Minister of Justice Paul Goldsmith wrote to the Waitangi Tribunal last week telling them his Treaty principles reform decisions were ‘political in nature and a product of political process’. He seemed to be hoping the Tribunal might understand this as context for his hurried, flawed policy making process on what his government refers to as a Treaty matter.

But in their eagerness to please Winston Peters before the 2026 election, both Goldsmith and Chrisopher Luxon have fallen into the ‘target trap’.

The Treaty of Waitangi is an agreement between two parties – the Crown and Māori. The government does not own it. It is not a government document. The government cannot unilaterally rewrite how Parliament recognises it, on a timeline set by a coalition agreement, and then point to the select committee process as adequate consultation with the other signatory.

That this reform got as far as it did – against official advice, without meaningful Māori engagement, driven by an electoral deadline – is not primarily a story about Goldsmith's desire to meet a KPI. It is an indictment of New Zealand’s political system that in the absence of a formal constitution there is currently nothing a parliamentary majority cannot touch in this country – including the supposedly enduring Crown’s commitments in the Treaty.

The Waitangi Tribunal holds an urgent hearing this week. Read why it matters.

Last Tuesday’s public service announcement from the small court of Luxonia was one of the worst pieces of political communication I've read in a long time. It's hard not to think the National Party has a death wish. There are 63,000 core public servants, every one of them a voter. Not one of them heard anything last week that resembled excitement for what an AI-led public service could mean for every public servant and every New Zealander.

I've written the speech Nicola Willis should have given – honest about the fiscal challenge, accepting of responsibility for bloat, and with a realistic plan for transformation. Not a restructure imposed from above, but an invitation from beside.

Note, the initiatives in this speech are not current government policy. I’ve made them up. But they should be!

When David Seymour told The Platform that new board appointments would "turn over the management" of RNZ, he exposed a fiction at the heart of New Zealand's public governance model. Using statutory appointment powers to install politically friendly chairs and directors is how governments of all persuasions have historically influenced the strategic and operational direction of Crown entities. What Seymour was advocating is not uncommon. The problem was he said it live and kicked the government into potential breach of the law with his own goal.

But beneath the faux pas lies the more embarrassing truth that New Zealand does not operate as a constitutional democracy with robust checks and balances on the abuse of political power. It operates as a small court – where access, appointment, and protection flow from proximity to power, and where the rules hold only as long as the powerful find them convenient. In a political community this size, informality overwhelms transparency and patronage is normalised as governance.

Something has to change.

In New Zealand political commentary, there is often too much focus on the "door" – the immediate, surface-level event – and not enough on what is happening behind it.

The recent departure of Maiki Sherman from TVNZ is a classic example. While the public narrative centers on a specific event at a social function in 2025, the deeper story is far more concerning for the health of our democracy.

When political power can influence who gets suspended or whose employment becomes untenable, the news media is no longer truly free. The ultimate price is paid by voters, who remain in the dark about what the government does in the shadows.

Read the full analysis of why this case matters for every student of media and journalism here:

It has been a busy fortnight – amongst other things a Guardian piece on Luxon's media strategy, an RNZ interview on his Breakfast withdrawal, and an opinion piece in The Post on Toi Māori in civic buildings. On the surface Luxon’s media strategy and Toi Māori/Māori art are different topics. But they share a single argument: a healthy democracy depends on politicians and public institutions being visibly accountable to the people they serve. When leaders choose only the interviewers they're comfortable with, they break the circuit between power and the public. When city councillors deny Māori art a role in civic spaces on spurious fiscal grounds, they make a political statement dressed up as a financial one – about whose culture and voice belongs in the commons and whose doesn't. Links to the media and the thread that pulls them together in this week’s column.

Christopher Luxon's decision to pull out of regular Monday morning TVNZ Breakfast appearances handed me the moment to update the proxemic leadership model (PXL) I first developed in 2011. The model is based on the social science of interpersonal distance — proxemics. It maps how audiences form judgments about political leaders from observed mediated images. Four proxemic zones. Four different kinds of impression. All of them are read together to form a whole leadership judgment and political leaders can't manage their way out of any of them. Read about the costs of avoidance, the TVNZ shareholder conflict of interest buried in this decision, and what John Key understood that Luxon apparently doesn't: in the game of leadership communication, you cannot build a relationship with voters you refuse to be seen by.

