Being a backbench government Member of Parliament is at best a mixed blessing.

On the one hand, there is the excitement of being part of the government team, able to interact with Ministers from the Prime Minister downwards about what the government is doing and generally being “in the know”. Through Caucus committees, government backbenchers can work alongside Ministers on the development of policy ideas which may eventually come to fruition as government policy.

Government backbenchers can also lobby Ministers about issues of particular importance to the electorates or districts they represent and can generally expect, for obvious political reasons, any such representations to be treated more favourably than if they were coming from an Opposition MP. Locally, they can then claim the credit for moves beneficial to their electorates or regions.

But, on the other hand, the ultimate decisions still rest with Ministers and the Cabinet, meaning government backbenchers are often no more than influential supplicants. And because of collective Cabinet responsibility – the doctrine that binds all members of the Executive, including Ministers outside Cabinet and Parliamentary Under-Secretaries to support all Cabinet decisions – the Executive virtually always has the numbers to prevail in any Caucus discussion.

The formation of the Budget each year, and major policy decisions are almost entirely the province of the Cabinet, with backbenchers usually informed of the details after the event. In case of the Budget, government backbenchers are normally briefed on its contents only about an hour before it is delivered in the House – about the same time as senior Opposition MPs are given an embargoed copy in a pre-Budget lock-up, and considerably later than the media whose lock-up begins hours earlier – yet they are expected to support it enthusiastically when it is debated in the House.

It is often a similar process regarding controversial legislation pushed through under Urgency. In what has become the classic but no means only example, in late 1988 Labour MPs were informed at an early morning meeting of Cabinet’s intention to introduce at 9:00 am that morning under Urgency a Bill to make “some minor technical changes” to the way departmental chief executives were appointed – that Bill was the infamous State Sector Act.

Almost certainly, the same process would have been followed with this week’s dramatic and controversial changes to the way pay equity issues are addressed. The fact that this was an ACT-driven initiative adds a further complication to the process. But the surprise that accompanied its announcement suggested as few people as necessary were aware in advance of the plan for obvious security reasons. Government backbenchers were unlikely to have been in this group.

The upshot was that when Parliament resumed this week after a three week recess this legislation was introduced under Urgency, to be passed through all stages as soon as possible without any reference to a select committee or opportunity for public submissions. The Cabinet simply wanted the legislation passed as quickly as possible, to prevent the possibility of any legal or other challenges before the law was changed.  

To do so, it relied on the support of the government backbench for the obligatory occasional brief supportive speeches and the necessary votes in Parliament for it to happen as quickly as possible. As they did so, the backbenchers would have had to endure the usual standard cries of “shame” and outrage from the other side of the House, notwithstanding that they too when in office – like every government – used and will continue to use Urgency in this way to pass controversial legislation.

Over the next few weeks, it will be the government backbench “lobby fodder” that will have to do the lion’s share of facing up and responding to the anger of those adversely affected by this legislation. They will also be the ones challenged to explain why they supported it. Ministers, meanwhile, will have shifted their attention to the Budget due at the end of May. Between now and then, as is customary, there will be an ever-increasing drip-feed of announcements from Ministers about the good things they have secured in this Budget.

But for the government backbenchers, the same old grind will continue. Once they have weathered the storm over the pay equity legislation, they will need to gear up to support and explain the Budget in its entirety, despite having had a similarly minimal input into its development. And all the while they will be focused on convincing their constituents that they are personally having an impact on what the government is doing and are therefore worth re-electing next year.

For some, the motivation will be a noble belief that their government is always right. For others it will be a case of proving their loyalty to the team and willingness to take the good with the bad, in the hope that one day they will become Ministers. Then they really will be able to have a proactive and meaningful impact on what the government is doing.

 

There is an old saying doing the rounds in Rome at present as Cardinals gather to elect a successor to Pope Francis that "he who enters the conclave a Pope, leaves a Cardinal". While the warning has not always been borne out in recent Papal elections, it does have application more widely.

In the wake of this week’s announcements of Andrew Little’s candidacy for the Wellington Mayoralty and Mayor Tory Whanau’s subsequent withdrawal in his favour, there has been a general assumption that the Mayoralty is now Little’s for the taking, notwithstanding that there are other declared candidates in the race and still over five months until the election.

