We asked six people well placed to provide some perspective, to address two questions:
1. How well have we done meeting the challenges of, or making progress during, the first quarter of the 21st century?
2. At the start of 2025, what is the most pressing issue/most urgently required action?
Still issues to face, despite the coming of spring
By Edward Ellison
Titiro whakamuri kōkiri whakamua — look back so you can move forward.
It was just nine years after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi that Kāi Tahu formally raised its concerns about broken promises and inadequate land reserves.
In 1857, Kāi Tahu rakatira Matiaha Tiramōrehu sent a second petition to Queen Victoria asking "that the law be made as one ... that the white skin be made just equal with the dark skin ..."
Instead, governors applied assimmilation policies and successive colonial governments excluded or marginalised Māori.
In the 1970s, pleas for legal and social equity with non-Māori resulted in the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal, while the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi emerged from landmark court cases.
After 150 years of deprivation and cultural dispossession, the historic Kāi Tahu Claim was settled in 1998 and the transition from grievance to a healing process for our people began.
As I reflect on where we are today, the past 25 years have felt like the first flush of spring after a long and hard winter. We have seen initial growth and have visions of the upcoming season, but summer is still far off.
Our tūrangawaewae — our marae — have had a spring-clean, where rituals are conducted, hapū meet and manuhiri are greeted. Our marae have a beneficial influence throughout whānau, hapū, iwi and community-wide kaupapa.
Shortly after settlement, we launched Kāi Tahu 2025 — a future vision for our iwi. This was complemented by programmes and investments to stimulate growth, protect cultural practices and share knowledge from the flax roots up. We have experienced a cultural rejuvenation since.
Today, mana whenua uphold a multitude of relationships across all sectors of society, bringing a cultural lens to build and enhance bicultural partnerships and peel back colonisation hangovers. Experience shows that kaupapa Māori services run by Māori for Māori achieve greater reach and produce stronger outcomes. Such services are an effective use of resources that reverse negative statistics.
The Ngāi Tahu Claims Settlement Act 1998 recognised what Kāi Tahu always understood — and exercised — our rakatirataka and role in the sustainable management of natural and physical resources across the takiwā (tribal boundary).
Partnerships and tiered engagement with Crown agencies, local government and others within our takiwā ensure we remain connected. However, the continued decline of our waters, lands and biodiversity has affected our ability to engage in mahi kai (traditional harvesting practices) and our ability to manaaki whānau and manuhiri in the ways of our tīpuna (ancestors).
This situation requires a focus on systems, legislation, leadership and knowledge. Summer is still a long way off. Climate change, weather extremes, sea level rise and carbon issues loom large. Passing the buck does not equate with our values of connectivity with nature, future generations and responsible leadership.
Further, if we remain in denial of domestically driven environmental degradation what chance do we have of responding to global-scale trends and effects?
Up until very recently, there was strong intent by both Treaty partners to work together for the benefit of communities and the environment. That intent remains strong in many sections of our society. Sadly however, the entry of the Treaty Principles Bill into Parliament in the face of clear opposition from the Crown’s other Treaty partner — hapū and iwi Māori — is a flagrant breach of honour and a giant step backwards. Māori have honoured the Treaty, and our expectation is that others should do the same.
Edward Ellison is upoko at Te Rūnaka o Ōtākou and an Otago Peninsula farmer.
The years since 9/11
By Robert G. Patman
Today, nearly 24 years after 9/11, it is possible to identify some major trends that have shaped the world.
First, the post-9/11 era has been marked by the steady erosion of an international rules-based order, enshrined in institutions such as the United Nations and norms such as multilateralism.
The US’ illegal invasion of Iraq in 2003 and Putin’s annexation of Crimea and subsequent full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 were landmarks in this journey.
Second, the post-9/11 world has witnessed a relative decline in US global standing and a corresponding intensification of geopolitical rivalries.
The US’ financial burden of sustaining a global war on terror and China’s emergence as a second superpower coincided with China’s growing assertiveness in the Indo-Pacific region and US counterbalancing efforts, such as a strengthened Quad and new security partnerships such as Aukus.
Third, the post 9/11 global environment has been marked by a steady growth of transboundary issues that are too big for even superpowers to fix.
Problems "without passports" include climate, pandemics and transnational terrorism.
Thus, the post 9/11 transition has been one of alarm and hope. Flagrant breaches of international law and worsening geopolitical tensions co-exist with multiplying problems that can only be resolved through international co-operation.
For New Zealand — a traditional advocate of an international rules-based order and multilateralism — such an environment did not prove to be a hindrance to establishing close ties with both the US and China until around 2016.
