Everything you ever wanted to know about the popularity of flounder in Massachusetts

Today’s edition of the Stuff-owned Wairarapa Times-Age runs to 32 tabloid-sized pages. Seven pages consist of exclusive local content, including a Wairarapa sports page, a locally written gardening page and a half-page devoted to lightweight, reader-generated material such as a local amateur photo and a folksy “Thought for the Day” slot to which the same handful of readers habitually and predictably contribute.

The rest of the paper is centrally generated by Stuff and presumably shared with other papers in the Stuff group. There are just two pages of national news, one of world news and three of national and international sport. Those pages aside, the paper mainly consists of what I would call filler material. A less polite term is editorial dross - published not because it’s interesting, relevant or important, but because it’s cheap, readily available and fills space.

There’s a full-page interview with a Paris-based New Zealand architect whose name was unfamiliar to me, an investment column by Martin Hawes, a full-page feature from US-based Associated Press about the contest between China and America for global AI supremacy, a full-page opinion piece about public servants not being honest with politicians, two wordy and esoteric opinion pieces by chin-stroking Wellington academics, yet another full-page opinion piece about shortcomings in the way we do politics (on the face of it, a valid subject until you realise the writer is a lobbyist for an industry group and thus open to the accusation of self-interest), a two-page travel spread written for no obvious reason other than that the writer was offered a freebie by a cruise ship company, three pages of puzzles (that’s right, three, one of which replaced a weather page, presumably dumped because it cost too much), two pages devoted to TV shows most people can’t watch because they’re streamed on platforms only a minority can afford to subscribe to, and finally a full-page obituary from the Times of London about an Israeli scientist only a tiny handful of readers would have heard of (a common factor in the obits published by Stuff, although it routinely ignores the deaths of notable New Zealanders).

Admittedly, by wretched contemporary standards, seven pages of local content out of 32 isn’t too bad. I’m told it’s better than many Stuff regional papers manage. And the T-A still has an editor and four reporters, for which we should be grateful.

I should add that today’s paper is pretty typical. Some editions are worse, some better. But it would be a rare paper that doesn’t devote pages of prime editorial space to turgid content no one is going to read. Last Friday’s paper included a 1700-word, full-page feature from AP about the resurgence in the popularity of flounder on American restaurant tables and the delight it’s causing to chefs and fishermen in Massachusetts. Compelling reading for people in Eketahuna and Carterton? Somehow I don’t think so. (I should point out that the editor of the Times-Age, to my knowledge, has absolutely no control over what goes on non-local pages.)

A common characteristic of the many opinion pieces published by Stuff is that they are about subjects of extremely narrow interest and often better suited to dry academic journals. They are certainly unlikely to command the urgent attention of a general newspaper readership that consists not of honours degree students and members of the Wellington political class but of hairdressers, bank tellers, nurses, farmers and truck drivers with real-world concerns and limited time to skim the paper.

Twenty years ago – even 10 years ago – such articles would not have found an outlet in the mainstream media. I suspect they are published because the writers are eager for public exposure and happy to make their work available for nothing.

I recently sent an email to Stuff owner and CEO Sinead Boucher in which I protested at the amount of useless padding in my daily paper and accused Stuff of treating readers of its regional papers with contempt.

I wanted to know why, with all its editorial resources, Stuff couldn’t fill the paper with interesting and relevant New Zealand content. I pointed out that Boucher, in a recent email to subscribers, had boasted about Stuff’s “impactful” journalism. She named some of the star reporters whose work she particularly prized and I wondered why their work was never seen in the Times-Age. (For the record, they are not necessarily journalists I would rush to read. But Boucher is obviously proud of them and they are at least writing about issues relevant to New Zealand.)

Boucher’s reply seemed to confirm what I had heard from others. Stuff operates as two separate divisions, print and digital. Stuff Digital is owned 50/50 with Trade Me and its content, astonishing though it may seem, is not available to Stuff newspapers. The two divisions apparently function as self-contained siloes and don’t talk to each other, despite sharing the same corporate brand. I suspected as much because there have been times in the recent past when stories of direct local interest and relevance to Wairarapa readers appeared online on Stuff but not, bizarrely, in the Stuff-owned paper that supposedly serves the region.

Surely there’s the problem, right there? In a follow-up email to Boucher I observed that it seemed a fundamentally flawed structure - one that relegates readers of Stuff regional papers to the status of second-class customers, fed vast tracts of nondescript throwaway material while premium content is reserved for online subscribers.

I won’t go into the detail of Boucher’s reply to my email. Suffice it to say that the tone was prickly, defensive and full of self-pity at how difficult it is to be in the journalism game these days. All of which I know, partly because Boucher frequently tells us.

She also suggested I'm a cranky old has-been, pining for the good old days and resentful at no longer being a person of influence. To which I responded that no, I simply believe it’s in society’s best interests for newspapers to survive and flourish and I don’t see it happening under her watch. Stuff is a corporate train wreck and nothing Boucher and her team of executives do or say gives me any confidence whatsoever.

 

 

Camp Freedom revisited

Where should the balance be struck between public safety and individual freedom? At what point should the latter be curtailed to protect the former? More than four years after the anti-vaccination encampment that ended in mayhem outside Parliament, the answer isn’t clear.

New Zealand in 2020 was threatened by a global pandemic. No one knew how serious it might be.

As it turned out, we escaped relatively lightly. The Royal Commission on Covid-19 cited statistics that showed case numbers here were much lower than in most comparable countries. Deaths per capita in New Zealand were among the lowest in the OECD.

Our geographical isolation may have had something to do with that, but defenders of the Ardern government argued that it was primarily the result of decisive official action to contain the spread of the disease. Those measures included lockdowns, draconian travel restrictions and vaccination mandates that had the effect of punishing people who refused to take “the jab” by excluding them from jobs and community activities such as sport and church.

These were actions that no free society would have contemplated in ordinary circumstances and they caused immense social and economic disruption, the impact of which is still being felt as retail and hospitality businesses struggle to recover.

To all intents and purposes, New Zealand became a police state where people’s daily lives and freedom of movement were subjected to strict controls. But by and large, the public accepted these as necessary because the government didn’t know what it was dealing with or how many might otherwise die.

A generous spoonful of sugar, in the form of reassuring words from the prime minister, helped the medicine go down. “Be strong and be kind” – but especially “be kind” – became Jacinda Ardern’s catchphrase. Urged on by her daily pep talks from the Beehive, the vast majority of New Zealanders fell into line notwithstanding abundant evidence of official dissembling and incompetence in the management of the pandemic. And the government, citing relatively low mortality figures, was able to claim vindication for its strategy.

But there was always a substantial body of opinion that pushed back. It wasn’t clear at the time how big that dissident group was, since its existence was largely unacknowledged by mainstream media that unquestioningly supported the government and treated the non-compliant minority as pariahs.

It wasn’t until the occupation of Parliament’s grounds in February 2022 that the country grasped the scale of this underground resistance. The protest seemed to come out of nowhere but had been gathering momentum for months out in the heartland.

I was in Wellington on the day the convoys of the non-compliant rolled into town from opposite ends of the country and remember being astonished at the unprecedented spectacle of the streets around Parliament choked by protest vehicles. Even the police seemed to be caught completely off guard.

If the scale of the protest was the first surprise, there was another to come. Most protests at Parliament last a few hours at most and then the participants drift away. This one was different. The protesters and their vehicles were still there the next day and the day after that, in steadily increasing numbers and with comprehensive resources (paid for by Russia, Trevor Mallard astonishingly claimed - with no elaboration - before a bemused audience at this year’s Featherston book festival) that suggested they were there for the long haul. They ended up staying for more than three weeks before being driven out in a violent police operation that trashed all their equipment.

A third surprise, for me, came with the release in September 2023 of the documentary film River of Freedom. This served as a powerful corrective to the overwhelmingly negative and often wildly inaccurate, if not dishonest, media coverage of the protest camp and the motives of the people who took part or otherwise supported it. In particular, River of Freedom presented a compellingly different narrative to that of the hysterically overwrought Stuff documentary Fire and Fury, which came out the previous year and framed the anti-vax protest as being masterminded by agents of the far Right.

I wrote at the time that for me, the most striking scenes in River of Freedom (the title was inspired by cabinet minister Michael Wood’s contemptuous characterisation of the protest camp as a “river of filth”) were not the ones showing the fiery climax of the occupation at Parliament. “Dramatic though those were,” I wrote, “we had seen them before. No, I was most struck by scenes we hadn’t seen; namely, the ones that showed enthusiastic crowds lining the protest routes all the way from Cape Reinga and Bluff to the capital.

“Even out in the countryside, boisterous supporters – too numerous by far to be dismissed as a mere rent-a-mob display – turned out in force to wave placards and cheer as the convoys rolled past. Motorway overbridges were shown jammed with well-wishers, even in foul weather.

“Clearly, something unprecedented was happening out in heartland New Zealand, but where were the mainstream media? Precious little of this was reported in the press or shown on the TV news. To all intents and purposes, the rolling protest was rendered invisible.”

River of Freedom reinforced a strange sense that there were now two New Zealands – one approved by the political, bureaucratic and media establishment, the other a rough-and-ready Kiwi equivalent of Hillary Clinton’s deplorables.

