Politics: brutal, petty, vain and alarmingly disconnected from the world most of us inhabit

It would be a gross overstatement to say we’ve seen politics at its worst over the past few weeks. Politics at its worst can involve assassinations, coups, repression, persecution, nepotism, violence and corruption, all of which we’ve been spared. But we’ve certainly seen politics at its most unlovely, at least in a liberal democracy: freighted with hubris, schadenfreude, vanity, infighting, score-settling, folly and self-pity.

If the drama surrounding the two changes of leadership in the National Party achieved nothing else, it at least served as a reminder of how unpleasant politics can seem to those outside it – and how damaging it can be to those seduced by its allure. We all know that politics is ultimately about the acquisition and exercise of power, but rarely do we see it displayed so nakedly.

First, there was hapless Todd Muller – an apparently decent man who allowed himself to be persuaded, or perhaps convinced himself, that destiny had chosen him to lead National out of the wasteland. He fell at the first hurdle, not so much because he failed the media’s confected front-bench diversity test as for his shambolic attempt, with comically inept assistance from Nikki Kaye, to justify himself to scalp-hunting political journalists.

You’d have thought that with all the media trainers available to them, Muller and Kaye would have anticipated the trap set for them and sorted out a response. That they didn’t marked them as ill-equipped to cope with a basic challenge facing every political leader – namely, dealing with an aggressive and querulous media that constantly probes for weaknesses.

It was basically downhill from there on. The media were never going to favour Muller – male, white, privileged, middle-aged and bland, if well-intentioned – with the honeymoon they gave (and are still giving) Jacinda Ardern.

Meanwhile, in the background, the deposed Paula Bennett was doing her strange disco-dancing thing with a comedian (a word which these days almost automatically calls for inverted commas) whom I would guess most New Zealanders – in other words, all those outside the political and social media bubble that some press gallery journalists apparently believe represents the real world – had never heard of.

Video of Bennett and Tom Sainsbury dancing to I Will Survive was repeatedly replayed on media platforms, no doubt to the puzzlement of many who watched it. We were told this was Bennett, the street-fighter from West Auckland, exacting her revenge on those who dumped her, but I suspect the point of the “hilarious” video (as the New Zealand Herald described it) was probably lost on anyone outside the incestuous and self-absorbed world occupied by press gallery journalists and political obsessives. In other words, it was a political in-joke. To coin a phrase, you had to be there.  

As it turned out, the sequence of events that eventually led to Muller standing down was triggered not by disaffected losers in the caucus power struggle, but by a rogue first-term MP who, in a clumsy attempt to defend himself after issuing an alarmist statement that sought to stoke fears about Asian immigrants spreading coronavirus, blindsided his leader by leaking the personal details of people who had tested positive for Covid-19.

Muller acted reasonably promptly in cutting Hamish Walker loose but by then the crisis had assumed almost unstoppable momentum, destabilising the party caucus and piling more pressure on a leader who was already clearly struggling to cope.

Walker thus becomes the second consecutive Clutha-Southland MP, after Todd Barclay, to march into political oblivion (and obloquy) after just one term in office. The irony is that as holders of the safest of all National electorates, Walker and Barclay, had they behaved themselves, could have looked forward to a job for life.

To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to lose one junior MP in a deep-blue seat may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness. Senior figures in National might do well to ask themselves what it is about the party’s selection process that results in the election of cocky young men (Barclay was elected at the age of 24, Walker at 32) with an apparent Masters of the Universe complex.  The name of Aaron “Do you know who I am?” Gilmore, who quit Parliament in disgrace in 2013 after bullying a Hanmer Springs waiter, also comes to mind.

But of course Walker’s was not the only head to roll as a result of the Covid-19 breach of privacy. Michelle Boag’s fall from grace, as the leaker who abused her position as acting CEO of Auckland Rescue Helicopter Trust, was far more spectacular.  

Boag has long been regarded as a political kingmaker, wielding influence behind the scenes (well, mostly behind the scenes) via a formidable network of political and business connections. Her strategy, as far as I can tell (and I stress that I speak with no inside knowledge), has been to make herself indispensable as an adviser to those in power and those who aspire to it. Go back as far as the Winebox inquiry of the 1990s, where she acted for merchant bankers Fay Richwhite, and you can see her fingerprints everywhere.

She has long struck me as one of those people who get an adrenalin buzz out of proximity to power. I suspect this can become something of an addiction, and Boag herself seemed to confirm as much with a remarkable mea culpa in which she admitted an “unhealthy” relationship with politics that had put her on a “self-destructive path”.

Power is the common factor here. We don’t need Lord Acton’s famous axiom to know that the desire to exercise power, or even simply be close to it, can erode values, warp judgment and compromise principles.

There have been other reminders lately of the seediness of politics. Judith Collins used her just-published memoir to settle an old score with John Key, but in doing so also revived memories of the opaque machinations surrounding her damaging association with the blogger Cameron Slater in 2014. 

