Mean Things

Our work here is done: John Key and his allies have haggled over the price, but the world has been left in no doubt as to what New Zealand has become: a country willing to prostitute its national sovereignty for the privilege of watching a thin-skinned cinematographer make a children's movie.

AND SO IT ENDED – as we all knew it would. With a few million more for the studios; a big slop of salve for Sir Peter Jackson’s wounded pride; and an entirely gratuitous and opportunistic raid on the rights of New Zealand film workers.

That latter outcome – the changes to our employment law – could also be seen as part of Sir Peter’s pacification. After all, it was a contract drawn up by Sir Peter’s own company that the Supreme Court ruled against in the case (Bryson v Three Foot Six) which has inspired the Government’s Employment Relations (Film Production Work) Amendment Act.

One should never overlook the role which pure spite can play in human affairs.

But, by far the most tragic outcome of The Hobbit debacle, is what it has revealed about 21st Century New Zealanders.

How have so many Kiwis lost the capacity for critical thought? When did they lose their historical memory? Who stole their moral compass?

The answers to those questions are located, to a degree that shames us all, in New Zealand’s so-called "mainstream" news media. Critical thinking and historical awareness, informed by a strong moral purpose, have for long been the hallmark of truly effective journalism. Without them the news media inevitably falls prey to either crude sensationalism or calculating partisanship – sometimes both.

Throughout The Hobbit saga, with one or two notable exceptions (take a bow Gordon Campbell) the reportage of the New Zealand media was woeful. Print and electronic journalists alike displayed an alarming unwillingness to critically examine the claims of any individuals or groups other than the trade unions and their spokespeople. Sir Peter Jackson’s accusations were treated by far too many reporters (and, to their shame, editors) as Holy Writ. There was almost no attempt to place what was happening in some sort of historical context (other than rote references to "the days of the Cook Strait ferry stoppages"). The only discernible moral purpose on display was the public punishment and humiliation of anyone foolhardy enough to challenge the version of events handed down from on high by Sir Peter.

This kind of reporting is fast becoming the norm in the United States, but it was profoundly disturbing to witness the "Fox-News-ing" of our own media. The relentless appeal to the audience’s emotions; the refusal to critically examine the protagonists’ claims; the general contempt for "fair and balanced" news coverage; and the sense that the newspapers, radio talkback hosts and television networks were all attempting to goad their audiences into taking some sort of action – "Save The Hobbit" – was truly frightening.

Right-wing bloggers made much of the "peaceful" march by Sir Richard Taylor’s technicians. But to describe a column of people who headed into downtown Wellington with the intention of intimidating – and quite possibly invading – an Actors Equity meeting as "peaceful" is disingenuous. Nor was I the only one to find the querulous, passive-aggressive video harassment of Simon Whipp, Frances Walsh and Robyn Malcolm as they attempted to return to their hotel from Wellington’s Matterhorn Restaurant late on the night of 20 October, deeply, deeply creepy.

This is what happens when the news media is permitted to use its enormous power to whip up public antagonism against a designated "enemy". That it ended in death-threats against Whipp and Walsh, and the verbal intimidation and harassment of the other Equity representatives was entirely predictable.

And where were the voices of restraint? Where was the appeal for tolerance from the Minister of Labour – the calm reaffirmation of the rights of workers to bargain collectively? Ms Wilkinson was invisible. What we saw, instead, was the Attorney-General, the Prime Minister and the Minister of Economic Development openly siding with film industry employers and, at times, even joining in the abuse of the actors. The anti-trade union witch-hunt was given its very own Government seal-of-approval.

Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition was no better. As I have stated elsewhere, the Labour Party simply couldn’t summon up the courage to defend the actors against Sir Peter. Even when the anti-union backlash caught the CTU’s Helen Kelly with the back of its hand. Even when it had morphed into an ideological and political assault upon the entire labour movement, Phil Goff (no doubt channelling the spirit of Sir Walter Nash) maintained a shameful "neither for nor against" neutrality.

The news media, the politicians – all are guilty. But if they are guilty, then so are we. When Paul Henry vilified non-white New Zealanders, the response was instantaneous and unequivocal. Not so with the vilification of Actors Equity. Overwhelmingly, New Zealanders were happy to howl for the blood of Robyn Malcolm and Helen Kelly. Overwhelmingly, we were willing to endorse the demonisation of Simon Whipp.