With no advance promotion other than word of mouth and social media, the film played to packed houses. My first attempt to see it was thwarted because screenings in Masterton were sold out. Stuff film critic Graeme Tuckett, who wrote an admirably fair review of the movie (but without straying too far from his employer’s pro-Ardern editorial line), struck the same problem in Wellington, where it took him a week to get a ticket. The movie ended up playing in 54 cinemas, mostly in the provinces, and in September 2023 became the most watched film in the country.

Now Gaylene Barnes, the director of River of Freedom, has collaborated with movie publicist Siân Clement to produce a follow-up book called Heart of the Protest. It’s a substantial piece of work: 423 pages, liberally illustrated and comprehensively footnoted with references to sources. It sets out how the protest came about, documents in detail the occupation of Parliament’s grounds and introduces the reader to key participants.

The book doesn’t pretend to be impartial. It's as relentlessly positive in its depiction of Camp Freedom as mainstream media coverage was dismissive and disparaging.  But like Barnes’ film, it serves as a valid and necessary counterpoint to the often grossly lopsided narrative presented by mainstream journalists and commentators who made no attempt to engage with the anti-vax protesters, preferring to portray them as, at best, a motley collection of oddballs and, at worst, dupes of shadowy malevolent alt-Right agitators and, bizarrely, white supremacists. (Did they not notice the number of brown faces and the distinctly Maori vibe of the protest? Probably not, since the closest most reporters got to the protest was looking down – literally and figuratively – with Mallard from the balcony of Parliament.)

Heart of the Protest manages to be less emotionally incontinent than Fire and Fury (which, it should be noted, was made with taxpayer funding via NZ on Air, and therefore had the greater obligation to be even-handed). Perhaps the book’s greatest fault is that in its desire to give a voice to a wide range of protesters, it becomes tediously repetitive.

And the range of protesters was wide, including people who had willingly been jabbed themselves but objected on principle to others being forced to accept vaccination and losing their jobs if they didn’t. And while the protesters included some who were named in the media as inciting anti-vax fervour for nefarious ends (which were never specified), the worst that most people in the book could be accused of – including the authors themselves – is sheer earnestness. Their distress at what they saw happening to friends and families as a result of lockdowns and vaccination mandates, to say nothing of their hippy-ish delight in the communal togetherness of the protest camp, was palpable and genuine. Arguably, the book should come with a publisher’s warning that it contains more hugging, tears and New Age-speak than some readers will be able to tolerate.

Heart of the Protest reminds us of some things that we might otherwise be tempted to forget, such as the complicity of journalists and opposition parties when what was sold to us as compassion morphed into coercion and authoritarianism. People whose function was to question, scrutinise and challenge those in power went missing in action.

My opinion, for what it’s worth, is that politicians emerged from the pandemic with less dishonour than the mainstream media. The government could claim justification for its actions on the basis that it was dealing with an unprecedented crisis. That, however, didn’t release the media from their duty to hold those in power to account. It was the media’s choice to function as the state’s PR apparatus and in doing so, they may well have contributed to the well-documented decline of public faith in journalism.

Parallels with other events in New Zealand history? The 1981 Springbok tour is an obvious reference point. On that occasion too, a determined minority took direct action over what they saw as a compelling moral cause and ended up in a head-on confrontation with the forces of authority. Robert Muldoon’s National Party government was rewarded with a narrow win in the subsequent general election.

Ardern’s government had no such luck. By the time the 2023 election rolled around, the mood of the country had changed. Ardern’s magic had lost its potency and perhaps sensing that, she had stepped down.

But a more striking point of comparison is the epic 1951 waterfront dispute, when the state exercised its power to force militant wharfies and their allies in other unions into submission, even to the extent of criminalising statements of support for the unionists and prohibiting gestures of help such as food donations to their families. On that occasion, a National government used emergency powers in the Public Safety Conservation Act to enforce media silence and minimise public resistance. National resoundingly won a subsequent snap election then, too.

Both events provided a lesson in how easily a society can be persuaded that the suspension of basic rights – freedom of speech in 1951, freedom of movement and the right to refuse medical treatment in 2021-2022 – is justified in the public interest, and how easily people who don’t fall into line can be “othered”. New Zealanders who opposed lockdowns and mandates were seen as letting the side down. In a New Zealand Herald opinion poll at the time, only 12 per cent of respondents supported the protest camp.

But the passage of time has a way of altering the public perception of such events. Seventy-five years on, the suspension of fundamental civil liberties during the waterfront dispute seems inconceivable by the standards of a modern liberal democracy, just as the harsh treatment of conscientious objectors during wartime – then regarded as uncontroversial – now strikes many people as shocking.

Then there was Bastion Point. Much of the country cheered (I admit I did) when the police ended Ngati Whatua’s occupation of their ancestral land in 1978, but the public today would probably take a much more sympathetic view of the iwi’s protest.

Whether the anti-vax movement will eventually be the subject of similar historical revisionism remains to be seen, but River of Freedom and now Heart of the Protest at least introduce a semblance of balance into what was previously an overwhelmingly one-sided narrative. They also provide an alternative perspective without which the question posed at the start of this article can’t properly be answered.

■ The authors of Heart of the Protest struck resistance from the book trade, so you may not find the book in mainstream book shops. However it’s available for $39 (plus postage) from the River of Freedom website, which also lists outlets that stock it.

Mallard in Fantasyland?

I attended two sessions at the Featherston Booktown Festival on Saturday. One, on the state of the news media, was almost totally useless. I walked out before it had finished. The other, however, was not only entertaining but produced one of those “Did he just say what I thought he said?” moments from former Speaker and Labour Party minister Sir Trevor Mallard.

In the panel discussion on the media, Duncan Greive from The Spinoff was the only speaker who brought any insight to bear. The contributions of the other participants – Mike McRoberts from NBR, TVNZ’s Te Aniwa Hurihanganui and moderator Michelle Duff – were shallow, predictable and carefully modulated to elicit murmurs of sympathy and agreement from the full hall.

It would have been a whole lot livelier if Sean Plunket, Michael Laws, Heather du Plessis-Allan, Peter Williams or even Barry Soper had been invited to speak, but that was never going to happen. Book festivals are not noted for their openness to ideas and opinions that challenge prevailing orthodoxies. There are audience sensibilities to be considered.

The preceding session on politics was a lot more rewarding. The subject was the turbulent politics of 2017-2023: the Ardern years. And while there was the same non-threatening quality about the speakers, two of them – Chris Finlayson and Trevor Mallard – at least spoke with the advantage of first-hand, close-up experience. Two journalists, Stuff’s Henry Cooke and the aforementioned Hurihanganui, seemed to be there to make up the numbers and didn’t have a great deal to contribute.

It was a crowd-pleasing session, deftly chaired by Toby Manhire from the Spinoff. Finlayson, nominally the right-wing voice on the panel, was never likely to upset anyone and was presumably invited for exactly that reason. He’s the Left’s favourite conservative: an old-school National Party liberal who quickly earned the crowd’s favour by making it clear he doesn’t have much, if anything, in common with the “Muppet” government (his term) that’s now in power. He remarked that because of the coalition government’s “blowback” on Maori issues, he now feels more like the opposition.

The fact that Finlayson has long been out of politics not only renders him acceptable to left-leaning book festival audiences - since he's no longer in a position of power - but frees him to be frank, all of which makes him ideal for the festival circuit. He’s an engaging raconteur and can be tartly humorous, as when he talked about the many “WTF moments” when National was chaotically in opposition, drolly referring to one former party leader as “Muller the Brief” and to another, Simon Bridges, as a shit.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard Finlayson say that if he had won the then Labour-held Rongotai electorate, which he contested for National with no expectation of winning and plainly no desire to do so, he would have demanded a recount. It’s a good self-deprecating joke that bears repeating.

For his part, Mallard, having been Speaker during the anti-vax occupation of Parliament's grounds, was plainly concerned with putting a favourable spin on his involvement in that unprecedented brouhaha. He told the audience that a lot of “marginal people” were involved in the protest camp – people who had “gone down rabbit holes”, including mentally ill individuals he knew from his Hutt South electorate; in other words, nut cases and no-hopers.

I wonder if anyone else in the hall felt, as I did, that this was a less than empathetic way for a Labour MP – one who makes much of the fact that he represented the battlers from working-class Wainuiomata – to brush aside the concerns of people who are social casualties. Henry Cooke pointed out that many of the protesters had lost their jobs because of the vaccination mandate (although I don’t recall Stuff taking the trouble to make that clear at the time) and Te Aniwa Hurihanganui acknowledged that they were a “real mix of people”. Mallard justifiably copped a lot of flak for his arrogance and indifference to the protesters’ grievances during the occupation of Parliament’s grounds and I wondered on Saturday whether he had learned anything from the experience. Perhaps not.

He also criticised the police for taking too long to deal with the protest encampment (oh, so it was their fault, to paraphrase Basil Fawlty) and he defended the use of water sprinklers – which were seen, along with the notorious Mallard-instigated Barry Manilow broadcasts, as an attempt to dislodge the occupants – as being necessary to wash away human waste. That was a new one on me and I wondered whether it was a convenient justification post-event.

But the big surprise – one that even had the stranger next to me turning to me with a look of disbelief – was Mallard’s claim that the protest camp was funded by Russia. Yep, that’s right: Mallard reckoned someone paid for millions of dollars – yes, millions – worth of camping equipment that mysteriously turned up in Parliament’s grounds. Protesters suddenly had money to spend and he had no doubt that money came from offshore – Russia, he said.

