Lecture 4 Required Reding - Textbook Chapter 1

Active citizenship and democracy: voice, stakeholders and civil society

Sustaining democracy fundamentally rests on active citizenship, where individuals, through their citizenship status, are empowered to engage in activities that meaningfully influence the wider community. In vibrant democracies like Aotearoa New Zealand, the ability to voice concerns and influence powerful entities is the essence of active citizenship, most commonly exercised through the act of voting to elect representatives. However, an exclusive focus on representative government risks overlooking the crucial importance of numerous other institutions and social practices that are absolutely essential for a stable and functioning democracy. Robust consultation with diverse stakeholders and the cultivation of a healthy civil society are paramount, especially within a nation as culturally and socially diverse as New Zealand. Stakeholders are precisely defined as individuals, groups, or entities with vested interests in a particular place, issue, or outcome. Civil society, on the other hand, encompasses a broad array of non-profit, non-governmental, and cooperative organisations that collectively provide the foundational frameworks and intricate networks through which people can collaborate both for their specific interests and for the broader collective good. The dynamic relationship among individual citizens, the state, and civil society constitutes a delicate and often complex balance, intricately shaped by competing stakeholder interests, which civil society endeavors to mediate—though undeniably not always perfectly. In this context, civil society acts as an imperfect yet indispensable proxy for articulating and advancing stakeholder interests, and its concerted activity—particularly when strategically coordinated through effective networks and coalitions—serves as a potent driver of social and political change. This includes mobilising voters, bringing pressing issues to public attention, offering independent and expert policy advice to government, and crucially, holding governmental bodies to account for their actions and omissions.

The state is foundational to understanding how civil society and stakeholder groups instigate and effect change. Max Weber, in his seminal 1919 definition, characteristically defined the state as the singular institution possessing a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory. This fundamental monopoly, coupled with its immense fiscal powers derived from taxation and extensive state spending, grants the state expansive authority to regulate economic activities, profoundly redistribute wealth through social programs, and provide essential public goods and services where the market mechanism inherently fails or proves insufficient. In Aotearoa New Zealand, the comprehensive scope of the state extends to essential public services such as an expansive network of roads, public schools, and hospitals, alongside powerful coercive institutions including the police force, the military, the pervasive prison system, stringent border controls, and critical public health measures like medical quarantine powers. The state exercises its considerable power through the three distinct yet interconnected branches of the Westminster system: Parliament (the legislative body), the courts (the judiciary), and the executive (the Cabinet, which, by deeply ingrained convention, is led by the prime minister). Cabinet functions as the primary decision-making body of government, and in the New Zealand context, it is colloquially referred to as “the government” itself. While specific governments change periodically with general elections, the wider, enduring state apparatus persists beyond any single political administration. At times, the state is also conceptualised and described as the Crown, a framing that explicitly recognises its actions are undertaken in the name of the reigning sovereign; this particular framing holds significant relevance, especially in discussions pertaining to the Treaty of Waitangi and its constitutional implications.

The Westminster system, as adopted in New Zealand, undeniably concentrates significant power in the Cabinet, yet this concentration is not without crucial checks and balances. Unlike many other bicameral parliamentary systems, the New Zealand Parliament operates without an upper house, streamlining legislative processes. Furthermore, distinct from federal systems where power is constitutionally divided between central and sub-national governmental units, power in New Zealand is largely centralised. While the country's uncodified constitution does not explicitly grant the courts the power to strike down legislation as a fundamental constitutional right, significant checks on executive power are nonetheless embedded within the system. These include robust judicial independence, constitutionally mandated regular general elections held every 3 years, and the Mixed-Member Proportional (MMP) voting system, which encourages coalition governments and broader representation. The electoral franchise in New Zealand is remarkably broad by international standards, allowing non-citizens with permanent residency to vote, and notably, prisoners serving less than 3 years are also permitted to vote, a right affirmed by the Electoral (Registration of Sentenced Prisoners) Amendment Act (No. 2) 2020. There have also been persistent and notable recent efforts, such as the widely publicised Make it 16 campaign, to advocate for lowering the national voting age to 16, with proponents arguing that the current age of 18 is inconsistent with fundamental rights protected under the Bill of Rights Act 1990. Collectively, these various elements powerfully illustrate that political power in New Zealand is predicated upon a dynamic and often precarious balance among the state, its enduring institutions, and a diverse range of actively engaged actors.

