Ground Zero, The TV3 Hit piece and The Awataha Story They Never Really Told You
- Anthony Paetawa Wilson
- May 11
- 9 min read
The Hero. The Villain. The Saviour.
About four years ago, TV3’s The Hui aired a story on Awataha Marae that many in our community still regard as one of the most one-sided pieces of Māori current affairs television seen in recent memory.
But wait - it gets better.
This was actually part two of an earlier “Masterclass of Hit Piece Journalism” aired years prior. Some new characters trotted out to spearhead the new drama. Some old ones. Same battered storyline. Same narrative arc. Same authors. Same conclusion already decided before the interviews even began.
The programme came wrapped in all the familiar ingredients of modern outrage journalism: dramatic pauses, carefully selected critics, claims of exclusion, questions around tangihanga, and enough dark-toned editing to make viewers think Awataha Marae was the evil empire.
It was compelling television and as the saying goes:
"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story"
Because what viewers were shown was a narrow view. A simplistic view.
The hero. The villain. The saviour.
What viewers were not shown was the far bigger political struggle quietly unfolding behind the scenes: a struggle involving Treaty settlement politics, overlapping mana whenua interests, Crown land processes, leasehold pressure, governance battles, and ultimately the future control of Māori whenua and Māori authority on the North Shore.
One has to ask: if journalism’s role is to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable,” why did this story appear so determined to afflict a struggling urban marae serving its community while avoiding deeper scrutiny of the far more powerful interests orbiting around it?
Because make no mistake - Awataha Marae was never simply “a local dispute.”
It sat at the intersection of Treaty politics, Auckland land interests, iwi influence, Crown relationships, and very real financial stakes. That part rarely made it into the headlines.
The Missing Context
What the cameras did not seriously examine was the broader environment surrounding Awataha at the time;
There were unresolved issues relating to the Awataha Wai 187 claim.
There were growing tensions around the Crown’s Agreement in Principle (AIP) processes involving Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Whātua and overlapping interests in the whenua.
There were ongoing debates about who should ultimately hold influence, authority, or strategic control over key Māori assets and spaces on the North Shore.
And there were substantial financial questions quietly sitting in the background.Questions such as:
Why were certain parties so invested in destabilising Awataha Marae governance?
Why was internal dissent being elevated publicly while broader structural issues were ignored?
Why were political and iwi dynamics treated as untouchable subjects?
And why did a community marae become the focus of such sustained pressure?
These are legitimate public-interest questions. Yet somehow, the cameras always seemed pointed in only one direction.
In short: the cameras focused on the smoke while ignoring the fire.
Journalism or Theatre?
Good journalism asks difficult questions of everyone involved.
Bad journalism decides who the villain is first and builds the programme backwards from that conclusion. Looking back now, the broadcast feels less like an investigation and more like a carefully curated prosecution brief.
A stitch-up? Many certainly think so.
According to formal legal correspondence later sent by Anderson Creagh Lai Lawyers to Discovery’s Standards Committee, Awataha believed the programme breached broadcasting standards relating to fairness, balance, and accuracy.
The complaint argued the broadcaster made “virtually no effort” to properly present Awataha’s side of the story and that the programme could reasonably be interpreted as an attempt to “smear and destroy Awataha’s reputation.”
Strong words.
But perhaps understandable given what followed. Awataha representatives reportedly proposed multiple governance figures participate in interviews, yet the broadcaster allegedly insisted on speaking with only one representative while extensively platforming critics of the marae leadership.
Apparently “balance” was unavailable that week.
The Real Story Was Always the Whenua
Because the real story was never merely about tangihanga, personalities, or internal disagreement.
The real story was whenua.
More specifically: who ultimately gets recognised, empowered, and positioned to control Māori whenua and Māori spaces on the North Shore. At the centre of all this sat the unresolved Awataha Wai 187 claim.
That matters.
Because the debate around Awataha Marae was never simply about governance personalities or tangihanga processes. It was fundamentally about whenua and rangatiratanga.
Leading up to and since 2017 when the Agreement in Principle (AIP) was signed, media pressure against Awataha intensified, the Crown was simultaneously progressing its Agreement (AIP) negotiations with Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Whātua (TRON), while the Commissioner of Crown Lands was increasing scrutiny and pressure on Awataha itself.
