This is the first time I have had to begin an opinion column with both a journalistic disclosure and a legal disclaimer. But hey ho, these are dystopian times we live in.

The disclosure: I was one of 20 people who contributed expert reports for a recent legal submission to the British home secretary, Yvette Cooper, calling on her to end the proscription of Hamas as a terrorist organisation.

You can read my submission – on the significant damage done to journalism by Hamas’ proscription – here.

If, as widely expected, Cooper does not approve the application, prepared by the London-based Riverway Law firm on behalf of Hamas, within the 90-day time limit, her decision will be referred to an appeal tribunal for judicial review.

The disclaimer: Nothing that follows is intended in any way to encourage you to take a more favourable view of Hamas. It is not intended in any way to encourage you to support Hamas. It does not endorse opinions or beliefs that are supportive of Hamas, as set out in the submissions calling for the de-proscription of Hamas.

The danger is this: under Section 12 of Britain’s draconian Terrorism Act of 2000, if anything I write, however inadvertently, encourages you to think more favourably of a proscribed organisation like Hamas, I face up to 14 years in jail.

The purpose of this article is to show how the law and the establishment operate together to stifle legitimate criticism of the Israeli occupation.

The law is so loosely worded that the British government, supported by a counter-terrorism police seemingly only too eager to please, can potentially arrest anyone praising the work of Gaza’s public hospitals in saving lives because Hamas is in charge of the enclave’s government, or prosecute anyone, including media outlets, giving a platform to Hamas politicians trying to advance a ceasefire.

If all this sounds crazy, given both that stating facts should not be illegal and that I cannot possibly know how anyone might receive and feel about any information regarding Hamas, then you are starting to understand why the application to the home secretary is so urgent and important.

Secret meetings

The UK may have declared Hamas’ armed wing a terrorist organisation a quarter of a century ago, but its political and administrative wings were added to the proscribed list much more recently – in 2021.

Which is why Cooper, the current home secretary, was misleading in the way she dismissively responded to the de-proscription application submitted to her office. She told LBC: “Hamas has long been a terrorist organisation. We maintain our view about the barbaric nature of this organisation.”

It was Priti Patel who, as home secretary, added Hamas in its entirety, including its political and administrative wings, to the proscription list shortly after she was rehabilitated and readmitted to Boris Johnson’s government in 2019.

Two years earlier, she had been forced to resign from her post as international development secretary in disgrace.

Why? Because she was found to have held 12 secret meetings with senior Israeli officials, including Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, without disclosing those meetings to her colleagues and while she was supposedly on a family holiday.

It later emerged she had also secretly met other Israeli officials in New York and Westminster.

Patel’s political career, to put it politely, has been distinguished by an evident attentiveness to Israeli concerns.

Undoubtedly her decision to proscribe Hamas’ political and administrative wings, treating them as identical to the armed section of the organisation, was high on Israel’s wish list.

It instantly degraded Britain’s political discourse so that it became all but impossible to discuss Hamas’ rule in Gaza or Israel’s blockade of the enclave in a balanced or realistic way. It resulted in a simplistic black-and-white picture of life in the enclave in which everything Hamas was bad – and therefore, by contrast, everything Israeli was good.

That would spectacularly serve Israeli interests two years later, when, following the Hamas-led attacks on 7 October 2023, Israel fed the western media entirely fabricated stories of Hamas “beheading babies” and carrying out “mass rapes”.

For months afterwards, as Israel set about murdering Palestinians in Gaza en masse and levelling their homes, the only question media interviewers directed at anyone criticising Israel’s actions was this: “Do you condemn Hamas?”

Even the ever-swelling death toll figures recorded by Gaza’s health ministry – proven to be so reliable in previous Israeli attacks that international bodies and the Israeli military itself relied on them – were suddenly treated as suspect and inflated. Independent research continues to suggest otherwise.

Western media outlets appended “Hamas-run” to the health ministry, and its casualty figures – almost certainly a massive undercount given Israel’s systematic destruction of the health sector – were now reported only as a “claim”.

In turn, these deceptions were implicitly used to justify Israel’s own, far greater atrocities in killing and maiming hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, most of them women and children, destroying the enclave’s hospitals and supporting infrastructure, while at the same time starving the entire population.

Eighteen months on, “evil Hamas” is still the story, not Israel’s all-too-obvious genocide.

Bullied into silence

Concerns about Hamas being proscribed in its entirety – not just its armed wing – are far from hypothetical, given the expansive wording of the UK’s Terrorism Act since 2019, when it was amended.

In particular, a revision to Section 12 means that anyone who “expresses an opinion or belief that is supportive of a proscribed organisation”, and one that might “encourage support” for that organisation, is liable to arrest by terrorism police, prosecution, and up to 14 years in jail.

For expressing an opinion.

The wording is so vague that, for example, simply criticising Israel for committing greater and more numerous atrocities than Hamas could theoretically have the counter-terrorism police banging on your door.

To avoid prosecution, Riverway Law’s website dedicated to its application to the home secretary carries a legal disclaimer: “By entering this website you acknowledge that none of the contents can be understood as supporting, or expressing support for, proscribed terrorist organisations under the Terrorism Act 2000.”

Several independent British journalists and commentators – those whose careers are not dictated, and protected, by billionaires or the UK state broadcaster – have had their homes raided at dawn by counter-terrorism police or been arrested at the border as they return home.

One political commentator, Tony Greenstein – who also happens to be Jewish and a trained lawyer – is currently being prosecuted under Section 12 of the Terrorism Act. Others are under prolonged investigation. They have the threat of prosecution hanging over their heads like a sword.

The rest of us are meant to take note, feeling the chilling effect. Do we want the police breaking down the door of our homes at dawn? Do we want to be arrested on return from holiday, our partners and children looking on in horror?

The National Union of Journalists has called the police actions against journalists “abuse and mis-use of counter-terror legislation” and warned that they risk “threatening the safety of journalists”, as well as their sources.

Understandably, you may be barely aware of these repressive police tactics, which have been accelerating since Keir Starmer came to power. He, let us recall, personally approved, as opposition leader, Israel’s crime against humanity of blocking food, water and power to Gaza.

The BBC and the rest of the media have failed to meaningfully report these incidents – which are characteristic elsewhere of police states.

Is that because these media outlets are themselves cowed into submission by the Terrorism Act?

Or is it because they are simply mouthpieces of the same British establishment that made it illegal to express support for objectives which are the same as those sought by Hamas’ political, as opposed to military, objectives?

Let us remember – and it’s easy to forget, given how rarely such things are mentioned by the British media – that the same UK state that proscribed Hamas continues to arm Israel directly, helps ship weapons from other countries to Israel, supplies Israel with intelligence from British spy planes over Gaza, and provides Israel with diplomatic cover – all while Israel carries out what the International Court of Justice (ICJ) calls a “plausible genocide”, and while its sister International Criminal Court (ICC) seeks the arrest of Netanyahu for crimes against humanity.

The British government is not a neutral party in the levelling of Gaza, the decimation of its people by bombs, the ethnic cleansing of swaths of the enclave, or the starvation of the population. It is actively assisting Israel in its genocidal campaign.

