Address to Her Excellency the Governor-General

I move, That a respectful Address be presented to Her Excellency the Governor-General to mark the 150th anniversary today of the first sitting of this House. I welcome the many former members of Parliament in attendance in the Chamber today. I see several former Speakers who may be full of a little advice in this least controversial of sittings.

Mr Speaker, can I begin by congratulating you, the Office of the Clerk, and Parliamentary Service for the steps that you have jointly taken to see that the 150th anniversary of the first sitting of the House is appropriately recognised. The most important of those steps, in my view, has been the commissioning of an official history of the House. The new work, by historian John Martin, records the workings of this Chamber from the time it was first convened in 1854.

In the 150 years that followed, Parliament has both contributed to and itself reflected the changes that have taken place in our nation at large. From the 1850s the House established ways of working, many of which have endured to the present day. Much was modelled on the procedures of the British House of Commons, and the similarities can be seen, from the pomp and ceremony of the opening through to the Standing Orders and even the institution of Bellamy’s, which, I see, came into existence in the 1860s.

It is well known that New Zealand led the world in 1893 by being the first country where women won the right to vote. But the holding of parliamentary elections in 1853 was also novel for the world at that time. When the Deputy Governor, Lieutenant-Colonel Wynyard, delivered the first Speech from the Throne in 1854 he described the new House of Representatives as “an experiment in constitutional government”. John Martin, our parliamentary historian, agrees that that was an accurate description because, as he says: “New Zealand parliamentary democracy was one of the earliest colonial examples.”

History records that what we gained early in this country was also very durable. Our country was one of the few in the world that was able to maintain democratic Government throughout the very turbulent 20th century. From these few islands of relative stability, our people went forth in the Second World War to Europe to fight against fascism and see democracy restored there. Around the walls of this Chamber, the engagements of our forces in two world wars are recorded. Members of Parliament themselves volunteered for military service in World War II, and several died overseas on that service.

My lifetime has spanned a little over one-third of the history of the New Zealand Parliament, and my earliest recollections of it are of an institution that was taken very seriously and whose members were generally looked up to. Of course, Parliament was rather more distant from our daily lives during my 1950s childhood than it is today. It met less often, with the sittings normally confined to the winter months when there was less activity on the farms from which many members came. In an age when cars were slow, roads were poor, and air travel was a luxury, and before the coming of television, the public saw relatively little of its politicians. From the time of the first Labour Government, however, the public was able to hear the daily proceedings of Parliament broadcast on radio. My first memories of Parliament are indeed of that static, crackling sound in the living room in the evenings when Parliament was sitting and my father was listening.

When I first ran for election to Parliament, in 1981, women MPs were somewhat rare, and the selection of women candidates was still considered somewhat risky, particularly for marginal seats. The greatest number ever elected to a Parliament had been four. In 1981 the number doubled to eight, and then kept going up. There was a quantum leap in the number of women with the introduction of MMP, from around 20 percent of all members to 30 percent. Unfortunately the number seems to have plateaued there, leaving women still significantly under-represented in the House.

However, Parliaments, particularly since 1996, have reflected the diversity of New Zealand’s population better than in the past. Not only are there many more women but also the number of Māori members closely reflects the proportion of Māori in the population. In addition, the election of MPs from the Pasifika and Asian communities adds to the ability of the House to represent the diversity that is New Zealand today.

Significant changes to Parliament’s Standing Orders and organisation have been made on two occasions since my election here. The first set of changes came in 1985, when the Rt Hon Geoffrey Palmer was Leader of the House. Then, the Legislative Department was abolished and replaced by the Parliamentary Service. The select committee system was overhauled and the committees were given wide terms of reference, enabling them to go beyond scrutinising estimates, annual reports, and legislation to conducting inquiries. As the chair of the Foreign Affairs and Defence Committee at the time, I found that gave new life to a committee whose predecessors had never had much legislation to occupy their time. Our committee conducted a wide-ranging inquiry into New Zealand’s relations with China and a shorter one into relations with Canada. The committee has continued with such inquiries to this day. Prior to 1984 it was somewhat rare for select committees to sit outside Wellington. From the time of the Palmer reforms the committees began to travel, to ensure that the parliamentary process was much more accessible to the public.

In my view, the New Zealand Parliament’s select committee system is one of the most progressive in the world. Almost all bills go to committees, and all Government spending and operations can be thoroughly scrutinised there. Since MMP came, Governments cannot necessarily count on a majority in select committees, and in this term the number of committees chaired by non-Government MPs has increased further.

In practice, also, MMP means that a Government cannot take for granted a majority in this Chamber. For a minority Government, that means majorities must be sought on a case by case basis for legislation, and confidence and supply arrangements must also be nurtured.

Another major change made in Geoffrey Palmer’s time was to the House timetable so that it sat more regularly throughout the year. In my first year here, in 1982, Parliament sat for 6 weeks from the beginning of April, then adjourned until late July. It then sat every single week until just before Christmas. When the House went into urgency it sat throughout the night, often for days on end. Parliament also sat on Fridays until 1 o’clock. The Palmer reforms saw the House convene in February with regular, short recesses scheduled through the year, and few lamented the passing of the Friday morning sitting.

More changes to the Standing Orders came with MMP, to cope with the increased numbers of parties. The speaking times in Parliament, and places on select committees, had to be fairly apportioned. Pairs were dispensed with, changes were made to the legislative process, and the Business Committee was established to bring all parties into the loop on the running of the House. Prior to that, the timetable for Government business tended to be a fairly tightly guarded secret.

Over the years the services available to MPs have steadily improved. Going back 30 years or so, the secretarial support was very limited, and I know there will be members with us in the Chamber today who will recall writing their own correspondence by hand.

The history of the House records that debate has always been robust, and that drama and the Chamber go together. In the early days ministries did not last long at all. Indeed, John Martin records that at each of the five short sessions between 1861 and 1965, a ministry was defeated or resigned.

Over 150 years our House has developed strong and enduring traditions, but it has also been able to move with the times, adopting new technologies and adapting its procedures for the new demands of MMP. The life of a member has gone from being a part-time winter season pursuit to being a demanding profession that consumes all the time a member can give it.

It is worth acknowledging, in conclusion, that the Parliament of this small country has chalked up some remarkable achievements. Legislation passed here was world-leading in respect of women’s suffrage, representation of indigenous people, workers’ rights, social security, and nuclear disarmament. May this Parliament continue to serve the public interest by reflecting the people’s will over the next 150 years as it has done over its first one and a half centuries.

I second the motion that a respectful address be presented to Her Excellency the Governor-General to mark the 150th anniversary today of the first sitting of this House. I also endorse the comments of the Prime Minister welcoming our guests and congratulating you, Mr Speaker, on organising this very important occasion. In so doing, may I say how proud I am to speak here today at the celebration of this 150th anniversary of our Parliament.

For a century and a half New Zealanders have had a robust regard for democracy. First we were a colony, then after 1907 a Dominion, and now an independent nation that chooses to recognise the Queen as our head of State. Throughout nearly all of our history, parliamentary democracy has been at the core of our existence. Our legislature is, in fact, one of the oldest in the world, and that is surely a great achievement in a country that still thinks of itself as comparatively young. However, contrary to much popular belief, we were not a democratic entity from the beginning. In fact, we were nearer to a dictatorship for the first 14 years after the treaty. Representative government was established here only after agitation by our forebears and the passage of the New Zealand Constitution Act through the British Parliament in 1852.

The first General Assembly that met on 24 May 1854 tried its members’ patience. Henry Sewell, who would become the first Premier under responsible government, recalled the trip to Auckland in his diary: “The steamer from Christchurch, via Wellington, Nelson, and New Plymouth, took 2 weeks because it took time to round up the new members for the final leg of the journey. The boarding houses en route were foul. Everyone on board was sick. When they got to the Manukau Heads, there was no pilot to help them across the bar. Then when they reached Onehunga, the new members had to wade ashore over hard stones, with bare feet.”

The first meeting of the General Assembly was not much better. There was no precedent to guide members, and Sewell recalled that Wakefield went around the place “like a stockman driving wild cattle”. We have come a long way since then—I think. Fewer than 6,000 registered voters were involved in that first election, and it took place over several weeks. The electorate of Akaroa contained only 45 registered voters. There were only 37 members of the General Assembly.

Since 1854 our parliamentary democracy has had the occasional small scandal. Seven of the 12 Auckland members elected in 1855 had petitions alleging bribery brought against them, and similar accusations were heard well into the 20th century. In 1923 efforts were made to nullify Sir James Parr’s election for Auckland Suburbs. The accusation against Parr was that at a women’s meeting in Glen Eden he had served strawberries and cream.

It is appropriate to reflect today on the great New Zealanders who have stood in this House over the last 150 years. Our first true populist was Richard John Seddon, known by his fans as “old leather lungs”. He was a vigorous campaigner, with an approach that was unique at the time. He stomped the country in the weeks before polling day giving energetic speeches, described by some as 3-hour harangues. Seddon’s son claimed that on one occasion he managed 14 speeches and ate six dinners in one day. No wonder his heart eventually gave out, soon after his greatest electoral triumph in 1905.

This House has also had some distinguished Māori leaders, none greater perhaps than Sir Apirana Ngata. He entered Parliament in 1905 as the member for Eastern Māori. He was to hold that seat for 38 years. He became the father of the House, and by all accounts was a superb parliamentarian. His goal was the development of Māori land into economically viable and properly utilised units. He courted controversy, and resigned his Cabinet position in 1934 after an inquiry. It is ironic perhaps that it was a Māori who was the last Minister to accept blame personally for departmental failings, and to resign in the best Westminster tradition.

In the second half of the 20th century, the man who dominated New Zealand’s Parliament was Sir Keith Holyoake. He entered Parliament in 1932 as the youngest member, and left in 1977—45 years’ later—as its oldest. He was Prime Minister for 12 years.

Today we should also reflect on the achievements of our democracy over the last 150 years. We have been world leaders in the democratisation of our institutions. By the beginning of the 20th century, we had one of the broadest electoral franchises in the world. Universal male suffrage came in 1879 for Europeans, and even earlier for Māori in 1867. Universal female suffrage came in 1893, as a result of pressure from a group of women led by Kate Sheppard, whose portrait I was delighted to put on our $10 banknotes exactly 100 years’ later. We beat Australia, Canada, the US, and the UK, yet surprisingly we were slow to elect women to Parliament. It was not legal for women to be members of Parliament until 1919; and the first woman to enter this House did so in 1933.

Electoral reform did not stop there, of course. Two more major developments would occur before we reached our position today. The first of these was the abolition of the Upper House in 1950. Our Parliament became unicameral, one of only a tiny number in the world to be so. The second, and in some ways more substantial change, was the move to MMP, agreed to in a referendum in 1993. MMP was meant to be fairer and more representative. Three elections later, it has to be said, the success of the new system has yet to be established. Its ability to deliver stable Government is not at all clear.

We are one of the most enduring democracies in the world. We have every right to be proud of that fact. More impressive, I believe, is that we have seen very little corruption by world standards, and the freedom index ranks New Zealand highly. As long as we honour the values forming the cornerstones of our parliamentary system—freedom, justice, and equal rights—future generations will be celebrating such anniversaries as today’s for centuries to come.

I take this opportunity to thank the people of Tauranga, and indeed of New Zealand, for my party, New Zealand First, and myself to have the privilege of being here on this great day. This is a country with a proud tradition of 150 years of continuous and stable parliamentary democracy, and I do not believe there are more than seven other countries that can make that claim. That has been achieved through our ability to change and adapt to the demands of our evolving nation, and through our sometimes-troubled commitment to the institutions of Parliament and what they represent.

Since Parliament’s inception in 1854 it has been transformed and modified, often proudly leading the world in our understanding of both the nature of its role and, more important, of the role of those who should and could participate. From the creation of the Māori seats in 1867, to the introduction of universal suffrage in 1893, and through to the advent of MMP in 1996, it is worth noting that it was New Zealand—ahead of most other liberal democracies—that evolved into an inclusive participatory democracy. Clearly, this country marked its pathway of self-determination when it resisted the temptation to join the Australian colonies as they federated in 1901. As we moved from colonial to dominion status in 1907, and finally shed the apron strings from Britain with the adoption of the Statute of Westminster in 1947, we displayed a cautious but deliberate path towards independence. Like an adolescent approaching adulthood, New Zealand forged its own identity and character, and Parliament was central to that process.

