No place for destroying minister in NZ Toffees
THE daily roughandtumble of politics is not a natural fit for this column — there are plenty of other opinion pieces, analyses and blogs out there already dealing with that.
But I feel compelled to write something about the Clare Curran issue, specifically her treatment by some in Parliament and in the media.
Before I start, I need to make it clear that I, too, think Ms Curran has not been a good cabinet minister. She has made a hash of things, acting inappropriately on several occasions.
When you accept the big bucks of a ministerial salary, you have to be ready to deal with the intense pressure and huge responsibilities.
However, she also has my sympathies.
I am concerned about the purveyors of schadenfreude in this. There seems to have been far too much joy from some in bringing her down. It is a nasty side of human nature — more common in politics than in everyday life — and there are quite a few who should take stock and think about the way they have behaved.
When Ms Curran was questioned in Parliament last week about her use of Gmail for official purposes, it was obvious she was under immense stress and unable to think clearly.
Her incomplete answers were taken as a sign of evasiveness or of playing for extra time. But anyone with a modicum of compassion, empathy and humanity, or with experience in reading their fellow humans, might also have recognised them as a reflection of mental overload. Those pauses, stammers and repetitions have now been widely used to mock her further.
What I’m struggling to marry up here is that, on the one hand, we have a country agonising about rising levels of substance abuse, bullying, deteriorating mental health, shocking suicide statistics, and a general disaffection/ disconnection with life by many young people. We need to do something about that.
Yet, on the other, here we are, a people with a vicious, abhorrent edge, revelling in kicking someone when they are obviously down — the audience giving the thumbs down to the gladiator before the victim is killed for their satisfaction, the crowd excitedly awaiting the execution at dawn.
I am proud of being a journalist — 99% of the time. But just occasionally, I’m not at all proud. And any good journo knows that when you don’t hunt with the pack, when you exercise a bit of sensitivity and approach things in a softlysoftly manner, you will often get the better story.
As journalists, our job is to voraciously work to uncover what needs to be public but is not.
It is not our role to hammer away at someone until they crumble. It is not to destroy vulnerable people. You make your point and you move on.
There are two words I’d suggest might go a long way towards halting our slide into a mean, repugnant society. Compassion and empathy.
Yes, Ms Curran should not be in Cabinet. But anyone who ‘‘strategically’’ picked her out many months ago as a ‘‘soft’’ target to torment until she folded is an utter disgrace.
Call me naive. Call me thinskinned. Call me a hopeless romantic. But does politics really need to be so savage? Moving on . . .
I was very pleased to hear from Sharon TroyHeron, who found no less than 13 Harrogates in her bag of Mackintosh’s toffees.
So what actually is a Harrogate toffee?
One reader did a little digging.
‘‘According to The Northern Echo, a newspaper in northeast England, the flavour Harrogate was originally developed by confectioners in the spa town of Harrogate in Yorkshire to remove the pungent taste of the town’s spa waters.’’
Ahh, that gentle waft of hydrogen sulphide. Perhaps that smell is where the idea for eggandcream toffees came from, too?