Kiingi Tuheitia Pootatau Te Wherowhero VII 1955-2024 (Photo: Kiingitanga)

The Kiingitanga is our most radically inclusive political institution, writes Trent Hohaia.

In 1853, Mātene Te Whiwhi and his cousin Tāmihana Te Rauparaha, along with other rangatira, set off on a journey that would one day be recognised by many as the beginning of the Kiingitanga — the most enduring political institution and movement in the history of Aotearoa New Zealand.

While many New Zealanders may now be familiar with the “Māori king”, fewer are aware of the movement that supports them, the Kiingitanga. Others know of the Kiingitanga as a “Tainui thing”, and many, perhaps the majority, may not have heard any mention of the Kiingitanga. This is true of both Māori and Pākehā.

The Kiingitanga is one of our nation’s oldest and most radically inclusive political institutions.

The origins of the Kiingitanga (the King Movement) and the continued evolution of the movement is something that Aotearoa can not only learn much from but should also be immeasurably proud of. The decision-making processes, the founding principles, and the centring of the movement around its people are politically significant and unique, unlike anything else in Aotearoa to this day.

Following Matene Te Whiwhi and his haerenga in 1853, where many rangatira were approached with the idea of becoming the king (all refused), several other crucial conversations took place across Te-Ika-a-Māui leading up to the formation of the Kiingitanga in 1855.

Over the two years before this, messages and invitations at the request of Ariki Iwikau Te Heuheu of Ngāti Tūwharetoa were being sent on these and other journeys to invite the rangatira from almost all tribes to Pukawa in November 1856, to attend a hui which would come to be named “Hinana ki uta, Hinana ki tai.” (Search the land, Search the sea.)

Conservative estimates say 1600 people attended the hui at Pukawa, others say 3000, while others still say that as many as 10,000 may have been in attendance. The purpose of the hui was to elect a king — and that king would be elected for the express purposes of:

“Hei pupuru i te whenua, hei puru i te toto, hei pupuru i te mana Māori motuhake.”

“To hold on to our land, to stop the loss of life of our people, to keep our mana Māori motuhake.”

The idea of taking on the mantle of king was viewed by Māori as taking responsibility for the people, not in a theoretical sense, but in terms of feeding, housing, hosting and caring for them.

The goal was not ascension to power or acquisition of prestige. The rangatira of the time stood to gain nothing in becoming the king. Indeed, they were already “kings” of their own nations, and there was no annual salary or office perks that accompanied the role.

The kingship was viewed by almost all rangatira as a great responsibility and burden. All the rangatira who were asked to be the king refused it — even the eventual first king, Pootatau te Wherowhero. Different rangatira refused for different reasons, but all who did so understood the burden of taking responsibility for the Māori world and the people within it.

Pootatau was the unanimous choice of those at the hui, but he didn’t accept the kingship until late in 1857 and was crowned at Ngāruawāhia in June 1858. He died two years later and was succeeded by his son Tawhiao.

Much has been written about why the elderly Pootatau was chosen by the rangatira of the motu. Chief among the reasons was his ability to connect genealogically to almost all the migratory waka. Another reason was his ability to provide for people. Waikato is an incredibly fertile part of Aotearoa and has sustained hundreds of acres of gardens. The messaging from the rangatira was clear: the king needed to be someone who the tribes could connect to, and he had to be able to feed the people.

It seems a novel idea in contemporary society for a leadership position to be viewed as a burden when most prominent positions, whether in business, politics or celebrity, are often viewed through the innumerable benefits the person occupying that position receives. The Kiingitanga, and the role of kiingi or kuini, is not absent of any comforts, however, they are not afforded solely because of status but as a result of the faith and commitment of the people towards their Ariki.

Pukawa is noteworthy secondly for the process used to decide on a king. While Te Ariki Iwikau te Heuheu had thought of Pootatau as the right person for the kingship for a long while, it was not a fait accompli, and he had to be persuaded to accept the position.

There were several unique processes the rangatira of the time used to elect their king. The first of these was to abstain from eating food. Accounts describe the rangatira foregoing food until a decision was made, leaving the kōrero only to drink water and to relieve themselves.

You might not associate fasting with sound decision-making, but it’s clear that the rangatira understood the severity of the problems they were facing from colonisation, and wanted to ensure that whatever decision was made at this hui was of the highest quality.