Whoa! That came completely out of left field. My astonishment was shared by my fellow  journalist David McLoughlin, who was also at the session and like me, thought Mallard’s claim was bizarre. No explanation was offered as to why Vladimir Putin should spend millions paying for anti-vax protesters to camp in comfort in the most distant capital in the world. Payback for New Zealand supporting sanctions against Russia following the Ukraine invasion, perhaps? Not totally implausible, but it's the sort of far-fetched scenario that only an over-active imagination might come up with. Neither was it clear why the allegation had never emerged before.

Certainly there was feverish talk in 2022, some of it from the excitable, conspiracy-obsessed Sanjana Hattotuwa of the Disinformation Project (remember them?), about alleged Russian-sourced disinformation. Canada too was identified as a source of malevolent anti-vax propaganda, Jacinda Ardern noting the supposedly incriminating evidence that Canadian flags were being flown in the protest camp. But Russia spending millions on tents and sleeping bags? That was a new one.

Surprisingly, despite two political journalists being on stage with Mallard when he made the allegation, nothing has been reported, at least to my knowledge. Here was a former senior government politician – the Speaker of the House of Representatives and subsequently ambassador to Ireland – alleging malign foreign interference in our domestic affairs. I would have thought there was a story in it (“Russia funded Wellington protest camp, says Mallard”), but apparently not. Perhaps Cooke and Hurihanganui decided it was just Mallard running off at the mouth and not worth taking any further. But previous generations of political reporters, their news antennae twitching furiously, would have been pursuing him for elaboration.

What, if anything, should we make of it? For me it had echoes of former Waitakere mayor and Labour grandee Bob Harvey’s startling allegation in 2000 – similarly unsubstantiated – that the CIA was involved in the death of Norman Kirk, which had even his friend Helen Clark looking sideways at him. Mallard’s claim has the same slightly loony, off-the-wall quality. If he has evidence, he should front up with it. Otherwise people will be justified in concluding it was a case of Mallard in Fantasyland.

Why the Maiki Sherman-Lloyd Burr incident is a matter of public interest

 A good and respected friend – like me, a former newspaper editor – takes the view that the furore over TVNZ political editor Maiki Sherman’s alleged verbal abuse of Stuff press gallery journalist Lloyd Burr is not news; that at best, it would warrant a mention in a gossip column.

Fair enough, but I differ. If the high-profile journalists who provide the public with political news and comment are bitchy, entitled, childish, over-stimulated and perhaps inclined to run off at the mouth after a few drinks at the end of a long day, I think we deserve to know. That knowledge is potentially very helpful in judging how much notice we should take of them, or indeed whether we should take any notice of them at all.

You can be sure that if MPs behaved in the same scandalous way and the media learned about it, they’d be all over the story. Ah, people might say; MPs are different. They’re public figures, elected and accountable – which is true. But high-profile journalists like Sherman wield more power than many politicians, and certainly a whole lot more than your anonymous, run-of-the-mill list MP.

They effectively set the political agenda. They present themselves as people the public can trust and whose opinions we should respect. That being the case, any character flaws that become apparent – such as might be evident from the hurling of vicious personal insults over drinks in a senior minister’s office – become a matter of legitimate public interest; the more so when the alleged antagonist is employed by a taxpayer-funded broadcasting organisation and therefore has a special obligation to behave in a mature and responsible way.

It’s true that we may not yet know the full facts of the incident. It’s the nature of these things that the complete truth often emerges bit by bit over time. While it doesn’t seem to be in dispute that Sherman used the word alleged (to wit, “faggot”), it’s been reported that she was responding to a racial provocation. Either way, the incident presents an unflattering picture of the country’s supposed journalism elite and won’t do anything to lift public trust in the media from its woeful level. Again, that makes it a matter of public interest (and by that I don’t necessarily mean something the public is interested in, because for all I know the public isn’t, and probably regards the affair as akin to a school playground squabble).

Just to complicate things, some commentators are questioning blogger Ani O’Brien’s motives in breaking the story. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, I’m assuming they were honourable. I even sent her an email congratulating her for exposing what had happened while the mainstream media resolutely looked the other way. But O’Brien does run a political consultancy and it’s undeniable that politics has never been murkier than now, with political agendas and connections that are not always out in the open.  

Pushing the views that suit them

It’s verging on dishonesty for RNZ to describe political commentator Janet Wilson as a former National Party press secretary, as it did yesterday in an item about the reported unrest in the National caucus, as if her former status endows her opinion with special force or credibility.

For the record, Wilson described National as a “slow-slip political earthquake” and “a miasma of nothingness”. These were damning words. The unmistakeable implication was that if Wilson is dissing Christopher Luxon then the party must be in a truly dire predicament – because after all, isn’t she supposed to be on National’s side?

Wilson is often critical of National and appeals to the media for exactly that reason. The subliminal message is that the party has been abandoned even by its own supporters.

Stuff plays the same game, routinely introducing Wilson’s political columns by mentioning she has worked for National. It’s a useful, if slightly deceitful, way of trying to prove to readers that Stuff is politically even-handed, contrary to what its critics keep saying. (Stuff does the same with another political columnist, Ben Thomas, who was Chris Finlayson's press secretary so long ago that it's scarcely relevant.)

But the fact Wilson once worked for National tells you nothing about her political sympathies. She was just one of the many hired guns – sorry, I mean communications advisers – who ply their trade around the Beltway. She provided media training to John Key and was later employed on a relatively brief fixed-term contract as press secretary to the National leader (two, in fact – the hapless Todd Muller and then Judith Collins) during a chaotic period in 2020 when the party was in abject disarray.

Interestingly enough, her LinkedIn profile doesn’t mention that time. Perhaps she was burned by the experience and doesn’t want to remind anyone of it. Certainly she saw the Nats at their worst, which may explain why she so often seems hostile to the party and happy to undermine its leader.

This is not to say Wilson doesn’t have a valid perspective, but when all is said and done she’s just one opinionated commentator among many (in fact rather too many, you might say, considering the 28 comment pieces about Luxon’s leadership that political scientist Bryce Edwards included in his daily roundup this morning).

Moreover, like most commentators she’s fallible, as she proved when she rather rashly wrote National off after the 2020 election. Readers may recall the party made an emphatic comeback three years later. But Wilson remains a favoured commentator largely because her past association with National is seen as giving her opinions a special patina of authority.

The question is, would RNZ have been remotely interested in her view on National’s leadership imbroglio if she had said Luxon was secure and deserved to lead the party into this year’s election? Somehow I don’t think so.

(For the avoidance of doubt, I am not and never have been a supporter of National or Luxon and believe the party probably deserves whatever happens to it. I just wish the media weren’t so damned predictable in the unsubtle way they push opinions that suit them.)

Luxon still hasn’t got the hang of politics

“I’m not going to play that game,” Christopher Luxon said – rather lamely – when Tova O’Brien asked him how many Maori National MPs were in his cabinet.

“It’s not a game,” countered O’Brien, doubtless trying hard to conceal her glee at having so easily caught the prime minister out.

Oh, but it is a game. The game is called scalp-hunting and it’s commonly practised by journalists and broadcasters who mistakenly think their role is to make politicians squirm.

The funny thing is, no one can recall the game being played when Jacinda Ardern was PM. Ardern appeared to be surrounded by an invisible but impenetrable shield that protected her against awkward questions.

It wasn’t so much that such questions harmlessly bounced off her. They just weren’t asked. And if they were, as happened sometimes on Mike Hosking’s breakfast programme, her response was to stop going on his show.

O’Brien would have been thrilled at causing Luxon to stumble yesterday when he couldn’t answer her question. It was the equivalent of a bowler stumping the opposing team’s opening batsman with the first ball. You could almost see the thought bubble above her head: “Howzat!”

Luxon should have seen it coming. O’Brien has built her reputation on hatchet jobs and would have been eager to make an impact in her new role as presenter of TVNZ’s breakfast show. The hapless PM obliged by walking straight into her trap.

Then he compounded his mistake by saying that the newly promoted James Meager, who is of Ngai Tahu descent, is a cabinet member when he’s actually a minister outside cabinet. O’Brien pounced again and left Luxon looking like a possum in the headlights.

It was depressing evidence that even after four and a half years as leader of the National Party and two and a half as prime minister, Luxon still hasn’t got the hang of politics.

His rise to the top of the corporate ladder was no preparation for the shark tank he now swims in. He still exhibits two fatal frailties: he lacks a killer instinct and he’s far too keen to be liked. Those are dangerous political weaknesses that leave him vulnerable and make him an easy target for aggressive broadcasters and journalists, to say nothing of his political opponents.

Far from developing the agile - and sometimes necessarily forceful - verbal and mental responses essential in his position, he appears to rely on stilted, formulaic talking points supplied to him by his communications advisers. Not only do these not resonate with the public, but rigid adherence to them leaves him exposed and floundering when an unexpected question lands.

A more street-smart politician would have known how to deal with O’Brien’s mischievous query (and it was mischievous, since its clear purpose was not to enlighten viewers so much as to catch Luxon out).

Yes, it might be argued that Luxon should know how many Maori National MPs are in his cabinet. But his response should have been that the ethnicity of cabinet ministers is irrelevant. It's competence that matters.