Parliament in New Zealand was a forum where great and pressing issues were debated, and a forum in which the people’s representatives gathered to engage in decision making for future generations. As a consequence, this country had great periods when we led the world. It is therefore sometimes sad, when one reflects on that given role of Parliament—the role it has played historically in shaping New Zealand’s future—that a poignant vacuum or void has developed in our once great institution. When one peruses the role of Parliaments in other jurisdictions, one finds that where we once led the world we now, unfortunately, sometimes watch with envy. Where other Parliaments and Congresses hold great debates, in which elected representatives utilise all the skills of political rhetoric and intellect garnered through years of crafting and experience, we in New Zealand too often revert to predetermined party political positions—but for which I do not blame any particular party.

It is regrettable, for example, that on the two great issues confronting New Zealand today—our economic future and race relations—rather than use Parliament as our forum, too often we have conducted the debate outside in other forums and through the media. Sometimes, we really should ask ourselves this question: when was the last great debate in this House on the economy or on race relations, which used words that inspired and uplifted, and galvanised and stimulated a nation to action? This is a country built on sound values and on tolerance. It is no coincidence that when the hīkoi on the foreshore and seabed arrived at Parliament earlier this month—whatever one’s views might be—one of the defining features of the march was the lack of violence, confrontation, and unrest. There was no need for the water cannons and riot police that often feature in the protests of other Parliaments.

We in this House should not be afraid to shed our ideological blinkers. Ideology is, after all, the outworn language of the 20th and last century. Having entered the 21st century we must reach for a new language—a language that, in the tradition of our forebears, will allow us to grapple effectively with the issues we confront today.

We must face facts. We risk becoming the first country in 50 years to fall from First World status to Third World status—or so stated the very respected English publication, The Economist, just 3 short years ago. We will not have Australia talking to us about economic union. No, sir! Australia will be negotiating how much aid it will need to send our way each year. What we are saying is that those issues will not be solved through blind ideology. New Zealand, though, is sadly today witnessing an escalating commitment to defend that failed course of economic action. Meanwhile, we are watching as our gross domestic product per capita is compared with other developed nations that, a long time back, were way below us. We are therefore still continuing to slide.

We must be confident in our ability to find solutions for these problems, as our forebears in this Parliament once did—not from universities, but from their own experience and practical understanding of life. We are a nation of small and medium-sized businesses that must export to expand, and in order to expand the need for our exports to be trebled is an expedient. Yet the debates of this House are often far too constrained by the parameters and rules that bind ideological thinking.

In the past, one of the things that buttressed New Zealand against the tide of rapidly globalising events was our historical ability to set aside partisan views on issues of national importance, in order to reach a consensus across this Chamber about what was best for New Zealand. The fruits of the great debates of the past were to be found in the agreed positions we presented to the world. Although there were always differences of opinion on the fringes of social issues, there was always a consensus on the important issues facing our economy, and the defence of our borders and traditions.

Today this fundamental aspect of national development is, sadly, perhaps too often missing from this House. Other countries understand the value of the simple maxim: there is a need for cross-party support and consensus when addressing major economic and security issues. Other nations debate the details, whilst we continue to debate the fundamentals. Any consensus on those issues was shattered, I believe, in the 1980s and has never been rebuilt. With our nation crying out for consensus on a national savings scheme, a national export strategy, or a national health strategy—to list but three—we in this House too often instinctively revert to our partisan ways. Those fundamentals of economic strength, and their most prominent social dividend, will only take root when we return to the tradition of those who preceded us in this House, and when we work towards a national consensus. We see a semblance of this in the work of our select committees. We exhibit strength, I believe, to the rest of the world and to our citizens when we put aside partisan views and do what is best for the New Zealand people.

So let us leave the ideological shackles that have bound us in the 20th century or, at the end of it, to the 20th century. In this century let us engage in real debate about the genuine issues confronting our nation. Let us not feel constrained and limited by the ideas of the past. Let us be creative. Let us show ingenuity, lateral thinking, and a dedication to the best outcome for all New Zealanders, because our forebears blazed a trail for us in creating a forum for the free exchange of ideas. In two great passages of our history we led the world in wealth creation and the disbursement of equity and fairness across our population, in a way no other nation has been able to achieve before or since. That is part of our noble tradition, so let us re-embrace it. Let Parliament again become a forum for great debates, which shapes a nation’s great future as it shaped a once-great past.

💬 Mr SPEAKER: The Green co-leaders are splitting their speeches.

He mihi aroha, ki a koutou katoa. Loving greetings to all. Today is a time for celebration. It is also a time to reflect on how far we have come and how far we still have to go. Along with my fellow Green MPs, I am honoured to be a member of this House. We are here only because members of the public voted for us and our parties; that is the essence of representative democracy. New Zealand is fortunate to have an electoral system that so fairly and accurately reflects the wishes of those voters.

I would, of course, say that as one of the campaigners for MMP in the 1980s and 1990s, but we were not the first advocates of electoral reform. That honour goes to Sir John Hall, also an advocate of women’s suffrage, who attempted to introduce the single transferable vote system for parliamentary elections in 1887. But we succeeded and we have all the more reason to celebrate as a result. If one looks around this House, we see that—thanks to MMP—the make-up of today’s Parliament more closely resembles the people we are here to represent than at any time in our history. We come from a wide range of backgrounds and occupations; women MPs make up almost 30 percent of the House; the proportion of Māori members closely reflects the proportion of Māori citizens; we have MPs of Pacific and Asian descent; and, last but not least, we cover the political spectrum from ACT to the Greens.

That was not the case when the first 37 MPs took their seats 150 years ago—they were all men, they were all Pākehā, and they were mostly from the wealthy, educated elite. This House was deliberately set up as a settler Parliament. Not only were women excluded from standing and voting, but virtually all Māori were too. Only males aged 21 or older who owned, leased, or rented a freehold estate or dwelling above a specified value were enfranchised under the New Zealand Constitution Act 1852.

This meant that Māori had little influence and no voice of their own in Parliament, despite being clearly the majority of the population and owning communally over three-quarters of the country. In the last decade, the number of Māori MPs has more than doubled, due both to party lists and to the fact that the number of Māori seats is now determined on the same basis as the general seats. Although women did not win the right to vote until 1893, apparently a number of wives dressed in their drunk husbands’ clothes and voted in 1855—an excellent example of non-violent, direct action.

Voting is one thing—standing is another. As we know, it took until 1919 for women to win the right to stand, and until 1933 for Elizabeth McCombs to become the first woman MP. Altogether, 44 women and 1,171 men were elected during the first-past-the-post era. In particular, MMP and party lists are helping to redress that imbalance. Today, New Zealand is ranked 16th in the world, up from 30th under first past the post. We can and did do better—our 1999 Parliament was ranked 8th. We can and must do better in many other respects if this institution is to be relevant in the 21st century.

A real concern is the declining turnout at elections. Although MMP temporarily reversed this, turnout is now down to 77 percent of enrolled voters. It could be worse yet, with one poll revealing that 37 percent of 18 to 29-year-olds did not vote at all in 2002. Is that because there are too few young candidates standing, and, therefore, to vote for? Are both those situations because there is virtually no civics education in our schools? Is it because young people do not see us tackling the big issues that concern them, such as corporate globalisation, environmental destruction, wars, and poverty? Or is it because the behaviour in this place is so appalling at times that we have turned them off politics completely?

Two years ago, Wellington High School students said in a report on Parliament that MPs legislate against violence in the community, yet accept as normal a level of unpleasantness, aggression, and verbal abuse in Parliament that would not be tolerated in a classroom, a playground, a workplace, or at home. Have we improved our behaviour? No. Should we? Yes. I believe that Parliament should also claim the right to decide which international treaties New Zealand signs, by abolishing the Crown prerogative. We need to properly recognise the constitutional position of Māori under Te Tiriti o Waitangi, and we need to debate the relevance of our remaining constitutional ties with mother England. Our democracy has evolved considerably over the last 150 years. We must continue that process for this House to serve the needs of present and future generations.

I begin by celebrating a privilege that is increasingly rare in this world: the right to express our views, very publicly and in large numbers, without being shot or imprisoned. A number of times—most recently, as I walked with the hīkoi—I have reflected on how, in many countries, we would have been waiting for the army to open fire. We must guard those civil liberties jealously in a time when the war on terrorism may well start to erode them.

Several members have expressed our great pride at being the first nation where women won the right to vote. But have we really changed the lives of women outside this House? Women are still far from having pay equity, still suffer horrendous domestic violence, and are expected to bear the brunt of child rearing and housework, while still contributing to the family income. A few of us have become part of the elite by entering this place, but for the many, life goes on much as it always has gone on.

As Rod Donald has said, under the old two-party system many strands of society were not represented in Parliament. It was not until 1996 that Green members entered the House, but the political movement we represent has a much older history. Our predecessor, the Values Party, was formed to contest elections and raise Green issues. It gained over 5 percent of the vote, but it took 24 years until MMP was introduced and the first Green members were elected.

One hundred and fifty years ago, Parliament reflected a young colony that saw the environment as hostile and attacked it with chainsaw and digger, to tame it for human needs. In those 150 years, most of our indigenous forest has been logged or burned—mainly burned, actually—and 90 percent of our wetlands has been drained. Many birds have become extinct and others are threatened, having been replaced by a huge number of pests and weeds that were deliberately introduced because they reminded someone of home.

Waterways were used as sewers for industry even as late as 1954, when the Tasman Pulp and Paper Enabling Act specifically required that all effluent from the new Kawerau paper mill would be discharged into the Tarawera River. Hansard shows there was debate about the effects of that on farmers downstream who used the river for stock watering, but the discharges were described as “so slight as to be almost unnoticeable.” The exemption of the company from prosecution or individual action for damages was regarded as necessary in case “some crank gets a bee in his bonnet and brings an action for pollution.” That is the river that has widely been known as the “black drain”, with the most serious dioxin contamination of any water body in New Zealand. Amazingly, that legislation stayed in force until the passing of the Resource Management Act in 1991, and some of the effect of it was carried on, even then, under the “exceptional circumstances” clause in that Act.

But even in the 19th century, there were some parliamentarians who were aware of the harm that was accumulating. An interesting example as early as 1874 was Sir Julius Vogel, until then a keen supporter of heroic rates of colonial expansion, who had a road to Damascus experience while visiting the South Island and introduced the Forests Bill to establish and manage State forests. Speaking to the second reading, he said: “The question involved in this forests matter is of something for New Zealand to cling to for generations; to shape its future; to decide its climate, its adaptability for settlement, its commercial value, its beauty, its healthfulness, and its pleasure-bestowing qualities.” There was a storm of opposition from those who wanted to carry on what the Honourable O’Neill described as “reckless and wanton destruction” for personal gain, but Vogel was supported by members like Stafford, Gillies, and Wood, and carried the day. Perhaps if more people had shared his vision, we would today have a thriving timber industry of sustainably managed native forests, as well as representative areas protected from all human interference. Sadly, with clear-felling continuing until the 21st century, that opportunity has gone, and it has taken a huge public fight to protect the last remnants of our publicly-owned native forests in perpetuity.

We have still not completely outgrown our colonial frontier “develop or bust” mindset. It is critically urgent now that we grow into a new mindset of sustainable management and conservation. Parliament is not leading that transition. It is far behind many groups in the community—even behind some groups in business. The Greens are working for the day when this House takes a lead on this most urgent problem of our time.

It is indeed fitting that we mark the 150th anniversary of our Parliament. It is a significant milestone for we, the parliamentarians, and for the people whom we represent. It is made more so by the fact that, while we are a young country, we are one of the world’s oldest Parliaments, which I think is an indication that parliamentary democracy is actually very fragile and is something that we all have to work to preserve.

In human history, 150 years is two lifetimes. Indeed, when I was first elected, Sir Keith Holyoake was a member of this House, and this Parliament was only 78 years old when he was first elected. I myself have served almost 20 percent of the length of time our Parliament has been in existence. When I arrived in 1975, there were just three women MPs and six Māori members of Parliament, and no other ethnic group was represented. We were a Parliament of white, middle-aged males—a tribe to which I am very proud to belong but which is not the majority, then or now. Now, thanks to MMP, we have over 30 women MPs—depending how one counts—at least 18 Māori, three Pacific Islanders, two Asians, and the rest of us. We are now truly a House of Representatives.

In the days of first-past-the-post elections, the two parties held many ritualistic debates.

What was most interesting though was what we did not debate. If the two parties did not want to discuss an issue, no matter how important it might be, it simply was not discussed on the floor of this House. In my first 15 years, we held only two debates—or possibly only one—on foreign affairs. Now, thanks to MMP and the presence of third parties, no issue of importance to the electorate is ignored, and if there is a viewpoint out there in the community, there is now some party in Parliament to represent it.

