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In Aotearoa New Zealand, the arrival of imperial ideologies in the 19th century led to devastating land-loss and cultural marginalisation for M?ori at the hands of settlers and successive governments. This article examines the damaging effects of a Crown-imposed treaty claims settlement system designed to address injustices inflicted on M?ori. Interview data from a Taranaki-based (a West Coast region, central North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand) hap? (sub-tribe) that engaged with this system foreground the adversarial nature of this system and its continuation of trauma. We argue that, while the process provides voice to M?ori, it does so within a paradigm that pits kin-groups against each other, unjustly limits redress and fails to resolve tension. A tikanga framing provides insights into how tensions are set up and ways tikanga (underlying values and principles that guide practice) can be used outside the redress system to seek healing and resolution.

<jats:p>Standing back, the greatest influence of Indigenous Peoples on international law is our contribution to a pragmatically-driven yet conscious reframing of its foundations. Partly as a result of our participation in international law, it is changing its nineteenth and twentieth century state-centric, colonial, and positivist character to a more informal, flexible, and partially decolonizing system of law. In this way, Indigenous Peoples are crafting a legal system that achieves the “sweet-spot.” It has sufficient “hard-law” quality to restrain the self-interested instincts of powerful states—much needed by Indigenous Peoples seeking to realize their claims against states—and systemic inclusion and justice.</jats:p>

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.

Developing equitable marine management systems that recognise Indigenous worldviews, values, and practices, alongside international initiatives such as Ecosystem-Based Management (EBM) are paramount in countries which aim to recognise Indigenous rights. This is the case for New Zealand (NZ) where Indigenous-Māori rights to partner with the Government for the purpose of environmental management were guaranteed under the Treaty of Waitangi, 1840, and subsequent Acts (e.g. Resource Management Act, 1991). Our aim was to explore how both Indigenous-Māori and NZ societal values can be integrated into a marine co-management decision-making framework. Here we describe the Waka-Taurua (double-canoe) framework, and how it can be applied in developing a NZ marine management system (NZ-MMS), which includes both kaitiakitanga (a Māori concept of reciprocal care between Indigenous-Māori people and their territorial environment), and EBM, equitably. We argue that the Waka-Taurua framework can improve how marine co-management systems are developed by facilitating a more structured and equitable discussion of both Indigenous-Māori and broader societal worldviews, values, and practices.

Governments in New Zealand have legislated a large number of settlements extinguishing many hundreds of claims taken by Māori against the Crown for breaches of the country’s founding document, Te Tiriti o Waitangi. They portray settlements as a great success for Māori and the Crown. Māori disagree. Settlements are government-determined and imposed on Māori using a smoke and mirrors approach that masks successive governments’ true intentions: to claw back Māori legal rights; to extinguish all claims; and to maintain White control over Māori. In short, to uphold the Doctrine of Discovery in further breach of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Māori claimants and negotiators report being enticed into the process by false promises only to become traumatised and disenchanted. Yet many take a pragmatic stance and sign settlements, making the best they can out of a bad deal that goes nowhere near compensating for their actual loss. They know that despite what legislation may say, the settlements are not full, not fair and not final and that, like all previous settlements, they will be revisited. They also know that unless fundamental changes are made to the constitutional makeup of the country, there is no prospect of justice and reconciliation for Māori.

Māori leaders in New Zealand continue the battle to end British colonisation. The aim is to restore the balance between Māori and the Crown guaranteed in the treaty that Māori and the British Crown agreed to in 1840 so that we can live in peace and harmony. Early European visitors subjected our ancestors to numerous atrocities. Relying on the Doctrine of Discovery, they illegitimately usurped our power and dispossessed us, leaving us in a state of poverty, deprivation and marginalisation. They fabricated myths to justify their criminal activities, set up an illegitimate parliament with unfettered powers, passed laws legalising their crimes and then covered it up with amnesia. They established the Waitangi Tribunal in 1975 to inquire into breaches of the treaty, not realising that it would dismantle the myths and look beneath the amnesia. Governments then instigated the ‘treaty claims settlement’ process to extinguish all Māori claims, remove Māori rights and entrench colonisation. Research undertaken has shown that Māori loathe this process and do not accept that settlements are full and final. Research on constitutional transformation has identified a possible solution. The first step towards that goal involves implementing the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

The Mäori Electoral Option is a period of 4 months, every 5 years, when Mäori electors can choose whether to be on the Mäori or the General Electoral Roll. The outcome of the Mäori Electoral Option is a key factor in determining the number of Mäori seats in the New Zealand Parliament. The Electoral Commission estimates that approximately 6,000 Mäori voters each year request to change electoral roll, but in 2017 over 19,000 voters applied to change. Why were so many more Mäori wanting to change and why did they not know they could only change during the Mäori Electoral Option held every 5 years? The following year, the 2018 Mäori Electoral Option saw the first net increase of Mäori changing to the general roll since 1996. This article uses data gathered from the results of Mäori Electoral Options 1991–2018, an anonymous survey, and evaluations of Mäori Electoral Option campaigns to consider how the shifting trends in roll choices might be explained.

