By Emma Barnes-Wetere (Ngāti Maniapoto, Tainui)
The Old Government Buildings (OGB) stand as an imposing relic of colonial rule - one that not only shaped the Aotearoa legal landscape but also inflicted significant harm on Māori. Technically, any Victoria University of Wellington student can study there. However, it’s predominantly used by second-year students and above who have survived the competitive first-year culling and officially gotten into Law School. Furthermore, the structure itself with its grandiose façade, the birdcage-style lifts and the Kauri ‘hanging stairs,’ creates an elitist impression. For these reasons, it can feel like the students there have a bit of a god complex (and we probably do). While OGB now serves as a hub for future legal minds, it was once the very place where some of the most harmful decisions against Māori were made. The building is more than an institution of learning; it stands as a reminder of a painful past that I, as a tauira Māori, am navigating while forging my own path in the legal world.
OGB is one of Aotearoa’s most significant historic buildings. Since its opening in 1876 when provincial governments were abolished and a central government was established, the building has housed Premiers, Cabinet Meetings, and most of Aotearoa’s public service. But less attention is paid to the fact that OGB is also a place where some of the most harmful decisions against Māori were made in our history.
To illustrate this point, the decision to invade Parihaka in 1881 – now regarded as one of the most severe violations of civil and human rights ever committed in Aotearoa – was made at OGB. During the 1870s Parihaka was the largest Māori settlement in Aotearoa. It was a place that had come to symbolise peaceful resistance to the confiscation of Māori land. The government responded by sending 1600 armed troops to sack the settlement. Women and girls were molested and raped. Māori men were wrongfully arrested and forced into manual labour as slaves. The original infrastructure of many Aotearoa cities, including Dunedin, was built by these slaves.
On top of that, the Treaty of Waitangi documents were discovered in the basement of OGB in 1908, water-damaged and partially eaten by rats. It's a strange contrast to march in the Hīkoi mō te Tiriti while studying in the building where that foundational document was once considered so insignificant it was left to the rodents. What was once abandoned and forgotten - left to decay in the dark - now upheld as a living document at the heart of ongoing calls for Māori rights. The contrast is stark, a reminder of both how far we’ve come and how much further we have to go.
The decisions made in OGB serve as some of the most direct and obvious examples of the harms of colonisation on Māori, which can make studying there feel quite heavy. OGB is a symbol of a colonial past; it tells a deeper story of Pākehā power. This is why it's so important that our Law School is a safe space for its tauira. It’s also why our Māori and Pasifika (MPI) spaces at OGB, which are inviting and deeply valued, play such a crucial role in fostering belonging.
The name of our MPI room at OGB is Te Kauwae Parāoa, a reference to the jawbone of a whale. In that room four panels display the artwork of a whale, using kōwhaiwhai and Pacific patterns, to liken Māori and Pasifika students' pursuit of knowledge at Law School to the vast migration of a whale. Each week, this room is filled with the sound of beautiful waiata and powerful haka. Attending kapa haka at OGB brings me joy. It’s a rare opportunity where we can be completely and unashamedly Māori. It’s a reclamation of that space. We are not just occupying a room, we are making it ours, transforming it from a site of colonisation into one of empowerment and mana motuhake.
Another amazing kaupapa we run is the annual Ngā Rangahautira Māori Moot competition. This event is not just a legal debate; it is an opportunity to witness tauira moving fluidly between the Pākehā legal system and tikanga Māori. In a largely monocultural institution which can embed the view that Pākehā law and Western knowledge is superior to tikanga Māori, this Moot stands as an inspirational representation of indigenising the law. The Moot is another example of positive change at OGB - shifting from a place that has historically harmed Māori to one that actively incorporates and values tikanga Māori and mātauranga Māori.
On balance, even if we have symbols of Māori ownership at OGB like whakairo, I don’t think it can ever truly be as much a Māori space as a Pākehā institution. Tikanga Māori is made on the marae, after all. There is a misconception that the MPI programme is solely based on disadvantage. However, the MPI programme is also important because it affirms Māori and Pasifika tauira should be proud of who they are and where they come from. Ultimately, I do believe, despite what’s happening across the road, we’re now in a time where Māori and Pasifika can walk through the doors of OGB with their culture intact, to a place they belong.
