There is a very important video doing the rounds from Ani O’Brien, and I think every New Zealander who cares about the future of our democracy should watch it.
Her message is remarkably simple.
It is about where political authority in New Zealand should ultimately reside.
That is the real issue behind Te Pāti Māori’s newly announced constitutional policy.
And if you think this is just another political promise that will disappear after the election, I suggest you look more closely at what is actually being proposed.
Because this goes much further than tinkering around the edges of our existing constitutional arrangements.
And if you think this is just another political promise that will disappear after the election, I suggest you look more closely at what is actually being proposed.
Because this goes much further than tinkering around the edges of our existing constitutional arrangements.
THIS IS CONSTITUTIONAL TRANSFORMATION
Te Pāti Māori has announced a major constitutional reform programme to make Crown obligations arising from Te Tiriti legally enforceable and to fund what it describes as the next stage of Māori-led constitutional transformation.
The policy includes:
- a $220 million Mātike Mai Fund over four years;
- an independent Te Tiriti Commission with powers to investigate serious Crown breaches, require remedial action and issue Te Tiriti Compliance Orders;
- making Waitangi Tribunal recommendations binding on the Crown;
- implementing the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples;
- and a target of constitutional transformation by 2040.
That is significant.
This is no longer simply a discussion paper. It is an election policy with the potential to become part of negotiations over the formation of the next Government.
And one part of it deserves particular attention.
The proposed Te Tiriti Commission would not simply advise ministers. It would be an independent body able to investigate Crown decisions, policy and executive action for compliance with statutory obligations arising from Te Tiriti.
Where it found a serious breach, it could require remedial action and issue a Te Tiriti Compliance Order to stop or suspend the decision. If the Government disagreed with the order, it would have to challenge it in the High Court.
Rawiri Waititi has gone further, describing the proposed Commission as representing something “over and above Parliament.”
Think about that for a moment.
We are talking about an independent body, whose members are not elected by the public, having a proposed power to stop or suspend an executive decision made by an elected Government.
That is not ordinary co-governance.
It represents a fundamental shift in where political authority resides.
ANI O’BRIEN HAS IDENTIFIED THE REAL ISSUE
This is where Ani O’Brien’s video is so important.
The wider Mātike Mai kaupapa is explicitly concerned with constitutional transformation, and its current constitutional vision explores a multi-sphere structure in which hapū, iwi and other Māori representation could organise in assemblies alongside the Crown in Parliament.
It also envisages a relational sphere involving constitutionally mandated relationships and decision-making between Māori and the Crown.
Mātike Mai further advocates recognising hapū and iwi tikanga and kawa as a valid system of law sitting alongside, rather than within, the New Zealand legal system.
And it says plainly that constitutional transformation is to be realised by 2040.
That is a very different constitutional concept from the one most New Zealanders have grown up with.
WHAT HAPPENS TO PARLIAMENT?
Under our present system, Parliament is elected by the people and the Government must retain the confidence of the elected House. Parliament makes the law, while judges interpret and apply it. Judges do not ordinarily have the power to strike down an Act of Parliament simply because they disagree with it.
That principle of parliamentary sovereignty is a fundamental feature of New Zealand’s constitutional arrangements.
So consider what happens if Crown obligations arising from Te Tiriti are made legally enforceable and an independent Commission is given power to investigate executive decisions and, where it finds a serious breach, issue an order stopping or suspending the decision.
The question becomes:
Who has the final say?
The elected Government?
Parliament?
The courts?
The Commission?
Or a future constitutional arrangement in which political authority is divided between different spheres?
That is not a minor technical question. It goes to the heart of democracy.
Professor James Allan has been warning about this problem for years.
Writing about a possible written constitution for New Zealand, he argued that incorporating or entrenching the Treaty would mean handing questions of enormous political importance to judges rather than leaving them to voters. His objection was not to having a constitution as such, but to replacing democratic decision-making with judicial interpretation of broad constitutional principles whose meaning could be contested.
David Round made a similar warning in his 2013 discussion of the Treaty in a new constitution. He argued that putting Treaty principles into a constitution without broad public agreement could allow a minority to entrench its interests against widespread opposition.
Those warnings deserve serious consideration now.
Once constitutional principles are given superior legal status, their meaning is no longer determined solely by elected governments or Parliament. Courts may be required to determine what those principles mean and whether legislation or government action is consistent with them.
That can fundamentally change the balance between Parliament, the courts and the electorate.
And once constitutional power is entrenched, getting it back is not nearly as simple as changing an ordinary Act of Parliament.
THIS IS WHERE HE PUAPUA COMES BACK INTO THE DISCUSSION
I have previously written about He Puapua.
It is important to be accurate here.
