Written By Naianga Tapiata

If you’ve ever been to any uni, you’ll know the vibe, there’s ALWAYS a policy for everything. Missed an exam? There’s a form. Late assignment, that’ll be 10% off. Now imagine that you are a Māori student and your world doesn’t just run on timetables and penalty systems, but on tikanga. Tikanga isn’t just a set of quirky cultural rules. It’s the law of our tūpuna, the inherited wisdom of generations, the thing that tells us how to live right with people, the land, and even the steam rising from the pā (in my case PARADISE and nobody can deny it). So what happens when the “Computer Says No” vibe of university policy runs smack into the mana of tikanga? Who wins?

Spoiler: nine times out of ten, the university policy comes out on top. But that doesn’t mean it’s the right winner.

Let’s back up. Tikanga in simple terms is Māori law, though calling it just “law” undersells it. It’s law, philosophy, ethics, and life coach rolled into one. It’s what tells us:

  • Don’t just grab a stone from the river without going through the right customs, because that river has whakapapa too.
  • If you’ve wronged someone, you don’t just apologise and hope they unblock you on Instagram, you restore balance.
  • When you’re on a marae, you follow the kawa, because it’s bigger than you.

Tikanga isn’t frozen in time, either. It changes with the world. If our tūpuna had iPhones, trust me, there’d be tikanga about them (“BOY don’t scroll through TikTok during whaikōrero”).

On the other hand, we’ve got university policy. Now, policy is not spiritual, ancestral, or poetic. It’s bureaucratic. It’s the grown-up version of “because I said so.” University policies exist to keep everyone safe, make sure degrees actually mean something, and stop the place from getting sued.

For example:

  • Assessment policies mean lecturers can’t just pass you because they like your vibe.
  • Ethics committees mean you can’t just go around interviewing random kids at the park for your research.
  • Disciplinary policies mean you can’t punch someone in the library during exam week (though, honestly, fair enough if someone steals your study booth).

So both systems, tikanga and policy are about rules, but they come from totally different worlds.
So when do tikanga and policy clash? Wellll more often than we think.

Discipline Processes
Tikanga: restore balance, look after mana, heal relationships.
Policy: “You plagiarised, here’s your penalty. Case closed.”

Deadlines and Whānau Obligations
Tikanga: tangihanga comes first. If someone passes, everything stops. You go, you mourn, you support.
Policy: “Sorry, extensions are only available with a medical certificate.”

So you’ve got students trying to explain to a course coordinator why they missed an exam because they were at their so and so’s tangihanga and sometimes being told: “Sorry, that doesn’t count.” That’s a clash not just of systems, but of values.You can see the clash. Tikanga is relational, policy is procedural.

So the question is who actually wins?

Let’s be honest: universities in general love their policies. They’re like a comfort blanket. If you challenge a grade, they’ll quote the regulations back at you line by line. If you try to bring tikanga into the process, often you’ll get a polite nod and then, “Sorry, that’s not covered in our handbook.”

So yes, on the surface, university regulations win. They’re backed by legislation, contracts, and the big scary thing called “compliance.”

But here’s the twist: tikanga isn’t exactly powerless. Our courts have said that tikanga is part of New Zealand’s law. In Takamore v Clarke (2012), the Supreme Court recognised tikanga as a source of legal values. In Ellis v R (2022), the court went even further and called it the “first law of Aotearoa.” That’s huge. So while your lecturer might say, “Sorry, we don’t have a tikanga policy,” Pākehā law is slowly saying: “Actually, you do.”
This isn’t just a nerdy debate for the law students. It matters because it’s about power. If universities treat tikanga as optional, they’re basically saying: “Our rules count, yours don’t.” That’s a continuation of colonisation, just with more paperwork. For Māori students and staff, that’s exhausting. Imagine constantly having to explain why karakia matters, or why consultation with hapū isn’t just a “nice-to-have.” It’s like being asked to justify breathing. But it also matters for universities themselves. They say they’re committed to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Well, Te Tiriti isn’t just about free Wi-Fi and a pōwhiri at orientation. It’s about shared authority. If unis want to be taken seriously on their Tiriti promises, they have to stop treating tikanga like a side salad and start treating it like the main course.

So what would it look like if universities stopped making tikanga and policy fight each other like gladiators?

  • Co-design policies: Instead of slapping tikanga in the footnotes, build it into the policy itself. For example, have research ethics committees that actually require iwi approval where relevant.
  • Rethink discipline: Borrow from tikanga to make discipline about restoring relationships, not just punishing individuals.
  • Ceremonies: Don’t just “allow” tikanga, structure events around it. That’s how you normalise it.
    Empower Māori governance: Give mana whenua and Māori staff real decision-making power, not just advisory roles that get ignored.

Some unis are already trying this. Others are still dragging their feet like a student at an 8am lecture. But the direction is clear: if tikanga is the first law of the land, it should shape how our institutions operate.

So, who wins when tikanga and university policy clash? Technically, policy usually wins because it’s the one with the legal backing and the scary disciplinary committees. But morally, culturally, and increasingly legally, tikanga has the upper hand.

The real challenge is getting universities to stop treating this as a competition. Because if they actually honoured Te Tiriti, tikanga wouldn’t just be fighting for space, it would be the foundation of how policy is made. Until then, the clash will continue. But here’s my hot take: if you’re betting on the long game, put your money on tikanga. It’s survived colonisation, courtrooms, and countless committee meetings. University policy? That’ll probably change again next year when someone updates the handbook.