Donald Trump has evidently never bothered with a portrait in the attic.  We can learn all we need to know about him by simply looking at him – the story of a lifetime’s self-indulgence and misdeeds can be read in his face.  His body language, his facial expressions, his gestures all speak to a persona from which, if encountered in everyday life, we would instinctively recoil.

A Donald Trump in the flesh (of which there is no shortage) would immediately impress (or otherwise) as self-obsessed, thin-skinned, prone to use abuse as a substitute for rational argument – rather like an overgrown and over-indulged spoilt little boy.  Listening as well as looking would reveal a trash-talking ignoramus with a propensity to embellish the truth and to respond to criticism with insults, particularly directed at women and those of different ethnicities.

A real-life Donald Trump, in other words, could not expect as a private individual to make many friends or admirers.  Most of us would see him as a classic blowhard with little capacity to reach reasoned decisions – barely worth the time of day, let alone a position of responsibility, more likely to cheat and lie to serve his own interests rather than to take those of other people into account.

So how is it that, despite the evidence of their own eyes, so many seem to support him – even to like and admire him?  The answer is a worrying one for our (or at least American) democracy.  The explanation is that the Donald Trump that most people think they know is a cipher, not a real person.  He is a construct, created to function effectively only in the public and artificial domains of politics and television.

I have always resisted the notion that politics is an arena in which anything goes – where the normal standards of good behaviour are suspended and should not necessarily be expected.  It is surely wise to insist that not only should the same standards apply in public life as we would expect in private life, but that personal qualities that we would see as unacceptable in a private individual should be equally so if carried into the public arena.

Why, then, do so many seem to overlook the qualities that Trump parades before us – those of a boor and a bully and a blowhard and a cheat and a liar and a racist and someone pathologically disrespectful to women –  qualities that would ordinarily lead most of us to react adversely to him?  The answer is that Trump made his reputation and created his persona as a television personality – a denizen of “reality” television who learned that he could entertain by shocking his audience and could arouse in some a reluctant admiration through his willingness to ride roughshod over anybody who got in his way.

The Trump people see on the stump as a presidential candidate is someone who is famous for his catch-cry “you’re fired!”  They have grown accustomed to laughing and marvelling when the objects of Trump’s brutal dismissals are discomfited and upset.  Sadly, they seem unable to distinguish between the qualities needed to entertain them on a television show and those required of a political leader who must strike a careful balance between competing interests both at home and abroad.

As someone who spent several years of his life as a reporter and interviewer on one of the UK’s top current affairs shows, I recognise that there is a paradox here.  It has always seemed to me that one of television’s strengths as a medium is that, at its best, it quickly exposes anything that is false or a sham; the charlatan does not usually survive long.

But that depends on the public’s ability to read what they see correctly.  In Trump’s case, they have learned, as they believe, to “read” him – and they willingly transfer what they think they have learned to the quite different context in which he now appears.

The Trump they see as a potential President is, as far as they are concerned, “authentic”.  He is behaving as they expect him to.  Behaviours that they would reject as inappropriate in anyone else – and certainly in any other candidate for the presidency – have been certified as acceptable by his success as a television personality.

The consequences of this unfortunate lacuna in public perception could be dire for the US and for the rest of the “free” world.   And we would be foolish to assume that we are immune from the same syndrome in New Zealand.

We do not, mercifully, often have to reckon with television personalities seeking elected office.  But we are not short of television “stars” whose stock-in-trade is relentless and shameless self-promotion and a readiness to insult, shock, and offend, and who, once having attracted a viewing audience, then take the chance to deliver us our current affairs along with an unhealthy dose of more or less overt and extreme political views.

Donald Trump is, in other words, not the only threat to an effective democracy.  There are those everywhere, and not least here, ready to emulate what some would see as his “success”.

