Marama Davidson is planting seeds across South Auckland. The Herald is pouring salt on the soil with a pollster who moonlights for Labour — and calling it journalism.
They did not fail to feed the tamariki. They costed it, minuted it, and chose the landlords instead — 47,500 more children pushed into hardship while $2.9 billion went up the ladder. The moral failure is not hidden. It is filed, footnoted, and signed by ministers of the Crown.
They put their promise to Ngāpuhi in writing, then tore it up 263 days later — because Federated Farmers asked them to and the Taxpayers' Union paid to make them. This is not reform. It is an auction, and the whenua is the lot on the block.
They didn't debate Te Tiriti out of the classroom — they tried to disappear it in a paperwork shuffle, and when the OIA request cracked the cabinet open, they blamed a "mistake." I don't believe in mistakes that happen twice, in the same direction, by the same hand.
They are holding a match over the pātaka, charging the public for the petrol, dressing up discarded politicians as "the next generation" — and now asking to be paid again to put out the fire they lit themselves.
A white-supremacist-adjacent neoliberal coalition sent New Zealand's flag into a Washington summit built on a fifty-year-old statistic, while the actual killers of Christchurch keep organising, unwatched, in our own backyard.
The Taniwha Beneath the Zombie Line
Marama Davidson is planting seeds across South Auckland. The Herald is pouring salt on the soil with a pollster who moonlights for Labour — and calling it journalism.
They did not fail to feed the tamariki. They costed it, minuted it, and chose the landlords instead — 47,500 more children pushed into hardship while $2.9 billion went up the ladder. The moral failure is not hidden. It is filed, footnoted, and signed by ministers of the Crown.
They put their promise to Ngāpuhi in writing, then tore it up 263 days later — because Federated Farmers asked them to and the Taxpayers' Union paid to make them. This is not reform. It is an auction, and the whenua is the lot on the block.
A white-supremacist-adjacent neoliberal coalition sent New Zealand's flag into a Washington summit built on a fifty-year-old statistic, while the actual killers of Christchurch keep organising, unwatched, in our own backyard.
Ivor Jones The Māori Green Lantern
The Messages Kia ora Aotearoa, I hope you acknowledged Matariki in your own way and are well. On the morning of 10 July 2026, Paul Moon sent two messages to me via LinkedIn in response to my prior essay on his affiliations and platform choices. Message One, 7:38am: "
They dipped our fathers in PCP, buried the evidence under concrete, and now they’re sinking petrol tanks into the same poisoned whenua — then asking Māori to smile at the ribbon‑cutting.
They didn't just light the whare on fire — they sold the flames to donors, invoiced our mokopuna for the ashes, and dismantled every hose we had left to put it out.
He invokes the Treaty of Rarotonga to condemn a dummy warhead while washing 67 nuclear bombs, 152 dead civilians, and 50,000 Palestinian corpses off Washington's hands. The Pacific is not fooled. Whānau should not be either.
THE SHEEP, THE FLAMETHROWER, AND THE BURNING WHARE
This white supremacist neoliberal government didn't just fail to protect your whānau from tobacco. It sold them to the corporation that profits from their addiction — and now it wants your vote for cleaning up the ash.
They call it “digital modernisation”. I call it feeding Māori whenua and Pacific futures into Trump’s technofascist meat grinder — one Arcadia keystroke at a time.
They sell cages as compassion and exclusion as common sense, while the same white supremacist neoliberal machine keeps its boot on Māori throats and its hand in migrant pockets.
A Systematic Demolition of the 54th Parliament's Justifications for Bypassing Democracy — Every Claim, Every Lie, Every Live Link
E te whānau, I need to say this plainly. This work costs something. Not just money. Not just time. It costs concentration, sleep, emotional steadiness, and the ability to keep returning to material that is designed to exhaust you. The work published on The Māori Green Lantern sits inside that
He forged a ghost to hide a corrupt paper trail, spat on Pacific and Indian dignity, and now wants the keys to the public broadcaster for a government that rewards cruelty as policy
They didn't break the machine. They built it. They lost it. Now they want it back — and they're promising to keep it running.