We have made much progress. When I was first elected, legislation often did not go to any select committee. Select committees did not examine departmental estimates. One of the committees I was appointed to 29 years ago met once to elect the chairman. When I made a submission to the Standing Orders Committee, that committees ought to be reorganised along the basis that they are now, it was rejected as totally impractical. Then in 1985, that submission was implemented. I believe that our select committee process, which enables the public to make submissions on legislation, is the best in the Commonwealth. Yet despite those reforms, and apparent progress, there is no doubt that the power of our Parliament is in decline. There are a number of threats, and one of those threats is the power of unelected judges to make judge-made law, but that is a subject for another day. A bigger threat to Parliament and democracy comes from the unfettered power of Prime Ministers to turn back-benchers—the guardians of parliamentary democracy—into Ministers.

We all know that a country of 4 million people does not need 28 Ministers. Thanks in part to privatisation, which I could take credit for, if one likes, we have reduced the size of Government, yet the number of Ministers continues to grow. Prime Ministers create Ministers in order to dominate, first, their own party caucuses, and then this House. It is a power play to dominate this House, and it has been very successful. There are so many Ministers, that any MP of any ability who manages to survive three Parliaments is certain to be made a Minister. To increase their power, Prime Ministers have waved the prospect of office before MPs. The result is that the executive has slowly stripped the rights of members and hobbled their ability to represent rigorously the people we are elected to argue on behalf of.

Parliament is not the Government. We have just three roles—to legislate; to be a check on the executive; and to be a final forum for grievances by the petition process. The most important function is to be a check on the executive. Yet, over time, the paramount role of our Parliament has been frustrated and rendered largely ineffective. Through successive changes to the Standing Orders we have allowed the executive to take away our principled right, which is our right to speak in this Chamber, by imposing savage time limits on speaking and a guillotine on most debates. Back-benchers have virtually lost the right to speak in this House. I calculate that 20 of the current back-benchers will speak in Parliament this year for fewer than 30 minutes. Over 40 members of Parliament will not give a speech of more than 5 minutes duration this year. I defy anyone to give a proper analysis of, let us say, the Resource Management Act, in just 5 minutes. It cannot be done.

When I was first a member of Parliament, as a back-bencher I was guaranteed every year the right to make one 30-minute speech and another 20-minute speech on the topic of my choice. I can recall one evening actually giving three 20-minute speeches. It is not in the Standing Orders—

💬 Hon Jim Anderton: That’s why we changed it.

Maybe so. I understand I have the dubious honour of having the most words in our Hansard in the last 150 years. I remind the House that the world’s most powerful Parliament, the United States Senate, still has unlimited speaking time. We, as members of Parliament, should be very reluctant to give up our right as members of Parliament to speak in this House on a topic of our choice. This House can only regain its role to be a real check on the executive by limiting the number of MPs who can be Ministers. We all know that a Cabinet of 12 would be more than enough. The first wartime Cabinet in the Second World War—perhaps the biggest challenge this House has had to face—comprised only eight Ministers. A Cabinet of 12 Ministers would have to rely on persuasion rather than the hammer of collective Cabinet responsibility to get its programme passed by this House. Twenty-eight Ministers, with seven Māori affairs Ministers, is not just a huge waste of taxpayers’ resources; it is a threat to parliamentary democracy. If we want to have a strong Parliament that will last another 150 years, then we MPs must restrict our own ambitions and place a limit on the size of the executive. It is Parliament’s back-benchers who are the watchdogs of parliamentary democracy. If the present trend continues we will cease to be watchdogs and find ourselves merely lapdogs. That would be a tragedy for Parliament and the people who place their trust in us, who see us as their last protection from the unfettered power of an untrammelled executive, when we have no written constitution. We are the watchdogs. We must limit the size of the executive. We must strengthen the power of the back bench. Indeed, I believe in that so much I am proposing to move there, and by doing so we will be able to ensure that this Parliament has a strong role for the next 150 years.

I want to begin by acknowledging the service of all those who have served in this Parliament, either as members or as officials of it over the last 150 years, and particularly those former members and former staff colleagues who are here today to celebrate this important milestone in the life of this Parliament and the life of this country.

It is a very humbling experience to stand in this Parliament today and appreciate that it was in this very Chamber that Richard John Seddon became our first populist leader and bestrode the political landscape like the colossus of his time that he was. It was in this Chamber, not far from where I am standing now, that Michael Joseph Savage and Walter Nash laid the foundations of the welfare State in the 1930s. It was in this Chamber that that great parliamentarian, Sir Keith Holyoake, made his mark over almost 5 decades. Many of the legends we have grown up with as being the founding fathers—and they were, in the main, fathers—of our political system made their reputation in this very Chamber.

In my time in this Chamber, I remember many classic members and many classic occasions. I particularly recall Sir Gerard Wall sitting where you are now, Mr Speaker, and achieving the rare milestone of being able to eject both the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition by 4 minutes past 2 one Tuesday afternoon. I recall Sir Robert Muldoon in his later years, when he was still the most devastating 5-minute debater in this Parliament.

What we are about today is recalling and respecting the tradition established over 150 years, and the contribution of so many men and women who have preceded us as members of this Chamber. But this is an occasion that is bigger than just a celebration of the Parliament’s 150th anniversary. We cannot become captured by events to the extent that we do not look out beyond those and contemplate their relevance to our wider nation.

This Parliament is the cradle of our democracy. Yet I think our democracy is something that we far too often take for granted. Last week I was in Taiwan at the inauguration of the new president of that country, and what struck me there, in comparison to our respect for democracy, was the blatant outpouring of positive support for the fact that a new leader was being inaugurated. In New Zealand we do not have that same degree of outpouring of support and excitement when a Government changes or when new political leaders come to office, because we take our democracy so much more for granted.

All of those nations that are new to the democratic tradition cherish it, value it, nurture it, and promote it. Here we tend to think that because it has been around for 150 years, and because this is one of the oldest continuous parliaments in the world, we do not have to do anything very much to nurture, encourage, promote, or support it. Then perhaps we wonder why respect for the institution appears to wane from time to time, and that confidence in us as politicians is not all we might expect it to be. Although a lot of that is due to our own performance, a lot of it is due to the fact that we as a nation do not do enough to promote the democratic ideal, promote the concept of parliamentary democracy, and demonstrate its relevance to the lives of every single New Zealander.

As we celebrate 150 years of parliamentary Government today, we ought to be reflecting on how we can take the relevance and the message of that ideal out to the public, so many of whom, over a wide range of issues, feel disenfranchised. It is of no relevance to them to say that this is one of the longest-serving and most continuous parliaments in the world. It is of no relevance to them to recount the stories of old that many of us have learnt of the annals of this Chamber, and that many of us like to recount to rotary clubs and others. What our people are seeking from us is an affirmation of our democracy, and a commitment to making it work in their interests. That is the challenge confronting this Parliament as it embarks upon its second sesquicentenary.

I think that one of the issues we therefore have to give real consideration to as we embark upon that next 150-year journey—at a time, Sir, when even you will no longer be with us; and I want to acknowledge that your achievement has been a remarkable one—is how we change this institution to meet the needs of a changing nation. While there is virtue in Parliament’s tradition, and while it is appropriate that we cling to the forms and formats of the past as a guide to the future, we cannot afford to become so hidebound by them that nothing changes and Parliament and our constitution remain caught in a time warp that simply reconfirms for many how out of touch we are.

I think therefore that it is appropriate that in the wider community at the moment we are starting to embark upon a broad debate about the future of our constitution, about the role of our Parliament, about where the Treaty of Waitangi fits, about the relevance of our institutions, about the relationships between our executive, our legislative, and our judicial branches, and about our status as a constitutional monarchy.

These are not issues that a mature nation ought to be afraid of or run away from. If we really believe that one of our achievements over the last 150 years has been to bring our Parliament to a state where it is pivotal and central to our democracy, and where the challenges, achievements, and progress that have been striven for and made are meaningful, then we will be bold in our approach to the future. One hundred and fifty years ago the national and international circumstances into which this organisation was born were vastly different from those we confront today. The challenge for this Parliament is to remain relevant in the future, and part of that will be the way in which we reconsider, and then amend—as necessary for the future—our constitutional arrangements to continue the vibrancy and growth of this nation.

It has been said many times that the mix of our peoples is changing. We have heard reference already this afternoon to the way representation in this Chamber is starting to reflect that mix. The next big challenge for all those New Zealanders—current and to come—is how the structure of our system of Government, and the role of our Parliament in relation to that Government, is addressed.

As we reflect upon 150 years of parliamentary achievement, we can all think about the great things and the great individuals who have been part of this Chamber; those issues where New Zealand has led the world—and we have been proud to do so—and those of our number who have made a contribution far beyond the limits of these shores. The challenge for us as we move forward, and for those who will succeed us in this Chamber, is to keep that momentum going. It is one thing to be remembered as one of the longest-serving small democracies of a parliamentary nature in the world; an even greater achievement would be to be seen always at the forefront of progress, the forefront of justice, and the forefront of democracy. I believe that is the challenge that this Parliament should pick up as it embarks upon its next 150 years.

Today is a proud day in our history, one which is cause for considerable celebration. Today the world’s longest established parliamentary democracy turns 150 years old. That description of our political system may surprise some people, and it has to be qualified by remarking that for the first 40 years of its existence it was more parliamentary than democratic—a point to which I will return in a moment. However, in my view it is a fair description of our parliamentary democracy. The day in 1893 that votes for adult women became a political reality in New Zealand was also a day on which we became the world’s first fully functioning democratic nation. In a contemporary world in which millions of people have yet to enjoy any form of responsible, pluralist parliamentary government of any description, let alone its democratic form, that is truly a record of which we should be proud.

It is also important to remind ourselves that many of the aspects of government that we now take absolutely for granted, like the secret ballot, had to be fought for against bitter opposition. Until 1882, the way an elector voted was recorded in a register that anyone could see. That opened the vulnerable to all sorts of pressures, which, for example, unscrupulous employers were not averse to exerting on their workers who insisted on voting “the wrong way”, although I am also bound to say that it went with a more colourful form of politics in which the practice of treating—that is, buying votes with free drinks—was widespread enough to need legislation outlawing it in 1858. The sorts of things it encouraged, such as bands circulating in electorates on the backs of drays, which were in the future to be illegal, give some sense of the excitement elections could engender in colonial New Zealand. What a staid lot we are by comparison today. There was even a celebrated prosecution for electoral bribery in 1876, in which the electoral agent of one candidate was accused of buying votes with drinks, although the prosecution failed when the principal witness, a barman, true to the spirit of all barmen in all ages, claimed to have heard and seen nothing.

Nor can I let this moment pass without noting some of the larger-than-life figures who have graced these benches. The doyen of these in the 19th century was probably Sir Julius Vogel. Although he deserves his reputation of being one of the most creative and forward-thinking leaders New Zealand has had, even in the time in which the line between private and public interest was less clearly drawn than it is today, he was notorious for his creative and imaginative skill in thinking up new ways to claim against his expenses. For instance, while agent general in London, in 1 year he managed to run up reimbursing costs of £6,000, which was an enormous sum in those days. Rodney Hide would have had a field day.

In the 20th century, some of the working men and women brought into Parliament by the introduction of universal suffrage also deserve to be remembered. Paddy Webb, arrested and jailed during the Blackball strike and subsequently elected to Parliament for the West Coast mining constituency, is said to have begun his maiden speech with the words: “Mr Speaker, this is not the first of His Majesty’s institutions in which I have been an inmate.” It was his Labour colleague, the irrepressible Robert Semple, who once coined the deathless dictum: “The Minister is responsible but he is not to blame.” I disagree with him, because I believe that ministerial responsibility is a key element of our parliamentary system, but sometimes, having occupied a similar hot seat, I sympathise with his feelings.

Mostly, I want to pay tribute to the generations of parliamentarians who, unheralded and unsung, have given their energies—and sometimes the better part of their lives—for over a century and a half, to making this Parliament work as the primary instrument of government in our country. In my view it is an institution we can be rightfully proud of, and it is the contribution of those people that we should be celebrating on this occasion.

I begin by congratulating you, Mr Speaker, because you have sat in this Parliament for exactly one-quarter of its entire history, and despite what has been said so far, it is almost impossible to think of this Parliament without your presence. I welcome also the presence of many former colleagues. It is good to see people like George Gair, Bob Tizard, Koro Wētere, and others here. It almost makes me feel young again to see them in the House.

The occasion of the 150th anniversary of our own institution, much changed as it is from its form and nature in 1854, gives us a chance to dwell upon the role and functions of the New Zealand Parliament. The body of men that assembled in Auckland on 24 May 1854 was, of course, not the sovereign legislature of an independent nation. It was a representative assembly that, despite the 1852 New Zealand Constitution Act, had somewhat uncertain powers and roles. Equally, of course, it was not terribly representative even at that. Apart from the obvious absence of women in either its selection or its membership, it was a colonial settlers’ Parliament. Not a single member was Māori, nor had Māori played any role in more than tiny numbers, at best, in its choice. In fact, not a single member was born in New Zealand, and this was at a time when Māori were still far more numerous than non-Māori in New Zealand.

