Imagine a twenty-first century piece of software trying to run on a twentieth-century computer, and you have a fair
picture of the New Zealand democratic system.
We live in a world of greatly expanded human potential, and expectation. People are so much more literate, and have
access to so much more information, than they did a century ago. Younger generations in particular are much less
deferential to authority; they have much greater expectations of being involved in decisions that affect them. Most of
us receive from private companies an unprecedented level of personalised service – online, just in time, targeted,
responsive.
Yet our democratic systems have not caught up. They are not deeply responsive to our voice as citizens in the same way
that markets (often) are to our choices as consumers. They rely too heavily on elected representatives to take decisions
on our behalf, when we are clearly capable of taking more of them directly ourselves, or at least being more deeply
engaged in the process.
Our ‘involvement’ often consists of little more than filling out boxes in consultations about decisions that have
already been made. Very little is done to bring citizens together to discuss issues intelligently, to bring to the
surface the wisdom of the crowd in a way that might directly influence politics.
Our systems are also inadequate to Māori demands for sovereignty. Māori thinkers are arguing with increasing force that
twentieth-century institutions – the Waitangi Tribunal, greater consultation by the Crown, and so on – are equally
inadequate to the task of ensuring they exercise tino rangatiratanga, or genuine sovereignty over their affairs. These
institutions do not genuinely transfer power and control over key decisions.
Protester with the Tino Rangatiratanga flag at a protesthikoi against theforeshore and seabed bill in 2004. Wikiwand
For all that, a new democratic world is being born – albeit largely in the minds of intellectuals rather than in
concrete reality. The Matike Mai project, led by Moana Jackson and Margaret Mutu between 2010 and 2015, looked at the constitutional arrangements needed to
genuinely honour Te Tiriti. It suggested we might need three ‘spheres’ of governance: a rangatiratanga sphere where
Māori make decisions for Māori, a kāwanatanga sphere where the Crown in Parliament makes decisions for Pākehā, and a
relational sphere to govern how these two peoples work together on joint issues.
Ideas for reinvigorating Pākehā government, meanwhile, abound. Local councils could engage in participatory budgeting,
putting up a proportion of their new capital spending budget for residents to discuss deeply – whether in person or
online – and then allocate themselves. Government could create deeply democratic forums online, using software like
Loomio or Polis, to allow citizens to rapidly respond to events and find consensus policies to implement. This isn’t a
pipe dream: it already happens in Taiwan and elsewhere.
Government could also follow a Finnish model and create a site where anyone can suggest a new law that, if it receives 50,000 signatures, goes before Parliament to
be debated just like a Member’s Bill. Government could also get on the rising wave of global citizens assemblies, forums
in which a representative group of ordinary citizens are brought together to discuss issues deeply without partisan
divides, reflect on the evidence, and come up with consensus solutions. France has just held – and promised to implement the recommendations of – such an assembly on climate change.
Participants in the French Citizens Assembly on Climate Change
All these forums would, of course, have to be adapted to fit local conditions and respect tino rangatiratanga. But their
potential to support a form of democracy fit for the twenty-first century is enormous. Under an overarching approach
that guarantees Māori sovereignty, we could augment our current representative democracy with a kind of democracy that
is both participatory and deliberative – based, that is, on deep discussion among citizens.
Sadly, though, such an approach seems a long way out of reach. We are close to a general election, but our political
parties have shown little sign of understanding the need to do politics differently. The Māori Party may be demanding
that, for instance, one-quarter of all government project funding in the next two years be directed to Māori organisations. But it looks unlikely to make it into power, and the major parties are silent on such approaches.
A similar fate probably awaits TOP, which continues to promote its 2017 ‘Democracy Reset’, a package that includes a new Upper House of Parliament with equal Māori-Pākehā representation and a commitment to
use “collaborative software, participatory budgeting and citizen’s juries/assemblies”. These are all exciting ideas, but
the party is currently struggling to break 1% in the polls, let alone 5%.
The Green Party, meanwhile, is promising a Crown response to the Matike Mai report, “including the goal of constitutional transformation by 2040”. It wants to
set up a citizens’ assembly to determine how political donations – a major threat to the integrity of the New Zealand
political system – should be regulated. And it would provide “greater transparency” about political lobbying and remove
barriers to the establishment of Māori electoral wards. All of which is laudable, and necessary – but even supposing the
Greens get to be in government again, what chance do they have a getting these pledges into a coalition agreement with a
conservatively-minded Labour Party?
After all, we cannot necessarily look to Labour, or its major counterpart National, for good policy in this area – or in
some cases any policy at all. As has been widely debated in recent days, we run the risk of a policy-free or at least policy-light election. Admittedly, National has already promised more
roads and greater incentives for small businesses, while Labour has started to make announcements following its campaign
launch last weekend. But if there is to be relatively little policy released beyond those meagre offerings, it is highly
unlikely that anything significant will be said on doing democracy differently, a subject that has seldom been a
priority for a major New Zealand political party.
There are occasional flashes of hope. Although participatory democracy can be a hard sell, because it involves
politicians giving up some power in the short-term in order to gain trust long-term, open government – which involves
handing over information, not decision-making rights – can be easier to do. Accordingly, Andrew Little has recently
promised that Labour would, if re-elected, rewrite the Official Information Act, a long-overdue reform. He has, however,
given few details about how this would work and whether the public would – as befits an open government law – be deeply
involved. The Green Party, which has likewise promised to “reform” the act, might be able to guarantee that this is so.
But as yet we have no certainty.
And it is striking that even the Greens, the party most committed to open government, has not put at the heart of its
programme a commitment to doing politics differently, focusing instead on more obvious bread-and-butter issues such as
rivers and climate change. In one sense this is understandable: debates about participatory budgeting and information
laws may be of great interest to policy wonks while barely registering with ordinary voters.
But there is also plenty of global evidence that many people are what political scientists call valence voters – that is, they vote not so much on a party’s promises as their assessment of that party’s character, integrity and
ability to deliver said promises. Pledges to do politics differently – by making it more transparent and more open to
citizens’ direct participation – have a strong potential appeal to such voters. (Providing, of course, that the pledges
are carried out.) Other parties globally – such as Brazil’s Workers Party, which kickstarted participatory budgeting –
have reaped the rewards of a platform based around doing politics differently. In New Zealand, for the most part, that
opportunity sits neglected.
Here are some questions from Max Rashbrooke directed at the political parties of Aotearoa, NZ on the issue of Transitional Democracy:Will you commit to constitutional reform, along the lines envisaged by Matike Mai, by 2040?Will you commit to creating an Open Government Partnership (OGP) Action Plan substantially more ambitious than the
previous ones?Will you commit to a comprehensive review of participation in the political process in your next term?Will you commit to a comprehensive overhaul of the Electoral Act?Will you commit to a comprehensive overhaul of the Official Information Act?Will you commit to holding at least one citizens assembly in the next term?
ScoopCitizen is walking the walk on this participatory democracy through the Transitional Democracy series and our partnership with
NextElection in the lead up to the 2020 election. To find out what we mean by Transitional Democracy, please read this introductory piece.
Sign up to ScoopCitizen now to comment and participate as we develop the conversation on Transitional Democracy in Aotearoa.
Apologies, but some of this page's content can only be viewed on the desktop version of the site.
Apologies, but some of this page's content can only be viewed on the desktop version of the site.
Please support us to expand this conversation with a one-off or regular donation to ScoopCitizen via Press Patron. All funds raised will go towards bringing on more great journalists to cover our CitizenDesks on this issue.