Nominations for election do not open until the start of July, with the final dates for candidates to declare themselves being August 1. There is still plenty of time therefore for other candidates to emerge or for the electoral scene to change to challenge the emerging sense that the Mayoral election will really be Little’s coronation.

Much of the early support for Little has been because he was seen as the best prospect to topple Whanau. Many moderate and centre-right voters were prepared to hold their noses and to support him on this basis. However, it is an open question whether they will continue to do so now that Whanau has withdrawn, or whether they will revert to form and look for a candidate more in tune with their outlook. If that is the case, the broad coalition predicted to build around Little could be over before it started.

There has been much talk that Little’s ability to work across party lines is just what the dysfunctional and divided Wellington City Council needs right now. But that capacity may be over-stated. Early in the term of the previous Labour/New Zealand First government there was a row over Labour’s intention to scrap the Three Strikes law ACT had promoted during the term of the National-led government.

As Minister of Justice, Little publicly announced Labour’s plans without first consulting New Zealand First (which supported Three Strikes), on the grounds that repealing the Three Strikes law was Labour policy and therefore no consultation was required. It was not a good indication that he could work collaboratively across party lines to achieve an agreed policy outcome.

Little has also been described as a safe pair of hands, just the sort of leader Wellington now needs to address its major problems, responsibly and credibly. But it is worth remembering that in Labour’s second term, Little, as Minister of Health, was the author of the 2021 health reforms which abolished district health boards in favour of a central agency, Te Whatu Ora (since renamed Health New Zealand) and Te Aka Whai Ora, the standalone Māori Health Authority which the National-led coalition abolished on returning to office. 

However, so far, his reforms have not improved the delivery of public health services. Since 2021, the public health service has been bedevilled by ongoing uncertainty about its form and structure; significant staffing shortages across health care professions with no clear plan for filling those gaps, and a continuation of chronic funding shortages.

These examples do not detract from Little’s credibility as a Mayoral candidate, but they do provide a more balanced perspective of his capabilities, in contrast to some of the more inflated claims others are making in support of his Mayoral bid.

As a seasoned politician, Little will understand full well that while his political record will attract scrutiny during the forthcoming Mayoral campaign, his election will depend more on the policy programme he puts forward, and whether that resonates with Wellington voters. He will know that the election is about voters making their choice, not giving him their anointment.

After the dramas of recent years, Wellingtonians want a Mayor and Council that will stick to their knitting and ensure that basic services are efficiently and properly provided. They want rates to be kept as low as possible; an end to social engineering projects like social housing, and vanity projects like cycleways and upgrading the Golden Mile.

Voters will be assessing all candidates on their willingness to make these things happen for the city. Their reputations and experience will be relevant to their capacity to do so.

Although at this stage, Little looks well-placed in this regard, his election should not be accepted as a foregone conclusion. His plans for the city still need to be outlined, then tested, defended and scrutinised alongside those of other candidates during the campaign. Only then will it become clear whether he is the best choice to lead Wellington.

Right now, the last thing Little wants is to enter the campaign looking like a Mayor but ending up a private citizen. It is a message some of his more enthusiastic media and other backers should take on board.

A tense and intriguing political chess game is being played out in Parliament's Privileges Committee at present. It is a game none of those involved can afford to lose, yet inevitably someone will.

On the face of it, the issue at hand is whether the spontaneous haka performed by three Te Pati Māori MPs during the vote on the First Reading of the Treaty Principles Bill last year was a breach of what is quaintly referred to as Parliamentary Privilege.

The concept of Parliamentary Privilege dates back hundreds of years and devolves from the procedures of Britain’s House of Commons devised to enable Members to speak freely in Parliament without fear of legal consequences or loss of freedoms (or their heads at that time). Anyone who inhibits in any way Members of Parliament from freely expressing their opinions in Parliament or going about their normal Parliamentary business is in breach of Parliamentary Privilege and is therefore subject to the judgement of the Privileges Committee – effectively Parliament’s court – for their actions.