That can fundamentally change the balance between Parliament, the courts and the electorate.
And once constitutional power is entrenched, getting it back is not nearly as simple as changing an ordinary Act of Parliament.
THIS IS WHERE HE PUAPUA COMES BACK INTO THE DISCUSSION
I have previously written about He Puapua.
It is important to be accurate here.
He Puapua was an independent report commissioned by the previous Government. It was not adopted as Government policy in its entirety.
But it did set out a roadmap for implementing the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and proposed major changes in the balance between kāwanatanga (Crown authority) and rangatiratanga (Maori autonomy).
Its Vision 2040 explicitly drew on the Mātike Mai model of different spheres of authority.
The report described a rangatiratanga sphere reflecting Māori governance, a kāwanatanga sphere representing Crown governance, and a larger joint or relational sphere in which Māori and the Crown would share governance over matters of mutual concern.
It also contemplated circumstances in which governance functions such as education, health and social services could shift from the kāwanatanga sphere to the rangatiratanga sphere.
That doesn’t mean Te Pāti Māori’s 2026 policy is He Puapua.
It means something more troubling — and potentially more dangerous.
The constitutional direction that critics warned He Puapua could facilitate has not disappeared. The ideas have continued to be developed within the wider constitutional-transformation movement and are now being reflected in concrete political policy.
And this time there is a $220 million fund attached to the process.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE REST OF US?
There is a fundamental question here:
What happens to the principle that every New Zealander is an equal citizen under one Parliament?
Mātike Mai’s proposed constitutional structure envisages a distinct rangatiratanga sphere in which Māori make decisions for Māori, a kāwanatanga sphere in which the Crown makes decisions for its people, and a relational sphere in which the two exercise authority together.
Supporters may argue that this is not separatism but a new form of partnership. They may believe it will produce a fairer country.
They are entitled to make that case.
But those of us who disagree are equally entitled to ask whether such an arrangement would create different political rights and different sources of political authority according to ancestry or Treaty status.
If it does, then the question of whether this moves us away from the principle of one political system and equal citizenship is NOT some wild fantasy.
It is a question that deserves an answer.
AND WHAT ABOUT PRIVATE PROPERTY?
There is another question that shouldn’t simply be brushed aside.
I am not suggesting that Te Pāti Māori’s present constitutional policy proposes confiscating privately owned houses, farms or businesses.
It doesn’t.
But constitutional transformation is about much more than the wording of this week’s policy announcement.
Te Pāti Māori has previously supported policies giving mana whenua a first right of refusal over culturally significant private land. The party has also supported stronger Māori claims concerning natural resources and the implementation of UNDRIP.
Those policies do not automatically mean that today’s privately owned property is going to be taken.
But they do raise a legitimate question:
If the constitutional balance of authority is fundamentally changed, how far could collective iwi and hapū rights ultimately extend?
That question matters to every homeowner, farmer, business owner and landowner in New Zealand.
It should be answered, not dismissed as scaremongering.
2040 IS NOT THAT FAR AWAY
Sometimes 2040 sounds like some distant future.
It isn’t.
It is only 14 years away.
A child starting school today will be entering adulthood by then.
And 2040 is not an arbitrary date. It is the stated horizon for constitutional transformation in Mātike Mai and was also used in He Puapua.
Te Pāti Māori has now put substantial public funding behind a process intended to advance Māori-led constitutional transformation, alongside legislation designed to make Crown obligations arising from Te Tiriti legally enforceable.
That is why this debate deserves attention now — NOT in 2039.
NEW ZEALAND IS AT A CROSSROADS
There is one final reason this debate is particularly urgent.
But it did set out a roadmap for implementing the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and proposed major changes in the balance between kāwanatanga (Crown authority) and rangatiratanga (Maori autonomy).
Its Vision 2040 explicitly drew on the Mātike Mai model of different spheres of authority.
The report described a rangatiratanga sphere reflecting Māori governance, a kāwanatanga sphere representing Crown governance, and a larger joint or relational sphere in which Māori and the Crown would share governance over matters of mutual concern.
It also contemplated circumstances in which governance functions such as education, health and social services could shift from the kāwanatanga sphere to the rangatiratanga sphere.
That doesn’t mean Te Pāti Māori’s 2026 policy is He Puapua.
It means something more troubling — and potentially more dangerous.
The constitutional direction that critics warned He Puapua could facilitate has not disappeared. The ideas have continued to be developed within the wider constitutional-transformation movement and are now being reflected in concrete political policy.
And this time there is a $220 million fund attached to the process.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE REST OF US?
There is a fundamental question here:
What happens to the principle that every New Zealander is an equal citizen under one Parliament?
