the nation takes on the trappings of Parliamentary Democracy. Stroll down to the House and along the corridors of power, with the rattling floorboards specially designed by the security service to give warning of arriving assassins. The Parliamentary traditions you will find are those of Burke and Hare rather than Burke and Fox. When interest was greater the country could support a double feature in the General Assembly (R.18) and the Legislative Council (R.75), a political geriatric ward. In a memorable debate this last chamber once debated a proposal to enhance the tourist attractions of Dunedin and give pleasure to the local Italian population (Sig. Giuseppe Martini, 1 Michie St, Roslyn) by buying a dozen gondolas to use on the harbour before it silted over. Ever conscious of the need for economy, always a pressing consideration with Otago estimates, one elderly councillor rose from his slumbers to move an amendment to buy not twelve gondolas but just a male and a female and let nature take its course.
The House is similar—witness this scintillating exchange between Sir Sidney Holland, believed to have been Prime Minister, and Mr Hackett, who may have been a spokesman of the New Zealand Federation of Hairdressers and Dental Surgeons:
Mr Holland said that the country was getting good value for the money spent on the police force. What other workers worked overtime without any special pay he asked?
Mr Hackett: Nurses in hospitals.
Mr Holland: They are not policemen. (Dominion 26 October 1956.)
Demosthenes would not have been allowed to enter New Zealand but his traditions are well maintained. Listen to this polished oratory from a former Minister, Mr W. J. Scott:
‘Part II of the proposed regulations deals with the operation of fish farms. Regulation 15 declares that a licensee of a fish farm may lawfully be in possession of or sell or dispose of fish he has raised on the farm, but subject to the provisions of the regulations. Regulation 16 provides that a licensee may have on his farm only fish which have been raised on the farm or lawfully transferred to the farm and that a transfer can take place only with the authority of the Secretary for Marine. Regulation 17 prohibits a licensee from canning fish or being in possession of fish in cans which have been raised on his farm.’ (Parliamentary Debates, 1 October 1969.)
Oratory is complemented by a deftness of repartee which would have gladdened the heart of Disraeli and his straight man, Gladstone:
Mr Walker: I am reminded of the occasion when he was most critical in this House about rates going up in Christchurch … on the night the rates were discussed by Christchurch City Council the honourable member had leave to go to the Labour Party Ball.
Hon. R. M. Macfarlane: I did not go to that ball.
Mr Walker: Well, the member was not at that meeting.
Mr Hunt: That is absolutely untrue and the member knows it.
Mr Holland: A point of order, Mr Speaker. I draw your attention to the fact that the member for New Lynn interjected saying that what the member said was perfectly untrue and the member knew it.
Mr Speaker: Is that what the member said?
Mr Hunt: Not exactly. I said it was absolutely untrue.
Mr Walker: Experience throughout the world has shown that properties adjacent to a motorway increase in price when the motorway is completed.
Hon. H. Watt: That is a lot of rubbish.
Mr Walker: Property adjacent to a motorway increases in value (interruption).
Mr Speaker: Order. We should not have more than ten people speaking at once.
Mr Walker: I should like to hear the Deputy Leader of the Opposition deny that.
Hon H. Watt: I deny it.
Mr Walker: I should like to hear him deny that Memorial Avenue in Christchurch ….
Hon. H. Watt: That is not a motorway.
Mr Walker: It is a mini-motorway.
Such is the lightning flash of free debate and the challenge of the interplay of ideas.
Though honest and far from glib, our politicians are not guileless, so use this parliamentary terms guide:
TERM: ‘I withdraw.’ TRANSLATION: ‘My allegations are almost certainly true and will stick anyway, now that I’ve made them publicly, but since the Speaker is one of their party hacks not ours, I’ll have to pretend to disavow them in order to get on to the more damning allegations of dishonesty and malpractice later on in my speech.’
TERM: ‘That’s not correct.’ TRANSLATION: ‘He’s right, but by the time they’ve checked, the whole business will be forgotten.’
TERM: ‘The minister is out of touch with his electorate.’ TRANSLATION: ‘My God he’s a good minister—there must be some way of getting at him.’
TERM: ‘I would require notice of that question.’ TRANSLATION: ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea.’
TERM: ‘The member is making debating points.’ TRANSLATION: ‘My God he’s right.’
TERM: ‘Ministers are constantly tripping round the world.’ TRANSLATION: ‘It’s now long enough for them to have forgotten how many we had.’
TERM: ‘A full and frank exchange of views with the American President.’ TRANSLATION: ‘I
got my orders.
TERM: ‘Making a political football out of a complex issue.’ TRANSLATION: ‘They’re on to a good thing.’
TERM: ‘The people will not fall prey to glittering bribes.’ TRANSLATION: ‘We’ve not got much of a policy this time.’
TERM: ‘I wouldn’t stoop to deal with such tawdry accusations.’ TRANSLATION: ‘I couldn’t.’
TERM: ‘I don’t want to use my full time.’ TRANSLATION: ‘I shall only want a short extension.’
TERM: ‘Despite their attempt to discover new policies the other side of the House haven’t changed basically.’ TRANSLATION: ‘How come we’ve nothing new to throw at them.’
TERM: ‘This is no time for defeatist talk.’ TRANSLATION: ‘We’ve got the country into a mess.’
TERM: ‘That question does not follow from the first.’ TRANSLATION: ‘Good heavens, they forgot to brief me on that.’
TERM: ‘I call on the Government to resign.’ TRANSLATION: ‘I’ve run out of ammunition.’
TERM: ‘The Opposition opposed the sale of state houses.’ TRANSLATION: ‘We’ve got to get them off the housing problem. They’ve got too strong a point.’
To change the subject from Parliament, as Mrs Kirk would say, we have a fourth stage of government, People’s Democracy, though we should perhaps omit ‘people’s’—it worries Brigadier Gilbert, even with the P.D.S.A. Every third year, in November, power passes to you personally, though you may have to share it with up to one and a half million others, depending on how many bother to vote. Only now will you realise the full promise of New Zealand politics for they have the most promising politicians in the world. There is no corruption: they aren’t the kind of politicians people would want to vote twice for. Besides, the New Zealander rarely puts cash down. Time payment is the system with politics as with cars. Win now, pay later.
Elections have little to do with politics. They are the local variant of that vital Pacific religious phenomenon, the Cargo Cult. Only in New Zealand does it reach the full apogee of its development. The cargo promised is more lavish and, instead of one prophet to promise it, the Kiwi can choose between three. Ministers who have been arguing the need for discipline, effort and restraint will suddenly discover that things have never been better. The country is moving to a limitless future given the continuation of present policies. Even Mr Muldoon will hover, momentarily, on the brink of a smile as his eyes move away from the television interviewer to seek out the camera. The