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PoliticsDecember 18, 2019

New Zealand politics in 2019: we pick the champs and the flops

2019year-pols

As the sun sets on 2019, The Spinoff bounds into the political ocean for one final dip, in our traditional survey of the year (and nervous peer at the year to come). First up, our experts name and acclaim the champs and flops of 2019.

Alex Braae

Champs

  1. David Seymour
    In pure horse-race terms, his achievements this year are undeniable. He started the year with a party languishing in joke-territory in the polls; now they’re consistently scoring high enough to bring in other MPs. He successfully got the End of Life Choice bill through (pending a referendum). And he has carved out an electorally handy niche as the 1 on a string of 119-1 parliamentary votes.
  2. Chlöe Swarbrick
    No other first term MP has had remotely the impact she has, and she has managed to take a lot of the toxicity out of the previously ugly cannabis debate. If legalisation wins next year, it’ll be largely because of her.
  3. Adrian Orr
    For a Reserve Bank governor, he was incredibly outspoken about the need for a fiscal stimulus from the government. It took all year, but he finally got it in December.

Flops

  1. John Tamihere
    Six weeks out, I was seriously predicting to quite a few people that I thought he was going to win. His incredibly noisy and raucous campaign looked like it was going to get immense cut-through with the voting public – especially those groups that are over-represented in voting turnout figures. But in the end, it was just sound and fury, signifying nothing.
  2. Justin Lester
    The former Wellington mayor had the totally opposite problem. Ran a fairly muted campaign and got found out, even in an election which largely returned Labour and Green sympathising councillors.
  3. The Capital Gains Tax refusal from Labour
    The sheer wtf-ness of that moment still stands out, given how important a CGT was in the discussions and final report of the Tax Working Group. Not just a flop, but a moment of profoundly pathetic weakness from Labour to refuse to fight for something that there was previously every indication they believed in.

Linda Clark

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    She is the leader the rest of the world wishes it had.
  2. Simon Bridges
    Because he is still standing when so many doubted he would be (cue Elton John – who I suspect Simon might listen to).
  3. Andrew Little/Jan Logie
    Moving the dial on how the justice system recognises and deals with violence against women.

Flops

  1. Phil Twyford
    Nice guy, but …
  2. Alfred Ngaro’s Christian Party
    Over before it even began.
  3. Garrick Tremain
    “NZ’s funniest and most perceptive political cartoonist”, apparently. Children dying is never funny.

Emma Espiner

Champs

  1. Winston Peters
    You don’t have to like it, but he has demonstrated that he can do whatever the hell he wants as the dominant coalition partner in this government. Don’t believe the polls either, reports of Winston’s demise are always exaggerated.
  2. Shane Jones
    See above. Verbal reprimands aside, Matua Shane has few constraints on his behaviour and is out there spending the Provincial Growth Fund like he wants to win an election.
  3. Shane Jones’ hat

Flops

  1. N/A
    I’m a Hufflepuff and therefore incapable of cruelty, even towards politicians. (Don’t judge me for reading Harry Potter as a grown woman. It’s been a hard year)

Morgan Godfery

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    She didn’t go to Ihumātao, or tax landlords on their capital gains, or implement all the recommendations of her welfare working group, or back any policy that might dramatically reshape the country for the better, and yet she was still the right leader at the right time in 2019. No one can match Jacinda Ardern’s quick leadership, her crisp communication, and her sheer compassion and care for ordinary people and the victims of extraordinarily vile things. She is already a historically important prime minister, and is increasingly precious to the world.
  2. Pania Newton
    Pania is a rangatira, and her work weaving the people together to fight for Ihumātao is confirmation of it. I’m not sure where she finds the energy, the humility, and allies to win, yet she does. And she wins and wins and wins. Fletcher Building are pausing construction. The over the top police presence is gone. The Auckland Council and the government are in talks to purchase the land. Long may Pania’s winning streak, with the help of her cousins and SOUL, continue.
  3. Christchurch
    People rag on the garden city. It’s funny sometimes. But name a New Zealand city that has been through more, and that each and every time rises to the occasion with strength, vulnerability, and a fierce commitment to their neighbours. Resilient is a bad word for the city and its people because they’re honest enough to admit that they haven’t quite recovered. The pain from this year’s massacre, and all that happened before, lingers. But people are supporting each other, and that’s why Christchurch is a special champ.

