Christchurch City Council Needs Choristers - Not Soloists

A Dangerous Duet: The failure of leadership on the part of the Christchurch City Council's CEO, Tony Marryatt (Left) and its Mayor, Bob Parker (Right) has plunged the city's sole remaining local democratic institution into crisis. The appointment of a Government "Observer" to "advise" Cantabrians' democratically elected representatives has only added to their humiliation.

CANTABRIANS DESERVED BETTER from the Christchurch City Council. Thanks to the inability of their elected representatives to fulfil their civic responsibilities, the citizens of Christchurch may lose their right to local democratic representation.

The humiliation of a government-appointed “observer” has already been visited upon the Council, and the threat of outright dissolution, though unspoken, is very real. Political gridlock in the face of critical decisions that cannot wait was the excuse for shutting down the Canterbury Regional Council. It’s a daunting precedent.

The tragic aspect of Christchurch’s local government crisis is that it comes at a time when the need for effective democratic representation has never been greater. The huge destruction wrought by a succession of earthquakes has spawned an equally huge array of public and private remedial bureaucracies. Equipped with formidable powers, these bureaucracies march to the mechanical drum-beat of hierarchy and administrative fiat – not democratic accountability. The men and women elected to the Christchurch City Council constitute the only effective local check upon the power of these institutions. To be the voice of the quake-stricken people of Christchurch, they must cease acting as soloists and become choristers.

But to meld a council of strong-willed and opinionated individuals into a united team of citizens’ advocates requires leadership of the highest order. Unfortunately, this has not been forthcoming. Neither the Mayor, Bob Parker, nor the Council CEO, Tony Marryatt, appear to have grasped the urgency of transforming the Council into the principal advocate of – and for – Christchurch’s battered citizens. On the contrary, both men seem to have scant regard for the three principles indispensable to the construction of unity: transparency; consultation; and accountability.

Local democracy is not about gathering together a bare majority of compliant cronies whose sole contribution to local government is to rubber-stamp the joint recommendations of the Mayor and his CEO. And it is certainly not about the Mayor’s cronies, puffed-up with pride at their insider status, heaping scorn upon those councillors denied admission to the magic circle of power. Indeed, nothing is more calculated to breed disunity, disaffection and defensiveness: the very feelings that cause politicians to resort to that time-honoured response to secrecy and exclusion – the leak.

Of all the many sins capable of arousing the fury of administrative authoritarians the leaking of privileged information is the most egregious. Their invariable response is to double-down on the secrecy while setting in motion a witch-hunt for the person or persons responsible. The “Us versus Them” mentality is thus transferred from the council table to the council bureaucracy. In consequence, the political and administrative dysfunction, far from being reduced, intensifies.

Administrative Authoritarianism thus lies at the heart of Christchurch’s local government crisis. In a nutshell, the administrative authoritarian regards the elected representative as an ill-informed, unprofessional irritant to the “effective and efficient” operation of whatever institution they have been hired (usually on an exorbitant salary) to administer.

A CEO in the grip of administrative authoritarianism has a vested interest in surrounding himself with vainglorious but intellectually vacuous politicians; persons easily persuaded to stand in the glare of the media’s spotlights and “sell” policies they had no hand in fashioning, and about which they have little to contribute beyond the talking-points handed to them by the CEO’s public relations “experts”.

Two manifestations of administrative authoritarianism deserve special attention. The so far unsuccessful attempts by local government officials to impose legal restraints on the degree to which elected representatives can participate in contentious debates. And, the Local Government Commission’s on-going campaign to reduce the number of elected representatives on city councils and with them the ratio of councillors to citizens.

In 1993, Christchurch – which then boasted a council of twenty-four elected representatives – won the coveted Carl Bertelsmann Prize for “Best Governed City in the World”. A decade later the Local Government Commission reduced the number of Christchurch City Councillors to twelve. Where once the Mayor and CEO of Christchurch City had to round-up twelve to thirteen compliant councillors, they now needed to corral only six or seven.

The subordination of active democratic participation to “effective and efficient” management is a dangerous development at the best of times, but in the face of natural disasters on the scale of the Christchurch earthquakes it is nothing less than catastrophic.

Citizens desperate to “get things done” all-too-easily fall prey to the hard-edged promptings of administrative authoritarians – handing over powers that should never be surrendered to those who dismiss democracy as an unwelcome hindrance to “good governance”.

