The Herald’s readiness to alert its readers to the important conclusions of the University of Canterbury research into the links between China and past and present New Zealand politicians and their family members is to be commended, not because there is anything necessarily sinister about such links, but because we need to know about their extent and their possible significance.

At the very least, we might regard their number and extent as flashing a warning light.  Why is it that so many influential Kiwis, with entrees nto the heart of the political, economic and trading establishment, find themselves in such demand from Chinese interests?

There is no reason, of course, why China – a global power of growing diplomatic and economic significance – should not seek to extend its influence by any means legitimately available.  In assessing that legitimacy, however, we need to take account of factors that many might be inclined to overlook.

There are aspects of China’s relations with other countries, such as New Zealand, that may not easily be appreciated without a deeper understanding of the Chinese world view.  We may not, for instance, fully grasp that China’s objective in its economic relations is not merely to secure essential supplies (and dairy products these days fall into that category) but to become self-sufficient – to control and own the whole supply chain so that they are no longer dependent on trade deals that may have only a limited life.

So, when we see the Chinese interest in buying up dairy farms, and setting up dairy factories to produce finished goods, and sending those products exclusively to Chinese markets, is this merely the consequence of individual business decisions being made by independent Chinese companies?

Or is it, rather, part of a much wider and centrally driven (as befits a centrally planned economy) strategy?  Is it not realistic to see the whole process as the equivalent of physically integrating a chunk of New Zealand real estate and productive capacity into the Chinese economy?  Those farms – whose production is totally directed to the Chinese market and whose profits are with equal certainty destined for Chinese pockets – might as well be re-located, as I said a couple of years ago in the Herald, into Zhejiang province.

Whether or not we think this is a desirable development, we would be naïve not to recognise it.  And we would also be naïve not to see that, for almost all purposes, no distinction is to be drawn between the objectives and initiatives of Chinese business and businesses, and those of the Chinese government.

Chinese businesses understand very well that the only way they can operate successfully is through acting as the agents and as an arm of the Chinese government.  They will do deals with foreign interests only if they are in line with the government’s objectives, and the deals they make should always be judged in that light.

Add to that the – sadly – well-documented information about Chinese attitudes to business dealings.  There is little regard for ethical considerations or legal rules, a readiness to get around restrictions and regulations to protect the public interest, and  a willingness to buy what is seen as necessary by way of influence and the inside running.

New Zealand businesses and individuals, operating as they do in a country that regularly tops international ratings for business probity and honesty, and for the absence of sleaze and corruption, are ill-prepared to function in a different cultural climate.

The willingness of prominent New Zealanders to sign up with Chinese paymasters should accordingly be judged in the light of these factors.  They – and we – should ask what it is that they are selling that is worth the remuneration they receive.

Is it their special business or professional expertise?  Or is it rather their closeness to the seat of power, their knowledge of how and by whom decisions are reached, and their ability to influence the decision-makers?

New Zealand will surely do better in the long run if we retain some sense of our own identity and of precisely where our own interests lie.  Our early days as a colony are surely well behind us.  There is no future for us in returning to that status in relation to China or anyone else.

Bryan Gould

21 September 2017

Donald Trump has such an outsize personality and dominating manner that it comes as a surprise to realise how fragile he is.

The answer to what seems to be a paradox lies in a single word – ego.  Donald Trump is the embodiment of ego – he is ego made man.  Much of his behaviour – according to psychologists – is conditioned by his experience in his formative years of trying to match up to the expectations of a dominating father.  He seems to have spent much of his early adult life trying not only to impress his father but to insulate himself against his father’s potential disappointment and displeasure.

The consequence is that he built himself a sort of protective carapace – a self-obsessed assertion that he was, indeed, all that his father could have wished.  The maintenance of that ego seems to remain his principal obsession.

The problem with an ego, however, is that it is so easily pricked or punctured.  Even while it remains intact, it is a perilous guide to sensible behaviour, since it provides an often irrational imperative that is not immediately apparent to outside observers.

But it becomes truly dangerous as it deflates.  Donald Trump now shows all the signs of someone who no longer knows – or has confidence in – who he is.

Many objective observers could have foreseen – and did – the scenario that is now unfolding.  Here after all is someone who built a fortune and reputation as business tycoon and television personality, but whose experience equipped him not at all for the challenges of politics, diplomacy and government.

