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In 2010, the Electoral (Disqualification of Sentenced Prisoners) Amendment Bill marked a significant change in prisoner voting rights policies in New Zealand, disenfranchising all prisoners regardless of sentence length. A decade later in 2020, the Electoral (Registration of Sentenced Prisoners) Amendment Bill re-enfranchised prisoners serving sentences of less than three years. Over this time, a Waitangi Tribunal Inquiry and a number of Māori politicians and public figures highlighted the disproportionate effects of prisoner disenfranchisement for Māori given over-representation of Māori in the prison population. However, less attention has focused on the specific effects of disenfranchisement for wāhine Māori (Māori women) in prison, and what this reflects about the relationship between wāhine Māori and the state. While women make up a significantly smaller percentage of the general prison population than men, wāhine Māori made up 61% of the women’s prison population in 2021 (Office of the Inspectorate, 2021). Additionally, wāhine Māori had a drastically different experience of colonisation to tāne Māori (Māori men). Colonial actions worked to destroy traditional Māori social organisation, which disrupted the balance between men and women and confined wāhine Māori to a social position that falls behind Pākehā men and women and Māori men. This thesis takes a Māori-centred, Mana Wahine lens to draw on the content of interviews with key informants and analysis of parliamentary readings of the 2010 and 2020 bills in order to explore how prisoner disenfranchisement in the 21st century reflects broader patterns regarding the treatment of wāhine Māori by the state. Disenfranchisement is likely to uniquely affect wāhine Māori due to their importance in te ao Māori as nurturers, the managers of households, and their centrality to the intergenerational transfer of knowledge. This not only presents barriers to voting and re-enrolment on the electoral roll post-release from prison, but also serves to practically disenfranchise the whānau and communities that wāhine Māori belong to. The lack of consideration of the needs and experiences of wāhine Māori in state discussions of prisoner voting rights mirrors the ongoing invisibility of wāhine Māori in state policy. The state has framed prisoner voting rights around male and tāne Māori norms, which cannot account for wāhine Māori. Moving forward, if prisoner voting rights policies are revisited in the future, an intersectional approach must be taken that effectively addresses the needs of wāhine Māori.

This article considers research conducted on the impact of the Crown’s treaty claims settlement policy on Māori in New Zealand. It provides a brief background to the Treaty of Waitangi and the subsequent British colonisation process that relied on the Doctrine of Discovery in breach of the treaty. It outlines how colonisation dispossessed Māori of 95 percent of their lands and resources, usurped Māori power and authority and left them in a state of poverty, deprivation and marginalisation while procuring considerable wealth, prosperity and privilege for British settlers. The work of the Waitangi Tribunal, the commission of inquiry set up to investigate those breaches, is considered, as is the Crown’s reaction to the 1987 Lands case in developing its treaty claims settlement policy. The Crown unilaterally imposed the policy despite vehement opposition from Māori. Since 1992, it has legislated more than seventy ‘settlements’. The research shows that overall, the process has traumatised claimants, divided their communities, and returned on average less than one percent of their stolen lands. Proposals for constitutional transformation have drawn widespread support from Māori as a solution to British colonisation. United Nations treaty-monitoring bodies have recommended that the government discuss this with Māori

Between 1991 and 1994, Minister in Charge of Treaty of Waitangi Negotiations Douglas Graham and the recently established Treaty of Waitangi Policy Unit developed a series of policy proposals that outlined an ambitious plan to settle Māori historical treaty claims. These papers were refined via extensive consultation and discussion with Cabinet Ministers and government officials: Māori as treaty partner were not consulted. In late 1994 the proposed policy was approved by Cabinet and published as Crown Proposals for the Settlement of Treaty of Waitangi Claims. Why did the Crown decide to settle Māori historical treaty claims in the early 1990s? What did it expect to gain from settling treaty claims? Why, after nearly a century and a half of relative complacency, and nearly two decades after the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal to hear and make recommendations on Māori grievances, was the Crown suddenly prompted into action? And why would a right wing National government with little support from Māori voters and few current or previous Māori MPs launch a treaty claims settlement policy that would greatly antagonize its traditional voting base? These questions will be addressed via an examination of Cabinet papers, policy documents, legislation, deeds of settlement, published accounts and interviews with some of the key players. It will be argued that the treaty claims settlement policy was initiated as a consequence of New Zealand Māori Council v Attorney-General 1987, popularly known as the Lands case, and developed to achieve three specific outcomes: diversion of claimants away from the Waitangi Tribunal, containment of the financial risks posed by the Tribunal’s newly found binding and resumptive powers, and a progressive ‘winding back’ of Māori rights and Crown obligations embedded in legislation.

