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Monday, August 10, 2026

Something New

   We feature each fortnight Nicholas Reid's reviews and comments on new and recent books.  

TE TIRITI, EQUALITY AND THE FUTURE OF NEW ZEALAND DEMOCRACY by Dominic O’Sullivan (Auckland University Press, NZ$39:99)

            How can we really understand and interpret the Treaty of Waitangi? What influence does it now have on us and is it still relevant? Does anybody still think that once the treaty was signed it was adequate to say “we are now one people” Maori and Pakeha? Surely not. And there is also now the fact that Maori rights are being more fully understood and used than before. Many people have asked these questions, but Dominic O’Sullivan takes a very different approach. He is interested in how New Zealand / Aotearoa can and should become a commonwealth, a democracy in which both Maori and Pakeha participate evenly.  Dominic O’Sullivan often refers to CTA [Critical Te Tiriti Analysis], looking closely at how the Treaty of Waitangi should now be interpreted and how it can enlighten us. So far so clear. But there is a major problem. Te Tiriti, Equality and the Future of New Zealand Democracy is very much a work for academics. Back in 2023 I reviewed on this blog Bain Attwood’s  A Bloody Difficult Subject, about the Treaty of Waitangi. In 2025 I reviewed on this blog Eric Olssen’s The Origins of an Experimental Society. Both were scholarly and thoughtful, but I made it clear that inevitably they would probably be read only by specialists and students. I must say the same about Te Tiriti, Equality and the Future of New Zealand Democracy, but in this case the language is even more specialist. So, rather than giving my opinions, I will present O’Sullivan’s ideas by quoting what I believe are his major ideas.

            On his opening page he reminds us that the idea of the Republic is that there is no one person ruling. He says “the book’s ambition is to help shift the treaty discourse toward the development of a republican commonwealth”. On page 7 he says “This book’s overarching question is… how might all and not just some people – Maori people as much as anybody else – reach a point where they can say that New Zealand is recognisably ‘owned’ by everybody, and that their share in an ownership is and meaningful and worthwhile…” And on the same page “Racism’s ultimate expression is a political order where some people do not count. Some people not counting is not compatible with democratic values. Those values are sometimes rashly and incoherently co-opted into the argument that equality means sameness of a kind that supposes cultural homogeneity: the presumption that equalily means ‘everyone should look and think like me.’ ”

            In Chapter Two page 27 he discusses “Partnership and Sovereignty”. He opposes the idea of the Treaty as partnership which diminishes opportunities for Maori self-determination.  The Treaty does not mention partnership.  The Crown is not, in fact, a routine protector of Maori interests.  It repeatedly fails as a protector of rangatiratanga or as a site for the meaningful expression of Maori citizenship.  The Crown may, however, be more of a political than constitutional impediment to an inclusive state with power and responsibility distributed as Te Tiriti imagines.  So, it may be, as Shore and Kawharu (2014) suggested, that the ‘discourse of the Crown’ is ‘an impediment to constitutional reform’ (p. 32).  Furthermore, they argue, the Crown itself is a ‘legal fiction’ and a ‘shape-shifting’ symbol whose definition is obtuse and whose meanings vary according to context’ (p.17).  Its value may be its location ‘above the fray of every day political interests’ (Shore & Kawharu, 2014, p.27).” Personally I agree entirely with what Dominic O’Sullivan is saying here. Further he says [Pg 30] “The Crown is, in effect, the government of the day.  The king enjoys no legal, political or even moral power to exercise the personal responsibility that might be read into the original Te Tiriti text.  No monarch, since 1840, has intervened to protect Maori people from stage aggression or intrusion into their lives. Te Tiriti’s influence is only ever the product of legislation, judicial interpretation and moral persuasiveness.  No monarch has or could have shown a personal political interest.” I interpret this to mean that the idea of “The Crown” is a fiction… and [unlike polite O’Sullivan] I would go further and suggest that New Zealand / Aotearoa would be better if we became a republic. However… [Pg 64] “A republic that simply replaces the king with a citizen as head of state would miss the opportunity to consider republicanism’s particular liberal emphasis and how it might support a stronger democracy – one based on a conception of Te Tiriti concerned with secure independence and meaningful inclusion rather than binary conflict.  From this perspective, republican’s value is not so much its presumption that a citizen, not a king, will be head of state, but its presumption that non-domination is the organisational principle that should determine how public institutions work and relate to citizens.  Changing the head of state may be minimally disruptive.  However, self-determination requires profound conceptual disruption.”. Further [Pg 69] “It does not matter whether it is the king or a New Zealand citizen who is head of state.  I propose that interpreting Te Tiriti to imagine New Zealand as a commonwealth means that it reflects neither a homogenous one people nor a state where people are partners in a racially constructed binary order – an order where rangatiratanga is for us and provides the only space where we may exercise authority because kawanatanga is exclusively for them.  Instead the commonwealth could allow Te Tiriti to be more clearly expressed as an instrument concerned with who makes decisions, how, why, where and for whom, so that a genuine common good is upheld.  This would mean political possibilities are not framed through the always shifting and obscure lens of the Crown as sometimes friend and usually foe.  The commonwealth also means that as participants people may expect fair influence over setting the policy agenda – in other words, deciding what governments do, what is set aside and what is done by others.”

