The cynical motives behind Maori representation

The 'first' Maori MP, Tareha Te Moananui (Ngati Kahungunu). Tareha represented the Eastern Maori electorate from 1868 to 1870. He opposed the sale of tribal land at Heretaunga (Hawke's Bay) until he was 'pursued to his hotel in Wellington' by two storekeepers and an interpreter who 'hounded him for three days'. Portrait by Gottfried Lindauer.

The establishment of Maori seats in New Zealand’s Parliament in 1867 tells a story of political calculation rather than progressive idealism. Understanding this history provides crucial context for today’s debates about Maori wards in local government.

In 1867, New Zealand’s political landscape was dominated by South Island interests. Dunedin, riding the gold rush wave, had become the country’s largest city. The European population stood at approximately 250,000, while the Maori population numbered around 56,000. The South Island’s goldfields attracted thousands of miners who, as landowners, qualified to vote under the property franchise that restricted voting to male landowners worth £25 or more.

This created an unexpected political dynamic. Maori men who held land communally could theoretically vote in large numbers, particularly in the North Island where they remained the majority in many electorates. North Island settlers, already outnumbered by their South Island counterparts and competing for political influence, feared being overwhelmed by Maori voters in their own constituencies.

The solution was cynically brilliant: create four separate Maori seats. This effectively quarantined Maori political influence while appearing progressive. With 72 general seats for 250,000 Europeans versus four Maori seats for 56,000 Maori, the arrangement ensured systematic under-representation. The Native Land Court’s individualization of Maori land titles would have qualified more Maori to vote in general electorates, making the separate seats a tool of marginalization rather than empowerment.

Ironically, Maori men became the first to receive “one man, one vote” status in 1867, as all Maori males over 21 could vote for the Maori seats regardless of property ownership. However, this came with a catch – they could only vote for Maori seats, not general electorates.

  The parallel between North-South Island rivalry and land confiscation cannot be overlooked. While the South Island prospered from gold, the North Island’s wars and land shortages led to systematic confiscation of productive Maori land, redistributed to soldiers and militia as payment for service. The Maori seats, far from protecting Maori interests, facilitated this dispossession by limiting Maori political influence during crucial decades of land alienation.

The political landscape shifted dramatically by the 1881 election, when universal male suffrage was extended to all men over 21, eliminating property requirements for European voters. This election marked a turning point: the North Island’s non-Maori population finally surpassed the South Island’s. It was also the election that brought shame to New Zealand politics. With recent electoral boundary changes, the Maori passive resistance village of Parihaka was included in the same electorate held by John Bryce, who would become Native Minister in 1882. Bryce orchestrated the invasion of Parihaka in November 1881, just weeks before the election. The peaceful resisters were imprisoned without trial in South Island jails, including Dunedin – a calculated electoral stunt that removed potential opposition while demonstrating “strong” governance to settlers hungry for Maori land.

Fast forward to 1996, and MMP transformed Maori representation. The Maori seats became proportional to enrolment, growing from four to the current seven. This system has elevated Maori issues to national prominence in ways the fixed four-seat arrangement never could. Today, 297,382 of 520,569 enrolled Maori voters have chosen the Maori roll – a clear statement of continued relevance.

The Local Government Act 2002 expanded council responsibilities beyond core infrastructure into areas affecting cultural values. Whether addressing subdivisions near wahi tapu, sewage plant locations, or development of culturally significant landscapes, councils now make decisions with profound impacts on Maori communities, often without Maori input.

Critics argue that decision-makers shouldn’t be appointed based on race. This misframes the issue. Under MMP, Maori voters decide whether separate representation serves their interests – not the majority that marginalized them for over a century. The enrolment numbers speak volumes: Maori seats remain valued and utilized.

If Maori wards are established in local government, they should follow the MMP model – proportionate representation based on enrolment. Let Maori communities decide their value through participation. After 156 years of others determining what’s best for Maori representation, perhaps it’s time to let Maori choose for themselves.

The choice is simple: use it or lose it. But that choice belongs to Maori, not to those who’ve benefited from their exclusion.