27 May 2015

I am as big a fan of John Campbell, as he is of me!

For all that, I do not mind admitting that I will be sorry to see him go at the end of this week. Not because I particularly liked his show – I seldom watched it, and was even more rarely invited to appear on it – but because I think New Zealand television journalism will be the poorer for his departure.

Nor am I especially surprised at the way he has been treated by TV3’s bosses. I well recall having to take the same Director of News and Current Affairs to the High Court in 2005 to gain access to a televised leader’s debate before that year’s general election, having been excluded on the apparently lofty grounds that the studio was not big enough to accommodate all the parties in Parliament. This case – which TV3 screamed blue murder about at the time as the ultimate interference in media freedom and therefore an affront to democracy, but which has never been appealed – showed the regard TV3 has for current affairs. It is really all about ratings and entertainment, ahead of quality and information. It is so pervasive that now even someone like John Campbell has been cast aside unceremoniously in its unrelenting pursuit.

The most disturbing feature of this debacle is the wider message it sends. While we have a number of individually talented broadcasters in New Zealand television, it is now clear that those talents run second to the pre-determined light and fluffy news and current affairs formulae both TVNZ and TV3 now to seem operate by. Campbell may have been excessively unctuous at times – the Obadiah Slope of New Zealand television – but there was no doubting his passion and determination. Without him, television news and current affairs will be reduced to just another succession of barely witty asides between presenters, with precious little analysis or actual understanding of what is going on in the world.

What Campbell’s demise demonstrates is the turmoil in all forms of traditional media as they seek to compete with both the explosion and variety of outlets and the tsunami of social media. I fear for the future of newspapers, still (just) the last bastion of considered commentary and insight, but for how much longer? Radio long ago reduced itself to being the voice of the lowest common denominator, with Radio New Zealand’s admirable attempts to staunch the wounds still succeeding, but only just.

In olden days, before newspapers and mass literacy, news was conveyed by the sonorous tones of the Town Crier, standing in the main square and booming out the latest pithy insights. How ironic it is that with the forced departure of John Campbell and some other seasoned professionals in recent years we, the most literate of peoples ever, are heading back to the modern equivalent of the Town Crier to tell us what we are presumed to need to know, when we need to know it, and to leave our critical powers and intelligence otherwise undisturbed. Hardly a prospect to savour.

Farewell John Campbell. You certainly annoyed and frustrated me, but you also made me think, something your boss Mr Jennings, and likely successors will never have the depth to do.    

 

 

 

 

21 May 2015

The 2015 Budget has been presented, and while Parliament settles down for the next day or so to debate some of the consequential legislation, the public will begin to pick over the entrails to determine their assessment of it. Essentially, it will boil down to one thing – do they feel personally better or worse off as a consequence. They may take account of the small projected Budget surplus, with bigger surpluses to come in the years ahead, but they will also remember there was to be a surplus this year which has not eventuated, so they will take that promise with a grain of salt. They will look at the social assistance package, noting with quiet approval the rise in benefit levels (for some, their anxious consciences will be salved by that) but then they will quickly check to see if they are one of the losers because of the consequential adjustments to Working for Families payments. In most cases, they will conclude that the Government has probably got it “about right” with little real impact on their own circumstances, and so they will just carry on with their lives.

Not that they really expected anything different. The days of Budgets being the year’s “Big Bang” have long since passed, with much of the detail announced by Ministers in the weeks immediately beforehand, even though as the Minister of Finance has shown in this Budget the odd surprise can still be delivered on the day.

All of this is a far cry from the Budgets of old, when people would listen in intently, waiting for the feared words, “As of midnight tonight …”, which usually presaged the introduction of new taxes, levies or reductions in some form or other of government services. Gone too are the old traditions of the pre-Budget stock-up of alcohol, and tobacco products to avoid Budget tax increases – even these are indexed now, and movements in rates announced well in advance, so no-one is caught by surprise. Few truly lament the passage of all that drama.

There is another reason why the Budgets of old should be forgotten. Their fundamental purpose was different – they were the politicians’ version of Scrooge’s Christmas, the one time in the year when goodies were dished out to those whom the Government liked, or wanted to like it, while those whom it did not like or care much about were either ignored or scapegoated. An economic and political morality play, if you like.

Today, the Budget is much more a statement of the Government’s plan of action for the year ahead, a politically and economically strategic document, rather than just handing out the loot. One thing that not has changed in the transition is the attitude of the Opposition. Be they of the left or the right, be the circumstances adverse or more propitious, Oppositions always oppose the Budget, with as much and fire and passion as they can muster, even though changes of government over the years have led to very few changes in Budget settings. Benefit levels are a good example – the last significant uplift in basic levels was when Sir John Marshall was Prime Minister, 43 years ago. When benefits were slashed by National in late 1990, despite its outrage and fury at the time, the Labour-led Government after 1999 did not restore the cuts. Now that a basic adjustment has been made, the Opposition are predictably saying it is not enough.

