Check Your Privilege

What’s going on with Te Pāti Māori MPs and Parliament now?

What’s the latest drama?

Three Te Pāti Māori MPs – Rāwiri Waititi, Debbie Ngarewa-Packer and Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke – are facing disciplinary action in Parliament. During the first reading of a controversial bill about the Treaty of Waitangi, they entered the centre of the debating chamber, performed a haka directly in front of ACT MPs and disrupted proceedings.

One of them tore up a copy of the bill and threw it on the ground.

This was not a spontaneous reaction but a planned protest, timed for maximum effect. And it worked (at least on social media). But Parliament has rules.

What is parliamentary privilege — and why does it matter?

Parliamentary privilege is a legal and constitutional protection that allows Parliament to do its job without interference. It includes the following:

• MPs can speak freely in the House without fear of being sued for defamation

• Parliament controls its own proceedings and the courts generally can’t intervene

• The House can investigate anything that threatens its ability to function

In other words, privilege is what gives Parliament the space to hold the government of the day to account and pass laws on behalf of the people without interference. But it also comes with responsibilities.

If someone abuses that space, by disrupting proceedings or creating disorder, it undermines the whole system.

That’s where the Privileges Committee comes in. It’s a group of MPs from different parties who look into breaches of privilege or other serious misconduct. They investigate and make recommendations.

The final decision always rests with the full House of Representatives, however.

What did Te Pāti Māori do wrong?

During the reading of the Treaty Principles Bill, the three MPs caused a halt proceedings. The Speaker was forced to suspend the sitting. MPs were left unable to do the work they were elected by the people to do.

Afterwards, the Privileges Committee summoned asked the MPs to appear. That’s standard practice when an MP disrupts the House. But instead of turning up, they issued a press release accusing the committee of running a “kangaroo court.”

They demanded:

• A joint appearance, rather than appearing individually.

• Their preferred senior lawyer.

• A tikanga Māori expert.

• A hearing date and time that suited their schedules

The committee said no.

Why did the Committee said no?

The requests were denied, not out of spite, but because such provisions are not accommodated within the Standing Orders. The committee's procedures are designed to be straightforward and efficient, not to mirror a court of law with all its attendant complexities.

Take the issue of legal counsel. Standing Order 232 makes it clear that a witness may be accompanied by a lawyer, but that lawyer doesn’t get to participate by default. They may consult with their client and make limited procedural submissions if the committee agrees. They don’t have an automatic right of audience or advocacy. A select committee is not a courtroom, and the Standing Orders are not a substitute for court rules.

Similarly, there’s nothing in the Standing Orders that gives a witness a right to call their own expert witnesses. Under Standing Order 226, committees can choose to hear from people, and those hearings can be public, but they decide who gets to speak. There’s no provision that says an MP has the right to bring in someone to reframe the process through a different cultural or legal lens.

Then there’s the matter of appearing jointly. The Standing Orders don’t require individual MPs to be heard one-by-one, but in practice that’s how contempt matters are handled. The purpose of the Privileges Committee in these cases is to examine individual conduct. That has long been the standard. Not just under this government or the last one, but across decades. It’s not some novel imposition aimed at Te Pāti Māori. It’s the ordinary application of the rules as they stand.

And that’s the key point here. These procedures weren’t put in place in response to this particular dispute. They’re the framework we have for ensuring Parliament functions with some basic order and predictability. If they’re to be changed, that’s something for the whole House to decide — not something a party can unilaterally opt out of because it doesn’t like the terms.

Parliament, like any institution with standing and dignity, has protocols. You remove your shoes on a marae. You take your hat off in church. You stand when a judge enters the courtroom. You might not agree with all the customs, but you follow them out of respect. If you can’t, you explain yourself in a way that acknowledges the shared interest of everyone involved.

How has TPM responded?

They boycotted the meeting.

Isn’t that just standing up for principle?

That’s how The MPs framing it. But let’s be clear about this not being some intolerable unfairness or breach of natural justice. This is a handful of elected MPs demanding different treatment, refusing to play by the same rules as everyone else, then claiming persecution when the system pushes back.

And it’s not just about Parliament. Any place with a shared purpose has rules.

• A marae has kawa. You don’t walk onto the atea without protocol.

• A church has liturgy and silence. You don’t interrupt a homily to make a point.

• A courtroom expects order. You don’t leap from the gallery to protest the judge.

• Even school assemblies and prizegivings have some structure.

Whether you agree with those rules or not, following them shows respect. If you want to challenge them, you do it by showing up, explaining your view and making a case that acknowledges the shared interests of the whole group.

