The Curia poll that has been trumpeted as a big step forward for the National party should be given closer scrutiny than the headlines allow.

The novelty factor will always mean a boost for a new party leader – Judith Collins received a similar boost when she became leader. And the rise in the potential National vote has come at the expense of Act, with the result that the left/right balance has seen an increase in the advantage enjoyed by the centre/left parties.

Perhaps the greatest significance of the poll is that support for the Prime Minister is increasing – and that suggests that the public are now seeing the pandemic wood rather than the trees. Despite the constant publicity accorded by the media to those who see themselves as disadvantaged in some way or another by some aspect of the pandemic, New Zealanders seem to be recognising that the bigger picture reveals just how well we as a country (under our current leadership) have fared by comparison with the dire straits so many other countries have found themselves in.

The U.S., Australia, the U.K., and virtually the whole of Europe are struggling with case numbers, deaths, economic damage and social unrest whose like we can only imagine here in Godzone. Kiwi good sense tells us that, despite the constant stream of nit-picking criticism, we are facing up to and dealing with an unprecedented crisis in remarkably good shape. We can expect the polls to continue to reflect that level of good sense.

It should have come as no surprise that President Joe Biden recently hosted an online gathering of world leaders to consider the present state of democracy worldwide; our own Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, made a significant contribution to the discussion, proclaiming that democracy was an essential element in New Zealand’s identity.

President Biden’s initiative came at a time when it cannot be denied that democracy across the globe is under threat – a threat that is most obvious, not just in those countries where it has never really existed, but also where it has been long established.

It was Winston Churchill who said “democracy is the worst form of government – except for all the others that have been tried.” Like so many of Churchill’s aphorisms, it encapsulates an important truth; democracy is not, and cannot be, perfect, but – with all its failings and imperfections – it still offers us the best option available. The most persuasive witnesses to that truth are those who are denied democracy.

But why did President Biden choose this moment to ask his question? What did he see that gave him grounds for concern?

The most obvious answer to that question is that his own country is arguably the leading example of one whose democracy has suffered, and continues to suffer, a significant challenge to both its efficacy and legitimacy. President Donald Trump’s term of office witnessed many instances of the undemocratic exercise of power, culminating in what (as has now become obvious) was a serious attempt to negate the outcome of a democratic election and to retain power by means of a coup.

The worrying aspect of this sad episode is not the monomania of an elected President but the emergence of a large body of American voters who saw and continue to see nothing wrong in his attempt to subvert the constitution and to defy the popular will.

Even more worrying is the readiness of voters in other democratic countries (including New Zealand) to be similarly cavalier in their disregard of democratic norms. The origins of this malaise can be readily located in Trump’s America, but its manifestations in other countries – while owing much to the American model – are undoubtedly home-grown.

The worldwide growth in undemocratic and anti-democratic sentiment is characterised by a number of shared features. There is a sense of outrage that power can be exercised by those with whom the objectors disagree; there is an emphasis on the rights (some say “sovereignty”) of the individual and a distrust of public “authority”, whatever form it takes; there is a denial (echoing Margaret Thatcher), that “there is any such thing as society”; there is a claim to the priority of one’s own rights over those of others, and a hostility to those whose views, values, characteristics allow them to be identified as “different”; there is the appropriation of terms like “libertarian” so that what would otherwise be seen as anti-minority prejudice can be cast in a more favourable light; at its simplest, it is merely a power grab by one group which feels itself to have been wrongly disempowered by another body of opinion.

It is relatively easy to characterise these attitudes as “right-wing” (and, in their most extreme form, as “fascist); the justification for doing so is that they are marked by an attachment to traditional right-wing values like authority, discipline, order, “knowing one’s place” and status, all enhanced by the typically fascist sense of victimisation and loss of power.

What President Biden was presumably trying to do was to alert other democratic leaders to the challenges that democracy now faces, even in countries where democracy has been well and long established. He was right to do so.

My heart went out to Christopher Luxon yesterday when he had to put his first question to the Prime Minister.

I had faced a similar challenge on many occasions during my own time in parliament, though in my case I put my questions from the back benches and the Prime Minister to be questioned was Margaret Thatcher.

My recollection of those occasions is that they did not cause me any particular difficulty – indeed, on one occasion (one that lives on in my own memory, though perhaps not in others’) I caused her some difficulty by asking about the outcome of a meeting she had just had with other EU leaders and she somewhat fluffed her reply – the meeting had not gone well. The fluff was greeted with jeers and cheers from our side.

