Mahia i runga i te rangimārie me te ngākau māhaki: Ratana and the Devolution Deals

24/1/2024

Yesterday, I decided to take the advice of my whanaunga – The Most Reverend Don Tamihere – and listen to the speeches at Ratana through sympathetic, charitable and compassionate ears.

And, I am glad I did. Not just because I truly believe mahia i runga i te rangimārie me te ngākau māhaki, but because what was most important at Ratana was tōtika i waenga i te korero me te waiata.

While some of the korero was on fire, the waiata kept reminding us that it is with a peaceful heart and sharp minds we always get the best results.

So it is with those waiata in my heart and guiding my mind that I offer these reflections.

We live in one of the most challenging moments in the history of this country.

If you are watching what is happening globally, you will have all come to terms with the fact that democracies are rare and surprisingly short-lived phenomena.

While there is a prized notion of people living lives of dignity because of our collective decision-making and shared efforts and investments in public institutions that support everyone’s life opportunities – it is also proving to be a difficult-to-sustain notion in late-stage capitalism.

Indeed, almost every nation that has attempted to forge and sustain its public institutions eventually confronts three fundamental realities: a breakdown in social cohesion, a loss of trust in those institutions, and an inability of those institutions to deliver for everyone, not just the few.

While I think we are skirting dangerously close to these three realities, I heard something in the Government speeches at Ratana yesterday that has given me pause for thought.

Make no mistake; I think Te Tiriti, Crown-Māori relationships and poverty are explosive issues not just because bad-faith actors run some of the debate.

They are explosive because we have not, as a nation, developed the skills to have these public conversations in candid, respectful or informed ways – yet.

They are also explosive issues because they strike at the heart of our little, energised, if not somewhat ear-splitting, democracy.

They raise serious questions about why the promise of good government in article one of the Te Tiriti has failed to address the plight, predicament, and troubles of the most vulnerable members of our communities.

In my view, intergenerational poverty generates despair that creates conflict, which bad-faith actors then harness; our public services deliver centralised products for the few and not the many, which in turn produces levels of distrust that reinforce cultural division; our cost-benefit analysis tools fail to account for the actual burden of cost passed onto those least able to pay, which in turn reduces the opportunity of access as well as the effectiveness of public services.

But, unlike others who listened to the speeches at Ratana yesterday, I was not bored. In fact, I heard a few things that heartened and surprised me and have gotten me thinking.

Hon Tama Potaka has the most challenging role of anyone right now: there go we all but for the grace of the atua. Whether you like him or not, or whether you value the work he is doing, you cannot deny how hard he is working to bring the values of Te Tiriti alive among his colleagues and how difficult that space is: Tēnā rawa atu koe e Tama, he toka tū moana i tō mahi. Nāu i ora ai ngā kawa o Te Tiriti. Yesterday, he spoke with clarity, and he moved with dignity. He reminded us all that we have an obligation to exercise our own rangatiratanga on a daily basis, and it does not come from a document signed by some of our chiefs.

Hon Shane Jones was at his linguistic finest. He reminded everyone that the nation has some serious korero ahead of it and that korero needs to be done in a tikanga-based way: and that hurling insults would not help. He also reminded everyone that the discussion and debate will take time. He’s absolutely right. We are in an interregnum. Our little nation is coming to terms with its past and trying to chart a future that leaves us better off today than we were yesterday. In the words of Rahera Kaiwhakangau “It won’t happen overnight, but it WILL happen”.

Rt Hon Winston Peters centred Ratana. He reminded everyone that even though he had not always agreed with the positions Ratana had taken, he had always turned up because it was the right thing to do. You might not like the things that Matua Winston stands for and worry about who voted for him, but in his own words: he’s back. And no one can deny that his words are not backed up by action.

The most important speech was from the Prime Minister. He opened with a mihi. It was simple. Modest. And appropriate. Then, he walked us through how he is going to approach being in government and what te reo Māori means to him.

It was a revealing speech that everyone participating in this debate ought to read.

The Prime Minister reconfirmed that he has no plan, and never has had plans, to amend or revise the Treaty or any of the Treaty settlements that have been achieved so far.

He also indicated that devolution is one of his key policy planks.

In the context of Te Tiriti and the Māori/Crown relationship, that is quite something.

Devolution is the process of transferring powers from the heart of Westminster to sub-state nations. In the United Kingdom, the process was originally captured in the Scotland Act 1998, the Government of Wales Act 1998 and the Northern Ireland Act 1998.

Right now, devolution sits at the heart of the Tory “levelling up” policy programme. It sees various combinations of administrative, executive, regulatory and legislative powers being transferred from Whitehall to local institutions. In the UK it is an asymmetric system, in so much as different communities have decided on different forms of devolution and varying degrees of power.

Again, listening through the ears of empathy and justice, devolution offers Te Ao institutions the potential to build autonomous sub-nation-state entities. While it is not the exercise of rangatiratanga as imagined in article two of Te Tiriti, and the delegated powers will not be sovereign, my overriding sense of the speech by the Prime Minister is that he sees devolution as one of the best chances of keeping our democratic experiment alive.

And to be honest, I agree with him. If we don’t reset the Poneketanga, our little democracy will be weaker for it. That is because demands for autonomy are not going to go away. And because our devolved affairs conversation is long overdue. Also, the current model of keeping control nested on the Terrace is not working: we need something radically different.

I worked on a potential city deal post-quake in Ōtautahi. The benefits of putting decision-making closer where the work is done and outcomes are achieved were huge. The operational savings were also significant. And, while yes, mana motuhake at a whānau level is essential, wouldn’t it also be great if every Iwi or Hapū or local authority who wants a devolution deal with powers at or approaching the highest level of devolution was able to have one: with the usual caveats of course: members agree, the arrangements are accountable, simple, and long-term funding arrangements are on the table as well.

No Prime Minister has offered devolution in my lifetime.

While other commentators suggested the speech was beige, I heard something quite different. I hope that the policy signal on devolution does not get lost in the heat and noise of the upcoming debate at Waitangi. Otherwise, much like the last government’s approach to equity, it will be lost in the theatrics and performance of equity in meetings on The Terrace rather than substantive on-the-ground change.

Let’s also remind ourselves to keep listening to one another through warm hearts and open minds. If you can’t, maybe ensure your kai-manu has a waiata rangimārie ready to go.