Orientation Before Action: The Wisdom of Matariki

While the United States recently marked the 250th anniversary of its founding, New Zealand has just celebrated something shaped by more than a thousand years of accumulated Māori wisdom.

Over the past weekend, communities across Aotearoa gathered to observe Matariki, the Māori New Year. Recognised as a national public holiday only since 2022, Matariki is nevertheless rooted in centuries of Māori knowledge and Polynesian navigation. Marked by the annual rising of the Matariki star cluster, known elsewhere as the Pleiades, it signals not simply the beginning of a new year, but a moment to pause, reflect and renew.

For readers beyond New Zealand, Matariki may appear to be simply another cultural celebration. But it is much more than that. Matariki reflects a worldview in which human wellbeing, the natural environment and future generations are perceived not as competing priorities but as parts of an interconnected whole. It is a philosophy that has shaped Māori society for generations and one that, once understood, feels remarkably relevant to many of the challenges confronting organisations, governments and communities today.

Before encouraging us to look forward, Matariki asks us first to stop. To remember those who have passed. To give thanks for what has been. To reconnect with one another and with the world around us. Only then does it invite us to consider the future. In a world that prizes momentum above almost everything else, Matariki quietly reminds us that the quality of our direction matters far more than the speed of our progress.

Looking back on my first full year back in New Zealand, that is a thought that has been reinforced for me several times.

In September last year I wrote about the quiet authority of the Māori queen Te Arikinui Kuīni Ngā Wai hono i te Pō and the way her leadership embodies values such as humility, stewardship and collective responsibility rather than personal prominence. More recently, while reviewing Kate Raworth’s ‘The Evolving Doughnut’, I was reminded that many of the principles underpinning Doughnut Economics draw upon Māori thinking, where social, ecological, spiritual and economic wellbeing are understood as inseparable rather than independent pursuits.

Those observations have prompted me to think more deeply about New Zealand itself. Having lived and worked in several countries, I have increasingly come to believe that every nation possesses a distinctive contribution to make to our understanding of leadership and society. Britain has long prized its institutions. America has often been defined by optimism, entrepreneurship and individual opportunity. New Zealand’s gift, I believe, lies elsewhere. It is an instinctive appreciation that people, communities, nature and future generations cannot be separated from one another without diminishing them all.

That perspective finds expression through concepts such as whanaungatanga (relationships), manaakitanga (care and generosity towards others), kaitiakitanga (guardianship of people and place) and kotahitanga (unity). These are not simply cultural ideals to be admired from afar. They are practical principles that shape everyday decisions. They remind us that leadership begins not with authority or ambition but with responsibility, and that before deciding what to do, we should first understand who we are, where we stand and what we exist to serve.

The more I reflect upon these ideas, the more I recognise how they must have influenced my own thinking when I conceived Single Organising Idea (SOI®) during my first term in New Zealand between 2002 and 2009. At the time I was simply looking for a way organisations could identify and define a way of aligning strategy, culture and brand management with decision-making. Looking back, however, I suspect that this wonderful country and its people influenced me more profoundly than I realised.

For centuries, Polynesian navigators crossed vast expanses of open ocean by reading the stars. The stars did not tell them every decision they needed to make, nor did they eliminate uncertainty. What they provided was orientation. They offered a constant point of reference against which every course adjustment could be made.

It strikes me that this is where Matariki offers one of its most important lessons for contemporary leadership. Modern organisations can be exceptionally good at planning. They produce strategies, targets, milestones and implementation plans with impressive sophistication. Yet many still struggle to answer a simpler question: What ultimately guides our decisions?

Strategy determines where an organisation intends to go. Purpose, on the other hand, ensures it never loses sight of why the journey matters. A Single Organising Idea does not prescribe every decision; rather, it provides the enduring point of reference against which every decision can be judged. Like the navigators of old, organisations still encounter changing conditions, unexpected obstacles and difficult choices. What matters is not that every decision is perfect, but that every decision remains oriented towards the same enduring purpose.

Increasingly, this is also the direction of travel for modern governance. The forthcoming ISO 37011 guidance on purpose-driven governance encourages organisations to create and protect value in ways that contribute to the long-term wellbeing of all people and the planet, rather than focusing solely on financial performance or shareholder returns. Likewise, Doughnut Economics challenges us to measure success not simply by economic output but by our ability to enable human flourishing within planetary boundaries. Both point towards a more integrated understanding of value and one that Māori thinking has long embraced.

Uncovering Matariki’s link to my work and my core message around the power of purpose resonated but the reason it really touched me is more poignant.

One of its most moving traditions is the remembrance of those who have died since the previous rising of the stars. Before looking towards the future, communities first acknowledge those whose lives continue to shape their own. It is a deeply human act, recognising that memory is not an obstacle to progress but part of it. This year, I found myself quietly thinking of Joanne who I miss deeply.

Matariki reminded me that remembrance, love, gratitude and hope for the future are not separate emotions. They exist together, even in loss: We remember before we renew. We reflect before we resolve and we orient ourselves before we move forward.

In business we often speak of purpose as though it were another management technique or competitive advantage. Matariki suggests something richer. Purpose is not something we invent. It is something we discover through our relationships, our responsibilities and the contribution we choose to make to the world around us. Strategy then becomes not merely a plan for achieving success but a means of honouring that purpose through consistent action.
What I have ultimately learnt is that Matariki is about orientation. It reminds us that progress without reflection is simply movement; that prosperity without stewardship is ultimately self-defeating; and that purpose is less about declaring ambitious intentions than quietly orienting our daily decisions towards something greater than ourselves.

For organisations, that may be the difference between having a strategy and possessing a genuine sense of direction. For nations, it may be the difference between economic success and collective wellbeing. For each of us, it is perhaps a reminder that the people we have loved, the values we choose to uphold and the legacy we leave behind all become part of the constellation by which others navigate.

In the end, the stars do not tell us where to go. They simply help us recognise true north when we see it.