Maiden Statement

“E mahara iho ana, he waka ka urutomo; he ika rere ki Hikurangi rā ia.” Ka maumahara hoki ki aku tīpuna, arā, a Hone rāua ko Wahine, a Elsdon rāua ko Zeta; haere e ngā mate, haere atu koutou i te huanui, i te ara kua papa tauria e te tapuwae kauika tangata. Takoto mai koutou i te urunga e kore nekehia, i te moenga e kore hikitia. Haere, haere, haere, whakaoti atu koutou.

Ki taku iwi a Ngāti Porou, aku mātua a Janet rāua ko Hone, taku tuahine a Erin, taku teina a Tūrei, ngā whanaunga, ngā hoa piripono, ngā mihi nui mō tā koutou tautoko mai i tēnei tamaiti, mokopuna i runga i tēnei huarahi hōu i tēnei rā me ngā rā kei mua. Ki aku hoa mahi hoki o Te Rōpū Reipa, te Pirimia Helen Clark, tēnā koe. He mihi atu tēnei kia koutou katoa. I te ika rere, mai i te tihi o Hikurangi maunga horapa ana ki te ao.

Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

[An interpretation in English was given to the House.]

[“I thought the canoe was securely moored, but it became like a flying fish to Hikurangi.” I think of my grandparents as well, Hone and Wahine, Elsdon and Zeta. Farewell the dead, depart on the highway, on the well-worn track. Lie there at the entrance on the resting place where you will not be disturbed. Depart, leave, go on your way for ever.

To my Ngāti Porou people, to my parents Janet and Hone, my sister Erin, my young brother Turei, to my relations and close friends, my special acknowledgments to you all for supporting me, your child, on this new pathway today and in the days ahead. I want to acknowledge my colleagues of the Labour Party as well; and to the Prime Minister Helen Clark, thank you, too. This is a greeting to you all. From the flying fish from the peak of Hikurangi, spread your net out to the world. Greetings, greetings, and greetings to you all.]

It is an honour to stand in this House and deliver my maiden statement. I pay tribute to all those who have gone before me and paved the way for my development and acceptance in this great House. In particular, I acknowledge the many women who have passed through these halls and the sacrifices they made to bring about the changes that have allowed me to stand here today and accept my place in this Parliament. I am proud to stand here as the 86th woman to be sworn into the House of Representatives.

While we, as women, have certainly come a long way in the 60 years since the election of our first woman member of Parliament, I fear that we may have become too complacent. New Zealand, with nearly 30 percent female representation in this Parliament, sits at 16th out of the 133 countries listed by the Women in National Parliaments sector of the Inter-Parliamentary Union. I hope that by 2019, the 100th anniversary of the law change allowing women to stand for Parliament, we are a little closer to achieving 50 percent representation for women in this Parliament.

I believe that the next issue we must tackle on behalf of women is equal pay for work of equal value. After 30 years of equal pay law, women’s average total weekly earnings are still 23 percent lower than men’s earnings. In Labour’s 2002 election policies, we pledged we would develop a programme to promote equal pay for work of equal value and, where appropriate, introduce measures to address the gap between male and female wage rates. I pay tribute to the work done by the Hon Margaret Wilson in this area and the advances that are being made. This is no mean feat, as we are unfortunately operating in quite a different industrial environment from that which existed at the time of the short-lived Employment Equity Act of 1990. But I have confidence in the passion and commitment I have seen displayed by the women MPs and members of my own party on this issue, and I look forward to working with them to progress this cause.

As has become blindingly obvious to all over the last week, I come from a political family. For as long as I can remember, politics has been discussed and debated, and Labour Party meetings were, for me, as normal as going to school. Current events were routinely discussed at the dinner table, and punishments and curfews were always seen as a starting point for ongoing good-faith negotiations. One of my most vivid childhood memories is of being age 6 and marching with my mother in the 1981 anti-Springbok tour protest in Auckland. I can still remember the complex understanding I had of what that event was about. I remember my mum explaining in some detail the situation in South Africa, and then feeling the injustice of the situation fill me with anger. I was so incensed that, to the horror of my teacher at the time, I even talked about it at show-and-tell. I also remember the chaos when papa came, all the way from the coast, grasping prized tickets to the All Blacks - Springboks test match. Mum grabbed the tickets, put them in her mouth, and chewed them up. These are the moments that have stuck with me throughout the years—and papa did eventually start talking to mum again.

