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The Spinoff
17-07-2025
- Politics
- The Spinoff
David Seymour blames karakia for high power bills. Here's what he gets wrong
In a speech this morning, the deputy prime minister said 'blaming isn't productive', then proceeded to link 'roadblocks' such as cultural clauses in resource consents to rates rises leading to high inflation. Liam Rātana takes a different view. This morning, speaking at the 2025 Local Government New Zealand Conference, deputy prime minister David Seymour told a room full of local government workers that karakia and cultural impact assessments were part of the reason why power prices and food bills were high. He prefaced this by stating 'blaming isn't productive'. What followed was a barrage of finger pointing and blame-shifting. Rates increases – mostly attributable to a need for local councils to address central government's underinvestment on critical infrastructure – were picked as a key driver of inflation. In what was a confused speech, Seymour also acknowledged many of the costs facing councils weren't of their own making. What really caught my attention, though, was Seymour's plan for council and communities – particularly the point on reform of the Resource Management Act. It was here Seymour took his chance to criticise his own culture: 'You and your ratepayers want renewable energy but the consenting process demands ceremonial chanting and spreadsheet-level detail about every shrub on site.' Seymour was referring to a clause included in a resource consent granted by Central Hawke's Bay District Council to Centralines Limited for the construction of a solar farm in Ongaonga. The 'demand' for ceremonial chanting cited by Seymour refers to a clause in the resource consent stating: 'The consent holder shall invite mana whenua to perform karakia for any native trees or plants that need to be removed from the site.' This consent also included a construction condition that states the consent holder must invite mana whenua at least 10 working days prior to the commencement of any works to perform a pre-construction karakia. A similar clause in a resource consent granted to Swedish furniture giant Ikea for the construction of its store in Sylvia Park was referred to by Seymour. In this instance, the consent stated: 'The consent holder must invite representatives of mana whenua groups… to undertake cultural monitoring, karakia and other such cultural ceremonies on the site' for the pre-start meeting, commencement of earthworks, and immediately prior to the completion of bulk earthworks across the site. While highlighting these clauses as unnecessary 'red tape' and 'roadblocks', Seymour says his changes will put 'power back with communities'. I wonder which communities he's talking about? From the resource consent for IKEA in Sylvia Park. This is the kind of fluff that ties up consenting processes and makes everything we do slow and costly in New Zealand. — Simon Court (@SimonCourtACT) June 27, 2025 A spokesperson for an energy company who was involved with a similar solar project said the clauses Seymour was referring to were 'pretty normal' and if companies want to create strong relationships in development projects, they put in place these types of conditions through mutual agreement. For the project this company was involved with, the spokesperson said their company had actually requested mana whenua be onsite weekly to provide cultural monitoring and build cultural capacity of the site team. 'If the developers weren't happy with this decision, they would have an opportunity to raise this during the resource consent application process, and if it wasn't resolved during that process then they can appeal the decision,' the spokesperson said. In the case of the resource consents granted to both Ikea and Centralines Limited, the requirement is to simply extend an invite to mana whenua representatives in advance of milestone dates that are normally identified well before the day. On a practical level, it's as simple as making a phone call or sending an email. If there's no response received, the work goes ahead. I can almost guarantee mana whenua will not be there to perform a karakia for the removal of every native tree, nor will the companies be cutting them so regularly that they need to extend an invite to mana whenua every other day. The most likely scenario is that a number of trees will be identified well in advance, an invitation to mana whenua extended, and a single karakia performed for several trees prior to their removal. If mana whenua representatives do wish to conduct a karakia or a similar ceremony, the whole process would normally take no longer than an hour or two, at most. It is misleading for the deputy prime minister to claim these are the roadblocks halting development and hiking the price of energy and food. Besides karakia, Seymour also attacked cultural impact assessments. These are often provided by mana whenua for consent applications or works involving sites of cultural significance. The reports document the cultural values, interests and associations mana whenua have with an area or a resource, and the potential impacts of a proposed activity on these. Seymour's criticism of cultural impact assessments made me wonder just how many he has actually been a part of. Perhaps the minister of regulation's negative perspective of these reports is due to a lack of understanding or lived experience. In a previous job, I was privileged enough to be part of training mana whenua to carry out cultural impact assessments and took part in the drafting of some reports too. Contrary to Seymour's belief, these assessments aren't some prohibitive cultural gobbledygook. While they aren't always a statutory requirement for resource consent applications, these reports can serve an important role in meeting legal obligations – particularly under the Resource Management Act. Importantly, cultural impact assessments also help to foster stronger relationships and better communication between applicants and tangata whenua, and help identify potential adverse effects early. Seymour's criticisms reminded me of a pūrākau about the story of Rata, a chief from Savai'i in Samoa who is attributed with the construction of the waka we know today as the Takitimu. The story goes that Rata was eager to construct a waka, so he ventured high into the mountains and found the two best trees for his waka. Rata cut down the trees, only to return the next day to find them standing. This happened multiple times before Rata finally learned that the children of Tāne were reassembling the trees in the night because Rata had not given thanks or performed the correct incantations. For Seymour and his supporters, this might be a pointless tale of folklore but for me, it's a reminder that tikanga Māori was here in Aotearoa long before resource consent applications and cultural impact assessment reports.
