The earliest known connector of Whāngārā to distant places is Paikea, the ancestor of Ngāti Porou and Kai Tahu, who arrived in Aotearoa at Whāngārā on the back of a tohorā after his brother, Ruatapu, failed in his plan to kill him—a story recounted by Tā Derek Lardelli in one of the first videos you encounter in the 3D tour. Stories about Paikea (conflated with Kahutia-te-rangi in the kōrero tuku iho of some iwi) connected Aitutaki and Mangaia in the Cook Islands with Aotearoa; Paikea’s descendants connected Te Tairāwhiti to Te Waipounamu. The story of Paikea was also central to Witi Ihimaera’s novel Whale Rider, and the film adaptation of it. Paikea sits astride a whale at the pinnacle of Whitireia, one of two wharenui at Whāngārā marae, facing out to sea.

A young rugby-mad priest named William Brown Turei arrived as minister of Pātoromu Church in Whāngārā in 1952, his first parish placement after ordination. In coming to serve Pātoromu, he drew to a close a four-year-period in which this parish had no minister. Rev. Brown got married himself at Pātoromu to a local, Mihi King, he played rugby locally, and—as current minister, Rev. Hone Kaiwai recalls—he spent Sunday afternoons after church leading kapa haka practice at the marae in Whāngārā. Images and stories about his time in Whāngārā are also collected in tags throughout the interior of the church scan. Rev. Brown moved on to other parishes and roles after 1959, was elected Pihopa o Aotearoa in 2005, and Archbishop of the Anglican Church for tikanga Māori (after some legislative changes) soon afterwards. He served in that role until his death in 2017, aged 92.

Tā (Sir) Derek Lardelli is an example of someone deeply connected to whenua, who has leaped onto national and international stages (both literally and figuratively) many times. A visual artist, historian, and academic, Tā Derek is also a renowned kapa haka leader, composer, and performer. He composed the Kapa o Pango haka specifically for the All Blacks, which debuted in 2005; the character of Maui performed part of this haka during in the Disney film Moana, as he was staring down fiery obliteration by the goddess Te Kā, in the climactic scene. The kapa haka rōpu he leads, Whāngārā Mai Tawhiti, won the top prize at Te Matatini in 2017; they performed at both the Paris Olympics opening ceremony and by the Eiffel Tower in 2024. They were a force to be reckoned with in the finals of Te Matatini in 2025 too, performing a powerful haka composed by Tā Derek about the scourge of methamphetamine (which featured Kauri’s gravity-defying brother, Tāmati). Tā Derek has been an artist-in-residence several times internationally, but continues to be based in Tairāwhiti. He was knighted for services to Māori Art in 2020. He has shared kōrero about Paikea, Ngāti Konohi, the foundation stone of Pātoromu and much else, all of which you can watch by opening the tags placed out the front of the Pātoromu scan.

On the Sunday we visited, in July 2025, there was an icy chill in the air, and the inside of Pātoromu was very cold. A tangi was being held at another church for someone with wide-ranging whānau connections around Tairāwhiti, so the group who gathered for worship was smaller than expected. Among those who were present, though, was Dame Ingrid Collins (née King), who lives in Whāngārā, and who was knighted for her services to Māori, Business and Health Governance in the New Year Honours 2025. The Whāngārā B5 Incorporation, to which she has contributed 50 years of governance, is regarded as an ‘exemplar of best practice, sustainability and innovation for Māori land development’. Dame Ingrid has also been a representative on the United Nations Indigenous Forum. A celebration and service to celebrate her knighthood was held in June 2025, with so many well-wishers that the church service was also held at Whitireia at Whāngārā Marae because everyone couldn’t fit in Pātoromu.