This is the sort of thing that makes Budget watching such fun – so long as no-one takes it too seriously. Debate will rage in Parliament over the next few days; the pontificating commentariat will have its worthy say; and then, by early next week or so, life will settle back to pretty much what it was beforehand.

Until we go through it all over again next year.            

   

  

 

 

 

 

14 May 2015

There is a peculiar something about Liberalism. As a political creed, it is frequently derided as neither one thing nor the other, an uneasy fit between the ever-converging forces of the left and the right, and therefore doomed to certain and imminent extinction. The electoral slaughter of Britain’s Liberal Democrats last week is the latest iteration of that. A little while ago, Germany’s equivalent, the Free Democrats, was wiped out of the Bundestag altogether, and UnitedFuture is but an often lonely presence in the New Zealand Parliament. It all looks like no more than a series of political funerals waiting for the celebrant to arrive.

But – and here is the paradox – the reality is not quite like that. Since last week’s election rout Liberal Democrat party membership has surged by about 11,000. When UnitedFuture was temporarily deregistered by the Electoral Commission in 2013, our membership swelled immediately by several hundred and continued to grow afterwards even if that surge was not reflected in the subsequent 2014 election result.

This is where the paradox kicks in. It appears, now in Britain, as in New Zealand, that there is a strand in the community that believes that the political message and position parties like the Liberal Democrats and UnitedFuture promote is a legitimate one that deserves to be heard, even if, when the election crunch comes, those same people feel less inclined to actually vote that way. I frequently hear the comment, as I have no doubt the Liberal Democrats would have heard during their recent campaign too, that “it is important that you be there”, but the point that that will only occur if people actually vote for us seems to be missed.

In Britain, it appears that the spectre of a Labour-led government beholden to the Scottish Nationalists spooked many middle of the road voters in England, particularly, to play it safe and vote Conservative, rather than risk their votes on the Liberal Democrats. In New Zealand in 2014, the prospect of a Labour-led government (not of itself an issue) but one containing in any way members of, or links to, the Mana/Dotcom alliance drove many similar voters straight into National’s arms to make sure there was no risk of that happening. As outgoing Liberal Democrats’ leader Nick Clegg said last week, “Liberalism here and across the world is not faring well against the politics of fear.”

The parallels continue. At its high-water mark after the 2002 election UnitedFuture had just under 7% of the seats in Parliament – today it has just under 1%. In the last British Parliament the Liberal Democrats held just under 9% of the seats, reduced today to just over 1%.

In recent days I have been reminded of the Maori story about Ngai Tahu after the massacres by northern tribes led by Te Rauparaha in the 1820s and 1830s – “The Ngai Tahu will rise again.” And so it has proven to be. Similarly, while Liberal flames now flicker faintly in Britain and New Zealand, they have not been extinguished and will rise again.

Meanwhile, back to the reality of next week’s Budget, forthcoming legislation, and the now forecast colder than usual winter that lies ahead. 

     

   

  

 

 

 

 

7 May 2015

The boiling Auckland property market is attracting all sorts of responses, but very little in the way of practical policies likely to achieve anything. There has been much venting of political spleen for precious little impact to date.

On closer analysis, much of the political rhetoric has been nothing more than a recycling of old arguments. The most obvious example is the attempt to resuscitate the tired old capital gains tax proposal. Somehow, imposing a capital gains tax on non-residential property sales will free up houses for first-time buyers, reduce the cost of houses to Aucklanders, so all will be well.

It is utter nonsense. All a capital gains tax will do is ensure that non-residential properties are not sold, and are either retained as rental properties or shifted within families. And even when it does come time to sell them, sellers will factor the spectre of a capital gains tax into their selling price, so the effect on property prices will at best be neutral. Indeed, arguably it could boost property prices further, proving the whole policy to be pointless. But it will satisfy the envy lust of those who feel property investors deserve to be punished. However, that is no credible basis on which to make policy.

In the same camp is the call to restrict the sale of houses to non-residents. This is actually a code for racial discrimination – remember last election when Labour’s policy proposed this but with a specific exemption for Australians (presumably because they are in the main white like most of us?). The real target here is Asians – although none of the racists (politicians and others) promoting such a policy are brave enough to be that blunt, preferring instead to hide behind hints and innuendo. The Governor of the Reserve Bank has noted recently that around 28% of the Auckland population is already Asian, so it is not unreasonable that they might seek to buy property, and, in any case, the sale of properties to Asians is not manifestly out of line with their proportion in the population. So the Asian invasion argument falls out of the window as well.

Then there is the argument that it is all the fault of the Resource Management Act, which has somehow caused the massive growth of Auckland’s population, and made housing unaffordable. The notion that any single piece of legislation holds the key, and that a few amendments to it can solve the Auckland housing problem is as breathtakingly simplistic as it is fundamentally dishonest.