The Spinoff
18-06-2025
- Business
- The Spinoff
Slashed Matariki funding threatens to leave communities in the dark
Government funding for Matariki events was cut by nearly half this year. With some festivals now cancelled or scaled back, Liam Rātana investigates what's been lost – and what's still happening. Just four years after Matariki became a public holiday, the future of our public celebrations is looking less certain. In Budget 2024, the coalition government slashed funding for Matariki events by 45% – dropping from $5.5m to $3m. For many communities, the impact was immediate, with events cancelled, scaled back, or organisers left scrambling for alternative funding. Some organisers have described this year's funding process as a 'lolly scramble'. And others say the cuts have made it harder to plan with confidence or secure support for multi-year programming. The budget decision was made alongside mounting evidence that Matariki is delivering significant benefits – both cultural and economic. According to research commissioned by the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment, electronic card spending over the Matariki long weekend in 2024 reached nearly $607m. That's a 2.7% increase from 2023 and a 10.8% jump from 2019, the year before the holiday was introduced. The arts and recreation sector, while making up just 2.8% of total retail spend, saw the largest year-on-year increase, up 32.7% from 2023 and 61.7% from 2019. But the value of Matariki isn't measured by spending alone. Recent research by Manatū Taonga Ministry for Culture and Heritage also shows a deepening public understanding of the holiday's meaning. The 2024 New Zealanders' Engagement with Matariki report found that while general awareness of Matariki remains steady, there's been a notable increase in people recognising it as a time for reflection, whānau connection, cultural learning and environmental appreciation. Roughly 70% of survey respondents agreed that Matariki brought people together through local events, helped connect them with te ao Māori and encouraged a deeper connection to the natural world. These are intangible benefits that speak to Matariki's wider role in national identity and social cohesion. That role has become even more important in a time of increasing political and cultural division. A March 2024 report by the Helen Clark Foundation found that less than half of New Zealanders agreed with positive statements about social cohesion in Aotearoa. The report warned that ongoing polarisation could weaken trust in institutions and make long-term planning more difficult for businesses, communities and individuals alike. While Matariki alone won't fix social cohesion, it has become a rare moment in the national calendar that brings people together around shared values. The government has defended the decision to cut funding, with prime minister Christopher Luxon telling media during last year's Matariki celebrations: 'We're going through some tough times, we have to make some tough choices across the whole of government spending.' Some of those choices have already had visible consequences. Free public events like the Tuturu Matariki Festival in Southland and Matariki Kaiapoi in Canterbury have either been cancelled or scaled back due to budget restraints. Te Puni Kōkiri, which took over responsibility for administering Matariki event funding from Manatū Taonga in 2024, was approached for updated data on this year's funding allocations. No response was received in time for publication. In 2023, Manatū Taonga allocated $3m across 121 applications through the Matariki Ahunga Nui Fund. By comparison, Te Puni Kōkiri's 2023/2024 Te Pū Harakeke Fund allocated just $211,349 across 46 organisations. Despite the cuts, hundreds of events are still taking place around the country this Matariki. Many organisers have turned to local councils, iwi authorities or philanthropic partners to keep celebrations going. The official national event will be hosted this year by Ngāti Rangi at Tirorangi Marae in Ohakune, with a national broadcast scheduled for Friday morning. But with central government support reduced and demand for funding remaining high, organisers say the sustainability of these events is becoming harder to guarantee. As Matariki continues to evolve as a public holiday, questions remain about how it will be resourced – and whether communities will have the support they need to keep the kaupapa alive.