And what had these unionist done? No more than unions have been doing since the 1880s. They had asked for a show of international solidarity on behalf of their members’ campaign for basic improvements in wages and conditions.

A nation whose children had been taught about the Great Maritime Strike of 1890 would have found nothing at all remarkable in New Zealand and Australian workers co-operating in this way. A nation capable of remembering that its most beloved prime minister, Michael Joseph Savage (and a third of his cabinet) was born in Australia would have laughed at Sir Peter’s crude xenophobia. A nation with even the slightest understanding of the meaning of Labour Day would have scorned the transparently anti-union "Save the Hobbit" rallies.

But we didn’t. And that is the extent of the intellectual and moral corruption which a quarter-of-a-century of neoliberalism has wrought upon the New Zealand character. And it is the young who have fared the worst – for they have nothing against which they can compare the society of selfishness into which they’ve been cast adrift. The spokespersons for their "wired" generation, utterly enthralled to the cult of individualism, had nothing to tell them.

But Ian Mune did. Hunched on the Breakfast programme's sofa, this rumpled ambassador from "Old" New Zealand delivered what was easily the best, the most eloquent, and the most quintessentially Kiwi defence of his fellow actors – and of working people in all walks of life – that we had so far heard. God bless him!

All that remains to be done now is for the Governor-General to give the Royal Assent to the Employment Relations (Film Production Work) Amendment Act. John Key has shown the world exactly what New Zealand has become. He has haggled about the price with Warner Bros., but what we are is now beyond dispute. We’re a country that’s willing to hand across its citizens’ taxes and trample all over its workers rights for the privilege of watching a thin-skinned cinematographer make a children’s movie.

And those few of us who have raised our voices against this travesty; this tragedy; this gross prostitution of our nationhood and sovereignty; we have been taught a lesson.

It’s the lesson the powerful have taught the powerless for centuries uncounted. In his novel The Given Day, the American writer, Denis Lehane, spells out the nature of the lesson with brutal succinctness:

What he’d found out, lying there in the dirt while those fists and feet rained down on him, was that if you bucked certain things – the mean things – they didn’t just buck back. No, no, that wasn’t enough. They crushed you and kept crushing and the only way you escaped alive was through pure luck, nothing else. The mean things of this world had only one lesson – we are meaner than you’d ever imagine.

The Greatest Story Ever Told?

Of Angels and Demons: Is it really possible that a small group of individuals can get together and manufacture a national controversy? If the tale being spun involves 'angelic' national icons and 'demonic' trade unionists? You betcha! (Drawing by M.C. Escher)

WHAT JUST HAPPENED? How did a tiny union’s attempt to improve the lot of its members end up convulsing the entire nation?

What NZ Actor’s Equity tried to do here would scarcely have rated a mention in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Ireland or Australia. Actors, film technicians, specialists of every kind in those countries negotiate with the big film studios all the time.

Only recently, Irish film-makers successfully concluded an industry-wide collective agreement. Ireland, you’ll recall, was identified by Sir Peter Jackson’s people as one of the places to which location shooting for The Hobbit might be shifted.

Huh?

Why would you shift location filming to a country that already has an industry-wide collective agreement because workers in your own country were attempting to negotiate something very similar for themselves?

It doesn’t make sense.

Unless the entire controversy has been manufactured: unless all that we have witnessed since 28th September, when Sir Peter Jackson launched a very public broadside against the actors’ union, is a cleverly spun fiction. A tale replete with noble hero (Sir Peter) and evil villains (the unions) designed to exculpate its authors from any and all blame for taking The Hobbit offshore.

Can people really do that? Is it really possible for a small group of individuals to sit down and plan a whole series of actions designed to secure a predetermined set of outcomes? How on earth could they be sure that something wouldn’t go wrong: that they wouldn’t be found out? Wouldn’t the certain and catastrophic costs of having such a conspiracy unmasked vastly outweigh the potential benefits from its successful execution?

In most cases that would be the case, but The Hobbit is not "most cases" – far from it.

For a start, the principal player in this drama is an internationally acclaimed movie maestro, a national hero and a knight of the realm.

As citizens of a tiny nation located at the bottom of the world, New Zealanders are fiercely protective of such folk, and the news media, more than ever anxious to reflect the likes and dislikes of its readers, listeners and viewers, is not about to contradict them by criticising an "iconic" figure like Sir Peter.