Disasters bring with them remedial institutions guided by – at best – a ruthless utilitarianism. Which is why, amidst impassive bureaucracies dedicated to “the greatest good for the greatest number” there must remain a united and democratic Christchurch City Council, jealously guarding its power to protect and serve that most vulnerable, but important, of persons: the individual citizen.

This essay was originally published in The Press of Tuesday, 31^st January 2012.

Making Connections

Big-ups to the new Super-Mayor: Len Brown’s mayoral campaign provides a text-book example of "the politics of connection".

HAD THE EARTH not moved on 4 September, it’s highly likely New Zealanders would have woken up on 10 October to find four new mayors in the four main centres.

The devastating earthquake which struck Canterbury, and Mayor Bob Parker’s response to the crisis it created, dramatically changed the electoral equation in Christchurch City.

In Mr Parker’s own words: "During the earthquake enough people saw something in me that they thought was worthy of their support. The community had a chance to see me experiencing all of the same trauma and getting on with the job, just like they had to, and I’m sure that did me no harm."

Few would dispute that assessment, and in a curious way Mr Parker’s explanation of why Cantabrians flocked to the incumbent’s mayoral banner also explains why in Auckland, Wellington and Dunedin so many voters deserted theirs.

Right across the country there is a growing sense of disconnection between ordinary citizens and the people who govern them.

For democracy to work, voters need to feel that their communities and their country are being run by people committed to serving their interests. More importantly, they strongly believe that big changes – the sort that have a real impact on their day-to-day lives – should never be made without their prior consent.

Before the earthquake, most Cantabrians were of the view that Mayor Parker had shown insufficient deference to the wishes of Christchurch voters, and that too many important Council obligations were being undertaken (or set aside) behind closed doors.

Mr Parker’s challenger, Jim Anderton, tapped into this vein of popular discontent with considerable success: the one big poll conducted prior to the earthquake placed him well ahead of his opponent.

It was only when Christchurch voters were able to see with their own eyes that their Mayor was experiencing the same intense emotions as themselves; that he, too, was worried about his family, his home, his neighbours and his city; only when their shared suffering had transformed him into one of them could Mr Parker be reconnected to the democratic power-grid.

And the moment that reconnection was made, Mr Anderton’s cause was lost.

In Auckland, Wellington and Dunedin, however, there was no natural disaster to reconnect the rulers with the ruled. In these cities (and many others besides) the voters’ growing disaffection with unaccountable politicians and bureaucrats was given dramatic political expression.

In Auckland, particularly, Len Brown’s mayoral campaign provides a text-book example of "the politics of connection".

From the get-go he aligned himself with the majority of Aucklanders who were either opposed to or uneasy about the way the amalgamation of Auckland’s eight local authorities into a single "super-city" was being managed.

Many people feared the new entity would become a political vehicle for the sort of far-right economic policies associated with the Act Party leader (and Minister for Local Government) Rodney Hide. They were angry that the new structures of local governance were being imposed on them without a clear democratic mandate.

Mr Brown became their champion. He promised to make the new super-city work for everyone – not just a wealthy few.

It would be futile to deny that there was a left-wing flavour to Mr Brown’s rhetoric, but what mattered much more was the strong connection which existed between the Manukau Mayor and Manukau’s voters.

In many ways Mr Brown is the antithesis of a modern-day leftist. He is a devout Christian who evinces what the Americans like to call "traditional family values", and he’s old-fashioned enough to use expressions like "for the love of the people" when explaining his political motivation.

Mr Brown’s traditional values are, however, the reason why so many Pasifika and Maori voters living in South Auckland look upon him as one of their own. It’s why so many Samoan ministers and Tongan pastors stood up in their churches and urged their congregations to go home and vote for the Palangi lawyer who – more than any other Mayoral candidate – makes a genuine connection with their people.

Some commentators are characterising the victories of Len Brown, Dunedin’s Dave Cull and (possibly) Wellington’s Celia Wade-Brown as harbingers of a 2011 Labour victory.

I’ve yet to be convinced.

The question that must be answered before predicting a change of government in 2011 is whether or not Labour, and its leader, Phil Goff, are making the sort of vital connections with their electoral base that swept Mr Parker and Mr Brown to victory.

The pollsters suggest that Labour’s not there yet. More importantly, they’re saying that the Prime Minister, John Key, still is.

