The ones who didn't come when they were monarchs
Victoria to George V, 1840–1936
Let’s begin with Queen Victoria, who signed modern New Zealand into existence — or rather, whose name Hobson invoked in February 1840 at Waitangi while Victoria herself was presumably doing something considerably more comfortable in Windsor Castle. She reigned for 63 years and her constitutional contribution to New Zealand was enormous, in the technical sense, and, in the personal sense, negligible.
She was the Crown that signed off on the Treaty of Waitangi, the authority behind the New Zealand Constitution Act 1852 (which gave New Zealand its own parliament), and the monarch under whom women in New Zealand became the first in the world to vote in a national election in 1893.
When she died in 1901, New Zealand had been a self-governing colony for nearly fifty years and was about to be elevated to 'Dominion' status.
Next was Edward VII (1901–1910). He was everything Victoria wasn't: sociable, fond of cards and racing, and definitely amused. His contribution to New Zealand's history was presiding over the Dominion upgrade in 1907 which many described as a thoroughly splendid occasion deserving of a parade even if it made virtually no difference to the way the government operated.
Finally, we have George V (1910–1936) was on the throne for two decades of unrelenting catastrophe — the Great War, flappers, the Great Depression, and the rise of fascism across Europe. None of this was his fault but all of which he had to look suitably grave about. It is one of history's grim ironies that the Great War was fought partly between George V and his first cousins Kaiser Wilhelm II and Tsar Nicholas II, who looked so similar that photographs of the three of them together appear to have been taken at a very confused fancy-dress party.
The one who quit and the one who didn't want the job
Edward VIII and George VI, 1936–1952
Edward VIII lasted on the throne for 325 days, which is long enough to be proclaimed King of New Zealand but not quite long enough for anyone to update the coins. He abdicated in December 1936 in order to marry Wallis Simpson, an American divorcée, in what was described at the time as a constitutional crisis and in retrospect looks like a man making a fairly reasonable personal decision in an extremely unreasonable institutional context.
Just before all this, enter, stage right, the Statute of Westminster (1931), which is the most important document in New Zealand's constitutional history that almost nobody has read. It decreed that Britain could no longer pass laws for the Dominions without their consent, and that all the Dominions were equal in status, united by a common Crown but not by a common legislature. New Zealand's response to this landmark document affirming its legislative independence was to politely decline to adopt it until 1947. We are reluctant to grow up.
George VI (1936–1952) came to the throne having wanted it about as much as a person wants a root canal. He had a severe stammer (see the film The King’s Speech), no expectation of ever being king, and a brother who had just made a spectacular exit. He rose to the occasion with great dignity, particularly during the Second World War, when he and Queen Elizabeth (the future Queen Mother) famously refused to leave Buckingham Palace even after it was bombed. Ever the cynics, historians have pointed out that Buckingham Palace, whatever its faults, is a fairly large building with quite a lot of rooms in which to be not-near-a-bomb. George never visited New Zealand as king. His daughter, however, more than made up for it.
A brief timeline of self-governing so far:
1852: New Zealand Constitution Act which gave New Zealand its own parliament
1907: New Zealand's status was upgraded from a Colony to a Dominion to signify a higher level of self-governance. In practice it didn’t mean that much.
1946: The government officially dropped the title "Dominion," instructing officials to stop using it on letterheads - a very New Zealand way of changing your name. Most countries manage a revolution or at least a decent riot. New Zealand asked the typing pool to use different stationery.
1947: New Zealand finally adopted the Statute of Westminster, which granted the country full legal autonomy from the British Parliament.
1953: Through the Royal Titles Act, Queen Elizabeth II was given a separate, distinct New Zealand title. This officially established the "Realm of New Zealand" as an independent monarchy.
So what did all this mean? By the mid-1950s, New Zealand was a fully sovereign realm. It had its own parliament, its own laws, its own foreign policy, its own passports (1949). The Governor-General represented the Crown, but New Zealand's government ran the country. There was still a tie to Britain but that tie was no longer law or dependency, yet to many it was still referred to as ‘home’.
