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Raf Manji, Opportunities Party leader. Photo: Toby Manhire
Raf Manji, Opportunities Party leader. Photo: Toby Manhire

PoliticsOctober 31, 2022

Raf Manji on Top 3.0, the balance of power, and ruling out a role in government

Raf Manji, Opportunities Party leader. Photo: Toby Manhire
Raf Manji, Opportunities Party leader. Photo: Toby Manhire

The former Christchurch councillor tells Toby Manhire why he thinks the time is right to take on the party founded by Gareth Morgan, why a land value tax is not doomed, and what happens to the party if they miss out again. Plus, inevitably: cats.

Just less than six years ago, on November 4, 2016, outspoken economist and feline nemesis Gareth Morgan headed to the grounds of parliament, invoked Donald Trump, and announced the formation of The Opportunities Party. “It’s nearly Guy Fawkes Day, I guess, so I’m here to sort of light a fuse under this place,” he said. And fireworks there were: an incendiary tax policy launch outside John Key’s house, Twitter tirades, “lipstick on a pig” salvos, attacks on voters as “mostly idiots”, and – well, altogether a screaming, flaming Catherine Wheel of a campaign.

Campaigning on an overhaul of the tax system, a universal basic income and tackling the increasingly inaccessible property market, Top finished in 2017 just shy of 2.5%, with less than half the support required to break into parliament. “It’s been quite sad and surreal to watch Top’s demise,” wrote its deputy leader, Geoff Simmons, when it was all over. Simmons went on to assume the leadership as Morgan disappeared, with a puff of drama, into the ether. 

The Opportunities Party founder Gareth Morgan, left, and his successor as leader, Geoff Simmons. (Photos: Getty Images)

In the Covid election of 2020, Top struggled for traction, winning just 1.5% of the party vote. Simmons stood down and, after an interim spell by Shai Navot, the party turned to its third leader: Raf Manji. 

Manji, who moved to New Zealand in 2002 after working as an investment banker in London, came to prominence across two terms as a councillor in post-quake Christchurch. In 2017, when he launched a campaign to stand for Ilam as an independent, he was approached by Top to join the party, but “I said, look, what I’m doing in Ilam is quite specific … It was all about the earthquake. It was all about the funding gap that needed to be filled,” said Manji, speaking on an episode of the Spinoff’s politics podcast, Gone By Lunchtime.

When the party came calling again in 2021, the timing felt right. “I just felt that … we were in, let’s say, the long-term economic cycles, political cycles, social cycles that [meant] the next election was going to be a little bit different. And that if a party like the Opportunities Party was ever going to have an impact or make it into parliament, this was the time that it would happen. I thought, OK, let’s do it. Let’s have a go.”


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Part of that assessment, he said, was the configuration of the parties, with the National-Act bloc and the Labour-Green alternative in similar polling territory. “MMP is sort of congealed. And we’re offering something new. And I think that helps us.”

What he’s not seeking, however, is any ministerial role – if it makes parliament, the party will not be doing any deal to go inside the tent, he said. “I can rule that out right now … We’re not going to go into government with either, you know, potential bloc. We will sit on the cross benches.” As a party with seats for the first time, they would need to “get our feet under the desk. And we really want to focus on the particular policy areas that we’re interested in. Ministerial positions are just a distraction.”

The goal instead would be to effect change through policy concessions in exchange for the provision of confidence and supply, while otherwise voting bill by bill. “I think that would be quite a powerful position,” he said.  

Raf Manji in 2017, when he stood for the Ilam seat (Photo: Supplied)

The big policy ambition was laid out last month, in the form of a “tax switch” which would see the first $15,000 in earnings tax free, with that revenue hole filled by a land value tax, leaving it fiscally neutral. That tax – an LVT – would apply a 0.75% tax on the value of residential land, irrespective of the value of any buildings. 

Given the conniptions prompted by the prospect of a comprehensive capital gains tax – a response that led Jacinda Ardern to exile the idea for the duration of her political lifetime – surely an annual tax on land value would be as, if not more, powerful political kryptonite? “I don’t think so,” said Manji. There was growing acceptance of the need for a ”intergenerational conversation” on access to housing, he said. The LVT was ultimately about tacking the “big social issue” of “entrenched poverty in certain parts of our society”.