Bryan Gould

6 October 2016

The recent poll showing that Labour is losing rather than gaining ground will have been very disappointing to the Labour leadership – particularly because their improved performance across the board might have been expected to produce a lift in popular support.

The Labour party seems, after all, to have put behind it most of the deficiencies that have held it back.  The parliamentary party is more united and has largely eschewed the kind of in-fighting that gave such a damaging impression of disunity.  The front bench is competent and working hard, holding the government to account for its deficiencies, of which there is no shortage.

They have a competent and respected leader who is clearly demonstrating his credentials as a prospective Prime Minister.  They have agreed a collaborative arrangement with potential coalition partners and are ready to remedy the oversights – such as the failure to focus adequately on the importance of the party vote – that cost Labour votes in the last election.

So, what more can be done?  We should not assume that Labour MPs are necessarily best-placed to provide the answer.  This is not because they are ill-equipped to do so, but because of the demands that our parliamentary system places on them.

As I know from my own experience as an MP (admittedly in the British rather than the New Zealand parliament), parliamentarians work long hours and are dragged in a dozen different directions at once.  There is little time to reflect on whether the best use has been made of the available time.

The danger is that this leads to a focus on day-by-day events rather than new strategic thinking.  It can lead to the conclusion that each new issue requires a new and immediate policy response.

There are of course instances of particular policies on particular issues moving opinion substantially.  But elections are more usually decided by wider considerations – what might be called value systems – and, for a party of the left, and by definition one that purports to offer a vision of a better society, this is surely the most promising avenue.

This may be where Labour is falling short.  They have perhaps failed to grasp that what they are really up against is a hegemonic force – a neo-liberal revolution – that has shaped political attitudes in western democracies across the globe for more than a generation and that now represents a norm so powerful that it is not even recognised as such by those who might be expected to oppose it.

This hegemony cannot be changed or challenged just by nibbling at the edges – by attacking short-term policy failures on specific issues, or by sharpening up campaigning techniques.  What is needed is a fundamental statement of what the Labour party stands for, and a persuasive account of why it will produce a better and more successful society than has been delivered by the current neo-liberal orthodoxy.

Many of those who might consider voting Labour do so precisely because they are looking for a different set of values than those demonstrated by our current government and than are reflected in today’s New Zealand.  The National government makes no secret of its belief that the market – which they see as the mainspring of economic activity and as an infallible moral arbiter of what is and is not worthwhile – must always prevail.

Many of our more thoughtful fellow-citizens, however, do not want a society where the bottom line is all that matters, where the market decides who prospers and who is left behind, where social and environmental issues take second or third place to the drive for profit.

They want to see a society which is stronger, happier and healthier because we have learned all over again that we are all better off if we look after each other.  They are ready to learn the lesson, increasingly reinforced by experience around the world, that we do not have to choose between market efficiency and social justice – that those societies which fairly share the fruits of economic success also produce the better economic outcomes.

Labour should, in other words, be braver in taking on their opponents on these big issues – the ones that matter most.  Yes, personal competencies, the correct policy options, campaigning effectiveness, all have a role to play, and Labour owes it to their supporters to get those things right.

But voters will feel more confident in voting Labour if they are convinced that a Labour government will approach individual issues from a consistent viewpoint – one that will give priority to the values of tolerance, mutual respect, compassion, care for each other, and a recognition that “we’re all in this together”.

It’s not that values are all that matter.  The voters will still want to know what a Labour government might do, in practical policy terms, about particular issues, such as the housing crisis.  But they will be more receptive to those policy proposals, and will understand them better, if they can locate them within a moral framework, if they are not just a solution to a particular problem but are an expression of a different and potentially superior view of how a successful, happier and healthier society might function.

Bryan Gould

18 September 2016

Is There Something Wrong with Aussie Sport?

The news that Australian Olympians returning from Rio have been given a hard time by the Australian media and public for the alleged paucity of their medal haul will, sadly, have come as little surprise to Kiwi sports fans.  It is further evidence that there may be something wrong with the Aussie attitude to sport.