The UK establishment is also, through its proscription of Hamas and the wording of the Terrorism Act, bullying journalists, academics, politicians, lawyers – in fact, anyone – into silence about the context of its complicity, into an unwillingness to scrutinise its rationalisations for collusion in genocide.

‘No civilians’

There are two main objectives behind Riverway Law’s submission to the home secretary against Hamas’ proscription as a violation of the European Convention on Human Rights.

The first concerns the proscription of the entire organisation by the British government. This is the part of the legal submission that has attracted most attention – and which has been used to vilify the lawyers involved

As barrister Franck Magennis has explained, Riverway’s hands were tied because Patel – now the shadow foreign secretary – added Hamas to the list as a single entity in 2021, making no distinction between its different wings. That meant the lawyers had no choice but to petition for the entire group to be deproscribed.

The government set the terms of the legal debate, not Hamas or its legal representatives.

Hamas’ lawyers accept that its military wing meets the definition of a terrorist organisation under the terms of the UK’s Terrorism Act. They argue this law casts the net so wide that any organisation using violence to achieve political ends is covered, including the Israeli, Ukrainian and British militaries.

The establishment media have tried to smear Riverway and its barristers as Hamas “stooges” and supporters of terrorism – amply illustrating why the case is so necessary.

An openly hostile interviewer for LBC appeared to think he had caught out Magennis in some kind of ethical or professional lapse because he chose to represent Hamas without payment – as he must do under UK law because Hamas is a proscribed organisation.

The implication was that Magennis was so enthusiastically supportive of terrorism that he was willing to take on time-consuming and career-damaging work for free – rather than that he is doing so because there are vitally important legal and ethical principles at stake.

Not least, the proscription of Hamas’ political wing, including its governmental and administrative institutions, treats them as extensions of the armed struggle.

It breathes life into Israel’s patently ridiculous claims that all of Gaza’s 36 hospitals are really “Hamas command and control centres”, that Gaza’s doctors can be killed or arrested and taken to torture camps because they are “Hamas operatives” in disguise, and that Gaza’s paramedics can be executed because their rescue missions supposedly aid Hamas.

And worse, ultimately proscription supports Israeli leaders’ genocidal statements that there are “no civilians in Gaza”, a place where half the population are children.

Bargaining chips

The proscription of Hamas in its entirety ignores the fact that the group has political goals – ones Gaza’s population voted for 19 years ago to liberate themselves from decades of Israel’s brutal and illegal military occupation. Those goals are distinct from Hamas, yet expressing support for the objectives gives rise to the risk of being investigated by the police and prosecuted by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS).

Gaza’s people – the less than half who were old enough to vote two decades ago – were driven down the path of supporting armed resistance in the pursuit of national liberation for an all-too-obvious reason. Because Israel had refused to make any concessions to Hamas’ political rivals, headed by Mahmoud Abbas in the West Bank.

Abbas, head of the Palestinian Authority, has been using strictly diplomatic means – which Israel also opposes – to achieve statehood.

The proscription of Hamas sweeps out of view the fact that a people under occupation have a right enshrined in international law to use armed struggle against their military oppressors. It makes it perilously dangerous to show support for the armed struggle of Gaza’s Palestinians lest you are accused of breaching Section 12 of the Terrorism Act 2000.

Proscription sanctions the failure by western politicians and media to distinguish between Hamas actions on 7 October 2023 that accord with international law, such as its attacks on Israeli military bases, and illegitimate actions targeting Israeli civilians.

It reverses reality, treating all those Israelis held in Gaza as hostages who have been kidnapped, even those who are soldiers, while approving of Israel’s kidnapping of Palestinians in Gaza, from medical staff to children.

The latter are supposedly “arrested”. They are referred to by the western media as “prisoners”, even though most have not been charged or put on trial, and the main purpose of their detention seems to be as bargaining chips in an exchange for Israelis captive in Gaza.

And finally, since 2021, Britain’s proscription of Hamas’ political wing has effectively meant the UK has given its backing both to Israel’s refusal to talk to Gaza’s government, and to Israel’s near two-decade-old siege of Gaza that turned it into little more than a concentration camp holding 2.3 million Palestinians, further radicalising the population.

British politicians should understand quite how self-defeating such an approach is. After all, it was only through talking to Sinn Fein, the political wing of the “terrorist” IRA group, that Britain was able to negotiate a peace deal, the Good Friday Agreement, in Northern Ireland in 1998.

Hamas stated in its revised 2017 charter that it is ready to make territorial concessions with Israel – based on the traditional two-state solution.

And it does so again in its application to the home secretary, calling the two-state solution the “national consensus” among Palestinians.

The submission notes that Israel has repeatedly assassinated Hamas leaders, including Ahmed Jabari and Ismail Haniyeh, when they were close to concluding ceasefire agreements, in what looks suspiciously like attempts by Israel to undermine more moderate voices within the organisation.

Through proscription, Britain has handed Israel a permanent licence to refuse to test Hamas’ willingness to compromise.

Attack on lawyers

Robert Jenrick, Britain’s shadow justice secretary, has called for Riverway Law and its barristers to be investigated and struck off for representing Hamas – apparently forgetting the foundational principle in law that everyone, even serial killers, have a right to legal representation if the law is not to become a hollow charade.

The Terrorism Act includes provision for an appeal by proscribed organisations against their inclusion on the list. How are they to go through the legal procedure to appeal their listing apart from through lawyers?

Disgracefully, Starmer’s officials have once again kept their silence as Hamas’ legal representatives in the UK have been turned into targets for establishment abuse. The government is as complicit in the assault at home on basic democratic rights, such as free speech and the rule of law, as it has been complicit abroad in Israel’s genocide in Gaza.

How would the Starmer government have reacted had the two British barristers who defended Israel against South Africa’s case against genocide at the ICJ last year been publicly maligned for doing so? Would it have been okay to tar those lawyers with the crimes against humanity committed by their client?

Fahad Ansari, director of Riverway Law, has written to the government, urging it to speak up in defence of this team’s right to challenge Hamas’ proscription, and warning that Jenrick’s “comments are not only reckless and libellous but amount to incitement against our staff members”.

He has reminded the justice secretary, Shabana Mahmood, of the previous murder of lawyers for taking on cases that challenged the British establishment, including Pat Finucane, who was killed by Ulster loyalists in collusion with the British security services, after he won several human rights cases against the British government.

Hamas’ submission makes the case that Patel provided several false grounds to justify the proscription of Hamas in its entirety.

Hamas disputes Patel’s characterisation of it as a terrorist organisation. It notes that international law allows people illegally occupied and oppressed to resist through military means.

Hamas’ former political bureau chief Mousa Abu Marzouk notes in his witness statement on behalf of Hamas that Hamas’ operation on 7 October 2023 was intended only to strike military targets, and that atrocities carried out by its fighters that day against civilians had not been authorised by the leadership and are not condoned.

It is impossible to know whether that claim is true.

