Democracy Briefing: Is Te Pāti Māori in a death spiral?

Is it time to call time on Te Pāti Māori? The party’s spectacular implosion makes it hard to see how the party can recover.

Te Pāti Māori’s decision to expel two of its six MPs, Mariameno Kapa-Kingi and Tākuta Ferris, represents not just a political crisis but a death rattle. What we’re witnessing is the culmination of structural weaknesses papered over by theatrical performances, viral haka videos, and the cult of personality.

As I argued in a previous column, anyone looking for a hero or principled cause in this meltdown will come away empty-handed – see: The Emptiness of the Te Pāti Māori turmoil. The November 9 expulsions merely confirm that diagnosis: Te Pāti Māori was always a house built on sand, destined to collapse once natural tensions arose between powerful egos competing for control.

The expulsion itself was extraordinary. TPM’s National Council voted on a Sunday night to remove a third of its parliamentary caucus — an unprecedented move in New Zealand politics. The reasons given were vague, involving “constitutional breaches”. Kapa-Kingi allegedly overspent her parliamentary budget by $133,000, made disparaging remarks to media, and failed to raise internal issues with party president John Tamihere first. Ferris faced similar charges minus the financial allegations.

Both MPs rejected the decision as “unconstitutional” and now sit as independents, vowing to appeal. The irony is rich: a party that positions itself as defenders of indigenous sovereignty and tikanga Māori expelled two elected representatives without, according to critics including their own Te Tai Tokerau electorate co-chair, “transparency or tikanga.”

The Illusion of principle

What’s most striking about this entire debacle is the absence of any substantive policy disagreement or ideological divide. As RNZ’s Craig McCulloch correctly noted, “from what has dripped out over the past six weeks, it seems the feud is driven more by personality than principle.” Neither faction has articulated a coherent alternative vision for Māori advancement. Neither side is fighting over Treaty settlements, housing policy, health equity, or educational outcomes. Instead, we have accusations flying about budget overspends, alleged “coup” attempts, and who gets to control party machinery.

Co-leader Rawiri Waititi framed the expulsions in grandiose terms: “Our job is to make this a one-term government. That will require structure, fortitude and unity”. But this rings hollow when the “unity” requires purging a third of your caucus. Co-leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer acknowledged “many hoped the end would be reconciliation — it could not be achieved,” suggesting the real issue was irreconcilable personal differences, not irreconcilable political ones.

The expelled MPs, for their part, offer no compelling counter-narrative. Kapa-Kingi told media: “When you think about it, you’re going to take two smart, educated, loving, good people with great families around them, and you’re going to discount them from a team of six, who in their mad mind would do that?” This appeal to her personal qualities rather than policy positions underscores the emptiness at the heart of the conflict. Ferris declared the decision “contrary to tikanga Māori” but offered no substantive critique of the party’s political direction.

Craven power plays on all sides

Neither faction in this fight demonstrates much integrity. The leadership trio (Tamihere, Waititi, and Ngarewa-Packer) have shown themselves willing to expel democratically elected MPs in a process their own electorate committees have questioned. Te Tai Tokerau (Kapa-Kingi’s electorate) was excluded from the meeting that expelled their MP. Two other electorates apparently abstained – Te Tai Tonga (Ferris’ electorate) and Hauraki-Waikato (Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke’s). This is democracy in name only. It’s a centralised executive asserting control over grassroots representatives. As former co-leader Te Ururoa Flavell told RNZ, it is “not consensus” when only three electorates out of six vote for expulsion.

Yet the opposition faction appears equally motivated by self-interest. Tamihere’s lengthy Facebook screed alleging that Kapa-Kingi and Ferris plotted a leadership coup, approaching iwi leaders to unseat Waititi and Ngarewa-Packer, suggests naked ambition rather than principled opposition. If true, this was old-fashioned political backstabbing. If false, it was character assassination. Either way, it’s politics at its most venal.

The allegations and counter-allegations read like a soap opera script. Party leadership claims Kapa-Kingi’s son Eru (former party vice-president and Toitū Te Tiriti movement leader) unleashed a “tirade of abuse” at parliamentary security staff. The opposition faction counters with allegations of “bullying” and “toxic culture.” Financial impropriety accusations flow in both directions.

As political commentator David Farrar noted, “I can’t recall if any party has ever before expelled two MPs at once, let alone a third of their caucus... there appears to have been no due process where they get to argue in their defence.”

It is not even clear that the leadership has the support of a majority of the caucus for the expulsions. When asked if the other two TPM MPs (Maipi-Clarke and Oriini Kaipara) support the decision, Debbie Ngarewa-Packer said the leadership “can’t say that they’re not on board… because they haven’t expressed it”.

This will now all get a lot messier. As today’s Otago Daily Times editorial states, “If Te Pati Maori had harboured any belief that the two MPs would go meekly and quietly it would have been a foolishly naive one. Mr Ferris has been a heart-on-his-sleeve firebrand since being elected as MP for Te Tai Tonga, while the less high-profile Ms Kapa-Kingi has demonstrated thoughtful steeliness in her contributions to the House. Neither are shrinking violets and neither will shirk from a struggle.”

