The man who took on Christopher Luxon speaks on The Spinoff politics podcast, Gone By Lunchtime.

Nine days ago, Chris Penk was identified as the single rogue element, the solo-coup-mounter within the National Party caucus. Christopher Luxon announced that, having called a confidence vote in the leader at that emergency meeting, Penk the insurrectionist had been sacked as a minister. Within hours, Penk said he would not be standing again in his Kaipara ki Mahurangi electorate.

What has he been doing since that fateful day? 

“I’ve been doing sort of baby-yak-like activities,” the former minister said on The Spinoff politics podcast, Gone By Lunchtime, with a nod to arguably New Zealand’s greatest story of post-politics serenity, that of former National Party leader Simon Bridges. 

“For example, I’ve dropped off the kids at school and kindy more times in the last week than I think I had in the couple of months prior. So, you know, silver linings and clouds and all that.”

Asked whether he had been loaned a yak by Bridges, Penk said: “I haven’t had a yack with Simon, so to speak. But I’ve bumped into him around the place over the last few years, so we’ll have to catch up at some point.”

When the video feed failed on the podcast, Penk said not to worry: “I’m actually in disguise anyway. I’ve been rocking a big false moustache in the last week.”

Across the term of parliament, was there anything that stood out for him as particularly momentous? “I take it you’re you’re you’re alluding to the work that I led as minister for Land Information,” he said. “I know that’s been on everyone’s lips. So I’m happy to join you today on the pod and talk a bit more about that.”

When pressed on whether he pursued those Public Works Act changes, such as streamlining the role of the Environment Court in objection procedures for designated critical infrastructure, alone, or whether he was working on behalf of a larger group of people, Penk said: “Well, it’s always important to understand in any change process that if you work alongside others, as everyone understands each other and is on the same page, then then you get a good result. So that was certainly the case in the Public Works Act reform. So a valuable exercise, and I think we’ve ended up with a faster and a fairer process.”

Had he been confident he would have the numbers to get those changes to the Public Works Act through?

“I was confident from the start that there would be good, broad support, and so it proved,” Penk told Gone By Lunchtime. “And, you know, the results are not always what you expect, but certainly in the time since then, it’s appeared to me to be a good decision.”

Under further questioning, Penk did acknowledge there was an “elephant in the room”.

He elaborated: “Which of course is the events of last week, when my Twitter account was hacked… That is genuinely unconnected with any other events that may have taken place, by which of course I refer to the Warriors’ big win over the Broncos.”

Having published in 2020 an e-book critiquing the Covid lockdown, was he now writing another book? “I’m not. Although it’s not a bad idea. I mean, maybe it is a bad idea,” he said.

“I’ve had a few conversations with people where I’ve been encouraged to tell a story, let’s just say, in the last couple of weeks. But I think the best thing is that I give everyone a bit of space, including myself, from the hurly-burly of political life.”

Penk remained committed to his electorate for the time that remained, he said, adding: “I’ll be back in parliament next week. I’m not shying away entirely from what is still the day job for the next 78 days. Not that anyone’s counting.”

What’s scarier: having 11 new taxes, having 11 portfolios, or having to remove a member’s bill at the 11th hour?

The troops may be tired and the headlines may be hostile, but the fight to win election 2026 is not yet lost. As the National caucus returned to parliament’s battleground this week, they had a new beat to march too, piped in directly from Simeon Brown’s office, level 6, the Beehive: tax, tax, tax, tax.

During Tuesday’s question time session, taxes were mentioned more than 40 times by the prime minister and his ministers. It began off the bat during the first oral question to Christopher Luxon from Chris Hipkins, with the Labour leader quizzing Luxon on the price of bread. “Well, 600g of white bread [is] about $2.20 today,” the PM responded. Well, Luxon’s right if he’s talking about the cheapest of cheap bread – but he seems more of a Vogel’s man, doesn’t he?

New mega minister Paul Goldsmith – who now holds a whopping 11 portfolios after Chris Penk’s removal from cabinet – was quick to his feet following a patsy question from colleague Nancy Lu. No, Goldsmith declared, the government is not considering implementing a streaming tax. “You don’t do anything anyway, Goldie,” grumbled Labour MP Willie Jackson from his bench. In an unfortunate turn of events for Jackson, Goldsmith made sure to mention that the member’s Broadcasting (Commercial Video On-Demand Levy) Amendment Bill – which proposed a levy on streaming services to fund local productions – had been removed from the parliament website that morning.

Next, the House moved onto an urgent debate on Penk’s sacking, called for by Hipkins. But National was keen to look elsewhere, with Brown making sure to mention the taxes allegedly looming if the left bloc is able to form a government 19 times. “They’re trying to hide and talk about anything else,” said Brown – not of his own party, but of Labour.

Afterwards, two big bills passed third readings. The first was Te Here ā Nuku (Nelson Tenths) Bill, which will return 7,500 acres of land to Te Tauihu Māori and provide $420 million in compensation. And the second was the Climate Change Response (Tort Liability) Amendment Bill – made famous by a few disappearing documents – that prevents companies from being subjected to lawsuits for their climate emissions.

MPs returned to the House for Wednesday’s question time to lob barbs across the aisle. And while party matters are typically safe from question time scrutiny, Hipkins tested his luck trying to get more out of the prime minister on Penk’s sacking – but specific questions about education minister Erica Stanford’s involvement in the failed coup saw his line of questioning shut down. 

Hipkins’ deputy Carmel Sepuloni did manage to embarrass the National benches, however. Her line of questioning led women’s minister Nicola Grigg to boldly declare “we will continue to invest in initiatives that support women’s leadership”. Sitting in front of Grigg and leaning over her seat to watch the minister with wide eyes was Stanford. It was only last week that she was described by Grigg as being a good friend, “but not a prime minister” – a girlboss sadly cut down a size by another.

Later, the mega minister was back again. This time, it was Banks Peninsula MP Vanessa Weenink who was given the honour of asking Goldsmith whether he would be introducing a streaming levy. As already established yesterday, the answer was a resounding “NO”. So what will the government do to support local content instead, asked Weenink.

Jackson’s response was quicker than the minister’s: “Nothing!”

Next came general debates, where all five National MPs who had risen to speak talking about tax. “We say no to Labour’s taxes,” declared Brown. “Tax, tax and more tax,” sang National backbencher Catherine Wedd. “Tax, tax, tax,” cried Carl Bates. Their battle cry echoed across the parliamentary jungle, but the soldiers on the red team seemed more bored than afraid.

Afterwards, the first of what will be a swathe of valedictory speeches in the lead-up to the election took place. Labour MP Duncan Webb bade goodbye to the halls of power – there’s only one ideal way to properly leave parliament, Webb acknowledged, “which is by choice”. He gave a special thanks to the media – though only veteran gallery reporter Audrey Young was around to hear it in person – and recalled the first sign that his career was “on the slide”. “Luke Malpass did one of his ‘how ministers are doing’, and he said, ‘and then there’s Duncan Webb – affable and competent’,” Webb sighed. “Damned by faint praise.”

By Thursday, the weight of all 11 of his portfolios seemed to be getting to Goldsmith. Those late nights spent being yelled at by Winston Peters and the seven cups of coffee in the morning were clearly scrambling Goldie’s brain. Presumably, anyway – it would be the only explanation as to why, for the third day in a row, he was made to stand in question time and promise no new streaming levy.

The troops stood down for the week. The boots on the ground had won the battle: Netflix was safe.

The top 10 sales lists recorded every week at Unity Books’ stores in High St, Auckland, and Willis St, Wellington.

AUCKLAND

3 Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke (Fourth Estate, $37)

4 London Falling by Patrick Radden Keefe (Picador, $40)

5 Stakes: A Memoir by Noelle McCarthy (Penguin, $40) 

“In Stakes Noelle McCarthy writes her heart out to the thrum of Dracula in her veins and I am obsessed.” Read the rest of The Spinoff’s books editor Claire Mabey’s review, right here.

6 The Correspondent by Virginia Evans (Michael Joseph, $28)

7 Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout (Viking Penguin, $38) 

8 Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman (Michael Joseph, $38)

“For the uninitiated, a dungeon crawler is a game in which the player progresses through a series of contained and increasingly difficult levels by defeating enemies, solving puzzles, and gathering loot. Carl, the narrator of Dinniman’s series, finds himself plunged into a real-life version of such a game after aliens wipe out most of Earth’s population and repurpose the planet into a massive game dungeon, forcing the survivors to fight their way through it for the amusement of an intergalactic television audience of trillions. At the time of the invasion, Carl, a U.S. Coast Guard veteran, was standing outside his Seattle home in the middle of the night, trying to coax his ex-girlfriend’s cat, Princess Donut, out of a tree, and wearing only heart-patterned boxer shorts and a leather jacket. Over the course of the series, Donut will acquire the ability to talk, reason, and shoot deadly laser missiles from her eyes, but Carl will never get shoes or trousers.” Read the rest of Laura Miller’s review on Slate, here.

9 Ōtepoti Dunedin Architecture: A Walking Guide by John Walsh and Patrick Reynolds (Massey University Press, $40)

Gorgeous guide reviewed on The Spinoff, here.

10 Sophie, Standing There by Meg Mason (Fourth Estate, $33)

Including, yes, people still wear sunglasses inside, shorts and ruffles are having a moment, and much more. Emma Gleason reports from Shed 10 in Auckland.

1. New Zealand fashion appears to be alive and well.

If you’re doing a pulse check on the local industry you could start with the gobsmacking number of designers involved in this year’s fashion week. By my estimates more than 180, most of them local, showed their wares in one form or another.

2. New Zealand Order of Merit medals make good accessories.

Both Doris de Pont and Rosanna Raymond wore theirs (slay) during the opening night show, The Art of Fashion. Directed by Dan Ahwa, it melded vintage and contemporary fashion with art objects, millinery and pieces from the archives of the New Zealand Opera and Royal New Zealand Ballet for a moving reflection on the state of dress in Aotearoa.

3. Designers (and organisers) have been looking abroad.

Although fashion week was reliably patriotic there was an international flavour to this year’s event that suggests the industry is looking overseas for inspiration, markets and skills. Yes, we’re an island at the bottom of the world with constrained manufacturing and customers, but we’re part of this global industry too, dammit. Pitching New Zealand labels abroad was a popular strategy from the early 2000s, but in 2026 global thinking looks more like an exchange of ideas than chasing wholesale accounts in Europe.

Kāhui Collective, the group show helmed by Kiri Nathan, featured designers from Taiwan, Alaska and Fiji. Nathan also connected makers from around the world at the first New Zealand Indigenous Fashion Symposium on Tuesday. Panel discussions unpacked everything from trade and growth to intellectual property. It’s a landmark event on the schedule, one that captures the shifting purpose of NZFW, which is no longer a closed-off trade show. As with many of the week’s shows, tickets were available and there was a retail element to the collective’s programming, with garments for sale at The Cloud and Te Pā, Nathan’s Glen Innes fashion hub.

Guests at China Now experienced work from Chinese brands Gu Axin J by HO, while Khadi Beyond Borders showcased work from Indian designers Rajesh Pratap Singh, Shruti Sancheti, Samant Chauhan and Pawan Sachdeva. To put that show in context, NZFW signed a “memorandum of understanding” with the Fashion Design Council of India in 2025. Christopher Luxon was there and has described New Zealand’s “global reputation across fashion and the creative arts” as “growing”. (And he knows growth.)

Our design talent often heads abroad seeking just that. Some come back. Claudia Li presented a tribute to New York, where the New Zealand designer founded her eponymous brand. The show was held in a part of Auckland commonly used as a stand in for “cities abroad”. Under the crown moulding of the Northern Club, guests (me) contemplated the practicality of pistachio silk taffeta and feathered footwear for navigating the CRL (worth it).

Karen Walker had her eyes elsewhere too. Her show The Grand Tour was inspired by the tradition of rich aristocrats traipsing around Europe in the 1600s-1800s to absorb “culture”. For us that meant 80 models dashing through Auckland Art Gallery – past works by Fatu Feu’u and Rita Angus – dressed in combinations of Walker’s eponymous brand, Levi’s and Adidas. It had all the chaos of a photogenic piazza during peak tourist season, which was the whole point.

4. Fashion people love coats. And hats.

And jackets trimmed with something that came off an animal. There was more of that than I expected.

5. The milestones felt significant.

Nora Swann’s group show Pacific Fusion is marking its 10th year. NOM*d is 40. Wellington brand Twenty-seven Names was back on the schedule too, celebrating turning 20 with its first fashion week show in eight years. Models dressed in bubble-hem skirts and crisp satin carried books and, for the finale, diplomas. Some wore robes and mortarboards as Sean Paul blasted out the speakers. Rachel Easting said that after two decades in business, she and co-founder Anjali Stewart felt like they were finally graduating into adult life. “Maybe we’ve made it.” They gave guests a prospectus that outlined a syllabus of classics (“go hard or go Homer”) and ethics (“I shop therefore I am”). Full marks.

6. Audiences are getting louder.

People cheer now! Goodbye po-faced expressions, hello celebration. There were whistles, cheers, chahoos and even one “yes bitch”, uttered by comedian Johanna Cosgrove.

7. There’s more media coverage than you can follow.

Everyone’s doing it. Brands make their own content now and so do model agencies. NZFW even has its own robust self-owned media strategy, no longer relying solely on third-party outlets like newspapers and websites. But they were there, of course. Fashion Quarterly, which has been covering the event since its launch in 2001, had eight people on the ground this year, but other titles sent fewer staffers.

Delegate registrations of all varieties increased in 2026. This year counts seven internationals, 28 media, 19 KOLs (“key opinion leaders”, which is the latest evolution of content creators), 87 industry and 24 photographers. Media delegates still outnumber KOLs, but those are as valued as traditional media and, some might argue, more influential. Joining local creators like Jess Molina and Zeenat Wilkinson this year was Australian influencer Sophia Begg (AKA Sopha Dopha), who boasts 791,000 followers on Instagram.

Molina describes the job as a “privilege”. She feels a sense of responsibility to share her experience and perspective for her highly engaged followers, who love the coverage. “Every time fashion week rolls around, I really reflect on the small part I play in this ecosystem.”