For another thing, the designated villains of this drama – NZ Actors Equity and the Council of Trade Unions – are tailor-made for the role of "patsy".

Less than a month from now, on November 12th, trade unionists will commemorate the 98th anniversary of the murder of striker Fred Evans by a gang of scabs and thugs in the little mining town of Waihi. Ever since that bloody day in 1912 the New Zealand trade union movement has been subjected to an unending campaign of vilification and persecution by a combination of extremely powerful economic and political interests.

Farmers, business leaders, conservative politicians, right-wing editors and journalists, and (almost reflexively) a considerable portion of the New Zealand middle-class have never had a good word to say about trade unions. In any stand-off between capital and labour (and especially if capital is represented by a national hero) those in the strongest position to influence public opinion can be relied upon absolutely to blame the unions.

This extraordinary anti-union bias was on display as recently as last Sunday when viewers of the Q+A current affairs programme on TV One saw the show’s host, Paul Holmes, hector, browbeat, talk-over, interrupt and generally bully CTU president, Helen Kelly, as she stoically attempted to explain the union’s position on The Hobbit.

Small wonder, then, that 87 percent of respondents to a poll on the Stuff website blamed the unions for The Hobbit’s woes.

From this practically unassailable position, Sir Peter and the American studios putting up the money for The Hobbit, are well-placed to dictate the terms and conditions upon which the production remains in New Zealand.

If the Prime Minister and his Cabinet refuse to increase the subsidies on offer to match those available overseas, Sir Peter and Warner Bros. can depart these shores with their reputations unsullied – confident that it’s the "bloody unions" who will cop all the flak.

If the Government accedes to their demands, not only will Sir Peter be able to bask in the warm approbation of a grateful nation, but so, too, will John Key. New Zealand’s reputation as an effectively "non-union" filming location will be restored – along with generous state subsidies.

Also happy will be that permanent combination of anti-union interests. Thanks to The Hobbit controversy, the CTU’s "Fairness at Work" campaign lies dead in the water.

I especially enjoyed the irony of Sir Richard Taylor’s Weta Workshops-organised "Save The Hobbit" rallies on – of all days – Labour Day.

From beginning to end, it’s been a marvellous tale, masterfully told.

Perhaps, one day, Sir Peter will turn it all into an award-winning film.

This essay was originally published in The Press of Tuesday, 26 October 2010.　

A Public Appeal to "Public Address"

Official Warning: This celebrated adaptation of a NZ Department of Health warning sticker against "Industrial Disease" was distributed by the Waterside Workers Union and their allies during the 1951 Waterfront Dispute.

Jackson's Wounded Pride

"Now listen here you bloody orcs!" Nothing is more wounding to the charismatic leader than the perceived "disloyalty" of those given the privilege of serving him. For Sir Peter Jackson, NZ Actors Equity are nothing but a brood of ungrateful extortionists. Is he about to punish them by taking The Hobbit offshore?

IT’S BEEN UGLY. The news media has been calling it an "industrial dispute", but more and more evidence is emerging that the furor over the production of The Hobbit has been almost entirely of Sir Peter Jackson’s own making.

The CTU President, Helen Kelly, summed up the feelings of those most closely involved in the controversy when she accused Jackson of behaving "like a spoiled brat".

Like so many egotistical and paternalistic business tycoons before him (Andrew Carnegie springs to mind) Jackson has been willing to go to extraordinary lengths to prevent his employees from either joining or forming a union. (That’s right, I said "employees", because no matter what the film industry bosses say, that’s exactly what actors and technicians working on a long-term project like The Hobbit are.)

Men like Jackson demonstrate what the founder of sociology, Max Weber, called "charismatic leadership". At the heart of this, the most ancient form of leadership, is the concept of loyalty.

For the charismatic leader the intense bond of personal fealty is all-important. Those who follow the charismatic leader do so because he has demonstrated extraordinary ability. He is a superior being, and that not only gives him the right to lead, but also imposes a moral obligation on all "lesser beings" to follow.

The trade union is thus the mortal enemy of the charismatic leader – even though it recognises, albeit tacitly, his singular power and authority. Against this "one", argues the union, we must counterpose the "many".