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The theme of the conference, from lamentation to hope, suggests a spectrum (along which different speakers situated themselves) as well as directional movement. Tuvaluan theologian Tafue Lusama, from Pacific Theological College, argued that to lament is to be prophetic. Several speakers spoke of distressing and challenging events, but rather than being crushed by their destruction or destructive potential, considered the promise inherent in them. Anglican Bishop Nicholas Chamberlain from the Diocese of Lincoln mentioned that his diocese was almost insolvent in 2019. Professor Elisabeth Holland, a renowned scientist specialising in climate change and ocean systems, spoke about environmental tipping points, points after which change becomes irreversible. Yet both shifted from lamentation over these circumstances towards hope. The financial challenges of Bishop Nicholas’s diocese offered an opportunity to change for the better, and for a total reframing and reprioritising of their ecological goals. Care for the environment is now central to the work of the diocese. Professor Holland cautioned strongly about the potential realities of unchecked climate change, but alongside that lamentation she offered the potential of a tipping point for good, comprised of divestment from fossil fuels and other solutions which are being developed by scientific research.

In order to tip those balances in the right direction, many speakers talked about what actions and connections needed to be strengthened in order to make a positive difference with real impact. There was much emphasis upon the partnerships that must be forged between churches and scientists. Though some in the community—even the leaders of some churches—hold religion and science to be in opposition, that is not the case and need not be the case: creating and investing in connections between the two is a critical way forward. While there is benefit for church leaders and scientists in engaging with political processes, particularly in bodies like the United Nations’ COP, it is also clear—as Anglican Archbishop Emeritus Dr. Winston Halapua pointed out—that political lifespans are short compared with the work of the church. Because politicians’ term of influence can be brief, scientists and church leaders should be talking to corporations as well as political leaders. In addition, Anglican Archbishop Julio Murray argued that though COP is a significant body, the real work of combatting climate change doesn’t happen at its meetings. Churches also have the opportunity to communicate from within, from a cultural context that could reach climate change deniers or millenarian Christians and lead to concrete local action. Archbishop Winston urged church leaders to do something with what they have: words. And Rev. Dr. Hirini Kaa, Manukura of St John’s Theological College in Auckland, described the comfort and spiritual support provided by the Anglican Church to those impacted by the devastation of Hurricane Gabrielle in Tairawhiti in 2023.

Another strand woven from many speakers’ points was that people of all ages can contribute to the work of protecting the environment around us. Several spoke of the importance of listening to as well as guiding youth. Reverend James Bhagwan of the Methodist Church in Fiji, and General Secretary of the Pacific Council of Churches, began his talk by asking his daughter Antonia to read her published poem, itself a lament, titled ‘Don’t let my home sink like the sun’. He called for indigenous climate knowledge to be brought into the curriculum of schools, including church-run primary and secondary schools, using empowering decolonised language. He called also for theological colleges to take two particular steps. First, to prioritise climate change work, so that it will be brought to the communities where graduates will go after their training. Second, to make actions which resist or reverse climate change a part of church life in the round rather than a separate programme, recognising the interconnectedness of this work with all of religious life and practice. The seeds of hope are not tended only by the young; Anglican Archbishop of Polynesia, Sione Ulu’ilakepa, told a story about an elderly man, Mihati, who took on some of the clean-up after Cyclone Kita in Tonga in 2018. Mihati responded with openness and positivity even after his house and all of his possessions in it had been destroyed by the cyclone, and he was eager to make a contribution to his community’s survival. In addition to supporting youth, Archbishop Sione advised listening to the wisdom of those with experience and knowledge.