8. Street style is still a whole thing.

Good weather nourished a bumper crop of activity outside Shed 10 this week. Guests mingled, photographers circled and tiny mics were myriad. It’s all “mildly chaotic”, according to Felix Jackson, who has been shooting street style at fashion week for three years. He can tell when someone wants their picture taken; they’ll dawdle or look out into the distance. “Or they kind of hold themselves in a way that’s very pose-ready.” He’s more than happy to oblige. “You’re here to stunt,” Jackson explains, between shots. “So I will gladly take your photo.”

Street style content performs better than runway reviews for Fashion Quarterly because it gets way more engagement, explains editor Sarah Murray. “People often like and share the street style imagery, and are interested in what everyone is wearing,” she adds. 

Street style is a huge part of NZFW, says stylist Sammy Salsa (who is popular with the photographers), but it can overshadow the shows. Critical of relying on borrowed clothes, he prefers to dress himself. “I’m not a scab.” Salsa says he makes a point of financially supporting local brands and bought a Zambesi outfit to wear to their show today. “I come from nothing so I know what it’s like to not have anything.”

9. Fashion week is part of Auckland.

Located primarily at Shed 10 downtown means the event rubs up against commuters, high school students playing basketball and men wearing high vis. Michael Allen is one of them. He’s working on the electrified ferry upgrade of Queens Wharf and this is the second fashion week his team’s witnessed first hand. “We love it,” Allen said. “It’s nice to see some events. I actually had a tour this morning.”

Zambesi’s magnificent harbourside show on Friday morning drew a large crowd, predictably dressed in mostly black, including Auckland mayor Wayne Brown. He wasn’t just there for the fashion (though did look good in a turtleneck and suit). Brown has known the Findlay family for years. “I’m here as much as a friend as a fashionista,” he told The Spinoff, adding that he and Zambesi co-founder Neville Findlay go back 50 years. Brown is into the fashion too though. “It’s part of our economy and it’s wonderful.”

10. People still wear sunglasses inside.

The bigger the better, even in the dark. I guess it’s good because no one knows where you’re looking. Maybe you’re just dissociating. Instead, you could talk to your seat neighbour about your busy schedule (but not as busy as Paul Goldsmith) and whether you’ll catch the flu. Is there a valid excuse for dark eyewear? Does it even matter? Apparel editor Caitlin Mitchell, seated front row, was quick to point out her sunglasses were prescription.

11. Our runway diversity is better than most.

Much has been made of the shrinking runways overseas and Ozempification of fashion, but the same can’t be said for NZFW. We saw bodies of all sizes on the runway, pension-aged models and racial diversity. Did it feel tokenistic or performative? Actually, no.

12. Guests use their phones, a lot.

For photos of the show, photos outside the show, photos of anything and everything. For vox pops and selfies and reels and vignettes. For capturing Claudia Li’s embellished corduroy coat or actor Thomasin McKenzie at Karen Walker. For pretending to be busy if you have no one to talk to. To write notes about “hot pants” and “pirates” and “capris”. For Google-mapping the distance between Hotel Britomart and Durham Lane (it was 10 minutes’ walking but we made it in six). For finding your e-ticket, which I’m sure is here somewhere.

13. It’s time to dress up.

Rather than compete with athleisure and streetwear brands, it seems designers have realised they need to establish a point of difference. Clothes were markedly more formal this year. Think suiting, silks, lace, embellishment and other things you’ll probably-definitely need to hand wash.

14. Public shows work. So do ticket sales.

Everyone’s finally accepted it. Long gone are the days of industry-only shows and public-facing “‘fashion weekends”’. Instead, customers and fans mingle with media and buyers. This year most shows were ticketed, including Juliette Hogan. Her customers “got on board almost immediately” and the event sold out early. “Which we don’t take for granted,” she says. Although this doesn’t change the brand’s ability to do a show, she explains, tickets have made it more accessible for its audience. 

Ticketing also dismantles a barrier to entry for brands. “NZFW removed the participation fee designers used to pay to take part,” Hogan explained. Instead, a set number of seats in each show are allocated to them to sell. “It’s a shift that puts more of the risk on fashion week, and it makes a real difference to designers.”

Fashion weeks are “incredibly expensive and difficult to pull off” according to Australian journalist Patty Huntington, someone who’s well versed in the format. Ticket sales generally account for a small revenue stream, but what they do accomplish is interest and support. “It’s a way of getting the public on board.”

We saw that this week, as a diverse range of ticketholders came down to Shed 10. There were high school students in the audience at The Graduate Show on Wednesday, where they saw work from Whitecliffe, Massey and Otago Polytechnic. Many of them wore striped school blazers and so did I (embarrassing).

People show up. The Keep’s exhibition The Collar drew well-dressed throngs of ticket buyers (and a different crowd to Shed 10) to Karangahape Road.

15. Shorts are a garment of national significance (but all the blokes who wear them in the dead of winter already knew that).

They appeared in Almost. Every. Show. 

16. So did ruffles, bows and knee-length skirts.

Fashion week is heavily womenswear focused. Sorry lads.

17. Emerging designers commanded a lot of attention.

The event functions as an incubator, and an important one at that. The Graduate Show showcased design students and their ambitious ideas. It’s reliably one of the most boundary pushing of the week’s events; where else are you going to see leather chain mail, a “resist Putin” T-shirt or a corset referencing the bombing of Hanoi?

Small brands benefit from group shows like Pacific Fusion, The Future of Fashion, Kāhui Collective and The Studio. That show focuses on “early-career designers who have established a reputation in the market” but might not have the resources or capacity to produce a solo show, explains creative director Dan Ahwa. “Some are relatively new, while others have been steadily building their businesses for a decade.” The hope is that they gain runway experience and create content to support their marketing throughout the year. “And connect directly with customers, industry and potential stockists.” (Because at the end of the day, fashion is a business.)

18. So did the establishment.

Zambesi and NOM*d have been showing at fashion week for decades and both were on the schedule this week. NOM*d’s range, its 81st, was full of fresh ideas – and colour – including a stylish riff on the classic striped polyprop (someone alert Shanti Mathias). Zambesi broke with its after-dark tradition and held a morning show for the first time. It’s reliably the highlight each year. “Designers of that generation are still doing the coolest shows of the week,” said Patty Huntington. “It’s really quite unique.”

Both brands and many others in the schedule, including Penny Sage and Twenty-seven Names, still manufacture locally, even as costs rise and resources shrink. So do many small labels.

19. Everyone’s been wondering what clothes are for.

Are they for Instagram? The algorithm? Has that distracted us from their purpose (clothing our bodies) and pleasure (moving through the city as living, breathing human being). Does it even matter? And who’s going to buy them?

20. And whether fashion is art.

That was the premise of opening night. It was discussed front row and backstage through the week, debated in blogs and DMs. The industry has been looking for the answer. Maybe they found it. Or maybe the searching is the point.

From actors to activists, scientists to storytellers, this year’s YWCA Y25 list celebrates some of Aotearoa’s most inspirational young people.

Illustrations by Te Atarua Davis (Waikato-Tainui). 

Across Aotearoa, young women and gender-diverse people are doing extraordinary things. They’re leading climate action, championing Māori and Pacific communities, advocating for mental health and hauora, and reimagining what leadership can look like.

It’s these changemakers that Y25 celebrates. Now in its seventh year, the programme, developed by YWCA Tāmaki Makaurau, recognises young women and gender-diverse people aged 15 to 25 who are challenging inequity and building stronger communities. This year’s cohort was selected from more than 165 nominations and includes advocates, artists, entrepreneurs, scientists, storytellers, medical professionals, environmentalists and community organisers, with mahi spanning climate action, LGBTQIA+ advocacy, kaupapa Māori design, STEM, rural leadership and sport science.

“At a time when many young people are navigating uncertainty, these changemakers remind us what hope looks like,” says YWCA Tāmaki Makaurau chief executive Teresa Tepania-Ashton. “Y25 exists because we believe in the power, brilliance and leadership of young wāhine and gender-diverse rangatahi to shape a more equitable future. This kaupapa is not simply about individual success, it is about nurturing collective transformation.”

YWCA Tāmaki Makaurau youth engagement manager Vira Paky agrees: “Together, the recipients form a diverse community of young leaders across different experiences, who share a strong commitment to making the world better.”

Each year, the Y25 provides a six-month leadership programme offering mentoring, professional development and wellbeing support. They also become part of a growing alumni network, creating lifelong connections with young changemakers throughout Aotearoa.

Meet the 2026 Y25 recipients below.

Abby Golden, 25, ICU nurse and rangatahi champion, Ōtepoti (she/her)

Abby is passionate about helping people recognise their potential to create change. Raised in a small town, she never saw herself as a leader. Becoming involved with the anti-bullying charity Sticks ‘n Stones, she realised the importance of giving rangatahi tools to take action themselves. A passionate advocate for youth voice in governance, she works to create opportunities for youth to influence decision-making. She co-founded Te Ara Tīrama Charitable Trust, an initiative connecting rangatahi across Aotearoa through co-designed online learning. Abby is also a registered ICU nurse, caring for critically unwell patients and families through their most difficult days, demanding immense compassion and resilience.

Words of wisdom: “The most lasting impact we can have is not through what we achieve, but through how deeply we make people feel seen, valued, and cared for.”

Alesha O’Connor, 23, wearable art designer, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

After surviving a devastating house fire and enduring profound loss, Alesha turned to design as a way to process pain, rebuild identity and reconnect with herself. Now this talented designer uses human-centred design to create bespoke wearable art that transforms how people experience grief, trauma and healing through her social enterprise, To Hold, To Heal, To Protect, To Honour. Guided by manaakitanga, kaitiakitanga, kotahitanga and tikanga, she creates pieces for vulnerable communities and has so far worked with burn survivors, amputees and those navigating child loss. Through 3D scanning, motion capture and welding, she breaks new ground in wearable technology, earning recognition from TEDx, the RED Awards and the Best Awards.

Words of wisdom: “Through every stage of transformation, refuse to let others shape the limits of your becoming.”

Angela Fang, 19, women’s health and safety advocate, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Angela is committed to ensuring no woman navigates inequality alone. She is the founder and chair of Te Puawaitanga Women’s Organisation, where she has led community initiatives addressing domestic abuse, securing over $20,000 in funding. As youth lead for We Are EndoWarriors, she led a national petition gathering 6,000 signatures to address endometriosis and period poverty, helping donate period products and educating students on menstrual health. The University of Auckland law and environmental science student and co-founder of the Auckland Women’s Skate Festival is also a talented writer, winning the Rod Oram Memorial Essay Prize in 2026.

Words of wisdom: “Fortune favours the bold.”

Destiny Te Ao Marama Ruawhare Ruka Harris, 23, taiao regeneration enthusiast and māmā, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/ia (they))

Destiny (Waikato, Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Tūwharetoa) believes teaching whānau to regenerate soil is an act of climate resilience. Their advocacy is informed by lived experience growing up in South and East Auckland with parents who were barely adults themselves, and where poverty and hardship shaped their community. But having a daughter became a turning point to break intergenerational cycles. Guided by te ao Māori, Destiny’s waste regeneration workshops heal people and place while exploring structural causes of equity issues. Having worked as an educator, pest trap technician, kaiawahina and cultural team lead, Destiny believes collective wellbeing is woven through strong communities and healthy whenua. Destiny’s hands are never clean for long, and they prefer it that way.

Words of wisdom: “Don’t wait until you’re ready. Start scared. Start while you’re way over your head!”

Elsie Polosovai, 25, creative, advocate and Solomon Islands cultural ambassador, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

At the 2025 Miss Pacific Islands pageant, Elsie delivered a live science experiment to inspire Pacific girls to see themselves in STEM. Graduating with a Bachelor of Science in human nutrition from the University of Otago, she is a passionate advocate for Pacific health. As Miss Solomon Islands cultural ambassador 2024–2025, Elsie has used platforms across the Pacific to champion women’s health and Pacific women’s experiences. She also fiercely challenges colourism faced by Melanesian women in international and Pacific spaces, speaking openly about how post-colonial ideals shape unrealistic beauty standards. Alongside health advocacy, Elsie is a developing actor, balancing auditions and film projects with her work in the community.

Words of wisdom: “You don’t need to have all the answers now; some experiences are just seeds that will make sense later.”

Faiesea Ah Chee, 23, Pasifika climate activist, educator and youth leader, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Growing up in Savai’i, Samoa, Faiesea developed a deep love for her island, her people and the ocean. Witnessing the impacts of climate change transformed that love into purpose. In 2022, she became the first Pasifika representative from Auckland to attend the C40 World Mayors Summit in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Last year, she proudly represented New Zealand at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, amplifying Pacific voices in global climate discussions. Holding a postgraduate diploma in education from the University of Auckland, today Faiesea is a teacher, inspiring young people to care for their communities, protect the environment and lead with purpose.

Words of wisdom: “The way you treat others, how you listen, and how you show up when things are difficult will shape you more than any achievement ever will.”

Farwa Nabizada, 21, refugee champion and gender equality advocate, Ōtepoti (she/her)

Having fled Afghanistan, Farwa and her family spent four years in Malaysia as refugees before resettling in Aotearoa in 2021. Experiencing displacement shaped her understanding of inequality and the barriers refugee communities face. Farwa supports Afghan women and former refugees, volunteering as a Dari/Persian interpreter and working with Community Law Otago. She participated in the National Refugee Resettlement Forum 2025, as a Youth Representative and works with the Meaningful Refugee Participation programme, using her voice to stand alongside those who are silenced. Today, because of her family’s determination, sacrifice and support, Farwa is studying law and computer science at the University of Otago.

Words of wisdom: “Embrace and love the entirety of yourself, your cultural identity, your hopes and dreams, your achievements, and your mistakes.”

Graeson Papuni-Mclellan, 25, Indigenous wāhine and youth voice champion, Ōpōtiki (she/her)

Graeson grew up surrounded by Māori and Pasifika women who embodied manaakitanga. Aged 10, Graeson (Ngāti Porou, Te Whānau-ā-Apanui, Whakatōhea, Ngāti Pāhauwera, Samoa, Mauke) began her changemaker journey with the Māori Women’s Welfare League (MWWL), learning that leadership is grounded in service, responsibility and creating pathways for those who follow. She established MWWL’s first youth membership and was elected its inaugural youth representative in 2025. She presented evidence for the Mana Wāhine claim and represented MWWL at the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women. Navigating invisible disabilities, Graeson continues to advance Indigenous youth governance and advocate for rangatahi voices.

