Phase Two of the Royal Commission of Inquiry into the government’s response to Covid19 and its effects got underway this week, with the commencement of the hearing of public submissions.

According to the Commission chair, Grant Illingworth KC, the focus of this aspect of the inquiry is to hear from the public about their experiences, including the impacts on "social division and isolation, health and education, and business activity.” It will also " hear from experts about the key decisions and their consequences, and lessons to be learned from what happened."

There will be a further phase of the inquiry next month, to hear from key decision makers who "led and informed" the government's response to the pandemic.

Already there have been calls for former Prime Minister Dame Jacinda Ardern to return from the United States to give evidence to and be cross-examined by the Royal Commission, but it is not yet clear whether she will do so. Current Labour leader, Chris Hipkins was vague when interviewed about whether Ardern would appear, even though he says he met her in London last week. Ardern has subsequently said that she will be happy to “provide evidence” to the inquiry but she has so far shied clear of confirming that means she is willing to appear in person.

As the person who led New Zealand through the pandemic crisis, and received wide international acclaim for her performance, there is no question that Ardern should front up at the New Zealand inquiry. Failure to do so, given the subsequent national division over the pandemic response, would send all the wrong signals, and would diminish the credibility currently attached to her government’s overall Covid19 performance. Appearing before the inquiry would be a clear acceptance of public accountability for actions taken in the national interest during a national crisis. She owes it to New Zealanders – her “team of five million” – to do so.

But whether Ardern decides to front or not, there are clear signs that her Labour Party colleagues are not impressed by the public phases of the inquiry now getting underway. They seem clearly uncomfortable with having to explain and justify their actions to an independent Royal Commission. Hipkins has already dismissed the new stages as being designed to “achieve a particular outcome, particularly around providing a platform for those who have conspiracy theorist views."

While he says he will co-operate with the inquiry and answer all the written questions put to him, he would not commit to appearing in person if asked to do so. “I don’t want to see happen … a whole lot of theatrics. I’m very interested in engaging with them on how … we can capture the lessons … [but] the terms of reference are certainly far more political than the first one,” he said.

As with Ardern, Hipkins should appear before the inquiry. He was one of the most senior Ministers involved in the then government’s response, and will forever be associated with some of its more controversial measures like the MIQ scheme, restrictions on family reunification in stressful circumstances and the ridiculous short-lived suggestion in late 2021 that Aucklanders might have to get prior government permission for the time of day and dates on which they could leave for the summer holidays. Whatever his concerns about the terms of reference, Hipkins, like Ardern, owes it to all those who suffered through MIQ or not being able to join dying loved ones in their final few hours to front up and publicly justify those actions.

There is a third person who should similarly be required to front before the Royal Commission and that is the former Director-General of Health, Sir Ashley Bloomfield. Although the former government was ultimately solely responsible for the various decisions taken, many of those decisions were based on advice provided by Bloomfield. Moreover, during the period of the pandemic, Bloomfield enjoyed a level of access to both the Prime Minister and the whole Cabinet that has not been shared by any other public servant in New Zealand’s history. The unique nature of his role at that time makes him more accountable for the decisions taken than any other senior public servant would normally be.

A key element of Ardern’s, Hipkins’ and Bloomfield’s success during the pandemic was that they all displayed a consistent level of confidence that they were making the right decisions in the best interests of all New Zealanders. That portrayal of confidence played a key role in getting New Zealanders onside and generally complying with the various measures put in place, despite the considerable disruption to their own lives and circumstances.

Given that level of unprecedented upheaval and restriction on personal freedom – greater even than wartime – which people went along with because they believed it was for the greater good, it is now far from unreasonable for New Zealanders to expect Ardern, Hipkins and Bloomfield to appear before the Royal Commission to explain their actions in a way that they would not and could not do at the time.

Only then will the Royal Commission be sufficiently informed to report on “lessons to be learned from what happened.”

 

Symbolism over substance is a well-established political art. Sometimes symbolism is a substitute for decisive action, sometimes it is a way of signalling a future policy intent that for various reasons cannot yet be achieved. On other occasions, it is a simple diversionary tactic, designed to distract attention from policy failure elsewhere.

A recent good example of symbolism over substance is New Zealand First’s proposed Bill to ban the display of any flag or emblem other than the New Zealand flag on government buildings. This is all part of New Zealand First’s “war on woke” and is obviously aimed at prohibiting the display of Tino Rangatiratanga and LGTBQ flags on public buildings, something its anti-woke constituency would likely approve of.