Flops

  1. The National Party social media team
    STRIKE FORCE RAPTOR RWAAARR!
  2. Simon Bridges
    SLUSHIES!
  3. The Greens
    COMPROMISE ALL OUR PRINCIPLES!

Liam Hehir

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    Lit the way through our darkest hour and will always be remembered for that.
  2. James Shaw
    As a minor party leader and government minister has one of the most thankless jobs in politics. Has weathered the criticisms to achieve significant bipartisan legislative reform.
  3. Simon Bridges
    Was being written off by all and sundry at the start of the year but has kept his cool and, if polling is to be believed, now has the Beehive within striking range.
Flops
  1. Phil Twyford
    The 2019 Clare Curran – which is a shame given he’s got his head screwed on the right way on a number of issues.
  2. Winston Peters
    Now looking doubtful to get back in next year and the opaque dealings of the NZ First Foundation will continue to dog him and his government.
  3. Shane Jones
    Continued to undermine his prime minister and government without any discernible corresponding electoral payoff.

Stephen Jacobi

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    Led the country through extraordinarily difficult moments.
  2. James Shaw
    Idealistic but pragmatic when it comes to getting things done.
  3. Todd Muller
    Can see the big picture beyond the partisan divide.

Flops

  1. Jami-Lee Ross
    Need any more be said?
  2. Clayton (“we are the law”) Mitchell
    Ditto.
  3. Protectionists, isolationists, conspiracy theorists
    Once again they have not managed to disrupt NZ’s engagement with the rest of the world.

Annabelle Lee

Champs

  1. Māori midwives and Ngāti Kahungunu
    And everyone who stood up to Oranga Tamariki and said not one more baby.
  2. Marama Davidson
    For her staunch championing of Papatūānuku, te pani me te rawa kore.
  3. Jacinda Ardern
    Who despite not being brave enough on Māori issues has outstanding emotional intelligence during a crisis.

Flops

  1. Grainne Moss and Oranga Tamariki
    For presiding over record rates of Māori babies being removed from their whānau and placed into state care.
  2. WINZ
    Dor its disappointing lack of urgency to reduce the suffering of the most vulnerable New Zealanders
  3. Strike Force Raptor
    Lols.

Toby Manhire

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    A truly formidable leader, both in terms of holding a motley government together, and most extraordinarily in her response to national catastrophe. It’s true that most of the global adulation is really a kind of reverse projection: the subtext of the acclaim is Why can’t we have her instead of the bloke we’re lumped with, but it pays to flip it around. Which prominent world leader would you swap her for?
  2. Simon Bridges
    The leader of the opposition showed wells of tenacity by emerging through the flaming baptism called Jami-Lee Ross stronger. He’s been churning out the policy documents and the memes, notwithstanding the slushies. Perhaps most remarkably at all, no one is talking with less than a year to the election about a Judith Collins challenge.
  3. Chlöe Swarbrick
    You shouldn’t really know the name of a first-term MP unless they’ve found themselves at the centre of some degrading scandal, but Swarbrick has had a belter: not so much the “OK, boomer”, thing, though that was good, but in the debate on cannabis legislation there is no one, in or out of politics, who can explain the argument with such cogency and resistance to being dragged into sensationalist cul-de-sacs. Paradoxically, in order not to meld the Greens’ platform with that of the yes vote, she may end up less visible on the issue in 2020 than by rights she should be.

Flops

  1. Phil Twyford
    When self-confidence and urgency tips over into hubris: a case study.
  2. The NZ Labour Party
    Good intentions count for nothing when you can so gravely and indefensibly let down a young volunteer.
  3. Small parties
    The Destiny one and the Green-Blue one and the Conservatives and the rebooted TOP one: all seem doomed to fall well short. It’s a shame; we could use more stripes in parliament. The Māori Party could yet stage a comeback, but otherwise it looks like a lock-out, thanks to a daft, obsolete 5% threshold.

