Anyone looking for a hero or a just cause in Te Pāti Māori’s current meltdown will come away empty-handed. This is not a righteous struggle of good versus evil, but a messy brawl in which both warring factions are deeply flawed. Over the past few weeks, Te Pāti Māori has been tearing itself apart in an escalating feud that’s burst into public view. What began as a behind-the-scenes power tussle has exploded into a full-blown civil war at the top of the party, revealing an alarming void of principle at its core. Allegations abound of undemocratic manoeuvring, secretive decision-making, and leaders who feel more entitled than accountable.
At the centre of the storm is party president John Tamihere, accused by critics of running Te Pāti Māori like his personal fiefdom. On the other side are two rebellious Members of Parliament (Mariameno Kapa-Kingi and Tākuta Ferris) who have challenged Tamihere’s authority. But if anyone hoped these dissidents were motivated by higher ideals, that illusion has faded. Their revolt appears fuelled not by kaupapa (policy or principle), but by personal ambition and grievance.
The conflict’s point of no return came yesterday, when Tamihere took to social media with an extraordinary ultimatum. In a bombshell Facebook post, he publicly declared Kapa-Kingi and Ferris to be rogue elements and challenged them to “do the honourable thing” and resign not only from the party, but from Parliament itself.
It was an unprecedented move: a party president effectively excommunicating two of his own MPs and demanding their exit from politics. This public call-out made it undeniable that Te Pāti Māori’s infighting had become an all-out war. And yet, for all its sound and fury, this meltdown is striking in its emptiness. It isn’t about ideology or values at all. It’s just a bare-knuckle fight over control, personality and pride.
A Civil war of personalities, not principles
What’s most alarming about Te Pāti Māori’s implosion is the absence of any real political content. There is no serious policy dispute or clash of values driving this feud. The party isn’t split over Māori rights or any point of ideology; instead, the fight is purely over who gets to run the show. Both factions are behaving as if power itself is the prize, rather than what that power is supposed to achieve. In essence, it’s a civil war of personalities, not principles.
Tamihere himself has underscored this point. He recalls that when he first got wind of a potential leadership coup earlier in the year, he directly asked Mariameno Kapa-Kingi what her cause was: what justification she had for trying to oust the current leadership. By Tamihere’s account, “Ms Kapa-Kingi was unable to [provide one].” In his view, there was no grand principle at stake, only personal ambition. And on the evidence available, he has a point.
Consider how this saga first simmered: not over policy, but over position. In early 2023, as the party prepared for the election, the Kapa-Kingi whānau was reportedly incensed about the party’s draft list rankings. The youthful newcomer Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke (then just 21) had been ranked higher than the veteran Mariameno Kapa-Kingi. The Kapa-Kingi camp erupted that “somebody in nappies” (as they derisively called young Hana) was placed above a wāhine rangatira (respected woman leader) like Mariameno.
They even demanded that Mariameno be elevated to number one on the list. Tamihere recalls essentially telling them: if you’re that upset, step aside and we’ll find a new Te Tai Tokerau candidate. Faced with that challenge, the Kapa-Kingis backed down. The anecdote is telling. From the start, this was about ego and status, not about policy or principle. It was a quarrel over pecking order rather than purpose.
Fast forward to 2025, and the same pattern holds. After entering Parliament, Kapa-Kingi was briefly made the party whip, only to be demoted mid-year, reportedly due to an office budget fiasco in her parliamentary operations. Not long after, her son Eru Kapa-Kingi emerged as a public antagonist of the party leadership. Eru lambasted Tamihere’s rule as “ego-driven rather than kaupapa-driven.”
It’s a sharp criticism that many might agree with in theory – except Eru himself was hardly a neutral observer. He turns out to have been on the party payroll, earning a hefty salary (reportedly around $120,000 per annum) working for his mother before that arrangement ended amid misconduct allegations. In fact, leaked documents later accused Eru of egregious behaviour, including verbally abusing Parliamentary staff, and revealed that his lucrative contract was a major factor in Mariameno’s budget blowout. In other words, the rebels decrying a lack of integrity were themselves entangled in nepotism and poor stewardship.