Some of these things took a long time to change. From the perspective of the matter that I want to dwell on today, the significant point is that it took many decades for this Parliament to evolve into the sovereign body of a fully independent nation. Formally, indeed, that process was not complete until the adoption of the Statute of Westminster in 1947—some 16 years after the UK Parliament had passed it—although in practice the New Zealand Parliament had held that position for a good time before that. Thus it would now seem to be settled doctrine that New Zealand is a sovereign State in which sovereignty is exercised by Parliament as the supreme maker of law, the highest expression of the will of the governed, and the body to which the Government of the day is accountable.

There is an increasing tendency to challenge the exercise of this sovereignty. This comes not just from some radical Māori, who argue that sovereignty has never been legally acquired in New Zealand; it also comes from within the heart of New Zealand’s judiciary. Our own Chief Justice has put it in three key statements. Firstly, we have assumed the application of the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty in New Zealand—why, is not clear. Secondly, whether there are limits to the lawmaking power of the New Zealand Parliament has not been authoritatively determined, which raises the interesting question of who has the authority to determine that. Thirdly, an untrammelled freedom of Parliament does not exist.

There is interesting academic literature that can be used to back such a view—by no means all of it recent or of a radical bias—but it is not a view that I accept. In my view, we are approaching the point where Parliament may need to be more assertive in defence of its own sovereignty, not just for its own sake but also for the sake of good order and government. In our tradition the courts are not free to make new law. It is fundamental to our constitution that lawmakers are chosen by the electorate and accountable to the electorate for their decisions. MPs are accountable, and that accountability is often exercised in a fairly brutal and harsh fashion at elections. Being a member—like many of my colleagues in the fourth Labour Government—of the Vietnam War protest generation, I used to sometimes think that perhaps we should have marched down Lambton Quay after the 1990 election yelling “Hell no, we won’t go!”, but it would have had absolutely no effect on the outcome of the election.

Judges are not accountable; they are, in fact, independent, and that is essential to their role in society. Independence and accountability are two things that cannot be easily mixed. We need the judges’ impartial rulings on what the law says and how it applies in individual cases, but if they then begin to express views on what the law should be, or on what it says, they enter dangerous territory. It is dangerous not only for the case at hand but also because it means that the public begins to perceive the judiciary as politicised—even more so when decisions run counter to the original intent of the law, or regard statutes as not much more than imprecise guides to action. If, as a nation, we want to go down that track, we may have to consider the broader issues of an entrenched higher law, a clearer separation of powers in the constitution, and other constitutional issues. Our experience so far with the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act would scarcely encourage enthusiasm for such a move.

Perhaps we will engage in that debate in due course. I personally hope not, but my concern at this point is that we do not have a creeping process of eroding the sovereignty of Parliament to make laws, a process that is not discussed openly, not voted for by the people of New Zealand, and not assented to by Parliament. A half-pie Americanisation of our judicial system would serve no one in the long term, even though it might seem attractive to particular groups of litigants in the short term. I certainly hope we do not continue down that track. In a democratic society, politicians may be, and are, dismissed. Their work may be undone as a result of the popular will. Judges, on the other hand, are all but undismissible, and certainly not for the views that they hold or the judgments that they arrive at, or for cleaning up after the consequences of their own decisions. That last, ironically, remains the role of Parliament, which, however unwillingly, we are forced to carry out from time to time.

When the Supreme Court was set up, the usual culprits in terms of the opponents of this Government worked themselves into a righteous lather at the thought of a Supreme Court that, apparently, was to be dominated by radical Marxist lesbian activists. Both potential candidates, no doubt, got very excited! The truth, of course, has been somewhat different. Governments, of whatever stripe, do not favour judicial activism. They almost inevitably favour a strict constructivist approach, because it involves far fewer political or fiscal risks. Activism does not always challenge parliamentary sovereignty, but it often does. And in New Zealand fundamental questions have been raised about that sovereignty. It is almost as if there is an emerging view that sovereignty is to be shared between Parliament and the judiciary, with Parliament being the junior and less-informed partner. That is so because where Parliament’s sovereignty is questioned it is usually accompanied by the assertion or implication that it is the courts that have the final say as to the rules.

The point I make in response is not merely that this is a trend for which there is no democratic mandate, and which has never been part of the political discourse in New Zealand, but that it cannot exist as a one-sided development. It will inevitably lead to the politicisation of the process of judicial appointments and of the judiciary itself—something to be avoided. As I said, at least, we need to pause before going further down that track. And I and, I suspect, a good many of my colleagues across a wide range of political parties will stand in the middle of that track, defending our constitutional basis and an institution that has served us well as a people.

Can I also honour those who have served us before in this Parliament. A surprisingly large number of people, even those of us who have had relatively brief careers here, find ourselves looking around at a Parliament where there are very few members who were here, for instance, in 1990. I think of my intake of over 30 members of Parliament in the National Party, only four remain. But the test of whether this Parliament honours that history will be whether it does meet the needs of the future, and whether it does defend the historical aspects that have served it so well. The history of this Parliament has been a history of the development of our citizenship from our being subjects of the British Empire to becoming citizens of New Zealand, and of our movement from a colony to becoming a nation.

But the price of what we have gained by that process is eternal vigilance. Even as we congratulate ourselves today, and even as we tell stories today of the odd things that happened in the past, we have, even in the term of this Parliament, seen two examples of the executive attempting to fashion this institution to its means, and we see attacks on things that we do not realise are important until they are attacked. The first was the party-hopping legislation. A Parliament and a political party system put a high degree of emphasis on the collective nature of political activity, even for us individualists on the Opposition side of the House. Yet it is very important that a Parliament respects the individual freedom and conscience of an MP. The party-hopping legislation attacked that. It put this Parliament in the position whereby a member could represent one party in the House, and lead and represent another party outside the House. Does that not sound like 1885? The point is simply that the price of the freedoms we have is eternal vigilance. The executive will always succumb to temptation. The party-hopping bill will expire in 2005, and that is a very good thing.

The second such attack, I believe, was what became known as the “Duynhoven Bill”. For the first time in our parliamentary history, this Parliament elected someone to the Parliament by using the executive-driven majority of the Parliament. And there is no privilege of this Parliament that is more precious than the privilege of deciding who can sit in it—nothing is more precious than that. The executive absolutely should not decide who sits in this Parliament, but in the case of the “Duynhoven Bill” it did decide that. So in the light of those two recent events, we should not be complacent about the self-evident truths that have been spoken about today. The foundation of this Parliament as a representative of the people needs to be constantly reinforced and protected.

We have here an old institution in a young country, and because of that this Parliament has carried more of the burden of shaping our nation and our citizenship than other Parliaments have. The matters raised by my learned colleague Dr Cullen tell of the pressures that come with that burden. We have lacked the institutions that other older countries have had, to help us to deal with the difficult issues that a polity has to resolve. It is my contention that in the last 20 years, Parliament has not shouldered that burden well. We face a decade now where the definition of what it means to be a citizen of New Zealand will be the overriding preoccupation of this Parliament—much as the reshaping of our economy was its overriding preoccupation in the last 15 years. Like Dr Cullen, I see ahead some tension between Parliament and the judiciary. In particular, as one of the senior judges has pointed out, Parliament has invited the judiciary into the job of defining the role of the Treaty of Waitangi in New Zealand, and in relation to that I differ with my colleague. Parliament has created the opportunity for judicial activism by not taking the responsibility that only a sovereign Parliament should take, which is to define the meaning of citizenship and to define the role of the treaty. The courts have filled that gap.

When reflecting on the level of debate and consideration of our legislation in this House, I decided, by way of comparison, to look at Lord Cooke’s historic judgment setting out the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. I found that, compared with parliamentary debate, the reasoning was weak and the judgment was partial. It took some words in a narrow context and generalised them to the broadest possible context, in a way that this Parliament would certainly debate vigorously if an MP, a Minister, or a Prime Minister proceeded in the same way. On its own merits that judgment lacks merit, but as an exercise in making our constitution it has been a failure, and everything built on it has been a failure. The judiciary cannot be left to do a job that Parliament should do, if only because judges are much more inclined to see our constitution as a whirring machine of perfectly balanced parts. But New Zealand, if anything, has a constitution that defies theory. It is grafted on to our practical experience, our imperfect democracy, our tolerance, and our sense of fairness.

If this Parliament is to serve its history and the people who have served in it well, it should learn that because sovereignty lies here, so too does the responsibility for defining our citizenship lie here. When Parliament does not take that responsibility the country suffers. The fundamental flaw at the heart of the constitutional experiment of the last 20 years has been that that debate—particularly the debate around the treaty—has been carried out by an elite, without the participation, let alone the consent, of the people. I believe there is one explanation for that, although it is not an excuse. As my colleague Mr Prebble pointed out, we are virtually alone in the parliamentary world in having no deliberative body separate from this Chamber. This is a place of contest, where Governments are made and where Governments fail. Despite the change to MMP and all the nice ideas that went with it, this Parliament still remains a high-stakes institution. That reflects our traditional political culture, which in my view will not change. To fail in this Parliament is not to get the opportunity for delay or to rethink, but is simply to fail. Members do not have the benefit of a body external to this Chamber with the expertise, for instance, to challenge Parliament’s legislative drift on the treaty, which has characterised this Parliament for the last 20 years. In other countries, issues that are as important as that to members are considered in the activity of day-to-day politics, but they can also be considered away from the heat of partisan contest. Other countries, such as Canada, have successfully done that with much more complicated constitutional challenges than New Zealand faces.

We are not compelled to follow the way that those countries do it. An Upper House is clearly one alternative. I would suggest another odd, and maybe particularly New Zealand, way to do it. Despite the setting-up of the Supreme Court, the Government still has the power to appoint Privy Councillors: people who have, without exception, served for a long time in this institution and have left it. The Government also has the power to appoint other people as Privy Councillors. We do not need, and perhaps our egalitarian culture would not permit, the paraphernalia of a full second Chamber. But I would suggest that as we look out over the next 20 years at the challenges we face, a deliberative, advisory, non-political body would be of great assistance to this Parliament, because members are not able to stand here today, after 150 years of history, to say we have fulfilled all the promise of citizenship and sovereignty in New Zealand.

There are three reasons that I have risen to take part in this debate. The first is that it is a debate substantially about history—the first 150 years of our Parliament. I have rarely spoken about history, because my own thinking in my current portfolio work is focused so very clearly on the future, but if my understanding of New Zealand history is correct, the first European marriage in New Zealand was the marriage of my great-great-grandparents. That was well before 1854 and well north of here, at Waimate North. None of my family ever went to Parliament before me, but they played their part forming our history, for example, assuming, ownership of land that was not theirs at and around Kaitāia, helping to translate the Bible into Māori, and much besides. They were of the Anglican Church, and my great-great-grandfather would travel up and down the foreshore of Ninety Mile Beach to hold services amongst Te Aupōuri. In the 1830s, he reputedly travelled often by land yacht, which raises the issue of customary rights. Regrettably, my family will not be applying, as we are unable to establish continuous use. This is a shame. The idea of claiming right of way over the steady trickle of traffic up and down the beach was momentarily attractive.

The second reason that I have decided to speak is that I have the privilege of representing a Dunedin seat, and a lot of history in the second half of the 19th century centred on Dunedin. As my immediate predecessor, the Hon Stan Rodger, said in his maiden speech 25 years ago this month—and I acknowledge his presence in the Chamber—Dunedin was the first to do almost everything. It has the first secondary school for girls in the British Commonwealth and, I think, the sixth secondary school for girls in the world; the first university in the world to confer on women the right to a degree; and the first centre in the Southern Hemisphere to establish local branches of theYMCA, The Salvation Army, and the St John Ambulance brigade. The Plunket Society began in Dunedin, as did Karitane nursing, teacher education, tertiary education itself, and much besides. Dunedin’s one big mistake was its decision to build Auckland.

Many earlier politicians came from my part of the land, including Mr Vogel, who probably did not use the word “infrastructure” but who saw it built, none the less, and Mr McKenzie, who probably did not use the idea of family-based farming but who saw it instituted. The three folk worth particular mention are Nordmeyer the reverend, McMillan the doctor, and Davidson the schoolteacher. The first two entered Parliament, and “Nordy” is remembered for the “black” Budget of nearly 50 years ago. These three men conceived of a public health system, designed and tested it on locals when all three were living in the construction town that built the Waitaki Dam, and then introduced it in the late 1930s after they entered Parliament. It still stands, strengthened by this Government’s decision to create primary health organisations, through which my colleague Annette King has sought to address the gap those three men left when they placed emphasis on hospital care at the expense of affordable primary health-care.

