In a world increasingly thrown into conflict, be it military, social, or cultural, how have we stopped listening to each other and instead become obsessed with being either right or wrong, for or against, standing with or standing against, condemning or supporting a cause? writes Thomas Wynne.

Is the Māori concept of time a straight line stretching from past to future, pushing forward to a political, economic, social, or even cultural version of “progress” that we can find ourselves on the wrong side of? Or is it a dynamic ebb and flow, cyclical and holistic, where the past, present, and future are interconnected in an unbroken cycle, pouring into each other, like the Moana we come from?

Because from Trump to Putin to Turkey’s Erdoğan and China’s Xi Jinping, they have also declared they were on the “right side of history.” Putin asserted, “Crimea has always been an inseparable part of Russia… we are on the right side of history.” Erdoğan mirrored this stance, arguing that “Turkey is on the right side of history as we bring peace and stability to this region.” Xi Jinping, in his address at the 19th Party Congress, affirmed, “We are on the right side of history, advancing the rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.”

Each of these leaders has used this phrase to validate their worldview and actions that, at best, were divisive, and at worst, brought death and civil war. The common thread of this weaponizing of history and subtle cloak of historical righteousness is that each time it was used, they harnessed history as their ally, casting those who disagree as standing on the wrong side of their version of progress.

Cyclical time permeates all aspects of Māori life, from the Ārapō (lunar calendar) to aka’papa (genealogy), which binds the individual in an unbroken continuum of ancestors and descendants, shaping the present and future continuously. Or, as Dr. Rangimarie Rose Pere explains, Ka Mua, Ka Muri, reflecting a wisdom that views time as an infinite series of lessons, where the past continually informs our path forward—but that does not also mean life is a straight line or linear, that we stand on either side of.

Or, as Sir Hirini Moko Mead describes in Tikanga Māori, Māori cosmology does not envision a linear path from darkness to light but rather a cycle, from Te Kore (the void) to Te Ao Mārama (the world of light), where each stage flows into the next in an eternal loop. A view Mason Durie underscored in Ngā Kāhui Pou, emphasizing that utu sustains social and cosmic balance, anchoring Māori actions in accountability that extends through time, not on either side of it.

So, does a Māori approach challenge us to see history as more than a sequence of inevitable milestones or moral victories? Rather than a train sprinting toward some end determined by my and my cohorts’ actions or choices, is it instead a Vaka on an ocean, a cycle and continuum of choices, currents of responsibilities, and waves that impact us, feeding into a greater purpose, a greater hand, and a greater will working in our lives?

So, what does it mean for us as Māori to be on the "right side of history," and are there only two sides to be on: right and wrong? Should we reconsider that this linear right-and-wrong thinking is a Western construct, and maybe it is us that needs to aka eke, or decolonise, our thinking?

And instead, see ourselves as one of many crashing waves against a torrent of waves, sometimes circular and sometimes straight, and not drawn into the temptation that we can control history. Or that we can determine its outcome based on our finite humanity. Yes, we should take a position, and yes, we should have a view, but does that then make our view singularly right?  Simply put, is history a line to stand on either side of, because, in the end, only Te Atua, or God, is on the right side of history—and maybe that’s why they call it His story and not yours or my story.