Inevitably, he found many. The actions of politicians evoke a special sort of anger, but only rarely do they produce the same anger as a love betrayed; an unfair dismissal; or the unbelievably stupid behaviour of one’s offspring — and the cost of it.
Even so, as Laurie made his way to the bar, his anger advanced before him like a sci-fi force-field.
"You look like you could use something stronger than a pale ale, Laurie", Hannah the bartender, who had been watching his approach with a mixture of apprehension and humour, cast a knowing glance at the top shelf.
"Good idea. Give me a nip of Johnny Walker."
Glancing towards the table in the corner, where his friend, Les, was waving a hand in greeting, Laurie nodded. "And two pale ales."
Les watched his friend toss back the whiskey. This promised to be interesting.
"Ah, it’s silly really. I shouldn’t let myself get so riled up — least of all by politicians. But, sheesh, Christopher Bloody Luxon really p..... me off."
"What’s he done now?"
"It’s not so much what he’s done, as what he has proved, over and over again, to be incapable of doing. The man just can’t seem to assemble the pieces of his own government’s jigsaw into a coherent picture. They’re all just bits and pieces to him. A law change here, a policy reversal there. He just doesn’t seem to be able to see what his colleagues and supporters — both in and out of his government — are looking at."
"Like?"
"Like the use of referenda."
"The Treaty Principles Bill?"
"Yeah, let’s take a look at that piece of the puzzle. Act is asking Parliament to respond to the widespread public unease about the Treaty and its growing impact on the way New Zealand is governed. David Seymour wants to give the public a real chance to have its say about what the Treaty actually amounts to in 2024, and then to vote the outcome of that discussion either up, or down, in a referendum."
"Which Luxon will not allow."
"Correct. Although, he will allow six months of discussion and debate in front of a select committee. But, no matter what all that talking finally produces. No matter how impressive the results of the committee’s deliberations might be. Luxon is pledged to kill the Treaty Principles Bill stone dead by denying it a second reading."
"Yeah, that’s right. But surely Laurie, we’ve known this for some time?"
"Yes, we have. But what most of us don’t realise is that Luxon has signed National up for another referendum."
"On a four-year term."
"Correct. And just think about that for a moment. There’s no evidence of widespread public unease about the current three-year term. It’s an issue beloved by political scientists, policy wonks, and that’s it. As far as the public’s concerned — and this has been confirmed in two referenda already, one in 1967, the other in 1990 — three years is too short for a good government, and too long for a bad one. In other words, the status-quo represents the epitome of good, old-fashioned, Kiwi common sense."
"But, in spite of there being no clamour for a change," Les continued Laurie’s thought, "Luxon and all the other politicians in Parliament will vote to increase the number of years they’re entitled to a minimum salary of $165,000 — plus perks — by one."
"To be confirmed by referendum."
"You bet your life, by referendum. Because, while a nationwide vote to confirm, or not, the public’s understanding of our foundational constitutional document would be ‘divisive’, ‘racist’, a ‘blunt instrument’, and therefore completely out of the question, a referendum to extend the life expectancy of elected politicians, which no-one not deeply involved with the governing process has actually asked for, or wants, is perfectly OK."
"And Luxon doesn’t see the hypocrisy?"
"Exactly. He toddles along to some business leaders’ conflab, waxes eloquent about the deficiencies of our three-year term, more or less guarantees a referendum, and doesn’t for a single second recognise the double standard he’s just set."
"Bloody hell, Laurie. Now I’m mad."
■Chris Trotter is an Auckland writer and commentator.
