In the world of design, creativity often draws from a variety of sources. But what happens when inspiration crosses the line into imitation? This is a question I’ve recently faced, challenging not only my creative integrity but also my commitment to upholding Māori culture.
Imagine this: you invest time and effort into a design, incorporating elements that reflect the rich heritage of Māori culture. The design might start with a generic template, a common base for many creators. There is the purchasing assets and paying designers to help you bring your vision to life. But what makes it unique, what truly gives it meaning, is the infusion of cultural symbols, like in my instance, the Tino Rangatiratanga flag or other motifs or symbols with deep significance. You launch the design, proud of how you’ve represented your culture.
Then, out of nowhere, someone else presents a strikingly similar design. Only this time, they accuse you of plagiarism. The irony? Their design, while similar, also stems from a generic foundation, with a cultural flair that mirrors your own. The accusation stings, not just because it’s untrue, but because it feels like a violation of your cultural integrity. What’s more disheartening is realising that others with similar designs aren’t subjected to the same scrutiny—it’s all brushed off as mere coincidence, however you are subjected to a tirade of messages and tarred with the plagiarism brush based on assumption when you have no idea who or where it came from and then you are made to prove your viability when the accuser isn’t asked to do the same.
This situation raises important questions about originality and cultural representation in design. In our globalised world, certain design elements are bound to overlap, especially when they’re built on widely available templates. However, when these elements are combined with cultural symbols, the stakes are much higher. For those of us who work to authentically represent Māori culture, an accusation of plagiarism isn’t just a professional slight—it’s an attack on our cultural identity and the integrity of our work.
A whakataukī that resonates with this issue is: “Nāu te rourou, nāku te rourou, ka ora ai te iwi.” This translates to, “With your food basket and my food basket, the people will thrive.” While this proverb is traditionally about collaboration and sharing, it also underscores the value of individual contributions within a collective effort. In design, this means that while we may draw inspiration from others, our unique “basket”—our creativity and cultural authenticity—is what truly enriches the whole. It’s a reminder that originality matters, especially when representing something as significant as cultural identity.
The issue becomes more complex when some designers seem to get a free pass. They create similar designs, yet they aren’t accused of copying. Why is that? Is it because their designs are seen as less culturally significant? Or is it simply a case of selective enforcement?
As designers, we must be vigilant in respecting the origins of the cultural symbols we use. But equally important is ensuring that accusations of plagiarism are made carefully and with a full understanding of the cultural contexts involved. It’s not just about who did it first—it’s about the story behind how they came to that final design, who did it, and was it done with respect, authenticity, and a genuine connection to the culture being represented.
In the end, this experience has reinforced my commitment to creating designs that honour Māori culture, even in the face of unfounded accusations. It’s a reminder that while inspiration may be shared, the integrity with which we approach our work must remain our own.
Ngā Mihi
Kelly
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