And just to prove that politics can be equally unattractive on the Labour side, sacked minister and departing MP Clare Curran recently gave an exit interview to Spinoff journalist Donna Chisholm in which she oozed self-pity and, while purporting to nobly accept responsibility for her own failings, simultaneously sought to put the blame on the toxicity and bullying she claimed to have been subjected to.

All of this adds up to a deeply unflattering picture of politics and the politicians who supposedly represent and serve us. It looks petty, vain, self-centred and alarmingly disconnected from the world most of us inhabit.

Muller’s departure in particular raises a worrying question: if politics is this brutal and damaging (Audrey Young of the Herald reported today that Muller had experienced a breakdown), who in their right mind would put their hand up for election? Do we really want a political environment so toxic that only sociopaths and egomaniacs will be prepared to stand for office?

Unfortunately, the news media must accept some responsibility for this state of affairs. Coverage of politics has become a blood sport in which aggressive pack leaders such as Newshub’s Tova O’Brien constantly crank up the heat and the pressure on political players. To use a phrase made famous by the British Conservative prime minister Stanley Baldwin, the media exercise power without responsibility. They may claim to be acting on our behalf but their central purpose is to produce drama for the six o’clock bulletin. The blood they leave on the floor is someone else’s problem.

 

Muller could take a lesson from BoJo

A bit of free media advice to Todd Muller and Nikki Kaye (and I’d happily offer the same advice to Labour politicians): don’t allow yourself to be manipulated into playing the media’s game.

There are journalists in the parliamentary press gallery (and I’m sorry, but the name Tova O’Brien springs to mind again) whose modus operandi is to probe constantly for any sign of weakness, conflict or contradiction, and to pounce triumphantly when they uncover anything that looks remotely capable of being blown into a scandal. They then sanctimoniously editorialise about it to an audience that often can’t see what the fuss is about and probably couldn’t care less.

Their mission is to make mischief. Paddy Gower was another master of this game. As I wrote in a profile of Paddy years ago for The Listener (remember The Listener?), political journalism in the 21^st century has become essentially a form of sport.

Exposing hypocrisy, inconsistency and double standards is a legitimate function of journalism, but something’s out of kilter when catching politicians out begins to look like its raison d’etre.

O’Brien – and possibly other reporters too, although I got the impression she was the principal provocateur – sprang a trap for the new National leadership team and they obligingly walked straight into it.

If they deserve ridicule for anything, it’s not that Muller failed to include a Maori in his shadow cabinet; that’s just another confected outrage stirred up to produce a lead item for the 6 o’clock news bulletin, like the MAGA cap.  No, the reason they should feel embarrassed – and why questions should be asked about their judgment – is that Muller and Kaye (and even more astonishingly, their media advisers) apparently failed to see this coming. Did it not occur to them that in an era obsessed with identify politics and minority grievances, someone would demand to know why they had an all-white front row?

As an aside, Muller could have easily avoided this by promoting one of the party’s capable Maori MPs to the front bench; perhaps Shane Reti, who seems an impressive performer. It needn’t have been seen as tokenism, since Labour appears unembarrassed by having Kelvin Davis as its deputy leader – a status presumably acquired on the basis of his Maori roots rather than through ability and achievement.

By this morning, Muller seemed to have regained his equilibrium and was saying what he should have said yesterday: namely, that he chose his front-bench line-up on the basis of ability and merit, and with a focus on broad issues. End of story. Voters can show at the ballot box whether they agree with his choices; isn’t that how democracy is supposed to work?  

Advancing transparently absurd pleas in mitigation – such as citing Paula Bennett at No 13 in the rankings, and even more comically identifying the palpably Pakeha Paul Goldsmith as Ngati Porou – was playing the media’s game. It looked desperate and pathetic – but worse, it looked weak.

Muller should have taken a lesson from Boris Johnson, another conservative politician with his feet to the fire, and stood his ground. The public would have respected him more for it. He should at least give the impression of having faith in his own judgment even when he doesn’t.

Two more reasons why the public have lost faith in the news media

We live in the age of the media sideshow. In Britain, the press is in a state of uproar because Boris Johnson’s closest adviser, Dominic Cummings, broke the lockdown rules to drive 400 kilometres to his parents’ home, apparently so that extended family could care for his four-year-old son.

It doesn’t look good, especially when his wife was showing coronavirus symptoms and Cummings, according to Johnson, was worried that he would contract the virus himself. There were surely other ways of making sure their son was looked after.

But it’s worth noting that the story was broken by The Daily Mirror and The Guardian, two papers aligned with the left. The British left loathe Johnson, deeply resent his popularity, and will use any means they can to damage him.

Cummings makes it easier for them because he’s personally unpopular and appears to revel in his image as a master of the dark political arts. He’s also resented within the Conservative Party because of his perceived influence over the prime minister, which probably explains why some Tory MPs are demanding his head on a platter.