In this instance, the allegation before the Committee is that by performing a haka while the vote was being taken on the Treaty Principles Bill, the Te Pati Māori MPs were disrupting the free expression of Parliament’s views on the Bill at that time and were therefore breaching Privilege.

However, the issue now runs more deeply than that. Te Pati Māori’s ill-informed dismissal of what it calls Parliament’s “silly little rules” about Privilege, potentially poses an even greater challenge to the system. They say their actions highlight Parliament’s lack of recognition of tikanga, and that simply must change.

On the other hand, Parliament’s Speaker Gerry Brownlee in a somewhat rare and unusual intervention on a matter still under consideration by the Privileges Committee has described Te Pati Māori’s position as “complete nonsense.” He says a distinction must be drawn between Parliament’s rules and procedures and upholding tikanga.

Brownlee says separate work is already underway through the cross-party Standing Orders Committee to see how tikanga can be more fully integrated into Parliament’s rules, with a report due before the end of this term of Parliament. For that reason, he dismisses Te Pati Māori’s haka actions as “grandstanding”.

But Te Pati Māori rejects the notion that the broader work around tikanga should be treated separately from the haka protest. According to co-leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer the question of tikanga was central to the three MPs’ decision to perform the haka. Therefore, she argues, they must stand up to the Privileges Committee, which she fears wants to “criminalise the haka and criminalise our tikanga” by finding against them.

For its part, the Privileges Committee will want to steer a careful course. The Committee is made up of senior MPs from all parties and is chaired by the Attorney-General Judith Collins who is also a KC. Its focus will be on whether the three MPs’ actions breached Parliamentary Privilege, and if it finds so, what sanctions should be imposed on them. The committee is unlikely to delve too deeply into the wider question of tikanga, leaving that to the Standing Orders committee work already underway.

Should the committee conclude the three MPs have breached Privilege, the delicate issue will be what sanction it recommends Parliament should impose. For the sake of Parliament’s integrity and credibility any penalty should be significant – it cannot look like a slap with a wet bus ticket. However, at the same time, it cannot be unreasonable, which would simply inflame the current situation further and embolden Te Pati Māori’s line that it is the victim of a repressive, racist system. In short, Collins and her committee are going to have to apply a judgment of Solomon.

What is at stake here is the credibility of the body of Parliamentary practice and the protections of Privilege built up over hundreds of years. Therefore, the Privileges Committee cannot act in a way that could be interpreted as arbitrarily weakening that long-standing strong tradition for contemporary political convenience. Should it do so, the institution of Parliament will be the loser.

Ironically, the situation is a little easier for Te Pati Māori. An adverse finding from the Privileges Committee would certainly be a blow to the Party’s credibility to work within the system (in the same way as is its ongoing failure to provide proper accounts to the Electoral Commission in breach of the law). At the same time, however, it would confirm Te Pati Māori’s narrative that the whole system is geared against them, and that in Ngarewa-Packer’s words “This is the cost of standing up. We’ve had this before, and, you know, we just have to pay it again.”

In the end, the issue is less about the Treaty Principles Bill haka, which is sideshow puffery, than it is about achieving a reasonable balance between Parliament’s historical traditions and contemporary tikanga. That will only be achieved through constructive engagement by all sides, not more of the game-playing seen so far.

The government’s relief that New Zealand seems to have escaped a bullet regarding President Trump’s tariffs may be short lived. New Zealand exporters will face a flat 10 percent tariff on goods sent to the United States, but that is at the lower end of the scale of tariffs Trump has imposed on other countries.

However, that may not be where New Zealand’s tariff travails end, if history and the experience of other countries is any guide.

In recent days, Trump has turned his attention to the international pharmaceutical industry, suggesting it was time to apply tariffs to pharmaceuticals because America “doesn’t make anything” in terms of drugs and medicines. He has particularly singled out Ireland, telling the country’s Prime Minister at the White House recently that "all of a sudden Ireland has our pharmaceutical companies, this beautiful island of five million people has got the entire US pharmaceutical industry in its grasp."