But whatever one thinks of that policy, it hardly requires an Act of Parliament to achieve it. A directive to relevant chief executives would do just as well, but that would remove the drama of dealing with such a non-issue by legislation, which would in turn detract from the public attention the policy is seeking to gain.

It is reminiscent of the early 1980s when the then Education Minister Merv Wellington became obsessed with every school having a flagpole and flying the New Zealand flag daily. He even went as far as promulgating Regulations setting out the dimensions and material of the flag and specific rules about its display. Rather than being seen as an assertion of national spirit and patriotism, as the Minister hoped, the policy quickly became an object of ridicule, detracting from the many more serious educational issues around at the time. Once he was no longer Minister, the policy disappeared.

If history is any guide, New Zealand First’s flag policy, should it even make it to legislation, will not survive either. But it will reinforce New Zealand First's credentials with the “anti-woke” brigade it is seeking to appeal to, in just the same way its earlier, but never implemented, policy on gender-specific toilet access was designed to.

But New Zealand First are not the only party playing the symbolism over substance card. Earlier this week National announced plans for an instant fines approach to dealing with shoplifters. The rhetoric was strong, but the details and the timing remain vague. Not surprisingly though, the plan has been widely welcomed by small businesses who have been adversely affected by increasing shoplifting levels in recent years. For many, the symbolic effect was enough – at last the government was recognising there was a problem to be resolved.

However, it is still far from clear how the instant fines system being suggested will work (a correspondent to Wellington’s Post asked how people who resorted to shoplifting because they could not afford to pay could cope with an instant fine), or what level of Police resources will be dedicated to it. And nor it is clear when the necessary legislation will be introduced and passed.

Still, it all looks like strong government, even if the details are still uncertain. And so, it serves its political point, which was, after all, the primary objective. The government has put its stake in the ground, and, even better from its point of view, entrapped the Opposition into opposing it. It has won the symbolism battle on shoplifting, but it remains to be seen whether it will be as successful with the substance.

The other side of this coin is when politicians refuse to acknowledge the substance of an issue and wallow instead in the symbolism surrounding it. In an extraordinary outburst this week, the normally considered Chris Hipkins told a radio host that the reason ram raids were no longer a media issue was because “your Tory owners at NZME have just decided not to put it on the front page anymore. It’s still happening, it’s just NZME have decided that it’s not in the Government’s best interests and they do the National Party’s singing for them and so they’re not covering it as much anymore.”

Unfortunately for Hipkins the facts tell a different story. In 2022, there were 714 ram raids reported. The following year – when Hipkins was Prime Minister – that figure dropped to 495. However so far this year it sits at just 45, a more than 90% fall on the figure of Hipkins’ time. That, not media ownership prejudice, is the reason they are not getting the coverage they used to, but Hipkins will be hoping his media bashing will resonate with his die-hard supporters and so detract attention from the facts.

The danger here is not so much that politicians favour symbolism over substance from time to time. That is part and parcel of the political game which every politician engages in when it suits them. The problem is when the politician is revealed to have no other modus operandi than symbolism over substance, and when that becomes their sole end.

Voters quickly spot such cant and discount those politicians accordingly.

In politics, things often turn full circle. National's current musings about the future of regional councils following New Zealand First’s call for their abolition is the latest example.

Regional councils were established following major reforms instituted by the fourth Labour Government in 1989. The aim of those reforms was to streamline what was then considered to be a cumbersome and inefficient structure with over 850 ad hoc boards and councils. These were slashed to just 86 multi-purpose local authorities. Thirteen new regional councils (subsequently reduced to 11 through amalgamations) were also established, with broad environmental responsibilities, including pest and weed control, natural resource management, and civil defence. 

The reforms were vigorously opposed by the National Party, as an assault on local democracy and representation. It saw the new regional councils as an artificial and unnecessary overlay that would be no effective replacement for the many established counties and boroughs that were being abolished.

But there was another important element to Labour's local government reforms than just getting rid of counties and boroughs. At the same time, the Labour Government was revising planning and resource management law, bringing together 54 different planning and environmental statutes into a single resource management act. The new regional councils were intended to have a key regulatory role in the resource management regime this new legislation would usher in.

When the National Government took office in 1990 once of its first acts was to wind back the powers of the new regional councils. Consequently, regional councils were left largely toothless, with substantially reduced roles. For the last thirty-five years they have therefore remained an awkward anomaly, with little public understanding of their purpose.

