One of Christopher Luxon’s favourite books is called Team of Rivals. It’s by the American historian Doris Kearns Goodwin, and it tells the story of Abraham Lincoln’s struggle to win the Republican Party nomination in 1860 and, having done so, his decision to appoint his adversaries in that contest to his cabinet. Lincoln deftly handled the ideological clashes and difficult personalities involved, turning the conflicts into strengths rather than liabilities.
Imagine our Prime Minister in Auckland’s pale pre-dawn, padding through his opulent home, silent in his cashmere socks, pulling this book off the shelf and flipping through it. He’s searching for guidance on managing his own rivalrous tripartite coalition, or seeking to learn the secrets of Lincoln’s legendary cunning and eloquence. Or for an adversary in that great man’s life as vexing as David Seymour, as slippery as Chris Hipkins, for critics as tirelessly malevolent as the parliamentary press gallery, and for the means to defeat them – for how could even the greatest of leaders reconcile with such evil?
National is gloomily aware that Christopher Luxon is not the greatest of leaders. But leadership is not everything. Voters are not delighted with the Prime Minister, but they also have a strong track record of punishing political parties that degenerate into the chaos and civil war that can result from internal leadership contests.
National is a conservative party, temperamentally as well as politically, and in 2020 and 2021, when it engaged in a liberal orgy of coups, countercoups, sackings, leaks and resignations, has left deep scars on its psyche. Its MPs are not ready to talk about leadership change – but they are talking about talking about it. What would the trigger points be? How many gaffes and painful interviews are too many? How low could the polls go? Will they pick up once the economy improves? How long before a coup becomes inevitable?
LeveL 5 leader
One of the ironies of the situation is that Luxon’s great political strength was supposed to be his leadership. Another of his favourite books is Jim Collins’ Good to Great, a business text about building great companies, which he has pressed on senior managers across the public service. A truly great company – or country, same thing, apparently – must be led by a “Level 5 leader” – modest, determined, tough, strategic, focused on long-term success.
Readers can decide for themselves whether Luxon embodies these qualities but the true Level 5 leader also practises a “Window and Mirror” mentality. In times of triumph, they look out the window to celebrate their team; in times of failure they must look in the mirror and contemplate themselves.
This is almost the opposite of Luxon’s response to deteriorating polls, which is to seethe at the unfairness of his media coverage.
One of the most celebrated adages in modern politics is from British MP Enoch Powell: “A politician complaining about the press is like a sailor complaining about the sea.” It’s possible Luxon has never heard it, because he doesn’t seem to understand either politics or media especially well.
Eloquence and cunning are not qualities you can embody or techniques you read about; they’re skills you acquire with practice over time, and even the most superlatively modest yet great Level 5 leader would struggle to govern well without them. What frustrates Luxon’s caucus is that he does not perceive his own underperformance. He looks in the mirror and sees determination and excellence smiling back.
Who could replace him? MPs love gossiping about potential leaders. They do it even when things are going well (and they too are inclined to look in the mirror for an answer).
In the running
The One News Verian Poll regularly asks respondents: “Thinking about all current MPs of any party, which one would you personally prefer to be Prime Minister?”
People can name whoever they like – Helen Clark features regularly, despite leaving Parliament 16 years ago – but the sitting MPs nominated as alternatives to an incumbent are usually the strongest credible replacements. The most recent poll named Finance Minister Nicola Willis, Defence Minister and former leader Judith Collins, Transport Minister Chris Bishop and Education Minister Erica Stanford.
Collins is experienced and capable but was not a successful opposition leader. Stanford is the most charismatic candidate, but although she has deep expertise in her own portfolios, she lacks breadth across the range of issues a prime minister needs to cover. That leaves Bishop and Willis, a power duo in the Ardern/Robertson mode (they are sometimes referred to as Bishola).
When the government was first formed, Willis would have been the obvious choice. Perhaps she still is. Her admirers argue her talents are more suited to the leadership role than the technocratic grind of the finance portfolio. And National struggles with women voters: if her caucus saw evidence she could turn that around, she would be hard to argue against.
But Bishop has been the more impressive minister. He cuts a somewhat dishevelled figure – as if someone tricked a labrador into putting on a suit – but he’s a shrewd strategist and formidable debater with a knack for seeing the systemic issues behind a problem.
Leadership is a necessary but not sufficient condition for political success. It needs to be wed to a persuasive vision of what the government is doing, and why, and this is conspicuously missing from Luxon’s malfunctioning robot-like repetition of talking points.
If National’s simmering dissatisfaction reaches boiling point, Willis or Bishop are the most likely contenders from the current team of rivals.