            The main point in these quotations is…[Pg 79] “A commonwealth, in its truest sense, means that the colonial construct of race should not be used to rank people on a continuum of human worth, whereas colonialism either divides people in that was or assimilates them through the systematic undermining of culture and independent identity.  Undermining may occur by setting illiberal boundaries on what is acceptable in public life – for example, by proposing that it is unreasonable for people to own land collectively or to privilege its environmental or spiritual value over corporate profit.  Instead, the relational justice that the commonwealth might support means that Indigenous claims on the state ‘are not only about compensation or reparations, but also about the terms of association between them and the colonial state.  The injustice of expropriation of Aboriginal lands, for example, is not only about the dispossession of property, or the violation of negative rights of non-interference, but a violation or denial of just terms of association.’ (Ivison, 2002, p.100)

[Pg 99] “Participatory parity may give effect to differentiated citizenship by protecting independence and ‘voice’ (Fraser & Honneth, 2003).  It means that people contribute to public life with parity of esteem. As a starting point, participatory parity rationalises a Maori entitlement to contribute to public decision-making according to their own values and aspirations.  It presumes non-domination and a meaningful share in government.  It presumes that participation from one’s own cultural perspective is a determinant of liberal equality.  People cannot be required to express themselves in languages and according to value systems that are not their own.”

[Pg 113] “Tikanga matters as a lens through which people think and reason about what policy is for and what it should achieve.  New Zealand’s stable and ordered political environment makes it conducive to thinking about what tikanga means in practice, even with prejudice as a strong counter-influence.  The political environment also supports examining what it means to say that liberal democracy should, according to its own tradition, protect people from perpetual exclusion.  Excluding tikanga means excluding people.  With reference to selected cases heard by the Waitangi Tribunal, this chapter shows how and why tikanga is necessarily a constituent of political equality and guards against exclusion.  Tikanga is, then, a precursor to democratic legitimacy, and to what makes the commonwealth capable of non-domination. The commonwealth is an entity that works for everyone, because it is everyone.”

[Pg 132] “Colonialism does not expect public policy to work in favour of Indigenous people and tends, in fact, to explain policy failure as a product of human deficiencies.  It may do so because public policy is neither neutral nor objective.  It is not necessarily made to serve an agreed public good and may be set to respond to the essential colonial assumption that some people’s self-interest may override what might be objectively defined as fundamental human rights, such as the rights to property, culture and self-determination.  It manufactures crises to assert colonial authority as political ‘actors use framing strategies to (re) allocate blame for politicised incidents’ (Brandstrom & Kuipers, 2003 p. 282). Furthermore, ‘the reality of the crisis can only become (partially) accessible through some kind of mediation, through its performative construction by populist discourse’ (Stavrakakis et al., 2018, p.9).

[Pg 166] “The amended Local Government Act 2002 should, therefore, begin with the assumption that Maori people are citizens and thus shareholders in the powers and responsibilities of local government.  They are consequently entitled to see their values and aspirations reflected in how government works and sets and implements policy priorities.  Their ultimate expectation is for the system to work in their favour as much as it does for anyone else. There is a presumption of equal political standing that contrasts with junior partnership as a lesser standing, requiring some people to be located on the margins of decision-making, akin to the role of a stakeholder in someone else’s project.”

[Pg 190] “Democracy means that people may hold whichever opinions they like. Nobody is compelled to offer reasons chosen only because others find them acceptable.  Just as democracy cannot tell people what to think, it cannot prescribe the intellectual process one would follow to reach a position.  Indeed, people may choose no intellectual process whatsoever and simply make rash decisions based on emotion over reason.  Policy proposals concerned with protecting Maori rights are routinely opposed from this perspective, but the deliberative democratic presumption is that a policy proposal is likely to be objectively better if the political system encourages reasoned objection, reasoned support or reasoned refinement.”