The union is thus – in Weberian terms – a manifestation of the most modern, "rational-legal", form of authority. It is a collective method of goal-setting and decision-making, based on rules and processes set in place not at the whim of a single individual, but through the democratic deliberation of the group. In place of the intense emotional bond linking the charismatic leader to his followers, the trade union substitutes the even stronger bonds of solidarity.

It is surely no accident that Jackson made his reputation translating the work of J.R.R. Tolkien to the big screen. For what is Tolkien’s great trilogy if not a marvelous, magical, but essentially anachronistic evocation of the charismatic and traditional forms of leadership which, even in Tolkien’s childhood, were fast disappearing from the Western world?

In his own eyes, Jackson is a Gandalf, an Aragorn, a Boromir figure: a person full of intrinsic power. By challenging that power: by telling him that such "lesser beings" as actors possess an equal right to shape the world in which they live and work; Actor’s Equity has struck a blow at the very heart of Jackson’s self-perception – and he is fighting back.

He’s not alone. Around Jackson’s banner have gathered every solipsistic libertarian geek, every Ayn Rand devotee, and every National and Act Party voter yet to fathom that while it is often the charismatic entrepreneur who begins the great tales of capitalism, it is the rational-legal or "bureaucratic" modern corporation that finishes them.

No wonder, then, that Actors Equity is being assailed by the Weta Workshop technicians. There is a world of difference between the clever boys and girls who work alone in front of a computer screen, and those quintessential collectivists –actors. The English language has for centuries possessed a collective noun for "a troupe" of actors. It has yet to find one for CGI wizards.

The deep prejudices that so many New Zealanders harbour against trade unions speak eloquently of the "rugged individualism" so intrinsic to the Anglo-Saxon settler cultures. For these folk, New Zealand was the place in which their "extraordinariness" was bound to be seen more plainly than in the overcrowded homeland. It was to be the place where little men became big.

The idea that a man only reaches the heights by climbing on to the backs of other men simply didn't occur to them.

This country will never reach its full potential until it finally enters the modern age and accepts that the corporation and the union – both of which are founded on the principle of rational-legal authority – are brothers under the skin. The most progressive elements in our society have always known this. As the late Bruce Jesson shrewdly observed: "National knows how to govern for capitalists, but only Labour knows how to govern for capitalism."

I fear that day is a long way off. Listening this morning to Radio New Zealand’s Geoff Robinson, with all the treakly sanctimony of a reactionary Anglican parson, bestow his blessing upon a breakaway "union" of scab actors, was a truly dispiriting experience. It reminded me that when Sid Holland’s National Government brought in the 1951 Emergency Regulations suspending (among many other rights and liberties) the freedom of the press, not one of the editors of the 170 newspapers then published in New Zealand was willing to risk jail by challenging the State’s right to censor the news media.

Radio New Zealand is to be congratulated, however, for broadcasting the interview with Steve Zeitchik of the Los Angeles Times. Zeitchik’s answers to Patrick O'Meara's questions concerning the fate of The Hobbit strongly suggested that in releasing a statement confirming last-minute doubts about the film’s ultimate location, Warner Brothers were simply humouring their temperamental, tantrum-throwing Kiwi producer.

It is now very clear that if the production of The Hobbit does go offshore, it will be entirely the decision of the charismatic Sir Peter Jackson’s wounded pride.

Misdirection (How "The Hobbit" Buried "Fairness at Work")

Misdirection: The furore reignited by Sir Peter Jackson and his minions over the production of "The Hobbit" occurred on the same day as 22,000 workers protested the National Government's plans to curtail workers rights. This fortunate "coincidence" (along with a vicious anti-union outburst from the country's DHBs) drove the issues relating to "Fairness at Work" clean off the nation's front pages.

THEY CAME HOWLING through the streets of Wellington like an army of bloodthirsty orcs. And striding at the head of this rabble of hysterical computer geeks, dull-witted gaffers and troll-like grips was the wizard of Weta Workshops, Sir Richard Taylor, energetically playing the role of Saruman to Sir Peter Jackson’s Sauron.

Meanwhile, the Black Gates of Mordor (a.k.a The Wairarapa) opened – spewing forth those two spiteful Nazgul, Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens. Raising high their Dark Lord’s banner, they made a beeline for the White City (a.k.a the studios of Radio New Zealand).

Barring the way, their bright red banners glowing in the morning sunlight, stood a tiny army of elves and men (a.k.a. NZ Actors Equity and the CTU). At its head, awaiting the onset of Mordor and Isengard with drawn swords, were Robyn Malcolm and Helen Kelly.

