4 March 2026

When Powerful Men Decide Who Lives and Who Dies

I’m angry!
And I have a right to be!

The recent U.S. and Israel strike on Iran, which resulted in the death of Iran’s Supreme Leader, have shaken global politics and divided opinion here in Aotearoa.

But beyond political talking points, this moment forces us to ask something deeper:

Who gets to decide when war begins?
And who carries the consequences?

Power Without Whakapapa

In te ao Māori, leadership does not sit in isolation.

Rangatiratanga is not domination.
Mana is not control.
Authority comes with accountability to people, to whenua, to whakapapa.

Yet globally, military power continues to sit in very few hands, able to authorise strikes and destabilise regions with a single decision.

Where is the accountability in that?
Where is the collective responsibility?

When power is disconnected from relationship and consequence, it becomes dangerous.

Let’s Call It What It Is

Trump authorised the strike.

This escalation did not just happen.
It was a decision.

Under international law, the use of force is supposed to be limited to self-defence or authorised by the United Nations Security Council. Whether this strike meets that threshold is already being debated internationally.

That matters.

Because when military action bypasses or stretches those global guardrails, it sets a precedent.

That decision reflects a worldview that frames dominance as strength and military force as leadership.

When that worldview holds weapons, the consequences are global.

This is not neutral.
This is political ideology backed by military power.

A Familiar Pattern for Indigenous Peoples

For Indigenous communities worldwide, this pattern feels familiar.

Power concentrated at the top.
Land treated as strategic territory.
Communities forced to absorb the fallout.

Colonisation has always operated this way.

When leaders disregard treaties, environmental protections, Indigenous sovereignty, or international law, it reflects a belief that power entitles you to act first and justify later.

That logic does not stop at borders.
It shapes climate policy, resource extraction, and global stability.

Mana, Tapu, and the Taking of Life

War is often framed as strategic.
Pre-emptive. Necessary.

But in tikanga Māori, life holds tapu.

The taking of life carries spiritual and intergenerational weight.

When leaders make decisions that result in death, whether political figures or civilians, that tapu is breached.

And the weight of that breach does not stay in government chambers.

It sits in homes.
In fear.
In the cost of living.
In instability that ripples across oceans.

Militarised Masculinity

Global war-making structures are overwhelmingly male-dominated.

That is not opinion. It is statistical reality.

When political identity becomes tied to appearing tough and decisive, escalation becomes performance.

And ordinary people become collateral.

Many of us are exhausted by that model of leadership.

Aotearoa’s Position. Who Are We?

New Zealand’s response has been complicit. There are calls for diplomacy and de-escalation.

But who are we?

Are we a nation that stands firmly in international law and peaceful process?
Or do we accept escalation when powerful allies initiate it?

As tangata whenua, and as a country shaped by Te Tiriti o Waitangi, we understand what happens when power is imposed without consent.

That memory should inform how we respond to global aggression.

Wāhine and the Consequences of War

War is authorised at the top.
It is absorbed at the bottom.

The aftermath is often carried by wāhine, holding whānau together, stretching budgets, maintaining stability when systems shake.

But the reality runs deeper than that.

Across conflicts worldwide, women and girls are disproportionately exposed to displacement, exploitation, and sexual violence. Their bodies too often become battlegrounds when war breaks down law, protection, and humanity.

And when the fighting stops, it is often wāhine who remain, caring for the injured, raising children through trauma, and rebuilding communities from what conflict leaves behind.

Wāhine perspectives remind us that protection is strength.
That collective wellbeing is security.
That peace-building is not weakness.

This Isn’t About Supporting Regimes

This is not about defending Iran’s leadership.

Iran’s government has long been criticised for repression, human rights abuses, and limiting freedoms for its own people. For some, the removal of powerful figures within that system is seen as a form of liberation.

That perspective exists, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

But even when a regime is deeply contested, the question of how change happens still matters. Military escalation, external intervention, and decisions made by powerful foreign leaders carry consequences that ripple far beyond the moment.

That is the tension the world is now sitting in.

He Pātai

How many times are we expected to watch powerful leaders gamble with lives and call it strategy?

How many times are we expected to absorb the economic shock, the instability, the fear, and simply move on?

This is not inevitable.
This is chosen.

War is authorised by people.
Escalation is authorised by people.

And people can be challenged.

We do not have to normalise militarised decision-making as the cost of living in this world.

We can demand better.

I’m Still Angry

But my anger is not reckless.

It is rooted in whakapapa.
In the belief that leadership should protect life, not gamble with it.
In the conviction that concentrated militarised power should never go unquestioned.

We deserve a world where leadership looks like responsibility, not retaliation.

And we deserve to say that out loud.

 

Written by Jaeda Albert
Hine! E Hine

The views expressed here are my own and do not reflect the official positions of any organisation or group I am affiliated with.