The Post: A revolution in how local government works could be coming soon to a mailbox near you

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The revolution, in Gil Scott-Heron’s famous phrase, will not be televised – but it might just be mailed out to you.

Next week Wellingtonians should check their letterboxes, and their email, for an invitation to take part in a citizens’ assembly, an initiative that promises to help reset the troubled relationship between resident and council. Aucklanders have already had a happy taste of this new way of doing politics; if it also works in the capital, other areas may soon follow suit.

A citizens’ assembly is, in essence, a miniature public. In Wellington’s case, a firm contracted by the council, Global Research, will send out 10,000 invitations, and from the positive responses will select 40 residents. On six key categories – age, gender, education, home-ownership status, ethnicity and suburb – they will be broadly representative of the wider city.

Their task, over four weeks in September and October, will be to determine what the public wants to see in the council’s long-term plan, which sets the city’s direction for the next decade. Councillors have committed to receiving the citizens’ assembly report, incorporating its advice into their decisions, and reporting back to the assembly on what they’ve done.

It’s the latest sign of a movement slowly gathering steam. Last year, Watercare and the Koi Tū Centre for Informed Futures ran an assembly to determine Auckland’s next major water source. In Porirua, Ngāti Toa is working with the community to run wānanga, or assemblies, that will likewise seek to solve public problems in new ways. Last month’s Future for Local Government Review recommended more such innovations.

So why is all this revolutionary? For a start, it recognises that the relationship between the public and its representatives is seriously frayed. Nowhere is this more evident than in Wellington: a survey last year showed only one resident in eight was satisfied with how the council makes decisions.

These are crisis-like levels of discontent. Locals are sick of political infighting, decisions taken without transparency, and meaningless “tick-box” consultations.

Of course the council hears from residents all the time. But that feedback is, famously, biased towards the rich and the retired. It can also be poorly informed, representing thoughts formed in isolation, not considered opinions forged through deep engagement with dissenting views. Nor is it anchored in the constraints facing public bodies, notably the financial trade-offs required to fund any new service.

This leaves politicians groping in the dark for the public’s true opinion, unsure of what residents would choose if they had to listen to others, justify their views, change their stance, and come to a consensus.

Overseas experience, though, shows citizens’ assemblies can reveal that consensus – and spark change. Ireland used one to set itself on the path to marriage equality. In Melbourne, an assembly of 43 citizens drew up a much-lauded 10-year, $5b budget for the city. France shaped its climate change policy through a “convention citoyenne”.

Some will say this decision-making is precisely what we elect politicians to do. And in many cases they can go ahead and make the calls themselves.

But when they are deadlocked, or when – as is often the case – it is entirely unclear what trade-offs the public wants them to make, a citizens’ assembly can be a circuit-breaker.

Its participants are unencumbered by party lines. Financial supports – including small payments for people’s time – help ensure a wider range of views and experiences are represented than in standard consultations.

Good facilitation ensures everyone gets to speak; participants are taught how to listen and reflect. They are carefully briefed, and can decide which experts they want to hear.

But the real magic lies in discussion: the way the wisdom of the crowd emerges as people shift their views in response to better information and stronger arguments. Being a city in miniature, an assembly can claim that its decisions reflect what Wellingtonians would choose, if all 200,000 of us could be brought together to hash things out.

One citizens’ assembly, of course, doesn’t solve all our problems. Councillors might ignore its advice – something they must be encouraged not to do. There are tough questions to resolve, too, about how such forums sit with Māori aspirations for political autonomy.

The Ngāti Toa and Koi Tū projects are starting to answer such questions, however. And the assembly doesn’t stand alone. It will be followed by another democratic innovation, participatory budgeting, in which residents will be able to directly allocate the funds set out in the long-term plan.

If more such innovations become embedded in New Zealand’s political landscape, we will have taken a huge step towards overcoming democratic dissatisfaction, opening up decision-making, and – quite simply – delivering better services. It would be a victory for a new form of politics, and an initial healing of the bond between resident and representative. It’s exciting – and it’s coming to a mailbox near you.