Dunedin is the second reason that I decided to take a call, and the third reason is to reflect on what I think are the enduring features of this Parliament in 2004. MMP will, in my view, be enduring. Many colleagues will disagree, and I could be wrong. A cataclysm may change our system again, but I do not think so. The reason is the one given by Richard Prebble. We are now a lot more representative, by whatever measure. It is true that we also represent the bereft and the bewildered, just as we represent the brilliant and becoming. The peacefulness of our democracy has been lauded by earlier speakers so I shall not belabour that extraordinary characteristic of our history.

The next feature of our parliamentary system that I think is worthy of some mention is our select committee process, which is somewhat more open, engaged, and effective in our democracy than in most. The Prime Minister spoke of the Palmer reforms, but since MMP the role of a select committee has become more important still—either in its legislative or its inquiry function. In that respect, Richard Prebble, I believe, is wrong. Parliamentarians are in this regard more empowered; so is the public. In New Zealand a good argument from a member of the public can, and does, change law.

Next, and perhaps arguably, this Parliament has given voice decade after decade to the ethos of egalitarianism. This has been threaded through much of our history. The Prime Minister has already spoken of New Zealand being the first nation to give women the vote, and I have spoken of a public health system coming of age in the 1930s and, for that matter, what became known as the welfare State. But we ought to recall the liberalism of the 1890s—the beginnings of the care of the elderly is now over 100 years old—and the Woodhouse report, which gave us a no-blame, no-sue accident prevention and compensation system in the 1970s, and the fact that anyone in this country over 21 years of age can go to university. This egalitarianism has been attacked by ideology, by economics, by fiscal constraint, or by the interplay between. It faltered before and during the Depression, before and during the economic reforms that began 15 or 20 years ago, and it will falter again. But egalitarianism persists—never by that name, of course, but always as an underlying assumption in the way New Zealanders think.

I will take an earlier Dunedin predecessor, Richard Walls—who is in the House today, and I acknowledge his presence. He was in the House between 1975 and 1978, before returning to being a businessman and then Mayor of Dunedin. He is still a city councillor and a capable manager of Dunedin public sector business. In his maiden speech he spoke of Dunedin’s warm humanity, its community health and welfare services, and the need for more opportunity for women to enter the workforce—not bad for a Tory. Not bad for a New Zealand Tory, is the point I am making—a Dunedin New Zealand Tory. Egalitarianism has shifted across this Chamber and back, as the years have gone by. Richard Walls’ predecessor was the indomitable Ethel McMillan—wife of the aforementioned doctor. Not only did she devote much of her substantial maiden speech to egalitarianism—and how!—she devoted the rest of it to the other remarkable feature of this Parliament: that it is internationally aware, competent, and active. It is not the sort of awareness, competence, or activity that one might expect from a small antipodean colony.

Leaving aside the military history, which has been spoken of by earlier speakers—the fighting, peace making, and peacekeeping; the earlier history of our country—we have been internationally active in many other ways, especially since Peter Fraser contributed so much to the establishment of the UN. Ethel McMillan spoke at length about international peace. Her speech was pre-dated by nuclear weaponry, but not by many years, and international activity towards peace was a thread that went right through her maiden address. This quest for peace is a common thread in New Zealanders’ thinking, and it is a quest that, interestingly, is largely unconditional. For that reason—and for others—New Zealanders and New Zealand parliamentarians have played a disproportionate role in international action, ranging from Volunteer Service Abroad to the work of Don McKinnon or Mike Moore.

What will our Parliament look like in the future? I think, perhaps unimaginatively, that it will look quite similar to how it is now. It will be well representative, thanks to MMP or to a variant thereof; it will be peaceful in terms of our own election system—assiduously so; it will be relatively intimate because we are a small country and also because of systems such as our select committee system; it will be giving effect, no doubt with hiccups, to New Zealand’s ongoing attachment to egalitarianism; and it will be internationally competent and outward looking, ensuring that New Zealanders, including representatives of this House, will continue to be good international citizens.

New Zealand is a tremendous country; it is literally a jewel in the South Pacific. I learnt that when I first came here some 40 years ago as a young officer on a British merchant ship and I literally fell in love with the place and had to come back. It is a fantastic country. Physically, it has everything. It has beautiful beaches, magnificent lakes, splendid forests, and majestic mountains. On first sight, I thought it was paradise. By nature, New Zealanders are great people. They are friendly, hospitable, hard-working, and of flexible disposition. They are innovative, efficient, and they have a great sense of humour. In those years—some 40 years ago—I could not get back here fast enough.

Let me remind members of what New Zealand was like 40 years ago. In those days, New Zealanders had a reputation of being able to fix anything with a piece of number eight fencing wire. That is still true to some considerable degree, but nowadays, a New Zealander who specialises in “fixes” is usually involved in illicit drugs. In those days, a chair was only something we sat on. “Getting high” referred only to going on an aeroplane trip. There were not even any skyscrapers. A gay person was a person who was vibrantly happy. In those days, a street kid was a runaway young goat in a rural town. A “hoar” was a severe type of frost that only occurred south of Dunedin—certainly, nothing, or nobody, was both in those days.

In those days, crime was at a very low level, and the Minister knew every unemployed person by name. In those days, everybody knew what a family was, and everybody knew that it was the cornerstone institution of our society. How things have changed in 40 years! If today we are giving Parliament credit for, at one time at least, presiding over an egalitarian, fair-minded, Christian-based society, we must accept that Parliament has responsibility for change—in particular, adverse change.

Today we celebrate Parliament’s 150 years of existence, but before we stand on our pedestal, accept the accolades, and declare ourselves the champions of democracy, we should consider the concerns of some New Zealanders who really do need a champion. We in New Zealand First are the champions. We are the champions—not of the world, not of New Zealand, but of the vulnerable. We are on the side of older people on a fixed income who have little or no opportunity to change their circumstances. We are on the side of victims of crime, who so often do not know where to go or what to do.

We are on the side of health patients who are pressing for treatment but are compelled to wait—a wait filled very much with anxiety. We are on the side of struggling small businesses. We are on the side of decency and family values. We are on the side of young people who come into the world in a situation of hardship and who have no ability to change their circumstances and to advance themselves. I invite all members to be on their side.

I remind members of what a former President of America, John F Kennedy, once said: “All of us do not have equal talent, but all of us should have an equal opportunity to develop our talents.” I hope that that short sentence sits very comfortably with most MPs. Our task is to implement it.

There are people today who need assistance, who need help. I like to think that many of the parliamentarians are aware of their plight, and are prepared to champion their causes. As I have suggested, New Zealand First is certainly on their side. I say to members who believe that a return to free-market forces will solve our problems and be our salvation, that it will not be so. New Zealanders have learnt the lesson of the free market and they do not want to revert to that again, for the free market has no social conscience. I say to members who appear to be committed to undermining society’s values that that also will not work. Society has values—needs values—that need to be supported by legislation.

In conclusion, I quote another famous MP—not a New Zealander, but a British MP. Winston Churchill once said: “What is the use of living if it be not to strive for noble causes and to make this muddled world a better place for those who will live in it after we are gone.” New Zealand First subscribes to that. I hope most MPs subscribe to that. For the task to deliver on it is immense. We should enjoy today and get on with the task tomorrow, for there is much to be done.

It is an honour to speak in the House on this historic occasion, and I want to acknowledge all the men and women who have served in this Parliament. Whether they served with greater or lesser distinction, all came into this House keen to see progressed the things that they believed in. I want to pay particular tribute to one member, whose modest headstone stands less than 5 metres from that of my parents, my grandparents, and my great-grandparents in a beautiful cemetery in a little place called Matakohe. He was the first member for Kaipara, and our first New Zealand - born Prime Minister. Although I do not wish to compare the distinguished career of the Rt Hon Gordon Coates with my humble one, what is kind of remarkable is that between the two of us, we have represented our area for more than a third of this Parliament’s total history.

History tells us that 4 days from now 88 years ago, the young member of Parliament Gordon Coates entered the Army to serve in the First World War. On this very day 64 years ago, Coates met with Labour Prime Minister Peter Fraser to serve as an Opposition MP in the Labour war Cabinet of the Second World War. Coates was one of those special members who genuinely put his love of country ahead of petty politics.

In my 20 years in this place, I have heard many MPs leaving the House speak of the privilege of serving here—and it is a privilege. For me, there has been the honour of working for New Zealand in global trade negotiations, and speaking for New Zealand at Gallipoli on Anzac Day and at Messines in remembrance services there—where, incidentally, Gordon Coates, while a member of this Parliament, won his first Military Cross for gallantry in action.

But perhaps even more special is the opportunity to share the lives and aspirations of so many New Zealanders, whether as a local MP helping families to overcome intractable problems or, in my case as Minister of Education, visiting schools right around the country—rural and urban, wealthy and struggling communities, big and small. In agriculture and trade I have met with farmers and business people from all around in different sectors, succeeding and struggling, and I have seen great New Zealanders exporting and doing business right around the world.

I have to say that New Zealanders inspire me. The thing that I like about New Zealanders, compared with other countries to which my trade work has taken me, is the Kiwi spirit—the “can do” character that was so embodied in the Rt Hon Gordon Coates. New Zealanders are basically decent, good-natured people who love their country and respect one another. Left to their own devices, New Zealanders do pretty well. As the late Michael King put it in his seminal history of New Zealand: “Most New Zealanders, whatever their cultural backgrounds, are good-hearted, practical, commonsensical, and tolerant.”, and I share his optimism about the long-term future of our country.

As we look to the future, I worry that we are at risk of undermining that Kiwi spirit through excessive regulation. I believe we must trust sensible New Zealand people a lot more than we do. It troubles me that in my 20 years in this Parliament, we have passed 2,938 bills, and respective Governments have promulgated 7,636 new regulations. It begs the question of whether our country is now 10,000 new rules and laws better off. The answer, in short, is no. It is not just the red tape that makes business so difficult and almost every endeavour so much harder; it is the encroachment into almost every area of everyday life. We now think that we need to legislate how every organisation in New Zealand that has a legislative basis to its activity, such as local government, is to do everything, damn near down to the level of going to the toilet. We put into legislation how every little organisation must go about doing everything.

I concede that that is not a new concern. Coates spoke, back in 1938, of a similar concern in what is now my Rodney electorate, when he railed against “licensing regimes becoming established for transport, secondary industries, chemists’ shops,”—that one is still with us—“and the sale of petrol.” He said that Government appointees were beginning to make decisions that were better left to the private sector. It is not just in our democracy that those matters of liberty cause concern. A United States Supreme Court justice put it this way when he said: “Experience should teach us to be most on our guard to protect liberty when the Government’s purposes are beneficent. Men born to freedom are naturally alert to repel invasion of their liberty by evil-minded rulers. The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well meaning but without understanding.”

I believe that those words contain much that should warn us, because it is so easy to pass more and more legislation that encroaches progressively on the everyday lives of the men and women of New Zealand who make this country so great. We should remember that it is not we in this Parliament who make the country great, it is the men and women of our country.

I would argue that it is the freedom of our people to exercise choice and to be able to be responsible for their own and their families’ lives. It is that genuine liberty that is the measure of the quality of our democracy. It is the dream of that liberty that brought my great-grandparents and so many others like them halfway around the world to build a new place of freedom here in the South Pacific. Let us in our legislative enthusiasm, as we look to the future, not trample on that dream.

Koutou ngā kanohi Māori i roto i te Whare nei, e mihi kau ana ki a koutou katoa. I a rātou kāre kei te ora, i a rātou e haere ake anō, e mihi kau ana ki a rātou katoa.

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

[To those of you from Māoridom who are present in this House, a warm greeting to you all. To those who are not in good health, to former members, my sincere greetings to them all as well.]

It is a privilege to be a Māori MP. There is something special about the relationship between Māori members of Parliament—a basic courtesy. I do not want people to think for a moment that we have something non-Māori MPs do not. It is just that we have a great bond, because no matter how much we argue and divide ideologically over what our parties are doing, at the end of the day we are all tangata whenua and have a greater obligation to Māori collectivity than to ourselves individually. It is a privilege to be a Māori MP, a role we will never take for granted.

When I gave my maiden speech in this House on 15 February 2000, I was mindful of all the other Māori MPs who came through here before me, and I want to mihi to Koro Wētere and others who are here today. The 1999 general election delivered 16 Māori MPs to this House. In 2002 that number grew to 19. There are times when I think it is tough being a Māori MP—especially over the last couple of weeks—and it is at those times that I consider how much tougher it must have been when there were fewer of us. For the greatest part of the history of this House of Representatives, that was the case.