Unless and until Labour and Phil Goff (or some fresher face) can bring about a seismic shift equal in magnitude to the real one of 4 September, any connection between the voting behaviour of 2010 and 2011 must remain moot.

This essay was originally published in The Press of Tuesday, 12 October 2010.

From His Cold Dead Hands

In his sights: Jim Anderton's campaigning skills pose a deadly threat to Christchurch Mayor, Bob Parker.

JIM ANDERTON is not the sort of politician to gracefully surrender political office for a well-earned retirement. Indeed, the prospect of Jim sitting quietly in a garden somewhere, puzzling out The Press’s crossword in between sips of sweetened tea, is so preposterously unlikely that it can be immediately discounted. No, James Patrick Anderton will die with his political boots on. They will have to prise the musket of power from his cold dead hands.

No surprise, then, to learn that Jim is taking aim at "Sideshow Bob" Parker for the Christchurch mayoralty.

Should Parker be worried?

Frankly, yes – he should. Because Jim is one of this country’s great campaigners. The fact that he was able, against all predictions, to hold Sydenham (later to become Wigram) in 1990 bears testimony to his extraordinary organisational prowess. So does Christchurch’s centre-left 2021 Team, which Jim (and his wife, Carole) played a major role in establishing back in the 1990s. Parker will have to whistle-up a superior on-the-ground organisation to beat Jim’s machine – and that will take some doing. He will also be running against his own record as Mayor – and that, too, will be far from easy.

Parker came into office back in 2007 as something of a political "clean-skin". He carried no obvious baggage from either the Left or the Right – a perception he turned to his political advantage with obvious success. Combined with his enduring television celebrity persona; his impressive record as the Mayor of the Bank’s Peninsula District Council; and his youthful and affable personality, Parker’s "independent", non-ideological, image made him the ideal candidate to succeed the equally youthful and affable Gary Moore.

So strong were these positive perceptions that Parker was able to win the Mayoralty without a genuine on-the-ground organisation. He already had massive name-recognition, a friendly and uncontroversial image, and his predecessor’s tacit endorsement. All he needed to become Mayor was a decent-sized war-chest and a half-way competent PR team – and he had both.

Once in office, however, Parker soon revealed himself to be a man of the Right. His populist crusade against "Boy Racers" provided the first indication of his deeply authoritarian political instincts. Not that his "tough" approach to these wayward youngsters counted against him with most Christchurch voters – not initially anyway. The real political damage followed his Council's curious decision to invest $17 million in a number of the right-wing businessman, Dave Henderson’s, speculative property ventures, and his attempt to impose a 24 percent rent-hike on some of the City’s poorest citizens.

These decision’s were fatal to Parker’s most valuable political asset – his non-ideological, competent and friendly image. No longer was he "that nice Bob Parker". Taken with his right-wing-dominated Christchurch City Council’s moves against the municipally-owned bus company, and his own role in the National Government’s outrageous anti-democratic coup against Environment Canterbury – Parker’s "signature" decisions in favour of the Right transformed him into "Hendo’s mate", and the creepy "Sideshow Bob" off The Simpsons.

It is this, the politically-transformed, and much-diminished, Bob Parker, that Jim is running against. And Parker will need a lot more than wads of cash and PR spin to slough off the dirty-skin in which Jim has rhetorically encased him.

The Incumbent’s best bet will be to focus on Jim’s age, and to play up his refusal to stand down as the MP for Wigram. Slim reeds at best – and unlikely to off-set the voters’ negative perceptions of Parker’s mayoral performance.

Jim’s campaign will suffer, however, from an issue that is related to his age and his office. Probably not in the front of the voters’ minds, but quite likely at the back of them, will be a nagging question: "Why has Jim no obvious protégé - or successor?"

After 26 years as a Christchurch MP, Jim should have an obvious heir-apparent, someone who could step into the Wigram seat and hold it for the Progressives. Or, even better, someone who, with Jim’s (and Jim’s machine’s) support, could make a credible run for the Christchurch mayoralty.

Sadly, there is no such person.

Jim is a wonderful campaigner, but he has not proved to be the sort of leader who gives thought to finding and preparing the person who will preserve his achievements and champion his causes after he has gone.

It will be a poor epitaph for what has been a remarkable political life, if the person who prises the power from James Patrick Anderton’s cold dead hands turns out to be not his chosen successor – but his worst enemy.