Also, much of the controversy that has attended the Resource Management Act since its passage in 1991 can be traced back to the winding back of the original powers intended for regional councils to administer its provisions. The upshot was that when the Act was introduced, it was largely in a regulatory vacuum, which gave rise to many of the problems that have dogged it ever since.

National is now looking to dump the Resource Management Act altogether and to replace it with a more streamlined, centrally based standards-driven approach to reduce the number of individual resource consents required. Given that, it is hardly any surprise that the government should also be asking whether regional councils are needed at all. So, not only is National on the cusp of getting rid of the Resource Management Act, which it has never really been comfortable with, but now also sees the associated opportunity of ridding itself of regional councils, about which it has been wary and unconvinced ever since they were established.

Should all this come to pass, and regional councils are done away with, few will lament their passing. Many though will agree with Christchurch Mayor Phil Mauger that if regional councils have had their day, the bigger question will be what comes next.

Will there be more super-cities like Auckland with a unitary authority carrying out the functions previously ascribed to regional and territorial government? If so, how many super-cities could there be? At a glance, probably very few. Napier-Hastings, Wellington including the Hutt Valley and the Kapiti Coast, and greater Christchurch seem the obvious candidates under such a scenario, but what about the rest of the country?

Or are most of the responsibilities currently performed by regional councils going to be taken over by the new national standards bodies the resource management law changes are proposing? Where does that leave public transport? Or will that be passed back to city and district councils to provide?

And, given that the current rating system for funding councils is almost broken, and the government now looks set to exacerbate the situation by introducing rates caps, how will all these changes be paid for? A more likely scenario in such circumstances would simply be that councils severely reduce or abandon many of their services because they can no longer afford to pay for them.  

National’s plan to establish specific City and Regional Deals to focus on infrastructure and long-term economic development give a clue to its response. Consistent with the Prime Minister’s approach to government generally, it seems far more interested in transactional relationships with local communities than maintaining democratic representational structures for their own sake.

The City and Regional Deals approach may work if such deals are substantial and offer real regional benefit. But so far, it is difficult to tell. No such deals are yet in place – the first one is promised by the end of 2025, with three more scheduled for 2026.

In just over six weeks candidate nominations for this year’s local body elections close. With the way things are currently swirling, those considering running for regional councils ought to be watching National’s musings about the future of regional government very carefully.

 

Health Minister Simeon Brown's desire to make greater use of private hospital capacity to bring down elective surgical waiting lists makes sense. So too does his plan to increase the period for which private hospitals can be contracted to the public sector from three years to ten years. That will provide more certainty to both sectors about future capacity requirements and should allow for better long-term planning. Not to mention better service to the public.

However, it will inevitably raise the spectre of intensifying concern over what is already called the "postcode lottery" approach to the provision of healthcare. This refers to the perceived uneven distribution of healthcare resources and services, leading to significant variations in the quality and availability of care depending on where a person lives. The concern is that health outcomes and access to healthcare may depend more on someone's postcode or geographic area, rather than their individual needs.

The general assumption underpinning this is that the further away someone lives from a main centre, the more difficult it can be to gain access to quality healthcare. The focus of attention is far more likely to be on the needs of large populations than smaller or more isolated communities whose healthcare will consequently suffer.

Brown's critics say that his moves to incentivise greater use of private hospital surgical capacity over the next decade will simply mean more and better private hospitals in larger communities - where the patients and the money are - leaving smaller communities out in the cold once again. But these concerns may not fit with what is happening at present.

Earlier this week Health New Zealand released results to show how well various districts are tracking in achieving the government’s key health targets. In general, the government is aiming for 95% attainment of each of the five goals by each health district by 2030. The current average score is 70.7%, so there is still a long way to go.

However, what is more interesting is that the figures show smaller health districts generally doing better than the larger ones. For example, the Lakes (Rotorua and Taupo), Tairawhiti and South Canterbury districts have already surpassed the 2030 target of 90% of their patients receiving cancer management service within 31 days of the decision to treat. Bigger districts like Waikato, Canterbury and Southern (Otago/Southland) are well down that list.

West Coast, Tairawhiti, South Canterbury and Lakes are doing best in terms of shorter stays for patients in emergency departments, with West Coast having already met the 2030 target. By contrast, Auckland, Waikato and Capital and Coast languish near the bottom.

Lakes, South Canterbury, and West Coast are at or near the top when it comes to patients waiting less than four months for first specialist assessment, with Lakes already having met the 2030 target. But when it comes to childhood immunisations and shorter waiting times for elective treatments, the bigger districts are generally performing better than their smaller counterparts.