The failure of the TPM leadership to show any accountability will also limit the ability of the party to recover. Newsroom’s Marc Daalder writes today: “To earn back the trust of the public – Māori or not – requires accountability. Accountability, in turn, requires acknowledging where you have misstepped. It is hard to believe that in nearly four months of turmoil – first internal, then spilling out into the public – the party has made no mistakes.”

Daalder is particularly damning of the co-leaders’ orientation to answering questions on the turmoil: “The refusal to submit to questions, the refusal to accept any blame, the constant pointing of fingers at anyone and everyone but the party (the media, Ferris and Kapa-Kingi, social media comments and government MPs and ministers are all apparently more responsible than Tamihere, Waititi and Ngarewa-Packer) are the telltale signs of a thin skin. Why bristle at this if you are so confident this expulsion is the right move? Perhaps they are not so certain.”

The Tamihere machine: power without roots

The fundamental problem is that Te Pāti Māori 2.0, the relaunching of the Maori Party after the original MPs left Parliament, was never a genuine grassroots movement. While the original party president Che Wilson took a patient “flaxroots” strategy from 2018-2020, which involved legitimate organising (mobile offices visiting remote communities, rebuilding branch infrastructure) the party’s dramatic expansion under John Tamihere’s presidency from 2022 onwards tells a different story.

Tamihere simultaneously serves as TPM president, CEO of Te Whānau o Waipareira Trust (the major urban Māori social services organisation), and CEO of Whānau Ora Commissioning Agency (which distributes government funding). This creates what University of Auckland’s Peter Davis describes as “a personal fiefdom.” The overlapping organisational network provides resources, infrastructure, and data that no grassroots movement could match.

The census data controversy of 2024 revealed the mechanics of this operation. Investigative journalist Andrea Vance documented allegations that Stats NZ’s contract with Whānau Ora Commissioning Agency (controlled by Tamihere) to collect census data led to improper data harvesting. Census forms were allegedly photocopied, personal information entered into databases and sent to Waipareira Trust, then used to target voters to switch to the Māori electoral roll. Text messages from Waipareira’s code allegedly urged votes for TPM. While Tamihere denied wrongdoing and police found insufficient evidence for corruption charges, the appearance of systematic data misuse through overlapping organisations is damning.

The party also failed to disclose $320,000 in donations on time in 2021, with $158,223 coming from Tamihere personally and $48,879 from Urban Māori Authority. Waipareira Trust was deregistered as a charity over inappropriate loans to TPM. This pattern suggests a party built through top-down organisational muscle and wealthy insider connections rather than organic community support.

The family connections reinforce this picture. Rawiri Waititi is Tamihere’s son-in-law. Toitū Te Tiriti, the protest movement that mobilised tens of thousands in November 2024, was founded by Kiri Tamihere-Waititi (Tamihere’s daughter, Waititi’s wife) and Eru Kapa-Kingi.

Performance politics and the illusion of success

TPM 2.0’s remarkable electoral success — winning six of seven Māori electorates in 2023 and polling at record highs of 7% in December 2024 — created an illusion of political strength. The party became famous for theatrical stunts: Waititi’s taonga pūoro playing in Parliament, Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke’s viral haka protest, constant media controversies. Young 21-year-old Maipi-Clarke defeating senior Foreign Minister Nanaia Mahuta seemed to herald a new era of Māori political assertiveness.

But as Matthew Hooton observed, this was always “performative politics” rather than substantive policymaking. Prime Minister Christopher Luxon’s brutal assessment, while politically motivated, contained uncomfortable truth: “Te Pāti Māori’s a joke, to be honest. They’re completely irrelevant in this place. I have not seen a single policy idea about what they’re doing to lift cervical screening rates for Māori, immunisation rates for under-twos, let alone academic achievement for Māori kids.”

The party’s instability was always lurking beneath the colourful surface. The death of MP Takutai Tarsh Kemp in June 2025 (described as the caucus “peacekeeper”) removed a stabilising influence. When Eru Kapa-Kingi publicly broke with party leadership in October 2025, accusing them of operating a “dictatorship model”, the façade cracked. Internal party documents from October 23 revealed the party was “bleeding membership” due to negative media attention. By November 9, the situation had deteriorated to the point where expelling a third of the caucus seemed preferable to trying to negotiate reconciliation.

Tamihere’s inevitable consolidation of control

The November 9 expulsions represent the logical endpoint of TPM’s structure. Once powerful politicians crossed Tamihere, whether through the alleged leadership coup attempt or simply by resisting his authority, he asserted control through the party machinery he dominates. The National Council vote, with Kapa-Kingi’s own electorate excluded and Ferris’ electorate abstaining, shows how centralised power can override democratic representation when push comes to shove.

Tamihere’s lengthy “Anatomy of Madness” Facebook post last week reveals his mindset. He accused the expelled MPs of “greed, avarice, and entitlement,” framed opposition as personal betrayal, and urged them to leave and form a separate party (like Hone Harawira did with Mana in 2011). His message was clear: fall in line or get out. Co-leaders Waititi and Ngarewa-Packer backed his version of events, with Waititi confirming Tamihere’s coup allegations were “absolutely true”.

