Sending the Govt to the Naughty Chair

When wise men call out a Government hell-bent on doing bad things

It’s a rare day in New Zealand politics when two former Attorneys-General agree on anything - rarer still when their agreement amounts to, “Good grief, what are these muppets doing?” Yet here we are, with Sir Geoffrey Palmer and Chris Finlayson, a constitutional purist and a dry-as-dust conservative, finding common cause in lamenting the state of the nation’s governance. When opposites unite, you know it’s not a love story - it’s an intervention.

The Waitangi Tribunal, that delicate instrument designed to help the Crown make amends for historic wrongs, just turned 50. But instead of cake, the coalition government sent it a note reading - We’re conducting a review. PS: Don’t get too comfortable.

Māori-Crown Relations Minister Tama Potaka insists it’s just a “scope review,” though anyone familiar with bureaucratic euphemisms knows that’s code for get the shovel ready. Meanwhile, Shane Jones has described the Tribunal as “a litigator’s paradise,” which is an odd criticism coming from a man whose idea of a productive day is starting a feud before morning tea.

Palmer, the elder statesman of idealistic liberalism, warned that the Tribunal isn’t just an optional extra. It’s a constitutional handbrake on a government that’s increasingly driving without a licence. “Majority tyranny,” he called it. Which is a polite way of saying - the mob is in charge and the mob thinks history began last week.

Finlayson, never one to hide behind niceties, went further. “They fear the future,” he said, “they dream of a world that never was and never could be.” In other words, we’ve replaced policymakers with nostalgia merchants - people who think nation-building involves deleting the past and banning empathy.

The Circus Comes to Town

If this coalition were a circus (and honestly, that’s generous), the ringmaster would be auditioning for the role of clown. The tightrope walkers would be replaced by junior policy advisors, balancing ideology over common sense, while the safety net below would be labelled “Treaty Principles – Optional.”

The show’s highlight? The grand illusionist act - making Māori rights disappear under the guise of “efficiency.”

When Finlayson - the same man who delivered the Whanganui River personhood settlement - says he goes to bed worrying that “these clowns are going to repeal it,” it’s less political theatre and more tragicomedy. Imagine doing the hard work of reconciling a nation, only to have the next troupe of ministers treat it like a paint-by-numbers they can “correct.”

Parliament’s Fast-Food Democracy

Both men tore into Parliament’s new hobby - legislating at light speed. Finlayson called it “a tsunami of legislation.” Palmer called it “a constitutional crisis.” The rest of us might call it “Tuesday.”

Bills are being shoved through under urgency, consultation windows are closing faster than supermarket checkouts and the public, that pesky democratic ingredient, is being politely told to sit down and stop bothering the grown-ups.

It’s governance as fast food - cheap, greasy and guaranteed to give the country indigestion.

Finlayson warned there was “no point making submissions” - a hell of a statement from a man who once believed in process. You know things are grim when a former Attorney-General is essentially telling Kiwis, “don’t bother writing to your MP, the inbox is set to spam.”

The Great Pretend Game

The coalition’s proposed changes to the Marine and Coastal Area Act are another example of how to undo decades of progress while pretending it’s “clarifying Parliament’s intent.” Finlayson called that claim “garbage,” which is legalese for “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you.”

But it’s not just law they’re rewriting - it’s reality. The Treaty Principles Bill was the pièce de résistance of make-believe policymaking. An attempt to replace carefully defined principles with constitutional finger painting. It failed, gloriously, but not before it inspired the largest protest in New Zealand’s history.

Palmer noted, with that weary twinkle of a man who’s seen too much, that the bill’s real legacy was reminding politicians that the Treaty isn’t some antique to dust off - it’s the foundation stone holding up the house. Without it, the roof caves in.

The New Zealand Way - Smiling While We Burn

There’s something uniquely Kiwi about all this. Our leaders set fire to democratic norms, then grin and hand us a marshmallow. “See? Everyone gets a turn.”

We used to think progress was inevitable. Palmer once believed New Zealand was “onward toward perfection.” But perfection, it seems, took an early retirement and Parliament forgot to send flowers.

Today, the political mood feels less like “onward” and more like “downward with determination.”

The Tribunal, once a symbol of moral courage, now stands accused of being inconvenient and the government’s solution to inconvenience is always the same - restructure it until it stops functioning, then blame inefficiency.

Putting the Govt in the Naughty Chair

Maybe it’s time someone did send this government to the naughty chair. Not out of spite, but for a good old-fashioned time-out to think about what it’s done.

Because when your former Attorneys-General - one red, one blue - both agree you’ve lost the constitutional plot, it’s not politics anymore. It’s parenting.

Palmer and Finlayson are the nation’s exasperated parents, watching their wayward political offspring draw on the Treaty with crayons. They’re not angry, just disappointed and we all know that’s worse.

So What Now?

Well, perhaps the rest of us could start treating democracy less like a spectator sport and more like a shared project. Because the people dismantling the guardrails aren’t doing it for fun - they’re doing it because they think we won’t notice.

But we can and we must.

The Waitangi Tribunal isn’t perfect - but it’s one of the few institutions that still tells the truth about who we are and how we got here. It deserves better than bureaucratic sabotage dressed up as reform.

So yes, it’s time to send the government to the naughty chair - preferably one without cushions and while they’re there, perhaps they could read a few reports they keep trying to bury.

A Call to Arms

If this blend of outrage, wit, and weary disbelief resonates with you, you’re not alone. We all need a laugh - especially the kind that leaves a sting.

👉 For more biting satire that isn’t afraid to call power what it is – childish and often vindictive - visit www.regenerationhq.co.nz/satire.

Because someone has to keep telling the truth - even if it’s through gritted teeth and a smirk.