Paul Goldsmith

Writing his own biography

People had warned me about Paul Goldsmith’s humour. I must confess I took their warnings with more than a pinch of salt. Goldsmith, the National Party’s newly minted finance spokesperson, had been making a name for himself launching blistering attacks on Shane Jones’ Provincial Growth Fund.

While his attacks on Jones gave plenty of opportunity to glimpse Goldsmith’s effectiveness as a prosecutor, it’s fair to say his sense of humour wasn’t always on display.

But Goldsmith really is funny, in a blisteringly dry sort of way. His session on the economy at the National Party conference drew peals of laughter from the audience. ‘‘The Government thinks we’re so rich we don’t need to look for oil and gas – Eugenie Sage thinks we’re so rich we don’t even need to look for gold!’’ he jokes.

There are jokes about politics, tax, and the economy. It’s not the sort of humour that’s likely to see him pack his bags for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, but it works in Parliament, where at least most people know the backstory of Sage nixing a goldmine’s Overseas Investment Office application in Waihi. So it appears Goldsmith is in the right place, but does he have the right job?

His elevation to the coveted finance portfolio raised eyebrows in Wellington. He’s possibly the most libertarian, or Right-wing, person to hold the shadow finance portfolio.

His book We Won You Lost, Eat That (the title is a reference to a quotation by former finance minister Sir Michael Cullen) talks wistfully of the Don Brash years. At one point he notes that Brash was ‘‘the first leader of a major political party in New Zealand in living memory to question the morality of progressive taxation and the behaviour it encouraged from political parties in a democracy where the link between voting rights and paying tax had long been severed’’.

In other words, he puts under the microscope the idea that people who earn more should pay more. If it sounds more like something ACT’S David Seymour would say, that’s because it is: in June he unveiled a flat tax policy, where everyone pays the same rate, no matter what they earn.

Later, Goldsmith writes mournfully that Brash resigned soon after his remarks on tax and ‘‘his party moved to a more centrist political line’’.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Goldsmith wasn’t actually a part of this party – and yet three years after the book’s publication, he assumed his seat in Parliament as a National Party list MP.

If he still has any qualms about the ‘‘centrist political line’’ he hides them well.

Like many of his fellow National MPS, he speaks wistfully of the Key years: ‘‘He was a great leader, and a remarkable guy.’ Goldsmith still marvels at Key’s ability to flit from meeting to meeting, and function to function, and still be able to put on a smile and banter with the public on an early morning flight the next day.

Allowing himself to be pulled into the centre during the Key years is hardly atypical for Goldsmith. He finds a way of marrying his politics with whatever job he may be doing at the time.

He has worked for the Waitangi Tribunal, and as a staffer in Helen Clark’s Labour government, and had stints writing biographies.

Though he became interested in politics at university, it was only after graduating that he had his political awakening. Like many other history graduates, he ended up at the Waitangi Tribunal, writing reports on historic Treaty claims. The pairing was unusual. The tribunal is known for its tendency to lean Left and Goldsmith was then, as he is now, a bit of a Tory.

He was soon outed.

While working at the tribunal, he was introduced to John Banks, then a National Party MP. Banks wanted to commission a biography, and was looking for the right historian. Goldsmith seemed the right kind of person.

He looks back on the period as his introduction to politics. He quite liked Banks’ ideas, and after just a year at the Waitangi Tribunal he jumped ship to join Banks’ office as a press secretary.

Moving from the Waitangi Tribunal to a National MP’S office was controversial. ‘‘It was a bit of a scandal going from there to John Banks’ office – Goldiegate they called it,’’ he says.

He liked the excitement of not knowing where his next meal was coming from. ‘‘I remember my wife and I buying our first house in ’96 right before the election, and then Banks got thrown out of Cabinet so I had to find somebody to take me on right away.’’

Fortunately for Goldsmith, Simon Upton, then the environment minister, did so. The next election, however, would prove difficult. National was replaced in 1999 by the Helen Clark-led Labour government. As with all changes of government, most Beehive staffers lost their jobs.

Goldsmith was one of the lucky few who stayed, working in Phil Goff’s office. He remained there for the first year of the fifth Labour government.

He wanted to be a diplomat, and thought the foreign minister’s office was probably the best place to be. But politics proved irresistible. Goldsmith left Goff’s office. He still keeps in touch with some of the people he worked with, but after leaving Goff’s office, his career took a decidedly political turn.

He wrote many more books. As well as one on John Banks, he wrote biographies of top Kiwi exporter William Gallagher, Alan Gibbs, Fletcher Building, the Myers brewing family, and Don Brash. There’s an obvious political leaning to his subjects, which Goldsmith acknowledges. ‘‘I’ve written about no union leaders, it’s true.’’

In fact, it was one of these biographies that lured him back into the political realm, although in relatively unceremonious fashion. In 2005, Goldsmith published his biography of Don Brash. While notionally independent at the behest of the book’s publisher, Penguin, the book was paid for by friends of Brash. Questions began to be raised about the book’s editorial line when Goldsmith appeared as a candidate on the National Party list.

Despite protestations of independence, leaked emails published by Nicky Hager after the election showed the book was not as independent as Brash and Goldsmith had indicated.

Goldsmith didn’t enter Parliament in 2005, or 2008, but was eventually selected as National’s candidate in the safe seat of Epsom in 2011. Only there was a catch. A deal with ACT meant the seat was safe for its candidate, rather than Goldsmith, who ran a campaign for the party vote.

Ironically, ACT’S Epsom candidate was Goldsmith’s old boss and biography subject John Banks. This was a controversial election for Epsom, being the election of the infamous teapot tapes, in which a mislaid microphone inadvertently taped Key and Banks talking.

ACT won the seat, but Goldsmith was high enough on the list to make it into Parliament. He swiftly rose through the ranks, becoming commerce minister after the 2014 election.

Goldsmith drew close to the current administration. He was known for his early morning runs with then-transport minister Simon Bridges. They used to make it from Parliament to Wellington Airport – a decent run by any measure.

Now, alongside deputy leader Paula Bennett, Goldsmith and Bridges are running the party, part of a tight team of operators that keep the electionwinning behemoth that is National on course.

Goldsmith still finds time for leisure. He has a black belt in taekwondo, which he practises when he can find the time. He’s learnt his politics well and knows not to respond to our photographer’s request to perform a taekwondo move outside Parliament for his photo.

But where his politics will stand closer to the election is an open question. Goldsmith’s views on the finance portfolio are quite literally an open book (you can find it at your local library, if you’re keen – although Goldsmith was slightly disappointed I hadn’t bought a copy), but that’s only half the story. The other half, the half we don’t yet know, is how Goldsmith marries these views with the prevailing political winds. We’ll only know the answer to that next year.

‘‘It was a bit of a scandal going from there [the Waitangi Tribunal] to John Banks’ office.’’