This article outlines the fraudulent practices of settler traders and land agents who employed alcohol to facilitate the alienation of Maori lands, highlighting the close relationship between Maori, liquor and land loss in 19th century New Zealand. Traders and agents developed a range of strategies, forged in Britain, tempered by colonial experience and wielded with deft precision in New Zealand to defraud Maori of their lands. Government efforts to pre-empt and prevent the worst excesses of settler crime proved ineffectual, self-defeating, paternalistic and ultimately unenforceable. Maori came to regard settler practices, the successive failure of legislation to alleviate the problem, and state connections with the liquor industry to be part of a thinly veiled conspiracy to destabilize their communities and alienate their lands. While this conclusion is highly problematic, it is likely that traders and agents had witnessed or were aware of similar practices in the settler colonies of Australia, Canada and North America, and made good use of them in New Zealand to access Maori lands.

Land and natural resources are at the core of conflicts between Indigenous peoples and Settlers in settler-colonial nations. This article explores the coloniality of natural resource law in the context of the New Zealand Crown Minerals Act 1991 (CMA) Block Offer process; the annual tender process for mineral prospecting and exploration. While there is often strong Māori participation, we will argue that Aotearoa New Zealand settler-colonial mining law is structured in such a way that Māori views rarely influence the substantive outcomes of mineral exploration decisions. Through a case study of the 2013 Epithermal Gold Block Offer in the Central North Island, we will explore the factors that might contribute to the mismatch between the level of Māori participation and the influence of Māori views on final decisions in the Block Offer process. We examine how different views are valued by bureaucrats within New Zealand Petroleum and Minerals, a government agency within the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment, and explore whether the criteria applied to Māori submissions genuinely and appropriately reflect the full range of interests, aspirations and concerns raised by Māori participants. In particular, we consider how mining regulation is structured to exclude Māori law and jurisdiction in order to uphold settler-colonial authority over key natural resources and extractivist economies. Finally, we consider alternatives to the CMA process and explore the potential to ensure substantive outcomes that better reflect the Māori views and interests. In doing so we point to the need to shift from colonial extractivist models of natural resources law towards Settler-Indigenous partnerships in relation to environmental planning in settler-colonial states.

In December 2002 a new Local Government Act was passed into statute. Much of the literature, submissions, articles and commentaries leading up to the passing of the Act indicated that a new Act had to clarify the relationships and obligations between local government, the Crown, Maori and the Treaty of Waitangi. In this paper I argue that the new Act has not adequately clarified these relationships and obligations, and that there are particular reasons and consequences arising from this situation. The reasons surround denials from local government that they are the Crown and central government's vested interest in allowing slippage to continue. If we examine the example of the General Agreement on Trade in Services we can see that a failure to clarify the relationships may have detrimental consequences for Maori to protect their rights.

The Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004 caused many New Zealanders grave concern. In this article I suggest that a number of the Government's actions since the passing of the Foreshore and Seabed Act bring into question several of its central claims for legislating and the subsequent overriding of Tiriti o Waitangi and human rights laws. As a result, I argue that the inadequacy in our constitutional arrangements requires a change of approach—a new game plan: constitutional change. The second part of the article examines the work of the Maori Party. Its actions in encouraging an increasing level of Maori politicisation away from expression outside the State and towards the electoral process, arising out of opposition to the Foreshore and Seabed Act, constitute another changing of game plans. The article concludes by emphasising how the Foreshore and Seabed Act has encouraged us to take a longer term vision in order to foster more positive relations, a vision that encompasses the need for genuine constitutional change based on respect for human rights and Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

The election of Evo Morales as the first indigenous President of Bolivia in 2005 is widely credited to the Cochamba Water War (Spronk 2007: 8). The Cochamba Water War progressed from an indigenous movement and a specific issue to the creation of an indigenous political party and election of the first indigenous President. The Bolivian water war, the Puebla Panama Plan in Mexico, the Mackenzie Valley pipeline in Canada (Altamirano‐Jiménez 2004) and Māori resistance to the neoliberal agenda from 1984 onwards (Bargh 2007: 26) inspired much theorising about indigenous people successfully contesting neoliberalism (AltamiranoJiménez 2004, Bargh 2007, Spronk 2007: 8, Postero 2007). Bargh and others, for example, documented not only ‘overt Māori resistance to neoliberal policies, but also more subtle stories of activities, which The neoliberal state, recognition and indigenous rights implicitly challenge neoliberal practices and assumptions by their support for other ways of living’ (Bargh 2007: 1). Scholars make visible the persistence of the colonial in the concrete and material conditions of everyday neoliberal governance and life (Howard-Wagner & Kelly 2011: 103). As Bargh (2007), Altamirano-Jiménez (2013), Howard-Wagner (2010b, 2015) and others note, indigenous categorisations of neoliberal practices as a form of colonisation relate to a concern that neoliberalism in its multiple forms poses a threat to indigenous ways of life. This scholarship also critically reflects on the reshaping of the relationship between the state and indigenous peoples under neoliberalism (Altamirano-Jiménez 2004, Bargh 2007, Howard-Wagner 2009). For example, it draws attention to the increasing intervention in the lives of indigenous peoples (Howard-Wagner 2007, 2009, 2010a, 2010b) and the dispossession of indigenous people through privatisation (Wolfe 2006, Howard-Wagner 2012, Altamirano-Jiménez 2013, Coulthard 2014). It does not, however, preclude agency, resistance and decolonisation. Interpretive micro-studies about indigenous peoples’ engagement with neoliberalism provide particular value. They tell us about actually existing neoliberalism in the context of intervention in the everyday lives of indigenous peoples, contests over rights, contests over policy and the complex decisions indigenous people are making about how to protect their rights and navigate diverse economies involving neoliberal policies and practices.

Policies increasingly reinforce the self-determination of Indigenous peoples, but issues remain around group definitions. Colonization has led to (de)identification with Māori (New Zealand's Indigenous peoples) identity markers. We explore differences between Māori on combinations of descent, ethnicity and Iwi (extended kinship group) knowledge in the 2013 Census, and self-reported discrimination. There were six groups within the Māori descent population: two did not know their Iwi – some identified solely as Māori ethnicity (2.8 per cent) – or Māori plus another ethnicity(-ies; 6.8 per cent); two did not identify as Māori ethnicity: more named their Iwi (7.2 per cent), than not (6.9 per cent); the largest groups knew their Iwi and identified as Māori ethnicity, either solely (30.8 per cent), or alongside another ethnicity(-ies; 34.3 per cent). We found a pattern of differences across demographics and discrimination, highlighting the complexity of Māori identity and the need to account for differences within Indigenous groups.

This paper argues that self-determination to the greatest extent possible is a legitimate aspiration for Maori people. It is argued that in education this requires a philosophical and policy response more focused on Maori autonomy than can be provided within the bicultural framework that has lately informed Maori relationships with other actors in the education arena. The paper considers the place of kohanga reo, kura kaupapa Maori and wananga in relation to broader Maori aspirations for self-determination and discusses proposals that these aspirations be furthered through the establishment of a Maori Education Authority. It is also argued that opportunities for self-determination in New Zealand are compromised by the government's unwillingness to alter a tightly controlled centralised education market to provide genuine Māori autonomy over what type of education might be available and to what end.