America is currently Ireland’s major export market, receiving around 28% of all its exports. Around two-thirds of Ireland’s exports to America are pharmaceutical products, manufactured by American companies operating under licence in Ireland. The Irish economy is therefore especially vulnerable to any new tariffs (potentially as high as 25%) Trump may impose on pharmaceuticals.

New Zealand has no pharmaceutical manufacturing industry to speak so therefore is not vulnerable to tariffs in this way. But it does have the government’s drug procurement agency, PHARMAC, which America has long regarded as anti-competitive in relation to American products entering the New Zealand market.

PHARMAC was established in 1993 to arrange the purchase and supply of the medicines New Zealanders need. Its centralised approach and tough, single price negotiating stance has infuriated pharmaceutical companies the world over, arguably driving those that were operating in New Zealand at the time to move offshore. While PHARMAC has also been the recipient of constant local professional and political criticism for its hard-line approach, it has gained grudging recognition for the part it has played in keeping the country’s overall medicines bill under reasonable control.

However, America has been one of PHARMAC’s most constant and vehement critics, frequently citing its existence – let alone its operation – as a significant barrier to wider trade liberalisation between the two countries. On more than one occasion America has called for the paring back of PHARMAC’s role as the price of any form of freer trading arrangement between the two countries.  To their credit, successive New Zealand governments, have always resisted that pressure.

While PHARMAC does not appear to have been raised during the recent tariff discussions, it seems, given the recent comments about Ireland, only a matter of time before it is. With its preference for substituting cheaper generic drugs for brand-name drugs where feasible, PHARMAC could well be viewed by the Trump Administration as an impediment to the profitability of the American pharmaceutical industry in just the same way it views Ireland’s pharmaceutical manufacturing industry.

And if tariffs are to be imposed on Irish pharmaceutical exports to America, as seems highly likely, New Zealand should prepare for some sort of tariff imposition to blunt PHARMAC’s impact on the profitability of American pharmaceutical companies supplying to the local market. Because there is no New Zealand based pharmaceutical industry to speak of, any response from America will likely be retaliatory across a range of unrelated sectors but aimed at putting domestic political pressure on the government to bring PHARMAC to heel, the way America wishes.

In a word, it would be a case of good old-fashioned bullying, a trade practice America has frequently relied on over the years. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, New Zealand liberalised considerably its laws regarding parallel importing. Parallel importing is the practice of allowing the legal importation of genuine branded goods into a country without the consent or authorization of the brand owner or the official distributor in that market. Parallel imported goods are often cheaper on the retail market than the same goods supplied by the brand owner or official supplier. America lobbied the government of the day and individual politicians extremely hard against parallel importing, which it saw as detrimental to American brand owners, but to no avail.

Many of the arguments now being run by the Trump Administration that American manufacturers have been “ripped off” by cheap imports for years, which is why protective tariffs are now required, are very similar to those raised 25 years ago when parallel importing was an issue. In the current climate, there is no guarantee they will not be raised again insofar as New Zealand is concerned.

Against that backdrop, therefore, and given what seems to be a fast-moving international situation any sense of relief here that New Zealand has escaped the worst of the tariff impositions would be unwise. The recent tariff announcements seem unlikely to be the end of the matter. Trump likes to boast of the number of countries that have apparently approached the White House in the wake of the tariff announcements seeking new more- America friendly trade agreements instead of tariffs.

This makes it clear his wider agenda is to reshape the entire global trading structure away from the free trade emphasis that has dominated international trade discussions since the late 1980s. Trump not only wants to protect American manufacturers from competitive imports, but also to skew the entire global trading system in favour of America’s interests.

New Zealand was a leader in the global free trade movement of the late 1980s and early 1990s. As Trump tries to force the pendulum back the other way, we will not be able to avoid being caught up in the consequences of a struggle that has only just begun.

 

Should former Labour leader and Minister Andrew Little decide to seek the Wellington Mayoralty later this year he will have a very good, but by no means guaranteed, chance of winning.

Little was regarded in national politics as a reasonable, competent safe pair of hands, although sometimes his passion got the better of him, causing the National-led Government to label him "Angry Andy" after one of his not infrequent outbursts in the House when Leader of the Opposition. However, a stint in government as a senior Minister in the Ardern and Hipkins governments seems to have mellowed him somewhat, although that may be severely tested if he ends up as Mayor having to work another of the fractious Councils Wellington has had to endure over recent triennia.