[Pg 191] “Public participation and consultation are established features of New Zealand’s liberal democracy.  The citizens’ assembly shows explicitly that democracy does not belong only to ‘them’ in a ‘them’ and ‘us’ binary and provides an instructive foundation for thinking about what it means to practise equal tikanga in public decision-making.  More important are the principles and processes of deliberative reasoning that it raises, which could also be applied to other institutions of the republican commonwealth.”


            Now while I have been cherry-picking quotations from Dominic O’Sullivan’s book, I might have missed some of his most important ideas; and certainly his concerns about Maori inclusion is important.

            Having said all this, in its style it really is a hard book to read.

Something Old

  Not everything worth reading is hot off the press. In this section, we recommend "something old" that is still well worth reading. "Something Old" can mean anything from a venerable and antique classic to a good book first published year or two ago.  

UN MAUVAIS REVE by Georges Bernanos [First published in 1950 in France]. First published in English in 1953 as Night is Darkest

            Un Mauvais Reve had an odd history. Originally it was going to be a larger part of his earlier novel Un Crime [reviewed on this blog]; but his publishers thought it would be too long, so they told him to re-write it. Only some years later did he pick up what he had meant to write originally. Georges Bernanos died of cancer in 1948 and Un Mauvais Reve was published in 1950. There has been some controversy as to whether Un Mauvais Reve was not yet completed and it is true that the novel that we now have is divided into two parts, the second part being relatively short. Unlike many of his novels, Bernanos does not set this novel in a rural town, though there are some sequences out of the city near the end. Most of the novel is set in Paris, and the major characters are sophisticated – or at least they think they are. Given the milieu, some reviewers have suggested that Bernanos was deliberately copying the style of the likes of Andre Gide and other writers who were always looking for prestige. But what he is really doing is mocking himself, as we shall see later. Note too that this novel does not deal with religious ideas – at most, towards the end of the novel there is a brief moment when a priest goes by, but that is all. One other point – the English title is Night is Darkest. This does not really say what the original French title means. Un Mauvais Reve means A Bad Dream and we are left to consider much of the novel is a bad dream. So at last to one of my long synopsis.

            Monsieur Emmanuel Ganse is a novelist who has been writing for years. Indeed  many of his novels, which were once popular, are now seen by many as old-hat – but he thinks that he is still a major intellectual. [This is where Bernanos is deliberately mocking  himself.] He has three secretaries, the aging Madame Simone Alferi and two young men who are cousins, Olivier Mainvilles and  Philippe. The novel begins with Olivier writing a letter to his aunt in which he says that Ganse’s works are rubbish and he notes that Simone Alferi seems to know everything and all the nasty things that go on in Ganse’s home. But [conveniently] Olivier happens to leave his letter on Ganse’s desk… and of course Ganse finds it, reads it, and later in the tale he more-or-less rebukes Olivier without exactly firing him… but he is out of favour. Olivier is an orphan, but he is hoping that he will get a rich heritage from his grandmother. Meanwhile he has little income. Phillipe tells Olivier to be careful about how he goes because he has being using drugs, but Olivier says that he does not want to be “one of those mediocre puppets” who are trying to tell him what to do.

And it is at this point that we learn that Simone Alferi has had many men in her life… and Ganse had failed to seduce her. The fact is that she is currently Olivier’s mistress… and she takes in drugs galore, pumping in cocaine and frequently injecting herself… and Olivier is taking the habit himself.  I did say that there was a whiff of decadence didn’t I? Olivier is a resentful young man, thinking that he should have that heritage he longs for. He is, in fact, like Stendhal’s Julien Sored or Dostoievsky’s Raskolnikov – young men who think they are superior than other people and have the right to take whatever they want. By contrast, Philippe is a thoughtful young man, but always unhappy, wandering about and thinking of killing himself. On and off, both young men follow such fashionable things as Communism and Nihilism… Meanwhile Ganse, now unsure of his works, goes to see the psychiatrist Lipette. The psychiatrist basically tells him that his novels are really mere versions of himself.  Ganse has a different view, and says so. “I haven’t got faith. I was born and I shall die a free-thinker and a rationalist… I can pull myself together”… but after this talk the phone rings and we learn that Philippe has just committed suicide.

