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Image showing two rows of houses: the top row is red with a red sky, and the bottom row is blue. White check marks overlay the entire image, creating a red and blue contrast with a mix of abstract and realistic elements.
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BooksApril 2, 2025

Who gets to embrace ‘abundance’ in New Zealand politics?

Image showing two rows of houses: the top row is red with a red sky, and the bottom row is blue. White check marks overlay the entire image, creating a red and blue contrast with a mix of abstract and realistic elements.
Image: The Spinoff

A new book challenges the left to stop being the parties of ‘no’ and adopt a new type of politics – one that builds. But can anyone in New Zealand politics credibly embrace abundance, or are we doomed to squabble in scarcity for ever? 

For the first time in a long time, being a renter doesn’t have to suck.

RNZ reported recently that Auckland landlords are offering a free week’s rent or food vouchers to entice tenants in. Figures from realestate.co.nz suggest average rents have actually fallen 4% in the year to February. Those numbers are far from agreed upon, and there are still plenty of petty humiliations and insecurity that rental life brings, but the balance does seem to be shifting thanks to a very simple thing: more homes available to rent.

In the five years to 2023 Auckland built 68,800 new dwellings, outstripping its population growth for the first time this century. We are probably not quite at a spot where we can say there are more houses than there are renters to take them, but we may be on our way there. In other words – we may end up with housing abundance.

That word has been heard a bit in the last few weeks. American journalists Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson just released a book with that title which seeks to crystallise and campaign for a new type of somewhat leftwing politics – one that builds. “Yimbyism” for more than just housing, this “supply-side liberalism” would stop the left being the parties of “no” – whether that is no to new housing, no to the possibility of scientific invention getting us out of the climate crisis, or no to public projects that are not rooted in intersectional justice. 

Book cover titled "Abundance" by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson. It features a stylized Earth with half submerged underwater and the other half showing a futuristic cityscape with greenery, wildlife, and birds. The background is olive green.

This is a vision that sets itself against the “degrowth” movement, or anyone that believes that environmental constraints must restrict eternal economic growth. It wants a “left” that builds big but also looks under the hood of why building big has got so hard – eliminating blockages like endless consultation or requirements that disadvantaged groups get better access to contracts. In other words, it wants a left that stops obsessing over process and gets far better at making progress.

New Zealand isn’t mentioned in the book, but perhaps that is because we are about two years ahead of the US, rather than the usual 20 hours. Many New Zealanders don’t know it, but our spurt of housing policies between 2016 and 2020 have become the envy of many across the Anglosphere – from the Auckland Unitary Plan through the National Policy Standard on Urban Development (NPS-UD) to the Medium Density Residential Standards. 

These policies are exactly the kind of thing that Klein and Thompson are calling for: a broad deregulation of the “supply” of housing so far more of it can be built cheaply, bringing things progressives generally want – like cheaper homes in places that don’t require a car – while setting aside smaller concerns like whether you have to cut some trees down to do it. 

Yet as the debates over the fast-track bill and the replacement for the Resource Management Act roll on, the politics of this “abundance” are far from settled. We are nowhere near the utopia they paint at the start of the book, where we all have essentially free electricity, absurdly cheap rent, and cheap weekend holidays anywhere we want. And it’s not clear which party might take us there, or if any single party could.

Are Labour or National the party of abundance?

Abundance’s authors address their book specifically at the Democratic Party in the US. I don’t know if they are aware of either of our Christophers. They do this because that is their own tribe, they don’t believe Republicans really believe in climate change, and they think that Democrats are the ones who have done the most damage to the cause of abundance. 

They argue the environmental laws the Democrats and other left parties around the world fought for in the second half of the 20th century were good at the time, but have over-performed and halted too much building and economic mobility, stopping states like California with total Democratic control from being able to build light rail or enough homes.

This may suggest that the book’s challenge should only really be made to Labour in New Zealand, but I don’t think that is the case.

For one, the US Democratic Party is a ludicrously wide church that could easily fit almost everyone from National as well as Labour inside it. Most National MPs have far more in common with the neoliberal Democrats like Larry Summers of this world than tariff-loving Republicans like Howard Lutnick, and they have for a while now.