But my parents’ values and ideals were not limited just to the political arena. We were not a wealthy family, although we certainly had enough to put food on the table. Yet we never took for granted what little we had, and always knew there were plenty of other families who had far less. I always knew that I came from a privileged family. We did not have much money but my parents and grandparents loved me, encouraged me, and provided a stimulating learning environment, free from conflict and free from fear. The consistency of the messages I received in my upbringing, mirrored in the political activism that I observed, cemented the values and principles of the Labour Party in me from an early age.

Looking back at this period of my life, it was not an easy time to grow up in a bicultural household. At school I was constantly forced to choose between my two families. At the beginning of each school year it was required that for ethnicity I select one box only. I used to alternate between the two. I hate to think what I did to the statistics at that time. It was extremely confusing as a young child to be told constantly that I could not be both, when quite obviously I was.

Māori was barely spoken at all at my primary school, and I lived in fear of new teachers or replacement teachers who would come in and absolutely murder the pronunciation of my name. The teasing that always ensued meant that not only did I come to resent my name but also I would fake illness whenever I knew our regular teacher was going to be away, in order to escape the inevitable humiliation. Looking back now, I have to wonder how hard it was for the kids who actually looked different and whose customs and upbringing meant they behaved differently. If I felt marginalised because of my name, I cannot even begin to appreciate what they went through.

We moved to Gisborne when I was 7. Although the cultural environment was noticeably different, it was not until I started at Ilminster Intermediate, a fantastic school in Kaiti, Gisborne, that I even encountered te reo Māori in the classroom, and this continued throughout my studies at Lytton High School. It is hard to explain just what a relief this experience was. It validated a part of me that, until this point, had not only been ignored by the education system but discouraged. It comes as no surprise to me that, according to the 2001 census, people in my age group are the least likely to speak Māori of all the age categories. It is one of my greatest regrets that I cannot speak the language of my grandparents. However, what is encouraging and bodes well for the future of the language is that nearly half of all Māori speakers now are under the age of 25.

I firmly believe that the Māori language should be taught in all our schools, at least up to high school level. I cannot think of any reason that an official language of this country should not make up a compulsory part of the primary school curriculum. I certainly wish it had been that way in my day. People might have pronounced my name correctly, for a start.

Whilst at primary school I soon learnt that not all my peers, if any, shared an interest in politics. Trying to change a topic of conversation from what we were going to name our ponies, to the relative merits of the corporal punishment debate was always a lost cause. It did not take me long to work out that the only people willing to indulge me were the teachers, and with my already well-developed social barometer I realised that was not a good look. So I withdrew from political life at age 8½.

At the legal age of political consent I joined the New Zealand Labour Party, and while at high school I joined a group of my friends up and we formed the Gisborne Labour Party youth branch. The Hon Peter Dunne even came to Gisborne to present us with the Labour Party charter.

As is often the norm, university was the beginning of my serious political activism. The introduction of the student loan scheme, means testing of student allowances, and skyrocketing student fees made for a fairly volatile student body. The Government had campaigned on removing the $1,300 tertiary tuition fee, and it had. What it did not tell us was that it was replacing it with a $3,000 tertiary tuition fee. Student protests were well attended, although, not surprisingly, completely ignored. It was incredibly frustrating, and the media seemed intent on focusing on some random anonymous idiot who had spent his student loan on a holiday to Bali or a widescreen television, and ignoring the majority of us who worked all though university, sometimes to the detriment of our studies.

We soon found out, once we left university, that not only did we have to start our working lives in serious debt but also the debt was significantly larger than expected, due to the interest that had accrued while studying. I am proud that Labour has already reduced the immense burden of tertiary education costs for students by introducing a fairer loan scheme, freezing fees, and increasing access to allowances.

Access to quality education and training is a key priority for this Government, and I acknowledge the excellent work done by my colleague the Hon Steve Maharey in this area. To this end, the policy I am most proud of is the Modern Apprenticeships scheme. It is changing the lives and futures of more than 3,000 young New Zealanders, and filling the skills gaps that threaten to choke economic growth. The commitment to increase this number to 6,000 by the end of the year is a fundamentally important policy initiative for young New Zealanders.

I became involved in Young Labour, the youth wing of the Labour Party, around this time as well. I stayed in the organisation until 2000. During that time I became acquainted with such political heavyweights as Darren Hughes. I have no doubt that I would not be where I am today, were it not for the experienced networks and friends that Young Labour brought me.