There follows a kind of flashback about how Philippe killed himself. It was in a room where young rowdy men were talking about Anarchism and Communism. Both Olivier and Philippe leaned towards Anarchism, but Philippe shot himself elsewhere after talking with Olivier . And how does Olivier react when he hears of Philippe’s death? He says that “I don’t care a damn about Philippe when all is said and done! He has committed suicide to annoy and humiliate me. Yes I know how stupid that sounds. I tell you he killed himself for no other reason” But later he starts thinking that he might kill himself. Not sure what to do, Olivier goes on a very long walk. It rains, it is cold (it’s winter). He thinks things over… but after he has woken in a hotel, he still wants to take a long journey… what really is his purpose in life? He has still not worked it out…

And then we find ourselves in a very different situation. This is where we come to Part Two of the novel. Away from other characters, Simone Alferi decides to commit murder by killing Olivier’s grandmother who has not yet given him his inheritance. So she sets off by herself through different places [mainly rural] leading to Olivier’s grandmother… and this part of the novel gives us every step she takes. Indeed Bernanos describes the mountains and fords and small hamlets and railway-stations that she passes through. And of course  pumping in cocaine and frequently injecting herself as she goes her way. She is sure of herself… but then don’t junkies think they know what they are doing? And here she passes briefly a young naïve priest and they say some polite words, but naturally she hates priests. And she gets to the house where Olivier’s grandmother lives and…

Now wait a minute. Did you really think that I am going to tell you how it ends? This is exactly what I said when I reviewed Un Crime. It is a crime story but, like a good whodunnit, you have to work it out for yourself and what it all means. At the same time, I have to suggest that this novel was probably not fully worked out by Bernanos before he died. So we are left hanging. And yet please remember the title of the novel - Un Mauvais Reve meaning A Bad Dream. Simone Alferi’s journey could be just a bad dream, the type  of thing that would go through the mind of a disordered brain – like that of somebody who uses too many narcotics… like Simone Alferi.

            Un Mauvais Reve did not sell well when it was first published. If Monsieur Ouine was an enigma, then for some readers Un Mauvais Reve was even more baffling. Was it a crime story or was it a psychological study? Certainly the novel contains many conversations of the style where there is much pretentious philosophy used by young men including the ideas of Olivier and unhappy Philippe. This can be irritating for most readers. And yet I still see Un Mauvais Reve as one of  Bernanos’s most interesting novels. On one level he was ridiculing his own works – not because he was refuting his works, but because he was making it clear that all writers can have their pompous moments. But more importantly he was doing what he had never done before. He was dealing with the decadent Parisian intellectual writers who write to no purpose and he was aware of the type of the nihilism that many young Frenchmen took up after going through both the First and Second World Wars. 


 

Something Thoughful

   Nicholas Reid reflects in essay form on general matters and ideas related to literature, history, popular culture and the arts, or just life in general. You are free to agree or disagree with him.   

                                                           VERBAL NAUSEA

I do not know what part of New Zealand you come from, but I know that we have just gone through a very cold spot. In the South Island there was not only snow but freezing ice on windows and cars. Roads became impassable, cars skidded and ran into one-another, some were injured and of course it became difficult to go to work and take the children to school. On the south part of the North Island, things very cold too with some snow and frost and even in Hamilton things were very cold. We Aucklanders were warned that things would be very cold… but as it happened the sky was blue for most days up here, though when it came to night we too turned on our heat-pumps in the evening and later cuddled up in bed with extra blankets. So that is winter.

I am writing about this because for once our woefully bad TV six o’clock news got it right. For once we were given full information about the situation, the weather, the roads that could not be used, what was coming etc. I write this because too much of the so-called  six o’clock news is not real news at all. We are told that we are getting an hour of news, but in fact much of it is filled with trivia. Too often we are given tripe about some pop or rock musicians who are visiting New Zealand  - which means merely advertising – and fillers about nice people who are doing nice thing in small towns. Surely this should be put in the seven o’clock show that follows the news. Then there is the fact that the last 25 minutes of the so-called  news is taken up with sports; and recently I have noticed the way that the same images and stories from Sunday are used again on Monday, presumably because there are not enough reporters working on the job. What is really missing? It is detailed information about what is happening in the wide world – what is happening overseas – perhaps because footage is not available or perhaps our “news” cannot pay. And then there is the very limited information about New Zealand politics, sometimes given in the form of pointless “vox pop”. And did I notice the number of advertisments that butt in?

So why do I bother watching the six o’clock news? I watch it so that I can legitimately swear loudly in the living room about the inane reportage that we are given -  before I eat my dinner.