And over all, untouched by the media lights in its multi-million-dollar fortress, the Eye of Jackson cast its baleful glare. Safe behind his impenetrable walls, Sir Peter will only ride forth when the final battle has been won and the last contract signed – the wheels of his midnight SUV rolling heedlessly over the corpses of slain actors and eviscerated unions.

* * * * *

AND WHAT A COINCIDENCE (if coincidence it was) that Jackson’s vicious display of anti-union fury should occur within 24 hours of 22,000 workers turning out to demonstrate their opposition to the National Government’s Employment Relations Amendment Bill.

And, of course, Jackson wasn’t alone. The DHB’s also chose 20 October to launch a full-scale assault upon the unions representing medical radiographers and laboratory technicians.

How convenient, because, who knows, without the scurrilous, unsubstantiated and completely self-defeating claims scattered around by the DHBs; without Taylor’s mob and Jackson’s scaremongering letter; the New Zealand public might have been able to concentrate their minds on the issues being raised at the CTU’s "Fairness at Work" rallies.

Without these spectacular employer provocations inflaming their passions and diverting their attention, decent New Zealanders might even have felt a twinge of sympathy – even empathy – for the plight of the invisible hundreds-of-thousands of working-class people who, day-after-day, keep this society functioning.

And don’t tell me that there is no such thing as "the working-class" any more. Don’t pretend that we are all, in John Lennon’s words: "so clever and classless and free". Because, if you had been sitting where I was sitting yesterday afternoon you would know what a dangerous and self-serving lie that is.

Seated in the Telstra Clear Event Centre in Manukau yesterday, watching the thousands of union members as they slowly filled up the vast space in front of me, it was as though I had been transported to a wholly different New Zealand.

This wasn’t the bright, white world of the television ads: the world where everyone is beautiful and everything is new. Nor was it the world of Ken and Barbie news presenters, breathlessly relating the details of the latest celebrity scandal. The faces of the men and women in front of me were lined by care and etched with hardship. Many of them were wearing the livery of their masters – like the servants of 18th Century aristocrats. Others came straight from the factory floor in boots and overalls.

And, overwhelmingly, the working people in front of me were brown-skinned. Maori and Pasifika, Asian, Middle Eastern and African. Represented on that rapidly filling floor were scores of languages and dozens of cultures. It was another New Zealand altogether, and upon its collective back, every day, the New Zealand of the rich and the comfortable does its business.

Whether the rich and the comfortable allow themselves to be carried in wilful ignorance, or callous indifference, matters much less than the fact that the people upon whose backs they ride have become invisible to them.

The hopes and fears, struggles and triumphs of working people simply don’t matter to this rich and comfortable New Zealand. It never drives through their neighbourhoods, it doesn’t drink in their pubs, it knows nothing of the great rows of factories, warehouses and shops where they work. The people who drive the trucks, who unload the ships, who keep the water flowing through the taps and the electricity flowing down the wires are seen as mere appendages to the machines they operate. They are not people – they are services, servants, things.

And things are not supposed to talk back, complain, ask for more, demand a say: things are supposed to work when they’re switched on, and to shut-down when they’re switched off.

I wish the rich and the comfortable – the New Zealand that switches human-beings on and off – had been in that hall yesterday. I wish they could have heard the great shout that went up when Robert Reid, Secretary of the National Distribution Union, cried out:

We will defeat this bill, nothing is surer! If not today, we will defeat it tomorrow; if not tomorrow, we will defeat it on the streets, we will defeat it in the workplaces, we will defeat it next year when we throw this anti-union Government out! We defeated John Banks and got Len Brown in ... We can win, we will win, we will throw this bill and this Government into the dustbin of history!

That’s what rich and comfortable New Zealand has forgotten, you see: that these "things" they switch on and off have votes – and are learning how to use them.

The sword that was broken is being reforged.

The Dark Lord hasn’t won yet.

The Mouths of Sauron

The Mouth of Sauron? Attorney-General, Chris Finlayson, has very unwisely stepped from the sidelines of the dispute between Sir Peter Jackson and NZ Actors Equity to voice his support for the legal claims of Hollywood's Dark Lords.