A literal political trifecta.
Again: that matters...All of this because of tangihanga and disagreements? This tale is sounding more like a "Weapons of Mass Destruction pretence for invasion"..something our tipuna knew all about when they lost their lands.
The AIP was not some harmless bureaucratic side-note buried deep in government paperwork.
The AIP potentially shaped the future ownership and control framework surrounding Awataha whenua itself.
And this is where the television narrative became not merely incomplete — but dangerously simplistic.
Because the Crown had already acknowledged overlapping mana whenua interests involving Te Kawerau ā Maki and Ngāti Manuhiri within the wider area.
That point is critical.
Because it completely dismantles the simplistic public narrative that there was one uncontested authority over the whenua. There was not.
The reality was and remains, politically, culturally, and historically far more complex.
Yet somehow viewers were encouraged to see everything through the narrow lens of:
“Concerned community members versus problematic marae leadership.”
Clean. Simple.Television-friendly. But reality is rarely that tidy.
The Conflict Nobody Wanted to Discuss
And then there is the question many quietly asked at the time but few publicly raised:
Should viewers have been fully informed of potential perceived conflicts surrounding the programme itself?
At the time, Mihingarangi Forbes had governance associations connected to Ngāti Paoa structures -another iwi with recognised interests within the wider Auckland iwi political sphere and, according to some claims, interests connected to the broader Awataha whenua landscape.
To be absolutely clear: there is no evidence whatsoever that this influenced editorial decision-making.
Because if a politician, Crown official, or corporate executive held overlapping interests connected to a contentious land or governance issue, journalists themselves would normally ask whether full disclosure was appropriate - or whether someone else should report the story entirely.
Yet strangely, when the issue involved Māori political structures, Treaty negotiations, iwi influence, and urban marae whenua, those same transparency conversations appeared to vanish into thin air.
Again: perhaps coincidence. But viewers are entitled to ask the question.
The Convenient “Concerned Community” Narrative
One of the loudest critics elevated during both programmes was Raewyn Harrison, alongside figures such as Mere Roberts, who emerged publicly as central opponents of the marae leadership and direction.
Every organisation has disagreement.That is normal.
But hindsight raises an unavoidable question:
Was this genuinely a simple grassroots governance concern?
Or was Awataha Marae caught inside a much larger political struggle involving:
Treaty settlement frameworks,
Crown interests,
iwi authority,
urban Māori identity,
governance control,
and whenua?
Because once viewed through the lens of the AIP negotiations and the unresolved Wai 187 claim, many surrounding events suddenly begin looking very different:
the escalating scrutiny,
the lease pressure,
the media attacks,
the governance disputes,
the political lobbying,
and the Crown involvement.
Suddenly this stops looking like ordinary internal disagreement.
It begins looking like a collision between competing visions of Māori authority itself.
Hypocracy Manifest
Oh and lets not forget Raewyn and her merry band of misinformed protesters stood out side the Marae waving their banners around saying stuff like "Awataha Tahae" refering to Awataha being stolen by one family.
But theres an old saying "Truth is stranger than fiction"
Because what was really happening behind the scenes was Te Runanga O Ngati Whatua had cut a deal behind everyones back to use the land as a financial redress settlement. Not a cultural or Historical Redress. Te Kawerau A Maki, Ngati Manuhiri and Awataha had been cut out of negotiations..so who was stealing what from whom?
The very protestors outside the gate..were actual "out the gate"
To add insult to injury the group calling for blood about the marae not holding tangihanga obviously over looked the fact that during their protests one of our dearest Kaumatua who lived on the Marae for over 20 years passed away..and not one of them came to pay their respects at Awataha or at his home Marae where was laid to rest.
These people claiming the Marae belonged to them yet we had never seen them ever at the Marae? I mean can you say its your marae and never show up?
So apart from the absolute hypocrisy of the group...what was this all about?
One can only guess the idea was to drum up media and public outrage..to support Te Runanga O Ngati Whatua.
