Danyl McLauchlan is a politics writer, feature writer and book reviewer for the NZ Listener
Election debates don’t change campaigns unless they do. During the 2016 US presidential election Hillary Clinton decisively won three debates against Donald Trump: even some Republican commentators admitted that the events showcased Trump’s total lack of experience and policy depth, and this contrasted disastrously with Clinton’s impressive command of complex issues across the entire field of government. In the strangest of the debates Trump prowled around the stage, glowering at Clinton and looming over her. But this had no perceptible impact on the polls and Trump won the election.
On the other hand, in New Zealand’s 2002 election the TVNZ leaders debate screened in front of an audience of undecided voters. They signalled their approval or displeasure of each leader using an electronic interface and this appeared on screen in real time as a worm, rising or falling in response to what was said. Peter Dunne, leader of a centrist minor party called United Future sent the audience into flights of rapture whenever he mentioned “common sense” or “family values”. United Future polled at around 0.1% at the start of the year but after the debate it soared, and Dunne’s party won 6.69% on election night and formed a coalition government with Labour.
Debates are unpredictable. That’s part of the reason the major parties now routinely exclude the minor party leaders from debates – to minimise risk. Tonight we just have Chris Hipkins and Christopher Luxon. They know if they make a gaffe or a mistake it’ll be amplified on social media, replayed endlessly for the rest of the campaign. They’ll each have a list of quips and insults pre-prepared by their teams to toss at each other in desperate attempts to achieve virality, and a host of talking points that tested well with their focus groups.
And they’ll each have a strategy: a weakness in their opponent they’ll attempt to exploit. Luxon is new to Parliament and often poor on policy detail. In previous debates both Helen Clark and John Key used their very quick wits to embarrass Don Brash and Phil Goff, respectively, by demonstrating the minutiae of their rival’s policies better than they did. This is the most obvious tactic for Chris Hipkins tonight – he’s behind in the polls so the stakes are higher, and he can take more risks. He’ll critique National’s dubious tax policy – of course – but the true attack will probably be elsewhere.
Luxon has attempted to lower expectations by praising Hipkins as “probably the best debater in our Parliament, and probably in New Zealand”. It’s true that Hipkins is “strong in the House” but he’s strong in a pedestrian way. He’s good at sledging his opponents and he rarely says anything foolish but as a debater, he’s on a lower plane than his Finance Minister Grant Robertson or Robertson’s National counterpart Nicola Willis. If he has a weakness, it is his fondness for the ugly, boorish style of parliamentary squabbling (which the public tends to find repellent) and a tendency to make things up when he’s in this mode. John Key was a grossly unpleasant figure in Parliament but he was careful to present himself as a likeable goofy dad when the public eye was on him.
The leaders will mostly debate policy – which is appropriate. But policy isn’t everything. Jacinda Ardern was poor at implementing the transformational policies she campaigned on but very good at making sound decisions during moments of national crisis – which turned out to be more important than policy delivery during her period of leadership. So the Listener staff has compiled a list of questions they’d like the leaders to answer: What’s your favourite dental memory? EV or petrol? Barbie or Oppenheimer? What was your longest wait to see a doctor? Who’s your preferred Prime Minister (other than yourself?) If you could fix either cost of living or crime, which would you choose? What’s the biggest issue facing humanity today?
They’re questions that reveal judgement and character (or, in some instances perhaps just an obsession with pop culture). And they’re questions the campaign teams are unlikely to anticipate and coach their candidates on, compelling them to tell us what – if anything – they really believe in. Imagine the impact it’d have on the campaign if we knew who we were really voting for.
