Justice delivered for mana whenua
As a basic algorithm for justice, I’ve often thought the law is a mess. So I’ll take any moral victory, any shred of the j-word, I can grab.
Hamish Edwards, Xero co-founder (estimated by NBR to be worth $265 million), on a mission to build a golf course on dunes north of Wellington, has been told ‘‘no’’. Just, kā ore.
I still can’t quite believe it. As I’ve previously ranted: Edwards’ company Grenadier Ltd sought resource consent for work to create the links course south of Levin.
Last week the hearing panel refused to allow that work to encroach on sacred Mā ori land (wā hi tapu) in the dunes.This despite millions being at stake.
Plans were made – money spent, expectations raised.
About $50 million could be spent on the 18-hole links course, touted as potentially one of the top 100 in the world.
The commissioners explained their decision in bracingly clear detail – how it related to the regional council’s planning bible, and overarching legislation.
Among other reasons, the work ‘‘would not recognise or provide for the relationship of Ngā ti Tukorehe [mana whenua] with the ancestral land and wā hi tapu values within the site’’. This disregard of the relationship ran counter to resource consent law.
Historically speaking, Western law has rarely been kind to indigenous people. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of it so baldly endorsing mana whenua concerns (although there are hopefully many other cases).
Even one of the mana whenua, one of the Tukorehe experts who spoke so powerfully against the work in the hearings, told the decision was ‘‘courageous’’. They were as surprised by the decision as Edwards presumably was.
I know it should be a simple application of the relevant sections of legislation, precedents, but sometimes it seems the law is not so much a set of clear instructions as a buffet situation.
It allows a certain amount of grazing.
This time the people making the decisions stuck strictly to the facts as presented, the law as prescribed, and ignored the pressure of great expectations.
Appeals to consent decisions can be made to the Environment Court within 15 working days of their delivery.
Unless Grenadier plans to redesign, or downsize to a nine-hole course, it might be keen to push the matter through to the court. It has said it is ‘‘considering next steps’’.
I like golf, I’ve had plenty of fun in the past chipping away, badly, at this game. There are many worse things than an enviro-friendly course that could be plonked by Grenadier on the broader land footprint, which as the commissioners noted had already been disturbed and reshaped by modern development.
Indeed, Tukorehe is not opposed to a golf course. Things might have been different had Grenadier spoken to Ngā ti Tukorehe from the start. That is another dimension to this story: for a number of reasons Tukorehe was only belatedly consulted in the process, which during the hearing they described as a ‘‘cultural slur’’.
What a decision this is: a multimilliondollar project cannot yet walk over the profound but – monetarily at least – unquantifiable relationship between Tukorehe and their kainga, their wā hi tapu, their mana.
I’m proud as a New Zealander to see we allow decisions such as this under our laws.
I’ve struggled throughout this column to describe what the law is to me as a lay person. It’s an algorithm, it’s a buffet, it’s a mess: but today at least, I think it is just.