"UNION" – it’s such a small word, and yet a person’s reaction to it can tell you so much about them. Indeed, to my mind there is no better test of character than the choices people make when confronted with an industrial dispute. The current stoush between the producers of The Hobbit and the union representing New Zealand’s actors has proved especially revealing in this regard.

Sir Peter Jackson’s response has been particularly disappointing. To most New Zealanders, Sir Peter is the epitome of Kiwi can-do-ism. He’s the man who did what no one believed could be done in the time-frame no one believed it could be done in. His hugely successful Lord of the Rings trilogy not only brought Tolkien’s magical prose to life on the cinema screen, it also presented New Zealand’s wild and unspoiled beauty to an astonished world.

So audacious was Sir Peter’s LOTR project that Kiwi actors, extras and technicians fell over themselves to help him. From the point of view of this country’s creative community (if not the trilogy’s hard-nosed Hollywood backers) LOTR was a demonstration of what New Zealanders could do. Sir Peter became the maestro of one vast, collective labour of love.

It made his name, and it made him a very considerable fortune – which none of us begrudged him. His success was our success.

And that’s what makes his response to NZ Actors Equity’s request for dialogue so very, very disappointing. Instead of siding with the people who helped to make him the movie mogul he is today, he’s sided with the Hollywood bosses.

Just imagine how much more New Zealanders would have loved and admired him if he had said to the industry big-wigs: "Look, guys, we were willing to under-sell ourselves once – just to show you what we could do. But now that we Kiwis have proved we’re the equal of film-makers anywhere, it’s time to pay us accordingly."

Sadly, what he actually did when push came to shove was become a union-buster.

The response has been fascinating.

The Attorney-General, Chris Finlayson, has weighed in on Hollywood’s behalf by asserting that any negotiations with "Independent Contractors" would constitute price-fixing under s30 of the Commerce Act.

This is extraordinary, but Mr Finlayson’s price-fixing argument is one with which the American trade unions would be all-too-familiar – going all the way back to the Sherman Act of 1890.

The Sherman Act was originally intended to combat the anti-competitive behaviour of monopolistic big-business "trusts" like Standard Oil, but was seized upon by anti-union employers as a way of preventing unions (which they characterised as "cartels" of workers) from acting as a "restraint of trade" by collectively "fixing" the price of their labour.

Section 30 of the Commerce Act outlaws any contract which sets out to, "or is likely to have the effect of fixing, controlling, or maintaining, or providing for the fixing, controlling, or maintaining, of the price for goods or services". So, any attempt by a group of contractors (i.e. actors) to collectively establish a common price for their services would indeed be illegal.

Needless to say, Sir Peter and his Holywood mates have gone to considerable lengths to ensure that everybody who wishes to participate in their productions does so as an "Independent Contractor" – not as an employee.

There is, of course, nothing to prevent Sir Peter from hiring actors, extras and technicians as "fixed-term employees". Nothing, that is, except the obligation which he would then have to recognise their union, bargain with it in good faith, and afford its members all the rights enjoyed by other New Zealand workers.

The Attorney-General knows this, of course, but has entered the fray on the Employers’ side anyway. Unwisely, I would say, in light of the fact that since the mid-1980s Cabinet Ministers have sensibly elected to remain "on the sidelines" of industrial disputes to which the Crown is not a party.

But Sir Peter and Mr Finlayson are not the only people whose behaviour has given us cause for consternation over the past few days.

What should we make of the well-known media personality and (of all people) the film producer (!) who rolled up to the NZ Actors Equity union-meeting in Grey Lynn expecting to be admitted? How would these gentlemen react, I wonder, if Equity’s Frances Walsh appeared outside their production meetings expecting to join their discussions?

It’s sad really. The neoliberal model of industrial relations has been in place for so long that a whole generation has grown up without the faintest knowledge of what it means to stand together in unity, or to express solidarity with a group of workers under attack.

Since we’ve been discussing Tolkein’s works, let me close with a passage from Lord of the Rings. It concerns the messenger of the Dark Lord, Sauron.

Tolkien describes him thus:

The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dur he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: ‘I am the Mouth of Sauron.’

It is to be hoped that all the mouthpieces of Neoliberalism: all the men and women who long ago forgot what it means to stand in solidarity with their fellow New Zealanders; all the "industry people" who have spent the last few days doing everything they could to undermine the unity of NZ Actors Equity; suffer the same fate as Sauron’s evil messenger.