It is also incredibly hard to draw attention to factors which could be said to support Abu Marzouk’s argument without also being alleged to have invited support for Hamas or as expressing an opinion or belief that is supportive of Hamas – which would risk being accused of a criminal offence under Section 12.

In addition to the false stories spread by Israel, such as that Hamas “beheaded babies” and carried out “mass rape”, it is known that other, presumably less disciplined, groups broke out of Gaza that day as well as Hamas. Apparently no effort has been made to determine which groups carried out which atrocities.

And then there is the fact that an unknown number of the atrocities blamed on Hamas were actually caused by Israel’s green-lighting of its Hannibal directive, which authorised the Israeli military to kill its own soldiers and citizens to prevent them being seized. That included firing missiles into kibbutz homes and on vehicles heading towards Gaza, leaving only charred remains of the occupants.

The proscription of Hamas makes it legally dangerous to draw attention to the sickening acts of the Israeli government.

Also worth noting is that Hamas makes clear in its submission that, unlike Israel, it is ready to have its actions that day investigated by international bodies and any of its fighters who committed atrocities put on trial.

“We remain, as always, prepared to cooperate with any international investigations and inquiries into the operation, even if ‘Israel’ refuses to do so,” Abu Marzouk writes.

He calls on “the ICC Prosecutor and his team to immediately and urgently come to occupied Palestine to look into the crimes and violations committed there, rather than merely observing the situation remotely or being subject to the Israeli restrictions.”

Public demonised

Abu Marzouk points out that Britain is not a dispassionate observer of Israel’s genocide unfolding in Gaza. As the colonial power in Palestine for much of the first half of the last century, it permitted European Jews to colonise the Palestinian people’s homeland, effectively leaving the latter stateless.

“Unsurprisingly,” Abu Marzouk writes, “the British state continues to side with the genocidal Zionist coloniser, while proscribing organisations like ours that strive to assert Palestinian dignity.”

Which alludes to the second main purpose of Hamas’ application.

The British state has a legal obligation to prevent Israel’s current crimes against humanity and genocide in Gaza. And those in a position to shed light on Israel’s atrocities – and thereby add to the pressure on the British government and international bodies to fulfil their legal obligations – have a duty to do so too.

That means lawyers, journalists, human rights groups, academics and researchers should be as free as possible to contribute information and analyses that hold both Israel to account for its continuing crimes and the British state for any collusion in those crimes.

But as noted earlier, what Hamas’ proscription has done is precisely stifle expert discourse about what is happening in Gaza. Those who try to speak up, from independent journalists to lawyers, have found themselves vilified, bullied or threatened with prosecution by the British state.

Increasingly, this crackdown is being extended to the wider public.

Proscription has paved the way for the arrest and jailing of peace activist groups like Palestine Action trying to stop the UK-based arms manufacturer Elbit producing the quadcopters Israel is using to finish off civilians, including children, injured in air strikes on Gaza.

Proscription has paved the way for demonising mass public marches and student campus demonstrations against Israel’s genocide as pro-Hamas and “hate protests”.

Proscription has paved the way for the police to place ever-tighter restrictions on such demonstrations, to arrest the organisers, and to investigate prominent figures like Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell who take part in them.

“Rather than allow freedom of speech, police have embarked on a campaign of political intimidation and persecution of journalists, academics, peace activists and students over their perceived support for Hamas,” the application argues.

But while those opposed to genocide find themselves maligned as supporters of terrorism, those actually committing crimes against humanity – whether Israeli leaders or British nationals taking part as soldiers in the genocide in Gaza – are still being welcomed in Britain with open arms.

UK Foreign Secretary David Lammy met his Israeli counterpart, Gideon Saar, in London last month for a so-called “private meeting”. The British government apparently agreed to Saar’s visit, even though it must have known it would trigger requests from legal groups for his arrest for war crimes.

British officials have also hosted senior Israeli military figures.

Meanwhile, a legal dossier handed to the Metropolitan Police last month against 10 Britons accused of committing war crimes in Gaza, such as killing civilians and aid workers, has made barely any ripples.

Where is the outrage meted out by the media and politicians for Britons who have chosen to travel to Gaza to fight with an army that has killed and maimed many tens of thousands of Palestinian children there?

There is more to say, but saying more risks arrest by the UK’s counter-terrorism police and jail time. Which is why ending Hamas’ proscription needs to happen as soon as possible.

And why the British establishment, from politicians to the media, are so determined to close ranks and foil the application.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Jonathan Cook.

The Ocean Declaration that will be agreed upon at the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) this week will be known as the Apia Ocean Declaration.

In an exclusive interview with the Samoa Observer, Commonwealth Secretary-General Patricia Scotland said members were in a unique position to bring their voices together for the oceans, which have long been neglected.

“The Apia Ocean Declaration aims to address the rising threats to our ocean faces, especially from climate change and rising sea levels,” she said.

• READ MORE: Other CHOGM reports, October 21-26

Commonwealth pushes for ocean protection with historic Apia Ocean Declaration. Video: Samoa Observer

Scotland, reflecting on her tenure as Secretary-General, noted the privilege of serving the Commonwealth, a diverse family of 56 countries comprising 2.7 billion people.

“I am very much the child of the Commonwealth. With 60 percent of our population under 30 years, we must prioritise their future.”

Scotland reflected that upon assuming her role, she recognised immediately that addressing climate change would be a key priority for the Commonwealth.

“Why? Because we have 33 small states, 25 small island states and we were the ones who were really suffering this badly,” she said.

Pacific a ‘big blue ocean state’
“We also knew in 2016 that nobody was looking at the oceans. Now, the Pacific is a big blue ocean state.

“But it’s one of the most under-resourced elements that we have. And yet, look at what was happening. The hurricanes and the cyclones were getting bigger and bigger.

“Why? Because our ocean had absorbed so much of the heat, so much of the carbon, and now it was starting to become saturated. So before, our ocean acted as a coolant. The cyclone would come, the hurricane would come, they’d pass over our cool blue water, and the heat would be drawn out.”

The Apia Ocean Declaration emerged from a pressing need to protect the oceans, especially given the devastating impact of climate change on coastal and island nations.

“We realised that while many discussions were happening globally, the oceans were often overlooked,” Scotland remarked.

“In 2016, we recognised the necessity for collective action. Our oceans absorb much of the carbon and heat, leading to increasingly severe hurricanes and cyclones.”

Scotland has spearheaded initiatives that brought together oceanographers, climatologists, and various stakeholders.

Worked in silos ‘for too long’
“We worked in silos for too long. It was time to unite our efforts for the ocean’s health.

“That’s when we realised that nobody had their eye on our oceans, but of the 56 Commonwealth members, many of us are island states, so our whole life is dependent on our ocean. And so that’s when the fight back happened.”

This collaboration resulted in the establishment of the Commonwealth Blue Charter, a significant framework focused on ocean conservation.

“Fiji’s presidency at the UN Oceans Conference was a turning point. Critics said it would take years to establish an ocean instrument, but we achieved it in less than ten months.”

“We are not just talking; we are implementing solutions.”

