In February 2017, roughly seven months out from that year's general election, I wrote that over the last two years a new divide had emerged (or rather re-emerged) within Māori
politics. It had come to my attention that the Māori Party, choosing to be
absorbed by the National coalition, had become complacent and had begun to lose
popular support to the Labour Party. Upon further inquiries into this I
discovered what I had long suspected – Labour’s Māori politicians had begun
accentuating class politics in predominantly rural communities to counter the
feeble culturalism of the Māori Party. They had also pointed out
the government’s close relationship to the growing iwi elite and how the
existence of the group was perpetuating inequality within Māoridom.
This strategy proved to be hugely successful for Labour, as I had predicted,
achieving a clean sweep of the seven Māori seats in the election – which was
also crucial to their usurpation of National from office.
Almost exactly a year later we have seen that this new appreciation of
Māori
class politics was not mere talk from opposition to get Labour elected.
Bravely, Jacinda Ardern’s Waitangi speech made the new government’s position on
Māori
inequity lucidly clear. Political scientist Bryce Edwards noticed as much in
his recent round-up, describing it broadly as a shift from the previous
government’s espousal of culturalist ideology, to a universalist
social-democratic approach. Grant Robertson confirmed this shift shortly
afterwards. We would not be having a reprisal of the evanescent ‘Closing the
Gaps’ solution that Helen Clark’s Labour tested in government. There will be
many who see this as Labour turning its back on its promises to Māori,
as John Tamihere (who is one of the main practitioners of Māori
class politics) has recently remarked confusingly. But this shift in approach
for Labour should be watched closely, and with approval, by the political left.
The truth about the culturalist ideology that previous
governments believed would solve Māori inequality is that it does not,
and will never, work. If anything, such ideologies by design are set up in
order to perpetuate those inequalities. This ideology includes the portrayal of
Māori
as a homogeneous, marginalised ‘indigenous’ tribal collective, and the
promotion of ‘indigeneity’ as an ahistorical phenomenon that exists
antagonistically to a ‘settler’ identity. Such fictive constructions often have
a partial truth underlying them, but given the recent exacerbation of Māori
class inequalities, the consensual power of the ‘indigenous’ identity is starting
to erode. Ironically, its deployment by the Māori elite is also starting to
fray relations between Māori and other New Zealanders. The idea that Māori
are a unified tribal collective paints a false picture of the effects of
culturalist policies, to the extent that given recent Treaty settlement payouts
(set up to compensate Māori for colonial oppression and historical grievance) many
New Zealanders believe that all Māori have benefited and those who are
still poor have simply ‘squandered’ their share. In fact only a very small
group of Māori
have benefited from the Treaty settlement process. This group is now a
recognisable ‘class-for-itself’ that has significant Crown-legitimated
political influence and controls billions of dollars of essentially privately-owned
and corporate assets.
Nevertheless, middle-class academics and political
pundits persist in deploying this category. While it is absolutely excellent to
see that support for solutions to Māori disadvantage, as well as learning
the Māori
language – an official language of Aotearoa – has become popular, what is also
becoming popular are the common self-made stereotypes used in a significant
amount of Māori
academic literatures. We hear such dogmas about ‘Māori culture’ including: it is
matriarchal and has always supported gender fluidity, it is rural and attuned
to nature, it is particularly whanau-oriented, everything can be explained
through genealogy, etc. These claims are essentially Romantic bromides which
are very common and are not limited to the idle, evidence-free musings of certain Māori
academics. All over the world we see similar variants of these nostalgic
sentiments, longing for a return to nature, to the safety of family bonds, etc.
The political left, rather than suspecting such claims,
have claimed them as their own. When the Māori Party was first set up it
maintained the illusion that it was a ‘social-democratic’ party, similar to
Labour, with the main difference being that it campaigned on ‘Māori
issues’. The vast majority of mainstream liberal-left pundits still believe
this. In the last election this idea was dispelled and the Māori
Party were evicted from office, shocking much of the liberal-left. It was revealed to the electorate that the Māori
Party were now viewed by Māori themselves, rightly, as a deeply conservative party
that had abandoned redistributive solutions to Māori material disadvantage and
had been reduced to meaningless platitudes about Māori unity that coincided with
National’s ignorance of continued social inequality. Labour’s attacks to its
left meant the Māori Party struggled to tread water. There was also denials
that the party was on the wrong track. One Māori Party candidate, during
the election campaign, wrote that the very phrase “Māori elite” was racist and
“distorts how Māori view who they are”. Such phrases are an extraordinary
attack on democracy and the ability of Māori to think independently of their
tribal leaders. Despite this, these sentiments were supported by much of the
self-righteous liberal-left, who had no idea just how offside with
working-class Māori they in fact were.