Words of wisdom: “Stand grounded in who you are. And if you’re still finding your way, look to your whenua, your whānau, your tīpuna, and the quiet voice within.”

Jade Nomani, 20, youth and social justice activist, Ōtepoti (she/her)

In 2023, Jade travelled to Timor-Leste, witnessing the impacts of climate change and food insecurity firsthand. Inspired by the resilience of local communities, she returned to Aotearoa and became one of four full-time youth ambassadors for World Vision New Zealand, supporting the national 40 Hour Challenge, which raised more than $900,000. Grounded in faith and culture, Jade delivered leadership workshops to students across New Zealand and Australia for the Youth Impact Foundation and represented Aotearoa as the sole New Zealand delegate at the National Leadership Forum in Canberra. Currently studying exercise and sports science at the University of Otago, she hopes to use sport for youth development and positive change.

Words of wisdom: “O le ala i le pule o le tautua – The pathway to leadership is through service.”

Jodie Rameka, 25, community advocate, Whangārei (she/her)

Jodie spent much of her life involved in Whangārei through volunteering, advocacy, and local initiatives. She is passionate about supporting people, creating opportunities and helping make Whangārei a better place for everyone. Over the years, she has worked alongside community groups, governance boards and local and central government to raise awareness of local issues, encourage community conversations and help create better outcomes for the people of Whangārei.

Words of wisdom: “It’s okay to be scared, nervous, and unsure of yourself. It’s okay to have embarrassing moments. It’s okay to not have everything figured out, but don’t stop because of those things, do it anyway.”

Jordan Tane, 24, kaupapa Māori communication designer and researcher, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Jordan (Ngāpuhi) has always made sense of the world through visual storytelling. As an award-winning communication designer and emerging kaupapa Māori health researcher, she uses design as a tool for connection and belonging. Her master’s research at AUT focused on kaupapa Māori approaches to hauora and violence prevention, working with whānau who experienced state intervention and the removal of tamariki to co-create illustrated resources for those in similar situations. As a Māori designer who is takiwātanga (autistic), Jordan ensures people feel seen and valued. She is now beginning her PhD alongside an international initiative backed by the LEGO Foundation.

Words of wisdom: “The things that make you different are often the things that will help others feel seen. Let them take up space!!”

Kenisha Mediratta, 18, Founder of REdefine Aotearoa and systemic change leader, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Growing up in West Auckland, Kenisha worked alongside rangatahi impacted by youth crime, seeing how poor mental health, racism, and social exclusion intersected. This experience shaped her belief that young people deserve a voice in conversations about complex social issues. At 16, Kenisha founded REdefine Aotearoa, a youth-led racial education kaupapa that helps rangatahi navigate the impacts of racism while protecting their mental hauora. Supported by Youthline, MYD, Buzzly and the Whau Ethnic Collective , REdefine now has a national team of 31 young people creating resources and digital content that reaches thousands online. A former national champion long-distance runner, now living with chronic fatigue syndrome, she believes fairer, equitable systems are essential for all our futures.

Words of wisdom: “Save yourself before trying to save the world.”

Layba Zubair, 21, gender equity and law reform champion, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Born in Aotearoa and raised in Pakistan, Layba became determined to speak out about injustices, particularly sexual harm, after witnessing stories of violence against women that ended in silence. Fuelled by her own traumatic childhood experiences, Layba became determined to speak up about injustices, particularly sexual harm, and she’s determined to challenge and shape systems that allow it to happen. She founded and led the nationally recognised National Consent Law Reform campaign, driving a movement for an affirmative definition of consent in Aotearoa’s Crimes Act. Guided by lived experience, focused rage and hope for a safer future for her younger sister and other girls, Layba believes change begins when silence is broken.

Words of wisdom: “There is space for young people in law, politics, business, the arts, and every other field, and we should not only be present in those spaces, but help reshape them for the people who come after us.”

Maia Lusia Anitele’a, 19, Pasifika youth advocate for education and storyteller, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Growing up in South Auckland, Maia was exposed to narratives making young Pasifika people believe their futures are already written for them. Refusing to accept that script for herself or her community, she founded LeVai of Hope, a youth-led organisation creating spaces where Pasifika rangatahi feel seen, heard and equipped. Shifting narratives for Pasifika youth, this Afakasi Samoan leader has worked with more than 400 young people through workshops and cultural identity talanoa across Aotearoa. Currently studying social sciences and Māori media at AUT, Maia is a visual storyteller and an advocate helping youth imagine what is possible when hope is unlocked.

Words of wisdom: “Continue to refine yourself and walk in the strength that you were given. You are more than anything anyone has ever told you.”

Māia Lockyer, 25, hauora Māori researcher and medical student, Ōtepoti (she/her)

Māia (Ngāti Kahungunu ki Heretaunga, Ngāti Porou, Rongomaiwahine) understands the challenges of the medical system where people navigate complex healthcare without proper support. As a fifth-year medical student, hauora Māori researcher and founder of the Haumanu Hauora Charitable Trust, she has made it her mission to help change that reality for communities across Aotearoa. Believing health literacy is a systemic responsibility, she founded Haumanu Hauora to bring together Māori and Pacific health students to translate medical knowledge into clear information. She is deeply passionate about strengthening health literacy and supporting whānau to exercise greater agency over their wellbeing. The kaupapa reflects her belief that understanding our health is a prerequisite to exercising mana motuhake.

Words of wisdom: “Whai oranga, whai mana. Pursue wellbeing, pursue empowerment.”

Mariner Fagaiava, 25, journalist, broadcaster and Pasifika leader, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Of Samoan and Tongan heritage, Mariner sees the storytelling she’s dedicated her life to as tautua, an act of service. Raised in South Auckland by a single mother, she grew up closely connected to the realities and complexities of Pasifika life. This talented, award-winning journalist, broadcaster and youth advocate uses radio, television, podcasting and digital media to amplify underrepresented voices and challenge harmful stereotypes. As co-creator of the wildly successful youth podcast Island Roots, Auckland Ways, and a proud transgender Pasifika leader, Mariner creates spaces where young people, particularly from Pasifika and MVPFFAF+ communities, can see themselves reflected in media, leadership and public life.

Words of wisdom: “Everything you need is already within you. You will glow brighter when you decide to put yourself first.”

Mira Arif, 22, governance professional and community leader, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Born and raised in Abu Dhabi, Mira grew up surrounded by a rich tapestry of languages and cultures, grounding her fluency in Arabic. As vice president of the Waikato Students’ Union, a community liaison with the New Zealand Electoral Commission and youth worker with Shama Ethnic Women’s Trust and Refugee Orientation Centre, she’s learned the importance of creating spaces where young people feel heard and empowered to participate. Recently admitted to the Bar, Mira works in Auckland Council’s graduate programme in governance, gaining experience in stakeholder engagement and public sector decision-making. Across every role she takes on, Mira is dedicated to listening to different perspectives, celebrating cultures, and building systems that better serve communities.

Words of wisdom: “If you’re really scared to do something, it’s probably the thing you need to do the most. Nothing changes if nothing changes.”

Nasrin Najafi, 19, refugee champion and emerging engineer, Kirikiriroa (she/her)

Growing up in Afghanistan, Nasrin saw how limited life could be for women. Girls were often not allowed to study, speak in public or go outside without a male guardian. These early experiences helped her understand the value of having choices and fuelled the responsibility she now feels to help others find their voice to speak up for change. Arriving in Aotearoa as a refugee in 2022, she overcame language barriers and is preparing for an engineering degree. Nasrin serves as a youth leader in the Meaningful Refugee Participation programme and volunteers at the Shama Ethnic Women’s Trust and Refugee Orientation Centre. In 2025 Nasrin was selected to attend the Changemakers Academy at the 30th AFS Youth Assembly in New York.

Words of wisdom: “Some of the best things happen when life doesn’t go the way you expected.”

Naomi Tull, 18, STEM advocate and Genesia Girls founder, Ōtautahi (she/her)

Naomi hesitated to take digital tech at high school due to a lack of female representation, an experience of imposter syndrome that now sits at the centre of her leadership. This young STEM champion is the co-founder of Genesia Girls, a charity dedicated to connecting young women, girls, and gender-diverse youth with digital tech. The national initiative runs hackathons and game jams across Wellington and Christchurch – and soon Auckland – linking rangatahi with industry mentors. A TechStep Ambassador, Girls GameChangers Esports committee member and Canterbury University student, Naomi works to break down barriers and open doors.

Words of wisdom: “Don’t be scared to ask for something and get turned down. The more nos you get, the more likely you are to get a yes.”

Natalia Pere, 23, te ao Māori generalist, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

Natalia (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Te Wairoa) grew up in Waikaremoana and has navigated how a person’s background can influence their future – but also that it doesn’t need to define it. As a Māori wāhine navigating rural roots, neurodivergence, and questions of identity, Natalia has experienced how external circumstances can shape the likelihood of the life she could lead. Regardless, she is motivated to walk her own path and create visibility for what is possible. Natalia studied mechatronics engineering at AUT, where she dove into hackathons, robotics and mathematics teams, and served on the AUTSA student council. Now she’s channelling that same multidisciplinary energy into a new career direction. A talented artist, Natalia was a finalist in the 2025 Kiingi Tuheitia Portraiture Awards.

Words of wisdom: “Be open to change, don’t fret about straying from traditional career paths, learn what drives you without forcing yourself to hold onto it when it changes, and floss daily.”

Orini Rokx-Taratu, 21, kaiako (teacher) and te taiao advocate, Te Whanganui a Tara (she/her)

Raised in Tokomaru Bay, Orini (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Maniapoto) is a proud pā kid grounded in te ao Māori. At 18, during her first year of teacher training, Orini experienced Cyclone Gabrielle and witnessed the devastation and isolation faced by Māori communities across Te Tairāwhiti. Her experience contributing to a research project with Te Weu Tairāwhiti examining extreme weather impacts on hauora ignited a passion for embedding climate education in her teaching. Now she voluntarily coordinates climate education kaupapa through Future Unity in Porirua and has participated in an Indigenous knowledge exchange to Chile and Rapa Nui. Now qualified, Orini is working at Education NZ Manapou ki te Ao as a Māori advisor.

Words of wisdom: “Honour your tīpuna by standing on the foundations they built, and use that strength to create pathways for the generations to come”

Rahaf Gouda, 20, Palestinian rights activist and student leader, Tāmaki Makaurau (she/her)

At 20, Rahaf has become one of the most consistent and impactful young voices for Palestinian solidarity in Aotearoa. As part of the Palestinian diaspora with family from Gaza, she brings a deeply personal perspective to her advocacy. Since 2023, she has lost over 100 family members to Israel’s genocide, yet continues to organise rallies and speak with remarkable resilience and clarity. Rahaf serves as co-president of Student Justice for Palestine at the University of Auckland and is a powerful slam poet whose words move audiences toward meaningful change.

Words of wisdom: “There will be moments when you feel like you don’t belong, and in those moments, remember that you being there matters more than you think.”

Savera Sidhu, youth wellbeing advocate and karate champion (she/her)

Spending years learning karate in a male-dominated sport, Savera learned to regulate her emotions under pressure. Now, as a first-degree black belt and regional karate judge, this talented South Asian New Zealander is taking what she’s learned to share with rangatahi. She created Bright Start, a youth-led initiative delivering workshops that integrate movement and emotional regulation for preventative mental health. Savera serves with the 5Rights Foundation and Girl Rising, centering youth voice and digital wellbeing. She is currently studying psychology and criminology at university, aiming for legal practice.

Words of wisdom: “Say yes to opportunities before you feel fully prepared because growth has a way of meeting you there.”

Telesia Tanoa’i, 19, Indigenous filmmaker, actor and climate justice advocate, Te Whanganui a Tara (she/her)

Organising a school climate strike at age 12 in Fiji showed Telesia that youth can create real change when they speak up together. This talented advocate is a proud Sāmoan Fijian Kiwi filmmaker, actor, published author and TEDx speaker. Her creative work is driven by a commitment to climate justice; her award-winning documentary, Telesia 2 the World, had a successful run at international film festivals. A fluent speaker of Mandarin Chinese and learner of multiple Pacific languages, Telesia’s background includes a spell at Wētā Workshop working as a bilingual tour guide.

Words of wisdom: “The world will always have opinions, but your purpose for your life is greater than any rejection. So keep being unapologetically you.”

Tunmise Adebowale, 20, writer and editor-in-chief of The Art Lens, Ōtepoti (she/her)

Growing up between cultures as a Nigerian-born, South African-raised New Zealander, Tunmise developed an early awareness of how identity is shaped through language, place and story. Tunmise is now based in Dunedin where she is studying at the University of Otago. This award-winning writer’s stories explore belonging, cultural memory and place, and have been published widely, including in Poetry Ireland Review, Starling, Landfall, The Spinoff, Newsroom, The Pantograph Punch and Verb Wellington. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Art Lens, a literary magazine and podcast platform amplifying young artists, and writes on Substack.

Words of wisdom: “Keep going even when you’re unsure; you’ll surprise yourself.”

The return of 7,500 acres and hundreds of millions of dollars is not the end of the Nelson Tenths story. Te Here-ā-Nuku trustee Hēmi Sundgren argues the real test is what happens next.

There are moments in our history that feel like endings: signatures are placed, agreements reached, numbers settled. But every so often, those moments are not endings at all – they are thresholds. The resolution of Te Here-ā-Nuku, the Nelson Tenths, is one such moment. It is not the closing of a chapter, but the opening of a question of what will be done now that the Tenths are, in part, made whole?

The Tenths – more than just parcels of land – once stood as symbols of hope and a brighter future, promises that history ultimately left unfulfilled. Today, the weight of that legacy rests on the trustees of Te Here-a-Nuku Trust, established to support the litigation and hold the trust assets. Yet, it’s crucial to understand the return of the land and compensation is far from a simple reversal of loss.