He said he wasn’t going to play O’Brien’s game, but he did. Rather than feebly protesting at her question, he should have gone on the front foot and challenged her attempt to reduce cabinet appointments to a matter of identity politics. Luxon and his ministers need to constantly remind themselves that one of the reasons New Zealanders so emphatically rejected Labour at the last election was that they were desperate to be extricated from that ideological morass.

For all his faults (and God knows, there are plenty), Winston Peters wouldn’t have given O’Brien the satisfaction of claiming his scalp. That’s the difference between the two coalition party leaders, right there: Peters is a born politician whereas Luxon is still on trainer wheels.

The Last Post

That’s it then. The End. Finito.

That was my immediate reaction to the news that Stuff’s printing plant at Petone will shut down next year and printing operations will be relocated to Christchurch.

The paper most affected will be The Post, Stuff’s Wellington morning paper – known in a previous incarnation as The Dominion Post, a masthead whose name was itself an ungainly amalgam of its precursor titles The Dominion and The Evening Post.

The Post is on its knees already. It won’t survive this upheaval.

Printing the paper in Christchurch and then freighting it north by truck and ferry, as Stuff apparently proposes to do, will be a death blow to a paper whose heritage dates back to 1865. I was tempted to use the phrase "coup de grace" rather than death blow, but strictly speaking, a coup de grace is a swift and merciful end for a person or animal that is suffering. This will more likely be a cruelly slow and inevitable decline, and painful to watch for anyone who values newspapers.

The proposed move means The Post’s final editorial deadline would be pushed back to the early afternoon, at best. Nothing that happens after that time will be covered in its news columns. It will therefore abandon any claim to be a genuine morning newspaper, or even a newspaper at all. Whatever “news” it contains will be withered and stale by the time it reaches any remaining readers.

The Post will be forced to rely even more on soft, flabby content that isn’t time-critical. This means more long-winded and ultimately pointless opinion columns, more cheap filler material lifted from overseas sources and irrelevant to New Zealand, and more lifestyle-oriented fluff – such as articles about movies, television, the arts, gardening, interior design, food and fashion – that used to be the preserve of glossy (for which read women’s) magazines.

Already the Auckland-based New Zealand Herald consistently carries more – and sharper – Wellington news. Wellingtonians who want to be informed on what’s happening in their own city have to read a paper published 500 km away.

And The Post won’t be the only title affected by the move. Stuff’s other North Island dailies – the Taranaki Daily News, the Manawatu Standard and my own local, the Wairarapa Times-Age – will also be printed in Christchurch and trucked north, which means they too will be subjected to the uncertainties of Cook Strait weather, ferry breakdowns and the inevitable road delays caused by a New Zealand Transport Agency that seems blithely indifferent to the impact of its endless and needlessly disruptive roadworks.

Those newspapers will therefore lose even more of the vital sense of “localness” that makes them relevant to their communities. Already their newsrooms have been hollowed out to the point where coverage of local news is scant and superficial. With the shift to Christchurch, the factors of time and distance will mean the papers become still more remote from the readers they supposedly serve.

This is madness. Much as I feel for the journalists still employed on these papers, some of whom I know personally, it might be more merciful – and more realistic – to shut the papers down now and abandon the pretence that they will continue to mean something in their terminally enfeebled state.

How did Stuff arrive at this dismal juncture? The immediate cause is the acquisition by the wealthy property investor Troy Bowker of the land and building that houses Stuff’s Petone printing plant. Bowker is not favourably disposed to Stuff, I assume for ideological reasons (Stuff is left-wing, Bowker is decidedly not), and I sense that he derived some satisfaction from giving the company notice to clear out next year and take its printing press with it.

He would have known very well that this created an existential predicament for Stuff, notwithstanding Stuff owner Sinead Boucher’s insistence that the company was ready and prepared for it and will take it the massive disruption and expense in its stride. Bowker obviously doesn’t believe her and I’m not sure I do either.

But the real origins of Stuff’s decline lie much further back. It began with the creation in 1999 of Sam Morgan’s Trade Me, a bold use of digital technology that deprived newspapers of a vital revenue stream from classified advertising – those lucrative pages of small-type ads for jobs, cars, properties and second-hand goods. In Australia, classified ads were famously described as “rivers of gold” and the same was true here.

That was followed by a much wider migration of advertising from print to online. Display advertising – the industry term for big ads, often occupying a full page, placed by department stores, car manufacturers and big corporates such as banks and telecom providers – soon dried up too as advertisers realised they could target their ad spend more effectively online.

Simultaneously, newspaper publishers were panicked into a suicidal rush to place editorial content online at no charge to readers. The assumption was that advertisers would follow in due course, to the benefit of newspaper websites. They didn’t.

The result was that newspapers were left with the same cost structure (because good journalism, after all, costs money) accompanied by a catastrophic slump in advertising revenue and income from newspaper sales – because why would people pay for a paper when they could read the news free on their PCs and mobile devices, and hours before the paper came out?

It didn’t help that some key media leaders – Boucher was one, as was Paul Thompson, now chief executive of RNZ but then executive editor of Stuff’s precursor, Fairfax Media – had an almost evangelistic faith in the digital revolution. The old newspaper model was being deconstructed and it was assumed that a brilliant new one would replace it. We’re still waiting.

Another baneful development was the sale of Independent Newspapers Ltd’s chain of newspaper titles – the ones now owned by Stuff – to Sydney-based Fairfax in 2003. INL was controlled by Rupert Murdoch but it was run by New Zealanders with a fierce commitment to newspapers.

Fairfax showed no such commitment either to newspapers or New Zealand. When the print media business became just too tough, the Aussies fled back to Sydney. They showed just how much they valued their New Zealand titles when Nine Entertainment, which by then had merged with Fairfax, sold them to Boucher for a token sum of $1. (The Petone building wasn’t included in the deal, for reasons that escape me.) 

Boucher herself then showed how much she valued her papers by changing the company name to Stuff. A company that took newspapers seriously wouldn’t have demeaned them by giving the company a frivolous name originally created for the INL website by whiz-kids from the advertising agency Saatchi, no doubt over a few bottles of expensive wine.

There have been other missteps along the way. Stuff recklessly alienated previously loyal readers by abandoning traditional journalistic principles of objectivity in favour of an overtly left-wing line that permeated all its news coverage and editorial comment. This coincided with, and no doubt contributed to, declining levels of public trust in the media overall. Stuff’s breast-beating front-page apology to Maori in 2020 for decades of supposedly racist coverage was dishonest as well as disgracefully unfair to generations of journalists who didn’t have a racist bone in their bodies.

This was consistent with the ignorance and disregard Stuff has regularly displayed for its editorial heritage. In 2023 it announced that The Dominion Post would be renamed The Post, a bland and meaningless name that conveyed no sense of the paper’s notable history. In fact it was a conscious disowning of the paper’s past. “We are under no one’s dominion,” then-editor Caitlin Cherry pompously pronounced, in a spectacularly fatuous statement that reflected the paper’s ideological obsessions. Cherry’s time as editor was short-lived and the inane change of masthead is the only reminder that she was ever there. The pointlessness of the change is evident from the fact that three years later, people still refer to the paper by its old name.

So now the paper formerly known as the Dom Post, and before that as two competing titles, The Dominion and The Evening Post, is about to take another step on its slow march to oblivion. It saddens me because I love newspapers and want them to survive; but it angers me too because at so many points along the way, the company that owns the paper has needlessly hastened its demise. And society as a whole is all the poorer for losing what was once a crucial source of reliable information about events of significance.

I often pass the Stuff printing plant on my way to Wellington on the Wairarapa train. It still displays the name of The Dominion Post. I was in that building on the night the new, state-of-the-art German press was used for the first time in 1990, when I was editor of the Dominion. It was a time of optimism and faith in the future of print. Now the press is to be dismantled and the building, by the sound of it, will be converted into apartments.

Much of what has happened in the years since the first papers rolled off that press was unavoidable. It was inflicted on the industry by the advent of digital technology. But the effects of the digital revolution could have been mitigated with better editorial and managerial judgment. Newspapers don't need to die; well-managed titles are still thriving overseas. 

For now, the Petone building is a poignant reminder of a time when newspapers mattered in New Zealand and the print media thrived; when the local paper was a vital part of daily life. Once the printing press and the Dominion Post sign have gone, the memory of that time will gradually recede to the point where it will be erased altogether. And The Post itself, which is already only a ghostly echo of what it used to be, will fade away too. Moving to Christchurch won’t save it, and anyone who says it will is either in denial or dishonest.

Correction: An earlier version of this post said Sinead Boucher bought the Stuff papers from Fairfax Media. In fact the seller was Nine Entertainment, of which Fairfax had by then become a part.

A masterclass in damage control, and Labour's PR flunkies didn't have to lift a finger

It has been fascinating to observe the media’s treatment of allegations against Labour leader Chris Hipkins by his ex-wife.

The first thing to note was the uniformity of the coverage. It was as if the political editors of the mainstream news outlets hurriedly got their heads together when the news broke yesterday and decided on a common approach.

The stories were all brief and couched in “nothing to see here, folks” language. They all made the same points: that the claims were “unsubstantiated” and that no one was accusing Hipkins of doing anything unlawful.

All the reports focused on Hipkins’ denials of his former wife’s damning claims. But crucially, not one explained what the allegations were. So the public were left in the dark.