The idea of any nation’s leaders going without food and material comforts, and refusing to leave until there was a satisfactory consensus on the best decision, is a foreign one to Aotearoa in 2024, but there is something innately appealing about the dedication and sacrifice of a leader.

From these origins, we’ve received the longest-lived political movement in Aotearoa, and one of the oldest kaupapa of our nation.

An important facet of the Kiingitanga is that it is based on kotahitanga, or unity. Kotahitanga is a complex concept. It is unity without the requirement of uniformity or sameness. It allows each person and group to retain their mana, yet be connected in purpose towards the same ideals or kaupapa. Kotahitanga, you could say, fills the role in the Māori world that the concept of “citizenship” plays in the Pākehā world.

Not only are the origins of the Kiingitanga worth considering, but so too is the modern expression.

As we’ve seen during the tangi of Kiingi Tuheitia Pootatau Te Wherowhero VII, there have been discussions over the many contributions of his life, the difficulty of the kingship, and the significance of the Kiingitanga to all of Māoridom and Aotearoa. A question that accompanied these reflections is the question of succession. Che Wilson of Ngāti Rangi, who chairs the king’s advisory council Tekau-maa-rua, the representatives of iwi outside of the Tainui confederation, led the wānanga to discuss who will take on the burden and the mantle of the Arikinui.

Iwi from the Tainui confederation are not allowed to participate in that discussion. Waikato, Maniapoto, Raukawa, and Pare Hauraki do not contribute to the decision of who will become the next monarch of the Kiingitanga. While Tainui waka has taken responsibility for upholding the Kiingitanga since inception, they maintain that they are merely the guardians, not owners, proclaiming instead that the Kiingitanga belongs to the motu, to all Māori, and to Aotearoa.

Saying nothing of the responsibility of hosting that is true for all iwi who have manuwhiri visit their home, Tainui waka also commits to the protection and service of their king or queen. The idea of choosing not to involve yourselves in deciding who that person will be, who you’ve already committed to serving again, serves to underline the radical foundation of service and sacrifice that defines the Kiingitanga.

This is perhaps the most radical, egalitarian and profound element of the Kiingitanga. In no other political institution in Aotearoa are political leaders themselves removed from the decision of who will lead their institution. In our general elections, we don’t vote for who will be our prime minister. We instead vote for the party whose leader will become the prime minister.

Indeed, even the decision-making processes themselves are unique. The ascension of the new king or queen is made by complete consensus or not at all. There is robust debate and discussion, but what is clear is that regardless of where an individual sits on the question, by the end of the debate they agree to leave in complete support of the new Ariki.

This idea is not new or particularly profound, but there is no other democratic system in the world that genuinely operates according to consensus. Yet the Kiingitanga does.

The term bipartisan is often used in the Beehive, yet rarely is it practically implemented. Within the Kiingitanga, it is the foundation of the decisions made.

The Kiingitanga is politically exceptional in Aotearoa. Its kaupapa is beholden to the people, upheld by the people, and determined by the people.

A rangatira is defined by the ability to bring people together — an Ariki even more so. If you cannot, then you are not.

In this way, the Kiingitanga is defined best by the fact that whānau, hapū and iwi, prime ministers, and royal households from around the world have seen fit to maintain ties to the Kiingitanga. There is no obligation to uphold this kaupapa beyond the one people choose for themselves.

After less than a year of the current coalition government, which has demonstrated a blatant disregard for te ao Māori and the democratic process, and a negligent disregard for the most vulnerable in our nation, the Kiingitanga continues to be defined by its commitment to the people — all people.

The Kiingitanga is an example of what’s possible when the way we frame our politics is based on ideals of kotahitanga, mana, tapu, mauri and manaakitanga.

It is exceptional. And it is the definitive Aotearoa political identity — perhaps our most sophisticated expression of a national political identity outside of He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Trent Hohaia (Ngāti Maniapoto, Te Atiawa, Waikato, Taranaki tūturu) is a consultant for Tūmanako. Within his wider scope of work he contributes to nation-building kaupapa within te ao Māori, mō te ao katoa. Trent holds a BSocSci from Waikato University, is an Indigenous learning journey facilitator, and founder of Tautitotito.

E-Tangata, 2024