It started, as many things do now, on a phone screen.
Short videos. Emotional kōrero. A message about healing. A promise of unity. A call to action.
For months, the online narrative appeared harmless – even hopeful. Two influencers spoke about trauma, accountability, truth-telling and “healing the nation.” Their content gathered momentum. The algorithm did its work. Followers shared, commented, amplified.
Then the tone shifted.
Allegations began to surface against other Māori leaders. Words like “receipts” were used as a demand for proof – yet little evidence was publicly provided. The language became sharper. The claims broader. The distrust deeper.
Still, thousands continued to watch.
Eventually, the online narrative stepped into the physical world. A hikoi from Wellington to Waitangi was announced. The expectation, at least online, was momentum.
At Parliament, fewer than forty people gathered.
By comparison, the Toitū Te Tiriti mobilisation had drawn tens of thousands.
As the hikoi travelled north, numbers dwindled further. A fundraising target of $100,000 reached just over $5,000. Allegations emerged at Rātana Pā of a firearm being brandished – later found not to be accurate. Claims escalated, including assertions that a major political party had placed a hit on an organiser’s life.
By the end, the hikoi had descended into confrontation. Support fractured. Questions mounted. Allegations of impropriety surfaced.
But the real story is not the collapse. The real story is how it began.
The Power of the Feed
How does an unknown content creator – with only a few thousand TikTok followers – gain enough traction to appear on mainstream media platforms?
The answer lies in the transformation of media itself.
Traditional gatekeepers are gone. The algorithm rewards emotion, certainty and conflict. Platforms amplify content that provokes reaction – whether positive or negative.
Audiences no longer need institutional backing to grant credibility. Virality is validation.
We have seen this shift globally. Content creators now attend White House briefings in the United States. Influencers are embedded in political communications units. Social media personalities are treated as legitimate commentators alongside journalists.
The ecosystem has changed.
And Aotearoa is not immune.
Why Whānau Are Listening
It would be too easy – and too dismissive – to suggest people are simply gullible.
There are deeper forces at play.
- Distrust in institutions
Many whānau feel let down by political systems, media outlets and public agencies. When trust erodes, alternative voices gain power. - Relatability
Content creators speak directly, emotionally and often vulnerably. They feel accessible. They feel real. - Algorithmic intimacy
Social media feeds are personalised. The content feels curated for the viewer. It creates a sense of connection and affirmation. - Wellbeing narratives
Healing, trauma, generational pain and cultural reconnection are powerful themes – particularly within Māori communities navigating intergenerational harm.
When someone speaks about healing, many listen – because the need is real.
The Healing Economy
In the case of Martel Wikeepa, the starting point was wellbeing and healing.
But a difficult question emerges:
Should we be taking healing advice from someone who is themselves on a personal healing journey – and not qualified in clinical, psychological or cultural therapeutic practice?
The digital age has blurred the lines between lived experience and expertise.
There is nothing wrong with sharing a journey. But when that journey becomes a platform of influence – influencing decisions, mobilising people, fundraising money, naming alleged wrongdoing – the stakes shift.
The authority may be emotional rather than professional. But it can be just as powerful.
And sometimes more persuasive.
From Online Echo Chamber to Real-World Reality
The hikoi demonstrated something else: the gap between online engagement and physical mobilisation.
Likes are not numbers on the ground.
Shares are not buses arriving.
The online audience may feel vast – but it exists inside an algorithmic bubble. Outside that bubble, reality can look very different.
When the hikoi arrived at Parliament with fewer than forty people, it revealed something critical: digital amplification does not automatically translate into collective action.
Yet by then, narratives had already hardened. Accusations had been made. Trust had been damaged.
The Risk of “Receipts” Culture
The demand for “receipts” – proof, exposure, accountability – reflects a wider digital trend.
Social media thrives on call-outs. It rewards revelation. It encourages public confrontation.
But it also bypasses due process, nuance and verification.
Allegations can circulate faster than they can be substantiated. Corrections rarely travel as far as the original claims.
For communities already navigating trauma and distrust, this dynamic can be destabilising.
Mainstream Media’s Role
Another uncomfortable question lingers:
How did a relatively unknown content creator gain mainstream media exposure?
Media organisations increasingly chase audience engagement metrics. Social media virality becomes a proxy for relevance. Booking someone who is “trending” can appear justified.
But the threshold for vetting may not always match the speed of the news cycle.
The rise of influencer-politics relationships globally shows that legacy media is recalibrating in real time – sometimes without clear guardrails.
The hikoi may have dwindled.
The fundraising may have fallen short.
The allegations may have unravelled.
But the deeper issue remains.
Why are so many of our whānau looking outside traditional leadership structures for guidance?
Why are online personalities able to tap into genuine feelings of hurt, injustice and yearning for healing?
The answer may lie less in the creators – and more in the vacuum they fill.
When communities feel unheard, alternative voices rise.
When institutions lose credibility, platforms become pulpits.
When trauma is widespread, healing narratives gain traction – even if the source is untested.
This story is not about ridicule.
It is about responsibility.
Digital platforms are not going away. Content creators will continue to rise. Some will be constructive. Some will not.
The challenge for Aotearoa – and particularly for Māori communities – is how to balance openness to new voices with critical thinking.
Healing is sacred work.
Accountability is serious work.
Mobilising people is serious work.
The digital age has lowered the barrier to entry.
But it has not lowered the consequences.
And perhaps that is the lesson in all of this.
Not how the hikoi ended.
But how easily it began.
This weekend we look at the positive aspects of content creators online
