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A snow-capped mountain reflected in a calm lake, with wispy clouds in a clear purple sky. Wavy patterns frame the image, enhancing an ethereal and serene atmosphere.
Taranaki maunga (Image design: Tina Tiller)

ĀteaFebruary 17, 2025

Legal personhood for Taranaki: transformative or tokenistic?

A snow-capped mountain reflected in a calm lake, with wispy clouds in a clear purple sky. Wavy patterns frame the image, enhancing an ethereal and serene atmosphere.
Taranaki maunga (Image design: Tina Tiller)

Is humanising a mountain the path to real transformation, or does it signal the need for a cultural paradigm shift in the operating system?

Recently, a family member shared their delight at the news of Taranaki Maunga becoming a legal person.

Of course, I was pleased for the eight Taranaki iwi. We should acknowledge progress in addressing historical Tiriti grievances, even if granting legal personality to an entity is a relatively small step – arguably the least the Crown can do. For those familiar with these issues, the question remains: will this recognition lead to meaningful change? Personally, I have only ever known or referred to the maunga as “Taranaki”.

At the same time, this news prompted deeper reflection. While legal personhood can serve as a tool for environmental protection, many Indigenous peoples find it problematic. It has its critics – including myself, as I have expressed in international indigenous human rights and environmental defender forums.

Indigenous perspectives on nature are deeply rooted in spiritual and kinship connections, guided by values such as respect, intergenerational responsibility, and mauri. Western legal constructs struggle to accommodate these values – more often than not, they fail entirely. These constructs are grounded in a colonial framework designed for control and exploitation, maintaining a dynamic where a powerful minority dictates terms over both nature and the vast majority of humanity. Legal personhood oversimplifies indigenous cosmological relationships. From a Māori perspective, natural entities such as maunga are tuakana – our evolved, senior kin.

It is, therefore, both ironic and audacious to impose upon them a legal framework originally designed for teina – junior kin, in this case, humans. Instead, we should aspire to elevate our own values and actions to align with the guardianship principles of our atua, ensuring that manaakitanga and kaitiakitanga are embedded in all that we do. If this became New Zealand’s norm, the colonisers’ so-called protective laws and regulations would be rendered unnecessary.

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Anna Rawhiti-Connell
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As it stands, legal personhood for Taranaki Maunga could serve as convenient greenwashing and indigenous-washing, allowing the state to appear ethical while continuing to perpetuate its colonial agenda. This move may be largely symbolic, a tokenistic gesture. A legal test case could potentially argue that degradation of the maunga’s mauri – through biodiversity loss or ecosystem destruction – is akin to “homicide” or a violation of human rights, such as the right to life or self-determination.

Yet, even humans struggle to defend their own rights within a so-called justice system that is structurally incapable of protecting what we value. Western legal systems emphasise rights while largely ignoring obligations – a separate but critical conversation. The real proof of their failure is the unfolding meta-crisis around us. If colonial legal frameworks were effective, we wouldn’t be witnessing the ecological collapse currently under way. It is likely that legal personhood, despite its symbolic significance, will face the same systemic barriers.

A more transformative approach for Aotearoa would be cultural change, whether led by the government or civil society. Several actions could drive this shift. First, an honest and compulsory school curriculum should include an accurate history of Māori-Crown relations, the true meaning of te Tiriti (not the distorted interpretations of reactionary politicians), and a deep integration of te reo me ōna tikanga. A strong civics education would also empower people to understand their rights and responsibilities as citizens. Secondly, constitutional transformation is essential. This could involve entrenching He Whakaputanga and te Tiriti, safeguarding environmental protections, affirming human rights, and ensuring that corporate interests do not override these principles.

One positive outcome from the disastrous Treaty principles bill – described by the Aotearoa Liberation League as a rehash of the Act Party’s 2005 bill (zombie ideas, it seems, are hard to kill) – is that it has sparked a national conversation. People are now debating the true interpretation of te Tiriti, the urgent need for constitutional transformation, and its vital role in environmental protection and restoration. If enough people in Aotearoa embrace this moment and push for change, we may finally turn the tide.

Keep going!
A split image features two serious-looking individuals on each side. In the center, soldiers raise a flag with the logo resembling a "One New Zealand" emblem in a monochromatic red-toned scene reminiscent of a famous historical photo.
Chris Luxon and David Seymour. (Design: Liam Rātana)

PoliticsFebruary 12, 2025

The opportunity for penance in privatisation

A split image features two serious-looking individuals on each side. In the center, soldiers raise a flag with the logo resembling a "One New Zealand" emblem in a monochromatic red-toned scene reminiscent of a famous historical photo.
Chris Luxon and David Seymour. (Design: Liam Rātana)

Could iwi and hapū be the unexpected solution to the government’s asset dilemma?

