It is a truth universally acknowledged among the Patagomanian people (an alien species who monitor the human race's antics from a distant planet) that the New Zealand fixation on the road toll is a form of psychological substitution. Unable to cope with addressing truly complex social problems—so the Patagomanian reasoning goes—the New Zealanders find satisfaction and even pleasure in simple numerical reduction. A falling road toll signifies progress, suggests collective responsibility, conveys a sense of the nation working together to save lives. Fair enough, as far as that goes (as an old Patagomanian proverb has it). Yet on that planet, where life is lived in an indeterminate, oblique fashion, they reckon the New Zealanders have no idea what to do about the problem they call 'child abuse,' and would rather, for the sake of not having to think too hard, reduce the number of road deaths than reduce the number of children's deaths at the hands of violent adults.
Actually, the Patagamonians are troubled by the very term 'child abuse.' On the planet where they live, the name of which is never the same two days running, to define something is essentially to destroy the meaning of it. To them, the term 'child abuse,' while useful in some respects, has come to be a convenient catch-all for a wide range of behaviours and conditions, enabling it to be isolated from the ever-changing activity systems that give rise to it and shape it. The term even has the curious effect of seeming to diminish the worst crimes of all—murder and torture—by lumping them in with everything from bullying to bad language.
Leaving that aside, however, what mainly disturbs the Patagomanians, among whom no hand is ever raised to a child, is the inability of the New Zealanders to recognize the economic connection with 'child abuse.' They would roll their eyes (if they had them) at the idea that the murder and torture and beating of children could be 'solved' by setting up a committee or commissioning an inquiry or putting more resources into frontline programs. They marvel at the wilful refusal to perceive that the way an economy operates is inseparable from the way the people who are part of it live. Though they hold no particular brief for the New Zealanders, many of them wish that perception could be politically acknowledged and acted on. As one Patagomanian elder (her words are translated) has said, 'The day I hear a New Zealand politician mention GDP growth and child abuse in the same breath, that's when I'll believe they're beginning to understand.' In fact, incredible as it may seem, one team of Patagomanian observers has traced a connection between the selling-off of state forests in the late 1980s and the brutally violent death of an Auckland toddler 20 years later.
Incredible. Patagomania is light years away from New Zealand.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
He sleeps across the sea
All that summer, the people of Aotearoa New Zealand—a proud, fierce, independent people—waited for him to come. They knew he would. He had come before, and moved among them, offering opchunities, and it was good. But now he had flown away to the ancestral home of Hawaii-key. 'He sleeps across the sea,' mothers told their children. 'He is at peace with his ancestors. But one day, when the white foam is flying, and the godwits skim the ocean, in search of their hunting grounds, he will come.'
And so it will be. One morning he will awake at dawn, go down to the beach and push his canoe out into the surf. He knows that, far to the south, there is work to be done. Through the pounding breakers the canoe will lift and surge, driven forward by the muscular arms of the Young Nats, powering their leader towards a destiny greater than will ever be known by those who have served one term only. There is a second term, and he will serve it.
From Hawaii-key he will come, the redeemer, the smiling one, the welder of coalitions, the prophet of the mixed ownership model. And the great volcano of Media-o-Brouhaha will rumble and smoke, celebrating his return. And the people of Aotearoa New Zealand will go forth and seek the opchunities he offers; and if they are not there, great will be the lamentation thereof. But he will be quite relaxed about that.
And so it will be. One morning he will awake at dawn, go down to the beach and push his canoe out into the surf. He knows that, far to the south, there is work to be done. Through the pounding breakers the canoe will lift and surge, driven forward by the muscular arms of the Young Nats, powering their leader towards a destiny greater than will ever be known by those who have served one term only. There is a second term, and he will serve it.
From Hawaii-key he will come, the redeemer, the smiling one, the welder of coalitions, the prophet of the mixed ownership model. And the great volcano of Media-o-Brouhaha will rumble and smoke, celebrating his return. And the people of Aotearoa New Zealand will go forth and seek the opchunities he offers; and if they are not there, great will be the lamentation thereof. But he will be quite relaxed about that.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Here comes summer
Every year, without fail, between Christmas and New Year campgrounds are flooded, wind wrecks tents, sodden holidaymakers pack up and go home, festivals turn into seas of mud. Yet still the plucky New Zealanders set out on their holidays at this time, headed like lemmings straight for the cliff. Some hereditary instinct, deeply implanted, tells them that once the last of the Christmas dinner has been slept off, and the kids have exhausted the novelty of their new toys, then it must be Summer. And Summer means Holidays. Long spells of Glorious Hot Weather. Not a drop of rain in sight. Get in the car and go.
