It's A Kind of Magic: Jacinda Ardern's memorable declaration, made at the launch of the Labour Party’s 2017 election campaign, that climate change would be her generation’s nuclear-free moment, epitomises her political style. So richly evocative of selfless activism and against-all-odds success was her declaration that Ardern’s audience’s critical faculties were suspended. Almost as if the promise and the deed were one and the same. Some people might call what she did “casting a spell”. Others, even more provocatively, might call it “magic”. (Photo by John Miller)
WHAT IS IT? This weird, emotionally energetic style of
politics that promises “transformational” change and then, mysteriously, fails
to deliver it? What should we call it? Something less than the old-fashioned
left-wing populism of Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn. Much more, however,
than the cynical deployment of standard PR techniques. It is a style which has
so far defied all attempts to pin a label on it.
Nameless though it may be, few would deny that Jacinda
Ardern is its most brilliant local exponent. Her openness: the sheer force of
her empathic projection; imbues our Prime Minister’s statements with
extraordinary persuasive power. So effective are “Jacinda’s” communication
skills, that a great many New Zealanders have taken to confusing her
declarations with actual achievements. Those who point out the discrepancy
between the Prime Minister’s magnificent words and her government’s
less-than-magnificent deeds are not well received. But, that does not mean they
are wrong.
Her memorable declaration, made at the launch of the Labour
Party’s 2017 election campaign, that climate change would be her generation’s
nuclear-free moment, epitomises Ardern’s political style. So richly evocative
of selfless activism and against-all-odds success was her declaration that
Ardern’s audience’s critical faculties were suspended. Almost as if the promise
and the deed were one and the same. Some people might call what she did
“casting a spell”. Others, even more provocatively, might call it “magic”.
But, magic of a certain kind. Ardern’s are not the sort of
spells that begin with fantasy but end in reality. Jacinda is no Churchill.
Rather than a magician, she is a conjurer. What Ardern weaves with her words
are not the intentions that lead to actual deeds, but the dangerous illusion
that what is being asked of her has already been accomplished – made real by
the unmistakable sincerity and the power of her will. Once she has declared her
determination to end child poverty, who could be so churlish as to point out
that the children of the poor are still with us?
Ardern’s conjuring is perfectly suited to that crucial group
of voters who detached themselves from the National Party in response to what
they saw as the “awful” problems which John Key and Bill English had failed to
address during their nine years in office. Homelessness and unaffordable
housing; worsening child poverty; inadequate spending on health and education;
filthy rivers and streams; the manifest inadequacies of New Zealand’s mental
health services: something had to be done.
Or, at least, something had to be said that made them
feel better than the bleak and blameful rhetoric of Paula Bennett and Judith
Collins.
Ardern’s game-changing intuition was that all these voters
really wanted to hear were different words. Commitments, promises, studies,
working-groups, projects: policies filled with good intentions and promoted
with powerful displays of empathy. The number of voters eager to focus on the
fiscal mechanisms required to pay for Labour’s kinder, gentler New Zealand were
considerably fewer.
That had always been the problem with Labour’s dreary
procession of earnest middle-aged blokes. They had all been way too keen on the
nuts and bolts; far too ready to tell everybody how much fiscal pain they would
have to be willing to suffer in order to make all the good things they wanted
for New Zealand affordable. Who the hell wanted to hear about that!
That was Jacinda’s gift. A young face. A bright smile. A
“Let’s Do This!” willingness to hit the ground running. And, most of all, an
extraordinary ability to make her middle-class supporters believe that, as with
the relentless rise in the value of their houses, her “politics of kindness”
could be brought into being without serious sacrifice or effort.
Every successful conjurer, however, must have their very own
Jonathan Creek. Somebody to design and build the equipment that turns the
conjurer’s masterful misdirection into a reality that baffles and delights.
Ardern’s misfortune is to preside over a coalition government decidedly lacking
in Jonathan Creeks. Thanks to Clare Curran, Phil Twyford, Iain Lees-Galloway,
Grant Robertson and Shane Jones, too many people in the audience are being
distracted from Ardern’s magic spiel. Some are even beginning to work out how
the tricks are done.
This is not how the story is supposed to end. Not with
people wondering whether the Prime Minister’s promises are ultimately
achievable.
It’s not that “Jacinda” has become less likeable. What New
Zealander, watching her cut such an impressive figure on the international
stage, has not felt a surge of national pride. It’s just that Ardern’s “Magic
Politics”, as with all kinds of fiction, is absolutely dependent on the
audience’s willing suspension of disbelief.
If (or should that be ‘as’) people discover that fighting
climate change and ending child poverty will require the imposition of real and
rising taxes, then Ardern’s illusions will begin to fade. The voters will start
noticing the strings attached to her magical promises.
And the spell will be broken.
This essay was
originally posted on The Daily Blog
of Thursday, 7 March 2019.