At present, the National-led government in New Zealand is facing four major challenges that are likely to define the direction of its foreign policy in 2025.
Aukus
However, the election of Donald Trump, whose "America First" approach carries little support in New Zealand, and the Labour Party’s recent decision to oppose Pillar II membership have made Aukus a more contestable issue in domestic politics.
Putin’s Ukraine Invasion
In strategic terms, Aukus is a sideshow compared with what is at stake in Ukraine. According to Prime Minister Christopher Luxon there is a clear linkage between Russian expansionism, tacitly backed by China and India, and Wellington’s security concerns in the Indo-Pacific and beyond.
Donald Trump’s promised land-for-peace deal would essentially reward Putin’s aggression, but if New Zealand believes restoring Ukraine’s territorial integrity is vital it will have to contribute military aid to Kyiv to make that happen.
Gaza
Over the past 14 months the world has watched as a Hamas terrorist attack in Israel on October 7, 2023, prompted an unrelenting Israeli ground and air offensive in Gaza and an illegal incursion in Lebanon to target Hezbollah.
To date, the National-led coalition’s policy on Gaza seems caught between a demonstrated desire in the UN for an immediate ceasefire and its push for closer alignment with the US, that has used its UN Security Council veto four times to perpetuate a conflict that has killed more than 45,000 Palestinians.
Climate change
Climate change constitutes the greatest threat facing the world. Effects include sea ice loss, rising sea levels, more intense and frequent heat waves, floods and hurricanes.
New Zealand has a target of net-zero emissions by 2050 enshrined in law, but backtracking by the National-led coalition on a range of initiatives — such as reversing the ban on oil and gas exploration and ditching EV subsidies — has resulted in the country dropping seven places to 41st in the global Climate Change Performance Index.
The year ahead
In 2025, the National-led coalition government must decide whether it wishes to sit on the fence in relation to Aukus or Gaza, do more to support Ukraine’s struggle against Russia’s invasion and recognise the reputational risk of being seen to back-pedal on climate mitigation measures.
Robert G. Patman is an inaugural Sesquicentennial Distinguished Chair and a specialist in international relations at the University of Otago.
A nation rediscovers sovereignty
By Janine Hayward
In the past 25 years, Māori and the Crown have addressed breaches of the Treaty of Waitangi relating to well over 90% of New Zealand’s landmass. The Treaty guaranteed that Māori would retain possession of their lands and other treasures, but after 1840 the Crown breached that founding agreement by confiscating land that Māori refused to sell, by individualising communal title at a cost to Māori, by targeting Māori land for public works, by refusing to allow Māori to lease their lands, by sanctioning unethical land purchases and by many other means.
Guided by important Treaty principles, such as partnership and the Crown’s duty to protect Māori Treaty rights, settlements have returned a fraction of this substantial economic loss to Māori, and the Crown has apologised for its dishonourable actions. Treaty settlement Acts document our shared Treaty history for the public record; it’s well worth reading the Crown apology and historical account in the settlement Act for your own region.
This progress has been the envy of other nations struggling to address their colonial past. Perhaps most remarkably, Treaty settlements have happened outside the turmoil of partisan politics and have been supported by all governments because the case for them is so clear. Settlements are transforming communities in positive ways, creating new relationships at the local and regional level, and providing tools to navigate the changing demands of political, social and economic life. There are challenges and obstacles too, of course, but the overall direction of travel in the past 25 years has been positive.
As we step into the next 25 years, 2040 is on the horizon. This marks 200 years since rangatira debated and agreed to Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which guaranteed Māori "rangatiratanga o o ratou whenua" — the continuation of the sovereignty Māori have exercised over their lands for centuries.
As a nation, we are on a path towards addressing the unavoidable fact that Māori rangatiratanga has never been ceded and cannot be cast aside just because Māori are now outnumbered in their own lands. The government’s sovereignty is contingent on this too. This nation was established by means of a peaceful agreement and this is important to our national identity. But if that agreement is not honoured in full, what is the story we will be telling ourselves in the next 25 years about the founding of our nation?
Prof Janine Hayward researches and teaches New Zealand politics, including Treaty of Waitangi politics, at the University of Otago.
An exercise in pushing the boundaries
By Kaia Jamieson
Growing up in the new millennium has, at times, felt like a baptism of fire. The first 20 years of my life were littered with landmarks of profound global events, with a set daily menu of international chaos for breakfast, seminal global progress for lunch and groundbreaking discovery for dinner.