The fact that the largely Pākehā, middle-class liberal-left
supported the ideology of the Māori Party goes to the heart of how
disfigured the ‘left’ label has become today. Although the Marxist ‘left’ has
of course historically had problems, its basic programme was to eliminate class
society, which by extension meant any institution that separated people into
racial groups and systematically discriminated against people. Even social
democrats used to predominantly focus on class politics, often to the neglect
of other important issues. This is the major criticism used by the
liberal-left, which focuses on identity politics at the expense of class
politics, to marginalise the traditionally dominant class-based left. The
problem that exists today with this criticism is that it does not recognise any
recent changes within capitalism (which as it happens are extremely
significant) nor how these changes have affected the efficacy of liberal-left
politics. Because today’s capitalism has now incorporated the politics of
diversity into its class reconfiguration processes, identity politics is now
relatively powerless to do anything besides influence situational rights-based
issues.
The liberal-left’s problem was that it wrongly saw in the
Māori
Party’s deeply conservative culturalism a reflection of its own identity
politics. Because, for the liberal-left, any talk about empowering marginalised
people is automatically progressive, it imbued the Māori Party with progressive
significance. Although this may have been the Māori Party’s original
intention, the liberal-left did not notice the changes that the party underwent
during its time in the National coalition government. The party slowly inducted
leading members of the Iwi Chairs Forum and the Iwi Leaders Group, and adopted
increasingly conservative policies, while the liberal-left only saw its
rhetoric about Māori disadvantage and the fact that the Māori
Party voted against a significant amount of National’s legislation. It believed
the false claim that the role of the Māori Party was to hold the National
government to account from its confidence-and-supply position, which, as we can
see from the Green Party’s struggle in the current government, was never a
legitimate claim. It thus also believed the gratuitous tantrums of Marama Fox
after the party’s election loss: statements that Māori “lost their independent
voice” and “returned to their abusers [Labour]”. In reality, the Māori
Party was, as any coalition partner is, crucial to the upholding of the
National government. This is also what working-class Māori voters saw and why they
responded with vengeance against the party.
Culturalism is actually an ideology that has its origins
on the political right. Key European philosophers that can be labelled as such
include Herder, Nietzsche, and Heidegger, all of whom are known for their
reactionary beliefs. Nietzsche and Heidegger were key inspirations for German
fascism. The key pillars of the dominant form of culturalism include the
reduction of everything to value-judgments and interpretations, a view of truth
as relative, a view of the world as hypostatically separated into discrete
units that can be called ‘cultures’, and the incommensurability of cultural
viewpoints. These pillars are now common on the left of politics, to its peril.
Although it is now common to associate the new social movements of the 1960s
and 70s with culturalism and identity politics, what separated such movements
from these ideologies is that they achieved their goals based on collective
organisation and struggle to achieve concrete political advancement. Those
movements did not believe in the precepts of culturalism as intensely as the
liberal-left does today. Nga Tamatoa, for instance, was a movement that united
liberal and conservative as well as Māori and Pākehā allies. Identity politics
today has few concrete goals in sight and is no longer interested in unity, but
rather solipsistic division. This is
because culturalism, when pushed to its extreme as the liberal-left and the Māori
Party have done, actually swings from being something vaguely nebulous or even
somewhat helpful to a reactionary political force that invites people to
identify with exclusionary labels in order to insulate themselves against
others.
It was not just blindness to the Māori Party’s growing flaws that
reinforced its support from the liberal-left. The structural features of the
liberal-left’s identity politics played an important role in the retention of
its fellowship. Key to the operation of identity politics is the elevation of
self-appointed, self-elevated ‘cultural’ representatives that claim to speak
for the interests of particular categories of marginalised people. It is the
instruction to all good ‘allies’ that they listen to such representatives
without question, as in their relativist universe where without truth there is
a vacuum of meaning, their word is the gospel that fills the void. Māori
members of Parliament in the Māori seats are almost, in a sense,
bound to this role institutionally. The Māori Party, however, embraced
this role as it labelled itself the “independent voice for Māori”.