Sporting success for our trans-Tasman cousins is no longer, it seems, something to be welcomed and celebrated when it comes along, but is rather to be expected, even demanded.  And when the demand isn’t met, those who were the best the country could put forward, but whose best wasn’t quite good enough to top the world, are pilloried as failures.

This is the latest addition to what is becoming a distressingly substantial catalogue of apparent Aussie failures to understand what sport, and being a “good sport”, is all about.  Kiwis will not need reminding of the infamous underarm bowling episode – the classic instance of winning at all costs – but there are more recent instances that also give cause for criticism and concern.

It is, after all, Australian cricketers who have made an art-form out of “sledging” – perhaps they even invented the term as well as the practice?  The abusing of opponents in the course of a sporting contest in order to unsettle them has been so much normalised by Aussie cricketers that it is now regarded as an essential and justifiable weapon in their armoury – to the extent that skill in sledging is now regarded as a badge of distinction and a distinctive feature of Australian determination to achieve success by any means, whether fair or foul. It is surely a practice that has no place on a sports field.

Its close association with Australian sport was exemplified in the last Cricket World Cup when New Zealand’s failure, or rather refusal, to follow the practice was regarded as a deliberate ploy and underhand tactic to unsettle their Aussie opponents – the Kiwis, we were told, were “too nice”.

Perhaps the most extreme example of the tactic came, however, in a different sport, though the perpetrator was another Australian.  The promising young Aussie tennis player, Nick Kyrgios, perhaps misled by his elders, has already earned a reputation for bad behaviour; his charge sheet – for smashing rackets and abusing umpires – is already shamefully long, but he excelled himself on an infamous occasion by going out of his way to divulge to his opponent as they crossed at the net a piece of personal and private information about his opponent’s girlfriend.

The aim could not have been other than to gain an advantage by upsetting his opponent.  What sort of sport or sporting ethic would foster or sanction such behaviour or believe for a moment that winning was more important than treating people decently?  The worrying aspect for Australian sport is that such behaviour does not arise in a vacuum; it reflects standards that have been set by others and that encapsulate the belief that sporting success trumps any other consideration and is earned by those who are “tough” or “hard-headed” or “dinkum Aussie” enough to forsake ordinary norms of decent behaviour.

Rugby, inherently a game which rewards a “take no prisoners” approach, is refreshingly free from such attitudes – give or take the odd sneak attack on a Richie McCaw or Dan Carter.   We hear occasionally, especially from the Northern hemisphere, that New Zealand’s success in rugby is attributable to our “physicality” and that we can be matched or beaten only by teams that show a similar imperviousness to the risk of injury or disregard for the rules.  Fortunately, we are able, in most minds at least, to show that it is our skill and strategic understanding of the game, and not any greater willingness to break the rules, that underpins our success.

We should encourage our Aussie cousins, with whom we share so many sporting and other ties, to re-think their attitudes to sport.  Yes, we – and they – are right to feel pride in our sporting achievements, but they are all the more meritorious if combined with a truly sporting attitude.  Their value is diminished if a price is paid for them in terms of a departure from the widely recognised principles of fair play.

And when it comes to measuring success or failure, we should remember that the performances of our sports people are theirs alone and not expressions of some kind of national superiority.  If we select our best performers and they do their best, but do not win, they may disappoint themselves, but they have not let us down.  A sports competition is exactly that; it involves competitors and we have no jurisdiction over how good other competitors may be.  We can expect no more of ours than that they do their best, in their own interests and not ours.  To be good enough to represent their country is success enough.

No one doubts that Australians have a wonderful record of sporting success.  But being Australian does not exempt sports people from the possibility of defeat or the demands of good sportsmanship.  In both countries, we should be quick to say to our Olympians and to all those good enough to be selected to represent us in international competition, “Well done!”