Mātike Mai’s proposed constitutional structure envisages a distinct rangatiratanga sphere in which Māori make decisions for Māori, a kāwanatanga sphere in which the Crown makes decisions for its people, and a relational sphere in which the two exercise authority together.
Supporters may argue that this is not separatism but a new form of partnership. They may believe it will produce a fairer country.
They are entitled to make that case.
But those of us who disagree are equally entitled to ask whether such an arrangement would create different political rights and different sources of political authority according to ancestry or Treaty status.
If it does, then the question of whether this moves us away from the principle of one political system and equal citizenship is NOT some wild fantasy.
It is a question that deserves an answer.
AND WHAT ABOUT PRIVATE PROPERTY?
There is another question that shouldn’t simply be brushed aside.
I am not suggesting that Te Pāti Māori’s present constitutional policy proposes confiscating privately owned houses, farms or businesses.
It doesn’t.
But constitutional transformation is about much more than the wording of this week’s policy announcement.
Te Pāti Māori has previously supported policies giving mana whenua a first right of refusal over culturally significant private land. The party has also supported stronger Māori claims concerning natural resources and the implementation of UNDRIP.
Those policies do not automatically mean that today’s privately owned property is going to be taken.
But they do raise a legitimate question:
If the constitutional balance of authority is fundamentally changed, how far could collective iwi and hapū rights ultimately extend?
That question matters to every homeowner, farmer, business owner and landowner in New Zealand.
It should be answered, not dismissed as scaremongering.
2040 IS NOT THAT FAR AWAY
Sometimes 2040 sounds like some distant future.
It isn’t.
It is only 14 years away.
A child starting school today will be entering adulthood by then.
And 2040 is not an arbitrary date. It is the stated horizon for constitutional transformation in Mātike Mai and was also used in He Puapua.
Te Pāti Māori has now put substantial public funding behind a process intended to advance Māori-led constitutional transformation, alongside legislation designed to make Crown obligations arising from Te Tiriti legally enforceable.
That is why this debate deserves attention now — NOT in 2039.
NEW ZEALAND IS AT A CROSSROADS
There is one final reason this debate is particularly urgent.
We are heading into a general election on 7 November 2026, and the result is far from certain.
Recent polling remains fluid, with different polls producing very different pictures of the likely parliamentary arithmetic. One recent Roy Morgan poll put the National-ACT-NZ First grouping on 49 percent, compared with 41 percent for Labour-Greens-Te Pāti Māori, while Opportunity was on 9.5 percent and potentially capable of holding significant influence.
Nobody should pretend the election is already decided.
But the possibility of a Labour-Green-Te Pāti Māori Government, potentially dependent on support from another party, is real.
And that matters enormously here.
The Greens have indicated broad support for the general direction of Te Pāti Māori’s Treaty policy, including stronger obligations on the Crown and binding Waitangi Tribunal recommendations.
Labour is more cautious.
Chris Hipkins has rejected the idea of a Te Tiriti Commission being able to overrule Cabinet, saying that “ultimately, the Parliament has to be the final decision-making body, not a judicial body.” He has also said constitutional reform should be an evolving process brought to the wider public, rather than something imposed by one government or one party.
But the question is not simply what Labour agrees with Te Pāti Māori today.
It is what happens after the election if the numbers do not produce a straightforward majority.
Te Pāti Māori has already declared its constitutional programme a bottom line for post-election negotiations.
And it is not the only party now talking about a wider constitutional conversation around Te Tiriti.
Opportunity Party leader Qiulae Wong has said that TOP regards Te Tiriti as the foundation of the relationship between Māori and the Crown and has supported a wider constitutional conversation about the place of Te Tiriti, saying that it should be genuinely grassroots and developed alongside Māori. She has also backed Māori wards and other policies consistent with a stronger constitutional role for Te Tiriti.
That matters because under MMP, a party does not have to be large to have considerable political influence. It only has to hold votes that another party needs.
If Labour and the Greens were able to form the basis of a Government but required Te Pāti Māori’s support, Te Pāti Māori would have considerable bargaining power. If the numbers instead required support from another party such as TOP, that could also affect the direction of constitutional policy.
And if more than one potential support party favours moving the country towards a broader constitutional role for Te Tiriti, the political pressure becomes even greater.
The issue, therefore, is not simply what individual parties say while campaigning. It is what they may be prepared to negotiate once the votes have been counted and the numbers needed to form a Government are known.
Chris Hipkins may say today that Parliament must remain the final decision-making body. The crucial question is whether that position would survive the political pressure of coalition or confidence-and-supply negotiations if constitutional change became part of the price of forming a Government.
