Who governs local government? – Jonathan Ayling

The New Zealand Initiative calls the present problem a “democratic void”. This diagnosis identifies the deeper issue behind much of local government’s dysfunction.

Voters elect mayors and councillors assuming they possess the authority to implement the platforms on which they campaigned. Yet, in practice, elected members often lack the staff, information and independent advice required to control the institutions for which the public holds them responsible.

Chief executives, meanwhile, manage council staff, oversee implementation and largely control the flow of advice reaching councillors. Elected members cast the final vote, but often only after officials have framed the issue, selected the evidence and narrowed the available options.

In many councils, this raises the obvious question: who is really in charge?

In its recent report, Head Start Done Right, the New Zealand Initiative warns that New Zealand already has one of the most centralised government systems in the developed world, and that fewer, larger councils may move power further from residents without producing the promised efficiencies.

Its argument is not against reform, but for reform that preserves meaningful local representation and places elected mayors and councillors, rather than officials, genuinely in charge.

Shenanigans around Mana Whakahono ā Rohe agreements illustrate the pitfalls of the status quo.

Created under the Resource Management Act in 2017, these agreements allow iwi authorities and councils to formalise how they will work together in resource-management processes, covering consultation, monitoring and information sharing.

Environmental planner Tina Porou recently described Mana Whakahono in understated terms as “modest, practical and, frankly, the bare minimum”. She argues that they did not transfer councils’ final decision-making power, but created durable relationships, reduced conflict and gave Māori an effective place at the table.

She is correct that these agreements did not technically remove the final decision from elected representatives. But her argument, like much analysis in favour of co-governance-adjacent structures, relies on too formal an account of power.

Power is not only exercised when someone raises a hand at a council meeting. It also lies in determining who receives an embedded role in the process, how problems are framed and what obligations future councils inherit.

Councillors may retain the final legal vote while losing meaningful control over the process producing it.

When the Government introduced its replacement planning legislation, it intended that existing and already initiated Mana Whakahono would carry into the new system. At the time, only eight existed. Since then, incredibly, several dozen more have been agreed or initiated.

That rapid increase is concerning, particularly when agreements are being concluded in compressed timeframes before the legislative window closes. In at least one case, the process proceeded despite opposition from elected local leaders. The Government has now decided that none will automatically transfer.

Greater Wellington Regional Council developed agreements with two Kāpiti iwi and hapū after the processes were initiated only in February and March. Its own report acknowledged the “compressed timeframe”, explicitly noting that imminent legislative change prompted their initiation.

Effectively, in the face of new Government policy to strengthen the authority of individuals actually elected in local government, who are held accountable by facing the public’s vote, unelected bureaucrats rushed structural agreements that tied the hands of those who’d be put in charge.

This is the sort of technocratic capture that risks undermining the long-term legitimacy of local democracy.

The question is not whether iwi should be heard. Of course they should. So should farmers, environmental groups, developers and businesses. None, however, should acquire an enduring place within the machinery of public decision-making that is insulated from ordinary democratic accountability.

It is precisely this distinction that is increasingly blurred across government. Officials, regulators and privileged stakeholders do not formally make the decisions. But they often control the frameworks, procedures and acceptable options within which elected representatives operate.

The outward forms of democracy remain, but its substance becomes thinner.

Structural reform must therefore be accompanied by governance reform. Elected members need access to independent advice, genuine control over strategic priorities and the institutional capacity to challenge the options placed before them.

Much of this requires cultural reform, not simply policy change.

The Government deserves credit for advancing local government reform. But unless we ensure that the people we vote for actually hold the reins, the same democratic void will survive within fewer, amalgamated authorities.

Jonathan Ayling is a strategy consultant and professional director. He is the former chief executive of the Free Speech Union (NZ), an Act Party supporter and donor, and has worked as a ministerial staffer and senior Parliamentary adviser in both Government and Opposition.

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