Summer reissue: Increasing numbers of Māori are affiliating with tribal groups of under 1,000 members. What does it mean for Māoridom?

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The latest release of iwi affiliation data, gathered during last year’s census, shows an increasing number of people are affiliating with “smaller iwi”, or groups with under 1,000 members. Released by Te Kāhui Raraunga, a Māori-led independent charitable trust focused on data, the stats show a 200% increase in the number of people affiliating with smaller iwi over the last decade.

Iwi v hapū

While the idea of iwi is hardly a new concept, there are some who believe the term only became popular with the arrival of colonisation, or the emergence of treaty claims. Prior to this, the emphasis was on hapū and whānau. In times of war, hapū would join together to fight, usually alongside other hapū they were closely related to. This is where the idea of iwi comes from.

The argument is that it was easier for the government to deal with large groupings of tribes and subtribes rather than hapū or whānau when it came to the Native Land Courts and such. An example of this in the treaty claims sense is the Central North Island Forests Land Collective Settlement Act 2008, which addressed concerns raised in more than 120 claims. 

“Treaty settlements for iwi often elevate our understanding of identity and reclamation. However, we need to be mindful of the branding we give ourselves, especially for those who grow up away from home,” says Kirikowhai Mikaere, pou ārahi for Te Kāhui Raraunga. “For example, when outside our region, we may identify collectively as Te Arawa, but within, we use specific iwi names. Over time, data shows a significant increase in individual iwi identification, reflecting deeper connections rather than population growth, Mikaere says.

Reclaiming the mana

When I was a child, I didn’t really know what my iwi or hapū was. I did know my maunga, awa, marae and whānau, but hapū and iwi weren’t really part of my vocabulary yet. By the time I reached my teens, my dad had begun researching our whakapapa. He soon found out that our hapū was originally called Ngāti Wairupe, after an ancestress called Wairupe.

The story goes that Wairupe renamed her hapū Ngāti Kuri after her husband Kuri, who died in battle. My great-great-great grandfather, Ruia Hapakuku, is quoted in Māori Land Court minutes stating that Ngāti Wairupe lived alongside Te Rarawa, the main iwi from our rohe. At times, they fought against them, while at other times, they stood together. While we can also claim direct descent from famous Te Rarawa ancestors such as Tarutaru, Dad and some of our whanaunga thought it was best Ngāti Wairupe rāua ko Ngāti Kuri reclaimed its own mana as a hapū.

The process of reclaiming our identity and mana was quite a rollercoaster ride for my dad and those who embarked on the journey with him. It involved hundreds of hours of research, hui hopping, wānanga, countless weekends reading through Māori Land Court minute books and old manuscripts, and knocking on doors up and down the country looking for answers. We met with whānau throughout Aotearoa, discussing the kaupapa. Hapū registrations were obtained, Waitangi Tribunal claims lodged, an incorporated society formed. There were negotiations with iwi executives, hui with government ministers, and many fiery discussions on the marae and beyond. 

After years of sacrifice and hard work from those involved, the mana of Ngāti Wairupe rāua ko Ngāti Kuri was finally recognised in legislation as part of Te Hiku Claims Settlement Bill. We had successfully reclaimed the mana of our hapū. Nowadays, there are hundreds of people who claim Ngāti Wairupe rāua ko Ngāti Kurī as their hapū.

Connecting the branches on the tree

According to Mikaere, stories such as that of my hapū are not uncommon. Over the last decade or so, there has been a renaissance of smaller iwi and hapū reclaiming their mana and identity. As the public profile of these groups grows and they improve their outreach, they are beginning to connect with more whānau. 

“There are times where it is appropriate for us to sit in our respective iwi, hapū or marae. It just depends what the kaupapa is,” says Mikaere.

In the age of digital information, people are becoming more connected with their whakapapa and identity, especially those educated in kaupapa Māori education such as kōhanga reo and kura kaupapa Māori. People who were previously unsure of their iwi are now able to access the information. Those who might have known one of their iwi can now trace their whakapapa back to multiple iwi. Rather than claiming just one of them, Mikaere says many Māori want to connect with all of their whakapapa, which leads to multiple iwi affiliations. 

