Poor Christopher Luxon. His lack of political experience (and judgment) is constantly being highlighted – not least by his recent foray into the treatment of child criminality.

So keen was he to draw attention to his assertion that “Labour is soft on crime” that he was prepared to run the risk of being disowned by experts in the field. He was unwise enough to resurrect a proposal for “boot camps” for young offenders that has a history of failing and that he should have known would be rejected by those who know more on the subject than he does.

The episode demonstrates the pressure he is under to score a goal or two. It also shows that he is having to watch more than one competitor.

It is one thing to contend with Labour for support (especially when the polls suggest that Labour is making ground), but political life is not as simple as that. Luxon has to take account not only of those voters who will stay loyal to Labour; he also has to watch out for his rival to his right. He cannot afford to leak support to Act by being out-flanked on the right.

He must be thinking, over the last few days, how much simpler it was to run a commercial airline than it is to deal with the constant cross-currents of politics.

I have a new book being published this month. It is entitled “What Does It Mean to Be Human?” and is an attempt to arrive at a moral code of our own making – one that will serve all our interests and those of other creatures and of the planet – using our own knowledge, experience, emotional intelligence and reasoning ability, without reference to the supposed benefit of divine guidance.

The publishers are offering a 25% discount on the paperback price in the pre-order period before the publication date at the end of the month. The discount is available at www.austinmacauley.com/book/what-does-it-mean-be-human and requires the use of the code Author 1022. Happy reading!

The crucial moment in the Black Ferns’ Rugby World Cup triumph came in the closing minute. The Red Roses had used a penalty to kick to the corner, and from the throw-in that followed they had clearly planned to use a rolling maul to get the ball across the line – a tactic that had already produced three tries for them during the match and that had been utilised on numerous occasions over the long period of their world dominance.

The lineout was clearly going to be the last play of the game and the try would have secured victory. It was expected on all sides that, following the well-established practice of thousands of teams before them that had been faced with this prospect, the Black Ferns would not contest the lineout – a tactic usually justified on the specious ground that jumping for the ball would merely distract from the crucial task of resisting the rolling maul.

No one watching the game could doubt that the odds were strongly on the Red Roses winning the ball and then driving it across the line, whatever desperate efforts were made to withstand them.

Miraculously, however, it now emerges that Wayne Smith, the Black Ferns coach, who had constantly urged his team during their preparation for the World Cup to play with courage and daring had got a message to them that at such a crucial moment they should “Get someone up!”

He was saying in other words – ‘“Don’t follow the usual practice, but contest the lineout.” He calculated that the Red Roses would not expect the Ferns to jump for the ball and would feel able – as usual – to then settle down to organising the rolling maul that they knew would produce the winning try.

When the ball was thrown in, the Ferns duly put up a jumper who surprised the England jumper, to the extent that she failed to catch it cleanly and knocked it forward. The knock-on was signalled by the referee, and because time was up, it meant the end of the match. Daring and the unconventional had produced the victory.

The lesson is there to be learned, not only in the same particular circumstances but also across the game as a whole. Think for yourselves and do what makes sense to you. Three little words made the difference!

Christopher Luxon was, presumably, in his day a dab hand at airline schedules, but he is obviously a little less competent when it comes to running a country. There is a world of difference between focussing on the single objective of the bottom line when running a trading company and facing all of the complex challenges when trying to run a country.

We are now seeing evidence that the National party and Luxon himself are beginning to recognise his lack of experience and his lack of understanding of how challenging the political world can be. What is that evidence? It is that we are seeing more and more of Luxon’s deputy, Nicola Willis, when it comes to the more difficult interviews – not that she seems any better equipped than her leader when asked to clarify National’s policy on the more complex issues.

Willis for Luxon, in other words, is not necessarily an improvement. She seems, just as much as Luxon, to lack confidence in the policy she is asked to explain. One sign of her lack of confidence is the bright red lipstick she chooses to wear – presumably in order to make her mark and to conceal and compensate for her insecurity.

Voters will no doubt register these deficiencies in National’s leaders when it comes to electing those claiming to be ready to lead the country.

Yesterday’s narrow and stuttering win against Japan highlighted an affliction that has increasingly handicapped the All Blacks in the modern era. Time and again, the keen-eyed observer will have seen that the first response of an All Black back, finding himself in possession and with space to move, was to kick the ball (or attempt to do so) – usually with no apparent motive other than to get rid of it. They seemed to have no confidence in their ability to run and pass with it.

This was in marked contrast to the Japanese backline who made serious gains (in territory, confidence and points) by running hard and by clever support and inter-passing. “Aimless kicking” has been the hallmark of All Black rugby for some time now; it seems to be accepted, by players and coaches alike, as the way modern rugby is to be played.

One way of looking at this development is to lament what appears to be the final triumph of the “rush defence” – the tactic developed, largely in the northern hemisphere, as the best way to negate the superior running and passing and catching skills of teams such as the All Blacks.

New Zealand coaches have adopted what is now called “the kicking game” as the best and possibly only way of sowing doubt in the minds of rapidly advancing tacklers, and allowing incisions to be made behind them as they advance. There is, of course, some value in this tactic being used from time to time, but it has become so much the standard response that the ability to do anything different seems to have been lost.

We have almost reached the point where possession is seen as nothing more than an embarrassment, and our players feel more secure by getting rid of the ball, rather than using it in an attempt to score. This attitude is completely at odds with the real point of rugby, which is, after all, to move the ball across the opponents’ line and score a try; possession of the ball is surely the sine qua non of that enterprise?

The Black Ferns show how it should be done.