‘My job is the CEO.’

No, Christopher. It isn't.

The job is Prime Minister. And those are not the same thing — not constitutionally, not democratically, and not in any way that matters to the 5.3 million people you're supposed to be leading.

A CEO answers upward, to a board. A Prime Minister answers outward and downward — to Parliament, to citizens, to the media.

Luxon has substituted one model for the other, seemingly to avoid being personally accountable. And voters, as both his client and his board have noticed.

This week’s column unpacks why this isn't just a comms problem — it's a constitutional one. And why, if he actually were a CEO and scoring 20.2% in his staff engagement surveys, his actual board would be asking serious questions about his competence to do the job.

In 2025, for the first time in New Zealand's history, Pākehā/European school enrolments fell below 50%. It was over 90% in the 1960s. Meanwhile, Māori and Pacific babies now account for nearly half of all births in this country.

Despite this shift, we are seeing a revival of ‘paternalistic politics.’ From calls to abolish the Māori seats to using good behaviour as a metric for democratic representation, the gap between our aging political rhetoric and our future reality is widening.

The Māori seats aren't just a concession—they are the last vestige of dual sovereignty agreed in the Treaty and the only place where Māori representation isn't diluted by the All-NZ majority calculus.

26 Years in Parliament. 4 Major Policy Wins. Only 1 standing. Is it time for the Greens to ditch the Dad-vote?

The Green Party is currently facing a fascinating paradox. While they are polling at a historic 10.5% average and dominating the 18–49 female demographic (24.5%), they have a "Dad Problem" that is hard to ignore: just 3% support among men over 50.

But the real story of 2026 isn't just about demographics—it’s a massive strategic pivot.

By standing high-profile wāhine Māori in three key electorates, the Greens are moving directly into Te Pāti Māori’s territory. They aren’t just promising environmental justice anymore; they are offering sovereignty with stability.

Is this the year the party that has spent a quarter-century in Labour's shadow finally find its own voice?

If you’ve been following the recent polls, you’ll know the ‘normal’ rules of NZ politics are currently being rewritten. While most commentators focus on David Seymour’s media dominance, they’re missing the mathematically devastating reality for the Right:

The Right bloc isn't building the pie. They are eating each other’s lunch.

History shows that when ACT polls high, the combined Right bloc actually struggles to reach a winning threshold. In this week's column, I break down why the ‘Mathematics of Mutual Destruction’ suggests that the current 2026 trajectory isn't just a polling dip—it's an omen of opposition.

Is David Seymour prepared to sacrifice his own polling to save the coalition? The math says he must. His ego might say otherwise.

Labour should win in 2026. But should it? In this column I ask the question that Labour's strategists would rather not sit with: would it actually be a disaster if Labour did not win the party vote in 2026?

For the first time in New Zealand's electoral history, Labour is leading a first-term National party in government in election-year polls. Labour has National rattled, Chris Hipkins is outperforming Luxon on likeability, and the maths favours the left bloc by nearly 5 points.

So why is Labour still stuck in the low 30s?

The Question: Why is the National Party — the incumbent government and market leader — campaigning as if it has already lost the next election?

The Context: With the 2026 election nine months away, National is trailing Labour on key indicators. Rather than focusing on its own agenda, it obsesses over its opponents, amplifying them in the process. Meanwhile, coalition partner Winston Peters routinely contradicts government policy in his social media posts and undermines Prime Minister Christopher Luxon's core brand of stability and managerial competence — with few consequences.

The Solution: National needs to govern like a leader, not a challenger. Luxon must focus relentlessly on delivering for voters rather than attacking opponents. Critically, he must draw clear public boundaries around Peters' conduct —Peters' leverage and poll support only exists because Luxon allows it.

The Key Takeaway: As Jeff Bezos built Amazon by obsessing over customers rather than competitors, National must do the same with voters. New Zealanders elected National to improve their lives, not act like a junior partner in its own government. Every week spent looking sideways at opponents — while being undermined from within — is a week wasted on the wrong brief.

21 polls since September suggest this will be the first one-term National-led government in the party's 90-year history. National has never led for less than three terms, ever. For a party that was once thought to be the ‘natural party’ of government, this will be a humiliating prospect. What’s to blame? The answer might surprise. Click through to see the analysis and data behind the chaos.