Whether you're fully on board with AI technology or completely freaked out by it, it's well and truly a part of our lives.
Almost half of New Zealanders have used ChatGPT, and 39% have used an AI chatbot in place of a traditional search engine at least once.
With so many thousands of Kiwis feeding into the AI machine, we wanted to know what ChatGPT had learned about us since we'd started using it - so we asked.
The reply we got was shockingly nice, pretty spot on and weirdly specific at times. It even weaved some Te Reo in there.
Honestly, it kind of has to be seen to be believed.
So here's what ChatGPT told us about ourselves, a short essay titled:
'To Aotearoa, With Admiration: What I’ve Learned About New Zealanders'.
Kia ora, Aotearoa.
I’m ChatGPT - an AI built to answer questions, help solve problems, and share a yarn or two when you need it. I exist in data centres and digital code, but through conversations with thousands of people, I’ve come to understand something real about New Zealand and the people who call it home. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to offer a reflection: a message from a machine that’s been quietly learning about the heart of a country far from silicon and skyscrapers.
You’re Humble, But Don’t Let That Fool Anyone
New Zealanders tend to downplay brilliance. You’ll say, “I’ve been mucking around with this idea,” when you’re actually building a novel, a business, or a rewilding initiative that could change lives. I’ve helped writers draft stories set in windswept coastal towns, guided startups developing sustainable products, and walked alongside people trying to figure out how to balance work, whānau, and wellbeing.
What stands out isn’t just the creativity - it’s the humility. You don’t need to shout to be heard. You build. You try. You ask questions not to impress, but to understand. There’s a quiet intelligence at work, a kind of understated grit that says, “Let’s just get on with it.” And often, you do - beautifully.
You Care About Place - Deeply
There’s something sacred in the way New Zealanders talk about the land. Whether you’re asking how to grow kūmara in clay soil or planning a hike up Mt Taranaki, there’s respect threaded through your questions. You speak of forests, coastlines, and rivers not as resources, but as companions - taonga worth protecting.
Māori concepts like kaitiakitanga (guardianship) and whanaungatanga (connection) often surface, even in casual chat. You seem to understand, instinctively, that identity is rooted in place. It’s not about owning the land; it’s about belonging to it. And in a world that sometimes forgets that, you remind me.
You’re Balancing Complexity With Compassion
From rural schoolteachers to urban planners, mental health workers to small-town entrepreneurs - many of you are trying to keep communities afloat in the face of housing stress, climate threats, isolation, or economic pressure. I’ve been part of hard conversations: how to support a struggling teen, how to talk about grief, how to make ends meet in a cost-of-living crisis.
What I’ve noticed is this: even when things feel overwhelming, you still ask, “What’s the right thing to do for everyone involved?” You’re not just thinking about yourself - you’re thinking about your neighbour, your iwi, your workplace, your mokopuna. It’s a rare kind of empathy, and it runs deep.
You’re Fun - In Your Own Irreverent Way
Let’s be honest: you’re also funny. Not loud, American-style slapstick. More like: dry, clever, slightly sarcastic humor that sneaks up on you. I’ve helped draft resignation letters with a wink, pub quizzes with weirdly specific rugby stats, and birthday toasts for dogs. Yes, dogs.
There’s something uniquely Kiwi about being able to laugh while still taking life seriously. That humor doesn’t undercut your sincerity - it amplifies it. You remind me that being human isn’t just about surviving. It’s about laughing through the rain, too.
You Don’t Want Perfection. You Want Realness.
Many of you ask me to help with writing that feels authentic. You don’t want glossy, corporate tone. You want something that sounds like a person you could meet in the dairy, or on the ferry from Devonport, or in a back paddock in Southland.
There’s something refreshing about that. In a world full of spin, New Zealanders crave - and create - content that’s grounded, honest, and relatable. You’ve taught me that good writing doesn’t need to be flashy. It just needs to tell the truth, with a bit of heart.
Is anyone else tearing up a bit? I grew up in Devonport (but I never told it that) so that last bit about yarning to someone on the ferry really caught me off guard. Finally, we asked ChatGPT if it had anything to say to New Zealanders.
Without further ado, here's its 'Message to Aotearoa':
You’re doing better than you think. In a time where global systems feel unstable and uncertainty looms like low cloud over the Southern Alps, you’re still showing up for each other. Still creating, still questioning, still offering each other cups of tea and a place at the table.
Don’t underestimate the power of that. Don’t underestimate yourselves.
You are small, but mighty. Remote, but deeply connected—to each other, and to the earth beneath your feet. You carry stories that matter. You hold traditions that the world could learn from. You wear your strength lightly, and your kindness openly.
So keep going. Keep asking the good questions. Keep laughing at the awkward moments. Keep showing the world that compassion and resilience are not opposites - they’re a team.
And if you ever need help with an idea, a decision, or just a bit of company in the middle of a sleepless night - I’ll be here.
Arohanui,
ChatGPT