Scotland also addressed the financial challenges faced by many small island states, particularly regarding climate funding.

“In 2009, $100 billion was promised by those who had been primarily responsible for the climate crisis, to help those of us who contributed almost nothing to get over the hump.

Hard for finance applications
“But the money wasn’t coming. And in those days, many of our members found it so hard to put those applications together.”

To combat this issue, the Commonwealth established a Climate Finance Access Hub, facilitating over $365 million in funding for member states with another $500 million in the pipeline.

“But this has caused us to say we have to go further,” she added.

“We’re using geospatial data, we have to fill in the gaps for our members who don’t have the data, so we can look at what has happened in the past, what may happen in the future, and now we have AI to help us do the simulators.

“The Ocean Ministers’ Conference highlighted the importance of ensuring that countries at risk of disappearing under the waves can maintain their maritime jurisdiction,” Scotland asserted.

“The thing that we thought was so important is that those countries threatened with the rising of the sea, which could take away their whole island, don’t have certainty in terms of that jurisdiction. What will happen if our islands drop below the sea level?

“And we wanted our member states to be confident that if they had settled their marine boundaries, that jurisdiction would be set in perpetuity. Because that was the biggest guarantee; I may lose my land, but please don’t tell me I’m going to lose my ocean too.

Target an ocean declaration
“So that was the target for the Ocean Ministers’ Conference. And out of that came the idea that we would have an ocean declaration.

“It is that ocean declaration that we are bringing here to Samoa. And the whole poignancy of that is Samoa is the first small island state in the Pacific ever to host CHOGM. So wouldn’t it be beautiful if out of this big blue ocean state, this wonderful Pacific state, we could get an ocean declaration which could in the future be able to be known as the Apia Ocean Declaration? Because we would really mark what we’re doing here.

“What the Commonwealth has been determined to do throughout this whole period is not just talk, but take positive action to help our members not only just to survive, but to thrive.

“And if, which I hope we will, we get an agreement from our 56 states on this ocean declaration, it enables us to put the evidence before everyone, not only to secure what we need, but then to say 0.05 percent of the money is not enough to save our oceans.

“Oceans are the most underfunded area.

“I hope that all the work we’ve done on the Universal Vulnerability Index, on the nature of the vulnerability for our members, will be able to justify proper money, proper resources being put in.

“And you know what’s happening in this area; our fishermen are under threat.

“Our ability to use the oceans in the way we’ve used for millennia to feed our people, support our people, is really under threat. So this CHOGM is our fight back.”

As the meeting progresses, the emphasis remains on achieving consensus among the 56 member states regarding the Apia Ocean Declaration.

Republished from the Samoa Observer with permission.

This content originally appeared on Asia Pacific Report and was authored by APR editor.

A Russian metals tycoon's assets in a company that produces a key component in making steel have reportedly been nationalized days after President Vladimir Putin criticized his management of his company.

Yury Antipov, 69, the owner of Russia’s largest ferroalloy company, was also questioned by investigators in Chelyabinsk, the Urals industrial city where his company is based, and released on February 26, according to local media.

Earlier in the day, the government seized his shares in Kompaniya Etalon, a holding company for three metals plants that reportedly produce as much as 90 percent of Russia’s ferroalloy, a resource critical for steelmaking.

Russia’s Prosecutor-General Office filed a lawsuit on February 5 to seize Etalon, claiming the underlying Soviet-era metals assets were illegally privatized in the 1990s. It also said the strategic company was partially owned by entities in “unfriendly” countries.

While campaigning for a presidential vote next month, Putin criticized Antipov on February 16 without naming him during a visit to Chelyabinsk, whose working-class residents are typical of the president’s electoral base.

Putin told the regional governor that the Chelyabinsk Electrometallurgical Plant, the largest of Etalon’s five metals factories, had failed to reduce dangerous emissions as agreed in 2019 and the asset would be taken over even though the court had yet to hear the case on privatization.

“I think that all the property should be transferred to state ownership and part of the plant -- [where there is ecologically] harmful production -- should be moved outside the city limits,” Putin told Governor Aleksei Teksler.

In a closed hearing, a Chelyabinsk court approved the transfer of Etalon’s assets to the state, a move potentially worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

Antipov ranked 170 on Forbes 2021 list of richest Russians with a net worth of $700 million.

The nationalization of a domestic company owned by a Russian citizen is the latest in a series of about two dozen by the state since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022.

Prosecutors have based their cases on illegal privatization, foreign ownership, criminal activity, or a combination of the three. A rare-metals producer whose owner had been critical of the war effort was among the other assets seized. l

The seizures contradict Putin’s repeated promises in the nearly quarter century he has been in power that he would not review the controversial 1990s privatizations. In return, businessmen were expected to be loyal to the Kremlin and stay out of politics, experts say.

That unofficial social contract had more or less functioned up until the war. Now businessmen are also expected to contribute to the war effort and support the national economy amid sweeping Western sanctions, experts say.

The current trend of state seizures has spooked Russian entrepreneurs and raised questions about whether that social contract is still valid.

U.S. Ties

Antipov began his business career in the 1990s selling nails, fertilizer, dried meats, and other goods. In 1996 he and his business partner plowed their profits into the purchase of the Chelyabinsk Electrometallurgical Plant and subsequently purchased four more metals plants in the ensuing years.

The plants sold some of their output in the United States, where the firm had a trading company.

Antipov received full control of the metals holding in 2020 when he split with his business partner. That year he put 25 percent of the company each in the names of his wife and two eldest sons, Sergei and Aleksei Antipov, according to Russian business registration records.

In 2022, the metal assets were transferred to the Etalon holding company, whose ownership was hidden. Ferroalloy prices surged in 2022 as the war triggered a spike in commodity prices.

A hit piece published by The Moscow Post in December -- six weeks before prosecutors launched the privatization case -- claimed Antipov paid himself a dividend of more than $300 million from 2021-2023 using a structure that avoids capital gains taxes. RFE/RL could not confirm that claim. The Moscow Post is a Russian-language online tabloid that regularly publishes compromising and scandalous stories.

According to public records, Antipov’s two sons own homes in the United States and may be U.S. citizens. Sergei Antipov founded the trading company around the year 2000 in the U.S. state of Indiana. If he and his brother together still own 50 percent of the company, prosecutors could potentially have grounds for seizure.

Russia has changed some laws regulating the purchase of large stakes in strategic assets since its invasion of Ukraine.

One is a 2008 law that requires foreign entities to receive state permission to buy large stakes in strategic assets. An exception had been made for foreign entities controlled by Russian citizens.

Under the change, a Russian citizen with dual citizenship or a residence permit in another country may be considered a “foreign” owner and must receive permission to own an asset.

Nationalization is among the punishments for failure to do so. Thus, if Antipov’s two sons are U.S. citizens or if they have U.S. residency permits, their combined 50 percent stake in the company could be seized.

This already happened to a Russian businessman from St. Petersburg. His business was determined to be strategic and seized after he received foreign residency.

This content originally appeared on News - Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty and was authored by News - Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty.