In the 1840s, as the New Zealand Company laid out the settlement of Nelson and its surrounding districts, our tūpuna entered an agreement that was both pragmatic and visionary. One-tenth of the settlement – 15,100 acres – would be reserved in perpetuity for Māori. The Nelson Tenths was not a gift. It was an economic instrument designed to provide the basis of an endowment, anchor participation in a rapidly forming economy and ensure that Māori prosperity would grow alongside the settlement. The promise was clear, and it was formalised in law through an 1845 Crown Grant known as the Spain Award.

The original promises were quickly broken though, with only a small portion of the Tenths actually reserved as intended. Much of the land was instead sold, leased, poorly managed, or lost altogether. Pā, urupā, and cultivations that were supposed to be set aside separately from the awards never received proper allocation. This was not an isolated incident, but part of a long-standing pattern of neglect – a failure that extended beyond policy to a fundamental lack of responsibility. Despite this, from petitions in the 1800s to legal challenges in recent times, our community has consistently fought to reclaim what is rightfully theirs.

This was never just a Treaty grievance in the political sense, it was a binding legal obligation grounded in trust and property law. In 2017, the Supreme Court affirmed that the Crown owed fiduciary duties to the customary owners of the Tenths. In 2024, the High Court confirmed those duties had been breached in fundamental ways. These findings did not create new rights but recognised the enduring nature of ones long ignored.

The Resolution Agreement reached under Te Here-ā-Nuku marks the culmination of that struggle. Approximately 7,500 acres of land will be returned across Te Tauihu, alongside hundreds of millions of dollars of financial redress  for land that cannot be restored. It brings to a close one of the longest-running legal disputes in New Zealand’s history and formally acknowledges the Crown’s failure.

This is mana restored – but restoration must be understood carefully.

It would be easy, in this moment, to see the return of whenua and the scale of redress as an opportunity for direct and immediate utilisation – land or money as something to be divided, accessed, or occupied in ways that meet present-day expectations. That instinct is understandable – it speaks to a deep and legitimate desire for reconnection. But it also carries risk.

The Tenths were never intended to function as a series of individually consumed benefits. They were conceived as a perpetual endowment – an intergenerational economic base that would produce returns over time, not be diminished by use. If we shift that purpose now – if we treat the whenua or pūtea primarily as a place for direct allocation or fragmented use – we risk undermining the very mechanism our tūpuna fought to secure.

This is the uncomfortable truth at the heart of this moment: To make the Tenths whole is not to replicate the past, but honour its intent. And the intent was clear: Collective, enduring prosperity.

The opportunity before us is to re-establish the Tenths as a true endowment in accordance with our values – something protected, grown, and deployed with purpose. But perhaps the better way to understand this is not through financial language alone, but something more familiar.

The Tenths endowment is like the pā harakeke. At the centre sits the rito – the generational core. It is never cut. It is protected, nurtured, and allowed to grow, because it ensures the survival of the whole. Around it are the awhi rito, and beyond them the outer leaves, which can be harvested carefully and with intention. The strength of the pā harakeke is not in how much you take, but in how well you understand what must remain and the effort involved to nurture and care for the plant.

If you cut without discipline, the plant weakens. If you harvest too close to the centre, you compromise its future. But if you tend to it properly –  protect the soil,  root systems, and core, – if you take only what is appropriate and allow for regeneration, it will sustain generations. This is not a novel concept.

This is the model the Tenths now call us toward. The endowment is the rito. It must be held intact and protected from fragmentation, overreach, and the pressures of immediate demand. Around it sits the capacity to generate returns – those outer leaves that can be harvested to support the wellbeing of uri. The role of leadership is not to maximise extraction, but ensure balance: that what is taken today never compromises what must endure tomorrow.

Reconnection does not sit in the cutting of the rito, it sits in the weaving: Me tōngai harakeke e te iwi. The great orators of our Taranaki homeland called on this metaphor to reconnect, collectivise and be resilient in the face of adversity, Tohu and Te Whiti at Parihaka also uttered it as a unifying call to non-violent action. By weaving together our efforts and aspirations, we honour both our tūpuna and our descendants, ensuring the legacy endures and flourishes for generations to come.

The benefits generated from a strong and disciplined endowment can be woven back into the lives of our people through education, cultural revitalisation, environmental restoration and pathways that strengthen identity and belonging. In this way, the Tenths fulfil their purpose not by being consumed, but by enabling a network of outcomes and impacts that bind uri back to whenua, to whakapapa, and each other.

This is the quiet power of an endowment model: It requires restraint and clarity of purpose. It also requires us to hold fast to an idea that can feel counterintuitive in a moment of return: That the greatest expression of ownership is not always use, but stewardship.

Economically, this challenges us to think beyond conventional models. Not simply as asset managers, but as stewards of an intergenerational base. One that must grow, adapt, and respond to changing conditions, while remaining anchored in its founding purpose.

Culturally, it asks us to redefine reconnection not as proximity alone, but weaving participation, identity, and contribution. It asks us to invest in the things that bind us to each other and our history, even when those investments are not physically tied to land use.

Environmentally, it positions iwi not as passive recipients of returned land, but as deliberate kaitiaki – able to protect and enhance whenua precisely because it is not overburdened with competing demands.

And in governance, it requires a shift of mindset. From grievance to guardianship, recovery to responsibility, urgency of redress to the patience of stewardship.

None of this diminishes the significance of what has been achieved. If anything, it elevates it. Because it recognises that the true value of the Tenths does not lie in their immediate use, but in their enduring potential.

So we are left with a more difficult, but more important, set of questions:What does it mean to honour an endowment? How do we protect something not just for ourselves, but from ourselves? And how do we ensure that the benefits of this settlement are felt deeply by our people without compromising the foundation that makes those benefits possible?

The resolution agreement does not represent justice completed, it represents justice returned to our care and stewardship. For 180 years, our tūpuna fought to have this obligation recognised. Not so that it could be consumed, but so that it could finally function as it was always intended.

The Tenths are coming home – but not as they left. They return as a test of our discipline, our unity, and our foresight. A platform not just for reconnection, but for permanence. A reminder that the greatest responsibility we carry is not to maximise what we can take today, but to safeguard what must remain tomorrow.

What is built from here will define whether the Tenths are merely settled – or truly made whole.

With the election approaching, parties are scrambling to signal who they are and who they might work with – often by ruling things out rather than ruling them in, writes Henry Oliver in today’s excerpt from The Bulletin.

To receive The Bulletin in full each weekday, sign up here.

Labour tries (and fails) to keep its head down

Labour spent much of the week trying to define itself – and distance itself from some of its own members. Chris Hipkins was forced to rule out a streaming tax after a member’s bill from Willie Jackson surfaced, describing it as an “administrative oversight,” RNZ’s Craig McCulloch reported. Hipkins also confirmed Labour would not bring back the Clean Car Discount – dubbed the “ute tax” by National – telling the Herald’s Jamie Ensor he had “no plans” to reinstate it, and accusing National’s claim of the policy’s revival as “desperation”.

All of which seems to be in line with Labour’s apparent strategy of keeping its head down, keeping the focus on National’s errors and quietly reassuring centrist voters that a Labour-led government wouldn’t introduce a bunch of new taxes, while also keeping the door open to the left. Hipkins has also signalled that senior government roles for Te Pāti Māori are “unlikely,” a careful balancing act as Labour eyes potential coalition partners.

Greens want nicer (and more) school lunches

Meanwhile, the Green Party is leaning into its base with big promises. Co-leader Marama Davidson vowed to restore the school lunch programme to its original model and expand it to approximately 400 more schools, RNZ’s Giles Dexter reported. The Greens would restore funding to $6.50 per lunch, up from the current $3.58, costing the policy at $472m in 2027–28.

Associate education minister David Seymour questioned the costs, telling RNZ: “Why do for $600m, what you could do for $200m? No wonder the Greens want new taxes, they’re prepared to spend three times as much getting the same result.”

Opportunity Party moderates

The Opportunity Party is responding to its increasing poll numbers by trying to appear more conventional and coalition-ready. It has scrapped its unique and controversial policy that would have given its board veto power over caucus decisions, The Post’s Anneke Smith reported. The party’s constitution had given the board the ability to “overrule” caucus decisions by a 75% majority vote – a mechanism several legal experts said was unusual and potentially unenforceable.

Concern about the policy was brought to attention last weekend on Q+A when Opportunity leader Qiulae Wong was questioned by Jack Tame about taxes, political donations and the board’s veto power. First Wong said, should the party make it to parliament, the board overriding a caucus decision was “not possible”, then, once Tame quoted the party’s constitution to her, she backtracked, saying, “if our caucus is making decisions that go against the party charter, then there is reasonable grounds to overrule that,” and “the caucus needs to focus on making decisions that are in alignment with the party charter.”

The government plays defense

The coalition parties are also defining themselves, often defensively. Prime minister Christopher Luxon faced a wild public meeting in Christchurch on Wednesday night, the Herald’s Mike Thorpe reported. The event at Addington Raceway was disrupted by protesters on six occasions over climate change, Gaza, and other causes. Luxon shrugged off the interruptions, though he was, according to the Herald, “questionable in his delivery” – recounting a dinner conversation with Indian prime minister Narendra Modi that apparently began with “Narendra, what’s going on in India?” and suggested the crowd had “glazed over” when he discussed the national debt.

Meanwhile, the government is trying to claim credit for economic management while also blaming international events. A Horizon Research poll of 1028 adults, released to Newsroom, found that just 17% of respondents blamed the previous Labour government for inflation, while 31% pointed to international events and 29% to the current coalition. Even David Seymour conceded international factors were the primary driver, telling Newsroom: “Donald Trump, I guess. I’m not trying to have a go at the guy, I’m just being objective.”

Post-newsletter update:

In more National party meeting news, this morning the Herald’s Jack Riddell reports that at a public meeting in Napier, Ally Naylor, the former Xero employee who alleges former Xero CEO Sir Rod Drury of misconduct, asked Luxon: “As a former CEO yourself and a man in a position of power, do you think it’s appropriate when a power dynamic exists like that? And what will National finally do to address the massive issue of sexual harm in Aotearoa?”

Luxon admitted it was something the country should be ashamed of, saying that National wanted to do more “in the sexual offending space to make sure it’s very, very clear.”

Second-hand book sales are booming… but who’s buying the books and what in the hell are they doing with them?

What have book sales got to do with AI?

Media outlets across the world are reporting that business for second-hand booksellers is booming… but not because of the cost of living or a collective surge of interest in acquiring lovely old books for personal libraries. It seems more sinister than that. 

Second-hand booksellers in Wales, England, Ireland, India, the US, Europe, Australia and New Zealand have reported unusual – and unusually large – orders of books. Earlier this month RNZ reported that Wellington’s Book Haven started receiving bulk orders from a Canadian company in April. The titles requested were extremely specific and included New Zealand cook books, tourist pamphlets and history books. Book Haven’s owner Anne-Marie Thorby did some digging and discovered that the same buyer was scooping up tens of thousands of books from all over the world, and all orders were destined for the same American warehouse.

So, what’s the issue? Maybe someone who really loves books keeps them in an American warehouse?

The issue is Panama. In January 2026 The Washington Post (paywalled) revealed evidence that AI giant Anthropic was running a bold new training programme for Claude, its popular chat-bot based LLM. The programme, dubbed Project Panama, involves running millions of physical books through a hydraulic powered cutting machine that slices the spine clean off so the loose pages can be scanned, the information fed to Claude. 

The Washington Post unearthed the project among 4,000 pages of legal filings in a copyright case brought by book authors against Anthropic. An internal document stated “Project Panama is our effort to destructively scan all the books in the world”. It also said “We [Anthropic] don’t want it to be known that we are working on this”.

Book Haven’s Thorby, who was aware of Panama, put two and two together and came to the conclusion that all of those strange, bulk orders she was receiving were likely to be part of Project Panama, or something similar (like in this case (paywalled) where Nova Media tracked a shipment of rare books to an Amazon AI training facility). “Our role is to keep books alive, to keep them in the world,” she told RNZ’s Guyon Espiner. “We’re book lovers. We want books for the good of humanity, not just to transfer knowledge for private profit, going into building LLM machines.”

How many books are we talking? 

We don’t have a definitive number, but given the sheer volume of orders booksellers are receiving, it’s in the tens of thousands at least. The Washington Post article reported that “a project proposal by a vendor that ultimately worked with Anthropic noted that the AI company was ‘seeking an experienced document scanning services vendor to convert from 500,000 to two million books over a six-month period'”.

The Guardian, however, reported an Anthropic spokesperson saying the company procures its books from mainstream commercial markets, that training LLM models on book was a widely used approach, but that “none of our data acquisition programs buy and destroy rare or antiquarian books”. 

Haven’t AI companies previously been accused of training models off digital books, regardless of copyright?

Yes, and copyright law is tied up in this latest development too. There are a few potential reasons why Anthropic would procure, cut, and scan physical books to feed to Claude: one reason is that older books are free from AI contamination (paywalled) and are therefore superior training material for an LLM. The other reason is that US copyright law enables AI companies to legally use purchased second-hand books for the purpose of training their LLMs without the copyright owner’s permission. 

Authors and publishers are taking AI companies to court over the use of their work. Anthropic, Meta, Google and OpenAI have all been accused of hoovering up copyrighted material to train their LLMs without the copyright holders’ consent. Meta has denied any wrongdoing in a pending case, Google has not commented publicly on another, while OpenAI says in response to legal action underway that it respects creators and content owners and is reviewing allegations. 

In July 2026 Anthropic settled a copyright case against it in the US and paid out $1.5bn to authors and publishers, but in many ways the outcome was a win for Anthropic. 

How so? 

The judge ruled that using books to train AI was fair use under copyright law, but building a permanent library of pirated copies of books was not. Anthropic paid out because of the latter. 

Shortly after that ruling, another US judge found Meta was also covered under fair use. In that case, however, the judge said he ruled in favour of Meta only because the authors did not make a strong enough case for their argument that Meta’s AI would cause market dilution by flooding the market with books similar to theirs. He wrote: “No matter how transformative LLM training may be, it’s hard to imagine that it can be fair use to use copyrighted books to develop a tool to make billions or trillions of dollars while enabling the creation of a potentially endless stream of competing works that could significantly harm the market for those books.” He said his ruling in favour of Meta was not because “Meta’s use of copyrighted materials to train its language models is lawful,” but because “the proposition that these plaintiffs made the wrong arguments and failed to develop a record in support of the right one”.