For another, the last people to restrict the supply of new housing was the National-led government. Upon coming to power in 2023, the new government immediately destroyed the Medium Density Residential Standards (MDRS), which were set to stop urban councils being able to regulate away dense townhouses across our major cities, by making them “opt in”. This policy was forecast to add 105,000 dwellings in the next 10 years, and had been borne specifically of bipartisan compromise, in a deal that National welched on.

But Labour, opposing the fast-track bill and parts of RMA reform, is hardly able to claim the crown easily either – if indeed the party wanted to.

Local government minister Kieran McAnulty at parliament
Labour’s housing and infrastructure spokesperson Kieran McAnulty (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

Labour’s housing and infrastructure spokesperson Kieran McAnulty had not read the book when I spoke to him, but was aware of the wider arguments. He saw the relevance of the arguments in New Zealand, but cautioned against swallowing them wholesale.

“It is a pretty cynical and simplistic view of politics that says unless you agree with all development at all times you are anti-development,” McAnulty said.

“I struggle with the idea that the left in general doesn’t support things and needs to change. If you look at the last Labour government, no one could credibly say that we weren’t committed to building houses.”

McAnulty moves the conversation away from the word “abundance” into the more regular Kiwi argot of “development”. He says Labour supports development, is happy to be loudly pro-development at things like the recent infrastructure investment summit, and sees the need for lots of projects to get “across the line” – from housing to energy to transport.

He defends Labour’s opposition to the fast-track bill as less one about development and more about the propriety of ministers making the call on individual development, and argued that National had really hurt abundance by cancelling so many projects as it came to government.

Housing and infrastructure minister Chris Bishop, who has the book downloaded on his Kindle but has only read reviews so far, was far more excited to embrace the agenda, which chimes in well with the prime minister’s war on the word “no”.

“It’s impossible to say it’s not positive. It’s clearly positive that people are starting to talk about how we build things, how we get things done, how we get rid of the structural barriers that we’ve built up over the previous decades to getting things done,” Bishop said.

“I think we are advancing the NZ equivalent of an abundance agenda.”

Bishop played down the mangling of the MDRS and says that he is in fact operationalising a lot of the work that Labour housing Minister Phil Twyford set out but didn’t finish. 

“I see my housing reforms as building on what Phil [Twyford] started and was unable to complete. The MDRS was a good-faith, well-intentioned attempt to overlay stuff on the failure of Phil’s policy[…] There will be medium-density zoning in the new RMA. We will set housing targets for our major cities, and that will require the use of standardised zones.”

(A day after Bishop was interviewed for this piece, the NZ Herald revealed that cabinet had blocked his plan to force Auckland Council to zone for 540,000 new homes.)

Housing and infrastructure minister Chris Bishop, left, with prime minister Christopher Luxon at parliament (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

The blind spots of abundance

There are many, many parts of this book that are hard to disagree with. The authors rightly skewer older rich liberals who say they want to support the homeless and fight climate change while refusing to allow new housing to be built. Their argument that liberals are far too obsessed with performing governing legitimacy through consultation and the like, instead of focusing on state capacity, outcomes, and accepting that every regulatory burden does have trade-offs, is well-made.

But their north star of “abundance” brings in so many disparate policy issues that it can become quite a muddle. Is it “scarcity” politics to suggest a small congestion charge instead of endlessly building new lanes for highways, a policy one of the authors supports? It is easy in the abstract to be against the idea of regulatory burdens stopping both the government and private actors doing good things like building houses, but what about when they want to create new coal-fired power plants? What if those burdensome safety regulations stop something like the leaky homes crisis or the UK’s Grenfell Tower fire happening? What if people really do just want their neighbourhoods to never change? 

And for a book about politics, one that stridently dismisses the possibility of degrowth policies ever cutting through, it is one that can seem strikingly disinterested in how political change happens. Klein and Thompson are so confident in the strength of their policy prescription that they don’t seem to anticipate the knee-jerk reactions likely when “abundance” is properly suggested.

One can get a taste for this when looking at the replies to a tweet Bishop made celebrating those cheap Auckland rents. One reply read “You pigs are going to flood us wirh [sic] Indians so all of these will be soaked up soon enough” while another suggested that the government “Better flood in a few hundred thousand Indians to keep those landlords afloat.”

