Minister of Almost Everything

The Minister of Almost Everything

Unlike many politicians, David Parker does not have a very good memory. Before big meetings he scrawls down the names of everyone around the table, writing in a large circle so their seating positions are obvious. He can’t immediately list his five portfolios from memory. And he likes to have notes in front of him for media interviews – although he barely ends up using them.

Parker, a softly spoken, almost baby-faced 58-year-old, is the definition of a safe pair of hands. He speaks in careful, pause-laden sentences, often with a twinge of anxiety. As one of the handful of ministers with Cabinet experience, you can see why he’s been trusted with so much.

In the space of one Friday this month, Parker spoke to journalists from all over the world as trade minister, met with two Waikato businesses as economic development minister, made a speech and chaired a few meetings as environment minister, all while dealing with the fallout from a major announcement he had just made as the attorney-general.

He rejects the moniker ‘‘Minister of Everything’’. That’s the prime minister or finance minister. He just has a series of portfolios – trade, environment, economic development, and associate finance – that all interlock, alongside his more separate job as attorney-general.

You could hardly argue he isn’t earning his keep. Whenever the Government has a gordian knot – a problem with seemingly no good solution – it seems to chuck it to Parker to sort out.

A ban on foreigners buying homes that doesn’t break all of our trade deals? Sorted. A way to sign the Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP) deal despite marching against it while in Opposition? Managed with little controversy. Hosting the America’s Cup in New Zealand? Finalised – eventually – without too much taxpayer money or environmental damage. It’s no surprise he’s the minister tasked with sorting out one of the most complex and controversial issues in the months to come: water.

Parker’s wins often combine political acumen with a real understanding of the way businesses work.

Despite his affinity for Thomas Piketty and ‘‘egalitarian outcomes’’, Parker is a firm believer in Kiwis getting ahead under their own steam. After a stint at South Island law firm Anderson Lloyd early in his career, Parker went all in on starting up businesses. He ran a late-night coffee shop with his then-wife Sue Wootton, a poet, and bought a crumbling Dunedin theatre to restore.

But business ended up almost ruining him. ‘‘I went broke,’’ Parker says simply. ‘‘I overextended myself. I remember at one stage I was doing eight different GST returns at once. I had a lot of things that went wrong at the same time, and I ended up cleaned out.’’

This brush with real failure taught Parker to accept other people’s shortcomings, he says. It came after a youth of relative ease – school was easy enough, university was free and interesting, and he adored law. ‘‘It was the most difficult period of my life. It was humiliating. And people were actually kind to me.’’

He fell back on law to keep ‘‘the dogs at bay’’, and before long found far more success in the agri-tech finance world with Blis Technologies, where he could bring together his love of science and business. He soon joined Howard Paterson, then the richest man in the South Island, at A2 Milk, a company now worth $9 billion.

It was this business experience which drew in then-Labour president Mike Williams, who in 2001 was looking for Labour candidates with a business background to combat the image that the party was just for ‘‘trade unionists and teachers’’.

Parker had been involved with Labour in Dunedin since the Bolger government’s energy reforms in the 1990s got him annoyed enough to go along to a meeting.

The party seemed to be a perfect fit for Parker, who says the Vietnam War and Springbok Tour were huge shaping influences in his youth, as was the sense of obligation he felt from his statefunded education.

‘‘So many in my generation were often first to get tertiary education in their families. I’ve always been grateful to New Zealand for helping me do that.’’

Parker talks in a way that lets people write him off as boring. That’s probably why his leadership bid during Opposition didn’t work out, why he’s not the minister with a morning TV slot, or huge social media profile.

Every word feels carefully chosen, but not pre-planned. He can stick to his prepared lines when he needs to, but is clearly more comfortable tearing up ideas and putting them back together again. ‘‘He’s got a very good brain – he’s the Michael Cullen of that Government,’’ Williams says.

Parker’s position on trade is an interesting halfway house between businessman and technocratic leftie, perhaps befitting a man who cites The Guardian and The

Economist as his favourite periodicals.

He does buy into the economic theory of free trade – that countries should lower trade barriers as much as possible so each can make what it’s good at making and buy what it’s not.

But this is also the man who is banning foreign investment into existing homes, and wants all future trade agreements to focus on lifting environmental and employment outcomes. He says the anxieties that populists all over the world have about trade and the globalised economic system are often fair enough, and if we address them now we might be able to avoid major upheaval. ‘‘This breakdown of the public support for trade in a lot of countries is in my opinion born of things outside of trade, like multinational tax avoidance.

‘‘People see the tax avoidance, they see their kids are finding it harder to buy a house than they did, and they want their politicians to understand that.’’

He blames massive wealth concentration in the hands of the few as one of the roots of the problem. ‘‘It shows up in New Zealand in decreasing home ownership rates, in increasingly large farms, and the concentration of financial assets in a very small percentage of the population. That’s not healthy for the world, that offends my ideals.’’

Parker’s standing within Labour rose during its nine years out of office. He was finance spokesman for a time, and even interim leader. But his first marriage also dissolved. This is not something Parker talks about – or his current relationship with sculptor Barbara Ward. He’s much more comfortable in the weeds of environmental policy.

Yet these glimpses of an actual interesting life outside all the serious policy suggest he’s more serious than actually boring.

‘‘I love creativity. I love the arts,’’ he interjects near the end of the interview. ‘‘I love the creativity of new business, I love the creativity of ideas, I love the creativity of politics.’’

Most politicians would never admit to actually enjoying politics. For Parker, it’s just another complicated problem to solve.