It was always on the cards that such a person would flounder – out of his depth and comfort zone – and that the ego that had hitherto sustained him would quickly become, as he trod water, not a lifebelt, but a dead weight.

What we have been witnessing is the disintegration of Donald Trump – not quite a Shakespearean tragedy, since his problem is more than just a fatal flaw, but is rather a total absence of the qualities and competencies that his role now requires of him.

The evidence that he has come to realise that he is simply not up to the job is pretty compelling.  The fact that he would rather be anywhere than in Washington and the White House, and that he cannot get away often enough and quickly enough, is one such pointer to the truth.

Another is the frequency with which he returns to the scene of earlier triumphs – to the campaign-style rallies – and to the themes – the “fake media” and the supposed crimes of Hilary Clinton – that served him well.

The problem is that Trump’s personality type is one that is least able to withstand a loss of self-confidence.  With the realisation that the job is beyond him, the Trump ego is punctured irretrievably.  The Trump personality collapses – the hissing sound is almost audible – without the ego to sustain it.

And the further problem is that this takes place under an almost unprecedented glare of publicity.  Each stage in this public decline does further damage to the Trump psyche and makes the next stage even more unavoidable.

The damage to the Trump ego is exacerbated by the fact that he has little by way of public affection and respect to draw on and to cushion the blow.  There is no shortage of observers – and voters – who will treat his decline as a proper judgment, not just on his inadequacy as President but also on his deficiencies as a person.

Even if we could summon up some sympathy for his plight, the primary task is to find a solution to the problem that someone of such manifest frailty has his finger on the nuclear trigger – a situation described as “pretty damn scary” by former US intelligence chief, James Clapper.  We cannot afford to run the risk that the US President might seek to re-establish his credentials as a hero by launching a nuclear war.

Trump himself may be so disturbed by what is happening that he is suffering a mental breakdown.  Don’t his colleagues owe it to him and to us to help him to find the way out?

Bryan Gould

25 August 2017

As storm clouds gathered over Europe in 1938, Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, went to Munich where he believed that he had obtained undertakings from Hitler to the effect that Germany would not launch further attacks on its neighbours.  He returned, brandishing the famous “scrap of paper” bearing Hitler’s signature, and proclaiming that there would be “peace in our time”.

Chamberlain argued that the Munich agreement justified his long-maintained opposition to rearmament; but, in a debate in September 1939, after Hitler had gone back on his word and invaded Poland, Chamberlain – reluctant to declare war on Germany – was opposed by many members of his own party and one Conservative MP, Leo Amery, called out to the deputy Labour leader as he rose to speak, “Speak for England!”

Chamberlain’s position was further weakened when, in 1940, the British suffered military disasters in the battles of Narvik as they tried to prevent the German invasion of Norway.   The House of Commons responded to the debacle by debating a motion of no confidence in Chamberlain and his government.

Again, Leo Amery made a telling contribution, quoting to Chamberlain Oliver Cromwell’s famous rebuke to the Long Parliament, “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!”

Chamberlain could not survive the defeat he suffered, as many of his own party either abstained or voted against him.  He was forced from office and was replaced by Winston Churchill – the rest, as they say, is history.

It is one of the great advantages of a Westminster-style constitution that a Prime Minister cannot remain in office if he loses the confidence of his colleagues in parliament.   He can, therefore, be removed at any time.  A decision to send him packing is an expression of the collective will of the House (and not just of a group of disaffected individuals) and will of course be reached only in the most extreme circumstances.

The American constitution offers no such possibility.  A President’s occupation of the White House does not depend on the support of Congress (though it becomes very difficult to operate effectively without it) – so, what is to be done if a President, for reasons of personality, principle, policy or incompetence, loses the confidence of his colleagues, including those in his own party?

The need to provide an answer to that question is now becoming especially pressing and must be occupying the minds of many in Washington and beyond.  President Trump’s problems – with Russian involvement in his election, with interfering with the processes of justice, with the nuclear war of words with North Korea, with his failure to condemn neo-Nazi White Supremacists – the list is growing longer day by day – now constitute an existential threat to his presidency.