Ah, I see, so avoid pirating books and use physical copies to train AI and then you’re sweet? 

So far, yes. Well, in the US, at least. Under US copyright law, as well as the doctrine of fair use, there’s a “first-sale doctrine”, which lets a buyer do certain things with an item after they’ve bought it (re-sell it, for example) without notifying the copyright holder. It’s this law that enables Anthropic and its rivals to buy and use physical books to train AI.

Legal expert Dr Alex Sims, however, says the law is different in New Zealand. “New Zealand does not recognise fair use, instead we have fair dealing, which is considerably narrower than fair use. Anthropic’s actions [meaning scanning hard copy books under fair use] would be extremely unlikely to amount to fair dealing in New Zealand,” she wrote on Newsroom yesterday.

What about all these books being destroyed? 

If you’re a book lover, the concept of slicing off the bindings to get to the leaves just to train a bot might sound akin to skinning puppies. There’s an ethical and moral argument to be made against the destruction of books, especially potentially very rare ones. No doubt second-hand booksellers, receiving bulk orders are finding themselves having to weigh up difficult decisions. 

All this makes it seem quaint to buy a book, read it and then give it a home on the bookshelf.

Nah, go buy that novel. 

Alex Casey takes a look back at our proud history of going apeshit over supermarket promotions. 

My household is delighted to announce the safe arrival of our brand new Smeg wooden cutting board, weighing a hearty 1.2kg and costing us – checks notes – 50 New World stamps. In some ways, it cost us $1,000 in groceries. In other ways, it was absolutely free, because we would have definitely been buying all that stuff anyway, right down to the handful of posh biscuity almonds, the five yams and the 10 eggs I grabbed at the last minute to nab that final stamp. 

Although some of the more enlightened among us have sworn off supermarket loyalty schemes and sticker-based promotions entirely, I know I’m not the only one doing this kind of nonsensical mental gymnastics as I careen my way towards Pointless Free Shit Avenue. Even if you aren’t adding to your belt of knives like a travelling carnie in the 19th century, there’s always the sea of dead-eyed Ooshies begging to be unwrapped and traded at Woolworths (more about them later). 

Then again, when you consider the duopoly hellscape, maybe we all deserve our stupid little treats. Consumer NZ reports that 82% of New Zealanders say their food budgets are under strain, and 67% of us do not have confidence that government policy will help keep food affordable. Add to that the restrictive new loyalty schemes and all the surveillance stuff, and no wonder we’re numbing the pain with a small figurine of Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. 

As marketing expert Bodo Lang told RNZ, these promotions are also not just about getting people into stores and encouraging them to spend more money, but are tapping into our “deep-seated desire to collect items and achieve a sense of completion by obtaining every item in a set”. Combine this with Facebook groups, Trade Me rackets and media furore, and we’ve forged a proud tradition of frenzied promotions resulting in injuries, bans and even fights. 

Here lies over a decade of supermarket collectable chaos, ranked by frenzy level.

16. Fruit for Kids, Countdown (2015)

In 2015, Countdown announced it would provide free fruit for kids in all 181 of its stores nationwide, intended to keep kids occupied while their parents did the shopping. A wholesome promotion, but you are hardly going to get hoards of kids barging each other over for a browning banana. What remains less clear is their definition of the word “kid”, because if you think I look young enough to ID me, then surely I also look young enough to have a free apple? I don’t know, I just think it’s funny and an interesting grey area. Don’t check my pockets.

15. Super Insect and Animal Cards, Countdown (2015 and 2020)

The insect cards didn’t seem to drum up much of a frenzy in 2015, but through these educational cards and videos hosted by “the bug man” I managed to learn that wētā have two small feelers on their bottom that measure speed, humidity and temperature – smart butt! Oddly, Countdown didn’t seem to ever release a Super Insect Card for weevils. I wonder why?

Things heated up slightly in 2020, with their animal edition, which made an animal noise when you swiped them through a plastic thing. Unfortunately the only sound I care about is the sound of one New Plymouth granny’s heart breaking after someone stole the complete card collection she lovingly mailed to her granddaughter. “Have you ever seen a little kid get the last card in a group and leap six feet in the air and go ‘yahoo’?” she asked Stuff. “That’s what I get out of it.” I may never smile again.

14. Star Wars Cosmic Shells, Countdown (2016)

In some more wholesome coverage, this little guy in Auckland collected 56 complete sets of Star Wars cosmic shells to donate to children’s hospitals, and in New Plymouth people dressed up in character and gifted complete sets to the kids at Taranaki Base Hospital. Not so much hysteria and mostly just extremely nice vibes. Is that “the force” in action? George Lucas has been approached for comment.

13. Wiltshire Cutlery, Countdown (2022)

In the words of Donkey from Shrek: everybody loves parfait, which must mean everybody loves parfait… spoons? In 2022, Countdown launched a Wiltshire cutlery promotion which included such essential household items as pâté knives and impossibly long-handled parfait spoons. Alas, the promotion didn’t fare well on Reddit, where hundreds of people called for cheaper groceries instead of free spoons. To quote another icon of 2000s cinema: let them eat parfait.

12. Glass containers, Countdown (2021)

Another day, another mob of shoppers fuming because their supermarket has run out of their free promotional thing. I’ve always thought that people who owned glass containers really had their shit together, until I saw all the comments on the Countdown Facebook page of glass container enthusiasts completely losing each and every iota of said shit. “Not a happy chappy,” wrote one Palmerston North customer. “Rack off,” cried another. 

11. KitchenAid ovenware, New World (2021) 

Ah yes, 2021, the year we all lost our minds for a “mini cocotte”, the most coveted item in New World’s hugely successful KitchenAid ovenware promotion. Shipping 900,000 items across the country and smashing previous household-related promotion redemptions by 238%, the country is simply not ready for whenever New World decides to wheel out the mega cocotte.

10. Disney Movie Stars Collectors Cards, Countdown (2016)

In 2016, every $20 you spent at Countdown bought you (aka your inner and/or outer child) a Disney character card featuring projectable frames of scenes from classic Disney films. And in keeping with classic Disney villainy, you had to buy the projector separately for $10. And, if you wanted to store your slides in style there was a collector’s album for $8 or a tin for $4.

Then, and only then, were you allowed to make a giant bowl of popcorn and settle in with the fam for a lovely evening of staring at static Disney slides featuring “scenes such as giant teacups, seven dwarfs and lion cubs” in total silence. Look, I never managed to get a single one of these cards but I know what classic Disney frame I’d insist on showcasing. The truth is out there.

9. Little Shop and Little Kitchen, New World (2014 and 2015)

Everything I want to say about Little Shop I have regrettably said before on this very website. A disgustingly evil genius promotion full of tiny plastic pieces of shite that Sally Ridge can use to make lamps, dads can use to go viral and I can use to feel like a big, big girl in a small, small world. One star for the environment, five stars for the tiny box of tissues that smell like ALOE FUCKIN’ VERA and the mouse-sized Woman’s Day magazine.

8. Disney Words, Countdown (2019)

These little tiles featuring Disney characters and, you get it, words, created a fair share of hysteria in grown-ass radio personalities nationwide. For example, then Edge DJ Dom Harvey fizzing at the bung to be slipped a bonus tile from a clerk’s fanny pack, while his colleague Clinton Randell mused as to whether or not they should put his own child out on the street with a “collecting tiles sign”.

Another adult man, Jason Winstanley from Newstalk ZB, had spent nearly $9,000 collecting more than 300 tiles but was still missing Mr Incredible. “One of my best mates at work, he’s got two boys and he has got two full sets but no Mr Incredible. Where is Mr Incredible?!” he asked the NZ Herald. Thankfully, a 12-year-old child came to the rescue to complete the grown man’s collection.

7. Spiegelau glasses, New World (2019)

Chaos reigned at the beginning of 2019 when New World ran out of some of their fancy-ass Spiegelau glass sets, driving the north vs south divide by offering a restock to the North Island and piddly gift vouchers to the South. What is this, Creative New Zealand funding? It wasn’t all bad news for southerners, though, with one Ashburton bloke taking home 12 sets after spending a bargain bin amount of dollars ($8,000).

“I ended up with a great selection of glasses,” he said at the time. “If you played by the rules, and grabbed your glasses as you went along, you would be fine.” At the end of the day we can all agree that a Spiegelau in time saves neun, and that I know where I’m headed next time I’m in Ashburton and need an ornate crystal tumbler to trap a spider against the wall.

6. Dreamworks Heroes Cards, Countdown (2014)

These 2014 lenticular cards featuring the likes of Shrek, Kung Fu Panda and The Croods were banned at a Dunedin school as kids were using “standover tactics” and trades were often going “awry”. But it wasn’t just kids who became ensnared into the Haus of Ogre. “Our kids are grown up and I don’t even know why I bought the book,” Catherine Guyton told Stuff.

Whether she knew what she was doing or not, she certainly turned a tidy coin, selling the cards she collected for $121 and the empty book for $50. Now you can buy most of the collection for roughly $1, and with the dust settled on these Dreamworks cards I now want to confess that I still don’t actually know what lenticular means.

5. Little Garden, New World (2016 and 2017)

I was once a little drunk at a friend’s house and watched with awe as they unboxed their Little Garden and did the thing where the little dehydrated soil cake swells up with water. Reader, I wanted to eat that little soil cake very badly, so I can’t even imagine how badly I’d want to eat the anthropomorphised veg that it is capable of producing.

Despite appearing to be the most wholesome, environmentally friendly and educational promotion on the list, there remained a seedy industry underbelly to Little Garden. Mob bosses Carla Carrot and Solomon Sage raked in megabucks on Trade Me at the time, with a complete set selling for $210. The life lesson remains: never trust a cauliflower that has eyelashes.

4. Disney Dominoes, Countdown (2015)

These Disney Dominoes climb to the top of the frenzy rankings on several counts. Firstly, they seem to be the only promotional supermarket junk that has already secured a place in Te Papa (do NOT tell Hayden Donnell). Secondly, these jolly little rectangles were absolutely EVERYWHERE at their popularity peak in 2015, with one anonymous parent claiming that they are “still pulling those fuckers out of the back of the couch” to this very day.

But thirdly, and most crucially, they made the whole country go absolutely flaming mad. Countdown-sanctioned swap meets saw “pushing, swearing and underhand tactics” as customers fought to complete their collections. In Mornington, Dunedin, a five-year-old girl was reportedly pushed over by a group of grown-ass adults. Another boy was shoved so hard by the frothing mob that his glasses nearly fell off.

“It was disgusting behaviour,” one punter said at the time. “Give me Remy the Rat or I will break both your legs,” said another, probably. And to think, over a decade later and you can buy the complete set from the comfort of your couch for a mere $15.

3. Assorted Bricks ranges, Countdown and Woolworths (2021-2026)

For over five years this definitely-not-Lego held the country in a chokehold, releasing “eco-friendly” bricks that allowed kids to build their own supermarkets and discover where their food comes from (a tiny plastic definitely-not-Lego cow, duh). But things got really out of hand earlier in the year, when Woolworths launched a to-scale Bricks building site complete with full scaffolding and a “tuck truck” for kids to explore in hard hats. Peter Wolfkamp will be hearing about this. 

2. Smeg knives, New World (2021 and 2026)

When we look back on our lives from our deathbeds, we will no doubt fondly recall the “summer of Smeg” which saw more than 1.2 million stainless steel Smeg knives squirrelled away by fervent New World shoppers in 2021. It wasn’t all sunshine and DIY Freddy Kruger-glove-fashioning, though – the scarcity of the coveted cream and black knife blocks led to a Commerce Commission complaint and at least one Devonport woman left “in complete shock”.

As if it wasn’t already an objectively funny idea to arm hordes of furious shoppers with sharp stainless steel knives, then came the injuries. One customer described slicing her finger “to the bone” while cutting an avocado with a Smeg knife, yet still managed to be complimentary of the product. “It didn’t really hurt because the knives are so sharp it actually did a very clean cut,” she said. There ended up being more than 80 ACC claims as a direct result of the promotion. 

Five years later, our wounds have healed and New World customers are back frothing over the return of Smeg. “Whether they’re creating consommé à la brunoise or a toasted sandwich, shoppers can collect, slice, carve and prep like a pro with premium SMEG knives,” the promotional material reads. I’ll take one finely-sliced finger toastie, thanks.

1. Ooshies, Woolworths (2026)

As of writing, Ooshie stocks have been exhausted at supermarkets across the country and the Woolworths promotion will wrap up this weekend with a series of in-store swap-meets nationwide. It is crazy to think it was just over a month ago that these small pencil-topper figurines from the Disney, Pixar, Marvel and Star Wars universe washed up on our shores with their dead, black eyes and their slightly squishy texture, and changed everything forever. 

With a full set of 40 characters to collect, and ultra-rare pieces issued such as the flocked Bullseye from Toy Story (one was listed for $32,000 across the ditch), Ooshie madness quickly descended across Facebook groups and schoolyards alike as people rushed to complete the set. Kids started local trading posts in smaller communities, and some entrepreneurial types even started selling custom 3D-printed Ooshie stands for hundreds of dollars. 

But soon enough, things went pear-shaped, and schools started banning Ooshies due to them causing fights, distractions, theft and “a bit of kerfuffle” in the classroom. For example, Snells Beach School issued a notice on social media that Ooshies would no longer be allowed on school grounds. “This is due to the increased workload on teachers of dealing with distraction and upset children with missing objects,” the post read. 

“However Mr Morley would really like a Bobba Fett and Stormtrooper Ooshie please.”

This post is an updated version of a story that first appeared on The Spinoff in 2021 (the height of Smeg Summer)

Circa Theatre’s latest production is the best warm-up to the worst time of the year.

