LAWFUL VS LEGAL

The New Zealand government’s claim to power and authority over whanau hapu and iwi is based on a legal system that European colonisers brought with them and have tried ever since to impose on us.  This might arguably be legal, but it is definitely not lawful. 

For example, a ‘lawful’ marriage can be performed under tikanga Maori. But the government insists we must also have a marriage license compliant with its Marriage Act before it will recognise our marriages as ‘legal’. 

In this example, ‘lawful’ speaks of our freedom to be married, while ‘legal’ speaks of our being bound to be married under the government’s law.  

Without our free, prior and informed consent to be so bound, such a law is, in itself, not lawful. 

But the most disturbing aspect of lawmaking in this country is the fact that none of the so-called laws coming out of parliament are based on a constitutional commitment to uphold and protect our sovereign rights. In fact, it is quite the opposite.  

Witness the ongoing attempts by government to steal our taku taimoana and deny hapu sovereignty.  More critically, witness their attempts to take New Zealand into the secretive TPPA, which is nothing less than a cession of the entire country’s sovereignty masquerading as a free-trade deal.  Tena te mahi kino o nga taurekareka tuturu.

This constitutional void further calls into question, not only the lawfulness of government claims to sovereign power and authority in New Zealand, but also the righteousness of the laws made by that government.

For decades, resistance to the government’s unlawful claims of sovereignty over us has largely been led by relatively powerless individuals, whanau and hapu.  But Chris Finlayson’s recent attempt to rewrite Te Ture Whenua Māori (Māori Land) Act had the unintended consequence of broadening the resistance base when hui held around the country to discuss Te Ture Whenua Maori instead produced a number of resolutions that upheld Maori sovereignty.  And last month those resolutions were given the powerful backing of every iwi in the country.

Fundamental to that iwi backing is the principle of international law which defines how one people may lawfully acquire sovereignty over another people. 

Simply put, even a brief look at international law confirms that, because we never ceded our sovereignty and were not militarily conquered, our hapu and iwi remain sovereign entities.  It also confirms that we can still lawfully enact and live under our own tikanga, and we cannot be legally bound by governments to do otherwise. 

However, the racism and greed for power that underpins government lawmaking in New Zealand are not yet spent forces.  But, even if they do remain a permanent stain on the social fabric, the tikanga and aroha underpinning our responses to them are also not spent forces.  

Witness our ongoing activism on every front.  More critically, witness the work of our ahi kaa roa to keep and care for our whenua, our whanau and our manuhiri.  Tena te mahi o nga rangatira tuturu.

Although we still have a long way to go, we have already come far in our journey towards a genuinely post-colonial era.  Part of that journey is the development of rules that we all can live with; a written constitution based on a genuine commitment to protect and uphold our sovereign rights and responsibilities. 

Since 2010 the Constitutional Iwi Leadership Group have been doing exactly that.  After more than 200 hui over several years in marae and meeting places mai Te Hapua i te raki ki Waihopai i te tonga, they will soon complete their report.  

Included will be the draft of a constitution for Aotearoa based on He Wakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tireni, Te Tiriti o Waitangi, and tikanga.  

Over the next twelve months, the report and draft constitution will be taken back to the whanau hapu and iwi.  There won’t be as many hui as there were between 2010 and 2013, and the process may not take as long.  But at the end of it, the draft constitution should accurately reflect te korero me te whakaaro o tatou katoa.

Knowing that the laws coming out of te whare miere are not lawful is important to our post-colonial future.  But knowing that real power and authority are granted by the Gods is even more important. Because ultimately, no constitutional system of laws, including tikanga, can be lawful or enduring if it is contrary to their will.

For now, our task is to bridge the gap between the current constitutional void which does not uphold or protect our individual and collective sovereignty; and to do so in a way that is lawful rather than merely legal.

LIFE AFTER PARLIAMENTALISM

“Hi!  My name is Anahera and I am a Parliamentaholic.  I took my first vote on Saturday the 29^th November 1975, and my last on Friday 19^th September 2014.  I’m just three days into recovery, and already, I love my new life!”

I’m only half-joking whanau, engari if a Parliamentaholic were defined as a person who has a physical allergy to doing politics under the Parliamentary system, coupled with a mental obsession to keep trying anyway, well that was me.  And maybe that was most of us who believed we could get or keep an independent Maori voice into the New Zealand Parliament.

At the risk of labouring the point, all of us in the at-risk demographic must be very clear on one particular point; an independent Maori voice is not welcome in the New Zealand Parliament. 

If we hadn’t already got that message from the experiences of Matiu Rata throughout the 1980s and 90s, then we surely should have gotten it from the experiences of Hone Harawira between 2005 and 2014.  But just in case we haven’t, we need only consider the message from the media, many of whom were shamelessly ecstatic on Saturday night that independent-minded Maori might no longer have anyone in Parliament to represent our views. 

But for us Parliamentaholics, it’s not enough to hear the message; we have to reach our personal rock bottom before we actually get it.  Then, and only then, might we be ready to take the first step towards recovery by admitting that we are powerless over Parliament, and that our lives have become unmanageable as a result. 