Labour’s media team couldn’t have asked for a more obliging response. It has been a masterclass in damage control, and for all we know the Labour PR apparatchiks didn’t have to do a thing.

The stories also emphasised that the private Facebook post by Hipkins’ ex-wife, Jade Paul, had since been taken down – the clear implication being that at the very least she had had second thoughts, or that her claims were defamatory or untrue.

She has now said, however, that she stands by her post, which appears to have been triggered by a Labour Party election policy statement that she regarded as hypocritical.

“So many women are hurt by high profile men who just do what they want with no consequences,” Paul wrote in a subsequent post.

“We get told all of the time that if we speak out then our lives will be ruined, our kids will be impacted. We get labelled as ‘crazy’ or defamatory when we tell the truth.

“Today I have had enough.”

So what are Jade Paul’s claims? Essentially, that Hipkins treated her cruelly – for example, leaving her to drive herself home in a bloodied hospital gown after she miscarried because he was too busy to visit her and bring her clothes, and refusing to help after their brief marriage ended when she couldn’t afford groceries, saying their two children were her responsibility in the weeks she had them.

If true, the allegations are a damaging reflection on Hipkins’ character. In a brief statement, he rejected them “entirely” and said he didn’t intend to make any further comment. The stories also reported that Hipkins was taking legal advice (subtext: “I am the wronged party here”).

Will that be enough to settle public questions about the man who wants to be our next prime minister? I don’t think so.

The tone of the media coverage was summed up by a headline on the RNZ website: “Chris Hipkins’ ex-wife makes series of unsubstantiated claims about him”. It accompanied a relatively brief story by RNZ’s deputy political editor Craig McCulloch*.

It was a very peculiar headline in which the key word was “unsubstantiated”. It’s a word I don’t think I’ve seen before in hundreds of stories reporting accusations against politicians.

It neatly shifted the focus from the claims themselves to the fact that they were “unsubstantiated”. This could have been read as meaning they had no basis in fact (which is in itself unsubstantiated), or at the very least that they lacked credibility.

But “claims” are, by their very nature, unsubstantiated, and the media are not in the habit of inserting this loaded word in stories about allegations relating to politicians. Was this a case of RNZ acting on over-cautious legal advice, or did it decide the claims couldn’t possibly be truthful, that Hipkins’ reputation had been unfairly tarnished and it was the media’s duty to protect him by shutting the story down?

Here’s another thing to consider: would RNZ, and the media at large, have been so deferential if the accused politician had been, say, David Seymour? Hmm.

The claims against Hipkins presented the media with a crucial test. Public trust in journalists, as measured by opinion polls, has never been lower. That low level of trust is at least partially attributable to the public perception that journalists overwhelmingly lean left and that they give politicians of the left a free pass.

This perception was cemented during Jacinda Ardern’s prime ministership, when Beehive press conferences were an exercise in sycophancy and voices of dissent against the government were marginalised, ignored and shunned as pariahs. Bizarrely, National in opposition was subjected to harsher scrutiny – some of it merciless – than the party that was in power.

The government has since changed, and with it the tone of political reportage. Journalists and broadcasters who were obsequious toward the former government are notable for having magically rediscovered their killer instincts. Government politicians and policies are subjected to a level of aggressive scrutiny that was markedly absent during the Ardern years.

The disclosures by Hipkins’ ex-wife gave the media a chance to redeem themselves – to restore public faith in the willingness of political journalists to apply the blowtorch to the left as well as the right. And they blew it.

They could have reported the nature of the claims against Hipkins while making it clear they were unsubstantiated. That’s how the media in previous times would have dealt with the story.

There is a crucial matter of public interest here, and I don’t mean mere idle curiosity about the private lives of party leaders.

The accusations against Hipkins go to the heart of his character. New Zealanders are entitled to know what sort of man is putting himself forward to lead the country.

The claims against him may be false or unfair, but in other comparable countries – Australia, Britain and the US – you can be sure they would have been all over the front page. The public would have been told what he was accused of, Hipkins would have been given ample opportunity to defend himself and in due course the court of public opinion would have reached a verdict.

But no, not in New Zealand. Here the media try to extinguish the story as a non-event and expect the public to accept soothing assurances by a leading female Labour MP, Barbara Edmonds, that “marriage break ups are hard”, the implication being that Jade Paul has lashed out in anger because she’s hurting.

The tone of Edmonds’ statement struck me as patronising. It also raised an interesting question about Labour Party feminists and their solidarity, or lack of it, with a woman who claims to have been badly treated. Perhaps loyalty to the party takes priority over all other considerations.

I don’t know whether Jade Paul’s claims are true, although to me they have the ring of truth. They don’t strike me as the sort of stories someone would make up. But the bottom line is that the public are entitled to know what she has alleged, and it’s the media’s duty to tell them.

*The original version of this post wrongly described Craig McCulloch as RNZ's political editor. 

Stuff's operating model: cheap and lazy

(Estimated reading time: 10 minutes)

Last Tuesday’s edition of my local paper, the Wairarapa Times-Age, devoted an entire page to an Associated Press (i.e. American) feature story about affluent middle-class professionals taking extended career breaks.

The people mentioned in the story are representatives of an elite US metropolitan class who can afford to put their careers on hold while they spend months enjoying a “reset” in exotic locations such as Egypt and Brazil. It’s hard to imagine a story less relevant to readers of a paper in a New Zealand provincial town where many people are struggling.

Stuff, which provides most of the content in the Times-Age, made a half-hearted and thoroughly unconvincing effort to dress up the article as something important by labelling it “The Global Read”. That it was published in the Times-Age was an insult; in fact a double insult. It was insulting to the paper’s readers first because it was a lazy way to fill space, and second because of its complete lack of empathy. People who worry about being unable to pay the grocery or electricity bill are hardly likely to relate to stories about privileged lifestyles that they could never dream of emulating.

The article lacked even the saving grace of being well written. In common with much American journalism produced by earnest university graduates, it was turgid and overlong. I couldn’t imagine a single Times-Age reader persevering to the end. Most would have given up after the first few sentences, the subject matter being only marginally more compelling than a doctoral thesis on nematodes.

For this, the small editorial staff of the Times-Age are blameless. The paper is owned by Stuff and much of its content is generic, being shared with other papers in the Stuff chain. Local (i.e. Wairarapa) input is generally restricted to three or four news pages at the front, plus letters to the editor, an occasional opinion column, some featherweight community-contributed content (the “Thought of the Day” is popular) and a bit of sport. The rest is centrally generated by Stuff and relies heavily on syndicated content from overseas providers such as the aforementioned Associated Press. The editor of the Times-Age has no control over it and his opinion of its merit is not known to me.

Stuff papers are – excuse the pun – stuffed full of content that’s shovelled into the pages with little concern for relevance and even less for attractive display. Turn the pages of any Stuff paper and you’re bound to be confronted by great slabs of dull grey type devoted to subjects of minimal interest, typically illustrated with lifeless, static pictures downloaded from an online image library. Filling the space seems the sole imperative, and Stuff’s editors appear to grab whatever happens to be available.

It’s cheap and it requires minimal effort; that seems to be Stuff’s operating model. Never mind what the readers might want. Who cares?

Let’s return to Tuesday’s Times-Age. Eager to read something interesting and relevant after the AP snorefest, readers would have turned the page to see a double-page spread, this time reproduced from Britain’s Sunday Times, about Ukraine creating underground classrooms where children can learn without the disruption caused by Russian missiles and drone attacks.

I didn’t have the patience to do a count but I would guess the story ran to at least 2000 words, which is far too much to ask of a provincial newspaper reader on a weekday morning. (Note that the original British version was published on a Sunday, when people have the luxury of time – and bear in mind that the Sunday Times is read by the leisured class.) And while the subject was interesting enough, the story could have easily been crunched down to a quarter of its length without losing any crucial information (hint: it’s called editing).

And so it continued. The following page was another grey slab – this time a wordy opinion column on aged care, accompanied by another file picture retrieved from an overseas image library. More laziness.

Further on, another two-page spread: a travel article about a remote location in Queensland. Travel pieces are a handy way of padding a newspaper with fluff. The writers are often prepared to accept a token payment because their principal reward is the free trip (or junket, in journalistic parlance).

The Wednesday paper wasn’t much better. This time, the full-page “Global Read” was about Singapore Airport’s introduction of a levy to pay for sustainable aviation fuel. Really? An entire page, in a paper serving provincial New Zealand? Couldn’t they find something a little more germane to readers’ lives and interests?

Oh, but hang on – there’s more. A few pages further on, there’s a full-page opinion piece – running, I’d guess, to about 1500 words – by a university lecturer from Leicester, England, about the potential harm done by social media. And opposite that, another full-page piece of similar length by another university academic, this time an Australian-based American writing about cyber crime.

Most readers of the Times-Age will have flicked over these pages with barely a pause because they offered nothing to lure them in. The vital principle that a successful newspaper reflects its community appears to have been forgotten or ignored.

Thursday’s paper brought yet another double-page spread, again from the purveyors of stodge at Associated Press, about an American man raising twin boys with autism. It was labelled with the tag line “In depth”, as if that magically made it something people in provincial New Zealand would want to read about. And on the following page, an opinion piece by a University of Auckland academic about slavery laws. Academics, like freelance travel writers, are a handy source of cheap copy because they’re keen to get published and in their case, the taxpayer picks up the tab because the writers are on the public payroll.