Tangihanga, Tikanga, and Television Experts
Of course, no modern media ambush would be complete without somebody confidently explaining Māori tikanga on national television. Both programmes revolved heavily around tangihanga and the wharenui.
Yet Awataha’s legal complaint directly challenged multiple statements made during the broadcast as misleading or lacking context. The complaint noted that tangihanga had continued to occur at Awataha Marae since its inception, including recent tangi and the tangi of the late Dr Arnold Wilson himself.
What the programme reportedly failed to properly explain was the tikanga basis surrounding the incomplete wharenui and the associated rāhui established under the guidance of Dr Arnold Wilson until completion of the carvings.
That distinction matters.
Because there is a profound difference between:“we refuse,”and“our tikanga says not yet.”
But nuanced tikanga discussions rarely compete well against dramatic music and selective editing.
So Awataha moved on. and continued holding tangi an inconvenient truth to the myth.
Meanwhile… Back in the Real World
While television crews chased controversy, Awataha Marae continued doing what it had always done:
Serving people.
The legal complaint itself outlined a remarkable range of programmes operating through the marae, including:
Mana Rangatahi,
Māori Wardens support,
PTSD rehabilitation programmes,
Te Reo initiatives,
schools programmes,
driver licensing,
youth mentoring,
noho wānanga,
cultural education,
and wider community services.
Funny how very little of that became the headline.
Because outrage attracts ratings. Community service apparently does not. Or perhaps it simply was not sexy enough to matter.
Then Came the Floods
Then came the Auckland Anniversary floods in 2023.
The moment the television narrative collided violently with reality.
While Auckland descended into chaos, Awataha Marae did what marae have always done in times of crisis: it opened its doors.
No media consultants.
No image rehabilitation campaign.
No carefully scripted press releases.
Just action.
Groceries were distributed. Hot meals were cooked.Emergency support was mobilised.Communities coordinated together. Volunteers turned up. Thousands of people received support through Awataha’s emergency response efforts. Chinese, Māori, Pasifika and wider local communities worked side by side.
That is what marae are supposed to do.
Yet somehow, during one of Auckland’s worst civil emergencies in modern history, public calls reportedly emerged from Sir Wayne Shelford - a supporter of those opposing the marae leadership - suggesting Awataha should “stand down.”
One still struggles to understand the strategic brilliance of that proposition.
“Excuse us everybody — terribly sorry about the floodwaters and displaced families, but before we hand out food parcels, we first need to resolve some political disagreements.”
History will decide whether that was poor judgment, political theatre, or complete detachment from reality.
Because while critics debated optics, Awataha Marae was carrying food through floodwaters.
And perhaps the most uncomfortable question still hanging in the air is this:
Where exactly were all the loud public critics when the very community they claimed to represent actually needed help?
Where were you when people needed boots on the ground?
People to carry boxes?
Cook meals?
Answer phones?
Load trailers?
Deliver food?
Actually do the work?
Because criticism from a distance is easy.
Showing up is harder!
A Wider Problem in Māori Media
This is not simply about one programme or one journalist.
It speaks to a wider issue within modern media culture: outrage is profitable, nuance is not.
Complex Māori political realities are often flattened into simplistic morality plays: heroes and villains, rebels and reformers,“good Māori” and “problem Māori.”
The result is journalism that increasingly rewards spectacle over truth and conflict over substance.
Ironically, many of the same institutions that speak passionately about “speaking truth to power” appear far less enthusiastic when the power in question sits inside politically connected Māori structures, Crown relationships, or influential post-settlement entities.
That silence can be deafening.
Four Years On…
Four years later, Awataha Marae is still standing.
Still serving.
Still feeding people.
Still educating rangatahi.
Still running programmes.
Still supporting tangihanga.
Still pursuing Wai 187.
Still inconvenient.
Not bad for a marae so confidently portrayed by some as dysfunctional, doomed, or incapable of surviving scrutiny.
Perhaps that is the real story the cameras never fully understood.
Because institutions built on spin rarely survive pressure.
But institutions built on community resilience and kaupapa usually do.
Even when the cameras stop rolling.
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Volunteers gather to celebrate the community effort that went into feeding over 4000 people during the Auckland Annevesrary Floods 2023
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