Reading back to a time before I was born, it seems that the modern world is moving more quickly than ever before. While there is discourse to suggest every generation feels this way, the rate of change between generations seems exponential. While the speed of change over the first quarter of the 21st century has meant remarkable advances — for example, in technology, healthcare and equity politics — it has also ushered in an age of climate crisis, overpopulation and increased global conflict. These issues and others are arguably results of the urgency and, perhaps, carelessness with which we have forged ahead in my lifetime.
Taking a step back to consider the past 25 years, I feel as though we have done as much damage as we have repaired. For all the overdue and continual progress we have made towards racial equality in industrialised countries, low-income countries have been made increasingly vulnerable by a burgeoning climate crisis, and continued political and capitalist exploitation. Despite the steps we have taken towards acknowledging the pain and generational damage caused by colonisation and war, genocidal wars, ignoring the Geneva Convention, rage on unabated. The advent of the internet allowed for the democratisation of not only important information but also of misinformation, while the environmentally appealing promise of electric power generation has increased the gap between the world’s richest and poorest. It is as though we are on a see-saw: every crucial upward progression is matched by a devastating step backward.
The constant push and pull of progress has created a tense and divided zeitgeist. With the quantity and speed of progress, the gap between ideologies feels chasmic. I find it difficult to make a moral judgement about our progress as humans when every challenge and triumph feels so intersectional, so intertwined. That being said, I do feel confident that people are largely focused on improvement — whether self-improvement, economic improvement, environmental improvement or social improvement — and that fills me with optimism and hope for the future. Similarly, as an ambitious young woman, there is nowhere in history I would rather be than right here.
At the start of 2025, what is the most pressing issue/most urgently required action?
As possible answers to this question race through my head, I struggle to define the parameters of one from the other. Similarly to the way our challenges and triumphs are interdependent, the issues we face are woven together. Climate change is my biggest concern. Three years of marine science education and a life of diving, surfing and immersion in nature planted the seed for an awareness of the importance and precariousness of our natural environment. It would be ignorant, however, to isolate climate change as our biggest issue; to act as though global warming is not in a cyclical relationship with overpopulation, industrialisation and competitive, conflict-driven nationalism.
While each of these issues weighs heavily on my mind, I do not believe that they are conditions so much as symptoms. My biggest concerns can all be traced back to consumption, or a desire for expansion, and each of them is exacerbated by division. Climate change largely results from economic pressures that privilege consumption and globalisation over climate stability. Global conflict is spurred on by a hunger for more land and power, at the expense of safety and life. Overpopulation, when the layers are peeled back, can be attributed to an implicit desire to ensure the safety of a species. In my opinion, the driving factor behind our problems is a deep-set desire for self-preservation, which today translates to acquisition of money and power, through consumption and expansion.
These urges to sustain oneself above others are individualistic, and leave little room for empathy. This problem is nothing new; throughout history, we have been driven by expansion and upward mobility. The difference is that, now, we are hurtling towards the tipping point, and running out of room to expand. With the earth’s resources drained, cities bursting at the seams and battlefronts lining borders, I wonder how long it will be before there is nowhere to expand, nothing more to consume and no-one else to overpower.
In order to begin tackling these issues, we must place aside aspirations for growth and consider the fate of the planet. The cliche is not lost on me: a young person appealing to the masses, asking all parties to sit down to a multicultural meal and make peace. It is the biggest hope possible, but it has to be my hope. Without this hope, we stay gridlocked at the tipping point, half-heartedly attempting to treat the symptoms of greater issues while we continue to demolish our cultures, planet and one another. For me, the most urgently required action is the cultivation and grand triumph of empathy.
Kaia Kahurangi Jamieson is a student, journalist and documentary film-maker.
Shrinking ice caps provide a clue to our future
By Inga Smith
Climate change action is needed urgently in 2025, and sea ice is one of the most fragile and responsive parts of Earth’s climate system. Sea ice cools our planet in three ways: reflecting sunlight; insulating the ocean; and driving global ocean movement by rejecting salt when the sea ice forms. Changes to sea ice therefore have serious worldwide implications.
In the early 2000s, sea ice started to hit the headlines worldwide because the end-of-summer Arctic sea ice extent dropped dramatically from about six to seven million square km in the late 1990s to about four million square km in 2007. Previously, sea ice was really only something that was in the consciousness of those in the polar regions and people like the scientists who studied it. Arctic sea ice also changed from being about a 50:50 mix of sea ice that was older than one year old and new ice that year, to mostly much younger, and therefore thinner, ice. Many climate scientists thought that the loss of Arctic sea ice would be the wake-up call that would lead governments to take urgent action to curb greenhouse gas emissions. That did not happen.
