With a new monarch in London, New Zealand has a new head of state. Readers may still be feeling awed by the coronation, including the anointment, inspired by King Solomon’s in 1 Kings 1, accompanied by Handel’s 1727 anthem ‘Zadok the Priest’. Some may ask why we hang on to this colonial constitutional arrangement.
A survey of the 15 countries that have Charles III as head of state revealed that New Zealanders aren’t of a mind right now to end it and become a republic. But they’re pretty lukewarm about the status quo. Only 35% agreed that ‘the monarchy is beneficial for New Zealand’, while 45% said it makes no difference and 18% thought it was bad for the country.
But it’s a matter that most Kiwis would rather leave till another day. Those who may be open to change say there are more important things to think about at the moment, or they worry about the process of change and whether the alternative would be any better. Those are fair concerns.
But this doesn’t prevent us from thinking ahead about it. And, because the British monarch does practically nothing in terms of government, New Zealand is already effectively operating as a republic anyway.
Paul Simon said there are 50 ways to leave your lover, and there must be as many ways to leave the royal family. So, what’s the simple, pragmatic, least painful and eminently Kiwi way?
New Zealand doesn’t have a written constitution but, for political legitimacy, there’d have to be a referendum. Parliament could pass an Act that sets up the change, but that comes into force only on approval by a majority in a binding referendum.
The Act could say that, at the end of the term of the current Governor General (GG), the British monarch (and successors) are no longer NZ’s head of state. The practical functions of the sovereign have, for many decades, been performed in NZ by the GG anyway, but the next GG would become formally the head of state.
By present conventions, the GG is a distinguished New Zealander who’s appointed by the monarch on the recommendation of the prime minister. So, if NZ removed the monarch, how would the GG be appointed? The simple answer is: by a majority of the House, on a motion moved by the prime minister. That would be more open and transparent than the current process.
As the GG has only a politically neutral constitutional role, he/she needn’t be elected at large. It’s not a policy-making executive presidential role. NZ could continue to have a head of state who’s ‘above’ politics and who doesn’t undergo a popularity contest to get the office.
The GG would appoint ministers and sign off laws and regulations, as at present, acting on the advice of ministers. In that respect, the current conventions and norms would remain in place. Ministers would still be ‘responsible advisers’ to the sovereign who, in return, acts on their advice.
A section in the Act would affirm that the government of New Zealand continues to accept its Treaty obligations as before. Again, nothing changes. And NZ could remain a member of the British Commonwealth too. Most of the states that belong to the Commonwealth are republics.
It needn’t be a big deal, and that’s the simplest way, as far as I can see. There are at least 49 other ways. But no, you can’t dump the royals by text message!
The big political news last week was the defection of former minister Meka Whaitiri from Labour to Te Pāti Māori. That shock move has already been well analysed by others, so I won’t go over it again. But no one (least of all Whaitiri herself) has yet given an explanation for the switch that rests on ethically or politically principled motives. Her thwated political ambitions do seem to have had something to do with it, on the other hand.
It’s not even clear whether she fell foul of the ‘waka-jumping’ provisions in the Electoral Act that, strictly speaking, would mean she vacates her seat. Transparent observance of the electoral law is at stake here!
Whaitiri’s betrayal didn’t play well for Labour, of course, and the right sang the ‘rats leaving the sinking ship’ line. It doesn’t play well for Te Pāti Māori either, as it looks like unprincipled poaching.
Although Whaitiri won the seat of Ikaroa-Rāwhiti for Labour by more than 6,000 votes in 2020, it can’t be assumed that she’ll retain it in October. A lot will depend on whom Labour puts forward as a competitor – at relatively short notice – and on how the voters in that electorate interpret their sitting MP’s motives and ethics.
Vote-splitting in the Māori electorates is very common, and so Whaitiri may get a loyalty vote as local candidate from people who’ll place their party vote with Labour (which was way ahead in that electorate in 2020).
Ikaroa-Rāwhiti is now on the ‘watch closely’ list for election night, along with Ilam.
National’s leader Christopher Luxon was quick to say that he would not work with Te Pāti Māori after the election, and so there’s a Labour/Green/Māori bloc, as far as he’s concerned.
Te Pāti Māori risk painting themselves into a corner: National won’t work with them because of their policies, and now they’ve harmed their relationship with Labour. That’s not setting themselves up for the role of kingmaker, despite their confident prediction that that’s exactly what they’ll be. A kingmaker plays one side off against the other in post-electoral government-formation negotiations. TPM’s alienation of both of the major parties that could be in a position to lead a government has arisen from two unforced tactical errors.
As if that weren’t enough, on Saturday morning the co-leaders of the Green Party had to endure cross-examination by the press over an internal investigation that led to the resignation of Green MP Dr Elizabeth Kerekere.
If Labour and the Greens want to form a coalition government after the election, they’ll need disciplined caucuses that support their leaders to talk about their policies and values, not their internal problems. The Greens got a relatively good poll result of 12% in April, and they won’t want to blow it.
Labour has a Budget to present to the House on the 18th, and I’ll be writing more about this.