The problem is that, unlike Chamberlain, Trump cannot be removed simply because his colleagues have lost confidence in him.  If that were enough, the condition would be easily met.  The evidence is now overwhelming that even his Republican friends in Congress and in the wider worlds of business and the maintenance of civil law and order are desperately concerned about where he is taking them – and the American people.

The USA’s leadership of the “free world” and its standing across the globe has been gravely compromised.  The moral leadership expected of a President at home is sadly lacking.  It is becoming increasingly clear that the US President lacks the personal, moral and intellectual competence and fortitude to discharge his responsibilities effectively.

But the US constitution provides only limited grounds for removing a President.  He must commit an impeachable offence or he must be found mentally or physical incompetent.  So, what to do?

The answer lies, whatever the limitations of the constitution, with the political intelligence and will of his Republican colleagues.  They might not be able to vote him out of office but they can at least make it clear to him that they see him as a liability (as he is surely becoming) and that he cannot expect to achieve anything in office except a reputation as a loser and as an obstacle to good government.

They may not be able to use, in other words, an opportunity offered by the constitution.  But the necessary words do not have to be uttered at the end of a parliamentary debate.  Leo Amery can be emulated by a powerful deputation of senior politicians who can pick their moment.  Uttered at the right moment and by the right people, the message will be just as clear – “In the name of God, go!”

Bryan Gould

17 August 2017

As storm clouds gathered over Europe in 1938, Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, went to Munich where he believed that he had obtained undertakings from Hitler to the effect that Germany would not launch further attacks on its neighbours.  He returned, brandishing the famous “scrap of paper” bearing Hitler’s signature, and proclaiming that there would be “peace in our time”.

Chamberlain argued that the Munich agreement justified his long-maintained opposition to rearmament; but, in a debate in September 1939, after Hitler had gone back on his word and invaded Poland, Chamberlain – reluctant to declare war on Germany – was opposed by many members of his own party and one Conservative MP, Leo Amery, called out to the deputy Labour leader as he rose to speak, “Speak for England!”

Chamberlain’s position was further weakened when, in 1940, the British suffered military disasters in the battles of Narvik as they tried to prevent the German invasion of Norway.   The House of Commons responded to the debacle by debating a motion of no confidence in Chamberlain and his government.

Again, Leo Amery made a telling contribution, quoting to Chamberlain Oliver Cromwell’s famous rebuke to the Long Parliament, “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!”

Chamberlain could not survive the defeat he suffered, as many of his own party either abstained or voted against him.  He was forced from office and was replaced by Winston Churchill – the rest, as they say, is history.

It is one of the great advantages of a Westminster-style constitution that a Prime Minister cannot remain in office if he loses the confidence of his colleagues in parliament.   He can, therefore, be removed at any time.  A decision to send him packing is an expression of the collective will of the House (and not just of a group of disaffected individuals) and will of course be reached only in the most extreme circumstances.

The American constitution offers no such possibility.  A President’s occupation of the White House does not depend on the support of Congress (though it becomes very difficult to operate effectively without it) – so, what is to be done if a President, for reasons of personality, principle, policy or incompetence, loses the confidence of his colleagues, including those in his own party?

The need to provide an answer to that question is now becoming especially pressing and must be occupying the minds of many in Washington and beyond.  President Trump’s problems – with Russian involvement in his election, with interfering with the processes of justice, with the nuclear war of words with North Korea, with his failure to condemn neo-Nazi White Supremacists – the list is growing longer day by day – now constitute an existential threat to his presidency.

The problem is that, unlike Chamberlain, Trump cannot be removed simply because his colleagues have lost confidence in him.  If that were enough, the condition would be easily met.  The evidence is now overwhelming that even his Republican friends in Congress and in the wider worlds of business and the maintenance of civil law and order are desperately concerned about where he is taking them – and the American people.

The USA’s leadership of the “free world” and its standing across the globe has been gravely compromised.  The moral leadership expected of a President at home is sadly lacking.  It is becoming increasingly clear that the US President lacks the personal, moral and intellectual competence and fortitude to discharge his responsibilities effectively.

But the US constitution provides only limited grounds for removing a President.  He must commit an impeachable offence or he must be found mentally or physical incompetent.  So, what to do?

