Here come the election 2023 attack ads.
Here come the election 2023 attack ads.

OPINIONPoliticsMay 11, 2023

National and Labour are sharpening up campaign attack lines 

Here come the election 2023 attack ads.
Here come the election 2023 attack ads.

From ‘Coalition of chaos’ to ‘Can’t trust National’, the narrative sculptors are hard at work, writes Toby Manhire.

As far as metaphors go, it was basic and it was effective. The blue team in sleek harmony, rowing like champions. The red team in a dinghy, with bits of green team thrown in – a shambles, rowing in different directions. The National Party was happy with its 2014 campaign ad, but happier still when the emergence of Kim Dotcom’s Internet Party forced a change in post-production: one of the rowers was painted purple.

“The ‘Laboureens’ boat ended up being used in our advertising much more than we intended, as the opposition campaign steadily appeared more and more like that boat,” Stephen Joyce, the party campaign chair, would later write

Nine years on, but no longer the ship of government, National is rolling out a similar line, dusting off its own version of what John Key, in a more theatrical image, attacked as the “devilbeast” on the other side. The defection of a frustrated Meka Whaitiri from Labour to te Pāti Māori, combined with Elizabeth Kerekere quitting the Green Party amid an internal inquiry into her dealings with staff and MPs, inspired the coinage “coalition of chaos”. 

“Coalition of chaos,” said Christopher Luxon, at least 20 times. “A week of chaos in parliament,” said Nicola Willis. “Coalition of chaos,” said Paul Goldsmith. “Coalition of chaos,” said Chris Bishop. “Chaotic coalition,” said Mark Mitchell, in a courageous syntactical variation.

Given the years of its own internecine bloodshed, it might seem rich for National to decry signs of political chaos elsewhere. But they’ve “put that chapter behind us”, deputy leader Nicola Willis told reporters. “When we look over the other side and we see what they’re going through now we know what a mighty distraction it really is.” 

“They clearly haven’t looked in the mirror very much lately,” Hipkins told RNZ in response, insisting he led a “stable and functioning government”. Luxon said: “We’re under new management.”

Yesterday Luxon conclusively ruled out working with te Pāti Māori. That was a shift in substance, but there was also a shift rhetoric, with the leader of the opposition warning of “separatism” and using the words “one person, one vote” in a media statement and an email to supporters – which had some hearing troubling echoes of Don Brash’s infamous Orewa speech in 2005.

Labour ministers had a go at National in the house yesterday for being, as Nanaia Mahuta put it, “relentlessly, relentlessly negative”. National can reasonably counter, of course, that the clue is in the word opposition, but it’s true, too, that as Labour road tests attack lines of its own, five months out from the election, it can hardly claim relentless positivity. “You can’t trust National on health,” said Ayesha Verrall last week, responding to a disingenuous presentation of nursing numbers by her opposite, National spokesperson Shane Reti. 

Such a line is as old as party politics, but it became clear that it was pencilled into the Labour 2023 script when it appeared twice in news-pegged ads on social media. Labour is nudging here at what it considers a particular weak spot for National, and its leader especially. While those ads were aimed at Reti and  Bishop, they’re posted in the knowledge that Luxon continues to struggle to win the confidence of New Zealanders.

Not just confidence – as reflected in yesterday’s polling by Curia for the Taxpayers’ Union, which pointed to National forming a government with Act despite Luxon recording net favourability of negative-7, a full 29 points behind Hipkins on plus-22 – but trust. Here, the most troubling data point National has blinked at in recent times came in a Reid/Newshub poll at the start of the year, where the results were strikingly similar.

It revealed 53% saying they trusted Hipkins; 27% said, nope, don’t trust the guy. For Luxon, the corresponding figures were 37% and 44%. Which gives Hipkins a net trust rating of plus-26 points, compared with seven below zero for Luxon. Little wonder, then, that Labour is tapping the trust nerve.

Next week’s “no frills” budget will to some extent reset the political argument, but already the rival campaigns are testing the waters for the campaign beyond that. Whether it's "coalition of chaos", "Can't trust the other lot", or whatever is next conjured up, the line is sure to be some variation on "and what matters to ordinary New Zealanders is a total focus on the economy and the cost of living".

Chris and Chris are determined to present themselves as the safe pair of hands. Both will speak of stability. Of serious times. Both will say “laser focused” a thousand times. Often it will be sometimes hard to tell one from the other.

That scrum at the centre line leaves a lot of open space across the field for the smaller parties to exploit. That’s measured already in the low polling numbers for National and Labour, and correspondingly strong results for the smaller parties. In February last year, the Curia/TPU poll gave the two main parties more than 80% support combined; yesterday it was 68%. 

If there’s any surprise it’s that Labour has yet to fire many salvos at National’s own sculling partners for 2023. Act, near certainly; New Zealand First, who have broken with tradition and ruled out Labour and remain “a question for another day”, per Luxon – possibly. Still, there’s a lot of water to go under the bridge, and plenty of paddling to get there.