The Spinoff
06-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
Mana Moana was still moving, but this time it was missing a little magic
A stirring celebration of Pacific music, Mana Moana's second outing felt more polished but less alive – with lighting, staging and energy choices that dulled the audience spark. Liam Rātana: There's something about chasing the first high that inevitably lets you down. My partner and I went to the first Mana Moana back in 2023 and it was incredible. The buzz in the air, the dancing, the flags waving, the music and the singing – it all fed into creating an electric atmosphere. We could tell we were witnessing something special and it felt like a privilege to be a part of it. I don't think there was a dry eye in the crowd that night. For weeks after, my father-in-law couldn't stop talking about how much he wished he had come. When tickets dropped for this year's return, we booked ours straight away and forced my in-laws to come along too. We were prepared this year, arriving early and nabbing a park right by Spark Arena. In 2023, the show sold out well in advance, so I was surprised to see that there were quite a few empty seats near the top of the stadium. To be fair, flights had been cancelled out of Wellington, which also impacted the orchestra, with a majority of the spots being filled in by members of the Auckland Philharmonia instead of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. The show wasn't bad – the singing and music was still incredible, and I had admiration for the great amount of work that went into producing such a high quality performance. MC Tofiga Fepulea'i was as funny as ever, warming the crowd up enough to remind us this was not a run of the mill symphony performance. The opening overture – an ode to setting sail on a waka for a voyage around the Pacific – was a fun tune that set the mood for what was to follow. Despite this – and perhaps because I had already seen the first one – the rest of the show didn't really invoke the same emotion I had the first time around. The first section felt quite slow, with one crowd member commenting to me they hoped there would be more dancing soon. Even the people sitting behind us, who also attended the first show, were commenting on how it was different this time around. There wasn't as much dancing in the crowd or from the choir and the lights were focused on the stage, making it difficult to see audience members dancing. There were no proud flag bearers running crazily around the floor. The orchestra didn't seem to have the same sense of excitement at the novelty of the situation – with this crowd and performance being very different to that of their usual. Overall, the show felt more polished – which is fine, except it ended up feeling like an orchestra and choir performing Polynesian songs, rather than a Polynesian choir performing with an orchestra. There were a couple of new compositions, which were nice to listen to alongside the staples such as Nepituno, composed by Tongan Queen Salote, and the famous Fijian farewell tune Isa lei. Understandably, it was generally the more well known songs that drew cheers from the crowd or prompted them to hold their phone lights up and simultaneously sway from side-to-side. While Mana Moana was a nice, relatively inexpensive family outing, both my partner and I said we probably wouldn't pay to go to another one. If you haven't been before, I still recommend it – especially if you are a fan of the orchestra and/or choirs. The combination of a Polynesian choir alongside a full orchestra remains a novel joy. However, unlike a boil up, Mana Moana was not better the second time around for me. Madeleine Chapman: I was kicking myself for missing the first Mana Moana after seeing countless videos on Instagram from the show, so was ready and pumped this time around. As I should've expected, I bumped into about six cousins while looking for my seat. Beyond 'orchestra + Pacific choir' I had no idea what to expect but knew that such a combo was surely a recipe for success. And based on the numbers (not sold out but a near-full Spark Arena is nothing to sneeze at for a local choir and orchestra), it was clearly working for them. So I was disappointed to find myself wanting more. There were some fairly minor gripes: the mics on the choir felt too low and at times they were overpowered by the orchestra in front; Tofiga Fepulea'i is incredibly funny but was evidently unprepared, with one of few prepped gags being a tired fa'afafine joke I've heard a thousand times before; a lack of attention to detail on things like the choir's entrance and transitions. Despite those gripes, the show was beautiful and emotional, as expected. But that was largely thanks to the crowd being willing to do the heavy lifting on engagement. As the show built (credit to the directors for their set list), audience members became more and more enthusiastic and willing to dance. The aunties in the floor seats siva'd in the aisles and the uncles in