A koro’s legacy

A review of Tā Hirini Moko Mead’s foundational new book Mātauranga Māori.

 

It’s a cold winter night. I’m tucked up on the couch in front of the fire, ignoring a long list of deadlines, and instead reading Tā Hirini Moko Mead’s Mātauranga Māori and writing this review. Why? Partly because I feel the quiet tug of whakapapa.

But also because, in the current climate, returning to and re-engaging with mātauranga Māori feels urgent — a way to anchor myself in something enduring. It’s strange that such a simple act has also come to feel like resistance.

Tā Hirini opens the book with a dedication: “To the mokopuna generation of the nation.” He describes his work as part of a legacy handed down from generations before. “As your Koro,” he writes, “my task was to explain the legacy so that each of you can hold it in your hands, absorb it, share it, add to it what you already know and finally cherish it.”

At 98, Tā Hirini is not only the koro of the nation, he is my actual Koro, too. My grandfather’s older brother. Same mother, different paths.

While I didn’t grow up particularly close to him, he was one of those kaumātua who orbited my life from a distance, our paths crossing at tangihanga and significant whānau events. I’ve been fortunate to get to know him better in more recent years as our professional lives have intersected.

So yes, whakapapa plays a part in why I’m writing this review, and as a lawyer, it’s a force of habit to disclose anything that might be perceived as a “conflict of interest.” But it’s also more than that. The whakapapa pull exists on multiple levels. Seeking a deeper understanding of mātauranga Māori is also about seeking a better understanding of myself, of our culture, and of Aotearoa as a nation — past, present, and future.

We are living in a moment where mātauranga Māori is both being reclaimed and resisted. On one hand, there’s a quiet groundswell of reconnection and revitalisation in kura, in whānau, in our professions.

On the other hand, there’s a wave of political backlash. Scientists claiming mātauranga Māori “isn’t science.” Government policies walking back Māori visibility and voice. In the legal world, where I spend much of my time, there’s growing recognition that tikanga Māori — which is grounded in mātauranga Māori — has a place in our legal system. But there’s also open hostility. Much of that resistance is driven by fear. Fear of the unknown, of change, of having to share space.

Which is why this book matters. Now more than ever.

With characteristic clarity, Tā Hirini takes us on a journey through what he describes as “a fairly complicated knowledge system and its many whare (houses) that are its branches of knowledge.”

He doesn’t romanticise mātauranga Māori or its history. He acknowledges that, for a long time, Māori (apart from a few pockets) were disconnected from it — and that disconnection wasn’t by choice. Colonisation casts a long shadow, and although we’re seeing a re-emergence of the Māori knowledge system, the impacts of that dislocation are still felt today.

Reading this book, I could almost hear his voice. Calm, measured, never showy, characteristically clear. The tone is conversational, like a wānanga in written form. You get a sense of sitting with him, listening to the unfurling of thoughts and the inner workings of his mind.

He’s not trying to write an encyclopaedia, cover everything, or settle every debate. But he does offer almost a century’s worth of knowledge and insight into a topic he has thought deeply about for many years. A blueprint. A framework. A way of seeing and understanding.

Writing about an entire knowledge system is no small task. But somehow, Tā Hirini pulls it off. The book is structured around different whare, each housing a distinct part of the knowledge system. Tā Hirini not only explores mātauranga Māori as a concept in itself (including its conception and status), but he also opens the doors to houses of knowledge on astronomy, spirituality, birth, the arts, navigation and the ocean, end of life, and recovering lost knowledge.

Mātauranga Māori, as Tā Hirini presents it, is layered like whakapapa. Each chapter adds another stratum, building on what came before. He gently introduces each topic, then connects it to practice and context. He draws on traditional kōrero (narratives and stories) as well as his own experiences.

He grapples with contemporary issues, like the limitations of the intellectual property system, and engages in thoughtful debate and dialogue along the way. The result is a structure you can walk through: not perfectly symmetrical, not exhaustive, but alive with purpose, meaning, and challenge.

The breadth and depth of what’s covered is impressive. Of course, no book can capture everything. Tā Hirini’s humility as a scholar also comes through, as he names the gaps in his own knowledge without hesitation.

The only point that gave my overly critical lawyer self a squinty-eyed pause was a single line — Tā Hirini’s comment that parliament has changed from “being a weapon of cultural and societal destruction to one that is trying to honour Te Tiriti o Waitangi and to create opportunities for Māori to participate more often in the activities of our country.”

I think that part of the book was written before the antics of the current government.  But I also understand it. Tā Hirini has seen and lived through long arcs of change that many of us can only imagine. I think there’s an underlying optimism that we have moved on as a society, and the current anti-Māori politics and rhetoric are a blip in time.

This book is for everyone. It offers a generous, wise and deeply grounded account of a knowledge system that continues to shape our present and future. It opens the door and invites us in. And for those of us who are finding our way back to mātauranga Māori, who live in the space between what was lost and what is slowly being reclaimed, that invitation is everything.

So yes, I should probably return to those deadlines. But I’m glad I paused the busyness of life to have a wānanga with this book.

This isn’t just a book to be read once. It’s one to return to, sit with, and grow alongside. In a time when so much is being taken away, this book gives something back. Something precious, a taonga, that reminds us that we are part of a much longer story, and that we carry with us a legacy that is still being written.

 

Natalie Coates (Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Tūhourangi, Tūhoe, Te Whānau a Apanui) is barrister at Thorndon Chambers. She specialises in public and administrative law, Te Tiriti o Waitangi, Māori legal issues, human rights, Māori land matters, Treaty of Waitangi settlement negotiations, trust and governance matters. Natalie is also currently a pouako at Te Whare Wānanga o Awanuiārangi where (alongside Tai Ahu) she teaches and co-ordinates the Postgraduate Diploma in Tikanga and the Law.

Natalie holds first class honours degrees in Law and Arts (Māori Studies) from the University of Otago and an LLM from Harvard University. She was a Fulbright scholar and was also the recipient of the NZ Law Foundation Ethel Benjamin Scholarship and the Ngārimu VC and 28th (Māori) Battalion Memorial Scholarship Masters Award. She currently sits in various representative roles including on the NZ Council of Legal Education, the NZ Council of Law Reporting and is the current Co-President of Te Hunga Roia Māori, the Māori Law Society.

E-Tangata, 2025