Reynold Macpherson: Te Arawa 2050: Who Decides, Who Pays, and Who Is Accountable?

The launch of the Te Arawa 2050 Committee a year ago was framed as a gesture of goodwill and partnership within Rotorua Lakes Council. Many welcomed its stated aim: to give Te Arawa fair and proportionate influence in council policymaking. That objective was legitimate and long overdue. A year on, however, it is clear that goodwill cannot substitute for clarity—especially when households face sustained rates pressure and councils are being urged to live within tighter fiscal limits.

What was missing at the outset, and remains unresolved, is a clear explanation of power, duplication, and cost.

The committee’s structure is unusual. It includes the mayor, all ten elected councillors, and five representatives from Te Tatau o Te Arawa. In several plausible voting scenarios, Te Arawa-aligned members could hold a decisive majority or an effective veto. Even if such outcomes never occur, the possibility itself matters. Governance is shaped not only by what is exercised, but by what others know cannot easily be resisted.

The first year of operation revealed a further imbalance. Te Tatau representatives arrived organised, aligned, and clear about their priorities. Councillors, by contrast, appeared reluctant to articulate an independent vision for Rotorua, despite being elected to represent all residents and ratepayers and despite those priorities already existing in formal planning documents. The practical effect is a committee that risks endorsing Te Tatau’s agenda and forwarding it to the full council with an expectation of ratification, funding, and implementation.

That expectation is reinforced by a deeper governance gap. The council no longer articulates a clear, independent vision of its own. The Council’s former Vision 2030 has quietly disappeared from the Long-Term Plan 2024–2034, replaced by a general assurance that Rotorua should be “a better place for all.” In this vacuum, Te Arawa 2050 has become the dominant framework for imagining the district’s future. A council without its own vision lacks a firm basis for setting priorities, testing trade-offs, or saying no when affordability limits are reached.

This imbalance became visible in the project-ranking exercise undertaken last year. Seven shared priorities were initially identified, including rates relief. After lobbying, Reo Rua (a Māori language programme) rose to the top of the list and rates affordability disappeared altogether. That shift may reflect Te Tatau’s aspirations, but it will surprise many households now struggling with rising bills. When rates caps are under active discussion, removing affordability from the priority list is not a neutral act.

Equally troubling is what has not been explained. When officials refer to “partnership,” they point only to improved engagement under the Local Government Act. There has been no clear discussion of co-governance, no account of democratic equivalence, and no explanation of how non-Te Arawa residents are to exercise comparable influence over long-term priorities and spending. Assurances that staff remain apolitical miss the point. The issue is not partisanship; it is authority over public money.

Ratepayers are now entitled to evidence, not intentions. Has the committee operated as a genuinely advisory body, or have its recommendations been treated as decisions requiring routine ratification? Have any recommendations been substantively amended or rejected by the full council—and if not, why not? Has the voting structure enabled de facto veto power, even if it has not been formally exercised?

There is also a straightforward fiscal question. Te Tatau o Te Arawa already exists as a representative body mandated to articulate Te Arawa priorities and engage with council. It is understood to receive about $372,500 annually from ratepayers, plus funding for its own elections. Ratepayers are entitled to ask why an additional policy advisory body is funded to perform a closely overlapping advisory role. If functions duplicate, consolidation could deliver real savings without diminishing Te Arawa’s voice.

At a time when councils are told to prioritise core services and households are told that every dollar counts, governance structures themselves must be subject to the same discipline. What limits apply? What review mechanisms, performance measures, or sunset provisions govern this committee’s role? If outcomes prove unaffordable, unpopular, or divisive, where does accountability lie—politically, financially, and democratically?

This is not an argument against partnership. It is an argument for transparency, fiscal restraint, and democratic clarity. In a rates-cap era, councils cannot afford governance by assumption, goodwill, or duplication. They owe ratepayers something firmer than that. Worse, it is regrettable that the Rotorua Daily Post has declined to publish these questions, giving the impression that a partisan editorial line may now constrain legitimate public scrutiny.

Reynold Macpherson was a Rotorua Lakes councillor from 2019 to 2022 and chairman of Rotorua District Residents & Ratepayers from 2013 to 2025.