Liberal-left allies were thus affirmed in their positions by being in lockstep
with such a party, even as it continued to attack Labour and the Greens for
opposing its conservative social policies and right-wing economic initiatives.
What is ironic is that many of these ‘cultural representatives’ come from the
middle-class or even elite, and are hardly ‘marginalised’ at all. The
impoverished majority of Māori in fact have many opposing views to them, but they
have for a long time been disenfranchised and silenced by the noise about the
‘indigenous collective’. Time will tell whether the recent election, which
exposed this growing antagonism, will lead to a revelatory moment for the
liberal-left. So far, however, it appears that the liberal-left are quite happy
to continue existing in their delusional bubble.
The main difference between the Marxist left and the
identity-focused liberal-left is not that ‘one respects identity while the
other does not’. It is not ‘class reductionism versus a more intersectional’
approach. Both of these are the excuses the liberal-left has armed itself with
to legitimise its behaviour of paying lip service to class politics and
marginalise the Marxist or even soft-workerist left. Marxism has far more
progressive positions on racial ideology and gender than identity politics or
liberalism does, with a longer history to boot – so much for ‘disrespect’.
‘Intersectionality’ is just an analytical mess that in most cases privileges
identity politics and reduces the causal power of class, which is in fact the
primary mechanism through which material society is organised. Thus it commonly
leads to serious theoretical misapprehensions. The liberal-left’s craven excuses
should not be believed by anyone serious about the perpetual debate going on
amongst the left about how to reconcile ‘class’ and ‘identity’ politics.
The truth is that the main difference is an ontological
one. This is a point rarely explored by either side, largely left to
philosophers. It goes to the heart of how we conceive of reality and the nature
of being in the world. All political ideas presuppose a particular ontological
position that often goes unacknowledged. The Marxist left believes in the
theory of historical materialism, and today is increasingly also scientifically
naturalist and materialist. Reality is organised according to antagonisms
correspondent to the social organisation of production. We can thus identify
key tendencies – not laws but
tendencies – that are verified by historical evidence, as well as making
predictions on what the future holds if such conditions were to change. An
objective reality exists that is shared by all who observe it. Certain
phenomena may mean that there are variations in how that reality is
experienced, but the reality exists nonetheless in this case. This
mind-independent reality is how we give meaning to our experiences.
The alternative to an objective reality is solipsism, which
funnily enough happens to converge with the position of the identity-based
liberal-left. The liberal-left in the main disavows the idea of a mind-independent
reality. What is common to all members of the liberal-left is their relativism
on the question of truth. They believe in the empty-headed statement that each
‘culture’ – or, in extreme variants, each person – has its own ‘truth’ or
version of how the world works. It is held that none of these versions are
false. This incoherent idea should be rejected. It also does not work in
practice, as critics like Slavoj Žižek have shown in an admittedly
roundabout way. The liberal-left’s relativist discourse implies universal
tolerance and respect, but in reality such tolerance can never hold. There is
always an undesirable ‘other’ that is excluded – in this case it is
working-class Māori that were not listened to by the liberal-left, in
favour of the publicly available self-appointed ‘representatives’ of Māori
in Parliament and on social media. The liberal-left’s cultural relativism is a
deeply hypocritical position that has divisive implications.
Putting this tortuous debate with the liberal-left to one
side – and I have no doubt the liberal-left will simply ignore it, to its own
disadvantage – the question remains as to whether Labour is able to deliver on
its new rhetoric of universalism and its promises to lift people out of
poverty. This is why the political left should watch closely with only some approval at the shift that has
occurred. Labour is still showing signs that it is a government of compromise.
It has revived the overwhelmingly unpopular Trans-Pacific Partnership
Agreement, which allows corporations to sue governments that pass laws
affecting their abilities to conduct business. It has also relaxed its
commitments to roll-back National’s punitive employment law and social welfare
policies, leaving some of their revanchist measures intact. This is despite
serious lobbying and discomfort of both of Labour’s coalition partners. Despite
the powerful and sincerely inspiring oration and genuineness of Jacinda Ardern,
there are many examples where Labour has had to be dragged kicking and screaming
to adopt basic modern social-democratic positions. New Zealand First had to
force Labour into higher increases to the minimum wage than the latter
campaigned on. The Greens have pushed Labour towards being more environmentally
conscientious.
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