Probably, eventually, by a Darwinian process of natural selection, a new kind of New Zealand holidaymaker will emerge who realizes that true summer has shifted. Maybe once those long spells of GHW did happen around Christmas/New Year—in fact, my memories of a 1950s childhood tell me they started even earlier—but for at least 15 or 20 years now it has been plain that the weather in late December is more likely to be wet and even cold than warm and dry. Even early January can be moody with cloud. The better summer weather (azure sky, baking heat) rarely kicks in before the middle of the month, and it is a truth universally acknowledged that the really hot stuff these days happens in February and even March.
Something's out of whack. The summer solstice may be fixed at 22 December but true summer peaks in February now. Just when the kids are back in school.
There is a way to fix this, and it will take the same kind of boldness Samoa has just shown by arbitrarily shifting its time zone west of the international dateline. It goes like this:
(a) Treat Christmas as a long weekend, like Easter.
(b) Everyone goes back to work and school after that.
(c) New Year's Day could be a one-day holiday but not necessarily: in many countries it's an ordinary working day.
(d) School breaks up mid-January and the school holidays run from then to the end of February (that's when universities already resume: why not primary and secondary schools?).
This way, everyone, especially children, gets to enjoy the best summer weather, instead of gazing longingly out of classroom and office windows during the burning heat of February. And (by the way) stop starting Super 15 rugby in February when the grounds are at their hardest. No wonder so many players get injured. Happy New Year.
Probably, eventually, by a Darwinian process of natural selection, a new kind of New Zealand holidaymaker will emerge who realizes that true summer has shifted. Maybe once those long spells of GHW did happen around Christmas/New Year—in fact, my memories of a 1950s childhood tell me they started even earlier—but for at least 15 or 20 years now it has been plain that the weather in late December is more likely to be wet and even cold than warm and dry. Even early January can be moody with cloud. The better summer weather (azure sky, baking heat) rarely kicks in before the middle of the month, and it is a truth universally acknowledged that the really hot stuff these days happens in February and even March.
Something's out of whack. The summer solstice may be fixed at 22 December but true summer peaks in February now. Just when the kids are back in school.
There is a way to fix this, and it will take the same kind of boldness Samoa has just shown by arbitrarily shifting its time zone west of the international dateline. It goes like this:
(a) Treat Christmas as a long weekend, like Easter.
(b) Everyone goes back to work and school after that.
(c) New Year's Day could be a one-day holiday but not necessarily: in many countries it's an ordinary working day.
(d) School breaks up mid-January and the school holidays run from then to the end of February (that's when universities already resume: why not primary and secondary schools?).
This way, everyone, especially children, gets to enjoy the best summer weather, instead of gazing longingly out of classroom and office windows during the burning heat of February. And (by the way) stop starting Super 15 rugby in February when the grounds are at their hardest. No wonder so many players get injured. Happy New Year.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Media release
I must confess to being mystified by the fuss about the release of dotterels that have been looked after at a wildlife centre for the past few weeks until the Rena oil spill cleared in the Bay of Plenty. Fifteen were set free the other day to join the 17 released earlier. The news media were there, and the birds were blessed by a kaumatua. I don't wish to decry the effort that went into this, but surely it was just a matter of joining up the dotterels?
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Low turnout
The low turnout is still one of the talking points of the 2011 election. Many commentators have drawn attention to it. The questions are always the same: what can have made people so apathetic? Why couldn't they be bothered? Have they no respect for democracy?
One can well understand why young people in particular are asking such questions. It seems inexplicable to them that the politicians didn't turn out for the election. The major parties especially failed to show. Apparently they just couldn't be bothered advancing relevant, realistic, unpatronising policies that spoke to where people are actually at in their lives.
A group of gang members on an Otara street corner were baffled. They couldn't understand why political parties would adopt such a stay-at-home attitude. They found it very discouraging. 'Honestly,' said one, 'you'd think they would care about what happens to this country. But apparently not.'
Two Wellington students were disgusted by the politicians' attitude. 'Democracy is wasted on those people,' said one of them. 'Just once every three years they could at least show up in recognizable human form. It's not a lot to ask.'