This consolidation of power was probably inevitable given TPM’s organisational structure. The party president holds extraordinary authority under its constitution, and Tamihere’s overlapping roles give him resources and leverage that MPs elected by community support cannot match. The result is a party where authority flows from the top down, not from grassroots up, despite all the rhetoric about tikanga, mana motuhake, and community empowerment.

Electoral catastrophe looms

The Māori electorate and broader public are unlikely to reward this toxic display. While TPM reached 7% in December 2024 polling (enough for nine parliamentary seats) that was before the current crisis fully erupted. As political analyst Matthew Hooton noted, “TPM’s existential troubles” make their role in any future coalition “increasingly academic.” Labour leader Chris Hipkins’ assessment was damning: “Te Pāti Māori have got some real issues that they need to work through. They’re a long way away from playing a constructive role in Parliament and in any future government.”

The electoral mathematics are brutal. TPM won several Māori electorates by narrow margins in 2023: Tāmaki Makaurau by just 42 votes, Te Tai Tokerau by less than 500. With the party now fractured, those seats become vulnerable. Labour still won the party vote in all seven Māori electorates in 2023 despite losing most electorate seats. This shows that many Māori voters split their tickets, trusting TPM for electorate representation but preferring Labour overall.

The expulsion creates a three-way race in Te Tai Tokerau and Te Tai Tonga if Kapa-Kingi and Ferris run as independents in 2026. Split votes could hand seats to Labour. Even in seats TPM holds more comfortably, the spectacle of a party at war with itself depresses turnout and enthusiasm. Internal party documents acknowledged they were “bleeding membership” even before the November 9 expulsions.

Polling expert commentary suggests TPM’s support will likely drop as the crisis continues. Worst case scenario: continued infighting drives support below 1%, and Labour wins back six or seven Māori electorates, leaving TPM with one seat at most.

All six current TPM MPs could conceivably lose their seats in 2026. Waititi (Waiariki) and Ngarewa-Packer (Te Tai Hauāuru) are probably safest given their high profiles and large 2023 margins. But even they face erosion of support. Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke (Hauraki-Waikato) defeated Nanaia Mahuta by a relatively slim margin that could reverse. The other seats are deeply vulnerable.

Labour’s opportunity and Māori politics’ future

Labour is positioned to capitalise on TPM’s implosion. Despite holding only one Māori seat currently (Ikaroa-Rāwhiti), Labour candidates came close in several seats in 2023 and demonstrated enduring party vote strength. Chris Hipkins has confirmed Labour will “compete vigorously in the Māori electorates.” With TPM’s brand toxified by internal warfare, Labour can credibly argue it offers stable, experienced representation and a realistic path to government.

Some commentators lament this potential outcome. TPM brought energy, cultural assertiveness, and uncompromising advocacy to Parliament. The party challenged Labour’s historical dominance and complacency in Māori politics. The sight of young Māori MPs speaking te reo, performing haka, and refusing to accept second-class treatment felt revolutionary to many supporters.

But perhaps TPM’s demise will ultimately benefit Māori political aspirations. The party under Tamihere’s control has proven to be a dead end. Tamihere’s vision seems to be one more focused on internal power struggles and organisational empire-building than on delivering concrete improvements in Māori health, education, housing, and economic outcomes. The census data controversy, financial irregularities, and expulsion of elected representatives without proper process suggest an organisation that talks about tikanga but operates by the rules of raw political power.

If Labour wins back the Māori electorates in 2026, it will be with a mandate to deliver results rather than just performances. Labour’s Māori MPs will sit in a party with realistic prospects of forming government and implementing policy. This is arguably more valuable than having six MPs in permanent opposition engaging in theatrical protest.

The lesson of TPM 2.0’s rise and fall should be sobering: flashy activism and viral moments are no substitute for sustainable organising, democratic accountability, and genuine policy development. A movement built on personalities, family networks, and centralised control through overlapping organisations was always vulnerable to the kind of implosion we’re witnessing. The flax roots Che Wilson carefully cultivated from 2018-2020 were subsequently paved over by Tamihere’s organisational machinery. Once the machine’s key operators turned on each other, the whole structure collapsed.

Conclusion: When performance meets reality

This week’s expulsions strip away any pretence that Te Pāti Māori 2.0 is a principled movement. It is a vehicle for ambition controlled by a small inner circle. Neither faction deserves public sympathy. The leadership’s expulsions show authoritarian instincts; the opposition’s coup plotting exposes personal opportunism.

The real losers are Māori voters who believed in a movement for empowerment. They were handed a party built on family networks and centralised control, and more concerned with who held power than how it was used.

Te Pāti Māori’s rapid rise and collapse will stand as a cautionary tale: performance without principle, activism without accountability. The demise isn’t just likely — it’s already underway.

Dr Bryce Edwards

Director of The Integrity Institute

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