PM English a study in understatement
Can incoming prime minister Bill English cut the mustard as he steps out of the engine room and onto the political bridge? Vernon Small looks into it.
The chief engineer is poised to take the wheel when Bill English is confirmed as National leader and prime minister sometime after 11am today.
The policy wonk – who once boasted about being boring – is about to become the salesman-in-chief less than a week after John Key dropped his bombshell that he was quitting.
He was considered the leader in waiting only if Key fell under a bus, and few rated his skills as a front person alongside those of the maestro Key, who English himself said delivered a masterclass in politics every day. It was others, such as his new deputy Paula Bennett, his strongest challenger Jonathan Coleman, or Simon Bridges, who were considered options longer term, and who were being groomed to take over perhaps in 2019 if Key stepped aside.
Many assumed English would be on his way into political retirement by then, having opted for a list slot that would avoid a by-election if he quit mid-term
Nobody expected Key to throw himself under the political bus.
But English must try now to defy recent New Zealand political history.
Success as a ‘‘retread’’ leader – as a ‘‘souffle that tried to rise twice’’ – is rare and he has the added baggage of having led National to barely 21 per cent support and its worst-ever loss in 2002.
Attempting to win an election after taking the prime ministership mid-term has also been a poisoned chalice.
Bill Rowling failed after Norm Kirk died, Jack Marshall following Keith Holyoake, Mike Moore after David Lange and Jenny Shipley after Jim Bolger.
English probably has a better chance than any of those, given the high party popularity he inherits from Key, but it is a big ask and at 54 – and as an MP for 26 years – he is hardly a fresh broom.
The spin from National is that the Catholic farmer’s son from rural Southland, who studied commerce and English literature and became a Treasury analyst is a different politician now – and faces a different political environment – than the one who crashed and burned at the head of a waning National in 2002.
This one is more polished, more rounded and under less stress.
Then he had six young children under 13, now they are that much older and more independent.
Political journalist who were around then can recall how he could really fly off the handle with some early morning occasionally expletive-laden calls – we assumed given impetus by his ambitious wife Mary – when he did not like the coverage in the morning news.
One I had was an icy angry voicemail: ‘‘Call me. I never said what you quoted me saying. You need to fix this.’’
A couple of re-reads, steel yourself and make the call. ‘‘I don’t agree I . . . ‘‘ only to be interrupted by calm English. ‘‘No it’s okay, I see it’s not a quote, just a paragraph of background, all good.’’
Some dubbed him ‘‘Angry English’’ or ‘‘Bitter Bill’’ at the time, but that English has not been in evidence for over a decade and he will be keen not to revive it – especially with ‘‘Angry Andy’’ a key line for National against Labour leader Andrew Little.
A major test of his tenure is likely to come sooner than later, when he will have to decide if he will move against his ally Hekia Parata – moving her on from the education portfolio before her retirement date – and his long-term friend Nick Smith.
Smith is the last remaining member of the four young turks in the ‘‘brat pack’’ from the early 1990s that included Roger Sowry and Tony Ryall who all went on to senior ministerial jobs. But the call for generational change from National’s back bench has put Smith in the crosshairs.
If Key was the smiling assassin - a nickname he earned in the corporate world - can English be the assassin with a laconic Southland grin?