I currently reside in Lower Hutt, having moved to Petone in 2001. In that same year I became involved in the Hutt 20/20 local body campaign and was elected to the Petone Community Board. The Petone Community Board is a never-a-dull-moment affair, as I am sure my community board colleague Murray Smith would agree. Anyone who thinks that local government politics is boring has obviously never been to one of our meetings. The meetings are sometimes a tad long—Murray—but obviously the Petone Community Board is the magical portal into this place, so I will not complain.

I do wish that local government matters were subject to the same public scrutiny as central government politics. Some of the most important decisions concerning our environment are made at local government level, and in many cases these decisions are being made by people with extraordinarily scary agendas, in my opinion.

It is time to swing the lens of the microscope that focuses so intently on central government over to local government once in a while. After all, it is also publicly elected and just as publicly accountable.

It has not been the easiest time to be a young New Zealander. Growing up in the 1990s sucked. The politics of the right made it a particularly divisive and destructive period, and coming from somewhere like Gisborne where workers, students, and families were particularly vulnerable, it was felt even more acutely. Families at the bottom of the heap struggled to cope, and the pressures placed on those families throughout those years are now being seen in our youth offending and youth suicide statistics. It is hard to find the time to teach your children how to cope with life and all its challenges when you are quite simply not coping yourself.

New Zealand’s youth suicide rate is a national tragedy. Too many of our young people, particularly our young Māori men, are taking their own lives through anger, frustration, and despondence. I certainly do not profess to have the answer. However, consistency of message is extremely important. It is difficult to get the message across about asking for help when you need it. It is not an indication of failure or weakness, and does not make you a burden on anyone, but we have politicians attacking people for doing just that by receiving State assistance. I am proud of our social welfare system and the safety net it provides for those who need it. I believe that when it comes to providing for your family it is not only your right to receive assistance, should circumstances get you down, but also it is your responsibility to ask.

This Government is also committed to helping people make the transition into paid employment, and under this Labour-led Government we have seen the unemployment rate at a 15-year low. The hangover from the 1990s is still being felt now. Nine years of having your rights and concerns ignored by those who make the rules, has resulted in a seriously apathetic young population. More young people than ever are struggling to find their identity and to feel they have the power to control their own lives. It is one thing to be reviled, but it is far worse to be invisible. Too many of our young people feel invisible, and that is a tragedy.

In a global world it is even harder to find your feet. It is incredibly depressing to think that we live in a world where some multinational companies have more power than some Governments. It perpetuates a sense of futility. I am proud to stand here as part of a Government that understands the importance of New Zealand’s role as a member of the international community, but is not afraid to stand apart from others and take a stand where we believe it to be appropriate. New Zealand’s independent voice will not be lost in the melting pot of international politics, and this message is an important one for our rangatahi youth.

It is much easier to find your place in a global world when you have a strong sense of identity at home. This is why the work of the Labour-led Government, since 1999, in support of the arts, culture, and creative industries has been so vitally important. The arts give voice to our culture and our heritage, and embody what sets us apart from the rest of the world. Many people on the other side of the House have voiced strong opposition to the Government’s spending in this area. There is a saying about knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing, and that is particularly pertinent in this instance. With a stronger sense of cultural identity, young New Zealanders will be much better equipped to find their place in the world. An important facet is the need to have a stronger focus, at all levels of schooling, on teaching the history of our country, as a priority. While this is not a problem unique to New Zealand, the highly politicised nature of issues pertaining to Māoridom makes our particular case far more urgent. Fear is a powerful political motivator, and fuelled by ignorance it can create explosive conditions.

New Zealand is entering a challenging phase of its political development. We are told by many that we should be afraid—afraid of treaty claims, afraid of immigrants, and afraid of science. I do not want to say much on the immigration issue, except to say that Kiwis enjoy the freedom to go and work or play in just about any country in the world that takes our fancy. We consider it a basic right. That cuts both ways. I welcome the diversity that comes with the arrival of new cultures in Aotearoa and I refuse to be told that I should be afraid of it.

I was at high school when the National Party was elected in 1990. It promised it would not cut weekly pay, weekend pay, or pay received for overtime. As it turned out, that was one of the first things to go. The introduction of the Employment Contracts Act in 1991 was one of the darkest days in the history of New Zealand’s industrial relations. I remember at the time that I had an after-school and weekend job working for a less-than-model employer. He actually danced around our workplace when the law was passed. Before the Governor-General’s signature was even dry on the new legislation, he had cut penal rates and adopted what would soon become the signature “take it or leave it” stance on contract negotiations. Although a lot of what he did operated outside the law, even under the Employment Contracts Act, he often commented that the huge shift of power towards the employer, which was embodied in the Employment Contracts Act, was indicative of a change in culture in industrial relations and that justified his actions.