This is a rip-off worthy of the attention of Consumer magazine. People in the Wairarapa (and come to that, in Wellington and the Manawatu and the Waikato and Christchurch and Timaru and Nelson and Invercargill too, all of whom get served the same dross by their local Stuff papers) don’t buy their daily paper to read wordy articles by academic non-entities about subjects far removed from readers’ real-life interests and concerns.

Another “In depth” piece on Friday – from The Times of London – was a dispatch from Greenland about how Donald Trump is making the locals nervous. Again, a legitimate subject – but two pages? And further back in the paper, another two pages devoted to newly released movies that may never be screened in the Wairarapa.

People pay good money for their paper. They deserve better than to be presented with pretend newspapers that contain barely a skerrick of hard news. Every one of those esoteric non-stories occupied precious space that in a previous era would have been filled with content of genuine interest and value; information vital to the functioning of informed communities. Even as recently as 10 years ago, no self-respecting paper would have wasted space on them.

To use a biblical analogy, we’re being fed lots of chaff but precious little wheat. Even the few supposed news pages come up short. In seven years as a news editor on daily papers, I always held to the view that on a typical day there were probably about half a dozen stories of such national interest and importance that they had to be in the paper. They might be stories about politics, crime, business takeovers, fires and fatal car accidents or whatever. You could be confident that if you read a daily paper in any of the major cities or provincial centres, you’d be informed about them. And if you didn't see them, by definition you were not well informed.

That operating principle was abandoned years ago. News coverage is now a random, hit-and-miss affair. You might read about a major event or you might not. We literally don’t know what we’re missing. Vast areas of the country are black holes; we hear virtually nothing about them. (The demise of the New Zealand Press Association, which used to ensure that all news of significance from anywhere in the country was promptly distributed nationwide, is a separate tragedy of its own.)

The American journalist Walter Lippman once said that without the news media, we would live in an invisible society; we wouldn’t know anything. We haven’t quite reached that point, but we’re heading in that direction. We know less about ourselves than at any time since the emergence of the popular press in the 19th century.

In place of news, we now get bulky opinion pieces from Stuff journalists. Too often they take a partisan political or ideological line. The short, sharp, punchy news story, which previous generations of reporters could write in their sleep and once filled papers, is virtually extinct.

In the case of Stuff papers, there’s a disproportionate preponderance of content from the Press. The Christchurch paper has become the engine room of the Stuff chain, with the result that Stuff papers carry a lot of Christchurch news that’s of zero interest to readers elsewhere.

Obituaries? Don’t get me started. I frequently see full-page obits for Americans and Brits whom most Stuff readers will have never heard of. The deaths of notable New Zealanders, meanwhile, pass unnoticed.

I could go on. I haven’t mentioned the pages devoted to soft, lifestyle-oriented content that used to be the preserve of glossy magazines: articles about gardening, interior design, food, fashion and relationships. The Times-Age, like other Stuff papers, also devotes acres of space to movies and TV shows that most people will never watch. In the days when everyone viewed the same free-to-air television, stories about programmes and personalities made sense. Not so, however, when most TV content is streamed on subscription platforms and viewing patterns have become hopelessly fragmented.

A few of the Stuff journalists who edit all this generic copy (if editing is the appropriate word, given that much of it is lifted holus-bolus, headlines and all, from other sources) are old enough to remember when newspapers were full of stuff that mattered. I can’t imagine all of them are happy to be processing editorial content whose sole purpose is to fill space.

It seems hard to believe that with its resources, Stuff can’t present the readers of its papers with a more compelling editorial product. I’m therefore forced to the conclusion that the company is run by people who don’t care much about newspapers and may even regard them as a tiresome anachronism that they would rather be rid of. I get the impression print readers are deemed far less important than those who “consume content” – a hideous phrase – online (Stuff owner Sinead Boucher was an early convert to digital).

How have we come to this? That’s a long, sad story that can wait for another time. Suffice it to say that newspapers were hit by a digital technology revolution that fatally undermined their profitability, and their decline was hastened by owners who were panicked into doing the wrong things – such as making content available free online.

The strange thing, in view of all the foregoing, is that I still value the Times-Age enough to keep paying my subscription. Reading it with my first coffee of the day, although it takes far less time than it once did, is a morning ritual. But more than that, the local paper – even in its tragically feeble and eviscerated state – is still a valuable means of keeping communities connected. With a bit more care and commitment from their apparently indifferent owner, Stuff papers might yet avoid the inevitable fate that otherwise confronts them.

Will a new RNZ board stop the rot?

The Treasury has publicly advertised vacancies on the RNZ board for a new chair and two “governors” (I presume that means directors). The appointees will replace current chair Jim Mather and board members Jane Wrightson and Irene Gardiner, all of whom were installed during the term of the Ardern government. All three are well-connected Wellington insiders who were never going to upset the status quo by insisting RNZ fulfil its obligation to cater to a wider audience than the privileged “progressive” class – I use the inverted commas deliberately – from which the state broadcaster draws its core support. The question now is whether the government will appoint people willing and able to do the job the current board clearly had no interest in tackling.

The advertisement for candidates is notable for its use of the word “trust”. It mentions that RNZ “plays a vital role in fostering a strong national identity through trusted journalism, current affairs, and cultural programming”. Later, it says applicants should have an understanding of “media and public sector dynamics, public trust, and audience engagement”.

Trust has emerged as a crucial issue for media credibility. Judging by the wording of the ad, it seems to be assumed that RNZ enjoys wide public trust, but that’s not necessarily the case. While RNZ can claim to be the “most trusted” New Zealand news source, according to a 2025 survey conducted by the Auckland University of Technology, it’s merely the best of a bad lot. RNZ was given an average score of six out of 10, zero being not at all trustworthy and 10 being beyond reproach. So barely a pass mark.

RNZ itself published a piece by the authors of the AUT report noting that New Zealanders’ overall trust in the news had declined “precipitously” – from 58 per cent to 32 per cent over the past five years. Mather, who has chaired the RNZ board since 2018 (in other words, a period coinciding with that decline), acknowledged in RNZ’s annual report that trust in the media had been shaken globally and said it was incumbent on public media, in particular, to address this.

The AUT survey also revealed that despite generous taxpayer funding and the great marketing advantage of not being encumbered by crass, intrusive advertising, RNZ trails well behind its private-sector competitors in the news business. Last year it was the sixth most popular news source in New Zealand, lagging behind Stuff, TVNZ, the New Zealand Herald and even Facebook and YouTube. That indicates there’s a lot of ground to gain. Trust could (and should) be a vital factor in winning back all those New Zealanders who have turned sour on the media.

So what is RNZ doing to rebuild public confidence? Er, not a lot. It signalled last month, when it announced the appointment of John Campbell as co-host of its flagship news and current affairs programme Morning Report, that it was wilfully blind to mounting public concerns about political bias in the media and the tendency in recent years to blur the lines between news and opinion, of which Campbell is a master practitioner. RNZ either didn’t grasp or chose to ignore (either is inexcusable, but it was far more likely the latter) the reality that Campbell is a polarising figure who has done nothing to disguise his political leanings, and in particular his dislike for the government that his fellow New Zealanders chose to elect in 2023. 

Coming immediately before the start of an election year, when the quality and fairness of political journalism will be under intense scrutiny, his appointment should be seen as an act of provocation and defiance - not so much against the government (since journalists in a liberal democracy owe governments no loyalty), but more importantly against the many thousands of New Zealanders who, like me, were once RNZ devotees but gave up listening because they felt they could no longer rely on it to be fair, balanced and impartial. To that I might add … and also against the millions of New Zealanders whose taxes pay for RNZ but who never listen to it, and indeed may not even realise it exists, because for decades it has ignored them, preferring to position itself as a bastion of cultural privilege. (I will here insert my usual qualification to the effect that there are people at RNZ, including some journalists, whom I respect, and who I believe do their jobs conscientiously and professionally. This article is not about them.)

The New Year brought fresh evidence of RNZ’s disregard for basic principles of editorial balance and impartiality. A story broadcast on January 3 noted that there had been a 37 percent increase in the number of abortions – up from 12,948 to 17,785 – since the few remaining legal impediments were lifted in 2020.

This was presented as a benign, indeed positive, trend. The sole source quoted in RNZ’s story was Dr Simon Snook, whom the lobby group Voice for Life identifies as the man who set up the 0800 Dial-an-Abortion service and has spent years lobbying for an increase in the number of abortion facilities around the country.

Snook’s own company, Magma Healthcare, provides medical abortions through a service funded by Health New Zealand (i.e. the taxpayer). It’s hardly surprising, then, that he put the best possible spin on the surge in abortion numbers, saying it reflected "improved access to care" rather than an increase in demand.

Referring to the tendency for women to obtain medical (i.e. drug-induced) abortions rather than invasive surgical ones, Snook was reported as saying: “I think what we are seeing now is people who previously would have wanted an abortion and couldn’t get one for their own reasons are now getting it. We are getting the abortion numbers correct for the country’s need.”

To quote a celebrated line from Mandy Rice Davies of Profumo scandal fame, “He would say that, wouldn’t he?” Of course Snook is going to spruik an increase in the number of abortions as a good thing. No doubt he would argue that he’s approaching the issue from a position of sympathy for women, but there’s no getting around the fact that it's good for his business. That doesn’t rule him out as a legitimate source, but his credibility needs to be judged in terms of his vested interest in the lucrative abortion business.