The overall picture that emerges is that while overall the country has a long way to go to achieve the 2030 targets, the gap between smaller districts and their large urban counterparts is far less than might previously have been imagined. Indeed, the smaller health districts are outperforming their larger urban colleagues in many of the critical areas. While the figures are a snapshot in time covering the first quarter of this year only, and therefore need to be treated with caution, they do suggest the capability and capacity gaps across the country are far less than what might be generally have been expected.

All of which is relevant to Brown’s plans to make greater use of private hospital capacity. Access to cancer treatment services, and elective surgery procedures remain specific bottlenecks across the country, especially in the major centres. Greater utilisation of private hospital capacity in these areas could free up more acute public sector resources in other areas, which could be used to meet patients’ needs in both the large cities and nearby smaller population areas. That would be a positive step forward.

However, a bigger problem still looms unresolved. Brown’s acknowledgement that private hospitals need a greater sense of long-term certainty before they can be expected to invest in service development the way he hopes is laudable. But the same applies across the whole health sector – not just the private hospitals.

Six months on from Brown taking on the health portfolio and promising more certainty and purpose, there is still no clear sense of the government’s intended overall direction. Health professionals, general practitioners, and specialist services remain no wiser than they were at the start of the year about the professional and regulatory structures they will be expected to work within, or what long-term public funding arrangements will be put in place. And there has been no firm indication of when decisions on any of these areas can be expected. It is therefore little wonder that staffing shortages remain in the public system as many staff seek more certain futures elsewhere.

Patients, whom Brown says are his top priority, are as frustrated as ever. While they acknowledge and appreciate the efforts of health professionals amidst this uncertainty, they find it increasingly difficult having to wait weeks to get an appointment with their GP, for example. They are looking despairingly to the government, which promised at election time to sort out Labour’s health reforms, to honour that commitment.

Brown’s primary challenge remains convincing voters before the next election that the government is doing so.

Being a backbench government Member of Parliament is at best a mixed blessing.

On the one hand, there is the excitement of being part of the government team, able to interact with Ministers from the Prime Minister downwards about what the government is doing and generally being “in the know”. Through Caucus committees, government backbenchers can work alongside Ministers on the development of policy ideas which may eventually come to fruition as government policy.

Government backbenchers can also lobby Ministers about issues of particular importance to the electorates or districts they represent and can generally expect, for obvious political reasons, any such representations to be treated more favourably than if they were coming from an Opposition MP. Locally, they can then claim the credit for moves beneficial to their electorates or regions.

But, on the other hand, the ultimate decisions still rest with Ministers and the Cabinet, meaning government backbenchers are often no more than influential supplicants. And because of collective Cabinet responsibility – the doctrine that binds all members of the Executive, including Ministers outside Cabinet and Parliamentary Under-Secretaries to support all Cabinet decisions – the Executive virtually always has the numbers to prevail in any Caucus discussion.

The formation of the Budget each year, and major policy decisions are almost entirely the province of the Cabinet, with backbenchers usually informed of the details after the event. In case of the Budget, government backbenchers are normally briefed on its contents only about an hour before it is delivered in the House – about the same time as senior Opposition MPs are given an embargoed copy in a pre-Budget lock-up, and considerably later than the media whose lock-up begins hours earlier – yet they are expected to support it enthusiastically when it is debated in the House.

It is often a similar process regarding controversial legislation pushed through under Urgency. In what has become the classic but no means only example, in late 1988 Labour MPs were informed at an early morning meeting of Cabinet’s intention to introduce at 9:00 am that morning under Urgency a Bill to make “some minor technical changes” to the way departmental chief executives were appointed – that Bill was the infamous State Sector Act.

Almost certainly, the same process would have been followed with this week’s dramatic and controversial changes to the way pay equity issues are addressed. The fact that this was an ACT-driven initiative adds a further complication to the process. But the surprise that accompanied its announcement suggested as few people as necessary were aware in advance of the plan for obvious security reasons. Government backbenchers were unlikely to have been in this group.

The upshot was that when Parliament resumed this week after a three week recess this legislation was introduced under Urgency, to be passed through all stages as soon as possible without any reference to a select committee or opportunity for public submissions. The Cabinet simply wanted the legislation passed as quickly as possible, to prevent the possibility of any legal or other challenges before the law was changed.  