The actual problem is quite specific – there are simply not enough houses in Auckland to accommodate its burgeoning population. It is estimated that Auckland needs to be adding about 10,000 homes a year to its stock, but is currently falling well short of that, by about 2,500 to 3,000 homes every year.

So the immediate challenge becomes bridging that gap. It is essentially a supply issue and the Government, the Auckland Council and the building industry need to be working together to address it. In the first instance, freeing up more land for development has to be a priority, and that is an Auckland Council responsibility. Then, the various construction companies – who seem to have every second advertisement on television promising to build the home of your dreams – need to be cajoled (by central Government if necessary) into focusing their attention and self-proclaimed reputations on Auckland.

The problem is not insurmountable. The challenge for politicians is to make it work. Unfortunately, grandstanding and the chanting of meaningless old slogans remain far more attractive to too many of them. Yet while they bicker, Auckland continues to need at least 50 more new houses every week.        

   

  

 

 

 

 

29 April 2015

A sage observation from St Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, over 1600 years ago continues to shape many of our patterns of behaviour today. It was he who observed wryly that “When I am in Rome, I tend to do as the Romans do”. He could not have imagined the ongoing significance that casual remark would assume, especially in the world of international diplomacy.

The latest example of this practice at work was the decision by the wife of the Prime Minister to wear the traditional loose-fitting anabaya robes, but not a head scarf, during the visit to Saudi Arabia this week. There are arguments for and against doing so – Michelle Obama famously refused to comply during a recent Presidential visit – but, generally speaking, the law of “when in Rome” seems to apply. (Indeed, any Arabic delegation I have met in New Zealand has usually turned up in the most exquisitely cut Amani suits!)

Actually, more important than abiding by whatever the appropriate dress code is considered to be, are the discussions that take place during such visits. In the current case, New Zealand is keen to conclude the long-awaited Free Trade Agreement with the Gulf Co-operation Council states, of which Saudi Arabia is the leading member. The balancing act for the Prime Minister was whether he was prepared to pull his punches on Saudi Arabia’s utterly appalling human rights record, particularly with regard to women, and its heavy reliance on decapitation, whipping and mutilation in its justice system.

Over the years, New Zealand, despite its proven record in human rights, has not always been up to the mark when it comes to expressing horror at the barbaric practices of others. We implicitly condoned apartheid South Africa right through until the mid 1980s; we have long been tongue-tied when it comes to China’s human rights record; and, we seem set to do likewise with Saudi Arabia.

However, frustrating and humiliating as that can be, we could never be accused of playing international bully. Yet it is difficult to escape applying that description to Australia’s handling of the recent Bali Nine ringleaders’ executions. While nothing excuses the barbarism of Indonesia’s actions, the various interventions by Australia – Foreign Minister Julie Bishop notably excepted – all served to make it virtually impossible for Indonesia to get off its high horse with any semblance of dignity. From the crass linking of Australian aid after the Boxing Day tsunami to favourable consideration of this case, through to independent commentary in Australia on the eve of the executions that the actions of President Widodo actually showed his political impotence, Australia appeared hell-bent on humiliating Indonesia into submission, rather than saving the lives of its two citizens.

There is a lesson here for New Zealand. A New Zealander is currently on trial for his life on drugs charges in Indonesia, and potentially faces the fate as Chan and Sukumaran. We need to be talking quietly to the Indonesians now, letting them know our views, and working with them to see if a reasonable solution can be effected. The process needs to be ongoing, not just left until the last few months.

As recent events show, preserving the human rights of a country’s citizens can be a far more delicate form of observing St Ambrose’s principle of “When in Rome’ than just abiding by the local dress code.          

    

  

 

 

 

 

23 April 2015

The words “We will remember them. Lest we forget,” will be intoned in ceremonies across New Zealand, Australia, and the Gallipoli peninsula this weekend, as people of many ages and backgrounds commemorate the bravery of those who took part in the ill-fated landings a century ago. And so they should. Those events at ANZAC Cove that morning, now shrouded in almost as much legend as reality, shaped the characters of at least two nations, and established the bond between Australia and New Zealand that endures today.

In New Zealand, at least, ANZAC Day has become the closest thing we have to a genuine national day, where we pay tribute to and celebrate the characteristics and values we regard as intrinsic to being a New Zealander today. (Please stop this incessant reference to us as Kiwis – I for one do not like being compared to a dumb, flightless bird!)

But what about the relationship with Australia? There is certainly the quant sibling  rivalry referred to de rigueur in almost every speech on the subject, although that is mainly on the sports field. We speak a marginally better form of English than they do, although that distinction seems to be receding as our diction is increasingly reduced to grunts and slovenly nasal twangs, more redolent of the other side of the Tasman. We have broadly the same things in our shops, and like visiting each other. Oh, and Australian Prime Ministers keep referring to us as “family”. But beyond that superficiality, the relationship is more akin to that of the distant cousin, rather than the close sibling we like to portray it as.

