• When A Minister’s Luck Runs Out

    It is said that Napoleon, on being told of the impressive attributes of a new general, asked, “But is he lucky?”
    Napoleon, it seems, understood that in war, as in politics, luck – and timing – are everything. Most politicians will ride their luck while they can but will come unstuck when their luck runs out. That is why Enoch Powell once said famously, and with only slight exaggeration, that “all political careers end in failure.”
    A case in point is that of Hekia Parata. She is a politician who enjoyed a meteoric rise. The problem with meteoric rises, however, is that it is all too easy. There isn’t time to develop the calluses, the scar tissue, the thick skin, that will be needed when the going gets tougher.
    Ms Parata had everything going for her. She had had a successful career outside politics. She attracted attention by fighting a skilful by-election campaign in a hopeless seat so that she was a shoo-in for a National list seat and an apparently effortless rise – after effective spells deputising for others – into the Cabinet.
    In John Key’s new Cabinet, she seemed a natural for the hitherto problem portfolio of education. But just a year into her brief, she is in trouble. What went wrong?
    The short answer is that her luck ran out and the attributes that had served her well on the rise were not enough to sustain her when she came under pressure. But the story is a little more complicated than that.
    Such is the flak she is now taking that it is easy to forget that her predecessor, Anne Tolley, had an equally difficult time. Those tribulations afflicting two education ministers in succession reflect not so much the particular deficiencies of the individual ministers as the deep flaws in the education policy pursued by the Government as a whole.
    The Key government has quite deliberately set out on a policy that flies in the face of our long and largely successful experience in creating an excellent education system in this country. The government has preferred to play upon the fears, prejudices and just plain ignorance of some parents and – in the course of putting in place policies such as national standards – defied the evidence and the accumulated expertise of education professionals and experts from both at home and overseas.
    Little wonder that tensions and conflict have been the leit motiv of education policy and that education ministers have found it tough going. Hekia Parata was on a hiding to nothing, but – anxious to please – she did not have the political weight to defy the Prime Minister and avoid the obvious bear traps.
    In this, she was not helped by the fact that she was saddled with a chief executive whom she had had no say in appointing. Lesley Longstone was a victim – as were we all – of a syndrome that is now well entrenched – the apparent belief that a half-way competent UK public official with little chance of reaching the top in Britain (as witness the willingness to come to New Zealand) would be good enough to do a wonderful job for us.
    Never mind that knowledge of New Zealand and of our particular requirements might be lacking. The only criterion that matters, it seems, is that the appointee should have demonstrated commitment to the correct ideological positions – should (in Mrs Thatcher’s term) be “one of us”. If actual experience applying “free-market” policies could also be shown, even if that experience had demonstrated the failure of such policies in the UK, so much the better.
    So, Hekia Parata found herself leant on from above and pushed further in the same direction from below. And, to make matters worse, she found herself committed by no less an educational expert than John Banks to an education experiment with so-called “charter” schools that even the Treasury has condemned as unwise.
    When things turn sour, everything is seen in a bad light. When the minister ventured to hope that teachers might pronounce their pupils’ names correctly – something that, as someone whose surname is consistently mispronounced, she no doubt felt strongly about – that was seen as arrogant and inappropriate.
    And, as she came under pressure, she might have done well to recall the story told by Harold Macmillan, the former British Prime Minister. As a young MP, he revealed to a senior colleague that he was extremely nervous about speaking in the House of Commons, with “the enemy” facing him across the Chamber. “But,” said the senior man, “those aren’t your enemies. They’re your opponents. Your enemies sit behind you.”
    Those who rise quickly will inevitably arouse less than generous feelings in those whom they overtake. As Hekia Parata‘s bubble has burst, it is equally inevitable that there should be some schadenfreude on the part of others and perhaps less disposition to help and support her.
    So, the minister is pretty much on her own. Politicians, whether going up or down, don’t usually attract much sympathy. But they are, after all, human. As Shakespeare might have observed, if you prick them, do they not bleed?
    Bryan Gould
    23 December 2012

    This article was published in the NZ Herald on 26 December.