Is there anything more Wellington-coded than a sold-out political satire at a waterfront theatre? Six election cycles in, and it seems the hype around Public Service Announcements’ triennial election satire is only building. You’d think more exposure to the Nact-First government would be the last thing any culturally minded Wellingtonian needed – but maybe a caricatured coalition can be an antidote to the chaos.

Patrons filled Circa Theatre for the show on Tuesday night, taking their seats as LunchMoney Lewis’s ‘Bills, Bills, Bills’ played over the speakers. The plot is laid out quickly, with thanks to a fake John Campbell whose “marvellous” well and truly rivals the real one’s. There are US naval ships in the Cook Strait, and something must be done about it – not by Erica Stanford, who takes all her advice from her AI bot Eric, nor Nicola Willis riding around on her e-scooter, nor Chris Bishop holding Simeon Brown, who is played by a gerbil in a cage. There’s only one man who could know what to do: Winston Peters.

So, a severely egg-headed Christopher Luxon sets off to find the foreign affairs minister. But he can’t help but notice another baldie skulking around the stage in silence. Could that be Peters, Luxon wonders? No, it’s just Tama – as in Tama Potaka, remember? “Oh!” replies Luxon. “You’re in the National Party!”

What ensues from there is two hours (including a 20-minute intermission) of political chaos. As news of the naval ships spreads, each party must come up with a response to the threat heading to Wellington Harbour. For the left bloc, this looks like waiting for the government to fuck up the response before saying anything. For National, it’s finding Peters. For Act, it’s perfecting the message discipline and sloganing before anything else. For NZ First, it’s making sure the downfall of New Zealand’s society doesn’t happen without them being a part of it.

Despite being an ensemble cast of only six – Cohen Holloway, Kali Kopae, Andrew Paterson, Jamie McCaskill, Brayden Cresswell and Anya Tate-Manning – there are plenty of political characters. Some of the best personalities are the ones we see the least in our headlines – like Act deputy leader Nicole McKee, who was a crowd favourite by the end of the show for killing off some of her colleagues.

What you’ll appreciate most about the script is that no one is sacred – not even the left bloc that has a hold on this city. Greens co-leader Chlöe Swarbrick (whose famous “woke lesbo” sweater has been redesigned as “liberal carpet müncher”) rubs drugs into her gums while fielding requests for a threesome from Herald Now’s Ryan Bridge and Act Party leader David Seymour. And Te Pāti Māori president John Tamihere appears as a vampire with Jedi-like powers to puppeteer his co-leaders Debbie Ngarewa-Packer and Rawiri Waititi. Together, they perform the song and dance number ‘That’s a Māori’, a parody of Dean Martin’s ‘That’s Amore’.

A couple of non-politicians also get cameos. There’s a Twilight-inspired stand-off between the Greens and the Opportunity Party, set to Muse’s ‘Supermassive Black Hole’. The latter’s intrusion onto the Greens’ turf leads Swarbrick to declare “you’re Labour for people who make podcasts”. And Kiri Tamihere – daughter of John and wife of Waititi, and the party’s general manager – briefly appears to demand her husband “cook the woman some fuckin’ eggs”.

The play keeps up with the wild instability of our politics, with a small team of writers updating the script daily to keep up with the goings on in parliament – like the failed Penk coup, and some of Peters’ recent unsavoury language. It means the show, which opened on August 1 and runs for five weeks,  stays fresh in its political commentary, with no two nights at Circa ever really the same.

But you can tell that keeping the script topical comes at a cost. There are missed lines at times and actors occasionally break character, with McCaskill hiding behind his cape as Vampire John Tamihere to laugh at the absurdity of the scene he’s in. And while you might expect a political comedy to regard itself as a bit more high brow than your usual satire, the fart jokes provide good comic relief.

That lack of pretension works well for the show. As someone also in the business of trying to make politics funny, I know a lot of self-doubt goes into creating a punchline out of the deeds of our most powerful. Often, it’s easiest to poke fun when you lean into the absurdity of it all – you don’t always need a clever, chin-stroking take. Sometimes it’s just about holding up a magnifying glass to how ridiculously these people act.

At one point, Swarbrick lectures other MPs on “joy as an act of resistance”. It summed up why punters had braved a cold school night to see our political leaders having the absolute piss taken out of them and their antics, be it through infighting in the caucus (in National’s case) or being too cautious to provide any real hope (AKA Labour). Laughter in the end times is a public service worth providing – and you have until September 5 to make the most of it at Circa Theatre.

He’s an electorate-only candidate in the safest of safe Labour seats, but the outspoken artist/wrestler isn’t campaigning to get himself into parliament – it’s all about the party. 

It’s an early afternoon in South Auckland, and Herbs’ ‘Dragons and Demons’ is vibrating through the stereos inside the Wanderers Club in Māngere. It’s been said that this pub was once a favourite watering hole of former prime minister David Lange, but today, it’s the locals bearing gap-toothed smiles and jugs of beer who have the run of the joint. Looking somewhat out of place is Michel Mulipola, the Green Party hopeful wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the trans pride flag and the slogan “protect the dolls”. He sips from a mason jar filled with water as he maps out the plan to make this red seat bleed green, but God forbid that results in him becoming a parliamentarian.

Since its inception in 1969, the Māngere electorate has only ever been represented by a Labour Party MP (including Lange). Incumbent Lemauga Lydia Sosene won her seat with the biggest margin of any Labour candidate in 2023, and she’s likely to romp home again this year. Though Mulipola is an electorate-only candidate, he’s happy to let her win. Being the next local MP would be the “worst-case scenario”, he says. “I don’t want to be an MP, I don’t want a portfolio, I don’t want to be in parliament. My goal is to grow the south-side Greens and create a sustainable movement for this election and beyond.”

Mulipola, known online as the Bloody Samoan, says Labour loyalty is inherited among the many Pasifika families living across South Auckland. But his conviction that “Green policies serve our people best” has seen him reluctantly rise to replace the party’s original Māngere candidate (Timoti Te Moke, who is now running as an independent), and “flip the script” in terms of running a campaign. He knows the Greens have sometimes been “detached” from Pasifika and Māori communities, “which is why it was a good idea for me to run. So they can see themselves.”

Mulipola says he’s been trying to “find the right delivery system” to “create the shift” in political allegiances. At his first community event, he and Green Ōtāhuhu candidate Te Whatanui Skipwith sat cross-legged in a circle with voters from their neighbouring electorates and listened to them speak about their communities. “It’s not all doom and gloom,” Mulipola promises – more of a chance to acknowledge what’s working and what isn’t. “I like to refer to it as tangata lālanga, the woven people; all of us woven together in the same struggle,” Mulipola says. “It’s like the woven sail of a waka – flexible, strong and tightened, to get us where we need to be.”

In Māngere, voters’ concerns range from the cost-of-living crisis to more local issues, such as Māngere having some of the lowest tree coverage in Auckland. Then there’s Te Ararata stream, central to Māngere, which has seen new housing developments pop up along its edges. While families in this electorate are desperate for more (affordable) homes, some mana whenua are worried about the impacts on the stream. “These developments are needed, but they need to be considerate of te taiao,” Mulipola says. “All of these things are interconnected… Nothing really exists in a void or vacuum that doesn’t come into contact with anything else.”

It’s a shame that someone with so much care for their neighbourhood wouldn’t want to represent it in parliament. But that would mean Mulipola would have to give up the dream he’s living already, of being an artist who moonlights as a professional wrestler and is in the top 8% of Tekken players worldwide. He’s hustled a childhood love of art and comic books (X-Men in particular, which Mulipola figures might have also inspired his political values) into an award-winning career that has included projects with Marvel and WWE. Most recently, Mulipola was working from a South Auckland garage as a story artist on Moana 2. “I want to show young people that there’s so many ways you can be something, while still being in the community,” Mulipola says. “You can work for the biggest company in the world, and still keep it in the hood.”

But there are other downsides to being a public figure in the political space. When Mulipola’s candidacy was announced, there was backlash to social media posts he had made earlier – in particular, one about David Seymour being a “piece of shit” that the Act Party leader cried foul over. Mulipola took it in his stride. “They don’t give a damn about South Auckland. The fact that they were willing to attack me… showed me they were afraid of people like me,” he says.

There are ways to be a political advocate without having to take a seat in the House of Representatives and play by parliament’s rules, and Mulipola doesn’t mind staying in his lane. He’s happy to be an adviser if arts and culture minister Paul Goldsmith comes knocking, but once the campaigning is over, it’s back to normal life for Mulipola. Which looks like working with schools to get rangatahi engaged in the arts and help them understand that “expression is the opposite of depression”.

“I felt like I never really had a voice, but the more I create, the more I expressed myself, the more power my voice gained through the arts,” Mulipola says. “Now, I can’t shut the hell up.”

THE SPINOFF PUB Q+A

How much should a pint cost?

As a non-drinker, I have no idea.

Do you have a karaoke go-to?

I’m notorious for my karaoke choices at Māoriland Film Festival. I do have a few in my pocket, but the one that hit the hardest last year at Māoriland was ‘Hot to Go’ by Chappell Roan. This year I sang ‘Bring Me to Life’ by Evanescence. Everyone was cracking up. Here’s the thing: I actually love singing songs by women, because I love the idea of someone who looks like me singing it. Let’s break down gender barriers.

Favourite place to get a drink in Aotearoa?

I do like an Ollie’s thick shake [in Royal Oak, Auckland], expensive as they are now. They use actual ice cream and a bit of syrup, and you can get flavours like orange chocolate chip or banana chocolate chip. I also like to hit up Night n’ Day.

Which three candidates would be on your pub quiz team?

I would have Donald Mackenzie Mayo [Green candidate for Tāmaki], because he organised a quiz event for the MET Greens [Maungakiekie, Epsom and Tāmaki candidates] a couple of weeks ago and came up with the most stuffed up, amazing quiz categories. He gave us song lyrics in alphabetical order, and you had to figure out where everything went. It was so cooked, but it was amazing.

[Green MP] Scott Willis could be good for sports. And then, because there needs to be more categories about te ao Māori, I’ll put Hūhana [Lyndon, Green MP and candidate for Te Tai Tokerau] in there.

Which candidate from across the aisle would you most like to share a drink with?

I can’t really think of any, because my mouth would get me in trouble. I can’t really do pleasantries, and my integrity doesn’t allow me to associate with people that have been harmful to my people. Even in the work scene, it just doesn’t feel right to me. I’d have to politely decline.

Is there an alcohol-related law you would like to change?

Not necessarily alcohol-related, but I loved Kahurangi’s [Carter, Green MP] good samaritan bill. I’m definitely a big fan of anything that makes the people safer. And I would like to see more regulation around alcohol, because for a legal substance, it’s caused some of our most horrific social harms.

What’s a policy area we’ve been nursing without finishing the glass?

It’s the arts and culture stuff, right? When our arts thrive, our society thrives… I would love to see an implementation of what Ireland has now made permanent, which is the universal income for artists. They made it permanent after a trail period, because they found that the money generated by artists having time to make art – rather than working to survive – paid for itself very quick. I guess that’s why I find myself aligned with the Greens; when you look after people and the planet, they have time to create.

What qualities make a good drinking partner?

Someone that’s not sloppy. As someone who doesn’t drink, I’m always happy to be a sober driver. I would much rather people enjoy themselves and get home safely, and my job is to make sure it happens like that.

Have you ever had a Schnapps election moment that made you rethink your political instinct?

No, I think I’ve been very adamant. My great grandfather was a secretary of the mau movement, so my activism and steadfastness is inherited from my tūpuna. I think I’ve been very 10 toes down on a lot of my positions, but I’m not opposed to new evidence if it presents itself.

Up next on One Candidate, One Pint: Max Harris, Labour Party candidate for Tāmaki. Read more One Candidate, One Pint interviews here.

From a grandmother’s celebration potatoes to recipes smuggled out of a city at war – Nick Iles on the memories that underpin some of the capital’s favourite foods.

Nobody makes anything of any significance in isolation. We are all informed by the things we have consumed – quietly organising and storing information away for when we choose to create. This is as true in food and hospitality as anywhere. As British chef Clare Smyth put it, “with any chef, you can see everyone they’ve worked for. You can see the techniques and ingredients and flavours. It’s part of your DNA. It’s your background.”

Chefs and restaurateurs have spent a lifetime eating and thinking and looking. Watching their mothers and fathers cook the meals of their childhoods, listening attentively as the chefs they worked under talked through their signature techniques, feeling and noticing every time that they do anything at all.

‘Word of mouth’ is the theme for Visa Wellington on a Plate this year – “celebrating how food stories, heritage recipes, and personal recommendations travel across generations, cultures, and communities”. The theme highlights how culinary influences – personal, cultural and professional – make eating in Wellington such a gloriously diverse experience. Across the capital, whether in Michelin-starred fine dining or through affordable dishes brought here by masters of their craft, these narratives are being kept alive, today and every day.

The Wellington dishes below are more than just food on a plate. They are stories rich in history, family and connection.

Phoenician Falafel: Beef makanek 

At Phoenician Falafel, the beef makanek carries a remarkable amount of history. Owner Tony Assaf grew up in Beirut, where food was part of the fabric of a city that was increasingly being torn apart by conflict. When the Lebanese Civil War made him a wanted man, he began secretly collecting recipes from the people making the best food in the city.

The best falafel seller told him his recipe. So too did the best shawarma maker. Then came the seller who made the best makanek, a type of sausage. These were not recipes written for a cookbook – they were pieces of knowledge handed from one person to another, gathered in a moment when Tony did not know if he would survive.

In 1995, Tony and his wife Yola brought those recipes with them to Aotearoa. At Phoenecian Falafel they have remained wholly unchanged. When she makes makanek, Yola still shapes the premium beef by hand, seasoning it with the spices of the Levant before cooking three fat sausages on the flat-top. Wrapped in warm bread with homemade hummus, pickles and tomato, it is an intensely savoury, aromatic thing. It is what happens when knowledge survives – and is carried carefully somewhere new to thrive.

Phoenician Falafel: 11 Kent Terrace, Mount Victoria

Jano Bistro: Dauphine potatoes

At Jano Bistro, Pierre-Alain Fenoux’s dauphine potatoes – not to be confused with dauphinoise potatoes – are a recipe for celebration. They come from his grandmother, who would make great piles of them when the whole extended family sat around the same table. Rich, crisp and made from a mixture of choux pastry and cooked potato, they were not an everyday food. They were a reward, something that appeared when there was a reason to make the occasion feel special.

