Polite maybe, but are iwi checkpoints legal?

Pssst. Don’t mention the checkpoints. That seems to have been the rule followed by politicians and much of the media in the four weeks since Hone Harawira and his supporters took the law into their own hands and began stopping travellers in the Far North.

The official response has been to either ignore the checkpoints or pretend they are a non-issue. On the few occasions when interviewers have asked hard questions about them, Government politicians and police have danced around the question of whether they’re legal.

If they were confident of their legality, they would surely say so. That leads us to conclude they are not. They are a calculated challenge to the rule of law.

Even Opposition MPs seem strangely hesitant about raising the subject. Either National is frightened of being labelled as racist, or it doesn’t want to risk being seen as less than 100 per cent committed to the fight against Covid-19.

In the mainstream media, the issue has been treated as a minor diversion. NewstalkZB’s Mike Hosking tried unsuccessfully to pin down the prime minister on the issue this week, but otherwise there has been little critical examination of the checkpoints’ legality and still less of what they might lead to, which is potentially an even more problematic issue.

Meanwhile, the checkpoints have spread like . . . well, like a virus. From the Far North and the East Coast, they have spread to Maketu in Bay of Plenty, to Murupara on the fringe of the Urewera, and now to Taranaki. Iwi elsewhere have asserted control over lakes and rivers by means of ra¯ hui, or bans – again, of dubious legal status.

Along the way, there has been a significant shift in the justification for the highway checkpoints. At the start, their purported purpose was to protect vulnerable Ma¯ ori communities in remote places – an objective most people could sympathise with, even though the checkpoints were set up with no mandate or legal authority other than a nod and a wink from the police.

But the original pretext began to look less convincing once checkpoints started materialising in places where there were no isolated communities to protect, and it looks even less so now that the Government has announced that the coronavirus is technically eliminated, which means the worst risk has passed.

That being the case, you might expect the vigilantes to pack up and go home. But not only are the checkpoints still there, there are more of them. This suggests that the purpose is something other than the protection of Ma¯ ori communities.

Iwi activists watched what was happening in the Far North and the East Coast, noted that no-one tried to stop it, and decided to organise their own checkpoints. All of which was utterly predictable.

Under the smokescreen of the coronavirus crisis, the activists are boldly advancing a separatist agenda. Their objective is clear from statements that they are policing their ‘‘borders’’, which implies tribal sovereignty. And the longer they are allowed to get away with it, the messier it’s likely to be when the legally constituted authorities who are supposed to govern this country intervene.

For the moment, public unease has apparently persuaded the police to take a more active role in the checkpoints. But it’s clear they are involved only in a supporting role, if they’re present at all.

Pressed to clarify the situation, Jacinda Ardern and police commissioner Andrew Coster have kicked for touch with statements of masterful ambiguity. Coster sounds much surer of himself when he’s wagging his finger at dangerous lawbreakers driving the family Honda to the beach to take the dog for a walk.

Pressed to clarify the situation, Jacinda Ardern and Andrew Coster have kicked for touch with... masterful ambiguity.

Note that I use the word checkpoint rather than roadblock. That’s because the roads, to my knowledge, aren’t physically blocked. Defenders of the checkpoints say no-one is forced to stop. But a powerful psychological factor comes into play when motorists see people – sometimes quite large people – standing on or beside the road wearing masks and hi-vis jackets, surrounded by traffic cones and holding signs saying ‘‘Stop’’.

Most people’s natural instinct is to comply, whether they’re obliged to or not. That instinct is likely to be reinforced if people on the checkpoint are wearing gang insignia, as at Murupara. Small wonder that those defending the checkpoints insist that people are happy to stop.

And having stopped, many people are either too timid or too uncertain to refuse to give personal details or answer questions about where they are going, even though their interrogators have no right to ask such questions.

Sure, the vigilantes might be polite. But that merely makes them polite bullies.