Danyl Mclauchlan

Champs

  1. Simon Bridges
    A dead man walking at the start of the year, seemingly fatally wounded by the Jamie Lee-Ross saga and its fallout. But he’s still standing, somehow, and slowly clawing his way up in the preferred PM polls. The odds of him being prime minister in 12 months time can’t be less than 30%.
  2. Jacinda Ardern 
    An unusual Prime Minister: a global celebrity superstar who is not particularly popular with domestic voters compared to her predecessors, Helen Clark and John Key, at comparable points in the electoral cycle. This deficit probably has little to do with Ardern herself and everything to do with the nature of her government, which is mediocre and dysfunctional on multiple levels. If anyone other than Ardern was leading it, it would be utterly doomed.
  3. James Shaw
    (Provisional; also, disclaimer, this nominee is an old friend)
    Shaw won cross party consensus on the Carbon Zero Bill, which will either turn out to be the single most important and enduring achievement of this government or an utterly meaningless and futile gesture. We probably won’t know which is which for another few terms. So ask me again in 10 years.

Flops

  1. Shane Jones
    There’s this recurring phrase Shane Jones uses to describe himself in the media. Whenever he’s in trouble for breaching the cabinet manual or failing to declare a conflict of interest or being investigated by the auditor general, or whatever, he often explains his actions by describing himself as “a retail politician”. Retail politics is a term of art politicians and political operatives use to describe direct voter contact: doorknocking, going to school galas, doing walk-arounds at malls, kissing babies, posing for selfies. Jones actually does very little of this: he’s more of a business dinner schmoozer. So he doesn’t seem to know what the term he uses to describe himself means, and I don’t think any of his party’s available voters do either: When non-politics nerds hear the term “retail politician” I wonder if they assume that politician is for sale. No actual “retail politician” would ever describe themselves as one, so there’s an impressive triple flop going on there.
  2. Phil Twyford
    There’s an important lesson in Twyford’s highly visible failures across multiple, crucial portfolios. It’s conventional wisdom across much of the left that political problems are easily solved: you simply use the power of the state and throw lots of money at things, and you’re done. Twyford symbolises this new government’s painful lesson that many hard, unsolved problems are unsolved because they’re hard.
  3. Nigel Haworth
    If National botched sexual assault allegations as badly as Labour’s governance body there would still be crowds of protesters dressed in Handmaid’s Tale costumes chanting outside the party HQ, but the Labour Party President’s resignation successfully quarantined the fallout from the scandal.

Shane Te Pou

Champs

  1. Andrew Little
    Whether it’s Treaty negotiations, criminal justice reform or preparation for the referenda next year,  Andrew Little continues to impress with his work ethic and ability to get things done. He is building an impressive policy legacy.
  2. Chris Hipkins
    In a portfolio rife with landmines, the education minister has shown deft footwork, bringing in some difficult but necessary reforms.
  3. NZ First
    The party has finished the year strongly as the debate around moving the port heats up and infrastructure takes centre stage of the coalition’s agenda.

Flops

  1. Phil Twyford
    The Kiwibuild continues to plague the Coalition as its signature policy failure — and his performance on roading isn’t much better.
  2. The National Party
    The oh-so-predictable lurch to the populist right on law and order suggests they’re willing to trade sound, evidence-based policy for a few votes. It could also derail sensible drug law reform.
  3. Iain Lees-Galloway
    Has not impressed as an error-prone immigration minister.

Claire Robinson

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    For proving the doubters wrong about whether she could be a mother to an infant and a highly competent leader at the same time.
  2. Simon Bridges
    For quickly coming to grips with what is required of a leader of the opposition and dispelling questions about whether he is the right person to lead National into the next election.
  3. David Seymour
    For showing compassion and tenacity in driving through the euthanasia bill.

Flops

  1. Winston Peters
    Dor wasting voters’ time and resources by sending euthanasia and cannabis reform to referendums. The system of government we have chosen for ourselves is not direct democracy but representative democracy, which means we, the people, vote for representatives who have the responsibility to vote and enact policy initiatives on our behalf, whether the parties have campaigned for it or not.
  2. Trevor Mallard
    The man is charged with stamping out bullying in parliament, yet cannot recognise this in his own behaviour.
  3. Jacinda Ardern
    For not visiting Ihumātao. Her idol Michael Joseph Savage would not have thought twice about visiting, in order to gain as much first-hand knowledge about the situation.