To do so, it relied on the support of the government backbench for the obligatory occasional brief supportive speeches and the necessary votes in Parliament for it to happen as quickly as possible. As they did so, the backbenchers would have had to endure the usual standard cries of “shame” and outrage from the other side of the House, notwithstanding that they too when in office – like every government – used and will continue to use Urgency in this way to pass controversial legislation.

Over the next few weeks, it will be the government backbench “lobby fodder” that will have to do the lion’s share of facing up and responding to the anger of those adversely affected by this legislation. They will also be the ones challenged to explain why they supported it. Ministers, meanwhile, will have shifted their attention to the Budget due at the end of May. Between now and then, as is customary, there will be an ever-increasing drip-feed of announcements from Ministers about the good things they have secured in this Budget.

But for the government backbenchers, the same old grind will continue. Once they have weathered the storm over the pay equity legislation, they will need to gear up to support and explain the Budget in its entirety, despite having had a similarly minimal input into its development. And all the while they will be focused on convincing their constituents that they are personally having an impact on what the government is doing and are therefore worth re-electing next year.

For some, the motivation will be a noble belief that their government is always right. For others it will be a case of proving their loyalty to the team and willingness to take the good with the bad, in the hope that one day they will become Ministers. Then they really will be able to have a proactive and meaningful impact on what the government is doing.

 

There is an old saying doing the rounds in Rome at present as Cardinals gather to elect a successor to Pope Francis that "he who enters the conclave a Pope, leaves a Cardinal". While the warning has not always been borne out in recent Papal elections, it does have application more widely.

In the wake of this week’s announcements of Andrew Little’s candidacy for the Wellington Mayoralty and Mayor Tory Whanau’s subsequent withdrawal in his favour, there has been a general assumption that the Mayoralty is now Little’s for the taking, notwithstanding that there are other declared candidates in the race and still over five months until the election.

Nominations for election do not open until the start of July, with the final dates for candidates to declare themselves being August 1. There is still plenty of time therefore for other candidates to emerge or for the electoral scene to change to challenge the emerging sense that the Mayoral election will really be Little’s coronation.

Much of the early support for Little has been because he was seen as the best prospect to topple Whanau. Many moderate and centre-right voters were prepared to hold their noses and to support him on this basis. However, it is an open question whether they will continue to do so now that Whanau has withdrawn, or whether they will revert to form and look for a candidate more in tune with their outlook. If that is the case, the broad coalition predicted to build around Little could be over before it started.

There has been much talk that Little’s ability to work across party lines is just what the dysfunctional and divided Wellington City Council needs right now. But that capacity may be over-stated. Early in the term of the previous Labour/New Zealand First government there was a row over Labour’s intention to scrap the Three Strikes law ACT had promoted during the term of the National-led government.

As Minister of Justice, Little publicly announced Labour’s plans without first consulting New Zealand First (which supported Three Strikes), on the grounds that repealing the Three Strikes law was Labour policy and therefore no consultation was required. It was not a good indication that he could work collaboratively across party lines to achieve an agreed policy outcome.

Little has also been described as a safe pair of hands, just the sort of leader Wellington now needs to address its major problems, responsibly and credibly. But it is worth remembering that in Labour’s second term, Little, as Minister of Health, was the author of the 2021 health reforms which abolished district health boards in favour of a central agency, Te Whatu Ora (since renamed Health New Zealand) and Te Aka Whai Ora, the standalone Māori Health Authority which the National-led coalition abolished on returning to office. 

However, so far, his reforms have not improved the delivery of public health services. Since 2021, the public health service has been bedevilled by ongoing uncertainty about its form and structure; significant staffing shortages across health care professions with no clear plan for filling those gaps, and a continuation of chronic funding shortages.

These examples do not detract from Little’s credibility as a Mayoral candidate, but they do provide a more balanced perspective of his capabilities, in contrast to some of the more inflated claims others are making in support of his Mayoral bid.

As a seasoned politician, Little will understand full well that while his political record will attract scrutiny during the forthcoming Mayoral campaign, his election will depend more on the policy programme he puts forward, and whether that resonates with Wellington voters. He will know that the election is about voters making their choice, not giving him their anointment.

After the dramas of recent years, Wellingtonians want a Mayor and Council that will stick to their knitting and ensure that basic services are efficiently and properly provided. They want rates to be kept as low as possible; an end to social engineering projects like social housing, and vanity projects like cycleways and upgrading the Golden Mile.

Voters will be assessing all candidates on their willingness to make these things happen for the city. Their reputations and experience will be relevant to their capacity to do so.