Speakers also stressed the importance of reframing economic models and moving away from the orthodoxies of capitalism and neo-imperialism. Rev. Dr. Cliff Bird of the Uniting Church of the Solomon Islands spoke about his work reimagining the dominant model of economic projection away from GDP and a focus on growth. The political pressure being exerted right now by mining companies, who want to extract minerals from the deep ocean, alongside the environmental impacts of historical mineral extraction and the destruction of forests, leaves us ecologically poorer and less stable; Dr. Bird argued that the economic model of market growth/GDP as a measure of the economy is weak. Sharing and reciprocity preceded capitalism, and this informed his work in formulating Reweaving the Ecological Mat (REM), published by the Pacific Council of Churches. Rev. James Bhagwan pointed out that the ocean plays an important role in absorbing carbon and in producing 50-60% of the oxygen we breathe, and yet the ocean is mapped for exploitation and as a part of an economic war for resources. Feiloakitau Tevi directed a question at those from Aotearoa: what is your role in exploiting others in the Pacific? Similarly, Dr. Paul Roughan cautioned against the neo-imperialism which is present in the Pacific, and warned about treating some legal strategies as a panacea. He pointed out the risks of naming the ocean as a person (as has been done with the Whanganui River in Aotearoa) because while this strategy appears to protect the ocean, people can be subjected to custodianships, and controlled by lawyers.

The final strand highlighted here is the power of the unknown and how an awareness of how much we do not know must temper advocates of further extraction. Taholo Kami, the United Nations’ IUCN Regional Director for Oceania and the Pacific, showed an image of nodules at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Scientists have recently realised that these nodules are charged, and can break apart water molecules to produce oxygen deep in the ocean where light cannot reach. This ‘dark’ oxygen sits counter to the orthodoxies about the production of oxygen on our planet. Messing with these nodules—as would happen were proposed deep sea mining to proceed at scale—could have significant flow-on impacts on the health and even survival of those of us who live outside the ocean. Though there is much we cannot see or do not yet know about its systems and its depths, the ocean is central to life on land.

The Moana Water of Life 2 conference was livestreamed and can be watched here.

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Meanwhile, in the same article, the ACT Party education spokesperson Laura Trask provided an statement criticising the ‘flawed and divisive’ curriculum, and suggesting it divides ‘history into villains and victims, contains significant gaps and entrenches a narrow understanding of New Zealand’s history.’

The statements of these two MPs reflect different ideas of ‘balance’. Stanford explores the ‘balance’ of scale—to what extent should we zoom out and look at national and international perspectives alongside local examples? Trask seems to emphasise ‘balance’ of viewpoint, though her critique is harder to reconcile with the curriculum documents and the ERO report. Exploration of the viewpoints of different historical actors is one of the critical components of the curriculum, particularly as ākonga progress through their intermediate years and beyond.

Whether one is in agreement with these government MPs or not, the ERO report and its reception provides a salient opportunity for historians and those producing curriculum support materials to ask themselves how they might bring ‘balance’ to their mahi, and to reflect on what ‘balance’ looks like for their organisation. How will we, as a project inaugurated by the Anglican Hāhi, seek balance in our mahi?

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The Northern Michigan Diocese of the Episcopal Church has launched a travelling exhibit, intended as a step towards reconciliation with indigenous people in the area, which engages with the impact of the residential schools system on First Nations people in the United States. These schools were intended to assimilate native children into the dominant culture of the United States, and to erase indigenous languages and cultural practices. The exhibit designers have sought to document ‘how Indigenous boarding schools’ legacy continues to impact Native American people today’, through survivors’ personal narratives, and also to tell histories and cultural practices of Anishinaabe people (one of several tribes in the region) through to the present day.

After reading this article, I had two responses to it that may inform our ongoing mahi at He Taonga Tuku Iho. Though there are many elements of digital material in this exhibition (QR codes to connect to survivors telling their stories, for instance), it is a physical, touring exhibition. The rationale for the physicality of the exhibition is not explored in this article, but those who created it clearly expect there to be benefits from people interacting with it in a physical space. How will we balance physical accessibility with technological accessibility?

Second: when telling stories about historical violence and injustice, particularly stories which continue to resonate with or circumscribe the lives of descendants of those targeted by that violence and injustice, should reconciliation be the expected outcome? Reconciliation is a two-way process, a moving towards one another. Is creating an exhibition in hopes that it will lead to reconciliation impelling victims to behave in a proscribed way in the present?

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