Another said she'd expected a big turnout of stimulating ideas but there were none to be seen on the day. 'Doesn't anyone care?' she asked in despair.
Several unemployed twentysomethings who took part in a major current-affairs debate on TV said they thought politicians had issues with reality and should go easy on the drugs.
Just why are political parties so apathetic? It seems they don't see democracy as relevant to their lives. They'd rather play games among themselves and ignore what's happening in the street—or on the planet, for that matter. None of them even mentioned climate change and global warming during the campaign. The world financial crisis scarcely got a look-in. All they ever talked about on Twitter and Facebook was their relationships with each other and the media and who was better-looking or smarter.
It doesn't bode well for future elections.
One can well understand why young people in particular are asking such questions. It seems inexplicable to them that the politicians didn't turn out for the election. The major parties especially failed to show. Apparently they just couldn't be bothered advancing relevant, realistic, unpatronising policies that spoke to where people are actually at in their lives.
A group of gang members on an Otara street corner were baffled. They couldn't understand why political parties would adopt such a stay-at-home attitude. They found it very discouraging. 'Honestly,' said one, 'you'd think they would care about what happens to this country. But apparently not.'
Two Wellington students were disgusted by the politicians' attitude. 'Democracy is wasted on those people,' said one of them. 'Just once every three years they could at least show up in recognizable human form. It's not a lot to ask.'
Another said she'd expected a big turnout of stimulating ideas but there were none to be seen on the day. 'Doesn't anyone care?' she asked in despair.
Several unemployed twentysomethings who took part in a major current-affairs debate on TV said they thought politicians had issues with reality and should go easy on the drugs.
Just why are political parties so apathetic? It seems they don't see democracy as relevant to their lives. They'd rather play games among themselves and ignore what's happening in the street—or on the planet, for that matter. None of them even mentioned climate change and global warming during the campaign. The world financial crisis scarcely got a look-in. All they ever talked about on Twitter and Facebook was their relationships with each other and the media and who was better-looking or smarter.
It doesn't bode well for future elections.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Game-changers
As the election campaign enters its final few days, we asked a panel of expert commentators to reflect on the key points of the campaign so far. Here is a transcript of the debate, which was chaired by veteran broadcaster Rory O'Really.
O'Really: Well, let's get straight into it, shall we? On my left I have the exciting young blogger Vlad Lenin, who has been breaking new ground with his blog Trained Seal. Vlad, you're on record as saying that Labour's capital gains tax policy was a game-changer. Would you like to elaborate on that?
Lenin: The changing of the game is an essential component of the expropriation of the propertied classes, but only under the leadership of a revolutionary vanguard. The deviationist elements must be ruthlessly eliminated. Parekura Horomia has to go too, no question about that.
O'Really: Well, you could be onto something there, Vlad. Let's—
Lenin: And that's Sealed Train, not Trained Seal.
O'Really: Oh really? Good to get that cleared up. Let's hear now from TV1 political editor Jean-Paul Sartre. J-P, do you think the tea-tape controversy was a game-changer for Winston Peters?
Sartre: Existence itself is a game-changer. To paraphrase Descartes, I exist, therefore I change my game. Man makes his own being, but what lies between being and nothingness? I think that is a question for Don Brash. Oh, by the way, hell is other people.
O'Really: Allen Ginsberg, I'd like to bring you in here.
Ginsberg: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked—and man, that was a total game-changer.
O'Really: Right. For a wider perspective I'm going to ask Elizabeth Windsor to come in on this one. Liz, you've seen a few game-changers in your time, haven't you?
Windsor: My husband and I wish all peoples of the Commonwealth the very best in changing their game, and have a lovely Christmas too, with lots of prezzies woof woof.
O'Really: Nice touch. Now—
Lenin: We have said that there could not have been Social-Democratic consciousness among the workers. It would have to be brought to them from without. I don't know how many times I have to say this. Are you people stupid or what?
O'Really: Yes. Well, moving on, we've got Conrad Murray, direct from the Los Angeles County Jail. Conrad, what's your take on the Green vote as a game-changer?
Murray: Anyone can change their game, any time. I recommend propofol, lidocaine, ativan, valium and a spot of ephedrine—just a soupçon, really. Use as directed by your medical practitioner. Or not, as the case may be.
Windsor: Could I say something about world peace here?
O'Really: No, fuck off. We're almost out of time, but I'd just like to ask Vlad if he regards last night's TV3 debate between John Key and Phil Goff as a game-changer.