Liberal freedoms—frequently described as negative freedoms because their essence lies in emphasizing freedom from state interference or coercion—are absolutely central to the functioning of liberal democracy. These freedoms are indispensable as they enable individuals to freely express themselves, assemble peacefully, and practice their beliefs without undue governmental intrusion. Crucially, they also underpin the fundamental ability of groups to robustly criticise powerful interests and governmental policies without fear of official reprisal or persecution. International organisations such as the Economist Intelligence Unit and Freedom House consistently rank liberal democracies highly for their robust protection of political rights and civil liberties. However, it is vital to recognise that constitutional frameworks, no matter how meticulously drafted, are only truly robust and effective when they are supported by deeply ingrained social norms: a profound respect for the rule of law, a genuine tolerance of opposing viewpoints, and widespread public participation in democratic processes are all utterly essential for their sustained vitality. The inherent fragility of these democratic norms was starkly exposed by the violent aftermath that tragically followed the electoral defeat of U.S. President Donald Trump, powerfully underscoring that not only must rulers consistently practice democratic norms, but the general public must also actively uphold and defend them. Consequently, these cherished liberal freedoms are inextricably linked with profound responsibilities: the obligation to actively maintain core liberal values, to conscientiously participate in government, to hold corrupt or incompetent leadership accountable through democratic means, to diligently follow commonly agreed-upon rules and norms, and importantly, to respectfully tolerate legitimate political opposition. Furthermore, positive freedoms—defined as freedoms to act or to achieve—complement negative freedoms by actively enabling collective action, as individuals often require extensive collaboration and shared effort to effectively influence public policy and mobilise into impactful mass movements.

Effective democratic participation requires considerably more than merely casting a ballot; it profoundly depends on how citizens engage in ongoing discourse and collective action. The public sphere—historically linked to Jürgen Habermas’s influential account of open and rational discussion about society-wide issues—possesses deep roots in both ancient and modern spaces, ranging from traditional town halls to inclusive public forums like the hui in Aotearoa. The advent of widespread literacy and the development of mass communication technologies significantly fostered the emergence of a robust public sphere, with traditional media and print publications initially amplifying public debate, and more recently, the widespread adoption of the internet and social media platforms further expanding participatory spaces and avenues for discussion. However, the traditional private/public distinction within civil society has faced substantial critiques: second-wave feminists powerfully argued that deeply personal experiences are inherently political and that public life has historically been significantly male-dominated; similarly, Māori conceptions of social organisation—encompassing whānau (family), hapū (sub-tribe), and iwi (tribe)—fundamentally challenge simplistic public/private binaries, instead emphasizing interwoven responsibilities, reciprocal relationships, and collective well-being. Despite such valid criticisms and evolving understandings, civil society has consistently endured as a vital mechanism for fostering collective action and driving profound social change, lending crucial support to diverse movements from the struggle for women’s rights to the ongoing processes of decolonisation in Aotearoa.

Stakeholder theory critically foregrounds the imperative need to accurately identify and effectively engage with all those who possess interests in a given issue, project, or policy. Stakeholders can encompass a wide spectrum of entities, including individual citizens, organised groups, or formal organisations, all of whom may have overlapping, opposing, or critically important stakes in the ultimate outcomes. The illustrative example of a proposed rubbish dump vividly demonstrates how a multitude of people can be classified as stakeholders, yet some invariably possess greater stakes and significantly enhanced capacities to mobilise politically. The extensive literature on stakeholder theory largely originated within the corporate sector, with R. Edward Freeman’s highly influential definition describing stakeholders comprehensively as those who can affect or are affected by the achievement of an organization’s objectives. This powerful conceptual framework is immensely helpful in strategically planning change by systematically mapping out all relevant stakeholders, meticulously understanding their often-overlapping interests, proactively anticipating potential opposition, and judiciously determining the appropriate level and style of engagement required. A common and invaluable practical tool in this process is a stakeholder matrix, which systematically categorises stakeholders based on their relative power and interest (e.g., classifying them as primary, secondary, and tertiary stakeholders), alongside frameworks that distinguish between those who possess the ability to influence outcomes and those who are primarily and directly affected by them. In practical terms, effective stakeholder engagement necessitates a delicate balancing act to reconcile the often-divergent needs of diverse groups, a genuine commitment to actively listening to those most directly affected, and the crucial integration of stakeholder information and feedback into the core design and implementation phases of projects. A failure to engage effectively and meaningfully can severely jeopardise projects, generating widespread opposition even from individuals or groups who might otherwise stand to benefit significantly from the proposed changes.