Eru’s claim about “ego over kaupapa,” while perhaps valid, rang hollow coming from someone with such a personal stake in the status quo. The moral high ground beneath the Kapa-Kingi camp crumbled as it became clear they were guilty of the very sins they ascribed to Tamihere.
And what of Tākuta Ferris, the other dissident MP? Ferris, who represents the Te Tai Tonga electorate, aligned himself with Kapa-Kingi in opposing her suspension from caucus. Yet it’s hard to identify any great point of principle in his stance either. Ferris’ most notable “stand” of late appears to have been a parochial dispute over identity and recognition within the party, which is hardly a noble policy crusade.
According to Tamihere, Ferris’ motivations were quite self-serving: he alleges that Ferris aimed to replace Rawiri Waititi as male co-leader, with Kapa-Kingi eyeing the female co-leader spot held by Debbie Ngarewa-Packer. In short, the rebels were allegedly plotting a good old-fashioned putsch. This was a bid to grab the leadership for themselves, not to change the party’s direction.
Ferris, for his part, has mainly spoken about procedural gripes and loyalty to Kapa-Kingi, not about any alternative vision for Te Pāti Māori. It’s telling that nowhere in this revolt have we heard the dissidents outline a different policy platform or a new kaupapa for the party. There has been no call for a shift in strategy, no alternative agenda put forward, but instead just a power struggle.
Perhaps the clearest proof that this fight lacks any principled basis is the rebels’ refusal (so far) to put their own positions on the line. In 2011, when Hone Harawira fell out with the Māori Party over genuine ideological differences, he resigned from the party and from Parliament, triggering a by-election that he then fought and won under his new banner (the Mana Party). It was a bold move that demonstrated conviction. He was willing to risk everything for what he believed in.
Fast forward to today: John Tamihere has openly dared Kapa-Kingi and Ferris to follow Harawira’s example if they truly believe Te Pāti Māori has lost its way. Of course, Tamihere fully expects they won’t. As he scathingly wrote, “I guarantee Kapa-Kingi and Ferris will not do the same thing because their conduct is not based on mana, is not based on integrity and honesty or on principle. Their conduct is based on greed, avarice and entitlement.”
Harsh words, but thus far, the two rebel MPs have indeed clung to their seats. Their unwillingness to sacrifice anything for their supposed cause only bolsters Tamihere’s charge of opportunism. When you contrast this with Harawira’s principled exit, the difference is stark: Harawira walked because he stood for something; in 2025, it seems these MPs stand for nothing beyond their own careers.
In short, the Kapa-Kingi/Ferris faction has shown itself to be a rebellion without a cause. Or at least without a noble one. But does that mean Tamihere and the leadership are the “good guys” by default? Absolutely not.
A Party run like a family business
If the rebels have exposed their own lack of principle, the party establishment has hardly covered itself in glory either. Te Pāti Māori under John Tamihere’s leadership has been rife with its own integrity problems. Chief among them is an autocratic management style and a hefty dose of nepotism. Tamihere has been accused of treating the party as his personal empire, and a glance at the party’s power structure gives credence to that view.
His daughter, Dr Kiri Tamihere-Waititi, serves as Te Pāti Māori’s general manager and she also happens to be the wife of Rawiri Waititi, one of the party’s co-leaders (and thus John Tamihere’s son-in-law). In effect, the presidency, a co-leadership, and the top executive role are all held within one whānau. It’s an almost feudal setup that has not gone unnoticed in Māori political circles. When a party that preaches unity and kaupapa Māori values is run like a family business, it’s a bad look – and it raises valid questions about fairness and accountability.
