As you know, I keep a selection of words I wish I wrote. Always have done. Quirky, some are, wise others, funny and irreverent, many of them seem to be. There are words of comfort and commendment, words for weddings, funerals, naming ceremonies, words of blessing and greeting. Angry and hopeful words are gathered there too, as well as words to make you cry or laugh till you’re fit to burst. Words by family, friends and strangers, countrymen and countrywomen, priests, gurus.
Words are so very important, occasionally scary, often resonating, frequently comforting. This last month, I added this to my collection: “Te Tiriti is not just words on a page. Real people stood across from each other. Each with their own understandings and intentions. Each with their own mana and mandate. And each making the decision to intertwine their fates, mō ake tonu atu.”
They are words taken from a speech by Justin Tipa (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Mamoe), the elected Kaiwhakahaere of Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu.
Justin’s early years were spent in Te Kohurau, in the Waitaki Valley, before moving to Ōtautahi. A father to four boys, Justin and his partner Ana reside on the pā at Moeraki. He has been the Chair of Te Rūnanga o Moeraki since 2019 and is an executive member of Kāi Tahu ki Tuawhenua, which represents the seven Papatipu Rūnaka of the Queenstown Lakes area.
With a background in manufacturing, education, and most recently as Chief Advisor Māori for Fonterra, he brings a wealth of experience in navigating complex issues—and he does so with grace and simplicity.
You can read or watch his speech here
This was also a month for another wordsmith. My son Ollie completed his Master’s thesis over the summer. Hallelujah!
Called A Long-term Perspective on Institutional Trust and Confidence in New Zealand, it unpacks the “trust crisis” in our institutions, including trends in trust and confidence in New Zealand Courts and Judiciary. Dad’s pride aside, it’s worth a read. Here’s a snapshot of regional trends in confidence in the Judiciary. So well done Northland and Auckland!
And on a related theme, JD Vance’s words are worth noting this month. In a recent speech—of which there is much to refute—he implicitly accepts that democratic outcomes arise out of the interplay between free ideas, freely expressed. The strongest ideas, he says, achieve the most support, and this guarantees the best government, provided that no barriers are placed on freedom at any point.
I am, as you might anticipate, a strong believer in both democracy and free speech, and I think this conventional account is comforting. In fact, I’m desperate for it to be true—but unfortunately, it isn’t.
In their 2016 book Democracy for Realists, Christopher Achen and Larry Bartels provide ample evidence that people are too busy living their lives to be all that good at holding government to account.
The two professors show convincingly that people are not very well-informed about politics, don’t have consistent views on issues, don’t assemble coherent suites of views, have little idea what is practicable, and have short memories. We are ready to blame politicians for errors but aren’t sure who made the mistakes and how—assuming we even notice that a mistake was made.
In 2023, Bartels added (in a book entitled Democracy Erodes from the Top) that voters are mainly concerned with economic satisfaction. When scandals arise, politicians often respond with complicated measures to increase transparency to answer the “trust crisis.” Worthwhile as these are, they never work to increase trust. Trust, instead, is directly related to how well-off people feel. And voters can even support a clearly corrupt and oppressive liar if the economy is prospering.
Last week, the British Journal of Political Science published a paper by the Belgian professor Stefaan Walgrave and several colleagues that assessed the ability of political leaders to understand public opinion.
The authors demonstrate that this is not the case. Using evidence from Belgium, Canada, Germany, and Switzerland, they show that leaders don’t have the edge their followers expect. In other words, the voters don’t have very strong opinions or knowledge—and the politicians don’t have a very good fix on what the voters are thinking (presuming they are thinking at all).
This doesn’t undermine the case for free speech or for democracy. Free speech matters in itself—and protecting it is about protecting our autonomy, our personal security, and our creativity. Democracy provides a way to remove governments before they become corrupt—and to do so in a way that is widely accepted as legitimate.
Which makes it ironic that Vance serves someone who tried to undermine this very mechanism.
But acknowledging that democracy is so imperfect at holding government to account—and that it will not automatically produce wisdom or respect for liberty—makes the case for institutional constraints: the rule of law, the intervention of judges, an independent media, and a strong civil society.
These, of course, have the opposite flaws to democracy. Judges can’t be removed. So, we have a delicate balance.
If Ollie is correct, then judges enjoy a firm measure of trust. Upon that, we must build.
And trust is best built through difficult conversations about nationhood. The final words go to Justin:
“That doesn’t mean we should retreat into our political echo chambers and hatch plans to do away with the other side.
We’ve got to work at it.
In good faith…
A nation is not a blank canvas.
Rangatiratanga is not going anywhere.
Rangatiratanga is our opportunity to build and sustain our communities in accordance with our tikanga, and to have a genuine stake in the success and prosperity of this nation we have all inherited.”