In next week issue we cover the long reign of Elizabeth II and the correspondingly long wait for Charles III (or should it be IV?).
The ones from our lifetime
Elizabeth II to George III, 1953–present day
Elizabeth II visited New Zealand ten times. Ten. The woman clearly liked the place, or at least liked New Zealanders (particularly those who didn’t throw wet clothing at her). It also probably helped that overseas travel was becoming easier.
Her first visit in 1953 was as part of her Coronation Tour. She was the first reigning British monarch ever to set foot in New Zealand and her welcome was enthusiastically patriotic.
Her constitutional role was clear but perhaps misunderstood. The Queen did not govern New Zealand; the Governor-General did that, as her representative. In 1986, the New Zealand tidied up its constitutional arrangements and confirmed what had been functionally true for decades: New Zealand's parliament was sovereign, its courts were independent, and the Crown's role was symbolic rather than directive. It was the constitutional equivalent of finally getting around to filing the paperwork.
Elizabeth died on 8 September 2022, and New Zealand mourned with genuine feeling. Charles III* could finally become King of New Zealand at the exact moment he became King of fifteen other countries. He has visited New Zealand ten times but only as the Prince of Wales, which gives him a connection to the country that is historical rather than emotional. His last visit was in 2019.
What the full arc from Victoria to Charles III* actually shows is a relationship that was once one of clear dependency and has become one of elegant ambiguity. New Zealand went from being governed by a Crown it had no say in choosing, to being a country that happens to share a Crown with several others because nobody has yet formally decided to do otherwise. The monarchy in New Zealand is now held in place less by law than by inertia, affection, and the useful constitutional role of the Governor-General. Charles III* is, in this reading, less a ruler than a constitutional placeholder with a very good wardrobe and an impressive number of organic biscuit brands.
*The Jacobite case for Charles IV
When James II was booted off the throne in 1688 in the Glorious Revolution, his Stuart descendants didn't accept the verdict. They kept right on claiming the throne from comfortable exile in France and Italy, maintaining their own parallel royal numbering system, ignoring the ignominious business of being voted off Britain’s Got Monarchy.
James II's grandson was Charles Edward Stuart, aka Bonnie Prince Charlie. His Jacobite supporters styled him King Charles III. He had portraits painted with a crown behind him to make the point. He would have been King Charles III if he had succeeded in his attempt to recapture the Crown. He didn't, of course. He was decisively defeated at the Battle of Culloden in 1746, and hunted around Scotland for months before escaping back to Europe. (If you wondered what Season 6 of Outlander was all about, that might help explain some of it.) If Charlie had won at Culloden, his son would have been Henry IX.
So the question is simply: do you count him? If yes, (other counterfactuals like William and Mary aside) our current Charles is the fourth. If no, he's the third.
The official answer is obviously no — you don't get a number just for trying. But it's a genuinely awkward question because the Jacobites and their supporters maintained their right to the throne through several generations, and the numbering was not entirely absurd on its own terms.
The current king's full name is Charles Philip Arthur George — he could have chosen any of those names for his royal designation. Many expected him to go with George, which would have been safer historically. He kept Charles (despite the reputations of CI - who famously ended his reign shorter than he started it - and CII - colourful lovelife and several illegitimate children), which means he's now walking around with a number that is either correct or wrong depending on whether you think a failed Scottish rebellion counts as a reign.
The Palace, predictably, has not issued a statement on this.
The one who's our own
It would be remise of us to talk about the monarchy without bringing some focus to our own monarchy, the Kīngitanga. This edition differs from our usual format. Kīngitanga, being one of the oldest political institutions in the country, deserves more than a simple block of text and images. To truly honour its significance, we created an infographic, inspired by our history maps, which offers a concise timeline of Kīngitanga from its inception to the present day. The infographic features several interactive links, allowing you to explore deeper aspects of this history.
You can check out our infographic here, or, you can print off your own version.