Let the magic of art win us over

Michael Parekowhai's Lighthouse design. Photo / Richard Robinson

When it was suggested to British PM Winston Churchill that spending on the arts be cut to help fund the war effort, he reportedly said: "Then what are we fighting for?" In fact, he didn't. You only need to see one of his paintings to know how far-fetched that is. And can you really imagine the old warmonger parting with a shilling that he could have put towards killing more people? But that doesn't make the point any less salient.

Any time money is used for something that is not, on the face of it, "worthy", according to the definition of worth prevailing at the time, then it's easy to argue against it by saying: "Why isn't that money going to fix child poverty/public transport/homelessness?"

The answer is simply that money needs to be spread around to make life worth living. We need our surroundings to be places those children can enjoy, where there are things worth taking a bus to see and in which you would want to have a home.

But when money is to be spent on art not of the conservatively bilious variety, public opinion is easily persuaded that maybe we should use that money to do some good. As if it's not good to have beautiful surroundings.

Public submissions are now open regarding Michael Parekowhai's Lighthouse to be sited on Queens Wharf - the existing wharf, not an extension that will take up more harbour to accommodate it. Most of the cost is covered by private donations.

Aucklanders are already on the defensive because a company they partly own is treating their harbour like a giant carpark extension, so they risk over-reacting to this proposal.

Apparently people have called it "monstrous" - though reports do not name those "people". "They" labelled the Eiffel Tower, the Sky Tower and just about any great public artwork "monstrous" in the beginning, too. But art has a way of winning people over once it's there. It has its own magic but it literally has to be seen to be believed. You can't tell from a diagram.

It's to be hoped that, in this case, the ever-eager, arts-averse commentators will not rouse enough ill-informed protest from "people" to deprive us of at least one great asset on our benighted waterfront.

The departure of John Campbell and Campbell Live marks the end of serious journalism on television. Even though a few valiant, talented and under-funded souls will attempt to keep the tradition alive, they do so now under a terrible shadow.

Every journalist in this country, in a media world of diminishing resources and opportunities, owes Campbell and his team a debt - mainly for doing so much of our job.

He provoked, questioned and crusaded and never gave up. Yes, to the point of irritation, but sometimes people need to be irritated.

I disagree 100 per cent with the efforts to retrieve the bodies from the Pike River mine but I agree 150 per cent with the sort of broadcast current affairs that will pursue that aim, in the belief that issues aren't over until they are over, and that sticks with a story until the end.

I was surprised when someone told me the other day that a large number of people think Campbell's effusive, ebullient demeanour is an act. I've only met him a handful of times but I know what you saw on TV was no act but is the man himself.

This is all the more remarkable because there are so many broadcasters on radio and TV whose personae are just an act, who say what they say not because they believe it but because they know it will get attention and a reaction. But Campbell never did anything he didn't believe in - and that would appear to have made his downfall inevitable.