We all have a stake in the future of this place

Chinese New Zealander Mengzhu Fu reflects on how to practice solidarity with Māori.

 

For some time now, Hobson’s Pledge has used Asian languages and faces alongside te reo Māori in its “We Belong” campaign. The campaign is a form of “astroturfing,” designed to mimic a grassroots movement, but using generic images and quotes.

It’s infuriating to see Asian experiences of racism appropriated to incite anti-Māori racism.

As a teenager, I remember seeing ACT Party election signs in Chinese around my neighbourhood. More recently, I heard the cringey pronunciation of Mandarin Lunar New Year greetings from the ACT Party and saw them politicking at our New Year celebrations. We regularly see them targeting Asian communities in their campaigning, painting Māori rights as a threat to equality.

Every election, political parties find a scapegoat — whether it be Māori or migrants of colour. These are the politics of distraction and misdirection. The outcome is more racism aimed at Māori and migrant communities, while our most pressing issues — housing, the climate crisis, poverty, gender-based violence, racism, and rising inequality — aren’t addressed.

I’ve recently spent some time living on Indigenous lands occupied by Canada. There, too, governments are ramping up attacks on Indigenous rights. The parallels with Aotearoa are striking.

For example, the Canadian government passed the One Canadian Economy Act (Bill C-5) in June, which aims to reduce interprovincial trade barriers and fast-track projects deemed to be in “the national interest.” In Ontario, Premier Doug Ford’s government introduced Bill 5, the Protecting Ontario by Unleashing Our Economy Act (2025), which permits ‘special economic zones’ and allows certain projects to bypass the consent of Indigenous nations and existing regulations.

Both laws are effectively fast-track mechanisms drafted in the interests of mining, logging, oil and gas industries. They undermine environmental protections and democratic processes to push through extraction and infrastructure projects.

Here in Aotearoa, we’re seeing similar moves to entrench Crown and corporate control of Māori land and water. These attempts are epitomised by the language and values of the Regulatory Standards Bill, which prioritises private property, economic efficiency, and individualism.

Around the world, white supremacist colonial strategies have much in common. The recent global attacks on migrant rights and rising xenophobia in Australia, UK, Canada, and US are examples.

Here, the NZ Immigration Minister has proposed the Immigration (Enhancement Risk Management) Amendment Bill to make deportations easier and expand the powers of immigration officers.

We know from our racist immigration history that it’s unlikely to be white migrants who are racially profiled and targeted if these changes go through.

Resisting the onslaught 

Faced with this kind of onslaught globally, we need all hands on deck. We must refuse the divide-and-rule tactics of politicians and their corporate backers, which distract us from seeing the real issues and the real enemies. Right now, Māori wards are on the line, and to defend them requires everyone to mobilise and vote.

As part of my PhD research, I spoke with Chinese and Indigenous people about how they practise solidarity to resist colonisation in Aotearoa and Canada. This kōrero helped me to find clarity on what to do in this moment.

Vancouver-based poet Rita Wong told me how vital it is to show up for Indigenous land and water defenders using blockades to stop oil and gas pipelines, logging, or mega-dam projects.

Her examples reminded me of the mana whenua-led Protect Ihumātao campaign, which also defended sacred whenua against corporate housing developments, and more recently, Protect Rotokākahi, which has been resisting a sewage pipeline through wāhi tapu.

I came back to Aotearoa in time for last November’s nationwide Hīkoi mō Te Tiriti and was excited to see more Asian and migrant communities aligning with tangata whenua.

It reflected other changes I’ve seen.

Treaty workers have been working hard to bring different communities up to speed with accurate information on Te Tiriti that the education and immigration systems fail to provide.

The group I’m part of, Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga, has been following the lead of tangata whenua. We joined the Toitū Te Tiriti activations around the country, and have made submissions on legislation that threaten Māori rights.

At the pōwhiri for Toitū Te Triti on the North Shore, my friend Kirsty Fong and I met Chinese medicine students who’d been in Aotearoa for less than a year and were already studying rongoā Māori. On the hīkoi across the Auckland Harbour Bridge, we met Indigenous Taiwanese folks. In Heretaunga, we met Asian migrant workers who spotted their language on our Toitū Te Tiriti banner. We met people with Māori-Chinese whakapapa who reminded us that our communities are intertwined. We heard Nadia Abu-Shanab link Māori and Palestinian struggles, and express solidarity on behalf of Palestinian communities.

There are now groups like African Diaspora for Indigenous Rights, which formed out of the hīkoi, and Latin Americans Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga.

This landscape is so different from what I remember 10 years ago. Te Tiriti is no longer seen as something that is only for Māori and Pākehā to think about. Tauiwi of all ethnicities increasingly see that we, too, are implicated in the Treaty relationship.

Over the last few years, I’ve noticed more Chinese Tauiwi engaging culturally with te ao Māori. This includes learning te reo Māori, celebrating Matariki, weaving harakeke, and so on. It’s a positive sign of changing times. However, this cultural learning should not replace the political work of advocating for the restoration of tino rangatiratanga and mana motuhake and the return of whenua.

A young Taiwanese woman in Vancouver reminded me of the danger of cultural “solutions” to political problems. She noted how colonial governments will fund Indigenous arts, for example, but evade calls for Indigenous sovereignty and land back.

For those of us who’ve been pressured to assimilate into Pākehā culture, it’s tempting to think that assimilating into Māori culture is respectful. But this is not what’s being asked of us. It’s good to remember what Tina Ngata’s aunt said: “I don’t need you to be Māori — I’ve got that covered. I need you to be a good Treaty partner.”

Moana Jackson put it another way: “You can live your lives as who you are.” He explained that through Te Tiriti, as in a pōwhiri, we can accept the authority of the hau kāinga (the home people) but not give up our own independent authority. Ultimately, this is a process that welcomes interdependence.

That is what I keep coming back to: our lives and our futures are interdependent.

For Tauiwi who are new to these ideas and wondering what you can do, I would start by connecting with people who are already doing this work. There are many entry points – attend a hīkoi, workshop, submission party, or potluck. Reflect on your strengths, skills, capacity, resources and relationships. What can you offer? The values of humility, reciprocity, collectivity, and accountability are always a good guide to relationships, whether we’re in Māori spaces or doing work with our own communities.

We all have a stake in the future of this place.

Mengzhu Fu is a Han Chinese migrant and member of Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga who recently completed a PhD exploring diasporic Chinese solidarity with Indigenous movements in Aotearoa and so-called Canada.

E-Tangata, 2025