Keep going!
High viz couture: Desley Simpson, deputy mayor. (Image: Supplied/Archi Banal)
High viz couture: Desley Simpson, deputy mayor. (Image: Supplied/Archi Banal)

OPINIONPoliticsMay 10, 2023

Desley Simpson has got it

High viz couture: Desley Simpson, deputy mayor. (Image: Supplied/Archi Banal)
High viz couture: Desley Simpson, deputy mayor. (Image: Supplied/Archi Banal)

Auckland’s deputy mayor has once again met the moment. So who is Desley Simpson?

Visible and accessible. Articulate and adept. Desley Simpson has become a familiar face and comforting voice to Aucklanders in the seven months since she was appointed deputy mayor. In the past she might have dismissed ideas of running for higher office, thinking her wealth, privilege and penchant for colourful designer clothing would count against her. Turns out, at least in an emergency, people mostly just want a leader.

To some, she first leapt into view when she leapt in to rescue a colleague from a broiling altercation with journalists at a news conference after the January floods. In the days that followed, and again after Cyclone Gabrielle a few weeks later, she was everywhere, across radio and television, print and press conference, issuing updates on the impact and response, underlining the critical civil defence messages, expressing heartfelt empathy with those whose homes and lives had been thrown into turmoil.

Yesterday, then, as Auckland recoiled again in the face of flash floods, closed schools and gridlocked streets, there was some reassurance in the news that she had been delegated emergency powers. No shade there, to be clear, on the mayor, who was away on council business in Sydney – there is no cause for him to be upbraided in this case for being out of the frame, let alone for not rushing out with buckets

Unsurprisingly, uncomplicatedly, Simpson resumed her role fronting the council response – laying out the state of play, speaking directly to those affected (“my heart goes out to you, honestly”), acknowledging unambiguously the role of climate change in making such weather events more frequent and more severe. 

Humane, calm and armed with all the latest information, she took questions on radio and TV, and at Auckland Emergency Management briefings. She rocked up to this morning’s, at 8am, having spent most of yesterday and half the night at the emergency response centre, sunglasses perched optimistically on her head. She had listened to the experts, and here she was, an elected representative, to relay the details as simply and clearly as possible. 

Desley Simpson at Auckland Emergency Management briefings over the last 24 hours

Who is Desley Simpson? Standing under the banner of Communities & Residents, the local body analogue of the National Party, Simpson was first elected to council in the Ōrākei ward in 2016, and quickly built rapport around the table. Phil Goff appointed her chair of the finance committee in 2019. 

Efeso Collins, the centre-left former councillor beaten by some distance in his tilt at the mayoralty last October, spoke warmly of his friendship with Simpson – the two used to sit together at council meetings so they could share experiences from the areas they represented – respectively the poorest and wealthiest wards. “What that has done has allowed me to understand how people in her area see the world, the same way I can invite her to understand how our people in this part of Auckland see the world,” said Collins.

She describes herself as focused on “delivering value for money and efficiencies” and points to “a long political lineage”. Her great-great uncle Sir Henry Brett was a media mogul and mayor of Auckland in the 1870s. Her grandfather, Sir James Donald, was a government minister and chair of the Auckland Harbour Board in the 1840s.

She is an accomplished pianist. She drives a Porsche 911 with personalised plate DESLEY. Her first husband was Scott Simpson, the National MP for Coromandel. She is now married to Peter Goodfellow, the formidable, long-serving former president of the National Party. She has two children and four grandchildren, and told the Herald: “My great achievement is my children.”

Simpson with husband Peter Goodfellow, at the Halberg Awards in February. (Photo: Fiona Goodall/Getty Images)

In an enthralling interview with Stuff’s Adam Dudding, she was asked whether she might ever seek mayoral chains. “I think my answer at the moment is one never says never. At the moment I am more than challenged being deputy mayor.” 

Later in the interview, on the subject of her style and appearance and judging books by covers, she said: “Why haven’t I stood for mayor? [Because] I never thought anyone would vote for someone who looks like me. And I’m not going to change the way I am or who I am.”

She said: “Yet I have seen white man after white man after white man put their hand up. And it doesn’t seem to matter for a man, but as a woman, you can be judged by what you wear, what your hair looks like. Phil Goff I think lived in a grey suit, you know? But I’m me. I love nice things. I love colour. I can afford that and I like to wear it – it’s a reflection of my personality. But it’s tough out there for some of Auckland. And I do my utmost best to understand what it’s like to be in areas outside of my own.”

Simpson has consistently defended the mayor in the face of criticisms. In another fascinating interview, she told the Herald’s Bernard Orsman, “we are very complementary…the sum of two parts makes a good team”. 

It is more than the high-viz couture that makes her the most visible of those parts, however. The Mike Bush led inquiry into the response to the January floods identified a range of shortcomings, spanning the emergency management, the council staff and the mayor. The report, which included five mentions of the word “empathy”, stated: “The issues of leadership exposed by this crisis must be addressed. Key leaders in Auckland City failed to appreciate the vital importance of visible leadership and frequent public communication during a time of crisis.”

Upon the release of the report, there was no sign of the city’s senior directly elected representative. Who was first to speak publicly on behalf of the leadership? Desley Simpson, deputy mayor.

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Toby Manhire
— Editor-at-large