“I think we’re seeing a growth in hononga or connection. Over the last decade, we’ve seen people reconnecting with all of the different iwi and whakapapa links,” Mikaere says.

There has also been an improvement in data collection methods. For this census, Te Kāhui Raraunga designed the iwi affiliation question by creating an interactive map that allowed whānau to click on different regions, which displayed iwi names and all available options. This change helped users see all possible affiliations and increased the number of affiliations they could select from five to 16.

Verifying whakapapa

A key difference between the census data and the iwi registers, the databases containing member details maintained by iwi, is the verification methods. The census is entirely self affiliation, or people claiming association with an iwi. While each iwi is different, iwi registers usually use some sort of collective verification mechanisms to ensure those registering as members are entitled to do so.

“In the census, you could have a person of Chinese descent accidentally ticking the box claiming they’re Māori,” says Dan Te Kanawa, chief executive of the Tūhono Trust, which manages the national Māori Affiliation Service that helps Māori register with their iwi and other Māori entities.

One idea Te Kanawa pitched to the Department of Internal Affairs is what he calls a “tātai certificate” that could be issued when a baby was born alongside their birth certificate. These certificates would have included information on a person’s grandparents and great grandparents too, something Te Kanawa says would have enabled a “greater flow of information” and allowed iwi affiliations to be predetermined before the child was born. However, progress on the idea was cut short with the change of government and its termination of the introduction of a new civil registration system.

With the ongoing revival and reclamation of identity within te ao Māori, the collection of verified data will be increasingly crucial to the devolution of resources in areas such as social services to the right places. The validation of iwi affiliation data is a task that belongs with iwi, as is the data itself. Just how the data is managed and what it is used for will be essential to ensuring a prosperous future for all Māori.

“How people identify and connect with their identity is crucial for iwi. It helps us understand our people, provide the right support, and strengthen connections, bringing them home,” says Mikaere. “It also allows us to invest in what’s important for our future and ensures we’re here for generations to come. Additionally, it empowers us to shape the services our people need. The more accurately we know who our people are and where they are, the better we can serve them.”

Summer reissue: As tens of thousands showed their support for the hīkoi to parliament, the organisers were busy behind the scenes ensuring things ran smoothly. For many, this was their first time leading a kaupapa of this scale – and it wasn’t all easy.

The Spinoff needs to double the number of paying members we have to continue telling these kinds of stories. Please read our open letter and sign up to be a member today.

First published November 18, 2024.

On August 31, an extraordinary hui was held at Waipapa Marae at the University of Auckland. “The originals” – a group of long-time Māori activists including Hone Harawira (Ngāti Hau, Ngāti Wai, Ngāti Hine, Te Aupōuri, Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Whātua), Annette Sykes (Ngāti Pikiao and Ngāti Makino), Ken Mair (Ngāti Tūpoho), and Mereana Pitman (Ngāti Kahungunu) – called the hui to respond to what they described as the “blitzkrieg that all Māori are facing”, referring to a wave of anti-Māori policy and legislation being introduced by the coalition government.

Significant hui throughout the history of Māori activism have taken place at the University of Auckland. In 1939, the Young Māori Leaders’ Conference brought together luminaries such as Pei Te Hurinui Jones (Ngāti Maniapoto), Michael Rotohiko Jones (Ngāti Maniapoto), and Manuhuia Bennett (Ngāti Whakaue, Ngāti Pikiao and Ngāti Rangitihi). Decades later, in 1970, a pivotal hui sparked the creation of Ngā Tamatoa, the collective that would play a crucial role in the “Māori renaissance” – a period of powerful advocacy for Māori sovereignty that included the Māori land march, the language petition, the haka party protest, and landmark occupations like those at Whāingaroa and Takaparawhau. Members of Ngā Tamatoa, including figures like Harawira, Donna Awatere Huata, Hana Te Hemara and Tame Iti, became icons of this movement, igniting a legacy that continued into the 2000s.