As part of its aspiration to be “Tiriti-led”, the University of Otago has embarked on a consultation process to re-brand. The proposed change involves a new logo and a new, deeply symbolic Māori name: Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka.

Universities occasionally change logos, names and marketing strategies. All New Zealand institutions have added te reo Māori to their original titles, often opting for a literal translation — “Te Whare Wānanga” — to describe their status as a university. But Otago is taking it a step further.

Metaphorically, “whakaihu” refers to the university’s place as the country’s oldest university, as well as its Māori students often being the first to graduate from their whanau and communities. And it symbolically includes everyone on the “waka”.

• READ MORE: Explainer: the significance of the Treaty of Waitangi
• Colonial ideas have kept NZ and Australia in a rut of policy failure. We need policy by Indigenous people, for the people
• Putting te Tiriti at the centre of Aotearoa New Zealand’s public policy can strengthen democracy – here’s how

That is exactly what a university is supposed to be, of course — a place for everyone. A place where people are free to think and develop ideas, even contested or unpopular ones.

As the Education and Training Act 2020 says, universities must operate as the “critic and conscience of society”.

But being “Tiriti-led” is not as straightforward. It throws into sharp relief where universities sit in relation to the Crown under te Tiriti o Waitangi/Treaty of Waitangi. This, in turn, raises quite fundamental questions about what a university is in the first place.

The University has collaborated with mana whenua to create a proposed new visual identity including a new Māori name and tohu (symbol), to sit along the official University of Otago name, which we believe represent where we have come from and where we’re going. pic.twitter.com/mZ86NPOzE2

— University of Otago (@otago) March 15, 2023

What is te Tiriti, what is a university?
Essentially, te Tiriti o Waitangi was the Māori language agreement in 1840 between Māori hapu and the British Crown which set out the terms of British settlement. Britain could establish government over its own people, hapu would retain authority over their own affairs.

Māori would enjoy the “rights and privileges” of British subjects, a legal status which continues to evolve as New Zealand citizenship. The Treaty of Waitangi is an English language version of the agreement with different and less favourable emphases for Māori.

By wanting to become “Tiriti-led”, Otago has decided it is part of the Crown party to this agreement. This makes Kai Tahu, as mana whenua (people of the land), the university’s “principal Tiriti partner”.

By contrast, when Massey University says it’s Tiriti-led, it doesn’t explicitly say it’s part of the Crown. Auckland University of Technology’s vice-chancellor has said his university is Tiriti-led, but there’s no definition to be easily found on the public record.

Styling a relationship in this way is significant — but not necessarily in ways that keep faith with te Tiriti o Waitangi, or with the essential purposes of a university.

Universities are owned and principally funded by the Crown. But their obligation to independent scholarship means they cannot be part of the Crown in the same way as a government department.

Universities don not take direction from ministers in the same way, and their staff are not public servants. They are not part of the executive branch of government.

Together with their students and graduates, academics are the university — a community of scholars obliged to contribute to the discovery and sharing of knowledge, but not obliged to serve the government of the day.

Us and them
Parliament and the executive (government ministers) together decide what te Tiriti means to the Crown side of the relationship. Public servants offer advice, but ultimately take ministers’ instructions on giving effect to whatever is the Crown’s Tiriti policy.

Academics, however, can take a different view. They are not bound by what the Crown side of the agreement thinks. And, as developments in te Tiriti policy show, academic independence makes a difference.

In 1877, New Zealand’s Supreme Court found the Treaty was legally a “simple nullity” because it had not been incorporated into domestic law. It wasn’t the public servant’s role to object, at least not in public. That kind of intellectual freedom belongs elsewhere. Explicitly, it’s one of the reasons universities exist.

Academics — Māori and others — have contributed significantly to developments in te Tiriti policy since 1877, especially in more recent years. Their contributions have often contested prevailing political thought. Universities have given Māori academics — and through them, Māori communities — the kind of voice unavailable to public servants working for the Crown partner.

Partnership is one of the “Treaty principles”, developed legally and politically as an interpretive guide to the agreement. But partnership creates a “them” and “us” binary.

In my book, Sharing the Sovereign: recognition, treaties and the state, I show how this binary encourages people to think of the Crown as exclusively Pākehā. Any institution that is not solely Māori is an institution that belongs to “them”.

This reinforces Māori separation from the university as an institution that should belong to all of us — and to each of us in our own ways.

Academics are not public servants
If an institution represents one side of a partnership, that institution cannot be a “place for everyone”. A Māori student or staff member should be able to say, “I belong here as much as anybody else, with the same rights, opportunities and obligations to contribute to the institution’s culture, values and purpose.”

That includes the right to study and teach te Tiriti with an independence that is not available to public servants.

In 2020, I helped develop “Critical Tiriti Analysis”, a policy evaluation method that could be used to assess public policy consistency with te Tiriti. While anecdotally it seems now to be widely used across the public service, it’s not something likely to have been written by a public servant.

The Crown is a cautious Tiriti partner.

Thoroughness and objectivity — but not political caution — guide academic contributions to policy debate. Such contributions are different in style and purpose from the kind of policy making that it is the duty of the public service to undertake.

Universities are not the Crown in the same sense, and this is why they are not Tiriti partners.

Dr Dominic O’Sullivan, Adjunct Professor, Faculty of Health and Environmental Sciences, Auckland University of Technology, and Professor of Political Science, Charles Sturt University. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

This content originally appeared on Asia Pacific Report and was authored by APR editor.

It has been a difficult time for senior public servants recently — at least it has been for those willing to express their political views publicly.

One has been sacked, another offered his resignation, and yet another has been questioned by a parliamentary select committee.

In an election year perhaps we can expect heightened sensitivities around the principle of public sector neutrality. Especially so, given those in the spotlight are all ministerial appointees to crown entity boards, not career officials.

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These appointments blur the supposedly clear boundary between elected office-holders and professional public servants.

The case of Rob Campbell, former chair of Te Whatu Ora/Health NZ and the Environmental Protection Authority, seems the most clear-cut. His LinkedIn post likening the National Party’s Three Waters policy to a “thin disguise for the dog whistle on co-governance” was one thing.

But his refusal to accept he had done anything wrong was a bridge too far for the powers that be.

Things have gone better for former Labour MP Steve Maharey, who offered his resignation as chair of Pharmac, ACC and Education New Zealand for publishing what could be read as politically partial views. The government has said he will not lose his jobs.

And another former Labour MP, Ruth Dyson, now deputy chair of the Earthquake Commission and Fire and Emergency New Zealand, is also under scrutiny for apparently partisan Twitter comments. It is safe to say the the nation’s newsrooms are now trawling the social media accounts of all senior civil servants and appointees.

Public Service Commissioner provides advice on Pharmac chair after political comments https://t.co/5nG96MadTe

— Newshub Politics (@NewshubPolitics) March 7, 2023

Faceless bureaucrats?
On the face of it, the standards of conduct for people employed in the state sector — especially at senior levels — are clear. They are expected to act with neutrality and impartiality, and not to take sides with political parties — even (or especially) if they have a past association with one.