Pierre has carried that idea with him to Wellington. The recipe is much the same, including his grandmother’s addition of chervil and comte cheese, but what he has inherited is more than a list of ingredients. His grandmother taught him that food should have a purpose. You should not add things simply because you can. Everything should mean something, and, ideally, make someone feel something.

That is what the potatoes do at Jano. They are indulgent and deliberately excessive; little golden reminders that you have arrived somewhere worth celebrating. Serving a dish Pierre’s grandmother made for her own celebrations is a way of passing that feeling on: a recipe from his family, now used to make other people feel like there is something worth celebrating too.

Jano Bistro, 270 Willis Street, Te Aro.

FJ Noodles and Dumplings: Hand-pulled noodles

There is something remarkable about a technique surviving for more than a century, all because one person teaches another how to do it. The hand-pulled noodles at FJ, born in Lanzhou, China, are exactly that. These noodles are a direct line to the past, the tradition having been passed from one generation of cooks to the next, master to mentee. Chef Ma at FJ learnt the technique there from his teacher, Chef Ma. The coincidence is charming, but in truth most who hail from his village bear that same surname – a testament to how closed off the community of qualified noodle masters really is.

Ma spent six months learning in a restaurant, kneading dough by hand and watching his teacher whenever the noodles were being made, before being allowed to practise by himself. At first, the problem was getting them even. Some parts were thick, others thin. His teacher showed him how to change the way he pulled the dough and suddenly it worked. Then came the real challenge: getting fast enough to keep up when the restaurant filled with customers.

While the flour is now mixed by machine, the pulling at FJ Noodles is still done by hand, using the same technique handed down to Chef Ma from Chef Ma. From one small village in northern China to a steaming, deeply satisfying bowl on Courtenay Place.

FJ Noodles and Dumplings: 45 Courtenay Place, Te Aro

Cloudbuster: Weekend counter cake by Lydia Wisheart 

The cakes Lydia Wisheart creates are the product of a decade of obsessing over baking, and a decade of learning from some of New Zealand’s most talented bakers and chefs. While Lydia’s cakes were previously available only through her online bakery, one now appears on the counter – available by the slice – at Cloudbuster in Island Bay every Saturday.

Before heading off to pastry school, Lydia was given her first cooking job by Freya Atkinson at Seashore Cabaret on Petone’s waterfront. Next, in Auckland, she worked at Bestie with Nicola Standage, whose inventive approach to breakfast showed Lydia how familiar dishes could be pushed somewhere more interesting. Then, at the much-missed Myrtle Bakery in Wellington, Jacob Brown helped her find the part of pastry that really interested her: flavour profiles, and the byzantine process of figuring out what flavour works with what. Brown, especially, taught her to trust her instincts and let an idea sit until it was ready.

This is still how Lydia makes her cakes. An idea starts as a seed, then gets turned over in her head, with flavours and textures added and removed until the pieces click. Only then does she start baking, the difficult part seemingly already done.

The Saturday cake at Cloudbuster is an example of one of the most beautiful things in food – someone at the top of their field, with a wealth of knowledge and experiences, seeing things differently from everyone else and, as a result, creating something truly unique. Then putting it on a counter so we can all enjoy a slice.

Cloudbuster: 30 Reef St, Island Bay

How do I find my way to pride?

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nz or fill out this form.

Dear Hera,

After being asleep for decades, I find myself inside the middle-aged crisis that is my gay awakening. It’s not cathartic or joyous, and mostly I am afraid.

For years now I’ve experienced the slow creeping horror, I think not of my queerness, but of discovering that I am not who I thought I was. And not how everyone else knows me.

I can’t be regretful; I have a wonderful child, and I’ve found ways to do a bit of good in the world, but there’s been little joy. I built the life I set out to build but couldn’t be content with it, and I walked away. Now I worry about having misled, or even wronged, the people and partners I’ve known.

This is an ache, and I don’t know how to clear it. I can’t imagine finding a partner now and have only tenuous connections in the queer community. I feel so strongly that I don’t belong (anywhere) and worry I might subconsciously sabotage new connections with people, or that I’m in such a dark place that no one would want to get to know me.

Am I just so conditioned to heteronormativity that I can’t accept myself? Did I live the wrong life? How can I find my way to pride?

A late-in-life queer

Dear late-in-life,

Hello and good morning!

First of all, congratulations on having arrived at this hard-won self-knowledge. This is a huge step, no matter how long or painful the journey. But even more commendable is the courage it took you to step away from a life that didn’t feel authentic and brought you no joy.

Right now you’re currently overwhelmed, standing on the threshold of an unfamiliar life, like someone having just leapt out of a plane, before the parachute has opened. But you’ve already done the hardest part. It will take time and patience to imagine a new kind of future for yourself – one in which joy is possible. I can understand your fear, but I think one day you will look back at this version of yourself with gratitude and feel proud you were brave enough to want more for yourself.

I don’t think there is such a thing as living the wrong life. We all love to believe we’re captains of our fate, and our life is free to shape as we see fit, but it’s probably closer to the truth to admit we’re all sentient lumps of dubiously programmed meat, hostage to our individual circumstances, and must do the best we can with the information currently available to us. That doesn’t mean we can’t change our lives for the better, but it’s a waste of time and energy to be too harsh on our past selves, berating ourselves for squandered time, as if things could easily have been any other way, had we tried harder.

Perhaps your life would have been smoother if you’d spontaneously figured thing out earlier, but identity isn’t a fundamental underlying truth you’re tasked with uncovering. We’re all hundreds of different people over the course of our lives, and for most of us, who we are is a question we have to answer over and over. Some people figure out who they want to be early, and it’s normal to be envious about that kind of certainty, but absolute certainty isn’t necessarily a better way to live. There’s a lot to be said for dead-end roads, wrong turns and instructive mistakes.

Anyone who views this new development in your life as a personal betrayal, rather than the natural variety and contradiction inherent in a well-lived life, is either annoyingly narcissistic or has lived a very narrow life. You don’t owe it to anyone to have a narratively cogent personal development arc that makes everyone else in your life feel retrospectively good about themselves. Discovering a new aspect of your sexuality or identity doesn’t mean your relationship with others was deceitful – most relationships are infinitely more complex and fluid than we give them credit for.

Right now you’re probably grieving what feels like wasted years. But as you said in your letter, there were wonderful things that came along with your past, which you wouldn’t take back. It’s scary to embark on a life you have no mental blueprint for, especially if you feel like a late bloomer. But there are so many people who have stumbled on this kind of realization later in life, and will be able to relate to your story. Like any major life-change, it will be scary, but it can’t be worse than continuing as you were, in a joyless state of creeping horror.

Don’t worry about pride for now. Start with acceptance and finding some measure of peace, and hopefully in time, pride will follow.

You say you feel like you don’t belong anywhere. But my advice would be to start with the community you already have. You don’t have to rebuild your entire life from scratch. If you haven’t already, seek out the support of friends and family. Maybe pick out a few people who you know will have your back.

In terms of finding love, there’s no hurry. It might make you feel more confident to find some queer friends first. People in the comments might have some ideas of where to look, but most cities have a pride organisation or other community support groups which offer low-pressure social engagements, like walking groups or book clubs. You won’t develop a sense of belonging overnight, but if you keep showing up, even in a low-stakes, nervous straggler kind of way, over time it will start to feel more natural. Some people presumably feel a deep and innate sense of belonging with others, but that’s a high bar, and for many people, showing up regularly and slowly building rapport with a community of strangers is good enough. If you’ve always been a little shy or awkward, being queer won’t magically solve your problems or make you feel as if you belong in the world. But there might be one or two people you really vibe with, and it’s worth putting yourself out there in order to meet them.

So many people discover their queerness later in life, and go on to find fulfilling and happy relationships. But at the moment, you say you can’t even imagine finding a partner. In that case, a good first step might be to let yourself imagine. It’s hard to feel confident about doing anything if you can’t even imaginatively process the possibility. Indulge in a little aspirational daydreaming, and try and open your mind to the idea of what a joyful life might look like. Heterosexual people often get years to do this before getting into serious relationships, so allow yourself that same luxury.

My feeling is that pride is something that will come with self-acceptance. It’s not something you have an obligation to spontaneously summon out of thin air. Be patient, and give yourself time and space to adjust to this new chapter of your life, and hopefully one day the joy will follow.

Please share any and all aspirational advice in the comments below!

A growing revolt from mayors and communities is putting pressure on the government’s fast-track regime, writes Henry Oliver in today’s excerpt from The Bulletin.

To receive The Bulletin in full each weekday, sign up here.

The government’s fast-track legislation was designed to remove “unnecessary red tape” and “fix New Zealand’s economy”. But as fast-tracked developments spring up around the country, a growing chorus of mayors and communities are fighting back.

In Auckland, mayor Wayne Brown estimates hundreds of millions of dollars are being lost in development contributions – fees developers normally pay for infrastructure – because fast-track projects skip the usual consenting process, the Herald’s Katie Bradford reported earlier this week. “Growth should pay for the costs of growth and ratepayers should not be forced to subsidise developers,” he said.

But it’s not just the government’s consistent thorn-in-the-side that’s kicking back against the central government. The mayors of Waimakariri and Selwyn have joined Brown in his backlash and Queenstown mayor John Glover has also supported calls for a pause on fast-track housing developments.

Growth paying for growth’

On Monday, infrastructure minister Chris Bishop told RNZ’s Morning Report he cannot legally pause fast-track housing projects, saying that would require a law change. “The fast-track system was designed to facilitate developments that are out of sequence, so the system was working as intended,” he said.

But he acknowledged the concerns and announced changes to the Local Government Act to allow councils to retroactively amend development contributions for out-of-sequence projects. “Growth paying for growth” was a core government philosophy, he said.

The government can (and does) say no

One recent decision in Canterbury might give other mayors some semblance of hope. As reported on RNZ this morning, Bishop recently declined to refer the Pegasus Golf Course redevelopment under fast-track, a decision Waimakariri mayor Dan Gordon called “a wonderful win for the community.” The developer had planned to turn the 18-hole course into 1000 homes, but the community rallied, gathering more than 16,000 signatures against the proposal. 

Gordon said the council supported fast-track for complex projects of regional or national significance, but “we do not believe it should provide an alternative pathway for wholesale residential developments that do not recognise and respect locally developed district plans and growth strategies, or are planned for areas that are not suitable for development.”

Cooke also reported that National could benefit from an “accidental” overhang if it lost a significant share of its party vote while retaining a large enough portion of its 41 electorate seats.

Devonport fights back

But the Pegasus decision may be the exception. In Devonport, a large apartment and hotel project has been referred for fast-track assessment despite significant local opposition, Stuff’s Sam Smith reported yesterday. The development, called Devonport Lanes, would include a 50-room hotel and residential apartments up to eight storeys, with buildings reaching 27 metres. Six heritage-listed buildings would be refurbished as part of the project.

Chris Bishop approved the referral, saying it would have “significant regional or national benefits” and generate up to $789 million in GDP over 35 years. Local group Devonport Heritage opposes the fast-track referral, which they say bypasses usual submission rights. The group staged a protest launching red balloons to show the impact of eight-storey buildings, arguing they will “screen” views of the local maunga and “dwarf the historic main street buildings,” Stuff reported.

Developer Peninsula Capital defended its plans, with director Mark Hiddleston telling The Post’s Jonathan Killick that it’s not a simple choice between heritage and development. “We’ve never seen this as a choice between heritage and development. These buildings need a future, not just a past, and that’s what we’re trying to give them,” he said. “Devonport is a fantastic place, but its town centre needs people in it and its beautiful heritage buildings need investment, restoration and ongoing care.”

This is what people are telling pollsters. 

What might be the impact of New Zealand politics’ new kids on the blocs?

Less than a month ago, the question was whether or not the Opportunity Party could tip over the critical 5% mark. Since then, three polls appear to have put that to rest, with the teal-decked outfit scoring 6.1% in a Curia poll for the Taxpayers’ Union, 5.2% in a Talbot Mills poll for clients and, most recently, a resounding 8% in a Verian poll for 1News. 

Opportunity has presented itself as an alternative kingmaker to New Zealand First. Party leader Qiulae Wong has renounced “tribalism”, and the rule-in and rule-out gymnastics of an election year, with one exception: they’ve ruled out working with Winston Peters as a foreign minister. 

Christopher Luxon is unimpressed. The National leader has ruled out working with Opportunity, saying, “they’re as centrist as I am an All Black”.

What do voters reckon?

Polling by Curia, conducted at the start of the month, shows a third regard Opportunity as centrist, with about the same number saying they’re unsure. Of the remaining third, most see a leftward party. 

Among those aged 18-39, almost half of respondents consider the Opportunity Party centrist (49%) with the 10% who say leftwing slightly outnumbered by the 13% who say rightwing. 

At the older end of the spectrum, just 25% of those 60-plus think it’s a centrist party, with 37% detecting a leftwing party, more than double the number (15%) who consider them to the right.

The Taxpayers’ Union, which commissioned the Curia poll, said the Opportunity Party’s headline policies of a land-value tax and a universal basic income made it hard to regard them “as anything other than radically left-wing”. A spokesperson for the lobby group said: “The fact that so many voters either see Opportunity as centrist or are unsure where it sits suggests there has not been nearly enough scrutiny of what the party is actually proposing.”

The headline numbers here are broadly consistent with the latest data from Talbot Mills, whose poll for clients was in the field from August 1 to 11. They didn’t offer “centrist” as an alternative to left or right, but “neither”.

Drilling into its numbers, Talbot Mills observed that among those who said they would vote Opportunity, 60% thought the party was neither left or right, with 33% saying left and just 4% right. “If the Opportunity Party ends up holding the balance, the pressure from its own base runs left rather than right,” noted the Talbot Mills commentary.

Among those who told the pollster they knew either a lot or a fair amount about the Opportunity Party – irrespective of whether they intended to vote for them – 47% said leftwing, 22% rightwing and 25% neither.

A majority were yet to draw any conclusions about Qiulae Wong – 21% said favourable, 22% unfavourable, and 57% answered unsure. 

