went from looking for pre-worked examples to discovering that you had to create them yourself.

“That's not an easy shift to immediately make because it involves courage and confidence and a little bit of arrogance, right?”

The needs of Tūhoe are simple and complex. At its simplest, says Luke, is the desire to feel safe and secure. “I think wanting to have a sense of influence over what their families are doing and can do; to … live in communities that are connected and care about each other.”

It’s when you try to chart a course to that place of security that the pathway turns into a maze. There’s demons of the past and the present, such as meth, and the need for educational opportunities.

“It's quite hard to distinguish between immediate needs and future needs because … that's very difficult to know where one begins and the other ends.”

Caption in here. Photo / Mike Scott

Caption in here. Photo / Mike Scott

The burden of meeting those immediate needs falls on community and hapū with support from the iwi body while Tūhoe as an iwi needs its eye fixed on the future, she says.

“So we spend quite a bit of time imagining what all of the potential scenarios that could look like and thinking about the disciplines and the values that people need to be living by, in order to survive that.”

That’s not straight-forward, she says,

“It continues to take a bit of a leap to do that. That point was helpful because we could have spent a decade continuing to look for something that we were never going to find. Rather, we have spent the last 10 years giving things a go.

“The short summary of all of that is we have not been able to find any real substance or relevance.

“By that, I mean, Wellington is too different to the Tūhoe communities, I would say to this particular living system, ecosystem, lifestyle.”

It means Tūhoe and government speak past each other. “I'm confident that we have held up our end of the bargain in all attempts. I'm not saying that Wellington has been unkind or disingenuous.

“Both of us have underestimated each other's difference. Only one of us cares about that.

“I guess that many have expected Tūhoe people and the Crown to forge a pathway seemingly unencumbered by prior relationships or prior baggage or prior hangups.”

Luke draws a breath and lets it out with more than a hint of exasperation. She is “struggling to find diplomatic words”. “Wellington means well but is superficial in its dealings.

“Structurally the Crown's three-year timeframe is as a real inhibitor. A three-year timeframe for us is a fad.

“There is nothing substantive or meaningful that is helpful to us to achieve the real transformation or the real-life change in standards and optimism and contribution and responsibility. Nothing.”

Military Base Waikaremoana. Photo / Supplied

Military Base Waikaremoana. Photo / Supplied

What does “recovery from colonisation” look like, she asks. You won’t find many answers in books because they are, largely, yet to be written “mainly because we're all still in it”.

“The idea that economic development, which is where all iwi were pushed to in a post-settlement environment, that that was the blazing hallelujah thing, that somehow money in the bank would speed up an urge on recovery, well, that hasn't been proven.”

If you want an impression of the damage done, Luke talks of being “surprised” and admiring of “the drive behind Pākehā New Zealand’s interest in colonisation”.

“I often see more of a genuine intent to understand the depth of it more so amongst Pākehā New Zealand than amongst Māori.

“What I think that is about is that academics have suffocated the life and emotion out of colonisation. By doing that, they've removed it away from me, the normal whānau sitting around the kitchen table, and they've taken the debate and moved it to another place.”

It leaves Māori immersed in the constancy of the impact of colonisation while those without that boot on their head have the freedom to sit back and objectively consider it.

“That is obstructing our ability to put it on the table, cut it up with your knife and fork, eat it up and shift it.”

Tūhoe’s keen awareness of its own identity is not isolating. “I am a part of New Zealand and I am a part of this planet and of this globe and my ability to be responsible and generous and caring - intuitively, instinctively - makes me connected to the rest of this country.

That sense of self is critical, and is a powerful part of the educational ambitions of Tūhoe. “The Tūhoe purpose for learning and education relates to cultural permanency. Cultural permanency is underpinned by humans that can get to a place of comfort and security.”

“We differ with the New Zealand government's view on the value of education. We've been told on more than one occasion that the purpose of education is to ensure that all members of society can fulfill the economic function and a thriving economy is the way in which New Zealand prospers.

“The Tūhoe learning and educated experience must be connected to life in Te Urewera. Without it, there is no purpose to learning.”

There’s a thread to follow there which ultimately will always lead back to being Tūhoe, and finding security in that identity and holding it at the core of your being.

Can Tūhoe manage those big-ticket education, health and welfare services? “We are,” she says. “There is no government footprint here.”

Government is a “cheque book and a lawmaker”, says Luke. “They don’t do ‘care’. We are dealing with, currently, a backlog of welfare-health issues. The answer to [those issues] is to return leadership responsibility and influence, not peddle more drugs and more social workers.

“For us, we don't understand that strategy. You are using a strategy that has never been proven to work. You can't find enough social workers and you can't fund enough of them, but that's what you're peddling.”

Covid-19 has sharpened the contrast between worlds. Tūhoe, like everyone, has suffered the impact.

“I think we have been slightly gleeful at the exposure of globalisation and the erosion of the value of local relationships and the ability of local communities to care for themselves. We could suddenly have a reliable examination of the way that we are living our lives.

“And we could see all of the holes, all of the contradictions, as tangata whenua, as people with some kind of superior knowledge of the land but who were hitting the supermarkets just as much as anybody else.”

And now it’s time to vote, Luke’s reflection over the past three years shows again that challenge - that refusal to compromise.

“I think that to serve your community and serve your society is something precious.” She will look at the ballot and ask: “Are they arrogant?”

“That's how I choose. Arrogant politicians are shortsighted and narrow and can't listen - and especially can't listen to people who live in places of which only 10 per cent of our communities [have] tar seal.

She bridles against MMP and the deals it forces, and the compromises made. When votes are sought, Luke sees it as an invitation to be “tactical”.

“I don't like tactics. I want to size up a party and feel strongly that they believe in what they stand for. I don't believe anybody should compromise on their values. They should just stick at it longer, be smart about it and fight.

“If you are to compromise on your values, you should get out of the partnership. There is nothing coherent or long-lasting that can be achieved when a compromise of values is at hand.”