A competent, fair-minded reporter would have recognised this and sought to balance the story with comment from someone with a different perspective on the abortion trend. Failing that, someone further up the editorial chain should have insisted on it.

After all, it’s not hard: Voice for Life, the country’s main anti-abortion lobby group, has been around for decades. It has a website with an email address for media inquiries. And it’s not as if VFL is some lunatic fringe group: it tells me it has 30 branches, more than 8000 newsletter subscribers and more than 14,000 followers on social media. (I’m not a member, although my views on abortion are reasonably well known.)

Here’s the thing. Setting aside personal views, abortion remains a highly contentious and divisive issue in New Zealand. Responsible editorial decision-makers would recognise that and realise that any story on the subject calls for balance. RNZ failed that elementary test. Small wonder that VFL described the RNZ story as “a shocking example of woefully biased pro-abortion propaganda, where one of the very people who should be held accountable by the media for the massive increase in abortions is effectively allowed to wave away the harm he has actively contributed to by claiming this increase in harm is a good thing”.

Of course VFL’s statement didn’t get published. Journalists now routinely ignore people whose opinions they disagree with. This became especially noticeable during the term of the Ardern government, when lobby groups dissenting from ideological orthodoxy valiantly kept pushing out media statements knowing they were doomed to languish unseen.

There’s a striking contrast here with previous generations of reporters who went out of their way to seek and report opinions and statements that they often heartily disagreed with. That the current generation doesn’t bother – in fact is often taught by journalism tutors that there’s no need for impartiality and balance – is a prime reason why trust in journalism has collapsed.

It needs to be stated repeatedly that RNZ, as a publicly funded news organisation, has a special obligation to be neutral and balanced; to publish stories that reflect the diversity of public opinion rather than those that conveniently correspond with its journalists’ own views. Mather's statement seemed to tacitly acknowledge that public media operate to different criteria from their private competitors.  Companies such as Stuff and NZME (publisher of the Herald) can make their own rules, as long as they’re willing to risk consequences such as loss of trust and declining readership. RNZ (and TVNZ, but let’s not go there) has no such latitude.

Will the new appointees to the RNZ board recognise all this and do something about it, or will they meekly accept advice from RNZ functionaries that editorial practices are an operational matter, therefore none of their concern, and sit uselessly and impotently on their hands? We shall see.

(Footnote: The original version of this article has been slightly tweaked to insert a new point and clarify an earlier one.)

RNZ's boss gives New Zealand the fingers

A few thoughts on the announcement that John Campbell will take over next year as co-host of RNZ’s Morning Report:

■ RNZ chief executive Paul Thompson had a choice. He could make a polarising appointment or a non-polarising one. He chose the former. In doing so, he gave the fingers to the large (and I suspect growing) number of New Zealanders who neither like Campbell nor trust him as an impartial journalist and commentator. Disregarding RNZ’s obligation to serve all New Zealanders, Thompson made an appointment that he must know will alienate people and almost certainly lead to a further loss of faith in RNZ. He didn't have to do it; there were alternatives.

■ Thompson is either tone-deaf or indifferent to public opinion. An alternative explanation is that he is a weak manager who has yielded to internal pressure to appoint someone the RNZ establishment will be comfortable with. Certainly Campbell will be seen as a compatible ideological fit with other leftist RNZ broadcasters. (I don’t know what Thompson’s personal political views are or whether he even has any, but they may have played no part in his decision.)

■ It’s not just Campbell’s politics that are polarising; it’s also his style as a broadcaster, which alternates between gushingly ingratiating and finger-waggingly pompous and condescending. He professes to be a man of the people and to speak for ordinary New Zealanders, but he’s not and he doesn’t. He proved that when he spectacularly spat the dummy in 2023 because his fellow New Zealanders elected a centre-right government.

■ According to Shayne Currie’s Media Insider column in the New Zealand Herald, RNZ says it’s confident that Campbell is committed to impartial journalism and “like all employees of RNZ, will be held to that high standard through our comprehensive editorial policy”. At best, this is meaningless PR flannel; at worst, it’s plain dishonest. If Campbell has demonstrated anything in recent years, it’s that he’s incapable of impartial journalism. He doesn’t even believe in impartial journalism.

■ Currie also reports that Campbell’s appointment was the subject of “robust discussion” by the RNZ board, but that the directors ultimately deferred to Thompson’s right as CEO to make the call. It’s not hard to surmise which board members are likely to have supported the appointment and which of them resisted it. Those in the former category are likely to be gone once their current terms expire, but by then the damage will have been done to RNZ’s already tarnished reputation.

Death Wish 2025

I did something last Sunday that I hadn’t done for probably a year or more. I listened to RNZ’s Mediawatch.

There was a time when I tuned in to the show every week. But as with so much RNZ content, I grew disenchanted to the point where I simply decided I was better off without it.

For a start, it has never been clear why we were supposed to regard Mediawatch presenter Colin Peacock, who has hosted the show since about 1890 (or so it sometimes seems; actually it was 2007), as an arbiter of journalism standards. He previously worked for the BBC, which would impress the impressionable at RNZ, but as far as I can tell he had precious little on-the-ground experience of journalism in New Zealand. (Then again, his predecessor, Russell Brown, whose background was in student radio and the punk music fanzine Rip It Up, had even less.)

I’ve had a bit to do with Peacock and I have no doubt he’s fundamentally a decent person, but several things about him irritate me: his air of omniscient certitude as he sits in judgment each week, his excruciatingly tedious and self-indulgent interviews about issues of interest to only a tiny handful of media insiders, and his conspicuous tendency to spare his employer the same holier-than-thou scrutiny he brings to bear on other media organisations. But what finally put me off altogether was Peacock’s habit of gratuitously sniping at NewstalkZB’s Mike Hosking.

I’m no fan of Hosking and don’t listen to him, but that’s neither here nor there. For Peacock to use his privileged, taxpayer-funded position as a platform for petulant attacks on a rival (and one who shows RNZ up by pulling a much bigger audience than the state broadcaster’s Morning Report) is an abuse of power for which he should have been pulled into line long ago by his boss, Paul Thompson. (It goes without saying that Peacock’s apparent obsession with Hosking is a backhanded compliment to the NewstalkZB host and unlikely to keep him awake at night.)

But that’s all by way of a preamble. Last Sunday’s episode of Mediawatch included a telling item on the recent annual conference of the Journalism Education Association of New Zealand (JEANZ), which represents academic teachers of journalism. Included in the proceedings was a panel discussion on “Journalism and the Far Right”, which examined the supposedly baneful influence of conservative media outlets and commentators “in New Zealand and beyond”.

Strangely enough, I don’t recall the nation’s journalism tutors ever voicing similar alarm about the influence of the far left, despite it being all-pervasive in the media for years. This is because they are the far left and regard their ideologically based concept of journalism as the norm – indeed, the only morally correct approach.

The conference session highlighted the extent to which journalistic paradigms have been upended. The model that prevailed for decades – that of balance and neutrality – has been trashed in favour of one that’s blatantly politicised and sees journalism as a moral crusade driven by left-wing fixations such as identity politics, hate speech (so called) and climate change.

Under this new model, objectivity is disdainfully dismissed as “that old shibboleth” (a phrase reportedly used earlier this year in a radio interview by Massey University journalism associate professor James Hollings, one of the conference organisers). Balance and impartiality, principles that characterised the mainstream media for decades, are now dismissed as tools that serve the interests of the right.

Journalists are instead encouraged to choose, on the basis of their own often narrow and rigid world views, which issues should be covered and which should be ignored. Similarly, they are entitled under the new paradigm to decide which groups and individuals should be allowed to contribute to public debate. The rest can be marginalised, demonised or excluded.

We saw this elitist, exclusionary approach to journalism in full, rampant cry during the term of the second Ardern-led government, slyly assisted by the shameful buy-off of the media under the innocuously named Public Interest Journalism Fund.

There are now occasional encouraging signs that the degradation of traditional journalism values may be abating, at least in some mainstream media outlets. There seems an increasing willingness, albeit a grudging one, to cover stories that were previously untouchable and to give space and airtime to voices and opinions that were formerly deemed beyond the Pale. The instinct for self-preservation may finally be kicking in as audience numbers and newspaper readership continue their precipitous decline and opinion surveys confirm a devastating loss of trust in media organisations.

Unfortunately none of this seems to have registered with the cloistered custodians of journalism training, who display a breathtaking lack of self-awareness. Death Wish 2025 would have been an appropriate alternative name for their recent gathering.

The lineup of participants in the JEANZ discussion tells you all you need to know about the ideological tone of the event. Speakers included another Massey associate professor, Sean Phelan, who first came to this blog’s attention for his impenetrable Marxist gibberish in 2009; Prof Mohan Dutta, also of Massey, who deserves some sort of celebrity status for the unhinged fanaticism of his writing (and who never responded to my invitation to debate with me in 2023); Nicky Hager (say no more); Stuff’s Paula Penfold, perhaps best remembered for her conspiracy-obsessed and deeply flawed 2022 propaganda documentary Fire and Fury; and political reporter Marc Daalder of Newsroom, who can unfailingly be relied on to promote “progressive” ideas and seek to discredit policies and politicians he disapproves of.