Trish Sherson

Champs

  1. New Zealanders
    For just getting on with making great stuff happen/looking after each other/their whanau/mates/communities/businesses (regardless of what the politicians are squabbling over).
  2. James Shaw
    The proud father of the Carbon Zero Act supported across the house and welcomed by a broad spectrum of business. In the year of delivery, the only minister who managed to have more than hot air to show for hard labour.
  3. David Seymour
    He’s taken his political career off life support with his work on the End of Life Choice Bill. With guaranteed election year profile and coverage around the referendum on the Bill in 2020, he could be the wild card of this election, bringing in a couple of MPs to give National options.

Flops

  1. The year of delivery
    At least know you’ve got a date before you announce you’re having a baby.
  2. Phil Twyford
    (Again.)
  3. Working Groups

Ben Thomas

Champs

  1. Jacinda Ardern
    The greatest moments of Ardern’s leadership so far are ones she would never have wished for, in the tragic wake of the Christchurch shootings and the Whakaari eruption. She has held together an uneasy coalition and her decisiveness over Auckland’s port has probably bought stability from NZ First heading into election year.
  2. James Shaw
    Shaw has faced critics from within his own party for what disgruntled activists see as his pragmatism, but he steered the Zero Carbon Act through with support from all major parties, a huge achievement that will nonetheless never satisfy those who yearn for Metiria Turei’s return.
  3. David Seymour
    Most party leaders will be happy with how they end 2019. Simon Bridges is still in his job and within a whisker of government on some polls. Winston Peters is beset by erratic colleagues but seems to have secured the enormous legacy of moving the port. However David Seymour alone has doubled or tripled his party’s polling (from an admittedly low base), got further with the vexed issue of assisted dying than any MP before him, and on at least one recent poll is an unlikely Kingmaker in 2020.

Flops

  1. Phil Twyford
    Kiwibuild was a one (compound) word refutation of the “year of delivery”, and no sooner had the Prime Minister stripped Twyford of that responsibility than the mess of Auckland’s light rail project bubbled to the surface. Can turn it around and feature as a winner next year if his urban development authority and funding mechanisms finally get some houses built.
  2. David Clark
    Seemingly unable to translate Labour’s much derided commissions of inquiry and working groups – and the better part of $1.9 billion in the “Wellbeing Budget” – into any meaningful action on mental health.
  3. Chris Hipkins
    Perhaps an unfair inclusion, since he has performed well as education minister and leader of the House. As state services minister however he has allowed the old boys empire building of the state services commissioner to go unchecked, and allowed Peter Hughes to seemingly play favourites and shield failing chief executives like Gabs “hackers did it” Makhlouf.

 

Keep going!
Futurist artist Luigi Russolo with his assistant Piatti and the noise machine, 1914. He was also a painter.   (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Futurist artist Luigi Russolo with his assistant Piatti and the noise machine, 1914. He was also a painter. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

PoliticsDecember 18, 2019

In the attention economy, bullshit wins, and you’re helping shovel it along

Futurist artist Luigi Russolo with his assistant Piatti and the noise machine, 1914. He was also a painter.   (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Futurist artist Luigi Russolo with his assistant Piatti and the noise machine, 1914. He was also a painter. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

In politics the worst ideas and most deceitful statements are often the most amplified, and therefore the most successful, writes Danyl Mclauchlan.

Back in early 2016, as the UK hurtled towards the Brexit referendum, Dominic Cummings, the director of the Vote Leave campaign – now special adviser to Boris Johnson and one of the architects of his electoral triumph – had a problem. Like most political operatives Cummings invested heavily in market research. Who were his available voters? What messages were most impactful at persuading them? His focus groups and online testing showed that when voters were informed that EU membership cost the UK about £150 million a week, most of them were shocked at the sum. “Why can’t we give that money to the NHS?” one focus group member demanded. Cummings tossed that question into his campaign’s next round of tests and found that this message was incredibly persuasive.

His problem was: how could he get that argument into the national media? A news story is, by definition, something new, and the UK had been paying EU membership fees since the 1980s. Nobody in the wider electorate knew about the EU fee, but everyone in the political and media class did. Cummings’ most powerful message had no news value. There was no story.

