But something about that exchange stayed with me.
Because if we leave the future of our people entirely in the hands of Government, we also leave an extraordinary amount of power in the hands of whoever happens to occupy the Beehive.
And after this election, that’s worth thinking about.
The Act Party is again in a position to influence the next Government’s direction. Its ambitions for Te Tiriti, the Waitangi Tribunal and Māori representation are hardly a secret.
We’ve already seen what happened with Act’s Treaty Principles bill.
It sought to redefine the principles of Te Tiriti. Instead, it helped mobilise an extraordinary expression of Māori solidarity, building on generations of Māori leadership and resistance.
The hīkoi. The submissions. The conversations around kitchen tables and on marae. A generation reminded that constitutional rights are worth standing up for.
But I’ve been wondering what happens next.
What if all that energy went not only into defending our rangatiratanga, but into exercising it?
I spent six years in Parliament. I know the importance of fighting for Māori rights inside the system.
But since leaving, I’ve rediscovered another side of Māori power.
As someone who sits on the paepae at my marae, and through my connections throughout Te Arawa, I’ve come to appreciate something that can get lost in our big nationwide political conversations.
Our hapū are still here.
Still connecting whānau. Still maintaining tikanga. Still caring for our marae and whenua. Still exercising the authority passed down through generations.
They’re not relics of the past, waiting for a Government policy to give them relevance. They’re living expressions of rangatiratanga, right here in Rotorua.
And that authority doesn’t begin or end with a Crown-recognised organisation, a trust deed or a Government contract.
Around Māori governance tables, I’ve seen landowners making decisions about geothermal development, putting their own capital on the line to explore opportunities beneath their whenua.
I’ve seen kaupapa Māori organisations invest their own resources into testing new services for whānau, rather than waiting for Wellington to design the solution.
And I remember a conversation in 2017 with Tumanako Wereta about Tūaropaki’s geothermal journey.
He told me that when Government support wasn’t forthcoming, the trust found financial backing elsewhere. And when Government eventually came offering assistance, Tūaropaki was in a position to decline.
Think about that.
Rangatiratanga isn’t simply the ability to ask the Crown for help.
It’s having the power to say “no”.
But let’s be clear about something.
Our rangatiratanga doesn’t begin when we build a successful business, win a Government contract or learn to navigate a boardroom.
It was here long before the Crown. Te Tiriti affirmed its continuation.
Nor should Māori have to fund our own freedom while the Crown walks away from its obligations.
The power to say “no” is one expression of rangatiratanga. The greater ambition is having the authority, resources and freedom to determine our own future.
Of course, not every Māori organisation has Tūaropaki’s resources. Some are struggling to keep the lights on. Others are managing tiny parcels of whenua, limited income and enormous expectations.
But the principle remains.
Our future shouldn’t depend entirely on the political goodwill of the Government of the day.
And here’s where I want to challenge us.
There are nearly a million people of Māori descent in Aotearoa.
Imagine what we could achieve if more of us brought our skills, time and energy to the institutions, whenua and communities that carry our collective aspirations.
Attend your marae hui. Find out whether you have interests in Māori land.
Ask your trustees questions. Upskill yourself. Stand for election to a board. Support a kaupapa Māori business.
Learn your reo. Find your tikanga. Know your whakapapa. Reconnect with your hapū.
And if you’re already sitting around a governance table, ask yourself some harder questions.
Are we simply protecting the assets we’ve inherited, or are we building opportunities for the generations who follow?
Are we measuring success only by the size of our balance sheets, or by the wellbeing of our people?
Are we waiting for the Government to tell us what’s possible?
None of this excuses the Crown from honouring Te Tiriti. Our constitutional rights are not conditional on how wealthy, organised or capable we become.
We must continue defending those rights.
But defending rangatiratanga and exercising rangatiratanga are not competing ambitions.
They strengthen each other.
Act’s Treaty Principles Bill helped mobilise a new generation.
What happens next is up to us.
To the nearly one million Māori in Aotearoa: don’t just watch the next three years unfold from the sidelines. Get involved in exercising your own rangatiratanga.
Because Governments come and go.
Our whakapapa doesn’t.
And our future is too important to leave entirely in somebody else’s hands.
Tāmati Coffey is a former broadcaster and Labour MP who represented Waiariki from 2017 to 2020 and served in Parliament until 2023. He is no longer a member of any political party.