Reverse Spin: People who want to be kind make terrible MPs

Craig Cooper reflects on the politicians he has met and some he hasn't. Photo / NZME

OPINION:

The great irony in Jacinda Ardern becoming Prime Minister is that she wasn’t a good politician.

When she was asked how she wanted to be remembered, she said something like: “Someone who tried to be kind.”

People who want to be kind make terrible MPs.

Lovely human beings. Great leaders possibly, but on the whole, terrible MPs, who tend to be egotistical, self-centred and driven.

It’s a bonus for voters if they are intelligent, and an extraordinary bonus if they have the emotional intelligence to be perceptive enough to understand when they are being a d**k.

And it’s the ones with the ability to not take politics and public scrutiny too personally, who excel.

Those exceptions are usually found in the top 5 per cent of each party, and end up collectively running the country.

In close to two decades as a newspaper editor, I met very few politicians I liked.

Stuart Nash wears his heart on his sleeve, which is refreshing.

I suspect he would be extraordinary fun on a night out if he let his hair down, assuming he still can after damaging it with dye for several years.

Craig Cooper will remember Jacinda Ardern as an extraordinary leader in a time of crisis, who seemed to be a decent human being, and smart enough to know when to quit. Photo / Warren Buckland

Phil Heatley was a National party MP with a very funny sense of humour that he repressed for the entirety of his elected term, lest he be judged poorly. He is a nice guy. So is Shane Reti, who is also smart. Head scratchingly, he’s a National MP.

Helen Clark, though, is easily the most extraordinary politician I met. Clark had an ability to engage with all sorts of people, on all sorts of levels.

Watching her in action was to be in the presence of someone special.

Clark would visit newspaper offices, pop her head in the door and wave out to people with a “Hi I’m Helen”, before sitting down to listen to what people on the ground regarded as big issues in their hometown.

John Key, on the other hand, turned newspaper visits into presidential affairs, coning off parking spaces with people in suits and sunglasses milling around.

Key’s limo was parked at the door; Clark parked her ego and made people feel she was there to listen to them - not the other way round.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Ardern while she was PM, although I came within metres of her one day, in Napier’s CBD.

She had been in town on a Friday, I forget why, and on a Saturday morning, went for a walkabout.

My wife spotted her and stopped, as I wandered off down the street, oblivious. I turned around to see what the fuss was about, and saw a few security guys in suits, who make an art out of conspicuously trying to not appear conspicuous.

They dwarfed Ardern. My enduring memory of seeing her that day was how tiny she was.

A decade ago, I would have lingered, and found an opportunity to introduce myself as the local newspaper editor.

That day, I didn’t. Not enough petrol in the tank, as Ardern might say.

I will remember Ardern though, as an extraordinary leader for New Zealand in a time of crisis, who seemed to be a decent human being, a great communicator and smart enough to know when to quit.