When being ‘a little bit Māori’ becomes a career move

In recent years, there’s been a noticeable trend in New Zealand’s political landscape. More and more people are identifying as Māori, including some who don’t fit the traditional image. Whether this marks a long-overdue recognition of whakapapa or a calculated political move depends on your perspective, but the pattern is hard to miss.

Take Nelson’s Deputy Mayor, Rohan O’Neill-Stevens, for example. At just 24, he has attracted attention not only for his youth and rapid rise but also for his claim to Māori and European ancestry, with links to Ngāti Apakura. On the surface, it’s a respectful nod to his heritage. But it’s fair to ask whether his political trajectory would have looked the same without that aspect of his identity

O’Neill-Stevens appears Pākehā - like really Pākeha. That doesn’t mean he isn’t Māori, but it does raise questions in a time where identity plays a major role in how people are perceived, especially in politics and media.

The way media outlets frame his story shows just how powerful identity has become. One headline reads: “Young tāne Māori puts his hand up to lead storm-battered Nelson Council”, clearly highlighting his Māori roots. At the same time, woke platforms like The Spinoff focus on other aspects of who he is, with pieces like “What it’s like to be a queer person in local politics.”

O’Neill-Stevens himself has said that he returned to Nelson after studying, only to find little progress on key issues like housing and climate change. He said the situation “viscerally pissed [him] off” and that none of the existing candidates at the time inspired him or represented the communities he connects with.

It’s clear he’s passionate. But there’s also a finely tuned narrative at work here, one that speaks directly to younger, progressive voters. Today, political advantage often comes from ticking identity boxes. That reality should give us pause.

This isn’t to say that O’Neill-Stevens lacks talent or belief in what he’s doing. But we should be cautious about how easily identity can become a kind of political currency. It’s worth asking whether people are being rewarded more for who they are perceived to be than for what they have actually done.

Heritage and whakapapa should be respected, not leveraged. If we reduce identity to a strategic label, we risk undermining the very people and histories we claim to support.

True representation matters. But when identity starts becoming the main qualification, we all lose something important.