I’m still only half-joking, whanau.  Engari there’s a simple test I’ve devised.  To check if you suffer from the addiction I shall call Parliamentalism, ask yourself these three simple questions:  “Did you wake up the morning after your last vote feeling sick and tired?”  “Do you often feel restless, irritable and discontented about your voting?”  “In spite of knowing it can’t be done, do you still plan on voting in the future to get or keep an independent Maori voice into Parliament?” 

If you have answered yes to two or more of those questions, then you are likely a Parliamentaholic who is living your life in a way that is going to become unmanageable in the medium to long-term, assuming it hasn’t already done so.

On a totally serious note, the 2014 election result has finally convinced me to direct my energies elsewhere and into other things.  It has also clearly demonstrated that most voters are fearful of Maori independence, and that most political parties will never share power with us.

In fact if we ever do start having any significant influence in Parliament, they will simply abolish the Māori seats and forbid Māori caucuses to exist.    

Although there is nothing constructive in Parliament for independent Maori, I honour all who have tried and failed, or succeeded, to get in and to stay in.  I just choose not to be amongst that number any more.

Kia koe e Hone, ko koe he rangatira tuturu.  If you do get back in, ka pai tena.  But whatever happens e hoa, I am here to tell you that there is a great life to be had after Parliamentalism.

A TALE OF TWO ELECTIONS

As it draws to an end I’ve been thinking about how a 20 year look back on Election 2014 might read to whānau hapū and iwi in 2034. And now that Kim Dotcom's Moment of Truth event has ended, I’ve written two possible retrospectives.

Both are pitched from the point of view of our uri who will be voting in 2034. But each has different endings, and only one holds any hope for our collective good.

RETROSPECTIVE 1:  As Election 2034 begins, we take a look back at Election 2014 and what has happened since then to politics, journalism and voting in New Zealand.  

In researching this retrospective, we found that today’s under-30s can hardly believe a New Zealand Prime Minister and Cabinet once used this country's external spy agency to conduct mass surveillance on its own citizens, and used tax paid parliamentary staff and budgets to advance their own personal interests and settle private scores. 

They also find it incredible that news outlets were once allowed to be politically partisan, and that journalists and reporters were permitted to imitate and ‘repeat’ rather than investigate and report.

Most notable tor today's under-30s is that in 2014 the majority of their parents and grandparents didn’t care about any of that and voted the sitting government back in, in spite of numerous corruption allegations against it.

Finally we found the above patterns of behaviour contributed to the findings of the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Political Corruption; and it was the enactment of those findings which established the written constitutional framework and anti-political corruption measures we all now take for granted. 

Central to this remarkable political turnaround was the steadfast persistence in 2014 of authors and reporters like Nicky Hager and Glenn Greenwald on the Dirty Politics story line.  In the end this retrospective could not have been written without them.

RETROSPECTIVE 2:  As Election 2034 begins, we take a look back at Election 2014 and what has happened since then to politics, journalism and voting in New Zealand. 

In researching this retrospective, we found government Ministerial performance has vastly improved now that the Prime Minister and his Cabinet are able to legitimately protect themselves against mischievous allegations of corruption by invoking the ‘my office is me / not me’ defence under the Organised Crime and Anti-Corruption Act.

We also found that news outlets remain fiercely protective of their hard won right to be politically partisan, and of their journalists’ and reporters’ right to ‘repeat’ rather than report.

Most notably we found that most New Zealanders now happily and openly admit they don’t care about dirty politics, and it doesn’t affect how they vote.

Finally we found the above patterns of behaviour contributed to the findings of the Commission of Inquiry into Political Corruption that there was no political corruption in this country; and it was those findings that led to the perpetual enshrinement in law of our non-written constitutional framework.

Central to this remarkable political stability has been the staunch dismissal by mainstream media since 2014 of all stories about dirty politics.   In the end this retrospective could not have been written without them.

TODAY'S CHOICE:   Bob Marley had it right whanau; me pōti tātou kia panga atu ngā tāngata porohewa roirirori.    

ALIVE AND AWAKE

Online, on the streets, in schools and shops, and at sports, Māori (especially our rangatahi) are alive and awake to the possibilities and power of our votes in this year’s general election.  Ko te mea pai ki te kite.  They are so on to it these younger generations.  How could they not be? 

As I read their internet korero it’s like reading the minutes of hui held in Pawarenga, Te Kao, Whatuwhiwhi, Ngātaki and other kainga during the early decades of last century, and sensing how very on to it our tūpuna were as well.  

What’s more, as I listen to the spirited korero of Maori today, I recall how our tūpuna would come together and spark korero about issues of their day; especially on Sundays after church had ended and us kids had come back from the shelter shed where we’d gone to hakapati ice-cream and lollies from our mates who had money.