Mana whenua and the foundational Treaty of Waitangi occupy a distinct and immensely special place in the landscape of stakeholder engagement within Aotearoa. Mana whenua are not merely another conventional stakeholder category; they embody and hold traditional authority over a whenua (land), an authority deeply rooted in their whakapapa (genealogy) and enduring, profound connections to specific tracts of land, rivers, and seas. Legally and constitutionally, consultation with iwi (tribes) and hapū (sub-tribes) is a solemn constitutional duty, firmly grounded in the principles derived from the Treaty of Waitangi. Notably, this includes the Principle of Cooperation, which explicitly requires mutual good faith and genuine, meaningful consultation on all issues that significantly affect Māori. The Crown is thus obligated to act in accordance with these fundamental Treaty principles, and a series of significant legal developments since the landmark New Zealand Maori Council v Attorney-General (1987) case have been instrumental in further defining and clarifying these crucial obligations. The Treaty’s principles are comprehensively interpreted as requiring ongoing, proactive engagement with Māori communities, with the numerous Treaty settlements having concurrently created significant new institutions that provide formal and informal platforms for mana whenua to engage constructively with both the Crown and non-Māori on shared issues of national importance. While consultation does not automatically grant a veto power, it unequivocally demands a high degree of seriousness, good faith, and a genuine commitment to understanding and accommodating Māori perspectives throughout the process.

Civil society organisations (CSOs) constitute a broad and diverse field operating primarily outside the direct control of the state, yet they are often closely linked to it through various activities such as policy advocacy, direct service delivery, and playing a crucial role in public accountability. This vast sector of civil society includes a wide array of entities such as non-governmental organisations (NGOs), charities, voluntary associations, clubs, and various community groups, which can function as either profit-displacing or primarily value-driven enterprises. The Charities Act 2005 provides a comprehensive legal framework specifically for organisations with clearly defined charitable purposes, granting them significant rights such as valuable tax advantages while imposing corresponding obligations like rigorous annual reporting requirements. The landmark Greenpeace case (Re Greenpeace, 2014) vividly illustrates the inherent tensions that can arise between political advocacy and charitable purposes, with the Supreme Court ultimately ruling that political purposes and charitable purposes are not, in fact, categorically exclusive of one another. While a substantial number of civil society organisations heavily rely on voluntary donations and the tireless efforts of volunteers, there has been a noticeable trend towards increased professionalisation within the sector, with many groups gaining access to public contracts and government grants. However, persistent inequality plagues civil society, as wealthier and more established organisations can mobilise substantially more resources, which regrettably may afford them disproportionate influence on political action and policy-making compared to less resourced or grassroots groups. The academic literature thus consistently recognises civil society as both an absolutely crucial medium for fostering democratic participation and simultaneously a potential arena where powerful actors can unfortunately exert undue dominance.

Democratic pluralism classically posits that numerous groups with diverse and often competing interests vie for influence within the political arena, with the state theoretically acting as a neutral arbiter among them. Yet, this model has faced significant and enduring critiques. Early pluralists optimistically argued that civil society broadly represented the interests of all segments of society, but influential scholars such as E.E. Schattschneider trenchantly argued that the perceived “heavenly chorus” of groups often overwhelmingly echoed an upper-class perspective, marginalising other voices. Neopluralism emerged as a response, acknowledging that civil society’s influence is indeed unevenly distributed and that the state itself may, consciously or unconsciously, favour certain groups over others. Marxist analyses fundamentally divide society into base (economic structure) and superstructure (political and ideological institutions), powerfully emphasising how the ownership and control of the means of production profoundly influence political outcomes; Antonio Gramsci, building on this, further stressed the critical role of both civil and political society in shaping and maintaining hegemonic norms and dominant ideologies. Public choice theory, in contrast, offers a more critical perspective on the influence of interest groups, frequently framing public policy as often distorted by processes of “rent-seeking” and the narrow pursuit of private gains, especially exacerbated when funding for political campaigns and direct political influence is highly concentrated among the wealthy elite. In New Zealand, ongoing debates about democratic pluralism deeply intersect with the nation’s practical policy history, particularly the profound shift from a mid-20th-century utilitarian welfare-state policymaking approach to the extensive neoliberal reforms of the late 20th century, and the subsequent rise of public choice influences that prioritised market mechanisms and individual choice.