Drawing on the work of Matike Mai Aotearoa: The Independent Iwi Working Group on Constitutional Transformation (the Working Group), this article argues that there is an evolving New Zealand constitutionalism, one that offers a constitutional understanding grounded in the Māori constitutional system. The article opens with a descriptive analysis of the Māori constitutional system, explains the key features of New Zealand’s existing constitution and concludes with an argument that the existing constitution can evolve – and, through the political process, ought to evolve – according to the constitutional models that the Working Group recommends. This article deploys legal research methods, primarily doctrinal research and applied doctrinal research.1

‘There is a need for a mindset shift away from the pervasive assumption that the Crown is Pākehā, English-speaking, and distinct from Māori’, wrote the permanent commission of inquiry investigating breaches of New Zealand’s founding document, the Treaty of Waitangi. ‘Increasingly, in the twenty-first century, the Crown is also Māori.’ This paper argues that ‘the Crown in right of New Zealand’ is in need of redefining. In the 19th and parts of the 20th century Māori leaders and institutions were often understood as separate from the Crown. But that understanding is shifting, and this paper argues the shift is leading to a new understanding of the Crown in right of New Zealand.

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.

This article examines what might be included in a definition of Māori political participation that moves beyond a predominant focus on voting in New Zealand general elections. I suggest that the proliferation of Māori governance organisations in recent years means that Māori participation within these organisations must also be considered as part of wider political participation. In addition, I argue that Māori engagement with local authorities deserves further close examination to explore the multiple ways in which political participation occurs. Using a broader definition of Māori political participation and highlighting its many facets indicate that Māori engage in more varied ways in New Zealand politics than previously recognised

In this article, I outline the existing legislative options available and rationale for M?ori representation in local government. I suggest that the arguments and rationale against M?ori representation have been exacerbated by a lack of clarity around local government?s duties and obligations stemming from the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. In the second part of this article, I explore more recent arguments by M?ori for representation and involvement in local government decision-making on the basis of being mana whenua, which means to have territorial authority and power associated with the possession and occupation of tribal land. This argument foregrounds specific iwi (tribes) as holding territorial authority and therefore rights to representation and involvement in decision-making sourced in tikanga M?ori (M?ori law), over and above other M?ori who live in that area. I examine in detail the Rotorua District Council?s establishment of the Te Arawa Partnership Board in 2015 and argue that this Board and its first election results provide unique insights into the relationship between Te Arawa people living in and outside the district and has implications for broader conversations about the rights of M?ori living away from their tribal areas.

Explores the background to Māori representation in Parliament before tracing the development of Labour's acquisition of the Māori vote up until 1...

Reconciliation brings together Christological and anthropological dimensions of human thought to illustrate the nexus between religious principles and political means. For the state reconciliation is concerned with social cohesion and political stability. For the church, it extends the sacramental notion of reconciliation between God and penitent to public relationships. This article examines Roman Catholic contributions to secular reconciliation debates. It shows how religious precepts create moral imperatives to engagement with secular discourses as a necessary element of Christian mission. It also argues that the church’s role in the disruption of indigenous societies creates an additional moral imperative to engage in reconciliation as mission and to articulate a Christian vision of indigenous rights.

Abstract Christian public theology extends reconciliation beyond its principal sacramental concern for relationships between God and penitent to the construction of ‘socially just’ public relationships for the settlement of intra-national conflict. In theological terms, reconciliation brings public relationships into what Hally calls ‘the Christ narrative of passion, death and resurrection’ in which the perpetrators of injustice repent and seek forgiveness. This article introduces the conflicts that these discourses aim to resolve in Australia, Fiji and New Zealand and explains and contrasts reconciliation’s relative importance in each of these jurisdictions. Moreover, the article’s cross-jurisdictional comparison shows reconciliation’s limits and possibilities as public theology, and argues that in Australia and New Zealand it has helped to create political environments willing to admit indigenous perspectives on a range of policy issues. On the contrary, however, the article also shows that the Fijian churches have distorted the concept of reconciliation to support political imperatives that are difficult to rationalize theologically, even though they are presented by the churches as being concerned with religious goals.