Recent polling remains fluid, with different polls producing very different pictures of the likely parliamentary arithmetic. One recent Roy Morgan poll put the National-ACT-NZ First grouping on 49 percent, compared with 41 percent for Labour-Greens-Te Pāti Māori, while Opportunity was on 9.5 percent and potentially capable of holding significant influence.
Nobody should pretend the election is already decided.
But the possibility of a Labour-Green-Te Pāti Māori Government, potentially dependent on support from another party, is real.
And that matters enormously here.
The Greens have indicated broad support for the general direction of Te Pāti Māori’s Treaty policy, including stronger obligations on the Crown and binding Waitangi Tribunal recommendations.
Labour is more cautious.
Chris Hipkins has rejected the idea of a Te Tiriti Commission being able to overrule Cabinet, saying that “ultimately, the Parliament has to be the final decision-making body, not a judicial body.” He has also said constitutional reform should be an evolving process brought to the wider public, rather than something imposed by one government or one party.
But the question is not simply what Labour agrees with Te Pāti Māori today.
It is what happens after the election if the numbers do not produce a straightforward majority.
Te Pāti Māori has already declared its constitutional programme a bottom line for post-election negotiations.
And it is not the only party now talking about a wider constitutional conversation around Te Tiriti.
Opportunity Party leader Qiulae Wong has said that TOP regards Te Tiriti as the foundation of the relationship between Māori and the Crown and has supported a wider constitutional conversation about the place of Te Tiriti, saying that it should be genuinely grassroots and developed alongside Māori. She has also backed Māori wards and other policies consistent with a stronger constitutional role for Te Tiriti.
That matters because under MMP, a party does not have to be large to have considerable political influence. It only has to hold votes that another party needs.
If Labour and the Greens were able to form the basis of a Government but required Te Pāti Māori’s support, Te Pāti Māori would have considerable bargaining power. If the numbers instead required support from another party such as TOP, that could also affect the direction of constitutional policy.
And if more than one potential support party favours moving the country towards a broader constitutional role for Te Tiriti, the political pressure becomes even greater.
The issue, therefore, is not simply what individual parties say while campaigning. It is what they may be prepared to negotiate once the votes have been counted and the numbers needed to form a Government are known.
Chris Hipkins may say today that Parliament must remain the final decision-making body. The crucial question is whether that position would survive the political pressure of coalition or confidence-and-supply negotiations if constitutional change became part of the price of forming a Government.
That creates a difficult dilemma for Labour.
Does Hipkins stand firm and risk losing the support needed to form a Government?
Or does he compromise in order to secure the numbers?
Nobody can know in advance what he would ultimately do. But the political leverage would plainly be there.
That is why the question of who holds the balance of power after the election could be every bit as important as which party wins the most seats.
The constitutional question cannot be separated from the election arithmetic.
THE CHOICE FACING NEW ZEALANDERS
When New Zealanders go to the polling booths on 7 November, they need to think very carefully about what their vote could set in motion.
This election is not simply about tax, spending, health, housing or immigration.
It could also determine whether New Zealand continues as a democracy based on one Parliament, one system of law and equal citizenship, or begins moving towards a fundamentally different constitutional arrangement in which political authority is divided between different spheres and increasingly defined by Treaty status and ancestry.
The choice ultimately belongs to the voters.
So before casting their votes, every New Zealander should ask:
Do I want my vote to preserve the democratic system of equal citizenship we have today — or to advance a constitutional transformation whose eventual destination may be very difficult to undo?
This is not simply another argument about co-governance.
It is about who governs New Zealand.
And once the foundations of a democracy are changed, there may be no easy way back.
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.
Does Hipkins stand firm and risk losing the support needed to form a Government?
Or does he compromise in order to secure the numbers?
Nobody can know in advance what he would ultimately do. But the political leverage would plainly be there.
That is why the question of who holds the balance of power after the election could be every bit as important as which party wins the most seats.
The constitutional question cannot be separated from the election arithmetic.
THE CHOICE FACING NEW ZEALANDERS
When New Zealanders go to the polling booths on 7 November, they need to think very carefully about what their vote could set in motion.
This election is not simply about tax, spending, health, housing or immigration.
It could also determine whether New Zealand continues as a democracy based on one Parliament, one system of law and equal citizenship, or begins moving towards a fundamentally different constitutional arrangement in which political authority is divided between different spheres and increasingly defined by Treaty status and ancestry.
The choice ultimately belongs to the voters.
So before casting their votes, every New Zealander should ask:
Do I want my vote to preserve the democratic system of equal citizenship we have today — or to advance a constitutional transformation whose eventual destination may be very difficult to undo?
This is not simply another argument about co-governance.
It is about who governs New Zealand.
And once the foundations of a democracy are changed, there may be no easy way back.
Geoff Parker is a passionate advocate for equal rights and a colour blind society.
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