Top’s likeliest path to parliament – likelier than hitting the 5% party vote threshold –  is through winning a seat, Manji said. That seat is Ilam, where he finished second to Gerry Brownlee and ahead of the Labour candidate in 2017. “We’ve thought a lot about Ilam over the last six months, we’ve looked at the numbers. We think we can win it,” he said. That calculation was in large part based on the fact that Brownlee, who lost the seat to Labour’s Sarah Pallett in 2020, is now list-only. 

What if it doesn’t work out – is 2023 the last-chance saloon for Top? “I would probably say yes,” said Manji. “Although,” he added, pointing to the review of electoral law currently under way, “if the threshold gets lowered …”

And finally to the elephant in the room: cats. Did he share the founding Top leader’s famous enthusiasm for wrenching moggies off the streets? “I love cats,” he said. “I’d say I’m more of a cat guy than a dog guy.” The only impediment: “I do, unfortunately, suffer from an allergic reaction.”


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A news push notification about the prime minister DJing
A news push notification about the prime minister DJing

OPINIONPoliticsOctober 28, 2022

Please stop asking the prime minister to DJ

A news push notification about the prime minister DJing
A news push notification about the prime minister DJing

It’s an old, hack promotional tactic and we keep falling for it.

Let’s start with the obvious. Jacinda Ardern is the prime minister of an actual country on planet earth. Even if you’re a hater, or indeed a super fan, that should give you a clue as to her schedule. She has a child which I imagine she likes to try and spend time with. Even if you can not muster an iota of respect for her, or are wondering about the trip to Antarctica, her diary seems objectively full. I will do a DJ set myself if it turns out the person making this request, Fatman Scoop, has a busier diary than the PM’s. It will be terrible but my time is worth less than the prime minister’s.

While everyone loves a relatable politician, this particular prime minister’s every move and photo is scrutinised and picked apart. This is increasingly happening to all politicians – sometimes it’s funny, sometimes those photos are distorted and used in the type of online commentary people should arguably be sent to Twitter jail, or indeed actual jail, for. Sometimes her imagery ends up in weird deepfake videos where she and fiance Clarke Gayford are reenacting the Princess Bride. Sometimes her image is used in beautiful fan art. She ain’t giving you a DJ photo op. She wouldn’t even DJ at the vaxathon, leaving Clarke to sheepishly hit the decks. 

Equipment that is very unrelated to being prime minister (Photo: Getty Images)

Secondly, people should be able to age out of shit they did when they were young. Jacinda DJed one set in 2014. Have a think about all the things you did one time in 2014 and then think what you’d do if everyone kept publicly insisting you do it again.

I am no longer able to do a round-off after a bottle of wine. I would not comply with your request to do that anymore, no matter how much chanting you did or how many patronising pleas for “Annie, do gymnastics” or how many times you told me I would know what to do. I smashed my elbow up so bad the last time I did a drunk round-off I had to lie to the physio about the cause of my injury being kayaking. I also will not: drink a beer from a cup stuffed down my cleavage, do fake Riverdancing, recite poetry or sing Evita from start to finish for you. Sometimes the things we liked doing when we were younger are not the things we like doing when we get older. Sometimes a hobby is just a temporary stop on the way to realising you prefer to listen to other people play music.

Finally, this kind of thing is a set-up. It’s a stunt. A novelty trick to get attention and publicity. That’s all that’s happening here and it’s boring. The prime minister refuses, she looks like a killjoy. It just sets off a ridiculous chain of events including media outlets thinking it’s all good to refer to the prime minister as Cindy in a push notification, red banner and now-deleted headline because we’re all just having a laugh. Things are heated and murky enough right now. We don’t need to dredge up this dated one-hit-wonder of a trope and we certainly shouldn’t be giving it airtime beyond it prompting another killjoy lady to write an entire, albeit short, piece about how you should stop asking the prime minister to DJ. Fade it out. 

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