Twitter is not real life, but it is real politics. UK prime minister Keir Starmer’s drive to enact the exact kind of policies that Klein and Thompson are pushing for has been met with huge numbers of people saying the new homes are only needed because of all the immigrants. The UK Tories’ attempts to zone for more houses were consistently defeated by its own MPs. And here in New Zealand, it was the Act Party that managed to kill the MDRS, arguing on behalf of its suburban voters against swathes of new townhouses next door to them. 

In other words, the left may have a lot to answer for when it comes to making things hard to build, but many on the right seem plenty attached to the status quo of scarcity. If you want to build an “abundance” that includes immigrants, as the authors explicitly do, how exactly do you get political consensus for that in political cultures where many people will immediately blame immigrants for any change they don’t like?

The authors posit that abundance will fix these “scarcity” politics – that once we all start getting richer and our lives start getting better, we will relax a bit about the pace of change. But a cursory glance at the last time the world was getting materially better every few years in the mid-20th century doesn’t exactly remind one of a post-racist utopia.

Beating the clock

Then there’s actually getting there. The planning law changes of today do not result in decreased houses tomorrow. Indeed, we are probably just now seeing the effects of the Auckland Unitary Plan, which became operative in 2016. How do you win fights today that will result in more road cones and disruption tomorrow for a possibility of a better world in half a decade’s time? This is not easy, as the New Zealand experience has shown.

Another issue is the zero-sum nature of physical reality. There is no version of light rail in our major cities that does not require removing a parking lane or two, thanks to the brute physical reality of our strange geography and the buildings that already exist. New energy infrastructure will always ruin someone’s untouched vista. Doing almost anything requires ruining an “abundance” of things that some voters quite like – car parks outside their favourite shops, views without windmills – and the fruits of your new abundance may be quite some time away.

There are other rich countries where it is far cheaper and faster to build housing and major infrastructure projects than it is in the US and New Zealand – France, Spain, and across East Asia. But they don’t speak English so we never seem to steal their ideas.

McAnulty and Bishop both agree that things cost too much to build here, but a clear way to fix that is not exactly obvious. McAnulty points to moves the last government was making on building supplies. Bishop says the business case study industry has grown into a monster and is now slowing things down too much, and anything that takes longer naturally becomes more expensive. McAnulty argues Bishop’s government has cancelled too many projects, leading to construction workers going abroad; Bishop says most of the cancelled projects weren’t very close to happening anyway. Both agree bipartisanship is needed here – which explains the seemingly genuine effort to get bipartisan sections of the new RMA hammered out, as well as singing from a similar song sheet on investment.

‘Help keep The Spinoff funny, smart, tall and handsome – become a member today.’
Gabi Lardies
— Staff writer

Then, New Zealand is not a two-party state. Just as the Act Party forced the National Party to ditch its support for the MDRS, it’s fairly easy to imagine the Green Party or Te Pāti Māori adding new procurement rules for public projects once in government that slow things down. There may be a good theoretical case against these add-ons, but politics is not built in theory, it’s built by pounding the streets, knocking on doors, and listening to people complain about things. 

Does this mean abundance is doomed in New Zealand? Of course not. The National Party spent nine years failing to reform the RMA last time it was in power, and seems a lot more serious about it now. Labour did more on housing than any other government had in decades. The energy from young people of all stripes to do basically anything to fix the housing crisis is clearly having an outsize effect on the most innovative brains in our major political parties.

But there is no big red button labelled “abundance” to press. The journey there would be messy and divisive and earn you plenty of nasty front pages. By the time you saw any results you could well be tossed from office, and teasing out if your reforms really did the nice new thing would be an endless item of debate. I guess there’s a reason most of us don’t become politicians. 

Keep going!
Ali Mau’s memoir, No Words for This, is a brave, generous and compelling read.
Ali Mau’s memoir, No Words for This, is a brave, generous and compelling read.

BooksApril 1, 2025

‘Gripping, revelatory, generous and layered’: No Words for This by Ali Mau, reviewed

Ali Mau’s memoir, No Words for This, is a brave, generous and compelling read.
Ali Mau’s memoir, No Words for This, is a brave, generous and compelling read.

Claire Mabey and Alex Casey discuss Ali Mau’s memoir, No Words for This, which is released today.

This review discusses sexual abuse and includes details from throughout the book, including new information.