the stands did the same. And yet it was this willingness from the crowd to lift the show that leads to my biggest disappointment. A show like this, where nearly 100% of the audience is Pacific, paying to hear the songs they've sung and danced to their whole lives, should be doing everything it can to facilitate that unique engagement. My favourite parts of the show, by far, were when audience members danced in the aisles or sang back to the orchestra. This happened in the first iteration too, so it's confusing that the set up for this year's show seemed to actively discourage such engagement. While Fepulea'i told people to dance if they wanted to, the lights remained completely off in the audience, meaning the older attendees would have to navigate in the dark and then dance in the shadows. I found myself straining to see the beautiful old ladies performing their siva in front of the stage because there wasn't a single light on them. Even the final numbers, like Tama A Samoa, specifically chosen to encourage people out of their seats, were performed with the audience in darkness. As thousands of people danced and sang and cheehoo'd (not dead yet), we all squinted around, barely able to see what everyone else was doing. Maybe it was a safety thing but, with a lack of movement on stage – I was surprised to learn it really was just a choir and an orchestra without choreography or dancers – surely a designated space on the floor and a bit of lighting that encourages the audience to dance together would elevate the night? Nevertheless, I knew a combo of orchestra and choir would be something I loved, and I did. I just wished I could see all the other beautiful performers on the night too.
The Spinoff
25-04-2025
- General
- The Spinoff
The Weekend: The sound of silence
Madeleine Chapman reflects on the week that was. I've been re-watching Girls lately, the HBO classic that perfectly captures millennial women in the most painful way. I highly recommend it especially if you haven't watched it before. Every character on the show is deeply flawed and frustrating in their own unique ways, but one of my favourites is Ray, the grouchy complainer who reminds me of a young Larry David. Near the end of the series he ironically yells at the drivers honking outside of his apartment: 'This incessant sound is doing irreparable damage. This incessant sound is prompting my norepinephrine production.' He's referring to the neuro-transmitter that enables fight or flight, and he's not wrong. Incessant noise can drive a person insane. That show came out over a decade ago but the issue of noise pollution is as pressing as ever. In New Zealand, I mostly find the noise of my neighbourhood comforting. The lawn mowers, the drills, the buses accelerating away from the bus stop outside our apartment every seven minutes. It's comforting because it's a consistent and reliable reminder that I live among many others. I find it so comforting that when I visit my rural dwelling parents, the silence (and darkness) at night can be alarming. It's a shock to the system to remember that almost all the noise we hear in the city is manufactured and directly the result of human activity. Couple that with the incessant roar of, well, the entire human population speaking at once and at all times on the internet, and suddenly the noise is overwhelming. So it is increasingly rare for thousands of people to agree to silence, even for a moment, as happens every Anzac Day to honour the troops who have served our country. The silence is always meaningful and heavy. But this year, that silence had an alarm ringing with it, after a call for a boycott of the ceremonial aspects of Anzac Day. The reason? Some veterans feel that the gestures and the speeches are prioritised over actually supporting the veterans around our country today. As Liam Rātana has reported, the call for a boycott came soon after the Waitangi Tribunal hearings in which the tribunal heard of the inequities in support for Māori veterans and the restrictive nature of veteran support, particularly for those who have recently served. Sometimes even silence can prompt norepinephrine production. This week on Behind the Story The unreported reality for NZ veterans Ātea editor Liam Rātana has reported two stories recently on the same topic, a topic that is so often ignored by both media and everyday New Zealanders: veterans. Our returned or retired army personnel are at the sticky end of almost every social measure: unemployment, mental health, suicide. But without even a national register of how many veterans we have, it's even harder to tell the stories of a community that hasn't been quantified yet. Madeleine Chapman talks to Liam this week on Behind the Story about his coverage of the recent Waitangi Tribunal hearings into the treatment of Māori veterans and a veteran group's call to boycott the formal ceremonies of Anzac day. Watch on YouTube or listen wherever you get your podcasts. The stories Spinoff readers spent the most time with this week
