Rules matter in maintaining NZ’s political health
when I was elected as a city councillor back in the 1980s, I was young and thought I would try to loosen up the stuffy atmosphere that was common to meetings. My radical act was to call my fellow councillors by their first names. I was in my early 30s, they were, in the main, over 50.
My using first names went on for a few weeks before the mayor took me aside to suggest I stopped. He pointed out that the use of first names might be all right when everyone was getting along, but a bit of formality helped when the going got tough.
On reflection, I thought he made a good point. There were a lot of very strong personalities on that council, backed by a lot of intelligence. Disagreements were bound to arise. If everyone played by the rules — including addressing members as “Councillor”, the standard of dress, preparing thoroughly for meetings, and treating staff with respect — debates could be had without the danger of animosity becoming embedded. I noticed that, after the sometimes-heated meetings, councillors relaxed and went over what had been discussed, looking for areas of agreement.
I took what I learned during my time on council into Parliament. I was elected in 1990. Muldoon, Lange, Prebble, Moore, Bolger, Cullen, Clark, McKinnon — people with big names and big reputations dominated the House. These were the days when Parliament could go all night, day after day. It was a tough time to cut your teeth as a new Member of Parliament.
But during those early years and during my 18 years in Parliament, I never saw someone walk across the floor of the House to wave a booklet in the face of another MP while screaming at them from a few centimetres away.
In the general scheme of things, the behaviour of Julie Anne Genter, the Green MP who did the screaming, might seem trivial. Surely there are bigger issues to be concerned about than an MP losing control of themselves in a way that might intimidate others. Aren’t MPs supposed to be grown-ups who can take the “rough and tumble”?
But this is not the point. We live in a democracy where people with very strong opposing views meet to work out how the country will be run. It sounds a bit extreme, but politics has been likened to war without guns. Believe me, I have been present when this view has seemed accurate.
It is the rules that stop politics descending into war with guns.
Plenty of parliaments around the world have crossed that line. The one that stands out most at the moment is the United States, where it seems there many members of Congress who think the rules are for “losers and schmucks” (to use a favoured phrase of Donald Trump). Outright lies and constant personal attacks have reduced America’s moral authority in the world to zero.
It is not possible to tell other countries what to do when you cannot even agree that a violent attack on Congress is a bad thing.
Obviously, politics in New Zealand is nowhere near that of the US. But, as an interested observer, I have watched changes in the way Parliament operates with a quizzical eye. The standards of dress, the use of first names, the way the Speaker behaves and allows members to behave — it might seem that this is just Parliament loosening up.
Rules do need to change to fit the times and the attitudes of people who are in Parliament. But it is worth remembering a point that social science students learn in their first year at university.
All societies have what are called mores and folkways — simple, everyday guides to behaviour that might or might not be broken. In a sense, these everyday rules are there so that much more serious guides to behaviour — don’t intimidate others in your workplace, for example — are not broken.
In other words, I think it is a mistake for Parliament, the highest court in our country where it is a privilege to serve, to become a place that gives little thought to rules. They may sound stuffy, but rules keep behaviour within boundaries when the going gets tough.
I say this fully aware that the behaviour of MPs in previous Parliaments sometimes (often) plumbed the depths. I am also aware that Parliaments of old were stacked with characters substantially scarier than those present today. I also know that the way Parliament operated (like all-night sessions) meant MPs were often tired and angry when they came into the Chamber.
All of this is true. But the rules helped. I remember being afraid of Sir Robert Muldoon when first elected. His reputation preceded him. He exuded malevolence. But I knew, as I looked across the aisle, that no matter how antagonistic he got, there was not much he could do to me.
The rules saw to that.