This anniversary has given me cause to reflect and do some research on all the other Māori MPs who came before us. I could not rely on my memory for that detail—not because I do not have a good memory, nor because I did not attend history lessons at school, but because, generally, the teaching of New Zealand history in relation to Māori in politics was not very good. Four Māori seats were established by the Maori Representation Act in 1867. In 1993, 126 years later, that number was increased to five by the Electoral Act. Nine years on, the number of Māori seats rose to seven, which is what we have today.

Māori were not allowed to stand for general seats until 1967. How many of us knew that? It is certainly a sobering fact. A special exception to that law was made for Sir James Carroll, on account of his Pākehā ancestry. Sir James first became a MP in 1887, when he won the Eastern Māori seat. He held his seat for 6 years until the 1893 election when he stood for, and won, the European electorate of Waiapu, later to become known as Gisborne. After the rules were revised, William Rex Austin and the late Manuera Ben Couch were the first Māori to win election in general electorates, albeit electorates with Māori names—Awarua and Wairarapa—in 1975.

Sobering too is the fact that in order for Māori to participate in the formal institutions of political power in New Zealand and vote between 1852 and the late-1860s, Māori had to be male, over 21, and landowners. Although those qualifications on voting rights applied to Māori and non-Māori males alike, in effect it meant that few Māori were able to vote, since most land held by Māori was communally held rather than individually owned, and held in customary title that was unregistered. Whilst unable to vote, Māori still contributed to taxation revenue. It is within that context, and conflict of land ownership, that Māori representation and the origins of the Māori seats began.

Since the 1868 general election that first brought Māori MPs into existence, there have been a total of 79 Māori members of Parliament. Many of that number served multiple terms. Thus far, a handful have served in excess of 25 years—namely, Tame Parata, 1885, 26 years; Apirana Tūrupa Ngata, 1905, 38 years; Eruera Tirikātene, Southern Maori, 1932, 35 years; Eruera’s daughter, Whetū Tirikātene-Sullivan, 29 years; and Koro Wētere, Western Maori, 27 years. The longest-serving Māori MP in this House—and I notice he is absent at the moment—is my elder, Winston Raymond Peters, who is in his 23rd year and still going strong.

Being a Māori MP was purely a male domain until 1949, when Iriaka Matiu Rātana was elected as the MP for Western Māori. She held that seat for 20 years. I can only imagine how tough it must have been for her during those two decades. With the first MMP election in 1996 came list seats that opened up new possibilities and delivered more Māori women to this House. If my calculations are right, there have been a total of 12 Māori women MPs to date. Over half that number are in the House today, and I acknowledge them—Georgina te Heuheu, Donna Awatere Huata, Georgina Beyer, Nanaia Mahuta, Moana Mackey, Jill Pettis, and Metiria Tūrei. Until recently, Tariana Turia was also a member of that grouping—a grouping she seems certain to rejoin in the not too distant future. I am aware that that group of my colleagues have all had tough and testing times since they were elected to Parliament. I often wonder whether it would have been quite so tough for them had they not been Māori.

I shall spend a little of my time talking about Sir Apirana Tūrupa Ngata, who was an outstanding politician. He was committed totally to uplifting Māori people from Pākehā domination, to cultural revival, and to strengthening. He was totally committed to developing a Māori economic base, based on farming and other activities. Apirana attended Te Aute College and then went on to Canterbury College, where in 1894 he completed his BA, becoming the first Māori to complete a degree at a New Zealand university. Two years later, he completed his LLB and became the first New Zealander, Māori or Pākehā, to complete the double degree.

Though he could have become a prosperous lawyer, Apirana did not practice. Instead, he threw himself into reforming the social and economic situation of his people. The incorporations were brought under the control of Māori councils. Apirana was determined to demonstrate that with skill, leadership, and management, Māori could be as successful as Pākehā. Around the same time as that was happening, he was making his way in national affairs, particularly through his friendship with James Carroll. He assisted Carroll in developing the Maori Lands Administration Act and the Maori Councils Act. Those two Acts gelled much of the work Apirana had been doing for many years.

Another legacy Sir Apirana left with us was the Māori Battalion, which is very relevant, given last week’s activities both here and abroad. He wrote a booklet, and I quote from it: “In this war Māori asked to take his full share in the front line, and in this he has been fully indulged. Has he proved a claim to be an asset to this country? If so he asked it to be dealt with as such—an asset discovered in the crucible of war should have a value in the coming peace.”

Members may well ask why I have dwelt on Apirana. I am more than certain that this Government, and in current and testing times with Māori leadership, has to ensure that courage prevails. Emotion, and all those things that mislead and misinform our people, are things we have to put asunder. If we want to recognise Parliament and the Crown as sovereign, it is important that we understand and remember that there is a Treaty of Waitangi in this country, and there is a tangata whenua—the Māori people. We have accelerated and changed when the need has come about, and we intend to keep doing that. Eighty-two percent of us were living in rural areas, but with urbanisation, we have transferred ourselves to the towns.

I want to leave us with the future: 55 percent of us are under the age of 18; 75 percent of us are under the age of 35, and only 4 percent of Māori are over the age of 60 years. Certainly, misinformation and miscalculation about the ability of Māori in this future need to be put asunder. As New Zealanders, it is certain that we all need to understand that our job as leaders and politicians for Māori at the moment —and I can say this on behalf of all the Māori members in this House—is to ensure that we set up a clear and positive platform for the other partner in this country, and that is Māori.

Kia ora koutou katoa. Today I would have liked to see the elective representatives who are mana whenua, women, gay, lesbian, transgender, or of ethnic minorities, and the younger members of the House, leave this House for this 150th birthday and go to talk with our communities—whose views are frequently unrecognised and often disrespected by this institution—about their concerns for the future governance of this country. This would then leave the House with quite a large grouping of white, middle-aged men—thanks, Mr Prebble!

Perhaps we might all like to reflect on the history of this institution, which, despite the struggles of a few individuals, continues to favour the wealthy, the powerful, and the patriarchy. For many people in this House, today is an auspicious occasion and a celebration of tradition. I do not want to rain on their parade, but we must be honest: it is not an entirely proud tradition. The Maori Prisoners Act of 1880 postponed and eventually dispensed with trials for accused Māori. The Chinese Immigrants Act of 1881 imposed a poll tax of £10 per person, and restricted the number of Chinese immigrants to 1 person per 10 tons of ship cargo. Under the New Zealand Settlement Act of 1863, over 3 million acres of land were confiscated to pay for the war against the mana whenua. The Native Health Act of 1909 meant that Māori women could no longer breast feed, nor use whāngai systems to adopt children. The Public Safety Conservation Act of 1932, used 20 years later in 1951, made it unlawful to give food to the families of locked out waterfront workers. The Citizenship (Western Samoa) Act of 1982 stripped New Zealand citizenship from Samoans in this country. That is the history of where we come from. It is not fun. Let us make sure that we never return to it again.

I am very proud that the Green Party comes to Parliament with a commitment to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Te tiriti must form the basis of any future governance in this country. Constitutional change is an absolute necessity. This Parliament is a monocultural institution in a tiriti-based founded society and a multi-ethnic society. This Parliament reflects the values of its Westminster antecedents and not those of the mana whenua. As such, its continuation relies heavily on the generosity and goodwill of the mana whenua, and its reciprocal obligations are heavy and remain unmet. We must embrace, and not deny, the political implications embodied in te tiriti, and find the way to give effect to the relationship respectfully and equitably in partnership with the tangata whenua. Until that happens this Parliament will remain irrelevant to tikanga Māori, uninformed, and unjust.

So what might happen in the future for this Parliament? I wish that I knew. But it is undeniable that there are lots and lots of ideas in this country about how to bring about constitutional change to meet our aspirations for our people, and to meet our te tiriti obligations. This afternoon, while some will be celebrating the 150th birthday, the Greens will be celebrating the democratic principle of freedom of speech by holding a public meeting in the Portrait Gallery in Bowen House to hear the different perspectives on the question: “Democracy: Is this as good as it gets?”. We are privileged to hear Moana Jackson give us a te tiriti analysis that challenges the Western paradigm that underlines this institution. We are privileged to hear other voices, too: from the republican movement, a feminist analysis, an anarchist perspective on what participatory democracy may look like, and, of course, a youth critique—all voices too often disaffected and marginalised but none the less intelligent and courageous in their resilience.

The relevance of the future of this Parliament lies in our honest appraisal of our history, and our courage as decision makers to embrace new, sometimes frightening, but exciting opportunities for constitutional change. May we be so courageous.

This is a special sitting of the House of Representatives to celebrate our Parliament’s proud history. I would like to acknowledge former colleagues who are here, and recognise former Speakers who were here earlier in the debate: Kerry Burke, Robin Gray, and Doug Kidd. I have been reprimanded by all three of them. I would also like to acknowledge Charles Littlejohn, who was here earlier. He was a long-serving Clerk of the Parliament prior to Dave McGee.

It is a time for reflection and a time to cherish parliamentary representative democracy. We know that that is a very tenuous state. We know that it is precious, scarce, and very vulnerable. New Zealand is one of very, very few nation States that managed to retain parliamentary democracy throughout the 20th century. If we look at the States of Europe, Latin America, and most of Asia and, more recently, if we look at states like Fiji, we can see that parliamentary democracy cannot be taken for granted; it must be worked at and renewed.

We have had 150 years of our Parliament. That is not a great length of time in the greater scheme of things. It is perhaps the time of merely six or seven generations. The Rt Hon Jonathan Hunt, our Speaker, has been here for 38 years—that is, for 25 percent of the entire duration of the New Zealand Parliament.

My good friend and colleague Richard Prebble has 26 years of distinguished parliamentary service. He is still going strong and still making a tremendous contribution, and, as we heard today, he has the greatest number of references in the Hansard of this Parliament of any member ever. That is a tremendous contribution. [Interruption] The printers certainly thought so, he interjects.

Bill English advises that very few of his class of 1990 remain in Parliament. I first came here in the class of 1984, as a reasonably eager young chap. When I look around I see there are not many left of the class of ’84. We do suffer attrition here. We do not have a retention problem; it is more one of attrition.

People have been reflecting, and appropriately so, but I would like to look ahead. I think we have learnt from our history, but I ask where we will be when we next celebrate a memorial time. I figure it will be our 200th celebration, on 24 May 2054, and that is actually not far away when we think about it.

We have to ask ourselves some fundamental questions. Will New Zealand still be an independent sovereign State—State nationhood is quite a recent concept in the scheme of things—or will our representatives be going off to the capital of the “Federated States of Austra-nesia”? Who knows? I am not advocating that, but who knows what we will have in 50 years’ time.

Those early members of Parliament came to Auckland by coastal steamer. It took over 3 months to go around the country, collect them all up, and bring them to Auckland. Bob Tizard, who is sitting up the front there, first came to Parliament in 1957. He sat down with me and told me how he used to catch the overnight train to Parliament; MPs of his day did not fly up.

Bob Tizard did not have a cellphone in 1957, that is for sure. I actually got my first cellphone after 6 years in Parliament, and it was a brick—a huge thing. It was very heavy, it half filled my briefcase, and I can assure members it did not have many functions. Some would say I have not developed much past my brick, but our modern cellphones have certainly transformed the lives of members of Parliament.

Assuming we do retain our separate sovereignty, I question whether the capital will still be in Wellington. We cannot assume that. Mayor Banks, in his fifteenth term of office as Mayor of Auckland, might capture the capital back after a devastating earthquake flattens Wellington in 2020. That is conceivable. We do not wish that, but it is possible. It would certainly change things dramatically.

Will MMP remain? I certainly hope so. I think our Parliament is more representative—and that is what we are. This is a House of Representatives. It is not a board of directors, it is not a panel of experts; it is a House of Representatives.

Mr Speaker, may I begin by saying what a genuine privilege it is to be a member of Parliament, to be a Minister in the Cabinet of this Government, and to speak in this debate commemorating 150 years of our Parliament. We have heard during the course of this debate some unusual cross-party agreement, reflecting our pride in the leadership that New Zealand has shown in many aspects of our democracy, from the quite unusual step then of establishing our country as being the first in the world where women won the right to vote for Parliament, and to ensuring indigenous representation. I am particularly interested in the history and, actually, the future of women’s representation here. New Zealand women won the right to vote in 1893, but it was a further 26 years until 1919 before we could stand for Parliament. It took 14 attempts by women in as many years before Elizabeth McCombs took her seat in 1933. Elizabeth won her seat in a by-election following her husband’s death, and became the member of Parliament for Lyttelton. Lyttelton is, of course, the seat to which I was elected 60 years later. Lyttelton is also the electorate that has twice had a Minister of Women’s Affairs as its MP, and we have elected more women MPs than any other electorate in the country. That is just one of the many reasons that I consider it is the best electorate.

