Where do Bill English’s religious beliefs leave voters?

After sixteen years of being ruled by agnostics, we now have a man of faith in the top job. Not that Bill himself sees his Catholicism as an issue.

For my sins - and some supper - on a Wednesday, I read the questions in a local pub quiz.

The other night one of those questions had a political theme. Teams were invited to name the New Zealand Prime Minister who was the 11th of 12 children.

By way of illustration, the audio visual clip which accompanied this query came from the last Monty Python film, The Meaning of Life.

Avuncular Python and latter day travel show host Michael Palin, dressed as a Dickensian coal miner, explaining to his brood of at least thirty strong, why they have to be sold off for medical experiments.

‘‘I’m a Roman Catholic’’, sings Palin, ‘‘and have been since before I was born...you don’t have to have a great brain...you’re a Catholic the moment Dad came...’’

Every Sperm is Sacred ,a brilliant piece of religious satire from 1983, gets better by the year.

Its relevance to our 39th Prime Minister, the son of Catholics whose commitment to the philosophy of perpetual breeding extended to an even dozen children, needed little explanation.

The fact that Bill English and his equally god-fearing spouse have limited their own off-spring to half that number is to be applauded as evidence of comparative enlightenment, if not rhythmical restraint. Maybe Bill and Mary’s children will only have three kids each.

It says something about the change in the New Zealand political landscape that our Prime Minister’s religion is up for ridicule.

After sixteen years of being ruled by agnostics, we now have a man of faith in the top job. Not that Bill himself sees his Catholicism as an issue.

Interviewed back in December, post ascension, English joked that the religion was ‘‘no guarantee of virtue or perfection’’ and that it ‘‘doesn’t define me’’.

In a 2006 interview he went further, arguing his beliefs were personal and ‘‘not relevant to the public’’.

Maybe the specifics of Mr English’s faith are a matter between him, his conscience and his father confessor.

But so far as they have a bearing on social policy around the issues of abortion and euthanasia though, they are very much a matter of wider concern.

On each of these issues, English is under attack from both the left and the right.

When the Abortion Advisory Committee recently called for an update of our abortion laws, arguing that in the 21st century the termination of pregnancy should not be considered a crime, per se, English dismissed their suggestions, bluntly stating that the existing legislation has ‘‘stood the test of time’’.

This opened the door for Labour leader Andrew Little and his eager-beaver new deputy.

Little and Jacinda Ardern made clear that a legal review would happen on their watch should Labour win the next election.

ACT leader David Seymour went further.

Calling the existing abortion law ‘‘archaic’’, Seymour criticised both National Party diffidence and what he called the ‘‘grandstanding’’ of Labour and the Greens, questioning their commitment to change given they have yet to sponsor any specific legislation.

Seymour points to an ACT bill designed to legalise euthanasia as evidence of his party’s willingness to take on controversial issues.

It certainly gives him a point of difference from his partner in government.

The antiquated notion that abortion and euthanasia are matters of so-called ‘‘conscience’’, a means by which the individual religious beliefs of otherwise party-whipped MPS can exert themselves via the back door, is unacceptable in a secular democracy.

Little’s record in this record is far from spotless.

When he first assumed the Labour leadership, it was priority for him to remove euthanasia from the party’s agenda.

The political cost of doing the right thing, of supporting a law change that around 75 per cent of New Zealanders agree with, was deemed too high. Better to let the views of a religious minority continue to hold sway.

English does have a point when he states that his own views on abortion and euthanasia are ‘‘pretty well known’’ and that ‘‘people will know where I stand on it and how I’ll vote on it’’.

Given that his faith is now a matter of public house banter, if he were an electorate MP, his electorate could make an informed decision.

However, English is not an electorate MP. Come election time, he is likely to be number one on National’s list. Where does that leave voters? If you wish to vote on these issues, do you assume that the policy of the Catholic Church is the policy of the National Party?