  • What the Hekia Doing?

    John Key enjoyed his first term as Prime Minister. It all seemed so easy. But now, in his second term, it’s not so much fun.

    The rot began to set in even before the last election, with the ill-fated storm in the John Banks teacup, and the Epsom MP has continued to give him nightmares ever since. But it is not just the Prime Minister’s inability to take decisive action to purge his government of a toxic element that has hurt him; the perception is growing that he is not as good as he should be at running an effective government.

    Too many of his ministers seem to lack proper direction; too many do and say things that surely cannot have been approved by Cabinet. When he looks at his education minister’s recent record, for example, with ill-judged initiatives followed by embarrassing backdowns on class sizes and Canterbury school closures, he could be excused for exclaiming “What the Hekia doing?”

    And how close an eye does he keep on his Foreign Minister, who used his speech to the UN General Assembly to promote New Zealand’s candidature for a seat on the Security Council in 2014, but at the same time has virtually destroyed our proud record as an active member of UNESCO, of whose founding document we were the second country to step up to sign in 1946? Is that the way to demonstrate that we are a good UN citizen?

    Even his most senior ministers seem to be laws unto themselves. Bill English, with whom he seems to have an increasingly tetchy relationship, seems not to have bothered to keep the Prime Minister in the loop over one of his main responsibilities while acting as PM during John Key’s absence overseas. And the Prime Minister himself seems to have a pretty cavalier attitude to those same responsibilities, declaring that a barely believable mistake by the spy agencies for which he is responsible minister – and one that was absolutely central to the performance of their prime functions – was nothing to do with him.

    Little wonder, then, that the Prime Minister now displays the unmistakable symptoms of a familiar second-term syndrome. Prime Ministers often get tired of the continued pressure and criticism they encounter on a daily basis in domestic politics. They begin to yearn, and then actively to look for, the respite they gain from overseas trips, whether necessary or manufactured.

    How pleasant it must be – after all the trials and tribulations of dealing with an ungrateful public – to go abroad to be feted and flattered, to be treated as an honoured guest, to enjoy the attention of uncritical media. But it is always a bad sign when, in any walk of life, someone doing an important job is happier away from it than actually doing it.

    The Prime Minister enjoys – and why not – overseas travel. The opportunities to travel – particularly to the United States, whether to watch his son play baseball or to tour Hollywood studios – seem, however, to be coming with increasing frequency.

    His latest foray to Hollywood is not just to collect a couple of autographs from some minor Hollywood celebrities. It has, we are assured, a serious purpose; but that serious purpose does not necessarily make us feel any happier about it.

    His latest engagement with the major film moguls, after all, calls to mind his last involvement with them, when a handful of Warner Bros executives rolled into town, told the Prime Minister what they wanted, and left shortly afterwards with major tax concessions (that is, gifts) in their pockets and having forced a change in our labour laws that reduced the rights of New Zealand workers. And we must bear in mind that John Key’s usual response to powerful overseas corporations, from mining interests to purchasers of our assets, is “The answer’s yes, now, what’s the question?”

    The Prime Minister assures us that he does not intend to make any further offers on this occasion – and short of handing over our powers of self-government, it is hard to know what more he could do to ingratiate himself with them. But what is the Prime Minister doing there at all?

    According to his own account, he is there as a salesman – and that raises another set of questions. The Prime Minister’s special expertise, as a foreign exchange dealer, was as a deal-maker; but, given the whole range of responsibilities he has to shoulder and the many pressing problems demanding his attention, is this the best way he can find to spend four days in his busy schedule? And, if the government really does need to softsoap Hollywood, does he not have a trade minister to do that?

    Do we really want or need a Prime Minister whose first and perhaps only thought is sell off whatever he can lay his hands on? And should those assets he seems so ready to sell include his – and our – self-respect as well?

    Bryan Gould

    2 October 2012

    This article was published in the NZ Herald on 4 October.