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Persistent health inequities between rangatahi Māori (Indigenous young people) and other young people within Aotearoa New Zealand are incurred by a colonial machinery of institutions, service systems and sociocultural contexts that facilitates the marginalisation of Māori. Despite a skilled and dedicated Māori workforce, current service contexts severely limit the innovation of Māori practitioners working from a basis of mātauranga Māori (Māori ways of knowing and being), and curtail their ability to support rangatahi Māori and their whānau (community of related families). We report on an interview study with 13 Māori practitioners in youth development, exploring their struggles, strengths and strategies, as part of a larger project exploring rangatahi wellbeing and whanaungatanga (connectedness and relationality). Utilising reflexive thematic analysis, we describe three conceptual domains that participant accounts spoke into: mitigating system failures to embrace rangatahi and their whānau, sustainability and longevity of services for rangatahi Māori, and fostering rangatahi tino rangatiratanga. Participant accounts illustrate the need for bold reform within youth services, towards sustainable models premised upon tino rangatiratanga – services led by Māori, designed by Māori, and intended to cater for the unique needs and aspirations of rangatahi Māori.

Māori customary rights to natural resources are a contentious issue between Māori and the New Zealand government and between Maori and non-Māori. The values and principles inherent in a treaty signed in 1840 between Māori and the British Crown have been undermined by the government’s refusal to allow Māori the right to go to the courts to determine proprietary rights to the foreshore, seabed and fresh water. Discriminatory Crown actions highlight the argument that when an injustice occurs then reparations should be made. The United Nations has chided the New Zealand government for its discriminatory behaviour and failure to provide guaranteed redress but it has had little effect.

In 2010 Indigenous peoples' rights continued to feature in discussions in a variety of international fora. Indigenous peoples' traditional knowledge (TK) associated with genetic resources (GR) were discussed under the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD); under the auspices of the World Intellectual Property Office (WIPO) and within the World Trade Office (WTO). The United Nations (UN) General Assembly's Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (Indigenous Peoples' Declaration) featured in debate under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC); the UN General Assembly's Third Committee; the work of the UN mechanisms with a specific mandate concerning Indigenous peoples; and, in a landmark ruling of the African Commission on Human and People's Rights (African Commission), was adopted by the African Union. International human rights monitoring bodies also advanced their jurisprudence on the rights of Indigenous peoples.

Aotearoa/New Zealand is not known for egregious breaches of indigenous peoples’ rights. Nonetheless, New Zealand’s legal system is ineffective at implementing international and domestic laws that protect the rights of Maori. This has been seen most starkly in the Foreshore and Seabed Act of 2004, which had the effect of extinguishing Maori aboriginal title to the foreshore and seabed areas and was passed despite almost universal Maori opposition.

In 1840, English officials on behalf of the British crown signed the Treaty of Waitangi—also known as Te Tiriti o Waitangi—with the Indigenous Māori population, affirming Māori sovereignty and guaranteeing their collective rights to the country’s land and resources. Since the 1700s, English settlers had been arriving in Aotearoa (the Māori name for New Zealand) to capitalize on the seal and whale trade. As the number of settlers increased, reports flowed back to Britain of general lawlessness and dubious private land deals, and the crown was forced to consider how best to control its citizens. A treaty with the Māori, officials decided, was the way to do so. The agreement, which established the basis for the relationship between the Māori and the British, is commonly cited as a shining example of how a treaty can recognize and protect Indigenous peoples’ rights by curtailing the reach of the state. But does te Tiriti live up to its sterling reputation? The answer, of course, is complicated.

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

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.

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.

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.