Christopher Luxon, of course, had all the added pressure of asking his first question as the new Leader of the Opposition. He had had plenty of time to prepare for it, but he doesn’t seem to have used it to any effect.

He had presumably thought about the question he might ask, but when it came to the moment, he seems not to have known what it was and couldn’t remember it either – nor could he read it when he looked for the piece of paper on which he had written it down.

All in all, then, not his finest moment, and a harsh reminder of how much pressure there can be in politics, and in parliament in particular – especially for someone with so little experience of the place.

Such moments can kick-start a perception that then develops a momentum of its own. After so many failed experiments with their leadership, National must hope that they have not picked another disappointment.

So, the first polling results on Christopher Luxon’s leadership of the National party are now available. The polling I refer to is not a public opinion poll but the private polling conducted by the National party itself. All parties conduct such polling, usually by means of focus groups, and they use qualitative rather than quantitative techniques. Such polling is useful in identifying the public’s reaction to specific issues, and particularly in sounding out their response to individual figures, such as new leaders.

We can make a reasonably informed assumption that such polling has taken place and speculate about the results it has thrown up. The key tell-tale is a change that has taken place in the way the new National leader is presented. Christopher, it seems, has become “Chris”.

The polls have almost certainly shown that “Chris” is more likely to be seen as a man of the people, whereas “Christopher” sounds more like someone from the social and economic elite – a former businessman, for example, who owns seven houses, from which he derives a substantial income as well as a handy capital gain.

A huge amount depends on these early reactions to the new (and so far, untried) leader. If he can show an early improvement in National’s fortunes, his position is strengthened and momentum is achieved. If not, though, the danger is that National finds itself lumbered with a second Todd Muller.

Which way do the odds point? The worrying factor for “Chris” is that the National party caucus is still a nest of vipers and the viper-in-chief is still alive and kicking. Judith Collins would not be Judith Collins if she did not still harbour the illusion that she could yet be Prime Minister – and Simon Bridges, more realistically, is still young enough to think that he could outlast a whole succession of party leaders.

A second cause for concern for “Chris” is that, as he surveys the talent available to him in the parliamentary party, he must surely ask himself the question as to why this younger cohort could not find from within their number someone who could make a serious challenge for the leadership. Is the National party so bereft of talent that they had to draft in an outsider with no political experience to lead them?

What happened to the Woodhouses and the Goldsmiths and the Bishops, who had seemed to be so ambitious for higher things? What is an inexperienced leader to do without a really able (and hopefully loyal) team to support him?

The best guide to how the new leader is faring is to watch for further presentational changes. A leader who is uncertain as to how well he is going will be under constant pressure to tweak various aspects of his public persona. What next to expect? A sex change is presumably a step too far.

What do we know so far about Christopher (or is it to be “Chris”?) Luxon?

We have so far been allowed to know only that he was chief executive of Air New Zealand, that he is an evangelical Christian (that is, a proselytising, and not just your everyday,) Christian, and that he is a friend and political protege of John Key.

What do those sparingly released items of information add up to? The first two, taken together, present a somewhat unattractive picture – of a business leader who believes that his view of how society should be run is not only endorsed but also demanded by the God he worships.

Such a belief is well encapsulated in the words of the old hymn –

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.

The picture they paint is of a socially conservative man who believes that everyone “has his place” and that this is ordained by God. This seems hardly the stance of a political leader who can lead us through the manifold and rapidly changing challenges of the modern world – with all the varying needs and demands of a society that is increasingly heterogeneous, in terms of its ethnicity and sexual preference and religious belief and need for social mobility.

The “reset” he promises seems likely to mean a return to a past era, not just for the National party, but also for a country that should be preparing for a post-Covid future.

This image of someone whose concept of society is rooted in the past is somewhat borne out by his apparent links to his mentor, John Key. Luxon as Key, Mark II, may appeal to some dyed-in-the-wool National supporters, but is unlikely to make many converts to the Luxon cause.

We are now sufficiently distanced from Key to recognise that he was an old-fashioned con-man – a skilled one, perhaps, but a con-man nevertheless.

Key was, in reality, a right-wing ideologue who managed to persuade the electorate that he was hardly a politician at all. It seems unlikely that Luxon has the John Key lightness of touch and sunny disposition to enable him to pull the same trick again.

So, what are we left with? There may in fact be little more to know. Luxon may well be what you see – no more, no less – a middle-aged white male who succeeded in business, and who is burdened by most of the inflexible prejudices and ingrained beliefs that most such people typically acquire.

His one claim to suitability as leader of the country seems to be that he is not Judith Collins.