Until there was. It turned out that when Margaret Thatcher negotiated the UK’s membership fee in 1984 (the Conservatives under Thatcher were pro-Europe; in the previous election Labour campaigned to leave and were heavily defeated) she worked out a rebate. The reasons for this are rather technical, but basically there was a pre-rebate amount which was subjected to a complicated calculation that reduced it by about two thirds, and this reduced amount was the actual membership fee that the UK paid.

So Cummings launched a now infamous campaign arguing that the UK paid £350 million per week: the pre-rebate amount. This message was (a) extremely misleading and (b) extremely newsworthy. Remain campaigners fixated on the accuracy of the statistic – the Leave campaign was lying! – which was exactly what Cummings wanted them to do. By litigating its accuracy his opponents amplified his core message – his “deeper truth”, as he saw it – and the issue his Campaign Leave most wanted to talk about dominated the end weeks of the referendum. Which it won.

Twenty years ago access to media coverage was controlled via the notorious gatekeepers: editors and senior journalists who decided what the news was and who got included or excluded from it. And this system had plenty of downsides but did make it harder for transparently bad actors like Cummings to swing crucial elections in advanced democracies.

As the world keeps reminding us, that media model no longer exists: the news value of a story is no longer defined by its palatability to gatekeepers, or anyone else. Instead, in a world of basically infinite content, news value is created by the ability of a story to maximise audience attention as it competes against rival forms of content: every political story vies for attention against stories about wildfires, Trump, celebrity feuds, evil Daenerys, the relentless white noise of coups, protests, riots, counterrevolutions, along with video games, streaming content, group chats, infinite cats, infinite sports, infinite porn.

There’s a suite of very well known techniques that marketing experts and political propagandists use to capture our attention and win “cut-through”. One of the most powerful is to amplify our affiliation to some identity group under threat by a rival group. Is “OK Boomer” hate speech? Is “Me Too” going too far? Are millennials ruining everything? Is the white race being replaced? Is the toxic masculinity making the men manspread? This isn’t a new tool, but the terrible beauty of the modern internet is that it curates our media consumption so that all of us can feel like brave members of an oppressed in-group, punching up and fighting against injustice against our enemies, who all feel exactly the same way.

The essayist Jia Tolentino has a great metaphor to describe this phenomenon: looking at the internet is like looking into a trick mirror, one of those distorted mirrors you see at fairs or kids’ museums. The modern internet shows us a reflection of ourselves in which our group affiliation and sense of opposition and threat are grotesquely distended while our real-world relationships shrink away to nothing, because real world relationships are hard to commodify and transform into advertising revenue, but group affiliation and conflict is easy money. And the more we gaze at this distorted image of ourselves, our relationships and political affiliations, the easier it is to mistake it for reality.

Late in the 2017 New Zealand election campaign, National’s Finance Minister Steven Joyce alleged there was a “$11.7 billion dollar fiscal hole” in the Labour Party’s fiscal plan. This was an extremely doubtful assertion. Many commentators labelled it “fake news”. It became one of the decisive talking points of the campaign – “Was there a hole or wasn’t there?” – and some pollsters credited it with stopping the rise of Jacindamania, arresting Labour’s astonishing ascent in the polls after Jacinda Ardern became leader.

But National has attacked the credibility of Labour’s spending in every single election since the paleolithic era. Here, for example, is John Key in 2011 alleging that there is a $17 billion dollar “fiscal hole” in Labour’s books:

Prime Minister John Key and Labour leader Phil Goff have gone head-to-head in a town hall debate dominated by the economy and the Christchurch rebuild. The leaders then turned their attention to the economy, when Key pressed Goff on his spending promises, which he said adds up to a $17 billion hole. 

Key told Goff: ”It ain’t there son, there is no tax revenue. Show me the money.” He told the audience Goff was going to borrow money ”from the Chinese”. Later he said: ”It’s not magic, if you spend it, you have to earn it.”

Goff rejected the figures Key had said Labour would spend, calling them “phoney accounting”. He criticised aspects of Key’s approach saying debating gimmicks were “all he’s got to go on”.

2011’s $17 billion fiscal hole didn’t blow up into a gigantic moral panic about “fake news” in the same way that Joyce’s 2017 allegation of a $10 billion hole did. It was just a claim in a debate, largely ignored in favour of Key’s “Show me the money”, line, which was regarded as a victory for him and a moment of personal humiliation for Goff. There certainly wasn’t any debate about fake news and the ultimate nature of truth, like we saw in 2017.