Bryan Gould

25 August 2016

There was a point in Friday night’s Super Rugby game between the Crusaders and the Reds when Scotty Stevenson said in his television commentary, as the referee signalled yet another penalty advantage to the visiting Reds, “it’s like a never-ending advantage.”

There must have been many, both at the ground and watching on television, who shared his frustration, and not just because they were supporting the Crusaders.  The comment came during a passage of play with which we have become all too familiar and which epitomised what is in danger of becoming a blight on the game.

The sequence of events followed a mind-numbingly predictable pattern.  All that is required to set it in motion is that a penalty is awarded to the recipient team somewhere in the opposition’s half of the field.  The decision is taken to kick for the corner rather than take a shot at goal, or a quick tap, or an up-and–under, or any other option that might involve the handling, passing and running skills that constitute so much of the appeal of rugby as a game.

The kick for the corner is duly taken and results in a lineout, usually five metres or so from the line.  By virtue of the penalty, the attacking team has the advantage of throwing into the lineout and can be virtually guaranteed possession, since the defending team dares not contest the lineout for fear that if it does so it will not be properly prepared to resist the inevitable drive for the line.

The drive duly follows, and is organised on the basis that players from the attacking team who do not have the ball are entitled to charge forward, clearing opponents out of the way, so that one of their number carrying the ball at the back of the five-metre drive can dot it down over the line when the opposition have been splintered.

If the opposition are unwise enough to respond in kind by tackling the players advancing on them, they are penalised for “dragging down” the drive, in which case the ball is again kicked into touch and the manoeuvre is repeated.  If the same result is produced, another penalty will be awarded and there is a danger that the outcome will eventually be a penalty try, perhaps accompanied by a yellow card.

The repetition is so marked that, as Scotty Stevenson remarked, it’s as though we are “on a loop”.  The defending team, once locked into the sequence, finds it very difficult to break free, and the effect is magnified by the length of the advantage that most referees now allow.

The tactic is permitted by the current rules, which referees cannot be criticised for applying.  But it is surely obvious that the lineout drive is increasingly at odds with the kind of contest that the game is intended to promote.

It is increasingly used by teams that do not have the wit, skill or ambition to score tries in any other way.  In recent weeks, in the Super Rugby competition, we have seen teams like the Sharks, the Brumbies and the Reds all attempt to negate the superior skills of their opponents by taking advantage of the rules that in effect hand the ball to them just five metres from the line and then invite them to mobilise anything up to the whole team in order to push opponents out of the way so that one ball-carrier can cross the five metres to the line.

The rules mean that the awarding of a penalty on the halfway line can produce an outcome that is often out of all proportion to the gravity of the offence.  It will often lead to a protracted sequence of play, when the ball does not move for minutes on end from a narrow sphere just metres from the line and when repeated and valiant defensive efforts are met by a succession of penalties that ensure that the same dismal manoeuvre is endlessly reproduced.  The advantage from the original penalty can be endlessly prolonged.

It is worth noting that the Crusaders on Friday night, after scoring five tries through running rugby, eventually made what might be regarded as an ironic point by scoring a sixth as a result of a well-executed lineout drive.  They demonstrated that there is room in the game for the traditional rolling maul – as long as it is not the only tactic employed. The varied range of skills and tactics that are possible in rugby is, after all, one of the reasons why it is such a great game.

The powers that be have already begun to address some of problems arising from the current rules.  The solution surely lies in ensuring that the balance of advantage does not lie, with such boring predictability, so one-sidedly in the hands of a team that has done nothing more to earn it than to be awarded a penalty within kicking distance of the corner.  It must surely be made possible for the defending team to resist the drive by legitimate means so that it does not repeatedly run the risk of being pinned on its line until a try or further penalties are conceded.  What must be changed is the high probability that the endless deployment of a sterile tactic will produce an unjustified bonus on the scoreboard.

Bryan Gould

7 May 2016