"Beyond Biculturalism is a critical analysis of contemporary Maori public policy. Bicultural political theory dominated Maori/Crown relationships during the 1980s and 1990s and O'Sullivan argues that biculturalism inevitably makes Maori the junior partner in a colonial relationship that obstructs Maori aspirations to self-determination. The politics of indigeneity and self-determination are discussed as alternative political ideas for thinking about Maori relationships with the state. Against this background, and by drawing on Australian and Canadian comparisons, the book examines contemporary Maori political issues such as the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004, Maori parliamentary representation, the 'one law for all' ideology, settlements of Maori grievances against the Crown, and Maori economic development."--BOOK JACKET.

The very question of Indigenous authenticity, as Jeffrey Sissons reminds us, “…has deep roots within colonial racism” (2005, 43). Racialisation and the practice of creating and imbuing racial categories with seemingly impermeable boundaries and indestructible meanings has, after all, underpinned a range of colonial practices from the systematic alienation of Indigenous land and resources to child abduction. Regimes of biological and cultural authenticity continue to shape state policies and practices that regulate the everyday lives of Indigenous people around the world. Indeed, in some contexts, expectations of Indigenous cultural purity or environmental naturalness exist alongside the imposition of varying degrees

Whānau Ora is a new state-led, cross sectoral policy approach introduced in 2010. It places whānau outcomes at the very heart of social service delivery, and, in doing so represents a shift away from traditional approaches that delivered services to individuals. Furthermore, by focussing on collective outcomes, the approach is one that is intimately connected to Māori values and practices. This thesis traces the evolution of the Whānau Ora approach to social service delivery. In doing so, it explores the relationship between a philosophy of whānau ora, and the policy of Whānau Ora as it is enacted by various government institutions. Drawing upon data collected from interviews with key informants, the thesis argues that Whānau Ora presents opportunities for a new way of thinking about social service provision but a number of barriers may limit the potential of this approach to achieve wellbeing for Māori. First there is a danger that Māori language and culture are simply co-opted by the state in ways that transform their original meaning, and that Whānau Ora may in fact serve as a vehicle to shift responsibility for core service provision from government to Māori. Second, the differential treatment of Māori service providers by funding bodies illustrates the way in which institutional racism continues to impact on Māori. Finally, Whānau Ora is vulnerable to a political environment in which discourses of Māori privilege can impact on the longevity of policies that are seen to target Māori. As such, Whānau Ora’s contribution to greater self-determination for Māori is limited. The thesis ends by identifying key constitutional and institutional changes that are more likely to provide an environment in which self-determination can be achieved.

Following the annexation of Aotearoa/New Zealand by the British in 1840, Māori, as the Indigenous people of that country, experienced loss of sovereignty through the imposition of and application of new and transformative policies, including the law and unfamiliar legal and social codes. This paper considers the state and the influential legacy of an imposed, Settler-state social welfare and criminal justice system on Māori. An explicit, insider narrative will highlight how suppression, disconnection and abandonment, made manifest through particular and abusive state policies, has informed and constructed the life pathway of a member of a culturally and socially-submerged population, the Mongrel Mob gang.

This article draws on the personal experiences and state documentation of Stan Coster (Ngāti Kahungungu) whose life has been characterised by different forms of state confinement, including over 25 years in prison serving both short and long lags. Through the use of the Official Information Act, Stan recovered state documentation on himself spanning over 40 years. Stan is not a research participant, but a full research collaborator and is engaged in all elements of this paper, so while not a writer he is both auteur and author of this piece. Stan’s story is his own and yet many of its features speak to a much broader collective experience. His prison identity and gang identity can be seen as being both informed and generated by state sponsored activity. By traversing the issues that pertain to the crisis of mass imprisonment, Māori disproportionality in the prison system, the contribution of the state to prison, and gang identity, we look at the possibilities of drawing on knowledge acquired under conditions of state constraint.