Nevertheless, Little would bring a level of gravitas to the election race that has been missing so far. None of the already confirmed candidates appeals as having the political heft to look like a credible Mayor-in-waiting. Voters yearning for an alternative to the current leadership might well be relieved at the prospect of Little's candidacy. Some may even take the trouble to vote for him, rather than just complain about how bad things in Wellington have become.

Mayor Tory Whanau's reputation has been virtually destroyed by both her personal performance and the Council's public bickering over the last three years. But until Little's name emerged, she remained a reasonable bet to get re-elected because of the array of uninspiring candidates lining up against her and the Single Transferable Vote system Wellington uses for its elections. While she might not be everyone's first choice, she could well win enough of the preferences of lower polling candidates to get over the line again after two or three rounds of counting.

If he runs, Little will need to have a clear electoral strategy to gain most of the second and third preferences of the already declared anti-Whanau candidates. And he will need to communicate that unambiguously to voters so that they understand fully what they must do to defeat Mayor Whanau. Without such an approach, there is the very real prospect of votes being split and preferences wasted, enabling Whanau to come through the middle for a second term.

Little’s second challenge is to craft a credible election platform on which to campaign. Just being a known name with previous central government experience will not be enough – something former United leader Clive Matthewson, another long-term MP and former Minister discovered when he ran and lost to then-unpopular Dunedin Mayor, Dame Sukhi Turner, in that city’s 1998 Mayoral election. Jim Anderton had the same experience as a former Deputy Prime Minister running against previously unpopular Sir Bob Parker in Christchurch in 2010, although that result was heavily influenced by Parker’s forthright leadership in the aftermath of the city’s first major earthquake, just a few weeks before the election.

The problem for Little with policy is two-fold. He has already been critical of the Council’s performance in many areas. However, he will need to be careful in putting forward his policy alternatives not to alienate the Green Party which has endorsed Whanau as its candidate, thereby threatening wider Labour/Green relations in the leadup to next year’s General Election. As a seasoned politician Little should understand that dynamic.

But here is where the second of Little’s problems arises. The votes he will need to chase to win the Mayoralty are not going to come from the centre-left. Disaffection with Whanau and her Council cronies is most pronounced on the centre-right of Wellington politics. It is the votes of those in the leafy suburbs that Little will need to win to become Mayor and his policy package needs to appeal specifically to them. Otherwise, their votes are likely to be split between the motley collection of centre right candidates already in the race and so ensure Whanau’s re-election.

This will be difficult for Little, given his extensive trade union and traditional Labour background. While he has been regarded as a safe pair of hands, he has not been known so far for his ability to work across party lines. For that reason, many of the voters he will need to win over, and who want to see change, will need to be convinced that they can trust Little as a person and that he will deliver the changes they are seeking. If not, they will probably just sit on their hands and not vote in the election, again increasing the prospects of Whanau’s re-election.

On the face of it, both Whanau’s ineptitude and the scatterbrain performance of her Council supporters, who act more like the most extreme and immature of student politicians than responsible Councillors for the capital city, should have ensured the Mayoralty is there for the taking.

However, Wellington’s electoral dynamics are such that what should be a foregone conclusion is not quite that straightforward. It probably explains why so many quality candidates who have been touted as possibilities have ruled out putting their names forward.

Should Little decide to run, he is arguably the best alternative prospect to emerge so far. But he faces an almighty task to turn that prospect into reality, and to become the capital city’s next Mayor.

 

While the government is in the mood for breaking up failing conglomerates like the supermarket duopoly, it should consider doing the same to one of its own largest agencies – the ubiquitous Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment. MBIE was supposed to be the government’s go-to department, but nearly everything it gets involved in ends up turning to dust at some stage.

It was MBIE that devised and managed the cumbersome, draconian MIQ scheme during the Covid19 lockdowns. It was MBIE, rather than the expert drug buying agency PHARMAC, that oversaw the Covid19 vaccine procurement process which left New Zealand one of the last countries in the world to get the vaccines, despite then Minister Megan Woods’ promise that New Zealand would be “at the head of the queue”. Apparently, although the orders may have been placed early enough, MBIE failed to ensure payment in advance to ensure stocks were supplied, a mistake PHARMAC would never have made.