Beyond the family ties, there’s the pattern of heavy-handed leadership. Tamihere’s critics (which now include not just the two MPs but various party members and observers) say he has sidelined democratic processes and centralised decision-making in a tight inner circle. Routine party functions like annual general meetings and open leadership elections have reportedly been neglected or delayed. Rank-and-file members complain of being shut out of important decisions while the president and his allies call the shots.
In fact, the very genesis of this crisis traces back to such complaints. The dissenters initially objected to what they saw as undemocratic conduct by Tamihere and the party board. Ironically, their solution was not to champion more democracy, but to attempt their own power grab.
Tamihere’s response to the internal challenge has also exposed the party’s ugly side. In the thick of the showdown, the party (essentially controlled by Tamihere’s faction) resorted to dumping embarrassing information about Kapa-Kingi into the public arena. In mid-October, a late-night email (clearly sanctioned by the leadership) was sent to media and party members detailing Kapa-Kingi’s alleged transgressions: a looming $133,000 overspend in her office budget, the fact that much of this debt was run up paying her son, and Eru Kapa-Kingi’s expletive-laden tirade at Parliamentary security staff that got him trespassed from the premises.
The leak was damning and successfully turned the spotlight onto the rebels’ own integrity issues. Yes, it showed that Kapa-Kingi had been guilty of nepotism and poor financial stewardship, just as she was accusing Tamihere of ego-driven autocracy.
But let’s be clear: this wasn’t done out of high-minded transparency. It was a political hit job, a cynical use of “dirty politics” tactics to obliterate internal opponents. Tamihere was effectively willing to scorch the earth to preserve his grip on the party. In doing so, he confirmed some of the worst fears about his leadership style.
Rather than address the substance of concerns about his governance, he went nuclear on the dissidents. The result is that both sides now stand publicly discredited – one side tarred as power-hungry schemers, the other as an authoritarian cabal that will even spill its own secrets to stay in charge.
So we are left with a bleak picture. On one side, an autocratic president who has concentrated power in his own family circle and run roughshod over internal democracy. On the other side, a pair of malcontents who have proven to be just as compromised by nepotism, entitlement and lack of principle. It’s a struggle in which, frankly, no one’s mana is coming out intact. This ugly bust-up has revealed a party with serious integrity deficits across the board.
Collateral damage for Māori representation
For Māori voters who turned to Te Pāti Māori as a vehicle for political empowerment, watching this spectacle has been disillusioning and sad. It’s hard to overstate how damaging the past weeks have been. This is not just for the party itself, but for Māori politics in general. Te Pāti Māori campaigned as the unified voice of Māori aspirations, a movement guided by kaupapa and hope. Now it has devolved into a public scrap that seems to be about egos rather than issues.
While the party’s leadership and rebels trade blows, the real issues facing Māori communities (entrenched poverty, unaffordable housing, health inequities, etc) have all but vanished from the conversation. The people Te Pāti Māori purports to serve are left watching their supposed champions turn on each other. It’s little wonder many Māori voters feel betrayed and angry. This was the party meant to fight for them, and instead it’s fighting only itself.
The implosion has also spurred a wider debate about the nature and future of Māori political representation. Te Pāti Māori often claims to be the only authentic Māori voice in Parliament, the sole party that truly represents Māori interests. That mantle now rings hollow. As one prominent young Māori commentator (none other than Eru Kapa-Kingi, the rebel leader’s son) pointed out, it’s simply not true that power for Māori sits with any one party: “Power doesn’t sit with one party – it sits with the people”. He insisted that Te Pāti Māori has no monopoly on speaking for Māori.
Indeed, if Te Pāti Māori cannot get its act together, Māori voters may well look elsewhere for political leadership, or disengage entirely out of frustration. Political loyalty is not a given; it must be earned and maintained through integrity and performance. Right now, Te Pāti Māori is squandering both.
Unsurprisingly, commentators across the political spectrum have piled in with their analysis of this fiasco. Many see it as symptomatic of deeper issues that have long plagued the Māori Party project. Veteran columnist Chris Trotter, for example, has long questioned whether Te Pāti Māori can reconcile its radical, protest-movement roots with the pragmatism needed for parliamentary politics. The current chaos seems to confirm his worst suspicions: that without a binding kaupapa, the party would eventually succumb to factionalism and personality cults.
