Eru Kapa-Kingi: challenge and change

As the early morning sun cast long shadows over the Far North town of Te Kao, hundreds prepared to embark on a hīkoi that would stretch over nine days, culminating at the steps of Parliament.

Their mission was clear: to challenge the Treaty Principles Bill and uphold the mana of Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Leading them was Eru Kapa-Kingi, an emerging leader in te ao Māori. At age 28, the law academic and activist ultimately mobilised one of the largest public demonstrations in New Zealand’s recent history. But for Eru, of Ngāpuhi and Te Aupōuri descent, this was more than political activism – it was an act of whakapapa, a reclamation of identity and duty.

“Protecting the tapu, the mana, the integrity of Te Tiriti o Waitangi is something that’s closely aligned with my purpose and my identity,” he says.

“It’s tied to my journey of reclaiming my reo, my connections to who I am, to my iwi, Te Aupōuri and Ngāpuhi. I’ve come to see just where I fit in that puzzle in the matrix of te ao Māori.

“Te Tiriti and He Whakaputanga [the 1835 declaration of independence], and the kōrero that surrounds them, I’m drawn to it on more than an academic level.”

That journey began in the lecture halls of Victoria University where Eru graduated with a conjoint law and arts (te reo Māori) degree with honours, and later continued at Waipapa Taumata Rau. In 2023 he joined Auckland Law School as a professional teaching fellow, where he designs and teaches compulsory courses on te ao Māori me ōna tikanga (the Māori world and its cultural practices).

The Kapa-Kingi name is well-known in the political sphere. His mother, Mariameno Kapa Kingi, is the MP for Te Tai Tokerau and is a mentor and someone he deeply respects. Given this, Eru was once drawn to follow in her footsteps, but his participation in the hīkoi shifted his perspective.

“Before the hīkoi, I’d been thinking on a lot of things, reading, writing and comparing the lives of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. It started to challenge my thinking around what it means to be political and what it means to be a politician.”

As Eru pondered the legacies of these two US civil rights leaders, he came across an author who argued that they were the greatest unelected politicians of their time.

“Reflecting on my own history, I thought of Dame Whina Cooper, and I could say the same thing about her – she was one of the most influential unelected politicians of her generation.”

After the hīkoi, these insights solidified for Eru, who says: “You don’t have to be an MP to create change – and not being disparaging of my mum as an MP, there’s definite influence to be made there, but that’s not the be-all and end-all of being political.

“The strength of being political outside of that Pākehā paradigm is exactly that – being outside of that paradigm. We can reclaim what it means to be political as Māori.”

A family of leaders

For Eru, leadership is woven into whānau. As one of a set of triplets, he has never walked his journey alone. His brothers, Heemi and Tipene, are just as deeply committed to the kaupapa.

Heemi is a clinical psychologist at the University of Auckland’s Faculty of Science and a board member for Te Kōhao Health, a kaupapa Māori health organisation. Tipene, with a background in accounting and consulting, now serves as the CEO of Te Aupōuri.

Despite their different professions, they share a purpose to uplift the mana of Māori.

“I’ve always had them. They’re my mates, people who have my back,” says Eru. “Even though we’ve arrived in different places, we’ve taken the same journey together. We are all geared towards the same ideals, but we have distinguishable skill sets. We’ve all just naturally landed where we have.”

Their vision was on display at Waitangi 2025, where the triplets and their cousin Ngāhuia Harawira organised and facilitated a four-day forum that brought together influential voices, including academics, community leaders, politicians and rangatahi.

Discussions ranged from Indigenous economics to hauora Māori, tangata Tiriti and tangata Moana perspectives, story sovereignty, and what it means to be Māori and political. The forum also welcomed Indigenous delegations from countries including Tahiti and Canada.

During the Waitangi Day pōwhiri for Parliamentarians, Eru took a stand. As politicians made their entrance, he led a separate haka. He says it was a direct challenge, that sent an unambiguous message: ‘You are not welcome here’. The act was not symbolic; it was a deliberate response to the voices of the hapū within his iwi, Ngāpuhi, who he says made it clear that certain politicians should not attend, following a year of what they felt were attacks on Māori rights and sovereignty.

“A necessary part of change is challenge. To stand with the many who want change and lay that challenge was an honour, and hopefully something that future generations can look to as an example.”

For Eru and his brothers, this was part of a much larger movement that reclaims space, challenges systems, and reminds Aotearoa that Te Tiriti o Waitangi is not just a historical document, but a living covenant that shapes the future.

Another key figure in Eru’s journey is Te Tai Tokerau leader and activist Hone Harawira. A former University of Auckland student, he played a crucial role in activism with Ngā Tamatoa and the Polynesian Panthers – movements that challenged systemic injustices in Aotearoa.

“My uncle Hone Harawira has played a big role, even though at times he gives me advice I never asked for,” laughs Eru.

“Often, it is the advice that I probably needed. I’m glad we have that kind of relationship.”

The responsibility of fatherhood

Beyond his academic and political pursuits, Eru is a partner and father – roles that have given him a deeper perspective. His son, nearing his first birthday, has provided him with a renewed sense of purpose.

“It’s funny how that changes your world. Fatherhood gives me a greater sense of focus in terms of drive. But I also need to balance all of my mahi with being a present pāpā,” he says.

“Before he was born, there was this kind of amorphous thing I was striving toward, and then that amorphous thing grew legs and arms and a head. Now he lives with me, and he’s cute.”

Eru also holds a strong belief that while kaupapa is important, the most important kaupapa is whānau.

“Whānau is what makes us Māori; we exist as a culture and a people because of each other. Whānau is also spiritually important because they keep us grounded in Te Ao Mārama.”

Decolonising the law and academia

For Eru, academia is not just a career path but an opportunity for transformation. He sees universities as central to the colonial project in Aotearoa and believes they have a responsibility to undo its damage.

“We need to start realising that universities were one of the primary tools of colonisation in Aotearoa, replacing Māori philosophy, Māori ways of thinking, speaking and acting.

“That places an obligation on academics today to really contribute to the deeper, longer-term decolonisation project,” he says.

“And it’s not just an academic topic but a lived reality. It should be a daily practice that all people in Aotearoa contribute to.

“My goal in life is to close the gaps between the wonderful theories of Māori independence and the minds of my people, no matter what reality they come from. To take kōrero to the dinner table, to the hāngi pit, to the marae, to the dairy down the road, to the staff smoko room. The journey of liberation must include all strands of te iwi Māori, and indeed Aotearoa generally.”

Te Rina Triponel