Big gun on the election year circuit

Michael Cullen and Shane Jones snack on fish and chips on the Mangonui wharf. Picture / Dean Purcell

Michael Cullen crouches obligingly on the Mangonui wharf, sharing fish and chips with his star Labour Party hopeful, Shane Jones. It's a set-up photo opportunity - and for Cullen, who has a healthy appetite, an excellent opportunity for a snack. It doesn't spoil his lunch 10 minutes later at the famous Mangonui Fish Shop.

Again Cullen is surrounded by journalists and minders as he answers questions between mouthfuls while his fingers absent-mindedly search out crunchy morsels of batter.

Despite the accent on food, this is no joy ride. Labour strategists believe Shane Jones has a chance of unseating National's John Carter in Northland (majority 7558), and certainly of increasing their party vote. Now they're wheeling their second-to-top gun along to help.

And Jones, 45, with his cruisy, yet cut-the-crap approach, excellent education, whakapapa and a CV that includes chairmanship of the Waitangi Fisheries Commission, is the man who just might do it.

It has been an interesting morning for 60-year-old Cullen. He and his wife, Anne Collins, arrived in Kerikeri at 9 after an early morning flight from Tauranga. First stop was orange juice and politics at Keri Fresh, one of the biggest employers in Northland. This is followed by a houseboat ride and raw oyster morning tea at Sanfords' aquaculture business in limpid Whangaroa Harbour.

As Jones, in his supple, suede Armani jacket quips, "Sure I had plenty [of oysters]. How do you think I got seven kids?"

Now it is a quick stop at the home of Wayne Brown, the controversial chairman of the Auckland District Hospital Board. Brown's house is built over the water and today it holds a collection of local business people: an exporter of houses to Dubai; property developers; vineyard, olive plantation and cheese factory owners. Most are white, certainly not reflecting the 25 per cent of Maori in Northland.

Cullen moves into a speech that will bore into the brain over the next two days. First, how great it is to be in the Far North supporting Jones in a time of record employment, growth and opportunity. As Jones reiterates, unemployment is running at 3.5 per cent, and every one who wants a job in Northland is working - "if they're not sad, bad or mad".

"Most problems, putting aside exchange-rate related problems, are problems of success," continues Cullen.

Labour's solutions to the grizzles from this group (problems with the RMA, the cost of complying with the ever-increasing rules and regulations emanating from a rapidly growing bureaucracy, Treaty of Waitangi claims) include companies working directly with the Labour Department to get imported workers fast-tracked through the system.

Cullen also talks about the money Labour has poured into the region's infrastructure: $59.53 million over 2004/05 and $72.6 million over the next 10 years on transport alone.

It is not a long speech, and does not suggest painstaking research. For example, over the next 36 hours Dr Cullen ponders often at the deepness of the gulf between rich and poor here in the Far North, where the economy has been based on "classic short-term extraction industry". Why is it so far behind his own home territory, Hawkes Bay?

The two men are different. Cullen, the pink-faced, polished politician is careful, nestling his remarks in subtleties, sometimes over-ridden by a tendency to make a joke or answer before the question is finished, as though he's on Game of Two Halves. Jones gets straight to the point, relying on humour and a "Hey cuzzie" style to carry him through. He is staunch - not afraid of going against the crowd, getting it wrong, being unpopular.

The fact that he is standing for Labour on the general roll, rather than a Maori seat, makes sense. This guy does not stand for separatism but for inclusion - a blended society "a bit like the blend in my own family". He wants the North to move away from its old "cannabis country" stereotype and look forward to the future. Above all, he wants Maori to be part of the growth spurt the country is going through.

"We've allowed too much negativity. People look at the North and see yet another Titewhai protest at Waitangi," says Jones, who is a distant relative of the infamous Harawira's husband - and from there of her son, Hone.

"Now we've got to accentuate the positive ... One of the most frustrating notions to me is of young people buying into the notion of segregation from the nation state ... they think it's a type of radicalised Arcadia, and it's something I'm particularly resistant against. There are two choices. One, Maori bogged down with their identity; two, Maori being economic contributors to a thriving economy."

 

AS the sun reddens behind the volcanic peaks of Puheke and Hohara, 165 of Jones' family and supporters gather to meet the Deputy Prime Minister. There are no protesters. Guests are all on best behaviour, beautifully dressed, well-spoken. You can see Jones' lineage with a glance at his family: the faces are Welsh, Dalmatian and of course, Maori.

They stand at the multimillion Carrington Estate winery and golf resort, perched on the thin finger of land that is the Karikari Peninsula, doing their stuff for their local star. White-aproned waiters serve sauvignon blanc, pinotage, breaded prawns and tiny pies, the talk is of how Northland has thrived over the past five years, the size of the gathering .

Cullen gives his familiar speech and Jones replies - "Welcome to the new marae of the Jones family ... ". There are two blessings by two priests and a word from Sir Graham Latimer to Cullen: "Thank you. You were the one who steadied the ship." Then the magic begins.

