When the tides shift, any good navigator knows it is time to pause and observe where they are going. When it comes to te reo Māori, it feels like the tide is not only shifting, its retreating entirely.

The recent media coverage over Māori language “stop/go” signs in Hawke’s Bay is an example of how quickly common sense can be swallowed up by culture war politics. The signs — one side reading “HAERE” and the other “TAIHOA” — were installed by a local contractor, Tūpore Infrastructure, in an effort to reflect te reo Māori in everyday life. 

The Prime Minister took to Newstalk ZB to say: “When we see it, we call it out.” The signs, he claimed, were “not appropriate”. This was in response to the interviewerʻs questions about so-called “Māorification” by the public service. As the Māori Language Commissioner, Iʻd like to call this out. 

The signs in question weren’t official NZTA signs. They weren’t an attempt by someone in the public service to confuse drivers. They were a small but meaningful gesture that reflects a broader movement to uplift te reo Māori. Tūpore Infrastructure chose Māori language signage not to make a point, but to make a difference. And while The Herald quoted a concerned citizen citing the Oxford Dictionary to discredit the word ʻtaihoaʻ, the irony is not lost on the issue: we’re now debating Māori meanings using English dictionaries. That’s not about language — that’s about power.  

Across the globe, monolingual signage is common — and yes, people respond to shapes and colours more than they do words. The red octagon means stop. We know this. The real issue is not “confusion.” It’s discomfort with a language that some still see as political rather than normal. 

This fear of so-called “Māorification” is nothing new. But it is completely out of step with the Crown’s own strategy — Maihi Karauna — which sets out bold, visionary goals for one million New Zealanders to speak basic te reo Māori by 2040, and for the language to be increasingly heard, seen, and valued in daily life. 

Māori language signs are part of that. They are everyday affirmations that te reo belongs here — not just in schools or on marae, but in the streets, on job sites, and in the rhythms of everyday life.  So, when government leaders claim Māori signage is confusing or unnecessary because “everyone speaks English,” they’re not just missing the point — they’re undermining their own policy. 

Let’s not forget: te reo Māori is an official language. Its public visibility is not a luxury, it’s a right. And its survival — its thriving — depends on us seeing it, hearing it, and using it everywhere. This isn’t about whether a road sign says “stop” or “taihoa.” It’s about whether our country is willing to move forward on the tide of revitalisation — or retreat into tired, old patterns of resistance and fear. 

So yes — taihoa e haere. Let’s stop the erasure of our first language in the name of political expedience. The tide needs to turn.