Final in a series of five
No sooner has a party got on top than it has to work out how to stay on top. That requires constant replenishment. A durable government needs a strategic cabinetmaker.
Contrast two episodes from history.
By 1949 the first Labour government was in the last of its 14 years in office. It’s top six ministers had all been there since 1935. Prime Minister Peter Fraser could not bring himself to fire old comrades. It was a visibly tired and hidebound government.
Don Brash is 25 years behind the times and 25 years ahead of the times on “race”. How can he be both? Because these are revolutionary times.
Twenty-five years ago we were still securely British and the Treaty of Waitangi was a worm-eaten relic. Maori were honorary whites and those who refused that status and battled the Crown for return or retention of land were “radicals”.
Fourth in a series A farm girl leads the left party. A socialist preacher’s son leads the right party. We are truly the Antipodes.
There was a rule: farmers vote National. Helen Clark’s parents were National, her father a minor office-holder.
Clark went off to boarding school in Auckland, as brainy rural offspring did, even girls, then to university, where she got social democracy — bad enough to join the Labour party, stand for Parliament on the home patch in 1975 and become an MP in 1981.
Don Brash’s quaint, or disingenuous, comment on being courteous towards a belligerent Helen Clark was not just gender politics. It took us into a branch of one of the deep contexts of this election, our very liberal society.
The branch Brash touched on is civility. In our sorts of societies the rules by which we rub along have frayed, or seem to have. Deference, respect and courtesy seem to have vanished into “me”-centred consumerism.
Do you buy on brand or price? Are you what you wear and eat and groove to? Do you have to have the latest electronic techno-twist?
This is the modern language of politics. Parties now bother about brand and hire marketers.
Take leaders. David Lange was a brand, judging by this month’s public celebration of myth: anti-nuclear and stand-up-for-ourselves. Winston Peters is a brand: challenge, controversy, maverick, outspokenness. Don Brash came into politics as a brand: monetary disciplinarian. Peter Dunne became, briefly, a brand: commonsense.
So now we have the binge election. Just like old times. Try this scenario. The economy is booming. Agricultural prices are high. The Budget is flush. A Finance Minister says: “I’ve spent the lot.”
2005? No, 1972. Sir Robert Muldoon’s chortle of glee at having, he thought, skewered his Labour opposition, mattered not a whit in the election.
Tax is now on the table. Do the numbers, decide your vote. Is that the election?
Or do you add up what parties want to spend on you or your children or on roads or police or your special fancy?
Helen Clark has studied John Howard’s election-winning technique in Australia’s election last October. Howard spent the bank and won a fourth term. Don Brash is taking a leaf from George Bush’s election-winning book: tax cuts will make us all rich.
Second of five
Don Brash wore a red tie in the leaders debate on TV3 on August 11. Red conveys strength and warmth, marketers say. Blue just won’t do.
Such is campaigning in the twenty-first century. Contrast Sir Keith Holyoake’s 1969 campaign opening in a dingy hall in Christchurch — shouting to be heard over anti-Vietnam protesters’ barracking barrage, forgetting that his real audience was not in the hall but on the end of a radio, hearing the protesters as muted background.
Those were the days, 20 years back. The choice was Labour or National or protest: Sir Robert Muldoon obsessive-aggressive micro-manager, expansive-defensive rhetorician David Lange or victim-prophet Bruce Beetham.
They’ve all now gone. Lange’s death symbolically administers the last rites to that age.
First of five A curse on small parties, some say. Why can’t Labour and National get together and stop tails wagging the dogs? After all, this line goes, there is less difference between the two big parties than between them and some of the minors.
Not so. Our politics are built around the two big warring parties, which have in the past joined forces only in times of national crisis.