A group of Jones' aunties begin the waiata. Cullen stands aside, while Anne Collins, looking soft and pretty in the dim light, sways and taps her foot.

Collins, who was MP for East Cape from 1984-90 and married Cullen in 1989, is now a school teacher. It is a second marriage for both. They live in Napier with two dogs (one of which, Anne says, sends her texts).

She is obviously at home in this environment, and as with many wives of public figures, is highly animated. She throws back her head and laughs, interjects, makes her own, much milder, jokes. When the weather gets colder she wears a red Labour Party vest - and draws attention to it.

Later, while Jones' high-spirited aunties and uncles run through their place in the family (his Dad, Peter, is 13 of 17 kids, the delightful Annie May is number 11 ) the Cullens slip over the road to their dinner, wine and a complimentary suite at the resort. In the morning Anne will power up and down the pool - shame they haven't time for a round of golf.

BOTH Cullen and Jones want an end to Treaty of Waitangi claims in the North. "I'm going to put time and effort into sorting them out," Jones says. "It's important for Maori. There's so much land tied up in this part of the world - and not enough use of it."

Cullen agrees. "There are a lot of resources locked up or under-utilised - $500 million tied up in the Crown Forest Rentals Trust. If we can do this, free up that vast sum, it could be used to support Maori economic development."

Then there is education, which Cullen approaches delicately, just suggesting that maybe the emphasis on Maoritanga has been too strong and what we need now is training in trades and apprenticeships.

"We've allowed a proliferation of courses well beyond our ability to absorb," he says. "Also we haven't paid enough attention to screening, who gets in these courses and the courses themselves."

So what is the solution? "We eat away at the edges. We push through issues in things like aquaculture and local training providers to support the local communities."

After nearly six years as Minister of Finance, Cullen's master plan for New Zealand, stretching way into the future, is well under way. His Superannuation Fund has been accepted by his political opponents, so "stabilising the framework" round New Zealand.

"That's one of the bricks," he says, as we snake through the Mangamuka Ranges in the gold ministerial car. "The second major brick is to try to build the workplace savings scheme. We can't massively subsidise home ownership as we used to, but we're doing something."

The only other signals from the upcoming Budget he will talk about are removing the disincentive to invest in New Zealand equities and additional state houses, especially "up here, where there's an issue of quality".

When Cullen turns that calculator brain on Auckland his message is refreshingly sensible: "Put corridors in place now for future roads, transmission to the airport." Those houses in Epsom will only get more expensive.

SO how is Jones going to win against National's John Carter? He smiles that lopsided smile, sucks the belt in a notch. He is a formidable candidate. His education, starting at St Stephens College in Bombay, and ending with a masters from Harvard in the US, is world-class. His business career translated into a pile of cash. He speaks fluent Maori.

But what he's going to use here is old-style hard work, organisation - and mates. "I'm Maori and Dali, connected to Te Aupori and Ngai Takoto tribes, come from a farm, I'm well-connected in business ... "

He doesn't even mention his cousin Stacey Jones, the great league halfback.

Despite the pedigree, Jones is careful not to promote himself as too pure. "By the time I was 17 I'd got into wine, women and song. I'm sure the media will study the entrails of my life."

What he doesn't mention at the time is his ongoing battle with affluent Pakeha Northlanders over his business, which relocates state houses into upmarket developments.

The visits come fast. At Far North Avocados, owner Jim Clark talks about the crippling effect of the high exchange rate. "We're running out of fat. We're very nervous about this season. We could take a big hit."

"Our main concern with government is the enlarged bureaucracy. We've seen an exponential growth in compliance in the last five years, to a point where we've had to hire someone to deal with it.

"Five years ago we just packed fruit. Now we have seven manuals and all the supplementary paperwork that goes with them to comply with. We are rated by three food safety authorities rather than one."

You could eat off the floor in this shed, with its bilious, avocado-coloured paint job. The toilet block is plastered with reminders to wash, dry, clean. Ecowaste bins abound.

Clark wants the paperwork rolled into one ISO-accredited regulatory body, not to mention more land for cropping and labour. Cullen says that's something Jones may be able to help with - and not just by leasing nearby land that belongs to his family. "Shane's relatives live around here. Taking him to Wellington could improve the local gene pool."

Down the road at Juken Nishu on the outskirts of Kaitaia, things are sweet. Mill manager Dennis Clarke explains that staff stay on here, that the average wage is $40-$45,000. "Of all the mills in New Zealand I'm the only Kiwi mill manager," he says, leading Cullen and his entourage on a tour. Cullen is the only person who doesn't fasten his safety vest.

Last is a meeting with the Northland Regional Council, another glass of pinot gris, platters of hors d'oeuvres, more talk about infrastructure and Northland's renaissance, another speech and they're off. Before we journalists know it, the Deputy Prime Minister and his wife slip out of the North and into the car without even a goodbye.