Claire Mabey: Alex, we’ve both read No Words for This by Ali Mau – I’d love to start by asking you for your overall impression of the book as a reading experience?

Alex Casey: Claire, there are so many things in this world demanding that one puts a book down as soon as one picks a book up. I hoovered No Words for This up over a weekend, proper late nights with my bedside lamp tilted downwards so as to not wake up my husband type stuff. It should probably come as no surprise, given that her career is built on words, but Mau reveals new depths to her writing talent here. She paints vivid scenes of acid-green tree frogs stuck to windows at a horsey homestead, but then just as easily will pull the rug out from under you with the single most shocking and stark family revelation you can possibly imagine. I gasped, out loud, multiple times. 

CM: I also couldn’t put this book down. And it’s haunted me since I finished it. To set it up a bit for readers: the book starts off with a prologue that indicates that this memoir is going to delve into family secrets, but you don’t know from the start just how devastating those secrets will be.

Mau begins with her childhood and runs through chronologically from there, but there is a foreboding throughout which comes to fruition in the later chapters, as a story of abuse surfaces. Which is where we need to say to readers – please take care because a major component of Mau’s story is that she is a survivor of sexual abuse perpetrated by her father. The book shows how complex it is to navigate trauma when multiple parts of a person have to be at work at once. For example, there is a scene where Mau describes that while her ageing mother is ill and in hospital her father tries to extract forgiveness from her: the deft writing shows how Mau’s daughter-of-ageing-mother-self, survivor-self, and journalist-self are all having to negotiate the situation all at the same time.

The memoir compartmentalises the abuse storyline by using pages in a different font and with a grey background – almost like files – a structure that shows how profound the experience is for Mau and her family, and how hard it is to weave into the story of her life at large.

But many people will come to this memoir because they know Mau from the TV. As someone who has spoken with Mau before, Alex, did you find what you expected in the book in terms of her career as a journalist and a leading voice in reporting cases of abuse and the voices of survivors? 

AC: Even before we got to the #MeTooNZ part of the book, I was really impressed with Mau’s frankness around how being a journalist can be really fucking hard work. That expectation of the old-fashioned hard-nosed, cut-throat emotionless reporter (embodied in her own father) is a really harmful one, and every time a journalist says “this was a really hard story and I cried a lot afterwards” it lifts a tremendous weight off all our shoulders and allows us all to be a bit more human. She talks about being in Christchurch immediately after the earthquakes and sobbing while walking through the red zone sludge back to the TVNZ car: “I morphed between being a journalist and a human being in those few days,” she writes. “In the aftermath, a new set of beliefs about my craft and its potential for good had formed.”

Knowing this hero origin story, getting to #MeTooNZ also contained heaps of crucial process details that I’m so glad have been laid bare publicly. People don’t see the hours of invisible pastoral care that go into writing these investigations, or the tense and expensive legal back and forths and bone-chilling defamation letters. They also definitely wouldn’t know the levels of vitriol and abuse that can get silently absorbed in the process. I had completely forgotten about that godawful witch hunt cartoon which was published after Mau announced the project, and the panic from certain male commentators that every man and his dog was suddenly going to be front page news for wolf-whistling. I’d like to say we’ve moved on as a society by now, but I truly shudder to think what launching a project like that would look like in 2025. 

CM: I found Mau’s whole career a troubling account of a woman in the media who has had to weather stunning amounts of misogyny just to do her job. Mau describes her first jobs in Australia which came with chauvinistic bosses demanding she ask a female athlete about a boob job, and harassing women reporters about their clothing choices. And Mau always comes back to her journalist father and his arrogance and bullying. Mau has come through so much it really is devastating that in 2025 we can’t be confident that conditions are any safer. 

One media moment in the book that stood out for me was in 2010 when Mau was asked to fill in for Paul Henry on TVNZ’s Breakfast show. It was the first time two women (Pippa Wetzel was Henry’s co-host at the time) were fronting the show. Mau describes how she’d just been subject to The Edge’s Dom Harvey’s derogatory rap song about her (to the tune of Single Ladies by Beyoncé) and paparazzi scooping photos of her that were published in Women’s Day. Mau decided to use the spot on Breakfast to ask when it all was going to stop. She describes how she talked for three minutes, which she explains is a long time in TV, and how she was “shaking with fear and exhilaration”. 