David Seymour pressured the prime minister into an unwelcome conversation, and in the couple of weeks since the Act leader raised the issue in his state of the nation speech, privatisation has shifted from absent in the growth agenda to “open for discussion” long term, to the Treasury now reportedly reviewing state assets and management options.

Former prime minister John Key waded into the conversation, saying there was “not a hell of a lot to sell”. This is, of course, is against the backdrop that in 2013, Key’s government sold 49% of the Crown’s holdings in power companies Meridian Energy, Genesis and Mighty River Power (now Mercury) to investors. But as NZ Herald’s Claire Trevett put it, “[Key] had the political capital to do it and he took the time to do it. Luxon has time but does not have the same capital.”

Which turns us to the unashamed politics of this discussion. While the soon-to-be deputy prime minister has forced the prime minister’s hand, the current deputy prime minister, Winston Peters, is proudly reaffirming that he has spent his whole political career “ensuring that our assets stay in our possession”. NZ First’s enduring view is that state-owned assets belong to all New Zealanders.

So what is a prime minister to do?

Despite being thrust into a conversation that doesn’t seem like a high priority, the privatisation debate presents National a unique opportunity to pacify both coalition parties while upholding a commitment to its own values of limited government and recognition of the Treaty of Waitangi as the founding document of New Zealand.

In a serious conversation about privatisation of state-owned assets that are retained onshore, there is no better partner for the Crown than the partner it already has – iwi/hapū Māori. If Act is serious about privatisation, then it needn’t look further than its leader’s own iwi, Ngāpuhi.

The government has already made clear that reaching a settlement with Ngāpuhi is a high priority, but the form of that settlement is likely to be a challenge. In October, Te Rau Allen-Arena, chair of Ngāpuhi hapū Te Whiu, told Treaty negotiations minister Paul Goldsmith that Ngāpuhi should get $8.43bn in redress. For a government that slashed $3.9bn of government expenditure in its first year, with savings estimated to be $23bn over four years, cash compensation of that size is an improbability of the highest order – even before you consider the need for relativity across settlements.

David Seymour in a suit reading a newspaper against a background split into two sections. The left section is red with what appears to be a stormy texture, while the right section is blue with a similar stormy texture.
David Seymour (Image: Tina Tiller)

Instead, Seymour’s apparent insatiable lust for a conversation on privatisation has had the unintended consequence of elucidating the need for the Crown to place greater assets on the table when working towards settlement with Ngāpuhi.

Former Treaty negotiations minister Christopher Finlayson has said that sometimes he needed to push the boundaries in Treaty settlements when dealing with natural resources. I say the time has come for National to be bold once again.

Tupu Tonu to one side, there are ample assets in the north that the Crown could divest from, helping to reach a settlement that goes much further than cash.

Take Northpower Fibre Limited. The Crown has a single shareholding in the organisation, because it was established as a local fibre company by virtue of the government-led ultra-fast broadband programme. There is no denying this public-private partnership has been an overwhelming success, and with Ngāpuhi and Northpower sharing geographical interests, we have a prime example of where privatisation could be used for mutual benefit.

Another example is NorthTec, which is currently a business division of Te Pūkenga. The government has already said it is supporting the return of vocational education decision-making to the regions by amending the Education and Training Act 2020 to disestablish Te Pūkenga, and will support technology and polytechnics to be established as autonomous entities. Carving a place for NorthTec to be a joint venture between the Crown and Ngāpuhi as part of the Treaty settlement could help ensure Te Tai Tokerau grows the skills that iwi and hapū leaders already know they need.

Or take the government’s recently released minerals strategy, which identifies three minerals of potential in the north: gold, sulphur and lithium. Toitū Te Whenua manages over two million hectares of land on behalf of the Crown. It makes sense that where economic opportunity relating to mineral production exists in land in the north that is currently under stewardship of the Crown, a right of first refusal (in the absence of returning that land) for permits and consents could be made to Ngāpuhi.

It takes zero political will to sell an asset to the highest bidder, but it takes enormous circumspection to entertain privatisation through the lens of penance for one’s own goal – the Principles of the Treaty of Waitangi Bill.

For a prime minister with a penchant for a good “turnaround”, what better turnaround of Māori and Crown relations than being the prime minister who dared to set a course for productive asset privatisation through iwi/hapū Māori?

After all, if devolution is a government priority, there is nothing more devolved than returning parts of the Crown’s asset base to those whose suffering helped build the asset base in the first place.

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Madeleine Chapman
— Editor