Lenin: Sorry, I was watching Shortland Street. That Brooke—what a woman! Phwarrr! I'd go to the barricades for her any time.
Sartre: Has anyone seen my pipe?
O'Really: Well, let's get straight into it, shall we? On my left I have the exciting young blogger Vlad Lenin, who has been breaking new ground with his blog Trained Seal. Vlad, you're on record as saying that Labour's capital gains tax policy was a game-changer. Would you like to elaborate on that?
Lenin: The changing of the game is an essential component of the expropriation of the propertied classes, but only under the leadership of a revolutionary vanguard. The deviationist elements must be ruthlessly eliminated. Parekura Horomia has to go too, no question about that.
O'Really: Well, you could be onto something there, Vlad. Let's—
Lenin: And that's Sealed Train, not Trained Seal.
O'Really: Oh really? Good to get that cleared up. Let's hear now from TV1 political editor Jean-Paul Sartre. J-P, do you think the tea-tape controversy was a game-changer for Winston Peters?
Sartre: Existence itself is a game-changer. To paraphrase Descartes, I exist, therefore I change my game. Man makes his own being, but what lies between being and nothingness? I think that is a question for Don Brash. Oh, by the way, hell is other people.
O'Really: Allen Ginsberg, I'd like to bring you in here.
Ginsberg: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked—and man, that was a total game-changer.
O'Really: Right. For a wider perspective I'm going to ask Elizabeth Windsor to come in on this one. Liz, you've seen a few game-changers in your time, haven't you?
Windsor: My husband and I wish all peoples of the Commonwealth the very best in changing their game, and have a lovely Christmas too, with lots of prezzies woof woof.
O'Really: Nice touch. Now—
Lenin: We have said that there could not have been Social-Democratic consciousness among the workers. It would have to be brought to them from without. I don't know how many times I have to say this. Are you people stupid or what?
O'Really: Yes. Well, moving on, we've got Conrad Murray, direct from the Los Angeles County Jail. Conrad, what's your take on the Green vote as a game-changer?
Murray: Anyone can change their game, any time. I recommend propofol, lidocaine, ativan, valium and a spot of ephedrine—just a soupçon, really. Use as directed by your medical practitioner. Or not, as the case may be.
Windsor: Could I say something about world peace here?
O'Really: No, fuck off. We're almost out of time, but I'd just like to ask Vlad if he regards last night's TV3 debate between John Key and Phil Goff as a game-changer.
Lenin: Sorry, I was watching Shortland Street. That Brooke—what a woman! Phwarrr! I'd go to the barricades for her any time.
Sartre: Has anyone seen my pipe?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
League tea tape call
A summit meeting of Arab League leaders in Morocco has called for the release of the secret recording of the conversation between John Key and John Banks.
In a special communique the leaders say the present impasse is endangering hopes of progress towards free speech and democracy and stuff.
Qatar's prime minister, Sheikh Hamad bin Jassem al-Thani, says it has been distressing to watch Mr Key hoist himself on his own petard.
He told reporters the Arab League cannot rest easy while a major international leader pisses in his own pocket.
International experts say self-petard-hoisting is a form of torture akin to waterboarding and can be extremely painful, especially if the pocket is pissed in at the same time.
In a related development, league secretary-general Amr Mohammed Moussa says he was disturbed to hear that National Party president Peter Goodfellow had pulled out of a Morning Report interview after earlier agreeing to appear on the program.
'I know him,' said Mr Moussa. 'He's a good fellow. These are troubling times.'
The Arab League says tea should always be drunk in moderation.
In a special communique the leaders say the present impasse is endangering hopes of progress towards free speech and democracy and stuff.
Qatar's prime minister, Sheikh Hamad bin Jassem al-Thani, says it has been distressing to watch Mr Key hoist himself on his own petard.
He told reporters the Arab League cannot rest easy while a major international leader pisses in his own pocket.
International experts say self-petard-hoisting is a form of torture akin to waterboarding and can be extremely painful, especially if the pocket is pissed in at the same time.
In a related development, league secretary-general Amr Mohammed Moussa says he was disturbed to hear that National Party president Peter Goodfellow had pulled out of a Morning Report interview after earlier agreeing to appear on the program.
'I know him,' said Mr Moussa. 'He's a good fellow. These are troubling times.'
The Arab League says tea should always be drunk in moderation.
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