This is not altogether surprising. Since Seddon properly rejected the invitation for New Zealand to join the Commonwealth of Australia at the time of Federation in 1901 we have, in our parlance, paddled our own wakas. Occasionally, there have been attempts to invigorate the relationship, from the Canberra Pact in 1944, through to the New Zealand Australia Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) of 1967, and most notably the Closer Economic Relations (CER) agreement of 1983, but benign neglect has been the more general characteristic. And in such interactions as occur, the presumption is always of New Zealand being not quite on a par with New South Wales, rather than as an equal sovereign nation. (The nadir most surely – aside from the infamous underarm incident – must have been the Keating Government’s decision via a curt late night fax in the early 1990s to terminate consideration of a single aviation market.)

While Australia and New Zealand are clearly two different and distinct countries, there are arguably no more similar peoples on earth. Despite all the rivalries, we genuinely like each other too. And as Gallipoli and so many other campaigns demonstrate, we have been side by side on so many occasions. The sentiments we express about our closeness are genuine, even if the reality is a little less than that.

So, as we invoke the ANZAC spirit this weekend and promise afresh never to forget the sacrifices of an earlier generation that crisp April morning a century ago, let us mark the occasion by breathing fresh life into the modern Australia New Zealand relationship. As two equal sovereign states, let us honour our forebears by making our relationship the closest of any two nations on earth. A practical starting point would be to allow our respective citizens free movement across our borders, without the need for a passport, as is increasingly the case in Europe. 

The spectacular memorial gift to grace Wellington’s Pukeahu park is one thing – but, Mr Abbott, a move on passports would be a much more enduring recognition of the bond we say we forged at Gallipoli.

   

  

 

 

 

 

16 April 2015

One of the most enjoyable election campaigns I have ever fought was in 1990. I was a Minister in an unpopular Labour Government headed for massive defeat. Yet the voters were unfailingly courteous and polite at every stage of the campaign. Why? Quite simple really – they had already decided they were going to change the government, and were simply going through the process of saying goodbye. Indeed, I joked often at the time that if we had promised to give every voter a gold bar, the response would have been, “Thank you – do you think the National party will allow us to keep it?”

Over the years since, I have been reminded of that experience every time I hear some commentator or other speculate that a government might be losing public support, or that a change of government at the next election might be on the cards. In the wake of last month’s Northland by-election I have had cause to think of it again too. The plain fact is that political tides ebb and flow, and once they start to ebb, they seldom return in favour of the government of the day.

The question that inevitably arises is at what point the present government is in the tide. It is in its third term – and is our tenth government since the National/Labour duopoly began with Labour’s election in 1935. Just two of those governments served four terms; four prior to the present government served three terms. So, on the face of it, a reasonable conclusion might be that the current government is unlikely to win another term in 2017.

But it is no longer as simple as that. While my dictum about political tides still applies, the advent of MMP has introduced a few new eddies and rips into the political tidal flow that make things more unpredictable. And because the system now relies on multi-party governments, it is less polarised overall than the two-party club which dominated elections from 1935 to 1993.

There is another factor too. Over the years, our system has become more presidential (starting with Norman Kirk’s all too brief time as Prime Minister). The Prime Minister has become less “primus inter pares” and is now the dominant face of government.

Sir Robert Muldoon, Helen Clark and Jim Bolger all typified the modern Prime Minister. When they were riding high, so too were their governments. When they fell in public esteem, their governments fell with them. (Bolger is arguably in a slightly different position because of the added factor of the taint from his association with New Zealand First, but the essential point remains.)

John Key is in a slightly different position again. We have never had a Prime Minister who has increased his support over three successive elections. (Lange managed it in two elections – only to crash spectacularly and resign abruptly within two years of his re-election.) All the signs are that Key still retains a strong rapport with New Zealand voters, but given the heights of his support, his fall may be all the more dramatic when it occurs.

So, when will that be? Despite the commentators panning his recent performances, my sense is that this is still some time off. Budget 2015 and the Northland by-election setback are not the turning points. The Prime Minister knows his fate rests on his ongoing connection with the voters, in the towns and workplaces across the country. Yes, he sometimes get photographed wearing silly hats, and seldom ducks the chance of a selfie, but his critics dismissal of him as “Mr Smile and Wave” misses the point. There is far more to John Key than that.

There was another Prime Minister who behaved in a similar way – Sir Keith Holyoake, “Kiwi Keith”. Often derided by his critics at the time for his pragmatism and consensual style, he is the only National Prime Minister to have won four successive elections. More than most, John Key is acutely aware of that.