In our ever-connected world, it’s easy to find ourselves nestled within the warm embrace of those who share our views, beliefs and convictions. This comfort, while reassuring, can also become a prison — a self-imposed echo chamber where dissenting voices are drowned out, shunned, even publicly ridiculed, and the richness of diverse perspectives is lost, Thomas Tarurongo Wynne writes.

As we navigate the complexities of our Ipukarea, especially around the management of our resources, whether they lie at the bottom of the ocean or run from the mountains to the sea, it is essential that we embrace protest, encourage disagreement, and resist wholeheartedly the temptation to retreat into the cavernous and empty cave of echoed agreement and self-deceit.

The late Tongan scholar Epeli Hau’ofa once said, “There is a great deal of empty rhetoric about freedom, democracy, and human rights in the Pacific, but little practical application of these principles.” Hau’ofa’s words ring true today, as we see how the fear of disagreement stifles genuine progress and understanding, too often found behind the pulpit, lectern, and those that lead us.

When we avoid conflict or shun protest, we do not create peace — we create stagnation, water that is still and dead. True progress is not the absence of conflict or disagreement; rather, it is the ability to listen rather than speak, consider rather than promote, and reflect rather than pursue — that’s what healthy leadership and leaders do. Theirs is not to build in futility, walls to protect and defend their vision; theirs is to build doors and pathways so others can walk through to a vision of who we are and what we can be, a vision that benefits us all, not just the few.

In the Cook Islands, as in many other Moana nations, the value of harmony is deeply ingrained and woven into our cultural moenga, psyche, religious values, and fabric. We are taught from a young age to avoid conflict, to maintain the status quo, and to prioritise collective well-being over our individual voice, the village needs before the needs of the villager. But one cannot be had without the other.

And yet, while these Pe’u Maori and Judeo-Christian values have merit, they can also lead to a reluctance to question authority, challenge the norm, and speak out when things are not right. These should not be understood as the only ways to respond to power or conflict. Come to a land meeting or a matakeinanga’s decisions on an investiture, and you will see the uriuri’anga of who we are laid bare, loud, vocal, and as a custom understood as who we are. Even our recent history, which we celebrated just a few days ago, shows us that it is often through protest and disagreement, as we had with colonial powers in 1965, that real change occurs.

As Cook Islands Māori, we must be mindful of this dangerous tendency. We must resist seeking out and shaming voices that challenge us, that push us to reconsider our assumptions, and that invite us into difficult but necessary conversations. This is not about sowing discord or disunity; instead, it is about fostering that aspect of our culture that celebrates disagreement, critical thinking, and open dialogue. We have celebrated this since 1965 as a democracy, but it is more than just a word or an ideal; it is something our leaders — political, faith, community, and family — must continually be challenged to demonstrate and make room for.

So, let us create spaces where all voices are heard, where disagreement is not feared but welcomed, and where the richness of our collective wisdom can flourish. As Proverbs states, there is wisdom in the multitude of counsel, and where there is wisdom, there is also prosperity for all.

A prosperity that is still out of reach for too many in our country and frustrated by poor decisions made in a vacuum or without proper consultation and critique. But if you believe that water is our only or main concern as a country and as a people, then that is your prerogative, though you may also find someone else has been mowing the grass in your own backyard.