And now ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our newest master of mesmerism, our exciting new boss of bewitchment … yes, it’s Christopher “the Great Hypno” Luxon.
If the parliamentary circus’s first week in town for 2024 is to be remembered for anything — apart from Greens co-leader James Shaw’s not-so-shocking announcement that he’s “goneburger” — it should be for the Great Hypno trying but failing to fool the nation with his not-so-magical sleights of hand.
He opened his act with his attempt to convince us — look into his eyes! — that his new associate minister for health, the smokers’ new best friend Casey Costello, hadn’t been telling porkies when, for reasons known only to her, she denied doing something that plainly she had.
In an interview with RNZ, the NZ First MP claimed she had not sought specific official advice on freezing the annual tax hike on fags, an idea some cessation experts have condemned, and one Luxon subsequently said the coalition has no plans to do. The trouble for Costello was a document already leaked to the state broadcaster showed she had asked for just such advice.
In an epic piece of semantical hair-splitting during Tuesday’s first parliamentary Question Time of the year, Costello clarified that what she had actually done was not make a request for specific advice on freezing tobacco excise but had instead asked for a range of tobacco-related advice, including on a fag tax freeze.
“I was being truthful at the time, in relation to that statement,” she told the House.
A day later, RNZ reported it had further evidence that Costello had not only asked for “specific” official advice on a freeze on tobacco excise for three years, but the idea for a freeze had been Costello’s to begin with. Even more bizarrely, the leaked notes revealed she believes “nicotine is as harmful as caffeine.” Perhaps it is, but only in Bizarro World.
Any impression that this brand-new MP’s first instinct when talking to a journalist about a contentious issue is to be loose with the facts is wrong, however. According to the Great Hypno — look into his eyes! — the whole thing was simply “a mistake” by Costello.
For his next trick, the master of mesmerism attempted a much more complicated dodge: getting us to believe that when his Police Minister, the robotic Mark Mitchell, declared in Parliament the government was pledging to hire 500 additional cops during the next three years (rather than the two promised in the coalition deal with NZ First), Robo-Mark was actually having some sort of software malfunction rather than admitting two years wasn’t achievable.
Even when challenged by Labour’s Grant Robertson, Robo-Mark was certain it was three years, not two.
“The Government’s policy,” Mitchell had told the House on Tuesday, “is to deliver 500 additional police officers over the term of this Government, which is three years …” He then explained why even that timeframe was going to be difficult to achieve.
Then — poof! — the Great Hypno appeared, telling media, “Mark could have expressed himself better”, making half of Robo-Mark’s credibility as minister disappear in a flash. Mitchell lost the rest of it on Wednesday, telling the House, presumably after staring into the Great Hypno’s eyes, that he’d got it all wrong.
But had he? It seems awfully unlikely Robo-Mark would not remember such a key policy promise in his own portfolio. And on Tuesday, he seemed awfully certain of the difficulties of hitting 500 additional police in three years, let alone two: there were already recruiting problems; the Aussies are pinching our coppers; “lots” of senior officers are coming up for retirement.
Is it possible that Robo-Mark’s software was actually running fine? Is it possible, too, that sacrificing a greenhorn minister’s credibility, and risking eating crow in a couple years, are better options for the Great Hypno than bad blood with his waspish deputy MP Winston Peters just 50 days or so into the coalition government?
A cynic might think the answer to both questions is yes. The Great Hypno — look into his eyes! — says you’re just imagining things.
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Will the well-known Māori MP David Seymour be taking a taiaha to Waitangi?
The Act leader — who revealed last year to a surprised nation he has Māori whakapapa — may well need one when he goes north to join Waitangi Day celebrations next week. As chief architect of Act’s Treaty Principles Bill, Seymour will certainly be, er, centre of attention. He even admitted this week he expected celebrations to be “more tense” than usual this year.
And if those tensions result in disruptive protests, or even violence, you can be certain Seymour will not be taking any responsibility for it.
In his state of the nation speech to Act supporters last weekend, Seymour once again laid out his views on the treaty, but also, and very carefully, framed himself as someone harmlessly promoting “debate” for the good of the nation.
Conversely, he claimed in his speech “leaders in Māoridom who have the ear of the young need to ask themselves: are they dealing with the issues responsibly, or simply inciting baseless racial resentment?”
This is devious, and an attempted sleight of hand worthy of the Great Hypno. It is like someone challenging you to a street fight and then saying you’re irresponsible if you throw a punch to defend yourself.
It’s not hard to work out what is in this treaty “debate” for Seymour: if his bill becomes law (which it won’t), he wins. If his bill is thrown out, he still wins because he can go to the polls in three years looking like a hard man on treaty issues, potentially collecting more votes from National’s right-wing than he did in 2023.
To avoid the worst of the bill’s fallout, the Great Hypno — look into his eyes! — did his best last week to bewilder the nation by pulling the old switcheroo: he appointed Seymour associate minister for justice “with responsibility for the Treaty Principles Bill”, taking over accountability for the thing from Justice Minister Paul Goldsmith.
It was a transparent ploy by Luxon to make the whole, sorry business Seymour’s problem, and it won’t work; the only reason the bill will make it to a first reading at all is because Luxon agreed it could be coalition business.
On treaty issues, he finds himself a man with a devil on both shoulders. Act’s coalition deal means he must support the already fiercely opposed Treaty Principles Bill to the first reading, while his agreement with NZ First means there’s more turmoil to come with a review of existing legislation referring to treaty principles on the way.
In the coalition’s relations with Māori, the Great Hypno has become like a man in chemotherapy hoping against hope the cancer will go into remission so he could pretend to everyone all is well, a trick even the greatest hypnotist would struggle to pull off.