Both Elizabeth McCombs and Mary Grigg, the first National Party woman to be elected—that was in 1941—were chosen to stand in place of their husbands, as was Iriaka Rātana in 1949. Mabel Howard, Whetū Tirikātene-Sullivan, and Judith Tizard all followed their fathers into Parliament, but, of course, each of those women earned selection and election in their own right. Until 1960 all women except Catherine Stewart had won their seats in by-elections, and nearly all our early women MPs came from a background of local body politics, trade unions, and extensive community work. Many more recent women members of Parliament have also had extensive experience in local body politics, and almost all have had a close involvement in community activities. But, of course, we are entering Parliament at a much younger age, rather than waiting until our families have grown up. The first two women Cabinet Ministers, Mabel Howard and Hilda Ross, were given portfolios particularly related to women’s and children’s issues, although Mabel’s later responsibilities became health and social welfare. But when Whetū Tirikātene-Sullivan was appointed a Cabinet Minister, she was deliberately given an economic, rather than a social, portfolio, and, of course, since 1984 women have held a variety of portfolio responsibilities.

Women in Parliament have worked hard at what could be considered to be a tension between raising issues of particular concern to women—which men did not consider as priorities—while ensuring that all issues are recognised as women’s issues. I think we have that balance about right now. We do have women in portfolios, both in the Opposition and in Government, that were previously not considered to be the domain of women, and, of course, we have women chairing select committees similarly. But we also have women united on some policy issues that are of particular concern to women, and that fact will continue to be a great strength within our parliamentary system.

It is also a particular strength that despite our small numbers as a percentage of the whole Parliament, women MPs have been able to achieve internationally regarded, ground-breaking measures for women. Elizabeth McCombs’ work led the Government to prepare legislation concerning women’s nationality upon marriage. Mary Dreaver obtained the right for women to serve on juries and to be appointed to the Legislative Council. Mabel Howard did much to make women’s concerns as consumers publicly acknowledged—work that was carried on and greatly extended by Margaret Shields during her time in this House. Iriaka Rātana’s work to improve Māori living conditions, land use, and education was extended by Whetū Tirikātene-Sullivan into areas such as electoral law and the recognition of rights under the Treaty of Waitangi. Ethel McMillan, Dorothy Jelicich, and Mary Batchelor were vigorous supporters of equal pay, and Mary Batchelor fought for protection against domestic violence for many years until legislation was passed. Fran Wilde successfully promoted law reform concerning adoption and rape. Anne Collins helped to bring about the abolition of corporal punishment, while Judy Keall, Jennifer Kirk, and Helen Clark worked tirelessly to allow midwives to be in sole attendance at normal births. Marilyn Waring and Helen Clark were largely responsible for the peace issues, and particularly for our nuclear-free status, becoming part of Government policy. Ann Hercus, Marilyn Waring, and Colleen Dewe broke new ground in their membership of the Public Expenditure Committee, and of course Ruth Richardson’s becoming Minister of Finance in 1990 was unparalleled in Western countries. World leading, too, was the appointment of Jenny Shipley as Prime Minister, and then the election of Helen Clark as Prime Minister.

But we still do not have true representation of women in Parliament, and so while celebrating the many, many successes of women in our parliamentary history we need to look at that lack of representation. Parliament, as an institution, has become more accommodating of those with the primary responsibility for caregiving for children, by reorganising our sitting sessions. As the first woman whip, Fran Wilde was able to influence those changes, though it took the determination of Elizabeth Tennet before a creche was finally provided for all workers in the complex. But many women still criticise the time wasted on empty point-scoring debate, preferring the generally cooperative spirit that prevails in the work of the select committees, although those are not the parts of the parliamentary process that are generally seen by the public, either directly or via the media. I would like to see more public awareness of the workings of our select committees, while understanding that often the media interest turns an otherwise intelligent debate into a theatre performance. There are still some parties in Parliament that do not have a fair number of women in their caucus, and I urge the leaders of those parties to consider what a disservice they do to the country as a whole by not having such representation, and to address that if they intend their parties to continue to be represented in our House. We need to ensure that we do have an increasing number of women at all decision-making levels of our society so that our laws, our policies, and our other decisions are truly representative of our whole nation.

To all our women members of Parliament, both past and present, I pay tribute to their contribution to this House and to our country. We are privileged to represent our electorates and our parties in this position, and we do have an additional responsibility as women, and often still as the primary caregiver for our families. I want to pay a tribute to our families, as well—not just to the families of the women members of Parliament, but to the families of all members of Parliament. Being a member of Parliament is a hugely challenging, stimulating, and satisfying job. But it does have a cost for us all, in terms of the time we spend away from our families and the additional burden that public life places on our families. So I thank all our families for sharing a family member with this House, and for the often unrecognised contribution that they have made to our democracy and our society. We are so lucky to be New Zealanders, and to have this democracy, this land to live in, and our quality of life. We, in this Parliament, have the responsibility to ensure that our democracy is enhanced, our land is protected, and our quality of life is improved. We have a responsibility to ensure that our time here is put to its best use, for the benefit of others. Mr Speaker, I want to congratulate you on your many years of valuable contribution to our House. I congratulate you, Dave McGee, and the staff on organising this special sitting as such a fitting tribute to our 150 years of Parliament.

It is an honour and a privilege for me to take part in this debate to mark 150 years after the formation of the New Zealand Parliament. I am proud to be part of a tradition that granted women the vote in 1893, and it is my only regret that more women have not taken their place in this Chamber. I take this opportunity to challenge the women in this country to look afresh at the world around them, to carve a path to Parliament, and to participate in decision making in the interests of all our communities. I firmly believe that the quality of life of the people of this country would be greatly enhanced by having more women make this place their workplace. I get angry when I hear women proudly proclaim that they do not bother to vote. How can women, or anyone for that matter, justify such a negative stance when there are people around the world who have had to die for their right to vote—a right that women have enjoyed here for over a century, and that some do not even bother to exercise. We have a place here—an important role to play—and our people and our society are poorer for our absence.

Women each bring a unique perspective to any problem: the ability to see past the peripherals and get to the heart of the matter. Women are able to work cooperatively to achieve common goals. While often mistaken for the fairer sex, women are prepared to wage war, but only when it matters, and particularly when their children or grandchildren are involved. I believe right now is the time for women in general, and for this Parliament in particular, to wage war on child abuse, poverty, poor education, poor health, drug use in our communities, poor housing, the loss of whole generations to welfare dependence, and a loss of dreams of the future.

It is interesting to note that the first woman Prime Minister in the world was Mrs Bandaranaike of Ceylon, in 1960. It took over 60 years after women first got the vote before a woman managed to get to that point. Since then, 32 other women have been appointed as head of State in countries around the world, from Peru to Lithuania, from the Philippines to Canada, and to Jenny Shipley and Helen Clark here in New Zealand. No mention of women heads of State would be complete without mention of Margaret Thatcher, whose prime ministership of Great Britain changed the political landscape of a generation, of Golda Meir, an American-born grandmother who became head of the State of Israel, a country that has been at war since its fiery birth in 1948, or of Indira Gandhi, who led the largest democracy in the world, India. She followed in her father’s footsteps, and in turn was followed by her son and, most recently, by her daughter-in-law, Sonia Gandhi.

I wish to pay tribute to some of the women who have graced the benches of this Parliament under the National Party banner since Mary Grigg first came here as a National member in 1942. Hilda Ross, a National MP, served from 1945 to 1959—a record of parliamentary service matched by Katherine O’Regan, who was here from 1984 to 1989, by Jenny Shipley from 1987 to 2002, and by Ruth Richardson from 1981 to 1994. I note that Joy Quigley is present today in the House, and I pay tribute to her contribution as another National woman member of Parliament.

Today I pay tribute, Mr Speaker, to your contribution in making Parliament a more woman and family-friendly environment. While you have made major changes here in the House, it is some of the little things, like sending my son Jonathan a birthday card every year, that I think are symbolic of your approach and interest in the pastoral care of the MPs in this House. I find it interesting to reflect on the fact that while you sought to assist me as I took care of my babies here in Parliament, Ruth Richardson’s experience 20 years earlier was very different. At that time some women concurred when their whips withdrew the granting of a pair in the House, which denied Ruth the ability to withdraw and breastfeed her baby without penalty to her party in any votes taken during that period. Only at lunchtime today Philippa Falloon mentioned to me that there was a time when family members were not allowed to bring their children to the gallery—changed days, indeed.

I pay tribute to Marilyn Waring, who served between 1975 and 1984, and who survived what we are led to believe was a tough environment under the leadership of Sir Rob Muldoon. Marilyn was a stoic and determined woman, with a clear vision. She achieved much for women, in spite of the environment in which she served. Katherine O’Regan, who had been her electorate agent, stood when Marilyn left, and won the Waipa seat as Marilyn’s successor. My current National Party colleagues the Hon Georgina te Heuheu, Pansy Wong, Judith Collins, Sandra Goudie, and Dr Lynda Scott bring a diversity and an experience that reflect New Zealand society, and I pay tribute to them for the contribution that they make.

Of course, behind every great MP here in Parliament there is usually another great woman, and some of our long-serving parliamentary staff like Margaret Hunter, Pat Humphries, Bridie Wilkinson, Beryl Bright, Faith Sarten, Margaret Manning, Alwyn Black, and Margaret Traill deserve special recognition today.

I am a sixth generation New Zealander of Scottish descent, and my clan is Munro. I am the third member of my family to be a member of Parliament, although I am the first one to be a member for National. When I came into Parliament I referred to Michael King’s book Being Pakeha Now, and admitted his writing mirrored my own thinking when he said that New Zealanders who are committed to this land and its people, as my family have been, are no less indigenous than Māori. A suitable commentary on this time in New Zealand political life is that that statement could currently be considered to be inflammatory. In fact, it is meant to be inclusive of all who came to this country to make a life for themselves and succeeding generations. As Simon Upton once said: “We are all immigrants to this country, after all.” I am proud to be a New Zealander. I feel no cultural cringe, and no need to apologise for New Zealand books, sculpture, painting, dance, theatre, or fashion, most of which I enjoy and all of which clearly proclaim our unique identity as a people.

We have come a long way in 150 years. This Parliament has witnessed some splendid speeches and some dramatic announcements. It has recorded the announcements to send New Zealanders to join others in two world wars. It has heard speeches of great sadness in announcing the loss of New Zealanders in war and in peace. It has recorded the joyful announcement of the end of major conflicts. It has witnessed the grandeur of State openings of Parliament. But the greatest attribute of this Parliament is, I believe, its accessibility to the people of New Zealand. Every day people come to this building and see their place. Te Papa may be our place, but it is a museum—a record of the past. Parliament is the living heart of New Zealand. It ruled the past, but it will also rule the future. New Zealanders and others come to sit in the gallery and listen to the proceedings each day. The accessibility of Parliament is a treasure—a taonga that we should guard jealously and maintain. My vision for this Parliament, which I suspect I share on behalf of all my colleagues, is that it survives as a democracy, that it exercises equity and fairness in its judgments, that it serves the people of New Zealand with truth and integrity, and that it never forgets the fundamental basis of democracy and representation. Most of all, I hope that this Parliament ups the participation of all women. It remains the challenge of each and every member to ensure that this remains a true House of Representatives.

I would like to pay tribute to all women who have stood in this House, past and present. I would like to pay tribute to some of the other women members in this House today who have made a huge contribution, like Georgina Beyer, Sue Bradford, Deborah Coddington, and Muriel Newman. I will even pay tribute to the Government member on the opposite side of the Chamber Ruth Dyson, who I am sure really meant to call me an irresponsible tartan in reference to my Scottish heritage, as I am proudly from Dunedin. We have some challenges that face us in the future, but I often think that when we come to Parliament we must maintain the mutual respect that we have for one another. We may have different views, and we may come here with different philosophies, but we should never doubt one another’s integrity and one another’s desire to do the best for those whom we represent.

It is an honour to speak in this debate, and, indeed, to be a member of this Parliament. I would like to thank the people of Te Atatu who voted for me, and in so doing provided me with the opportunity to be a member of Parliament. I am their voice in this place and hope to continue to be so for some time to come. I would also like to thank the Labour Party for selecting me as a candidate, and thus giving me the chance to help carry out the party’s programme as part of the Government in this Parliament.

It is a particular privilege today to see that so many people who were formerly members of this House have come along to celebrate this special 150th anniversary.

