by Philip Conroy

1075 days. That is how long Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke has now been sitting in Parliament. And in 1,075 days she has managed to submit exactly ZERO written questions to a minister. Not one.

Think about that for a second. We pay MPs to represent us, scrutinise the Government, ask questions, investigate problems, sit on committees, introduce legislation and actually do the bloody job of being a Member of Parliament. Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke has now had nearly three years to do it.

So how much has this cost us? Her salary and basic MP allowance worked out at roughly $38,000 for the part of 2023 she was in Parliament, $192,000 in 2024, $196,600 in 2025 and $200,500 in 2026. That’s about $627,000 in salary and basic allowance alone.

Then add the taxpayer-funded travel and accommodation. $5,369 in 2023, $104,550 in 2024, $127,121 in 2025 and another $15,977 in just the first three months of 2026. That’s another $253,017.

So we’re already looking at roughly $880,000 in identifiable taxpayer-funded salary, allowances, travel and accommodation, and that’s before you even count her staff, offices, IT, administration and the wider cost of supporting an MP.

Nearly $900,000. In one term.

And her individual expense claims aren’t exactly sitting at the bottom of the pile either. In the July to September 2025 disclosure, Hana-Rāwhiti personally claimed $52,997, making her the highest-spending Te Pāti Māori MP that quarter and putting her among the higher individual spenders across Parliament.

Now, maybe she’s been incredibly productive behind the scenes. Fair enough. Let’s look at the record. Zero written questions. One members’ bill sitting in the ballot. And no current select committee membership.

Then we have the claims about all the work supposedly being done visiting young people in prisons, youth justice facilities and Oranga Tamariki. We’re told that 65% of her work involved visiting rangatahi in those sorts of facilities. Yet when that claim was examined, Corrections records reportedly showed just ONE prison visit since she became an MP, while the Children’s Minister’s office said she had never visited an Oranga Tamariki youth justice facility and had never requested a visit.

So which is it? Because if 65% of your work is supposedly happening in these places, taxpayers are entitled to know where the hell that work actually happened.

And yes, we got the haka. The haka that became an international spectacle in Parliament. The haka that followed the Treaty Principles Bill being introduced. The haka that resulted in a seven-day suspension from Parliament. That was certainly memorable. But being memorable isn’t the same thing as being productive. A viral clip isn’t parliamentary scrutiny. A haka isn’t a written question. A protest isn’t legislation. And being famous isn’t the same thing as being a good MP.

This isn’t about whether you like Te Pāti Māori. It isn’t about whether you’re Māori or Pākehā. It isn’t about whether you support or oppose the Treaty Principles Bill. It’s about something much simpler.

What the fuck did the taxpayer actually get for nearly $900,000 and counting?

Because after 1,075 days, the public record gives us ZERO written questions. And when you’re taking home hundreds of thousands of dollars while claiming hundreds of thousands more in expenses, I don’t think it’s unreasonable for taxpayers to expect more than a few viral moments and a haka.

We don’t pay MPs to become social media celebrities. We pay them to represent us. And if someone can spend nearly three years in Parliament, collect close to $900,000 in identifiable taxpayer-funded remuneration and expenses, and still have ZERO written questions to their name, then perhaps the question isn’t why people are criticising the MP. Perhaps the question is why the hell the taxpayer is getting so little measurable work for the money.

Because nearly $900,000 is a lot of bloody money.

And we’re the ones paying the bill.

Chur.