Don’t write off this fumbling, deluded coalition just yet
For those who think these are odd MMP times and this is a strange three-headed, deluded and dysfunctional Government-gorilla, I say 1996 to you.
Think the first MMP Government: Tuku Morgan, $99 undies, Dirty Dog sunglasses, a ruthless Ma¯ ori/Tuku-bashing Labour opposition, and a coalition document so prescriptive that noone would ever agree to such a suffocating agreement like that again. Oh, and a man called Neil Kirton.
Any sign of a disagreement was slammed as a ‘‘coalition split’’. Everyone was young and restless.
In short, Winston Peters had spent six weeks telling the world National would never breathe again, only to hand them all threeyear life support GoldCards.
MMP was so misunderstood, even by Peters himself. He claimed he was forced to go with National because Labour didn’t have the numbers without using a third party, the Alliance.
Imagine it. The sheer terror and horror of a three-way coalition under MMP. No way, thought all of us. That can’t happen. Won’t happen. Right?
That truly would be, ummm, MMP in action; three parties with enough in common or enough hatred towards the other guy to sit in power. Three parties meeting the threshold of 61 seats to govern.
Labour, NZ First and the Greens might just be on to something, you know, despite looking every bit as comfortable as a learner driver reversing backwards and blindfolded up Auckland’s Southern Motorway, going directly into the traffic.
It’s a straight race to get to 61, and National still needs to understand that.
Bitterness and resentment is called opposition. The worst day in Government is still better than the most effective day in opposition. National may smile for the cameras, but it’s still crying itself to sleep most nights with memories fast fading of the last time an important person rang them.
So, National needs to take its head out of the backside of the dying first-past-the-post corpse and make friends, or get used to the current parliamentary real estate – which sees them about as powerful as Greg O’Connor’s case to be in Cabinet right now.
Remember Greg? A oncepowerful police mouthpiece? Greg’s mouthpiece was surgically removed this week and buried alongside his dignity. Greg, my number remains the same should you wish to call or text to complain.
Anyway, here’s the bit that matters. Incumbency matters. Power means you have a platform to launch from. And that brings me to this weekend.
Jacinda Ardern relaunches herself and her Government this weekend in a crucial speech that Beehive insiders say will surprise by the sheer size and scale of the event.
Here we go again, creating expectations. To me, underplay your hand, then overdeliver. They’ll learn. Maybe.
But truth is this Government has basically delivered everything it said it would. It’s been a touch more caring and those who needed more got it. But record numbers remain sleeping in cars and motels.
Transformational? No. Communities and people transform, Government sets the conditions. We ain’t there yet.
It’s been a messy, incoherent and rudderless 12 months. The winner has been the surplus National left behind. It has given Labour options. The loser has many names. Clare Curran, and all those average jocks posing as ministers, and those using the ‘‘c’’ word.
Peters prefers to describe criticism of this governing hybrid with a turn-of-the-century word, ‘‘balderdash’’ which is ultimately a pretentious gum movement meaning utter nonsense. The use of such a silly word should be a warning to voters to stay well clear, but you simply can’t save all the conspiracy theorists all the time.
If you wanted a trainer wheel Government, this is it. Yes, there are a few policy scraps and differences right now. That’s because there are three partners and the tail does wag the dog more often than it should. That’s called MMP in action. They’ll sort it. It’s the only option.
Ardern now has a chance to spin her success, draw a line under the first year and admit it was patchy at best, forgettable and poor at worst.
But memories fade, voters forget. Cue the music, Labour is partying like it’s 1999.
Except this time there’s no Helen, no leash, fewer rules and no curfew. And boy, doesn’t that show.