How much do voters know about the party itself? As of the start of this month, most said not a lot. 

Opportunity rejects the idea that understanding the party better means placing it on a left-right spectrum.

In response to commentary urging it to declare where it sits on the measure, Wong said: “We will not slap a ‘left’ or ‘right’ label on our policies or party, just to make life easier for the media.” It was “time to leave the left and right behind”.

This week, Christopher Luxon drew attention to a little-known parliamentary peril: crossing the road. One woman dared to give it a go. This is her harrowing account.

There comes a time in every person’s life when they are forced to confront their biggest fears. For some, it’s getting rid of the rat that keeps squeaking under your floorboards. For the Hayden Donnells of the world, it’s being cancelled in The Spinoff comment section. For prime minister Christopher Luxon, it’s Winston Peters – no, wait, it’s the strip of road outside parliament upon which a cyclist occasionally rides.

Few realise this, but outside the comforting confines of parliament lies a hellscape commonly known as Wellington city. Years of urbanist dictatorship has scarred this land into something unrecognisable, a dystopian skeleton of a city where civilians live in constant fear of being struck by Julie Anne Genter. “What you’ve got is a whole bunch of bike lanes up Molesworth Street that made it very difficult for me getting from my apartment into the parliamentary precinct,” said Luxon on Tuesday night, to a crowd of no doubt weeping voters in the Hutt Valley.

There’s already a woman in front of me standing in the middle of the cycle lane, waiting for the world to stop and let her pass. My heart is racing for her. Is it a death wish? Should I be calling 111? As these thoughts race through my mind, she makes it to the other side. Phew. A close brush with death, narrowly avoided.

And then it’s my turn. A significant breakthrough reveals itself immediately: this part of Molesworth Street is one-way. I need only to turn my head to one side to check for oncoming hazards. Even so, I remain vigilant. You can never really rule out the possibility of a cyclist hooning along at 100km/h and killing you instantly. It’s a good thing nothing else travelling this road has that ability.

I make a move as the row of cars blocking the road is let free by a green light. I’m exposed out here in the wilderness, metaphorically naked as I walk what is possibly the country’s most dangerous road. The lights at the end of the street are blinding. The sounds of the traffic are ringing in my ears. Recent rainfall has made the road reek of petrichor. Is it the sensory overload of the experience that makes this walk difficult for Luxon? Perhaps we’ll never know.

After a harrowing few seconds on the road, my shoes make contact with the footpath on the other side of Molesworth Street. My heart skips a beat as I touch the precious stone wall separating the entitled and the commoners. I look around, hoping for a witness to my bravery. But, alas; some heroes are destined to serve in silence.

It all seemed far too easy, so I have another go. I need to be sure it wasn’t a stroke of beginner’s luck that saved my life at that moment. But this time around, there are no cars (or cyclists) on the road – a clear path to success. Either our prime minister is lying through his teeth, or I may just be the luckiest girl in Wellington. I make a mental note to head to JJ Murphy’s on Cuba Street later and test this theory on the pokies.

As I looked back across the road less travelled, I understood the scale of Luxon’s despair. Sometimes it’s not about the road itself, but the agony of having to make a decision at all. To cross or not to cross? To let yourself be rolled by a few moany MPs or to not? To sack Winston Peters or to not? Often it feels easier to do nothing at all.

Then again, if Luxon ever truly feels his ability to wield power has been hindered by the canyon between the apartment he no longer lives in and his office, he could always use the pedestrian crossing at the traffic lights 10 metres up the road.

The Māori roll is growing, stoked both by new enrolments and voters switching from the general roll. Ātea editor Liam Rātana explores what’s behind the increase and how it could impact the election.

There are now almost 310,000 Māori on the Māori roll, 54,000 more than on the general roll. The 10% difference – 55% to 45% – is the largest discrepancy between the two rolls since 2013, at a time when the results in the Māori seats could have a significant impact on the outcome of the election. Between April 1, 2023 and August 3, 2026, 60,736 people of Māori descent enrolled for the first time – 37,919 of them (62.4%) on the Māori roll. During that same period, 45,572 voters of Māori descent switched from the general roll to the Māori roll, far more than the 28,630 who switched from the Māori roll to the general roll.

Māori can continue to enrol for the first time on either roll until October 25, but can no longer switch between the two until after the election on November 7 – the option of changing from one roll to the other ended on August 6, three months before election day. The Electoral Commission considers the period from March 31 to when the roll-changing option ends to be the “Māori electoral option period”, and says there was more enrolment activity during that period this year compared to 2023. But as the period is several weeks longer this year than in 2023 because of the later election, and because Māori have been able to switch between rolls at any time since the last election, comparing the two periods isn’t particularly helpful.

A more direct comparison is to look at quarters in election years, and in quarter two (April 1 to July 31) of 2026, there were 5,366 new Māori enrolments, 62% of which were on the Māori roll. In quarter two of 2023, there were less than half as many: 2,322 new Māori enrolments (still a majority, 65%, were on the Māori roll).

One factor that could be spurring the early surge of Māori enrolments is the fact that doing so late is no longer an option. That’s thanks to changes to the Electoral Act the government made in December last year, including removing the ability to enrol to vote during the advance voting period (the final two weeks before election day). In response, there have been several campaigns focused on encouraging Māori enrolment, with one of the most popular led by Green Party candidate for Waiariki Tania Waikato, featuring scantily clad Māori men and women.

“It does seem like those sorts of efforts have worked,” associate professor in politics at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University Lara Greaves told The Spinoff.

The boost in numbers on the Māori roll has also been helped by overseas-based Māori, with 11,511 of them enrolled in Māori electorates as of July 1, 2026 – a 67% increase from 6,891 at the 2023 election. Queensland-based enrolment advocates Rachael Marie Johnstone and Nicole Orzecki told RNZ they had seen a surge in interest in Māori overseas wanting to vote, particularly younger people who felt politics was becoming more relevant to them and parliament was no longer the domain of “old white men”.

Despite the rise in enrolments this year, it’s worth noting that slightly fewer Māori are enrolled on either the Māori roll or the general roll than at the time of the last election: 565,092 in total, down 2,000 from 567,000 at the 2023 election. It’s nothing to worry about, according to the Electoral Commission. “It is normal for enrolment numbers to drop between elections on both the general roll and Māori roll, and then increase again before the election. That’s consistent with the pattern we’re seeing this year… We expect this number to increase before the election,” a spokesperson told The Spinoff.

In 2023, just under 61,000 Māori enrolled to vote in the 85-day period between July 20 and election day on October 14, most of them (84%) in the final two weeks. This year there are 80 days between August 6 and October 25, when enrolment closes, so Māori enrolment numbers could see a similar boost – as long as the early roll closure has been communicated successfully, and people aren’t trying to enrol in the two weeks before election day.

At its campaign launch last weekend, Te Pāti Māori announced it would be focusing solely on the electorate vote across the seven Māori seats and not campaigning for the party vote. The idea is to engineer an overhang of up to seven seats in parliament, increasing the likelihood of the left bloc being able to form the next government.

“This is the very first time the Māori roll will be determining who the next prime minister is,” Te Pāti Māori co-leader Rawiri Waititi said recently on The Hui. “If Te Pāti Māori is able to win the seven Māori seats, the Greens hold on to their 12-13% [of the vote] and Labour holds on to their 34%, we’ve got a change in government.”

While the tactic may be good in theory, there is also an argument to be made for Māori remaining on the general roll. With 10% more Māori voters on the Māori roll than the general roll, Māori will have less influence in the general electorates. The seven Māori electorates are all but guaranteed to go to either Labour, Te Pāti Māori or the Greens, but having fewer Māori voters voting in the general electorates could potentially decrease the number of votes left-leaning candidates there receive.

Getting Māori to turn out and vote will be a key focus for the left. Turnout for voters of Māori descent across the general and Māori rolls was 70.3% at the last election, down from 72.9% in 2020 and 8% lower than non-Māori turnout. Turnout of voters on the Māori roll was 68%, down from 69.1% in 2020.

“The regulatory impact statement [for the Electoral Amendment Act 2025] showed that 48% of 18- to 19-year-old Māori who voted last time enrolled in that two-week period [before the election],” said Greaves. “So we were really at risk of enrolment changes disenfranchising Maori. I’m not totally confident Māori enrolment will translate to votes.”

Based on enrolment numbers, the Māori electorates and their chosen representatives will have their largest ever mandate. If Te Pāti Māori does manage to claim all seven Māori seats, they may be well placed to force a backtrack from Labour leader Chris Hipkins, who recently ruled out any members of Te Pāti Māori holding senior positions in a cabinet led by him.

“We’ll see come November 8,” Waititi said.

Books editor Claire Mabey reports from the ceremony at Pipitea Marae, Wellington.

Welcome to the annual celebration of Aotearoa children’s books. Watch along on the livestream below, and read the live blog below that, from 6.30pm.

‘Mostly I’m finding: People who want a lover on the side.’

Want to be part of Dating Files? Fill out the questionnaire here.

Age: 58

Gender: Cis woman

Sexuality: Bisexual/aromantic

Ethnicity: Pākehā and Māori

Religion: Atheist

Occupation: Editor

My living location is: Kāpiti Coast

The apps I’m on: None

I’m looking for: Community

Mostly I’m finding: People who want a lover on the side

My last serious relationship was: fifteen years ago. We mutually became less interested in the sexual and romantic aspects, and have continued the friendship aspects. Perfect.

The worst date I ever had: 1992. Trying to explain to a guy from a party that just because I was super keen on spending the wee hours prowling round the city and jumping the fence to go skinny dipping in the Centennial pools together didn’t mean I was interested in romance or sex with him. He was disappointed and left, I felt under-appreciated.

The best date I ever had: We sung together, went home together, had a wonderful night, and when she explained the next morning she wasn’t up for anything more I was so relieved as I felt the same. We are close friends to this day.

The most regrettable thing I ever did on a date: I used to think it was OK, even endearing, to theatrically slap someone if they mildly offended me (thanks, popular culture). I cringe to think back about that.

The best thing a date ever did for me: Drove me home. It was 600 kilometres away.

The biggest red flag I’ve seen on a date: Kept making juvenile jokes about “boobies”, What are you, 12?

On a date I usually wear: Jeans and a T-shirt, or whatever suits the occasion. My dad and I sometimes get dressed up as all heck for the theatre, which disappointingly nobody else seems to.

I have sex when: We both feel inclined – a reliable go-to is tipsy bumps leading to a clinch, with plausable deniability on both sides if needed.

I wish dating was: unnecessary in order to maintain a decent social life.

This is what I think about who pays on dates: I can’t imagine not paying 50/50, unless I knew them well and they were significantly richer or poorer than me.

Three words that describe my dream date: adventurous, unentitled, humourous.

My dating advice is: Broaden your definition of a date

Want to be part of Dating in NZ? Fill out the questionnaire here.

Exploitation of the overhang loophole has always been possible, but no party has tried it because of how voters are likely to react.

Electoral systems don’t only have rules, they also have norms: general understandings that encourage fairness between election participants. With its recent law changes banning voter enrolment during the advance voting period, the government has undermined one norm, but there’s now a suggestion that Te Pāti Māori may try to undermine another by attempting to engineer an overhang to undermine the proportionality of the MMP voting system. That’s more serious.

If there’s one thing most New Zealanders know about MMP it’s that MMP is a proportional voting system: the party vote matters most and as long as a party crosses one of the thresholds (5% of the party vote, or one electorate) then that party’s share of the seats in parliament is going to line up with its share of the party vote.

That’s a pretty big reason why New Zealanders voted to ditch the first past the post system in favour of MMP. They had seen an electoral system where the share of votes a party got seemed unrelated to how many MPs that party got, and they wanted change. But the New Zealanders who designed MMP, campaigned for MMP and voted for MMP (twice) saw some benefit in people being able to elect a local MP as well, which is why we didn’t end up with an internationally more common list-only system. We have a system where people vote for a local MP and then also a party via their party vote, with the party vote being more important in determining the overall result.

One consequence of this mixed system is that sometimes a party can have one or more MPs with very strong local support without the party having much support nationwide. A party can have more local MPs elected than their share of the overall party vote would suggest is fair. This creates an overhang, with the size of parliament increasing to ensure that all the other parties get their fair share of seats. It happened in 2014, when United Future MP Peter Dunne won Ōhāriu, while his party got only 0.22% of the party vote. And it’s happened several times with Te Pāti Māori doing well across the Māori seats, while not getting a high enough party vote to account for all of the individual seats it won.

But while an overhang has been created several times, two things have never happened: An overhang hasn’t changed which party got to govern, and no-one has tried to engineer an artificial overhang in order to deliberately cause a disproportionate result.

There have long been devoted party stalwarts who have argued that their political party should try to deliberately engineer an overhang by separating the MPs who can run in safe seats from the party that would contest the party vote in order to over-inflate the share of seats in parliament, but these proposals have always been rejected because MPs know voters would punish such shenanigans. Now, for the first time at this election, Te Pāti Māori appear to be indicating they may use the Māori seats to try this strategy: telling their supporters to only use their electorate votes to support the party’s candidates, while suggesting they use their party vote to support another party.

If Te Pāti Māori succeeds in using the Māori seats to undermine the proportionality of parliament it may work in the party’s favour for a term or two, but it also creates risks to the long-term public acceptance of the Māori seats.

International experience is that when one party undermines political norms, other parties will escalate in response. This has happened in elections in Lesotho, Albania, and Italy, where one party’s attempt to subvert the electoral system, saw others respond in kind. In New Zealand, this could mean a couple of things: National deciding that it’s now willing to go along with proposals from New Zealand First and ACT to get rid of the Māori seats, or parties on the right reacting by trying the same thing, running separate candidates in safe seats to create retaliatory disproportionality.

Exploitation of the overhang loophole has always been possible, but no party has tried it because the expectation is that voters will not put up with it. If Te Pāti Māori decides it’s worth the risk to try to deliberately undermine the proportionality of the election result, and this affects who governs, there will be a response. It could be bad news for the Māori seats, or for MMP generally. Or they could fail in their attempt because voters punish their candidate for attempting to play games with democracy.