In my mind’s eye I can still see Paraihe Pirini springing on his feet, flicking his tokotoko and korero kokirikiri – quick, quick – (he was such a compelling speaker) while his brother Pio (quieter but just as deep thinking), and others like Hii Mano, Piri Ratana, all the Rudolph brothers, Baldy Waipouri, Wiko Arama, the Atama brothers, Sid Welsh and the likes would come in softer but just as strong.

And then there were the wahine! Ko te mea pai hoki.  It was beautiful to see and hear them stitching and mending the fabric of our hapu, all with an eye to the good of even the ones not yet born.  And that was just on Sundays.  During the week they’d move from house to house, farm to farm, doing what needed to be done.  Rangatira tūturu rātou katoa.

Throughout the last century and on into this one, in spite of the pressures of urbanisation, assimilation, fragmentation and decimation foisted on us by pignorant racists and their allies, the wairua and embodiment of rangatiratanga gave oomph to our grandparents’ and parents’ generations, and then our own.  Now we see it springing anew in our uri.

This year will be the 14^th time I’ve taken part in voting for a new government, and I’ve never seen so much interest in an election since 1984 when 93.7% of eligible voters turned out.  That remains the highest voter turnout on record for New Zealand.  Since then the number has trended down, until the last election in 2011 saw a mere 74.21% voter turnout. 

But the good news is that in this election, since advance voting opened on 3^rd September, the voter turnout is up by well over 100% on that in 2011.  

Who we vote for is nobody's business but our own (oh and maybe our tamariki / mokopuna we take into the voting booth with us so they can get the thrill of ticking our paper for us). But being uninterested and disengaged is really not an option for any Māori who is alive and awake.

A LITANY OF LEAKS

The 1982 Split Enz’ song, ‘Six Months in a Leaky Boat’, sounds like it was written as a celebration of the European colonisers’ pioneering spirit.  And to a degree that is right.  But it was also written as a metaphor for lead singer Tim Finn's nervous breakdown. 

During the 2014 general election, with the change of just one word, it was also an apt metaphor for the jaw-dropping ethical breakdown behind the National government’s shonky overview of key political portfolios and systems in this country. 

Initially, after the release of Nicky Hager’s book ‘Dirty Politics’, which revealed a previously secret series of emails between right-wing attack bloggers and right-wing Beehive insiders, the public's focus was on the security and intelligence system, for which John Key was the overseeing Minister.  Next to come under scrutiny was the justice portfolio under Minister Judith Collins.

Although in the book it was Collins who was shown to be the plug-in plug-out point for how attack politics had poisoned New Zealand’s political environment, it was Key who was shown to have been the biggest benefactor of that poison.  That fact was confirmed by his first response to the book.

Without having read it, he called Hager a ‘screaming left wing conspiracy theorist’ and labelled the book as nothing more than a selective compilation of illegally hacked and leaked emails from an unknown source, which he said Hager had strung together with lies and supposition in order to show National in the worst light possible. 

Hager’s politics remain unknown ot this day, but in 2014 he was an internationally renowned and respected investigative journalist who has already shown his willingness to expose the shady dealings of any government; for example his 2002 ‘Seeds of Distrust’ earned him Helen Clark’s undying enmity. 

In any event, to prove his points about Hager and the book, all Key had to do was release all the emails between Beehive insiders and the attack bloggers that showed National in a positive light.  But he didn't do that. Instead, whenever a microphone came near him, he just chanted a litany of lines that pretty much boiled down to “The New Zealand public aren’t interested in dirty politics.  Nothing to see here.  Move on.”  To his credit, Radio New Zealand’s Guyon Espiner was one of the few MSM journalists not to have let Key get away with that.

But what completely undermined Key were two stubbornly irrefutable facts.  

First, the leaker released into the public domain not only all the emails behind Dirty Politics, but thousands of others which were not used in the book.  And second, contrary to Key's line, a large section of the public were intensely interested in reading, digesting and understanding the dirty politics exposed by both the book and the emails.

The impact was domino-like.  Within a week, Judith Collins resigned as the result of another email leak - not from the original leaker but from one of the attack bloggers.  The email showed that Collins was gunning for the Director of the SFO at the time, who happened to be investigating her richlist chums in Hanover Finance.  It also showed that Collins and her chums were interested in taking down the FMA for the same reason.

Apparently the blogger thought that his email was about to be leaked anyway by Nicky Hager's source and wanted to give Key a headsup that more grief was coming his way.  Key then released the email and used it as his excuse to finally dump Collins and make it look like it had nothing to do with Hager's book.  

Ironically, it turned out that the email wasn't one that Hager's source had anyway.  But its release by John Key meant the public's focus then widened to also include the finance system and its regulatory bodies the Serious Fraud Office and the Financial Markets Authority.  

Of course the finance portfolio was supposed to have been under the oversight of then Finance Minister, Bill English.  But it seemed that Collins and her crew had done a better job of watching it then he had 

To paraphrase Split Enz, ‘Ship-wrecked love can be cruel.  Oh come on, don’t be fooled.  We just spent six years in a leaky boat.  Lucky just to keep afloat.’ 

There was more to follow as other portfolios and systems washed up in the 2014 litany of leaks.