Parliament is no different. It’s not a stage for solo acts. It’s a place where adults with authority make rules that govern everyone else. And should hold themselves to a higher standard in the process.

What’s a breach of privilege?

A breach of privilege happens when someone interferes with Parliament’s ability to do its job (for example, disrupting a debate, ignoring a summons, or trying to intimidate MPs).

What’s contempt?

Contempt of Parliament is a broader term that covers serious misbehaviour that undermines or disrespects Parliament. This includes disorderly conduct, repeated defiance of rules, or failing to appear when summoned. It doesn’t have to breach a specific privilege. It just has to seriously disrupt or dishonour the House’s work.

Some examples are:

• Refusing to attend a select committee when properly summoned

• Interrupting or disrupting the House’s proceedings

• Misleading the House, either deliberately or recklessly

• Threatening or intimidating an MP for something they said in the House.

Have the TPM members committed contempt?

That’s the question. The MPs were summoned asked to explain their behaviour during the dramatic protest haka after the first reading of the Treaty Principles Bill and now they’ve refused to answer for that when formally required, which obstructs Parliament’s ability to hold members accountable.

A finding of contempt isn't automatic, however. The Committee will assess whether their absence genuinely impedes its work, whether the process was fair, and what precedent their actions set. The final determination depends on the Committee’s judgement and, ultimately, the will of the House as a whole.

What punishments are and are not possible?

The Privileges Committee can recommend several sanctions. Some are used more often than others. Some are never used in practice.

What the House can do:

• Suspend the MPs from Parliament for a set number of sitting days. During that time, they lose the right to vote, speak or collect pay.

• Censure them with a formal public rebuke recorded in Hansard (which they probably wouldn’t care about).

• Fine them, up to $1,000 each.

• Imprisonment is technically available (lol). I don’t think it has ever been used in New Zealand, however. It would be politically unthinkable.

What the House cannot do:

• Expel an MP from the House. That would override the voters’ choice and is no longer permitted under New Zealand law. Only a serious criminal conviction — one with a prison sentence of more than two years — can trigger the loss of a seat.

• Impeach an MP: People think impeachment is an American thing but it’s actually of British constitutional provenance. However for various technical reasons this is a power that was never extended to the New Zealand Parliament.

What are other MPs saying?

Responses have followed predictable lines.

• Marama Davidson said tikanga Māori should be part of how Parliament operates.

• Ricardo Menéndez March said the standing orders are outdated and need reform.

This is what you’d expect from the Greens, who may simply be incapable of grasping the point.

• Chris Hipkins almost certainly can grasp the point but seems determined to avoid acknowledging it,

Others were more blunt.

• David Seymour said if their pay was cut, the MPs would show up fast enough.

• Shane Jones dismissed them as “cultural Smurfs” inventing “nefarious excuses.”

• The Prime Minister backed the committee’s work and said clear rules are essential in a democracy.

Meanwhile, Labour’s Peeni Henare, who also took part in the haka, apologised to the committee, acknowledged he broke the rules and accepted the process. That’s how a grown-up handles these things.

Why does this matter?

This is not just about a haka. It’s about whether Parliament will hold the line against those who treat it as a platform for performance rather than a forum for governance.

When MPs disrupt proceedings, then reject the disciplinary process and accuse everyone else of racism or bad faith, it undermines trust in the very system they claim to represent. It sends the message that some MPs think the rules don’t apply to them and that any pushback is oppression.

But democracy doesn’t work that way. There’s no path to shared power without shared responsibility. You can challenge a system without walking out on it. You can honour your culture without treating institutions as illegitimate. And you can protest. But if you break the rules, you show your integrity by facing the consequences, not by pretending you’re above them.

Parliament has rules because it has a job to do. So do its members. The moment we let those slip, we stop being a democracy and start being the Jerry Springer show.

So what should happen?

There is a need for the House to deter future acts of open truculence. While protest is a legitimate part of democratic life, Parliament cannot function if its authority and procedures treated as optional.

Te Pāti Māori may in time rue the precedent they are helping to set. If MPs are free to ignore lawful committee summonses, stage unapproved demonstrations during proceedings, and then denounce the resulting disciplinary process as illegitimate, what happens when the next group of MPs decides to do the same.

In this case, the House should impose the maximum punishment realistically available short of imprisonment. That means:

• A formal censure

• A fine of $1,000 per MP

• Suspension for no fewer than ten sitting days.

That combination would affirm the authority of Parliament, register the seriousness of the misconduct, and send a strong signal that defiance of procedures in place to protect everyone will not be indulged. Whether wrapped in the language of grievance or not.