The establishment of Māori seats in New Zealand’s Parliament in 1867 tells a story of political calculation rather than progressive idealism. Understanding this history provides crucial context for today’s debates about Māori wards in local government.
In 1867, New Zealand’s political landscape was dominated by South Island interests. Dunedin, riding the gold rush wave, had become the country’s largest city. The European population stood at about 250,000, while the Māori population numbered around 56,000.
The South Island’s goldfields attracted thousands of miners who, as landowners, qualified to vote under the property franchise that restricted voting to male landowners worth £25 or more.
This created an unexpected political dynamic. Māori men who held land communally could theoretically vote in large numbers, particularly in the North Island where they remained the majority in many electorates. North Island settlers, already outnumbered by their South Island counterparts and competing for political influence, feared being overwhelmed by Māori voters in their own constituencies.
The solution was cynically brilliant: create four separate Māori seats. This effectively quarantined Māori political influence while appearing progressive. With 72 general seats for 250,000 Europeans versus four Māori seats for 56,000 Māori, the arrangement ensured systematic under-representation. The Native Land Court’s individualisation of Māori land titles would have qualified more Māori to vote in general electorates, making the separate seats a tool of marginalisation rather than empowerment.
Ironically, Māori men became the first to receive "one man, one vote" status in 1867, as all Māori males over 21 could vote for the Māori seats regardless of property ownership. However, this came with a catch — they could only vote for Māori seats, not general electorates.
The political landscape shifted dramatically by the 1881 election, when universal male suffrage was extended to all men over 21, eliminating property requirements for European voters. This election marked a turning point: the North Island’s non-Māori population finally surpassed the South Island’s.
It was also the election that brought shame to New Zealand politics. With recent electoral boundary changes, the Māori passive resistance village of Parihaka was included in the same electorate held by John Bryce, who would become Native Minister in 1882. Bryce orchestrated the invasion of Parihaka in November 1881, just weeks before the election.
The peaceful resisters were imprisoned without trial in South Island jails, including Dunedin — a calculated electoral stunt that removed potential opposition while demonstrating "strong" governance to settlers hungry for Māori land.
The parallel between North-South Island rivalry and land confiscation cannot be overlooked. While the South Island prospered from gold, the North Island’s wars and land shortages led to systematic confiscation of productive Māori land, redistributed to soldiers and militia as payment for service. The Māori seats, far from protecting Māori interests, facilitated this dispossession by limiting Māori political influence during crucial decades of land alienation.
Fast forward to 1996, and MMP transformed Māori representation. The Māori seats became proportional to enrolment, growing from four to the current seven. This system has elevated Māori issues to national prominence in ways the fixed four-seat arrangement never could. Today, 297,382 of 520,569 enrolled Māori voters have chosen the Māori roll — a clear statement of continued relevance.
The Local Government Act 2002 expanded council responsibilities beyond core infrastructure into areas affecting cultural values. Whether addressing subdivisions near wāhi tapu, sewage plant locations or development of culturally significant landscapes, councils now make decisions with profound impacts on Māori communities, often without Māori input.
Critics argue that decision-makers shouldn’t be appointed based on race. This misframes the issue. Under MMP, Māori voters decide whether separate representation serves their interests — not the majority that marginalised them for over a century. The enrolment numbers speak volumes: Māori seats remain valued and utilised.
If Māori wards are established in local government, they should follow the MMP model — proportionate representation based on enrolment. Let Māori communities decide their value through participation.
The choice is simple: use it or lose it. But that choice belongs to Māori, not to those who’ve benefited from their exclusion.
— Grant McLachlan is a former parliamentary researcher and independent hearings commissioner.