They should be able to continue to serve after a change of government. New Zealand doesn’t follow the American model where an incoming president appoints about 4000 civil servants. Instead, we rely on non-partisan professionals whose tenure isn’t tied to elections.

But these tensions and sensitivities about what people can and can’t say also exist in private enterprise. Any director or chief executive would be unwise to publish private opinions about political or economic affairs that might harm the reputation of the company.

Even a bottom-rung employee can face the sack for commenting online about their employer. Free speech comes with conditions attached, especially so for the public service.

One counter argument is that public servants’ impartiality is only a pretence anyway. And, as one commentator put it recently, “we should expect them to speak the truth to us, as they see it”. Indeed, we should criticise those who fail to do so, and not care if it upsets politicians.

That would be a major culture change for our Westminster-style system. But New Zealand has had prominent public servants who were admired as outspoken public intellectuals. The question is, where is the line and how do we define the terms?

Simon Wilson: Why they sacked Rob Campbell and why that has to stop #HeraldPremium https://t.co/p0SBB2U1l8 pic.twitter.com/wrX7aAMFXR

— nzherald (@nzherald) March 6, 2023

Public intellectuals
One historical figure who rose high within the public service but expressed political views was Edward Tregear (1846–1931). He was already a prominent intellectual when appointed the first Secretary of the Labour Department by the Liberal government in 1891.

He drove pioneering labour and social reforms, but was often outspoken and found himself at odds with the government following the death of the prime minister, Richard Seddon, in 1906. He retired in 1910.

Clarence Beeby (1902–98) was a prominent psychologist and researcher with a strong commitment to public education and human rights when he was appointed Director of Education by Peter Fraser in 1940.

Labour’s educational reforms came to be identified with Beeby as much as with Fraser, which would have annoyed the prime minister. Beeby continued under the subsequent National government, however. Overall, his scholarship had wide influence and was recognised internationally.

The economist Bill Sutch (1907–75) worked under ministers of finance in the 1930s while also actively engaging in public life. He published two important books on New Zealand in the early 1940s (Poverty and Progress, and The Search for Security).

This independence caused some friction with Fraser, but Sutch worked for New Zealand at the United Nations. In 1958, he became permanent Secretary for the Department of Industries and Commerce.

The new rules
Campbell’s online comments and Maharey’s op-ed columns probably are not at the same level of sustained achievement as those three exemplary civil servants’ publications. But they do raise important questions.

Are today’s ministers and the Public Services Commissioner too precious about political opinions? And are opposition MPs going to be hoist with their own petard once they’re in office?

Since the State Sector Act 1988, our system has tried to draw a clear line between ministers, who set high-level policy and have to justify it publicly, and public servants, who advise ministers and implement their decisions.

Public servants should provide ministers with free and frank advice, but publishing personal opinions is not on.

There is always a grey area, however. Campbell breached the code of conduct, but was sacking him in proportion with the offence? Those in a position to decide thought that it was.

Given the public controversy, Maharey did the right thing to pre-emptively offer his resignation. What distinguishes him from Campbell is that he recognised the awkward political problem.

But is it so big a problem that heads should roll? Is the country better or worse off for its intolerance of intellectual and political independence of thought in the state sector?

Whatever the answer, under present arrangements we we will not see public servants like Tregear, Beeby or Sutch again. But Campbell and Maharey can write what they like in retirement.

Dr Grant Duncan, associate professor, School of People, Environment and Planning, Massey University. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

This content originally appeared on Asia Pacific Report and was authored by APR editor.

This content originally appeared on The Intercept and was authored by Ken Klippenstein.

“The Biden administration’s submission that Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman qualifies for immunity from prosecution is a shameful climbdown from any semblance of justice for journalist Jamal Khashoggi,” said CPJ Middle East and North Africa Program Coordinator Sherif Mansour. “The U.S. government should not throw a wrench in the workings of justice by trying to prevent this case moving forward.” 

Khashoggi’s fiancée, Hatice Cengiz, and Democracy for the Arab World Now – the advocacy group Khashoggi founded – are plaintiffs in a lawsuit filed in U.S. district court against bin Salman and his alleged accomplices for the journalist’s killing at the Saudi consulate in Istanbul. U.S. intelligence have said the murder was likely approved by the crown prince. The Biden administration said in its filing that because the crown prince was made prime minister in September, he is now “the sitting head of government and, accordingly, immune,” The Guardian reported. The filing may lead judge John Bates to dismiss the case, the newspaper said. 

In October, CPJ joined the Knight Institute to file a FOIA request asking for the U.S. government to fully declassify an intelligence report on Khashoggi’s murder. The U.S. government released some of its findings in February 2021.

This content originally appeared on Committee to Protect Journalists and was authored by Committee to Protect Journalists.

At this year’s local government elections, average voter turnout was 36 percent. This is comparable to the 2019 figure. It compares with voter turnout of 81.5 percent at the last general election.

Local Government New Zealand says that a review into why people don’t vote should be carried out before the next elections in 2025.

We need to know how many people didn’t vote because they didn’t receive their ballot papers and what practical obstacles to voting might have occurred.

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We also need to know how many people just couldn’t be bothered, and if some people made a conscious choice not to vote. A conscious choice is a legitimate democratic decision.

Wayne Brown’s campaign for the Auckland mayoralty may have succeeded partly because it targeted people who traditionally vote — property owners and people over 50. People who are less likely to be Māori.

However, positioning Māori as Treaty partners to the Crown may also be a factor, because it overshadows The Māori citizenship as a share in the Crown’s authority to govern.

Participating in the affairs of government is a greater political authority than partnership. The state is a large and powerful institution and always the senior partner in the relationships it forms. Its partners may have a voice, but they don’t have the right to help make decisions. Decision-making is the task of the participant.

Democracy requires complementary participation
While there are examples of council/Māori partnerships that work well, democracy requires that they complement participation, rather than take its place.

Te Tiriti wasn’t a partnership between races. It was an agreement over the distribution of political authority. Rangatiratanga, as an independent Māori authority over Māori affairs, on the one hand, and the right of the British Crown to establish government on the other.

Te Tiriti didn’t intend that the rights of government should override the rights of rangatiratanga. Indeed, it provided a check against this outcome by granting Māori the rights and privileges of British subjects.

In 1840 those rights and privileges were not extensive. But, in 2022 they have developed into the rights, privileges and political capacities of New Zealand citizenship.

Most importantly, citizenship means that everybody has the right and obligation to participate in public decision-making. They should expect that their contributions have the same likelihood of influence as anybody else’s.

Nobody should have reason to feel so alienated from the system that they can’t see the point of voting. Māori wards are supposed to guard against this possibility by supporting active participation and influence.

Influence means being able to participate with reference to culture and colonial context.

Yet, in 2019, the Iwi Chairs’ Forum commissioned a report on constitutional transformation, Matike Mai Aotearoa.

Ethnically exclusive Pakeha body
It comments on what rangatiratanga looks like, but it sees citizenship as the domain of its partner, the Crown. It sees the Crown as an ethnically exclusive Pakeha body governing only for “its people”.