Although at this stage, Little looks well-placed in this regard, his election should not be accepted as a foregone conclusion. His plans for the city still need to be outlined, then tested, defended and scrutinised alongside those of other candidates during the campaign. Only then will it become clear whether he is the best choice to lead Wellington.

Right now, the last thing Little wants is to enter the campaign looking like a Mayor but ending up a private citizen. It is a message some of his more enthusiastic media and other backers should take on board.

A tense and intriguing political chess game is being played out in Parliament's Privileges Committee at present. It is a game none of those involved can afford to lose, yet inevitably someone will.

On the face of it, the issue at hand is whether the spontaneous haka performed by three Te Pati Māori MPs during the vote on the First Reading of the Treaty Principles Bill last year was a breach of what is quaintly referred to as Parliamentary Privilege.

The concept of Parliamentary Privilege dates back hundreds of years and devolves from the procedures of Britain’s House of Commons devised to enable Members to speak freely in Parliament without fear of legal consequences or loss of freedoms (or their heads at that time). Anyone who inhibits in any way Members of Parliament from freely expressing their opinions in Parliament or going about their normal Parliamentary business is in breach of Parliamentary Privilege and is therefore subject to the judgement of the Privileges Committee – effectively Parliament’s court – for their actions.

In this instance, the allegation before the Committee is that by performing a haka while the vote was being taken on the Treaty Principles Bill, the Te Pati Māori MPs were disrupting the free expression of Parliament’s views on the Bill at that time and were therefore breaching Privilege.

However, the issue now runs more deeply than that. Te Pati Māori’s ill-informed dismissal of what it calls Parliament’s “silly little rules” about Privilege, potentially poses an even greater challenge to the system. They say their actions highlight Parliament’s lack of recognition of tikanga, and that simply must change.

On the other hand, Parliament’s Speaker Gerry Brownlee in a somewhat rare and unusual intervention on a matter still under consideration by the Privileges Committee has described Te Pati Māori’s position as “complete nonsense.” He says a distinction must be drawn between Parliament’s rules and procedures and upholding tikanga.

Brownlee says separate work is already underway through the cross-party Standing Orders Committee to see how tikanga can be more fully integrated into Parliament’s rules, with a report due before the end of this term of Parliament. For that reason, he dismisses Te Pati Māori’s haka actions as “grandstanding”.

But Te Pati Māori rejects the notion that the broader work around tikanga should be treated separately from the haka protest. According to co-leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer the question of tikanga was central to the three MPs’ decision to perform the haka. Therefore, she argues, they must stand up to the Privileges Committee, which she fears wants to “criminalise the haka and criminalise our tikanga” by finding against them.

For its part, the Privileges Committee will want to steer a careful course. The Committee is made up of senior MPs from all parties and is chaired by the Attorney-General Judith Collins who is also a KC. Its focus will be on whether the three MPs’ actions breached Parliamentary Privilege, and if it finds so, what sanctions should be imposed on them. The committee is unlikely to delve too deeply into the wider question of tikanga, leaving that to the Standing Orders committee work already underway.

Should the committee conclude the three MPs have breached Privilege, the delicate issue will be what sanction it recommends Parliament should impose. For the sake of Parliament’s integrity and credibility any penalty should be significant – it cannot look like a slap with a wet bus ticket. However, at the same time, it cannot be unreasonable, which would simply inflame the current situation further and embolden Te Pati Māori’s line that it is the victim of a repressive, racist system. In short, Collins and her committee are going to have to apply a judgment of Solomon.

What is at stake here is the credibility of the body of Parliamentary practice and the protections of Privilege built up over hundreds of years. Therefore, the Privileges Committee cannot act in a way that could be interpreted as arbitrarily weakening that long-standing strong tradition for contemporary political convenience. Should it do so, the institution of Parliament will be the loser.

Ironically, the situation is a little easier for Te Pati Māori. An adverse finding from the Privileges Committee would certainly be a blow to the Party’s credibility to work within the system (in the same way as is its ongoing failure to provide proper accounts to the Electoral Commission in breach of the law). At the same time, however, it would confirm Te Pati Māori’s narrative that the whole system is geared against them, and that in Ngarewa-Packer’s words “This is the cost of standing up. We’ve had this before, and, you know, we just have to pay it again.”

In the end, the issue is less about the Treaty Principles Bill haka, which is sideshow puffery, than it is about achieving a reasonable balance between Parliament’s historical traditions and contemporary tikanga. That will only be achieved through constructive engagement by all sides, not more of the game-playing seen so far.