When art is indulged with public money terrible things can happen. Witness the facade of the new Supreme Court building in Wellington opened by Prince William yesterday. Readers who rarely visit the capital might not have seen the embarrassment until we published a photograph yesterday of the building with the red steel latticework that wraps its upper storey like an old-fashioned Christmas cake.
Visitors to Wellington would have noticed it but probably assumed it was another of those pieces of desperate kitsch, like artificial nikau palms, that characterise the city's civic designs. Alas this one cannot be blamed on its council, this one was a national project. Tax money - probably quite a lot of it - paid for this cheap-looking and decidedly nasty decoration of the $80 million construction. The metalwork was made from recycled scrap and still looks like it.
Nobody responsible to taxpayers was stepping up to answer for it yesterday. The previous Government must have approved the design but it has gone. Prime Minister John Key diplomatically described it as an "important addition to the landscape" and added that it was not his place to comment on its architectural merits. Attorney-General Chris Finlayson said he was not concerned about the court's building, only its judgments. Justice Minister Simon Power declared it "unique" - it is that - and "worthy of the top court in the land", which could only mean the judges should not ask him to spend any more.
Whatever the royal visitor thought of it he will probably keep to himself. He was opening a building for the court that replaces the Privy Council as New Zealand's highest judicial authority. The building is a physical expression of a significant step in our independent constitutional development. The Prince's presence attracted a republican demonstration outside.
Perhaps the demonstrators liked the lattice. It represents the view through branches of pohutukawa and rata trees, according to the design director for architects Warren and Mahoney. An indigenous reference may be enough to satisfy the republican cause.
In that sense the incongruous facade may be all too appropriate. The urge to distinguish ourselves within a highly valued heritage can produce awkward superficial results. Lawyers who argued for the retention of the Privy Council said we were setting up an inferior court for the appearance of indigenousness. We were not cutting our connections to British common law, just bolting on a bench of local design.
Republicanism proposes a change that probably would be even less substantial. The monarch long ago ceased to be the effective head of state of any country besides Britain. She and her heirs come here as very occasional visitors and nowadays they are welcomed as such, not as the "family" of old. The Queen's indigenous representative, the Governor-General, is the effective head of state.
His role would hardly change were he to become a president appointed by Parliament under a republican constitution. The country might no longer want a distant hereditary head of state but it would be wise to retain most other elements of British parliamentary government.
Contemplating the edifice he opened yesterday, Prince William must have wished for a more worthy debut. The design speaks of nothing but superficial confusion. Within the ridiculous wrapper there seems to be a construction of reasonable substance and appearance. Beside it stands Wellington's old High Court, a contrast in style, taste and dignity. It could have been extended to accommodate the Supreme Court, and could yet be. For it will still be there when the vulgar bolt-on beside it is sent back to the scrap yard.
<i>Editorial:</i> Vulgar bolt-on still looks like recycled scrap
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