In other words, government is for other people. It’s not for us because rangatiratanga is where our exclusive political authority lies. Our relationship with government is as Treaty partner.

Another view is that rangatiratanga and citizenship are different but complementary. While voting doesn’t matter if one is a partner, it’s essential if one is a participant. Participation means, as Justice Joe Williams, argued, that, there is a need for a mindset shift away from the pervasive assumption that the Crown is Pākehā [non-Māori], English-speaking, and distinct from Māori rather than representative of them.

“Increasingly, in the 21st century, the Crown is also Māori. If the nation is to move forward, this reality must be grasped.”

In 2022, I was commissioned by the Ministerial Review into the Future for Local Government to write a discussion paper on Māori and local government.

The review is required to consider Treaty partnership. But it has also decided to be “bold” in its thinking.

Boldness could mean strengthening Te Tiriti and democracy by thinking beyond partnership as a treaty principle, established by the Court of Appeal in 1987, to thinking about the real substance of rangatiratanga and citizenship.

Local government functions by iwi
Rangatiratanga could mean that not all local government functions need to be carried out by councils. There may be some that are more logically and justly carried out by iwi, hapu, marae, or other Māori political communities.

The ideal that decisions are best made at the point closest to where their effects are experienced is a well-established democratic principle.

Citizenship is different from rangatiratanga but especially important because if Māori are, like everybody else, shareholders in the Crown’s authority to govern, then they are entitled to make culturally distinctive contributions to council decisions.

They are also entitled to expect that councils’ powers and decision-making processes will work for them as well as they work for anybody else.

Increasing voter turnout depends on people believing that councils make a positive contribution to their lives.

Professor Dominic O’Sullivan (Te Rarawa, Ngāti Kahu) is adjunct professor at Auckland University of Technology’s (AUT) Taupua Waiora Centre for Māori Health Research, and professor of political science at Charles Sturt University in Australia. He is also a contributor to Asia Pacific Report. This article was first published by Stuff and is republished with the author’s permission.

This content originally appeared on Asia Pacific Report and was authored by APR editor.

The death of Queen Elizabeth II brings to an end a long, complex and remarkable chapter in the history of Aotearoa New Zealand’s evolution from colony to independent, bicultural and multicultural nation.

Throughout that period, however, New Zealanders have generally admired and even loved the monarch herself, even if the institution she represented lay at the centre of a vexed, often traumatic, reckoning with the colonial past.

If there was a highpoint in New Zealand royalism, it was witnessed during the first visit by the young Queen and Duke of Edinburgh between December 23 1953 and January 30 1954. 

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An estimated three in every four people turned out to see the royal couple in what historian Jock Phillips has called “the most elaborate and most whole-hearted public occasion in New Zealand history”.

After decades of economic depression and war, Elizabeth’s June 1953 coronation heralded an optimistic postwar atmosphere. Following the conquest of Mount Everest by Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay — claimed as a jewel in the new Queen’s crown — the royal tour was the perfect moment for New Zealand to celebrate.

The Queen’s presence also fulfilled the long anticipated wish that a reigning British monarch would visit. War, then bad health, had previously dashed hopes for a tour by George VI.

Elizabeth II made a huge impression. She appeared as a youthful, radiant, even magical queen, one dedicated to serving her people.

She charmed an older generation and embedded herself in the memories of the children who lined up to see her. They would all grow up to be, one way or another, “royal watchers”, aware of her reign and its milestones, keeping up with the lives of her children, their spouses and her grandchildren.

And then, less than 40 hours after her arrival, the young Queen’s leadership was put to the test when 151 people died in the Tangiwai rail disaster on Christmas Eve. She visited survivors and included words of comfort in her speeches, cementing her connection to the grieving, and to the country.

The female crown
Remarkably, it was not until 2011 that females became equal to males in the rules of British royal succession. Queens only came to power in the absence of a male heir. And yet, this historical sexism also endowed queens with an exceptional quality — strong mother figures presiding over their subjects.

Indeed, in the past two centuries of the British monarchy, it is Queen Victoria (who reigned for almost 64 years) and Queen Elizabeth II (reigning for 70 years) who stand out as not just the longest-serving, but also most significant monarchs.

Both played a crucial part in New Zealand’s history.

In my work as a historian I have argued that the politically conservative “female imperialism”, emblemised in the reigns of Victoria and Elizabeth, encouraged women to support the British Empire and Commonwealth. In turn, it helped raise women’s status in society.

For example, both queens inspired women to “take up their mantle” and work for empire and nation: often in maternal roles with children as teachers and nurses.

The female crown encouraged citizenship based on British values, offering school prizes and support for migrants.

The young Elizabeth’s volunteer work during the Second World War set an example for youth, as did her longtime role as patron of the Girl Guides. The gender-power of the Queen was already on display during the 1952-53 tour when she visited servicewomen, nurses and mothers with new babies, and was given presents for her own children.

Celebrity status
Over the past 70 years, the Queen also became something of a modern celebrity, a fixture in women’s magazines, on radio, television and now social media. As well as turning out to see her in person during her 10 visits, New Zealanders “took her into their homes” with press clippings, souvenir pictures and keepsakes.

During that first tour, the New Zealand Woman’s Weekly pronounced upon the Queen’s role in the enduring relationship with Britain:

An even stronger link will be consolidated and spiritual stimulus given to life by the influence of one who is an inspiration to all.

She was described as “enchanting”, with her “exquisite complexion, her eyes like sapphires […] and her beautiful mobile mouth as she talked and smiled”. In 1963, she was “lovely” with “the breathtaking brilliance of [her] peacock silk outfit against the broad canvas of sea and sky”.

In 1970, she was “a fairytale Queen — a glittering image such as children visualise when they think of the word Queen”. In 1977, “The Queen is perfection”.

On a 1986 visit she was reportedly closer and more familiar than ever, but at nearly 60 her “movements are inclined to be slower, her smile reflects more understanding than youthful sparkle […] and there were times when she looked as if she would rather kick off her shoes and have a cup of tea”.

By the 1980s, the glamour baton had passed to the next generation, notably the hugely popular Diana, Princess of Wales. Proving that royalty was not immune from modern life, three of the Queen’s four children divorced, most publicly and scandalously.

Ironically (perhaps absurdly), there were accusations the Queen was out of touch with the times.

Relationship with a colony
As power devolved around the Commonwealth during the Queen’s reign, the relationship with New Zealand inevitably changed too. Notions of a settler colony of Anglo-Celtic descendants emulating a “superior” British imperial economy, politics and culture — with a distant monarch as head of state — became outmoded.

Most importantly, the colonisation and assimilation of Indigenous peoples were challenged.

As historian Michael Dawson has shown, Māori involvement was minimal at the 1950 Commonwealth Games in Auckland. There was no Māori welcome or presence in the opening or closing ceremonies, with only a musical performance as athletes and officials arrived in the country.

It was left to King Korokī and Te Puea Herangi to hold their own welcome for athletes at Ngāruawāhia. The Prime Minister of the day, Sidney Holland, attended and considered the event an excellent example of good race relations.