On the right, pundit Matthew Hooton has argued that Te Pāti Māori’s “great conceit” was its claim to uniquely represent all Māori when in reality it has never won more than a minority of Māori voters. Even at the party’s high point in 2023, Hooton notes, it got only about 3% of the total party vote (perhaps one in six Māori voters) and failed to win majorities in most of the Māori electorates.
In his view, the media has often inflated Te Pāti Māori’s importance. Now, with the party airing its dirty laundry daily, its credibility is at an all-time low, and those earlier critiques are looking prescient. Why would voters stick with a party that seems more focused on internal drama than on delivering for Māori communities?
Adding to the critique is the charge that Te Pāti Māori has become more performative than productive, a party big on symbolism and theatrics but short on substantive wins. One commentator bluntly asked of the party, “Why are they even in Parliament – to achieve things for their people, or just to use it as a stage for their theatre?”
It’s a damning question. Te Pāti Māori’s leaders have indeed excelled at attracting attention, from Rawiri Waititi’s iconic hat and haka in Parliament to fiery rhetoric on the campaign trail. But attention is not the same as progress. If the party cannot show gains for the people it represents, all the protest symbolism in the world won’t save it from voters’ judgment.
The current turmoil makes it seem like the party has been using its platform mainly to posture and flex, rather than to negotiate tangible improvements for Māori. That may be an unfair perception – the party would surely point to policies it’s championed – but perception matters hugely in politics. Right now the perception is that Te Pāti Māori has collapsed into exactly what its critics always said it was: a vehicle for personalities, not principles; a platform for individuals, not ideas.
Time to rebuild integrity or face oblivion
In the end, Te Pāti Māori’s turmoil stands as a cautionary tale of how political movements falter without integrity and purpose. All the ingredients of an integrity failure are on display here: power concentrated in unaccountable hands, nepotism in key roles, rules and processes ignored, financial improprieties swept under the rug, and a lack of transparency breeding mistrust. The rebels, rather than offering a clean alternative, ended up mirroring many of those same failings – making this fight as much a clash of egos as anything else. The net effect is that a party which rode a wave of hope and kaupapa less than two years ago is now tarnished by accusations of “dirty politics” and a “toxic” leadership culture. As history shows, movements that revolve around personalities can quickly unravel, leaving the people they purport to serve in the lurch. Te Pāti Māori is now dangerously close to that unravelling point.
Is there a way back? Possibly, but it would require a serious course correction and a recommitment to basic principles. If there is any silver lining to this ugly saga, it’s that the issues have been dragged into the sunlight. The party can no longer pretend all is well internally. To survive, Te Pāti Māori must confront its internal dysfunction head on and undertake some deep cleaning.
It may also take a changing of the guard. Whether that means John Tamihere stepping aside, or the dissident MPs leaving for good (or perhaps both), is for the party to decide. But business as usual cannot continue. The party’s credibility has taken a serious hit, and restoring it will require humility and likely some new faces. Te Pāti Māori must prove that it is bigger than one man’s empire or one family’s entitlement, and also bigger than one kuia’s ego or one hīkoi leader’s ambitions. So far, it has looked like a contest between a king and a queen bee, each trying to rule the hive. The party must show it is more than that. Perhaps as a movement of the people, not the plaything of a few.
For now, Te Pāti Māori’s turmoil leaves Māori politics at a crossroads. The promise that the party once held, of a proud, independent Māori voice in Parliament championing its people, is hanging by a thread. If the party cannot regain its integrity and unity of purpose, it risks fading into irrelevance or imploding entirely. That would be a loss not just for the party faithful but for Māori voters who deserve strong representation.