There was another extremely dubious political attack during the 2017 campaign: Labour accused the National government of cutting the health budget during its term in office. This was, National protested, completely false: they’d increased health funding every year of their term. Ah, Labour replied, but if we were the government we would have increased it even more. So by being in government instead of us you have, ipso facto, cut health funding.

The spat over health statistics died on the operating table; nobody remembers it except for the National MPs and operatives who still grumble about it. Why didn’t it explode into a massive media debate about the nature of truth and the fate of democracy? Or, just last week, the government announced that it was putting the House into urgency because it needed to rush through legislative changes “banning foreign donations”. The press gallery examined the legislation and revealed that it was not actually doing this at all: the entire exercise was a stunt. But nobody seemed to think that it heralded the end of democratic government, and it is already forgotten about.

The journalist Auberon Waugh often wrote dismissively of “the chattering class”: the upper middle-class cliques of journalists, academics, artists, intellectuals and activists (Thomas Piketty refers to it as “The Brahmin Left”, reflecting its 21st century transformation into a priestly caste primarily concerned with moral transgressions). They form the leadership and core constituency of leftwing political parties, and they still attempt to play a gatekeeper role around political debate. But instead of policing the window of debate – pretending to impartial objectivity while excluding what it feels should or cannot be said – it amplifies messages it believes lie outside the bounds of acceptability. The ruthless logic of the Attention Economy rules progressive online and media spaces; everyone competes for attention by demonstrating their moral and intellectual superiority, so any and every public statement that breaches progressive taboos or activates this class’s (very acute) sense of threat can easily earn massive media coverage.

The incentive structure here is terrible. The worst ideas and most deceitful statements are often the most amplified and therefore the most successful. The sustained moral panic about “fake news” (but only on the right), incentivises the manufacture of fake news. We can see this mechanism at work in almost everything the National Party has done this year: their policy work on criminal justice was a rather dry discussion document on how the party’s “social investment” model can apply to this sector, but it was launched with the announcement that “Strike Force Raptor”, would crack down on gangs, which are currently expanding due to Australia’s criminal deportation policy. This prompted the expected response from progressive commentators: that gangs aren’t a criminal problem, but rather a deeply fascinating and complicated epiphenomenon of colonialism and capitalism, a suite of arguments that sound deranged to most of the population who aren’t fortunate enough to reside in the leafy university-proximate suburbs that enjoy the lowest crime rates in the country.

This week’s National Party transport policy announcement is also pretty dry stuff: integrated ticketing; fuel efficiency; urban transport authorities. But the headline announcement was a plan to fine cyclists – cycling being a sacred activity among progressive elites – and this provoked the absolutely predictable response and led the web pages of all the media outlets. National has also taken to producing highly dubious graphs with deliberate errors like disproportionate bar widths, that it releases on Twitter – the heartland of progressive moral panic and intellectual contempt – that its opponents then compete against each other to amplify. Naturally these graphs don’t feature in its policy documents or press releases.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned this decade, I think, it’s that social media activism is not activism. Liking and sharing stuff; telling people with different value systems that they’re morons and you hate them is not politics. The endless torrents of call outs and sneering are not emotional labour. All you’re doing is producing free content for global tech companies. There’s an exception to that, though: if what you’re doing is amplifying your opponent’s worst messages, elevating them to the mainstream media where persuadable voters can see them, then congratulations. You’re an activist. For them.

So what do you do when you see your political adversaries telling lies? Just say nothing and let the erosion of truth win? If you really care about truth, ask yourself: what do you when you see the party you vote for telling monstrous lies? You probably do nothing. And that’s OK. There’s a very large “third person effect” around fake news: most people are worried that it will persuade other people but confident that they personally are immune to it. In reality the people most susceptible to political propaganda are educated and engaged political activists, while the majority of voters are extremely sceptical of claims made by politicians across the spectrum. The voters are fine working things out for themselves.

But if you’re really outraged or provoked by something, set up a direct debit to the party you support. In the case of Labour or the Greens, they want regular cash payments a lot more than they want scathing online takedowns of National’s inability to label a graph axis. Whatever you do, don’t boost deliberately provocative messages or arguments that are only being made out of a calculation that you’ll amplify them.

Politics