The New Zealand context distinctively traces a trajectory from mid-20th-century utilitarian policy to late-20th-century neoliberal reform and a subsequent move toward neopluralist governance. The Liberal Government (1891–1912) significantly expanded the civil service and undertook comprehensive reforms of state functions, fundamentally laying the groundwork for greater state intervention. The First Labour Government (1935–1949) marked a transformative period, robustly building a comprehensive welfare state and extensively expanding state capacity to deliver social security provisions and critical infrastructure, operating within a predominantly Keynesian economic orientation that inextricably linked state activities with charitable organisations. Post-war social policy placed a strong emphasis on the traditional family unit, with deeply embedded gendered expectations significantly shaping who benefited from public policy. The 1960s and 1970s ushered in a new era of post-materialist concerns, heightened environmental awareness, and a broader assertiveness from civil society, evidenced by powerful movements challenging large-scale projects like the Manapouri hydro scheme. These societal shifts collectively broadened the scope of public consultation and significantly increased the participation of women and Māori in public life. The neoliberal era, spanning the profound 1984–1996 reform period, drastically reduced the size and scope of the state while concurrently expanding the roles and influence of the private sector; this period also demonstrably sought to minimise the influence of civil society in policy-making, a stance strongly associated with the public-choice preferences advocated by then-Finance Minister Roger Douglas. The introduction of the Mixed-Member Proportional (MMP) voting system in the late 1990s dramatically shifted political incentives towards broader and more inclusive stakeholder engagement, and consistently high immigration levels have further increased cultural diversity across the nation, thereby strengthening the collective bargaining power of civil society organisations and enhancing Treaty processes through strengthened mana whenua representation. Contemporary episodes, such as the Ihumātao protest, vividly illustrate ongoing tensions between highly localised interests and broader national objectives, including heated debates over crucial issues like housing affordability, land ownership, and the protection of sacred sites.

Today, New Zealand largely appears to operate under neopluralist assumptions: while no single group definitively dominates politics, it is undeniably true that some groups consistently wield significantly more influence than others. Donor contributions to political processes remain an ongoing concern that generates public debate, yet New Zealand’s political system, particularly with the mechanisms of MMP and an increasingly diversified electorate, offers considerably broader opportunities for meaningful stakeholder engagement than was available in the late 20th century. The observable shift towards greater engagement eloquently reflects a widespread recognition that truly effective policy requires the active and inclusive participation of a wide spectrum of groups, including emerging voices like youth and diverse minority communities such as Māori, Pasifika peoples, women, and the LGBTIQA+ community. Despite this welcome progress, persistent inequalities unfortunately continue to exist: factors such as age, wealth, educational attainment, and available time demonstrably afford certain groups a greater capacity to participate effectively, particularly at the local level, where public meetings are often disproportionately dominated by older participants. Proactive civil society organisations, such as Generation Zero, actively attempt to address these inherent imbalances by strategically linking young people with elected officials to facilitate more impactful climate-change engagement. The overarching question that continues to be debated is whether the move away from purely utilitarian policy has gone too far, potentially constraining the consideration of broader societal needs. Debates about NIMBYism (Not In My Backyard) versus the critical protection of sacred sites, and the challenging balancing act between local versus national interests, continue to profoundly shape governance in New Zealand. The Ihumātao case serves as a powerful contemporary example of how the government navigates and attempts to negotiate delicate trade-offs between the pressing needs of specific communities and wider, often competing, policy objectives.

Conclusion

The complex and multifaceted relationship among stakeholders, civil society, and the state is far from straightforward. Civil society undeniably offers a vital platform for robust public discourse and essential service delivery, but it does not perfectly or unreservedly represent all stakeholder interests. The actual influence of stakeholders on public policy is highly dependent on the state’s willingness and capacity to genuinely engage, as well as the resources and organisational skills available to civil society actors themselves. While civil society organisations can effectively consolidate diverse voices into one coherent and amplified platform, they can also, unfortunately, be manipulated or used to co-opt or misrepresent vulnerable groups. The current historical moment in New Zealand clearly marks a significant break from both the utilitarian mid-century framework and the neoliberal late twentieth century, with a markedly greater emphasis on engagement, albeit within a playing field that remains inherently skewed by existing power differentials. The state is now increasingly compelled to be more responsive to its diverse stakeholders, and while the MMP electoral system inherently demands government coalitions representing broad blocs of the electorate, truly transformative change still fundamentally depends on those who are able to effectively organise, mobilise, and advocate. As the chapters of this book consistently indicate, power is rarely shared willingly; therefore, actively engaged citizens, strategically adept networks, and well-resourced civil society groups are absolutely necessary to effectively drive policy reform and address deeply entrenched structural challenges such as climate change, housing affordability, and persistent inequality. The overarching and enduring lesson is that while a diverse and vibrant civil society, coupled with an open and responsive state, significantly improves prospects for more democratic outcomes, sustained and active citizen engagement remains absolutely essential for achieving meaningful and equitable policy outcomes in New Zealand and beyond.