Meanwhile, around Antarctica, sea ice extent did not seem to be changing much, with, if anything, a small increase between 2007 and 2016. However, in 2016 all of this changed and sea ice extent has decreased ever since. Unlike the Arctic changes to the summer sea ice extent, Antarctic sea ice changes have been most marked in the winter. In 2023, the maximum sea ice extent reached a record low of about 17 million square kilometres, and in 2024 the sea ice extent was similarly very low. This is worrying because it means the sea ice is not forming as extensively in the growing season.
Climate change is not just about more heat in the Earth’s climate system leading to increased warming; higher winds and stronger storms are also a result. In parts of Antarctica, such as McMurdo Sound where New Zealand’s Scott Base is located, increasing storm activity is impacting the local sea ice. In 2019, 2022 and 2024 winter storms repeating blew out sea ice as it was growing, resulting in much thinner sea ice at the end of the growth season.
Research that I have been part of, funded by the Deep South National Science Challenge, the Antarctic Science Platform and the Marsden Fund, has investigated these changes. Through Antarctic field work from Antarctica New Zealand, and high-performance computing resources through NeSI, we have sought to research the future of Antarctic sea ice. In particular, what will the future hold if we continue to emit greenhouse gas through our activities, such as the burning of fossil fuels? Alternatively, if we change course and reduce emissions in line with the scientific consensus, can we stop the changes in Antarctic sea ice?
Assoc Prof Inga Smith is a climate scientist in the University of Otago’s department of physics, specialising in oceanography and the Antarctic.
Ensuring technology remains our tool
By Sam Mann
"Write a 400-word article reflecting on the past 25 years of the 21st century, focusing on information technology," I typed. Within seconds, ChatGPT presented me with a draft that was surprisingly coherent. But this isn’t it. In what might be delightfully anachronistic, I’ve written this by hand, in pencil, in my notebook.
A now-infamous smartphone advertisement showed a colossal machine crushing objects — a violin, a typewriter, a camera — symbolising the smartphone’s ability to replace countless tools. And it isn’t just the smartphone. The progress in the past quarter-century has been awe-inspiring. Computers have consolidated so much of what we do, distilling entire experiences into digital form. Speed and connectivity have been the defining factors: instant messaging, rapid financial transactions and real-time collaboration are now the norm. I teach remotely, one on one with people across the country — they in their work or home offices, me in mine, sometimes at the bus-stop, or from the side of a mountain. And with recent advances in generative AI, we can have a research idea, scope it up and try it out — all during the meeting. While this is undeniably convenient, it also reshapes how we think, work and live.
Underlying these advances are technologies such as AI, smartphones and Web 2.0. These aren’t just tools — they’re paradigms that have made connectivity and efficiency ubiquitous, and democratised access to knowledge.
I grew up messing about in boats, watching the old 12m America’s Cup, tensely waiting for the "first cross". When foiling boats emerged, I missed that prolonged suspense. Seeing them race in person, though, I realised the strategy hadn’t disappeared — it had just become blisteringly fast. AI is doing the same for work: accelerating processes — the crew aren’t passengers, but the nature of sailing has changed. Just as we wonder what roles these new sailors are doing, we need to ask what the nature of our work is.
In an experiment, four of us — including a computer — completed a semester-long business school team project in just over an hour. We passed. So why are we making students slog through semester-long projects? Might they learn more by doing 34 different projects? Certainly, they’ll learn differently, but they’re going to work differently too.
But this acceleration comes with trade-offs. Today, everything we do is mediated by computing. You might be talking with a person, but they are filling in a form. And because computers are terrible at the pesky human things like emotion, empathy and ambiguity, we reduce ourselves to servants of the machine: "the computer says no".
The all-crushing smartphone advertisement, while awe-inspiring, also sparked a backlash. Critics called it dehumanising, arguing that collapsing these tools into one device killed creativity, nuance and the tactile, human experiences these objects once offered. Computing’s apparent lack of values does not mean technology is benign; rather that we have come to presume that efficiency, speed and productivity are values that match societal aspirations.
As we enter the next quarter-century, these aren’t just philosophical questions. We need conversations about the nature of work. Let’s rethink what "productive" means. We must insist technology developers go beyond efficiency and turn their attention to the real world of ambiguity, wicked problems and uncertain outcomes. We need to foster creativity, empathy and human connection to ensure that progress aligns with societal wellbeing. We need to invest in digital literacy and prioritise inclusivity, accountability and sustainability to ensure technology serves humanity, not the other way around.
Sam Mann is a professor at the College of Work-based Learning (Capable NZ) at Otago Polytechnic.