As has been said by quite a number of speakers today, our Parliament is one of the oldest true democracies. We were the first country in the world to give women the vote and to give indigenous people the vote, and we have an unbroken record of democracy for the last 150 years. These are facts to be proud of, and as a nation we are proud of them, but democracy does not end with suffrage—it begins with it. It is the extent of representation in Parliament that truly fulfils the promise of any democracy. As I look around the Chamber today it is quite evident to me that over the last 150 years our democracy has matured into one that can—and, perhaps for the first time, be honestly said to—represent all New Zealand. Gone are the days when democracy was a window dressing for an oligarchy. My ancestors left Ireland, and Lancashire in the north of England, 150 years ago; they came to New Zealand in 1848 and 1849. They left the British Isles, a place that had a Parliament that was ruled by the squirearchy—people who had enough money to ensure they had the time and ability to be in Parliament. It was not a Parliament that was truly representative of all the peoples of the British Isles.

That was that time and that place. We are now in this time and this place, where we can honestly say that this Parliament of ours is indeed a Parliament of the people. It is a House no longer just the domain of the intelligentsia, the landed aristocracy, or the wealthy. I see the many faces of modern New Zealand represented in this Parliament today: Pākehā, Māori, Pacific Island, Muslim, Asian, Rastafarian; young, old; male, female; straight, gay, and transgender—and I acknowledge my very good friend and colleague Georgina Beyer, who is sitting with me. Although it took over a hundred years after women first got the vote, we have had two women Prime Ministers in succession in this Parliament. We have had a Māori Speaker, we have a woman Deputy Speaker and have had women Assistant Speakers, and one day I am sure we will have a woman Speaker, as well. The Koran has been used as an object of oath for the first time in this Chamber. A former beneficiary has sat on these seats as an MP, alongside a multimillionaire. And I have had the privilege of becoming the first openly gay member of this Parliament, and, indeed, the first openly gay Cabinet Minister. It is a reflection of the health and maturity of our democracy that, as our society’s attitudes have evolved, those attitudes have gradually been represented in Parliament. It has often taken a ridiculously long time, but at least we have got there. Not all countries can be so lucky.

I suppose credit for the flourishing of diversity in our Parliament can be laid partly at the feet of MMP. Like a majority of members of this Parliament in 1993, I was not supportive of MMP when it was introduced, but I take this opportunity to congratulate the architects of its introduction. Although a degree of this Parliament’s diversity has been delivered through electoral seats, there is no doubt that MMP has added an entirely new dimension to the breadth of representation here. Whether this has resulted in better governance can, I think, be judged only many decades in the future—if ever. I suspect it will become, like so many issues, a question of politics.

When I first entered Parliament in 1993 it was a formal institution, and still focused on the executive despite the best efforts of Sir Geoffrey Palmer. It was still dominated by a two-party structure. I lost my seat in 1996 and returned 3 years later, in 1999, to find a totally different environment. The political landscape had splintered, but, more than that, the institution of Parliament itself had changed. To me, Parliament today is less formal than it was, and in many respects is a more collegial place. MMP and minority Government have required that a whole new set of relationships and a whole new level of dialogue between parties take place; a level of engagement across party lines occurs that simply did not exist before. As a whip in the previous Parliament I very much participated in that process. Where once members were lucky to sit on one select committee, now they can sit on two and, in some cases, even three. The time that MPs spend on these committees is now properly recognised as important in Parliament’s Standing Orders. As a result, the power of these committees has grown. As political microcosms of Parliament, they are playing an increasingly important role in scrutinising the executive, legislation, and Government departments. Quite appropriately, Government control of these committees has loosened.

Ironically, as Parliament has progressively become more representative, accountable, and transparent in the last 150 years, it has also apparently become more unpopular. Somewhere along the line this institution, which should be a source of national pride, has become sullied. Commentators point to the unpopularity of economic reforms through the 1980s and 1990s, the litany of broken promises by politicians, the scandalmongering by some MPs, and the reputed extravagance of Parliament. My guess is that all these issues have contributed. My guess is that the loss of status that politicians and Parliament have endured is to some extent an inevitable consequence of greater transparency. If that is the case, so be it. But I cannot help but think the crisis of respect that currently hangs over Parliament exists because politicians do not spend enough time celebrating Parliament’s successes, as well as talking about its failures.

A great deal of hand-wringing is occurring at present because this institution has presided over an apparent decline in New Zealand’s wealth, relative to other countries, over the past few generations. I am privileged to hold, among a number of responsibilities, the position of Minister of Conservation. It is with enormous pride that I look at what Parliament has achieved for New Zealand in the past 40 years in conservation. Parties on both sides of the political spectrum have consistently conserved our nation’s natural heritage, to the extent that today one-third of our country, some 33 percent of our land, is protected—that is, some 8 million hectares. This includes 14 national parks with a total area of 3 million hectares. There are also 18 no-take marine reserves with a total area of 760,000 hectares, and two marine mammal sanctuaries covering 2.3 million hectares. Parliament’s record of conservation is one of the longest and oldest in the world. Tongariro National Park, gifted to the nation by the iwi of Tūwharetoa in the 1890s, is the world’s third-oldest national park. Critical and, for its time, visionary legislation has been enacted by this Parliament to conserve our natural heritage, including the National Parks Act, the Reserves Act, the Wildlife Act, and the Conservation Act. We were one of the first countries to move towards marine protection, with the Marine Reserves Act and the Marine Mammals Protection Act.

I offer my congratulations to all MPs who supported that legislation over the last 40 years. Hansard records many debates—often very vigorous debates—on conservation issues. But it also records that, across the political spectrum, enthusiasm for conservation has grown as we have come to terms with the fragility of our distinct natural ecosystems. If one asks any New Zealander what he or she loves about our country and what is special about it, that person almost inevitably talks about our landscapes and unique biodiversity. Our love for the kiwi, the kōkako, and the sperm whale unites us all—as does our commitment to their future well-being. The native plants, animals, and natural landscapes of New Zealand, and the influence they have on shaping our culture, in large measure define us as a nation. Parliament has recognised that, captured it, and protected it. That is just a small part of this institution’s many successes.

Mr Speaker, finally, I would like to finish my contribution to this debate by acknowledging you. You and I have been close personal friends for many years. We share an electorate office today. Dr Cullen mentioned in his contribution to this debate that you have been here for one-quarter of this Parliament’s history. That is an enormous contribution to this Parliament, and I would like to be recorded as personally, and on behalf of the Government, saying that we acknowledge the enormous contribution you have made to this Parliament, and congratulate you on it.

I often think that politics is rather like driving, in that it is advisable while focusing on the road ahead to regularly glance in the rear-view mirror to keep track of where we have come from. Tangata whenua offer the idea that we should back into the future, always mindful of our heritage and the price paid for the freedoms members exercise in this place on behalf of all New Zealanders. With the few minutes I have to contribute to this occasion, I would like to focus on one of the constants that have motivated Governments and politicians for most of the 150 years New Zealand has enjoyed democratic government. It is this thought: that New Zealand can and should be the best place in the world to raise a family.

In the first 100 years of government, “family” was easily defined and clearly prescribed as mum and dad and children of tribal proportions, with the extended family living close by. Living outside those perimeters was considered scandalous. History records the many changes that ushered in the family diversity we experience today. Changes in technology, changes in family law, the impact of developing media, the provision of welfare, and the changing and progressing role of women and the consequential changes for men all contributed to the normalising of new approaches to the family.

Somewhere in the middle of all that change, we went into a fog or haze, and families seemed to disappear off the conversational radar for some years. Whether we were swamped into a deluge of political correctness that made such conversations unfashionable, or whether it was just that we subscribed to the good old Kiwi mind-your-own-business approach to life, is unclear. However, the good news is that the family is back on the radar screen, and in a matter of weeks we will see the opening of the Families Commission. This is a Crown agency charged with the responsibility of making sure that family considerations never slip off the agenda, and it will make sure that families are never overlooked or neglected by future Governments.

This new commission, along with many other commissions established by successive Governments, has been an interesting development in the way we govern ourselves in New Zealand. Such commissions provide us with the opportunity to identify key aspects of our lives here in Aotearoa New Zealand that we do not ever want to see neglected or allowed to fall into disrepair. These bodies have been set up to advocate to both the Government and the wider community for those key causes.

The renowned philosopher Jonathan Sachs wrote: “If we have any moral responsibilities at all, then we have moral responsibilities to those we have brought into being. Our duty to children is constitutive and inalienable.” So my hope for the next 150 years is that we will be even more diligent regarding the right of every child to an unambiguous identity, a definite sense of purpose, and a stable family context to which that child belongs. We must add to what we already know about the risk factors that undermine family life a clear understanding of the strengths that produce confident parenting and resilient homes, so that we take our responsibility as the House of Representatives seriously in order to deliver an environment in which families thrive.

I hope we continue to value the institutions of civil society that contribute to cohesive communities, while never presuming to take on their role, nor expecting them to deliver what is clearly our mandate, and I hope we may have the wisdom to know the difference.

In conclusion, I believe we need to have the courage to constantly ask ourselves the tough questions about outcomes as they relate to children; but most important, we need to make sure that every child raised in this country has equal access to a future characterised by hope.

Kia ora tātou. Warm Pacific greetings, Mr Speaker. Firstly, I congratulate you on the part that you have played in this commemoration service and on your longevity as Speaker of this House. This commemoration of 150 years since the establishment of a Westminster-style Parliament should provide an opportunity for reflection. This commemoration should humble us. After all, 150 years is not a long time in human history. Much and many have gone before us, and much and many are still to come. The distinguished seats in this House are never left cold. But while we are occupying these seats, what will be our contribution to this lineage, to this national project? Our greatest contribution is unlikely to be most of the issues of the moment. Many laws of this generation will be forgotten or changed in the next 150 years. Yet 150 years is also long enough to show that some of the major political battles of principle are never-ending. These tussles are about fundamental views of life, personal and national purpose, and common values.

Thus, the history of our Parliament reflects the history of this community. We are not the apex of the community; we are its servants and representatives. The people come first. To me as an Assistant Speaker, this perspective and this commemoration today is instructive as it illustrates that Parliament has an overarching purpose and responsibility. We have a debt to the past and we have a debt to the future. That is why the way we conduct ourselves while in the House is paramount. Our conduct must recognise that the passions of the moment must not obstruct our duty to the community and posterity. That is why I have vigorously promoted a code of conduct for Parliament. Even Westminster itself now has a code of conduct.

The public’s demand for good governance, transparency, and accountability is even more evident now than it has been in the past. Distrust of, and despair in, democracy is widespread and addictive and leads to vicious cycles of cynicism that are experienced as low voter turnout, low participation in political processes, and low approval ratings for politicians. Research has pointed to a chronic decline of confidence in politicians, with studies showing that confidence was 33 percent in 1975 and only 4 percent in 1992. A 2001 survey confirmed the trend with over a third of respondents saying they did not trust politicians at all, and 93 percent giving politicians a very low score.

Likewise, voter turnout has dwindled from 86 percent in 1984 to 76 percent in 1990. At the 2002 general election, if non-registered voters are included, only 73 percent of the population of voting age took part. We must overcome this democratic deficit for we face the prospect that democracy will fall apart because we do not sustain a truthful relationship with our electors.

Bismarck likened laws to sausages—it is better not to see them being made. He contended that laws are forged of compromise, bribery, and arm-twisting, but he was wrong. In a democracy it is vital that the community sees laws being made. It must be involved in the discussion and delivery of the values that add value. Parliament is the window on to the political process and we must collectively strive to improve popular perception of its relevance. It is time for Parliament to take steps to improve the situation and reverse the loss of confidence and trust. Introduction of standards and values that Parliament applies to itself and expects its members to uphold is a necessary first step.

In 2001 I proposed a code of conduct for New Zealand parliamentarians. The code was aspirational and supportive of members of Parliament—the vast majority of whom are sincere and hard-working. It begins with a brief set of general and public duties incumbent on members, outlines a set of general principles for members to observe in their conduct, and ends with a section emphasising conduct in the House, particularly regarding behaviour and appearances. The principles proclaimed by the code are simple, but they are the basis of the true character that we seek in our politicians—selflessness, integrity, objectivity, accountability, openness, honesty, and leadership. New Zealand has pioneered many reforms that have received global acclaim, and we can achieve the same with a code that advances the standing of politics as a worthy profession. The Standing Orders Committee has considered the proposal, and late last year I welcomed its report, which basically endorsed the principles of the proposal to establish a code of conduct.

The committee has suggested that these principles could be considered during the examination of the Members of Parliament (Pecuniary Interests) Bill when it is brought before the House. I hope that at that stage, the code may become a reality for the New Zealand Parliament. Values and ethics are the most fundamental things facing the survival of democracy in this century. Can we restore the relationship between MPs and their communities? I am realistic. I expect a miracle. Kia ora tātou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. Tihei mauri ora!

Motion agreed to.