Now, MBIE’s influence appears to have expanded to include judging the value of international events. Its unwillingness to support Auckland Council’s proposal for a bed tax to fund the next America’s Cup defence in Auckland in 2027 seems to have been a major influence on the government deciding not to get involved, and the Cup defence being forced offshore again.

But this is not an isolated case. In recent years, New Zealand has lost the hosting rights for other international sporting events, from the Netball World Cup to the Wellington Rugby Sevens. It is now hard to imagine New Zealand ever hosting a Commonwealth Games or Rugby World Cup series again.

In March 2024, Deputy Prime Minister Winston Peters blamed what he called “overly influential bureaucratic processes, power-drunk government departments, and some decision makers who care more about their fiefdoms than our country’s economic development and international reputation” for these decisions. Auckland Mayor Wayne Brown has suggested the government’s failure to support a visitor bed levy for Auckland to help fund an America’s Cup defence could cost it the next election.

Meanwhile, the government’s political defence of the decision not to provide the estimated $75 million necessary to support a Cup defence in Auckland has been predictable. “There is no magic money tree” says Finance Minister Nicola Willis. “Our priority is New Zealanders’ needs”, she adds, citing schools, hospitals and the cost-of-living. And, drawing on unspecified MBIE advice, she “doubts” the projected $2 billion economic boost that a Cup defence in Auckland was projected to provide. But the $75 million that was sought for the projected America’s Cup defence is a small drop in the government’s bucket, around 0.5% of its annual expenditure, before any economic gains are considered.

The decision also likely sounds the death knell for the Eden Park upgrade. The Prime Minister has already made it clear that the government is unlikely to fund the estimated $110 million needed to upgrade Eden Park.  That will further detrimentally impact our capacity to host international sporting events. Yet taken together, the economic benefits over time from the America’s Cup and upgrading Eden Park would have far outweighed the one-off costs.

All this comes barely a couple of weeks after the government’s vaunted infrastructure summit where the Prime Minister and the Minister of
Finance boldly asserted that New Zealand was open for business again and was actively seeking international investment partners for infrastructure development and significant events.

Both the failure to fund the America’s Cup defence and the upgrading of Eden Park send unwelcome signals about how receptive the government is to be doing the types of deals necessary to bring projects to fruition. Both are good examples where the collaborative investment approach the Prime Minister was so earnestly preaching at the summit could have been applied to overall national benefit. Moreover, the apparent failure to embrace these opportunities does not bode well for possible future infrastructure investment partnerships getting off the ground.

All of which comes back to the “bureaucratic processes” and “power-drunk government departments” Peters was complaining about a year ago. Implicit in those comments was a criticism of the monolithic power of MBIE to stifle development opportunities. There may have been logic at the time of MBIE’s formation in bringing together a key range of government functions as a type of one-stop shop to facilitate progress, but MBIE’s consistently cumbersome and myopic approach, on a range of issues over time, has had the opposite effect.  It is not up to the task and needs to be broken up.

To ensure New Zealand does not become a backwater for international sporting and related events, the government ought to establish a stand-alone independent specialist agency to work on both securing such events for New Zealand and the public and private funding required for them to proceed. After all, our country continues to produce the best sports performers in the world across a vast range of sports and cultural activities. We ought to be able to see them compete here, rather than watching their overseas performances in the middle of the night.

But so long as MBIE’s narrow-minded influence holds sway, that will remain the best New Zealanders can look forward to.

 

A common feature under both the old First-Past-The-Post electoral system and MMP today is that New Zealand has never been subject to dramatic, prolonged shifts in political direction.

While various governments over the years have made bold changes, the process has usually been one of gradualism. If one government goes too far in one direction, the next government either mainstreams or moderates that change. Equilibrium is always restored after swings in the political pendulum. What has therefore evolved has been a process of natural correction rather than radical change.