Where was the conservative voice on the panel? There was none; not even the fig leaf of a token one. In that respect the discussion accurately mirrored the mainstream media’s abandonment of its commitment to balance. In the warped perspective of the academic left, “conservative” now equates with “far right”. Perhaps someone should point out the inconvenient truth that New Zealanders in 2023 elected a centre-right government, as they have done in the majority of elections during the modern era.

It’s worth noting too that although this was a conference of journalism educators, at least two of the panellists (Phelan and Dutta) are not – and to my knowledge never have been – journalists, while Hager could more accurately be classified as a professional activist, given that he has never pretended to be balanced or impartial.

Not one of the participants conformed even remotely to most New Zealanders’ ideal of journalistic neutrality. Yet these are the people we’ve entrusted with the training of the next generation of journalists – in which case the question must be asked: is the damage now irreversible? Are we living in a post-journalism era?

Of course Mediawatch asked none of these questions, preferring to report the discussion without comment or analysis. Given Peacock’s usual predilection for interposing his own opinion, this could only be interpreted as a sign that he saw nothing to disagree with. No surprises there.

We heard brief audio clips from some of the participants. Phelan, who is Irish, sounded as if he was hyper-ventilating as he squawked about the urgent need to call out what he called the “far-right political project”. Dutta, who is Indian, was quoted as saying that the right-wing media was an ideological project with colonial roots (well, of course he would say that; pernicious colonialism is at the root of everything bad). Daalder, who is American, lamented that aspects of extremist news had made their way into “mainstream pulpits”. Ring the alarm bells!

All this is rich, given that what we’re now seeing in the alternative online media is simply a natural and inevitable backlash against the overwhelming preponderance of the far left. No one should be in the least surprised that media outlets such as the Platform, the Centrist and Reality Check Radio (none of which I follow, incidentally) sprang into life as a reaction against the silencing of conservative voices and the shutting down of legitimate dissent.

It should be pointed out that there was never any need for alternative platforms in the past, since the mainstream media functioned as a “broad church” that made room for all voices. People like the JEANZ educators gleefully danced on the grave of that admirable model and now have the gall to wail about the resulting polarisation and loss of public trust in the media.

On one level, it’s tempting to dismiss the over-excited participants at the JEANZ conference as players in a piece of absurdist theatre, acting out their paranoia far removed from the real world. Regrettably it’s not that simple. Academic courses remain the mandatory gateway to careers in the media, and as long as journalism training is controlled by extreme leftist zealots and charlatans (for charlatans is what some of them are, in my opinion), the media industry has no prospect of ever regaining the respect and trust it commanded in the past.

Media companies cannot escape culpability for this. In the distant past I served on an industry liaison committee that maintained oversight of the journalism course at what is now Massey University and took an active part in the appointment of tutors. If such consultative arrangements still exist, it’s a damning indictment of the industry that it has stood by and done nothing while journalism training was systemically hijacked and corrupted from within by academic white-anters.

 

 

 

What privilege looks like in 2025

Two weeks ago, in a blog post headlined What privilege sounds like in 2025, I made the case that the broadcasting organisation formerly known as Radio New Zealand is the embodiment of privilege. 

I argued that the dwindling number of New Zealanders who listen to the state radio station are in fact doubly privileged. Not only are they able to hear taxpayer-funded content that’s carefully curated so as not to offend their sensibilities or challenge their cosy assumptions, but they are spared the indignity of being bombarded with crass, intrusive advertising. That wretched fate is reserved for the proles who choose to tune into commercial radio (which, in this context, essentially means NewstalkZB).

I also noted that despite this disincentive, NewstalkZB’s audience keeps growing at the expense of RNZ. You’d think someone at the top of RNZ might have noticed this and started asking the obvious question – namely, why are listeners abandoning us? But even if they’re asking that question, the evidence suggests that they can’t bring themselves to answer it honestly.

As if to prove this, when my old colleague (and former broadcasting journalist) Barrie Saunders linked to my blog post on Facebook, RNZ board member Jane Wrightson sneeringly responded: “Oh good grief!” In doing so, she obligingly illustrated the problem.

I suspect that Wrightson, who has had a glittering career at the heart of the Wellington public service, inhabits an insular world that is largely deaf to critical outside scrutiny. They can’t see anything wrong, therefore there’s no problem. Wrightson apparently doesn’t pause to wonder why people like me no longer listen to RNZ.

For decades my radio was permanently tuned to the state broadcaster. I habitually listened to it at home and in the car. I should be RNZ’s target audience.

I miss some RNZ programmes and would gladly become a loyal listener again, because it still does some things well. I miss Jim Mora and I still sneakily listen to Phil O’Brien when no one’s around. But for me the entire organisation is fatally contaminated by the naked, systemic bias inherent in critical areas of its programming – most notably in its choice of presenters and in the way it deals with touchy political and ideological issues such as race, climate change and gender.

RNZ’s partisanship in favour of what are smugly and misleadingly labelled “progressive” values is evident not just in the issues it chooses to cover and how it deals with them, but just as critically in the issues it prefers to ignore and the people it refuses to engage with.

The parallels with the beleaguered BBC, currently grappling with the reverberations from a damning report exposing embedded biases on issues such as Gaza, crime and immigration, are obvious.

As a board member, Wrightson should be asking why RNZ has lost so many listeners like me (and you can be sure there are countless others. Not only do the audience figures bear that out, but I meet them all the time). But she prefers to dismiss criticism with an airy wave of the hand. “How tedious”, she seemed to be saying. It was what you might call a Marie Antoinette response.

But RNZ is hardly the only media organisation whose editorial priorities scream of privilege. If you want to know what privilege looks like in 2025, just read Stuff.

The Post’s Saturday magazine Your Weekend, in particular, wallows in privilege. I have no doubt that its editor and staff sincerely see themselves as champions of the marginalised. But this sits awkwardly with their choice of content, which invariably reflects the interests and preoccupations of a narrow demographic group consisting largely of affluent, young, educated, left-leaning, middle-class Pakeha women.

This highlights a besetting fault that pervades much of the New Zealand media. Editorial agendas are too often determined by journalists writing for and about people like themselves; people with the same interests, priorities, values and tastes. This is not a formula for success, since it ignores the rather substantial part of the community that doesn’t fit that profile.

Every time I look at Your Weekend (which I do quite often, because there are few things more satisfying than having one’s prejudices confirmed), I’m struck by the incongruity of editorial content that vacillates between earnestly woke on one hand and breathtakingly puerile, trite and self-indulgent on the other. YW appears unable to decide whether it’s a progressive socio-political pamphlet or an adolescent fanzine, slavishly pandering to elitist, designer-label consumerism.

A flick through a couple of recent editions reveals a preoccupation with actors, writers and artists (oh, and a burlesque queen last weekend and the weekend before that, a social media “influencer” and a food forager). In other words, a snapshot of an effete metropolitan café society that enjoys a lifestyle shared by a privileged few.

Nowhere is that privilege better encapsulated than in the sections devoted to subjects such as fashion, makeup and wine. Here you might see a pair of women’s shorts that costs $550, shoes priced at $595 and a handbag with a tag of $430. In the wine column I rarely see anything priced at less than $30, and often much more. I wonder, how many Your Weekend readers can afford the prohibitively expensive stuff the magazine promotes?

I accept that YW is targeted at a particular demographic group, but I would argue that it doesn’t even reflect the broad interests of that target market; merely a carefully selected subset of it.

A similar self-centred blindness to real-world interests and concerns seems to permeate the entire Stuff universe. Last Saturday’s Post, for example, included a wordy review of an esoteric Te Papa exhibition, a half-page by the same writer devoted to the woke podcaster Toby Manhire, another half-page about an obscure Australian musician (ah yes, obscure, but a close associate of Nick Cave, darling of the rock music cognoscenti - say no more), and an interview with the director of a Wellington food festival in which she listed all her favourite places in the city – mostly trendy bars and cafes, but with a sauna venue and a dance-fitness studio thrown in.

That last-mentioned item was a quintessential reflection of Wellington as it’s experienced by a well-paid, hedonistic, apartment-dwelling elite. I wait in vain for one of these regular “My Wellington” pieces to feature a checkout operator or a bus driver. Perhaps the Post assumes such people couldn’t possibly have anything interesting to say.

This type of non-journalism set a new bar earlier this year with a series of Post articles called “The Yummy Mummy”, in which a Stuff journalist who’s also a first-time mother visited various Wellington cafes with her baby to assess their suitability for “Mums and their pint-sized partners”. This was peak self-indulgence, speaking to a tiny minority of readers who share the Stuff editors’ strange ideas about what’s relevant, important and interesting.

As someone who recalls when the Post’s precursor papers, the Evening Post and the Dominion, were stuffed full of actual news stories – stories about court proceedings, council meetings, car accidents, crime, parliamentary debates, business and the economy, cats up trees – I naturally couldn’t help thinking how many such stories could have been accommodated in the hectares of space lavished on these overwritten and often pointless articles.

Of course it’s true that newsrooms have been hollowed out and that papers no longer have the resources to cover the stories they used to. Nonetheless we can draw our own conclusions from the fact Stuff chooses to squander its limited editorial resources pandering to a segment of the market that doesn’t reflect New Zealand society at large.

There’s a word for this: privilege.