There is a specific kōrero from T.W. Ratana that has been weighing heavy on my heart lately. It’s a prophecy that sounds simple on the surface, but when you look closer, it’s a forensic warning about the survival of our iwi. Ratana warned his people against bartering away their future for things that don’t last. He spoke of a time when the land—our very life force—would be traded for "flour, sugar, potatoes," or in other versions, "flour, sugar, tea, and tobacco".

This wasn't just about what was in the pantry; it was about the "Leaky Bucket" economy we’ve been trapped in for too long. Ratana saw a future where we would give up our means of production (the land) for cheap, consumable goods that leave us empty in the end. It’s a warning about trading our long-term sovereignty for short-term "benefits" that ultimately keep us dependent.

In the misty, rugged heart of the Urewera, there is a story of hope and heartache that every one of us should hold close. It’s the story of Rua Kēnana Hepetipa and the community he built at Maungapōhatu. Following the guidance of the Spirit and the prophecies of Te Kooti, Rua led his people—the Iharaira—away from the distractions of the world to build a "City of God" right on the slopes of the sacred mountain.

For Rua, this wasn’t just about religion; it was about protecting the mana of his people⁴. He saw how the system was designed to keep Māori as "static subjects"—labourers on their own land—and he decided to flip the script. He envisioned a place where faith and work were one, where the community looked after its own, and where the future was decided by the people, not a distant bureaucracy.

I was driving behind a line of logging trucks heading toward Marsden Point the other day, and it hit me. We aren’t just looking at timber; we are watching the literal skin and bone of Papatūānuku being shipped offshore. This is the "Leaky Bucket" in real-time. We export the sunlight, the rain, and the soil nutrients—the embodied energy of our whenua—and in return, we get a bit of fiat currency that leaks straight back out on petrol and plastics.

In our latest research, we’ve identified that the struggle in the North isn't just about a lack of money; it’s a battle between two different operating systems: Babylon and Zion.

Babylon is the system of extraction. It’s built on "Newtonian" software—the idea that everything is separate. It treats the land as dead matter and people as atomised units of labour. This is what we call Chrematistics: the art of making money for its own sake. It’s thermodynamically "Entropic," meaning it creates disorder. It leaves us with road damage, silted harbours, and social fragmentation.