KEY POINTS:
Race Relations Commissioner Joris de Bres' call for a Maori Parliament or Council of Elders reflects widespread Maori dissatisfaction about local and central government consultative processes.
It is fashionable to consult Maori and such hui are numerous, but the 1995 Fiscal Envelope, 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act and
the 2008 deadline on the submission of Treaty of Waitangi claims show that many hui are inconclusive.
Others ignore Maori opinion in favour of pre-determined conclusions, and there are some striking absences on really big issues.
The explanations aren't new. There is the legacy of colonial bureaucracy that operated to dismantle Maori social structures in order to rob them of their resources. A continuation of that, mainly out of habit, kept Maori disconnected and weakened.
Maori Trust Boards were constrained by so much red tape that the compulsory audits they had to pay for sometimes cost more than the annuities they were designed to check.
Until recently, Maori were prevented from nominating members of Te Ohu Kai Moana (The Maori Fisheries Commission) and Te Mango Paho (The Maori Broadcasting Commission) and the Waitangi Tribunal.
There is a cultural reluctance to empower Maori as co-equals and prejudiced governments sometimes blame the complexity of multiple Maori tribal polities.
This ignores that the Maori-funded 1890s Kotahitanga Parliament and 1990s Maori Congress were ultimately ineffective because the Crown ignored them for being too representative.
Making consultation more real and accountable is about empowering Maori voices so they properly contribute to a mutually beneficial multicultural future.
Much could be achieved by expanding the roles of existing organisations. Tribal groups have a CEOs' forum; the National Maori Urban Authority provides a similar forum for non-tribal groupings; the Federation of Maori Authorities does similar; and occasional gatherings under the banners of economic development, education, health, te reo, broadcasting and so on, have a role.
In a regional electoral context, an answer lies in expanding the scheme in which the Bay of Plenty Regional Council, Environment Bay of Plenty, and the Rotorua and Whakatane district councils reserve two to three Maori seats, proportionate to their Maori electorates. This should reach other regions, cities and towns, say with Maori populations greater than 10 per cent. These successful initiatives have overcome historically low Maori participation by making mono-cultural local structures more relevant.
The Crown might also grant tribal governance structures the status of local bodies and fund them as Canada did recently with the Nisga'a and Inuit Nunavut settlements in British Columbia and Hudson Bay.
Outside an elected body at a national level, a council of chiefs or elders, perhaps chaired by the Kingitanga and/or Te Heuheu dynasties, would be a powerful advocate for Maori. Such a group would have to be tribally non-partisan and strictly an advocate for Maori rather than a functionary of the state.
Expanding the New Zealand Maori Council might be useful. Established in the 1950s and intended to represent Maori views, it's had limited impact because of the 17 districts that cut across the tribal topography of Maoridom, it has no powers beyond advice and its budget is restricted to $200,000 a year and one paid administrator in Wellington.
Contrast this with the Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Commission (ATSIC) with a $A400 million ($456 million) annual budget and devolved powers in education, health, social and cultural services.
The Canadian Assembly of First Nations (AFN) operates similarly and through an extensive and sophisticated political network operates as a powerful advocate for its indigenous constituents.
The idea of a Maori Parliament has been mooted before; opinions differ about its role. Moderates will favour something like the Sami Laplander Parliaments in Norway, Sweden and Finland. Similar to ATSIC and the AFN, but with closer proximity to the centre of power, they provide advice and govern some indigenous policy.
Radicals will argue for an upper house with a Treaty mandate to veto legislation on the basis that the 1835 Declaration of Independence recognised a Maori sovereignty that the Treaty of Waitangi never ceded. Historical accuracy aside, such an argument risks replacing a tyranny by the Pakeha majority with one by a minority.
The debate requires reconsideration of the Maori seats. Recent events have highlighted the effectiveness of the independent Maori MPs in these seats and the impotency of Maori MPs embedded in mainstream Pakeha parties. There is clear vindication not only to retain them but to change the formula to increase their number.
Fixing an initial figure, based on the fact that Maori are 15 per cent of the national population would give a "potential maximum" of 18 seats out of 120.
Adjusting that figure according to the proportion of Maori voters on the Maori roll - 57 per cent - would give Maori 11 seats from the potential maximum.
Prohibiting a reduction whenever this figure was reviewed would protect the future voice of younger Maori generations, who are a greater percentage of their generation than their parents, while guarding against the demographic swamping of the tangata whenua voice through immigration.
If there were a Maori Parliament, someone from Ngapuhi ought to lead it. Ngapuhi were the first tribe to adopt the Bible, systematically import muskets, sign the Treaty of Waitangi, and storm a Pakeha settlement (Kororareka-Russell).
They were, therefore, the first to provide the country with the four prerequisite conditions necessitating civilised cross-cultural consultation - religion, guns, a constitutional instrument and lots of ongoing strife.
* Dr Rawiri Taonui is Head of the School of Maori and Indigenous Studies at the University of Canterbury.