Dr Bryce Edwards
Director of The Integrity Institute
Further Reading:
Thomas Manch (Post): John Tamihere challenges rogue MPs to split from Te Pāti Māori (paywalled)
Giles Dexter (RNZ): ‘Greed, avarice, and entitlement’ - Te Pāti Māori president urges MPs to quit
Adam Pearse (Herald): Te Pāti Māori: John Tamihere’s call for MPs to quit ‘unhelpful’ to reconciliation attempts – Iwi leaders’ forum
Anneke Smith (RNZ): Iwi leaders step in as Te Pāti Māori tensions escalate
Adam Pearse (RNZ): Te Pāti Māori electorate branch launches petition urging president John Tamihere to resign
Chris Trotter (Interest): Turning Te Pāti Māori towards the urban Māori working-class would be an exceedingly dangerous move
Laura Walters (Newsroom): Founding member of Te Pāti Māori calls for Tamihere’s resignation
Martyn Bradbury: Kapa-Kingi’s & Doc Ferris put ego before waka and suicide bomb Te Pati Māori leadership – is it all over?
Lloyd Burr (Stuff): The curious case of Oriini Kaipara’s ‘repossessed’ campaign truck
Māni Dunlop: Te Pāti Māori executive under pressure as suspension process faces backlash
Adam Pearse (Herald): National iwi leaders request meeting with Te Pāti Māori to address distracting ‘internal challenges’
Matthew Hooton (Herald): Te Pāti Māori split boosts Chris Hipkins as Labour steadies centre ground (paywalled)
Māni Dunlop (Te Ao News): Iwi Chairs call for hui with Te Pāti Māori amid party turmoil
Glenn McConnell (Stuff): Powerful group of Māori leaders steps in to Te Pāti Māori fallout
Adam Pearse (Herald): Te Pāti Māori president John Tamihere implies two MPs should resign after alleged leadership challenge
David Farrar: The TPM putsch is on
1News: Te Pāti Māori president fires back at MPs after calls to resign
Centrist: Is the media really ignoring Te Pāti Māori or protecting it?
Adam Pearse (Herald): Te Pāti Māori MP’s son Eru Kapa-Kingi claims legal action initiated as rift with party deepens
Te Ahipourewa Forbes (1News): Te Pāti Māori: What the heck is going on?
The problem is not with Maori, or Te Pati Maori, and it is not so much even with the individuals concerned. Jockeying for position goes on in all parliamentary political parties but for the most part it is kept out of the public gaze as you have acknowledged. In fact, one of the main criticisms of Te Pati Maori is that it let its divisions spill out into public instead of being kept decently behind closed doors in the manner of other parties. I personally would rather have those divisions, personality conflicts and rivalries not present, but if they exist I would prefer to know they exist, and I think most Maori have a similar view of things. "Keeping up appearances" is not the top priority for Maori, as it is for many Europeans.
The source of the problem in Te Pati Maori is that the party is organised according to Westminster principles rather than rangatiratanga. Under the Westminster system, and particularly its MMP variant, no one has a clue how much public support there is for a particular list member of parliament. That was the crux of the Green Party imbroglio over Darleen Tana. Even constituency MPs cannot show whether or not they have continuing support in a political crisis (consider for example the case of National Party MP Sam Uffindell).
Most importantly, in the Westminster system there is no way that the collective voters can front up and say to an MP "We voted for you and we now think that you are pursuing your own interests rather than ours, and we want you to pull your head in or we will withdraw our mandate".
Rangatiratanga would solve all these problems through the mechanisms of continuous election, self-determined constituencies and the open ballot.
So let's go looking for across the board solutions for the country's political woes, rather than focusing solely on Te Pati Maori, which is only one example of how the Westminster system can let the people down.
Thanks for the perfect breakdown of the fiasco. What a farce that these idiots get to sit in the House of Representatives. The Speaker needs to grow one and stop any ‘theatrics’ when they happen. Dress code has to be upheld, so many basic necessities for common civility please. Like Jordan Peterson would say, tidy your room, make your bed, the beginnings of true adulthood.