That experience precipitated my first contact as an employee with a union. I have been a strong advocate of unions ever since. The 1990s were an exceptionally difficult time for the union movement. A generation of young people entered the workforce under the shadow of the Employment Contracts Act, and, tragically, that became the norm. Trying to organise workers to stand up for themselves was difficult, when in many workplaces rocking the boat or wearing your union colours on your sleeve could perceivably result in missing out on promotions or being labelled a troublemaker. More and more workers were casualised, as employers saw the opportunity to save money by having a flexible workforce, and work conditions decreased until most companies had contracts that, for the worker at the bottom of the heap, merely reflected what was required by law. The mantra: “If you don’t like it there are 10 others lined up outside who would jump at the opportunity” reverberated around the workplaces of our nation. Most astonishing of all is that some parties would have us go back to this situation.

The introduction of the Employment Relations Act in 2000 heralded a new era in employment law. According to opponents the world was going to end and unions would run wild across the country, crippling every industry with expensive strikes. But, after all, unionised workers are just reasonable people who, collectively, simply wish to be paid fairly for the work they do and be able to support themselves and their families with dignity. It strikes me as only fair that if a company can have a whole team of lawyers looking after its human resource interests, without anyone raising an eyebrow, then I should be allowed one union organiser.

This Government has done much to improve the working conditions and rights of workers in New Zealand. It seems to me that if you want to talk about family-friendly policies, then ensuring your loved ones can be reasonably expected to return home each night would be at the top of my list. There is no doubt that New Zealand families are under greater strain than in previous times. Longer working hours and less career stability no doubt lead to high stress levels and strained personal relations, which impact negatively on family dynamics.

In my short working-career I have worked in both the private and public sector science industries. When I decided to study science I never envisaged it would become such a controversial area. It is true that the science community has never really had to be that accountable to the public before, but I do not believe that that is simply because it has not wanted to. I have taken great umbrage at the portrayal of scientists as unscrupulous and unethical. Many of these men and women have spent their working lives on research and technology that they believe will make a difference in their field. I am sure we all partake of scientific discoveries on a regular basis and silently thank the individuals or groups whose hard work and innovation have made our lives that little bit easier.

During the election campaign I found the genetic engineering debate extremely frustrating. There was a tendency on both sides to tell only half the story, which meant that meaningful debate was impossible. You had to be for or against with no shades of in-between. I believe there will be developments in gene technology that will be of hugely positive benefit, just as I have no doubt there will be those that I would not touch with a bargepole. I believe the Government’s decision to proceed with caution, following the advice of the royal commission, is the sensible thing to do. We stand to improve hugely the health of our people, our biodiversity, and our environment; and we deserve that choice.

There are people whom I wish to acknowledge. To Graham and Janette Kelly, I wish you every happiness in your new life. Graham played an important role in the extremely difficult part of our party’s history, and I will not forget what he went through. To my friends, many of whom are here today, I thank you for your support and for not thinking I was a total loser for being so politically active. To Phil and “Goff office”, thank you for your friendship and camaraderie over the last year. It has been a pleasure working with you all, and at least my food supplies are now safe from Phil’s late-night forays around the office. To Labour Party members the length and breadth of Aotearoa, particularly my Petone posse and the Gisborne gang, especially Pat and Sue who are here tonight, thank you for the faith you have shown in me. It is your hard-working commitment that keeps this proud organisation strong. To my Labour colleagues, I look forward to working with you all, and especially acknowledge the support you continue to give to the youth sector of our party.

To my family and whānau in this House—Bill Gudgeon, David Cunliffe, Doug Woolerton, and my cuzzie from the coast, Parekura—I am proud to serve alongside you. To our Prime Minister, the wonderful Helen Clark, you have always supported the development of younger members of our party, and I stand here as a testament to your faith in the youth of our organisation.

To my family and whānau, you have made me what I am, for better or worse. To my grandparents who could not be here in body, Nanny and Papa, Grandpa, and Maudey, I know you are with me in spirit. To my brother and sister, Turei and Erin, this means I am officially the best! To my dad, John, thank you for all your love and support, and can I just reiterate you are still under strict media embargo. To my mother, hereinafter known as Janet, I would not be standing here today if it were not for the respect I have for you as a parliamentarian, a mother, and a friend. Just taihoa with the embarrassing stories and we will get on just fine. To my extremely tolerant Kelvin, who does not even like politics, thank you for being my rock in what has been a roller coaster of a year. Kia ora mai koutou katoa.

Waiata.

Sitting suspended from 6 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.