The answer lies, whatever the limitations of the constitution, with the political intelligence and will of his Republican colleagues.  They might not be able to vote him out of office but they can at least make it clear to him that they see him as a liability (as he is surely becoming) and that he cannot expect to achieve anything in office except a reputation as a loser and as an obstacle to good government.

They may not be able to use, in other words, an opportunity offered by the constitution.  But the necessary words do not have to be uttered at the end of a parliamentary debate.  Leo Amery can be emulated by a powerful deputation of senior politicians who can pick their moment.  Uttered at the right moment and by the right people, the message will be just as clear – “In the name of God, go!”

Bryan Gould

17 August 2017

Donald Trump would not be the first political leader to try to build his popularity, or divert attention from his troubles at home, by seeking a diversion – usually by means of a military adventure of some sort – overseas.  In recent times, we can think of multiple examples – President Putin and Crimea, the Ukraine and Syria, for instance, or George W. Bush and Tony Blair in Iraq.

In Trump’s case, the need for such a diversion seems to be becoming more and more pressing.  If it is not rattling a nuclear sabre at North Korea one day, it is Venezuela – Venezuela! – being threatened with a military intervention the next.

Paradoxically, one might think, such behaviour is more likely in a democracy, where public opinion matters, than in a dictatorship.  It becomes especially predictable and probable if the democratic leader in question is single-mindedly obsessed with his popularity with the voters – or lack of it.

Again, Donald Trump’s exemplification of the syndrome offers little cause for comfort and compounds the dangers.  In Trump, we have a President (and supposed leader of the “free world”) who is unusually, not to say dangerously, narcissistic and living in a fantasy world, and who accordingly sees everything through the lens of his own self-interest and self-image, whether real or imagined.

As we get to see more and more of the American President, it becomes increasingly clear that every issue and every potential decision is assessed according to how he believes it will impact on his image with the voters.  And more than that – it is not enough for him to be approved; he has to be the biggest and best, the strongest and bravest, “ever”.

He seems obsessed with the military power at his disposal – and, at a time when his poll ratings have dipped disastrously, it is not surprising, given his personality, that he should see his readiness to threaten and use military power as providing a route back to the popularity he believes he enjoyed when he was elected with “the biggest majority ever”.

Again, the paradox is that Trump’s fascination with the possible use of his nuclear arsenal, which he hopes will show him to be a strong leader, is a sign of weakness rather than strength.  A leader obsessed with his poll ratings loses strength rather than gains it.  Trump is now in a position where he dare not disappoint any group (and particularly any group who supported him at election time), however disreputable their views; he has, in effect, become their prisoner.

We have seen an example just this week, where Trump avoided any direct criticism of the part played specifically by the Ku Klux Klan and their far-right allies in the civil disorder that broke out in Charlottesville.  Rather than condemn them, he preferred instead to lament –and even that was belated – the violence displayed “on many sides”.  It was a demonstration of weakness and a refusal to face the facts that earned him a contemptuous implied rebuke from his wife, but it was driven by his fear of losing support from a group of right-wing extremists that see him as “their man”.

Many commentators have expressed their concern that a man of such “disordered mind, unstable personality and stunning ignorance” (according to Peter Wehrner, a veteran of three Republican administrations) should have his finger on the nuclear trigger.  There will be many around the world who share that concern.

No one doubts that North Korea in particular poses a particularly difficult problem, not just to the United States but to the world as a whole, not least because Kim Jong-un and the North Korean military (who are the real power behind the throne) have institutionalised Trumpian attitudes in their own policies.  The North Korean problem needs to be handled with firmness and the combined pressure that can be applied by calm heads around the globe.  But the dangers North Korea represents can only be compounded many times over by the inflammatory language used by Donald Trump.

None of us can feel comfortable when the shots are being called by a leader who sees everything, including the risk of nuclear catastrophe, in terms of whether or not his own image and his prospects of re-election will be advanced or hindered.

And, as to Venezuela, one can only marvel that this small and disturbed country, struggling with its own internal issues, should have found itself apparently in the Trump firing line.  If Venezuela, who next?

There is nothing more dangerous than a weak man trying to appear strong – particularly when that weak man is looking for opportunities to demonstrate how strong he is and has been unwisely entrusted with the ability to start a nuclear war.

Bryan Gould

13 August 2017