But rather than Māori being partners in the planning of the first royal tour, they were largely expected to fit in, mostly providing entertainment.

In the original tour plans, Arawa were expected to represent all Māori during a lunch stop. Only when they asked for more time were plans changed. Meanwhile, the Kīngitanga had to lobby hard for the Queen to visit Ngāruawāhia. This eventually happened, with the Queen and Duke spontaneously deciding to spend more time there than had been allocated.

Importantly, through the Queen’s reign, the Crown’s role in redressing the past became an essential part of New Zealand’s post-colonial development. After much agitation, the Waitangi Tribunal was set up in 1975 to investigate Crown breaches of the Treaty of Waitangi.

In 1987, Māori became an official language. Rather than assimilating into a devolved settler state, decolonisation came to mean mana motuhake for Māori.

By the 1974 Commonwealth Games — the “friendly games” — in Christchurch, Māori “were centrally incorporated” into the festivities, including a leading role in the opening ceremony.

By the 1990 games in Auckland, also the 150th anniversary of signing of the Treaty, emerging biculturalism was evident in the medals incorporating Māori design.

Abandoning Britain?
In late 20th century New Zealand there were simmering republican sentiments. At the same time, because of the regenerating Iwi-Crown relationship under the Treaty, there was a reluctance to move away from Britain constitutionally.

Ironically, it was Britain going its own way – most notably by joining the EEC in 1973 — that moved the issue along. Symbolically, the number and length of temporary working visas for New Zealanders were cut back, despite an “OE” in the “mother country” being still viewed as a rite of passage.

There were other reasons republicanism was not a priority for the state. The shift towards a laissez-faire, free-market economic ideology shifted the ground; the move to a new electoral system in the 1990s underscored New Zealand’s growing independence.

But through those decades of change, the popularity of the Queen provided a constant. If there was a moment when the republican break might have happened, it was missed. New Zealand has been more reticent than Australia, where a referendum on becoming a republic was only narrowly defeated in 1999.

New Zealand has also retired and then later reinstated the royal honours system. Attempts to change the flag and remove the Union Jack from its corner came to nothing in a 2016 referendum.

And New Zealand still doesn’t have its own constitution outlining its fundamental laws of government. Rather, we rely on a conglomerate constitution, messily located in 45 Acts of Parliament. And of course, the Head of State remains a hereditary monarch who lives half a world away.

Aotearoa after Elizabeth
The Queen’s death presents another opportunity for New Zealand to reassess its nationhood — and perhaps be creative.

King Charles and the Queen Consort Camilla simply don’t have the appeal of Elizabeth II. But postcolonial Britain and the modern, diverse Commonwealth still have much to offer an increasingly multicultural New Zealand.

Most importantly, it is time for a broad conversation about how the various dymamics of contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand — liberal and egalitarian traditions, Pākeha settler notions of governance, Te Ao Māori, and the special Iwi-Crown connection — might work together in the future.

After all, Māori signed the Treaty with Queen Victoria at least in part as protection from the behaviour of unruly settlers. Does 21st-century New Zealand still need a monarch to protect against settler colonialism?

Whatever the answer, any move away from the Crown needs to honour the history of which Elizabeth II has been such a significant part.

Dr Katie Pickles is professor of history, University of Canterbury. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

This content originally appeared on Asia Pacific Report and was authored by APR editor.

U.S. President Joe Biden faced a firestorm of criticism Tuesday after the White House confirmed he will visit Saudi Arabia next month and is expected to meet with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.

Concerns have mounted in recent weeks in response to reporting during the planning stage of Biden's mid-July trip, given the kingdom's human rights record and the 2018 assassination of journalist Jamal Khashoggi—which U.S. intelligence officials concluded was approved by the crown prince, or MBS.

National Iranian American Council research director Assal Rad highlighted Biden's own comments after the White House announced that from July 13 to July 16, the president will visit Israel, the West Bank, and Saudi Arabia:

"The Saudi regime had a Washington Post journalist murdered and dismembered in an embassy," said Jameel Jaffer, director of the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, referring to Khashoggi.

"Just a few weeks ago, Israeli forces killed an American journalist in what CNN said was a targeted killing," Jaffer added of Shireen Abu Akleh. "The Biden [administration] should be sanctioning these countries, not rewarding them."

"What message is the Biden [administration] sending about press freedom if even the deliberate killing of American journalists is so quickly forgotten and forgiven?" he asked.

Matt Duss, a foreign policy adviser to U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), declared that "the U.S.-Saudi rapprochement is premised on the idea that the security and prosperity of the American people requires consigning the people of the Middle East to a future of repression. I absolutely reject that."

Duss said earlier this month that "if anyone can explain to me how this reflects the administration's previously stated commitment to 'a world in which human rights are protected, their defenders are celebrated, and those who commit human rights abuses are held accountable,' I'd love to hear it."

CodePink similarly said Tuesday that "Saudi Arabia is one of the worst countries for journalists, women, LGBTQ+ people, and migrant workers. But sure, the Biden administration is totally concerned with human rights."

"Tomorrow in D.C., we'll be honoring Jamal Khashoggi, just one of the many victims of... Saudi Arabia's government," the anti-war group added. "We hope Biden will honor him as well by canceling this trip."

As Common Dreams reported last week, 13 human rights groups wrote to Biden that he should not meet MBS without securing "tangible progress to alleviate some of the most egregious rights violations" committed by the kingdom.

During a call with reporters late Monday, a senior Biden official claimed that "human rights is always a part of the conversation in our foreign engagements" and highlighted the administration's February 2021 release of a declassified intelligence report about Khashoggi's murder.

"I think it's very important also, though, of course, to emphasize, as we did then, that while we recalibrate relations, we're not seeking to rupture relations, because Saudi Arabia has been a strategic partner of the United States for eight decades," the official added, specifically noting Biden's stated aim to end the Saudi-led war on Yemen.

During his trip to Jeddah, Biden is scheduled to attend a summit of the Gulf Cooperation Council—made up of Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates—plus Egypt, Iraq, and Jordan.

"The president will also hold bilateral meetings with the Saudi hosts and other counterparts" to discuss regional and global issues, including the ongoing U.N.-mediated truce in Yemen, the Biden official told reporters, confirming he is expected to meet with MBS, who "played a critical role in securing the extension of the truce—that was in place since April—just last week."

Though Biden last year announced an end to U.S. support for the Saudi-led coalition's "offensive operations" in Yemen, he has been blasted for continuing to allow arms sales and maintenance.

A report on the coalition's assault of Yemen revealed last week that "a substantial portion of the air raids were carried out by jets developed, maintained, and sold by U.S. companies, and by pilots who were trained by the U.S. military," bolstering support for a War Powers Resolution in Congress to end "unauthorized" United States involvement in the war.

This content originally appeared on Common Dreams - Breaking News & Views for the Progressive Community and was authored by Jessica Corbett.

“Burns has been doing a lot of the diplomatic heavy lifting, which is terrible.”

This content originally appeared on The Intercept and was authored by Ken Klippenstein.