Over the last few years, a new generation of Māori leaders has emerged, many of whom are descendants of those earlier activists. Despite this, there hadn’t been a unifying platform until Toitū Te Tiriti appeared on social media in December 2023, the same day a national “day of action” was held against what many considered anti-Māori policies. Toitū Te Tiriti quickly mobilised and amassed a sizable following, bringing the new generation together under one kaupapa.

On the heels of the August 31 hui, Toitū Te Tiriti posted that “the originals” had asked the new group  to lead the kaupapa. “Toitū and the OGs stand together, united under one banner. We are determined to work together as one, recognising the importance of our shared purpose and commitment to our people,” read the post, signalling the official passing of the rākau to the next generation.

From that point on, the Toitū movement surged forward. Leading the charge was Eru Kapa-Kingi (Te Aupōuri, Ngāpuhi), supported by a team including Kiri Tamihere-Waititi (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Porou, Te Whakatōhea), Hōhepa ‘Hori’ Thompson (Ngāti Toa Rangatira, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa, Kai Tahu), Anahera Tupara (Taranaki, Raukawa ki te Tonga, Ngāti Maniapoto), Te Rawhitiroa Bosch (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Kahu ki Whangaroa), Nyree Manuel (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Kahi ki Whangaroa, Te Arawa), and Wairere Iti (Tūhoe, Waikato, Te Arawa). These young Māori are educated, driven and raised in kaupapa Māori; they know how to mobilise swiftly, use social media effectively, and amplify their voices through an extensive network.

In an interview with The Spinoff, Kapa-Kingi reflected on the immense responsibility. “It’s been a huge learning journey. It’s definitely tough, because there is so much mahi,” he shared.

As we sat by a shed at Ihumātao, where the hīkoi had stopped en route through Tāmaki Makaurau, Kapa-Kingi reflected on the challenges and support he’d received. “This role was handed to us by Uncle [Hone Harawira]. He asked me to step up because he didn’t have the time or energy for this kaupapa. When it landed in our hands, it felt overwhelming.”

Kapa-Kingi admitted that delegating had been key. “We’ve got a team of six. We’ve split the mahi into areas, so each person has their focus. That teamwork makes a big difference. People might think it’s all on me because I’m the kaikōrero, but that’s not true at all.”

The bridge crossing in Auckland, he said, was one of the biggest logistical hurdles. “Today, according to drone footage, we had around 50,000 people. That’s 50,000 lives to be responsible for, which brings a lot of stress,” he admitted. “Logistically, it was intense, but having the experience and wisdom of people like Uncle Rueben there helped us pull it off.”

He’s talking about Rueben Taipari, another “OG” who has long been an activist in Te Tai Tokerau. Reflecting on lessons from his elders, Kapa-Kingi acknowledged the importance of building relationships with entities like the police and council. “Uncle Rueben taught us to start on the right foot with these relationships. It makes everything run more smoothly,” he explained. While social media is vital, he also recognises the need for traditional outreach. “Not everyone is on social media – our aunties and uncles still listen to the radio. If we truly want to include everyone, we’ve got to use all forms of media.”

The next phases of the hīkoi are expected to bring even larger numbers, and the team plans to debrief and keep refining their approach. For Kapa-Kingi, the kaupapa goes far beyond the Treaty Principles Bill that may have been a catalyst. “This is about tino rangatiratanga – claiming our place as tangata whenua and ensuring our mokopuna inherit that mana. Our tūpuna never gave up their mana, and now it’s our turn to stand in it.”

Kapa-Kingi extended an open invitation to those considering joining the hīkoi, which is passing through Porirua today before arriving in Wellington City tomorrow: “This kaupapa is for everyone, Māori and tauiwi alike. Whether it’s joining us in person, flying a flag on your street, or showing support in your own way, every gesture matters. It’s about standing with mana, wherever you are.”