That was why National’s Sid Holland could deride the Savage Labour Government’s Social Security scheme in the 1930s as “applied lunacy”, only to retain and enhance it when he became Prime Minister over a decade later. Similarly, Sir John Key could dismiss Labour’s Working for Families tax credits scheme as “communism by stealth” in the early 2000s and then embrace it as the backbone of his government’s family assistance programmes a few years later when he was Prime Minister.

On the same basis, Labour vehemently opposed the abolition of compulsory trade union membership in National’s infamous Employment Contracts Act of 1991. However, while subsequent Labour-led governments have modified some of the Act’s provisions, they have never reinstated compulsory unionism, despite it having been a party article of faith for so many years.

Senior Labour MP Willie Jackson made a telling observation at the weekend that one of the reasons Labour lost the last election was because of “identity politics”. He acknowledged that “we did not take enough people with us last time” on the various policy changes the government made. He repeated Labour leader Chris Hipkins’ earlier comment that Labour will not reinstate the policies the electorate rejected in 2023, nor will it overturn all the current government’s policies. As an example of one of the current government’s policies Labour would likely retain Jackson cited the controversial ban on gang patches.

Therefore, New Zealand First’s declaration of a “war on woke” should be looked at against this backdrop of the dominance of the politics of natural correction. At one level, Winston Peters’ declaration is a local version of Trumpism, designed in the main to lock-in the ongoing support of the 5-6% of the electorate that traditionally votes New Zealand First, as well as appealing to those conservative National and Labour voters who feel the country is no longer going quite the way they want it to.

In that regard, it marks the start of New Zealand First’s 2026 election campaign and makes it clear the party intends to be a large thorn in the side of whichever bloc ends up in power, whether New Zealand First is part of it or not. It appears to have ruled out working with Labour, at least under Hipkins’ leadership, claiming it was lied to by Labour when last in coalition with them.

Again, that approach is likely to resonate with New Zealand First’s core base, which has always seen the Party as the aggrieved outsider, perennially wronged by what it considers the excesses of the two old major parties that “need to be taken down a peg.” The fact that both National and Labour have derided the “war on woke” reinforces the New Zealand First base’s view that their cause is right and that they must continue to support the party, in or out of government.

But in the wider context of the politics of natural correction, New Zealand First’s declaration is also important. Peters’ speech outlined a wide range of issues on which he considers the previous government went “woke.”  Some of those policies have also been criticised by his coalition partners, National and ACT and are in the process of either being moderated or dumped altogether. Others, if Jackson’s comments are genuinely reflective of his party’s current position, are unlikely to resurface under a future Labour-led government. Still others are no more than figments of New Zealand First’s vivid conspiratorialist imagination, but valuable rallying cries for its disaffected voter base, nonetheless.

But however much, or little movement there is on any of the so-called “woke” issues, it will, thanks to its overt early claiming of the territory, be a victory for New Zealand First. Any significant movement away from allegedly “woke” policies will prove to New Zealand First they were right all along, while minimal or minor change will enable the party to keep pushing the case for more. It is a simple and cynical, but highly effective, political strategy that comes at no significant cost to New Zealand First.

Previously, there might have been political risks in advocating such an approach so blatantly, but the return of Trump and the sweep of regressive changes he has unleashed has given a new legitimacy to those hankering to promote a similar agenda elsewhere. The rise of Farage’s Reform Party in Britain, and the Alternativ für Deutschland (AFD) in Germany, for example, has shown how appealing Trumpian rhetoric and policies can be to disaffected voters the world over. New Zealand First’s “war on woke” is simply trying to ride the same political wave.

However, the dominance of the process of natural correction means that the "war on woke" is unlikely to succeed to the same extent here. Instead, it is far more likely to end up as a campaign of rhetorical flourish ahead of substance, which will suit New Zealand First very well.  The process of natural correction that has so often been criticised, especially by the ACT Party in recent years, for holding New Zealand back, will likely in this instance prevent a lurch to full-scale Trumpism.

Nevertheless, by claiming the “anti-woke” ground as his own, Peters has stolen an early march on his rivals and thereby probably ensured New Zealand First’s re-election. Peters has always understood better than most that politics is about the acquisition and retention of power. The “war on woke” is simply his latest means to achieve that end.