Interview: Dominic O'Sullivan talks about Te Tiriti, Equality and the Future of NZ Democracy

Professor Dominic O’Sullivan (Te Rarawa, Ngāti Kahu) is a political scientist at Charles Sturt University in Australia. He is the author of eight books including Indigeneity: A Politics of Potential (Policy Press, 2017) and Sharing the Sovereign: Indigenous Peoples, Recognition, Treaties and the State (Palgrave Macmillan, 2020). Professor O'Sullivan talks to NZ Booklovers.

Tell us a little about Te Tiriti, Equality and the Future of NZ Democracy.

This book shows why it is helpful, fair and reasonable to think outside Te Tiriti’s two most influential interpretations – partnership and assimilation.

Te Tiriti allowed the British Crown to establish government which isn’t the same as the right to be government. It guaranteed Māori authority over their own affairs and said that the rights and privileges of British subjects should develop with equal tikanga. These promises mean that people have a right to be themselves, not just on the marae, but in all aspects of political life so policy can’t presume, as it does at the present time, that we should treat people equally, but that Māori people don’t get to have a distinctive say in deciding what equality means. I show that if we think about it a bit differently liberal democracy allows us to do better. It also lets us aim higher than partnership which assumes a ‘them’ and ‘us’ framing of political possibility with Māori the junior partner and the Crown the senior partner.

Partnership encourages Māori people to think about the Crown as only for ‘them’. My argument is that one can’t be junior partner and equal citizen at the same time especially because junior partnership positions people on the outside with the expectation that government shouldn’t actually work for them as well is it works for everyone else.

The book argues that if we take ‘the Crown’ out of our language we might start to change our thinking about what government or kāwanatanga is - distant and abstract - or the place where people share Aotearoa New Zealand’s political authority for the common good (the commonwealth)? To support this ideal, I propose a republican commonwealth as an alternative to either the bicultural state or the ‘one people’ idea that places Māori people and culture on the periphery.

The republican commonwealth could mean replacing the king as Head of State, but it doesn’t have to and for my argument, it’s a side issue. The important point is the republican emphasis on freedom as non-domination which is colonialism’s exact opposite because it requires thinking about how political authority and responsibility are distributed to protect all people’s freedom equally. All and not just some people decide what freedom means and Te Tiriti provides a framework for thinking about which freedoms and responsibilities to belong to rangatiratanga and which belong to kāwanatanga. 

What inspired you to write this book?

Te Pāti Māori went to the last election with the idea that Aotearoa New Zealand should separate itself from the British Crown to give Te Tiriti partnership a better chance. For a long time, I have thought that partnership not the king is the obstacle to rangatiratanga. I’ve also thought a lot about junior partnership positioning Māori people outside the state and therefore never having the right to expect that they should be able to say that kāwanatanga works for us as well as for anyone else. This is an expectation that requires equal tikanga in public life because it also means being able to say that Māori people share the ownership of government with the same opportunity for influence as anyone else.

There is a lot of research and public conversation on the meaning of rangatiratanga (article 3) and people share clear ideas on what it should mean in practice. However, there are some big gaps on what articles 1 and 3 mean for what kāwanatanga is and how it should work. Equal tikanga is an important example that I consider in the book. Decision-making processes are also important, and I use the citizens’ assembly as an example of strengthening Māori voice by detaching decision-making from the state. I show why it’s important that in this example people come together as citizens not senior and junior partner, able to think and reason in their own ways because they come to the assembly with equal tikanga. I also show how tikanga matters to policy focused on people’s freedom as non-domination

What research was involved?

A lot. The book is both theoretical and practical so some of the big ideas I was thinking about had to be well grounded in real examples of how politics works and how it doesn’t work. Real examples of how tikanga is reflected in policy and how it is excluded. I read widely across political theory, treaty scholarship, Waitangi Tribunal reports, legislation and party policies.

I started writing this book shortly after the last election so remaining up to date with the rapid and far-reaching policies to diminish Te Tiriti that have occurred since then was also important. There was constantly new material to read and interpret and to think about whether new events and ideas challenged or confirmed my arguments.

What was your routine or process when writing this book?

I tried to write every day and, as far as I could, make sure that the book was first among my commitments for the day. Of course, real-life gets in the way, but I found it helpful to keep this ideal always in mind because long breaks from a project like this mean losing momentum and I didn’t want the project going on for too long. I like to write as I read and try to reach a minimum number of words each day. Not so many that it becomes overwhelming but not so few that I can’t see any progress by the end of the day. This process of reading and writing continued for a year or more then the editing task began. Editing is slow and laborious as it’s not just about fixing typos but involves serious thinking about the argument and structure of the book. I went through numerous edits, refining ideas and arguments as I went.

What did you enjoy the most about writing Te Tiriti?

The constant exposure to new ideas and the time to think about them seriously was enormously stimulating and satisfying. It was also a kind of escapism from the stresses and routines of everyday life. Some people watch Shortland Street to escape. For me, writing serves much the same purpose.

What do you hope readers will take away from reading your book?

I hope that people will find one or two ideas that they have not previously thought about and find that these make an interesting contribution to public conversation. I also hope people will get a sense that Te Tiriti doesn’t need to be as polarising or contested as the government has made it and that readers will add to their thinking about how Te Tiriti can support the fair distribution of power and responsibility.

I don’t try to present Te Tiriti as a rulebook, and I don’t try to convince people of a rigid process for managing relationships and for managing the state. But we do need to think about how to do things better and I hope that the book adds to the discussion.

What did you do to celebrate finishing this book?

I went to the pub with my wife and kids and most importantly my eight-month-old granddaughter to whom the book is dedicated. I also have a launch coming up in Auckland next month and another one later in the year in Canberra where I live. The book is well celebrated.

What is the favourite book you have read so far this year and why?

My father Vincent’s last volume of poetry Still Is is one I come back to often. He died in 2024 and there are several poems in this collection that recount stories and events that he talked about in the last few months before he died so this book has special significance.

Auckland University Press