Yes, this is an issue for Johnson, and he’s characteristically tackling it head-on. It’s refreshing to see a political leader standing his ground rather than meekly capitulating to sanctimonious left-wing media bullies, as so many gutless centre-right politicians do.

Does Cummings deserve to be defended? I couldn’t say. But what’s clear is that a frenzied media beat-up has blown the issue out of all proportion. That was apparent from Corin Dann’s interview on Morning Report this morning with an over-excited Vincent McAviney, one of Radio NZ’s British correspondents.

McAviney signalled his bias when he made a snide remark suggesting that because Johnson has had multiple children with various partners, he’s in no position to talk about fatherly instincts. Really? Johnson has spread his seed around, so he’s a hypocrite for sympathising with Cummings’ desire to protect his son? Is that a gigantic non-sequitur, or what?

Warming to his theme, McAviney proceeded to paint Cummings as some sort of sinister Rasputin-type figure exercising “huge” control in Downing Street – more than anyone before him, he reckoned. Perhaps McAviney is too young to remember the egregious Alastair Campbell, Tony Blair’s all-powerful communications supremo, whose toxic behaviour supposedly inspired the character of Malcolm Tucker in the BBC political satire The Thick of It.

But the British journo well and truly blew any chance of being taken seriously - you could say he jumped the shark - when he cited angry tweets by J K Rowling and - get this - a former winner of The Great British Bake Off as conclusive proof of public outrage. The case rests, m'Lud. 

I wonder, do people like McAviney realise how absurd they sound? And does RNZ expect us to regard him in future as a sober and reliable observer of British politics?

Meanwhile, an equally ludicrous sideshow was playing out right here in New Zealand over the supposedly scandalous MAGA cap that someone spotted on a shelf in the office of new National leader Todd Muller.

In a comically hysterical piece in the New Zealand Herald, Damien Venuto argued that this was no innocent political souvenir brought home (along with a Hillary Clinton badge) by someone with a harmless interest in American politics.  No, it was apparently prima facie evidence of sympathy for white male supremacists.

Even the redoubtable, hard-core leftie Martyn Bradbury drew the line at this, pointing out that Venuto’s column was exactly the type of over-reaction that free-speech advocates seize on as proof of the left’s intolerance of differing views.

He’s right, but for me the greater tragedy is that woke journalists like Venuto – McAviney too, for that matter – are the reason the New Zealand public have almost completely lost faith in the media.

That media feeding frenzy: what's the point, exactly?

Coverage of the National Party leadership contest has taken up acres of newsprint and hours of airtime. Political scientist Bryce Edwards’ daily online compendium of political news and comment this morning listed 48 items about the challenge to Simon Bridges; yesterday there were 39, and that excludes much of the content on TV and radio. Yet most of it is utterly pointless, because by this afternoon we’ll know the outcome and all the feverish analysis, speculation and comment will be redundant.

Of course the public has an interest in knowing the majority party in Parliament has been destabilised by a leadership crisis. It’s also entitled to know more about the leadership challenger, who was a political Mr Nobody – at least in the eyes of the public – until a few days ago. But beyond that, much of the coverage has served only to fill space and excite political tragics.

All those opinion pieces in print and online, all those radio interviews with political commentators (some with their own undeclared interests), all those ambushes of National MPs by over-stimulated TV reporters demanding to be told who they’re going to back (while knowing there’s virtually zero chance of getting an honest reply) … it’s all as evanescent as a puff of smoke.

It’s hard to see what pressing public interest is served here. There’s little evidence that the public shares the media’s excitement, since the public – if they’re interested at all – realise all questions will be answered later today. There’s even less evidence to suggest the media feeding frenzy will influence the outcome of the caucus vote. So what’s the point?

The answer, of course, is that it feeds the commentariat’s need for drama and excitement. The Covid-19 pandemic, which has generated headlines almost non-stop since February, is tapering off and something needed to be found to fill the void. The Reid and Colmar opinion polls that showed Simon Bridges and National tanking came along at just the right moment.

Oh, and here’s another thing. Morning Report today had seven items on the National leadership crisis, including interviews with commentators Matthew Hooton and Ben Thomas. Later, someone emailed the programme objecting to Hooton being presented as an impartial political commentator, which he’s not. But who the hell is? Virtually all the “commentators” regularly trotted out by the media, from Hooton on the right to Chris Trotter on the left, are contaminated by their political leanings and connections. Some are actively involved in politics up to their armpits. They may all contribute their own particular insights, but few can claim to be pure and detached. Who knows what private agendas they might be running, or whose interests they might be covertly promoting?

Arguably the least dangerous are those whose political affiliations are well known, such as the two already mentioned. More worrying by far are those whose loyalties and agendas are not disclosed, yet who are presented as objective observers. I suspect this group may include some political journalists, whose relationships with the politicians they report on – and on whom they depend for information – are by their very nature opaque. I’m reminded of my late colleague Frank Haden’s useful dictum: doubt everyone with gusto.