A screenshot of Ali Mau and Pippa Wetzel co-hosting Breakfast in 2010.
A screenshot of Ali Mau and Pippa Wetzel co-hosting Breakfast in 2010.

AC: I also really loved that part where she had her Network moment on Breakfast too! She’s mad as hell and she’s not going to take it any more! It was also just one of the many excellent examples in the book where Mau, in both her personal and professional life, still somehow managed to be so controlled and gracious in a situation where she had every right to scream at the top of her lungs and throw some furniture around. But also, at the risk of sounding like the very same gossip columnist scum who hid in the bushes and set up camp on her doorstep, I have to admit that I also relished in reading about her and Simon Dallow’s meet-cute on a Contiki, and her eventually stalking him down by using the phone book (!!) and leaving a message with his flatmate (“almost certainly his wife, I thought in panic”). 

CM: I’m also scummy because I enjoyed that part and the nostalgia that came with reading about travel back then: Contiki surely must have facilitated many, many relationships. In the book Mau describes her marriage to Dallow like this: “I think of my marriage to Simon like a superyacht: sleek and gleaming, every stainless cleat polished, every rope tidily coiled. A casual observer, lacing their boat shoes on the dock, might look up and think, Now there’s a handsome vessel! Must be a good time aboard that beauty! Even the water this ship sits upon is calm, nary a ripple bothering its shining surface. But below the waterline, unseen, there is a breach, a hole too tiny to notice.”

A blurry Simon Dallow and Alison Mau present One News in the late 1990s.

Mau doesn’t go into great detail into her and Dallow’s separation but it’s extraordinary to read how their private and working lives were so entwined and how they had to disentangle so publicly (they co-presented One News from 1999–2003). The refrain that really got me though, in terms of Mau’s career (which from the outside could also be described as a shiny yacht) is the fact that she has been fired five times from various media roles. It was sobering to read such volatility in 2025 when the media feels more fragile than ever. And in light of that, truly impressive to read how Mau persevered and went on to make a huge difference to what journalism has been able to do in Aotearoa. I found myself cheering when she described winning Reporter of the Year at the Voyager Media Awards in 2021.

AC: I also respected how she gives credit where credit is due, but also isn’t afraid to name people and organisations in the industry who have let her down. In one instance, Mau talks about getting a flurry of interview requests following Rebel Wilson’s outing by the Sydney Morning Herald, with many local journalists drawing parallels with the women’s mags outing her in the early days of her relationship with Karleen. She talks about the stress of having that chapter in her life all brought up again, and how it feels to be on the other end of media inquiries when you don’t get a follow-up or update, or any of that same sort of care she gave to so many. Definitely cause for reflection and a reminder, as in so many parts of this book, that just because someone is famous it doesn’t make them less of a human being. 

‘Help keep The Spinoff funny, smart, tall and handsome – become a member today.’
Gabi Lardies
— Staff writer

CM: Maybe we need to point out that the memoir isn’t all bleak despite the challenging aspects of Mau’s life. There’s a real energy throughout the book and Mau’s many adventures. The descriptions of falling in love with Karleen are beautiful, as is their separation, and eventual reuniting thanks to Covid (they formed a bubble and that enabled them to get closer again in a way that Mau describes as an even deeper love that surprised her). 

One passage I loved the most was when young, horse-mad Mau is taken to the outback for a whole summer to ride horses with her cousins. She describes wild days of riding, and adventuring and freedom. It’s truly magical to read: you get a sense of the young girl discovering a whole alternative way of life that is far away from the oppressive presence of her father, and the sadness of her mother (we learn very early in the book that Mau’s mother wanted to return to England and leave their father, and tried, but was told to get back on the boat to Australia by her own mother).

AC: And without spoiling it too much (can you spoil a memoir?) there’s a beautiful parallel to be found as Mau eventually finds her cosy nest on the West Coast, with a pony of her own and the love of her life, after weathering many, many storms. 

CM: That’s a lovely place to leave Ali Mau. One last question for the readers: would you recommend this memoir?

AC: We’re writing this on a Monday morning and I don’t have the words right now to quite sum up just how gripping, revelatory, generous and layered this book is. So I’ll just say this: yes. 

No Words for This by Ali Mau ($40, HarperCollins NZ) is available to purchase from Unity Books.